How To Process Emotions When Faced With Your Worst Enemy

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Contains language. Sequel to Consider the Apocalypse as A Thing Unwanted and An Alternative Method For Gaining A Girlfriend

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Slowly I sat down before the board of three bearded old men and one enterprising young woman. Through a collection of eyeglasses, eyelashes and upraised drinking vessels they stared and watched me carefully, no words coming from their lips. Two were rigid in concern, one was relaxed with a smile playing on his face, and the last looked emotionally empty. With my face set to a state of simplicity and a determination to begin upon good terms with these people I kept my back straight and a readiness in my heart.

“Greetings,” I addressed the four of them who leant in various manners upon the table. “I would like to begin by stating that I understand the unusual arrangements for this position, and I am in no way wishing that you guarantee myself an occupation based on whom may have made these.”

There was silence in the room. I arched my eyebrow slightly as I curled my fingers around the folio case before me, that housed the abstracts of my finer essays and journal articles. Slowly my heart thudded, my introduction set. The other occupants - my interviewers and fellow creatures of keen study, all high elves, remained still.

Patiently, I waited.

One man eventually moved, hand rising to remove his small round glasses, revealing bright blue eyes.

“Mr De’Erebus,” he said slowly. I gave him my full focus. “I cannot lie when I say I do not of what you are referring to.” A small smile lifted his features. “And how it relieves me.”

“We would have given you a fair interview nevertheless,” spoke the one who had been smiling from the outset. Immediately I marked him as someone who potentially regarded Morningstar in a more positive light than I did, possibly even worked for him. In my new life here I would need to figure out who was placed here to spy on me, and who would be my ally.

In regards to the latter the one who had spoken first was my current first choice.

“There is potential for an occupation for yourself,” the first one spoke. “From what we have been told, your requirements are for a part time opportunity. Is that correct?”

Pausing for a moment I sighed internally, before nodding. It was not what I desired it to be, but it was what was required. “Yes. There are … family matters I must attend to at times. Often they are unavoidable and spare me very little time to prepare.”

The man who I had noted to be a 'fan’ of Morningstar raised himself straighter whilst the others remained as they were.

My main interviewer continued. “Those matters can be taken into consideration. One of our key politics lecturers is himself called to court at unavoidable times so I am sure we can make arrangements.” He took a moment to glance down at a piece of paper before him. “You have worked in the University of Akashima and … a short stay in Alerar?”

“Very short,” I nodded, remembering where I was, and that insulting drow was a good idea here. “The environment did not suit me.”

“Nor does it many of us,” the man smiled at me. He glanced to his colleagues, then back to me. “It is standard practise for all of our staff, whether research fellows or advanced students, to teach to some degree, no matter what the situation. Madam Hera here is our main lecturer within pre-history, but is open to specialist input. Would teaching be something you could do?”

“My last two occupations had primarily been of an teaching aspect,” I replied, “thus I can say I have experience in such, and would be more than willing to partake in such.”

The man nodded, and the female seemed to relax from her tense position. She now leant forwards, “what are your current areas of personal research?”

I answered without hesitation. The truth was that I was not a tiefling, as my appearance suggested, but rather a primordial. It was a term coined by us who had come right out of the void we called Khaos at the beginning of time and were created to serve the Old Gods. Some of us did not like the idea of being made to serve, like my brother Morningstar, who had recently had a point chant for controlling my life. The fact I had lived through history had made me an expert in it.

“Primarily the earlier worship of the Thayne Jomil, and more recently the differences between the facts and legends of the Great Calamity.” I sat up a little. “The first is a personal interest, the other is … based in a wider context.”

She was nodding, however when I first spoke. And she gestured to my folio. “Do you have your work in there?”

Lifting it up I held it out to her. “Extracts of the majority of my papers from when I began teaching twenty years ago.”

Madam Hera took it with some excitement as the original interviewer took back over, his round glasses now back on his face. “And what were you doing before those years?”

“I worked in transport,” I said, the old explanation that was both lie and truth coming from between my lips. In fact I had been an indentured servant to the King Of Death, who had forced me to be the Ferryman of the souls he ruled over for some long millennia, during which time I had lost much of my power. “Which though sounds disconnected from prehistory did involve a great amount of work with some of the oldest ships and boats.”

“A tiefling in shipping,” grunted the one who had not spoken yet. “It is not the worst we have employed.”

“Varsil,” Madam Hera hissed.

I made no reaction, only clasped my hands and watched as she began to flick through my folio.

Quickly the first interviewer, whose name, I realised, I still did not know, attempted to gain control of the interview. “Your race is not an issue, I can assure you, Mr De'Erebus.”

Simply I blinked and waited for the next question, which came quickly, from the same one who seemed to be racist.

“So how did you end up associated with a man such as-”

“Do you have any other areas of knowledge?” the one with the glasses interrupted him.

“Yes,” I replied, with a nod. “As some of my works that Madam Hera is looking through currently shows, I have skill in general history, early philosophy and sociology. Prehistory is my speciality, however.”

“And have you experience of being a tutor?” Hera said, looking up, her eyes bright. “As in for our more experienced students? Our scholars?”

Those young minds who decided, after their basic studies, to continue on with the potential to one day become lecturers or researchers in their own right.

“I have some,” I regarded her, “and would be more than willing to take some on.”

“With your need for irregular hours, it might work well,” she nodded, enthusiastic, “because I tell you, I am exhausted.” And she let out a light laugh.

I could not help but smile. It seemed that there actually might be need for me in this great rock of a city state. Already I imagined that I would indeed be favourable associates with this Madam Hera, who it looked I would work with, or under.

“With regards to what other work you are experienced in, would it be right in saying that you have ability in research itself. So that any major projects that the university might be undergoing, theoretical or otherwise …”

“I will be more than willing to lend my assistance. When family matters do draw me away in terms of location I do have time in order to continue reading, studying and so on. A mind kept active is a mind in power.”

“Exactly,” Hera smiled.

It seemed I already had her vote. For me, it was the highest praise anyone could give.

I saw the one in who had first championed Morningstar, and had still not spoken since, curl his lip as if he wanted to speak, but he did not. Instead he leant over and quietly spoke in the main interviewer's ear. The man paused, then nodded.

“Unless there are more questions, I believe that is enough for us to consider, Mr De'Erebus.” He stood, and suddenly the interview was over. Placing my hands on the desk I began to push myself up, my eyes glancing over to where Madam Hera was pouring over my work.

He coughed politely. “Hera. Mr De'Erebus is leaving.”

She glanced up at me. “May I finish?”

Pausing, I nodded, “of course. My current address is -”

“Oh I'll bring them to your office,” she smiled, and buried her head back into the papers.

Stunned silence fell like an avalanche. ‘My office.’ That statement presumed I had already been hired, and this was all a farce. In some ways it was - I knew Morningstar had pulled strings to get me this interview. A job had always been something of a certainty, but I had tried to make it clear from the outset that it was what I knew, not who I knew that would get me this occupation.

Quietly I moved away from the table, looking away from them all. I gave a small bowl, as I spoke. “I thank you all for this opportunity,” I said. “I am currently residing at the Lingar Hotel, in Alanawé.”

Then I rose and departed, leaving them all to their quiet world.

Barely had I collected my satchel and my coat from the cloakroom in the terraced building when there was a shout from behind me.

“Mr De'Erebus!”

Frowning and turning I blinked in the bright sunlight, aware of the gulls overhead. If one of them dared to poo on me I would gore it with my horn. Not that my horns were used as often as I was sure others were - for me it was far more of an aesthetic feature.

The first man to have spoken - the primary interviewer - was hurrying out towards me. Now he was standing I could see that he was tall. White hair showed his age alongside his beard, as did his wheezing. High elves were supposed to cease to age, but this one seemed akin to a wizened human. Excepting the wrinkles.

He came to me as I stood there in the light of day watching as he finished the last step towards me. Then he gave a dashing smile.

“Good. Hello.”

I inclined my head, happier. “Sir,” I replied, “I thank you for making the effort, but you do not need to-”

“We wish to hire you,” he interrupted me. And I stood there, stunned, as my lips parted.

“You …”

“Indeed,” he nodded fast as he caught his energy.

I pulled in a breath, my hand tightening on the strap of my satchel. “I … I do not know what to say. If you felt pressured by my brother in any way …”

“We all have our black sheep in the family,” he smiled, now straightening again. Pausing, he took a moment to settle himself. “You seem genuine and vastly unlike Lord Morningstar. You have gained a place here by your own merit.”

I looked away, my eyes moving to look at the terraces. They were a row of offices, curving alongside the street itself and edging down the hill. Grey stone and black slate tiling for the roof they were houses that did not scream learning, but had enough books at the windows, life within them and robed individuals heading in and out of the doors that one could assume. Behind them, standing bold against the sky, were the three towers that marked where the main university building was. When I had first come to Tor Elythis I had marvelled at the towers, but had come to appreciate the terraces more.

“I never introduced myself - I am Magister Parin Hamil, however, as we are to work together, please call me Parin.” He extended a hand.

Hesitantly, I took it, my heart thumping as suddenly the pieces of my life were falling into place once more. “Charles, please. Or Char.”

He bowed his head, and I reacted in kind as we became properly acquainted. After a while he removed his hand from mine. “Hera will be delighted to show you an office tomorrow. If you do accept, which I presume you do, then be here tomorrow morning at eight.”

I agreed. “I will endeavour to do so. There would only be one reason why I would.”

“And we will learn to cope with your unusual situation.”

They had given Morningstar the honorific of 'Lord’ which bestowed him with a resemblance of respect here. They had also named me as a tiefling, which inferred that they believed his was an aristocrat amongst demons. This placed him somewhere in the feudal system of the hells, which would explain to some degree his nature. I imagined he was to some of them as a king and a god, but to the rest he was a deadly noble who had a slightly nicer brother here. He was known here well, which was already a massive difference to my life at Akashima or Ettermire.

It placed me at an advantage to some degree, in that I was related to the aristocracy, but also at a disadvantage - from the moment that I would begin my career here, I would be subject to rumours. I also would not know who was a spy for my brother. Already I knew that many of them did not care for his ways of threats and lies, but amongst them were those who followed his every word. They could be those who served him, knew the truth about him and I in our identities. Some of them could even be out in the open - like the one who had been terse with me at the interview.

I did not know how my situation had been explained to them, but I knew that they knew I needed time away unexpectedly. Why I needed it was another matter, but I did not want to get into the conversation that every few weeks my brother might decide to kidnap me.

“I will try to ensure it is not much of an issue,” I apologised. “Hopefully I will be able to have enough time to get a message to Madam Hera … or would it be yourself?”

“Either, or,” he shrugged, in a very non-elf way.

Taking a small step back I bowed again. “Thank you Magister Parin. I will endeavour to bring pride to your great house of learning.”

“And this …”

She opened the door, revealing my small new office.

It was a tinier space than my own in Ettermire, and far more regular than that in Akashima, which had been with as many nooks and crannies as a person had limbs. This was an even square, with a single multi-paned window set into a wall and heavy curtains draping around it. A lonely desk was pushed up to one side, with a heavy chair slid in behind it. The wall opposite them was dominated by shelves, some of which already had occupants in the place of a dying plant and two old cob-webbed books. The whole space was large enough to house perhaps two more chairs comfortably and that was all. It was just slightly smaller than my delightful cell within Morningstar's home. Overall it was made of a cherry wood, with crimson and mulberry coloured upholstery. It was clean, and ready for my occupancy, as if they had expected me from a week ago.

Twisting to her I nodded, “thank you, Madam Hera.”

“Oh Hera please. It will be Char also, and the students will call you professor …”

“Rivers had been a name I have gone by in the past,” I advised, “De’Erebus is foreign to many. Charles is actually not even my original name.”

“Aside from Vasil you should not find too many racists here,” the elf sighed. “But it what name you desire to be known by that matters.”

“Either,” I said as I took a final step into the room and looked around it. My eyes moved from the chair, the window to the plant and I slowly placed down my bag. “If you do not mind my asking, Madam … Hera. You mentioned senior students. How many do you have?”

“Ah,” she nodded, and stepped in behind me. “Well. I am the only full time prehistory professor. All the others also teach history, or archeology. I currently am trying to run the course for the undergraduates, as well as support six full time senior students with their research and projects. It is with those that I can see you being invaluable.”

“Certainly, I will do what I can,” I nodded, setting my satchel down on the ground. “And teaching?”

“There are many students who say that they are struggling with the ideas of the events of the Great Calamity, and the worship of the Thayne thereafter. A lot of the focus from them is on the Raiaeran Pantheon so …”

I nodded, “naturally. They are their gods.”

“With your current research on the Thayne, it might be worthwhile setting up … a lecture a week, for instance, on that subject.”

Agreeing with her I smiled and cupped my hands before me. “The only issue will be if - if my brother-”

“If you prepare your lectures a week beforehand, and aim to have their notes to me by the time of the previous week, then that will cover any emergencies.”

I let out a soft sigh. “Thank you, Hera.”

She looped back a strand of her fine silver hair, and blinked at me with her golden eyes. “Your situation is exceedingly unique, Charles.”

Part of me wanted to ask, wanted to know what she thought went on during those days. But I could not ask, without causing suspicion. Simply, I smiled in gratitude, and clasped my hands before me.

“My brother and I have a great amount of differences, and in an ideal world-”

She shook her head, raising a hand, “say no more. Raiaera may seem idyllic to many, but it is still a country with its flaws. There are many still in this city who are not aware of who your brother is, and the power he wields, and so you may find yourself going through a whole day with no one connecting you to him. For your absences we will simply say you have other work, which is true in itself.”

It was … sort of. It suggested what she thought I did - worked for Morningstar part time by my own free will. Connected to the truth as it was it still made me grind my teeth in frustration, and need to force myself to hold a steady composure.

“I thank you, Hera,” I said, “for all your assistance. I hope to make a successful new start here.”

And I did.

After the first week I took on two of her senior students full time. Both were high elves; one named Quentalë Tur, the other Astalde Aria, the latter who was of an ancient line of famous bards. Quentalë was investing his time in understanding potential feminism within the first major, ancient civilisation that spanned much of northern Raiaera. Astalde was personally focused and was trying to understand the precise origins of bardic tradition, focusing on Khal’jaren, the sage god. These both I had curiosity over, wondering what they might discover in their research and had already encouraged Quentalë to travel north to a ruin recently uncovered.

I prepared and presented my first lecture to a wide-eyed, eager audience. There were more than a hundred students, some of whom stared at me in horror as I strode in. I could hear whispers of, “so it's true … they did hire a demon.” Subtly I smiled, the eyes of many high elves and the spare human watching me as I laid my satchel on the front desk and looked at them.

“My name is Professor Charles Rivers,” I introduced myself. “My expertise is in early Thayne worship and the aftermath of the Great Calamity. Madam Hera has asked me to speak to you once a week on these particular topics. What I plan to do during this lecture is introduce myself and set out a plan for the next few weeks.” I leant forwards onto the desk, surveying them as easily as I had done with every class beforehand. “I encourage questions, conversation and post-class discussion. I only ask that you follow one simple rule: respect.”

I paused, and they waited upon me with baited breath, the room perfectly still and silent as I held them hostage. A smile came to my lips, and my heart raced as I gazed about the new world I had come to, and the opportunities before me.

“To begin …”

The search for my home was somewhat more difficult. I began with living directly out of the hotel, and thus the need to find a home, now I had a job, was somewhat urgent. Without any knowledge of the city and any other direction I began by asking Hera where were good locations. She ended up taking me herself the next day to apartments that could be leased near to the university itself. As the university was near the centre of the city, this meant that there were numerous ones, and none too close to the edge of the island, where the sea was a constant threat.

