Behold, the woman whose vagina gave birth to the first of the Necromatic Dregwood family line. Tylla married Cederic Dregwood (Whose name had orgianlly been DREDGE-WOOD because he had been a wood carver who made furinture and such from dredge wood found in the lake) He met her in a tree, they got married, and had seven kids-until Cedric left and never came home.
Witches also age a bit funny, twenty years to us is about 10 or so to them, so even though she still has 7 kids, her age doesn't show past fourty-fifty. When the Last Witching School was destroyed, she was one of the few student survivors. She's also rather short and wears speacil magical bird feet that allow her to perch in trees-but give her an inch or two extra in height. She protects and keeps a number of wild birds, both exotic and native. (She's like Leonardo Davinci minus the gay-she buys a bunch of birds at the market just to let them go and watch them fly away.)
(I absolutely call Commander Holly as Tylla's voice claim.)
The long hallway that led to a grand chamber was bathed in the golden light of a mid-day sun. In its warm light, portraits of men and their families hung in elegant style, framed in silver and emerald embellishments. Somehow, they always looked so unhappy. Forced to sit for hours in front of a man who would paint their likeness so generations past would know of their ancestors and on it went until they reached the doors of this grand chamber and all that hung before the door was an empty frame.
The one before it had two young children, their mother and father: Kaivaerian Nilhandril, his wife Rivaria Nilhandril and their two beloved sons: Varaelian Hilstrastian Nilhandril and Vanrael Lanostrian Nilhandril. It was before their portrait he stood, looking to faces that had long since changed. Death had either taken them or they had become only ghosts of what they had desired to become.
It wasn’t in Kaivaerian’s face that Varaelian found any sort of comfort for he was naught but a stranger in his life—this man who he had taken on as a father, looked back at him as if he would come to life and tell him of his disappointment.
“I find you here nearly every afternoon, love.” Kirian approached his husband, placing a hand at his shoulder, “What has you so entranced?”
“I cannot help but feel guilty.” The lord looked to Kirian’s warm smile, sighing heavily, “I could have stopped his death yet all I did was take his place.” Varaelian’s words were heavy as he looked again to the painting, looking into the two blue eyes of the child he had replaced, “I have lied for so many years that I even began to forget my own name in this happiness. I have a happiness that is based on the death of a man that probably deserved it and the lies that put me in this position. I cannot carry on a line nor make his house any more whole than it was before…”
“If you try to fix everything, you’ll find that not everything is broken, Van. Even with what you are, you cannot see everything, perhaps this was what you were meant to do. In my time with your kind, not every path was clear to their eyes or mind. They could never look into every possible outcome and predict exactly what would happen.” Kirian mused, taking Van’s hand, “Whatever came of your life then, brought you to me now.”
A smile came to his face easily at these words, “Tevruden says I should stop thinking about it so much, whatever punishment lies ahead of me in wake of the truth is better than fretting about it for the rest of my days.”
“You know that none of us think little of you for any of this, right?” His hands brushed through his husbands hair lovingly, brushing soft blond strands from his shoulders and face, “Tylla, Tevruden, Feiyn, myself—Have you told Elleynah?”
“No. You lot are the only ones who know.”
“I’m sure she’ll be surprised.”
“Assuming she doesn’t pass out from shock, yeah, I imagine it’ll be amusing to see her face.”
“Come now, don’t scare her.”
“If I can’t scare an 8 year old, I think Elley can handle this truth.” Van grinned from ear to ear, remembering the look on his daughter’s face. Never had he seen her so happy or full of wonder. It had only been a few months since he took her in, but she called him “the best present ever.” “I figured she’d scream.”
“I think she wanted a ride more than anything. What else would she do if a mythical creature from her picture books showed up in her house?”
“I don’t know what I expected, really. I assumed she’d scream and run away.”
“Tylla? Scream and run away? Tevruden put a sword in her hand and Feiyn a rifle and all she wanted to do was play with them. I can’t even get her to sit still for me to bandage her knees when she scrapes them.” Kirian laughed, hooking his arm around Varaelian’s and leading them away from the painting, “She is doing very well with her sword and glaives. She could be a proper spellbreaker someday, Van. Do you see that?”
