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With the initial tensions quite soundly shattered, the engagement rapidly turned into a retelling of tales yet again, the story of their meeting, their fight against the Empty Queen… and eventually, the circumstances of their journey to the Black Forest.

“You're dying." Simone said in a flat voice, Lidia and Gram both nodded. The distance between them had shrank, both the lovers two and the Lady Simone as well, occupying closer spaces at the great table, and Lidia more or less occupying much of Gram's lap as the conversation went on. Lidia laid her hand on the amulet on his chest, and even now it was almost entirely black now, perhaps a quarter of it's surface free of the crawling rot.

“When it turns tae black wholly, it dies an'…" Lidia trailed off, looking up at her betrothed.

“… I go with it." Gram concluded simply. Simone's face was a thundercloud, dispensed with her wimple, her pale blonde locks tumbled down around her face in a ragged, almost wild manner — which did much to add to her look of ire.

“More than ten years apart, and you don't lead with that?!" she exhaled raggedly, threading her fingers up through her hair, drawing herself up in a deep, steadying breath. “Oh you are your Father's son, it is just like Richart to soften a blow with a long lead-up." She swore, glaring at him with anxious eyes.

“I've only just gotten you back, I will not let the machinations of some fairy strumpet take you from me, if you'd mentioned that straightaway I'd have turned over the flagstones to aid you!" she hissed and shook her head, letting out a breath. “Baudelaire men, all of a piece."

“She's got ye there, loverboy." Lidia said, smiling up at Gram — who himself had fallen into a rare, genuine, full-faced smile, so full of warmth she saw Richart's good heart and warm soul shine through the Steppefolk blood.

“I suppose she does."

“What a mess we made," Simone lamented., shaking her head. “Matevi would never have been so bold had I stayed to deny him his prize, to think my dear Louis has fallen to him too…" she made a miserable frown, Gram threaded his hand through Lidia's hair.

“We both did what we thought was best for everyone… I'm my mother's son as well it seems." He added, and she gave a rueful smile, leaning her chin on her upturned palms.

“And now you've got me, I suppose that's only just." She said, and the misery faded as she watched the pair of lovers simply exist together a moment — Gram stroking Lidia's cheek, his long-fingered hands easily caressing her from chin to ear as she lay with her head across his broad chest, she'd slowly invaded his lap as they'd talked, acting as a buffer and place of comfort for him as the pair had reconciled over his tale.

“You've become such a man, my son," she said after a moment just… watching with distant eyes, “You two… you are so beautiful together." Lidia flushed and pulled away from Gram a bit, feeling suddenly… inappropriate, but Simone raised her hand.

“No, no, you may not believe it now but Richart was as affectionate, if not more," she said, and her smile turned lopsided, “I suppose I am enjoying it a bit vicariously through the memories of my dear husband holding me in the same sort of way."

“You miss him." Lidia said simply, and Simone nodded.

“God's Blood, yes." She agreed, closing her eyes. “I miss my Husband, my sons… my daughter I barely ever knew, Lady forgive me for my weakness." The older woman closed her hands in prayer, and Lidia smiled.

“I'm fairly sure she would, iffin' ye want me tae ask." She offered with an innocent little smile, and to that the baroness gave a shy little smile.

“I suppose you are in a rare position to actually do that, are you not?"

“We're somewhat familiar with The Lady at this point, I concur that forgiveness would be readily forthcoming… you are not the only mother with regrets in that meeting."

“If what I've learned from the Ser in attendance is true, that's a mild assessment," Simone observed and shook her head, “I crave absolution… but I was not well, Gram. Abbot Giles and the Sisters quite verily put me back together once I arrived… my mind, was…" she closed her eyes, and it was clear as she laid her hands over her face she was forcing back another bout of weeping.

“My mind was not whole, I was not whole. It took much to bring me back together."

“Come home, then." Gram urged suddenly, and her eyes snapped open. Fear lived there.

“I couldn't." She said automatically, folding her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. “I couldn't…" The mantra seemed old, rote in her saying of it. Gram caught her attention.

“You could, we could stay together. Be a proper family again."

“You know not what you tempt me with my son…" she breathed and closed her eyes, her face a mask of stillness for a long moment. “I dream of my home, but I… I could never face them. Face him."

“Please, consider it." Gram continued, leaning forwards, “My children should know their grandmother."

“Children!" She exclaimed, eyes wide, flicking to Lidia splayed across him, she laughed nervously.

“Nae, none yet — I've been a proper, upstandin' lass_…_ but I promised him a boy," she said and bit her lip, looking up to him with a faint flush of pleasure, “I.. like th' idea o' being a mother."

“Even with Matevi's depredations, being a mother was the greatest joy of my life, not even a monster could rob me of that." She said and her eyes misted up as she looked at Gram, “Seeing you staring up at me with those serious little eyes from the swaddling cloth made me feel as if my heart may burst." Her hands curled around nothing against her chest, and she heaved a great sigh.

“I couldn't… no…" She shook her head once more, visibly trembling before she took another deep breath. “I am sorry my son… I can't give you that, not today." She hugged herself momentarily, eyes squinted shut for a hard, intense beat before she breathed out. Eyes opening, red from tears and grinding palms.

“Let us focus on what I can give you."

Lidia and Gram exchanged a worried look, but he nodded, reaching into his sash and producing the small packet of papers.

“Mother… I wish to make a proper woman of Lidia, more than just eloping on the grounds. I have things I need to make right." Gram said, undoing the leather binding and taking the sheaf of papers out, passing them along.

Simone took them with a modest sort of grace that came from a lifetime of handling delicate documents, eyes darting across the page slowly, growing wider and more intense as she read until she lay the parchment down before her, staring at Gram in disbelief.

“When the Abbot said you needed my word, I thought you sought my blessing, or perhaps to ask me to some garish wedding in the country… Gram… these are a Writ of Succession."

“There are many things I would make amends of, and I cannot do that without my birthright."

She looked down at them again, and there was only a moment's thought. It was a library, and she was not in any means without the means to write, an inkwell and quill taken from a nearby desk and rapidly did she put her hand to parchment, the scratching of the nib was authoritative as she worked with a neat, precise hand, and ended it with a dramatic flourish, underscoring her signature before she fished into the neck of her wimple. Out on a glittering chain came a pair of rings, one simple of unalloyed gold, and another heavy with the Hound insignia, of House Baudelaire.

