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A hop skip and a jump further along the timeline than the previous pieces.
Dirthamen (mentioned) and Kel are @feynites
Ana is @lycheemilkart
When she first finds the baby, she is at a loss.
It is very much unheard of to find babes abandoned in the wood. Especially ones as young, and quiet, and remarkable as this.
She does not behave quite like the children she has met before; she does not pull at clothing or jewelry, or even the strands of hair peeking out from beneath Selenes hood. There is no screaming or crying, only fear and curiosity and loss pouring out of a body far too small to hold it.
It is harder to see the strings, since the events of the festival so long ago. Selene can not read people as easily as she once could, but even so...Even so, this child is alone and scared and clearly reeling from a trauma she is too small to have experienced.
It only makes sense then, to tear off her hood and wrap the baby before she can freeze with the setting sun. A simple matter to warm her hands and arms as she holds her, rocking the small body back and forth with a soft song until she is calm and close enough to sleep that she can be carried back without drawing too much attention.
A hope, perhaps, that was always in vain.
Ana's eyes go wide, when she re-enters her halls, a swaddled baby asleep in her arms. Selene does not fight it when Ana immediately dismisses the other attendants and ushers her into the room, only whispers at her not to wake the baby with her worry.
“Is this what your retreat was for?” Ana whispers once they are alone in Selenes chambers. “Why wouldn't you tell me?”
“I didn't intend it,” Selene explains. “I went on my retreat because it was necessary. I found the baby on my journey back.”
“You 'found' the baby?”
“Yes.”
Ana gives her the look she always gives her when she thinks she is lying.
“It's the truth.” Selene reiterates.
“So Dirthamen's not the father then?” Ana asks skeptically.
“I suppose its possible, biologically. I don't think he'd procreate with someone who would abandon their child in the woods though. And he never asked for permissions, so if he had, there would certainly be compli-”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
Selene lets out a breath.
“We are not.....” She shifts her arms before remembering the baby lying in them and immediately abandons the gesture she had been about to make. “We're not a 'we'.”
“That's a lie.”
“Could we focus, perhaps, on the baby instead of my inactive romantic life?”
“Mm...”Ana relents, eyes drifting back down to the sleeping infant. “Do you know whose she is?”
“Mine,” Selene answers plainly.
Bright green eyes look up at her incredulously from their freckled home. “You're sure?”
Selene nods. Even if she did not birth the child...she has become attached. Too attached to give her to another, who might simply leave her again in the woods.
No, with her is surely the safest place she can offer.
Selene sends Ana off to fetch Des'din, who will likely be upset if any other member of their family learns of the newest addition before he does.
In the meantime, Selene sends for food and drink from the kitchens. Soft, easy to swallow foods and an assortment of milks and juices.
...Perhaps she should look into proper childcare procedures soon.
Selene is trying to dress the baby in one of her old cowls and losing a debate about putting food into small mouths rather than a tiny scrunched up fist, when Des'din slams open the doors to her bedchamber.
“IT'S TRUE!” He squeals as soon as he spots them. Before Selene can register her other half's presence, he has snatched up the baby, and is swinging her in a wide circle over his head. “Oh, you are just the sweetest, cutest, most precious thing, aren't you?! Yes you are, yes you are!”
“She is not a pet,” Selene sighs, “Please be careful.”
“Of course I'll be careful with my daughter,” He scoffs, moving smoothly into a rather impressive one armed carry while he waves dismissively with the other. He grins back down at the baby “Look, she's got my eyes!”
“No, she doesn't.”
“Well, she's got the same gleam. Family resemblance and all that.”
Selene raises an eyebrow at Des, but otherwise lets his comment slide as she holds out her arms. “Please give me back my daughter.”
“You've had her all day, she deserves to spend time with her father.”
“You're not her father,” Selene frowns.
Des lets out a hurt gasp, one hand moving to cover the babies ears. “Excuse me? We are each others other halves, Selene! If you are her mother, then of course I'm her father! Who else could it be?”
