The festivities resumed their course relatively quickly, mainly because Abby didn't make a scene, and her cronies finally got the gist of how deep in shit they actually were. Or perhaps Allen's identity shocked them silly, so much so that their brains stopped working. Whichever the case, they didn't cause an uproar, and Myrven brought them to their quarters for the next few days without issue, leaving the boy to Dangu's care in the meantime.
Of course, there was unrest, but the elders who had been close enough to hear the exchange between Abby and their chief swiftly subdued it, afraid of displeasing Allen. No, Ialleion.
Fear has always been a good motivator to get things done, according to Allen.
But many, who were too far away to listen to the conversation, had no idea of what had just transpired. All they knew was what they had seen a moment earlier, when Allen and his aide somehow stopped a monumental wave from crashing onto the land, and how the chief's mate handled the undead in the meantime, fighting on the rugged terrain of the emptied lagoon.
Now that the danger had passed, and people's hearts had settled back into their chests, excitement welled up in the pit of their stomachs, and unfounded claims swept through the crowd. If left unchecked, they'd swell up into hearsay at one point and centuries later, turn into legends fueling the White Moon tribe's history and folklore.
Not like Nyell cared, however. He turned a deaf ear to the rumors that were spreading throughout the crowd, from the front to the back. He was honestly exhausted, and while Allen was stuck handling the aftermath, he snuck away in search of a peaceful spot once his mate's spiritual energy seemed to have gained a semblance of calm.
It took time, but Nyell ultimately found a hidden haven on the outskirts of the harbor. It was away from the center, too far for the stalls to sprawl up to here, even if they were still visible from his vantage point and the crowd's indistinct chatter still reached his ears.
Seated on a boulder, Nyell rested his eyes as the sea breeze caressed his skin. Things had been hectic, and he needed some time to himself to think and settle his emotions. Allen's words had taken him aback, and he couldn't believe how readily he was to admit that he was, in a nutshell, Ialleion, the first chief of the White Moon tribe. Nyell doubted the foreigners understood what it entailed, believed him, or even knew who Ialleion was. However, they couldn't deny his strength now, nor could they deny Nyell's. They had displayed enough to shut their mouths for a while.
"Is it me," Yohan's mocking voice resounded, "or did you just run away from your sister? Yesterday was from your mate, today is from your sibling. Aren't you supposed to be a mighty warrior? All I see now is a coward."
Of course, Nyell had heard him approaching a long time ago. He couldn't hear Miell's footsteps, but the breeze carried his smell, so he had most likely followed in tow behind Yohan. In reality, Nyell had a hunch that the beastman was the one who wanted to talk but didn't know how to get the conversation started. These two had been in earshot since he had jumped right beside them and heard everything.
"No matter how mighty someone is," Nyell chuckled, opening his eyes to cast a lazy gaze at the two men, who, he had to admit, had become something akin to close friends, thanks to the ordeals they'd experienced together, including the foul-mouthed Yohan, "they will always fear two fundamental things: a nagging sibling and a smiling-but-not-really-smiling spouse."
"Right, Isa did seem angry earlier," Yohan sneered, remembering the teenage girl's sudden fit of fury. "But you seemed to be in the wrong there, though."
Nyell abstained from commenting.
Indeed, he was in the wrong for leaving the tribe without saying goodbye to his people, and it was understandable for his sister to be mad at him. But thankfully, Isa seemed more interested in her fated mate, aka Layla, than in him. It wasn't hard to redirect her attention toward the petite woman, and even less difficult to convince his sister to enjoy the festivities with her fated mate instead of nagging him about how cold-hearted he was.
"There're a lot of things to see, and a lot of things to eat," was all he needed to say.
Considering how easy it was, Nyell had a hunch that Isa wasn't that angry with him. No, she had most likely used him as an excuse to come over to the White Moon tribe, only to see her fated mate and ditch him immediately after giving him a piece of her mind. On that matter, he'd also bet that Corriel saw through her little scheme right away, but let his daughter be, anyway.
