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CHAPTER 10

Baron Richart was found in his personal study, the same place they'd sat before — a morose pall over the room, Steward Khanenko in attendance to his master, the tall, sharp-eyed man sitting opposite the Baron at the small table they'd all eaten at, a spread of cards in a complex game of strategy before them, two pipes smoldering nearby in holders. The foursome broke into the room at an urgent pace, Gram visibly under arms no less.

“Oh!" Richart exclaimed, face alarmed though his voice was muted, “Miss Shaw, you're awake and whole!"

“Aye, Milord nae fer Karnov's doin'," she said with a little bow and a grimace, “I 'ave tae speak wit' ye." she said, Gram sweeping into the room, his bec-de-corbin in hand as he began to pointedly close the shutters on the windows, checking every corner with a stoic expression, eyes alert.

“It must be of great import," the tall man said as he looked to the assembled members of his house with wide eyes, flicking back and forth between the stalking frame of his son and the little changeling. Lidia bit her lip and looked to Gram — who nodded to her.

“Cannae think o' a thing more important."

She told him everything. It took less time than she hoped, and longer than she wanted.

“I see you know the truth now," the Baron sighed, the party having assembled on the various couched. Gram remained standing at-arms, eyes and ears alert — Mister Koval had proven elusive to her senses beyond measure, and it did her good to have the Black Dog on alert as they talked. Alphonse responded with pain in his young voice.

“How could you keep this from us father? You told us mother had taken sick and had to live in seclusion!" The young man's voice bordered on accusatory, and tears brimmed in his eyes, sorrow finally forcing itself past his outrage from before. Richart's face fell, and the man looked over the brim of his glasses with sunken eyes full of old, familiar misery.

“Would you have preferred to know that your mother had been raped, and borne the perpetrator a child? That she had grown so full of guilt and loathing that she could no longer bear to look upon her bastard progeny?" He all but snapped, the first time Lidia had heard anything resembling bitterness in the gentle man's voice. He shook his head, sinking in his chair and pressing his fingers to his brow.

“No, no I kept her secrets, it changed nothing. Gram is my son, regardless of his sire, and I decided the best revenge was to deny Karnov his prize." He looked up and grasped Gram's arm fervently.

“I love you, my son. I never ceased, and I never pretended. That it served to deny Matevi his wants was secondary, you are my son, in my house and you never let that brute challenge that thought."

Gram's smile in response was as sincere as any she had seen in the privacy of their intimacy, and he responded as simply as ever — but there was power in the two, simple words.

“I know."

Richart smiled broadly, though his face was drawn. He sighed and took his drink from the table, the cards lying forgotten — Master Khanenko had stood and produced refreshments for all present, seemingly tasked by his lifetime need to care for his charges, the pall in the room had been held at bay by his libations and stolid presence. He laid a hand on Richart's arm, Lidia saw a lot pass between the two men in that simple touch… she did not think this was the first time the Baron had laid his hurts at the Steward's feet — and had his heart salved by his clear-headed outlook. She definitely liked the man.

“Louis discovered it in the typical way, he grew up. Became… curious."

“Nosy, is the word I would use, Milord," Khanenko interjected, his gaze raising to the others, “If I may be so bold, Milord?" he asked, and Richart nodded, clearly happy to be silent for the moment — the steward meeting the party's gazes, “He intercepted one of his mother's letters from the hawkmaster, and lifted the seal with a hot knife."

“He thought to simply learn of his Mother's thoughts, instead he learned of her anguish. He confronted me… and Gram, they were both young yet. I believe this is when I began to lose touch with him, and when Matevi began cultivating his influence." Richart concluded with a heavy sigh, Gram touched his father's opposite shoulder, raising his gaze to his brother.

“Louis did not agree with keeping it a secret, he railed against us both. His lot was a difficult one, the second son — and only true heir of blood — to a troubled house. We exchanged many heated words until he agreed to keep it from you and Colette, many of them quite unkind."

“I would never have thought he would forgive Matevi before I…" Richart murmured moodily, the lithe man seeming to buckle under the weight of the memories, sinking into his chair, hand across his eyes.

“I… I understand, Father," Alphonse said after a moment, his eyes on the floor, “So… mother is well?" he asked, and Gram answered as Richart's face twisted in grief.

“She is whole of body but… her heart and mind were scarred, she is as you remember her, but my presence tasks her… as it does Father, whether he admits it or not. She saw her violator's face in that of her beloved son, and it tore her apart. She bore it as long as she could, and I do not fault her that weakness… it is an unseemly circumstance."

“No… no son I have never…" Richart began but Gram shushed him with a gentle hand, turning his alert gaze about the room.

“Quiet father, it is of no matter. I know who I am, and I know you love me. It is enough."

Khanenko cleared his throat, addressing the room; “It was Gram's idea to forsake his inheritance, to in his words 'Remove himself as a piece to be played against us', a noble thought but as I said at the time and echo now, a foolish one."

“I did as was best for all at the time," Gram added, and Khanenko inclined his head but did not broker argument. Lidia sprang upon that.

“About that… how hard would it be fer loverboy tae reclaim that birthright?" She asked, and Richart looked at her with wild, surprised eyes.

“It is a matter of the Imperial Throne, we are one of the Twelve Shield Baronies, I draw my funding and support directly from the crown and its coffers, aside from mine family's own fortunes. It is for the good of Darrowmere that we are as firm a redoubt as possible, nothing short of an Imperial Writ from the King or Queen themselves would serve to restore his status as heir apparent," He explained, clearly having considered such things before… that, or Richart's sharp mind simply recalled the law that readily. Lidia bobbed her head a bit.

“Iffin' I could get such a fancy writ?" She asked, her eyes sparkling, voice low. Richart tilted his head, brow furrowed in consideration.

“It would incense both Matevi and Louis both… but it would be without question, the Imperial Writ is as good as the Imperial King or Queen standing before us and giving a personal decree, Gram would be heir once more, and any challenge or usurpation would be seen as a direct challenge to the authority of The Throne," he explained with a serious expression, “The Imperial Throne answers such challenges quite forcefully."

“Well, there ye 'ave it!" The little changeling crowed, “We jus' get a hawk out tae th' Majesties, and then tell Karnov tae shuffle off!" she said, and Richart sighed, shaking his head.

“It is not so simple, Louis would fight it, possibly split the household… and even if we could convince him or… geld his ambitions, there is no way we could reach them. Matevi has seized all communication in and out since leaving, we are confined here. His men outnumber mine two-to-one, and he has all our exits barred at nightfall."

“What about Simone?" Lidia urged, and Richart blinked, the changeling charged forward, “Karnov mentioned a monastery, an' you going north wit' her… it's an Order place, ye?" she asked, and Richart nodded, eyes flicking to and fro as he arranged the pieces in his mind.

“Yes, it is an Order establishment, managed by retired Sisters of the Ascendant Order…"

“Then surely they'd 'ave nae problem at all sendin' a hawk up tae th' Queen 'erself, ye?" she challenged, and he shook his head.

“No problem at all… but Karnov will never agree to allow me to leave, he is too clever by half — he will confine me here until I renounce my holdings and Louis weds one of his dozens of doxies he's sired," he all but spat, shaking his head morosely, “He has outplayed me, he is a careful, methodical bastard of a man… to think we were friends once."

“The Navel," came unexpected, Father Denis' voice, the chaplain had been silent the entire proceedings, accepting a glass of brandy and a pipe and simply sitting in attendance — it seemed the old scholar's mind had been working, everyone turned to him and he smiled lightly, “I am quite old, I was here for your Father's tenure Lord Richart, and I was a lad in training before then. The Navel has many paths, but there is one in particular that has been kept secret for many years."

Richart's eyes lit up, “That's madness…" he said, shaking his head and rising in his chair; “The caverns beyond the stores are wild, black as pitch and ever-shifting — we hear the cave-ins and rumbles every spring with the rains, none dare try the old escape passage, it is suicide!"

“Would that we had an expert tunnel-fighter who could see in the dark, no?" Father Denis answered mildly, and all eyes turned to Lidia, who swallowed, but grinned fiercely.

“Nae would be me first time in th' dark places o' th' earth," she said and Richart seemed to consider it but only a moment before chopping his hands through the air.

“No, I forbid it. I value your abilities lass, but I have grown fond of you and dare not ask you to risk death in the dark for such a thing… even if you can see and hear keen as any bat, the tunnels are a maze, and there are no maps nor guides…"

“I dinnae need a map! I can smell th' fresh air fer miles underground, jus' need a good breeze!" She challenged, leaning forward as Richart's gentle face twisted in frustration.

“Those caves have taken many young, brave soldiers and commoners alike, we keep it as such because it is so dangerous that none would attempt to backdoor into the keep lest they die screaming in the dark!" He hissed in return, eyes wild; “I have heard your stories but you know naught of this place, it is a death trap by design!"

“I can do it!" Lidia crowed, standing up straight; “Karnov violated me with nary a care, I dinnae give nary a shite about danger, I want a piece o' him in return!" She snarled, baring her teeth, “Gram and I cannae stay an' wait out yer lollygaggin' or some kind o' siege!"

