Although the trio felt as though they were left with more questions following this encounter than they’d had going into it, they knew better than to call Locque out on her vagueness, and could do nothing but accept the conclusion of this arranged meeting. Of all of them, Teselin appeared to be taking it the hardest, despite that she said very little as they climbed back atop their horses and retracted their tracks back to the palace late that night. The young summoner’s body was as tense as a ramrod as she sat in front of Hadwin on their horse, and said nothing for the duration of their trip home. Only once they were fairly sure they were safe and far away from Locque’s eyes and ears (although they could never be entirely certain…) did Elespeth speak up to express every sentiment that reflected on her worried features.
“She’s as remorseless as I imagined. None of this feels wrong to her. Not the killing, the mind-control… everything that everyone in this kingdom has lost as a result of her tyranny means nothing to her.” The former knight practically seethed anger out of her ears. “I don’t know what the hell I expected. Maybe some convoluted reasoning, but… no. She just doesn’t care. She’s too assured in her own ways to budge or to take in any insight. In no way does she belong on Lilica’s throne… but unfortunately I don’t see a way of stopping that if it means avoiding further casualties. But all that aside… Teselin.” Elespeth placed a hand on the young summoner’s arm. The girl hardly responded or seemed to realize that she was being touched, let alone that anyone was speaking to her. “You can’t let her get into your head. And I don’t mean mind control--don’t take her words as anything but the surface value that they scrape. You’re not her, and your circumstances are different. That witch, one way or another, is going to go down… but you don’t have to go with her. Don’t forget or let go of your agency.”
Removing her hand, the Rigas woman exchanged a glance with Hadwin, before offering the obvious comment, “I’ll leave this in your hands. You’ve got your work cut out for you.” There was no need to explain: it was excruciatingly obvious that the faoladh was one of the only people who could truly get through to Teselin during those times when she shut everyone else out, either intentionally or inadvertently. Elespeth said no more before the three of them parted ways to their respective chambers. Shuffling out of her boots and hanging up her winter cloak, the summoner took a seat upon her bed, but made neither a move to stoke the fire, or to climb under the covers in hopes of getting a little bit of sleep. It also wasn’t clear whether she was listening or taking in any of Hadwin’s words, as he delved a little deeper into his own darkness. Contrary to Elespeth’s advice, she might have let Locque get into her head; but so, too, had Hadwin allowed his sister to get into his head. Teselin hadn’t missed the way the younger faoladh had bristled and gone tense when she had spoken up: the girl hated her. Of course, the summoner understood why, on a multitude of levels, but frankly, what Rowen Kavanagh thought of her or how she made her feel threatened was the last thing on Teselin’s mind. It was difficult to discern exactly what was going through her mind until she spoke up, moments after silence elapsed following Hadwin’s pep talk.
“I don’t think she was lying.” She said at first, her dark eyes blankly fixed on the wall, and swimming with more demons than anyone could count. “She wasn’t trying to get into my head… I didn’t sense any dishonesty from Locque. What she said, about herself, about me… as far as she feels, it is the truth. We are alike. We are both summoners, and our beginnings… perhaps they really weren’t all that different.” When she finally pulled her gaze away from the wall, and met Hadwin’s eyes, she sought reassurance that she wasn’t sure she would find. “She never intended to take this path… her path of everyone else’s destruction. That was never her plan. She tried to find her way out of a number of awful situations, but ultimately… she had no control over what happened to her. Or how it changed her. But Rowen… I think Rowen was wrong. About me. About my downfall.”
Teselin shifted on her bed, but only slightly. Enough that her shoulders drooped, as well as her eyes, in what appeared to be sad defeat. “She said that you would be my downfall. That all of this is happening, all of these awful things inciting my magic to be destructive, because of you. But… that’s not the case. My magic has always destroyed. It tormented me when I was a child. It ruined lives before I even knew any of you in Stella D’Mare. And I know that you blame yourself for what happened in Apelrade, but… it could have been anyone. I didn’t want you to die, but if it had been Bronwyn, Elespeth, Alster… had it been any of us, I think it would have ended the same. I don’t like death; I don’t like to see people get hurt. And yet… and yet, ironically, those very sentiments seem to result in death. With or without Locque, regardless of how similar or different we are… I have already written my own tragedies. But I am not going to give up; how can I, when I’ve come so far? When I have asked you not to give up for me? I won’t make a hypocrite of myself. Yes, I’m afraid, even moreso now that I realize just how similar Locque and I are, and not only with regard to the nature of our magic. Yet, at the same time… I’m also very hopeful. And not just for me, or for the possibility that it will turn out well for me alone.”
Somehow, she must have found a park of life to ignite her ability to move her sluggish form, temporarily sliding out of Hadwin’s embrace. Crossing the room, Teselin opened the drawer of the table upon which her washbasin sat, and reached inside. Though bent and worn and looking like it had seen better days, the black ink marking the six of spades was unmistakable. “I wanted to keep it safe… I look at it often. I remember what you told me. Some days, the spades seem particularly sharp. Like spears. They do right now. But it also reminds me that those spears can be mine, and I use them to my advantage. Someday… maybe I will be able to use my magic to my advantage. After all, Locque did, for better or for worse. And certainly, she might have a few hundred years on me… but as frightening as our similarities are, they’re also kind of reassuring. But you know what I think? This is going to sound crazy--and I know that you and everyone else is going to disagree, but… I don’t think that it is too late for Locque, either. The philosophy of the six of spades isn’t exclusive to me.” She pressed the card close to her chest, over her heart.
“Hadwin… I think there is still a chance for all of us. Locque, included. I think our surrender is important. In fact, I think that Locque needs to get what she wants so that she can realize it isn’t what she wants at all. And… maybe I’m wrong, but she didn’t really seem to despise me. She might have shut me down, but under the right circumstances… I am willing to believe that she will listen.” The defeat that swam in her dark eyes just moments ago was abruptly replaced with conviction--and that little bit of hope that the young summoner always seemed to hold. “I know--that comes across as naive. And I know that you and everyone else will think that I am only planning this as some misplaced effort to save myself, but there are infinite ways that this can all turn out--and one of those ways is with everyone getting what they want. With Lilica getting her kingdom back, with us getting Sigrid back… with Locque realizing the futility of revenge. There is hope still for even Rowen. And I am going to work toward achieving as many of these positive outcomes as I possibly can. I realize not all of them will be feasible… but I’m not giving up on any of them, yet. Hadwin, I hope that you of all people can understand…” She put the playing card down to take one of his hands in her own. Was he abnormally warm, or was she still chilled to the bone from exchanging words with the sorceress? “I know it sounds mad. But I need to think in these terms… because at this point, nobody else will.”
Although Elespeth was exhausted upon returning to the palace that evening, she ultimately thought twice about heading to her chamber. Sleep would not come easy… especially not with so much already on her mind. Just as she was about to turn the corner toward where she would retire for the evening, a last minute decision encouraged her to keep on walking down the corridor, until she came upon someone else’s chamber door. In spite of the late hour, she had a feeling that its occupant was by no means asleep, and didn’t hesitate to knock on the door. “Isidor?” She called, and placed her hand on the latch to push it open before she could think better of it. Sure enough, the Master Alchemist was wide awake, and rising from where he sat at the edge of his otherwise untouched bed with the intention of answering the door. Something that resembled a paper flower fell from his hand when the former knight invited herself in, and joined the myriad of other paper flowers that sat at his feet.
Understably, Elespeth was confused… and perhaps also a little bit concerned. “Isidor. I’m… please accept my apology. I didn’t realize you were… busy…”
“Or otherwise asleep, Elespeth! W-who just walks into a person’s room at this hour and expects them to be awake? Is this some social convention about which I am somehow horribly unaware?!” Isidor’s cheeks flushed red as he made some futile attempt to push the papercrafts out of the way and under the bed.
“With all due respect… are you ever asleep at this hour, Isidor?” Feeling rightly ashamed for barging in, Elespeth’s determination suddenly gave way for concern for the overworked and under-rested man in front of her. “You’ve mentioned you cannot sleep at night… many of the serving staff often catch you asleep at your desk in the middle of the day.”
Isidor didn’t answer. He pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly exhaled. “Please forgive my outburst. You took me off guard. What can I do for you, Elespeth?”
“It’s about Alster.” Mention of her husband immediately captured the Master Alchemist’s attention. She watched as he dropped his hand from his face and to his side. “The ‘Alster’ that came back… at least, the part of him that came back, isn’t the Alster that we know. Much of him is still fragmented and residing elsewhere. But I managed to make contact with the side of Alster that we know… and love. And I know that is required to bring him back--all the pieces of him. I think you can help… if you are willing.”
“Of course. If there is anything at all I can do to help… you know that I will.” Isidor took a seat again, feeling a little more relieved and a little less embarrassed that the focus of the conversation was no longer on him and his unhealthy sleep habits, and the result of his anxieties that had accumulated in a small heap at his feet. “If it is within my realm of capabilities. What is required?”
“We need to fashion a room that not only stifles magic: it needs to completely shut it off. Like that shackle that Teselin has used to shut down her own magical energies… only on a larger scale.”
Isidor furrowed his eyebrows. “You want me to stifle Alster’s magic?”
“No. I want to cut it off completely. I want him to completely lose access to it; to trap him in a place and in a position that he can not get out of.” Elespeth said, clearly and enunciating every word. “Only then… only then will we really get him back. Whole, and not fragmented. Isidor, is this something you can do? Maybe with the help of a caster?”
“I… yes. Yes, it’s possible. I’ve already worked extensively with Alster. I know the complete composition of his blood, his body. I know his magic, but I’ll need a means to harness it. If another Rigas mage could assist me--”
“Perfect. You’ll have what we need. Let’s reconvene tomorrow.”
Without providing Isidor with the opportunity to react (or to back out), Elespeth was up and out of his room, leaving him to his papercrafting almost as quickly as she had invited herself in.
And she wasn’t done reaching out. After what little sleep the former knight managed to get, she didn’t waste any time approaching Tivia as the other half of the required help shortly after breakfast. Although the star seer’s hearing had yet to return in full, she was remarkably capable of reading lips if people spoke clearly and slowly, and Elespeth had no doubt she understood what was being asked of her, and why. It came as no surprise that she agreed to help Isidor. No sooner did she secure Tivia’s help that she then called an emergency meeting--something that had sadly become routine and rather expected in the palace, of late. Everyone seemed to keep their schedules relatively wide open, knowing that they could be called upon at any moment. She requested not only Lilica and Chara’s presence, but that of the usual suspects, being Haraldur, Hadwin, and Teselin. Isidor and Tivia needn’t be part of this crucial aspect of the plan, and Vitali was not only asleep, but required his Forbanne entourage, and frankly just couldn’t be bothered..
“Elespeth, are you here to brief what resulted of your meeting with Locque?” Lilica looked particularly on edge, her fingernails digging into the arms of her chair as if she were expecting yet more bad news. “What should we know?”
“Nothing. It was a load of crap and a waste of time. Confer with Teselin and Hadwin if you don’t believe me.” The former knight tucked her braid over her shoulder and shook her head. “I’m here about Alster. I know how to get him back. But first, we need to catch him.”
“Catch him? But…” Teselin frowned. “He isn’t even currently walking this plane, is that correct?”
“Not currently. But I’ve been in touch with… another part of him. It’s a lot to explain, but the long and short of it is that his soul is still fragmented. However, he told me his body will reappear sooner than later, and likely in the Night Garden. But… I highly doubt he is going to be compliant. So we are going to need to apprehend him. Haraldur,” she turned her body to face the Forbanne Commander. “Can you have your soldiers patrol the Night Garden more frequently than usual? They are resistant to magic, so there is little Alster can do to harm them if he resists. If we watch to catch him, then they are our best option.”
“And where exactly will we take him when we have him, Elespeth?” Lilica seemed only slightly more relieved that the issue at hand did not have to do with a certain murderous sorceress. When it came to Alster, things were never uncomplicated. “The dungeon cells aren’t even guarded because we don’t use them. You think that one of those would hold him?”
The ex-Atvanian shook her head. “No. That is why I am having Teselin and Isidor work together to fashion a room that will sever Alster’s connection to his magic--a room, not a cell. I don’t know how long it will take for all of the pieces of him to fall back into place… and I won’t have him living in squalor in the interim. I know this is all out of the blue, and probably sounds ludicrous, but you all need to trust me. If anyone here happens to see or to find him before I do or the Forbanne or able to…” Her eyes swept the room, at once determined and pleading, “then, as his wife… you have my permission to apprehend him by whatever means necessary. Just… try to avoid hurting him. He isn’t known for having a strong constitution.”
Forced to break eye contact before a headache got the better of him, Hadwin perked an ear in her direction, instead. It never needed to be said that Teselin’s multitude of fears, magnified by the strong pulse of her magic assailed him with near-constant ocular pain, an intensity he rarely experienced when glimpsing the fears of other people. The sensation was not a deal-breaker, and he seldom mentioned the discomfort out loud, but his body language often betrayed him. An anomaly among faoladh who only used sight as supplementary sensory output, Hadwin boldly answered challenges and requests using his eyes. Headaches were of little consequence when he gained invaluable insights in return. But with Teselin, for some reason, prolonged contact was almost unbearable...and he would do anything to silence or numb her fears, for good.
“I’m in agreement; I’d like to think I’ve got a good read on people, for the most part. Locque wasn’t pulling your leg, at least in terms of what she believes. But that’s the thing. There’s a whole slew of people out there who don’t start out crooked. Before my mam got her paws on me, I don’t know, maybe I’d have grown up to be decent. Someone like Bron; stuffy, straight-laced, and staunch follower of the rules. I can’t be that person now. It’s fundamentally against who I am. So sure,” he shrugged, “maybe there’s a way through to Locque, but the darkness that’s shaped her for centuries...can it really be erased so easily? We carry that shit with us. And she’s been riding that darkness wave for so long that we could’ve long missed the opportunity to reach her. It ain’t like it’s an apples to apples comparison between you and her, either, by the simple observation that she’s got yeeears on you. Years of stewing, decades of obsession. Once someone has dug themselves into a bad habit like that, believe me, it’s going to take a monumental push to shake them free of it. But,” he conceded with a nod, “if there’s anyone with the gumption and wherewithal to see through what everyone else writes off as a lost cause, it’s gonna be you.”
Dropping his arm from around her shoulders, he scooted aside on the bed, granting Teselin the space to stand, despite his tendency to crowd too close to peoples’ personal space. After fetching the aforementioned card from its place of honor in the top drawer, she returned to reclaim the spot beside him. The card sported creases down the middle and the black ink had faded to a blurry gray, but the six spades still contrasted strongly against the white backdrop, its meaning as clear as the day he presented it to her. “You’re right about that, scamp. We’ve all got spades in us. Everyone, even Locque, has got a battle to fight. I only see the struggle because of my Sight, but it’s typically invisible to those who aren’t in the know. So on that note,” a conservative smile lifted the corners of his mouth, “there ain’t nothing I can do or say to shift the course of your crusade. And I don’t think I want to, either. Could be I’m naive, too. Why keep gambling if you’ve got no hope that you’ll come out on top, even when the odds are stacked against you? So I understand, kiddo. I wanna see you succeed, because succeeding means you bucked convention. That you stayed true to yourself and didn’t waver in the face of people telling you how wrong you are. That you didn’t give up. Skeptical as I am, your flag’s a standard I can get behind and wave.” He firmed the grip on her hand, his smile cracking into a grin. “I’m with you. Whatever you need, I’ll back you up. I’ve got something riding on this, too. Mind, we gotta be prepared for failure. Weighing your losses and your survivability is part of the process, too. But if you’re all in, I’m all in.” Rolling his hand into a loose fist, he reared it back and bumped his knuckles against her own.
You don’t actually believe in her cause, the woman with the glass teeth seethed from the patchy corner of the room, untouched by the firelight. You’ve made up your mind to kill your sister. What do you get from lying to this innocent girl who you’ve exploited with your need for vindication? Crush her already. Crush her like you crushed the alchemist. There will be nothing else to fear about that girl’s fragility if the fear has come to pass.
Sometimes, Fiona, I don’t want to do things the controversial way. He glared at the shadowy woman. Surprise, surprise.
You know she is going to fail. And she’ll be worse off than before. Her hope is finite. It’ll evaporate. Keep egging her on, Hadwin, and she’ll be lost to you. Do her a favor. The cut-glass teeth looked ready to bite down on the neck of her prey and sever its spine. Crush her now to spare her a grimmer fate.
Then she’ll be lost to me! He bit back, growling at the shadow. We’re doing things her way. Not my way. She deserves the chance to control her life. I don’t have to believe in a positive outcome. It’s never truly going to be hunky-dory. But I’ll believe in her. Somebody has to.
As the shadow receded into the darkness, Hadwin, having won the round (for now), shifted his attention from the wall to the hope-starved girl on his left. In spite of the pain, his gold eyes made contact with her determined gaze, themselves reflecting tenacity and resolve. “Let’s do this, chickadee. Let’s catch the uncatchable fish.”
The following day, a meeting took place, as usual. While Lilica and Chara were expecting to hear from the trio who attended Locque’s midnight gathering, they were a little taken aback when the subject had nothing to do with the unstable sorceress and her coterie.
“Well, this is promising news,” Chara said, for once, devoid of sarcasm. She let out a breath of relief. “He is not yet lost. You will have my full cooperation. If he needs to be severed from his magic to slap him into reality, then so be it. Leave it to me and I will furnish him a cozy prison cell.”
“I can concentrate the Forbanne patrol on the Night Garden, yes,” Haraldur, leaning against his favored wall in the corner, nodded his agreement. “We’ve called back the majority of our numbers in preparation for surrender, so there will be no trouble assigning soldiers to flood the perimeter.”
“What if Serpent Lord’s anticipating an ambush?” Hadwin, seated beside Teselin, stroked his chin in thought. “He’s not dumb enough to stumble into a wall of Forbanne guards and muscle his way through. Can’t he go invisible and sneak around undetected?”
“It looks like you have volunteered to identify his whereabouts by scent, mongrel,” Chara raised her eyebrow at the faoladh. “I shall also inform my father to lend his services. Should Alster conceal his presence, Lysander will spot him. He is an expert on the technique. In addition,” she turned to Lilica, “we should send a message to the Gardeners and Elias. If they are able to concoct an elixir to induce sleep, then it will require but one person to creep up from behind and inject him with the serum. I recommend Haraldur and the Forbanne for the job, as Alster will not harm them in retaliation. Or,” her ultramarine eyes settled on Elespeth, “perhaps you can lure him to you, and inject him once he is close.”
“Al is probably gonna keep a wide berth from Elly,” Hadwin posited. “He knows it’s dangerous to draw so near to the other part of his soul. Could knock the wind out of his whole revenge-driven aesthetic. I take it it’s one of the reasons he poofed from her in the first place.”
“If we mess this up, and he vanishes from this plane a third time, there is a chance he will not return.” Chara worried her lip. “He will either go elsewhere, or manufacture a way to stay in the ether-realms indefinitely.”
“So this is our only shot. No pressure. I can work with those odds.”
“The sentinel tree will help to pinpoint his location,” Haraldur spoke up from the corner. “Like it did last time. I’ll check for signs every hour if necessary. Do we have a time-frame for when he’s expected to show?”
Elespeth shook her head. Not even the fragment of Alster tethered to her dream-state could provide an accurate prediction of his arrival. Soon. Whether ‘soon’ meant tomorrow or a few days hence, no one had a guess.
“Then Tivia and Isidor have their work cut out for them, hmm?” Hadwin rocked back and forth in his chair, raring to go. “If ‘soon’ can happen any minute, then we’d better get going and set this damn trap before we lose the advantage.”
When Elespeth approached Tivia during the breakfast hour, she didn’t need to inquire about the details of her visit. Discharged from the sanctuary days ago, the star-seer mainly kept to her chambers, leaving only to walk the Night Garden path for much-needed air and exercise. Otherwise, she mainly adopted Isidor’s hermetic lifestyle, a lifestyle that, to be fair, she was already practicing during her tenure at the farmhouse. The difference between then and now lay in her energy levels. Then, she diligently harvested and sowed seeds on the field, spending the majority of the day out of doors and the evenings cooking meals. Now, she sent all meals to her chambers and whiled the hours sleeping, napping, resting, or some combination of the three. Made easier by her diminished hearing, which had yet to recover, a ready blanket passed over her ears, and the silence helped her forget the world. During her long, lazy moments of respite, she understood Alster’s appeal to the ether-realms, for she too often felt the call of the stars, a more tolerable venture following the significant loss of hearing. Although her eardrums had healed, as per the Gardeners’ prognosis, very little sound was restored, producing a faraway, underwater quality that naturally distanced her from people and conversation. She didn’t mind. With the stars no longer screeching into her ears, she’d grown to tolerate, even to accept, the title of star seer.
It took a few knocks before she realized someone had knocked on her door; its residual vibrations clued her in to the visitor. Setting aside her half-picked meal, she rose to answer her caller. Even with compromised hearing, it wasn’t difficult to determine Elespeth’s request, especially when the stars had fed her supplementary information regarding the continued efforts in patching up Alster’s soul. Nowadays, little surprised her, and agreeing to lend her assistance was mere confirmation of the role she was consigned to play. Not that Elespeth couldn’t have asked Chara to lend her blood and magic to the cause. Tivia’s aid had scant to do with her status as a star seer. But...it gave her an excuse to work with Isidor. To give back. To help him, however small her help amounted to, in the end. And though it pained her to beseech his company, knowing they would open up old wounds, it also pained her not to see him. Ever since she fell into the cloud of his arms, deaf, injured, and helpless, she yearned to return to where she felt safe and protected. But her yearning was selfish. For good reason, he was avoiding her, and she, in turn, respected his unspoken request for space.
This time, he couldn’t deny her help when he was the one specifically asking for the contribution of a Rigas. For Alster’s sake, they would, again, swallow their hurt pride and come together for a common goal.
Later that morning, Tivia stood before Isidor’s door, her wavering fist hovering over the wood finish. She balked, vacillating between knocking anonymously or shouting her name. How would she hear if he replied to her summons with the affirmative to come inside? Would she keep knocking until he answered out of frustration?
Fortunately, she needn’t worry about the proper etiquette between a jilted lover, a shuttered room, and a person whose spectrum of hearing bordered on deafness. The door swung open, revealing a bleary-eyed Isidor, who appeared at the height of exhaustion; mussed hair, crooked glasses, and under-eye bags large enough to store all the books in his library. Her first reaction was to ask if he needed anything: food, water, medicine to induce sleep—whatever she could provide. Instead, she trained her one eye to rest on his lips, preparing to read them if necessary.
“Forgive me,” she spoke, wondering if her voice had gone louder, disjointed, or intelligible. “Elespeth told me you need a Rigas to assist you in creating a room to stifle Alster’s magic?” She said each word slowly, deliberately, fearing his lack of understanding. By his nod, he seemed to indicate that she translated her message effectively. “Tell me what is required of me. I’m able to hear. Not well, but if you speak loudly and facing me, so I can see your lips, and if you,” she hesitated, “stay close, a-at this distance, then there won’t be trouble. Alternatively, you can write what it is you wish to say. Mm...may I come in?”
Elespeth’s request had come, unexpected, to the Master Alchemist residing in Lilica’s castle, and he’d be a bold-faced liar to say that the implications of ‘trapping’ someone who had been nothing but a good friend to him from the start wasn’t a task that sat at an odd angle upon his conscience. To work to sever his own friend’s connection to his magic, to ensure he was captured and kept at bay, when Alster had been nothing but kind and respectable to him… how did one proceed to essentially betray one of their best friends? At the same time, he couldn’t deny that Elespeth was far more attuned to her husband’s situation that he was. And there was no denying that when the Rigas mage had finally recovered and left the sanctuary to address his band of allies, there had been something… off about him, even as he’d expressed his regrets and apologies for keeping everyone in the dark and causing them to worry, so. Even to someone as socially and emotionally stunted as he was, it hadn’t been difficult to discern that something just hadn’t resonated in Alster’s words and voice. It had all sounded very scripted, like he had prepared what he’d meant to say, and practiced in front of a mirror before saying it. It was beyond him just how ‘off’ his friend was, but if his wife’s opinion was any indication, then it was more dire and serious than he’d imagined. And if it meant the difference between returning Alster to the state and the person he once was, and losing him forever… then what choice did he have?
Not to mention, it gave the Master Alchemist a purpose and something to do to keep his mind occupied, aside from wasting countless sheets of paper crafting lilies that served no purpose for anyone, himself included. As soon as Elespeth left that evening, Isidor had abandoned his bed to sit at his desk to begin to draft plans, for what little he could do without an aforementioned mage whose help would be necessary to see this task through. Time went on, minutes, hours, and he wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, sitting on his desk in his peripheral vision. But at some point, he finally looked away from his books to acknowledge the girl who was suddenly so close to him, her eyes fixed on the task of folding her own paper lilies. She wasn’t looking at him, but that did not mean she wasn’t listening. In life, Arisza had been quite the talker, he recalled, but she’d also been a superb listener whenever he’d needed her to be. In death, her talking might have ceased… but her openness to his thoughts hadn’t. He knew she heard him from the occasional soft smiles that curled at the corners of her thin lips.
“Should we really be putting paper to use in such a way? Think of the plant life that sacrificed itself for this purpose. Then again… I’m one to talk, aren’t I?” He glanced behind him at the pile of paper crafts he had kicked underneath his bed and flashed a tight-lipped smile. “And I never did learn to make them as well as you. You flowers look like they could be real. I mean, I can make mine just as real if I wanted to… but that’s cheating. Alchemy is cheating. I’ll never surpass you in your ability to bring a sheet of paper to life, Arisza.”
The girl--who had never aged, but perpetually maintained that sadly awkward, thirteen to fourteen-year-old stage of life--didn’t acknowledge the comment verbally, but took a moment to consider her most recent creation, as if trying to see what he saw in the simple beige flower. Without a word, she placed it next to her, and picked up a fresh piece of paper to begin anew. “I’ve been asked to create a body, you know. Not something I’ve done since… since Zenech was…” He couldn’t continue, but thankfully, it wasn’t necessary, anyone. And it wasn’t like his lifelong friend asked any questions. “There’s so much wrong about it, I know. But I can’t help but feel that there might also be something right. The woman was young and killed brutally, before her time. According to that wretched wolf, she hadn’t been dealt a good hand in life, and this… this could give her that second chance that she deserves. I think, more than anything, I’m not happy to be working with the necromancer. I’d promised myself I would never indulge that bastard. Although… I have to give him credit, which sickens me even more. He’s not asking for anything in return for his services. In fact, he’s been nauseatingly helpful since we’ve allowed him into the palace. Am I wrong to have hoped he’d slip up so we could banish him, again?”
His lips pulled into another flat smile and he shook his head, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m sorry. I’m rambling, aren’t I? I was never very good at talking, but you always put up with it. So did… well, there was another girl who put up with it, as well. Not only that, but like you, I felt like she actually heard me… but I went and messed it up, Arisza.” Isidor’s shoulders slumped, and he looked away, removing his spectacles to clean the lenses with the sleeve of his tunic. “I thought I was helping--I really wanted to help her. I liked her very much, and I… still do. But I wasn’t helping like I thought. And now, we… well, I don’t know anymore. Whether we’re friends or just allies with mutual acquaintances. It doesn’t matter. What exactly did I expect to come of it, anyway? I…”
He let out a sigh, and picked up the paper lily his childhood friend had crafted, running his finger along the delicate edges. “For so long, I wanted to escape that tower… but now that I am free of it, I’m only coming to realize that I cannot function outside of it. Things were so much simpler when it was just me and the stone walls. Although, I…” He turned to look at her again. To take in her timeless, forever-youthful presence. “It wasn’t the same without you. I’m sorry I ever forgot you, Arisza. I don’t think I could return, now, knowing that you… that you won’t be there… but at the same time, I’m not sure that I can stay, either. Not here. It isn’t really my home. I… don’t have one. I could have had a home, once, if only I had listened to you. If only I’d followed you… Arisza.” Isidor lowered his voice to a whisper, his eyes full of very old sorrow that continued to haunt him relentlessly. “Can you forgive me? I don’t… I don’t know that I can ever forgive myself. For any of it…”
The girl said nothing--she never did. But, in a distinct deviation from the normal… she paused in her papercrafting, and put it down. And then she turned to him, really looking at the stricken Master Alchemist, instead of into the void, and covered one of his hands with her own. He could… he could feel it. It was warm… “Arisza…” Isidor’s jaw dropped. He felt his heart race. “You… are you really…”
A knock at the door next to his desk snapped him out of his morning reverie--yes, a reverie. A dream. That was all it had been. Arisza was not here… she never really was. He had dozed off some time in the early hours of the morning while compiling notes on how to abide Elespeth’s request, and yet, despite the handful of sleep he’d inadvertently managed to achieve, he did not feel at all rested. Just mystified that it hadn’t been a nightmare, this time, and sore from being slumped over his desk for so long. His neck was stiff and his spectacles all askew as he scrambled to his feet and opened the door, completely forgetting to fix his appearance before he found himself face to face with a certain star seer.
“...Tivia.” He must have worn his confusion as obviously as he wore his exhaustion, for there was no need to ask after her presence. She gladly offered it her reason, which made perfect sense, and had he been slightly more alert, he might have been able to divine it, himself. Who else would Elespeth have gone to in order to acquire the caster-half of this process? Elespeth herself, despite now sharing Alster’s magic, was not well-versed enough in it to provide such services as a caster. Chara’s magic had… well, changed, since she had reconnected with it through the Night Garden’s healing properties, and the other Rigases were too far removed from the situation to quite understand what was happening, or else their skills were required for other tasks. Tivia was, thereby, the only appropriate candidate… and to think, he didn’t see this coming! At any other point in time, he’d have relished the opportunity to work with Tivia, and might have himself sought her out, but now…
Was there any possible way this wouldn’t be, somehow, uncomfortable?
