Author's Note: People have been so, so sweet about this fic. I get such lovely long reviews and comments, and I want to thank you all so much for that. They brighten my day more than you could know. But it also makes me very anxious each time I post a new chapter because I started this fic intending to be very casual with it, and now there are a lot of people I don't want to let down because they've been enjoying it. But the chapter ideas and plots aren't things I ever really took seriously and only wrote down because they tickled my fancy or were self-indulgent. (I'm really self-indulgent with this fic, haha.) So I'm really sorry if the quality isn't up to par.

Chapter Ten: Words

The reigning Feroxi Khan made his first visit when Emmeryn was sixteen.

He was the tallest man she'd ever met, with dark skin and a thick mane of hair. While his face was clear, despite the lines of advanced middle age, his shirt had been cut to expose as much of his heavily scarred chest as possible, like he bore the raised lines as jewellery. He ignored Emmeryn entirely and greeted her advisors instead.

"She is only a figurehead, isn't she?" he asked when they pointed out his lack of manners. "Shouldn't I pay my respects to the true lawmakers, first?"

"Exalt Emmeryn has a hand in making all of our laws."

He clasped her arm then, but seemed amused.

They threw a banquet for him that night—not in the great hall but in the dining hall, a room much smaller and fancier and more intimate. The butlers were barely able to arrange enough tables and chairs to fit the Khan's entire retinue, fierce-looking men and women who included his guards and advisors and champions and close friends, but it was finally managed, because her own Ylissean retinue wanted to demonstrate the finery. The linen tablecloths, the imported Chon'sin crockery, the pure silver spoons: all proof that Ylisse was recovering from the war. A guest of Ylisse would want for nothing, and peace would be ensured. At least, Emmeryn hoped it would be so.

Before the food was served, most people milled about the parlour, a room draped with tapestries and carpets in rich colours like wine and deep brown. Emmeryn hoped for mingling, but most Ylisseans stayed with Ylisseans, and the reverse.

As she tried to push her way into groups of Feroxi and clasp their arms, as was their custom, she was usually laughed at. This happened thrice before a woman in furs grabbed her hand back and instructed,

"Your grip is too light. You must do it very firmly, or you will seem weak."

Emmeryn could only blink back at her. "But there is nothing weak about gentleness."

Once again, she was laughed at. She excused herself with a smile, but once she was in the privy she didn't have to use, she simply leaned against the door and worried her lip between her teeth. Had she just committed her first political faux pas? Had she offended one of her guests with her words? It seemed so.

Still, what she had said was something she believed in her core. Gentleness was a great strength. True peace could only occur once everyone learned to turn the other cheek, to treat each other with tenderness, to show their weaknesses alongside their strengths so that all could work together. Could she back down from that? And if she didn't and it meant being unyielding toward another culture—another culture of Naga's people, whom She loved just as surely as she loved Her Ylisseans—Emmeryn must surely be doing something wrong, mustn't she?

She took a deep breath and left with new resolve, only to find herself facing the Khan himself, talking about her in her absence to a gaggle of friends:

"And what sort of a name is Emmeryn? It feels like it might knock over if you merely whispered it. What were her parents thinking? Didn't they want to give her a good, strong name? Didn't they want anyone to take her seriously?"

"Well, you know Ylissean women. They're all raised to be—"

Emmeryn had never heard the word that followed. It didn't sound like something pleasant. It also wasn't pleasant how the Khan threw back his head and laughed at it.

But she heard the word several times over the next hour as she continued trying to join conversations, and not always about her, either. She heard several new words, in fact, some of which elicited giggles and some of which made the women swat the men or vice-versa. It occurred to Emmeryn, then, that this was the first time she had ever been in such mixed company. The Feroxi government had no real nobility, and its classes reflected that. The Khan's retinue came from all over: the extremely large middle class, children of rich parents, street urchins who had joined the army and made a good life for themselves. She had much to learn, and was suddenly embarrassed to be so sheltered. To think, there was an entire language her people were speaking, outside of her castle and her court, and she couldn't understand it.

By the time everyone was ushered into the dining room, Emmeryn was in a foul mood. She felt as self-conscious as her first day on the throne again. And though she resolved to talk as much as possible to the Khan seated on her right, to maybe spark a friendship, he hardly paid her any attention. If he had business to speak of, he spoke to her advisors—most of whom were men—and more often than business, he just wanted to discuss that barbaric Feroxi tradition of fighting for the throne, and the rival giving him a run for it. Emmeryn heard the name "Basilio" so many times she was sure she'd never forget it, and by the main course she was privately rooting for him, whoever he was.

She finally lost her patience when the Khan asked her military advisor a question about the economy. It made so little sense that she put her fork down.

"I can answer that for you, instead." she said. Snark escaped, Naga forgive her: "I happen to know my own country very well."

