She hadn't meant to stumble upon Alucard's castle, nor infringe on his markedly thin hospitality. Still, she had little choice once he decided to take her in, set on nursing her back to health even though he seemed to find the very sight of her contemptible.
Are the castle walls enough to keep her past at bay? Or will she become yet another ghost wandering the crumbling halls?
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The Last of the Silverboughs
Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion x Named Tav
Halsin struggles to put his past to rest, but it's haunting him in more ways than he realizes. He'd thought his time in the Underdark was long behind him, an unpleasant pitfall of youthful hubris, but remnants of his captivity remain, the youngest of which unwittingly stumbles to his rescue.
Lythra can't stop running from her past--hasn't, since she managed to make it out of the Underdark. She has no love for Menzoberranzan, or her House, or anything she left behind in the dark. Or nearly anything.
Still, she'd rather die than return--a prospect all the more likely with a tadpole jammed behind her eye. But perhaps, with the help of a renown druidic healer, she can go back to what remains of her half-life in the sun.
Masterlist AO3
Strawberry Blond
Stardew Valley, Elliott x Named Farmer/OC
Felicity Ward was working at a top publisher as a rising editor, seemingly living her dream life. She had the prestigious job, successful boyfriend, beautiful apartment overlooking the parkâand yet, she gave it all up when she heard of her grandfatherâs passing, moving back to the family farm without telling a soul.
Itâs not hard for the mysterious new farmer to catch the eye of Pelican Townâs resident reclusive writer, though the more he gets to know her, the less exciting and more worrying he finds unraveling her secrets.
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Bluebell
Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid x OC
After being abruptly transferred to the BAU at what she suspects was Gideon's request, Cassie Boann struggles to find her footing. Shy and solitary by nature, the transition is made all the more difficult when Dr. Spencer Reid seems to take an almost immediate dislike to her. Unfortunately for them both, their respective areas of expertise leave them paired off more often than not. But when Cassie's past literally starts hunting her, Spencer is forced to consider that he might, in fact, not hate her at all.
Quite the opposite, actually.
Masterlist (Out of Date, being updated) AO3 (Up to Date)
To Inherit the Night
Fire Emblem Three Houses, Hubert von Vestra x OC
Cecily Leclerc will do whatever it takes to eradicate Those Who Slither in the Dark, even if it means killing the man she's loved since the Academy. That is, until her brother Yuri is captured, his life taken hostage for hers.
Hubert will do anything to help Edelgard realize her dream. No cost is too high--except, perhaps, the life of the urchin girl who stole his heart before the war, a girl Lord Arundel is hunting down with the rabidity of a wild dog.
A girl he wants alive for reasons Hubert has yet to uncover.
Masterlist (Out of Date, being updated) AO3 (Up to Date)
Hoping to have a finished chapter for SOLS tomorrow! I may have gone a little crazy with the domestic bits, but I want some fluff before Elyra and Alucard have to deal with the whole mess in Faery. đđđ
itâs not weird to find fanfiction from 2021, or 2017, or 2014 that youâve never read and actually taking your time to read it.
itâs not weird to love it and comment and leave kudos because the author will probably still see it someday and it will make them happy.
itâs not weird to like said authorâs work so much that you want to go look for other fics from them.
itâs not weird to go through the authors profile and look for other fics from the ships you like (or maybe some that youâll give a chance because you liked the author) and maybe bookmark them for later.
itâs not weird to read these other fics and like them too and comment on them because you actually like them and you want to let the author know.
itâs not weird to read fanfiction from 5, or 8, or 10 years ago and actually enjoy and engage with it because itâs perfectly normal to relate to something thatâs less than a decade old!
letâs stop treating fanfiction like theyâre instagram posts that stop being interesting in 24 hours! fanfiction is NOT social media, fanfiction is art!!! and art doesnât get old in one day, one year, or even a decade!
read fanfiction! write fanfiction! comment on fanfiction! letâs not let fanculture die people!!!!!
Not only is it not weird, it is ACTIVELY ENCOURAGED. Authors LOVE IT when people do this!!! Its not "weird" and its not "neutral" -- its a fucking DELIGHT. Feel very absolutely free to read though an author's entire back catalogue, leaving kudos and/or comments along the way; we absolutely freaking love when someone does this. There is nothing more joyful than getting a comment notification for an old fic. It will make our day, I promise.
There needs to be a special word for the warm, gratifying feeling that you get when you watch someone kudos everything you've ever written in a specific fandom in backwards order over 3 days. and that word needs a modifier to express the inexpressible joy when they start leaving comments on every story no matter how old it is.
Iâve seen your last post and Iâm sending you some questions about SOLS and the cast (there is a lot so bear with me đ€§):
â So first, do you have any headcanons about Alucard's childhood or his relationship with his parents ? I always thought it was a shame that the show didn't give us more flashbacks of his childhood or his life prior to the big tragedy.
â Will Valion ever tell a "this is how I met your mother" story to Elyra?
â Have you ever thought about introducing another non-faerie OC who could be a forgemaster or a speaker?
â Will Elyra reveal her true nature to the kids đ«Ł ?
â What happened to the corpses of the two horrible people we shall not name ?
â At what point did Adrian and Rose realize they were in love with each other ? Do you have a ship name for them ?
â Since Trevor doesn't have any monsters to chase (and I don't think he teaches the kids anything), what does he do in his free time ?
â How far along is Sypha in her pregnancy ?
â Does Valion have any cousins, aunts, or uncles, any relatives still around besides granny and gramps ?
â Does Riona have a consort ? What is the name of her dynasty ? Do the seelie have a form of constitutional monarchy, and what about the unseelie ?
â Will Lisa and Dracula make an appearance đ«Ł?
Hi! Today has been insane, so I'm so glad to think about all my little guys instead of when I'm going to get power back lol. I went a liiiiiittle insane with this, so it's under the cut. Thank you so much for your questions, feel free to send more, this was so fun!
~~~I feel like he must have had a pretty good childhood considering how he talks about his parents in the show, though I think he wasn't home with them for super long? He has that one off-hand line about growing up 'very fast' in the show, and then there's the whole underground, steam-powered lair in Gresit. I feel like he must have moved out at least a few years before the start of the show to be able to make all of that. Plus, he'd have to have spent a lot of time with his dad to learn how to make the mechanism properly and make his own place.
Like all the material evidence we see in the show of his childhood shows that his parents loved him, like the fact that they made all his toys and painted constellations on his ceiling, and also the fact that they kept his room the same after he'd grown up? It feels very much like they were trying to preserve a part of him in the castle, like a little bit of his childhood. It was probably very disconcerting to have a child grow so quickly and mature and want to leave and start his life, so I kinda see that almost as a sort of mourning? It feels very 'child who died' to me, especially because he most likely was a teenager in the castle too, and that room didn't look like a teen boy had lived in it, at least to me.
~~~I think that unless Elyra asks, he probably won't. He's not good at identifying and telling her the things he probably should about her mom, it's more that he shares things as he thinks of them, or when it relates to what their doing. It's gotten easier for him to talk about Orlaith to Elyra, but I think he's so used to not talking about her to anyone that he just doesn't think about it.
~~~I haven't specifically yet, but would love to as the plot allows! I'd looooove to get more Speakers in the mix and I think it would be very interesting to have Adrian and Elyra run into a forgemaster, because I feel like they might have veryyy different feeling about them. Like Adrian being raised by Dracula for sure knows about them and probably has more ambivalence about them as a general rule unless they're specifically doing something horrible (ie Hector reanimating animals) whereas Elyra's only exposure has been to the roving Night Creatures that they can make and I'm sure if she learned they were made with human souls she'd be about ready to go give them a nice warm dirt nap.
~~~Honestly, I don't think she truly will? I think she'll come up with something of a half-truth to protect them from Faery as much as she can. I don't think that will work with all the kids, I think several of them will figure it out, given everything they have access to in the library, but I don't know that they'd bring it up with her? Like, I could see Andrei and Mihai figuring it out, and Andrei would tell Maria, but I can't see them making a big thing of it? Like they would know there was a reason, especially after seeing her return from visiting her father and being so hurt. I'm on the fence whether Petru would figure it out. I think it would have to be much later in life for him, but I don't think he'd care, especially at that point? Left to their own devices, I don't think Florin, Tereza, Adelina would figure it out because they're not big into the library or research, which is also good, because they would be the ones to make a big thing about it and try and get her to take them to Faery.
~~~I assumed they got torched by the crazy fire-breathing monsters in the siege? Or trampled and thrown in a mass grave after with the other people who died and couldn't be identified? Personally I like the idea of them just getting incinerated.
~~~Adrian realized that he was in love with Rose after Valion pulled her into the Dream Realm and then made it so she could safely sleep and he thought she was going to die. It fully hit him that morning after staying up all night in case every breath was her last that it was actually love (even though he'd been lying to himself before then that she was just his friend). Elyra knew for *sure* when Vranos took her, and getting back to Adrian was her light at the end of the tunnel. I think she was more aware of her feelings beforehand, though she pushed them down more consciously because she never saw them being returned.
I didn't have a ship name for them. I'm not super good at coming up with them lol
~~~Currently Trevor is trying to get his voice back somehow, lmao. But I think he's working on helping with the construction of the village and the reconstruction of some of the Belmont manor. He's still recovering from his brush with death, so Sypha is making him take it easy, but I'm sure he's also itching to hunt down some monsters, though that'll for sure have to wait until after the baby is born, because there's noooo way he's taking any chance of missing that. I also see him informally passing on some of his monster hunting knowledge to people who want it? Like no way he's holding formal classes, but if someone wants to learn how to use a whip or throw some daggers, he's all about it.
Unless it's one of Adrian and Rose's kids, then he has to do anything else. (Florin wants to use a whip soooo bad, but to be fair, he'd probably put his own eye out if he tried to use one.)
~~~5ish months? I'm trying not to rush through it (but I want Baby Belmont to be born so bad!!! I already have bits of them written as a toddler and I *love* them)
~~~Riona had a consort, who has since died. He was good at being a voice of reason and she wasn't as fearful and reactionary before. He died in a freak accident, along with their daughter, and that really lead her to be more irrational about things (it was 100% an actual accident, but she convinced herself that it had to have been a plot by the Undercourt or someone in her Court looking to unseat her, that someone had taken him from her.
Her dynasty is the Aurelianes, and they've been in power for less time than the Blackthornes. The Seelie Court has quite a bit of turnover in rulers compared to the Unseelie Court, which also adds to Riona's paranoia. She has two living siblings (Aoife, RĂłisĂn's mom, and Iomhar, her brother who has no children) and had three children: Fionn, who is her eldest and heir, Eimear, and Caoimhe, who died with their father. Fionn has only recently married (for a faery) has a daughter, Siobhan.
I'd say that Seelie and Unseelie are both semi-constitutional monarchies. There are limits and rules which the ruler could be called to step down, but it's super rare that it's enacted in Seelie and never happens in Unseelie. Basically it takes a coup to shove someone out. There's clever ways for the ruler to get around them, but it's not good for them to look like they're breaking the rules (faeries love rules).
~~~I'm so torn on this, because I want them to, but also, it would go so bad??? Like, it would be soooo devastating to Adrian that his parents had lived and they were out doing whatever and never thought to tell him and relieve him of the guilt he holds over not saving them? And I also think that since meeting Rose and starting a family, that he'd be even more angry about it, and angry with his father? Because he could never imagine hurting his child or abandoning them when they needed him.
And it would be sooooooo bad if Rose was there, because they hurt Adrian. Like, I feel like Adrian would let his mom off the hook, but Rose for sure would not, for making him feel as if he were secondary in her life and not as important as her husband, not to mention for not seeking him out after she came back to life, especially after all Dracula had put him through. She'd want to send Drac straight back to Hell, for hurting Adrian and doubly for *hurting his child*. She would have Things To Say about what sort of parents she thought they were. I don't know that she would be able to keep her temper, tbh. She'd try for Adrian's sake, but she'd be so absolutely infuriated by Drac she might have to just go to Faery so she didn't deck him.
I'm still deciding if they'll make their way into the story. I feel like it could super derail the story if I didn't do it right, and also, if they showed up anywhere near the castle, Trevor and Sypha are also for sure going to want to send Drac a one-way ticket back to Hell.
Trying to make the most out of the power outage from the crazy storm last night and get some writing done at a cafe with power (and ac!). Hopefully will be able to finish the next chapter of SOLS or at least almost finish it.
Iâm also still working on my âMeet the Parentsâ AU, which Iâve made a lot more progress with, but am still struggling with tbh. Figuring out how Dracula would handle everything is actually turning out to be so hard for me for some reason.
Feel free to send me headcannons or questions or just chat! Iâd love the company while I wait for powerđ
She hadn't meant to stumble upon Alucard's castle, nor infringe on his markedly thin hospitality. Still, she had little choice once he decided to take her in, set on nursing her back to health even though he seemed to find the very sight of her contemptible. Are the castle walls enough to keep her past at bay? Or will she become yet another ghost wandering the crumbling halls?
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Compromise
She wasnât surprised to find Adrian in the library. They both spent most of their time there, even if it was far less than before the villagers had arrived.
He sat next to Andrei, the pair of them pouring over a book. It took her a moment to realize they were talking about celestial navigation, what with all the scribbling and talk of angles and formulas. She had a hard time parsing it, but Andrei was hanging on his every word, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
He was such a serious boy, but he loved learning, was always enthralled by any talk of far-off places.
She should have been planning a trip, introducing the children to the sort of culture they lacked out in the Wallachian wilderness, should have been sitting down and planning curriculum with Sypha, planning for when sheâd step in when she had the baby, should have been planning her weddingâ
She should have been doing nearly anything but worrying about what nightmare her father was keeping from her.
Of course, he could never make things easy.
Sheâd just decided to sneak away, rather than interrupt Andreiâs lesson, when Adrian turned.
âRose?â he asked, immediately rising from his chair to cross to her. âIs everything alright?â
Andrei turned in his seat, surveying her with sad, grey eyes, his brow pinched.
âYesâyes. I didnât realize you were giving a lesson, I donât want to interrupt.â
âNonsense,â he said, carefully taking hold of her hands and examining them, gently tracing over scars, noting how they were healing.
âTheyâre fine, Adrian. Dad checked them.â
âThat doesnât mean that I shouldnât,â he said, tone deceptively light, though it didnât hide the tension in his jaw.
âJust finish your lesson,â she said softly, nodding towards Andrei and the books piled on the table in front of him.
âItâs okay,â Andrei said, face still so terribly pinched. âWe were already done, I just stayed after to ask some questions. Canâcan I borrow this book to keep reading?â
âOf course,â Adrian said, turning back to him. âYou can borrow anything, so long as you take care of it.â
âI will, I promise,â he said quickly, clutching the book to his chest like a precious treasure. She couldnât help but smile at the sight.
âI know you will. Youâre not the one I worry about,â he said with a sigh. âI never thought Iâd have to specify not to eat jam over a book. Nor that itâs meant to be spread on something, not simply eaten with a spoon.â
Andrei huffed a laugh, though he quickly looked down at his shoes to try and hide it. Adrian crossed to the table and pulled another book from one of the stacks and handed it to him.
âThis might help with some of the basics, if the other gets confusing. Itâs a very good book, but it does meander a bit.â
âOkay. Thank you!â he said, flashing a smile at Adrian before turning towards the door. He stopped, though, when he reached her.
âI hope youâre feeling better.â
âIâm starting to. Thank you,â she said, offing him was she hoped was a reassuring smile. Andrei opened his mouth and shut it, pausing before he spoke again.
âDonâtâdonât tell Mrs. Belmont, but I miss your lessons. Hers are fine!â he said quickly, clearly worried about being offensive. âI just really like the books you picked on ancient history.â
âI should be able to go back to them soon,â she said, a bit of shame heating her ears. âYou could always ask, though if you want me to pick more books.â
âI didnât want to bother you.â
âYouâre not a bother,â she said, furrowing her brow. He just glanced between the pair of them.
âIâI should go make sure Adelina isnât driving Maria up the wall. Thank you, again,â he said, and scurried out.
Elyra sighed, staring after him for a moment before turning back to Adrian.
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to drive him off.â
âItâs fine, dove, we were nearly done.â
She made a face. She wouldnât doubt he would have gone on another hour or two, until he went to make dinner. She decided to let it go, though.
âWho spilled jam in a book?â she asked instead. He raised a brow.
