Elacs Stories (Medieval)

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So, the province of Elacs is finally getting some fics/characters/all that! Since I know I have at least a few plot-lines planned with various people, I figured I might as well make a central story thread for the corresponding fics. =D I'll have a central index in this post, arranged chronologically within the fic (e.g., fic that takes place in 1300 would precede a fic from 1320). Then the individual stories will posted in fresh replies to get things organized. \o/ Hooray!

Central Index
A Snake out of Water (1275)
The Warden of Serpents (1301)
Slippery (1362)
A Scaly Rite (Autumn 1377)
Puppy Love (1379)
In a Flash (Spring 1381)

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Collab with Gelquie! Takes place in October of 1377 - featuring canon Lord Melvin's great-great-grandson and his family, including his wife - Muriel and Gerard Alaric's youngest daughter, Marisa. 8D

A Scaly Rite

SPOILER: Click to show

“So I can have any one that I want?” the small boy asked warily, his hazel eyes narrowed as as he surveyed the wall of glass-fronted cages in front of him. “No matter how much it costs?”

“Cost isn’t an issue,” replied the man at his heel, a soft smile between his lips. They resembled each other little-- the boy tan where the man the was pale, his hair and eyes dark where the man’s were light-- but from the twinkle in his eye as he watched the child, anyone could have guessed their relationship. His father continued smoothly, “But no, George, I’ve already told you several times-- not any one that you want. Mum and I have to approve of the species first.”

The child nodded, his glossy black curls bouncing as he did, and took a hesitant step toward the habitats ahead. Each varied in size-- some small as bread-boxes, others bigger than he was-- and was eclectic in content, George silent as he studied the rainbow array of snakes that slithered and basked behind the magelocked sheets of glass. Their species ranged from common garter snakes like you might find in the bustling marketplace outside, to rare and eclectic ilks imported from far-off lands the child had only heard about in storybooks and lessons. He pursed his lips as he watched an emerald tree boa, almost uniformly fluorescent green but for the milky, lightning-shaped stripes that stippled it here and there, twist around a branch that had been propped up in its cage.

“What about that one, Papa?” George asked after a moment, pointing.

His father laughed. “A little ambitious, Georgie,” he said. “Something smaller, please. If it’s longer than you are, you’re going to have to reconsider.”

“Alright.” George flicked his gaze from the emerald tree boa’s vivarium to the one at its left, which held a basking ball python. “That one’s pretty, too, I guess. I don’t know how to pick.”

“Aye, well, take your time,” said his father. “It is your birthday gift, after all.” George had recently turned eight. “And you’ve earned it-- you’ve been working hard in your lessons, haven’t you, Georgie? Not to mention, you’re a lord of House Ophid. Every lord of House Ophid ought to have his own pet snake, I think.” His father would know; as the eldest son of the province’s reigning lord, and thus the heir to Elacs, Benjamin Ophid had no small collection of his own personal pets, their impeccably maintained habitats spread about the family’s living quarters as another might decorate with paintings or flowers.

Still smiling, Ben looked to his wife and George’s mother, who stood at his side. She resembled the child in every way that he didn’t: black hair upon a bronze complexion, eyes like dark honey, a spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Unlike him, however, her gaze was not trained on George, but rather at a massive vivarium set against the perpendicular wall, which held a fat, coiled Courdonian bog python that was as big as George and both of his parents put together.

“Risa.” Ben smirked. “You know we’re here to get him a pet, not you, right?” Playfully, he reached out and slung his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. “And I think she’d eat you, anyway. We hardly need a repeat of my grandfather’s grandfather.”

The woman let out a laugh. “Oh, I know, but I can dream, can’t I?” she retorted, smiling at her husband. “Besides, Georgie may be a while.” She cast her gaze down at her son, who was staring at the snakes before him. “I’m excited for him, kind of like when I got my first snake. I can’t believe it was so long ago… I still get excited like this.”

“You were like a child on Woomas,” he agreed. When Benjamin’s father had told him ten years ago that he was to marry Marisa, he hadn’t know what to expect of her. Many wives married to House Ophid struggled to adjust to the snakes; even Ben’s own mother had never done more than grow to grudgingly tolerate them. And that Marisa was Courdonian, a princess at that, had further compounded young Ben’s fears. But she’d quickly trampled over any anxieties he’d once held. She was adventurous almost to a fault, with a quick wit and even quicker tongue, and by Woo, sometimes he was convinced she liked the House’s scaly charges even more than he did. “And try for less dangerous dreams, Risa,” the heir to Elacs added ruefully. “Ones that won’t gobble you up.”

Beside him, Marisa grinned before pausing as she realized which snake George was looking at. “Ah… Not that one, Georgie.”

Ben followed his wife’s-- and son’s-- gaze, and instantly sighed. “Georgie, tell me. What is it that you’re looking at?”

“A diamondback,” he said quickly.

“Aye,” Ben agreed. “And do you think Mum and I are going to let you get a diamondback? No, let me rephrase that: do we have a single dangerous species anywhere in our private quarters?”

“No,” George said. “He’s got pretty markings, though.”

“Try again, Georgie,” Ben instructed. “And please, don’t make me regret not merely giving you a small corn snake from the vivarium wing.” It was a rite of passage for young Ophid children to pick out their first personal pet from outside the family’s existing collection-- a new addition for the family’s new(ish) addition-- but Ben was quite starting to think that they’d be in this stuffy shop all day. “Georgie,” he said, “just remember, if it’s bigger than you, you’re not getting it. If it’s venomous, you’re not getting it. If it’s an aggressive species, you’re not getting it. Narrow your horizons, please.”

“Maybe we should try another store,” George said, frowning as he gave the dizzying collection of vivariums yet another visual rake.

“Georgie, this is a good store,” Marisa said. “You’re not going to get much more than from this store, so you may as well pick from here. Just pick something common and tame. You have a lot of good choices, really.”

She glanced around before pointing at a vivarium. “How about one of those milk snakes? They’re good starter pets, and look at those colors.”

“Those are boring,” George said. “Even Josie would be bored with one.” This was his five-year-old sister, who’d been left back at the castle with her nursemaid. “What about that one?” He nudged his chin toward a neonate Tengizan rainbow boa, its gorgeous scales iridescent against the sunlight that streamed into the shop.

“Absolutely not.” Ben raked a frustrated hand through his auburn hair. “Those are nippy. Show snakes, not suitable for handling by someone your age.”

“Why’re you even letting me pick if you’re just going to say ‘no’ to everything?” George scowled, crossing his arms at his chest. “I don’t like this store,” he said again, more loudly this time. Behind the counter, the storekeeper was suddenly very invested in staring down at the tops of his shoes; nearby to the door, the pair of Ophid knights who’d accompanied their heir and his family shifted restlessly in place. “I want to go somewhere else,” the boy whined. “Can’t we go somewhere else?”

“George.” Marisa put a firm hand on her son’s shoulder, a serious tone filling her voice. “There’s no point going to another store when this has everything you can have. This is your first time taking care of a snake, so we want you to have an easy one. For everyone’s sake, including the snake’s. Unless you like being bitten by rainbow boas.” She then sighed, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll have more of a choice when you’re older and have taken good care of the snakes you have, but the ones you can have are fine snakes. So will you… please behave?”

“I don’t want a milk snake,” George said simply.

“A garter snake, then.” Ben clenched his jaw.

“Those are ugly.”

“And you're acting like a brat.” The heir of House Ophid was acutely aware of the shopkeeper intently not-listening at his back, and he let out a gusty sigh. “We can leave right now,” he said, seguing into a language he, Marisa, and George all knew, but that he quite hoped the merchant didn’t: his wife’s native tongue, Courdonian. “But not to another store. We’ll be go back home instead. And maybe we’ll revisit the idea of getting you a personal pet on your next birthday. When you’re more appreciative.”

“You won’t really do that,” George shot back, in Kythian.

“Yes we will, and it’s plenty fair if you won’t pick one out,” Marisa said, her voice smooth in the transition to her native language. “You’ve got plenty of choices of pretty snakes that are easy to start with, you should be happy for that. Do you want a snake or not?”

“Of course I do,” he spat in return, but his voice hitched, and his hands dropped into leaden fists at his side. “You just won’t let me get any that I want.”

“What’s gotten into you, George?” Ben asked, giving up on subtlety as he switched back into Kythian. “Is that how you speak to your mother?”

The boy shrugged, turning away from the wall of cages, and Ben was startled when he noticed tears welling in the child’s eyes. Furrowing his brow, the lord shared a befuddled look with Marisa before he hesitantly reached out to wipe the moisture away.

“Why are you crying?” he said, his voice softening. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t tell you,” the boy replied, hunching his shoulders. Through the corner of his eye, he caught movement from the Courdonian bog python’s vivarium, and the child flinched as he watched it slither closer to the glass. “Let’s just go,” George murmured. “Back home. You can send me to bed without supper, or whatever you want to do for me sassing you. I don’t care. It’s fine.”

Marisa frowned, giving an uncertain glance to Ben before turning back to her son. “George… What is it? You can tell us. We can still help you pick out a snake today if you behave from now on, okay?”

“But you’ll be mad,” George sniveled, leaning forward and nestling his forehead against his mother’s dress. “You’ll hate me. Both of you.”

As if sensing that this was a conversation that he really ought not be overhearing, the shopkeeper paused for a moment before disappearing hurriedly into a back room, the door thumping shut behind him. But Ben couldn’t spare a moment to sigh in a relief, not when his eldest son was presently snuffling into Marisa’s chest, despondent in a way that he’d rarely, if ever, seen the child before. George had always been a little somber and quiet, and he had a tendency toward sulking when things didn’t go his way, but this was something far different. Not a child’s tantrum, but a moment of vulnerability, pure and raw. Anguish, even.

“We won’t hate you, Georgie,” the lord said, his throat dry. “Mummy and I would never hate you. Right, Risa?”

“Of course we wouldn’t,” Marisa returned, patting George’s back. “You’re our son. Nothing will change that.”

“D-do you promise?” George hiccupped.

“Promise,” Ben said. “You never have to worry about that, George. Not ever.”

“Okay,” the boy whispered. Then, so softly that his words were nearly swallowed by the heavy folds of Marisa’s dress: “I don’t want a snake.”

Marisa blinked in surprise, sharing a look with her husband before looking back at George, patting his back again. “A-are you afraid you won’t be able to take care of it?” she asked tentatively.

“Uh-uh,” he said. “I know I could.”

“Why, then?” Ben asked. “Are you upset that Mummy and I aren’t letting you get a more advanced species? That it won’t be much different than any of the pets we already have?”

“No,” George murmured. “I don’t care about that.”

“Then why don’t you want one, Georgie?”

“Because I don’t.” The boy pulled back from his mother’s embrace, his cheeks now tear-stained and his nose running. “I just don’t.” He squashed his brow. “I don’t like them. I mean, t-they’re okay to look at sometimes, I guess, and… holding them can be alright, too, when they’re real little and calm, but...” He inhaled jaggedly. “I hate watching them eat. E-especially Priss.” Ben’s prized eastern hognose would only take live prey. “And when they shed, it f-freaks me out. How they just… lose all their skin. And most of them aren’t even that pretty. And some of them can be so mean.”

For a moment, Ben didn’t know what to say. A cold wave of disbelief washed into him like a river overtaking its dam, and the balmy shop suddenly felt as chilly as the early October air outside. Didn’t like snakes. His only son-- his heir-- didn’t like snakes? He almost laughed, but the sound died unheard in his throat. Especially when he looked back down at George and found that the boy had no trace of humor to his face at all. Rather, the child seemed agonized. As miserable as a starving beggar wretch on the street. His eyes were as red as sun blisters, his obsidian-black hair plastered to his forehead from sweat. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as if he were fighting back the urge to flee outright from the store. Away from the incredulous eyes of his parents, and the miserable truth he’d just admitted after spending so many years with it swallowed away.

“I’m right,” the boy said finally, cutting through the terse silence. “You hate me. You do.”

“No,” Ben said. “Never.” He made himself reach out and set a firm hand on his son’s shoulder. “How long have you felt this way, George? Why… why didn’t you tell us before?”

“As long as I can remember,” George choked out. “And… because… because I have to like them. I’m your heir. And you and Mum like them, and Grandfather likes them, and… even Josie likes them, and I just… I just don’t. I have to, and I don’t.”

Marisa was still for some time, battling with her own thoughts about the revelation as she witnessed her son’s distress, hearing every bit of misery in his voice. “Georgie, I… We always thought you liked snakes. You’ve… Been keeping it secret all this time? I...”

She hesitated, but then she swallowed and extended a hand,placing it upon George’s other shoulder. “Your father’s right, though. We still love you, and you’re still our son. It’s just… not what we expected.”

“I c-can’t be lord of Elacs one day, though, can I?” George whispered miserably. “If I don’t like snakes?”

“George.” Ben pressed a hand to his temple. “Do you think Grandmother Sabrina likes snakes?”

“N-no,” the boy said.

“You’re right,” his father replied. “She doesn’t. And neither does my sister, your aunt Caterina. Nor have… many other Ophids who came before you. More than I even probably know.” A slightly sick feeling still churning in his gut, he wrapped his arms around the boy, drawing him into a hug. “It’s not ideal. I won’t pretend that it is. But… you can look at a snake, right?”

“Uh-huh,” George said, whimpering as he melted into his father’s hold.

“And you can hold one, too, can’t you?”

George nodded.

“Then you can be the lord of Elacs, Georgie,” Ben said. “You don’t need to have a half-dozen vivariums of your own like Papa does. You don’t need to spend your afternoons in the vivarium like Mummy, or your uncle Bradley. All that matters, in the end, is that you can tolerate them. And you can do that, buddy, right?”

“Yes,” George sniffled. “I can do that.”

“Good.” Swallowing back the knot in his throat, Ben released his son and reached down to smooth his frizzy black hair. “I’m sorry,” he said, “that you thought you had to hide that from us, George. You and your sister… you two mean the world to me. More than the world. And I… I could never hate you. Not over anything.”

Marisa nodded. “You’re still family, and you always will be. Nothing’s going to change that, okay?”

“Okay.” George rubbed at his bloodshot eyes.

Giving the boy’s hair one last stroke, Ben sighed and glanced toward the door. “So,” he said, “we should probably get going, huh?”

“I… I could still pick one out,” George said, his jaw trembling. “If it’d make you and Mummy happy.”

“No.” The lord’s voice was firm. “If you don’t want a snake, George, then you don’t want a snake. Your mum and I will manage, okay?” He paused, considering, and forced a flicker of cheer back to his tone as he added, “Say, this means Mum and I owe you a new eighth birthday gift, doesn’t it, buddy?”

“I guess,” George agreed reluctantly.

“And we’re already out and about in the market, aren’t we?” the Ophid went on. “With Papa’s purse, and these nice escorts.” He gestured toward the knights, whose faces had remained professionally impertinent throughout the exchange.

“Y-yes, we are.” George nodded.

“So then.” Ben planted a kiss atop the crown of his son’s head. “What do you want for your birthday, Lord Ophid?” He glanced bashfully toward Marisa. “Maybe we should get him some nice arithmetic books. And quills! I’m sure he’ll like that, don’t you think?”

Marisa smirked at him. “Of course, and then maybe if we have enough money afterwards, we can get him a pot of ink. Exactly what a boy of eight wants, right?” She grinned down at George.

Finally, he dared let a small smile curve between his lips. Wiping again at his damp cheeks, he leaned his head against his mother’s sleeve. “Nuh-uh,” he said. “I don’t even like arithmetic.”

“No snakes, no arithmetic-- got it.” Ben took a step toward the door, beckoning for Marisa and George to follow him. “So then, Georgie, I’m dying to know: what does my little mystery man like?”

“Um.” Still holding to Marisa’s arm, George fell in step beside Ben with his mother. “I’unno.”

“Oh, don’t be coy,” Ben said, striding back out into the brisk afternoon air as the knights held the door open for him and his family. Instantly assailed by the din of the marketplace, he added, “Spit it out, bud. Mummy and Papa are all ears.”

As the Ophid party started into the bustling warren of stalls, booths, and tents, the small boy chewed his lip thoughtfully. “Can it be anything?” he asked after a moment, his eyes falling on something ahead in the distance.

Marisa smiled. “Anything within reason. What is it, Georgie?”

“That,” the boy said, pointing forward.

Ben followed the direction of his son’s finger, and once he had, he paused abruptly in place, thinking he must have read the point wrong. But no: George’s gaze was settled on it, too. Intent. Eager. Every bit of enthusiasm that had been missing from the child in the snake store suddenly apparent in spades.

“Oh, Georgie,” the lord sighed, bemused, as he watched a litter of massive black puppies, each tied to a merchant’s cart by a length of chain, gnawing on each other’s various appendages. “A dog? You want a dog?”

“Uh-huh,” the boy said. “We passed them on our way here. One of ‘em tried to follow me.” He indicated the smallest of the brood, which must have still weighed at least twenty pounds, and which was sitting slightly apart from the rest of its siblings. “I think it’s the runt.”

“We have dogs,” Ben said, but noticing the earnest look that glimmered in George’s eyes as he watched the pups, the lord of Ophid couldn’t help but smile, even as he continued, “The hounds, Georgie. Our hunting hounds.”

“They’re not pets, though,” George replied. “They’re loud. And they’ve lots of energy. They’d scare the snakes.”

“Don’t wanna scare the snakes too badly now,” Marisa said, her eyes following the dogs, watching them interact with each other with boundless energy that they couldn’t possibly hide.

Except for the runt; it was quiet and still. ‘Woo, Ben thought, it looked nearly as sullen as George had in the shop only a few minutes ago. It was sizable, too, even if the others dwarfed it, and if its behemoth paws were anything to judge by, the furry beast would probably soon outweigh George and Josie combined. Which only means it won’t make for easy prey fodder should one of our personal snakes escape, said the voice in the back of Ben’s head.

George, however, seemed to have read his father’s silence as a denial. The boy wilted like a rose beneath heavy rain. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked. I can get something else. A new cloak, maybe.”

“No.” The word was out of Ben’s mouth before he even quite realized what he was saying. “We were going to get you a pet, weren’t we? And it’s a pet that you’ll get.”

The child’s eyes widened like saucers. “R-really?”

“Yes, really,” Ben said.

“After all,” Marisa added, smiling, “It’s a rite of passage for you to pick your first own personal pet, right?”

“Right.” George beamed, tears pricking again in his eyes. It took Ben a moment to realize that this time, they were happy tears.

He couldn’t keep the brightness out of his own voice as he nevertheless cautioned, “But a dog is a lot more work than a snake, Georgie. I’m sure the houndmaster will help you some, and give you a space in the kennels, but this pup’s going to be your responsibility. You’ll need to feed it. And groom it. And train it-- especially if you’re going to keep it inside the castle any, around the snakes. You understand that, right?”

“Uh-huh.” George nodded earnestly. “I’ll do everything. I promise.” He paused, radiant, before turning to give a hug first to Marisa, and then to Ben. “Thank you,” he breathed. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” Marisa beamed at him. “Happy birthday, Georgie.”

“Now,” Ben said, gently edging his son away and threading his fingers through the boy’s, “let’s go, George. You’re right-- I think the runt likes you. It’s been staring love letters at you this whole time.”

“Hopefully that means it’ll be easier to train,” George replied, a bounce to his step.

And hopefully your grandfather doesn’t kill me when I come home with a gigantic puppy, not a snake, the Ophid lord thought but didn’t say. ‘Woo, he could spend time worrying about that later.

For now, it was time to get young George his pup.

[Avery]

Popping this over here now that I have this thread established - part one is solo, part two is collabed with Celestial. ^^ Takes place in 1301.

The Warden of Serpents: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

His official title at Copperhead Castle was the Warden of Serpents, but behind Constantine Nystrom’s back, the other servants called him simply the Beastmaster.

Costa was not quite sure how this name had come about, nor did he truly care to know: The rumours about its origins were as varied as were the breeds of the snakes in his charge, ranging from the obvious (“He’s the keeper of the beasts”) to the salty (“No one can truly master such creatures, but don’t tell Master Nystrom that, sorry bugger”) to the borderline insulting (“He almost favours a beast himself, doesn’t he, what with that towering frame and hair as dark and shaggy as a black bear’s matted coat?”). In any case, the whisperings served well to cement to Costa why he’d ever striven for such a position at all-- people might talk and titter and tease, but snakes never did.

Sometimes he wondered who was really so cold-blooded.

The clutch of Courdonian bog python eggs was due to pip any hour now. In the past fifty-seven days since their mother had laid them, the eggs had become something of a neurosis to Constantine-- a labour of love and tears and many long nights spent perched over the incubator, his wand curled in his hand like a child might clutch to a favourite toy, the man ready to cast a spell to adjust the temperature or humidity if it fell even a degree beneath its optimum.

Six years.

Six bloody years.

That was how long now Lord Melvin had been trying to raise so much as a single healthy Courdonian bog python from neonate to adulthood, rather than keep only specimens that were wild-caught and wild-reared, which rendered them virtually impossible to handle by all but the deftest of reflexes and foolhardiest of dispositions. Theirs, after all, was a capricious species, hard to keep and harder still to breed: Even if you got a male and female together long enough to mate without one summarily consuming the other, the eggs were fickle playthings. In the first few weeks, the embryos would often stop developing, at times for no discernible reason (or at least, for no reason that Costa could discern). The temperature and humidity in the incubator had to be kept oh-so-carefully in check. And even if you got live hatchlings, if you weren’t watching when they slithered free from their yolky beginnings the bigger babies would often prey upon the littler ones. Last year he’d lost three-quarters of a clutch that way, only to have the lone survivor die not long later itself, again for no reason Costa could do anything more than wildly conjecture over.

But this time would be different.

He had a feeling in his bones.

“You look at though you’re keeping vigil at your sick babe’s bedside.”

Costa, perched on a wooden stool over the incubator in which six perfect alabaster eggs nested like seashells in sand, grimaced at the voice. The speaker’s tone was so deliberately neutral one might have thought it harmless, but Costa knew better. He’d learned such a thing from snakes. The volatile species you knew to keep your edge around, dogs never let off their chains. It was the normally docile ones-- who’d drape in your hands like lazy puppies-- who lulled you into a sense of complacency, which only made it hurt all the worse when you found their fangs embedded in your hand.

The Warden of the Serpents was keen to never let Fatima Smith’s proverbial teeth sink into him again.

“They’re due to pip,” Costa said to her, not sparing the woman a glance. “I mustn’t miss it.”

“Do you ever sleep?” she purred, her words throaty and as thick as smoke. Costa had never been sure how much of this had to do with her heavy accent-- from Mzia, where she was born and raised-- and how much was simply Fatima as she was and he quite suspected she always had been. “You’ve bags beneath your eyes,” she went on, striding around to the incubator’s other side so that she might study him over it. “You looked wretched, dear.”

“I’m not your dear,” he said to her. “And who let you in here, anyway?”

“The real question is, why would anyone keep me out?” She smirked at him, her dark eyes glimmering like gems. “The guards love me, Costa.”

At least she hadn’t called him Beastmaster. Not to his face. Not this time. “I think you confuse terror with love,” he replied.

“Terror?” She traced a finger along the tempered glass of the incubator, as a child might over the wrong side of a rain-slicked windowpane. “But who would be afraid of sweet little Fatima Smith?”

Smith wasn’t her real name, not back in Mzia. She’d give him no straight answer either way on its origins, but Costa rather suspected that she’d chosen it upon arriving here a year ago because of its lack of originality: Smith was anyone, and anyone was Smith. You didn’t turn heads on the street with a name like Smith. “They say you mutter curses on them into your pillow at night,” Costa returned. “In tongues only the ‘Pit speaks.”

“Curses?” Fatima snorted. “Ah, but that’s only what Mzian sounds like. It’s hardly my fault my mother tongue was born in the throat of someone with a terrible cough.”

Finally bringing up his eyes to meet hers, Costa sighed. “What do you want, Fatima? You clearly didn’t come here to pet my incubator like it’s a kitten.”

“The humidity’s low in the adder habitat again,” she said. “Nisa’s cranky.” All the snakes had names. “And I’ve adjusted the spellwork a half dozen times, but to no avail. Rousseau and Pryory gave a go at it, as well, but nothing.”

“Have you figured out what’s dropping it?” Costa asked.

“If we had, don’t you think we’d have fixed it, Beastmaster?” And out came the fangs.

“Don’t call me that,” Costa snapped. Standing roughly, he jabbed a finger down at the motionless incubator. “Watch it,” he ordered. “And if any of them start to pip, send for me immediately.”

“Of course, Master Nystrom.” Fatima beamed. “I shall have a messenger running breathlessly to your side the very moment one of these little buggers stirs.”

Most people in Copperhead Castle wouldn’t dare speak to Costa like that. He outranked almost everyone but the noble family itself, a fact that the rest of the staff was well aware of even if they did risk calling him unflattering names behind his back. If almost any servant truly galled him, Costa could always demand the wretch fired, and the Ophids would readily oblige. A kitchen girl or laundress, after all, was easy to replace; Costa was not. The problem was, neither was Fatima.

And Woo if she didn’t know it.

It took but two careful flicks of his wand to fix the humidity in the adder enclosure and two lashes of his tongue to scold each Rousseau and Pryory for not being able to identify the problem in the first place. Sometimes it sent a cold pall of unease roiling through Costa’s gut at the sorts of men and women who worked beneath his thumb, entrusted along with him to care for House Ophid’s beloved serpents. If these mages were the best of Elacs, then Woo, what did that mean of the rest?

Back in the makeshift nursery room, the eggs were just as he’d left them. Fatima sat on the wooden stool with her arms crossed and her lips pursed, her coal black hair hanging lazily over her shoulder in a single, hip-length braid. She wore it much longer than did most women in Elacs; Costa didn’t think she’d cut it since her arrival to Kyth last year, when she’d swaggered off the ship in the port city of Colubrina the same week he’d been visiting to see off an emerald tree boa to an eccentric Cerrish collector. They’d met at a pub, gotten to talking about magic, and the next thing he knew he was putting in a good word to the Ophids on her behalf.

That was the worst thing about self-made graves: Even once you’re buried up to your nose, you still can’t deny the fact that it was your digging that put you there to start with.

“I can watch them longer if you want to get some shut eye, Costa,” she said to him. Now it was her who didn’t bother to turn and look his way.

“I can’t,” Costa said. “I need to be here when they hatch.”

“What if it’s not today? There’s a range, Master Nystrom. They’re still at the low end of it, you know.”

He fought the urge to snarl at her over her condescending tone. “Get out, Miss Smith,” he said flatly. “This isn’t a two-man task.”

“Good thing I’m not a man.” She seemed quite pleased with her own wit, although she smoothed her skirts and stood anyway. Stepping back from the stool, she added, “You need to lighten up sometimes, Costa. There’s more to life than snakes.”

“Perhaps if you’d be happier under somebody else’s authority, you could find a position of employment elsewhere,” Costa suggested, sitting again and leaning over the incubator like a freezing man over the warmth of a hearth. “But as it stands, Miss Smith, I am in charge, and you are not. I said to leave, and I recommend you make haste of it.”

“Of course, Master Nystrom.” She smirked. “Your wish is my command.”

Three hours later, the first egg pipped, the rest following not long afterward as though each hatchling was eager to be the first to greet the world. They were so tiny they could fit in the palm of Costa’s hand, and gingerly picking the writhing creatures up so that he could sort them into separate habitats, he marveled over what they were now in comparison to what they’d one day become.

Lord Melvin named the fattest and spryest of them Felicity, after his wife, which Constantine knew better than to comment on but Fatima, of course, did not. Three days later, as she and Costa performed heat checks together in the venomous species room, she told him she thought it was the strangest she’d ever heard before in her life. Like frosting a stone and calling it a cake.

“What’s Lady Felicity even think of it?” the woman puzzled, barely flinching as a rankled diamondback struck at the glass of the vivarium she was assessing. “I mean, she’s from Dormor, isn’t she? Is that a thing in Dormor-- naming animals after people?”

“No,” said Costa.

“Is it a thing here, then?” she continued. “In Kyth?”

“I don’t think it’s a thing anywhere,” Costa replied flatly. Then: “But you shouldn’t speak of the Ophids like that, Miss Smith. They are your lords, not topics over which you ought gossip.”

“But lords are the best people to gossip about,” Fatima pointed out. “They’ve the most interesting lives. And admit it, Costa-- Lord Melvin’s not quite all there, is he?”

A jolt of frustration tearing into him like an arrow splitting skin, Costa snapped, “Is that what’s acceptable in Mzia, then? Speaking ill of your betters? Insulting the lord who gave you a job and a home?”

“I’m not insulting him. Only musing.”

“Muse less, then. And focus on your work.”

“Yes, isha,” she huffed.

“Isha?” he parroted. “What’s isha?”

“A Mzian word.” She waved her hand, moving from the diamondback enclosure to the one beside it. “It means nothing.”

He didn’t know a lick of Mzian but did know enough of Fatima to suspect this wasn’t true, but Costa hardly wanted to drag the exchange out further. Instead, he turned his focus to the vivariums as he and Fatima finished checking the spells, the silence that settled over the room a pleasant change from the husky rattle of Fatima’s voice.

In the end, five of the six hatchlings made it no more than a week, but Felicity proved tenacious. She grew like a flower in the rain until soon she was too big to drape over his arm, let alone fit in the cup of his palm, and even if babysitting Lord Melvin as he handled her was enough to vex even the hardiest of constitutions, Constantine didn’t let it bother him overmuch. It all came with the job.

And the Warden of the Serpents was very good at his job.

And, as much as he hated it, Fatima was-- most of the time-- quite good at hers. She was the knife stuck into his leg that he didn’t dare pry free because if he did, who knew how much blood would come spurting in its wake? She was a powerful mage, and a quick learner at that; she could tolerate snakes; when she wasn’t chattering his ear off, she was competent, time efficient, and hadn’t quit the first time a snake decided to have a go at her tantalizing brown hands. These were not common qualities to find in people, and when you did find them, you could hardly fire the person because they had a smart tongue and cutting demeanour.

Unfortunately for Constantine, it was this surliness that earned Fatima an invitation to accompany Costa to Colubrina about six months after Felicity’s hatching, the port city being where House Ophid was set to take possession of a rather rare boa constrictor imported all the way from the balmy jungles of Tengiz. That was not to say it was Costa who issued the invitation; he would have sooner cleaved off his own toes with a hatchet. Rather, it was Lord Melvin who brightly observed that “the young Miss Smith is a strong personality, no?” and then suggested this would come of good use in Colubrina, which boasted a warren of docks, even more pubs, and enough cutpurses and cutthroats to keep the pillories and gallows fully stocked at all times.

The Ophids sent Costa and Fatima with a small armed and armored escort and put them up at an inn on the nice side of town, which didn’t mean a whole lot of anything and, to Constantine, was sort of like trying to determine the more palatable part of a rotten fruit. Sure, some bites might be slightly lessly maggoty than others, but that hardly does anything to erase the general undercurrent of festering ruin. His window was held shut with a daubing of melted candle wax; at night, the sound of arguing drunkards at the pub down the road swirled through the leaf-thin walls so that no one inside could possibly get any sleep. His door didn’t lock, but the handle still stuck. The pork in the stew was perhaps not truly pork.

On the bright side, the view was scenic.

Rolling blue ocean waves lashed and broke against the salt-worn docks. Further out, a rainbow of anchored ships bobbed in the water like ducks on a pond, bearing flags and banners from the half the countries on the continent: Kyth, of course, and Courdon, but Lange, too. Cerrin. Valzaim.

Mzia.

There were quite a lot from Mzia, their corresponding crews spread about the town like splinters from a piece of poorly chopped wood. Costa could identify them on the street not because of their ebony hair and dark complexions-- such traits were not exactly rare in sailors-- but rather on account of their speech. He still didn’t know a lick of Mzian, but from Fatima he could recognize the sounds of the tongue well enough: guttural and harsh, as if Courdonian had gone and decided it needed an extra ladeling of raspiness. On their second night in town, he and Fatima fell in step behind a pair of chattering Mzians as the two Ophid servants and their escort walked to grab a meal at one of the city’s less seedy venues, and Costa spared the woman a sidelong glance, perhaps expecting her to show some sign of interest or cheer. After all, if he were in her place-- living in a kingdom so far from home-- someone speaking Kythian would be a little treat for him. A burst of nostalgia.

Instead, Fatima was frowning, her cheeks sucked in and her hands clenched at her sides in rigid fists. As long as he’d known her, the woman had always walked with confidence and pride aplenty, but now all of a sudden her posture was limpid, her head dipped down and eyes cast on the ground beneath.

“Are you okay?” he asked her, a slick of fear coating his gut. Did she understand danger where he didn’t? And if so, why hadn’t she alerted their guards?

“Yes,” she murmured, so quietly that only he could hear her. “I’m fine.”

But she clearly wasn’t. At the pie shop she hardly touched her meal nor her ale, and even back at the inn later she was subdued, retiring to her room without a word to Costa (and Woo knew Fatima was never one to miss a chance to blather his ear off). Part of Costa wished he did speak Mzian, if only so that he could know what the men had been saying. What words had managed to rattle Fatima to such an extent that she was dour even hours later.

That night, he dreamt of Felicity. Not draped over his palm as she’d once been but crushing his throat as she very well could now, her massive body pressing down on his windpipe. He awoke not long past dawn gasping for air, and even once he bolted upright and regained his bearings, he nearly lost them once again when he spied an unexpected form across the room: Fatima.

She was curled up in the corner like a kitten in a basket, asleep and laid out directly on the bare floor. She faced him but she might as well have not, her long, glossy hair obscuring her face like a veil. When had she come in? Why had she come in? Part of Costa, incensed by the invasion of privacy, wanted to storm over to her, shake her awake, and demand of her these answers. But then he remembered her wilted demeanour the night before and refrained. Something was obviously upsetting the woman, and as much as a dark, wicked part of the man found some measure of delight in unflappable Fatima finally flapped, most of him just wanted her back to normal-- or, perhaps, a less potent form of normal-- so that once the Tengzian ship arrived at harbour, they could fetch the snake and high-tail it back to Copperhead.

He supposed he might as well have stared her awake, as a few minutes later she sat sharply upright herself, blinking against the early morning light. As she brushed her hair out of her eyes, Costa caught a flicker of something-- a scar, or maybe a tattoo-- beneath the hollow of her collarbone, but when Fatima noticed him looking, she instantly wrenched her dress back up and over it.

“Master Nystrom,” she said. “Good morning.”

“Morning yourself,” he returned coolly. “Enjoying my floor, Miss Smith?”

“I’ve slept on worse.” Although she forced a cheeky smile, there was a certain rawness to the words that made Costa suspect this wasn’t necessarily too far off base. “Thank you for letting me occupy it.”

I hardly let you, Costa wanted to stay. Instead, he pursed his lips and waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it.”

“The Jungle Crawler should be in harbour by this evening, yes?” she asked. Clearly a means of diverting the topic, but as it wasn’t an unwelcome one, Costa felt no need to call her out on it.

“It should,” Costa agreed. “We ought be there to greet it.”

Unfortunately, there was no ship to greet. The day passed, and the sun set, and not a single new Tengizan ship entered Colubrina’s waters. This was a disappointment to Costa but not the end of the world, the men at the docks ensuring him that weather happened, ships ran late, and it ought be in town in no more than a few additional days, his scaly charge safely in tow.

But it wasn’t.

Each day Costa and Fatima waited, and each day they returned to the sorry inn empty-handed. A series of pigeons arrived from Melvin Ophid, increasingly worried, and Costa had nothing to write back to his lord other than nebulous reassurances that the ship would surely arrive soon. After a week of absentia, however, the Warden of Serpents had to start to consider the fact that something might have gone very wrong.

“When’s the last anyone even saw of it?” he asked one of the longshoremen at the docks.

“One of the Cerrishmen tells me he saw it down in Arcadia last month.” This was a small port city in Seguier province, Courdon.

“But not since?”

“Aye,” said the longshoremen. “Not since.”

It were as if the good ship Jungle Crawler had disappeared into the frothing waves below.

The Warden of Serpents: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

“I don’t see why we’re still posting vigil here,” Fatima said on day nine of waiting. Woo, had it been on time, they could have already been back to Copperhead twice or even thrice over. “It’s not going to come, Costa. It’s a ghost.”

“And it is our ghost,” Constantine replied flatly, shifting on his heel as the soles of his shoes crunched into the salty wood of the dock below. “We have a job, Miss Smith. We must be patient.”

“There is patience,” the woman grumbled, “and there is foolishness. We have long since passed the threshold.” A beat. “The wharf rats are starting to talk about us. The poor little servants of House Ophid, part of a greeting committee for a ship that’s probably laid out at the bottom of the sea.”

“Don’t call them wharf rats,” Costa scolded. “And so what if they talk? We owe nothing to them. Only Lord Melvin.”

“He’s sent us twelve pigeons.”

“I’m aware.”

“That’s more than one per day.”

“I am also aware.”

“And all this,” she marveled bitterly, “over a godsdamned snake.”

There was a harsh snort of amusement from beside them. “You work for House Ophid,” the man beside them remarked, his grey eyes glimmering with amusement. “You’d think you’d know by now: no effort spared for the snakes.”

Costa whirled sharply in the speaker’s direction. The words had come in something far more posh than the usual cutting accent of the native Colubrinan dockworkers, and the tailored drape of his clothes did nothing to dispel such an idea. Costa’s head dipped automatically in a bow, his lips parting to offer something akin to an apology for his employee’s impudent words, but before he could speak, Fatima let out a huffish sniff.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?” she demanded, jabbing a finger at the stranger’s chest. “It doesn’t become you, or anyone.”