“She...well, she doesn't have one yet-”
“Good, I volunteer for the position. Any other takers? No? Lovely,” He carefully raises the baby, who looks rather lost and swept up in the sudden commotion, up to his eye level and rubs his nose gently against hers. “Hello Da'Des, I'm your father. Can you say 'Papae'? 'Papae'?”
“Her name is not Da'Des, and you are not her father,” Selene gripes as she pulls the baby back into her own arms. It is strangely reassuring to have her back, as something inside her settles down that she hadn't even realized had become anxious.
Perhaps she should have taken longer on her retreat after all.
Des'din pouts, arms crossing over his chest like a petulant child. “She's Dirthamens then? Because he's still technically mine, so if you two went and had a baby-”
“She is not Dirthamen's, why does everyone keep asking-” Selene takes a deep breath before her temper can get out and potentially scare a baby that right now needs more than anything, someone to keep her safe. “Dirthamen and I did not procreate. We had a single night together, and occasionally he agrees to accompany me to social events. That's all.”
“And also you're in love with him.”
Selene lets out a long groan “I'm not-he's not-...look, it's complicated and it's just...he's safer-happier, really, without having to deal with the problems a relationship with me would entail.”
“You can't lie to me about your bonds you know?” Des tsks with a disappointed look in his eye. “And you can't just will this away by going to hide in the woods or a cave or whatever section of the dreaming you've been hiding in these last few months. I may not know the details of whatever happened between you two, but you fucked up.”
“Language,” Selene insists, turning the baby away from Des. “And I didn't-”
“You did,” Des asserts. “Whatever else may have happened, you two formed a bond and the instant you realized it, you got scared and abandoned him. Where do you think the first place he went to look for you was? With me. So yeah, you fudged the heck up, Selene.”
Selene opens her mouth to argue, but stops before she speaks. There are two dark eyes looking up at her expectantly while she sucks on her knuckles, currently gripped around the edge of a golden coin.
“I think you're missing a piece of your outfit, Des,” She says instead, carefully plying the object away from tiny fingers.
He blinks down at the shining coin, patting himself down until he finds the empty space.
“Oh good, she's clever and sneaky,” He hums, hooking it back onto the appropriate chain. “You two will get along wonderfully.”
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Dirthamen, Sairal/Deceit, Fear, and the usual Evanuris are based on @feynites writing.
Ana is @lycheemilkarts
TW for Violence, Dissociation mention, and Mild Body Horror (Leg and Eyes)
Da'Selene's Arlathan holdings are her least favorite place to stay. She understands the necessity of them, and the 'necessity' of it is precisely what is reflected in the decor. The walls are dark and bare, tall thin windows lining them and allowing for adequate light throughout the day, veilfire torches spaced precisely along the length of the hallways to allow for lighting at night.
There are no statues or portraits, save for those required to show her respects to visiting family members. Des'din complains often of the cold permeating from spirits of silence, contemplation, and occasional sloth that have settled into nooks and crannies of the building.
Selene has repeatedly given her permissions to add any spare pieces he thinks would be appropriate to her holdings, but Des'din, for all his hoards and impending threats of limited storage space, is loathe to give any up.
It is not, often, a problem. Selene spends as little time in Arlathan as she can manage, given her fathers Peacekeepers and mothers spies prominence in the area. Her freedoms are limited compared to those in her own territories, and the longer she remains, the tighter the leash around her throat tends to feel.
But it is not so bad, waking up with the warmth of her lover in bed beside her, head settled in the crook of her neck with his wings curled up around her.
It is the first day of the festival, though they have been here nearly a week already making preparations for the event and ensuring the labyrinth will be up to the task of holding Andruil for her hunt. It has been an arduous process, full of mishaps and queries and double edged words. Much of yesterday had been spent avoiding June, who is still hounding her for building materials for his latest project. She supposes he was attempting to get her to make a rushed agreement in the middle of the chaos, but Des'din had intervened with a request for an additional wing to his own holdings.