'Fated mates, huh?' Nyell snorted to himself, remembering Isa's excitement. He wondered how she would react to the truth behind her deep endearment toward Layla and the lost memories. Not like it mattered, since neither remembered.
"Here you go, making that face again!"
Yohan's exasperated voice snapped Nyell back to the present.
"I'm not making a face. It's my resting bitch face."
"Yeah, sure."
While they bickered, Miell glanced back and forth between them, unsure how to insert himself in the conversation. It was strange, considering how friendly and easy-going he usually was. Nyell had to take it upon himself to include him. It felt odd, as it had been the other way around since they met.
"If you have something to say," Nyell sighed, patting the boulder to invite him to climb up and sit beside him, "just say it."
"Hum," Miell made an awkward smile, apparently embarrassed to be caught red-handed like a child. Still, he took up Nyell's offer and agilely climbed onto the boulder next to him. "I'm pretty sure you already know what's on my mind and what I want to ask."
"It's not exactly hard to guess, but let me try anyway. I bet you want to know whether or not what Allen alluded to is real, don't you?" Nyell cocked an eyebrow, waiting until Miell nodded, followed by Yohan, before continuing in a sigh, "Well, yes. My mate is an old soul, for crying out loud. Oh, but don't worry, I hadn't known for long. Like, he told me yesterday."
"…It makes sense why you were running away, then."
"Dude, do you really think I give a shit about his blood lineage?" Nyell rolled his eyes. "And no, I'm not telling you what else he told me, much less why it's bothering me. It's something lame, anyway."
"Well," Miell cleared his throat, still trying to wrap his mind around the truth of the matter and his existing knowledge about the previous past chiefs of the White Moon tribe, "if you don't want to talk to us about what's bothering you, maybe you should sit and talk with Allen. Ah, sorry, hum Ialleion."
"He'd rather be called Allen," Nyell corrected. "You don't need to walk on your toes around him; he's still the same cunning man with a shit-eating grin."
"…"
"But maybe you're right, I should probably talk to him. It does put a strain on our relationship. It's just not easy to bring it up for me, and probably for him, too."
"It can't be worse than his lineage."
Nyell responded with a half-scoff, half-laugh.
***
"You abandoned me and fled," Allen cocked an eyebrow when Nyell entered the house, but the serious expression quickly faded to reveal a teasing smile. "I think you need a bath."
Nyell clicked his tongue, but he couldn't deny it. He had rolled over in the mud and fought with stinking, half-rotted corpses. The stench had impregnated his clothes, and even though he had abandoned his outer robe outside the house, his inner clothing wasn't all that much better. Even if he was a good fighter, he couldn't avoid dirtying himself when handling a horde of moving carcasses, to which he had to avoid the fangs and claws at all costs.
So, yes, he rolled on the ground a few times.
"…You're coming with me?"
The question seemed to take Allen by surprise, drawing out a discreet smug smile from Nyell. He wondered how long it'd take for his mate to get accustomed to his new straightforward behavior on this matter. Now that he had decided to include him in his life, he wasn't going to avoid him and let things stay stagnant. Little by little, Nyell wanted them to form a relationship, one that wasn't described only by 'they're fated mate' or 'they were born to be together'.
"You know the bathtub will be tight for two grown-up men, right?" Allen said, even though he readily got onto his feet, leaving the couch and walking toward the bathroom. He had already drawn the bathwater earlier, and because of the heating array engraved onto the bottom of the carved bath, the water should still be warm.
It was one of the perks of living in the White Moon tribe, where shamanic trinkets were available everywhere, that Nyell thought he couldn't live without anymore. Bathing in the cold, muddy water of the river was now a thing of the past, and he wouldn't complain about it.
"But there's enough space for us both, right?" Nyell replied with the same taunting tone, already undressing as he made way to the bathroom. The floor had been evenly carved and paved with greyish tiles, which were smooth under Nyell's feet. A little cold, though.
In the middle of the room was a rectangular hollowed space filled with steaming water. A light floral scent floated in the air, letting Nyell know that Allen had added some lavender bath bombs to the water. It was apparently good for the skin, something that sounded like bullshit to him, but he never saw fit to share that opinion with his mate, nor did he point out that the few petals hovering on the water weren't that much interesting in his eyes.