“This, I can give you. More than my blessing, more than empty words of a broken woman." She said as she fished in a nearby box, the same which she had claimed the quill from, and came away with a knob of thick, red wax. She drew one of the candles close, melting it with an intense stare, “I was not there when I needed to be, to turn you from this path I already had trod into misery, but I can be here now, to see you firmly off it." she said and pulled the chain from her neck, stabbing the signet down into the wax.

“Broken I may be, but I am still Baroness Simone Louise Madeline Baudelaire, and in my lands, my word is law."

She drew back the signet with purpose, her own seal next to Richart's, along with her name — the flourish she'd swept across the page had linked with Richart's own. The other ring on that necklace gleamed with import.

Lidia broke into a wide grin, and it was her turn to leave her seat, pushing into the woman's arms in a sudden and furious embrace.

“Thank ye, Lady, Thank ye so much…" she said, joy bursting out of her at the seams. The older woman laughed, it was a joyous thing that rang like silvery bells as she wrapped her arms around the girl and squeezed.

“My dear, you might have to practice calling me 'Mother', if not at least just 'Simone', you're marrying my firstborn," she said, new tears, at last of something beyond misery, misting her eyes, “It's unseemly for a daughter, by marriage or not, to call me 'Lady'."

“I'll work on it," Lidia murmured, squeezing her again. Gram watched, hands upturned his face… uncharacteristically soft, those hard ice-like eyes gentle, and a smile on his face that touched his eyes and put his mustaches askew rested easily on his lips. Aye, that made it worth it already. Now to do the rest so she would be fit to see that smile forever.

A knock at the door drew their attention, Lucian's polite voice finding its way through the wood.

“I loathe to interrupt, but Goodman Durin has sent me with a platter of refreshments and little else as far as instruction, is this is a good time?"

The lovers exchanged a wary look, but Simone just gave that silvery little laugh again.

“Durin is a treasure, come in — and count those cups, Ser." She said, wiping her eyes with the edges of her habit, making some effort to be presentable. The door opened and Lucian walked in with a platter arranged in a similar, neat coffee service with a few flakey tarts filled with some mixture of cheese and fruit that immediately drew Lidia's eye and growling stomach… it'd been some hours since breakfast, and storytelling was taxing work at this length. Lucian's hand idly marked off each cup with a digit.

“… Four, four cups." Lucian murmured with a bit of light chagrin as Simone smiled up at him with warmth that filled the room.

“Please, sit with us Lucian. We were just finishing up."

“Seems that was expected," He said with a faint smile, taking a chair.

~ ~ ~

The talk turned to the serious again, Lucian as was his wont — had been studying.

“You mentioned your intent to enter the Black Forest, I thought perhaps a perusal of a few books they have on the matter might be due, and I always sleep better with a bit of light reading."

“Oh aye real mild fare that, fookin' bestiaries of baby-stealin' degenerates and life-drinkin' harlots," Lidia interjected dryly, getting a look of consternation from Gram, to which she shrugged, “What? Jus' because we're sort o' nice-nice with Mum right now dinnae means she stopped being what she is."

“Some of them are literal bedtime stories," Lucian amended, getting a snort from the changeling as he grinned with the levity, it was to be much needed. “I found a few recurring things as fact, turns out that you cannot in fact — build an outpost of scholarly monks within a few days travel of the border of a faewood and have them not take some interest over a century or so." he said, fishing his pipe from his surcoat. Simone's eyes lit up at that and he raised a brow.

“Oh I haven't partaken in some time, it was a thing I shared with my husband…" she explained and Lucian raised an eyebrow, and then the pipe as he quietly packed it with the finely-chopped leaf. She paused and gave a winsome little smile.

“I'm feeling a bit nostalgic I suppose, thank you." Lucian lit it expertly, took a pull and then satisfied with the burn — handed it off to the Lady, exhaling his own lungful.

“As I was saying, we have a few things as fact I can arm you with — as loathe as I am to send you into the veritable hornet's nest alone, from what you were saying, you are guarnteed some degree of safe passage."

“Passage that she would not grant to you, ser." Simone agreed, her soft, unrouged lips parted to make a soft, delicate ring of smoke as she sighed, looking up at it with distant eyes. Somewhere else. Sometime else, for the moment before returning her sharp gaze to the man, tapping the pipe thoughtfully, “As charming and dangerous as you are, Ser Lucian — I would rather not test it on so tall a task, yes? I rather like you."

“It pleases me to hear that," Lucian answered with genuine cordiality, waving his hand as she handed his pipe back to him, “That said I had no intent of forcing my way through, as much as another blade would aid you I may in fact, merely offend them." He explained, taking a puff again. “Such is the way of fae agreements, my attempting to escort you could be viewed as you breaking faith that she'd protect you, and she would be in her rights to let you protect yourself since you clearly thought me better than her."

“An' then they'd just set upon us, and she'd 'ave whatever she wants o' me with nae concern for either o ye," Lidia said, Simone nodded curtly.

“Quite so, best to play by their rules as much as you can — it limits them as much as you."

“Vexing." Gram lamented with a tired tone, and the room sighed in agreement.

“You have some knowledge of the fae, Lady Simone?" Lucian queried and she smiled.

“Oh, a casual study. My husband was enthralled by them, and I shared much of his passion for discovery," she said warmly. Lidia grinned.

Lucian took a sip of his coffee with a nod, “Good. That will be helpful," he addressed the pair a bit, “The stories of the Black Forest all in some way mention the mysterious city of Brigadoon, the center of the Seelie court. Little is know directly, the few people who've seen it with human eyes were quite mad afterwards and their accounts garbled and in many way nonsensical."

“Nonsensical how?" Gram asked, “Perhaps our experiences may shed some light."

“Mmn, indeed," Lucian agreed, furrowing his brow intently; “Your crossing of borders in the Empty Queen's demesne could provide some clarity," he said and took another sip before resuming.

“The city of Brigadoon is lost to all who would seek it, even to survive the trials of the Black Forest would be to simply wander endlessly unless you are invited, guided — or, it is the rare instance that the realms of Sidhe overlap fully with ours. Once a century."

“Please tell me we ain't 'bout tae come up on that specific date, Luc. I'll scream." Lidia huffed laconically, and he laughed.

“No, no, even fate isn't quite so obvious all the time, per our records we're still some years out from it, give or take the coherence of the testimony. No from what you've said, you have an invitation."

“Aye," she agreed, tucking into her second tart with a pleased little smile, “Nae sure how that'll shake out, I'm assumin' we jus' start walkin' into th' woods an' she'll pop out o' the shadows like she always does."

