triangularity | AUs of our AUs: A timeline diverges, and a would-be queen leaves her kingdom behind.

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hadand

AUs of our AUs: A timeline diverges, and a would-be queen leaves her kingdom behind.

Hadand knew he was here. She waited in the throne room, dressed in her family's green rather than the royal crimson, a black sash at her waist. Cama stood by in Shield Arm position, having had both the faith in Hadand and Evred and the air of authority necessary to take over the Guard and back Hadand's orders. When Evred finally reached the throne room, his arrival heralded as much by the people's gasps and murmurs as by any formal announcement, she saluted, fist to heart.

Everything blurred together after that. Evred got her alone at first opportunity, taking Hadand by the hands once they were safely shut into the royal nursery where they had grown up together. "You held the kingdom. There's nothing greater anyone could ask."

It struck her suddenly, how tall and straight he'd grown. Only his expressions distinguished him from his late father. There were new lines around his eyes since last she'd seen him. Even at twenty, he was old enough and wise enough that Hadand could easily trust him with a kingdom. She would trust Evred with anything, herself included. He could never care for her romantically, of course, and she stamped out any faint tendrils of attraction before they could take root and grow strong.

"Sponge--" she started, cutting herself off at use of the childhood nickname. "Evred, I know you have far more than your share of worries right now, but could I ask you to take on one more?" At his nod of assent, an unspoken 'of course' implied in the look that accompanied it, she continued. "There are whispers in the palace. Eyes follow me, and people stop speaking when I enter a room. I've no wish to burden you, but things changed after my father went home to Choread Elgaer. I fear it may mean more trouble coming."

He squeezed her hands briefly before releasing them. "Hadand," and he paused here to consider his words, "you know that I trust you completely, and know you too well to believe any testimony against you." The one bit of broken trust between them had been long-since forgiven, though never forgotten. Evred loved her like a sister. He had always trusted and looked up to her, in a way he never had his own sibling.

"That means there is false testimony," Hadand concluded, as he'd known she would. "Lies to further muddy the waters, as if things weren't bad enough. What do they say?"

Evred's mouth twisted. "You were implicated in my brother's assassination." At her look of outrage, he continued, "I doubt they can get you executed for it, but they will almost certainly have you imprisoned in the numbers they are amassing to back their story.

"Hadand, I want you to go. Like Inda." He never mentioned Inda aloud anymore, but Hadand knew her youngest brother was always in Evred's thoughts. The name alone was proof of his seriousness. "I want you out of reach of this, and there will be no honorable return to Iasca Leror. It is all I can do for you. You deserve to be Hadand-Gunvaer, and hailed as Deheldegarthe by the people. You earned that place. You defended the throne with your own two hands, and I had thought to ask..."

He trails off momentarily, before shaking his head. "Go to Lindeth Harbor. Sail on the ship with least ties to home."

Hadand had remained stoic throughout the speech, but that last word, home, broke her facade. Evred could see how lost she felt now, rather than just surmising it. She knew nothing of space travel. When Barend came home to speak of his time aboard ships, it sounded like nonsense to her. And Iasca Leror was, of course, her home. Hadand could recall no time when she had not known that she would be its queen one day. Her life was here. Her family, what little of it remained to her, was here.

Her family.

With Hadand gone, that would leave not a single one of her parents' children alive and within the kingdom. Her mother would be left with the two girls she'd raised to wed the two sons now lost to her, and not even any letters from a daughter in the royal city as consolation.

That was unacceptable. "If I go," she said quietly, "I need a promise from you. As my friend, my family, and my king."

"Anything," he promised, "if it is within my power to do."

Hadand breathed deep before she spoke again, chin jutting out stubbornly. "Bring my brother home. Swear it to me, and swear it to my mother. Write to my mother from time to time. Tell her I escaped safely. Pass along my love, if you can manage it." She reached out, very lightly touching Evred's arm. Her voice was very soft. "Inda's situation was nothing like mine. He refused a whipping after contrived boyhood dishonor, not because he was afraid but because he did not deserve it. Find a way to set it aside. The revelation of your uncle's other treachery should help. Find Inda, and set things right."

He said he would, and so, she left.

As luck would have it, Hadand found the most foreign ship of all, one whose ties were in an entirely different part of the galaxy. Hadand pled her case with Captain Janeway of the Voyager and was allowed aboard. It pained her to leave Iasca Leror and know that there would truly be no return, but at least now there can be no second guessing.

Hadand can never go home.

She tries to settle into her new life aboard ship, the greenest of new recruits but willing to learn. Hadand cautiously works her way into the crew trying to find a place and a purpose after losing the only ones she'd known.

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"Most do," Chakotay agrees easily. "Some species are a little different. For instance, a Vulcan's lifespan is much longer than that of any human. Tuvok is over a hundred years old." Vulcans might be the best example of this but it might also be slightly petty that Chakotay chooses to use Tuvok as the Vulcan example. In any case, Naomi Wildman is a much better topic. "Naomi is half-human and half-Ktarian. Her Ktarian side means she grows and develops faster than a human, so she looks and acts older than she actually is."