âIâll give you a guess.â
âAdelina?â
âAll over the Young Reader Primer. At least it wasnât a book I cared about, though Iâve given them all a lecture about how to properly treat them. And Iâve moved the jam out of reach of little hands.â
âWas she really just eating it with a spoon?â
âI think she might be the only person with a bigger sweet tooth than you. She got through half the jar before I caught her.â
She huffed a laugh, imagining the sort of mess he must have walked in on. He drew her attention back, though, by taking hold of her hands again, his touch as delicate as if he were handling fine porcelain.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked, searching her face. âIs your tonic wearing off? Itâs nearly time for anotherââ
âNo, IâmâIâm only a bit sore. I justâValion was acting strange and then he left really quickly andâsomethingâs wrong, but he wonât tell me. He wanted me to leave it alone, but I have a terrible feeling about it. I just want to figure out whatâs going on.â
Adrianâs lips thinned as he listened, expression pinched.
âI justâmaybe if I go corner him at the house heâll tell me. I justâI donât know. I could just be being silly.â
âI doubt that,â he said. âAreâare you sure you want to go back to the house afterââ
He broke off, making a face. She felt herself deflate a bit.
âNo,â she said honestly. âBut thatâs where heâd be. Or, at least thatâs the only place I know heâd be.â
Adrian sighed. âJust let me gather a few things, then Iâll be ready to go.â
âYou donât have toââ she began, though she didnât quite mean it. He rolled his eyes.
âDonât be ridiculous, dove,â he said, holding out his arm for her to take. He lead her back to their chambers, where he first crossed to the dresser to retrieve one of the half-dozen or so tinctures for pain heâd left there, removing the cork before handing it to her.
She didnât ague, merely took it, glad for the relief it provided, even if it left her feeling a bit in a fog. Without it, the ache in her hands made her nauseous.
Adrian retrieved a proper jacket from the wardrobe before buckling on his belt that held his longsword and pulling it on overtop. She eyed the sword, wishing she could tell him that he was being ridiculous.
He caught her, staring at her as if he could read her thoughts.
âRoseââ
âItâll be fine. Justâletâs just get it over with,â she said, pulling open a gate before she could think better of it. She was tired of Valion lying to her, tired of him keeping things from her, even if he thought it kept her saferâclearly, things were much worse than she knew, if the Queen of Seelie wanted her dead so badly.
Alucard did his best not to glare at the stone manor, to push down the roiling anger in his gut.
The last thing Rose needed was more things to worry about. If only Valion had ever learned to compose himself, but he was hardly better than a child throwing a fitâhe had to make it everyone elseâs problem.
She should be home restingâhe knew her hands ached, especially at the end of the day, especially since sheâd just had the stitches removed, not to mention the rest of her wounds. But instead she was going to figure out the reason of Valionâs latest tantrum.
Still, he kept a hand reassuringly on Rosalindâs back as he looked for anything out of the ordinary, any sign of movement, his other hand on the hilt of his blade.
He watched her make a series of complicated gestures in the air, watched her wince as she didâsheâd deny it, if he mentioned it, though. At least until she talked to her father and forced some truth from his lips.
She was so damn stubborn. He hated how she suffered for it.
He stepped forward to open the door for her, to save her the unnecessary movement. He followed her inside, glancing around the entrancewayâit was different than the first time heâd been.
The paintings on the walls were the same, as was the black trim work, but it looked lived in, in a way it hadnât before. There was a book perched on the narrow table by the door, amidst all the strange knickknacks, boots left by the door, cloaks left on the coatrack, rather than put away in the hall closet.
It looked a bit more like a home, and less of a mausoleum.
Had Valion relaxed his protections about the place too, his wards? Was that how someone was able to nearly murder Rose in her bed?
âDad!â she called, loud enough that he couldnât pretend to not hear her, even in his studio. Alucard froze, though, as he heard movement upstairs, heard two heartbeats.
âRose,â he said, voice hardly more than a whisper as he tugged her back from the stairs, stepping in front of her. âSomethingâs wrong, someone else is here.â
âWhat?â she asked, face going white.
âWe should go,â he hissed, eyes sweeping around them, looking for some hint of who might be upstairs. She didnât listen, though, only tried to step towards the stairs again, eyes shining.
âDAD!â she yelled again, frantic, this time. The air felt electric around them, heavy with magic. He unsheathed his blade as he heard footsteps approaching, mind whirring with different scenarios.
He froze, though, at the sight of a familiar figure.
âGranddad?â Rosalind asked, voice cracking as she spotting Colm at the top of the stairs.
âDawnâs LightâElyra, darling! Oh! How are you? Iâve been so worried,â he said, hurrying down the stairs with hardly a glance at the sword in his hand.
He looked much the same as he had at Solstice, though he wore a rather rumpled brown doublet and his hair looked as though heâd been running his hands through it all day.
And he looked frightened.
âWhatâwhat are you doing here? Whereâs Dad? Whyâ?â she broke off, just shaking her head as she tried to make sense of it.
âDid your father notâwell, I suppose that would be wise, all things considered,â he said, almost to himself before forcing a smile. âYour father is having us stay here, while he sorts things out with Seelie.â
âWhatâs going on?â she asked, though she looked up at movement, again, on the landing. She froze at the sight of RĂłisĂn standing there in a dress far too formal for puttering around the house, shoulders curling in as if she wanted to disappear.
He glanced between the two, trying to make sense of the reaction, noted Colm look between the two as well, expression turning tight.
âOh, this is very silly, we canât have you just standing in the foyer! Come sit downâcome, come! Adrian, itâs very lovely to see you again,â he said almost too cheerily as he ushered them towards the parlor. Alucard let out a breath, sheathing his sword.
âHow are your hands, Starshine? Your father was worried,â Colm asked as he lead her to one of the couches sitting next to her as his eyes searched over her, anxiety plain behind them. Alucard sat on her other side, reaching automatically to place a hand on her back in an effort to soothe her.
âThey, umâthey ache. Dad says theyâre healing alright though,â she said, sounding so very unsure.
âYou poor dear. Iâm so sorry. IâIâm sure your father has something for the pain around here that I could findââ
âI just took one. Adrian made sure I did.â
âThank you,â Colm said, turning his familiar green gaze on him for a moment before he focused back on his granddaughter. âIâve been so very worried about you, my dear.â
âI didnât meanââ
âDonât be ridiculous. How could we not worry? May I?â he asked, holding out his hands for hers. It struck him as odd, after all heâd seen of Valionâs parentsâtheyâd never asked for her permission for a thing, didnât care how she felt.
At least Colm seemed as kind as he remembered, from their brief time meeting at Solstice.
Rose deserved one family member that was just kind in Faery.
Rose placed her hands in his, after a moment, though she looked away as he examined them. He made a face as his thumbs ghosted over the deeper wounds, touch so incredibly gentle.
âOh dearâno wonder youâre in so much pain. Iâm so sorry, my darling girl. Iâm so sorry we couldnât stop it.â
Rose opened her mouth, clearly searching for words, only to shut it again, dropping her gaze to her lap.
âWe should have your nana look at themâsheâs much more skilled in healing than I. Perhaps thereâs something more to be done,â he said and Rose stiffened, though he wasnât sure if it was because of his words or the door opening again.
RĂłisĂn hesitantly pushed her way in, carrying a tea tray. Alucard couldnât help but note the way Rose swallowed hard before dropping her gaze once more to her lap.
âIâI thought you might like some tea. IâI wasnât quite sure what you prefer so IâI just brought everything,â RĂłisĂn said, almost hesitantly. She stood in the door another moment before crossing to set the tray down on the coffee table. He could see now that it piled high with a dozen tins of tea as well as milk, sugar, honey and what looked like lemons, though he wasnât sure what the faery equivalent was.
âThank you,â Rose said without looking up, voice cracking slightly.
He traced his hand up and down her spine, hoping to soothe her, even as he looked between Colm and RĂłisĂn. She hadnât told him what had happened, with them, not more than the fact that theyâd tried to warn them of the attack. Still, it had been clear there was something more, something that had happened that had left Valion furious and left her withering at their mere mention, though heâd guess it was more to do her grandmother than her grandfather, based on her reactions.
RĂłisĂn stood there for a long moment before crossing to sit on the couch opposite, her posture stiff. Colm stared at her for a moment before he took a deep breath.
âI got your letter,â he said, smile only looking slightly strained. âYou know I meant you to keep the books, dear.â
âI, I justâI thought youâd want them back.â
âI should have been more specific. Though I did very much enjoy your thoughts on them.â
âI wasnâtâI wasnât sure when Iâd be able to see you next.â
âIt was a lovely surprise.â
âWhatâwhat books did you lend her?â RĂłisĂn asked quietly.
âEarly Material History of the Light Court, Bettaraâs Abridged History of the Golden Age, and something else, what was it?â he said, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember.
âA Record of Trade Along the Emerald Coast in the Forty-Third Century,â Elyra said, voice so terribly small.
âYes! That was the one,â Colm said, nodding to himself. RĂłisĂn made a face.
âOf all the books, you pick the driest, dullest onesââ
âTheyâre not dull,â Colm shot back, making a face. RĂłisĂn shook her head.
âYou could have given her Saratii, or Rishka, or Dawn forbid, something from this century.â
âTheyâre good resources. Thoughâperhaps I should have included some poetry,â he said, almost absently as he leaned over to make a cup of tea. It seemed muscle memory as he added sugar and one of the fruit slices before passing it to RĂłisĂn and reaching for another cup, which he added only the smallest splash of cream to.
Alucard caught Rosalindâs eye as they were momentarily distracted, at least a bit, furrowing his brows in question. She pursed her lips, jaw tight.
He was of half a mind to come up with an excuse to pull her aside and ask what was going on, what had happened, but RĂłisĂn spoke again before he thought of anything believable enough.
âHow are you healing. Has Valâhas your father been attending to you? Hands can be complicated if not monitored correctly,â she said, sounding overly formal and stiff, though a âyour fatherâ had been twisted by anger, even if it seemed sheâd tried to suppress it.
âHeâhe has. And Adrian checks on them about four times a day,â she said, leaning into his side, slightly. RĂłisĂnâs eyes flicked to him, almost as if she were noticing him for the first time.
âThatâthatâs good,â she said, though her expression remained pinched. âI believe we met briefly at the Solstice ball.â
âYes,â he said, unsure of what else to say. Heâd hardly exchanged a handful of pleasantries with her, though Colm had been quick to draw him into conversation about his studies.
âIt seemsâit seems you take after your grandfather,â she said, turning back to Rosalind. âYourâyour mother was never one for academics. Colmâyour grandfather had to practically tie her down to the chair at your age to get her to complete her lessons.â
âIt wasnât that bad,â Colm said with a huff of laughter, though it didnât disguise the sadness behind his eyes. âShe just hated sitting still for long enough to get through them. If I read to her to her in the garden while she puttered about she didnât mind them.â
Rosalind seemed to deflate a bit at the mention of her mother. He reached out, taking her hand automatically, though he didnât squeeze it in reassurance as he usually would have, just held it, as if it were made of glass. He saw RĂłisĂn note it, but she didnât say anything.
The silence lingered for an uncomfortably long moment, before Rosalind finally broke it.
âWell, um, we shouldâwe were just looking for D-Dad, but um, heâs not here, so we should justâwe donât want to interrupt your day,â she stammered, staring once more at her skirt. He stood with her, more than happy to leave, especially when she was so clearly uncomfortable, and he couldnât try to fix it, because he didnât know why.
âElyraââ Colm said, standing up very fast. âYouâre notâweâd love you to stay longer. Ifâif you can. I understand, though, if you canât.â
Despite his words, he very much looked as though heâd be devastated if she left. He watched Rosalindâs resolve break as she looked at him him, shoulders slumping.
âIâI suppose we can stay a little longer,â she said, and he beamed, though she just seemed to curl inward even more.
âDove, could youâcould you show me where that book was. I just donât want to forget it again, like last time,â Alucard said, not caring that it was a barely veiled excuse. She nodded, looking far too relieved and rose, taking a step towards the door before she turned back to her grandparents.
âWeâweâll be back in a moment,â she said.
âOhâof course, dear,â Colm said quickly. RĂłisĂn just nodded, face pinched. Alucard ushered her out, not caring, frankly, if her grandparents thought it rude.
âWhatâs going on?â Adrian asked, the moment he closed the study door behind them. Elyra stared at the floor, wishing she could seep into it.
âItâsâitâs nothing.â
âItâs clearly not.â
âItâs justâIâm surprised theyâre here. DadâDad was not very happy with them, after everything, and Iâm quite sure RĂłisĂn loathes him, so Iâm not sure why sheâd ever even agree,â she said, still staring at the edge of the rug under Valionâs desk, the intricate pattern of it.
It was true, even if it wasnât all of itâof course it wasnât all of it, but she didnât know how to say any of the rest of it, could only feel its weight on her chest.
She made the mistake of glancing up, of not only seeing Adrianâs pinched face of worry, but the portrait of her mom over the mantlepiece, the portrait Valion had painted of the woman he loved more than anyone.
She looked like RĂłisĂn.
Perhaps her face was a little rounder in the portrait, her features softer, but there was no denying the resemblance, even if RĂłisĂnâs eyes were lavender and sharper than Orlaithâs had been.
At least how Valion always painted her.
âItâs more than that, Rose. Itâs so clear youâre uncomfortable,â Adrian said gently. She pressed her lips together, making a face.
âI justââ she began, looking for the right words. âItâs just hard. TheyâColm only just told RĂłisĂn what happened to my mom. I justââ
She broke off, rather than telling him how she just felt like she was rubbing salt in the wound, that it felt cruel to be around them after their daughter had died giving birth to her.
How the painful politeness was almost worse than the screaming had beenâthe screaming had at least felt honest.
You stole my daughter from me.
She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself. Adrian sighed and pulled her into a hug.
âYou know we donât have to stay. I donât care about being polite,â he said, voice so gentle and soft. She shook her head.
âWeâweâll just stay for an hour. I donât want to upset Colm,â she replied.
Didnât want to upset the one grandparent she had that actually liked her, despite having every reason to not. The one grandparent who ever made her feel as though he saw her and not just the thing she was.
An hour of uncomfortable conversation was fine, if it made him happy.
âOkay,â Adrian said, though he still looked unsure. âThough we can leave whenever you like.â
She nodded, taking a deep breath as she just stared at Valionâs desk, trying to settle herself. She couldnât help but note the jar perched on the side of it, a jar she was quiet sure she recognized from their pantry.
She was nearly sure that was the jar Trevor had been harping on her about, the one Valion had locked his voice in.
She turned to the door without so much as pointing it out to Adrian. Sheâd been rather enjoying the silence at home, she wasnât about to ruin a good thing.
At least for a few more weeks.
âJustâjust let me talk to her,â Colm said, eyes flicking to the door through which Elyra and Adrian had slipped through. âIâll just clear the airââ
âShe canât even bear look at me. IâIâll just find something to do upstairs and stay out of the way. You should enjoy the time you have with her,â RĂłisĂn said, unable to look at him.
âWe just need to work through it, RĂłis. Itâs...unfortunate and uncomfortable, but it wonât get better if you just hide away.â
âI donât know. I justâI donât want to make it harder on her.â
âLet me talk to her. Justâtalk to Adrian so I can pull her aside. Heâs a wonderful boy, I really enjoyed speaking with him at Solstice. And you know I usually donât enjoy speaking to anyone at Solstice.â
She at least attempted a smile at that, though it was hardly convincing.
âOkay. But if notâI donât mind. Itâsâitâs her house, I donât want her to feel uncomfortable in it. More uncomfortable.â
Colm didnât believe for a second RĂłisĂn would be fine hiding away upstairs, but he didnât press. There was no pointâheâd figure out a way to work through the situation, he had to. Besides, at itâs core it was a misunderstandingâthough that did little to soothe the wounds it had created.
Elyra and Adrian returned, pausing in the doorway before they returned to their place on the couch. Elyra stared at the hem of her dress, jaw tight. Adrian, however, looked between the pair of them, gaze sharp. He hadnât let go of her waist since theyâd stepped out, his hold unmistakably protective. Still, he kept his face neutral, if not overly pleasant.
Colm couldnât exactly blame him for that.
RĂłisĂn cleared her throat, rolling her shoulders back slightly as she put on her practiced, Court smile and turned to Adrian.
