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henryobsessed · 4 years

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The Widow and The Witcher Chapter 11

Summery: Geralt goes to fight the Bruxa and Julia is bonding with Ciri

Word Count: 2500

Warning: Fight Scene, Supernatural event

A/N This is my first fight scene so if this is your thing would love some pointers :)

Chapter 11

It had taken a full morning to gather his items from the merchants, and the Villager had met Geralt in the marketplace at noon. After eating a quick meal, they set off. It was a quiet Journey, the Villager whose name was Nial only spoke when necessary which suited Geralt's mood. That night they bedded down at a tavern in the next town. Geralt didn't sleep well, instead, his mind kept running through his plan of attack. The Bruxa had uncanny speed and invisibility so he would need the element of surprise, to catch it in the act of enticing someone. He would only have one chance, once it knew he was there he would have to act fast. Hopefully, striking it with his silver sword and if not then last resort allowing it to bite him which was not an option he wished to pursue.

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The day Geralt had left, Julia thankfully had no clients. During the morning Ciri and Julia had distracted themselves in the kitchen with Nessie learning how to bake Nessie's famous chocolate chip cookies. That afternoon Ciri stood in front of a Tobias and 10 other men, she held her sword and instructed them in the art of defensive sword techniques. "Remember to block your opponent, then think strategically don't just act out of anger." Dividing them into pairs they then began to practice her sword movements. Geralt had left instructions for Ciri to teach Tobias and any servants from the estate who wished to learn so there would be more than one prepared to fight.

While they practised Renee and Julia walked in the gardens picking flowers to brighten the bedrooms and the dining hall. As Julia was admiring the vivid colours of the roses, Renee settled her basket next to hers "Julia, I have to tell you something." Julia turned regarding Renee, her young friend seemed to be bursting at the seams with a joy that seemed to radiate from her being. Renee placed her hands on her belly and just smiled at Julia nodding. Pulling Renee into a hug she squeezed her friend, who she now considered as a daughter. Smiling she said "oh Renee, that is so exciting. How long have you known?" blushing Renee said, "I think this is a honeymoon baby"

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The following two days Geralt and Nial travelled at a steady pace arriving at his Village late on the third day. The weary travellers were greeted by Nial's wife Anna along with their youngest daughter. Anna led them into the small cottage. They were not poor, but it was a modest home with a single area that served as a living and eating area, as well as the kitchen. Off to the right of this room were two doors leading to the bedrooms one for the parents and one for the children. They shared a simple meal together of steamed vegetables. Together they sat on cushions on the floor around a small low table which held the steaming bowls of food and their cups of water.

Even though they had a terrible loss, there was a palpable love that was shared between them. It was made evident by a look, a gentle touch, and words of praise as Nial said "Anna, this is a beautiful meal. I have missed your cooking while we have been apart." Once the meal was finished Nial's daughter curled up in her father's lap a peace falling over the child's face as the adults talked. Nial making sure his daughter safely tucked in his arms was sleeping directed a more pointed conversation to Geralt "How are you going to catch and kill this monster. What will be your needs to accomplish this?"

Geralt looked to both Nial and Anna expecting to see anger, revenge on their faces but instead saw only sadness. Anna had moved to lean into Nial at this point and the family unit made Geralt's arms ache for Julia and Ciri. Lowering his head he looked at his hands, unsure of how to answer Nial's question. Looking back up to the grieving family he spoke "I will need to be diligent to keep watch to see if any more young men are enticed away from the village. Once I see that I will be able to follow and dispatch the Bruxa. They are cunning and unless they feel safe will not venture near again. I will sleep in this room as the window faces the forest. I should be able to see from this vantage point."

At this the small group fell silent, the weight of what was ahead for the Witcher weighed heavily on his mind. The small family also sensed this and quietly went about setting up for bed. Geralt watched as Nial stood his sleeping child in his arms. A look of love on his face as he gazed at her while walking to her room. Anna moved silently and quickly, setting up a pallet for Geralt to sleep or rest on as he kept watch from the window. She came to his side and placing a small hand on his arm whispered "Thank you for coming, we are praying to the unnamed God that you are successful in your hunt. We don't want any more families to have to endure the pain we have felt." She shyly reached up and kissed him on the cheek before exiting the room.

Geralt's hand went to his cheek, this was the first time outside of Wolnosci that he had been treated with such care. What was it about these people who sprouted homage to this unnamed God! Frustration was building in Geralt, he missed Julia, missed Ciri, and even missed the dam mundane of the estate. Looking out the window he tried to focus to adjust his eyes to the night. An hour passed as he tried to keep his mind focused and then he saw movement.

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Julia had not been able to relax since Geralt had left three days ago. Renee and Ciri had tried everything to distract her and Renee had almost succeeded with her news. However here she was again full of worry. Ciri, Renee, and Tobias were doing sums over at the table in the library when Ciri looked over to Julia. She was sitting in her chair staring into the flames again her hands balling in her skirt brow furrowed. Wishing she could do something to ease Julia's worry she spoke to Tobias " Can I be excused, I think I need to go talk with Julia" seeing the concern in Ciri's eyes he excused her.

Ciri walked over to Julia and knelt by her chair, taking Julia's balled hands in hers. This startled Julia who looked down at the child with surprise. Seeing the child wanted to be with her she moved to the rug on the floor just as she would have with Geralt. Maneuvering themselves so Ciri was cuddled into Julia, her arms around the young girl Julia sighed. How did this precious child know she needed this physical contact? Ciri spoke quietly "Julia, Geralt will be ok. He's one of the best of the Witcher's." The young girl's voice held so much conviction Julia could not help but be soothed. Sighing Julia stroked Ciri's arm and responded "I know Ciri, but when you care about someone so deeply. It's hard to trust that they will be ok. You want the best for them, and you want to protect them. I hate that he is putting himself in harm's way. That I'm not there to help him if he is injured." Ciri knew what Julia was saying. She herself had pleaded with Geralt to take her with him so she could fight alongside him. It had only been Geralt extracting a promise to stay and protect Julia that made her agree to let him go.

The clock over the mantel struck 10 and as they all prepared to retire for the night Ciri looked to Julia. Feeling Julia needed more comfort Ciri asked: "Can sleep with you tonight?" Julia also sensing the child needed comfort agreed. Together they walked back to her room. Changing into there nightgowns they moved between the warmed sheets and Julia tucked Ciri into her arms. As Ciri's breathing started to even out, indicating she was falling asleep, Julia looked at the child in her arms. This child who had been unexpected had grown on Julia, and right now she was feeling a warm maternal love growing deeper inside her heart for Geralt's child surprise.

Geralt moved silently amongst the trees, just ahead of him he could see the young man and the tall raven-haired beauty. Her skin so white it glowed under the moon's rays making her hair stand out even more stark against her silhouette. She and the boy stood amongst the trees, her body leaning toward the young man who had fallen on his knees before her. Geralt knew he would only have one chance, one opportunity to kill this creature of the night. Confirming it was a Bruxa he took the vial of Black blood from his small bag hoping this would not be how he would kill the monster. Wanting to cover all his options he swallowed the foul concoction. As he crept closer, he could hear her gentle coaxing, her lullaby of song that held the young man transfixed. Sword in hand he stepped into the clearing and took aim.

The blade connected with the flesh of the creature causing her to scream. The sonic sound echoed through the quiet night. A piercing wave reverberating within his head, causing Geralt to drop his sword, and hold his hands over his ears. The beautiful woman who had been standing in front of the young man now turned into a hideous black bat-like creature. Its hands becoming talons apart from the one which had been removed by the Witcher's first blow. Regaining some equilibrium Geralt dove for his sword as the creature turned from the Man towards its assailant. Grabbing his sword Geralt turned and took another precise swing, slashing the torso of the Bruxa. She screamed again causing Geralt to fall to his knees the sound almost piercing his eardrums this time. He just needed to get close enough to stab her through the chest Geralt thought, as the Bruxa jumped on him trying to tear his armour with its good talon. Reaching for his sword Geralt realised it was too far away. He struggled with the Bruxa trying to gain control as the creature looked like it was going for his neck.

Julia sat up in bed in a sweat, she had seen in her dream Geralt fighting with a dark creature. It had him pinned on the ground ready to strike. Ciri also sat up sensing Julia in distress and having also had a bad dream about Geralt. Panting Julia shared her dream, Ciri with surprise confirmed she had also dreamt the same. Julia trying to think what this could mean said "Ciri, we can't do much from here, but will you pray with me. It is all we can do for him" tears running down her cheeks Ciri nodded to Julia and together they held hands. Shutting her eyes Julia spoke with urgency "Unnamed God, we urgently seek your help, please send your angels to assist Geralt. Send them to his aid. We ask for his deliverance from this dark creature" as she spoke Ciri turned to her, her eyes turning a strange colour and she spoke with a different voice. "I hear you, child, do not fear" at that Ciri fainted into Julia's arms.

Geralt was desperate to get his sword or to loosen his hand enough to get his small dagger from its hidden place in his armour. When he thought all was lost and the creature was going to rip into his neck it looked up. Screamed at something in the trees, whatever had distracted the creature it gave him the advantage. He was able to get his silver dagger and plunge it into the Bruxa's chest. Hearing a final scream from the dark creature it fell to its side no breath left in its lungs.

Geralt assessed his wounds. The creature's talons had connected with his skin on his leg and the side of his neck. However, nothing that would not heal. He looked around and found the young man curled up in a ball hidden behind a tree. Kneeling down he spoke softly and with kindness "its ok, the creature is no more." Placing a hand on the young man's shoulders he turned and looked up. Fear emanated from his eyes. "Come", helping the young man up the two of them walked back to the creature. Geralt needing to complete the job got some matches out from his bag and lit the creature alight. Looking around he saw the talon laying on the ground collecting it as proof he and the young man headed back to the Village.

Nial and Anna met him at the door to their cottage, seeing the young man Anna took him inside to warm him up. Nial saw the talon in Geralt's hand and uncharacteristically started to cry. Not sure what to do with the emotions of the man Geralt dropped the talon and awkwardly believing this is what Julia would have done, gave the man a side hug. He comforted Nial until the man had stopped his weeping, and drew him into the house.

The following day Geralt was taken by Nial to meet the alderman of the town. He was a burly man with a full mop of curly hair hidden under a funny tall hat. He greeted Geralt with a warm handshake and a big smile "Thank you Witcher for riding us of this terrible creature. Here is 3,000 Oren as thanks for your work" Geralt went to refuse payment as Julia had said they didn't need it. However, at the last moment, he had a thought, Geralt took the bag with thanks and turning to Nial said "Do you have a jeweler in town?" a smile crossing his face.

