#yes it is elder scrolls fanfic i have a good handful of those

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Arc 4: Suffering

815 words

The dust settled gradually, making the stale air of the chamber even harder to breathe. Gethin stayed low, forcing himself to calm down before he faced his next challenge. He wanted nothing more than to find an easy exit from this bizarrely personal hell of a labyrinth, but he knew in the progressively sinking pit of his stomach that it was only going to get worse.

"You've made it further than I thought you would," a thin voice emerged from the darkness ahead, "The Mastermind promised you would be a tough nut to crack. I must admit I'm impressed, Gethin of Valenwood."

Gethin pushed himself to his feet, resisting the urge to cough.

"Who's there?" he called out, "Show yourself!"

"Very well."

Torches burst to life along the walls of the chamber, revealing it to be far smaller than Gethin could have hoped for, given its occupant. The tall Altmer who stood mere paces from Gethin wore loose, faded scarlet robes, emphasizing his unnaturally emaciated frame. His pale golden hair hung in lifeless strands around his long face. His cheeks were sunken and shadowed, his eyes an unnerving blood red. A chill gripped Gethin's spine as he realized what creature blocked his path to escape.

"Vampire..." he whispered, feeling a tremble enter his hands. He clenched them into tight fists to hide it.

"Indeed I am," the Altmer confirmed, "Quite ancient and skilled in the arcane arts, as you have seen from my welcome party, but fear not. I will not harm you until you have been given time to prepare to meet me in combat."

"I'm assuming this isn't optional," Gethin cautioned, not comforted in the slightest by the vampire's words.

"If you want the piece of the mask I guard, you must take it from me by force. I will give you time to find a suitable weapon, but when that time runs out, if you have not reached the final chamber, I will hunt you down wherever you hide and drain you of every drop of blood you possess. Have I made myself clear?"

Gethin swallowed, a lump of fear lodged in his throat, and an icy sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

"Perfectly," he answered, uncomfortably aware that the vampire could sense his every microexpression of mortal terror, "How much time do I have and what am I looking for?"

The skeletal Altmer gave what could be considered a smile, but its sinister intent was far too palpable.

"I will give you thirty minutes to find your way through the passages behind me, retrieve your weapon, and meet me in the final chamber," he explained, "This is more than enough time if you don't dawdle. You must select a weapon suitable to you - I cannot tell you which is the correct choice for obvious reasons. In the final chamber, you will find the piece of the mask shrouded in ash and blood. I will not restrain myself in guarding it. You will need to kill me if you want to escape."

"Sounds straightforward enough," Gethin commented, "I imagine there's a catch somewhere?"

The vampire glided towards him suddenly, faster than Gethin could blink. He towered over him, his sanguine eyes piercing through his very soul.

"Gethin. Has anything in your life been easy or straightforward? Have you ever been able to trust someone's word at face value? Have you not been betrayed by every person you believed in the most? Consider my task. I shall be waiting at the end."

Gethin froze solid as the vampire lingered, but managed to keep his voice steady.

"I have one more question for you before we begin," he said, "How do you know me?"

The vampire chuckled and reached into his robes, producing a bound lock of wavy, honey blonde hair, which he dangled tauntingly over Gethin's head. Gethin's gut wrenched at the sight of it. He would recognize that hair in any context.

Alaia.

"Aside from the research done on your history, I have been following your group at the request of the Mastermind for some time now," the vampire revealed, his voice somehow even airier than before, "I know you care for them, despite the front you put up. I know you care for Alaia most of all, and I will take great pleasure in tearing her apart should you fail here."

"Keep her name out of your filthy mouth," Gethin growled through gritted teeth, surprising himself with his burst of courage.

"Her name won't be the only part of her in my mouth if you don't hurry."

With that, the vampire vanished into a fine mist, which then swept into the doorway at the far end of the chamber and out of sight. Gethin's heart pounded hard against his ribs, his breaths becoming uneven and strained. He had to survive now, if not for his own sake, for Alaia's.

[theothershin]

More Fic Writer Asks

(Using it for original works and fanfics, since OP said that's okay)

the last sentence you wrote "Raising his hands in surrender, Gunther said, 'Take me to Arthur.' " - Heroically Foul

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring "And so he was loved because he was good at operating the kingdom, but only we know his black heart and dark ambitions." - Preservation of Those Three: Tybalt Arthur Verrell

how you feel about your current WIP Confidant. I feel like I'll get this done in a year or two, and well. There'll need to be rewrites and edits, but not much. Excited to put my thoughts down and share it with the world.

a story idea you haven’t written yet What if Romeo left Juliet, and she decided to marry Paris, and discovered he isn't all that bad after all?

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP "But how to get to him?" - A Dream, a Heroically Foul side story

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you) More, been, and one. Not very interesting, but then again, I just barely began.

your preferred writing fonts Lobster for titles; Bad Script for chapter titles; Architect's Daughter for narration.

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for… Help, video game fandom Aragami 2. it's a very in-depth and detailed version of one of the quests in the game where you play the main character, Kuro, or Warrior, going mad with anger and the desire for revenge - but you have lots of freedom. I took away that feeling of freedom, to show that he was doing what he was doing automatically, out of obligation, rather than because he really wanted to. I would write a sequel and even prequel cuz the game has great moments that would be great if narrated.

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted? A little under a week, I believe.

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it? Years. Let's leave it at that, yeah?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday Previously called My Lord, now renamed A World of Shadows, and more names pending, the fic is for the fandom, The Saga of Darren Shan/Cirque Du Freak, by tween Master of Horror Darren Shan. In the original book, two sides are fighting a war, and the fate of both sides lie with the main character, Darren Shan(has the same name as the author), and his friend, Steve "Leopard" Leonard. Darren, warned that his victory would eventually cause him to stray from righteousness in arrogance, sacrifices himself to kill Steve. In my fic, he kills only Steve - not himself. It explores Steve's mentor, Gannen Harst, as he tries to deal with his friend's death, his allegiance, losing the war, and his own brother - all while Darren slowly begins to lose himself to the dark side.

a trope you’re really into right now Medieval power struggle. Yes, I know. I told my sister just the day before writing this, "They're annoying in real life, but..." and then realised that isn't true. Sure, they can be annoying, but they interest me. Look into the morality/psychology, especially when there's sour kings who've gotten the wrong hand and are right but also wrong.

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim. The lore is vast and endless, and in a story where the main character's personality doesn't already exist yet they aren't just a blank-looking person and there's space to build a unique personality for them and act on it, there's lots of space for a fanfic.

where do you get your inspiration? Everything - literally.

favorite weather for writing Spring weather - it's ample time to sit down and write, but the weather itself is lovely. The birds are chirping in the sky, and sometimes they swoop down for a few seconds to grace you with the sight of their feathers; the ocean waves(I especially would love to write by the waves) crash against the rocks and sometimes splash on your face - but that's okay, because it feels good, and the bright, warm sun dries your book - and the sounds of nature helps you think.

favorite place to write I'm generally not allowed to sit and write when we're out and about, so on my desk. There's the most privacy, and I've written there so much that there's a vibe.

talk about your writing and editing process It changes over time and depending on which story it is and what type of story it is. I write fanfics between my originals - in school, between chapters, during writer's block for a specific story - and for originals, I write them every chance I can. I write down ideas for them whenever I can and have the notes stored away. When the time comes, I take out the notes and pour over them, changing them according to what I believe should be different and so on... I write down most of the events(then gradually all of them) and write them out of order(choosing from writing prompts), then put them together and read them in order. Then I edit them in order.

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic I don't keep them, though it would be cool to be able to look back at it. I sort of keep originals, but I haven't published any yet.

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic Prison. In my fanfic, Timeline, the main character goes to jail and rots away there until the end of his life.

in what year did you publish your first fic? 2021

when did you publish your most recent fic? 6 Jan 2024

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that? Sometimes I worry, sometimes I don't. I write for myself. I got upset by some hateful comments once upon a time, and told my sister about it after following the criticism that they were saying, and she told me that they were wrong, and that they were only being hateful. I realise that since then, if the comment isn't nice, I block the comment and decide whether I'll adhere to it or not. I'm not a popular writer so I barely get comments and/or kudos, but when I do, it strengthens my resolve to be a great writer, but I don't let it affect me beyond that.

pick three keywords that describe your writing Messy but Organised

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative? Organise notes. Read stuff. Play games. Do anything but be creative.

besides writing, what are your other hobbies? Reading novels and non-fiction. Playing games.

are you able to write with other people around? No. I don't know why. but the words fly away from me.

your favorite part of the writing process When everything's clicking together and my creative drive is never-ending and I get into flow.

your least favorite part of the writing process When the creativity dries up.

how easy is it for you to come up with titles? Not easy at all. I do it as I go along, but usually I get the right one when I'm done writing it.

share a fic you’re especially proud of Talk, for the novel series The Demonata by Darren Shan. It was inspired by Zukos_Honour and it's simple, to the point and savours the slowburn-one shot feels.

[varricmancer]

Intertwined | 1

*** Cross-posted on AO3 *** 

Pairing: Farkas x F!OC

Summary: A child of Mara was a soul blessed and bound to its mate for all eternity. Elizabeth Williams is summoned to Mara as a lost soul, only she's from modern America and her mate is somewhere in the wilds of Skyrim.

A/N: Yes, I know I have other works that need to be finished, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. So here we go. I'll probably change the summary eventually, because right now it sounds cringy and childish, but I really wanted to get this out.I LOVE Elder scrolls and I've been playing the games since I was little, reading everything I could get my hands on, play ESO regularly even. I'm not saying I'm an expert, because I am SO not ( I have a horrible memory ), but I'm saying that I'll try not to mess up the world too much. If there are things that I can't figure out in ES lore, I'll probably fill it in with Norse lore so be warned ahead of time.I hope you enjoy this story. I LOVE Farkas and I wanted to start my first venture into writing ES with him. In my head this is going to be a huge series with different couples as soulmates. Vilkas is going to get his story after I finish this one ;)

***

When she had gone to bed that night, nothing about her day had been different from any other.  

She’d come home from her shift at the restaurant where she’d been working for ten years feeling like her back and feet were going to fall off. She’d taken a long soak in the tub as she thought about her job and how much of a dick her boss was for not giving her the raise he’d promised - or the interview for the sous chef position. She’d bet her life savings he was going to offer it to the incredibly annoying fake blonde Commis Chef they’d hired just last year, only because she kissed his ass and sent him flirty smiles all the time. Probably more, who knows.

After her bath she’d eaten a fast and easy dinner of kimchi fried rice using leftover rice and bacon, with two whole eggs because she deserved it.

Then she’d gone to bed with some crime show on in the background that she hadn’t even paid attention to and had fallen asleep quickly due to exhaustion. She'd been too tired to even think about playing one of her games.

And now - now she was currently experiencing one of the weirdest dreams she’d ever had in her life. Maybe it was her mind trying to cope with stress or just the result of eating bacon before bed.

It wasn’t so much the setting that was odd. It was actually really pleasant. A vast meadow filled with plants and wonderful smelling flowers that she’d never seen before. Butterflies flit through the air around her and all the colors were so vividly amped up they were practically glowing. Little creatures that she didn’t recognize would often peer around a bush or run along her path, watching her curiously. How odd that none of them seemed very afraid.

She followed a little stone pathway, simply strolling along as she admired her surroundings. When she’d read The Secret Garden as a girl, she’d often pictured a place like this. Calm and beautiful. Of course, she’d always added elaborate stone kitchens because even in her imagination she had to be cooking something.

Suddenly, strange balls of golden light began to appear and float around her. But somehow, she wasn’t worried or afraid. They felt...familiar, almost.

“You have finally arrived. Welcome, Elizabeth.”

She turned towards the voice, finding a strange-looking but strikingly beautiful woman standing near a large statue. She almost looked like someone cosplaying or attending a ren fair with her medieval clothes. She kind of reminded her of an older version of the Princess from Braveheart, actually. She was smiling down at her in an almost motherly fashion and Elizabeth thought for a moment that she should find it weird how tall the woman seemed to be. Nearly nine feet at least. That was weird, right? And was she...glowing?

“Where am I?”

“In my home. I am Mara and I called you here to correct a wrong.”

The only Mara she knew was from a video game. “A wrong?”

The woman gestured towards the golden orbs that continued flying around them both slowly like they were happy to be in her presence.

“These are the souls of my children waiting for their turn to return to their beloved. While many decide to simply live one lifetime and then rest their souls in the realm of their choosing, there many still that are bonded to another and choose to live again with each other.”

“Soulmates. Yeah, I’ve heard the concept in fanfics and cheesy television. What does that have to do with me?” Elizabeth rolled her eyes, playing along somewhat. Of course, if this had been real she would probably be scared off her ass right now, but since this was a dream she could be as sassy as she wanted.

The woman merely folded her hands together and graced her with a patient smile, making her feel like as ass.

“You are one of those bonded souls. However, I believe that either someone disrupted your cycle or stole you from me completely because you were not only in the wrong timeline but in the wrong realm as well.”

Elizabeth’s heart ached with longing. A soulmate...for her?

Even her dreams mocked how lonely she was.

The woman turned and waved her hand and suddenly a big orange...thingy...appeared. Kinda looked like a certain eye. Her dream was pulling out all the stops today, huh? She hadn’t even watched Lord Of The Rings in years. She guessed it also kinda looked like an Oblivion gate from her Elder Scrolls games.

“I have opened the door for you to return to your mate. I am sorry that it took so long. You must have been lonely.”

Elizabeth swallowed thickly, thinking back on all of her wasted years with the wrong people. On her mom. On her brother that she couldn’t find.

“Yeah.”

Somehow the woman suddenly seemed to become smaller, although still towering over her. She leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Elizabeth’s forehead before guiding her gently towards the door. It looked more like a gate to hell than something that would lead to anything good.

“Go forth, child of Mara, and be reunited with your love.”

Elizabeth Williams exhaled shakily and stepped through the blazing door before she realized the woman had never even told her how to find her soulmate or what his name was.

Good thing this was only a dream.

***

[holy-crap-i-am-russell-adler]

@cayde-6 is my Destiny blog so if that replies to you instead of this one then that's why.

Edit: To those who want to be assholes about me thirsting over fictional characters y'all must be fun at parties, like is it a crime to like something because y'all seems to think so. Yes I know damn well that not a single one of them would even tell me the time of day but I don't have any chance in real life so let me fucking dream.

Also Adler is one of the tamer characters I thirst over.

Update 11/3/21

For those having an anxiety/panic attack I am completely open to helping distract you via DM, Discord or even Xbox/a crossplay game.

People who are under the age of 18 years old, I thought about it and I highly apologize but I really struggle with having no filter, I am sorry but I can't. I'm positive there's others in this community who will happily talk to you but I don't want to stress myself out watching what I say because it's one thing to slip up in front another adult but I internally beat myself up for slipping up in front of kids, I don't need to get anxiety when you're the one that needs to be calmed down

Anyone 18+ y'all have full range of things but if your uncomfortable with swearing let me know so I can senor myself as best as possible (warning I will slip, I have basically zero filter).

List of games I own, all on Xbox One:

Various Call of Duty games (Great at zombies, okay at Warzone and it's clones, I haven't played regular PvP for a long time.

Destiny 1 and 2 (Raids and Grandmasters are a if I feel like it and usually I don't, but don't be afraid to ask because while I suck at them I'm a Titan main that is all terrain and have almost all the exotics. Sorta okay at Trials of Osiris, Gambit I'm a Dredgen with a 6 times gilded title. Normal Crucible I'm decent with but not sweat level.

Minecraft, Minecraft Xbox One Edition I can play console's hard mode without sound if that gives any experience of how I am. Online realms I never went onto. Xbox one Edition snow and flying I was horrible at.

Green Hell (This one I'm good at and currently have saves at day 20+ except for one that got just broke somehow.)

Ark Survival Evolved (I got over my trauma but I have stupidly bad luck with tames.)

Games I can download as they're already in my Xbox, can download free games in Xbox store too. I don't know if all of these are multiplayer because I game share with my dad and he's the one who's download most of these so be aware I probably don't know how to play.

I almost own all Resident Evil games and I believe the only one I currently don't have is Code Veronica.

Elder Scrolls Online. I'm a tank Nord and can run a few things before my carpal tunnel kicks in.

Yu-Gi-Oh Duel Links

Battlefield 4

NHL 19

Madden 16

Madden 18

NBA 2K 20

Neverwinter (whichever update it's on)

Red Dead Redemption II

Smite (whichever update it's on)

Tom Clancy's The Division 2

There a few more but I believe they're single player.

Interests are: Call of Duty, Resident Evil, Pokémon, Yu-Gi-Oh, Beyblade, Sherlock Holmes, Supernatural (have stopped on season 9), Doctor Who (need to watch 12's last episode then start 13's), Five Nights at Freddy's, Warrior Cats books by Erin Hunter, Voltron (no ships please), World War II, Spirit Animals book series from scholastic (need to finish series 1 and 2), art, Jurassic Park/World, Power Rangers, Team Fortress 2, Digimon, Naruto (haven't watched them all, only watched a handful of Baruto episodes).

I like the Disney Twitches movies, the Lion King movies (know a bit about The Lion Guard). I do like the Cars movies.

Am familiar with the MLP that just ended with Twilight Sparkle but haven't seen all the episodes, I usually play where's Doctor Whooves (the pony version of The Doctor from Doctor Who.)

I collect crystals because pretty rock is pretty.

BIG NO GO ARE SPIDERS AND ANY IDEAS OF BURNING ALIVE FANFICS, NO CANCER JOKES!

[afni-fics]

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 11: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 2)

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 11: Bleak Falls Barrow - Interior (part 2) by C_R_Scott Chapters: 11/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read Summary:

Deeper into the Bleak Falls Barrow goes Tim and Lucien.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

-------------------------

As Tim led the way further into the depths of Bleak Falls Barrow, his mind began to wander as he examined the ruins and artifacts he found with Lucien. 

"I wonder what my parents would have thought of exploring a place like this," he thought to himself as he picked up a book from a nearby table and swept a thick layer of dust from the cover. Idly, but carefully, he opened the book and turned a few pages before closing it again and offering it to Lucien. The scholar cooed over it with delight and began rambling about the tome's age, history, and how well preserved it was. 

Tim smiled sadly as his inner thoughts lingered on his memories of his biological mother and father, Janet and Jack Drake. "Mom and Dad always seemed happier when they were on archeological digs than they ever were at home in Gotham." The young man moved on a little further down the hall, zeroing in on some new carvings that were hidden behind a curtain of spider webs. "Even with the bandits and the death traps, this has been interesting and kinda fun. I wonder... If I could've spent time with them on digs like this... Could we have been a better family?"

His thoughts were interrupted when a new voice echoed from deeper down the hall. 

"Is... is someone coming? Is that you Harknir? Bjorn? Soling?"

"Did you hear that?" Lucien asked as he put the book into his backpack.

Tim nodded as he nocked another arrow to his bow and began to follow the sound of the new voice down the hall. Once he got to the end of the hall, the serious expression on his face deepened. 

"Well, shit..."

Lucien nodded in agreement. "I suppose the ancient Nords who built that trap earlier had to get their spider venom from somewhere."

The entrance into the next large room was covered in curtains of spider webs from floor to ceiling. As Tim tried to peer deeper into the room beyond the curtains, while he couldn't see any giant Frostbite Spiders, he could see lots of web covered skeever and human sized victims littering the walls and floors along with lots of large round pods that Tim reasoned looked like giant spider egg-sacs. He felt a shiver race up his spine.

"Spiders... Why is it always spiders?"

He turned to Lucien and told him to wait there while he went to investigate. Cautiously, Tim crept into the room, cutting a small piece of webbing so he could try to slip in without alerting the creator of the web.

Unfortunately, even those small precise movements were not enough to go completely undetected. Tim froze in the shadow of a nearby pillar as a gigantic Frostbite Spider lowered itself ominously from the ceiling by a single slender web. The beast was far larger than what he'd experienced in the caves beneath Helgen. The body of the spider was easily comparable to that of a large horse, and the addition of the eight long spiny legs seemed to double, even triple its visual volume and height as it moved about the room, looking for the intruder upon its nest.

Fortunately for Tim, it was about that time that owner of the voice who's led him here started screaming bloody murder and getting the spider's attention.

"Hey you! You've got to get me outta here!" an elf trapped in a wall of webbing shouted at the top of his lungs. "Kill the damned thing before it eats us both!"

As soon as the spider turned its full attention to the elf, Tim immediately pulled the arrow back and let it fly at the spider's now exposed abdomen. Though the arachnid was clearly armored with a thick exoskeleton, from the back Tim's arrow was able to slip between the layers of the abdominal plates.

The spider gave off a horrible screech and raised up on six of its legs as it spun around to turn its full attention on Tim.  However, it got another arrow in one of the fleshy parts of its mandibles before Tim dashed off to the side. Tim knew he needed to keep his distance from the spider if he was to have any chance of killing the beast.

Suddenly, he stumbled and hit the floor hard on his left side. Tim bit back a cry as pain raced up his burned left arm. A quick look at his feet revealed a fresh glob of sticky webbing that effectively glued him in place as the wounded spider stalked toward him. Tim struggled to free himself, but it was no use! The webbing was too sticky and stretchy. He'd never free himself in time.

The spider was practically on top of him now, rising up and exposing its fangs when out of nowhere a stream of icy shards slammed against the spider from the back. The spider rose up again in pain and screeched. The momentary distraction was what Tim needed. Quickly, he pulled out one of his daggers with his good right arm and lunged upward, stabbing it into the spider's exposed sternum, burying the blade into the creature up to its hilt.

Screeching, the spider scrambled backward both away from Tim and the the constant shower of icy shards. But it was too late for it. Within moments, the giant beast fell down dead to the Barrow floor.

Tim stared at the dead spider as he struggled to catch his breath and calm his racing heart. 

"That was too close."

Tim moved his gaze and looked at Lucien. His eyes were drawn to the scholar's hands, which were covered in a sheen of frost. "That ice... was you?"

Lucien nodded as he rubbed his hands together and breathed into them to warm them. "I told you I knew a few spells. Unfortunately, I haven't had much practice using them in actual combat." As of to explain further, Lucien aimed a hand at the spider corpse and seemed to try and fire another blast of cold at it. However, whatever spell he was trying to cast seemed to sputter out at his fingertips. Lucien winced, as if he had a headache. "I'm really quite useless as a mage." Then he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a vial of blue liquid.

"You saved my life," Tim said as he pulled out his second dagger and used it to cut away the webbing at his feet. "I wouldn't call that useless." Tim tilted his head at the liquid Lucien was now drinking. "What's that?"

Lucien paused. "You don't know what a mana potion is?"

Tim suddenly became more focused on the blade as he freed his feet. "I'm guess it's a mage thing?"

"Yes," Lucien said tentative. "I forget you have no experience with magic. It helps me regenerate the energy I use to cast spells more quickly. Kind of like healing potions, but for mages. Speaking of which," Lucien pulled out another vial, this time filled with a now familiar red liquid. "Do you need this?"

Tim almost said no. However, as he rose to his feet, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his left elbow straight up to his shoulder. With a murmur of thanks, Tim took the vial and drank its contents as Lucien went forward to speak with the trapped elf in the webs. It was still a strange sensation to him, feeling the healing liquid work its magic to mend his injuries....

Or at least attempt to mend them. 

While the pain had been dulled, there was still a deep ache in the muscles of his upper arm. Tim tested his left hand grip on the blade of the dagger he tried to retrieve from dead spider. With a grimace and a sense of trepidation, Tim noticed that he just didn't have the strength to pull the dagger free, not without a solid spike of pain that forced him to release the blade before he could hurt himself further. Then he switched his hand and found he could easily remove the dagger with his right.

"Hey! Get back here!" 

Tim turned to Lucien, who now stood before an empty doorway where the trapped elf once hung. 

"What happened?" Tim asked as he sheathed his dagger and picked up his bow.

"That Bosmer bandit ran off!" Lucien said in an offended tone. "Apparently he's got some artifact that's a key to the secrets of this Barrow. Something about a claw and a door in a place called the 'Hall of Stories'. He said he'd show us what it all meant if I cut him down."

"So you cut him down."

"So, like an idiot, I cut him down, and he took off almost as soon as his feet hit the ground." 

Tim smiled reassuringly at Lucien and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry... We'll catch up to--"

Suddenly, they heard a blood curdling scream reverberate through the halls from the direction the elven bandit had run. 

"I think something has already caught up to him," Lucien remarked uneasily...

-------------------------

Warning: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note1: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

Note2: Part 2 of Tim and Luci's trek into the Barrow. Here they have their run in with the giant Frostbite Spider and "Arvel the Swift". In the first screenshot you notice the book is glowing. This is from a mod called Unread Books Glow SSE (https://www.nexusmods.com/skyrimspecialedition/mods/20679). This is a brilliant mod because any books you haven't read yet glow, and the color changes depending on if they're quest books, skill books, spell books, or just books for character/clutter/something interesting to read. It's an extremely useful mod for any playthrough of Skyrim!

#elder scrolls dc#fanfiction#tim drake#skyrim fanfiction#batfam fanfic#red robin#batfam#crossover#lucien flavius#wip#afewnovelideas

[ariannjs]

FAKE HAPPY | A SasuSaku FanFic One Shot

So I recorded a cover for Paramore's "Fake Happy" (full vid here) last week and since my initial plan for #SasuSakuTwitFest2020's Day 2 is not yet finished, I thought of writing this fic connected to the song instead😬

For #SasuSakuTwitFest2020 Day 2: Connected

"You see it's easy when I'm stomping on a beat

But no one sees me when I crawl back underneath."

-Fake Happy by Paramore

Disclaimers: 

-I do not own Naruto nor Paramore. 

-Situations stated are based on general possible experiences of some people especially during this time, though most are familiar and personal to me also.

Trigger warnings: Anxiety Attack. Depressive thoughts.

Ending in angst is not my purpose for this, it's actually the other way around❤️ but if you think it would not be helpful for you to continue reading this fic at this time due to the trigger warning, it's definitely okay. 

However, please do NOT miss the author's note in the end🤗 

Much love,

A

P.S. Here's to the #FewButTrue people that see the signs and reach out to us at just the right time even though we look fine on the outside.

––

It was supposedly her rest day, the one thing that she has looked forward to all throughout her jam packed week. Yet much to her dismay, despite her body being rested, her mind had other plans. Sakura could barely remember the number of times she has thrown her phone on the bed in a span of four hours.

It was a lot to take in.

Earlier today, it was announced that the number of positive cases for the pandemic has skyrocketed in Iwa, yet the council has decided to partly lift the quarantine there, increasing the people’s exposure to the virus as they try to go back to their normal lives before all these. It didn’t make sense.

Few moments later, a short video went viral on Twitter, wherein civilians from Ame flocked in front of their Kage’s Tower to complain about the lack of relief goods distributed for them in the past month. A month! To think that all of the Hidden Villages had been under quarantine for three months now and there were so many people in dire need of supply for their basic needs. It didn’t make sense.

There was also a reliable national media company that was shut down by Kiri’s council, at such a time as this wherein a credible source of news and updates was a need for everyone. Sadly, many employees have lost their job in the process, amidst the uncertainty caused by the pandemic which was the main issue their council should’ve focused on to begin with. Again, it didn’t make sense. 

What surprised her was the amount of facebook posts that disclosed irrational killings from members of a huge clan in the Sound, an issue that has been ongoing yet remained an elephant in the room for how many years. It broke her heart seeing the messages of relatives who were screaming for the justice of their murdered family member through typewritten words. Others even had videos of themselves with placards containing their stand on the issue. She couldn’t imagine how terrifying it must be to be there right now, what with the virus still lingering around them and the possibility of being shot on the spot just because you wanted to fight for your people. The Sound’s council continued to wash their hands. And yes, it didn’t make any sense at all.

But the last thing that struck her nerve was the decree that Konoha’s council of elders has released a few minutes ago, wherein any form of appeal or complaint by the people – whether via peaceful protest or a mere social media post – could lead to them being suspected as insurgents, which would then result to authorities having the right to detain them without a warrant of arrest. 

And just like that, the fact that the entire world was facing a deadly pandemic has gone down the drain. Honestly? Sakura didn’t even know what else makes sense right now.

She screamed against her pillow and continued lying on her bed. Her head hurt. Her eyes were puffy. Her heart was palpitating. And her hands began to shake as she breathed heavily in the confines of her bedroom. 

There were pain, frustration, anxiety, fear, anger, guilt, confusion, and so many other emotions bubbling inside her that they started to weigh her down even physically. Besides, it wasn't the first time that Sakura broke down during the twelfth week of quarantine. Everything externally and internally was just too much to bear these days.

She thought it would be nice to return to social media after being away from it for a week, leaving her stuck with the messaging apps that she kept active only because she needed them for work. But she was totally wrong on all levels. 

It was nice that she became informed about the latest news, yet she now learned that indeed, too much exposure on social media wasn't helpful for her at all. She needed to take a break, or maybe lots of them.

It took a while before the tension in her body ebbed, and when it did, it was the best feeling in the world.

Still, extensive exhaustion filled Sakura from the inside out, leaving her with no more tears to shed as she sat up after a 14-minute nap. These days, naps kept her going, though they weren't really enough. She was glad the rampage in her brain paused somehow but she wished it could've been like that for hours. Well, it's better than not being able to sleep at all.

Moments later, her eyes widened due to the sudden vibration of her phone. There was an incoming message. And she couldn't help but feel on edge once more as she felt frozen in place. 

Please don't let it be my boss. Please don't let it be about my presentation! Or wait, is it mom? Are they okay?

Sure, she could've stopped herself from getting her phone with her now sweaty hands and checking the SMS considering that it was her rest day, but the nagging guilt inside her about saying no to anything asked of her overpowered her senses. And there was also the thought that it could be an emergency, she didn't want anything to fail just because she didn't respond immediately.

With her decision being final, Sakura took three deep breaths before opening the text that she received, yet what she saw on her screen made fresh tears trickle down her face once again.

Sasuke Uchiha:

I'm just here, okay? Let me know if you want me to call you.

Sakura didn’t expect to receive such a heartwarming message at the exact moment she needed  it. She hasn’t seen Sasuke ever since Konoha imposed a nationwide quarantine and they haven’t even talked online for weeks, but for him to suddenly message her with such reassurance as if he knew that she needed to hear it, it made her feel like they had no distance between them for months. 

She read the message once more, and as she parsed the two sentences like it’s from a language unfamiliar to her, it slowly felt like the dark cloud above her head began dissipating somehow.

A part of her hesitated in responding to him. She didn’t want to sound needy. She didn’t want to be a bother, because for sure, Sasuke also has baggage of his own.

However, she realized that he was not the kind who would ever think of her that way. Never did he look at her with judgmental eyes, only with concerned ones. And that was enough for her to trust that it wasn’t something to be guilty about if she accepted his generous offer of being a listening ear that night.

Sakura didn’t bother typing a message anymore, instead, she scrolled through her contacts and called his number, fingers slightly twitching in nervousness. Because what if he's suddenly busy? What if he's not really interested in what she would say? And what if he would change his mindset about her after whatever she'd be able to share to him tonight?

Her mind was bombarded with tons of "what ifs," but when she heard a gentle "Hello?" on the other line, she was unable to stifle another cry.

"Sakura, how are—?"

Her sobs became a little louder, and she was worried that Sasuke would end up cutting the call.

"It's alright, Sakura. Go on, just release that. I'll stay here."

Yet he surprised her again. She didn't know how many minutes passed by as she just teared up with Sasuke silent on the other line. As her cries kept going, relief slowly entered her system like it was something she had never frlt before. She didn't know she needed to cry with somebody until she called Sasuke. She realized that it was so much different than when she was having a breakdown on her own.

"Are you feeling better somehow?" Sasuke asked when her muffled cries subsided.

"Y-yes. I guess."

"You know you can tell me anything." 

She heaved a sigh, nodding her head as if Sasuke would see her. "Thank you, Sasuke."

"Don't thank me yet. What happened?"

And then Sakura told him everything, from the terrifying news that astounded her that afternoon up to the messy details of her hectic week. 

She told him about how worried she was for her parents who were in the province, wherein the number of those affected by the virus was increasing day by day. And as much as she wanted to help them with their food supply, she felt helpless that she couldn't do much while she was here in the city. 

She also told him about how she felt like she was merely moving in a tiny box instead of flourishing in her profession, how it seemed like she was going nowhere in life despite being at the ripe age of 27. 

She mentioned regarding her presentation that she wasn't really happy about, because it wasn't something that she wanted to do. And even though she tried her best in working on it, she already knew that her boss would not even recommend it to be approved.

Speaking of her boss, she also expressed to Sasuke how the mere presence of her boss made her feel so small, like she was a physical representation of a failure. And just thinking about having no choice but to stay in that company, especially considering the pandemic situation, saps her of the little motivation in life that she has left.

Sakura still had a lot to say. But even she could not express and understand them yet. So she just ended her words with the truth that she has never felt so alone until right now.

That's when Sasuke spoke a full statement again other than his cues that he was listening earlier. "I'm so sorry that you are going through all these, Sakura. You're right, things could've been better so you didn't have to end up feeling the way you do right now. But you know that I'm here, right? And it's not even just me. The dobe is there. Also the rest of Rookie 12. Sakura, it may not feel like it but I want you to remember that I'm here. I never left and I never will."

Another stray tear escaped Sakura's eyes. "That means so much to me, Sasuke. That means so much. Thank you."

"Always." She could hear the smile in his voice. "I'm glad you were able to share all that with me. I hope it was helpful."

For the first time that day, Sakura found the urge to smile. "It was, really. I'm sorry it was too lengthy and messy, though. I...I honestly don't really know how to express everything. My mind's just so clouded right now."

"Hn. It doesn't matter, Sakura. It's okay if it's lengthy and messy, as long as you were able to let it out."

There was just silence after that for Sakura didn’t know what else to say. Even silence with Sasuke was comforting, so she just allowed that comfort to consume her continuously, never wanting it to end.

“Sakura?” 

“Hmm?”

“You’re not weak.”