âI thoughtâI thought I might ask you about your home. I have always found the Mortal Realm rather fascinating, thoughâthough I admit I have done little traveling there. Last I was there, they were constructing a rather lovely temple, the whole thing made of carved marble. I was rather impressed they were able to construct such a thing with no magic, though I have seen Mortals do marvelous things with logs and sleds. Remember that lovely stone circle we sawâwas is Prydein? What did they call it?â
âA henge. Fantastic thing, really,â Colm replied almost automatically.
âYes, yesâhenge. Do they have those by you?â she asked Adrian.
âA henge?â he asked, furrowing his brow.
âYes. Orâwhat did they call it, it had all these fabulous statues and it was for their warrior goddess, Athe-something.â
âThe Parthenon?â Adrian asked eyes going wide.
âWell, I donât know. They just called it âthe Templeâ while we were there.â
âMight I speak with you, dear? Just the two of us?â Colm said quietly to Elyra. She searched his face for a moment before she nodded.
âAdrian,â she said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder, almost as if she needed to reassure herself. âIâIâm just going to orient Grandad to the library. Dad has a bit of an eclectic organization system, so I thought Iâd show him where everything is.â
Adrian searched her face for a moment before he nodded. âSounds wonderful.â
She gave him a smile before crossing to the door. He followed her up the stairs to the library, noting the way she wrapped her arms around herself.
He took a deep breath, trying to put together the right words.
âIâm so sorry, for how everything happened last we saw. Weâre both very sorry. Yourâyour nana has a bit of a temper and Iâd only just told her...everything. She shouldnât have said any of that in front of you, no matter how furious she is with your father. I justâno one blames you, for what happened to your mother. RĂłisĂnâNana, never blamed you.â
Elyra hung her head, staring at the hem of her dress.
âItâs okay if she does,â she said, voice so very small. He felt tears pricking his eyes, his throat too tight.
âElyra, sweetheart, itâs not your fault. Dawnâs LightâOrlaith would hateââ he broke off as his voice cracked. He couldnât imagine how wretched it would make her feel to know that her daughter blamed herself for being born, that she thought herself a mistake.
It made his heart ache so much it threatened to steal his breath.
âIâm sorry,â he said, stepping forward to pull her into a hug as he heard her sniffle, unable to stand by when she so clearly needed comfort. âIâm so sorry. Itâs a horrible, complicated mess, and we havenât done very well navigating it. Iââ
He broke off, mind whirring as he tried to find a way to convince her that she wasnât a mistake, that she had been so wanted and so loved.
He had no doubt Orlaith had loved her fiercely, from the moment she knew she was pregnant.
âIâm sorry, Iâm not trying to be difficult,â she said and he just held her tighter.
âYouâre not, youâre not being difficult at all,â he replied, automatically smoothing back her hair from her face. He paused when he realized why it was automatic, because heâd done it a thousand times with Orlaith, when she was upset, that Elyra ducked her head in the same way in response, as if she wanted to hide her tears from him.
He couldnât help the tear that slipped down his cheek at that.
âItâs so hard, when you lose someone you love. Grief is miserable and ugly and it rarely brings out the best in anyone. Thatâs why your father sent you away, so you wouldnât have to suffer his grief, so you didnât have to grow up in its shadow. IâI wish he hadnât sent you to the Mortal Realm, I wish we hadnât missed out on so much of your life, that weâd gotten to see you grow, butâI donât know, if it would have been best. Youâd have grown up with family, grown up loved and connected to Faery, butâyouâd have grown up in the shadow of our grief, then. RĂłisĂnâsheâs not good with it, has never been good with it. Itâs easier to be angry, than to acknowledge the pain, the helplessness. Iâm not making excuses, for how she behaved in front of you, after youâd alreadyâyouâd alreadyââ
He broke off, trying to compose himself as he thought of how very close heâd come to losing her, to losing his only granddaughter.
âI love you, so very much,â he said, voice breaking. âYou are such a wonderful girl and I hate that you feel this way. I want to fix it, I just donât know how.â
She stared at him for a long moment, a fresh tear dipping down her cheek.
âI just want to stop making everyone so sad,â she cried. âI just feel like a constant reminder that sheâs gone and I justâshe died, giving birth to me, I killed her, and I donât even know her. You all miss her so much and I didnât know to miss her and I grew up thinking other people my parents and I donâtâI donât even know if theyâd have wanted me, if theyâd known what I was, that I wasnât theirs.â
âElyraââ he said, voice cracking, but she just plowed ahead, as if she couldnât stop herself.
âAnd I donât want you to be hate Dad, because I know he loved her so much and heâs been all alone since she died and heâs tryingâI know heâs trying. He just doesnât always know what heâs doing because his whole family is horrible and mean and I thinkâI think heâd be just like them, if he hadnât met M-Mom. And I know that doesnât make any of it better, but heâs my dad, and I love him, and heâs the only parent I have left. I donât want you to fight and I know itâs selfish.â
She was sobbing by the end of it, near-hysterical as she stepped away, burying her face in her hands.
Colmâs eyes flicked towards the entrance to the library as he heard the slight creak of the floorboards, saw RĂłisĂn standing in the doorway, Adrian just behind her. RĂłisĂn just stood and stared, as if frozen, for a long moment, lower lip trembling.
âExcuse me,â Adrian said, slipping past and crossing to Elyra without looking at either of them.
âItâs okay, Rose, darling. Itâs okay,â he said, wrapping her in a hug. She just pressed her face to his chest as she sobbed, so clearly trusted him utterly.
âItâs not. Itâs awful, itâs all awful and I canât fix any of it.â
âItâs not for you to fix,â he said softly.
âYes it is, itâs my fault,â she cried, though her words were almost unintelligible. âItâs all my fault.â
Adrian turned to looked at the pair of them without letting go of her.
âCould we have the room, please?â he asked, ever so politely, though there was a steel to his words.
âYesâyes, of course,â RĂłisĂn said reaching out to grab his sleeve and tug him from the room.
âItâs not your fault,â Alucard said, throat tight as Rosalind sobbed into his chest.
âI ruined their lives, just by being born. I ruined Valionâsââ
âNo you didnât.â
âTheyâd all be happy, if my mother was still alive, and Faery wouldnât be changingââ
âIâd be miserable, if you werenât born. Iâd have been left all alone in that castle, never knowing what it was like to truly be loved, never knowing my favorite person. More of the villagers would have died, if it wasnât for you, the children would have been left adrift. IâmâIâm so happy because youâre here and I hate that you feel like any of this is your fault. I hate seeing you so sad,â he said, voice cracking by the end.
âIâm sorryââ
âI donât want you to be sorry. I justâyouâre such a wonderful person, and you make the world better, just by being in it. You make Faery betterâwho the hell wants an endless night without the moon or stars? Who the hell wants everything to stay the same, forever? Youâve done them a favor, as far as Iâm concerned.â
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, face ruddy and tear-stained.
âR-RĂłisĂnâshe kept yelling at D-Dad, telling him h-heâd stolen her d-daughter, but she wouldnât have diedââ
Alucard made a face, the whole dreadful, uncomfortable afternoon suddenly making sense.
âDoveââ
âIâm not supposed to exist. Thatâs why, thatâs w-whyââ
âAccording to who? Some idiot faeries a million years ago? That awful Seelie queen? What do they know? Why should they have any say in it?â
âI donâtâI donât know,â she said, face so horribly crumpled, though it felt like progress.
âYour parents wanted you, Rose. It was so clear in every room of your house, how much they loved you. Why wouldnât they love you, just because you were different? You were still theirs.â
âBut IÂ wasnâtââ
âYou were in all the ways that counted. Youâd never say that the children are lesser, because theyâre not biologically ours. You donât love them less.â
She sniffled, dropping her gaze. He plowed ahead.
âItâs not your fault, what happened to your mom. Itâs nothing you chose to do, nothing you had any control over. Itâs just a terrible thing that happened. And RĂłisĂn can be as mad as she wants, but it doesnât make it your fault. Your parents wanted you, they were trying to keep you safe from all this Faery nonsense. I meanâconsidering everything thatâs happened, it makes sense that theyâd want to make sure no one knew you were both Seelie and Unseelie.â
âThen why does it feel liked it?â she asked, voice breaking.
âI donât know,â he said softly. âBut itâs not. None of this is your fault.â
She trembled for a moment before she stepped forward again, wrapping him in a hug. He just held her, hoping it did something to soothe her.
He hated that she felt this way, hated that everything about Faery only made it worse. He just wished he could make her see herself like he saw her, like Sypha saw her, like the children saw her.
âDo you want to go home?â he asked, softly.
âI donâtâI donât know. We still donât know anythingââ
âAnd we can try again another time. We can come back, it doesnât have to be now.â
âBut what if something awful is happening?â
âThen your father should have told you, instead of making you worry without any sort of recourse, especially with everything else youâre already dealing with. Itâs not fair to you,â Alucard said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
Certainly Valion must have figured out, by now, that withholding things only left Rosalind more vulnerable, that it only made her more anxious, that it wasnât fair, when she was the one being attacked, the one most at risk.
But of course heâd only left her in the dark again, hadnât even told her that there were other people staying in their house, even though it had only just been broken into, even though clearly something big must have happened for him to allow other people to stay there, and stay there without him.
He remembered how very uncomfortable Valion had been with simply the idea of he, Sypha and Trevor setting foot in his house.
âIâI think I want to go home. I donâtâmaybe heâll be back soon. I justâI think I want to be done with today.â
âThen letâs be done with it,â he said, giving her a soft smile. She tried her best to return it, though her eyes were still watery.
âIâll just have to make dinner, and then we can hide away the rest of the night.â
âOh yes,â she said, smiling even as she sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. âI do think the children will riot if the cooking is left to Trevor, again.â
âIt might be interesting to watch,â Alucard said, letting a small smile curve his lips, even if it did nothing to ease the weight of everything bearing down on them.
âIt might be cruel,â Rose replied.
âTo the children or to Trevor? I donât care if itâs cruel to Trevor,â he said, and that made her huff a laugh, at least.
âThe children. Even Sypha said it was bad.â
He sighed over-dramatically, rolling his eyes. âI suppose Iâll cook, then.â
âIs there still sweetbread left over?â she asked and he couldnât help but laugh.
âYouâre just as bad as the kids. You might be worse.â
âI havenât started eating jam out of the jar yet.â
âI donât think weâre far off,â he said, reaching out to cup her cheek gently, even if his words dripped in sarcasm. She really smiled, at that.
âThat doesnât answer my question,â she said, a little of the familiar mischief sparkling behind her eyes. He rolled his own, trying not to smile.
âYes, of course we do, I hid it in the pantry on the glamoured shelf.â
She just stared at him for a moment, expression so terribly soft.
âI love you,â she said. âI hope you know how very much I love you.â
âAlmost as much as I love you,â he said, pressing his lips to her forehead before ushering her out of the library so they could return home.
âI thoughtâwhat on earth did you say to her?â RĂłisĂn asked Colm as she dragged him down the hall by his sleeve and down the stairs.
âIâI was just trying to explain what happened, and how sorry we wereââ
RĂłisĂn made a face as she heard Elyra still crying in the library, heard Adrian trying to soothe her.
Colm was right, he was a very nice boy.
âI donât want her to feel like this, I donât want her to feel like sheâs caught between,â she said, staring very hard at the trim.
âShe is though,â Colm said, voice steady in the way she hated, because it usually meant he was right. She stared at him for a long moment, throat tight.
âItâs not fair,â she said finally. He gave her a sad sort of smile.
âOf course itâs not fair. None of itâs fair. Itâs not fair we lost Orlaith and didnât know, itâs not fair Valion didnât have anyone to help him with Elyra, itâs not fair she grew up in the Mortal World without a clue who she was. Itâs not fair Orlaith didnât get to raise her. We canât change any of thatâyou know we canât. Weâwe can be there now, try to be present now, do whatâs best for her. I know youâre angry with ValionâI think a part of me will always be angry with him. But that doesnât help her. At leastâat least in that respect, weâre all on the same side. Heâs her father, and she loves himâwe have to find a way to make peace with it, for her.â
She sighed, curling her hands into fists before uncurling them.
She hated Valionâhow could she not, after all those years spent hoping? She hated that he hadnât told them, hated that he stayed silent all those years when they were searching, when he knew the sort of pain they felt. She hated that heâd sent their granddaughter away, hated that sheâd been raised a changeling, shorn of Faery, of her magic, of her birthrights. She hated that heâd been too involved in his fatherâs stupid, pointless war in the Heartlands to properly look after his daughter, that he let her be kidnapped and abused, that he let her learn that sort of fear. She hated that heâd let her fight, after her bastard of an uncle called a trial by combat, hated that he hadnât fought for her, even if she knew Veylon had done everything in his power to make sure he couldnât. She hated that Elyra had nearly been killed in his house, hated that with all his prodigious magicks he couldnât keep once small girl safe.
She hated listening to her granddaughter cry, hated that she blamed herself for her parentsâ foolishness. She hated seeing the scars across her skin, seeing how deep sheâd been cut, how much pain she was still in. She hated hearing her wonder if her foster parents would have loved her if theyâd known she was a changeling, hated that she thought herself merely some poor vestige of her mother, something to only illicit grief.
And she hated hearing her defend Valion, hated that she wasnât furious with him for all heâd let her suffer, hated how obvious it was that she did love him.
It would be so much easier if Valion could simply be the villain, if it all wasnât some horrible convoluted tangle, if she couldnât seeâdespite herselfâwhy he might have done some of the miserable things heâd done.
âI still hate him,â she said, voice hardly more than a whisper.
âMore than you want to get to know her? More than you could love her?â Colm asked, though she knew he already knew the answer.
âNo,â she said, jaw tight. âOf course not.â
âThen we have to figure it out, figure out a way not to put her in the middle of that. Itâs not fair to her.â
âI know,â she said, hating the feeling of tears pricking behind her eyes. Colm reached out and took her hand, giving it a little squeeze.
She looked up as she heard footsteps, saw Elyra and Adrian appear at the top of the stairs. Adrianâs posture was stiff, face carefully controlled, but Elyraâs eyes were red, skin blotchy from crying.
No one had ever taught her to mask her emotions, that she needed to. She found herself wondering what sort of people her foster parents had been, that they let her simply feel, never made emotions the antithesis of propriety, of decorum. That sheâd been able to grow up without them being used against her. What an odd thing, in a child of twenty. She couldnât imagine what it would have been like, to not have been raised amidst the games of Court.
It might have been lovely.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself as they descended the stairs.
âWeâve got to get going,â Adrian said, not unkindly, though it left little room for discussion.
âYesâIâm sure youâre both very busy. And you should be resting anyway, dear,â Colm said, doing his best to disguise his disappointment. Sheâd be surprised if the children could see it, but she could in the slight bowing of his shoulders, the wideness of his smile, the way it didnât quite meet his eyes.
She stepped forward, preparing to be rebuffed, though she hoped her granddaughter might offer her more grace than she deserved.
âElyra, mayâmay I speak to you?â RĂłisĂn asked softly.
Elyra hesitated a moment, her eyes flicking to Adrian. She nodded, though, after a moment. She stepped into the kitchen, idly fussing with the fruit in the bowl on the counter, sorting them by color. RĂłisĂn followed her, standing on the opposite side of the counter, trying not to wring her hands.
âIâI am so very sorry,â RĂłisĂn said quietly, voice tight. âIâI never meant to hurt you, but I did and Iâm so, so sorry.â
Elyra just nodded, though she didnât look in the least bit convinced. RĂłisĂn couldnât blame her, though she scrambled for the right words, the right way to try and mend what sheâd tornâfor all her years as a diplomat, she floundered, in the face of sincerity, in the lack of machinations and half-truths. She could play the game, knew the right things to say and when, knew the role she had to play, there.
It was all so much harder, when there were no games, no lies, just hurt and pain and the blood that tied them together.
At least Orlaith would have yelled at her. There was hardly a person in the world her daughter would ever hold her tongue for, least of all her. At least that way they could simply lay it all out, get it out of their systems and move on from it. Colm had always hated it, but he hated any sort of conflict.
Elyra was much too demure, too polite, it was clear. Sheâd sit and endure the suffocating awkwardness, not say a word about it.
Orlaith would have begun telling her off before sheâd so much as fully opened the door.
âIâI know I havenât earned the right to ask any grace of you, but I would very much like to start over. IâI was not fair to you, andâand I was perhaps not the most fair to your father,â she said, taking a deep breath.
Elyra looked up, searching her face as if she was trying to determine if she was lying.