“Likely," Simone agreed as Lucian passed his pipe to her again, “Truly, Dame Morgana is your mother?" She inquired before taking a slow pull from the pipe, Lidia nodded.

“Aye, was quite somethin' tae find out she wasn't jus' some lonely sprite with a fancy for menfolk," Lidia admitted, shaking her head.

“Quite something indeed, Dame Morgana is quite the Sidhe, First Face of the Morrigan," Simone said and Lidia screwed up her face in curiosity.

“What does that mean?"

“Ah, well… how to put this succinctly," Simone hedged a moment, tapping her cheek with the pipestem, “It's been some time since I taught anything… Dame Morgana is one aspect of three. She is all of them, but The Dame is first amongst equals, the other two are more… elemental."

“Like the Lady," Gram said, “As spoken of in the Words of White, she is The Lady and The Unicorn, seperate and the same."

“Yes, yes, quite so my son," Simone said warmly, “Your experiences with the Lady will make this easier." She said, leaning forward, “Morgana is to the rest of her, what The Lady is to the Unicorn, the 'First Face', her tether to the mortal realms. It is the most… solid, of the three aspects, the most complete. The other two, Badb and Macha are more… forces, than entities."

“Badab the Stormcrow, reaver of fields, sower of sorrow, singer of woe. Macha the Mother, the lover, the womb of law — the white mare of sovereignty." Lucian added, “They are her wrath, the face she wears in times of war, and her 'love', in the most mechanical sense of the word.

“The Lady must be a bit cross about the last one." Gram noted dryly, getting a chuckle from Lucian.

“So what's this make Morgan then?" Lidia asked, and Simone exhaled a single breath of smoke with a single word.

“Want."

Gram and Lidia exchanged a haunted look. That made plenty of sense.

“From what we've learned, she is… want, yearning, the desire to create, to build, to conquer. In as much as The Lady in White is Queen of Love — she is Queen of Want. The Platonic Idea of Desire."

Lidia's eyes were rather large at that, and she looked down at her hands… feeling a bit sheepish as she wiped a bit of tart from them, “I dinnae… feel, like ah'm sommat powerful's child. I still get moonflow cramps an' everything."

“Changelings aren't like my Greatest of Grandmothers, you are not simply the child of a divine. Those like you are purposefully mortal, for a variety of reasons, but generally in some way that serves the fae's interests," Lucian explained, and Lidia made a face.

“Mum said my purpose was tae be loved."

That was met with a sudden silence from everyone, Lucian and Simone staring intently.

“Did… she say that, exactly?" Simone asked in a quiet voice.

“Aye, she made me tae be loved by Papa, that's what she said." Lidia responded… it hurt less now, saying it out loud. One got used to just about anything with enough time. The two scholars exchanged wild-eyed looks.

“That's… concerning." Lucian said, and Lidia tilted her head a little.

“Why?"

“Lidia, Sidhe… don't know how to love." Simone said softly, reaching across the table to squeeze her son's hand. “Not as we do… their love is alien, transactional, they exist far apart from us."

“But… th' Lady loves Bart, why not mum?" Lidia challenged, a frown on her face.

“The Lady is Love, she is made out of it, her love for Bart is intrinsically linked to her being made of the love of Mankind, the Sidhe are not of us, the way she is — the way all of the Triune are, sharing of our souls. Our Heaven." Lucian explained, eyes still a little wild. “She cannot lie… she should not be able to even grasp the idea."

“It would be like you understanding a fish, or a bird, as they understand each other. You can love a pet bird, appreciate the beauty of a kept fish… but you cannot love it, as one does a husband, or a child." Simone explained a bit, frowning. “In some ways we both are too limited, it is the tragedy of such unions."

“But Mum loved Papa," Lidia pressed, eyes hard, “When she spoke tae me, there was nae slippery words or sneaky weaslin' like some fishmonger at the wharf — she said it plain, an' ye said it yerself."

“She cannot lie." Simon agreed, folding her hands under her chin.

“What does tha' mean then, Luc?" Lidia pressed, and the albino soldier blew out a breath.

“I have absolutely no idea. It is unprecedented."

“We tend to attract such events." Gram remarked with casual aplomb. The table grew silent a moment.

“That said, you know the stories. The Sidhe will test you, attempt to solicit you into agreements and debts with gifts and promises," Lucian continued and she nodded.

“Aye, Richart said as much when mum appeared frightful an' sudden," Lidia said, and Gram nodded.

“They cannot stand the touch of iron nor steel, I remember that much very plainly…" Gram added, the memory of the smoldering flesh at the end of his spear vivid — as well as how little it slowed Dame Morgana.

“You have an advantage in that you are invited by the Queen of Summer," Simone said, passing Lucian's pipe back to him with another soft little smoke ring rising from her lips, “Many will fear to anger her, or in some way obstruct her, invoking her name will open doors and dissuade opportunists, but do not use it in vain — she may decide to use that as a moment for an object lesson."

“She likes those," Lidia murmured bitterly.

“I wish I could provide more, but much of the rest of this is… borderline fiction, in its recounting. The ravings of madmen and those who were in charge of recording them," he shook his head, “They spoke of 'lines of which the eyes could not see but the feet crossed' and 'seeing things a mile away as if they stood in close comfort', let alone the speaking of impossible geometries…" he trailed off as Gram and Lidia's gazes both grew hollow.

“Ah… it will be as that." Gram said stiffly, nodding and swallowing. “I am unsure how to put to words, but there were places that matched those descriptions. To step over an invisible boundary and without chance to notice… being somewhere else, unable to return."

“An' tae see things… like…" Lidia rubbed her eyes at the memory. “Like nae fog or distance mattered, to look an' see things crisp as life… but standin' leagues away an' nae movin' closer."

“It was an intense experience." Gram said, putting his arm around Lidia, neither of them particularly liked remembering the Empty Queen's realm at the end of time. She dreamed of it sometimes still. She woke up crying when she did.

The conversation wound down after that, much of it simply commiserating over common interests, and there was a wonderful lack of import to the affair that Lidia found suddenly restful and needed. They laughed and smoked, and sipped Durin's delightfully nutty coffee until yet another knock at the door came.

“You're not dead in there, are you?" The Abbot's gristly voice asked through the wood, Lidia could hear the cockeyed smile on his face. Simone of all people, answered.

“You'll outlive us all, but not yet, Old Mule." Her voice was tart and her lips were smiling as the door opened.

“Oh aye I will, and I'll dance on all your graves on your namedays so you won't forget up in Godhome, you wide-bottomed cow," he said, signing the eye-and-horn in the air and grinning at her with crooked teeth as he approached the table. Lidia giggled softly, but Gram seemed momentarily irritated by the cheek. Simone rose to it gamely however.