“Right. Of course. Elespeth was right to inform you.” Isidor found himself backpedaling on his own thoughts, in case they were plain on his face. It wasn’t his intention nor desire to make the star seer feel jilted. “Tivia, if you are feeling well enough in the aftermath of what happened the last time we sought to bring Alster back to the physical realm… then I’d be happy for your help. In fact, without a magic user, I fear this task would be impossible, even for a Master Alchemist. Please, come in, ah…”
As soon as she cleared the threshold, he hurried to tidy up his living space in any small way that he could… although it didn’t make a difference. The bed clearly wasn’t ever used; it was covered with papers and books and objects he had yet to put away. Paper lilies still scattered the floor, and his desks and bookshelves were nightmares of what he considered ‘organized chaos’. When Tivia had been visiting more… frequently, it had been better. Marginally, but still better. He’d had a reason to keep it clean when it was occasionally occupied by someone other than himself.
“Please, have a seat.” He indicated the only empty chair in the room, the one at his desk, and picked up a notebook where he had been scribbling formulas. Then, as per her request, he stood close enough for her to see his mouth, and spoke slowly. “I don’t expect this to mean anything to anyone but me…” He nodded to the notes in his hands, all scribbles of words, numbers, and alchemical symbols. “But, to make a long story short, I am going to create a brand new alchemical sigil that I’ll carve into the entrances and exits, and all four walls of the room where Alster will be held. What I’ll need from you is two things: to enchant the carving instrument, and then, to use your Rigas magic to activate each and every one of the sigils. Since you are also a Rigas, it will probably affect your magic, as well, so we will have to act fast when we put on the finishing touches. To customize it more to Alster’s magic, Elespeth has already offered her blood; they share it, and a heart, and now, a magical link. She is as close to what we can get to… well, ‘Alster-proof’ this room. She has the magical fingerprint we need, but she isn’t really a practicing mage, like you. Does… does this all make sense?” He suddenly appeared worried, a crease forming between his brow. “Was I… speaking too quickly? Rambling? Do you have any questions, or need me to repeat anything?”
While there was no knowing how long it would be until Alster returned, Elespeth knew it wouldn’t be too long, and consequently had urged Tivia and Isidor to do what they needed to do as fast as possible once she’d provided the Master Alchemist with her blood. And it was a good thing, too, because it wasn’t long after she’d approached the two of them--three days, at most--before she finally spotted her husband, exactly where he’d told her he would be.
She hadn’t anticipated she’d find him, herself, but with nothing else to do to keep her mind occupied (and drinking her worries away every night was simply not an option), she willingly participated in the man-hunt alongside Haraldur’s soldiers. After all, aside from Hadwin, who had a nose for finding people, she was the next best option in sensing her husband’s energy field. Especially now that she shared in his magical potential, it wasn’t difficult to detect that familiar current in the air that very much wasn’t coming from her.
Surely, it was nothing but pure chance that the moment Alster’s form began to manifest early one morning, it was hardly five feet away from her. She had to blink a few times to ensure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. He was hunched over, and looked to have difficulty getting to his feet, likely in part to being malnourished… but it was him. There was no mistaking it.
“Alster!” Before she thought better of it, his name was on her lips. Unfortunately, he hardly spared her more than a glance before he prepared to run. Desperate, she reached out, and called. “Wait--you were right! Alster, you were right, all along. The sorceress… she needs to be stopped. And you’re more capable of ending her than any of us.”
It had been a long-shot, but those words were enough to stall Alster’s retreat, even if only momentarily. Curious and confused, he turned to face her. “Teselin and Hadwin arranged a meeting with Locque. I accompanied them to provide another layer of protection in case it all went sour. The young summoner is somehow still hopeful, but Alster, that woman… that witch, she is beyond redemption. It isn’t even that she doesn’t see what she is doing as wrong. She sees it, she knows it, and she… she just doesn’t care. Doesn’t have it in her to care who has been sacrificed for her vision, and who will later be sacrificed. She wants nothing but the satisfaction of revenge.” Her lips tightened, as did her knuckles. Whatever he thought of her words, her anger was real. “If we don’t stop her now, then more will surely fall. More D’Marians, more people close to us… and we can’t have that. I won’t have that. Teselin will disagree, but I am to the point where I would rather ask forgiveness than permission. I can’t trust that Lilica and the others will be safe after they surrender. So… will you help me?” She uncurled one of her fists and extended her hand. “Will you help me take Locque down, for good, and lift the shadow that threatens to leave this kingdom and its people in eternal darkness?”
He hesitated, searching her face for deceit, but he would find none. The former knight had no qualms about sharing her sentiments about the tyrannical sorceress: that she despised her for what she had done to her, let alone others. And that utter lack of remorse from the other evening… that had stayed with her, and stoked the embers of her own fire. At last, he took her hand, and she smiled. “Perfect.”
No sooner did the word pass her lips that the darts came sailing through the air--not one, but three of them, embedding in the back of Alster’s neck, his shoulder, and his arm. Three, in case two of them failed to hit their mark, but all carrying sufficiently high doses of sedatives… That said, the Rigas mage hardly had time to react before he fell forward, his body going limp in her arms. That was when Haraldur, Hadwin, and a handful of Forbanne pushed through the brush. The three of them, Elespeth included, had all been armed with a dart. But the opportunity had just so happened to fall upon her to engage Alster while the others focused on their target. “I think he’ll be out for a while,” she said to the others, cradling her husband’s unconscious form against her shoulder. “But let’s get him back, fast. Isidor has assured me the room is ready: might as well get him used to it, now. He’ll be calling it home for a while.”
Tivia found it difficult to concentrate on the business aspect of her visit to Isidor. As she sported one eye, and her ears had lost their reliability, other senses picked up the slack. Inside, she smelled his distinct odor, a curious combination of alchemical powders, ink, paper, and, ironically, sleep. It was not unpleasant, but all the same, was redolent of their last encounter, when his supportive arm guided her to the sanctuary, and she, unmoored from reality, relied on his scent and his touch as an anchor to earth. As he spoke, his nearness tingled and charged the air like gentle fingers running through her hair, clamming her to the spot.
Realizing she’d been staring at him and hadn’t answered his question, a deep pink rash spread across her cheeks. Lest he assume she did not hear--rather, read--what he said, she bobbled her head in a frenetic nod. Her fingers traced the sketches of the sigils he jotted in his notebook. “N-no...you weren’t speaking too quickly,” she said, at last. “Or rambling. Neither.” It was a lie. Her lip-reading wasn’t yet up to snuff, but she was able to get the gist of what to do. “Enchant the instrument and activate the sigils. It makes sense. I am more than capable of doing what you ask.” Was she? Or would working alongside him serve as a distraction too jarring to ignore? “You...you can rely on me.” Could he, when she already had let him down? Had rejected him, and walked away?
This is all we can be, she thought, forlornly. Just...colleagues. But, it’s something. I’m appreciative of any time I spend with you. I truly am…
But now was not the time or the place to spew out saccharine sentiments. They would only do further harm.
Not two days after Elespeth’s strategy meeting to discuss how to apprehend Alster, the man himself materialized in the Night Garden, a stone’s throw from his wife. Despite efforts to alter the course, his arrival on the earthly plane always coincided with Elespeth’s location. On his initial return, some days ago, he had also manifested in her vicinity, a mere two-minute jaunt to the sanctuary where she resided. No matter of disconnecting from her physical presence could erase the attraction of revolving around her orbit. Like gravity, he was helpless but to adhere to her shackling pull towards the material plane. Prolonged contact in her company could undermine his plans to destroy Locque. Too dangerous to risk their proximity, the moment he caught her gaze, he backed away and sought an escape route.
Wait! As though compelled to listen, Alster stopped mid-stride. Why? What preternatural hold did she have over him that made him impelled to obey her commands?
“Elespeth.” He pivoted on his heel and faced her. If she wanted to talk, he’d let her talk. She seemed prepared to delve into a lengthy discourse, and if so, it would allow him the opportunity to recover from the dizzying effect dimensional travel wreaked on his body. Stooped from the strain, his breath rattled, too winded to form words beyond a simple utterance or two. Colored spots developed before his light-sensitive eyes. Yellow liquid formed around the corners, his vessel too dehydrated to produce substantial tears. Regardless of his weak constitution, remnants of magic sparked on his fingertips. One snap of energy and he would be gone, the world once again fading in the background where it belonged. No qualms, no regrets. Perhaps a hasty, indefinite departure would expedite his plans to shed his wretched bag of flesh and ascend into a being of pure etherea. If he could initiate the transfer to a higher frequency, why, then he’d surely reach a state of godhood, and not even the likes of Locque could defend his smiting strike from the heavens.
“Of course she is beyond redemption,” he managed, words too airy to carry much shape or resonance, as if his corporeal form refused to develop beyond a crude rendering of how a material-based lifeform acted and behaved. “We’ve discussed this, already. Everyone agrees. It is only Teselin who lacks the clarity to understand. Your conclusions are redundant, but I’ll accept them.”
He stared at her proffered hand, disinterested in what it represented. Last time she touched him, it generated a physical response he did not enjoy. Engaging in such a rough, tactile exchange did not appeal to him, and hesitation stilted his movements. To gauge her honesty, he searched her eyes, analyzed her aura for spots of falsehoods, but he found none. Insofar as her sentiments concerning Locque revealed, she spoke the truth. “My plan for Locque’s extermination won’t involve you. It won’t involve Chara, Lilica, Haraldur...no one. It won’t involve Teselin if she does not interfere. But I would appreciate it if you could keep watch and ensure she will not intrude.” His hand, his steel hand, barely grazed the fine hairs on the back of her fingertips. “For your sake, I hope you are on my side, Elespeth.” Those were the last words he uttered before three darts whizzed out of the well-manicured forest and bit expertly into his flesh. Too slow to deflect the ambush with a shield, Alster slumped into Elespeth’s waiting arms, his eyes fluttering to a close.
Rustling out of the underbrush, Haraldur, Hadwin, and the Forbanne guard who went by Kadri, emerged on the garden path, eyeing the unconscious Rigas caster warily, in case his unconscious body still had the ability to vanish. When nothing happened, Haraldur volunteered to carry the lightweight body to their destination. “Lead the way,” he nodded to Elespeth as he secured Alster over his broad shoulders.
The cell in question was a repurposed room at the end of the east wing, a quiet corner of the palace not known for many visitors and guests. When not in use, many of the rooms had been consigned to extra storage. Alster’s new chambers had since been cleared of the extra bedding materials and miscellaneous furniture parts, the floors and furnishings meticulously scrubbed and cleaned. To prevent any escapes made in duress, the Rigas caster was placed in an interior room, free of windows. In addition, all sharp objects, mirrors, pottery, and fireplace implements had been removed.
Haraldur laid him on the bed, arranging his limp limbs in a natural repose for when he awakened. Two Forbanne accompanied him to the room: Kadri and a man of Haraldur’s stature who chose the name Gunnar. “Effective today, you are assigned to oversee Alster. He’s not a prisoner, so don’t treat him as one. If he becomes unruly or disruptive, you may use non-violent force, but don’t harm him. If necessary,” he outfitted the two soldiers each a pair of Mollengard’s magic-voiding manacles, “restrain him. I leave the rest to your discretion.”
Exiting the bedchambers-turned-holding-cell, the trio responsible for taking down the formidable caster traversed the hallways, en route to deliver the news of a successful capture to Lilica and Chara.
“The Forbanne in Alster’s company are two men I trust implicitly,” Haraldur assured Elespeth, who looked over her shoulder whence they came, knots of worry twisting her brow. “They’ll see to his safety. In the meantime, try to get some rest, Elespeth. These next few days will be difficult. I can’t imagine he’ll respond well to his current situation.”
“Oh, he definitely won’t.” Hadwin, who had been largely quiet, weighed in, waving his hand in the air flippantly. “He doesn’t do well when he fears he’s trapped. And without his magic, one of his greatest identifiers, this shit’s gonna get ugly. But that’s just my take.”
Since he’d been hit with not one but three sedative darts of strong potency, Alster’s heavy dosage knocked him out for two days and hadn’t quite cleared when he awakened, groggy and suffering a massive headache too acute for his planar indifference to disregard. The demands of his physical form screamed for attention; for sustenance and water and something to numb the pain. Through his blurry vision, he scanned the unfamiliar environment. He reclined upon a bed in a nondescript room. To his right, an end table displayed a decanter of water and a basin with a clean towel. Ahead, the fireplace roared, but if it radiated heat, he could not determine a temperature. Seated on chairs just shy of the hearth, two guards stirred to attentiveness, now cognizant of their charge’s newfound conscious state.
“Don’t rise,” the larger guard grunted, pointing to a needle lodged in Alster’s arm. Tubing ran from his bed to a funneling system in the corner, its containment filled with water. “It feeds you while you’re out. A healer is supposed to remove it.”
“I see.” His voice, croaked from his throat. It felt wrong. Everything felt so wrong. So very...busy. Loud. The air scratched at his skin, and the constant, itchy scritching reminded him of bugs skittering beneath the top layer. Sickening squelches sounded from within: a heartbeat. The roiling of his stomach. The slurping of the tubing as it filtered nutrients in his body. The goings-on of his internal organs, and his sudden awareness of them, was offputting, nauseating. By listening to the patterns of his disgusting mortal anatomy at work, he noticed something awry. Something missing. Something essential, that comprised the core of his existence.
“Would either of you gentleman care to explain why I am bound to this room?” He said, calmly looking to his Forbanne guardians.
A soldier he recognized stepped forward, a lithe man whose burnished skin reflected the color of the hearth-flame. Kadri. “You are a friend. We are assigned to help you, friend. Commander Sorde said you need to rest so you can regain your strength.”
“If that is the case,” he attempted to move his prosthesis, but it did not react. Bereft of magic, it operated as nothing more than an arm-shaped decoration grafted to his limb, “why am I barred from my magic?” He squinted suspiciously at a rust-colored scrawl of sigils written high on the walls, one in each corner and over the doorway. “This room has been prepared for me, hasn’t it?”
“Yes,” Kadri affirmed, “by friends who care. You are sick, and your magic won’t help you to get better, so this room was made for you to rest.”
“I see,” he reiterated, his expression darkening. “And where are these friends of mine? If they care so much, why aren’t they here?”
“You were resting,” Kadri frowned, not quite understanding the question. “So they let you rest. If you’d like, I’ll fetch them for you. Recuperation is easier when you have comrades, I’ve been told.”
“Yes. Please do.”
It took about an hour to gather the parties responsible for Alster’s house incarceration. Due to prior engagements, some were unavailable to attend. When Kadri returned, Chara, Tivia, Isidor, and Elespeth entered through the doors, crowding the relatively small space near the foot of his bed.
Dropping any preamble, Alster, who’d been sipping on some water, set the copper cup aside and readjusted his position on the headboard, sitting straight-backed and severely upright, resembling a cadaver propped on display with wires. His gaze settled first on Isidor. “The sigils in this room...they’re yours. Tell me, what possessed you to separate a mage from his magic?” The dull ferocity in his eyes flared, acknowledging Tivia to his right. “And you contributed your magical essence. And you,” his glare intensified on Elespeth, “your blood paints these walls, does it not? I wouldn’t be surprised,” he scanned Chara, from crown to clavicle, “to hear that you arranged these quarters for me. Haraldur supplied the guards, and Hadwin--oh I’m sure he gladly participated in my takedown. And the darts, were the sedatives extracted from Night Garden plants? Ordered by Lilica, concocted by Elias and the Gardeners? Yes,” he panned across the room, sparing no one his uncompromising stare, “it looks as though you all had a role to play in defeating me. And what, praytell, necessitated your flagrant act of betrayal? Yes, this is a betrayal. All of you collectively decided that I, not Locque, am the bigger threat. That I, not Locque, should be reduced to a sick-bed patient in a prison cell. Can I divine a guess as to which one of you was the ringleader?” His accusing stare sought out Elespeth. “I told you, Elespeth, that it behooved you to remain on my side. I told you. And now you wronged me. You wronged me so egregiously.” He pulled the wedding band off his finger with his teeth and slammed it on the side table. “I'm done with you.”
“It was you.” Tivia, who seemed to understand every word Alster, in his rage-fueled diatribe, spouted, shifted to the head of his bed, bending over so that they were face to face. “Elespeth followed your instructions. You are locked in this room, separated from your magic, because you put yourself here. Your soul cannot survive unless it is whole. There is a piece you have lost, and it is fighting to reunite the halves together. Only once that happens will you be free of this room and restored of your magic.”
“You went through such inane lengths to trap me because the most broken half of me convinced you that I am broken? Do you realize how ridiculous you sound?!” His expression transitioned from disdainful to outright hostile. “And what might you do if ‘I’ am never whole? Will you leave me to wither and die? Is that what you want? You would rather plunge the knife and kill me than allow my half-form to exist? Rejection of me is a rejection of him, too. The him you prefer. The him you love. If I’m gone, then he’s gone!”
“For the love of--we don’t want you gone, either! We want you whole!” Chara gripped the wooden post near the foot of his bed.
“And I’m saying it will never happen!” Alster bellowed, his throat crackling from the strain of maintaining its volume.
“Then you will stay here for the rest of your days, Alster.” Contrary to her usual vim and vigor, Chara’s response was more of a sigh, a wistful whisper of regret and bone-weariness.
“I don’t think so.” Before anyone could stop him, he tore the needle from his stomach and jammed it into the side of his neck, aiming for the carotid artery.
In the days following Alster’s capture (which was something Elespeth still struggled to wrap her head around), the former knight was perhaps in a worse way than she had been prior to his re-emergence on the physical plane. Given the high dosage of sedatives that had been required to take him down quietly, Elias had reassured her that it was far from unusual that he would remain unconscious for several days following, but that didn’t assuage Elespeth’s constant worry. Although her husband was watched ‘round the clock by Kadri and another Forbanne soldier, that didn’t stop her from checking on him every hour, several times an hour, during the day and throughout the night. Her friends and comrades were only able to put a stop to this by convincing her to take a tonic to help her sleep during the night, otherwise she would toss and turn and pace relentlessly, leaving her chambers too often to check and see if Alster had finally awoken.
When word finally reached her some days later that the powerful Rigas mage had opened his eyes, Elespeth was the first person to answer to his summons, completely forgetting about the meal she had hardly touched in favour of seeing him again. Sure enough, he was wide awake, looking haggard and weak but able to sit upright. She wanted to hug him; to pull him into an embrace and explain away his concerns, telling him that he would be well and whole again in some time, that they only needed to be patient while the missing part of him re-converged with his physical body… but she was quick to remember that that wasn’t what the man in front of her wanted to hear. This was still Alster, but not the whole Alster… and certainly not the Alster that loved her and wanted to be with her.
The man on the bed said nothing, and Kadri explained that he would be willing to speak up only after all other parties had gathered to adequately cover the span of all of the questions he must have. So Elespeth waited patiently, arms folded and back to the wall, until Tivia, Chara, and Isidor all arrived. They all shared the same sentiments as her: relief that Alster had finally awoken, mixed with deep-seated concern that the man sitting up before them, with steely and calculating eyes, was not at all the Alster Rigas they all knew and loved. Despite being reassured that the Serpent had not once again assumed control of his mind and actions, he very much came across the same way he had when Elespeth had ‘left him’ for that brief period of time in Braighdath. He had a one-track mind, a singular goal that was defeating Locque, and his friends and family… to him, right now, they were nothing but obstacles. And he wanted nothing to do with him.
Of everyone who had responded to his summons, it was expectantly Isidor who appeared the most uncomfortable: the man who feared conflict on top of any given social situation where he was put on the spot. His face was simultaneously white and flushed as Alster called him out for his involvement in his capture and incarceration. “I… I did, yes. The sigils are my doing.” It was impossible to keep the tremor from his voice. Did he betray Alster? Absolutely: according to the flesh and blood man in front of him, everything he’d done ran contrary to the mage’s wishes. And although it had been necessary, his friend’s admonishment still stung, and caused him to reconsider his actions. “Elespeth came to me with this plan, and I of course agreed, because… because you are not yourself, Alster. And if this is what is required to make you whole again, then I’m afraid I am in agreement with everyone else that this is necessary. You’re… my friend.” His shoulders began to sag. “And I don’t have many of those. I need to look out for the ones I do have. I just… want you to be well again, Alster. To be whole again.”
Strangely, it was Elespeth who appeared the least affected by her husband’s outburst, even when he made the bold gesture to remove his wedding ring. Whatever pain she felt from his rejection was hidden behind her stone countenance. To remove his ring and throw it away, simultaneously throwing her away, was his prerogative: after all, she had done the same, and her ring finger was still bare. “I don’t have to, but I’ll say it anyway: I apologize for the deceit, Alster. You’re right, we all betrayed you, but if you must blame anyone, then you can blame me. It was I who approached every single person standing here to help me to orchestrate this very outcome, because you--the part of you that is missing, the part that you are so adamant to reject--explained what needed to be done. I am sorry it upsets you, so, but…” She pressed her lips into a thin line and pushed away from the wall, her arms folded in front of her. “I am not sorry for doing what is necessary. You may not agree right now, as you are; existing like you are as barely half a man, but you will thank all of us when you are whole again. We can be patient and wait for that to happen.”
Of course, she didn’t expect him to be happy, or compliant; in fact, Elespeth had been prepared for the antics that ensued following her words. Alster was fast, but his reflexes were weak from lack of nutrition, and the former knight knew exactly what he meant to do when he tore the needle from his skin. Before he could do too much damage, she lunged, pinning his arms to the bed with her knees and grabbing the needle from his hand. Only a small trickle of blood pooled from his neck. He was too rash and uncoordinated, and had completely missed the artery she was sure he’d meant to sever. “Help me restrain him!” She shouted to Kadri, who needn’t be told twice. Alster’s resistance had been anticipated, and the Forbanne soldier already had ropes at the ready for this very scenario. “Chara, Tivia, Isidor--go and fetch Elias or Daphni, or one of the Gardeners. Whomever you find first.”
While her allies hurried off in search of a healer, Kadri and Elespeth managed to secure Alster’s arms and legs to the bedpost, to prevent him from doing any further harm to himself. Fortunately, Elias and the other healers had already been informed of Alster’s situation, and had been forewarned that he might attempt something such as self-harm. As a result, the Clematis healer had kept himself readily available in the event that he would be needed, and it wasn’t long before he was there to assist, medical bag in hand. “He decided it would be a good idea to stab himself in the neck.” She explained, as if the needle and the superficial wound weren’t enough to tell the story. “But he seems to have missed the artery. Otherwise, he seems fine. I’m guessing he was trying to injure himself so that we would relocate him to the infirmary or the sanctuary. In here, his magic is being stifled to keep him grounded--literally. No more otherworldly wandering, until he is finally himself, again.”
Not much assistance was needed, fortunately, and the Clematis healer reassured her that there would be no need to relocate Alster for such a superficial injury. He did, however, promise to bring some more appropriate leather bindings to keep him restrained to the bed, without putting too much effort on his wrists and ankles. So after patching the unruly Rigas mage up with gauze, and re-inserting the needle that provided his weak body with nutrition, Elias left, with the promise that he would come to check on him no less than three times a day. With only Elespeth and Kadri left in the room, then, she took a seat at the end of Alster’s bed and drew in a long breath.
She had a lot to say. And Alster wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon, so he got to hear each and every word.
“No, Alster, we don’t think you’re a threat. Well, not to anyone but yourself, at this point. You’re weak and delusional and horribly confused. That is why all of this,” she spread her arms and indicated the room, “was necessary. It isn’t a cell; I specifically requested that you not be kept in a cell, because you are neither a criminal, nor a prisoner. And I won’t have my husband treated as such. You’re… for lack of a better word or means of clarification, you’re sick. You aren’t yourself, and despite what I had hoped, it was clearly a good thing I thought ahead and predicted the worst.” Elespeth tucked her braid over her shoulder and exhaled a long, deep breath, her eyes on the glimmering gold ring on the nearby table. With the only light in the room being the witchlight high upon the walls (no sources of fire, thank goodness), everything had a decidedly eerie glow about it: the ring, the untouched pitcher of water, and even the man confined to the bed who was no longer himself.
“Listen very carefully, because I mean every word I am about to say.” She went on at last, folding her hands in front of her. “Do what you want with that ring. Wear it, remove it, throw it away--whatever makes you feel better. I probably deserve it, considering I haven’t worn mine for a while, now. Hadwin thought it was cold of me to take it off, but… it doesn’t seem to bother you too much. I wasn’t wearing it when I apprehended you in the Night Garden, and you didn’t say a single word about it. You didn’t even notice it. One single act of betrayal for your own good, and we are no longer married--is that it? Or was it over before then, since your priorities have changed, of late? No longer people-focused like you used to be, you’re suddenly very task-focused. Nothing matters but destroying Locque. Although, say you do--and then what, Alster? What will you do when you’ve accomplished your goal and no longer have a purpose?”
She met his eyes, and for all she missed the Alster that had appeared to her in her dreams, Elespeth felt she was doing a fair job of hiding the pain behind her anger and determination. “You would have nothing, and no one. Killing your enemy, without any friends to return to, because you haven’t a care in the world for them, anymore. What kind of life is that? Will you just search for the next evil to be vanquished? Because you will never rid the world of all evil, Alster. Mollengard still prevails; and that is only the other evil we happen to be aware of. The last time I saw you like this, you were determined to heal anyone and everyone, whether or not it was against their will. But now… now, the turn you have taken is so much worse. And I acknowledge that it is, in part, my fault.”
Sighing through her nostrils, the ex-knight pressed her head against the wall and looked up at the witchlights. “I was angry at you. I still am. I want to slap you and shake some sense into you… but that won’t do any good, because you don’t even see yourself as someone in need of help. This time, I know what I am going to do. I am going to be here; I am going to stay, and be present as much as I can be. For as long as it takes for you to come back to yourself, again. I won’t make the same mistake and assume that this situation will just fix itself, independent of my involvement. So like it or not, Alster--like me or hate me, I am not going anywhere. Even if, when you’ve become whole again, you find you do not love me anymore, I will not regret my decision to not make you go through this alone.
“But, that said… how this proceeds from here on out is completely dependent on you, Alster.” She flicked her green gaze from the ceiling to her husband, who glared at her like she was the next thing that needed to be taken down, apart from Locque. “I said I didn’t want you to be treated like a prisoner. No chairs or cold cells or darkness. But I also won’t have you behaving as reckless as you just were, within the past hour, and do not think for a moment that I, along with Elias and everyone else who helped me get you to where you are, won’t take the necessary measures to prevent you from harming yourself. To prevent you from running away and interfering with your chance of recovering, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. So let me explain how this can be easy.” Shifting at the foot of the bed, she turned to face him. “You stay put and cooperate. Drink water and stay hydrated. Eat the hot meals we bring you to keep up your strength. Bathe on occasion; I can arrange to have a portable tub brought in when you need it. You’ll recover faster, and far more easily, and you’ll have the freedom to move about in this room as you please. With promise of good behaviour, I’d even have some books brought in to keep your mind occupied. I know how fond you are of libraries.”
A wistful gleam flickered briefly in her verdant eyes, but it only lasted a second before they hardened with resolution. “There’s another option, though. Another way that this can play out, so let me be very clear of the consequences otherwise. If you cannot be trusted not to harm yourself, Alster, then we will keep you restrained for as long as we need. Your meals will be fed to you, and if you won’t eat or drink, then Elias will continue to supply your body with nutrients by alternate means. I survived for quite a while in much worse condition than you by those very means. Being restrained also means you won’t have access to the chamber pot, so,” she raised an eyebrow, “you can say goodbye to your dignity when we have to change your soiled clothes or bathe you. There will be no books, so if you don’t otherwise care for my company or Kadri’s to keep you entertained, then you will be shit out of luck. In short, Alster… if you decide to want to act like a petulant child, then that is exactly how we are going to treat you. I--we will do whatever it takes to keep you at bay until you have broken free of this asinine madness. Do you understand? Do not underestimate me. I know when it is appropriate to be soft; and I know when to put my foot down.”
Pushing away from the bed, Elespeth stood up again and reached into her pocket and pulled out her own wedding band. She rolled the circular, gold object around in her fingers for a moment, like she was contemplating putting it back on the finger where it belonged. Finally coming to a decision, she slowly placed it back in her pocket. “I’ll put it back on when you do,” she said at last, feeling a little bit defeated. “And if you choose not to, in the end… then I’ll respect your decision.”
Nodding to Kadri, who had kept respectfully silent during this exchange, she indicated the chair across from the bed. “Have a seat, Kadri. I’m fine over here.” She said, choosing a corner of the room to settle for the time being. And that is where she would stay, she’d decided, barring the need to relieve herself or if her presence was otherwise required for other reasons. She had made a mistake, distancing herself from Alster the first time. That mistake would not happen again.
His arm, slow from disuse and atrophied, did not possess the strength or the reflexes to embed the needle past the top layer of skin. Closest to him in proximity, Elespeth wrested the sharp implement from his hand, with the two Forbanne soldiers milliseconds behind her in speed. While she deposited the now unsanitary needle into an empty basin, its bloodied, hollow tip leaking out nutritional fluids in drips and drops, the Forbanne wrangled the thrashing caster, securing his arms and legs in an effective knot of ropes too complex to unravel by even the most spirited yank. Aware of his defeat, Alster ceased struggling, too spent to persist in writhing and fighting opponents built for battle. When all was said and done, they had bound and splayed him to the bedposts like a man about to be drawn and quartered. His neck, where a small nick oozed red ichor, was bandaged by Kadri, who announced his knowledge in administering battlefield first aid. It was pointless to resist, so he lay stock still, a ghostly contrast to his earlier frenzy of activity. Much as the misinformed crowd thought him to be sick, he begged to differ. A sick person wouldn’t have the sense or the proportion to admit he’d been thwarted.
