(A/N: Believe it or not. I am actually an Archnophobe. Not as bad as some people that I know, I can at least screw my courage up in order to take a cup, piece of card, and scoop the things out the window. But I need to psyche myself up for it. I jump and squeak in terror when one turns up where it shouldn't be.

I mention this because in imagining the most terrifying, theoretically sinister thing that Ariadne could be attuned with, much like Bruce Wayne chose bats, I chose Spiders. The theme has progressed somewhat since then however.

So for this reason:

WARNING: Scenes that might squick out particularly serious Arachnophobes.

If you wish to combat your Arachnophobia or want to know where the inspiration for Fluffy comes from. Then I point you to You-tube and tell you to search for Lucas the Spider. It will legitimately make you go “Awwww.” At a spider.)

-

Flame but I loved this woman.

I was stood, watching her work, behind one of the bushes in her more central garden. The circle in the middle of all of the walkways where Ariadne likes to hold court.

Or so I'm told.

The fountain was not working, the.... whatever it was... that kept the water moving was turned off due to the cold. The bushes were now completely empty of their leaves other than a couple of the more evergreen plants from the south so that the garden still had a small splash of colour and I watched as Ariadne worked.

The immediate surroundings of this area, are where her manor house complex comes to a focus. Off to one side is her own bed chambers that would, in theory, become our bed-chambers after we were married.

Further round were the bath house and the Dining rooms. But there was also quite clearly a feeling of things that should, or would normally, be on the inside being outside and exposed to the elements. I had not properly explored the entire thing yet as it seemed rather intrusive. But this was where things came to the point.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. There was the Kitchen attached to the dining room but, looking at the dining area itself, there were large doors so that guests, or just Ariadne when she wanted to, could either see outside or actually be outside when the mood took them. This was also the building out of the complex that housed the receiving area where she negotiated with her peers and held court for her subjects. Further round there was what she thought of as her “proffessional buildings”. Meaning her Library where the more complex and magical tomes were stored, her workshop and her laboratory.

All of these buildings were connected, as I say, by covered walkways. But other than the rooves, the entire thing was held up by stone pillars. The pillars and the buildings themselves were made from a white stone of some kind. Not marble though, I rather suspect that it was some kind of sandstone but geology is not one of my better subjects. But the roofs were covered in fire-baked red tiles. The fountain was a large, pointed affair. Not for Ariadne the small cherubic boy, peeing into a basin. The design was mostly chaotic and made little sense to look at until you realised that the appearance of the thing was not what was important to her. It was the sound of the water running over and through the various channels and shapes of stone that made it important. So what first appeared to be a chaotic series of swirls and channels, made sense only if you closed your eyes and listened.

The other purpose of the fountain was that it acted as a sundial. The hours of the day were carved into the stone around the courtyard so that anyone sitting on one of the many benches around the place could look up, at a moment, and see what hour of the day was currently passing. Not that it was doing that at the moment. It was snowing and looking up, the clouds were still heavy with it.

The weather had started to turn colder the day of my first conversation with Mark and Emma. Rain had turned into hail and then into sleet. But then that itself had stopped and the snow had started falling. And I mean really falling. So much so that I was surprised by it. Throughout most of my life, my winters have been sent in the Oxenfurt area, either at the castle or in Oxenfurt during my period of rebelling against the family.

The relative closeness of the sea and the saly weather air, or so I'm told by people that know more about the weather than I do, means that snow is relatively rare there. Something about the combination of salt in the air as well as the relatively higher temperatures in the winter. Apparently, living near the coast means that winters are warmer and summers are cooler. I have no idea why and although an effort was made to inform me, it was not information that I was properly able to take in.

But there, although snow was not entirely unknown, we would get an inch or two of snow at best. While growing up, there were still stories told about the winter when Sam was nine and I was eight. When the snow had fallen heavily enough that snowballs could be thrown without the danger of small stones and bits of dirt being hidden in the wadded up ice cold weaponry. The memory of that winter was one of those things that we talked about at family gatherings for years to come. You know the kind of thing.

“Remember that winter where it snowed so hard that Father couldn't get into town and we all built snow men in the courtyard.”

I did.

Then I remembered Edmund coming round and demolishing all of our carefully sculpted snowmen and making Francesca cry at the destruction. But that particular aspect of the memory is not something that people like to think about when they are talking about times past through the rosy hue of nostalgia.

But I have now learned the truth. That it is not proper snowfall unless you can measure the resulting drifts in feet rather than inches.

So it had snowed heavily for almost two days straight.

I found those two days to be.... remarkably soporific. It was amazingly peaceful. Astonishingly so. Ariadne does have a small staff. More because a lady in her position is supposed to have a staff rather than because she wanted one. But as well as Samantha and her husband, there was also Samantha's sister (The sister's husband had chosen not to join her in coming to Angraal) a groundskeeper who dealt with those bits of land that were not covered by the herb-gardens and were not, therefore, Samantha's realm.

As well as this, there were two members of staff that helped where they were needed, either in the kitchen or out in the land. There was a groom and a couple of stable-boys. Four others did the cleaning and the serving of food and drinks. The Butler was a man that had served the household of the now, Duke and Duchess of Angraal when they still called themselves King and Queen of Angraal. He made no pretense of hiding the fact that he was placed in Ariadne's household in order to spy on her and to make sure that she didn't do anything that would otherwise upset anyone.

But he had come to respect his new Lady and, according to the gossip, would freely consult with Ariadne as to what he reported to the Duke and Duchess. That side of his responsibilities had long since been relaxed.

It seemed that when the winter had gotten it's grip and the more delicate of the herbal bushes had been protected with nets, blankets and covered in glass. The job of a lot of the staff was to keep the paths clear from the blown snow and to make sure there was plenty of light and flame about. Meaning that there were low metal bowls that were filled with charcoal, wood and oil that were then kept burning to spread warmth and light at all times.

I liked this. Both for the practical applications but also for the symbolic ones. It made me feel as though I was surrounded by small, literal symbols of the Eternal Flame that were kept burning all through the night. And I found that I could sit outside, undercover, wrapped in a blanket and near one of these fires and be perfectly warm.

It was peaceful and in the couple of days following the confrontation with Emma and Mark, I found myself beginning to relax.