He laughed. “Yes she did and I never paid her much heed,” the man smiled and casually swatted aside her finger, moving back out of her range. “Besides, you can be heard all over the docks. At some point it stops being a private conversation.”

“Of course-- forgive her,” Costa said, not lifting his head. “She is simply grouchy from a long spell of waiting. Colubrina does not bring out the best in people, even when you’re not stuck in its confines a week past your expected departure.” He almost added my lord but refrained at the last moment, not wanting to seem brash or presumptuous in case this wasn’t true, although Costa had spent enough time around nobility to strongly believe that it was.

“You got that right; this place is miserable, I don’t envy you or anybody being stuck here. Don’t worry, it’s all forgiven. I’ve had girls- or ‘Pit, not just girls- do much worse to me. No hard feelings,” the man had turned his head leisurely to face Costa. “So what’s keeping you in Colubrina? It can’t be the atmosphere.”

“Oh, but the city’s lovely!” Fatima said brightly. “I’ve never seen so many seedy pubs in one place, or tasted so many mugs of watered down ale!”

“Miss Smith.” Finally straightening, Constantine cringed. “We’re awaiting a ship,” the man went on, his honeyed brown eyes meeting the stranger’s stormy grey ones. “Flagged out of Tengiz. It was due nearly a fortnight ago, but there’s been no sign of it, and no one’s seen hull or sail of it since Arcadia.”

A soft chuckle emerged from the man’s mouth at Fatima’s comment but what Costa said intrigued him more. “That’s a while to wait, especially if it’s gone that far without docking in a port,” he put a hand to his chin. “Me and my crew sailed in from that direction a few days ago so I might be able to help you out. What’s the name of your missing ship?”

“The Jungle Crawler.” Costa thought it was a stupid name. “I believe it’s mostly a spice ship, but it has a… package… on board for Lord Melvin of House Ophid. My lord is quite anxious to receive it.”

The stranger burst out laughing. “Lord Melvin is going to be waiting a while then. The Jungle Crawler was seized by a Courdonian privateer. Apparently it was carrying some kind of contraband. I don’t know if that was your package or not.”

He grinned, putting a hand on his hip. “Bad luck. I don’t envy Lord Melvin either. I’ve had prize cases that dealt with the Courdonian admiralty, they aren’t exactly speedy or efficient. It will be a while before you see jib or mast of her.”

Costa went so pale he looked like he might faint. “Seized?” he echoed, his voice strangled. “The ship was seized--?” Bringing a hand to his temple, he let out a sound that was halfway between a squawk and a moan. “Dear Woo. Lord Melvin is going to be furious.”

“What’s he expect, dealing with dodgy Tengizans who promise him the moon on a string?” Fatima, on the other hand, did not seem at all upset. Only very tired and very bemused. “At least we know now, eh, Costa? Won’t have to spend more than another night in this armpit of a city.”

“He’s going to gut us.”

“Why?” Fatima furrowed her brow. “It’s hardly our fault.” Almost cockily, she patted the wand holstered at her hip. “And if he tried, well, I reckon I could take him.”

Costa was not sure this was the sort of thing Fatima ought be threatening around a well-dressed man who spoke like a high lord and whose identity was still unknown, but still reeling from the news about the Jungle Crawler, he couldn’t bring himself to chide her. Instead, he let out a miserable sigh. “Thank you for telling us,” he told the blonde man. “Even if it’s not what I wanted to hear.”

The sailor shrugged. “Hey, no skin off my back, and if it saves you from lingering here, glad to be of service,” he smiled at Costa, taking in the man’s pale appearance. “Relax, if there’s anybody Melvin should be angry at, it’s the Courdonians. He can take his rage out in a sternly worded letter to the Admiral there.”

He strode over to the Warden of Serpents and clapped him on the back. “It’s alright, you’ll live. Assuming your lady-friend doesn’t decide that treason is a reasonable course of action,” he shot Fatima a glance before turning back to Costa. “Anyway, right now, you look like you’re in need of a drink, or several. Want to go get some? Since you’ve already got enough rotten luck for the week, it’s on me.”

Costa took a moment to spare a glance at the impassive pair of Ophid knights at his and Fatima’s flank, which was a fatal error, because it gave Fatima time to answer before he could. “A free drink is always the best sort of drink,” the woman said.

“Miss Smith.” Costa winced at her flippant tone, but if this man truly was a lord as Costa suspected, then the Warden of Serpents knew that turning down his offer might be construed as an insult. “We thank you for your kindness,” he went on smoothly. “My name is Constantine. Constantine Nystrom. And the too-blithe lady is called Fatima. With whom do we have the pleasure of consorting, sir?”

“Captain Llyr Brachyura,” the blond man held out his right hand, “Note: Captain, not Lord. Pleased to meet you both, even if the circumstances aren’t the greatest, let’s say.”

He gestured with his left hand down a wide street leading away from the dock, sticking out his thumb. “Anyway, there’s a nice inn back there, my first mate told me about it. You’ll be glad to hear they don’t water down their drinks either,” Llyr shot Fatima a sly smile in particular and turned on his heel with a small flourish. “If you want to follow me…”

Nice still remained a relative term for Colubrina, but even Costa had to admit that this inn was, indeed, slightly less wretched than all the others. The innkeeper had a glass eye and rheumy hands that shook when he poured his guests tankards, but he was polite enough, and Constantine counted only three rats visible in the dining room, which in Colubrina was hardly anything.

“You buying for just us, or the knights, too, Captain?” Fatima demanded as she selected for them a table in the back corner. Costa wasn’t sure if she was just even stupider than he’d thought or she genuinely hadn’t recognized the Brachyura name, but in either case he wanted to throttle her.

“Don’t impinge on his generosity, Miss Smith,” the Warden of Serpents said stiffly. “Or I’ll have you pay for your own drinks merely out of principle.”

“Ah, it’s fine. I can speak for myself when my generosity is impinged upon, Mr. Nystrom,” Llyr smiled, sitting down in one of the chairs and swinging back slightly on it. He cast his eyes around the two snake handlers and then the knights before shrugging. “One drink for your guards, just so they aren’t drunk enough to stand. I figure in a place like this, you need your men to be alert.”

He produced two coins from an inner pocket in his coat and handed them to the guards. “Go get yourselves some then. Should be enough there for two tankards.”

Once that was taken care of, Llyr picked up his own mug and turned his gaze over to Fatima. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not from Elacs, are you? You don’t look local, and your name strikes me as something from much farther south.”

Fatima stiffened like wet clay in the sun. Hand gripping to her tankard but not moving it from its place on the table, she said, “No, I’m not from here. Not originally.”

“She’s from Mzia,” Costa clarified, raising a brow at her sudden coyness. “She’s been here about a year, in employment with House Ophid for most of that time.” He sincerely regretted this last fact.

“Mzia, huh? I’ve been there, it’s a nice country...for the most part,” Llyr raised his beer to his lips. “Must have been quite an adjustment for you, coming here, Miss Smith. Elacs is a far cry from Mzia. But your Kythian is excellent for somebody who has only been here a year. Guessing you learned in advance then?”

“I did,” she agreed. “I hardly came to your kingdom without any knowledge of the tongue. It’s difficult enough in a new place without the added complication of a communication barrier.” She picked up the ale and took a good, long swill. “I did not know there would be so many snakes.”

At this, Costa smiled grimly. “You fell into the wrong line of work if you didn’t want snakes, Miss Smith,” he said.

“My pockets would disagree,” she returned. Smirking at Llyr, she added, “Not, of course, that this means the next round is on me. I hardly brought my jangling purse to Colubrina, Captain.”

“Of course not. If you did, it would be in the hands of some pickpocket or another by now,” Llyr laughed, his grey eyes twinkling. “I said I’m buying so I’ll keep my word. But if you take advantage of me too much, I might just send Lord Melvin the bill. So watch yourselves.”

He placed his mug down on to the table and leaned back even further on his chair. “I must say though, I wouldn’t expect a girl as well-off and from as far away as you are to be working as a mage looking after Ophid snakes. Especially if you have no interest in them, Miss Smith. No employment opportunities back in Mzia, huh?”

Fatima froze again. “No,” she said carefully. “I suppose there weren’t.”

Next to her, Costa frowned. When he’d first met her in a pub not too much unlike this one last year, she’d told him she’d come north out of wanderlust, not a lack of opportunities. “She’s had sublime training, however,” the Warden of Serpents said now. “Mzian spellwork is different than Kythian, but impressive magic is impressive no matter which god you’re invoking.”

”Oh I’ve seen enough foreign magic to know that, don’t worry,” Llyr chuckled and tilted his head at Fatima. “Language training and magic training? You’re definitely a very skilled person, Miss Smith…huh,” he smiled slyly before taking another sip of his drink. “So what brings you to Kyth then? Talented mage, clearly well-off...and yet here you are in a seedy inn on a job for the Ophids. It’s curious.”

“I did not know I’d agreed to an interrogation,” Fatima said thickly. “You are a ship’s captain; certainly you would understand having difficulty staying put in one place, no? Regardless of how much money your family has back at home.”

Taking a sip of his own ale, Costa’s frown only deepened. Certainly he’d known she must have been moneyed in Mzia, or else she would have never made it so far to Kyth. But for the first time it dawned on him quite how moneyed she had to have been, to be so impeccably trained in all the things that she was. And while he didn’t claim to be an expert on Mzian customs or ideals, he’d always understood their culture to be something akin to Courdon’s-- not just in the slavery, but also in facets of kinsmanship and social roles in general. The idea of a wealthy Mzian man’s child-- and when Fatima had arrived last year she hardly was more than a child, having turned seventeen while at sea-- being allowed to come all the way to Kyth suddenly seemed very strange to him, in a cutting way he’d never stopped to consider before.

Llyr too, seemed to feel something was amiss. His smile faded and he let his chair drop, no longer leaning back on it so casually. “There’s no need to be so cagey with me, Miss Smith, I’m just making conversation,” he shrugged and leaned forward on the table. “I do know what wanderlust is like and it wouldn’t tie you down with the Ophids for a year having a job you don’t particularly seem to like. Especially so far from home. Had you wanted to travel, assuming a Mzian would even allow his daughter to do that, you’d have gone somewhere closer. Courdon, for example. And Smith is an awfully Kythian name for a girl from Mzia...”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know, Miss Smith, I’ve dealt with plenty of escaped slaves in my time. Were it not for your obvious education and the clear lack of any conditioning, I’d bet anything you were one.”

Almost defensively, Fatima’s fingers settled over her wand holster, and in a silent warning, Costa danced his hand over hers, letting her know that she would be very poorly advised to draw right now. “Is that something you often bet about, Captain Brachyura?” she said. “Whether or not someone has spent their life in fetters? It must be a very sorry life.”

“Watch your tongue,” Costa snapped. Even for Fatima that was a harsh thing to say, especially to somebody with Woo-cursed Brachyura blood. “You are in an Ophid city, wearing Ophid servant’s livery, trailed by Ophid knights. You do not have free reign to insult strangers.”

“Of course, isha,” she growled, wrenching her hand away from his.

Isha. That word again. Costa could have screamed.

Instead, he forced a diplomatic smile toward Llyr Brachyura. “I apologize,” he said. “Miss Smith hardly meant such a thing, my lord.” He caught himself and grimaced. “Er, Captain.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Nystrom, I’m not going to take offence,” Llyr’s voice was neutral but he kept his eyes fixed on Fatima. Seeing her hand hovering over her wand holster, his inched towards an inner pocket in his coat.

“For your information, Miss Smith, I disapprove of slavery and have the highest respect for any who dare escape from that. I have a few very good men serving under me who came to me looking for a way out. And one of them was from Courdon, on the Mzian border. For a while, he called me isha too. So I know what it means,” the Brachyuran gave off a single bark of laughter. “Why would anybody but a former slave call anyone ‘master’?”

He tilted his head. “Except you don’t act anything like one: you are defiant, you speak fluent Kythian and most importantly, “ Llyr nodded at her wand. “All slave mages are conditioned but you obviously aren’t,” his eyes fixed right on hers. “You’re keeping secrets, Miss Smith, and I’d have no issue with that, but judging by how Mr. Nystrom is reacting to all this, it isn’t just me you’re not telling things to.”

“I don’t see why my secrets belong to anyone but myself,” Fatima snapped. “What do you want me to say, Captain?” Abruptly, she stood, but Costa reached out and caught her wrist.

“Where are you planning to go-- to stalk the streets by yourself?” he huffed. “Sit back down, Miss Smith.” When she bristled still, he amended, “Fatima. Please.”

She obliged, but she was very clearly not happy about it. “A year I’ve told no one,” she said darkly, and it wasn’t entirely apparent whether she was talking to Costa, Llyr, or simply herself. “Yet you offer me a drink and have it all figured out in five minutes? Gods, my father always did say I shouldn’t trust sailors.”

“I didn’t even have to get you drunk, that’s an achievement,” Llyr laughed before his expression became serious again. “I’m asking you this because as a rule, I don’t believe in trusting anybody who keeps secrets. On my crew, a secret kept from me can mean death for everyone. So naturally, I’m wary, especially because your co-worker seemed to know nothing about this. I’m surprised the Ophids even gave you the job looking after their precious snakes without finding all this out.”

He shrugged and picked up his tankard of beer, though he did not take a drink from it. “So you might as well tell the truth. It isn’t like I’m going to be going off to sell you to Mzian slavers anyway. I have better ways to make money.”

“There’s no bounty for my return, anyway,” Fatima muttered. “If you brought me to Mzia, you’d make enemies, not coin.”

Llyr snorted. “Yeah, I hardly doubt the Ophids will let me get away with kidnapping one of their mages but that’s probably not what you meant,” he peered at her over his mug. “Between the language lessons and your transportation, somebody clearly went to a lot of effort to bring you here, I doubt they’d want me to undo their hard work. And usually all that effort goes into keeping a slave from not escaping.”

The Brachyuran tilted his head. “Wonder what kind of person would ever engineer such a thing? Because I wouldn’t mind meeting them,” he grinned as an amusing thought crossed his mind. “Unless it was your sailor-hating father, in which case probably not.”

“Then I suppose a meeting shan’t take place.” Deliberately leaning away from Costa so that he couldn’t again grab her, Fatima knocked back a final wash of the ale before standing once more. “Thanks for the drink, Captain,” she said stiffly, “but I think I’ve had enough of my life laid bare for one day. And Master Nystrom and I ought probably head back to our own lodgings to send a pigeon to Lord Melvin about the Jungle Crawler’s fate, anyhow. Right, Costa?”

This almost seemed to be a challenge, but Costa knew she was right and so he didn’t dare take the glove. Instead, he sighed and stood, as well, brushing off his trousers as he did. “Very well,” he said. Then, to Llyr: “Thank you for your generosity, Captain Brachyura. And I apologize for Miss Smith’s salty tongue.”

“Oh, no problem. Thanks for the interesting conversation, both of you,” Llyr gulped down most of his drink and leaned back on his chair again. “Tell Lord Melvin to enlist the help of the Kythian Admiralty too, I’m sure Nerry will love it!”

He shot a glance directly at Costa. “And I suggest, Mr. Nystrom, that if you’re working closely with people for a year or more, you find out what they’re keeping from you, to avoid unpleasant surprises in the future.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Costa said with a leaden smile and roiling gut, before gesturing to the knights and starting toward the inn’s door.

Fatima turned but did not move after him. At least, not at first. Instead, she glanced back over her shoulder and called to Llyr, “Abioye. Mirza Halim Abioye. That is my father. Do you know the name Abioye, Captain Brachyura?”

“I’ve been to Mzia, Miss Smith, of course I know it,” Llyr snorted. “The title of a prince and the surname of the royal family. You’re pretty high born, for a slave...but given Courdon and Mzia’s practices, that’s not too unusual.”

“I am not high-born. My father is. I am not.” She shrugged, as though she’d long ago accepted this. Near the door, Costa paused and turned back around toward her, straining his ears to overhear her hushed words as she went on, “I cannot write him. He says it’s too dangerous. But ship captains travel, no? I’m not stupid; I know the world is a big place. But if you ever found yourself in Kader district-- it’s on the sea, you know-- and had a chance to pass a message to the mirza…” She bit her lip. “Would you tell my father that I’m okay? Nothing more than that. Just that I’m… alive. Surviving.”

Llyr raised an eyebrow before smiling and nodding. “If he cares so much about you, I’d be happy to. It all depends on where the wind and the job takes me, but if me and my Mistral are ever in that area, I’ll make sure to drop him the message.”

Back at their own inn, Costa hardly knew what to say to Fatima. She immediately tried to slink away from him into her private room, but he blocked her, his jaw clenched and eyes glimmering with something between fury and disbelief.

“Why,” he demanded, his voice practically quivering, “did you never tell me, Fatima?”

“I didn’t think there was anything to tell.”

“Nothing to tell?” He laughed starkly. “You’re a runaway slave-- and, as far as Lord Brachyura tells it, the daughter of a prince!”

“I didn’t run away,” Fatima snapped. Then: “Lord Brachyura? He called himself captain. He was, in fact, very specific about the captain.”

“Doesn’t change his blood,” Costa said. “That captain you were sassing is the son of a high lord, Fatima. He may run around on pretty boats, but he’s still a man who warrants a certain amount of respect and decorum. That you seemed to at one point be considering drawing your wand on him--” His voice broke off in disgust.

“I wouldn’t have really done it,” Fatima said.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve lied to me. I vouched to the Ophids on your behalf, and you’ve been bloody lying to me!” This was no longer a conversation between a boss and his employee, if it ever had been, but that of a man betrayed and the woman who’d done it.

“I needed a job,” Fatima said simply. “And I didn’t think it mattered.”

“How ever could it not matter?” His mind flicking back to that morning, when he’d briefly spied a marking on her collarbone, the Warden of Serpents let another strangled laugh. “It’s a brand, isn’t it? On your skin?”

“It is,” she confirmed thinly. “You can imagine why I don’t like to share it with the world.”

“Because of bounty hunters?”

“Because I hate it. Because my entire life it was a stark reminder that, as much as my father doted on me, in the end I was still his property. My closest connection to his House the fact that I had its sigil burned into my skin.”

It was a raw moment of vulnerability on her part, and both Fatima and Costa took mutual steps back from one another. Silence unfurled between them, inhabiting the air like a smothering weight, and it took the Warden of Serpents a good, long moment to dare to break it again.

“The masters of Mzia and Courdon don’t make a habit of letting any of their slaves ago. Let alone powerful magician ones,” he said then.

“No,” agreed Fatima. “They don’t.”

“But your father let you.”

“He’s one of those lightning strike mages,” she said by way of response. “No known magic in his ancestry, and so he was unexpected. A surprise. As far as he tells it, he grew up feeling like an outsider in his own family. Their shiny toy. He married a non-magician. None of his legitimate children had any magic. So when my mother had me…” She let her eyes fall to the floor. “He refused to condition me. He trained me as he would a true daughter. But people talked, Constantine. They judged. A mirza is the grandson of a sultan; his father-- my grandfather-- was an emir, a prince. The emir did not approve of how my father treated me, and he regularly threatened to tell the sultan.”

“And what would have happened then?” Costa asked, a knot in his throat.

“I think,” Fatima said, bringing her eyes up to meet Costa’s gaze once again, “that the sultan would have killed me, Constantine. So you can see why my father chose instead to send me north.”

“You should have told me, Fatima,” Costa said.

“Why?” she asked. “So that you could have pitied me? So that you could have run and told your Ophids about my dirty blood? In Mzia, I never fit in. I was certainly not a royal, but my father favoured me so much that of course none of the other slaves wanted anything to do with me. Not even my own mother, after a point. But here? Here, I could be anybody. I could be nobody.”

“That’s why you picked Smith,” Costa said slowly. “For your surname.”

She tempered a small, dark smile. “It is.”

“Why didn’t you get rid of ‘Fatima’, too?”

“It was all I had left of myself, Constantine,” she said. Then, softer, sadder: “It was all that I had left.”

[Avery]

Let's travel back in time to the year 1275. \o/ This actually does not take place in Elacs, but since there are SNAKE PEOPLE involved, well, figured it fits here. 8D Collab with Shinko.

A Snake out of Water: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

When the messenger arrived on horseback one balmy July morning, bearing with him a wrinkled scroll of parchment sealed by the wax likeness of a coiled snake, Lord Bryn Steller of Eirlys, Albion rather thought the poor blighter must have ridden very far off his course.

“Websteros,” the lord told the windswept courier, bushy ginger brow furrowed. “I think this must be meant for Websteros. House Brachyura. Not us.”

“No, my lord.” Standing in the drafty stone foyer of the Stellers’ seaside manor house, the messenger bowed his head. “Your knight who received me and bade me entrance said the same. But it’s for you. I am certain of it.”

Frowning, Bryn glanced again at the serpent-shaped stamp. It was saffron-gold and elaborately detailed, down to the slightly roughened texture of the tiny, diamond-shaped scales. A flourished ‘O’ hovered above it, dimpled where the wax had dripped. O. Ophid. A House he’d never given two thoughts about in his life, and which up until this moment he would have guessed unaware of his own House’s very existence. Eirlys, wedged in the far northwestern corner of Albion amid rocky cliffs and pine forests, was virtually a world away from Copperhead. Bryn, who hadn’t ever been further south than Avia in Rindfell, could hardly even fathom it.

“My lord?” The courier cleared his throat, hesitantly. “If you may sign that you’ve received this…?”

Bryn snapped up his gaze, tucking the suspect scroll into the pocket of his vest as he did. “Aye,” he said. “As long as you’re very sure this message hasn’t gone astray.”

“I am entirely sure, my lord,” the courier said.

Bryn still wasn’t—but he signed nevertheless, the letter feeling like a stone weight in his pocket as he scratched his quill against the messenger’s ledger. A quarter-hour later, as he stood alone in his private study after seeing the courier back out the manor gates, his hand was unsteady—almost tremulous—as he used a smooth-edged dagger to slice through the thick wax of the Ophid seal. Assurances aside, part of Bryn continued to expect that he would find the scroll misdelivered, with Lord Brachyura’s name winking up from its greeting rather than his own.

His doubt was misplaced.

The courier was right: this letter was meant for him.

Which didn’t, of course, make its contents at all easier to believe. Bryn read the message once, twice, three times and then again. His incredulity didn’t assuage any. His stomach fluttered like a child seeing snow for the first time, and then for good measure he brought his emerald green eyes back to the top for a fifth thorough read-through.

Only then did Bryn roll the parchment up again. As though he didn’t dare to let it out of his sight, he tucked it back into his vest pocket and patted it down flush. His heart beat against it as he started out the study, his footsteps thudding hollowly against the cool stone floor beneath. He almost forgot to shut the door behind him, and it occurred to him that he couldn’t even remember what he’d been doing before the courier showed up. Whatever it was, it seemed to matter very little now.

Bryn found his wife in her favoured sitting room; Ceri, her flint-coloured eyes underscored by heavy black bags, sat nestled beneath a plush throw as a chunky, red-haired infant clung to her like a tick to a dog. The boy, nearly six-months-old, had been fighting off a summer ague for nearly a week, and he squalled incessantly unless his mother held him. Not his nurse, not his older sister, not even Bryn: only Ceri.

The lord of Eirlys knew that he should greet her. That he ought to smile sympathetically and ask how she was doing—how the baby was doing—and feign at small talk before launching into what had driven him here. But he found such words stuck in his throat.

Instead, he merely dropped onto the sofa beside her. “Ceri,” he said.

She frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He paused, hesitant, and brought a hand to his forehead. “At least, I think nothing’s wrong.”

“You’re pale,” Ceri accused. “And I don’t like that look in your eyes, Bryn.” A beat. “What is that look in your eyes?’

He sighed. “That would be confusion.”

“Confusion over what?”

“I received a letter,” he said. “From Elacs.”

“Elacs?” Ceri asked. “Who do you know in Elacs?”

“No one.” Bryn hesitated again, before he made himself blurt: “It was from House Ophid. Lord Ophid.”

“Lord Ophid?” Ceri frowned and shifted the baby, who let out a raspy squawk of protest. Hushing him, she continued, “Since when have you known Lord Ophid?”

“I don’t,” Bryn said. “That’s why I’m so confused, Ceri.”

“Aye, well.” She pursed her lips, expectant. “What’s he want from you?”

“That’s just it,” Bryn replied. “He doesn’t want anything. In fact, as far as I can tell… he wants to give us something.”

“Oh?” Ceri asked. “And what’s that?”

“His daughter,” Bryn said. It sounded even stranger voiced aloud.

At his side, Ceri laughed, as if Bryn had just told an excellent joke. Then when she realized that her husband wasn’t laughing along with her, the sound died abruptly in her throat, and she narrowed her pale blonde brow. Barely even noticing as the baby tugged on a lock of her hair, the lord’s wife leaned forward, now sharing in her husband’s vast confusement.

“What do you mean by his daughter?” Ceri demanded. “I’ve heard more rational things uttered by drunken sailors in the gutter, Bryn.”

“Aye,” Bryn agreed. “But I’ve read the letter a half-dozen times, Ceri. It’s no joke. Lord Ophid has a daughter. She’s seven.”

“Around Shelby’s age,” said Ceri. This was her and Bryn’s middle child, and heir.

“Thereabouts, yes,” Bryn said. “As far as the letter tells it, she’s been having… issues in Copperhead. Something to do with a fear of snakes.”

“An Ophid fearing snakes? That’s like a fish being afraid of water.”

“Well, apparently she’s that fish.” Bryn shrugged.

“I still don’t see,” Ceri said, “how an Ophid child afraid of snakes has anything to do with us, Bryn.”

“Because, Ceri, what don’t we have a lot of in Eirlys?”

She cocked her head, not bothering to answer. “So he’s just going to drop her off here, like a stray puppy he’s found on the road?” she said. “And what, we’re expected to just… take her in?” Ceri sounded nearly offended. “What does he think-- that because we’re a raindrop in the ocean compared to him that we’ll just… gather up his broken parts? We don’t even know him!”

“Ceri.” Bryn cringed as the baby, unsettled by his mother’s sudden irritation, let out a hoarse cry. “You’re jumping to conclusions. That’s not what he expects.”

“Oh?” She stroked the infant’s hair. “Then what does he expect?”

“We take her in,” Bryn said. “Educate her. Raise her up. And in exchange…” He met his wife’s still-simmering stare. “In exchange, in addition to a stipend to cover some of her expenses, the girl marries Shelby once they’re both of age.”

“Marries Shelby!” Ceri echoed, incredulous. “Dear Woo, Bryn, he’s six!”

“And one day he’ll need a wife.”

For a moment, Ceri said nothing. The lord’s wife merely gnawed on her lip and rocked the baby in her arms, the weight of what Bryn had just told her slowly sinking into her mind like an anchor into the depths of the lashing sea. He said nothing in turn, watching her as she mulled, his fire-red hair almost luminescent beneath the sunlight that crept in through the sitting room’s plate glass window, which looked out onto the shale cliffs that gave way to a white sand beach below.

Finally, Ceri locked eyes with him, and said only: “What are you going to tell him, Bryn?”

“Eh? Who?”

“Lord Ophid, of course,” she said, very slowly and very firmly, as if she were lecturing an absent-minded child. “You have to respond to him, correct? And when you do, what are you going to tell him?”

“He’s a major lord, Ceri,” Bryn replied. “His domains a kingdom all their own compared to our craggy estate on the frozen sea. His political connections and power a mammoth to our cockroach.”

“And?”

“And what do you think?” Bryn said. “I’m going to tell him yes. By Woo, of course I’m going to tell him yes.”

**

It all came together surprisingly quickly, messengers and scrolls lofted between Eirlys and Copperhead like a round stone between two eager children playing catch. The initial letter had reached Albion in the second week of July, and by the start of September it was all said and arranged, the youngest daughter of Lord Sebastian Ophid and his late wife set to arrive by ship to the Port of Eirlys by the first of the October snows, before the sea grew too icy and volatile. Her escort, one of Lord Sebastian’s brothers, would stay with the girl at the Steller estate for only a few days-- just long enough to make sure that Bryn was satisfied that she was as described in the contract, and for House Ophid to glean assurance that she would be safe in the Stellers’ custody. If everything went according to plan, the child would be a ward of Bryn’s by the start of November.

It all seemed quite spectacular, still. And so very, very odd. For a lord of Sebastian’s caliber and station to send a daughter to the arctic backwoods of Albion in order to marry the heir of a House that usually considered itself lucky to snare daughters of even other minor lords (Ceri, for example, was the child of a vice admiral in the king’s navy) felt like the construct of some marvelous fever dream.

Part of Bryn expected that there would be something hideously wrong with the girl. The contract already mentioned an old foot injury-- described as ‘deforming but not crippling’-- and the lord of Eirlys spent many a long hour puzzling over what that quite meant, and if there wouldn’t be something else in addition, and if he hadn’t just fallen prey to some elaborate Ophid scam. What if she was a menace? What if she was sickly? What if she was in fact illegitimate, or mentally deficient, or cursed?

By the time the ship carrying the girl and her uncle arrived to Eirlys’s harbour three days after the season’s first snow, Bryn had worried himself into an anxiety-fueled sickness of his own. As he, Ceri, and a small contingent of Steller knights waited on the icy dock, the lord’s stomach was twisted into knots. His palms sweated beneath his lambskin gloves, and his always-pale skin had gone nearly as chalky as the dusting of snow that stippled the overcast landscape.

“You’re jittery as a cooked frog,” Ceri murmured, threading her arm through his.

“Aye.” Unable to deny it, he swallowed hard as he watched the small wooden dinghy holding the heavily bundled up Ophid party row steadily toward the dock. It had taken them an awfully long time to lower it into the water from the bigger ship’s bow, each second of which had been agony for Bryn. Tugging out of Ceri’s hold, he grumbled, “I can’t even see the girl. Can you see the girl?”

“They’re all wearing so many layers, they barely even look like people,” Ceri said. Nevertheless, she nudged her chin at a hunched over figure in the middle of the skiff, which was noticeably smaller than the rest. “Probably that one,” she guessed.

“I wish they’d row faster,” Bryn said simply.

Ten nail-biting minutes later, the dinghy reached the salt-worn dock, and one of the oarsmen hopped out to lash it to the bollard. Bryn forced a deep breath-- and a cordial smile to his face-- as he started forward, bowing his head as he reached the off-loading party. At his side, Ceri curtsied. Not knowing who was whom inside the boat, neither of them dared meet anyone’s gazes.

“Welcome to Eirlys,” the Steller lord said. “It is an honour to receive you, Lord Ophid.”

“Thank you, Lord Steller,” the sharp-gazed Ophid replied. Under the furs on his head, dirty-blonde hair was just visible, framing eyes like chips of pale blue ice. “I am Lord Gervase Ophid. I believe you have corresponded at some length with my brother Sebastian. It is an honor to finally meet you.”

These words carried absolute diplomatic neutrality. If there was any false flattery in them it wasn’t apparent, despite the fact that no highlord within his right mind would’ve found visiting Eirlys or the Stellers an “honor.”

“And this,” he went on, gesturing to the much shorter figure who flanked him at the right, “is my niece, Morwen.”

The child bobbed in an approximation of a curtsey, though her gaze was trained firmly on the ground so not much of her face was visible. Tiny wisps of blonde hair, so pale it might’ve been snow but for the faintest yellow sheen, trailed across her forehead, the only real glimpse of the girl under the furs. Her uncle cleared his throat meaningfully, and the small girl gave a slight flinch before murmuring in a barely audible voice, “Pleased to meet you, m’lord and m’lady.”

She sounded like an apparition: a haze of delicate breath and sound. Every fear that had been floating through Bryn’s head over the last two and a half months seared to the top of his mind, and he forced it desperately away. Beside him, Ceri only smiled, curtseying again as if by a mere lack of knowing what else to do. This was the first highlord she’d ever met; on business Bryn had always gone east to Websteros, not the other way around, and Ceri had never accompanied him.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both, Lord and Lady Ophid,” Bryn said, slowly bringing his head up from its bow. “I do hope your journey north was uneventful?”

“As calm as ever one could wish,” Gervase replied smoothly. “Though the little one was quite wearied- she’s never been on so long a journey before. I imagine she is glad to have solid ground under her again, aren’t you Morwen?”

The girl nodded mechanically. She muttered something not quite audible, prompting her uncle to clear his throat again. Pitching her voice louder- it emerged as a terrified sounding squeak- she repeated, “I s-saw dolphins in the water. They were pretty.”

“No one asked you about the dolphins,” Gervase retorted, making the girl duck her head even further.

Through the corner of his eye, Bryn caught Ceri tensing and clenching her jaw at the Ophid’s pointed tone, and preemptively, the Steller lord reached out and hooked an arm over her shoulder, drawing her close. The last thing he needed right now was for Ceri to make a huffish comment. Even if he still had doubts screaming through his head about the legitimacy of this entire arrangement-- not at all assuaged by the frazzled bundle of furs fidgeting before him-- he hardly wanted everything to fall apart at the thirteenth hour because of something his House did.

“I’ve always wanted to see dolphins,” Bryn said carefully. “They don’t range this far north.” With another brief bow, he turned toward the shoreside of the dock. “We’ve a carriage waiting not far from here,” he continued. “And hot drinks and refreshments prepared at our home. If you’d like to follow me, Lord Gervase, Lady Morwen?”

“Certainly, Lord Steller,” Gervase replied. He stepped briskly towards their hosts, Morwen falling into step behind him and two knights in Ophid livery flanking them on either side. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

As the two of them drew closer to the Stellers, Morwen glanced up towards them for the briefest of moments, catching the gaze of Bryn and revealing a pair of blue-green eyes clouded with fear just above the scarf around most of her face. Fear and something else. A dull, leaden despair that was better suited to the face of a dismal, starving orphan on the street than a young girl raised in the luxury of a highlord’s castle. She broke the contact a second later.

Inside the carriage, with Ceri and Bryn seated facing Morwen and Gervase, a terse silence quickly unfurled between the two parties of near-strangers. Bryn felt suddenly very conscious of his city’s twisting, ice-slicked roads, which sent the carriage lurching as it rumbled back toward the Stellers’ clifftop manor, the expansive grounds of which overlooked the rest of the frigid city. It had never seemed like a far journey before, not in the hundreds-- maybe thousands-- of times Bryn had made it, but in this moment it felt like a lifetime.

And this quiet was going to swallow him whole; finally, Bryn cleared his throat and ventured, “You are Lord Sebastian’s youngest brother, if I do recall, Lord Gervase?” It was a very neutral thing to say. Or at least, Bryn hoped it was a neutral thing to say; he had no desire to test the Ophid lord’s already-apparent temper.

“Indeed,” the man replied neutrally, turning to face his host. “I usually act in the office of steward in Copperhead. We have two other brothers- one is a knight in the king’s service, and the other serves as reeve in one of the major port towns along the coast of Elacs.”

The mention of the king made Bryn want to cry; the lord didn’t think he himself-- forget about one of his brothers-- would be qualified to polish the monarch’s boots, let alone serve in his royal guard. All along Bryn had known that he was dealing with someone mountains above his station, but such a truth had never felt more conspicuous than it did right now. Which only made the little girl all the more puzzling: since boarding the carriage, her gaze had never once left her lap. Tendrils of dove-white hair escaped her hood and she wore them like a concealing veil before her face. She reminded Bryn of a cowed and scolded servant, not a child whose singular blood was richer than his entire family’s put together.

“What esteemed professions,” Bryn forced out, looking back toward Gervase. He could have offered the occupations of his own siblings-- he had two brothers with officerships in the king’s navy, and a sister married to a wealthy fur trader-- but he didn’t see the point. It would be like bragging about your slice of bread to a man who owns an entire bakery. “And Lady Morwen,” he said instead. “She’s Lord Sebastian’s youngest, I’ve been told? After Lord Melvin and several other daughters?”

“She is,” Gervase confirmed. “Morwen was named for her mother, who tragically died giving life to her. Understandably her… condition has been a knife in my poor brother’s heart.”

Her condition. For a split second Bryn’s heart lurched, and he wondered if the girl might indeed have some horrific disease the contract hadn’t disclosed, but then with a start he realized that Gervase was merely referencing her alleged fear of snakes. Bryn wanted to laugh, clenched his jaw instead, and pretended not to notice as Ceri, galled, bristled beside him. Since the beginning of talks, his wife had found the entire situation outlandish bordering on absurd. Sardonic metaphors about water-hating-fish aside, the woman simply couldn’t fathom the idea of choosing one’s pets over one’s child. And the way Gervase had been treating his niece since their arrival had seemingly done little to improve the woman’s assessment.

“If it’s such a knife, then why didn’t Lord Sebastian come to deliver her himself?” Ceri said, a bit too shrilly; next to her, Bryn winced, even more so as his wife tartly continued, “Poor dear. You must already miss him terribly, Lady Morwen.”

Gervase frowned, and Morwen flinched from Ceri rather as if she’d been slapped. Clenching her tiny, gloved fingers into the fur of her coat, she whimpered, “I’m bad, he t-t-told me not to yell, but I did I was scared and I’m bad! I don’t want to go in the vivar-”

“Shhh!” Gervase shushed sharply, putting a hand over both of the little girl’s. “You’re not going in the vivarium, Morwen, not ever again. Please, if you want to be a good girl you need to be nice for Lord and Lady Steller!”

The child only shook her head, shivering hard. Ceri gaped at her and Gervase both, shocked into silence, as Bryn only barely managed to keep from poking his head out the carriage window and demanding the coachman turn back around toward the harbour. He hadn’t ever seen a child like this before-- so hot and cold, frantic and despondent, volatile as a stormy sea. She was as delicate as a snowflake on a windowpane, alternately cowering and gibbering, her composure crumbling with an unnerving degree of quickness over nothing. A fear of snakes. That’s what Lord Sebastian had told him. But this trembling waif of a child in front of him now? Although Bryn had known her for only minutes, he could already tell that there was something far more severe going on inside of her.

