#adannar

“Not tonight,” Serahlin tries to explain, “they’re watching us, da’len.” The Templars. Damned witch hunters have infested the town after Serahlin’s not so subtle performance at the police station (after they went to Ileth’s school and interviewed him without her permission, Serahlin tore into the department, her own magic cackling as she wore enchanted lipstick to make them obey her). She feels their eyes watching her house, and while they remain safe within its walls due to her wards, outside is another story. Ileth wants to dance and bask in the glow of the moon, which would only invite the hunters.

They can’t go outside, but they can't stay inside either. 

A quick online search later and Serahlin has her solution. 

“Get dressed, da’len, nice and warm,” she tells Ileth and he beams, relief clear on his little face. Ten minutes later, they are all in the car, including the familiars. Serahlin opens the sunroof, allowing the moonlight to fill the car. Ileth gasps and reaches up, mismatched eyes wide with happiness. 

It’s a thirty minute drive, but for once, Ileth doesn’t complain. He hums a song Serahlin cannot place and stares at the moon. The cool night air fills the car and Serahlin feels some of the tension in her shoulders release as they speed down the roads, alone and quiet. It’s the nicest car ride they’ve had in a while.

Eventually, Serahlin makes a turn onto a dirt path, following signs for Bright Lights Drive-In Movies! Five minutes down the road and the light from the drive-in beckons them forward. Ileth shifts in his seat but doesn’t say anything, still watching the moon. 

Serahlin pulls up to the box office and smiles at the teen working inside.

“One adult and one child for-

“Price is per car, ma’am. That’d be fifteen for one show, thirty for the night pass.” Serahlin hands over thirty in cash, fully aware they were not going home anytime soon. The gravel crunches under the wheels as she pulls into the drive-in theatre. The path angles down, following the gentle contour of a hill, leading to the flat open space before the towering screen. The open space allows for an unobstructed view of the moon, making Ileth gasp and strain against his seatbelt. 

She glances in the rearview and worries her lip, “Wait just a little longer and I’ll unbuckle you.” Serahlin pulls into a space a little farther back and closer to the forest edge. Not an ideal spot for movie watching, but a better one for allowing her son some enjoyment of the moonlight. 

She turns the radio to the station for the movie, some older black-and-white film that was rated to be child appropriate by the internet, then undoes her seatbelt. Ileth follows suit and immediately reaches up into the moon-roof. 

“It’s so pretty, Memae.”

“It is, isn’t?” Serahlin answers as she directs her attention to drawing wards on the car’s dashboard. 

“Ileth, come here, please. Good, now place your hand on top of mine. I want you to pay attention to my words and the magic in them - feel them deep inside you and make them heavy with importance. 

Guard within from harm,

Locked and stocked,

Against those with arms.”

The wards flare to life under their hands and Ileth gasps as he feels the spill of magic from both of their hands. By lending his energized magic to the spell, it is stronger and will recognize him as a caster, thereby neutralizing any effect the ward would have against him. 

“I liked that!” Ileth giggles and runs his hand across the ward, feeling the residual prickles of the casting.

Serahlin smiles. Despite Darris, despite the Templars, despite the shit that seems to pile up at their door, Ileth is coming into his own. The magic is part of him, within him, wanting to be used and embodied. He feels the moon in his soul and the magic in his heart. She is raising a witch and it brings her joy.

They spend over an hour in the car, moving every now and then to compensate for the restlessness. Ileth hops around and they play short games of I Spy and sing songs together. Serahlin tells him an old Dalish tale and despite the threat that lurks back home and the creeping exhaustion, she finds herself having a good time. When was the last time she got to just enjoy being a mother? To just be Ileth’s mom and to see him in his element? She isn’t sure, but she knows that her son will make a fine man some day.

Around midnight, Ileth sighs, “I’m hungry, Memae.” 

Serahlin rummages throughout the car but alas, she forgot to bring snacks. She glances out a side window and sees a small concession stand at the base of the hill. Ileth’s stomach rumbles. 

“I will go get snacks, you are to stay in the car no matter what, you understand?” Ileth nods at her instruction. She takes a deep breath and grabs her purse before leaving the car. Her familiar, Risin, jumps out to follow her but she shakes her head at him.

Stay with the car, alert me if anyone comes close to it.

Risin nods at her commands and slinks under the car. 

The walk to the concession stand is not long, but the distance feels interminable. Each step ratchets up Serahlin’s anxiety, and she continually glances back to the car. She reaches the stand and picks out several snacks she and Ileth enjoy, as well as a couple of waters. They will have to figure out the bathroom situation, but that is a bridge they will cross when necessary. 

She finishes paying the cashier when a tall, human man approaches the counter. He puts down a few bags of chips and looks at her from the corner of his eye. 

“Can I get one of those ice-creams from the back?” He asks and the cashier nods before heading to the back. The man turns to Serahlin as she packs up her food and drinks.

“Better watch yourself. Your kind ain’t welcome here, this is a decent town.” 

Serahlin freezes, her lips thinning into a staunch line as everything in her tenses. She wants to feel out with her magic if this man means her elven blood is not welcome or if he is truly a witch hunter, but she doesn’t dare. A witch hunter would feel her probe and potentially incite an incident. She can’t take the risk. 

Instead, Serahlin finishes packing her things and heads out of the stand without a word. She is halfway to the car when a sapping feeling hits her. She stumbles as the magic inside of her feels temporarily drained. Her heart begins to race, she turns around trying to see who could be responsible for the attack. It’s useless, any of the cars here could be holding a Templar who could have sapped her magic. The man from the stand could have followed her, but she doesn’t see him. With her magic feeling low and the car still half a soccer field away, Serahlin braces grinds her teeth and straightens her shoulders. 

She will make it. She has to. 

Serahlin resumes her trek, walking straight to her car. She doesn’t make it two yards before a searing pain flares across her nerves where her magic ought to be. 

“Ah!” She cries, tripping to the gravel. She looks up quickly and sees them this time, four burly looking men walking towards her, menacing in their gait and eyes. 

Risin, to me, NOW. She mentally commands to her familiar before slowly rising. The men increase their pace. She turns and bolts for the woods. Her magic is distant, reminding her entirely too much of when Darris had kept her powerless all those years.

But she has Risin, she has her book, she has her coven.

Sorry Selene, she thinks before reaching through the bond that connects them. She yanks moon blessed magic into her, and it burns dark and deep into her soul. It is totally unlike her and Ileth’s magicks. It is heavy and fiery, and it knows it is not in its rightful host. She reaches the edge of the woods and lets the magic out:

“Silent steps unfollowable, 

Form unsighted, unknowable.” She casts upon her person, Selene’s magic coursing over her in a fiery shadow turning her as silent and invisible as long as she draws no attention to herself. She disappears into the shadows of the woods, tucking herself against the closeness of the trees. 

The men crash into the brush, “Find the witch!” They take out flashlights and she could very well let them pass by and return to her car. But that would leave them out there to hunt her and her own. She’s had enough of just hiding, just getting by. The hunters have threatened her child, her coven.

These men will die. 

She watches them closely as they pass by her hiding spot. The man from the concession stand is there, taller than the rest, now wearing an obvious toolbelt with the old insignia. A sword’s scabbard rests on the belt, aside a pistol holster. He came prepared. The second man wears a similar toolbelt, but he has a dagger in his and a pump-action shotgun in hands. The third doesn’t wear a toolbelt, but gloves that send a chill down Serahlin’s spine. Those gloves are designed to hold a witch, somehow enchanted to neutralize any magic it touches. He could get into the car. He dies first. The fourth man isn’t really a man so much as a tall, gangly youth with a flashlight in his hand and sweat on his brow.

Creators, he’s just a kid. A kid who hunts witches. 

Serahlin allows them to get slightly ahead of her before following. Risin finally catches up to her, silently stalking alongside her.

I need that man’s shotgun, she thinks.

I will distract them, Risin answers before disappearing into the brush. Serahlin quietly positions herself to be walking at the second man’s pace. 

A branch breaks, the men freeze and turn away from Serahlin.

Now or never.

She runs forward and before they can react, she reaches up to the second man’s head and gives a hard twist. 

Snap. Neck broken, the man falls to the ground and she grabs his shotgun. The first man shouts as she turns and fires a shot at the third man, but the shot goes wide. 

The first man utters a quick chant and searing pain fills her again. She yells in pain and the gun drops from her hands. 

Shit. 

Her mind is a mess of pain and anger, her body doesn’t obey her. The man with the gloves grabs her and a wretched sob escapes her. These bastards will not see her cry, not matter how much it hurts. Her book is in her purse, strapped against her body, and there is enough magic in her to send out a message to Selene if needed. 

“Your kind brings evil and disease to our communities, the Maker will cleanse our community of this filth,” First Man says. Serahlin glares at him but does not give him the satisfaction of a response. Her right to exist isn’t a debate, it is a fact that none of the men here will acknowledge.