Naomi is a perfect example of how the crew has evolved and taken on more tasks than where they began. She is also a perfect example of the dedication with which Voyager's crew works. Every member is necessary and each death is felt not only personally, but also professionally, as others have to stretch their duties to encompass those of their fallen comrades. Gaining a few from the Equinox had helped, but they never could afford to lose anyone. Maybe that was what helped keep them together when all was said and done: their absolute and intrinsic need for each other. The Starfleet crew could never have survived with half their number dead and the Maquis could never have made it out of the Delta Quadrant alone. The Val Jean had lacked the firepower and endurance to manage an extended stay in this region of space. Separate, they were impossibly weak, but together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

"It's more that we like to keep on top of everything. If something happens and suddenly you're showing abnormal readings, at least with recent medical records, we can more easily rule out what it isn't and figure out what it is. But... I think I'll let the Doctor explain further."

He gives her an amused look as the Doctor's exasperation becomes even more clear. As they part, Chakotay turns to head back for his quarters to prepare for their evening and the Doctor motions Hadand into sickbay, speaking just loudly enough for Chakotay to hear as he leaves. "The Commander has a habit of protecting people he thinks are worth the effort." Though, really, he should know better. "I'll need to take a scan today, to get your medical records on file. I trust the Commander told you that much."

In all fairness, the Doctor's exasperation isn't entirely real. He's just spent time worrying about the Captain and now this. Honestly, what do people take him for, a butler, a security officer, or a doctor? Mulling that over, he moves to pick up one of the medical tricorders and brings it over for a scan.

"If you'll just sit on one of the beds, this won't take long and you can return to your time with the Commander." That is the bonus to this particular visit: the scan itself won't take more than a few minutes. Unfolding the tricorder, he points it at her and lets it do its thing.

She nods, humming light agreement and acknowledgement, though it does surprise Hadand that Tuvok is so much older than the rest of the crew. Naomi sounds charming and Hadand hopes to get to know her at some point. As for the medical exams, she supposes that the dangers are far more varied and unexpected out in unknown space than they would be at home. She can see where he has a point.

If Chakotay looks back as he leaves, he'll see the same thing the doctor does. Despite ducking her head, Hadand fails to hide the smile that springs unbidden to her face at the observation that Chakotay considers her worth his time and effort. And protection, though Hadand has always done her best never to need that. Chakotay has shown that he enjoys her company and considers her worth spending time with, but to have it bluntly stated by a stranger warms her heart. It's also a little nerve-wracking, given her newly realized feelings toward the Commander.

Hadand complies with orders as always, boosting herself easily onto one of the sickbay beds.

"You're welcome to do any tests you need," Hadand tells the doctor, realizing as she does, "Commander Chakotay never did mention your name. You know mine by now, I assume, if you've been trying to bring me in for an exam. What should I call you, Doctor?"

The scans reveal a very healthy woman who clearly exercises regularly. The only old injuries on her, if the tricorder can pick them up, are the small scars already visible to the eyes scattered on her hands, a deeper scar on her left forearm, and one finger that was broken several years ago. There are a couple of irregularities, though.

Hadand does get menstrual cycles, but she doesn't ovulate. Her womb isn't an environment that could currently bring a baby to term. She is infertile, her body incapable either of initiating or supporting a pregnancy.

There's also something odd about her digestive system and the way waste is processed. It appears as if it would work normally, but it's far more complex than most. Seemingly needlessly so.

The question of a name gives the Doctor obvious pause, as though he hasn't considered the idea before or he's surprised she asked. "I'm just the Doctor," he answers slowly. "I wasn't made with a name and though I did try to come up with one during the first two years in the Delta Quadrant, I never found one I really like. So... I'm just the Doctor. I'm surprised the Commander didn't tell you that."

It's not like it really matters in the long run. Were Kes still here, she would likely do everything she could to encourage him to keep searching, but he's given up. Not having a formal name doesn't make him feel any less real than the rest of them and that's what really counts. Still, it's a surprise that she even asked. Partway through the scan, he lowers his tricorder just a little as he comes to a sudden realization.

"He didn't tell you anything, did he?" Now it's clear why Commander Chakotay hadn't brought her in sooner: he was trying to make sure she could handle having a hologram for a doctor. He can't decide if this is helpful or insulting. Raising the tricorder to continue the scan and wearing a look of consternation on his face combined with my life is so difficult, he continues with, "I'm a hologram. It seems the Commander wanted you a little more familiar with Voyager and her technology before he brought you to see me." Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. "You've got several scars I'll heal before you go, but otherwise you're in perfect health. As far as I can tell."

The Doctor continues the exam, going over everything he finds with her and figuring out how her body works. AS much as she'll tell him. Back in quarters, Chakotay prepares for the evening, washing up and pulling together everything he wants to show Hadand when she's ready to call him over. He's thrilled about this development and even though he knows he'll have to keep his feelings under wraps, the evening should prove enlightening. He plans on talking about spirit guides and maybe she'll let him help her find hers.

She pays close enough attention to the Doctor's words to catch 'made' in there instead of born. Her brow is furrowed in confusion right up until he clarifies. It's very clear that no, Chakotay didn't tell her anything.

