Chapter Text
Namaari felt the pull the first time they sparred together, years and years ago.
When Raya told her that she’d been training to be a guardian of the dragon gem, Namaari couldn’t tamp down the wave of competitiveness rising in her throat. It came out and spilled in the form of a verbal challenge, and Raya eagerly accepted.
They sneaked away from the palace party, finding an open field of gently swaying grass hidden on the side of a rolling mountain. Raya detoured and reappeared again, holding arnis sticks and a wooden spear. She tossed the spear to Namaari.
“And if I don’t know how to use a spear?” Namaari’s wrist itched to twirl the spear out of habit, but restrained herself for the sake of their banter.
“Namaari, you’re an open book.” The only warning Namaari got was a smirk from Raya before she brandished her arnis sticks and lunged forward, striking downwards forcefully.
Namaari’s arms moved of their own accord to parry the attack. She swiftly knocked Raya’s sticks off-kilter before sidestepping and swinging at Raya’s feet. Raya hopped over her attack and looked up at Namaari with a wide smile.
“See? Open book. I bet there isn’t a weapon that you don’t already know how to use.”
Raya’s wide smile was returned.
Their spar was like legions of waves coming up on shore - push and pull, push and pull, taking turns performing surgical strikes and then manipulated defensive maneuvers. The sharp sound of wood on wood carried itself upon the wind, and birds chirped in unison. To Namaari, the sun traveled rather quickly from directly overhead to barely peeking above the horizon, casting hues of orange and yellow that complimented their silhouettes pushing and pulling, pushing and pulling.
When the sun completely disappeared and the stars took its place, Namaari found herself laying spread-eagle on the grass, inches away from Raya who was doing the same. Instead of the sound of wood on wood, all Namaari heard was both their laboured breathing mingled into a mutual understanding.
They were equals.
“The dragons are still alive,” Raya whispered, and if Namaari weren’t inches away from her she wouldn’t have heard her at all.
“What?”
Raya’s hand fumbled along the grass until it grasped Namaari’s own. She lifted both their hands to the night sky, where the stars twinkled mischievously.
“The dragons are still alive,” Raya repeated. “See? There’s Sisu.” Raya wiggled their hands at a particular spot in the sky where the stars were more condensed. “And there’s Jagan.” She moved their hands to another spot of stars, wiggling again for emphasization. “Pengu. Amba. Prenee.”
Namaari claimed herself to be a dragon nerd, yet was more enamoured with the warmth of Raya’s hand, the gentleness of her grasp, and the smooth lilt of her voice than the dragon constellations themselves.
When Raya was finished with her list of apparent dragon constellations, she merely lowered both their hands to rest on the grass, not letting go. They stared at the same sky together in silence, thinking nothing about everything.
Namaari wished this peaceful moment would never end.
“Namaari?”
But the binturi beside her wouldn’t keep her mouth closed. Namaari bit down on a smile.
“What is it?”
“My father thinks Kumandra can still happen. That the nations can still all unite and coexist.” The ghost of a smile quickly wiped itself from Namaari’s face.
Your father is naive. The words threatened to escape her, but Namaari clenched her jaw.
“The dragon gem doesn’t really do anything special to Heart, you know,” Raya continued. At her words, Namaari took a sharp inhale. This ethereal moment that she so wished to never end was quickly spiraling into an inevitable collision with reality. With her mission. Appalled, she realized that a small part of her wished that Raya wouldn’t give her the opportunity to see the dragon gem for herself so that her mission would fail.
Namaari turned to look at Raya.
Lit under the dim light of the moon, the sparkle of Raya’s eyes rivalled those of the very stars she was gazing longingly at. Her lips were curved into a small smile, which quickly grew in size when she turned her head to meet Namaari’s stare.
“You know what, dragon nerd? I bet you would love to see the dragon gem up close.” When Raya stood up, Namaari felt the loss of contact from their hands far more than any of Raya’s hits during their spar.
She curled her hand into a fist instead, and when Raya offered her a hand up, Namaari stood up herself.
She had a mission to accomplish. She would not be deterred by the soft brown hue of Raya’s eyes, nor her easy smile, nor her charisma, nor her physical and verbal challenges that sate Namaari’s own competitiveness.
It was easy to ignore the pull when she didn’t think about anything, instead relying on the inner values her mother taught her. Particularly, one phrase repeated itself over and over when Namaari eventually betrayed Raya and soft brown hues sharpened into bitter blacks.
For Fang.
--
Namaari didn’t think about Raya for a very long time.
When she wasn’t at her mother’s side, she was training. True were Raya’s words that there wasn’t a weapon Namaari didn’t know how to use, but she refined her skills from daylight come nighttime until they were as sharp as her militaristic intellect. She loved the monotony of it, loved that she worried for naught but the next strike of her imaginary foe - as there was none in Fang skilled enough to spar her.