Instead, she juts out her chin in defiance. 

Another branch breaks. Risin, go, protect Ileth. It’s a useless command, her familiar dies with her. 

That was not me.

She barely has time to register the information before a low growl rumbles through the night air. The first man turns around, pistol raised. 

“What foul demon have you summoned, witch?” Gloved Man asks. She says nothing, only raises an eyebrow. 

The first man takes a step forward. He flashes his light to the dark to see two large, golden eyes peering back at him. He fires a shot just as the creature’s mouth opens, revealing sharp, canine teeth. 

Someone screams as the creature lunges forward, long claws and sharp teeth tearing into the first man. The gloved man lets go of Serahlin and reaches for the shotgun. He lifts it just in time for the creature to leap upon him with bloody jaws and claws. 

Serahlin, still on her knees and dazed from the pain of having all of her magic stripped from her, watches in a daze as the creature, no, werewolf eviscerates the men who would have killed her. She turns from the gruesome sight, looking for the younger one - but all that is left is a fourth flashlight, abandoned in his flight. 

She turns her gaze to the werewolf once more, astonished. Such rare creatures, werewolves are, and not native to this part of Orlais. Yet, here one is. 

The werewolf, apparently satisfied with the deadness of the gloves man, lifts their head and looks straight at Serahlin. Their snout is long like a wolf’s, full of wonderful teeth that just saved her. Their eyes are a golden yellow, glowing brightly in the moon-light dark. Long arms and legs still in its humanoid - no, elfish shape but covered in brown fur. Long ears speaking of their elven heritage still curve back from their head. 

Serahlin swallows, “Thank you.” 

The werewolf tilts their head and takes a step forward, using all four limbs to slowly maneuver towards her. Their movements are smooth and purposeful, eyes fixed on her but there is no snarl or growl. Instead, they are incredibly quiet as they approach. 

Serahlin leans instinctually back, her eyes taking in their form before catching on the red staining the fur at their shoulder.

“You’re hurt,” she breathes. The wolf sniffs but does not change course.

“This is the police!” 

The wolf’s head snaps up at attention at the call before looking at her.

“Go,” they snarl before leaping away and taking off into the night. 

Not one to wait, Serahlin rises and runs through the woods to wind around to her car. She hears the police exclaim at finding a body just as she reaches the parking lot. She slows her steps to a walk so as to not attract attention to herself.

At long last, Serahlin reaches her car. 

“Memae, are you okay?” Ileth asks as she settles into the driver’s seat. 

“Yes, baby, I’m okay.”

“Okay…did you get snacks?”

**

The next morning brings with it aches and what feels like the worst hangover ever. Serahlin’s phone is full of texts and voice messages from Selene and Thenvunin.

You okay??

What happened?

I’m coming over!!

Felasel says you’re ok a wolf helped?? What? 

Right. After leaving the drive-in, she locked herself and Ileth in his room before passing out from exhaustion without thinking to call her coven to tell them what happened. She doesn’t know how Felasel knows what happened - those twins have far too many blessings to fully understand.

Still not entirely able to hold a conversation, Serahlin sends a group text.

We’re ok. Went to the drive-in theatre last night, encountered some hunters but am ok. Will explain more later.

She doesn’t read the follow up texts and instead focuses on getting Ileth ready for school. 

She is looking raggedy when she pulls through the drop-off line. A teacher she does not recognize opens the door and she frowns.

“Where is Mr. Adannar?” Ileth asks and the teacher smiles.

“He wasn’t feeling well this morning, so he is staying home. It will just be Ms. Fleur today.”

“Oh, okay. I hope he feels better soon.” Ileth hops out of the car and Serahlin waves goodbye.

As she drives home, Serahlin’s tired brain comes to an odd realization that may not be accurate. But it is a feeling, and she has learned to not ignore those. 

First, she heads home and puts all the ingredients needed for making chicken noodle soup into a pot. She uncorks a small healing tincture and pours it in as well, giving it a good stir to incorporate it. Then, she heads upstairs and gets ready properly with a quick shower and dressing in a warm dress. 

When the soup is ready and Serahlin is looking like her regular self, she puts the soup into a safe container and heads back out to her car. A simple scrying spell later, and she has the address she needs. Thirty minutes following that, she arrives at a small, but charming home on the outskirts of town. A picket fence surrounds the front yard, while tall trees and hedges bracket the sides, obscuring the view of the backyard. 

Serahlin turns off the car, grabs the tupperware full of soup, then walks down the stone path to the front door. She knocks. No answer. She knocks again. No answer. 

“Mr. Adannar, I brought you soup to help you feel better,” she calls. A long pause stretches before her before she hears the telltale sound of locks releasing.

The door cracks open, “I appreciate the gesture, but I am really in no shape to see anyone. Good day.” He moves to close the door, but she wedges her foot between it and the jam.

“Mr. Adannar, I came all this way to give you soup. Please, at least take it.” Another long pause stretches between them before the door opens to reveal a rumpled, tired looking Adannar with a a bandage clearly wrapped around his shoulder - exactly where the bullet hit the werewolf from last night.

“As I said, I am in no state to-

“Thank you,” she breathes, meeting his lovely yellow eyes. He swallows.

“I…you’re welcome.”

Serahlin takes a step inside but he doesn’t protest. After she sets the soup down on a table next to the door, she reaches up to his bandaged shoulder. He winces but does not move away.

“Broken flesh and bone mend,

Be as you were before blood was shed.”

The magic slips past her fingers and sinks into his skin. His grimace of pain soon eases into one of relief. He takes the hand she had rested upon him into his own, much larger hand.

“I believe it is my turn to thank you.” He maintains eye contact as he leans down and brushes his lips against the back of her hand.

“There is no need, this was me thanking you.”

“So the soup was…?”

“An excuse, though it does have a healing tincture in it, just in case you wouldn’t open the door for me. You saved not only my life, but my son’s, last night. That…there is not enough thanks in the world that will ever be enough.”

“I could never let them harm you or Ileth,” he whispers. 

“No?” She says quietly. He takes a step forward, leaning down.

Before Ileth’s birth, Adannar had become quite renowned for his work. His craftsmanship and service made him one of the most sought out jewelers in Arlathan. He has made Serahlin quite proud in how well he has done. When Ileth came along, Adannar took time off to be a father like any sane person would do. He now only accepts works that need repair and/or reinvigorated enchantments. Most of the work could be handed off to a different jeweler, but this is a service that has distinguished Adannar significantly - his time and dedication to each client and each piece is one of the reasons he is so sought after.

The work is thankfully not too laborious and only requires Adannar to occasionally step back from his new parental duties. On those days, Serahlin is more than able to to spend mother-son time with Ileth.

It is at the tail-end of one of these days. Serahlin and Ileth have only just returned from the newly reconstructed waterfall park that June gifted Sylaise ten years ago. Ileth is tired and Serahlin is quick to get him to his bed for a nap before checking in on Adannar. He has been working on two pieces today for the same client - a tiara and a necklace.

Ardor is a high ranking event planner, the kind that even Sylaise herself has enlisted to assist with composing both large city events and small intimate affairs. Serahlin has worked with the woman before on composing a color scheme for dressing as well has even styled her on occasion. Quite frankly, Serahlin has never quite understood the woman’s appeal - her mediocre taste is only made up for all the dramatic airs she puts on.

But she is a paying client of Adannar, a very well paying client. Her commondations are not easily won but Adnnar has won several.

“It looks like the latching mechanism here needs a full replacement rather than a repair,” he is telling her, “I can recommend some very talented jewelers who are more than capable of making the replacement -

“And exactly why can you not?” Ardor demands. Serahlin frowns but does remove herself from the shadowed vantage point she has by the door.

“I am officially on parental leave, a replacement like this will require time that I simply do not have while I raise my son,” Adannar says, keeping his voice exceptionally polite.

But Ardor frowns, “You are telling me you are refusing to repair the necklace I commissioned you to make because of your brat? Is that it?” Serahlin scowls and steps down a step. A brat? Her child? Just because Ardor lacks a heart to like children does not give her any right -

“It is traditional to take the first twenty years of a child’s life off to spend those rare moments with them. Sylaise herself approved Ileth’s arrival and both my wife and I’s leave. The replacement is not a complicated task, simply a time consuming one that I will be unable to provide you currently.”

The slap is quick and sets Serahlin’s blood to boil. But...inserting herself like this will overplay her hand and while it is an insult that Ardor would slap Adannar here, in his own workshop, attached to his home, it is within Ardor’s rights afforded to her rank. Adannar is not much lower than her, but lower he is. Serahlin is higher than Ardor, but not by much either.

Rage tells Serahlin to throw the disgusting woman out, to defend her husband from this filth. Experience tells her to wait and wait to retaliate in a much more lasting way.

Serahlin waits.