She will have to thank him for the diversion when they inevitably meet sometime today.
She will have to meet with all of her family today, she dreads.
It is the first time she will be publicly showing off Dirthamen and Sairal, and Fear has been all but tranquilized due to their own trepidation about the event. A regretful measure, but after panic had nearly suffocated the three when Selene first informed them of the situation, a necessary one.
Settling Dirthamen down and assuring him of his safety had still taken up a significant portion of time, which she hopes her event coordinators were able to make up for.
“You are up early,” Dirthamen murmurs into her neck, body shifting slightly as he wakes. Selene presses a gentle kiss to his forehead and pulls him tighter to her in silent apology for waking him with her fretting.
“I am just excited to see you in the gown I had made,” She says, only half-lying.
He shifts again, pulling his wings back into himself and scooting up the bed to lie eye-to-eye with her.
“You made me a gown?”
“Well, I had it made. I didn't personally make it, but I had a hand in the design and material choice. I think it will suit you wonderfully,” she strokes a hand gently down the bare skin of his back “There is a dark feathered cloak attachment, so if your wings make a sudden appearance in all the excitement, you may claim they are a part of your outfit, and small gold detailing will keep your necklace from looking out of place.”
“That sounds very practical.”
Selene frowns slightly. “You're right. It's not a very romantic gift is it? I'm...not great, at courting gifts. I only gave Ana the one when we were together, and she never uses it. Is there something in particular you would like? Anything it is within my power to give is yours. You need only ask.”
Dirthamens eyes dart low, leg bending slightly beneath the sheets as he asks. “I would like to see my brother again.”
“Anything but that,” Selene groans. “He hurt you, Dirthamen. You understand that, yes?”
“Yes,” he agrees. “But I do not want him to feel as though he has been abandoned. I know he would not approve of our relationship, but I...have been a poor brother, and I would like to make amends.”
“You have been a far better brother than any I have ever known,” Selene asserts. “And you do not owe him a damn thing. If it were up to me he would rot in his cell for what he has done to you, left to die of the isolation he tried to force upon you and....”She trails off at the nervous look in Dirthamens eyes and lets out a soft sigh, linking her fingers through his. “Your brother is under Des'dins laws, not my own. If you want to see Falon'din, you will have to ask my other half. I am sorry. I can not grant you rights to visit him.”
“Would you help me convince Des'din to allow it?”
Selene scrunches up her face. “I...will try not to speak out against it?”
Selene feels her stomach drop out as her lovers face falls in disappointment, and tries feebly to explain herself; that it is unsafe, that it could undo so much of what he has built for himself and accomplished here, that if Falon'din tries to strike out at him again, there is a real chance either Selene or Des'din will punish him on the spot impulsively, but none of her reasons seems to land as guilt pervades her and Dirthamens mood continues to sink.
Which of course is when Ana knocks on the door to Selenes chambers.
“Time to start getting ready!” She announces, swinging the thick quartz doors open. “Big day today you...two....” She pauses, glancing between the two and reading the clearly not-so-lovey-dovey emotions filling the room.
“Right...” She nods, slowly backing out of the room again. “You two work this out, and I’ll meet you downstairs.”
Selene bites down on her bottom lip, half hoping Ana might have been able to get her out of this, turning back to Dirthamen as the doors seal shut once more.
“I...I didn't mean to upset you,” She finally says. “I'm sorry. It's not-I just can't give you that, and I can not, in good conscience, permit it.”
“He is my brother.”
“Who caused you so much pain you simultaneously split and re-merged into three separate aspects of yourself!”
“Why does your family mean more than mine?” he snaps. His hand immediately shoots up to cover his mouth, and he pushes himself several spaces back and away from her in terror, as though expecting her to kill him on the spot. As though she might strike out at him in rage and pride.
As though she could ever, ever be capable of hurting him that way.
It burns through her chest like a newly forged sword, plunged and twisting through her heart. That he would still think her capable of doing something like that to him. That he still views her like...
