･ﾟ* ESME

“— it is a cruel and random world, but the chaos is all so beautiful; i’ve always been more comfortable this way.” 

If Esmeray wasn’t taken and Josefina wasn’t in love with Clementine, she would be perusing this woman in a heart beat. Though the taken thing wasn’t really that big of a deal breaker when the husband in question was Connor. The way the Fae guided her around the dance floor was enough to sweep anyone metaphorically and physically off their feet.

“A rant wouldn’t bother me. But we can table it until you need it,” Jo promises. “Away from prying ears and eyes I mean. Maybe next time I stop in and bother Lilith about something.”

Sometimes, in the quiet of her own mind, she wonders why people bother to fall in love. Rather quickly she remember her dhampir friend and the questions are answered. But Esme has always been curious to her. The Fae has always been good, no questions or curiosities or ulterior motives, though she may pretend she has them. At her core, Josefina has always seen someone good. It would be easy to be jealous of it, but instead she’s simply always admired.

“And you couldn’t hurt him like that, right?” she questions with a smile.

The next topic makes her grimace. Of course Hollis was evil, that wasn’t so much up for debate. The Heir chose greed, the kind Josefina knew, and perhaps that’s where her father had spotted the similarities. But after Liza leaving, after Marcia’s death, she had wanted nothing to do with the thralling business at all - even if it killed her. And it nearly had dealing with the fae food addiction on top of the crash from having no thrall. Maybe that’s why she’d sought Esme out at first. She seemed the perfect alternative to Hollis. The antithesis. 

Their rebel souls sung in unison.

Josefina shakes her head. “Honestly I’d rather die than thrall them, especially now, but it hadn’t been good. It still isn’t. I don’t even know what the fuck to do about my dad and I. It’s all fake smiles at parties like this, but we don’t ever approach each other. Maybe that’s for the best.”

* ✶

This moment felt like an outlier, as if the Mother had chosen Josefina as her champion even though Esmeray deserved less than. Now here, among all of the magic surrounding her tonight, all of those things that had been soured, this pretty girl with the semblance of a fox spirit had gifted her a moment of reprieve, a moment of freedom as she’d been given all of those years before when a trespassing Un made her smile despite the horrid state of her dress.

She’d heard her mother in the distance and panicked, Maikel Ludovicus, had taken her hand and pulled through rips in the veil cut into overlapping fabric. From Seelie territory to Un. Away from Corliss and the rest of his ilk, her mother and everything else. Esmeray had felt weightless after the fact, as she did now— if they’re floating above the marble of the dance floor then, she can’t be blamed for it. It was this or the leaden feeling of hyper-fixation, eyes unable to look away from Connor and Hollis. A perfect wolf and a perfect Fae.

“When we’re away from curious ears. You wouldn’t believe how quickly word spreads around here and I’d rather shield you from any stupidities of the night. Besides that, you can come any time whether it’s for Lilith or otherwise. If you wish to, of course.”

As the tides changed, so could a Faerie’s heart it seemed; to consider it her home again, even after she’d just about forfeited it the night prior was an odd oscillation. But it was home, and so was he, “no, with or without the bindings, his pain is mine. I see him hurting and it feels like I’m wilting. Does that make sense? Like the sunflowers of your realm, turning to the sun or rather, the flowers that bloom in the night opening their petals under the light of the moon.” Esmeray could go on like this, trying to find a way to describe the love she held for her husband but it felt nearly impossible. Such things weren’t so easily encapsulated.

“I don’t blame you for thinking so. For one, it’s Hollis and secondly, as you’ve mentioned this should be your choice, not his, not anyone else’s. Past that, I just— this is quite hypocritical of me considering I’m not there yet myself, but it seems to be, or so it’s evident when I think of the future and the children I may have that, a parent should do anything for their own, not the other way around. If he loved you, he should approach you. Or perhaps that’s naïveté, but it is something to think about all the same.” 

Most of Connor’s gift to his wife for Winter Solstice had been the house and all the furniture she’d eagerly put inside of it. It seemed weird to not hand her a pretty thing wrapped in a box, but he hoped in many ways this meant something more: the promise of their future. A house was a commitment. Marriage was too, not matter how coerced, but this had been a decision he had made. This was an invitation to follow him along whatever path he dared to talk, one they could travel together, side by side, if she so wanted.

And she had, if the last month was any indication. They’d filled spaced, danced with no eyes on them, and spent many sweet nights in this same spot. He wanted to prove to her how adored she was. Hopefully it came across in everything he did for her, in the house he had silently written forever across.

Forever would not be long enough. But it was a good start.

“It’s really good,” Connor assures her. The very idea that he gets more time with his best friend has made him floating the entire night. That and the shots. The shots were really helping. “You’re really good.”

When he opens the present he stares down at the pendant necklace, watching the way it shimmers curiously. He’s always liked jewelry. His wrist has enough bracelets on it as proof of that and he still wears the best friend necklace, especially now that Lili has hers back. And then his wedding ring. Connor would rather eat silver than leave the house without it on. “Holy shit, it’s pretty. Did you enchant it to make it glow like that? I love it. Another thing I’m never going to take off that reminds me of my wife.”

* ✶

Connor Talbot made flowers bloom in her chest, literally and figuratively; one other consequence of their bindings. Perhaps not a consequence though, nothing about this marriage felt like suffering. When they were good, they were marvelous— so enamored with one another, that nothing else mattered. And when they were anything less, well, Esmeray didn’t want to think of those moments; as much as their arguments were born from the way they loved, none of the words said were conducive to their journey threw the fields of dahlias and honeysuckles. Still, it was each of these moments that carved them into who they were.