This was a double-edged sword. On the one hand it meant that muscles, long clenched were letting go of their tension which meant that I was able to get to sleep far better than I had been able to do for months. But it also meant that this lack of tension in my body was reminding me of all the abuse that I had put the thing through in the last few months. What it boils down to is that I spent a good amount of time dozing and being asleep. That was not as good as it sounded though, because that meant that the nightmares could find me and I found myself keeping strange hours as I fell into the habit of sleeping when exhaustion overtook me and taking advantage of that where I could.

There had been some other changes as well in the time since the family intervention. I had moved my work space into Emma and Laurelen's building. They had a desk moved into the communal area there where I worked. Often with Lady Yennefer in tow as we sat and argued with each other on the final edit of the book on Jack. That was a fascinating piece of activity as it meant that I could see Lady Yennefer interacting with her peers. Or a peer anyway in the form of Laurelen.

I don't know what happened to Lady Yennefer to make her distrust her colleagues in the way that she does but it meant that she automatically found herself on the opposite side to Laurelen in every conversation. She would actively try and pick a fight with the, I would discover, younger and less experienced Sorceress before realising that she was being unfair and blaming Lauarelen for the faults of other people. Either long dead or elsewhere at the time.

It made for a rather uncomfortable scene several times until I once pointed out that both women were actually arguing the same side of the debate. Lady Yennefer stopped mid sentence and seemed to fold in on herself as she considered what had just happened and nodded. Memorably she rose and offered her hand to an astonished Laurelen.

“I apologise,” She said. “I do not apologise often as I am rarely wrong. But in this case I am. I would like us to be friends.”

Laurelen took the offered hand, out of shock more than anything else and Lady Yennefer left saying that she had some things to think about.

They still argue but if I am any judge, it has taken on a more healthy overtone. They argue about magic now, rather than politics of the mundane and magical variety. Lady Yennefer and my sister avoid each other a little bit. I don't know why. Mark is often in his own rooms doing church related things, but he joins us for evening meals. Except on those occasions where Ariadne has invited them all for dinner. Then they all look at me a little with a question in their eyes. Anyone can tell what that question was going to be.

“Are you coming?” The all ask and my answer has been the same.

“Not until we have spoken.” Then they all make slightly judgemental expressions before moving off to eat some of the delicious food that Samantha's sister has prepared.

Samantha's sister is called Charlotte. She and I have already spoken on the matter and she has given me permission to use her name on the grounds that she works for a higher vampire Sorceress and if anyone ever threatens her, meaning Charlotte, then her mistress can eat them.

I did argue that Ariadne doesn't eat people but Charlotte shrugged as though this was unimportant information.

Things were actually a little unfair to me in this regard. I actually wanted to go and see Ariadne shortly after my conversation with my siblings. I just wanted a little bit of time to bounce the idea of setting aside the mission to find and rescue or avenge Francesca around in my head. I wanted to dwell on this a little and see if anything else occurred to me as to what I could do next.

It didn't.

But then one day I screwed up my courage before going to look for Ariadne... and then I couldn't find her.

Finally, I was forced to enquire as to her wherabouts from one of the servants that I haven't had anything to do with yet and he informed me that “The Lady has gone to visit with the Duke and Duchess. She will be back the day after tomorrow.”

The man had a neutral expression as he spoke that conveyed a kind of sense of disapproval while also, rather eloquently, wanting to be cautious in case I really did become his Lord and have the power over his future that such a position would command.

I thanked him and retreated in the face of his disapproval and returned to my reading, writing and thinking for a couple of days.

Then the day dawned when she was due to be back. I would have wanted it to be bright and sunny although logic suggests that that might be the worst option given that sun bouncing off snow can lead to headaches. It was still cold and it was still snowing as the message came to me that the Lady had returned home and was catching up on her business in her study. Again I thanked the messenger and stopped to think.

It was one of those, staring into space kinds of processes where I just looked at a patch of wall for an interminable amount of time.

Mostly what I was doing was trying to figure out what I was scared of. That I was scared was pretty obvious but what was I scared of.

So it was a process. I'm getting pretty good at these processes now. I have to stop and think things through. The first step is to realise that something is wrong. Then it comes down to a series of questions as I try and figure out what's wrong. Including such things as “Am I tired?” or “Am I hungry?” or “Am I lonely?” I was learning that there was also a trap there though. Which was that it's also very easy to end up being paralysed with the questions without moving forward.

But in this case, it was relatively easy. I was frightened of the coming conversation. I was now sure of a number of things. I was certain that I still loved Ariadne. I was also certain that I had never stopped loving Ariadne. And I still wanted to go forward with the wedding. I looked back at the actions that I took in the immediate aftermath of the meeting with Kerrass' Goddess and I do not recognise the man that did those things. He seemed alien to me and it felt a little unfair that I was having to deal with the repercussions of his actions.

I was also encouraged by the fact that she hadn't kicked me off her property yet. Which she could have done really easily and no-one, least of all me would have blamed her.

What I was scared of here, was the unknown. I didn't know how she was going to react to all of this. I didn't know what she was going to say and what was worse was knowing that the only way that I was going to find out, the only way to banish the fear, would be to go and talk to her.

But I was coming to hate these conversations with the people that I loved. Really really hate them. I knew that they were necessary. And I always felt better afterwards. Emma and Mark together had been the worst. The easiest had actually been with Laurelen who had been understanding and had confined the conversation to practicalities and ways she could help with symptoms. But I hated them. I was getting an almost violent reaction to people asking me how I was doing.

So instead, I prepared for the coming interview. I ordered a bath as I was, and still do, still enjoying having scalding hot baths where I scrubbed myself within an inch of my life. Then I dressed carefully.

I have made the comparison before that going out to court is a lot like getting ready for battle. Each item of clothing is carefully selected and laid out. This to ensure that it fulfills all practical requirements as well as makes the right kind of statement as it is done.

Then each piece of clothing is checked to ensure that it is clean and in a proper state to be worn and presented. You would be surprised how often, event the best, cleaners and laundry people can miss a stain or not notice that some stitching has come loose.

Then the clothing is put on, one piece at a time, making sure that each piece was settled properly before moving onto the next piece. A couple of things became clear fairly quickly. The first was that I had lost weight since I had last worn these particular clothes and the second was that I felt desperately uncomfortable.

