Only A Plank Between One And Perdition [Alecto]

[Saalyn]

((Okay, this ended up being really long and most of it isn't even necessary in terms of you replying, but I felt it needed to be written anyway. Have I missed my Sa-Sa? Clearly, yesh lol))

It had been a year since the end of the rebellion, a year since Saalyn had been freed from her Sluagh captors. Even with the fighting over, shadow spawn still lingered in the caverns like the memories of her torture at their hands, both refusing to disappear despite her longing for them to leave. The Sluagh’s continued presence meant she had to walk a fine line—Saalyn was the Niceven, or at least she had been. Although she was unsure of whether or not that title and it’s responsibilities still remained, the Unseelie continued to come to her with their troubles, and she did for them what she could while under the scrutinizing gaze of the Sluagh and their King.

Segwyn. He had never trusted her, and Saalyn had never respected him. Those opinions remained the same even thirty years after their initial meeting. Saalyn believed Segwyn to be a sham of a king, placed on his throne by blood alone with no ability to lead whatsoever. The fact that he now refused the Unseelie throne despite his people’s victory only seemed to further prove this belief. Even if Saalyn did loathe the idea of some weak-blooded halfling ruling the Darkling kingdom, the title of monarch rightfully belonged to Segwyn, so why wasn’t he claiming it?

It was a mystery, to be sure. But then one day Saalyn overheard a pair of fae conversing about how Segwyn seemed to be showing a particular interest in a young Nimbus named Tovah. Initially the name held little meaning to the Niceven, but later it struck her as to how she knew it at all—Tovah was the daughter of Alecto, Princess of Havoc, and former Denwyr of the Unseelie Court.

The memory of her last conversation with the Princess of Havoc came to Saalyn’s mind instantly. She remembered how strange it had all seemed, listening to Alecto gloat about the babe she had supposedly sired with the deceased Goblin Blade, Kobaalt, and how she was going to offer the child to Cel as some sort of future warrior for him to command. The talk had sickened Saalyn, striking a bit too close to home considering her own past with her parents and how they had wanted to use her for their own success. She also recalled the overwhelming sense of disappointment she had felt toward Alecto, a fellow Sidhe she had come to respect, possibly even trust to some extent. But all of those feelings had ceased to be by the end of that conversation. In fact, it had been the last time they had spoken to one another one-on-one.

But her strained relationship with Alecto was beyond the point. What Saalyn needed to find out was why Segwyn was showing any interest in the girl, Tovah. The Niceven kept her ears to the ground for several weeks, listening to the chatter in the caverns and the gossip in the taverns. Nothing she heard seemed to be anything all that enlightening. Even the Garlanger servants she sent out came back with nothing worthwhile.

Then the night came when she finally uncovered the truth. Saalyn was out roaming the caverns in her mantle form when she happened to pass a mother and child most likely on their way back home. The adult woman was nothing of interest, a simple Nimbus by the looks of her. But as the pair came closer, Saalyn noticed something about the child—the little boy was a Garlanger. The sight stopped the Niceven dead in her tracks.

Alecto was a Sidhe. Kobaalt had been a Sidhe. Tovah was a Nimbus.

The girl was a Nimbus! How had she not thought of this before? Under such circumstances Kobaalt was obviously not the father, but did that mean—could it mean that Segwyn was the girl’s actual parent? Had Alecto…lain with the king of the shadow spawn? The thought made Saalyn want to vomit. Surely that wasn’t the case. It couldn’t be. But then Saalyn thought back on how the former Denwyr had been oddly accepting and supportive of Segwyn during the conversations between the two kings—enough so to get her thrown into prison for thirty years. There was also the fact that the Princess had spread the lies about Kobaalt being the father when that clearly wasn’t true. Could she have possibly not known that Kobaalt wasn’t the one? But if that were the case, why risk telling everyone in the kingdom that he was the father of the child?

It didn’t make any sense. None of it did. Saalyn’s thoughts circulated for days to no avail. Everything kept pointing to the worst possible scenario—that Alecto was a traitor to the Unseelie and that Segwyn was Tovah’s actual father. If Alecto’s lies about the girl’s parentage weren’t enough to raise suspicion, the fact that the roses in the palace followed Tovah around would be. The roses were directly tied to the Unseelie monarchy. One did not serve as King or Queen without the approval of the floral vines. They had followed and obeyed Cel’s every wish and whim. If Tovah really were the brood of Segwyn that meant that she carried the blood of the former monarch in her veins, however weakened it might be. The roses didn’t act based on blood alone, but it was certainly an aspect of this mystery that couldn’t be ignored.

Despite it all, Saalyn knew there was only one way to find out for sure—she would have to hear the truth of it all from Alecto.

Saalyn could have easily ordered one of her former Garlanger servants to hunt the woman down. Many of the ones who had survived the dealings with the Sluagh remained loyal to her and would do anything she asked of them, but Saalyn couldn't appoint this to anyone else. No, this wasn't just a wrong against her people, this was personal. She would find Alecto herself.