“I know how this goes,” he chuckled, a low-boiling gurgle of contempt. “You will continuously insist, and insist, that this is for my own good. Controlling everything I do until you’re satisfied with my progress? You’ll never be satisfied, and I’ll never be free,” he spat. “When I hit a milestone, crossing another item off your endless checklist, you’ll develop another excuse for binding me to your will. And another, and another--ad infinitum. How are you any better than Locque? Standing here, compelling me to behave to your standards?” His hyper-focus settled on her, scrubbing away the existence of everyone else. “Elespeth--you’re not bonded to me. You’re bonded to the simpering whelp that crouches behind your soul and uses it as a shield. Given time, he’ll fade, and so will your ties to each other. I am what’s left. All of you,” he landed a hard-hitting glare at the people who dared defy him, “get used to it.”
His visitors, excepting the guards and Elespeth, ushered themselves out of the room, empty of retorts or explanations. Even Chara, a woman usually full of the former, dipped outside, pale-faced and driven to silence. Exhausted from suffering fools who refused to understand, he quit expending precious energy over such a futile cause and closed his eyes, ignoring Elias as he entered to examine and rebandage the speck of a wound on his neck. Despite his refusal to acknowledge him, Alster was above petty jostling in bed, and did not move when the Clematis healer reinserted the needle through his abdomen. Not like he could if he wanted to; the Forbanne guards, anticipating an outburst, clamped him down on either side whilst Elias worked to reconnect him to the tubing he’d violently rejected.
“If he causes trouble,” Elias handed Elespeth a box containing two syringes, each filled with a bilious liquid, “and there is no healer on site, you have my permission to use a sedative. This is the very same formula that struck him in the Night Garden, so dose him with care. You’ve seen its effects; it is far too potent for repeated use, and is contingent upon an emergency.”
“It won’t come to that,” Kadri removed the pressure from Alster’s stomach (to which he was thankful; no amount of traveling the cosmos could lessen the roiling of his overactive gut). “We’re here to help, and we will.”
“Whether it does or it doesn’t,” Elias rose from the bed and hefted his medical bag, “it’s no matter. Her Majesty has allocated two Gardeners to lodge in the empty room across the hallway. Should you require their assistance, they are on call. No sanctuary transfer required. So,” he looked down his nose at the man in restraints, “that means no funny business, Alster. It will not free you of this room. Consider yourself fortunate you missed the artery in your neck. Unless you were aiming to kill yourself--in which case, I cannot begin to divine how dying could possibly satisfy your revenge. Alas, I am not privy to the universe and its depthless secrets, but it seems to me like death is a significant step backward. At any rate,” he dipped his head at Elespeth, “I’ll soon return with the leather bindings we supply for our more difficult patients. For certain, it will be a more comfortable experience. Do not hesitate to keep me abreast of his progress, or lack thereof, in my absence.” And he stepped out of the room.
Another weight replaced the side of the bed where the Clematis healer once sat. Opening one eye, Alster gave Elespeth an impassive stare, one that made clear his disinterest in listening to whatever predictable rant she felt so inclined to share. During her lengthy discourse, he relocated his gaze to the ceiling, but shifting his perspective did nothing to still the words fluttering out of her flubbing mouth.
Fine. She wanted to talk. He’d let her talk. And once she saw fit to stop talking, he deigned to reply. “So, you consider yourself my wife, still, following our conversation in the hallway.” He nodded, as best he could, to her bare hand. “Do not presume to think I didn’t notice your missing wedding band. I did. Say what you will of my removal, but you removed yours, first. Something I said triggered you to expunge the evidence from your finger, and why? Out of disgust for your husband? When did you decide I was meaningless? Before or after you died to awaken my spirit from hibernation? Was it then you realized I’m not worth the sacrifice?” His head rolled to the left side of his pillow; the pinprick wound on his neck pinched its infinitesimal protest, an annoying bug-bite and nothing more. The new vantage point revealed the end table, upon which he’d abandoned the gold and diamond-beset promise to Elespeth, a circular binding ceremony in miniature and symbol of their matrimony. “I noticed, but what was there to say, Elespeth? You made your intentions clear in that single gesture. As did I. Locque cannot walk this earth alive. I’ve done what I must but no one seems to understand the necessity behind my actions. To defeat her, I can’t allow other earthly matters to distract me from obtaining the power and the skill to disseminate her wretched energy for good. Earthly distractions aside,” he raised his head to send her a steely glare, “I didn’t take off my ring. Because I am--I was--loyal to you. But you didn’t think the same...and now, it’s off.” He closed his eyes, banishing the offensive sight to darkness. “It doesn’t matter, does it? We broke even. It seems we both won’t get what we want.”
His prosthesis arm, bound in two places, the wrist and the upper bicep, reflexively twitched against its contorted angle on the bedpost. Little fires of agony shot up his nerve endings, a pain he hadn’t experienced since before Isidor reconfigured the inorganic steel to complement organic flesh and muscle. “Has it ever occurred to you that the piece of Alster stuck in your subconscious dream-realm is not operating under our best interests?” he said, in a low, injured hiss. “Imprisoning me, stripping away my magic like I am the enemy...how does this treatment inspire the desire to reconnect? I daresay it’s distressing the soul, and tearing the seams further apart. He is reckless. People-oriented, true, but he’s too emotionally-driven and sentimental to use this skill effectively. It invites disaster. Isn’t this how Locque nearly destroyed us? No,” he half-opened his eyes to observe the Master Alchemist’s handiwork scrawled on the walls, “we’re better as separate entities. The pragmatic side deserves a body and the magic to smith tasks into shape and substance. The dreamy, idealistic side is at home flitting about as a formless wight and whispering sweet nothings to your heart. You’ll wear him close for as long as he survives. Believe me, this arrangement is best...but none of you will see it that way because you refuse to see it, too caught up in your own emotionality to exercise proper common sense. But whatever; describing my methods is wasted on you. Go on ahead,” a long sigh deflated his body, sinking him into the bedding, “list your demands. The ridiculous ransom I must pay to earn my freedom.”
As she detailed the steps required to obtain his release, the smallest bob rattled his head in acquiescence. He knew how to give people what they wanted; how to be a model patient; how to memorize a script and perform a convincing facsimile of the Alster she loved. “I’ll adhere to your conditions, Elespeth. I don’t have a choice. Despite what you believe, a prison is still a prison, no matter how dressed up or pleasing it appears to the eye. Stella D’Mare was my prison, once…” And he left his ominous, unfinished statement at that.
About a week had passed, and Alster followed every instruction to the letter. Elias, who reaffixed his harsh rope restraints with cushioned leather padding received a thank you and a willingness to cooperate. Within two days, he gradually weaned off the feeding tube and took meals by the mouth: simple preparations of vegetable stew and plenty of water. Under supervision, and secured either by Elespeth or the two Forbanne guards assigned to his care, he was allowed untethered from his bed for use of the chamber pot, a sponge bath, and routine exercise. On day three, he graduated to a wooden bathtub filled with steaming water from the hot-spring. Day four earned him the privilege of books and by then, they forewent the restraints altogether. Conversation between his captors was civil. The Forbanne guards, who blockaded the doors with bulk and steel, responded to questions and would even ask some of their own; in particular, Kadri, who Alster remembered was a self-professed friend of Cwenha.
Elespeth, who, true to her word, scarcely left the room, took her meals with him and slept in a mess of sheets and pillows on the floor. He also extended some courtesy to her, a blurb or two of surface-level niceties. They were sterile, short-lived, and amounted to questions surrounding Galeyn’s surrender to Locque (which had been put on hold for the time being), or little nothings inquiring about the brief moments of her day that lay beyond the stifling four walls of the prison ‘not’ deemed a prison. Gradually, he learned to shift his general demeanor and behavioral patterns, adopting a softer persuasion. He started to ask after her well-being, met her eyes with a smile or two, and tailored his speech patterns to fit the more emotionally-capable side of Alster currently lost in the realm of dreams.
It was not all a lie. While his end goal was to trick his wife and his friends into believing he was whole (and failing that, at least believing he would become whole), there arose an unavoidable side-effect in reconnecting to earth-based affairs; namely, feeling disgustingly more grounded as the days spanned. With the painstaking dragging of each unholy hour, he would feel another weight drop as gravity threatened to crush his lungs. He was swimming in heaviness. Sounds resonated and colors saturated. Constant sensations, changes in air pressure, in temperature, in tactile surfaces ranging from smooth, to soft, to hard, to coarse stood the fine hairs on his arms and neck on end, reducing him to a hypersensitive mass of shivers. Worse yet was whenever he made physical contact with Elespeth. The smallest press on the small of his back or tug around his arm would arrest his heart, and he would forget to breathe. It was profoundly annoying...but if he was to convince everyone of his trustworthiness, he couldn’t flinch away from her touch. He needed to invite it. Invite her.
On day seven, he was ready to enact the next stage of his plan.
It was evening. He knew it was evening by the reliable cycling of his three meals, and the fact that Kadri--helpfully--would tell him the time, unprompted, on the hour, like a bell-ringer in the town square. How the Forbanne guard could keep track of the minutes internally, and in an interior room, no less, was quite impressive, but he wasn’t keen on giving his captor accolades for his useless--and maddening--time-keeping skills. Elespeth, who had recently returned from a meeting, entered the room, washed up, and dressed for bed. Closing the covers of a book he’d only been half-reading, Alster peered over the side of his bed, at her sad little nest she called a sleeping arrangement.
“Elespeth...there’s plenty of room for you on my bed.” He patted the empty space with his one working arm, for emphasis. “It’s too much space for one person. Bonus reason--if you’re up here with me, you can act as my restraints. One-armed as it is, I’d be too weak to escape your grasp. And it’s possible…” he manufactured an uncertain pause, “I wouldn’t want to.”
Sliding from the bed, he crouched on the floor to her level. Improper balance, exacerbated by a three-toed foot and a limp limb caused him to bowl over and nearly into her lap. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” He elected for a chuckle as he rearranged himself into a cross-legged position. “While I’m down here, I might as well tell you…” he pulled a diamond-studded ring from his pocket. His wedding band. “I’ve thought about putting it back on. I was hasty to remove it when I...when I realize you and the others, you’re doing this all for my welfare. You weren’t betraying me. Not at all. You were saving me.” Lodging the band between his thumb and forefinger, he laid the remaining three fingers of his hand upon her arm. He swallowed and breathed through the enormity of her touch. Even without his magic, her energy hummed and crackled, and its familiarity ached. Her magic was his magic, and it sang for its originator. It wanted to come home. “How about we do an impromptu ceremony tonight? I’ll put on your ring and you’ll put on mine, and we’ll share the bed, reunited as husband and wife. I hope that in days to come,” he leaned forward, their lips almost touching, “we can be together in the room that is ours.”
To seal the deal and to sell his deception, he closed his eyes and captured her mouth in a kiss.
It was a mistake. A horrible, miscalculated, colossal mistake.
An image materialized behind his eyelids. A figure strode towards him, his mirror, and the face in the mirror smiled broadly in triumph.
I never stood a chance, did I? He said to the mirror, who shook his head.
No. You didn’t. Before him, the mirror shattered, and the barriers vanished. Jagged pieces became whole. A soul, reunited by a kiss.
“Well… aren’t I still your wife? Aren’t you still my husband? To my knowledge, nothing has taken place to officially null and void our marriage.” Elespeth shrugged her shoulders, opting for as logical a standpoint as she could assume. Emotion did not appeal to the Alster Rigas in front of her; frankly, nothing did. But he could not deny pure, unadulterated logic. “Removing a ring might be a statement, but it doesn’t make anything official. But you are right--I will give you that. I removed mine first.” She rubbed her bare finger, still feeling strange and naked without its familiar weight. “Honestly… I don’t know why I took it off, in the moment. It was a decision that I made without really thinking about it. But I can tell you I did not remove it as a statement that I wish to part from you, forever. That is literally impossible, Alster, because we share too much. A heart, magic… at this point, I think it is impossible for us to live as completely separate and independent entities. I never… but I know that I never once thought that you weren’t worth my sacrifice. I think...” She paused, feeling the weight of her own ring in her pocket. She might not be wearing it, but it had never left her person. Still kept it close to her body. “I was tired of feeling like a failure… for you. Like nothing that I did would make a difference. That I can’t save you, the way that you have saved me over and over, but… even if that is the case, even if it meant saving a man who could never love me again, I’d still have done it, Alster. I’d still have laid down my life for you.”
The former knight sighed, recalling that steadfast decision she had made the night she had chosen to die for him. There hadn’t been any other option; she hadn’t thought twice about it. Of course she would risk herself and everything she had just to get him back, it wasn’t even a matter of deciding. And looking at him now, strapped to the bed with his cold and calculating stare… it didn’t change anything. “Elias was staunchly against the decision. He thought the strain of stopping and then restarting my heart was too risky. The only reason that he and Daphni agreed was because they knew that I would do it, one way or another. I’d find a way that was far more unsafe without their assistance. And if it meant getting you back, now… making you whole again--then I would do it again. Whether or not they’d consent.” She wasn’t kidding. Resolve swam in her green eyes.
“But what does it matter, Alster, whether or not I am wearing my ring right now? What would it matter if I had been sincere in the Night Garden in going along with your reckless revenge plan? What would our marriage even mean to you? The you that exists right now--completely devoid of emotion… this you doesn’t love me. These rings wouldn’t mean anything to you, anyway, because you won’t even touch me.” It was impossible to hide the hurt, at this point. She wanted to put her ring back on, as if there was some slim chance that that would make a difference… but she knew it wouldn’t. The Alster who loved her was still lost, somewhere, unable to reconnect with his body. “But you’re wrong. You know you are wrong. When you allowed the Serpent to use your body and mind as a puppet, you knew deep down that it was not a sound decision. You admitted as much when Hadwin snapped you out of it. This is different, but only insofar as the reason for your behaviour. You are not driven by the Serpent, this time. You are just missing the most integral part of yourself. And this is why we must act contrary to your will, Alster. Because Hadwin cannot scare you back to your senses. Because doing away with Locque at any expense is not the answer. Because… because we need you, here. Not the you that you are now, some sad, fragmented being that has become out of touch with his values, but the whole you. We need Alster Rigas in his entirety, because he is a key player in our success. Honestly, I don’t think that we can vanquish Locque without him. So I am going to do everything I can to have him back--whatever it takes. However long it takes. I can be a patient person… so,” She drew in a breath and exhaled on a sigh. “Resist for as long as you like. I am not going anywhere. And until you are whole again--neither are you. Even if our surrender has to happen without you.”
True to her word, then, she settled into the corner of the room, where she was prepared to stay until she got her husband back--fully, and entirely.
Although he spent the first day or so in binds, the former knight did not expect that Alster would remain non-compliant for very long. He wasn’t a stupid man, and understood very well that the extent of his liberties in this magically-stifled room were contingent on how little of a fuss he made with the rules that had been drafted for him. He ate willingly, three meals per day that were brought to him. Not once did he complain about the food or make any comments about preferring anything alternate to eat, and slowly but surely, his emaciated form began to fill out again. Under supervision, he was first allowed to take sponge baths independent of any forceful hands, and eventually, with the display of favourable behaviour, a wooden tub filled with sufficiently hot water was brought into the room to provide a more comfortable experience.
However, Elespeth knew better than to take these signs of compliance as signs of improvement--of signs that her husband was coming back to her. There was still a passiveness to his voice, a faraway look in his blue eyes, that suggested his body was present, but his mind, his heart, still resided elsewhere. So despite the behaviour, the former Atvanian remained intensely wary in his presence. She was not cold; she entertained his brief attempts at conversation, and not once did she use any unnecessary force when supervising and small activities that returned little, tiny bits of his freedom at a time. But it went without saying that Elespeth was not ready yet to wear her heart on her sleeve and bear it to someone who might yet hurt it. This Aslter, compliant as he had been… he still was not her Alster. Not in his entirety. Just because he was playing by all the rules did not mean that he was making progress; it just meant he was working towards regaining his freedom. And he would do whatever it took to be let out of this room.
But Alster wasn’t the only one experiencing vast discomfort in such cramped quarters, shared with two, sometimes three, people. Upholding her promise, Elespeth was present more often than not. She occasionally took breaks to relieve herself elsewhere, feeling wholly uncomfortable heeding that necessary bodily call not only in front of Alster, but also, Kadri. She would leave to retrieve meals for the both of them--and to her credit, ate the same, watered down vegetable stew that was provided for Alster, so that he would not have to bear witness to someone eating anything more appetizing in front of him. She would ask him what books might interest him, and left to retrieve those, too, along with the tub when he needed to bathe (though similar to the call of nature, she took her own baths elsewhere). At night, however, she slept in the same room, fixing a makeshift cot with a pile of blankets and pillows in the corner. The room could have fit another small cot, however it would have greatly limited the space for Alster to walk around and stretch his legs and muscles, so instead she’d opted for a far simpler, albeit more uncomfortable option. She didn’t sleep well when she was able to sleep at all. Sore muscles in her shoulders and a pinched nerve in her neck that sent tingles and small jolts of pain down her arm rather limited her range of motion, and there wasn’t a morning when she didn’t wake up with a headache, of some sort.
And still, she chose to stay. To be close to Alster, even if they weren’t sharing a bed… because she was not about to assume that the Alster before her, the Alster currently walking this realm, wanted that. But neither would she abandon him and exacerbate an already unstable situation. So she sucked up her discomfort and went through the motions, stretching whenever she could to ease the strain on her muscles, and occasionally asking Elias for some pain relief for her headaches. She hadn’t even allowed herself a hot soak in a tub, electing instead for a quick dip in a (cold) nearby stream; just enough to not smell as badly as she felt.
At last, later on in the week, when Alster’s progress (insofar as his obedience) had begun to peak, the stifling air in the room without windows, and utter lack of sunlight finally began to get to Elespeth. Sometime in the afternoon, when Alster was taking a nap on the bed, the former knight called in Kadri, who had been standing guard outside the door. As the days had gone on, they’d found it wasn’t entirely necessary for three people to occupy the room, and instead the Forbanne soldier stood just outside the door, ready to take action if it ever became necessary. “Do you mind stepping in for me for a while?” She asked, closing the door quietly behind her. “I have… a meeting to attend. It’s rather important. I’m not sure how long I will be, but I promise to be back to relieve you this evening. Is that alright, Kadri?”
She knew the man would agree, particularly since he was there to assist her under Haraldur’s orders. A fact that only made her feel worse for asking at all, because… she had completely lied. There was no meeting… but her temporary leave was important. For the sake of her sanity, her mental health, and her stiff body. There was only one place she wanted to be, right now, and she knew just the person to enable this somewhat poor decision making.
Seeking Teselin’s room, she knocked on the door, but it wasn’t the young summoner who answered. Instead, it was the person she happened to be looking for: half-dressed and looking as though he’d just woken up, himself. “Get your clothes on. We’re going drinking.” She announced, rather than asked. “Before I lose my goddamn mind.”
It never took much to persuade Hadwin, and before long, they found themselves at the same tavern they had attended a week ago. But there was no merrymaking this time; Elespeth was all but devoid of energy. Circles as dark as bruises threw off her otherwise fair complexion, and she couldn’t find a comfortable position to sit where something didn’t hurt. If she had to compare… she probably looked like Isidor’s twin. Sleepless and always in a state of discomfort, physical or mental. “It’s been a week. He’s not… he still isn’t himself. Sure, he’s playing the game, following the rules, but it still isn’t Alster. And I don’t know what to do. I was starting to crack, so I had to get out of there for a few hours and forget about the fact I’m somehow still failing my husband. Maybe… maybe what he said is right, Hadwin. Maybe the Alster that we see now is the Alster we are stuck with. If that’s the case, how do we move on from it? He can never have his freedom, in the revenge-driven state that he’s in…”
Elespeth drained the stein of ale that she had only ordered moments ago, wincing when tilting her head back too far set off a twinge between her shoulder blades. “Fuck, I feel like I’m being held together by nothing but knots. I… I don’t know what I even asked you here, Hadwin. To drink with me in the middle of the day. Maybe I’ve already lost my mind. You told me that I shouldn’t worry about not being enough, but what if… what if that is the case? What if I can’t help Alster? And the part of him that reached out to me is doomed to the void of a dreamscape?” With a soft groan, she rested her cheek on her hands. The shooting pain in her shoulder went away; now it was her neck that screamed in pain. “How long is it reasonable to keep this up? We have chosen to surrender; Locque isn’t going to be patient, forever. At what point is this just going to put everyone at risk?”
Of course, there wasn’t a good answer, but Hadwin oddly had a way of reassuring her that endeavors such as these were not only worth it, but effective. After all, he’d born witness to the worst of their issues, pre and post-marriage, and as much as she hated to admit it… he was usually right. Alster could be saved, he could be whole again, and she would be the one to help him get there… however long it took. “You had better be right. I hope that you are.” Elespeth sighed, and stared at the bottom of her empty stein. “Sorry I’m not an uplifting drunk right now. I thought the ale might make me forget that my body feels like it’s going to fall apart. But… I appreciate the company. Bad idea to drink alone when you’re feeling like shit.”
Standing from the table, she left a few coins to pay for her drink (and Hadwin’s; she owed him from last time), and then nodded at the door. “I can’t go back to him like this, though. I’m going to walk it off until I’m sober again. You’re welcome to join me; but unfortunately, you won’t get any singing or poor instrumental music out of me, this time.”
A couple of hours later, when the sun had set and people were readying themselves for bed, Elespeth--sober at last--returned to the room where Alster was being kept, and as she’d promised, relieved Kadri from his supervision duty that was keeping an eye on her husband. Shutting the door, she wordlessly stripped out of her day clothes, picked up the nightgown she’d set aside on one of the tables, and let her hair out of its braid. It fell in waves over her shoulders as she knelt to fold the blankets on the floor into a slightly more comfortable heap, where she collapsed, for another night of restless slumber. Alster must have finally decided that her sleeping arrangements were pitiful, for he spoke up, and even… offered to share his own bed. “It’s fine, Alster.” She sighed, taking a seat upon the blankets. “Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. It’s my choice to stay here and sleep in this room; the floor is just fine.”
But he was relentless; even closed the space between them and took a clumsy seat in front of her. A distinctly Alster gesture, one that made her heart lurch, even before he came forward with his next proposal. Is he… could this be… No. She stopped herself from hoping just in time to see this for what it was: another step that Alster foresaw to achieve his victory. Get close to her again, convince her he was whole… and then run for it when he got exactly what he wanted. She should have seen it coming, and should have seen the kiss that came with it, but she was too late to react. It felt like the Alster she knew; her Alster, from the way his lips moved against her own, to the warmth of his body so close to hers. She wanted to believe so badly that this was real, and not some ploy, but… but what were the chances that he would suddenly snap out of it? That after a week of no positive signs that he was whole, a single kiss could undo all of the damage that maintained these two halves of the man she loved, separate from one another?
“...don’t…” She breathed at last, pulling away from him just a few inches. Enough to breathe and to think with a clearer head. “Don’t… say what you don’t mean, Alster. Please, don’t hurt me like that. I want it to be real. I want you to be real. And I get that you’re just playing by the rules because you want your freedom, but you don’t have to drag my heart down to achieve it. Please…” She rubbed her temples, which still pulsed with a dull ache. “I don’t think I can handle that kind of deceit, right now.”
Since meeting Locque and Rowen in the snow-dusted woods, Hadwin had been lying low, preferring to ensure Teselin’s welfare over contributing to the monotonous drudgery of palace life, Alster’s recovery notwithstanding. Preparations were underway for surrender, but at a slower, hesitating clip; the Galeynian council collectively agreed to postpone the date, a decision that likely wouldn’t sit well with the remorseless witch, but as Hadwin so eloquently pointed out to Nia via resonance stone, if Locque hadn’t vaulted Alster into infinity, then she’d have what she wanted by now; a peaceful takeover. Not like she particularly cared about peace, but there was no denying an easier, smoother transition of monarchs through employing a bloodless route to the throne.
Hadwin was enjoying a quick cat nap as a wolf, (an irony not lost on him), when an insistent knock on the door jostled him awake. The summoner, who, following his influence, had fallen asleep on the bed, did not stir, leaving him to answer to the voice on the other side. Considering the visitor was looking for him, the effort of shifting to human form and scrambling for a pair of trousers wasn’t a wasteful one.
“Well hello to you, too!” He grinned as Elespeth skipped the greeting and cut straight to her proposal. “Day drinking, eh? Must be pretty bad over in the Al containment zone. Hold on a tick.” He ran a hand through his thick mass of hair, arrayed in a lion’s mane of wild unkemptness (another irony not lost to him). “Lemme get decent.”
The truth was, he looked forward to the side-trip of Elespeth’s desperation-driven expedition. No disrespect to Teselin, but he’d been running a week on headaches and limited booze, having delayed his desires for a big-time distraction by choosing responsibility and shirking some good old sporting opportunities. Even if he was trading one headache for another, as evidenced by Elespeth’s wraith-like appearance, headaches were better dealt in an environment where he could forget they existed. Besides...he was dying to know the dirty on Alster’s soul, which, inevitably, wasn’t going so well.
They chose the same drinking establishment from a week ago, but owing to the hour, one not conducive to drinking under the table, the place had settled into a sleepy aesthetic, a huge departure from the spirited song and dance of last time. Happily accepting Elespeth’s offer to pay, he ordered two ales to start, with the promise of more on the way.
“Yeah, this ain’t nothing new,” Hadwin sighed through his nostrils, producing a snort in response to the she-warrior’s spoken fears she concerns. “How many repetitions of hopeless causes did you lot cycle through? You keep beating the odds. Handily. I’d even bet that your beau wouldn’t have the grit to pull these fucking bold maneuvers out of nowhere if he wasn’t without a shadow of a doubt sure that you’d save his sorry ass whenever his little escapades put him in hot water. He knows he can get away with this shit because you’ll cushion his fall. Now, it could be he went too far this time and you two have finally reached some uncrossable threshold, but personally? I don’t believe that bull.” He brought the tankard to his lips and drained the drink in seconds. “That soul-split Al you’re entertaining right now, he ain’t immune to fear. And he fears you, Elly. He fears your touch. What it can do to him if he’s not careful. Seems he’s got an unconscious awareness of your magnetism, and knows it’s a thing to avoid if he wants to keep the two halves separate.” Pushing aside the empty tankard, he brought the second one to the fore, but didn’t yet chug it with the reckless abandon of the first. “Here’s my hypothesis; if he gets close to you, he’ll become whole. Because you’re housing the part that makes him whole. You’re the gatekeeper to his soul, and that’s gotta count for something. Long as you’re around, he can’t maintain the distance to operate as a half-man. You’re hella important, Elly. Ain’t no way he can survive without you.”
Having said his peace, he reared back his head and shamelessly guzzled the contents of the second ale until it, like its brother, sat as an empty, discarded vessel. “Leave the Locque stuff to us; you’ve got enough to worry about. But hey, I’m game for whenever you need a break from your unorthodox domestic affairs. S’what I’m good at. Speaking of shit I’m good at,” he swerved in his chair, facing her, “turn around. Back to me.” With interlaced fingers, he rotated his wrists outwards in a stretch. “I’m ace at massages. No surprise, there. You know I’ve got a way with my hands,” he gave a flirtatious wink. “Relax. This ain’t a sexual come-on. No foreplay. And no innuendo intended but damn do you need a pounding. So allow me to straighten you out a bit.” It took some further convincing—after all, a massage from the man who had also massaged her insides did not inspire confidence—but his offer was an innocent one, and she knew him better than not to overstep in matters concerning sex.
At her consent, he cracked his knuckles and began with her neck, gradually kneading out the knots as one would a wad of dough. From there, he broadened his scope to incorporate the shoulders and upper back, alternating between knuckling, rolling, pressing, and naturally, the requisite pounding, mindful of the hisses of pain and her instructions to go lower, higher, harder, or softer.
After going at it a while, he dropped his hands, satisfied by the result. “There you go,” he scooted his stool to its original designation, towards the bar. “Ready to keep fighting the good fight, Elly. Couldn’t get at all the knots in one session, but any longer and people will talk. So,” he stood in tandem with Elespeth, who threw some parting coins on the counter for their accumulated tab, “let’s get you back. A long walk’ll help grease up those sore muscles.”
As they were headed in the same direction, Hadwin joined her for the first leg of the trip, smoking his pipe and enjoying the brisk air of a cold, but not unbearable late winter afternoon. Once they reached the palace gates, he stopped and inclined his head at her. “Ah, well, this is where we split. Maybe next time, we’ll turn the tables and I’ll unload on you. Got some dirty laundry I’ve been wanting to air out. You’re right, by the way; better not to drink alone when you’ve got dark shit running amok in your mind, yeah? I yammered about some of that dark shit to Tes but she’s so convinced everyone can be saved that I don’t have the heart to deflate her hopes and crush her spirit with real talk. Her idealism’s a fragile thing. Better she’s got a cause to distract her from the truth she’ll learn eventually.” He sent a puff of pipe smoke to mingle in the swirling vapor streaming from their mouths. “That not everyone can be saved. Some people, like your beau, it’s a done deal; you’ve got his heart on a leash. Tug it hard enough and he’ll be brought to heel. I’m not too worried about him. But others, like Locque, like...Rowen, I think they’re past their due. With Ro...I was just killing time before she snapped. That poor kid never had a real shot, not with me as her only lifeline. Ah,” he let out a shaky laugh, “look at me, rambling when I said I’d save the goods for our follow-up appointment. Now I’ve spoiled the surprise. Well, see it as a teaser for when it’s my turn to play the sad sack. To be continued?” Placing a parting pat on her back, the faoladh, pipe in hand, ambled off to enjoy what was left of the waning sunlight.
By contrast, Alster, barred in a room that lacked windows, could not enjoy the sunlight or fresh air. Were he more focused on earthbound pleasures, this little fact would have bothered him, but at present, it did not. What mattered most was gaining his freedom, and by extension, his magic, and the easiest route to success was by appealing to Elespeth. Unfortunately, the best method of accomplishing his goal depended on establishing physical contact. Days ago, she lamented over his disinterest in touching her. The Alster consigned to the dream-realms initiated many a saccharine embrace, always starved for love and always seeking a return on Elespeth’s love like some unsuccessful investor spending his entire fortune for a scrap of gold. Setting his expectations sky-high, he always scrabbled for more than he would realistically receive. Reality was never kind to him; ergo, his banishment to the subconscious, where he could retire to a cruelty-free existence and create life-affirming fantasies to his heart’s content, was a boon of the highest order. He didn’t have to suffer. Neither of them did. Their schism was ultimately beneficial.