By lunchtime, Geralt had visited the local Jeweler and found exactly what he wanted. With the rest of the Oren, he bought provisions for the way home. With what was left he went to give it to Nial as a blessing to his family. Nial's face burned "no I can't take this Geralt, that's for your family." Geralt knowing this is what Julia would have wanted him to do put the bag in Nial's hand. "Please take it as a blessing from my house to yours" at this Anna gave Geralt a hug. They waved him and Rose off as he began his journey home, home to his family.

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eternalstrigoii · 4 years

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Salt of the Sea - I

Part of the U.W. ‘verse Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Desert Warrior Dark Fey Reader; Maleficent x Diaval; Shrike x General Percival; Philip x Aurora; King John adopted everyone

A great battle warred in the courtyards of Ulstead.

Iron armor fended off fey wing, though gouged deeply from talon-claws. Those fighting were not unarmed this time – you wore a chest plate made of bronze over one of the spider-silk shirts Queen Aurora had woven for you. It was equally resistant to penetration, and for that, you were grateful.

Because Percival was a terrible shot.

King John’s – or, rather, Queen Aurora and Prince Philip’s – royal guard trained with your people on as frequent of an occasion as time allowed. They were nothing like you; they relied too heavily on their weapons and their armor. They had yet to learn to move like limbs of the same beast.

You and Borra did not have that problem.

You had fought for so long with him at your back that he knew when to hold out his hand so you could hook your arm through his and splay your massive wings. You threw your weight over his back, slamming your bare feet into the iron shields of the men that sought to overtake you. He righted immediately, blocking the sweep of Percival’s shield.

Aurora watched intently from one of the palace’s grand balconies with a child in either arm.

Your new, bronze gauntlets deflected blows much better than the leather ones. You hadn’t noticed the deep gash someone’s sword had cut when you’d crossed them before you the last time you play-fought. You’d felt the bite of iron on your skin and smiled with far too many teeth, but, still, John insisted upon the upgrade. (It delighted you far too much to watch the blood drain from their faces.)

One sword deflected from them, then another; your fist connected with someone’s face, and the whole three guardsmen training with you took a collective step backward. You pursued them anyway, kicking the dazed center one’s shield.

You heard the sizzle of iron in contact with Borra’s skin, and you knew he’d disarmed Percival again. He held the tip of Percival’s blade under his chin with a wild, wicked smile before tossing it down in the loose stone just as Philip had nearly a year before.

“You need to trust them,” he said, much more patiently than you’d thought he would. “If you don’t trust your men, you’ll die in battle.”

“He doesn’t have that problem with his faerie wife,” the man whose nose you’d broken said, and you smelled the flush that immediately took hold of Percival’s skin.

“Then Shrike will fight with you next time.” He turned, his eyes skimming over you before lifting to the others, “Next time, there will be more of us and more of you. You’ll learn to fight together.”

“Ain’t she about ready to pop?” one of the swordsmen asked.

You were a warrior, trained nearly from birth. The swell of your belly didn’t slow you down, not even when the child inside started to squirm and writhe – just as he did then, like he knew he’d been acknowledged.

“Not until harvest,” you replied, with no lacking measure of irritation.

Aurora, particularly, worried for you, though John and Philip had never seen a warrior of your caliber continue to fight. Your child was strong, this time; there was no poison in the water that fell in the moors’ peaks where you’d relocated. To be closer to Maleficent, you’d joked.

Borra rested his hand on your belly at one of your child’s favorite kicking spots, and their persistent movement made you sigh with theatrical exasperation. You dropped your head against his shoulder. “They’re trying to fight their way out.”

“Borra’s child already has an appetite for war,’ Percival joked.

He grinned so largely that the sun glinted off his sharp teeth, and the swell of pleasure in your heart became a tidal wave. “They can’t wait to meet you,” he murmured in your ear, then pressed a kiss to the apple of your cheekbone.

“They’re hungry,” you replied, deadpan-teasing. “So am I.”

“Come dine with us!” Aurora called from the balcony. You were starting to suspect some of Maleficent’s magic was rubbing off on her, the way she listened in.

You sighed fondly, your eyes still locked with Borra’s.

He grinned and tilted back his head. The sun glinted off the gold freckles in his skin and summoned your fingers to trace their path from his temple to his jaw. “Is that an order, daughter of Maleficent?”

“It’s a please,” she replied.

“Goat and turnips?” Percival asked, drawing the sharpness of your gaze.

He grinned. He’d eaten with you enough to know what sort of habits you’d fallen into. But, yes – goat, turnips and agave were your child’s favorite things (although with the variety of food in the palace, you truly could’ve fixated upon anything). It was in your best interest, and the best interest of your people, to decline lest you find a new and even less appealing vegetable to enjoy.

Shrike already had words for you about the turnips.

“Come.” He grinned at the both of you. “There’s a region in the East that’s already grown large pumpkins. Have you ever had one before?”

You’d found that, sometimes, they called things you were familiar with something different – like roast duck and herbed fish. You shrugged, and pretended not to notice Aurora’s retreat into the palace to join you.

“Must it be inside?” you asked.

“Nah, we’ll move the party out onto the veranda.”

You gave him another frustrated look. He knew you had no idea what in stars he was saying, and he did this only to you. He was kind to Shrike and too afraid of Borra (not that Borra didn’t laugh at your response from time to time).

“The balcony,” he clarified. “The one next to the dining hall.”

You growled at him just because you could, and it did nothing to faze him.

His men followed, one limping, one still holding his bloody nose.

“They aren’t wrong.” Borra kissed your jaw, his hands remaining in the cradle he’d made under your belly. “We’ve fought hard for them. You deserve peace as much as the rest of us.”

“I won’t be shelved because I’m carrying our child. I’m not Aurora.” Not fragile and delicate like she was. Your skin was like stone, and you wore stronger armor now – armor with bands that adjusted so even your growing child was safe.

“I haven’t asked you to be.” He kissed you again. “Just be careful. Hm? I love you.” Yet another kiss to your lips made them quirk with a smile. You kissed him in return. “You’re always at my side, Suren. That will never change.”

“If I don’t fight with you, Aurora will start making flower crowns and expecting me to wear them,” you said with exceptional gravity, as though it was the worst possible punishment you could think of. “She’ll have her pixies tailor gowns for me.”

He gave you a playful little growl. “Spider-silk wedding dress. Crown of roses in your hair.”

You swatted his armored shoulder. “You’re not supposed to like it!”

He had no reason to gather you into his arms, but he did, and you had half a mind to put on an act and pretend to be his damsel princess. You linked your fingers behind his neck and fluttered your wings with false helplessness, and fresh, warm laughter bubbled from him. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I am careful.”

He quirked a brow.

“I promise.”

There was no changing the way he felt. You knew what manner of man you loved well before he lobbied for Maleficent – before you heard the fury in his voice when he told the others of the council that she’d been shot, that humans would find her, that if Conall hadn’t found her, she would be dead.

You hadn’t trusted her then. Almost none of you had. But Borra was right, and he always was – she was what would save you. She had saved you all. And the child she raised brought justice with your peace.

You let him carry you to the veranda (a word you thought with an internal sneer), the great, pale balcony choked with white rose-vines leftover from the young queen’s wedding. Some of the flower sprites borne from it had to have contained the spirits of your people, though that hardly mattered when it came to the endurance of your dying race.

“Truthfully,” he pressed, sitting on the ledge with his massive wings draped over the many blooms. “How do you feel?”

Truthfully? You were growing more and more certain that your child would not wait until harvest. You’d been awoken overnight by their shifting, as though they were already trying to stretch their under-developed wings. How stifling your body must’ve been to them; you doubted they’d know the womb of the earth from which you’d come.

“I feel,” you righted yourself somewhat to gently bunt horns with him, “like you have no reason to worry. I know you will anyway, but I promise – they’re strong. They’re healthy, and they love you as much as I do.”

“And you?” the softness in his gaze when he brushed his fingers over your neck was unfair, he knew what his eyes did to you.

“I’m heavy, Borra. I’m always hungry, and I’m unused to being tired. As far as suffering goes, I’m not far gone.”

“I’m glad.” Aurora joined you on the balcony, then, with her little boys on either of her sides. The young princes were rapidly approaching their first birthdays, and you knew it was only a matter of time before your people started trying to convince her to celebrate on the moors with them and her mother.

She spent much too much time among humans these days.

“I have something to ask of you, if it wouldn’t be too much.” She’d prefaced many things in the last year that way, by handing you your favorite baby (the one you’d first held and given your blessing, though you loved his brother much the same) and preparing an unnecessary speech.

Borra claimed the other child without being asked, as though you and two more weren’t draped across his lap.

“I’d like you to be there, at the christening.” She twirled and twisted her fingers as though toying with invisible rings. You thought she had the nerve to look up at you, but, this time it wasn’t the case. “Maleficent and Diaval won’t be the only magical beings there, but they would be the only…” Dark fey. Dark fey, as though she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. “Not-little ones. People will be afraid.”

“And you think we’ll make them any less?” you responded.

She glanced at you, and you nearly crawled out of your skin. The gentle innocence in her eyes was a lie; her eyes flickered down to the swell of your belly before rising back to your face, and she had the nerve to bite at the skin of her lower lip as though she had shame in giving herself away.

“You’re their godparents. And defender of the moors. You lead your people—”

“On a council,” you replied, damn near asking her out loud why Shrike and Percival weren’t their token interspecies romance.

“And I love you. You’re my family. All of you are. I’m not asking the others not to come, but out of everyone who will, I’d like you both to be there.”

But especially you, with the child inside of you disarming the terrified nobility. A symbol of peace and prosperity, the first of your kind born outside the cradle of isolation in centuries.

You owed her, you supposed. You didn’t, but every time she asked for something, that little part of you cropped back up. She’d done the right thing, and you were grateful, and though you should be insulted, you weren’t, because you were fond of her and her children and her silly young husband and her father-in-law, and, especially, her mother.

You looked to Borra. Let it be his call.

The baby in his arms could stand, now, which surprised you considering how rarely he was put down. He’d grabbed hold of one of Borra’s horns and stood on two feet in the safety of your mate’s curled wing. “When is it?”

“Tomorrow, hopefully. It’s….” Aurora’s hesitation melted away with a laugh. “It needed to be perfect.” Because it wouldn’t be like hers. King John of Ulstead was no King Stefan, whose exploits you’d been told in detail long after Diaval had begun to trust you, and though you had still hardly known Maleficent then, you’d taken wing to join her in her perch high in the peaks and embraced her as though she was your sister. You had known you hadn’t needed to, but you had, and something like a distant friendship formed afterward. You had grown, in some way, at least mildly fond of one another, primarily connected by your men as you were.

He met your eyes, and you gave a falsely-irritated sigh. “Couldn’t convince them to bring it to the moors?”

“No,” she said, and the obvious frustration in her voice satisfied your suspicion. The people of Ulstead still did not want you there, and for that reason alone, you quirked your head in approval.

“We’ll be there,” Borra replied.