She didn’t notice that, more often than not, that imaginary foe took on the blurred appearance of having long, black hair and similar brown eyes, with an easy smile and challenge written all over her stance. Some days her opponent wielded dual wooden sticks, even though Namaari was wielding fine-tipped swords.
“Commander Namaari,” General Atitaya hailed her. Namaari froze, her focus broken, and her opponent dissipated into nothingness. She lowered her swords and the strain of her muscles came to fruition, pain shooting up her arm and her back. “Forgive me for interrupting your training."
“General,” Namaari greeted back.
“The dragon scroll has been stolen. Chief Virana requests your presence.”
Her opponent reappeared in front of her, but this time it wasn’t a blurry silhouette. This time, her features were startlingly clear.
Namaari’s jaw tightened. “I understand.”
No, she didn’t.
--
With gradual new information, her opponent’s features adjusted accordingly.
After Namaari questioned a Fang witness to the robbery, her opponent gained a long, free-flowing red cloak. Upon arriving at Tail, the interrogation of a local villager gave her opponent a straw hat. Along the tracks of a Tuktuk in the desert, the deep gauges in the dead bodies of once-hostile animals replaced her opponent’s dual wooden sticks with a keris blade.
That night, when her soldiers were sleeping in makeshift cots in the middle of the desert of Tail, Namaari stood a ways away from their camp.
She unsheathed her swords and stared straight ahead. In front of her, an image fizzled to life. Her opponent’s red cloak wasn’t billowing from the stillness of the desert, a sword sheath peeked out from her right side, and her head was tilted down, her facial features covered by the brim of her straw hat.
She still had long black hair.
Namaari growled and pushed. She pushed with all her might, only to find herself pulling an instant later.
--
“...rest of them are being held by no good binturis.”
After all these years, her voice still had that lilt.
Namaari’s Serlot came upon the crest of the cliff. She blinked.
This time, she wasn’t imagining her opponent.
Raya had her back turned to her, red cloak and straw hat ever the same. When Namaari got her attention, Namaari’s breath stopped briefly in her throat.
Raya’s eyes were still full of starlight.
It doesn’t matter, Namaari told the thumping in her chest. For Fang. For Fang. For Fang.
Those starlight eyes locked onto her own, then roamed. Namaari felt them slink over her legs, past her hips, linger on her arms, meander around her face and then settle back onto her own eyes.
Namaari smirked, and opened her mouth.
--
It doesn’t matter, Namaari told the thumping in her chest as she gazed upon the sea, Raya’s boat growing smaller and smaller until it was but a speck in the horizon.
She gripped the reins to her Serlot tighter and whistled for her band of soldiers to follow.
It didn’t matter that Raya was once again out of reach.
--
Get up.
It wasn’t the first time Namaari had beaten Raya in battle, and she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. That’s why…
Please get up.
The sight of Raya sprawled ungracefully on the snowy grounds of Spine made Namaari’s heart freeze up. Idly, she regretted throwing Raya’s sword so far away. There was no chance that Raya could counter, parry, or even block another one of her attacks.
At this point, her imaginary opponent would usually dissipate into thin air, or Namaari would let her stand, walk away, and gain her glory another time. But with Fang soldiers watching every miniscule movement of their princess, Namaari could not entertain any of those options.
She felt her soldiers’ eyes boring into her back, her hands, her eyes, their gazes scorching hot where they touched and crawled like Druun, a wild contrast from the cold of the biting wind that snaked past the trees and into her heart. Even a mere idle twitch of her fingers could be taken as hesitance and relayed back to her mother, signaling the beginning of Namaari’s forced resignation of her duty in intercepting Raya.
If she took action now, there would be no more Raya to intercept. If she didn’t take action now, someone else would do it for her, and undoubtedly inflict far worse things.
When Namaari’s hand went to rub at her other wrist in a feeble and unneeded attempt at intimidation, it seemed the decision was made for her.
She needed to stall.
Years of training gave her the knowledge of the fastest option to killing a prone opponent: a powerful stomp to the skull, or maybe kicks to the abdomen for further incapacitation, perhaps straddling them and choking their neck, even.
Namaari grabbed Raya’s shirt and pulled her up.
(Years of training berated the unnecessary action.)
Namaari cocked her fist past her ear.
(Years of training yelled in anger at the way her elbow was way past the position it should’ve been - a setup for a punch that would travel through the air for far longer than it should.)
Namaari wished to the dragons for someone, something, to intercept the interception.
And when smoke surrounded her and blocked the eyesights of her soldiers, she let her fingers lax and let Raya slip from her grip.
She looked around hurriedly, searching for the interceptor, the saviour. Had the dragons heard her plea? Had she deserved to have such a wish granted? Was it fate or was it luck?
A flash of blue came bounding out of the smoke, and Namaari found herself face-to-face with the very dragon she wished to, staring into the wise eyes of fate.
Thank you.
And they were gone, far gone before Namaari could even open her mouth.
--
“Then let me take the first step.”