"Are you?" Hadand asks curiously, eager to learn rather than looking down on the Doctor for what he is. "Up until he took me to the holodeck today, I'd never seen a hologram. Your programming is obviously much more advanced than the only person we encountered there."

And with a very soft laugh, she adds, "Commander Chakotay did warn me that he felt I might find a medical visit overwhelming, but nothing more specific than that. I wonder why." A joke at their expense, perhaps, though not an unkind one.

Hadand tells the Doctor about the fact that infertility isn't unique to her, though he finds the idea of an entire species deliberately making its women infertile appalling. On realizing that gerda doesn't grow and isn't available outside of her own system and the neighboring ones, Hadand's heart sinks a little. She wasn't thinking so far ahead. It didn't occur to her, to bring the root with her. Not when she didn't plan on children for years.

She'll never be pregnant now, according to the Doctor. There's always the Birth Spell, she supposes, but there's no guarantee it will work. Its name is a holdover from when they believed it to be magic. Now, they acknowledge that there must be a scientific explanation for its success, but no one has managed to find one yet. Hadand will try it, though. Perhaps it will be successful. Thinking of Aunt Ndara now is steadying in a way it hasn't been since the woman's death. Both because Ndara's own son was born by Birth Spell, and because Ndara loved Hadand as dearly as she would have loved a daughter of her own. Hadand knows that it doesn't take shared blood to be a mother, because she had that example in front of her all her days growing up.

She frowns at the idea of removing all the scars. "The one on my arm aches sometimes," Hadand admits, "and I won't mind its absence, but would you please leave my hands alone?" The scars on her hands are reminders of all the hours spent with knives in them. Of home, and of training. She isn't sure she wants to lose those marks. In them, she can trace the history of her improvement as a fighter. All are years old, because Hadand has gotten too good to make any mistakes that leave scars in a very long time.

When she does get back to her quarters after the Doctor is through with her (scars on her hands intact despite his protests), Hadand checks the time before changing her clothes. Tonight, she unpacks blatantly Algara-Vayir clothing, silver owls in flight embroidered beautifully along all the edges of the light grey wool robes, with matching embroidery at the hems of wide trousers that would do nothing to impede her movement in a fight or on a horse. Hadand traces a few of the wings and thinks of her family before shaking her head and briskly slipping into them.

She negotiates with her replicator for awhile, finally managing to come up with the closest approximations she can to a Marlovan meal. The bread is the thing she's most picky about, and Hadand spends several minutes just trying to get that right. Finally, she deems her efforts a success. "Hadand to Chakotay," she calls him. "You're welcome whenever you're ready."

And when he arrives, Hadand opens the door with a smile. "Thank you for joining me."

Chakotay is meditating when he receives the call from Hadand, trying to tame the nerves that suddenly sprang up as the time neared. It's been a while since he felt nervous like this and he's had to be careful with what he allows himself to focus on. It's been a struggle, admittedly, and he's almost certain that his spirit guide is laughing at him somewhere. That would be appropriate to his life. Taking a deep breath, he pauses before answering her call. "I'll be right there."

And he will be. When her door chimes and she gives the call for him to enter, he's standing there holding a bundle. His medicine bundle, to be exact, not that she would know right away. As his eyes land on her, a slow smile spreads across his face, lips pursed together before they part with no small amount of fondness. He holds himself back, not wanting to become to overbearing too quickly, only stepping forward when she gives him the okay.

"Thank you for inviting me," he answers easily. "I admit, I'm starting to feel under-dressed."

He might be joking. He might not be.

"I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of bringing something with me," he continues as he steps inside and lets the door hiss shut behind him. "But I wanted to show you this. After your traditions."

Restday first. Then they can move on to his people and their culture. He'll wait for her to tell him what to do and where to be, as he doesn't know what to expect with this. If nothing else, he is eager to learn and just as eager to share his life with her.

In more ways than he really wants to admit.

She would hardly invite him to dinner and leave him standing in the doorway to her quarters. Stifling a smile at that pause, she says warmly, "Come in, Chakotay."

Hadand laughs outright when he speaks. Chakotay's comment cuts through her own nerves at the prospect of the evening as well as any small lingering griefs from her conversation with the doctor. In style, the clothes vary little from what he usually sees her in. A vast majority of her clothes are grey or green, family colors. Few have the owl of the Algara Vayir banner worked on them, though, the decoration on these far more intricate than most of her wardrobe. "It seemed a good time to wear something from my family. We are having a Marlovan celebration."

And celebration it is. It's obvious, glancing at the meal waiting, that Hadand really hasn't been spending her replicator rations. There's more than enough food for both of them, and Chakotay may recognize bits of it. There are no leola roots to be seen. It isn't quite the typical fare for any one Marlovan meal. Instead, Hadand tried replicating a lot of her favorite things, or as close as she could get without having anything new programmed into the replicators. Oatcakes, honey, cabbage, and a variety of other foods in small portions surround what is clearly the focal point of the meal. Dark bread rests in the very center of the table, and Hadand can't help taking a deep breath in to appreciate the scent of it. It's the closest her quarters have come to smelling like home.