“Why not?!" Richart roared, and she quailed at the first time the man had raised his voice, soft-spoken as he was, the tall, lithe scholar had rose and bellowed with such authority even Gram flinched as he turned his eyes between the two of them, “What manner of plot exists between the two of you, what fell things are you running from that time pressures you so?! Out with it! No more secrets, no more lies!"

“I am dying, Father." Gram answered in a small, calm voice that echoed in the silence. Richart turned pale as ash, turning his gaze upon the cavalier.

“What? What ails you — disease? Infirmity?" The man demanded with desperation in his tone, “Lady damn it all I have fortune and connections, I will send for the Lord Protector himself if I mus-"

“It's me," Lidia said suddenly, tears choking her voice. All eyes turned to her, and she felt small again. “I'm killin' him. Bit by bit, er'ry wee touch an' kiss." She met Richart's gaze with fresh tears in her eyes, jaw set. Gram reached within his shirt and drew out the amulet — the ossified egg had already accelerated it's rot, the crawling black veins had consumed half of it, the closeness of their intimacies seeming to push the creature inside harder.

“As the black consumes the amulet, so does my protection wane… we have until the summer's end until it devours it whole — and I go with it."

“… Why would you hide such things from me?" Richart asked, voice betrayed as he turned a baleful eye on Lidia, “You said you would not harm my family, my son…."

“An' I told no lies! It's nae my fault… 'tis me mother's blood, it makes me a… a thing like her, devourin' the ones ah love closest, drinkin' from them… I dinnae know til Gram collapsed one day on th' eve o' our journey…" She said in a voice of protest, “I would ne'er hurt Gram with purpose… I… I dinnae even realize I was doin' it."

“What is this token?" Father Denis asked as he stooped to peer at the egg, Gram shied back slightly… they had no idea how it would react to the touch of another.

“An amulet given to us by Baba Yaga, as contract for later dues."

“Baba Yaga," Denis breathed, eyes flashing wide before he crossed his brow with the sign of Eye and Horn, “Lady protect us."

“What does this mean?" Richart asked, the earnestness of her pleading seemingly having won him over, his face a mask of anguish as he reached out for his boy's face, bringing Gram close to him with tears in his eyes, “I only just now have reclaimed you my son, I can't lose you again…"

“We have to venture to the Black Forest, we must entreat her mother to undo this affliction, none else can proof me to Lidia's touch… and I would rather die, than live without her." Gram answered softly, Richart's tears spilled down his cheeks.

“What can this creature do for you that our Lady could not?"

“The Lady is… occupied," Gram said, closing his eyes as he felt his father's hands shake on his face, “She heals the hurt of our dear friend, he burned his very soul for us in that fell place… and she labors day and night to bind the ashes left to him back together. She cannot save me, father…" Gram said and the silence after could have been a knife for how it cut deep into Lidia's gut.

A sudden chill filled the room, Lidia's heart began to pound as her hackles rose, hair standing on end — none in the room missed it, Gram's hands going to his weapon as he too remembered that fell chill, the feeling of being small. Of being prey.

The presence of a sidhe.

The lights flickered and dimmed, several going out and casting the room into dimness, deep shadows lurking in the corners. Lidia's blade snapped from its scabbard, Richart and Alphonse sharing an almost twinned expression of wild-eyed concern. The air grew humid, fetid, the smell of earth, mossy rot and wet flesh pervading the chamber.

“Call upon her again, Priest. It will avail you naught," Came a voice from everywhere and nowhere all at once, deep and lurid, feminine and powerful. It poured into the ears like sweet syrup, “It will however, serve to entertain me as I walk through her protections as if they were but cobwebs."

The darkness seemed to deepen, and then it breathed. Within its blackness then opened two bright spots.

A pair of bright, slitted green eyes. Cat's eyes. Sidhe eyes.

“Lady's Mercy," Father Denis breathed, echoed by the pall of silence from the others. Soft, sibilant laughter drifted forth, a stately sort of sound.

The eyes seemed to move forward, and from the darkness melded a face. Pale as fresh milk, features impossibly perfect, symmetry to hairsbreadth on every curve and twist of flesh and bone. Beautiful to the point of madness, a red rouged mouth spread in a knowing smile above a sharp, aquiline nose and immaculate brow, free of the slightest wrinkle or blemish. Further the face emerged, the darkness becoming a flowing straight mane of inky-black hair that fell down the alabaster column of her throat — and feminine it was, supple breasts barely contained by the clinging shadow as the being strode forward, the long black tresses hugging and obscuring her form with perfect poise, forming a gossamer gown of darkness and gleaming shadow that hung to the floor, leaving naught exposed but face, throat and hint of bosom.

She was also the better means of twelve spans tall, towering above all in the room in statuesque horror of the other. The creature breathed deep and then smiled with wicked desire, exposing inhuman fangs and a subtly too-wide mouth.

“The scent of yearning, ambition, the blood of men of ideas and duty… a heady bouquet you have brought me to…" The Sidhe said, turning her gaze pointedly on Lidia.

“My daughter."

Lidia's eyes went wide and she began to shake as hundreds of memories unlocked, in the fuzzy places where she had seen but fog and seeming, in filled missing places… and one missing face. Green eyes and dark hair, lips always smiling, and hands too-long, too nimble upon her newborn flesh.

“Oh God… M… Mum…"

The creature laughed softly, raising too-long arms, her whole body seeming oddly overdrawn, stretched and supple as her black-taloned fingers curled in beckoning towards them all.

“Yes, I release unto you those memories… for it is time you Know me, as you once did. I have many names, each dear to me… but the one you murmured in babbling tongues and at my breast was Morgan… but you, Priest, and you Scholar… you know me better by another name." She hissed, directing a finger at the priest like a knife, and he choked suddenly — as if something had gripped him by the throat.

“Say it." The Sidhe demanded.

“Th-The Lenansidhe… The First Face of The Morrigan… Morgana, Q-Queen of Blood and Flesh…" Father Denis stammered out, the creature smiling pleasantly and releasing her hand, the old chaplain gasping for breath and giving yet another sign of Eye and Horn — to another dark laugh from the Sidhe Queen.

“Stilted and full with melodrama — but it will serve." She crooned, “I have come to see what delays my child, I have anticipated her arrival for some time… and it seems I have arrived justly as I am most needed."

Gram moved without thinking, without hesitation, the sound of his spear's blade ringing as he kicked the haft free like a shrill bell, the same stride bringing him between the towering sidhe and his family — gleaming steel blade leading, it's iron bane to the creature before it.

“Lay no power nor hand upon my family, your quarrel is with my love and I," he declared to her loudly, and the sidhe smiled at him broadly, her eyes alight with sheer pleasure as she swept forwards bonelessly, as if her legs beneath the gossamer gown were but mist and tresses.

“A knight-errant, with gleaming lance and all! Oh my daughter you have lead so very colorful a life!" She crowed, her cat-like eyes fixating on Gram up close as her nose hovered in line with the point of his bec-de-corbin's blade, “He is mighty indeed… I see in him a dutiful, savage shape that well befits his mantle," she quite literally cooed at him, too-long fingers flexing giddily like she were doting over a child, too-wide mouth spreading in a subtly too-wide smile… full of razors. Fangs and canines and incisors all pointed and edged like that of a predator.

“Come then if you will, Black Dog, test your fangs upon me…" she coaxed, taking one finger and placing it on the point of his spear — the flesh immediately sizzling, a tendril of noxious smoke rising from it as her head subtly tilted, eyes unblinking, and she guided the point directly over her heart.

“Have you the iron within to do it?"

“Do not! Gram, do nothing!" Came the strident, authoritative voice… of Richart. The bookish man stood, having gathered himself and laying his hand upon Gram's arm as he stood between the being and his family, “She is a guest, and we must treat her as such…" he said before turning his eyes to her and meeting that inhuman gaze with an alarming amount of iron of his own on display.

“… You are a guest are you not, Dame Morgana? I would hate to be a poor host, the Accords being what they are."

The Sidhe woman drew herself up short, her expression very clearly surprised… and then nearly orgasmic, sliding in closer to Richart with a nearly mad interest, grinning and nodding in approval.

“Oh you are a clever, well-informed man. I like you." she purred in approval, and inclined her head to him and gave a respectful curtsy of her gown even. Richart turned to them, his eyes full of triumph and wild with a backbeat of fear.

“The Accords, the Laws of Hospitality — a guest is to be treated with grace and accommodation," he said and pointedly turned his eyes unto the Sidhe Queen again, still unblinking, and he added pointedly.

“Until they prove no longer worthy of such hospitality."

“Guest nor host, my clever little bird," she crooned to him, reaching out to quite literally tap his nose with a feather-light touch in mock-play, “We abide by the Accords still, we are Sidhe."

“Ye said ye dinnae fear th' protections o' th' Lady," Lidia said looking up at her… mother, with wide eyes, of all the things to ask her first, it might as well be pragmatic. Morgan turned her eyes back on the little changeling and she smiled… it was sincere, almost doting. There was oddly pride in it.