Raya placed the Dragon Gem piece in her hand and stepped backwards, looking at Namaari with that look, that fucking look like she was gazing at the stars and still pointing them with careless and naive fingers, reaching but never touching.
Feeling the wretched Dragon Gem in her hand and seeing Raya step back ever so slowly, every second bring her more, more out of reach, more distant, more like the stars made Namaari’s panic coalesce into an all-encompassing beast even darker than the Druun around her. The beast clamped her jaw shut lest she say something stupid or smart that would bring the girl in front of her back to her.
Distantly, she heard Raya’s companions call out for her in panicked voices, but there was no way they were any louder than Namaari’s own heart, calling and yelling and pulling and pulling and pulling for Raya, for Raya, for Raya.
The Druun swallowed Raya’s figure and left behind a stone statue.
Namaari’s chest heaved, the beast threatening to pour out of her chest. She saw the image of her mother, a like stone figure, standing beside Raya, both their eyes closed, emotionless. No more stars. No more starlight.
All that was left was the piece of crystal in her hand. Her trust.
Raya’s companions looked at Namaari solemnly, and she looked back, just as lost. Seeing their expressions mirrored back at them must have solidified their resolve, as one by one they approached her, depositing their pieces of crystal into her hand and standing beside Raya like some sort of sick ritual.
With every piece in her hand making the weight of the pile grow heavier and heavier, so did Namaari’s heart. It was almost as if stones themselves were piling up in her throat, climbing higher and higher until it was clogged and she couldn’t breathe and her chest needed to keep heaving if she wanted to stay upright and stay staring at the stone figures of Raya and her companions standing lifeless yet tearing her heart in different directions; to them, to the open hole behind her, to her mother as a statue beside her throne, to Raya, to the stars, to death.
Namaari needed to run.
The tumbling of rocks alerted her to the makings of a hole leading to the ground surface, and she didn’t waste any time turning around and running and scrambling up the rocks, reaching closer and closer to the exit.
Namaari wanted to stay.
Her feet stopped dead in their tracks, and she looked back at the stone statues who gave her the very stones in her hand, gave her a life and a childhood, gave her guidance and counselling, gave her wonder and curiosity, gave her challenges and a good fight.
She looked back and saw her mother. She looked back and saw Raya.
The stones piled higher and higher in her throat and there was only one way they wouldn’t suffocate her.
Namaari sprinted back down the rocks. She spread the Dragon Gem pieces out on a rock’s flat surface and didn’t waste any time turning the rocks over and thinking and scrambling the pieces together, reaching closer and closer to the exit.
Finally, the Dragon Gem was assembled and whole. She stepped back away from it, watching carefully. It was almost comical how Namaari found herself in the exact opposite situation many many years ago.
Nothing happened.
Namaari swallowed nothing but air.
The Druun swirled around her mockingly, waving to and fro as if waving her goodbye to her inevitable end.
She didn’t think the exit would be like this.
But as she approached Raya’s side and looked at the girl’s once starlight-filled eyes reduced to nothing but pale, ashy gray, she realized that what she had always wanted was right here.
Raya was finally within reach.
Namaari placed a hand on Raya’s shoulder and closed her eyes.
--
The first thing Namaari saw when she opened her eyes was the cavern completely devoid of Druun, empty.
She looked to her left and saw Raya gazing at her with all the happiness in the galaxy condensed and sparkling helplessly in her brown eyes.
The first thing she should’ve felt was immense relief, but when Raya reached for her hand and clutched it tightly, Namaari was more enamoured with the warmth of Raya’s hand, the gentleness of her grasp, and the smooth lilt of her laugh than the world safe at last.
--
Dear Namaari,
I regret that I won't be able to see you for a few months. Well, Ba said two months specifically, but that seems like such a long time not seeing you, doesn’t it? Yes, it does. Yes, I answered my own question. It’s not like you can answer me anyways; by the time this letter reaches you, Ba and I would probably already be a week in our Peace Tour.
We’re going to visit each part of Kumandra. Ideally, each leader of the old nations of Kumandra will come together in a summit to address things like distribution of land, products, trade, and whatnot. Our peace tour is primarily just to prime the leaders for that very summit and smooth over any remaining rough edges. Ba is really keen on letting everyone know that Heart doesn’t hold anyone responsible for what happened six years ago. Who can blame anybody wanting the best for their nation?
That was rhetorical. You don’t get to answer that. Even a week later.
Our route goes like this: Heart, Talon, Tail, Spine, and Fang. There really isn’t anything meaningful about the order, but apparently Chief Virana and Ba came to an agreement, and decided that the summit should be held at Fang. It’s logical and would be a big step forward for Kumandra, right? Yeah, it is. I was the one who suggested it, of course.
I don’t know if overexaggerated confidence would translate onto parchment, but I sure hope it does for both of our sakes. This is the first letter I’ve ever written anyhow, you can’t blame me for not capturing my own essence.
