#the fucker is still misgendering emery

[ask-the-celestial-family]

(Oh. Oh- Uh oh. I can only imagine how well Eclipse and everyone else is going to react to Moon's KillCode gaining sentience... And it won't be fun..) Do you really think that'll work? That is basically doing the same thing that one Sun and Moon did in one universe- and one ended up braindead and the other living through a glitched backup. You can't just remove a core part of your 'brain' without consequence. -🐟 Anon

Yes I can. I will destroy. That piece of code will be the first, that quivering whore's baby second, then the blue one's son. Kill their children first, leave them vulnerable. -Eclipse🔥

[bronte-deserves-better]

What is UP, fuckers? Today I present to you: 12.5k words of pure self-indulgence by Auriel, posted by request of my discord friends who i've been bothering about this fic for like a week. Massive shoutout to y'all for tolerating me i have NO idea how you do it.

Title: Can’t find my way home (but it’s through you)

Wordcount: 12834

Warnings: flashbacks, panic attack (neither of those are from the POV character though), misgendering, injury, kidnapping, not too-graphic torture, brief mention of hospitals, mentioned abuse, annnnnd I think that's all.

I’ll link the AO3 in a reblog, but since I know AO3 is blocked for some people I’m also putting it here.

"How are we supposed to get to him?" Gisela was practically snarling in frustration as she paced. "Bronte is a cornerstone of the Council- and seemingly as unbreakable as one!"

"You're the people person, not me," Vespera reminded dryly. "I'm not the master of manipulation. Experimentation is my field."

"Well, fuck." Gisela flopped in a chair next to the other. "I was so certain Fintan was what would cause him to fall apart. Fintan turning against him, Fintan's supposed 'death', and then of course that dramatic reveal at the announcement."

"Fintan does have style, I must admit."

"He does. But even he hasn't been able to touch Bronte. Bronte barely even hesitated to speak against Fintan!"

Vespera sighed. "Gisela, I have no idea why you're telling all this to me."

"I'm brainstorming. Shut up."

"Brainstorm away, then."

"Right." Gisela resumed her pacing. "We had a weakness- we had his brother. But Fintan's starting to lose the will to fight him any longer, which is a dangerous liability. Not to mention that Fintan doesn't seem to be able to hurt him."

"I don't see why we can't just torture him," Vespera said, sounding bored.

Gisela glared at her. "In order to torture him, we'd have to kidnap him, Vespera."

"That can be arranged, you know."

"I know. But it's easier to break him from a distance. Or to..." She trailed off.

"To what?"

"Oralie!"

Vespera frowned. "What about Councillor Oralie?"

"Oralie is how we get to Bronte. You see, Vespera, from what Fintan has told me, I've been able to discern that Bronte fancies himself a protector. You can see it in his votes on the Council, too, always out to protect as many people as he can. Now what better way to crush his spirit than make him very aware of the fact that he cannot protect one of the people he cares about most?"

“Clever. And cruel. I like it.”

-

The announcement had come without warning, the elves of the Lost Cities assembling in Eternalia to hear some sort of Council plan to do something or other with the registry. Sophie hadn’t really been listening, and now she kinda regretted that since she was staring off into space when the first black-cloaked Neverseen members glittered into view.

“Shit,” Grady hissed.

“Language,” Edaline hissed.

Sophie stared at the Neverseen members. “Fuck.”

Everyone seemed to move at once, rushing to confront them. Even the Council made a move, Bronte raising his hands in a familiar gesture that Sophie knew meant he was preparing his inflicting, while some of the others rushed forward. And when all the chaos cleared, the duo of Neverseen members were levitating in the air, holding Oralie between them. Sophie watched as one of them shook back her hood, revealing Lady Gisela.

“Good evening, Councillors.”

Bronte, unsurprisingly, was the first to act, surging forward with a call of "Oralie!"

"Take a step closer and she dies," Gisela hissed, digging the knife she was holding a little further into Oralie's neck. "We wouldn't want that to happen, now would we, Miss Pyren?"

"My name is Bronte," Bronte spat, but he took a step back.

"Good."

"What do you want with Oralie?" Emery demanded.

"She's the kindest of us," Bronte agreed with a glare that could shatter steel. "Leave her alone."

Gisela threw back her head and laughed. "You want to know what I want with your pretty colleague here? Well, Pyren, I want to show you how absolutely and utterly powerless you are. Look at you. You're an ancient, a wielder of one of the most dangerous abilities in our world, and a Councillor for so long most people can't even remember when you were appointed. And yet you can do nothing to save your very best friend."

"Don't listen to her," Oralie pleaded. Sophie was close enough to discern genuine terror on her face. "She's just trying to get in your head."

"Silence!" Gisela slashed the knife lightly down the side of Oralie's throat, and Sophie watched blood begin to bead there. "You will say nothing, you pathetic excuse for a Councillor."

Oralie went silent at that, but her eyes blazed with defiance.

"You see?" Gisela directed a smirk at Bronte. "This is what happens when you're not careful enough with the people you love...people will take them away from you, Miss Pyren."

Sophie watched Bronte's hands clench and unclench helplessly. "Don't call me that."

"What, your last name? You want to keep your heritage a secret? You always said you were proud to be a Pyren, even when pyrokinesis was banned."

"No-"

Gisela smirked again and slashed a second line on Oralie's throat, causing the empath to hiss in pain. "I don't suppose anyone else feels like being stupid and trying to stand against me? You say this ancient is the strongest of you...but she can't even save her best friend."

"Stop calling him tha-" Oralie was cut off by a slap across the face from the other hooded figure, who Sophie recognized as Vespera.

"Stop your uppity commentary. Gisela and I will be leaving shortly, seeing as none of you have anything interesting to say."

Sophie could see a few tears forming in Oralie's eyes as she silently raised a hand to the red mark on her cheek.

"My associate is correct." Gisela's voice was triumphant. "It is time we leave- and show all of you just how weak your Councillors truly are." 

Vespera raised a crystal to the light. The elves of the plaza scattered. Gisela stepped into the beam with Oralie. The Council and bodyguards rushed to try and stop her. Sophie stood paralyzed. And above it all, a single, desperate scream rose.

"Oralie!"

The silence left in its wake was devastating, broken only by a soft, shuddering sob. Sophie turned to see Bronte's face crumple, tears dripping down his cheeks. Meanwhile, the rest of the Council just stood and stared awkwardly. 

Sophie was about to go running on stage herself when Emery quietly stepped out of the line, extending an arm and pulling Bronte into an embrace. To everyone's surprise, the ancient Councillor put up no resistance, instead burying his face in Emery's shoulder as his small frame shook. 

"We will find Councillor Oralie, and we will bring everyone responsible for this to justice," Emery addressed the crowd. "The Neverseen will not get away with this. In the meantime, we ask that everyone return home and remain calm, and the eleven of us will rule provisionally."

"What does that mean?" Sophie whispered to Grady.

"Technically, the Council isn't allowed to act on anything without all twelve of them," Grady whispered back. "It's called provisional rule when an incomplete Council takes action in urgent situations."

"Oh."

Elves were starting to leave, murmurs abounding as people reached for home crystals or pathfinders. Sophie decided not to follow the rest, instead grabbing her parent's hands and dragging them through the crowd towards the Council. All eleven remaining Councillors had now broken rank, the rest surrounding Bronte and Emery with varying levels of helpfulness. 

"There there," She heard Clarette say as they got closer. "We'll do perfectly fine at hunting those motherfucking orc-faced sons of dipshits down."

"What did you just say?" Alina demanded.

Clarette repeated the sentence, and Sophie realized she had been speaking in dwarven before as the rest of the Council sputtered. Bronte was the only one who didn't react at all, completely motionless in Emery's arms. 

"Hey," Terik said quietly, and it took a moment for Sophie to realize he was talking to her.

She waved awkwardly. "Hi, I guess."

"Did you need something?"

“I- no, I just wanted to...” Sophie trailed off. What did she want? “I wanted to talk about what just happened and check on the Council.”

“Well, we’re-“ Terik shot a glance over his shoulder to where Clarette seemed to be violently cussing out the Neverseen in multiple languages as Liora patted Bronte on the shoulder. “Well, arguably not fine, but we’ll solve it.”