But it wasn't just about wanting to do this alone. If the former Denwyr knew she was coming, that would only give Alecto time to prepare for their meeting. Saalyn had already been lied to once by this woman—Alecto had proved that she could play the game of words nearly as well as she could wield a sword, even if she had left some reason to doubt. Knowing this, Saalyn wasn't about to give her the opportunity to weave together another presentable falsehood. She would get the truth from the Princess of Havoc this time.

And so Saalyn took on the form of her mantel once again. Since her appointment as Niceven before the rebellion, it was the only way that she could move about the caverns unnoticed. It wasn't often that she had to rely upon such stealth—generally if she needed to get something done she would simply send someone else to do it—but right now she could not bother with any interruptions. Not on this day, not at this time. She was single-minded in this task and it would be done, one way or another.

Even disguised as a striped hyena, Saalyn still made sure to keep to the shadows as much as possible as she made her way towards Alecto's chambers. For gathering that particular piece of information she had relied upon her servants. Much had changed over the past three decades, and the thought that Alecto might have changed the location of her living space had been an obvious obstacle in Saalyn's plans, but one that was easily maneuvered around.

There was also the chance that the occupant wouldn't be present when she arrived, but if Saalyn had to wait for Alecto to return then she would wait. In fact, it would likely be favorable to be lying in wait, to catch the other woman off-guard if only to elicit a more honest response—or at least make any lies spoken more easily detectable. Granted, this little game of espionage could potentially earn her a dagger to the chest, but considering all that she had been through with the Sluagh, Saalyn doubted it would be anything she couldn't recover from.

When she did finally arrive at Alecto's door, Saalyn did not hesitate to change back into her natural form and enter without so much as a knock.

“Alecto,” she stated the name with a cold sternness upon walking through the doorway, using the tone in which a parent would reprimand a child almost. Silver eyes scanned the room and upon seeing and hearing nothing, Saalyn moved onto the next. Here she spotted what she had been looking for. Alecto was casually seated in a comfy looking a chair on the opposite side of the room, a fanciful dagger thoughtlessly twirling through her fingers with unnatural ease.

“Alecto,” Saalyn said again in very much the same way as before, though with perhaps a little more edge now that she had the other woman’s fiery gaze confronting her own cool, metallic one. She stood before the former Denwyr in her usual business-like attire—this time a white blouse, black knee-length skirt, tall black leather boots, and a red bow at her neck that was perhaps a little larger than necessary. Despite all of the changes that had taken place in Alanor over the past thirty years, Saalyn was still very much the same.

A brief yet eternal moment of silence stretched between them. The last time they had seen one another was the day Alecto had been thrown in the cell she would call home for the duration of the rebellion. Saalyn had done nothing to stop Cel from doing so. Even if she had been questioning her King’s choices and actions at that particular point in time, Saalyn had also been wary of Alecto’s loyalty. It seemed that that intuitive caution might have been correct all along.

Their silent staring was shattered by Saalyn.

“You lied to me.” These were the first words to leave her mouth, spoken without any explanation because in truth there needn’t be one. Alecto would know. “You lied to my face,” Saalyn practically spat at the Princess of Havoc, not moving an inch from where she stood, “I want an explanation. No, I demand one.”

This time Saalyn did move forward, she walked until she was standing just a few paces away from the woman in the chair, her heeled boots giving a definitive click with her every unhurried step across the stone floor. She gazed down at Alecto with expectant eyes.

“Your daughter, Tovah. You will tell me who truly sired her.”

[Alecto]

Alecto listened to the Hive.

The sounds disturbed her, after years of silence. Despite herself she had grown accustomed to having no company except, in the beginning, an occasional muffled word from Segwyn and, later, the drip of subterranean streams. There had been no light, no smells, no tastes but gray gruel. One would think that after such an eternity of confinement, the Fury would chafe at any sort of wall...but Alecto was a creature of habit, and the reintroduction of every sensation at once had left her senses raw. She retreated to her chambers, when duty allowed. But her rooms were not so well insulated as her cell had been, and the drone of court life filtered down and through, warped and silenced in eerie patterns. It did not help that she had her own voices to contend for her attention, as well.

They all deserve to die.

The dagger struck the door hard, jeweled hilt gleaming at a ninety degree angle to the wood, then creaked as it dislodged itself and went spinning back to her. Alecto snatched it from the air, a snake striking, and twirled it between her fingers. They all deserve to die. They all knew their power came at a price, but misunderstood who would pay it. Cel, in his vanity, in his betrayal. The sycophants who would not make him hear reason. The fae who would obsess over blood, and leave our whole race to die by Drow hands. They have fed their own enemies, and they will see, they will see...

The dagger repeated its endless iteration of flight and return.

Right before their eyes go dark.