But everything changed when he locked lips with Elespeth, and the half of his soul residing within her latched to him in a moment of weakness. Off guard and open for attack, he was unable to defend against his gentler, milder counterpart’s unexpected assault.
Why do you burrow through? He demanded of the other-Alster. You’ll suffer!
Is that so bad? We’ll have each other. We’ll have Elespeth. To be forcibly separated is suffering.
Gasping, he wrenched free of their one-sided kiss, eyes wide and unblinking. The hand he’d rested on her arm squeezed and loosened, squeezed and loosened, paralleling the speed of his racing heartbeat. “E-el,” he sputtered, a jumble of confusion. The two sides within him warred and argued, leaving him breathless and lightheaded. “Wait.” His grip tightened before she could pull away and break their connection. “Don’t let go. Please. Something’s happening.”
In a flicker, his gaze readjusted. When their eyes met, he beseeched her to stay. “I can feel a...cohesion. Like someone is cauterizing a wound. It,” he grimaced and bowled over in pain, leaning his weight on her as he fought to balance upright, “it burns. It’s not a harmonious convergence.”
I don’t want this! The dominant side screamed at his invader. With a yelp, he released Elespeth, backing into a corner like a frightened animal. “Get away,” he bristled, rising on his knees to poorly resemble a desperate, starving bear on the brink of death. “Don’t touch me.”
We can’t survive like this! The dream invader pushed through a second time, compelling him to drop down to all fours, on knees and elbows. “Elespeth,” he pleaded, his gravelly voice struggling to command the ability of speech, “tie me up.”
Locque must die. You won’t stand in my way! “Get out! Get out, now!”
Yes I will. I will do whatever it takes. “Tie me up!” He yelled, shivering from the effort to exert dominance. “And hold me down. Don’t let go until I stop. Don’t sedate me; I have to fight through this. And don’t let me go!”
So will I. “Shut up!” In a bid to silence the battle for control, Alster flung at the wall, head first, seeking to slam himself into a concussion, but three sets of arms culled his self-injurious advance. Along with Elespeth, the Forbanne guards were quick on the scene. Together, they helped lift Elespeth’s thrashing husband to the bed and, despite the adrenaline powering him to impressive feats of strength, had little trouble restraining him with the leathers Elias had provided. To prevent from biting through his tongue in a frenzy, they bound and gagged him, which also muffled his screams and obscenities. But Alster would not be deterred. He persisted, ramming his stomach up and down in a sickening motion meant to induce vomiting. Tears of effort pricked the corners of his eyes and gushed down his sunken, overheated cheeks. His shoulders heaved, rattling with sobs.
“Where is the sedative?” The Forbanne guard, Gunnar, who was hastily working to lash Alster around the waist by additional straps, addressed Elespeth mid-task. “You have it. Give it to him!”
“We can’t,” Kadri, who was readjusting the straps on their ward’s arms and legs, argued. “He said not to, Gunnar.”
“Are we trusting the word of a man we have to restrain!?” His incredulous voice mounted. “If he keeps this up, he’s going to vomit, choke on his vomit, and die!”
Hesitating, Kadri glanced askance at Elespeth. “It’s not our decision. It’s her decision. What do you want to do?”
In a brief moment of clarity, Alster, moaning for his wife’s attention, stretched out the fingers of his left hand, entreating her to take hold. As she did, his blurry, tear-strewn eyes fought to capture her gaze. Whatever you do, don’t let go.
They collectively decided to forgo the sedative, under the condition that they call for a healer to oversee Alster’s unstable condition throughout the night. Gunnar volunteered to fetch the Gardeners next door, but amid traversing the hallway, he came across Elias instead.
“Full disclosure; tending to an unruly patient is not my strong suit,” the Clematis healer informed the guards and Elespeth as he walked into the room and observed the convulsive Rigas caster surge to new heights of hysteria, squirming to free himself of Elespeth’s hand. “As Alster’s wife, you are better equipped at calming him to the point where he will either exhaust himself to sleep or cease struggling altogether. Failing that,” he nodded to the box containing the syringe, which Elespeth had set aside on the end table, “we will have to administer the sedative. For his safety. Either way--it is going to be a long night.”
“Yeah, well, luck has no memory. Chance has no memory. This is why imbeciles can lose their entire fortune when betting on horses and warriors. Just because you’ve won once or a hundred times doesn’t make it a sure thing.” Elespeth sighed despondently into her ale. “The last time Alster lost himself, it wasn’t me who brought him back--it was you, remember? You scared the living daylights out of him enough for the Serpent to recede to wherever the hell it came from and made way for my husband to return to himself. I had nothing to do with it except for the fact I’d caused it!”
Dejectedly, she rubbed the back of her neck and stared at the stained woodgrain of the table. “And I caused it again. He split into two because I wasn’t around when we brought him back from the netherrealms the first time; I avoided him. I was angry about what he’d put me through--what he’d put all of us through. Summoning the Serpent, disappearing… I literally had to fucking die just to bring him back. Wasn’t it within my rights to be angry? But that was the problem. I was angry at a time when I should have been understanding… and now this. Not only have I lost the better part of my husband without any reassurance that I can get him back, but now he’s a danger to more than just himself. The Alster we have now… I don’t think he’ll stop at Locque. He’s driven by revenge, and he will do absolutely anything in his power to secure that revenge. If anyone stands in his way… I know he won’t hesitate to burn them in his line of fire.”
He was on to something, though: the current Alster did fear her. He resisted her proximity and her touch. And all this time, she’d been sleeping and wrecking her body on the hard floor to respect those boundaries that he’d put up… but why? Why was she playing to the current Alster’s wishes? “Yeah; he does fear my touch. He won’t come near me if he can help it; he’s tried, but it’s all fake. I can tell, he can’t fool me with his bullshit. He’s only pretending that he’s getting better, but I can see it in his eyes, it’s like… I’m toxic to him. And… I don’t know. It just hurts to see that. I don’t want to see pain and disgust when I touch him. So I haven’t been. Maybe that’s exactly why he hasn’t been making any progress. Damnit, Hadwin--how is it that someone with the most questionable decision-making skills can see exactly what needs to be done when it matters most?” She half smiled and half-groaned. No wonder the man was so infuriating: he knew what to say when circumstances were dire, but any other time of the day, he was hardly worth listening to.
“Now, this is all assuming that he won’t get… you know. Violent. Not that I can’t take him on, but I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want the Forbanne guards to harm him on accident. And I’m not confident that I’d even be able to force bodily contact on him for long. I’m pretty sure my range of motion has been reduced by at least half, thanks to that damned floor.” She rubbed her lower back as she stood. “Maybe walking it off will help.”
Just as soon as she stood, Hadwin suggested he also be of help in the domain of sore muscles… which of course earned him a leary glance from the ex-knight. “...really, Hadwin? You want to go there?” Remembering the last time he had been ‘good with his hands’ brought a deep flush to her face. Definitely not a moment she had been proud of, and yet… since then, she’d somehow found it far easier to be in Hadwin’s presence. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that she (quite literally) had nothing left to hide from the faoladh, who already had strong insights into her darker and more despondent thoughts. But the morally questionable man somehow managed to reassure her of his innocent intentions, and after a silent debate with herself, she sighed and turned her back to him. “...fine. Only because I’m tired of the shooting pains when I move my arms…”
Elespeth should have guessed that a former bread maker would have been good at working knots out of muscles. Sure hurt like hell when he targeted the clusters of knots holding in the tension, but a few of them did release, and with them, the tight, sharp pains that they had been triggering. While she was far from one-hundred percent back to herself a few moments later, she was still better than she’d been before, and Hadwin had a point: the absolute last thing she needed were rumours circulating that she was committing adultery with the most promiscuous individual in the entire kingdom.
Agreeing that it was best to take a walk while there was still sunlight, the ex-Atvanian left with the wolf, and couldn’t help but lend an ear due to their proximity, and the fact that he saw fit to bring it up. “Hadwin… I know you’re going to hate this idea. But Teselin listens to you; she trusts you, implicitly. Do you think… that it might be necessary not to go along with her ideas?” She shot him a worried side-glance and shook her head. “I get it; you don’t want to upset her. She’s trying so hard to cling to hope and… and it can be fucking dangerous when she gets upset. But this desire to set everything and everyone right is not conducive to our efforts to try and free this kingdom from a very old threat. Locque is… what, two centuries old? If no one has managed to get through to her as of yet, what chance does she really have? I can’t speak for Rowen, but given what I know of her, and what you have said… well, I’m sorry I don’t have any counter points to offer. But--promise me you’ll think about it? Of breaking the news to Teselin that not everyone is redeemable? You’ll be helping her in the end by not feeding into her delusions, and Hadwin… we cannot shelter her forever, out of fear of what might happen if she gets upset. That is something that she will need to learn to control, for her sake and for everyone else’s. By being a safe messenger of disappointment…” She sighed and tried to flash a half smile. “Think of it as letting her down gently. She’ll be upset, yes, but she will have you around for support… and I know that she would never willingly put you in danger. Think about it. Because, unfortunately…” She looked off into the distance, her gaze hardening. “It is about time we referred to our enemies as enemies.”
What happened next, following her eventual return to Alster’s temporary holding, happened so quickly that Elespeth had a difficult time grasping exactly what was going on. One moment, Alster was kissing her--likely another attempt to gain her trust and convince her that he was whole again, although the former knight knew better. But the next, he was both pulling away from her… all the while desperate that she not pull away, herself. What was going on? Was this… was the inner Alster, the true Alster, finally breaching the gap and reemerging in the waking world? “Alster…” For a moment, she was too dumbstruck to react, until her husband’s plea was suddenly followed by a very visceral and violent reaction.
“Alster…!” Of course, she was back on him in moments. She grabbed him by the arms to still his writhing form. “Alster… Alster, is that you? You need to fight this; you need to come through! I know that you can!” But he was thrashing so violently, throwing his body up against the wall, that ultimately she alone couldn’t hold him off, and required the assistance of Kadri and the other Forbanne guard to restrain him. “He said… he said to tie him up,” she gasped, as they hauled the resisting caster back to his bed. “I think he’s coming through--he’s starting to reconnect, but he isn’t there yet. Help me restrain him!”
For all Alster was not a particularly big person, it required the three of them to hail him back to his bed and to secure him with the restraints. Not that it did much; he still thrashed his body, determined to harm himself as the two parts of him battled for control. Elespeth had to use her body to pin him just to keep him still. “No sedatives! This is a breakthrough… he needs to be awake to work through it!” She insisted, a suggestion that Kadri likewise agreed with. “Go fetch a healer, quickly! We cannot sedate him, but neither can we let him hurt himself!”
She saw the hand reaching for her, and took that hand, lacing her fingers through his. “I am not going anywhere.” Her green eyes bored into his blue ones. To the Alster that desperate sought to find his way to the surface, it was a reassurance; to the one fighting his better half, it was both a threat, and a promise. “Not until I have you back; do you understand? I will not go away.”
And she didn’t. Not even when reinforcement in the form of Elias stepped into the room to witness what looked like the most bizarre wrestling match between the husband and wife. “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t ask you to restrain him even if I thought you could,” the former knight gasped. Despite that Alster’s struggle was more within himself than it was with her, what she was doing still felt akin to both fighting someone off, while simultaneously trying to break apart a scuffle between two individuals. Elespeth already looked exhausted. “We can’t sedate him--he needs to fight this off. He needs to come through to himself, again. If I need to stay in this position all night… then I will.”
It wasn’t as if she had much of a choice, but at least she had not only two Forbanne guards, as well as Elias as back-up, should something go wrong. “I mean what I said.” She murmured in Alster’s ear, the weight of her body holding him steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Elias was right; it was a long night, and none of them got much sleep. The two Forbanne guards took two-hour long shifts each, and Elespeth invited Elias to nap in her mess of blankets and pillows on the floor, since there was no need for him to stay awake unless it was necessary. Everyone had predicted that Alster would run out of steam and exhaust himself at some point, and that did eventually come to pass in the wee hours of morning. Elespeth wasn’t sure that he slept, but neither did she sleep, too focused on the movements (or lack thereof) of her husband’s body, in case she was lulled into a false sense of security and he chose to act up again. Rest wasn’t an option, and the night felt like the longest she had ever had to endure. She counted the minutes before the hours, and could only be sure of morning by counting the shifts between the two Forbanne guards who continually switched out. Her eyes were still open, albeit puffy and dark and red around the rims when the Clematis healer finally awoke from his own fitful sleep.
“I think he’s finally fallen asleep…” She explained, her voice raw and scratchy from lack of rest. Alster’s eyes had been closed, his body unmoving and his breathing slow and deep for some time, now. “I’m just not sure… which Alster I’ll be talking to when he opens his eyes. If it is the wrong one, I don’t trust myself not to be fooled… he’s getting better at mimicking the Alster we all know. I’m too tired to be sure...”
Only time would tell, however, and for the time being, she had some needs to take care of. Promising to return shortly, Elespeth left to find a private place to empty her bladder as well as stretch her legs, which, now along with the rest of her body, ached and strained from committing to the same uncomfortable position for an entire night (the floor would have been more comfortable…). She wasn’t sure what time of day it was, but the palace was already awake and alive, and she felt like a sleepwalker passing the staff through the corridors at half the pace. When she finally made her way back, she glanced at Elias and gestured at the door.
“Thank you for coming and lending your aid; even if it was only supervising,” she said to him, and all but collapsed at the foot of Alster’s bed. “You should go and get some actual rest. If anything dire arises, we will be sure to notify you or Daphni.”
As the Clematis healer nodded his understanding and left, Elespeth looked upon her husband’s sleeping form, and gently untied the gag from around his mouth. There was no need for it in his slumber. “I don’t know who you are going to be when you wake up…” She sighed, rubbing at her own sleep-deprived eyes. “But I hope you’re my Alster. I don’t know… how much longer I can go hoping you will come back to me.”
Pressing a kiss to his forehead, she laid down on the small amount of space next to him, and rolled onto her side. Another couple of inches and she would fall off the bed (it wasn’t particularly suited to more than one body, and his limbs were bound to it), but she had made a promise she intended to keep. And if he were to awake without her being there… what would that do to him? I said I’m not going anywhere. I mean it. Ignoring the sharp pains in her shoulders and neck, she closed her eyes, and was fast asleep in moments.
For Alster, the night wore on relentlessly, an infinitude of suffering not unlike his perpetual tumble through the ether-realms, the very same venture that compromised his soul in the first place. The illusion of hours crumbled, revealing the unforgiving eyes of eternity, which captured and held Alster in a glare of containment. Thus trapped, all development in the outside world froze, barring him from everything but for the war within himself, a war that would not cease until one rose the victor. Neither half vowing to surrender, a grandiose tug of war ensued, and tied around the middle of the rope, a prize: his soul.
Amid the everlasting heave-ho in a place beyond reaching, one tenuous connection ran its silver strand from the stygian cosmos and attached to his stomach, an ethereal umbilical cord and shining reminder that the battle needn’t be fought alone. In the physical realms, Elespeth was there, grabbing his hand, grounding him, lending her support as sword and shield, even from afar. Although their opponent was no enemy, he needed vanquishing, lest he crack the vulnerable, nubile surface where the soul had reassimilated, and split it anew. In this critical moment, their enemy was not Locque, but himself. Like Locque, it was a half disinterested in talking or in compromise, too stubborn to accept reason as currency. At this stage, the only way to win was by force. Which half reigned stronger? Which half could ably defeat the other?
Elespeth, he called upon her unconscious spirit, her presence, to stand at his side and mount an all-out offensive. We fight together. He may overwhelm me, but he can’t overwhelm you and me combined. Please...lend me your strength.
Through their union, they rallied the aid of his namesake, the twin stars. A light carved through the abyssal darkness; a light of purification, its pulse, bolstered by two perfectly syncopated heartbeats, operated at twice the power. Sunlight blared upon the opposing half of Alster’s soul, its glare too unforgiving to allow the stains of darkness to persist. The star-cleanse, unavoidable and undodgeable, buffed desperately-clinging shadows until spotless. Thus thwarted, the stubborn half, breathless and drained of any remaining fight, quietly surrendered, and allowed the soul to stay whole.
Alster didn’t awaken from his literal dark night of the soul until mid-afternoon the following day, having exhausted himself into a mini coma. When he opened his bleary eyes, the harshness of the witchlights floating from above induced a sharpness so acute, he felt as though glass shards were abrading his brain at impossible angles. A low moan emitted from his throat. Free of his gag, he was able to move his tongue, reduced so to a gritty, sandy dryness that prevented him from swallowing. Twitching his overworked muscles was a mistake; the moment he dared to lift his head, a mass of shivers assailed him in equal parts chill and fire. Everything ached; everything burned, and everything stabbed. Not one to miss out on the fun, his stomach roiled dangerously, a portent promising to expel its contents all over the bed—shortly.
His left hand felt slippery, slick with sweat, insulated by something equally slimy, warm, and...fleshy. With care, he traced his gaze to the shape reclining in his periphery. Elespeth lay beside him, her chest rising and falling, fingers entwined with his own.
“Elespeth,” he whispered. He didn’t mean to wake her, but the smallest of sounds stirred her attention and jolted her awake. Expecting the worst, she flew upright and twisted towards him in a panic. In the tumult, their hands disconnected.
“Elespeth,” he repeated, his throat too sore to speak at a volume louder than a rustle. “It’s ok, now. It’s over.” But his reassuring words did little to convince her. “You don’t have to believe me. I realize it might take a while to rebuild the trust I broke.” His stomach flipped. To delay the inevitable, he breathed carefully through the nauseous build-up, taking ample breaks between each uttered phrase. “I’m sorry...I’m so sorry. I’ve done everything wrong.” His eyes filled with tears he couldn’t afford. “I’m not looking for forgiveness. I’ve hurt you too much to be forgiven. I only want to give my gratitude. Thank you. Thank you for your strength. Thank you,” he tearfully met her green eyes, “for not letting go of me.”
“I hate to ask for this so soon, but,” his limbs trembled in their leather bindings, “can you undo my restraints? I’m going to vomit and I can’t,” he sucked in a breath, “can’t hold it in anymore.” Sensing his honesty, in addition to the fact that he was too weak and ill to attack, Elespeth removed his bonds, helped him sit upright, and fetched him a bedpan. Just in time; the moment she deposited it on his lap, he reared forward and vomited so violently, it racked his frail body into spasms. After several cycles had passed, and he’d practically emptied the meagre contents of his stomach, Alster, panting from the exertion, flopped backward to rest on his pillow. Though his body screamed for water, he couldn’t rise or drink without assistance. Even as Elespeth supported the back of his head and pressed the rim of the water tin against his lips, he could only take a few tentative sips before spluttering into a fit of coughs.
“Let’s call this my punishment,” he managed between choking coughs. Unable to accept another sip, he very gently shook his feverish head and sank into the bed, burrowing beneath layers of sheets. “I strayed so far. I strayed and...kept straying...and where did it lead us? Are we alive? Or did I drag you to hell?” He closed his feverbright eyes, resisting the urge to ramble out disorganized thoughts egged along by borderline delirium. He failed. “Please tell me I didn’t. I wanted to be...better. I tried so hard to be better, El. Why do I keep doing this? Why do I keep damning you?” Biting down on his lip, he suppressed a sob. “Lock me in this room. For as long as it’s fitting. Until I learned my lesson. Lock me in darkness. Mother was right. That’s where I belong. Out in the world, I’m nothing but a raging disappointment. I’ll stay here. Everyone’s safe if I stay here. You, especially. You’re safe...from me.”
If there was one positive takeaway from his overnight episode, it was that he was too emotionally and physically spent to repeat any of his previously damaging behaviors. Instead, he quietly wept and shuddered into funereal stillness, preferring sleep to consciousness—granted, if sleep would give him shelter from the ruins of his ravaged self.
Sleep came, but it did him no favors. He dreamt he stood in a dark room, the dark room, the very same favored by Debine Rigas whenever he erred or made an unacceptable misstep during his grueling magical instruction. “You waste my time, Alster,” she snapped, her hand clutching the door, ready to slam it in his pathetic face. “You rotten child; you deliberately disobey. For all your impetuousness, I should fashion you a room here. Evidently, you enjoy spending your days in darkness!”
“Mother,” he clasped his hands together, supplicating, “I’ll do better, I promise. Just don’t close the door. There’s no windows; there’s no light. I don’t like it here. Please don’t let me stay here. I don’t want to be alone!”
“You should have thought of that before you disobeyed,” her eyes narrowed into pinpoints.
“But I didn’t disobey!”
“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!”
“I’m not!”
“That’s it!” Her voice rumbled, commanding him into sniffling silence. “You are to stay in this room, Alster. You will stay...and never leave. Monsters belong in cages, and yours will be enrobed in the very miasma from whence you came. This is what you owe to humanity. Sleep with the Serpent and do not lay a hand on these good people. They don’t need your help. No one needs your help.”
He shook his head emphatically. “No, Mother, you’re...you’re wrong! I’m not...I’m not a monster!”
“You haven’t proven me wrong yet.” From her pocket, she withdrew a small hand mirror and, casting a ball of etherea to illuminate it, held it out for him to see. When he looked at the reflection, the blood-soaked creature staring back was unrecognizable...and distinctly him.
...This is who I am.
Elias returned later that afternoon. Accompanied by two Gardeners, he crouched by Alster’s bedside, listening to Elespeth’s descriptions of his condition as he pressed a hand to the burning patient’s forehead. “This comes at no surprise,” he said, standing to his full height. “He pushed his body and health to the limit. Already immune-compromised, last night’s event was just the perfect storm needed to invite a virus to latch and take hold. Normally, I would suggest he recuperate in the sanctuary, but seeing as we do not yet wish to risk reintroducing magic to his system, we’ll closely monitor his condition from here. Fortunately, this bout of illness is not life-threatening. So not to agitate his overactive stomach, it is best not to hook him to the feeding tubes. We’ll make certain he receives plenty of water and proper medicine, so in the meantime, if you wish to step out and get some fresh air,” he waved to the door, “please do so. Your health is also paramount, and I daresay Alster, if he is the Alster we know, will lament if you fell ill and will most assuredly blame himself.”
If she was planning to protest, Elias’ correct assessment of her husband’s character convinced her to take a break outside the sick room. But fearing he’d awaken without her near, she seldom stayed away for long. In the coming days, her proximity didn’t impact him much. Largely unconscious, Alster awakened only to drink water, his fever too pronounced to register much beyond the limited view in his blurry eyes.
Such as how he spent the next few days, bedridden and flush, hot to the touch and overtaken by an universal ache that produced an unyielding rigor. During brief moments of lucidity, his fingers quested for Elespeth; she, the one remaining constant and lifeline throughout his ongoing ordeal.
On day four, his fever finally broke, releasing him from the third purgatory experienced since visiting Locque in the ether-realms. Upon awakening, he rolled over and groped for the tin of water at his bedside. At his summons, the cool container hit his fingertips. But it was not magic that delivered the water. Blinking out of his fugue, he realized just who had given him the cup.
“Elespeth.” Gratefully accepting the water, he carefully shimmied his shoulders against the headboard to achieve a limited form of erectness. Tipping the cup to his lips, he sloshed the welcome liquid down his throat, taking care not to choke. While drinking, he caught something shiny from the corner of his eye. On the end table where the decanter of water rested, his wedding band, which had tumbled out of his hand during the struggle to preserve soul cohesion, had been returned to its former spot. Handing the empty water tin to Elespeth, he made an incremental shift towards the table and managed to pluck the ring from the surface. “I took this off in haste,” he said, watching the burnished gold and studded diamonds capture the low burning witchlights above his head. “It was reactionary. I wasn’t...I wish I could take back what I said. Though I was effectively split in two, the me who dominated my body is the me who comprises my soul. Deep down, I harbor resentments. Deep down, I’m unkind, divisive...manipulative. It’s possible the reason I determinedly stride forward to assist people is because if I didn’t hasten to help, if I didn’t hasten at all, then I would allow indifference to deafen me to everyone’s pleas. Perhaps I never truly cared for others. I was merely going through the motions...to win their love and admiration.”
“Do you feel that way, Elespeth?” He raised his wishful gaze, searching her eyes for the answer. “Am I using your love to satisfy some quota? Are you on a checklist? Is our relationship manufactured? A farce created by me because I so yearned to feel loved?” His shoulders slumped on the headboard, barely keeping him upright. “I’m convinced this is real because I am desperate to believe it’s real. We’ve been through too much to discount our relationship as a ploy on my part. Nonetheless, I fear I’m...not genuine. I’m terrified, Elespeth. What if the person you love is predominantly the person you’ve seen and interacted with these past few weeks? What if he is my ultimate truth, and this current persona I project is a surface-level nicety? A false creation, meant to appeal to the greatest common denominator?” The thought alone caused him to shudder. “I...don’t have the answer, El. But what I do know...is that I wish to return this ring to my finger. That is, if you will have me. If I haven’t damaged our relationship beyond repair.”
He transferred the ring into her open palm. “I leave it to you. If you believe my intentions are pure, that they’ve always been pure, then slot this ring where it belongs. If you are in doubt, feel free to do with the ring what you will. I’ll respect your decision. Don’t choose out of pity, either. Out of fear that rejecting me will transform me into a monster. Maybe it’s my true form...and I’ve been denying it all along. Maybe...I was always meant to be a monster. If so,” he reached for a leather binding dangling from the bedpost, “I’ll accept my cage...indefinitely.”
Although Elespeth had been asleep in seconds from her body curling up next to Alster’s upon the bed, her sleep was fitful, and she was never unconscious for more than a few moments at a time. Everything stirred her awake: noise from outside the room, every audible breath that her husband drew, every half an inch he shifted in his slumber. Even noises that she imagined stirred her blessed and necessary rest: recalling Alster’s struggle, how he raised his voice, that one-sided fight all played back in her mind and in her ears, startling her into upright positions and jolting her heart into such a pace she might as well have been running. This pattern occurred for hours and hours, until the former knight was no longer sure of whether she was asleep or awake, of reality from dreams. Every time she closed her eyes, her mind conjured images of Alster--the Alster she feared--breaking his binds and finding ways to leave the room, to leave her behind.
Each and every time her body stirred, she spent a handful of seconds trying to discern if it was really happening, or if whatever had upset her fitful slumber was in fact all in her head. Such was the case when Alster did, at last, awaken. Elespeth sat bolt upright, her eyes half-lidded and her head dizzy for the umpteenth rude awakening. She stared at her husband, whose broken and strained voice tried to convince her that it was all over. Who apologized so profusely in a way that was uniquely Alster that she was almost inclined to believe him… almost. But then again, she had also been inclined to believe him, even for a moment, when he had kissed her that he was finally coming through… and that had been a ruse. A trick, to convince her to let her guard down.
She would not be tricked again. “How do I know?” Her voice, weak from exhaustion, sounded nearly as strained as his. Had it been wise to remove the gag so soon? “How do I know… this isn’t another trick? Among all of the other tricks you have pulled this week, to try and convince me to let you out of here?”
But this was different than before; notably different. The Alster from before, that ill-advised half, had been good with pretending, good with words, but terrible when it came to exhibiting genuine emotion. That Alster hadn’t ever come close to shedding a tear; couldn’t do it for the life of him without reconnecting with his other half. And that was precisely how Elespeth, for the first time in a week, was sure that this was different. Was sure that she was, in fact, speaking with her husband, the man she loved, and not some revenge-driven Alster. This Alster--her Alster--was not ashamed of crying in front of her.
For the first time in over a week, the ex-Atvanian suddenly felt wide awake. “Alster.” She breathed his name, a shaky relief on a sigh. “Is it… really you? You are yourself, again?” Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, as well. Whether for the overwhelming emotion of the fact she was speaking to her Alster, or for sheer exhaustion, it didn’t matter, and she couldn’t care less for the droplets trickling down her cheeks. “Alright… it’s alright. Let me help you.”
As quickly as her clumsy fingers could (her dexterity was terribly offset from exhaustion), Elespeth loosened the leather that bound his wrists and helped him to sit up, retrieving the bed pan just in time for him to expel the contents of his stomach. Sensing that he was likely feeling weak and light-headed from exhaustion, she reached for a decanter of water, filled a tin cup, and angled it against his lips. When he had managed to take several sips and got his breathing under control, she helped to pile the pillows up against his back to prop him up. “It really… it is you, this time, isn’t it?” An exhausted albeit relieved smile touched her lips. “Then it… worked. I did everything you told me to do, and you’re back. Gods, I am so relieved, Alster. I thought… I was beginning to worry that you were lost to me, forever. Stuck inside our dreams. But Hadwin was right--why is that sonofabitch always right when it matters?” She barked out a laugh that hurt her throat. “I never should have doubted us. We’re bound… too tightly to lose each other, at this point. I should have known… for all we’ve been through, I have no excuse to doubt us.”
When he had drunk all that he possibly could in the moment, Elespeth cleared the bed of the bedpan and the cup of water and wrapped her arms around her husband’s shoulders. “We’re not in hell--you haven’t done anything. We are both here. I am here, and I am… I am not going anywhere. Alster, what happened to you… it wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. It was mine.” The former knight expelled a shaky breath and sat herself up beside him. “I wasn’t there when you needed me most. I was angry and was being too selfish to see that you were weak and vulnerable… if I hadn’t left you alone in the sanctuary, this wouldn’t have happened. I should know better by now, Alster. There’s no excuse for what I did… so please, stop blaming yourself. No one else blames you. I most certainly don’t.”
Alster wasn’t looking for explanations or reassurances right now, however. He was weak and exhausted, and he needed to expel those dark feelings, to get them off his chest in a safe and controlled environment, which Elespeth was happy to provide. When he had run out of tears, he gradually fell asleep, slumped against her and the pillows, and didn’t even stir when she shifted his body to a resting position and slung an arm across him for comfort. He’d be alright; he just needed to wake up again, to see her there, to see that she hadn’t left, and everything would begin to fall into place for them. It always did; it always had.
