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The couple spilled into the tower room in a rush of giggles and soft touches. The evening had wound down another quarter hour past the toasts as everyone had begun to pair off and find their quarters — Simone pointedly drawing Richart away almost immediately after her outburst about grandchildren. Lidia had slowly occupied Gram’s lap more and more, until she’d quite pointedly bitten his ear, her breath hot and demanding on the exhale. Words hadn’t been needed after that.

The door shut behind them and she gave a gasp as the tall man simply grasped her by the ass, his long fingers filling themselves with the springy muscle of her rump easily as he gave her a good, hard squeeze. She pressed back into those hands, and had enough time cast an impish look up at her husband before those grasping hands turned to lifting — and he spun her around and pressed her hard against the door. He sent the lock home with a resounding clack as he pressed himself between her thighs, pinning her to the portal and stealing her breath with a delving, deep, seeking penetration of an act that could only by necessity be called a kiss.

“I could smell ye all fookin’ night,” She hissed as he came away, biting at his mouth until she caught his lower lip in her sharp teeth and sucked it into her mouth, a needy sound escaping her.“Ye know how fookin’ good ye smell when ye want me?”

“’Tis a wonder you ever smell anything else,” He whispered in a voice ragged with lust, threading his fingers through her hair and taking her mouth again in another deep, searching kiss. She wound her legs around him, driving his hips and that needy, wanting bulge against the equally wanting heat between her thighs. She didn’t have to wait anymore, she had him. He was hers. The only barrier was a few fingers of clothing, and as she dug her new little hooves into his ass, he throbbed against her in a way that made her think that right here against the door was good as anything. Thankfully, Gram found his senses before she simply moved her skirts aside, swinging her away from the door with a long, searching kiss again before he set her on her little hooves once more.

“Undress for me,” He said in a tone that sent a thrill through her spine down to her fluffy tail. “I have felt you, tasted you, but I have yet to gaze upon you wholly, by your own power.” He continued, eyes flashing with animalistic desire. “Bare yourself to me.”

His words caught her surely as his hands had. Doubts flitted into her mind, but those fierce eyes compelled her. She wanted those eyes to be the only one who ever saw her like this. She pulled her sash free deftly, the clingy, thin gown draping loosely around her as moonlight poured in the window of the tower, back-lighting her in silver. With a delicate shrug of her shoulders, she let her gown fall at her hooves, wearing naught but her thin, clingy chemise. Her heart raced as she wound her sash around her arm, turning away — looking up at him through her eyelashes as she let one shoulder slip free, pale flesh glowing like ivory in the moon’s glow.

He stepped forwards, eyes fixated on her like the hunting hound who’s namesake he bore and it felt good. No other man should look at her the way he looked at her, none else deserved it. She let the other shoulder slip as she turned her back to him, the smallclothes falling away from her, leaving her bare and nude in the moonlight — save for that bright, red sash. She wound it around her, staring at him over her shoulder as she folded her hands and the sash over herself. In truth, she already had bared the most worrisome thing. The light played down her back to the downy fluff of the doe’s tail — her tail. It flicked and stood at attention, a silky triangle of fluff above her pert rump. Her hooves clicked loud as she turned to face Gram, her hands covering her nakedness along with the sash.

“This is me, Gram,” she breathed and let the sash fall from her hands, letting they themselves fall away. He stared at her slender body with open desire. She was scarred, more toned — leaner and softer all at once. Her modest bust — barely a handful to her, let alone Gram — was still rivaled by her wide hips, but the new cant and set of her legs made it even more obvious how bottom-heavy her frame was. Her gazelle-like thighs leading down to now gazelle-like hooves, and they gave her a certain sway. “All o’ me.”

She barely had time to say it. As before the sash had reached the floor — Gram had reached her. His hands were so, so strong. He grasped her, felt along her flesh as he had before — but now without reservation.

“Magnificent,” Gram breathed to her as he took her mouth with his own once more and Lidia melted up against him, letting their tongues dance as her beloved husband felt her out, body and soul. His fingers slid over her tail, and her back arched suddenly, stars flashing before her eyes. Keying to it, his lips found her throat and his fingers the downy appendage. He’d freed her mouth for a purpose as he gave it an experimental tug. Her answering cries rang off the walls of the tower — nobody had touched her like that ever, and let alone on a limb that had only existed for a fortnight at best! Her mind drowned in the sensation, alarmingly aware of every single digit of his hand even before the other grasped her rear again. His teeth found her earlobe, and he gave her tail a good, firm pull. She screamed, and her elated voice rang out with a smile as she grasped at him for support, her legs quaking and uncertain.

“Nae fair yer able tae do that without even touchin’ my soft bits,” she gasped to him, looking up with naked avarice in her eyes. He panted, lips flushed with the efforts of making the score of red marks now littering her throat.

“It seems soft enough to me,” he said, and gave it another pull — and she gave another yelp of desire. She dug her nails into his chest and pushed back.

“Ye seen all o’ me… an’ now, I want tae see all o’ ye…” She said, reaching up to the laces on his collar, “Th’ Lady gave ye tae me, an’ I’m gonna unwrap ye proper.” She said, and there was a fervor to her motions. Off came the gloves first, her gift to him. She flashed him a hungry look as she took each gloved hand, pulling the fingers clear one by one before she dropped them, also one by one. They landed on the floor, hand-in-hand atop her sash. She took his hands in hers, uneven, mismatched. She held them both, even as he tried to flinch his new, black-shelled fingers away. She took those segmented digits with purpose, and pressed it to her face with a needy mewl, kissing down each curve until she mouthed the tip –- taking the talon between her teeth as she cupped his other to her face. Her eyes captured his, and that black-taloned hand traveled lower — and was the first to fill its palm with her modest bust. Gram moaned, and to whit so did she. Her nipple pebbled up and grew hard immediately, and she leaned up close to him, encouraging him to feel, to squeeze.

“Touch me, loverboy. I want tae feel ye on me,” her eyes burned into his as her felt her heart begin to pound beneath her bosom, “I want tae feel ye in me.”

His hands roamed then as she went back to work, and she found herself pausing to simply moan in ecstasy as she unwound his sash, untucked his top — and found his fingers playing along her tail, or a thumb caressing her nipple. He aided her and away went that dashing shirt, leaving his chest bare to her, and immediately her fingers dug into his chest hair, her nostrils flaring as she buried her face in the strong, powerful scent of Gram. Her tail twitched to and fro as she dug lower. His long, lean, muscular torso spared no moment of attention as she could not simply be sated with kisses. Licks weren’t even sufficient as she went lower — the Cavalier’s voice raised in shock and delight as she found satisfaction only in biting. New red marks blossomed across his flesh and his fingers found her hair and ears in ways both bracing and yearning as she mouthed and nipped at his flesh. Chest, belly, the runnels of his hips in particular found her both nipping and being handled in return, Gram’s sounds shocked and delighted. She could no longer endure the anticipation, her eyes finding his from he knees, palms spread across his hipbones. She could feel him pulsing against her cheek.