Esmeray had been blind to it for some time, purposefully so. Avoiding all of those signs littered around her because it didn’t make sense. She was a Faerie and he a wolf; there had been no precedent for their compatibility, no exemplar to follow and yet, so soon as she’d met him she was smitten, and thereafter? All she could do was fall deeper in love with him without so much as realizing it. 

Nesim had seen it, had teased her for it as all brothers do, but even he must not have understood the depth of these feelings. 

They had to be the Mother Below’s most beautiful outlier. “Yours are, so and all,” her words punctuated with a kiss to her husband’s chin. She would have to thank Maivan herself for such a beautiful creation, for her most wonderful blessing; Connor was stardust, moonlight and every other magnificent thing in all of the free realms. 

She can’t help but laugh, a sweet sound like wind chimes as he regards the gift she had given him. Esmeray had taken the very constellation from the skies; if he was a wolf, then it belonged to him, did it not? All she had done was return the stars to their rightful owner. “In the honesties, my selves did not have to do the enchantings for the shimmerings of these. Theirs are the orbs that do the sittings in the heavens of the realmings of yours...” she says, voice softening to a whisper, “my selves did the retrievings for yours.”

One of the things Connor loves about Esmeray is how they feel. Not them together, though that is a bonus, but separately. Her emotions, as all fae emotions, were intense and overwhelming and complex. Wolves were similar like that. Most of the time it was anger that got the best of him. It was an easier emotion than all the other and he had honed it to be a cutting blade of sarcasm and hits. Hers were always so much more beautiful than his, like a splattering of ink across a canvas that made art. He only ever knew how to burn the entire thing to the ground.

“I just want to be able to feel like myself again. It was fun, for awhile, not being so angry. Not being so hurt. But now I feel like I’m not even myself anymore. And maybe that says something about me, the fact I don’t know who I am without my anger, but I also wish I had it back. What is a wolf without his strength and where am I supposed to draw it from if not my rage?”

Having Lilith gone makes him think of those frantic moments, the ones where she was gone, the ones where she was trapped. And maybe it’s the quick succession that he’s been losing people in that’s cause the most pain. He loves them. He loves them and they keep getting hurt and taken and abused and he feels completely powerless to do anything to stop it.

Connor sighs. “I know you’re right. I know. But it hurts all the same. That I can’t do more. That I can’t just…maybe it all go away.” Dwelling on it won’t help, not for him, so instead of crying like he wants to, he turns back to the task at hand. There’s lunch to be made and a chess game to be beaten. He’s not sure who’s playing who or who’s winning, but it’s seemed to change attitudes for the better at least a little bit.

“Want to help me? Come on, I’ll show you.” He hopes it’ll end the conversation. It weighs to heavily on him.

* ✶  

Sometimes they felt impossible, sometimes living in this small pocket of the world felt the same. Unfair as it was, so many things were stacked against them and she just wanted to hold him and keep him safe from all of those things. 

“Your selves could not be doing the drawings of these from the angerings so and all, Connor...your selves can do the drawings from the elses. When I do the lookings upon yours, I do the seeings of the havings of the phasings of the multitudes...in the likings of the glowing orbs. The moon as yours do the namings of. I am in the knowings that these may not do the helpings of yours in the feelings of the selves, ever and how mine will be alongsidings yours in the interims and thereafter.”

There’s no easy fix for this, no bandaid that could effectively distract him from all the pain he was feeling. Even if Esmeray wanted to siphon all of those negative emotions from him, she was scared of leaving him with nothing— petrified of taking the small bits of feeling that were about to shine through the fog of his aura. If she wanted to superimpose some happiness on him it was near impossible because her own emotions were so precariously on-edge that she’d do more harm than good. Besides that, she didn’t think that would fix anything.

He must’ve felt the same; powerless, wanting to enact some change and being entirely unable to. Esme wishes then that she could articulate better, string some words along to ease the burden. Or maybe it’d be easier to enchant his ears them, to try and see if he’d understand her, but such a charm was a dangerous thing if concentrated on one person; how star-crossed they were, from the broad strokes of their story to those minuscule things. Those differences between them.

Connor can’t help but smile again, pressing a kiss to her nose as sweetly as he can. Sometimes he wonders if Esme has even been cherished the way he cherishes her. From what he’s heard about her family, she’s always been used as a pawn, shepherded around from place to place as suited the fancy of the people who thought they could best use her. The thought makes him sick and he hopes that though all he gives she never thinks he sees her as anything less than an equal.

The Talbots were not half as bad as her parents when it came to that sort of thing, but it didn’t mean he didn’t feel used sometimes. There were very few moments he made decisions for himself that he followed through without question. His wife was one of them. No matter how terrible things were, no matter how difficult they got, he would choose her over and over and over again.

“Yeah. She’s important to me. So are you though,” Connor reminds her, threading their fingers together and giving them a little squeeze. “I love you, Dilara.”

He doesn’t use the name often. It’s reserved for moments like this where he can show her the tenderness she deserves with this sort of sweetness. It’s hard not to remember the day she gave it to him and how shocked and honored he had felt. They weren’t anything more than casual fuck buddies - at least not in label. The truth of their hearts were far more complicated than that.

With a grin of a child who knows it’s his birthday, he pulls her closer and kisses her neck. “Come on. Show me what else you got me. Don’t be mean. Or a tease.”

* ✶

When he says her name, Esmeray swears its the sweetest sound she’ll ever hear. The way the syllables fall off of his tongue is entirely too beautiful and she’s tempted to tell him that there’s no gift greater than that. To be known by him was its own blessing, to have these moments stripped of any pretense, even more so. When he used her true name, she’d felt seen, more than she had by many of the Faeries in her court. Perhaps they knew her in a way he didn’t but then Connor knew those parts of Esme that were most true. 

