An Alternative Method For Gaining A Girlfriend

[Professor Charles]

contains language. Sequel to Considering The Apocalypse As A Thing Unwanted

I leant back in my large office chair, staring at the ceiling as my megalomaniac brother from ancient times paced the floor before me.

“But it's impossible Char,” he kept repeating, over and over again.

Sighing, not for the first time I lifted a hand to my temples and massaged them, beginning to feel a nauseating headache growing. I had neither wanted, nor summoned Morningstar here, but as was his apparent will now, he kept appearing in my life, now that I was back on the mortal plane and he knew of my freedoms. Not that he exactly wanted me to be entirely free. Swearing my fealty to him was always on the agenda, but after an initial incident of being abducted by this self-styled Prince, there was less of a chance of me giving in to that.

Instead, we had a deal. He had somehow bargained for my mystical, dark power from my previous subjugator - the King of Hell. I did not know what bargain he had made; in all honesty I was not interested. What I wanted was my power, and Morningstar would supply me with it, segment by segment, so long as every victory in saving the world from the impending apocalypse I attributed to him.

Which had been fine, for me. What was not fine was him turning up at my lectures, office and doorstep every second day, ready to moan about something else. Mostly it was him trying to to further persuade me to join him, or speak about his new hobby - finding the rest of our siblings. This was the fourth time, and right now he was speaking of our brother Morpheus, the primordial who was capable of aiding restless gods to sleep. He had disappeared from our lives over three thousand years prior.

“Morn, I genuinely need to work,” I muttered from under my hand. “You cannot keep showing up like this.”

He twisted around, and I caught his glare through the gaps between my fingers, where hairline cracks of light filtered through, bright in the afternoon sun that glowed through my bow window. Slowly I lowered my hand with a sigh, looking at him straight.

“I still have students, I have duties. Some of which I am barely holding onto, thanks to my extended vacation, that you forced me on.”

He shrugged slightly. “I would do so again. I might do if it benefits me.”

“Yes, well next time you plan on taking me prisoner again, please give me a forewarning,” I replied sarcastically.

Morningstar just nodded once. “I will,” he said, perfectly seriously.

“Right, great,” I rolled my eyes, knowing that he would stick to the agreement, but in his methodological way. Meaning, I could have two seconds warning before I was dragged to his court again. Rolling back my shoulders I looked down at the papers on my desk and began to lean forwards. “Anyway, I have work to do, so come back later.”

[Professor Charles]

I began to lift my hand to take up the ingenious fountain pen on the desk. Barely had I twitched it than a thin chain burst from the arm of the chair and snapped around my wrist, dragging it back down. Raising my brows I looked at him, completely not amused.

“Now is not the time. I have forty essays still to get through, each on a varying subject.”

“You should give up this occupation,” he snarled, waving his hand around the room roughly. “This life. You're a god, not a … teacher.”

I tightened my jaw, narrowing my eyes at him. Breathing in slowly I focused dark energy of the void around my wrist, letting it trickle out of my palm, directing it towards the chains there. With a push of force I caused impact, and sudden, eerily calm, bell-chimes of metal sang out as the chain was shattered. There was a sharp intake of breath as I lifted my hand and did not look back at him. Slowly I flexed my fingers, nodding once, and reached for my pen.

This time I was able to take a hold of it, without retaliation.

“We're not gods,” I responded quietly, “We never were. You just wanted to always be one. We cannot create life, we are not omnipotent.”

“We are close to gods as you get,” he spat, anger in his tone.

I shook my head slowly as I leant forwards, eyes skirting over the first pages. “No, Morn. There are those far stronger. We may have existed since the beginning of time, but we are not powerful as they are.”

“You mean you are not as powerful as I am,” Morningstar seethed. “You know I can make those chains stronger. I can make you weaker.”

I was perfectly aware. He held my power in hostage, for when I had succeeded in at least partially completing my side of our bargain. Looking over the first page I took a moment to read the first few lines. It was an essay on the student's chosen question of how the early worship of Ama’leh influenced ancient architecture. The student in question was also studying construction and according to her lecturers in that subject highly skilled in the theoretical side of the technology involved. Personally, I was highly interested in this essay and what delights it might hold, and as I read the first paragraph my heart began to race with excitement.

