#haduwig

              Brayen blanches, nervously glancing back to where Akeelah had disappeared back down the terrifyingly narrow corridor they had come down.  She told him he would be sharing the common hall her and her own children would use, as well as many of the children of other leaders.  He can also hear her chuckling as she leaves, low and hissing like a snake.

              “Pardon me?” he says, and the Tundra in front of him stomps her foot and bares her teeth.  Brayen tries not to stare at the metal implants turning her canines into hooks.

              “I said that’s bullshit,” she says.  The air is silent and still as Brayen gapes.  He doesn’t know what to say.  She just doesn’t believe him.  How could he make her believe him?

              “I dunno Morbus,” a pretty Wildclaw dressed like royalty says, glittering amethyst eyes giving him a once over.  Brayen feels his cheeks warm, but he says nothing.

              “He’s certainly pretty enough.”

              “Windsinger nods to that,” says a white Fae.  Morbus shakes her head again, staring Brayen down once again.  Though he almost doubles her height, Brayen feels tiny under her gaze.

              “There’s no way!  No way Morrigan would send one of her kids to live in a clan that houses more than one Shade touched monstrosity,” she says, with a job towards a green-winged Tundra, who gives a black-toothed grin and a waggle of it’s fingers.

              “Morbus, don’t call your sister a monstrosity, it’s not nice,” says a Mirror, and Brayen knows her name like he knew Akeelah’s. Zeelie, heir to Hellreek spends her spare time scolding her siblings and Brayen can push down the gently crawling fear to find that delightful.

              “I came here of my own choice,” he says softly, and the bickering stops, entirely too many eyes turn towards him and threaten to burn though his skin.

              “Why?” says the white Fae, and another with three eyes chokes on laughter just at his tone.

              “Aquilone, it’s not that bad,” she says, and Aquilone rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.  He lights upon Zeelie’s head, and Brayen again stops being scared to find it delightful.

              “It’s a big clan.  I can learn here, how to better hone my magic,” he says.  There’s another silence, long enough for Brayen to shift uneasily.

              “You do the magic thing too, huh?”  the cloaked Fae says, drumming her claws on her chin, “Well, there are certainly people who can teach you.  Just don’t do something dumb like, I dunno, bring someone back to from the dead.  Azrael doesn’t like that kinda mischief.”

              “Who’s Azrael?” Brayen asks slowly.

              “She’s literally death.  Like the reaper.”  Brayen pales

              “Oh.”

              There’s a red Mirror who hasn’t said a word the whole exchange who just shakes his head as if Brayen is a naïve child.  Brayen’s face heats in embarrassment.  The Wildclaw shakes her head, stepping closer to him.  He thinks he knows where she might be from.  The only other blood of royalty in the room, he thinks, but the rest of them command the same amount of power, of respect.  She places a claw on his shoulder.

              “I’m Fernah,” she says, “I’ll show you to your den.”

              “Thank you,” he says.  She smiles at him, pure white teeth in the dim light.

              “They’re rude, and loud, and annoying, and this place is noisy, and smelly, and terrifying at times, but I promise you, it takes no time at all before Hellreek is home and these guys are family.  Whether you like it or not,” she says with a chuckle. Brayen smiles a little smile, and lets the tension fall from his shoulders.