Desperately, ridiculously, Bryn almost hoped there’d be something else physically wrong with her, beyond the advertised foot (which, true to the contract’s promise, didn’t seem at all crippling). Then, at least, he could call the agreement null and void. He could huff and haw and send her back to Copperhead without losing much face. It would be unpleasant, sure. And the Ophids would not be pleased. But at least the onus would fall back on them, when all was said and done: highlords trying to pull a fast one on a man of much lower rank and blood. A pity, but not his pity. Not where it counted, in the scheme of things.

Seeming to notice his hosts’ reactions, Gervase looked up from his niece and frowned. “Is something the matter, Lord and Lady Steller?”

“Not at all, Lord Gervase,” Bryn lied, his throat dryer than a desert. Forcing a deep breath, he leaned forward to glance out the carriage window. “Almost there,” he said, which was another lie: in truth, they were only halfway. “Just a few more minutes, I’d say. And then we’ll be home.”

“Your new home, Lady Morwen,” Ceri said softly. “I do hope you like it.”

Bryn wanted to hiss to his wife not to get the child’s hopes up, but in such tight quarters, of course he could not risk such words. He forced a frozen smile instead, and wished with a sudden, nauseating melancholy that the long-ago letter hadn’t been meant for him at all.

A Snake out of Water: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

Bare of the cumbersome furs and skins, Morwen Ophid looked to be an ordinary enough child. Later that evening, after the displaced southerners had been thoroughly warmed from the road and Gervase thought it timely for Bryn to examine his prospective ward, Bryn desperately searched her, as if seeking out some nick or flaw that would mete the contract void. But as her uncle’s expectant gaze ate into the Steller lord’s back like lye, the man could find nothing. Her skin was creamy pale and unblemished, her eyes clear and bright even if they often fluttered with fear. Freed from the fur-trimmed hood, her white-blonde hair fell to just beneath her shoulderblades in straight but frizzy locks, thick as a dog’s winter coat. These were not the brittle tresses of a sickly child, and neither was the pink flush to her round cheeks. Fragile as she might be on an emotional level, to outward appearances Morwen was almost maddeningly healthy.

There was only one matter left to address, then. One last opportunity for Bryn to find a fatal flaw.

“Her foot,” the Steller lord said to Gervase. “I’d like to see her injured foot, my lord.”

The Ophid lord nodded curtly, turning to the child. “Morwen, show Lord Steller your foot please.”

Morwen, by now thoroughly overwhelmed after being examined like a questionable heffer at the market, quailed visibly. “N-no. Please Uncle Gervase, I-”

“Morwen, it wasn’t a question,” he said brusquely. “Be a good girl and show the nice man your foot.”

“B-b-but it’s ugly!” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head. “It’s why I’m bad! Everyone says so, it’s why the snakes had to go away and, and they hate my foot and-”

Gervase strode towards the girl, pulling her chin up sharply so that she was forced to look up at him. “Morwen, be a good girl and do as you’re told. Don’t make me say it again.” Glancing towards the Stellers he added apologetically, “I’m sorry, she is not normally so fractious. I assure you this is quite out of her normal character.”

Based on what he’d seen so far, Bryn quite wanted to contest this, but he refrained. “No worries, Lord Ophid,” he forced out. “Perhaps she’s merely tired from the long trip.” Turning his gaze to Morwen, he said with much more patience than he felt, “I just want to take a quick look, Lady Morwen. It’ll only take a few moments, I promise.”

The child, looking thoroughly cowed now, sat down with a soft thump on the floor and unlaced her boot. Gently prising it off, she revealed an ordinary enough black stocking. As the cotton was pulled away, an ordinary enough pinkish foot slowly came into view.

Until the last of the cloth came away from her toes.

Morwen Ophid was missing the last three toes on her right foot, the clear incision line showing where they had been amputated. But far more distressing was the scarring of the surrounding skin tissue. Not the pink of healthy skin, or even the faint red of a normal scar- no, these were ugly, raised black welts that looked almost like bruises or scabs. The girl had certainly not been exaggerating when she described her foot as “ugly.”

Standing over her, Bryn let out a sharp hiss of air, unable to help himself. Feeling a surge of nauseous gratitude that he’d rejected Ceri’s wheedling requests to attend this examination, he crouched slowly down so that he could get a closer look. Deforming but not crippling. He had never quite understood exactly what was meant by such a statement, but now it made a new kind of sense. These were macabre marks, the amputations almost the least offensive of them, and even if they didn’t impede the child’s mobility overmuch, from an aesthetic level they were impossible to ignore.

“Will it ever heal more, Lord Gervase?” Bryn asked cautiously. Then: “What even caused this?” Frostbite could look similar, but he had a niggling feeling the child had not found herself facing such a malady in the warm plains of Elacs.

The man sighed softly. “Unlikely- the marks are already four years old.” Clenching his teeth somewhat he growled, “This is why we do not normally allow any but our trained reptile handlers to remove the venomous species from their habitats. But as I’m sure you know, teenagers are brash and convinced of their own immortality. One of her siblings was enraptured by our then newly acquired Mzian cobra. The fool snuck it out of the vivarium and into the family’s personal wing. It slipped away, and found her in the nursery. Frankly she’s lucky she didn’t lose the whole foot- once a cobra bites, the skin rots very quickly.”

“It hurt,” the girl whimpered. “My foot hurt, then everything hurt.”

“I can imagine.” Bryn swallowed.

So that then, he realized, explained the child’s fear of snakes-- but still not the entirety of her skittish and capricious disposition. Rising to his feet again, the Steller lord looked to her uncle, his heart dropping into his stomach like a coin into a fountain as it dawned on him that he’d run out of physical flaws to find. True, the foot was morbid, but it wasn’t anything more severe than had been described to him already. If he turned her back to Copperhead because of it, the Ophids would be furious, and rightly so.

Desperately cobbling for some excuse, Bryn said to Gervase, “Does it require any special care, my lord? Ointments or creams or…?”

“It might need some basic lotion or oiling in the cold,” he replied. “Just to keep the skin from drying out. But nothing excessive, and certainly nothing more than one might need for ordinarily cold-chapped skin.”

“I see.” One pretext whittled away. “And it… can’t spread, right? The flesh rot?”

Gervase frowned. “Certainly not. The venom has long since been removed from her body, or she wouldn’t still be standing here. What you see is scarring, nothing more.”

Morwen, through this questioning, was staring at her ruined foot quite as if it had just stolen her favorite toy. Her blue-green eyes clenched, and she whimpered, “Everyone hates me ‘cause of my foot. Everyone. It’s-” her voice hitched roughly. “It’s wh-why I didn’t… didn’t…”

Her uncle sighed, reaching down with surprising gentleness and pulling the girl to her feet. “I think Morwen has endured enough for one day. Perhaps she should retire for the time being? Unless you had more questions?”

Bryn was politically savvy enough to know that, despite Gervase’s mild tone, this was not a request. Automatically, he dipped his head into a bow. “Of course, my lord,” the Steller said. “I would not wish to keep the young lady awake past her tolerance. Do you remember where your chambers are, or shall I show you the way?”

“I think I can find it, you need not trouble yourself Lord Steller,” Gervase replied. “I’ll put her to bed then. Good night.”

With that the Ophid turned, his niece now sobbing brokenly into his shoulder as he carried her down the hall. Bryn watched them go, impertinent, and only once they’d disappeared around a bend in the corridor did he let out the breath he hadn’t even known he’d been holding. With the chance of finding a bodily fault gone now, if the Steller lord wished to back out of this arrangement at the last second, then all blame and impropriety would rest with him, not the Ophids. It would be a political nightmare, and one that he wasn’t entirely sure he could afford. True, up here in Eirlys he had little reason to ever deal with Elacsite lords. But gossip spread. Rumors festered. Sometimes Bryn felt like he lived in a world unto his own, but despite his estate’s relative isolation, the Steller lord still knew such an impression was little more than an illusion, and that little lords like him could not stand alienating mighty lords like Sebastian Ophid. Sending Morwen back to Copperhead would be effectively announcing that he, a guppy in a pond of sharks, had been invited to parlay with the predators and promptly decided himself too good for them.

Bryn would have once found such a thought laughable. Now, it merely made him a little queasy and very shaky, his entire body trembling slightly as, with the Ophids gone, he headed back to his own chambers.

Ceri was awake in bed, her stormcloud eyes latching onto him at once. “You look like the ‘Pit,” she said without preamble.

“I feel even worse.” He shut the door.

“The examination not go well?”

“It was fine,” Bryn said.

“What about her foot?”

“Unsightly,” he admitted. “But it’s mostly cosmetic. Nothing that impacts her viability as a wife for Shelby.”

“That’s good, then,” Ceri said. An edge to her tone, she added, “Why don’t you seem happy?”

“Why don’t I seem happy?” Bryn laughed. “Woo, Ceri-- did you even meet the same child that I did?”

“Aye.” She frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She’s… she’s…” She was what? “Moody,” he sputtered. “Terrified. She looks like a rabbit the second before a wolf tears out its throat.”

“That uncle of hers is a prat,” Ceri announced.

“I can’t entirely blame him,” Bryn said. “Not with how she was acting.”

“Ever stop to consider that maybe that’s why she was acting like that?” Sharply, Ceri leaned forward, her elbows digging her thighs. “If I had Lord Charisma yanking my chin every time I didn’t answer him quickly enough, I’d be sullen, too.”

“Ceri.” Bryn winced. “That girl is much more than sullen. She’s…” He let out a hiss of frustration. “Do you truly want her living here? Raised with Shelby and the baby? Destined as our son’s bride--”

“Oh, no you do not,” Ceri hissed. “Don’t you dare, Bryn.”

“Excuse me?” He gawped. “What have I even done? Pray tell, because I--”

“You’re considering sending her back,” Ceri growled. “Don’t you deny it.”

He didn’t, but his tone took on a defensive air as he returned, “I’d be crazy not to be considering it, Ceri. After how she’s acted today.”

“I have no idea what in the ‘Pit that child has been through,” Ceri said. “The closest I can even think of is the boy my father showed up with once, when I was a kid. Quiet as a wraith. More skittish than a deer. He was a slave, Bryn. A Courdonian slave my father’s crew had found half-dead in a bog after he escaped his master.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic, Ceri.” Bryn sat heavily at the edge of the bed, his fingers unsteady as he fumbled with the laces of his boots. “She’s a highlord’s daughter. Not a Courdonian slave.”

“You’re not sending her back, Bryn,” Ceri said simply. “Forgetting the fact that even I know it would be political suicide-- you are not sending that child back to whatever situation turned her into such a wretched mess.”

“That’s not your decision,” said Bryn. “And it’s not our duty to fix a child we had nothing to do with breaking.”

“If you send her back,” Ceri hissed, “you will make an enemy out of each and every lord in Elacs, Bryn. Brachyura, too, if you’re not careful-- I’m quite sure that Lord Ophid is much more valuable to him than we are. And once you start making enemies of numerous highlords, well, they all talk, and before you know it, we’ll have the entire kingdom hating us.”

“Ceri--”

“I’m still talking.” She jabbed her finger toward him, sharply. “Still, Bryn, let’s forget about that,” she said. “Forget about all of it. Who cares about politics? Who cares about reputation? If you send that child back, you’re not just damaging our House. You are damaging yourself. As a person. As a good, caring person.”

“As I said, we didn’t break that girl--”

“-- and so what? It doesn’t matter who broke her. What matters is that she’s a child, she’s terrified, and not only can we help her, we have a bloody contract with a man who runs an entire province saying that we will! You’re overwhelmed. You’re stressed. I get it, Bryn, I do. But I’m fairly sure a great number of people in that child’s life have let her down already. Don’t make yourself the next entry on that list.” Stridently, she added, “Don’t make us the next entry.”

Part of Bryn wanted to argue more. Wanted to snarl at Ceri that she’d far outstepped her place and demand her silent in turn. But the words died unspoken on his tongue, bitter as ash. A lump knotted in his throat, and he didn’t bother to swallow it away.

“You have to be more careful around Lord Ophid,” he murmured simply. “Things like what you said in the carriage-- those can get us in trouble, Ceri.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

He met his wife’s glare. “I won’t send her back.”

“Good,” Ceri said. “Thank you.” Reluctantly, she reached forward and set a hand on his shoulder. “It’s the right choice, Bryn,” she told him. “I’m sure of it.”

The lord of Eirlys nodded his head, only wishing that he could share in his wife’s confidence.

**

Within the next two days, the last formalities were seen to, and soon it was time for Gervase to return to Copperhead, leaving his niece behind with the Stellers. Despite the fussy behavior she’d shown upon her initial arrival, for the most part during these proceedings Morwen was remarkably subdued. Frighteningly subdued even- far too biddable for a child her age, and lacking any of the energy or enthusiasm for play she should’ve had.

However, some of that terror finally started to resurface when her uncle, after giving her a hug, strode down the docks towards the boat that would take him out to the ship. She seemed to realize very suddenly that she was being left behind, and her small body started to quiver again.

“U-uncle Gervase!” she called after the man, but aside from a minute flinching of his shoulders he gave no indication he’d heard. The mooring rope was untied, and the small vessel moved away from the pier, only making the child more frantic and terrified. “Uncle Gervase! W-wait, where are you going? Come back, please I’ll be good!”

Half-fearing that the girl was about to plunge into the freezing water in pursuit of her uncle, Bryn reached out and clasped his gloved fingers over hers, gently but firmly. “It’s alright, Lady Morwen,” he said. Given that the child was now his ward, it felt strange and overly formal to utilize her title, but it would be a difficult habit to shake. “He has to go back to to Elacs, remember? And you’re staying here, with Lady Ceri and me.” He gestured with his free hand toward his wife, who stood at his other side.

The girl bit her lip, her eyes straining after the shrinking figure of her uncle’s boat. But finally, in an almost defeated way, she eased back, letting her hand slip more completely into Bryn’s. Morwen nodded, snuffling softly.

“Had t-to go away,” she whimpered. “Because I’m scared of snakes. Papa took away all the pet snakes and put ‘em in the vivarium ‘cause of me, and, and everyone hated me.” Looking down at her toes, she murmurred. “I’m bad.”

Shocked again-- Woo, this child was a neverending slurry of surprises-- Bryn could not think of anything remotely constructive to say; fortunately Ceri was either much quicker on her feet or merely more sympathetic as a whole. Reaching out to adjust the girl’s furred hood, the lady of House Steller gave Morwen a soft, reassuring smile, one Bryn had seen before a great number of times leveled toward their own children.

“Being scared of snakes doesn’t make you bad, sweetie,” Ceri said. “And if someone hates you because of it, that’s their own fault, I think.” Tenderly, the blonde woman wiped at Morwen’s tear-filled eyes. “Are you okay to walk, honey? Otherwise, Bryn can carry you.”

The girl looked surprised at Ceri’s touch, but quickly rubbed her face with a gloved hand. “I… I can walk, I’m okay Lady Steller.”

“You can call me Ceri,” the woman said. “No need for fancy titles. Is there something you’d like me to call you?”

“Um… Just Morwen’s okay,” she said timidly. “Is… is it true? You don’t have pet snakes? You don’t have a vivarium?”

“A vivarium?” Bryn couldn’t help but quirk a red brow, still not trusting to let go of the child’s hand. “No, we haven’t a vivarium. Or any pet snakes. Just dogs, and some cats. And our fifteen-year-old daughter-- you met her briefly last night, remember?-- has a ferret she bought from a Cerrish trader a while back.” More softly, he added, “You ever seen a ferret, Lady Morwen? It’s sort of like a cross between a cat and a possum.”

The young girl finally dredged her eyes upwards, looking into the faces of her new foster-parents. “Nuh-uh. I… I like cats. They’re cute. But Papa said we can’t have them, ‘cause if the snakes got out they’d eat ‘em.” She swallowed. “Can I… Can I touch the cats? Or the ferret?”

“Sure,” Bryn said. “Of course.”

He glanced back over his shoulder, toward the foot of the dock where the carriage waited, then back into the frothing sea. Gervase’s skiff was now but a bobbing blip in the distance, already more than halfway to the ship, and it hit the Steller lord like a slap to this face just how final all of this was. He was now this child’s guardian. This jittery, anxious, unpredictable child with a black-scarred foot and a fear of snakes so potent it had led her father to send her nearly an entire kingdom away, to live with near strangers. A few months ago if someone had told him this was to be his future, Bryn would have laughed openly in their face.

In the present, his stomach lurched. “We should go,” he said, and whether he was talking to Ceri, Morwen, or the Steller knights that accompanied them was not altogether clear. The little girl who was holding his hand tentatively inched closer to his legs, her small body trembling- not with fear, for once, but from the cold.

“‘Kay,” she said softly. In a small voice, as if afraid she’d be rebuked, she asked, “Can we go somewhere w-warm please?”

“The manor should be warm,” Bryn said, at the same time that Ceri nodded and told the girl: “What if we went to fetch a cup of tea?”

The Steller lord frowned, exchanging a frustrated look with his wife-- he had a neglected mountain of paperwork awaiting him back at home, and darned if she didn’t know it-- but Ceri only smiled sweetly at him. Gently, she draped a hand over Morwen’s shoulder.

“There’s this nice little tea-house not far from here,” the woman said. “Might not be as fancy as you’re used to, Morwen, but it’ll certainly be warm. Do you like tea, sweetie?”

The little girl looked up at Ceri with a very small, very shy, but unmistakable smile, which Ceri returned and which, Bryn noted somewhat distantly, was perhaps the first time he’d seen a flash of genuine joy in this child since her arrival two days ago. “Uh-huh; I like it black with honey and cim-no-min.”

“Alas, cinnamon is a bit difficult to get up here,” Ceri said, as Bryn sighed and started toward the carriage, leading Morwen along at his side. “But we can get you honey,” the woman continued, following after her husband and ward. “And maybe a biscuit, too, if you’re a good girl. Would you like that, Morwen?”

The girl nodded, her shy smile widening somewhat. “With nuts?” she asked.

“We’ll see what they have,” Bryn said, indicating the knights to follow as he, Ceri, and Morwen swept past the waiting carriage (the tea-house was close enough to walk). “But if they’ve got some with nuts, then sure.”

“Okay,” the girl replied. After a moment’s hesitation, she gave the lord’s hand a slight tug as if to get his attention. “Lord Steller I… I’m sorry. ‘Bout my foot. I know you don’t like it.”

Bryn glanced down at her, taken aback for what felt like the umpteenth time. “Your foot?” he said. “You... don’t need to apologize about your foot, Lady Morwen. It’s not your fault how it looks.” He paused, before amending this to: “It doesn’t matter how it looks.”

“It doesn’t?” she repeated, surprised. “I- oh.” She seemed to take a few seconds to digest this, then asked softly, “So you… don’t hate me?”

“Of… of course I don’t hate you,” Bryn said, incredulous. Did the girl confuse him often? Yes. Did the thought of raising her terrify him? Most certainly. But hate her?

Suddenly, all Bryn could think about was Ceri’s example of the escaped Courdonian slave. She can’t be that broken, he’d thought then. And while even now he doubted young Morwen had been through anything nearly so traumatic as escaping bondage, a cold pall of unease nevertheless roiled through his gut as it struck him fresh and anew just how badly something must have gone wrong in this child’s life for her to wind up in such a state. Normal children didn’t think that somebody would hate them over a scarred foot. Or not liking snakes. Or any other reason on the ever-increasing list Morwen had brought up thus far.

His throat tight, Bryn drew to a halt, letting go of Morwen’s hand so that he could turn and crouch before her. The toes of his boots crunching against the snow-dusted ground beneath, the lord trained his gaze on hers and said softly, “Lady Morwen, no one here is going to hate you, okay? Not me. Not Ceri. Not any of our children. Not-- not anybody. You don’t have to worry about that. Please, don’t ever worry about that.”

The little girl looked back at him confusion and disbelief in her blue-green eyes. “B-but… Papa said he didn’t hate me either. But he sent me away anyway. He… he wanted me to l-like snakes and, and he took me in the vivarium and held me and locked the door,” she sniffed, hugging herself. “He did it again and again, but I still, I still was scared, it was, it was scary, and I begged him to let me out but he said it was for my own g-good, but it didn’t work and, and I knew Papa hated me too, hated me because I d-d-don’t like s-s-snakes!”

“Morwen,” Bryn said, his voice steadier than he felt as he finally dispensed with her title. “Listen to me, please. I… I don’t know what happened with you and your papa in Elacs. But I’m sure he doesn’t hate you.” Except-- Woo, was he so sure? After watching this child’s reactions to things, watching how severely someone had broken her, the lord of Eirlys couldn’t entirely say. “And no matter what went on there,” he continued in any case, “believe me when I say that nobody here will hate you. Ever. We don’t have snakes, okay? No one will ever make you go into a vivarium again. I promise you, honey. I promise. But you have to trust me, okay? Me and Ceri and… and everyone here in Eirlys. We’re here to take care of you. And… and we will. But you just have to trust us, Morwen.”

The little girl was crying softly now, but she very slowly nodded. “O-o-okay. Okay,” she swallowed hard, rubbing her face to wipe away the moisture. “So… so if you don’t hate me, does… does that mean we can be f-friends?”

She looked directly into Bryn’s eyes desperation and loneliness writ plain on the seven-year-old’s face. Hoping that she couldn’t hear the manic beating of his heart, Bryn nodded and reached out toward her, lacing his fingers back through hers.

“Of course,” he said. “And Ceri will be your friend, too. Right, Ceri?”

A few steps behind her husband and the child, Ceri, previously frozen in something between shock and horror at Morwen’s outburst, forced a nod of her own, her blonde ringlets bouncing as she did. “You’ll have lots of friends here, Morwen,” the woman said. “I promise.”

The little girl’s taut muscles seemed to loosen, and she gave the Stellers a shaky smile. The little girl held out her hand to the two, holding out her pinky finger. “Promise.”

Bryn returned the gesture, and so did Ceri, before slowly the Steller lord rose to his feet. Pulling Morwen in tight against him as he turned back toward the direction of the tea-house, Bryn let out a gusty sigh.

“Tea,” he said. “Let’s get us all some tea. And you know, Morwen, since we’re friends now and everything, and you’re being such a brave girl about your uncle leaving-- what would you say to a scone and a biscuit? One from me, and one from Ceri. Our treat.”

Morwen looked up at Bryn and his wife with a wide, excited smile. Nodding enthusiastically she chirped, “Okay!”

She sounded like a normal child now, or at least a convincing impression of one; her gleaming grin and excitement were like something Bryn might have seen from his own kids. And it was infectious: he couldn’t help but shoot back a warm smile of his own. The lord of Eirlys still did not share his wife’s confidence in this entire gambit, not entirely; he knew it would not be easy. Woo, it would not be easy.

But at least this promise, this reassurance she’d accepted from him, was an initial step. The first brick set in what would hopefully one day be a solid, stable house. And while it would have been much simpler, at least in the emotional sense of things, to shove the girl back into the skiff alongside her uncle and pretend that none of this had ever happened, Bryn supposed that Ceri was right: Although it had not been them to break this child, that didn’t mean they couldn’t help to fix her. The right choice was not always the easiest one.

“Sounds like a plan then, Morwen,” Bryn said, as they started back down the lane. “Sounds like a perfect plan.”

[Avery]

Collab with Shinko. Takes place in 1362. =3 Featuring Jason Ophid, lord of the province, and his wife Sabrina Ophid nee Escalus, originally of Corvus and daughter of Catia and Linden Escalus (Because convoluted noble lineages, yes, that is the same Linden who is son of the charming Wynn Cressida =D). Good times will be had by all. \o/

Slippery: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

“Mummy, can I have it?” the small boy whined, his face pressed against the storefront’s cloudy glass window as he gazed wistfully inside. “I’ll be real good,” he added. “And I’ll take care of him all on my own. I could name him Balthazar!”

“How do you know it’s a ‘him’, Bradley?” commented the teenager at Bradley’s side, his pale blue eyes glimmering ruefully as he watched his little brother fidget. “Might be a girl. And then how’ll she feel with Balthazar as her name?”

“He looks a boy, Ben.” Bradley sounded almost offended as he took a step back from Ben-- and the window-- and turned toward their mother instead. “Mummy, please?” he repeated, his sandy blonde bangs flattened against his forehead. Patting the leather satchel he wore over his shoulder-- a birthday gift he’d received from his father the month before-- he needled, “I haven’t gotten a new snake for ages! And you already bought Bryanna a present.”

With this, Bradley lofted an almost accusing stare at the third child present, a girl with light brown hair, gray eyes, and much fairer skin than her younger brother. Standing at her rear, a trio of knights clad in the black and gold livery of House Ophid had to stifle impatient sighs; this was probably the dozenth time the boy had stopped to ogle at snakes in less than half an hour-- on what was meant to have been a relaxing stroll through Copperhead’s central marketplace. Instead, it had turned into a syncopated slog during which it had begun to seem as if young Bradley, who’d recently turned nine, was physically incapable of going more than thirty seconds without begging to stop and look at some serpent or another. The knights had already wrested a live, squirming, wild rat snake out of the child’s hands.

“I got Bryanna a snake armlet, because she got top marks in all of her lessons,” his mother Sabrina retorted. Like her younger son she was blonde of hair and bronze of skin, a token of her Courdonian grandmother. “You are not getting another snake, Bradley, and if you don’t drop it I will not hesitate to march us all straight home and inform your father that you’re acting like an entitled princeling instead of a properly decorus young nobleman.”

“If we have to go home because of Bradley again-” Bryanna muttered under her breath to Benjamin, leaving the threat hanging darkly.

Ben spared his little sister a sympathetic smile, wishing that he could reassure her in good faith that such a thing certainly wouldn’t come to pass today. Unfortunately with Bradley, nothing was ever so sure. As the heir to House Ophid, Ben himself had a thorough-- some would even say intense-- interest in snakes of all types; he’d been handling them since the time he could walk, and he spent at least a little time every day in Copperhead Castle’s expansive vivarium wing, merely watching the House’s scaled charges as they slithered about their habitats.

But compared to his younger brother, Ben might as well have been a neophyte when it came to snakes. Bradley didn’t merely like them; hell, he didn’t only love them. He was a boy obsessed, in such a way that even the House’s other snake aficionados could at times grow weary with his passion. To most, there was a time and place for serpents. To Bradley, that time was always.

“But Papa’s busy,” the child refuted shrilly. “That’s why he wanted you to take me and Ben and Bree out, isn’t it? He’s meeting with Lord Garter.” Of course Bradley remembered the name of the minor noble House that ruled the lands directly south of Ophid’s territory; they were named for a snake species, after all. But if you’d asked the boy which House sat on Kyth’s throne, he would have looked at you as though you were speaking Langean. “I won’t ask for a new snake after this for like, ever,” the boy went on. “Not ‘til Woomas!”

“Bradley, the answer is no,” Sabrina said. “Now drop it. Or you won’t be visiting the snakes we have in the vivarium for a week. We’re trying to have a nice time. Don’t make it miserable by acting miserable.”

Bradley let out a pathetic sniffle, as though he were a starving child whose portly mother had just deprived him a steaming heel of bread. “Fine,” he murmured, his lip wobbling. “I-I guess I’ll just watch as you buy gifts for everyone else.”

Her patience waning, Sabrina pinched the boy’s ear and gave it a sharp tweak. “Maybe if you would behave you would get gifts now and again. But I’m not going to reward you for being a sullen brat, Bradley.”

Bradley let out a tiny squawk of surprise, but he seemed to know better than to comment further. He fell silent as the Ophid party began to walk once again, trailing behind his mother, brother, and sister with his lips pursed and one arm crossed at his chest as he used the other to rub at his stinging ear. Ben would have spared him a supportive smile had he not known his little brother would only use it to feel justified in his whining, and so instead the Ophid heir roundly ignored the younger child, rather hooking his arm through Bryanna’s as they threaded into a more crowded part of the marketplace. He knew they were safe with the knights at their heel, but you could never be too cautious.

“Did you want to stop at the stall with those silk shawls, Bree?” Ben asked his sister. “I know last time you and I went out with Father, you spent twenty minutes fawning over them.” He grinned toward his mother. “Don’t worry,” he said. “She already knows she’s not buying any.”

Sabrina gave her oldest son a slight smirk. “Be nice, Ben,” she chided gently. “But certainly we can let Bree look for a bit if she wants. Just take care that you don’t rumple them too much, I’ve known Veresian merchants to declare wrinkled silks ‘damaged’ and charge for them.”

“I’ll be careful, Mum,” Bryanna promised, her eyes glittering with excitement as she stared at the stall in question. “Ooooh, look, that one has a design with spider lilies embroidered on it!”

The silk merchant bowed deeply to the Ophid party as it approached, the anticipatory look that bloomed on his face a sure sign that he had no idea they wouldn’t be buying. He was wise enough not to try any overtly aggressive sales tactics, instead making a great show of compliments and flattery, his voice a perfect measure of adoration as he draped a stunning blue number over Bryanna’s shoulders and declared it to be “perfect match for your complexion, my lady!”

“That may be so,” Ben agreed, wincing as he noticed the material crease. “But unfortunately, I think it’s a bit outside our price range today, sir. If you may remove it.”

The man complied, though with a slightly wistful expression and the assurances that he would be in town for a while if they changed their minds. As Bryanna continued to inspect the shawls, chattering animatedly at Ben, Sabrina hung back from the two with an indulgent smile. They were growing up nicely- Benjamin would make a fine Lord Ophid one day, and Bryanna would no doubt flourish wherever she ended up being married off to.

If only Sabrina could feel as confident about her second son. She glanced towards him ruefully-

To find that the space he’d previously been sullenly occupying lay empty.

She turned sharply, looking for Bradley, but there was no sight of the bronze skinned blonde child. “Bradley?” she called sharply, her voice carrying a note of anger, but no panic- yet.

Ben whirled back around sharply, as the three Ophid knights snapped to a near-panicked attention, hastily scanning the nearby area for any sign of their young charge. Surely he couldn’t have gotten too far. They’d only taken their eyes off him for a moment, after all-- just to watch the merchant a little more carefully to make sure that he didn’t become belligerent now that Ben had informed him the Ophids weren’t buying. And Bradley had been standing so docilely (for once). His eyes trained not even on the bustling marketplace around, but toward the cobbled ground beneath.

And now he was gone.

“Bradley?” Sabrina called again, fear edging into her voice now. She rounded on the nearest of the knights, her brown eyes blazing. “Where is he?”

“I’m sure he’s just hiding somewhere close, my lady,” the knight stammered, pale as a ghost. “We’ll have him back for you in a moment, I’m sure.”

“Oh Woo, that little idiot,” Bryanna whispered to Ben. “He better not get himself hurt, he’s nine and dressed like a noble, what if someone-”

“You’re not helping, Bree,” Ben hissed, watching in mute anxiety as two of the three knights fanned out to comb the immediate area, while the last stayed with Sabrina and her two older children. When they didn’t return after a minute or two, Ben swallowed the knot in his throat and took a step toward his mother. “Mum,” he said. “Are you alright?”

Sabrina’s hands were clenched into fists so tightly that her knuckles were going white. She didn’t even look down at Ben, and her jaw was clenched so tight it was doubtful that she could’ve spoken if she’d wanted to. After another minute passed in silence she declared, “I’m looking too.”

“M-Mum, what if he comes back and can’t find us?” Bryanna pointed out timidly. Her mother spun, absolute panic in her eyes.

“Your brother is missing! I’m not going to just stand here and-”

“Mum, you can’t go,” Ben interjected, raking an agitated hand through his hair. Auburn in most light, beneath the afternoon sun it looked almost fire-red. “We all need to stay here. In case he wanders back on his own. And you can hardly go off by yourself, but if you take Sir Sefton with you, then there’ll be no one here with Bree and me.”

“I…” Sabrina’s voice died in her throat, and she clenched her jaw again. Hesitantly Bryanna reached towards her mother and pulled her into a hug. Sabrina made no move to resist, hugging her daughter back with arms that shook. Ben stood impassively at his mother and sister’s sides, doing his best to channel his father’s practiced iron face despite the fear that churned in him like a violent sea.

It was another ten minutes of stark panic before a voice called out of the crowd. “I found him, m’lady! He’s alright!”

Sabrina’s head snapped up as one of the knights emerged from the crowd, toting with him young Bradley Ophid. Despite the sentinel’s vise-like grip over his arm, Bradley seemed rather unfazed by the spectacle he’d caused-- although when he saw the panicked, furious expression on his mother’s face, he suddenly balked, digging his heels into the stone ground below. It was a vain effort, because as soon as she caught sight of her erstwhile son Sabrina strode towards him, grabbing both his arms in an iron grip.

“Where the ‘Pit where you?” She demanded in a snarl. “Do you have no idea what could have happened to you wandering off by yourself like that? Haven’t I taught you better?”

Ben cringed-- he couldn’t ever recall seeing his mother so furious before-- but Bradley, for his part, merely writhed like the rat snake he’d plucked off the street earlier. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, steadfastly refusing to meet Sabrina’s scathing glare. “I just wanted to go see other stuff, silks are boring and--”

The boy was cut off as Sabrina slapped him- hard- across the cheek, whereupon he let out a louder, harsher whimper. She glowered at her second son, her voice like ice. “Now you will be going home, and you will see nothing but the walls of your own room. Your father and I will be having a very long talk about this, Bradley Ophid.”

Bradley said nothing, only snuffled as tears pricked in his eyes. His cheek stung, but with Sabrina’s hands still locked around his arms, he didn’t dare fight her to bring up a hand to rub it. A few feet over, Ben exchanged a dour, knowing look with Bryanna. In his entire life, the Ophid heir could only remember a handful of occasions where his mother had gone beyond a tweaked ear or cuffed chin. Woo, why did Bradley have to be so difficult? It were as though the boy had been born with a sharp tongue but absolutely no common sense.

Bryanna met Ben’s expression with one of tired exasperation. All that panic, and the idiot had sauntered back without a care in the world. She couldn’t blame her mother for hitting him- Bree rather wanted to smack Bradley herself.

The other knight who’d gone off looking for Bradley reappeared, and with his return Sabrina turned, all but dragging Bradley down the road. “We’re going home. Benjamin, Bryanna, come along.”

Mutely, Bryanna trailed after her mother, head held low to avoid drawing Sabrina’s ire further. At her side, Benjamin sighed, keeping his voice whisper-quiet as he leaned in toward his sister’s ear.

“How about we visit the vivarium when we get home?” he said. “Stay away from the main castle for a bit. At least until Father’s dealt with Bradley.”

“I’m all for that,” she hissed back. “I do not want to be anywhere near Mum or Dad for the rest of the afternoon- and especially nowhere near Bradley.”

**

Lord Jason’s fury toward his son upon learning what Bradley had done outpaced even Sabrina’s, and indeed the boy saw little else but the walls of his own bedchamber over the next two weeks. Even once the child was allowed to roam the castle again, it was with a strict banishment from the vivarium wing, and for good measure Jason also confiscated the child’s two personal snakes, removing their habitats from Bradley’s bedroom without any particular promise of when they might be returned. Predictably, the boy’s reaction to this was one of utmost despair bordering on fury. He staged a tantrum, was smacked for it (this time by Jason), and in the week that followed spent most of his time sullenly avoiding both of his parents-- which was at least marginally better than him needling them.

Sabrina was somewhat relieved that at least while Bradley was being punished he was less liable to cause her headaches and undue stress. It wasn’t as if the Lady of Elacs didn’t have enough things on her plate. Her four year old daughter Caterina and two year old son Desmond certainly kept her busy enough that she might’ve hoped her older children wouldn’t contribute to causing problems.

In fact only about three weeks after Bradley’s episode in the market, Desmond was being particularly cranky and resistant to going down for his daily nap- and consequently keeping Caterina up. The nursemaids and Sabrina both had to struggle with the boy for a good hour before he finally surrendered to lying quietly.

That trying task accomplished- finally- Sabrina decided to check in on her husband. Chances were he would be in his office doing paperwork that time of day, so she instructed the servants to have a pot of warm tea brought up for the two of them to share. As she walked through the wing where the family had their private residences- including Jason’s private office- she was so busy looking out the windows at the gardens that she failed to notice a slightly lumpy red shape on the red carpet at her feet.

At least until she almost stepped on it and it shot away from her and under a nearby curtain.

Sabrina gave a yelp of surprise that morphed into a shriek when she looked down and realized what she’d nearly stepped on. A snake. A red, yellow, and black banded snake. There were plenty such in the family wing, harmless milk snakes that were personal pets of Bryanna’s and Jason’s. But those had a banding pattern of red, black, and yellow. Though far from a snake expert when she’d first arrived in Copperhead, Sabrina had been forced to learn how to identify most common varieties of serpent. And she knew what she’d almost stepped on was no milk snake.

It was the almost identical, but highly venomous coral snake.

At the sound of his wife screaming, the lord of House Ophid shot out of his office like an arrow from a bow, flinging open the door with such intensity that it snapped against the wall behind.

“Sabrina?” He hurried down the hall toward his wife and, reading the panicked expression on her face, reached for the dagger he always wore at his hip. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Sabrina had a hand to her chest, her heart hammering wildly. Her eyes were wide and her pupils pinpricks of fear. Swallowing hard, she pointed to the curtain and managed to squeak, “I th-think there’s been an escape from the v-venomous wing of the vivarium Jason.”