A note, however, appeared in my office the day after. It was in a scratchy, spidery hand and informed me that I had a meeting arranged with a Sadoran Adar the next day, who had an apartment that would fit my requirements. The note told me a precise time and place. It took me a moment to take in the information and remember that my brother had requested I take an apartment in an area of the city he approved of. Sighing, I took up the letter and memorised the time and place.

I arrived at the appointment with time to spare. It was a tall, three storey building, tucked in amongst similar but smaller types, down a narrow alley. Around a ten minute walk from terrace building with my new office it was certainly convenient, but lacking the brightness that I had seen in other locations. Standing of the door I waited for some time, only the city gulls for company, before a shadowy figure appeared down the road. It took me only a short while to match scowl to elf, and figure out he was the same Morningstar fan from my interview.

Deeply, I sighed, before stepping out, not bothering to unfold my arms. “Sandoran Adar, I presume.”

He grunted as he came to me, dark hair framing his sharp features. Immediately he stretched out a hand and I saw a shine of light. Frowning I caught glimpse of a set of iron keys.

“The rent is three hundred gold per month,” he said with a sour tone. “It has been emptied already for your convenience.”

“I would prefer to see the property first, before I accept thank you,” I replied tersely.

“He said it was yours,” he frowned, “and would accept his decision.”

Stepping back I released my arms to gesture at the door, “if I could see the property first, Master Adar.”

The elf growled at me, lip curling with disgust. “You are not worth his attention.”

“Well he definitely disagrees with you on that,” I answered, and pointed again.

Rolling his eyes he walked forwards and let me in.

I ended up not quite accepting the apartment, but persuaded Sandoran Adar to show me another one he owned. This was close to the tall, grimy alleyway, and was brighter and bigger.

There were four rooms, inclusive of a kitchen, bedroom, front room and bathroom. It was not precisely ready to move in, with crates taking up most of the floor space, but I managed to say that I would pay four hundred per month, and could give him a few days to allow me to move in. The day after I conducted my first lecture I took my few belongings there, and settled in. From the kitchen with its cast iron stove and heavy wooden preparation table extended a balcony, and it here that I spent the first part of my first day.

I turned the front room into something of a library, gaining shelves from a local carpenter. Laying the floor with rugs I made it as comfortable as possible. The bedroom was not difficult as there was already a large wooden double bed, and it was a matter of buying blankets for it. A small chest held my few clothes and I arranged for a cleaner and laundry maid to come in once a week.

It was on the second full of living in my new home that I received a knock on the front door. Carrying my glass of wine through I opened it, stunned to see a black haired human standing there.

Dressed in an elaborate bodice and skirt Regina del Kant elegantly smiled at me. My eyebrows rose as I took her in, with her tall form and slim figure, lips pursing slightly. She was the closest thing I had to a girlfriend, and also was devoted to my brother as both one who honoured him akin to a god and working for free for him after he had appeared to her at the age of five.

“Regina,” I breathed.

“Hello, barbarian,” she leant forwards, and I did not move or resist as she placed a kiss on my lips. She used her apparent pet name for me, describing what many of Morningstar's thought of me as, because I had refused my brother's offer of fealty several times.

When she moved back, I was also smiling. I had a hand up against the door post and leant against it when she moved away, rather delighted.

I was there for a moment too long. “Are you going to let me in, then?” she asked.

Quickly I straightened, nodding and moving back. I noticed at this point that she held a basket in her hands, that one might expect to belong to a fruit picker. Carefully she carried it as she came in, eyes glancing around the room as I let the door shut behind her.

“So,” I twisted around, looking at her, my wind glass still in my hand. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Can not a girl see his man?” she asked, moving to the single armchair in my front room and setting the basket on it.

“Yes, but usually you are busy with … other duties,” I replied, having never seen her out of Morningstar's court.

“Hmm,” she nodded, and she sat down on the arm of the chair. “I am.”

There was hesitance in her voice. I raised a brow. “But …”

“Fine, I do have a purpose,” she replied, sighing. “But it does not have to be carried out for … three hours or so. I came early you see, with permission.”

Slowly I set my glass down, folding my arms across my chest. “What are you here for then, aside from sex?”

A deep frown appeared on her face. Eyes narrowing she glared at me. “Fine. I will not be subtle. I am here as a delivery girl.”

“Of … what?” I asked, looking at the basket, “is there food in there?”

“Oh I am not delivering anything to you,” she folded her arms, her tone short and sharp. “Rather I am …”

And a sparkle blossomed into her eye. My brow rose slowly as I began to understand her meaning. Breath caught in my chest as my heart thumped and all I could think about was Morningstar and his audacity to do such a thing. To not come here himself - to send Regina.

“Fuck me …” I whispered. “The bastard strikes again.”

“We'll go now then,” she snapped, beginning to rise and her hand pulling back the fabric that covered the top of the blanket.

Instantly I reacted. “No, wait,” I said quickly, my body jerking forwards to stretch out a hand towards her. Into my hand a small black coil of energy popped, about the size of marble and entirely ready to defend me. It was my main form of magic, as destructive darkness energy that could drain feeling and matter.

She glanced up to me, her eyes wide. Carefully I closed the fingers around my palm, snuffing the darkness out. Jaw tightening, I lowered the hand and watched as she deeply frowned.

“It calls itself to existence,” I explained , rapidly, “but only my will can shape and manipulate it.”

“I know you would not have harmed me,” she replied, dryly, “but it just goes to prove how much of a barbarian you are.”

“Wonderful,” I said, not sure which her statements I was referring to. Maybe both. “Now, you said three hours?”

Slowly, she nodded, “yes …”

“Right, how long this time?” I asked her, as I strode to a shelf where paper and pen was ready for my daily thoughts and musings.

Regina took her hands away from the basket and folded them across her chest. She was still in a mood with me, but at least seemed to have been persuaded to not take me now.

“I do not know. At least today, perhaps more.”

Two or three then. I nodded quickly, grabbing a piece of paper and beginning to scribe a note addressed to Hera. I wrote that I was bidden away on ‘family business’ (I used the inverted commas) and that I expected to be gone only a few days. I added that notes on Quentalë's recent chapter draft could be found in a drawer in my office desk. Reading over the page once I found it to be satisfactory and I folded the page into a letter format, before looking at Regina.

“I need to deliver this message.”

Pursing her lips she nodded. “How long will you be?”

“The university is only a five minute walk,” I explained. “You can come with me if you are that concerned.”

Shaking her head she replied. “No. I am fine.”

And I paused before I sighed and walked over to her. I had upset her, plenty, both by inferring that all she wanted from me was sex, and insulting her employer and man she respected as god. Despite the fact I had thought the first, and did not agree with the second, the guilt still savagely burned within me. When I got to her she was gazing at me with large, gorgeous eyes, and her lips were a thin line.

“I am sorry,” I said quietly. “And I promise to come with you, without a fuss.”

She blinked, and a softness came into her eyes; even though she did not speak I knew she forgave me. Leaning towards her I kissed her head.

“Barbarian,” she murmured.

“Indeed,” I agreed.

And I left.

When I returned I discovered she had found my bedroom. On the bed she had draped herself, and she was extremely naked. My jaw dropped, eyes widened at the apparent complete forgiveness I was being given.

“You …”

“Just come,” she lifted up a hand from her olive tinted perfect form. Holding it out to me as an invitation she welcomed me home. “And we'll forget our differences for now?”

A smile flickered across my lips. Though the dynamic in this relationship was not ideal, I was delighted at this form of surprise so early on. My heart rose to a tempo of excitement, and I began to work on my shirt as I moved over.

“I am willing,” I said warmly.

And we had two hours of sweet, gentle romance.

Afterwards, I sat on the edge of my bed, looking at my discarded clothes. Regina leant against my back, belly first. Her fingers tangled slowly into my hair and ran the length of my horns. Extending as they did from my temples and arching back it took her some time to trail her hands the full length of them, however the longer the better. I felt strangely elated at the sensation, calming after the storm we had created in my now messy bed.

“Do you know why you look like a tiefling?” she asked, after a moment of silence.

I frowned. “I would say tieflings look like us. We were there first.”

“And all of your kind … primordials, they have horns?”

I nodded in response, though was careful not to lower my chin too deep so as to upset her trailing touch. “Some even have tails. But I cannot tell you why. It is what it is.”

Gently she leant to kiss my bare shoulder. “I do not mind what features you may have. You are handsome at least.”

“And you are very beautiful,” I murmured in reply. It was satisfyingly different to have this conversation. Most of ours was playful banter about how each other was wrong, and now here we were discussing how attractive we found the other.

“Thank you,” she rested her chin on my shoulder. Tilting my head down I regarded her as she grinned at me.

“Hello barbarian.”

“You probably could come up with some other insults,” I mused.

“Mmmm. Idiot. Primitive. Uncivilised. Erroneous. Fool. Heretic.”

I laughed and raised a hand to curl my own fingers into her hair. “Thank you for being so honest.”

“Well you are something of a heretic,” she kissed my neck again. “Maintaining an incorrect doctrine outside the established hierarchy.”

“Or just belief in myself, my own skills and a desire to never run the risk of being called someone's property again …” I replied.

She paused, and looked up at me. Slightly, I smiled. There was a pause between us, where our eyes remained in constant watch. Slowly she blinked, mouth lacking in a smile but still joy in her eyes.

Leaning over my shoulder she gave me a quick last kiss on the lips before she slipped off the bed. “On that, we should probably start heading.”

My heart fell. I had hoped to distract her to some extent, and have her not thinking about our expected journey to Morningstar's court. But she was what she was - a loyal servant, worthy of praise for that dedication. As I watched she strode towards her underclothes and began to pull them on.

“Do you know if I have clothing there now?” I asked.

She nodded a little. “After you spent a few days with us last time, those clothes you left are now waiting for you, available. I believe he actually calls the room yours.”

“Of course he does.” I stretched as I prepared to get up. Looking around I spotted a book on the small cabinet that I had been reading recently. Getting up I took a small step to gather it up, then began to look for my clothes.

“Things would be a lot easier if you did swear fealty to him,” she sighed.

I shrugged on my trousers over my undergarments. “Unfortunately that is never going to happen, so you will need to deal with the pains of a long distance relationship,” was my response.

“Are you bringing that?” she appeared before me and gestured to the book.

Now she was in her dress once more, her black locks cascading wonderfully. In her hands also was the picnic basket, with a blanket hiding it's contents. Nodding, I held out the book and she took it from me.

“Remember your boots,” she lightly said.

“Mmm,” I grunted, amused that she thought I could forget them.

As I found them, beneath my shirt, I found another book. This Regina took from me, slipping it beneath her blanket, as I tugged on a clean shirt. Boots laced and buttons secure I spent a moment musing with the cuffs before she appeared at my elbow.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“As I'll ever be,” I picked at a stray thread.

I saw her nodding, and then gently she took my hand. A smile began to come over my face as she slipped her fingers in with mine, and she pulled my hand back towards her face. I began to turn, smiling and watching her, when the unexpected happened.

Suddenly her other hand moved and a golden tinted metallic cuff was suddenly being fixed around my wrist.

I let out a groan. Trust her to distract me. Regina simply laughed as she pulled my hand around my back, sharper this time, then reached out to grab my other hand. I barely resisted, knowing what she wanted, and what the consequences were of fighting this. Some of my power blossomed in readiness, eager to be free, but I willed it back down. Less delicate now she pulled both my arms around, and shoved my second hand into the second manacle, closing it shut with a light click, so that my two hands where now firmly bound behind my back. Slightly, I bent over from where they were cuffed at the small of my back, and she appeared at my front, ecstatically beaming.

“There,” she said, satisfied. “All ready.”

“Bound and ready for transportation,” I rolled my eyes. I tested the manacles, easing my wrists apart, and found a light bell sound filling my ears - the sound Morningstar's chains apparently made.

Quite delighted with her distraction she nodded, and looped an arm with mine, her other holding onto the basket. “Come along prisoner, I need to deliver you.”

And she raised a palm. Within was a pulsating white stone. Tightly, she held onto me as the world spun around us, and I was pulled from my new life for a brief encounter with my brother.

We landed in a brief and dull glimmer of light, our shoes impacting onto soft earth. It took me only a few seconds for my eyes to adjust.
We were in a field of grass, with a clear blue sky above. In this way green and azure stretched for seemingly endless miles, broken only by yellow wheat to the east, and a large white building behind us. As I looked at the building, with its peaked roof, simple structure and marble façade, I felt partly relieved. This was practically my second home now, and though every time I was here more pains came, at least it was where I was familiar, and wanted.

Linking her elbow through the loop of my arms, Regina began to walk. Bound as I was it was awkward, but there was little point in resisting now as he began towards the temple-like structure.

As we gained closer I could see the huge, wooden double doors that made up the entrance. I could also tell the shape of the west was slightly more than the east, with a pronounced edge. Within this extra space I knew that offices, the kitchens and rooms for the staff thrived, as well as a staircase resided that led to the cells - and 'my’ room. Nearing the door I could hear a multitude of noises coming from within, as well as I could see rapid movement, of a lot more people than was usually in the main hall of his court. Frowning a little I turned my head to Regina when a man stepped out from the door.

He seemed to be a farmer. Dressed in fine clothes he bore a pitchfork and was chewing on hay. Presumably he worked alongside the wheat fields. When he spotted Regina and I he nodded, and waited for us to come closer.

“I see you managed to pick up your package, then,” he joked.

“Apparently so,” I replied, and the farmer looked at me in surprise.

Regina laughed, and tightened her grip around my arm, pulling me closer with a light chiming noise. As if I was going to run now. Her hand settled gently over my forearm where she could attain it, and she began to partly pull me inside, speeding up our pace, and leaving the farmer in the dust.

I said nothing, but found her 'encouragement’ to be wildly unnecessary. I reacted with a short hiss, muttering quickly to her as we passed into the shadow of the temple.

“I'm not going to run, Regina.” Though it was the first time I had ever been bound with my hands behind my back under Morningstar.

“I know,” she nodded, yet still she kept her hold, as the noise beyond the doors truly came to ear.

It was fairly loud, with a myriad of different voices. As I looked in I could see the court had entirely changed. The structure was still there - the hundred foot long audience chamber, with its twin marble pillar rows to either side and the mighty dais at the back, where his oak throne wrapped in gold decoration sat. Aside from that much had been draped upon, or had life around. Whereas I was used to an empty hall, here life lurked now in every corner.

Crimson and rich, royal green material hung in banners and swathes around the pillars, dressing the place in colour instead of white. It also adorned the shadow walls beyond the pillar barrier, careful of the lanterns that burned in nooks. Over the top of this fabric miles of ivy had been dressed, filling the room with an earthy smell, and curling in random forms over the uneven surfaces. Three groups of five people were working with exceptionally tall ladders to currently rearrange some of the ivy. An overseer rushed from one group to the next.

The floor itself had been spread with bracken and dried flowers, in scatterings that added to the natural scent of the place. It had been pushed into various piles at the pillars as people walked, but still a collection of three people strode around, evenly distributing it. Behind them an inspector walked, nodding slowly.

Currently they were heading towards the back of the room, and that brought my eyes to the throne. Elaborately, it had been lovingly dressed in the same emerald fabric, that twisted out from it in rivers. On top of this golden painted ivy hung, as well as branches of juniper berries. Behind the throne itself a massive banner had been placed, that showed a large, golden and emerald snake coiling around green ivy on a black field. It took me a moment to understand, but eventually I found myself nodding as Morningstar became the snake itself.