This time I was successful in my efforts to leave my spear in the room. Although my boot knife, eating knife and belly knife all came with me.

I had tried to dress in a way that Kerrass would approve of. I was reminded, starkly, by the first proper conversation with Ariadne. Not the time where Kerrass and I convinced her not to raise her banner in rebellion against, well, everyone. But the time after that. Where I wore one of Kerrass' last clean shirts and he sent me off like a lamb to the slaughter. Or rather, like a best friend sending a man off to meet the woman that he was falling in love with.

Even though neither of the two people actually falling in love were properly aware of what was going on. I have thought about that moment since then and I have been left wondering if he knew what was going to happen. If he had guessed as to the half-formed ideas that existed in Ariadne's motivations and the way that she was behaving.

And I wonder why he acted on it. I suddenly had an overwhelming desire to actually ask him and talk to him about the entire subject. It was not one of those cliches where, for a moment, I forgot that he was gone and I turned to talk to him. I knew that he was nowhere nearby, but I did feel his lack then.

I missed Kerrass. All the other times that I had gone to have excruciating conversations with Ariadne, he had been in the local area to take care of me should everything have fallen apart.

I stopped at the entrance to my little hut as I let that thought sink in for a moment. This is something else that I'm doing regularly. Filing away these little thoughts as they occure so that I can take them out later and have a think about them. Either over a confession with Mark, or a drink with the family. And hopefully soon, during a conversation with Ariadne.

But this wasn't moving the process on any further.

I took a deep breath and pulled the door open into the cold air.

Ever notice how it seems to be that little bit warmer when it snows rather than just before hand? Yeah, I don't know why it does that either.

But I had taken the preccaution of wearing gloves, heavy boots and a warm cloak anyway.

I found Ariadne right where I expected her to be. In her study.

Yes, I missed that bit out earlier when I described the building so all of those of you who are currently congratulationg themselves on being so clever, then this is the bit where I tell you that you are right. Ariadne's study is not a fixed structure. When it is not in use it is dissassembled and stored in various places. The furniture and the canvas as well as the frame are kept in one of the store rooms while the papers and things are kept in Ariadne's rooms.

Her study is, essentially, a tent that she can move around her grounds and gardens depending on when the mood grabs her. During the height of summer, it is little more than a canopy in order to keep the worst of the sun off while leaving the sides open to allow proper movement of breeze and full views all around. From that most basic of structures come the other parts. There are walls that can be put on all four sides depending on the needs of the protection from the weather, or prying eyes, or to keep the heat in. The frame has hooks and things tor the hanging of tapestries in order to aid insulation and I also knew from our various discussions that there were also several rugs that could be used in order to carpet the floor.

In this, relatively small structure there was a shelving unit which contained various scrolls that Ariadne might need at any time. What these scrolls tended to be were scrolls of accounts and records of her estate. As well as some of the more recent projects that she was working on so that if the fancy took her, or inspiration struck, then they would be close at hand.

Then there was her large desk and chair that varied in states of untidiness according to Ariadne's mood. My understanding was that it was organised into four quadrents. The area directly in front of the chair was assigned to whatever it was that Ariadne was working on at that exact moment. The area to her left contained letters, ledgers and scrolls that she hadn't dealt with or read yet. Directly in front of her were things that she was done with for now, but might need to be worked on again in the very near future and the area to her right which contained completed letters, orders and the like that needed to be actioned by messengers, stewards or secretaries.

There were a stream of new letters and things that would come in on her left as she worked without looking up and the same servants and pages would arrive to take off the completed letters and orders off into various directions in order to be actioned.

The drawers to her desk only contained spare ink, quills, blotting sand and any other things that she might need for her work. Not for her the small pack of clandestine toffee's that you find in the desk of any Oxenfurt Professor.

The structure also contained a large and comfortable couch that was big enough for Ariadne to lounge in and on with several moveable pillows that could be moved around in order to achieve optimum comfort. Along with a side table nearby that always had the book that she was reading at the time as well as the next book ready should she finish the volume that she was reading at the time. There was also a similarly large and comfortable arm-chair nearby for friends or individuals that she wanted to be sociable with but didn't require the formality of her receiving room.

Very occasionally, there were chairs placed opposite her desk for those occasions when she was discussing the estates accounts with her estate manager and the tenant farmers and village aldermen. A place for subordinates to sit although she would never call them that. This as well as people that she didn't want to waste too much time on.

I was very afraid that this would include me in this case.

The entire structure could be moved. I know that she had it out in the fields when she was helping with the harvest and it had been in various different parts of the grounds depending on her moods, how many visitors she was expecting that day and numerous other factors that were not my business.

We had talked about this during one of our long talks and one of the things that she was looking forward to during married life was going to be having me sat in the arm-chair reading as she worked, which I thought was a very sweet and endearing image.

She also enquired as to whether or not I would be interested in a similar set up but I declined. I would want my study, wherever it ends up being, to be inside. Ariadne might like different sights, smells, activity and sounds going on around her as she worked. But for me, distraction is the enemy of work and I prefer peace and quiet as I write. She was fine with this but did suggest that there would come a time during any given day when she would decide that I had done enough work and that she would come and get me.

Why does she have this particular setup? I asked her fairly early on, during that time where she was still in the process of building her complex. She told me something that chilled me to the bone and lets me know that I am not the only person that has struggled with what has happened to me.

I am paraphrasing here but this is what she told me.

“Shortly after I was born, my first home is where the current Duke's hall is in Angraal. But as I got older I decided that the site was not entirely to my liking and I constructed my tower. The place where you found me. Back then I had a strong desire for solitude so I wanted it to be intimidating from the outside in order to discourage visitors and I built it in an out of the way place. Just to make sure that few people would come across it be accident. “When I designed it, I loved that building. It had everything that I wanted in one place. My Lab, workshop, library and study were all there. It was comfortable, more than capable of seeing to my needs and had everything that I could ever wish for. When it was all done, furnished and decorated to my liking I remember standing back and just looking at it. I remember thinking that I could be entirely satisfied if I never left that place again.

“Whenever I left Angraal for whatever reason, that would be the place I would look forward to coming back to. The closed in nature of it. The familiarity and the shelter. But then came the time of the uprising.