A familiar vision of her former King flashed before her, grinning in the whorls and knots of the door in that sickening way he had. Any argument was treason. Any word of caution was sympathy for the enemy. She saw the flick of his wrist, flippant, that had sent her to darkness for thirty years. If you yet remain, I will first cut off your hands. She flung the dagger at the imagined face. Then your smirking lips. Then your haughty eyes. The hilt hit her hand with a thwack, flesh turning pink from the impact. Alecto reclined, realizing she was on the edge of her seat again, and stretched the fingers that had turned white gripping the arm of her chair. It is your fault...your fault the court lies in ruin, leaderless, vulnerable to every attack...

“It is your fault!” The fury stiffened, bristling, before she remembered she was alone. She leaned her head back with a hiss, the dagger continuing to dance between her fingers.

In her outburst, she missed the sounds of entry.

“Alecto.”

Fire-hot eyes lifted, fixed on the figure in the doorway, where previously she had only imagined one. This was the wrong picture, though. Alecto watched the face of Saalyn, the sidhe who she knew and yet could call neither a friend nor an enemy, and tried to remember their last conversation. It was, frankly, hazy. So much had happened since, and yet so little – at least, to her. The fury remembered Segwyn’s explanation that the Princess had been captured and abused. She almost struck him, for that message. The Sluagh deserved to die, as well. None would be spared. Fate was speaking, had spoken.

Alecto inclined her head as Saalyn continued to accuse her, watched the woman as she approached, fascinated by the anger in her voice. Had Saalyn ever been angry? The fury could barely remember...memories were becoming harder and harder to create or retrieve. The emotion of the Niceven seemed strange to her, though. She felt a twinge of something that may have been guilt, then it vanished.

“I sired her,” she growled, becoming suddenly angry at the way this woman spoke her daughter’s name. Her hand sunk the dagger into the arm of her chair. “It seems you are as obsessed with blood as I pretended to be, and come to me with a question you have already answered. Tovah is mine. You need an explanation for how the seed came to be planted? You will not like it – oh, you already know you will not like it, but you will find that is the extent of your knowledge, Niceven.” She stood, slowly – too slowly, for all her rage – and turned to level her gaze on the accusing blue eyes. No...Gray, not blue. Her voice lowered, verging on a hiss.

“You should have told him how foolish he was being. You knew as well as I.”

{I think I missed Alecto, too.}

[Saalyn]

Saalyn watched as Alecto stood, watched as the dagger in her hand was plunged into the arm of the chair in which she had been sitting. Better the wood than her chest, the Niceven thought. It would be less messy that way.

As the Fury spoke, Saalyn met and maintained her harsh, searing gaze. Alecto was taller, and still possessed a hidden build of a warrior even after her time spent in captivity, but Saalyn had never been one to be easily daunted by another’s physical presence. The combination of immortality and the Hand of Restoration could do wonders for one’s confidence in the face of opposition or physical harm. But she doubted that Alecto had any intent of actually hurting her. Saalyn was sure that they had argued enough in the past for the other woman to want to strike her more times than not, but they had always managed to remain civil around one another. Today would be no different, Fates willing.

When Alecto skirted around her question, Saalyn’s eyes thinned in agitation. Again this woman was withholding the truth. Why? To defend that damned halfling King? To defend herself? If Alecto was so sure that Saalyn would not like her answer, why bother with playing these foolish word games any longer?

Instead of an answer, the Niceven soon found herself on the defensive when Alecto turned the accusations around on her, but all Saalyn did was give a short, unamused laugh.

"And you know as well as I that anything I could have said or done would have changed nothing,” she countered, managing to keep her voice surprisingly level despite her own growing anger. “Cel had already made up his mind—about the Sluagh, about you. I understood the situation and did the only thing I could do—I remained silent and chose instead to help my people. You were the foolish one in raising your voice in protest, Alecto. Who could you help while you rotted away in that prison? Not the people of the Court you claim to serve. Not even your own flesh and blood."

And yet the girl had done surprisingly well on her own. Tovah had survived the rebellion relatively unscathed at least, which was more than many could say. Saalyn hadn’t bothered with keeping up with the girl, but she did know that Tovah had worked in the palace as a servant during that time. It was obvious that she possessed at least some of her mother’s incredible strength, even if her Sidhe blood had been tainted by some lesser fae.

Speaking of the other half of the girl’s parentage, Saalyn needed to get them back on topic and did so by backtracking to the words Alecto had spoken before.

“But what’s done is done. I see no point in wasting time on past events that cannot be changed. Instead I wish to look to the future, to rebuilding,” Saalyn started, back straight in perfect posture, her persona slipping back into that of the ideal politician. “You see I am not so obsessed with blood as I am the truth, Princess. The days to come will be undoubtedly challenging for our Court and we will need the dedication of every loyal citizen to regain our former glory.”

Here Saalyn paused long enough to be certain that the Fury had caught the full intent of her words before she continued. Speaking straightforwardly, she stared directly up into Alecto’s eyes as a bit of her personal resentment unintentionally slipped back into her tone.

