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The house was hazey with incense and the air was thick with the heady smell of it. Everything burned; flower petals, dried leaves, blackening wicks. It clouded the mind, attempting to meet the eternal fire and soothe it.
From outside the home was blocked off, gate locked symbolically, and on the low stone wall that surrounded the property - many elders had left gifts; tonics and salves, more objects for the burning (so no one had to leave) or blessed stones to hold against the suffering’s forehead.
Sek collected them once a day and when he did there was usually someone waiting, someone who wanted to give the family something in person. Sek usually knew them, he was involved in the community - as was his mother.
“How is she?” The man of today asked. He was an elder with whom Sek’s family had attended temple since he was born, Skarn. He held a box out to Sek, a handmade charm and herbs which when chewed were said to cool the blood.
“Her condition is stable but it does not improve.” Sek told him, accepting the gift and collecting the other trinkets left behind on the wall. He was tired and his hands shook a bit when he held them out in front of him. He had been awake for several weeks of ceaseless activity.
Skarn nodded gravely. “Has a priestess been called?”
“Yes.” Sek said. “She is within.” He lied. The priestess had come regularly early in the process, preparing his mother for the fever, but once it was truly underway her presence had been a hindrance and she’d been thrown out by their mother.
Skarn nodded again and Sek knew what he would ask next. “Has the bond been broken?”
It was the question asked most frequently and the question most aggravating to his mother. Sek himself understood why it was asked, it was the logical thing to do. It was not logical to suffer endlessly as she was for no clear reason. Their father was lost to them. It would be most logical to take another mate, even if not for life.
“The bond will not be broken.” Elieth said, coming up behind Sek and taking half his burden. “And we will not have gawkers on the premises.”
With that, Elieth stalked back to the house and vanished inside it. Sek turned to Skarn and tilted his head apologetically, in deference to his elder. “I am shamed by my brother’s behavior. I ask you not take it personally, he is somewhat distressed.”
Skarn frowned but tilted his own head in acceptance of Sek’s apology. “He’s always been an…independent young man.” He said. “And I doubt living on Betazed has helped his discipline.”
Sek held his tongue which wanted to defend his brother and Betazed, which the elders seemed to view largely as a planet of wanton writhing and indulgence. He wanted a great many things but he had always been disciplined enough to set those wants aside.
“No, sir.” Sek said, raising his head. “I thank you for the gift on behalf of my family.”
Skarn raised a hand in an ‘it’s-nothing’ gesture. “I will keep my thoughts with you.” He said, before moving along down the road.
Sek waited for him to pass by the home before hurrying up the stairs. The front door was open to let the air flow freely and in its stead a near curtain of charms and beads hung from the frame. Sek added Skarn’s to the strange tapestry before stepping inside.
Elieth’s wife, Ione Kitain, was sitting on one of the two benches in the foyer, the other piled high with gifts that had not yet found a place within the home. She had Sek’s daughter sleeping in her arms and a book of Vulcan lullabies in her lap. She had been humming softly but stopped when he came in.
“Elieth just came in looking upset, did something happen?”
“He was disrespectful to an elder.” Sek said.
Ione hummed in thought, rocking the baby gently. “What did the elder say?”
“It does not matter.” Sek said, moving to check on his mother but pausing for a moment. His daughter’s expression was peaceful, she always slept well in someone’s arms.
Ione smiled. “Do you wanna hold her?”
Sek very much did. “There is no time,” he said, walking down the hall.
He could hear the chanting now - his paternal grandfather and Asil, a chant which had gone on for days without end. When one tired the other began and sometimes, like now, they chanted as one.
Sek placed the herbs on the kitchen counter with the others. There was barely any more space, his mother had been refusing to eat and they kept getting more. Elieth sat at the table, hands steepled as he glared out the wall-window out onto the porch.
Sek didn’t look at him, instead choosing to reorganize the kitchen’s mess. There was so much chaos. He began washing some of the dishes in the sink which was piled high with small ceremony bowls. Everything had its own bowl and he recognized them by sight. They were not to be contaminated by anything else and he washed them carefully, setting them aside for reuse.
“You have disrespected Skarn.” Sek said.
“Skarn has disrespected our father.” Elieth replied. “And our mother as well, doubly so.”
“He has done no such thing. You are behaving shamefully.”
“You have given up.” Elieth said. “I do not blame you for that, but I will not do the same and I will not listen to your lecture.”