Beckoning him toward the table, Hadand takes a seat on one side of it.

"I want to see what you brought," she insists firmly, "though I agree that my turn should come first because I wouldn't want all the food to get cold. How could I ever mind you offering to share your traditions with me?" That, among too many things for her to count, is something Hadand would have hoped for but never asked of him. She is still shaken by her earlier realization. It's sinking in now, settling into her heart as well as her body. The overwhelming affection and gratitude she feels, knowing that he really does want to share with her in ways above and beyond what she asked, aren't lust or even merely friendship. They are considerably more than that. Hadand hesitates to put the proper name to the emotion when she doesn't yet know Chakotay's feelings, but she knows that tactic will only last so long.

Not naming something changes nothing of what it is.

"You look lovely," is the next thing out of Chakotay's mouth as he watches her. The reaction is out of his hands, an instantaneous thing due to how lovely she really does look in actuality and the fact that he does partially want to impress her and make her feel as wonderful as she looks.

As soon as she motions towards the table, he moves closer, setting his medicine bundle on another surface, where it won't be in the way or in danger of being hurt, knocked off, or spilled on. The bundle is sacred to him, special in a way that he can't quite explain. Not yet. He wants to try, which is why he brought it, but that can wait. Right now they need to focus on the actual dinner and it is an amazing dinner, indeed. It's been a long time since he smelled or saw anything quite like this. If she really isn't using her replicator rations except for this... well, she must be very brave to stomach Neelix's leola root cooking so often. No one else does.

He takes a seat where she indicates, glancing over the food appreciatively. "You seem to have found your way around the replicators pretty quickly. And well. This looks delicious. Is it all what you would have in your home?" His curiosity will likely never die out entirely. It might simply dampen or fade over time, once he decides not to be as open with it as he is now. Or it might remain as it is. At this point, he won't try to decide where their relationship might go. For all he knows, it won't go anywhere else.

More and more, for better or for worse, this is beginning to feel like his friendship with Kathryn, right down to his realization of his feelings for her and also the knowledge that nothing could ever come of them. Hadand's situation might be different, but at this point, he doesn't yet know her well enough to figure out if that is even a possibility and honestly he would rather have her as a friend than nothing at all.

"You'll have to teach me your traditions first," he comments, waiting to see what sort of pre-meal traditions her people have, if any. The last thing he wants is to mess up such an important day for her.

Hadand isn't used to compliments, especially of her looks. Appreciative glances at her body are familiar things but 'lovely' is a first. Next to Joret, no one stopped to think Hadand beautiful, however attractive and likeable they found her.

That the compliment comes from Chakotay only makes it more striking. She inhales sharply, wondering if this means she dares hope he might be as attracted to her as she is to him. She can't hope for more than that. It's too much to expect. Even the silent questions in her mind aren't enough to stop the smile spreading slowly across Hadand's face, one that she can't hide despite ducking her head. Hadand manages a quiet, "thank you," her voice steady only due to years of training for command and diplomacy.

Questions about the food, at least, are far easier to interpret and respond to. "It's as close as I could manage. I spent awhile talking to the replicators. The bread took me five minutes," she admits, adding a little more quietly, "I wanted it to taste like home."

As for Hadand's traditions, she tells him, "You don't need to do anything. Just hold out your hand." He can ask any questions he likes over their meal.

When he complies, Hadand takes a small loaf of dark rye bread, rich with nuts and honey, and tears it in two. She offers one half to Chakotay, unable to keep herself from squeezing his hand in companionship as she does. It's the same gesture she'd offer to a brother or a close friend, but attraction spirals through her now just as strongly as it did earlier on the holodeck. This time, she was braced for it, half longing and half dreading. As their hands touch, Hadand meets Chakotay's gaze and says, "As strength to the body, so strength to the spirit."

She hates withdrawing her hand from his, but Hadand forces herself to do it with no visible hesitation, resting it in her lap as the other hand brings her own share of the bread to her mouth.

It means exactly what she thinks it does, but he won't be mentioning anything for quite some time, if ever. That's just how he works. It's easier to let her come to him. Then he doesn't have to worry about possibly misinterpreting things or being too eager. If he knew of her feelings, he would be happy to try something. But right now, he is working off what he knows best: hints and distance.

He also decides that he likes that smile of hers. If he can find more ways to bring that forward, he certainly will.

As for the food and traditions attached, Chakotay easily does as instructed. Holding his hand out to her, he locks gazes with her as she squeezes his hand and for a moment he debates the meaning of so simple a gesture. It could be part of her traditions, part of whatever ceremony this is. Or it could be something entirely different. He resolves to ask the spirits later tonight. For now, he returns the squeeze and lets go only when she does. When she takes her bite, so he takes his, savoring the taste of it with reverence. Only when an appropriate time appears does he speak again.

"This is wonderful. I haven't had good bread in a very long time."

The gesture isn't part of any ceremony. It was prompted by her own selfish desire to touch Chakotay, given the opportunity to do so in a way that was friendly and would place no pressure upon him. Hadand may have acknowledged the strength of her feelings, but she refuses to burden Chakotay with them.