“I prefer not to look. Let her future, our future, be a mystery—it makes it more worthwhile.”
Because I saw this picture and suddenly really wanted to post a Tysella fic. This was written before BoO came out, so excuse any non-canonical details.
Read on ff.net here.
Tyson watched Ella, who was preening her feathers in amazement. "Ella's feathers are not wet," she told him.
"Ella's feathers are not wet," he confirmed with a grin. "It is special fish-man magic. Magic air lets you breathe here and makes your feathers not wet."
Ella frowned at herself. "Magic?" she asked. "What sort of magic? No books about fish-man magic air, nope nope nope."
Tyson shrugged. "Tyson doesn't know," he said apologetically. "Fish-men didn't say."
Ella bobbed her head in a nod, and then caught sight of the sword Tyson had forged that morning. "Tyson made that?" she asked.
He brightened. "Yes," he said. "Tyson makes lots of swords for his dad. Want to see?" He showed her the microscopic hammer marks he had made to shape the blade.
Ella bobbed her head some more. "Double-bladed longsword, simple hilt, crafted from Celestial bronze, yup yup yup. Tyson made a good sword. Tyson makes other kinds of swords too? How does Tyson forge? Ella has only read six books on forging, yup yup yup. Has Tyson read lots of books on forging?"
Tyson reddened. "I . . . Tyson does not read very much."
Ella stared at him. "Tyson does not like to read?" She said it like she couldn't imagine the possibility.
He looked down. "It is not that," he mumbled. "Tyson . . . Tyson cannot read very well."
For the first time since entering Poseidon's palace, Ella didn't ask a single question. In fact, she was quiet for so long that Tyson decided she was mad at him. No, that wasn't right. She was . . . disappointed in him. Maybe ashamed of him too. Tyson hung his head. "Tyson is sorry," he said. "For not being as smart as Ella."
To his surprise, Tyson felt Ella's feathers brush his shoulders. "Tyson is just as smart as Ella," she said firmly. "Tyson can make swords and lead Cyclops armies and help his brother win wars and protect Ella from Vancouver to New York. Tyson is very smart." When Tyson finally glanced up at her, he was shocked to see that she was smiling. Even after being free from Phineas for an entire year, she was still high-strung and anxious. Smiles were rare gifts, so when Tyson saw one on Ella's face, he couldn't help but beam back at her, even if he didn't understand why she was happy.
"Ella . . . Ella is not sad that Tyson does not read?"
Ella shook her head vigorously. "Not Tyson's fault," she insisted. "No good teacher, nope nope nope."
Slowly, Tyson began to understand why she looked excited. "Do you know a good teacher?"
Ella's smile widened.
Tyson threw the book on the ground. "Too hard!" he exclaimed. "Tyson cannot understand." He felt like he was about to cry—which would be really embarrassing in front of Ella.
Ella looked almost as upset as he was. "Not a good teacher after all?" she asked worriedly. "Ella is sorry, Ella is sorry, yup yup yup."
Immediately, Tyson felt terrible for losing his temper. "Ella is a good teacher," he promised. "Tyson is just stupid."
"No, no, no, Tyson is not stupid!" Ella said indignantly. "Cheese is stupid. Curses are stupid. Phineas and weed-whackers are stupid. Tyson is smart."
He crossed his arms. "If Tyson was smart, Tyson would be able to read," he said.
"Tyson will read," Ella argued. "Almost there."
He frowned in disbelief. "I was almost there?"
She bobbed her head up and down. "So close," she said. "Tyson is close. Try again. 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.'"
Tyson sighed, but he couldn't say no to Ella's hopeful brown eyes. He picked up the book. "T . . . The . . . kuh-ah-tuh—cat . . . The cat . . ."
Reading was so hard. Even Sally hadn't been able to teach him without Tyson getting frustrated and giving up. But with Ella standing next to him, ruffling her feathers proudly and smiling whenever he got through a sentence . . . Well, learning to read almost seemed worth it.
"Annabeth!"
She whirled around in her swivel chair. "Tyson?" she said in surprise. "Why are you IM-ing me? We don't need to start planning Percy's birthday surprise for another week—oh gods, has something happened to Percy?"