I could, however, feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. After I finished the short introduction I let out a groaning sigh and placed the pen down to sit back, glaring at him.

“What?”

“Why are you working? Our deal was for you to go and 'save the world’. In my name. You should have given up this stupid occupation and devoted yourself full time to-”

“What? Making you look good?” I threw an exasperated hand at him.

He looked perfectly serious and nodded sharply. “As you agreed to. I have half a mind to shove you in that cell as you suggested, it would be better use to me than watching you teach.”

“I never asked you to come here,” I replied, tersely, “I did not invite you to my lectures, nor into my office. Unfortunately, as I have a normal life now, and the need to pass as something akin to a mortal, and so I have a job. That I like. Now I am working on my research for your project, which I can show you if you really want. But for now-”

But he was standing suddenly still, and his eyes were blazing with white brightness. A smile flickered across his face, and I felt exotic desire ooze from him. His dark chocolate hair seemed to dance as he drew himself taller, and the smile extended into a grin. It was a picture that was saying far cry from the mighty warrior who had waged war against ancient deities, but it was still my power-hungry younger brother. I fancied myself one of the oldest, having stepped from Khaos long before many of them.

The reaction was clearly an affirmative. Grunting, I stood, and grabbed the satchel from by my desk. Morningstar watching with silent eagerness as I stuffed the papers into a pouch, then into the satchel. The pen I left for it was not entirely necessary as I had many the place we would now proceed to - my home. He stepped towards me as I moved from around behind the desk, as I reached for the door.

“This better be worth it, Char,” he stated. “I have other things I could be doing … you could be doing.”

“As I have made very clear,” I scowled at him, “I am not giving you fealty. Not now, not-”

And I pulled open the door.

Then stopped, stunned. Outside it a young woman was paused, wide eyes staring. By the way she was frozen solid and the way her hands dug into the strap of the back, it was clear she had been there for some time. Eyes wide and mouth parted she stared at me as I realised who she was and that there was no way to immediately understand how much she had heard.

“Miss Ayna …” I said awkwardly.

For it was one of my most familiar, high achieving students.

[Professor Charles]

“Professor …” she breathed.

It was clear by the way she spoke that she had heard rather too much. The vague story of my being a tiefling and being much younger than I actually was crumbled into dust before my eyes. Slightly, I grimaced, immediately blaming Morningstar in my mind because it was the easy thing to do, and then understood it had been nobody's fault. I was smarter than to act upon my instincts.

What needed to be done was figure out how much precisely she had learnt. I began to step forwards, to invite her into the office, when Morningstar reacted. Curling a hand around my shoulder he pulled be back sharply, casting me back into the room. Rolling my eyes I began to protest, but he was already there, right before Ayna, glaring at her.

“You're a student of his, clearly,” he snarled at the drow.

Ayna swallowed, and I saw her eyes take in Morningstar with hesitation. Of course, she had seen him before, at the back of my lectures, and even dared to call him 'handsome’ once, but this time was different. Now, he was full of fury and power, skin beginning to blossom crimson as if splattered by blood.

Grabbing her shoulder suddenly he yanked her into the room.

“Morn-” I began but he held up a hand to me. Cutting off, I sighed as Ayna was forced between myself and Morningstar, her body stiff in a mixture of shock and uncertainty.

“Professor …” she repeated, mumbling to me, her silver eyes filled with anxiety.

Morningstar slammed the door behind all of us, before he stalked towards Ayna. “How much did you hear?” He asked her, anger in every phoneme.

Ayna just stared at him, wide eyed.

“How much?!” he demanded, smacking a hand down on my desk. It shuddered, violently. I placed my head in my hand, sighing.

The young drow whimpered. “Enough,” she mumbled.

Morningstar curled his lip. As silence fell I lifted the hand from my face, watching as he slowly took a step towards her, ridding the space between them in an instant. The look in his eyes was maddening, as if hellfire had taken up residence in his soul. Hands came up, reached for her …

“Stop,” I said quickly, and quietly.

