FSE

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Cuckolded by Her Mother

Chapter Thirteen

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Fyrdrgon

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"Sasha, I think it's time to face the music."

Fyr paced back and forth in the living room, forehead knotted and tail swinging anxiously behind her. Her mother slouched on the sofa and frowned, wings bundled against her back as if she was cold. But the weather was fine and sun slanted through the window, a Sunday morning that should have been, by all meanings of the word, relaxed.

But their conversation was far, far from relaxed. Fyr had deliberately waited until Ropes had gone out - the cougar had suddenly found a penchant for jogging, though she suspected that his eyes were on the other joggers rather than some manner of introspection - before broaching the subject. And it had hardly been an easy one to broach on such a glorious day. If it had been any other day with any other questions to ask, Fyr would have been in good spirits, perhaps bustling around the house to make her environment just a little bit fresher and cleaner ahead of her working week.

Sasha scowled like a teenager, arms stubbornly folded. In one sense, she'd never looked so young, but that youth radiating through her features as if from the fountain of all youth itself had the effect of turning her mind back to her younger years along with her body. It hadn't taken Fyr long to notice it, with how her mother had reverted to all the things she'd used to love, the metal bands and even the snazzy fast car she'd bought from her savings (Fyr preferred her truck any day of the week). The scowls and frowns and rolls of the eyes were something she could have done without, but they were there too as very clear evidence of what was going on. Fyr just could hardly believe it had taken her so long to work out the truth of the matter.

For that youth was a similar sort of youth to what Ropes boasted, being a demon and all. The problem was that he was no longer the only demon in the house.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Fyr. This is utterly ridiculous and you should know it."

She stood, spreading her ragged, torn wings as her eyes glowed green, just for a split second. The glow had not yet taken hold permanently, but she would have some explanations to make to friends and, no doubt, family when they became a permanent feature. That was, of course, if she didn't want to suffer the itching of wearing contacts just to go out of the house.

"In fact," she said, voice taking on a low, sultry tone. "Perhaps you need me to show you just where your place is all over again, Fyr. You have gotten rather big in your britches these days, haven't you?"

It wasn't a question that Fyr was intended to answer, but she drew herself up tall all the same, wings raised and shoulder blades back. The effect made her look larger and taller than usual and her mother hesitated for a split second. That split second was all Fyr needed to take back control of the situation. It was funny how easily it came to her in the crux of the moment, when she really, truly needed to put the world back to rights again.

Maybe she'd had the ability to be the dragoness she'd always wanted to be all along.

"No. No, I do not," she growled, paws clenched into fists as she stared her mother straight in the eye. "Sit the hell down. You know this needs to come out and it's coming out right now."

To her surprise, Sasha flounced back onto the sofa, tail curled sulkily around her ankles. Taking a deep breath that did little to steady her nerves, Fyr pressed on.

"That egg is having an effect on you."

Not the most eloquent sentence, she had to admit, but Sasha knew exactly what she meant. Even if she hadn't said anything out loud about her changes and condition, not seeming worried at all even after the appointment with the doctor, Fyr knew that she knew that something irreversible, if not terrible, was happening. And yet she refused to acknowledge it, say the words out loud that both of them knew would, eventually, have to come out.

Some truths were harder to take than others.

"Sasha."

The blue dragoness turned her muzzle away stubbornly.

"Mom?"

She glanced at her daughter, a minor concession.

"You're turning into a demon." Fyr clenched her teeth. "Or you're most of the way there already."

Sasha laughed hollowly.

"See, darling, I told you that Ropes and I were meant to be together."

It was a low blow and not even one that was supposed to be sexily dominant, but one that was intended to sting and bite and cut her down into nothing, nothing at all. Fyr shook her head, refusing to be swayed even as that little voice in the back of her mind piped up that maybe, just maybe, her mother was actually better suited for Ropes now than she was. But that was a thought that could be taken care of another day.