He lifted an eyebrow. "You speak very well for someone so young."

"I am not a toddler. I am sixteen."

She expected him to become appropriately contrite. Instead, most everyone at the table laughed. Even some of her advisors.

"And Ylisse does have our pity and our support for it," he said. "A child ruler is not an easy thing, even if she's pretty. The Feroxi can outdo this folly with our championships."

She refused to be goaded. He was pushing her, she knew, searching for weakness. Perhaps even searching for a foothold in Ylisse. "Please allow me to answer your question about our economy."

"So you want a job to do, is that it? Instead of quietly eating dinner as a child should? I could find you a job."

There was something very odd in his smirk. The two Feroxi on his right, the only ones close enough to hear, howled with laughter. She looked to the military advisor on her left, confused. His lips were a thin line and his eyebrows drew together, but whatever he was thinking, he did not speak aloud. Something in his gaze was enough to quiet their guests.

"You can't possibly be insulted," the Khan said to him. "She didn't even understand. No harm done. Now answer my question, or point me to someone who can."

The economic advisor finally spoke up. Emmeryn returned to her plate, cheeks burning. She did not often blush and the sensation was more painful than she remembered. What had just happened? Why did she feel so foolish?

It was not good or holy to stand up and shout or make a scene. She would be remembered for those outbursts, seen as all the more childish for them. Instead she had to keep calm. She had to learn. She tuned out the conversation and tried to decide who her teacher should be.

Not any of the advisors. If they were not willing to bring the Khan's meaning to light, it was probably something too dirty to talk about, and they would be too embarrassed to explain it properly. Besides, it was now clear that some of them agreed with him about her youth and inexperience. She supposed she couldn't blame them. Ending a war was one thing she had done successfully, but stabilizing Ylisse's battle-wrecked economy was something much more difficult and something she still had not managed to fully accomplish.

Phila was the clear best choice, but Emmeryn wondered if she would even know all the words she'd heard that night, many of which seemed very distinctly masculine. She was a solider, yes, clever and tough, but she commanded an all-woman unit. Her lexicon of slang and swears was almost assuredly different. But most of all, if Phila asked where Emmeryn had suddenly learned all these things, she could not lie about it. Not to such a dear friend. And Phila would be wroth. The captain of the pegasus brigade would not allow such a thing to go unpunished, she was sure, and she didn't want to cause a scene.

That left Frederick. He fought with a mixed company, slept in a mixed barrack. Knights were a peculiar caste, comprised of everyone from well-bred second sons of noblemen to uneducated country folk who dreamt of status and victory. If they could fight well and obey the laws of chivalry, they were accepted. And while Frederick might get as upset as Phila, he did not have a high enough rank to get involved. He would be the ideal person to ask...that is, if he weren't so innocent and bashful.

But then, Emmeryn thought, biting back a smile as dessert came, maybe that was the bright side. If the lesson had to be painful and the conversation had to be awkward, could it not also be entertaining?

xXx

The day was bright but unseasonably cold, even for winter. Frederick doubted Emmeryn was comfortable, being so thin, so he took it upon himself to bring hot tea up, mid-morning. Since she was entertaining guests for the week and they would be allowed to sleep long, she was probably up and with nothing to do.

She looked especially pleased to see him, that day. She was curled up in an armchair close to the hearth. Though her hair was neatly brushed and set, she hadn't dressed yet, obviously opting to stay in her warm robe as long as possible, and Frederick wondered what she was wearing underneath it. He also wondered if that was a scandalous thought to have, if he hoped the answer was "a great deal." He didn't want her to be cold.

"We're friends, aren't we?" she asked. He handed her the cup in response, making sure she'd tugged her sleeves down to cover her palms so she didn't scald herself. "I mean, very good friends?"

"I would be honoured if Your Grace merely entertained the thought of it, let alone deemed it so."

"The sort of friends who can tell each other anything?"

He paused, but only because her question deserved his full consideration. "Yes, I believe so."

In her light, soft voice, she said a word so foul that it wiped Frederick's mind blank. He knew knights who would challenge duels over it. For a moment he could only stand there.

"Can you tell me what that means, Frederick? It's important."

"Exalt Emmeryn, where did you hear such a thing?"

"I asked first. Do you know what it means?"

"I am ashamed that you'd think I might."

"Is that a yes or a no? You've lived and trained amongst so many sorts, so I'm sure you've picked up quite a bit."

She looked as detached as always, but Frederick heard the excitement in her voice. Carefully, he admitted,

"I do know."

"Will you please explain it to me?"

"My lady, it's crass."

"I assumed so. I still wish to know. What if I were called such a thing?"

"That shall never come to pass," he said immediately. She only lifted an amused eyebrow.

"No ruler has the complete approval of every single civilian. I am sure it has already been said. And I will not permit you to plead ignorance for the sake of my feelings. So please tell me. Must I ask again?"