Gasping a bit, Sakura could feel the tears starting to brim her eyes again, but this time, not due to the negativities inside and around her. 

Sasuke continued, “You’re not a physical representation of a failure either. You're made for so much more. I’ve seen you succeed in so many things, Sakura. And we all fail, but our failures don’t define us. Your failures or what you think as shortcomings don’t define you at all, you hear me?”

“Y-yeah.” She sniffed and wiped a tear with the back of her hand. “Sasuke, you’re making me cry again!” Sakura slightly giggled amidst her tears, and Sasuke could imagine that if he was beside her, she had probably slapped him hard enough on his arm while saying this.

He let out a chuckle. “Now look at you, you’re already laughing.”

“Your fault.” She huffed playfully. 

“Not sorry at all, then.” Sasuke grinned on his own. For him, he didn’t even do much, but for Sakura, it felt like Sasuke had pulled her out of a deep trench by simply being there.

There was one question that lingered in her mind ever since she received his text message. And so she asked him before they even ended the call. “Uhm...Sasuke? How did you know? I mean...why did you message me? How did you get the idea that I wasn’t feeling my best this week?”

Quietness filled the other line for a few seconds. “Intuition, I guess. You’re like that with me also, aren’t you?"

It was true, there were instances before that Sakura was the one who reached out first, as if it was a coincidence that he wasn't at ease with something by the time she talked to him. The only difference was that, during those times, they saw each other often, unlike now.

Sasuke added in a softer voice, "This wasn't the first time, Sakura. Maybe – no – I believe it’s because we’re…” 

Realization hit Sakura even though Sasuke didn’t even mention the word. And then she beamed, because honestly, she felt that too. They were connected, and no quarantine could affect that connection that they had.

Sakura muttered with a smile, “I believe that too, Sasuke.”

That night, she was able to sleep with a light feeling for the first time within the week. All thanks to Sasuke for reaching out when she started crawling underneath.

–––

June 2020 (c) AriannJS

–––

Hello. I don't know what this fic made you feel. But if you've made it this far, thank you. I'm proud of you, not only for reaching the end of this fic but also for surviving up until now❤️

I know it hasn't been the best time in the world, literally, but it is my desire and prayer to hopefully bring a bit of comfort to you guys while or after you read my works.

Here, Sakura had the assurance that Sasuke is there for her. For us, it's really amazing if we have a few trusted friends like that whom we could open up to, but sadly, some of us probably don't have anyone we're comfortable to confide with at all. But can I encourage you with this?🤗

Maybe your friends are busy. Or maybe your trust has been broken by so many people that you find it so difficult to open up now, but you also know full well that you kinda need a Sasuke to your Sakura especially these days. So let me share this with you...

"Cast (throw) all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you." - 1 Peter 5:7 ❤️

Here's a thing, God loves you and cares for you so much, and that's the reason why you could throw the whole weight of your anxieties upon Him. He will listen. He always does, even when at times it doesn't feel like it. And whatever it is that you would tell Him, it wouldn't change the fact that He loves you just the same🥰 So go, throw it all to Him now, I pray that you personally experience the peace that transcends all understanding once you do so❤️

On the other hand, I know some of us have diagnosed conditions and the situations around us are definitely not helping us recover further mentally. I'm not an expert but I really hope we could help one another during this time so here are a few reminders:

If you have medications, take them regularly and make it a priority. If needed, it's even better that you restock early regardless of the quarantine status in your place. I actually almost forgot taking my meds twice this week! Hahahuhu. But thank God I was working on this fic in the middle of the night so I still got to take it before sleeping😅

Make sure to take breaks even short ones within the day, especially during work days. Take a nap. Play an instrument. Eat. Read fics. Watch an episode of an animé. Anything that would fill your tank so you could be pumped up somehow as the day continues.

Lastly, don't hesitate to seek help from your trusted friends. Please, don't. You are loved. You are not a bother. You are worth listening to. You are valuable. You are made for so much more.

I may be a stranger but you can also contact me if you need someone to talk to🤗 I have the same username on IG and Twitter too! Sorry this was such a long author's note, but yeah, let's keep fighting one day at a time, alright?✊🏻

And if indeed you have a diagnosed mental condition, here's what my doctor has told me this week, you are not weak. Your condition is a part of you, but it is NOT all of you😭❤️ 

Thank you for dropping by. God bless!

-A

[bloody-fists-beating-hearts]

It’s a Fallout76/Bethesda rant

Bethesda just released Fallout 1st, a horseshit pay-to-win subscription system for their absolute cum-bubble of a game, and while it’s getting the flack it deserves there are people already putting on their kneepads so they can gobble down Todd Howards entire turgid cock, and as someone who likes rpg’s way too much this irked me, so have a massive and barely coherent rant i took off the discord because why not.

I want to start off with this:  Every good thing about current fallout comes from the fanbase. The stories people tell, the headcanons, the fanfics, the art, everything fans do for it is made with more love, and more thought, than anything Bethesda’s writing and games design team has done in the last 10 years

Now first of all, I haven’t bought or played 76. People are gonna stop me right there and go ”well you haven’t bought it how would you know its bad!!” yeah, I’ve never eaten dog shit either but I can pretty well guess that I ain’t gonna fucking like it.

I knew the second he said "there are no npcs" with actual enthusiasm that this game was gonna be shit. And if you give me 2 seconds to gloat, I never bought the game and I knew this was gonna happen and I was RIGHT so suck my fat hairy nuts all those fanboys who pre-order things mindlessly just because there's a brand name attached to it. If there is anything you take from this its DO NOT PREORDER. BRAND LOYALTY IS FOR BOOMERS AND BOOTLICKERS. FOR FUCKS SAKE BE SMART WITH YOUR MONEY.

Games like this are fucking 80-90 dollars or more in Australia so I actually have to think about whether this momentary distraction is worth almost an entire days paycheck, and I’m still looking for employment which means I actually haven’t bought shit in a while (side note, anyone wants to commission me for 10 dollars I’ll draw damn near anything. God I need to make rent)

Every executive at Bethesda seems to be playing catch-up to EA's monetisation scheme. Beth has abandoned their model of single-player rpg's in favour of a "games as a service" model. Fallout 76 seems to me like its a weird experiment for just how far they can stretch this and still make money. It actually makes me wonder if they are 

 a) just completely unaware of fanbase response [no idea HOW]

b) are running into financial problems and are doing this out of desperation

 c) todd howard is still mad that obsidian made a better fallout than he ever could and he's doing this out of spite 

  Games as a whole has become much like the movie industry where publishers will throw big buckets of cash around to development teams, and those teams have CEO's and higher ups that throw lavish meet n greets and have nice fancy suits and cars and then treat their development teams like shit, overworking them to the point of exhaustion, because the product has to be on time for release dates that are scheduled to be the most profitable (christmas is a notable one). 

And those products are consistently bland, shitty, shallow experiences. Narrative cum-dumpsters that are purposefully made to toe the line as safely as possible, to be open to as wide as an audience as possible so they can make the most money, and Bethesda is a huge offender. Skyrim was fun, sure, but it was watered down to fuck, it had shitty dialogue, it had bland one-note characters, it had a simplified skill system. It was impossible to lose. Seriously, try and fail a fucking quest in skyrim, other than one or two, it's a hand-holder of an rpg, but it has a huge community of fans that put in monumental effort, for free, because they like the Elder Scrolls, and they like the world bethesda made. 

  Then Bethesda goes "hey, that watered down thing we made got huge! lets release it about 12 more fucking times, with some of the SAME bugs, with the SAME content, with the SAME limitations and Yes, we absolutely expect you to pay for it, again. Then they release the remastered edition which, to their credit, is free to anyone who already bought the legendary edition (on PC), and does actually have updated 64bit capability and some graphical enhancements (that aren't anywhere near what some goober in his basement cooked up in his spare time, but whatever). Then, seeing that Skyrim was so popular, with kids especially, and made money, they turn their sights to fallout 4, a game that was so anticipated that someone made a fake countdown and caused a small meltdown on tumblr/social media when it was revealed to be fake (i was part of that fiasco, i remember the hype, i was there goddamnit)

So Fallout, a franchise that literally has its theme as its FUCKING TAGLINE, an ADULT game that is equal parts crude, gory and humorous. A game that satirises the cold war era of american my-country-tis-of-thee blind loyalty and openly mocks the way war was idealised, and shows that not even the literal end of the world could either stop humanity's lust for blood or its desire for conquest. Games that showed you the growth of the world - from shady sands to the NCR, from the vault dweller to arroyo, shit actually happened in the games, the world didn't just stop turning when the bombs dropped. A game where you you become a porn star for fucks sake, and it's funny. 

So Bethesda sees that, makes something like it (fallout 3) which is good, but a little rough around the edges when you look at it too hard. But the way they suck you into the vault, the way they build a relationship with your dad and your way of life is immersive as fuck, so when you leave the place you actually feel like you're leaving something important, not just finishing the tutorial

then they outsource a Fallout game to obsidian, because hey, we saved your franchise by buying it off you, but if you can make an entire game in one year and get a metacritic score of 85 we'll even throw in a bonus. And fuck me sideways and in the ear, if the obsidian devs didn't work themselves harder than a 4-armed hooker. And they made a game that on release was a clusterfuck of bugs, because they were given an unrealistic time limit and missed the metacritic score by ONE POINT so bethesda goes "nhey heh sucks to suck" and fucks them off the franchise forever. EXCEPT (and I admit I'm biased here) the game is good. The game is actually really good when you remove those bugs, and people start forming attachments to it, and mentioning how bad fallout 3's writing is by extension. 

  So Todd and Co. in his infinite wisdom, decide that the only thing a fallout rpg needs is 50s aesthetic and fuck all else, and he releases a game so watered down it can't even be called an rpg. And its not. There are no skills. There are barely any dialogue checks. Instead of dialogue, Nate/Nora is a flat, samrish individual that is either "yes sir right away sir may i have another", "yes but i'm gonna make an unfunny quip about it" "this option pretends to say no but its gonna give you the quest marker anyway". 

The game drops any pretence of difficulty by giving you a deathclaw, a minigun and some power armour in the first 10 minutes, allowing you to effectively reach late-game power levels with some minor scavenging for ammo or cores. Then the game ropes you into some inter-faction war that realistically you wouldn't give a shit about, because some spud in a cowboy hat fucking deputizes you into a military general because you shot like 4 raiders from a rooftop (with a minigun. in power armour. making you nigh-invulnerable to bullets). You're sad about your son about 3 times the whole game and then you're on your merry way to mowing down humans left right and center without a care in the world. God fallout 4's writing is so stupid it gives me an aneurysm.

 Remember the part about resources wars and america only having the veneer of a strong country while riots, inflation, and resource shortages tore it apart from within? Bethesda doesn't, have an eerily stepford pastel coloured glimpse at a world that was totally fine, nothing wrong here, shame it got nuked oh well moving on

Your spouse? yeah you love them, they're said 2 whole sentences to you then they died, be sad because you totally loved them and it is totally sad that they are dead. Your weird play-dough son shaun, you love him so much, you even tickled him on the chin once, okay he's gone off you go to chase him - woah now, don't chase him too hard we have all these side quests for you to do! What would be the narrative reasoning for a supposedly distraught parent to fuck around boston instead of finding their goddamn child? fuck knows! just go pick up some goddamn wood and get to base building sonny-jim! 

Companions? yeah, they're fun, we gave them a romance questline and it's thus: if you pick enough locks and pass a minor charisma check maccready will be ready and willing to tell you about his sick child, and then he'll ride you like a stallion. Talk to him like, 4 times, and he will be your bosom buddy for life in about 3-5 days if you just pick locks like a fucking madman, because character growth is hard and counting beans is easy.

 Also your son is a part of the faction we were talking about! something about synths, remember that one questline from rivet city that barely anyone actually remembers and was an interesting time waster at best? Well get ready to do that same quest but about! 15! more! times! because we could not think of anything else to write about synthetically produced humans that assume peoples identities other than having them as a hamfisted metaphor for slavery. Why do they take over people's identies? Well because the institute needs them to aasdkfjdh kshshshsh t9oe of course. 

Speaking of hamfisted metaphors, here's the underground railroad, named after the underground railroad that actually mattered, except this time its the same thing but synths. They are so top secret that the only way to find them is to follow the only bright red line in a street that is exclusively green-brown otherwise, and then enter their super secret password, which is "password"

They are then, like every other faction, absolutely willing to trust you, at face value, no questions asked, because have to actually do something or require a skill check might make this hard for people under the age of 12 to play. Then you go do whatever fuckin shit you do, I stopped playing at this point, and then you find out your son is actually 60, you guys have a tearful, 10 sentence reunion, then he diesthe whole reason you were out here in the first place dies, and you react appropriately, which is to say you say his name really sadly, and then go back to mowing down raiders with reckless abandon

And then 76 gets released, bethesda drops all pretense of fallout still being an rpg. You want a story? Fuck you, pay up. Its retro future and thats all that makes falloutSatirizing war mongering? You can nuke things in this game and its totally fine, its actually the goal, because fallout has nukes in it right? Pay us 10 dollars and you get army olive drab spraypaint because hurrgh war is fun and great, wasnt that the tagline from the first game?The more i rant the more angry i am because people put their heart and soul into writing this. The lore and dialogue is actual work that someone researched and loved and felt proud of and now  it's becoming a hilariously meta parody of itself. 

Honestly FUCK bethesda and and fuck todd howard for his pisspoor cash grab. Not even worth calling it a video game anymore

[s-ultry]

please me - a tom holland fanfic

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: so i decided that i’d move my fanfic from wattpad to tumblr! just to give me a bit of a boost to continue it, i hope you guys enjoy!

chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six

SUMMARY: when the billionaire meets the microbiologist.

sugardaddy!tom

enjoy me writing nonsense lol

cast:

tom holland as himself

ariana grande as belle lorems

scarlett byrne as luna lorems

james phelps as klaus lorems

whoever you want as demitri and madeleine lorems

-

There she sat, the only place where she truly felt at home. Although she was at her local university, the library still amazed her no matter what she read. As she indulged into the book of Geographical Mysteries she wondered, she wondered whether one day she could be a person to benefit this world or the ecosystem. Her name, as beautiful as her, Belle.

Belle Lorems, a 19-year-old girl who loved her studies and is a very ambitious female of her generation. Belle's childhood consisted of a drunk father who would abuse her mother who was more than innocent, but her mother didn't treat her that well either. All of the attention would go to her elder siblings, her brother Klaus and her sister Luna. Klaus and Belle had a 5 year age gap while Belle and her sister had 2. Let's just say that Belle wasn't the center of attention, but she was the brightest and the most intelligent of them all.

Belle currently studies at the University of New York, where she aspires to become a microbiologist. Sadly, her mother was hoping for her to become a model just like her sister, or an athlete like her brother. Her father was now completely sober but still frustrated whenever Belle was around. It was as though she was the black sheep of the family.

Whenever she used to get the top grade in her whole class, her parents say its good. She's not allowed to spend any money as they are already fed up with her wanting new clothes, mind her, she only had minimal. She was forbidden to drive a car and is obliged to take the bus back home. Which she didn't mind of course, as it was a journey for her.

Speaking of home, Belle returned her book to where it belonged and headed out to go back home. During her 10 minute walk, she encountered a cute little café where she decided to get a cooling beverage. She walked up ordering an iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso in which she savored once she held the drink in her hand.

Belle was indeed owning up to her name, she was a curvy average sized girl who had luxurious long brown hair and a pleasing facial structure. That's what people told her, but she never approved of it.

Unlocking the door to her home announcing her arrival she wasn't surprised when she heard no ones reply. The brunette made her way to the kitchen where she saw her mom baking some sort of cake that smelled delicious.

"What you baking there, Mom?" Belle questioned her mother as she placed her books on the kitchen counter.

"Red velvet cake with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Would you like to try some?" Her mother, Madelaine replied handing a piece of cake to her daughter. Belle was in bewilderment as to how nice her mother was acting.

She moaned in pleasure as the cake melted in her mouth, she glanced at her mother giving her a thumbs up. "Now, I need you to change immediately because a guest is arriving soon. They will have dinner with the whole family since he's your father's boss. Don't act weird, don't talk weird, just don't be yourself. Understand." Belle's mother scolded her as her daughter obeyed her commands grabbing her books and running upstairs.

Belle quickly jumped into the shower, lathering her hair in soap as well as her body. Minutes after her quick but relaxing shower she began her makeup routine, applying winged liner that wasn't as bold as her sisters and pairing it with a bold red lip. She then grabbed her hair dryer contemplating whether to straighten her hair or to curl it, in the end, she confirmed that she would curl her ends leaving a more natural look.

"Jamming out to music isn't what we want our guest to hear, huh?" Her sister Luna walked in wearing her silver silk robe. Belle lightly smiled as she lowered her music down, hoping for the awkward silence to disappear.

"So listen, apparently the guest that dad's bringing over is his boss, right?" The dirty blonde asked her sister in which she nodded. "So, I did a bit of research and figured out that the guest he's bringing is billionaire playboy Mr. Tom Holland!" Her sister squealed whilst her sister stared at her in confusion.

"Come on Bellatrix! You don't even know who The Tom Holland is?"

"Nope never heard of him, to busy studying!" Belle chuckled as she walked into her closet, her sister followed with her phone glued to her face searching the playboy on the internet.

"Him!" Luna pointed at her phone slightly shaking, Belle grabbed her phone and scrolled through the pictures that loaded. He looked demanding, controlling, dominant. She saw him walking out of luxurious stores with girls screaming for him.

"Well, have him all you want!" Belle chose a baggy loose dress to where in which her sister snatched away from her grasp. "You're not wearing that in front of him, I'll give you a dress," her sister ran into her room and came back with a tight-fitting, off shoulder black dress. The Lorems weren't stupid rich, but they did have enough to buy expensive items.

"No, Luna I'm not wearing that!" Belle argued in her baby pink robe as she rummaged her closet to find a dress, but since she didn't have anything she grabbed the dress from her sister's hand and slammed the bathroom door. The brunette then stared in the mirror, looking around her whole body insecurely. She would never wear anything like what she was wearing right now, she paired it with her necklace that she wore every day, it was a snakehead with jewels. Belle decided that today was the day for her kitten heels that she got from a relative a while back.

She left the bathroom to wear the pair of black shoes when she heard commotion downstairs, she cursed to herself as she heard them walk into the dining room. Belle looked at herself one more time reciting her pep talk to herself whilst walking downstairs.

"Breathe, Belle, breathe," she calmed herself down while knocking on the dining room's door.

"Finally, she decided to arrive!" Her mother exclaimed opening the grand door revealing the room of her family and a mysterious man. He stood up expecting a welcome, but as shy as she became she sat opposite of him.

"Bellatrix, darling. Would you get the dinner for us?" Her father demanded her, not expecting no for an answer in which she promptly stood up walking to the kitchen. "I'd love to help her Demitri," she heard their guest say trying to stand up.

"Nonsense! She'll get it herself," her father smiled drinking his glass of wine.

Belle then returned with two dishes juggling in her hands, but as one was about to fall Mr. Holland had caught it looking up into her brown globes, her breath hitched as she glanced at his dark, controlling ones.

"Belle take the dish from Mr. Holland! Now!" Her mother scolded her daughter leading Belle to gently place one dish on the table and taking the other from the billionaire's hand. The five-foot teenager quickly ran to her seat looking down in shame. She never liked how her parents controlled her, but she couldn't talk back as its disrespectful towards them.

Throughout dinner she kept quiet, making sure not to embarrass her family. But, she did want to enjoy the dinner with her food. "So, Klaus. What's your job?" The sharp man looked over to her brother. "Oh, I play for this football team as the attacker!" Klaus briefly explained to his guest.

"What about you, Luna?" Mr. Holland also asked the second oldest of the Lorems.

"Well, I study at a beauty college because I want to be a model!" Luna described to the man trying to act seductive as possible in order to get his number. Her mother stared both children with pride and excitement, but once it was Belle's turn she rolled her eyes.

"Lastly, what do you study Bellatrix?" He asked with a smirk plastered along his lips once he saw her blush intensifying as he kept staring at her.

"It's Belle," she whispered as her shyness was taking over.

"What?" Mr. Holland stared straight into her eyes knowing he was playing games with her, but Belle sat there trying to maintain her composure.

"Um, uh, it's Belle. And, um uh oh yeah, wait," The brunette started stuttering forgetting everything as her mind started going blank.

"It's okay darling, you don't need to be shy in front of me," his deep British accent seeped through as he was drinking his wine, never breaking eye contact.

Belle coughed, she felt weird feelings after he had said that. "I am a sophomore studying to be a microbiologist," she announced speaking loud and clear.  She then continued munching on her vegetables.

"That's quite hard. Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I find the topic very fascinating and requires more concentration and intelligence. In which I think I have," Belle replied looking down at her hands that were hidden under the table.

"I would've expected Bellatrix to end up as a librarian in one of those adult films," her brother laughed while the others chuckled at her except Mr. Holland. He glanced at her to see tears forming in her eyes, he felt angry. He felt hurt, mad, and wanted to punch every single one of them for hurting such a precious rose like that.

"May I be excused?" Belle asked her mother in which she obliged, the brunette ushered towards the bathroom locking herself in and looking at herself. Belle saw tears forming in her eyes, but she didn't want them to spill as she spilled enough. She glanced in the mirror and she saw someone pathetic, someone who didn't deserve anything like this hurt and abuse. Belle only hoped for a miracle.

The teenager then heard footsteps coming to the door, she held her breathe hoping it wasn't one of her family members. Then, her thoughts of panic were interrupted by a few knocks on the door.

"Belle, may I enter?" She heard the Britt question her from the other side of the door. Belle fixed herself up, but her puffy eyes were evident. She then unlocked the door to find a concerned young man looking all over her face, almost checking if she didn't hurt herself.

"Sorry I took so long Mr. Holland, forgive me," the youngest Lorems looked down fiddling with her fingers. The cunning businessman then took her hands into his own, making her gaze up at his own brown globes.

He gently pushed her back inside the bathroom locking it behind him. Mr. Holland then glanced down at her, he delicately grabbed her waist lifting her up on the countertop of the marvellous bathroom. Stood in between her legs his fingers rubbed her hands as she was trying her hardest not to let the tears fall, not again.

"Tell me everything, love," he begged her, knowing a man like him would never beg for anything.

"This has been happening since I was around 5 years old, my parents and my siblings basically bullying me for every step, every breath, every action I am being targeted. I can't defend myself because I hate the thought of talking back to someone older than me, it's disrespectful and rude. Especially when they talk about my career choice, my parents wanted me to be famous and have flashing cameras everywhere," Belle vented not daring to examine the man's facial expression.

"I-I tried to hide in my university, but I have to come home to cook and clean for them. I just have to live with it," she huffed fiddling with her fingers.

He then cupped her cheek, making her look at him. Belle's eyes closed gently as the heat of his hand introduced itself to her tear-stained cheek, leaning into it.

"You've been a very good girl, obeying everyone's command. I like that, and Belle you're the Cinderella in your own fairy tale. Hopefully, you will meet your prince soon," he sincerely smiled at the girl in front of him. Belle then pulled him into a hug, holding him tight hoping he'd never leave and inhaling his strong cologne that relaxed her immediately.

They both let go of the hug and Belle jumped down from the countertop, she turned around and gazed at the mirror, not noticing Mr. Holland's hands around her waist as he hugged her from behind.

"Look at yourself, Belle. You're stunning, beautiful, intelligent, and perfect. What more would a man want, what more would anyone want? Forget what they said, now it's time to focus on you now." He scanned her in the mirror, from head to toe she was flawless in his eyes.

In his eyes, she was indeed perfect, exactly who he imagined he would be with. Shy, intelligent, submissive.

But he wondered, what would it be like to have her all. Hold onto her, spoil her. In the end, all he ever wanted was a baby girl.

-

hope you enjoyed that chapter!

-a

[itsthesinbin]

You Bring Out The Worst In Me (Black Hat/Reader)

The Villainous fanfic is here! At least, the first chapter is. As usual, I’ll post a few chapters to both here and Ao3, then after like... four or five, I’ll be posting exclusively to Ao3!

The tag for this fic will be “the worst in me”, if you either want to keep track of it or block it!

Also! Let me know if anyone can spot the very small Elder Scrolls reference in the first chapter! It's VERY subtle, and had to be changed slightly, but I hope the effect can come across still.

Warnings for the fic: This fic will contain implied/referenced abuse, yandere/possessive behavior [Black Hat], Canon-typical gore/violence, and other such content. If you are sensitive to any of the above, please be cautious when reading my fic now, and in the future.

Fic Summary:

Black Hat doesn't help people. He sells weapons of mass chaos and destruction to harm and kill. He's a centuries-old Eldritch being that feeds off of terror. He relishes in making puny humans and heroes cower to the point of soiling themselves.

But... when he finds quiet, painfully panicky little you while he's trying to bring down a pesky heroine, he can't help but wonder...

The flames of unease are already in your mind. What would happen if he added fuel to the inferno trying to burn you to the ground?

Read on Ao3!

Everyone had a soul mate. Their first words were written on the first place their mate touches them. For many it was on their hands, due to hand shakes or possibly helping another party up. Some had them on their shoulders or back. Your friend even had his on his forehead. That’s going to be an interesting meeting, especially since his’ partner’s words were “watch it, asshole”. Covering up those words was always a hassle.

Your words… always worried you. Wrapping around your neck like a choker- or a collar- were the words “There you are”. The letters seemingly dripped, indicating the malice that would be behind the words. You had taken to wearing turtle necks, to avoid seeing the words in your reflection. To hide them from others.

Your mother, popular heroine The Ideal Mistress, always brushed off your concerns. She rationalized that you’d probably never meet your soul mate. Why would you need to, when she has the perfect ideas for your future husband in mind? That nice, upcoming hero has been giving you the eye, when she takes you to hero meetings.

You trusted her, although you wish she’d consult you on these things more often. Especially when they… have to do with your actual life.

Like right now. Your mother was dragging you to her branch of the Hero Organization, trying to get you a permit to work with her as a sidekick and develop your powers. Like your mother, you had psychic abilities. You weren’t very good at using them, however, as they developed late.

Or, well, she thought they developed late. Little did she know, you used them Matilda style- behind her back and only for minor things. You still couldn’t lift things heavier than a stack of books, though. Unlike your mother, who could lift cars and manipulate people with her mind- and words.

You tried to get her attention, hands moving as you signed your anxiety. She didn’t bother looking, waving you off.

“I told you, sweetheart, you have to use your words. You can talk- you can’t act like this forever.” The tone in her voice, immediately, made your hands snap to your chest. You held your own hands tightly, looking down at the pavement in frustration as you walked into the building. You knew arguing with her was pointless. When her mind was set on something, she’d do it.

You sat down with her, waiting for her boss to enter the room for the interview. Your mother looked at you, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

“Isn’t this exciting, honey? You’ll get to work alongside your mom! You’ll be a hero, just like me, in no time!” You tried to lift your hands to tell her you were nervous, but she kept going.

“We need to think of your hero name. Something close to mine, maybe? Hm…” Her thoughts were cut off by an explosion off in the lobby. Your mother stood, ordering you to stay in the office, before heading out.

-----------------

Everyone has a soul mate. Even people you would think didn’t have a soul to begin with. Even people who didn’t deserve happiness with the person made for them. Souls persisted, even if the body decays and fades away.

Which lead Black Hat to be where he is, now.

The single word around his wrist, wrapped around as if something was grabbing it. “Please”. The word was shakily written, as if the person was full of anxiety- or adrenaline. The word changes every now and again, as the body dies and the soul gains a slightly different personality.

Normally, Black Hat doesn’t care about romance or, eugh… love. Finding them isn’t about love. Finding this person is about property. That soul? Is his. He’s been through many deaths and reincarnations. They’ve avoided him for so long. He still remembers the very first meeting.

A simple farm boy, hundreds of years ago. Sure, the soul had been around much, much longer, but Black Hat only found them the first time as that terrified man. Christianity in full swing, he avoided the Eldritch being with everything he had. The man died of disease before Black Hat could finally get a hold of him.

He’s witnessed the words and locations change over the centuries. This one has stuck around long enough for him to confirm that the person was at an age he could take them. Now, it was just a matter of figuring out where his soul has gone.

For now, he’s busy trying to get a certain heroine off of his back.

The Ideal Mistress has been interfering with his shipments, and has almost imprisoned Flug several times. She succeeded in capturing Dimencia, but the lizard woman was so hyperactive she managed to escape on her own. This… will not do. Black Hat may not be too active in his villainy, anymore, beyond selling products to other, lesser villains, but he is still the monstrosity of Hat Island. He is NOT to be trifled with.

The spybot had found Ideal Mistress walking into the Hero Organization building in another part of the city. With a pretty little thing in tow. The girl looked just like her, making him assume a daughter. That made a grin spread across his face as he and his minions approached the building.

--------------

A building-wide alert began to sound, shortly after you heard the explosion. The announcer told all civilians in the building to get to the nearest safe room. You stood up, heading out of the office. You’ve been here multiple times- you know where all of the safe rooms are.

You exited into the hallway. The power was out, and the building was starting to shake with multiple explosions. You heard the combat even from here- sounded like robots. Who would invade the Hero Organization’s building like this?

As you made your way through the dark halls, you began to hear footsteps approaching your location. Thinking it was someone heading to the safe room nearby, you hurried to catch up to them.

When you caught sight of a large woman with green and red hair scaling the wall, however, you stopped short. Her head turned towards you, a manic grin appearing on her face.

“Oh goody! Boss is gonna be happy as hell with me,” she giggled. Her grin turned sinister, and she began towards you quickly. You exhaled sharply, hurrying in the other direction. She cackled, chasing you down the hall. A whimper was all that left your mouth, too choked up to scream.

You stopped running when a dark figure blocked your path. The maniac giggling kept up behind you, taking a new tone of adoration as she saw the figure. Your eyes widened. You knew why that woman was familiar. Your mother captured her, recently.

Demencia. The manic lizard belonging to… Oh no.

The figure approached you, needle-like teeth exposed in the low light he seemed to emit. He grinned as you opened your mouth. He grabbed you by the neck quickly, knocking the air out of you. You gripped his wrist, and his grin widened further.

“There you are,” he purred. Your heart raced. You felt the words on your neck heat up, and tears spilled out of your wide eyes. No… no, no, no. Anyone else. Anyone but him.

He released your neck, quickly grasping your arm before you could run. He grinned down at you, before turning his head and calling for someone- Flug. His personal inventor. The man your mother’s been trying to capture for months.

A person with a paper bag over his head came forward, holding some restraints. Your hands were bound behind your back. The new man grasped your other arm as Black Hat let you go.

“Take her to the van. Be ready to escape, Flug.” The man muttered a “yes, sir”, before pulling you along. Numbly, you followed, too scared to do anything.

You began to struggle when you exited the building.

You pulled against Flug’s hold, trying to escape his grip. His hand tightened around your arm. For such a skinny man, he had a lot of strength.

“Please, just make things easier on both of us and don’t struggle too much-.” Your eyes began to glow slightly, trying to use your powers. You were met with a strong, jarring shock from your restraints. You nearly fell over, only being supported by the good doctor.

“I told you. Those restraints suppress your powers. They were meant for Ideal Mistress, so they’re stronger than they need to be. Keep it up and you might die.” Your mother. God, what would she say if she knew you got kidnapped so easily? Maybe she wouldn’t be too harsh- even she’s terrified of facing Black Hat, himself.

You were dragged to their van, and shoved into the back. Flug made sure you were secure, then went to sit in the driver’s seat. He turned on the engine, waiting for the others to hurry back.

It felt like you were there for hours, before you felt someone crawl onto the top of the vehicle. Probably Demencia. Black Hat opened the passenger’s door, slamming it closed when he was inside.

“Go!” Flug took off, hurrying down the road. You jerked from the sudden movement, trying not to fall over. Despite the voice in your head telling you not to show weakness, tears slipped down your cheeks and small hiccups escaped your mouth.

You didn’t notice Black Hat staring at you through the rearview mirror.

A smug grin settled on his face, leaning his head against his hand as he sat against the door. Sure, he didn’t capture Ideal Mistress, but grabbing her daughter? Much more fun, in the end. Who knows how much Black Hat could get from that pesky heroine while her daughter is on the line? He could get that goody two shoes to do ANYTHING he wanted!

“Get comfortable, my dear,” he laughed, watching as you met his gaze through the mirror. You looked away quickly, not wanting him to see more of your tears than he already has. His smirk widened, and he felt a satisfied growl erupt from his chest.

“You’re going to be with us for… quite a while.”

[sushigirlali]

If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Epilogue (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Epilogue

Summary: Grifter!Rey helps U.S. Senator Leia Organa’s son, Ben Solo, out of a jam when a couple of muggers invade her turf. Afterward, she debates robbing the rich American herself, but can she protect her heart while stealing his?

Pairing: Rey + Ben Solo | Finn + Poe Dameron

Rating: E

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: Last but not least, here's the epilogue! I would have been in CA this week for SWCA, so I'm missing my Reylo friends extra hard! Hopefully things will start looking up next year for conventions because cosplay and meetups are life for me! Enjoy :)

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

If You Don’t Love Me, Lie To My Face - Epilogue

By: sushigirlali

——————

Kennington, London Three months later

——————

Rey curled her legs underneath her as the news report she'd been waiting for finally started. At the same moment, Finn's door opened and he passed through the living room to the kitchen.

"Since when do you watch the news?" he asked, opening the fridge to grab a snack.

"Shh!" she waved a hand at him, trying to listen to the report.

"Senator Organa has won reelection in a landslide, despite a hiccup in her campaign when J.J. Snoke, former head of multinational corporation The First Order, was arrested by the FBI and charged with a slew of crimes ranging from embezzlement to the attempted murder of her son, Ben Solo. Solo is expected to remain at his mother's side for the foreseeable future as Chief of—"

"Hey!" Rey yelped as Finn grabbed the remote and switched the TV off. "What the hell?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he frowned, taking a bite out of a bright red apple. "Have you actually talked to Ben or are you getting all your information from the telly?"