“Thirty years ago you looked me in the eye and told me that Kobaalt was the father of your child,” the Niceven began, chin inclining ever so subtly, “I could not put my finger on it then, but I believed that you were withholding some portion of the truth of that story from me. Now I know that to be true.”

Again Saalyn paused, this time daring to take a step closer to the Fury. Her expression was steely, detached, but then something changed. It started with a tiny flickering of desperation in her silver eyes and ended with a small, sad frown pulling on the corners of her lips. For most it would have been a subtle change in appearance, but for someone like Saalyn it was monumental.

Her voice possessed the slightest quiver when she finally said what she both longed, and at the same time never wanted, to know.

“Please tell me that Segwyn isn’t the father of your child, Alecto.”

[Alecto]

Alecto wanted to laugh, incredulous that Saalyn would make excuses. Stayed silent and helped? She wanted to remind this woman that prevention is a better cure – that she would not have been captured and forced to work for the enemy if an enemy had never been made. But her justifications were nothing compared to her blindness.

“Rebuilding? Do you not understand? Our loyal citizens will not be enough. The Sluagh beat us, and they are lower than Garlanger.” The rumble of her voice grew slowly, an approaching storm, “Now they roam the mists, our only tie to them has been severed, and we may also have the Drow to contend with. We have no real warriors! I protested because I could not conscionably thrust a knife into the Unseelie’s chances for survival...for Tovah’s survival...” She shook her head, closing her eyes against the vision of her daughter, the vision of the Court that Segwyn had predicted. Blood, and death. How would the Faerie react, when confronted with real mortality?

But Saalyn did not seem worried about these questions.

Alecto opened her eyes to return the Niceven’s stare – silver and fire. None of Saalyn’s words came as a surprise; her distrust and judgment had been more than clear when they spoke on this subject, last. The accusations could not touch her. But the question, and the faint tremor that bore it, struck the Fury like a knife in the chest. Her shoulders sank, deflating, and her face briefly twisted into something very close to despair. Every part of her wanted to look away from that questioning gaze, and yet she held it, fire cooling to embers, to ash.

“I wish I could tell you that, Saalyn.” She lowered herself back into her chair, caring not at all that the other Sidhe now towered over her, lorded over her. “You have no idea how much I wish I could tell you that the Sluagh King had not...why do you force me to relive something I would sooner forget? Did you not just say it is a waste of time to dwell on the past?” The Fury’s voice wavered – even in its softness at that moment, it verged on hysteria. “I did take Kobaalt to my bed. In my rage I took him, to purge myself with an embrace that I chose. But the seed had already taken root, and it was not her fault...”

The Fury found herself carelessly gripping the blade with her fingers; blood began to drip and well in the crack where knife met wood. It occurred to her that she had never hinted at her assault before, that she had buried her pain beneath her anger and fear. With Cel in the pit, only the Niceven could use this knowledge as a weapon against her now. And yet it was to Saalyn that she poured out the truth. A wry smile ghosted across her face, but her eyes were mirthless. “She deserves a better story. Punish me all you want, but Tovah deserves to have been chosen. She already knows that Segwyn is her father. She does not need to know the rest.”

[Saalyn]

((I apologize for taking so long with this, Dema. Our fourteen year old cat had been sick lately and we had to put him to sleep this past Friday. Needless to say it didn’t leave me in much of a mood to write, but I should be more attentive now.))


Saalyn stared back at Alecto, her expression nearly unreadable as she patiently listened to the Fury’s growing frustrations about the Sluagh and the Unseelie. She couldn’t expect a warrior to understand all of the intricacies of politics just as Alecto couldn’t expect for her to fully comprehend all the workings of war. It was the very reason why different positions existed in the court, why Saalyn had been appointed Niceven and Alecto as Denwyr—their minds worked differently. If they could learn how to work together and create a balance between their strengths and weaknesses, perhaps they could do their kingdom some good.

“The unrest in the Underdark was out of our control,” Saalyn began once she had the chance to speak again, “I doubt the Sluagh had any intention of helping us at all, to be completely honest—it was probably all a foolish fantasy of Segwyn, thinking he could maintain the peace between our two kingdoms. But there is no such thing as negotiating with wild animals. If the former Queen had only understood this everything could have been avoided.”

Yes, if the Sluagh had simply vanished from Alanor like nature intended so many more lives would have been spared. But now…now the future was questionable. How many more innocent fae would have to suffer or die because of one woman’s greed?

Sighing, Saalyn gave a shake of her head, addressing her own inner thoughts as well as the words she was speaking aloud to Alecto as she continued. “But we waste our time with such talk. There is no changing the past. Our future, however, might be as bleak as you say. Which leads me to wonder, how would you suggest that we protect ourselves, Alecto? Build an army? The only way to do so would be to restore the monarchy. Until the Unseelie throne is no longer empty we will continue to be vulnerable. So yes, I do speak of rebuilding. Until we rebuild our Court, we can do nothing.”

