What was home, really? And what was it for someone like Dayatar who had led a vagrant life? Apart from the palace, there likely wasn’t a place where he had stayed for more than a few weeks. He would arrive, do some work to earn a place for the night and some food and beg if there was nothing to do, maybe chancing upon some alms given out by the temples before he left, not wanting to overstay his welcome.

Was there anything that carried a feeling of belonging for him? A sight, a smell, a sound? Something he would feel drawn to, that would beckon him, envelop him as if welcoming a traveler that finally came home after a long journey?

He wasn’t sure. Maybe the sight of the Ashalaar’s red sand was like that since he had made his way through the lands around it, probably traversing bits and pieces at times.

Maybe it was the scent of the incense that the temples would burn as an offering to Ashakar since he had surely smelled it many times on his travels and the temples might have been a place of refuge more than others he encountered. Maybe he had felt safer there and the incense would remind him of that?

Yashaadu Naj was of half a mind to call for one of the servants to go and light some since they had surely taken some along. Even if they hadn’t, Romallia’s bazaar wasn’t far away and there should be some merchants from Peraad selling incense there. Even if they needed to wait for some time, it would be worth it.

In the end, he kept quiet though. Even if Dayatar had stopped at the temples often and found refuge there sometimes, those had always been different temples, different stations on his journey but it had never been his home. He had always known that after a night or maybe another day he would need to leave again.

There should be no feeling of belonging there, no relief of finally having found a place to just be. No, for Dayatar, such a place did not exist and thus, there was nothing that could remind him of it.

Home, that was a place he might long for but one he had not yet found. The palace could become that place but that needed time. Surely, Dayatar did not see it as such just yet. If he did, he would not insist on following the rules so meticulously. No, if the palace was his home, he would behave as if he was free to do as he wanted.

Yashaadu Naj’s brows faintly furrowed. He had a rough understanding of how Dayatar’s life had been before they had met but he had not asked about too many details, always feeling that it saddened his husband to talk about it. Sometimes, he would wonder but he never pushed too far, letting him keep to himself what he didn’t want to reveal.

His roots though, he had asked about those. He knew about his humble birth and also how he had lost his family. He knew how he had fled and started to live this way. As somebody who had always had a place to return to, he probably hadn’t understood what this meant though. Not really.

Only now that he wanted to evoke a sense of home and belonging in his husband did he realize that Dayatar had lost that as well. That thought … it pained his heart and it ignited it with the wish to be that place for him.

Maybe he had not had such a thing as a home for years and maybe it would need years for the palace to become something akin to it for Dayatar. But he might be able to feel that he belonged at his husband’s side and that was something that he could give him.

Yashaadu Naj tilted his head and kissed Dayatar’s forehead, his lips lingering on his skin while he thought back to what had made him feel at home. He wanted to share it with him, to let him have a part of what he had missed out on, even if it could only be given through another person.

When he pulled back, he hummed faintly, the sound quivering in the air.

Dayatar faintly raised his head, almost unable to believe his ears. Singing, that was something that the children did on the streets, or mothers in the safety of their houses when they wanted to calm down their newborn, or maybe the task of an entertainer that visited the court. But it was never something the Kazahd did.

But even though he could hardly imagine it, it was true. His husband was indeed humming. Dayatar felt anxious when he realized. He thought of the guards outside the door and what they would think when they heard.

He wanted to speak up, to somehow get him to stop but then he turned silent when the note changed, his body freezing up. He listened with rapt attention, staring at his husband’s face unbelieving. But the melody continued, sweeping his worries away, catching all the stray thoughts and guiding them, leading them to a far, far away place that was still so close to his heart.

What his husband was humming was a melody he knew all too well. It was an old lullaby of their homeland. He had heard it thousands of times. When he came to a city and passed by the houses in the evening, it would be blown through the street from a window on the second story. When he slept in one of the alleys at night, it would spill out from a door close by when a mother was trying to put a crying child to sleep. Faintly, darkly, he even remembered how it had once been sung to him.

Dayatar closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Yashaadu Naj’s chest, his fingers grasping onto the fabric. He felt the faint vibration beneath his fingertips and the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curl up faintly.

Even though it might be disreputable for the Kazahd to sing, he was still happy. If, for once, he did not think about what the people of the court might say and just looked at this as a song he received from his own husband, then his heart was swelling with happiness.

Dayatar’s grip around his husband’s robe slackened a little and he inched closer. He stopped his musings and just listened, his heart following the up and down of his husband’s voice, slowly being lulled into the comfort of the familiar melody.

Yashaadu Naj continued to stroke his back, his palm moving from the nape of his neck down to the small of his back, following the curve of his spine and brushing the last bit of tension away. He hummed another couple of deep notes before his lips parted and he gently, reassuringly added the words of the verse: "Sleep tight, Naj-il, sleep wrapped in silk, until Ashakar opens her gate, until the goddess sends down her golden rays, sleep peacefully and undisturbed."

His husband nestled up closer, now indeed lying peacefully in his arms as if the foreign sights of Romallia had never disturbed him and they were still at home, in the familiar rooms in the palace, lying beneath the silken sheets as the last rays of the sun faded outside the window.

Dayatar’s breathing evened out further with each word, making a smile enter Yashaadu Naj’s voice. He continued to sing until his husband drifted off into sleep and even then, he only faintly lowered his voice, not wanting to wake him again but still wanting to accompany him as he dreamed.

"When the morning arrives, when the warm breeze blows, I will wake you at the sun’s first kiss. To love you, to hold you, to caress your skin, Naj-il, my love, you brighten my days. For this night, for this week, for this year, forevermore, I will cherish you."

Thus Ensylfera, the famous storyteller of the capital city, spoke:

"This is the end of the tale of the Kazahd Yashaadu Naj who solved the issue of his court with a visit to one of the esteemed Elders of Romallia’s Arcademy. It is also the end of the tale of his husband Dayatar who followed along on his journey, not knowing what awaited him.

After having achieved their goal, those two stayed in Romallia for two weeks, exploring the city that Dayatar had never set foot in before. When they returned to their kingdom with Elder Aeliann’s letter in hand, the rumors surrounding their relationship finally died down, and henceforth, they lived together in peace.

As for Yashaadu Naj’s wishes for their relationship, they were fulfilled, albeit several years after this journey had been concluded and he had taken Dayatar onto many others. When the day came for the Kazahd to pass on his throne to one of his sons, Dayatar was still at his side, sitting beside him while he announced his decision."