[Can’t Opt Out]

Had the next person in line to become the hai’za of Seer’ik’tine not been a complete imbecile, Lan’za thought it quite likely that her mother would have killed her. As it was, the woman was furious, her bare feet slapping against the cool stone of the Seer’ik’tine parliament as Lan’za chased after her, her own steps light as though, if only she were quiet enough, her mother might forget she was there.

She wouldn’t. Zitra’za Yu might have been born and bred to become hai’za—to lead their nation as it further cemented itself as the continent’s diplomatic heart—her identity as their mother falling away under the reality that she had more important obligations, but their mother never forgot about her children, especially not the few that she actually liked—the few who were powerful, or to whom power would one day fall.

Lan’za was like that—a child who would grow to be powerful. One day, she would be just as her mother had been in her youth: the future leader of their nation, letting men fuck and impregnate her in ritual after ritual. Of her mother’s seven children, none of them knew their fathers—although, a few of them could guess based on their appearances or abilities.

Technically, men with irregular deviations were disqualified from taking part in the rituals that, depending on the timing, created their future or current leader’s children. Their nation didn’t partake in the sort of extensive D-Level testing that most of the continent favoured, however; instead, theirs was a number and little else. No break down of Categories or irregular deviations or even potential health concerns. So, unless something was rather obvious, those with irregular deviations could slip through and create children who could inherently have a value of familial connection from the moment they were born. As most of the continent assumed irregular deviations must always be obvious, no one had seen much of an issue with not testing those allowed to partake in these rituals, assuming such things would be easy to spot, and thus, no issues would arise.

The fourth of Lan’za’s siblings—she herself was the second—had eventually revealed themself to be a hereditary Dyad. Officially, no one could say what sort of Dyadism they had—again, such things weren’t tested for within Seer’ik’tine. Of course, Emilia had swiped some of their DNA when they’d been younger, sneaking it to her childhood doctor who seemed some odd mixture of a stickler for the rules and someone who only followed rules that he thought reasonable.

An ECB Dyad—a Dyad with Excess Connection and Balance Categories. It was an odd combination, Lan’za had learned—odd and rare enough that finding a way to adapt the world to her younger sibling’s constantly fluctuating moods was difficult. Their Connection to the aether made everything so much, and at the same time, their Excess Balance Levels allowed them to handle far more than most people.

“From what we’ve found, there are two ways ECB Dyads exist in the world,” Emilia had told her and Meerik’za, that first time she had returned to Seer’ik’tine after stealing away with their sibling’s genetic code, none of them wanting to risk sending such information through their xpherns. “In Type 1s, they are capable of making use of their Connection and Balance together, finding a way to take in all of the world and use it. They can be powerful and enduring. Quite a few have made a name for themselves during war, as they can analyze more of the battlefield than most without becoming overwhelmed.”

That description didn’t match their sibling at all, Furki’za shifting between being perfectly calm as they examined every aspect of their environment and breaking down in sobs, what few words they had abandoning them, even their ability to sign falling away as they broke apart. They had to be restrained often, lest they decide to rip out their hair or scratch their skin bloody because everything was so much and they hated it, hated it, hated it, the only signs and words they could drag out of themself ones of hatred.

“And the other type?” Meerik’za had eventually asked, the silence having stretched taut between them until Lan’za felt as though she may shatter and break and scream into the void of the universe.

“It’s a rare variety of Dyadism, so the exact reason is unclear, but there seems to be some interaction between an ECB’s Balance Levels and another Category or two. Something in another part of a Type 2 ECB Dyad’s genetics causes their Balance Levels to collapse at a certain point. The Dyad wants to be obsessed with the world and engage with their Connection Category. In a Type 1, that’s fine. They can take in all they want, and their Balance Levels will keep it from becoming too much. For a Type 2… my guess, just based on Furki’za’s genetics—which yeah, I know, I probably shouldn’t have been allowed to see, but we’re already violating a few international treaties, so whatever—is that their Load Levels are too low. Their brain can’t take the strain of their Balance Levels, so everything collapses, and then, without their Balance Levels there, their Connection to the aether suddenly becomes too much.”