His trousers peeled away, her hands trembling as she revealed her husband to her gaze — he sprang up, the aching need of countless nights of soft touches and pleasured sighs with no satisfaction throbbing in that veined, alabaster length. Pale like the rest of him, long and sleek like the rest of him. She had a plan for this, she’d read all sorts of things in that dirty little book of his — but as she knelt there, all those plans fell away. She knelt there, pulling his trousers and boots away with his manhood just… pulsing there, mimicking the racing beat of his heart and she was unable to look away. She’d seen glimpses, and of course their tawdry pawings and touchings but… there was always restraint, teasing and now as the last of his clothing joined hers on the floor, she was simply infatuated.

Gram’s first sound was an arresting gasp as she buried her face in his pubic bone, one hand gently cupping his sac as she breathed in the deep, concentrated scent of him. His fingers found her hair as she nestled her face in the thatch of hair there for a moment. All the efforts, the lusts and rigor of the day had practically concentrated into a haze to her sensitive nose, and she was as intoxicated by it as she had ever been from any pipe or cup. “God in ‘is heaven loverboy, yer marvelous,” She breathed, her mouth ghosting up the shaft… and up, and up. Lady’s Teats, how was this going to fit inside of her? She mouthed it softly, the flesh silky and smooth across such a wonderfully hard core. Gram’s voice rose again and his hands dug into her hair as she curiously peeled back the foreskin from his length, mouthing the tip with a moan of her own. Her hands were busy along the whole length of shaft, touching, stroking, squeezing as she would while the smell, the taste of him drugged her with desire and she moaned desperately as her hazy mind recalled the bits she’d read in his tawdry little book.

She looked up at him again, her soft, flushed lips around the throbbing end of his shaft. She could feel his heart pulsing on her tongue and the look on his face was a mix of craving and drunk-eyed bliss. She swirled her tongue along that spot under the soft head, and his entire torso went tense — what a sight. She did it again, and got another beautiful show of that entire span of lean, powerful muscle rippling and contracting from hips to throat, and a lovely cry of delight to punctuate it. His fingers dug into her hair again, and his new talons scratched at her scalp — and that caused her to rise up on her knees a bit. Her eager moan lovingly stifled by his cock as the intense sensation scrambled her thoughts and coaxed her to do more of whatever would make him do it again. Deeper into her mouth he went, and back came the wonderful feeling of claws in her hair. Her hands raked up those flexing muscles, and her mouth dipped further. Her eyes locked on his quaking body as she suddenly was brought up short — by the tip of his shaft hitting the back of her throat.

“God’s Teeth,” Gram’s voice rang out, and she was pulled out of her haze momentarily by the epithet — Gram never swore, or quite rarely at the least. The moment of clarity let her take in the act she’d been caught up in wholly. The feel of his belly beneath her nails, his own in her hair — his cock in her mouth, throbbing and full. It prodded at the back of her throat and she did not find it unpleasant. She met his desperate gaze again, and slowly bobbed up and down, each hilting prodding at the back of her throat again and again. Discomfort warned her away from being too ambitious, but the feeling of that soft, silky tip just barely nudging the back of her throat was rapidly fogging her mind again, her nails raking down his belly as she was treated to another beautiful display. Her mouth watered — as did another place as she felt him throb, throwing back his head and bracing himself on shaking legs against the nearby chair.

She felt a fire ignite in her belly, that familiar flame stoking her need to a fever pitch. Her thighs were glistening with her own need as she switched from giving to taking. She pushed deep, deep to the point of pain, tears sprang to her eyes — and a cry of shocked delight escaped her loverboy. She felt him throb at the entrance to her throat, and suddenly the rest of her felt so very, very empty. She drew back with a gasp, his shaft bobbing in the air, glistening and slick. Perfect. Gram looked down at her panting just in time to watch her slitted, sidhe eyes lock to his — and dilate bright and round.

She leapt upon him, those springy new gazelle-like legs letting her scale him, climb him with ease. Up onto him she went, grasping him by the shoulders, swinging her legs around his waist and clamping herself there tightly. She grinned at him, and it was as Sidhe an expression as she’d ever worn in the moments before she took him by the ears and kissed him. Her tongue drove and sought his, as her twitching little tail flicked to and fro — and then down, pushing his wet, aching shaft pointedly against her bare nethers. She moaned with gusto, with need into his mouth as she rocked her hips, riding the sopping line of her slit across that shaft as she desperately tried to align him with her entrance. Her aggressive kiss turned rapidly to needy whimpers of frustration as he slipped off her slick folds again and again, each time giving her a jolt of pleasure and want. It was so close. Gram however, had other ideas, and after a moment, he grasped her.

By the tail.

Lidia’s brain went haywire and she squealed into his mouth, desperately jerking and grinding her hips against him, grinding her swollen pearl against his shaft — oh she needed him, needed him bad, another hard tug brought her mewling away from his lips, eyes dazed. He found his feet beneath her and she was no longer the captor, and weightlessness took her. The world turned upside down and suddenly she was on her back, looking up at the canopy of the bed, Gram was atop her and everything was suddenly right. He kissed her, and the force of it pushed her back into the pillows. She met it, trying to take as much as she gave, her hands finding his hair as it spilled down across her throat, chest and belly, shaking with desire. It was Gram’s turn to explore, and his mouth was not sated with her lips, and down it went. Familiar territory first, he’d kissed her throat with the sureness of the dozens of times he’d mapped that part of her out… but lower he went still. She gave a sudden squeal when he stopped to suckle her collarbone — his hair pooling across her breasts, where he paused again. She met his gaze with wide, vulnerable eyes.

“It tasks me.” He breathed, his blue eyes like chips of burning phosphor behind the curtain of his hair. “This impossible, wonderful little body.” His hands found her, he was so strong. “So flexible, so alluring.” She gasped as he squeezed her. “Daring me, begging me to handle you gently, roughly, as my own.” He continued urgently, his hands kneading her as he felt up along her hips, her taut belly, and at last — her wee little breasts. She’d been right, barely a handful for him, even though the feel of his strong, calloused hands upon them made her eyes blur and her body arch beneath him.

Gram found instead, they fit rather well in his mouth.

The tower once more rang with her sweet cries as he gently mouthed her nipple, hot, electric pulses ran through her body and spots flashed ahead of her eyes. She’d been an unkissed virgin before Gram, not so much as a summer flirtation, and he was here shattering every girly fantasy to slivers, she hadn’t even known what lovemaking was. He doted on each of her breasts in turn, and she was a writhing mess of red hair and gnashing fangs as he licked, sucked and even lightly bit his way around the sensitive mounds. She rose up off the bed with little, ardent gasps as he tugged at her nipples ever-so-lightly with his teeth. Her eyes were unfocused and distant as she dragged that black, hard-shelled hand of his up to her face, hugging it and sinking her own fangs into the durable plate with a whimper, gasping out against his sidhe-wrought fingers as he drove her to the edge of madness with teeth and tongue.