Adannar keeps his head low as Ardor demands he makes the replacement in due time or else. Serahlin must grip the railing with white knuckles to keep her from walking in and displaying exactly what she thinks of Ardor’s threat.

Adannar sighs and nods, “Very well.”

Ardor smiles having won the bout, “Good.”

When the foul woman leaves, Serahlin finally moves to Adannar. She carefully cups his face and murmurs a small healing spell over his face. She strokes his hair and scowls at the ridiculous necklace Ardor threw a hissy fit over.

“Do not worry about finishing the necklace,” she tells him, “I am going to fix this entire thing.”

“It is not the first time I have been reprimanded, vhenan,” Adannar says calmly, leaning into her touch.

“That foul woman insulted you, our child, and me with her bravado. It will not stand.”

“Exactly how do you plan to remedy this? She is to put on Ileth’s fifth year celebration.”

“The plan is still coming together, love, but it will come together. She will not be putting on the celebration. She has shown her true colors and I will not tolerate such brutish behavior around our baby.” Adannar looks like he wishes to protest more, but after a moment, he nods and rests his forehead against her shoulder.

**

Serahlin is scheduled to have tea with Ardor about Ileth’s fifth year celebration. She is dolled up in a very on-trend wide brimmed hat and a dress with a skirt made entirely of feathers dyed a dazzling purple. It is a shade of purple that is just outside of Ardor’s rank to wear since the dye is rare and expensive, particularly when applied to delicate materials such as feathers. She is also wearing diamond encrusted ear cuffs and earrings that are an ostentatious display of wealth.

“I have been thinking, darling,” Serahlin says after the pre-requisite small-talk.

“You are always thinking,” Ardor replies.

“Hmm, yes, and this thought was that little Ileth’s past celebrations were...too large and ostentatious. They did not focus on him and subsequently on the relationship between parents and child. And I think this year, it would be appropriate to scale everything back to a simple day out for my little family instead of a celebration.” She does not bother to ask what Ardor thinks, the first of many slaps to come.

Ardor blinks and tries to recover, “Celebrations for the little ones at this age are traditional and special events, missing even one -

“I do not think there is sufficient time anyways, not with Adannar having to suddenly and unexpectedly take on work even when he specifically has been given leave. I cannot watch and tend to Ileth while also watching over the event planning to make sure everything is perfect -

“That is why I am here, to take that stress -

“I was not finished, darling. I think it is not in anyone’s best interest to continue planning the celebration. We can wait until next year.”

“I am not contracted for next year, as I am sure you know,” Ardor says, her voice shaking slightly. Serahlin shrugs.

“More the pity. Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go spend time with my brat,” with that, Serahlin rises from her seat and walks out of the tea house, leaving Ardor to contemplate exactly what she has done.

Her next stop is not so far from the tea house. A new combination of aviary and garden was put in at the beginning of spring to house the birds that have been displaced due to the renovations happening in the Great Aviary. This new aviary is smaller but exceptionally fashionable and has shown to be quite popular, particularly among bird enthusiasts.

Serahlin hastens her step, the worst of the heat of summer has died down in the cooler months of autumn, but some heat does remain. She has never been good at tolerating the heat, so of course her son was born in the hottest time of the year.

The aviary is blessedly cool, however, kept at a temperate climate for the delicate birds. They are all designed in hues of pink and purple and there are even a few of the exceptionally delicate and short lived Glass Birds. Serahlin sees one, the sun glinting off of its crystalline feathers - it does not fly but hop around from twig to twig.

Serahlin adjusts her hat so that it rests more to the back of her head rather than straight on top, allowing her to see. She slows her pace to the pace of a leisurely stroll. All Melarue said was that Thenvunin would likely be here at this time of day on this day due to his patrol route. It is also in the vicinity of a certain apartment, and truly, that is why Serahlin is here.

She steps down a small set of stairs and takes a turn that leads to a small sitting area. And there he sits, watching the birds with rapt awe. Beside Thenvunin sits his paramour, a flash of red and gold in the verdant landscape.

Serahlin puts on a friendly smile as she approaches Thenvunin first, since she actually knows him and only knows Uthvir by reputation.

“Thenvunin! How good it is to see you,” she says. He blinks out of his bird watching reverie and turns to her. He quickly stands and inclines his head in greeting.

“Serahlin, it is lovely to see you. I did not know you were a bird enthusiast.” He tries to keep himself small which is entirely unnecessary really. She gestures for him to sit and takes a seat herself, directly across from Uthvir.

“I would not say I am an enthusiast, but I do enjoy the creatures. Adannar has recently adopted a charming little bird, calls him Little Fellow. He has full reign over our garden currently, but I have been thinking it might be a good idea to acquire a little avian friend.” She phrases it in almost a question and Thenvunin lights up.

“Oh that is a wonderful idea! Depending on the species, of course - do you happen to know what Little Fellow is?”

“Oh I don’t know, but perhaps you can visit us in the near future? It would be good to have someone so experienced in the care of birds assist us in making sure Little Fellow is the happiest and healthiest he can be. Ileth loves visitors as well, and you have always been good with children.” The offer is not given lightly but she knows Thenvunin, she knows his parents as well and knows she has nothing to fear from the man.

Surprise and honor color the air around him before he conceals himself properly, “I would be honored to assist!”

Serahlin grants him a wider smile, “Wonderful. Now I do fear we have been remiss in ignoring your companion here. I do not believe we have met.” She turns her gaze to Uthvir, who to their credit smiles diplomatically and inclines their head similarly to Thenvunin.

“Oh, I, yes. Serahlin, this is Uthvir, they are...an event planner in Andruil’s services. Uthvir, this is Serahlin, an attendant to Tasallir, attendant to the Lady Sylaise herself.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Uthvir. From my understanding, you were integral to the success of Celebration’s recent ball.” It was a charity ball, raising credit for the reconstruction of a dilapidated bath house in the lower district. Charity balls are largely political schemes done by the rulers to get them out of using their own credit to service the lower ranked, but the ball itself had been rather spectacular and a marvelous success.

“You are as kind as you are beautiful. The ball was a pleasure to work on.”

“That is good to hear, one should enjoy their work.” With only a sentence out of their mouth, Serahlin has made up her mind.

“You were also responsible for the Hunter’s Summer Soiree and Aseli’s Garden Dance, yes?”

“You have done your research,” they reply, eyes glinting with a curious light.

“I make it a point to know people who may be of use to Tasallir and subsequently to our Lady herself.”

“Uthvir serves Lady Andruil, though, why -

“Thenvunin, dear, they can always serve as an auxiliary role to one of our own event planners, but taste should not be discounted simply because it serves another mistress. In any event, the ladies are quite happy with each other at the moment, if you have not heard.” Perhaps she is still reeling from Ardor or feeling particularly...sharp today with her responses. She knows Thenvunin is likely only concerned for his lover, attention from the higher ranking can be dangerous, she knows. She only hopes that her reputation can reassure him that she means no harm...to Uthvir or to Thenvunin.

“You are right, of course,” he backs down quickly and it sets Uthvir on edge. There is a tightness to their mouth and around their eyes that betrays them.

“My apologies for sharpness. I did not come here to bicker over events,” she waves it off but she’s given too much away and Uthvir latches onto it.

“And what brought you here?” They ask. Clever little thing.

“Fresh air and to see if there are any birds I am interested in for the garden.” The lie slips from her easily but she doubts Uthvir is buying it. But they are hardly in a position to call her on it.

“Allow me to make a better apology, both of you should come on Monday. I will have a lovely lunch spread prepared and Thenvunin can inspect the garden for our Little Fellow.” The invitation is slightly more forceful than she typically makes them, but she hardly has time to dilly about anything. She needs to see if Uthvir is an appropriate replacement or not.

“You are too kind, Serahlin.” Thenvunin says, though there is a lack of a commitment.

“For such an enticing offer, I will make myself free,” Uthvir replies, giving her a charming smile. A part of her uncoils internally, Uthvir is not exactly what she expected but that is not necessarily a bad thing. It is rather surprising, she thinks, how reticent Thenvunin is over the whole thing. She can only hope her reputation will alleviate any potential concerns he could have. Those in the higher ranks are known to...overstretch their hands. It is their right, but that does not always means it is morally right. The difference is not one Serahlin ever speaks of, it is dangerous to do so and she has a young child to look after. Besides, actions speak louder than words and she has made it a point to not overreach...much. There have been times where she has leveraged her status, but it has mostly been in situations similar to this one.

“Wonderful,” she says, “I will inform Adannar of our imminent guests. Oh, and as far as dressing goes - my darling boy is very careful but he is still only newly four years old and is prone to spills. I recommend wearing something that is as durable as it is comfortable and fashionable, nothing sheer. Little ones will manage to stain just about anything.” She glances down at Uthvir’s hands which are still in plain view. Her eyebrow ticks.

“Children require a soft touch, I am sure you understand,” she says. Uthvir in response waves their hand and the nails turn to more appropriate rounded edges.