“The Council will find the kidnappers and bring them to justice,” Emery agreed. Both of his arms were now wrapped around Bronte, who was still silent.

“Yeah, I mean, but I can help, right? I’m the leader of Team Valiant.”

“This is a matter for the Council.”

Sophie refused to give up so easily. “Well I also wanted to check on Bronte. He’s my inflicting mentor, and one of my points of contact on the Council.” 

“I’m sure Bronte will be fine,” Terik said, but he didn’t sound convinced. 

His words were made even less reassuring by the fact that the short Councillor was shaking and didn’t bother to make his own statement. 

“Bronte?” Sophie asked.

Nothing.

“Bronte?” 

He didn’t even look over at her.

“Bronte,” she tried one more time.

Bronte was still silent, and Emery sighed softly. “He’ll be okay, Sophie. We’ll get Oralie back, and in the meantime, we can certainly rely on his stubbornness.”

“Promise me you won’t let anything bad happen?” Sophie was aware she sounded childish, but some things were more important than her pride.

“Promise,” Emery told her, and she wanted to believe him. “Bronte‘s more than capable of physically defending himself, and as for the rest...well, Councillors support each other.”

"No we don't," Ramira muttered.

"Ramira!" The rest said in unison.

"I think we're going to leave you guys," Grady decided. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go home."

Sophie didn't have the energy to protest.

-

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, Oralie, Gisela, and Vespera had just shimmered into view, only to be met with a furious Fintan. 

He stalked towards them with murderous intent on his face, and Oralie flinched back. 

"GISELA-"

"Fintan, what in the world are you so worked up about?"

"You kidnapped Oralie? Without TELLING me??" Fintan was practically snarling. "You fucking idiots! What the fuck do you expect kidnapping Oralie to get you?!?"

"You see, my dear Fintan, there is such a thing as 'using others to strike at your true target'," Gisela sighed.

"And who the fuck are you trying to strike at? Sophie Foster? There are far more effective ways to do that!"

Gisela rolled her eyes. "Why would we kidnap Oralie to get at Sophie? No, we're trying to get at your sister."

"I don't have a sister."

"You know who I meant."

Oralie felt like throwing up at the misgendering, but she didn't dare say anything with the knife at her throat.

Fintan's expression didn't change, but Oralie thought she caught a hint of disgust in his voice as he spoke again. "You two have the planning skills of a carrot, collectively. My brother wouldn't give a fuck about some quiet empath. Besides, look at her now! She's bleeding and hurt. What do you expect that to get you? It certainly isn't going to win you the sympathy of the elven world."

Gisela opened her mouth, but Fintan cut her off, stepping closer. "Listen, Gisela, Vespera. You've made plots work before. But when it comes to the Council, you need to listen to me." He reached out an arm, tugging Oralie to his side with surprising strength. "Now I'm going to go fix up her wounds before these get infected and we lose our only valuable prisoner."

"As you see fit," Gisela muttered bitterly.

Oralie tried to pull away as Fintan tugged her down the hall, but the diminutive ancient was remarkably strong, and she was forced to remain by his side. 

"What do you want with me?" She hissed, trying to ignore the pain in her neck.

"Shut up," Fintan hissed back.

"No."

"Shush!"

Tugged close to his side as she was, Oralie could feel that he was truly angry, red-hot rage on the surface of his emotions, but below that was...fear? No, that wasn't quite right. Focusing in on the emotion, Oralie realized that Fintan was worried. Concerned, even. Startled by that, she was quiet all the way to their seeming destination, an unmarked door.

Fintan turned the knob and then kicked the door open, revealing what looked like a crude medical bay. "Come on."

Oralie winced as he yanked her inside none-too gently. "What do you want?"

"I want to fix those damn slashes." Fintan pointed at one of the cots. "Sit, let me find the cream we have for this."

She obliged, wary of what Fintan might do if she didn't.

To her surprise, he did precisely what he had said he was doing, retrieving some nasty-smelling ointment. "This hurts like a bitch, but it will disinfect those."

Fintan reached for her, and Oralie flinched away, remembering how he had looked the day Kenric died. "Don't touch me."

"But-" Fintan sighed. "Here. Put this on your neck, please, and a bandage too."

Too startled by the fact that Fintan Pyren had just uttered the word 'please' to disobey, Oralie did so. He hadn't been lying; it did hurt quite a bit, but she could feel the sting fade after a moment. "Why are you being kind to me?"

Fintan wouldn't meet her eyes. "Bronte cares about you."

"I didn't realize you cared so much about him still."

"I don't!" 

It didn't take her ability to know that was a lie. "Then why would you help me?"

He sighed, seemingly realizing the corner he had talked himself into. "Fine. I care about Bronte far more than I should, and he cares for you in turn. I helped you out of love for my brother. Nothing more."

"You sound just like Bronte when he's trying not to care," Oralie mused quietly.

Fintan's expression shuttered. "My brother and I are nothing alike. I'm a killer, he's a Councillor."

"You were a Councillor," she pointed out.

"That was a long time ago." Fintan shoved a tin of something in her face. "Here. Bruise stuff for that slap on your face."

Oralie recognized the deflection, and let it slide. "How do you know so much about wound care?"

"The Neverseen aren't exactly careful with themselves."

That didn't quite answer her question, but she let that slide too, applying the bruise cream. "What do you plan to do with me?"

"I don't know, Gisela doesn't tell me shit. We'll probably hold you hostage or something."

"If you plan on interrogating me, you should know that I won't break," Oralie murmured. 

"Anyone breaks with enough pressure," Fintan said, but he didn't seem like he meant it. "Come on, let's get you to a cell before Gisela gets on my ass about 'security'."

His flippant tone reminded Oralie of the Fintan she had known before the pyrokinesis ban, but she was wise enough not to say that as Fintan dragged her through the halls of the hideout. 

The cell Oralie was placed in was freezing cold, and she was already shivering as Fintan locked the door. His gaze was apologetic, but he said nothing as he turned and left. 

Knowing she needed to keep as much of her skin off the cold metal floor as possible, Oralie stripped off her thin Councillor's cloak and set it down as a barrier. She took off her circlet too, not wanting cold metal on her head, and tucked it into her dress. Then, she shed her heeled shoes, in case she needed to run, and tucked her feet under her dress in a futile attempt to keep warm, shivering all the while.

After that, there was nothing to do but wait and try to keep warm. By the time she guessed it was nine pm or so, she was curled up as tightly as she could manage. And by an hour after that, she had given up on sleeping at all that night.

Just when her tired eyes were finally starting to close, the cold seeping into her bones, she heard the door of the cell click open and light footsteps move across the floor. Deciding it was best to remain still, Oralie kept quiet as she felt a heavy, warm piece of fabric settle onto her. Through her half-closed eyes, she could see wavy, ice-blond hair fall into her vision when the person bent down to lay whatever it was over her.

The footsteps retreated, and the cell door closed. Only then did Oralie dare sit up and see what the person had left her; it was a Neverseen cloak, warm and smelling vaguely like wildfires and the serums from the medical bay. She recoiled at the smoke smell, but ultimately her need for warmth overcame any disgust. Laying back down, she found that the cloak was a little shorter than she really needed. It was warm, though, and if she curled up she could fit under it well enough. 

With the added warmth of the cloak, she was asleep within minutes.

-

In the Lost Cities, Emery and the other Councillors had long since given up on getting anything productive done that night and were collectively having a variety of arguments that ranged from how to best rescue Oralie to what the hell a 'clam chowder' was. 

Personally, Emery was well aware of what clam chowder was, but he had bigger concerns than watching Zarina and Clarette debate it. Namely, Bronte, who was sitting next to him and staring off into space. 

"Bronte," Emery tried one more time. "Bronte, please."

He said nothing, so Emery turned to Liora. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"Why would I know?" The conjurer didn't wait for an answer. "Let's take him back to one of our castles. Bully him into getting some food and sleep, and in the morning we'll try to handle the rest."

"We can go to mine," Emery decided. "Bronte, is that okay with you?"

Bronte continued to stare past Emery's head, but he nodded slowly, and Emery counted that as a victory. 