"We've talked," she said evasively.

"When was the last time?"

"Last week," she muttered. "He's very busy right now."

"And what did he say?" Finn inquired.

"He said he was coming back soon," she hunched her shoulders, "but the news for the past few days has been saying that Ben's going to stay in America and work for his mom and there's speculation he's dating that tiny blonde woman from the fancy café and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," her brother cautioned as she worked herself up. "If Ben said he's coming back, then he is. I don't think the bloke has it in him to lie to you. And he's definitely not cheating on you, Rey."

"How do you know?" she cried. "You and Poe talk fifty times a day and are so in love it makes me sick!"

"Okay, let's put a pin in my love life," Finn said, "and get back to the real issue. If you're having doubts about him, then you need to talk to him!"

"I guess I could call him," she sniffed. "It's late there, though. He might be asleep."

"Why not give it a try just in case?" he urged.

She blew a raspberry at him. "Fine."

Finn looked at her expectantly, continuing to much on his piece of fruit.

"Are you just going to stand there or can I get some privacy?" she glared.

"I'm just going to stand here," he confirmed with a grin.

Swearing under her breath, Rey was about to dial Ben up when her phone rang. "Oh, no."

"What? Is it him?"

"No," she gulped, recognizing one of the contacts she'd copied from Ben's cell all those months ago, "it's his mother."

"Well, answer it!" he said, rushing to sit beside her.

Rey held the phone so that Finn could hear too. "H—hello? Mrs. Solo?"

"Organa, but Leia is fine," she replied briskly. "Rey, have you heard from my son? He's supposed to be in town for another—"

"Finn!" Rey gasped as he took the phone from her hand and ended the call. "What are you doing?!"

"Dammit, this isn't going right at all," he bemoaned. "Ben is going to kill me!"

"What?"

Sighing, Finn scrolled through her favorites and called Ben before pressing the device to her ear. "Here."

Rey started to argue, but the sound of another phone ringing diverted her attention to the front door. "What the fuck?"

"Surprise!" Finn said weakly.

Her mouth dropped open as the door suddenly swung wide, revealing a casually dressed Ben Solo with cell in hand.

"Hey, Rey," he smiled, speaking into the receiver.

The sound of his husky voice was magnified by their close proximity, making her quiver. "Ben?" she breathed.

"I'm back, sweetheart," he held his free arm open, "aren't you glad to see me?"

Unable to respond, to think, she just stared at him in shock. "This can't be real. Am I dreaming?"

"Rey?" he frowned, hanging up the phone and slipping it into his back pocket. "You are happy to see me, right?" He hovered half inside the doorway, looking like he intended to bolt if she said "no."

Shaken by his vulnerability, Rey tossed her phone over her shoulder and bounded across the room and into his arms. "Ben? Ben!" she cried, realizing he was real and firm and here. "Oh, my god!"

"Does that mean you missed me?" he teased, sounding relieved.

She squeezed him tight, burrowing her face into his black Henley. "Yes!" she said, words slightly muffled against his firm chest.

"Good," he responded, hugging her tightly. "I was worried for a second there."

Looking up at him, she drank in his handsome features. "Don't be silly." Then, a little anxiously, "Did you miss me too?"

"Every minute, baby, every minute," he said huskily.

"Are—are you staying long?"

He tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean? I'm back."

"Yes, but back for how long?" she chewed her lip.

"Have you been watching the news, Rey Niima?" he chuckled.

"Shut up," she flushed.

He leaned down to kiss her. "I'm going to work out of the embassy for my mother during her last term, then I'm free to do whatever I want."

"And what is that?" she sighed against his mouth.

"Be with you," he said simply, looping an arm under her legs and pulling her into a bridal carry. "How does that sound?"

"I think I can work you in between classes," she ribbed, curling her arms around the strong column of his neck. "I'm starting in January. If I take summer classes as well, I should be done within three years."

"I can live with that," he murmured, taking her mouth again. "I can live with that forever."

——————

"Nice to see you, too," Finn laughed quietly as Ben walked into Rey's room and kicked the door shut behind them. Stooping to pick up Rey's discarded phone when it started ringing again, he answered, "Hey, Senator."

"Uh… hello?" Leia replied. "Who is this?"

"Finn."

"Oh, the brother!"

"Yes, the brother," he laughed again. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm looking for my son," she paused, "and now Rey too, I suppose. Do you know where they are?"

Finn snorted as Rey's bed started squeaking against the wall. "I have an idea," he said irreverently.

Something in his voice must have given the situation away, because she said, "Oh… I see... Ben's already in London then. Can you ask them to give me a call, um, tomorrow? There are a few things we should discuss about Ben's move… and other future important events."

"Sure, I can do that," he said brightly. "Rey, you've got your hands full with this one. Good luck planning your own wedding."

"Thank you. Goodnight, Finn."

"Goodnight, Senator." Disconnecting the call, he placed the device on the coffee table with a sigh. "Well, my duty is done for the night, I should probably—"

"Done managing our friend's lives?" A man rumbled from the still open doorway.

"Poe!" Finn exclaimed, flipping around. "You're here too!"

"Surprise!" he smiled, holding out a hand. "Wanna go out for dinner?"

Sparing a glance toward Rey's bedroom as the scandalous sounds from within became even louder, he tossed the apple core into the trash, grabbed his jacket and wallet, and joined Poe at the door. "Hell yes," he agreed, taking his hand, "it's a date."

——————

Washington, D.C. Three years later

——————

Rey Solo tried to focus on what her husband was whispering into her ear, but found the task impossible as his hips slammed hard against hers. With her thighs pushed wide to accommodate his width and a plush pillow propping up her hips, Ben had worked his thick cock so deep inside her body that she could practically feel him in her throat.

Not that she was complaining, per se, but it was rather annoying to be stuck housesitting for Ben's mother, the esteemed Senator Leia Organa, instead of enjoying the long awaited honeymoon in Hawaii they had painstakingly planned over the last year. Having already postponed their vacation until after Rey finished engineering school, they were both itching for a break.

Since getting together with Ben, Rey had met Leia exactly three times. Once at her engagement party, then again at her wedding, and finally only hours ago in the very room Ben was fucking her brains out in now. She was a kind woman, if a bit stern, and loved her son to distraction. Which was fortunate, since Rey was pretty sure they didn't have anything else in common.

Still, she wanted to be a good wife and daughter-in-law, so she'd sucked up her disappointment when Leia had asked them to babysit her pets and water her plants for two weeks instead of going on her dream vacation while Leia jetted off to lord knows where to bail her erstwhile husband out of a jam.

Having never met the man, he'd be conspicuously absent from their wedding, Rey's only opinion on the elder Solo was that he was lucky to have a family that cared about him so much. Having grown up in the foster care system, she knew never to take such things for granted.

In fact, now that she had a family of her own, every day was more special than the last. When not working for his mother, Ben was helping Finn and Poe grow their independent racing team. And with Leia retiring next year, he would be free to pursue his new passion with his friends. For her part, she couldn't wait to get involved in designing cars for Finn; he was quickly becoming a star on the British circuit. It was funny how things worked out sometimes...

"Rey?" Ben's hoarse whine broke into her thoughts. "Rey, I'm gonna lose it!" His long fingers slipped between them, zeroing in on her pulsating core. He deftly manipulated her slick nub, dragging her to the brink as well. "Do you want me to pull out, or…?"

Sometimes life threw in-law sized curveballs at you, but on the plus side, making furious love to her husband in the middle of the day on his mother's favorite sofa was a pretty good alternative to a Hawaiian vacation. Being married to the love of her life was turning out to be quite the adventure after all.

"No!" Rey locked her ankles around his waist and tightened her inner muscles around him. Ben swore in response, his careful rhythm becoming sloppy as they careened toward climax. "This sofa costs fifteen thousand dollars, don't you dare ruin it!"

"How the hell do you know that?" he grunted, but she could tell he was pleased. While she enjoyed when he made a bit of a mess during sex, Ben had always preferred coming inside her.

"Your mother," she gasped, arching into his next stroke. "When we toured the house earlier she—she—ah! Ben!"

"Guess I'll just have to come in you then," he panted, playing her body like a fiddle. "You've been off the pill for a month. Do you think you're ready for me? For my come? Are you ready to have my baby?"

"Oh, Ben!" she moaned, heart racing madly at the mention of having his child. Whoever said procreation wasn't sexy hadn't met her husband. They'd barely started trying, but he'd already reconfigured his home office into the perfect nursery. "Yes! Come inside me, please! Fill me up! I want your baby, Ben!"

"Fuck! Rey!" He pounded into her harder, angling his hips in just the way she liked, giving her everything he had to give. "Right there?" he huffed, hooking one of her legs over the crook of his arm. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes!" she cried, nails digging into the soft suede sofa. "Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Stars suddenly exploded behind her hazel eyes, making her blind to everything except the man holding her. "I love you," he whispered over and over again, trailing kisses across her face as her cunt milked his shaft for long moments. "I love you so much, Rey."

She curved her arms around his neck, returning his affectionate embrace. "I love you too, Ben."

"I'm only sorry I couldn't give you the honeymoon you deserve," he sighed absently.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I think we're off to a great start." She kissed his prominent nose. "Besides, we have traveler's insurance, so we can just go away next month instead."

"Thank god for that," he chuckled. Ben slowly sat up with her in his lap, careful not to dislodge his softening member. "So, about this sofa..."

"Yeah?"

"I think you may want to trim your nails before we start round two."

"Oh? Why's that?" she said bemusedly.

Ben turned her cheek to see two sets of crescent indentations cut into the arm of the couch. Apparently her grip was stronger than the fine fabric. "Shite."

"This is why we can't have nice things," he said with mock seriousness. "Mother will be so disappointed."

She giggled and pushed his unruly hair away from his face. "Then I guess it doesn't matter what else we do on this sofa, now does it?"

"Nope," he grinned at the possibilities. "Though we should probably keep our play fighting in the ballroom; less things to ruin in there."

"Mm… good point," she groaned, unable to resist lifting up and down on his rapidly hardening member. "But before I kick your butt again, I'm going to thoroughly ruin you—and maybe this sofa—first!"

Ben kissed her heatedly, letting her take what she wanted. "I wouldn't want it any other way, sweetheart."

-FIN-

——————

A/N: Hope y'all enjoyed this little fic! I really love action romance with an HEA! Please check out my other fics and leave reviews! Validation is wonderful lol Be well!

[jhameia]

Fic: “The Ambassador”

the fic i mentioned 5 days ago, done at 19k words, maybe it will leave me alone now and I CAN GET BACK TO DISSERTATING. is it Strange Magic fanfic anymore? WHO KNOWS ITS DONE have an asexual romance between a spider woman and a fairy dude

1: The Mission

           Sylvia of the Northern Spiders, loyal retainer and advisor to the Royal Family of the Dark Forest, glared at the Bog King, her childhood playmate and close cousin as she entered in response to a roared summons.

           The atmosphere in the throne room was tense and ugly as he stared down at her from the dais. This wasn't the first time he had ignored her counsel, but this was the first time it had gotten so personal. Banning love from the Dark Forest! What ridiculousness! Banning love potion she could understand, cutting down the primroses, sure, but locking up the Sugar Plum Fairy, of all the--!! And Auntie Griselda was of no help, taking her precious son's side in his time of hurt.

           Which she should be doing, except his head was so far up his ass on this matter, it would be illogical. Her job was to help him be a better King, not a worse one. Bad enough that he was surly to start with--just like his father, his father's father, and beyond--this recent affair had launched that surliness off the precipice into a pit of mean-hearted stupidity.

           "You called, Your Majesty?" she asked coldly. The formality of her tone cut through the silence.

           He didn't flinch, though he might have before; "Your Majesty" from her lips was usually soft and fond and warm. A change in that meant cutting disapproval.

           "We received a message from the Fairy Kingdom," he drawled, tossing her a little scroll.

           She frowned. The Fairy Kingdom and the Dark Forest had been isolated from each other for generations. With good reason. The fairies were not to be trifled with: dangerous, vicious creatures masquerading as light fragile butterflies. She unrolled the scroll, and raised her eyebrow at the uncharacteristically warm message written in tidy handwriting. "From... one of the Fairy Princesses? Aren't they still very young?" Princess Marianne couldn't be older than fourteen. Or sixteen?

           "It is nonetheless a royal missive."

           "Requesting friendship between the kingdoms," she murmured. "Not very sophisticated. No peace talks, no diplomatic relations, no trade, just... friendship?" She looked up. "This is the request of a child."

           "Not just any child. The Crown Princess." A curl went up on the Bog King's face, and not a smile.

           "You intend to... honour this?"

           "You advise against it?"

           "I..." She thought about it. "It would be good," she began slowly, "to have access to the Meadow again. The Swarm would benefit from an open border, and we wouldn't have to travel so out of our way to the Glen. We could rebuild an accord with the elves."

           He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. "I am appointing you our ambassador to the Meadow."

           Her jaw hung.

           "I trust you will have our bests interests in mind," he continued blithely, his tone a bit too light. "You're the least likely in the kingdom to try to eat a fairy, too, so that's a plus."

           Her heart raced. "And how long will this term last?"

           His gaze was flinty as he replied, "until I recall you."

           "I see." She went numb. Banishment, under a pretty name. She never thought--he would never--except he was doing it now. "And I cannot decline this appointment?"

           "No."

           "I didn't realize you hated me that much."

           "I don't," he snarled. "But you will respect your king."

           She stamped a foot. "You know why I disagree--"

           "Silence!"

           That was it. Her mind raced through the memories at her beck and call: of previous kings who were cruel like this, twisted by something deep inside, unwilling to take counsel, willing to hurt others in order to stay their path towards self-destruction.

           The only remedy was time and waiting.

           Could she wait? She clutched her hands to her chest. He was her best friend, her only family left in the Forest. He was also hurting deep inside from something he refused to talk to her about and there was nothing she could do. He was her King, and he was sending her away from home into a nest of something more vicious than wasps.

           She bowed her head, so he wouldn't have the satisfaction of seeing her tears. "I honour and obey my King," she intoned, words from an ancient memory.

           "You leave with the dawn."

#

2: The Path To Good Revenge

             Ambassador Sylvia arrived on a leaf drawn by four dragonflies, her grip on the reins tighter than necessary because she was so furious... and nervous. There was so much open air on the Meadow, and the wind threatened to knock her over a few times. The good thing about having eight legs was a solid sense of balance.

           A company of guards came to meet with her, demanded her to halt. Fliers, she grumbled internally. Most goblins were grounded, but Bog did take his wings for granted regularly.

           "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but if I stop, I will fall," she said politely. "My intentions are peaceful, and my business is with the Royal Family."

           "What is that business?" the leader of them demanded.

           Friendship, apparently, she thought, but it sounded stupid to say, so she smiled sweetly instead. "That is for the Royal Family to hear. Will you escort me to an audience with King Dagda?"

           "Madam, the King does not take to goblin interlopers lightly!"

           "Good, that makes him a wise man. Also a good thing that I'm not an interloper."

           That seemed to flabbergast the lead fairy. Finally, he nodded. "We'll take you there. But if you try anything..."

           "You would be doing your job. Yes, I'm sure." She tossed her hair out of her face and lifted her chin. She would keep her dignity here.

           The palace loomed ahead, and the lead fairy guard gestured for her to land on a platform, clearly built for fliers. She leapt out of her makeshift chariot, and the fairy guards stepped down to surround her.

           "What is your name?" she asked the leader.

           He blinked at her. "Captain Nathaniel."

           A ranked officer, then. "Captain Nathaniel, thank you for your company's service."

           He was definitely not expecting that. She refrained from smirking. She knew how these folks pretended to be civilized. She had never enjoyed the advantages of having foremother memory so much before. Here, in the Fairy realm, where they obviously did not remember a damn thing, she had something to help.

           The Fairy King was obviously not expecting to see anyone that day, since the throne room was devoid of courtiers. But maybe these days the throne room was always this empty? Foremother memory was definitely not helping with regards to the niceties of the Fairy Court.

           The King himself was on his throne. A large, round man, he, with wide green eyes, and green armour. The crown, she recognized. Most everything else, no. She curtsied as low as she could. "Salutations, Your Majesty, I, Sylvia of the Dark Forest, come as ambassador to open lines of communication between our lands, upon orders of the Bog King." Let him think the Bog King actually wanted this.

           Hurried footsteps echoed in a hallway outside, and a slip of a girl burst in from a door to the side of the throne. "I heard-! I came as soon as-!" she huffed, and stopped, amber eyes widening.

           Sylvia took a few steps back to look less threatening. She knew how she looked: the upper body that might look like a fairy's, save for the carapace on her torso, and the lower body of a spider. Even among goblins, her form was extreme. She had considered wearing clothes, but she had been a bit too furious to consider spinning something up. Besides, the Royal Family had the right to at least see her full form.

           She curtsied again. "You must be Crown Princess Marianne." She held out the scroll. "The Bog King received your message."

           "Oh! He did! Amazing!" the princess literally squeaked with delight, any fear melting from her in excitement. She gripped her father's arm and shook it a little, uncaring of protocol. "Father, a goblin in our court! The first in generations!"

           "Marianne!" Dagda scolded. "What did you do??"

           Marianne drew back a little, defensive. "I... I sent a message. I... I may have thrown it over the border and... hoped for the best?" She turned to Sylvia. "How does he respond?"

           "He sent me. I'm to be Ambassador until relations have been established to our kingdoms' mutual benefit." She made the last part up easily. Bog had never said, just packed her off. She wrote to several goblin elders last night to request their cooperation in the foolish endeavour. She could pretend to be productive in exile.

           Plus, this little princess seemed like a total treasure. She would drive Bog up the wall. He would deserve it.

           The total treasure's hands were clasped in complete and utter delight. "Father, did you hear that? It worked!"

           King Dagda was rubbing a hand over his face. "Marianne, you can't just--it's not that simple! You have to think about what the Kingdom wants! I can't--the Council will--"

           "I'll talk to the Council," Marianne declared. "You've always wanted me to attend those meetings, anyway, and you're right, it's time I got started! Father, please, look--" she gestured at Sylvia--"she came all this way! Surely we're not going to turn her away."

           "I hope not," Sylvia muttered, a bit too loudly. She saw the King narrow his eyes at her for speaking out of turn. "I am not allowed back, Your Majesty, until my task is complete," she said shame-facedly. "The Bog King is not known for his tolerance to failure."

           "See? Father!" Marianne was back to shaking King Dagda's arm insistently. "Let her stay! Please?"            

           King Dagda looked between her and the goblin, clearly torn between wary apprehension and fatherly guilt. "But my dear, we know nothing about... about..." She could be dangerous, he wanted to say.

           Sylvia nodded. "Your Majesty, Your Highness, if I may elucidate further on the current economy of the Dark Forest, perhaps we can find someplace to start."

           Marianne beamed. "Yes! I'd love to learn more about the Dark Forest!"

           She was going to unleash the princess on Bog, Sylvia decided. She was going to work so hard to make the impossible possible, because she liked little Marianne, and right now she hated Bog so much she was setting aside generations' worth of prejudice against fairies to spite her stupid, surly king. She would bend her foremothers' memory to helping Marianne be a good Queen, because the princess was going to kick Bog's ass, metaphorically or literally, it didn't matter. Bog was going to get killed with kindness. Served him right.

#

3: Weaving The Web

             Ambassador Sylvia was housed in a set of apartments to the eastern wing of the castle. She had a bedroom, a bathroom, and a receiving room, which was all she needed, but also clearly all she would receive. Theoretically, she was allowed to roam the Kingdom. In practice, she couldn't go anywhere unless she had permission from her assigned bodyguard.

           That would be Captain Nathaniel, who, she gathered, was considered experienced enough with Court protocol to know who she could speak to within the Palace and beyond, strong enough to take her down if she tried anything, and smart enough to know where she was allowed to go. He was also the only one who could tolerate her presence without gagging, if the faces of the people she passed was any indication.

           To mitigate that effect, she spun herself a dress that covered her lower body completely. She looked like a wingless fairy wearing an extremely large skirt, if one didn't peer too closely at the feet under the hem. It was also long-sleeved and high-necked, giving the air of excessive modesty. Sylvia wasn't sure how immune the fairies were to her skin, which could be poisonous to some goblins but not others, and she frankly wasn't about to try to find out.

           Captain Nathaniel's reaction to the dress was satisfying, at the very least.

           The princesses were another matter. Sylvia had been surprised when they came to call on her almost as soon as she had settled in. They were both curious chatterboxes with bright happy laughter. Princess Dawn was very much what Sylvia had expected of a fairy girl: graceful and charming, if very young. Princess Marianne, however, was something else: opinionated, adventuresome, and surprisingly clumsy. The last, Sylvia would not have expected of a Fairy princess, much less the Crown Princess.

           They were so sweet, though, those girls. As soon as they had seen Sylvia's dress, they immediately offered to send seamstresses to her, and gifted her with the petals the fairies used for their own dresses. Sylvia taught them old embroidery tricks in exchange. Dawn was thrilled; Marianne was curious, but such crafts were clearly not of interest.

           As Ambassador, Sylvia was invited to some of the Council meetings that were considered relevant. They were generally ones that dealt with trade, although she had been invited to one or two specifically about border talks thus far. She accepted every invitation, and spent time in the archives otherwise, learning everything she could.

           There was a lot of consternation at her first appearance. Angry councilors all but accusing her of spying, plotting evil, and destroying the kingdom. They demanded to know what the Dark Forest wanted, who she was really, what her true role at home was.

           So far, she had only made gentle suggestions and made polite requests for more information, because she was to understand the lay of the land before she proposed anything radical, and she, too, understood the chaos and upset that changes could bring. She was rewarded with sneering lectures about the grand history of the Fairy Kingdom, to which she nodded and made notes of, and compared to what she knew, what she remembered.

           She needed to do this. They had to get used to her at some point, and she needed all the ammunition she could garner. She could put up with all their aggressive posturing and interrogations.

           What surprised her was Marianne, who, despite her father's admonishments, argued with the staid old councilors, oh how she argued-! They were worse than the Elders of the Forest, who at least respected protocol enough to capitulate to Bog when Bog had been young and similarly feisty towards them. Perhaps because they knew they were there to serve the Bog King and help him rule. They were old and cranky because they had to be, to push the King's decision-making integrity. (That stupid love ban was made without their input, which just went to show how wrong-headed it was.)

           These fairy councilors just didn't seem to like a young spitfire. They muttered under their breaths about marrying her off as soon as possible, and prayed for a more... obliging king.

           If anything, Sylvia determined that she should stick it out for Marianne's sake, at least. There didn't seem to be any other women on the council, and it was heartbreaking to watch the old men try to browbeat their princess down.

           "You did well," Sylvia told Marianne during a recess, finally catching a moment alone with the princess.

           "You think so?" Marianne asked, sounding a little fatigued. "It doesn't feel that way. Is it always supposed to be like this?"

           "You will get better at this," Sylvia promised. "I don't know very much about your Fairy politics, but the Council will bend to you eventually. It's good you got started so early."

           "Marianne!" King Dagda called from the other side of the room.

           As the princess trotted off, Sylvia was accosted--she had no other word for how three old men were suddenly in front of her when she was trying to get more biscuits. She raised an eyebrow, looking around for Captain Nathaniel. "Gentlemen."

           "Gobliness, you shouldn't be speaking to Princess Marianne."

           Sylvia tilted her head inquiringly.

           "We don't know what the Dark Forest is playing at, but know that we'll defend the Fairy Kingdom with our last breath."

           "Don't you dare try to convert the princess to your filthy ways," another hissed at her.

           She munched at her biscuit, saying nothing.

           They glared at her, as if daring her to speak.

           The recess was over. As they filed back into the room, Sylvia felt Captain Nathaniel beside her.

           "Are you all right?" he asked in low tones.

           She put a hand on his arm, and smiled. Still silent, she sashayed into the meeting, ready to take more notes.

           She was descended of spiders, after all.

#

4: Family Secrets

             It only took two months before Ambassador Sylvia was stir-crazy from being confined to the Palace.  She picked a nice-looking afternoon when she felt reasonably sure very few people would be around to see her, and finally worked the courage to ask Captain Nathaniel if she was allowed out of the Palace, at least into some garden of some kind, because if she had to see more walls, she was going to build webs, and wouldn't that just terrify the staff, and she would actually do it.

           To his credit, he didn't blanche, and laughed instead.

           "I was wondering whether you were just a homebody," he admitted, still chuckling.

           "I certainly am not," she huffed. "I just didn't know what I was allowed to do. I am practically a prisoner here, Captain. You forget that I am the only goblin on the premises."

           He sobered a little. "I... I'm sorry, Madame Ambassador. I'll be a bit more forthright in the future in volunteering more information."

           "That would be nice."

           "There are some palace grounds. I'm afraid they're not that interesting on the ground--it has interesting rock formations for flying around."

           "Ah, for fliers, then."

           Nathaniel smiled crookedly. "Is that what you goblins call us?"

           "No, it's what wingless goblins call those with wings. Surely you have people here without wings, Captain. Elves? Brownies? What do they call you?"

           "Lords and ladies." Captain Nathaniel shrugged, his expression sardonic.

           "Oh, you have a sharp tongue. I like that very much, Captain."

           Captain Nathaniel had the grace to blush, and gestured gallantly for her to follow him. He politely refrained from flying off and showed her the appropriate staircases down.

           The gardens were not much to look at, but they were green and colourful. Sylvia squinted at the sunny sky overhead. Without trees, the sunshine was rather strong. The rock formations, however, were very interesting. Not that Captain Nathaniel could tell her anything about them.

           The sound of wood thwacking against rock caught her attention, and she approached it to see the Crown Princess, wielding a stick and attacking a rock piece. She put all her might into it, yelling every time she hit it.

           "Your stance needs to be wider, Your Highness," Sylvia called.

           Marianne yelped and fell backwards. "Madam Sylvia!" She got up hastily, running a hand through her tousled hair. "Uh... how long were you there for?"

           "Not very long. Is this how you spend your lazy afternoons? I thought all you fairies napped in preparation for nighttime parties, or something."

           "Well... it's the only time no one's around," Marianne muttered, kicking something. "Promise you won't tell my Dad?"

           "Uhm." Sylvia turned to Nathaniel, eyebrow raised. "I feel I'm missing something here. Why wouldn't your father want you training?"

           "Girls apparently don't belong in the army." Marianne made a face. "They don't fight."

           "But that's... not... true? Even among Fairy Queens? Queen Eresdia fought with a spear in one hand and a broadsword in the other. Then there was the Army of Thorns which was comprised of all women. Also, Queen Melinda, also known as the May Fire Queen, was quite proficient with any blade from yea-short to yea-long." Sylvia used her hands to demonstrate the length. "I don't know what they were called, though. The memory gets fuzzy on that kind of detail." She noticed the two fairies staring at her, and put a hand to her mouth. "Oops."

           "I... had heard of the May Fire Queen, and the other names are familiar, but never that they fought." Captain Nathaniel narrowed his eyes. "How would you know those things?"

           "Ah, well." Sylvia scratched her head. "I suppose it had to come out eventually. A few, very few, species of goblins are born with the memories of the generations before. We call it foremother memory, though sometimes it is forefather memory." She tapped her cheek thoughtfully. "It isn't perfect, and some of us have completely different memories of the same events sometimes, because different people have different interpretations of the same thing, obviously! But I do have several foremothers who have battled the fairy queens in the past. Personally, even." She grinned at Marianne. "So you see, princess, whoever taught you that girls don't fight, are wrong. Even in goblin songs, the most fearsome foes have been fairy queens."

           "A Living Memory. I thought your kind a myth." Captain Nathaniel pursed his lips, frowning. "This is information you should divulge to the King, Madam Ambassador."

           "It just hasn't come up." Sylvia waved a hand. "Also it is never a good idea to tell kings this sort of thing. They usually try to kill you for it."

           "Not fairy kings!" Marianne gasped.

           "I assure you, Princess, fairy kings, and goblin kings. There are very few of us as a result." It was half the truth, but they didn't need to know that. Anyway, it made her sad to think about.

           "So not all goblins are like you?" Marianne pressed further. "What other species of goblin can remember things?"

           "Mostly us spiders, and the Swarm, of course. Bees have a collective consciousness, you know."

           "Madam Ambassador," Captain Nathaniel firmly said. "You have to tell the King that you're a Living Memory."

           "Or what," Sylvia scoffed.

           "Or I will tell him myself."

           Sylvia stiffened, taking in the grim line of her guard's mouth and the furrow of his brow.

           He flushed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I understand that it's a--a family secret. But I have my duty to the King, too."

           "I just told the Princess. Doesn't count?"

           "Nice try. No."

           "Ugh." Sylvia rolled her eyes. "Fine. Get me an audience with the King, and I'll tell him." She looked down at Princess Marianne. "Before that, though, perhaps, Princess, you need further instruction."

           Sylvia relished the delight on Marianne's face, almost as much as she relished the long-suffering roll of Nathaniel's eyes as she browbeat him into teaching Marianne.

#

5: History Will Hurt You

             It was inevitable, perhaps, that her lineage would spill out in Council meetings. Well, the King called it her lineage. She just called it a family thing. When she had told King Dagda, she had demanded political immunity.

           A meeting about border talks, and just how much trade to let through. Sylvia had been focusing on deep breathing, because they were counting in terms of how many individual caravans should be allowed through per year, which was so asinine it was taking a lot of willpower to not scream, or get up and leave. Among her notes were goblin elders similarly grousing about trade and allowing fairies into the Dark Forest. Well, only two, because those were the only ones who cared enough to write her back. Captain Nathaniel vetted all her letters, so she couldn't even pour her frustrations out in paper to Auntie Griselda, or yell at Bog for not responding to her reports.

           Perhaps she could have been more measured in her response, a bit more careful in how she replied, but hindsight was clearer than the moment.

           "We must consider how this will affect our own economy," some windbag called Glaucus was pontificating. "In the height of King Samiel's reign, we allowed caravans to pass through, and that was enough to bring down the dynasty!"

           Marianne had made a face. "But King Samiel was a peacekeeper, and the war following wasn't because of the trade caravans... it was a civil war between two noble houses-"

           "Marianne." King Dagda had frowned.

           Marianne, already worn down for the day, bowed her head. Sylvia wanted to smack the King. What was it with this generation of kings, she wondered. Why was she cursed with them?

           "King Samiel's reign was the most prosperous in a ten-generation range. Nobody in the markets even cared about the petty civil war between House Nikel and House Reale, although there was a very good tragic play about it. I believe you call it Rome and Rosalind. The dynasty fell four generations after, because his great grandson was assassinated by a Duke. Big news. The Forest talked about the murder for weeks, because it involved a very interesting arsenic compound, or some such."

           Sylvia stopped there, smiling at Marianne. "I think you have been a very good student, Your Highness."

           "Hoo boy," she heard Captain Nathaniel, standing right behind her, mutter under his breath, too low for anyone else to hear.

           The councillors, however, were aghast. "How would you know that?" Glaucus snapped.

           "Madam Sylvia," King Dagda said, holding a hand up for silence. "While your Living Memory is useful, I don't believe what you've shared is relevant to this conversation, which is about the present time."

           The hubbub flared up instead. A Living Memory -- right here? -- she's a Living Memory -- they're extinct! -- she must have read it somewhere -- can she even read? -- stupid thing to say anyway --

           "Your Majesty, you may be right, but then, neither are Sir Glaucus' words, because he was the first one to bring up a king five hundred years dead." She took a moment to consult her notes on a more recent historical note. "Perhaps we should look to your grandfather's time, then, as a model? A single market, held every two years, right at the border. It lasted all the way until the Winter Famine of Three Seasons, and was simply never picked up again." Due to fairy resistance, she mentally added. Granted, the Forest Royals were never crazy about it either. Goblin commoners and elves liked it just fine.

           "And you, what, remember that?" Glaucus sneered.

           "I remember the festivals, yes, but not quite the dates, which I found in your archives." She folded her hands on the table to give him a serene smile. "I'm not stupid enough to think that you would take Living Memories seriously."

           "Living Memories are extinct," he asserted.

           She held her hands up. "Why, what a surprise. I must be some mass hallucination of this Council, then."

           "Or you, Madam, are a fraud!"

           She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and steepling her hands. What did she know about this one? Ah, yes. "House Erendl hired one of my ancestresses once. She was working as a mercenary, internecine war and all that, a little under a hundred years ago. A drop of poison into the goblet of the patriarch of House Fyrel. She was so smug, because no one knew how she did it."

           "What?" someone shouted from down the table. "Lord Norrel died of a heart attack!"

           "Which threw the whole house into a tizzy, destabilizing the household and allowing House Erendl to offer aid, in the form of assimilating House Fyrel, and all of its assets, into itself." She smiled brightly. "That's from your history books. Now, my ancestress had been in the rafters of the dining hall and spit a bit of venom into his drink. Here's the good bit: if the hall still stands, there's a little scratch on the top western corner of the room, reading 'Latish was here' in fairy script."

           That someone down the table gasped. "That... how did you... but Latish was a joke! He's supposed to be an elf!"

           "Latish is not an elf name, come on. It is a very spider name." She leaned back. "But let's be honest here, how should a northern spider know about such a specific family joke here in the Fairy Kingdom?"    

           "This meeting is adjourned. We will table the consideration of caravan trade until next fortnight," King Dagda declared. "Madam Sylvia, stay."

           Sylvia stayed still as everyone else in the room filed out, outraged whispers abounding. Marianne insisted on staying too, but King Dagda shot her a quelling look.

           Finally, it was just her, and maybe Nathaniel was behind her, she didn't care to check, and King Dagda.

           "Madam Sylvia, we... appreciate... your support of our daughter."

           Oh, the royal 'we'.

           "However, we would rather not have her outbursts encouraged at meetings. Not to mention that flagrant display of your Living Memory." He frowned. "We are at peace now, Madam Sylvia, and we would like to keep it that way."

           "Of course, Your Majesty. Sparking a feud anew would be... awkward."

           The king nodded. "We will request your advice in the future. Be assured that your presence remains most welcome at the table."