In other news, Sisu is downright excited for the Tour. We’ve been trying to decide whether she should show up as human or a dragon to the meetings, but she finds the astounded look that people give her as a dragon so cute that she’s going to show up as a dragon. It’s going to be hilarious seeing people faint at the sight of the mighty Sisudatu. I’m surprised you didn’t drop dead right away at Spine when you first saw her. Well, maybe you did. The fog would have been too thick to see it. Damn. I would’ve loved to see if you did.
Speaking of the dragon, she’s trying to swat at me right now because she’s hungry. Mighty Sisudatu, my butt. I can’t blame her though; I can smell Ba’s adobo from here.
I’m really hungry now.
I miss you. I’ll see you soon. Maybe I can save some of Ba’s adobo for you. Maybe even cook it for you myself. I promise it won’t poison you. Probably.
- Raya
--
Dear Raya,
I find your rhetorical questions and answers endlessly endearing. Of course, those are small fry compared to all the other things I find endearing about you. It’s equally hard and easy to see how you were the one who saved all of Kumandra.
Namaari sat in her seat, her inkbrush idle in her hand. There were so many emotions that competed to spill onto the parchment, and it grew so overwhelming to the point where -
I can’t take it anymore. There are so many different feelings toiling inside me about our entire situation. About me. About you. Nothing bad, I promise. Although, it would be subjective.
I dislike the distance between us, in more of the literal sense. It took six years for us to be side by side once again, and even that took the near-ending of the world and you practically dying for that to happen. And you’re right; two months doesn’t seem like a long time compared to six years, but it is. It is, Raya.
There’s a part of me that demands to remain by your side. I know why. It’s because even when you were stone and I placed my hand on your shoulder, it was the only time anything ever felt right. Like everything inside me was finally sated. I should’ve been angry that the Dragon Gem didn’t seem to work initially. I should’ve felt sad. I should’ve felt a lot more emotions knowing that I was about to die and that the world would disappear.
But at your side, I felt… calm. At peace. The only thing I was disappointed about was letting you down all those years ago. That’s all I could ever think about when the world was ending. Isn’t that supposed to mean something?
And now it’s my turn with the rhetorical questions.
Remember what you said back in Tail? You weren’t wrong. I’d love to eat adobo even if it poisons me. Nothing can hurt as much as being apart, and that includes your cooking, which says a lot.
I know, you’d probably argue that drying jerky isn’t the same as cooking, and I’d probably tell you to come and prove me wrong. It’s ridiculous how easy your voice travels through my head, how easy your face forms out of nothing.
Anyways. This letter will never find you, I’m sure of it. I hope one day, the images and conversations with you floating around my head will come to fruition, but you’re Raya, bright as the sun, and I’m Namaari, the backstabbing binturi. It would take a miracle from fate to ever make it happen.
What am I even doing? I don’t even know where you are right now, if you’re in Talon or Tail. I wouldn’t even be able to send a letter.
The inkbrush fell carelessly onto the desk as Namaari quickly folded the parchment and shoved it somewhere in the depths of one of her drawers, ignoring how the parchment was still wet with more than ink.
--
Within two months, the letter was completely forgotten.
--
Namaari thought about Raya for just about every waking moment.
It was hard not to, given that a little over two months later as promised, both previous Dragon Gem guardians were at Fang, as well as Raya’s companions and Sisu. However, when they stayed for much longer than they did the other nations, Namaari was beginning to come to two reasonings: either the talks about the summit between her mother and Chief Benja were hitting walls due to the contrasting natures of their nations, or there were no more talks about the summit at all. Just… talks.
The latter was vastly more feasible.
“Nice digs,” Raya whistled as she entered Namaari’s room without permission. Namaari sighed in mock exasperation, but turned around to meet the princess anyhow. “I like what you… haven’t done with the place.”
At Namaari’s raised eyebrow, Raya laughed and inspected a shelf with exaggerated interest. “Books… Art of War, the eighth edition of Fang’s History, Tears for Spears - oh wow, even the fifth edition of Fang’s History. What variety!”
Namaari rolled her eyes. If she hadn’t just made her bed, she would’ve thrown a pillow at Raya’s head.
“No posters,” Raya said to her bare wall. “Weapons stashed neatly in a corner. Where’s the character - oh right, you don’t have one.”
“Hilarious,” Namaari deadpanned. “I have no need for knick knacks. Everything that I need is already here.”
The back of her brain mentioned that Raya was in the room. Namaari squashed the thought as quickly as it came.
“What happened to being a dragon nerd? Thought you’d at least have some life-sized diorama of Sisu.”
“I already have a life-sized diorama of a binturi right in front of me,” Namaari quipped. Raya promptly glared at her. Gorgeously.
“This life-sized diorama is on the verge of not giving you any of her homemade sinigang tonight.” Raya pointed an accusatory finger at Namaari. “She knows how much you like it.”
“I know there’s going to be sinigang for me.” Namaari smirked. “Life-sized binturi isn’t going to miss out on my company.”
“Are you just going to keep calling me a life-sized binturi?” Raya’s sidestep wasn’t missed by Namaari, and it made her heart quadruple in rhythm.