RĂłisĂn forced a smileâas much as she could. It was so hard, when all she wanted to do was cry.
âYour fatherâI have known your father a very, very long time. Butâbut I have known him as the Crown Prince as I have worked ambassador forâfor my aunt,â she said, each word a struggle to string together in the right way, especially with the way her throat tightened and tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. âItâItâs clear there are other...facets of his person that I was not aware of andâand while I am still angry that he didnât tell us about Orlaith, Colmâyour Granddad was right, we cannot change it. I understand what it is to want to protect your child, even if it was at our expense.â
Elyra just stared at her for a long moment before she spoke, eyes haunting, beneath snowy lashes.
Her daughterâs eyes.
And Valionâs face. Not quite the same, but sheâd never once questioned upon meeting her that she was his. Perhaps thatâs why she hadnât noted her eyes, couldnât have ever guessed why they might have looked familiar.
How could there be so few traces of Orlaith left? It felt unfair, after sheâd given so much to bring her into the world, doubly so when Valion hadnât even raised her.
âIâm really sorry, aboutâabout Mom,â Elyra said, voice soft, but not small in the same way it had been, as if something had settled.
âElyraââ she started, face crumpling. She never wanted to hear her blame herself in such away again, never wanted her to feel that way.
How could it have ever been her fault?
âI know Dad loved her, though,â she said, in that same soft voice. âI know he still does. And I know youâI know you and Granddad loved her. I justâheâs different, when heâs not in that awful palace, when heâs here. Heâs justâheâs just my dad. I thinkâI think you might like my dad, if you got to know him. I justâyou all miss her, so much. I donât think Mom would want you all to fight, butâbut I donât know.â
She trailed off, dropping her gaze to the ground.
âShe wouldnât,â RĂłisĂn said quietly. âAnd sheâd have been furious that Iâd dragged you into it.â
Elyra stared at her for a long moment, long enough that she hadnât been sure sheâd say anything else at all.
âIâI never had grandparents growing up. Myâmy Mortal parents were older, when theyâwhen Dad sent me to live with them. I think Iâd like to have grandparents. Real grandparents, not like Dadâs parents.â
âI would very much like to be your Nana,â she said, voice cracking slightly. âI wish I hadnât missed so much time.â
Elyra stared at her for a moment, brows furrowed
âWe can still start now,â she said, a small, unsure smile curving her lips.
âWe can start now,â RĂłisĂn said, returning it. Elyra stared at her for another moment before she carefully stepped forward and gave her a hug. RĂłisĂn froze for a moment in shock before she returned it holding her as tight as she dared.
âIâm glad to meet you,â Elyra said, voice slightly muffled by their embrace. âGranddad says you like Mortal architecture. Adrian and I just saw some amazing buildings when we visited Florence.â
She couldnât help but laugh at that, even with the tears that slipped down her cheeks.
âIâd very much like to hear all about it,â she said, pulling back enough that she could look at Elyraâs face, brush back a bit of her hair as she cradled her face. She smiled back, her own eyes watery, though the smile was genuine.
Valion ripped his sword out of a Seelie soldier, kicking another in the chest as he sent another blast of ice towards the the rest of the phalanx defending the northern entrance. He dodged a bolt of fire, skewering another before whipping around and freezing another in their tracks.
Riona would run out of disposable soldiers soon enough, be forced to call their retreat behind Ghrianâs walls. Then it would only take time.
Time he didnât have, but heâd have to weather it.
He just didnât want it to turn into another mess like in the Heartlands. He couldnât leave Elyra alone again for so long, wouldnât leave her vulnerable as he had.
Of course, that meant leaving it to Lucien or Lennox for a few days at a time.
A lot could go wrong in a few days.
Still, heâd have to, at least to check on her healing, make sure nothing was going wrongâhe was worried about the scars thickening, worried about what that would do to her dexterity, never mind how it could make the pain linger.
He knew well enough about that.
He took another vicious swipe at the next soldier, freezing the ground around him, turning it to a blanket of ice. He hardly needed to to call any water to him, not with all the blood.
She hadn't meant to stumble upon Alucard's castle, nor infringe on his markedly thin hospitality. Still, she had little choice once he decided to take her in, set on nursing her back to health even though he seemed to find the very sight of her contemptible. Are the castle walls enough to keep her past at bay? Or will she become yet another ghost wandering the crumbling halls?
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Compromise
She wasnât surprised to find Adrian in the library. They both spent most of their time there, even if it was far less than before the villagers had arrived.
He sat next to Andrei, the pair of them pouring over a book. It took her a moment to realize they were talking about celestial navigation, what with all the scribbling and talk of angles and formulas. She had a hard time parsing it, but Andrei was hanging on his every word, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
He was such a serious boy, but he loved learning, was always enthralled by any talk of far-off places.
She should have been planning a trip, introducing the children to the sort of culture they lacked out in the Wallachian wilderness, should have been sitting down and planning curriculum with Sypha, planning for when sheâd step in when she had the baby, should have been planning her weddingâ
She should have been doing nearly anything but worrying about what nightmare her father was keeping from her.
Of course, he could never make things easy.
Sheâd just decided to sneak away, rather than interrupt Andreiâs lesson, when Adrian turned.
âRose?â he asked, immediately rising from his chair to cross to her. âIs everything alright?â
Andrei turned in his seat, surveying her with sad, grey eyes, his brow pinched.
âYesâyes. I didnât realize you were giving a lesson, I donât want to interrupt.â
âNonsense,â he said, carefully taking hold of her hands and examining them, gently tracing over scars, noting how they were healing.
âTheyâre fine, Adrian. Dad checked them.â
âThat doesnât mean that I shouldnât,â he said, tone deceptively light, though it didnât hide the tension in his jaw.
âJust finish your lesson,â she said softly, nodding towards Andrei and the books piled on the table in front of him.
âItâs okay,â Andrei said, face still so terribly pinched. âWe were already done, I just stayed after to ask some questions. Canâcan I borrow this book to keep reading?â
âOf course,â Adrian said, turning back to him. âYou can borrow anything, so long as you take care of it.â
âI will, I promise,â he said quickly, clutching the book to his chest like a precious treasure. She couldnât help but smile at the sight.
âI know you will. Youâre not the one I worry about,â he said with a sigh. âI never thought Iâd have to specify not to eat jam over a book. Nor that itâs meant to be spread on something, not simply eaten with a spoon.â
Andrei huffed a laugh, though he quickly looked down at his shoes to try and hide it. Adrian crossed to the table and pulled another book from one of the stacks and handed it to him.
âThis might help with some of the basics, if the other gets confusing. Itâs a very good book, but it does meander a bit.â
âOkay. Thank you!â he said, flashing a smile at Adrian before turning towards the door. He stopped, though, when he reached her.
âI hope youâre feeling better.â
âIâm starting to. Thank you,â she said, offing him was she hoped was a reassuring smile. Andrei opened his mouth and shut it, pausing before he spoke again.
âDonâtâdonât tell Mrs. Belmont, but I miss your lessons. Hers are fine!â he said quickly, clearly worried about being offensive. âI just really like the books you picked on ancient history.â
âI should be able to go back to them soon,â she said, a bit of shame heating her ears. âYou could always ask, though if you want me to pick more books.â
âI didnât want to bother you.â
âYouâre not a bother,â she said, furrowing her brow. He just glanced between the pair of them.
âIâI should go make sure Adelina isnât driving Maria up the wall. Thank you, again,â he said, and scurried out.
Elyra sighed, staring after him for a moment before turning back to Adrian.
âIâm sorry, I didnât mean to drive him off.â
âItâs fine, dove, we were nearly done.â
She made a face. She wouldnât doubt he would have gone on another hour or two, until he went to make dinner. She decided to let it go, though.
âWho spilled jam in a book?â she asked instead. He raised a brow.
âIâll give you a guess.â
âAdelina?â
âAll over the Young Reader Primer. At least it wasnât a book I cared about, though Iâve given them all a lecture about how to properly treat them. And Iâve moved the jam out of reach of little hands.â
âWas she really just eating it with a spoon?â
âI think she might be the only person with a bigger sweet tooth than you. She got through half the jar before I caught her.â
She huffed a laugh, imagining the sort of mess he must have walked in on. He drew her attention back, though, by taking hold of her hands again, his touch as delicate as if he were handling fine porcelain.
âWhatâs wrong?â he asked, searching her face. âIs your tonic wearing off? Itâs nearly time for anotherââ
âNo, IâmâIâm only a bit sore. I justâValion was acting strange and then he left really quickly andâsomethingâs wrong, but he wonât tell me. He wanted me to leave it alone, but I have a terrible feeling about it. I just want to figure out whatâs going on.â
Adrianâs lips thinned as he listened, expression pinched.
âI justâmaybe if I go corner him at the house heâll tell me. I justâI donât know. I could just be being silly.â
âI doubt that,â he said. âAreâare you sure you want to go back to the house afterââ
He broke off, making a face. She felt herself deflate a bit.
âNo,â she said honestly. âBut thatâs where heâd be. Or, at least thatâs the only place I know heâd be.â
Adrian sighed. âJust let me gather a few things, then Iâll be ready to go.â
âYou donât have toââ she began, though she didnât quite mean it. He rolled his eyes.
âDonât be ridiculous, dove,â he said, holding out his arm for her to take. He lead her back to their chambers, where he first crossed to the dresser to retrieve one of the half-dozen or so tinctures for pain heâd left there, removing the cork before handing it to her.
She didnât ague, merely took it, glad for the relief it provided, even if it left her feeling a bit in a fog. Without it, the ache in her hands made her nauseous.
Adrian retrieved a proper jacket from the wardrobe before buckling on his belt that held his longsword and pulling it on overtop. She eyed the sword, wishing she could tell him that he was being ridiculous.
He caught her, staring at her as if he could read her thoughts.
âRoseââ
âItâll be fine. Justâletâs just get it over with,â she said, pulling open a gate before she could think better of it. She was tired of Valion lying to her, tired of him keeping things from her, even if he thought it kept her saferâclearly, things were much worse than she knew, if the Queen of Seelie wanted her dead so badly.
Alucard did his best not to glare at the stone manor, to push down the roiling anger in his gut.
The last thing Rose needed was more things to worry about. If only Valion had ever learned to compose himself, but he was hardly better than a child throwing a fitâhe had to make it everyone elseâs problem.
She should be home restingâhe knew her hands ached, especially at the end of the day, especially since sheâd just had the stitches removed, not to mention the rest of her wounds. But instead she was going to figure out the reason of Valionâs latest tantrum.
Still, he kept a hand reassuringly on Rosalindâs back as he looked for anything out of the ordinary, any sign of movement, his other hand on the hilt of his blade.
He watched her make a series of complicated gestures in the air, watched her wince as she didâsheâd deny it, if he mentioned it, though. At least until she talked to her father and forced some truth from his lips.
She was so damn stubborn. He hated how she suffered for it.
He stepped forward to open the door for her, to save her the unnecessary movement. He followed her inside, glancing around the entrancewayâit was different than the first time heâd been.
The paintings on the walls were the same, as was the black trim work, but it looked lived in, in a way it hadnât before. There was a book perched on the narrow table by the door, amidst all the strange knickknacks, boots left by the door, cloaks left on the coatrack, rather than put away in the hall closet.
It looked a bit more like a home, and less of a mausoleum.
Had Valion relaxed his protections about the place too, his wards? Was that how someone was able to nearly murder Rose in her bed?
âDad!â she called, loud enough that he couldnât pretend to not hear her, even in his studio. Alucard froze, though, as he heard movement upstairs, heard two heartbeats.
âRose,â he said, voice hardly more than a whisper as he tugged her back from the stairs, stepping in front of her. âSomethingâs wrong, someone else is here.â
âWhat?â she asked, face going white.
âWe should go,â he hissed, eyes sweeping around them, looking for some hint of who might be upstairs. She didnât listen, though, only tried to step towards the stairs again, eyes shining.
âDAD!â she yelled again, frantic, this time. The air felt electric around them, heavy with magic. He unsheathed his blade as he heard footsteps approaching, mind whirring with different scenarios.
He froze, though, at the sight of a familiar figure.
âGranddad?â Rosalind asked, voice cracking as she spotting Colm at the top of the stairs.
âDawnâs LightâElyra, darling! Oh! How are you? Iâve been so worried,â he said, hurrying down the stairs with hardly a glance at the sword in his hand.
He looked much the same as he had at Solstice, though he wore a rather rumpled brown doublet and his hair looked as though heâd been running his hands through it all day.
And he looked frightened.
âWhatâwhat are you doing here? Whereâs Dad? Whyâ?â she broke off, just shaking her head as she tried to make sense of it.
âDid your father notâwell, I suppose that would be wise, all things considered,â he said, almost to himself before forcing a smile. âYour father is having us stay here, while he sorts things out with Seelie.â
âWhatâs going on?â she asked, though she looked up at movement, again, on the landing. She froze at the sight of RĂłisĂn standing there in a dress far too formal for puttering around the house, shoulders curling in as if she wanted to disappear.
He glanced between the two, trying to make sense of the reaction, noted Colm look between the two as well, expression turning tight.
âOh, this is very silly, we canât have you just standing in the foyer! Come sit downâcome, come! Adrian, itâs very lovely to see you again,â he said almost too cheerily as he ushered them towards the parlor. Alucard let out a breath, sheathing his sword.
âHow are your hands, Starshine? Your father was worried,â Colm asked as he lead her to one of the couches sitting next to her as his eyes searched over her, anxiety plain behind them. Alucard sat on her other side, reaching automatically to place a hand on her back in an effort to soothe her.
âThey, umâthey ache. Dad says theyâre healing alright though,â she said, sounding so very unsure.
âYou poor dear. Iâm so sorry. IâIâm sure your father has something for the pain around here that I could findââ
âI just took one. Adrian made sure I did.â
âThank you,â Colm said, turning his familiar green gaze on him for a moment before he focused back on his granddaughter. âIâve been so very worried about you, my dear.â
âI didnât meanââ
âDonât be ridiculous. How could we not worry? May I?â he asked, holding out his hands for hers. It struck him as odd, after all heâd seen of Valionâs parentsâtheyâd never asked for her permission for a thing, didnât care how she felt.
At least Colm seemed as kind as he remembered, from their brief time meeting at Solstice.
Rose deserved one family member that was just kind in Faery.
Rose placed her hands in his, after a moment, though she looked away as he examined them. He made a face as his thumbs ghosted over the deeper wounds, touch so incredibly gentle.
âOh dearâno wonder youâre in so much pain. Iâm so sorry, my darling girl. Iâm so sorry we couldnât stop it.â
Rose opened her mouth, clearly searching for words, only to shut it again, dropping her gaze to her lap.
âWe should have your nana look at themâsheâs much more skilled in healing than I. Perhaps thereâs something more to be done,â he said and Rose stiffened, though he wasnât sure if it was because of his words or the door opening again.
RĂłisĂn hesitantly pushed her way in, carrying a tea tray. Alucard couldnât help but note the way Rose swallowed hard before dropping her gaze once more to her lap.
âIâI thought you might like some tea. IâI wasnât quite sure what you prefer so IâI just brought everything,â RĂłisĂn said, almost hesitantly. She stood in the door another moment before crossing to set the tray down on the coffee table. He could see now that it piled high with a dozen tins of tea as well as milk, sugar, honey and what looked like lemons, though he wasnât sure what the faery equivalent was.
âThank you,â Rose said without looking up, voice cracking slightly.
He traced his hand up and down her spine, hoping to soothe her, even as he looked between Colm and RĂłisĂn. She hadnât told him what had happened, with them, not more than the fact that theyâd tried to warn them of the attack. Still, it had been clear there was something more, something that had happened that had left Valion furious and left her withering at their mere mention, though heâd guess it was more to do her grandmother than her grandfather, based on her reactions.
RĂłisĂn stood there for a long moment before crossing to sit on the couch opposite, her posture stiff. Colm stared at her for a moment before he took a deep breath.
âI got your letter,â he said, smile only looking slightly strained. âYou know I meant you to keep the books, dear.â
âI, I justâI thought youâd want them back.â
âI should have been more specific. Though I did very much enjoy your thoughts on them.â
âI wasnâtâI wasnât sure when Iâd be able to see you next.â
âIt was a lovely surprise.â
âWhatâwhat books did you lend her?â RĂłisĂn asked quietly.
âEarly Material History of the Light Court, Bettaraâs Abridged History of the Golden Age, and something else, what was it?â he said, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember.