She was halfway through strapping on her armor by the time Tyson could reassure her that Percy was fine and would be back at camp by that night. He had been visiting Poseidon and Tyson along with Ella for a few days, but it was the Fourth of July tomorrow, and Annabeth had warned him that if he missed the last camp fireworks before they both turned eighteen, she would not be pleased. She didn't tell him it was because she didn't like letting him out of her sight for more than a few hours, even though it had been a year and a half since he'd disappeared because of Hera's idiotic (if effective) exchange. After everything that they had been through, it was understandable that she was paranoid about his safety.
"Percy is safe," Tyson repeated, just to make sure Annabeth got the message. "But I need your help."
"With what?"
"Ella has a question," Tyson explained, "but she is pretty. I mean shy." He flushed.
Annabeth had to hold back a laugh. "All right, Tyson," she said. "What's Ella's question?"
She saw him squint at something out of the picture. "She was . . . reading . . . a book . . . on . . . p-h-y-s-i-c-s? Annabeth, what does p-h-y-s-i-c-s spell?"
"Physics," she said automatically. Then her mouth dropped open. "Tyson, did you . . . did you just read that?"
A gleam of pride shone in his eye. "Too many big words in the question," he said. "Tyson couldn't remember, so Ella wrote the question. Then Tyson read it." He grinned. "Ella taught Tyson."
Annabeth couldn't believe her ears. Every one of Athena's children—Annabeth included—had tried to teach Tyson to read and failed. Ella had done the impossible.
"Annabeth?"
She snapped back into focus and smiled at Tyson. It was good to see the big guy so pleased with his accomplishment. She knew he had felt silly, not being able to read. "Yeah, Tyson?"
"Ella still has a question."
This time, Annabeth couldn't help but laugh. "You're right," she managed. "Sorry, Tyson, I'm listening now. Go ahead and read away."
"Ella, what is this word?"
She glanced over Tyson's shoulder. "Spectacular."
"What does that mean?"
"Merriam-Webster Dictionary: 'Spectacular: adjective. Of, relating to, or being a spectacle; causing wonder and admiration; very impressive.'"
"Thank you, Ella," Tyson said seriously, returning to the book Ella had lent him. (That was a sign right there that she cared about him; Ella didn't let just anyone touch her books.) He frowned at the pages, obviously thinking, before looking back up at her. "Ella is spectacular, then?"
Ella blushed as red as her feathers. Only Tyson could give such a sweet compliment so genuinely. He probably didn't even realize it was a compliment; he was just saying his thoughts out loud. "You think Ella is spectacular?"
He nodded. "I think so." He nodded more forcefully. "Yes. Ella is very impressive and causes wonder and admiration, so she must be spectacular."
If it was possible, Ella reddened even more. "Then Tyson is spectacular too."
Tyson stopped nodding and frowned. "Me?" he asked, as if she knew some other Tyson.
Ella smiled. "Yup, yup, yup," she said. "Tyson is very impressive and causes wonder and admiration too."
Tyson looked at Ella carefully like he wasn't sure her brain was working correctly. "Tyson is spectacular?" he repeated in confusion.
On an impulse, Ella leaned forward and pecked Tyson on the cheek. Then he turned red too. "Tyson is spectacular to Ella."
After getting back from Poseidon's palace, Tyson and Ella decided to stay at Camp Half-Blood for a while. Ella spent nearly all of her time away from Tyson in Cabin Six, swapping knowledge with the children of Athena (she'd been nervous to be around so many demigods at first, but once Malcolm had struck up a conversation about the Civil War, Ella had warmed up to them quickly), and Tyson traded tips with the Hephaestus campers, especially Leo. Even after a year, Tyson still considered him to be "small and funny", and Leo didn't mind the company in Bunker Nine. (Sure, the Argo II was complete, but Leo could always find other projects.) Well, he didn't mind most of the time.
"What is Leo doing now?" Tyson asked.
Leo explained that he was adjusting the control panel in Harley's automaton lizard because it had started malfunctioning after a couple months—not that he would tell Harley that. The kid was very proud of his first automaton. "So don't you dare breathe a word of this to him," Leo threatened. "Harley thinks I have it so I can play a prank on Rachel Dare." He shrugged. "Of course, I am going to use this to play a prank on Rachel Dare, but I have to fix it first."