“Are you going to stop barging into my room unannounced?”
“I don’t hear you complaining.”
This time, it was Namaari’s turn to sidestep. “Actually, I might have to miss the group dinner tonight. I’m training the kids in the afternoon and still have paperwork to sign by midnight.” She picked up her sheathed dual blades from beside the bed and started to tie the rope securing the both of them around her waist. She tied her knots efficiently and quickly.
“Then come by at midnight.”
“You’ll be sleeping by then.”
“If you hated my sinigang so much, you could’ve just said so,” Raya sighed.
They both knew that wasn’t the case.
They stepped out of the room and into the hallways of the palace.
“If it makes you feel better, your soups are way better than your jerky.”
“I’m not… sure if that’s a compliment.”
Namaari laughed. “Think about it if you can, dep la ."
Raya gave her a look - one which Namaari knew well: her head tilted down, her eyes glinted from beneath her eyelashes, and a lopsided smirk plastered onto her face.
It was teasing and sultry, and though Namaari tried to match Raya’s look with one of her own, her heart threatened to fly out of her chest and cozy up to the curve of Raya’s lips.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, Namaari’s head was aching to do the same amidst her hardly-dented pile of scrolls and paperwork. Her wrist begged for a break from swirling signatures and check marks into parchment, and her eyes drooped from reading - from… how long has she been on this scroll?
Three abrupt knocks on her door made Namaari’s head snap up, shaking her from her reverie. It was definitely past midnight, and it was definitely not Raya given how her door hasn’t been barged through yet. Namaari sighed and her eyes tried to focus on the scroll in front of her once more. She must have read this same sentence over twelve times...
Three knocks again pulled a growl from Namaaris throat. It was absurd, disturbing the princess of Fang at this untimely hour. She rose from her seat and stomped towards the door, throwing it open.
Naught was there but a tiny, brown package wrapped in cloth, awaiting at her feet.
Namaari peeked out of her doorway, scanning the hallway left and right. Her groggy self had half a mind to find and detain the knocker for treason, but the way her eyes were half-lidded suggested otherwise.
She brought the package inside and set it on her table. Warm to the touch, she peeled away the cotton wrapping until a spoon and a piping-hot soup bowl was revealed, a folded note balancing precariously atop its lid. Namaari set aside the note, lifted the lid and inhaled its smell deeply.
Sinigang.
Namaari smiled.
She opened the note next and immediately recognized Raya's messy scrawl.
I know you’d never resist, and I know you’ll probably sleep with nightmares knowing that you missed my sinigang tonight. So... I decided to take pity upon you, dear binturi, and took it upon myself to relieve you.
Sleep soon and sleep well, dep la.
It was almost ridiculous how much Namaari was berating herself not even five minutes ago for reading the same sentence in her scroll over and over again, and now was doing the same for Raya’s note without any mind.
Idly, her thumb traced along Raya’s brushstrokes. It came away clean. The letter was not written recently.
Namaari glanced briefly at her paperwork for Fang and her brush still moist with fresh ink, then back towards the bowl of sinigang, smoking from its heat.
The bowl was empty ten minutes later.
Spoon haplessly cast aside, paperwork organized into neat piles, candles blown out, and bed no longer empty, Namaari breathed out a long, sated sigh.
She bathed in the darkness and stillness of her room, thoughts and images swirling around her head.
Raya, writing out the letter hours before it was delivered, planning her usurping of Namaari’s heart while sitting at a table with a fine brush and that adorable crease in her eyebrows. Ongis, wobbling under the weight of Raya’s sinigang, en route to Namaari’s room and rapping on her door as hard as their tiny little fists can. Raya, sound asleep and probably snoring under her covers in her room on the other side of the palace.
Raya.
Namaari fell asleep, at peace.
--
The very next night, concealed by the darkness, Namaari seeked out the Ongis with a pocket full of food morsels snatched from the Fang kitchen.
She knelt and gave them a package wrapped in familiar brown cotton and gave them clear instructions with an unwavering intensity that curiously made the Ongis stand ramrod straight. They nodded, mock-saluted, split the morsels of food between them, and scurried off into the distance towards the other side of the castle.
Namaari stood. She wiped the sweat off of her hands onto her pants.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay!” She shouted loud enough for the students to hear her, and clapped her hands for further effect. The clap resounded through the green rolling hills of their training grounds, echoing like an odd choir. “Enough! It excites me to see all of you eager to learn, but a soldier cannot fight without rest.”
The young students squealed at her apparent words of wisdom and broke their fighting stances, crowding around Namaari with expectant eyes and poorly concealed grins.
Namaari quickly glanced towards her mother’s direction. Her mother had her back towards her, preoccupied with discussing who-knows-what with Chief Benja.
She turned back towards the awaiting children with a conspiratory smile, kneeled, and opened her arms wide. “Quickly, before she sees!”