Like the rest of her family.
Like the others, that would use and toss away their bed partners or servants, who have done terrible, horrific things to people that may or may not have deserved it. Who believe it is their right to do such, that they are above common decency.
Who believe they are truly gods.
The burn vanishes, leaving her feeling cold and empty at the truth of this. At what she had thought was a relationship, a real relationship and a true connection between them.
She was a fool.
She was a fool to think this could be different; could be anything other than sex and conversations, that their difference in status was not so great that he would always fear her. That she could...could just quiet Fear down and think that would solve any issue at all.
She was a fool.
Swallowing her words (any words, she can't trust herself, if he can't trust her how could she possibly), she stands from the bed and begins silently getting dressed for the festival. She silently pulls his gown from her closet, carefully laying it out on the bed for him before turning around and putting on her own.
“What did you give to Ana?” Dirthamen finally asks, so soft she nearly misses it.
“...Armor” Selene admits, her back still to him. “I had armor crafted for her, made from my own scales. I don't know that she has ever worn it but...perhaps it was just for my own peace of mind. Something to keep her protected, if she needed it. Whether she chose to leave, or to stay. Things make easier gifts. Des'din...Desire has always liked 'things'. Things do not disappoint the way that people can, he claims. So perhaps it seemed more prudent to stick to things. Safer.”
She twirls her finger, listening as the line of clasps up the side of her gown click together.
“I am sorry I could not give you what you asked of me. I am more sorry I could not make you feel safe to be near me. I will ensure Fear is roused for the festival, and meet you downstairs.”
She steps out without another word, doors closing behind her. She doesn't trust herself to turn around, doesn't trust that she wouldn't cry or scream or beg for his understanding. The pain sits in her chest as her hair is pinned and arranged, as her various attendants and valets lay jewelry over her shoulders and legs and fret over make up, dusting starlight over her eyelids and cheek bones until she is ready to meet even the strictest requirements of her families appearance.
Ana looks at her curiously when she enters the lower levels alone, inquiring about Dirthamens whereabouts.
“He will be down shortly,” Selene assumes. “Please make sure Fear is woken, and keep an eye on the three of them. I am going ahead to meet with Des'din and his contingent.”
“Did something happen?”
“Nothing I shouldn't have seen coming,” Selene evades, beginning her stride before Ana can continue her line of questioning.
Perhaps if she can only keep moving, Selene hopes, she might even be able to outrun the sting settling inside of her.
–
Des'din welcomes Selenes presence, eagerly linking his arm through hers as he parades through the town (taking the longest possible route, she notes), on the way to his own section of the festivities.
“Where is your harem?” he jokes. “Did you wear the poor dears out last night?”
Selene bites down on her bottom lip and stares out ahead of them silently in response. Des'dins demeanor changes as he realizes he must have hit a sour note and quietly plies her for more information.
“I do not want to talk about it,” Selene whispers, pain beginning to bloom again at the memory of Dirthamen moving away from her in fear in her bed.
Their bed.
...her bed.
Her other half makes a soft humming noise in affirmation, continuing their walk up to his balcony. He scoots over in the throne he had carved to sit in for the events, and pats for Selene to join him, dismissing most of his envoy for an illusion of privacy.
“What happened?” Des inquires.
“I...” Selene starts, ending her own sentence as a small group arrives to sit around her own balcony beside Des'dins. Ana has arrived, along with Din'durgen, Melanadahl, Sairal, Dirthamen, and the rest of her usual escorts for these events.
Des'din lets out a low whistle at the sight of Dirthamen in the gown Selene had crafted for him. He is stunning, black clothes cascading down from a high collar, draped in a way that accentuates his height and vanishes towards the bottom of him into a swirling mass of darkness. His hair has been left long, nearly touching the floor today, and decorated with golden beads throughout, making an illusion not unlike stars peeking out through an inky black sky.
