Time: -5 years pre-canon

Age: 21 years old

"Is this everything you imagined?"

A sea of light and dazzling colour greeted Daya as they spun on the spot, anchored by the warm hands that held them. The palace ballroom was even more overwhelming than they'd imagined: glittering masks and fabrics coupled with the murmur of conversation and the smell of richer food than they'd ever tasted in their life.

Asra pulled them back in gently so they were facing, as close as their masks would allow.

"No," Daya said honestly. "It's better. I always wished you'd be the first I'd dance with."

They'd been to the Masquerade once, some three years earlier whn their aunt received an invitation. Now it was they who had the invite, along with Asra. It was hard not to be nervous - all things considered. But they were coping, mostly. The tentative anonymity of their mask helped somewhat.

Asra must have sensed the change in their mood, for he squeezed their hand. "What's wrong, Daya?"

"I'm worried," Daya confessed as they spun slowly. "My aunt was invited to the Masquerade a few years ago, and then...well, you know what happened. Do you think…?"

"Nothing's going to happen to you." Asra cupped their cheek, his fingers edging their mask up. "You know I wouldn't allow that."

"You can't save me from everything," they replied, then sighed as he frowned. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be morose."

"I love you," he breathed against their cheek. "Even when you're morose."

The song ended with a flourish and applause erupted around the dance floor. Asra raised their hand to his lips and peppered their knuckles with kisses, smiling slyly.

"Good evening, Vesuvia!"

The lips on their hand paused. Daya saw Asra's eyes flick to the grand staircase, where a figure in white descended. They caught sight of slicked blonde hair, cold blue eyes and a flash of gold before recognition sent adrenaline surging through their body.

They moved without even thinking, Asra's hand tearing from their grip.

A rustle of fabric. Indignant sounds as they pushed past the guests. Hurried footsteps; hers and others clacking on polished stone. Daya's senses registered the sounds as they happened, but their body moved of their own accord, overwhelmed by the need to run.

They burst out into the hallway. Empty, echoing, bright. Too bright, too open, too loud-

"Daya-"

Asra's voice behind her, with a note of alarm. Daya hit the wall and slid down, head in hands. Their breath came out in sobs.

"Daya. Daya."

Asra dropped to his knees before her, careless of his coat-tails crumpling, and wrapped them in a hug.

"It's okay," he said in their ear. "Just breathe, slow and deep."

Gradually Daya's breathing slowed...then quietened. Eventually they sat back, wiping their tears with the heel of their hand.

"Are you okay?" Asra asked; he looked frantic, grasping their forearms tightly. "I've never seen you panic like that. What happened?"

"I'm-I'm fine," Daya choked. "I'm okay. I just heard his voice and it..."

They trailed off wordlessly, chest tightening, and Asra pressed his hand against their breastbone.

"Shh," he said, low and soothing. "You don't need to talk about it. I understand. Do you want to go home?"

"No."

Daya shook their head vehemently, and began to stand. Asra steadied them with his hands on their shoulders.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure." They would have rather confronted a hundred Lucios than make Asra miss the Masquerade on their account, but he didn't need to hear that. "I'm just dizzy. I need some air."

"If you're sure," Asra said, doubtfully. "We can go out to the veranda."

Daya clung to his arm as he guided them down the hallway. The gleaming stone made their eyes hurt, but the more they squinted the less painful it became. They didn't think to ask how Asra knew where he was going, but he seemed to be comfortable leading them through the endless hallways.

After a few minutes he guided them out through a pair of double doors onto a veranda, decorated festively for the party. It was mercifully empty of guests and all but a single servant standing at the door.

Daya leaned against the balcony, pulled off their mask and breathed deeply, letting the air dry the tears on their face. They let their shoulders slump and their head droop as the tension began to flow out of them.

"Better?" Asra murmured.

"Mmm." Daya lifted their head and gave them a watery smile. "You should go back to the party, beloved. I'm making you miss out on the bubble room."