Beyond that, people were what took up the rest of the room. Currently a group were pushing a pair of plain, large thrones into a place that was a fair thirty feet from the throne. Other groups were in discussion, whispering as they tugged on jewelry and adjusted their fine clothing. I was thankful that I had kept on my working trousers and placed on a clean shirt. There were some though with a clear lack of clothing, and these were four young women who had little but a bustier and a light skirt of material to cover them, who laughed between themselves at the foot of the dais.

“B-brother?”

I heard a gasp, and turned to see a tall, handsome female hurrying towards me, her black hair coiled up in a bun at her head. It narrowly avoided her dark horns rising from her crown. Green eyes blinked at me, matching the green silk dress she wore. Instantly I recognised her and spoke in awe.

“... Nyx?” I noted she was entirely unbound.

Regina stepped back as Nyx, one of my sisters and personification of the night, came to me. Eagerly the woman who I had not see for perhaps three thousand years suddenly drew me into a hug. It was awkward and unexpected but I was appreciative of it.

I observed her, eyes moving up and down her form. Slowly I realised that because she was here and unbound she had to have given her fealty at one point to Morningstar.

“When …”

“Oh about five hundred years ago now,” she waved a hand. “There's also Geras,” who was our brother who had powers over aging, “Hemera,” who was Nyx’s twin and was associated with the day, “and Moros sometimes appears. Though he is currently on holiday.” From what I knew of one of my youngest brothers he was a doomsayer - that being he could bring about doom. He had powers of prediction that were legendary.

Slowly I nodded, now with a list of names for the four of my siblings who had fallen under Morningstar's persuasion. And I was his … pet project. “I see,” then I smiled. “It is good to see you. This is …” I glanced to my side.

“Oh I know Regina,” Nyx said with a beam. “Hopefully she can help to bring you around.”

“I see,” I looked to Regina who was still holding her basket and looking very pleased with herself. “And what is going on here exactly?”

“I have visitors,” came a grunt from my other side. Looking over I finally saw the lord of the court striding over to me.

Impressively tall Morningstar was a well-built man with large horns jaggedly arching away from his face. His features were rugged and handsome, with chocolate hair draped in curls around it and his skin pale but flecked with crimson. A small, simply golden circlet was set on his brow. Today he was dressed in fine crimson robes, that were trimmed with golden thread, with thigh high boots.

He looked me up and down slowly, before he shook his head and gestured at me with a wagging finger. “You will need to change.”

“Forgive me,” I replied sarcastically, “nobody informed me that there was going to the Emperor of Akashima's ball.”

“There is little time for you to go back,” he muttered, ignoring my comment. Pursing his lips he turned and called out a name I did not recognise. A young man, in sharp dress that had the same snake and ivy embroidered into the shoulders hurried over. He went into a deep bow before rising.

“Find Char here some decent clothing,” he said.

And he waved a hand. There was a light chiming and suddenly my hands were no longer bound behind my back. I let out a light sigh, though when I brought them to my front I could see the manacles themselves that restrained my power were very much there.

He breathed in sharply, observing me, and then coughed for attention. I looked up into his eyes.

“When you are done, come to meet me up there,” he gestured at the back of the room.

“What visitors?” I asked in a low voice. “Who are you expecting?”

“You will see in due course,” he snapped, and on his heel he turned. Smartly he stalked away, eyes narrowed and tension in any step. Clearly he wanted to make the largest impression possible, and all of us were part of that.

“Ah … sir?”

I looked over at the man whom Morningstar had called over and blinked. He was gesturing towards the side of the hall. Nodding once I twisted to Nyx and managed to embrace her. Then I smiled briefly at Regina who brightly replied.

“I'll see you later.”

Now in some more thematically appropriate clothing for a soirée, I was shown the way across the hall by the attendant - not as if I couldn't find it myself. I was now wearing clothes that I would have courted some hundreds of years prior, with breeches, a cotton shirt and over that a loose robe of elegant description that had little decoration but a neat cut. When I gained back into the audience chamber of Morningstar's court I saw that many of the attendants had now move aside and the bracken and dried flowers were nearly scattered without any upset. There were no more ladders, no more groups of discussion but rather a gathering was now near the throne. I spied Nyx, alongside Hemera and Geras as she had mentioned - the former with golden hair and short of stature, and the latter a greying man with a permanent frown. Upon seeing me Hemera beamed, whereas Geras just scowled.

As I stepped into full sight, Morningstar twisted around, breaking from the crowd. He gestured at me once, and I sucked in a breath as I resisted rolling my eyes. A moment of quiet descended as many of the people there, which included the scantily clad six I had seen before, watched me approach, my hands buried into pockets.

“Silence is all I asked of you,” he looked at me right in the eyes, as he pulled himself.to a halt before me. “Your appearance here, but remain silent.”

My brows rose as I asked again. “Morningstar, who is coming that causes you this amount of tension?”

“You'll see soon enough. Now, can you manage being quiet?” he snarled.

I observed him for a moment, knowing that if there was something I needed to say, depending on the situation, I would say it. If it came to preserving my life most definitely. But else - this was not my audience. As my eyes flickered around I realised that most of what this was, was a show. A demonstration of power, with his most useful tools displayed.

Sighing softly, I nodded once. A short-lived satisfied smile came to his face before he stepped back and pointed to a place to the direct right of his throne.

“Stay there, don't be a fool.”

“But I am so wonderful at it,” I grinned, but I began to walk.

When I passed Hemera she gave my arm a small squeeze. As I passed by the main crowd and started up the steps, Morningstar grandly motioned. Twisting around as I came to the right side of his throne I watched as the various groups split and settled into places that had apparently been prearranged. Hemera, Nyx and Geras came to settle in front of me, the six ill-dressed women draped themselves onto fine cushions to the left. Another set of courtiers arranged themselves behind the girls, and a last group of mortal aristocrats and royalty whom had pledged themselves to Morningstar lastly took place on stools in key locations. And in the centre, holding himself with purpose and pride, sat Morningstar in his throne, eyes focused forwards.

Folding my arms I leant back against the wall and allowed myself to prepare to be either entertained or bored as silence fell across us. I noticed one of the scantily clad women lean back against Morningstar's leg and he draped a hand over her shoulder. There was a long moment of silence as we seemed to all be waiting for nothing. Morningstar glanced at me slightly, and I raised an eyebrow back at him, and he frowned.

“A little more decorum, please,” he murmured.

I paused and looked around me, seeing the others standing in perfect straightness, hands clasped before them or held at their sides. Neat, orderly, elegant. This was not a place I wanted to be and it was not constructive to any of my research. But this was his home, and his pageant that, for whatever reason, I was part of. Huffing I leant away from the wall and stood taller, though pushed my hands into my pockets. He narrowed his eyes at me a moment, and opened his mouth - when a loud drum sounded.

His visitor had arrived.

Loud and raucous they came, each beat of the drum like a mighty presentation that struck over our small but mighty party with power. We could hear them thunder over the fields outside - that beautiful grassy eternity that never seemed to have a dull sky. My hands tightened into fists, and I narrowed my eyes as a shadow began to fill the doorway to Morningstar's audience chamber. I suddenly found myself not wanting to be there, not wanting to be part of this. My eyes glanced over to the easy escape - the door that led to the library, and beyond that the stairs which descended into the dungeon and the small cell that was likely waiting for me. But it had books and a familiarity at least.

“Everyone hold,” Morningstar commanded in a quiet voice, as the drums got louder and the shadow in the doorway loomed larger.

He addressed not only me, I realised, but the others in our party. Looking around I could see several people tense, some of the mortal aristocrats hesitate, and even one beginning to rise out of his chair, but Morningstar was having none.

“Settle,” he hissed.

I drew in an unsteady breath and forced my sight back to the door. Figures began to form - two were at the front, though still remained in uncertain identity. There were two drummers, the source of the noise, striding to either side of the group. A grand retinue including courtiers in colours of black and purple, bannermen holding standards and what looked like bearers of food and was that a barrel of wine being pulled along.

My brow furrowed slightly as I tried to assess who it was. Still, the faces were not clear, so I concentrated on the banners to see if any familiar designs could be noticed. I was not hugely well versed in the heraldry of alternative demi deities and supernatural royals, but I hoped I could remember some facts. Black and rich plum purple seemed to be the dominant colours, alongside silver and white. Not only were the courtiers dressed in this, but also the banners seemed to be of it, also the drums and …

My blood began to run cold as I first noticed the purple skull, set onto the black background. Stylised, it could have been mistaken from afar for many things, and was not the clearest, but now that the party was halfway across the floor, it was more than than obvious. White thread picked out the edges of it, and when one began to look they saw it everywhere, from the tabards of the barrel bearers to the drums themselves. It was a proud skull, with horns curling from its temples, that were exactly the same shape and size of the man who strode at the head of the party.

I found myself growling under my breath, and let out a quiet curse. “Fuck you, Morningstar,” I muttered, so that only he could hear.

It was for no small reason that he wanted me here. My past was far more tied with the current man and his wife that were coming to meet Morningstar than anyone else. My heart thumped, I dug my nails into my palms and cursed those things around my wrists that currently stopped me from blasting the black-robed figure directly from the earth.

For it was the self-styled King of Death himself, a minor god of death, also known as Morté, lord of the underworld Rahl. I had served for over five millennia as his ferryman, and only just been freed. Now here he was back in front of me, and I wanted nothing more than to see him gone.

Low, I hissed, my eyes not daring to look to the left of Morté, where my once lover, Sephora, still loyally strode.

“You're with me now,” Morningstar whispered to me, his eyes intent and forwards, “not him. Remember that, Charon.”

“I'm not with-”

“And you said you would be silent,” he replied, hissing. “Be so for the remainder.”

It was a command, nothing more. He held no 'or’ or 'unless’ in the air, even though there was one. There would be consequences. What he wanted was to display his power here, and me being here would directly reflect that what he had when compared to Morté. I had to ask myself who I respected more, and I knew right away that it was Morningstar. He was a villain, but not as much as the wretch who strode towards us, and with him I still had freedoms.

I tightened my jaw and squared myself, going still and quiet. I saw Nyx throw me a glance, with an upraised eyebrow, but I ignored it and instead looked incredibly bitterly at the man who had broken so many promises. Just why Sephora was still with him, I would never know.

Slowly Morté smiled, his dark personality reflected in his darker hair and eyes. He let his gaze sweep over the entire Morningstar party, as he continued to stride forwards, slipping around behind the two plain wooden thrones that had been set there for him and Sephora. When he saw me his head tilted slightly, and he focused in on me, breath slow.

Then he grinned and spoke as he sat down into the chair, relaxing into it easily. “I see you have something that belongs to me.” His eyes moved from me to Morningstar.

I gritted my teeth together, biting back a string of curses.

Morningstar blinked slowly, not even flinching. “I believe you have the tense wrong, Morté. The word is 'belonged’, not 'belongs’. You gave him up, he is very much mine now.”

You better only mean that in context, I growled internally, as I bit back my words.

Morté raised a hand and his party began to settle around him. His wife came forwards and settled into her own chair, though her lips were drawn and would do as little talking as mine would, I was sure.

“I could very easily take him back.”

“Unless you want to start a war, I would deeply discourage that,” Morningstar replied tersely. “What is a man's stays his, until you or I, or he gives it freedom. That is a law that none of us can deny.” He tapped a finger on the edge of his throne, “but that is not why you are really here, Morté. You did not come all this way to reclaim back a ferryman, did you?”

For those who did not get the context thus far, they now most certainly did. Various eyes flickered to me, and tried to ignore them, instead keeping my burning hatred directly on Morté. Here I had been, hoping to never see the man again, and now he had rudely forced his way back into my life. Nyx shot me a concerned look, seeing me focusing on Morté for all my life was worth, but there was nothing she could do. There was nothing any of them could do. This whole situation … it was far too late now.

I didn't care anymore. I twisted away my head and lifted my arms to fold them across my chest. I stayed where I was and silent, but fuck his decorum. Staring at a place beyond the two thrones opposite our strange group I focused on the grass beyond.

“No,” the King of Death smiled, and leaned back as his retinue settled. The drummers set their instruments down noiselessly, and two underdressed individuals splayed themselves before his throne. Sephora curled her hands on her lap as she remained straight-backed, staring at nothing in particular. “I did not come to talk about him. Instead this is a greeting between powers.”

“It is?” Morningstar nodded a small amount as he heavily leant to one side, away from me, hand dropping to begin playing in the hair of a surprisingly pleased wench. “Well then. Welcome from my court and greetings.”

“I thank you. Greetings from Rahl,” Morté replied in a silky, smooth voice. “Now, I wondered if you had heard the rumours?”

My attention was grabbed at that. I did not move, however, and kept my focus forwards, on a small bird that fluttered over the grass. It was a wren perhaps, or a robin.

“What rumours?” Morningstar said slowly. There could be many out there. One at the moment was certainly the world ending.

“About one of your brothers,” Morté replied.

Those words had me snapping back to the room. My face spun, gaze first flickering to Nyx and my siblings beyond her, and then all four of us stared wide-eyed at Morningstar. Our hearts thumped. What brother could they be talking about?

Morningstar, however, remained perfectly passive. He blinked and raised a hand to us gently, as we stood on anxious knife edge.

“Peace,” he said, without looking at us. Then he smiled pleasantly at Morté. “What brother of ours might this be?”

Morté lifted his brow, a hand rising and finger shoving at his terribly sharp-featured face, with a jaw so strong it could shatter glass. “One that I am most concerned with.”

I frowned. Why would Morté feel at all threatened by a primordial? He was a god of death, for heaven's sake, who ruled one of the underworlds (yes there were a fair few, but it still meant he had power many of us could only dream of). My eyes remained on Morningstar.

I would not look at Sephora. I would not look at Sephora.

“And who might that be?” Morningstar spoke carefully, each syllable a perfected oyster of charm and irritation.

Morté lowered his hand, and extended it towards the other throne. There was a hesitation before pale fingers slipped into hold with his. Sephora.

“Thanatos,” the King of Rahl breathed.

My lips parted, and I felt struck dumb. Thanatos was the personification of death itself, a man who I had been great friends with in our early years. Whereas I brought about destruction, he gave instantaneous end to any life, and together we could fell small communities. It was the two of us who had been responsible for an early civilisation's collapse, before I realised my mistake and swore never to do such a thing again.

Shortly after that time Thanatos had disappeared. The Great Calamity had struck and he was never seen again, presumed dead.

Morningstar furrowed his brow and looked at me, then Nyx and Hemera. I blinked. He had asked me to stay silent. But then he settled on Nyx.

“You knew him best,” he intoned.

She paused, and I seemed to remember that her and Thanatos had, at one time, been intimate. Sharply, I breathed in and gazed at her also.

“He died. I have not seem him since the Calamity, neither has Hemera … and I am certain Charon.”

His lips pressed together as he considered my words. Then he waved a dismissive hand, clearly meaning that her time for speaking was over. Morningstar switched his attention back to Morté.

“Thanatos, it is said, is dead,” he summarised.

Morté blinked a moment, his fingers curling tighter around his wife's hand. Around me my siblings relaxed back into previous positions.

“Well, whomever it is, who is using his name is certainly demonstrating great powers akin to his. Souls have come into my realm claiming he killed them.”

Morningstar breathed in slow. My focus was currently on the joined hands.

“I see,” my brother said. “But perhaps this situation need not concern me. He might never cause issue in anything of my interest.”