“Gram, Gram please, I’m comin’ apart…” she begged, fangs gnashing against his armored knuckle. “It feels like a fookin’ forge twixt me nethers…”

“Let me cool them then,” He returned, and his mouth left her teats and down he went, giving her scant, delirious moments to catch her breath as he peppered her lithe, scarred belly with fairy-light kisses. She panted, eyes on the ceiling as she swam back from the deep seat of sensation he’d plunged her into, when she realized where he was going. She struggled to find her breath, struggling to find words as her mind and her body were at war. His lips passed her hipbone and she gave a sudden gasp of fearful need and her legs splayed wide even as her mind begged for respite.

“Nae… nae Loverboy I’ll, I’ll break apart…” she pleaded, and cruelly he ignored her. She felt his mustaches brush the bald flesh of her mons and she had but moments to brace before the world fell out from under her again. Her swollen pearl vanished into those soft pouty lips and she transposed their places from when she’d tasted him the same — her fingers dug into his hair and his head betwixt her thighs. She screamed again, a keening sort of sound where she could find no words — at least when she was not whimpering his name in a fevered mantra into the bedding. His hair pooled on her lap, over her thighs and down across her belly and it only added to the sensation as he devoured her. His tongue dipped low to her virgin passage and then up in slow strokes along the underside of her aching nub, all the while his lips pursed around it, suckling and nursing it. Her hooves splayed and pointed erratically as he rearranged her brain from her loins, feeling herself already building towards a titanic climax. She crashed against the shores of reason, and her eyes finally focused.

“Nae, nae Gram… I dinnae want tae finish yet...” she moaned, and this time he looked up. Lady’s Teats, looking down at him nursing her pink folds made that fire in her belly stoke to a roar. No wonder he’d throbbed like a mad thing in her mouth when she’d done the same. She bit her lip, and spread her legs even wider, reaching down to part her folds. “… I need ye inside me first…”

Her loverboy didn’t let her down. Those pretty blue eyes never left hers as he laid himself atop her. His hand found hers, left to left — both their rings gleaming in the moonlight as she wrapped her springy doe-like legs around his waist. She was bare for him, body, heart and soul at last. He kissed her, this time softly, sweetly. She felt his tip meet her entrance, his deft fingers guiding the formidable organ against it. He drew her to his lips anew and shifted his weight, she felt him press down on her oh-so-nicely, a firm weight that made her feel safe — but another sensation came with it, and it dragged a deep, mewling groan into his mouth. He was so big, but he went slow, rolling and undulating his hips as that silky-smooth tip pried her petals apart, each time deeper, deeper, and deeper still as she slowly took from her the last vestige of her maidenhood. She gasped at the sudden twisting shift within her. A hot sensation of something giving. A pinch of discomfort… and then suddenly her eyes popped open as she was simply, utterly full.

“Like you were made for me…” he moaned in her ear, and she felt him somehow go deeper still. He bottomed out and she felt her insides flex around the invading member and she could do nothing but squeeze down around him. Oh the sweet sounds he made as she did, not that she heard them over her own cries — legs locking around his waist, arms going desperately around his neck as she gasped his name again and again. The sound of their union was suddenly wet and loudly so as he began to make love to her properly, his hips driving into her slowly, powerfully. He wasn’t given much of a choice with her nails in his back and hooves crossed over his ass.

“Yer… so fookin’ perfect… yer corin’ me out…” she gasped to him, meeting his gaze as she squeezed tightly. “I love ye so much…”

“You made to be loved…” he moaned, and with a particularly deep thrust she felt him make contact with the deeper places of her body, so deep there was a visible bulge in her belly that drew a hissing mewl from the little changeling as her husband’s breath hissed out against her lips, “… So love you I shall, as deeply and often as you can stand.”

Words failed her as she gnashed her teeth against the pleasure, the overwhelming sensation of him all around her, inside her. She clung to him and whimpered, dragging nearly bloody tracks across his back ass he gently destroyed her. He was so strong, so firm. His movements were irresistible as a landslide, and he buried her just as surely beneath him. It was not fancy, it lacked any of the flowery bits of the poetry in his dirty little book, but she didn’t care. Each movement inside of her rearranged her innards in the shape of the man she loved, and that stretching, electric pleasure drew fresh cries from her each time he hilted — each time that wonderful, silky tip touched the entrance to her womb. Her eyes dilated and she stared into his eyes as she felt him throbbing on edge — she was a wet, slopping mess of panting and trembling as she begged him in a voice so desperate it bordered on pain.

“I need it loverboy… don’t stop… do it inside… make me a mum…!” she cried between thrusts, each entreaty matched to a squeeze of her inner muscles. Her tiny hooves clenched and dug into his rump as she exercised every last bit of her strength — and pulled him to the hilt inside of her. She forced him to feel every inch of her clenching, rippling passage as she squealed in his ear, the brink of climax upon her but she couldn’t quite reach its edge. Gram however, as always — rescued her from the precipice. He drove into her hard, bracing his hands on the bed above her, his hips rolled in a motion that made her eyes see flashes same as if he’d struck her across the face — each hilting bumping his pubic bone hard against her swollen pearl. Each bump jolted her with overwhelming pleasure and her brain quite simply lost what was up, what was down. Where she was, what day of the week. All she felt was Gram. Around her. Inside of her. She was drowning in him, and as his own cries grew more insistent, as his motions more needy, she realized he was just as lost within her.

“Lidia…” he rasped and she felt the moment he reached the point of no return, his lips so close to hers as he spoke his mustache was tickling her cheeks. Eyes unfocused, she held onto him tightly — inside and out. She felt him throb and twitch and the thrusts suddenly came fast, urgent and hard. She was gone, away on a sea of bliss that she only crested the surface of to gasp and squeal before she went under again, empty just long enough to long for him before he pushed her into the bedding again. His climax hit her as surely as if he’d balled his fist and struck her. He drove into her and she welcomed him, reflexively by squeezing — and he made a sound of such need she thought she’d hurt him.

She had not. Lady’s Teats had she not.

The final thrust came and so did he, the feeling popped her eyes open, parted her lips in a wordless, soundless cry as she felt every pulse and pump. Every accompanying throb as he ground his sensitive tip against her clenching, desperate innards — seeking the sensation of her deepest depths. He filled her like one of the puffed pasteries he was so fond of, every crack and crevice of her quim was awash in his seed, and the feeling of it spurting against her deepest recesses, his hips grinding against her pearl, the sheer understanding of the act and the goal.

“Loverboy, I… I… oh, Gram… Gram… GRAM!” She screamed one more time, his name rang off the walls like the tolls of a bell as her hero took her from the edge with him. Gram jerked atop her and inside as she clamped down — legs and innards alike — keeping him inside, milking and kneading his wonderful, perfect cock as it filled her. She lost the ability to speak, all that came out was mad, rambling Middlelands nonsense interrupted by biting, gnashing teeth seeking the nape of his neck. She bit him hard, hard enough that he cried out anew — and it earned her one last, powerful gush inside.