The kids screamed in delight - loud enough that Namaari was sure her mother heard - and rushed into her arms. Namaari tried to gather as many kids into her hug as she could, laughing loudly at the kids’ enthusiasm. The children cackled along with her.
There was no way her mother hadn’t heard.
The group hug was tight and sweaty, and the sudden onslaught of children would have pushed Namaari back onto her butt had she not taken a supporting knee backwards. The sound of combined laughter grew and grew like a tidal wave gathering before it crashed into the shore - but before that could happen, Namaari extricated herself from the large embrace and stood.
“Alright, naughty children. Go home and wash up. You all stink like Druun.” Namaari grinned at the offended gasps of the children before they set off towards their respective homes, excitedly discussing topics kids would only find interesting.
Namaari stared after them with a watchful eye, waiting until they departed safely from the training grounds.
“Princess Namaari of Fang, daringly withholding secrets from her mother?”
That lilt.
Namaari turned around to find herself face to face with Raya, dressed up in a simple tunic and pants fit for training. Even in such uninteresting garb, Raya still took her breath away.
She gazed at Namaari with soft eyes and an even softer smile. Long did Namaari wish she’d see Raya like this: happy, open, and comfortable.
A glint in Raya’s hair got Namaari’s attention.
“I see you got my gift,” Namaari said with a well-meaning head tilt. Raya huffed out a laugh and her hand rose to brush against her golden hair ring, sitting snug right where it used to be.
“I never thought I’d see this again,” Raya played along. She chuckled to herself. “I can’t believe it.” Her thumb ran along its etchings and Namaari suspected there was a story behind it that Raya would tell once they were behind closed doors.
“Fate has a strange technique for playing the strings, but one seldom imprecise,” Namaari blurted. Raya stared at her incredulously. “My mother always used to say that,” she tried to salvage, but the twinkling in Raya’s eyes told her that it was futile.
“Well.” Raya bumped her hip against Namaari’s, and Namaari stumbled a step back. “This particular string thanks you.”
“And this one thanks you for the sinigang.” Namaari hoped the sincerity in her eyes conveyed more than her flat tone.
Raya smiled simply in response.
They both knew it wasn’t that simple.
“Have you come just to banter,” Namaari motioned at Raya’s training garb, “or have you also come to get your butt kicked?”
Raya’s soft look turned dangerously inviting, the challenge exciting her just like Namaari knew it would. Namaari’s own mouth curled into a smirk.
“I think - no,” Raya reached behind her to her belt where her arnis sticks usually sit before they spar, “I know it’s going to be your butt kicked.”
After a pause, Raya suddenly blanched. Namaari almost couldn’t contain the laughter bubbling up her throat.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think… no, there’s no... I think I forgot the sti-”
Raya’s own yelp cut herself off as she caught the arnis sticks flying in her direction. She looked down at the sticks then back at Namaari, blinking owlishly.
“Dep la.” Namaari tightened her belt now that the sticks were out of her possession, laughing at the red crawling prettily over Raya’s cheeks. “Always predictable.”
“Hurry up and get your staff so I can make you eat your words,” Raya grumbled, taking the arnis sticks into her hands and settling them just like she had so many years ago.
Namaari snickered, incredibly doubtful. She turned and started to jog in the direction where she left her wooden staff leaning against a nearby tree, only to stop in her tracks.
“What’s the matter?” Raya called out from behind her.
Namaari frowned. She was sure she left her staff there - she had just used it to train with the kids prior! Though, the tree stood staff-less, and she put her hands on her hips.
Suddenly, an object smacked into the back of Namaari’s head and clattered to the floor. She whipped around at a grinning Raya holding one arnis stick, the other one now laying at Namaari’s feet.
“I saw Amie grab it on her way out,” Raya laughed.
“She’d make quite the place at Talon,” Namaari grumbled. She bent over to pick the stick up and weighed it in her hand.
“Oh, c’mon, can’t blame ‘em. You know how much the kids love you. A Princess Namaari souvenir? Hard to pass up.” Raya grinned and took up her fighting stance, balancing on the balls of her feet. “Besides, my gut tells me it’ll find its way back into the palace… somehow.”
Namaari didn’t have it in herself to keep up the angry act. She took up her own fighting stance, more solid in footing than Raya’s but no less nimble. They exchanged a look -
Are you ready?
Always.
- and charged towards each other.
Their arnis sticks clashed loudly, the sound reverberating along the wind breezing along the training grounds. They clashed, clashed, clashed again as the warriors took turns striking at the head, gut, legs, then blocking at the head, gut, legs.
Like the ocean, they ebbed and flowed together, pushing and pulling in unison, relentless and pursuing. When their eyes wandered away from each other, they found each other again, holding their gazes until the time came to strike again, to block again.
Idly, Namaari found herself comparing Raya to her imaginary opponent, but when Raya grinned maniacally after landing a lucky strike against Namaari’s abdomen, she soon found that there was nothing to compare at all.