She’d spent so many years playing a part— imperfectly as that may have been, but what’s a duchess if not a haughty, self-centered thing? All that grace and poise was soured by idealism, sass and a propensity to question the queen and her children. You could never deny her ladyship because her edges left no room for argument, but she’d always been storm beneath skin, wanting and wishing to have more freedom than the confines of her name allowed.

“I am in the lovings of yours so and all...and I am in the happinesses of having done these givings. That ours will have the timings in the extensions are in the goodnesses, yes?”

As tangled as the three of them were in their relationships, she cared for Chloe still, and she cherished all that Connor and Chloe shared. An odd continuation to their story, but that was okay.

“My selves had the believings that yours were in the likings of the teasings,” she says, laughing softly, “so and even, my selves will be of the benevolences.” Pulling a small pouch from the pocket of her dress, Esmeray holds it up so that it’s in his line of sight. This is one other gift she’d put together for him, the others scattered around their home for him to find, mischievous as she was. 

Josefina doesn’t know the dance they’re doing so she relies on Esme to guide her as much as she can. Thankfully the other woman doesn’t seem too bothered by the prospect, smiling genuinely for the first time Jo has witnessed in a very long time. She wants to find her own happiness in this moment but from the corner of her eye she can see Jose walking about wearing a mask of his own and that’s enough to make her sick to her stomach.

Focusing back on Esmeray, she listens closely to her story, nodding along. “Men are all trash then? Even Fae men? Insane how that is, honestly. I never got the Unseelie versus Seelie thing but maybe I’m being purposefully ignorant here. If you ever want to give someone a history lesson I’m all ears.”

Something lingers in the back of her mind though, a curiosity she couldn’t quiet itch. It gnawed at her front lobe as she chewed her own lip in time with it and contemplated how best to say the next thing.

“I know he sucks but he could get you home, right? Even with the everything you marry the prince that basically proves loyalties. And I know you’re like bonded to Connor so you couldn’t, but did you ever think about it, before. That maybe it would just be easier to do the thing that everyone wanted you to do and you could go back to your comfortable life?”

She is not, definitely not, talking about her and Jose in this situation. Definitely and absolutely not. It’s not like she’s been properly disowned by him or anything but there’s a pretty solid understand they won’t speak to each other for the rest of possibly forever. He’d asked her to thrall someone she’d never choose in a million years. He’d fed her addictions. He’d made her miserable.

“Can I tell you something? You can’t tell anyone though. Not even Noa and Clem know.” She takes a deep breath. “My dad tried to get me to thrall with Hollis. After my mom and Moira’s death. I was so pissed off I’d thrown a vase at the wall and ran away. Wouldn’t take his calls, wouldn’t do anything. We haven’t spoken since.”

* ✶

A pensive hum fills the air as Esmeray spins Jo out and pulls her back in, “well, no, it wouldn’t be fair to say that. My brother’s recyclable at least,” she teases, “it’s a ridiculous thing, the Seelie and Un thing. Besides the biological dichotomies, there isn’t some difference like good and evil, or light and dark, it’s— it’s the beginning of a rant that won’t end anytime soon, as such I’ll be sparing you from my thoughts on the matter.”

It wasn’t something any Seelie could speak so freely about. Her clan had been labeled apologists for as long as she could remember and it was a wonder the Fialas kept them as close as they did. Even so, it was best to watch your tongue around some of the Faeries in attendance.

“Corliss could bring me home, yes. I could fold, apologize for embarrassing him like I did and promise to bend to his every will, bear his children; I could sever the bindings even,” though that much would cost her a piece of herself, “and perhaps it would be easier. I would be able to see my family without limits, be forgiven for my crimes but...even thinking about it has my chest tightening. That would truly be a prison of my own creation, worse even than the dungeons beneath this very castle.”

Esmeray would be lying if she said that wasn’t a thought that had crossed her mind a few times throughout the years; when she’d first when pushed across the veil, those feelings of homesickness had been too great and an unwed Prince seemed the only remedy on those nights. But then she’d be living in misery, never knowing Connor, never knowing Jo or anyone else. What was longing to invisible chains?

She answes immediately, nodding softly in response, “of course— you can trust me to keep this hidden from wanting or un-wanting ears. I would make you this promise, but you should never seal this kind of covenant with our kind,” she knew of Josefina’s addictions as it was, she need not add fuel to the fire. Though Jo’s words add some to her own, and she’s tightening her grip on her waist, holding her closer, “can I say it’s a relief you held your ground and didn’t thrall them? Besides who they are, this is very much your choice and nothing your father should impose on you.”

Connor watches his wife, the little curve of her lips as she smiles, pressing them together. He traces the few freckles on her skin and wonders if she placed them there just for him. This is just the glamor for her more galactic form and he’s grateful for it so he can love her - so he can hold her. He thinks though that even if she were just a nebula of stardust he would fall for her just the same. Wolves were destined to always be chasing the moon and yet he had chosen a star to cherish.

“Oh yeah? Am I? Does that mean I earned a kiss? Or maybe a hundred of them?” He can’t stop touching her tonight, can’t stop loving her and kissing her. It’s likely a side effect of all the alcohol he’s been shot gunning for Chloe’s amusement, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t truth in his words. “My Diana.”

His moon. His world. The very thing he would revolve around forever more. She was the influence for his very breath. Of course, they had taken it more literally than other wolves had thanks to the binding magic that Fae carried, but he would not regret it for a moment. 

Few moments in his childhood could he remember his parents showing their affections. They had always been more reserved than Cam and Kenneth were. Even so, he remembers one night when he’d pattered downstairs, barely seven at the time, to get something to drink. He’d rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and seen his parents wrapped in each other, bathed by the blue glow of moonlight. He had never seen them look so happy before. He’s not sure he’s ever seen them so happy since.