“Elieth-” Sek began but his brother pulled out his chair and was gone, vanishing around the corner towards the living room’s hall.
Sek closed his eyes for a moment and nearly fell asleep, waking only when he heard a soft voice beside him.
“Brother.” Varith said, politely ignoring the way his brother jumped at the sound of his voice. “There is a man at the door.”
Sek’s stomach turned but he did not allow his dread to show. Varith had taken time off Starfleet to come home, though Sek had told him there was no need. As the youngest he had no duties to fulfill but he had his own work - grinding herbs and attending to the rest of the family, attempting to soothe fatigues. Even now he had a glass of cool water in hand, holding it out to his brother who accepted it gratefully.
“It is a suitor,” Vairth explained. “I have informed them that mother is not accepting suitors at this time but they insist they speak with the eldest.”
Sek inhaled as if to sigh but forced his exhale to be silent and slow. “I will take care of it. Thank you.” He downed the glass in one gulp, desperately thirsty. He wished for more and cast that wish aside.
“Is there anything I can do?” Varith asked, accepting the glass back from his brother.
Sek blinked and massaged the bridge of his nose. He wished his wife were here but she was home, resting and being attended to by her own parents. Their daughter’s birth had been a difficult one from which she had not yet recovered enough to travel. He wished he could be with her, attending to her as well. He let the wish go, it was illogical to think of her now. “Please check on Elieth, he seems…distressed.”
“It is his natural state.” Varith commented snidly before nodding and following Sek’s directions. Sek was glad that his brother had come despite his insistence, he was the only sibling of Sek’s that followed instructions without a fight.
When Sek opened the door he saw that there was indeed a man standing at the gate, an old woman beside him - ostensibly his mother.
“We’ear t’lady ot’house is feverin within.” The old woman said, her country accent thick. Sek was glad that his own grandparents had the same dialect, otherwise he wouldn’t understand a word.
“M’Ko’s nae acceptin’ guests. T’bond’s steady as.” Sek replied.
The old woman frowned and shook her head. “T’feverin brain can’nae be trust as true.”
“I respect M’Ko more’nae trust t’feverin. If she say she’s nae acceptin’ guest’n I don’t tinkterwise.” Sek shifted, looking eagerly towards the house. “Pr’aps y’should-” He began but was interrupted by the sound of a scream, anguished as anything, his mother.
A few people walking by paused and looked towards the home alarmed but understanding when they saw the charm-door and smelled the incense wafting from within, moving along with a respectful nod. Sek looked at the ground, fighting the urge to lie down on the soft, sun-warmed dirt.
He thought again of his wife, how even on bedrest she asked for him to bring her small projects - birdhouses to build and clocks to tinker with. He would sit at her bedside, sometimes with the baby and sometimes alone. Once he had fallen asleep and woken up with a blanket wrapped around, T’Nia asleep without any.
He thought of times when he’d been small and fallen asleep on the couch or the backseat of the familial craft and he’d wake up in bed or in his father’s arms, being carried there. He thought of his father and his mother and he ached.
Then he woke up, finding that he’d fallen asleep while standing at the gate and that the two visitors were nowhere in sight. He blinked, panic rising up as he heard footsteps running towards him and a small commotion coming from inside the house.
“Brother-!” Varith called and Sek ran to him, following his lead through the home and to their parents’ bedroom.
His mother was lying on the floor, amongst a nest of pillows and blankets, writhing with clenched teeth. Her hair was splayed out, covering her face as she groaned low in her throat. It was a frightening sight, their ever-logical mother looked like a folktale beast in moments before Sek calmed himself and remembered that she was merely ill, that she was suffering.
The man and his mother were in the room and though Sek’s paternal grandfather was ignoring them and continuing the chant, Asil had moved to block their further entrance. She was dressed in ceremonial robes, a hat with attached cloth that obscured her face doing nothing to hide her anger at the interruption.
“Leave. This is a private affair.” Asil demanded.
“We’ear t’lady ot’house is feverin-”
“This is a private affair, leave now.” Asil cut her off, voice trembling with rage. Being so close to another Vulcan in Pon Farr was surely taking a toll on her after days of little rest. It took a massive amount of control to remain steady and an interruption was not conducive to anyone’s steadiness.