âA Record of Trade Along the Emerald Coast in the Forty-Third Century,â Elyra said, voice so terribly small.
âYes! That was the one,â Colm said, nodding to himself. RĂłisĂn made a face.
âOf all the books, you pick the driest, dullest onesââ
âTheyâre not dull,â Colm shot back, making a face. RĂłisĂn shook her head.
âYou could have given her Saratii, or Rishka, or Dawn forbid, something from this century.â
âTheyâre good resources. Thoughâperhaps I should have included some poetry,â he said, almost absently as he leaned over to make a cup of tea. It seemed muscle memory as he added sugar and one of the fruit slices before passing it to RĂłisĂn and reaching for another cup, which he added only the smallest splash of cream to.
Alucard caught Rosalindâs eye as they were momentarily distracted, at least a bit, furrowing his brows in question. She pursed her lips, jaw tight.
He was of half a mind to come up with an excuse to pull her aside and ask what was going on, what had happened, but RĂłisĂn spoke again before he thought of anything believable enough.
âHow are you healing. Has Valâhas your father been attending to you? Hands can be complicated if not monitored correctly,â she said, sounding overly formal and stiff, though a âyour fatherâ had been twisted by anger, even if it seemed sheâd tried to suppress it.
âHeâhe has. And Adrian checks on them about four times a day,â she said, leaning into his side, slightly. RĂłisĂnâs eyes flicked to him, almost as if she were noticing him for the first time.
âThatâthatâs good,â she said, though her expression remained pinched. âI believe we met briefly at the Solstice ball.â
âYes,â he said, unsure of what else to say. Heâd hardly exchanged a handful of pleasantries with her, though Colm had been quick to draw him into conversation about his studies.
âIt seemsâit seems you take after your grandfather,â she said, turning back to Rosalind. âYourâyour mother was never one for academics. Colmâyour grandfather had to practically tie her down to the chair at your age to get her to complete her lessons.â
âIt wasnât that bad,â Colm said with a huff of laughter, though it didnât disguise the sadness behind his eyes. âShe just hated sitting still for long enough to get through them. If I read to her to her in the garden while she puttered about she didnât mind them.â
Rosalind seemed to deflate a bit at the mention of her mother. He reached out, taking her hand automatically, though he didnât squeeze it in reassurance as he usually would have, just held it, as if it were made of glass. He saw RĂłisĂn note it, but she didnât say anything.
The silence lingered for an uncomfortably long moment, before Rosalind finally broke it.
âWell, um, we shouldâwe were just looking for D-Dad, but um, heâs not here, so we should justâwe donât want to interrupt your day,â she stammered, staring once more at her skirt. He stood with her, more than happy to leave, especially when she was so clearly uncomfortable, and he couldnât try to fix it, because he didnât know why.
âElyraââ Colm said, standing up very fast. âYouâre notâweâd love you to stay longer. Ifâif you can. I understand, though, if you canât.â
Despite his words, he very much looked as though heâd be devastated if she left. He watched Rosalindâs resolve break as she looked at him him, shoulders slumping.
âIâI suppose we can stay a little longer,â she said, and he beamed, though she just seemed to curl inward even more.
âDove, could youâcould you show me where that book was. I just donât want to forget it again, like last time,â Alucard said, not caring that it was a barely veiled excuse. She nodded, looking far too relieved and rose, taking a step towards the door before she turned back to her grandparents.
âWeâweâll be back in a moment,â she said.
âOhâof course, dear,â Colm said quickly. RĂłisĂn just nodded, face pinched. Alucard ushered her out, not caring, frankly, if her grandparents thought it rude.
âWhatâs going on?â Adrian asked, the moment he closed the study door behind them. Elyra stared at the floor, wishing she could seep into it.
âItâsâitâs nothing.â
âItâs clearly not.â
âItâs justâIâm surprised theyâre here. DadâDad was not very happy with them, after everything, and Iâm quite sure RĂłisĂn loathes him, so Iâm not sure why sheâd ever even agree,â she said, still staring at the edge of the rug under Valionâs desk, the intricate pattern of it.
It was true, even if it wasnât all of itâof course it wasnât all of it, but she didnât know how to say any of the rest of it, could only feel its weight on her chest.
She made the mistake of glancing up, of not only seeing Adrianâs pinched face of worry, but the portrait of her mom over the mantlepiece, the portrait Valion had painted of the woman he loved more than anyone.
She looked like RĂłisĂn.
Perhaps her face was a little rounder in the portrait, her features softer, but there was no denying the resemblance, even if RĂłisĂnâs eyes were lavender and sharper than Orlaithâs had been.
At least how Valion always painted her.
âItâs more than that, Rose. Itâs so clear youâre uncomfortable,â Adrian said gently. She pressed her lips together, making a face.
âI justââ she began, looking for the right words. âItâs just hard. TheyâColm only just told RĂłisĂn what happened to my mom. I justââ
She broke off, rather than telling him how she just felt like she was rubbing salt in the wound, that it felt cruel to be around them after their daughter had died giving birth to her.
How the painful politeness was almost worse than the screaming had beenâthe screaming had at least felt honest.
You stole my daughter from me.
She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself. Adrian sighed and pulled her into a hug.
âYou know we donât have to stay. I donât care about being polite,â he said, voice so gentle and soft. She shook her head.
âWeâweâll just stay for an hour. I donât want to upset Colm,â she replied.
Didnât want to upset the one grandparent she had that actually liked her, despite having every reason to not. The one grandparent who ever made her feel as though he saw her and not just the thing she was.
An hour of uncomfortable conversation was fine, if it made him happy.
âOkay,â Adrian said, though he still looked unsure. âThough we can leave whenever you like.â
She nodded, taking a deep breath as she just stared at Valionâs desk, trying to settle herself. She couldnât help but note the jar perched on the side of it, a jar she was quiet sure she recognized from their pantry.
She was nearly sure that was the jar Trevor had been harping on her about, the one Valion had locked his voice in.
She turned to the door without so much as pointing it out to Adrian. Sheâd been rather enjoying the silence at home, she wasnât about to ruin a good thing.
At least for a few more weeks.
âJustâjust let me talk to her,â Colm said, eyes flicking to the door through which Elyra and Adrian had slipped through. âIâll just clear the airââ
âShe canât even bear look at me. IâIâll just find something to do upstairs and stay out of the way. You should enjoy the time you have with her,â RĂłisĂn said, unable to look at him.
âWe just need to work through it, RĂłis. Itâs...unfortunate and uncomfortable, but it wonât get better if you just hide away.â
âI donât know. I justâI donât want to make it harder on her.â
âLet me talk to her. Justâtalk to Adrian so I can pull her aside. Heâs a wonderful boy, I really enjoyed speaking with him at Solstice. And you know I usually donât enjoy speaking to anyone at Solstice.â
She at least attempted a smile at that, though it was hardly convincing.
âOkay. But if notâI donât mind. Itâsâitâs her house, I donât want her to feel uncomfortable in it. More uncomfortable.â
Colm didnât believe for a second RĂłisĂn would be fine hiding away upstairs, but he didnât press. There was no pointâheâd figure out a way to work through the situation, he had to. Besides, at itâs core it was a misunderstandingâthough that did little to soothe the wounds it had created.
Elyra and Adrian returned, pausing in the doorway before they returned to their place on the couch. Elyra stared at the hem of her dress, jaw tight. Adrian, however, looked between the pair of them, gaze sharp. He hadnât let go of her waist since theyâd stepped out, his hold unmistakably protective. Still, he kept his face neutral, if not overly pleasant.
Colm couldnât exactly blame him for that.
RĂłisĂn cleared her throat, rolling her shoulders back slightly as she put on her practiced, Court smile and turned to Adrian.
âI thoughtâI thought I might ask you about your home. I have always found the Mortal Realm rather fascinating, thoughâthough I admit I have done little traveling there. Last I was there, they were constructing a rather lovely temple, the whole thing made of carved marble. I was rather impressed they were able to construct such a thing with no magic, though I have seen Mortals do marvelous things with logs and sleds. Remember that lovely stone circle we sawâwas is Prydein? What did they call it?â
âA henge. Fantastic thing, really,â Colm replied almost automatically.
âYes, yesâhenge. Do they have those by you?â she asked Adrian.
âA henge?â he asked, furrowing his brow.
âYes. Orâwhat did they call it, it had all these fabulous statues and it was for their warrior goddess, Athe-something.â
âThe Parthenon?â Adrian asked eyes going wide.
âWell, I donât know. They just called it âthe Templeâ while we were there.â
âMight I speak with you, dear? Just the two of us?â Colm said quietly to Elyra. She searched his face for a moment before she nodded.
âAdrian,â she said softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder, almost as if she needed to reassure herself. âIâIâm just going to orient Grandad to the library. Dad has a bit of an eclectic organization system, so I thought Iâd show him where everything is.â
Adrian searched her face for a moment before he nodded. âSounds wonderful.â
She gave him a smile before crossing to the door. He followed her up the stairs to the library, noting the way she wrapped her arms around herself.
He took a deep breath, trying to put together the right words.
âIâm so sorry, for how everything happened last we saw. Weâre both very sorry. Yourâyour nana has a bit of a temper and Iâd only just told her...everything. She shouldnât have said any of that in front of you, no matter how furious she is with your father. I justâno one blames you, for what happened to your mother. RĂłisĂnâNana, never blamed you.â
Elyra hung her head, staring at the hem of her dress.
âItâs okay if she does,â she said, voice so very small. He felt tears pricking his eyes, his throat too tight.
âElyra, sweetheart, itâs not your fault. Dawnâs LightâOrlaith would hateââ he broke off as his voice cracked. He couldnât imagine how wretched it would make her feel to know that her daughter blamed herself for being born, that she thought herself a mistake.
It made his heart ache so much it threatened to steal his breath.
âIâm sorry,â he said, stepping forward to pull her into a hug as he heard her sniffle, unable to stand by when she so clearly needed comfort. âIâm so sorry. Itâs a horrible, complicated mess, and we havenât done very well navigating it. Iââ
He broke off, mind whirring as he tried to find a way to convince her that she wasnât a mistake, that she had been so wanted and so loved.
He had no doubt Orlaith had loved her fiercely, from the moment she knew she was pregnant.
âIâm sorry, Iâm not trying to be difficult,â she said and he just held her tighter.
âYouâre not, youâre not being difficult at all,â he replied, automatically smoothing back her hair from her face. He paused when he realized why it was automatic, because heâd done it a thousand times with Orlaith, when she was upset, that Elyra ducked her head in the same way in response, as if she wanted to hide her tears from him.
He couldnât help the tear that slipped down his cheek at that.
âItâs so hard, when you lose someone you love. Grief is miserable and ugly and it rarely brings out the best in anyone. Thatâs why your father sent you away, so you wouldnât have to suffer his grief, so you didnât have to grow up in its shadow. IâI wish he hadnât sent you to the Mortal Realm, I wish we hadnât missed out on so much of your life, that weâd gotten to see you grow, butâI donât know, if it would have been best. Youâd have grown up with family, grown up loved and connected to Faery, butâyouâd have grown up in the shadow of our grief, then. RĂłisĂnâsheâs not good with it, has never been good with it. Itâs easier to be angry, than to acknowledge the pain, the helplessness. Iâm not making excuses, for how she behaved in front of you, after youâd alreadyâyouâd alreadyââ
He broke off, trying to compose himself as he thought of how very close heâd come to losing her, to losing his only granddaughter.
âI love you, so very much,â he said, voice breaking. âYou are such a wonderful girl and I hate that you feel this way. I want to fix it, I just donât know how.â
She stared at him for a long moment, a fresh tear dipping down her cheek.
âI just want to stop making everyone so sad,â she cried. âI just feel like a constant reminder that sheâs gone and I justâshe died, giving birth to me, I killed her, and I donât even know her. You all miss her so much and I didnât know to miss her and I grew up thinking other people my parents and I donâtâI donât even know if theyâd have wanted me, if theyâd known what I was, that I wasnât theirs.â
âElyraââ he said, voice cracking, but she just plowed ahead, as if she couldnât stop herself.
âAnd I donât want you to be hate Dad, because I know he loved her so much and heâs been all alone since she died and heâs tryingâI know heâs trying. He just doesnât always know what heâs doing because his whole family is horrible and mean and I thinkâI think heâd be just like them, if he hadnât met M-Mom. And I know that doesnât make any of it better, but heâs my dad, and I love him, and heâs the only parent I have left. I donât want you to fight and I know itâs selfish.â
She was sobbing by the end of it, near-hysterical as she stepped away, burying her face in her hands.
Colmâs eyes flicked towards the entrance to the library as he heard the slight creak of the floorboards, saw RĂłisĂn standing in the doorway, Adrian just behind her. RĂłisĂn just stood and stared, as if frozen, for a long moment, lower lip trembling.
âExcuse me,â Adrian said, slipping past and crossing to Elyra without looking at either of them.
âItâs okay, Rose, darling. Itâs okay,â he said, wrapping her in a hug. She just pressed her face to his chest as she sobbed, so clearly trusted him utterly.
âItâs not. Itâs awful, itâs all awful and I canât fix any of it.â
âItâs not for you to fix,â he said softly.
âYes it is, itâs my fault,â she cried, though her words were almost unintelligible. âItâs all my fault.â
Adrian turned to looked at the pair of them without letting go of her.
âCould we have the room, please?â he asked, ever so politely, though there was a steel to his words.
âYesâyes, of course,â RĂłisĂn said reaching out to grab his sleeve and tug him from the room.
âItâs not your fault,â Alucard said, throat tight as Rosalind sobbed into his chest.
âI ruined their lives, just by being born. I ruined Valionâsââ
âNo you didnât.â
âTheyâd all be happy, if my mother was still alive, and Faery wouldnât be changingââ
âIâd be miserable, if you werenât born. Iâd have been left all alone in that castle, never knowing what it was like to truly be loved, never knowing my favorite person. More of the villagers would have died, if it wasnât for you, the children would have been left adrift. IâmâIâm so happy because youâre here and I hate that you feel like any of this is your fault. I hate seeing you so sad,â he said, voice cracking by the end.
âIâm sorryââ
âI donât want you to be sorry. I justâyouâre such a wonderful person, and you make the world better, just by being in it. You make Faery betterâwho the hell wants an endless night without the moon or stars? Who the hell wants everything to stay the same, forever? Youâve done them a favor, as far as Iâm concerned.â
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, face ruddy and tear-stained.
âR-RĂłisĂnâshe kept yelling at D-Dad, telling him h-heâd stolen her d-daughter, but she wouldnât have diedââ
Alucard made a face, the whole dreadful, uncomfortable afternoon suddenly making sense.
âDoveââ
âIâm not supposed to exist. Thatâs why, thatâs w-whyââ
âAccording to who? Some idiot faeries a million years ago? That awful Seelie queen? What do they know? Why should they have any say in it?â
âI donâtâI donât know,â she said, face so horribly crumpled, though it felt like progress.
âYour parents wanted you, Rose. It was so clear in every room of your house, how much they loved you. Why wouldnât they love you, just because you were different? You were still theirs.â
âBut IÂ wasnâtââ
âYou were in all the ways that counted. Youâd never say that the children are lesser, because theyâre not biologically ours. You donât love them less.â
She sniffled, dropping her gaze. He plowed ahead.
âItâs not your fault, what happened to your mom. Itâs nothing you chose to do, nothing you had any control over. Itâs just a terrible thing that happened. And RĂłisĂn can be as mad as she wants, but it doesnât make it your fault. Your parents wanted you, they were trying to keep you safe from all this Faery nonsense. I meanâconsidering everything thatâs happened, it makes sense that theyâd want to make sure no one knew you were both Seelie and Unseelie.â
âThen why does it feel liked it?â she asked, voice breaking.
âI donât know,â he said softly. âBut itâs not. None of this is your fault.â
She trembled for a moment before she stepped forward again, wrapping him in a hug. He just held her, hoping it did something to soothe her.
He hated that she felt this way, hated that everything about Faery only made it worse. He just wished he could make her see herself like he saw her, like Sypha saw her, like the children saw her.
âDo you want to go home?â he asked, softly.