“The gift of a century and some change with my best friend? Yeah, you could say that was a pretty great gift.” Connor laughs gently. “You didn’t have to get me anything else. I’m going to struggle as is to come up with something good enough for your birthday now. Two hundred and twenty three. See, I remembered.”

* ✶ 

Esmeray had nearly rearranged the stars, wanting to write their story in the skies as Guide and Cicerone had done throughout the years. She knew there would be upset for her tampering, but They loved one another so much as she and Connor— and what was one new discovery for these mortal eyes? Another distraction, another addition to their heavens...but they didn’t deserve to know all of them. So instead she’d plucked the ones in the sky, a constellation fit for a wolf; none other than he. 

“Yours are in the knowings that yours do not have to be doing the earnings of these...my selves will do the giftings of these in the unconditionalities.” Always and forever; even if that had been decided for them by outside parties, she didn’t want anything else. 

She lifts his hand to her lips, pressing soft kisses to his knuckles, thanking the Slumbering One for all she’d been given thus far. The peri she was a century before, couldn’t have imagined this kind of forever. All those years before, she hadn’t allowed herself much love in reciprocity— there were a very many few paramours, one she’d loved so ardently they’d nearly bound themselves to one another, but none like this. None like Connor.

A few years before, he’d told her that he couldn’t love anyone else; that he couldn’t love her, and she’d never felt so broken. Free from the shackles of her station, Esmeray had broken a plethora of rules the Faerie Folk set for themselves. She’d given him her true name, shown him the Faerie that sat behind the glamor and true to form, fell for him without thinking of the consequences. After it all came crashing down around her, Esmeray had resigned herself to another loss. 

Chloe figures, after the fact, she maybe should have described what it was before she opened the gift, seeing as it looked like nothing more than an unassuming tube in the box. But, still, seeing the look of genuine excitement on her friend’s face distracted her from much else. 

“It’s a kaleidoscope,” Chloe explains, “Like we were talking about before.” Taking the brass tube in her own hand, she turns it around so the butt of the object faces Esme. You put your eye against the hole, and just hold it towards the light.” Angling it towards a gathering of candles placed on the counter for her, Chloe continues to explain. 

“Then, all you do is spin it, and the pattern moves.” Chloe’s struck by the fact that her eyes did not melt during the fae ceremony, as the kaleidoscope of those colors warmed the room, but she’ll read Connor for shit later on that point. “I triple checked, and the tube is made of brass so Connor can look at it too if you decide to let him.”

It was a proper one, too, vintage. Created without the sad plastic tubing that the little toy ones were made with these days. Colorful glass pieces and pebbles inside that made the patterns that refracted off angled pieces of mirror and light. 

“Like I said, I know it’s not much, but you were just talking about how pretty you thought the patterns were, and I thought you might like one of your own.”

* ✶  

The magic of the Fae realm wasn’t something so easily replicated— in all truth, any tempts to do so had failed; the first itself was a bastardized version of Neussyriel and all that came after was so far removed from the source, that all Faerie Folk who left their realm felt homesickness throughout. Esmeray herself would never be without that feeling, but she likes to think she’s found magic in these little mundane things.

Sam had called her a magpie before; one of those little creatures that collected baubles and trinkets and the like. It was a habit she’d picked up once she started crossing the veil some time ago. She’d wander around this realm for short moments at a time, collecting stories, first kisses, heirlooms and all other things ( like that Fabergé Egg she kept on the bathroom sink )...but there was wonder in the smaller, inconsequential things. 

A lover’s note left behind in a gazebo, the bottled cries of a man’s catharsis, an old doll gifted to her by a runaway. And now this kaleidoscope. Looking through the viewfinder left her mesmerized. Esmeway was certain the bursts of color could enchant any mortal, but she was lucky to have eyes that saw so much more, “these are of the sensationalities...”

It was one other thing she’d cherish for all the time she had left in her; another piece to tether her as the tides shifted throughout her eternities. A memento once she’d lost someone so important to her— but she didn’t want to dwell on something like that now. Instead she’d focus on the beautiful colors bursting in her line of sight.

Emseray had been what he deserved. She still was what he deserved. The peri was a pretty thing, something to tote around on his arm and, eventually, combine their bloodlines into something other wordly. Her people were descendants of Mother Below and that meant something to both his pride and his mother’s ruminations for the future.

What was a wolf, well and truly, other than a human who thought they had teeth? He would rip them out one by one and make her wear them as a necklace. Sometimes stupid things needed to be defanged. And Dilara needed a reminder of just what The Prince could do.

“Yes. Trouble. That’s all you cause, yes?” Corliss hums and moves his hand to purposefully rest on the exposed scar. “You do not tell me what to do, Dilara. So obstinate though I suppose you have been your entire life. And how does your husband feel about this? Do you let him touch you here? The one you’ve bonded with? I suppose he doesn’t know the truth of how terribly you’ve ruined the gift. Silly things. They all are such silly things knowing so little and accepting the words of Polissena like they are worthy of interpretation.”

The music swells and they begin to dance, a smile on his lips as he ghosts a kiss along her fingers. “I am sure you would have loved to see your brothers tonight. If you finally agreed to marry me, you could cross the veil again, return home. See them. I have heard Nesim misses you most. Come home with me. Hollis will bring your little puppy with you and if you’re kind to them I am sure they will be willing to share from time to time.”