“Better a cow than the raw strip of leather you turned into, I heard your muscles creaking like an old buff coat all the way up the hall," she added, and he cackled in response.

“Leather and stone, every inch. I'll kick it one day and they'll erect my cadaver on the mantle as the King of All Church Grims, count on it!" He shot back, and she grinned the wider as he leaned forward, raising an eyebrow at her and then the lovers. “Still got all your faculties together, eh?" he added, his tone warm and fatherly. Simone smiled.

“It was touch a go for a bit, Old Mule, but yes." She smiled at Gram and leaned over to take his hand, squeezing it. “Yes, I think at least this part has finally passed."

The old Abbot's face lit up, grinning ear to ear with those crooked teeth and leathery features. There was a glimmer of moisture in his eyes but he only could add more teeth to the smile.

“Good, good on you, Girlie." He turned his eyes to the packet on the table, lifting it to his idle gaze, jaw cocked as he read down it. “Oh good tidings indeed," he said and fixed that palsied eye on her with that grin returning. “We'll get this on a hawk straightaway, Queen's Priority." He said and turned to Gram specifically. The big man raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

“I figured you a man of action, so I've had the sisters and grooms setting about tending your gear. If you wish, you can leave early as the morning light and I'll have full packs and fresh clothes for the task." he said and raised a finger.

“… Or, you can listen to my alternative."

Gram looked down to Lidia, who was visibly pained at the idea of leaving so soon, she'd had but one night's good rest for the last three… and she wasn't honestly ready to leave this safe enclosure just yet. Gram looked back up.

“What's the alternative?"

Abbot Giles grinned, “Stay with us a few days, Queen's Priority messages rarely take more than three for a response, and her Imperial Grace is quite dutiful. Rest, Pray, prepare yourself properly for the odyssey, the Black Forest is no place for those who are not ready for the task of survival."

“You speak as one who knows," Gram observed, and Abbot Giles nodded solemnly, tapping his chest with two fingers.

“Of course I know. I've been there."

Eyes all around the table were fixated on the ancient old Abbot, he grinned crookedly and gave a little chuckle, “Oh come now, you didn't think I was born an old, cranky strip of leather and gristle? I was a man! A handsome, bold, young man once with the shine of adventure still gleaming in my eyes. I went seeking wonders, and the world had no lack of them to show me," he began, taking a seat, turning it so he sat astride it, leaning heavily across the back, his eyes burning with memory, gaze sharp as a shaving razor.

“I saw the wonders, but the horrors as well. I did not come to the Church early in life, I spent that as a man should — fighting, drinking, seeing the world and it's variety of beautiful women!" he said with a grin shot to Simone as she playfully rolled her eyes at him, but he shook his head, that crooked grin softening at its edges as his face took on a melancholy cast.

“The things I saw in that wood, are what drove me to the Lady's arms. Wonders, aye. Aplenty. Horrors, aye. Just as many, and just as varied."

The old man closed his lips tight in a firm line, and he knocked his knobby old knuckles on the back of the chair, “I saw things in that place, boyo. Things that did not defy understanding, they were far, far too easy to grasp. A world that made its own sense and then infected you with the meaning. It is a place of wonders and horrors, equal in measure and equal in power." His face was somber and he nodded, not to anyone in the room, someplace distant in his mind.

“It is a place that takes you, and it does not give you back unaltered, if it does at all. Prepare for that."

There was a silence, and he drew a slow breath, his smile returning, “So what say you then? If you wish to charge off in glory, I won't stop you. A man must make such choices himself."

Gram fell silent, the unsaid things lingered in the air. Ghosts floated in the space around the old Abbot, and those aged eyes carried the familiar emptiness of loss. Lidia narrowed her gaze and bit her lip. She knew that look now. She knew what someone who had to say goodbye too soon looked like. Gram squared his jaw.

“A few days then. Only is good sense." He agreed, and Lidia nodded, the old Abbot smiled and tapped the packet of papers against his brow.

“Let us get this to the Hawks then, quick enough and they'll catch the midday updrafts from the steppes."

Everyone nodded, and made to assemble, Simone adjusting her wimple as Gram helped her with her chair, the pair embracing once more warmly as Lidia stood off to the side, several choices making themselves for her as she watched. The little changeling grabbed Lucian's surcoat, giving it a light tug for attention as he tapped his pipe clear nearby, raising an eyebrow to his friend.

“Iffin' we're tae see th' rookery proper, I 'ave somethin' I need yer aid wit', Luc." she said, holding him back from joining the rest of the group as they left. The Abbot drew attention to that,

“Something the matter, girlie?" He asked, and she shook her head.

“Nae, I jus' need tae borrow th' Ser for a minute, we'll catch up tae ye."

“Very well." He agreed and puttered towards the door, Gram raised a brow as well but she just blew him a kiss with a wink before Lucian and her were left alone. The albino churchman fixed her with an inquiring gaze.

“Right then, here's what I need, Luc…"

~ ~ ~

The Rookery was not particularly different from the one at Fort Ivory in anything but scale really, the second of only two buildings daring to sit above two stories, it sat on the furthest corner of the grounds and stood rivaled only by the modest chapel's bell tower on the monastery's opposite end. A stout, utilitarian building, it had the same three-tiered structure — the floor-level a stacks, the second devoted to the scriptorium where letters and correspondence was handled, and the top-most where the Rookery itself was. Even as she jogged to catch up she already saw the gleam of wings across its ramparts.

Skidding to a halt at the desk, she smiled at the sister behind it, “Hi! I'm lookin' fer th' Abbot an' me Loverboy," she said, a bit out of breath. A few strides behind her arrived Lucian as well, a new packet of papers tightly folded and sealed in his hands. The sister smiled.

“The Abbot and the Captain are already in the Rookery, Miss. The Ser knows the way," she said as Lucian nodded to her, giving a little jerk of his chin to coax the changeling along.

“Iffin' I 'ad yer ability tae charm locals, I'd ne'er need tae pick a lot again," she mused and the church soldier laughed.

“I think that is precisely why you lack it, God knew you'd make mischief with such power," he answered cheekily, the little changeling sticking her tongue out at him playfully in response.

“D'ye know what the Abbot was about on th' whole Black Forest bit?" She asked as they ascended the steps in good time, passing the few working scribes on the way up, Lucian shook his head.