Saalyn knew it to be true—she was only the Niceven of the Darkling Throng, and as such she would never be taken seriously enough. Not by her own people, and certainly not by the other factions in Alanor. The Unseelie needed a true ruler, one recognized by the roses, if there was any hope left for their kingdom.

Looking at Alecto left one to wonder if there was any hope left at all. This faerie—a Princess of Havoc and Denwyr of the Unseelie—had once been so strong, so certain. But as Saalyn listened to the Fury’s story and watched as her whole being was wracked with despair, the Niceven had to wonder if there was anything left of the Alecto she had once known inside of the ruined vessel that stood before her now.

Even without saying it directly, it was easy enough for Saalyn to understand the graveness of Alecto’s story, and a wave of nausea and grief surged through her as the truth was revealed. It seemed Alecto hadn't been a traitor after all. Far from it, in fact—the Sluagh king had instead betrayed her. The thought of that creature defiling a Sidhe made Saalyn feel sick to her stomach. Segwyn had once spoken of his people, of himself, as if they were better than how the faerie treated them. Now more than ever Saalyn believed the Sluagh deserved worse than being confined to the shadows of the Underdark. They didn't deserve a place in Alanor at all.

But there was little that could be done about that now, not with the Unseelie in their currently weakened state. Even if Saalyn had wanted to assure Alecto that Segwyn would pay for this atrocity, there could be no guarantee of a swift justice. Instead Saalyn kneeled on the ground before Alecto and reaching out gently unfolded the woman's fingers from around the blade that made them bleed. She could not take away the pain that Segwyn had caused the Fury, she doubted anything ever would, but she could at least mend this one.

"I believe that you have already been punished enough," the Niceven spoke in a slow, calm voice as her magic sewed together the damaged flesh of Alecto's hand. It made Saalyn's heart ache to know that Alecto thought she would use this nightmare against her in some way, but she could not find the will to reprimand the woman, not after hearing what she had just heard.

Even after the physical wounds were healed, Saalyn maintained her light hold on Alecto's hand, but her gaze fell elsewhere when she spoke, the words coming absentmindedly.

"It was the day when we first met, wasn't it? When you came to the King speaking of the attack in the forest." Saalyn could still remember that day although without the same clarity in which she used to. So much had happened then—her meeting with Alecto, her promotion to Branwyn, Cel assigning them both with the mission of informing Queen Annette about the reappearance of the Host. Her life had been forever changed that day, though not in the same way that Alecto's had.

Alecto. Saalyn's head gave a sudden jerk and she instantly returned to the present. Silver eyes sought the Fury’s face, the look in them apologetic. "I...I do not mean to make you relive such horror. I am sorry."

It was a rarity for Saalyn to stumble over her own words. It was perhaps even more rare for her to apologize to anyone. She stood immediately, letting go of the other woman's hand, and took several steps back before she stopped and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt uncomfortable now, at a loss from having her personal anger towards Alecto suddenly evaporated. That anger was quickly replaced with confusion however, and when Saalyn gathered the courage to look at the Princess of Havoc again she gave a perplexed shake of her head.

“Why then? If Segwyn…Why would you defend him at all? Or his people?” Saalyn asked in a much gentler tone than she had used before in her interrogation. “You spoke of our lack of warriors, but you are one of the few we do have. Why did you not try to convince Cel of your loyalty so that you could fight the Sluagh? Why did you not tell us the truth of what had happened?”

[Alecto]

I believe you have been punished enough.

Alecto averted her eyes at last, head lowering, eyelids drooping over a gaze obscured by threatening tears. It was the most intense relief, nearly ecstasy, to expect more pain and be soothed, instead. A shiver raced through her arm as the Niceven’s magic healed her. The fury released a slow, deliberate breath, to stave off the possibility of a sob. She was weakened, there was no denying that. She was weak enough to feel, weak enough to lay her cards on the table, weak enough to admit defeat. So strange, that it would be Saalyn to defeat her, to shatter the carefully crafted defenses. Perhaps there were times when a fortress had grown so vast, so impossible to navigate, that the only answer was to raze it to the ground and start anew. The tears receded, not one managing an escape, and she lifted her head to study this surprising woman as she pieced together what had happened. It might have been funny; everything seemed so obvious in retrospect. We read the letters of the dead like puzzled gods –
gods nevertheless, because we know what happened later… A human’s words. How astute the mortal world could be.

“Do not be sorry,” she countered, simply. “It is I who should be sorry.”

It did not hurt when Saalyn withdrew; the initial contact had been so surprising, Alecto could expect nothing else, now. She folded her hands in her lap, leaned back in the chair. Her expression slowly transitioned from grief to thoughtfulness. Why would she defend Segwyn and the Sluagh? It was not an easy question. She had lived too long to consider those creatures her equals, and lacked respect for a race that would permit the treatment they endured, when they obviously had the strength of numbers. But war makes strange bedfellows. As for Segwyn, the answer was so complex that she could not hope to unravel it, much less make it clear to Saalyn.

