CW:

Second ever Tretion POV!!!

Discussions of past trauma and abuse.

Furthonois POV/memory at the end wiff violence/assault (tooth breaking).

Mention of future assaults.

I find the Everflame at the outer gate just… glaring at the cold stone door.

“Duchess Raska.” I announce myself as softly as my anger will allow, but I know my headstalks will easily give away my rage to anyone paying even a little attention.

As much as it pained me to do so… I left Lyra with Nelops and Awnya. Because as the matron of this manor I will not have a danger to it or my lovers wandering these halls.

She takes a breath, then turns back to regard me. Spark Flame eyes writhing in barely controlled emotions. Quite a few. Anger, sadness, shame… but at the moment their targets are unknown.

Awnya insisted the Duchess seemed to hold nothing but affections for Lyra… but…

“If you’re to stay in my home, I will know how you’ve hurt my Bound Beloved.” I clutch my staff of soul shredding close. Ready to react appropriately to any response she may give.

Even now, amidst all my own rage and terror and sadness, being able to claim Lyra as alive and here and... and maybe still bound to me once again fills my heart with such joy. But... I will not lose her again. Not to Thendra, not to some horrid godthings, and certainly not to the careless rage of this woman.

Raska’s face twists into one of horror and shame. Any rage she had crumples at my pointed question.

Good. Everflames are temperamental, and one who is controlled by their soulbound flame’s wroth instead of in control of it is a danger to themselves and all within their magic’s rage. Oath sworn to my lover or no.

She turns away. “It was… I didn’t…”

I let her consider her answer well as I channel a little more Amwella into the staff of soul shredding and feel the manor’s bubbles wriggle closer to her ankles. Ready to subdue and drown her in solid Soulwaste if she threatens violence or a cruel word.

“She didn’t tell me she was Fae.” She whispers so softly I have to lean forward to catch her words. “When we were together. And… and I got… I don’t tolerate Fae in my realm. Much less in my home or bed.”

A long pause.

“What. Did. You. Do?” I emphasize every word, letting my creation drink more and more of my offered Amwella as it charges quietly.

“When I found out I got angry. Really really angry. I thought she’d just been… like toying with me and mine. Taking advantage of our kindness and just playing at being… um… Thendra’s thing. Using subtle song-craft to twist her or us or… or worse.”

My stave has reached its full limit now, and growls enticements for me to Reave this stupid girl’s soul from our home.

“I told her to leave and not speak to me again.” She growls. “And then, of all times, she found it within herself to try and talk. I… I lashed out. Expected her to just… heal it all up like all her kind can so easily do.”

This is horrid, unforgivable. But… the phrasing there. That middle part though. It could be nothing but…

“Try… to talk?” I hiss as evenly as I can. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know how she struggles to speak?” She pauses, turns back to face me. “How she could barely get three words out most days? At least um… well Sevy could get more if they were alone, and Wren loved to drag little noises from her in bed.”

I feel my eyes widen, not at the revelation that Lyra has found some comfort in another’s arms. I’m glad for that!

But… but for my lover to be–

“What? My… my beloved was not… She is Fae, Raska. Talking and singing is part of her.”

“She… I never really heard her sing. Only… only that wailing thing from today.” Raska’s spark eyes narrow. “Has she not always had to fight to get words out?”

“No. No she has not.” I growl. “Are you sure this wasn’t just… Some demented command from Thendra?”

“I did when that Reaver’s second told me she was Fae. But now…” She shakes her head. “No. And my lovers agree. It was real and… and caused by something in her past. Some really bad trauma or abuse.”

Headstalks freeze, then wriggle in anger. At… and all the imagining of what could have hurt my beloved so much that she would go from a bubbly girl to… to what Raska is describing.

Too afraid or too hurt to speak and sing. Even among those she believes to be her lovers.

My eyes narrow. “Bulderii told you she was Fae? Why?”

“Don’t know.” She shrugs. “Thendra, the cunt, later said she was trying to keep it a secret. So I assumed her second let it slip.”

I hiss. Very much worried it was not a mistake but a deliberate attempt to hurt Lyra. Isolate her from someone she was starting to love. “But what about her tongue? Was that your doing as well?”

She starts shaking then, even… Well, Everflames cannot cry. But if they could I’m certain she would be burning my carpet with a stream of molten tears. “Not… Not directly. But… It was my fault.”

“Explain.” I demand.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“She… Look, Thendra said she…” Raska looks down to glare at the floor, takes a deep breath. Then says very softly. “She said Lyra did it to avoid the pain of talking to people after I hurt her.”

I feel my vision go a bit… red. Staff gurgles with power but… only sparks a bit without my permission to release and feed. “Lyra did that? To herself!?!”