“Simeon spent a lot of time when we were young learning how to ignore some of the information he was getting from his Connection, but it was always so much for him. With his Censor, we use functions to filter a lot of the information, but without it? I don’t know how much he’d be able to filter through alternative means and force of will, and if he was already overwhelmed? To have to start filtering out that information when he’s already hit overwhelm?” Emilia had trailed off, not needing to tell them more—not needing to explicitly say that she had no idea how they were supposed to help Furki’za when they were barely verbal or inclined to sign on a good day.

How does one tell a child who loves examining the world that they need to pull back before it becomes too much when all communication with them is a challenge? When just pulling them into another room, when they are in the middle of their examining, is as liable to cause a meltdown as leaving them alone or letting them examine the world until it sends their Balance Levels into an internal collapse?

That sweet child, who loved the world and hated their body and struggled to not constantly be overstimulated, was a large part of why Meerik’za was pursuing medicine, wanting to find some way to ease their suffering. That sweet child had led to speeches in parliament as people tried to weaponize the reality of their situation in their politics.

There were the demands that D-Level tests within their nation be expanded—a reasonable demand, in Lan’za’s opinion. Not for the reasons the various politicians who supported such reform stated—mostly, they wanted control or regulation of various individuals with irregular deviations—but so their citizens could better understand their genetic needs. Lan’za was lucky in that she knew Emilia and Emilia knew a doctor who would break the law to help them. She was privileged in a way few were, and as a result, she not only knew what sort of Dyadism her sibling had, but she could afford to experiment with care and adaptations for them. Most people had no way to find such support, and it would be wonderful to see that changed.

Unfortunately, calls for such reforms were eventually sidelined, too many politicians refusing to put their name to votes in either direction—and really, their nation also needed to reform their parliamentary voting system, so too many abstentions couldn’t kill a bill.

Another demand had been that her mother birth another child, despite her age and health, in order to replace Furki’za as a potential source of influence in arranged marriages. Such things were rarely done in Seer’ik’tine anymore, although there had been some talk of marrying her mother’s third child off to Prince Meridian, despite the age difference. Still, it had come up in parliament—the fact that Furki’za was useless had been stated in blandly uncaring words and it was horrible.

Then, of course, there had been the demands that all Dyads be killed. Thankfully, only one person had asked for this one—although, more than a handful of their nation’s representatives had refused to speak out against her, and silence, in Lan’za’s opinion, was just as bad as endorsement. That particular woman had vanished a few days after her call for regulations that would allow all Dyads to be put out of their misery in what Lan’za was almost sure was a hit instigated by The Black Knot at Emilia’s behest. Lan’za didn’t think anyone, not even the woman’s children—one of whom had later been revealed to also be a Dyad, albeit with a much intense presentation than Furki’za’s—mourned for her.

Lan’za loved Furki’za just as much as she did most of her siblings—her second-youngest sibling, rather unfortunately, looked so much like his father, the current leader of the opposition, that he had taken to being a little shit, thinking himself entitled to something more due to that relation. The little brat didn’t yet understand politics, and instead, always took his father’s side—no one was convinced the man’s younger cousin, a man of no importance, wasn’t actually her brother’s father, but for the moment, the leader of the opposition wasn’t bothering to distance himself from the child, lest he one day become a useful pawn in some political game or another.

Regardless of that mess waiting to happen, Lan’za did love Furki’za, even with their difficulties. The reality, however, was that their existence added yet another layer of discomfort on to their mother’s relationship with all her children.

To be the leader of their nation was always something nasty—something ordained by the stars themselves—and there were expectations. Were the leader a man, he would have dozens of children. As a woman, Lan’za mother was treated as a thing to be fucked open and impregnated, and regardless of her having been raised for the role, those rituals had left their mark on Zitra’za Yu.