They came down slowly, her teeth still buried in the nape of that beautiful neck as she wrung out the last, shuddering quivers of the strongest climax she’d ever experienced. Green eyes dilated wide, yet unseeing as she was focused entirely on the sensation within her. It took a few moments until she regained enough of her brain to let go, Gram gasping softly where he lay atop her as she pulled her fangs from his flesh. She’d only just not broken the skin — there would be a rather visible bruise there, one very obviously shaped like her teeth. The powerful man made a soft sound of delight as instinctively, she licked the wound, kissing it… and cementing in her mind that this would not be the last time she marked him so.

“Mouthy little redcap, loose in my bed.” Gram moaned to her, and that brought her out of it with an absolutely involuntary giggle — which made her suddenly aware of how full she was, drawing a gasp from her and Gram alike as they gently came apart.

“Lady’s Teats!” Lidia exclaimed as Gram rolled on his side, a shudder left her as he withdrew — and with him came the sticky mess, gushing out of her. “Iffin’ I’m nae pregnant after that, it nae gonna take long after…” she breathed and he of all things, blushed a bit shyly as he stroked a hand over her belly — leaving the sticky, creamy mess he’d made of her nethers on display. She detected a bit of pride in his face, and she grinned at him delightedly.

“It was an event long coming.” Gram answered her simply and she tittered at him like a schoolgirl.

“It was long goin’ in too,” she purred, eyes flashing at him again as her heart slowed and her body settled — but did not cool. She most notably felt that fire in her lower belly had only dimmed, “In an’ out an’ everywhere in between…”

“You were so… hungry,” Gram murmured to her, his hair a wonderful mess around his face as he stroked her belly. “You… bit me, like a wild thing. Like a sidhe.” He said and she froze, there was heat in his voice, he trembled as he spoke… and she saw his member twitch and raise a bit. “I liked it.”

“Mmn… an’ here I was about tae apologize fer markin’ ye all up…” she said, the rest of her marks had faded to red little spots, but that one — that one would linger. She laid her hand over his, her ring gleaming brightly. “Nae like I need more o’ a mark on ye than I got.”

“I am the one who invited the hungry little redcap to my bed, and my heart,” he said, leaning in close to her, the little changeling tipping her mouth invitingly up, “I wanted her hungry little fangs in me.” He said, and kissed her good and proper. She was a good girl, but the desire to bite him again right then was strong — but that would be too easy. Besides… Gram was a very, very good kisser.

He kissed her like that for a long time. They lie together side by side, kissing and tangled loosely together. The scent of lovemaking was all around them, filling her nose with delights and mind with the still-fresh memories of the very first time she’d felt a man’s touch. She’d been spoiled, she knew. No bumbling hayseed would have known the things Gram did with his mouth, his tongue, had she managed to entice some farmboy to roll with her behind a warehouse. She’d saved herself, and she’d been rewarded for it… but she had been waiting a long, long time. Too long.

“Gram,” she breathed to her lover, both of them dozing some minutes later. His eyes flashed open, alert and attentive as she bit her lip around a grin at him. Deftly, she rolled over onto her knees — hugging one of his pillows and splaying her legs wide. Her tail lifted slowly, pulling a sticky strand of her newly-stoked arousal and his own previous mess up from her loins as she flagged it high, green eyes wicked and hungry. “Again.”

Gamely, her hero rose to the challenge again. Grasping her hips, he slid behind her, thumbs pressing into her ass, kneading it. He really liked her rump, and she moaned prettily for him as he did. “Some curse,” he mused and she gasped — the new, alien sensations of his sidhe-wrought fingers came together with the equally new, equally alien, equally overwhelming sensations of her new tail. He ran those fingers along its downy fluff with an approving sound, and she let out an unladylike whimper… oh he’d noticed the little trim they gave her. He liked it. “One might think the Queen of Seelie had never lain with a man before…” he said, and Lidia perked up.

“W-wha’ makes ye say that loverboy?” She asked and gave a little mewl of need as she felt that throbbing tip press against her entrance once more. She literally heard his grin.

“She has given me a wonderful handle.”

That waxen-fingered, lovely new hand snapped shut around her trimmed little scut tail, and he pulled. The sound that came out of her as her tail went back, and his cock went forward was barely human, definitely undignified, and entirely honest. Gram did not hesitate one bit, as if the sting of her fangs had galvanized him, he kept a firm grip on her upturned tail as he simply rutted her with power and purpose. Gram could do nothing ugly however, and even now he could not simply fuck her — he made her his. Her voice raised joyously, smiling around the squeals as he just pounded her properly, every thrust hitting just the right depth as he began to bottom out in her. It was a wet, sticky ordeal and soon his heavy sack swung in time with his hips.

Her eyes rolled back. Her tongue lolled. If she had not found God before, she would have in that moment.

“Nnn… how is it better?!” She wailed into the pillows between mewling cries and frankly whoreish noises, but she couldn’t help it. Every thrust at this angle — hips upturned just right — drove him to her core, hit that place deep inside that made her legs go like festival jelly… and it also made his lovely coinpurse bounce off her swollen little bud. Every. Single. Time. She was going to go mad, her husband was going to drive the brains right out of her head with the end of his cock. Gram it seemed was also quite taken with the angle and position because he was already throbbing inside of her as she convulsed and cried out on his every thrust and motion.

“God must love you, because nothing could feel so divine as this without his touch…” Gram moaned, and she raised her voice in a hymn of ecstasy, simply holding on as her beloved made her his. He yanked back on her tail again and she arched her back in a pretty bow of bare flesh and moonlit eroticism. Her entire body strained in wonderful effort as she trilled a cry that was only barely human, her innards twisting ‘round his shaft in a desperate, supplicating want for more. Gram answered her with a cry of his own, his free hand sliding down her body, grasping her, feeling her. Her tail was the anchor to which he drove into her, and every thrust blurred her sight and blanked her mind. She stopped being able to form words after a few minutes, and time lost its meaning.

All she knew was Gram, Gram, Gram. It was good. It was wonderful.

Suddenly, she was moving again, she squealed as she moved — but Gram’s wonderful, throbbing member did not. His strong hands drew her back to him, he turned her face to his as that new, wonderful hand grasped one of breasts from behind. He kissed her with a need that she echoed, and he grasped her instead by the arms and pulled. She gave a keening, almost pained cry as he drove himself to the absolute limits of her body and held her like that, still and squirming. She hugged every single hairsbreadth of him, her folds nestled down against him flush. She gasped, unable to form words as her eyes went wide as plates at the sheer erotic visual of that bulge he put in her. It was a teeny thing — but she couldn’t miss it, it was inside of her and that part of it was anything but teeny.

“Yer breakin’ me apart loverboy…” She moaned in that frozen, stretching reprieve. His chest heaved behind her as he stayed like that, buried and hilted inside of her, clearly on the edge and catching his breath. She writhed on his impaling member, biting her lip as he kept that firm grip upon her. A devilish notion crossed her mind, and with a faint little twist of her hips — she clenched. Gram cried out sharply as if she’d bitten him again and the throb she got in return put a fire in her eyes and her belly. She swirled her hips again to the opposite and with a wicked little glance up at him — gave another good, hard squeeze, pressing down a bit on the bump in her belly for emphasis. Gram’s grip wavered and he made a soft noise of need that was almost boyish in its vulnerability. Lidia took her opening.