He stilled in place, rearing above her shivering, thin form. Slowly his eyes shifted, his face twisting in an arc to swing over and glare at me. Pausing at the corner of the desk I was merely a splinter in relation to his vast forest of power, yet I was still his brother, and he had listened to me for the past weeks.

[Professor Charles]

Back at him I stared, impassively, my chest rising and falling as I breathed. “Stop, she's … Ayna, step away from him.”

But the girl did not move. In fact looking back now I realised she could not move, likely out of fear mostly. Morningstar, however, did lower his hands, face curling into a snarl. “Charon."

A sharp intake of breath came from Ayna. Calmly, I looked at her, bringing a smile to my face. “Ayna, please ignore my brother. I think you should tell us what you heard, take your time with it.”

The young drow swallowed hard, her eyes flickering back over to the fearsome form of my brother. She shivered slightly beneath his raw prowess, then ducked her head before she took in a breath and looked back to me.

“You're … you're not tieflings,” she sighed.

I paused, frowning a little. The sigh was odd - not what I had been expecting in the slightest. It was full of disappointment instead; raw and unbidden. Blinking twice I folded my arms across my chest.

She noticed then, the tone in her voice. Gasping lightly she raised her hands before her and shook them. “Ah, s-sorry professor. I meant that, tieflings are fascinating, you're - their culture. Everything. I thought …”

Morningstar burst into laughter suddenly. Throwing him a dark look I scowled as he spluttered.

“She - she was interested in you, not your tedious waste of a subject.”

“It's not a waste,” I muttered.

Ayna suddenly came to my aid, “oh, no sir, I am still wanting to learn.”

“But you forced yourself to gain interest just to get closer to him?” My brother was being horribly cruel.

She stopped, her coal black skin, if it was possible, going pale. Slightly, she bit her lip. “I …”

Morningstar grinned, then he looked right to me. “Well. There's no point in you staying here, anymore, brother. We should be going.”

“One student not being truly invested in what I teach is no reason to leave, Morningstar,” I snapped. Though my heart burned in my chest, aching with discouragement. Ayna had only wanted what she thought I was, the supposed lifestyle and behaviours. Not what wisdom I could bestow. My pride in inspiring the next generation had diminished to some significant degree.

Twisting away from her I looked to Morningstar. “Get rid of her memories, if you want,” I said darkly, “I am heading back to my home.”

There was a mumble behind me. “I didn't say I did not care for the subject.”

I raised my brows but kept my back to her. There was a pause.

“What did you hear exactly?” Morningstar said in a bold voice: now he was being the reasonable one.

She pulled in her breath. I was hesitant to care as she had already hardened my heart with the admittance of not being enthusiastic about the subject purely because it was what it was; wondrous. Nay, instead she had to like tiefling me, fancy my fake species.

“I … that you are not tieflings, but rather some beings from the beginning of time. That you are saving the world. That he … you want him in a cell?!”

My jaw tightened slightly. Silence reigned for a moment before Morningstar replied.

“Well. I do not want him there. I'd rather have him working for me. As for saving the world …” he growled, “that's his desire. Mine is … different.”

[Professor Charles]

“Oh,” was her reply. Then in a whisper she added, “so - what are you?”

“The term is 'primordial’ drow-girl. Beings whom that thing,” I could almost physically feel the jab of air as he gestured towards me, “believes were born to serve gods.”

“We were,” I finally answered, turning around to fix him a stare, “that was the purpose, as described to me by Erebus.”

“Erebus, sir?” Ayna breathed.

Morningstar rolled his eyes and waved a dismissive hand at her. “One of the old gods. Shush now.” He concentrated back to me. “Erebus actually said that?”

I nodded, “I've told you that before, Morn.”

“Bah,” he said, “now, do we keep her or rid of her?”

I frowned. “Keep?” I said at the same time as Ayna.

Morningstar paused a little, then looked past me to her. Eyes slowly blinked, before he took a small step forwards and he tilted his head as he gazed at Ayna. Twisting around again I also looked at her.

“Yes, keep you,” he grinned, showing his sharpened canines, pure white in his crimson-flecked skin. “You want to keep your memories, then … you do errands for me.”