When a particularly hard strike from Raya collided with Namaari’s stick, they found themselves inches away from each other. Namaari could feel the heat of exertion radiating from Raya’s body like a beacon. She could taste the salt of Raya’s sweat so close to her lips, could smell Raya’s lotion of vanilla and coconut, could hear her own heart threatening to beat itself out of her chest, and could see Raya struggling to keep her eyes away from Namaari’s own.
Neither of them pushed or pulled for a precious moment, basking in each other’s nearness under the guise of the pause after a hard strike. Raya’s eyes meandered, traveling around the expanse of Namaari’s face before pausing on her lips, then snapping back up to her eyes as if she realized they were technically still sparring.
“Had enough, mahal ?” Raya sounded a little breathless, which befuddled Namaari because they haven’t sparred for nearly as long as they usually do.
“ Mahal ?” Namaari chuckled. “You really do never run out of insults from Heart, do you?”
“Binturi’s getting boring.” Raya’s eyes danced with mirth.
“Alright, mahal .” The word didn’t quite have the same pronunciation out of Namaari’s mouth compared to Raya, but by the way Raya’s lips slightly parted, she thought she got it somewhat accurately. “Let’s finish this.”
--
Namaari sidestepped, then pirouetted, exacting one, two strikes milliseconds later. Her sharpened blades sparkled under the sun’s concentration, and they soon turned into imperceptible blurs as she struck the empty air quickly and efficiently, the blades slicing surgically into the spaces her mind commands. Each strike painted a path in Namaari’s mind, her blades brushes for the artist, each stroke smooth and sure.
One final strike and she stopped, her breaths laboured and her chest puffing in and out at a controlled pace. One final twirl of her swords and she sheathed them, straightening out her spine and nosing into the sky, taking a deep breath that filled her lungs and dusted every unpolished crevice of her soul.
“Now that was totally badass!”
Namaari craned her head to see a woman with wild white and blue hair bounding towards her, her oversized shirt comically wiggling with every chaotic step.
Sisu.
“Sisudatu,” Namaari breathed, and her hands immediately came up to her forehead to form an ‘o’.
Sisu stared at the salute.
Sisu slapped it out of its shape.
Namaari blinked at the dragon in human form with eyebrows raised to her hairline. Sisu laughed at her expression.
“We’re friends, Namaari! No need to do any of that dragon-legendary crap.”
“I’d just like to show my respect -”
“And I know you do.” Sisu smiled. “Which is why I’m telling you that we’re friends, and why I’m telling you that you don’t need to do any of that.” She squinted at Namaari’s face, and Namaari subconsciously took a step back. “Jeez, you really don’t take any hints.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind! Look, just wanted to come down here and say you totally looked hot doing your warrior-people things. Raya sure loved the show.”
Namaari frowned. She glanced towards the hill where Sisu came from only to find it empty. “Raya? I thought she was with her father today.”
“Have you seen yourself? No one can blame Raya for taking a little break to see the fireworks,” Sisu giggled. “She called you a megan-dah today. Or was it maganda ? I can’t remember. Heart language is so weird sometimes.”
“Always coming up with new insults,” Namaari grumbled. She wiped the sweat from her forehead with her forearm. “Raya.”
“Dunno.” Sisu looked at the hill, then leaned in closer towards Namaari’s ear. “She didn’t say it like one.”
“How else would she say it?”
Sisu groaned and buried her face into her hands. “Water dragon, relationship dragon.”
“What was that?”
“Y’know,” Sisu continued, completely bulldozing over Namaari’s question, “Ask her yourself. Ask her what that word means.”
Just as Namaari was about to crawl into bed and bask in the darkness of the night, a small thunk on her windowsill got her attention.
Just like so many weeks ago, there she found a note that was no doubt deposited by the Ongis. Just like every note ever addressed to Namaari, she recognized Raya’s scrawl.
She smiled, deposited the note in a box in her drawers that was filled to the brim with others just like it, and made her way towards the garden.
She found Raya standing in the middle of the moonflowers, head tilted upwards towards the night sky, hair swaying gently along with the warm breeze. When she heard Namaari approaching, she looked towards her with a warm smile.
“Namaari,” she breathed.
It was jarring - not in an unpleasant way - to hear Raya sigh her name dreamily rather than spit out another one of her countless insults. Namaari felt her heart warm, and let her mind wander to the possibility of hearing Raya utter her name in… other instances.
“Raya,” she greeted back.
“The moonlight suits you,” Raya blurted. A small dusting of pink had accumulated on her cheeks, and Namaari longed to run her thumb across it.
She hid her hand in her pockets and clenched her fist instead.
“I could say the same for you.”
“Then why don’t you?”
Raya, always with the challenges. Namaari’s lips twitched. “Raya. The moonlight suits you.”
The pink dusting intensified into a solid red. If Namaari herself didn’t feel heat coating her own cheeks, she would have teased Raya about it.