"Daya," he said admonishingly. "You don't expect me to try the bubble room on my own, do you? It wouldn't be half as fun without you."

They laughed. Asra drew closer, nuzzling their cheek affectionately.

"I didn't think so," he whispered, and kissed her ear. Daya leaned their head against his shoulder, welcoming the warmth of his arm around them, and they stood quietly together for a few minutes, until Daya's breathing slowed and deepened. Eventually they sighed and lifted their head, pulling back so they could see Asra's face.

"My timing is probably awful," they began, "but seeing we're alone...I did have something to discuss with you."

"Oh?"

"Um. So, we've been together for a while, and I've been happier than I have been in a long time..."

"So have I," he said, his smile soft.

Daya took a deep breath. "Well, I-I would really like it if you came to live with me at the shop. I have it worked out," they added, as Asra's eyes widened. "You can read your cards from the back room, and you can set up your own sleeping space, if you'd rather not share the bed."

His eyes were glittering, they realised, and he had a strange expression on his face.

"I know you're already living with Muriel, but…"

Daya paused as a brilliant smile spread over Asra's face. He pressed forward, taking their face in his hands, and kissed them-once, twice, three times, even as they laughed against his lips.

"Yes! Yes, of course I will. I was hoping you'd ask-"

Asra spun them, prompting a fit of giggles, and then they pressed together-noses touching and arms wrapped around each other, breathing each other in.

"I love you," Daya whispered, kissing his nose. "I love you so much. And look, you've chased away my anxiety."

A delicate cough from behind cut through Asra's soft laugh, making them both jump. They turned, separating, and blinked at the entrance to the veranda. A woman stood silhouetted against the lantern light.

Asra dropped to one knee. "Countess."

Caught between surprise and anxiety, Daya gave an awkward bow. They recognised the woman now, though they'd only seen her in glimpses-including the night she had arrived in town five years before.

The Countess moved towards them. She had a mask of black and gold in her hands, which she toyed with idly. Her red eyes swept over the two magicians. When she spoke her voice was smooth and heavy with her Prakran accent.

"I see I am not the only one who does not enjoy the Count's speeches."

Asra rose, adjusting his gloves.

"It's my fault, Countess," Daya said, before he could speak. "I was feeling unwell, and needed some air."

A smile pulled at the Countess's lips. "Peace, Dayana Firestone. I don't fault you for excusing yourself."

"How did you-"

"Know your name?" She moved closer, to a small table Daya had missed in their haste to get onto the veranda, and beckoned them to sit. "Did I not extend an invitation to you and your companion? I don't believe we've been introduced."

Asra smiled, adjusting his coat-tails.

"My name is Asra, Countess," he said, in the voice Daya knew he used to reserve for their aunt. "I'm delighted to meet you."

"Likewise. My name is Nadia; I assume you know my title already. Please, sit."

A servant appeared at the Countess's elbow with a bottle and three glasses. As they sat, she poured a glass for each of them before serving herself.

"Are you enjoying the Masquerade?" she asked, and took a sip of her wine.

"Very much so, Countess," Asra said, and Daya suddenly envied him for the ease he had in slipping into proper etiquette. "You and the Count have outdone yourself. Is the bubble room new?"

"An old favourite, actually. In recent years I have convinced Lucio to make some changes to the entertainment on offer." Countess Nadia smiled. "But I did not invite you to hear small talk. I invited you to enjoy the festivities of the Masquerade...and in return I ask that you read my fortune."

The request took Daya by surprise.

"Oh. You want me to read the cards for you?"

"Yes, if you would."

"Well, I suppose I…oh, I'm afraid I don't have my deck."

Asra reached into his pocket and produced a black silk pouch.

"Here you are, my love," he said, and handed it over. "I thought we may need them."

Daya glanced quizzically at him, but he said nothing else-only gave them a smile full of pride.

"Excellent," the Countess said, and sat back in her chair. "What would you have me do?"

There was no refusing, it seemed.

"Nothing, Countess, unless you have a specific question to ask."