I was stunned in that moment. Apparently nothing was too much for this man. Not only did he want me, but also my students. My lips parted and I took a small step forwards to speak, watching the listlessness on Ayna’s face and the disbelief in her eyes - but Morningstar shot up a hand to halt me in my step.

“Well?” He asked, sharply.

“I have had my mind messed with before,” Ayna whispered. “I don't - don't want that happening again.” And she wrung her hands on the strap of her satchel. “But you cannot force me to do anything.”

“Tell me true,” Morningstar lifted a finger and jabbed it at me. “How much do you care for him now?”

Care for me? Bah. That was not so. I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath about the old stereotype of unrequited love between student and professor. It was an age old tale, and one broken in reality by my not being a tiefling. Now I was dull in her eyes.

“I …” she mumbled.

Morningstar stared hard at her. I prepared myself for the absolute rejection. It would be damaging to my psyche, but I would bare it as I had. Many terrible things had happened to me in the many hundreds of years I had exited.

“Well? I can tell when you are lying.”

I was not sure if he could or not, but with his ability to take powers, it was perfectly possible.

Suddenly she looked down at the ground, cheeks blazing a scarlet grey - an odd thing on a drow. Then I paused, realising what her reaction meant. My jaw fell. I was staring, unsure of what was being communicated here, because I was in utter shock. She still … despite knowing I was not a tiefling, she still liked me. And possibly more, from the way she was glaring at the ground.

Suddenly Morningside burst into laughter. My eyes swung over to him, wishing him out of my sight as I had every day thus far. Scowling deeply I hissed at him, as he spoke again.

“This is your test of loyalty, then. Go to Charon’s house, find whatever papers and items he has for my project. Then bring it back … to my court.”

“Your court?”

“Yes, my court,” he nodded. “This …” he fumbled for a moment at his beeches, before pulling out a small stone, “will get you there.”

She swallowed tight as he held it out to her. Slowly her fingers curled around it. “Okay.”

I glanced at Morningstar, narrowing my eyes a little. I had been going to take him to my home myself. This was a twist in plans.

[Professor Charles]

“Charon will tell you where to look.”

“He will not be coming with me?” She asked, horrified.

My eyes narrowed on my brother. He grinned. “Of course not. You need some persuasion. And the amount that you care for him … clearly. Oh yes brother, a warning.”

I frowned, confused. What was he -

Morningstar waved a hand. From the air a heavy set of manacles appeared - heavier than the ones I had worn before. A sharp intake of breath came from me and I scuttled backwards, loosening my arms. They followed me however, darting straight for my wrists. Grabbing the side of the desk I attempted to flip over, gaining away from them, before Morningstar clicked his fingers.

The manacles vanished from the air - then directly appeared on my wrists. Barely had I time to hear the click of metal as they settled. My hands were cursed, the manacles moving them like I had no will upon my own hand, and clashed together sharply. My heart began to race, and I hissed darkly, as chains sprouted from the ends of the manacles and fled forwards, towards Morningstar.

Easily, he plucked them from the air. I felt a guilt descended on my shoulders as I was dragged forwards to his side. I stumbled off the desk, irritated at myself for even daring to fight in that moment. I attempted to rip my hands free, but there was a clear sign he had used stronger chains this time. As he had promised.

“Fuck you, Morn,” I cursed, as I struggled against them, leaning as far as I could away from him.

He barely showed any emotion as he curled the chain tighter around his hand. Ayna by now was backed up against the wall, her eyes blazing with wide fear.

“This will be your persuasion,” he said in a bored voice. “You were concerned about him being in a cell … well, there he will rot until you bring me what I want. You do not tell anyone about this, you do not even show any pause for concern. Understand?”

Ayna trembled. Her lips parted and she let out a small whimper as she switched her gaze to me.

I hissed, not liking this one bit. Taking me prisoner was fine - I had dealt with the situation all my millennia, but not as a hostage. Not to manipulate my students. At that thought I stilled.

“My work,” I realised, “if I take anymore undeclared leave-”

“Well write a letter that you need time off, then,” Morningstar rolled his eyes, gesturing to my desk.

I stared at him, my struggling now ceased and more confused at his moment of strange kindness.