           He was a very bad liar, this king. "Your Majesty, if I may ask..."

           "Yes?"

           "What do you think of the goblins, and of the Dark Forest?"

           He blinked at her now, blank-faced. "I, well..."

           Dropping the royal 'we'. He must have been very surprised.

           Sylvia watched as he fumbled through some platitudes about the two kingdoms co-existing in peace for the last several centuries with no trouble, and she wondered if he genuinely believed that. It was hard to know what the memory-less knew about the past. Did he genuinely think that the barely-contained disgust that his fairy council had for her and her kind was because goblins were truly less civilized, prone to violence, and hideous? Or was he willfully blind, purposefully ignoring the Purging Century, when fairies burned down the Forest to create the Kingdom they called the Bright Meadow, hunted down goblins to decimate them? The memories swirled in her mind's eye, unbidden. There had never been any healing for the foremothers.

           When he was done, she nodded.

           "Good day, Madam Ambassador," the King said, and rose from his seat to leave. She waited until he had closed the door behind her before she, too, rose (though not from a chair; the advantage to being a spider was that she didn't need a seat. She just rested on her belly).

           Captain Nathaniel had been behind her all along. "That was the most exciting thing I've witnessed," he said, good humour playing at his lips. "I think I'm in the wrong line of work."

           She gave him a wan smile, still overwhelmed by the whole thing. Shouldn't have asked the King that question, she thought. But she had to know. Had to find out, in order to decide how to best proceed.

           The fairy guard held an arm out to her. She regarded it a moment, brow knitting in confusion, then relaxed. It was a peace offering, a gesture of solicitude. She took the arm, aware of how thin it was in her hand, how fragile, how easily her talons could cut through his skin. It was easy to forget he was a fairy sometimes, since he stood tall even among fairies. As he led her back to her rooms, passing by fairies who looked at them askance and greeted him with a question marks in their voices, she let herself be a little sad. For all her Living Memory--what a joke of a title--it didn't seem to make a bit of difference here.

           He opened the door for her, and she brushed past him to get in, wanting more than anything to lie down.

           "Madam Ambassador," he said suddenly as the door was closing.

           She stopped, inquiringly.

           He took a moment to find his words. "I thought... it was very kind of you to defend Her Highness the way you did."

           "That is what we are supposed to do for the young, Captain."

           "Of... of course." He snapped a salute. "Good afternoon, Madam Ambassador."

#

6: Letters

             "To His Majesty, the Bog King of the Dark Forest, under whose shade we may ever find shelter,

           "I respectfully request a response to my latest reports on the possibility of a market on the border between the Dark Forest and Bright Meadow. I am given to understand that Elder Abrax and Elder Johan have expressed their full support of the idea to you.

           "I look forward to your answer.

           "Your humble servant."

           She hoped he choked on his guilt.

             "Dear Aunt Griselda,

           "I am so, so, so sorry that I have not written you all these months. The Fairy authorities have apparently been withholding your letters from me all this while! Also, I have a guard who reads all my letters, which is so embarrassing, and I was so mad so I didn't really want to write anyway.

           "I am also sorry to hear that my dearest cousin, who I love with all my heart but who I am definitely still angry at, continues his 'ban on love.' I utterly agree that it is a singularly foolish idea, but what can be done, he's the King, or so he made clear to me before he sent me on this mission. I gather that he continues to ignore your admonitions, but I don't think any word from me is going to help any.

           "The Fairy Kingdom is something else! There are all sorts of rules here that are obviously very new, or at least I don't remember them at all, nor even my foremothers. There are five different forks at the dinner table, and ten different colours to signal one's interest in the opposite sex. None of which I am allowed to wear, because I am a goblin, after all, and am not supposed to be interested in fairy men. I had a very snooty protocol minister tell me this, and you will be proud of me for my response: 'your ancestors had no problem mating with mine back in the day.' I am still very pleased with this answer, and I thought I would share.

           "The princesses are adorable, and they make my stay worthwhile. Such open hearts. Their best friend is an elf, even, from a nearby village. He visits them often, and they play together on the palace grounds. It's quite the sight, and apparently a source of consternation. The elder girl is a fiesty one, so full of fire and big ideas for what she wants to do as Queen. The Councilors, who are all elderly men struggling to remain relevant in this day and age, are trying to snuff her out. I am going to support her the best I can, but I worry for the child. She has few fairy friends, and among her peers, she does stand out a bit strong, not because she's a princess.

           "The winter was terrible. The fairies 'huddle' for warmth during the cold season, which means to say all the fairies pack themselves into the castle and live in extremely close quarters for several months. It was an awful experience and I am still recovering. They said they're the traumatized ones, having to deal with my spider-legs, ha! Thank goodness for spring! I am going to hibernate next year.

           "I run out of parchment now, but I will try to keep writing. Is Bog really having the primroses cut down on his side of the border? People are talking about the fearsome Bog King who has imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy and banned love. I have had to bite my tongue more than once in the face of certain concerned queries.

           "Do keep writing, auntie dearest! Your letters do my heart such good!"

             She considered making a saucy remark about her bodyguard, because his usually-sallow face is so becoming with a blush. However, he had to maintain a professional distance, and he hadn't really done anything to deserve the discomfort of a goblin flirting with him.

             "Dear cousin,

           "Your reputation is making my job difficult for me this side of the border.

           "Stop it already.

           "Your loving cousin."

             That was probably not the wisest note to send off, but it felt good.

             "To her wonderful highness, Princess Marianne,

           "What a lovely note you sent! I am so touched by your concern. Yes, it is indeed a cold, as I am unused to your weather here. Your architecture is so drafty! But the doors hold and I am not unlocking them until I have recovered fully. Even if you did break it down, you will not be able to get me out of my web, anyway.

           "Do not worry for me! I am resting well, and we spiders can go for quite some time without food if we have eaten a great deal beforehand. Captain Nathaniel has done his job very well in this regard. I hope your father promotes him.

           "I know council meetings are very hard on you, but they will get easier over time. Have courage, highness! Remember, you are their Crown Princess and your words carry a weight they can only dream of."

             She slipped that under the door out, knocking for Captain Nathaniel to pick it up and deliver it. Then she crawled into the large cocoon-like web she made to completely encase her for the next few days. She would have to make something for Nathaniel, though, because he had walked in on her as she made it and she had been so frenzied in the process she almost ate him. That had not been her finest moment, and thank goodness it was Nathaniel and not anybody else. He was hard to throw off, that one. Sylvia respected that.

             "Dear Auntie Griselda,

           "So much has been going on! Princess Marianne finally made her official debut into fairy society and it was a very grand celebration. She still keeps her treasured talents a secret from her father, and there is something so awkward, so straining to watch. She needs a mother figure! I wish you were here. You would know just what to say. I have foremother memory, of course, but that is not the same as having raised my own child. I am doing my best. Channel me some of your spirit!

           "However, why do you insist on inflicting Bog on these poor girls you keep mentioning to me? Any girl who'll willingly put up with that surly temper is not fitting Queen material, Auntie. That said, if you find a woman willing to challenge him to a real fight, let me know. I'll defy his edict to return and watch that.

           "I do believe that over time, my presence in this Court has made something of a difference. The princesses are unafraid of me, and this is setting the tone for many of the people who see them regularly. There is talk of letting me leave the Palace grounds, even, to visit the nearby towns and villages. I will not lie: the idea does make me feel like an exhibit, but the princesses are such sweet girls, so curious about the Dark Forest. Do talk to Bog about a possible visitation from the Fairy princesses, Auntie, because they will not stop asking, and I promised them I would try.

           "My former bodyguard, Captain Nathaniel, no longer watches over me. He has been replaced by a rotating company of protocol advisors. I even have an elf secretary, which is a strange feeling. All these years, I've always played secretary to Bog, and now here I am with my own secretary! I do believe this is Marianne's--Princess Marianne's--influence. She is small, but mighty.

           "In your next letter, I wonder if you could slip me some herbs from the Dark Forest to cook with? Or at least make some tea? Fairy food is nice but it is nothing like food from home. I would say that I'd kill for a good meat jerky but that might alarm the person who vets my letters."

             She didn't say she missed Captain Nathaniel, because the last thing she needed was for Aunt Griselda to take an interest in her nonexistant love life, even from afar.

           But she missed his quiet presence a great deal. Incredible how calming he was, compared to the other fairies who nervously stuttered every time she answered the door.

             "Dear Councilor Nathaniel,

           "Thank you for the congratulations and well-wishes on my new house. It is strange to think of it as a home--it is still, in my mind, on the wrong side of the primroses. You are, of course, welcome to visit it anytime you like, so long as you give me prior notice.

           "It is now my turn to tender you a hearty congratulations on being appointed to the legislative council. I am still trying to understand what it means, being from a foreign land with a very different form of government, but I am sure you are well-qualified for it.

           "I look forward to your future accomplishments as councilor."

             That was strangely awkward to write. She fiddled with the last line for a long time. Glancing at the wastebasket, she cringed at the drafts: ones where she accidentally still called him "Captain," ones she thought perhaps sounded too intimate (no one read her letters anymore but it was still embarrassing, though she wasn't sure why), ones that sounded too formal. What was the right balance of warm and professional?

           The house, right on a brook between Sunny's village and the castle, was large, larger than the houses in the village, which made her feel awkward. These common folk, who have lived here longer than she ever did, living in much smaller, modest homes. She didn't deserve the house she got, she mused. But it was spacious enough for her needs, maybe too big, but that was filling up with the projects she was filling her time with. More weaving, more music, and more paperwork.

           From her highest window, she could see the Dark Forest, the huddled trees beckoning to her. She tried not to look at it too often. The pang in her heart wasn't worth the view.

#

7: A Spring Ball

             Councilor John was a portly fairy man who was from a merchant family that had bought its way up the ranks. He had recently been appointed to the trade council, and was one of the very few--well, maybe the only one--who openly supported trade with the Dark Forest.

           He was also a bit of a windbag, which Sylvia politely tolerated even though she would like nothing more than to just go home. An hour in his company was quite enough to tire her out for the rest of the evening. But Sylvia had no other company at the ball, so she allowed him to monopolize her time. It wouldn't be the first time a social function like this one was occupied by business for her.

           The Spring Ball was otherwise lively: Marianne was the life of the party, sweet and happy as she flew among the other young fairies in the upper half of the room. The older folks sedately mingled on the floor, talking shop, drinking wine.

           "Good evening." They turned to see Nathaniel, standing ramrod straight as if he were still a soldier, though there was a slight relaxation to his stance.

           Sylvia smiled, relieved to see him. "Councilor."

           He nodded his head, returning the smile. "Madam Ambassador, it has been a while."

           "Busy, busy."

           "Councilor," he said to John. "Might I renew my acquaintance with Ambassador Sylvia? It has been a while since I saw her last, and you see her practically every week."

           "Of course, Councilor," John said, looking vaguely amused. "Nothing like the company of an intelligent woman, eh?"

           Nathaniel guided her away with a gentle hand on her elbow, towards a quieter corner of the ballroom. "You looked like you were about to faint there."

           She laughed. "My hero. I might have." Then she softened, taking in his face. There were a few more lines than she had seen there before. "How have you been? I was... surprised to discover that you were no longer working with the castle guard." Disappointed, more like, and even moreso when she heard he had requested the transfer.

           "Adapting to council life has been a little hard," he admitted. "But it was time for a career change, in no small part thanks to you." He grinned at her, which made him look years younger.

           "Me?"

           "I joined the guard to defend the Royal Family, as you know. Watching you at council, defending our princess, made me realize that that was where the true work is at."

           "Why..." she was speechless, and put a hand to her mouth to hide her pleasure. "It, uhm... it must be a different world for you now."

           "Oh yes, one with a few more freedoms, like this one."

           "Like what?"

           He glanced to the orchestra, then smiled at her. "A dance, Madam Ambassador?"

           She blinked. She had seen the fairy dances, and Marianne and Dawn had taught her the steps, because of course they would, but no one had ever asked her before. "You realize I have eight feet, which raises your chances of getting your feet stepped on?"

           "I also know your feet are set very far apart from mine, so I think we'll be fine."

           "Also that you can't twirl me around?"

           "Madam Ambassador, if you don't want to dance, I shan't take offense. We can take a mooonlit walk instead."

           She drew a sharp breath. "Councilor." She held out her hand. "Let's see if you can lead as well as you flirt."

           He could. It was a simple waltz, with no embellishing movement, quick enough that her skirts swished, slow enough that they fell into a comfortable rhythm and chatter.

           "Are there no dances in the Dark Forest?" he asked.

           "There are, but not quite so formal like this. The formal ones are often solo performances designed to attract mates." She grinned. "And thus only danced by men." She thought his grip on her hand got a little tighter, and amended. "There are some groups with their own dances. We spiders do fun things with webbing."

           "It must be a sight to see."

           "Oh, it's marvelous." She sighed, suddenly homesick. "On spring evenings, right after the rains, we challenge each other to dance on the webs without disturbing the dewdrops."

           "No music?"

           She laughed softly. "Councilor, our webs are also instruments." She didn't think about it often. Wearing skirts meant hiding access to her spinnarets. "Do you play?"

           He shook his head. "I'm afraid my physical skills are limited to combat. Are you still giving Princess Marianne secret lessons, by the way?"

           "Occasionally. I try to meet with her once a week. She's easily distractable, which does terrible things for her footwork."

           "A shame. She seems very capable. Perhaps I'll join you sometime."

           She smiled. "I think Her Highness would appreciate that."

           As the song ended, they walked off the floor, his hand on the small of her back as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Someone waved to him from the side of the room, and before she could say anything, he was leading her there, too.

           "Donna," he greeted the waving fairy woman, one in a clump of four other fairy women. "Madam Ambassador, may I introduce my sister and her friends, Karen, May, Olivia, and Rain."

           "Madam Ambassador," Donna said, her face unreadable. It was clear to Sylvia that the sister expected Nathaniel to not bring the goblin ambassador over. "Nathaniel, is this the goblin you were guarding last year?"

           He nodded.

           Sylvia stuck out a hand. "A pleasure."

           Donna seemed to recover her sense of courtesy and took her hand, if hesitantly. Sylvia asked them all their houses, families, and took careful mental notes on who had which expressions.

           They were all married, these women, no Spring debutantes. Sylvia felt she ought to be relieved to be around women her age, but their faint air of arrogance left much to be desired. They were friendly enough, and gossipy enough that when Nathaniel walked off to fetch a drink, they pressed in eagerly.

           "Nathaniel hasn't danced with a woman in ten years," Donna said, much impressed. "We're all very shocked, because we were convinced he joined the castle guard to be around men."

           Sylvia was caught very short by this sudden turn. "Councilor Nathaniel and I have only recently renewed our acquaintanceship. I haven't seen him in a year."

           "Even during winter?"

           "I hibernate in winter, Lady Donna." That wasn't strictly true, as winters in the Dark Forest weren't quite as bitingly cold. Still, Foresters got a lot of sleeping done in winter. Spring was a period of extended morning grouchiness as a result. "The first winter I joined the Huddle, but the second year I needed much needed time alone." She smiled faintly. "I'm sure everyone appreciated my absence."

           "Oh no, Madam Ambassador!" This was Karen. "Some of us were actually quite worried for you! We had to have the elves check on your residence."

           "Is it true that everyone goes naked in the Dark Forest?"

           "Is it true that the Bog King has imprisoned the Sugar Plum Fairy? How did he do it?"

           "Is it true that goblins have--"

           "Is it true--"

           Sylvia managed to stutter her way through some of the most awkward and possibly also most offensive questions she had ever fielded. So much for women being more genteel than men here. But her good grace must have done something, because eventually they moved onto her dress, and invited her to their embroidery circle.

           When Nathaniel came to extricate her with ostensibly another dance, she almost fell into his arms in relief. "I'm leaving right after this," she gasped.

           "That bad?"

           "I mean, they are nice, but I'm not used to talking so much! And I thought the princesses were chatterboxes!"

           "Oh no, don't you know, Madam Ambassador, chattering is the default mode of a fairy?"

           She glowered at him. "Are you trying to make me hate my job, Councilor?"

#

8: Duo

             Crown Princess Marianne of the Bright Meadow was in love. Dawn told Sylvia one day as they said embroidering together. "She met him at the Spring Ball, and he danced with her all night. Do you think I'll meet someone at the Spring Ball?"

           It was hard to remember how small Dawn had been just a few scant years ago. "Life holds no such promises. Watch your lines."

           Sylvia tried very hard to like him, but within a month, she decided she hated him.

           She couldn't tell Marianne, who was so happy, beaming on the young man's arm at every function, nor Dawn, who would probably just tell her sister. So she ranted at Nathaniel instead.

           "He is a blithering idiot! And dragging her to his level. She barely talks at council now, and everytime I look at her notes she's doodling his name somewhere. I get that it's young love, but come on. And he encourages this! Marianne doesn't need to go to council, because when he is King, he will handle it! Marianne doesn't need to worry her 'pretty little head' because when he is King, he'll take care of her! It makes me want to gag!"

           Nathaniel, in turn, leaned back in his chair and looked up at her, because she was pacing on her ceiling. There was too much furniture on the floor. For a flier culture, there was a lot of floor furniture, she felt, so she paced on her walls and ceiling instead.

           "I asked her to bring him to council meetings, and he apparently refused! And she sees nothing wrong with that! How can you claim to want to be King and then refuse to at least participate in the conversations which Kings are supposed to be in?"

           "It's only been two months, Sylvia. Give them time." Nathaniel picked up his report again.

           "It only takes a single blow to ruin a masterpiece," Sylvia lamented. "Look at my cousin. He used to be smarter, until one love affair ruined him, and possibly for life."

           "I thought you said the Bog King was always recalcitrant, and surly, and uncooperative."

           "Yes well, he at least used to be able to see past his own nose. And Marianne's form has gotten sloppy, just so you know. I'm no soldier, and even I can see that."

           "You underestimate your skills."

           Sylvia finished ranting and crossed her arms, taking a deep breath.

           "How is your cousin, by the way?"

           "Still an idiot."

           By this she meant, and she knew Nathaniel understood, that the Bog King had not written her any letters beyond official responses to her reports, terse notes on what he agreed with and what he did not want to see. They were far and few in between, but given that fairy councils dragged business on forever and a half, Sylvia couldn't really blame him.

           "What do you think of the young man, anyway?" She finally calmed down enough to walk down the wall and sit at the table, pouring herself a cup of tea.

           "Well... I was surprised, honestly. Roland had never really struck me as anything but military. His talk about being King seems to be more about wanting to be a match for Marianne than actual qualification for the job." He sipped his own tea. "But then, love matches aren't really about qualifications, are they?"

           "They are, for royals."

           Nathaniel raised an eyebrow over his teacup. "Then why aren't you married to the Bog King?"

           "You're adorable. Are you implying I'm qualified to be a royal?"

           "Implying? I feel I am outright stating."

           "Ha!" Sylvia rested her elbows on the table. "Spiders aren't really suited to being royalty. There have been two spider queens in the past, but they abdicated. Too much dealing with people. Too much pressure."

           "But advising the King is enough pressure? How is that much different from being Queen?"

           "It's a different set of responsibilities. Being Queen would have required too much personal proximity that interferes with advising the King. This much we agreed upon."

           Nathaniel blinked at her. "You, ah, were involved with the Bog King?"

           "Of course I was," she snorted. "We were best friends growing up. It was inevitable that we'd be dating at some point. But we were... closer, when we weren't romantically involved." She smiled pensively. "One day he'll meet someone, and she's going to be a lucky girl. If he finally snaps out of his ridiculous broody mode of life."

           They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, broken by a hesitant question. "And you? Do you ever hope to find someone?"

           Sylvia took a moment. It wasn't as though she had never thought about it. It was just so complicated.            

           "You don't have to answer that." Nathaniel picked up his report again.

           "No. I mean." She sighed. "It's difficult, for my people." She looked into her tea. "My people are called widows, you know?"

           "As in... the spiders who eat their husbands?"

           She nodded. "It has definitely happened. It was definitely a thing. But that's not the real problem. It's our skin. We're venomous, and our skin is sometimes poisonous to people. Not everyone, but some. And... and mating is a difficult thing for us. Because exchanging fluids is difficult. The more likely widows conceive from a mating, the more likely the mate wastes away and dies from poison."

           After a moment, Nathaniel leaned over and poured her more tea. "Is that why there are so few of you?"

           "Yes and no. There are fewer of us because... because of the Purging Century." She drank her tea, watching his reaction carefully. "Do you know of it?"

           He shook his head.

           "You call it the Clearing For the Field," she said quietly. "I... none of my foremothers... ever like to think of it. But we remember."

           He held her gaze steadily, and the lines around his eyes deepened with sadness.

           She took a deep breath. "That, and coupled with the fact that most of us don't want to be widows... we just end up... not having children." She laughed a little. "It's a little hard to do. It's no fun to have sex with someone who you'd want to kill anyway, but when it's someone you do want to be with, what can you say? 'I want to have your children but there is a fifty-fifty chance you'll die'? That probably isn't healthy for a relationship. And it's not good for the children either, who will remember."

           "There are no memories of mates who loved and gave themselves up willingly?"

           "Those are the worst memories. Ruined husbands. Wasting away. Why would anyone want to inflict that on a loved one willingly?"

           "Another reason to not be with the Bog King, I imagine."

           "Ha. No. His line is actually immune. Long line of kings and queens who survived poisoning by ingesting it and making it part of their blood. It would be my luck the one person I know to be safe would be someone I can't be with." She shrugged. "Luckily it's not a priority anyway. That was another thing Bog and I differed in."

           He nodded.

           It occurred to her, then, something someone else had said. "What's your story, Councilor Didn't-Dance-With-A-Woman-For-Ten-Years?" She lowered her head to rest it on an arm.

           He mimicked her shrug. "Not a priority." At her interested stare, he gave a small laugh. "I'm not joking. I simply don't feel the need, nor the desire. I aesthetically appreciate beauty, I suppose, but even during spring, when we're supposed to be at our most frisky, I simply don't get the urge."

           It was her turn to fill his cup with tea.

           "It's not that I never want to, but it is not necessarily tied to specific persons. And of course, one cannot cultivate any kind of physical affection with another without the expectations of... well."

           "Mm. It is nice to cuddle. That is one thing I miss."

           "How do you know if you're venomous to a person, anyway?"

           Sylvia thought for a moment. "It depends. Some people get a rash when they come in contact with us. Others feel sick afterwards. There have been cases of people just keeling over and dying. They don't call us the clan of poison kisses for no reason."

           He reached across the table, and touched her teacup. "May I?"

           Her gaze flicked between his face and her cup. "It'd be your funeral, but I'd rather you not die in my house. It would be terrible for foreign relations."

           "I'll fly out if I start feeling ill. Deal?"

           He didn't die that night. Nor the next. Nor the next. She didn't know why he insisted on taking that risk, but she appreciated it.

           Sylvia was comforted by the fact that she had one person in her life who seemed to dislike Roland as much as she did, though they weren't the only ones in the court who didn't support the match. Nathaniel also winced as the knight burst into song publicly, frowned as the Crown Princess squirmed in embarrassment and delight, and sighed as everyone gushed about how adorable the romance was. Eventually, though, it was clear that Nathaniel also hated Roland, but for some other different reason.

           A visit to a blacksmith, Nathaniel giving the excuse that he wanted to fetch something on the way to the palace. There was a training barracks nearby, and they spotted the princesses and some friends giggling as they hovered at the top of the fence, looking in.

           "I thought I should keep my hand in. Council meetings make me feel so soft after," Nathaniel was saying as he walked in.

           The blacksmith was an elf, large and robust for his people, who grinned as he saw the fairy and the goblin walk in. "Councilor! Madam Ambassador! Welcome!"

           "Master Kor. Is it done?"

           "Yes it is! For a while, actually. I wasn't sure when you wanted it, but, here." The blacksmith unwrapped something and handed it to Nathaniel. Sylvia, standing behind him at the door observing the girls, didn't notice at first, until he touched her shoulder.

           "Here."

           "Hm?" She registered that he was holding a weapon to her.

           "You favour the staff. I thought you might want one of your own."

           "Sorry, what?" she realized she was being very slow on the uptake, but the staff was a beautiful iron with filigree designs on both ends, twining around like wisps of mist.

           Or spiderwebs.

           She gingerly took the staff, weighing it in her hand, her mouth open in a silent "oh." She almost missed Kor handing a sword to Nathaniel.

           "Does the weight suit you, Madam Ambassador?" Kor asked eagerly. "Councilor Nathaniel only gave me the one you used for practice, but it's not the same thing."

           "Want to try it out?" Nathaniel nodded to the training barracks.

           "You realize that we don't use swords in the Dark Forest for a reason?" she drawled, letting him drag her by the hand to the gate. Past the grate she could see young soldiers practicing with each other.

           Dawn's voice pierced the air. "It's Sylvia!"

           Sylvia waved the staff at them. "Your Highnesses. Girls."

           "Are you duelling the Councilor, Sylvia?" Marianne called out enthusiastically. "Can we watch?" She climbed over the wall now, dropping in front of them. "Is that a new weapon? Can I see?"

           "Of course you may. Hold that for me a moment, please." Sylvia dropped the staff into Marianne's eager hands. "Now be aware, Councilor Nathaniel," she said as she started undoing the front buttons of her dress, "that you are about to fight a goblin." She threw off the dress, and her rightmost leg kicked it to the corner. "In case you needed a reminder of what you're up against," she told him at the sight of his raised eyebrow. It had been a while since she'd gone about without a dress.  

           "Madam Sylvia!" Dawn almost shrieked. "It's going to get dirty!" She swooped down to rescue the dress.

           The soldiers in the barracks had stopped, wide-eyed. Roland flitted over, flinty-eyed. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! What're you up to here, Councilor? Goblins not allowed in the barracks! We're supposed to be keeping them out!"

           "The Ambassador has political immunity, Lieutenant," Nathaniel said, shrugging off his coat. "And we shan't be long."

           "I'll leave as soon as I kick his ass," Sylvia promised, and the girls behind her laughed. She held her hand out to Marianne, who gave her back her staff.

           "Captain."

           "Pardon?" Nathaniel asked.

           "I'm Captain now."

           "Oh, that's nice." He drew out a little hourglass from a breastpocket. "Your Highness? Would you mind very much timing us?"

           "Oh, I'd love to!" Marianne held out her hands as Nathaniel tossed it to her.

           "Marianne!" Roland pleaded.

           "It'll be fine, Roland! It'll be fun! I've never seen them fight each other before!" She grinned up at him. "Ready?" she called, holding up the hourglass.  

           Nathaniel took his stance, and Sylvia checked her talons. "Anytime."

           "Go!"

           Despite Sylvia's relaxed opening stance, she met Nathaniel's sword easily. Twisting her body, she kicked at his legs with three of her own, almost throwing him off balance. He caught himself with his wings, landing blows. She jabbed and parried, he returned the blows with full force.

           Propelling himself with his wings, he landed a solid kick to her front carapace. She slid backwards, her hind legs keeping her upright, swinging the staff wide to parry his next blow coming at her side, and kicked him back. He flew up, preparing even more momentum.

           She flung a hand from her spinnarets and threw a thread up at his feet, snagging him and pulling.

           The girls gasped as she soared up while he fell, her legs wrapping around his front. She pulled the staff up to his neck, and he stopped it with his sword, uncomfortably close to his own nose. He spun higher and around, trying to throw her off, but her legs bit into him tighter. Too far above for anyone to see, she let one hand go of her staff, wrapping a hand around his neck.

           "In the Dark Forest, you'd be dead," she whispered into his ear as she curled her fingers and dug her talons into his neck. "Should have worn some armour, Councilor."

           "Time!" Marianne called from below.

           "Well, if I die tonight, you will have sex with me, right? Something to remember me by," he breathed, not really winded.

           "Ohhh, you, Councilor, are a true flirt!" She let go of his neck. "Can you get us down? I could let go, but the ground looks hard and I might sprain a foot."

           He was laughing as he lowered them down. She jumped off his back, grinning as she took her dress from Dawn.

           "A tie!" Marianne proclaimed.

           "No, she won," Nathaniel said off-handedly, rubbing his neck. "Sharp claws."

           "Really? We didn't see."

           "That's the point, Your Highness." Sylvia buttoned up, Dawn helping her adjust her skirts over her back legs.

           "Can you see it now, though?" Nathaniel pointed to his neck. "I might have to raise my collar." He touched the little red crescents. "That stings."

           "Let me see." She brushed her fingertips over the scratchmarks. "Hm, I did get you good."  

           "Madam Sylvia, your dress has a splotch!" Dawn complained. Sometimes she was a bossy mother hen of a thing.

           "That was the coolest thing!" The crown princess was clasping her hands together as she gushed. "Councilor, will you show me how that kick is done?"

           "Now now, Marianne!" Roland exclaimed. "Why would you need to learn that for?"

           "It looks cool!"

           "Babycakes, I'll do it for you if it means so much to you."

           "You'll teach me?" Marianne's excited squeal went up two octaves.

           "Uh, no... no, I mean that--"

           "Your Highness, if you'd like to stop by my house a week from now, Councilor Nathaniel can teach you that move." Sylvia fussed with Nathaniel's collar, helping him hide the clawmarks.

           "Can I come too?" Dawn asked. "I finished a piece I'd really like to show you."

           "You are always welcome, Your Highness," Sylvia said fondly.

           Behind them Roland made an unhappy noise as he stalked off to his soldiers.

           "That was really something!" one of them exclaimed.

           "A whole new fight style! We gotta find some goblins to spar with sometime."

           "That's disgusting," Roland sputtered. "I mean, yeah, it'd be interesting and make us better fighters, but still disgusting."

           Sylvia watched Marianne draw in a sharp gasp, and even Dawn had gone still. Nathaniel started walking towards the soldiers. "Nathaniel, no-" She sighed. "It's not a big deal."

           "It... it kinda is," Marianne muttered, embarrassed. She scratched the back of her head uncertainly. "Insulting a foreign dignitary can be grounds for arrest. I'll... I'll talk to him."

           "Can you?" Sylvia asked, then paused to think of the implications of the question that the crown princess had definitely caught.

           Nathaniel strode back, his gaze flinty, mouth set in a thin line.

           "That really wasn't necessary. I've heard much worse."

           He shook his head. "I know. From private citizens. But Roland is wearing his uniform, and saying that as a ranking officer. He needs to watch his mouth. He needs to learn," he continued, raising his voice, "especially if he wants to be King!"

           "Enough," Sylvia said quietly. "Councilor, I don't need more gossip about me from your defense."

           He frowned down at her. "It's a little late for that."

           And that was how Ambassador Sylvia found out that apparently she and Councilor Nathaniel were, in fairy words, a thing.

#

9: Apology

             "Roland says sorry."

           Sylvia pulled the thread up, and made another knot. "For what?"

           "For... for insulting you the other week."

           "Captain Roland insulted me many times the other week. Which particular insult is he apologizing for?"

           Marianne sighed, dropping her face into her arms on the table. "I am so sorry. It's just... I'm sorry."

           "You have nothing to apologize for, Your Highness. You're not the one making the insults, are you?"

           It was a rare afternoon that Sylvia got to spend time with just the Crown Princess. It wasn't for lack of trying. When she wasn't in meetings, or studying, or performing some public function, Marianne spent her free time with her intended, Roland. He was off on some border patrol right now, and Marianne followed Dawn down to the elf village to visit Sunny. The two of them were off pulling some prank, and Marianne called on Sylvia instead.

           "Did he apologize to you, by the way, for insulting your sword?"

           "What? He didn't--" Marianne frowned, then sighed. "He didn't insult my sword."

           "He said, and I quote, 'what a cute little thing,' which I think implies that he doesn't take your weapon seriously. Which, I might add, you haven't been practicing with lately. You know you're naturally clumsy, Your Highness, that's why you need practice." Sylvia stopped and sighed herself. "Now it's my turn to apologize. I shouldn't be lecturing you like this. You know it better yourself."

           "No! I mean, you're right, I should be practicing, it's just--Roland really doesn't like me swordfighting."  

           "But you love swordfighting!"

           "But I love him too! Isn't loving a person worth more than loving something like swordfighting?"

           "No," Sylvia said flatly, foremother memory gauging the situation and recognizing that this needed an intervention. "It's not worth it to stop doing something you love, many things you love in your case, just for a man." She ran a finger through her hair, trying to think of what she could say. "Especially when he's not giving up anything for you."

           "He's going to be my King. That's got to be worth something." Marianne was pensive. "He's giving up an easy life to be my King."

           "He's not exactly broken up about that," Sylvia replied dryly. "Marianne, I just... I dislike seeing you like this. You shouldn't have to apologize because the guy you love is screwing things up. You should be with someone who makes you feel proud."

           "I am proud!" Marianne frowned. "I'm so, so unbelievably proud. I mean, look at him! He's so perfect!" She allowed herself a dreamy smile. "I can't believe how lucky I am to be with him sometimes. Don't you... don't you ever feel that way about Nathaniel?"

           "Marianne, don't switch the subject." Sylvia put her sewing down. "You are the Crown Princess of the Bright Meadow. You are brilliant, visionary, and compassionate." She reached across the table to take Marianne's hands. "You wouldn't be the first woman in the world to be worn down by a man blinding you with his charm, but believe me when I say, he's lucky to have you, not the other way around. He will be elevated above his peers. What do you stand to get?"

           Marianne gave her an uncertain look. "Love?"

           Sylvia sighed. "I'm sorry. I just. I know you love him. It just burns me to see that he doesn't really support your ideas, and he's to be your king. And politically, that's a problem for me, because you know how hard it's been to even get the council to even consider trade with the Dark Forest. And personally, that's a problem for me, because Roland doesn't like goblins, and I'm not about to get some magic spell to make me something else." She decided to change tactics, and turn the topic to something that would pull Marianne out of her morose mood. "Speaking of Kings, I finally heard from the Bog King, and he's agreed to the border market."

           "He did?" Mariane's face completely lit up.

           That's more like it. Sylvia nodded. "As long as the Fairy Kingdom arranges it, that is. Remember, the last time it stopped was because the Fairy Kingdom refused to help put it up."