She eats all of her bread before she speaks again, not because speaking is entirely forbidden but because she's so busy savoring the first bread she's had since leaving home. Homesickness washes over Hadand, and watching Chakotay across from her is the only thing that makes it bearable.

"At home, the highest ranking woman present passes out bread to everyone." At Tenthen, that meant her mother spent a long time distributing it to all of the castle, though the royal palace was too big for that to be a viable option. Normally, the task is a much more time-consuming one. "It wouldn't feel right to eat bread on Restday without someone here to share it." She's so grateful for his presence, her gaze on him warm.

With his comment, she agrees wholeheartedly, "It's been too long for me. Bread is the food I've missed most, and not just for eating. Whenever I opened my windows at the palace, I could always smell grass and baking bread."

Chakotay respects her unspoken wish, staying as silence as she is for as long as she is. He enjoys the bread as much as she does, though perhaps not quite to the same degree. Every so often, their gazes meet over the table and he gives her a small smile, one that is no less warm than any other he's ever given her.

When they finally break the silence that's fallen over them, he listens. "Then I am grateful that I could be here," he answers honestly. Really, he is, and not just because the bread is wonderful. He really is happy to provide this for her, to be able to give her a part of her home that she would feel incomplete without. It's a high honor, as far as he's concerned.

"The closest we have to that is spending a lot of time in the mess hall or the holodeck," Chakotay admits thoughtfully. "Though the holodeck might be the better choice. You might get the smell of leola root stew if you stick around the mess hall too long." He's joking, but it is a valid concern.

"What other traditions do you think you'll try to keep here?" A part of him wants to know what else she might want to ask him to help with, while a part of him just wants to know more about her culture. What is she used to? How have her people developed over time? The anthropologist in him is very, very interested in this study of cultures, both hers and his.

Those smiles help with the homesickness too, in addition to the simple comfort of his presence.

"I am too," she says. There isn't anyone else aboard Voyager who she's quite this close to, no one else she'd approach to ask for the favor of their company, even if there are a few she'd welcome. Hadand has already expressed her gratitude to Chakotay, but she offers it again with a soft smile.

And she grins at the realization that he's right. The holodeck program did have smells, not just sight and touch. "I hadn't thought so far as to consider programming the scents of home as well as the sights, but I'd like that very much."

As for other traditions, Hadand pauses a moment to consider. "Restday bread and songs, along with practicing the Odni, are the most important to me. At least of those that happen regularly." She brushes her fingers against her wrists, adding, "I'm armed right now. I hope you don't mind. Before coming aboard the ship I never let my knives out of reach except in the baths. Not since I was a little girl. I still feel naked without them." So she wears them whenever she can, which is, for now, limited to her own quarters.

Other traditions that come to mind aren't daily or weekly. They're longer reaching things. "This may be morbid, but the last Marlovan song I sang was Hymn to the Fallen. If I'm not among my people, no one will know it to sing me onward when I die."

The next thing, she hesitates to mention around Chakotay given the depth of her feelings for him, but she would say it to any friend. Hadand is resolved to scrupulously treat him as exactly that unless she ever has any indication her love would be a gift rather than a burden. "And if I ever marry, I wouldn't mind making my husband's wedding shirt now that I have a say in who he'd be."

Hadand isn't used to the holodeck yet, not the way everyone else is. They've all practically grown up with it, so they think of it naturally. She still has to adjust to it. In time, that will come. Right now, he's just happy to have given her yet another little piece of her home to hold onto.

He nods in response. He had expected her to be armed. After hearing what her life was like and learning more about her, he never would have expected her to go unarmed when she could have them. "I trust you wouldn't throw them at me without due warning," he teases gently, his eyes saying that he doesn't expect her to ever throw them at him unless they're sparring or she's teaching him whatever she wants to teach him, the Odni or something else.

The next one makes him frown just a little, but only because he doesn't like the idea of her dying at all, let alone anytime soon. That would break him. It's hard enough losing a member of their crew. Losing someone he cared for so deeply would destroy a part of him that he would never get back. He would much prefer never even entertaining the idea. Even so... "Is that hymn something else you can teach?" he asks, in what is another clear offer for him to do something for her. She means that much to him.

He'd thought the comments on death would be the hardest to handle. He was wrong. He was very wrong. A knot developed in the pit of his stomach as she mentioned a husband. Even a theoretical one made him nervous, jealous on some degree. Maybe not completely jealous, but he definitely loved her. If she wanted to marry someone else, he would certainly not stand in her way. It would just be a rehash of his feelings for Kathryn and that didn't help his already tumultuous thoughts.

He ducked his head for a second on the pretext of focusing on his food before he managed to smile up at her again. "He would be a lucky man. I can't imagine anyone would turn down your handiwork." He certainly wouldn't.

"Never at you, but I'll teach you to throw them if you like." Maybe even with a little bit of showing off, the kind she hasn't allowed herself at home since she was fifteen and Tanrid goaded her into it, or privately among a few of the other girls in the Queen's Training.