“The girl here can hand it in. And while you are at it, scribe where she can find your … project for me.”

Looking over to Ayna, I could see the utter fear in her eyes. My chest rose and fell unsteadily as I tried to take a step towards her.

“No,” Morningstar grabbed me by the upper arm and shoved me hard against the desk. “Write, not flirt.”

It hit my abdomen. Cringing, I felt pain explode, and bit back a yell. Morningstar reached past me and shoved a pen into my hand, then twisted a blank sheet around to face me.

“You do not know how long you need away,” Morningstar instructed. Very quickly I invented a death in the family. Something I was currently wishing for. If only …

“Char, just write,” he sighed. Grabbing my bound hands he twisted them to set the nib to paper. I glared at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

“You're a dick,” I muttered to him.

“Yes I am,” he replied. “Now. Write.”

[Professor Charles]

Silence reigned as I scribed awkwardly, not able to see the whole page due to my bound hands. My eyes kept slipping towards Ayna who knew so little of the world she had stumbled into. All she could hear was the the chains chimed like a bell as I wrote, the same I was familiar with. It took me longer to write them I was used.

As I finished, Morningstar leant over my back, and with a quick swipe pulled the completed letter from me. He read it over as I paused before beginning on the second, giving a sideways glance to Ayna. Now she had gained some of her strength and will and was standing there with fists clenched, glaring at Morningstar.

“How long do I have?” she whispered.

“As long as you wish,” Morningstar shrugged as I moved onto the instructions for where to find the project I had been working on, and what to expect when there. “But the longer you take, the more he suffers. And if you never come to me … well,” he slammed a hand onto my shoulder and squeezed it hard, so I winced. And smiled, “whatever my agreements with him, he's mine for eternity.”

“You're an arsehole,” I muttered, but I continued to write. Faster.

“Yes you are,” Ayna echoed my words, “you're cruel. How can you do this to your own brother?”

“Well he has spent the last four or five millennia being bonded to the King of Death,” Morningstar mused. “This isn't the worst. I'm much kinder.”

It was not a question, but a statement. And that was because I was a fact I had to admit. Mad as if might be Morningstar was far nicer. The King of Death would have made her swear allegiance to him already, possibly made her kill. But all things according to what they are, he was still an arse.

I found as I wrote my anger and frustration died somewhat. This was just another moment of my being a captive in my life. I would figure out the way to freedom within time, even if Ayna never came. Rolling back my shoulders I finished writing, my heart less frantic, and I let out a sigh. No sooner had my hands lifted from the page and thrown the pen aside than Morningstar pulled the paper from underneath my hands. Briefly he scanned it before holding it out to Ayna.

She did not move, only glared at him, anger now residing more than anything. Fear was gone by this point, the initial worries cast aside by fury as she and I did what Morningstar bid.

“Take it!” He waved it at her. “Or I torture him too.”

Slightly, I rolled my eyes, knowing it was not the likeliest outcome. Torturing me and therefore rendering whatever part of me useless was not a method Morningstar often used.

“He won't,” I said quietly to her. “I'll be fine.”

“Bah, you'll be locked in a cell. That is hardly fine.”

Ayna breathed slowly, eyes on me, but reached to take the paper with dark, elegant fingers. Her eyes drifted from my manacled hands, to the chain in Morningstar's hand, then to me. Encouragingly I gave her a small nod, forgetting all the possibilities of her attraction to me. At least for now. Right in this moment I needed to be the comforting teacher. A peer. An adult to reassure her all was going to be well.

“I'll be fine,” I told her with honesty.

“Ugh,” Morningstar grinned and pulled me closer towards him. “We will see you soon, remember do not tell anyone.”

He poked a finger at her. She nodded fast. It took him a moment to be satisfied before he switched his focus elsewhere. He wound a loop of chain around his hand, further bringing my wrists to his hold. Again he wound, until he was a few inches away from me.

“Have you finished your struggles?” He asked me.

I flatly stared at him, not moving. He smiled, and he waved a hand in the air. I gave one last nod to Ayna before the world began to fade around us.