“Abbot Giles isn't particularly private, but he hasn't spoken to me of the wood before today. Perhaps you should ask him yourself." He said in a considering tone as they mounted the last steps, the sunlight streaming in as they stepped up to the Rookery itself.

The eight stations for each direction of the compass remained, Lidia rapidly matching the smaller station to its grander mirror back in the Heartlands, the Messenger Hawks all seeming of a similar piece, their gleaming white pinions like carved ivory as the grooms handled and tended them. They spied the rest of the party at the northeastern station, attended by a plainly-dressed monk and a proud, fierce looking hawk — already graciously dipped low to allow the message to be slotted into its carrying satchel.

“Ah, we almost missed you!" Abbot Giles said, reaching up to pat the Hawk's chest fondly, the massive beast puffing its plumage in a pleased fashion as she approached. The bird quite curiously inclined its head at Lidia, clacking its beak and moving on its perch to be closer to her, head, twitching to and fro in curiosity.

“What's eating you, girl?" The monk asked quietly, the bird turning to look at him before back to Lidia, giving another almost conversational clack of that deadly beak. Giles raised a brow himself.

“She smells something, come closer girlie, she's not agitated."

Lidia moved closer, eyes wide as the massive bird continued to stare at her with that intense, too-intelligent gaze, as she moved closer the hawk leaned down and seemed to inspect her, before fluffing up with an odd little coo and suddenly pressing the down of her neck onto the top of the little changeling's head, brooding and clattering its mandible in what appeared to be genuine affection. Lidia's eyes were wide, and she was stock-still.

“W...what's it doin'?" She asked quietly, and the groom raised an eyebrow curiously.

“She's brooding over you like a fellow chick. Have you met a Messenger Hawk before?" He asked, and Lidia nodded.

“Aye, the big momma over at Fort Ivory was kind o' fond o' me," she said, and the groom raised his eyebrows at her for clarification, “She uh… mothered me, a wee bit, when I was hurtin'."

“That explains it," the groom said, smoothing the doting hawk's feathers. “Morning Gale is one of White Glint's own chicks, she can smell her mother on you."

“Surely not, I've bathed an' er'rything between now an' then!" Lidia protested, and the groom laughed.

“Its not a physical scent, Hawks are special creatures — gifts from God himself. Whatever fondness White Glint had for you left a mark other hawks will be able to see." He explained as the Hawk fluffed her chest and settled back only after Lidia raised a hand and returned the affection to a degree, “Consider it a blessing, few outside of our craft are treated as such."

“Figures, er'rything that tries tae be me mom is some kind o' creature," she said and the Hawk clicked at her reproachfully. Lidia balked a bit.

“No way she understood me." Lidia denied, the groom laughed.

“She did. I told you, special creatures."

Lidia and the mystical creature locked eyes for a minute, and she blushed, “Sorry, I dinnae mean tae insult yer mum," she said, and just as wondrously — Morning Gale clacked her beak once and leaned down, gently brooding her plumage over the changeling's head once more.

“All is forgiven," the groom translated to Lidia's deadpan expression.

“Ye dinnae say."

All things settled, the Abbot's chuckling voice rose again, “Very well Gale, you know what to do. Fly fast, girl, don't be afraid to wake the Queen if she's dozing." He said, and the Hawk drew herself up sharply, Lidia falling back a few steps with the others as the beast looked to the sky, tucked itself… and simply defied the pull of the earth. It launched itself with such a powerful thrust of wings and legs that the downburst of air tore and nipped at loose clothing, whirled loose feathers and debris around them in a miniature storm as in that single bound it was entirely airborne. Morning Gale's wings snapping out with authority, capturing the wind — taming it and riding it high and proud in an ascending spiral on invisible updrafts until with a piercing cry, it dove free, streaking across the sky at impossible speeds, rapidly disappearing towards the mist-shrouded capital far in the distance.

“Marvelous," Lidia murmured at the sight, echoing her distant big brother's common refrain.

“She makes good time," Lucian said, shielding his eyes with his hand, holding up the new, mysterious packet, “I have a missive as well, may I?" he asked the groom, who gestured for them to be apart a ways, walking towards southwestern station. Lidia grinned and winked at him before sliding up to put her arms around Gram's towering form. The soldier raised an eyebrow at that.

“What was that about?" He asked and she shook her head.

“Nae worries, jus' a bit o' housecleanin' that needed someone wit' a better hand fer letters than meself," she said, leaning up to kiss him once. No need to worry him, if it worked… well, they'd find out if and when that happened. She just had to have faith.

~ ~ ~

The time at Blackreach was… quaint. It lacked the constant urban bustle of The Abbey and its novices, and the martial air of Fort Ivory was absent entirely, in their place was a quiet dignity that seemed to lay over the place like a soft, comforting blanket. It felt like a pocket of safety in the turmoil of recent days. They spent the days in quiet companionship, Gram and her both taking turns finding various tomes on their upcoming foray into the dark places, but more and more it turned up questions and discontent rather than answers — and Lidia and her beloved resigned themselves to simple rest as they waited, leaving the scholarly pursuits to the scholars.

Lidia found the company enjoyable, and not just her beloved Gram — though that part was nice. She and he spent much of the intervening two days in some kind of intimate, casual contact. No matter where he or she sat, the other was often nearby, making some kind of contact with their partner. A hand, a foot, a leaning frame. The closeness was something she craved, and had always craved, and Gram gave it to her wordlessly, effortlessly. Wonderfully.

No, she spent much of that time as well with others. In some ways, it felt like a goodbye, farewells said in long-form. Lucian and she met more than once over books and pipes, he offering her advice as an excuse to gush about his latest discovery pouring over the stacks. Little of import passed in these small visits, but she treasured them — and indeed she found herself frequently alone to enjoy that quiet company. Gram and Simone often disappeared to quiet places to speak privately. Gram returned from these meetings with tear-reddened eyes and a smile on his face, and it did her heart good. They lay together at night, and he kissed her in such ways she thought that lovemaking must be an afterthought to the pleasure she found simply in the brush of his mouth to hers, the feeling of his hands upon her body — surely the sidhe in her must be daft, what could be better than this?

Morning Gale returned on the third day without fail.

The arrival drew a small crowd to the rookery, not just Lidia and Gram, but Simone, Abbot Giles, Lucian and a number of sisters and brothers both — a missive from the Queen did not arrive every day, and according to the grooms, this was special.

“What so special 'bout this one?" Lidia asked as the groom fully removed the packet from Morning Gale's document pouch, the hawk clearly tired but puffed up with pride — her duty done with all due haste. The groom fluffed some of her down to a please clatter of the beak as he handed it over.