“Good, I’m glad!” John exclaimed, leading the procession of food onto the balcony’s newly-set table. There were wooden plates and cutlery, though he must’ve known you wouldn’t use hardly any of it. “How is the armor we’ve designed working?”

You took your cue to gather the children and separate from your place on his lap, though you’d committed to not being ornamental. Aurora took hers back one at a time, lingering beside you as Borra closed the space between them.

“I’m not a fan of the plating.” They were all business again, strategy fresh in their minds. “We have to fly with it on. The way it’s designed now is too heavy. There’s too much stress on the joints.”

“You have to have something,” John pressed. About that, he wasn’t wrong.

“Yes, but they’re muscular. The bones are hollow. We need them to move a certain way, and if you reinforce plating with too much banding -- if you plate over whole sections of the wing at all—”

Philip joined you and his wife, pressing a kiss to Aurora’s temple. He was listening, just as you were, though his attention made up for the lapse in yours when one of the many servants got to work assembling a platter of a thick orange squash.

“Pumpkin,” you said to yourself, tasting the word on your tongue.

You never would’ve called it that, but humans were strange creatures.

You awoke again that night with a jolt, startling at the force of your fledgling’s thrashing.

Borra’s arm tightened around you gently. He’d taken to holding you in the cradle of his wing, folded around your body like a blanket as though you’d ever want for warmth at his side. You shifted your hips, sighing in frustration when the movement didn’t cease.

You weren’t at all surprised to find him awake beside you. He always was quick to rouse, even without the potential for attack on the horizon.

“He’s restless,” you whispered.

Still, he watched you with an excess of caution. When you stood to stretch, he was slow to fully withdraw his wing from around your body. You fanned yours, beat them in the air, rolled your neck, and wandered the nest with equal restlessness.

Maybe your child did yearn for freedom as you had.

“Calm down,” you whispered to them, your hands running over the curve of your belly time and time again. “Let me rest. You’ll be here in no time, and then you can keep me up all night.”

All your movement worried him. It worried you, too, though you said nothing of it. As sacred and necessary every child was to rebuilding your people, the elders said the process would be uncomfortable. It required patience and resolve, commitment to your undertaking. There was little difference between pregnancy and the preparation for war.

But they’d said nothing about the little monster never sitting still. Maybe that was your fault. Maybe you’d given them an agave flower too many.

“Suren.” His voice was low as he shifted, drawing his great wings in.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine. You’ve been like this almost every night.”

You felt like there was a weight between your hips. You’d felt it every night for nearly the last week – your child made you painfully aware of its presence. You’d thought, the first handful of times, their arrival might come with little warning.

He rose, intending to join you – to stop you from pacing, perhaps, though you thought you might completely lose your mind if you did. Though, almost as soon as he rose, you saw something in the distance.

Not a meteor, for it didn’t travel. Not a bonfire, for it wasn’t fixed. A strange glow bobbed along the other side of the moors – high above the ruined castle and the village still preserved. The people who still lived within it.

And you were torn back to Ulstead, to the explosion of red bombs. Men you’d known your whole life crumbling around you, reduced to nothing. Vaporized. Most of them didn’t have the time to scream.

It wasn’t the first time either of you were stolen by those vivid dreams, memories replayed in the darkness of your closed eyes. Iron nets. The fire of crossbows. Bolts, bullets, and arrows. The sting of pain at a shield’s contact, the bite of a sword into your leather, the hiss as a blade made contact with your skin. Sometimes you didn’t even have to be asleep.

But Borra interrupted them, with your face in his hands. He drew you back as though breaking a spell. His flared wings met yours, and his voice was gentle. “It’s alright. It’s over. It’s alright now.”

You hated that he understood. You hated that he shared it all with you, though some part of you was also grateful. The burns iron left on his skin, the mark on his arm where Percival pierced. It was all so much, and you had the nerve to bring a child into this world – a world where even you still felt hatred for what you most feared.

“It’s alright.” His forehead rested against yours, your horns practically one. “Come back to bed.”

“There was a fire,” you whispered, “over the wall of thorns.”

He drew you close to him. You almost thought it wouldn’t be there when his wings folded back, but, no – there it was, lingering above the wall of thorns.

A torch.

You felt him stiffen. You knew what he wanted to do, and yet he looked to you for your approval first.

“Go,” you whispered. “But take her with you.”

He kissed you, sudden and firm. You pretended not to feel its gravity as he ran, as he launched himself from your nest on his powerful wings.

You pretended you didn’t feel as though you’d been shelved, though that was exactly how you did.

You scrubbed the tired from your eyes and stared into the breakfast fire.

The thick, juicy flesh of some large animal made your stomach growl. It was nearly done. Percival brought it with his arrival at dawn, and all the moors called out to him in welcome.

They woke you, curled in your mate’s wing. He had gone with Maleficent in the night, and they claimed to have found nothing (though you were still waiting to ambush Diaval to make sure).

“How do you feel?” Shrike slung her legs over one of the large, fallen logs that had begun to serve as perch for your people when the earth was too damp to be comfortable.

“Almost too heavy to fly,” you responded. “They keep me up at night.”

“It’ll come soon enough.” She ripped a generous portion of meat from the bone and offered it to you.

“I hate being taken care of.”

“Good, I’m the last person you want taking care of you.”

You conceded and took the meat from her, and she responded by pressing a hand to your belly. “Percy tells me you’ve got quite an appetite for war.”

The kicking started. You growled quietly, though you definitely preferred it when they moved to when they were silent. They. He. Whatever it was. Whatever it turned out to be, it was yours, and you loved it, no matter how tired and frustrated it left you.

“We’ll celebrate you next, little thing.” She drummed her talons lightly on the spot in response. “Once we’re done with Aurora.”

You couldn’t hide the face you pulled. Lovely, more celebrations.

“You’re bearing the first child born outside the nest in centuries. If you didn’t want fanfare, you should’ve taken them home.”

Percival rescued you from telling her that you believed that option to be fast-fading, though you weren’t particularly pleased with how. “King John sends his regards.” He set down a thick parcel of nesting cloth – blankets, they called them, and several thick, warm furs.

As difficult as you were about their fussing, you didn’t extend the same to the king. John was a good man, and surprisingly fond of you all despite what you’d done to his kingdom, his people, and his wife. He was the first human you’d allowed to touch your belly (besides Aurora, as though she could be stopped), and the first of his many gifts had been a set of mutilated (“altered”) shirts that fit comfortably over your growing belly when your leather chest-plate grew too tight. They laced behind the neck and left plenty of room for your wings. You wore them often, especially in Ulstead.

You still remembered his delight when your fledgling learned to squirm. It was as though he’d never felt anything like it. He loved children, his grandsons and the young fey especially. You’d thought of the heartless shrew he’d married, and you imagined that she regarded Philip as more of an obligation than a child, and the thought hadn’t surprised you at all.

You could’ve wept for him.

“What in skies are you doing?” Ini asked, drawing your attention from the parcel of furs.

General Percival retreated back toward the fire with a small, glass container of crystals that he sprinkled over the flesh of a raw beet. “Sugared beets. They’re delicious.”

“He eats like moor-folk!” she exclaimed with open delight.

“He is moor-folk,” you reminded, still holding tightly to your gift, “He’s made an alliance.”

Still, she laughed as he took another bite, and you paused to stare at him with new gravity. “You didn’t forget what I’ve asked of you, did you?”

He practically startled, leaving the beet in his mouth to go into his satchel. “Not at all.”

Your friends watched curiously as he passed you a smaller parcel wrapped in ornamental paper, the likes of which you were exceedingly eager to open. It was the second-best part of prolonged peace, your new fascination.

“What is that?” Shrike asked, rather distastefully.

“Candy,” Percival replied, trying to give you a measure of dignity. As though its proximity to the fire hadn’t warmed it enough to be soft and linger on your tongue and your fingers.

You motioned Ini to you, the excitement in the gesture unabashed, and she came to your side. You broke off a generous piece and whispered into her ear, “John calls it Chocolate.”

She nodded, mouthing the word to herself in retreat.

“It’s candy,” Percy repeated, “made of milk, sugar, and crushed beans.”

Shrike raised her brows at you. You licked your fingers and wiped the corners of your mouth. “Beans. Sugared beans.”

You extended some to her as well, and the face she made at you when you licked the smear from your fingers was worth every royal string pulled to acquire more.

“It’s good,” Percy offered, and it was his praise alone that got her to taste some.

“You little beast!” she exclaimed after a moment. “We grew these in the trees!”

“Not like this,” Ini rose to your defense.

Had it not been for the warmth of his gaze upon you (or the fact that Percy looked up and some of the joy still drained from his face), Borra might’ve been able to join you without warning.

“No wonder it keeps you up all night,” the disapproval was plain in Shrike’s voice. “It’s good for energy.”

Borra kneaded your shoulders lightly, and you tipped your head back to feed him a piece. His mouth quirked, and the glint of challenge in his eyes when he snatched the ornamental paper from you gave you no motivation to resist.

Not yet, anyway. Not in front of them.

“What’s over there?” he spoke to Percy, removing chocolate from the equation. He gestured out beyond the peaks, toward the wall of thorns.

He frowned, and you thought he was about to be deliberately literal. “Perceforest. King Stefan’s kingdom. Aurora liberated it.”

“Are they an ally?”

He shrugged. “There hasn’t been much communication with Ulstead since Stefan’s death. Aurora handled most everything – or, so we thought.”

Your wings sagged with the anticipation of relief.

“Ingrith presumed Maleficent had control over the region. To what degree, or whether or not she did, we never found out.”

And then they didn’t.

“Then there’s a chance they might still be our enemy.”

Percy shifted toward him, as did Ini and Shrike. You were glad Udo was still assembling the children to come join you; they didn’t need to hear this, even if he deserved to.

“Suren and I saw a torch along the wall of thorns last night. Someone walked along it.”

“I don’t have plans for the city,” Percy admitted, “I can see if there may still be guard towers.”

“There was no battlement on the other side. It was as though they’d climbed.”

A flutter of distrust ran through you all, for obvious reasons. And the flutter in your belly reminded you to eat regardless.

He sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

Borra rested his elbows on his knees and leaned deliberately close to him. “Tell me the odds that it was nothing.”

You watched him. You, Ini, Borra and Shrike. Though he wasn’t unshakable by any standard, Percival was careful with his response. “You know I can’t.”

“I won’t go,” Ini immediately replied. “Tonight, to Ulstead. If they know we’re leaving, they can attack.”

“If they know we’re leaving, they may anticipate some of us will stay,” Shrike responded. “We have to consider how well armed they may be.”

“Would they be so bold? To show themselves before attacking?”

“They may not have planned on being seen.”

“No one is attacking,” Percival interjected. “We can go to Perceforest if need be. Talk to them. Ask questions. For all you know, you saw a child trying to catch a glimpse of the faeries.”

You said nothing, and Borra noticed.

He wasn’t the only one.