[Professor Charles]

We landed into a long, well lit corridor, the walls a light grey stone. It was wide, though without windows. It could have been any basement corridor for all I knew - drab, simple, leading to a kitchen - aside from the issue that the only doors that led from it were iron bound wooden things, with a large barred window around head height. Being tall I had to duck down to peer through one, and saw a boring, bare room with no furniture and a single lamp set into a nook in a wall.

Morningstar tugged the chains, and the chiming bell sound filled the air. I glanced over to him and he gestured further down the corridor.

“I hardly use these,” he muttered, “So there are not many well furnished.”

“'Well furnished’?” I quoted. “Are you running a hotel now?”

“Hilarious,” he said dryly. “But this is necessary to make the girl silent.”

“You could have taken her memories of the few minutes she was there,” I replied, moving faster as he began to.

“No, she will be more useful to me aware, and with her feelings towards you …” he shrugged as he came to a sanded, newer looking door with an eerie sheen to the metal. “Well, you are terribly easy to take prisoner, with your lack of fighting.”

I shrugged slightly. I was pathetic in that realm. But in all my years of fighting I knew that physically struggling against bonds and people who had more power than you was useless. It was better to use wise words and quick wit to gain your station in life.

“Hmm,” he hummed, and waved a hand. The door to the room he was currently inspecting flew open. It revealed a small chamber, with a low metal-framed bed, a mass of blankets and a small un-doored chamber around the back. Peering to the side I caught the glimpse of a wooden lavatory seat.

“In you go,” he gestured, smiling at me pleasantly.

He dropped the end of the chains. As he did it melted away, sprinkling into a fine golden powder that rose upwards until it was nothing with the brilliant light of the lamps. The disintegration extended to my hands, where I felt a light, tingling sensation and the manacles too became nothing more than dust.

I rose my brows at it, marvelling at the spectacle as I gingerly touched my wrists.

A loud sigh behind me. “Char ...”

A hand shot past my face and pointed, irritated, into the cell. Realising what he meant I began to move, easing past him into the small but livable space. Helpfully he gave me a guiding push to finish my journey.

Unsurprisingly the door slammed closed behind me as I stumbled to my balance. There was the sound of a bolt being drawn and then a padlock being secured. As the click of the latter sounded there was a light brightness. The walls seemed to spring into life as a glittering shimmered over them, a wave of shimmer and shine. It covered the ceiling and floor, even edging around the corner, and when it fled towards me I jumped out of instinct.

“It is a simple barrier spell,” the voice from the door said. Twisting around I saw the handsome face of my brother, all proud with his huge horns twisting away from his head and leaning against the door. “Means you cannot escape using magic.”

“Ah,” I looked at him once before I looked around at my surroundings. The bed looked comfortable enough, but there was very little else entertainment wise. “Any chance of books?”

He paused, then replied. “You are a hostage, not a guest.”

I continued. “There were books in my office. One entitled, 'Lore of Old Dheathain’. It has some interesting stories about what the Calamity was.”

Morningstar rose his brows, and looked impressed. “Fine. You can have that one.”

“And the notes lying on top of it, please,” I went on, “And there are three on cultures who had prophecy at the heart of their societies. They will be useful.”

“Where are they?” he scowled.

“At the office also. Under the desk in a small leather saddlebag.”

“Fine,” he shoved a finger at me through the bars. “But no more, Char.”

Shrugging, I sat back on the bed, keeping my eyes steady on him. “You want me to be useful whilst I am here, brother? Then get me those books.”

He hissed angrily at me, then twisted away, saying, “if she never comes to me, you are staying there forever.”

“I know you. You'll get bored. You'll let me out sometime,” I lifted up my legs, swinging myself into the bed. It was not the most comfortable thing, but it would do. Carefully, I laid back, swinging my hands behind my head.

“Possibly,” he muttered, and I grinned.

He wouldn't last a month.

[Professor Charles]

Within a few hours I had my books. I also managed to persuade him to allow a small desk and a chair into the cell. It required me to be chained to the wall for a time as two of his awkward servants moved the new furniture in, but it was a small price to pay. When they moved out and the glittering spell returned I was able to sit down and do what I loved most: research.

