Hattie scratched at the corner of the scar on her face. It was a horrible habit, but it helped her to breathe more evenly.
She needed to because standing outside her house was a centaur and harpy. Diana was perched on John’s back as usual, balanced on his hindquarters. The pair each wore shoulderbags.
They hadn’t noticed her yet. Instead they were pacing across the bridge Hattie lived under. Technically the bridge was just a ramp toward the copper mine where Telkandra, the dragon, had once lived, but most people called it “The Copper Bridge.”
Hattie had known that she was going to get visitors thanks to Frances and Morgan, but seeing them was strange. For a very long time, she peered at the pair behind the corner of a ruined building, crushed by the dragon.
It would be horribly rude however, to keep the pair waiting, so despite how sweaty her palms felt, Hattie stepped out.
“Hi John, Diana. How are you?”
Diana and John turned in unison, but they both had different reactions. The centaur nodded whilst the harpy smiled.
“Good. How are you Hattie?” John asked.
Hattie swallowed. Hiding her hands behind her back. “I’m good.” She took a breath and smiled, a certain harpy-troll in her mind. “Yeah, I’m good. I was just having dinner at Frances’s with Morgan. I’m um, sorry about what happened between you two.”
Diana waved a wing. “You don’t have to apologise on her behalf. Besides, I may have been a bit pushy.”
John nodded. “May we come in?”
“Sure.” Hattie stammered, walking towards her door. “It’s a little cramped for you John. Sorry.”
The centaur chuckled. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I must admit I am curious to see what your house is like. You’ve lived on your own for some time, right?”
Hattie scratched the back of her ear. “Well, Frances always invited me over for dinner. Um, make yourselves home.”
The half-troll’s home had two floors. The first floor was far less bare than before and now had a table and some stools. There was only one chair. Hattie quickly grabbed a pitcher of water and some chipped clay-baked cups.
“So, um, what’s the occasion?” Hattie asked, sitting down on one of the stools.
John just lay down on the floor, but politely took a cup. Diana fluttered over to one of the chairs.
“Well we wanted to thank you, Hattie. You kind of helped us settle into Respite a year ago, but we never really thanked you for that,” said the harpy.
Hattie blinked. “Oh, um, you’re welcome. Has it really been a year since you arrived?”
John took a sip from his cup. “Mm hmm. It’s thanks to you that we’re well, happy as we can be.”
“Yeah, so we thought we’d give you a small gift.” Diana picked up her shoulder bag and put it on the table. “Go on, open it.”
Eyes narrowed, Hattie opened the shoulder bag and grasped a metal and wood handle. Pulling it, she found a simple, but well-balanced dagger inset with a single sapphire in its handle.
Her eyes now wide, Hattie shook her head. “I can’t accept this! This must have cost a lot!”
John smiled. “Well it just took some time. Bird-brain found the stones and materials.”
Diana flicked the centaur with the tip of her wing, only making him chuckle. “And this big lug forged it with Blazey’s help.”
“But I—”
“You can use it can you?” Diana cut in with an arch tone.
“Well yes. It’s super useful, but I…” Hattie bowed her hea. “I did very little for you both. It couldn’t have been that important.”
John shook his head. “Maybe it wasn’t important to you, but it was to us. Just having someone being there to give us new clothes, blankets and show us our new room was beyond relieving.”
Diana nodded, her wings fluttering. “You really helped me in particular with some delicate matters and you didn’t ask any questions. You didn’t judge. You just helped. That was what we needed. That’s why we wanted to repay you and help you, if you’d like.”
Wiping her eyes, Hattie nodded once. “Thank you. Um, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t feeling very good about myself until recently.”
Grimacing, John shifted closer to the table. “I heard. Sighla and her posse were coming after you?”
“Yeah. I should have told someone earlier, but I didn’t. I—” Hattie shook her head. “It’s over now. They know not to bother me any more.”
Drumming her claws on the chair, Diana grumbled. “They’d better.”
“Mmhmm. How are you both by the way?” Hattie asked.
The centaur and the harpy exchanged a look. John tilted his head. Diana fluttered her wings. John shrugged. “We’re good. We’re still living at Respite.”
“Huh?” Confusion flickered across Hattie’s face. “Wait, how have you not moved out, or been adopted yet?”
Taking on an arch tone, Diana frowned. “What’s wrong with living at Respite?”