“I do not. However, I do abide by her sister's edicts, as was our fealty sworn on the ebb of the Empty One's leaving… so long as those are canny enough to invoke them."

“The Seelie swore their fealty to The Learned One during the Verdant Crusade, they held the Black Forest as an impassable wall, and in return they kept it whole, root and branch." Richart explained… and Lidia remembered the book he'd been reading in the parlor. He was practically an expert, purely out of his own curiosity. She couldn't contain a brief, secret little smile. She also liked that man.

“All said and true, you all shall take notice that your minds are not crushed into gibbering madness, your eyes do not sop from their sockets, nor does blood run from your ears nor vomit forth from your guts to pour out over quavering lips merely from the mere weight of mine own presence — from that you may deduce that this is but a seeming, a projection of a thin slice of my being, cast forth like a gossamer thread here." she stated in an instructive tone, slowly drawing out the following line, “So do not be emboldened, little bird. Nothing final may be done to me this day."

“I would never presume such, Dame Morgana," Richart said humbly, his eyes followed her as he gestured to the high-backed chair where Mister Khanenko had been sitting moments before — as if reading his Master's mind, he'd not only stood but produced a small platter of refreshments.

“Apologies madam, I am but able to provide our modest scale of accommodations, however rest assured — everything is of highest quality," Khaneko said as if he were addressing any Lady of state, Morgan's eyes lit up again and she almost seemed to swirl through the air like smoke as she glided on long, alien limbs around the chair and the man himself, examining him up close before smiling and inclining her head — taking a seat instead in the adjoining chaise lounge, propping one long leg up out from beneath that strange gown of shadowy tresses — truly one could not see where her inky black locks ended and her strange lightless gown began, it was simply as if all that was not the creamy white of flesh was but void in space. Of that flesh, all were staring.

A long, white leg indeed was what they saw, one that ended in not a human foot, but a long, pale limb — digitigrade with a delicately long heel and three, powdery white toes that flexed unnaturally dexterous as her fingers had before. The sight was unnerving as it was fascinating, even Lidia's eyes were glued to the impossibility that was Dame Morgana, Queen of Summer. She smiled at them all, her too-long limbs undulating like a strange mixture of serpent's grace and hawk's intensity. Nonplussed, Master Khanenko turned on his heel and offered the platter to her.

“May I suggest the apple brandy, Dame — your daughter expressed a fine understanding of it's nuances."

With a delighted look of intense interest, she did indeed take the offered snifter — the palm-sized glass almost comically small in her over-sized hand, yet still she delicately swirled it across her milky palm and drew it up to her nose.

During all of this, Lidia and Gram had joined Father Denis and Alphonse more or less back as they had been before, Gram dutifully — but with clear trepidation — lowering his arms as he observed the spectacle that was his Fairy Mother-in-Law.

“Why's he callin' her 'Dame'?" Lidia asked the three of them absently, the urgency of their quest seemed rather… abrogated at the moment — their end goal was sitting there, swirling brandy.

“Per the Accords signed in fealty to The Learned One, they are afforded a technical standing as their own 'title' within our ranks, 'Dame' is much as we call the Lady as she is, both are queens in their own right, and titled in ours." Father Denis answered, his eyes as wide as anyone's, his hand closed over his holy symbol in idle comfort.

“Bart did refer to the Erlking as 'Lord of the Sidhewood' in passing more than once," Gram mused, Denis nodding in silent confirmation.

“It makes our dealings cleaner, they are afforded the grace of the gentry by default, it covers much of the hospitality contract they expect."

“Ye churchfolk sure are dead pragmatic sorts," Lidia answered as she watched her mother finally tip the golden beverage into her bloody red lips. A shiver traveled down her in a literal fashion, rippling along her sinuous frame from her sharp nose to those strikingly dexterous toes, and she made a sound of quiet approval.

“Oh a rare vintage! The oaks of the northern range, and the hibiscus from a field growing over a battlefield long still — I can taste the blood spilled upon their soil, the minerals of their bones…" she took a second sip and sighed in decadent pleasure, she turned her eyes upon Khanenko, wide and appraising.

“I remember the man who first bottled this, a near hundred years past. He was a gambler, and a poet. He died well. You look an awful lot like him…" she purred, and closed one eye in a slow, unnerving wink, before turning with such impossible smoothness that the shift in position almost registered between blinks — her eyes focused intensely on Richart again.

“I am well-pleased by your hospitality, little bird. I had thought such knowledge lost to men of station, so concerned with honor and romanticism now." she purred, inclining her head, the lithe man returning the gesture.

“I am gratified by that, Dame, but if you do not mind — your initial entrance suggested you arrived on shall we say, business?" Richart prompted, his language careful and precise in its wording. Lidia was impressed by how cannily he had shifted the tables on such a powerful being, Karnov's predatory charisma was one thing, but Lord Richart's savvy was indefatigable. In response, the Seelie Queen seemed to come to attention, her eyes tracking to Lidia and Gram once more with intensity.

“Oh yes… I did in fact come with purpose most specific, as stated — I have expected you anon, and it seems that reunion has arrived at something of an obstacle," she observed, swirling the glass in her palm and taking it beneath her nose as she peered closer at them both. Eyes flicking back and forth like a cat unsure of which mouse to pounce upon first.

“That is unacceptable, Mine Child — you must come to mine court within mine demesne, it is the very purpose for which you were born, I have long missed you — for you were always meant to come home."

Lidia paled under that gaze, but it was not fear of a monster, no… half of the fog that had fallen across her mind had lifted, while she could still not recall her father's face… she now saw her in her mind's eye, clear as day. A thousand little moments, a sudden kinship so real it was both aching and alien.

“I cannae stay with ye, Mum… but I need ye help, I'm hurtin' my Gram jus' by lovin' him — An' love 'em I do, Mum, I need him!" she begged, her fingers finding Gram's and lacing together, the tall soldier standing behind her proud and true. Morgan smiled all the wider.

“As true a desire as any, raw and unfettered — I respect it Mine Child, cherish it for I felt it for your father and enjoyed its every splendor… however brief as it was," she said and then her lips turned into a frown, “I cannot aid you here in this seeming — forgoing that I even agree to in the first place, that is a conversation and contract that demands face to face, flesh to flesh consideration." she explained in a terse, almost scolding tone.

“W-why would ye nae agree?" Lidia asked in a small voice, an odd stab of hurt twisting in her guts as the smile seemed to simply drain off the Sidhe woman's face, her milky features growing icy cold.

“I may simply decide it gratifies me to do so, do not question me Mine Child." she hissed, clearly displeased at the audacity of Lidia to dare speak out of turn. Gram's steely voice rang out in response.

“What business do you have with us then, if you will not minister to your daughter's needs directly?" he challenged her, and her eyes lit back up with pleasure, the smile returning with every glistening dagger that lay within.

“Iron within to spare, I like this one too." she cooed and spread her arms in a humbling sort of gesture, leaning forward, “Very well, as stated you must return to mine court in mine demesne, that cannot be obstructed, and I have come to instead facilitate your arrival with all available haste." she explained, grinning ever wider.

“Ye cannae make me leave the Lord an' his family tae Karnov, I'll die 'fore I let that murderous bastard 'ave them," she snarled in pure, heartfelt defiance — all fear leaving her with the certainty of her purpose. Karnov would pay for what he did here, there was no future with Gram with that animal in control of his estate.

“Ah yes, the Red Wolf is here is he not?" she cooed pleasantly, letting her brandy glass roll with impossible fluidity between her overlong knuckles, the amber fluid swirling and whirling with perfect balance, nary a drop spilling even as the fluid touched the very edge of the rim. “I know of him and his bloodline, a fierce creature. A powerful and dangerous foe my child — you choose your enemies with flair." she cooed and her eyes lit with feral, primal fire, her head tilting subtly as she stared intently.

“I like that one as well. He is like Us. Purposeful."

“He's a right bastard, an' I dinnae care tae hear how ye admire 'em for it," Lidia returned, stepping up towards her mother, the fae creature's eyes widening in what should have been shock at the lip, but instead was glee, Lidia rejoinder continuing as she did, “Ye aren't th' only Fair Folk I've met, I've seen how ye think, I know ye're gonna tell me sommat about his 'predatory ways' an' I dinnae care one whit, ye want ANYTHING from me — yer only gettin' it at cost tae him an' his plans."

The finality in her tone, and the way she rose to all but shout at the titanic, alien woman seemed to cause her to almost burst, there was pride in her face as she leaned down, all teeth and wide, unblinking feline eyes to her daughter.

“What vitriol, such an acidic, hard-edged hatred _ ." she cooed, tapping her long, taloned fingers on her teeth as an unearthly titter rang out through the air, _“Mine Child indeed, I bask in the fires of your malice and hear its crackle upon your tongue. A proper hatred should be nourished and tended like a fine garden, its harvests awaiting the pristine moment of their purpose."

Lidia paled a bit at such… praise, but her teeth set and she nodded, not backing down from this alien creature with her mother's face, the memories still fresh and yet… old, well-traveled. She raised her chin.

“S'how it has tae be, I will not let him have this place."