“We frequently send off missives to the Queen's Consulate, much of them are simply reports and recommendations for those whom abide here," he explained, holding up the packet, “Those return, same documents, signed and sealed by the Queen — this, is her personal stationary. She responded to you in her own hand."

The letter was folded into a quartet of creases, sealed at the middle with a heavy wax imprint, the center of which was embossed with gold dust pinched into the still-hot wax at the time of stamping, the imperial crest with it's imposing cresting Heron and rampant Wolf, both perched upon the horizontal blade of a saber. The paper itself was gilt at the edges, and of durable vellum rather than rendered parchment. Lidia's eyes widened as the groom handed it off to Gram.

“It is addressed to you, Captain."

The church soldier took it gingerly, weighing it in his palm before turning his gaze to his mother and the Abbot's own, expectant looks — as well as that of a dozen or more brothers and sisters of the monastery. The tall man colored lightly.

“Not to offend, dear brethren mine — but it is a personal matter." He explained, clearly uncomfortable. The Abbot grinned.

“Alright you rabble, we've all had our excitement, I'm sure there'll be rumors aplenty you're all eager to spread," he said, clapping his hands and shooing the many church folk back to their tasks, giving Gram a crooked grin, “Shall we adjourn to my office? As Abbot, I exercise my right to be a nosy old man on my own grounds," he said and Gram chuckled.

“I will welcome your insight, as well as yours, Ser," He said to Lucian, and his eyes went to Lidia and Simone, both standing nearby one another — a study in opposites, tall and short, slim and curvaceous. The man smiled, “I need not invite either of you personally, for you belong there most."

They made their way to the office, Gram and Lidia now thoughtlessly navigating the stacks after the days of back and forth across the grounds. The assembled party all found places to sit or stand, Lucian opting to lean against the far wall, leaving the two women and old Abbot to the chairs. Gram drew his belt knife and quickly lifted the seal, unfolding the letter and clearing his throat.

From the desk of the High Canoness, To her loyal Captain, Gram Guillaume Vauquelin Baudelaire

I was surprised and delighted to receive such correspondence from one who has so recently done much for our kingdom, however distant. We to date owe a great debt to the Lady in White and her stoic champions in the Radiant Order, her blood still flows however thinly through our nation's peoples and to hear that one of our own had crossed the boundaries of time and space to rescue her filled me and much of my court with pride. You will know our gratitude in many ways for your deeds.

I was even more delighted to see that you chose to return to us properly. I read all of my subjects entreaties, every peasant worry and pauper's daughter with flights of fancy. I pride myself on memory of every one. I remember a young soldier's missive, renouncing his inheritance for the glory of God and the Lady. I remember approving it with sadness in my heart, but pride in this nubile warrior's sense of duty. It is good now that I see that same young soldier, grown and tempered, seeking to return to his land with tithes of blood and soil in hand.

I saw it ill-fitting to simply approve and stamp a Writ of Succession to a hero of the Lady and God, and instead made it an imperial decree. May the young soldier you once were glory in the hero you have come to be.

I hereby decree that Gram Guillaume Vauquelin Baudelaire, Captain of the 3rd Regiment of the Ivory Spears of the Radiant Order of Our Lady in White, is restored to the House of Baudelaire in full with good standing before the Healing Church and Imperial Throne. May his rule be just, and his hand firm but fair. Let any who would challenge this writ also challenge the word of God and Crown.

Good tidings, God's Blessing, and Lady's Love.

High Canoness Bernadette Isabella Louane de Matisse, Imperial Queen of Darrowmere.

Gram's voice had quavered when she spoke of the original letter, and Lidia slid her hand up his side to pull him close, leaning against his hip as he read. Simone gently clutched her holy symbol, eyes full of motherly affection, the rest all smiled.

“Well, that sorts it boyo," the Abbot say, slapping his palms down upon the table with a grin, Lidia squealed as the letter finished and went from a concerned embrace to an eager squeeze, laughing gaily as she threw herself around his middle.

“Yer all mine now!" She crowed, grinning ear to ear, sharp teeth and fae eyes on full display in her eager joy, “Th' Queen herself gave ye tae me, an' I get tae keep ye forever."

“Taken by a sidhe woman, body and soul. 'Tis the way of many a romantic tragedy," Gram said playfully, but he drew her into his arms and crushed her to his chest proudly, “I suppose we should ask properly before we make any plans," he added, Lidia following his gaze to Simone, her eyes full of joyous tears. Lidia bit her lip and turned, sitting down before the Lady Baudelaire.

“I dinnae think I'd ever get tae meet ye, let alone… ask this an' that, but iffin' I can, I will," she said and gently reached out, taking Simone's hands in her small, battered fingers. Her eyes wide, heart on her sleeve.

“Will ye give us yer blessin', Lady? I love yer son, I love him so much it eats me up inside. I want tae keep him forever, give him an army o' babies, and fall asleep in his arms er'ry night til ah'm old and frail."

“You seem intent on it regardless of my feelings, dear one. Your heart is a drum and you follow its cadence like a soldier on the march, and I can't fault you for that one bit," the older woman said, nodding to her with a soft smile.

“Of course you have my blessing, but bless you dear one for asking. You try so hard to do it all the correct way, and I am honored by that." She said, and enfolded the little changeling in a powerful hug, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“I am so happy to see my boy with someone so passionately in love with him, you both deserve this happiness."

Lidia choked up as well, and squeezed her would-be mother-in-law even tighter, only to find a third pair of arms encircling them both. Gram had reached down, and wrapped both women, tiny by comparison, in his strong arms.

“God has given me a wife, and returned to me a mother. Blessings I have, and they are many."

Gram's smile was all either woman needed.

~ ~ ~

The rush of activity in the wake of the letter seemed to fly by in minutes rather than hours, a dozen minor details hashed out, provisions checked, maps unfurled, routes planned. By the setting of the sun over the quiet little complex, all that was left to do was simply walk out the gates to their destinies.

Abbot Giles caught Lidia at the onset of dusk, pulling her away from Lucian and Gram, deep in maps and pipes, rechecking their route to the Black Forest — wary of the chances Karnov's men had tracked them to such an obvious destination.

“Might I bend your ear a moment, girlie?" he asked, that palsied eye fixed on her with a curious sort of intensity, his teeth setting as he nodded to the other two men, getting the same in return.