They stood there for a blissful moment, taking each other in. The birds of the night chirped like an odd peanut gallery, filling the empty air with pleasant background noise. The warm breeze tickled the small hairs on the back of Namaari’s neck, and was so comfortingly warm that the two warriors basked in its welcome embrace.
Namaari breathed in deeply. She smelled the moonflowers, on the verge of blooming, their petals weeping away from its centre, glowing in the darkness. She smelled vanilla and coconut, dancing along the wind. Its source fiddled with the hem of her shirt.
“I just thought it was a nice night to share,” Raya confessed with a wry smile. Namaari returned it and motioned towards the ground.
“For once, you are right.”
Raya shot her a look, but relinquished the opportunity for banter, instead laying down on the grass and staring at the sky. Namaari promptly followed.
The smell of vanilla and coconut intensified.
Namaari gazed upon the stars, where they twinkled unerringly and certainly. It occurred to her that these might have been the very same stars that Raya and her were gazing upon years ago.
“How are you?”
It took a moment for Namaari to reply.
“Everything seems… surreal.”
“Surreal?”
Namaari’s hand lifted, and she inspected it carefully. It seemed Raya was curiously doing the same.
“The stars. You, me. Everything.”
There was a cute little wrinkle in between Raya’s eyebrows that effectively told Namaari she had to elaborate. She laughed, and the sound dissipated the wrinkle.
“These,” Namaari stopped inspecting her hand to point towards the sky, “are the same stars we stared at. Do you remember?”
“How could I forget?”
“Many things have happened since then, and yet we still find ourselves here, in a field, laying down and admiring the stars.” Namaari’s hand dropped to the space between them. “You told me the dragons were still alive. Little did you know that you yourself would make that happen.”
“You too.” Namaari glanced at Raya to find the other girl looking at her instead of the stars. “You made that happen too.”
Namaari could laugh. “I did the exact opposite. Every single insult you called me - binturi, mahal… it’s all true. And I don’t know how or why you’re still lying down next to me right now.”
Raya’s mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again. “ Because they’re true.”
Raya seized Namaari’s hand with her own and squeezed it.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“You trusted me. And I-”
“Does that make it my fault then? Because I trusted you?”
Namaari frowned. “No, but-”
“You were young.” Raya sat up, and because their fingers were intertwined, Namaari sat up as well. Raya used their hands to nudge Namaari on the shoulder. “It was for Fang, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, but-”
“And if it weren’t you, how long would it be until another tribe goes for the gem again? There’s a reason why Ba and I were the guardians of the Dragon Gem, and it wasn’t just for the cool name.”
“If it weren’t for me, countless people wouldn’t have been turned to stone and lost six years of their lives!”
“If it weren’t for you, we’d all be stone!” Raya’s voice raised, until her eyes were darting around Namaari’s face, picking her apart and seemingly pleading she’d find hope. “Namaari.”
Namaari shook her head and looked away. Her eyes tried to focus on a blooming moonflower nearby, but the moonflower kept blurring. She clenched her fist harder.
“Nobody is to blame for what happened. It’s not your fault.”
“Then whose?” Namaari slammed her eyes shut, making the moisture in her eyes escape and roll down her cheeks. “Whose? I broke your trust, then I broke it again. I was the reason why the Dragon Gem broke, why Tong was alone for all of those years, why Noi had to be taken care of by some Ongis, why Boun had to build that ship. Why your father and my mother got turned to stone-”
She was cut off by the press of soft lips against her own. Namaari’s voice got caught in her throat, and the scent of vanilla and coconut suddenly swallowed the air around her. Every inhale gave her lungfuls of the smell, and Namaari closed her eyes.
Raya sucked on her bottom lip gently, as if only just to make Namaari aware that it was there. Namaari whimpered, but Raya swallowed the sound, squeezing her hand again.
Namaari didn’t deserve this, she thought. She didn’t deserve the soft press of Raya’s lips, nor the warmth of their conjoined hands, nor the warmth of the breeze, nor the calming chirps of the night birds around them.
As if Raya could read her mind, she interrupted Namaari’s thoughts by pushing her slowly to lay on the ground. Namaari’s head rested on the grass, and when she felt Raya pull away from her, her eyes opened.
“Why I just kissed you,” Raya finished. Her lips - the very same that Namaari was just kissing, her brain reminded herself - curled upwards. It took a moment for Namaari to process what she meant. “We can’t change the past anymore, and it’s really safe to say that you’ve made up for it. That, even now, you’re still making up for it.”
Idly, Namaari noticed that Raya’s own cheeks were glistening, and realized that it was her own tears smeared on Raya’s face from the kiss. Without thinking, Namaari’s hand raised to thumb at the moisture. Her hand stilled when Raya closed her eyes and leaned into her hand.
“I’ve been calling you mahal ko this entire time,” Raya huffed with a laugh, “not only because the moonlight suits you or because you’re beautiful or whatever other compliments exist on the entirety of Kumandra, but because you’re still the same person you were six years ago.”
“A backstabbing binturi?”
“A dragon nerd.”