She stills. Learning a fighting style is one thing. Learning something like funeral rites is entirely different. That's something she didn't think she could ask of anyone. "I... you don't speak Marlovan, but then, we have translators. I could teach you." Hadand blinks a few times, absolutely not fighting tears at the thought of what he's willing to do for her, no, and with an effort of will brings a smile to her face. Her tone is light when she speaks again, joking, but she hopes for more than that. She wants Chakotay in her life long term, in any capacity. "Once you learn, I'll hold you to it. If I die of old age a century from now, I expect you there to sing for me." In other words, he'd better live a long life too.

She laughs, only a little more forced than usual, at the comment about her future husband. There won't be one unless Chakotay returns her feelings or Hadand ever manages to fall in love with someone else. She knows her own heart. Hadand never allowed herself to fall for anyone. She does fall hard, and she isn't sure how she'll ever extricate herself from these feelings. "Only sentiment would ever get a man into a shirt I made. It's not likely to be pretty. I hate embroidery, and I've never had the least bit of talent for it."

With a grin and a hint of mischief in her eyes, she admits, "Queen Wisthia insisted we learn, but I only stitched a little while she was watching, and then Kialen finished everything for me once we left her quarters. We always did that. The adults didn't interfere much with us as children, so Evred did a lot of Barend's work, I helped Aldren through his, and Kialen did all my embroidery while I snuck her out of weapons practice."

"I won't be nearly as good as you are," Chakotay responds, though he can't say he wouldn't be looking forward to it. He would enjoy anything she would want to teach him, from throwing knives to singing a funeral hymn.

"I'm a quick study. I'll learn it in Marlovan if you'd like." Really, he will. In a way, learning her language would be fun and he would greatly enjoy the opportunity. After all, a language speaks a great deal to the culture that developed it. Of course she has to make that request, for him to sing her forward. He nods, his smile gentle and his serious. "I will. I can promise you that." If they weren't having such a heartfelt discussion, he would ask her to do the same for him, perhaps even to learn his customs to offer him the same as she was requesting. But he won't. He'll let her have the honor.

"Sentiment is all anyone would need," he says, weighing his words carefully so as not to give away his feelings in case she does not return them. "Outward beauty is a small thing. What matters is the time, energy, and care put into it. I have a feeling you would give everything you have to the task." She seems to be the type to put her all into anything she sets her mind to. Her husband will be a lucky man.

His smile is soft, though there's the touch of sadness to it if she looks hard enough. "I wasn't very good at following directions, either, when I was young. It's good that you had a system to help you through your studies."

"You haven't been training since you were five. I'd be shocked if you were." Hadand waves off any concerns about his skills or lack thereof, picking up a riceball with cabbage and biting into it. It's very close to food from home. She's going to declare her efforts with the replicators a resounding success.

She leans forward, interested. "Would you you? Do the translators turn off? I wouldn't mind learning more languages. I've been speaking Iascan during all our time together, but everything I sing is in Marlovan. There's no written Marlovan language. Outside of our songs and traditions, it's mostly used for war these days, but it also has far greater accuracy when it comes to describing life on the plains. Weather, landscape... there are nineteen verbs for rain, for instance. " She would certainly learn his language too, if he felt like teaching. And she thinks that Chakotay would probably appreciate just how nature-oriented Marlovan is.

"I would," she agrees softly, somewhat regretting introducing the topic of marriage given who she's talking to and her earlier conversation with the Doctor. Because she does want that in her life. She wants a family. Hadand has always been a protective big sister. She's made of maternal instinct, and she wants love and lust and all of it in her romantic relationship. None of those things but children would have been avenues open to her at home, at least not as part of a marriage. No marriage is better than marrying Aldren, or even than marrying Evred, dear though he is to her. She could tell how she'd have ended up feeling about him if she'd stayed, and it could never be anything but unrequited. "I don't have to marry at all unless I want to. Of all the things I regret or miss now that I've left home, the marriage I would have had is not on the list."

Observant enough to catch the hint of sadness there, Hadand doesn't push. All Chakotay has to do is glance at her, though, to see the silent sympathy written across Hadand's face. She may not ask questions, but Hadand will listen to anything he ever wants to share.

Chakotay would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious about that marriage she would have had. They hadn't come to her planet at the best time and hadn't had a chance to really meet anyone aside from Hadand herself. The little they know is what she has told them. The rest of her people are, more or less, a mystery. This marriage is just one more question added to the pile he is curious about but would never push for an answer to.

Instead, he just nods and decides to focus on languages and the other topics. Thinking of her marrying someone else at all sets the same sense of disappointment and jealousy in the pit of his stomach that he often gets around Kathryn. That's how he knows without a doubt. He's fallen for Hadand just as hard and as fast as he fell for Kathryn. There's really no hope for him, is there?

Somehow he manages to keep the smile on his face, despite the thoughts tumbling around in his mind. "I think we can turn it off in the holodeck, if not in our quarters. You make me wish I knew the language of my people. My father tried to teach me, but... I was too stubborn and lost to accept the ways of our tribe until recently." That smile remains as he speaks, but it's tinged with something else, something not quite sorrow. Closer to regret. This is something he's regretted for a long time. "I was lucky to gain my father's blessing when I finally did."