He is breath taking, and she wishes she could reach out and kiss him and pull him close and remind him of her love for him in front of the whole city.
But she does not wish to make him any more afraid than he is already. If he does not trust her not to hurt him, then he does not trust her. She can't force the situation, can't demand his trust and his love and his heart. All she can do, the best thing she can do right now, she decides, is give him space. If her presence causes him tension and worry, then in order to ensure he is comfortable, as she promised him, she will simply...keep her distance.
It is for the best.
The first day of the festival passes her in a dull haze.
She plays her part in the opening ceremonies, and chats with Sylaise, grateful for once for her youngest sisters talent and taste for dominating conversations. Then there is food and drink, and Selene pointedly tries to avoid looking at Dirthamen for too long as she consumes glass after glass and is dragged across the dance floor by her other half, who is at least trying his best to console her over the break up.
Is it a break up?
Has she broken up with Dirthamen then?
Da'Selene is unsure, but it certainly feels that way. It certainly feels as though she will never get to hold him again, will never be able to laugh beside him or ask him a question without wondering if he is wondering that she might be about to strike or kill him. That certainly doesn't seem like the sort of thing you should have to fear from your partner, she thinks.
The sun disappears while she is spinning with Des and contemplating if perhaps all of the people she loves might secretly fear her, and how terrifying and isolating that thought is.
Ana checks in at some point, and Selene mumbles out something about spending the night in her other half's holdings, following Des'din to their elaborate mansion, decorated in glistening gold accents and flames in every color burning along the normally white walls and turning the rooms into a veritable celebration of color and life as his people cheer and sing and press against one another in ways that only make her miss Dirthamen more.
When she wakes, she is wrapped around her other half and her head feels as though she is trying to burst out of her body through it.
Her gown is half undone, hair spilled out from its pins and Des'dins hands are pressed against her back while he snores into the pile of pillows surrounding them.
Selene groans, pulling her arm out from beneath him as it tingles in a very unpleasant sort of way, and quickly rushes through one of her other half's eluvians, through the crossroads, and back into her own holdings.
The few guards scattered around the entrance give her disheveled appearance a strange look, but no one bothers to ask what might have happened.
Probably too scared to, she realizes bitterly.
She passes Sairal in the halls on her way to change into her outfit for todays events. They call out for her, but she moves more quickly, sealing and locking her chamber doors behind her with a heavy breath; she is already running behind and feeling unwell. No need to add to that with a reminder of her argument with Dirthamen the day before.
Todays outfit is slightly plainer than the first days, only basic enchantments on it as she grabs it and runs back to the room so that her hair and makeup can be reapplied. Her people at least seem delighted at the chance to do this two days in a row, braiding the bulk of her hair up towards the base of her skull with a few tasteful curls hanging out of the otherwise precise pattern.
It isn't until she is seated in her own balcony that she realizes she forgot to bathe, and is still carrying the distinct smell of Des'dins parties.
Wonderful, she thinks sarcastically as Dirthamen seats himself beside her, Ana and Sairal on her other side, and Melanadahl on the other side of him.
Dirthamen fidgets awkwardly, in an outfit more similar in cut to his usual robes but still wearing the feathered cloak from the day before over top of it. His hair is shorter and his waist is thinner, but his hips are a bit wider than usual, she notes.
“Did you spend the night at Des'dins?” He finally asks, and she watches the notes of realization light up around him as he places the smell on her.
“I did,” She admits, feeling guilty for a reason she can't quite place. “It has been a long time since I spent a night with my other half. It was a good sleep.”
Dirthamen nods with a thick swallow, and does not ask anymore of her for the day.
Once her fathers people complete the final performance of the night, she excuses herself back to her rooms and baths without another word, quickly submerging her whole body beneath the warm water, filling it with more of her favored scents than usual as she lets them soak into herself.
She feels strange.