“Any one of your siblings, left unchecked, could be capable of tremendous power.”

Morningstar found himself pausing. “I am sorry … what. What power is my own.”

“Indeed,” Morté kept his face perfectly calm. “But you are sane. And your case is unique. Your other siblings … well.” He flourished his free hand to Nyx, Hemera, Geras and myself. His hand remained pointing at me for some time before it dropped.

“Any of my siblings is perfectly allowed and able to go and do as they wish - unless I take a particular interest.”

Case and point, myself.

“Indeed,” Morté inclined his head, “and if I or others decide to, but you cannot deny that your kind’s potential has divine consequences.”

“We cannot create, nor or omnipotent,” Morningstar replied, using the very examples I had once to him, “we are not gods, and neither are you.”

“I?” Morté raised his brow, “I am as close to a god as it is possible to be, without being truly divine. As is my wife, and my children.” And he gestured behind him.

It was then I saw them.

Ten male and female individuals, that had been so tightly collected together and dressed in so much black they looked part of the courtiers. They were so intermingled amongst the other denizens of Rahl that I had not realised they were separate. Now that I saw, however, I noticed every one of them had a thing silver band upon their crowns. My lips parted as I realised that she could be amongst them.

It seemed a great amount of the activity today was concerning me. Which was not surprising as the being Morningstar was meeting the King of Death, my old employer. Thanatos at least had been Nyx's lover, not mine. There was still the issue that Morté had decided to bring all his children, whom I had thought to simply be commoners in his retinue, and one of them could be mine. However, he still did not know, and I had never sought to let the child know. Barely could I point her out from her siblings anyways.

They all stood in a bundle, ranging from what would seem to be five (in human years) to adult maturity. There was a variation if they had horns or not - as their father was akin to a demon lord and their mother, who had been a drow originally, but whom he had blessed. They were either pale, dark skinned or of greyish pallor. Variation also occurred in the height, gender and build, though all had strength and none were overly skinny. I knew Selene was dark haired, pale skinned and had blazing red eyes - but there were three daughters under that description. I would need to get closer.

“It may not be Thanatos,” Morningstar said in a tone as if agreeing with a statement.

I was brought back to the courtroom. Apparently conversation had continued as I had become lost in pointing out Selene from the rest.

“There are other matters, in general, as to what happens if one of your siblings becomes out of control. With the Old Gods gone there is nothing to keep you in review and rein.”

“Those gods have been gone for … millennia. There has been no need for ‘review and rein’ as you call it thus far,” Morningstar spat.

“You are some of the only creatures who have been here since the beginning of time,” Morté replied, “who knows what potential some of you have.”

“Some,” Morningstar smiled slightly, clearly meaning himself.

“Yes, and surely the personification of death could be capable of rising from said death.”

“Nyx here is the personification of the night, but she cannot stop it coming. Neither can Hemera the day, nor Geras cease the power of age.”

“Each of them are integral to nature,” Morté leaned to the side.

Morningstar shrugged, lazily. “So is death. So is … sleep, destiny, fate, judgement,” he pointed to himself, “power,” and he waved a hand at me, “destruction.”

“Empathy,” I muttered under my breath.

“But this is not a discussion about my siblings and I. You came here for diplomacy.”

Morté paused, before his eyes flickered to his wife. I had to look away, knowing that if I looked at her once, I would be undone.

“Indeed we did. A greeting to a greeting, ally to ally.”

Murmurs began. Whispers and gasps of confusion and suspicion.

“Allies?” My brother lifted an eyebrow as he slid his fingers through the hair of the blonde girl before him.

“Indeed,” Morté eyed Morningstar. “We both have similar interests, and if there were anything to happen … violently. Catastrophically.”

I blinked, my brows rising as those particular wordings could mean the new Calamity itself. The same thing I was currently researching for Morningstar.

“And what … form of alliance would this take?” Morningstar said slowly, though I could see the tension in my brother's face.

The King of Death smiled. “Anything.”

“Trade? I have plenty of food,” Morningstar paused and waved a hand dramatically in the air.

There was a shuffle of footsteps as four athletic males broke from the shadows of the pillars and ran forwards, bearing silver trays, laden with glorious food. Two went to Morté, and bowed before offering some to him and Sephora. The last two came to Morningstar and bent low on their knees, offering their food up. Morningstar thanked them politely, then observed the food before leaning over to pluck a grape.

Morté scowled a little, but moved to grab olives. “I was thinking trade in other things. Resources. Time. Information.”

The last made me suck in my breath quickly. And resources … that could mean anything. It could mean building materials, arms, even people. At that last thought my blood ran cold as I took a step back.

Morningstar hissed quietly behind a chunk of seeded bread. “Stay where you are, he is not getting you. Any of you.” It was not a firm reassurance, nor that grand, so my heart still thumped.

Then he swallowed and pulled on a dazzling, fake smile. He raised his voice again. “There are many types of trade, indeed. Perhaps you should draw up a list of what you think you could gain from myself, and I will do the same.”

“An alliance of arms would also be beneficial.”

“Well my standing army is not here,” Morningstar shrugged. And I blinked, certain that he did not have a standing army. A few warriors, yes, but an army? He was far more a manipulator of people, with ideas and deals made with a thousand nobles. Fear and threats were part of him, but he was the kind with power within a court, not on a battlefield.

“And neither is mine,” Morté shrugged. “Let us hope they do not accidentally run into one another whilst their masters are away. Unfortunate events might happen.”

The room went silent. Morningstar paused, his food partly to his mouth. He threw it down onto the platter and leant forwards, eyes shining with anger. “When you say 'resources’,” he was suddenly talking fast and furious, forgetting decorum. “What do you want?”

Morté raised a brow, slowly lowering his own food. Beside Morningstar I could see many of the courtiers who had abilities of potential violence now curling their hands into fists, or reaching for weapons. They were subtle gestures only, not clear intention, but with the amount of ire in their faces I knew of the possibilities here.

Letting go of his wife's hand seemed to cause even more tension. Sephora, although I did not look at her directly, sank a little with despair. Her eyes focused on the group I was with and I kept up my passion of not watching at all.

“To put not plainly, I know you are a man of information. I also know you have recently uncovered an expert researcher - there are rumours all over with it. I want to know what you know. I want an understanding that whatever useful names, items, titles you might uncover by this research. That and I want the understanding that if I come with you with a question, you will answer it.”

Morningstar blinked. “And resources, I am guessing you wish to use my network within the mortal realm?”

“That and any physical resources you might be able to provide. People, for instance, like this mysterious researcher. Who are they, by the way?”

His last question slipped out as a note of innocence. It stunned Morningstar for a moment into silence, and I myself kept my attention ahead, knowing that the researcher could very much be myself.. “You ... do not know?”

“No,” Morté frowned. And he narrowed his eyes, suddenly looking over the crowd of the court. “Are they here?”

“What would I gain in return?” Morningstar interrupted his search.

“The same. Information, when I can give it from the souls I torture.” He grinned. I grit my jaw, my nights still sometimes filled with the sounds of screams. “People, of military training. You really should get some guards. I expected there to be more.” And he paused. “And you could do with a spouse. Why not choose one of my children? Obviously only the older ones.”

Morningstar suddenly stood. “I need time, to talk with my advisers,” he quickly said.

Morté observed him for a moment, but then nodded, and stood also. “And I will do the same.” Elegantly, he waved a hand as he began to quickly walk around to the back of the party of Rahl.

“Nyx, Hemera, Geras,” Morningstar said in a low voice. “Vitus, Marlina … Charon.”

I looked up from where I had been glaring at the floor. My brother's eyes were on me. Quickly, he pointed to a door close to, but not that of, the library. “Come. Now. If you are with me, you are with me. It's that or him.”

And he looked at where Morté was, gathering up his chosen few individuals. Sephora was staring at the ground before her, leaning over and looking ill. As I found myself focusing on her for the first time in all of this my heart began to heavily beat in sympathy. Because that man whom she was devoted was a cruel tyrant, manipulative and horrific. Morningstar at least had some semblance of morals.

Silently, I made my decision, and unfolded my arms as I shrugged after my siblings. Morningstar smiled satisfyingly as he led us away from his pageant towards another life.

We were led into a room about as large as the library, which was primary taken up by a huge, ornate, round table. Around this, evenly spaced, were chairs - fifteen of them - and one was definitely grander than the rest. There was no mistaking who it was for as Morningstar strode right over to it and settled down with a scowl. In the seats around him the two nobles and my siblings began to take seats, seemingly in a random order. That was good in terms of showing me there was no hierarchy here - aside from Morningstar himself. I remained by the door, hands back in the pockets of my stupid robe, wondering why I was really here.

Morningstar sat rigid, watching them all descend into chairs. His eyes flickered left to right as he took them all in. As they dropped into seats he gave each one a small nod, as if gathering in their loyalty, or counting them off in his head. The fifth one settled, then he paused, eyes flickering from empty space at the table to the next, until he realised I had not moved.

“Charon,” he growled, eyes like burning pits of hell.

“You wanted me here so I am here,” I said in a low voice, but not moving.

“Sit,” he gestured to a seat.

I stared back at him. “We have had this conversation, Morningstar. Many times. I might be 'with’ you on this account, but I am not yours.”

“On this day you are,” he hissed, and he pointed, harder, “sit.”

“My lord,” one of the nobles - Vitus, presumably, as he was male - suddenly spoke up. Morningstar's eyes darted angrily to him. “My lord … perhaps the rogue is correct. He does not belong at this table. He has refused your generous offer to serve you, several times. He should stay there.”

Strangely, I found myself in alliance with the noble. Nodding in agreement I smiled, despite the situation and the man outside. “Exactly. I'm a 'rogue’.”

“Charon ...”

“Brother,” I came forwards, releasing my hands from the pockets. For a moment it looked as if I was going to take a seat, but then I slammed them heavily on the back of a chair and leaned on it, staring at him with cold eyes.

“Morningstar, I am here because you practically forced me to come. And because I like you that small bit more than that ass outside. That fucking bastard is a backstabber, a mongrel and you should not make any deal with him. You want my advice? Don't even listen to him. He threatened you, or did you not hear that through the weight of your inflated ego?”

Morningstar fixed me with a hard stare. The room was utterly silent. I kept glaring at him back, not caring about what he put me through for this defiance before his loyal close court. Moments ticked by, and I kept pressure on the chair before me.

“My lord, ignore him. Send him to his cell. You don't need-”

“As far as I am concerned,” Morningstar interrupted Vitus quietly, “Charon is the one individual who knows Morté the best …” he kept his eyes on me. “I requested that you come here because you can give me the greatest advice on the subject. Why cannot I trust him?”

I paused, and my eyes glanced around the table briefly, wondering if I really should answer. All eyes were on me, and the other individuals, aside from Vitus who was a raging inferno of frustration, were patiently listening.

Letting out a sigh I gestured at myself. “Because you get messed up cases like myself. For five millennia I lived under that bastard. Every deal I made with him in the beginning he broke, one by one, until I was nothing more than a slave. The first woman I loved he killed, simply because I dared to have a heart. It was not just me either. He's subjected thousands of souls in Rahl to his will, broken all deals he has made with them. Sephora - she's a whole other subject in itself. He's a cruel man, and he will break promises as easily as one might crush a blade of straw. You cannot trust him, Morningstar.”

Imploringly, I stared at him. Though I did not intense feelings of brotherly love for him, I did not want to see him crushed as I had been. Where Morningstar was a villain, Morté was the ultimate nemesis, the powerful devil at the end of an exciting adventure series, whom the party had been seeking to destroy all seven books. All of this I knew, because I had experienced and seen.

“But he has power,” Morningstar said slowly, “and as you said, he threatened me. I did not miss that Charon. But if I dismiss and disregard every deal he tries to make, then that could be the end of all I have built.”

There was a pause, before Nyx murmured. “Can … can he be defeated?” Her eyes turned to me.

I blinked. “Well firstly, there is the whole issue of Thanatos possibly being alive …” I answered, raising my eyebrow.

“If it is him, I can deal with him,” she shrugged, a small smile on her face.

Them being close had always unnerved me, as we were all siblings, but then we had no technical genetic connected. We had literally been burped from Khaos, and only called ourselves siblings because of that connection.

“So you can flirt him back to sanity?” I chortled a note of laughter.

Her smile grew and she fluttered her eyelashes at me.

“Bringing this back to the topic in hand,” Morningstar said loudly. Our eyes turned back to him. He was looking at me again. “There is more danger here of refusing every alliance negotiation he tries to broker, rather than him breaking said deal. Thus, that cannot be done.”

“Then you should not have invited him here,” I sighed.

“I didn't,” Morningstar testily replied, “he invited himself.”

My brows rose and I stared at him, wondering why Morté would have done such a thing. The answer was, however, rather obvious when one considered it. It was me, being here now, rather than down below. It was the threat of the pretend Thanatos. It was the rumours everyone was speaking of, of the impending doom to come - except I was one of the only ones who had begun to decipher it.

“I see,” I said slowly, and I looked down at the top of the chair I leant on, considering. Slowly I breathed in. “'Researcher’,” I commented.

“Yes, Thaynes know where he found that out from,” Morningstar scowled, and he gestured at me. “You are not giving him any information.”

“Well. Lets just say I'd rather swear fealty to you,” I answered, tartly.

“Wait,” there was an interruption. A soft, light voice like sunlight drifting through trees in streams of white yellow. Looking up, I glanced at Hemera. “You're … you are the researcher Lord Morningstar has been speaking of?”

Tilting my head I glanced to Morningstar, “what have you been saying?”

He waved a hand at me, dismissively. “Indeed, sister. It is the main reason I am currently entertaining his defiance of me. Although he will of course, spend some time here for recompense of it.”

“I need to be back to classes on Monday,” I grunted.

Everyone seemed to ignore me. Hemera breathed out in astonishment. “I never … well it does explain much, my lord.”

“Indeed,” Morningstar said, with a nod, then he sat taller. “Not brokering a deal is not something I am willing to commit to, not with how volatile Charon suggests he can be. Therefore,” he clasped his hands before him and set them on the table. “We will agree to only what we can lose to afford.”

A beat of silence. Nyx lifted her head a little, asking a question lightly; “What about … I said before if we could destroy him?”

Morningstar glanced to the door, as if expecting someone to charge in. But his expression was thoughtful. “Charon?”

I looked impressed that he was even considering it. “If you're planning on ending Morté, I will happily sit at this table with you and tell you how proud I am as your big brother.” I grinned, then narrowed my eyes. “That is not my fealty though, you still won't get that.”

“Hmm,” he grunted, and looked at the nobles. “What resources do I have that would assist here? For trade or for … what Nyx suggested.”

“Lord Morningstar … what about making the deal with him with the view to eventually destroy him?” Nyx replied quietly. “He will likely be planning on doing something similar.”

Vitus nodded in agreement. “In that case, sir, we have four cities in which we hold property, estates and businesses in your name. If needed we could summon perhaps five thousand men between us for an army. I believe we have contacts with the newly risen Crimson Hand, and there is a small contingent of spies and assassins who call themselves the Sparrows, from what I have been told.”

“How much money are we currently making per month?”

“When one considers all of the voluntary tax and the donations we have received you are earning a hundred and fourteen thousand gold per month,” Marlina perked up. “For this month we are at a hundred and twenty three thousand and sixty silver.”

A lot of money. My brows rose, but Morningstar did not seem shocked. “Enough to work with,” he commented. “Now, the marriage issue.”

There was another pregnant pause. Nyx leant forwards.