Their eyes landed upon you, and you ate a generous strip of flesh from between your talons like carrion swallowed whole. You considered the things you wanted to leave out against the ones they deserved to know.

“Every night for the last several,” you began, “I awake with a feeling. I thought, at first, they might be coming,” as much as you hated the thought that your human companions found you fragile just for carrying a child, your hand went to the baby’s kicking-spot anyway. It comforted you to feel them move. “But they haven’t. It’s like a weight inside me. It makes us both restless. It’s like they want me to leave.”

“Who?” Ini asked.

“The baby,” you admitted.

The gravity of their collective stare – sans Percival, who rarely knew what to make of your council – nearly made you flinch.

“It’s like whatever they’re doing, the child can feel. Like the child’s telling me to leave for higher ground.” Like they anticipated another slaughter and wanted to escape themselves, with or without you. A warrior’s spirit. Their father’s sense.

Borra was the first to straighten. You hadn’t wanted to tell him how right he was – how well fear gripped you for their safety and all of yours.

“They’re not going to wait until harvest,” you told him, then. You might as well, since you were revealing all of your not-secrets at once.

His eyes locked with yours.

“I know they won’t. We’ll have to over-winter in the peaks. I won’t take them that far when the winds are shifting. They’ll still be too small.”

“When?” he asked in a low, frustrated hiss. You weren’t entirely sure if he meant when did you know or when are they coming, so you gave your best guess for both.

“When he squirms. It’s like he’s fighting to be loose. He’s strong, much stronger than either of Aurora’s children.” It wasn’t as though you’d had much practice with children of your own kind before you carried one; your war had been your child, Borra the subject of your devotion. “I’ve only suspected these last few days. He gets stronger every day, more active. I’d like to believe it’s wishful thinking, but after last night, I’m not sure.”

“Or they’re doing something,” he agreed, but the ferocity in his voice reminded you of the iron bullet he’d rolled between his fingers in the council-hall. The sizzle of flesh and the sear of his voice. He would protect you with his life, but that would never be the first resort – the first resort would be retaliation.

“I’ll go to Perceforest,” Percival said suddenly, rising before Borra could. “I’ll speak with them. And if they’re doing anything that could harm any fey,” you pretended not to notice the way his eyes lingered on you, as though reminding your mate that no harm would come to your child, “I’ll stop it.”

“You’re not going alone.” Shrike stood, and he turned to her.

“And if they are planning something?” he lowered his voice. “If, by some chance, I walk in and uncover a plot, you need to be here to lead them.” He rested his hands on her arms, let them slide down to hold the gauntlets around her wrists. “Protect your people. I’ll take the guard. It’ll be an official matter of Ulstead, with John’s seal and signature.”

She looked to Borra. He, to you.

“Go,” you said. “Better him than us.”

You hoped your tone said that his punishment would be just where yours would involve teeth and talon. You were not entirely convinced that it did.

You tilted your head back in pleasure at the feeling of cold water beading on your hot skin.

Borra knelt behind you, washing the dust from your hair. The sweat from your skin. You groomed and preened one another with increasing frequency in preparation for the child that would take both of your attention, their presence an inescapable constant.

“Are you upset?” It was the first thing you’d said since breakfast, not that Percival’s decision hadn’t left you all feeling strangely fractured. Humans operated independently; if they wanted to hold union with you all, they needed to learn to function as a unit.

He made a sound not too far from a jungle cat’s purr. “With you? No. Though no good comes from trying to spare my feelings.”

“I never want you to worry.”

He gathered your hair off your neck and pressed a kiss to his favorite biting-spot, where you were almost certain to have a lingering mark from how frequently the skin there had been pierced. “I don’t worry, I plan. You can’t tell me much that I haven’t planned for.”

Gone were the days of battle strategy held in council around the fire. The plans were all his now, your people willing to embrace peace as long as they knew there was a contingent option.

“I’m afraid,” you admitted in a whisper. “Not for them or me. For all of us. We should leave, Borra. I can’t tell you why I feel that way…” You hesitated. But he was patient, with you above any other. “I feel it. Like they’re lurking in the shadows, waiting for us to sleep. Waiting to kill them on the moors and shoot the rest of us from the sky.”

It frightened you how well you could imagine that, and you temporarily took leave of your senses toward why; humans slaughtered the moor-folk before. Ulstead ripped your people from the sky, as had countless other kingdoms. Your nerves were drawn and quartered with little sleep, and the child inside you, though dearly beloved, had the habit of literally dancing on your last measure of sanity.

“I won’t let that happen.” He pressed his horns against yours, though, for once, the gesture offered little comfort. Your fingers laced with his, and you gave his hand a desperate squeeze.

“I don’t like these odds,” you whispered. “I don’t like variables. I don’t like not knowing.”

“I know.” He held the back of your head. “Trust me. If nothing else, trust that I will never let you be taken from me.”

You wanted to protest, and he pressed horns with you a bit harder, encouraging you to sink back into the safety of his wings. “I did not fall to Ulstead’s queen, and I will not fall now. Trust me, Suren.”

You did. His certainty had always been the shore in a turbulent storm, and it was for you then, also.

“I do,” you whispered. “I always have. That doesn’t stop me from being afraid.”

He drew in a slow breath, let it warm in his lungs before it fanned your skin like the kiss of summer. “We’ve been afraid nearly every moment of our lives. That cannot stop us.”

It wouldn’t. Nothing could be stopped now; your child was strong enough that they could be torn from your dying body if need be. All your plans had been put into action, now their variables shifted. All the parts in play were slowly becoming revealed.

“Do you want to go back to the nest?” he asked, with a deliberate softness that eased your nerves.

“No.” You liked it here. You liked your little cave, the flighty little people who lived on the moors and the cast of humans who’d worked their way into your heart. To return to the nest would be to abandon your people, and that wasn’t something you would ever allow. “Fear isn’t worth our freedom.”

Not after all you’d given to secure it.

“Though you have more patience with me than you should.” You shifted onto your knees, intent upon reciprocating. You weren’t the only one preparing for the christening, though you wondered, faintly, if you should’ve also tended your armor.

“I don’t make decisions without you,” he replied, thumbs brushing your knuckles.

“You should.”

He made a sharp sound of disgust. You’d had this conversation before, but now, more than ever, did you squeeze his hands when he tried to soothe you. “I’m not their leader. They didn’t choose me.”

“We are a council of equals. You are at my side, and I’m at yours.” It’d been a long time since you saw defiance in the set of his jaw, and you couldn’t recall if you’d ever seen it directed at you. “Always.”

“And if I lead you back to war on suspicion and fear? If my hatred kills us, you’ll have only me to blame.”

He searched your eyes. You’d never come so close to speaking out loud that he was your greatest weakness. You were a warrior, and your skill in that you took immense and well-earned pride in, but you weren’t him. You would never lead them. You could separate the forest from the trees, but you could never see the way they intermingled. He assessed the danger, he planned, he gave the orders. You carried them out, and for the bulk of your life, it was sufficient.

And then Conall went and died, and peace and reason left the council on shifting sands, and you never regained your balance.

“That won’t happen,” he said, and you took solace in his certainty – if for no better reason than that he had never wronged you. “You’re not the only one entrusting your life. Your instincts never fail.”

You said nothing. You told him nothing of how you felt that they would now. Your sleeplessness, your restlessness, your peace – you feared that it dulled you. That you’d acclimated to the scent of human on your hair so well that you wouldn’t be able to tell if one was coming through the brush.

“Suren.” He took your face in his hands, and you soaked in their warmth. You basked in the press of his forehead to yours, in the way your noses touched as though the brush of your lips would be quick to follow. “I love you. For reasons I can name and ones I can’t. I hoped you knew most of them.”

A few of them, you did. Loyalty. Strength. Devotion. The fact that you had been willing to give peace a chance when you truly shouldn’t have.

“Trust yourself as you trust me. I do.”

A part of you had always thought that when Conall begged for peace, he had thought it would be Borra that would undo you. You’d known that you would’ve followed him into battle even if his plans weren’t fully formed, even if he didn’t know the odds and acted only out of vengeance. You’d assumed they had, also.

These days, you understood what Udo must’ve meant when you’d declared that you would die for him. If you did, if you gave in to your hatred and your fear, it would undo you all.

It was a strange christening.

You had never been to one, of course, but it still struck you as exceptionally odd. The chapel in which it should’ve taken place contained the still-living bodies of fallen tree-folk, whose branches had finally overtaken the roof. You saw it buckling, the green of emerging leaves splitting the roof-seam.

It was strangely appropriate against the décor of the ruthless former queen that her captive nature would, at last, fight back. Even in death.

The doors to the great hall stood open for whoever elected to come. It was a grand affair, brimming over with dancing and food. Children flitted through the rafters and scurried through the legs of earthbound adults, playing the same game at different altitudes. Udo watched them fondly with his great, snowy wings folded at his sides. Aurora was thrilled to have him, and, of his plumage, her children were equally fond.

You were restless. The current of distrust ran from you into the mortals like the scent of fired gunpowder.

Percival’s absence didn’t help.

“Ini’s got men on every turret,” Shrike whispered to Borra when she joined you. “The king’s guard is out in full.”

“They’re expecting trouble,” you agreed.

Borra’s eyes traveled to Maleficent at the dais with John and their children. His wife’s throne was gone, you realized – replaced with something else, one made from the very earth. Woven branches and blooming flower vines. No cushion. Its roots breeched the stone floor and leaves slipped between the window panes – a living, breathing throne for a young, not-wholly-mortal queen.

It was as though her gaze had been summoned. She looked to you, and Borra waited for the nod that followed. Diaval flashed you a warm, reassuring smile.

“She’s told John of last night,” the fold of his wing drew you closer. “They’re prepared.”

“I don’t like this.” Shrike shifted, the streams over her leather leg-plating rustling like willow boughs.

“Then tell him to open the windows,” was Borra’s only reply. The glass wouldn’t hurt, but it would be an inconvenience.

She did, stalking across the open floor at a clip that made even those who knew her leave her path.

Aurora had not asked you not to wear armor, and for that you were grateful; you had, as had he, as had Shrike and Ini. Udo could not be convinced, though you imagined it was mostly because even in war, he preferred to act in defense. You were her tokens, evidence of a great and ever-growing peace, and yet you openly distrusted them.

Few of them noticed. You were as grand of winged fixtures as the queen’s statues. Most of which, you noticed, were no longer there.

“What’s wrong?” Aurora joined you much later than you imagined she would, reaching for your hands. Udo still held her children, which freed her to be the young and noble queen once more.

You pretended not to notice the eyes that followed her every move, though you certainly flared your wings. Her frown withheld no disapproval.

“Perceforest climbed the wall of thorns,” Borra said, his eyes as keen as yours. Fixed on them rather than her. “They’ve been looking out over the moors at night.”

“Has anyone gone missing?” she whispered, as though poachers were the only problem.