Usually, Lan’za didn’t think her mother hated the children she had been forced to create—and while few people spoke of it, Lan’za knew enough to know that while many years separated a few of their conceptions, her mother had partaken in breeding rituals in between. Whether those rituals resulted in no pregnancy or a miscarriage, Lan’za didn’t know. Either way, she didn’t think it had ever been something her mother enjoyed or would have chosen for herself, nor something she would have chosen for Lan’za, despite rumours that her time of birth had been controlled to put her first in line to become the next hai’za.

On top of the traumatic reality of how her children had been created and how one of them was high needs and several may always be a source of political strife, there was the simple fact that their mother hadn’t really raised them. She had been around, occasionally, but they had mostly been raised by a mixture of nursemaids and men who had caught her mother’s eye during the rituals—not actual harem members, but men who she thought would be good role models for the children she may or may not love.

It all resulted in them having an odd relationship with their mother. If pressed, Lan’za would say she thought Emilia had the best relationship with their mother, whom Lan’za thought must look at Emilia and her love for sex and think, “If only I could have viewed my obligations to fuck and breed with the smiles and happiness of this little girl.”

Really, Lan’za thought the main reason her mother had pushed for her and Emilia to be such close friends wasn’t that their nations were close, nor that a good relationship with Miles Starrberg and his child were something positive. Instead, she thought her mother had hoped that Emilia would instill some of her sex-positive attitude in Lan’za because while Seer’ik’tine in general was an open place, orgies held at various festivals throughout the year, family members comfortable enough with one another to share partners and attend the same orgies—and although Lan’za knew of few who actively engaged with one another at such events, it did happen—it wasn’t the same as what Emilia was.

Emilia was just… something different. Had she been in Lan’za position, the silverstrain would have been able to find joy in it—would have revealed in it, even. Yet, when Lan’za had eventually explained to her friend what her role as leader of the Seerish would one day entail, Emilia’s first question had been if she wanted an out.

“I’ll get you out of here, if you want! I won’t let that happen to you, if you don’t want it to!” her still young friend had growled in a rare moment of murderous severity.

Lan’za had never had anyone offer to take her away before, not even her brother. Meerik’za was concerned for her, of course, but neither of them had ever wondered if they could or should leave. It was their culture—their lot in life—and they had accepted it.

It was silly, that already in their mid-teens, Emilia had been the first one to insist that no, actually, they didn’t just need to accept a culture that dictated that she would become hai’za, and that as a result, she would have to allow herself to be fucked—to be raped, should she decide she didn’t want what was happening to her—and impregnated by unknown men over and over and over again.

There had been so many conversations between herself, Emilia, and her brother in the years that followed. They flowed between cultural obligations and the right to judge other cultures. Slowly, more people had been brought into their conversations—Emilia’s other friends, other Yu siblings, members of their coren'taz—that were ending and winding.

Ethics and morals. Ethics and morals within war and religion and innovation. Laws, laws, and more laws. A thousand topics fell between them, connecting and separating them through lines in the sand and a crossing of borders because, sometimes, all someone had to do was sit with an idea and let it burrow into them—let it make a home and befriend its neighbours.

Then, change happened.

Sometimes, it wasn’t good change, but sometimes, it was the spark that a person, a family, a nation, their entire fucking continent needed to change—to be better.

They had plans, each and every one of them, and fuck if Lan’za was going to let her mother’s ire with them and the situation or the expectation that she be quiet and learn by watching keep her from telling her mother what she thought they should do.

Perhaps her mother would still brush her off—would tell her that she was a child and needed to be quiet. Perhaps her mother would give in to the urge to kill her.

Regardless, as Lan’za stepped into her mother’s offices, her secretary scrambling up from his desk and giving chase as the woman stomped towards her private communication room, Lan’za pulled her spine straight and followed. If she turned now, she was almost positive her mother would let her leave and they would perhaps never talk of this again, but no.

No, Lan’za wouldn’t leave her mother to deal with this alone—after all, it wasn’t her but Lan’za who knew her friends and might actually be able to guess what insane thing they would be doing next.