“Lord Morningstar … would that not be a mistake, considering all that Charon has said. You yourself said we must only commit what we are willing to lose. Surely a marriage would be inadvisable. It would give Morté a reason to manipulate you more.”

Morningstar smiled slightly. “Not if it turned out the daughter was never his.”

All were stunned to silence. Including myself, gazing at him with a calculated look. As I thought about what he was saying, my head began to shake and I slowly rose from my heavy lean on the chair.

“You cannot mean …”

“Do you know for absolute certain she is not yours,” he asked me, matter of factly.

I cringed, “Morn, I don't know how you found out, but that history is past. She is his, in all ways that matter. Sephora never told her, I never told her. She's a princess, and she's Morté's child.”

“But what would genetics show?” He asked, a grin spreading to his face.

“Bah, I am not having you for a son in law.”

“Okay what is going on?!” Nyx was staring from one of us to the other, eyes wide.

Morningstar was beaming, eyes gloriously bright. “Charon here had an affair with Sephora. Morté's queen.”

I began to shake my head, looking at him disappointed, “you can't keep your mouth shut, can you?”

Nyx gasped, “does Morté know?”

I looked at her, “no, and he's never going to.” My eyes moved firmly to Morningstar. “You want me to stay around here, and still be as useful as I have been, then you make sure nobody talks of it outside of this room. It would mean her certain death.”

Morningstar surprisingly inclined his head in agreement. “Naturally. They will all agree. Everyone in here has my complete trust … aside from you.”

I rolled my eyes at him but concentrated back to Nyx. “Sephora and I … broke up, when she became pregnant, but is likely it is Morté's.”

“As are possibly more of them,” Morningstar nodded. “I know she has had many affairs over the millennia.”

“Then, why don't you go for one of them?” I scowled.

“Easy,” he shrugged, “I have confirmation she may be another man's daughter. That and she may come in handy in bribing yourself.”

My brow rose at the master manipulator before me, looking at him steadily. Slowly I leant back down, folding my arms along the top of the seat I was on, the dull golden manacles briefly glinting before I tugged the sleeves of the robe back down.

“If you are concerned I will not touch her. It will be nothing short of a deal of convenience, a power which Morté will believe has hold of me, before I find it apt to produce the truth.”

“And then destroy him?” I said in a low voice. “Because you have stopped me from doing that already. Or … can I just kill him now?”

“No, not now. But if the time is right we will destroy him, later,” he murmured in reply.

Slowly I breathed, judging him. Of course, it could turn out that Selene was Morté's after all. But then, if Morningstar was being sincere, he could claim the marriage was never consummated and thus have it annulled. For his own safety, and the personal wrath I would pour on him, were he to break that agreement, I hoped he would be true.

“If I have your word you will not touch her …” I said slowly.

Simply, he inclined his head. “I have no interest in heirs.”

“Then I will make as little of a fuss about it as I can manage,” I replied.

“Then the decision is made,” he leant back slowly, raising his chin and thinking. “We will see what he can offer first. Peace is better than nothing here.”

“What if he asks for an exchange?” Hemera suddenly said. “A spouse for his eldest?”

Morningstar frowned, “I have no children to offer.”

“But you have siblings,” Nyx said quietly.

The room fell dumb. Only breathing could be heard for the few seconds that past, one agonisingly after another.

“An exchange of hostages,” I murmured, staring at the wood of the table, “it is something he has done before.”

Morningstar glanced from sibling to the next, eyes piercing. “With one exception, you are loyal to me, and all of you have your use. I would not openly ask this of anyone.”

“I will go,” Hemera murmured, “I am strong enough.”

“No, sister,” Nyx leant over to take her hand. “I will do it.”

“What about Moros?” Vitus asked, “surely he would be willing.”

“He is away. You can barely speak for him in terms of marriage when he is not here.”

“My lord, how about you send the rogue,” Vitus grinned at me, “he goes unless he swears fealty to you.”

I began to rise from my crouch, eyes becoming blades. “I can kill you, elf, even without my power.”

He raised a hand, invitingly. “Bring it on, you weakling.”

Rising, I rolled my shoulders back, preparing. Beside me Hemera and Nyx had comforting hands on one another, but were watching in a mixture of horror and excitement. Marlina was giving us both calculating looks, likely assessing who would win, who she should place bets on. Cracking my knuckles I began to take steps around as Vitus gracefully rose from his seat.

“Stop,” Morningstar's commanding voice filled the room.

Instantly Vitus dropped back into his chair. I scowled grumpily, turning back to my brother. Geras, the silent grump, was leaning towards him, eyes hard and set. It looked as if they had been speaking, which was entirely possible without any of our notice as the argument had begun. Nyx and Hemera clasped their hands before each other again, and Morningstar stared at me. Eventually I sighed, and slumped back over to lean against the chair I really should have been sitting in.

When satisfied we were all listening, Morningstar folded his arms. “Geras has offered, and I have agreed that if it comes to it, he will go. That is my final word on the subject.”

And that was it. I felt relieved, that at least any chance of me going was depleted - not that I would have accepted and would have fought against it with every word I had.

“If it ends up just being an exchange of marriage, then it is that,” my brother said quietly, “but through it we will achieve some semblance of peace, gain information about this … new Thanatos, an possibly learn more about how to bring down a man like Morté.”

“Then you are serious?” I asked, heart beating heavily. “You will consider it? Destroying him?”

His lips pursed. Then they quirked into a smile, and he gestured to the seat in front of me. Slowly I blinked at him, huffing out a long breath. To join them there … it would still not be me being his. He was inviting me to sit, with all the knowledge and connections between us, and to give me something in return. Of course, the current focus of attention had to be the impending apocalypse.

Him, or the man outside. They were my choices. There was no longer a life where I existed on my own.

Pulling in my breath I grunted, and moved around to the seat. Dropping heavily into it I slouched, the thorn amongst the roses, my fingers twisting into my clothing. I felt a tug, and looked down to see Nyx’s hand encouragingly squeezing my forearm.

“Good,” Morningstar said, satisfied at last. “Now we are complete.” He rested his hands on the table. “It will work thus …”

“So. You have had enough time?”

The cruel, dark eyes of Morté watched as our small party made its way back to the dais. I kept to the back, my heart pounding for what decisions I had made that day, for what we had just all done. How would Sephora react when Morningstar spoke of his selection of bride?

We took our previous places, myself gently pushing my way to the back and staying there, right behind Nyx and Hemera, so I could stare at the middle ground as I considered my future. The idea of having my possible daughter around, in our life. The sacrifice of Geras - although Morningstar had said he would be more of a spy than anything. The fact I had finally given up something of my resistance, and submitted to his request of letting lead this heroic charge to end a tyrant.

Morningstar calmly took his seat again, back straight and hands poised on his lap. Curtly, he nodded. “I have. And have you.”

“Indeed,” Morté smiled.

“Then please,” Morningstar gestured elegantly.

“Firstly, I want him back. He is mine,” a long, white finger rose and shoved itself at me. I lifted my brow, Nyx and Hemera looked alarmed. Glancing sideways to Morningstar I watched as my brother slowly, politely, smiled.

“You have nothing or nobody of equal value that I desire. And his use to me is high, and he is described as 'mine’ now, not 'yours’. Out of the question.”

A small sigh of relief came from the room, out of a female voice. I was surprised to hear that it came from the other party, and I was surprised to see everyone was gazing at Sephora. She had a hand to her mouth, and her eyes were lifted up to where I stood.

Quickly, I looked away, avoiding eye contact still. Morté looked at her, alarmed and confused, before he concentrated back to the conversation.

“I want an agreement to arms. The other will go to war if the other is.”

Morningstar frowned, leaning to the side. “But I barely go to war. I desire peace above all. That deal would be very unfair. How about … a deal of open friendship? We will not attack one another's realms, in any way. Unless the other breaks the trust of course.” And he brought a neutral smile to his face again.

Morté curled his lip. “Fine. Friendship it is. We will not attack you, you do not attack us. Now,” he raised his chin. “Information. And exchange; if I ask for information on a subject, you provide it, and vice versa.”

Morningstar shook his head. “My dear Morté, I am a man who runs a kingdom based on information. And you mentioned my researcher before. I do not think you have enough value for exchange to make it my worth while.”

Eyes narrowed. We, the rest of us, were all dead silent. “How about information specifically about events that affect not only us, but also the wider world?” he suggested.

“Certainly, but I will determine what I think is going to affect you. And what is reasonable for you to know.” Morningstar leant to one side in his throne, eyes focused.

“That second part …”

“Fine. Anything world changing. Unless it stupidly obvious, like impending doom for us all.”

Morté laughed at the dramatic manner, “fine. I choose also what is necessary for you to know.

“Fine,” my brother agreed to this. For standard two situations came up to be noted: the apocalypse to come, and the issue of the possibly-fake Thanatos. The latter Morté may have heard of already in rumour form, and Morningstar could at least limit the information on it that I discovered on it, to give to the tyrant. But - Morningstar's further comment. Over what was 'stupidly obvious’. He was easing in his own secret clause for the current doom.

“I also want an exchange of goods. Some of your wine, grape harvest and olives on the way here, for cider from my groves, and other goods.”

Morningstar raised a brow and looked to his left. Vitus poised there, and waited until his lord gestured.

“Five barrels of wine a month,” Vitus said, “and a small tithe of the grape and olive harvests, equating to no more than one hundred kilograms of each per week.”

That seemed to satisfy the King of Death. I noticed that the words 'not exceeding’ were included, revealing the fact that Morningstar could send him a single olive, and still be within contract.

“Very well. And lastly, my suggestion that we seal this agreement with marriage.” He slowly smiled, eyes dancing as he stared at Morningstar. “What do you say to that?”

My brother inclined his head. “On one condition.”

An elegant gesture from Morté said that he was willing to hear.

“That I choose my bride. And I grant you a contract of marriage back. Whomever wants him can have him.”

“Him?” Morté sat up, interested, “who are you suggesting marries into my family? It better be an individual of importance.”

“Family for family,” Morningstar agreed. “It has been discussed, and my brother,” he raised a hand and gestured to his right. I could see Morté glancing at me in the rare hope, “Geras has agreed.”

All eyes turned on the grump as he lurked in the periphery of the group. The primordial who represented age blinked, gazing right at Morté, as he assessed him. A small look of disappointment came to Morté, when he compared Geras to Nyx or Hemera, or even me, however after a moment of contemplation he nodded.

“Very well. What bride do you wish to choose for yourself?”

I had given him a rather clear description of her. Tall. Black haired, with horns that branched back to her skull, coloured as her pale, but ashy flesh. Her startlingly red eyes were what would directly mark her out, alongside the scar at her right ear, that she hid with her loose hair, but I knew of because I had studied her so much. I also knew that a blow from Morté in her young years had caused it. Her mother had rushed with her unconscious form to me and I had spent all my spare time nursing her back to health. Those days had been some of the best of my life.

Slowly Morningstar rose from his throne, lifting his chin. Clasping his hands before him, he began to descend from the dais, leaving the rest of us behind. Beneath his feet the bracken crushed, in the fresh new path that had not been trod between the parties. With the halo of chocolate brown hair my brother made his lonesome way from his own party to his.

Several people tried to follow him. However the man with the power to take that from others placed out his hand, ceasing their movements. I for one stayed where I was, trusting that he would keep to his promise and not touch her. Pressing myself back towards the swatches of fabric that dressed behind me, extending from the throne, I kept watching Morningstar, carefully.

We all did. He was going alone into what could very easily be enemy territory, into what I considered enemy territory. Where my greatest foe resided, and my greatest love.

Damn, I still loved her, despite what she was, what she had done. And my brother was about to choose her daughter for a bride. Potentially my daughter.

What the hell had I agreed to?

Morningstar came to Morté and Sephora. No movements came from the other side as my brother, and the man I worked for, fixed the King of Death with a firm look. Breathing slow, he glanced to Morté's queen, and dipped his head in greeting, before his eyes lifted to view their many children.

More than ten, about fifteen, and a fairly even split of male to female. One girl was far too young, two had blonde hair, and so he easily dismissed them. A further lacked horns - I his eyes pass over her as he looked on the three girls I had noted before. Those who had black hair and pale skin, with twisting horns extended from their heads. One of them he seemed to assess quickly was not she he looked for, and then his eyes remained to the two last. For a long minute he moved his eyes from one to the other, head slightly twitching to indicate so to us who watched him from behind. Keenly, we waited, elegantly, Morté leant away from him as he made his choice. And Sephora was on baited breath, her lip trembling because, after all, they were all her children.

There was a moment where he twisted his head to the side. And I knew what he was doing; looking for the scar. Agonising seconds passed, ticking by insensitively. But then …

Gracefully he extended a hand, outwards towards her. “My lady?” he asked softly.

When I saw the horror on Sephora's face, I knew he had chosen correct. Breath rushed out of my lungs as I focused in on the beauty he had chosen for his bride. Carefully the girl glanced to Morté, who was for intention, her father. Once, the man nodded approvingly.

She sucked in a breath, and placed her hand in Morningstar's. A smile came to his face as he folded his fingers around hers and began to lead her from the group of her siblings.

“Your name?” he asked, so that all the room could hear.

And she whispered. “Selena.”

With relief I sighed. He had got it right.

She came over, head bowed and eyes set to the floor, upon Morningstar's arm. As soon as they had come over halfway Morningstar looked over and looked at Geras.

My brother with the scowl grunted. “Wish me luck,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed away from us. With a sigh coming to his lips he began his own way down the dais, eyes on Morningstar. As they came to meet Geras bowed his head before lifting it again and striding over to Morté. My eyes had to dart quickly from group to group as Geras arrived and Morté stood. The King of Death grinned a little and turned from Geras to his many children. He began to speak quietly to him, in a volume we could not hear.

“He will be fine,” Morningstar’s low voice came to our ears. Looking up I saw him coming up to his throne, hand still around that of Selena, who followed behind him. His eyes were on myself, Nyx and Hemera.

“But, brother, my lord …” Hemera anxiously said.

Morningstar shook his head as he finally let go of Selena's hand. He stepped back and addressed her. “Princess Selena, welcome to my court.”

I breathed in long and slow and forced myself to look away, folding my arms. Instead of looking at she who was intended to be my brother's bride, I focused on the patterns in the rich red material beside me. I could hear Morningstar's murmurs as he briefly introduced Selena to them. As our party loosened I began to find an avenue to leave, with the intent of moving to the library.

A soft hand lay on my arm. I looked to see Nyx smiling. “He won't want you to leave yet. They'll be drinks now, I'm sure. Formal toasting, and all that.”

“I'd rather …” I gestured at the door, meaning the cell at the end of the stairs leading from them.

Nyx smiled slightly, “one drink, brother.”

“One,” I growled.

And she nodded, encouragingly.

The groups merged, becoming one. Two kingdoms united through marriage, despite it being a farce on one side. But we would wait well beyond the time when they had left. Geras would be with them, likely now a spy, and Selena would be with Morningstar. Within my limited grasp. I could get to know her, my daughter.

If she was mine.

There I was, awkwardly holding my second goblet of wine. After I had finished one I had attempted to sidle away as a mixture of underworld Rahlians - those of Rahl - mingled with the being of Morningstar's court. But easily my brother had stepped to my side, fakely smiling to others as he subtly took my wrist and brought me back around to face them. He shoved another drink in my hand.

“Not yet, brother,” he whispered.

“I still want to kill him now,” I muttered under my breath. “And I have to wait for that.”

“We made an agreement,” he hissed, and took a couple of steps back into the crowd, taking me with him. “You sat down at my table. Celebrate with me, and then you can go.”