She planted her hooves, and threw herself backwards into his lap. She squealed in mischief and sheer delight as that forced him even harder within her, and tottered him over. Gram gave a soft yelp as he landed heavily back in the bedding, and Lidia pulled away from him. She gave a lurid, downright filthy moan as he slid wetly out of her, and she whirled around on him. Straddling his hips with a little gasp, panting and flashing green eyes at him full of lust. “Gonna break me in twine like that loverboy….” she gasped, rolling and squirming atop him before she reached back and cupped his shaft under her tail. She had the lay of things now, and with a little rise, she tipped him into her anew. “… Look.” She gasped and sank back down on him hard. Gram arched up and his fingers clenched into overstimulated claws as she drove him back up inside her to the limit, hitting so hard she pushed the air from her lungs in a sharp gasp. “Look.” She demanded as that bulged formed in her belly again, her fingers tracing across it, demanding Gram’s wild eyes lock upon it.

“Look at what ye do tae me…”

Gram’s response was a sound of absolutely gorgeous need as he arched up beneath her, but she clamped her thighs down around him, arresting his motion. He might be nearly double her weight and size, but she had him quite literally by the balls, settling back on her thighs in such a way that his coinpurse rested on the pads of her little hooves. That and her new little scut tail folded neatly down to tickle and caress his sac — a sensation that drew a gasp from him. She began then, in her drunken, pleasure-hazed mind, to think Gram may have been on to something on this being not much of a ‘curse’ but some kind of twisted faerie boon. She giggled in spite of herself. Of course her mother would be on top.

“Lidia, God’s Blood…” Gram hissed and she silenced him with another little twist of her hips and innards, getting a pretty little bowing of his belly in response, she tutted at him and leaned down close over his lips, sliding forwards to reach them — and to leave naught in her but his pretty purple tip.

“Language.” She taunted him, and with a little gasp of effort, gave that pulsing tip a wringing squeeze, and bit his lower lip. Hard.

“Mouthy little redcap…” He hissed out around a sound of pleasure as she started to roll her hips. She was hardly some perfect temptress, but all that sidhe grace had to be good for something other than second-story work.

“Oh ye ‘ave a mouthy little redcap in yer bed alright,” she purred at him, raking her nails down his chest, “An’ ye’ve done riled her up an’ made her hungry.” She continued that motion as she sat back with another startled little mewl of delight as all of him went inside of her anew. “Ye got yer fill o’ puttin’ hands on me, graspin’ and handlin’ me all proper…” she said, her rhythm wasn’t perfect, but she managed to turn slow little motions with her hips, like drawing an eight on his belly with her pink nub. “Now, it’s my turn.” She rose up and down, and it took a few tries to find the right rhythm — but Gram didn’t seem to mind. She just experimented, moaning as she took control, hands on his fantastic belly, hips rising and falling as she pleased. She twisted, turned, and swung her body this way and that in subtle little motions that thrust him into her at equally subtle different angles. Everything was new and wonderful, and she wanted to try it all.

Gram was no idle participant robbed of his driving role, if anything he seemed to revel in the attention as she drew her fingers across him, and her innards around him. He was practically showing off, writhing and arching beneath her on particularly deep strokes, giving her a beautiful look at all of those expanses of rippling belly and flat pectorals. She found she rather liked those deep strokes as well and soon she’d found a long, sinuous, motion that drove him into her to the very entrance of her womb. They were both afire with delight, the missteps and overbalances only making their lovemaking feel all the more real, more natural. Gram at last raised his hands, eyes foggy with need and splayed a hand across her belly. She grinned at him drunkenly and slid it lower, letting him feel the bump in her belly each time she dropped her hips. He let out a sound that was positively savage at that, letting his head fall back as he grasped her hips, and began to assist her in the motions. She let all pretense of wickedness fall away and mirrored him, head dipping back. Sensation guided the motion all on its own.

They rose and fell together, no words only touch. She took him as far as she could, found the feelings of him rearranging her, reshaping her to his dimensions irresistible. The sensations of her coaxing him along with clenches and flutters gratifying. All the pain of a thousand lonely nights dissolving beneath this shared pleasure. She found his hands, and he hers — they met eachother’s eyes and she began to ride him in earnest. She felt a finality to it, something… right about the end coming there, like that. His eyes ravished her all on their own, and she took her own turn to show off. Arching and moaning like a wild thing for him, hitting high-pitched notes of need as he bottomed out in her, as she gave in to the pleasure. God and Lady she loved this man, and this was the most elemental expression of it. Their fingers laced together and she shuddered desperately one more time.

“I can feel it loverboy…” she gasped in between faint chirps of delight, her pace going fast, erratic, desperate now. She needed it, needed him. “I can feel it boiling up in ye…” he was throbbing again, just the same way and his face was a beautiful mask of vulnerability. Lips parted in a disbelieving pout, eyes barely open as he rode the edge of sanity with her. He was beautiful like this, unabashed and true. She felt herself going over the edge and her voice gave out into naught but cries of delight. She crashed over the edge on a final impaling stroke, clamping and wringing around her beloved’s member as the longer, more drawn out act lead to a longer, more drawn out climax. She arched into a full bridge, hands coming away from Gram’s to drag desperately into her hair, clawing and pulling at it for a grounding in the sea of ecstasy… it just… kept going! Waves rippling into waves, rippling into yet more waves of pleasure. Gram broke not long after, and his hands found her hips, stilling her as she was once more forced down onto him fully. She felt his tip kiss her womb again and her voice raised eagerly as she was once more filled with gushes of hot, welcome seed. He held her as he finished and she wrung every drop from him with her own, seemingly never-ending climax — babbling a string of nonsense and girlish moans all the while.

They came down slowly, Lidia falling forward onto his chest and clinging desperately to her husband as the lingering tremors shook her. He shifted as if to pull himself from her and she hissed.

“Nae, leave it,” her eyes fluttered open lazily. “It feels so… silky…” she shivered and her insides gave a quiver all their own. “Maybe it’ll quicken better there iffin’ ye stay...”

“So serious…” he sighed happily, trailing his fingers along her back. She bit her lip and made a happy sound.

“Dead serious, a right army o’ little serious-faced totters,” she said, clinging close. “With black hair an’ stern chins, an-”

“Green eyes and joyous smiles, just like their mother.” Gram cut in with a soft little kiss, “Hooves, tails and all.” She made an indelicate sound of happiness at that, and it set them both to giggling — a very curious sensation when one is inside another. Trembling and laughing nonetheless, she looked up at him from her place across his chest.

“All o’ that an’ ye still want ‘em tae look like me?” She asked, “Face o’ a monster?”

“A monster or a murderer, who’s face would you rather they have?” he challenged, and she didn’t need it spelled out for her. Gram wouldn’t be like that, not after Karnov. She smiled and cupped his face.