"You two make a wonderful couple." Oh, it sounded false even to her ears, but she had to try, she had to do her best. "This is more serious than who's suited to who. If you're turning into a demon, that would explain the changes in your body. And it can't just be because you're having sex with a demon of lust, because then I would have changed before Ropes and I even got married."

Sasha rolled her eyes and puffed a cloud of smoke.

"And why does this affect me? Why should I care about any of this?"

"Because it's you!"

Fyr exploded, voice rising into a blood-curdling scream that could have ripped through a fur with more efficiency than a razor blade. Balling up her paws into fists, she snarled and flapped her wings, tail lashing the air as if she was about to launch herself into battle - and against her own mother nonetheless!

"You should care about this, because it's the egg inside you that's causing your change! It's not hormones or anything that we can explain with conventional medicine, but something otherworldly! And you need to understand that!"

"What if I already understand it?" Sasha demanded, eyes flashing. "What if it just doesn't make any difference to me either way? I'm going to have this egg whether you like it or not! And I'm going to spend the rest of my days with Ropes too!"

Fyr snorted.

"Well, you may very well do that, mom, but, yes, you should care about your whole body and life changing. You think you can waltz back into your old job later looking like that? I'm sure you'll be having me look after the hatchling when we're out on the ranch and that'll be a lot more private for you there, but it won't solve the problem of you walking around actually looking like a demon!"

Her mother glared at her, the smoke thickening in a cloud around her head.

"Ropes does," she snapped. "Ropes gets around just fine and he has all those tentacles!"

Fyr sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingertips, though there was nothing that would get rid of the pounding, driving headache without a good, solid night of sleep. And the sofa just wasn't cutting it in that regard anymore.

"Furs here are used to Ropes now and he did a lot in the community to get people to accept him," she said slowly, sounding each word out as she released them from her lips in the hope that her mother would better understand. "He had to do a lot of work to get things to this point and he only did it because I asked him to. He would have been more than happy to just be a recluse if I'd let him."

"Maybe you should have let him," Sasha hissed. "He'd be a better cougar for it!"

"And a cougar that wouldn't be out enjoying a jog today either," Fyr countered. "He gets to do more things he enjoys and, though he hates that job, he makes good money and is moving up the ladder. He'll have good experience from that place and it'll take him forward in all he wants to do when he finally gets to turn his back on the office, though I hope that is sooner rather than later for his sake. Do you know where demons usually work in this world, mom?"

Sullen, Sasha was silent.

"They work where we don't see them. In the dark, in the sewers, all the dank, nasty jobs that no one wants to do. And then there's the seedier side, the one that no one, not even they, would want you to know about."

She took a deep breath, chest heaving. It did little to get much needed breath back into her lungs, but she ploughed on regardless, determined to get everything out once she'd begun.

"You think Ropes is the only one to be sent on his way for what he did? He found a better life here and many others have too, because it's not a world half of them want to live in once they've found another! And that comes with all the warts and shit that our mortal world has in it too! Is that the life you want for yourself? Your hatchling?"

Sasha hunched her shoulders, wings mantling over her back as she shrank back into herself. With a stomach that rounded and large, however, it was impossible for her to make herself much smaller than she actually was. Her uneven wings added to the effect, the tip edged with something like a claw that seemed like it would have been perfect for hooking into buildings or cliff-faces, a demonic touch that drew on instincts that were perhaps out of date in modern society.

"What? Nothing to say now?" Fyr laughed, although there was no humour in her tone. "Figures. Your body wants sex and that's all it wants right now. But you have to start looking at the big picture and do what you can to make this life work for you now."

"I don't have to listen to you!" Sasha snapped, cheeks hot and tail swinging. "You're just my daughter."

"I'm probably the only one who can help you now, besides Ropes, who is the second best fur to help you understand how your body is going to look and feel completely different."

Fyr sighed and lowered her wings. She hadn't even realised just how high she'd raised them, making them full as if she was cupping the air of the skies beneath them, soaring somewhere from which she never had to return from. She closed her eyes. Oh, if only that was true.