She spent the night with her other half, something that has always, in the past, helped her find her balance again. Always allowed her to center herself and re-evaluate her priorities. But instead she feels...adrift. As though she has made the wrong move in a game she doesn't see or understand, and has left her stranded and alone somewhere that she does not know. She feels more disconnected from her body than she has in some time, and wishes that she could simply drift away from it for a while. Could simplify herself and her relationships down to core concepts again.
But someone is knocking on her doors, and as always, her duties must come first.
–
She is up late helping her architects make final adjustments to the labyrinth, and begins her day already wishing she could crawl back into her bed.
It is not helped by her mothers messenger handing her a letter just to remind her of the afternoons events, and her part in them. Selene does not know if she can take much more of these events; discovering that the people around her could simply be lying, could all be harboring an innate fear of her because of a position she never asked for, and now to make a display of her labyrinth for the sake of showing off her sisters abilities in front of a crowd...
At least she will not have to kill anyone to do it, she consoles herself.
Still, she is nervous, looking over where the labyrinth has been set up from her floating balcony. Ghilan'nain is speaking with one of the workers Selene has designated to coordinate with her, as Ghilan'nain is supplying the creature Andruil is to track and hunt through the maze.
A cage is opened, and a small creature wanders out, hidden beneath a cloak as it radiates nerves and terror.
The poor thing, Selene thinks.
She does not have time to dwell on her thoughts, as Andruil finally steps out. A loud cheer can be heard coming from her side of the viewing area, and the rest of the people that have gathered to watch the events join in as soon as they realize what is happening. Her sister waves to the crowd, signaling for them to cheer even louder as she waves her spear up above her head, the newly polished and sharpened tip gleaming in the light of the sun.
Andruil steps into the labyrinth, and the cloak falls away from her prey.
Selene takes a sharp inhale of breath as she recognizes the older elf. Artifice; one of the generals she had fought beside in the wars so long ago. Back when they were still fighting to form the empire, to save the people from mad keepers. This person is a hero, has personally saved Da'Selene and Des'dins lives on the battlefield back when they were still Devotion and Desire.
“No.” She declares, standing straight up.
Ana reaches forward, hand wrapped around Selenes wrist just enough to make her hesitate. But there is no time to hesitate; Artifice is slow, and Andruil is already making her way past the simpler traps to try and catch them.
“If things go downhill,” Selene instructs. “Take Dirthamen with you.”
Ana hesitates for only a second, before nodding solemnly and stepping back.
Selene lets her own wings flutter out behind her, diving straight down towards her labyrinth from her floating balcony and landing directly in front of her sister.
“Andruil,” She says. “This is wrong.”
Her sister is thrown off by her presence enough that Artifice is able to get out the huntresses line of sight. Andruil gives a disapproving tsk, and tries to push Selene out of the way.
Selene does not budge.
Becoming more and more irritated by the moment, Andruil tries to push past once more, but Selene flares her wings out in full spread, taking up the full space available to them.
“Move.” Andruil commands.
“No.”
“This isn't your show, dear sister,” Andruil warns. “The hunt is my domain, and you are the interloper here.”
“I am not going to let you slaughter a friend in one of my own labyrinths,” Selene explains. “And I will do whatever is necessary to keep that from happening.”
Andruil takes a step back, staring her elder sister down for a moment before using her spear to jump the wall beside them, disappearing deeper into the maze.
Selene takes off.
Not after Andruil, but for Artifice. It will be simpler to get Artifice out of the labyrinth, than to keep Andruil away from them inside it.
It doesn't take long to find them at least, and Selene quickly flies them up and out of the labyrinth, placing them in her own balcony and staring back down at Andruil, who is still wandering her walls in search of a prey that is no longer a part of her game.
Mother is glowering at her from across the designated space, but Selene merely gives her a defiant stare back.
She is drawing her line in the sand, and she will not budge.
Before long, Andruil falls into one of many traps within the labyrinth. One specifically designed to slow her down, and Selene feels another familiar pang of guilt as she watches Andruil struggle against the growing vines dragging her down.
It is a bad idea.
But....