âI donâtâI donât know. We still donât know anythingââ
âAnd we can try again another time. We can come back, it doesnât have to be now.â
âBut what if something awful is happening?â
âThen your father should have told you, instead of making you worry without any sort of recourse, especially with everything else youâre already dealing with. Itâs not fair to you,â Alucard said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
Certainly Valion must have figured out, by now, that withholding things only left Rosalind more vulnerable, that it only made her more anxious, that it wasnât fair, when she was the one being attacked, the one most at risk.
But of course heâd only left her in the dark again, hadnât even told her that there were other people staying in their house, even though it had only just been broken into, even though clearly something big must have happened for him to allow other people to stay there, and stay there without him.
He remembered how very uncomfortable Valion had been with simply the idea of he, Sypha and Trevor setting foot in his house.
âIâI think I want to go home. I donâtâmaybe heâll be back soon. I justâI think I want to be done with today.â
âThen letâs be done with it,â he said, giving her a soft smile. She tried her best to return it, though her eyes were still watery.
âIâll just have to make dinner, and then we can hide away the rest of the night.â
âOh yes,â she said, smiling even as she sniffled, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. âI do think the children will riot if the cooking is left to Trevor, again.â
âIt might be interesting to watch,â Alucard said, letting a small smile curve his lips, even if it did nothing to ease the weight of everything bearing down on them.
âIt might be cruel,â Rose replied.
âTo the children or to Trevor? I donât care if itâs cruel to Trevor,â he said, and that made her huff a laugh, at least.
âThe children. Even Sypha said it was bad.â
He sighed over-dramatically, rolling his eyes. âI suppose Iâll cook, then.â
âIs there still sweetbread left over?â she asked and he couldnât help but laugh.
âYouâre just as bad as the kids. You might be worse.â
âI havenât started eating jam out of the jar yet.â
âI donât think weâre far off,â he said, reaching out to cup her cheek gently, even if his words dripped in sarcasm. She really smiled, at that.
âThat doesnât answer my question,â she said, a little of the familiar mischief sparkling behind her eyes. He rolled his own, trying not to smile.
âYes, of course we do, I hid it in the pantry on the glamoured shelf.â
She just stared at him for a moment, expression so terribly soft.
âI love you,â she said. âI hope you know how very much I love you.â
âAlmost as much as I love you,â he said, pressing his lips to her forehead before ushering her out of the library so they could return home.
âI thoughtâwhat on earth did you say to her?â RĂłisĂn asked Colm as she dragged him down the hall by his sleeve and down the stairs.
âIâI was just trying to explain what happened, and how sorry we wereââ
RĂłisĂn made a face as she heard Elyra still crying in the library, heard Adrian trying to soothe her.
Colm was right, he was a very nice boy.
âI donât want her to feel like this, I donât want her to feel like sheâs caught between,â she said, staring very hard at the trim.
âShe is though,â Colm said, voice steady in the way she hated, because it usually meant he was right. She stared at him for a long moment, throat tight.
âItâs not fair,â she said finally. He gave her a sad sort of smile.
âOf course itâs not fair. None of itâs fair. Itâs not fair we lost Orlaith and didnât know, itâs not fair Valion didnât have anyone to help him with Elyra, itâs not fair she grew up in the Mortal World without a clue who she was. Itâs not fair Orlaith didnât get to raise her. We canât change any of thatâyou know we canât. Weâwe can be there now, try to be present now, do whatâs best for her. I know youâre angry with ValionâI think a part of me will always be angry with him. But that doesnât help her. At leastâat least in that respect, weâre all on the same side. Heâs her father, and she loves himâwe have to find a way to make peace with it, for her.â
She sighed, curling her hands into fists before uncurling them.
She hated Valionâhow could she not, after all those years spent hoping? She hated that he hadnât told them, hated that he stayed silent all those years when they were searching, when he knew the sort of pain they felt. She hated that heâd sent their granddaughter away, hated that sheâd been raised a changeling, shorn of Faery, of her magic, of her birthrights. She hated that heâd been too involved in his fatherâs stupid, pointless war in the Heartlands to properly look after his daughter, that he let her be kidnapped and abused, that he let her learn that sort of fear. She hated that heâd let her fight, after her bastard of an uncle called a trial by combat, hated that he hadnât fought for her, even if she knew Veylon had done everything in his power to make sure he couldnât. She hated that Elyra had nearly been killed in his house, hated that with all his prodigious magicks he couldnât keep once small girl safe.
She hated listening to her granddaughter cry, hated that she blamed herself for her parentsâ foolishness. She hated seeing the scars across her skin, seeing how deep sheâd been cut, how much pain she was still in. She hated hearing her wonder if her foster parents would have loved her if theyâd known she was a changeling, hated that she thought herself merely some poor vestige of her mother, something to only illicit grief.
And she hated hearing her defend Valion, hated that she wasnât furious with him for all heâd let her suffer, hated how obvious it was that she did love him.
It would be so much easier if Valion could simply be the villain, if it all wasnât some horrible convoluted tangle, if she couldnât seeâdespite herselfâwhy he might have done some of the miserable things heâd done.
âI still hate him,â she said, voice hardly more than a whisper.
âMore than you want to get to know her? More than you could love her?â Colm asked, though she knew he already knew the answer.
âNo,â she said, jaw tight. âOf course not.â
âThen we have to figure it out, figure out a way not to put her in the middle of that. Itâs not fair to her.â
âI know,â she said, hating the feeling of tears pricking behind her eyes. Colm reached out and took her hand, giving it a little squeeze.
She looked up as she heard footsteps, saw Elyra and Adrian appear at the top of the stairs. Adrianâs posture was stiff, face carefully controlled, but Elyraâs eyes were red, skin blotchy from crying.
No one had ever taught her to mask her emotions, that she needed to. She found herself wondering what sort of people her foster parents had been, that they let her simply feel, never made emotions the antithesis of propriety, of decorum. That sheâd been able to grow up without them being used against her. What an odd thing, in a child of twenty. She couldnât imagine what it would have been like, to not have been raised amidst the games of Court.
It might have been lovely.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself as they descended the stairs.
âWeâve got to get going,â Adrian said, not unkindly, though it left little room for discussion.
âYesâIâm sure youâre both very busy. And you should be resting anyway, dear,â Colm said, doing his best to disguise his disappointment. Sheâd be surprised if the children could see it, but she could in the slight bowing of his shoulders, the wideness of his smile, the way it didnât quite meet his eyes.
She stepped forward, preparing to be rebuffed, though she hoped her granddaughter might offer her more grace than she deserved.
âElyra, mayâmay I speak to you?â RĂłisĂn asked softly.
Elyra hesitated a moment, her eyes flicking to Adrian. She nodded, though, after a moment. She stepped into the kitchen, idly fussing with the fruit in the bowl on the counter, sorting them by color. RĂłisĂn followed her, standing on the opposite side of the counter, trying not to wring her hands.
âIâI am so very sorry,â RĂłisĂn said quietly, voice tight. âIâI never meant to hurt you, but I did and Iâm so, so sorry.â
Elyra just nodded, though she didnât look in the least bit convinced. RĂłisĂn couldnât blame her, though she scrambled for the right words, the right way to try and mend what sheâd tornâfor all her years as a diplomat, she floundered, in the face of sincerity, in the lack of machinations and half-truths. She could play the game, knew the right things to say and when, knew the role she had to play, there.
It was all so much harder, when there were no games, no lies, just hurt and pain and the blood that tied them together.
At least Orlaith would have yelled at her. There was hardly a person in the world her daughter would ever hold her tongue for, least of all her. At least that way they could simply lay it all out, get it out of their systems and move on from it. Colm had always hated it, but he hated any sort of conflict.
Elyra was much too demure, too polite, it was clear. Sheâd sit and endure the suffocating awkwardness, not say a word about it.
Orlaith would have begun telling her off before sheâd so much as fully opened the door.
âIâI know I havenât earned the right to ask any grace of you, but I would very much like to start over. IâI was not fair to you, andâand I was perhaps not the most fair to your father,â she said, taking a deep breath.
Elyra looked up, searching her face as if she was trying to determine if she was lying.
RĂłisĂn forced a smileâas much as she could. It was so hard, when all she wanted to do was cry.
âYour fatherâI have known your father a very, very long time. Butâbut I have known him as the Crown Prince as I have worked ambassador forâfor my aunt,â she said, each word a struggle to string together in the right way, especially with the way her throat tightened and tears pricked at the backs of her eyes. âItâItâs clear there are other...facets of his person that I was not aware of andâand while I am still angry that he didnât tell us about Orlaith, Colmâyour Granddad was right, we cannot change it. I understand what it is to want to protect your child, even if it was at our expense.â
Elyra just stared at her for a long moment before she spoke, eyes haunting, beneath snowy lashes.
Her daughterâs eyes.
And Valionâs face. Not quite the same, but sheâd never once questioned upon meeting her that she was his. Perhaps thatâs why she hadnât noted her eyes, couldnât have ever guessed why they might have looked familiar.
How could there be so few traces of Orlaith left? It felt unfair, after sheâd given so much to bring her into the world, doubly so when Valion hadnât even raised her.
âIâm really sorry, aboutâabout Mom,â Elyra said, voice soft, but not small in the same way it had been, as if something had settled.
âElyraââ she started, face crumpling. She never wanted to hear her blame herself in such away again, never wanted her to feel that way.
How could it have ever been her fault?
âI know Dad loved her, though,â she said, in that same soft voice. âI know he still does. And I know youâI know you and Granddad loved her. I justâheâs different, when heâs not in that awful palace, when heâs here. Heâs justâheâs just my dad. I thinkâI think you might like my dad, if you got to know him. I justâyou all miss her, so much. I donât think Mom would want you all to fight, butâbut I donât know.â
She trailed off, dropping her gaze to the ground.
âShe wouldnât,â RĂłisĂn said quietly. âAnd sheâd have been furious that Iâd dragged you into it.â
Elyra stared at her for a long moment, long enough that she hadnât been sure sheâd say anything else at all.
âIâI never had grandparents growing up. Myâmy Mortal parents were older, when theyâwhen Dad sent me to live with them. I think Iâd like to have grandparents. Real grandparents, not like Dadâs parents.â
âI would very much like to be your Nana,â she said, voice cracking slightly. âI wish I hadnât missed so much time.â
Elyra stared at her for a moment, brows furrowed
âWe can still start now,â she said, a small, unsure smile curving her lips.
âWe can start now,â RĂłisĂn said, returning it. Elyra stared at her for another moment before she carefully stepped forward and gave her a hug. RĂłisĂn froze for a moment in shock before she returned it holding her as tight as she dared.
âIâm glad to meet you,â Elyra said, voice slightly muffled by their embrace. âGranddad says you like Mortal architecture. Adrian and I just saw some amazing buildings when we visited Florence.â
She couldnât help but laugh at that, even with the tears that slipped down her cheeks.
âIâd very much like to hear all about it,â she said, pulling back enough that she could look at Elyraâs face, brush back a bit of her hair as she cradled her face. She smiled back, her own eyes watery, though the smile was genuine.
Valion ripped his sword out of a Seelie soldier, kicking another in the chest as he sent another blast of ice towards the the rest of the phalanx defending the northern entrance. He dodged a bolt of fire, skewering another before whipping around and freezing another in their tracks.
Riona would run out of disposable soldiers soon enough, be forced to call their retreat behind Ghrianâs walls. Then it would only take time.
Time he didnât have, but heâd have to weather it.
He just didnât want it to turn into another mess like in the Heartlands. He couldnât leave Elyra alone again for so long, wouldnât leave her vulnerable as he had.
Of course, that meant leaving it to Lucien or Lennox for a few days at a time.
A lot could go wrong in a few days.
Still, heâd have to, at least to check on her healing, make sure nothing was going wrongâhe was worried about the scars thickening, worried about what that would do to her dexterity, never mind how it could make the pain linger.
He knew well enough about that.
He took another vicious swipe at the next soldier, freezing the ground around him, turning it to a blanket of ice. He hardly needed to to call any water to him, not with all the blood.
The problem with having OCs is that sometimes you wanna read about your little guy being in situations but unfortunately he is YOUR little guy and no one is gonna put him in that situation but you. Tragic.
She hadn't meant to stumble upon Alucard's castle, nor infringe on his markedly thin hospitality. Still, she had little choice once he decided to take her in, set on nursing her back to health even though he seemed to find the very sight of her contemptible. Are the castle walls enough to keep her past at bay? Or will she become yet another ghost wandering the crumbling halls?
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Ash
Night no longer crept over the edge of the Dawnlandsâit rolled, choking out the golden sunlight and leaving the fields to wither. Nothing pushed it back, could even hold it at bay any longerâtheyâd been able to halt its creeping, or at least arrest it to nearly nothing before, but nowâ
Now it was hungry, searching. Now it devoured everything in its path, everything that it could.
Ysolde had made sure of it.
It was time for the Old World to die once and for all, for something new to grow, to have the chance to be better without being choked of its life for being different. It had been how many millennia since sheâd walked these lands as more than a spirit, and yet it was all the sameâstagnant and rotting and desperate to stay that way.
Ysolde dug her toes into the dirt, could almost feel it under her feet, could imagine the coolness and slight dampnessâ
The crops around her crumbled, turned to dust, grey and devoid of life. She watched almost absently as the wind carried it south, towards the capital, almost as if it were meant to be a warning.
It seemed a kindness they didnât deserve. Still, she did nothing to stop it, nothing to stop the rage boiling in her gut, the hatred that had fermented for however many hundreds of hundreds of yearsâshe didnât even know, precisely, how long it had been, anymore.
Long enough, that was certain.
If they wished to be afraid of something so badly, sheâd give them something to be afraid of, give them the reward they deserved for trying once again to murder her poor Amaris.
Sheâd remind them of when true nightmares walked the Courts.
âHow are your hands, dove?â Adrian asked, rolling over from his side of the bed to survey how sheâd perched at the edge of the other side, hands clutched to her chest.
She hadnât meant to wake him, had hoped to try and work the ache from them before he woke, though she didnât for the life of her know how.
âTheyâre just sore,â she said dismissively, eyes downcast. She took a deep breath, trying to motivate herself enough to rise from her place on the edge of the bed, to cross to the wardrobe and find something that wasnât a nightgown to wear.
She somehow felt more useless, now, without the use of her hands, than she had with her broken leg.
Or perhaps it was just that the fear felt different, this time.
She started, slightly, as Adrian took her hands, touch so gentle it made tears prick at her eyes. He wordlessly pressed his lips to the backs of them, despite the bandages, handled her with such tender care. She looked up, enough to find his golden eyes searching her face, brow pinched.
âIâll make a tonic. That way I can reduce the inflammation and the discomfort.â
âAdrian, you neednât trouble yourselfââ
âItâs no trouble,â he said, expression turning severe. âYou should know that by now, my dove, know that if there is a thing a can do to make you feel even the slightest bit better, that I will.â
âYouâre already doing far too much,â she said, guilt sitting heavy in her stomach. Sheâd been useless since sheâd returned, had left everything to fall on him and Sypha, and he already did so muchâ
âHardly,â he scoffed, shaking his head.
âYou are. Youâre doing everything and Iâm justââ
âYou were just nearly killed, Rose. You are healing, youâre still reeling from the attack. You are taking care of yourself right now, taking the time you need. Thatâs what I want, dove. I justâI want to take care of you. Please, justâlet me.â
She felt her lip wobble, felt a single, hot tear slip down her cheek without her permission. Adrian cocked his head to the side, his own face crumpling, if only a little as he reached out to brush away her tear with his thumb.
âY-you always have to take care of me,â she said, voice so terribly small. It wasnât fair that he was always nursing her back to health, always rescuing her, always picking up the pieces. She didnât want him to have to, wanted to be stronger, strong enough to handle it all without burdening him even moreâ
âAnd I always will. In sickness and in healthâthatâs how it goes, doesnât it?â he asked, pressing his lips into a thin smile even if it did nothing to lessen the furrow between his brows.
She looked away, trying not to sniffle.
âItâs not fair, Adrian. None of this is fair to you. IâIâm sorry for dragging you into allââ
âHey,â he said, voice almost sharp as he shifted, leaned over so he could catch her eye. âDonât you dare. I love you, and it is not a burden to love you, not by any stretch of the imagination. So just let me love you, let me care for my love.â
She swallowed hard, fighting back more tears, but nodded. He smiled at her then, really smiled, and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips before rising from the bed. She tried to compose herself, to settle.