Following the point of Sabrina’s finger, Jason scowled as his eye fell on the coral snake. “Stay still,” he instructed his wife, reaching into the chest pocket of his tunic to pull out a pair of leather gloves. Tugging them on, he took a cautious step forward, and with a practiced grace stooped over and snatched the serpent into his hand. Firmly holding its head away so that it couldn’t strike, the Ophid lord frowned. “Just a baby,” he said. “I didn’t think we had any coral babies right now.”

Sabrina frowned, folding her arms to still the quivering that they were still doing. “Could be wild? I know I saw wild coral snakes around Heleos as a child…”

“They don’t range this far north and east,” Jason replied as a pair of knights, drawn by his wife’s shrieks, hurried into the hall. “Fetch me the Warden of Serpents,” the lord demanded of them. To Sabrina, he clarified, “He’ll know for sure if it’s one of ours. Although if it’s not… Woo, where in the ‘Pit did it come from?” He gritted his teeth as the cranky neonate writhed in his expert grip.

“I’ve no idea,” she said with a frown. “It’s not like there are a shortage of snake handlers in Copperhead, but you need special permits to own venomous species, don’t you? And even more permits to breed them. I’d guess only a professional breeder would have all those permits.”

“Aye,” Jason agreed. “And he’s most definitely captive-bred, not wild-caught and imported. Notice his colouring, how uniform the bands are? That’s selective breeding. There are only a couple people in this entire city who could have produced him.” But that still didn’t answer the question of how, precisely, the young snake had gotten inside the Ophids’ personal living quarters.

“I’ll have to take your word on that,” Sabrina remarked dryly, trying to calm herself down with a crooked half-smile. “Your eyes are better than mine in that matter. Woo, I’m just glad his reaction to my almost stepping on him was to slither away instead of biting. Aren’t babies supposed to be even more dangerous than the adults? Something about not being conservative with their venom?”

“They can be feistier,” Jason agreed. “But I think this one might be a little cold. Fortunately for you.” The thought of his wife being bitten by a coral snake made the lord of Ophid want to let out his own terrified scream.

The Warden of Serpents, looking rather harried, arrived several minutes later, took one look at the juvenile in Jason’s hands, and immediately shook his head. “That’s not one of ours, my lord,” he said, bowing slightly. “We haven’t any nearly that young.”

“Take it,” Jason said coolly, offering the snake out to his employee; the man accepted it gingerly into his gloved hands. “Warm it up,” the lord went on. “See if it’s hungry. And then we’ll get to the bottom of who it belongs to.”

“I can’t imagine any of our Copperhead breeders being so careless.” The Warden frowned, marveling at the brightly lit serpent that was now twisting in his hands. “They could lose their license over this.”

“Given that my wife almost stepped on it, I should think they’ll be losing more than their license,” Jason growled. Waving a hand, he dismissed the Warden, who disappeared back down the hall without another word.

Sabrina watched the man leave with the snake, going slightly limp with relief once he was around the corner. “Sorry for shrieking like that, Jason. It just startled me.”

“Don’t apologize,” Jason said firmly, setting a hand on her shoulder. “It must have given you a terrible fright.”

She looked pensive. “I haven’t seen any corals that weren’t part of our collection in a while. I think the last time was when I went to the…” Her brown eyes widened, and she covered her face. “Oh Woo, no…”

“What is it?” the lord asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I just realized,” she said slowly, looking up at her husband with an aggrieved expression. “The last time I saw any coral snakes besides our own was the day I went to the market with Ben, Bree and Bradley a few weeks ago. The day Bradley went missing for about twenty minutes. Not long before that he’d stopped at a shop window to oogle at the snakes they had for sale and was whining for me to buy him one.”

The look that flared in Jason’s blue-green eyes was nearly murderous. “And he had that satchel, didn’t he? The one I gave him for his birthday?” He barked a short, furious laugh. “He didn’t have money, did he? Which means he stole it. Woo, why do I bet if I were to comb the city guard reports for that day, I’d find one of our permitted venomous breeders complaining of a stolen coral?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Sabrina snarled softly. “Woo, he’s lucky the cursed snake didn’t kill him! He’s nowhere near experienced enough to handle something that deadly, and he knows there aren’t any venomous breeds kept as personal pets in the castle anyway! And that he stole the snake on top of all that-”

She clenched her teeth taking a deep breath in before releasing it slowly. “Should we go see where our dear little boy has gone? I imagine he might be looking for his missing charge.”

“He should be in his arithmetic lessons about now. With Bryanna.” Jason steeled his jaw and threaded his fingers through Sabrina’s. “I do hope he has a lot to say for himself,” he hissed, starting down the hall. “Although I’m warning you now, if he gives me any lip, it’s not going to end well for him.”

Sabrina snorted softly as she followed her husband. “I If he gets lippy, I will not stop you from doing whatever you like to him. Woo knows we might just need to take drastic measures if we’re ever going to get through that thick skull of his!”

Slippery: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

When the lord and his wife entered the children’s study room a few minutes later, Bradley took one look at their respective faces before he hunched back over his parchment, pretending as if he hadn’t seen them at all. For her part, Bryanna glanced around and froze in momentary panic, wondering what had happened and just who was about to sorely regret something. The kids’ tutor, a grey-haired man who’d been around for so long that once upon a time he’d taught Jason and his siblings their arithmetic, too, read the look of wrath on the adults’ faces and gave a terrified smile and bow.

“My lord,” he said. “My lady. How may I help you?”

“We’d like a word with our dear son,” Sabrina said, though despite the lightness of her tone her face was like thunder. Bryanna’s gaze flicked to Bradley, wondering just what he’d done now.

“I’m still working on my numbers,” Bradley murmured, not daring to glance again at his parents. His long blond hair hung over his face in a concealing veil, and the way he hunched his shoulders made it appear as though he wished he could disappear into the floor below.

“You’re done with lessons for today,” Jason said curtly. “Come here. Now.”

Bryanna glared at Bradley hard, silently willing him to just… do as he was told for once. It was plainly obvious whatever had happened, he was not going to be able to talk his way out of it. If anything he was just going to make their parents more cross by trying. Indeed, Jason seemed to have had enough: when the boy only hesitated further, the lord of Elacs strode briskly across the room, hauling Bradley bodily to his feet. The quill he’d been holding tumbled from his hands, dribbling a smear of ink across the desktop.

“Fetch a cloth to clean that,” Jason ordered the tutor, before glaring down at Bradley. “You best cooperate now. Understood?”

The child only nodded, the inside of his cheek bit at his father marched him toward the door. Bryanna hurriedly returned to her arithmetic as if nothing was happening, and the last thing Sabrina saw before she closed the door was the tutor moving to clean up the ink.

They trio marched in silence through the halls of the castle until they reached the door that led to one of the Ophid’s lesser meeting rooms. Once they’d moved inside and closed the door, both parents rounded on their son.

“So,” Sabrina said, her voice deceptively soft. “Did you know that I almost died a few minutes ago, Bradley?”

“D-died?” Bradley stammered. As Jason finally dared let go of his son’s wrist, the boy rubbed at it, grimacing. “Why’d you almost die, Mummy?”

“Because there was a baby coral snake loose in the castle,” she replied grimly. “And I didn’t see it until I almost stepped on it.”

“A coral snake?” The boy went grey. “A b-baby coral snake?”

“Don’t you play stupid with us, Bradley,” Jason snapped. “So help you if you lie to me right now. Why did you take it? What were you thinking?”

“I… I thought he was pretty.” Bradley blinked back tears. “And Mummy bought Bree a gift, but she wouldn’t get me anything. And the shopkeeper wasn’t paying any attention, and I just…”

“Was the cage locked?” Jason demanded. The law said any habitat holding a venomous species had to be.

“Y-yes, Papa,” the boy whimpered. “But not magelocked. It was easy to b-break. If you jostled it right.”

Sabrina hissed softly. Bradley was the only one of their children, at least that they knew of so far, who had inherited magic from her Corvid ancestry. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the common sense to use it responsibly. “So you abused your magic to break the law and steal a very dangerous reptile because you were sullen that I got a piece of jewelry for your sister? Is that what I’m hearing?”

“It s-sounds bad when you say it like that,” Bradley sniveled. He was not bothering to hold back the tears anymore, clearly having gotten over any notion that he might somehow evade punishment. “I k-knew how to hold him so he wouldn’t bite,” the child offered. “It wasn’t dangerous--”

In an instant, Jason had lashed out a hand and taken a hold of his son’s ear, giving it a harsh yank. “Even if that were true,” the lord growled, not letting go, “and let me assure you, Bradley, that it’s not, and that you are well too young, brash, and inexperienced to know how to properly handle a venomous species-- you let it escape. Your mother almost stepped on it! What if Desmond or Cat had found it? Do you know how quickly a two-year-old could die from that?”

Bradley didn’t fight his father’s squeezing hold, only letting out a startled half-hiccup, half-sob. “I was going to find him after lessons today,” he gasped. “I was. No one was supposed to get hurt!”

Sabrina stiffened. “You already knew it was loose? And you just went about your day as normal? You knew there was a highly venomous snake somewhere loose in the castle and you… you…” The lady of Ophid seemed so incensed that she had no more words for just how disappointed she was in her son.

“How long was it loose, Bradley?” Jason said, his throat dry and hands literally trembling in rage. When the boy didn’t immediately respond, the lord hissed again: “How long?”

“Just since Saturday,” Bradley whispered.

It was presently Tuesday, and Jason wanted to scream. Abruptly, he let go of his son’s ear and turned away, as if he couldn’t even stand to look at the child. “Go to your bedchamber,” he said. “Now. Your mother and I will be in later to discuss your punishment.”

The boy didn’t have to be told twice; tears streaming openly down his cheeks, he brushed past his mother and father and flung open the door, hurrying off down the hall. Jason didn’t even bother to watch him go, in his raw rage merely gripping his hands into tight, quavering fists as he stared down at the floor beneath. His chest felt heavy, his head too light. Bradley had shown a dearth of common sense in the past, but this... this was something else altogether.

Sabrina slumped down into a chair nearby, burying her face in her hands. “Where did I go wrong? Woo above where did I go wrong? How could I have raised such a stupid, selfish, pig-headed little ingrate…”

“It’s nothing you did, Sabrina,” Jason said, pacing over to her side and running a still-trembling hand through her hair. “He’s been like that since the day he was born. Woo, do you remember when he was barely older than Desmond, and we found him in the nursery cuddling my milk snake that he’d stolen out of its cage in our room? I didn’t even think he was tall enough to reach it.” The lord sighed deeply, considering. “We’ll need to contact the merchant whom he stole it from. Make Bradley apologize, and we can offer recompense. But I don’t know what else to do with that boy. It’s like nothing gets through his head. Ever.”

The Ophid lady gave a soft moan. “I wish I had any idea. Nothing gets through to him, and any punishment that actually would upset him he sneaks around. Between the number of times he’s broken into the vivarium when he wasn’t supposed to be there and running off in the market, he’s become the foremost expert in making our knights look like incompetent bumblers.” She clenched her jaw, “But I definitely think you need to confiscate his wand. If he’s going to use magic to break the law then he doesn’t deserve to carry one. Maybe even suspend his magic lessons for a bit.”

“Consider it already taken away,” Jason said. “He can earn it back when he’s grown a brain. And if he wants to act like a common thief, then he can be treated like one. Prisoner’s rations only until we see any scrap of remorse from him.” This meant plain bread and water. “Do you have any additional ideas, Sabrina? I don’t think he’s earned any show of mercy.”

She folded her arms, looking conflicted. “If he was anyone but our son, he’d be flogged for this. As much as that snake he stole was worth? But…”

“I’m not going to drag him to the flogging post,” Jason said, quickly and firmly. But after a moment he hesitated, knowing that Sabrina was right; any commoner in his place, child or not, would have been striped in the city square without question. “I… could do it myself,” he said finally, a sour taste coating his tongue. “Not with a proper lash, of course, I wouldn’t do that, but…”

Sabrina whimpered. “N-no, please… We… we’ll think of something, right? Something that’ll get through to him? My cousin, he did something he got striped for, and it just gave him a martyr’s complex. We’ll… we’ll think of something.”

Forcing a deep breath, Jason nodded and reached down to squeeze his wife’s hand. The look of relief that had flooded over his face at her turning down his proposal was palpable. After all, no matter what Bradley had done, the idea of hurting his young son like that chilled him to the core. Thief or not, menace or not, it was a line that Jason didn’t want to bring himself to cross. Not now, and hopefully not ever.

“He’s a child,” the lord murmured after a moment “Not a monster. We’ll figure something out. We will. I know it. As for now, we’ll just… do the bare minimum rations, and he can stay in his bedchamber, and…” He shook his head. “We’ll arrange for him to make an apology to the merchant. It’ll work out, Sabrina. He’ll work out. We just have to stay strong. Together.”

She squeezed her husband’s hand back, desperation written plain on her face. “I hope you’re right Jason. I desperately hope you’re right.”

**

Four days later, a soft bell tinkled overhead as the lord of Elacs pulled open the door to Florrie’s Serpent & Supply and stepped inside, Sabrina at his heel with her hand clutched tightly over that of a very somber-faced Bradley. The shop proprietor, a whiskered man in his middle forties who presently had a chunky boa constrictor draped around his shoulders as if it were a scarf, took one look at the nobles and promptly went pale as a sheet. After all, normally if the House was in the market for a new snake, it would send a runner in advance to sweep the local sellers’ inventories so that the nobles did not waste their time. Unannounced visits were rare-- and usually meant far less pleasant things than a lucrative sale.

“My lord,” the man, presumably Florrie, breathed, bowing his head. “How may I assist you?”

“I believe,” Jason replied, “that I have something that belongs to you, Master Florrie.” He nodded behind him at one of the accompanying Ophid knights, who had a tightly cinched burlap sack in his hand. “Juvenile coral snake, in fact. Sound familiar?’

“Aye.” The man brought his head back up as he paced over to a vivarium in the corner, into which he set the boa constrictor. “Went missing a few weeks ago. Someone busted the lock, my lord. With magic, it looked like. I filed a report with the city guard-- followed every stroke of policy, I assure you.”

“I’m aware.” Jason glanced back toward Bradley and beckoned his son forward. “Come here,” he ordered. “I think you have something to say to Master Florrie, no?”

His hand still clutched in Sabrina’s, Bradley pursed his lips and stared at the dusty wood floor beneath. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so low that even Jason could hardly hear it, let alone the shopkeeper.

“So he can hear you, Bradley,” Sabrina said, her voice like ice. Were it not for the need to keep him close so he didn’t try to evade this apology, she might’ve dropped his hand and pushed him forwards. As it was, she gave him a slight tug to draw him closer to the shopkeeper.

“I… I’m sorry.” Bradley swallowed hard.

“And what are you sorry for?” Jason prompted, his face impertinent as the knight handed the writhing burlap bag to Florrie.

“I b-broke your lock,” Bradley said. “And I took the snake.”

“You stole her?” Florrie furrowed his brow, incredulous, as a bit more color drained from his cheeks. Sharply, he flicked his gaze back to Jason. “I… I do hope the little lord was not injured. I… promise you that all proper locking mechanisms were in place, and--”

“He’s fine,” Jason interrupted. “And I’ve read the reports: I know you followed all procedure. Thus, in addition to returning your property, we’ll also be paying you recompense for any search charges, or mere emotional turmoil, you may have faced.”

“I… you…” Florrie looked about as confused as a rabbit let go by a wolf. “You needn’t do that, my lord,” he forced out. “I’m… but your humble subject, and…”

“And as a humble subject, we are obligated to see to your welfare, Master Florrie,” Sabrina said smoothly. “A member of our house has done you and your business harm, and it is only right that there is recompense.”

“T-thank you, my lady.” Florrie bowed again. “My lord. You are too kind.”

“The sale price of the snake,” Jason said, withdrawing a weighty pouch from the inner pocket of his overtunic and extending it out toward Florrie. “In duplicate.”

Florrie’s hand shook as he accepted the proffered purse. “If you insist, my lord,” he said.

“I do.” Jason looked to Bradley again. “What else do you have to say to Master Florrie, Bradley?”

“I… I don’t know.” Bradley still wouldn’t look at either Florrie or his father.

“Chin up, Bradley,” Sabrina said crisply. “You look someone in the eyes when you’re apologizing to them. And I think Master Florrie deserves some reassurance that he won’t have any more broken locks or missing snakes. He won’t, will he?”

“No, he won’t,” Bradley echoed, as he slowly brought up his gaze and settled it on Florrie. His bronzed face flickered with fear as the boy said, “I’m… I’m sorry for any problems I caused you. It was wrong of me. I-I won’t do it again. I promise.”

“Aye, well.” Tucking the money into his vest, Florrie started toward an empty vivarium on the far wall-- its sliding glass door featuring a conspicuously shiny lock without so much as a hint of rust to it-- and unknotted the burlap sack, his hands quick and practiced as he shook out the coral snake within. “I’m just glad you’re not hurt, little lord,” the man said, sliding the door shut; the lock caught and engaged automatically. “Even baby corals are very dangerous.”

“I know.” Bradley’s voice shook. “I’m sorry.”

“We thank you for your understanding and discretion, Master Florrie,” Jason said, watching as the coral snake explored its new surroundings, its tongue flicking rapidly. “And the next time we need to purchase a new snake for our vivariums, we’ll be sure to keep your business at the forefront of our list.” He turned to Sabrina. “Shall we?” he said, gesturing to the door.

Sabrina nodded, drawing her son back out of the shop. As they emerged into the daylight, she huffed softly. “Was it worth it, Bradley? All this trouble, was having that snake for a month worth it?”

“No, Mummy,” he whispered, as his stomach gave a timely growl. He hadn’t had more than bread and water in days.

“Do you know how much money we had to give him, Bradley?” Jason asked. Though Sabrina still had one of the boy’s hands, the lord of Elacs reached out and took the child’s other, lacing his fingers tight. “What else that could have bought?”

“A… a lot?” Bradley guessed, knowing better than to fight his father’s hold.

“Enough feeder mice to keep the pet snakes you already had happy for months,” Sabrina said. “The snakes you don’t get to watch eat now because the staff of the vivariums are feeding them. And you’re hungry now, right? When you took the snake away from that man without paying for it, you took away what could have been a month’s worth of food.”

“S-sometimes snakes in the wild go months without eating,” Bradley said, hesitantly.

Jason squeezed his hand so hard the boy let out a startled gasp, even before the lord snapped, “But that wasn’t a wild snake. And it was a neonate. It needs to eat more than an adult.” He paused, his jaw clenched. “Do you know how frustrated he must have been, trapped in your room? Hungry and cold? Especially because we keep feeders about our quarters, Bradley. When he was slithering around, he must have smelled them, but he couldn’t get to them because they’re up in cages. He had to be miserable.”

“I… I didn’t think about that.” Bradley sniffled. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

Sabrina shook her head. “This is why your father and I keep trying to get you to think before you do things. Your actions have consequences, Bradley. I don’t tell you that you can’t have more snakes to be mean, I tell you that you can’t because you’re too young and inexperienced to properly look after so many, especially advanced or dangerous species.” Her mouth curled downwards. “Maybe tonight you should sleep on the stone hearth without a blanket. So you can see if you enjoy being cold as well as hungry.”

“No.” Bradley’s face fell even further. “Please, Mummy, don’t.”

“If you don’t want to the punishment, Bradley,” Jason said, “then you ought not commit the crime. I think your mother’s provided an excellent idea.”

“C-can I eat more than bread again, though?” Bradley murmured. “My belly hurts.”

“The baby was cold and hungry,” Sabrina replied. “So you can be too. Maybe in the morning if you can prove that you’re properly sorry for what you did instead of just apologizing because we tell you to, we’ll think about letting you have a real breakfast.”

“Yes, Mummy.” He wilted. “I… I am sorry, though. I really am.”

“I’m glad that you’re sorry, Bradley,” Jason said. “But sorry or not, you still did a very, very bad and dangerous thing. And you have to face the consequences. You understand that, right?”

“Uh-huh.” The boy chewed on his lip. “I… hope the snake’s okay. That I didn’t hurt him too bad.”

Sabrina didn’t respond to that. Part of her was frustrated that it was the knowledge he’d potentially hurt the snake that was drawing remorse from him, and not the fact that said snake had come within a hair’s breadth of killing his mother. It was an old frustration, and one she wasn’t sure she’d ever get past. The Ophid snake obsession seemed like it trumped almost anything else sometimes, and Sabrina just didn’t understand it.

They finally arrived back at the castle and turned Bradley loose to attend a lesson with his tutors. Sabrina sighed softly, looking at her husband.

“He seems legitimately upset at least,” she said dully. “But has he really learned his lesson?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted, pressing a hand to his forehead. “He sounds remorseful, at least. But whether that will stop him from acting foolishly in the future? I couldn’t say.” The lord shrugged, almost defeatedly. “We’ll just have to stay on our toes with him. Always. Treat him like, well, a snake, and never let our guard down.”

“I’m exhausted just anticipating it,” Sabrina said with a sigh. “I think I’ll see what Ben is doing- he should be done with his tutors for the day, so maybe he and I can go out for a ride. You can come along if you want.”

“Unfortunately, paperwork awaits me.” The Ophid lord spared his wife a thin, tired smile. “But you can take Bryanna, if you’d like. As long as you put her on my sister’s old dapple mare, not the gelding we bought from Lord Naja last month. Bree loves the cursed thing, but I love having her not thrown from the saddle slightly more.”

“Deal,” Sabrina replied, giving her husband’s shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck with the paperwork, Jason. And do try not to work through lunch again, or I’ll have to order the servants to bring you up something every time you fail to arrive at the table.”

A genuine bit of warmth crept into Jason’s wary smile, and he leaned forward to give his a wife a brief peck on the cheek. “I’ll be there,” he said. “Have a good ride, Sabrina. And hopefully Bradley won’t give us any more trouble anytime soon.”

“Woo witness that,” Sabrina replied, turning down the hall to find her older two children. At least they could be relied upon to behave.

[Avery]

Collab with Shinko and Gelquie. Takes place starting February 1379. It's... cute, possibly? =o

Puppy Love: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

Sabrina Ophid nee Escalus was not having a good night.

Not that this was unusual. She’d had more bad nights that good ones in the past few months. She slept fitfully, her body flushing with heat seemingly at random so that she sweated through her nightdress, and her head pounded. The Ophid healers assured her that this was normal- just a thing that happened to women as they got older, a sign that they were no longer of childbearing age.

Cold comfort, that. She was still miserable.

Usually she shared the bed with her husband, Lord Jason Ophid, ruler of Elacs. He’d notice and comment if she got up at odd hours, but fortunately he was not presently home. Business had called him away to Medieville, and then a particularly brutal rash of winter storms had left the roads back southeast impassible and thus stranded him there until further notice, leaving no one to observe Sabrina save for her husband’s many snakes in their glass habitats. With no fear of reproach or concern from the reptiles, she decided that the February weather would see the hallways would probably be cooler than her bedroom. She slipped out of the bed and out into the castle.

Even considering the late hour- sometime in the wee hours of the morning- it was very quiet. The private wing was nearly deserted. Not only was Jason gone on business, but his and Sabrina’s sons Benjamin and Bradley had gone with Ben’s wife Marisa to Courdon to attend the funeral of King Cassian, Marisa’s uncle. This left only Bradley’s wife and daughter, Sabrina, Ben’s children, and Sabrina’s youngest son Desmond in residence.

The hallway narrowed as it stretched further back into the castle, winding a bit as it led toward a cluster of smaller bedchambers that House Ophid usually assigned to its youngest members. At this time of night, all such rooms should have been dark and quiet, their young occupants fast asleep inside. But as Sabrina padded near, it was impossible to miss the faint glow of candlelight leaking out from beneath one of the children’s doors. Nor the whispers that accompanied it, two voices hissing back and forth in clipped, aggravated tones.

Sabrina frowned. This room belonged to Jane, Bradley’s daughter. What in Woo’s name was the not even five year old girl doing up at such an hour? And who was that with her? Tucking a lock of grey-rooted blonde hair behind her ear, and bracing herself for yet another round of arguing with the willful child, Sabrina rapped sharply on the door.

“Jane?” she called sternly. “What’s going on in there? Shouldn’t you be in bed? And whoever’s playing with you, I imagine it’s far past their bedtime as well.”

Inside the room, both of the voices fell quiet for a good, long moment, before they picked up again-- but only to murmur once more at one another rather than to answer Sabrina’s question. There was no rustling or sound of footsteps; whoever was within Jane’s chamber clearly wasn’t making any move for the door. There was, however, upon bringing an ear closer to the door, another sound punctuating the night air: a high-pitched, staccato squeaking noise, like that of a very rusty door-hinge or out of tune violin. Sabrina’s frown deepened into a scowl, and she opened the door to enter her granddaughter's bedroom.

“When I talk to you, I expect you answer…” Sabrina’s voice trailed off.

If the woman had been expecting to find Jane and the mystery friend sitting on the girl’s bed playing with Jane’s many dolls, or building a blanket fort on the floor, then she’d been very badly mistaken. Rather, Jane crouched in the far corner of the room, her back to Sabrina and her long, white-blonde hair hanging in a frizzy braid over her shoulder. Beside her, his back also to Sabrina, sat the girl’s older cousin, nine-year-old George, the boy freezing as if he’d been slapped at the sound of his grandmother stepping inside.

It was not the children, however, who were a shocking sight so much as what lay in front of them, half-burrowed in a pile of soiled bed linens: a dog. A massive black dog, its tail thumping halfheartedly as it glanced toward Sabrina-- and a writhing mass of what had to be at least half a dozen newborn puppies squawking at its milk-swollen teats.

“G-Grandma,” George forced out after a moment, still not daring to look at her. “I um… I… I c-can explain…”

“Oh. My. Woo,” Sabrina whispered hoarsely. Her voice rising sharply she snapped, “George, Jane, why does Phantom have puppies? Since when has she even been pregnant, surely we would’ve…”

But, upon reflection, Sabrina realized she hadn’t seen George’s pet mastiff in quite some time. Everyone had been so distracted preparing for Benjamin’s international trip that keeping track of the dog had been the last thing on anyone’s minds.

She clenched her jaw. “There had better be a good explanation for this, you two.”

Jane, apparently sharing none of her older cousin’s fear, turned toward her grandmother, a broad smile blooming between the girl’s lips. “She had babies!” the girl announced, sounding proud. “Nine babies! An’ they’re so cute--”

“Jane.” George swallowed hard, raking an agitated hand through his coal-black hair. “Grandma can already tell that Phantom had babies.” Exhaling slowly, the boy finally dared glance over his shoulder to meet his grandmother’s smoldering gaze. “W-when she was… in season back in December, I… um… M-Mum and Dad told me she had to stay in the kennels, that I couldn’t let her out, but I… I… missed her and… I took her out, just for a little and--” The boy’s hazel eyes drifted back toward the ground, before he finished meekly: “I didn’t latch the kennel gate behind me.”

The Lady of Elacs rubbed her face. That could only mean that one of the Ophids’ hunting hounds had gotten to her. So not only puppies, but mutt puppies. They’d be next to impossible to find owners for, being unsuitable both to hunting as a hound would and as guard dogs like a mastiff was.

“How long have you known she was pregnant, George?”

“Um.” The boy hesitated. “I… I don’t know. She started getting all… round... but I thought maybe she was just eating too much. B-but then she started getting milk about a week and a half ago, and…”

“He was hidin’ her in his room!” Jane said brightly. “But I missed her so I went lookin’, then--”

“Jane,” George cut in, clenching his teeth. “You’re not helping.”

“At this point, honesty will serve you better than beating around the bush, George,” Sabrina admonished, planting her hands on her hips. “So let me see if I have this- you were warned not to let Phantom out while she was in season, but you did anyway and accidentally let a male get to her. Then when you realized she was pregnant you hid her so no one would realize your mistake. What were you planning to do with the puppies?”

“I don’t know,” the boy whispered. “And… I would have told, I just was… they’re just-- no good for hunting, and t-they’re gonna be no good for guarding-- I mean, look how small they are-- and… I w-was afraid that… that…” Blinking sharply, George finished: “I was s-scared they’d just be c-culled. Like the kennel-master does with all the runts. And I… I love Phantom, I d-don’t want her p-puppies to-- to--”

Sabrina’s anger was dampened somewhat by that admission. She sighed, shaking her head.

“You still should have said something, George,” she said, though her voice was softer now. “What if one of the puppies had been breech? It could’ve killed Phantom and the pup. Mistakes happen, but you can’t try to cover up something like this- it’s better to tell us so we can handle it in a way that’s best for everyone involved.”

Trembling slightly, George nodded. “I-I know,” he forced out. “I’m sorry. But…” He reached a shaky hand out toward Phantom, gently stroking along the dog’s back. “A-are you going to take them?” he asked. “The p-puppies?”

Sabrina knew what he meant, but chose to play dumb. “Take them?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t very well produce enough milk for nine pups that are going to end up nearly as big as Phantom before they’re done, can I? I imagine they’ll have to go to new homes eventually, if we can find adopters, but for now she seems to have things well in hand, so what point is there in my butting in?”

The relief that flooded over George was palpable, the boy fighting back a wavering smile as, next to him, Jane gingerly petted the squirming puddle of puppies. Phantom watched on with a mother’s eye but did not intervene, merely yawning as George moved to scratch behind her floppy ears.

“T-thank you, Grandma,” the boy said. “I… I… thank you.”

Folding her arms, Sabrina added sharply, “However, don’t think you’re both off the hook. I don’t like you lying George, and Jane I don’t like you helping him cover this up. So since you thought you were going to handle this all on your own with no one finding out, you can continue like that. The two of you will be responsible for seeing to Phantom and her puppies. Clean up after the whelping- I’m sure you see how messy it is. Keep an eye on her and the puppies to make sure they don’t get sick. When the puppies get older, you two will be exclusively in charge of them. George, I’m sure you remember how much trouble Phantom was when she was a pup. Multiply that by nine.”

As George only nodded again, Jane cocked her head, her fog grey eyes deliberative. “Can Josie help?” This was George’s six-year-old sister. “She likes doggies, too! An’ especially puppies!”

“Jane, don’t press it--” George started.

“Josie knew too, though,” Jane said. Looking to Sabrina, the girl added cheerily, “But she got bored watchin’ Phantom pant for hours, so she went to bed when only six of them was born--”

Sabrina held up a hand, feeling her headache coming back far more strongly than previous. “And who else is in on your little plot?”

“Just Josie!” Jane beamed. “I wanted to tell Uncle Des, or Mummy, but George said no, ‘cos--”

“Josie can help,” Sabrina interrupted firmly. “And bored or tired or not, she’ll have to stick it out from now on. This will not be the last sleepless night you all have. And you will still be expected to attend your usual lessons, you realize.” Glancing at Jane with a quirk of a smile she added, “And I don’t think there will be any more visits to the vivarium for you or Josie for the foreseeable future. After all, you’ll need all the time you can get to keep an eye on Phantom and the babies, and while your cousins are in their lessons someone has to be watching.”

George said nothing, but here, Jane finally faltered. “But… Uncle Des was gonna take me with him tomorrow when he holded the new boa that’s all the way from Mordor--”

“Dormor,” Sabrina corrected. “And it looks like your uncle will be visiting the new boa on his own. This is punishment, Jane, not a lark. You wanted to help your cousin keep this a secret, so all three of you can carry on as if it had stayed a secret. These puppies will be your responsibility, and their lives are in your hands. That means putting them over getting to do fun things for yourself. Don’t you think Phantom would rather be playing fetch or sleeping or chewing on a toy? But instead she has to take care of nine squealy babies. It’s only fair.”

Jane sighed. “Okay,” the girl said. “I’ll take good care of them.” Brightening again, she thought to add, “An’ maybe then Mummy will see how ‘sponsible I am, and get me my own snake!”

At this, George could only barely restrain a smirk. “You’d lose a snake in five seconds, Janie,” the boy said.

“Nuh-uh,” she refuted, grinning as one of the puppies tried to suckle her finger. “I’m real ‘sponsible! You’ll see!”

“I think the responsible thing for both of you to do would be to go to bed,” Sabrina admonished gently. “I’ll have the kennelmaster take a look at the pups in the morning to make sure they’re all healthy. And I imagine Lady Alina will want to have a word with you herself, Jane.” She crooked a finger at George. “Come on, back to your room.”

“Yes, Grandma,” George said, giving Phantom one last pat before he stood.

As she watched her cousin walk toward the door, Jane’s lips fell open. “Does that mean I hafta stay alone with them?” she needled. “‘Til mornin’?”

“Yes,” Sabrina replied with a mischievous smile. “They were whelped in your room, so this is their ‘den’ now. You’ll have lone charge of them at night. Have fun.”

**

Over the next several weeks, the puppies grew like dandelions in a springtime field, and their delegated minders became swift experts in how best to scrub a floor, function on virtually no sleep, and hand-feed a squalling, squirming pup after Phantom’s runt-- a brindled female that Jane, quite originally, dubbed Brindle-- stopped latching to her mother’s teat. At least when the pups were about three weeks old, and starting to explore the world on unsteady, staggering feet, Sabrina and the other Ophid adults who were present permitted the litter to be moved from Jane’s bedchamber into a disused sitting room, where there was less for the lurching, yipping, whining beasts to get into.

Because Woo, did they get into everything.

“Shadow ate my shoelace!” Jane lamented over tea one afternoon when the puppies were nearly four weeks old, the girl stifling a yawn as she gnawed on an orange cream eclair. “An’ I didn’t even notice ‘til it was all chewed up!”

George, sitting in between Jane and his sister Josie, rolled his eyes. “If you’d learn how to tie your shoes, maybe he wouldn’t have been able to.”

“I know how,” Jane huffed. “I jus’ don’t like to.” She wrinkled her nose, before glancing to Sabrina, who sat to her left. “Is Mummy comin’ home from the market soon?” the girl asked. “She’s been gone forever. She was gonna get the puppies big bones to chew on while she was out. From the butcher.”

“It may be a while yet,” Sabrina replied. “She had a lot of errands to run. Don’t fuss, Jane, your cousins’ parents have been away over a month. You’ll survive a few hours.”

On a futon across from his mother sat Desmond Ophid, Sabrina and Jason’s eighteen year old youngest child. Though usually he would be south in House Garter’s territory serving as a squire, he’d been given leave to return to Copperhead to help his mother keep an eye on things while all of the adult males of the House were away. He smirked slightly in Jane’s direction.

“You think you’re unhappy now,” he remarked. “What goes in must come out you know, and a puppy’s tummy can’t digest shoelaces. You know what happens when a puppy has something in their bottom that’s not been broken down properly? It gets stuck, and they have to drag their bums all over the floor to get it out.”

Jane let out a noise of unadulterated disgust. “That’s gross!” she gasped, staring down at her eclair as though it were suddenly quite unappetizing. “Shadow’s so dumb. I don’t get why the valet wants ‘im.” The pup deemed Shadow, along with two others from the litter, had already been pawned off on several of the castle’s higher-ranking staff who did not live within the walls of Copperhead Castle; they’d be taken home once they were weaned. “I like Brindle,” the girl said. “She’s sweeter. An’ doesn’t eat shoelaces.”

“She likes you too,” Josie helpfully pointed out, just before she had to stop to yawn, her weary eyes gazing at the spread of pastries on the coffee table in front of her as she tiredly playing with one in her hand. “Keeps going right to you. ...And I think Pepper likes me too. Keeps coming to me and licking me.”

George nodded. “Pepper’s real friendly,” he agreed. “And she looks just like Phantom did as a pup; they could be twins. I wonder what she’ll look like when she’s grown. If she’ll be as big.”

“It’s nice you all like the puppies, kids,” Sabrina cut in. “But don’t get too attached. As soon as they’re weaned we’ll be selling the ones that none of the staff have asked for.”

Jane’s face fell, as if this were news to her and had not already been explained to her two dozen times. “Couldn’t we just keep a few?” the girl whined. “Like Brindle an’ Pepper. An’... Bosco, too, ‘cos I like his ears--”

“No,” Desmond interrupted, though not unkindly. “You know your Grandpa would have a canary. You’ll both get snakes when you’re older, remember? You want snakes right? The puppies will get good homes somewhere else.”

Josie frowned, but poked her pastry in thought. “...I do. Always wanted one… But why can’t we have both? We’ve taken care of them so far, we could do it…”

Jane nodded in earnest solidarity. “We’ve done real good,” she boasted. “An’ that’s with nine! If we only keep two or three, it’ll be fine. Grandpa won’t care, he’ll jus’ be happy to be home after bein’ stuck in Med’vul forever--”

“No,” Desmond cut in. “But tell you what- when I go to the market to sell the pups, you three can come with me. That way when people look at the puppies you can tell them all the fun things about their personalities and what they like, so that the new mommies and daddies can make sure Pepper and Bosco and all their brothers and sisters are happy.”

“That’s a good idea, Des,” Sabrina remarked, nodding with approval. It would also get through to the kid’s heads that this was not a game they could play to generate more and more puppies- pups had to be sold once they were old enough, and there was no getting around it.

“The market!” Jane exclaimed. Prone to wandering-- and sulking when her parents did not accede her requests for treats-- the young girl was rarely taken along on their excursions, and so this was a much rarer opportunity than it might have been otherwise. Breathlessly, she continued, “Oooh, can I wear my yellow dress? The one that’s got black patches sewn on that look like scales?”

Josie found a smile growing on her face as well. “Yeah! And maybe we can match for when we go. You wanna do that, Jane?”

Desmond, however, was shaking his head. “Nah, sorry girls. We’re going to be dressing as peasants for this trip. If we look like upper crust members of House Ophid, it’ll scare most people away and they won’t want to adopt the puppies.”