           "That's so great! I'll ask Sunny if we can get the elves to help, too."

           "They'll be more likely to benefit, so that would be nice."

           "Could we have a festival of it, maybe? Like a party? That would be so much fun!"

           They pored over a map, to determine the best spot for a market. Sylvia would have to write for permission for the exact spot, since it was supposed to spill over. Griselda could help spreading word about the market, too. Finally. Finally they were getting somewhere.

           King Dagda's reaction, as Sylvia expected, was rather lukewarm. He recognized the benefits of the border market, but seemed less than concerned about organizing it.

           "This will be Marianne's project, Ambassador. I trust you will help her with it?"

           She nodded. "Of course, Your Majesty."

           "And notify Captain Roland, since it's his responsibility to secure the border."

           "I beg your pardon?"

           "Tell Captain Roland," the King said again patiently, "because we'll want to make sure it's kept orderly."

           "Is Your Majesty implying... that the border market will have increased crime rates because of its proximity to the Dark Forest?" Sylvia asked, eyes narrowing.

           "That will be for Captain Roland to determine," King Dagda snapped. "It's his job as future King to judge what's best for the people!"

           Sylvia drew herself up. "It is also Princess Marianne's duty and judgement, and she is the one inheriting the throne. When did the Fairy Kingdom start ignoring birthright over marital ties?"

           "Do not presume your Living Memory trumps my decision, Madam Ambassador." King Dagda paused, and sighed wearily. "I... We apologize, Madam Ambassador. It has been a long day."

           "Of course." It was mid-afternoon.

           "And... I understand your... misgivings about Captain Roland. He is not as open to increased contact as my daughter is, I see that. But... he will be my son-in-law, and I have to support him."

           King Dagda was lost to her. She recognized that immediately, even without the insight of foremother memory.

           Nothing would stop her from celebrating this one small victory, though. Years after arriving in this weirdly stuffy kingdom, with its incomprehensible rules and systems, its distasteful caste system, its petty noble houses, and its bickering councils, something was finally happening.

           There would be dancing, Marianne declared. Dawn was thrilled, even moreso when Sunny made arrangements for a concert.

           For the first time in years, Sylvia met goblins again, and she wept.  

           "Sorry," she muttered later to Nathaniel as he spurred the dragonflies on. She knew she was saying it to his chest, since she was sitting on the leaf they were riding on, clinging to him, but she was so exhausted she couldn't stand anymore.

           "For what?" he asked, keeping his voice light.

           "Being a sobbing mess out of everything tonight. Taking up so much space on this leaf. Introducing you to goblin beer." She thought a moment. "Actually, not the last one. Your face was the best face."

           He laughed. "You've nothing to be sorry for. You were so happy tonight. It's the happiest I've ever seen you, I think."

           "What, am I usually a sad person?"

           He nodded, staring straight ahead. "I don't know if you've noticed, but sometimes it looks like your Living Memory is weighing you down. If not, then your exile. Tonight was the first time I've ever seen you look like you had nothing on your shoulders."

           "You must not be paying attention to me when I'm knitting."

           "You know what I mean."

           "Well, sorry anyway."

           "For what, now?"

           "I'm so tired I can hardly think straight. I might eat you when I get home."

           He stroked her hair. "That's all right."

           When they arrived at her house, she stumbled through her door while he let the dragonflies go. She was still fumbling her way--stupid furniture!--when she felt him grab her under her arms and carry her to her bedroom. They fell into her web with a soft oopf.

           "Have I thanked you for your service, Councilor Nathaniel?"

           "You may have."

           "I shall do it properly tomorrow. Good night, Councilor."

           "Good night, Madam Ambassador."

#

10: Aftermath

             Ambassador Sylvia was dressed in red at the wedding of Crown Princess Marianne to Captain Roland of the border guard. She wore it out of spite, because spider widows wore red to signal that they had eaten a husband. (This had not been the case in three centuries, but she liked the detail.)

           She stared straight ahead, because at one point Councilor Nathaniel had whispered to her that she was glaring at the groom in such a hostile manner it might be misconstrued. They were standing in a small cluster of people who decidedly also did not like Captain Roland, and had vocalized their disapproval for the gadfly guard more than once in public. Their criticisms were varied: he was an upstart; he was from a minor house; he was frivolous; he was a bad influence on the princess; he would be a disaster of a king.

           Sylvia agreed with the last reason, although her main reason was more personal. Through careful inquiries and through watching Captain Roland's behaviour around Marianne when she and Nathaniel were present, she was thoroughly convinced that Roland was purposefully steering Marianne away from anyone who would talk some sense into her.

           She had attempted to spend the last winter in the Fairy Huddle to try to stop this disaster of a wedding from moving forward. It did not go well, since everytime she had tried to approach Marianne, she would be stymied by Roland's warbling. She overheard him bragging about becoming King by snaring the Crown Princess and it took everything to not stomp him into the ground. Nathaniel spread his own careful whispers--such a subtle man--which almost got Roland into trouble with the King, but the satisfaction didn't last long.

           It was especially hard to watch the couple interact. Watching him downplay her achievements unless it made him look good, watching him pay her backhanded compliments that reflected back onto him, listening to him declare public affection for her. And Marianne, so young, so dazzled by it all.

           And here they were. She was going to watch, as so many foremothers had, a young woman give herself to an unworthy man.

           Nathaniel had an arm around her waist, at her request because she didn't think she could stop herself from killing Roland if she had to go. But she was here nonetheless, because she wanted to support Marianne's decision--this was Marianne's decision, and she had to respect that. Foremother memory told her that trying to steer her away from it would only destroy any rapport she had built with the princess, and if this marriage had to happen, she needed all of it.

           A kiss on her ear distracted her. She frowned up at Nathaniel. "What was that for?" she hissed.

           "You looked like you could use a distraction."

           She took a deep breath. "I suppose I do at that."

           The wait seemed to take forever. The crowds started whispering.

           "Is she all right?"

           "Where is she?"

           "What could be taking so long?"

           Sylvia wondered if she should be feeling relief. Instead, something cold in her heart growled.

           Dawn flew in then, overhead the crowd and straight to her royal father, standing at the altar with Roland. She glanced around nervously and whispered something.

           "What?" King Dagda's soft gasp echoed throughout the hall.

           "Just what I said, Daddy."

           "But that's ridiculous! You can't just... cancel a wedding, on the day of!" At the collective gasp that went up in the room, he looked around, and went back to an angry whisper.

           "No!" Dawn's whisper was insistent enough to be heard. "She said the wedding's off! I don't know why!"

           King Dagda turned to Roland, as if the groom could give an accounting of his bride's sudden behaviour.

           Roland gulped, and gave his best reassuring smile. "Your Majesty, I'm sure it was a misunderstanding. Pre-wedding jitters."

           "A misunderstanding that would lead to a cancelled wedding?" Dagda, at least, sounded suitably skeptical.

           A series of images flashed through her face, then. "He has done something," Sylvia growled under her breath.

           Nathaniel gave her a sharp look, and several members in their coterie also turned.

           "Look at that face. The face of the guilty. He has done something to hurt her." She knew she wasn't being very loud, not loud enough to be heard at the front, but also that she shouldn't be saying anything.

           Unfortunately, a nearby councilor who did not share her sentiments overheard, and turned to frown at whoever was saying that. "Don't be ridiculous. Princess Marianne has always been flighty--"

           "You shut up. How dare you insult a princess of the realm." Sylvia took a step forward and felt Nathaniel's arm tighten around her waist, restraining her. The councilor had recognized the source of the voice, and was quickly paling. "How dare you insult your own princess, who is to be your sovereign. Have some respect."

           "Patience, Madam Ambassador," Councilor John murmured. "It's not like you have any proof."

           "I am Living Memory, Councilor. I know the face of guilt. I have seen it many, many times before, with enough hindsight to recognize it when it is right in front of me."

           The whispers were already roaring into an upset hubbub. King Dagda raised his arms for quiet, to little avail. "Princess Marianne is unwell. We will postpone this wedding to a later date. Thank you for coming."

           "Your Majesty, there's no need to cancel!" Roland tried to salvage the occasion. "Maybe I should just go talk to her? I'm sure it's just a minor thing! You know how Marianne gets." He turned to Dawn.

           King Dagda also turned to Dawn.

           Dawn was squinting at Roland with extreme prejudice. "She was crying really hard and doesn't want to see anyone." She didn't even bother whispering her reply.

           "I'll talk to her--"

           "She doesn't want to see anyone."

           Sylvia took a step towards the altar, but Nathaniel gripped her waist harder. "Are you going to make a scene?"

           "You heard Dawn. He made her cry. He hurt her."

           "And we all bleed with her. But are you going to make a scene, and will it help?"

           She stopped short. She did want to make a scene. It would be utterly satisfying. She ran through the possible scenarios in her head. Yell at Roland publicly, and incur King Dagda's wrath, with possible punishment. Marianne would still be hurt. Don't tell at Roland now, stew in silence, and maybe destroy something afterwards. Marianne would still be hurt.

           She settled for fuming quietly at Nathaniel. "I hate it when you're smarter than me, you know that?"

           "I'm sure you do," he said soothingly, carefully ushering her out. "Let's go get some tea and celebrate this cancellation, shall we?"

           The wedding day was a holiday for the kingdom, and it was abuzz with news of the cancelled nuptials. Nathaniel's house was closer to the castle, and by the time they got there, there was a small gathering of gossips in the parlour.

           "Sylvia!" Donna almost shrieked as soon as she sighted the couple. She practically ran over to them to drag them over. "Nathaniel! Did you know? What happened? Surely you must know, Sylvia, you were all but accusing Captain Roland in the hall!" She practically pushed Sylvia down to sit next in the most available space between the ladies' chairs.

           Sylvia shrugged. "I have no proof, as was pointed out to me earlier."

           "But you have an inkling? Do tell! What does your Living Memory suspect?" Donna shoved a cup of tea into her hands.

           She sighed, feeling theatrical. Donna and her friends weren't her favourite people, and she suspected they talked about her behind her back. But they could be useful here... "Well, she probably found some proof he didn't love her. Could have been anything, really. Found some love letters, or saw another woman's things among his, or something equally dramatic."

           This caused an outburst. "But he was always so affectionate!" "Couldn't stop singing about his love for her!" "They looked so happy together!"

           "Ladies, you and I are old enough to know that sometimes lovers are not true to you, no matter how it looks." Sylvia took a sip of tea before she continued. "Besides, I thought this one was obvious, anyway. Surely you heard him bragging about becoming King? Why does a man in love need to do that?"

           "Well, I never! What bad taste!" And the group descended into outrage.

           "And he never supported her," Nathaniel added mournfully, placing a supporting hand on Sylvia's shoulder. "What kind of King doesn't support his Queen? Especially a King marrying into the throne? Always seemed to me he had his own agenda."

           "You never trusted him, Nathaniel! Especially with your pro-goblin politics!"

           A crowd of gasps, and the whole group turned to Sylvia, wide-eyed.

           "Considering Princess Marianne's desires for diplomatic relations with the Dark Forest, a marriage to Captain Roland would have totally undermined her," Nathaniel said, sounding offended.

           No one looked like they heard him, though. Sylvia didn't move, just looked around the room, wondering if she was supposed to do something in the sudden silence that descended. Were there such awkward moments in memory? She couldn't think of anyway.

           "Uhm. I, uh, like Councilor Nathaniel's pro-goblin politics." As if to make her point, she patted his hand on her shoulder.

           Nathaniel took her hand. "Donna, we'd love to stay and chat, but we came to pick up a few things and were going to call on some of the other councilors to discuss some matters. Hope you don't mind."

           There was a rhubarb growing behind them as they left the room, but one question made them quicken their pace.

           "Have they set a wedding date?"

           A few more calls, a few well-placed words here and there with people sympathetic to the princess, respectful of Nathaniel's standing and well-aware of Sylvia's status--not just as a Living Memory, but also as occasional confidant of the princesses--and they ended their day at Sylvia's house, feeling pleased with their work.

           They avoided talk about a wedding date and spent a marvelous night sleeping soundly. Sylvia had been convinced that two-legged creatures wouldn't be able to get in and out of her hammock web easily, but Nathaniel rolled in and out of it with ease, and he was warm and soft. He was also very vocally appreciative of it, favourably comparing it to the flower beds of the fairies regularly. Their sleeping arrangements were made all the more pleasant with the realization that neither of them were morning people.

           So the knock on Sylvia's door at dawn was an unwelcome thing. For several moments, neither moved, though they were awake and knew it.

           When the knocking got more insistent, Sylvia sighed and pushed herself up. "I'll get it."

           "No, you're naked, I'll get it, who knows who's at the door."

           "You're also naked."

           "I have a robe." He used his wings to push himself off, which also had the effect of pushing her back down.

           Sylvia considered the wisdom of letting him open the door when the whole neighbourhood knew whose house it was. While they didn't advertise their relationship, and they were not necessarily secretive, but it wasn't common knowledge that Nathaniel regularly slept over either.

           "Councilor Nathaniel!" greeted a very unexpected voice. "I, uh, good morning!"

           "Uhm. Your... Highness?"

           Sylvia sat up with an oath. "Marianne?" She stumbled out of the bedroom and knocked over several pieces of furniture to get to the front door. "Marianne!"

           The Crown Princess stood there wearing a white dress tattered at her knees. Her black boots were scuffed, and her hands gripped a training sword. "Uhm. Hi."

           Her eyes... Sylvia was alarmed at the blue-black surrounding them. "Did someone hit you?" she exclaimed. "On both eyes?"

           "What? No! No, I did this. It's... it's just berry juice. I was trying something new."

           Both Sylvia and Nathaniel sighed in unison. "But what are you doing here? It's... so early! Don't tell me you want to train right now?"

           Marianne bowed her head. "Uh. Not now, I was going to wait until Councilor Nathaniel got here, because I didn't realize that he was here."

           "Is this a girl talk thing? Should I go?" Nathaniel asked.

           Sylvia plucked at the sleeve of his robe. "Yes. Get back to bed or get dressed and leave us be. Come in, Your Highness, I'll put on some tea."

#

11: Outpouring

             "You were right," Marianne said into her cup. "About Roland. About everything. I should have listened to you."

           Sylvia made a sympathetic sound. "You were in love. It happens. You can't blame yourself for what he did wrong."

           "But I should have seen it coming," the princess insisted. "And I... I knew. I knew something was wrong but I was just... so happy. He was like the sun, and I just... I got burned."

           It was still too early in the morning, so Sylvia let sympathetic silence settle in.

           Marianne burst into tears. Large tears ran down her face as her small body shook with such violence Sylvia stood up in alarm. Quickly, the goblin ran around the table to put an arm around the fairy princess. "It wasn't your fault, Marianne. It was never your fault. He chose to do whatever it is he did. He hurt you. You were in love. That's not a bad thing."

           "If it wasn't bad," Marianne yelled, her voice piercing in its pain, "then why does it hurt so much?"

           "Because... it was real for you."

           "Why wasn't it real for him? Why wasn't I enough for him? What's wrong with me?" The wails were louder now, full of anguish.

           "There's nothing wrong with you."

           "There must have been! Why didn't he love me if there wasn't something wrong with me? Why did I fall in love with someone like him?"

           "Because you, Your Highness, have an open and warm heart, which he chose to take advantage of. It has nothing to do with your wrongness."

           "Of course it does," Marianne retorted, even through her tears. "I know what they say about me, Sylvia. I'm not a good princess. I'm too loud, too rough, too demanding. I'm not soft enough, I'm not sweet, I'm not gentle, I'm nothing a fairy princess should be. And I thought... I thought I found someone who thought I was."

           "You found someone who pretended you were the fairy princess that you are not, Your Highness," Sylvia said softly. "Not someone who saw you for the fairy princess you are."

           An oath from the back of the house distracted them. Something rolled on the floor of the kitchen and someone picked it up and fiddled with it.

           "Nathaniel, aren't you supposed to be at a meeting?" Sylvia called.

           "Running late. I'll take the backdoor out. You ladies carry on."

           "There's a council meeting today? Why wasn't I told?" Marianne sat up.

           "Because you were supposed to be on your honeymoon today," Sylvia said dryly.

           "Guess that's not happening." Marianne fiercely wiped her face dry wth the back of her hands. She took a deep breath. "I'm going to it."

           "Are you sure? Shouldn't you take a break?"

           "No." Marianne frowned. "I'm going to be the fairy princess I should have been. I've wasted so much time already. Councilor Nathaniel!"

           "Your Highness?" Nathaniel stuck his head into the dining room from the kitchen.

           "Kindly escort me to the legislative council meeting."

           Nathaniel threw a slightly-panicked look at Sylvia, who nodded seriously. "Uh. Okay. I mean! Of course, Your Highness."

           Crown Princess Marianne threw herself into her work with a ferocity that made people nervous. Her supporters were pleased to see her new no-holds-barred approach, and if she got more unpopular with the elder councilmen, it didn't seem to matter, because she went toe-to-toe with them to push her new initiatives through. She hid her hurt under a mask of efficiency and wore off her angry energy through training.

           When King Dagda summoned Sylvia, she had hoped it would be about finally opening talks with the Dark Forest. Unfortunately, she had probably hoped for too much.

           "What has happened to my daughter?" he demanded as soon as the servants left them alone. "What made her into this?"

           Sylvia stared at him, astonished. "I... why would I know that?"

           "I know she went to see you after the day of the wedding. I need to know." His face was the pleading one of a broken father, desperately wanting to understand. "What could have done this to my little girl?"

           "A broken heart."

           "But that was a misunderstanding!" King Dagda burst out. "If she would just listen to Roland, let him talk to her--"

           "That would not be wise," Sylvia cut him off. "When Captain Roland is likely the source of the hurt."

           "But what did he do?" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I know you had no love for Roland. But you didn't have to poison my daughter against the man she loved to get what you wanted!"

           Sylvia blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

           "What did you do? Why is she like this now?"

           "I have done nothing. As for why she is like this now, perhaps you should be asking her."

           "She won't tell me what happened! She won't tell me what's wrong!" He sighed. "I have never been that close to her, but... I am still her father. I don't understand why she won't talk to me." He glared at her. "But she speaks to you. So I can only surmise that you know."

           "Ah." Sylvia sighed. "Actually, I don't know. She never told me."

           "Never told you..."

           "No. I never asked. If she wanted to tell, she would have said something. I only have my suspicions, but beyond that, the mind of Her Highness is beyond my ken."

           "Then tell me... with your Living Memory, what you can know of my daughter's hurt. Tell me how I can restore her to what she was."

           "You can't," she said bluntly. "She had her heart broken, and you can't make a heart un-broken again. That's not how it works. You give her time and space to heal, let her find her own way."

           "I am asking you for help!"

           "I am giving it to you."

           "Is this how you served the Bog King? With inactionable advice and evasion?"

           Sylvia rose to her full height, towering over the fairy man in his chair. He shrank back from her.

           "Guards!" he cried.

           She started walking to the door. "I'll see myself out," she said curtly.

           She swept out the room in high dudgeon, stewing her way down the corridors of the wretched castle with its high ceilings and narrow hallways specifically designed for fliers.

           "Sylvia!"

           She stopped short at Nathaniel's voice. "Councilor," she bit out as he approached, his face full of concern.

           He took her hands in his. "What happened? I was told that you were in an audience with the King."

           She winced. "It didn't go well. I walked out on him."

           "You what?"

           "He wanted me to tell him what happened to Her Highness and didn't like what I had to say."

           "Councilor Nathaniel!" a page flew to them. "His Majesty demands to see you. Now."

           "Me...?"

           They exchanged glances.

           "Now, Councilor."

           "What about?"

           "He didn't say."

           "I'm going home," Sylvia said softly. "I'll see you later."

           Later did not happen. Ambassador Sylvia was under house arrest for conspiring against the Crown. People could come to see her, but were discouraged from doing so under threat of being accused of the same. No one could tell her what happened to Councilor Nathaniel. She was left to wring her hands as she paced her ceiling.

           A shy knock from the back of the house caught her attention. She thought it was the back door, but it was the small delivery door instead in the corner of the kitchen. Made specifically for the elves who couldn't reach the door knobs of her main doors, it wasn't always locked, but she hadn't been expecting anything.

           She opened it. "Master Sunny! What are you doing here? The perimeter is guarded!"

           "Here to deliver some food and goods!" Sunny said with bright cheer. He held bags in his arms. "Princess Marianne insisted I come check and make sure you're okay. She would have come herself, but she couldn't get away from her schedule."

           "Have you heard from Nathaniel?"

           "Apparently also under house arrest." Sunny looked around, and then whispered, "Dawn says she spied on his meeting with her Dad. Said he wouldn't agree to testify against you."

           "So there is to be a trial, then?"

           "Don't know. Might not come to that. Marianne is arguing against it."

           Sylvia shook her head. "There's only so much she can do."

           "Keep your spirits up, Madam Sylvia! Like I always say, don't worry about a thing!"

           She patted his head. "You're sweet. Best be on your way now."

           There were letters. She sorted them into separate piles: official business from people who hadn't yet realized anything was wrong; letters of accusation, often unsigned; letters of support, sometimes also unsigned; personal correspondence with no political content whatsoever.

           A fortnight passed with few visitors, no real news, until the sound of dragonflies buzzing over attracted her attention. There were too many for a company call, and elves didn't tend to travel in packs like that. She ran to a window to see a small army in the sky.

           Ugh, no, an international incident. Where were they going? The palace? Ugh, of course... not like the goblins knew where she lived. And was that...? Her heart sank at the figure in the center of the formation.

           She banged on her front door. "Send for Princess Marianne immediately!" she yelled. "The Bog King approaches!"

           She saw him several hours later, after she was humiliatingly dragged to the castle by two fairy soldiers who picked her up by the upper arms and flew her overhead without a care for her person. As she was shoved into the throne room, she saw King Dagda, and the tall dark person of her cousin.

           "What is the meaning of this?" Bog growled, and she wasn't sure at who.

           She wrenched her arms free of the fairy soldiers' grips.

           To his credit, the Bog King swung to King Dagda, fury in his face.

           "Bog King," King Dagda began, "she is a prisoner of the Fairy Kingdom--"

           "I know what you've told me. And I have told you, the Dark Forest is responsible for its own." Bog stamped his way to her, leveling a glare at the soldiers. They backed off. "Are you all right?" he asked.

           "No," she snapped, because she had expected a better reunion than this. "No, I am not all right." She could feel her voice going higher, and she didn't care. "Five years. Five years I've been in this miserable field working myself to the bone to cultivate trade relations, being met with resistance at every juncture. Five years of insults, gossip, criticism from every corner, and complete silence from my king and only family, five years! Five years, and now I'm under house arrest, accused of a crime on the basis of rumours, against a sovereign to whom I have done my utmost to appease, I have no news about the man I love, and my own king and cousin is asking me if I'm all right! No! No, I am not all right!" She was full-on yelling straight into the Bog King's face, raising herself to her full height so she could go nose-to-nose with him, and practically spitting at him as she stabbed a finger at his chest. "You banished me! For a thing I did not do, may I add! And I am now under house arrest! Also for a thing I did not do! How dare you treat a widow of foremother memory this year!" She swung to King Dagda. "And you! How dare you disrespect Living Memory like this! I have done nothing against the Crown, and maybe you should be a better father to your child rather than throwing accusations at foreign dignitaries!"

           Princess Marianne and Princess Dawn chose that moment to barge into the throne room. "Dad!" "What's going on!"

           Dawn gasped. "Madam Sylvia! Are you all right?"

           Marianne, however, stomped her way to her father, hands on her hips. "What in all the fields is this!"

           "The Bog King is here to retrieve the ambassador," King Dagda said evasively.

           "What?" Marianne spun around, finally noticing the dark monarch in the room. "But--Sylvia didn't do anything wrong!"

           "I'll be taking her home regardless," Bog rumbled. "Given the hostile environment."

           Marianne paused. "You're the Bog King, aren't you? Sylvia has done great work in the time she's been here! She can't leave now!" She swung around to her father. "Especially not on conspiracy charges! She's done nothing!"  

           "I have it on good authority that Sylvia has been undermining crown authority among the ranks of the noble houses," King Dagda said, face reddening. "She's dangerous, and I won't have a goblin bring down this kingdom."

           The Bog King snarled as he took a step forward. "Are you accusing my cousin of being a liar?"

           "Whose authority?" Marianne demanded.

           King Dagda seemed to shift uncomfortable under Marianne's gaze. "Darling, it's for your own good."

           "Who?" Marianne's voice was hard, grating, dark.

           "Captain Roland has uncovered a conspiracy among the councilors. He is rounding up guilty parties as we speak."

           "Captain Roland," Marianne said in a low voice, practically a growl that mimicked the Bog King's, "is a liar. You can't trust him."

           "What am I to think, Marianne?" King Dagda asked, pained. "This goblin comes to our kingdom, and suddenly you're being difficult and you change and you end your engagement without reason. How can I believe that she hasn't done anything?"

           "I had a reason!" she yelled. "You didn't need to bring anybody else into this! You didn't need to arrest anybody! If there was a conspiracy, that would be Roland's fault!" She drew back a little, hands at her mouth trembling and tears at her eyes. Then she visibly steeled herself. "He never loved me. He was just using me."

           King Dagda sat forward on this throne. "Marianne...?"

           "If you send Sylvia away now, because of something Roland said... I'll leave too."

           "Marianne!" Dawn gasped, flitting to her sister's side.

           "I don't understand," King Dagda gasped.

           "You said it yourself. I'm difficult. I'm different. I'm unique." Marianne put her hands on her hips. "I'm not the perfect fairy princess you want me to be, and you'll round up my friends and supporters on the say-so of the cheating, chattering, power-hungry, pig-headed son of a--"

           "Is this family drama usual here?" Bog asked Sylvia.

           "You're one to talk," Sylvia snarled at him. "Is this the case then?" she asked King Dagda sharply. "You're allowing a soldier to arrest whoever he thinks is a conspirator... because you trust him over your own flesh and blood?"

           "No! I am trying to protect my family!"

           "How is it protecting us when you won't even listen to us, Daddy?" Dawn pointed out. "We've been trying to tell you that Sylvia's innocent for days now."

           "EVERYBODY BE QUIET!"

           Everyone gaped in the wake of the Bog King's roar.

           "I don't know what is going on here. But your house is not in order, King Dagda," Bog rumbled. He turned to the princesses. "It would seem that you have a crisis of authority on your hands. I remember when my own father went mad, as kings must eventually do. That is when the heir must step up, to prove themselves worthy of the throne and unwilling to be pushed around."

           "That's not how it's done here, but your, ah, solidarity is appreciated," Marianne said wryly. She straightened. "You're right, though. There is clearly a cadre of conspirators trying to undermine my authority before I even take the throne, and it's time for me to deal with it. Dad?"

           "Yes, dear?" Dagda asked, sounding weaker than before.

           "Do you trust me? Your own heir? To make decisions that best benefit the kingdom?"

           King Dagda hesitated, clearly dreading her next actions. "Yes," he finally said. "I do."

           "Then I call for Captain Roland to immediately stop his search for so-called conspirators. I order that all current conspirators under arrest be released."

           "Oh thank goodness," Sylvia sighed, rolling her eyes.

           In short order, Crown Princess Marianne took over, not quite named Regent but close enough, with King Dagda pleading illness. Ambassador Sylvia was released. The Bog King agreed to stand down and take his army back to the Dark Forest. Together they were escorted back to Sylvia's house, and the goblin army buzzed around them, resting on the field by the brook.

           "We have to return home, and in case civil war breaks out, I don't want you here," Bog told her as soon as they were inside.

           Sylvia paused for a moment, then went back to boiling water for tea.

           "I know this isn't the best time to recall you... you clearly have affection for the two princesses, but after all that happened, I don't feel safe with you staying."

           "You felt perfectly safe with me being here before, back when I was practically the only goblin the entire Fairy Court had encountered in a hundred years."

           Bog cricked his neck. She hoped guilt was giving him a neckache. "I know. But things change."

           "That, they do, because some of us fight for it."

           "And I see the results. You've done fine work. Consider your return your reward."

           Sylvia smashed a cup on the floor. She swung to Bog, eyes narrowed as she prowled towards him. "Is that it? Five years, and I just--pick up my life and go home with you as if nothing happened? How dare you. How dare you! Damn you, where have you been?"

           "Are you done?"

           "No." And she slapped him.

           He staggered back from the force, and touched the corner of his mouth. "I should--"

           "What, punish me? You did that, for five years! You sent me away from home! And I have done just fine without you. Where will you exile me to next, Bog King?"

           To his credit, his eyes softened. He sighed deeply, and took her trembling hands in his. "I did wrong, cousin, and I am sorry. I ignored your counsel, and rather than face up to what you had to say, I sent you away so I wouldn't have to listen. I sent you to a place I knew to be hostile to our kind for a task I myself deemed impossible. I had no excuse, and perhaps there'll be nothing to earn your forgiveness, but know that I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."

           "Free the Sugar Plum Fairy."

           "Of course."

           "Permit trade delegations and royal visitations."

           "Most assuredly."

           "Open the borders."

           "Well, we have to negotiate that, what with deciding--" He stopped when he saw her glaring at him. "Certainly."

           "Overturn your ban on love. Let me have mine."

           He opened his mouth, or maybe he dropped his jaw, she didn't know and didn't care. "Shouldn't that depend on my meeting him?"

           "I'm not asking for your permission," she told him sourly.  

           He still grimaced.

           "Just because you've sworn off love, Bog King, doesn't mean the rest of the world has. Life moves on. I don't actually need your blessing, just as you don't need my forgiveness. Suck on that, if you will."

           A loud growling chorus outside drew their attention. Sylvia looked out the window to find the goblins surrounding the house snarling at the sky. She went outside, to see a fairy hovering above, taking in the scene. He didn't look too perturbed, more like scanning the area for something. She would recognize those mottled brown and grey wings anywhere.

           As soon as he saw her, he flew down, alighting in her arms, gathering her in his. He rubbed his thumb between her shoulder blades, breathing in the scent of her hair, and she nuzzled the crook of his neck. For a moment, everything else faded away in a rush of relief.

           "You're all right," she whispered. "What happened?"

           "House arrest. Just like you. I'm fine. I suppose they released you as soon as they saw the goblin army approaching."

           She huffed. "Not before my cousin got into a shouting match with the king. Princess Marianne is in charge now."

           "Yes. It's going to be a few... very exciting days, if not weeks."

           "I shall be sad to miss it."

           He drew away from her. "What?"

           "I have been recalled." Her voice was soft, and her fingers idly played with his collar.

           He touched his forehead to hers. "You've been wanting it for a long time."

           "Not like this though. What will I do without you?"

           "You will carry on, as you always have."

           She ran her hands over his face, memorizing its feel under her fingertips, on her palm, his breath on her skin.

           "Surely foremother memory has given you that fortitude."

           "Foremother memory doesn't define who I am or what I feel. I'm not my foremothers. This... this pain will be mine, because every such pain is unique, never felt before."

           He captured her hand as it ran down his cheek, kissing it and keeping it there. "I will come visit as soon as I can, then."

           "Even if you might get eaten?"

           He shrugged. "You've tried before, and I like to think I survived that." He smiled. "Otherwise the last four years have been a good dream. It is not so hard an afterlife, falling in love with you."

           "Such a flirt, Councilor," she retorted, but there was no bite.

           "Madam Ambassador, you are the one with irresistable charms."

           The Bog King snorted, and Sylvia turned to see him leaning on the doorjamb, arms and ankles crossed. He gestured to Nathaniel with his chin. "Is that the one?"

           She stuck her tongue out at him. "Mind your business, cousin." And she went back to holding Nathaniel close, until it was untenable to ignore the crowd of curious goblins around them, and a joining crowd of equally curious elves in the further distance.

           Fall passed. Sylvia spent a lot of it visiting friends and family. Many of her kind were solitary creatures in pockets of the Dark Forest, so not seeing each other for long periods of time was normal, but they had all heard of the unusual circumstances of her exile, and were unbearably curious as a result.

           Winter came and went. Sylvia spent a lot of it brooding.

           As soon as spring arrived, warm enough to leave the castle and her coccoons, she took to the highest tree and wove a web to sit in and wait for a pair of brown-grey wings.

           He found her as though he caught her scent through the forest, grasping her tightly in his arms and swinging her around mid-air as she laughed, and then they breathlessly fell into her web, making wordless promises to each other.

*

12: A Wedding Party

           It was a rapidly-changing fairy government that Sylvia returned to, not as ambassador, but as part of a royal visit. The fairy princesses had visited her a fair number of times over the year, and Sylvia had to keep Griselda busy to keep the queen mother out of the negotiation room where Princess Marianne and the Bog King conferred at length over terms and provisions.

           It would not do for them to be intruded upon. Although once in a while Dawn would whisper that yes, the two had gone out to stretch their wings, and it was safe to not distract Griselda anymore. Sylvia pressed a finger to her lips if anyone seemed to want to comment on how the Bog King gazed overlong at Crown Princess Marianne, or remark on the smile that played at Crown Princess Marianne's lips sometimes as the Bog King made conversation that might have been utterly boring otherwise.

           Her house in the Fairy Kingdom was kept neat and tidy by Nathaniel in her absence. They announced their engagement at a quiet dinner held at her house, which pleased everyone in attendance (and upset some others because they had not been in attendance for the momentous occasion). The wedding itself they held at the border market on a calm midsummer evening.

           They dispensed with the usual officiant and elder, calmly reciting promises to each other in front of an audience. But the Bog King surprised them when he approached, tokens in his hands.

           "I bring you blessings," he said softly, only for them to hear. "I bring you the benediction of the Northern Spiders, and I bring you the benediction of the Southern Scorpions. I bring you the benediction of the Swarm." He let each token fall at their feet as he recited the names of the clans and goblin families that delivered their private blessings through the King. "And I gift you my blessing, blood kin, recognition of the royal line, and promises of loyalty to yours."

           She hadn't quite forgiven him just yet, but she gave him a small nod in acknowledgement, and leaned forward a little for the kiss he laid on her forehead.