Morgan bowed her head with a fresh smile, sliding back into her place on the lounge with a liquid sort of motion, swirling her glass again before taking another long inhale of its scent, her eyes closing slightly in pleasure.

“Ah… your father's resolve, I did carefully pluck such things from him for you, it is good to see it has taken such strong root, Mine Child," she cooed and looked around, eyes alighting on each and every person in attendance for a long, intimate moment, “Such interesting allies it has brought you, nothing so expected and droll as mere soldiers…"

“An' ye haven't see th' half o' it," she said, realizing as she had with Baba Yaga that she had the elder fae's interest, and that was their bane as much as iron, her eyes flashed, “Yer wee lil' babe has faced th' Empty Queen, th' Erlking an' Baby Yaga — an' doin' so wit' the biggest heroes ye'd ever seen."

“Truly?" Morgan hissed with a tone dripping with desire, Lidia nodded.

“Oh aye, I call th' very Champion and Husband o' th' Lady in White brother, an' he lil' sister tae me, I learned me tricks at the hands o' the Guildmaster o' Thieves in Lachheim, an' learned me letters an' numbers from one o' The Learned Ones own alchemists," she said, realizing the boasting was drawing more and more of her attention, oh she wanted a powerful little child did she? She'd get her wishes the fae way — she'd manipulate the living daylights out of them.

Each passing word had seemed to rouse more and more of the eager desire from the Fairy Queen, until she was practically salivating as she regarded her offspring, a new glint of respect in her eyes behind the naked avarice, she rang her talons off her glass in curious, fidgety energy, her eyes dilated to slashes of intense interest as she stared.

“Mine Child, busy as a bee… Baba Yaga… mmn…" she mused, and nodded, a look of vile hatred passing her face, “Yes I thought I tasted that old frozen hag's touch upon you… but it was isolated, distant…" she seemed to sniff the air — literally — and her gaze snapped with unnatural, almost bird-like crispness to Gram — gaze boring into the amulet at his chest. She made a hissing, alien sound of displeasure through her teeth, crossing the distance between them in another rippling, fluid motion, half-stepping, half-leaning down to him to peer at the amulet.

“_ You,"_ she hissed, eyes flicking between his and the amulet; “So this is how the old witch hid you from mine sight…"

“My life is preserved by the amulet, I would prefer if you did not… mishandle it, Dame," Gram said with icy cordiality — cordiality that twisted Morgan's mouth in a new, less friendly smile.

“Nay, Black Dog, I have no desire to abrogate our time together just yet… it is this that has allowed you to be so delayed, and it is this that drew me here in such grand repose," she purred, eyes still hard as blades as she stared into his heart through the egg. Lidia swore she say the amulet squirm beneath that stare.

“I am dreadfully curious to what will happen to you when we remove it, I see the hollow in your core Black Dog, a man all but emptied of your pretty, pretty light, all but for a thread that drifts gossamer from here…" she purred, tapping one talon to his lips in an uncomfortably intimate manner, before she turned her gaze long and lurid, eyes bright with that glee of predation — to Lidia.

“… To there, where it burns and roils with the little lights of a few others, including our Red Wolf." She cooed, swirling back to gaze down to her daughter, that solicitous, knife-edged smile wide once more, “Tell me, Mine Child, was his essence sweet? Was taking from him a pleasure?"

Lidia rocked a bit, eyes filling with unwanted tears as she was forced back into the still-fresh memory of Karnov's assault upon her, and how easily she'd given in to the hunger of her nature to defend herself. The second time someone had asked this of her, and she set her teeth against the violation once more.

“Only in hurtin' him fer hurtin' me, Nae ever goin' tae take pleasure in drinkin' the life from another…" she said, a different answer, but… the only one she could give here. Morgan's eyes flashed, and her teeth showed as she leaned down, the very light around them seemed to dim as the glow within her own eyes seemed to grow ever more luminous, and her bright, painted lips twisted around one, singular word.

“_ Liar." _

The word rang through the room like a bell, the tone one of accusation and smug certainty, Lidia to her credit did her best to keep a stiff upper lip and firm jaw to the accusation — but was betrayed by her tears, rolling fresh down her cheeks unbidden and unwanted. The Fairy Queen smiled and there was no warmth in it, only a creeping alien desire. She said nothing more and simply glided back to her offered seat, leaving the crowd all staring at her and Lidia alike in turn, the little changeling feeling an awful sense of having been peeled apart, spread open heart and innards for everyone to look at. Damn her.

“Excuse me, Dame Morgana, but I must ask… why is it so important that Lidia comes to you, in your demesne?" Of all people — Alphonse had come to her rescue, his face pale and eyes wide — but his slim body rigid as an iron bar as he posed his question, once again showing to her that Karnov was not the sole source of Gram's bravery, they were all of a piece here. Morgan to her credit, turned that gaze upon the young man, and only leaned closer by posture, remaining seated — this still put her mere hairsbreadths from him, her presence suffocating and total, but it was a clear mercy for the young man.

“What an excellent, and very forward question," she purred with approval, “Audacity is an attractive trait young man… perhaps I will have a place for you as well in due time," she continued, setting her glass aside — such a promise putting a look of alarm on the young scholar's face, she propped her head in her hands as if she were about to impart a mere girlish secret, the impish smile so like Lidia's own it gave the changeling the shivers.

“You see little hatchling, I am a Queen of Fairy, of the Seelie court in particular, we sisters three present three faces, and I am of them the First and most free. That means your little friend, Lidia, Child Mine is herself a princess of sorts — and with that station, comes ceremony."

“Are you suggesting you are bringing her home to crown her?" Alphonse asked, furrowing his brow, “There are no Princesses of Seelie that we've ever known," she answered him with laughter that rang like fingernails drumming on broken bells.

“No, little hatchling, but you lack the ability to truly understand what I need her for, so approximations must be made. She must present herself as she is to be made whole by me and mine, for she is an unfinished thing, a fruit that was left to ripen — and ripen she has!" She crowed and turned a warm gaze on Lidia.

“She is a rare thing, a special thing, a thing I made just for her father. Never to see its like again."

The Dame drew back, drawing her hands together with a little clap, her smile once more growing hungry and edged, “Well! I have indulged the many of you well enough, I am at ill-comfort stretching this seeming so long and far, let us be to the business of extracting Mine Child from this place."

“Is it wise to be so frank and well… loud, about our intentions?" Gram asked plainly, raising an eyebrow to the powerful fae, seeming content in his current defiance of her plans and showed no lack of desire to continue to do so. “Karnov's ears are sharp, and his men numerous in these halls. Mister Koval in particular knows much he should not."

“Mn, Mister Koval. That one is indeed far sharper than many mortals I have encountered, he has… altered himself, in some way. He is still mortal, I still glimpse his life unraveling as he breathes and blinks, but there is more to him now than a mere man." She said and then made a dismissive gesture, “Some mortal concoction, nevertheless — my glamours have already stuffed cotton in their ears and blinded their eyes to this room, even were they to stand outside the door they would hear naught, and then be possessed by a powerful desire to simply be somewhere else."

“How d'ye know all o' this? How long have ye been watchin' me?" she asked, demanded even, Morgan's attention turning to her and her eyes growing icy again.

“Mine Child I have never stopped watching you… however, as of recent I have been forced to be more personal in my attentions, thanks to the meddling of that old witch," she explained in a tone reserved for a mother explaining things to a slow child, “Yet I have been with you closely since you passed my threshold in the old cottage."

“Papa… y...ye knew?" She breathed, old pain and new pain weaving together. She felt as if she'd just gotten her feet under her, and yet was cut down again by grief. She was a God-damned mess.

“Who do you think grew him such lovely flowers, and wrapped him forever in the boughs of the forest he loved?" The Queen answered with adoration throbbing in her voice, “He remains with me and my forest forever now, the trees bear his blood and flesh, and in them he is immortal. Someday perhaps another woodsman will fell one of his trees, carve a small figure from it — and in that he will live on, as he lived himself." There was a satisfaction in her voice as she said it, the creature's entire being seemed flush with the memory. She smiled and steepled her long, taloned fingers beneath her chin.

“I have observed you well in these past weeks, in these past days. You exhibit much of the traits I so carefully sewed into your being, in all things," she said, her eyes twinkling with debaucherous glee, “The cries of the Black Dog writhing in your grasp spoke truth to that well enough."

Lidia flushed brightly at that, as did Gram and frankly, the whole room colored a bit save for Master Khanenko, who took in the carnal knowledge with the same steely poise he had the rest of the ordeal.

The Dame herself merely smiled wider.

“I am quite proud of how you've used my gifts, Mine Child. To spite the seats of power as you have, it is poetic, the stuff of legends and song," she purred, eyes flashing as she leaned closer.

“Allow me to aid you in writing one more."

“What do you offer us, Dame Morgana?" Richart engaged her, much to Lidia's relief. The fae turned her head, bird-like and quick, eyes flashing again as she seemed to visibly shift scripts again, once more the canny, solicitous manipulator.

“I offer you my power, it is a grand thing — best applied subtly," she explained, and leaned forward, teeth once more exposed wide and gleaming. “Speak to me of your limitations, and I will offer my might in lightest of touches to…" her mouth pursed in a sensuous, dangerous smile.

