How To Process Emotions When Faced With Your Worst Enemy

“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.