           Their first dance was with each other. Bog claimed the second dance with Sylvia, to the oohs-and-aahs of several goblins. Dawn took to the floor with her best friend, Sunny.

           "Who would have thought that the almighty Bog King could dance so well?" Marianne laughed at the edge of the dance floor to Nathaniel.

           "Surely Your Highness must realized by now not to underestimate him." Nathaniel grinned. "May I have the honour? Since my bride seems to be occupied at the moment."

           Marianne gladly took his hand, and they chatted about a council motion as they swirled about the dance floor, until they almost bumped into Sylvia and Bog.

           "I'd like to dance with my new husband again," Sylvia declared loudly as soon as she was within earshot of Nathaniel. "Swap partners?"

           Griselda cackled--loudly--and almost ruined the moment as the Bog King shyly took Princess Marianne's hands. The nervous tension in his body bled out within a few moments, though, as they kept on dancing and conversing as if they did such a thing every day. If they seemed to dance much closer than was perhaps appropriate, no one said a thing.

           "Think they'll have a happy ending, too?" Nathaniel asked softly.

           Sylvia kissed his clever mouth. "Oh, love, there are no happy endings, just happy transformations."

[rainbowsxxdiamondsxxsparklesxx]

"Pacify her" one shot yonderland fanfic

Once again Debbie was in yonderland and it was in chaos due to her twin sister Imperatrixs evilness. But Debbie knew all to well that Imperatrix didnt act alone, she had a companion named Negatus who did her dirty work for her while she watched over him. Just then there was a loud bang and Debbie and Elf made themself scarce behind a tree. "Whats happening Elf?" Debbie whispered and Elf pointed at a dark portal and out walked Negatus followed by Imperatrix. "Negatus, You will bring the elders to my domain. Its about time they recognised the powers i possess and dont fail me this time otherwise, you know what will happen" Imperatrix said menacingly before retreating back into the portal. Negatus looked worn out and for some reason, Debbies heart went out to him, she wondered what it would be like if Negatus broke away from Imperatrixs control. Tired, blue boy walks my way Holding a girls hand That basic bitch leaves finally Now I can take her man Someone told me stay away from things that arent yours but was he yours if he wanted me so bad? "Debbie what are you thinking?" Elf asked, wondering why Debbie was looking at Negatus. "I think thats a sweet man inside Negatus. He needs to get away from Imperatrix." Debbie said and she started walking towards him. Pacify her Shes getting on my nerves You dont love her Stop lying with those words Pacify her Shes getting on my nerves You dont love her Stop lying with those words "Negatus!" Debbie called out and Negatus turned around triumphantly as his minions yelled, "Its the chosen one master!" "Yes i can see that! Debbie of Maddox, you are mine at last. Finally Imperatrix wil be pleased!" He cried out. Debbie held out her arms, "Wait Negatus. I just wanna talk to you. I have to ask you something. Are you happy working for Imperatrix?" Debbie asked sympathetically. Negatus was stunned. Normally he never dared say how he truly felt in fear of execution but Imperatrix wasnt around. "Course Im not! She drives me mad! All these demands she gives me!" Negatus cried as he sat on the ground. I cant stand her whining Wheres her binky now? And loving her seems tiring So boy just love me down down down Someone told me stay away from things that arent yours but was he yours if he wanted me so bad? "Imperatrix is dangerous, shes doing all she can to try and take over the realm and yet she will not share it with me. I feel she is using me." Negatus said and Debbie was shocked by his honesty. It was almost as if the real Negatus was emerging. "You cant let her bully you. Pacify her if you have too." Debbie said soothingly and she patted him on the shoulder. Pacify her Shes getting on my nerves You dont love her stop lying with those words Pacify her shes getting on my nerves you dont love her stop lying with those words Meanwhile back at Imperatrixs lair, Igor was keen to speak to Imperatrix who was reading the second scroll that Negatus had gotten for her and she smiled, this prophecy would make her the supreme ruler of yonderland. "Oh mighty imperatrix, i have news regarding Negatus and this is something to get your teeth into. I mean inform you." Igor said. "Do tell." She said continuing to read the scroll. "It appears hes making friends with the chosen one and hes planning to desert you." Imperatrix stood up. "This cannot be! He cant join sides with my sister I wont allow it!" She shouted and she summoned the portal once more. Pacify her Shes getting on my nerves You dont love her Stop lying with those words Negatus felt much better for talking to Ddbbie as did his minons now he had to tell Imperatrix he was joining forces with Debbie and abandoning evil for good. Debbie and elf smiled as Negatus went to throw of his helmet but then..... Pacify her Shes getting on my nerves You dont love her stop lying with those words Pacify her shes getting on my nerves you dont love her Stop lying with those words Imperatrix stood in front of Negatus and she was holding the secind scroll in her hand and Negatus grinned, forgeting about his earlier promise and he followed her back into the portal. "Well it worth a try i suppose." Elf mumbled and he and Debbie headed off to see the elders. The end

[forkanna]

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NOTE: So I'm really broke, and anything you could donate to ko-fi would be appreciated! Also I'm thinking about doing the Patreon thing, though I seriously think my inexperience is going to show through glaringly. I guess we'll see!

CHAPTER 10

                                           ~ x JUDGMENT x ~

"This is serious, isn't it?"

Makoto remained silent. For a long time. And Sae waited for her little sister to speak up. She was feeling a lot of things herself that were nearly as strong as those of her flesh and blood. The temptation to round the table and try to comfort her in some way was almost too strong to resist.

"Yes."

"Then how do you identify?"

"I'm… uncomfortable with a label just yet," she admitted in a fragile whisper.

"Very well." Her tone came out as a harsh rasp, and she cleared her throat to hopefully get rid of that. "We can come back to that another time. So you had spoken to your friends, asked for their input."

"Wouldn't you do the same? Didn't you, a long time ago?"

Frowning, she looked away. "I did. You remember how difficult my journey was."

"Of course I do," Makoto told her as she leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table as her eyes stared straight into Sae's when she looked back. And they held each other's gaze for a minute. "I remember every step you took. Well, the ones here. If you hadn't been gone, I would have helped more, but it didn't feel like it was my right to… insist."

"Really? So you wanted to come with me to Thailand? Help me with dilating, hormone therapy, plastic surgery after plastic surgery? Bloody, messy, disgusting help?"

True pain flickered across the younger girl's features. "You're my sister. I would have done anything you needed and it would have been my pleasure."

That left Sae breathless. Her own emotions were rising to the surface, despite how deep she tried to bury them on a regular basis. Of course she knew Makoto had been supportive, but she had never given a strong outward display of it. Perhaps that was because… she never asked. From the very beginning, she had been so firm and sure of her path that she never dared disturb her little sister's education with trivial matters like her own transition. The physical agony, and the many and varied troubles associated with that and with the social problems. They were her burden to bear alone.

And all along, this girl had been waiting to share that burden. Denied that familial obligation that she seemed to see as no obligation at all.

"Makoto…"

"Do you want the rest of the story or not?"

"Makoto."

"What?" She let out a harsh little laugh. "Oh, now you're feeling guilty about forcing me to come out? Only now that you understand that I would never have done that to you?"

The elder sibling's expression suddenly became drawn, as pained as the younger's had been moments ago. "Makoto, please, I have told you that isn't why… I thought she was taking advantage of you. All I wanted was to protect the only family I have left. Why is that so wrong?"

After thinking about it for a moment or two, her little sister did nod. "You're right. I'm just angry that we got caught, and you're the one that brought me in here. But I know…" A deep, bracing breath. "I know you're doing your job, and you're trying to look out for me. Sorry about my attitude."

"Well I suppose in your shoes, I would be doing the same. Not that I think you have made the wisest decisions, but…" She sighed shakily, sitting back and gesturing for her to continue. "Finish."

"Sis… are you crying?"

"No. I'm waiting for you to finish your testimony."

Staring hard at the watery sheen to her elder sister's eyes, Makoto finally breathed, "Alright. We're almost through, anyway, so I suppose I should."

                                          ~ x The Priestess x ~

When I told Ann about the plan I had, she was actually pretty excited. Said that it was 'fantastique', and she was completely on board with helping me. However, there was one little detail we needed to take care of before we finished cementing all other plans - and it meant I finally had no choice but to fill her in.

"Nine…?" she whispered as we peered around the corner of the hallway toward class 2-D. Toward where Miss Kawakami was berating one of her students just outside the door, gesturing up and down his entire body.

"I would say seven."

"Nah, her hips are just a little too wide."

"Hmm… maybe." I squinted for another second, then nodded. "You're probably right. We'll play it safe."

"Still can't believe it's her," Ann hissed with a huge, conspiratorial grin. "Like… okay, sorry if this is super weird, but go you! She's really hot!"

My cheeks burst into flames. "Shhhhh! Sh-she is not! I mean, she is, but that's not what I- we aren't here to check her out!"

"Hey, c'mon, let me brag on you a little! The other teachers aren't bad, but even though half the time she doesn't do her hair or makeup… Kawakami is a knockout. And you're practically going out with her!"

"Ugh," I grunted, even while privately thrilled that Ann was still taking the situation so well. There had been a lot of squealing, and some amount of "I had no idea!" and "You can't tell by looking at her!", but overall my friend stayed focused on helping figure out how to get the two of us together. How did I luck into such supportive, understanding, non-judgmental friends? But I would have to ponder that later. "What about the shoes?"

"You're asking me? You were the one playing with her feet!"

"I wasn't playing with- okay, fine. I'm not very good at knowing sizes by sight though. Mine are twenty-twos."

"Lucky. Mine are twenty-fives; can't ever find cute shoes. Well, I can, but not everywhere. Easier to find 'em out West, they stock bigger sizes there."

"Ah, I'm sure that's frustrating," I told her earnestly. "Um… so compared to us…"

"She's probably… a twenty-three? But we're gonna be able to slip up less with shoes. You know if they don't fit just right, they suck. Murder if you have to walk in them at all."

Sighing, I said, "Yeah. I'd better ask."

"You got this! I believe in you!"

As I made my way around the corner and toward my teacher, I could just catch her snapping, "...and next time, I won't be so nice. Get going, Takeba." Meanwhile, I was quickly scrolling through a webpage on my phone. As the student ran off, she turned to sigh when she saw me coming. "Niijima-san… I hope this is about schoolwork."

"Well, not exactly. It's not that bad!" I headed her off when she started to look even more tired.

"Okay, okay. Follow me." She led me to the corner of the hallway that was the least occupied. "What's up?"

"So I've, um… I've been thinking about getting into solestry. What shoe size are you?"

"Huh? Oh… um, twenty-three and a half. But what's that got to-"

"Cool! I just, um, I would need to factor it into your chart. So do you have wide feet or high arches? Flat arches? Anything like that?"

My poor, mystified teacher shrugged. "Not that I know of. Did you notice anything like that?"

"No, but I mean, a lot was happening," I admitted with a slight wilt, and she chuckled. "Sorry. But I'll do your chart after school and can show it to you soon - and if I need to fill more in, well, I'll take a look later."

"You're starting to worry me. On the other hand… you do have me curious." She lowered her voice even more to ask, "Were you going to request me?"

"Yeah. Of course. I'm looking forward to it."

"Seems that way," she sighed. "And this isn't about the money - though I still have to charge since it's through Victoria. There just isn't any other inconspicuous way for me to meet up with you. Um…"

When she continued to hesitate, I prompted, "What?"

"It's not going to be another rabuho, right?"

"Oh, no, no! My apartment." Her eyes widened. "Is that not good?"

"What about your family?"

"It's just my sister living with me. And she's gone almost… all the time. But I made sure she plans on working late tonight."

Kawakami nodded, eyebrows still furrowed as she regarded me, smooth lips just the tiniest bit pursed. I had this sense she was about to make a comment about my family situation - maybe one of regret. Not that she could have resurrected my parents either way. Then she merely said, "Alright. Put in the call when you're ready."

"I will. Thank you." I bowed slightly, turned, and got the hell out of there.

"Oh my God, you took so long," Ann whispered as we headed off to the courtyard. "What was all that about?"

"Fortune-telling."

"Huh?!"

                                          ~ o ~

Our little shopping trip went smoother than I had any right to expect. Armed with recently-acquired knowledge, I was able to pick up everything in one trip. Ann tagged along, and Ryuji even ran into us while we were out - which came in especially useful.

"Awww, c'mon!" he grunted as we staggered away from the subway with a huge armload of boxes and bags. "How much further, you guys?!"

"Almost there," I promised him easily as we turned a corner. "Just a few more kilometers."

"Ahhhhh, you gotta be kiddin' me! What the hell?!"

Ann giggled. "C'mon, be a trooper! Do it for me? Huh?"

"Told ya before, you ain't my type," he grumbled - though it was barely audible behind the wall of packages.

Our apartment is not large, but it is fairly nice. Very classy. That wasn't why I was nervous about having friends over. Mostly it was the unfamiliarity of it; I had never done this before, for anybody. Not a single friend from primary school ever stopped by. Just didn't bother asking because none of them wanted to hang out with me.

I guess now I know that's because you gave me that advice, Sis. Well-intentioned, but it didn't work out in my favour.

"Whooo, sweet place you got here!" Ryuji declared once he had dumped all the packages on the dining room table. "Yeah, real nice pad!"

"It's super fancy and modern!" Ann gushed. They had such a similar energy, those two - just directed down different avenues. "Wow, I'm so jealous of this kitchen!"

"Sweet TV! Man, like super high-def and shit!"

"Can I get some water? You have your own water cooler! Oooh - is that an espresso machine?!"

Laughing a little, I said, "Can you two calm down for one minute? It's just an apartment. I can give you the tour if you want."

So I did. Only when I got to my bedroom did Ann waggle her eyebrows at me, but she didn't do anything more than that, at least. Ryuji crept curiously toward my closet but Ann pulled him back by the waistband of his cargo shorts before smacking him across the back of the head. At least it only took that one admonition to cut him off.

"And that's your sister's room?" she asked as we passed the door.

"Yeah. Um… it's the smaller room, and it's kind of… we should stay out. I don't think she would be happy if we went in there."

"Yeah, yeah," Ryuji sighed in Ann's direction. "And listen, I wasn't even gonna take anything, I just wanted to see how big it was!"

Her smirk was poisonous. "Sure, sure, you little perv."

With a groan, he flopped on our soft purple couch. "I'm beat from carryin' all that stuff. Chicks are all the same, just want you to carry stuff while they shop."

"You haven't even known any 'chicks' until this year!" Ann fired back.

"Maybe not! But like, I watch movies about 'em and whatever! Ren and I saw that one flick at the theater, where the-"

"Okay, okay, Ryuji, yes," I interrupted their budding spat. "And I'm sure I'll agree with you any other day. But Ann and I have girly things to do, so…"

Alright, so I actually did feel guilty when he looked like a wounded puppy. "Oh. I thought we were gonna hang out and junk."

"Maybe another time. But, um…" I moved to the fridge and got out a bottle of Pocari Sweat and handed it to him where he sat on the couch. "Consider this a down payment on me getting you ramen sometime? You can hang out for a little longer and catch your breath."

Noticing how put out he looked, Ann added, "Yeah! Seriously, thanks."

"Well… I guess the girly stuff wouldn't interest me that much… though I do wonder how you do the eyelash thing without poking yourself in the eye."

"Well… why don't I show you that while you rest? I don't mind."

"Yeah, sure, why not? Might be cool."

Demonstrating the finer points of mascara seemed to help our friend feel a little less unceremoniously ousted. By the time he was at the bottom of his beverage, he was willing to hop out the door and leave us to our "girls' night", as he kept calling it. Way too many times.

                                          ~ o ~

I'll skip ahead to when Ann had already left me to my own devices. Once the scene was set, and the hour was right, I dialed the number for Victoria and had them patch me through to the proper maid.

"Hiyeeee! I'm going to fill your tired heart full of lovely energy, Master! How may I help you tonight?"

"It's me."

"Oh." Her saccharin tone faded, though she didn't sound displeased to hear me. Just comfortable dropping the act. "Well, considering most of my clients have deeper voices, I don't really need to ask for confirmation."

"Probably not," I laughed softly, excited more than I wished I was. What a little dork I've turned out to be. "Um… can you come soon?"

"I'm totally free. It's… kinda sad how free I am, but at least it means I can see you right away."

"Another double-length slot. Is that alright?" No answer. "Becky?"

"Well… it's fine, but are you sure you have that kind of a budget to work with? Normally, I wouldn't ask that since it's so personal, but…"

I waved my hand to dismiss the question, despite her being unable to see it. "Don't worry about that. Seriously. I just wanna make sure we have all the time we need. That's more important than a few more yen."

"Sure, yeah. I understand." A little of Becky returned as she said, "I look forward to serving you, Master! See you in about fifteen minutes!"

"Okay. See you then."

By the time I heard a knock at the door, all was in place. I moved to quickly open it, not wanting to waste a second of her time.

"Housekeepi- oh! Master!"

"Good evening," I told her easily with a slight bow before I took a step backward. "Welcome to my home."

As my maid stepped inside, I could see her eyes raking up and down my form. Perhaps I went a little overboard, between the deep shade of crimson I had painted my fingers and toes, and the sleek black a-line dress that hugged my curves. But she didn't seem disappointed; just surprised and unsure of how to react.

"Thanks for getting here so quickly," I told her as I shut the door behind her.

"Sure… no problem. Um… what's going on? Something smells amazing."

"Don't worry about it right now. I have one job for Becky."

"One?" Then she turned to me and bowed deeply. "I mean, yes, Master! Becky just wants to see a smile on Master's face more than anything!"

"Sure," I chuckled. "Then what I want you to do… is change into the clothes in the bathroom. Then I'd like Miss Kawakami to come out. I figured I could do better than a robe this time."

Though her eyes were definitely suspicious, after a moment to think it over she bowed again. "Right away, Master."

About five or ten minutes later, Sadayo emerged. And she looked gorgeous. The silver evening gown with the modest neckline shimmered as it caught the light, the slit that ran halfway up her thigh giving just the tiniest glimpse of interest without revealing everything. Somehow, we even found a pair of heels to perfectly match. And, as I had been hoping, she ditched the wig along with the maid uniform.

"Ohhhh wow," I breathed into my hands, which had flown up to cover my mouth the instant I caught sight of the vision in my apartment.

"Oh wow!" she echoed when she saw my table. Having planned for a quick change, the amount of time she spent putting on the dress was enough for me to move the duck l'orange to the center of the table, two flickering candles on either side and the other dishes further along. Soft piano music was playing in the background as an open bottle of wine breathed, ready to be poured into the two glasses at each place setting.

"Dinner is served," I told her with a very Becky-like curtsy. "Care to join me?"

A smirk was just blossoming on her lips as she walked over to stand next to me. "What's going on here? If I didn't know any better I'd say you're trying to sweep me off my feet again."

"Maybe a little. But… I mean, you were coming over to talk, not just to clean my apartment or whatever. Why shouldn't we have a nice dinner while we talk?"

"That… is a little bit of a stretch, but I guess it does make some sense. And that duck smells amazing." When I pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit, she laughed, "Such a gentleman."

Still, she did take her seat. Once I scooted her forward, I rounded the table and took my own, then held the bottle out for her to inspect.

"Yep, that sure is wine. But I don't think either one of us is supposed to be drinking it right now; you're a couple years too young, and I'm on the clock. Technically."

"Oh, that's right… sorry."

My expression must have made her feel guilty, because she held up her glass and said, "One glass probably won't hurt. You did book a double; we have time."

So I poured us both a moderately sized glass. Then I put the cork back in the bottle, just to show her that I was serious about not trying to get her drunk or whatever she might be thinking. She took a small sip while I served her some of the duck, plus a heaping spoonful of the potatoes au gratin.

"Mmmhhhhh, it is as good as it smells!" she announced after she had sampled a forkful. "I didn't know you were such a little chef."

"Oh, I googled a recipe. Even if I don't know something, I'm pretty good at research."

"And putting that research into practice, I see. Not bad, Makoto-chan." Her eyes closed for a moment. I wasn't sure what she was doing until she corrected, "Niijima-san."

I waved my fork at her as I finished swallowing my own bite. "I don't mind."

"That's not…" With a sigh, she set down the fork and took a long drink of her wine. Then she fixed me with a level gaze.

"Okay," I muttered as I also set my fork down. "Guess we're doing this part already."

"Guess so. Niijima-san… Makoto. If I have led you on-"

"No, no… wait." I cleared my throat, folding my hands just in front of my plate. "You haven't. I'm sorry. For the way I looked at you in the hall, or… whatever made you think that."

Sadayo let out a weak little chuckle. "Then what are we doing here? Candlelit dinner, these dresses… I'm actually flattered. More than I thought I could be flattered by one of my students. But you know this can't happen, don't you?"

My heart was already speeding up, stomach churning. But I tried to take a sip of wine and let both of those reactions calm down. "I know."

"Then… what…?"

"Maybe I just wanted to see what this would feel like. Pursuing a woman. A test." Heaving a big sigh, I added, "But I also wanted to give you a nice dinner, because… it just… felt right. You do so much, and are being so great about me not knowing what I'm doing, and… we had to talk anyway, so…"

"Makoto…" Frowning, she leaned a little further forward and reached past the duck and my plate to my hands. "Listen. You're a wonderful girl-"

"You don't have to-"

"No, no, let me say this. Alright?" Her thumb caressed up and down my fingers. "You're… really surprising me. Like I told you before, I've never had anybody chase after me this much. Even if you are my student, and young, and… not quite my 'type', it's really… I do get butterflies anytime you do something like this. You're gonna make somebody really happy someday! But I can't enjoy those butterflies because I know it's wrong. Okay? So you have to stop, but I just need you to understand it has nothing to do with you as a person."

My hand flipped over to catch hers, and we held on for a few more seconds. Looked into each other's eyes. And I could see fear mingling with excitement, doubt mixing with despair. And longing - the same kind that I felt in the pit of my stomach.

"Sadayo?"

Her eyes lowered. "I'm your teacher. And older, and… come on, why would you care about some old woman?"

"Because you aren't 'some old woman'. You're a beautiful, smart, capable… strong, brave, kind, funny woman. Which are good things."

"But that's-"

"And I know that doesn't have to mean anything between us," I hurried to follow up. "That's not what this is about, I promise. Honestly, I have no idea what I'm feeling because it's the first time I felt it. But maybe… part of why I did this was to prove I'm not just some little girl who doesn't know anything at all. What I don't already know, I can learn."

Magically, it worked. I left Sadayo speechless. The tiniest part of me started to hope she at least wasn't going to dismiss me. Not that we would be together; that was impossible, just like she said. But that she would consider it for more than a half-second.

What I didn't expect was for her to pull her hand back, shaking as she pressed it into her forehead. "Oh God… oh God, this is not happening…"

"Sadayo?"

"Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay." She cleared her throat as if she were going to say something else, but all that came out was another, "Okay."

"Seriously, what's wrong?" I asked in a sharper voice, sitting forward the tiniest bit. The way her eyes were bugging out of her head was highly disconcerting.

"What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong - I'm on a damn date with my damn student."

                                          To Be Continued…

[mazurah]

Lost in Time Ch. 38: Prejudice - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Fayrl and Ma’zurah arrive in Windhelm. Several disappointing things happen.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: T for fantastic racism.

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Lost in Time Chapter 38: Prejudice

They arrived at Windhelm mid-afternoon of the next day. It became noticeably cooler the farther north they went, but it was not the temperature Ma'zurah minded so much as the wind, which blew her fur in the wrong direction and dried out her nose. Though there was no snow on the ground and the local plants were in their summer bloom, the wind was biting and chill. Ma’zurah wrapped her face in her scarf and tucked her tail into her skirts.

As they approached the stables outside the main gate, they were greeted by a cheerful Altmer with a Cyrodiilic accent. “Hello there! Here about the stables? I’m Ulundil, stablemaster here. Fine horse you have there!”

Fayrl paused, mid dismount, bristling at the unexpected sight of the Altmer before them. “We are,” he replied with an uncharacteristic lack of warmth in his voice, “and thank you.” He held out a hand to assist Ma’zurah.

She took his hand and slid awkwardly out of the saddle, giving Ulundil a cheeky wave. “We need a place for our horse to stay for the night, possibly longer.”

Ulundil grinned and patted the horse’s nose. “Certainly! My rates are a flat fee of twenty five gold, plus an additional twenty five gold per night. That includes feed and grooming, and exercise on days when you will not be back for her.”

“Reasonable, I suppose,” Fayrl grumbled. “We accept. Would you like the first night up front or do you prefer the full bill settled at the end?”

“I usually take the flat fee up front, then settle the bill at the end, but you can pay up front if you like,” the Altmer told Fayrl amiably. “Does she have a name?”

Ma'zurah stroked the horse’s mane. “We only just got her. We have not named her yet. Perhaps Isharsha. She is a very sweet-tempered horse. A very good horse.”

“That is a lovely name!” the Altmer exclaimed. “I'm sure she will be a delight to care for.”

Fayrl rolled his eyes and dug through his coin purpose to retrieve the gold and handed it to Ulundil. “Thank you for looking after her.”

Who was this Altmer anyways, he thought. Where did he get off acting so friendly? As if they had time to name the horse. Maybe Fredas Delight would be a good name. They could name her just in time for it Turdas evening. He did not understand why Ma’zurah was being so nice either. The Altmer was just a stablehand.

Ulundil took the gold and pocketed it, then pulled a writing tablet from his apron to write them a receipt. “No, thank you.”

Ma'zurah grinned at him. “You know, you remind Ma'zurah of an Altmer she once knew on the Bitter Coast of Vvardenfell. He was a lovely mer named Arille, and he helped Ma'zurah get on her feet when she did not have much to offer. You seem like a nice person like that.”

“Aw! Why thank you! You seem like a nice person yourself! I'd love it if you wanted to stay and chat.”

“Oh!” Ma'zurah looked pleased, though taken aback by the invitation. “Perhaps when we return for our horse. We need to find a place to stay before it gets dark.”

“Oh my! You’re heading into the city? You might want to cover your face more and avoid the guards. Don't bother with Candlehearth Hall. The woman that runs the place doesn't seem to like anyone who isn't a Nord. Just be careful. Mer aren't always too kindly looked upon by the Nords around here, and beast races really aren't allowed inside the city.”

Fayrl tapped his foot. “Thank you for the information,” he said and held out his arm for Ma’zurah. He didn’t trust this mer. He was up to something. Why would he want them to stay longer? Was he fishing for information? It was just so suspicious. He did not like or trust this mer, not at all.

Ma’zurah took Fayrl’s arm, and wrapped her face more closely with her scarf. She waved at Ulundil and the pair walked down the long bridge to the gate of Windhelm.

“Why are you humoring his foul intentions?” grumbled Fayrl as they headed towards the gate. “He’s just a stablehand.”

“Foul… intentions?” Ma’zurah shot Fayrl a skeptical glance. “He was nice.”

“Too nice,” Fayrl muttered under his breath.

The main gate was a huge stone affair, adorned with the carved heads of birds of prey. As the pair approached, the bored guards waved them inside without taking a particularly close look at them.

Ma’zurah stopped as they passed through the open doors, taking in her first sight of the City of Kings. She wasn't sure what she had been expecting, but she hadn't expected it to be so… grey. There was hardly any plant life to be seen, and almost everything was made of the same grey stone. A sign in front of them declared the building directly ahead to be Candlehearth Hall.

Fayrl’s brow furrowed in confusion. There was an inn where the Mages Guild once stood. The Guild had been an apolitical organization devoted to learning and the preservation of knowledge. What could have happened to see it removed? His attention was momentarily taken by the thought.

A harsh, gravelly voice broke into the pair’s awareness. "You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!"

Ma’zurah glanced to her right and spotted two Nord men confronting a Dunmer lady. One of the Nords was dressed in rags, the other in rich clothing. Both of them were at least somewhat drunk. The Dunmer held up her hands towards them in a pacifying gesture. "But we haven't taken a side because it's not our fight."

The Nord in rags leaned toward his companion. "Hey, maybe the reason these grey-skins don't help in the war is because they're Imperial spies!"

The Dunmer looked incredulous. "Imperial spies? You can't be serious!"

The better dressed Nord grinned at the Dunmer maliciously. "Maybe we'll pay you a visit tonight, little spy. We got ways of finding out what you really are."

The Dunmer recoiled with a look of fear on her face. The two Nords turned and stumbled drunkenly towards the inn, snickering together.

Fayrl strode over to the woman. “Are you alright, sera?”

“Yes, thank you. Honestly, this is nothing new. Most of the Nords living in Windhelm don't care much for us, but Rolff is the worst by far.” She shook her head.

Ma’zurah walked up behind Fayrl and stood quietly, trying not to draw too much attention to herself.

“Rolff?” asked Fayrl. “Was he one of those two just now?” Fayrl already saw the two as his next gifts to his Prince. “The drunker one?”

“Yes. Rolff Stone-Fist. His brother is Ulfric’s housecarl, so he thinks he’s much more important than he really is. He likes to get drunk and walk around the Grey Quarter yelling insults at us in the small hours of the morning. A real charmer, that one. But where are my manners? I’m Suvaris. Suvaris Atheron. Might I ask your name, traveller?” The Dunmer smiled and held out her hand to Fayrl.

“I’m Fayrl, of House Alari.” He took her hand and bowed over it. “Such a shame that one who claims to be so high can act so common as a drunken beggar.”

He glanced around for potential eavesdroppers and leaned closer to Suvaris. “Why did those Nord accuse you of being a spy? Are there prying eyes around to be aware of?”

Suvaris sighed. "Some of these Nords will come up with any excuse to despise us. And it isn't just the Dunmer they hate--they make a target of the Argonians as well. In fact, just about anyone who isn't a Nord is fair game for their bullying. You really must be new here. Fresh off the boat from Morrowind I take it? Who is your friend there?” She gestured at Ma’zurah.

“Oh, how very rude of me.” Fayrl held out his hand for Ma’zurah. “This is my wife, Ma’zurah. She’s a bit shy around new people. Particularly here in Skyrim where everyone seems so willing to be rough. Indeed, we have only arrived in Skyrim not a week ago. I must say, I was here once before in my younger days, though it seems like it was two eras ago.” He laughed. “I suppose we stick out like a cliff strider at a coronation.”

Ma’zurah stepped forward, taking Fayrl’s hand and nodding to Suvaris.

Suvaris blinked. “Welcome to Skyrim then,” she said politely. “I’m afraid if you’re looking for a warmer welcome, you've come to the wrong city. Windhelm's a haven of prejudice and narrow thinking. But perhaps you would care to join me for a drink?"

“It would be my great pleasure to join a lady as eloquent and graceful as yourself. Would we not be honored, my dear?” Fayrl turned and smiled to Ma’zurah.

Ma’zurah grinned behind her scarf and nodded.

“Oh my!” Suvaris laughed. “Such a charmer! Well, if you’ll follow me, I’m afraid the only place we Dunmer are welcome in Windhelm is the Grey Quarter. This way.” She gestured and led them off to the right.

Fayrl did not like the sound of a “grey quarter”. It meant the city was segregated, something that disheartened him very much to hear. How badly had the Pact’s tenets fallen apart? How bad had things become?

Their path led downhill, and the road became progressively muddier the lower they went. They turned into a great chasm that appeared to have been carved into the bedrock of the city. The walls of the canyon were lined with precarious wooden bridges and structures and the doors of dwellings. The sun shone in at an angle as it sank lower, illuminating faded, tattered flags that fluttered across the narrow stretch of sky, proclaiming homage to saints in jagged Daedric script. Ragged and half naked Dunmer children shouted and played on the rickety stairs to shops and houses, and harried mothers with squalling babies strapped to their backs walked swiftly along the dirty streets.

Ma’zurah’s eyes grew wide as she took in the poverty of the Grey Quarter. She gripped Fayrl’s hand tighter. This was nothing like the clean, sunny streets of Whiterun or the maze-like stone stairways of Markarth. It was worse than the slums of southern Balmora, into which Ma'zurah had needed to venture to report to her superior officer in the Blades, Caius Cosades. It was worse even than the waterfront district of the Imperial City near which she had lived after leaving Elsweyr.

Fayrl’s heart sank as he saw just how terrible the conditions had become. He recalled how merry Windhelm used to be, Dunmer, Nord, and Argonian all drinking and dancing together during celebrations. Sure, there were occasionally those Nords who would shout insults of “Fancy man!” or “Grey face!”, but they were few and usually scolded if they made any kind of a scene.

This level of poverty was different; this was oppression. This was the way that the Dres had treated the Argonians after the formation of the Pact. To treat another group of people in such a way, as though they were animals, as though they were trash, it was abhorrent. Fayrl’s stomach turned. This was unforgivable.

Suvaris pointed ahead to a sign that read “New Gnisis Cornerclub”. “It’s just ahead, there. Probably the nicest place you can get a drink in Windhelm if you’re of the Merrish races.”

“Thank you,” said Fayrl. “You are so very kind to guide us.” He had to remind himself not to give any indication that he noticed the stench of foulness that lingered in the air.

The pair followed Suvaris up the stairs and into the cornerclub. The darkened interior smelled of smoke and Morrowind spices that made Ma’zurah’s heart ache for Vvardenfell. The sudden rush of recognition the familiar scents conjured within her nearly brought tears to her eyes. She gripped Fayrl’s arm hard and clung to his side.

Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. The place was worn, but clean. There was a long bar with a Dunmer barkeeper, and several Dunmer patrons scattered at tables around the room speaking in low voices in Dunmeris.

"Welcome newcomers,” the barkeeper called as they entered. “Welcome, Suvaris. Have a seat, there should be plenty of space."

Fayrl smiled at the man. “Thank you, my good mer.” He turned back to their host. “This is quite a nice establishment. Thank you for recommending it. Do they serve proper drinks here as well?”

“They get imports from Solstheim, but those are more expensive than the local brews.” Suvaris seated herself at a table on the left side of the room near the bar. “You can get a proper sujamma if you like though.”

“A sujamma would be lovely,” said Fayrl. “Haven’t had one since I left Morrowind. It feels like so long ago and far away.”