"Right." Emery stood up, making his voice louder to address the rest of the Council. "Bronte, Liora, and I are heading out for the night. We're getting nothing done, and we all need to sleep or we'll get nothing done tomorrow as well. I know it's tempting for us to spend all night on the search for our colleague, but we need to rest or we won't be ready to continue tomorrow."

"I agree with Emery," Noland signed from the corner, shooting Emery a tiny smile. "We need to rest."

"Emery is right," Clarette agreed. "Let's go."

The Council split off, leaving the room in groups of one or two. It was both heartbreakingly familiar and heartbreakingly different from how the usual routine went; it was almost always that Councillors walked back to the castles in groups, discussing with their political allies or friends, but with Oralie gone, those groups had already shifted. Usually, Terik walked back alone, but today he was signing back and forth with Noland. Derek, who usually walked with Noland, looked rather put out by this, and had chosen to team up with Alina. Meanwhile, Clarette, Velia, Ramira and Zarina were all walking together in a tight-knit little clump, which wasn't too unusual; usually those four stuck together and left in some configuration, sometimes duos or trios. 

Usually, Emery walked with whoever he wanted to talk to that day, having no defined group. For the past few months, he had made a point to walk back with Alina so she would feel welcome on the Council. But Alina and Bronte despised each other, and today Bronte needed Emery more. So Emery had fallen into step with Liora and him, heading back to Emery's castle. 

Liora reached the door first, and pushed it open without even asking Emery. "Well, your front room is...ostentatious."

Emery sighed and decided it wasn't worth fighting with Liora over interior design today. "I know."

He almost wished Bronte would make a blunt comment about it, as would be typical for him, but the other was silent as he stepped inside. 

"Food first," Liora said, and Emery nodded along as she wandered into his kitchen and started banging around.

"Liora is a shit cook."

Emery whipped his head around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, finding Bronte hadn't changed posture or expression at all. "What did you say?"

"Liora is a shit cook," Bronte repeated. His voice was hoarse, quiet, but Emery had never been so relieved to hear an insult in his life.

"I am not," Liora called from the kitchen.

Bronte just snorted quietly. 

Liora did turn out to be fairly awful at cooking, but they all ate it anyways. Afterwards, Emery found spare rooms for the other two, down the hall from his, and settled down to sleep. 

He woke up again at maybe one am to a near-scream from down the hall, leaping out of bed and immediately hurrying to see what was going on. Liora's door remained shut, and she was still somehow asleep when he peeked in, so he hurried to Bronte's room and pushed open the door.

"Bronte?"

The other scrambled backward, pressing against the headboard of the bed. "Don't- stay away."

Emery flinched back from the words. "Are you okay?"

Bronte didn't answer him, instead pleading under his breath for something Emery couldn't hear. 

Emery took a step forward. "It's okay. It's just- it's just me."

Bronte didn't reply once again, but he didn't flinch when Emery stepped forward again. So Emery started talking again, quietly, offering up whatever reassurances he could manage as he slowly made his way across the room. Talking had always been his skill, ever since he was in Foxfire and talking his mentors into teaching him more advanced subjects. Always speaking, always deflecting and lying and persuading, never part of the action. Opposite from Bronte, he guessed. Now he was grateful for all that, though, his words allowing him to reach the other.

"You're safe," he told Bronte quietly.

Bronte's gaze was still filled with terror when he looked up at Emery, fear mingling with sorrow and guilt. "They- they tried to hurt Fintan. They tried to get him but I got in their way and I tried to get them to stop and-" he choked on a sob. "And I lied to my inflicting mentor when she asked about the bruise, I said that- I said that we were playing tackle bramble even though I've never played tackle bramble, but- but they hurt him. They hurt Fintan."

For once, Emery's voice failed him. "Who?"

"Mother and father," Bronte choked out. "Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you."

Emery still didn't know what was going on, but his heart was breaking for the other when he knelt by Bronte. "Shh. It's okay. No one's going to hurt me, and no one's going to hurt you. I promise."

"I promised too, you know." The older Councillor laughed bitterly, and his voice was lighter, younger, when he spoke again. "I promise, Fintan, I'll never let anyone hurt you." He dropped the tone. "But they did."

"I'm sorry," Emery murmured. "I'm sorry."

Bronte's laughter turned into sobs, and before Emery had time to comprehend what the fuck was going on, he was holding a sobbing Bronte for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. At this point, it wasn't even close to the worst thing that had happened this week. So Emery knelt on the hardwood floor- why oh why had he never gotten a carpet for this room- and let Bronte cling until the other had gone quiet.

"I'm sorry," Bronte said finally. His voice was still rough. 

"For what?"

He didn't answer. "Go back to bed."

"Okay, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Go back to bed, Emery."

Worried and a little hurt, Emery had no choice but to retreat to his own room.

The next morning, Emery and Liora found that Bronte was gone, a note left on the kitchen table that said "Thank you for the hospitality. You were very kind. I will see you at the Council meeting today." It was signed with a scribbled "Bronte.". 

Emery and Liora glanced at each other.

"That's abrupt," Emery said, although he suspected he knew why Bronte had left.

"Typical of him, really," Liora remarked. 

"How much do you know about Bronte?" So Emery was curious, sue him.

"We don't get along very well. But we have worked together for a very long time." Liora frowned, stepping over the doorstep. "'Don't get along' might be an overstatement. It would be more accurate to say that Bronte is deeply guarded, and I am deeply introverted, and as thus we simply never got to know each other." 

"That makes sense. You're rarely one to speak to the others outside of our work." Liora was one of the few who always walked back to her castle alone.

"Indeed. But I have known Bronte for long enough that he is not such an enigma to me."

Emery started towards the Councillor's meeting building. "What do you know of him?"

"I know he is grumpy, introverted, and guarded. I know he has resisted any and all efforts for anyone to get to know him, but he loves his brother and his best friend more than anything in the world. He would kill and die for Oralie without hesitation.”

“We all know that one,” Emery muttered.

Liora laughed quietly. “True. You see, Oralie was appointed not long after I was, and Kenric at the same time. But Oralie and Kenric were much, much younger than I. Besides even the commonalities that Bronte and Oralie shared, it was natural for him to take on an older sibling role to the two of them. Meanwhile, I was quite independent when I started on the Council, and the only person I asked for advice was Carsil- I believe you met them? While Oralie instantly bonded with the Pyrens, I have always been more reclusive.”

Emery nodded, pausing at the door. “From what I know of Oralie, Kenric, and Bronte, that seems right. Do you know why Bronte is so...reluctant to make friends?”

“I have no idea. But I would expect his ability and his past have something to do with it.”

Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you. 

Emery stepped into the building after Liora.

-

Oralie woke up the next day half-wondering if the cloak laid over her had been a dream, since she was shivering slightly, but when she sat up, the Neverseen cloak fell to the floor.

“Not a dream, then,” Oralie murmured to herself. 

Her next move was searching for weaknesses in her cell, which there appeared to be none of, followed by pacing futilely and trying to think. That was followed by sitting hopelessly on her cape thinking about Bronte’s face when Gisela had leapt her away, which turned into thinking about Kenric, which turned into thinking about Sophie. 

Sophie. Oralie had never before wished to be a telepath, but now she would have chosen abilities as strong as her daughter’s if it meant being able to contact her friends- her family- even one last time. 

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Gisela arrived in time to pull Oralie out of her depressing thoughts spiral. Most certainly unfortunately, she proceeded to drag Oralie through the halls, tie her to a chair, and begin asking a ridiculous amount of questions.

“No. No, I don’t know. Why would I know who Sophie’s biological parents are? I’m not a member of the Black Swan.” Technically, that was the truth, so Oralie stuck to that story. Thankfully, she had long practice at lying and getting away with it, despite the weakness all Empaths shared. Much as that had made Sophie hate her, it came in handy when being tortured by the Neverseen. So Oralie lied and lied and deflected and refused to answer, and Gisela got steadily madder and madder. 

“Is there nothing that will phase you?”

Oralie stared up at her calmly, trying to ignore all the cuts and bruises that were now scattered across her body. “Nothing.”