“But you’re still brushing your hair before you go out,” Sabrina added to Jane sternly.

Jane pursed her lips. “‘Kay,” she said with absolutely zero conviction. “But can we bring Phantom with?”

“That might be a good idea, really,” George mulled. “So people know how big the pups might get.” The boy bit his lip. “We could bring the dad, too. If the kennel-master lets us. ‘Cos I mean, some of them look more like him.”

“You can bring Phantom,” Sabrina agreed. “But I think the dad should stay here. The kennel-master wouldn’t be happy with you dragging him around the city, and besides that it would look very strange for a peasant family to have both a purebred mastiff and a high quality purebred foxhound. After all, foxes are generally only hunted by the nobility, and purebred dogs are extremely expensive in general.”

“We get to keep them a couple more weeks, though, right?” Jane wheedled. “‘Cos they’re too little now?” She looked back to Josie, whispering to her cousin: “An’ maybe by then Grandma will change her mind an’ let us keep some.”

Josie attempted a covert nod and whispered, “Yeah… And either way, we all get to go to the market. ...Maybe I can play with Pepper more ‘fore then.”

“I heard that,” Sabrina said dryly. “And if you haven’t yet learned your lesson about making sneaky plans maybe I should find something for you both to do to curb this leisure you seem to have for plotting…”

Josie’s eyes went wide. “But we’ll be good! Promise. I get to play with Pepper till then anyway.”

“An’ I did learn!” Jane chirped. “Uncle Des forgot to lock Uncle Ben’s hoggie’s cage this mornin’ after holdin’ him, an’ I didn’t even take him out to play with him, even though I could have!”

Desmond looked taken aback, then he groaned and stood. “I’ll go fix that.”

“You had better,” Sabrina retorted. Turning to Jane she added, “The puppies are being sold, young lady. And that is final.”

Puppy Love: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

Two weeks later, with the pups fully weaned and eating solid food, it was-- much to Jane and Josie’s chagrin-- time to sell the puppies. The younger girl acted as if she were being forced to attend a funeral as Desmond staked claim over a spot at the fringe of Copperhead’s chaotic central marketplace, George clutching Phantom’s lead at his side and the six remaining puppies who’d not been claimed by an Ophid staff member squirming in a large wooden crate that had been borrowed from the kennel-master. Her storm grey eyes trained on the plain-clothes Ophid knight who had accompanied the young lord, his nieces, and nephew-- and who was presently helping Desmond position the cage just so-- Jane scowled and kicked at the dusty cobblestones below.

“It’s hot out,” she said sullenly, although in truth it wasn’t, with an unusually bitter wind lashing the air. Tugging off the cloak her mother had insisted she wear, the blonde-haired girl held it out toward her cousin Josie. “You wear it,” she whined. “I don’t want it.”

But Josie shook her head, holding her cloak closer to her. “I don’t want it either, Jane, I already have one,” she whined back. She pointedly turned her attention down to the remaining puppies in the crate. Her eyes kept trailing back to one particular puppy, and she reached down to pet it through the slats in the portable kennel. The dog in turn licked her fingers. “It’ll be okay, Pepper,” she consoled the content puppy, ignoring any further offers of the cloak.

“Stop whining, Jane,” Desmond said sternly. “And put your cloak back on. I don’t want your mother fussing at me because I let you catch a cold.” He gave Phantom’s head an absent stroke. “Honestly, these silly girls are fussing over your babies more than you are, huh?”

The dog nuzzled Desmond’s hand and leaned against his side, wholly unfazed, as Jane dourly pulled her cloak back on. “I just love them,” she insisted. “An’ I don’t want them to be gone. ‘Cos--”

“Will you just shut up, Jane?” George snapped, the young boy squaring his jaw. “We all like them. But we can’t keep six puppies, Granddad would kill us, and they’d take up too much room, and--”

“Stop bickering,” Desmond cut in, glaring at the children. “George, you’re not the daddy. Jane, stop fussing like a spoiled brat. Got it?”

George, scowling, fell silent at once; Jane, in turn, stalked several paces away from her family and crossed her arms at her chest, only condescending herself to their presence again when the knight called her back-- whereupon she dropped down onto the cobblestones beneath and sat with her back pressed against the cage of puppies, as if she were a mother bird protecting its nest.

“Um… Am I interruptin’?” a soft female voice said, drawing the attention of the Ophids. A young woman, no more than sixteen or seventeen, had come up to the stall, and was looking awkwardly down at the sulking girlchild.

Desmond glanced up, a polite dignitary’s smile appearing on his face. “Not at all ma’am, can I help you?”

“Well I saw you was sellin’ puppies and I wondered if I could look?” she asked. “It’s my gran. Pappie passed a month back and we’re all worried about her bein’ alone, but she’s stubborn.” Looking at Phantom, the woman added, “Is that the mother? A dog that size with Gran would be a real comfort.”

A few steps behind his uncle, George nodded. “Uh-huh,” he said. “She’s a purebred. Real pricy. But the dad’s a hound, and so we’re selling the pups for a lot less.” He glanced back at the kennel, gesturing beyond Jane at one of the puppies in particular-- a tri-colored male with his mother’s massive paws. “That one’s got his dad’s coat, but he’s gonna be big like his mum. And he’s got a loud bark.”

“An’ I love him,” Jane announced somberly.

“I do too, but the pup’s’ve gotta go somewhere,” Josie responded. “And he’s not Brindle.” Or Pepper, she thought. She looked up the woman. “But you gotta make sure he loves you too if you want him.”

“Well only one way to see,” Desmond said, completely ignoring Jane’s petulant remark. He reached down into the crate and, in spite of the pup’s size, easily scooped him up and set him down before the young woman. With a gentle smile the peasant knelt down, giving the tri-color pup a scratch behind the ear.

“Hey little guy,” she cooed. “You wanna come with me and meet my gran? I bet she’ll love you, she was a shepherdess when she was younger and used to train dogs all the time.”

“His mum’s got a good temperament,” George said, breaking a smile as he watched the puppy attempt to climb into the woman’s lap. Phantom, similarly intrigued, cocked her head and took a few steps forward, reaching the end of her lead as she gave her pup a lick-- and then spared another for the prospective buyer. “Gentle, see?” George added.

The woman’s smiled widened and she spared a few pats for Phantom. “So it seems. How much for him?”

“A million runestones,” Jane said before Desmond could reply. “An’ your favoritest snake, too.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, looking an interesting combination of amused and exasperated. “That’s quite steep, young miss. And I’m afraid I don’t own any snakes.”

“It’s fifty runestones,” Desmond put in. “But it’s fine if you don’t have that on hand, we’ll take twenty now and you can leave collateral and come back with the rest tomorrow.”

“That sounds fair,” the woman replied, reaching for her money pouch and counting out the coins, then removing a small bracelet from her wrist and offering it to Desmond. “Do you have any ropes I can use for a lead?”

Josie reached behind her, grabbing one of the leads from the pile and handing it to the woman. “Here. Just… Take good care of him. But it should be okay. I think he likes you, and I think the mom likes you too.” She reached down and gave the puppy one last pet. “Goodbye, boy.”

“Jane,” George said gently as Phantom, seeming to realize what was about to happen, let out a small whine. “Do you wanna say goodbye, too?”

His young cousin, still sitting in front of the crate, sniffled loudly. “No,” she said. “An’ now Phantom’s sad also.” Tears pooled in her pale eyes, and she did not bother to blink them away. “I wanna take them home.”

“I’m sorry, young Miss,” the woman said gently. “I promise you and the Mama dog that Gran and I’ll take good care of this baby.” She gave Phantom a scratch behind the ear, tied the lead to the pup’s neck, and stood. “Good luck findin’ homes for the others!”

“Thank you! I hope your grandma likes her new friend!” Desmond called to the woman as she walked away. Once she was safely out of earshot, however, his pleasant smile evaporated and he glared at Jane. “Up. Now.”

The girl balked, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I miss him,” she sniveled. “Already.”

“Jane, look,” Desmond said. “I understand you’re sad about the puppies going away. That’s fine. But you can’t act like a sullen brat all day. This is happening regardless of if you like it or not.”

“And we’ll still have Phantom,” George added. “You can give all your love to her, Janie.”

“B-but--”

Desmond, losing patience with the child’s histrionics, reached down and hooked under her armpits, hauling her to her feet. “I said up, young lady. You can either behave and get to say goodbye to the puppies, or I can have our friend here,” he jerked his thumb at the knight who was watching this exchange impassively, “escort you home, and explain to your mother exactly why you’re back early.”

As Desmond wrenched her to her feet, Jane let out an undignified squawk. “I’ll be good,” she burbled, wiping at her teary eyes. “Don’t tell my mummy. Please.”

Desmond folded his arms. “You promise? You’ve only got one chance left.”

“Uh-huh.” Jane gulped. “I promise.”

And, for the most part, the child upheld her vow. She was by no means cheerful, but at least she refrained from making sullen remarks as the rest of the day proceeded and the puppies slowly found new owners. George’s favorite, a hard-coated female with a bay like her father’s, went to a young cheesemonger and his two daughters, both of whom delighted over getting the pup to ‘sing’; Bosco of the alleged cute ears found his way into the arms of a baker who wanted extra security at his business after a break-in last month but who could not afford the exorbitant prices of a purebred guardian like Phantom.

By the time dusk approached, only two pups remained: the runt, Brindle, and Josie’s prized Phantom-lookalike, Pepper. Desmond was just about to call it an evening and head back to the castle with the stragglers of the litter when a young man sidled up to the group, took one glance at the slumbering Pepper, and asked how much the pup would cost. While she’d accepted the rest of the sales valiantly, this time Josie balked, hesitating on advertising her or even letting him hold her. Unfortunately, when the man was handling Pepper, the pup woke up, and though tired, immediately took to the man, licking his fingers and staring up at him. He reciprocated by petting her, which only made the pup happier. Josie’s heart sank, but a part of her knew it was coming. Over time, when other prospective buyers had considered her, the dog had acted just as friendly to them as she had to the man… or Josie. To the point where she’d become certain that Pepper’s attachment to her was not a personal thing, and that she didn’t love Josie more than anyone else.

But it didn’t make it much easier for Josie to let go. The man agreed to the sale, and after petting Pepper and giving her one last sweet goodbye, she turned and reluctantly handed over the lead, looking like she was ready to cry.

“It’s okay, Josie,” George murmured afterward, as they started for home. “He seemed nice. And he’ll take good care of her.”

“...I know,” Josie said weakly. “They liked each other. It’s just… I liked her too. And I’ll miss her.”

Desmond gave all three of the kids a sympathetic smile and pulled them into a hug. “It’s okay to miss them. I missed my pet snakes too, when I left home at nine to be a page. But you’ve still got Phantom, your parents and Grandpa’s snakes, and all the vivarium snakes. Plus I’m sure Grandma will take you out to the stables with the horses if you want.” Letting the kids go and gesturing to the crate, which was in the arms of their knight companion, he added, “Besides, you can still play with Brindle until we go back out tomorrow.”

“Can she have a sleepover?” Jane asked. “With me an’ Josie? ‘Cos she’ll be all lonely. Without her brothers and sisters.”

Josie looked thoughtful for a moment before looking away. “She’s going away tomorrow anyway, just like the others. ...But I don’t want her to be lonely either… I dunno…”

“It’ll be fun,” Jane countered. “We can both sleep in my bed an’ she’ll cuddle with us. An’ she won’t be alone.”

Josie looked down at the puppy, now the only one left in the crate before she let out a sigh. “Okay, she can be with us.”

The girls, however, seemed to be a small comfort to Brindle: sandwiched in between Josie and Jane in the latter’s bed that night, the puppy was inconsolable. No matter how much the children fussed over her, the dog whined incessantly, trying at length to squirm away from them as if she sought to head off in search of her missing littermates. Not even scraps of bread filched from the dinner table-- the puppies’ long favourite-- worked to soothe her, the pup pausing her histrionics only long enough to wolf them down before whimpering again.

“Maybe we should bring her to Phantom,” Jane murmured eventually-- hours after her mother had tucked both girls in-- before abruptly jerking her head toward the door as a knock sounded.

“Girls?” came a voice they recognized as their grandmother. “Why do I hear talking in there? I hope I don’t have to separate you two after all.”

“It’s Brindle,” Josie said. “She’s been sad all day, and she won’t stop crying. We’ve been up trying to help her cheer up, but she won’t.”

The door creaked open, and Sabrina entered with a sigh. “What’s the matter with her?”

As the lady of House Ophid stepped into the room, the puppy paused her whining to cock her head at the newcomer, the tip of her tail wagging slightly. Jane, scratching behind the dog’s ears, shrugged and fought back a yawn, then sighed at the brief reprieve of quiet.

“I think she misses the other pups,” the girl said. “‘Cos she’s the only one left. An’ she’s never been without them before.”

“Ah, I see,” Sabrina said. “When I first came here to marry your grandpa I was lonely too. But I eventually made new friends, and I’m sure Brindle will too.” The older woman sat down on a nearby chair. “How about you girls? Desmond said you were sad to see the pups go.”

Josie looked down and nodded. “Uh huh. Jane mostly, but… I thought Pepper liked me a lot. And I liked her and really wanted to keep her. But then she liked everyone. And it made people like her, and now she’s gone. ...I mean, the guy who took her seemed nice, but...” She trailed off.

“I loved all of them,” Jane said, as Brindle wrested free from her and started toward the edge of the bed, her gaze set on Sabrina and her wagging tail picking up speed. “An’ I don’t wanna go back tomorrow again. So that I’ll hafta lose her, too.”

Sabrina sighed. “You don’t have to go along tomorrow if you don’t want. I understand Jane. It’s hard losing something you care about. But I’m sure all of the new owners will love their puppies. Even the man who adopted Pepper.” Glancing at Brindle, a small smile quirking at the corner of her mouth, the Ophid Lady added, “She seems to be cheering up some, at least.”

“She likes you,” Jane replied. “She always has. Whenever you came to visit her, she’d get real excited. An’ her tail would wag.”

“Does she now?” Sabrina replied, surprised. She looked towards Josie as if to confirm it, and the little girl nodded.

“Yeah, all the time,” Josie said before looking down at Brindle. “She’s wagging her tail at you right now. Look.”

“You can sleep over with us, Grandma!” Jane said, bouncing suddenly. “An’ the puppy! So she’ll be quiet. ‘Cos she hasn’t cried once since you came in.” A pause, as she surveyed the crowded bed. “... We can make room.” As if to demonstrate, she reached out and nudged Josie closer to the edge of the bed. “Make a gap for Grandma!” she instructed.

“Hey, I’ll move, but you’re gonna push me off,” Josie complained.

Sabrina shook her head, amused. “I don’t think I’d fit, girls. But tell you what- just for tonight, since Grandpa still isn’t back yet, you two can sleep with me in our room. As long as you promise Brindle will be good when we get there.”

“Uh-huh, she will be!” Jane had already bounded to her feet, beaming from ear to ear. “I swear. On my honor.” She’d heard her father say something similar once.

Josie nodded, looking excited at the prospect of sleeping in her grandmother’s bed. “Yeah! Brindle will be good, ‘long as she cheers up.”

“Alright, come on then,” the Ophid lady said, standing up again and making a beckoning motion. “But I expect you both to sleep, alright?”

Puppy Love: Part Three

SPOILER: Click to show

Josie and Jane did, indeed, sleep-- but the latter only when she was wrapped around Sabrina as if she were a shawl, the girl’s head nested against her grandmother’s chest and her elbows digging into the lady of House Ophid’s ribs. This wouldn’t have been such a big issue had Brindle not claimed Sabrina’s other side, the pup sprawled with her forelegs touching Sabrina’s arm and her rear legs bearing into Josie, and taking up more of the bed than did either of the two little girls. Sabrina took this gamely, exasperating as it was. In a way it was rather sweet, and at least the pup was still small enough that she wasn’t taking up as much space as her mother would have- which is to say, fully half the bed and then some. The Ophid lady even found herself stroking Brindle absently when the insomnia that had been afflicting her of late kept her from sleeping too soundly.

The following day Desmond again took Brindle out to the market. Though he collected the second half of the payments from those who’d purchased pups at less than the full price, the full day passed without anyone deciding to take Brindle home. She was too big for most to think her a good pet, but not big or confident enough to interest anyone looking for a guard dog; in fact, she outright shied away from the few prospective buyers who did want to take a look, cowering against Desmond or George with her tail tucked and her soulful eyes glued to the ground beneath.

“She’s real friendly,” George would promise. But without any proof of this, time and time again no buyer took the bait.

Back at night at the castle, however, Brindle was a different pup. Seemingly over her pining for her siblings after the first miserable eve, she was sweet and playful with the members of House Ophid-- particularly Sabrina. Whenever the woman came near, the dog’s tail would thump like a boat rudder; half the time she would outright roll over, her belly bared, as she waited expectantly for Sabrina to rub it.

“You’re like, her favoritest, Grandma,” Jane informed her grandmother after the fourth day that Brindle had gone unsold, the girl grinning as Brindle nuzzled Sabrina’s leg while the woman and her grandkids lounged around in one of the private quarter’s smaller parlours, a fire crackling in the hearth along the far wall.

“You are,” agreed George, sighing. Although the littler girls had been excused from the excursions to the market after the first day, George had insisted on coming with Desmond-- and was growing increasingly discouraged. He knew there would only be so many times that his uncle would be willing to set aside his day to attempt to hawk off a puppy that no one wanted before, well-- George wasn’t sure of what would happen then, but he knew he didn’t like it all the same. “I wish she’d act like this at at the market. But she won’t. She just… sulks. And trembles. And tries to hide.”

Sabrina frowned, reaching down towards the puppy and scratching the back of her neck. “She’s shy, I expect. Perhaps she just made a bad association after the first day when going to the market made all her siblings vanish. Not even Phantom can comfort her?”

George shook his head. “No. Phantom doesn’t want much to do with her, honestly.” The boy bit his lip as he glanced over toward the mastiff, who had sidled right up to the warmth of the hearth and was duly ignoring everyone-- puppy included. “After Brindle stopped latching when she was wee, and we all had to hand-feed her, Phantom pretty much ignored her. And as you can see, she still does.”

“That’s not uncommon with runts, or so the kennelmaster says,” Sabrina noted. “I- ugh…”

She broke off as she felt her head and chest starting to heat up, her skin going flush. She put a hand to her forehead as her skull started pounding and sweat started beading on her brow. Woo, when was this going to stop…

At the woman’s feet, Brindle cocked her head and gazed up at Sabrina, her dark eyes meeting the woman’s light brown ones. After a moment, the pup pressed her cold nose against the Ophid’s calf and gave it a tentative lick.

Josie blinked, her eyes going wide. “Grandma, are you okay?” she asked, sounding worried. But then her attention was caught by Brindle. “Brindle, are you trying to help? ...Can you?”

Sabrina gave a wan smile, though she was fanning herself desperately with her free hand. “I’m fine, Josie, just… hot is all.” She pulled off one of her thick winter layers, then reached down to give Brindle a stroke. “It’s sweet you want to help, Brindle, but I don’t know that there’s anything you can do.”

The dog did not seemed dissuaded, practically grinning as she realized that Sabrina was talking to her. Tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth, she gave the woman one last lick before flopping over onto her side and lifting one of her rear legs to expose her fuzzy belly.

“She loves you.” Jane giggled. “You should put her in your lap!”

“Maybe another time,” Sabrina temporized. “The puppy is warm, she’ll only make me hotter.” Still the older woman reached down and gave the dog the belly rubs she wanted. If nothing else it was a distraction. Her voice soft and pitching higher as if she were talking to a baby, she added, “I’m just glad you’re not trying to jump on me without my permission. If you did that I might have to be annoyed with you.”

“She’s a good pup,” George said, smiling softly. “Listens better than Phantom did when she was small, that’s for sure.” With a mischievous glance toward Jane, the boy added impishly, “And better than you listen still, Janie.”

Sabrina smirked, her tone teasing. “Hm. I wonder if maybe we should take Jane to the market instead.”

“Oooh, that’s a thought,” came Desmond’s voice as he walked into the room, giving his nieces and nephew a wink. “What do you all think, should we try it?”

“No!” Jane gasped, before considering for a moment and adding: “Except-- would my new family let me have puppies? An’ my own snakes?”

“We get ‘em when we’re older, Jane!” Josie exclaimed kindly. The look on her face then sobered. “Besides, then you’d be away from us like the other puppies. …Don’t sell her, please!”

“Don’t worry, we won’t sell her,” Desmond replied with a casual flap of his hand. “Though if I were her, I would be careful about making such comments about getting a new family. I don’t think your daddy will like that very much, Janie.”

“Daddy’s not even home,” Jane sniffed, as if Desmond could have somehow missed this fact over the past month and a half. “‘Cos he’s far away. At a fun-er-reel.”

“It’s ‘fune-er-uhl’ Jane,” Sabrina corrected absently, still petting Brindle. The flush had receded somewhat from her face, and she slipped out of the chair so she could pet the dog without having to bend over so far. Looking positively exhilarated, Brindle nuzzled the woman’s hands and wriggled into her lap, giving Sabrina’s face a surreptitious lick as she did.

“And no, actually he’s not,” the young girl’s uncle said with a grin. “I have good news for you, kids. I just got a letter from the border- the funeral is over. Given they can’t be far behind the courier, your parents should all be back in the next three days.”

“Really?” George’s eyes widened, and his bronze cheeks flushed. “Thank Woo. It was starting to feel like they’d never get back!”

“They’re coming! It’s been forever!” Josie cheered, a smile on her face. “Three days, three days…”

“Maybe Daddy got us all gifts!” Jane exclaimed. “Like… like… a snake or puppy!”

“And when he gets back and hasn’t brought you a new pet,” Sabrina put in sternly, “I still expect you to be happy to see him. You should be glad to have your father back, presents or no.”

“Speaking of pets,” Desmond remarked, “I notice you seem to have given preference to the hard floor over a soft chair, Mum. Brindle got you wrapped around her paw that much?”

The Ophid lady shrugged. “I didn’t see any harm.”

“Brindle’s in love,” Jane announced. “An’ Grandma loves her back. Right, Grandma?”

Sabrina seemed caught by surprise at this assertion, giving Jane a startled look, but she didn’t deny it. After a moment she gave a rueful shrug. “I’ve always liked cats more than dogs, but that doesn’t mean I hate dogs. And she gave me something to think about besides my… symptoms.”

“You had another episode?” Desmond asked. “You alright?”

“I’m fine now,” Sabrina assured her son. “Chances are it’ll hit me again tonight, it’s always worst when I try to sleep, but for now I’ll be alright.”

“Aw, Grandma…” Josie frowned. “...But if Brindle’s helping you now, maybe she can help you then too? So she’s helping you more before she gets sold.”

“Oooh!” Jane breathed. “We could do another sleepover! ‘Cos it might be Brindle’s last night here an’ everything!”

The older woman shook her head with a bemused smile. “You’re incorrigible. But fine; one more sleepover before your father gets home. But this time Brindle is sleeping at the foot of the bed!”

“Good luck enforcing that,” Desmond remarked with a smirk.

Josie looked up. “Can I come too?” she pleaded. “I liked the last one, and if it’s the last one for a while…”

“Of course you can, Josie,” Sabrina replied. She glanced towards George, realizing he’d been very quiet, and added, “You can join in as well if you want.”

“A-are you sure?” the boy said, his hazel eyes glimmering with something between reluctance and excitement. “I… I just never want to interrupt anything with Josie and Jane and you… and…”

Sabrina gently hefted Brindle’s front end so that the dog’s paws and head were leaning over her crossed arms and facing George. “You’re as much my grandbaby as Josie and Jane are, young man. If I can make room in my bed for a dog I can make room in my bed for my grandson. And Brindle doesn’t mind do you girl?”

In response, the dog merely thumped her tail and gave Sabrina’s chin another lick; George let through a timid smile. “O-okay then,” he said. “Sure. I’ll join.” He glanced balefully to Jane. “But if you cling to me like you did when we camped out in the courtyard last summer, you can sleep on the floor with Phantom.”

“I was scared then.” Jane jutted her chin. “There were noises!”

“Those were crickets.”

“Or ghosts,” the girl said earnestly.

“You still cling,” Sabrina informed the girl. “But don’t worry George, you can sleep on my other side from Janie. I’ve had enough little ones clinging to me over the years to be used to it. Hopefully we’ll all get a decent night’s sleep.”

**

It was about an hour past midnight, and Sabrina, Brindle, and the children had all finally nodded off, when the door to the bedchamber creaked suddenly open, and a shadowy figure stumbled into the darkened room. At the sound of the footsteps, Phantom-- previously asleep in the corner beside the hearth-- wrenched awake and let a low growl rumble out from her throat, her hackles rising. The newcomer took another step, and the dog’s growling loudened.

“Easy, girl!” a deep male voice hissed into the dimness, accompanied by a small racket as he fumbled about for a match. “Dear Woo-- since when have you slept in here anyway--” A soft yellow glow bathed the chamber as the man lit the candle in the wall-mounted holder by the door. “Easy,” he said again. “It’s just me, Phantom. Just good old me.”

On the bed, Sabrina, who always slept lightly since she’d started having the sweating episodes, stirred, looking up at the familiar voice. “Jason?” she muttered, bleary and confused. She tried to sit up, carefully unlatching Jane from her chest to facilitate it. “You’re back? Why didn’t you tell us you were coming home?”

“But… I did,” Jason-- Sabrina’s husband and the long-reigning lord of Elacs province-- replied, blinking against the influx of light as Phantom, recognizing her master’s grandfather, rose and loped to his side with a wagging tail. “I sent a pigeon as soon as the roads east finally cleared. Over a week ago. You didn’t get it?”

“No,” Sabrina replied, finally prising herself free of her granddaughter's clinging grip and pushing herself up to look her husband in the eye. “We got word that Ben and the rest were en route from Courdon earlier today, but as far as we were aware you were still in Medieville. I suppose the pigeon must have gotten waylaid.”

“So it seems,” he agreed, his light eyes finally falling to the bed. Lowering his voice so as not to rouse the youngsters, the lord of Elacs scanned their slumbering forms and gave his wife a tired smirk. “I see you’re very popular, Sabrina. Phantom, all of the kids...” He paused as his eye fell upon Brindle. “Is… that a puppy?”

The lady of Elacs gave a rueful chuckle. “It was nine puppies. Apparently George was a bit careless during Phantom’s last heat. You missed quite a bit of excitement, I’m afraid.”

“Nine puppies?” Jason choked out. “Dear Woo.” He raked an exhausted hand through his greying hair. “And what, dare I ask, happened to the other eight?”

“Three we managed to give to castle staff,” she answered with a yawn. “Five Des sold in the market. This little girl is the last of the bunch. And the clingiest.” She turned, gently lifting the six and a half week old puppy to wake her. “And clearly does not take at all after the guard dog side of her bloodline. C’mon girl, wake up and say hi to the boss of the family.”

The dog lazily yawned awake, her tail thumping as she gave Sabrina a lick, before she noticed Jason and waddled toward the edge of the bed in the lord’s direction. Seeming to regard Jane’s curled up form as a mere bump in the road, Brindle clambered over it, in the process stirring the girl from her slumber. Blinking drowsily, Jane sat up and looked to Sabrina first, then to Brindle-- and then, noticing the direction of her grandmother and the dog’s gazes, to Jason.

“Grandpa!” she breathed then, scrambling out of the bed and bounding to his side. “You’re home!”

“Shh, you’re going to wake the others,” Jason replied, but he was unable to hide the happiness in his voice as he scooped the tiny girl up into his arms. “I do hope,” he murmured, smoothing her pale blonde hair, “that you’ve been a good girl, Janie.”

“Uh-huh,” she agreed, craning her neck back toward the bed. “An’ we had puppies while you was gone!”

“I told him all about it,” Sabrina assured her granddaughter, stroking Brindle absently. “I think he noticed Brindle in his spot on the bed.”

“Indeed I did,” Jason said, carrying his granddaughter back to the bed and setting her down beside the puppy. “So,” he went on lightly as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt-sleeves, and Brindle watched him with great interest, “nine puppies. Eight given away or sold. And what of this one, Sabrina?”

“Hm, I dunno,” the woman replied, giving her granddaughter a smile. “Earlier today we were discussing selling Jane at the market instead, and she seemed quite taken with the idea- something about a family that will let her have her own snake?”

Jason laughed softly, reaching out to give the girl’s frizzy pigtails a playful tug. “Ah, but they might make her comb her hair. And we can’t have that, honey, can we?” The lord sobered. “Really, though,” he said. “What’s happening with the pup, Sabrina?”

“She…” the Ophid lady looked down at the puppy, her expression almost wistful. Brindle, enthused as always by Sabrina’s attention, turned from Jason and scampered back to the woman’s side, practically bellyflopping into her lap. Sabrina’s eyes softened and she rubbed the dog’s ears.

“She loves Grandma,” Jane murmured solemnly, as the girl nestled back beneath the blankets.

“Does she, now?” Jason asked, quirking his brow as he tugged off his overtunic and kicked off his boots. “Scoot, Janie,” he said, pacing to blow out the candle he’d lit near the door before he climbed into the bed beside his granddaughter. “Make room for Grandpa.”

“So it seems. You know I’ve not been at my… best in recent months, Jason,” the Ophid lady murmured. “She helps distract me. Something positive to focus on when it flares up.” She glanced sideways at her husband. “I won’t force it, I know how you feel about this kind of thing, but…”

“But what?” Draping an arm over Jane’s shoulder as he laid down, Jason fought back a yawn. “Do you not remember, Sabrina?” he asked. “What I offered, Woo-- it must have been thirty years ago. Even more. Before even Benny was born. Let alone this scamp.” He tweaked Jane’s nose.

“I…” Sabrina blinked. But thinking back, she realized she did remember. When she’d first come to Copperhead she’d forced herself to acclimate to all the snakes the Ophids kept, but she’d never really liked them. Jason had, at the time, suggested she could have a dog instead, but the then teenaged young girl had always been more of a cat person, and declined. But cats were too small to cohabitate with all the snakes, so she’d simply gone without a personal pet all these years.

“I guess I had forgotten,” she admitted sheepishly. With a wry smile she added, “Though I wouldn’t want to take for granted a thirty year old offer still being redeemable in any event.”

“Forgot what?” Jane whispered, leaning her head against her grandfather’s chest. “What’d you promise Grandma?”

“Hush, Janie,” Jason said. “Let the adults talk.” Through the darkness, he peered at Sabrina. “After tonight, she doesn’t sleep in the bed,” the lord of Elacs told his wife. “But otherwise, well-- I hardly put an expiration clause on the offer, did I?”

“No, you didn’t,” Sabrina mused. “And I’ve certainly no objections to that- she sprawls like you would not believe, and if she gets half Phantom’s size there won’t be room for us.” She reached a hand to her husband’s and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you, Jason.”

“You’re welcome.” Jason squeezed back.

“Does… does this mean we getta keep her?” Jane, thoroughly shocked, attempted to sit up, but aborted her effort when Jason scolded her and sharply pulled her back down. Unfazed, the girl demanded: “Forever?”

“As long as Grandma can hold her when she’s not feeling well,” Sabrina replied with a smile. “That sound fair?”

“Uh-huh.” Jane reached out to give Brindle a pat, and then glanced past the pup and her grandmother at George and Josie, who were still sound asleep. “They’re gonna be excited, we should wake ‘em up an’ tell them--”

“Absolutely not,” Jason interrupted. “Go to sleep, Jane Marie. And not another word out of you until morning.”

As Jane sighed and fell silent as commanded, Sabrina smiled, lying back down so that her back was pressed against the still dozing Josie’s. On her other side, Brindle seemed to realize that everyone was going back to sleep and eagerly cuddled up to the Lady of Elacs, pressing her cool nose against Sabrina’s neck. The woman reached up and gently stroked the little mutt, until her hand went limp and still on the dog’s back and she drifted into sleep.

[Celestial]

Collab with Avery, takes place in 1381-ish. Featuring Bradley Ophid and his lovely Stallion wife, Alina, and how sickeningly sweet they are. =D Nothing will go wrong.

In a Flash: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

“Bradley, where are you taking me?” Alina giggled, clinging to her husband’s hand. In actuality, she knew perfectly well where they were going; she had, after all, taken this route through the Ophid residence plenty of times with and without him. Bradley was leading her to the stables, but it was the question why he was leading her that intrigued her so much.

She stopped and grabbed him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Come on, tell meeee,” she pleaded. “I’m a busy woman these days, with having a little baby and all. I can’t afford to be running around without knowing what I’m getting into.”

Her husband grinned, leaning forward to plant a playful kiss on her cheek. “Oh, but what’s the fun in ruined surprises, Lina?” His clear blue eyes glimmering with mischief, he shimmed out of her arms and laced his fingers through hers. “You’ll just have to be patient. Now, come on. We should probably escape before Janie realizes we’re leaving her and scampers after us, right?” This was his and Alina’s older child, who had just turned seven and was often loath to let people have adventures without her.

“Oh she’ll be fine. I made sure the nursemaids keep her plenty occupied and she’s got her dear sweet cousins to play with if she does get bored,” Alina replied, returning his grin. Her thumb stroked his hand and she leaned on his shoulder, rubbing her cheek against it. “Please tell me where we’re going. I promise I’ll act surprised when we get there so that it won’t be ruined.”

“Well, let’s see...”

Bradley smirked as he began to walk again, leading his wife alongside him as they passed through a set of french doors that let out into a rear courtyard. It was a bright day-- sunny, with cotton puff clouds listing about the cerulean sky-- and warm but not oppressively so. A gentle breeze rippled the air, lazy and pleasant, and as Alina and Bradley gave wide berth to a wild rat snake that was basking in the sunrays, the Ophid lord leaned down to plant a kiss atop his wife’s plaited auburn hair.

“We’re heading to the stables,” he confirmed lightly. “And I’ve let you wear breeches, so that you can ride astride.” Normally Alina and the rest of the Ophid women were made to wear dresses that relegated them to the cumbersome side saddle. “And well-- when we get to the stables, there may be a trio of knights waiting, ready to accompany us out into the countryside. To the meadow by Glass Lake, in particular. You know, the one all fringed by woods? When I asked Benny”-- this was Bradley’s elder brother, and the heir to House Ophid-- “for his opinion, he assured me that it’s very romantic. The perfect place for a picnic with your wife.”

An enormous smile lit up Alina’s face and she threw her arms around Bradley’s neck. “Oh you...I knew we were going to the stables but this?! Come here,” standing up on her tiptoes, she planted a kiss on her husband’s lips. “I knew something was up when you told me to change out of my dress and into my riding breeches, you never do that, but I didn’t think you had such a surprise planned for me.”

She giggled, moving back to his side and quickening her pace as they approached the stables. “In that case, we definitely don’t want Janie interrupting us. I want you all to myself if we’re going on a romantic picnic...except for those knights,” Alina gave a half-hearted sigh. “Do we have to bring them?”

“Alas.” Bradley placed a mock mournful hand over his heart as the grooms, spying him and Alina, led out their respective horses, already fully dressed in proper tack. “But I’ll tell them to be discreet, Lina. We’ll hardly even know they’re there.”

“I just hope they have the decency to avert their eyes when they are not wanted,” Alina remarked with a sly smile. She stroked her mare on the nose and ran her fingers over her white mane before moving back and leaping into the saddle, settling into it with an easy, practised air. For a moment, she revelled in being able to sit properly without the cumbersome skirts to tangle around her legs before turning to Bradley. “Glass Lake you say? If you have a specific meadow in mind, you better lead. I wouldn’t want to go somewhere different where there is no romantic picnic waiting for me.”

Mounting his own horse, Bradley smiled. “Of course. After me, my dear.”

Alina and Bradley, trailed by the three knights, set a slow pace as they threaded from Copperhead Castle out into the city beyond, but accelerated into a steadier clip once they’d cleared the city walls and proceeded into the surrounding countryside. For such a pleasant day, the winding trail they took to the meadow was lightly traveled, the Ophid party encountering few others as they cantered down it. It had been ages since Bradley and Alina had taken such a jaunt together-- not since before her pregnancy with Alder, who was nearly six months old already-- and the Ophid lord found himself grinning like a lovelorn teenager as the warm breeze rumpled his sandy blonde hair. Sometimes he couldn’t believe his luck-- that a second son like him could land such a wonderful wife. Growing up, he’d hardly expected such a fate. Had hardly expected someone like her: pretty and charming, caring and kind... and even better, he had her all to himself.

“I think your mare’s missed you, Lina,” he said, as the first smudges of forest began to fringe the trail, which narrowed significantly; by the time the contingent reached the meadow and Glass Lake, they’d have cut a twisting path through the thick of the coniferous wood. “I know the grooms have been trying to work her, but nothing like Mummy, right?” He smirked. “Sometimes I think she’s your first daughter, not Janie.”

She laughed heartily at this. “I was born a Stallion, Bradley, horses are in my blood, and I was riding Gale before Janie was even a thought,” Alina replied, gazing down fondly at her mare and patting her neck, in response to which the horse’s ears flicked along with her tail. “She has clearly missed me, and I’ve missed her. Another reason why I appreciate you taking me out this like; I can finally give her the time and attention she deserves.”

Bradley’s smirk melted into a warm smile, his cheeks reddening as the Ophid party rounded a bend in the path and came upon a clump of peasants, who were on foot. The three men, woman, and small girl-- her long, tangled hair the colour of dandelion fuzz-- instantly danced out of the way of the nobles, bowing their heads as they did. Bradley couldn’t help but gaze down at them as his horse trotted by, and as it did, the child briefly wrested her own stare up from the dirt beneath, her eyes latching on his. Immediately, the Ophid lord’s boyish grin disappeared as though somebody had slapped it away. The child couldn’t have been more than Jane’s age, but where in his own daughter’s features Bradley would have found healthy flush and playful smile, in this child’s expression there was nothing of the sort: her eyes, the colour of dull slate, were hard and wearied; her skin was grime-caked and red from the sun; her lips were bitten and wind-chapped, her thin hair as brittle as straw.