But their lives had changed for better or for worse and it was about time they faced the music.

Her mother, however, was not ready to face the music. Standing, Sasha growled threateningly, a thick, rolling growl that rumbled up from the pit of her belly with every drop of terror she could put into the sound present and accounted for. Clenching her jaw, Fyr held her ground and tilted her chin up defiantly.

Bring it on. Not like it's anything I haven't done before.

"Fyr, if you're going to throw around accusations like this," she snapped, head tossing haughtily, "I'll just head off out and see just how you think furs are going to treat me. I wager it'll be no _fucking_different to how they always treated me before. And why is that? Because I haven't changed! I haven't changed one bit!"

Fyr swallowed her sigh. It wasn't the time. But she'd expected the denial. Ropes had struggled to fit in too, though his arms had always been warm at the end of a hard day, tentacles winding softly around her to hold her close as he murmured sweet nothings to her and said he was sorry. And he always was. She could tell by his eyes. They were and always would be his biggest tell.

Sasha flounced across the living room, any intimidation she'd build up dissipating in the moment of her acting like a scorned, moody teenager. Fyr thought she was going to make it all the way to the door for a moment, but her mother wheeled around at the very last moment, jaws parted as if to show off her teeth. Her daughter suppressed her smile.

Oh, their attitudes are so similar. It's strange to see Ropes reflected in her, but it must just be how all demons are. A strange trait to have for those in the realm of the immortal.

"No, this is my home. I'm not leaving, I'm not going anywhere," she snarled. "You get out."

Fyr glared, meeting her head to head. Well, she could do that. She could do that very easily.

"Gladly! You need some time to cool the hell down."

Sasha snorted and jabbed her tail in the direction of the door.

"Just get out. I'll tell you when you can come back. If you can come back."

She didn't mean it. Even as she shrugged her coat over her shoulders - it was still a bit nippy out even with the weather improving - Fyr growled and shot her mother one, final parting look as she thundered out the door.

No, if her mother meant it, there would be smoke pouring from her nostrils and maw, eyes flashing even without the green glow that had become commonplace, obscuring her beautiful orbs. If she meant it, she'd be lunging for her daughter with her jaws agape, temper getting the better of her just as it had with Ropes in their earlier years together. Oh, he'd snarled and gone for her, but his true nature had always overcome the demonic one just in time, as terrifying as it had been before she'd gotten the measure of him. The fact that she wasn't acting like that and avoiding the situation entirely in sending Fyr away meant only the one thing.

Sasha was scared.

And that was perhaps more horrifying than anything else she could have been.

Where to go, where to go? Fyr blinked at her truck, exhaustion rolling over her in a wave. It took it out of her, fights like that, and would have taken it out of a stronger or weaker fur all the same. But there was one place she could always go to rest and recover and find a little bit of herself in peace and quiet once again.

The ranch.

She knew the route there like the back of her paw and drove there in the rattling, old truck on complete autopilot. A string of coppers on a chase could have flown by her and she wouldn't have noticed, so caught up was she in her own world, though it had long ago ceased to be a little one. Before she knew it, she was pulling up by the barn, thinking that she really needed to get a gate at the main entrance for that driveway had whipped by too quickly. She refused to acknowledge just how far down her hind paw had been on the gas pedal for the duration of the entire trip.

The barn was nearly finished, all ready for the animals she could fill it with, and she was sure she could find a grant to get her started. Agriculture was such a dominant part of the wide open plains that it wasn't really a spot that anyone thought to go to make it big - not after the gold rush of years on years gone by, at least. The country was so infatuated with big cities and the promise that those held that the majority seemed to have forgotten about any kind of world that was not made of concrete, sidewalks framing the runway for metal modes of transport while the furries who made it so teetered on tiny pathways.