Gisela smirked. “Is that so? Well I know your looks matter to you, so…” She flicked open her knife again, slashing it across one of Oralie’s cheeks and then the other. Slash slash. Two agonizing cuts, two streams of blood dripping down Oralie’s face.

Silence.

Oralie broke the quiet, taking all of the pain she had been repressing and letting it go, letting the cry trapped in her throat and the tears in her eyes go free.

Gisela looked startled. “Pathetic. So easily broken.”

Oralie let out her most pathetic sob in response.

“Honestly. So weak,” the polyglot sniffed. “Now tell me what you know.”

Instead of obeying, Oralie started crying even harder, feeling tears sting the cuts on her cheeks.

“Stop that! You’re supposed to be a Councillor, not a pathetic mess.”

“I- I-” She shuddered weakly, unable to muster the energy to respond even if she had wanted to tell Gisela anything.

“Stop your crying!”

The snap reminded Oralie distinctly of some less than lovely people she knew, and she took that emotion and turned it into even more tears. Fragile, she might be. Easily broken, she might be. But shards of glass were even more dangerous than the whole they once had been, and Oralie had learned to take her brokenness and make it a weapon.

So even as Gisela kept asking questions, Oralie just cried and cried until the other finally gave up and dragged her back to her cell. 

“Sit here and think about your pathetic life, Councillor crybaby,” the other hissed.

Oralie just shuddered again, letting a sob shake her entire body. 

Gisela stomped away in a huff, and Oralie gave herself two more minutes to cry before she wiped her tears, got up, and started trying to figure out how to stop her face from bleeding. She could still hardly believe that had worked, but she would take whatever scraps of time to herself she got.

Her solution to her face ended up being pressing the Neverseen cloak to her cheeks until the bleeding had mainly stopped. And while she did that, she tried to brainstorm ways to get out. Sophie. Sophie! Knowing Sophie was the only telepath powerful enough to reach her, she tried calling out with her mind, to be met with only silence. It seemed that Sophie wasn’t listening- or hadn’t found her. Defeated, Oralie sat back on the floor and started trying to break her circlet to turn into a lockpick or make-shift weapon. Every part of her body ached, but if she could focus on survival it became easier to ignore that.

-

In Eternalia, Emery watched something new in Bronte’s expression break each day, the circles under his eyes getting steadily darker and the pain in them persisting. The Council’s search for Oralie had been mainly futile, as it seemed the Neverseen had somehow disabled the tracking device in her cloak. And even Alina, who had never liked Oralie, was feeling the pressure. Oralie was beloved by so many, and to have her gone was a devastating blow. Especially to Bronte.

The Senior Councillor had been especially distant from Emery ever since the day of the kidnapping, when he had completely broken down in Emery’s arms. Emery half-suspected he was embarrassed, but it hurt anyways when Bronte snapped at him. 

Despite their distance, it ended up being Emery who found Bronte crying in the Councillors’ meeting room a good hour after the rest had gone home. Emery had lingered in the building, checking on one or two last things, and when he wandered back into the meeting room to grab his stuff, he found the other sitting there. 

Despite his usual eloquence, the first thing he could think of to say was “Well, this is awkward.” 

“Fuck off,” Bronte snarled, but he looked too much of a mess for the words to really be impactful.

“It’s not the end of the world if I see you upset.”

“I know. But I refuse to let you get hurt.” 

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m an inflictor. Put the fucking pieces together, Emery.”

“You’re scared of...hurting me?” Emery was strangely touched, despite the other’s harsh words.

“Yes. Now leave me alone.”

“No.”

Bronte stared at him. “What?”

“I said no.” Emery took a breath, steeling himself. “Listen, I know you care about Oralie most. Everyone knows she’s the only one you’ll ever talk to. But Oralie isn’t fucking here right now. We might be working on getting her back, but that doesn’t mean you get to just- just push everyone away and refuse any help in the meantime. And I know you’re scared of hurting me, or scared of vulnerability, or whatever the fuck it is, but please just let me fucking help, Bronte.” He was startled when his voice broke on the last sentence, words coming out all jagged and torn-up.

Bronte’s expression hadn’t changed much, but Emery thought he caught shock on the other’s face. “You actually care?”

“Of course I do! Isn’t it obvious?” Emery found himself rubbing at his eyes to keep from tearing up. “I was fucking worried, and you just up and left and- and stayed away. Because you’re scared or whatever.”

“I was just being cautiou-”

“Well fuck that! You’re the elf who goes charging headfirst into danger and didn’t even falter when King Dimitar threatened to rip your head off that one time. And somehow you’re too afraid to let anyone help you? You’re a coward, Bronte.” 

For a second, Emery thought he was going to get absolutely destroyed, but Bronte’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Emery.”

“It’s fine,” Emery whispered, turning his head away. 

“No, it was shitty.” Bronte stood, holding his arms out awkwardly, and Emery took the embrace. Bronte might have been a full head shorter, but Emery felt very small compared to the other’s ancient presence. Emery was made of gold, soft and malleable but loved and charming. Bronte was made of steel, sharp and unflinching and plain. Which one of those was better, Emery couldn’t say. But, for just a moment, he allowed himself to be soft, leaning on Bronte’s steely presence. 

-

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, it had been a full week since Oralie’s capture. Every day, one of the Neverseen members had taken a turn trying to interrogate her. Giesla had given up after the second day. Fintan had asked some questions and done a little half-hearted threatening, but Oralie could tell he wasn’t actually prepared to follow through on his threats. So she had told him nothing. Vespera had been the worst, cruel and calculating, but Oralie had kept her mouth shut. Somehow. And now she was back in her cell in a haze of exhaustion and pain, staring blankly at the corridor Vespera had left via.

Finally, her blank stare landed on a set of keys that had fallen from Vespera’s belt, and that was enough to break through her numb tiredness. Keys! To her cell! She reached through the bars, finding the keys only inches from her fingertips, and swore under her breath. The keys glittered just out of her reach, taunting her.

Oralie rummaged around in her dress, retrieving her circlet, and slammed it against the floor. 

Once. 

It didn’t break. 

There was something symbolic, maybe, about Oralie not being able to break the object that was a physical representation of her responsibilities. The embodiment of her duty to the Lost Cities, encased in a circle of metal that was heavier than it looked. 

Twice.

The circlet began to crack. 

But she was more than her responsibilities. She had gone beyond the Council seat she held. She was not just Councillor Oralie, she was something beyond the title that so often preceded her name. 

Thrice.

The metal snapped entirely. 

Oralie wasted no time into bending it into a straight line with a slight hook on the end, reaching out again and snagging the keys. 

From there, it was fairly simple to reach around and unlock her cell. Oralie tucked the keys into a pocket of her dress, and bundled up her Councillor’s cloak into a small enough ball to fit in another pocket. The Neverseen cloak, she donned, and the broken circlet went into her right hand, ready to fight if need be. She left her heeled shoes behind in the cell, knowing they would be of no use in a fight, and slipped into the hallways of the hideout.

Oralie realized fairly quickly that she now had no shoes, no idea where she was going, and an entire hideout of Neverseen members to evade. Nevertheless, she refused to squander her chance at freedom. So she crept along, making her way towards the healing wing she and Fintan had been in earlier. Thankfully, she arrived there without incident, pushing open the doors and shutting them with a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, Fintan happened to be in the healing wing currently, bandaging his hand.

Oralie froze, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

Fintan turned at the noise of doors shutting, and gaped at her. “Oralie?”

“Fintan,” Oralie said quietly. 

“How did you get in here?”

Oralie shrugged apologetically and tried to look innocent.

Fintan wasn’t buying it. “You escaped your cell somehow, and somehow managed to navigate to this wing.”

“I remembered the way.”

“Clever.” Fintan’s smirk seemed almost impressed. “As a leader of the Neverseen, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to escape, however.”

Oralie’s heart clenched in fear, but she refused to let it show on her face. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Well, I’m obligated to tell you that you should absolutely not go into the storeroom of this wing. That would be a terrible idea. And you should definitely not kick open the panel behind the burn cream boxes. That would hurt. And definitely not help you escape.”

“I will definitely not do that,” Oralie told him. She would have been smiling if she was any less exhausted.

“Good, good.”