“No. But no one has tried to make contact, either. We don’t know what they want, and we can’t safely assume.”

She wanted to reassure you. You saw it in her round, open face, the soft set of her shell-pink mouth and the gentle wetness of her doe-eyes. Instead, she squeezed both of your hands and straightened her spine, and she looked more like her mother in that moment than you’d ever seen her.

“I won’t let any harm come to you. You are my family,” another squeeze, tighter.

“The queen’s guard isn’t properly trained,” Borra replied to her, quietly. “They’ll never withstand another attack.”

“Then I won’t let there be one.” She was ambitious, and you had to give her credit – her ambition rarely failed. “Please, enjoy the party. This isn’t just a happy time for me, I want it to be for you, too.”

“You want a lot of things, Aurora,” you said. The reservation in your voice almost sounded like sorrow.

“What’s wrong?” Philip joined your group, wrapping his arms around the waist of Aurora’s frilly gown. She smiled, though you considered asking him out loud if anyone knew another phrase of greeting.

Something warm and soft wound around your ankles. Without thinking, Borra bent and lifted the last queen’s cat into his arm. The angry little creature looked up at you both, large eyes dilated…and gently cast itself against his side, purring in contentment at his warmth.

That made Aurora glow. “If you like her, you can keep her.”

“And not because she terrorizes Pinto,” Philip was quick to add. “She also terrorizes Diaval.”

You felt your mate’s gaze and intentionally didn’t meet it, though a smile overspread your mouth whether or not you wanted it there. “Is that your blessing to me, Philip? An attack-beast?”

The prince grinned. “Oh, no, there’ll be no fey blood on my hands.”

You sighed, fondly this time, and reached out to touch the little creature.

It hissed sharply and swatted at your approaching hand.

You hissed back for posterity. “Give it to Udo.” He would be patient enough to teach it manners. You couldn’t guarantee your inability to eat it if it bothered you.

“Your highnesses?” one of their footmen approached, their eyes deliberately avoiding the both of you. “It’s time.”

Aurora beamed. Philip, ever the diplomat, bowed to you both before retreating with her in tow – leaving the bastard cat tucked in the crook of your mate’s arm like it was a pleasant distraction.

“We could call it Pipistrelle,” he said to you, sidelong. “Or Parodia.”

Bat or cactus. You might add Philip to your list of people whose lives were no longer guaranteed before the night was over.

The royal horns bleated like frightened animals, and those of you already gathered in the hall flinched. Aurora reclaimed her children from your friend, giving your favorite to their father, and rejoined her parents in front of her throne.

Maleficent rested a hand on her shoulder, the love in her eyes unparalleled.

There was an official declaration. Very official, you would’ve thought if you had truly been paying attention. Beyond the open doors, you heard the clink-drag of armor – bronze rather than iron. There were no wing beats, no even rhythm to the steps. You searched the faces of the royalty, the nobility, the gentry, and the people of Ulstead, mortal and fey.

Percival staggered into the door frame, bloodied and half-limp. You wordlessly gripped the crisp leather securing Borra’s bronze gauntlet. His eyes lifted, some of the first.

Percy looked your mate in the eyes, his breathing heavy, and nodded once. His voice was low enough that only those of you who knew it knew to listen.

“Run.”

Udo’s great wings beat. He gathered the children quickly, sweeping them out through the open windows. The amusement and delight the mortals expressed at the sight of them, their rainbow of plumage taking flight, fell away as quickly as Shrike ran to join Percival in the door, shifting his weight from it to around her neck with her folded left wing.

“Percy?” Philip asked, much too late.

“The kingdom of Perceforest is in revolt,” he said, and you thought it was much too loudly. “They’ve moved against the Midlands. They seek separation from Ulstead.”

“Why?” Aurora asked, her doe-eyes widening.

Maleficent’s fingers curled around her daughter’s shoulder. Your eyes snapped to Borra, your banded wings at the ready.

“You know why,” someone in the crowd declared. “Because of them.”

He held you. Not yet. Wait until they act. Leave no doubt as to their reason.

But they had given you no doubt the first time peace was broken. You had no doubt then, though you stayed where you were, tense at his side. You could’ve ground the points off your sharp teeth.

A dark-robed man emerged from the crowd, a peasant you’d seen in the streets. You’d disliked the way he looked at the little moor-folk, and your children when they played with theirs. There was nothing you could’ve done, then, but this was a different occasion.

“It is the same reason,” the dark-robed man continued, “that no priest is willing to christen the princes. What you bring to this land is unholy.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Philip moved to stand, placing his child in his wife’s awaiting grasp.

John held up his hand. “You don’t speak for everyone when you speak, father, though your role in our community does not go without respect.”

Of course. The bloody priest. A loyalist to that puritanical monster if you’d ever considered one. This was what happened when humans allowed any charlatan peddling promises to carry on tradition.

“Does it?” the robed man lifted his head, and you could’ve swept the quiet arrogance off his face with your talons had Borra not kept hold of you. “I recall telling you when you asked me that no priest in Ulstead, Perceforest, or the Midlands would bless this unholy union. As though these foul, grunting things—”

Now it was Percy’s turn to take hold of Shrike, as though the entirety of his weight didn’t rest upon her.

“—offer us anything but strife.”

“We’ve lost many to your kind,” Borra said, and the strength of his voice reminded you, for a moment, of Conall. “People who’ve done no more than spare your children from starvation over winter.”

“Is that what you call killing peasants on the riverbank?” the dark-robed man had turned on you, and you knew he saw the violence brewing in your eyes. “They should’ve dispatched a bounty on the lot of you.”

“You killed your share in return,” you snapped.

“Suren,” Aurora interjected. “Stand down.”

“I don’t take orders from you,” you hissed, your gaze unwavering.

“I’m not giving them.” She kept her voice soft, trying her best to speak only to you. “Please. For your child and mine.”

Borra’s wings flared. Many of the villagers didn’t know of what she spoke, but the offending priest did. “Sacrilege. Your queen brings a thing of the devil into your palace!”

Your felt your fury rising. You took an involuntary step toward him, talons poised as if to call branches up from the earth.

“That’s enough,” John thundered.

You paused, as did the priest. Your mate drew closer to you, parts of his wing extending before you in defense.

“Do you think this is Stefan’s kingdom?” the good king’s voice was harder than you could ever recall having heard before. “Do you believe I, or my family, will tolerate men like you undermining the treaties we’ve made? The laws we enforce?”

Your eyes darted to where Shrike and Percival stood together. They were like you and Borra, hovering close to the other, prepared for the moment at which their action, or their flight, be necessary.

“You ask for us to bless a curse!”

Borra had to extend his wing in full to stop you. You were not Aurora’s godmother, but you were her sons’, and you’d grown to agree with Maleficent as you’d watched them grow and fatten – they were defenseless, helpless, and small.

And you would have killed anyone, man or fey, who laid a hand on her child.

“You deny your people the truth, king.” The priest was emboldened, turning to address the crowd, “There will be no christening, unless it is by the witch who raised her.”

One of the guards gripped his shoulder suddenly, jaw clenched. “I would be very careful with what you choose to say.”

“You see!” He turned on them, gesturing, “Their corruption’s reached even the lowest of the palace! No one is safe from their unholy sway.”

The ravings of a madman, you thought, not that it soothed you. Ingrith was a madman too, and that worked out just fine for her. Until you picked the meat from her goat-carcass.

“Cease, or you will be arrested,” John exclaimed. The queen’s guard began to gather, and your attention suddenly diverted to Percival.

“Where in skies is your horse?”

A great commotion arose beyond the palace walls. The priest went for one of the guards’ swords. By no means should it have been noteworthy – they should’ve been able to stop him.

But that would’ve meant he acted alone. You knew how well frightened mortals rose together.

“Run!” Aurora cried to the moor-folk, and much of the faeries did. They fled in colorful streaks just as they had from the poor girl’s wedding.

Maleficent’s eyes fell upon you. As deeply as you loathed the thought of withdrawal, you had an obligation to protect your own. She could handle it. If anyone could squash a simple peasant revolt (and how earnestly you hated that you thought those words), it would be her.

You pulled the young queen and her children with you.

The stone steps under your feet were unpleasant. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d run without the pleasure of launching soon afterward, but the palace’s halls were too narrow – especially the ascending ones. You pushed Aurora ahead of you, tearing the hem of her gown when it started to make her steps falter.

Borra was right behind you, the bronze bands around his wings not enough to shield him from fire should it come.

“Wait,” Aurora started to cry when you’d reached a wider hall, “Wait! Philip! And John! My mother!”

“They’ll follow us!” You took one of the children from her arms and pressed them close to you. “Hold tight to him, Aurora.”

You didn’t know if she’d ever flown before. Being Maleficent’s daughter, you imagined she must have, though it was hardly the time to ask.

She trembled, but obeyed.

Shrike and Percy were fast on your heels. She practically carried him up the steps, his arm around her neck and his weight on her side. She nodded to Borra quickly and cast them both over the window ledge, giving her mortal no warning.

The prince came next with Maleficent and Diaval. You breathed out relief at the sight of the raven beside his mate, the way he placed himself between her and the ascending footfalls.

“Take her,” Maleficent said to Borra, and a fraction of the pressure in your chest released. She waited until Philip was nearly up the stairs to make the thick vines grow in his wake. To buy you time.

“Go!” Philip called ahead. His shirt was torn and his sword bloodied.

“Philip!” she cried, clinging to the child in her arms.

“Go!” he spared a glance back to her and faltered. “I love you.”

Borra wrapped his arm around her, trapping her and her child against new bronze, and leapt as Aurora screamed.

“Suren!” Philip called, and you paused with your foot on the ledge. “Tell them of me.”

“Tell them yourself, Philip of Ulstead. I’ll see you again.”

And you dove.

It was as it had been the first time your wings flattened to soar above the walls of Ulstead. Your people flew in chaotic, indecipherable patterns, drawing fire so the both of you might pass unharmed. There were no bombs this time; by all intents, you and your warriors had the upper hand.

But there was peace. No one gave the order to retaliate, and so you didn’t.

“Withdraw!” Borra called to the others as you neared the river. “Withdraw! Fall in behind me!”

They did, crying the order to one another in your wake.

You flattened your wings. Picked up altitude. Once you cleared the wall, you turned. Shrike didn’t, and you didn’t blame her – he was the first wounded mortal any of you tended. It wasn’t as though you knew whether or not he would give his life for her.

A horse broke free from the palace stable. Aurora’s white one, carrying still-king John. He was not trying to cause harm to his people; he rode quickly, snatching a torch from the hand of an otherwise unarmed man.

The thorns Maleficent called began to close around the entrance to the bridge.

You waited. You had to see her. You had to know you were all coming.

John’s torch lowered.