His words might have reassured her, but they didnât quite drive away that lingering unease, the voice that said that he was wrong, that she was a burdenâof course she was. Maybeâmaybe she wasnât, to him, but she was in Faery, a burden that had stolen her mother away, taken her life for her ownâ
âHere,â Adrian said, returning with a cloth heâd wet in the bathroom tap. âWashing my face with cold water always makes me feel a bit better after being upset.â
He swiped it across her skin, paying special attention to her eyes, letting the cloth linger. She had to admit it did help, if just a little.
He cradled her face with his other hand a moment before getting up once more and returning with clothes for the day for the pair of them. He helped her dress, carefully pulled the fabric over her bandages, made sure nothing was too tight as to put pressure on any of her injuries. He made a face as he fussed, fingers skimming over the golden-yellow silk of her gown. He only turned to dress himself when he deemed it fine.
She couldnât help but note the vest he pulled on over his shirtâit was perhaps only a shade or two darker than that of her dress. She wondered if it had been an intentional choice or happenstance. She couldnât help but think it made them look like a pairâa matched set, though of what, she wasnât precisely sure.
He hummed to himself as he crossed to her vanity and grabbed her brush. He kept humming to himself as he brushed her hair and twisted it half up and secured it with a handful of jeweled hair pins before brushing out his own.
âIt seems lighter,â she said without thinking, wishing she could run her hands through it, feel the silkiness of it. She loved his hair, loved how it haloed him like sunshine. He paused, lips thinning a moment before he nodded.
âIâd thought so too.â
She couldnât quite make sense of his expression, fumbled for the right question to ask to understand the sudden tightness at the corners of his mouth, the return of the furrow betwixt his brows.
He finished before she found it.
âWill you accompany me while I make something for breakfast?â he asked, arranging his face into something more familiar, something very-near hopeful. She nodded, if only for the smile that tugged at his features.
âWonderful. Let me make a tincture for the pain and inflammation and then we shall get right to it,â he said, leading her from the room, an arm wrapped around her waist as they made towards the infirmary.
She leaned into his touch, unable to stop herself from savoring it, even if the awful gnawing feeling remained. She pushed it away as best she could, tried not to think of the nightmare left in Faery, just waiting to bleed over into their wonderful, perfect life.
Perfect but for the mess she kept dragging into it.
Valion sat in his studio, seething. He knew what he had to do, but he hated it it, his skin crawling at the very thought. He glanced over at a half finished portrait of Elyra sat on one of his easelsânearly all the paintings he was working on now were of her. He made a face, slumping in his seat.
Elyra would be devastated if something happened to her grandparents. Even RĂłisĂn, who she was convinced hated her, whoâd never said a kind thing to her, sheâd be heartbroken over.
RĂłisĂn, who would have hardly blinked at Elyraâs near-death, had Colm not told her that she was her grandchild.
She didnât deserve a granddaughter like Elyra.
His eyes flicked absently to the painting next to him, the portrait he still couldnât get right of the two of them in the library, seemingly no matter what he did. He just looked out of place next to herâof course he did. She was goodâheâd made sure she was good.
And he was a monster.
Heâd become worse, if it kept her safe, kept anyone from ever laying a hand on her again. He didnât care if he had to drown Seelie in blood to do it. In fact, that bothered him much less than the prospect of what heâd have to do to protect Orlaithâs parents from the fallout.
They couldnât go back to Seelie. Riona would have them flayed for treason, if she was feeling kind.
He got up and stomped to the door and down the stairs before he could think about it any moreâheâd have to do it regardless of how long he stewed, and heâd already spent most of the night inconsolable in Elyraâs room before he could even think about cleaning away the remnants of her attack. Even then, he'd only managed to strip the bed of linens before it became too much.
He swallowed hard, trying not to think of the blood that stained her bed, stained the rug heâd picked out with Orlaith, stained the book sheâd left half-read on her nightstand. She should have been safe thereâhe should have been able to keep her safe.
He tried so hard, and he failed her, over and over again.
Not this time, though. Heâd make sure no one would dare touch her again.
Alucard pulled the roast fowl out of the oven and set it on the counter. It was a rare lunch without the children as Greta had offered to see to them for the rest of the day after their lessons. Heâd been most grateful for the breakâheâd been overjoyed when sheâd offered. It wasnât that he didnât enjoy taking care of them, he just needed some time to see to Rose and give her his undivided attention.
The children had hardly complained, despite what heâd thought. He had the feeling they knew, though, that Rose needed more of his time, for a while.
Heâd do his best to make it up at bedtime with a few extra stories. He knew he wasnât as good at it as Rose was, but heâd grown fond of it.
There was so much in his life, now, that he never thought heâd experience, never mind enjoy, the foremost perhaps stepping in as a parent for the children.
A father.
He wasnât sure he was precisely ready to call himself thatâwasnât sure he deserved the title. Not to mention the baggage that came with his relationship with his own.
He crossed back to the oven and pulled out the smaller dish heâd made for Rosalind, free of any salt or anything that could cause her harm. He plated her dish first, pressing a kiss to her temple as he set it down in front of her.
âThank you,â she said, voice still that terrible soft thing that broke his heart.
âIt smells wonderful,â Sypha said, smiling brightly up at him. He smiled backâshe was starting to show now, if only a little. Trevor just glared at him before turning back to the mess of wrinkled parchment next to him.
He shoved a piece of paper under Rosalindâs nose. She glanced up only enough to make a face at him before clumsily tearing it in two and tossing the pieces back over the table at him. Trevor slammed his hands down on the table, glowering at her, but she didnât even look up as the silverware rattled.
âCut it out,â Alucard snapped at him, noting something about a jar scribbled on the torn paper. His lips twitched up as he remembered the one Valion had threatened him with, all those months ago, eyes flicking over to Sypha to search her face.
She just rolled her eyes.
Trevor scribbled something else down on a fresh piece of paper, shoving it in his direction.
âGet the jar back from the bastard!â
âHe wasnât actually lying,â Alucard said, grinning back at him. âOhâthis is a marked improvement. I might even have to thank him.â
Trevor shot him a rude hand gesture. Alucard just grinned back. His eyes flicked to Rosalind, found the faintest smile curving her lips, even as she continued staring at her plate. He couldnât help the way his face softened at that, smile turning soft despite his urge to keep needling Trevor, especially if he couldnât snap back at him.
He was almost sure it was the first time sheâd really smiled since sheâd returned home.
âDove?â Alucard asked, smoothing his hand over Roseâs curls as he rounded the sofa. She looked up, brow creased, the book on her lap still at the same page it had been when heâd left to help with the childrenâs lessons.
She got lost in her thoughts again, like she had after theyâd rescued her from the Undercrypts, lost in the memories of all sheâd suffered.
âYes?â she asked softly.
âIâI was wondering if I could ask a favor,â he said, searching her face. She just nodded.
âOfâof course.â
âCould you open a gate to Vienna? Iâd like to pick up a few things,â he asked, stomach twisting a bit as he danced around the truth. He didnât like to lie to Rose, even if it was to do something nice.
âI donâtâI donât know that Iâm up for visiting the city just yet,â she said, dropping her eyes to her lap, color blooming over her cheeks.
âYou need to rest,â he said, softly taking hold of her hands. âI wouldnât drag you out on errands. I just thought if you could open a gate for me, and then open another in a few hoursâperhaps at six?â
âOkay,â she said, eyes darting up to search his face, as if she thought he might somehow be upset with her. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.
âIâll bring you back strudel,â he said. That was enough to wring a small smile from her. She reached out and opened one of her golden gates to her house in Vienna, shoulders slumping slightly as she saw the disarray it was left in.
âDo you need anything before I go?â he asked, eyes flicking to the table to make sure she had tea within reach. She shook her head.
He nodded, looking over her one more time before stepping through the gate with his bag.
He sighed as the gate closed, looking around. It was a nice apartment, cozy and well-decorated, but for the destruction left from her kidnapping. He imagined it had been a rather lovely place to grow up, full of books and strange little trinkets from her and her fatherâs travels.
He set his bag down and began rifling through it, pulling out his tools. He was sure it would only take him a few hours to put the place to rightsâhe might not be able to fix the damage to the presses downstairs, but he could certainly clear away what had been broken and clean the blood from the struggle. The coffee table, he thought he could save if he just reattached the leg that had been broken and buffed the scratches from the wood.
He hoped it might cheer her up. No matter how much she said it didnât matter, he knew she hated seeing her childhood home in such a state.
He couldnât help but be a little nosey as he workedâit was hard not to, surrounded by bits of her past.
Her Mortal parents had so clearly adored her. He smiled at the little portraits of her scattered around the apartment, from hardly more than a baby to eighteen or nineteen, wearing the same face she had when sheâd first arrived at his door, though much less thin. There were framed bits of art tooâchildish scribblings and clumsy early illuminations.
He paused at the mantle, at the line of familiar ceramic angels. He picked one up, weighing it in his palm. It was very nearly the same as sheâd gotten for Petru. His eyes flicked to the portrait next to them, of a very pretty young woman with dark blonde hair and brown eyes, skin golden from time in the sun.
Her mother, he realized. He picked it up, staring at her face, at her soft smile, the steadiness of her gaze. She looked kindâhe knew she had been, considering Rose.
He set it back down, swallowing hard. Heâd known, intellectually, that sheâd had a whole life before being dragged from her bed, but it was another thing to see it plainly all around him, see the piles of books she must have been reading before, the flowers that had long since wilted and dried out on the windowsill of the kitchen, a glass that had been left at the table, a set of reading glasses left on the placemat opposite.
Sheâd been left alone for months, after her father passed. Had she placed his reading glasses there, or had that simply been where heâd left them, the last time?
He understood wanting to leave things as they were, leaving it in stasisâheâd done much the same with his childhood room, after heâd had to kill his father, couldnât bear, even, to pick up his fatherâs wedding ring from the floor.
He turned back to his work, resolved to finish before six, before Rose opened him another gate.
He just hoped it would be the balm he intended, hoped it might help to draw her from her fear, from the nightmares that had started again, just the same as after Vranos. If it didnâtâmaybe he could convince her to go back to Florence with himâsheâd been so happy in Florence. He could make the excuse that they should see if Leonardo had finished their portrait, could replace her ring while they were there, eat far too many chestnut cakes.
She needed something, some distraction, something to concentrate on other than the fact that sheâd nearly been murdered, that sheâd nearly died, again.
He pressed his lips together hard, blinking back tears.
He tried to focus on his cleaning, focus on anything but the idea of her alone, of how terrified sheâd been, how close heâd come to losing her.
Valion made a face as he shifted in his chair, the motion enough to pull at the stitches that ran across his chest and upper arm. He turned back to his book, doing his best to ignore the burning acheâhe wouldnât dull his senses with a tonic for the pain, wouldnât do a thing to lower his guard.
Nor would he do a single thing that might make him even the slightest bit less angry.
The longer he stayed furious, the longer his parents would leave him alone, at least until they needed something. Then theyâd have no problem finding him.
Perhaps it was his fault, for assuming they might care in the slightest after the healers had assured them the only lasting damage would be another scar carved into his skin. Heâd slain the would-be assassin, after allâwhat would there even be for them to do in the wake of it all?
He hated the miserable little piece of him that had thought they might offer some comfort, that they might care to, that wanted them to. He should have outgrown such foolishness long ago.
He glared at his book, rather than reading it, clenching his jaw. He wanted to paint, but he couldnât, what with the stitches across his dominant arm.
Another thing to be furious about.
There was a knock on his chamber door. He slammed the book shut, grabbing the dagger sat on the table next to him. He almost hoped it was another fucking would-be assassin, if only for the catharsis of tearing somethingâs throat out. He threw open the door, air crackling with magic just waiting for him to wield it.
He let his hand fall to his side, though, when he spotted the figure on the other side of the door.
Orlaith stood there, pushing a little tea cart and wearing a servantâs uniform. She wore a bushy blonde mustache and matching fake eyebrows and had done something with makeup to try and make herself look more masculine.
He turned away, but not before making sure that she saw the way he rolled his eyes. He crossed back to his chair and dropped into it, tossing aside the dagger.
âYou look ridiculous,â he said as she stepped inside and locked the door behind herself, weaving her own wards over it.
âI think itâs great,â she said, stroking the terrible fake mustache. âIâm thinking of growing my own. I think I look very distinguished.â
âYou look like you raided a community theatre without a budget,â he spat back, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to find a comfortable position again. He could hear Orlaith pushing the tea trolley over, but didnât open them, merely pinched his temples with his good hand.
He only looked up when he felt Orlaith cup his cheek, found her staring at him with an uncharacteristically knotted brow, skin red where sheâd pulled off her disguise. She didnât say anything, just leaned in to pull him into a hug, touch so achingly gentle and aware of his stitches.
He wrapped his arms around her, too tight, not caring about the pain it caused.
âIâve been so worried about you,â Orlaith said, the cheery facade falling away as her voice broke. âI couldnât wait until they were allowing visitors.â
âIâm fine,â he said, almost automatically. She pulled back to glare at him.
âYouâre not. Donât be stupid and act like you are.â
âOrlaithââ
âYouâre going to be mollycoddled and thatâs the end of it! Now, Iâve got tea and enough biscuits to rot your teeth, not to mention that ridiculous cheese soup you like. And I thought you might be bored, so I thought I could read to you,â she said, ducking to pull a handful of cheap novels from a large bowl sheâd covered with a towel. âTheyâre the worst ones I could find.â
She grinned at him, but it didnât quite hid the worry behind her eyes, the anxious curl of her shoulders. He just smiled, throat too tight to speak.
He let her bully him to bed so he could ârest properlyâ, didnât object when she insisted on rooting through his closet for softer blankets, complaining under her breath the whole time about his âwretchedly uncomfortableâ chambers and his complete lack of loungewear.
He didnât quite know why he had to blink back tears as she curled up next to him, her head on his uninjured shoulder, and dramatically read aloud from the trashiest of the novels sheâd brought, one hand holding the book as she rubbed his scalp with the other.
Or maybe he did, and couldnât bear to admit it to himself. It was safer not toâit would always be safer.
Alucard stepped back through the gate, eyes fixed on Rosalind, though her gaze was focused behind him, in the bit of her living room sheâd opened it up in. Gone were the torn pages and broken furniture, the little specks of blood.
It could still use more workâhe hadnât finished repairing all the furniture that had been damaged, but he was confident he could, or at least someone could.
âI thoughtâI thought perhaps a trip home might help,â he said, suddenly feeling nervous. What if heâd overstepped, going through her things? What if sheâd wanted to do it herself, or if it would merely bring back different wretched memories than the castle?
Rose was silent for a long time. She opened her mouth and then closed it, instead just turning to wrap her arms around his waist, face pressed to his chest.
âDoveââ he said, stomach lurching as he realized she was crying.
âThank you,â she stammered, hugging him tighter. âTh-thank you.â
âYou donât need to thank me.â
âIÂ do. Youâyouâre far too sweet to me.â
âHardly,â he said as he held her tight, resting his cheek on the top of her head. âIt was selfish, really. I just wanted to get a look at your book collection.â
She laughed at that, even if it was still a bit watery. She looked up at him, though, and smiled, despite the tears on her cheeks.
âItâs a really good one,â she said, and he smiled back at her, wiping the tears from her skin.
âI want to hear all about it,â he replied and she leaned into his touch, smiling even as another tear rolled down her cheek.
âOkay,â she said softly and pulled him towards the gate.
Colm started as the door the study slammed open once again, Valion looking no less livid for the time spent away.
âCome with me,â he nearly snarled, not looking at either of them.
âWhat? Where? Why should we?â RĂłisĂn asked, bristling. Valion didnât look at her.
âBecause it would hurt Elyra if I allowed you to be harmed,â he spat back.
âValionââ Colm began, but he just shook his head.
âYou canât go back to Seelie, not now. Riona will see you dead if she finds out that you told me a thing.â
RĂłisĂn stared at him, face going white. They hadnât stopped to consider the consequences, hadnât time toânot that heâd have changed a thing that heâd done.
Still, Valion was right. He doubted there would be a place for them in Seelie, so long as Riona ruled. He doubted there would be one in Unseelie, either.
âYou canât stay here, itâs too obvious. Soâso, youâll just have to come with me.â
Colm nodded, glancing over at RĂłisĂn. She was just staring in the middle distance, breath coming too fast. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. She hardly glanced at him, her lower lip trembling.
Still, she let him pull her along as they followed Valion, as he stomped outside and into the wood, calling forth a circle. Colm searched his face before stepping through, though Valion avoided his gaze, jaw tight, grinding his teeth.