“At first I did not know,” she began, knowing that whatever she could offer would be an over simplification, “And when I did, Tovah was already a presence inside me. Cel would have ripped her from my body – you must know he would have, and that he would have relished it. Motherhood has strange effects. That is the first reason.”

She drew herself up a little in her chair, crossed her legs. Her brows knit as she struggled with the second reason. Saalyn could not possibly understand how, in her ignorance, Alecto had come to respect and admire the Sluagh kind despite his humble birth. The Niceven would certainly not comprehend the way such respect, hard earned, could temper her rage when she discovered the truth. But perhaps she could understand why loyalty to her people, and the belief that she acted in their best interest, would drive her to conceal such a horror.

“The second reason is difficult. I couldn’t care less about the Sluagh. There was some pity for them in me, but one only pities the low. Segwyn, though…Segwyn is a warrior. He took a risk saving us at Imbolc. He took a graver risk, tracking the Drow. He offered insight into the enemy – the true enemy – and an alliance that would serve the Unseelie. The Drow are a real threat, Saalyn, more real than any we have faced before. I did not think we could afford to lose Segwyn…especially after Cel sent us on that humiliating errand to Annette, after I saw that my own King was doing nothing to remedy his ignorance of the situation or divulge what he did know.”

She took a deep breath. “I believed my desire for justice was personal, and a pale thing compared to the safety of our court. I saw that if the Sluagh were not with us, they would be against us. Perhaps you can see why Cel’s decision to start a war with them caused me so much…rage. It is hard for me to accept that everything I have endured has been for nothing.”

Alecto reached for a decanter on a nearby table, poured two glasses of a wine like liquid garnet, leaving the second for Saalyn to take if she so desired. Her own glass she lifted to her lips, drinking deeply, until nearly half of it was drained. “We still cannot afford to lose him. There is much that he knows, and he would be a very dangerous enemy.” These words were flat, practically expressionless, though their lack of intonation bore the stamp of inner conflict. Alecto knew she should not care for Segwyn. She knew that her assault should override every act of valor that had followed. But it did not.

It was troubling, when things did not go as they should.

[Saalyn]

((Sa-Sa’s kinda all over the place in this one…I guess that’s what I get for writing it out of sequence lol))

“But if you had only told me, I could have—!“ Saalyn began, her voice surprisingly full of emotion as she took a reflexive step forward, but then she abruptly stopped short, and closing her eyes she shook her head. Could have, what? Convinced Cel to spare the child? Alecto was right—their King would have shown no mercy no matter the pleading or persisting, even if it were coming from his top advisor. When it came to Segwyn, Cel seemed to completely lose his head in his rage. The Sluagh Rebellion was proof of that. “I…do not know what I could have done,” the Niceven quietly concluded, her tone becoming little more than a defeated whisper before she gave a halfhearted shrug of her shoulders, “Helped you escape Alanor, perhaps. I do not know.”

This feeling of helplessness…Saalyn despised it. She found it odd that something that had already happened, that could no longer be changed, would affect her so, especially considering that it wasn’t even her burden to bear. But part of her couldn’t help to think of all the other possible outcomes that could have come about if Alecto had only been honest with her those many years ago.

At least they were being honest with one another now, Saalyn thought, and it did manage to bring her some sense of comfort. She had come to respect the Princess of Havoc a great deal after they had met, even if they did tend to butt heads on every other topic. Their falling out just prior to the beginning of the rebellion had weighed heavy on Saalyn’s heart despite the fact that she had stayed her hand in attempting to help the woman when she was thrown in prison. Although it was no excuse, there had been more pressing matters to worry about at the time.

The problem was that there were still pressing matters to attend to, and when Alecto suggested that Segwyn would be invaluable in dealing with them, Saalyn had to take a moment to replay the words in her head to ensure she had heard them correctly.

“We cannot afford to lose Segwyn?” the Niceven repeated in confusion, completely incredulous to the notion. She gave a short laugh, one that was enough to express that she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He defiled you, forced me into servitude, and still you would have us keep him as an ally? His own people no longer respect him after he refused to take our throne. What good is he to us now?”

This was absurd. There was no guarantee that Segwyn would want to help them, even less that the Unseelie would want his help after what happened during the rebellion. Saalyn certainly did not. She began lightly pacing as she tried to sort out the details in her head, but the Niceven couldn’t make sense of why any Unseelie, Alecto especially, would want that Shadowspawn’s aid. But then a thought struck her. It brought Saalyn's pacing to an instant halt, and she silently studied the Fury for a moment as the other woman busied herself with pouring a couple of glasses of wine.

Tovah. Tovah was the answer for everything that drove this woman both then and now.

“You would do anything for her, wouldn’t you?” Saalyn vaguely stated, pausing long enough to move forward and take the remaining wine-filled glass into her hand. Standing at Alecto’s side, she looked down into the blood red liquid, watched how it moved as she swirled it in its holder. “I cannot understand the bond that exists between a mother and child. Perhaps when I was younger and more naïve, but not any more.”