When one of the men noticed her looking, he reached out a sharp hand and wrenched her head back down, snarling something indecipherable under his breath. Bradley’s stomach lurched, and he jerked his attention back on the path ahead. In another moment, the group of peasants had been left behind in a thunder of hoofbeats and kicked dirt. But the Ophid’s smile did not return.

Alina had watched the party go by, saying nothing as she did, but she had not failed to spot the pitiful looking girl who had raised her eyes up at them or the man chastising her for it, or at least that’s what it had sounded like. She had not managed to catch the words, only the tone and the man’s body language but it was enough to draw her own conclusions. Reluctantly, she turned away, trying not to think about the miserable company who had passed them by.

Nudging her horse forward, she drew up beside the now oddly-subdued Bradley. “Are you alright?” she asked, her tone now lacking the cheery air it had carried before. “That poor girl, she looked absolutely miserable.”

Bradley shrugged. “She reminded me of Jane,” he admitted. “About the same age. And her hair was the same colour.”

“Yes…” Alina lowered her head before lifting it up again, giving him a weak smile. “But there’s a lot of girls who are like that, and not all of them are as lucky as Janie, unfortunately. You shouldn’t dwell on it, there’s nothing we can do anyway.”

“You’re right.” Bradley sighed. “It’s just… I don’t know.” He shrugged again, his voice trailing off.

Around them, the forest was beginning to thin again, the path once more widening as they neared, then reached, Glass Lake and the promised meadow. The scent of wild honeysuckle and lavender tickled Bradley’s nostrils as he, Alina, and the knights brought their horses to a halt, the sun beating into the Ophid lord’s back as he dismounted. He knew that Alina hardly needed his help in dismounting her own mare, but that didn’t stop him from offering; as a butterfly, its gossamer wings a brilliant gold, drifted beside him, Bradley reached a hand up toward his wife.

Alina glanced down at his hand with some amusement, obviously thinking about whether to accept it. After a few moments, she swung her leg over the side of her saddle and leapt off her horse, landing on her feet with the litheness of a cat. Only then did she walk over and take Bradley’s hand, a sly smile forming on her face.

“Don’t worry, your offer was appreciated,” she told him and stood up on her tiptoes again, planting a peck on his cheek. “Now...how about that picnic you lured me out of the castle for?”

Scowling at her, but without any menace behind it, Bradley glanced over his shoulder at the knights, who’d also dismounted. Having overheard Alina’s request, they needed no other prompting: the first of them, Sir Talgat, hurried to riffle through his saddlebags, quickly producing from them a bulging canvas sack and two bottles of red wine. His comrade, Sir Stathis, withdrew a neatly folded blanket from his own saddlebags, and then bowed his head as he turned to regard Bradley.

“Where shall we set up, my lord?” the knight asked.

“Actually.” Bradley smiled and took a step forward. “You three can stay here. Lina and I can handle it.” He held out his arms to receive the wine, blanket, and rucksack of food. “If you’ll grant us some privacy, sirs.”

“Of course, my lord,” said the third knight, Sir Caulfrey. “If you need anything, we’re merely a call away.”

“We should be fine,” Bradley said lightly. Arms full, he looked back to Alina. “You pick the spot,” he told her, as a fat honeybee buzzed by him adding, “Maybe away from the flowers a bit. So we don’t get harassed. I did, after all, have the cooks make some of those frosted strawberry biscuits you so like. And I imagine the bees might want to share.”

“Don’t be silly, the bees know their place, it’s only wasps that can be aggressive. But it doesn’t hurt to be safe, I suppose,” Alina pulled away from Bradley, skipping through the meadow in a manner akin to a young child rather than a grown woman who had two children herself. She glanced around and turned on her heel, walking up to a spot nearer to the lake. The trees of the forest reached over it, casting dappled shadows across the smooth, grassy ground that only a few feet away melded with a pebbled beach that was lapped at by the crystal-clear waters.

“How about here?” she called back to her husband before turning and looking over Glass Lake, admiring the view. “I think it’s perfect.”

Bradley nodded an agreement, carefully setting down the wine bottles and pack of food before he unfolded the blanket and smoothed it over the grass. As he and Alina sat then, Bradley smiled broadly, draping an arm over his wife’s shoulders.

“I may have packed half the kitchens,” he said, drawing the rucksack into his lap and shaking it open. A crisp loaf of bread tumbled out, followed by a wedge of cheese, a vine of grapes, and several of the promised strawberry biscuits. Practically glowing, Bradley gave the bag another sharp jostle-- and a final item tumbled out. “Oh,” he added coyly, as he scooped up a shimmering bracelet, its silver band embedded with alternating yellow sapphires and garnet gems. “And this. I hope you like it. The yellow’s for Ophid, of course. And the garnet for Stallion.”

Alina’s eyes went as wide as saucers and for a moment, all she could do was stare at the gift that her husband was offering her. That was before a huge grin stretched across her face and she picked the bracelet out of his hands almost like she was picking up a sacred relic. “It’s beautiful, Bradley,” she gasped, her eyes twinkling as though trying to match the gems. Without any hesitation, she wriggled it over her hand and held it up in the sunshine to admire it.

Satisfied with her gift, she threw her arms around her husband, lifting her head up to gaze into his eyes and running her fingers through his blond hair. “I suppose this makes us even. Such pretty jewelry in exchange for carrying and then nursing your son is a fair price in my book.”

Bradley laughed. “Alder’s worth a shiny bracelet. Good to know. I’ll be sure to tell him that when he’s older.” His blue eyes glimmering, he considered for a moment before drawing the small dagger that was holstered at his hip, opposite his wand (he’d left his cumbersome longsword back at the castle). “I convinced Benny to let me bring some good wine,” he said, using the blade to pry out the cork from one of the bottles. “He was attempting to hoard it for Mum’s birthday dinner next month, but what Mum doesn’t know will hardly hurt her, right?”

“Oh of course not,” Alina giggled, reaching over for the vine of grapes. “Though isn’t that the same kind of attitude you got in trouble for as a child, huh, snake charmer?” she pulled a grape off and ate it before taking another. “I wouldn’t want Benjamin to be angry at you over little old me after all,” reaching over, she popped the second grape into her husband’s mouth.

“Ah, Ben will be fine.” Chewing and swallowing the grape, Bradley slipped his dagger back into his belt and then held the wine bottle out to Alina. “Want the first sip?”

“Yes please. I haven’t had wine for so long, I’ve almost forgotten what it tastes like,” Alina smiled, taking the bottle from him and holding it up to her lips, preparing to take a drink.

But the woman hadn’t taken a single sip before a sharp noise rent the breezy air, carving through it like a sword through flesh: a scream. A child’s scream, high and panicked, carrying on the wind like a kite. In a heartbeat, Bradley’s hand danced back to his belt, this time drawing not the dagger, but his wand. Catapulting to his feet, he whirled to face the knights, all three of whom had already yanked out their own weapons, the blades of the longswords glinting beneath the afternoon sun.

“What in ‘Pit?” Bradley snarled as the shriek dropped away for a moment before picking up again, louder this time. The noise was coming from the direction of the forest that fringed the meadow, the screamer concealed by the towering trees, and as the knights hurried toward their lady and lord, Bradley crinkled his brow. “That’s a kid, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord,” said Stathis, his jaw clenched as he and his comrades formed a defensive triangle around their charges. “We’d best stay put.”

“Stay put?” Bradley gawped. “There’s a child screaming in the woods-- we can’t just stay put! What if they’re being attacked? We’ve bears, you know, and cougars, and--” He flicked his gaze down toward Alina, who was still sitting, the wine bottle frozen in her hands. “You stay here,” he said, quickly and authoritatively, wincing as the screams grew shriller yet. “Sir Caulfrey and I will go see what’s wrong with the child. And assist, if need be. Sirs Stathis and Talgat will remain with you.”

She blinked, breaking out of the trance that the scream had induced in her and instantly, Alina’s eyes hardened. “No, Bradley, you’re not being a hero and charging into danger unprepared. Take two knights with you, I’ll be fine here with just the one,” before he could object, she turned to Sir Stathis. “Please go with my husband and make sure that he and the child in trouble are safe. That’s an order.”

Stathis only looked to Bradley, waiting for the lord to either echo or override his wife’s command. Bradley hesitated for a moment, his focus flitting between Alina and the treeline, but then as the child’s screaming segued into outright plea for “help, somebody please help!”, the man squared his jaw and gave a curt nod to all three of the knights.

“We’ll be right back, Alina,” Bradley said. “Don’t move.” His grip on his wand tightening as Caulfrey and Stathis took preemptive steps toward the woods, the Ophid added sharply, “And I mean it, Alina, okay? Just stay put. And if Sir Talgat tells you to do something, then listen to him.”

“Bradley, I’m not a child. I know what to do and I can defend myself if need be, whereas the kid screaming for help can’t. Now go!” Alina ordered, pointing towards the treeline.

“Lord Bradley!” Sir Caulfrey called back to him, stopping to wait for Ophid lord as he reached the woods. “We should hurry, there’s no time to waste.”

With one last furtive glance toward Alina, Bradley took a deep breath and started after his knights, the group setting a brisk, almost frantic pace as they made a beeline for the woods. Once they reached the treeline and threaded into it, it was not all that hard to follow the sound of the screaming-- but as they did, it quickly became apparent that whomever was making the agonized noise was on the move themselves. This was not a quick jog toward a stationary target, but like tracking an animal on a hunt. Which only amplified Bradley’s already-coursing adrenaline and nerves. Woo, what if a wild beast had gotten a hold of the child? What if the poor thing was being dragged off right now, bleeding and half-dead already?

“Should we call out?” Bradley asked Caulfrey and Stathis as the trio twisted nimbly through the dense foliage. “Let them know we’re coming to help?”

“If they’re moving, it would make them at least turn towards us. Granted it could also alert their attackers but if it’s a wild beast, a sufficiently loud noise might draw it away,” Caulfrey replied, keeping up a brisk pace through the trees, his head constantly dashing around to listen not just for the screaming child but for any sign of the enemy. “It’s worth the risk.”

Bradley nodded shortly, taking a deep breath before he shouted: “We’re coming to help! Just hold on-- we’re nearly there!”

At the Ophid lord’s yell, the child went abruptly silent, and at Bradley’s side, Stathis swore under his breath, quickening his pace even further. But all three men faltered when, a few moments later, a new voice screamed back at them, replacing the child’s-- this one a woman’s tone, lower than the child’s had been but equal in its panic. And close, too. Suddenly, they were close; Bradley and his knights couldn’t have been more than a few hundred feet away from the din, although still the trees served to visually separate the parties.

Hesitating for the first time since leaving the meadow, Bradley looked between Stathis and Caulfrey. “Why wasn’t she shouting before?” he murmured.

“It could be she was unable to,” Caulfrey suggested, through his voice bore more than a hint of skepticism. His pace sped up significantly as he took point ahead of the Ophid lord, glancing back at the lord and his fellow knight. “Regardless, Lord Bradley, we better hurry. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get there to help, whatever the situation.”

His stomach pitching just a bit more violently, Bradley started to walk again without another word. Less than a minute later, the tangle of trees gave way to a small, brambly clearing. Bradley’s hand tensed over his wand, and the knights’ grips tightened on their swords, as if all parties expected to be mauled by a charging beast at any moment. But they weren’t, and a cursory sweep of the area revealed no inherent signs of danger-- or even a struggle-- at all.

Rather, a woman crouched in the dirt, her back to Bradley and his knights. Opposite her, facing the noble party, sat a young child, teary and shaken but not, as Bradley had feared, grievously injured (or at least, not at first glance). The Ophid lord’s heart settled for only the briefest of moments before it lurched again, as the child’s stare snapped onto his and he recognized her: the child from the road. The one who’d briefly met his eyes before having her head wrenched down.

Remembering that she’d been accompanied then not just by a woman, but three men as well, Bradley gave the claustrophobic clearing a more thorough visual sweep, as if he could have missed other persons lurking there. But there was no one. What in the ‘Pit? thought Bradley, moving to pass an unsettled look to Caulfrey and Stathis-- but before he could, the woman diverted his attention again as she let out a pitiful, dramatic whimper.

“Oh, thank the Woo,” she moaned, turning to face Bradley and the knights. “My poor girl’s had a terrible fall. Hurt her leg-- and--” She cut herself off as she broke out into a choking sob.

“Her leg?” echoed Sir Stathis, taking a half-step step forward. From the hesitancy in the knight’s movements, Bradley could tell that he, too, had a sudden feeling of something not-quite-right. “Can you not lift her, madam? She’s awfully small.”

Sir Caulfrey stepped forward, unable to disguise the frown that had crossed his face as he analysed the situation. He too, recognised the woman and child and after a few moments, he walked forward towards them, though he kept his grip on his sword in case it was a trap. “She does not look so badly injured, madam, as to be unable to walk,” he said, his eyes sweeping over them both. “Are you also hurt? Where are your companions, should they not have been able to help you?”

“It’s worse than it looks, but I’m okay,” the woman sniffled, as the child stared glassy-eyed at the approaching Caulfrey. “But… companions? I haven’t got any companions. You m-must have mistaken me for somebody else, sir.”

At once, the threading feeling of unease that was coursing through Bradley’s veins segued into something much, much starker. With a white-knuckled grip on his wand, he said sharply to Caulfrey and Stathis: “She’s lying.”

“Affirmative. This is definitely the woman we saw with those three men,” Caulfrey’s frown was now deep and a snarl threatened to break out across his face. He glared right into the woman’s eyes. “What in the ‘Pit is going on? And tell us the truth this time, woman!”

He had no time to get his answer before another woman’s scream ripped through the air. Except this one was very familiar and instead of being incoherent, the name that was being shouted was perfectly clear. “Bradley!”

Alina.

In A Flash: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

Bradley recognized his wife’s voice instantly, and a panic seared through him like a spark igniting dry brush. He spun on his heel back in the direction of the meadow, and as he did, the woman suddenly rocketed to her feet. As she wrested the child into her arms and took a quick step away from Caulfrey, it became immediately and abundantly clear that she was trying to flee. But Bradley hardly noticed, let alone moved to stop her. Especially not after Alina shrieked again, more stridently this time. The Ophid lord did not waste another moment: not even bothering to see if the knights would follow, he surged forward into the trees.

Caulfrey paused for a split-second to decide whether to respond to scream and follow his lord or grab the woman trying to flee. Stathis, however, showed no such hesitation, turning on his heel and racing after Bradley. Seeing that his comrade had things under control, Caulfrey lunged forward and grabbed the woman by the arm, arresting her escape.

“You’re not going anywhere until you explain this,” he hissed.

Meanwhile, Stathis caught up with the Ophid lord as they raced through the forest back to the lake shore. “This was a trap, Lord Bradley They lured us away with the woman and no doubt Lady Alina-” he grimaced. “Why had her ladyship insisted Caulfrey come with us? Woo, if he had remained with Talgat, maybe-” he bit his tongue as he caught himself speculating and quickened his pace back towards the meadow.

The scene they burst in on was a far cry from the tranquil one they had left behind. Sir Talgat was lying on the ground motionless, and though his chest rose and fell, his leg was bent at an unnatural angle. With her bodyguard of the the way, the three bandits had set upon Alina like vultures upon a carcass. She had been pressed face down into the grass with one of the men holding her arms painfully behind her back. Another was tying a rough cloth across her mouth, no doubt to stop her from calling out for help again. Her hair was in disarray and the silk ribbons that had been wound through her braids were now resting in the hands of the third bandit, joined there by her jewelry, including her wedding ring and the bracelet Bradley had given her. She had not gone down without a fight, as testified by a bright reddening mark on the face of the first man and the slight limp of the third. However, the petite Ophid lady was no match for three fully grown hardened criminals, and she seemed to know it. Tears streamed out of her eyes, whether from pain or fear or a combination of both, whilst her lip was bloodied and her cheek was crimson where they too had struck her.

Tearing out from the treeline, Bradley needed but one glance at his wife before rage exploded in him, hot as the sun. It was like breathing, then, no thought or deliberation behind it: still in motion, he thrust his wand outward, toward the third bandit, who was the only one not presently straddling Alina. A stunning spell dripped from his lips, and an arc of light flared out from his wand, slamming into the bandit. The man dropped to the ground beneath like a sack of flour tipping off from a high shelf, landing with an audible thud.

“Give me your sword!” Bradley snarled at Stathis, as the two men bearing down on Alina snapped their gazes toward the Ophid and his knight, swearing as they did. “I can’t cast anything else without risking hitting her-- give me your bloody sword!”

The knight gritted his teeth together at Bradley’s tone, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the sheer rage present in it. However, instead of obeying the order, he gripped the blade tighter and shook his head. “No, Lord Bradley, if I give you my sword, you’ll charge in and do something reckless,” Stathis replied, raising his weapon. “Cover me instead. If we can draw them away from Lady Alina-”

“That was a bloody command!” Bradley growled, before with another glance toward Alina and the bandits, the Ophid lord let out a horrified, frustrated hiss of air. In the last few moments since his companion had fallen, one of the thugs had yanked Bradley’s wife up into a sitting position, so that she served as a veritable human shield in front of him. The other, meanwhile, after a moment’s deliberation, had ratcheted to his feet and turned on his heel, making a beeline toward the opposite side of the meadow. “Dwoofindo!” the lord shouted, flicking his wand, and another slash of light arced out.

The bandit let out a pained cry as a deep slice opened just beneath the back of his knee, taking a few more strides before his knee buckled, and he tripped and skidded to the ground. In turn, the ruffian who held Alina snared his arm even tighter around her, in a grip that had gone from firm to crushing. She moaned with pain, tears streaming out of her eyes and turned her gaze towards Bradley, silently begging him to help her.

Stathis, however, swore loudly as the Ophid lord charged forward. As quickly as he could, he assessed the situation. Two were down and out of action but the third with his arm around Alina was the most dangerous since he had her. They could not fight him until she was out of the way.

“Lord Bradley, get Lady Alina!” he shouted, gripping his sword and getting ready to plunge into the fray. Stathis just prayed to the Woo that Bradley would listen through the red mist of rage that had descended over his eyes.

Bradley, however, seemed beyond rational thought. If he’d been furious and desperate before, the sound of his wife’s new cries sent him into overdrive. He slashed his wand again, sending another stunning spell barreling in the remaining bandit’s direction. But the man jerked aside before it could hit him, dragging Alina along with him, and the stunner smashed instead into a tree off in the distance.

“Let go of her!” Bradley growled, pointing his wand forward as if it were a blade. “Let go of her now, or you will bloody regret it!”

“Not if I can help it,” the bandit cried, snarling at the Ophid like a cornered animal. In one smooth motion, he pulled a dagger from his belt and held it against Alina’s neck. She flinched as the cold metal pressed against her skin, not looking at Bradley anymore but down at the blade that, if she moved incorrectly, would cut her throat.

Stathis swore again and lowered his sword, seeing as he has no choice. “Let her go. We can negotiate if you wish,” he said, taking a step closer to the two. As he did, the bandit twitched and a tiny stream of blood trickled down from underneath the knife. Alina whimpered, visibly shaking and staring up at the knight and her husband, silently pleading with them.

As a growl escaped Bradley’s throat, across the meadow, the ruffian who’d received the cutting spell forced himself up onto his knees, his teeth gritted as he attempted to crawl further away from the conflict. It was an ill-advised venture: Bradley, literally vibrating with rage, needed but one glance at this pathetic attempt of escape before he slashed his wand again.

“Sectwoosempra!” Light flooded out; the bandit dropped cold with an agonized screamed, dozens of gashes opening across his body. “Let go of her!” the Ophid repeated then to the man who held his wife. “Or I’ll cast another of these on him”-- he jerked a sharp hand toward the stunned thug, who still lay prone in the tall grass-- “and you can watch both of your miserable friends bleed to death in front of you!”

“Lord Bradley, don’t be so rash! Do you want to get your wife killed?!” Stathis growled, raising his voice as loudly as he dared to his superior before turning back to the bandit, his eyes steely. “It does not have to be like this. Let her go and in exchange we’ll give you back your friends.”

“Liar!” he cried, keeping his knife pressed firmly against Alina’s throat. If he had noticed the blood dripping down from it, he clearly did not care. “If I do that, you’ll simply kill me too, either now or at the executioner’s block. Now back off or I’ll -I’ll kill her!” as if to compound the threat, he twisted Alina’s arm further behind her, making her cry out in pain.

As his wife screamed out, it were as if something in Bradley snapped completely, any previous scrap of caution gone. Quick as a cat pouncing on a mouse, he whirled on his heel toward the stunned bandit in the grass, and hissed a second sectwoosempra spell. Then, even as the first hints of the pull began to tug at his fingers, he spun back to face Alina and her captor.

Seeing his companion slashed, the bandit holding Alina tore his knife away from her throat and bolted, dragging her behind him by where he had gripped her right arm. She cried out as she was suddenly pulled after the man but they barely got anywhere before Bradley acted.

“Astra incutio,” he snarled, and as beside him Stathis gave a knowing flinch, another band of light flared from Bradley’s wand, which was pointed directly at the bandit’s head-- the only part of him that wasn’t hidden by Alina’s bleeding, quivering form.

It was a direct hit. The man did not even have time to cry out before he convulsed violently, his skin and clothes charring as the electricity passed through him. Most exited through the bandit’s feet and down into the ground but a side stream travelled down his arm and entered into Alina’s. She screamed loudly and on instinct, tore herself out of his weakened grip, collapsing down on to the ground. Behind her, the bandit fell and lay motionless, dead on impact from the lightning strike. Sobbing with pain and fear, she tried to scramble away before her burned arm gave way under her and she fell down into the grass, shivering and moaning while gripping her injury tightly to herself.

Bradley was rocketing toward her side in an instant, an animal cry of misery and shock wrenching from his own throat as he glimpsed his wife’s injury. “Lina.” He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Lina, it’s okay-- you’re okay-- you’re--”

She gave no indication that she heard him, only rolling on to her back and continuing to cry out in pain while her body was racked with sobs. With her good hand, he scrambled in the cold grass, tearing the blades out and pressing them against the burn in a futile attempt to cool it down

“Alina.” Finally putting away his wand, and ignoring the uncomfortable tug at his fingers, Bradley reached down to set a hand on her uninjured arm. “Look at me, please. You’re alright, and just-- look at me, okay? I’m not going to let anyone else hurt you. I promise. I promise.”

“NO!” she screamed, snatching her arm away. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me! I’m not going anywhere!”

Panic directed every single one of her movements as Alina tried to scramble up from Bradley. Though though her eyes were wide she did not seem to see or even care where she was going, only caring about being in any place except the one she was in at the moment. Without even thinking, she leaned her weight on to her injured right arm and with a cry, toppled down on to the grass again.

Bradley swore beneath his breath. “Alina.” He reached toward her again, his grip firmer this time as he curled his aching fingers around her wrist. “You’re hurt. And I… I-- any spell I cast right now won’t be nearly enough to help you. We need to get back to the castle. Now.”

She stiffened at first and her head shot up to look at him but as soon as Alina’s eyes landed on her husband, they suddenly filled with a clarity that had been missing since she had been struck by the lightning. “Bradley…” she murmured, carefully maneuvering herself up into a sitting position before a choking sob escaped from her mouth and she collapsed against his chest. Bringing up her good arm, she grasped the folds of his shirt, clinging to him like a child to a security blanket. “...let’s go home, please.”

Stathis, meanwhile, had sheathed his sword had gone to see to his unconscious companion, kneeling down by his side and looking over the broken leg. A rustle in the trees forced him to snap to attention, his hand flying to his weapon, but he immediately relaxed when he saw it was only Caulfrey, dragging the woman who had lured them into the woods. Wrapped in her arms was the girl.

“Lord Ophid, I-” he broke off as he surveyed the aftermath of the chaos that unfolded. However, his confusion only lasted a few seconds before military discipline took over. “I caught the woman, and the girl. What do you want to do with them?”

“Tie the woman up.” Bradley’s voice was sharp as a blade as he gently stroked his wife’s back. “Sir Caulfrey, you stay here with Sir Talgat and the criminals. None of them ought be bothering you in their states.” He let out a hollow, humorless laugh. “Sir Stathis, you accompany Alina and myself back to the castle. We’ll send reinforcements to mop this mess up from there.”

“And the girl?” asked Sir Stathis, hesitantly.

Clutched in her caught mother’s arms, the child’s cheeks were ruddy, her eyes glossed with tears; she looked absolutely miserable, but with a glance at her now, Bradley no longer saw his daughter Jane. She was only the heart of the trap that had so neatly lured him. The means that had nearly gotten his wife killed.

“Take her with us,” the Ophid lord said coolly. “On your horse, Sir Stathis. If her mother thinks to try anything toward Sir Caulfrey while we’re gone, well.” He smiled thinly.

The knight considered this before he gave a slow, solemn nod. “Yes, your lordship,” Stathis replied heavily and walked over to the girl, reaching out a hand towards the child. Her mother scowled at him and tightened her grip, entwining her daughter in her arms.

“Don’t you dare touch her,” she scowled, glaring right into the knight’s eyes. “You won’t separate us!”

Stathis and Caulfrey exchanged a glance and there was a pause before both of them struck. Caulfrey grabbed the woman’s wrists and pulled them apart. She spat and writhed, resembling more an animal caught in a noose than a human, but a peasant woman was no match for the strength of a fully trained knight. Slowly, her arms were pried off the child and Stathis took his chance, lunging and snatching her away to himself. The girl screamed and reached back towards her mother but neither could escape the vice-like grips of the knights who held them.

“No!” the woman cried and her head twisted around, her teeth flashing as she tried to bite down on Caulfrey but he was too quick, snatching his hand away before she managed to do anything. They struggled for a few brief moments before Caulfrey grabbed her wrists and twisted them painfully behind her back.

Unlike her mother, however, the girl did not struggle against Stathis’s grip but silently followed him, staring ahead at something far away that only she could see. The knight took the reins of his horse and walked it over closer to where Caulfrey was gripping the woman. Reaching into his saddlebag, he produced a coil of rope which he handed to his comrade, who took it gratefully and wrapped it around her as per Bradley’s orders. Once they were sure the mother was secure, Stathis, picked up her daughter and sat her down into the saddle of his horse before climbing in after her and taking the reins, effectively trapping the girl with his arms.

Once he was sure she was secure and not likely to wriggle off the horse, Stathis lifted up his head and turned his attention to Bradley and Alina.“Do you require help, Lord Ophid?”

Bradley, impassive through the struggle between the knights and the woman, shook his head. “No,” he said, before smiling softly down at Alina and adding, “Can you walk? Or do you want me to lift you?”

She went silent, choking back her sobs but her fingers tightened over the folds of his shirt as though she expected him to disappear at any moment. “I can, but...help me up, Bradley, please,” Alina murmured, still keeping her head down and resting against his chest.

He nodded, without a word helping to gently ease his wife to her feet. He kept a death grip over her uninjured arm, however, as he proceeded to lead her toward the horses, cursing himself every time he glanced at her macabre injury. Woo, why in the ‘Pit had he gone and pulled himself beyond the point of being able to reasonably help her!?

At the horses, he didn’t even offer to let her ride her own mount, rather assisting her as she climbed up to the saddle of his mare before he mounted behind her. “When we send back reinforcements, they can fetch Gale, okay?” he said, knowing how much his wife’s horse meant to her.

Alina nodded and closed her eyes, leaning back against him. “Please,” she murmured. A lock of her auburn hair hung limply down across her face, and normally she would have swept it away but she could barely muster the energy to lift either of her arms, whether injured or not. Tears began to ooze out of her eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Bradley,” she whispered. “I tried to fight them but they were no match for me.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bradley said, spurring the horse forward and nodding for Stathis to fall in line beside him. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lina. I’m the idiot who fell into their trap. The one who let you get hurt-- who--” He cut himself off with a frustrated hiss. “Everyone’s going to pay for this,” he went on starkly. “If those two wretches don’t bleed to death first before we can get aid back to the meadow, they’ll only wish they had.”

Alina froze, opening her eyes to stare at her husband in horror. “You can’t mean that, Bradley. You’re not...it’s not like you to-” she cut herself off, biting her tongue and looking away from him. A shudder ran down her spine and she touched the skin just above where her burn was. Her breathing suddenly grew very rapid and she tore herself away from his touch, leaning closer to neck of the horse and wrapping her arms around herself.

“P-please, get me home, as quickly as possible. I-I beg you,” she murmured, grinding her teeth together to stop her voice from quivering.

Bradley nodded, spurring the horse harder. “As quickly as we can, my love,” he promised. “As quickly as we possibly can.”

In a Flash: Part Three

SPOILER: Click to show

The two men indeed bled out before any reinforcements could arrive, but while Sir Talgat would be out of commission for some time nursing the injuries to his leg-- which was tender even after being seen to by a healer-- he would, ultimately, live to tell the tale. The same could not be said for the woman who had used her child to spring the trap: the day after his son and daughter-in-law barrelled through the castle gates with the latter’s arm smoldering with corded burn marks, Lord Jason Ophid-- the long-reigning head of Elacs province-- ordered her to hang.

Bradley was not quite sure how to break this news to Alina, who’d always been sympathetic and gentle to a fault. Part of him didn’t even think he should tell her at all. Especially given how skittish she’d been since the chaos, hardly able to meet his eye and flinching away from him whenever he drew too near like a spooked, wild animal.

Bradley’s older brother, Benjamin, suggested that Bradley ought leave her alone for as long as she needed. Give her time in quiet and solitude, and when she was ready to talk to him again, she could seek him out, not the other way around.

But Bradley couldn’t bear to. Seeing her fragile and injured-- her arm laced with bandages that oozed ointments; a tremble to her jaw when she spoke to him-- was a punch to the Ophid’s gut, but not seeing her at all? He couldn’t fathom it. Couldn’t just abandon her. Not after nearly losing her.

And anyway, three days after the bloody scene in the meadow, he thought he had something that might finally perk her up: their daughter, Jane. The young girl had been begging to see her mummy for days now, and although so far she’d been firmly kept away, the child’s patience was wearing thin. She promised that she’d be good, that she wouldn’t touch Mummy’s hurt arm, that she would listen to whatever Mummy and Daddy told her to do. And although part of Bradley was still reluctant, he also realized that if there was something out there that could improve Alina’s spirits, Janie would be it.

“Remember,” he told the child as he knocked on the door to Alina’s chamber and waited for his wife to bid them entry, “don’t touch Mummy unless she says you can, okay?”

The girl nodded earnestly. “Uh-huh!”

“I mean it, Janie,” her father responded, the soft smile he spared her not at all matching the firmness of his words. “Hands to yourself. Like in church.”

“I promise,” Jane said, crossing her arms tightly at her chest as though to demonstrate.

“Janie, is that you?” Alina’s voice trilled on the other side of the door, the cheeriness in it a complete contrast to her mood over the past few days. “Come in, honey! I’ve missed you!”

Without waiting for her father, Jane-- a broad smile breaking out across her face-- pushed open the door. As Bradley called after her to be gentle, the girl darted for her mother’s bed, her cheeks flushed as she climbed in beside Alina, rumpling the covers as she did.

“Mummy!” the girl breathed. As her flint grey eyes settled on the mess of bandages covering Alina’s arm, Jane’s jaw fell open. “Does it hurt?” she asked. “That looks worse than the time George fell out of the tree in the courtyard when he was playin’ with me and Josie and got all scraped up!”

She laughed. “It does hurt, Janie, but the healers have been making it better. Soon I’ll be back to normal,” Alina said with a wide smile as she sat up and put her good arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Have you been behaving in the meantime? I hope you’ve been looking after your baby brother for me.”

“She’s been a good girl,” Bradley said from the doorway, taking a few steps toward his wife and daughter. “Although she’s refused to let her nursemaid brush her hair, as per usual,” the man went on lightly, gesturing to the child’s tangled white-blonde locks. “And Woo knows poor Leyla isn’t willing to pin wee Janie down to get the job done like good ol’ Mummy.” He smirked.

“Leyla said she’s going to tell Grandma or Aunt Risa,” Jane said somberly. “But I don’t want them to brush it, either.”

“Woo forbid you have your hair combed, yes.” Bradley took another measured step forward. “Now that would be the travesty of the year, Janie. Having knot-free hair. If only Mummy could truly understand such horrific agony.”

Alina’s eyes flickered over to Bradley when he spoke, her smile freezing and her breath catching in her throat before she forced herself to look at her daughter. As soon as she did, however, her expression became far more genuine again. With an exaggerated sigh, she lifted up her hand and ran her fingers through Jane’s thick hair. “Well then, now I have yet another reason to get better: so I can pin you down and get that crow’s nest of yours resembling something decent.”

She gestured at her own light auburn hair, combed and neatly braided into a simple plait hanging down her back. While her arm was out of action, the servants had been keeping it neat for her, though they could not manage the complex styles Alina usually did for herself. “Even when sick, your Mummy makes sure her hair is done up nicely. So what’s your excuse, young lady?”

“I dunno,” Jane murmured, fidgeting as her mother touched her hair. Her gaze still trained on Alina’s arm, she added after a moment, “They can’t hurt you again, Mummy? Right? The bad people?”

“No, Janie, they can’t. The bad people are…” Alina looked down at her hands, a small frown crossing her face. She glanced sideways at Bradley briefly before averting her eyes as though she was afraid of getting caught peeking. Then, after pondering for a few moments, Alina turned back to her daughter.

“Listen, honey, could you go outside and play for a bit?” she smiled widely and stroked her hair. “I want to speak to your dad about something.”

“Can I see you again later?” Jane asked, cocking her head. “I miss you.” The little girl swallowed hard. “Maybe I could do a sleep-over with you.”

“I would like that. As soon as I get better, we can have a sleep-over. Maybe we can even have cake if you behave, which means letting either your nursemaid or grandma comb your hair,” Alina leaned forward and planted a kiss on her daughter’s forehead before giving her a push away. “Go for now. I’ll call you back as soon as me and daddy have talked.”

“Honey cake,” Jane said with a firm nod, before returning the kiss and climbing off the bed; as the child scampered into the hall, Bradley shut the door behind her without taking his eyes off Alina.

They were alone. Alina ducked her head down, not wanting to look at him. Ordinarily, she would not have minded being in the company of her husband but now his presence conjured up all sorts of images in her mind: the charred body of her captor hit by lightning, the two men groaning and bleeding out, Bradley casting those spells without so much as flinching...

She shivered and swallowed, pushing those thoughts as far away as she could, though Alina could still not meet her husband’s gaze. “...what happened to the bandits?” she asked. “I know you...you killed one, but the others...and the woman and her child? What became of them?”

A lump welled in Bradley’s throat, and he swallowed it away. He’d known he would not be able to avoid the issue forever, but still he wished it hadn’t come up so soon. At least not until she was further along in the healer process. Less fragile.

“The woman is in the city jail, for the moment,” the Ophid lord said slowly. “And the child with an uncle.” He hesitated. “The bandits…”

Alina clenched her teeth together, already knowing what he was going to say. “They’re dead, aren’t they? Given what you did…” she shuddered again, hugging the blanket around herself. In theory, she knew he was capable of it, Bradley was after all a trained warmage, but she had never expected him to be so vicious, bandits or not. To think of him as a murderer...the thought refused to settle in her head.

“I’m glad the girl is safe at least,” she smiled weakly. “It’s nice that she has family who would look after her.”

“They are dead,” Bradley agreed. “But yes, the girl’s okay. The knight who delivered her said her uncle seems like a decent man. He’s an apothecary. Her mum’s brother.”

“So she’ll be taken care of. Good. After that, she deserves a better life,” Alina murmured and sank down into her bed. All this time she had not met her husband’s gaze. Woo, his voice had barely even twitched when he said that the bandits were dead.

“How can you be so calm, Bradley?” she suddenly cried out. “Don’t you care that you killed three men?!”

“Alina.” Bradley’s voice cracked, as the man outright flinched at his wife’s sudden shift in demeanour. He wanted to rush to her side-- hold her, comfort her-- but he did not dare, his jaw trembling as he continued, “I… they-- they were hurting you. I… I did what I had to, I--”

Clutching her blankets tightly, the Ophid lady shook her head. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful. If you had not come when you did, I don’t want to think about what would have happened. But...but…” Alina’s head shot up to look at him for the first time since he entered. “I know you, Bradley! You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’ve always been good to me, to Janie and Alder, you love your children and I love you-”

She brought a hand up to her forehead, covering her eyes. “I can’t reconcile the man I know and the cold, calculated one I saw by the lake then. And now that I know he exists...I’m scared.”

Bradley blinked hard. If he’d been cool and collected whilst talking about the fate of the bandits, every scrap of composure was gone now, disappeared like smoke against a silver sky. Still not daring to move closer to his wife-- especially not now that she’d admitted she was afraid of him-- he forced a deep, raspy breath. His hands shook. His brow was knitted.

“I’m so sorry that I hurt you, Alina,” he said, still hating the fact that this was true. That it was his lack of impulse control-- his spell-- that had so badly burned her. That would leave her with permanent scars even once the worst of the wounds healed. “And I… I wish I hadn’t had to kill them. But I did what I had to do. And after what they were doing…” He gritted his teeth. “I can’t feel remorse about killing them. I just can’t.”