Fyr sighed. Her dream was coming together, but the rest of her life seemed to be shattering even as she put it, piece by piece, into place. She could make the ranch work, whether she had help or not. That was why they'd restricted their spending so much, just so they could have that dream come to some sense of reality, sooner rather than later too.

And just how well did a second demon in their family factor into that dream?

She shook her head, finding her way into the barn without really thinking. The ranch house was going up at a good pace too. She'd have to get started on work there soon too, though she'd miss the background bustle of activity up there while she was getting the barn sorted. It made her feel just a little less alone while she was grinding away at all the repairs that needed to be done.

No, there'd be three demons in the family, if her suspicion was correct, when that egg finally was hatched. Did it count as a demon before Sasha laid it? She could not have said. It was hardly an area that she claimed to be an expert in, although she'd appeared to become the de facto one.

A few straw bales remained and Fyr scooted one over to the wall, dragging it easily as she slipped her calloused fingers beneath the twine. It wasn't the most ladylike look, but appearing feminine had fallen by the wayside as she worked to support her family and those that she had seen as her betters but now needed her to be the better one, the stronger one. Hell, she had to be the mortal one out of all of them, just to make sure that they had some kind of life left for them in a world that, understandably, struggling to understand demons and their very purpose in it.

She still remembered, vividly, how many had run screaming from Ropes while the demon retreated further and further into himself, a mere shadow of the cougar he had been before she got him to go out and be himself again. That had been a trial and a half, but they'd made it there, in the end.

She perched on the bale, but did not lean back against the wall, making her effort in dragging it there in the first place altogether futile. Fyr laughed hoarsely, licking her lips. It was strange how things like that worked out, much like other, even stranger things.

The dragoness blinked, traitorous moisture squeezing from the corners of her eyes as she huddled into herself. Damn it, she had said she wasn't going to cry! But everything was just so strange and she'd been so strong and held her head up high even through the strange and she couldn't believe that even more strange was coming her way. Grunting, she fought to swallow her tears, emotion bubbling up and up and up. Even the word 'strange' sounded...weird and there was no other she could put in her place, except to let that one ricochet off the inside of her skull and say that it was all strange, strange, strange, strange.

Horribly so. So, so very horribly so. Fyr gulped, choking on a sob. Would the strange ever end? Would she ever have a normal, simply nice life again, the one she'd envisioned since she was a hatchling herself? Would that dream ever be truly hers, or would it be forever modified by a demonic presence that dominated her every waking thought and slumbering dream

"Ma'am?"

Fyr lifted her head sharply from her paws, nostrils flaring. The stoat that had had a few nice conversations with her through the course of her doing up the ranch stood just outside the stall door, though their chats and smiles had been interrupted somewhat by her mother on her recent trips to the ranch. He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with a closed fist, and shuffled uncomfortably, shoulder brushing the door frame.

The dragoness groaned inwardly. She'd forgotten that she wasn't alone on the ranch.

"Hey?" She muttered. "So sorry to be like this. What can I do for you?"

Hesitantly, the stoat twisted his cap in his paws. It struck her all of a sudden how those paws were a lighter shade than the fur on the rest of his body.

"I hate to intrude, ma'am, but I think the real question here is what I can do for you. Are you quite alright there?"

Fyr's lips twisted and she straightened to stretch out her back, wings spreading so that she could lean all the way back into the wall and allow it to support her, just a little. It seemed to take some of the weight off her shoulders, a small sigh escaping her lips without her actively thinking about sighing or the thought to do so even crossing her mind. She supposed she was lucky that breathing was a subconscious activity, however, and smiled wryly at herself and her own folly.

"I'm sorry, you really shouldn't have seen me like this. I am fine, really, thank you."

And that should have been the end of it, even as a couple more horrible tears rolled down her cheeks, just an aftershock to the pain coursing through her midsection. It wasn't a pleasantry, him asking her if she was okay, and she'd lied through her teeth. As a worker on her ranch, at least temporarily, he should have taken it at that and turned on his heel. And yet, the stoat didn't. For some reason, he stayed right where he was and took a deep breath, narrow chest expanding and expanding until he looked like he couldn't hold any more air.