“Aye, I'm nae much o' use here, wit' these two fine champions o' strategy on hand," she said, leaning over to kiss Gram briefly before rising, the two soldiers smiling at her as she went. She trusted them to lead her correctly, once they got to the sidhe woods proper… it was up to fate.

“You don't mind a walk, do you girlie?" The Abbot asked, thumbs hooked into his sash, eyes distant once more, “I don't feel much for being locked away for the moment."

“Aye, I'm a touch younger than ye, won't break," she said with a cheeky wink, the Abbot's smile was genuine… but faint. She walked alongside him as they left the stacks and their haze of pipesmoke and good cheer into the cool night air. Summer seemed short this year, already the chill of autumn crept into the edge of the winds, reminding them that but a few short months stood between them and the pall of winter. Alone in the courtyard green, she raised an eyebrow to the old man.

“Is there somethin' botherin' ye uh…" she paused and screwed up her face a bit, “I uh… dinnae know what tae call an Abbot in chit-chat," she admitted, and he grinned.

“Reverend Abbot, if you want to be stuffy about it, but 'Father' all the same as your chapel priest, girlie," he explained kindly, crooked teeth showing through his lips. “You really were a forest child."

“Aye, nae stepped foot in a church 'fore I came to be with Big Brother an' his sorts,"

“Ser Bart, you speak of him often, do you truly think him your brother?"

Lidia paused there a moment, the Abbot's question was not judgmental, but thoughtful, his face considering as he turned his gaze to the glittering tapestry above them. The stars were bright and clear, dancing with the Twin Maidens above. She thought on it for a long moment, maybe three.

“Aye, 'twas jus' a bit o' cope at first, tae… 'ave somethin' tae grab hold of, with all goin' tae smash. But th' more I said it… the more he acted like one," she said and folded her arms around her waist. “He's my Big Brother, same as if Mum made him o' spare parts like me."

“You feel as if you were supposed to know the man before you met him," Abbot Giles said, and she paused, nodding a bit as he continued, eyes still distant, “Like God built him for that purpose."

She nodded, he smiled a bit. There was pain there. Old pain.

“I have a favor to ask you, girlie. It's a tall order, a real shot in the dark — literally, in this case," he said raising an eyebrow, “You don't have to do anything, but I'd like you to listen."

Lidia nodded, not sure what to say — so opting to say nothing at all. Abbot Giles smiled at that.

“Before the church, I was a nobleman's son, nothing important, 'Nobles of the Robe' they called us. Bankers, Merchants, any number of minor dignitaries with minor holdings," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if it were ill-sitting dust to be brushed away. “I was an impetuous sort of youth, I had enough money to get into trouble, and enough sense to get back out of it. I went on adventures when others pressed flesh in parlors or wagged tongues in salons, I was a man," he said, thumping his chest with both hard-knuckled hands, “I did as I pleased, damn the consequences. Just another adventure."

“Sounds a wee bit like someone I know," Lidia said, thinking of Nazir — the Nazir she'd met at first, not so much the canny, sharp-eyed man she'd left in Fairharbour.

“Aye, many such men these days. A time of plenty makes for idle hands and itchy feet. I had a companion for my adventures, a man like your Ser Bart. Brother to me in all but blood, thick and thin we were together, Colin and Jean — doughty partners in outrageous fortune."

“Colin and Jean?" She asked with a smirk, and he grinned at her.

“Giles is my surname, girlie. Jean Rupert Balthazar Giles." He swept her a bit of a mocking bow and continued their quiet walk around the perimeter, the shadows of trees framing their passage.

“Charmed," she purred at him in a faux-Darrowmite accent, nose in the air. He snorted and shook his head, looking back up at the stars.

“Colin would have liked you, The Captain too. Always had a soft spot for misfits."

“What happened tae him?"

“The adventure ended."

Giles fell silent after that, and Lidia didn't press as he seemed to search for things to say, working his jaw back and forth like a saw grinding down through a stubborn trunk.

“Colin and I got it in our heads to explore the Black Forest, find this Brigadoon, get an invitation — be the first to see the Sidhelands and record it. Big dreams, big thoughts. We prepared for it well, scholars and woodsmen, we consulted them all. Carried all we needed, had plans to deal with tricks, traps, and any number of fairy folk," he said and raised a hand up, smoothing it over his close-cropped hair.

“We were young. We were fools."

The silence ruled again for a time, they rounded a corner and the moons once again bathed the pair in their silvery light, he took a long breath. His crooked teeth set tight around the words before they left his lips.

“We found the Black Forest, made our way in. Got quite far until we couldn't be sure of our way back, usual fae trickery. We had a compass, iron and lodestone — surely the iron would ward away fae trickery we'd said." His face fell. “It did not."

“I've been tae a fae wood, th' northern one," Lidia said to a crisp nod.

“Aye. Baba Yaga's demesne as you told us, your recounting is fairly accurate to what we saw as well… time had no meaning, space defied mapping — and doubly, the compass just spun like a seamstress' wheel."

The idea filled her with a quiet dread — to be so lost, the memory of Baba Yaga's woods haunted her dreams some nights still. The cold eyes of her riders. The sound of her iron-black nails snapping like flint. She had been there with a guide, with protection… and she'd been but a small child among giants. She could not imagine.

“They began to appear then, all sorts of… things. I won't waste words attempting to describe what we saw, wonders, horrors, beauty, grotesques — they defied our senses, defied being seen nor tracked. Simply there in the darkness, herding us deeper with strange whispers and fleeting glimpses of things so gorgeous you could die — or so gruesome you wanted to."

The old man paused again, the were at the western gate, beyond the Black Forest stood as a shadowy wall in the far distance. His eyes fixed on it.

“Colin never showed a moment's fear. His eyes gleamed like they did on any adventure. He pressed on… and when she appeared, some… creature I cannot put name nor shape to, she extended a hand," he reached his own hand out slowly, a royal gesture.

“Come away with me, and I will care for you."

Lidia shuddered. Those words had been spoken in her earshot once before. By the Lady in White.

“I was a God-fearing man as is proper, but it wasn't until then that I truly believed. You hear of evil, of monsters. You speak against them, you gird your soul against the shadowy ideas of the dark… but to see it, to witness the power of the Other in their own sphere — to be helpless before it…" he paused and let that hand drop, meeting her gaze with sad, empty eyes.

“I suppose I don't need to explain to you what that's like, do I?"

Lidia shuddered, and to her shame — she looked away before she nodded. She didn't want to look into those eyes, not now. She'd seen too many men hollowed out by evil already. Abbot Giles did not slight her for that, he merely continued.