“I know, and I cannot feel much for them either, not after what they did. But if it had been Sir Caulfrey or Sir Stathis who killed them, I wouldn’t have batted an eye,” Alina sighed and turned back to him, looking slightly more composed, though her damp eyes betrayed how deceiving looks could be. “My wounds will heal, Bradley, and Woo knows, without the healers I might have lost my entire arm. I just...I don’t want to see that side of you ever again. That’s not how I want to think of my husband.”

“I hope I won’t have to do anything like that ever again,” Bradley agreed. He knew still that he ought not approach her, but seeing his wife like this-- gulping, he took a hesitant step forward, and when Alina did not recoil, followed it with several more, until soon he’d arrived to her bedside. “I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured, dropping down to sit beside her. “You know that, right? I… I would do anything for you. Anything.”

Alina remained sitting in place, quiet even as Bradley sat down beside her. After a short while, however, she lifted up her good arm, reaching towards him. “Could you…” her voice quivered. “Hold me?”

“Of course.” Bradley, his heart thrumming in his throat, repositioned himself to slide behind her, his arms tender as he wrapped them around her. “It’s all going to be okay, Alina,” he whispered. “I promise you.”

She nodded weakly, not having the will or the desire to believe otherwise. Gripping him with her good arm, Alina leaned into Bradley’s hold, resting her head against chest. Warmth poured into her from his body and she basked in it like one of his beloved snakes. This was her husband, not the cold killer by the lakeside. That man was just a fluke, a side that crept out under desperate circumstances. Alina prayed she would never see him again, though she knew it was useless: that face would haunt her nightmares whether she liked it or not. Hopefully Bradley, the real, normal Bradley, would be there to comfort her when that fragment dared to invade her mind.

“Woo, it was supposed to be such a nice picnic too…” she murmured and lifted her head up, smiling weakly at him. “Hopefully we can make up for it sometime.”

“I’ll never let anything like that happen to you again,” Bradley said by way of answer. “I swear that on my life.” He stroked a gentle hand through her rusty locks.

Alina nodded in response to that, leaning back against him. “So...what’s going to happen to the woman, and the girl? The men are dead but those two...what did Lord Jason decide?”

Bradley hesitated. “Father was… upset,” he replied. “He… wanted to send a clear message about what happens when you harm members of this House.” His hand froze in her hair. “The girl will be alright-- the uncle I mentioned earlier has agreed to take her in. But the woman... Father’s ordered her hanged.”

Hanged. At that word, Alina stiffened in his arms before closing her eyes and nodding. “...I should have expected it, given what happened. She was complicit in the crime so...it’s only just,” he sighed. “It’s the child I feel sorry for in all this, being used in such a disgusting manner. If anybody dared to use Janie, or Alder in such a way-”

An angry growl escaped from her throat before Alina could control it. Shaking her head, she looked back at Bradley. “You say her uncle is a good man at least. Are you absolutely sure?”

“He seems decent enough,” Bradley said. “And he’s fairly well-off, too. Apparently the little one’s mother ran off when she was sixteen, got tangled up with… sorts less savoury. But her birth family-- they’re good people. The girl will be cared for there.”

She lowered her gaze, pondering this for a short while before her blue eyes flickered up at him. “I’d like to meet him and see for myself, Bradley,” Alina said and gave a sigh. “No matter how they treated her, her entire family are still dead. She deserves a good life more than anybody else.”

“Meet him?” Bradley furrowed his brow. “But… Alina…” He sighed. “You shouldn’t worry yourself about such things, sweetheart. You need to focus on healing. Getting better.”

“I will get better, don’t you worry. But once I do, I’d like to,” she shot him a sweet smile. “Please, Bradley? It would help ease my mind, otherwise I’ll just keep thinking what happened to her.”

“Fine.” But Bradley didn’t sound happy about it. “I’m coming with you, though. And not until your arm’s all healed, Lina. That’s nonnegotiable.”

“Alright,” Alina nodded, leaning back against the pillows of the bed. “I would not want to traipse around Copperhead like this anyway. It would look bad,” she glanced up at him. “Just don’t scare either of them, Bradley.”

“I won’t, Lina,” Bradley said. “I promise.”

**

The woman hanged the next Saturday, and the week after that, with her bandages off and the burns merely subsisting on her arm as a tangle of corded scars, Bradley reluctantly obliged Alina’s request to visit the little girl at her uncle’s. The man, an apothecary, had a shop in the middle of Copperhead’s merchant district, quaint but well-maintained, with a gray stone exterior and broad windows that let in an abundance of light. The bell overhead jingled as Bradley opened the door, the lord waiting to let Alina through first before he trailed in after his wife. A pair of knights flanked both of the nobles, including Sir Stathis (Sir Talgat was still out of commission recovering from his injuries).

“Hello?” Bradley called out once they were inside, giving the shop a quick visual sweep. It was small but orderly, smelling heavily of herbs, its towering shelves packed with a rainbow of potions, pomades, and powders. “Anyone here?”

“Yes, yes, coming!” called out a voice, as a man hurried out from behind a heavy beaded curtain that separated the front of the apothecary from the private back rooms. He was young-- no more than twenty-five, if that-- with a shock of white-blonde hair and eyes the color of spun honey, and when he laid eyes on the nobles and the knights, he froze in place as if he’d been slapped. “M-my lord, my lady.” He dipped his head into a bow. “How many I assist you today?”

“Please do not be afraid of us,” Alina stepped forward away from Bradley and towards the man, spreading out her arms as if to show they indicated no harm. “You’re the one who adopted the girl recently, right? The one whose mother was...” she swallowed, “Well, executed, to put it bluntly.”

She took a moment to glance around the shop. It certainly seemed like a respectable establishment, certainly not short of business by the looks of the stock on the shelves and how well-maintained it was. Turning back to the man, he too did not strike Alina as anybody to be wary of leaving with a child, if he was indeed who she thought he was.

“You’re her uncle, am I right?” she asked, trying to confirm it.

The man nodded hurriedly. “Yes, my lady,” he said. “Macie is my sister’s child. Or… was my sister’s child. But I’m caring for her now.” Daring to bring up his gaze, he smiled warily. “I… I apologize for my sister’s actions. For how she… harmed you. She was not a bad woman, but she fell to wicked things.” He swallowed hard. “Wicked people.”

“I understand and I don’t blame you for what she did. She made her choice and she paid for it,” Alina lowered her eyes. Even if the woman deserved her fate, it nevertheless felt somehow inappropriate to discuss her execution with her relation.

Shaking her head, she looked back up at the man. “How is Macie settling in? I hope she’s doing better now that she’s got somebody who will look after her instead of simply using her.”

“She’s doing as well as can be expected, my lady,” the apothecary replied. “I’ve a son a few years older than her, and I think she finds him comforting. They’re out fetching water for me now. Macie clings to him like a shadow.”

A soft smile settled on Alina’s face. “Good, I’m glad she had a friend to look after her,” she burst into a giggle. “Though I hope your son does not mind having her follow him around as though he’s a mother hen. I know some boys would get sick of that.”

The apothecary seemed shocked by the Ophid’s laugh, but he could only match it with a small chuckle of his own as he said, “I think he likes it, to be honest. His mum died giving birth to him, and he’s always been itching for company. A sibling. I’ve had no complaints out of him so far, Lady Ophid.”

“That’s good, and I do hope that he finds having a sibling to be worth the trouble. Or that both of them do, for the matter. I remember my own brothers and how we sometimes used to disagree…” Alina coughed, realising she was going on a tangent. “Anyway, I’m glad things are well here. That’s all I needed to know: that she would be looked after.”

She held out her hand to the man. “If you have any trouble and require our aid, please tell me and I will do my best to give it to you. Macie deserves a good home and I want to help provide that.”

“That’s… very generous, my lady.” The apothecary glanced to Bradley. “My lord.”

Heretofore silent, Bradley forced a shallow smile. “My wife has a kind heart,” he said. “And a soft spot for children.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. Remind me, who is Jane and Alder’s mother again?” Alina smiled at her husband before turning back to the apothecary. “Don’t forget that offer. I hope Macie grows up to be a fine young woman in your care.”

“I’ll do my best with her,” said the man. “Treat her as my own.”

“A relief to hear.” Bradley glanced back toward the door. “Shall we, Alina?” he asked, reaching for his wife’s hand.

“Yes, I’ve heard everything I needed to hear,” the Ophid lady reached out and took his hand. “Let’s go home.”

[Shinko]

This story jumps back in timeline a bit from most of the stories on this thread- it takes place in early autumn of 1346, back when Jason and Sabrina were still newlywed. A collab between myself and Avery

Port in the Storm: Part One

SPOILER: Click to show

“Do you see it, Sabrina?” the young lord asked his wife, a soft smile between his lips as he craned his neck to glimpse out the carriage window. “Up there, squint your eyes—see the dash of blue against the horizon?” As if afraid that she still didn’t, he eased a light arm around her shoulder and gently turned her a few degrees to the left, so that she was angled slightly in her seat. “There. Straight ahead.”

The blonde teenager scanned the view outside of the carriage windows, then her chocolate brown eyes widened. “Is… is that it? The ocean? Woo, it goes in both directions as far as I can see!”

Her husband laughed, his light blue eyes glimmering. “The ocean, indeed,” he agreed. “Pretty, isn’t it?” After a moment’s hesitation, he brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. “Our cottage is really close-- only a few hundred feet from the beach. It’s all fenced off, too. Private. We can go swimming, if you’d like.”

Sabrina grinned, her youthful face bright with excitement. “I’d like that, Jason- back in Heleos there was a huge lake just a twenty-minute or so ride out of the city, and we used to go swimming there all the time in the summer. I’ve… I’ve missed it.”

Jason Ophid’s heart lurched a little, but he dared not betray this on his face, maintaining a frozen smile as he gave his wife a short nod. Three months now they’d been married, ever since the end of May, and while he knew growing pains were to be expected in any political marriage-- especially when one of the partners was so very young, as Sabrina was, their nuptials taking place but two days after her sixteenth birthday-- sometimes it still shook Jason, when his bride let slip little things like this. She missed her parents. She missed her bedroom. She missed swimming. At hearing these declarations a bud of nausea would bloom in his throat, thick and creeping like ivy, as he realized all over again exactly what he’d done when he had demanded that House Escalus let him marry Sabrina the moment she came of age if they wanted to make a deal with him. It had all seemed so very wise and logical back then-- when Sabrina was merely a concept, not a person, and his advisors were all breathing down his neck about how he was the lord of all of Elacs, and he needed to secure his line, now.

Since then he’d spent half his time feeling like a horrible person, and the other half desperately attempting to make things as pleasant for his new wife as he feasibly could. Hence why, after receiving word that a very high-profile spice trader from the kingdom of Mzia was heaving to in the Elacs port city of Grayia, and receiving heavy-handed suggestions from his council that he be there to greet them, Jason had come up with the idea of bringing along Sabrina. The Ophids had a summer cottage in Grayia, after all-- a rambling stone bungalow that sat in the tall grass just off the shore, and that always smelled of freshly washed linens and crisp, salty air-- and even if Jason had to spend some time making nice with the traders, well… He could spend the rest of the trip with his wife. And then maybe, just maybe, the ice between them would begin to thaw. His gut would no longer churn so violently each time she off-handedly mentioned home. And Sabrina, well-- maybe Sabrina wouldn’t be quite so melancholy, waxing for the life he’d made her leave behind.

“The city is nice, too,” the Ophid lord said now, as evenly as he could manage. “Quaint, compared to Copperhead. It’s a different atmosphere. Much… calmer, I suppose.”

“I look forward to seeing it,” Sabrina said. “If merchants from Mzia put to port there, I imagine there will be a lot of interesting things for sale- do you suppose we could browse the market a bit?” Hurriedly she added, “We don’t have to buy anything, of course, but just to look. The only foreign country I know much about is Courdon and in my lifetime things haven’t really… been on trading terms.”

“We can look and buy,” Jason replied. “We’ve only so much room in the carriage, so nothing big, but-- if you see anything you’d like while we’re out, just let me know, alright?” He met her eyes, adding, “Maybe we could go riding, too. If you want. There are some interesting trails outside the town. That twist up into the foothills.”

“That sounds like fun,” she chirped. “Or we could ride along the ocean too, if there’s time enough. What about you? What sorts of things do you like to do when you come here? If there’s a vacation home I presume you’ve been a few times at least.”

“I haven’t been in a while, admittedly,” Jason said. “Not since maybe… a year before Father died? So that was, Woo-- three or four years ago at this point. We’d usually just relax on the beach. Meander around town with my sisters. Father would take me hunting, as well, but…” He gave his wife a wan smile. “I can’t imagine you’d enjoy that, Sabrina.”

She gave an apologetic smile. “Not really, sorry. Grandpa likes falconry, but nobody else in the family was ever really interested. But relaxing on the beach sounds nice- maybe we could have a picnic?”

“Of course. A picnic sounds lovely.” He winked at his wife-- then immediately regretted it, his cheeks burning red. “Um.” Raking a hand through his tousled chestnut hair, Jason nudged his chin back toward the window. “City’s coming into view-- see the gates up there? Only another hour or so, and we should be at the cottage.”

Sabrina blinked in surprise at Jason’s sudden change in mood, her gut squirming. Had she done something wrong? Biting her lip, she followed her husband’s gaze, then nodded. “I see it. Hopefully… hopefully we can both have a good time.”

When the carriage arrived to the cottage a little over an hour later, Jason gave Sabrina a brief tour of the grounds as waiting servants scurried out to ferry in their lord and lady’s luggage. Though modest compared to the sprawling lands upon which Copperhead Castle sat, House Ophid’s summer home was still impressive by most means, occupying a large, fully fenced plot that straddled the beach on one side and pastoral, rolling hills on the other three. Inside, the windows had all been propped open to let in the light and sea air, and Jason gingerly held Sabrina’s hand as he showed her from room to room, finally drawing to a halt in the largest of four bedsuites. An airy sitting room opened up to an even airier sleeping chamber, with a canopy bed-- so tall that it nearly reached Sabrina’s chest-- sitting in the center of it and fringed on either end by floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the shore beyond. A seagull was sunbathing on a rock nearby. Its feather gleamed like molasses beneath the bright midday sun.

“You like it, Sabrina?” Jason asked softly, letting go of her hand. “I sent servants several days ahead to make sure it was all cleaned up. No dust or vermin to bother us.”

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, walking over to the window and pressing a hand against it as she gazed out over the open water. “I don’t know how you can bear to leave this when your vacations end.” With an amused glance over her shoulder she added, “Though I didn’t see any slithery residents in any of the rooms so far, so I guess that’s one reason.”

Her husband chuckled. “It wouldn’t make financial sense to house a permanent collection here. And Woo knows snakes aren’t exactly eager travelers.” He paced to her side at the window. “Some of my earliest memories are at this place, you know. Mum playing with me in the water. Falling asleep in my father’s lap to the sound of waves breaking against the shore. Being here brings back so much of my childhood.”

“It’s strange to think of you as a child, my lord,” Sabrina said with a hint of teasing in her tone. “You mean you weren’t always the mighty lord of Elacs? You’ll have to tell me some stories. Especially the embarrassing ones.”

Jason quirked a brow. “Oh, no. I could never. And if you ask either of my sisters once we get home, they certainly won’t immediately begin blabbering your ear off with mortifying tales of young-Jason.” Reaching out delicately toward her, Jason draped an arm around his wife’s shoulder and drew her close. “How about we spend the rest of the day relaxing, and then wake up early tomorrow and go for a ride? The Mzians aren’t expected in until late afternoon at earliest, so we can be back with plenty of time.”

“That sounds lovely,” Sabrina agreed, smiling up at her husband, not resisting but not relaxing into his hold either. “After the long ride I could stand to stretch my legs a bit- you want to go down to the shore and dabble our feet in the water?”

“Sure,” he replied. “Let’s just wait until our luggage is all unpacked first. Get out of these rumpled travel clothes and put on something lighter. And…” He took a deep breath. “I want this trip to be nice for you, Sabrina. So… if there’s anything you want to do in particular, or anything you’d like-- just let me know, okay?”

She blinked in surprise, but then she nodded, her brown eyes softening. “Alright. Thanks, Jason. I know I haven’t… been very good at adjusting, but I’m glad you’re patient. And that you want to be a friend to me.”

“You’re doing fine, Sabrina,” Jason assured her, his stomach pinching all over again. “And of course I want to be your friend-- you’re my wife, after all. And I want you to be happy.”

***

After a relaxing afternoon and eve spent splashing in the ocean and then lounging around the cottage, Sabrina and Jason awoke bright and early the next morning, starting out on horseback toward the meandering trails outside the city just as the sun began to creep up over the horizon. Accompanied by a minimal escort of knights, the lord led his wife across the paths he’d ridden with his family in his childhood, the nobles pausing here and there to admire a particularly pretty bit of scenery, or wade into the shallows of the small lakes and ponds that dotted the hilly terrain.

“These more like your Corvid bogs?” Jason teased a few hours into the ride, lingering back on the bank as Sabrina shucked her shoes to swirl her feet through the clear water of a lily pad studded pond. “Just be careful not to get too muddy, huh? You don’t want to be uncomfortable once you dry again.”

Sabrina laughed. “If you think this is a bog, you would be very unhappy in Corvus. The swamps have mud so deep you can literally get stuck in it up to your calves. And half the time the surface of the water is covered in pond scum that looks like normal ground to the inexperienced eye- so you can walk right out onto the water and fall through.”

“And people there complain that the snakes are dangerous,” Jason said dryly. “The earth disappearing beneath you sounds a bit more terrifying, but maybe that’s just me.” He blinked abruptly as a drop of moisture splashed against his nose, leveling a befuddled look toward Sabrina-- before another bead hit him, and he realized it was not coming from the pond at all. “Oh, Woo. Rain.”

Sabrina, who had at almost the same moment noticed ripples appearing on the surface of the pond, gave a disappointed sigh. “Ah, that’s a shame. I was rather hoping to stay out longer, but I doubt the Mzians will think highly of us if we show up soaking wet.” She chuckled. “And here I thought it was just Corvus that had unexpected out-of-nowhere storms. Elacs is trying very hard to emulate my birth region today.”

“It’s probably just a squall-- it’ll pass,” Jason said lightly. He picked up his wife’s shoes. “Hey, since your dress is all mussed anyway, do you want to ride behind me? I’ll be a gentleman and hold onto these for you. Lest my poor wife has to squish her soggy feet into damp shoes.”

“Preserving yourself from the splendid odor that comes from wet feet in shoes, I see how it is,” Sabrina said with a smirk. “But I’ll take you up on that, Woo knows I don’t care to get blisters if I can avoid it.”

As the sun overhead slipped behind a veil of silvery stormclouds, Jason laughed and took a step back toward his horse. “At least riding in rain is better than riding in snow. Last time I was in the capital, I thought my face was going to freeze off.” He slipped Sabrina’s soggy shoes into his saddlebag. “You need a boost, Sabrina?”

She flushed. “Probably. It’s harder to mount into an astride saddle in skirts, and the stirrups aren’t kind to bare feet. Sorry, Jason.”

Motioning her toward him, Jason furrowed his brow. “Why are you apologising? You haven’t done anything wrong.” He sighed as the rain began to drum more steadily, audible as it splashed against the pond-water. “Woo, it had better not start storming now. Our Mzian guests will be cross.”

“We’d best hurry back to the cottage, or I imagine you are going to be cross,” Sabrina said. “And our friends over there as well.” She tilted her head in the direction of the accompanying knights.

As if on cue, one of the knights snapped his head into a polite bow and started, “Permission to speak, my lord?”

Jason nodded, placing a steadying hand on Sabrina’s hip as she paced to his side and he began to help her into the saddle. “Of course, Sir Keyes.”

The knight lifted his gaze. “The horizon doesn’t look good.”

“Isn’t it just a squall?” The Ophid lord pursed his lips. “Father always said they’re common near the sea.”

Sir Keyes smiled timidly. “Perhaps,” he conceded. “But… my lady probably has the best idea, when she suggests we hurry back.”

Sabrina bit her lip, wondering what the knight was implying by that. “We can always come back another time,” she suggested. “But perhaps he’s right. We wouldn’t want to ruin our vacation by getting soaked and catching a cold or some such.”

As Sabrina settled into the saddle, Jason mounted in front of her, his hands firm as he took a hold of the reins. “Sir Keyes, if you could lead Sabrina’s mare.” He nodded toward the now-riderless horse a few steps away, before adding lightly to his wife, “Don’t get that pond mud on me, eh? I’d sully these fine riding clothes.”

“I’ll do my best,” Sabrina said with a wan smile. “Though if this doesn’t blow over soon you’ll get your nice clothes a lot more sullied riding out to meet the Mzians.”

“We might have to rig up the carriage,” he replied with a sigh, nodding to the knights that he wanted to begin moving again. “A pain, but… it’s all about appearances. And acting graciously. Mustn’t let our Mzians think we want them to ride through terrible raindrops. Then they might start off-loading their spices in…” He gave a gasp of mock horror. “Veresia.”

“We’d never live down the shame of it,” Sabrina said soberly. “Losing business to Veresia because of a little rain. And it’s my first official trip as your consort- I would have to hide my face in public.”

“As I immediately abdicate my title and holdings to my dear sister, Fiona, as I would never recover from such horror,” Jason added. “Fi will be so excited! What’s a better thirteenth birthday gift than your very own province?”

Sabrina’s sober facade cracked and she laughed, though a few minutes later the party of riders was buffeted by a sharp gust of wind, making the teenager wince. “I think the knights were right, this is not going to be pretty.”

“Hopefully it’ll blow through quickly,” Jason said, although he couldn’t fight a cringe of his own as thunder rumbled overhead-- distant, but close enough to be a concern. “With any luck, it’ll be bright and sunny again when we head out for the docks.” He sighed, glancing down at his hands, now mud-flecked as the horses kicked up filth. “Woo, I hope we’ve time to wash up properly. We should have told the servants to have baths drawn for our return.”

“Well we’re headed back sooner than we expected to be, so hopefully we should have some time,” Sabrina soothed. At another gust she flinched, adding, “Assuming we don’t have to fight the wind the whole way back.”

By the time they arrived back at the cottage, the drizzle had intensified into a proper rainfall, though it wasn’t yet what the Corvid-bred Sabrina would’ve truly called a downpour. She shivered as they entered the cottage, water dripping liberally from her hair and dress.

“I hope the Mzians are an understanding bunch,” she said dolefully. “And I hope I can cajole some of the servants here to help me brush through this rat’s nest.”

“Mmph.” Jason scowled as he tugged off his muddy boots. “We smell like a wet stable. And look even worse.” He rubbed at his temple, then glanced behind his shoulder at the sound of someone clearing his throat, finding there one of his knights who hadn’t come along on the hastily aborted ride. The man was hovering in the open doorway as rain sluiced at his back, inclining his head as Jason prompted, “Sir Johnson?”

“My lord,” the knight returned. “While you were out, we received a pigeon from Colubrina.” This was a port city situated about a day’s ride from Grayia, on the polar opposite side of Ophid coastal territory. “Apparently they’ve been suffering from some flooding. And… reports from both their docks and ours say the worst of the storm is still out over the sea.”

Jason’s face went slack. “But… a squall wouldn’t stretch all the way to Colubrina.”

“It would not, my lord, no,” Sir Johnson agreed.

Sabrina tensed. “What… what does that mean? How far away is Colubrina?”

“I… wouldn’t worry about it, Sabrina,” Jason said with a shallow excuse of a smile. “I’m sure it’s fine. Just a bit of rain, and everyone has a tizzy fit.” Strained, he added, “But it won’t be a bother to my Corvid wife, right? You’re braver than that.”

Sabrina looked unconvinced, but with a sigh she turned towards the hallway. “I’m going to see if I can find a maid to help me with my hair. So I’m presentable for the Mzians.”

As though to punctuate her remark, a loud clap of thunder boomed outside, nearly shaking the cottage with its might. Jason gulped, shooting one last look at Sir Johnson behind him before he started after Sabrina, his pulse racing as he caught up to her. “You… you don’t have to come if you don’t want,” he said. “If it’s getting bad out there, I’d rather have you where it’s safe. Not hurtling through the slick city streets.”

She looked startled. “But I… I’m your wife, this sort of thing is my duty. I want to be able to support you like a Lady of House Ophid should.”

“Right. Of course. I just…” Hesitantly, Jason reached for her hand, clasping Sabrina’s palm against his. Woo, why could he do nothing right? “It’s your duty to support me, but it’s my duty to protect you. And I… don’t want to put you in a dangerous situation over some puffed up Mzian spice traders. They’re not worth your safety.”

Her hand was trembling in his, and she looked away. “I… Woo, I’m being ridiculous, it’s just rain, I used to see it every day back in Corvus, b-but…”

“But it’s different now?” Jason said softly. He bit down on his lip, hard. “I… I know, Sabrina. I know. And I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Jason,” she said hurriedly, turning to him again with a strained smile. “I was hoping I could make a good first impression as Lady Ophid, but… there will be other times, right? With fewer giant storms.”

“Right,” Jason agreed. “Of course there will be.”

Unfortunately, by the time Jason had washed up and changed clothes, it seemed that perhaps Sabrina wouldn’t be the only one failing to make any sort of impression on the Mzian: the rain had turned into an out and out deluge, the air crackling with lightning and a howling wind making the cottage’s windows all judder. Waves frothed violently against the shore, the sea churning like an agitated hornet’s nest. The sky had gone not just silver but black, like ruin and ash.

“To be honest, my lord?” Sir Johnson said, as Jason stood in the foyer buttoning up his cloak. “In this weather, I highly doubt the ship’s managed to drop anchor. If it’s not delayed, I’d be shocked.”

Jason sighed, then clenched his jaw as another boom of thunder shook the air. “And if it’s not delayed, and I don’t show up…”

“It’s not safe, my lord,” Sir Keyes put in. “The winds, the lightning…”

“It could still blow over,” the young lord suggested.

Sir Johnson chuckled grimly. “I mean not to contradict you, Lord Jason, but…” He shook his head. “This isn’t going to just blow over. And as someone sworn to keep you safe, I would highly recommend against going out right now.”

Sabrina, who had just walked out of the bedroom and was coming towards them down the hall, warbled, “I th-think he’s right, Jason. You know that I saw storms all the time growing up in Corvus. This… this is not normal.”

Jason let out a gusty sigh, turning to face his wife. “Would this be a bad storm even in Corvus?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” she said fervently. “The rain isn’t even the biggest issue, it’s the wind. Wind like this? It’ll blow branches right out of trees. Not little ones either, whole big limbs. People have gotten concussed and even died that way.”

Her husband said nothing for a moment, only gnawing on his lip. Then, his shoulder slumping, he nodded and began to unbutton his cloak. “Alright. I won’t go.”

“I can ride to the docks just in case, my lord,” Sir Keyes said. “If they’re there by some faint chance, I’ll let them know why you were not there to receive them. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“Right.” Jason swallowed hard, glancing at the knight for only a moment before his eyes turned back to Sabrina. “So. We’ve the whole afternoon ahead of us now, huh? Stuck inside.” He spared a thin smile. “How does some wine sound?”

She gave a weak laugh. “It sounds lovely. Just so long as we seat ourselves away from any of the windows, hm?”

Port in the Storm: Part Two

SPOILER: Click to show

It was probably a good thing Jason didn’t head out: when Sir Keyes returned from the docks a few hours later, soaked to the bone, he informed the Ophid lord that indeed the Mzians had not heaved to, and from the state of the churning seas, it was impossible to determine when they would finally limp into port. Worse than that, the storm had only increased in intensity, a persistent, screaming wind shaking the air like an earthquake as rain slashed from the sky in horizontal sheets. Hailstones occasionally joined in the fray, pinging off the thatched roof like tiny stones. The previous night, moon- and starlight had shone through the cottage’s large windows, illuminating the space, but all natural light was now hidden behind ominous black clouds, the night sky dark as a void.

“Woo, this is insane,” Jason murmured shortly before midnight, as he tossed and turned in the massive canopy bed. He and Sabrina had been trying to sleep for hours now, with absolutely zero success. “I can hear it even if I bury my head under two pillows.”

“Wh-what even is this?” Sabrina whimpered. “It’s been going since just before noon and it hasn’t slackened at all- if anything it’s gotten worse!” A loud noise made her squeak in surprise, flinching towards Jason, as for the briefest of seconds the silhouette of something she couldn’t identify smacked against one of the windows before being ripped away by the wind again.

“Shh, it’s alright.” Groping through the dark, Jason wrapped a gentle arm around his wife’s lightly shaking form and drew her close, hoping she would find the move comforting instead of it upsetting her further. He added, “I… don’t know what it is, but we’re okay. Hopefully it’ll stop by morning.”

The teenager burrowed her face into his shirt. “Y-yeah. It… it’ll stop by morning, it has to, it-”

“Lord Ophid!”

Jason sat bolt upright as somebody nearly body-slammed open the chamber door. His grip over Sabrina turning from soothing to rigid and protective, he squared his jaw. “Sir Johnson? What’s-- what’s happening?”

The knight shook his head rapidly, the fear in his dark eyes visible even through the shadowy dark. “We need to get out of the cottage. Now.”

“Out?” Sabrina bleated. “Into the storm?”

Sir Johnson’s hand clenched over the doorknob. “My lady, the tide is coming in and… the storm winds are giving the ocean far more strength than usual. The water outside the cottage is already at least six inches deep. It’s seeping in under the door.”

“What?” Jason was on his feet in an instant. “Oh Woo.” He turned toward his wife, panic spreading through him like a wildfire tearing through dry brush. “Up,” he demanded of Sabrina, more curtly than he’d meant to. “Get your shoes. And-- a cloak. We shouldn’t waste time dressing properly.”

Sabrina, however, had frozen in terror, gawping at the knight. A whimper emerged from her throat, and she was shaking, her eyes wide with absolute panic. Jason heaved a sigh, his grasp firm but gentle as he reached out toward her and hooked his fingers over her arm.

“Come on,” he said. “Up. It’s going to be alright, but we need to get moving, okay?” He forced a thin smile. “Why don’t you wear your riding boots? They’ll be better out in the mud than anything else.”

Sabrina clenched her eyes shut, but gave a sharp nod. She rose from the bed, her silken nightgown feeling wholly inadequate to protect her against the maelstrom outside. Soon enough both lord and lady were sparsely dressed in boots and cloak- and there was water an inch deep on the floor of their bedroom. Jason held tight to his wife’s hand as they started outside, accompanied by everybody else in residence, servants included, as the Ophid lord gave the order to evacuate.

“You’re riding with me,” Jason shouted at Sabrina over the deafening howl of wind as they started toward the horses, which the knights were hurrying to tack up. “In front of me. Keep your head down, alright?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, trying her best not to give in to the tears of animal terror that were threatening in her eyes. Her boots kept her feet out of the floodwaters outside- mostly- but the current was strong and she was hard pressed to keep her balance. Sabrina found herself gripped with the delirious, childish wish that her father was with them in that moment. She’d always felt the most secure with Linden Escalus, no matter the situation.

But Linden wasn’t here. Clenching her eyes hard as she reached up to the saddle to climb up, she dared whisper, “I-I’m scared.”

His motions borderline frantic before, Jason let himself pause as he watched his wife’s lips move, her words lost in the wind but her terror nevertheless apparent in spades. Swallowing back the knot of fear in his own throat, he forced a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her, tightly, in the same way he might have hugged one of his sisters after they’d suffered a particularly brutal nightmare.

“We’re going to be okay,” he murmured into her ear, stroking a hand through her tangled blond hair. “I’ve got you, alright? And I’ll keep you safe, Sabrina. I promise.”

Sabrina was startled, but for just a moment let herself relax into Jason’s arms, clenching her smarting eyes and taking comfort from his strength. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… I need to keep it together.” She swallowed hard. “Th-thank you. Let’s get moving.”

“Don’t apologise,” he said firmly, drawing away so that he could help her up into the saddle. “You’ve done nothing wrong.” Jason sighed. “Now come. Let’s get out of these waters, okay?”

The ride from the cottage into the town proper, which was situated upon slightly higher ground and was at points further from the shore and thus the rising surge waters, was nail-biting verging on terrifying, debris swirling about in the wind and lightning sizzling frequently in the sky. Hailstones pinged against the flooded streets below, and Jason shielded Sabrina from them as best as he could, the lord hunched over his wife like a human shield as he steered his horse nearly blindly through the chaos. His eyes stung from the wind, and he was soon soaked so thoroughly to the bone that his teeth chattered involuntarily.

“Where are we stopping?” he shouted out to his knights as they thundered through Grayia proper. “What’s the highest point in the city, you think?”

“It’ll be the district where the reeve keeps his manor!” the knight shouted back. “We could ask him for shelter? Or I believe there’s an inn nearby as well!”

“The reeve had better bloody well give us shelter!” Jason replied. “We’ll go there. Should be less crowded than an inn.” He spurred his horse faster. “You doing okay, Sabrina? Just hang on-- we’re almost there!”

Sabrina, hunched over in the saddle, gave a nod. “I’ll be fine. B-but Jason, look. Everywhere, th-the merchant stalls. They’re flipped over or smashed.”

“No one out on the streets, though,” Jason assured her. “Stalls can be repaired-- as long as everyone got inside safe, that’s what matters, right?”

“Y-yes. Of course, you’re right.” She swallowed hard, then glanced around to offer him a weak grin. “Some vacation, huh?”

“It’ll be a story for the kids one day,” he replied with a thin smile of his own. “And maybe we can even embellish and add in rogue pirates and dragons-- make ourselves seem really brave.”

The contingent of knights and nobles arrived to the reeve’s manor about ten minutes later, one of the knights dismounting to pound on the front gates and demand they be let inside. The floodwaters were lower here, but still lapped at the horses’ ankles as the group waited to be bade entry, Jason’s heart fluttering in his throat as the wind continued to howl and rain mixed with hail slashed against him. He could have cried from relief when, after several minutes of waiting, a cloaked servant finally hurried out from the house and stumbled up to the gate, blinking wild-eyed against the deluge.

“Woo-- I thought I heard voices,” the man stammered, using a hand to shield against the rain as he assessed the party on the other side of the gates. “What are you lot doing out in this madness? If you’re traders, I’d suggest you head back to your inn--”

“You address Lord Jason Ophid and Lady Sabrina Ophid,” one of the knights interrupted curtly, gesturing impatiently at his soaked and bedraggled gold and black livery. “They were staying at the Ophid cottage by the shore but were flooded out- we rather hoped Master Merritt might bid us shelter.”

The servant’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Of… of course,” he squawked, fumbling to unlock the gate. “M-my apologies, my lord. My lady.” He bowed his head. “Master Merritt would be delighted to provide you sanctuary.”

Delighted was perhaps too strong a word, but the reeve at least seemed in no hurry to turn out his liege when the soaked and bedraggled Ophid party ducked into his manor shortly thereafter, their horses safely stabled out of the storm. Water dripping from every part of him, Jason bowed shallowly at the reeve, wearing a tired smile as he undid his sodden cloak in the estate’s well-appointed if modest foyer. The floors, previously a gleaming wood, quickly turned into a slippery, muddy mess as the Ophid party shook off their outergarments. Jason would have felt bad had he not been so jittery-- and freezing.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Master Merritt,” the Ophid intoned. “We are grateful for your kindness in our time of need.”

“But of course, my lord,” the man replied, absently running a hand through his silvering pale brown hair before bowing low in return. The reeve was, like the Ophid party, dressed for sleep, though from the dark bags underscoring his eyes it was likely he’d been kept up by the storm just as they had. “Had I realized the afternoon’s squall would turn into a ship-killer storm I would have sent a runner to ask you away from the danger zone hours ago. Sailors talk about storms such as this often, but we’ve not had one make landfall in Elacs in living memory.”

“Ship-killer storm?” Sabrina repeated, her eyes bulging. “Is that what this is called?”

“It’s the best name that Kythians have for it,” he replied tiredly. “Though I’ve been informed that on the Dormorian Isles it’s referred to as ‘huracan.’”

“But we’re safe here,” Jason said quickly, a pointed stare fixed on the reeve. “You don’t need to be afraid, Sabrina-- it might not be much fun, but we’ll get through it just fine.” He clenched his jaw, a hand set on Sabrina’s shoulder. “Right, Master Merritt?”

“But of course, Lord Ophid,” Merritt said hurriedly, seeming to cotton on to his mistake. “You have no reason to fear, m’lady, our manor is well above sea level and stoutly built.” He swallowed hard, adding, “I… I would offer to have baths drawn for you both, b-but the well is out in the courtyard…”

“That’s quite alright then,” Jason replied. “If we could merely be shown to a bedsuite? And my knights to any suitable chamber. We evacuated our servants as well, though we hadn’t enough horses for them all, so they may or may not come this far to seek shelter. If they do show up, however, I expect they be let in and given refuge in your servants’ quarters at once.”

Merritt bowed so low that his body was almost at a ninety degree angle. “Absolutely, my lord. Our guest rooms are this way-”

They were led to a modest but well furnished bedroom, decked in fall colors of maroon, orange, and gold, with paintings and tapestries hanging from the walls that depicted scenes of autumn forests. Merritt also brought them some dry clothing, and although the nightdress that he said was his daughter’s was rather too big for Sabrina, she didn’t in the least mind rolling up the sleeves.

“And at least you’re the only one here to see me in it,” she noted to Jason in a feeble attempt at humor, gesturing with a hand at the too-broad collar that slipped down over one of her shoulders.

“I shall piously avert my eyes,” Jason joked, fidgeting with the oversized nightshirt he’d been provided; it rather looked like a potato sack on his slim frame. “Woo, I never thought I was small before. Then again, I think Merritt probably has a hundred pounds on me, huh?” Sighing, he sat down at the edge of the bed and patted beside him. “Come here. Get off those soggy and tired feet.”

