The twin doors to the courtroom heaved with a protesting groan before banging open. A strong voice silenced the chattering crowd.

“Hold the proceedings!”

Fenn gawped at the intruder. A scaled woman with two azure serpents for heads stood in the open doorway, eyes gleaming indignantly. When she spoke, there was a faint echo, for she did so with two voices of the same mind. Both scowling heads bore masks that glowed like moonlight. Feathers dripped from the crevices between their scales, a black-silver mane that fell all the way to her thighs. She bustled down the aisle with purpose. The audience dipped their head in respect, and the guards heading for Fenn stopped where they were.

“Good evening to you, Morrighna, Sciathan, Chulainn. If you would be so kind, I would much love to be graced with an explanation for this fuss you called into session,” the newcomer said tersely.

“Welcome, Banrion, darling. I did not expect you to join us tonight,” Regent Morrighna replied in grand return, her smile souring slightly.

Fenn squeaked fearfully and scooted aside as the serpent lady sauntered through to face the Regent. From the second their eyes met, it was clear to him that Morrighna and this “Banrion” were not on loving terms with each other. Both gave off an air of cutting condescension that made the boy shrink away and wonder if ducking beneath a chair was the wisest course of action.

“Of course not,” Banrion replied. Each of her heads gave off a rolling sigh. “I suppose it was too much trouble to rouse me from my chambers, my Regent? There was no need to keep my throne empty. You know I sleep lightly.”

“Indeed! Which was why it would have been such a shame to wake you. You sleep little enough as it is,” Morrighna said with a sweet, dismissive flutter of her hand. From beneath her courtesy bled a deep-seated distaste, as if she would much rather have at it with naked blade than blunted words.

Banrion seemed to roll her slitted eyes, all four of them, from under the silver shadows of her masks. “Next time, I request you to spare me the pity. Now, what is it that has caused you to call for highest judgement? It must be important.”

Fenn jolted and drew back as the Regent swung an accusing finger in his direction. Gleeful malice swirled in her silver irises. He still wasn't sure what he had done to earn that malice, and his heart plummeted all over every time she turned to look at him. “The Wild Hunt of the Frostbitten Court found this unwanted guest wandering too near to our lands,” Morrighna explained. “Worse still, this is not his first time straying near to us. This is the same changeling I kindly ignored after he wandered near us but a year ago, disturbing our poor neighbor. I called a session so that we may discuss his fate. Until you came in to complicate matters, we decided to find him guilty of trespass, with no redeeming qualities that might allow us to turn a blind eye to his wrongdoing. Do you oppose our decision?”

Disbelievingly, Banrion around swiveled to stare at Fenn. Her heads drew back in stark surprise as she took in the small, blonde child curled up on the floor. He quivered as the Chancellor’s garnet gaze flicked from his gaunt frame, to his pointed ears, to eventually meet his liquid eyes.

The hackles of her mane rose furiously. “We called a meeting of the court for this?” she hissed.

Seeing the boy flinch at the rise of her tone, the reptilian Chancellor cleared her throat and took on a softer voice. “This boy should a matter of insignificance, barely a footnote to us. Why, he is hardly more than a wee pigwidgeon. What good shall it do us to do away with him? Regent Morrighna, you do not fear a cowering child smaller than even yourself, surely?”

The Regent flinched; it was nearly imperceptible, but it was there. “Of course I do not. But we have rules.” A flicker of boredom snuck its way onto her face. “Besides… We haven't condemned anyone in years. A bit of excitement would do us no harm.”

“No harm…” the serpented Chancellor muttered darkly to herself. She began to pace slowly before the thrones. One could almost see the gears turn in her head. “My Regent, it may be hasty to deem this outsider a lost cause. A glance will tell you that he is but a child. I would be shocked if he were any older than an ignorant half-century. Indeed, he did not understand his error in encroaching upon our lands, but is that enough to declare him utterly unable to understand our ways? It would be unfair to treat him in the same manner that we might one who has fledged into adulthood. Can we not say that there may be hope for him yet, if he were to be nudged in the right direction?”

The crowd murmured, a menagerie of chittering, hissing, and giggles. Those closest to the thrones leaned in eagerly, masks glittering in the light.

“He earned the wrath of our neighbor,” the Regent declared coldly.

“Bats that flutter too close earn the wrath of our neighbor,” Banrion exclaimed with a scoff. “As if she could even leave her cave to express her anger -- as if her yeti would even bother to tell her of the boy’s presence! If our sparing him gives her reason to outrage, then let me parley with the lizard myself! Divinity knows, it cannot be more wearisome than this banter with you, my Regent.”

The eyes of the other two Chancellors turned to Morrighna expectantly. Chulainn shook his head and brayed laughingly. “Her point is well-spoken,” he noted.

The Regent winced reluctantly and tapped the arm of her throne in deep thought. Her discomfort felt like a very good sign to Fenn, who daring with bated breath to hope that this was swinging in his favor. “Oh, very well then. You dance too close with my patience, Chancellor, but I suppose your counter is… intriguing. What do you suggest us to do with the child if we aren’t to punish him?”

All eyes turned back to Fenn again. He stood perfectly still, frightful of the callous judgement raking him head to toe.

“I suppose someone shall have to teach him how one acts within our society,” Banrion murmured into the breathless silence. Her frigid glare turned to the Regent. “Someone will have to civilize him. As for who, well, I know whom you would likely put up to the task. Before you sound the suggestion, I volunteer myself to take him under my wing; you were planning to put him under my care anyway, were you not?”

Morrighna nodded, folding her hands under her chin. “Of course. You made the suggestion, you bear the burden. But, I won’t allow him to remain in Sidhe. He is still flawed, I will tell you that much. Changelings are cast out for a reason. Perhaps I will allow him to visit from time to time, but we will not accept him as one of our own. If all our opinions are united, this council’s session may be closed.”

Chancellors Sciathan and Chulainn murmured an agreement.

Fenn halfway grinned in relief and flopped onto the earthen floor, his heart still beating quick with fright. Meanwhile, Banrion sank to her knees in a deep bow of appreciation. “Your word is law, my Regent, but I have one more caveat to ask of you; may I have the eve to observe this outsider before he leaves?”

“Oh, I suppose, you can. You asked nicely enough.” With a magnanimous nod to her Chancellor, Morrighna clapped her hands twice. The guards that had once hovered so close to Fenn relaxed and headed back down the aisle. “This session is concluded!”