For a while he observed me through the grill as I opened the 'Lore of Dheathain’. Picking up a fine wooden pen with a steel nib I began to read, starting from where I had first left off.

It was a section about a legend of a priestess, one who had a great love but could not be with for reasons that he himself was a eunuch, pledged to the god Valhalla. There was no other mention of that god in any literature as far as I knew, and I had never heard of him. Thus, this story had become something of an education to me - a man who thrived upon knowing all the tales.

Being in the hells for thousands of years had not allowed me to gather much worldly experience. But as I had been the bearer of a wide assortment souls from one side of the River of Death to the other, I had come to know many things. Conversation was something I had never lacked skill in. Thus, I had learnt about the world and the wars and countries and development of the races. I had come to know cities from architects, gods from priests, battles from generals and dragons from magizoologists. And in all those years I had done nothing but want to learn.

And now I taught. I poured over the story of the priestess and the eunuch, taking down notes of every mention of Valhalla I could. He seemed to be involved with some form of afterlife, or was the afterlife itself. Warriors who died in battle and/or violence got to it automatically, others had to earn their way. What was intriguing, though, were the references to certain deaths, that the eunuch kept quoting: “Baron Kss’Vet himself, who passed by the great light falling from the sky”. I knew from having seen part of the Great Calamity myself that there had been a series of meteors falling from the sky, that had burnt up in the atmosphere, and thus looked bright.

A sigh of satisfaction fled my mouth as I leant back, scrawling the 'fukatmaki’ into my notes.

“What is it?”

Swinging my head around I spied him there, in the window. Pausing, I slid a ribbon to mark the place in my book before I replied.

“You are still there?”

“Clearly,” he had his arms folded across his chest from what I could see, and he leant against the doorway. “Now, what is it?”

Crossing my own arms I turned to him, twisting around in the chair. I moved a leg, swinging it up and over the back so that I was straddling the back rest and could lean upon it. A smile played upon my lips.

“Futakmaki,” I said, simply.

Immediately he frowned. “What, or who, or why, is a fu-futaku-fuk- what?”

“Futakmaki,” I replied. “You could say it means 'fire from above’ or 'heat from the heavens’ or 'rock falling’. It could mean many things according to what language you claim as the source.”

“But what is it, Char?”

“A comet,” I finally admitted. “Or several. Not sure.”

He blinked, confused for a moment. “You mean there's a … comet coming?”

“A comet came. What do you remember from the the Great Calamity?”

He frowned. “Fire. Falling like rain. A river of ash. A great wave that drowned the village I ruled.”

I nodded, “as do I. Especially the ash and fire. So a comet crashing into the earth makes entire sense.”

“Wait,” he spun to face me, his face taking up the entire space in the grill, brows furrowed deeply. “Are you saying that you believe another comet is coming?”

“Something like that,” I nodded. “Possibly worse.”

He paused, and looked away. “I will ask astronomers. Good,” he straightened. “Continue your … studies. I will have someone bring down food.”

“Glad you aren't allowing me to starve to death,” I replied, dryly.

“No, you are currently too valuable to have you in pain,” he shook his head, eyes looking elsewhere. “Or be dying. To wait the six hours for you to come back to life,” he curled his lip in distaste. “Carry on,” and he waved a hand at me before leaning away. I watched as he drew away from the door and disappeared from sight, striding down the corridor.

The sound of his footsteps rang in my ears for hours.

[Professor Charles]

There was a light knock on the door. Sitting up from where I lay back on the bed I frowned. I was literally locked in a cell. Why would someone knock? Blinking in confusion I looked at the door and saw a young woman smiling awkwardly at me. When she saw I was looking at her she raised a hand, and awkwardly waved. I waved back.

“Mr De'Erebus,” she said, “your meal.”

I paused, and pulled my legs around to place my feet on the floor. Nodding a little I began to stand. “Are you coming in or is this a ‘secret hatch’ experience?”

The woman giggled a little. As I looked at her closer I realised I vaguely recognised her from my first excursion to Morningstar’s court. She had been at the edge of his grand throne hall, carrying laundry at the time. By the sight of her she was a mere human being, and could not be older than twenty five. I wondered how a remarkably pretty female like her came to work for a primordial like Morningstar.