“Thank you for the cloak, by the way.” She held it out. “You can have this back, sorry for bleeding on it.”

“No, no, keep it. But remember, you should definitely not be wary of the ways it might be similar to your Council one.”

Ways it might be similar...ways it might be similar...trackers! Oralie nodded. “Thank you, Fintan.”

“Don’t mention it.” He stepped aside to let her pass. “Oh, and…tell Bronte I said hello, will you?”

“I will. He misses you,” Oralie added impulsively.

“I’m afraid he’ll have to continue missing me.” Fintan’s sorrow was genuine, and Oralie didn’t need to brush her hand against his as she passed to know that.

She did anyways, needing to know if Fintan genuinely cared about helping her. She found nothing but mild concern, sorrow, and a hint of fear at what the other Neverseen members might do, which was more than enough proof that he cared. Much like Bronte, Fintan was not as subtle as he thought he was.

So Oralie headed into the storeroom, looking around for the box of burn cream. It appeared to be near the back wall, and when she scooted it aside, she found a loose panel in the wall. So she followed Fintan’s advice and kicked it as hard as she could, hissing an “Ouch!” under her breath as her bare foot made contact. The panel fell outward, though, and Oralie was able to crawl outside. The dirt felt wonderful after a week of cold metal floors on her bare feet, and she allowed herself a moment to breathe before putting the panel back in place and running from the hideout.

The Neverseen base had appeared to be in a deciduous forest, as the tree leaves were currently red, orange and yellow, and it was populated by what Oralie guessed were birches and maples. The setting didn’t really matter, though, only getting away from her captors. So she ran until she was out of sight of the building, and only then allowed herself to flop onto the ground.

Remembering Fintan’s words, she took her broken circlet and used it to cut open the seams of the cloak, looking for trackers. She found a little disk fairly similar to the ones in her Councillor’s cloak, and set it on the ground. Over that, she put her Councillor’s cloak, and took a moment to breathe and brace herself for what she was about to do.

Shing! The broken circlet slashed through the soft skin on her left index finger, and Oralie sprinkled the blood all over her discarded cloak. There. That should throw them off her trail. 

She wiped her bloody finger on Fintan’s cloak, got up, and started walking. 

Her walk turned out to be a very long one, stumbling over seemingly endless tree roots and pushing through seemingly endless bushes. Even as night fell, Oralie forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t afford to be caught. She couldn’t afford to be caught. That was the chant that kept her on her feet, even as her entire body ached. Her legs and feet ached from walking, her arms and hands ached from what Vespera had dealt, and her face ached from the slashes Gisela had given her. Still, she staggered onward until it was nearly dawn and she was able to see a little settlement on the horizon. 

As she got closer, she could tell that it was clearly a human town, with quaint architecture and a few humans bustling about. Still, if she concentrated, she could read the signposts, which were in one of few human languages she knew. The one Sophie spoke. Well, Sophie spoke all the languages. But the one Sophie had grown up with. English! That was the word. Language? Noun? Oralie shook her head, trying to clear it, but it only made her more dizzy. Blood loss and sleep deprivation probably had something to do with that, she reflected, which was evidence that she had been friends with Bronte too long. Only Bronte would be so clinical about something like this. Fuck, she missed him. And he was probably worried about her, seeing as she had gotten kidnapped. Sure, Oralie had bigger problems than Bronte’s worry, but it was easier to think about her best friend than the fact that she had staggered into the human town and humans were staring, or the fact that she felt like passing out.

Which was what she proceeded to do, right on the doorstep of one of the houses. 

-

Around that time, Sophie was getting a hail from Bronte. It might have been the middle of her Elven History session, but Sophie picked up the imparter anyways, ignoring her mentor’s indigent sputtering. 

“Miss Foster, history is a very important subject!”

Sophie rolled her eyes to herself. “Bronte? What is it? Is there word of Oralie?”

“Slow down, Miss Foster,” Bronte grumped. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, which were rimmed with red, but his grumpy voice was as steady and familiar as ever. “We do not have word of Oralie, but I am hailing about her.”

“Are you- are you talking to a Councillor?” Sophie’s mentor sputtered.

“Yes, I am, so please let me talk!” Normally, Sophie would never be so rude, but this was not a normal time. “What about Oralie?”

“We need your help. Emery has an idea.”

“And you’re agreeing with Emery?” Sophie couldn’t help but ask.

Bronte sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “In this case, his idea isn’t completely idiotic.”

“I heard that, Bronte!” Emery hollered from offscreen.

“Fuck you, Emery!”

“We’re Councillors!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Bronte huffed another sigh. “Anyways. Please come to Eternalia as soon as possible. You can tell your mentor- who sounds rather disgruntled- that this is extraordinarily important Council business. I’ll send you a signed note or something if you need.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sophie turned to her mentor. “Excuse me, sir, but I have to go. Extremely important Council business.” 

“Really?”

“Yes,” Bronte called from Sophie’s imparter. “Trust me, the Council knows the importance of education. But this is more important.”

“Oh- oh okay, then. See you next week,” He said, but Sophie was already grabbing her bag and running for the Leapmaster.

“Bronte, where do I go when I get to Eternalia?”

“The Council secret meeting building- I’ll give you directions.”

She barely even thought to concentrate as she threw herself into the beam of light, re-forming near the Councillors’ castles in Eternalia. “Where now?”

“To your right,” Bronte directed. “That plain building about fifty feet from the end of the row of castles.”

Sophie hurried over there, forced to stop running by the stitch in her side, and banged on the door. 

Bronte opened it mere seconds later, gesturing at her to come inside. He looked even worse in real life than over the imparter, short hair sticking every which way and tunic wrinkled, but his strides were determined when he led Sophie down the hall. 

The rest of the Councillors looked only somewhat less frazzled as Bronte pushed open the door to their meeting room. Even Alina’s hair was out of place. But the determination in Bronte’s strides was mirrored in all of their eyes, and for the first time, Sophie could see how they were truly leaders. 

“So, what’s Emery’s idea?” She asked, wandering inside as Bronte shut the door. 

“Well,” Emery started, “You remember how you’ve been able to use telepathy to call for help? Oralie isn’t a telepath, but if we can reach her, we might be able to figure out where she is and coordinate rescue efforts.”

“Okay, but...we don’t know where in the world she is,” Sophie argued. “I don’t know her mind well enough to reach her from a huge distance, not like Keefe.”

“And that’s where I come in. You see, I’ve been the spokesperson for well over five hundred years,” Emery explained.

“And he gets to poke around in everyone’s heads because of it,” Zarina contributed.

“Exactly. I know my fellow Councillors’ minds as well as I know my own. But I’m not strong enough to reach all the way across the world.”

Sophie was starting to see his strategy. “So if we worked together, I might be able to help you reach Oralie, and you could help me find her mind?”

“Precisely.” Emery’s gaze was piercing. “I haven’t been kind to you in the past, and it might be difficult to trust me. But I’m hoping you’ll try.”

The hope in the Council’s gazes was almost disquieting. 

“For Oralie’s sake,” Sophie told him. “But I want my cognate here.”

“Very well,” Emery said before anyone else could say anything. “Bronte, could you hail him?”

“Why is it always me?” Bronte didn’t wait for a response before he pulled out his imparter again and set about hailing Fitz. 

Fitz arrived ten minutes later, rather out of breath. “What’s going on?”

Emery gave him a quick rundown.

“That’s insane,” Fitz informed him. “But...Sophie is pretty amazing. So I guess it’s worth a try.”

-

Oralie drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing worried voices around her but not having the presence of mind to translate their words. She felt hands lift her, people moving her from the ground to something else, then to a place that smelled sterile. After that, she was conscious for only brief snatches, sometimes feeling hands on her injuries or needles prick her skin.

“Bronte,” she tried to cry, not knowing what was happening only that she needed her friend. “Bronte!” 

He didn’t come.

In her most blurred moments, Oralie found the name on her lips was “Kenric!”, but by the time she was completely unconscious, she remembered his death. 

She woke up fully to sunlight streaming in the window of a room she didn’t recognize, falling across the comforters of a bed she didn’t recognize. “What...what happened?”