Frederick hesitated. He'd never even said the word aloud. It was an insult specifically for a woman, all blunt vowels and harsh consonants. It felt disrespectful simply to lean over and whisper the meaning into her ear, especially once he saw her eyes widen, but she did not seem offended.

"That does explain a lot. I had never thought of us that way."

"And you should never," he insisted, ears burning. "Your Grace, I must ask again where you heard such a thing."

"It has come to my attention that I keep and always have kept a very specific company, and they speak a certain way. But it's not the way all my people speak, and the low born are no less important than the rest of us. So I should learn to speak comfortably with them, should I not?"

Frederick didn't have an answer for her.

"Would you like to take a seat?"

That meant she had more questions. He nodded and mentally girded himself as he did the physical opposite with his sword belt, knowing it was rude to keep the weapon on his hip if his visit had turned friendly.

"So what is a job?" she asked.

His hand slipped and the belt-sword, sheath, and all-clattered to the floor.

"Work to do," he answered smoothly.

"Frederick."

"Gods, Emmeryn, why do you want to know?"

"One can never know too much. I am a grown woman and I must not remain as naïve as I was in my girlhood."

He hesitated again. "It's when...well, if one were to..."

He couldn't do it. It was too inappropriate. She was the Exalt and he was her retainer and there was no need for any of this unless it involved ten years and her future noble husband. But now she was looking at him and it sparked that odd tugging in his stomach, and it tugged him right down to cup his hands around her ear and mumble the explanation she'd asked for. He was bright red when he finished, his own ears burning, but she was as pale as ever.

"See?" she asked him. "That is useful. I doubt that is something I could ever learn on my own, just from context in a conversation. Phila has told me that I am never to get on my knees before anyone."

"Lovely weather we're having, out this window." He scrambled to it, behind the back of her chair and out of sight, and gripped the cold sill tightly. It didn't make him any safer.

"And kissing like the Valmese?" she asked. He leaned his head back and resigned himself to the trial ahead.

"Using the tongue."

"Lovemaking like the Feroxi?"

"Three in the same bed."

"The number before seventy?"

There was something too silvery to her voice. It made him raise an eyebrow.

"You're enjoying this," he accused.

"It is entertaining to break down your defenses. Normally it is ever so difficult." Her head peeked out from around the back of her chair, smiling a little. "You won't be cross with me, will you, Frederick?"

"Never. But why me?" Emmeryn seemed to be done flustering him for the moment, so he slowly crossed to the chair facing hers and sank onto the edge of its seat. "This does not seem like the sort of conversation a man and a woman should be sharing so casually."

"Why not?"

"It's improper. Thoughts may go astray."

"Have they?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what is the problem? Besides, what if I only had such thoughts about other women, or you only had them about other men? Or what if we had a very strong friendship—the sort where we could tell each other anything?" Her green eyes were fixed on him now, the echo of her first words very clear. "What if I asked you because I feel safe with you? Are you telling me we must not trust each other because of the shapes our bodies took when we were born?"

Frederick didn't have an answer for that, at least not one outside a general cloud of unease and an extreme thrill of warmth up his sternum, neither of which were a logical argument. He pressed his lips together and changed tracks: "Are you aware, milady, that you have a habit of dodging questions by asking new questions back?"

"It's a very old philosophical method. Only by asking questions may we obtain the truth." She took a sip of tea and her smile over the rim of her cup was pleased with herself. She looked very comfortable curled in her chair, and whatever secrets she had, she obviously wasn't giving them up. It made Frederick realize how he was perched, with his spine ramrod straight. He forced himself to shift, letting his back rest against the back of the chair, crossing his right knee over his left ankle, taking up space.

"You think yourself very clever," he said with the slightest smirk, but his words made hers fade off her face.

"Not yet," she sighed. "Not quite yet."

xXx

The next dinner was a little easier, at first.

The Khan was a little more tactful, after offending her military advisor the night before, and kept away from both crude jokes and business until coffee and brandy were served after dinner. All but his and her inner circles were gone by then, and the rest relocated to a more intimate parlour, to which the dining room was practically an antechamber.

"I hope you will address your questions to me tonight," Emmeryn said to him, as demurely as possible. She'd set the room so their chairs faced each other, to make that easier. He just raised an eyebrow at her.

"And I thought I made my feelings on the subject clear last night."

"Last night you disrespected me in front of a room full of people."

"You need to understand. A woman can do whatever she likes. A girl should watch, learn, and keep quiet."

"Then a girl also should not be the subject of lewd jokes."