“You're annoying,” I grunted.

And he left me there, letting go of me to join his farcical new allies. Huffing I rejoined as a grumpy scoundrel and rogue, eyeing up Vitus. We exchanged a few looks, and I honestly hoped at one point I would have the chance to fight him.

I ended up on the periphery of the crowd, detailing my own entertainment, but staying. It was safer on the fringes, alone.

“You haven't looked at me once,” the pure, melodic finally sounded beside my ear.

I stilled, the breath rushing from my lungs. I did not move, did not look to her. Because I knew exactly who she was. Instead I glanced around us and made sure no one was watching.

“Selena,” she murmured.

“It wasn't my idea,” I answered in a grunt, bringing my goblet to my lips.

She sighed, slowly. “At least … she'll be protected.”

I swallowed hard, my eyes dropping down and staring into the warm red liquid. Room temperature. Exactly how it should be, and a rich taste.

“... Sephora-”

“Who else knows?” she whispered. “Aside from him and you?”

“The people in the room,” I answered, tapping a finger on the metal of the goblet. My heart beat hard in my chest, threatening to burst out in a flurry of blood and pain. “They … won't say anything. He asked them and they worship him so …”

“Good.” Out of the periphery of my vision I saw her nod once, firmly.

“He said there were others,” I whispered, thumping in my ears. “Others … like me.”

“I've been married to him for thousands of years, Char. What do you think?”

So I wasn't special. Not one tiny bit - our thirty years of romance were just another one of her many affairs, and my one single restbite in my slavery.

It hurt, stung, for a moment. But then it flew away on brief wings, because I had already survived twenty years out of that place, and though my heart still beat for her, and though I still could not look at her, I had somehow limited my care of her. I did not burn every time I thought about her, cried when her name was mentioned. What I thought about most was my daughter that her and I might have together.

“I see,” I breathed.

“You left me, there, with no more allies,” she replied.

“I needed to. And you left me first.”

She rolled her eyes. “To protect our daughter.”

“Oh so she is mine now,” I scowled.

“Stop it, you know what I mean.”

It was my turn to hiss and roll my eyes. Savagely I stared into my goblet, then downed it. The rich taste trickled down my throat, pungent and slightly smokey. Seconds passed as I calmed.

“You'll take care of her?” she asked.

Closing my eyes I nodded, clutching the goblet. “Of course I will.”

There was a sigh of satisfaction from her. “Good. Just keep her safe, and I will do my best to … protect your brother.”

“Geras will be fine,” I said in a low voice. “And I barely know him, really. I haven't much power here, but I will do what I can.”

“Char,” she said softly. “I don't love him, but I have to stay. For my children.”

I opened my eyes to glanced around us. Still, nobody was watching, all of them far enough away to not be interested.

“And I don't care much for my brother, but I have to stay here now. For her.” And for the prospect of bringing Morté down. I watched her from the corner of my eyes but kept my eyes forward.

“And because he got you, didn't he?” she grimaced a little.

“Who do you mean?” I growled.

“Morningstar,” she replied, her eyes dancing over me. “Come on, Char, I know you. You wouldn't willingly be here.”

My lips formed a thin line. “It's not like your darling husband. We made a deal.”

“I am sure. He is the king of deals, but, you still would not be here of your own accord. I know how much you hate … him. Hated what he was doing. You told me every time we-”

She which cut off as one of her children twisted around. She was a tall creature, all blonde and red eyed. Big lipped, a strong jaw and a proud look told me much that I needed to know about this ball-buster. She also happened to be the one that had accepted Geras as hers. Amusement came to my mind as I imagined what sort of relationship they would have. Love would not be on the cards. Duty, would.

“Brigette, dear,” Sephora softly said.

“Mother …” the one called Brigette said, and she gestured to me roughly, “why are you talking to that?”

“And that was why I left,” I hissed at her. Finally I swung around and stared her in the face. I very briefly met her eyes, holding it for a few small moments as my heart thudded, and all those long minutes of resisting her as her gorgeous purple eyes pierced mine and I was lost, so lost in the wonders of the woman I had loved the most. Still loved? Did I? I accepted she had other lovers easily, but did I still love her?

“Mother …?” Brigette murmured, shocked.

The woman was fully turned around to me. Our hearts beat in succession, our eyes locked. Together we breathed, together we thought, together we dreamed what could have been had she never gotten pregnant. Perhaps we could have ended Morté on our own and ruled, and I could have been as powerful as Morningstar …

No. No, I was not a ruler.

Furiously, I tore my eyes away. Twisting around I moved roughly past her daughter, who stared at me in stunned silence. And there were others, but it seemed they had not heard anything, they only saw as raised eyebrows and confusion came my way. Heavily I shoved my empty goblet onto a table and began to march out of the group.

Spying my brother I made for him, as he stood saying nothing next to his equally still and silent fiancé. Appearing beside him I made him gasp slightly, surprised.

“Can I go now?” I hissed at him, as quietly as I could.

Twice he blinked, and Selena brought a surprised look to her face. He took me in slowly, then looked me up and down with a frown.

“And you could have been so much better,” he curled his lip, flourished a hand. “Go then.”

I didn't care how long I might be there. I only wanted to get out of there. Striding with strength I left as fast, but as strongly as I could. Through the library, down the stairs, into the dungeon. There was no one with me, but I walked in anyway, right into the cell waiting for me, the door open.

I slammed it closed after myself.

Time passed.

I heard the sound of the drums from where I slumped on the bed. They were so loud they made the steel door shudder in its hinges. Grabbing a pillow I held it over my ears until it had died. And that meant they had gone. That Morté had gone, that Sephora had gone. My lover from the past, the woman I had hungered after until she gave in and fallen for me in return.

That had satisfied me. Quietly I lay, trying to sleep until I could no more. I rolled out of the small bed, going over to the desk where Regina had indeed left the books. I stepped over the manacles that had fallen off when I had closed the door behind me, then paused before I kicked them hard. They skittered and smashed against the wall. I ignored them, then grabbed a book and returned to my bed, to slump.

There I was for a few more hours, until a knock came to the door.

“Regina, not now,” I said, fouly. “If it's food, bring it in, leave it. If it's you brother … well you can fuck right off. I'm in a bad mood.”

I was trying to read a study by a one Derek Vareniski, who was an elf who was brother who a high priest of Raeaira, who had been told by the Raeairan gods of what they thought had occurred during the Great Calamity. It used it accounts, one from someone who knew a Thayne, and another from a tiefling who was the son of a demon lord.

“It's … I'm not …” it was a female voice. One I had not heard only once today, when she had greeted Morningstar's court. Soft, patient, and full of a thousand feelings that made my heart thump hard.

I looked up quickly.

There she was, at the grill to my cell door, finally away from her family. Black hair, like her mother's. Tall horns like mine, or her other father. Red eyes from who knew where, except from the depths of hell.

My eyes widened. I breathed out, shocked. Slightly, nervously, she smiled. “They said I'd find you here.”

I was even more stunned than I had with her mother. My lips remained parted as the breath rushed out of me, and my pulse quickened. It was just like Sephora. Unlike Sephora, however, I gazed at her right in the face, openly and without any need to break my gaze away.

“You helped me once,” she breathed, “once when … when he hurt me.”

Slowly I nodded, remembering that day. She had lain in my home, that had been little more than a hovel, for two long weeks before she had been able to move on her own. So many times in that time I had wanted to speak to her on subjects more than, “how are you my lady?” but … I had not been strong enough.

Now I knew I was.

“Yes,” I murmured quietly.

“I see your books,” she gestured to the table with the stacks. “You've always liked to read. Even in Rahl.”

“I … guess,” I replied, my eyes flickering briefly to them.

Quickly she nodded. “You showed me my first book. Ever since then, I've been reading and …” she trailed off, blinking a few times, her eyes looking at the bars of the grill itself.

“He keeps you in here?”

“I refuse to submit fealty to him,” I replied, quietly, closing my book now, “continuously. I'm not loyal to him, he cannot control me, but I am useful. This is our arrangement when I'm here.”

“I remember you defying Morté more than once,” she nodded, “he publicly flogged you a few times. Made us all watch. You could have stopped, but you stood for what you believed in and-”

“What has Morningstar told you?” I suddenly said, my brow furrowing.

Selena stopped. A tooth paused on her lip, and she stilled. “It might … might be better if I come in,” she murmured.

My suspicions began to rise, as my blood ran warm. She had said 'him’ and 'Morté’, not 'father’. Had Morningstar already sat her down and told her it all, what her mother had been hiding from her all these years, what should have been my right to say?!

What I would have kept from her.

I swallowed, sitting up straighter. “Selena-”

“I just want to talk,” she said quickly. “How do I get in?”

Anxiously I ran I hand through my hair, looking away and hating Morningstar in this moment. How could he? Clearly it had been my subject to speak of, my issue.

“... Ff-eh-Char?”

“Sliding lock and key,” I said, lifting my eyes back up to her. “You need to find an orc called Fallon, or ask Morningstar.”

She blinked, and nodded slowly. “I'll be back soon.”

It was fifteen minutes later, and she returned with the orc. Apparently there had been some celebration below stairs also, as he was heavy lidded and still carrying a bottle. He grunted as he appeared at the grill. I raised a hand in awkward greeting as I sat on the edge of the bed, poised, as I had been in that same position most of the time. The chair from my desk sat turned towards me, and had a cushion, waiting for her.

The key scraped in the lock, and Fallon drew back the bolt. A screech of hinges and the door swung open, revealing Selena still in her glorious black dress and small pumps for shoes. She clasped her hands before her nearly and stepped in, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes glanced to me, where I blinked back with uncertainty, then to the chair I had arranged. She bit her lip as she stepped forwards to descend into it, as the door slammed shut, and she was locked in with me.

Silence fell, and we both sat perfectly still. Straight backed I was prepared to be as formally as necessary, so long as she wanted to be. This was, after all, due to be a very difficult conversation. If it began at all.

She made no move to begin, and I saw the rose blossoming slowly to her cheeks.

“Your mother never said anything, then?” I murmured.

Blinking a few times, and not needing me to confirm what I was meaning, Selena gently shook her head. “No, not at all.”

Slowly I took in a breath, my eyes flickering away. “Right.”

“She always spoke of you fondly, but then she spoke of others fondly too …”

“So she told me,” I nodded, slowly. That very day, though I really should have always known. I did know.

Her eyes skimmed over me, running around my jawline, the build of my shoulders, my nose. They looked at my hair, my ears, and finally my horns, that were so similar to her own in shape and size.

“I never intruded into your life without inside interference,” I said in a low voice. “Primarily, it was that I wanted you to have a normal life. A good life. One without any uncertainty, as a royal, with the vague possibility you could be the daughter of the family's lowly boatman.”

“Well,” she smiled tightly, awkwardly, “on that-"

“We were dating for almost thirty years,” I explained. “And she did not get pregnant once in those years. She slept with your father - Morté - sparingly in that time, but more towards the end, so it's highly like that-"

“Please!” She quickly held up a hand. I paused, stopped by the gesture. Blinking fast, I frowned, but sat up, knowing it was right to let her speak.

When it was confirmed I would be silent, she nodded, once. “Please. I … Morningstar and I already discussed this. He … had a spell ready. Said it was my choice, and that I didn't have to go through with it.”

My lips parted. I frowned, confused. The bastard had a spell already prepared? For what? A paternity test - and he had not told me? Concern grew deep in me as anger rose. I threw my gaze to the door as my hand began to collapse into a fist and muttered.

“Bas-”

“I did!”

That was enough to bring me out of my anger. Jolting, I looked over, my expression one of alarm. “You … what?

She looked right into my eyes. “I did. As in I made the decision and went through with the spell.”

“You didn't think that it would be something that should be done … later. With myself in the room, or, your mother-”

“No,” she sighed dramatically, “because, like you, Morningstar apparently thought the likelihood of it being you was slim. But that's not the point because-”

“Oh he would influence your decision,” I remarked, sourly. “He's an absolute-”

“Oh for heaven's sake! No one everyone is exasperated with you! Will you just let me speak?!”

I shut up. And blinked. Everyone was exasperated with me? Or was that just Morningstar was, so they all now were?

She sighed, and nodded after a moment. “Good. Now,” she took in a deep breath. “It was positive.”

My lips parted in confusion. “Positive? Meaning …”

“Meaning our blood is …” she gestured between us.

“Is?”

“Connected. Similar. You are my biological father.”

Two hours later I was pushing through my apartment door. I had been gone a total of a day and a half, so there was little need to worry about dust and dirt. The change in circumstances had caused Morningstar to pause, and when Selena had declared a desire to see my life as it was now, plans had been altered.

“I've only been in here a week,” I said quickly, as if I needed to explain myself, “therefore it is not …”

“It's fine,” Selena, my daughter, said quietly, eyes flickering around.

“This … is not the apartment I picked out, Char,” the voice of my second accompanying party said.

Heavily, I sighed, ignoring him. Aiming through the small hallway I went straight into the living room I had partially converted into a library. Simply for the Rahl of it, and so I could satisfy myself in being able to use my powers of magic, I pooled a small ball of dark energy into my palm - about the size of a silver in diameter - and weighed it as I headed into the kitchen.

“Char?” he questioned.

“That first apartment you found was a dungheap,” I growled, “this one was owned by the same grumpy idiot follower of yours, so that should satisfy you.”

I paused as I looked back at them, my eyes resting on Selena momentarily. An awkward look passed between us, the hundredth of its kind since she had declared the blood spell’s findings. Anxiously, she looked away, letting her eyes instead wander over the bookshelves as she headed into the living room. I began to fidget with the ball of energy, rolling it around in my fingers where it made a light crackling sound.

“I guess it will have to do,” Morningstar frowned as he started towards the main, comfortable armchair. It was also known as my reading chair. He watched the ball of energy in my hand and I smiled slightly at the look of discomfort it gave him - the raw demonstration of my power.

Carefully I flicked it up, then caught it again. He breathed in sharply, and I raised my brow at him, wondering if he would dare to restrict me and my powers, in this, the world that was mine.

“You have … a lot of books.”

Glancing over I saw Selena pausing at one of the shelves, her eyes travelling up and down the floor to ceiling spine coverage.

“I've been collecting since the book was invented,” I replied, dragging the power back into my body, so it blinked from existence. “I have some scrolls, parchments and the like, but they are rare.”

“Knowledge is strength, reading is an interest of mine,” she looked back at me, a small intrigued smile on her face.

I nodded, approvingly. “I teach. At the university.”

She breathed in, suddenly interested. “Can I sit into one of your classes sometime?”

“Depends if your 'fiancé’ allows,” I grunted, as I turned to look at my brother. Then I grinned. “Tea?”

Morningstar raised his chin, and sat back, looking disgusted at me. “I have half a mind for you to quit your job and work on the project full time.”

“T-tea, yes please,” Selena said, a little flustered at the notion of being a fiancé. Her eyes were on Morningstar now, as he continued to scowl at me. “You can … do that? And … project?”

“For the last time, I am not giving up my university work, Morningstar,” I said loudly to him as I headed into the kitchen.

“I can make it so. Easily,” he snarled, as I grabbed my tin teapot from a shelf and began to fill it with water.

“What do you mean by 'project’?” Selena asked, pushing her way between us, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen.

As I lit a taper, and from that, the stove, I looked at her. “Your fath- Morté mentioned a researcher, yes?”