“Colin did not hesitate, except for a moment when he saw me, pissing my britches in terror… and she said it again, those words, and there was a yank in me, right here." He tapped his gut and shook his head, “Like she was trying to pull me inside out with words alone. He took her hand… and then he said to me…" The Abbot sighed, closing his eyes. He did not choke up, there were no tears. No sobs. It was old, well-healed pain.

“He said to me, 'Go home Jean… I finally found what I've been looking for', and God help me, I ran. I ran flat out, I never looked back."

There was shame in that tone, and Lidia once again turned away, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling… guilty, her fae blood like fire in her veins at this man's earnest grief. The Abbot's hand touched her arm.

“Don't, girlie." He said softly, shaking his head. “Not for me, I am an old man. I have made my choices, I will hold my head high when I stand before Our Lord in Ivory, and I will look him in the eye as he reads to me my sins and virtues alike — and I will not flinch."

“What favor did ye want o' me, then?" She asked, biting down on the tone of accusation that wanted to vent its way past her pointed teeth, but her sidhe eyes gleamed in the darkness. Luminous like a wildcat in the night. “What iffin' not me sympathy?"

“A simple request, if you would." He said, and tucked his hands into his sash, turning his gaze to the far woods again. “You are bound for Brigadoon, invited and guaranteed passage. Colin… I don't believe he died, not bloody or brutal. I would… know, somehow." His eyes slowly slid back to her own.

“If you see him, see a man… or something in the shape of one, with chestnut hair, eyes like flints, and the bearing of a man of action and valor… tell him, I made it home." He said and paused once more.

“Tell him I also finally found what I was looking for."

~ ~ ~

The words haunted her mind all the way to bed, laying down in naught but a thin shrift and daring eyes with Gram. She drew him to her with need and abandon, drowning the tumult in her heart with the taste of his mouth, the sounds of his pleasure. She was aggressive, nails raking, teeth biting, gasping as she pushed, and pushed, and pushed until he cried out beneath her seeking hands and searching eyes.

She was astride him on the bed, bathed in moonlight and the gleam of sudor, eyes aglow in the silvery shine as she once more rolled her hips back and forth atop him, against the barrier of clothing and tradition that kept them apart. His chest and neck were a mess of reddened marks, lips flushed from kisses and chest heaving with abandon. His eyes were wide and staring as she drew her nails across his chest once more, face in shadow but for the gleam of green.

“Ye’ll let me do anythin’ tae ye, won’t ye…” she hissed luridly, the remains of her attentions fast-fading but present as she drew close to his mouth once more, seeking, questing, hungry. He didn’t answer at first — nor could he for her invading tongue, her biting teeth pulling at his lip. She pushed again, both with her hips and intent, pulling a groan from him and a pretty arch of his belly, the muscles rippling beneath his flesh like a coil of serpents, and down it drew her attention, nails and mouth questing to his belly.

“What’ll it take for ye tae tell me no…”

His voice rose as her tongue found his navel, his hands dug into his own hair in beautiful agony as she traced her mouth down his deeply-cut hipbones, dragging her teeth at the tender flesh at the hem of his smallclothes, his belly trembling and clenching as the sensitive flesh rebelled and exulted in the attention.

“God’s Blood, you test me!” Gram groaned through his fingers, his voice a mix of pain and pleasure, husky with desire that strained now at her modest bosom through the gossamer-thin linen of her gown.

“You test me, a ravenous… ravenous little redcap loose in my bed…” he panted and met her gaze through fingers as he leaned his glistening brow against his knuckles, chest heaving, sweat beading on the bare expanse of his chest. “… And I do not know if I can tell her no.”

That sent a thrill through her, but she also felt the nagging worry drag at her all the same. The Abbot’s words nipped at her mind like a swarm of angry insects, worrying at her as she met his gaze again. Her mind flashed through every time she’d seen his eyes. Had he always looked at her with such… abandon?

“… Gram…” she began, her voice low as she crawled back up her beloved’s quaking body, “Tell me… do ye want tae be wit’ me?”

The man’s eyes went wild, his shaking frame suddenly rigid and firm as he drew himself up to look her square.

“Why would you ever ask me that?”

She let the well-deserved tone of accusation roll off her with a crooked little smile, biting her lower lip as she closed her eyes.

“Nae, I mean it. D’ye want tae be wit’ me. Here, doin’ what yer doin’, what ye’ve been doin’ all o’ this wonderful time?” Her eyes narrowed and she touched his cheek, “Please loverboy, think ‘ard on it. Do ye want this?”

His eyes seemed to soften, but his brow furrowed as he searched his mind. She watched those pretty blue eyes dart back and forth, dutifully reviewing memories and feelings alike.

“I cannot think of a moment to question,” he answered honestly, meeting her gaze anew. “My love, what troubles you? You cannot doubt my devotion after…” he looked briefly down at his marked torso and she laughed softly, cupping his face in both hands now.

“Nae, I dinnae doubt that one minute… I jus’… th’ Abbot an’ I talked a bit ‘bout th’ sidhe, it… put a worry in me heart,” she said and he raised a brow. She smiled at him, and it was full of knives.

“I worried perhaps… I enspelled ye, like th’ boy in one o’ them stories, charmed ye when I bit those bits off o’ yer soul.” She laid her hand over her belly, biting her lip as she met his gaze again.

“I still… ‘ave a bit o’ ye. In me… an’ nae in th’ way I’d like,” she said, a soft giggle softening the edge of the words as the cut the air. To her surprise, Gram smiled. His hand rose to her belly in turn, laying over it with intimate care.

“I know.”

Her eyes snapped open, and an incredulous smile spread across her lips.

“Ye did?”

“Of course.”

“How?”

“I only feel whole when I am touching you.”

Silence reigned as that hit her like a thrown brick. She stared at him, heart pounding in her chest. He smiled at her again and flicked his eyes to and fro.

“Even if you had enthralled me, look around. I dwell in the wake of change most dear, My family heals from old wounds, I stand against my fated obscurity and my home looks to once more be well and whole.” He shrugged with the words and raised an eyebrow.

“If this is enthrallment, then take me body and soul, for it wreaks naught upon the world but good.”

Her smile only widened, showing off those gleaming fangs in a girlish grin, worrying at her lip as she pressed back over him.

“Ain’t fair that ye always know exactly what tae say,” she hissed as she pushed him back down on the bed. She had her answer, and her body demanded he make good on the unspoken promise.

“Let me put my mouth to better use then.”

She gasped, and didn’t have much else to say. He’d tell her no, and until then there was better uses for their lips.