Selene soars back down to the labyrinth and offers a hand to her sister.
“The more you struggle, the more it will grow,” Selene tells her. “Let me help you.”
“What did you do with my prey?” Andruil asks, staring at the outstretched hand.
“I freed them,” Selene admits. “This was a rigged hunt, Andruil. There was no honor in it.”
“If you have stolen my prey, dear sister,” Andruil growls. “Then you will replace it.”
The huntress shoots out of the vine, spear aimed directly at Selenes throat. She has to twist back painfully to avoid the strike, turning back to an upright position on the other side of her sister.
“I don't want to fight you,” Selene attempts.
“Then this will be an easy victory!” Roars Andruil, who barrels towards Selene once more, eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar red tint. She manages to graze Selenes shoulder this time, before she can spin out of the way.
Selene stares at her sister carefully, seeing unfamiliar threads of power woven into her. Whatever it is feels...unnatural, and seems to be increasing Andruils usual power several times over.
For the first time in a long time, Selene is concerned she could actually die in a fight.
Her instincts kick in, and when Andruil switches to the bow and looses an arrow towards her, Selene catches it in one hand and begins her shift; it has been centuries since she has taken this form, but it is her best chance at pacifying Andruil.
Her range of vision decreases, but what she can make out is sharper, brighter and more vivid, and she can pick up each detail in her surroundings. Her clothes burst off of her as her body stretches, long and cylindrical and covered in white scales. Horns curl out of her skull and her wings become more articulated; less like her bird form, and more appropriate for the size of the dragon shape she's taken on.
Andruil is momentarily stunned, and Selene takes advantage of the moment to breathe out a long stream of purple flames from her mouth, filling the hall she had been standing in only a moment ago. The vines that had been holding Andruil turn to ash, while the woman perches on top of the wall, the exposed skin on her neck smelling distinctly burnt.
“Fine,” Andruil snarls. “I can kill you just as well as a beast.”
Selene lets out an ear splitting cry, and goes racing up the wall and towards the huntress before she can shoot another arrow towards her. Andruil goes tumbling off her perch, rolling as she hits the ground and letting out a curse as Selene follows along after.
She stumbles through the tight corners; unused to this form and less graceful than she once was, her legs and claws trying to find purchase in the soft stone used to build the maze. Like trying to run on ice without proper protections. She wonders, briefly, why she hasn't taken this form in so long. If she had more practice with it...
Andruil makes a wrong turn, hitting a looping mechanism and coming out the other end towards the snarling white dragon, who lets out another roar of flames towards the huntress.
The huntress...yes, that's what's happening. She is hunting the huntress, that's her prey, that is her target. That is how she will win this battle, and the war.
Kill the red one, and win the war.
She snarls and snaps, following through the twists and turns and finally manages to snag the red ones ankle. She pulls, as roughly as she can, ignoring the scream of pain as the bone snaps in her jaws with the force of it. The leg is in her mouth now, to just over the knee, and so she bites. Remove the legs, make it hard to run, get an easier, cleaner kill. The red one screams in pain again, calls a name, calls...her name?
Does she have a name?
Oh.
Oh.
Oh, what has she done.
In the span of a moment, she remembers herself. That she is Selene, and this is her sister. Her sister who she helped raise, who she used to play with and dance with and sing to. Who used to stay up late at the camp fire and ask for story after story, and beg to fly around on her back when mother and father weren't looking.
Her sister.
Oh, Andruil.
I'm so sorry.
In the span of the next moment, Selenes whole world goes dark, as an arrow is thrust into each of her eyes. She lets out a howling screech of pain, and hears an identical one coming from Des'dins floating balcony. Andruil scrambles back and out of Selenes jaw, and she thinks she hears her begin to ready another arrow but another voice rings out. One who has always had the authority to stop their spats.
Mother.
Mythal.
“That is ENOUGH.”