“Nothing! It’s just that I thought that you’d want to move out or would have been adopted by now.” Hattie groaned. “I’m sorry that was thoughtless.”
“No, you’re not the first person to ask that. The thing is we don’t want new parents,” said John.
“And we don’t want to leave Respite. We’re training to become teachers and counsellors there. We want to help those who are probably never going to be taken in, like Sighla and the others,” Diana added.
“Most people see them as too old,” said John.
Hattie smiled, a slight frown on her features. “Well, I’m very happy for you both that you found something you enjoy. Though, too old? Do folk really think there’s a limit? Frances was fifteen when Edana adopted her.”
John nodded. “Thanks! And yeah, look at you and Frances
The half-troll froze. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Frances…” John blinked. “Wait, I thought Frances adopted you.”
Diana sighed and hopped over to where Hattie sat. “And I said that she probably hadn’t. Even if it looks like she has.” The harpy touched Hattie with a gentle wing. “Look, whatever is going on, you seem to be in a good place right now. You don’t need to put a name to that.”
Hattie, very still, didn’t react to Diana’s touch. She stared dead straight ahead. “I never really thought about how it looked.”
“You shouldn’t put too much thought in it. I’m sorry I brought it up,” said John.
“It’s fine. I kinda brought the whole adoption thing. Um, so you’re both happy, right?”
John and Diana glanced at each other in unison, their eyes meeting each others for a long moment.
“Mostly,” said John.
“As good as it can,” said Diana. She sighed and gave Hattie a pat on her shoulder. “Well, it’s late and we both need to be going back. It was nice visiting you, Hattie. We should hang out more often.”
Hattie blinked. “We should? I mean, you found it nice?”
John snorted, whilst his gaze dropped to the centre of the table. “Yeah. We…we don’t really have many friends either.”
“Sely’s nice, but he doesn't get what we went through. Not like you,” said Diana. She scratched the back of her head with her wing. “See you around.”
Hattie bounced to her feet and showed the pair the door. “See you around,” she said with an tentative smile.
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In the quiet night, with Morgan fast asleep, Frances worked in the kitchen of her home.
Her hands moved with practiced ease, pouring Hearthsange into a kettle, putting cookies underneath a covered tray and choosing a book she suspected Morgan would like to read.
Only the exhausted frown on Frances’s features gave any hint to the worry that gripped the mage.
“There, Nightmare Tray finished.” Frances beamed to herself, but the smile didn’t last. She found herself sitting down heavily at the kitchen table, rubbing her eyes with one hand.
Frances?
“I’m alright, Ivy. Just tired.” She gently caressed her wand. “It was nice seeing Hattie accept Morgan’s feelings. Do you think they’ll fall in love?”
There’s a very good possibility, but they are very young right now.
“Yes, and they both have long journeys to go.” Frances rested her elbows on the table. “I’m sorry I got that panic attack.”
Frances, you know you couldn’t control it.
Her hands balling into fists, Frances swallowed. “I’m twenty years old, Ivy. I’m happy. I’ve never been happier. I shouldn’t be getting these attacks.”
Why shouldn’t you be getting these attacks if you’re happy?
“Because there shouldn’t be anything that’s triggering them. I have a beautiful home, Timur, my friends, and I live in a lovely town. I love my job, I like where I am, I like me.”
Ivy’s Sting fell silent. Frances could feel her warm touch in her mind, and yet there was a hesitancy she could sense.
Frances, I’m not sure if that’s entirely true. You are happy, happier than you were before, but I sometimes sense flashes of very negative feelings at yourself.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Groaning, Frances rested her head on the table.
“I know, Ivy. I just don’t quite know why. Or maybe I don’t want to admit it.”
Her wand hummed. You started having these when Morgan arrived.
Frances flinched. “It’s not her fault.”
Frances, you’re trying to raise another hurting child. Your stress is going to increase no matter what.
“It’s not her fault, though. It’s me.” Frances heaved in a shuddering breath, and wiped her eyes. “Ivy, I’m not sure why, but I’m thinking a lot more of my mother.”
Ivy suddenly felt cold to the touch. Your mother?
Frances nodded, her face buried in her hands now. “Yeah, I’m remembering more about her, and what she did to me. I don’t know why but last night, when I was dreaming, I remembered her name is Emiliana. Emiliana Wendlan. I remembered that she did kiss me.”