Daya cut and shuffled the cards as they had done a hundred times. Nervousness radiated from them in waves; they knew Asra sensed it, for he gave them a reassuring smile. They closed their eyes and took a deep breath. The cards wouldn't speak if they weren't calm, and that would be worse than losing their nerve in front of the Countess.

"Past, present and future," they said aloud. "An insight reading, if that's agreeable to you."

"By all means," Countess Nadia replied smoothly, and tapped her lips with an elegant finger. "Please."

Asra shuffled his chair a little closer to them, until his hand could pat Daya's knee under the table. They laid out three cards, put the deck aside and flipped the first.

"The High Priestess."

Countess Nadia's brows rose.

"An enigmatic card, one that could indicate a guide or patron that you call upon to develop your intuition. To me, it suggests magic is not unknown to you."

They glanced up, but the Countess only looked down at the card. Her eyelashes were so long they obscured her eyes, and she gave nothing else away in her expression.

"How intriguing," was all she said.

Daya flipped the second card. "The Devil."

Another expression passed over the Countess's face, equally inscrutable.

"Bondage," Daya said, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. "Entrapment and emptiness."

The Countess locked eyes with them. Her gaze held a keen interest-but also a challenge. Daya felt a bead of sweat roll down the back of their neck, but underneath the anxiety was a sense of defiance. She had wanted a reading, hadn't she? And if Daya were to pay for their words…

But the Countess did not seem like her husband, and that thought gave Daya the courage they needed to speak.

"Perhaps," they continued quietly, steadily, "an unhappy marriage."

The silence that followed was almost painful. Countess Nadia took a sip of wine, her eyes locked on Daya's. But far from being angry, she seemed satisfied.

Sighing, Daya flipped the third card. "Death."

The Countess's eyebrows raised. "Death?"

"Don't be alarmed, Countess," Asra said, and squeezed Daya's knee. "Death is a card of transformation. Its appearance can mean an ending, but also a new beginning. It's not to be feared."

"I see." Countess Nadia looked thoughtful, her fingers tapping on her wine glass. "What advice can the cards offer me?"

"To allow yourself to be guided more by your feelings," Daya replied, and gathered up the deck. "Embrace change, even if it seems frightening."

She laughed softly. "Do I seem easily frightened to you, magician?"

"No. But everyone fears something, and each in their own way. Fearing change is normal, but if you have people you can rely on, the burden is less troublesome." Daya exchanged a smile with Asra and lifted his hand to their lips.

Another swift, searching look from Countess Nadia. Then she smiled.

"Thank you, Dayana," she said, "and thank you for your honesty. It is refreshing to have the cards read by a true master, not the frauds that litter the marketplace." She stood, and Asra and Daya followed suit. "If you will excuse me, I must return to the ballroom...if only to temper my husband. Feel free to enjoy all the palace has to offer this night."

With a swish of rich fabric, she was gone, and Daya sagged in their chair.

"D-did that just happen?" they wheezed, clutching their chest. "The Countess asked me-to read her fortune and I-"

"You were magnificent, of course," Asra said, laughing, and put the cards back in his pocket. "I knew you would be."

"Did you know she invited me to-"

Asra's mischievous grin said it all.

"-ohhh. You." Daya pointed an accusing finger, and Asra began to laugh. "YOU. You picked up the invitations. You-you knew this was-Asra Alnazar!"

Asra collapsed against their shoulder in a fit of giggles.

"Your face-" he choked out, and Daya grabbed him by the chin and kissed him.

"I hate you," they said, when they separated.

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't. Well, maybe just a little." They held him by the chin and looked at him fondly, their heart full to bursting. "What am I going to do with you?"

Asra pretended to think as Daya drew him up, adjusting his collar and sleeves.

"Well, we could go home and…" he leaned forward to whisper in their ear. Daya blushed violently, muffling their laughter against his shoulder.

"How about a compromise?" they said, when they could speak again. "First we try the bubble room, then we go home and-do that."

Asra brought their hand to his lips, his eyes dancing. "Deal."