“Done.”

She gives them both a radiant, grateful smile, “Thank you. I will see on Monday!” She rises from her seat and waves goodbye, pleased to have her plan going so well.

**

Come Monday and Serahlin’s home is cleaned and ready for company. There is a spread of delightful foods that keep in with both Thenvunin and Uthvir’s ranks. There are dumplings, fruits, breads, a delightful lamb dish, and pasta since Ileth seems to be on a pasta kick lately. There is fruity water and a very mild sangria available as well. Adannar believes the Sangria is a good idea, even if Serahlin is hesitant to allow alcohol into the house.

“Uthvir is a hunter, they will expect some form of wine and meat -

“They are an event planner, surely they will understand -

“Vhenan, I deal with Andruil’s people much more frequently and they are all hunters in some regard. Uthvir has bested many actually ranked hunters, they are in fact, a hunter wearing the guise of an event planner, please trust me on this.” He kissed her cheek and she gave in - but only for a mild Sangria. They will find no bloodwine here.

The sound of wind chimes echo through the house, announcing Thenvunin and Uthvir’s arrival. Serahlin is in Ileth’s room, helping him put away toys so Adannar gets the door. He is his typical jovial self as he lets them in.

“Who’s vat, Memae?” Ileth asks.

Serahlin touches his lips and smiles, “That is our guests. Let’s go meet them!” She stands up and holds out her hand for him to take. Excitement and a little bit of nervousness bubble out of Ileth. They walk down the hall and into the main living room where Adannar has brought Uthvir and Thenvunin.

The tightness around Thenvunin dissipates almost immediately upon seeing little Ileth. His face relaxes into an easy, friendly smile and he bends down.

“Hello there, my name is Thenvunin.”

Ileth steps closer to Serahlin for a moment, peaking around her skirt, “Hi Fenbunin. My name is Ilef, I’m four.” He holds up four fingers and Thenvunin’s smile broadens.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ileth!”

Uthvir, who Serahlin suspects has far less experience with children, takes a cue from Thenvunin and crouches. When they smile, Serahlin notices it is without the sharp teeth she noticed the other day. They took her suggestion about the nails and applied it to their teeth too, then, smart. It makes her glad, inference like that is a valuable trait.

“Hello Ileth, my name is Uthvir,” they say.

“Hi Ufbear,” Ileth waves. Uthvir does not even seem the littlest bit phased by Ileth’s inability to pronounce their name, they simply maintain their smile and nod in an encouraging manor.

“We’re working on his speech, but he is very smart, isn’t that right, Ileth?” She asks and he nods happily.

“Yeah!”

“That’s my boy!” Adannar says, swooping down to pick Ileth up and kiss his cheek.

“Now time for lunch!”

“YEAH!” Ileth shouts loudly, pumping his hands into the air.

Throughout the meal, Serahlin watches Uthvir. She does not stare or make them uncomfortable, but she makes a conscious effort to watch how they hold themselves and interact with Adannar and Ileth. She looks for signs of lies regarding her son and husband - but they seem genuine as they smile as Ileth eats with great effort and mess. He is still learning his manners and tends to interrupt or to speak with his mouth full, but not once does a flicker of annoyance rise out of Uthvir. All she can derive from them is patience and understanding.

Thenvunin, however, seems to be very concerned. Not about Ileth of course, Serahlin has known for a long time that Thenvunin is good with children and can be trusted around them. But it seems Thenvunin cannot shake the concern he has for the situation. Serahlin supposes she has only fanned that flame with the odd timing of everything. Still, she must be cautious all things considered.

They all make polite conversation about the latest trends, events going on in the city, and so on. Ileth moves from his seat to his father’s lap to Serahlin’s lap over the course of lunch, nibbling food off each plate. At the end of the lunch, Adannar takes Thenvunin and Ileth out to the garden to inspect the suitability for Little Fellow while Serahlin keeps Uthvir inside.

“I must admit, I was nervous how this was going to go. And I now must say how delighted I am by the turn of events,” she says, walking to the sitting room that has the best view of the garden.

“It has been delightful, you have a beautiful family,” they compliment.

Serahlin smiles as she takes a seat and gestures for them to follow suit, “Thank you, I have worked very hard for it. For all of this.”

They settle into a chair, “The rewards are clear and well-earned. Your reputation is spotless.”

“I see you looked into me.”

“Perhaps you are simply so well-known?” They offer and she chuckles.

“You are an intelligent person, Uthvir. Intelligent people look into people who have so obviously looked into them. You know I sought you out that day, we do not need to have any pretenses any longer,” she says.

That takes them off guard for a split second.

“And since,” she continues, “today has been such a success, I feel I can speak freely. I only request that gossip that is spoken in this room remains in this room only.”

“Of course,” Uthvir replies quickly.

“Good. It has come to pass that someone in my employ has insulted my family. I will not tolerate any such behavior or perceptions particularly where my child is concerned.”

Uthvir’s easy going smile disappears and is replaced with a scowl.

“Who is not your concern, what is your concern is that I am now in need of an event planner. Ileth’s fifth year celebration is arriving in ten months - I need competence, good taste, and most importantly, someone who will not insult my family or make my child feel unsafe or wrong in any way shape or form. This was a test of sorts, to see how you would be around my child without having any commitment to it.” She takes a sip of her water and watches their eyes light up in excitement.

“It would be an honor to plan Ileth’s celebration, he is a very special child.”

“He is, and I would like to employ your services.”

“I am more than happy to accept the task.” Their reply is quick and full of conviction that it helps ease a tension in Serahlin that has been with her since she saw Ardor’s insult.

“Wonderful. We will have to start planning soon, we only have ten months after all. But for now, I think it would do well to join our loves in the garden.” All the formalities can be taken care of away from Ileth and the calm of the home. The agreement is more or less in place and Uthvir seems eager enough to plan the celebration. It will be a good maneuver for them - a child’s celebration is a rare event to have the chance to plan and rarer still considering Serahlin’s rank. It is good publicity with good pay. At the end of the day, everyone wins - Serahlin makes a point to Ardor, Ileth gets a lovely party, and Uthvir will gain reputation and potentially status.

Arlathan society is one of maneuvers and posturing. Maneuver enough and it’s a posture enough. Serahlin does not posture without substance behind it. She realizes that since having a baby, her reputation has taken an interesting turn. It is true that it is more difficult to monitor the reputation when Ileth was smaller and she still does not have all the time she used to for it, but she is no doormat. She is still Serahlin, and she will do what she must to protect her family. If anything, motherhood has made her more dangerous.

Ileth runs over to Uthvir when they enter the garden, showing them a shiny frog he caught by the fountain. Uthvir bends down and oohs over the tiny amphibian, careful with both Ileth and the frog.

Serahlin wanders over to Thenvunin whose attention has been drawn to Uthvir. He watches them with a speculative expression, worry and affection clear as day upon his face.

“They’re a good one,” she says in a soft voice to him.

“They have been...quite unexpected,” he admits.

“The ones you love always are,” she tells him, “I never expected Adannar and now here we are, married with a beautiful son. It’s hard to learn to trust your heart when it has been wrong in the past, but...trust your heart here, Thenvunin.”

He takes a deep breath, “I do not know what you mean.”

“Even so.” She pats his shoulder before returning to Adannar. She takes his hand and he kisses her forehead.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Hmm?”

She must remain strong. Adannar is hidden away here, somewhere, and he could need her. This is a terrible place to go missing, deep in the dark part of the forest with no one but peeping spirits to watch the tragedy. She cannot just leave him be, not while she can ride after him and help him. It is the least she can do after he has done so much for her.

“How much farther, Huirin?” She asks. The mechanical deer turns its head to her. Its usual whirring noise pauses to click twice, two metal eyelids roll over reflective eye sockets. It is some sort of communication, but not one she can discern. It turns its attention back to whatever trail it’s following to Adannar, the whirring kicking up once again.

Velini snorts but follows the strange deer. It is not long until they start to noticeably ascend what must be a small mountain. The path is surprisingly sure, however, and Velini does not struggle with his footing. The trees curve over the path, only a few having roots that disrupt the packed earth and…stones? Who would lay a stone path this deep in the woods?

They come to a fork in the path, one leading up, another down. Sunlight spills down, illuminating the path that leads up, while casting the path leading down in dark shadow. Huirin, of course, heads down. Serahlin swallows and steels herself before urging Velini to continue to follow Huirin.

Thick shadows envelope them as they descend, and the forest visibly changes. She is reminded of the great tree Adannar showed her, the one housing a spirit of Content. These trees feel…they feel like that. Magical. Aware. Watching.