In the end, all that mattered was the warm water and the filtering system that kept it clean. They wouldn't need to change it manually after Nyell entered the bath, despite all the mud and dust clinging to his skin. Still, he needed to rinse his body first if he didn't want to soak in soiled water, even if only for a short moment. So, he roughly wiped out the first layer of dirt in another basin, and while he did so, he pointed out the bath and said to Allen, "You go in first."
Nyell didn't need to repeat himself twice, and Allen quickly slid into the warm water, comfortably seating himself. He watched his mate wash his body before making his way to the bath, too. Nyell pretended not to notice his mate's gaze as he sat between Allen's legs, hunching over as he brought his hair in front and asked, "Can you wash my back? Before I lean on you."
A chuckle was Allen's answer, but he complied, stretching a hand to take a towel and wiping the dust that had managed to seep through Nyell's clothing. There wasn't much, and once it was done, Nyell unceremoniously leaned against Allen's chest.
For a moment, silence shrouded the room, and neither spoke. It was a calm, serene atmosphere that almost lulled Nyell to sleep. But he couldn't fall asleep, not right now.
"You know," he started, staring at the ceiling, "there's something that's been on my mind, and I can't seem to chase it away."
"Hm?" Allen hummed, encouraging him to continue.
"Like, I'm aware that it's stupid and it shouldn't bother me," Nyell grimaced, feeling like he was making up excuses to cushion the blow, "but I've been wondering if you've been seeing your lover in me all this time. I know I sound insecure and petty and—"
"Nyell," Allen interrupted him, kissing the back of his head, "it's alright, and it's ok for you to be bothered by it."
Shutting his mouth shut, Nyell felt like digging his own grave and burying himself six feet under. Allen's caring tone made him feel guilty, somehow.
"I would lie if I said I never compared you two," Allen admitted with a light chuckle. "But at the end of the day, you're your own person. You might share the same soul, yes; however, from the little I remember of my lover, you're diametrically opposed, and the one I find endearing is the you of today, not a ghost of the past."
"…From the little you remember?"
"Dear," Allen responded, and although he tried to hide the sorrow in his voice, Nyell could still feel it deep in his bones, "how long do you think it has been since her death? I, too, forget things over time, and her face had long grown blurry. I remember I loved her, deeply even, but…"
Nyell stiffened, unsure how to feel. A deep feeling of discomfort was swelling in the pit of his stomach. As if aware, his mate passed an arm around his waist and caressed his abdomen with his thumb in a comforting manner, even though he was the one sharing a painful reality.
"Of course, I was taken aback when I met you," Allen chuckled, remembering the little fury that Nyell was at the time, "and I think I undeniably fell in love at first sight, regardless of our bond. The method I used was forceful, I'll admit, but I wanted a chance to get to know you. You wouldn't have accepted to spend time with me otherwise, right?"
It was annoying that he couldn't deny it, so Nyell decided to grunt something for the sake of it, "You fell in love with the guy who tried to punch you in the face at your first meeting? Are you a masochist or what?"
Wait. Didn't he ask that question a while back? Oh, well, whatever.
"Maybe," Allen laughed. "I'm just glad that we got to meet in this life, and that our bond as fated mates made the perfect excuse to tie you to me. I might not have been able to include myself in your life otherwise. You have strong opinions and hated my guts quite a bit back then, and when you don't like something, you don't get out of your way to compromise with it, don't you?"
A snort escaped Nyell. Still, he felt better and nestled more comfortably against Allen. He'd need time to get used to the thought of sharing the same soul as his mate's first lover, but he now knew that whenever he felt bothered by it, they could discuss it. They were both adults and could communicate their thoughts clearly, and that was what they would do from this moment onward, regardless of the discomfort and pain that followed. Some things had to be said and shared to deepen their relationship and stand on equal footing.
Speaking of, there was something else that required Nyell's attention; it had been poking his buttocks for quite a while already, and not addressing the elephant in the room was going against his new resolve. So, he might as well do it right now.