“When humans arrived in Angraal, I would alternate my times between the great hall and keep that it was for it's time. I know that it's laughable now in comparison to somewhere like Kaer Morhen or Coulthard Keep, but at the time, the hall and the Throne of Stone were impressive structures. But I would alternate my time between the keep and my tower and I always preferred my tower. Keeping things away from the townsfolk and villagers so that I could have time to myself. Time to just enjoy and not be concentrating all the time.

“Then the people locked me up in it and I couldn't leave it for several hundred years. Not until a certain Witcher and Scholar booted my door down.

“I hate that place now. I couldn't go and live there again. I went back once to see if there was anything there that I could salvage or use to my benefit but there was none and I couldn't leave it fast enough.

“But the thing that I missed most during my imprisonment was the feeling of fresh air. The sounds of the countryside, even something as simple as the wind and the rain in the leaves or the sound of birdsong. Things that I had ignored or otherwise long since stopped noticing and suddenly I was desperate to hear, see and feel it all again.

“That is what this building is about. I will admit, that part of it all is my sense of humour. I enjoy watching people who arrive, expecting the dark and sinister “Spider-Queen of Angraal” in all her cold and austere majesty. Only to find a woman in a summer dress, reading a book in a sunlit garden. But it is also true that I find that I prefer it now.

“Laboratories require cool and dark places to prevent adverse chemical reactions and the spreading of fumes. Libraries need to be kept dry, as do workshops. But a study? I can work and write and meet people and read in the open air just as easily as I can indoors. In doing so, I can feel the sun on my skin, the wind in my hair and smell the rain on the air. A small spell protects the papers from short term damp and as such, my working space is complete.

“Castles and keeps are designed for defense. Outposts of order carved out of the chaos that is the Wilderness. But there is nothing out there that frightens me. I can escape and I keep my people far safer than a castle could. So why shouldn't I enjoy these benefits.

“But there are times Frederick. More times than I can easily think of. Where I need to be outside. No matter the weather or the time of day. You should know this about me because it will certainly have an impact on our lives together.”

I remembered that conversation then as I found her pavillion out in the central garden. The most sheltered place from the wind and the snow although I could see the snow building up on the roof.

There was a fire pot in the tent as well. An addition for the winter it would seem. As I watched, one of the servants checked the level of flames before adding a couple of logs. On top of the pot was a metal grate upon which rested a large pot with a spout. The same servant replaced one of these with another that he had brought, steam pouring from the spout, from the kitchen that he carried with thick and padded gloves.

Ariadne herself sat at the desk, moving the papers that she had received from one part of the desk to another and, very occasionally, onto the fire. To the outside eye, her system appeared to be chaotic, but like a lot of people that are far more intelligent than they allow to be perceived, there was an order to what she was doing. She could probably, almost certainly, lay her hands on any given piece of paper at a time. But unlike some people, she allowed herself to be distracted by the comings and goings of the various servants and pages. She stopped to thank them and discuss things.

I liked that about her. I couldn't do that. If I was in the flow of this piece of work or that piece of work then I resented the presence of servants and the people that were coming and going. But she stopped and thanked the man that brought another pot of the hot drink and exchanged a few words with him. She also spent time talking to someone who came in, a ducal messenger by his livery, and put a scroll onto one of the piles. She handed him a few more from another part of the desk and told him to take advantage of the hot drinks and the presence of a kitchen in order to get something warm inside him before he headed back out onto the road. She herself was drinking from a tiny little cup. The size of thing that dishes out portions of Schnapps or Vodka in the smaller inns and taverns out on the road. But this one was made of some kind of pottery.

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She was beautiful enough to make my breath catch in my throat. She was not dressed in any particular kind of finery. But she was dressed richly. My guess was that she was making some kind of point, being prepared for anything or anyone that might just turn up at a moments notice. The kind of thing where you have to look rich enough that no-one is going to mistake you for a servant, but also not dressed ornately enough as to be impractical should you suddenly need to call for a horse or go stomping through the snow to deal with this or that.

She was wearing a long, greyish blue coat with fur lining at the sleeves and collar. So I guessed that there was fur lining underneath it. The coat was a little more voluminous at the bottom than the kind that the Empress wears in her day to day life but those coats are becoming a fashion now. The coat was high collared in order to protect the back of her neck from cold draughts. Underneath the coat was a thick shirt of some kind although most of that was obscured and she wore a long grey skirt and dark leather boots. She also wore gloves of the same coloured leather as the coat.

The high collar of the coat meant that her hair, tied into a loose plait in order to keep it out of her way and out of her eyes was pulled over her shoulder and down her front. She had a pair of ear-rings on. Some kind of silvery metal if not silver itself. I have never gotten around to asking either her or Kerrass as to whether she is vulnerable to silver on the grounds that it might be insulting, but I also found myself wondering if this was another one of the statements that she makes with most of the aspects of her life. In this case she was saying “Yes it's silver. No it doesn't hurt me. Now is that because I'm not a monster or because I am just so powerful that I don't notice it? I will let you, oh observer, be the judge.”

Either situation is possible. But it's due to a similar statement that she was also wearing a symbol of the Eternal Fire around her neck which she played with occasionally while she was reading a letter or thinking about a response before setting it to paper.

As I watched, she calmly removed her gloves and picked up the pot that the servant had carried with thick gloves and refilled her little cup with a steaming dark liquid. So dark it was nearly black. She replaced the pot and pulled her gloves back on.

As I think I've said. Ariadne is not hurt by fire, heat or cold. She could have sat in the snow completely naked and not see any adverse side-effects. But she would also claim that that doesn't mean that the experiences are particularly comfortable. I found the image a little amusing. That she was wearing gloves against the cold but took them off so she didn't damage them with the heat of the pot.

So again, why was she dressed warmly? Was it a comfort thing or was she saying to anyone that might be watching, including me, “See, I feel the cold too. I am just like you really.”

I have no answer for that.

I stood behind my bush and watched her work for a long while and it occurred to me that I would be perfectly happy just watching her work for the rest of my life. That reserved and gentle sense of placid calm on her face. The occasional furrow of her prow as she concentrated on something. The light of pleasure sneaking into her eyes when she was reading a letter from someone that she liked. The twist of distaste as she read something that she disagreed with, written by someone that she disliked.