The leaves begin to take on iridescent and glowing hues, mushrooms even appear to be larger and brighter. And an air of tingling magic surrounds them all. The little hairs on Serahlin’s arms and the back of her neck rise at the magic. Her concern morphs into a near panic. Adannar likes to harvest alchemical ingredients – they’re for his creatures and for potions he likes to dabble in. He laughed once, saying he was no alchemist, but he can concoct some poultices and potions that are helpful. He gave her one, once, to help sore muscles. She cannot be certain, but she suspects these mushrooms and other plants are likely subjects for alchemical harvesting. He could have fallen, hit his head! Or twisted his ankle, broken his leg, his arm…the list goes on.

She keeps fighting the urge to ask Huirin if it knows anything. It could, it very well could, but that doesn’t mean she will understand what it says. Or blinks, or whirrs. She should have asked Adannar to teach her how to communicate with his creatures, that way in case something like this happened she would be able to find him more quickly. It’s no matter now, but when she finds him, she is going to sit him down and have him teach her. After he gets better, of course. If she doesn’t kill him herself, after scaring her like this.

Huirin keeps the same walking pace, and it feels terribly slow. They started the search hours ago! And still no sign of Adannar. Where is he? Heavens, she hopes he isn’t dead, that…that would be the worst.In the short amount of time they have spent together, she has come to care for him, more than she ever thought possible. Before, she had resigned herself to a loveless marriage – to a good man, but still loveless. She never dreamed that when she ran she would ever find someone like Adannar. She did not know that such kindness could lurk in such unexpected places.

Now she must return the favor. It’s the right thing to do and besides she…cares for him. Deeply. So much so that the thought of fulfilling her duty to marry Dirthamen or someone else fills her with a sour taste in her mouth and dread in her heart.

She cannot in good conscious marry someone while she feels this way for Adannar. It isn’t right. Even if it is simply political, a marriage is a marriage. She would still be connected to Dirthamen and longing for someone else.

At least hiding out in the woods means she doesn’t have to marry anyone she does not desire.

Feeling like for Adannar is exactly why she needs to find him. And why if he turns up dead or hurt, she’ll kill him for scaring her so. She’ll kiss him, then kill him. Or maybe she’ll just kiss him. Really, she just needs to find him.

They descend ever further into the darkened forest, now illuminated by glowing mushrooms and other plants she doesn’t know. Adannar had been teaching her some of the more mundane plants, focusing on the herbs and foliage that could help her. None of the plants here could be defined as mundane. Some of them even come across as hostile. Before, she would never have believed a plant could be hostile, but nothing makes as much sense as it did. Or perhaps she just sees more.

Huirin makes a clicking noise and Velini stops, dragging Serahlin out of her thoughts. The air is colder and the glow from the mushrooms darken. Some of the mushrooms even shrink back as a shadow slinks through the trees.

Velini shakes and steps back. She tries to comfort him but he is inconsolable as the shadow draws nearer. Huirin’s clicking noise grows louder before it leaps at the shadow, a light emanating from its head. The shadow shrinks back in haste, and the mushrooms grow back, lighting the pathway once more.

“What was that?” She asks, breathless and more than a little disturbed. Huirin turns to her, plates on its head reforming to the face she is familiar with. It makes a low whining noise then shakes. Right. It’s…whatever that was.

Serahlin reaches down and pats Velini’s neck, reassuring the horse even while she needs reassuring herself. That shadow is only one beast that occupies this forest, she reminds herself. Just because she has been fortunate in the forest does not mean that her experience is representative of the nature of the forest. A dragon lurks here, as do many other creatures that would see her harmed. Or worse.

Huirin chirps at them and Serahlin encourages her horse to follow it. Remember Adannar, remember that he could need her and Velini.

The path winds down but it remains a path. To where, she can only guess a terrible pit filled with bodies. Maybe this path was made by beasts that would haul their kills off to a deep part of the forest and perform dark rituals furthering their beastliness.

She has got to find Adannar if only to stop these ridiculous thoughts from polluting her mind.

Huirin turns around a bend and Serahlin follows – to see the mouth of a large cave. Long dark moss dangles, nearly obscuring the soft light emanating from the cave. Light, from a cave. It is a magical forest, she reminds herself. Huirin ducks into the cave, the moss trailing over its smooth metal body. Its pace remains that same, undeterred by the cave and moss. It is likely safe, then, or as safe as it can be.

Deep breaths, she can do this. Be brave, be brave.

She urges Velini forward and braces herself for the moss. It is soft, but in her face and not unlike unwanted touches in a ballroom. Thankfully, it is over in a heartbeat and she is free to ride tall and unhindered after Huirin.

As she crosses the threshold, a wave of magic comes over her and she gasps at the rush of it. Magic back home always felt cool and powerful, and tame compared to the wild swirling gusts of it in the forest. Here, magic is like its own entity, moving and shifting. And powerful.

It makes sense that the magic in the forest, and so deep into it, would have a lot of magic. Spirits form out of massive emotion and magic, if one is not present, then the spirit cannot form. Its why spirits are not common back home, and why they almost take on bodies as soon as they can. Without a well of magic present, maintaining their spirit forms is not only difficult, it’s risky. Spirits who do not wish to take on bodies back home risk shrinking into nothing or shattering from the strain to stay alive.

She knew that it wasn’t like that everywhere, but it was shocking to see so many spirits in the wood. Adannar had explained that he was the rarity. Most spirits in the wood opt to refrain from a corporeal form.

If that is so, she wonders why Adannar took on a body.

Her thoughts settle as the magic flurries away from her, allowing her to gaze in stunned awe at the cave around her. No, not a cave, a…she has no proper word for this! The walls are shined stone, swirling with blues, greens, greys, and browns. Just past the mouth of the cave, the walls turn from rounded to actual walls. The ceiling is high, and not just palace high but so high that she cannot quite make out where the ceiling is. Only that it is there.

Huirin is undeterred, but perhaps it cannot experience the incredible magnitude of this place. The magic, the obvious care that has been taken to create a palatial home…cave. Enchanted sconces light up as they walk by, blue tinted light illuminating the smooth walls.

Velini’s hoofbeats echo in the hallway, filling the otherwise silent room with a steady beat.

What is this place? Who made this?

Is this some entrance to the dwarven empire? She thought those were heavily guarded and sealed off while the surface nations battled the dragons. Perhaps they forgot about this entrance? Or maybe the age of the place marks it as different? Maybe it was abandoned ages ago due to the magical fluctuations in the forest.

Huirin stops at the end of the hallway and turns to her, its eyes mimic blinking and it makes a whistling noise at her.

“I am still following,” she asserts. It would make some sense if this was an entrance to the dwarven empire. They have crafting abilities that would fascinate Adannar considering his hobby of creating these automatons.

Huirin turns to the right, down a set of stairs, activating more lights with its descent. Serahlin dismounts and hitches Velini to a sconce holding a stone. She follows Huirin on foot, down the stairs, feeling dread creep into her. She is not that strong, if she needs to pick him up…how will she?

The stairs end and another hallway stretches before the, but now piled with stuff. There are boxes upon boxes upon dresses and cabinets and satchels…just so much stuff.

“What is all of this?!” She says, mostly to herself but Huirin takes it upon itself to make a few chirps then a low honking noise, not unlike a goose.

“Don’t take that tone with me, this is a lot of stuff…and why is fine tableware next to not so fine linens? And is that a…lamp? That’s from Veharan, across the gulf, isn’t it? Oh, and those are silks from Pah’naar! What in the world was Adannar doing down here?” She’s beginning to suspect he found this place and has gotten enveloped in snooping through all of this stuff! Where did it come from? Who collected all this?

Some of these things are seriously beautiful, and they are just…wasting away in this cave. As nice as cave it is, it is still sequestered away from everything.

Huirin chirps at her, making her realize she has stopped moving. Serahlin snaps out of her awe for everything around her and steps quickly after the mechanical deer.

The hallway curves and there are gaps in the piles of stuff. In those gaps are gigantic doors – one set of doors is open and inside is just another pile of things. Light reflects off the shinier and more valuable items, while others remain in crates and satchels. She pauses when her eye catches the light glinting off what must be a cascade of golden coins. Or a mountain of them.

All this wealth, all these things, stored away. What is this place?

Serahlin resumes following Huirin, coming to another large door that is cracked open. Huirin nods its head toward the door, then moves behind Serahlin and all but shoves her through the door.

“Excuse me!” She says, but follows his instructions and goes inside. Huirin does not follow and a heavy dread worms its way through Serahlin’s body. Whatever is in here is deterring even Huirin. Should she even be in here? The lights are dimmer and the stones in the sconces are not lighting as she walks carefully through the room.

The piles in here are much more specific, either pillows or blankets or other soft creations, making the space almost like a large bed.

A gigantic bed. For something as equally massive.

No, no, no. She has to get out of here, if Adannar truly wandered down here…he is not getting back out. A broken sob leaves her, the sound filling the space. She clamps a hand over her mouth in horror just as something massive moves in the shadows. A low rumbling echoes from the shadows making her eyes widen in terror.