The ex-Atvanian, beyond weary herself, was likewise not long for the waking world once she lay down next to Alster’s sleeping form. As before, her slumber was fitful, only spanning a handful of moment at a time before anything and everything rudely awoke her. At some point during the afternoon, it was the temperature in the room that prevented her from any form of restful sleep, but upon closer inspection, Elespeth was quick to realize it had little to do with the room itself, and everything to do with her husband’s sleeping form. Alster’s temperature must have climbed in his slumber to a worrying degree; certainly something that did not come as a shock, considering what his body had been through. Shaking herself fully awake, Elespeth only left long enough to retrieve Elias to assess her husband’s condition. Fortunately, the Clematis healer did not think it was anything so serious as to warrant concern.
“You don’t think we should move him to the sanctuary? Or even the infirmary?” Truth be told, she was hesitant to make that move, herself. Alster--her Alster--had not been back for very long. What if he wasn’t stable enough to leave this room? What if that other half of him took over, as soon as he regained full access to his magic? “If… if you think he will be safe here, then I will watch over him. If anything changes, I’ll let you know. But I shouldn’t leave; what if he wakes up, and I’m not here?”
Of course, the healer had the sense to remind her that if she, too, were to grow ill, then she wouldn’t be able to look after him at all. With that small but of common sense, it did encourage her to leave the room from time to time, but not often, and never for long. Long enough to attend to her own bodily needs or to bring more water or fresh sheets. Sleep was still elusive for her in the days that followed, as her concern for her husband had far from lessened. The aches and pains in her body did not subside, despite moving from sleeping on the floor next to Alster on the bed. So caught up in her care for Alster, Elespeth wasn’t aware of how her own health was slipping, and how her flushed skin could no longer be attributed to laying near her feverish husband, or how her sore limbs, joints, and muscles could not be blamed on poor sleeping arrangements, as she had been sleeping in a bed for the better part of a week. True to Elias’s suspicions, and as a result for not entirely heeding his warning, the former knight who was already highly susceptible to sharing in her husband’s aliments had indeed caught the sickness that afflicted his body. Of course, none of that mattered in the face of stern denial.
Sitting with a straight spine at the foot of the bed, Elespeth did not miss a beat a few days later when her husband finally began to shake the aliment to which his body had succumbed. He was able to sit upright on his own, and his eyes were no longer feverbright. “Alster… here.” She already had a cup full of cool water in her hand before he could request it, and gladly passed it to him. “You need to stop worrying. I don’t hold you accountable for anything that happened these past few weeks. You weren’t yourself, and… honestly, neither was I.” Brushing her hair from her flushed face, she reached into her pocket to withdraw her own ring, and slipped it onto her finger again for the first time in weeks. “You were right; well, the ‘other’ you was right. You weren’t the first to remove your ring… I was. And I shouldn’t have. It was hasty and reactive of me, and after everything we have endured, I had no business making such a statement. I don’t… I shouldn’t even be asking you to forgive me. But, I will anyway.”
Taking his hands, she pressed a sigh from her lungs in a breath that felt more laboured than it should. “Nothing between us is manufactured or artificial, Alster. I couldn’t be more certain of this. And maybe… maybe the person I have been seeing really is a part of you; another half that you cannot exist without. But doesn’t that go for us all? Aren’t we all fundamentally flawed in one way or another? Don’t we all have our vices and shortcomings? Don’t you remember… This time, last year. When I ventured from Stella D’Mare, injured and broken and slowing everyone down. How I refused your help. How I… I scorned you, and everyone else, when you deprived me of that stimulant. Can you deny that that Elespeth you saw is not, in fact, a part of me? That she isn’t part of me, to this day?” Of course, she knew the answer as well as he did, and when she smiled, it carried not only fatigue, but sadness and regret. “I couldn’t face the person I was. It made me want to take my life. That other part of me, the Elespeth Tameris that I used to hold in such high regard… that face used to haunt me. To chastise me for what I’ve become. I still see her, from time to time, even though I have come so far since those days. I still don’t know who I am, Alster. Elespeth Rigas, but… what does that even mean? Am I a warrior or am I a mage, now? Do I dare try to become anything beyond your wife?”
Realizing she was not only rambling, but going off on a tangent that led all the way back to her own deep-seated and unresolved insecurities, Elespeth took the ring in his hand and slid it back onto his finger. Exactly where it belonged. “What I am trying to say is… you are not a monster. And that other part of you, the one so overought with revenge that he couldn’t see what really mattered anymore… I loved that person, too. How could I not, Alster? When I chose to marry you, I did not choose to marry only the parts of you that I find the most desirable. People are dynamic, and we do not lock ourselves away for fear that every so often, we will do or say something that we regret… it isn’t realistic. So…” She sighed and looked over her shoulder at the door. It wasn’t locked; it hadn’t been locked for days, since the two halves of Alster had once again merged. “I don’t want you to lock yourself away, forever. Yes, I need the you who can make well-rounded decisions and who would not think to put any ally in harm’s way… but I was not lying when I approached you--the other you--in the Night Garden.”
Turning back, the former knight clutched both of his hands and searched his world-weary eyes. “Locque is not redeemable. And one way or another, she has to go down… we merely must ensure that her downfall is not at anyone else’s expense. Not yours, not Teselin’s, not Lilica’s. So I need you to do something for me, Alster. Keep that determined part of you tempered, but don’t let go of it. You potentially know more about Locque than any of us; you have seen parts of her, present and past, that she does not allow anyone to see. We need you here, and alive and well, because I think you are integral to helping this kingdom survive and return to peace.”
To emphasize her faith in him, Elespeth planted a kiss on his dry lips and cupped his face in her heated palm. When he commented on her temperature with an air of concern, she brushed it off. “I’ve been doing a lot of running around this past week; I guess I keep forgetting to slow down.” A poor excuse for her clammy, flushed skin, but she didn’t have the time to entertain the possibility that she might be ill. “But don’t worry about me. Focus on regaining your strength; you need water, and full meals, and Alster… you need to get out of this room. So, when you’re feeling up to it…” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We will go for a walk, together. While we still have the time, before… before we are forced to surrender.”
Mention of surrender visibly dampened her mood, but it needed to be acknowledged. How long would Locque wait for them to send word that they were ready? At some point, she was going to just up and take what she wanted. “...I need to check in on some things. But I’ll be back later--soon. Please stay strong for me? I mean it, Alster; we can’t do this without you.”
On the promise that she would return as soon as time allowed, Elespeth left with the intent of seeking out one individual in particular--who, as it turned out, was not so difficult to find. “Hadwin.” Not five minutes down the corridor, she ran into the faoladh who, like Alster, commented on her peaky appearance and her more sluggish than normal movements. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just a little run down, alright? Hey--has anything come through on the resonance stone, lately? Any push from Locque’s direction?” As it turned out, a message or two from Nia had come through in the past week. Nothing dire, but the Master Alchemist had informed them that the sorceress was growing impatient, and sooner than later, her means of placating her and maintaining that patience would wear off. He had just been on his way to advise Lilica that it would be a good idea to pull together another meeting sooner than later to prepare for whatever steps they would take in initiating this surrender. Elespeth pressed her mouth into a thin line. “Then we’re running out of time… I don’t think we should surrender when we’re compromised. Alster, I mean; he’s getting back to himself, but… but I think it will be a while, yet. If time really is of the essence… then either we need Locque’s assurance that she will not harm Alster, or we have to keep him out of harm’s way, ourselves. I won’t let her step in and strike him when he is down; but neither would I put it past her to try.”
For all Elespeth’s kind words comforted him, he couldn’t agree with her favorable character assessment. As his wife, a wife literally sickened by worry, of course she would deny the parts of him that had developed so fundamentally wrong over the years; over the decades. By now, his problems had reached beyond the human variety, entering an unknown territory reserved for the otherworldly and unexplained; of ancient beasts, stars, and formless energy beings; of deities, demons, and mages too powerful to exist. He might have begun life with a human foundation, but the foundation now balanced precariously upon Elespeth’s shoulders, and continuing to carry their combined burdens was asking far too much of her. Outside of his damning influence, Elespeth’s struggles were definably human. Stimulant overreliance, broken pride, familial death, questioned identity, suicidal ideations, feelings of unworthiness--they were all parceled within the victuals of life, equipped to everyone at birth. He, on the other hand, dealt in pacts with monsters, attempted genocide, involuntary sojourns through space eternal, and the separation of his soul. His experiences were far from proportionate to the limitations of an earth-bound mortal. In the end, she would never understand...exactly how far he’d fallen from the scope of humanity. Long before they met, he was already fluctuating between the voids of creation and destruction. As per his mother’s claim, he was always meant for greatness--be it a great savior or a great disaster. There was no middle ground for someone not born to be normal.
Thus stood his predicament. His fear. Elespeth served as his minder and protector, as the only reason he could enjoy a human life. And yet, here he was, unable to honor and respect their sacred bonds because magic sometimes pulled harder, reminding him, always reminding him, that idleness was failure. That Elespeth was not his destiny; merely a receptacle for his power, a flowery distraction, and never the end goal. To lose sight of greatness was to selfishly toss away the gift of his birthright, the very reason he was conceived. If he embraced her wholesale, choosing love over magical development, he would never achieve his highest potential.
Yet, out of love for Elespeth, as proof of her importance, he was willing to stay imprisoned. If reconnecting to magic would again transform him into a scion bent on results, damning the people, then he was better off chained. If given the chance, the monster in him would strike, and Elespeth would be the first to pay the price for his misdeeds. For once in his century of life, he welcomed the philosophy of idleness. Do nothing. It’s best for everyone. You’re too broken for responsibility. Elespeth was right. Your ill-informed sacrifices impel others to make sacrifices...for you. Don’t sacrifice...and no one else will need to clean up your mess.
The other half of you won’t like it, the pragmatist warned. Take care not to create an imbalance in the opposite direction. Harmony is paramount. It’s as Elespeth says; don’t abandon your determination.
He wouldn’t. His decision was not a permanent one. But for now, for whatever precious time was afforded to him and his recovery, he was retired.
On his finger, the wedding band hung loose but secure. His body bordered on emaciation, but his left hand remained the least affected. The ring glittered in complement to Elespeth’s own, which she had also affixed to its rightful place.
“I don’t fault you for losing faith in me, El.” He rounded his shoulders, staring at the tousled bedsheets strewn about his twiggy legs. “I’m...a difficult person. I’ve always been difficult. It’s no fault of yours that I’m too fragile to carry on alone. I realize I’m overly-dependent, at times. I ask too much of you. I should be a husband, someone you can rely on, not...a child who can’t handle your anger and resentment without falling apart, and drifting away. You have every right to be angry about what I’ve done. I’m sorry I caused events to escalate to this point, and for throwing you headlong into the storm of my own creation. I’m not trying to raise you on a pedestal, El, but sometimes...I think you’re too good for me. This isn’t to say I’m discounting your flaws; you’re not perfect, and I’m far from it, but,” he took her hand, their bands gently clinking as they made contact, “even when I’m at my worst, monster or otherwise, you always know how to reach me. I may doubt my sincerity, but I can’t doubt you, nor the person I am when I’m with you. I don’t know who I am, either, Elespeth. I’m not easily defined--especially to myself. But together, maybe we can, at the very least, explore our best selves.”
He returned her kiss, but tentatively, aware that she carried symptoms too similar to his virus to be a coincidence. Much as he yearned to enrobe her and not let go, she had had enough of his proximity and he wasn’t keen on crowding her too soon after awakening. “Let me stay where I am. At least, for now. If I’m needed to make a statement and if it absolutely cannot be done outside of this room, then I’ll go. I won’t delay everyone a moment longer. But if it’s not necessary to appear in public, then,” he bit his lip, “I’d prefer to remain here. I’m not ready to face them.” He kicked a loose binding at his feet, “Just for a little while, I want to feel normal. Human-normal, not...my normal. Without magic, I can’t hurt anyone. I can’t disappear. Inside these four walls, no one expects anything of me but to get well and recover. As I am now, I can’t entertain monstrous thoughts because I’m both too weak and I’ve been stripped of my weapon. It’s...a huge comfort to me. It sounds pathetic. It sounds sad...but this is where I want to be.” This is what you owe to humanity, his dream mother’s sentiment’s echoed in his head. No one needs your help. Stay in your cage, monster.
Elespeth, as was her tendency, spoke counter to his mother’s biting remarks: You need to get out of this room. You are integral… And he found that both sides of the scale balanced true. Stay away… Help...Amid the two contradictory strings of advice, the answer lay somewhere in the middle. He resolved to combine the positive and negative and not allow them to grow into opposing forces strong enough to retear the sutures of his newly-stitched soul. Now was not the time to juggle existential complexities. Now was the time to be simple and decisive--one way or another.
And he decided in favor of the cage.
“I will be here when you return. Obviously,” he quirked the tiniest of smiles. As Elespeth rose from the bed, he latched to her hand, stilling her in place. “And El? Please take care of your health. This goes both ways. If you overexert yourself too soon, you’ll find a longer convalescence period in your future. For your sanity--as I know how much you abhor idling in recovery--get plenty of water and rest. I’m to blame for your current state, and I’d hate to see you suffer any further on my account.” Releasing her hand, he sat back, reclining on his pillows. “Stay strong for me, too--and be careful of Elias. Don’t pull one over his head. You won’t be able to fool him; he’ll confine you to a week in the sanctuary out of spite.”
As she left in search of Hadwin, the faoladh popped around the corner of the corridor, as though personally summoned by her will. Judging by his direction, he’d just emerged from an alcove of guest rooms reserved for the Missing Links, an area directly opposite Teselin’s quarters in distance. He was making the long trek en route to annoy Lilica and Chara when Elespeth turned the corner and called for his attention.
“Ah, Elly. You’ve seen better days. But that’s every day for you, innit? Looks like you caught whatever Al’s been carrying.” But she didn’t find him to discuss her health, and he shrugged away his comment. “As a matter of fact,” he took the resonance stone from his pocket and rolled its dark-gray form around his palm, “I heard from her the other day. She’s sent a few messages since Al’s been having violent soul-bearing sessions with himself. By the way, glad to hear he’s on the up and up. Whaddaya tell you?” He elbowed Elespeth in the ribs; a gentle poke and nothing harsh. “Doubt your intuition all you want, but doubt mine, and you’re gonna have a bad time. You owe me a drink. Several, in fact. But best have it when you’re not packing heat of the fever variety. Geez, it’s radiating off you like the sun. Slosh down some water, will you?” he fanned his hand in an exaggerated gesture to cool down.
“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, returning to the subject at hand, “Nia’s messages ain’t nothing too surprising. Locque’s getting short on patience. We got a thinly-veiled warning not to test her--not like her warnings are getting old-hat or anything--and I said, ‘Well it’s a good thing your Lady fucked herself over by flinging Wonderboy into space. Now she’s gotta fucking wait.’ Course, Nia’s the sole recipient and she filters my messages, so who knows what Locque hears in response? But,” his fingers folded over the stone, “I’m taking precautions and heading over to Queen and Lady so we can talk logistics. It’s been two weeks since we put everything on hold and our Lady of Many Masks is the spiteful and impulsive sort. We gotta make some concessions before she blows up and takes the palace by force or some shit.” He tilted his head to one side. “Wanna come along?”
Head still tilted, he listened to her suggestions, as well as her conversation with Alster, whose refusal to leave the room for the time being presented some further complications on how best to move forward. “Yeah, I ain’t too hot on Locque roaming the palace while your beau’s vacationing in a room warded to suppress his magic. Even with two Forbanne guarding his arse, he’s a sitting duck for assassination. Good thing he ain’t entirely stupid. If you said he’ll step out if necessary...well, this is pretty damn necessary. Let ‘im step out and then destroy the room’s warding sigils. Unless you wanna do this with finesse and not all sneaky-sneaky like before...then just keep reasoning with him. While you do that, I’ll buy us some more time.” He brought the stone to his lips and called for Nia. The ‘mouth’ of the stone glowed a cobalt blue in activation, the distinct color signature of Alster’s magic. Within moments, a garbled, but audible voice spoke out of the stone, its gritty, rugged texture characteristic of how a rock would sound like if it could talk. Such was the quirk of using resonance stones; everyone was filtered to sound like some kind of golem.
“Heya, Nia. Got an important update for you so listen up.” He leaned against the wall, nestling into a little depression created to display a single, decorative vase, raised on a plinth. Nothing said luxury like a recess that served no practical purpose than to flaunt a piece of pottery. So as not to alert passersby in the hallway, he lowered his volume, as he’d technically not been permitted to make decisions without first consulting the queen. But seeing as no one had commandeered the resonance stone from him, they’d more or less given him the jurisdiction to act on his own. How was that for trust? “Good news. Our boy, Alster Rigas, is snapping back and he should be on his feet in, say, a few days. Three or four, thereabouts. As you know, recovery’s not an exact science, and we’re concerned that if we open the doors for Locque, she’s gonna pick him off while he’s weak and defenseless. Since he’s not surrendering, he’s fair game, yeah? And now that they’ve got history, it wouldn’t be so out of order to kill her opposition, especially as she’ll have her run of the place. So you can understand our reasons for postponing surrender. If we could have her word--something concrete, not a hand wave of indifference or roundabout language--that she’ll lay off the Rigas, then the three to four day window I gave you? It’ll be a done deal. We’ll move forward, no more interruptions.” As he chatted, he traced the gold-leaf patterns on the obscenely-expensive vase. “But you gotta convince us her word is golden; otherwise, it’s an empty promise, and we’re not breaking bread on an empty promise. Sure, she can rescind our peace-talks and fucking storm the place, but her precious Galeyns are gonna die in the crossfire, and she’ll be the Queen of Corpses--which kinda clashes with her whole, ‘I wanna peacefully retire in my homeland’ aesthetic. Unless she’s advocating for genocide, which is just in bad taste. So...let’s make this surrender happen on terms we can all agree on. No one wants a bloody mess.”
Deactivating the stone and slipping it into his pocket, he moved out of the recess and turned to face Elespeth. “There. That’s done. I’ll head on over to Queen and Lady and give ‘em an update. Now, I asked before if you wanted to come but it’s better off you got some shut-eye. You can cuddle up to your beau and drink it in. There’s time. Not a whole lot, so take advantage while you can.” As he retreated down the hallway in farewell, he stopped mid-stride and looked over his shoulder at Elespeth. “Ah, right. What you said about Tes, before… our ideologies clash, Elly. She trusts me, but I can talk her down for hours and she’s not gonna budge or break her ironclad faith one bit. The more you try and challenge her convictions, the more she stubbornly holds fast to them. You’ve seen this play out first-hand. There’s no reasoning with her once her mind’s made up on a course of action. She’s gotta see it through, come hell or high water. It’s simultaneously admirable and really annoying.” There’s a way to stop her, the jeering shadow with her glass shard teeth jeered.
I’m not using my Fearsight on her, he snapped. That’s a fucking given.
“Locque might not be redeemable, but she ain’t all death and destruction. I wager Nia’ll sweet-talk her a bit. We’ll see, Elly!” With a hand to his forehead in salute, Hadwin parted from Elespeth and took off down the hallway.
Elespeth had to give Hadwin credit, when he said he would get something done, it was neither a ruse or a lie. She couldn’t help but be impressed that he was not only taking her concern for Alster’s safety seriously, but that he acted on it and addressed it immediately with Locque’s emissary. It had crossed her mind once or twice to be concerned for the fact that the faoladh was the only one with the means of direct contact to Nia, by virtue of that, Locque, but her ever-evolving opinion of him was beginning to lean more and more toward the favourable side each and every time she noted that he not only had a sense of responsibility, but that he took that responsibility seriously. Alster’s safety and life was not a bargaining point: either Nia could guarantee that he would go untouched, or they were going to have problems.
However, his tendency to continually concede to the young summoner’s wishes was becoming a little bit concerning. Before Teselin had decided there was a slim chance that she might be able to ‘save’ whatever good was left in Locque, Hadwin hadn’t hesitated to condemn the bloodthirsty sorceress. She couldn’t be sure if it was that Teselin was capable of swaying him to see her way, or that he chose not to bother contradicting her, for fear of the consequences. “But you know it’s wrong, deep down. You know that Teselin is wrong, Hadwin.” Her voice was low, but not accusatory. Instead, it just sounded sadm as if she, too, wished it could be true. “I was there--you were there. You saw Locque, you heard her. She has no remorse, she made it clear that she will do absolutely anything within her power to make sure she gets what she wants. Even if that means letting Rowen rip you to pieces. You’re not okay with that, right? Please tell me you’re not so keen in running toward your own destruction, again… And how much faith are you really going to put in that Master Alchemist? Do you really think for a moment that she won’t bend to Locque’s will at the drop of a hat?”
The former knight shook her head and pressed a hand to her forehead. She was sweating; maybe he and Alster had a point, and it would be better to confine herself to bed for a few days before Elias asserted control over her health… “You know she’s got her own agenda. Working for Locque because it is some means to an end for her. I don’t like any of this, Hadwin. Not the surrender… nothing. But at the same time… I don’t have any alternative solutions.” With a heavy sigh, she pushed tresses of errant brown hair away from her flushed face and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go hash out logistics with Chara and Lilica, then. They should know that Alster is recovering slowly but surely, as well.”
She followed Hadwin down the corridor, trying best to match his brisk, long-legged pace with more difficulty than she’d anticipated. Typically, she had no trouble keeping up with anyone at any given time, but she could feel her heart race just from the effort of not falling behind. At one point, she even grabbed his elbow to try and slow him down. “Have you always walked like you’re about to sprint?” The ex-Atvanian gasped, her chest already heaving from exertion. “Yeah, I get it--I’m kind of under the weather. But you still walk as fast as you run… cut me a break, will you?” They found the Galeynian Queen and her advisor conferring with some of the Forbanne guards towards the entrance of the palace, asking for the routine account of whether they or their fellow soldiers had noticed anything that might suggest Locque was tired of waiting for their surrender and was preparing to strike. It sounded as though the sorceress was continuing to lay low, that neither she nor any of her goons (those under her control, or otherwise) had been seen, at least nowhere near the city proper. This was far from reassuring, considering that lack of evidence of the sorceress meant that whatever she was planning, she was managing to keep tightly under wraps. Was she patiently awaiting surrender, or was there an alternative plan brewing because she was losing faith in the palace keeping to their decision to yield peacefully?
It was rather fortunate that Elespeth and Hadwin should run into them, then, to clarify some of those questions that had been weighing on their minds and causing them to lose precious sleep (for Lilica, at the very least; the dark mage appeared paler than usual, her eyes half-lidded and looking almost as wan as Elespeth). They didn’t have to ask what the faoladh and the ex-knight were up to before Elespeth briefly filled them in on Alster’s condition, and Hadwin followed up with the most recent news from Nia, along with his not so subtle ‘suggestion’ that the Master Alchemist make Locque promise not to lay a finger on the already compromised Alster Rigas. A timeframe of three days… it wasn’t a long time to figure out the details. But at least it reassured Lilica that the likelihood of the sorceress attacking unprovoked within the next handful of days was relatively slim. “Fine. When the witch’s messenger gets back to you with a clear guarantee that no harm will come to Alster… then you can inform her we will prepare within three days from that point.” The Galeynian Queen said at last, and not without an air of defeat. Even if they were playing a long con… even if this meant them winning the war, Locque would still be winning the battle. And in the short term, she could not help but feel as though she were letting her kingdom down… “Ideally, I would like to have Alster well and on his feet by then, but... if he won’t leave that room and rest in the infirmary, or better, the sanctuary, then only time will have him recover.”
“I will keep trying. I think I’m finally getting through to him, again… he is beating himself up, a lot. For the trouble he caused us all. And… I’m sure taking off my wedding band didn’t help.” Elespeth sighed and dabbed perspiration from her forehead. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. “But I’m not done with him. He won’t stay confined to that room, forever--he can’t. I’ll keep working on him--”
“Frankly, Elespeth, I think you would do better to take care of yourself.” Lilica interrupted, her dark eyebrows knitting together in concern. “You’re not well. I can practically feel the heat radiating from you from several feet away, and you look weak in the knees. It is bad enough that we already have one of our most powerful allies down and out due to illness; we really need you healthy and alert if we are handing this palace over in a few days. Please do not overexert yourself.”
Chara, of course, did not hold back on voicing her own righteous thoughts on Elespeth’s recklessness, but however true they might have been, the past couple of years spent cooperating with the haughty blonde Rigas mage had awarded Elespeth with the ability to finally tune the woman out when it suited her to do so. It was at that point that they parted ways, Lilica and her advisor ready to make the appropriate preparations for the next few days, but an idea had sparked from the Queen’s observation of her once-again failing health. A very reckless and stupid idea--perhaps the stupidest idea she’d ever had. But it was stupid enough that it just might work. “Hey… Hadwin.” She turned to face the shapeshifter with a mischievous grin. If anyone would ever be up for a terrible idea… then it was him. “I think I might have an idea as to how to get Alster to leave that room for good. The day’s still young; you up for a little bit of exercise?”
Glancing out one of the windows, to the snow-crested ground of the palace courtyard, she almost missed the utter look of confusion he flashed in her direction. “Alster said if I’m not careful, Elias will land my ass back in the sanctuary until he deems me one hundred percent recovered. Don’t think he’s been entirely happy with me since I… well, literally died to bring my husband back. Maybe that’s exactly where I need to be--and exactly where Alster needs to be. But what are the chances he’s going to be too absorbed in self-loathing to keep me company while I recover?” She raised an eyebrow and waited for that look of recognition in his eyes that indicated he understood where she was going with this recklessness. “Care to go for a little run and spot me in case this idiocy really goes to shit? Someone is going to have to grab a Gardener or our favourite Clematis healer in the event that I black out.”
Literally, she wouldn’t have found anyone else to support such a radical tactic, but if Hadwin was reliable for anything, then it was being in on even the most harebrained plans. So completely contrary to anyone’s advice, Elespeth (without bothering to gear up for the winter cold) took to running laps around the field where palace guards often carried out their training. At first, it didn’t even bother her; she was already overheating from a fever, and the cool air felt marvelous on her flushed skin. Of course, she could hardly keep up with the faoladh’s quick pace, and it wasn’t long before she began to grow light-headed. Her entire body ached; she felt heavy, like her limbs were made of lead, and her head pounded… but she kept going. Kept running, off and on, until her legs literally gave out beneath her, and she vomited the contents of her stomach onto the snow. The entire world spun, and when she tried to straighten upright to climb to her feet again, she fell backwards into the cool snow, the heat from her body practically melting it on contact. By now, she was shivering uncontrollably, but she couldn’t tell if she was hot or cold; it felt like some strange combination of both that paved the way for this bizarre neutral ground where she wasn’t sure if she was feeling anything.
“...give me a hand up?” She asked Hadwin, her voice sounding detached and faraway. Was she even talking, saying anything? Or was she imagining it while her lips were moving silently. “I don’t… know if I can stand.”
He did; but it appeared that she’d managed the impossible and even pushed Hadwin beyond the idea of thinking that this was at all a good idea. Because he didn’t bother to fetch a healer, but slung her arm around his shoulders and marched her off to the sanctuary, himself. She couldn’t even be angry; not when she had a feeling this was exactly what was needed to draw Alster out of his now self-imposed imprisonment, and back out into the light.
Not an hour later, the door to Alster’s room opened at last--but it wasn’t Elespeth, returning as she had promised. It was Daphni, who had come with some water and herbs for the Rigas mage to help speed along his recovery. “Alster… how are you faring?” She asked kindly, setting down a brand new pitcher of cold water that she had taken the time to replenish. When he asked after Elespeth, she paused with her hand on the decanter, just shy of pouring him a glass. “Oh… I’m so sorry, I was under the impression you’d already been informed.” Sighing, she put the empty glass down. “Your wife was admitted to the sanctuary an hour ago. Hadwin found her collapsed in the snow on the palace grounds and delirious with a high fever. Not to worry--Elias tended to her quickly enough. I am sure she will be just fine, although she had reservations about leaving you alone. I’d have had her brought back here, but her blood pressure was very low and her fever alarmingly high… I think it is necessary that she stay where she is, for the time being. But, if you are feeling well enough and would like to be relocated so that the two of you are together, that can most certainly be arranged. It is up to you, but…” Pouring a glass full of cold water, she handed it to him to drink. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re looking forward to see you to a speedy recovery as well, Alster.”
There was never a dull moment for Hadwin--which probably sujited the faoladh just fine. No sooner had he admitted a very sick Elespeth to the sanctuary, that on the way back, the resonance stone in his pocket began to hum. Nia had a message for him; good news, she’d assured him, and asked if he was available to meet as early as later that night (at a tavern not far from the palace, for his own convenience). Of course, he agreed to anything that would make this surrender run more smoothly for both parties, and made himself available at that very tavern for the agreed-upon time. In fact, he beat Nia to it; she was nowhere to be seen for several minutes, until at last, the familiar, bubbly brunette pushed through the doors, brushing newly fallen snow off of her sleeves as she stepped into the warm establishment.
“Oh, come on--you must be early. Aren’t you? If not…” She slid onto the seat across from him and lowered the hood of her cloak, and her lips spread into a wide grin. “Then this is completely intentional, and I am fashionably late. Already have a drink? Well, it’s on me, tonight. No trouble at all. Hey,” she called to the barkeep nearby, and expertly flicked a solid gold goin in his direction with her thumb. “When you get a chance, bring me an ale, and refill this fine fellow’s glass over here.”