She was in the middle of one of those routines when a servant approached me from behind.

“Excuse me sir,” He began, unsure of how to address me as most of them still are.

Other than Samantha who still, occasionally, resorts to “Hey you,” or “Oi. Fuckface.” She says it's just to remind me of who's in charge really. I have only a little doubt that if any dignitaries turned up, her behaviours towards me wouldn't be absolutely pristine enough to ensure that our household wouldn't put to shame even the highest house in the land.

I look forward to seeing her meet Ciri. There's a meeting of the minds if ever I've seen one.

But anyway, servant sneaking up on me.

“Excuse me sir.” He said. “Her ladyship would like to enquire as to whether or not you would like to stop standing in the cold and come and join her in the warm.”

He didn't bother waiting for a response and turned away. I knew what I would find as I turned back and sure enough. Ariadne was looking at me. I sighed and started to wind my way through the snow drifts that had been shoveled aside. As I did so, Ariadne returned to the letter that she was reading and making a note on nearby slate. I stood before her desk in the same way that I remembered standing in front of my father's desk when Sam and I had been caught in some kind of mischief.

“Excuse me Ma'am.” I began. “But are you Milady Comtesse, Ariadne de Angral?”

She smiled slightly and looked up at me. I have no idea why I chose that form of address over any of the others that were available to me but.... there you go.

She gestured at one of the seats that was set out in front of the desk. “Please have a seat, I will be with you shortly.”

I thought I could detect a hint of amusement in her voice behind the formal words. There really was this strange kind of bubble of warmth around the tent and I shivered as the pleasure of warmth returning to a cold body. I pulled my cloak a bit closer around me and sat, looking at the woman that I loved while she worked.

I was still dreading the conversation, but I did feel better for being near her. As I watched, she finished the letter that she was working on. Picked out a black piece of wax and held it near the fire pot before attaching a blob to the bottom of the letter and putting her signet onto the letter. Then she leaned back, resting her hands in her lap and gazed at me steadily.

Yes, her signet is of a spider. She says she likes to keep people on their toes.

We sat there looking at each other for several long moments. Her gazing at me without blinking. Me, barely able to keep my eyes open.

Then she moved.

“Would you like some coffee?” She asked.

“What's coffee?”

“It's similar....” She considered what she was going to say for a moment. “Actually, it's nothing like tea. But it's similar to tea. The Ofieri bring it over. Zerrikania gave us tea, the Ofieri gave us coffee.”

“So if it's similar, but at the same time, nothing like tea. What is similar about it?”

She reached into her desk and produced another one of the smaller cups. There was an absurdly small handle attached.

“It is similar in that you brew it with hot water, it is dark in colour and you drink it hot. Similar in that it artificially stimulates energy and brain function. It is also mildly addictive. Also like tea, it can be rather bitter, especially when you brew it strong which is how it's supposed to be drunk.”

She considered this as well.

“Or at least, it is when I drink it anyway.”

I nodded to show that I was keeping up.

“But because of the bitterness, people can alleviate the bitterness by adding milk and honey.”

“Same as they do with tea.”

“I see that you grasp the basics of the situation. I am quite taken with the drink. I have some honey and milk here in case visitors come to visit but I always suggest that people try it straight before anything else is added. For the first time anyway.”

“Hang on.” I began. “I've played these games before. Is this another one of this situations where people try and get the stupid, but curious, scholar to eat or drink something that is absolutely disgusting as some form of a joke.”

Ariadne did not look up from carefully pouring.

“I don't know what would give you such an idea.” She declared. “I would never play such a cruel jest upon you. After all, what could you possibly have done to upset me?”

I thought I could hear just the twitch of a smile at that last sentence.

“So in what way is it different from tea?” I wondered.

She carefully finished pouring a cup for me and topped her own cup to the brim.

“It is less calming than tea, nor is it as good at purging the human body from intoxicants.” She put the pot back on the fire and replaced her gloves. “It is a good cure for a hangover, or so I'm told although I rather suspect that it is a good mask for the symptoms of a hangover rather than a cure, and can help get a person started in the morning if they are struggling to wake up. It is also brewed from a kind of dried bean rather than leaves.”

“A bean?”

“Yes. They dry roast them before grinding it up. I am exploring whether or not I can grow coffee beans in Angral although the suggestion is that it's possibly too wet up here. Fortunately, Sorcery can provide a way in these circumstances. You ready?”

She lifted her own cup and saluted me with it.

I gazed into the murky depths of the cup.

“I will admit that the smell is rather pleasant.” I said before taking a cautious sip.

Ariadne watched me carefully.

I took some time to consider what I was going to say.

“And that wasn't a joke?” I wondered.

Ariadne passed the pot of honey and milk over. “It is an acquired taste.” She was definitely smiling slightly now.

“It would have to be. How long does it take to acquire may I ask? I wonder because I'm not exactly going to live to be 900 years old.”

“I shouldn't think it would take that long. Personally speaking, this mixture is a little weak for me but the weather means that I can't get a regular supply in. Therefore I have to ration myself.”

“That must be hard.” I had helped myself to some milk and plenty of honey.

“You have no idea.” She said flatly.

With enough honey and milk to make Ariadne wince, the drink was rather pleasant in a warming kind of way.

“So how are things?” I wondered lightly.

She stared at me for a long moment. She does this thing where she just gazes at me. It's as though her eyes are just looking straight through me as she considers me. I always suspect that she's running a kind of tactical thing. Where she plays out conversations, imagining what she is going to say next and then what I will say to that and on and on and on. I don't know why she does it with me but I have a tentative guess that it happens whenever I do or say something that she is not prepared for. Or that is surprising to her.

Sometimes, when I want to feel particularly paranoid, I wonder what will happen when she stops being surprised by me.

“Things are not bad.” She said after a moment. “Having guests for Yule is not proving to be quite the party that I was expecting it to be.”

She kept her tone light and floaty. As though we were two friends who were just catching up.

“But the harvest was pretty good so it looks like I can begin having my lands turn a profit over the next year, and set some land aside for a few experiments with various crops.”

“Such as the coffee beans.”