“Yer a good man, Gram.” She said and he laughed.

“I am a man of ice and stone, save for this spot, right here.” He said, taking her hand and placing it over his heart, “Where one mouthy little redcap keeps a fire burning, inviting all her friends to sit.”

She had never thought of it that way, Gram seemed quite content before, even well-liked. The Black Dog had naught but respect of his peers at Fort Ivory… but she did not truly see him be friends with anyone save perhaps Martin — until Bart had come screaming out of the Glade with the Lady and with them came adventure. She really had just, scooped him into her bag of friends and found family.

“Ye… were lonesome.” She said, and he smiled at her.

“Yes.” Was the answer he gave. “By choice at first, by habit after, and by consequence later.” He stroked her face, searching. “I was… not unlike my father before I met you. A man of… utilitarian feelings. Utilitarian love.”

“Oh Loverboy that cannae be true…” she breathed to him, and he shook his head with a sad smile.

“Ask the Lady when next we meet, we spoke. She can see it, the ice around the home she built in my heart.” He said and gave a shrug, “I was fated to be alone. Cold and alone… and then you came along.” He smiled, and god it was beautiful.

“What did I do? I’m nae that good a kisser…” she hedged, and Gram smiled with a shrug.

“It was fate. I serve the Queen of Love, and in that she had seen fit to send to me the one creature capable of lighting the hearth, in that icy little home in my heart.” He said and stroked her face, “I… never thought to be warm, like others were. I am now, warmer at least.” He drew her close, nestling his nose in her hair. “You have given me far more than I gave you.”

“Ye gave me a home, that’s more than ye can ever know.” She breathed against him, and held him tightly. “God, I ne’er even knew what I had missed, I would nae ‘ave ever iffin’ ye’d not come along…”

“It had to happen.” Gram said with absolute certainty, and she looked up at him.

“How d’ye know?”

“Simple. We are the heroes.”

She broke into another fit of shocking, quaking giggles, cuddling closer to her beloved as he joined in.

~ ~ ~

Far into the night, they lie together, ensconced in a nest of bedding and tangled limbs. The lights low, the moon beyond the rim of the walls, leaving all in darkness.

Lidia’s eyes snapped open, green slits like knives in the dark. She sat up suddenly, her breath catching on a chill. Her breath misted misted in the night air. She looked over to Gram in an instant, and saw him asleep still, his face pale but fine against the unnatural chill. Instinct warred against sense to wake him, instead… she trusted instinct. Tucking the blanket up beneath his neck, she slipped from the bed.

She promptly nearly fell, her legs quaking as she touched the chilly flagstones — a gasping cry barely stifled as she caught herself on the post of the bed. The jellied legs were then joined by a sticky, wet, sliding sensation inside that gave her an entirely different kind of shiver from the cold. She had been up all night making love, and she stole another look at Gram’s sleeping form before quickly stealing away to the basin to clean up briefly. The unnatural chill in the air felt familiar…

Haste took her to one of the thick housecoats — now one in her size resting near Gram’s, and she grabbed up her sash from the floor to belt it closed over her nakedness. Something was out there. It pulled at her senses, raised the hairs on her neck. A predator of her kind. A sidhe — yet not one of the courtesans. She paused a moment in fierce debate, and then as she exited the door — she snatched her saber from its place near the door, stuffing it down in her sash as she pulled open the door.

A trill met her ears, as she opened the door. Tirrah and Brohn hopped into view, the former alert and girded for battle in her tiny little tabard.

“Ye felt it too?” Lidia ventured, the little Fomori’s assenting chirp confirming it, she made a jerking motion with her chin and extended an arm. Brohn warbled and quickly hopped up to her shoulder, Tirrah and he taking either side on high alert. They left like that, Lidia urgently pacing, keeping her housecoat closed with a spare hand as she followed that sensation like a compass. There was nobody about, she didn’t even see patrols or watchmen… or torches. It took her a moment to realize she’d been relying entirely on her sidhe eyes for some time since she’d left Gram. Unnatural cold. Unnatural darkness.

She rounded a corner at speed, finding the wicket gate to the concourse and drawbridge unlactched and unmanned. Furowing her brow determinedly, she drew her saber and stepped towards it, the steel giving her comfort. Pushing it wide… all beyond was darkness. Darkness total, absolute blackness. Save for a single place of absolute nothing. A deeper darkness that suddenly filled her with familiarity, she relaxed at once and even found herself smiling — as a pair of white phoshor eyes winked open in that place of further inky depths.

“’Ello, Black Midnight,” Lidia said to the Rider, her eyes adjusting as they had back in the Sidhewood.

HELLO, CHILD OF SUMMER.

“I thought so, Baba Yaga wants tae see me I s’pose?” She asked, gathering her thick housecoat around her more properly — now more than ever wishing she’d stopped to dress properly. The Rider inclined his head, more seen by the motion of his eyes than much detail she could observe. She glanced around and folded her arms. Tirrah gave a gnashing little snarl from her shoulder, the Summer fae rankling at the presence of Winter. “I nae am about tae walk halfway ‘cross the Heartlands tae see her right now, so I’m figurin’ this is one o’ those ‘the forest ‘tis large as it needs be’ moments?” She ventured — she’d spent enough time around sidhe at this point.

IT IS INDEED, SUCH A THING. COME. I WILL BE SWIFT AND THE RIDE SURE.

She sighed, Tirrah’s gnashing mandibles reflected her feelings, but in her heart she expected something like this… but perhaps not so soon. Better sooner than later she supposed. The Rider extended his hand, and she took it, like shaking hands with shadow. Hoof in his stirrup, she swung herself sidesaddle behind him, leaning her shoulder into the man.

“Brenen sends her regards, by th’ by.” She said softly, and the dark Rider reined his steed into the darkness, but for a moment she felt him pause. There was an appreciation in it.

A WARM SENTIMENT IN MY COLD VIGIL.

Good enough she supposed. Leaning against him and holding onto the saddle for purchase, she let the fairies take her, one more time.

~ ~ ~

The blackness was total, the sensation of motion smooth and unnatural, she drifted in it and dozed as the chill threatened to pull her beneath its blankets forever. Tirrah and Brohn huddled in her housecoat and she didn’t begrudge the poking feet or bristles for the chill.

The darkness lightened after a time, and she was there again. Before the picket fence of sticks and bones. The bizarre chicken-legged hut already settled, the lights within warm and inviting. Lidia hopped down, her tiny charges swarming out from her coat as she tightened her sash… and she paused.

“Jus’ so ye know,” she said to the Rider as he wheeled to go, stopping him in place. “I loved wit’ me heart,” she said and raised her hand, where the band of gold gleamed brightly.

AND REAPED BOTH REWARD AND CONSEQUENCE BOLDLY, BE WELL CHILD OF SUMMER.

Then he was gone. She turned to the house and straightened herself, and walked boldly to the door. She knocked, of course. It was polite. There was a long pause, and she tugged her saber free from her sash, and leaned it pointedly against the stoop — the house shuddered, as if the chicken-legged hut didn’t like the touch of steel any better than the Sidhe who made it. The door opened, and as before — the little girl was there, or rather her shoulder, arm and a twist of her hair, the door blocking the bit of her face as she turned to call back behind her.