* ✶

The urge to smash the prince’s head into one of the marble pillars scattered around the gala fills her very essence. She knows now is not the time for violence, that she must carry herself with grace, but Corliss Fiala had seldom inspired positive feelings in the peri. Had she accepted his marriage proposal, Esmeray is positive she would have killed the man— the naid was insufferable in the smallest increments and to have to lay with him thereafter would have surely led her to madness.

If ever he’d acted in a way that was palatable, he would quickly show his hand.

“Have some respect, your Highness,” she says through gritted teeth; he may have held no respect for the people of the Un territories, or even those the Mother chose to title, but she did. “You know very well that you are not to use Her name, Nael. These childish behaviors are not becoming of a Prince such as yourself; you cannot be so foolish as to deign yourself worthy of speaking upon one of the sanctified. And further, coveting one who’s bond has been whispered to the Mother? To disrespect the bonds, her blessed ones to a descendant of Her Light?”

Even the keenest eye would miss the tiniest stutter of her steps. Dilara was raised better; she’d never stumble before the likes of the Fiala family. Or anyone else. “I would have loved for you to allow them entrance into the ballroom, yes. If you were so kind, your Highness, if you cared for me truly then would you not allow me this? It was your own Queen Mother who sent me away, I doubt that she wants this union so much as you...moreover, he is my home— and I believe I’m his. If he wishes to leave me for Hollis, then that’s his prerogative, but you know I don’t like to share.” 

Esmeray looks nice tonight. It’s a dress that looks nice on her. But that’s all it is. Nice. It’s not really her, at least not in the way Josefina knows her to be. Her fellow political daughter has moved past all that and into something she might akin to her Red era. Or maybe sometimes it’s Lover, given just obnoxious her and Connor can be around each other.

“The dancing is fun at least,” Jo observes as they take a little spin together. It’s also nice that no one is looking at the two of them for being two women dancing together. At least the Fae have some cool things. Aside from their food.

That whole thing has been a struggle tonight. Lilith gave her instructions to follow and, as her thrall, she can’t ignore them, but that doesn’t meant the temptation is going to go away. It’s hard to not remember the way they tasted on her tongue, the sweetness, that rush and that high. She swallows and shakes her head so she can refocus back on Esme.

“Oh my God so a rejected engagement then? Do tell,” she teases. “For the record he seems a pompous ass and that’s coming from me. And an idiot if he’s asking questions he doesn’t want answer to. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Sounds like he deserved it. Especially since he didn’t know you well enough to know you don’t have a problem making people look like fools when it’s deserved. Very sexy of you, by the way.”

* ✶

The night was an odd one, as she knew it’d be. Esmeray was glad to be across the veil one more; she had hopes that she would see her brothers, perhaps her parents even, and maybe some old friends. The air felt fresher, the magik more concentrated and it felt healing. As if every breath eased some of the pain in her side and muffled the irritation sitting atop the scars. It was another reminder, that she’d been pushed from her place of belonging.

“My mother was furious, honestly. She sent me to the family’s estate as punishment; the one located in the mountainside, by...” Esme leans in conspiratorially, “by Un territory. A vacation, if you ask me.” During that time, a very many things happened for Esmeray; she’d spent time with her less Seelie ‘cousins’, was able to see Dovi more freely and even strengthen her connection to Her Light. 

A blessing in disguise if you asked the Faerie. “You know, they expected me to rescind my rejection once I returned. That I did not do. As you’ve succinctly pointed, he’s quite pompous, treats his subjects like disposable toys and— myself? A birthright. As if I was promised to him just as a prince is promised their coronet.”

“If he knows anything of value, it’s all to do with my lineage and past that, the man couldn’t even hold a conversation with me about my attunements. My desires, my values...the decision made itself. You should have seen his face after. I think the poor thing is still licking his wounds.”

Corliss could tell when he was being snuffed at. Esmeray had wounded him many times before and perhaps it was those wounds, festering and unable to close, that led him to where he was tonight. She was dressed in the gown of his choose, something to show off that exquisite figure of hers. The glamor she wore was nothing but magnificent, truly. If only he could see more of her without all these silly little creatures around make it impossible. Would it really be so terrible as to burn out their eyes? Then, at least, he wouldn’t have to fight a wolf of all things for her attention.

But Hollis was taking good care of that. If they wanted to play with a little puppy for all their days than so be it. He could be a distraction while they ruled on top of their mother’s throne. Many had asked why he didn’t fight more for that title but in truth it did not interest him. The only thing that did was right here dressed in blue.

His colors. Naturally.

When he reaches out, that’s when Corliss sees it, the marred flesh on her body. For a moment, he grins, before tutting under his breath. “I see you’ve gone and done what you do best, Dilara, messed with things and caused trouble. I presume this was no doubt from you rushing in to save your pet’s skin. You would not have to ruin Mother Below’s gifts to keep me happy. I could protect you from these troubles. And yet…”

That night still haunts him, when she had all but spit in his face. His grip on her tights, hand purposefully on her scar. “What a silly girl you’ve been Dilara. Dance with me now and tell me why you keep that mongrel around you when you could be dining on fineries more befitting your station.”

* ✶

While her mother had raised her a pawn, Evren’s lessons had been of the most peculiar sort. To see Esmeray waltz through the corridors of the castle was to see the heavenly bodies personified; she carried herself like a queen, even though she’d never have a throne. A wisteria come to life though people like Hollis wished to cut her at the root. Even Corliss, with whatever love he thought he’d had for her would suffocate all the life within her. 

Connor had allowed her to blossom; he’d allowed her to be every facet of herself, even when it was at his detriment. With every moment she’d spent with him, Esmeray felt like more than one cog in a leviathan machine, and even when she’d mourned the loss of her home, his love was a salve to all that homesickness. Corliss was an idiot to think she would leave her husband at all.