“Such as the coffee beans yes. The herbal thing is doing quite well but, to be honest, most of the fields are taken up, out of necessity, by various countryside staples. Wheat, barley that kind of thing. We also have quite a few fields that can be used for sheep and goats but are a little too rocky for cows or any other kind of cattle. I want to keep and breed horses as well but there doesn't seem to be enough room for that.”

She grinned at me. “Yet.” I suspected that there might be some things going on there that I didn't understand. A nuance that I hadn't grasped or did not know about.

“The downside to things is that I think I'm beginning to make the Duke and Duchess a bit paranoid again. They're starting to get nervous around me.”

“Why?” I wondered. I possibly sounded a little bit more concerned than I actually was, but it did seem to chime with what I had heard was happening.

“I suspect, deep down, that it's just normal paranoia. I think that they are too used to humans, especially humans from Angral, wanting to take over their stuff and to usurp their position. This is not helped by the fact that I have managed to turn the fortunes of Angral around in a relatively short period of time. I think that they don't know what to expect from me and that therefore they expect the worst.”

She sniffed.

“It's a little distressing, they were my first friends and now I catch them watching what they say around me.”

“You are one of the Lodge of Sorceresses now.” I tried to put in gently. Putting myself in the shoes of the Duke and the Duchess. “Anti-magic sentiment is one of those things that is bred into the bone around here.”

“Along with the natural distrust and hatred of non-humans.” Ariadne agreed. “As well as the fact that, to them and to their parents and to their parent's parents, I am literally the fairytale monster that they are trained to fear and distrust. I am the thing that lurks in the darkness and...”

There was suddenly a sly gleam of humour in her face.

“And I am still an unmarried woman.” She finished. “You would be astonished as to just how much weight that sort of thing has around here.”

“But your general levels of competence must do something to assuage that. Along with the amount of padding to their treasury that you've done.”

“That is true. As is the fact that the local high-Priestess of Melitele thinks I'm amazing due to my resources in being able to grow some of the rarer medicinal herbs. The Bishop of The Eternal Flame also declares how good and holy I am to anyone who sits still enough to listen for long enough. But I rather think that my competence is part of the problem.”

I frowned.

“They see how hard I work and...” She sighed. “I think that my method of working and thinking is alien to them. They are used to ambition. Raw, naked, self-fulfilling ambition. To them, that ambition is always about wealth and personal status. It is not helped that they used to be the King and Queen of Angraal whereas now they are the Duck and Duchess of Angraal. That drop in a title hurts even though it was done for the best possible reasons, by them, in order to ensure their survival.

“Something else that they kind of blame me for. Given that it was the incident of my freeing and your recording of the event that lifted this area into prominence and brought attention to the fact that people round here were still referring to themselves as the Kingdom of Angraal.”

I felt like I should be taking notes.

“But is there not a list of benefits that have happened as a result? Surely their newfound fame and notoriety has brought in things like trade and, presumably, other things that I'm not thinking about.”

Ariadne did smile then.

“Ah Freddie. I love you, but sometimes you really do slip back into being the rather naive young man that first came through my bedroom door on the brink of death. They are humans. They want to blame their problems on other people while taking credit for all the good things that come along. They don't even know that they are doing it.”

She rubbed her head as though she had a headache forming and took another drink of coffee before, with perfect comedic timing, realised that she had already drained her cup and refilled it.

“Don't get me wrong.” She said as she poured herself another cup. “I love them both. Them and their children and if they called on my oath then I would go. They are aware of all the logical reasons for their distrust and they know that it's ridiculous. They are good people, it's just that they are so used to distrust and paranoia that it is a habit that they can't get out of.”

I nodded as I held up a hand to decline a top up of the strange dark liquid. With enough milk and honey, it was not unpleasant but I could feel a strange kind of jumpiness happening in my fingers. A nervous energy that I was not entirely enjoying and the only thing that I could imagine as causing this feeling was the hot liquid that Ariadne seemed to want to consume by the pot.

“There is also the possibility that when you first.... escaped?” I asked.

Ariadne nodded.

“When you first escaped, you were rather dependent on their kindness and good graces. But now you are independent. You have friends at the Imperial Court, the Redanian court and amongst the Lodge of Sorceresses. Not to mention that your best friend is literally a dragon.”

Ariadne grinned at the thought

“But maybe that is getting to them.” I finished.

“It is a thought that had occurred.” She admitted. “I have resolved to spend some more time with them and their family. I have decided that the way to their heart is through their children and as I will certainly be around when their son inherits, I am doing my best to be his friend and become an aunt figure to him. This is helped by the fact that he thinks Fluffy is cute and has asked if he could have one for himself. His mother disagrees.”

We both laughed at the thought.

There was another period of the two of us sitting together in comfortable discomfort. An odd feeling to be sure. We were comfortable in each other's company and everything despite the fact that I still caught myself every so often with the realisation that I was talking to an Elder Vampire. One that I was in love with at that.

But there was also something hanging over us. Something that neither of us were quite ready to talk about yet. It hung over us like a giant weight on an increasingly fraying rope.

“I'm also having another problem that I hope, in the long run, that you might be able to help me with.” She said as she rooted around in one of the drawers in her desk.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I have, increasingly been getting a large amount of correspondence from a certain kind of person that I thought I would run past you.” She came out clutching a large bundle of papers that she held in a fist.

“I have suitors.” She said in the same way that a person might say that they have genital lice.

“Oh?” I felt my eyebrows trying to climb up into my scalp.

“Mmmm.” She did not smirk at me. But I was also left with the distinct feeling that a point was being made here somewhere.

This was not the topic of conversation that was hanging over us. I suspected that this was medicine and I resolved to swallow every single drop of what I needed to swallow.

No matter how bitter it might taste.

Ariadne sat back and started flicking through the letters. “You have commented in your regular articles, which I still read by the way, that you occasionally get letters or suggestions from people to say that what you should do is to throw me to the bed and give me a good ploughing.”

I swallowed. She spoke with a kind of clinical detachment, absolutely no indication about what she thought about any of that. She glanced over the top of the paperwork and one of her eyebrows raised as though she was assessing the impact of her words on me.

The image did, and still does, conjure strange thoughts. Speaking personally, the first thought that occurs is that the only way that such a thing would ever happen would be if Ariadne wanted to be thrown onto a bed and ploughed. After that, I was not adverse to the idea of such an action but the practicalities of the entire affair were a little overwhelming.