Hadwin made a comment inquiring as to just where she got the money to eat and drink the way she did, asking if fabricating currency was one of Locque’s talents, at which Nia could only laugh. “What? No. I mean, probably. If she put her mind to it, the woman can do anything--but no. This,” she rattled the bag of coins tucked beneath her cloak, and lowered her voice, “is all me. I’m a Master Alchemist: you think turning lead into gold isn’t within my capabilities? Pfft. That’s an amature parlor trick. Well, I mean, any asshole with a few alchemy manuals can make it look like gold, but my craft is the real deal. Don’t get me wrong, it’s involved in its own way, and I can’t do it with just any type of substance at any given time--but, damn. Am I rambling already? Okay, you caught me.” Picking up the stein that the barkeep finally set in front of her, she took a long, satisfied gulp. “It’s been a while and a half since I last had a conversation. And what I have to say isn’t anything that I couldn’t have told you over the resonance stone, but I am booooored. And it’s hard to take someone seriously when they sound like they’re talking with a mouth full of rocks. Those earth mages really need to refine their craft a little.”
Absently drawing a finger along the perspiration gathering on the outside of her glass, Nia leaned in and twirled a tress of hair with her free hand. “So about your ‘hands off’ request with regard to your Rigas mage… it’s settled. My ‘lady’ won’t lay a finger upon him on the condition that he respects the same boundaries. Believe me, she has bigger fish to fry than holding a grudge against Alster. And there’s more.” Straightening her spine, she took another long swig of ale. “I’ve been working on the whole Dawn Warrior thing for you. The sorceress isn’t ready to surrender her--not yet, before trust has been established. However, in an act of good faith, if you can get the palace to hold fast to their promise and reduce our waiting to a few days… then she will be happy to return Bronwyn to you.” The Master Alchemist raised an eyebrow and gauged his reaction. “I know, it’s not Sigrid, and there’s no way in hell anyone can convince the other little wolf to do anything she doesn’t want to do, but your older sister has never been inherently loyal to ‘our side’. Rowen roped her in and my employer kept her there, but without that element of mind control, there’s nothing holding her fast to us. So… she’s as good as yours in a few days, if that palace is as good as ours. See?”
When she put down her stein, it was already empty. But Nia was far from having reached her limit. “I told you I can come through for you. I know how to talk to our elusive and enigmatic witch; enough to get the results everyone needs.” She twirled the chain on which her pendant was strung and leaned back in her seat, looking particularly accomplished. “Here’s hoping you can drink to that, if you can’t find any other reason to imbibe. Like I said--it’s on me, tonight!”
Out of fear of the alternative, Hadwin responded to Elespeth’s concerns with classic flippancy. It was a better tactic than letting the ghost of Fiona push his buttons until he inevitably snapped and took his anger out on the closest scapegoat in his vicinity. Maintaining good relationships was such a bother--but it had its own rewards. Strangely, he harbored no desire to burn bridges with Elespeth. Not when he’d invested so much time meddling in her personal affairs and...actually enjoying her company. For the most part.
“Ah, you can be rest assured, Elly; I’m not looking to die. Thanks for your concern; I appreciate it,” he winked and patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll say this about Locque. She’s not all black. She’s shades of gray. Dark, dark gray, yeah, almost indistinguishable from true black, but it’s a gradation. I suppose it’s a philosophy I’ve adopted over the years. Call it a defense mechanism. When you’ve got a sister who always sees darkness, you wanna remind her that people aren’t one hundred percent anything; not evil, or good. We’re all in-betweeners. On a sliding scale, some veer closer in one direction over the other, but there’s no absolutes.” He released his hold on Elespeth. “That said, does this mean I think Locque can be redeemed?” A chuckle gurgled from his throat. “Fuck no; that ship’s sailed. Granted, I’ve been wrong before. But I ain’t compromising anything by lending Tes my support. With or without me, she’s gonna embark on her crusade; better she’s got someone looking out for her. ‘Sides, she already knows my opinion; she just wants to know that I’m with her. And I am. I’ve still got her ear. If shit starts going sour, believe me, I’m gonna shut the whole thing down.” Happy, mam? He gave the shadow in his periphery the literal side-eye. “As for the Master Alchemist you’re so fond of--she ain’t bad. Confused? Sure. She’s in it for self-preservation. Under Locque’s protection, she thinks she’s got it made, but only if she can get us to stand down. She fears death, see...so it’s not in her best interests to antagonize or flat-out oppose us. She’s lonely, to boot. Doesn’t wanna blow her chance to make some genuine connections outside of Locque and her brooding retinue. So that’s my take. Ain’t nothing we can do now but roll with the punches and stay on our toes. Feel free to agree or disagree, but it’s a golden opportunity having Locque within our sights; keep your enemies close, right?”
At his retreat, he found Elespeth stubbornly following his breakneck speed, panting in her struggles to catch him. “The reason I’m bounding ahead is cuz I’m trying to shake you, Elly,” he said, bluntly. “I told ya to go and get some rest, but,” out of consideration, he halved his brisk pace, “you’re like Tes in some respects. Someone tells you ‘No,’ you get all fired up. You’re still pretty damn pessimistic, though. Someone says ‘It can’t be done,’ and you more or less accept it as irrefutable truth. Don’t even wanna entertain the possibilities. That’s wild to me, especially when your whole marriage can be summed up with one statement: ‘I can’t believe that worked!’ But that’s neither here nor there.” Shrugging, he wound an arm around Elespeth to support her through the winding track of corridors en route to their tentative destination. As far as his nose could tell, Lilica and Chara were hanging out near the palace entrance. “Ah, whatever. Let’s go.”
Conversation between the haggard Queen and her equally haggard advisor had become rote at this point. As always, he shared his ongoing correspondence with Nia, informing them of the ultimatum they had decided upon. To spare the power-couple extra stress (as the faoladh was digestible to them only in small chunks), he and Elespeth kept their meeting brief and exited, equipped with a clear set of instructions and a looming deadline to address. “Well, well, don’t you have a wicked plan brewing around in that sick head of yours?” Perking at the sudden change in her tone, he returned her mischievous grin. Quick on the uptake, he didn’t need further explanation as to why she desired a run in the cold. He clearly spoke the language of schemes and ill-bred ideas. Coined a few new words, at that. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’m rubbing off on you, Elly. That’s pretty fucked up--and I’m in! There are two major influences that impact your beau’s behavior: self-loathing and you. If given the choice between one or the other, he’s gonna choose you, hands down. So,” he cricked his neck from side to side, in preparation for their little courtyard jaunt, “I see your harebrained scheme. Chase me around a few laps and you’ll become a tottering wreck in no time, I promise you that.”
Hence, they arrived on the palace grounds, neither wearing protective layers to ward off the chill. A little nip didn’t bother him. The difference between his lack of winter preparedness and Elespeth’s was that he exuded health and she wanted to sabotage hers. Not a half-hour later, she achieved her wish. With him setting the pace, a grueling route around the wide thoroughfare, Elespeth, who fell farther and farther behind, had finally collapsed upon a snowbank. By the time he reached her, she, reduced to a wheezing, shivering mass, had expelled a pool of vomit onto the ground. He frowned, unable to ignore the similarities between her current state and the barely living corpse he discovered in the woods some months ago. “Dammit, Elly; this is working too good.” Crouching down, he carefully slung an arm across his shoulders and hauled her upright. “C’mon,” he sighed, securing his other arm around her middle. “We’re going straight to the sanctuary. Fuck me if you kick it on my watch. Then Rowen will be the least of my worries.”
Owing to his fleet-footedness and his propensity for shortcuts, they made it to the sanctuary in good timing--insofar as Elespeth was still conscious and breathing. Moments after handing her off to the Gardeners, the stone in his pocket buzzed, alerting him to a return message from Nia. Quick to respond in the affirmative, he immediately informed Chara and Lilica of the Master Alchemist’s invitation, and of Elespeth’s earlier collapse--barring the details, of course. With the Queen’s permission, he bundled up, took a steed (he didn’t need a fancy carriage), and set out into the night air.
The tavern they selected for their rendezvous was neither Osric’s place nor the palace town’s establishment he’d frequented with Elespeth. Serving as a neutral waypoint, it sat equidistant to the heart of Galeyn and the D’Marian village. Since he arrived early, he bought a drink, found a quiet table in the back and whiled away the minutes by lighting his pipe and blowing streams of smoke towards the wood-beamed ceiling.
Nia wasn’t far behind.
“Being on time’s not my thing, but dammit all if I haven’t been soaking up the responsibility over the last few weeks,” he said, sliding one chair down so she wouldn’t have to loop around the table for the available seat. “Believe me, I’m pretty mystified about the change, myself. Must be losing my edge.”
As a gesture of thanks, he raised his tankard of ale and took a spirited swig. “Much obliged. Gotta preserve my supply of coin or I’ll have to take to gambling, again. Not that I mind, but…” trailing off, he raised an impressed eyebrow when she revealed just how deep her pockets went. “Sure, I’ve heard alchemists are all about that lead into gold business but I always thought they’d made fool’s gold and hawked it off as the genuine article. But hells...you mean to tell me that if you’ve got the resources, you can make infinite money? And we’re not best friends yet?” He playfully bumped her shoulder. “We better get to it. Imagine the killing we’d do on the tables. An ace player like me, combined with a goldsmithing machine like you...fuck; we’d turn a profit. I mean, shit’s been getting kind of stale since living the palace life; not like I’m improving my fortune when I’m already surrounded by luxury. But like you, I get bored. And, like you, I’m a rambler, all right.” He broke into a toothy grin. “Looks like you met your match.”
Match or not, both parties knew when it was important to talk business and did not hesitate to shift from casual conversation to the entire reason for meeting in the first place. Intrigued by the ‘peace offering,’ Hadwin leaned forward, hand propped under his chin. “Bronwyn, you say? Plain forgot about her, to be honest. Shows the kind of relationship we’ve got. Now, granted she hasn’t been mind-tampered to spy on us and inform on your lady, then yeah, I’ll take her off your hands. Not with relish or anything, but sure. She’s family or whatever.” He popped the pipe into his mouth and took a puff. “I’ll give them the head’s up and let you know their answer. Our three-day interim period will start from the time we solidify the agreement. Though, I’m not sure the others will be too thrilled about the ‘gift.’ Bron has yet to make an impression and all. Doesn’t really have friends, either. But hey, it’s the thought. It’s something concrete, like what I asked for. You’ve been paying attention, I’ll give you that! Can’t argue that you’re not pulling your weight. So sure,” he held the tankard containing what was left of the ale, “I will drink to that.” Draining the tankard in a lick of a second, he signaled the bartender to pour him a refill. “Ah, but you underestimate me. I don’t need a reason to imbibe. I’ll imbibe freely. You’re bored, and we’re here, so,” his golden eyes gleamed like the coins she claimed able to create, “let’s go all out.”
With Elespeth gone, Alster, whose connection to the earth was strongest at her side, drifted into a half state of consciousness, lacking the interest to stay awake or aware. Although his fever had broken, several symptoms of the virus stubbornly clung to his frail body. His chest fluttered, on and off, expanding and contracting with enough strength to wrench open his rib cage. The rate of his heart’s pulse was too swift for his breath to follow. It trailed behind, gasping from overexertion. Drinking water presented its own challenges. His hand trembled, unable to hold the cup steady and angled favorably so as to prevent choking. One wrong sip sent him sprawled over, hacking. And whenever his stomach was disrupted, the threat of nausea and vomiting lay in his future. Therefore, it was easier to close his eyes and find the peaceful core within himself, a painless haven where he could relax. All the same, he had to take care not to depart too far from his physical body. Doing so was exactly what caused his soul to split. The pressure of achieving balance, of not disrupting the fragile healing process of his patched-up soul, often vaulted him out of his unstable meditation, as if to say, “You’re not escaping your problems that easily.”
“No, I suppose not,” he said to the far wall, his only present company in the room. The two Forbanne guards entrusted with his safety were positioned outside his door, likely sick of the stuffy, cramped quarters, and of him. He couldn’t blame them. “I can’t take the painless route. Every time I do, look what happens. Other people suffer for my mistakes.”
The wall cracked and settled, as though in exclamation. Alster shook his head, disagreeing with the counterpoint that only he could hear.
“No...I’m not choosing the easy way out by staying here. If I leave this room too soon, and if I leave for good, my magic could exacerbate my soul’s recovery. My alter ego may be subdued, but magic emboldens him. Emboldens us both. The responsibility is too hefty. I can’t be trusted with it. I can’t be trusted to make the right decision.”
The wooden beams within the wall crackled a second time. He bit down on his lip.
“It’s not an excuse. Of course I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll make another questionable move, and pay for the consequences. I’ll lose more of my humanity and...become even less. This isn’t easy for me. I miss my magic. My entire being calls to it. I sense it in Elespeth. When she’s gone, she takes that warming beacon with her...and I’m cold. I’m shivering. I’m more alone than I’ve ever been. But this is necessary.” He swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “It’s necessary…”
The latch on the door sounded in a sudden clatter of activity, spurring Alster to nearly jolt out of the bed in response. Hand to chest, he swerved in his bed to investigate the disruption, half-expecting, and hoping, for Elespeth to emerge from the doorway. It was not Elespeth.
“Daphni,” he said, breathless, trying to mask his disappointment. “I’m sorry...you startled me. I--” he dipped his head in gratitude for the medicines and water, “thank you...I appreciate the service. I apologize for being a bother, but...if I may inquire as to Elespeth’s whereabouts? She said she’d return soon and...well, for obvious reasons, my timekeeping skills are a little off. My ‘soon’ and her ‘soon’ may differ by a wide margin.”
The Sybaian healer halted. Uneasy hesitation colored her movements, or lack thereof. When she did not respond right away, he ventured to ask, dreading the answer. “Is...is she ok?”
No. She was not ok. His mouth widened into an O-shape. “What was she doing outside in the snow? She is not well. She shouldn’t have been...I’m afraid this is all my fault.” He closed his eyes, trying and failing to keep calm and not panic. Daphni, whether intentionally or not, had delayed his fretting by suggesting he relocate to the sanctuary with her. His shoulders went rigid.
“I can’t leave...I shouldn’t leave,” he spoke, but he was only half-addressing Daphni. His attention was to the wall. “She’ll have the best of care in the sanctuary. I’ll get in her way. She’s seen enough of me these past few weeks. No-no, you’re right,” he conceded to the wall with a nod, “she doesn’t do well in confinement. But I don’t think she needs me. I’m not choosing this room over her.”
He lowered his eyes, catching the wedding band newly affixed to his finger. Was it fair to tote around the symbol of their love and not go to her in a time of need? She had been there for him. Tirelessly. She risked her health for him. She died for him. She’d been embroiled in this mess...because of him. If he stayed and forsook her...then he truly would have fallen far from his humanity.
Grimacing, he gripped his hand into a tight fist. “Nothing is ever simple,” he said in a pained mutter. “Alright…” he stretched his hand out to Daphni. “Let’s...let’s go.”
It took the combined efforts of Daphni and Kadri to stand him on his feet. He could scarcely stay upright, let alone make any progress on his own. In trying to figure out the conundrum, the Forbanne guard called over his much larger companion. “Gunnar--carry him.”
Alster was about to protest, but if standing alone had induced lightheadedness and short, staccatoed huffs, then he wouldn’t make it past the end of the hallway without collapsing, leaving him in no better a condition than Elespeth. “Fine,” he managed in a whisper, “carry me.” His red-rimmed eyes met Daphni’s. “You can...go on ahead. Ready me a...bed.”
In an instance of history repeating itself, Alster was again handled by a Forbanne guard (though, to be fair, Haraldur was ex-Forbanne). Once piled atop Gunnar’s wide shoulders, Alster held his ragged breath as they passed the door’s threshold, anticipating the resurgence of his magic. Partitions had kept it at bay for weeks; lifting the barriers all at once was sure to generate a torrent of energy too overwhelming to withstand.
As anticipated, it hit him like several dozen gauntleted fists to the face, knocking out what little breath he’d been carrying...along with his consciousness.
“Hey, it’s not quite as simple as having ‘infinite resources’, now. Very specific ingredients and conditions are required to get the real deal. Much as I wish the contrary, I can’t make something out of nothing. You really think I’d be on the run the way I am and not living it up in a life of luxury with fine liquor and servants at my beck and call like that Canaveris Lord in the D’Marian village if I could?” Nia chuckled and shook her head, tucking a glossy tress of brunette behind her ear. “For real, though, there is truth to saying money is a burden. Someone like me who’s lived on the run, it’s not like I can haul a whole, infinite sack around the world as I travel primarily on foot. I keep enough to hang from my waist without the weight pulling my damned trousers down, and replenish as necessary whenever I get the chance. But a word of warning--if you ever do get in good with a Master Alchemist that can make you an endless supply of money, be aware that people are gonna ask where that money came from and how the hell you suddenly came into it.” She raised a finely arched eyebrow and sipped on her tankard of ale. “I can tell you right now, I’ve never met a single Master Alchemist who’d be willing to put their neck on the line to make themselves rich, let alone some other shmuck for whatever trivial gain they could offer them. The cost of being caught is too great. In case you haven’t noticed, my ‘kind’ aren’t exactly welcome in a lot of places. Especially not since my homeland made such an example of us a decade ago.”
Draining her tankard, Nia set the heavy pewter down on the table and stretched her arms out in front of her, cracking her knuckles. “That said, I realize the cat will probably be out of the bag for me once this whole surrender thing happens. I guess it doesn’t really matter; not like anyone can really lay a finger on me, under Locque’s protection. But, between you and me, this is something I’ve considered: that the transition for your crew, from the palace to wherever else you choose to reside, might not be as smooth as our transition into it. If your lot is hurting for coin, then consider it a promise of goodwill that I will personally see to it that you’ll all be back on your feet and living comfortably in no time. Think what you want of me, but I don’t fancy myself a villain. Hey, good sir!” She called to the barkeep and gestured briefly to the two empty tankards. “Refills, when you get a chance! But, anyway,” the Master Alchemist refocused her warm, brown gaze on the woodgrain, and the shapes and patterns the water droplets on the pewter created atop them. “I know what it’s like not to have a bed to sleep in and that awful, cranky, hopeless feeling you get when you’re hungry and have no way to satisfy it. I don’t wish that on anyone, frankly; and I’m not even going to ask Locque’s permission, because ultimately it works out for her if her direct competition and opposition isn’t suffering as a result of her actions. So don’t worry your pretty head, and go ahead and tell your friends, as well: I’ve got you all covered, coin and all. No catch--cross my heart.” She winked. “Well--so long as you play by the rules we agreed to. No sneak attacks in the middle of the night or any such bullshit.
“As for your sister--honestly… I’ve been feeling kinda bad for her situation. Your older one, I mean; the younger one gives me the heebie jeebies.” She shuddered and sipped on her newly filled tankard. “Bronwyn, right? She never asked for any of this shit, or to be all tangled up in it. And the fact you say she doesn’t even really have friends… well, damn, that’s sad. But she’s got you, right? Or are you also at odds with her the way you and Rowen are on shaky ground?” Nia swirled the ale in her stein and leaned back in her seat. “I never got on well with my brother, either, but in hindsight… I kinda wish I had. So you really haven’t thought of her in all this time? You all are so concerned about that Dawn Warrior, but not a fellow wolf? Ouch.” She hissed and shook her head. “Poor girl. No wonder she’s all out of sorts. Makes me wonder if she is better off with you lot; at least Locque is looking out for her to an extent. But… she’s still kind of a liability. Safer with you. We’ll hand her over, but hey, take her under your wing. Nothing worse in this world than not having a single person looking out for you; or a single person you can trust.”
The way she spoke sounded as though she was speaking from experience, but she didn’t seem to care to elaborate. “Anyway--drink up! It’s on me. And if you’re really short on cash and hurting for money…” She glanced over her shoulder at a handful of men playing their hands at poker. A mischievous glint sparkled in her earth-coloured eyes. “Would you be up for a gamble that you can be sure you’ll win? I have a feeling each and every one of those bastards is cheating. Would sure be a shame if they lost the literal aces up their sleeves… Seriously, look at the way two of them are adjusting their coats. They’re hiding something. What do you say we have a little fun by spoiling theirs?”
Standing, she picked up her stein and angled her head towards the game. “Wanna give it a go? I’m absolute crap at cards, but… well, I have my uses.” It didn’t take much to convince Hadwin to gamble or insert himself into a game, and he followed her lead, sauntering over to the table where the three men were at their game. Suspicious of the strangers, the trio were quick to put down their cards so they couldn’t see their hands. “Hey, boys; mind if we join? Well, my friend here, at least. I’m not great at the game. But… gotta say, I love the thrill of it.” She made a point of placing her hands on each of two of the men’s shoulders, flashing her most winning smile. “What do you say?”
“For you, sweetheart? Sure; why not.” The third man with whom she hadn’t come into contact--to her great fortune--couldn’t help himself, and reached across the table to slide his hand up past her wrist. “So long as you’re not thinking of pulling any funny stuff. You can sit at the other end of the table with your friend there.”
“Rest assured, my good men, neither of us has any intention to cheat, if that is what you are suggesting.” Nia shook her head, wearing an aghast expression as if what they had suggested had deeply offended her. “Where is the fun in that? The thrill? The only good game is one played fair and square, am I right?” After Hadwin took a seat, and the man across from him dealt him a hand, she leaned on the back of his chair to look over his shoulder. “I’m feeling generous tonight, and it’s been a while since I set eyes on a good, friendly game. If my pal here loses, not only do you get the money,” she tapped the gold at her hip, “but I’ll buy you all a round of ale.”
“I’ll drink--and play--to that.” One of the other men laughed. “You got it, honey. Hey, if you’re not busy after, I do have a room upstairs…”
If Nia was fazed either way, be it intrigue, disgust, or even fear, she betrayed nothing on her face. “Let’s just see how I’m feeling at the end of the game. I can be a sore loser, you know.” She teased, taking a glance at Had’s hand. “Well? Shall we get started?”
It was exactly as the Master Alchemist had predicted: two of the tree men, when it appeared they had a less than favourable hand, appeared to ‘casually’ adjust their sleeves, a look of panic and frustration reflecting in their faces when a worrying amount of what appeared to be dust or ash leaked out from their cuffs. Whatever aces or illegal cards they’d been hiding, they were no more, reduced to a completely useless substance, and the game itself did end up being played out fair and square. And, with entirely no cheating whatsoever, Hadwin did, in fact, rake in some money to replenish what he was still out due to taking Elespeth for drinks a few weeks ago. The only sore loser at the table happened to be the man who hadn’t been hiding anything, though he did look suspiciously in Nia and Hadwin’s direction. “Normally I lose to these blokes. I always accused them of cheating, and yet today, you’re the ones hauling in the coin… guess I owe you boys an apology.” He sighed as he spoke to the other men. “That, or your schemes just didn’t work out, this time.”
“Schemes? Come on, give the lady and her beau some credit!” One of the would-be-cheaters laughed nervously. “They won fair and square. I can tell they’ve played before. Good game, I say, good game!” The least he could do was save face and shy away from being caught almost-cheating.
“He’s not my beau--but this win’s on him. Like I said, I’m absolute shit at cards.” She patted Hadwin’s shoulders with a half-smile. “But, you folks are in luck. While I am an awfully sore loser, I’m also a very generous winner. And since we’re now a few cents richer--your next rounds are on me. I’ll let the bartender know.” She winked, as Hadwin pocketed the cash with gusto. “Honestly, I was just in it for a good time on a dreary winter night.”
“If you’re still up for a good time…” The man who had initially made a pass to her raised a suggestive eyebrow. “There’s a warm bed upstairs you’re welcome to.”
As much as Nia had been pining for a warm bed (anything was more comfortable than a cot), she flashed an apologetic look and murmured, “I am flattered, good sir, and your offer is kind, but… what would your wife think?” And that was the only comment it took for the eager man to go a few shades whiter, which certainly got a rise out of his two friends.
“She’s got you there, Edgar!” One of the others slapped the man’s back, and Nia felt that was as good a time as any to slip away, with Hadwin in tow.
They found a table at the other side of the restaurant to continue drinking their fill, now with their pockets a little heavier--or Hadwin’s, at least. “Didn’t even know if the guy had a wife; good luck on my part that I made a good guess. Looks like the type to not give a damn about the woman he’s married to and who would prefer to chase alternate ass. Unfortunately for him, I happen to be very careful about who gets my ass.” She chuckled, taking a seat across from the faoladh, a faint flush to her cheeks to suggest that finally, one tankard after another of ale had finally brought her to some level of inebriation. “Anyway; don’t say I never did anything for ya! Might not have turned lead into gold, but you’re walking out of this place a little richer. Call it an… investment for future relations. You seem to be the only one from the palace who will tolerate me, so I think it serves us to be friends, yeah? Or something like that.” She stuck out her hand as an offer to shake on it. “Yeah, you might know who I am and what that means and all. And you might know why I absolutely need to play the winning side at all cost. But it doesn’t really serve you to go calling to Ilandria that you’ve found someone they’d really like to see in chains, any more than it would serve me to screw you over. So I think we’ve got a good thing going… if you’re willing to entertain it. In case you haven’t already realized,” Nia sat back in her seat and crossed her arms over her bosom and winked, “it’s kind of advantageous to have me as an ally.”
Elespeth no longer knew if and when she was conscious versus asleep. No sooner had Hadwin hauled her to the sanctuary (with most of the work on his part; she had been trembling so violently she could barely move her feet, let alone keep herself upright) that the former knight had succumbed to delirium, hardly even aware of when she was placed on a bed and stripped of her snow-soaked clothes. Everything was simultaneously hot and cold; she heard everything, albeit nothing at all. Sometime later, when the delirium began to fade, she was aware of the need to vomit, again and again, and of how parched she was. It was so difficult to keep fluids down, however, that the Gardeners had sought out Elias to slide a needle into her vein to replace the hydration she was rapidly losing, between vomiting and sweating out a high fever. She had sweat through several tunics, with no sign of the fever breaking that night, and so the Gardeners were in and out at all hours to check on her and make sure her vital signs were not failing, particularly her heart.
Later, she would feel bad for putting them through all of what they did to try and keep her comfortable (and hydrated), knowing that all of this could have been easily avoided had she listened to Elias, to Alster… hell, to everyone who had suggested she rest. She had had the vague lucidity to ask after him when they’d admitted her, but her ability to focus and to discern reality from fantasy had quickly declined after that point, and the ex-Atvanian wasn’t aware of the moment Daphni and a few of the Forbanne had admitted her husband--as per her plan. The night was a blur of sweating and shaking, thrashing about in her bed, accidentally yanking the needle out of her vein more than once which required Elias’s expertise to replace (she was lucky he didn’t tie her down with restraints to keep it from happening a third time). She did not open her eyes with some clarity until sometime early the next afternoon, when she was so desperately parched and there wasn’t a Gardener in sight. Forcing herself to sit upright, the room spun, and she felt her empty stomach roil and threaten to dry heave… until a familiar figure in the bed next to her took her mind off of such discomfort.
“Alster…” A slow smile crept across her face at the sight of her husband’s sleeping form. She reached across and placed a hand on his arm, and shook him gently. “You’re here… Alster, are you awake?”
“Nah--I torched my chances with the local Master Alchemist some time ago,” Hadwin waved his hand as though to swat aside a fly. “He sort of hates my guts. That’s on me, though. My default disposition is ‘asshole,’ so he got the brunt of my stink. In my opinion, he’s better for it, but not too many folks agree with me. If I teamed up with one, though, I don’t think he or she would go under fire for mysterious money acquisition--at least, not in these parts. And not right away. See, I’ve built up a reputation. Ask most anyone in Galeyn. I come upon a small fortune, people don’t bat an eye anymore. They know all too well how I obtain my wealth and they’re none too fazed--which, to be honest, is one helluva relief. Other places haven’t been too accomodating about my wheeling and dealing. I’m sure there’s a handsome bounty on my head in a few of those places I’ve screwed--in more than one sense of the word.” With his newly-refilled tankard, he swept the liquid treasure towards his mouth and took an eager gulp. “So, Master Alchemist or no Master Alchemist, my money’s always gonna come from questionable sources. I’m an accomplished hustler. It’s the flavor of life. My life, specifically. Only recently have I been ‘careful,’” he uttered the word as though it were a curse, “and honorable, to an extent. I’ll tell ya, it’s a strange adjustment. But I’ll always take some additional coin. If you’re offering and not expecting anything else but a peaceful transfer of hands--I’ll gladly stuff my pockets. But it ain’t me you gotta convince. It’s the ones in charge--soon to be formally in charge. Their pride won’t accept handouts--’specially as they’re surrendering out of necessity, not out of love for the new monarch.”
Speaking of strange adjustments, the inevitable return of Bronwyn sparked another turnaround in his lifestyle. She always condemned him for his loose and crooked methods, a characteristic she hadn’t shaken over the eight-year interval they’d last seen each other. When she disappeared a few months ago, he didn’t much care, because she’d rather be in Rowen’s graces than his own, and it suited him just fine. No harping, no lengthy dissertations detailing exactly why he was reprehensible, irredeemable, and completely without morals. She had no real investment in ‘saving’ him. At the time, she thought it was the right thing to do. Bronwyn played at goodness and justice, never truly understanding the meaning of either. She tried so hard to channel both that her every attempt came off as disingenuous--because it was. Because she was afraid of veering from the stooge their father created. She feared the genuine, for what she might see in the mirror--a reflection of him.
That’s how much she loathed him. She measured her life around what not to be, rather than what she wanted to be, obsessively modeling and molding her behavior after his direct opposite. He had to agree with Nia on one point; on top of coming across as insufferable, Bronwyn was pitiable, and her treatment so far? Sad. And dammit if he wasn’t eager to knock sense into her! Because, unlike Rowen...maybe she still had a chance. A chance to escape the madness. With her help, he’d managed to break free of his suicidal spiral. Sure, it was Teselin who reached him, but Bronwyn had contributed. Like it or not, he had a debt to repay.