No one responded, and Oralie realized she was entirely alone. Naturally, she scanned the room to try and discern where she was. Floral wallpaper, stained. Hardwood floor, somewhat old and warped. Lacy curtains, very dusty. It was clear that this was not the Lost Cities, nor any of the lands of the intelligent species. Which left only one place: the Forbidden Cities.

Oralie blinked, and her memory of last night- last morning, really- came flooding back. Right. She had escaped and walked to the human town. Which meant one of the humans had picked her up and brought her here. 

Just as Oralie was wondering where that human might be now, the door swung open to reveal a rather elderly human woman with smile lines around her mouth and eyes, and hair streaked through with silver. She bustled over to fuss with the comforters, and then startled. 

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Oralie tried to summon up the correct English words, cursing herself for not practicing enough. “I am.”

The human smiled and said something about eyesight and leaving that Oralie didn’t quite catch. “Anyways. What’s your name?”

“I am Oralie. What is yours?” Oralie knew her speech was probably a little stilted, but she cut herself a little slack, given what she had just been through.

“Brenda,” the human- Brenda- answered. “How are you feeling?”

“A little… fuck,” Oralie muttered under her breath. “Tired? English is not my first language.”

“Ah, that’s okay, dearie. Now, the doctor said you should have some food and water.” She said something else that Oralie didn’t catch and hurried out the door.

When Brenda returned, she was carrying a tray of some human food, and there was another human with her. “This is my wife, Susan,” she explained to Oralie.

Oralie nodded, grateful for Brenda’s clear and slow speech allowing her to catch the words. 

“Have some food,” Susan told her, and despite the unfamiliarity of the food, Oralie was happy to obey. 

The duo stayed in the room while she was eating, chattering to each other in English too fast for Oralie to catch. The food itself was not bad, but Oralie would have eaten it even if it was. Finally, she was finished, and Brenda grabbed the tray and hurried off.

Susan turned to Oralie, and Oralie could feel pity and concern radiating off her. Still, Susan’s voice was steady and gentle when she spoke. “Brenda and I did not go to the police. We took you to the hospital, and told the doctors we did not know how you got injured.” 

Despite not knowing what ‘hospital’ or ‘police’ meant in the Enlightened Language, Oralie understood enough to know that there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But,” Susan added, “your wounds look deliberate.” 

“Deliberate?” Oralie asked slowly, trying to get the English syllables through her mouth.

“Done on purpose,” Susan told her. “We were hoping you would tell us who hurt you, so we can make sure you’re safe.”

Oralie took a moment to process the sentence, and then another moment to come up with a lie. “My- my boyfriend. I...ran from his house.” She let the memory of Vespera’s tormenting turn her eyes tearful, selling the lie.

“I’m so sorry. Brenda and I will make sure he never hurts you again, okay?”

Oralie nodded.

“Can you answer two more questions for me?” Susan asked.

Oralie nodded again.

“Who is ‘Bronte’? You were calling for him.”

She didn’t have to think much this time. “My older brother.”

“And ‘Kenric’?”

“My…former boyfriend. Not the bad one. He....” Oralie hesitated, trying to remember all the polite human euphemisms for death. “He passed away.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” Susan stood. “Brenda and I can let you stay here for a bit. Until you’re back on your feet.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

-

Back in Eternalia, Sophie was nervously linking hands with Fitz and Emery, hoping it would work.

Hello? Fitz’s voice asked in her head. I’m past your blocking, and I think I’m past Emery’s too.

He is, Emery’s mind murmured.

Hi, Sophie said to both of them.

Fitz sent her an image of him waving, and she smiled.

Emery offered a polite mental hello.

Right, so, should we get started? Fitz asked.

We need Sophie to do that, Emery told him.

Sophie’s stomach knotted with nerves. Right. Yeah. Okay. I’m going to reach out. If you guys could like, guide me and send mental energy, that would be great.

Fitz sent her a thumbs up.

Emery nodded mentally, somehow. 

Sophie’s first try was utterly overwhelming, humans’ and elves’ thoughts pouring into her brain and any sign of Oralie lost amongst the chaos. She lost contact with Emery maybe five seconds in, and Fitz had to reel her mind back in.

“Ow,” he said out loud. “That was overwhelming.”

Emery was frowning. “I think we lost touch.”

“We’ll try again,” Sophie told the other telepaths.

Thankfully, they both nodded.

Two tries later, they had established that the problem seemed to be that Sophie simply couldn’t keep touch with Emery’s mind. 

“Aren’t there any other telepaths that know Oralie’s mind well enough?” Sophie groaned in frustration, and then winced as Emery looked offended.

“The ideal choice would be Kenric,” Bronte told her. “But…”

“That’s not an option,” Emery finished. “And I doubt any other living telepath has read Oralie’s mind as many times as I have, at least of the ones you’ve worked with.”

“Don’t you lot do like, trust exercises?” Zarina asked. Her feet were propped on the Council’s meeting table, earning her glares from everyone else. 

“I mean…” Fitz glanced at Sophie. “Worth a shot. Although I don’t know how much I trust Emery to catch me falling off a table.”

“I’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Emery argued.

“Yeah, but Bronte’s like, four feet tall,” Sophie told him. “Wait, you’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet?”

Bronte glared at Emery. “Fuck all of you.”

“Maybe you could try some ones that don’t involve tables,” Terik suggested. He looked faintly amused.

“Only if they involve hearing the story of Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Sophie joked.

Emery shrugged. “I mean, that story does involve one of my secrets. But it wouldn’t be fair to Bronte.”

So five minutes later, they were back to trying trust-falls. So far, Fitz and Emery had both caught Sophie, and Sophie had caught Fitz and then proceeded to fall on her ass.

“I think this is a really bad idea,” Emery informed her, but he toppled off the chair anyways.

To her own surprise, Sophie didn’t immediately drop him, although she did lower him to the floor very quickly.

The rest of the Council seemed greatly amused by all this. At least, until they took the exercises back to being mental.

Okay, so we’re all telling each other one non-illegal secret? Fitz asked.

Emphasis on the non-illegal, Emery told him.

Right. Gotcha.

There was a moment of mental silence, and then, I’ll go first. 

Sophie silently thanked Emery for that as he went on. You all know about the miniature ball at the end of the Elite Towers, yes? I went with someone not on my match list. 

Fitz audibly gasped. That’s like, a huge scandal.

I know. Nothing bad ever became of it, obviously, but...it was a big deal to the few people who knew about it then. 

Why? Sophie asked him mentally.

It was a big deal because I went with another aspiring regent, who- well, I won’t tell you his name, but at the time it was quite the scandal for a young and promising Foxfire graduate to be going out with another man.

Sophie didn’t know the elves had homophobia. That’s iconic, honestly.

I wish I could say it was, but only a few people even knew we were together. Emery’s mental voice sounded pensive. And, of course, it’s been a very long time since I last saw him. 

Well I was going to say that one time I put fart a la carte in Biana’s breakfast so she would be gassy for the opening ceremonies, but now I feel kinda silly, Fitz told them. Um. Wait. If we’re being gay….

Sophie tried for a joking tone. Don’t tell me you’re actually gay and not into me. 

No, but Keefe was my first kiss. 

...Do I have permission to tease him about that?

Ask him, not me.

Emery sounded like he was smiling mentally. That’s sweet, actually. 

And I have a lot of questions, Sophie added. But I guess I should say my secret now.

Probably.

Right. Uh. Keeping with the theme, I’m just going to come out now and say that I’m bi. 

Whoa, Fitz said, but he didn’t seem like he thought that was a bad thing. 

Right, Emery told them both. Now that we all understand each other a little bit better, should we try again?

This time, Sophie felt both of the others’ minds right alongside hers as she searched. Fitz was mainly there for support, but Emery’s mind guided her strength across the world until they brushed against a mind that felt both soft like silk and hard like glass.

This is Oralie, Emery’s mind whispered. His mental voice was faint, stretched over the massive distance. 

Sophie made the extra leap to touch Oralie’s mind. Oralie. Oralie!

Silence. And then, a faint, almost disbelieving Sophie?