Ariadne watched as all these thoughts skittered across my brain before nodding to herself and returning to looking at the paperwork.

“You may or may not be pleased to hear that this sentiment is reflected in some of the letters to me. They suggest that what I need is a real man to give me a good ploughing and that they would willing to take on the burden of such a thing if I was amenable.”

She looked up at me again with enough expression to leave me wondering if she was trying to make a joke, or if she was hiding a smile behind all the papers.

“Obviously they did not say it in so many words?” I ventured.

“Not as such no. In fact they were rather cruder in their language if I'm perfectly honest. Then they tend to go on to making comments about their maniliness and the size of their genitalia that leave me wondering if these people are quite that stupid. From what some of them say, if they got an erection they would immediately have a heart attack or pass out due to blood loss. The sheer amount of blood to get such an organ erect would be... outrageous.”

“Huh.” I said weakly.

“At first I was angry, but then I saw such things for the desperation and arrogance that they were and kept them to have a good laugh at when I need cheering up.”

“Do you need cheering up often?” I wondered.

She stared at me for a moment as I realised that I might be skirting a little close to dangerous conversation there.

“Sometimes.” She said. “After a hard days work arguing with Lady Eilhart and Ida on this topic or that. But it does not do to offend these people so I normally send a politely worded response to say that I am currently engaged and waiting for my wedding night for such adventures to occur. That when those adventures do take place, that I am looking forward to sharing them with my husband. They normally take the hint after that.”

I contemplated this sentence in silence for a moment.

“The use of the word “normally”,” I ventured carefully, “suggests that there are sometimes some abnormal cases that do not work quite as well.”

This time she let me see her smile. “Yes. There are other correspondents that are much more flowery and delicate in their enquiries. I am still a little new to some of these things and don't always pick up on the signals. As a result, I am occasionally trapped into a situation where what I think is someone merely being friendly, actually turns out to be someone sparking up a proposition, or wanting to arrange a tryst.”

I could not fight down the thought that I was being made fun of and so I just accepted my fate.

“How badly have you been dissappointed?” I wondered.

“There was one instance... Ah, here it is,” she pulled out a letter. “Where I thought I was going to a meeting in order to discuss the proper growing of certain plants and flowers that I might use for medicinal or alchemical purposes. This on the grounds that there is always time to learn something new. But it turns out that the rose that he actually wanted to discuss was the rose of my virtue.”

She sniffed derisively.

“A discussion that was supposed to take place at a nearby waterfall. He was most offended when I kept asking questions about the makeup of the rose as well as the genetic properties of such a thing and whether or not the petals could be used as some kind of tea.”

“Ok, now I know that you're teasing me.”

“Not in the least. He claimed that he was actually rather insulted that I turned him down. He made comments about my leading him on and went off in a huff leaving me quite confused. Samantha had to explain it to me later.”

“She laughed didn't she.” I groaned.

“Actually, she was rather angry and suggested that for the benefit of the male gender and on behalf of woman kind everywhere, that I should have.... now let me get this right. She was quite visceral as she spoke. Ah yes. “I should have ripped off his todger and used it to gag him before unspooling his innards and strangling him with them.” She went on to suggest that her first desire was for me to remove his spine and beat him to death with it. I was not aware that her imagination could be quite so...”

“Graphic?” I supplied.

“Lurid.” She finished. “The prospect is laughable of course. I have said many times in public, as have you, that just because I am a higher vampire does not mean that I am more or less promiscuous than the next person. But the criticism that you and I should just get it over with is frankly ridiculous. Your society favours men in that regard, which I've always found a little bit unreasonable. But the fact remains that in order for me to be part of the society that I find myself in, I must obey it's rules. And those rules are that you and I should not have intercourse until after we are married.”

“Much though we might want to.” I joked.

“Precisely. We have come close on one or other occasion though.” She did not see it as one. “In all honesty, when I first suggested that you and Kerrass should come and winter here, I was given thought to wonder whether that was a good idea or not due to the temptation of having you sleep in a nearby room might be rather.... tempting. However, without putting you under too much pressure, I do not think that you are entirely up to it at the moment.”

I said nothing.

“Which is rather my point. On those occasions where one or other of us has been weak, then the other has, fortunately, been strong. But that is not the point. Why would people believe that, because I haven't had intercourse with you, that I would have intercourse with them?”

“It is a poser.” I knew the answer of course. “It might be because they think that they are better than me.”

“Freddie, even at your most selfish and stupid, you are ten times the men that these pustules on the face of your gender are.”

I felt a little better about that.

Ariadne was watching me as she waited for my chuckling to die down. She was quite calm about it. Smiling gently as she watched.

This was it. This was the moment where the conversation shifted and we started to talk about what we actually came here to talk about. I could feel it. In the same way that there is a sense of anticipation just before a fight is going to start. Just before that happens, it's as though everyone just atakes a moment to take a deep breath. The real killers, people like Kerrass, Letho and, I imagine, the other trained killers of the Continent, are the people that don't need that breath.

But this was the moment.

Ariadne finished her drink in the same way that you or I would have a shot of some strong spirit before doing something terrifying. “Rivian courage” they call it although I always thought that that was a little bit unfair.

“So how are things with you?” She asked.

A clever question. But then it would be. One of the reasons that I loved this woman was for her cleverness. A mirror of my question which means that I can say as much or as little as I wanted. But I was here now and this needed to be done. I was struck with a premonition that if I didn't do this now, then the chances were good that I wouldn't do it at all.

“I am looking forward to several things.” I spoke without thinking. “The first is the point in time where I can stop bursting into tears at a moment's notice. The second thing is that I really, really want people to stop asking me that.”

I felt the pull of the tears then as well. Scrabbling at the core of me. Like a caged animal trying to get out. The words came out angrier than I wanted them to as a result.

“We ask because we care Freddie.” She said carefully.

“I know.”

“And, because we care, we are never going to stop asking.”

“I know that too.”

And as I always seem to, I finally lost my fight with the tears. Ariadne did not hug me, nor did she say anything. Anyone else, including Emma, Mark and Laurelen, would figit with the quill on the paper. Indeed, that had been exactly what they had done. Other than Laurelen, who seemed to know much more about dealing with people that have been through some stuff than I had expected.