“Sure, Bron’s had it rough. Away from our da’s clan, she’s outta her element. Doesn’t know how to function on the outside, and she’s got shit luck, too. And hells, maybe I lied,” he clanked the pipe stem against his teeth. “I’ve thought about her. Not a whole lot, mind; Bron was looking to reunite with Ro, so I let ‘er be. Ro’s the whole reason she’s out here, wandering. As for Siggy, I’m only pushing for her release because everyone else’s foaming at the mouth about her. Also, y’know, it sucks to be under thrall for so damn long; that ain’t right. Months of your life,” he snapped his fingers, “gone. Anyway, don’t think she’s hot about me, even though I introduced her to her now dead girlfriend that li’l Ro killed. The Kavanagh name is fucked beyond measure--but somehow, Bron escaped the worst of the worst. Might not seem like it now as she’s a little loopy, but she can be sensible. More than any of us. So,” he swirled the tankard’s contents, staring intently at its golden ichor, “how’ll she take it that you’re selling her back to us? Not well, I wager? Doing it against her will, are you? Cuz I can think of no scenario where she’d choose me over our sis. Barring my jumping off a cliff or something in that vein.” He shrugged. The way he spoke it, one would never know it actually happened. “Ro got sick of her; that’s the only explanation I can see.” He lounged on the chair, one hand gripping the nearly depleted tankard and the other hand gripping the nearly depleted pipe. “Eh, why not? I’ll open my arms wide and welcome her with a warm hug. You’re mistaken if you think she trusts me or will ever trust me, though.”
His relaxation pose didn’t persist for long. At the mention of gambling, Hadwin shot forward, hanging off his seat. “I ain’t short on cash, but I like the sound of a sure-win. I mean, the beauty of the gamble is the unknowability factor, but being a filthy cheater, myself, I’m never opposed to manufacturing my gains.” Chugging the remains of his tankard, he stood, a grin shooting across his face. “Count me in!” He followed Nia’s line of sight to the men hunched intently over the table, sitting ramrod still save for the occasional pulling on the sleeve. The gesture was too unnatural to pass as casual, or even as a nervous tic. Additionally, it helped to see their most pressing fears, and none of them were worried about getting caught cheating. Boozed-up blokes, the lot of them; it emboldened their game and made them fearless. As they approached the table, he didn’t miss how Nia slid her Master Alchemist’s hands over the men’s shoulders and welcomed the otherwise unwelcome advance of the sleazy third man and his not-so-subtle execution. He’d be easy to watch for shifts and tells.
“Funny business? Psh.” Taking a seat on the opposite end of the table, Hadwin rolled up his sleeves, exposing his bare forearms. No one followed suit. “I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m in it for a good time. Not much to celebrate, lately. Win or lose, I’ll take the high that comes with it.” The game unfolded as he’d predicted. Nia, good as her word, had tampered with the men’s cheating implements; the unsubtle third man was first to react as, in horror, the ashy remains of his aces dumped unceremoniously from his sleeves. The other two men wore their surprise and defeat similarly. Perfect. Hadwin hid his diabolical grin, but shared it with Nia, in the crinkles of his eyes. Divested of their winning strategy, the three men wore fear like a second coat, elevating his fear-reading into mind-reading territory. He knew when they were holding shit hands. He knew when they were holding fair hands. The honest fellow, the sole member of their table not interested in cheating to win, gave away his secrets through other means: by shuffling his feet and rubbing his knees together. Hadwin, poker-face at the ready, seeded his dominion over the course of a dozen games, playing, as he was known to do, the long-con. Lure hapless players into a false sense of security and, once they lowered their guard, strike. But Nia had already done most of the work for him, assuring their victory--and a handsome pile of coin.
“A valiant effort, boys. Turns out my friend here’s a beacon of good luck. But I ain’t no miser, either.” He flipped a few coins to the nearby bartender, who’d expertly caught them in his palm. “Get ‘em some ‘no hard feelings’ drinks, on us.”
As they headed to another privacy corner, Hadwin’s pockets clattering, he could hardly contain the guffaw that belted from his mouth. “Oh hell yeah he’s got a wife. The bastard feels inadequate in his household cuz his wife holds the reins and he goes on chasing tail to prove he’s a wild stallion who’s still got it, when in reality he’s an old ass about to be put to pasture. Seriously--he can’t get it up. And he blames it on her. Wife’s doing just fine, though. Got a good glimpse of her in his fearscape. Yeah--I fucked her.” He upended his hands in a ‘What can you do about it?’ gesture. “So they’re equal opportunity cheaters--’cept he doesn’t know. Aaaand I’d like to keep it that way.” He took a well-timed gulp of his refreshed tankard of ale. “So in that respect, I’m dead opposite of you. I’ll fuck whoever comes along. I can see why you’re careful, though.” He gazed across at her meaningfully, pointed to his temple to indicate his literal use of the word ‘see,’ and left it at that.
“Mmm...talking investments, hmm? Lookie you, trying so hard to win me over. It’s working,” he tilted his head and winked. “I can be bought. Friends? Sure. Or something like it--till, y’know, Ro slits my throat. She’s very determined. No reason for me to tattle on you to Ilandria, either. I’ve got a soft spot for the cockroaches of the world, doing whatever’s necessary to survive. Ain’t no room for morals or self-righteousness when your choices are limited to ‘death’ and ‘not death.’ I’m no stranger to this life; it’s what makes me good at determining my likelihood of winning. Lots of practice, observation, and experience. Honestly, if you’re looking for an ally on the other side, I’m your best bet. But you already knew that!” He clapped her hand and took it into a hearty shake. “Wouldn’t hurt to get in good with some other folks while you’re at it. If you want my recommendation...try for Al. He’s the friendly sort, and influential, but he might be sore that you slashed up his wife...and that you work for Locque. If I’m honest, Nia,” he dropped his hand and tsked low in his throat, “your prospects don’t look too good, as is. But wait a tick!” he slammed an enthusiastic fist into his open palm, “aren’t you pals with Lord Fancypants? Think he’s into making sculptures on commission? I also heard he likes to throw parties. We should pay him a visit! Not like he’d have anything to hide from us, either.” He took a swig of ale and lowered his voice to a gossipy whisper. “You know, and I know ‘bout his deep, dark secret. Wouldn’t even need to exploit and blackmail him for a better, more reasonable price, either. I have a feeling he’s too proud to ask for a fee, ‘specially if it’s for a good cause. And not to worry!” He assured Nia, who seemed a bit uncomfortable about the subject, “I’m not gonna prey on his biggest fears. Like I said, I’ve been doing things the ‘honorable’ way, lately. ‘Sides, I don’t wanna piss off a powerful man with an enviable alcohol collection.”
Differing from his many modes of unconsciousness, Alster’s newest state blacked him out for nearly a day, and aside from feeling like he was incubating amid an electrical storm, it was not an unpleasant experience. The sensations swirled about his prone form, weighing him with a heaviness others would find invasive, or suffocating. The body certainly reacted as such, but the spirit drank in the torrential energies until flush and dizzy with intoxication. Despite his eagerness to keep drinking, Alster had to recuperate from each session, unable to absorb more than a dram or two at a time. Meanwhile, the excess magic fizzled and popped over his skin, eagerly awaiting their turn for entrance. The return of his magic was akin to welcoming an old, albeit impatient, friend, and it missed him as much as he missed it. Though he yearned to embrace each aspect in happy reunion, there was something bittersweet about the transition. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready, and yet, it was ready for him, and he had no choice but to accept the burden of responsibility that having magic unfortunately represented.
Some hours later, he awoke, but not through natural means. An external jolt of electricity pummeled him out of deep slumber. Bolting upright on his bed, he temporarily ignored the incredible bout of lightheadedness paired with the headache jabbing behind his light-sensitive eyes, and scanned the room through his tears. Blurry vision exacerbated the task, but his gaze eventually settled on Elespeth. Clarity replaced the confusion.
“E-El,” he breathed, wheeling from the involuntary exertion of his violently-disturbed sleep. He lowered his eyes to her hand, which no longer touched him, but was still stretched in his direction. “I’m sorry. Are you alright?” He brought his fingers to his temple to rub at the sharp pain nagging in his head--and was awarded a nasty shock. Sucking in a gasp of alarm, Alster promptly lowered the hand to his side. “My magic’s returning, but my body’s too compromised to take it all in at once. The energy’s sitting on my skin. See?” He raised his arm, and all the fine hairs were standing on end. “I’m sure my hair is quite a sight, too. For this reason...please refrain from touching me. I’m carrying a charge. On top of harming you, it will activate your magic in response, so…” he sighed in disappointment, “it’s best that we don’t make any contact, for the time being.”
Parched, he enviously eyed the water at his bedside table. But out of fear of generating another electric surge, he did not bring his hand to rest on the tin cup. “I heard you collapsed in the snow, El and...well, I wanted to be here for you, but my magic had other plans and…” he closed his eyes and lowered his head, “I’m sorry. How are you faring? I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you right now to ease the pain. I daresay my proximity might be making things worse. If… if it is, perhaps I can convince Elias or one of the Gardeners to discharge me from the sanctuary.” The tiniest of smirks touched his face. “...Discharge. Absolutely no pun intended, I swear. But if our closeness is not bothering you...well, I’d be loath to leave. That is,” he opened his eyes and met Elespeth’s overbright greens, “if you want me to stay. I realize you’ve seen too much of me over these past weeks. The worst of me. I’m probably not the company you most desire, right now. I’d understand, El...if you don’t want me here.”
“Wow.” Nia whistled over the rim of her tankard and took a contemplative sip, eyebrows raised at the detailed account of the gambler’s lovelife. “So you can tell all that from a person just by looking at them? Do their fears really say as much… or is this just what you learned from the poor bloke’s wife?” She couldn’t help but chuckle as she put the tankard down slowly on the rough wooden table. “You know, you reputation does precede you. No one in this kingdom is any stranger to the fact that you’ll ride anything that’s willing--hey, no judgment on my part, I’m not exactly some virginal idol. But I never would’ve guessed you’d be so personally acquainted with… what, ever asshole’s wife in this place? Or husband, for that matter? Come clean, now.” She nudged his shin playfully beneath the table with the toe of her boot and smirked. “Just how many people in this fine establishment have you become… intimately acquainted with? Honestly, I’m just kind of impressed. Seems like you’re the type who can almost get anyone you damn well want!”
Almost was an operative word, however, and she took note of the way he tapped his forehead and looked at her as if she were revealing more than she wanted to let on. Of course, she never forgot about the pink scar across the side of her throat, and absently rubbed it at the thought of the dark memory it invoked. More often than not, she forgot about the faoladh’s rather invasive gift, but as off-putting as it might have been, she merely shrugged at his vague observation as to exactly why she was so ‘careful’. “We’ve all made some stupid mistakes in our time.” She said flippantly, staring down into her drink to avoid the shapeshifter’s prying golden eyes. “My almost fatal flaw some years ago was that I trusted too easily. Truth be told, I’m sure part of me still does--I mean, look at me now. Cavorting with ‘the enemy’, since technically, we kind of are. Playing on different sides, and all. Maybe I just don’t learn?” She smiled as if to brush off her own concern, and instead focused on Hadwin’s rather generous account of just how many people in the tavern he’d become very closely acquainted with. “Gotta say, that’s damn impressive, though! Where do you find the time to take all these people to bed on top of plotting against the sorceress, hm?”
There was no malice in her voice, though, and it was clear she was only teasing him. “Can’t say I’ve had that many conquests. The other night, I did have my eyes on the guy over there.” she nodded in the direction of a rather attractive young man chatting over ale with a handful of friends on the other side of the room, “He’s sweet. Tends to his family orchard at his home in the farmlands and looks out for his family. Not hard on the eyes, other; not hard to see he keeps in shape. Genuine enough guy, for sure, but it didn’t take much conversation and flirting to glean that he’s had way too many girls, and way too much experience... and I unfortunately can’t take that chance. I personally find the inexperienced ones safest; even more so if they’re virgins. Real shame, though: most of the men in this kingdom seem to have had some prior experience.” The Master Alchemist pushed a dramatic sigh from her lungs. “The untouched and inexperienced ones seem to be few and far between. Does that make me horrible? A woman who prefers deflowering innocent young men?” She snorted into her ale and shook her head, clearly not really caring about how such decisions influenced her moral framework. “Hey, I guess they’ve got to start somewhere, right? Better for them if they get a woman who knows a thing or two about how to take good care of them.
“Unfortunately, I’m sure this means I’ve broken a few too many hearts in my time, as well. Every so often you come across a guy who will fall for the first girl he sees naked, and my lifestyle doesn’t exactly permit me to stay in one place for too long, let alone fall for someone. Though as a man of experience, yourself, I am sure you can relate.”
On the topic of allies and friendship, Hadwin needn’t confirm for her to know that she had already won him over with the ale and the poker game. Again, his reputation was rather widely known, which was what had drawn her to pursue this tentative friendship. Nia was already well aware that she had likely burned a wide variety of other bridges merely by being allied with Locque. Attacking Elespeth Rigas in the forest certainly had not earned her way into anyone’s good graces, and despite what the faoladh said about Alster Rigas, himself, she had her doubts that the powerful celestial mage would want anything to do with her, particularly since Locque had sent him careening through time and space--and she happened to be working for the person who had royally fucked him up. The Forbanne commander and his wife were off the table, considering Sigrid was his cousin, and still under Locque’s thrall, and there wasn’t a hope in the world that she could earn her place on the current Queen’s good side. However… “Who knows--maybe I’ll have a shot with that other Master Alchemist, of yours. I’m rather intrigued to meet him. There aren’t many of us around, and I’m sure he could use an empathetic ear. Word has it he went through more hell than what you’d expect, earning those runes on his hands, considering he was mentored by the biggest sonuvabitch among Master Alchemists. My sister told me about meeting Zenech, once; my mother wouldn’t even do business with him, and that’s saying something, considering she was quite the opportunist. So,” she swished the remaining ale in her stein, “sounds to me like your other dear Master Alchemist--Isidor, is it?--could really use an empathetic ear. And who better but someone who’s suffered almost the same?”
Of course, Hadwin knew where she was going with this train of thought (perhaps the glint in her warm eyes gave it away), and was quick to fill her in on exactly where she was right and wrong in her observations--and the fact that he was hopelessly in love with one of the Rigas casters. Nia almost spit out her ale and succumbed to a brief coughing fit when it ultimately went down the wrong way. “W-wait--what? You’re… are you actually telling me that the guy who grew up, isolated in a fucking tower and who happens to be afraid of his own shadow isn’t a virgin? And he lost it to that resident star seer… Well fuck me. Or not.” She raised her eyebrows and wiped her mouth on the corner of her cloak. “You’re right, though; sounds like he can barely stand himself, let alone the thought of another Master Alchemist. If he thinks himself a monster, then I can’t imagine where I would stand, in his eyes. Damnit, Hadwin, way to ruin my aspirations with all of your truth-telling. I was looking forward to cavorting with another of my like!”
“Miss Nia?”
Someone off to the side captivated the attention of the casually chatting duo. It was the young man from earlier that the Master Alchemist had referenced--a previous conquest that she had decided to abandon. “Brev. Delighted to see you again.” Nia drained her stein and set the pewter heavily upon the table. “I trust the night is treating you well.”
“It is, indeed. I just… the other day, I thought… when we were talking, we were getting on well. But then you up and left rather abruptly, and I…” He fidgeted and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I just wondered… did I say something wrong? If I offended you, somehow, I just wanted to apologize…”
The Master Alchemist sighed quietly through her nose, and averted her gaze to the table. “Are you upset I did not go home with you, Brev?”
“I...I mean…” A furious blush tinted the young man’s face, and he looked away, ashamed. But NIa reached out to touch his arm and get his attention back.
“Listen. I know this is going to sound horrible, and cliche, but you deserve better. Really, you do.”
“What…” Brev frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean, Nia?”
Lifting one hand from the table, Nia swept her locks of glossy brunette hair over her left shoulder, exposing the raised, pink scar on the side of her neck. “I mean exactly what I said: you deserve better. A better person. Do you really think…” She met his eyes, searching for understanding, her tone taking a low and serious pitch, “that good people--truly good people--walk around with a scar like this? Is a fun night between the sheets really worth taking such a risk, Brev? What do you really feel? I’m hardly more than a stranger. And I’ve hardly ever heard of mothers encouraging their children to trust strangers.”
She could see the gears turning behind his eyes, a flicker first of uncertainty, and then fear. At last, he took a step back, with a look on his face suggesting equal amounts of disappointment and understanding. “...take care, Nia.” Was all he said, before leaving to return to the table where he and his friends had been talking across the room.
Nia let out another sigh and raised her hand to signal to the barkeep that both she and Hadwin required a refill. For such a well-paying customer, the man didn’t hesitate to oblige. “Huh. Maybe he’d have been safe; he seems like a good boy. The fact that he expected to find me in his bed suggests it’s still a risk I can’t well take. Better off letting him down now than later.” She shrugged and began to drink her fill of fresh ale. “Guess I can’t blame my utter lack of allies and friends solely on being allied with a certain sorceress. I do happen to be picky about who I choose to trust; lucky you, we seem to have mutual interests in preserving life and mitigating future deaths. I’ll drink to that.” With a grin, she raised her tankard to him and nearly took another satisfying gulp, before he made mention of yet another friendship that sadly hadn’t been long for this world. Looking a little bit dejected, she put her tankard back down.
“Lord Canaveris? He is… well, we seemed to be on quite good terms, for a while. But then I learned that secret you’re referring to. Didn’t even mean to; unfortunately, these hands happen to tell me more than I want to know on a regular basis.” She held up her partially-gloved palms in emphasis. “I didn’t even think much of it. Knew it was a sore spot for him, and never brought it up, but… he learned that I’d found out, inevitably. And I’m not so sure that he would care to see me, again. A shame, too--I like the man. Behind his politics he’s rather genuine. Really cares about the well-being of the D’Marians; just wants to get them back to Stella D’Mare one day, all in one piece. He even…” She was about to mention how he had opened up his home to her, offered it as a safe haven when he’d found out she had none. That all seemed like a moot point by now, however, and ultimately wasn’t worth mentioning, so she left the thought unfinished. “But, if there is one thing I will not do, it is tread where I am not welcome.” Heaving a disappointed sigh and reached into her bodice, off to the side of her breasts, and withdrew a resonance stone that was similar to the one she used to communicate with Hadwin, but it was slightly more green in its undertones. Her link to Aristide. “What? Not like anyone’s going to successfully mug me if I keep what’s important close to my chest--literally.” She smirked and laid the stone upon the table.
“Anyway… you might have better luck asking him, yourself, in case getting me involved ruins your chances. I will say this, though: cut the man some slack. Don’t use what you know to try to achieve your means. He’s an open and generous person, and I’m confident that you’d need only ask for him to take on a commission for him to agree. Hell, he’ll probably be happy to craft something new, given how he destroyed a good chunk of his artworks the last time I saw him. But… why the interest, if you don’t mind me asking?” Nia raised a curious eyebrow and picked up her stein again, bringing it to her full lips. “Whose image are you hoping he’ll craft, for you?”
And then, after a beat, she ventured: “...why is he so afraid of people finding out? His secret, I mean. What does he fear might befall him if others are in the know of his… condition? Or are those reasons beyond the scope of your uncanny fearsight?”
Elespeth hadn’t imagined that his rush of magic would react so violently to her touch. She reeled back at the shock of electricity, her fingertips buzzing, but… he was awake. He was alive, and awake, and he was himself. “Alster, I’m… sorry.” She stammered, simultaneously relieved that he was awake, and dejected that she couldn’t touch him. Noting the way he eyed the tin of water, she picked it up with a dry clothing sitting upon a bedside table, and brought it to his parched lips. “Here; take a drink.” The lack of direct contact with the metal tin was enough of a buffer that neither of them experienced painful bouts of electricity as Alster drank his fill. She took the cup away when it was empty.
“I’m sorry to have worried you,” she said, brushing damp tresses of hair away from her forehead. Her fever had yet to let up, but it at least felt as though it was building toward a breaking point. “I was… as usual, I was being reckless. Not taking care of myself or looking out for my needs. And I’m sorry that… you felt you had to be here. I know you didn’t want to leave that room, and… obviously, for good reason.” It wasn’t entirely a lie: as much as she had wanted to get him out of that room, to afford him more of an opportunity to come back to himself fully, she had not intended for him to be suffering the repercussions of the return of his magic. How was it that time and again, she forgot about just how powerful Alster was?
“Alster, I cannot express how much it is my own fault that I am in this position, landing myself bedridden in the sanctuary yet again… really, you have no idea.” Really, he didn’t. Elespeth took a seat at the edge of her bed and rested her fever-wrought, trembling hands upon her lap. “But I also cannot express just how happy I am that you didn’t want to leave me here alone. You, above anyone else, know how stir crazy this place makes me. I am sick of feeling like I am constantly in a state of recovery…” She would feel guilty, later; it was difficult to feel guilty when she knew how necessary this was. Not only for Alster to recover, but to become reacquainted with his magic, again. “I’m… I’m just glad you’re here, Alster. And I don’t think you should leave. You and I, we don’t have time to be sick and weak and vulnerable. Not with a vengeful sorceress plotting against us. So as much as I’m disappointed I can’t touch you…” She lifted her hands and rested them not on top of his, but next to it, “That can wait. Until we are both well. For now, I just want you to rest… want you to get better. Can you do that for me?”
Drawing back, she dabbed perspiration from her forehead and reclined on her own cot. It had taken everything out of her just to sit up, lift a cup to his mouth, and talk… she was already spent. “I promise to do that same for you.”
“Bit o’ both,” Hadwin replied, dragging the edge of his empty tankard against the table’s grain. “Fears tell me a lot, and I know enough about human nature to fill in the blanks and get the rest right, more often than not. Any supplementary information comes from listening,” he flicked the free lobe of one ear, “either in a fine establishment such as this, or in bed. There’s a good chunk of people who get real chatty and chummy after sex, ‘specially if they’ve come to me to forget about their partner. Ironic, that all they wanna talk about is their partner and what a good for nothing they are, or how boring and unadventurous they’ve become, their dirty, cheating ways...ad nauseum. But I’ll tell ya--I can’t dispense with all the details; gotta protect the interests and secrecy of my clientele. I do a bit of whoring on the side--s’why I said no one in Galeyn would bat an eye over how I get my income. What I can give you though, is an estimate.” Raising his head, he took a quick but thorough scan of the low-lit environment of the tavern, making eye contact with a few of those lucky enough to score a night with him. “The figure’s about one-fourth out of the thirty-three folks present. Galeyn’s a small kingdom so the number’s skewed in my favor. ‘Course, I always find time for carousing. I mean, I have been here awhile. Of and on, yeah, but it’s been months. Lotta downtime in the beginning. Too bad your lady’s not of the sexual persuasion,” he shook his head; not like the vengeful witch could get any more boring, she seemed staunchly against joy and the finer pleasures, as well. “I wanna bag another Queen; two for two. And I obviously ain’t talking Lilica, here.”
Arms stretched towards the ceiling, he moaned in relief as he cracked the muscle groups which had a tendency to bunch and tighten. Shifting at a minimum of every night did an occasional number on his joints; arthritis wasn’t uncommon for older faoladh. Not that he was old. He inwardly spat at the notion. “You’re lonely,” he said, matter-of-fact. “Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of; it’s one of the most common fears imaginable. S’why you wanna place your trust in others. Sucks to be alone. I might not be the safe bet for trust, but I don’t fuck around with sex--funnily enough. Gotta keep things professional; ain’t no shag-n’-shank in my bedroom. I want it to be a moment people remember, not die from, y’know. But if virgins are your thing, whether or not it’s the result of a knee-jerk fear response that’s forever put you off from experienced bastards, then hey, looks like you’ve got a type, and I ain’t shaming your type. No judgement, here. Not when yours truly will fuck anything with a pulse. Though, full disclosure,” he leaned over the table and lowered his voice as if to deliver a juicy secret, “virgins ain’t so innocent, either. They’re just as capable of stabbing you in the back. I should know; I’ve been stabbed. Being in the profession as long as I have, I’ve seen some shit. Nothing surprises me, anymore.”
His gaze trailed after Nia’s, settling on the young farmhand she referenced. With sun-kissed skin and a confident set defining his well-toned shoulders, there was no question the man had been keeping busy outside his duties to the family. “Oh yeah, that guy. He’s only for the ladies; otherwise, I’d been after him, myself. But hey, if it’s virgins you’re looking for, I can put out some feelers. Easy for me to tell who’s had it and who hasn’t; buncha Forbanne still up for grabs if you don’t mind ‘em rough and broken. And lacking in conversational finesse. And dickless. Now those are some virgins that can kill you!” He chuckled. “Sorry to say Isidor ain’t what you’re looking for, though; even I was floored when I discovered he’d gotten it on with the star-seer. Not cuz I didn’t see it coming, but cuz he’s only been in Galeyn for what, like, a handful of months? An’ he’s already deflowered?” He let out a long, impressive whistle. “Hermit’s got game. I’m taking some credit for that, though. She wouldn’t give him the time of day until I ‘helped’ him remember some old trauma he’d been saving for a rainy day. Reason why he hates me, sure, but it attracted Tivia’s attention. It’s complicated now, between them, but he ain’t over her, that’s for certain. Don’t think you’d have stood a chance either way, love.” He shook his tankard from side to side; it looked as though it were apologizing on his behalf. “Gonna slam the bad news on you. It’s a hobby of mine to trample on dreams and then piss on the ashes. He’s had choice words for you ever since he learned of your existence. He’s one self-hating Master Alchemist, and you? You’re just an unwelcome reminder of the hate. Signs that he’ll warm to you? Well,” his fist dipped into the ‘thumbs-down’ position, “they point to ‘no way.’ But hey, not all is lost!” The refilled tankard didn’t stay refilled for long. After four long gulps, he was already calling over the bartender to top off his and Nia’s drinks. By now, he had reached comfortably tipsy. “Lord Fancypants is a virgin. I bet all of tonight’s winnings that I’m right! Not that you’d bet against me because you know I’m right.”
Before they could further discuss the current leader of Stella D’Mare and his rock-hard peculiarities, the aforementioned farmhand broke from his group of friends to approach their table. How bold of him, to make a move while she was in the company of a man well-known for his promiscuity. He raised a bushy eyebrow at the farmhand as if to say, ‘Feeling threatened, are you?’
Sitting back on his chair, he sipped on his ale and passively watched Nia rebuff the poor bloke’s advances, deriving entertainment out of seeing his shoulders deflate. Packing up his wounded pride, Brev limped to the bar in retreat, ready to wash down his defeat with plenty of ale.
“Damn!” Hadwin slapped his hand on the table. An amused chuckled followed in its wake. “You sure gave him the boot. That’s one way to scare off a good ol’ boy. Hell, he was afraid to start; afraid I was gonna take you away from him and he’d lose his opportunity, so he risked it all, coming up to you in this fashion. Hah! If the blighter only knew neither of us is fit for your pickings. Eh, I wouldn’t worry too much ‘bout him; the kid’s got prospects. I can’t gobble all of ‘em up, even if I tried.”
In spite of the froth overflowing at the rims, their tankard and stein, when struck in an impromptu toast, left behind a hollow, ringing after-echo. The sound hadn’t occurred in reality, but it alerted Hadwin to the reverberation of familiar fears bouncing around Nia’s mindscape. “Don’t I know it?” he cooed in commiseration. “I’m always seeing fear. After a while, you get desensitized to it, and you learn to make it work for you, but terror’s always gonna be your bread and butter. It’s in your fabric or whatever. It rules you. It’s what rules Rowen. The darkness. If you let it, after a while, it’s all you see. Guess that’s why she and Locque get along,” he snorted in his drink, an irreverent reaction to dispel the ghosts that clung to his dialogue and haunted it, sure as the ghost in the corner always haunted him. “But about Lord Fancypants. Yeah, I’ve a project in mind for him.” Setting down the half-full tankard, he whipped out his pipe and stuffed the bowl with a black, tar-like substance. “You know The Missing Links, yeah? So Briery’s been down since my wee darling sister sank her teeth into the cygnet’s delicate neck. Sure, there’s a rose bush in her honor at the Night Garden, but I was thinking of a more fitting tribute. A flashy one. Something that’ll immortalize her. And then it hit me; well, why not use stone? We’ve got references aplenty to capture her likeness.” He purloined the long stick resting beside the table’s lantern and lowered it into the flickering flame. A tongue licked the stick, setting the one end alight. “Hey, it’ll look good for the new Lord of Stella D’Mare, too. Setting aside time in his busy schedule to honor the dead and all. He can even make it a series, featuring everyone else who kicked it.” As he circled the lit stick over the bowl, he blew and puffed into the long stem like he was tuning an instrument. Once the pipe started to smoke, he doused out the stick and returned it to the lantern’s side. “Not that I’m thinking so far ahead. Just looking for the one statue.”
His gaze redirected to the cracked green stone, which she fished out of the crevice between her breasts and clanked upon the table. “If you were looking to give yourself a more ample bosom, Nia, rocks wouldn’t be my first choice of stuffing,” he teased, streaming a long line of silver-gray pipesmoke from his mouth. “Say what you will, but I doubt I’d have better luck. It’d be odd if he heard another garbled voice on his receiving end when he expects yours; might even think I stole it for some nefarious purpose--or you gave it away. He’ll know we’ve been talking about him and fear that I now know his secret--which, to be fair, is true, but not cuz of you. And even if he suspects nothing...I’ve said like, two words to him. It’d be more personable just to knock on the door.” With his free hand, he pushed the stone across the table, returning it to her side. “To answer your question, though--I know exactly why he’s afraid. The reasons span in the dozens, but I’ll give you the most pertinent few.”
Knocking down the last of the ale, he pushed it to the table’s edge to signal another refill. “Back in the day, his family got into some highly illegal shit. The details are lost on me, but if word would’ve gotten out then, hell, if word were to get out now, the Canaveris name would be smeared. Ari’s a walking result of those illicit dealings. He wasn’t born like this or anything. He was cursed by...a creature of some sort. But here’s something real juicy.” He took a few extra long puffs on his pipe, soaking in her anticipation. “Even for Stella D’Mare, a magically and alchemically progressive city, what the Canaveris family did next would have been called into question by their peers, especially their direct rival, the Rigases, so they’re adamant about keeping it secret. They sought a Master Alchemist to reverse the curse. Believe it or not, he suffered a worse condition, as a tot. Was nearly petrified to stone. They owe a lot to that Master Alchemist. Seems like they’re one of few families who actually respect ‘em.” He gave Nia a significant look.