Raska glances at the stave, noticing the danger it poses. But doesn’t say anything about it. Only…

“That’s what Thendra told me. And… and she didn’t have any reason to lie.” Then she slumps down, sits on the bare carpet. “Look, Tretion I… I fucked up. I ruined a good thing and… and think that Lyra might have decided to stay with me and mine if I’d been better. She was healing and… and with people like her.” Raska winces at those last words. As if she didn’t mean to let them slip.

‘Like her’? Could she mean… But that’s a question for later.

“And what do you intend to do now?”

She sighs, looks off at the wall. “Stick around, make sure nothing comes for her. Would stay if she didn’t have anyone else. But… You both seem to really care about her and know what you're doing. So I’m going to leave when she wakes up.”

“I think that’s for the best.”

“Just… send that other Fae to take me home when it’s time.”

My eyes narrow as I hear a subtle disgust at the word. “Duchess Raska, while you are in my home you will refer to my lover by her name. She bears as much hatred as any other for what the Fae have done to Lyra.”

I don’t wait for her agreement. Simply turn to return to my lover and Bound Beloved.

* * *

I find Awnya curled around Lyra’s unconscious form, a beautiful sight filled with a bubbling of affections but… also a deep worry. Her body both woven around Lyra in protection and love betwixt a deep fear that our beloved would shatter and vanish at any moment.

Lenelope sits close but is only resting a hand on our lover’s shoulder. She glances up to me, a question in her eyes. Do you want me to stay?

I smile and shake my head. “We might be a bit isolated as we determine how best to help her. But, feel free to have the manor get my attention if something arises, love.”

And without a word Lenelope rises, gives me a warm hug, and moves to leave us. Shuts and locks the door as I move to settle on my Bound Beloved’s opposite side.

Awnya wears a smile of such… such… something. ‘All the things.’ as she would put it. One arm twisted around Lyra’s head while the other caresses through her short soft black hair.

I mimic her position, intertwine our fingers and move my spare hand to reach over and touch my lover's elbow as she works. Not to stop her just… just to encase Lyra between us and to add intimacy to the embrace. Headstalks curl down eagerly though. Dance with Awnya’s fingers as they wiggle down to nuzzle into Lyra’s hair.

And suddenly Lyra lets out a… a soft rumble? A sort of… pained hissing gurgle. The sound of a mix between a snake’s hiss and a girl’s growl.

I freeze. Suddenly entirely unprepared and… and dreadfully anxious at what may come next if Lyra awakens now.

Remembering how panicked she’d been when I’d found and cornered her in the Manor’s vault. So scared at finding me alive and well that she’d somehow escaped past impossibly strong Riftwards to escape.

But Awnya simply coos love and care down into her in a quiet melody of Fae song, and soon Lyra is settled.

“She’s done that a few times.” Awnya murmurs without letting her smile falter. “But… Still hasn’t woken up. Not even a little.”

Awnya had given a brief retelling of what she found as her and the Everflame came stumbling through the manor. Of… of Lyra’s path through the Rifts and eventual horrid wailing. And of what lashed out from her now very small cracked soul.

I… I don’t know what that means. Both my hypotheses are incredibly unpleasant and horrid. I’ve already prepared our Manor to act quickly and deftly if such a thing looks to occur. To protect both my lovers and myself from what sounds like a type of ravenous soul feeding.

A long pause before she can bring herself to ask, smile becoming more pained. “So… How bad?”

How badly did Raska hurt our lover?

I place my first small kiss of ten years amidst my bound beloved’s hair, and mimic the gesture onto Awnya’s fingers. “She… I… It seems Lyra might have been fairly non-verbal long before Raska’s cruel and stupid actions drove her to… to finally just…To bite out her own tongue.”

Awnya’s eyes go wide, then she jerks down to stare in such worry at our lover. Eye’s bubbling with tears as she just sits and stares down at her for a while. Brushing fingers through our lover’s hair before finally whispering. “I… Tretion, I’m going to give her everything I am for… for as long as she needs it. But… But I don’t want you to… to think that I don’t still adore you and love you and…”

Her words trail off as amber gold flits up to me for a second, and I’m glad that my nod and smile seems to calm whatever ridiculous worry she had there.

“Of course. Awnya, you are still my lover and one of my most treasured souls. And you delight in my Bound Beloved as much as I do.” Snuggling closer to them both, I let my words drop to such a soft and probably pained whisper. “I failed to be enough for her before, and it fills me with… with hope that she has you here now as well. She’ll…” Finally a choking sob hits me then, furious tears spilling forth as I nuzzle Lyra with another kiss. “Awnya, she is going to need so much of both of us for a very long time, I think.”

My Fae lover leans out to rest her head against mine, and we spend the night murmuring love and affections to each other alongside how we intend to help our lover heal.

* * *

“Um… Delvia?” I murmur, staring at the setting sun, the day’s pestering worrying finally clarifying. “Isn’t… isn’t home the other way?”