-

Susan had left the room a few moments before, after Oralie had asked which town she had made it to (some small town that Oralie didn’t recognize, but she memorized the name of just in case). And so Oralie was once again alone with her thoughts, which once again turned to the people she had left behind in the Lost Cities. Sophie, Bronte, even Emery. And of course Kenric. Even now, he never seemed far from her thoughts, although her emotions had become a little more mixed and muddled as the initial surge of grief faded. Still, Oralie supposed she would be missing him forever. Which was a rather depressing thought. While she was making herself sad, she might as well think about Sophie and the hatred radiating from her daughter when they spoke. Oralie had been an empath long enough to know that rage most often stemmed from hurt- but the fact that she had hurt Sophie did not wound her any less than the thought that Sophie hated her. Maybe she would ask Bronte for advice on how to fix this whole damn mess.

Bronte. It had been so natural to say he was her brother, beyond even needing to lie to these humans. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t close enough to qualify, a brother in everything but blood, but Oralie had no idea how he’d feel about having another blonde disaster of a younger sibling. 

The first time a familiar voice entered her head, Oralie thought she had imagined it. She had clearly just been thinking about Sophie too much. 

But the second time, she couldn’t ignore the desperation behind the call. Sophie?

Oralie! There was genuine relief in Sophie’s transmission. Where are you? Are you safe?

I’m safe, for now. I’m in a little town called Wetherby- it’s a human settlement, but it was the closest place to go when I escaped the Neverseen, since I didn’t have a leaping crystal. 

You can get by in a human town?

I speak a little English, Oralie explained. And the people who helped me are very kind- they’re a human couple who lives here. I told them English was my second language and they didn’t question it.

Okay, hang on. I’m transmitting all this info back to Emery. We’ll come get you, Sophie said, and Oralie had never felt more reassured by a sentence from a much younger elf in her life.

Thank you.

Of fucking course. It’s not like we’d leave you there. I mean, for one thing, Bronte would kill me.

Is he okay?

Depends on how you define okay. Sophie sounded like she was choosing her words carefully. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week but he’ll probably be fine once you get back.

Thank you, Oralie thought again. 

I mean, you’re welcome. I’m going to go update everyone else and look for the town you told us, and then we’ll update you again. 

Okay. Tell Bronte and the rest that I said hello?

I will.

-

Sophie blinked her eyes open in time to see Emery face plant onto the table.

“Ow. Fuck.” He sat up, rubbing his head. “That hurt even more than having these idiots scream in my head. Is this what it’s like for you all the time?”

Sophie shook her head. Sure, she had a bit of a headache, but that was more from hearing humans' thoughts while looking for Oralie than anything. “When it’s someone that I know well, it’s not bad.”

“Then I admire the strength of your telepathy.” Emery ground his palms into his eyes for a moment, looking pained, and then straightened up fully. “But! We know where Oralie is.”

“Where is she?” Bronte demanded.

“Some human town in Britain,” Fitz told him. “She escaped from the Neverseen and somehow made her way there.”

Bronte looked almost proud. “That sounds like Oralie. Anyways, how are we going to get her back?”

The rest of the evening was spent finding human maps, researching human clothing, and getting a leaping crystal to the exact coordinates made. Sophie, as primary human expert, had to be present, and the rest of Team Valiant was summoned as well. So while Dex, Fitz, and Biana went to the Forbidden Cities for human clothes and Wylie and Stina pored over the map, Sophie was charged with checking in on Oralie one more time. This time, she didn’t need Emery to guide her as she reached for the other’s mind again.

Hey.

Hi, Sophie, Oralie offered. Any word?

Bronte says ‘you’re a damn idiot and I’m going to fight anyone who hurt you’, and we’ve got a plan to get you home.

That sounds like Bronte. And what would the plan be? 

Well, we’re working on a leaping crystal to where you are, Sophie explained. I’ll go into the city itself to find you, if you describe the house you’re in. 

That sounds smart, with one caveat: why would a teenager be picking up a fully grown adult?

I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something. She almost regretted that when she felt Oralie’s mind flinch.

How do you feel about being a niece? It’s... a long story, but people have been asking questions and my current story is that I ran from my boyfriend- you’ll see why when you get here. But I haven’t mentioned any children.

And you have mentioned a sibling?

I may have had to lie and say that Bronte was my brother. 

Sophie sent a mental groan across the connection. I don’t want to be his kid.

Oralie’s mental voice was too amused for her liking. I know, but you don’t look exceedingly different, and we need a story.

Fine.

Okay. I’ll tell Susan and Brenda- the human couple- that I’ll be going to live with my brother and his kid.

Gotcha. We’ll be there tomorrow morning at nine.

 -

Sophie’s voice faded from Oralie’s head, and Oralie stared at the fluffy comforters, trying not to think about the words ‘I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something’. Rather unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully for her, Brenda came bustling back in. “Hey there! Susan and I are going to eat dinner, do you want to eat with us?”

Oralie considered for a moment and then nodded.

“Great! Let’s go on down.”

So Oralie sat with the human couple, trying the human food cautiously. Brenda seemed happy to carry the conversation with occasional input from Susan or Oralie, which she was grateful for. Even if she didn’t quite catch some of what the human said, she could nod along. 

Eventually, the conversation came around to Oralie’s situation. “I was able to...call? My brother,” Oralie told them. “He says that it is okay for me to live with him and his daughter.”

“Oh, excellent!” Brenda beamed at her. “When will you move in with them? No pressure to leave, of course.”

“He said he would be here tomorrow at nine.”

“That soon! Well, we’ll have to get you some better clothes than that hospital gown.”

Oralie glanced down at the thin fabric and nodded. “Thank you very much, I owe you a lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. The bill from the doctor is the worst of it. You’re not covered by our insurance.” 

“How much do I owe you for that?”

Brenda radiated worry, biting her lip anxiously. “Worry about that when you’ve got a stable place to live.”

Oralie made a mental note to tell Sophie to pay these two back with a ridiculous sum of human money. “Okay.”

The next morning, she woke up early to golden sunlight falling across her bed. For a second, she almost thought she was back in Eternalia, since her room there was always lit by dawn, but the stained floral wallpaper soon dispelled that notion. 

Susan came in perhaps a half hour later, setting some human clothes on the bed. “Here you go. These used to be mine, but I think they should fit you okay.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. There’s a shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall, the one with a blue door, if you want.”

Oralie nodded and got out of bed slowly. Her legs still ached from all the walking, and the rest of her body wasn’t in much better shape, but she was determined to take a shower and stop smelling like the Neverseen hideout and the human medicines. 

That turned out to be easier said than done, but if she avoided the largest wounds, she could get mostly clean. And it helped that Susan’s old clothes smelled mainly like dust. 

Oralie turned and glanced in the mirror, and she hardly recognized herself. Even after only a week with the Neverseen, her face had become leaner. Tougher. There were bruises scattered across every visible section of skin, and several gashes. Her cheeks were bandaged with large bandages, and her hair was wet and tangled. In the human clothes, she looked almost human, but she could also see why Brenda and Susan glanced at her with such worry radiating from them. 

Snapping herself out of her reflection, Oralie borrowed the hairbrush on the bathroom counter to try and de-tangle her hair, which was easier said than done. She mainly managed it, though, with a lot of wincing. At least it didn’t seem like such a rat’s nest.

Once she was done with that, there was nothing to do but wait for Bronte and Sophie to arrive.

-

Bronte and Sophie were currently having a muttered argument over having to pretend to be father and daughter.

“Well it's not like I really strongly desire to be your kid,” Sophie muttered to him as she fumbled through the pile of human clothing the others had brought. 

“And it’s not like I have a strong desire to have you as a child,” Bronte muttered back, but he didn’t seem actually that grumpy.

“What about ‘I’d be proud of you if you were my daughter’?”

“I’m just saying that you’ve accomplished incredible things.”

“That sounds pretty fucking kind to me.”

Bronte huffed. “I am not kind, I am very mean. But...I would be very proud of you.”

Sophie tossed a t-shirt at him. “Here, you can wear this. My human dad had a literally identical one. Plus, can’t you be a proud mentor already?”

“Well yes, I am a proud mentor. Now shush, stop making me look nice in front of the rest.”

“Ha, I’ll ruin your evil reputation.”