Hadand finds herself grateful for the table between them. If they were on their feet, she doesn't think she could keep from wrapping her arms around him at that. As it is, she reaches out to take whichever of Chakotay's hands hasn't been occupied with eating. She squeezes lightly, thumb running over the back of his hand. It takes her a moment to force herself to let go, but when she does, the movement is smooth. It only feels like she's wrenching her hand away in her own mind.

"If you knew," she tells him softly and sincerely, "I would offer to learn it from you. You may have come late to the ways of your people, but it's obvious just from the little you've told me how highly you value those traditions. I don't think anyone, your father especially, could hold earlier conflict or disagreements against you in light of that."

Hadand never had the option of neglecting traditions. They started their children out young, especially the future queen. She would have had to leave home entirely, and by the time she was old enough to do so, her loyalties and sense of duty were already far too firmly entrenched. Some days it still seems strange, trying to find a new sense of purpose, because her old one defined every aspect of Hadand's life before she came aboard Voyager.

"Languages weren't something I could avoid learning. We have no translators, and every Marlovan is at least bilingual. We have to be, because both languages are used in our daily lives. I speak more than just our native languages, though. I was sending coded messages in Old Sartoran before I reached my teens." Dead languages are the best form of covert communication, because hardly anyone understands them. Even so, the usual codes with plants and animals, and inclusions of appropriate verses of poetry when those did not suffice, were used to mask real meaning.

Chakotay would not protest being hugged by Hadand, but such an embrace would make it very difficult for him to keep his feelings for her at bay. At least with Kathryn, they don't have much physical contact aside from hands on shoulders. They tend to speak more in expressions and body language, a habit he's starting to pick up with Hadand, for better or worse. So when she takes his hand, he returns the squeeze, doing his best not to make it too tight or too lose and likely failing.

"I've seen him... in my recent meditations," he admits softly. "My father's spirit now speaks to me, gives me advice as he never did before. I have accepted the ways of our people and so... I have fully embraced what he once tried to teach me. When I was young, I didn't understand the value of our traditions and our culture. Now I do." And he likes to believe that's what drew his father back to him, what makes it possible for them to talk. Reconciliation is possible and it's something Chakotay holds onto with both hands.

Bowing his head a little, his gaze falls on his medicine bundle, tucked safely away. "I was never able to reconcile our differences before my father was killed and even taking up the fight in his name didn't help. Only until I met the people who had once come to meet my ancestors, the people my tribe calls the Sky Spirits, was I able to fully understand and appreciate our traditions."

He may never quite understand why he's telling her all of this. Maybe it's because he's in love with her, the way he had felt about Kathryn and still does to a point. Or maybe it's because he trusts Hadand fully, knowing that she will not judge him. Nor will she be unkind in her response.

"That's one of the things I had hoped to teach you later, our meditation and the basis for our vision quests." It might go a long way towards strengthening their bond, even if it's just a friendship.

Unfortunately for Chakotay, Hadand has never held back on physical contact with the people she's closest to. She'll keep herself from admitting romantic interest, but she doesn't think she can bring herself to completely refrain from touching him. She notices nothing wrong with the pressure of his hand on hers. It wouldn't matter how tightly or loosely he held her hand. Any reciprocation is enough to make her wish for much more.

"You've seen him?" she asks, wonder in her voice. "Like a ghost, a spirit left behind? But ghosts don't speak. This is something different, something we don't have."

A ghost wouldn't be cause for comfort. People were meant to move on, in Hadand's traditions, and not to stay behind. That's why the singing after death is so important to her. It helps, though it isn't always enough. Hadand's father's first wife's spirit lingered in their castle, though most people couldn't see her. Hadand forbade Joret to ever tell her mother, because it was hard enough living with the figurative ghost of the first Iofre, let alone a real one.

"I'm glad that you've had the opportunity for that relationship, even if you do still wish you'd done it sooner. I'll be honored to learn everything you want to teach me."

Chakotay is fine with the little touches, the hand holding and placing hands on backs and shoulders and arms. Actual hugs make things difficult for him, but he's used to the differences between Kathryn and Seska. With Kathryn, there's a line, a very distinct line, between what is acceptable support and what isn't. He believes the same is true of Hadand right now and so he's held himself back, mostly because he isn't sure where that line is exactly and the last thing he wants is to cross it without knowing.

Instead, he holds back, keeping to what he knows is all right. "It's part of our beliefs, easier to show than to explain. But first we'll have to work on meditation and the vision quest. If you're still willing to learn, we could start after dinner." He had said they would start with her traditions first before moving on to his.

Speaking of dinner, he is really enjoying it. He's been quite happily eating the whole time. She should be proud. The only thing that could make this better would be a nice pot of mushroom soup. This time without the theft.

"I certainly want to learn, and I don't think I can stomach much more now, however nice it was to have something that tasted almost like home. I'll save whatever we don't finish." She smiles warmly at Chakotay. "You're welcome to keep eating, but I think I'll sing now if you don't mind. I... thought I'd start with Hymn to the Beginning, even if we usually only sing it on Firstday each new year. It gives a look at early Marlovan history, though I warn you it's very much in a conqueror's mindset."