“Remove them."

“Kill Karnov an' his weird lil' spy, an' give the keep back tae Richart square." Lidia's voice rang out directly, only to be met by silvery, mocking laughter from the Seelie Queen.

“I said with subtlety , Mine Child. The Red Wolf has done me no harm directly, it would be terrible manners to simply strike him down."

“He hurt me, innit that enough fer ye?!" Lidia challenged, and Morgan reached out and tapped her nose in a mockingly doting manner in response.

“To which you hurt him in return, that lick of his life's essence you stole was not a mere trifle. He has naught the attention of Queens of Faerie to abrogate it," she answered smugly, tilting her head birdlike as that wicked smile spread across her face anew. “You swallowed up a few years of his life, ne'er to return. I call your debt to him for his rakish behavior square."

The room went eerily still at that revelation, Lidia herself staring wide eyed, her hand unconsciously laying on her stomach. Morgan grinned wider.

“Oh yes Mine Child, that which we consume does not merely vanish, you stole several summers from him that he can never recover — and you will live in his stead. As will that of our dear Black Dog if you do not accept my offer."

“Ye said ye'd nae help…" Lidia hedged, and the alien creature wagged her finger.

“I never said I would not, simply that I may _ _not. I am a mercurial creature and do not pretend to be otherwise."

“You have blinded and deafened them to our presence here, could you extend such an effect?" Gram asked, stepping to stand beside his beloved, putting his arm around her as they both stood tall before the Dame, she regarded them both with a loving expression and a smile full of knives.

“I can, a glamour is no effort even for this seeming at this distance… I would however, point out that such a thing would be obvious, and the Red Wolf and his minions would notice your absence immediately…" she caution, her mouth smiling but her eyes not. “He is the vengeful sort, I do not doubt he would make examples were you to be discovered."

“Could you perhaps glamour one of us to appear as Gram and Lidia for the duration?" Alphonse interjected, getting her attention and wide-eyed smile.

“Oh yes, yes I could… I like you little hatchling, devious and thoughtful," she gushed, slithering over near him and tapping her talons on her teeth thoughtfully; “However… could any of you adequately pose as the lovers two?" She queried, turning her gaze and swinging her whole body in boneless, impossible movements to bring that great, beautiful, terrible visage to theirs in intimate consideration, “You would be under scrutiny from the Red Wolf and his altered man, you would be expected to maintain a facade of love and fervent intimacy… and also, distance."

She seized upon a piece of fruit, a simple apple from the nearby tray, perched on the tips of her talons she met all their gazes equally; “I am great and powerful, but glamour is just that, illusion and misdirection," she purred and waved her hand across the apple — and in its place sprang up a wondrous gem of perfect, intricate cut, a colorless diamond the size of a man's head cradled in those claws before her.

“Magnificent," came Richart's quiet exhalation, Morgan's smile turned soft as she regarded him in particular, it seemed she had a soft spot in her icy fae demeanor for men of such creative, doting bents. She remembered her father as much.

“Indeed, a fantastic facsimile — but only such, and no more," she said with finality — and her talons closed shut with such sudden, unexpected violence that the sound was like that of a snapping beartrap — and the glittering gem exploded in a gush and mess of pulped apple flesh and dripping juices.

“It is a seeming of sight and sound alone, to draw too close and be too attentive, then the seeming shows its seams, and I will tell you outright such a creature as this Koval is canny enough to find such things," She explained, casually licking the mess from her talons with a long, black tongue that snaked from her mouth like a greedy serpent, the act drawing the eyes of every man in the room with a mixture of fascination and revulsion that seemed to amuse the Seelie Queen as she slowly, languidly withdrew the alien organ into her lips with an audible wet slurp. Alphonse himself paled visibly.

“O-oh… that is a very good point, Dame Morgana — perhaps another tack can be taken?" He ventured, returning to his seat to a cold titter from the queen, who slid forward to caress his cheek unbidden, her wet talons gliding across his virgin flesh solicitously.

“Be not shamed, 'twas a canny mind to consider it. You are a bright star in a sea of mediocrity, and I find that quite compelling…" she purred to him, drawing her talons under his chin and causing him to shiver at the attention. Lidia set her teeth, and squeezed Gram's hand as she watched, the young, untried man seeming to float back to his seat at the combined touch and praise, a worrying focus the fae queen was placing on the young man. She turned her gaze to the others, a knowing smile on those rose red lips.

“What else do you offer?"

Silence reigned a moment as the room fell into introspection, considering their options. Lidia met her mother's eyes as she settled into her chair, watching, waiting. Patient. She wanted to hate this creature, to revile her… but at the same time in this moment of silence… she wanted to go to her, to embrace her, to cry into her bosoms and be held tight. She longed for the mother she was denied… and in her she saw a sliver of it, a fragment of the mother the streets had not been. The mother she'd felt when Eleni had doted upon her in Bart's home. Her guts clenched and she leaned into Gram with a shiver, his arms tightening around her. He never left her alone, even in the dark and cold… she paused then, eyes widening.

The dark and cold. The caves. She pulled away from Gram, walking towards the Seelie Queen.

“Th' caves, supposed tae be an old escape out o' the keep," she said, getting everyone's attention as she looked around, “Ye said it was too dangerous fer us on our lonesome, can ye guide us safely through?" she asked, turning her attention to the fae woman, who smiled broadly.

“The cold and dark places of the world are what I was born in Mine Child, I am a creature of the liminal places between light and dark, the quiet between torrid breaths, and the ragged gasps twixt screams both pleasurable and pained — such a thing would be simple to me as you finding your way to the privy in the dead of night."

Lidia's eyes lit up and she turned to Richart, who was similarly galvanized, rising to meet her gamely.

“The glamour could cover your exit, give you enough time to be well and truly gone before being discovered, after Karnov's… assault, I can easily play you off as taken abed in shame, it would sate Matevi's proclivities long enough," he agreed and Gram turned his gaze worriedly on his father.

“He will be a savage when he discovers our absence," but to this, Richart merely shrugged.

“A savage he remains, I have handled him before. We were boys together, once long ago. I can muster the courage I once had to spite him as I once did."

“Such bravery, little bird. You are stalwart in the face of fear when your nest is disturbed, an admirable trait — one I see fit to reward," Morgan cooed and raised a finger, “I can do better than a glamour in such circumstances, I can put forth a Murk over this place."

“A murk?" Lidia prompted, doubtlessly for her mother's theatrics benefit. She'd learned with immortal creatures that they seemed to love nothing more than educating a mortal. They were all a little egotistical like that, even the Lady loved to tell stories.

“A rarely-used talent, something taken as spoils of war. It is a bit of the Empty One's magics, stolen from her minions at mine own will, divested from her debased monsters and made of use," she explained with gleeful flashes of eyes and fangs, the idea put a chill down the spine of everyone in the room, Lidia first and foremost, having experienced the Queen's power upfront and personal, Morgan continued as she upraised a hand, palm flat, long, avian talons forming a cage.

“It is a curious thing, but perfect for mine own demesne, it is a deeper darkness, dark like no emptiness can be — for it is not void, it is matter ," she cooed, and within her palm suddenly descended an inky, impenetrable orb of shadowy stuff, it undulated and floated about the cage of her claws like a living thing, seeking to fill all spaces — restrained only by her power. No light crept into that space, nothing penetrated the blackness so total as to make nighttime seem bright.

“What does it do to those whom dwell in it?" Richart implored, his voice worried and stony-hard, with a smile the Seelie Queen gestured to Khanenko.

“It is of no permanent harm, would the fine majordomo care to test it?" She challenged, the stalwart Steppefolk man drawing himself up straight with a nod of his head. Morgan smiled at that.

“So dutiful, I will remember your service to your master in times anon," she cooed and gestured him forwards, the steely manservant presenting himself to her, hands folded at his back as he inclined his head.

“As you will, Dame Morgana — do take care, my attire is well-sorted and I would loathe it to be damaged," he stated and she tittered at him softly, leaning down and pressing her lips to the top of his head dotingly.

“A fine man, as you know I cannot lie — you will be unharmed, but the Black Dog may wish to stand ready to catch you," she said, and then gently lowered her hand to cover the man's head, the black inky mass fully engulfing him from neck to crown. Khanenko stood stoically, his shoulder shifting to suggest a curious tilt of his head.

“What is it like?" Richart's voice all but whispered in morbid fascinating, the manservent clicked his heels.

“It is dark, a darkness I cannot imagine but… it is not unpleasant, if anything I find myself relaxed… drowsy… even…." The man slurred, and his body went slack. In an instant, Gram was past her side, spear practically spinning in place as Lidia scrambled to catch it — as Gram caught Khanenko, gently cradling him as he fell slack in his arms, looking up with wild, furious eyes at the fae woman — who simply laughed softly.

“Worry not, he is unharmed, merely sleeping — he shall wake in moments now that he is clear of the Murk — it is a tool the fell eyeless ones used to hunt, their priests calling forth substance of the Astral and blanketing it across the world at large." She explained, and Lidia perked up — remembering the lessons of The Lady and Naima both.