For all his lack of thought though, the venom on his tongue was no less potent, “I don’t want you to touch me there...please.” Esme didn’t want anyone touching her there— her own husband didn’t even see her fully nude anymore, she’d cry whenever she saw her own physique in the mirror and she’d spent the latter part of an hour working through a panic attack after she’d seen the dress he wanted her to wear. She loathed him; even as she’d teased the thought of crossing the veil to see him, she thought him a terrible man and a terrible Faerie. “Besides this, you could not protect me from myself Corliss. I would not ask you to waste your time on someone so unworthy. You know better than I that I’ll only ever cause trouble.”

She could hope and pray that he’d leave her to her own devices, but he’d never been so easily swayed. One of a million other reasons she’d never thought of him as more than a nuisance; a brattish thing that didn’t take rejection well. 

He squeezes the scarred flesh then and Esmeray can’t help but vocalize her discomfort, a sound she’d hope to muzzle in hopes that it doesn’t reach her husbands ears. She hates this and everything about this moment; hates that Corliss is successfully tainting another day of her life. And Esme wishes she could lash out, bare her teeth and chase him away— but she must bite her tongue; always, she must bite her tongue. 

And at the use of her true name, she must bow her head. “You know how I am, your Highness...do not continue to waste your time with me then. I wish you would find one less silly than I, more grateful, less troublesome.” If he’d thought her such a stain, then there were several others that would bend to his will. She held no desire for him, and his sibling thought she held no value, so why? 

Who: @esmerays​

Where: December 26th, Poelnaran

Josefina had been switching her gaze to three heads the entire night. The first one was Clementine, who was the most radiant being she had ever seen, then to the corner where Nora and Chloe looked like they might start something she hoped they could finish. Then to the dance floor, where the discount wonder twins were making their way around with their respective captives. Connor was charming enough in a social situation, she supposed, and so was Esme. Still, if she could throw them a bone at any point, she would.

Pun completely intended.

When the music started to shift, she quickly shuffled her way through the crowd, sliding up to Esmeray and Prince Corliss. “I think we’re supposed to switch partners for this dance, aren’t we? I’d be so honored to have a fae teach me just how to dance. Are you willing to honor me with it?”

Part of her was banking on the fact that he didn’t pay enough attention to anything to know who she was in relation to Esme as anything more than a curious Aware hoping to learn something more. For a moment, he looked like he may argue, but with a few blinks up with her most charming smile, the man turned to find himself a new partner, telling Esme he would see her rather soon.

The music started again and Jo raised her hands to let her friend guide her. “Okay so he’s a total tool bag. What’s the deal there? Am I smelling an engagement gone sour?”

* ✶

It felt as if Corliss were trying to replicate that dance all those years before; she was wearing the same colors he’d gifted her then ( the very same dress, if not a little updated ), the same jewelry and he, as predictable as ever, was regarding her as if she were his own, While she hoped he wouldn’t, there was the possibility that he would try to propose tonight as he had all those years before...did the poor thing think this night any different? Mother Below, he’d been just as territorial whenever Esmeray mentioned Ludovicus, even when all she’d ever done was tolerate the Seelie prince. Perhaps that had been too much kindness.

With Josefina’s much welcome interruption, Esmeray tries to contain her joy, schooling her features into something neutral, solemn even. “We could be so kind, yes Your Highness?” The sound of her own voice was so saccharine it turned her stomach, but she’d been raised for this.

Who: @esmerays​

When: December 21st, Winter Solstice House Warming

Winter Solstice was an important holiday for the wolves. The story of Heinrakles had been the origin of his middle name, a long set of rumors said to be history claiming that perhaps their lineage descended from the wolf who had warmed Artemis’ soul himself. There was no proof of it. Just as there was no proof with many of the things the people of the Underground claimed to exist. Then again, when you walked amongst immortals, why not believe in the strangest stories you could hear?

The Talbot home - his Talbot home, not his parents - was filled with little oddities he had collected throughout his Solstices. Esmeray was being unbelievably kind about the entire experience. She listened to him intently as he described the way the candles should be scattered about the house and just how the yule log should be placed. When he’d told the story for the fifteenth time she had almost looked just as interested as the first. That man would move mountains for her.

Thankfully, everything was put together in time for the party. People were enjoying themselves and Connor, well, he had never enjoyed himself more. Esmeray had given him the only gift that could ever have mattered. More time. More time with Chloe. Maybe not forever like he had with his wife, but more of it. He wanted to sit on the floor and cry and scream and celebrate. Every moment was a dream come true.

And maybe, just maybe, he was a little drunk on fae wine and a little high on life right now. He tilted his wife’s head, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. They were sitting on one of the lawn chairs, looking up at the moon. It bathed their pool in the most dazzling blue glow and yet it was Esme that was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. “You are the best wife in the entire world, you know that right? Have I told you that enough today?”

* ✶

The celebrations on this side of the veil were always a fun thing, if not a little peculiar for the peri. When the Faerie Folk celebrated Her light, there were degrees of separation, well, less of them for Esmeray herself, but they were there. With this solstice, the people of Enphelieon celebrated an entity that had cared for her in her youth, and that itself was comical. She hadn’t spoken of these adventures with the wolves, and Esme would remember to ask the next time they crossed paths.

All the same, the solstice may have been about the Guide, but the moment shared between them was a sacrament of two. Esmeray laid there in his arms and she’d felt for once, as if there was a home for her in Enphelieon. She knew she didn’t belong here, that this would never be her home ( not truly ), but what was shelter if not the man she loved?

“So and all, yours are in the holdings of the titlings of the bettered aşkım...I am in the knowings that your selves are the of the sole lovings of mine in these kindings.” Esmeray knew that there wasn’t a single other person out there in this world she could love, not in the way she loved Connor. The Mother Below knew all, so perhaps she’d divined this— weaving their story amongst the stars of another realm. Perhaps she’d walk through the Middle one day and be given a retelling. 