“Asil.” Sek said, stepping into the room as Varith stepped back into the hall. “Madame, please. We ask that you leave, our mother is-”
The man stepped forward, maneuvering past Asil and crouching beside their mother. Sek felt his own blood warm, a spark of violence ignited within him. He wanted to rip out the man’s throat - how dare he? How dare he speak to their mother? How dare he be at her side?
He controlled himself, extinguishing the urge. He grabbed his sister’s arm so that she wouldn’t give in to what must be a similar urge herself. Deeper into the room, their grandparents (save their paternal grandfather) watched impassively.
“T’Pel, it is I. Do you recognize me?” The man said.
His mother groaned, sounding as if she were mortally wounded. She gripped one of the pillows surrounding her so hard the stitching came loose. “Holkut,” she breathed.
“Yes.” He nodded. “T’Pel, you are in pain. Why do you suffer? To what end?”
T’Pel cried out, wailing “Tuvok!” as if calling him to her side. Asil squeezed Sek’s hand and Sek stood straighter. It was always…distressing, when their mother cried out for him. The searching-pain that electrified their familial bond was near unbearable. In those moments he had to clench his teeth to keep himself from crying out for their father. Varith had once cried, the sorrow at their mother’s loss overwhelming him.
“He is gone. You are suffering needlessly.” Holkut said, reaching out towards her. “Your children are tired, T’Pel. Your family is tired. It has been weeks.”
T’Pel laid still as Holkut pressed the back of his hand against her cheek. He paused, then began sliding his fingers into position for a mind meld. “You-”
T’Pel’s hand flew up and grabbed Holkut’s wrist, twisting it unnaturally. He screamed in pain he was unprepared for and T’Pel used his surprise to kick him in the side. Once he was down she threw him across the room, into the wall. It did not satisfy her. She wanted him to bleed, to break, to die. He was not her mate.
“I will take no other!” She shrieked, grabbing one of the ceremonial candles, heedless of the fire, and raising it like a club. “I will accept no other!”
When she brought the candle down Sek flinched, a large shape flying past him. The next moments were fast. Sek’s heart pounded. Someone cried out but it was not Holkut and when Sek opened his eyes he saw that it was Elieth on the ground in front of his mother’s swaying form.
There was no time for anyone to say a word before Elieth had stood again, holding their mother’s wrist and pressing their foreheads together. “All is well, mother…he is leaving…he is already gone…” he murmured, gesturing with his other hand towards Holkut.
Sek and Asil sprung into action, taking the injured man and dragging him out into the hall.
“Varith, a sedative.” Asil said, ignoring Holkut’s moaning and pulling her younger brother into the room with their mother, closing the door firmly behind them.
Sek, alone with Holkut and his mother who’d followed them out, covered his face for a moment. He was tired. “I will call a doctor if you will wait.” Sek said, walking down the hall when he received no response from either party.
The doctor came and took their guests away within the hour and when Sek stepped back inside, his maternal grandmother was waiting. “Why din’t ye turn’amwey at t’door?” She asked, tone harsh though it was always harsh. Her wrists were heavy with jewelry - bracelets and bangles. She was tying a new charm to the doorframe.
Sek looked at the ground, bowing slightly. “Forgive me.”
“I asked why.”
Sek blinked. “I…did. They refused to listen.”
His grandmother didn’t respond for awhile, then, when she was finished with the task of tying, she told him to lift his head and follow her. They walked into the kitchen and she told him to sit in a tone that allowed for no argument - it didn’t even allow for a verbal agreement so he silently sat and watched her.
The woman was fast in the kitchen, moving as if she or someone else were starving. He supposed that was how one moved when one had had triplets to feed. When she was done she set a small tray in front of him - tea, water and a bowl of rice-stew with a vegetable side.
Sek stood. “I will take this to her right away.”
“No.” His grandmother said, tapping his shoulders so he’d sit down again. “Sit n’ eat. Y’lookit exhaustion child’n exhaustion’s no use’a’nyone ‘ere.”
Sek hesitated before nodding, relief flowing through him. He hadn’t realized how desperately he needed someone else to tell him it was alright to rest, to take a moment for himself. He was grateful for his grandmother’s wisdom. “Thank you.”
The woman looked perturbed by his thanks as always, walking off towards her daughter’s room without another word.
Sek finished the tray within minutes, then sat, watching the porch and letting the incense waft. Before he knew it he was being woken up again by a gentle voice.
“Sek?”
He opened his eyes to see Varith there and quickly sat up, wiping the drool on his cheek. The house was dark except for the candles - how long had he been asleep? What had he missed?
