Written for #JustWriteBits August 2019

They said that her khagan used to love. Sometimes, Shiiva almost believed it. There were moments of softness when his hardened gold eyes would turn to drops of water reflected by the sun, rather than molten beams of yellow fire against his red-brown features. His face would soften from hard determination to cool exhaustion, and he would stare almost intently into the flames, as if looking for someone he'd lost.

But Shiiva doubted her general felt anything but anger, a warm hearth that threatened to blaze over and consume anything around him. He stuck to the shadows, his glowing eyes always surveying his soldiers for their failures and successes. Khagan Sheelal was one person no one would dare razz or pick a fight with.

(Yet they said the general used to love.)

Shiiva sat by the fire with the boys. They were all around fifteen, and her chin was sore from the growth of small horns. Her friends were busy talking about random things—cute girls, which weapons left the most blood, which battles had been the most fun to take part in.

She stood and spoke to her friends. "I, uh....I'm going to go to the refresher." Her Grendajese accent set her apart from her peers, who all spoke with heavy Kunbali dialects.

A week ago, Khagan Sheelal had come to her town on Dyelita, a little island next to the ex-Yam'rii isle of Grendaju, and told her parents that Shiiva was coming with him. And just like that, Shiiva was gone, taken by the khagan oto a tiny island called Abesmi, and ordered to stay on the ship.

Shiiva walked toward the soup, spooning some more into her wooden bowl, and eating the sweet flesh of the roasted daelfruit with a pair of chopsticks. When Sheelal had returned to her, he looked happy. More elated than he ever had been in the short time Shiiva had known him.

But once they returned to the Kharankhui settlement, Sheelal didn't look well. He looked sick—elderly, even. The man was only twenty-five, but Shiiva could have easily said that he was forty.

Sheelal was also prone to anger, had a gaze that could melt solid metal, and did not suffer fools. It was Shiiva's goal to make sure she did nothing to aggravate her khagan, for fear of getting kicked out of the Kharankhui ranks and shamed for the rest of her days.

A voice spoke near her. "What are you doing alone?"

Shiiva almost choked on her meal. "Khagan, I apologize if I offended you in any way—"

Khagan Sheelal gave a low chuckle, but even that sounded bitter. "You have not offended me. Come with me. I need your help."

Shiiva swallowed, following her khagan away from the fire. Sheelal's head was covered by a black headscarf, a symbol of mourning—Shiiva assumed that it was from the Yam'rii, those vile beasts that had invaded their planet to turn the Kaleesh into their slaves. All of Sheelal's life, he had fought the creatures. Perhaps that was why the general had no peace.

They reached a small cottage, one that had blue and white flowers growing on the walls, clothing it in a soft dress of flora. Sheelal rested a heavy hand on the railing. "Get logs. Many logs."

Shiiva nodded, swallowing, as the khagan went inside. The heavy, weary air about Sheelal was so palpable Shiiva could feel it, even without possessing the strange gift Sheelal had to sense things before they happened and reach beyond the physical. It was why so many people hailed him as a demigod.

But before she could go out to collect the logs, she heard a sigh come from the inner room. She walked timidly toward the door, peering in, squinting.

Candlelight bathed the house in a soft glow. Sheelal was on his knees, cradling something close to his chest, rocking back and forth as if in a fit. His eyes were closed, and he was muttering something to himself.

Finally, Shiiva took a few steps closer. "Your Grace?" she called timidly. "Are you okay?"

At this, Sheelal turned and wept into the thing he was holding—and as Shiiva peered over his shoulder, she saw that it was a red-and-white wedding gown. Sheelal buried his face in the fabric, wracked with sobs, shuddering like a small child.

"Oh, Ronderu...." he mumbled through his tears. "My sweet Ru...." He shivered, holding the dress tightly against his chest, as if by squeezing it hard enough he could bring whoever this person was back to his arms.

Shiiva sat next to him, wrapping him in her arms, and he turned to sob into her shoulder. "We were supposed to marry," he said, his voice shaky like a small boy's, but he wasn't talking to her. "We were supposed to have a life and be happy together."

Shiiva didn't understand—she hadn't had any large loss in her life. Her parents had loved her. Her childhood was one of care and pampering. She could not sympathize with what Sheelal had gone through.

"I'm so sorry," she murmured, rubbing his back. Perhaps it was inappropriate for a grown man to hug a teenage girl, but she loved her khagan, just like every other soldier in the kolkpravis. They stuck together. They didn't leave one another to grieve alone.

He continued to weep into her shoulder. "I loved her. I loved her more than anything. And I....couldn't....save her."

Shiiva wasn't sure how to respond. "Your Grace, do you feel comfortable talking about her? Was she a good person?"

"She was the best person I've ever known....funny, sarcastic, so kind, gorgeous...."

Shiiva felt his grip around her tighten. "She had the most beautiful smile, and she was so hardworking. She was everything to me," he said, his voice close to a shout. "Shiiva, I can't move on from her!"

Shiiva pushed him away, backing up. All she had on her were some bitter herbs that might sting her khagan's eyes if they were thrown correctly. She did not want to have to incapacitate her khagan, but it was an option she would leave open if need be.

Sheelal crumpled again to the floor, clenching his fists. "Ru, I miss you!" His fit terrified Shiiva. It was like seeing a whole different side to the man that she had come to know—a monster living within the cover of calmness that she had thought she knew.

Abruptly, it stopped. And Sheelal lay there, his breathing labored, like a wound was puncturing his chest. Shiiva backed up slowly to the door, ready to leave and alert the medic, Emee Audrana so her khagan could get proper care.

Sheelal sat up, squinting at the wall. He stood shakily, then rushed over and made a motion like he was hugging someone. He pressed his mouth to invisible lips, moving his hands along a transparent body that was in reality only a figment of his bereaved mind.

It was then that Shiiva knew her khagan was sliding downward into insanity. She rushed out the door, looking for Emee Audrana's facility.

She never remembered to get the logs he'd asked her for.

(1196 words)

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