“The Astral Tapestry, th' place o' dreams…" she breathed, and Morgan nodded.

“Dreams, and ugly, forgotten things cast adrift. The place the Empty One snatched her creatures from, unwanted, unloved things one and all. I stole this from her, and it fills my demesne in places I wish mortals to ne'er tread." She purred, causing the black little orb to vanish with a flourish, leaning down to peer at the slumbering steward.

“It tracks to legend," Richart said, having left his chair to kneel down by the comatose Khanenko, who slowly roused and blinked himself awake as the younger man smiled and cupped his cheek in a brotherly fashion, “To wander too deep in the Black Forest, is to fall to darkness and sleep forever. Many tales of men who slumbered beneath a dark tree in that wood, only to awake and see that years had passed, and they had aged not a day."

“Precisely thus, and I shall flood the grounds with my Murk, and lull all but those under mine own protection to deep, preserving sleep as I guide you through the cave — but you must be swift," she cautioned with a raised finger as she looked between Gram and Lidia, “For it will tax me greatly, and I will not be able to sustain it long so far from mine own seat of power, it will require swiftness and sureness of feet and resolve."

“Aye, I've got that aplenty," Lidia all but growled. Her mother only smiled wider.

“What is to be the cost of this help?" Gram asked, nearly demanded from where he sat on the floor, Khanenko's groggy form slowly rising with Richart's and his aid, not long discombobulated before he resumed his straight-backed, crisp posture, smoothing his hair and clothing. The Seelie Queen turned her gaze upon him.

“Ah… wise to the ways of Sidhe are we? It is a small favor, and in return I ask but a similar favor in turn from this glorious house," she crooned softly, turning her gaze to Richart, “Would you carry such a debt to be declared anon? A favor for a favor is a common human fondness."

“I have shed blood and honor for my lands and their people, I could ask such a thing of none other. What price would you have for the preservation of my family and those we are responsible for?" Richart answered without hesitation, eyes once more gleaming with that fire deep from within. Morgan's smile turned sensual as she slipped forwards.

“What to ask indeed, I am tempted by your clever mind and handsome body to simply demand of you the old Tithe of Blood and Soil," she cooed and reached forward, slowly caressing his face in both her hands, “A child borne of your loins would be the most beautiful flesh I have shaped in some time…" she purred and Richart in spite of himself — clearly shuddered in pleasure at the caress, a weakness making his shoulders slouch.

“Dame Morgana," He began in a small voice, “I am flattered by such an offer, it has been long since I have felt the warmth of another in my bedding, or the touch of a woman's hand… but I would be remiss in oaths I still hold, were I to give such a thing to you," he said, raising his hand and revealing the simple golden band that glittered there still upon his left hand. Sadness swam in his eyes, at war with the need she'd awoken.

“Ah," she crooned, her face close to his still, talons stroking down his cheeks, “A stoic resolve, love unforgotten by time and distance, such conviction only makes you all the more desirable…" she purred and before he could protest, she drew him forwards by a clawtip beneath his chin, and her mouth, too large and demanding, gently devoured his own. Richart stiffened, and his fingers worked and clenched as he did his best to remain steadfast, but Lidia could feel that thrum of energy as her mother drew from him, her tender touch and deadly talons enfolding him in her arms as she kissed him, not as a conqueror or a violator — but as a lover would, her tongue clearly worked past his lips and into his mouth, and her tall frame seemed to enfold him a moment. The man's eyes rolled back with fluttering lashes, and his resolve buckled for just a moment as he fell slack in her long limbs — the Seelie Queen cradling him intimately as she slowly, luridly drew herself away — her lips left his mouth long before her tongue did, the powerful fae gently laying his insensible form back in his chair as that obscene black organ drew the final inch from his trembling lips, sliding back into her own with a shiver of clearly sexual delight.

“It is done, little bird," she purred in a voice like sweet honey and sharp wine, caressing the man's face once more as he slowly came back to himself.

“Father!" Gram barked, rushing to his side, as the queen simply shifted to loom over them both from behind the tall-backed chair, Gram cast angry, accusing eyes upon her, hand curling into a fist as he looked to his polearm still in Lidia's — and she merely tittered in response.

“I… No, Gram… dear boy… I am…" Richart touched Gram's arm weakly but managed a smile. Morgan ran her tongue across her lips.

“He is well, the debt is paid. I took but a single year from his life, and that power shalt be what summons the Murk that shields you from your enemies — he agreed to the debt, and I took only as was needed to square that." She smiled wider, approval all over her face and every edifice of her body language as she laid her talons down over Richart's chest in a solicitous, nearly possessive manner.

“He is a good man, a strong one — as a father must needs be."

“A year…?" Richart breathed in between panting, dazed inhalations, his color returning and his manner pinking up almost the moment her tongue had left his lips, Lidia noted down hideously how her mother had such fine control over the power she so viewed as a curse — those cavorting talons dragged across the man's chest from the open throat of his robe and yet color and vitality continued to return to him. Gram had nearly bled out just being near her, but Dame Morgana, Queen of Summer could simply spin the life from someone out at will and touch, all she needed it seemed was some form of permission.

Lidia's eyes widened suddenly as it dawned on her. Oh God. That's exactly how it had worked… she had only been able to drink from Karnov because he wanted it. He'd invited her in. Her mother's eyes met hers and it was as if she could read her mind, how that serrated smile spread with such smothering smugness.

That monster. That bitch. She had guaranteed three-fold that the only one who would ever taste her fangs would be the man she loved most, or sought romantic comfort from she supposed. None else would invite her in. None else would want her.

In that moment, she hated her. Hated her with ever fiber of her being. The bright Sidhe eyes of Morgan flashed back at her with horrific understanding.

“A single year, little bird. You will have a great many yet, I will assure that tonight," She purred directly in his ear — her eyes never leaving Lidia's — the still-dazed man shivering as she plucked his still-shocked senses with an overabundance of delight, “I find all of you far too interesting to allow any harm to come to you now."

Her alien gaze tracked to them all, that smile somehow growing sharper, “We are to be family, afterall."

Her claws slowly slid away from Richart, clear reluctance to relinquish her prize evident in every motion, flowing back to stand before the hearth, back-lit eerily by the flames. Lidia joined Gram at his side as Richart righted himself fully in absence the Dame's presence.

“A year… a debt readily paid," He said, reaching up and grasping both Gram and Lidia by the ears, bringing them in close to him, brow to brow, “For my son, and my newest daughter, readily paid a hundred times again."

Gram smiled, in fact — he broke. Lidia had rarely seen such a fracture in her beloved's cool mask of control, but the tall, mustached man crumbled for a moment into smiling, thankful tears as his father — blood be damned his true father — stood up for him.

“You," Richart said, squeezing his slender fingers in her hair as he turned his gaze to her, “You watch out for him, a Wife covers her Husband as He covers Her. A woman of my household must be staunch and true, and you have yet to be anything else to my eyes."

It was her turn to break. A thin final crack in a nigh-shattered mask, she nodded against their joined brows, and Richart smiled, gathering them in his arms.

“God has blessed me with such riches to match the troubles with which I was burdened."

He gathered himself for a moment, simply hugging his son and newest addition, the brush with mortality clearly rattling him — but also exposing the bright, shining core of who he was. Lidia was not in a hurry to leave that embrace, she had missed it so.

“I grow weary of this seeming, Mine Child — let us be to the planning of things," Morgan interjected with surprising softness and consideration after several long, intimate moments. The quiet gently receded, and in that moment… she loved her, a little. She felt the old care in that voice, and it warred in her mind with the monster she knew her to be. Could she love this creature she called mother? Could this creature love her?

“Aye, lets."

~ ~ ~

They convened around the table again and talked the particulars. Morgan idled nearby, never too close to intrude, yet never fully apart as they conversed on timing and direction.

“So we play as if it is an unexpected invasion," Gram asserted to a series of nods from the rest of the table. The best way to sell it they'd decided, was to play to Karnov's biases — blame the sidhe in Lidia, and let Morgan simply be Morgana.

“There'll be panic fer real then, we'll need tae think o' the Keep an' its upkeep, cannae jus' drop er'ry soul in place an' expect tae find th' house standin' afterwards," Lidia interjected, the thought on everyone else's mind as well. Alphonse tapped his chin, musing.

“If we can isolate ourselves, shouldn't we be able to simply warn the common folk and staff to shelter in some way and simply let Karnov's men take the brunt?" he ventured, and the table all nodded, brows mutually furrowing.

“How will we protect ourselves from this Murk?" Richart asked, the scholar's hair undone from it's customary braid and the collar of his robe open, the man seeming… haggard, but almost a bit wilder, freer after his encounter with the Dame. She smiled in answer to his question.

“It is seem not seeming, matter — do not forget. It is a lazy substance, it will not abide running water nor too narrow a crevice. Close your shutters and stuff the edges of your doors with wax and you will be unaffected." She crooned, leaning in with crossed arms and a lead of sinuous throat and bosom, “Those of you I deign to cover I will grant a boon of the gifted energies little bird has so lovingly provided," she purred, eyes flashing with an eager, predatory gleam. “It will provide you a covering to the Murk, it will ebb around you harmlessly. One must secure the fort in such hostile circumstances, no?"