But he didn't release the breath. His cheeks puffed out, round and full with air, and his eyes bulged, seeming as if they were just about to pop clean out of his skull - in a cartoonish fashion rather than a gory one. His chest shook with the effort of holding the breath. Pulling her head back, Fyr gave him a strange look and laughed. The sound seemed foreign to her ears, but it was the kind of laugh that hadn't made it past her lips in a long time.

It was good to laugh like that again.

"What on earth are you doing?" She exclaimed, giggles rising rapidly as she stared at the stoat with his cheeks puffed out like a fish. "Are you trying to inflate yourself?"

No, of course, he wasn't trying to inflate himself, but that only made her laugh all the harder, tears rolling down her cheeks from joy instead of frustration. He let out his breath with a gasp, bending forward to put his paws on his knees, and bobbed his muzzle at Fyr, tail slapping the back of his thigh softly.

"It always made my sister stop crying, ma'am," the stoat said, smiling as his chest heaved for lost breath, restoring the regularity in his system. "I'm glad it worked for you too."

"You know, you can stop calling me 'ma'am', right? It's not really necessary."

The stoat smiled and stepped forward, eyes lighting up warmly, a flicker of gold deep inside. Her heart did that silly thing where it flipped over, seeming to both skip a beat and pound all the harder both at the same time.

"And what name should I be calling you by...ma'am?"

"Fyr. My name is Fyr."

He stuck out his paw.

"Scott. And so we now know each other, Miss Fyr."

She laughed without thinking, taking his paw and shaking it. He had a nice, firm grip that brought a stronger smile to her lips, the dragoness rubbing the back of her free paw across her eyes as she tried to compose herself to something akin to her usual demeanour.

"Just Fyr will be fine. Though I do respect your politeness." Her lips twitched. "It's refreshing. Not something I'm used to these days."

Tilting her head, she looked him up and down, dressed in the similar kind of work clothes that she'd seen on him many times over.

"What are you doing down here on a Sunday though? I thought I just had you guys hired Monday to Friday to finish up the last bits? Don't you have a family to go home to?"

Scott shook his head.

"My family's away at the moment, but that'll just be my father and mother. I'm looking after them for a time as my father's had surgery. This job is just to make ends meet in the meantime, just until he's back on his paws and doing what he loves again." The stoat smiled, though his face was already lit up with warmth. "He loves his job. He's a landscaper. Killing him, it is, to be away from it."

"So no wife for you then?"

"No, no wife. So, when they asked if I could get some of the finishing touches done up today, just on the exterior, I thought the extra cash would come in mighty useful like. Not like I've got anywhere else to be on this particular day where I can't be any other day."

She started, looking at him as if for the first time.

"You really go above and beyond the call of duty - and for a job that you admit is just a halfway step to where you really want to be."

The stoat blushed and scuffed the toe of his boot through the dust.

"Well, you could say so, ma'am, but I'm just doing my job for the cash. But any job I do, I do it well, so I hope you'll be pleased with the ranch house you end up with here, truly, I do."

Fyr smiled and scooted up on the bale of straw; it felt like the most natural thing in the world to do.

"If you are here on additional duties, the least I can do is ask you to sit with me and perhaps see if there are any biscuits left." She patted the straw bale invitingly, the flake rustling softly. "Scratchy, but I promise it doesn't bite."

Chuckling, he quickly seated himself beside her, stretching out with his legs flung out before him and one ankle crossed over the other, the very picture of comfort.

"Sometimes a little bite is fun too..."

She giggled and clapped her paw over her muzzle.

"Oh, you shouldn't talk to a lady like that!" She admonished him, although the twinkle in her eye told a different tale. "That's such terrible manners!"

They laughed and Fyr eyed him side-on, taking in his profile.