Sabrina obeyed, sitting down on the bed with a relieved groan. The wind still howled like a demon outside, but it was slightly more muffled by the sturdy building. “A storm this big, they’ll probably get hit by remnants of it as far as Copperhead. I… is it stopping?”

She looked towards the window as, almost supernaturally abruptly, the sky overhead cleared and the courtyard was bathed in moonlight. Standing again, she walked towards the window to look out, and her jaw fell open. “Jason, you have to come see this.”

“See what?” He paced up behind her, brow furrowed for a moment in skepticism before he glimpsed what she was looking at outside. “Oh, Woo.” The dark clouds almost looked as though they were swirling, foamy black as they stood out against a swath of suddenly clear sky. “That’s-- wow. What is that?”

“I don’t know,” Sabrina breathed, awed. “It’s… it reminds me of a donut, almost. Like someone just poked a perfectly circular hole right in the middle of the storm. How is that even possible?”

“Maybe it’s a sign from the Woo,” Jason suggested. “That things are okay to be okay.” He bit his lip. “We should probably step away from the window, though. In case it picks up again.” He took his wife’s hand. “Maybe we can even try to get some sleep? While things are calm.”

She nodded. “Good idea. I’m exhausted.” She shivered, scooting closer to Jason as they walked towards the bed. “And freezing.”

Hesitantly, he kissed her cheek. “We can cuddle up close. If… if you want. I’ll do my very best to be your heater.”

She smiled. “And I’ll do my best not to be an ice block against your chest. Thank you Jason. I know I… haven’t been the most mature or rational tonight.”

“You’re scared,” he said. “It's perfectly okay to be scared, Sabrina. Honestly? I'm a little scared, too.”

“But you kept your head,” she pointed out softly as the two of them sat down on the bed again. “I just… panicked and froze up. Like a rabbit or something. I… I’m worried, s-so much of the time that I just won’t measure up. As a wife. As high nobility. I try to be dignified and controlled and I do fine with dignitaries in controlled settings but,” she closed her eyes miserably, “the first time things go wrong I just lose it.”

“Sabrina.” His voice cracked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close, and gently eased her head against his chest. “I know this has all been a huge adjustment for you. And you’re so young, and I…” He sighed. “You don’t need to worry about disappointing me, okay? You’re doing fine. I promise. And it’s alright to be scared, or unsure, or imperfect. No one is perfect. All that matters is that you’re trying.” Jason swallowed hard. “I don’t want you to be-- afraid of me, not in any way. And that includes a fear of disappointing me.”

She sniffed, and after a moment’s hesitation she hugged him back. “Th-thank you. For everything. I was always a kind of… skittish kid. My siblings were really boisterous and outgoing and always dragged me into trouble. Between them, and Mother, and all the other strong personalities I was always kind of overshadowed. Like a mirror, I guess. People would reflect themselves on me, but I never got much input or anything. I’ve never really… gotten the chance to figure out who I am, I guess.” The teenager tightened her grip, trembling a little. “B-but you… you’re nice, and accommodating, a-and you care about what my hobbies are or if I’m h-happy, so th-thank you, Jason.”

“Of course, Sabrina.” He kissed the crown of her head, his wife’s hair still damp from the storm. “You’re my wife. My partner. And I know you didn’t have much of a… choice in this. Marrying me. That if you’d had it your way, it… it probably wouldn’t have happened. But--” Gingerly he turned her chin up, so that their eyes met. “From now, I don’t want you to be a mirror, okay? Your input does matter. What you like, what you don’t like, all of that… well, I wouldn’t be a very good husband if I didn’t want to know all those things, right? And make sure you’re as happy as possible?”

She gave a weak smile. “R-right. I’ll try my best, I promise. It’s been… hard. Trying to settle into my own skin for once. But it hasn’t all been bad. Getting to do things together that both of us want to do, instead of following along with whatever out of boredom, and… the growing pains will pass, I think. I just apologize in advance if I’m a bit rabbit-ish still in the meantime.”

“No apologies needed,” Jason assured her. Adjusting himself on the bed, he leaned back, and drew his wife along with him as he nested beneath the blankets. “We have our whole lives to get used to each other, right? So being a little hesitant at the very, very start of things is perfectly alright, Sabrina.”

She sighed, letting herself relax perhaps for the first time since the storm had started. “After tonight, I don’t think I’ll be able to wake up before noon. Ten in the morning at minimum.”

“Hmm, we could stay in bed all day, if we wanted,” Jason mused. “I doubt we’ll be able to head back to the cottage anytime soon, and Woo only knows what’s happening with the Mzians. And since I think Master Merritt is far too terrified of me to throw us out on our bums if we overstay our welcome…” He gave his wife a crooked smile. “Breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, Sabrina?”

She laughed, nestling her head against his chest and closing her eyes. “Sounds lovely. High nobility definitely has its perks.”

***

The worst of the storm had passed by morning, but a steady rain and lashing wind continued for several days more, the duration of which Sabrina, Jason, and their retinue spent imposing on Master Merritt’s hospitality. Though in many ways it was stressful and exhausting-- and the damage reports that were beginning to trickle in from across Grayia and its outlying villages spoke of a wide path of destruction-- in other ways, Jason find himself enjoying the time spent largely secluded with his wife. So busy in his day-to-day activities as lord of the province, he seldom found himself with more than a few hours here and there to simply relax with her… and he realised now that perhaps this had been part of the problem with her self-professed slow adjustment to life in Copperhead. It was hard to adapt to life as someone’s wife, after all, if that someone was scarcely around, and you barely had a chance to get to know them.

Sabrina, for her part, certainly didn’t mind overmuch spending time with Jason that wasn’t in danger of being interrupted by some urgent business or other. It was nice, in a way, spending time with him just… talking. Not going anywhere or occupied by anything in particular. House Escalus was a huge family, and this sort of one-on-one time was rare if not impossible to get there- not necessarily a bad thing, since a big family meant a big support system, but Sabrina had spent most of her life feeling inadequate compared to her magical siblings. Having lots of time with someone paying attention almost exclusively to her, making her feel wanted and important, was something that the teenager had needed for a long time. She gradually opened up over those rainy days, relaxing in her husband’s company so that she didn’t come across like she was trying to impress an important dignitary constantly.

Eventually the fourth day after the storm dawned bright and cloudless, the golden sunlight filtering through the blinds of Jason and Sabrina’s borrowed bedroom in a cheerful way that belied the destruction they knew was waiting in town. And, along with their breakfast tray, one of the Merritt servants brought along with him some news:

“Your Mzian traders, m’lord,” the man said with a bowed head. “Master Merritt received word about an hour ago that their ship was towed into the harbour shortly before dawn. Mast snapped. Some of the sailors were lost to the sea, but most of them survived with only various minor injuries, including the captain and the primary trader.”

Accepting the proffered tray, Jason raised a brow. “Did the message say where they’ve gone to in town?”

“The Portside Inn, m’lord,” the servant replied. “Off Beach Street, near the town square.”

“Right. Thank you. You’re dismissed.” Jason gave the man a short nod, at which the servant hastily departed from the room; once he was gone, the Ophid lord turned to Sabrina beside him. “I suppose we probably ought to drag ourselves out of bed to greet our half-drowned guests, hm? And survey the damage through the town while we’re at it.” He smiled grimly. “Not to mention, what is the likely the soggy wreckage of our cottage.”

Sabrina nodded grimly. “It’s going to be a mess. Lots of people with homes and businesses close to the water will have lost them in the flooding, not even getting into potential wind damage. Hopefully any local boats and ships that were out at sea came to port when they saw the storm brewing, but…” she shook her head, then gave a wan smile. “You do realize all our good clothes are back at the cottage? And quite possibly ruined. Though given the circumstances I doubt our Mzian guests will be presenting at their best either.”

“We’ll all be haggard,” Jason agreed, picking up a slice of toast from the tray. “They’re probably just grateful to see dry land, really. I doubt they’ll be picky.” He smirked. “I suppose I’ll have to get you some new nice, pretty clothes, hm? Such a shame, having to take a shopping trip.”

Sabrina giggled. “That is a pity. But you can’t have the Lady Ophid going about in a dress two sizes too big. Think of what people would say!”

“Such horrendous things, I’m sure,” Jason said solemnly. He glanced toward the food. “Let’s eat quickly, then. So we can get all dressed and then our business underway.” The lord smiled at his wife. “See-- you’re getting to act as an official Lady Ophid, after all. Exciting, right?”

Sabrina smiled, her expression one mixed between anticipation and a little nervousness- but nowhere near the flatly neutral expression of repressed anxiety she’d worn before. “It’s still strange to think sometimes that I’m co-consort to a highlord over an entire region. That I’m Lady Ophid. But I’m going to do my best, Jason. Even if right now we’re just checking up on some half-drowned Mzian merchants.”

“I know you will,” Jason replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “You’re anything a highlord could want in his wife and consort. Don’t ever let yourself feel any differently, okay?”

She smiled, putting a hand over his and squeezing it. “I won’t. And you’re a kinder and more understanding husband than I ever dared to dream I’d marry. Thank you.”

The Ophid squeezed back. “Of course. No thanks needed, Sabrina. And… I’m sorry our nice trip turned into this. Remind me that I owe you a vacation, alright? The next time I have to travel somewhere interesting. … Though hopefully it’ll turn out far less interesting than this trip did.”

She laughed, gently bumping his shoulder with hers. “I’ll definitely hold you to that.”

[Celestial]

Collab with Avery. A small, one-shot fic taking place in early 1380 featuring the sickeningly cute Bradley and Alina as well as their daughter, Jane.

Like Father, Like Daughter

SPOILER: Click to show

“Are you sure?” Alina asked, raising an eyebrow as she looked up into the terrified eyes of the vivarium keeper whom she had stopped.

“Yes, Lady Alina, it cannot be anything else. We’ve checked,” the man nodded frantically, his voice quivering with fear. “Do you know where Lord Bradley is? He needs to know right away!”

She immediately stifled a giggle. Even after living with House Ophid for so long, she could never get used to this particular obsession of theirs, no matter how much she tried. Nevertheless, Alina immediately forced herself to clear her throat and assume a serious front for the sake of the servant in front of her if nothing else. No matter how silly she thought it was, Bradley was unlikely to share her viewpoint.

“Perhaps it is best if I go tell him?” the Ophid lady asked the poor, flustered vivarium keeper. “He might take the news better if it’s delivered by his dear wife.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” the man replied far too quickly and eagerly before bowing to her. “Thank you, your Ladyship.”

She smiled at him in acknowledgement before turning around and heading through Copperhead Castle. First place to check was the courtyard; he had told her earlier he would be training and that was one of the few places where there was room to practice both the sword and the wand.

Alina’s guess proved right. The courtyard was illuminated by a warm sun, thawing it from the chill of winter that had only ended barely a month ago. Soon, there would be snakes sunning themselves on its rocks but for now, there was only Bradley. He was sitting on one of the benches, his sword lying gleaming by his side. No doubt his wand was also nearby. Most importantly, he had his back to her.

She smiled and lifted up her skirt, walking on tip-toe across the cobbles. Biting her lip in order to stifle her laughter, Alina snuck up behind her husband, taking a moment to check he really had not noticed her before putting a hand over his eyes.

“Slacking off, Lord Bradley?” she asked in a sly tone. “And what if I had been an enemy, what then?”

Bradley, his dark blond hair rumpled and sweaty, cracked a smile. “Oh, I let you win,” he said dryly, reaching up to place his hands over Alina’s and gently pull hers away from his eyes. “Got to keep my lovely wife feeling stealthy, don’t I?” He turned toward her, smiling. “And to what do I owe the pleasure, my love? You don’t normally come visiting me in the training yards.”

“Maybe I was just lonely and wanted some company?” His wife draped her arms around his shoulders, bringing her face closer to his so that their noses almost touched. “But in this case I do have a reason. I ran into a very flustered vivarium keeper and thought I should give you his message.”

Alina looked him squarely in the eye, suddenly assuming an exaggerated look of seriousness. “Before I tell you, promise me you won’t worry or do anything, rash, alright?”

Bradley stiffened immediately. “Why?” he asked. “What’s happened?” He bit down on his lip. “Please don’t tell me we’ve had an escape from the venomous wing, Alina?”

“No, nothing as radical as that,” his wife murmured comfortingly, stroking his cheek. “But your favourite snake...whose name I can never remember,” she shook her head. “Apparently the vivarium keepers came in and found her dyed bright purple.”

“... Thunder?” Bradley asked, his eyes going wide as dinner plates. “My chain kingsnake?” He shook his head rapidly, as if in complete and utter denial. “Dyed? But-- how, that doesn’t make sense, who would do that-- is she okay-- I should check on her, I should--” He began to take a step forward to shoulder around Alina.

She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back slightly. “You said you wouldn’t worry, sweetheart,” Alina said, her voice and smile both gently chiding for a moment before becoming stony again. “The vivarium keeper said she was perfectly fine, except, well...purple. If you’re going to check on her…”

Her hand slipped into his, gripping it. “I best come with you then, Bradley, to make sure you don’t panic,” his wife smiled slyly. “Or faint at the sight of your beloved Thunder dyed in such garish colours. What would people think if you did that?”

“It’s not funny, Alina,” Bradley insisted, his voice nearly as a whine as the two began toward the vivarium wing (Thunder, at over two feet in length, was housed there rather than in the family’s personal quarters). “Someone mad enough to dye her purple-- they could have hurt her, and she’s defenseless! Who would do such a thing?” He swallowed hard. “We’ll need a list. Of everyone who was in the vivarium wing this morning. This will not go uninvestigated.”

Despite her husband’s worry and panic, Alina could not help but give out a single laugh. Immediately she bit the corners of her mouth to stop herself grinning more but her amusement was nevertheless still clear as day. “Bradley, it’s fine, don’t panic,” she squeezed his hand. “It might not even be anything personal against you. Maybe somebody did that by accident,” a pause. “I mean, I’m not sure how but…it’s possible, right?”

“I doubt it,” Bradley said grimly.

At the vivarium wing, they were met by a very jumpy-looking Warden of Serpents, the man dipping into a deep bow before he escorted the lord and his wife toward Thunder’s habitat. The Warden held his breath as he watched Bradley take in the scene before him: the snake, usually a striking, ink black with creamy, off-white bands, had been transformed, her scales now glistening a shade of deep purple that was reminiscent of ripe grapes. All of her patterning was gone, the shading solid from head to tail, and had Bradley not known any better, he’d have thought it a different snake entirely. But no-- this was definitely Thunder. Bradley had raised the serpent since she was a hatchling and knew her nearly as well as he did his own daughter; a shift of hue hardly changed that.

“I… don’t understand,” the lord said softly, as he watched Thunder slither up to the edge of the vivarium, the snake’s tongue flicking against the glass. “It’s… it’s not even dye, is it? It’s too-- natural looking. Uniform.”

The Warden of Serpents shook his head, warily. “I don’t believe it’s dye, no, my lord,” he confirmed. “Nor is it paint or-- anything of that nature.” The man hesitated. “In my opinion? It’s… it’s magic. But,” he added hurriedly, “I can attest with utmost conviction, Lord Ophid, that none of my staff would have done such a thing. We are professionals, and would never lower ourselves to such petty, childish pranks.”

“But who else, then?” Bradley insisted, in his head frantically sifting through the list of mages at Copperhead Castle. There was himself, of course, but he hadn’t done it-- and he doubted that say, the House healer would have done such a thing either. … Which, then, left only the Warden’s staff.

But the Warden was insistent. “I’m not sure, my lordship,” he said. “And there weren’t many people in the vivarium this morning, either, not that I saw. Just… just myself, of course, and my staff. And… his lordship your father visited briefly, with Lady Josephine and… and Lady Jane. But that’s all, my lord. That’s all.”

Alina had stood off to the side as the two men talked, not having much to contribute to the conversation; being from Bern, she knew even less about magic than she did about snakes. At the mention of Jane, however, her eyes narrowed and she stepped up behind her husband, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Bradley...neither your father nor Josie are mages. Meanwhile, Janie...it’s possible for her, isn’t it?” she glanced back at the snake, her jaw grinding together. “And her favourite colour is purple.”

Bradley, however, only laughed. “Janie’s not a mage,” he said. Quickly, he added, “I… I would know if she were a mage.”

The Warden of Serpents reluctantly cleared his throat. “P-permission to speak freely, my lord?”

His brow furrowed, Bradley nodded. “You may.”

“Thank you.” The man smiled very, very nervously, not daring to meet Bradley’s expectant gaze. “I… of course do not mean to conjecture, but-- when, ah, Lord Jason was in here earlier with his granddaughters… I was making myself scarce at the time, so that they could enjoy the vivariums without disruption. But…” He gulped. “I did overhear his lordship chastising Lady Jane. For drifting away out of his sight whilst he was monitoring Lady Josephine as she held one of the ball pythons. His lordship was rather displeased.”

There was a deep sigh from Alina. “Woo, Jane…” she murmured, putting a hand over her forehead. After a few moments, however, she lowered it and turned to her husband. “So she’s the only one who could have done this. You still think your daughter isn’t a mage, Bradley?”

“I… I…” Bradley shook his head, looking several shades beyond flummoxed. “But-- she knows she’s not allowed to open the vivariums without permission, why would she even…” The man pressed a hand to his forehead. “We-- should go find her, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes we should, and when we do, I’m going to make sure she gets a good cuff around the ear for sure,” his wife growled, already turning around and heading for the exit. “And then, darling, since you’re a mage and her father, you need to educate Janie on how to use her power responsibly.”

They found Jane in the castle solar, her baby cousin, Keilah, cuddled in her lap. She smiled broadly up at her approaching parents before seeming to read the expression of utmost irritation on their faces, whereupon she snapped her gaze toward her lap and tightened her grip on the infant, as if the five-year-old somehow planned on using her as a human shield. Had Bradley not been so rightly aggravated, he might have laughed.

Instead, he snapped, “Janie. Give me or Mama the baby.”

“Why?” Jane whispered, gnawing on her lip, her slate-gray eyes flickering with something between confusion and terror. She looked toward her nurse, who monitored from nearby, as if the woman might help her, but at the lord and lady’s presence the servant had only ducked her head into a tight bow, clearly unwilling to interfere. “I like the baby,” Jane added after a moment, kissing the top of the infant’s dark hair, so different from Jane’s own white-blond locks (Keilah’s tan complexion and hair were courtesy not of her father, Bradley’s elder brother Ben, but her mother Marisa, who was originally from Courdon). “Kei-Kei’s sweet.”

“Give her to me because I said so,” Bradley replied. “Now. Or Mama will take her from you.” He glanced toward Alina, praying that she would back up his threat.

His wife was all too happy to oblige him, walking up to her daughter and kneeling down until she was at eye level with her. “I know she’s sweet, Janie, honey, but you need to give her to me,” Alina stretched out her arms, dipping her hands under Keilah and wriggling her to loosen Jane’s grip. “Before you dye her purple just like you did daddy’s favourite snake.”

Jane’s eyes flew open in shock-- and in her surprise her grip on Keilah went slack, allowing Alina to finish prying the infant away from her. “I… I din’ dye nothing!” the little girl insisted. “I wouldn’t dye nothing!”

“Jane Marie Ophid,” Bradley returned flatly. “If you want to make this as pain-free as possible for yourself, then I’d suggest you stop with the lies right now. We know you were in the vivarium wing with Grandpa earlier. We know you wandered away. And now Thunder is purple. Mama and I aren’t fools, honey, are we, Alina?”

“No, we’re not,” his wife replied, gently rocking Keilah now that the baby was fully in her grasp. “So you best come clean, Janie, because it will save you a sore bottom; did you touch Thunder and did you know you were using magic on him?”

“Thunder’s a girl,” Jane informed her mother eagerly. “She’s--”

“Irrelevant to what we’re talking about,” Bradley cut in. “And don’t you dare have a smart tongue right now, Janie, because we are not in the mood for it.” He squared his shoulders. “Did you touch Thunder?” the lord repeated. “And did you know you were using magic on her?”

“I haven’t got magic,” his daughter replied, puffing out her cheeks. “I don’ got a wand or nothing! Not like Papa does.”

“First part of the question,” Bradley said flatly. “Answer it. Did you touch Thunder, Jane Marie?”

“Um…” Jane averted her gaze. “I’unno.”

“Either you did or you didn’t, Janie,” Alina narrowed her eyes. “If you didn’t touch Thunder, who did? Your grandpa? Josie? Neither of them are mages so they could not have been responsible, whilst you, young lady, might just have been; your daddy is a mage after all,” she sighed. “And don’t try to say she was not dyed by magic either. The vivarium keepers say it was the only way.”

“Am… am I gonna be in trouble?” Jane asked, as if this weren’t an admission all its own.

Bradley raised a brow, incredulous. “Let’s see,” he replied. “Are you ever allowed to touch snakes without permission and supervision?”

“Umm…”

“Because the answer there,” the lord continued, “is absolutely not. So yes, Jane, you’re in trouble. But if you’re honest with Mama and Papa now, then I guarantee you that things are going to go a lot less unpleasantly for you than if you keep up with the lies.” He sighed. “Now-- one last time: did you touch Thunder, Jane?”


“J-just a little,” Jane whispered. “I din’ take her out. I just… petted her a little. So-- so, it’s okay. ‘Cos I din’ hold her.”

“No, because if you did, we’d be tanning your hide right now. As such, if you’re lucky, you might just get away with a few smacks. You still touched Thunder, even though you knew you were not allowed,” Alina’s tone was furious and she had a stare to match. “And did you see what happened to him- sorry, her- when you touched her?”

“I’unno,” Jane said vaguely. “It’s dark in the viv’rium, Mama. And… and… black an’ purple are almost the same, y’know. As each other.”

Alina gave off a long, deep-suffering sigh. “I could tell them apart just fine, Janie. So tell me again, and looking me in the eye this time; did you use magic on Thunder on purpose or was it an accident?”

“I d-din’ know it would actually work,” Jane whimpered. “And… and then I din’ know how to change her back. So I closed the viv’rium and went back to Grandpa. He was m-mad at me for wanderin’. He pulled my ear.”

“Rightfully so, given the trouble you got into. I’m sure if Lord Jason knew what you had done, he’d have done a lot worse,” Alina shifted the baby in her arms, resting her in the crook of her left elbow, before turning to Bradley. “So what shall we do with our rogue mage? I think a confining her to her room for a few days should do the trick, so that she learns her lesson.”

“It’ll give her time to think,” Bradley agreed after a moment’s consideration. “And do you understand, Jane Marie, that what you did was dangerous? There’s a reason we don’t want you touching the snakes without supervision. You could have gotten hurt-- or Thunder could have gotten hurt, or escaped, or…” He forced a deep breath, glancing back to Alina. “A spanking now, and she can stew in her room thinking about what’s she done wrong for the next two days? And no visits back to the vivarium for the next month. Period.”

“Sounds like a fair punishment. Do you wish to do the honours or shall I, Bradley? I don’t mind, but if you want me to do it…” she glanced between Jane and the baby resting in her arm. “Somebody is going to have to hold Keilah.”

A smile crossed her face. “Though, when all that is done and Janie’s two days are up, perhaps you could do something to teach her how to use her magic properly, Bradley, so this sort of thing does not happen again.”

“Once we get her one, she’s not allowed to have her wand on her unless she’s being directly supervised until she’s, oh-- fifteen,” Bradley said dryly.

“A wand?” Jane dared brighten. “I’m gonna get a wand?”

“Yes,” Bradley replied. “But first…” With a grim smile, he reached out for Keilah. “I wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation as the cuddly parent,” he teased his wife.

“No, of course not, hence why you leave me to do all the dirty work,” Alina said with an exaggerated sigh as she placed the baby in Bradley’s arms. Once she was sure the girl was secured in her husband’s grip, she put her hands on her hips and turned to Jane. “Come on now, the sooner we get this over with, the better it will be for both of us.”

***

“So,” Bradley said to his wife that night, as they settled in for bed, “I’m still not entirely convinced this isn’t all just an absurd dream, Alina.” He sighed, massaging his temple with one hand as he fluffed his pillow with his other. “Of all the kids in this castle… of course our little monster has to be the mage.” He laughed darkly. “Now I know how my parents felt with me.”

“It just proves the Woo has a sense of humour,” Alina said with a smile, undoing the ribbon tied around the end of her braid and slowly working it out of her auburn hair. “It’s a surprise to me too, Bradley. I didn’t think somebody of Stallion blood could ever have a mage child.”

She laughed suddenly as she remembered something. “Then again, there’s aunt Roslyn and cousin Zach, who is the first Jade lord in generations with magic,” Alina turned to her husband with a smirk. “So perhaps you shouldn’t have married somebody with such strong magic in her blood, Bradley.”

He rolled his eyes, giving her arm a light, playful punch. “Oh yes, how silly of me, to marry a person from the mage House! That’s where it must have come from, certainly.” Bradley leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You should have warned me, sweetheart. So I would have gone in prepared!”

“How was I supposed to know? Even if by some miracle we were both mages, we weren’t guaranteed a mage child. It’s just our luck it happened to be Janie,” Alina rested her hands on her abdomen, gazing down at the slight bump protruding out from under her nightdress. “This one could also be a mage...though I hope not. It’s already bad enough with just Jane.”

Bradley cracked a grin. “I’m just hoping for a healthy baby. Mage, not mage-- that’s just… a trifle.” He placed his hand over hers on the very slight swell of her stomach. “I can’t wait to meet the little thing.”

His wife leaned back against him, closing her eyes in a brief moment of relaxation. “You still have about six months of waiting, Bradley, so be patient,” she murmured before her eyelids snapped open again. “And we still have to sort out what we’re going to do with Janie. Getting a wand isn’t suddenly going to turn her into a paragon of responsibility.”

“I mean what I said earlier-- no unsupervised access to her wand,” Bradley replied. “And… we’ll get her into lessons, of course. Drill into her what it is to be a responsible magician.”

“If it worked for you, hopefully it will work for her,” Alina grinned up at him. “Tell me the truth; how much of a menace were you when you discovered your magic?”

Bradley smiled balefully. “Well, the good news is, I… matured eventually. And I’m sure Jane will, too.”

“Let us hope it won’t take a warmage academy to teach her that. Her no-nonsense, strict father might just be enough,” she giggled and reached up to stroke his cheek. “No going easy on her, alright? I can be the strict parent as long as you need me but when it comes to magic, you’re the expert.”

“I’ll be very serious,” Bradley promised. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We still need to figure out how to tell my parents, don’t we?”

“Oh Woo, so we do,” his wife smiled up at him and gave him a tap on the nose. “You do it. You need to reassure them that Janie won’t be running around causing trouble like you once were. Your mother has told me all sorts of stories…”

“Nope.” Bradley smirked. “We made Janie together, we can tell Mum and Dad together.” The lord reached for his wife’s hand, tenderly threading his fingers through hers. “Come on, what’s the worst that can happen, Lina?”

She laughed. “Your parents will curse us to the Woo for making them deal with another mischievous mage child,” Alina remarked, shaking her head before smiling widely. “But I suppose I have to be a loyal wife and not let you endure their curses alone,” she squeezed his hand. “Together then.”

Bradley squeezed back. “Right. I love you, Alina.”

She closed her eyes, leaning against his shoulder. “I love you too, my snake charmer.”

***

Four days later, with the rest of the Ophids informed and Jane’s stint as a prisoner in her bedchamber served, Bradley and Alina departed with the girl one brisk morning so that she could pick out her wand. An unseasonably cool wind was rippling the air, the sun hidden behind a thick veil of clouds, but Jane begged to walk to the market rather than take a carriage, and with a sigh her parents obliged her (though only after bundling her up in a cloak and mittens, and informing her curtly that she was not to tug them off).

“I wanna get a pointy wand!” the girl trilled as the group twisted down Copperhead’s meandering, cobblestone streets, the nobles trailed by a small contingent of knights in full livery. “With… with sparklies!”

Her mother shook her head, sighing. “Janie, don’t you remember what we said? You’re getting a plain wand for now, with only one crystal at the most.”

She smiled, clutching the girl’s hand tighter so that she would not run off. “I’m sure you’ll get a nice wand no matter what. What kind depends on what the wandmaker recommends.”

Jane scowled, tugging against Alina’s hand insistently. “Can’t I just get a few sparklies?” she needled-- before a look of delight flashed across her face as they neared a cart hawking fresh, aromatic sweet bread. “Mama! Can I get some?”

Her mother nodded, secretly glad for a change of topic. “Just one, sweetheart,” she walked over with Janie towards the cart and took out her purse from a hidden pocket in her dress, handing over a few small coins in exchange for one of the rolls. It shone bronze from the glazing of egg that had been spread upon it and a dark patch on its side hinted at the jam filling inside.

“Now, you got to promise to be good for me, daddy and the wandmaker in exchange for this treat,” Alina said, holding the sweet bread just out of Jane’s reach. “Are you going to be a good girl, Janie?”

“Uh-huh.” Jane nodded earnestly. “Real good, Mama!”

“And you’ll be polite and well-behaved at the wandmaker’s?” Bradley asked.

“I will.” The girl stared greedily at the roll.

“I’ll hold you to that,” her mother smiled and placed the roll in the girl’s hands. “Now let’s go, we don’t want to be late. The wandmaker is expecting us.”

Eventually, the Ophid party made it to the central marketplace and turned down a small side road, coming to a stop before a small but well-kept shop. A bell rang as they entered inside and within a few short moments, a rosy-cheeked, middle-aged woman stepped out from the back, wiping her hands on her skirt. Her brown eyes widened as she saw the group of nobles before a huge smile spread across her face.

“Welcome, welcome, my lord, my ladies, sir knights, to Donne’s Wands and Wandgoods! I’m the master wandmaker here, Maggie Donne, and let me assure you, you won’t find better craftsmanship than mine unless you go all the way to Solis, and even that’s not guaranteed,” she exclaimed, bowing deeply before looking back up at Bradley and Alina. “Now, what can I do for you today? Perhaps you would like a wand, or a wand holster? Or you are looking for something for your little one?” here, the woman turned a twinkling eye on to Janie.

“For the little one, indeed,” Bradley agreed. He smiled warmly at Jane. “We’d like something simple for her, but price isn’t a factor. So something sturdy. Well-made.”

“And with a crystal on top,” Alina grinned at her daughter. “She is insisting on sparklies.”

Maggie laughed, clapping her hands together. “Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place. We offer a variety of wands, made out of any materials you want, with plenty of ‘sparklies’ as you call them,” she winked at Jane. “But of course, a mage first and foremost must be matched to their wand, otherwise it won’t work. So...”

She leaned down in front of Janie, resting her hands on her knees. “Do you want to tell me a little bit about yourself first, your ladyship?”

“I like snakes!” Jane announced cheerfully. “And all animals, really, but snakes most.” She wilted a little. “But I’m not ‘lowed to have any. ‘Cos Papa says I’m not old enough.”

Alina laughed loudly. “And because you would get into mischief, Janie, if we let you have a snake before you’re old enough. Woo knows, you get into enough already,” she put her arm around the girl’s shoulder and grinned up at the wandmaker. “I’m afraid she’s very excitable, and she loves her snakes. I don’t know how useful it is to you.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised, Lady Ophid,” Maggie said, straightening out her back. “Sadly, snakes make for poor wand core material, otherwise I’d know what to give you for sure,” she smiled down at Jane, lowering her hands on to her hips. “So, your mummy says you like getting in trouble, do you, your ladyship?”

“Nuh-uh,” Jane objected. “I don’ try to get in trouble. But it’s hard bein’ good.”

Bradley smirked. “That’s such a diplomatic way of putting it, Jane.” He playfully jabbed the girl’s arm. “She’s got a lot of energy,” he clarified for Maggie. “And a lot of… ideas, I suppose you might say. Not necessarily ones that Mummy and Daddy approve of.”

The woman laughed loudly, her belly shaking as she did. “I see. Well, I might have just the thing for a child who is always getting into...stories, shall we say? Now all that is left is to find a wood and a crystal for you,” she grinned. “I only hope that your parents know what they’re doing; it would be a shame for you to misuse your magic on having...more ideas. Are you going to do that, your ladyship?”

“Nuh-uh,” Jane said. “‘Cos then I’ll get in so much trouble.” The little girl’s gray eyes flickered mournfully. “So I’m gonna be a good mage. With a pretty wand! Promise.”

“Good girl, Janie,” Alina said with a smirk, squeezing her daughter’s shoulder and leaning down to her ear. “Because if not, there will be the ‘Pit to pay.”

Maggie suppressed a wide smile, clearly amused by the girl and her mother. “As long as I’m not the one blamed for it. I’m just a mere wand maker,” she bustled behind the counter, beginning to pull some things off the shelves. “But I think I have a fairly good idea of what your wand and crystal should be.”

The woman continued to dig through her wares, throwing things around willy-nilly and muttering to herself all the way through. Eventually, there came a cry of triumph from Maggie as she seemed to find what she was looking for. Satisfied, she put something in her pocket and strutted back to where her customers were waiting. Once she had stopped, Maggie held up the object she was carrying for the Ophids to inspect: a long wand, carved out of an attractive pale wood, almost resembling ivory, with a slot cut out of it, ready to deposit the core inside.

“Sycamore: a good wood for somebody who is adventurous and full of energy,” the wand maker commented. She then pulled a leather pouch out of the folds of her skirt and from it took a few tufts of grey fur. “Coupled with fur from an animal which is intelligent and mischievous, just like her ladyship here: a raccoon. And finally, to balance that,” she withdrew another object from her pocket: a red, opaque stone that she placed into a holder on top of the wand. “Jasper, to provide grounding and serenity.”

With the wand completed, Maggie held it out to Jane. “See if it works for you. Try to cast a spell with it.”

“A spell?” the girl chirped, taking a ginger hold of the wand as though it was a precious and fragile piece of china. “What kinda spell? I haven’t learned none yet. ‘Cept to change colours. But I don’ need a wand for that!” Jane grinned.

The wandmaker covered her mouth with herpalm, muffling a laugh. “It will be much easier to do with a wand than with your hand, your ladyship. Here,” she took a white handkerchief out of her voluminous dress, holding it out to Janie. “Touch that with your wand and see if you can change its colour.”

“Okay!” Face screwed in concentration, Jane gingerly touched the tip of her wand to the handkerchief. For several moments, nothing happened, the rumpled fabric remaining stark white; but then, after a few seconds more, it had begun to morph to a pale, rosy pink. “There,” the child announced, pleased with herself. “It’s pretty!” She glanced up toward Alina. “Do you like it, Mama? That’s one of your favourite colours, right?”

“Yes, it is. Well done, Janie!” Alina beamed with pride as she leaned down and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Just don’t be turning Gale pale pink, alright? I don’t want a repeat of Thunder.”

“Thunder?” Maggie asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My husband’s pet snake,” the Ophid lady remarked, glancing at Bradley. “Jane here changed her colour to bright purple, even though she wasn’t supposed to be touching the snakes,” she squeezed her daughter’s shoulder.

“I see,” the wandmaker laughed heartily and leaned down to the girl. “Does it feel easier to change colour with the wand then, your ladyship? And how does casting feel with it overall? Do you like it?”

“I like it lots,” Jane said. She looked at her father. “I getta have a wand just like you!”

“Exciting, I know.” Bradley smiled warmly. “But that means you’ve got to be real responsible just like me, too, right? Magic isn’t anything to fool around with, Janie. Papa had to learn that the hard way as a little boy.”

“I won’t fool, not never,” Jane promised.

Alina covered her mouth to stifle her giggle. “You said ‘not never’, Janie, so you will do it at some point,” she shook her head and folded her arms. “But you better be careful, because I will tan your hide if you misuse that wand. Remember, mummy’s from Bern,” the Ophid Lady grinned. “That means she has zero tolerance for magic and especially magic-related shenanigans.”

“I’ll be good,” Jane repeated. The child beamed at the wandmaker. “I can get this one?”

“Of course, once your parents pay for it and I seal it up,” Maggie chirped and smiled up sweetly at Alina and Bradley. “The core is five minors, the wood is twenty but the gem will be twenty majors,” she bowed her head. “Jasper is most fitting for her but it is hard to get in Elacs. I hope you understand.”

“You drive a hard bargain, madam.” Bradley smiled thinly. “I would hope you’re not ratcheting prices up merely because you know us to have a larger pocketbook?”

The wandmaker gasped, bringing a hand to her chest. “My lord, you insult me. I am an honest businesswoman, I would not charge you more than I had to to make a living, and my prices are the fairest you can find in this city. Besides, you said money is no object.”

“Hardly means I want to be fleeced-- how about we call it twenty and twenty?” Bradley replied. “A nice, even number, don’t you think? And perfectly fair.” His eyes glimmering, he added, “And we’ll make sure to come back to your shop the next time we need anything wand-related.”

“Well, I would be an idiot to refuse a deal like that. I shall hold you to your word, your lordship,” with that, Maggie reached into the folds of her skirt, withdrawing a slender wand. She reached out and tapped Jane’s own wand, mumbling an incantation under her breath. Immediately, the seams in the wood and around the crystal sealed up, rendering the wand complete.

“There,” the woman hid her wand in her skirts again. “Congratulations, your ladyship, on your beautiful new wand.”

“Thank you!” Jane chirped. Glancing toward her parents, the child added, “An’ thank you! I love it, Papa. Mama. I’ll treat it real careful, promise.”

Alina smiled widely, wrapping one arm around her daughter’s shoulders and kissing the top of her head. “I just hope you’ll be as careful with your magic, Janie. Remember, you promised to be good. So you better be...or else.”