And that is all it takes. The labyrinth is disassembled in minutes, as Selene shrinks back down to her elven form. Her eyes are still gone, only empty sockets now as she feels a cloak laid over top of her. Someone picks her up and carries her off, and that is all she can tell before her pain and exhaustion overtakes her.
By the time she wakes again, the festival has ended.
Des'din is sitting beside her, in the healing cot of her holdings. She can't see him, but she can feel him. Can feel the rings on his fingers and his presence, just the same.
“You're awake,” he mutters. “You selfish prick.”
“I'm sorry.”
“You should be.”
“I wasn't thinking.”
“A trait we can't both have, or we really will end up dead.”
“Are you alright?”
“No, not really. My other half decided to try and get herself killed over a traitor and didn't even warn me first.”
“No, that was Artifice-”
“I know who it was,” Des'din snaps uncharacteristically. “Why do you think they were in that labyrinth to begin with? Artifice was found to be a major player in the rebellion that's been growing in Andruils lands. Using their connections to harbor people meant to be executed or sacrificed, moving people in the camps out and towards nameless lands-”
“Always knew I liked them,” Selene murmurs.
“Well then I have some shit news for you, because father had them killed the moment your little fight with Andruil ended! You didn't accomplish anything other than convincing mother you'll do whatever you can to piss her off!”
Selene is silent for several moments.
“How is Dirthamen?”
Des'din lets out a sigh. “He's fine, if you choose to ignore the fact that he's been twisting himself into knots worrying about you.”
Selene nods slightly, though she's less sure of her success with the motion without being able to actually see anything around her.
“And Andruil?”
“...She hasn't woken up yet. She's gone into shock from the loss of her leg. They're making her new ones to choose from once she finally does wake up, but something in her system is interfering with traditional healing methods. It took a lot of blood magic just to stabilize her.”
“There was something off about her...”
“I don't care!” Des'din proclaims, and she can feel him drop her hand, so she assumes he has thrown his own up into the air despite her inability to actually see the motion. “I don't care if Andruil had walked into that maze and said 'gee I think I'm gonna slaughter a thousand of the people today, just for kicks'! You don't throw yourself in front of her and have a sudden death match when your death will not affect only you! I was right there! If you had died with me that close- you'd have taken me with you!”
“I'm sorry.” She repeats.
Des'din lets out a loud dramatic huff and takes her hand back into his own. “Good! Be sorry for a little while! You deserve it!”
Selene giggles. She doesn't mean to; its a very serious concern and Des'din is very genuinely mad at her, but it's so similar to a childs temper tantrum that she just can't help it.
The air in the room relaxes a little when she does, at least.
Until Ghilan'nain comes storming into the room.
“If you ever try to kill my wife again,” she snarls, tossing some sort of object at Selenes face “I will take apart everyone and everything you love piece by piece, until the whole empire is more familiar with their insides, than their outsides!”
From the sound of stomping moving farther away from her room, Selene assumes Ghilan'nain has taken her leave after only those few words. She reaches curiously for the item that was thrown at her, and feels cold as she recognizes the texture; Dirthamen's chain. The one meant to keep his power hidden, so that none of the others will see him as a threat.
Oh no.
“Get me a reconstructor,” Selene orders. “I need a new pair of eyes, and I need you to go find Dirthamen, right now.”
“You just woke up, you're not ready-”
“It doesn't matter,” She says, pushing the chain into Des'dins hand. “Go find him, before someone else does.”
“Fine, I’ll find Dirthamen, but you need to let your body adjust before you add a new set of eyes. You know that.”
“Andruil and I both screwed up with the fight,” Selene explains. “Mother is going to determine who the winner is, and whose side she is going to take, based on who recovers first. That has to be me, or Dirthamen will be killed.”
“But-”
“Go!”
Des'din lets out a frustrated puff of air, but a few moments later and he is gone. Another minute, and a reconstructor comes in with a selection of replacements for her to choose from.
It is never a pleasant process, to have a piece of yourself stolen so suddenly.
But it is less painful to replace an eye, she thinks, than a heart.