Adannar deserves to be buried, deserves better than to die at the jaws of a cruel beast. And there is nothing she can do. She is unarmed, unarmored, and it has been more than a century since she has lifted a sword. And if she is not quick, she will only join her darling Adannar in his demise.

Oh Adannar, Serahlin mourns for a second before turning on her heel and running. She runs from the room and back down the hallway, past all the piles of stuff. Behind her, she hears the beast moving after her. Its breathing is loud, filling the hallway with a rumbling timbre that spurs her to go faster.

“Serahlin?” Her voice echoes through the space and horror fills her. It knows her name? How?! Heavens above, let her escape this treacherous place!

She runs up the stairs, her legs burning with protest. But she ignores it, she has to. The rumbling grows closer but she rounds the top of the stairs and rapidly unhitches Velini. She mounts her horse and spurs him into a run.

Velini charges down the hallway and out of the cave, and they are heading up the path when the earth shakes and she feels the wind at her back. It is a pushing motion followed by a pull – like when a bird takes off.

She tries to urge Velini to go faster, but they are on an incline and the horse can only go so fast. Goodness knows that he was never trained to outrun a dragon.

They reach the top of the hill when the air snaps with a sudden chill. The shadows from before surge forward, lead by a screeching white spirit with outstretched gnarled hands. Serahlin screams as the hands tear her clothes and sink into her body, causing pain to lance deep. Her vision blanks out and she only realizes Velini is throwing her too late.

He bucks wildly, throwing Serahlin, vision blurry and screaming down the hill. Her body slams into the earth and rolls. She tries to shield herself from the blows by the demon and the tumbling in equal measure.

The pain! She cannot see and as she falls, her heart races faster and faster and the demon grows stronger – sinking deeper into her.

She flails her arms back in a desperate attempt to grab hold of…something! Her hand comes up with a root that she snatches quickly, wrenching her arm and halting her suddenly. The sudden cessation of movement temporarily dislodges the demon and she gasps in relief, only for it to return with vengeance. It tears into her, forcing her to turn into herself, releasing the root. She does not move but she screams and writhes in pain.

The ground shakes and the demon hisses, its movements halting but it remains atop her. Serahlin doesn’t dare look up, only hoping for a reprieve, just…something to stop it. Stop it all. How does this keep happening? Running from monster to monster right to another monster. Is this world just so plagued that this is her fate? To be hounded and harmed and thrown to death time and time again? What a cruel fate, to never know lasting peace, to never have happiness be a constant fixture in her life. The pain of that is enough to make her sob, physical and spiritual pain surrounding her in a bubble that makes the demon screech in delight.

The dragon roars in retaliation, the sound deafening. Sudden heat fills the air and the demon is wrenched away from her. Serahlin gasps in pain of the removal of the claws but oh the relief! The pressure and pain ease, making her eyes snap open –

To see the dragon, the great and terrible dragon of the forest, pinning the demon, much larger and more solid seeming now, to the ground. It pulls its head back, golden mane moving almost beautifully with it. Its maw opens and from it spews a geyser of steam. The demon screams and shatters into a dozen dark shards.

It…killed the demon.

The dragon lifts a clawed hand and waves it over the shards. Magic fills the air as light blasts from the dragon’s palm. When it rests the hand, the shards are no longer dark but filled with soft light. It…not only killed the demon but managed to somehow purify shards? She has never heard of such a thing

Maybe…maybe it has forgotten she is here. The demon was very distracting as was the magic. Maybe, just maybe she can just…sneak away.

But when Serahlin tries to move away, she collapses against the ground, pain blooming anew in her chest. Her ribs…something is wrong.

The dragon’s head snaps towards her and the last thing she sees are its yellow eyes that are somehow vaguely familiar.

I’m so sorry, Adannar…I failed.

**

This is not how Adannar wanted Serahlin to discover his nature. And now she is injured on the forest floor, after witnessing him killing. He should have taken care of Torment years ago, he knows, and now she is paying for his inability to act.

A sound of torment escapes him, and he fears it just sounds…beastly. But she is unconscious now, limp and most likely internally bleeding after falling so far.

With ever so much care, Adannar picks her prone body up and murmurs a healing spell over her. It will keep her until he can heal her properly back in his home. He takes to the sky after some of the worst of the bleeding is resolved and hopes to everything good in this world that she will recover. He would not be able to handle her not, truly.

He takes her to a guest room that he has managed to clean in the recent months of knowing her. He had hoped he would one day bring her here, that she would sleep in this bed, surrounded by all the beautiful things he has collected throughout the years. He wanted to show her all of the beautiful things, to tell her stories of the people who once came to see him.

But now…she is alive, but hurt. She is surrounded by the beautiful things but all he cares about now is making sure that she is alright.

He spends the next two days laboring over her healing. He wishes she was stable enough for him to take her to Selene, but he does not even know if Selene would tolerate having someone like Serahlin in the Glass Tower. After all that she has been through…after her self-imposed isolation, he doubts it.

The first day is the worst. She has several broken ribs and one of her lungs ended up collapsing after he repaired the ribs. She lost a lot of blood to the demon and he has to replenish it somehow. He generally dislikes using spirit shards for anything other than helping birth new spirits, but he is filled with enough anger at Torment that he uses its shards to power himself to heal her. All of the shards, filling her so much with magical healing energy that it makes her hair grow even longer and her skin glow faintly.

He remembers when Torment was Composure. Brought into existence by a group of dignitaries from Veharan. But it had corrupted after the long years of isolation and the general lack of composure of everything around it. Now it will serve to bring the woman who had so exemplified its former self back to life.

The second day, Adannar cries. A poet once wrote that the reason rivers existed because dragons would cry atop mountains and the sadness had to flow somewhere. Oceans were of sorrow and sadness, of joyous triumph. It was a beautiful sentiment, incorrect but beautiful. But he does take care to cry into the river that runs under his lair, flowing from his home waterfall.

She brought so much light to this dark place. She made him feel joy again, made him feel more like himself than he has in hundreds of years. And he had only ever wanted to make her feel the same. He wants her to know the joy she has made him feel, he wants her to be surrounded by love and light and everything good. And instead, tragedy strikes.

He returns to her side, shifted into his elf form. He can feel her healing aura even down in the cellar and he worries he will shock her too badly if he remains in his true form. It is not much trouble to ensure she is comfortable. But if she asks…he will not lie. He cannot lie to her anymore, it is wrong, and she…she deserves to walk away if she wishes. He would not blame her if she did, not after…all this.

Adannar watches over her through the night, trying not to fall asleep. Sleeping in too late is what got them all into this mess. He had been resting so wonderfully, so deeply and perfectly, that he had not realized that he had not woken at the appropriate time to see her. He does not know why she decided to come looking for him, is it too much to hope that she had searched for him out of worry? And what a terrible fright to find his lair, finding him yes, but also finding something she had been taught to fear.

On the third day, Serahlin wakes. It is slow and Adannar must restrain himself from fussing too much over her.

“Memae…?” She murmurs, lifting her hand in his direction. He takes it gently between his and settles next to her.

“No, darling, it’s me, Adannar,” he tells her, smoothing hair away from her face. Serahlin blinks her eyes open, not only pink but faintly glowing with magic. And oh when she smiles it is like being bathed in holy light.

“Sweet Adannar,” she says, reaching up to his face, “if this is death, then it cannot be so bad if I am with you.”

His heart aches at the sentiment and he lets her pull him down to her, kissing her long and slow. She is warm and pliant so full of life. When he pulls back, he cups her face and regards her with the softest expression he can.

“As beautiful a sentiment that is, my dear, you are not dead, and neither am I.” Her brow scrunches in confusion and she shakes her head.

“How?”

“I healed your injuries with the shards of the demon,” he explains but her confusion remains.

“That does not make any sense. Huirin lead me into the dragon’s lair when I asked him to take me to you.” It is only then that she looks around and recognition dawns on her face. He is leaning back as she sits up, fear and shock bleeding off her.

“I…” she stops then turns to him, her once soft gaze now knowing and fearful, “you?”

He nods slowly, “I did not know how to tell you.”

“You…you…you lied to me?” She accuses, and he flinches. She is right, he lied and he has no recourse.

“I was afraid,” he says, unsure of how else to explain.

“You? You were afraid? You are a dragon!” She says, horror creeping into her voice. “You could have killed me!”

“I would never hurt you,” he says quickly.

“I don’t know that!” She responds just as quickly. He cannot meet her gaze, all he feels is shame for letting it go on for this long.

“Once, when the times were different, and my kind were not hunted or turned into storybook villains, I would have not hidden it. I was…afraid that you would know and refuse to know me, refuse any help I have to offer. It was wrong of me, selfish and wrong and I am so, so sorry.”

She draws her blanket around herself and moves into the corner of the bed as far away from him as she can get.

“You were never in any danger from me,” he says softly, “please, I…was afraid if you knew you would inform knights or someone.”

“So you lied?!”