She nodded slowly, “ever since he found out, he's been moaning about the fact Morningstar has something he doesn't …”

“Well he had one as a potential for thousands of years, but just ruined him and misused him,” Morningstar spat. I watched over Selena's shoulder as he gestured madly at me.

Her eyes grew wide, as she looked between us. “You mean you …”

“Yes, dear. And now he's mine. Welcome to the more powerful side.”

I shoved the teapot on the heating stove with a loud clang. “Morn. For the last time-”

He growled deeply, narrowing his eyes. I broke off, but heavily rolled my eyes as I moved to grab mugs from a cupboard. Selena was quiet for a moment as she assessed the situation, eyes flickering between us two. I saw her blinking a few times as I began to prepare the tea leaves.

“Will you try to control me as you control him?” she suddenly asked, her eyes darting to Morningstar.

With interest I looked up, raising my brows. Morningstar looked at her intently.

“Are you useful?” he asked slowly and pointedly.

“What’s - what's the right answer?” she murmured.

He laughed; a single, mocking note. “No, I never plan to 'use you,’ my dear, aside from the fact that now we know you are his daughter,” he gestured roughly at me, “well. You came to us as part of a bargain with a maniac. In case you have not figured yet, I chose you quite specifically from Morté's daughters. Now, you are my brother's biological daughter, and thus our 'marriage’ will be in name only. It was going to be anyway, I've all the sex I need. Your current use to me is keeping up a facade of a deal with Morté, so that his threat is moderate. You also allow me an avenue to keep him,” he pointed right at me, “closer. Now we know your genetics, and now your home must be, at least in appearance, my court, well … he won't stray far.” His eyes shone as the kettle bank to whistle. “Questions?”

I had my brows raised as I slowly dipped the tea in the strainer into the kettle and turned off the stove I did not look at him, I did not move to react more so than I had already done. Behind me Selena kept staring at him, her hands curling into fists.

“Yes,” she nodded a little. “Why are you so interested in him?”

“Well there's a question for you,” I muttered. I gathered honey, lemon and sugar.

Morningstar ignored me. Instead he leant back, and began. “At first it was simply a desire to have what your father - other father - had. Then I discovered I wanted him. Once I learnt of his particular use as my information gatherer, then it was decided.”

“He became my biggest fan,” I drawled sarcastically, and I looked at Selena as I took up the teapot as well as the flavourings. “Able to get the mugs?”

Willingly, she nodded, her eyes meeting mine for long moment before she edged back to allow me past. I carried the teapot into the living room, then set it down with a quiet clunk. As the mugs came through Morningstar leant on his elbow and pointed at the honey and lemon, making no move to get it himself. Selena watched in silence as I threw my brother's tea together haphazardly, then set it back down before turning to her.

Shaking her head she leant forwards and began to make her own. We were silent for a while. It took time for someone to continue the conversation.

“So. If I'm your 'wife’ in name only,” she said lightly, “then I have time, and freedoms?”

Morningstar looked at her, then shrugged. “I suppose so. Freedoms enough that they act within the laws of my court.”

“Most of which are don't annoy him,” I explained to her.

“I endorse no murder without cause, rape, or slavery,” he embellished. “But yes. Try not to irritate me. So don't be him,” he nodded to me.

Selena breathed in slowly. I watched her, intrigued. I had to admit, she was taking the entire situation very well, much better than I was, with a light heart skip every time I realised she was my daughter all over again.

“I just have to appear to be a docile, respectful bride at important events,” she spoke before sipping her tea. Then she set her mug down.

“I want to do things I've never done before.”

Morningstar furrowed his brow. “Like what?”

“Like … I want to get to know him better,” she jerked her head at me. “Learn. Attend his lectures.”

My brother looked contemplative. “That … is fine. So long as appearances are kept.”

“Of course,” she replied, “and I have been a princess, that is all. I've been waiting until I was married off to some lord for my second life to start, and ended up in a farce. If I am allowed freedoms, I want a purpose. Allow me to find it, and I will do so subtly, with all decorum.”

My brother considered her, eyes moving thoughtfully across her. Lips pursed he looked at her face, her eyes, her waist, and it seemed for a second he would go back on his claim of not needing sexual contact between him and her. Silently I waited and patiently she did likewise, both of us looking back at him.

At last he sighed. “Fine. Within reasonability.”

“Great.”

Then she looked at me. I was leaning back against the small chair I sat, embracing the mug. Pausing in confusion at her look I spoke slowly.

“You do not need my permission for anything …”

“So I can just turn up to your lectures?” she rose her brow.

I shrugged, blowing on my tea. “They are technically public. Right now I only lecture once a week on Early Thayne worship during the Great Calamity, and the association thus.” I took a mouthful of tea, giving her a silence as she contemplated.

“It sounds … I have never looked into the Great Calamity. It has always sounded rather too catastrophic.”

My eyebrows rose. Glancing at Morningstar I waited with baited breath at what he wanted to inform her. It seemed, then, that if she did not understand it's importance, then Morté would not either. He did not know of the impending apocalypse to come.

“Morté did not speak about it?” Morningstar said quickly, voice still and impassive.

Selena frowned. “No … why should I …?”

“Brother, we need to talk in private,” he stood up sharply, so precisely that he did not spill a single drop of the tea he held.

I knew why but I muttered to him, “Morningstar now is really not the time …”

He sighed dramatically, “forgive me, lady for this, but …”

He raised his hand, thumb and middle finger poised. I cried out alarm as soon as I knew what was going to happen.

“Tea!” I yelled, swinging forwards to shove my cup on the table. “We better be back for that being hot.”

“Oh shut the fuck up brother,” he smiled at her. “Make yourself at home. We may be an hour or two.” And he clicked his fingers.

I already had my wrists together, boredly waiting, and I was halfway through standing. Selena watched in horror as the familiar (for me) golden manacles shimmered out of thin air, forming each grain by grain, but so rapidly that it was as if they grew rather than appeared. As they fastened over my wrists I threw her a look.

“I'll be absolutely fine. I'll be back. Soon. Read and eat what you want.”

Chains burst from the end, and fled towards Morningstar. Taking them from the air he tugged me towards him, firmly, then closed his eyes. A white light flashed. A fresh smell of grass burst into my nose. My library was there and then it was not. Then, I was back in the glory of his court.

“Surprise, I am back,” I drawled sarcastically.

There was a burst of bright laughter. Hemera fabulously came to life at my elbow, slipping her arm in with mine. As I glanced around I saw we were in his small round table room, and those who had originally been part of his advisory court, plus another human now, and without Geras were here. It seemed I had suddenly been promoted to Morningstar's inner sanctum.

“Everyone sit, including you,” Morningstar growled as he strode.

I found I was forced along. It also seemed that he did not want to go through my extensive conversations of wanting to be seated again at his table of close allies, for he looked at Hemera apologetically before physically grabbing my upper arm. Pulling me hard he urged me to the seat beside his throne, then shoved me back into it. I rolled my eyes, but stayed where I was - then was somewhat forced to stay as he shoved the end of the chain into the wood of the chair. Like a knife through butter it merged into the wood, and I was stuck there.

“I agreed to be part of your 'destroy Morté’ community, not your inner party,” I frowned at him, though I relaxed back.

He entirely ignored me as he took his place. And the others took their seats too - Vitus, Marlina and the human to one side and Hemera and Nyx to that which I was on. Morningstar looked at all of us, giving a general sweep of his eyes before he began.

“Firstly, there is a fact to share that I have been made privy to.”

“Sir, are you … sure about him?” Vitus frowned, gesturing at me, “this is, after all, your council. Your advisory court during the trade agreements was, admittedly, connected to this rogue, but this … you do not trust him.”

“Yes, hence the very reason he is bound,” Morningstar growled, “I trust his silence, and that he hates Morté more than myself. I trust he will remain true to my deal with him, and his use to me, but I do not trust him in my court, or to use his powers against me. This is my decision to have him here, not his, not anyone's. Any more objections?”

“Yes,” I threw my glare at him. “Me.”

“Your opinion does not matter in this subject, Char,” he threw a hand at me.

“Of course not,” I slumped to the side, towards where my hands were bound, and crossed one leg over the other knee. My brows raised and I prepared to listen to him.

“Formal introductions,” Morningstar said, and gestured elegantly at the human I had not met. “Grimsaine, also known as Sir Fellden of Corone, meet Charon De’Erebus, also known as Charles Rivers, my … elder brother. Primordial of Destruction.”

“That is the first time I have ever heard you make mention of the fact,” I said, surprised, and looked at the human. “Pleasure, I'm sure Sir Fellden. He forgets to mention I also have empathic qualities, for understanding what should be destroyed.”

“I … greetings, Mr De’Erebus,” he replied, in a tone that was not bitter or rough. My brow rose slightly as she gave me a curt nod, and suddenly I was aware I had a sympathiser, if not, a friend. He gave me a small smile.

“Firstly, there is information you should all be aware of.” Morningstar spoke, defiantly. Looking over, we saw him sit up straight and regard us with sincerity. I raised my brow at him but remained silent, knowing I could not get out of this, however much I asked.

“My … bride, Selena, knows of the circumstances. As far as the court knowledge is concerned, we are married. As far as this council goes, we are not. There will be no formal ceremony, no requirements for consummation. She has agreed to keep up all appearance of a marriage.”

There was no reply, just small nods.

“For the other circumstance surrounding her,” he set his hands, clasped, on the table before him. He looked to me. “Charon, perhaps you should say.”

Eyes fell on me. I pursed my lips as I stared back at him, my chest rising and falling uncomfortably. He held my gaze steady as I did not speak, and let silence extend in the room. In all honesty I was just pissed off at him bringing me into this little club of his

“Char …?” Nyx asked, confused. “What is going on?”

Morningstar paused a little, letting there be time for me to speak. When I made no move to look away he began to open his mouth.

“She-”

“It turns out Selena is, after all, my biological daughter,” I said quietly.

There were two distinctive gasps - one high and ecstatic, the other lower and shocked. My two sisters stared at me as I looked up at them from the table, the mixture of emotions upon my face showing the anxiety, concern, confusion and hope. Hemera, who was closest to me, leant over and placed a hand on my arm. She had to lean rather far as my hands were bound some distance away.

“I have a niece,” she said with a beam.

“We have a niece,” Nyx reminded her, and she smiled at me. “Congratulations, brother. Or … commiserations. It's a shock, I know. I am here to talk if you wish.”

“Thank you,” I said, sincerely, to both of them.

“With this in mind,” Morningstar continued, “Vitus, your concerns over my brother can be satiated a little, as he has a firmer reason to be here now.” He smiled elegantly, and I tightened my jaw, glaring at him once more.

My good mood was killed in a matter of seconds.

“Just to confirm,” he said carefully. “Charon
is staying, whether anyone likes it or not. Yes, it will be the first time I have ever had an individual who has not sworn loyalty to me on my small council, but neither have I had an individual so useful to me.”

My brows were high with surprise. It was a compliment and a fact I did not care for. Therefore I felt a great many things about it. I began to murmur. “Morningstar …”

“Back to business,” he leant forwards again. “It has come to light that Morté does not know about the impending apocalypse.”

The reaction I had been expecting came. Various gasps came, as well as wide eyes. I watched their reactions, assessing them carefully, and was not surprised to find most of them were shocked. Nyx was more quietly considering than anything and her eyes came to rest on me.

“Of course, there we have the advantage, as I began my own research into the prophecies some time ago, and the Morai, the three women of fate, happen to be my siblings with whom I had an understanding with, and was watching with care. Now, when they disappeared I had happened upon Charon and was keeping him, first as simply an interest, but now … we will get to him. Firstly,” he eyed the three advisors, the two elves and the human, then our two sisters, and deliberately left out me, “all of you will not speak of the apocalypse or of what research is being done, without careful consideration. I placed into the deal a note of information exchange specifically about impending doom, and so there is no reason to tell Morté."

There was no answer. All of them simply blinked back, taking his word as command, and not needing to wait for him to ask them to do so.

After a moment of silence he grunted, and waved a hand at me. “Charon,” he said.

I paused, and raised my brow. “What?”

“Tell them what you have discovered. What you have researched about the apocalypse, and the Calamity.”

“How - how much?” I asked, with a small smile, “there's a lot of it, if you want me to go into the various theories, the histories, the social impacts, the scientific outcomes, the-”

“Just the basics,” Morningstar interrupted, sharply. “What you have explained to me.”

My eyes danced over him, studying his resolute and proud expression, before I pulled in my breath. I leant back, turning to the crowd before me and starting as I would a lecture.

“Five millennia ago, the Great Calamity claimed much of our world. It destroyed much of what we know, most specifically the Old Gods, whom we were created to serve.”

“So the stories go,” Morningstar commented.

I shook my head at him. “No, Morn. So they state. I was one of the first to come out of Khaos, alongside Hypnos and Eros. We were given very direct instructions from Erebus himself.”

Morningstar scowled, looked away from me and flourished his hand. I sighed, and continued. “The first civilisations blossomed, inclusive of the Neanderthals, the Svek-kal, the Marshpeople - but when the Calamity came they all were wiped from existence, alongside their gods who loved them dearly.” I paused, threading my fingers together. “Few remember it, but I have recently discovered that there were prophecies before it. The Svek-kal, a tribe from what is now northern Raiaera have friezes showing them dreaming of the end of the world, being guided on how to avoid it, and then surviving it. I found they went north, and am still trying to find their descendants.” I paused, and looked at Morningstar. “I need time for a trip to Salvar soon by the way. And some for the Raiaera forest. And another one south, into Tular.”

“Char,” he snapped.

“Anyway,” I continued to my captive audience. “From their findings, and my own readings, I found they were warned of two things - fire from the sky and water from below. For those of us who remember the Great Calamity …”

“Ash,” Hemera blinked. “Lots of it. Like black rain.”

“Falling flames, and rocks,” Nyx nodded. “It destroyed buildings with one pebble-sized hailstone, that was not a hailstone.”

“Exactly,” I grunted, “and lots of violence, war because of it, anger. Possibly you hid, but truly no one had any idea what was going on because the Old Gods we served were gone …”

I breathed out and aimed the simple action of running a hand through my hair automatically in stress. I had forgotten the state I was in though, and ended up pulling on the chain. There was a fair bell sound that filled the air and I seethed as the power within my body began to protest loudly. Growling, I caused awkwardness to fill the room as I yanked hard on the chain, causing the wood to scream and begin to splinter as I forced more give.

“Charon …” Morningstar warned.

“Oh fuck off,” I scowled. “I just want more give. It's-” I broke off and gave up, adjusting my seat to deal with what I had. “Anyway. The Old Gods went, leaving the Thayne to rise up, and after them other pantheons and so on. But it seemed that people forgot about the fact that there were some cultures that had forewarning of the Calamity and acted on it. They knew what was coming and when, they knew what to do when it did. They, supposedly, survived, even as it reached through some gaps of the hells and touched Hadia.”

I nodded my head at Morningstar, “with his insistence, I have been following up on the old and the new. The new prophecies seem to be closely identical to the old, suggesting that the same thing will happen. So far I know is that a massive meteor, or comet will pass overhead, and either could fall or pass us by. What is definite to happen, however, is the world's largest super eruption that has been seen in years. 'Nyotamkia.’”

“Meaning …” Morningstar impatiently said.

“Volcano,” I replied. “And two days I figured out where it will erupt.”

His lips parted. He sat up immediately, staring. “Where?”

“Morningstar, before you go on, I need to make these journeys. They could be vital in the survival of many people.”

“Where, Char?”

I twisted away from him and focused in the centre of the table, where all waited on me with baited breath.

“Lornius,” I quietly said.