Ma’zurah sat down and unwound her scarf from around her head. Suvaris blinked at her. “I wondered if your name sounded Khajiit! Well, you won’t get any trouble in the Grey Quarter unless that wretch Rolff shows up again. Nobody has any desire to bring the guard down here.”

“Ah, yes,” interjected Fayrl, “we thought it best if we did not bring attention to that fact where the guard is about. These Nord guards seem to take issue with everyone except their own kind.”

Ma’zurah grinned. “Ma’zurah will take any sweet wines they have here, please.”

“Ambarys!” Suvaris called to the barkeeper. “Bring a couple of sujammas and a sweet wine if you would be so kind!”

“Coming right up!” the barkeeper responded and moved to bring them their drinks.

“So,” began Suvaris, “What brings you to Windhelm?”

“Oh, we are just passing through on our way to Winterhold,” said Fayrl. “But that is hardly important. Tell me more about yourself, Suvaris. I am quite curious why it is you remain here if the treatment by the locals is so terrible. Could you not find a safer haven elsewhere?”

“Well I personally stay because I managed to get a good job with the East Empire Company’s major competitor in the area, Shatter-Shield Shipping. Torbjorn Shatter-Shield wants the shipping operations to bring in cash, and I make it happen. I get paid quite well for it, too.”

The barkeeper came by with their drinks. "Don't you ever find it demeaning, working for that Nord family?" he asked Suvaris as he set the drinks down on the table.

"Look, Ambarys,” Suvaris snapped, “I just came here for a drink. I don't need a lecture."

"Fine, then,” the barkeeper said with a snide sniff. “I guess some Dunmer are content to be the Nords’ pets.”

Suvaris put a warning hand on the other Dunmer’s arm. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and you're going to leave me alone. Deal?"

Ambarys rolled his eyes and walked back to the bar.

Fayrl shared a glance with Ma’zurah, before turning back to Suvaris with an amused smile. “Seems like everyone here is like one big family; everyone worried about everyone else’s business.”

Suvaris laughed. “Sounds accurate. But where was I? Oh yes, why people stay. Basically, after the Red Year, there were so many refugees with nowhere to go that the Jarl ‘gifted’ us the entire Grey Quarter. It’s been nearly two hundred years, and for most of us, it’s our home now. Would you want to leave your home, sera?”

"Things have been a lot worse around here since Ulfric took over,” Ambarys called from his place behind the bar. “His father was much more concerned about the wellbeing of all the people instead of the accumulation of power.” He wiped the bar with a tattered cloth, obviously bored and listening in on their conversation.

“Ambarys….” Suvaris said in a tired voice.

“Right, sorry. I’m going.” The mer moved further down the bar and struck up a conversation in Dunmeris with another Dunmer.

“Is that so? Hmm.” Fayrl paused in thought, wondering. They had met this man, Ulfric, being taken to Helgen just before the Dragon attack. He wondered if Ulfric had returned to his city or gone into hiding.

“I am sure it is none of my business,” he began, “but perhaps if an outsider were to voice concerns, the Jarl might listen better. I wonder, is it easy to get an audience to speak with him? I think I might be able to explain the situation quite well.”

“Well, I doubt you would be able to get an audience with Ulfric himself,” Suvaris said thoughtfully. “He hasn’t held any public audiences since he started this whole civil war. You might be able to request an audience with his steward, but I doubt it. I’m sure I appreciate the gesture though.”

“Of course,” Fayrl said. “I was a diplomat back in Morrowind, so I try to do my best by my people. When my House heard there was trouble in Skyrim, of course the first thought I had was of our kin in the north. Tell me, how has this war affected life for our people here? And when did you first notice the changes? Was it just before the war? Surely there were signs of change in the air.”

Suvaris frowned in thought. “Well, there was restlessness for years, ever since the end of the Great War and the signing of the White Gold Concordat. The banning of Talos wasn’t really too much of a problem among most of the Nords at first. Talos isn’t in the traditional Nordic pantheon, so it wasn’t a problem until Ulfric escaped from the Thalmor shortly after his father’s death. He had to write his father’s eulogy from prison, you know. Once he took power he started making speeches about not letting the Thalmor dictate who the Nords could and could not worship. He never really got into the whole governance part of the Jarlship, he just went straight to fighting the Concordat. The Dunmer got treated worse the more Ulfric talked about ‘throwing off the shackles of the elves’ or whatever his nonsense was, but it didn’t get really bad until Ulfric marched into the Blue Palace in Solitude and Shouted High King Torygg to death.”

“Oh, I see,” said Fayrl gravely. “Yes, this is a very serious matter indeed. It may be even more serious than my superiors believe.”

Ma’zurah leaned forward and put her wine back on the table. “Wait, he Shouted the king to death? He cannot be Dragonborn… Ulfric is… a Tongue? Like the old stories from Resdayn?”

“Oh! Yes, didn’t you know?” Suvaris looked startled. “He was sent to study with the Greybeards at a very young age, and he was going to be a Greybeard, but he apparently ran away to fight in the Great War and abandoned his apprenticeship.”

Fayrl glanced at Ma'zurah, worried. The mention of Ulfric having some of the same powers as Ma’zurah and having been taught by the same group that had summoned her would likely cause her some stress; and what with her being Nerevarine, hearing about a Jarl engaging in such activities would likely not sit well with her either.

“My dear and luminous host,” he addressed Suvaris, “might we beg one final favor from you?”

Suvaris raised an eyebrow. “Possibly, what do you need?”

“In light of the current animosity towards our kin in the city, would you recommend a place for the both of us to stay? I assume the inn at the front gate would be ill-advisable. Is there anywhere a bit more… accommodating to our kind?”

“Well Ambarys does have beds for rent, but they aren’t exactly private. I agree though, I doubt you would be able to get a room at Candlehearth Hall, and your wife most certainly wouldn’t. Ambarys!”

“Yes, Suvaris?” Ambarys slid down the bar, smirking.

“You have any spare beds for these two?”

Ambarys gave the pair an evaluative look. “I’ve got a couple bunks available so long as you don’t mind bedding down in a roomful of grumpy Dunmer.”

“Well there you are,” Suvaris said turning back to Fayrl. “Ambarys doesn’t have enough room to run a proper inn, so he has what is basically a bunkhouse here instead.”

“If you want the beds I can show you which ones are available now,” Ambarys offered.

“And I should get going.” Suvaris gave Fayrl an apologetic look. “I have an evening shift today.” She finished her drink in one long draught.

“Thank you so much,” said Fayrl earnestly. “You have been beyond helpful. I shall strive to do what I can to seek a solution to the plight of our people and other groups within the city.” He raised his glass and nodded his thanks, then turned to Ambarys. “My good mer, we would be most grateful if you had some room for us.”

“It was lovely meeting you!” Ma’zurah told Suvaris. Suvaris smiled and passed Ambarys some coins for the drinks. She waved and walked out the front door.

Ma’zurah finished her wine and stood. “Alright, where are these bunks?” she asked Ambarys.

“Right this way, seras.” Ambarys motioned them toward a door in the back wall.

Fayrl rose to follow Ambarys and held out his arm for Ma’zurah. “Shall we?”

Ma’zurah smiled at Fayrl and shouldered her pack. She took Fayrl’s arm and followed Ambarys up a dark stairwell to the second floor of the building. Ambarys motioned the open doorway to the next room, which contained two rows of bunks. “There you are! The last two bunks in the far corner on the right should be free for your use. Feel free to use them at your convenience, just try to stay quiet after dark. The cost is ten gold a night for the both of you.”

Ma’zurah sniffed the air. “You do not have skooma addicts sleeping here, do you?”

Ambarys’ brow furrowed. “I should hope not. I can’t stand the stuff.”

Fayrl placed a hand on Ma’zurah’s arm. “Come, my love, it is not polite to accuse people of such things.”

He turned to Ambarys. “Thank you so much for the beds. I do not know what we would have done without your kindness. Shall we pay you now or in the morning for our beds?”

“Ai, sorry!” Ma'zurah interjected. “Ma’zurah is not accusing. She could just swear she smells…” She trailed off and turned in a circle sniffing. She walked in a slow spiral that ended under the stairs that led to the third floor. “Ziss, Ma’zurah knew it!”

Ambarys scowled and walked over to her. His mouth dropped open when Ma’zurah pointed to a small bottle partially obscured behind some storage crates. The bottle had fallen on its side and a large drop of whatever substance it contained hung from its imperfectly sealed cap. Ambarys broke into an impressive string of invectives in multiple languages. “Where in Boethiah’s bollocks did this come from?” he asked when his cursing slowed. “Who put--why would--n’chow!” His eyes widened. “This has to be a plant! Oh gods, they’re going to call the guard and put me out of business!”

Fayrl watched the scene with passive curiosity. “Has someone been trying to have your business shut down, my friend? Who might do such a heinous act to a good and proper business owner?”

“Gods! I don’t know! The Nords maybe? I have to get rid of it before whoever it is calls the guard down here!” Ambarys gripped at his hair. “What to do, what to do?! Going to have to take the blighted thing down to the docks and throw it in the fetching river!”

“Good!” Ma’zurah said emphatically. “Skooma is an abomination to the gods! Ma’zurah cannot stand it!”

Fayrl gave Ma’zurah a pointed look to let her know that she was not helping.

“Allow us to take the bottle out of your establishment,” he offered Ambarys. “If we are caught it will not confirm any suspicions from anyone. It is the least we can do for your having helped us out with a space to sleep. I would not look forward to having to beg Nords for a pile of rotting straw. Please, allow us.”

Ambarys stared at Fayrl. “I… you know what? Just take the damned stuff. Just don’t come back with it and I’ll be happy.”

Fayrl bowed. “It will be our pleasure.” He stashed the bottle away in his bag. “We shall get rid of this and return to you.” He held out his arm for Ma’zurah. “Shall we go and take care of this, my dear? I know the perfect spot to dispose of it.”

Ma’zurah pressed her lips together, wrapped her face in her scarf again, and took Fayrl’s hand, following him back down the stairs and out into the street.

End Notes:

Velothi Translation: Isharsha = Silky One

The Velothi language is a conlang being developed by the wonderful @chameleonspell​. You should read their writing!

Context: Julan used to call Ma’zurah Isharsha in his native language. She’s considering naming their horse that because she misses him and it’s nice to have a reminder of him. Plus, their horse is very silky. Look:

If you haven't seen it yet, there's new art of Ma'zurah and Fayrl here, here, here, and here.

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

[mazurah]

Lost in Time Ch. 27: Children - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma’zurah gets into a fight and tells a story.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: T for swearing, including swearing at children, and the aftermath of very implicit child abuse.

First Chapter - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

Lost in Time Chapter 27: Children

Ma'zurah led Logrolf down the hall from the room of sleeping children to the entrance hall. “Ma'zurah needs to talk to you. Ma'zurah has to warn you that Molag Bal is determined to make you submit. He tried to get Fayrl and Ma'zurah to bring you to him.”

“So you have heard of me,” Logrolf laughed. “Well, of course you have! I am sure that Molag Bal did ask that of you. I have desecrated his altar on multiple occasions and he has been powerless to prevent me! Lady Boethiah gives her faithful her protection, so I am free to spit in the face of her enemies. Once I have gathered the necessary reagents, I will venerate his altar in Boethiah's name, as I did before.”

Ma'zurah looked alarmed. The man might be rude, but he didn't deserve to be subjected to whatever Molag Bal had planned for him. No one did. “The House of Troubles are not Princes to be trifled with! They provide trials to be endured and survived! Even with the protection of the Covenant, dealings with them walk the edge of a knife! And Mazurah can assure you, desecrating their altars is not under the Covenant!”

“You do not understand. How could you? A Khajiit would have no understanding of the power of such a god.” Logrolf looked at Ma’zurah with smug sympathy. “You think the pitiful Molag Bal can best Boethiah's faithful? I have won this contest before! I leave the rescuing of children to you, but you leave the work of the Queen of Shadows to those who know her best."

Ma'zurah bared her teeth. How dare he?! She was trying to help him! She had numbered him among her allies and he was questioning even her competence! “Logrolf knows not to whom he speaks. Ma'zurah is the Champion of Azurah. Ma'zurah is well aware of the power of Azurah’s brother-sister, and she is giving Logrolf this warning: to become involved in the wars of the gods is to risk becoming crushed between them. Ma'zurah speaks from firsthand experience. She provides this warning out of the respect she holds Lord Boethiah and his teachings.”

“Champion? You?” Logrolf curled his lip at her in derision. “I think you misunderstand the meaning of the term. And even were you using it correctly, you are still young. I have a lot of experience in these matters. I understand the risks and rewards involved. The Queen of Deceit has shown her pleasure with my efforts! Your warnings are unnecessary. Though I suppose I should thank you for using so much of your mental faculties to relay them.”

Heat rushed to Mazurah’s face and she was filled with a blind need to make this man respect her authority. Her tail puffed and she gave a low warning growl. “You will show respect! This one is at least four times older than you could ever hope to live! She has learned more than you could ever hope to learn! She has spoken with Princes and Gods and retained both her loyalty and her sanity!”

“Not as though you had much to lose,” Logrolf scoffed. “Still, you have proven your usefulness in freeing me from my confines at the hands of those butcher barbarians. I shall have to give you a payment befitting your deeds when I have my possessions back. I think ten gold is fair for your hard won efforts.”

Ma’zurah’s temper snapped. She hissed and her tail lashed behind her. She held out both hands, palms toward herself, claws unsheathed, displayed the Ring of Azura and the Signet of Sheogorath sitting side by side her wedding ring on one hand, and the Ring of the Redoran Hortator and the Moon and Star on the other. “Do not insult this one! There can be no doubt that this one is who she says she is! You may think this one a weakling of Azurah, but this one exists because she has the will to do so! And she shall remain as long as there are signs of her handwork!” She dropped her hands and took a menacing step toward the taller man. “This one has suffered much that cannot be suffered! This one has weighed matters that no astrolabe or compass can measure! She warns you, there is no bone that cannot be broken except for the Heart bone; this one has seen it twice in this one's lifetimes!”

Logrolf crossed his arms and pressed his thin lips together, looking thoroughly unimpressed. Ma'zurah barreled on, angrier by the moment. “Your actions in the past may have pleased your Lord, and that is all very well and good. But this one thinks perhaps you do not truly understand the teachings of the Deceiver of Nations. To truly understand, you must know that the secret of weapons is this: they are the Mercy Seat!”

The priest snorted and rolled his eyes. Ma'zurah kept going, snarling as she spoke, determined to make him back down. “This one offers you one last warning for the sake of your devotion to the Devourer of Trinimac: peril falls upon those who offer insult to the Child of Azurah, for she guards her name with all the selfishness of the sea! You will show this one the respect this one has earned!”

Logrolf looked at her as one would a piteous thing; as though she was someone to humor. “I cannot deny you have bravado. You are well learned in your practiced speech as well. But I am not so as blind as to be swayed by mere trinkets or pretty words. I follow the God of Deception. And yes, let me guess, you're a master of theft as well as of killing savages. Bravo. But I hardly think there is much impressive about a Khajiit thief. It is what your people are good at. Why, I hear half of Riften these days are just your sort of people. Though, from the level of importance of your prizes, I am going to assume you befriend the great followers of the Daedra then steal from them. Is that why you are truly here? To try and steal from me as well?"

Mazurah saw red.

There was a yowl audible from outside the fortress. Squeals came from the room of Forsworn children as the ground shifted slightly.

Fayrl stopped playing his lute and laid it gently on the steps, giving the horse a reassuring pat and whispering to it to sleep until he woke it.

“Fjotra, I will check inside. Stay with Miss Horse and make sure she doesn't wake up. If something bad happens, I want you to get on Miss Horse, tell her ‘Hava’, and ride her as far from here as you can.”

Without waiting for confirmation, he ran back into the fortress. He only hoped that Ma’zurah was alright.

Ma’zurah had the priest pinned to the ground at the bottom of the steps of the entrance hall. She was straddling the man’s chest with one forearm against his neck and attempting to grab his wrists with her other hand.

From around the side of the door at the top of the stairs, three heads watched the scene unfolding in the hall.

“Ma’zurah was trying to give a friendly warning!” Ma'zurah hissed in the man’s face, baring her teeth. “But Logrolf had to be disrespectful at every turn and accuse this one of lying and of attempting to steal from him!” Her tail swished through the air angrily, all her fur puffed on end.

“Ma’zurah!” Fayrl yelled, “you cannot kill him!” He ran and pulled Ma’zurah bodily off the the priest, his arms under hers, gripping her by the shoulders.

The moment Ma’zurah was off him, Logrolf began coughing and scurried backwards until his back hit the stone wall. “She's mad! She's trying to kill me!”

Ma’zurah’s paws scrabbled under her, trying to gain traction to stand. “Why not?!” she demanded. “We shall have the trial of Boethiah’s proving! This one will live because that one will die!” She hissed in the priest’s direction and her lashing tail whipped at Fayrl’s legs.

“Mephala's left testicle!” cried Fayrl. We can't just kill a priest of the Three! This isn't one of Boethiah's provings! We are here to rescue people! Not to murder them! You haven't done any of the rites for that sort of thing!”

Logrolf drew the sword he had taken from the undead Forsworn. “I will defend myself if necessary, I warn you, cat!”

Fayrl whirled towards the man with one outstretched arm and summoned webs, pinning the man flat against wall. “You, shut up!”

He looked at Ma’zurah in his arms. “Have you forgotten about the children you were not supposed to be waking up?”

The three heads popped back behind the door with a collective gasp.

Ma’zurah gained her footing and stood, wrenching herself out of Fayrl’s grasp and brushing herself off. She glared at Fayrl. “Ma’zurah was trying to warn this wafiit about the plans of the Lord of Domination! But then he insulted this one!”

Fayrl sighed. “Do you kill everyone who insults you?” he asked tiredly, feeling the strain of using so many of his taxing skills in a row. It had been a long time since he’d had to fight so much, and he had grown unaccustomed to it. “And what are we going to do about the children now?”

The door slammed shut and there was a great commotion of scraping furniture behind the door.

“What is this disgusting pile of white excrement!” Logrolf spat. “I am a revered priest of Boethiah! How dare you treat me in this manner, you horse sodomizing simpleton!”

Ma’zurah gave Fayrl a sweet smile. “Nooo… Of course Ma’zurah does not try to kill everyone who insults her! Only the ones who should know better!”

Fayrl stalked over the the priest, ignoring Ma’zurah. He glared at Logrolf. “I thought I told you to be silent. You can do it on your own, or I will make you do it.”

“Oh, a threat! I see neither one of you can escape the confines of your natures. A thieving cat and a violent Dark Elf. I am sure I have never heard of tha--”

Fayrl ripped his bloodied tunic over his head and jammed it in the priest’s mouth. “I see what you mean,” he told Ma’zurah. “Let's let him stew while we see what the children have gotten up to. Hopefully they don't have any more knives. I feel I've been stabbed enough for one day.”

“Sure, just one thing first.” Ma’zurah walked up to the glaring priest and kicked him in the shins. “Jekosiit!” she hissed. Logrolf gave a muffled cry and shouted something incoherent into the tunic in his mouth.

Ma'zurah turned and walked with calm poise back up the stairs into the hallway and knocked on the door. “Hello?” she called.

“Go away!” came a small voice on the other side of the door.

Fayrl followed Ma’zurah. He wasn’t sure how they would get the children out without frightening them further.

“This one is Ma’zurah! Ma’zurah is sorry for acting scary! What are your names?”

“Go away!” said a different voice. “We aren’t telling you anything!”

“What if she tries to open the door?” asked the voice from before in a hushed tone, still audible through the wooden door.

“We have all the furniture up against it, she can’t get us,” said a third voice.

Fayrl gave Ma’zurah a look. “We need to be delicate with this.”

“Maybe Fjotra can help,” Ma’zurah suggested. “Go get her?”

Fayrl gave her an uneasy look, but obeyed with a sigh. He made his way back down the stairs, flashing a warning look at Logrolf before he went out to where Fjotra was.

“How are we doing out here?” he asked the girl.

Fjotra looked up from petting the horse. “Fine. Can we go now?”

“We are almost ready. First, we want you to come and meet the other children that were kept here. That way we can all go together. But they are scared to leave. Do you think you could talk with them?”

Fjotra gave him a doubtful look but nodded. “I guess. Why are they scared to leave?”

“Well, Ma’zurah was having a disagreement with that priest and she was a little bit upset. I think the children are afraid she might be angry with them too.”

“Oh. Okay.” Fjotra walked inside, making a face as she skirted the blood summoning circle.

Fayrl hurried after her, cursing himself for not catching up before she could see the remnants of whatever horror occurred in the entranceway. He caught pace with her and walked up the stairs, hoping that Ma’zurah hadn’t blown the door open while he was gone.

Ma’zurah had entered the empty bedroom opposite the children’s room, and emerged holding a book and a pair of leather boots when she heard them coming. “Hey,” she offered.

Fayrl looked her up and down. “I brought Fjotra,” he said with a smirk.

Ma’zurah blinked at him. “What? Nevermind! Here.” She shoved the leather boots into his arms. “Try these on. Yours keep getting ruined.”

Fjotra giggled, and Ma’zurah winked at her.

Fayrl sat down on a step that didn’t look too messy and began to unlace his boots, grumbling under his breath as he did.

Ma’zurah turned to Fjotra. “So these children are in there. We need to make friends with them so they will not be scared anymore.”

“Okay,” said Fjotra. She went up to the door. “Can you hear me?”

There was a smattering of hissed whispers.

“Let me answer!” said one voice.

There was a brief silence.

“I can hear you. What do you want?”

Fjotra sat down on the floor in front of the door. “Um. I’m Fjotra. What’s your name?”

“Morva. What do you want?”

“To make friends. I heard you were scared, but you don’t have to be!”

“Who said I was scared? I’m not scared!”

“Oh! That makes it easy then. You’ll come with me? I want to go home now, but they said we couldn’t leave because you were scared.”

Ma’zurah opened her mouth as though to speak, then closed it with a look of consternation.

Fayrl grinned, one boot on. The kid was good.

“Why should I care about if you get to go home?” asked Morva.

“Um… Because you’re a nice person? I was kidnapped last night, and I had a dream that a lady with big furry ears came to rescue me, and then it happened! She’s really nice, you’d like her.”

Ma’zurah shot Fayrl a smug look.

Fayrl rolled his eyes. He was a bit jealous, but he would never admit to it.

“You’re supposed to be in the shrine!” Morva cried. “How’d you get out!”

Fjotra looked confused. “I just told you. I got rescued. Don’t you want to go home too?”

“This is my home! Momma said you were a gift for the gods! You need to go back to the shrine.”

“How’d she get out?” asked another voice.

“She said she was rescued.”

“But how do you get rescued from going to see the gods? Why wouldn’t you want to be there?”

“I don’t know! I’m just telling you what she said.”

Fjotra frowned. “They weren’t taking me to see the gods! They were going to kill me! They said so! And they put blood all over Dibella’s statue! Why would they do that?”

“That’s how you go to see the gods. You can’t be alive and see them, dummy.”

“But I don’t want to die! And I can see the gods anytime I go to the Temple! Sometimes Dibella comes to me in my sleep too! Dying isn’t the only way to see the gods!”

“It is not,” Ma’zurah chimed in. “Ma’zurah has seen seven gods with her own eyes, and talked to many more than that. Some of them even gave her gifts, and Ma'zurah is not dead yet.”

There was a hushed discussion inside before anything else was spoken.

“What do you want from us?” Morva asked finally.

Ma’zurah moved closer to the door. “Ma’zurah promises she will not hurt you. She just needs you to come with her to Karthwasten. That is all.”

“Just come out?” Fjotra pleaded. “Please? I wanna go home.”

“They’re gonna do something bad when we go out there!” cried another voice.

“Oh, hush, Tyran! We never said we were going out!” hissed Morva.

“I think that’s the angry lady’s voice,” said another child. “The one that did this to Dryston.”

“Yes, Ma’zurah was angry,” Ma’zurah explained patiently, “But Ma’zurah is not angry at you. She will not hurt you, and she did not hurt your friend. He is only sleeping, and Ma’zurah knows how to wake him up.”

There was a gasp inside. “Morva! They can wake Dryston!”

“I don’t trust it,” said the other child.

“Me either, Petra. They’re up to something.”

“Why are none of the grown ups stopping them?” asked Tyran.

“That’s a good question,” said Morva. “Hey! Dummies! What’d you do with our parents?”

Ma’zurah hesitated. “They are not here anymore. That is why you need to come with us to Karthwasten. Ma’zurah cannot leave you here by yourselves.”

“What do you mean, they aren’t here?” cried Petra. “Mommy wouldn’t leave me!”

“It’s a trick, Petra, don’t listen to them,” said Morva. “As long as we are in here, we are safe.”

Ma’zurah sat down on the floor in front of the door. “You like Hircine, right? Would you like to hear about the time Ma’zurah met Hircine?”

“How would you have met Hircine?” scoffed Morva.

“I wanna hear,” said Tyran.

“It’s just gonna be a lie anyways.”

“It is all completely true. Ma’zurah was on the island of Solstheim with her friends Julan, Shani, Constance, and Jasmine, and she was visiting an Imperial fort when the fort was attacked by werewolves.”

“Who are all those people?” asked Petra.

“I think the grey one is Jasmine and the guy the lady was beating must be Shani. I don’t know about the other two though….” Tyran trailed off.

“That’s not right!” said Morva. “Jasmine is a girl’s name! The grey one must be Constance. That’s a good man’s name.”

“No,” Ma’zurah explained, “the Dunmer with Ma'zurah now is named Fayrl, and the other one is Logrolf. Julan and Shani are both Dunmer, a boy and a girl, Jasmine is a Redguard girl, and Constance is a Bosmer girl. But it does not really matter. So these werewolves attacked, but Ma’zurah did not know they were werewolves. When they ran away, Ma’zurah found out that the commander of the fort, General Carius, had disappeared. So Ma’zurah went to the Skaal village to ask them if they knew where he was. The Skaal are a tribe of Nords who worship a god called the All-Maker and live in a very snowy part of the island of Solstheim.”

“This story has too many people. It’s boring,” said Tyran. “I want a better story.”

“I thought the story was about Hircine,” said Petra, disappointed. “Let’s get back in bed, Tyran.”

“This story is about Hircine,” Ma'zurah explained hastily. “Werewolves are the children of Hircine, do you not know that? And it has so many people because the world has a lot of people in it. But Ma’zurah will get to Hircine soon. Ma’zurah found out that she had to prove herself to the Skaal, so she did a lot of things to help them. Then, after a while, werewolves attacked the Skaal village too and kidnapped the Skaal leader. One of the werewolves even bit Ma’zurah and everyone thought she was going to become a werewolf!”

“Did it eat you?!” cried Tyran with excitement.

“She couldn’t be telling the story if it ate her, dummy!” mocked Morva.

“No it did not eat Ma’zurah,” she laughed. “It also did not turn Ma’zurah into a werewolf.”

Ma'zurah realized this was a difficult story to tell to children because she had to simplify it so much. She felt rather lame leaving out so many details. It had been significantly more complicated than she was making it sound, but she was trying to cater to the children's brief attention span. “Ma’zurah tried to find out where all the werewolves were coming from, and while she was looking for them she found out that all of the horkers had been killed and were lying dead on the beach!”

“Eww!” said Petra.

“Cool!” said Morva and Tyran.

That was a much better reaction than Mazurah had expected. They were engaged with the story now at least. “The shaman was very worried about this because the dead horkers were one of the signs of the Bloodmoon Prophecy, which foretold coming of the great hunt of Hircine. The shaman sent Ma’zurah to a castle made of ice called Castle Karstaag. Castle Karstaag was full of Rieklings. Rieklings are small blue goblins who live in icy places. Ma’zurah had to swim in freezing water to get into the castle, but when she got there, she met a Riekling named Krish. Ma’zurah was very surprised, because she did not expect any Rieklings to talk to her. Krish told Ma’zurah that the Riekling leader, a frost giant named Karstaag, had disappeared, and that Krish was trying to take over the castle. He made a deal with Ma’zurah to let Ma’zurah into the castle if Ma’zurah would help Krish become the new leader. So Krish took Ma’zurah into the castle, and inside Ma’zurah found out from the other Rieklings that werewolves had kidnapped the Riekling leader, Karstaag.”

“Did the werewolves go like ‘Rawr!’ and eat the head off the reekly things?” asked Tyran.

“Why would a werewolf want to eat a ice goblin?” Petra retorted. “It’d be too cold to eat.”

Ma'zurah was losing their attention again. She huffed a frustrated breath. Why was she so bad at telling stories to children? “Ma’zurah did not see any werewolves in the ice castle,” she explained quickly. “She only heard what the Rieklings said. But Ma’zurah thought that it was very strange that werewolves would kidnap an ice giant, so she went to tell the Skaal shaman. That night, Ma’zurah got kidnapped by werewolves!”

“And then did they eat you?” asked Tyran.

“Gods, you’re so thick!” said Morva. “If you get eaten by a werewolf you don’t get to tell a story about it.”

“Unless you’re a ghost,” said Petra.

There was a tiny gasp from Tyran. “You’re a ghost lady!”

“I should throw you outside with the ghost lady,” said Morva.

Ma'zurah sighed. “Ma’zurah did not get eaten by werewolves, and she is not a ghost. When Ma’zurah woke up, she was in a room full of werewolves and a man with skin like the coat of a deer and a head like the skull of a stag told her he was Hircine and that Ma’zurah had been chosen as Prey for the Wild Hunt, and all the werewolves were going to hunt her now!”

“Coooooool!” said Tyran.

“Lucky,” muttered Morva.

“Not so lucky! Ma’zurah did not want to die!” It was one of the worst memories of her life, but she could hardly tell the children that. “Hircine did not give her a choice about it. The next thing she knew, she had been taken to a giant maze under the ice! And there she met General Carius, the Imperial commander who had disappeared! Hircine told Carius and Ma’zurah that there was a key out of the maze, and that only one person would be able to use it. Carius was a nice man though, and he said that maybe we could find a way for both of us to escape, so we worked together to run through the maze full of werewolves until we found the key and got to the center of the maze. General Carius got hurt though, so he told Ma’zurah to take the key and use it to get out of the maze. He thought Ma’zurah stood a better chance of surviving whatever Hircine was going to throw at us next.”

“How did you breathe under the ice?” asked Tyran.

“Just shut up and listen,” said Morva.

“It was a great big cave that had been carved into a glacier, that is how. But Ma’zurah used the key to open a portal, and the next thing she knew she was in a different maze, and there was the leader of the Skaal who had also been kidnapped. So Ma’zurah tried to team up with him too, but no matter how much we looked, we could not find the key. When we made it to the center of the maze, the Skaal leader turned on Ma’zurah, and Ma’zurah found out that he had the key the whole time, and he was actually a werewolf too!”

“Woah!” all three of the children cried.

“Did he--”

“I swear, if you ask if she was eaten one more time, I am throwing you outside,” warned Morva.

Tyran was silent.

“Ma’zurah fought him and took the key, and this time Ma’zurah found herself in a room with an ice giant! Hircine appeared and told Ma’zurah that the ice giant, Karstaag, was going to fight her for the right to enter the last part of the Wild Hunt! So Ma’zurah had to fight him to survive the Wild Hunt!”

There was silence for a moment.

“What? You said I couldn’t ask,” pouted Tyran.

“Good,” said Morva.

“So how did you fight a frost giant?” asked Petra.

“With fire, of course! Ma’zurah threw fire at it until it fell over, but it was very difficult.” It had been more than difficult. It had been a long and exhausting fight that Ma'zurah had only survived by flying to a high ledge to heal herself and wait for her magicka to regenerate. “After that, Hircine appeared again and asked Ma’zurah what skill she thought a hunter needed the most, strength, speed, or cunning. Which one would you have picked?”

“Strength!” said Tyran.

“Cunning,” said Morva.

“I think cunning too,” said Petra.

“Ma’zurah also picked cunning, and Hircine told Ma’zurah that the last part of the Wild Hunt was to defeat Hircine himself! But he said it would be unfair to fight him at his full power, so Ma’zurah had to fight one third of him; the third she had picked. So Hircine divided himself into three, and the Avatar of Hircine’s Cunning appeared and started to fight Ma’zurah!”

“What did it look like?” asked Petra.

“It looked like Hircine, just a little smaller. A man wearing kilt, with skin like a deer’s coat, and a head like the skull of a stag. He had a spear that he twirled around a lot. Ma’zurah had to be very smart to get out of range of his spear. She ran around the room and threw ice at him until she defeated him. Then she got to keep his spear.” She was hardly doing this story justice, but she did not want to tell the children just how harrowing the fight had been and how close to dying she had come. “Hircine was very shocked that Ma'zurah had won. He promised to come back and host another Wild Hunt, but he only gets to host one Wild Hunt per era.” Ma’zurah paused with a look of alarm on her face and glanced at Fayrl. It was a new era now.

Fayrl dropped the old boots he was holding in hand and met her eyes. That was not news he wanted to hear; not at all.

“Cool!” said Petra.

“Do you have the spear right now?” asked Tyran.

Deciding it was pointless to worry when there was nothing she could do. Ma'zurah shook her head. “No, but Ma’zurah does have the Ring of Azurah if you want to see that. Azurah appeared to Ma’zurah and gave it to her in person.”

“Can I see?” asked Fjotra.

“Yes, it is right here,” said Ma’zurah holding out her hand. She indicated the silver oval ring with a blue stone like the night sky at its center that she wore next to her wedding ring.

“Wow… It is so pretty!” gasped Fjotra. “Can I try it on?”

“Ma’zurah supposes that would be alright, but it likely will not fit. It was made for Ma’zurah. Give Ma’zurah your hand?”

Fjotra held out her hand obediently, and Ma’zurah slipped the ring onto the girl’s thumb. It was still too large, but Fjotra didn’t seem to care.

“It has an enchantment on it,” Ma’zurah told her. “Can you feel it? That is the power of Azurah.”

“Wow…” Fjotra stared at the ring with round eyes.