“I did not mean for it to go on as long as it did. But I also did not expect to become so enamored with you, either, and I couldn’t…I was wrong.”

She is quiet for a long time, staring at him with the same horrified expression. He cannot tell what the worse crime is – being a dragon or lying about not being a dragon. But he knows that he never wanted this, and that his concealment has only made everything worse.

“So it is my fault that you fell in love with me and you couldn’t tell me the truth?” Her voice is low and sharp and it cuts him to down to size.

“No! It is my fault, I place none of the blame at your feet. I am…I was so wrong, and I have no preconceptions of your forgiveness.”

“I…can leave? I am not your prisoner?” She asks and that hurts too, to think that she ever thought he would be capable of such a horrid thing. He nods slowly.

“If it is your wish to leave, then I will not stop you, and neither will any of my creations. I will ensure your safety out of the forest even. You should not have to pay for my mistakes.”

She falls silent and he can see her thinking, coming to a conclusion that will hurt, but one he will respect.

“That is what I wish,” she murmurs. He nods and steps back.

“Very well. You may dress and then either I or Huirin can take you to your horse,” he says, keeping as much emotion from his voice as possible.

“I would prefer Huirin,” she replies and he nods again.

“It will be arranged. I hope you find all the happiness and joy your heart desires,” he says, leaving the room. He wants the last word to be kind and good and he cannot stand the thought of anything else. If she leaves, he wants her to remember as fondly as possible under the circumstances.

Adannar leaves her room and finds Huirin. He gives the deer instructions to wait for Serahlin then to take her to Velini. The horse had suffered some minor injuries but those had been easily healed. He has primarily rested and eaten in the past few days, and now he can take his rider back…to wherever she wishes to go.

Melancholy and heartache fill him so intensely, he must retreat to his rooms. But a restlessness takes hold, as well as a greediness to see her one last time. He moves from his rooms to the atrium, it is up higher into the mountain, with a great lift that allows him to rise quickly to the top of the mountain if he does not wish to don his true form. The glass ceiling opens like a flower and he steps out onto a small balcony, just in time to watch her ride out of his lair and into the forest.

Days pass in a similar fashion. He comes and helps, and they talk. She’s still largely a mystery to him, and she doesn’t give much away other than she lived in a palace. So not just a lady, but potentially a princess.

After two weeks, Adannar shows up at the cottage, as usual, with a basket of breakfast. Serahlin is already awake and working on the garden they planted last week. She stands up to greet him and the hem of her skirt catches on a bramble, ripping it. Oh dear.

But Serahlin doesn’t look so much as disheartened as annoyed.

“These dresses are beautiful, Adannar, but I keep tearing them. I don’t suppose you have any breeches?” She hefts the skirts up to around her knees and walks awkwardly to Adannar.

“I do have breeches, I can fetch some if you’d like,” he offers, setting the basket of food down on the outside table they built a few days ago.

“Oh you don’t have to go now –

“It’s no trouble! I will leave you to breakfast and go fetch your breeches and then we can be about the day.” He doesn’t mind the running back and forth, or flying really, especially if it means Serahlin will continue to look at him like that. With kind gratitude, gracing him with a smile and a light expression he’s only recently been treated to. In the weeks Serahlin has spent here, she has grown from suspicious to politely reserved to happily smiling at him in greeting, not caring if she stumbles over a rock in the garden or not. It’s a surprising transformation, one that has endeared him greatly to her.

“I do know how to sew, the only practical thing I know, but I know it. If I just had cloth and needle –

“Really, Serahlin, it is no trouble. But I will bring you what you need to sew.” He opens the basket and pulls out a loaf of bread he baked through the night. She hesitates, and he knows he has her. Bread, any princess’s weakness.

He leaves her to her breakfast and rushes off to the glen where he can shift and fly quickly to his lair. He launched himself up into the air and travels at great speed. The wind is with him this morning and helps him along to the lone mountain.

He raids the wardrobes filled with clothes, taking out the slimmest of the breeches. Before the days of the knights and their propaganda, Adannar hosted researchers and other dragons. Sometimes at the same time. Both groups required changes of clothes and over the years, he accrued quite the collection. They’re mostly basic style leather breeches, a few cloth types, but the leather is better, it’ll provide better protection and wear for Serahlin as she traipses about her new home.

Adannar packs a bag then heads back, the bag delicately balanced on a claw. He lands back in the glen and shifts. He’s wearing breeches himself, today, along with a longer style tunic. He is in a good mood when he returns to Serahlin, but the smile on his face quickly disappears when he spies her terrified expression.

“Adannar!” She cries, running quickly to him. All sense of propriety must have left her in that moment, because she flings her arms around him in a crushing hug.

“Ser-Serahlin?” He asks, shocked at the sudden contact. He drops the bag and returns the hug, wrapping his arms around her slim body. It has been…a long time since he has had this much contact with someone with a beating heart. There are spirits, his creatures, but Serahlin is warm, solid, breathing. He feels her breath on him as she holds him tight.

“I saw that dragon and feared the worst! It was all I could do to hide in the cottage and hope for your safe return.” She holds onto him tight and her concern over him is so heartfelt and touching.

He leans into her touch, “The dragon does not bother me, but your concern and hugging is very welcome.” She stiffens at that and pulls back quickly, hands covering her mouth.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to impose! I was so relieved to see your return, I…I must have lost control,” she explains. Adannar laughs and gently takes her hands down from her face.

“There is no worry. It has been a long time since I’ve been touched, any surprise from it is good.” He holds her hands so that they are between his larger ones in a comforting way he once saw of elven researchers that were visiting him.

A blush colors Serahlin’s cheeks, “Still, I let my emotions overcome me. I would never have done this back home…”

“You are not there, you are safe to feel whatever you wish to feel here,” he explains.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, averting her gaze. She pulls her hands free of his and he lets her go without resistance. He can understand her being reluctant to be more open with him, that run and hug and sudden expression was so unlike the Serahlin he has come to know. But it was still her, just a her that wasn’t worried about expression or judgement.

“The clothes!” He remembers, grabbing the bag off the ground. He hands it over to her, “I hope at least one of them fit, if not…we’ll see about stitching something together that does.” She takes the bag and thanks him before darting into the cottage.

Adannar occupies himself by the chicken coop. No chicks, yet, those eggs still have a couple of weeks to hatch, but the rest of the chickens seem happy enough. They have a large enclosure, nice places for roosting – it’s good. They unfortunately can’t let the chickens be free range, too many foxes and other predators around to let them out. He reaches in the bag of feed and tosses it out to them. The birds flock to the food even though they’ve already been fed.

The back-door cracks open and Serahlin steps out, bedecked in her new tunic and breeches. Her hair is pulled into a braided bun and she looks ready to conquer the world. Or at least the forest.

When she first arrived, Adannar knew she was beautiful. Physical beauty is easy, however. There are many in this world who are beautiful. But she has shown to be so much more than that. She is compassionate, tenacious, and despite her upbringing, not arrogant or condescending.

Buoyed by the emotions she brought to the surface with her hug, Adannar beams and walks up to take her hand.

“You look spectacular, the breeches were a wonderful idea.”

She smiles back, “Thank you. I haven’t worn breeches much before, just for my archery lessons. Mother did not believe learning other forms of combat befitted our station – ‘we have people for that, Serahlin.’” She stops suddenly, “and that is not appropriate, I don’t know what has gotten into me today.”

“It’s the forest! It’s Improper Day, the deer are the chasing the wolves, it’s all very wacky,” he says, and she chuckles.

“My mother would never hear of such a day. Heavens forbid someone was ever improper to her.” Her eyes grow distant and she looks at the way she came a month and a half ago. Adannar moves from around the coop to stand by her.

“You do not have to worry about propriety here. I have been alone so long that I don’t even really know what el- people find proper. I’ve been trying to be proper with you, but I’ve mostly been guessing.” He shrugs and gives her a smile. She faces him and her expression turns less wistful.

“You are surprisingly proper for a hermit living in the forest.” Her compliment is sweet and he feels just a tad bashful at it. Compliments were usually levied at him for his draconic form – grand, great, majestic. He’s even been mistakenly called fearsome, but not proper, and not with the soft eyes like Serahlin’s. The expressions he’s inspired in the past ranged mostly from fear to awe, even to pointed mirth, but not gratitude or softness.

Adannar reaches forward and takes her hand.

“I want to show you something.” He leads her down the steps and into the forest. She laughs as they jog along, a free and happy sound.

“I am glad I am wearing breeches and boots for this! Where are we going?” She calls. He guides her past the glen he transforms in then to a bubbling creek.

“It’s a surprise!” He calls back. She laughs and continues to jog with him, following his movements. While dragons grow and stop at maturity overly changing in physicality, the forest is constantly changing. Learning its ways is as much knowledge as much as an art. To run like this means to know how the forest is, all the places to step, places to not step. He guides her through it, not going as quickly as he can, but quick enough to make Serahlin’s face flush and her breathing deepen. She tugs on his sleeve halfway to their destination.