"Ylisseans." The Khan leaned forward and pointed to her like she was something particularly interesting to show off to his friends. "Many Feroxi worship Naga as you do, but they knew better. Those things are natural. Those are things you have to do if you want children, and children are a good thing. But for some reason, because of Naga, in your country one isn't supposed to discuss any of it. It's kept away from children for being obscene, even though it's where they came from. You'll have to learn sometime. Such a joke is a knee-jerk reaction for a Feroxi."

Emmeryn thought of her knight, rigid in his chair—This does not seem like the sort of conversation a man and a woman should be sharing so casually—and pursed her lips. Perhaps the Khan had a point.

"I don't think that's a good enough excuse," she said, "although I'd like to devote more time to considering your sentiment. I do not demand your respect, for I've done nothing on a personal level to deserve it. But I had hoped that you would not come into my home, eat my food, and then insult me. I can not help my age or my inexperience. I can only do my best."

He was watching her now. She met his eyes.

"I want a continued alliance between our nations. If there is something I must learn to successfully ensure that, then please teach it to me. I will not be a girl forever. If you can stop treating me like one, I will learn faster."

He was amused. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands over his stomach. "I think it's easier my way. Why should I give you a treatment you don't deserve?"

"All right," Emmeryn said lightly. "I understand. I suppose that even asking shows my childish foolishness. I am a very, very foolish child, as you know. I might do something fanciful."

"Fanciful."

"Like take our recovered treasury and start funding the cause of this charming young Basilio you speak of so often."

He clenched his jaw but smiled again. "You can't affect a Feroxi campaign with money. It's all bravery and character and skill in battle. If you're a good enough candidate, you can make an army of the people who support you. If you offered him gold, he wouldn't accept it."

"No. But I have all these soldiers on the Plegian border, you see, that are still making the Plegians nervous, and I'd like to pull them out. But where should I send them? They have to earn their bread somehow. Maybe Basilio would know. They might like to support him, especially if I do."

"Another country should not interfere with our affairs."

"And an older ruler would know that. But I am a very naïve little Exalt. And if I should do something without understanding, for a man who has his sights set on becoming Khan and would thus have to meet with me someday...well, would he say no to such a gesture of goodwill?"

It was all a gambit, of course. To interfere would be grounds for the Feroxi to start a war, or at least violently dispatch her soldiers. It went against her belief of nonaggression, and while Ylisse did have a little money now to spend on spies or other interferences, she intended to use it to help some of the widows and orphans the war had left. But she didn't think Regna Ferox had the money for a conflict, just now, just as Ylisse didn't, and she was banking on it.

"Hah," was all the Khan said, and drained the brandy at his chairside table with one tip of the glass.

The night did not grow any more pleasant, but Emmeryn was not ignored or belittled this time. She would consider it a small victory.

Small but exhausting. Was a threat still in line with nonaggression? Had it been a wise thing to do? Was it overdramatic? Under-authoritative? She filled her mouth with coffee to keep it shut for the rest of the meeting.

xXx

Frederick was the one posted outside her door when she returned. She wondered if she smelled too strongly of coffee. She'd ended up drinking a lot and would be up a long while.

"Did something happen, Your Grace? You look," he paused. "Not quite yourself."

"You told me I could ask anything of you. Did you mean anything?"

"But of course," he said, though he looked puzzled. "What is it?"

She wanted to be held. By whom, it didn't matter. If it were Phila at the door, she would have asked Phila. She wanted someone to just climb into bed beside her and let her bury her face in their chest for a while. She wanted to sync her breath and her heartbeat to someone else's, to feel reassured and protected again. It had been so long since she could take a break from relying on herself. From Ylisse relying on her. All those people, with dreams and families and troubles.

She could ask Frederick. But the longer she looked at him, the worse an idea it sounded. Her friends were some of those Ylisseans. She couldn't go back to childish habits. She couldn't look weak. Not in front of her opponents, but especially not in front of her dear ones. They needed her just as much as the people out in the city below. Perhaps even more, as they were in the vulnerable position of catching a glimpse of their leader being vulnerable. She could do it. She shouldn't make them uneasy.

"It's nothing," she said. "I was only wondering. Goodnight, Frederick."

"Goodnight, Your Grace."

The room was very dark when she shut the door behind herself.

Author's Note: Sooo yeah basically I just really wanted to write a naïve Emmeryn getting her Bad Words education from the guy least equipped to explain it and handling it way better than him because he's easily flustered and she's NEVER flustered. Also some of this is me processing that I live in a country where sexual jokes are waaaay more socially acceptable than my home country, even when minors are involved. Also also a reader had told me Emmeryn standing up against a politician not taking her seriously would add a lot to the story, and I think he was right, so here we go. I might revisit the topic later. That's why all this turned out to be slapdash nonsense, but I haven't posted in a long while and I think this is as good as it might get for now.

Anyway, Young Upstart Basilio 2k15. Just gets comfortable as Khan and then BAM, Young Upstart Flavia 2k16.