“I wanna see!” cried Tyran.

“Oh, me too!” said Petra.

“I don’t know. What if there is no ring?” said Morva.

“I wanna see the ring!” insisted Tyran, voice turning whiny.

“It’s too dangerous,” said Morva.

“I wanna!” Tyran cried again, then sniffled.

“Don’t cry, you baby,” said Morva.

“You’re so mean,” sobbed Tyran. “I wanna see it!”

“Fine!” shouted Morva, “Go see your stupid ring! And when you end up captured by the weird white lady and the grey man, don’t come begging for my help!”

Tyran broke into a full cry.

There was a loud screech as something large was dragged across the floor.

The door opened just enough for the small, tearful face of Tyran to appear around the door. “I wanna see it,” he moaned, squirming to get out of the door.

Fjotra stood up and held out her thumb in front of the door, displaying the ring.

“It’s real!” he cried and scrambled forward, tripping over his own feet for a moment, but momentum kept him moving and he caught his balance, grabbing at Fjorta’s hand to look at the ring.

Petra’s head appeared around the edge of the door then popped back in. “They aren’t doing anything yet,” she whispered, still audible enough for Fayrl and Ma’zurah to hear.

“Can I wear it?” asked Tyran, his tears stopped, but a trail of snot coming from one side of his face. He wiped it on his sleeve.

“Yes,” Ma'zurah replied. “Fjotra do you want to help him try it on?”

Fjotra beamed at being given responsibility. “Hold out your hand!” she said, taking the ring off.

Tyran held out his hand, using his other hand to keep it steady. The rest of his body bouncing with excitement. “Like this?”

“Tyran’s getting to try it on,” said Petra. “Morva, can I try it too?”

“If you go out there, I’m not responsible for what happens. I can’t protect you. If you want to turn your back on Dryston and me, go ahead! But he’s like this because of her ! He protected us.”

“They don’t seem so bad,” said Petra.

“Go, then! Get out!”

Petra fell forward out of the door as though she were pushed and the door shut behind her.

Fjotra solemnly helped Tyran try on the ring. “You feel the enchantment?” she asked. “Like you can see everything more clearly, and your tiredness is slowly going away?”

“Woah! I’m like a warrior hero now!” Tyran made slashing and chopping motions with both hands. “Smash! Hack!”

Petra got to her feet and dusted herself off before looking at Ma’zurah, Fjotra, and Fayrl. She didn’t say anything, just watching them while Tyran slashed at the air, lost in his imagination.

Ma’zurah smiled at Petra. Fjotra giggled at Tyran’s antics.

Petra took a tentative step forward, eyeing Ma’zurah.

Fayrl was starting to get anxious. He didn’t know why. Everything was going fine. And yet he couldn’t help but feel nervous. Was something going to happen?

“This ring is amazing!” giggled Tyran. “I bet I could defeat an ice monster right now if one came at me!”

“Would you like to give her a turn?” Ma’zurah gestured at Petra. “I bet she would like to feel like a warrior too.”

Tyran held the ring close to his chest. “But I just got it!”

Petra took a couple more steps away from the door.

Fayrl stood up and Petra backed up against the door. “I’m going to go and check on the horse,” Fayrl said, and headed down the stairs.

Ma’zurah reached into her pack and pulled out a honey nut ball. “Ma’zurah will trade,” she offered Tyran.

He came over at once and extended his hand. “Deal!”

Ma’zurah took the ring and gave the boy the honey nut ball, then she turned to Petra. “You wanted a turn?”

She nodded and cautiously stepped forward, her hand out.

Tyran took his treat and started running around the entrance hall chewing on it and dancing, apparently oblivious to the remains of the bloody ritual in the center of the room. “I got a sweets and no one else can have it!” he taunted in a mocking melody.

Ma’zurah gently took the girl’s hand and slipped the ring on her finger. “Does the world seem brighter? That is the power of Azurah.”

Petra’s eyes widened and she looked around the room as if she did not know where she was. “This is Azra? This power?”

Tyran picked up a rock from the floor. “You think you can have some of my sweets. But you can’t!” he yelled at the rock, then threw it at the wall.

“Azurah made the ring. She put a piece of her power in it to make the enchantment.” Ma’zurah smiled at the girl.

Petra scrutinized the ring. “It just looks like a pretty stone. How did the power get inside?”

Tyran continued to pick up discarded items from the ground and scream at them about how they could not have his honey nut treat.

“Ma’zurah does not know how Princes do it, but when Ma’zurah does enchanting she uses a soul gem. Now. Would you like a honey nut ball too?”

Petra smiled. “I can have one too?”

In his circuit around the room, Tyran finally came across the priest stuck to the wall with spiderwebs. “I bet your want some of my sweets too!” He stood as tall as he could and pulled the gag from Logrolf’s mouth. “Ew, that’s gross! Don’t eat clothes Mr. Sillybeard.”

“Listen here you little shit,” spat the priest, “I am an illustrious priest of the great Queen of Deception, Boethiah! I demand you free me from my bonds at once! Or else I will curse you and every one of your little friends!”

Tyran frowned. “You’re a big poop! I was gonna share, but you’re mean.” He picked up a rock and shoved it in Logrolf’s mouth to replace the tunic.

Logrolf spat the rock out in Tyran’s direction. “I am going to make you pay!”

“Hey! Leave my brother alone!” yelled Petra.

The priest laughed. “If you don’t free me I will make sure that you never see your parents again.”

“No!” shouted Tyran.

The door to the room opened and Morva rushed out, a crude bone dagger in hand. “Leave them alone!” she yelled, facing Ma’zurah.

“Another idiot child of the inbred savages,” Logrolf taunted. “What a delightful sample of the Reach’s quality.”

Morva turned to the priest, realizing that it was not Fayrl or Ma'zurah who had threatened the other children. She had the knife up and her body tensed as if deciding to attack.

Ma’zurah sighed. “It is alright. You are not in any danger. Any of you. Logrolf the Idiot is tied up. He cannot hurt you. He is just very rude.”

Petra started laughing. “That’s why you were sitting on him and hitting his face!”

Morva lowered her weapon. “He is tied up?”

“I am! Now free me child! If you do I will give you a grand reward.”

“What kind of reward?” asked Tyran.

“To become an apprentice to the great Logrolf the Willful and serve the Lord Boethiah in all her needs.”

Petra and Tyran both frowned.

“That’s stupid,” said Morva. “I don’t want to serve some stupid god who makes people like you.” She stepped closer to Ma’zurah.

“It is not stupid! It is a great honor!” cried Logrolf. “You ignorant barbarians could not even comprehend what you are declining!”

Petra picked back up the tunic and hurriedly shoved it in Logrolf’s mouth. Tyran ran up after her and shoved it further in. The man struggled again and screamed behind his gag, though nothing he tried to say was intelligible.

Fjotra tugged on Ma’zurah’s sleeve. “Can I have a honey nut treat too?”

“Alright.” Ma’zurah retrieved one, then held out another to Morva. “Fair is fair.”

“I can see why you have him tied up,” Morva commented, accepting the treat.

Ma’zurah nodded. “He is very disrespectful.” She moved to peek into the room the children had been in. The boy was still asleep on the bed, but the rest of the furniture had been rearranged. She turned and walked down the steps into the entrance hall and looked out the front door. Fayrl was nowhere to be seen.

“Where are you going?” asked Morva as she saw Ma’zurah disappear down the steps.

Ma'zurah leaned out the front door to pat the horse and spotted the bodies lying in the road. She cursed under her breath.

“Trying to find Fayrl,” she explained.

The children sat at the top of the stairs watching and waiting. Tyran licked sugar off his fingers.

Ma'zurah closed the front door and turned around, noticing the door on the right side of the entrance hall slightly ajar. She peered inside.

The bodies of the Forsworn still rested where Ma'zurah had last seen them. The man Fayrl had injured lay sprawled across the floor at the side of the bed in a pool of blood, obviously dead. Fayrl stood in the center of the room redoing his hair.

“Hey,” Ma'zurah said to catch Fayrl’s attention. “Ma'zurah needs Fayrl to clear off the road and then come let Ma'zurah know when he is done.”

Fayrl turned around, tucking the last pin into his hair. “Very well. I will gladly go and take care of that, my dear.”

Ma'zurah nodded and walked back up the steps into the hallway and entered the children's room. The children came running after her.

“You can wake him up, right?” asked Petra, standing nervously next to the unconscious boy.

“Yes, but we have to take him to Karthwasten.” Ma'zurah started opening chests and nightstands until she located a set of packs. “Okay, help Ma'zurah pack your clothing. First one done gets another honey nut ball. Somebody show Ma’zurah where that one’s clothing is.” She gestured at the unconscious boy.

“They’re over here!” cried Tyran, tugging Ma’zurah’s sleeve towards a set of drawers.

“But his spare tunics are in here,” said Petra, pulling on Ma’zurah’s other sleeve.

Fjotra sat on an empty bed, blinking at the other children stuffing their meager belongings into packs. In a few minutes she was fast asleep.

When they finished, Ma'zurah scanned the room for anything else they might want, and tucked a lost rag doll into Petra’s pack. “Are you ready? It is not a long walk. It should only take an hour or two to get to Karthwasten.”

Petra nodded, slipping the pack onto her back.

Tyran put his bag on his head, trying to balance it. “Wooooaaah!” he said as it fell to one side. He caught it and put it back on his head.

Morva stood beside Ma’zurah with a wary expression on her face. “We’re ready. But I don’t understand. Where are our parents? Why won’t Dryston wake up? Why are you two here?”

Ma'zurah lifted her eyebrows at the teenager. “That is a lot of questions, and they all have long answers. Ma'zurah thinks she is getting a bit too hungry to answer so many questions at once. There will be hot meals at Karthwasten. If you ask Ma'zurah again after we have eaten, she promises she will answer them all. It is not too far to go or too long to wait, but it is only midday and Ma'zurah is already tired. Is that fair?” She gave a small smile and cast telekinesis on Dryston, lifting him gently.

Petra and Tyran watched their friend floating with wide-eyed fascination. Tyran waved his hand underneath and, upon finding nothing, walked under Dryston. “Magic!”

Morva tightened her grip on her pack straps at her shoulders. “What if our parents come back and we aren’t here? They’ll be worried.”

Petra looked worried at this prospect. “I… I don’t want mommy to think I’ve run off….”

“It will be alright. They will not worry. If you are still afraid, Ma'zurah will try to use magic to contact them once we get to Karthwasten. Ma'zurah is a Mystic. She knows a few rituals.” Ma'zurah stuck her head out of the children’s room, keeping an eye out for Fayrl.

“But where are they?” Morva insisted. “They put us to bed after we stayed up most of the night waiting for them, and then where did they go? They wouldn't leave us behind.” Tears of frustration and fear welled in her eyes.

Ma’zurah set the boy back down on the bed and knelt in front of Morva. “Ma’zurah does not know. She is sorry. Ma’zurah will try to contact them for you. She does not think she can do it here though. It is not a far trip. It will be alright. Ma’zurah will make sure that no harm comes to you if she can do anything to stop it.”

Morva looked like she was warring with herself. After a moment she sighed. “And you can wake Dryston? You're positive?”

“Yes.” Ma’zurah gave a firm nod.

“Then I will go.” Morva stood and Petra took her hand. “We are ready.”

“Alright, one second. Let Ma’zurah find Fayrl and see if he is ready too.” She walked into the hallway, closing the door behind her, and went to the front door. She spotted Fayrl hiding the last body behind a large juniper bush, and called out to him. “They are ready. Ma’zurah will bring them out.”

Fayrl nodded. “Go ahead. I'm ready.” He walked back to his lute and began playing a pleasant song.

“Alright. When Ma’zurah brings the boy out, make sure he will not wake soon, please.”

She went back inside and roused Fjotra from where she had been dozing. She smiled at the children, cast telekinesis again on Dryston, and led them outside. “Fayrl has his lute out, do you like songs?”

“I like music,” said Petra. “Daddy sings a song about a spotted stag who plays with wolves.”

“His song about the bear is better,” said Tyran, his pack on his head again, though he kept one hand on it so it wouldn't fall.

Petra snorted “You just like it cause the bear eats everything.”

“That's the best part!” said Tyran.

Morva walked in silence, clearly deep in thought.

Fayrl turned to the children with a goofy smile. “Look at this band of adventurers! Why we have four mighty warriors here! I shall be your bard and Ma’zurah your wizard as we hike on our way towards adventure. Let us hurry to the castle so we can wake the sleeping prince. Come, wizard, let us set our prince upon his steed!” Fayrl helped to guide the sleeping boy onto the horse’s back, stroking the horse to keep it from spooking. “Fjotra, I know you are good with horses, why don't you take the reins and I shall play a tune to keep away evil spirits.”

Ma’zurah gave Fayrl an amused smile, and the small group set off down the road to Karthwasten.

End Notes:

Ta'agra Translations: http://www.taagra.com/ wafiit = idiot jekosiit = sheep shagger

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.

[mazurah]

Lost in Time Ch. 19: Netches - An Elder Scrolls Fanfic

Chapter Summary: Ma'zurah tells Fayrl a funny and relevant story to distract him from what they have just escaped.

Cross posted from Ao3. Chapter Rating: G for general audiences.

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Lost in Time Chapter 19: Netches

Fayrl could not be out of Molag Bal’s house soon enough. Finding the front door unlocked, he pushed out into the street, breathing in large gulps of air. It felt a relief. After a few breaths his knees quivered and buckled.

“Whoa!” Ma’zurah knelt in the street in front of Fayrl and put her hands on his shoulders. “It is okay! We are out now! The gods heard us and answered.” She peered into his face in concern.

Fayrl gave her a haphazard smile. “Guess I got a bit cramped up in that place.”

He tried to rise back up, but his knees still would not hold his weight. “Guess I need a minute,” he laughed.

Ma’zurah nodded, and leaned forward to give him a hug. “Ma’zurah takes it Fayrl has never met any Daedric Princes other than the Three before.”

He laughed again. “Not even once. Truth be told, of the Three, only one has ever spoken to me. But that’s different; I was chosen there. This time… a different story indeed.”

Fayrl appreciated Ma’zurah’s concern for him, but he did not understand it. He was perfectly fine, other than his knees not cooperating.

Still, her arms around him did feel pretty nice. And soothing.

Ma’zurah pulled back and gave Fayrl a wry smile. “You are doing very well then. Ma’zurah has spoken to several Princes before. She will have to tell Fayrl about the time she nearly pissed off Sheggorath…”

“By the Three, you didn’t!” He could hardly believe what he was hearing. He had already surmised her greater experience in these matters, but this would be far beyond what he had ever assumed. “I would love to hear of it!”

“Oh yes! He was the first Prince Ma’zurah ever met other than Azurah. It took Julan a long time to calm Ma’zurah down afterwards. She had already angered him before he spoke to her, so it was very scary.”

Ma’zurah stood and walked back through the open doorway of the house just enough to grab their fallen packs and search the dead Vigilant’s pockets. She found a sizable coinpurse and a key, as well as an amulet and several potions, all of which she took. She hooked the man’s steel mace to her belt and stepped out of the house again, locking the door behind her. She offered Fayrl a hand up, and gave him his pack. “Come on, we can talk on the way out of the city. Ma’zurah does not want to stay here any longer.”

Fayrl nodded, not sorry to see the end of Markarth for a little while. He loved the city, but too much had happened. Even if he could divorce himself from the most recent incident, he had a bit of a history here. He forced himself back to his feet, even as his legs trembled, making him sway as he stood.

“Alright,” Ma’zurah began, “the whole thing started when Ma’zurah made a pilgrimage to the Shrine of Azurah on Vvardenfell with Julan. Julan wanted to pray to Azurah himself, because his mother had not been receiving any visions giving him directions. Turns out she had never received any visions, but that is a different story.”

Ma’zurah wrapped an arm around Fayrl’s waist to steady him and began walking. “Anyway, we got to the shrine and began praying to Azurah, and suddenly she spoke to Ma’zurah. Just Ma’zurah--Julan was not happy about that. But Azurah told Ma’zurah that Sheggorath was cheating on a bet she had with him, and she wanted Ma’zurah to stop him.”

Fayrl’s head was spinning, and not just because he was feeling a bit weak right now. Helping in bets with gods? Was there any great deed which Ma’zurah had not come to be involved in? “You don’t say!”

He was also more and more fascinated by this Julan fellow. He seemed to be the closest to Ma’zurah. At least, his name continued to come up again and again.

“Yes, well apparently, Sheggorath argued that solitude causes madness, and Azurah argued that solitude is good because it allows for solace and meditation. So to solve the argument, Azurah bet Sheggorath that one of her priestesses could live for a hundred years by herself in a life of prayer and meditation without going mad.

“Azurah had almost won the bet, and Sheggorath decided to cheat and send his Daedra to bother the priestess. Azurah told Ma’zurah to kill the Daedra and bring back proof. So Ma’zurah went all the way back to Balmora to get Jasmine and Constance, and then all the way to the middle of the Sheogorad region and killed a whole bunch of Daedra outside the priestess’ cabin, including one very tough Aureal--er, golden saint--who it turned out was actually the commander of his Aureal guard. And possibly his daughter. Ma’zurah was never clear about that.”

Fayrl listened with rapt attention. He had so many questions to ask her once the story was over. He wanted to know all about her partners. How many were there? And also how she came to have them all in such a wonderful agreement.

“So I take it you helped Azura to succeed in her task?” he asked, leaning in close to her ear to speak. He was still feeling the after effects of his orgasm and he was curious if he could figure out what had happened with her back in the house. Had she really made those sounds? Or had he merely imagined it from what he might have wanted to come to pass.

“Yes. Staada--the Aureal--had the signet ring of Sheggorath on her, and Ma’zurah took it back to Azurah’s shrine and showed it to Azurah. And then Azurah gave Ma’zurah her Star and made her Azurah’s Champion, and also said she could keep the signet ring. See?”

She removed her necklace and withdrew one large, rectangular shaped ring that seemed to be carved out of wood. The ring had three faces carved into it, side by side, all very similar, but subtly different--the Faces of Madness: Hysteria, Rage, and Ecstasy. Sheogorath’s most well known icon. She showed the ring to Fayrl.

Fayrl looked on in awe. Ma’zurah was so remarkable. What had it been that had drawn the Webspinner to align their paths? Was it not something planned or significant?

“Did that spark his ire at all?” Fayrl asked. “Surely he was not pleased that you foiled his plans.”

“Well no. He was not happy. A couple weeks later, Ma’zurah was exploring the underworks of Vivec city looking for someone, and came across a shrine to Sheggorath with this huge statue of Sheggorath in it. She did not think anything of it at first, because she has seen many similar statues in Daedric ruins, but this time Sheggorath spoke to Ma’zurah. He said he was very angry at Ma’zurah for interfering, and he sent Staada and about four other Aureals to the shrine, and Ma’zurah had to fight her again. Sheggorath’s accent is probably the weirdest accent Ma’zurah has ever heard, by the way, and also, did you know there are male Aureals?”

Fayrl listened. The tale was so fantastical, he wondered how it might adapt into a song. He could certainly write one for her. And considering all the things she had done, he rather thought she was overdue for at least one song of her heroism.

“I’ve never encountered any golden saints. Glad to know there are males too.”

“Anyway, so Ma’zurah won with her companions’ help, which apparently pleased Sheggorath for some reason, and he said he would give Ma’zurah a chance to redeem herself, and sent Ma’zurah to find something he called the Fork of Horripilation.”

Fayrl’s eyebrows knit. “Wait, a fork?” With horror he began to surmise just what it might have been that he had stumbled upon.

“Ma’zurah knows what you are thinking. Yes, that fork. Sheggorath told Ma’zurah that an insane hermit Argonian by the name of Big Head had the fork, and that Ma’zurah should take the fork and use it to kill a giant bull netch near Big Head’s cabin. So Ma’zurah got her companions and travelled all the way back to the Sheogorad region, again , and did a lot of searching and asking around to find Big Head.

“Well, once Ma’zurah found him, she discovered that he was a total sweetheart who had stacks of furniture around his cabin, spoke only in poetry, and believed that the fork sang to him! And maybe it did. Who knows. Ma’zurah asked to borrow it, and he let her. So Ma’zurah took the fork, and then realized that she could not access her magicka at all while holding the damn thing! But she did not want Sheggorath to be angry at her, so she went searching for the giant bull netch.”

Fayrl did not wish to interrupt the story, he was very interested in how it continued. Yet he was confused that for her the Fork blocked magic, yet for him it teleported him to the Shivering Isles. He made a mental note to ask her about it when she finished her story if it did not come up before that.

“Now, Ma’zurah does not know if Fayrl has ever tried to fight a bull netch with a fork before, but it is a lot harder than it sounds, and it already sounds hard enough. First though, when Ma’zurah found the bull netch, she discovered that it was at least twice the size of normal bull netches, which meant that not only was it a lot tougher, but it was a lot higher off the ground as well. It had to have been at least thirty feet long and fifty feet tall, counting the tentacles. So Ma’zurah was not sure how exactly to reach the thing in the first place without levitating. Julan had not quite reached the level of Alteration mastery required to cast levitation on another person, and we were out of potions of levitation.”

Now this was definitely sounding like a good tavern song. Why, Fayrl could write an entire song about fighting a giant bull netch with a fork. He’d leave her race out of it, no need to add anything that could come out negative with the bigots. Still, the idea of a legendary hero fighting a netch with a fork was sure to be a hit. Should he cast the hero as the Nerevarine? Or perhaps Nerevar himself? He needed to hear more to make such a decision.

“After a lot of arguing, we realized that Ma’zurah could cast magic when she was not holding the fork, and then everybody felt stupid about arguing. So Ma’zurah cast the strongest levitation spell she could on herself, which, at the time, lasted for about two minutes, and then picked the fork back up.

“Ma’zurah was not sure whether Sheggorath wanted Ma’zurah to kill the giant bull netch with nothing but the fork, or merely to strike the death blow with the fork, but she was not going to risk it. So she had to come up with a way to kill the bull netch in less than two minutes with an iron fork, or try to juggle the fork between her companions and re-cast the spell with an angry giant bull netch chasing her. Ma’zurah thinks you can probably see the problems with this idea. Have you been around netches very much?”

Fayrl laughed. “Yes, I have. There are many in both Stonefalls, where I often traveled to visit my uncle, and the area around my home in Mournhold. Deshaan has them far greater in number than they are in most of Vvardenfell.”

Fayrl was trying to picture in his mind, Ma’zurah floating up to a giant bull netch with a fork in her hand trying to stab it into the beast. It was rather amusing, though he tried to keep his entertainment to a minimal so she would proceed.

“Well, Ma'zurah had not been around netches very much at the time, and she had no idea what the best way to kill a netch even was, much less a giant netch! So Ma'zurah floated up under the thing and stabbed it as hard as she could with the fork! Apparently Ma'zurah hit a weak spot in the skin of the vapor sack, and so she punctured it enough that her entire arm went in!

“That is the point at which Ma'zurah discovered where netch jelly comes from. She had not known before that netch vapor sacks were lined with jelly, but she found that out very quickly when her whole arm became coated in the stuff. Of course, she pulled her arm back immediately, which just released the vapor holding the whole thing afloat, and that is when things really started getting crazy!”

“Hah!” Fayrl put a hand over his mouth to hold back the raucous laughter that threatened to spill out. He could only picture too well how this scene was playing out. He’d had to fight a giant netch or two in his day. Though, never with a fork. The House of Troubles well earned their name. “Sorry, please go on!”

Ma'zurah cast an amused look at Fayrl. “Well, four separate things started happening at once at that point. First, the netch got really, really angry, and tried to attack Ma’zurah with its tentacles. Second, the netch started falling as the vapor got released. Falling on top of Ma’zurah. Third, have you ever heard that the contents of the vapor sack of every netch can have unique properties? Something about the tiny animals that are too small to see, even with most magnification spells, that live inside the sealed environment and cause it to glow and produce the jelly. The mix of animals is apparently different for every netch, so they are all unique. Well, the third thing that happened is that Ma’zurah started to hallucinate because she breathed the vapor and got the netch jelly on her arm. And fourth, Ma’zurah’s hand--and the fork--got stuck .”

Finally Fayrl couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer. “Oh gods!” he gasped. “You’re definitely not supposed to get anywhere near the vapor! It’s toxic as well as hallucinogenic! I cannot imagine what you may have seen after all of that!”

“Oh yes! But Ma’zurah did not find that out until afterwards!”

Ma’zurah started really getting into the story, and gestured wildly with the arm not occupied around Fayrl’s waist. “So there Ma’zurah was, floating almost fifty feet in the air, unable to access her magicka, with her hand clutching a fork as her only weapon, which was stuck inside the vapor sack of a very large, very angry bull netch! On top of that, Ma’zurah started seeing more netches out of the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t quite catch sight of them when she turned her head though. Her companions were yelling from the ground, and Ma’zurah could not tell what they were saying, so she thought they were trying to warn her that a herd of netches had moved in and was defending the giant bull netch. So Ma’zurah did the only thing she could think of. She braced one foot against the side of the bull netch and pulled until her hand and the fork came free.

“Of course this just sent Ma’zurah flying in the wrong direction. At that point she was convinced she was surrounded by a herd of netches on all sides except the front, so she started dodging in midair to avoid attacks she kept thinking she saw out of the corners of her eyes. This probably looked very strange from the ground, and Ma’zurah’s companions just kept yelling. Ma’zurah made it back to the giant bull netch just in time for her levitation spell to start wearing off. Ma’zurah was not thinking the most clearly at that point, so instead of making her way to the ground and tossing the fork to somebody else, she latched onto the netch with her claws and started trying to climb onto its back!”

By this point Fayrl could hardly walk he was laughing so hard. His body trembled, and tears of mirth were forming in his eyes. “Truly? You just…” he had to stop a moment to laugh and catch his breath, “--you tossed the fork? And started wrangling the netch?”

This was crazier than that time that he and Ervis had taken a drunken ride back to Balmora by silt strider and Ervis had ended up pushing the driver into Ervis’ seat, stolen his hat, and insisted that the mer had been trying to steal his wife!

“Oh no! Ma’zurah put the fork between her teeth like a Topal bay pirate, netch jelly and all!” Ma’zurah bared her teeth at Fayrl in a playful grimace.

“Of course, the netch was sinking that whole time, so by the time Ma’zurah fought off the tentacles with nothing but her claws and Sheggorath’s fork, and actually made it to the top of the netch, it had sunk completely to the ground. Then Ma’zurah’s companions rushed over and tried to pull her off the top of the netch, but Ma’zurah was hallucinating so much that she thought that everything that moved was a netch! So Ma’zurah tried to fight them off as well--with the fork! And they were fighting off the giant bull netch tentacles and yelling at Ma’zurah to stop taking swings at them, and Julan was swearing and calling Ma’zurah a little s’wit, but he finally got hold of Ma’zurah’s wrists and dragged her a distance away and poured a cure poison potion down her throat.

“Meanwhile, the netch was rolling around on the ground, tentacles flailing, and Constance and Jasmine were trying to hold the thing off long enough for Julan to cure Ma’zurah so she did not start throwing up in the middle of the fight. Ma’zurah finally realized that Julan was not a netch, and ran back toward the giant netch, yelling and wielding the fork most expertly! She stabbed it until the tentacles stopped trying to grab her, and just kind of lay there, twitching. Julan came up at that point and showed Ma’zurah how to pry open the carapace of the tail enough to get to the brains, and Ma’zurah then stabbed those until she was sure that the thing was dead. Then she had a very long nap and a very thorough bath, and returned the fork back to Big Head. And that is the story of how Ma’zurah nearly pissed off Sheggorath!” Ma’zurah gave a half bow, accompanied by a ridiculous, one-armed genuflection.

Fayrl wiped the tears from where they had begun to fall to his cheeks. “I can only imagine how pleased the God of Madness would be by such an affair. It is lucky you did not harm any of your companions in that state. And also that your Julan had the foresight to cure you of poison so soon.”

Ma’zurah cracked a grin. “Well… to be fair, Julan is Velothi, so he knows about netches. Ma’zurah should probably have asked him more about netches before she flew up to it and stabbed it in the vapor sack. That’s probably what he was yelling about while Ma’zurah was dodging invisible netches in midair.”

“Anyway, when Ma’zurah returned to the shrine of Sheggorath to report her success, he was so amused by it all that he let Ma’zurah keep his signet as well, as a token that Ma’zurah has free passage within the Shivering Isles whenever she wants. At the time she did not even know how to get to the Shivering Isles, but it turned out to be very useful later.”

Fayrl thought for a moment. “It is very lucky for me that you went through such an ordeal, else I might have been stranded in the Shivering Isles forever.” He shuddered, chilled by the thought.

Ma’zurah frowned. “Ma’zurah is not sure, but she thinks perhaps Fayrl would not have ended up in the Shivering Isles if Ma’zurah had not been there. It is too much of a coincidence to be an accident. Ma’zurah has to believe it was intervention of some kind…” She squeezed Fayrl gently.

Fayrl fiddled with a strand of hair that had come free from it’s tie. He realized belatedly that it was not as tight as it should be and probably looked an unsightly mess. “But why is it that we are connected like this? What do we have in common that might have caused this? The only connection we have is our worship of the True Tribunal and the fact that you are my reincarnated ancestor. Or perhaps that we have both been given direct missions from Almalexia.” She had mentioned that Almalexia had commanded her to reforge Nerevar’s wedding sword, Trueflame, Fayrl recalled. It was a flimsy connection at best.

“Reincarnated ancestor?” Ma’zurah barked a sudden laugh. “You know I never had children, right? Neither did Ayem. And despite her stolen divinity, she only had godlike powers , but never enough divinity to truly alter the course of fate. Only Vehk actually achieved that.”

Fayrl looked at Ma’zurah dumbly. “What? What are you talking about, Ma’zurah?”

Something was off. The way her hand gripped his waist felt different and there was a cadence to her voice that was not typical for her. And her words… those were not right. He felt instantly uncomfortable being so close to her.

Had she somehow had some aspect of Sheogorath rub off on her? She had spent a lot of time in Oblivion from the sound of it. How recently had the netch incident been? Those toxins were known to have all sorts of terribly long-lasting effects. He felt guilty for having laughed at her story, just in case that was the cause of this.

Ma’zurah’s face held a bemused and troubled expression. “Has my House really thought I was their direct ancestor all these centuries? I mean, I married into it from House Mora, for Boethiah’s sake!” Solid gold eyes met Fayrl’s red ones, not unkindly.

Fayrl was mesmerized by the golden eyes. They were not the eyes of Ma’zurah. And yet, he could not accept that he could possibly be walking down a Markarth street, two eras after his own time, with Indoril fetching Nerevar holding him around the waist.

“Who are you?” he breathed, his body still moving, though only automatically.

Ma’zurah looked amused. “You know this one’s name, you’ve heard it in full at least twice now.” She gave a pensive look and ran her free hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, that was silly of me. I’m not even sure why it bothers me. I guess I’m not used to the idea of being an ancestor, never even having had children. To answer your question, no it likely had nothing to do with my Tribunal. Even Vehk never pulled something of this magnitude. He’s not exactly a serious person. It was never his style, and this seems to have more gravity than I would expect of him.”

Fayrl was having difficulty in reconciling the fact that there was a saint holding him so close and intimately. He felt somehow as though he was overstepping his place to be there--to be spoken to so casually. He tried to formulate something intelligent to say, but found nothing left his mouth.

Gold eyes subtly shifted as Fayrl watched to an odd blend of gold and blue that looked more like hazel green with blue and golden flecks. “No, this one thinks it has the smell of prophecy, and would not be surprised to find one involved again. The Lady almost directly confirmed that it was not the True Tribunal--or not just them at least. Still, this one is glad you are here nonetheless.”

As Fayrl watched her eyes flick back to their usual blue color, Fayrl could almost convince himself that he had simply hallucinated the entire thing. Ma’zurah gave him a self deprecating smile and squeezed him again.

The squeeze startled him and he nearly jumped, his body jerking in her arms. He was instantly embarrassed.

The pair’s slow walk had finally reached the front entrance of the city, and a pair of guards stopped them at the gate.

“Hold!” said one, stepping forward, and leveling a faceless, masked gaze at Ma’zurah. “How did you get in here? Cats aren’t allowed in the city.”

Fayrl came out of his stupor at the words. That sort of insult always struck something of a nerve with him. He crossed his arms and took a step forward. “She’s with me. My wife. We walked in last night without anyone stopping us. I was informed that there would be no problem when I asked.” His voice was cold.

“Well obviously there has been some mistake. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” The guard motioned toward the gate.

“It is fine.” Ma'zurah said tiredly. “We were just leaving anyway.”

As they passed the guards, Fayrl tripped over a cobblestone and fell over into the arms of the guard closest to him. He whispered something into the guard’s ear, then straightened. “My apologies, sera.”

The guard turned to the other guard. “You’ve been sleeping with my wife, Yngar?!”

“What? No, Fjoki! You know I’d never--” The punch was thrown without waiting for the end of the response.

Fayrl took Ma’zurah’s arm and led her out the gate.

Ma'zurah allowed herself to be led out the gate, looking back over her shoulder in bemusement. “What did Fayrl do?” she whispered when they had moved a short distance away.

“I merely thought that if they were so eager for a fight, why not make it fair and fight one another? The guard seemed only too keen. Nords, do love a good brawl, don’t they? Some things really don’t ever change.”

Ma'zurah snorted and put her arm around Fayrl again.

End Notes:

Netches! Netches! All Around! They're born up high, And never come down.

Netches! Netches! All Around! Bulls and Betties Some blue, some brown.

Netches! Netches! All Around! Their tentacles hang Like a dressing gown.

Netches! Netches! All Around! They sneak up on you without a sound.

Netches! Netches! All Around! You cannot hide, You will be found.

Fayrl’s tumblr: @talldarkandroguesome

Screenshot of Fayrl Screenshot of Ma’zurah Check out my art tag for more pictures of Fayrl and Ma’zurah.

Constructive criticism is welcome. We also really like it if you leave comments on Ao3.