“Stop, stop, I need to catch my breath,” she pants, leaning against a tree. His own breathing is labored but it’s not much for him. If anything, the exertion feels good, he hasn’t done anything like this in so long. He’d laze around his lair, motivation to do anything reaching zero. He looks to her, her breaths slowly evening out as she catches her breath. Serahlin has been a catalyst to how’s he felt these last few weeks. She reminded him of himself in a way. He’s taken to working on his creatures, actually building new ones, after he leaves her each evening. The lair is slowly getting put back in order and he wants to thank Serahlin. As much as she says he’s done for her, he feels she’s done for him as well.

“Normally we stroll through the forest. Change can be good, but this is quite sudden,” she says after her breath returns.

“I want to show you something specific, to thank you.” He takes her hand again and she grows curious, pushing off from the tree to step closer to him.

“Thank me? I should be the one thanking you.”

He can’t truly answer her, so instead and he moves closer and raises his free hand to gently caress her cheek. She swallows and lips part. His ears can hear her heart, once close to rest now speeding up again before they even begin moving.

He pulls his hand away slowly. They resume traveling through the forest, but at a more reasonable pace. She doesn’t speak again, but she holds his hand fast and lingers close. He helps her over the now stream and in only half an hour, her ears twitch and she looks westward.

“Is that…” she doesn’t finish her sentence. Adannar only smiles in response before leading her the rest of the way. He pulls fronds apart and she gasps at the beauty before her.

The waterfall – a great pillar of falling water from one of the highest of the cliffs outside of the mountain range proper. The cliff was covered in a special rock, one that only few could tell was special. To most, the stone appeared average and dull, but he could see it for what it was – an iridescent rock that revealed itself under the right magic. What appears to be dull is actually shining, browns and blues swirling together, making the water shine and appear almost like it’s moving. The pool of water at the bottom is blue, tinged with magic and reflecting the blue of the rock at the bottom.

This waterfall is older than he is. Before light, before dark, before feeling anything, he knew this waterfall and the joy it brought to the animals and people around it. A source of water and beauty, a wonder unlike any other. He remembers seeing for the first time the turquoise and copper colors meeting and feeling so pure and light.

“It is amazing, I…” Serahlin steps forward, down the bank, letting his hand go as she approaches the pool. Can she see it? The colors, the magic? He wants her to, he realizes, he wants her to see the magic that is so close to him, even if it is no longer him. He is no longer Joy, but this…this is part of him. Even he can’t tell her what he is, not yet, at least, he can show her where he began. She doesn’t know it is his beginning, but…he can know enough for them both right now.

Serahlin is totally dwarfed by the enormity of the waterfall but she doesn’t look out of place as she strides down the bank to the water.

“The water has some healing properties. I have woken up with a sore back and a dip in here later, I’m no longer sore,” he says as she dips her hand into the water. When she pulls her hand back she marvels at the loss of the cut on her finger from earlier in the morning. A chicken had bitten her, hard enough to draw blood, and now it’s gone.

“This is…how does something like this exist and we don’t know about it?” She says and something in Adannar clenches in fear. He is fine to share the waterfall, it is just that…it once was bottled and sold as healing tonics. The mystical waters of the Copper Falls, but the property leaves once it leaves the pool. The magic is in the rock, not in the water, that is why.

“A dragon lives in these woods, many see that and do not brave the forest, even if there is this,” he says. It’s true. Many take his living here as a ward against any further excursion. And while it has resulted in his loneliness, it has benefitted the forest. The waterfall is left undisturbed, trees are not cut, animals are not hunted to their breaking point.

But dragons are.

Adannar pushes such thoughts from his mind. This is a good thing, he wants her to be happy seeing this, not morose, and he certainly does not want to dwell on such thoughts. This is a joyous place.

He joins her by the water’s edge. It is an unseasonably warm day, even if they are rapidly approaching spring. The water is beautiful and he knows it is cool. Perhaps it is his draconic blood that makes him run warm, but he longs for a swim.

Sudden nudity for swimming, however, is most likely improper, and he does not wish to make Serahlin any more uncomfortable than she has been.

“I’m beginning to wonder if the dragon is the menace my people has made it out to be,” she confesses and his heart stops.

“Truly?” She nods, then rises from the bank. She walks along the water’s edge, watching colorful fish below the surface.

“It does not bother you, and we are quite deep within the forest now. This waterfall is magical, surely something a dragon would like to protect – yet nothing. I have not been menaced. Only early in the morning do I hear what could be the thunderous sound of wings in the air.”

And Adannar thought she could not surprise him any further. Perhaps…eventually…. What a hope! He offers his arm to her and she takes it. As they walk, he tells her about the area. The waterfall and pool feed into the river down here, but the river continues up beyond the ledge where the water comes crashing down. This waterfall is one of many in a series, it just happens to be the largest. At the top of the mountains are hot springs, surrounded by snow.

“My curiosity is too much, I must know – is there a hidden cave behind the waterfall?” She asks, and he looks down at her. She’s all flushed and smiling, embarrassed but also full of humor.

“Nothing but smooth rock, what a thing to ask,” he answers.

She laughs, leaning into him, “All the adventure stories I used to read all seemed to have secret caves behind the waterfalls. Perhaps a cove filled with treasure, or a hollow where lovers would meet.”

He cocks his head to the side, smiling as he speaks, “There is nothing behind the waterfall, but there is a passage in the side of the pool – it leads to an underground river.” She turns to him, bright faced and excited.

“Really?”

“Really!” He doesn’t mention that said underground river leads to a specific lone mountain in the foothills of the range, but she does not need to know yet. He laughs and nods instead, patting her hand on his arm. “Bioluminescent creatures call that river home, it’s beautiful.”

Her replying expression is equal parts wonder and incredulousness.

**

“How do you know all this?” Serahlin asks. He is a bounty of information and knowledge, the kind only few of her tutors had been. And even then, he seems to know more than a few of them.

“I have lived out here for a long time. There is a great deal to do when you are alone,” he says but his voice wavers slightly and something tickles the back of her neck. Just as it does when someone is telling a lie. Her brow furrows and she stops walking, retracting her hand from his arm.

“What aren’t you telling me?” She asks softly, giving him a chance because she wants to believe anything but the worst. But old fears die hard and she feels like there are a thousand eyes on her, just as it was at the palace. Everyone had watched, forced her to play in sick games that only hurt people.

He stops and turns to her, brow pulled together in concern, “Serahlin, I –

She doesn’t let him finish, “You are not from my land, are you?” She asks softly. He shakes his head and she drops his hand.

“And what? Are you from there? Did they send you? Are you just waiting to take me back just when I grow to trust you?” She accuses, getting ready to run. Dammit she knew this was too good to be true, she should never have trusted him she should –

“I was a spirit,” he says and everything stops. Her heart, her mind, her body – everything. His shoulders droop and he drops his head so that she can’t see his face. People who used to be spirits are rare, they only form from powerful emotions and where magic has pooled. It’s not unheard of, but she has only met one other former spirit – her non-Queen mother.

He looks out to the waterfall, gesturing to it dejected, “I formed here, from the joy experienced by the animals and any passerby at seeing this place. I wandered the area as a spirit for hundreds of years before forming my body. I am not from your land, I’m not from another either, however. I am from here, and I wanted to share that with you.”

Serahlin cannot speak. How horrible of her! She can’t…she assumed the worst immediately, ready to run, and here he was simply trying to share this with her. Her heart falls as he turns away from her. She does not feel like he is lying and…it would make sense. She has heard that former spirits like to remain close to where they originated. Memae remained close to the capital, even though it meant her eventual demise, but whether that was because of her origination or her daughters, Serahlin doesn’t know.

She steps forward. Tentatively taking Adannar’s hand, she joins him in looking down at the shimmering water. The fish are a riot of moving rainbows beneath the surface, reflecting light and color.

“I am sorry, I should not have assumed…you have been so good to me, I owed you the benefit of the doubt.”

Adannar looks down at her. His eyes look suddenly very old and the expression in them is inscrutable.

“Thank you. I understand why you are scared, though, political monsters can be some of the most vicious. You are not the first to seek asylum in this forest.”

A silence more awkward and tense than any of their previous stretches before them. She wants to apologize more but she also wants to let him feel. If she were back home, the proper thing to do would to leave him to his room, allow him to feel however he wished then apologize with a gift. Or food. But she has no gift and no food and they not back home.

So Serahlin tries something else.

“My memae was a spirit. Diligence, she was the head of my mamae’s guard – it’s how they met. The…political monsters killed her and my mamae did not stop them.” It is improper to reveal such intimate details of one’s life, but they are far from home. When he looks down at her, eyes softer, she knows she made the right decision.

“I was Joy.”

She gives him her best smile and reaches up to touch his cheek.