Nesim had ventured past the gates once, entering the Middle with slow, careful steps, or so the story goes. He’d always mentioned that nothing would prepare you for what you may experience through the passageway and so one shouldn’t prepare to do anything but feel— from his own experience, each step felt heavier and lighter all the same and Nesim pondered if this was the essence of balance. He hadn’t divulged much else, but it always left Esmeray wondering. She’d always looked upon Connor with that same sense of wonder; she would know him for an eternity but he’d never be any less fantastical.

“Did yours have the enjoyings of the giftings? I am in the knowings that these were for Chloe...so and all, I am in the havings of the elses so and all...”

what: solstice party, december 21st who: @esmerays​

“Hey, there you are,” Chloe chirps, cheeks a little bit more flushed from alcohol than the last time Chloe saw Esme. The last time being when she had gone as far as to extend Chloe’s life for her. Giving her a gift so much better than anything else she could have gotten. No gift, for as long as she lived, would ever compare to something like this. Something Chloe was sure Esme was sticking her neck out for in a lot of ways. 

The least that Chloe could do was attempt to return the favor, even in the most miniscule way in comparison to what Esme had done. 

“In all the excitement, I didn’t get a chance to give you my gift before.” Chloe places a small, impressively well wrapped box on the counter between the two of them, tapping it gently. 

“It… kind of sucks in comparison to your gift, but, Esme, nothing’s ever going to match that, so you’re going to have to be okay with lackluster gifts for the rest of my life.” Which was so much longer now. 

“Happy Solstice, though. I hope you like it.”

* ✶  

After their small makeshift ceremony, Esmeray had slipped away, hoping to give Chloe and Connor some time to process everything that had occurred. All of those things that felt mundane to her were wildly fantastical to those of this realm. It was probably best that they knew nothing of the celestial blessings— and even better then that the Faerie Folk were so tight-lipped about their nature.

So the Faerie flitted off to the kitchen where she’d found a roll of twine and started looping it through her fingers, forming a wolf and then a star and a bunch of other little things to pass the time. A flower came after and Esmeray was nearly done with it by the time Chloe entered the space.

Pulling her fingers free and setting the string down, she focuses the entirety of her attention on the oracle and her gift. These mundane festivities were an exciting thing.

“Do not do the sayings of these, I am in the certainties that my selves will be doing the enjoyments, thus,” she says, pulling the box closer to her person. The peri herself had been so focused on preparing her own gift, that she hadn’t given much thought to reciprocation. Connor had mentioned the house was a gift for this holiday, and she hadn't considered much else after the fact.

But this was exciting! Small as the box may be, there was value to be found in objects of a smaller stature. Esmeray herself was bijou; Chloe though taller was another magnificent force of nature in a small package. The flowers of her realm, were the same, so her excitement was genuine, evident in the way she pulled at the wrapping paper, revealing a box and nearly destroying that as well.

Who: Corliss and @esmerays​

Where: December 25th, The Masquerade

Corliss had been planning this event with his sibling for a rather long time. Poelnaran was an important day for the Fae, arguably one of the most important, and yet they had gone and decided to hold an event for other creatures to participate in. Hollis’ little political journey to Enpheleion was amusing in some capacity. Though he had never particularly enjoyed the strange little place, looking upon it with disgust more than interest, he still respected their interests.

Besides that, he had helped plan this little affair, ripping open the veil and forging the masks that were currently stitched onto the auras of the non-Fae guests. There was really only one reason he had agreed to attend though. And that was his intended. 

They weren’t technically intended. Yet. But Corliss planned on changing that tonight. No better a blessing than a Poelnaran engagement. It would truly be blessed by Mother Below should the silly little girl just realize her place within the world. She would bring such honor to her family just to marry him. And he, so forgiving, so willing to overlook her faults and her treason and bring her into royalty as she had wished. Where was the gratitude?

He had written, asked her to wear a specific garment he’d seen her in once at an event like this, so pretty against the glitter of her skin. Esmeray may have been a fool but she was a radiant fool and he wished to drink his fill of her tonight. Hollis had alerted him upon her arrival and it was easy enough to see her pressed against the wall, likely furious that her strange little pet had been taken by his sibling.

Her aura had shifted. So strange. She really had done those bindings with the wolf. Troublesome, of course, but not something that couldn’t be dealt with. Worst case scenario she could keep him like a guard dog.

“Esmeray. How lovely you look this evening. A divine creature most suiting this Poelnaran. And all by your lonesome. You would dance with me, yes?”

* ✶

Esmeray loved the celebrations of Neussyriel— the vast majority of her youth she'd studied the history of these days, learned their accompanying dances and attended every festivity she'd been able to. As the daughter of Evren and Hasim, the summonings were plentiful and she'd enjoyed the privileges of her parentage until they soured. Corliss himself had been the architect of such acridity, chasing after the peri through all her circlings and pestering her for bindings once she was of age.

The naiad was convinced theirs were paths entwined, that the Mother Below herself had crafted the perfect inamorata for him. After a century and more of avoiding his affections, all Esmeray could see was a pompous idiot without an ounce of depth. Corliss didn't interest her— he could never hope to paint her canvas in all of those colors that Connor did. All those years ago, the naiad had offered her everything ( as close to it as he could give, at least ) and after embarrassing him in front of the ladies in waiting, her mother had shipped her to the mountains. If he wanted her now, it must have been because of his wounded pride. And still, she was uncaring.