But didn’t she hit you?
Frances nodded again, trying to keep her rising voice under control. “She did, I just forgot that a long, long time ago, I think she did love me, and I can’t figure out why she stopped. Did I do something wrong? Did she go crazy? What happened to her? I can’t remember. I don’t want to, but I also want to know!” Frances stood up, making the chair scrape as she strode to the downstairs bathroom. Yet, splashing water on her face did nothing to stop the knot of emotions that were bubbling up in the back of her throat.
Ivy’s Sting couldn’t hug her, but she did envelope Frances’s mind in a blanket of warmth and comfort. Oh Frances, when did you start remembering this?
“When Morgan arrived.” A cold feeling ran up Frances’s back, and she went quite still. “That’s just a coincidence. Morgan doesn’t remind me of my mother.”
Ivy gave Frances a nudge that made the woman wince. Frances, are you sure?
“I hope. I’m not sure. No.” Frances sat down, her eyes wide. “She does remind me of mom. I think it’s because she can get so angry so suddenly. Then there’s how quickly she can start hitting people.” Frances groaned. “Oh why am I so messed up? She’s just a kid! It’s not her fault she’s pushing my triggers.”
And you know that, and you aren’t blaming her, right?
“Of course not. She’s a dear. She’s trying so hard and she may not like it, but she listens to me. I lo—” Frances slammed her hands over her mouth.
Frances, you love her?
Frances knew she was alone and that Morgan was fast asleep, and yet she could only croak out, “Maybe? I don’t know what to feel. What I should be feeling.”
Ivy Sting hummed, Why does what you should be feeling matter, Frances?
“Because it does.” Frances pulled her wand from its holster at her side. “I mean, you shouldn’t feel guilty for what your former masters forced you to do. That’s the truth. I shouldn’t have been feeling what I felt when I was a child.”
Alright, why shouldn’t you love Morgan then?
That was the question wasn’t it? Frances felt her shoulders sag and her back lean against the chair.
“She has a mother. Someone far less broken than I am. I’m just caring for Morgan until Renia is ready.”
Renia may never be ready! She admitted that herself. Besides, do you really think she’d begrudge you for taking in Morgan under your wing? Caring for her when she can’t?
Shuddering, Frances holstered Ivy’s Sting, one hand still trying to staunch her tears. “No. I know that. The problem is with me. I don’t think I can—or should love Morgan right now.”
Why’s that, Frances?
Alone but for her oldest friend and most loyal companion, Frances heard her damming whispered words echo in the house she’d built. “I still don’t love myself, Ivy. I love my home, where I am, my friends and family. I’m so happy with what I have. I’m just not happy with me.” Closing her eyes, Frances grimaced. “I know I’ll never be able to fix that. All I can do is protect what I love and make sure the people that bring me happiness stay alive.”
Ivy’s Sting didn’t reply at first. Instead, she sent a warm sensation up Frances’s arm.
There’s always hope, Frances.
Frances sighed and smiled. “Perhaps. What I know for sure is that I am so lucky my mother introduced you to me.”
We were both lucky, Frances. If wands could smile, Ivy would be doing so. Now, I think you ought to be off to bed.
“I know. Thank you, Ivy.”
----------------------------------------
The next day, Morgan thrown into waking by a nightmare. Shivering, crying, and hating the phantom words and feelings that bombarded her memories, she buried her face into her blanket, trying to muffle herself.
It’d been a new nightmare. Most of the time she dreamt of the beatings by her captors and the experiments they performed on her. This time, they were plucking her feathers, one by one, while they laughed and laughed.
Shaking her head, she slid out of bed. She might as well get something to eat. Frances said there were snacks on her new “nightmare” tray. She wouldn’t have to take from the pantry.
More than a little curious, Morgan made her way down to the kitchen nook and found a small wooden tray that hadn’t been there before with two kettles, a small glass jar with a white pill, a plate of cookies under a glass dome, and a novel of all things. Frowning, she approached it and noticed a note that it was pinning a note.
Dear Morgan,
Here is a kettle of water, a kettle of hearthsange, and some cookies. There are more cookies in the jar in the upper cabinet and you’re welcome to have them. If you need something to help you fall asleep, I left a good book and a sleeping pill. You don’t have to tell me to refill any of these, I will check the tray every night.