Something she's leery of focusing on, knowing Chakotay's people's history. But there's no sense hiding it, and so when he agrees, she begins. There are no drums, though her hands keep a light beat on the edge of the table. That sound and the cadence of her chanting voice are reminiscent of hoofbeats, the history of plains riders echoing the animals they rode. And yes, there is a reference to the Venn in the very first line.

"Maralo Venn of ancient day, riding Hesea Plain
Wide as the wind’s home, free as the eagle.
Led by three warlords wielding the sun:
Montrei-Hauc the mountain-gift,
Montrei-Vayir plains masters,
Montredavan-An, lords of the forests.
Allies and equals, before they were kings."

Not all of the song is about glory and honor, though. Even in this song, some of the political tensions and conflict within Marlovan present-day Marlovan nobility are expressed.

"Riding the ranges, valiant and venturous,
Marlovan war kings defended the holdings
Great Vayir strongholds, from the high throne.
Yet treaties beholden, deeds of famed prowess
Bound Jarls and King at year’s Convocation.
War drums and danger through all four seasons
Brought fire and feud by gold-greed and fame-fire
Burned a hunger never to assuage.
Bones broken like spear-shafts,
Shields piled in towers,
Such was the vision of the Montredavan-An king."

The Montrei-Vayirs, Chakotay probably knows, are Iasca Leror's current ruling family. In this song, he'll hear about their rise to power. A very glorified portrayal of something that really amounted to an assassination, a shifting of power that could have been paralleled now had Hadand not successfully defended the throne. It actually explains a lot about her caution, about how danger-fraught the environment in which she grew up was, about the reason she still feels naked without her knives. But it also speaks to how important her people are to her. Hadand can never forget the facts of Marlovan history because the songs were taught as she learned to speak. The songs still come to her first, even though she learned dates and context for all of them as part of her education.

She stops after the song in a way she wouldn't at home, not moving on immediately to another. At least for tonight she'll give him opportunities to speak, to ask any questions, after each song.

It's almost funny how much the song reminds him of Klingon culture and he reminds himself to warn B'Elanna next time he gets a chance. While she's come a long way in accepting herself and that half of her since she became part of Voyager's crew, she still has a long way to go. Hadand's viewpoint might do her some good, but only on B'Elanna's terms. For now, he pushes that thought to the side, paying more attention to Hadand and her song. While it isn't as peaceful as his own tribe's personal history, he can understand how important her people's history is to her. It's easy to see and to hear. At first, he did keep eating, at least a little and slowly, but then her words and her tone captured him and now he is simply sitting still with his gaze lowered in respect and interest.

When she pauses, he lifts his gaze to her, a small smile gracing his lips. "If I didn't already know how important your people are to you, I would now," he says softly. "Loyalty is very important and so is history. My people tell stories, legends, the way you sing, for learning as well as for history."

She smiles back at him, relieved at the reaction and grateful for his words. But then, there was one other thing in that song, besides the conquest, that she worried about Chakotay's reaction to. "The first line of that song, where the Venn were mentioned... we mistranslated 'marolo' for a long time. Everyone believed it meant 'accursed of the Venn.' It doesn't. There's a reason the Venn consider Iasca Leror their enemy. The correct translation is 'outcasts of.' Every Marlovan is part Venn. We flourished after our long-ago banishment. They let us go for centuries, but I think it's always been a matter of time."

Which may put Voyager in a bad position. Her crew has a right to know, and this is one of the two things she plans on taking to the captain in the morning. "I can pass for Iascan, and maybe even Idayagan. I would appreciate it if ship's records listed me as either of those, under another name if necessary. Not 'Algara-Vayir'; the Marlovan word for 'plains' is in my name, and my younger brother has made us a very unpopular family among the Venn. They might take me as hostage to him if they found out.

"I don't want to endanger the crew as we move into more heavily Venn-patrolled areas. If the Venn find out I'm Marlovan, they'll kill the whole ship. Iascans are sometimes captured, but their ships are safe. No one bothers the Idayagans yet, even now that we've taken Idayago to keep the Venn from using it as a base of attack." Hadand feels bad about waiting this long to tell Chakotay or the captain. She's rectifying it, giving away all her secrets now. Hadand isn't going to keep any of them after tonight.

Well, just one. A new one at that. Hadand won't give voice to anything she feels for Chakotay. She never wants her love to be a burden, and she won't offer it unless he speaks or acts.

Chakotay listens attentively for as long as she speaks, taking in her words and their meaning. Taking Hadand on will be like taking on Neelix and Kes so many years ago and making enemies of the Kazon in the process. He doesn't move until she's finished, taking that moment to reach across the table to rest his hand over hers, a physical companion to the words he's about to offer her.

"We will do anything it takes to keep you safe," he tells her softly but firmly. "You should tell the Captain in the morning, but I know she would say the same."

His gaze turns serious, his eyes more than the rest of his face full of the promise of his words. "We won't let them take you or bring harm to this ship." If it comes down to it, Kathryn will self-destruct the ship. They all know it. But that is something he'll let Hadand find out herself... or in her talk with Kathryn in the morning.

"You are safe here."

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