Again Saalyn paused, this time to take a sip of the rich liquor. When she had tasted enough her arm settled back down against her abdomen, her silver eyes staring at the wall until she was seeing through it, beyond it. It had been some time since she had last thought of her mother. She had no desire to start now, much less talk about it. Collecting herself, Saalyn turned her silver gaze back to Alecto as she moved around the woman’s chair to stand in front of her once again. She spoke as she walked, shifting them back to a topic that she was much more comfortable with discussing as she did so.

“You did not answer my question, Alecto,” Saalyn started, curious rather than demanding, “If you would criticize my method of thinking, then I am eager to know how you would go about solving this dilemma in which our Court has found itself. I must admit that I am at a loss. War is not my forte—such destruction goes against my very nature. I am also no leader, and with a majority of the highest-ranking positions of our Court sitting empty, there is little in terms of assistance in resolving this matter.”

Saalyn gave a heavy sigh, one that clearly showed that she was weary. There had been no relief from her anxiety since before the rebellion started, and it seemed that she would not be finding it any time soon. As her free hand reached up to gently message the spot between her eyes, she continued to voice her fears. Perhaps it was unfair to be subjugating Alecto to her own troubles after everything the Fury had been through—and was currently going through—herself, but Saalyn knew no one else to which she could turn. At least no one who could understand as well as Alecto could.

“Believe me when I say that I want to do right by our people. All I want is to keep them safe, but I do not know how to do that, or if it is even possible now,” the Niceven said, “The magic in my veins urges me to fix this situation like I would a broken body, but our kingdom seems so far gone that I fear there is little I can do to mend it, not on my own.”

[Alecto]

The Fury endured her friend’s outburst against Segwyn without reaction. Everything she said, Alecto had thought of before, thought of repeatedly. She had been at war with herself since the day she returned to Alanor, almost thirty five years ago, all because of that beautiful Nightflyer and his plots. Not for the last time, she wondered if she should agree with Saalyn. But the question was a passing thing, as emotions always were, and the part of her that loved her court and her daughter more than herself began to speak of its resolve.

“Yes, Saalyn. I would do anything for her. And so would he.” She took another sip, then returned the cup to the table. Her comment about naïveté stung, but now was not the time to bicker over trivialities. “As long as Tovah is Unseelie, Segwyn will cooperate. As I said before, he has more information about our enemies than anyone else in this court. And as I said before, we cannot afford his enmity. His court is lost to him; if he loses this one as well, I do not doubt he will go over to the Drow...and then what? We cannot afford to lose what he knows about the Drow, and we cannot afford for the Drow to acquire what he knows about us. His crimes against me have nothing to do with the interests of the court.”

She sighed, exhausted by that topic, and leaned her head back against her chair. It was a relief that Saalyn wished to speak of something else as much as she did. Her eyes studied the woman, half-lidded, as she paced the room. “I believe you,” she said quietly, almost inaudibly, at her request. She shifted her weight to lean on her left elbow, covering her mouth with her hand. The reprieve of changing subjects was quickly eclipsed by the direness of the situation. Alecto fully believed that they were on the road to disaster, and wasn’t sure she disbelieved Segwyn’s prophecy so many years ago. The only way they could be truly safe was to expel the Drow from Alanor. Until then, they would be helpless against their attacks, which would surely grow more frequent now that the Unseelie were weakened. They could expect no help from Annette – perhaps even she was looking to the Darkling caverns as a conquest.

But somehow, Alecto couldn’t say these things now. Saalyn wasn’t looking for more reasons to be afraid. She was looking for a solution. The Fury did not have one...but she was beginning to have ideas. She took a deep breath.

“I concede your points. Our people do need hope, structure, and an army,” she said through her fingers, staring into nothing, or perhaps into her own thoughts. “All three are equally important. I am no leader either, but perhaps I can rally what remains of the troops. Can you think of anyone worthy of a promotion?” The hand covering her mouth had slid to her cheek, weariness taking her, and inevitability. “If you cannot bolster the ranks of Unseelie advisors...I don’t know who can.”

[Saalyn]

((I wasn't sure how much longer this conversation was going to last. If we're done, I can go back and edit this to have Sa-Sa leave. Just let me know.))


If you cannot bolster the ranks of Unseelie advisors...I don’t know who can.

Saalyn’s hand dropped away from her face upon hearing those words and she fixed Alecto with a momentary stare. Her silver eyes quickly moved elsewhere however as the Niceven retreated into her own head, her mind working as quickly as it tended to do. The Darkling Throng was on the cusp of destruction and there was barely a handful of fae in the kingdom who could rightfully do anything about it. But she was one of those select few—she was the Niceven of the Unseelie. It was her duty to do something about this predicament rather than just worry and complain about it to a comrade.

