The first and rightmost was the beamish lord, his face disguised with a hawkish masquerade, and his eyes a sharp gold underneath. He wore a beard and mantle of tawny feathers. Despite his regality, the lord knitted his hands together tightly, his posture sloped and distinctly nervous.

The second and leftmost was the proud, sinewy beast. His face was much like a hound under his featureless wooden mask, but his posture was feline. All that moved were his five dark eyes.

Fenn jaw dropped when he looked to the third figure. The waifish child grinning down from the largest throne was unmistakable, a girl with a glassy pallor to her skin, garbed in a dress sewn of animal hides and a wolfish mask. Fenn had seen her once before; he was certain of that. Unfortunately, he couldn't pinpoint where. Her presence here made him uneasy (moreso than he already was), as did the lean hunger in her smirk. She was a third the height of most creatures in the room. Yet, her poise gave her the illusion of towering over all. Fenn supposed it helped that everyone else immediately sank to their knees and bowed their heads as she rose to her feet. All except he himself, of course. He swept his gaze across the prostrate masses with a sigh of confusion.

It was she who spoke first, turning towards the other two on their thrones, but the words were nonsense to Fenn’s ears. He caught strange snippets such as glaoch ni Banrion, cen pionos beidh se ag fulaingt, and ta se gan guth.

From behind Fenn, Aengus uttered an inquiry. His voice was strained.

“Is feidir leat leanuint ar aghaidh do fiach. Teigh!” the girl commanded over her shoulder. Aengus and his fellow hunter bowed respectfully and backed out of the room, leaving Fenn alone in the scrutiny of the three throned authorities.

And scrutinize they did. Even if the words were beyond him, Fenn could still get a feel for the nature of the conversation by their posture and tone. The lord was protesting yet uneasy, allowing the girl to interrupt him at every turn. She -- Morrighna? -- by far dominated the conversation. Her musical voice rose up and down in alternating currents of disgust, irritation, and excitement. It made Fenn’s skin crawl.

All he could interpret from the beast was apathy. It spoke seldom, and when it did, the girl at least bothered to stop and listen.

“Perhaps we should speak the mortal’s common tongue, for the sake of our guest,” the bird-masked one -- Ceannaire Sciathan, Fenn had gathered -- prodded gently. Feathered hands flexed and dragged along the arm of his throne, a tapping, thinking habit. “He appears confused. How shall he defend himself if he cannot understand our words?”

The boy beamed, his ears pricking up. Finally, something that made sense!

Morrighna’s toothy gaze whipped towards Sciathan. She humored him, but only just. “Chancellor,” she sighed, as she settled back into her throne, “does an intruder deserve the honor of defending itself? I know this one, as I’ve said; I have seen it in our territory before. Outsiders know better than to approach our lands. This boy-creature is a solitary Fae, a Changeling I’ll wager, with no Court to lament its absence. All consequences of its straying are upon its own head. It should have known better, unless, perhaps, it is not terribly bright in the first place.”

Fenn shot her a dirty glare and crossed his arms together.

“My Regent,” Sciathan said wearily. “Be reasonable. Does-”

“Reasonable?” She scoffed and gestured sweepingly towards the prone boy. Fenn instinctively bared his teeth in return, before covering up his kneejerk aggression with a hand slapped over his mouth. His fear brought a grin to the Regent’s face. “See? My friend, this creature holds no reason for us to discern. No son of ours, no son of man. Wordless, wild of magic. Can’t you see it in the eyes? For all we know, it is wild of head too, and has no intelligent thought to share with us. It cannot communicate, and thus it cannot defend itself.” A few titters burbled from the audience.

Alright, he’d had enough of that. Who did this girl think she was? Fenn’s hands clenched in anger, and a circle of packed earth frosted over around his feet. With quick, slashing strokes, he began to write on the ground. His writing was upside-down to his eyes (an ability of his that he was particularly proud of), directed directly at the throned Fae.

I HAVE INTELLIGENT THOUGHTS. MORE THAN YOU, MAYBE.

The room became very quiet.

Hot anger glinted in Morrighna’s grimace, if only for a moment. “Oh. It writes in the common tongue,” she observed, biting back a measured distaste.

“Still, it writes. If it can write, then it can reason,” the regal beast spoke up, much to Fenn’s wide-eyed surprise. Chulainn, the beast was. His voice was deep and penetrating. “What manner of fae are you, and what purpose do you serve? Answer us in all the detail you have to offer, and then we may judge your worth.”

Morrighna rolled her eyes, but said no more as Fenn scrawled out his reply.

FROST FAE I THINK. PURPOSE?

“Who you are affiliated with. How highly you are regarded. What you do,” Chulainn elaborated coldly.

A nervous grin snuck up on Fenn. This line of questioning made his handwriting shake in bewilderment. That, and Chulainn’s deep stare unsettled him, instilling the odd feeling that he was a criminal in need of an alibi. NOT SURE. SOMETIMES HELP TAROT. YOU KNOW THEM?

“No.” Chancellor Chulainn tipped his head to the side, a quintuple squint gleaming from behind his mask. “Why is it that you have drawn so near to our realm, outsider? Is it on the command of this Tarot?”

NO. SORRY. NEEDED TO SPEAK TO DRAGON? Fenn wrote in nervous slashes. His hands began to run away with his unsorted thoughts. EXCEPT NOT ANYMORE. WAS CURIOUS ABOUT OTHER FROST FAE. DID NOT EXPECT TO ACTUALLY MEET. GOOD, BECAUSE I NOT SURE DRAGON WOULD BE HAPPY TO SEE ME. WE HAVE QUARRELED.

Angry gasps echoed across the tent, as the crowd leaned in to read his words. Fenn stiffened, acutely aware of having said something wrong. Shit. Hands clasped over his mouth again, he belatedly considered the fact that the fae here might be on good terms with the dragon, maybe. Though, the thought that anyone would like Nippariess dully struck him as hilarious.

“As I tried to tell you, this is indeed the thorn that pricked our neighbor in the side. We wouldn’t wish to anger her by housing him, would we?” Morrighna crowed. “It was he who brought her earlier harm, and as such, I believe that…” She leaned over and whispered something to both of the other Chancellors. Their eyes widened, and neither would meet Fenn’s gaze.

Yep. He’d fucked up. The boy’s heart sank deep into the pit of his stomach.

Sciathan shook his head with a heavy sigh. “Young outsider. It pains me to say this, but I must side with our Regent. You are a foreign, unpredictable force and it would be for the best if did not take any chance with you. Please, consider our verdict an act of mercy.”

Regent Morrighna, without ever losing the delighted, childlike expression on her face, clapped her hands twice. Fenn whirled around as the two silver-armored fae guarding the door approached him. “Guards, if you would, cast this outsider into the chasm.”

Fenn’s breath caught in his throat as the crowd behind began to hoot and jabber gleefully. An act of mercy? Chasm? Oh no, he did not like the sound of this.