Scott... That's a nice name. A very nice name. And he's cute too. She winced at herself. Just when had she last called someone, anyone, cute? And he's kind. He rather reminds me of someone. Someone pretty special.

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"Are you down here on your own today, ma'am... I mean, Fyr?"

"Yes, just me." She nodded. "Quiet one this time, not really any work that needs to be done. I just needed to think."

He nodded sagely.

"I can sure see that. And is your mother spending time with her husband today?" He probed curiously, nothing but innocent in his eyes. "He is a cougar, right? That big cat?"

Fyr winced.

"Well, um..."

How much could she tell him? He had the kind of face that made her want to spill the beans, tell him everything, but everything would have been far, far too much. But he made her want to say something with how imploringly he looked at her, like every fibre of his being simply wanted to help her and, if not, enjoy the presence of her and simplicity of her company.

"I... Well, he's my husband," Fyr said awkwardly. "But he's quite close with my mom, you know?"

Oh, what a lame thing to say. She cringed just hearing the words come from her own lips, but there was little she could do. And yet Scott nodded as if he completely understood just what she was talking about, although that was impossible to anyone without knowing the intricacies and details of the situation at hand. Hell, Fyr was in the thick of it and even she wasn't sure she understood every last part of it!

"Oh, yes, I see now," he said politely. "It must be good to have a family like that."

"We share everything with one another. There's something different about our relationship that I can't really put to words, but it's nice to have her around."

It would have been nicer if her mother was not turning into a fully fledged demon, but the sentiment remained the same: she loved her mother dearly. Maybe even more than she had before the dragoness had been carrying her husband's egg.

"If your mother is pregnant though," Scott said slowly, rolling each word tediously around his mouth before forming it coherently. "Well, who is the father? Does she have another husband? I've only heard her talk to you about that cougar one, but it seemed like she really was his wife from how she talked about him."

Fyr shook her head, lips pursed. What could she say? Had she already said too much? Best to stay close to the truth, or at least as close to the truth as she could get with a stranger who was willing to listen.

"It's probably come off like that because Ropes, that's my husband, is, well, a little different to others." She hesitated. "You know that there are some very different furs in this world, don't you? There's not many of them around, but others tend not to like them very much."

Scott blinked at her, not understanding.

"No, I'm not sure what you mean."

"Demons. I mean, demons."

"Oh!" His expression cleared. "I know them. They look a bit weird, but I'm sure they're fine folks. You're right, we don't see them much, not many. Or maybe they just don't like being around us."

Fyr swallowed, a memory flashing across the forefront of her mind. Ropes walked down the street with her, arm in arm, after a night out and dinner. They hadn't done anything all that special, but it had been a night to remember for all the wrong reasons as Ropes trailed his tentacles over her shoulders and whispered in her ear. What he had been whispering, however, had been drowned out by the shouts and the group of young drakes who were out and spoiling for a fight.

"Beast!"

"Fucking freak!"

"Go back where you belong!"

"Stealing our dragonesses!"

"Furry trash!"

The last insult wasn't much of one - weren't all furries in their world suitable of being called such a name? - but Ropes had risen to the bait like a moth to the flame. He would have later said that he did what he did to protect her and that was surely part of it, she would not have denied it. But she never asked why he swung around with hellfire blazing at his heels - figuratively, of course - and threw all tentacles about, along with his fists, to scatter the miscreants like bowling pins.

Even if he hadn't been a demon, they wouldn't have stood a chance. Ropes was a devotee of street fighting, not claiming any particular style but enjoying the limberness and flexibility of his feline body and how it played into various martial arts. It had been something too, in the early days after he'd decided to make his home in the mortal world, that had sharpened his mind and kept his focus clear even when everything had grown more and more difficult with every passing day.

They'd gotten through that. Fyr hoped they could get through her mother turning into a demoness too, for the sake of both of them.

"Yes," she said at last, returning to reality as if surfacing from underwater. "They don't often like being around other furs. You're right. You're very right."