A quiet hum was the only answer Saalyn gave at first—recognition that she had heard Alecto, but not necessarily agreed with her—but eventually her head began to nod as she considered all that the other woman had to say and her gaze settled upon the Fury once more.

“You are right. There is no use in pining like a small child for a future that will never be when we need to be working toward a future that we can create from what remains.”

She paused, and turning away Saalyn moved to set her glass of wine down on the nearest surface. She needed her hands free and her mind clear if she were to work to her full potential, and right now she needed every advantage she could viably obtain. When it was done, she returned to standing before Alecto, this time with her back a little straighter, some confidence regained, although her expression was not completely free of worry.

“It pains me to ask this of you after everything that has happened, but any help that you can provide might just pull us through this disaster,” Saalyn began, her voice authoritative enough to be taken seriously, but soft in knowing she was asking a lot from this woman, this friend, who had already been through so much. “Work on gathering our troops—we will need to bolster our defenses in case the Drow or the Seelie decide they want to take advantage of our current state of disorder. In the meantime, I will try to find some able-minded fae to serve as advisors that we may rule in place of Cel until we can find his replacement.

“Also, if…” Again Saalyn’s speech came to a halt, time in which a troubled look washed over her features. It was clear that she was debating her next words carefully, and she gave a small sigh before she continued, though she seemed reluctant to do so. “If you truly believe that Segwyn can help us, perhaps we should arrange a meeting with him. I despise myself for considering this at all, much less suggesting it to you, but you might bring your daughter along as well. If she can influence Segwyn as you seem to believe that she can, she could prove to be invaluable to our efforts of gaining his support.”

Saalyn was sure to maintain eye contact with Alecto as she spoke, but especially so now. It was one thing to ask for the Denwyr’s help with rebuilding the Unseelie Court, it was another to ask a mother to involve her child with the politics that could make or break an entire kingdom. The Niceven was aware that she was suggesting that they use Tovah to aid their standing with Segwyn—not unlike the way Saalyn’s own parents had once used her as a pawn in their social games—which made the idea all the more appalling to her. Perhaps if they could be forthright with the girl it would sting a little less, but without meeting Tovah first Saalyn wouldn’t know just how much it would be safe to tell her.

But before any of that could even be considered at all, Alecto would have to give her consent, and Saalyn made sure to say as much as she continued.

“She is your daughter, Alecto, and I will not force your or Tovah’s hand one way or another when it comes to her involvement in this matter. I leave that decision up to you. All I ask is that you at least consider speaking with her about it.”

[Alecto]

((If you want to do a wrap-up post after this, we’ve probably covered it for now.))

In truth, Alecto was grateful for the call to action. For thousands of years, she had been a creature devoid of regret, an object in the present tense with no past to relive and no future to consider. Time had made her more complex, of course, and now that she was a mother there was no possibility that the future would cease to trouble her. But the past she could forget. The past she had to forget. It was too painful and confusing to live in her memories. Perhaps with new purpose and a wealth of obligations to busy her mind, the insanity which touched her in solitude would begin to dissipate.

Fury nodded at Saalyn’s first command, not the type to bristle at an order. But the Niceven’s second exhortation gave her pause. She tried to imagine Saalyn and Segwyn sitting at a round table, discussing the fate of their people, and found the resulting visions very troubling. Could they be civil to one another? They had been for the briefest of moments when they first met, but so much had happened since then...between all parties involved. And would Segwyn cooperate? Alecto realized, with a twinge of remorse, that she had never asked him how he felt about his departed kingdom. Would he hunt them, if it became necessary? If it would protect Tovah?

Saalyn was speaking again, interrupting her thoughts. Alecto waved away her concerns with a hand. “No, you are right. It is fitting that she be there and that she learn to act on behalf of her court. She has strange sensibilities, as you might imagine...having grown up in Cel’s palace as a servant with Goblin Blade’s blood, and then discovering that her captor was her uncle.” She paused, pained by even the relation of that tale, and the many years of her daughter’s early life that were missed. “In general she abhors politics. But she is of sound mind, sounder than most, and I think she will help us. We will need all the help we can get, to remind Segwyn that his loyalties should now lie with the Unseelie.”

Segwyn’s plan, all those years ago, resurfaced in her mind at these words. He had been crafting Alanor’s savior, or so he believed; he thought Tovah would rise to be queen of both courts and the Sluagh as well, defending their entire race with the single weapon of numbers. How far that plan had run off course! Alecto had never counted on it, had never wished that fate on her daughter when she had been born – monarchs had too many cares, and Tovah had seemed so fragile as a child. But Tovah was not fragile anymore...not in mind, and her body was following. Maybe her place was in the court’s ruling body, whether or not she sat the throne. Did the roses not love her? Did she not have a strange, compelling effect on most faerie that she met? The Fury was not sure she could bear this outcome, but if it was what the Unseelie needed...

Not that such things were her place to decide. She was a fighter; Saalyn was the thinker. Whether Tovah belonged on their council or not was the Niceven’s decision.

“I will arrange the meeting.”