“I can come in,” she replied with delight in her tone, “but as I open the door and close it again … if you stay where you are, towards the back …”

Laughing lightly I moved backwards, amused at both this girl’s attitude and my brother’s apparent relaxing of the rules. With a spirit of generosity burning within me, and the knowledge that chance of escape was fairly limited with not knowing much of what lay beyond the corridor outside, I cupped my hands before me and moved to lean against the back wall. When I was steady the woman quickly began to unlock the door with a flurry of her fingers. She twisted her head to speak - which told me there was a guard or other being accompanying her - and then pushed open the door. No sooner was she in, baring a tray of steaming food in one hand, than did she close the door behind her.

“That is me,” she called lightly.

I heard a grunt, and the slim partial appearance of a tall individual. The grating of metal told me the door was locked behind her. Still and patient, I waited.

She spun back around, a great smile on her face. She was a beauty, with long, black straight hair, and an olive-skinned complexion. Her dark hazel eyes were full of exotic patterns, and she wore a simple grey work-dress, with bare feet. Despite its plainess it fitted her well, tailored to suit her curves and endearments.

“I am Regina,” she said warmly, “I work for Lord Morningstar.”

“And I am Charles,” I replied in kind, staying where I was. “His brother.”

“Yes,” Regina nodded, “I remember when you visited us before.”

“And here I am again,” I mockingly gestured before me as I inclined my head. Regina chuckled as she moved to place the tray on my desk. Intrigued by her I watched her, liking both her lighthearted nature, despite where she was and who she worked for, and the pleasant tone of voice.

After she had placed down my meal she twisted back around to me. “So.”

“So,” I said, “do you entertain many of my other siblings here?”

She paused, “some. Some have been … guests, like yourself, yet more reluctant. There are some who are pledged to his service.”

“And then there is me,” I slid my fingers back in line with one another, clasping.

“Yes, he has spoken of you much through the years I have worked for him. I believe you are one of his favourites.”

“Oh how lucky of me,” I sarcastically replied.

Regina’s smile reached her eyes. “The girl, he is holding you hostage for, is she your girlfriend?”

Surprised at the sudden personal nature of the question, I shook my head. “Ayna? No. No, she is a student of mine. I am a lecturer at a university - a professor.”

“Ah, I see,” she nodded a couple of times. For a moment she paused. “But she likes you?”

“A relationship between such is inappropriate,” I explained. “And though she is smart, she is naive. It would not be a healthy one.”

“Master Morningstar said something about her just liking ‘your fake race’ or something similarly.”

I cringed. It was true enough.

“Was that not right to say?” Regina looked apologetic, hand at her mouth in shock and tooth biting her lip gently.

“No,” I waved a hand, “it was fine.”

“As long as you are sure, sir.”

“Honestly,” I answered, “call me Charles. Everyone does. I'm not a great lord.”

“You are a favourable brother of the man I work for,” she shrugged a little, “the honorific can be inferred.”

“'Favourable’?” I questioned, raising my brow. “That's the word he used? 'Favourable’ despite having a desire to kidnap me every few days?”

“You are here because you do not agree to swear your fealty to him, yes?” her smile was brilliant.

I titled my head to one side, and nodded once. “Indeed, I am done owing my allegiance to someone. It's never happening again.”

She gestured at the room, “well. This is your punishment for refusing that. Some of the other employees would say you should die because you refused the offer. They call it an 'honour’.”

My punishment? Well, that was certainly something. It also made me more certain that Regina was here because she wanted to be; not indentured like I had supposed many of Morningstar's staff to be. Whether she saw him as a god in flesh, or simply as a man who upheld her virtues was a complex question in itself, with a myriad of answers. By the way she spoke of the other employees here, this seemed to be the norm of thinking, and it made me wonder:

“So how did exactly a young human like yourself come to work for a Primordial?”

Regina straightened, her some faded a little, and she gestured to my meal. “Your food is getting cold, sir.”

Concern came to me. Had I upset her? Immediately I frowned. “I apologise if I-”

“Oh no, but the story is long. You may want to eat whilst I tell it.”