Besides that, Esme was convinced he'd only coveted her for the benefits of her lineage...but Esmeray would fly into the Northern Sun Sphere before having children with the Faerie prince. He was an amalgamation of all those things she despised in Hollis, and so much more. He was disgustingly frivolous, full of himself and every bit as vainglorious as his mother.

Spending an eternity with him would be a death sentence.

“Prince Corliss, you're entirely too kind on this day of Her blessings...to give me your company, when I am most undeserving,” while her words checked all the boxes of propriety and decorum, Esmeray's tone was lacking in any true charm, “of course, who am I to deny such a request from your Highness?” She'd be loathed to dance with him— loathe to even spent a single second in his company, but she was in the company of other noble Faeries, and she was expected to act accordingly.

Funny. This was, really, the first chance he’d had to talk to Esmeray. Properly. To just sit down with the love of Connor’s life, which - he’d missed. Cam had missed standing by, being that on-call comfort, that shoulder Connor’d leaned on so easily, before. Christ, that the kid had still come to him, to talk about her… well. No surprise. His parents wouldn’t have wanted to hear a damn thing about it, to say the least. They’d have clenched their wolf-jaws around what Connor felt, how much, who for. All problems, he’d suspect, far as they were concerned.

History had a hell of a way for repeating itself, didn’t it? 

Here and now, though, Cam nodded, glad to hear she’d rallied so quick. “Good. Gonna go ahead and take that as a better sort of sign. Every god around knows we could use one…” Meant Connor was healing alright as well, yeah? Hopefully. And after all Esme’d done to keep that wolf from making a worse mess, they’d want her well on the mend. More shocked than anything, not broken now, only hurting a little; Cam had clocked all that, the winding of a fae conversation more familiar now than it’d been in over a decade. Damn. How thoroughly he’d managed to avoid any flicker of the worlds the Underground brought together, all that time. Not easily, but with a gut-deep certainty that he’d be better off just looking away. As if there was nothing in those dark corners but more goddamn horror. He’d known different, before. 

Cam was looking at Esme, now, smiling more like he meant it. Easier, when he let a little wonder in. Wasn’t there wonder, here? His nephew had fallen in love. With a peri. They were married, bound, like werewolves got bound, like fae did, and like nobody ever before, all at once. They’d braved the Court, and the cost of even getting there - being personally poisoned, by the Seelie Queen’s own Heir. Whatever happened about that, about this block, now, goddamn it… the more of a pack Connor had, the better. And Esme would be at the very heart of it. For better, maybe, but. Forever, regardless. If the fairy tales the Kiskaddens had heard were to be believed. (Most of them weren’t, he’d guess. And wouldn’t ask Esme to clarify; Sorcha’d taught him better manners than that.)

Esme, and Connor. They were surviving, together, and - even when they fought, it was for each other. So it seemed. They were trying, and they were some kind of happy, in the midst of all this shit. The Midnight Underground really could be fucking magical. When you looked. He’d cleared his throat, quietly, swallowing a sweeter sort of ache as he settled back to take in the night. “Suppose I don’t have the right to, but. For what it’s worth, from me: welcome to the family. Such as it is.” Yeah, their family. The love they’d chosen, and been chosen by, despite everything the in-laws had to howl about. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, Esme, to make that mean what it should - just say so. It’d be an honour. And my pleasure. Really.”

* ✶    

For as comfortable as she felt around the people of this Lot, the Lot itself was...less than welcoming. Not to say Cameron had gone out of his way to make it so, but certain things made a Faerie tense in a million little ways. The scent of that Rowan tree on the property carried all the way to her nose, the smell pungent as it tickled at her nose. Besides that, there were so many things she’d kept from touching, wary of what they may be made of. What an odd juxtaposition that had been then, a Hunter with an aura so warm...and the looming wisps she’d caught sight off, peculiar in their own ways, misplaced and perfectly fitted all the same— a mismatch of pieces of the same puzzle, hailing from different boxes altogether and she? Esmeray wasn’t even a jigsaw piece, so where did she fit here? Bones fused together, in a way that didn’t belong, bits of muscle and sinew caught on those exposed edges. 

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she lets herself sink deeper into the seat, “courses, Theirs and their iterations of the plentinfulnesses...theirs are in the rootings of ours all and after,” though Esmeray was well aware that words like those were hard to believe. She knew them though, not so far removed from herself that they’d smite her for all those ways in which she’d circumvented the rules. And they’d taken care of her for some short moments of her life. Bits and pieces of what a family could be perhaps, if not tainted by the all-consuming desires of a mother and father?

It was an odd thing to be welcomed into a family in this way, whatever this way was. If Esmeray knew anything about family, she knew about duty, conditions. Before she was Esmeray, she was Dilara, and before that even, she was one of a clan, part of a matching set for Evren’s own use. Not that she blamed the woman for being who she was, not that she’d ever blamed the one that had brought her into this world. Those first few years of her life were filled with love and what came after was a lesson: something so beautiful came with conditions, and filial piety was the first. If she was good, she was loved and when she made mistakes ( and there were plenty ), Evren and Hasim both rescinded that. 

All those years she gave the prince the cold shoulder her father grew irritated, and when she’d denied Corliss’ proposal, they sent her to the mountainside for some years, punishment for being so ungrateful of all they’d given her. Even then, she told herself she understood, that she’d be given that same love again when she’d earned it. We need the throne, for this clan and for the people of this court, kızım. You see how much they suffer, they’re hungry, and suffering. Her blood runs through your veins, Dilara and she’s a protector, why not do the same?

Take care of Cerese and Nesim could have the throne. Subjugate the queen herself, and her subjects might be better for it. Esmeray owed her parents that much, and if her brother was crowned after the fact, even better. And if she lost her head in the process...a casualty of war.