Father Denis of all present, nodded — his stoicism having returned as exposure hardened him to her antics. He was a stout churchbell of a man in spite of his gentle bearing and slight being. “I will see to the common folk, they will be frightened and they will seek the comfort of God." Morgan's eyes lit up and she swirled close to him on sinuous limbs.

“Dear me, Priest — are you volunteering to put yourself 'neath my thrall and power, if even only for a time scant as a touch?" She crowed at him curiously, and the elderly chaplain smiled softly through his snowy beard.

“It is but for a time, God knows my heart regardless of what I do with my body in His service."

Her smile could have cut the table in twain with its edge.

“I… I also, volunteer," came… little Alphonse, Lidia's eyes snapped to the young man with concern, but Morgan had already twisted, alighting upon the back of his chair like a heron perched in wait for prey. All eyes were on him as he stammered a few times, before simply clearing his throat.

“I wish to see it, my eyes are young and eager for experiences. If I am to make a life recording and cataloging this world I wish to see it, raw and unfettered," he declared fully and from his chest. Lidia's mouth dropped open.

“A bold and proud declaration my dear hatchling, I like you indeed," she crooned to him, drawing her taloned finger along his chin with a sound that was somewhere between a moue of delight and an avian trill. “I will put on a phantasmagorical performance, just for you dear little hatchling. One so young should have such and more." She raised her head from his, her weird, boneless grace bending her more like a saurian predator than a feminine temptress — yet both overlapped one another, bleeding danger and sensuality even Lidia could detect.

“Are there any other volunteers, other than the most obvious?"

Khanenko raise a hand and inclined his head, “I will assume presently that the Master will be of the anointed, and he will need my aid in managing the crisis, manufactured or not." he asserted, and Richart sighed, turning a lazy look of mock-chagrin to the Dame.

“I assume it was implied, but if it need be voiced — yes I will stand sentinel as well, it is my doing and my lands, I would tend them," the Baron said, Morgan smiling and giving him a little courtly bow in acknowledgment.

“Well then, I see no need to wait to impart my boon to you all, it is a simple working — but it has a caveat," she purred, sliding closer to the table, eyes narrowing sensually — smile widening hungrily.

“It requires physical, intimate contact — if but for the briefest of moments."

The expressions of the party were one and all alarmed a moment, but the mysterious fae woman offered nothing but another sawtoothed smile as reassurance, Richart stood from his seat first, brushing his loose blonde mane back from his face as he approached Morgan directly.

“I shall again bear the brunt of such firsts for my land, please do not make a habit of requesting such favors Dame," Richart spoke to her frankly and equally as she uncoiled herself gamely from her place on the lounge, eyes alight with glee.

“Oh little bird, I expected nothing less," she purred knowingly, the smile not touching her eyes, the predatory glint was hungry and craving as she slid her hands, talons and all across his cheeks, her spine curving impossibly as she knelt down to his level. Her scale was alien and surreal, head and shoulders above the men in the room — she was also simply larger, her eyes the size of hen's eggs, fingers large enough to enfold one's head. She was much like Baba Yaga and The Erlking had been, true giants. Simply built at a grander measure. She drew him in close, that majesty of presence adding a striking contrast to how she enfolded him within those too-long fingers with their too-long talons. She kissed him again, this time long, measured and focused — Richart held his poise this time, even as it became clear that long, black tongue had worked its way into his mouth again. His shoulders buckled a little… and an unearthly ripple ran through his flesh in a literal fashion, his flesh was as wax, melting and reforming in a ghastly, shuddering wave across his form from crown to heel — As if he were but a thing of liquid and filmy seeming rather than flesh and bone. The Baron arched in that grasp, his mouth gagged by her continued ministrations — whether he was rigid with pleasure or agony was anyone's guess.

As quickly as she began, she drew back from him with a smile and smug, slitted eyes, the Baron stumbled slightly on jellied legs and unsure feet, covering his mouth as his head swam — face flush and body shaking, he looked to the others and nodded, drawing himself up straight. The other men exchanged glances, none without trepidation. Morgan smiled.

“Who is next?"

Lidia turned her gaze away from much of the rest of the exchange, a sort of familial embarrassment folding together with alien queasiness in her guts — she felt the voyeur entirely, as if she were witnessing these men completely bare. Father Denis and Mister Khanenko both weathered their encounter with Morgan more or less in line with Richart's example, both seeming a bit more unsettled and ill put-together in the wake of the act, even Khanenko's stately poise had not fully weathered the throes of a Queen of Summer's magic. Yet even as she had turned away from these good men being so… used, she could not tear her gaze from things as Morgan and she both were shocked to see little Alphonse muster his courage and stand up before Gram, the latter a dark-faced stormcloud of displeasure coming and going on the matter.

“I will not go last, my dear brother has borne the brunt of much for me as it stands." He said, not meeting anyone's gaze directly, there was almost a challenge in it as the towering sidhe woman glided over to him with curious, boneless grace, kneeling down to gaze at him, chin propped on the backs of her hands as she bent low to meet his eyes directly.

“Boldly stated, little hatchling. Your body is that of a boy but your bearing is as a man… or at least, a seeming of such," she cooed at him in a low, raw tone rich with promise and a hint of a tease. Her eyes flicked to Gram and then back with predatory attentiveness to Alphonse's now pale face, even his ribald embarrassment unable to rival the chilling presence of The Other.

“I have no lack for sterling examples to follow," Alphonse replied with clearly strained stoicism, the fae woman tittering softly at him as she shook her head.

“No… not yet, you follow still, but your feet were made for another path different from the Bird and Dog, hatchling," she said with such certainty that it chilled Lidia to hear it, “The Black Dog stands sentry, the Little Bird tends his nest — but you, hatchling — your heart is beautiful…" she purred framing his face in a lattice of talons, the touches upon his flesh feather-light as she leaned closer, lowering her voice to a sultry croon. “A questing heart, seeking but a grand adventure to follow. Nothing is more magnificent, a heart even the great Red Wolf would struggle to equal."

“I… am simply doing what is right, nothing so grand," the youth hedged, and her laughter answered him, the towering Seelie Queen drawing him almost unnoticeably closer, her tone intimate and almost girlish.

“As is the rejoinder of all with such hearts, I find appropriate modesty as enthralling as a well-earned boast," she cooed and tilting his face to hers with one talon, both hands gently cradling his face as if he were the most delicate treasure of creation in her grasp, “I am delighted to be the first step on this grand adventure… I do believe I promised you quite a performance, no?"

Before he could answer, her touch grew more firm, inviting and demanding all at once, cradling his face, she pressed her massive upper body to his, molding him against her curves, turning her face slightly to his in gentle coaxing. He all but vanished into the inky blackness of her gown and mane, her mouth at first simply hovering in place near his, eyes flicking rapidly as she took in his apprehension and eagerness — a black tongue gently moistened her lips. Lidia could not tear her eyes away even as the deep sense of wrongness twisted in her guts. She had said it would be a performance.

The sidhe woman was gentle, possessive even as she melded her mouth to his, there was that curious thrum of energy that Lidia was positive now only she could feel, like calling to like she guessed. Alphonse practically melted, his first kiss — like as not the first touch of any woman for the young man — done in such an overwhelming, almost despoiling manner. She drew the act out in slow, languid motions, her mouth gently warming to his in undulating little workings that sent shivers through the young man as his hands and fingers shook — unsure what to do with them as he half-stood, half-laid ensconced against the rapacious creature, only to have Morgan gently take them and lay them across her heart. Lidia caught Richart's gaze and saw in it a haunted glance, the grim reality of watching this creature do to his son as she'd done to him was doubtlessly one of the queen's many hooks… or maybe she just got a rise out of it. She hadn't been above such things yet.

It was then, she administered her blessing. Lidia and Richart both unable to look away as Alphonse gave a soft mewling sound of surprise that melted into a sound of submission — Lidia once more able to see her work that salacious tongue into the young man's mouth, an invasion, a violation, but one Alphonse seemed unwilling, or unable to resist. He went slack in her arms then as she ravaged him now, bending low to cradle the dazed boy as she poured that boon into him through the snaking organ, and she saw that hideous ripple run through him, as she remade him just ever so slightly with the energy she had harvested earlier. Lidia watched Alphonse's foot kick gently as she did, toes pointing and body arching… and then it was over. She withdraw her lips from his with a faint pop, her sharp teeth on display in a ravenous grin as she then slowly, pointedly wound her tongue back out of the youth's mouth, letting it linger on his lips a moment longer before snapping it back into her mouth with a shivering chatter of knife-edged fangs.

“Oh… I was your first…" she cooed, and her eyes flashed with the fresh gleam of predation, “A delightful gift you've given me hatchling, I will be the standard to which all future conquests are measured…" she hissed and dipped low, the dazed boy only just away as she added in a low, sibilant whisper.

“Measured, and found wanting."