But Ariadne just sat there and waited for me to finish, watching me carefully.

I fought for control. I didn't want her to see me like this. I didn't want anyone to see me like this but especially not this woman. The woman that I loved. I wanted to be strong in front of her, I did not want to lose that... I don't know.... I suppose it is some kind of foolish male pride that wants us to stay upright and in control when we meet the women that we love.

I hated my weakness and I said so.

“Flame, I hate this.” I said between sobs.

“It's alright Freddie.” She said gently. “For you to know, because I think you need to hear it. It is no weakness to express pain, nor is it weakness to ask for help. I think you should have been told that regularly and often for some time now. I also want you to know, that the reason I am not just taking you into my arms right now is because I worry that it might be overwhelming for you. But Freddie? Look at me Freddie.”

I did as I was told.

“I want to.” She said. “I wish I could take all your pain and all of your worries away. I wish I could and I will do my best to do precisely that, for all the years that we can be together. I love you.”

Like all of her declarations of love, she said it in a flat, almost simple monotone that made it seem all the more... true because of it. When she speaks like that, I have finally figured out, it is because she is doing her best to control her, rather extreme emotional reaction. I have yet to figure out a way to decipher those emotions though.

I looked at her through tear-filled eyes. “I am so, so very sorry.” I said, finally articulating the thing that I have wanted to say.

I saw her nod.

“I've been thinking about that.” She said. “And I have decided not to accept your apology. This because I have also decided that you have nothing to apologise for. You are sick. You have been for some time I think and if the truth be told, I was expecting something like this kind of breakdown when I came to see you in Skellige. After everything you went through there I was honestly surprised that you didn't. It was why I was so keen to come as I thought that that's what I would be doing there. Rather than meeting your friends.”

She smiled at something.

“This has been coming for some time. Since your time in the North with the cult, maybe as far back as Toussaint. Something poisoned your mind there although I wonder at what it was, or whether it has always been there and it was just.... activated in some way. You remind me of a bull charging at a wall. You hurl yourself at the walls over and over again and every time you get to a wall, until now, you have broken it down. Every single time, until Francesca, and now you keep throwing yourself at that wall, coming round it, trying to get at different bits of it in order to break it down but no matter how hard you try, you just can't get the wall down.”

She sighed.

“I love you for trying though. So does everyone else that knows you.”

I nodded and took some time to stare into space.

“But...” Ariadne began carefully after a while. “Just so we're clear. Your illness and injuries are an explanation for bad behaviour. But it is not an excuse. Now that you are properly aware of the consequences of your actions and aware of just what has been done, you have a responsibility to take proper care of yourself and to ensure that this kind of thing doesn't happen again.”

“What if I can't?” I asked, expecting her to yell.

“Can't what?” She asked calmly, because of course she was calm.

“Can't take care of myself, can't tell when this is going to happen. What happens if I don't know if I'm doing it?”

“Then you must learn.” She said. “I will help you if you want my help. Your family will do the same. You have made lots of friends during your travels Freddie. Please, I'm begging you. Let us help you with this.”

“And if I can't do that? Don't get me wrong, I absolutely intend to take the steps that you, Mark, Emma and Laurelen suggest. As well as some other steps that I will learn soon I have no doubt.”

“That depends if it's done deliberately or not.” She replied. “If you do your best and you learn and take steps and backslide occasionally then we will help you. If you avoid this, if you ignore this, then next time this happens, because it will, then next time there will be fewer of us willing to help you get back on your feet. The time after that, there will be still fewer and then, one day you will turn around and there will be no-one to help pick you up.”

“But if you love me...” It was the petty voice that spoke. Out of all of that time, that was the wail that I am most ashamed of.

“It would be because I love you that I would not be able to watch you do this to yourself.” She said, frustratingly calmly. “If you know that I will always be there to pick you up, you will not have any enticement to pick yourself up. And that is what needs to happen here. And I think it's the thing that some members of your family have not quite picked up on yet.”

She went to get herself some more coffee. “The truth of this kind of thing, is that we can tell you all of this stuff over and over and over again. We can tell you about how you should stop travelling, stop looking for Francesca or stop doing this and that. But you won't take it in unless you want to.

“We can forbid you from travelling. We can tie you up and keep you prisoner. But you will escape or lie or find a way to ignroe us. Then, one day, you will be gone to do more damage to yourself.

“We can only help you if you want to be helped. We can only help you if you know that there's a problem. And that you want to get better and fix it. I still love you Freddie. I doubt I will ever stop. But that is the last piece of your puzzle. Unless you want to get better. You won't.”

I nodded, I don't know how I felt about what she was saying, but there was truth in her words.

“Will you hate...” I sobbed and choked on the words at the same time. “Will you hate me if I tell you that I don't know the answerto that yet.”

She smiled slightly. “Never Freddie. I love you. Even if you destroy yourself I will still love you. Even if you drive us all away with foolishness. Even if I have to leave you, because I love you, so that you will learn from what is happening to you, I will still love you. I will love you for ever. For the rest of your life. For the rest of mine and, to all intents and purposes, I live forever.” Then she frowned slightly. “I thought I had made that clear.”

I felt a shocked burst of laughter bubble up as I realsed she was joking

“Let me put it another way Freddie,” She began. “If we marry, and I only get half a Freddie, then I will be angry.” She took a deep breath, “So, do you want to get married?”

I looked into her eyes. That thing that I was still a little afraid of and saw my answer. “Yes. Yes, I really do. I love you. I am so, so sorry.” She nodded and looked at the surface of her desk. I could hear the wind blowing in the courtyard, small flurries of snow coming with it. The wind dislodged some of the snow that had formed on the edge of one of the rooftops and there was a flumpf noise as it fell down into the drift below.

“Alright then.” She said calmly before looking up so that I could see the tears sliding down her cheeks. “Now can I hug you?”

I stared at her, appalled. There was real fear in her eyes, as though I might, even now, say no.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

I still have not seen a Vampire move. All I can say with any certainty is that she made a noise, somewhere between a groan and a moan and I was in her arms as she have crouched over me and wrapped her arms round me. Her tears fell gently and I felt wetness in my scalp.

“I'm sorry.” I sobbed over and over again. “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I know Freddie,” She mumbled just as often. “I know.