The enchanted wood began to recoil at the touch of flame, seeking the safety of magical ground. His horse was as fast as the bridge’s recession into the moors, and you tried not to notice the proximity near to him that Ini flew, as though prepared to pick him and his horse up by the saddle and carry them across if he failed to move quickly enough.

“Maleficent!” Borra called for her, though your retreat was swift and the thorn-branches that grew along Ulstead’s banks were thick and high.

“Maleficent!” Aurora chorused, the terror in her voice plain.

Your eyes were fixed upon her as she lifted off on massive wings, the raven Diaval at her side. Philip held tight to her, so poorly armed that you thought, for a moment, that this battle had to be a joke. There was no way they hadn’t anticipated…they couldn’t have been fools enough not to suspect.

You almost didn’t see the priest notch an arrow.

“Dive!”

Her head perked.

Diaval dove.

And the iron arrow pierced the raven cleanly through.

You shrieked. Changed course. But Borra caught your arm, pulled you hard.

She dove for him, as you knew she would. As deeply as you hated it, as passionately as you yearned not to withdraw, you did. There had been enough sacrificing for a thousand lifetimes without involving those children.

She was begging, you realized once you both had cleared the walls of Ulstead and were back over the open air of the moors. Aurora was begging, crying, screaming at the top of her lungs. She’d heard you call to her mother and nothing else, heard the fury of your shriek, and must’ve thought…

“Can we make it to the nest?” you yelled over the winds.

“Not if we want everyone to live.”

Sometimes you hated how closely to your thoughts his ventured. Mortal or fey, Percival was one of you. John was one of you, and the moor-folk. There were too many of you to flee the moors. You had no other option.

You gave no protest as you circled, the moors’ sharp peaks emerging from the mist as though unveiled by magic. The weather would be kind to you tonight; they may not know you’d stayed until dawn, provided not many of you took the same route.

It was in your nest you landed with Aurora and her young. Your mate set her down in your nest-bed and joined Shrike with Percival, prying the young man’s armor off. Summoning the draping moss to grow more quickly on the chilly rocks so it might be used to staunch his bleeding. Your heart was pounding, and you held too tightly to Aurora’s son – you nearly forgot to give him over until her reaching for him reminded you.

She was pink-faced, her sobs raw and filled with terror.

And the pressure in your hips returned.

“Oh, skies,” you whispered. Not the time, offspring.

“Percy,” Shrike said, more softly than you thought she was capable. The roughness of her voice had grown warm, and you wondered, faintly, if she would be spared this fresh hell by her choice in mate.

Ini landed behind you, with King John clutching her armor for his very life. His fear was, even then, interlocked with fascination – exhilaration even, though inappropriate.

Oh, skies. The shifting got worse. You fought to remove your chest-plate before the heat of it got too stifling. That was all, you reasoned. Just the warmth. The activity was too much. You had to be mindful of them, of their presence inside you. They had no control over your temperature, their natural endurance against inclimate weather and how inhospitable a host it must’ve made you.

“Let me.” Ini joined them, leaving Aurora to the comfort of the king.

“My mother?” She asked them anyway, clutching her fledglings to her chest. “John, did you see my mother?”

“Your mother’s coming,” he replied, “Last I saw, she had Philip with her.”

“Diaval?” you managed.

The roughness of your voice drew Borra’s eyes.

And John’s. He went to you as though he was your kinsman, helped you pry away the bronze and free your banded wings. You flared them in hopes it might help you breathe, but the pressure only built. The pressure became pain, and you gripped John as he pressed a hand to your lower back like he knew the source of your discomfort.

“This may turn out to be a happy occasion yet,” he said, and you snarled openly at the half-jovial tone he managed.

“They’re coming,” Borra said, searching your eyes for confirmation.

The pressure gave way suddenly, and a pain much like the ones you’d felt before (though much, much stronger) overtook you. You knew your talons had to bite through the king’s robes, and yet he helped you to your knees.

“Tend her,” Ini said to your mate, too quickly. As though she could feel the urgency that had suddenly taken hold of you.

“Diaval!” you repeated. “He was shot!”

Aurora could’ve swooned. Damned skies, there weren’t enough of you. And how many of your men had fallen? What were your casualties? Aurora’s husband, her mother--?

“Horrible timing!” you hissed, shifting your talons to bite into the bronze at Borra’s shoulder.

He made a low sound of agreement. “We should name them after Conall.”

You listened for the beat of other wings, tried to separate the distinct pitch of the tundra and the forest, the fledglings and Udo. Skies and stars, you hoped there were no archers on the wall of thorns. You hoped the fog was thick enough. You hoped your people would run for the nest, go back into hiding, regroup and prepare all on their own.

It was to be a cause for celebration, the first child born outside the nest.

Instead, it seemed the whole of the moors echoed with your screams.

#M:MoE #Borra x Reader #Suren of the Cavernous Dark #part of the U.W. Universe #Dark Fey #Maleficent Borra #Borra Maleficent

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templarhalo · 6 years

Text

The Master of Mankind’s Return Chapter 2: Those left behind (Sometimes Little girls don’t just grow up. Sometimes we grow teeth)

Sorry this took so long. Kudo’s to anyone who guesses where the quote in parenthesis came from. @sisterofsilence @asklotarasarrin

Aella Hypatia Enyo was quite the ray of sunshine when she was a Ligo Aetos. Created by the Emperor’s own hand atom by atom eight years before Horus set the galaxy on fire . Aella was like all of the Ligo Aetos, frighteningly intelligent, very energetic and criminally adorable.

Aella, like all of the Custodes to be, had spent her whole life in the Imperial Palace. She had only left for a field trip of the Petitioner's City which had ended in fifty arrests, a Vindicare assassin running around naked, and Prefect Diocletian finding himself duct taped to the roof of a Land Raider.

On the brightside one of Lady Krole’s Raptor Guard was able to schedule a date with a rather attractive Culexus Assassin and the toymakers of the Petitioner's City were significantly richer.

“One day I'll be a Tribune like you.” Aella said as Ra tucked her in bed.

“Is that so?” Ra said with a smile. Everyone like Ra. Not only was he a model Custodes, but he had the coolest hairstyle and tattos ever. He never babied her or the other Ligo like some Custodes and he wasn’t a cunt like Diocletion was.

“Yup. I’ll be as good as you.” Aella said.

“I expect you to be better.” Constantin Valdor said as he strode into the nursery.

“Captain-General.” Ra greeted

“Just checking in.” the first Custodes ever created said.

Valdor stared at Aella. Unlike Ra who was in his robes. Valdor was in full regalia. His spear in hand.

“Do you know why I expect you to be better than Ra, Aella?”

“Because Tribune Ra does silly things and once went bungee jumping from the Tower of Hegemon?” She asked.

Valdor let out a small glimpse of a smile. Valdor rarely smiled. She heard some Custodes joke it was because there was a stick up his ass, but Arlette said it was because Valdor worried too much and focused more on what could go wrong to what could go right. .

“Not just that little one. I expect you and your fellow Ligo to be better than even me, because on your seventeenth birthday you will be responsible for the protection of the most important human being to ever walk among our species. You are responsible for someone who brings hope to trillions of human beings.”

“Why is everything a lesson with you sir?” Ra asked

“Because life is a lesson Ra.” Valdor replied

“What about Tribune Arlette?” Aella piped up

“No one is better than Tribune Arlette.” Ra said.

“Wiser words have never been spoken. Now come, there are other Ligo Aetos who need bedtime stories read to them and to be tucked in.”

“Captain-General Valdor?” Aella asked.

“Yes Aella?” he replied.

“Will you be there when I become a Custodes?”

“I promise i’ll be there little one. Unless you don’t want me to be there when you take up your Guardian Spear?” He said with another one of his rare smiles.

When Aella was eight she became Equerry to Arlette Augusta Amon Rakaposhi Gorro, Tribune of the Companions and Equerry of the Emperor of Mankind.

She was also the Empress of Mankind, which was a very well kept secret, The Ligo were told that whenever they were outside the Palace, they must never never call her Empress, othewise very bad people would come and try and hurt her, and Arlette would have to waste her time dealing with them instead of more important things like keeping the Emperor from setting his hair on fire or teaching them how to sing and the thousand other things she had to do,.

Aella’s duty’s included bringing paperwork and tea for Arlette, delivering paperwork to the Captain General and the other Tribunes, retrieving records and files for Arlette and helping Arlette decide when the Emperor should take his nap.

Aella was with Arlette when Malcador the Sigillite brought the news of Horus’ betrayal, She was there when the Custodians first returned from the Imperial Webway, bloodied and carrying their dead. When the Emperor fought Horus, Aella was in the trenches delivering ammunition and medicine and watching Custodians and Space Marines die.

The victory over the traitors was hollow. The Emperor was dead, if anything, his fate made Aella wish he was dead instead of the half life he would endure for ten thousand years.

The Imperial Palace became a shadow of itself. Custodes strode aimlessly their red cloaks traded for black shrouds. There were whispers that some of the Ten-Thousand had taken their own lives for failing to save their king.

When Aella Enyo donned the Auramite plate and took up her Guardian Spear, she did surrounded by ghosts.

Some of those who promised to be there when she became a Custodes, the Blackshield Endryd Haar being one such example had died honorable and valiant deaths.

Others like Ra Endymion had shrouded fates, fates only known to the Emperor and Diocletian Corvo, who took the the information regarding the Tribune who always played with her and the other Ligo, the one who read the most interesting bedtime stories and who made the best chocolate chip cookies and told the funniest jokes to the grave.

And some had disappeared into legend and whispers like Arlette Amon Rakaposhi Gorro,

And Constantin Valdor.

Him not being there hurt like a Bolt round to the chest. It hurt because he had promised her he would be there. Instead he had disappeared without a goodbye with Jenetia Krole. Wherever Valdor went, the Soulless Queen followed. The two were like peanut butter and jelly.

So Aella trained with the Guardian Spear she named Gatekeeper. She participated in the Blood Games. She patrolled the walls of the Palace and watched the Himalzia mountains. She saw the Imperial Fists train and patrol the walls their legion had died on.

When she was forty she became a member of the Companions.

Aella had wept when she entered the Sanctum Imperialis.

He looked like He was sleeping. Apart from His visible injuries and the cables that sustained His life, He looked like the man who had created her atom by atom. The man she and her kind would have given their lives for without hesitation. The man who had once let sit on His lap and listen to her talk about she didn’t cry when she skinned her knee during jetbike training. The man who soothed her nightmares and once let her watch as He worked in his lab on some new wonder.

The Emperor was not the skeletal decaying figure that He was when she returned to the palace many millenia later. He still looked like he would rise from the Golden Throne any second. He still looked who the man she once saw hugging and kissing Arlette in the hallways of the Tower of Hegemon.

The man who once stopped during a meeting with the Sigillite to feed some birds, laughed like a hyena when some of the older Ligo Aetos skipped Arturia’s class to paint Venerable Sagittarius pink and used His psychic powers to pass fruit around the dinner table.