“All is well. Mother wishes to see you, or else I would have allowed you your rest.”
“Thank you,” Sek said, standing. “Please, rest yourself as well.”
Varith nodded, sighing. “I…will try.” When Sek turned to look back at him he shrugged - something he must have picked up in the academy. “It is difficult to feel at ease.”
When Sek entered his mother’s room it was much quieter than it had been. Asil was chanting now, their paternal grandfather asleep beside her. Their maternal grandfather was sitting with Elieth’s head in his lap and their grandmother was by their mother’s side, humming as she stroked her forehead with a cold cloth.
“Elde’mine…” His mother whispered when she saw him, her pleasure seeping through their bond. It nearly brought tears to Sek’s eyes but he controlled himself as always, kneeling beside her. She cupped his face and brought their foreheads together, closing her eyes and breathing out until her air was spent. “I apologize for all I’ve put you through. All I will put you through.”
Sek closed his own eyes, allowing himself to sink into his mother’s voice. It was calming, like being rocked. “It is nothing, mother.”
“Either I will break the fever or the fever will destroy me, there is no other acceptable option.” She continued quickly, feeling Sek’s resistance. “I know this distresses you. I know. I know…” She waited for him to calm, rubbing small circles on his skin with her thumbs. “I cannot take another mate.”
“It would not have to be forever, mother.” Sek said, voice soft and desperate. He wanted to grab her but he kept his hands in his lap. “The bond could be broken after your fever subsides.”
“I can still feel him.” His mother said, sliding one of her hands back to cradle Sek’s skull. “It is a thin bond, infinitesimal, but it is present.” Her voice trembled when she spoke next and Sek could feel his mother’s tear fall onto his shaking hand. “I will not allow it to be taken from me. It is all I have left of him.”
At this T’Pel’s mother placed her hand between their foreheads and broke the trance they were in, gently guiding her daughter’s head back down to the pillow she’d been lying on. “E’understands perfection now, mm? Perfection a t’olde sun spins. Rest now.”
Sek watched as his mother calmed under her own mother’s hands, closing her eyes and breathing deep, mouth open. He stood and walked wordlessly across the room, out into the hall, and collapsed onto the ground.
He wanted to sob. He wanted to go home. He wanted everything to be fine and the brief near-meld with his mother had made those wants much harder to extinguish. He felt as if he were burning with longing, he was gone, surely - his father was gone and his mother would be lost to him to in time - in time he would be the permanent head of house and every day he would have to walk the grounds knowing they were inherited to him by tragedy. He would have to speak with every member of the neighborhood and they would know and they would pity him in their own way as was logical and he would have to swallow it down and-
“Brother, hear me.” A voice beside him said, gruff and warm. “All is well, do not lie on the ground - it does not look well on you.”
Sek felt himself being lifted up until he was sitting with his back against the wall, a hand first on his forehead and then his shoulder. “There. You look most natural when you sit tall.”
“Elieth,” Sek breathed, grabbing onto his brother’s robe. His eyes burned. “You would allow our mother to die?”
“It is her choice. She might well live.” Elieth said. His intricate hairstyle had come undone or he had undone it, like when they were children and he would pick at the part where the braids met his scalp - saying it hurt - asking Sek to help him loosen them.
“It is illogical.” Sek hissed, his grip on Elieth’s robes tightening. “You are behaving emotionally.”
“You are the one who is behaving illogically, brother.” Elieth said, softer than he typically spoke, especially to Sek. “It is selfish and it is disrespectful towards our mother.”
“I am?” Sek asked in disbelief. “You are the one who-”
“I understand, you do not wish to lose her.” Elieth interrupted, placing his hand over Sek’s. He had grown taller than him, larger despite the fact that he was younger. “I also find the concept frightening, yet I do not allow that fear to control me. I do not allow it to impede our mother’s wishes. I ask that you do the same.”
“I hate you.” Sek spat, injecting all his hurt and frustration and exhaustion into the one phrase. It all left him as the words did and he was instead filled with shame. Bone-deep shame. He lowered his head until it was against his brother’s shoulder, lowering his arms so they dragged at his sides. He took a deep breath.
“I apologize. I did not…”
“I am aware.” Elieth said. “You have not had a chance to meditate and the situation is-”
“Do not absolve me so easily.” Sek muttered.
“It is easy to do.” Elieth said. “I see no logic in prolonging your guilt.”