They arrived just outside the Gloomveil, right at the edge of its trees. Colm couldnât help the way his eyes widenedâheâd heard the reports of the Eldertrees of the Gloomveil being cured of their blight, but he hadnât been able to picture it.
Valion, though, hardly noted them, focusing only on unweaving a riot of wards to reveal a little cobbled path.
âValion,â Colm began, but he simply ignored him, setting off down the path. He glanced at RĂłisĂn. He doubted it was a trap of some sort, not when he was rightâit would hurt Elyra if something happened to them, and Valion wouldnât hurt her, not on purpose.
He was quite sure that was the only thing that was making him hold his tongue, even a little. He was still so clearly furious, rage roiling off him in waves.
He couldnât quite blame him, just like he couldnât blame RĂłisĂn for her anger.
It was just all a mess. A horrible, awful mess.
Theyâd figure something out, thoughâhe knew they would, if only for Elyraâs sake.
He hoped she was alright, that she hadnât taken RĂłisĂnâs anger to heart, that Valion had talked her out of her unfounded guilt. Heâd hated seeing her in the hall, sobbing as she apologized for merely being born.
Even now it left a sick feeling in his throat, his chest constricted.
A strange little manor house came into view, made of grey fieldstone and choked with ivy. It was nothing like Valionâs houseâhis official house, nothing like any of the royal buildings in the Undercourt. The front garden was overgrown with flowers, the door painted a deep green.
Valion strode to it, undoing even more wards before holding open the door. He refused to look at either of them as they stepped inside, was clenching his teeth so hard Colm was worried heâd crack a molar.
Inside was an comfortable entranceway, the walls crammed with paintings, a few pairs of boots lined up haphazardly by the door. One pair was smaller than the others, had to be Elyraâsâ
This was Valionâs house, his real house, where he lived with his daughter. It was nothing like his official house, held none of the usual trappings of the Blackthorne family. It wasnât stately, wasnât meant to intimidate and alienateâ
âJustâjust stay here,â Valion said, opening his mouth to say more. He shut it, though, before he managed another word, glaring at the pair of them before turning on his heel and slamming the door behind him. He could feel another web of wards settle over the house, felt the oppressive silence in the wake of the crack of the door.
He turned to RĂłisĂn, unsure what to make of it all.
It was Valionâs home, his real home, the home he shared with his daughterâ
Had he shared it with Orlaith, too?
Elyra and Adrian lay curled in her childhood bed, even though it was far too narrow for the two of them. She couldnât find it in herself to mind, though.
She just stared around the room that had once been so familiar, at all the little trinkets her father had brought back for her on his travels, the framed embroideries her mother had made herâthe fox and its kits in a bed of flowers, the flock of butterflies resting on a tree branch, the hand-stitched prayer that had hung in her room since as long as she could remember.
Adrian stroked her hair, holding her close.
She still couldnât believe heâd fixed everything for her, done it in a single day, known that it would help, that she needed it.
Needed to be home for a little while. The home sheâd had the longest, the home sheâd grown up in. He'd known, somehow, even when she hadn't had a clue.
So much had changed in not quite a yearâor not quite a year in the Mortal Realm. She didnât know how long it had been, if you counted all the time in Faery, too.
She wasnât the same girl theyâd stolen away, not even close. She hadnât even the same face as sheâd left with. So much of it had been so very wretched, so much of it still wasâ
But not all of it. Not Adrian.
He was enough to balance out the wretchedness, the pain, every awful thing that had happened in the past year. She could bear it, with him. Not well, not this time, at least, but he helped the vice loosen around her chest, fended off the terror that never seemed to release her from its claws, anymore.
âI love you, she said softly, tightening her arm around his waist.
âI love you. So much,â he replied, pressing his lips to her forehead.
âIâIâm trying,â she said, voice barely a whisper. âI donât know why itâs so much harder, this timeââ
He shifted so he could face her, brows furrowed.
âItâs only been a few days, dove. Anyone would be frightened, be processing it all.â
She swallowed hard, averting her gaze, unable to look at him. Even if she knew, logically, that he was right, knew that sheâd say the same if roles had been reversed, somehow it didnât feel that way, still felt as though she had failed, withered pathetically under the stress.
Even after all Valion had done to try and ensure she didnât freeze, not again. It all amounted to nothing, in the face of another knife.
âDid your mother do the embroideries?â he asked, drawing her from her thoughts. She nodded.
âShe was quite talented. I donât know how the ratty flowers on that dressing gown ever reminded you of her work,â he said, and she couldnât help but laugh, despite herself.
âThat seems so long ago.â
âI hadnât even realized, yet, that my favorite person had stumbled into the castle.â
âIâm entirely sure you carried me,â she replied dryly, though she pressed closer to him, as close as she could manage.
âSemantics,â he said with a huff of laughter. âI think I like the foxes best.â
âThey were my favorite,â she said softly.
âI always liked wolves, when I was little. My mother made me a stuffed toy, when I was small. I dragged it all about the castle.â
She couldnât help but smile at the thought.
âYou must have been an adorable child.â
âI donât know about that.â
âIâm quite sure.â
âNot as adorable as you. I found at least a dozen portraits I can prove it with.â
She felt herself blush. âFather had me sit for one almost every year.â
âWe should have the children sit for a portrait.â
âThat would be nice. I donât think I could convince Valion to paint it, though.â
âHe did refer to them as a zoo.â
âI doubt he even talked to them. Heâd like them, if he only gave them a chance. Surely, heâd like Mihai and Andrei and Mariaâtheyâre quiet and they like their studies. AdelinaâAdelina might give him grey hairs, though I could say the same for us.â
Adrian laughed out loud at that.
âSheâs certainly trying. She really is sweet, though.â
âThey all are. My parents would have loved them. Theyâd have had to adjust to the chaos, though I doubt theyâd have minded.â
âI wonder what my mother would have said,â Adrian said, eyes far off. âI think she might think me a bit mad. She only ever wanted one child.â
âWell, we hardly had much choice in it,â she said, tone joking, though she meant it. She knew neither of them could have left the children to the village to sort out.
âNo choice at all,â he said, carefully weaving their fingers together so as not to pull her stitches. âWeâll have to make sure little baby Belmont doesnât corrupt them.â
She couldnât help but laugh, clapping her hand over her mouth. He grinned at her, clearly proud of himself.
âJust pray they take after Sypha. I donât know that I could handle another Trevor.â
âWe might have to move,â he said in mock seriousness.
âMove from your own house?â she said, trying to suppress her smile. He nodded.
âOh yes, I do think the situation could be dire enough to warrant it.â
She just giggled at that, shaking her head. He pressed his lips to her temple, though she could feel him smiling.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of him next to her, the sound of his heart, his breath, the familiar sounds of the city, outside.
It was almost enough to make her feel safe.
Colm wasnât sure if there was a single room heâd seen so far that didnât hold at least one portrait of Orlaith. She was everywhere, in the house, a constant presence, her likeness rendered with such clear adoration. His heart ached in his chest, throat constrictedâ
Sheâd been loved, so loved, in the time theyâd been lucky enough to have with her.
He was surprised that there werenât as many portraits of Elyraâthe only one heâd found so far was the small one that had sat on Valionâs desk of her when sheâd just been a small child, maybe four or five.
It struck him as odd, considering how much he knew Valion loved her.
âRĂłisĂn,â he called, realizing that she was no longer in the study with him.
âUp here,â she called, voice tight. He climbed the stairs, pausing as he spotted a door, slightly ajar, a door painted with all manner of flowers, a name painted over them in elegant script.
Elyra.
He hesitated before he stepped inside, throat impossibly constricted as he looked about the room. There were more flowers painted on the walls, bookcases overflowing with volumes. There were more books piled on the little end tables by the velvet couches along with piles of notes, strange little trinkets set about the room, some from Faery, some from the Mortal Realm.
He slowly stepped towards the door at the far end of the little parlor, golden light seeping out. There he found RĂłisĂn, found her tearing down the canopy hangings from the bed, found a pile of bedding at her feet.
It was all covered in bloodâthe sheets, the rug, the comforter. He saw it on the walls, too, and the ceiling. There was so much of itâ
How much had been Elyraâs?
He fought the urge to be sick.
ââdidnât even bother to clean any of it. How could he just leave it like thisâwhat if she came home?â RĂłisĂn snarled under her breath, focusing her fury on the remnants of the attack.
âRĂłisĂn?â
âOhâlook at how wretched heâs left it! Itâs like he never learned to clean in that miserable palaceâwe know he never learned sense there, or decency,â she spat, though her hands shook as she glared at the destruction.
âRĂłis,â he said softly, chest aching.
âItâll take a miracle to get out the stains now. Heâs left it days and days. The baseboards will have to be repainted, and the ceilingââ
âRĂłis,â he said, louder this time as he reached out to take her hand, pry the stained bedding from it. She finally turned to face him, tears streaking down her face.
âOh, darling,â he said, drawing her into a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, a sob tearing from her lips.
âItâll be okay. I promise,â he said, his own voice breaking.
âShe must have been so frightened,â she sobbed, knotting her hands in the back of his shirt. âItâs allâitâs so much worse than Iâd thought.â
âSheâs a brave girlââ
âShe shouldnât have to be! Dawnâs lightâif Iâd only found the right argument, the right words, this would have neverââ
âYou tried,â Colm said, hugging her tighter. âI know you tried your best.â
âThis is all it amounts to,â she cried, gesturing to the blood, the ruined bedding. âI couldnât even stop it when I tried.â
âRĂłisĂn, darling, itâs notââ
âI wouldnât have known, if you hadnât told me. Just like OrlaithâIâd have lost her, and Iâd never have known. What sort of mother doesnât know? I should have known, should have felt itââ
âEven if you had, youâd never have believed it,â he said softly. âWe never wanted to believe it, couldnât.â
âHeâhe let us hope, all those years,â she said, breaking off as she buried her face in her hands. âI keptâI kept waiting for her to come home.â
âI know,â he said, voice raw. Heâd done the same, despite logic, despite all reason. RĂłisĂn let out a sigh, dropping her head in her hands.Â
âOrlaith would be furious with me,â RĂłisĂn said, sounding so utterly defeated. "She'd have been so mad."
âShe would,â he replied, pressing his lips together. Orlaith had always had a temper, like her mother. They hadnât fought often, but it was awful when they did. Heâd always just tried to play peacemaker, though heâd rarely been successful once they got going. He had no doubt Orlaith would have been incandescent with rage that Elyra had been harmed, that it had been her great aunt who had done it, that RĂłisĂn had made her daughter cry on top of it, rubbed salt in an already horrific day. He doubted she'd be please with the way she'd spoken to Valion either, though he doubted that would eclipse her anger over her daughter. Valion could hold his own, after all.
âElyra must think me a monster,â she said, voice hardly more than a breath.
âShe doesnât,â he said, stroking her hair. âSheâs too sweet.â
âIâI didnât even say anything to her. I was so angry I didnâtâI didnât say a thing to her,â she said, covering her mouth with her hand as if she meant to muffle her sobs.
âI hate him,â she cried, words twisted by her grief. âI hate him so much. I want to hate himâI want him to be completely wretched.â
âI know,â he said. It would be easier, that way, easier to simply have someone to blame, someone with clear fault, someone dastardly and malicious and awful.
It was impossible to think that, though, in this house, impossible not to see how Valion had so clearly loved their daughter, see the pieces of her scattered around the house, see her woven into every room. And he loved Elyra, however many mistakes heâd madeâhe so clearly loved her, tried to do right by her.
âWeâwe should get this cleaned up, properly. Soâso she doesnât have to see it this way. I donâtâI donât want her to have to remember,â RĂłisĂn said, angrily wiping away her tears.
âOf course,â he said, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear, out of her face as he searched her expression. RĂłisĂn nodded, almost to herself, before getting up and grabbing most of the pile of linens. She set off without another word, shoulders squared, though he could still hear her sniffling.
He waited a moment before he gathered the rest, swallowing hard as he looked about the room. It had been a lovely room, before the horror.
He took a deep breath before he followed RĂłisĂn back downstairs.
Elyra watched Valion meticulously clip each stitch and removed the thread, glowing at the fresh scars beneath. She hadn't expected him to return so quicklyâit had only been a week since she'd seen him last.
âIâI thought you wanted me to return to the healers,â she said, furrowing her brow. âYou saidââ
âI donât want you in the city, not now.â
âWhy? Whatâs happened?â
âI just donât,â he said, voice sharper than usual. She frowned.
âIs it because of what your parents said? Are they still trying to force us to moveâ?â
âI have it handled, Moonbeam. You neednât worry.â
âBut I want to know!â
Valion didnât respond, only kept removing stitches.
âDadââ
âI donât want to argue. All you need to focus on right now is healing. Move your hand for me?â
She did as he asked, shooting him a dirty look, which he ignored.
âHow does it feel?â he asked.
âSore.â
âYouâll have to massage this into the scars at night, so they donât stiffen,â he said, reaching into his pocket to grab a small jar, which he set on the table next to her. âYou only need a little.â
She nodded, dropping her gaze to her hands, to the fresh scars that covered them.
She was so tired of getting new scars.
âThey shouldnât be very noticeable, once they heal fully,â he said, almost as if he could read her mind. âTheyâre healing well.â
âI wish I could make them all go away,â she said dully, eyes flicking to the older scars that Vranos had given her on her arms.
âI wish I could take them from you. You never should have suffered any of them,â he said, voice tight. âIâm sorry, Elyra.â
âThey arenât your fault,â she said, heart twisting painfully in her chest at his expression. He just shook his head, unable to meet her gaze.
âI have to get going,â he said quietly. He hugged her, holding her close, one hand cradling the back of her head as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. He held on too long, as if he couldnât bear to let go.
âI love you, Moonbeam. More than anything, more than I thought myself capable of. I need you to know how very much I love you.â
âDadâ?â she asked, stomach flipping as she pulled back, trying to get a look at his face. Something was wrong, was so very wrong, and she didnât know what to do, how to fix itâwhat needed fixing.
She only knew that the way he was looking at her frightened her, for entirely different reasons than sheâd grown used to being frightened.
âBe careful, sweetling. You must be delicate with yourself as you heal,â he said, reaching out to cup her cheek, eyes trained on her face as if he were trying to memorize it.
âWhere are you going?â she asked, grabbing his wrist as he dropped his hand. He slipped out of her hold easily and turned away, striding to the door.
âIâll be back soon to check on you. Perhaps a week, here.â
âDadââ
He slipped out without replying. She just stared after him for a long moment, heart beating too fast as she tried to make some sense of it all. She took a shaking breath, trying to blink away the pricking feeling behind her eyes.
She hesitated another moment before crossing to the door herself, even though she knew she wouldnât be able to catch up with him. Instead she set off in search of Adrian, hoping he might be able to help her make sense of it all.
Valion watched the column of Unseelie soldiers descend the ridge, all clad in glimmering black armor. It was less numbers than heâd wanted, though Lennoxâs troops would be meeting them at the border.
Still, he worried it wouldnât be enough to take Ghrian, not without holding the city to siege, which he loathed. Though he knew, this way, heâd force his fatherâs hand, force him to reenforce their numbers.
Force him to do something to protect his grandchild, rather than just talk his way in circles.
He was done with his fatherâs tired diplomacy, done with playing the game of Court politics, done suffering its abuse in silence. Elyra would never suffer as he had, never learn to endure it, never have to.
He smelt ash on the wind, as if it knew his intentions, knew what would come from his daughter's spilt blood.Â
Took me years to understand that boredom is not the enemy of writing. It is the raw material. Every good idea i have ever had arrived during a walk with no podcast, a train with no phone, a shower where i just stood there. The moment i fill every silence with content i stop generating anything of my own. I am just processing other people's thoughts instead of having mine. The empty space is where the work comes from. Protecting the empty space is the actual job.
Writers have two modes and they are "i haven't written in three weeks and i am rotting from the inside and everything feels wrong and i don't know who i am anymore" and "i wrote for four hours straight and forgot to eat and it's dark outside and when did that happen and i feel like a god" and there is nothing in between. no chill. no medium setting. just famine or feast and a very confused nervous system.
I genuinely cannot explain to a non-writer what it feels like when a chapter suddenly clicks. it's not satisfaction. it's not relief. it's this horrible specific feeling like you just remembered something you never knew. like the story was already there and you finally stopped being in the way of it. i don't know what to do with that feeling. i just close the laptop and stare at the wall for a bit.