After five years she was promoted to Centurion.

Seven years later she became Tribune of the Companions.

For eighty years she held the role once held by Arlette Amon Augusta Rakaposhi Gorro, the most powerful woman in the universe..

For eighty years she stood unmoving before her Emperor's entombed body.

And then He spoke to her. Not physically of course, but with psychic power.

Aella stood in a stone chamber. On one side He stood in the armor He wore during the Unification Wars. On His right was Egil Kanthor. An honorary Uncle to her and the other Ligo Arlette told her once. On His left was Arik Taranis. “He wasn’t as nice as people said he was.” Arlette said when she inquired about the most famous Thunder Warrior

Sitting across her King was Arlette herself. She wore a suit of crude power armor draped in furs and leather. Her hair was laced with strands of gold and silver. Clustered around their queen, were a pack of techno-barbarians and a man from Albia who had his hand on an arming sword. The man bore a resemblance to Constantin Valdor

The scene changed. A Space Marine in Terminator Armor the colors of the Imperial Fists Chapter lay on his back. The largest Ork Aella had ever seen loomed over him .

“Daylight Wall Stands Forever.” The last Son of Dorn said resolutely.

The scene changed again.

A man in golden armor held a sword in his hand. Millions of Imperial guardsmen and war machines surrounded him.

“MACHARIUS! MACHARIUS! MACHARIUS!” The Guardsmen chanted

“Cadia Stands!!!” a mortal Aella found rather handsome screamed. No other mortal soldiers took up the cry.

“Cadia is dead!” Abaddon The Despoiler replied. The former First Captain of the Sons of Horus loomed over the mortal. The Despoiler was a man who had haunted Aella’s nightmares after the Siege. A man who would have killed her if her Broodfather, Shield-Captain Asclepias Phoebus Reticulus had not taken him and the entire Sons of Horus 1st Company on with a Sentinel Blade in one hand and Castellan Axe in another.

The Warmaster raised the Talon of Horus.

The scene shifted again, the mystery of of Ursarkar E. Creed’s fate unsolved for the Companion until she saw him in the war council with Roboute Guilliman.

Aella heart lept with joy and anger.

Constantin Valdor lay on the ground, asleep. Next to him, Jenetia Krole leaned against some rubble, Veracity across her lap.

“Captain-General its me! Its Aella! Where are you?!! Wake Up! Wake up and tell me why you left!”

+Because I ordered him to + The Emperor of Mankind said.

Aella turned.and faced her Emperor.

“My king.”

Aella turned and found herself facing The Emperor.

He looked just as He did when He walked among the Ten Thousand, the only exceptions was that his black mane was shot with streaks of grey and white. hHs face was more heavily liked than it had been during the Heresy.

Aella kneeled instinctively.

“My king.” Aella said softly. She felt her eyes water.

“Do not kneel before me Aella. My time is brief. The strain of operating the Astronomicon in my physical state and limiting the fragmentation of my mind is taking its toll much earlier than predicted.”

“You must leave the Palace and find Constantin Valdor, Jenetia will need your help in keeping him alive until they can find Isha.”

“Who’s Isha?” Aella asked.

“ An Aeldari goddess of healing currently enjoying Nurgle’s company. As much as I wished to minimize my contact with the Aeladari, her power may be the only thing capable of saving my life.”

The Emperor’s left eye twitched, his right eye was still focused on Aella with an intensity that made her quiver.

“ I know Constantin promised to be there when you became a Custodian, I’m sorry he could not be there when you ascended into the ranks of the Ten Thousand.” The Emperor said.

“If I’d known he and Lady Krole disappeared to find a way to bring you back it wouldn't have hurt as bad. “ Aella said sadly.

“I ordered him not tell anyone of his quest. As I told Ra during the War in the Webway Each one of the Ten Thousand represents genetic lore acquired over many lifetimes. Each one of you is unique, a work of art never to be repeated. I am miserly with your lives, where I would spend so many others without a thought. I would rather have Valdor and Jenetia lose their lives than end up losing both the Custodes and Silent Sisterhood. I have looked into the future Aella. When the Storm gathers my Talons will both be needed to defend Terra again.”

“Than what I saw...”

“Was a glimpse into the past. And a glimpse into the future of the Imperium of Man”.

Aella pondered what her king has told her.

“ Then do you know what has happened to Arlette? She disappeared about twenty years after I became a Custodes. The Companions have no memory of what happened. One moment she entered the Throne Room, the next she was gone .” Aella said.

The Emperor frowned, his face wracked with spasms. Now both eyes were twitching.

“Strange. That’s not like her at all, although I went through an entire century without her. It was quite boring. I do not feel her presence on Terra nor do I feel it elsewhere.. But I would feel it if she was dead. “

“Thank you my king.” Aella said. She breathed a sigh of relief. Her Empress, her mother and teacher did not lie among the dead.

One less ghost to haunt her.

“If you return with Valdor, Jentia and Isha, finding her will be one of my first priorities. I have always found her, or she has always found me. We always find each other.” He said with a sad smile.

“Now go Aella Hypatia Enyo, my Tribune, my Companion, my daughter, one of my Ten Thousand, go and carry out my will. Tell no Adeptus Custodes of your quest. Find your Captain-General and do what must be done to save my life. Do what I created you to do. Already I have consigned a thousand souls and a thousand ships to the ravenous hungers of Chaos to commune with you and I must return to my duty as a beacon for humanity. But never doubt that I am with you or that I love you.”

The Emperor turned and walked away from Aella.

Before he disappeared and Aella’s mind was flung back into her body, the Emperor said one more thing to her.

“I am proud of you Aella. I know Constantin and Arlette are as well.”

Aella opened her eyes.

“Tribune?” Centurion Abrax asked

“He spoke to me. “ Aella said softly. Through her helm lens she digested data she had missed. Apparently only a minute had passed since she the Emperor has spoken to her.

“I have a duty I must carry out. You are Tribune of the Companions now Abrax.”

She than left the Sanctum Imperialis before Abrax could respond. Aella cut her vox off and removed her helm.

Her personal quarters were not that far from the Sanctum Imperialis. Her chambers were spartan, the only sign of individuality being a shelf of books, a four poster bed covered in fluffy animal pelts and thick purple sheets and a silver and jade hairpin that Valdor had made for her. that lay on her night stand.

She opened her armory, pulled out a Lastrum Storm Bolter and an Adrathic Destructor, than strapped both weapons to her thighs. Aella grabbed a bandolier full of extra magazines for her Guardian Spear and as many box mags for the Storm Bolter and Power Cells for the irreplaceable energy weapon she could fit in her belt. She strapped She opened her closet and draped a black fur shawl over her mourning cloak.

She moved to the door, pausing to stare at the hairpin.

She grabbed that and tucked it in one if her ammo pouches.

She did not look back as she left her quarters.

Aella did know this at the time, but her personal collection of books would end up in the possession of a Shield-Captain named Valerian. Her childhood journal would become a treasured relic of the Ten Thousand. Copies of it were made and became required reading for future generations of Ligo Aetos.

Aella moved unopposed through the hallways of the Imperial Palace.

Her destination was the Imperial Dungeon.

The portal to the Imperial Webway was guarded by a full squad of Wardens led by Prefect Atrops Lachesis Anake. She would later go on to become Lockwarden of the Shadowkeepers for 5,000 years before being mortally wounded by the Daemon Primarch Lorgar. She would be interred in a Contemptor Dreadnought and fall 3,000 years later on the final day of the 40th millennia against a band of Word Bearers attempting to summon Samus, the Daemon Prince of the Ruinstorm.

“Tribune.” She greeted.

‘Prefect” Aella responded.

“Your presence here is unusual.”

“I need access to the Imperial Webway. The Emperor spoke to me, I have a mission I must undertake.”

“Out of the question, Tribune, to open the Webway would put Terra at risk, it would make the blood price the Ten Thousand and Silent Sisterhood and the sacrifice of Malcador the Hero worthless. Tribune of the Companions or not. Unless our Emperor or Empress Arlette Amon Augusta Rakaposhi Gorro herself appears before us, you shall not pass.” Atrops replied.

Aella’s choler did not rise. The Shadowkeeper was just doing her duty. It was admirable, and in Aella’s opinion rather attractive, but that wasn’t the point. She had her orders and they must be carried out.

Suddenly, a sound louder than the warhorn of a Titan filled the area.

The Shadowkeepers watched as the door of the Imperial Webway opened for a split second. They assumed combat positions.

“Do not Vox the Captain-General!!! This is our King’s doing, not the Ruinous Powers!!!” Aella ordered.

She broke into a sprint towards the portal that was already beginning to close.

For a second there was blackness, than a deep orchid. The ruins of the Impossible City and one of the largest Titans ever created casted shadows that surrounded her. Aella assumed a defensive stance, pausing to catch her breath and asses the terrain like Aunt Arturia and Uncle Amon had shown her.

Nothing.

Nothing, but the long decayed bodies of fallen Custodes and Sisters. Nothing but the howling wind of a slowly crumbling dimension.

Nothing but silence.

When in doubt move forward. The old, often repeated axiom, was always good advice for any situation, whether it be advancing through an alien dimension to find the man whose genetic material was used to create you and save the most important person in the universe to trying to find a boyfriend or girlfriend.

So Aella did that.

#the master of mankind's return #legio custodes #Adeptus custodes #warhammer 40k #templarhalo's fanfiction #fanfiction #Lady custodes are best custodes #angst #stupid humor

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heir-of-talon · 3 years

Text

So I have commissioned these busts of the characters. I will post a bust of the person whose POV the chapter is written in ❤ Some may be spoilery but hey! It's just fanfiction 😉

HEIR OF TALON 2

Warnings: explicit/underage/violence

Summary:

After slaying Elder Wyrm and becoming CEO of Talon Ember works very hard. Slowly changes are creeping in, that threaten her relationships with Garret and Riley, her sense of self and her sanity.

Life at the top

Ember

I woke up with a yelp. The bed sheets and my shirt were rumpled and soaked through with sweat. I reached for a glass of water on the night stand and drank trying to wash away tightness in my throat tasting salt of my tears mingling with contents of the glass. It was just another nightmare I tried to calm myself, but at this point I had little doubt that these were true. As was ensuing weeks of captivity, when Gerard found more and more horrid ways to torment Ember after he learned, that she could heal quickly from injuries that would have killed anybody else. His lord and his men, formed a group around her, torturing her and slowly learning her secrets... Bloodlettings so they could bathe in her blood and become resistant to harm and disease. She has suffered it all without even feeling tempted to shift, because there inside her... a spire, only remaining reality of her happiness, of their destiny. No, she could still salvage him, she would endure and once he was out of her body she would shift and fly them both away to safety, to another world if need be, there was nothing she would not do for him, her little Dante. Her love though betrayed so cruelly have found new anchor and she would preserve.