Tyson frowned. "Rachel is scary."
Leo laughed. "Yeah, she kinda is," he admitted, "but not as scary as Annabeth. So I'll take my chances."
After that, Tyson stayed quiet for about ten seconds. Then, "Is Leo sure he is fixing the small dragon right?"
Leo snorted when Tyson said "small dragon". "I know what I'm doing, big guy."
"Then why are you putting that wire there? The eyes connect there." He pointed with one massive finger.
A proud grin crossed Leo's face. "Sure, that's where the eyes would connect," he said, "if I was making a conventional automaton. But I'm testing out a few theories with this one. Harley is going to have the coolest metal lizard in the U.S."
Of course, that just peaked Tyson's curiosity. Leo answered question after question about his new methods. He was patient at first, but by the thirtieth query, he had had enough. "All right, that's it!" he announced. "Questions are over, or I'll never finish this before dinner, and then Harley will get suspicious."
Tyson apologized. "Tyson didn't mean to bother the small, funny mechanic," he said. "Tyson was just curious."
"'Just curious'?" Leo chuckled. He couldn't be annoyed with the Cyclops for very long—nobody could. "You're as bad as Ella. She was in here the other day too, pestering me for hours. You guys have more questions than anyone at camp. No wonder you're dating."
To Leo's surprise, Tyson reddened at his words. "Um, no," he said. "We are . . . just friends."
At that, Leo burst out laughing. "'Just curious', 'just friends'," he mimicked. "I don't think so. You think she's pretty, she thinks you're safe and strong, and you guys spend almost all of your time together. I'm pretty sure you're dating."
Tyson flushed even darker. Leo just grinned and got back to work.
That night, Tyson went to see Ella. She was perched in the stables, where she slept most nights. Usually he was happy to see her, but tonight he was nervous. Leo's words swirled around in his head.
"Ella?"
She lifted her head from under her wing. When she saw him, she smiled, and Tyson's heart thumped. "Tyson!" she exclaimed. "Tyson is here! Why is Tyson here?"
Tyson gulped, but it wasn't in his nature to avoid what was on his mind. "I talked to Leo today," he blurted.
Ella cocked her head at him. "Leo," she said. "Leo III, emperor of Byzantium, outlawed the use of icons. Leo, or lion, is the horoscope for people born from July 23-August 22. Merriam-Webster Dictionary: 'Horoscope: noun. A diagram of the relative positions of planets and signs of the zodiac at a specific time, as at one's birth, for use by astrologers in inferring individual character and personality traits and in foretelling events of a person's life'." She shook her head, as if getting back on track. "Why does Tyson mention Leo?"
Tyson hesitated. "Leo said . . . Leo said Ella and Tyson were dating," he said in a rush. He turned red. "Are Ella and Tyson dating?"
To his surprise, Ella didn't topple off her perch or laugh or quote some obscure piece of literature. Instead, she got very quiet. "Does Tyson think Ella and Tyson are dating?" she asked softly.
He shrugged miserably. "I do not know," he admitted. "I do not think so."
Ella stared at him. Tyson thought she looked upset. Uh oh, now he'd made her sad. "Why doesn't Tyson think so?" she asked.
He hung his head. "Because Ella is pretty and smart," he mumbled, "and Tyson is clumsy and stupid."
At that, Ella squawked indignantly and flew down to him, hovering to stay level with his eye. "Nope, nope, nope, Tyson is not clumsy and stupid!" she protested. "Tyson is strong and good at building things! And Tyson can read! Not stupid, nope." She frowned at him. "But Ella is small and shy."
"Ella is pretty and smart!"
"Tyson is strong and funny!"
"Ella is spectacular!"
"Tyson is spectacular!" Then, before he could respond, Ella flew forward and kissed him. Tyson's eye widened. When she flapped backwards, he looked dumbfounded.
"Ella . . . Ella likes Tyson?"