I sit among her and the three guards in the back of a carriage pulled by big glossy scaled centipedes, and ever since we awoke in the morning my mistress's first guardian has become… distant. Cold, and… and a little curt.

I was terrified she was angry at me for enticing her into all the lovemaking. Worried our Mistress would find out and be displeased. But… she assured me it was wonderful and that she knew for certain our mistress would not mind.

And as a cold trickles down my spine, I think I understand why.

She’s taking me to the horrid god of Theradas.

Delvia doesn’t look at me, just stares off into the sands as we move down the dusty path.

“B– But…” I stammer, breath growing quick while my voice twists. The shiftings she wished already pulled my tone to be very young and soft.

She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “It is beyond me to change this.”

That’s it?

That’s… that’s all!?! Just… just accept the pain and death and ravaging this cruel god will inflict on me!?!

“NO! Just…” My voice goes shrill and angry. “Let me… let me fix this! Find out why she’s doing this and–”

My mentor would be so upset if she could see her little Keshada scream like some unbroken pillow slave. But Delvia is ignoring me, reaching down, pulling out–

I nearly hiss at her when I see the slave gag.

“Either quiet and calm yourself, or I’ll put this on you.”

I do hiss then, low and angry and like I never thought possible.

That surprises Deliva. Makes her freeze in sudden fear and… I slither and wiggle, channel all my focus into… into height and speed and… and… I’m seven feet up.

More than I’ve ever thought possible! Soul screaming in joy and… and such furious focus as I dart up into the sky! Delvia and the guards are yelling something. Shouting and demanding and… but it doesn’t matter!!! I can do this! I… I can fly all the way back to her! Just… just keep my focus and… and…

Amwella shudders, and a sudden weariness begins to settle over my body. Then my soul.

And now the ground is fast approaching.

I slam down into the dry sands barely a few dozen feet from the carriage. A sudden horror crashing into my mind. Wh– What have I done!?!

I… I ran!?!

The first guard reaches me as I wriggle and twist around. Sobbing and wailing apologies as their hand reaches out for me. I was groomed to be better than that! Women of the Six Ways don’t run! We… We know our place and love what we’ve been molded into!

She grips my collar. Then slams her gauntleted fist into my jaw.

How… How could I…

The blow sends my head lolling to the side.

Just… just lie still. Don’t curl up. Don’t try to crawl away or cover yourself.

Then… the ground is hitting me too. And before I can recover the woman is straddling my hips and striking me twice more. Harder and harder and–

I know better than to hide my face. Have to… to take my punishment or invite more.

Barely notice the shouting from the carriage or the shattering of my teeth. Like… like a good slave I wait for the pain to stop when it pleases my betters.

“–ould gut you here and now!” Deliva is roaring.

I twist and feel more tears fall at her anger but... then notice that she's not shouting at me. Her glare and fury is aimed at the guard looming over?

“She ran, what does–”

A loud thud, and the woman is sent sprawling by a heavy and horrid blow from my Mistress's first guardian.

“She’s a gift to the bloody god of Theradas you fool!” Deliva all but roars. “If we deliver her to them damaged we’ll be lucky to die quickly!”

Then… then she moves over to kneel at my side. Strong arms wrap around my tail and shoulders. Lifts me into a more intimate and careful carry than I deserve. Even... even murmurs a few soft nothings to help me calm and still my sobs. After we’re settled back in the carriage Delvia takes a long time to examine my face. I fight so hard to avoid whimpering or… or flinching as she touches the cracked scales and pulls my mouth open to remove the bits of broken teeth.

“How fast do you heal, Furth?”

A… a pet name. Not one I like them using. Especially not… not here. Not after hurting me.

“I’m not sure.” I whisper. Voice sounding… wrong. Still shrill but… but deepening a bit. Probably just cracking from fear and horror. “When I burnt my tail badly years ago It was better in a day.”

Delvia sighs heavily. “Slavegod's mercy. That... Good. Good.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” I whimper. “I… I just…”

Delvia stops me by cupping my good cheek. Murmurs so softly. “Make a deal with me.”

My brow furrows, but… I nod.

“Pretend we’re going back home.” She stares so hard into my widening eyes. “Be a good girl, and I’ll keep the gag put away. Treat you like the groomed treasure you are until Theradas.”

I… I don’t… But… Treat me well until… only until…

“Can you do this? Not for me, but… but for you?” Her voice goes so quiet, and I see now that she hates this too. But… but her purpose is not to decide my road.

I can’t help but turn away from her then, but… she lets me. Waits patiently as the carriage bumbles on. Toward what will be my horrid and painful death. A few tears fall, but… but I nod.

Knowing that my only choices now are to fight and make this journey miserable as they gag and bind my form. Or… or ignore what lies ahead and enjoy the little comforts Delvia will share with me.