“So that’s one fear, down; fear of destroying the Canaveris reputation. He also fears getting close to people--for obvious reasons. They’ll discover who--or what--he is, and reject him out of repulsion. And if someone were to understand, he’s afraid of his dick turning hard inside her. And I mean actually hard. Stone hard. So he’s resigned to a celibate life keeping an emotional and physical distance towards people who aren’t his immediate family. Then,” he ticked off another finger, “--oooh yeah, I’m not done yet, he fears that whoever discovers his curse will exploit him for personal gain, cuz he has everything to lose. A lot going on with your Canaveris mate--excuse me, former mate. But,” he tilted his head to one side in inquiry, “are you sure he wouldn’t want to see you again? Seems you’re his match; you’re not repulsed, you don’t wanna exploit him, you don’t care to ruin his family name, and you’re a Master Alchemist. Say,” he half drew out of his chair to loom over the table, “let’s go knock on his door. Tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. Before we surrender. I wanna see for myself how you two cats interact. See if he’s more afraid of you or of the worst-case scenario. If it’s the latter, the former can be fixed--if he learns to trust you. Could be a tall order, though.” Lowering back into his seat, he scrunched his face in thought. “Your loyalties don’t align. Considering who you work for… by default, you’re not exactly trustworthy. No matter how transparent and helpful you are, public opinion’s not gonna sway in your favor anytime soon. Hate to say it, but you’re gonna have a difficult time befriending anyone on the other side. Civil discourses might happen, but nothing beyond surface level, really. Trust is something folks can’t afford right now.”
Upon receiving the cup from Elespeth, Alster hesitated. Even when wrapped in dry cloth, proximity alone could be enough to generate a host of shocks. His aura writhed with activity. The air moved; breathing felt like inhaling tiny worms; they wriggled in his body and over his skin and in the water he tentatively drank. Amid pushing down the water, he shivered from the zings and zaps that traveled in the narrow spaces between him and Elespeth’s helping hand. The shocks they shared weren’t as pronounced as those delivered by direct contact, but the active--and very loud--buzzing in the air was enough to worry him into quick, reckless gulping. The speed at which he introduced cool water to his gullet rendered him into a coughing attack so fierce, it racked his body and drew the clamp behind his eyes ever tighter.
“I’m sorry.” Raw from coughing, his voice barely came out in a squeeze. “I’ll have to ask Elias...to hook me to the tube again. Until I stabilize. I’ve already risked everyone’s safety, time, and resources over these last few weeks. The least I can do...is be obedient and as unobtrusive as possible. But,” he aimed a small smile at Elespeth, “we’re in the right place for an expedited recovery. I don’t know how that will change once Locque takes the palace. I can’t imagine she’ll want me to stay, so I’ll have to take utmost care of my health. I’ve burned my bridges with the D’Marian Village, so I can’t return there. I suppose I’ll be living in exile.” His smile twinged in irony. “How fitting.”
Really, you have no idea. He knew that tone. Beyond being reckless, there was something...premeditated, and thus, a little suspicious, about how she phrased her remorse. It helped that he could see the outer fringes of her aura; they sang at frequencies of desperation mixed with deceit. He caught the truth somewhere in the middle. “Did you purposely overexert yourself so that I would leave my room?” It came out of him before he could formulate the appropriate words. By the guilt-stricken look on her face, he wasn’t wrong. Lowering his head, he shuddered out a frustrated sigh. “You couldn’t trust I’d leave on my own? After I recovered? El,” he stared down at his hands, sprawled uncomfortably apart: organic and steel, “I just wanted some time, as much as I could squeeze, to feel...human. To just let myself feel human. To rest, and to build up the strength to reintegrate my magic without having...this reaction.” He gestured to the cloud of buzzing energy that had enveloped him. “Why couldn’t I have that? Why wouldn’t--” he trailed off, biting his lip. “No, El...I shouldn’t be upset. I don’t have any right to be upset. You shouldn’t trust me. I broke your trust. Who knows if I’ll ever repair it? This is my punishment. I said you could punish me.” Dejected, he lay back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling. “There wouldn’t have been anything I could have done...if your stunt ended you in a dire condition or worse. Was it really worth the risk? To create an emergency to draw me out? Was it really that important for me to leave? El…” his heavy lids pulled to a close, “I think I stopped being worth the risk...a long time ago.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Virginity isn’t synonymous with innocence. But it’s not exactly innocence I’m looking for. Hell, it’s not like I can claim innocence in any way.” Nia snorted and nursed her ale, the heady beverage bringing a flush to her cheeks and warming her from the inside out. “But you’ve got to admit, virgins--especially virgin men--have something of an… insecurity, I’d say, when it comes to being approached by a woman with more experience than them. And if you’re insecure about what you can do with your own body, let alone someone else’s, then even if you intend to harm them, there’s that little seed of doubt that you can follow through on either frink. Which, frankly, is all I’m looking for. The nervous ones, the doubtful ones… hey, in the end, we both win. They get experience and an ego boost, and I get to forget about my troubles for a half hour. Although… I suppose you do have a point.”
The Master Alchemist laughed into her tankard at the mention of castrated Forbanne soldiers. “I think I’ll pass on the feral, dickless giants, thanks. I’m not sure they’re all that interested in another person’s touch, anyway, and you’re right--they’d have no trouble doing me in. Nice to know you take the moral high ground when it comes to fucking, at least.” She couldn’t help but chuckle at the obvious pride that Hadwin harbored for his sexual prowess and rules of the bedroom that he refused to bend to preserve the sanctity of getting hot and bothered with another person. “It’s not so much that I don’t believe you--because I do. But as untrustworthy as I might be, it does go both ways. We’re still technically playing for different sides, and even if we can find some middle ground… well, I doubt that the sorceress would be particularly happy to find out I shared a bed with you. Not to mention, your sister would probably--no, she would tear me to bloody ribbons. I might be crafty, but I’m not much of a fighter; I don’t know if I could fend her off as a human or a wolf!” Nia shook her head with a grim smile. “So as much as I like you--and that’s not shit that I lie about--I think it would be in the interest of survival for the both of us if we kept our bedroom conquests separate. But, hey--I am entirely up for taking whatever virgins you want to throw my way! You seem like the better candidate for sniffing them out. For me, it’s all guess work. But there is absolutely not bet in assuming Lord Canaveris is a virgin; I’d be throwing my damn money away. The man won’t let anyone touch him.” She shook her head in what appeared to be a bemused look of pity for Stella D’Mare’s new stand-in leader. “What the hell do you expect?”
Contrary to the amusement that Hadwin drew from her rejection of the sweet, handsome farmhand, Nia’s smile faded around the corners, revealing just a glimpse of her disappointment. She drew her finger around the rim of her stein. “Yeah; guess I kind of fucked that one up, didn’t I?” She sighed, glancing briefly over her shoulder at a dejected Brev as he spoke to his friends. Likely talking shit about her to make the young man feel better. “He was harmless. I had a feeling, but… I don’t know. I guess I’m too paranoid. One bad experience can really colour the rest of the world for you, can’t it? Honestly, I don’t even know why I bother. Sex isn’t exactly relaxing for me; truth be told, I don’t even get off on it. The bastard who left me with this unsightly reminder kind of ruined that for me for my days to come, I guess.” She rubbed at the scar on her neck. Though it had been years since she’d received it, there were times when she was sure it still hurt. “I think I just find it appealing to forget about everything for a while. And to not be the only one in a situation that feels vulnerable. It passes the time and keeps demons and boredom away. Though I suppose I can say the same for you, to an extent.” She nodded at his pipe in one hand, and his tankard in the other, and flashed a knowing grin.
“From one to another who uses alcohol and sex to keep their mind off of shit, I can only imagine, having a sister like Rowen, the kind of crap that you must be trying hard not to think about. No judgement, here; not like I can see what bothers you the way that you can see into others’ heads. But you’re the first person I’ve met who can keep up with my drinking without passing out prematurely. I’m not complaining.”
Nia snorted at the faoladh’s comment about achieving a more ‘ample bosom’ and crossed her arms defiantly across the aforementioned area. “Get real; if I had any more of this, I’d probably have chronic back pain.” She joked, knowing full well that she was perfectly well endowed--at least when life afforded her the opportunity to eat her fill whenever taking on a difficult job that required her alchemical prowess. “But anyway… that’s a rather sweet endeavour you wish to embark upon. A lifelike imitation of the lost for your dear friend. That’s just the sort of story that I am certain would touch Lord Canaveris, I think; it seems as though he is of the persuasion of having a softer heart. Might have something to do with being an artist. But, hells, you could be any old bloke off of the street and pose a story like that, and he’d be all over it. I guarantee you don’t need me to make the request for you. Like I said, Canaveris is… he is a good man. Moreso than what he shows to the people of Stella D’Mare as Alster Rigas’s staunch rival and critic. Better yet,” she picked up the resonance stone and fumbled it between her fingers. “Why not bring your acrobat friend with you and pay him a visit? Hearing the story from her would be a one-hundred-percent guarantee of winning him over.”
She was all ears when he delved into the reasons for Aristide’s paranoid and his guarded nature pertaining to his affliction. So this has been something he had suffered all his life… and already, someone that he had trusted, that he had thought he’d loved, had exploited his deepest secret and darkest fears for their own gain. It all made sense: fear of bringing shame to his name, being exploited all over again, choosing to live in a shadow in favour of safety than living a more open life at risk of being found out. Almost all of that, she could have determined herself, after some pensive consideration, but one small detail that Hadwin mentioned had her all but spitting out her ale, and succumbing to a coughing fit when it went down the wrong way. As she’d already mentioned, it didn’t take an expert to determine that Aristide Canaveris was a virgin: how could he not be, when he was so averse to being touched? What hadn’t crossed her mind was the fear of what might happen if he overcame that aversion, and decided to venture into the uncharted territory of intimacy.
“I… you’re not even joking.” Coughing into her sleeve and clearing her throat from residual irritation, the Master Alchemist put her tankard down to take a break. “Hadwin… Hadwin, I am so damned happy I’m hearing this from you, and not him. Because in an alternate universe, if Lord Canaveris were at all interested in losing his virginity to the likes of me, there is no possible way I’d have been able to keep a straight face if he confided that he was nervous of becoming afflicted with a permanent erection. I… seriously!” She couldn’t help herself; she laughed. Not because it was not a legitimate concern on Aristide’s part, or because she could not sympathize with the poor man, but primarily because she was drunk; and partially because he must have been the only man in the entire world with a concern such as that. For most, they had the very opposite problem, such as that gambler who had hoped to land her in his bedroom: they couldn’t get it up in the first place.
When she regained her composure and took a few gasping breaths, Nia took another, steadier drink of ale and shook her head. “Wow; I’m a real bastard. That’s no laughing matter, having pieces of you turn to stone! It would be horrifying in the moment, I’m sure. It’s just… so absurd. But also totally plausible. Gods, that poor man, too afraid to venture into the unknown because he never knows what will be turning to stone next. And there’s no damned mage in Stella D’Mare that can lift a curse like that? Sadly, that is out of my jurisdiction, along with that of probably every other Master Alchemist in existence. We’re kind of shit at lifting curses because that’s magic’s domain, and we deal in the physical and relatively tangible. Although, turning a stone appendage back to flesh and blood and bone would be a piece of cake.” Knocking back the remainder of her drink, finally pushed the stein aside. When you lost track of refills and your vision began to grow blurry along the edges, that was when it was time to stop. “Last we met, I think part of his hand began to turn to stone. I offered to help him, but he was too terrified that I’d found out and just wanted me out of his house. Don’t blame him; you’re completely right. He’s got no reason to trust me. No one in this kingdom, does; if the shoe were on the other foot, I wouldn’t trust me! But… I can still hope, can’t I? That things will change once change settles in. Once everyone realizes they’re no longer in danger, and that just because I’m working for someone who found her way to the Galeynian throne through nefarious means, I’m not really the villain type. Morally flexible, maybe, but that just has to do with survival. And once the sorceress has what she wants… well, my survival will be in the bag!”
Despite her well-intended suggestion to approach Aristide himself, with Briery in tow, Hadwin seemed more determined that the two of them visit one Lord Canaveris together to make his plea. Had she been sober, and level-headed, Nia probably would have declined. It had been quite a while--well over a week, maybe close to two, since the ill-fated stumble Ari had taken toward the fireplace, forcing her to reach out and catch him… and have all of that trust and camaraderie shatter at her feet like the statues he’d turned to dust. He had not reached out to her, nor she to him, since she’d left late that night. Truly, she didn’t know if he wanted to see or hear from her again… and part of her had been avoiding finding out the truth for fear of it. Because if he despised her for knowing his secret, then that was something she would prefer to go on not knowing.
“Why do I feel like this is less about commissioning a statue for your dear, grieving friend, and more about your curiosity in the man and the dynamic between us?” She snorted and raked a hand through her hair, leaning far back in her seat. “Okay; I’ll bite. If he cares to have company tomorrow, I’ll go with you. But better make sure, first; I’m not sure he really appreciates last minute drop-ins.”
Standing, and maintaining impeccable balance for one who’d been drinking all evening, Nia, snatched up her cloak and temporarily stepped outside of the rowdy tavern to make sure her message got through loud and clear. A moment later, she returned, and replaced the resonance stone where she’d taken it from the inside corner of her bodice. “You’re in luck; he’s not opposed to visitors tomorrow morning. Not sure he’s entirely happy about it, either, but at least he’s not opposed. Hard to decipher tone when you talk through these things. Well,” she stretched and rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m afraid I think it’s time I tap out. I’m already very drunk, and if we’re getting up early enough to arrive at the D’Marian settlement for mid-morning, then I’d better get some rest--and some water into me. If I’d properly planned for this, I wouldn’t have set myself up for a hangover. Meet me back here tomorrow with a carriage before breakfast and I’ll accompany you on this oh-so-noble venture. Oh, and here.”
Before she left, she flicked a single, solid gold coin toward Hadwin. He caught it in his palm. “In case you want to keep drinking. I did say tonight was on me.” With a final wink, Nia inquired with the bartender about getting a room, slid him some coins, and then took the leftmost staircase in the establishment, key in hand.
“Hey--take it easy,” Elespeth urged, wanting so badly to reach out to him as he succumbed to coughing, but thinking better of it. “I could… if my magic is harming you, I could inquire into getting something to nullify it, for the time being. It isn’t as developed as yours, but if it is still reactive, then I wouldn’t mind shutting it off. I don’t… want you to have to recover in isolation.” If that hadn’t mattered, then she would have left him in that warded room. “Don’t worry about anything but your own recovery. I have already spoken with Hadwin about Locque… and he has her Master Alchemist’s ear. He already passed on the message that our surrender is contingent on the witch leaving you the hell alone, regardless of whether you choose to surrender to her. It’s non-negotiable; if she is insistent on harming you, then there will be no surrender. Lilica and Chara would agree. But like hell will I let you live in exile, Alster.”
Pressing her lips together, she sat forward on her bed, leaning as close to him as she could safely get without letting sparks fly. “And wherever you go… I am going with you. I’ve seen Aristide Canaveris since your… disappearance. If Locque promises to keep her hands off of you, then there shouldn’t be a problem residing in the D’Marian village. Aristide has been trying to gain Lilica’s alliance, anyway, so extending a helping hand to you--to us--would solidify that. Alster, regardless of what happens, you will not stand alone… do you understand?”
Her husband was silent for a moment, looking particularly contemplative, and she did not expect the next words that came out of his mouth--did not expect that she would be revealed so soon. “I-I… it was…” It was too late; he knew, and no amount of lying or derailing would change that. Flushed with embarrassment and guilt on top of her fever, the former knight turned her gaze to her knees. “...are you angry?” She asked softly, hearing her own heartbeat in her ears. “I won’t blame you if you are. It wasn’t that… I didn’t trust you. But you need to recover, Alster, and fast; we all do. We literally have no time to be down and out, and we simply couldn’t afford the wait. So I… I took things into my own hands. I manipulated you, knowingly, and I’m… sorry. I’m sorry that I was dishonest, but…” She looked up, her eyes feverbright, yet determined. “...but I’m not sorry that I did it. I would do it again. I do regret that you reacted to the return of your magic so violently, and I want to be here to help you get through that. But the fact remains that we need you, Alster. That room, warded against your magic, was for the Alster the didn’t care. Not for the one that does… can’t you see? None of us can afford the opportunity to feel human, right now. We… we are surrendering as early as in three days. We have run out of time.”
Sighing, she pulled back and laid her feverish form upon her own cot, staring up at the low ceiling. “I’d have been fine. I had Hadwin to spot me; he took me here when I collapsed. If nothing else, I can count on him to support me through a terrible idea…” Elespeth smiled faintly to herself. “If what I did makes me a horrible person and an even worse wife, Alster, then I’ll happily accept that. I’ll accept that before I see my friends--and my husband--fall to a merciless witch. You have nothing to apologize for; you went dark and amoral for a while, and I became manipulative to get you back to where you needed to be. Consider us on equal footing. But, Alster,” she sighed and closed her eyes. Staring for too long made the room begin to spin before her vision. “You are worth the risk. I have faith in you; it’s time you had a little faith in me, too.”
Contrary to his closed-eyed repose, a position better suited for slumber than for conversation, Alster perked an attentive ear towards Elespeth, mindful of her reasoning and the sense it made. She was right. Due to his reckless actions, she, Lilica, and the others had stalled for time, risking the kingdom’s safety and Locque’s wrath so he could recover without interruption. Now that he more or less regained cohesion and cohesiveness, they expected him to reclaim the mantle he tossed aside and contribute to the plans he’d so carelessly disrupted. They invested in him to be well, because they needed his magic. He had no time for ordinary; it was a pipe dream he entertained, nothing practical or realistic. Alster Rigas would never be synonymous with ‘ordinary’ or ‘human.’ Extraordinary; other-human--those were the monikers he inherited at birth. Deluded was he to ever believe he could retire in simplicity, free of his self-defining magic. Did he even desire powerlessness and obscurity, or was he misinterpreting those desires as a cry for rest...for peace?
I’m a fool. Peace isn’t achievable for me. I won’t be satisfied if I can’t lend aid and be useful to my friends and community. It was easy to fantasize about a human existence when I didn’t have any magic, but now...it’s getting harder to envision such a far-flung, impossible goal. Achieving peace isn’t possible because I’ll never stop fighting for it...and so, it will always float out of my reach.
“I was being selfish,” he whispered low in his throat. “Because I’m confused. I don’t know who to be. To fight the monster at our door, I became a monster. You helped me defeat that monster; I pushed him back. He’s resting. Now, you say there isn’t time to be human. Who should I be, then? Human? A monster?” At great expense to his comfort, he opened his eyes and sought Elespeth. The sharp pangs behind his eyes, which had begun to settle into manageable numbness, pounded and wrenched as he twisted his head. “There’s an inherent duality in me, El. I’m two halves inhabiting one soul. I don’t know how to be whole. I can act whole...is this what everyone wants? Is this...what you want?”
Of course it was. Elespeth could say otherwise, underlining how he had the freedom to present as he so chose, but did he? People had expectations and he daren’t thwart them. He was a servant, doomed to please, doomed to care. What were the alternatives? Refusal to cooperate? Abandonment? Self-imprisonment? In the past few weeks alone, he’d done all three. What did he gain? Nothing but solitude and existential dread. He hated allowing his vindictive half to engulf him, hated the stress he’d caused everyone who worked his case, hated the taste of failure and guilt the aftermath left in his mouth, hated how he hurt and manipulated and deceived, all to further along his agenda.
He could ask Elespeth how she wanted him to act, but whatever her answer, he knew one fundamental truth about himself: he wanted to help, to care--to be kind. Beyond answering people’s expectations, they were what he expected for himself. Because to do otherwise challenged his values to such a degree, it literally split his soul in twain. Amid questioning his personhood and figuring out just who he was, he could, in the meantime, continue to exercise kindness, a decision he was certain Elespeth would approve. However much he changed, as long as his core didn’t, perhaps...perhaps he could navigate his crisis of self. Perhaps...he would be alright.
“It will be fine, El. I’m not angry. You did what you had to do. If you say you had things under control, then,” his head bobbed against the pillow, “then I believe you. Only, I’m a little boggled, here. Hadwin was spotting you? Did I miss something while I was incapacitated?” His eyebrows carved perplexed furrows into his forehead. “Since when did you become friends?”
Amusing--and concerning--as Elespeth’s ‘friendship’ with the faoladh had manifested in his post-feverish mind, he wore away the thought and focused on tangible subject matter that he could better explain and understand. “It is too soon for me to seek sanctuary in the very village I threatened with the nightmarish form of the Serpent. Even if Lord Canaveris does explain my reasoning behind the staged attack and vouchsafe my return, I highly doubt I’ll be accepted and welcomed back warmly. The D’Marians deserve to feel a modicum of safety and control. If I’m present and free to roam, unpunished, then I will divide the community. I am too polarizing a figure, Elespeth. I can’t expect clemency after revealing my monstruous hand. I was prepared to accept whatever consequence I’d receive for my performance--exile included. Alas, I refuse to disturb their tenuous peace. I’ll find another place. Perhaps the farmhouse, if I am welcome there.” He paused to collect whatever dregs of saliva clung to his mouth and swallowed its pitiful amount to lubricate the soreness of his bone-dry throat. “If you wish to join me, El...then I’d appreciate the company. But I’ve taken too much from you, and I won’t ask to keep endangering yourself for me. Please think hard on what you wish to do, and where you’d prefer to be. A strategic method of approach for you would be to remain in the palace so you can be my eyes and ears. Through you, I can observe the situation remotely. But,” his eyes, tender from the pinions of sharp light creeping past the shunted curtains, squeezed back shut, “neither can I deny that we do better when we are together. In the meantime...we have a few days to decide. For now, let’s just concentrate on a quick and painless recovery.”
Following his night out at the tavern, Hadwin, riding off his buzz, traveled via Night steed to the palace and immediately informed Briery of their last-minute audience with the acting leader of Stella D’Mare, detailing her on the ‘why’ behind seeking Aristide’s involvement. If the sculptor could capture Cwenha’s likeness down to the correct proportions, then Isidor would have a better reference by which to render the image from stone to flesh. To prepare, Briery and Hadwin collected the memorabilia donated by the Silver Fairy’s most ardent and artistic of fans and carefully packed it in the carriage the next morning as one would a cherished tome of memories. Owing to the time of day, the journey to the D’Marian village took the duo a little over an hour, but they didn’t mind jostling about in close quarters. At least, he didn’t mind.
The carriage rolled to a stop once they reached the crest of the hill whereupon the Canaveris villa sat, nestled near a rock overhang. They met with Nia on the grounds outside the main entrance. The Master Alchemist stumbled over to greet them, an unsteady swagger not swung on purpose but representative of the lingering aftereffects of last night’s ale. By comparison, Hadwin appeared unaffected, navigating through sunlight and foot-travel without a hitch in his step or shielding of his eyes, a fact that earned him some envy from Nia, whose tired glare he caught in his periphery.
On arrival to the entrance, the oaken doors swung open, revealing a man whose size and girth could rival a non-castrated Forbanne soldier. Aristide’s manservant, decidedly non-human by the smell of him, welcomed them through the doors, into the open-air courtyard, past the stone menagerie, and inside the parlor on the opposite end.
“Take a seat,” the clay-smelling manservant swept a meaty hand towards the plush sofas, arranged in a circle meant for social calls. “Lord Canaveris will be with you shortly.”
After the burly man departed, Hadwin scrambled off the sofa and toured the parlor, marveling at the hand-made furnishings, the gilded paintings. and the variegated colors of the glowing rock chandelier overhead. But what truly got his attention was the wall lined with glass decanters ranging in different sizes and liquids.
“Damn, this man’s got style,” the faoladh whistled his approval, hands roving over, but not touching, the impressive collection of very expensive, very strong booze. “He’s got my undivided attention. No wonder he’s the D’Marian leader now; he’s tasteful as fuck.”
Within a few minutes, a courtesy knock on the door gave way to the raven-haired Lord, bedecked in a flared longcoat of billowing length and sporting a blackwood cane tipped in silver. “My sincerest apologies for the wait,” Aristide bowed from the waist, reverently acknowledging his three guests. “How do you find your accommodations? May I offer anyone a drink?”
“First off,” Hadwin settled on the couch beside Briery, “hell yeah, I’d love a drink. Second, loving your jaunty cane, Ari. Can I call you Ari?”
“Ah, thank you,” he leaned the cane against the outside of the doorframe. “And yes, I do prefer to go by Ari. Lord Canaveris is too impersonal. Restricting. Not that I am aiming to destroy boundaries by the simple defiance of placing a nickname’s importance over high society’s pressures that demand nobility wear titles to earn respect from their peers, but then again,” he smiled a tight-lipped smile, “yes, I suppose that is my aim. Let us dispense with Lord Canaveris entirely. I am Ari. I remember you, Hadwin Kavanagh.” His soil-dark eyes met with the Master Alchemist, expression betraying nothing but the warmth of hospitality. “Miss Nia. Lovely to see you again. It has been too long.” He pivoted on his cane to face the unknown third guest. “Miss Briery Frealy. May I say how it is an honor to speak with the ringleader of the Missing Links? You and your troupe have done wonders to bolster the D’Marians’ low morale during our trying times of transience and transition.”
“Well, that’s great news, all around,” Hadwin effused. “If you’re a fan of the show, then you’ll like our request.”
“Yes, I do recall Miss Nia mentioned you had asked for my help on a specific matter.” Ari waltzed to the shelves of spirits, his walk fluid and not made of lead--or in his case, stone. Like the white gloves he donned, the cane served both as decoration and cover-up in the event of an emergency. While there was no current emergency, Hadwin could detect that he anticipated and feared a flare-up--because Nia was present. “Consider me your humble servant. But before we discuss business, please enjoy this beverage.” He poured four glasses one-third full of a caramel-colored substance selected from the top-most shelf. “This is a brandy-fortified D’Marian wine. Sweet on the palate, and aromatized with clove, ginger, citrus peel, coriander, and juniper, among other spices. Do excuse the poorly presentation; I would normally add a lemon slice as a garnish, but considering the season, and the geographic location, certain resources are at a premium.” He added three of the four crystal glasses on a silver tray and passed it around the room to his guests. Hadwin happily snared his share, but refrained from throwing it down his gullet in one fell swoop. Ari had meant for it to be savored, appreciated. In his dealings with the absurdly wealthy, the faoladh knew how to charm noblemen. Stroke their pride, feed them compliments, eat and drink as one would handle a delicate, and edible, work of art. So he did--by taking from the glass one dainty sip at a time.
“Shame I never got to drink in one of your fine D’Marian establishments, Ari,” Hadwin tutted in regret. “Sounds like the place had one hell of a scene, if this spirit’s anything to go by.”
“Oh, it was.” Equipped with a glass, Ari took a seat on a chair within the circle of sofas, separate from his guests. “We D’Marians do enjoy good wine and good food. Conservative nations up North have condemned our lifestyle as hedonistic and excessive, but I see their condemnation as a compliment. Are they not also implying that we have an overabundance of culture? And tell me, how is that wrong?”
“Not wrong at all, I agree,” Hadwin grinned a toothy smile. “The livelier a place, the better. Save the mediocrity for the priggish, holier-than-thou types, right?”
“Indeed.” With a splash to wet his lips, Ari set the glass on an end table and steepled his gloved fingers upon his lap. “Now, what may I do for you?”
The faoladh nodded to his ringleader companion. “Yeah, so I’ll cut to the chase. Heard you’ve got a real talent as a sculptor. We saw your stuff on the way in and it’s safe to say: hell yeah, you do! So here’s my proposal, straight and simple.” He leaned forward on the sofa, honing in on Ari. “We lost our own a few months back. If you’re seen a show or two, you know ‘er as the Silver Fairy--Cwenha. Robbed of life way before her time--from my sister, no less. So we’re looking for a nice way to immortalize her. Sure, she’s got the rose bushes in the Night Garden and it’s a nice nod, but we’re looking for something memorable, y’know. Years down the line, folks are gonna forget about that rose bush and who it represents. But you see a statue and, whether or not you know that person, you can take a crack at the story behind the woman. That’s what we wanna do. Tell her story. Leave her a legacy. Everyone wants to be remembered and hell, maybe it’ll quell her restless spirit. So,” he tilted his head at the nobleman in the chair, “Whaddaya say? We’ve got references aplenty. And Brie here’s a seamstress, among other things, a right good one at that,” he gave the ringleader a fond nudge, “so she can give you numbers: height, measurements, whatever the hell you need to make a to-scale replica of our dearly departed. ‘Course, we’d compensate you. Not looking for something outta nothing.”
“Hmm.” Ari tapped his chin, expression thoughtful. “Fortunately, you have come to me at an opportune time. I’ve cleared a lot of clutter from my villa and workshop and am in an abundance of workable stone. What you ask for is a beautiful tribute, and it is one I cannot decline. Consider your request heard and received. There is nothing of monetary value I have neither want nor need for, so you needn’t worry about a method of payment. The honor alone is enough for me.”
“Y’sure?” He directed a quick, conspiratorial wink at Nia. “Cuz I’m sure Nia here would be more than happy to offer her Master Alchemist services in exchange. Wouldn’t be monetary at all, but you’d get something useful outta your time and effort. Even better, you wouldn’t feel like you owe her for anything. A favor for a favor. Gotta ensure your hands don’t freeze up while you’re working, y’know. Protect the interests of the sculptor, we get what we want--everyone’s happy, no?”
Following Hadwin’s subtext-loaded speech, a long, uncomfortable pause drifted between the hosting Lord and his guests. Ari turned his head incrementally towards Nia, as if to question her propriety. Before he could do so, Hadwin elbowed through the silence.
“I know what you’re thinking and the answer is ‘no.’ She didn’t make a peep. I see fears, Ari. Secrets come with the territory. No worries, though. You know who’s got me under her thumb. She’d eat me alive if I spilled to folks not already in the know. So relax--you’re good.”