Ella landed and picked at her feathers nervously. "'Books are the quietest and most constant of friends.' Charles William Eliot. 'The love of books is a love which requires neither justification, apology, nor defense.' J.A. Langford. Ella loved books more than anything, until she met Tyson."
She took a deep breath and continued. "'She had looked for his coming as warriors come, with the clash of arms and the bugle's call; but he came instead with a stealthy tread, which she did not hear at all. She had thought how his armor would blaze in the sun, as he rode like a prince to claim his bride: In the sweet dim light of the falling night she found him at her side. She had dreamed how the gaze of his strange, bold eye would wake her heart to a sudden glow: She found in his face the familiar grace of a friend she used to know. She had dreamed how his coming would stir her soul, as the ocean is stirred by the wild storm's strife: He brought her the balm of a heavenly calm, and a peace which crowned her life.' 'Love's Coming' by Ella Wheeler Wilcox."
Tyson just looked at her. "Does that mean Ella likes Tyson?"
Ella chittered with nervous laughter. "Ella likes Tyson," she confirmed.
Immediately, Tyson picked her up and spun her around (but gently, so he wouldn't damage her wings). Ella loved to fly, but in that moment, she enjoyed being twirled by Tyson much more. "Tyson likes Ella too!" he announced. "Tyson likes Ella better than peanut butter!" He gave her a hug and then set her down, suddenly looking shy. "Then are Ella and Tyson dating?"
Ella laughed again. "Ella and Tyson are dating," she promised. At her answer, Tyson beamed at her and spun her around again, making Ella smile too.
Some time had passed and spending his days cooped up in an office and tending to medical needs along the Dawnspire and into the Retreat weren’t exactly keeping his mind off of anything, and Sundial was as silent as they had hoped. The prospects of rebuilding had lead to prosperous times, but that only meant walks along the roads and time spent dealing with the Harbormaster..
“Hey. HEY!” A tiny voice called, clearly annoyed by having to raise her voice in the first place to get Varaelian to stop staring idly off in the distance, “Are all lords like you?”
“What? What are you even doing in here? Shouldn’t you be .. I don’t know, stealing from someone else?” Van dropped his hand, staring at the child who wrinkled her brows, the strawberry-red curls around her head bouncing and framing her puffed cheeks.
“Why?! So I can end up back in here?! Besides, you said it was okay! Make up your mind!”
“You’re the most demanding wharfrat I’ve ever seen, you know that, don’t you?”
“I take pride in it.” She beamed gleefully. Her eyes travelled down to the pages on the desk in front of her, “You’re doodling? You like to doodle? That looks important. When is Miss Eyline coming? She is nicer than you.” The little wharfrat sat back on the plush seat, folding her arms across her chest, “You don’t say much, do you?”
“Not much really to say.” Van collected the pages along his desk and slid them into a drawer before standing, “Do you have a name or should I keep calling you wharfrat?”
“No. I don’t really remember. Those men kept calling me that, but I don’t like it.” She said idly as she tugged at the curls near her face, “Miss Eyline calls me Gingy.”
“The Dawnward can be humorous, I’ll give her that.” He chuckled, “Come. I have an appointment I have to meet, and stop picking at your nose, Light’s sake, that’s disgusting.” He groaned, “Are all children like you or are you some sort of special case?”
“Excuse you!” She stood up, standing no higher than his waist, “You are so rude!”
“And you’re gross so now we’re even!” He shouted back, making a face that caused her to laugh, “Come along now. We have business to attend to. Keep in mind that, under no circumstances, do you admit to being a thief. I am sure Lord Truefeather won’t take kindly to the notion of a child thief.”
“So.. what do I say?”
“Smile, curtsey as I have taught you, and introduce yourself.”
“As what?” She frowned, “They just call me Wharfrat..”
“Tylla. Your name is Tylla Nilhandril. W-We’ll figure out details later, alright?” He offered out his hand, the silver ring on it shining from the light coming through the window behind him.
“Tylla? You couldn’t have come up with something more interesting? I could be Lady Sunviel!”
Van lofted his brows, almost amused at her enthusiastic display, “Tylla is special. I’ll tell you along the way. We’re going to be late and I’d rather not be yelled at for it.”
Tylla smiled and took his hand, "No more Wharfrat?"