With that, she gently set him back into his seat, and even smoothed his hair with her taloned fingers as he slowly found himself, he had the bravery of the larger, more seasoned men — but not their fortitude, and the Seelie Queen was a formidable force to be immersed in as such. Her unblinking gaze turned to the remaining couple, swaying aside as Richart and his fellows moved to gently tend to Alphonse, who only moments later seemed able to come back to himself, blinking and accepting a glass of water as the overwhelming, overbearing presence of the Sidhe left him — standing before Lidia and Gram.

“Very well, Black Dog. I will not insult you by presuming you will not go before your betrothed," she said, offering a hand to him instead of the more… invasive methods she had offered the others. Gram met her gaze levelly, his jaw set and eyes hard. Lidia squeezed his hand, offering him a little smile. He let himself be pulled away, but only just — forcing Morgan to meet him halfway, a subtle manipulation that got an eyebrow raised on the Seelie's impossible features.

“Oh the quality of men my progeny attracts, truly she has had her pick of the litter," she cooed approvingly, tilting his chin to hers with a talon, Gram's face not moved as he folded his arms behind his back in a firm, dutiful posture — as if he were under inspection by a superior.

“I consider myself the blessed of the two of us," he disagreed in a level tone, getting a soft titter of delight from the Dame.

“Such devotion, a heady bouquet," she purred and drew in close to him, her lips parting, “Let us sample it…"

The kiss was brief and intense, Morgan grasping him not as a lover as she had the other men, but by the laces of his jerkin, pulling him towards her with a fierceness that made it clear this was a taking. Gram to his credit simply closed his eyes and let himself be acted upon, Morgan's mouth crushed against his and there was a perverse sort of joy in her eyes as she grasped his head with her other hand and forced her tongue into his mouth, the motion obvious and violent… Gram still did not struggle as she ceased taking, and instead gave. The shuddering, waxy ripple suffused him… and seemed to struggle as it reached the amulet, faltering until Morgan jerked him closer — and all but put that snaking organ down his throat — the line of remade flesh shuddering anew and concluding it's journey down his body, as if the working upon the creature in the egg had fought back against the boon. She drew back from him with a satisfied gasp, her tongue lashing out from his lips like a whip as she unhanded him roughly, letting him stumble back, coughing and shaking as she grinned at him.

“I hope the kisses you reserve for Mine Child are sweeter…" she crooned at him mockingly, snapping her sinuous tongue back into her mouth, “Lest I be forced to discipline you for providing my daughter with so ill-talented a suitor."

“W-worry not, Dame…" Gram coughed, drawing himself back up and wiping his mouth with a thumb, “I reserve for her all sweetness and gentility, of which you received none."

The Seelie merely smiled at him. There was hunger in the faint chatter of her saw-edged teeth.

She turned her gaze then upon Lidia, sweeping closer to her daughter who blanched a bit, holding up her hands,

“Now wait a spell…" Lidia hedged, and Morgan laughed, leaning close to her with none of the avarice or wanton lusts in her gaze, indeed she knelt down, chin propped up on her talon's tips and her expression gentle and mild, she raised one eyebrow.

“You are so like him, Mine Child — even beyond the bits I molded and sewed in myself, my favorite parts of him, plucked like fruits from his dreams and desires," came the unexpected response as Gram and the others met in the background, drinks and worried expressions shared. Lidia met her mother's gaze with wide eyes.

“Ye… ye mean papa?" she asked quietly, and the fae nodded.

“Lachlan was a special man, quiet and strong. I watched him for many years from the woods before I finally decided to reveal myself to him. He had a lonesome heart, but it was so very large that even after I made my home in it, there was room for one to spare." The musings came with a shiver of memory that was at once, too human and wholly alien as she raised her clawed fingers and gently touched one to Lidia nose, “Room enough for you."

“Why cannae I remember him?" she asked quietly, and her mother's smile turned sad.

“I kept those memories… just a little longer, it is different for us Queens of Seelie, memory cannot be fully shared, for me to give you them is to lose them myself in some capacity… and I am covetous of the memories of my beloved." She answered with surprising honesty and vulnerability, the creature cradling her hands to her heart where she knelt down before Lidia. The little changeling moved a step closer, lowering her voice.

“Did ye… really love him, Mum?" she asked in a small voice, feeling strange asking such a thing — and calling such a being something so mundane, but there was a genuine shiver as the creature answered.

“Yes. I loved him every way he needed, every way he wanted and deserved. He was a special thing, once in a mortal's lifetime do we meet such a creature, and always only by chance… or, fate perhaps," she mused with a smile both winsome and genuine. She laid her talons over her heart, crossing them in an almost girlish manner.

“I keep him here, please Mine Child…" she answered with clear pain in her voice, “Let me keep him a little while longer."

Lidia was shocked by that, her eyes wide and new tears wanting to spring forth. She had not expected such a response, a dismissive, cold or even cruel mockery of such a thing… but not this. Never this. The Seelie Queen was as all true Sidhe, unable to lie. She could bend the truth, or leave out parts, but never tell a wholesale falsehood. She had loved her father, loved him still as only a Sidhe could, in ways she couldn't fully understand. That settled something in her, and her next question sent a tremble through her frame and a tremor in her voice.

“Do ye… love me?"

The Queen of Summer's expression was crushed, and fury and grief warred across her features.

“Who said I do not? Was it you, Dogs of the Pale God?" she snarled, whirling on the men, her eyes flashing with rage unholy and inhuman, whirling on Gram, “That frozen hag north then? Who has spake such lies?"

“No, no mum!" Lidia begged her, reaching up to pull the Sidhe woman's arm, getting her snarling, furious gaze to lock on her eyes, “Nae lies… jus'… worries, ye left me all alone. Alone an' scared, fer so long…" she felt tears streaming down her cheeks, but her tone was quiet, simple. Morgan's fury faded, and of all things — shame, crossed her face.

“Mine Child… the depths of Faerie are no place for a child with a human soul, my rivals and subjects both would have warred to winnow you apart, wrest you from my grasp and turn you into a tool against your purpose… no, there was no place for you at my side. The world of Men was the only place you could be."

“I dinnae care why ye did it, I asked iffin' ye love me," she said in a hurt, empty voice. Morgan drew herself close, shaking her head in a soft motion of denial.

“No, no, no, Mine Child, do not speak of such things so… I have always loved you, flesh of my flesh, essence of my essence, you are a grand testament to my beloved and what he would want, and the virtues that made him special." she cooed reassuringly, and stroked the tears away from her.

“He would be so very proud of you."

Lidia cracked in half then, and pushed her way into her mother's arms, she sobbed gently, clinging to the neck of this towering creature… and she remembered doing so before, sobbing over a bee sting or skinned knee as Mum made it better. She felt the Seelie woman kiss the top of her head, holding her dearly close.

The sensation began immediately, a humming friction that set her teeth on edge and made her bones seem to vibrate beneath her flesh, she arched and gave a soft strangled cry — only to be shushed and held gently against her mother's bosom. She watched that rippling liquefaction suffuse her flesh, and with horror felt it wash down her in a cool wave from crown to toes, she writhed and wriggled at the invasive, overstimulating sensation of every nerve, fiber, and span of flesh was reworked and rebuilt with the magic of the boon. She whimpered a little as it lingered and she felt she might never be whole again for a terrifying moment that stretched on forever… and then it was over. Panting, she realized she had been blind for several moments after, and blinking away spots she looked up at her mother.

“Th… that's it?" she asked incredulously, and her mother smiled — that cruel, devious edge having returned.

“There are many kinds of intimate contact, Mine Child. Not all must needs be sensual."

Lidia's expression of mute outrage must have been truly something, how her mother cackled gaily in response.

The Sidhe woman kissed her brow again, and set her lightly on her feet, turning to regard everyone with an almost smug sort of poise as she gazed at them with unblinking eyes and naked avarice of varying flavors.

“Yes, yes, this shall do well and true. My power will be strained and this boon will last but a short time — it decays rapidly the further we are from my power — so do be swift with your planning!” She chided them, holding up a single, long digit.

“A full turn of the moons is all I can muster, come the next midnight I shall return to you in full, and flood this fair hamlet with my Murk. If you are not ready by then, I will simply tend to what is mine,” she cooed with flashing eyes — the darkness returned, filling the room around her like the light itself simply died. It wrapped and blanketed the Seelie Queen, her form slowly seeming to thin out, growing insubstantial until all that was remaining of her within that deeper darkness were wide unblinking eyes and fierce, inhuman fangs suspended in a growing, unnatural shadow.

“Be swift, dear ones — I will not wait, nor will your enemies!”

The disembodied smile grinned hideously wide in the engulfing shade, then simply closed and was no more. The oppressive weight in the air lessened, and with it went the artificial gloom, returning them all to the state they’d been at before… moderately altered.

“My dear, I welcome you in our home at any time with open arms and a warm heart,” Richart said in a mild, strained tone, catching Lidia’s attention over the table.

“However, your mother is going to have to send ahead from now on.”

The soft chuckle that spread through the room was needed as summer rain. They had much to do, and little time to do it — but time enough for levity.

Tomorrow would come all too soon.