“You see why I have to keep him,” Morningstar was muttering in the corner, facing Vitus, Marlina and Grimsaine. I could hear him perfectly, and he was making only the most limited attempt to talk quietly.

“Of course, my lord,” Grimsaine replied, softly, eyes on me, “he could be what saves us all.”

“Though I still disagree with the decision I bring him into your small council, sir,” Vitus murmured, “You are correct. He is one particular being you cannot let out of your hold.”

I leant back, staring at the finely patterned, white washed and chandeliered ceiling. Still, I was attached to the thrice-damned chair, and after my exploit Morningstar had dug the chains harder in, so that there was no give at all, just the manacles and the side of the seat. With my legs up on the table I gazed upwards, breathing slowly and counting the seconds go for the time by that we had said we would be back for Selena. So far we were at an hour and fourteen minutes.

“All you said was true?” Hemera whispered.

Glancing down I saw her, fingers wrapped around a mug of tea. She was on the edge of her seat, eyes wide in her pretty features. For a moment I paused, hearing Morningstar respond to his more mortal advisors before I answered her.

“Yes, I am sorry to say I believe it is,” I nodded, “I'm not sure when still, or where the best place to go is, but I believe my research trips will allow that.”

Hemera pursed her lips, before nodding. “I'll persuade Lord Morningstar that they should,” she smiled. “Nyx and I will.”

“I want to get out of here,” I grumbled. “Get back home.”

She smiled slightly, “brother, you're smarter than all of us. You could be the single most important thing that has ever happened to any of us. We could survive an apocalypse because of you … why do you think brother is so passionate about keeping you around?”

“Because of my charming good looks and my excellent sense of humour,” I grinned.

She laughed, “I missed you, brother.”

The last time I had seen her was one my rare exploits out of the underworld of Rahl and into the mortal realms. I had seen her, Nyx and some others, at an impromptu family gathering in a secretive moment Sephora had managed to give me. I had seen Morningstar then as well, but only the back of him, before he moved away and I had had to go, back to my cruelty of a life.

“Where do you live now, on the mortal realm?” I asked.

She smiled. “Not too far away from you actually. Eluceliniel - Nyx and I share a home and manage a few operations within the city for Morningstar. We keep his favour within the court.”

My brows rose as I looked from her to Nyx. My other sister was staring into a glass of wine. When drinks had been offered I politely refused, privately deciding so on grounds that I would look like an idiot, with my hands bound as they were.

“Nyx?” I asked, “you alright?”

She glanced up. “Hmm? Oh,” she stared at me, then shook herself. “Yes, I am fine. Sorry brother.”

“You were staring into space.”

“Oh,” she paused. “I was thinking about Geras actually.”

I glanced back over to Morningstar, who was still talking, although lower now, and staring at me. My eyebrow raised at him, and he paused in his speech, before looking away.

“Geras is strong,” I commented.

Hemera nodded, agreeing. “He is indeed, he'll be fine, Nyx.”

“Do we know anything about his intended … what was her name?”

Keeping my eyes still on Morningstar's conversation, I paused. “Brigette. I …” smiling, I realised I could do something, “I can ask Selena about her.”

Hemera and Nyx began to agree, with small gasps. “Oh that would be a good idea …”

My concentration though had drifted to the other conversation. “Sir, it would be beneficial simply keeping him here, permanently,” Virus was leaning in, speaking in a low voice. “Forget the other work he does.”

“Indeed, sir. He refuses to serve, he refuses to serve. Take back his powers, control him, use him.”

My jaw tightened, heart beginning to thump hard. The magic within me, so long not in my body began to writhe, angry and violent. Swirling at my heart it hissed and growled, telling me that it would not go without a fight. I would not be a slave again.

Morningstar looked over at me with a thoughtful expression. “It is … possible.”

“Fuck this,” I hissed, and I pulled down my feet from the table, letting them land on the floor with a solid thump. I had made a deal with him - my power, and my freedom for teaching, in exchange for helping him. For saving his stupid world, and his idiotic ass.

“Brother …” Hemera said, shocked, her eyes widening.

“I'm fucking going home,” I spat, my hands twisting into fists, “before anyone else controls me. I'm not a fucking puppet and-”

My anger came in a brilliant wave. Rising from my core it responded to my intense, sudden desire it flooded my system, yelling out to me as two lovers long lost, not reunited. Indeed, it had been within me already for some weeks, and I had called onto it when calm, but now my fury summoned it instead of my will. Unexpectedly it rose, the fine black darkness from which I was born, denied to me fully for a thousand years. First, Morté had taken a little. Then, more, and finally he had used his wretches to steal every core of divinity from me until not even my strange empathy, nor my strength. I had been so weak, so invalid, and it had taken me years - years! - to learn how to cope. But now …

Now, I had more power than I had needed. Destruction indeed - unbidden, in a storm of power, it rose to my palms. BOOM! It exploded into life, small black pebbles of magical energy. My eyes widened as I said or willed nothing, and it fled right towards the source of my current anxiety - the restraints.

The sound of chairs rapidly scraping away came from beside me as the magic slid underneath them, going into a liquid state. A second passed. Then there was a SMASH as the unbreakable manacles suddenly burst into a thousand pieces.

“What the-”

I was as much aghast as the rest of them. My heart pounded as I stood there, watching the smashed pieces fall to the ground, and then begin to disintegrate as they did. Fine metal dust floated upwards as I looked down to see still rivulets of fine, black, crackling energy that looked like it opened to a good encircling my wrists - just where the manacles had been. It was blinking out of existence, its purpose spent, as all my magic did. I left out a slow breath, my lips parting, and more importantly it seems, my anger subsiding.

I reached for my magic. It came to me this time at will, bursting out my palms in energy surges. It folded and condescended from my pores, and zoomed into one small ball that landed into my right palm.

The same wrist was caught. Partly I was dragged as he yanked me away from the table, then pulled me around to face him. As shocked as I was he stared at the small, slowly rotating ball of energy at my palm, happily doing nothing.

“That should not have happened …” he murmured.

Folding my fingers around the energy I quickly yanked my hand out of his hold. The rest of the room was dead silent, I was not going to be. On his right palm, I knew, was a feature that looked like a wound. Through it he could steal people's life source, energy and magic, store it for his own use, or give it to others. It was what he had used to at first give me back my abilities. Give me back this oddity that had just struck.

“Char!” he barked.

I glared at him, “I don't know what the fuck just happened, to start. Secondly, you are not taking it from me, I've been too long without it.”

“It's never … done that before?”

I ran my tongue over my lips briefly, and then admittedly shook my head. “No. I was furious, and it just dealt with the matter at hand. Maybe you shouldn't talk so openly about going back on our deals and enslaving me again, like he did.”

“Brother-”

“No. And this time, Morningstar, I'm actually going to defend myself.” I seethed into his face. “You want me to save your multitude of little kingdoms. Fine. I will, but not as you slave. Currently I'd rather die than be what I was. Which was nothing.”

Morningstar's lips pursed as he considered me. Slowly he breathed as around us the world was frozen, a framed painting, a view of one scene of time. I kept the ball of energy in my palm, ready to literally aim it at myself. Even though I'd be awake again in six hours, and in that time he'd be able to do what he wanted, he knew he would have the most reluctant part of me than has ever been.

No more Charon used to being a prisoner. I would be cold, silent, frigid.

“Everyone leave the room,” he said quietly.

“But my lord …”

“Just do it, Vitus,” he barked. “He cannot kill me. I am far more powerful still than he.”

Of that I had no doubt. Steadily, I kept my eyes on him, and him on mine. We heard shuffling of feet, scraping of chairs. A gentle hand touched both of our arms and Hemera simply said:

“You're both my brothers.”

“So,” he said quietly.

I sucked in my breath and turned my eyes away from him. Sliding back a foot I twisted, and began to take a few slow paces away, my hand still an upturned fist.

“Charon, I cannot let you just … be around my halls as you are. These are my people I need to protect.”

“Protect them from me?!” I replied, aghast. “Morn, you certainly don't know me if you think I would hurt them.”

He paused. “Well, I was not sure of your personality anymore when I first found you again. You could have been a mass murderer waiting to happen.”

“Oh it's been tempting, believe me. You're a real dickhead.”

“And since then I have been in your company several times when you have your powers and you have never used them on me,” he was watching me carefully.

I frowned at him, and shrugged. “No. Why would I?”

“To be rid of me. To be free once more.”

“Morningstar the whole empathy thing you don't get … I don't destroy just for the sake of it. My whole purpose was to destroy only what needed to be,” I glanced at my hand still before me. “Like Morté. Damn him being here. I could have ended hiim.”

“You would have failed and pulled us into an unstoppable war,” Morningstar growled. Then he gestured at my hand. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

I was silent for a moment before I unfolded my fingers. There lay the globe of power still, small and unmoving, resting into my palm. Frowning a little at it I bent my palm upwards, watching as it stayed, even when the gradient when allow it to roll, were it anything but a ball of energy.

“Charon.”

“Anger. I was angry,” I replied, furrowing my brow as I then willed the ball to rise into the air, and it did. Then it stopped exactly when I said. I removed my hand and it hung there in the air, like a globe of black light. I looked back over to him and saw immense discomfort with his body and his face, so I plucked it from the air.

Turning around to him I folded my arms, the ball still in my clasp. “When your pet Vitus-”

“He's not a pet, and I would ask you not to call him such.”

“When the elf started speaking about taking my power away, reducing me down to nothing, taking away my job, anger built. Everything we had agreed on so far - I was furious. And my anger was directed mainly at what was frustrating me at the time - those lovely little manacles you like to have me in and …” I huffed and unfolded my arms to look at the ball again. “Apparently she has a will of her own when my emotions are high.”

“'She’?” he quoted.

“Well she has a personality now, so,” I stared at her and then looked over at a remaining cup on the great round table. It was metal, seemed to be empty. Twisting my body around to it I paused, before looking at Morningstar. “I'm just aiming for the cup.”

He narrowed his eyes but stepped back. “So your volatile emotions can now affect your power to the point that it can be outwith your control.”

“She's still within my control,” I said, knowing immediately for it to be true. I looked at the cup, and then willed the globe of dark energy to fire from my palm. No sooner had I summoned the thought that it flew out, noiseless and dark, like an arrow from a bow. It collided with the cup and there was a shattering sound as the metal exploded.

I turned back to him as the cup was utterly destroyed, hunks of metal, not burnt or metal, just broken lying on the ground. “I wanted to go home. There was something stopping me. My magic reacted to that, to my desires, because some idiots were saying that they wanted to ruin my life all over again.”

“Ruin your life?” he asked slowly.

“Take away what power I have just gained back. Take away every freedom I've worked for.”

Morningstar folded his arms. “I could still keep you here as a prisoner.”

“But as a slave? Because that's where this is going now, Morn. That is what I will be to you,” I glared at him, pointed at him. “Isn't that one of your 'core laws’. No slavery?”

His lips pursed. “It … is.”

“Yet you want me to still work for you?!” I shook my head, “you're exasperating, and a megalomaniac, only wanting power for yourself.”

“Power in the correct hands, is the term I believe I use …”

“As in, mostly yours.”

“Well someone has to oversee it.” He joked but he was still wary of me, and about what apparently I could now do. Perhaps his manacles had simply not been tough enough - but then after what had happened once in my office when I had easily snapped a chain, I was sure he would have made adjustments. It had been successful thus far.

“I do not trust you,” he said, matter of factly.

“Yet you trust what comes out of my mouth, my research. It's -” I broke off and shook my head, knowing that anything could happen now. He could kill me, still, on the spot, even with my apparent new application to my powers. That way he could see what had gone wrong, take the ability from me, throw me in that cell, cause my entire life I had built to fall apart once again.

I breathed out, looking down with confusion and loss at my hands. I had become a father today, and I had discovered something new in my powers I had never experienced before. Why now? Was it because she and I had been reconnected? Was it a development, a change instigated by Morningstar's strange ways? A mutation perhaps, that had occurred over time, or an adaptation to suit what life I now lived. Being the man who would never bow his head to anyone ever again.

“It seems we need to construct a new deal,” he said quietly.

“Right now, Morningstar,” I looked at him, “I want to go and spend time with my daughter. I've given you all the information I have so far regarding my research - the trips I told you of may bring me more.”

His lips pursed. “When are you going?”

“In two, maybe three weeks,” I shrugged. “Raiaera first. Then I might head north from there, there's a ruin of a temple, possibly connected to Jomil.”

“I might need you,” he said slowly.

“Then come get me politely,” I shrugged, staring at him. “I'll work with you, Morningstar, not for you.” Slightly I smiled, “being your farcical father in law earns me some respect.”

He watched me for a moment, then moved his hand. Out of his pocket he pulled a piece of white quartz, “this will get you home. Not back, however. I'm not giving you the location of this court.”

“Yet,” I replied.

I waited until he held it out, a smile on my lips. My brother looked at me, uncertain, for the first time in his recent existence being encouraged to construct a relationship where he could not be a dictator. One that was mutually beneficial.

When the quartz was close enough to me I reached for it, and smiled briefly to him. “You have your spies anyway around me. That Sandoran Adar for one.”

“Do I have your word you won't go making alliances with others,” he said, holding onto the tail end of the white stone. I tried to pull it from his fingers, but his hold was tight on it. “You won't tell anyone of your research.”

“I will be careful of whom I speak about it with, if that is what you mean,” I replied. “But we are talking of the literal apocalypse here.”

“Yes, and when we have enough information, I will be the one to lead an exodus to safety.”

I shrugged. “Sure. Fine. You can play god, as per the terms of our original agreement.”

“And …”

“And, I won't work with anyone else. Alright?” With that final word he allowed me to wrench the quartz finally from him and I balanced it in my hand, waiting for his final reply.

“Good,” he told me. “If I find out you did …”

“Then I'll spend eternity in your dungeon. I know,” and I curled my fingers around the stone. I poured into it my will, and I was transported away from that place.

I landed in my kitchen, to the scent of sweets and the sound of a boiling kettle. In a small flash of light I appeared, and I heard a small gasp, then saw a figure. She came to about my shoulder, and had silky, long black hair. Pale horns, similar to mine, curled back and slightly upward to the ceiling

“You're back,” she murmured.

Breath rushed out of my lungs. Shaking myself I looked around the kitchen, assessing the stove, the heavy clay sink, and the cupboards. Beyond that was my living room with its many books, the reading chair and where Morningstar had taken me. Where I had begun the short section of this chapter.

“Yes,” I grunted.

“Are you … okay?”

I paused for a moment, and took in a breath. After all she had last seen me being led away in chains.

“I'm fine. I … discovered new things. He took me to his small council, which was different.”

I looked at her, wondering if I should enlighten her about the impending apocalypse. If Morté had known nothing, then it was likely she did also. Naturally, I would protect her come what may, even if that meant never telling her what was going on. In some ways I agreed with my brother's decision to keep the truth of the apocalypse from the masses - what I was discovering, after all, was based on the Calamity, and prophecies that were loosely worded at best. Interpretation of them was a whole art in itself, an one wrong word could mean an entire city destroyed. I had to be certain to avoid mass panic, and keen before I made any rash decisions. Slowly I breathed, and I looked away, my eyes moving to the kettle as I watched it come to the full boil.

“I was wondering while you were … indisposed.”

“Mmm?” I grunted, reaching for mugs.

“Can I …” she smiled slightly. “Can I move in?”

Thread Title: How To Process Emotions When Faced With Your Worst Enemy
Type: Basic Rewards

Professor Charles receives 2100 EXP and 300 GP

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