Yours sincerely,
Frances
A warm feeling creeping into her heart, Morgan sat down and took a bite of one of the cookies. A smile burst across her face as chocolate played across her tongue.
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“The Manor” or Molar Mount Manor, where General Antigones and Queen Titania had made their base wasn’t actually a mountain, or a manor. It was a castle complex sat atop of a high plateau. This plateau dominated the flat plains that stretched out towards the Ollanian Mountain Range to the north.
From what Timur knew from his studies, Molar Mount Manor had been called as such not because it was shaped like a tooth, but because it was called after the orc war chief Molargranus Monger, who had claimed the mount as his castle. The manor had become attached to the title after a fire gutted the original castle and General Antigones’s grandfather Acktion rebuilt the complex with a fortified manorial complex.
After riding up a winding ramp into the fortress, Timur let the grooms take his horse before making his way toward the mansion itself.
While ostentatious and even moreso since his sister had moved in, Antigones’s mansion was still the home of a famously dignified general. Banners, paintings and tapestries covered some of the barest walls, but the captured enemy weapons and armor that the general had displayed were placed prominently at corners or above doorways.
Timur, familiar with the mansion, elected to walk through the corridors. Sure enough, Antigones and Titania were waiting for him in the queen’s private study, but not privately.
Timur passed a pair of armour suits, one that had to have belonged to a centaur and the other that once belonged ot a harpy into the study to find his sister was crossing her arms, pouting at her husband.
“I’m not opening those rooms.”
Atop her head, Whitey shook so hard that it made the trorc’s head move. “Titania, you are being sillyl! We need to find out why Zirabelle and Archmage Star tried to have Ulania killed. It’s probably important to understanding your father.”
General Antigones, an uncharacteristic frown on his solemn features, drummed his fingers on his arm as he studied his wife. “Dear, what’s really going on? I told you I am alright with opening up my wife’s chambers.”
Titania closed her eyes, before scrunching up her face. “Don’t want to. That’s the end of that.”
Timur pursed his lips and after a moment’s thought, turned to leave. His half-limp tail whipped across the harpy armor’s claws however, knocking them off the pedestal with a clatter.
As his brother-in-law and sister’s eyes settled on him, Timur slowly faced them, scratching the back of his head.
“Um, did I come at a bad time?”
Whitey growled, “Perfect timing actually. We’re trying to convince her Majesty to let us open Archmage Zirabelle’s rooms. And because I’m trying not to be an arse, I’m not reading Titania’s mind.”
Timur nodded. “Very nice of you, Whitey.”
Titania rolled her eyes, pinched lips giving way to a strained smile. “Hey bro. You need something to drink? Maybe some time to rest?”
The orc general gently put an arm on his wife’s shoulder. “Dear, please. You know you can talk to us. If you won’t let us, at least tell us why.”
There was a flash of wide-eyed panic that was immediately suppressed by a tired scowl. “It’s the best option.”
Timur took a deep breath. “Titania, finding more about dad’s past is the best way we can strike back against him. We know so damn little about why he’s so strong and how he thinks. Why would not finding out more about him be the best option?”
Titania’s ears twitched and she glanced at Antigones. Timur didn’t miss that, but he wasn’t sure as to the significance of her reaction.
Antigones, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. “Titania, you think you’re trying to protect me from something.”
Her eyes widening, the queen shook her head. “What? No. That’s not it.”
Antigones sighed. “Well what else can it be? The only time I’ve seen you like this is when you think you’re going to hurt me. My dear, I’m the last person you need to protect.”
Titania closed her eyes. “I know, but I know how much you love Zirabelle. No matter what reason she had for doing it, she probably was involved in an assassination.” The trorc opened her eyes, and looked directly up at her husband. “I know you dear, and I know you are going to feel hurt and betrayed by her. I don’t find that worth uncovering some decades old mystery.”
Wrinkles loosened on the orc general’s face as his eyes widened. Reaching out, Antigones gently pulled his wife into a hug and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“Oh Titania, thank you for thinking of me, but as much as I still love Zirabelle, our relationship wasn’t as perfect as you might have thought.” That brought Titania and Timur to stare at the general, who nodded once. “Zirabelle had a habit of keeping secrets from everybody, even those that she loved. It was the cause of many arguments when she was alive. In the end I chose to accept her reasons, but I was never fully comfortable with them.”