His paw curled around her shoulder, fingers digging in softly, comfortingly to the light round of muscle there.

"You know that from experience."

It wasn't a question.

Fyr sighed.

"So, yes, furries don't like demons. You can probably understand why, with all the myth and legends surrounding them. And my husband is one of those demons, hated by many and loved by some - only after they get to know him. Do you know how few try to get to know a demon?"

Scott's lips twisted in barely concealed sympathy. But the stoat seemed to wear his emotions on his sleeve, his face showing every flash of thought that crossed his mind.

"That must be very difficult for you. And for him, but it kinda comes with the territory of being a demon, doesn't it?"

Fyr nodded.

"He knew what he was getting into."

"Then why did he choose to stay?"

She shuffled, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It's...complicated. There's a lot going on there. And it was before he met me, so don't go thinking I'm the reason that he decided to shed the coils of the demon world, though I'm told that it can be a wonderful place to be."

The stoat put his paws back behind his head and wrinkled his nose. It was way more adorable than it should have been.

"I doubt that, but I cannot say, ma'am, as I've never been there myself."

"It's Fyr, please," she said, bumping him lightly with her shoulder. "And you're very kind to listen to me, Scott. You're a special sort that we don't get around all that much these days, listening to an old dragon ramble on about demons and her husband and her mother."

Scott chuckled softly and leaned into her, leaving his shoulder resting against hers. Fyr swallowed, but there was suddenly not enough moisture in her mouth for even that motion, heart thudding uncomfortably in her chest. Just what was the matter with her? She was acting like...

Oh no...

_ _

"Well, Scott," she said quickly, sitting up and putting some distance between them as she shuffled down the bale. "It's been real nice meeting you here, but I think I'd best be hurried on my way now and leave you to your work."

Good god, she was even copying his style of speaking, slipping back into a more familiar way all over again! Blushing hard, the dragoness stuttered and stammered, fighting for something, anything, that would get her out of a situation more akin to a schoolgirl with her first crush. She was long past those years! And the stoat knew she was married!

Yet how much of a marriage was it actually?

"Ma'am, I'm sorry if I intruded," he said, looking down, clearly crestfallen by her sudden desire to depart. "I only continued the conversation, because I thought that was what you wanted. I by no means wanted to step on any toes, ma'am... Fyr."

"Oh, no, Scott, you didn't step on any toes or make me feel uncomfortable. It was all me, really, I shouldn't have..."

But her words trailed off, the dragoness groaning and pressing a paw to her forehead.

"Can I just not get myself into situations for once in my life?"

Scott parted his lips to answer, but was cut off abruptly by the barn doors slamming open - both of them. They bounced off the walls behind them with an almighty crash that had Fyr and Scott near enough jumping out of their skin, hearts in their mouths and whipping around to see just who or what had caused the disturbance.

Fyr paled.

Oh no...

_ _

Not her. Not now. Not when she was with someone else - someone who had just been informed all about demons! And he hadn't even seen her as a demon yet, but he'd sure as hell seen her as a normal, blue-scaled dragoness!

Sasha stomped down the barn with all the anger of a younger dragon who had been scorned by the drake of her dreams, each step pounding down as if a barely disguised threat to break the concrete.

"Fyr!" She roared. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

She charged down the centre aisle, tattered wings flared, and stopped dead in her tracks as she rounded the corner at a pace. Coming face to face with her daughter and a startled stoat, she sucked in a breath that was half a shriek, wings snapping out sharply.

Scott let out a long, low whistle, taking in her ripped wings and flashing eyes, flickering between her normal irises and the glowing ones that spread across her whole eyeball, a demonic flare.

"Darn it, ma'am, you're looking a sight worse for wear there! Are you feeling okay?"

Oh, it was sweet how his first response was to ask if someone was okay, but that wasn't the sort of thing that Sasha would go for, not in a demonic state. The dragoness' eyes flared a brilliant green, shockingly emerald, and she hissed viciously, the sound weaving through the air like a threat that was yet to be spoken.