“It’s the Summer girl again!” The Maiden’s voice was as cheery as ever, Lidia straightened up a bit as the door swung open for her, the little faceless child springing away to play in a corner full of dolls and toys. She closed the door behind her, Tirrah at full alert — the Least Knight of Seelie practically vibrating with hostility.

“Shh, ‘tis fine.” She said and looked to the kitchens, The Mother stood there as before, stirring a pot, the hanging cookery obscuring her visage as well, “Th’ Greatmother?” She asked, and was pointed again to the small sitting area before. The shadows there were deep as before, Lidia turned with her hands on her hips. “Mighty bold, takin’ the Queen o’ Seelie’s scion from her weddin’ bed, even fer ye.”

A sharp grinding shriek came, and a flare lit the darkness. Baba Yaga’s too-large, ancient face raised an eyebrow above a glowing pipe bowl.

“You are one to speak of boldness child, carrying a Summerborn directly into mine home.”

“She’s wit’ me, I’m nae wee little redcap nae more.” She answered implacably, folding her arms across her chest, Tirrah mirroring the gesture. “I come wit’ an entourage now.”

“So you do,” the giantess Queen of Winter answered, waving her over. Lidia obliged, sitting in the chair offered. A pipe was laid out, as was a steaming mug of spicy mulled wine, same as her first visit. Lidia took it, eyes still upon Baba Yaga, and turned the pipe to Tirrah — who quite gamely produced her little bit of flint, now knapped down to something easier for her to manage. Once, twice, and thrice she struck her stinger and she lit a little rushlight, and with it, Lidia’s pipe.

“Thank ye, Tirrah.” She said drawing in a lungful and blowing it out irritably. “Ye dinnae even wait til mornin’, th’ child ain’t even done being a mess twixt me nethers yet.”

“How vulgar,” Baba Yaga said, her tone icy. Lidia’s eyebrow shot up as Brohn hopped to the arm of her chair.

“I’m feelin’ a bit vulgar, ye see a right frosty witch jus’ roused me from me nuptial bed with th’ solid-gold stud of a husband I rightly bled an’ suffered fer,” she pointedly crossed her new, inhuman legs, hooves driving her point home as her eyes dilated dangerously. “Apologies, Greatermother. I am jus’ a wee bit cranky.” She added in a deadpan tone, and the Crone’s grin turned flinty.

“Your mother’s work,” She observed without question, her milky eyes as always stared too far, too deep. “She restored more to you than I expected, more than you even know. How curious.”

“Aye, she’s a cryptic wench like that, but I do know I ‘ave power now,” she leaned forward, pipe in her teeth. “She did more than jus’ fix me, she acknowledged me, right an’ proper.” She drew in a lungful of that smoke, “So what d’ye want? I’m nae helpless this time, an’ I dinnae ‘ave a firstborn yet fer ye tae take.”

“Do you not?” Baba Yaga inquired, her eyes glinting like agates. Hard and unyielding, but there was fire in them. She leaned forward and extended her hand, one finger crooked — at Brohn. “Born to die, and yet there it sits. It was never meant to have a shape, a life — yet born it was to your hands.” She turned her hand over and opened her massive palm, and bravely the little raven hopped into it. “That was my price. A life for a life, and it so happens that life was not spent.” Brohn looked up at her with a fierce sort of posture. He gave a low little warble and flapped his wings irritably. Baba Yaga’s lip curled. Lidia’s as well. Fangs glinted against fangs.

“Ye cannae ‘ave him, nae after he lived.” Lidia challenged her.

“I can if I so desire, so was our contract.” Baba Yaga answered, and her hand began to close about the little raven, who looked to Lidia suddenly fearful, hopping away with a hostile little caw — but Greatmother Winter’s fingers closed slightly, like the bars of a cage, nails gleaming with deadly promise. Brohn squawked in dismay.

“He only jus’ got tae live!” Lidia begged, eyes full of anger and fear, “Ye cannae kill him jus’ because mum beat ye at yer own game!”

The Crone’s face turned cold even for her, the ancient giantess subtly shifted her entire presence to Lidia, every aspect of her. Iota of her was staring at that defiant little redcap. Even the Maiden and Mother, faces obscured by fae happenstances, were turned in her direction.

“Morgana did not beat me, she did as she always does.” She glared down at the little raven, “She changed the game to suit her, the old whore she is.” Her talons closed again and she raised the hand. “No mere creature to be spent now, a being of Unseelie — born in the very heart of Seelie, a powerful, capable symbol there. Even I can only remark on the beginnings of the use of such a creature — and none of them are dead.” Brohn looked about wildly, chattering his beak in anxiety. Baba Yaga raised an eyebrow.

“He would live. He would serve. Your sticky mess twist your legs would be yours to keep.”

Just like that, Lidia felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. She came in all full of spite and power, and Baba Yaga called her to the test. She could… free, her little baby from this life. Iffin’ she was even pregnant, her hand lay over her womb for a moment. Baba Yaga pressed her anew.

“Changelings are strange things, even one strange as you. They do not suit the natural world, you are The Other, humans do not get children on your ilk well. Difficult conceptions, difficult births.” She turned her gaze back to Brohn with a calculating grin. “It could be months before you see even signs that this night’s seed quickened within you, or never at all.”

“Nae, nae dinnae say that,” Lidia said. Sidhe couldn’t lie… but she knew they could exaggerate, mislead, and misrepresent, but never lie. The Crone’s eyes were canny.

“Could be that I am wrong, and even now a new line of men burgeons in your womb.” She said and narrowed her gaze wickedly. “… But what if not? One little raven, and perhaps I even sort that for you?” She wheedled, and Lidia remembered again, the vial of golden ichor, the many other vials. The debts she collected. She was a dealmaker, a collector. Contracts and agreements. The devil of the details herself — and here she was, offering to sweeten the pot. Lidia’s teeth set.

It’d be easy, Brohn would live. So would her firstborn — one already growing in her womb maybe. That maybe could be made certain. Brohn would live in service, so his would-be-sibling could live free. The little raven cawed at her, fluffing up its plumage. If she asked it of him she was certain he’d go. She screwed up her face, baring her teeth at the old witch. Such was the ways of the Sidhe. Her mouth opened to protest, but she didn’t have a chance to agonize further.

The Least Knight of Seelie had enough.

A tinny little cry of rage rang out in the hut, and Tirrah flung herself from Lidia’s shoulder in a blur of sharp-edged limbs. She crossed the distance as if she had wings of her own, Baba Yaga reacted nearly as fast — but not fast enough. Tirrah bulled Brohn out of her palm, her stinger unsheathing in all its gleaming fury as she lit into the Queen of Winter with fangs, claws and barb alike. Lidia screamed and Brohn crowed from the floor in alarm.