Sek was quiet for a moment, the two of them silent and connected in the candlelit hall. Their shadows were an unnatural shape on the wall and Elieth watched it with tired interest. He remembered when, as a child, he had tripped and fell right into the wall. He’d screamed in pain and the first one to reach him was Sek, expression stern as he asked him again and again where it hurt - Where does it hurt, Elieth? He’d never seen his brother run in the house before and he hadn’t seen it since.
“When did you grow?” Sek asked, lifting his head and sitting beside his brother again.
Elieth hummed in thought. “I do not know. It seems that every day I find out I have grown.”
Footsteps came from down the hall and they both turned to see Varith carrying a tray. When he reached them he knelt down across from them, setting the tray down. It was large, enough for four. “We should all eat together. It is tradition.” Varith said, standing before either of his brothers could answer. “I will fetch Asil.”
Elieth took his plate without delay, biting into the bread and widening his eyes.
“Pleasant?” Sek asked.
Elieth nodded, swallowing. “I had no idea Varith could cook.”
“Nor did I.” Sek admitted, taking his own.
“What choice did I have? The Starfleet cafeteria and replicator systems are equally lackluster.” Varith said, stepping into the hall with their sister in tow. Their grandfather had taken up the chanting, heard briefly before the door closed behind them. “You should see what they refer to as plomeek soup. Grandmother’s eyes would roll white.”
Asil took off her hat and sighed, sitting down beside Varith. What hair wasn’t tied back was stuck to her face with sweat. “Thank you for the meal, Varith.” She said, voice hoarse.
“This plate is yours, sister.” Varith said, pointing to one with a tea colored darker than the rest. “The tea has soothing properties for your voice.”
Asil nodded in thanks and began drinking greedily, eyes closed in pleasure. They all ate in silence, too tired for conversation but enjoying one another’s company. There had been no time for them all to meet and sit together and their lives had taken them so far from each other. Sek couldn’t help but remember when they’d all been young and eaten together daily, it was a good ritual, one their father had insisted on - saying the days he got to eat with his own parents were always pleasant ones.
The memory spurred Sek to his feet and he nodded to his siblings, excusing himself as he hurried down the hall. The foyer was empty so he went upstairs, checking Elieth’s old room. As he suspected, Ione and his daughter were within. Ione smiled, spotting him. She was dressed in a sheer nightgown and a silk slip dress, extravagant as always in her fashion.
“Looking for someone?” She asked, teasing.
“Yes, you.” Sek said, stepping back to allow her to walk into the hall. “Elieth requests your company.” He lied, knowing his brother would never find his wife’s company unpleasant and not wanting to seem predictable. Ione had a lilting, jesting manner which sometimes played on Sek’s nerves. However, she was a good person and a fantastic babysitter from the looks of it.
“Well, you know I can’t keep that man waiting…” Ione purred, slinking down the hall and downstairs without another word. He doubted Elieth would mind waiting. He had once shown up late to a televised conference because he did not want to wake Ione, who had fallen asleep on his shoulder on the ride over. The two were well suited to each other, Sek had to admit. They were both wise and dramatic in their own ways.
“Sa!” T’Meni cried out when she saw him, struggling as she tried to move towards him on the bed. He quickly scooped her up and held her to him, relief overwhelming him. She felt right in his arms. He was more whole when he was with her. “Sa!” she cried out again, determined expression on her face.
“Are you hungry?” He asked her, though she couldn’t answer, walking towards the stairs. He could hear conversation from the kitchen now, Ione insisting she make them a desert she knew and Asil asking Varith for another thermos of tea.
Sek stood at the bottom of the stairs, in darkness for a moment, holding his daughter in his arms and listening to his family talking merrily. For a moment he could forget the incense and the absence and the looming potential loss. He wondered if that was what his mother felt when she held his face in her hands. He wondered if perhaps his father was alive, that by some miracle he had survived whatever had taken his ship and if he was mourning them. He pictured his father alive somewhere far from here, hand outstretched and steady, expression as determined as his fevered wife’s and Sek’s daughter’s, steadfast in their belief that another hand would wrap around theirs soon.
Sek sighed, breathing in his daughter’s milk-cloth scent before straightening and walking forward. He would get her something to eat. He would tend to his mother, staying by her side no matter what happened. He would turn suitors away and collect charms and hang them and believe in his family with all that he was.
His mother would survive, he told himself. And one day they would be whole again.