Titania squeezed Antigones’s arms. “Are you sure?”
The general smiled. “Positive.”
----------------------------------------
Archmage Zirabelle’s rooms stood behind heavy doors painted white and gold. From his pocket, Antigones produced a key which he started to fiddle with the brass knob.
Timur, his tail flicking side to side, swallowed. “So have you ever been back in these rooms?”
“Yes. Just to give them a dusting and to make sure nobody’s disturbed it. I’ve not actually examined my wife’s files, though. There!” The lock clicked open and the door swung open. Antigones strode in, followed by Titania and Timur.
They arrived in a bedchamber with a fireplace. Mirror and makeup table were sat on one side, whilst part of the room opened up to a walk-in closet that was empty except for a number of chests.
Antigones glanced at those chests with a fond look. “Zirabelle’s old gowns and dresses. They were very beautiful but I’m not sure what to do with them.”
“I could model them for you, if you’d like, dear?” Titania asked in a quiet voice.
The general blinked, a pensive look coming over his features. “I…I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”
Timur’s eyes wandered over the room, where he found a corridor leading down. “Where does that lead to?”
Antigones shook himself from what had to be his musings. “Zirabelle’s study. I don’t understand much of what is there so you’ll have to elaborate for me.”
The trio walked quietly into the study, shrouded in darkness. Titania took out Second Chance and waved it, casting a light. As the flame shone, the pair stopped quite suddenly.
Titania whistled. “Woah, that is an Archmage’s laboratory.”
Stretching from wall to wall were desks, shelves and chests. They overfilled with phials, notebooks, bottles and papers. Unlike the organised chaos that Timur recalled of Frances’s laboratory, though, Zirabelle’s lab was just chaos. There didn’t seem to be a pattern to where everything was located.
“It’s like a bomb went off,” muttered Timur, examining the mess.
“Oh Zirabelle really hated spending time cleaning up, This is typical of her,” said Antigones with a wry smile.
Groaning, Titania touched Whitey. “It’ll take ages to go through this and it’s likely she wouldn’t have left any notes of this sort in plain sight.”
That seems unlikely. General, perhaps your wife had a place she kept documents or important material? Something she told you to open if she by for some unforeseen reason, perished?
The general grimaced and shook his head. “No. Zirabelle told me long ago that if she had secrets she’d take them to the grave as it’d be better for everybody involved.”
Walking up to the large desk at the corner, Titania began to rummage through it. “Well we better get searching then. I’ll start here.”
Timur raised his wand and quickly cast a light so he could see the dim room better. “I’ll look through here.” He pursed his lips. “Second Chance, do you perhaps have any suggestions?”
Zirabelle did keep a reinforced chest. Check the far corner. There, with the textbooks on top.
Titania marched over to the corner and lifted the textbooks off of a wooden chest with corners and edges covered with steel. “Found it. Hm, I don’t see a keyhole.”
The wand sighed. It is activated with a spoken password, Your Majesty. Give me a moment. I will try to recall it.
Kneeling by the chest, Timur studied it and waved his wand over the chest, muttering Words of Power under his breath.
The chest flashed and Timur jumped, backpeddling away. Stumbling, Titania caught him and pulled him up.
“Bro, what the fuck did you do?”
The prince scratched the back of his head. “I basically probed the chest to see if there was any way to unlock the thing magically but the protections are strong. Too strong to break without damaging whatever’s in there. We’ll need the passphrase.”
Antigones, who’d been stroking his beard as the twins had examined the chest, suddenly stiffened. “Could it be…Antigones Star Aralik?”
A quiet click echoed through the room and the lid of the chest opened slightly. Timur and Titania’s eyes widened as they turned to the orc general.
Antigones sighed. “Zirabelle wasn’t great at remembering passwords or passphrases. She preferred to make them personal to herself. So when we did go for missions or try to encrypt letters, we’d use long phrases or sets of names. Moreover, sometimes she’d offhandedly remark that I unlocked her heart.”
Titania swallowed. “But why was Star in the password?”
The general closed his eyes for a brief moment and shook his head. His silence stretched on, even as the orc knelt down and opened the chest. Resting in a neat row were several leather-bound notebooks, with letters carefully filed in between them.
“Well, time to get reading,” said Timur, reaching in.