Baba Yaga shrieked — not in pain, but outrage. Lidia lit up from her seat but was suddenly struck by naught but a gaze, Greatmother Winter’s eyes hitting her like an avalanche. The little changeling was forced bodily back into the chair with nothing but pure, focused will — crushing her like gravity. Baba Yaga snatched the little Fomori in her free hand with a hiss of displeasure, wrapping her in a steely fist and giving a squeeze that made her carapace creak and the tiny warrior cry out in pain. Tirrah had more fight yet in her, setting her teeth into the Crone’s fingers, her stinger working again and again, stabbing and leaving wounds weeping the glimmering amber. Baba Yaga’s black teeth gleamed in a grin.

“A potent venom, but I am born of such things.” She stated, and arrested Tirrah’s assault with a squeeze the crushed the breath from her, and a new high-pitched cry sounded. Brohn hurled himself at her ankles, pecking and slashing at her with his claws, hopping and making an unholy din. The Greatmother sneered down at him and held out the tiny Knight as she struggled. “You will have to do better than that little creature.”

Brohn cawed at her defiantly, and she grinned and crushed Tirrah a bit more, the tiny fae raising her voice in pain and rage. Brohn’s plumage fluffed up and he flicked his gaze around, hopping angrily back and forth as Lidia struggled against the sheer presence of the Queen of Winter. She had power now, but she was still standing against things far beyond her. Brohn however, did not seem to care. He hopped to a table and lunged again as Baba Yaga teased him, pressing the hard edge of her nail into Tirrah’s neck, drawing azure blood.

“That is all? Better that you died than live as such, lame useless.”

Lidia managed an outraged growl as she struggled to take in breath, Brohn looked around desperately, flapping and hopping and puffing his plumage aggressively. Baba Yaga curled her lip and simply made to drive that nail through Tirrah’s neck, turning her gaze from the little raven. “Just as well, I would never otherwise have borne such an insult as this little Summer stain on my home, why start now?”

Brohn gave a little strangled cry as Tirrah struggled, trying to wrest herself away from the killing edge cutting into her inexorably, the whole time still trying to bite, claw — fight. Lidia snarled and pushed against the force, focusing on Baba Yaga. She grit her teeth, she’d grown accustomed to hating faerie queens, and she’d make a personal campaign out of this.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white, a flutter of wings — and Baba Yaga gave a sudden cry of surprise. Brohn had in absolute despair, simply hurled himself into the air, wings beating the ground — no thoughts, no focus other than the little Fomori struggling in the grip of Greatmother Winter. He flew, straight, sure and true as an arrow — right into Baba Yaga’s face. He pecked, bit, and buffeted her with his wings and she again seemed more outraged than pained, but her grip loosened, and the little raven took the advantage. He leapt away, and dove down, grasping Tirrah in both talons, he beat his wings double time and wrenched her free of Baba Yaga’s grip, the bleeding formori pulling herself onto his back as he flapped around the cabin wildly before landing behind Lidia’s chair. Baba Yaga wheeled on the three, and Lidia stared her down even as she struggled. The scion of Summer and the Queen of Winter locked gazes. Winter grinned.

“Perhaps you are wiser than you look,” Baba Yaga said, snapping her fingers harshly and Lidia suddenly released from the intense pressure, she lunged forwards in fury and the Crone raised a finger imperiously, halting her. “I will weather only so many insults in deference to your ill-fit of your new station, but do not test me further, summerborn.” She stated sharply, and in that word was a declaration. Lines were drawn, boundaries put in place.

“Always wit’ the cryptic lessons, an’ backhanded aid.” Lidia groused as she gathered Tirrah and Brohn to her gently, the wounded little Fomori still bright-eyed and ferocious. Baba Yaga only grinned wider.

“Your kind doesn’t learn from lessons, only examples. Shame then, that all I carry as a tool is pain.”

“Ye dinnae say.”

That silence grew icier still, Lidia staring daggers at her, and Baba Yaga returning the glare with stolid amusement and a raised eyebrow. Lidia raised her chin right back.

“Nae, nae ye cannae ‘ave him. He’s mine, I took him from ye, an’ ye cannae ‘ave him back.” She said defiantly, and Brohn seemed to echo that with a sharp clatter of his beak.

“Just as well, I see now that even properly motivated you’ve ruined him with bonds of loyalty, pfeh!” She said and snorted indelicately, spitting a wad into a nearby chamberpot with force that rang it almost comically. “A thing you seem well capable of inspiring in unlikely places,” She added, turning a rather ugly glare on Tirrah, who snarled at her with a clatter of mouthparts. “A feature I look forward to testing in the child I come to claim.”

“So we’re square again, then?” Lidia asked, and Baba Yaga blew out a breath and despite her size and grandeur, really did look like a tired, irate old grandmother — sick to death of the pestering of young children.

“The original contract remains sound, but I did not mislead you. Your conception will be a difficult one, many changelings fall to despair at barren wombs and empty cradles.” She warned, milky eyes gleaming with that sight beyond seeing. “Then, they all give in. Succumb to their nature.”

“Iffin’ that’s all, there won’t be much o’ a problem.” She stated sternly, raising her chin. “My husband is a great, virile stallion o’ a man.” She said and leaned forwards with a wicked grin of her own, showing all her fangs, and a little bit of gum for good measure.

“We’ll get by jus’ fine on regularity.”

“How vulgar,” Baba Yaga stated dully and then sat back. “Fair play, however. Our dealings are done.” She said and clenched her teeth around her pipe. “Get out of my house.”

Lidia did just that, though she paused at the door. She hooked a view back at the old Crone, and she felt a truly mortal urge draw at her. She indulged it, as always.

“Fer what it’s worth, thank ye.” She stated after a moment, “Fer all o’ it, Gram’s still here, an’ I ‘ave this chance because o’ yer deal, an I thank ye fer that.” Baba Yaga looked up at her irritably.

“Are you still here?”

There was another push of force, Lidia and her entourage were bodily ejected in a bit of a tumble — and the door banged firmly, finally shut.

~ ~ ~

Black Midnight had been waiting, he conveyed her back in silence. They had nothing to say truly, and when the darkness fled she was once again, before Baudelaire keep. The sun broke just over the horizon, morning dawn coming early. Lidia gathered her coat about her tightly as she looked at the first dawn across her new home. The future spread ahead of her in its flagstones, its people, and one particular tower. Tirrah clambered free of her robe, and Brohn hopped about on her shoulder.

“Hey,” She said to the little raven and tiny knight, “Why don’t ye go wake Gram?” She told them, fluffing up her hair. “Tell ‘em I’m waitin’ fer him in the baths.”

Tirrah gave an assertive little chirp, saluting in the way of the Ivory Spears even, before hopping astride Brohn’s back. The little raven rubbed his beak to her affectionately, then with a wiggle of his tail — threw himself to the sky.

Up he soared, spiraling higher and higher, finding the early morning updraft from the valley and riding it. Tirrah’s joyous cries followed as he soared to the tower and its lone window, where her loverboy slumbered still.

The future loomed ahead, unwritten and wild. Best to start it with a bath.

THE END.