"Fyr," she growled. "There's something going on that you and I need to talk about."

"I know," she said, quietly and levelly. "That would be just why I left the house so you could cool down some, mom."

The word drew the older dragoness back, jaws opening and closing as her eyes flickered. Only Fyr knew her temper for what it was, the demon inside her wrestling for control. But it wouldn't be able to do anything with that control once it had it and the only way forward was for her to reconcile with her two selves, letting her mind grow at peace with what she now was.

For that to happen so quickly, however, would make it all a little too simple.

Sasha pressed her lips together, the anger in her eyes diminishing, just a little.

"Who is this?"

Fyr stood, holding her paws out as if that would be enough to placate her. The anger shouldn't take long to pass, as much as it came and went before a demon truly learned to control themselves. In some ways, the fury was more potent than their savage lust, although the lust was a side easier to control, at least when there were some of the general public around.

"Mom, you've met him before, but I don't know if you know his name," she said smoothly, keeping her voice as calm and impassive as she possibly could in the moment. "Scott. This is Scott. I came here to think after we, well, needed a bit of space from each other."

The stoat in question had, at some point, leapt up from the bale and backed away, though Fyr could not have blamed him. Hell, she thought herself rather idiotic for advancing on her seething mother, even if she knew in the back of her mind (or perhaps hoped) that there was no way on heaven or earth that her mother was actually going to hurt her. Just how bad were pregnancy hormones when they mixed with the changes a new demon had to be going through anyway?

Scott worked his mouth several times, ogling Sasha who rocked back on her heels, tail thrashing as if to whip an imaginary foe into rapid submission.

"Good gosh - she's a demon, she is!"

Sasha growled, turning on him with fire in his eyes.

"Don't call me that!"

"Ma'am, it's quite all right."

Scott stood, twisting his hat in his hands again, but it was hardly recognisable as a hat anymore, so squashed and bent was the fabric.

"Your daughter here and I, we've been having a talk about demons and the like, how folks been treating them. And, I gotta say, it's just not right what you folk go through."

He leaned forward a little, peering closely at Sasha as her eyes settled into a solid green glow with barely a flicker around the edges.

"It's a pretty colour that, what your eyes have gone. But you weren't always a demon, I know. I would have seen if your wings were like that. I got a careful eye on me, you know, and furs don't always realise I'm listening, but I am, I really am."

"Neither of us are trying to anger you, mom, but I'm going to need you to calm down," Fyr murmured, praising Scott and his ancestors to the will of any god that happened to be listening. "We were chatting, as he said. There's nothing bad happening and trust me when I say that you're going to feel a whole lot better when you calm down. Even a little will cool you off, I promise."

Sasha baulked.

"How did you know I was hot?"

Fyr smiled gently at her, holding out her paw: an offer of peace.

"Ropes always got hot when things flared up like this. But you'll get used to it."

She pushed her paw closer to her mother, wiggling her fingers as if that would encourage the dragoness who had raised her to take it. A daughter could only hope.

"It'll all come right, mom, trust me. But we can't turn back the clock and change what's happened."

Slowly, hesitantly, Sasha took her paw and Fyr pulled her in for a hug, the braver one of the two as her trembling mother rested her head on her shoulder. A tear dripped onto Fyr's back and she squeezed her mother closer, holding her tight against all the changes and the will of the world ebbing and flowing around her.

"It's gonna be alright, mom," she breathed. "I promise. We're going to make it all good again, you'll see."

Scott sniffed loudly, shuffling and scuffling as he reminded them of his presence overseeing their moment of rare intimacy.

"I dunno what the hay is going on here, but this is a mighty sweet mother-daughter moment!"

Fyr grinned. She might just keep Scott around a while with quips like that, the stoat blowing his nose on a rag he'd produced from his pocket.

But that wasn't the only reason she'd like to keep him around. Fyr blushed. There was something more to the stoat.

Something more that she'd rather like to discover.