“Everyone knows I’m the Councillor not to fuck with,” Bronte grumbled as he took the jeans Sophie was handing him.

“Haha no. That’s like, Emery.”

“Emery has the backbone of a chocolate eclair.”

“I heard that!” Emery shouted from the background.

“Good!” Bronte shouted back.

Sophie, meanwhile, was picking up a beanie. “Here, you can use this to hide your ears.”

“I hate modern human fashion,” Bronte grumbled, but he left to get into the clothes anyways. He looked very strange in jeans and a t-shirt, the bright orange beanie hiding his pointed ears and the casual human clothing greatly reducing how intimidating he was.

“Hi, temporary dad,” Sophie told him. She had gotten into her old human clothes before even coming to Eternalia, and was surprised at how strange the jeans felt after years of elven clothing. 

Bronte just sighed. “How am I doing at the whole ‘looking human’ thing?”

“You gotta slouch a little more. And stop glaring at everyone. You’re a chill dad.”

“I am not,” Bronte muttered, but he softened his stare and posture a little bit. 

“Great!” Sophie told him. “Let’s leap there, shall we?”

“Let’s go.”

-

It was almost ten minutes after nine when a knock sounded from the front door.

Brenda went hurrying over to open it, shooting Oralie a smile as she did. “Oh, hello! Would you be Oralie’s brother and niece?”

“That’s us,” Oralie heard Sophie say in flawless English. “I’m Sophie, and this is my dad, Bronte. He doesn’t speak English super well- we’re an immigrant family.”

“Ah, and you’ve lived in the UK most of your life, Sophie? That makes sense. Anyways, I’m sure Oralie is eager to see you.” Brenda turned back to Oralie. “Your family is here!”

Oralie stood up, giving Brenda her best reassuring smile as she hurried over to the front door. “Sophie! Bronte!” The others may have been dressed in strange human clothes, worry on their faces and tension in their stances, but they were here. They were here.

To her surprise, Bronte rushed forward and threw his arms around her tightly, solidifying for Oralie that he really was real and here. 

“Bronte!” Oralie hugged him back just as tightly, letting herself relax for the first time since Gisela had grabbed her that day. 

“I was so fucking worried,” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Why would you fucking apologize for being kidnapped by the Neverseen?” Bronte pulled back, and Oralie noted the tears glimmering in his eyes. “It’s not your fucking fault and it’s never been your fucking fault. I am going to hurt every one of those dipshits, though.”

“It’s okay, Bronte. I’m okay.”

“Your face is covered in bruises.”

She winced. “Yeah.”

“I’m still going to hurt them.”

“Okay.”

“And you’re going to be okay,” Bronte added quietly. “I’ll make sure none of them lay a hand on you ever again.”

Oralie could feel herself tearing up a little at that, so she pulled him into a hug again. Bronte didn’t protest, only hugged her tightly and let her fall apart for a minute. 

-

Meanwhile, Sophie was having an awkward conversation with an older human couple. “Yeah, we were really worried about my auntie Oralie.”

“Her injuries were pretty bad,” agreed the small, round-faced one who had introduced herself as Brena. “I do hope you’ll bring her ex to justice.”

“We will,” Sophie assured them. “Br- Dad will make sure of that.”

“He sounds like a sweet brother,” the other, Susan, said.

“Yeah, he and my aunt are really close. We don’t really talk much with grandma and grandpa because they live so far away.” “Do you just live with your dad?” “Just the two of us,” Sophie agreed. “It’ll be nice to have my aunt around.”

“I can imagine.” Brenda smiled fondly.

Sophie glanced over at Oralie, who was absolutely covered in bandages. “Are we going to have to pay you for medical bills?” “Well, they put her down as Jane Doe. And we offered to pay the initial fees, but they’ll probably bill you for the rest once they figure out who you are.”

“Gotcha. I’ll tell Dad, we’ll see if Auntie is covered by our insurance. We can pay you back for the initial stuff too-”

“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Brenda told her. “We’re happy to help, and it’s a good thing that Oralie is safe now.”

“Thank you so much.” Sophie made a mental note to have the elves help these two out in some way. 

“Of course, dearie.” 

Susan handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s my phone number, contact the two of us if you need any extra help.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said again.

“Sophie!” Oralie’s voice called. “We are heading home!”

“I better go, but thank you again and I’ll keep in touch,” Sophie promised.

Susan and Brenda waved as she hurried away. 

-

The trio arrived back in Eternalia to a lot of commotion and excitement. 

First, Oralie got swarmed by the other Councillors, who she was surprised to realize were genuinely glad to have her home. They looked in varying states of frazzled, ranging from Alina (perfectly groomed as ever) to Terik (whose hair was sticking straight up). And they greeted her with maybe less dignity than was generally required from the Council. 

“Oralie!” Clarette called. “You absolute fucker!” 

Oralie knew that was her way of showing worry. “Hello, Clarette.”

“Thank goodness you’re back,” Terik said. 

“We were all incredibly worried,” Emery agreed. “Especially Bronte.”

“Shut up, Emery,” Bronte grumbled from next to her.

“I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

Even Liora waved hello, and Noland signed enthusiastically to her about how good it was to see her safe.

Finally, Elwin cut through the commotion, shoving through the Council very politely. “Excuse me, excuse me, but if Councillor Oralie is hurt than you’re going to need a doctor!”

Oralie smiled over at him. “Elwin!”

“Oralie!” He pushed past Emery, looking her up and down. “Oh dear, oh dear. Did they take you to a human hospital?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Right, well I’ll have to start undoing some of that damage, then.”

So Oralie sat on the grass outside of the castles in human clothes as Elwin gave her what felt like a million different elixirs. “Sophie, is this what it’s like to be you?”

“All the time,” Sophie told her with a laugh. 

“This is probably my comeuppance for the time I laughed at Bronte after he got stabbed on accident during a diplomatic mission to the goblins and had to drink some truly disgusting sludge,” Oralie mused.

“I’m still mad about that, you know,” Bronte huffed.

“I know, you hold a grudge.”

“With good reason.”

“I only laughed a little bit,” Oralie protested. “And only after I was certain you were going to be okay. His face at the medicine was so funny, you should have seen it,” she added to Sophie. 

“Oh, I bet.”

Bronte threw his arms up with a huff. “None of you respect me.”

“Nope!” Elwin said cheerfully. “Plus, you turned down an emotional support stuffed animal.”

Oralie made a shocked face, causing Sophie to giggle. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can.”

“Hmm. Well I’ll just have to get you one and sneak it into your castle.”

Bronte grumbled under his breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you the key!”

Oralie couldn’t help but smile at the familiar grumbling. “Too bad, you did.” 

“I’m happy to provide the stuffed animal,” Elwin told her. “I have an alicorn named Mr. Sparkfluff if you want him.”

“That sounds perfect, actually.”

“I should warn you, he’s sparkly.” Elwin handed her a very sparkly stuffed alicorn, and Oralie giggled. 

“He certainly looks it! Alright, Bronte, am I sneaking in at 3 am to leave him on your sofa, or are you just taking him home?”

“It’s not like you won’t show up at 3 am if I don’t,” Bronte grumbled, but he reluctantly took the alicorn. “Does his name really have to be Mr. Sparklefluff?”

“Yes,” Oralie, Elwin, and Sophie all said in unison.

“I guess this is just my life now. Do remember to knock if you come over at some ridiculous hour of the night. Sometimes I’m even asleep.”

“Rarely,” Oralie murmured to herself. She tried to smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll knock when I come bother you about whatever paperwork we’re doing this week.”

“Lovely. If it’s more about ogre-troll relations, I vote we give it to Emery.”

“Is it going to be?”

“Probably.”

“Just going to betray me like that, Bronte?” Emery asked as he wandered over.

“Yes.”

Emery sighed and turned to Oralie, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. “It’s a cruel world out there. Betrayal by your own friends.”

“Cruel indeed.” She laughed, finding it easier to forget the darkness of her Neverseen cell in the bright sunlight of Eternalia.

After a minute, Elwin and Sophie joined in, and Emery chuckled. Even Bronte smiled. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all here and alive and somewhere near okay, and that was reason enough to be happy right now.