And then... birth of their child, ten men with swords and kludges awaiting, hitting her, bleeding her and Gerard... he tossed his son into flames right after he nearly ripped him from her body amid her agonizing cries.

Hatred. All consuming, all destroying all mighty. She shifted and ripped them apart limb for limb, the men, the women, the children, anyone within the vicinity of the estate. She had nothing left for humans, the vile, cruel, mindless creatures...

These dreams always filled me with grief and despair. But I was not her. Or was I? Sometimes I was not sure anymore. I would better get up, it was going to be another long day.

Vipers were resisting my changes to the organisation and demanded to be allowed to form their own organization apart from Talon, my bare ass! I tossed my shirt aside and hurried to bathroom where I laid down in the bathtub and turned the water on. As warm water crept higher and higher covering my body I relaxed and garish details of the nightmare started to fade. My thoughts were sharp and clear again. No way I was going to relinquish control of Vipers, I will sooner get them all killed. But how do you do this exactly? The only way is to get them to kill one another and then maybe set the last one up to a surprise date with the Order? This would require some serious diversion though, to make sure they accept the orders and don't figure out the game too soon... Hmm maybe later, as the last instance, for now I would rather regain their obedience. Hot water have filled the tub to the brim and I ceased to think giving up to the utter delight of being submerged in relaxing warmth.

***

"Autumn and Cobalt are here to see you ma'am" my assistant's Rose voice sounded through intercom. "Let them in" I grunted, not at all happy. After momentary relief in the bath I have developed a nasty headache and painkillers did not really work on dragons. I was not sure if dragons should have headaches, I have not been sick one hour of my entire life before I have become CEO of Talon.

"Hello Firebrand, you look positively awful, what the hell happened to you?" Riley strode to my office and unceremoniously sat on a chair in front of my enormous desk pulling another chair closer and indicating for Autumn to sit next to him. This irritated me, I was the CEO, this was my office and he come without notice and behaved as he owned everything here. "I had a hard night" I said slowly "so this better be important" I gave them a tight smile.

"It's about my egg" Autumn said. "It's in hatchery now, and I don't want my baby to hatch there. I want him to be born free, not to spend his childhood in an isolated facility being drilled by Talon like we did." She talked calmly and was obviously at ease, while her ridiculous request literally made me seething inside. I waited till she was finished and replied. "How do you imagine to hatch a dragon egg and then rear a hatchling, unable to shift for two years and to stay reliably shifted for another ten in the middle of human society?" I asked calmly. "How are you going to feed it until it can shift? How are you going to avoid it being seen?". Autumn stared at me surprised by coldness in my voice.

"Easy Firebrand, this is why we came here. To find alternative solutions for these... challenges" Riley's voice was calm but he was now watching me with slightly narrowed eyes and I could hear him thinking hard. But I could not let Autumn take that egg away. These four eggs was all the organization had left. We've sustained substantial loses when the laboratory exploded, every dragon counted for survival of our race. "We were thinking about it for quite a while actually. There's four eggs that need to be reared. There probably won't be any new for some time now, as Talon's members will no longer be forced to mate and dragons breed extremely rarely on their own volition, being immortal, territorial and such. So we just need to provide these four hatchlings with a place to be in two years. It should not be that difficult..." "Oh you've got it all figured out, don't you!?" I cut him off. I was furious at his shortsighted sentimentality. "And who is going to provide these hatchlings with education and training? Their mothers, who's never set their foot outside of the breeding facility?!" Autumn looked as if I've hit her, but I didn't care. These hatchlings were important for the organization, now that the vessel program was abandoned. If they were raised outside of the organization will any of them wish to serve it? Will they even be suitable for our purposes? "What are you talking about?" Riley was furious now. "They will be instructed and influenced by our entire community. Just because you won't have total control over every moment of their lives, doesn't mean they will not turn out just fine". He took stunned Autumn by her hand and rose to his feet. "Come, we've must have caught ma'am CEO on a bad day." And then to me. "Do not think that you've heard the last of it Firebrand. This is important, this is the freedom we've been fighting for all this time. And I will not relent, just because you get to be the boss now!" He left with scared Autumn in tow leaving me to my headache and grim thoughts.

I pressed intercom button. "Rose? I am taking off the rest of the day. Tell the Archivist to schedule new date for meeting with Vipers" "Yes, ma'am." I dragged myself out of the office and staggered when the heat and sunshine of the day outside hit me. I could not remember being out in a middle of a day. Ruling Talon was consuming all my time and energy and throughout last few months I begun to see the point of the control and discipline within the organization, as dealing with Riley's rouges, Jade and other free spirits was clearly the most annoying part of my new situation. I could not remember the drive home. To a vast top floor apartment furnished by Rose to impress an empress as she has phrased it. I had no time to interfere and only added piles of discarded clothes to the setting. And these were cleared every day by a maid. So I entered my lavish suite kicked off my ballerinas, flopped on white leather sofa and closed my eyes.

***

I woke up with a start that made it clear, that my headache was still there. It was evening and someone was knocking on my door. I insisted on no Gilas in the building I lived in, just as I insisted on living among normal, if wealthy people, rather than in a fancy all Talon apartment complex few blocks from the HQ. Now I was suddenly reluctant to open the doors. "Ember?! Are you in there?" Garret. I sighed and dragged myself to the doors. "Hello commander" I tried to smile. "Come in and fix this shitty day". He did not smile just stepped over the threshold taking in my surely messy hair, crumpled suit and tired face. "What is wrong?" He asked dropping his duffel bag at the doors and pulling me into strong embrace. I closed my eyes breathing him in and feeling my headache and confusion melting away. But after a way too brief moment he pushed himself away to arms length and looked into my eyes. "What is going on Ember? You look so tired. And you missed the meeting today, the Archivist would not tell us anything, but Rose told me you went home feeling unwell so I come to check up on you."He said. "Wait a minute. What meeting?!" I felt an ugly suspicion rising. "Meeting with Vipers." He looked surprised and worried that I would ask. "The Archivist spoke in your name and got them in line, no worries. They are allowed to leave the organization under a long list of conditions, that shortly sums up to not killing, assaulting or terrorizing anyone ever and attending monthly meetings with their rehabilitation supervisors, new units consisting of one Talon employee and one Order's employee. Of course the agreement is only valid after you've approved it. From the looks on their faces no one is leaving for some time." He smiled to his thoughts.

I had plans for Vipers and this was not exactly what I would have gone for. I should be furious about Archivist bypassing me like that. But somehow it did not matter much. No, when Garret was here I was just relieved and thankful that things were taken care of. Suddenly I could breath freely and I thought that if only I could stay in his arms long enough I would heal and become whole again, the way I was before leaving Talon and the violent time that followed. I leaned in to kiss him and he answered crushing me to his chest. Then he lifted his head again and asked "Have you eaten?" Seemingly abandoning the topic of my bad looks. "No, I slept since noon. " Suddenly I could feel how hungry I was but at the same time I did not want to release him. "How about we order some tapas and eat here?" I pointed to the couch. He peered down at me and truly smiled for the first time since he saw me and I had a hard time trying to stay focused. There was my Garret, this intoxicating mixture of desire and disbelief in his gray eyes. "Give me a second to change, make yourself at home commander. Maybe order food, I want wine boiled chorizo, meat balls with tomato sauce and bacon wrapped dates big pile of each."

I winked at him and rushed to my bedroom and beyond to the walk in closet the size of an average apartment on Manhattan, as the real estate agent described it. There I quickly shed my office clothes and changed into oversized multicolor sweatpants and a knitted crop top. I turned and felt sudden apprehension about going back to the living room. My headache was on its way back and I just wanted to run as far away from Garret as possible, I sat on a chaise long in the middle of the closet. The boy was a nuisance putting it mildly, making me reckless and weak. The thoughts popped in and out of my head along with a passing stab of migraine until I heard his voice coming from somewhere close.

"Ember?" I exited the closet and found him standing at the doorstep to my bedroom. He quickly stepped outside, when he saw me, and I rushed to grab his hand. He sent me that worried look again. "Are you all right?" "Yes, was just changing." He looked me over doubtfully. "Food is here." He said. "Wow, that was fast." I chuckled slightly confused.

We ate talking about things we've been doing since we've last seen each other almost a month before. Garret got in touch with Order's Academy and tried to persuade them to provide much needed reinforcements sooner, than they meant it was possible. More and more survivors of Night of Fang and Fire surfaced all around the world and it was difficult to maintain his position as their leader. I sat buried neck-deep in documentation on Talon, that the Archivist deemed best suited to give me insight and understanding of Talon. I was also struggling to establish satisfactory level of authority. In other words both our lives sucked badly and we could not see the end of it. Afterwards I turned on some music and we went to the couch. Garret sat down in one corner and I nestled between his legs leaning sideways against his chest. I wanted to touch him, kiss him talk some more.

***

"Ember, better go to bed it's past eleven." Garret was shaking my arm lightly. Have I fallen asleep? Again!? "Don't leave me!" I blurted. "Stay with me Garret". He shifted under me. "My leg is sleeping. " He said and tried to stretch. "Let's go to bed then." I rose and he followed collecting his bag from the floor by the doors. I pointed him to guest bathroom and hurried to my own to brush my teeth. Then I slipped into the closet to change into shorts and oversized t-shirt with Toothless serving as pajamas. As soon as I slipped them on I rushed out and waited for Garret in the hall. He come out soon wearing only black boxer shorts, he was lean and tan, his hair bleached by the sun.

I felt my stomach twist with longing and dread, at the sight of him. I wanted him so much, yet I did not feel fit for passionate lovemaking. I was tired and haunted, Talon required things of me, that I doubted, he would accept. Going on like this was a torment for both of us, but we could not see any alternatives right now and I would not accept ending the relationship either. Garret was the only ray of sun in my existence, he loved me and I needed him, completely and desperately. Around him I was myself, battered and wan but myself, when he was gone I did not know who I was anymore.

I strode to him and hugged him tightly, which he returned with a purr. Then I caught his eyes and said solemnly "Garret I love you and I want to be close, but I have not been feeling well lately... And I know, that we don't see each other much, but I can't go all the way tonight. Actually I... might not want to do anything tonight" I felt lame, but he brushed hair off my temple, his expression soft. "It's okay. We are not obliged to do anything Ember. Let's get you to bed." He lifted me up and carried me to my bed, that was neatly made with fresh linens. He put me on the floor and lifted the comforter for me to crawl in. I laid down obediently and patted the pillow next to me. Garret slid under the covers beside me and the warmth of his body engulfed me as he put his arm around me and turned the bed lamp off. In the relative darkness of my bedroom with Garret so close all worries and problems seemed insubstantial, only his heartbeat was real, only the scent of his body and the warmth of his skin mattered. For the first time in weeks I fell into deep dreamless sleep.

#ember hill #fanfiction #julie kagawa #talon saga #talon series #garret xavier sebastian

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