10

"Change the narrative," urged Gildyr, reaching forward to seize Valerian's arm. "Do something totally unexpected, that doesn't match what's happened next, every other time. Break the cycle."

The griffin aerie behind them was utterly silent, the nearby people slower than oozing tar. Scents were only detectable when you walked into them, hitting quite hard. The air felt painfully hot and abrasive, but no one and nothing could hear them now. Not even his grandfather. More confused and upset than angry, Val demanded,

"And what if doing so just makes matters worse?"

"Then we've learned something, My Lord, and next time we get to this stage in the cycle, we take a different path… but the point is we have to keep trying, not simply drift along. Not when the current is sweeping us right to disaster. I think…"

Val disengaged, pulling gently free of the druid's grip as Gildyr continued.

"...I think, maybe this isn't the first time we've tried. Something's wrong. Something's broken, Valerian. We're stuck, and that can't be right. You're important. I know that, but somebody else should be with us, too. Only, I don't… I can't…"

Listening closely, Val was seized by a sudden strange thought. He shook his head.

"I've never cared overmuch for cats," groused the high-elf. "Wretched Titania's creatures, every last one of them."

Gildyr stared at Valerian, green eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

"Cats," he muttered. "Cat… you may have something there, Milord. It feels right, but I don't know how to make the idea fit in. It's like a puzzle piece from a different set."

Val was losing his grip on the flow of time all around them. He'd never been able to stop it completely, unlike… somebody else. Now, he said,

"The only cat I know is Speckles, a sly and malicious beast belonging to Beatriz… but I shall think on your words. I am due elsewhere in private, Gildyr. I shall speak with you again before dinner."

And then time resumed normal flow, returning the clamor and reek of the aerie. Cinda stalked over, looking thunderous.

"You did it again, didn't you?!" she accused, glaring up at Valerian. "You went out of time so I couldn't hear you!"

Gildyr, wisely, betook himself to the edge of their floating platform; hands on the silvery railing, looking around at a truly stupendous view.

"Not you, specifically," soothed Val, not wishing to argue with this vexing, prickly, very dear female. "The druid wished to converse unheard, so I slowed time to listen."

Her scowl deepened. Touching his hand, briefly, Cinda said,

"Valerian, don't do anything stupid, please. Whatever his purpose here is, I don't trust him. He's a troublemaker."

Val shook his head again, trying to grasp something very much bigger than just here and now.

"It seems I am fated to always wander from home and do things I shouldn't," he told her, reaching across the distance between them to tuck back a strand of her fuzzy dark hair. "Perhaps, Cinda, I am the one who should not be trusted."

She was silent, leaning into the contact for a moment. Then,

"Whatever you decide to do, I'm coming along, My Lord. Try to sneak off, and I'll find you. My oath, that no prison will hold me. Die… and I'll cross over as well, just to kick your heedless butt-end all over the nether realm."

Valerian laughed.

"Very well. I accept your challenge, huntress," he teased. "Frost Maiden versus Firelord, it shall be."

Wherever they went and whatever befell them, this time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Val hadn't lied to Gildyr. He really did have somewhere unofficial to be, and folk to meet that shouldn't have mattered (but very much did).

After leaving the ranger and druid, he nipped back on up to his living suite. Greeted Katina, then went to the bedroom, where he looked in on Fina. Very fragile, his wife seemed, sleeping with her purple feather-hair loose, and her nightgown rumpled. Pudgy was curled up beside her on the pillow. He looked up as Valerian entered the room. Grinned his wide, ugly grin, madly jerking that foolish curled tail.

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Val scratched the small monster's ears, letting it sniff and sneeze at griffin-scent. Then he leaned down to kiss Lady Alfea, murmuring,

"I am just going to borrow Bean and go down to mid-meal, Fina. Won't be long."

Her eyes half-opened, warm with sleep and with love.

"Lemme… see 'er?" she whispered.

Valerian nodded. The golden bassinet was right to hand by their bed, being tended by fey-lights (those smallest of fairies). Straightening, he turned a bit to reach into as heavily warded a tiny fortress as Starloft had ever seen. If the world had ended, Bean would have floated over the ocean of Chaos, snug in her little gold boat, until something new formed around her.

Val felt the crackle of magical energies as he reached in to pick up his new daughter. Lifted the infant, who was asleep and dreaming. He traced a 'good visions' sigil on her pink forehead, beneath tendrils of golden hair and soft yellow down. Kissed her lightly, then sat on the edge of the bed, shifting around so that Fee could see Bean without having to move.

"Here she is," he said softly. "Safe as houses, and probably wanting a meal, soon."

The baby was beautiful, but then, he wasn't very objective. Alfea cooed over their little one, touching Bean's face and her curled-up small hands. Fee was still sleepy and glowing with joy, murmuring disjointed love-words. The golden fey-lights swarmed all around them, sometimes lighting on hair or flesh, but mostly patrolling.

"I'm going to make off with her for a bit," Val repeated. "Just down to the kitchen for mid-meal, then straight back. My oath on it."

His own manna was still low, but he poured a bit more into Alfea, anyhow. His lady inhaled deeply, lit up and fortified by the added strength.

"Love you," she whispered, smiling up at him. "So much."

Maybe he wasn't worthy of that, but she seemed to think so, and now there was Bean; alchemized from manna and tenderness, pretty and welcome as dawn.

"Somebody has to," he joked. "And it seems you've been stuck with the job." Then, kissing her cheek. "I love you, too."

Alfea's blue eyes closed. Moments later she'd drifted back into healing sleep, smiling. Valerian drew sigils of peace, protection and safety all around her, causing the fey-lights to swirl like glittering pollen on stream water.

That seen to, he carefully shouldered his sleeping wee scrap of a daughter, then rose from the bed. It took him longer than usual to reach ground level, as he had to take the safest, least-crowded route. No gating or misty-stepping. Not with a vulnerable, barely formed infant along for the ride. Things happened in transit, and Val was taking no chances at all.

Got there eventually, reaching the bustling palace kitchens just as the staff were clearing up mid-meal's remains and starting on dinner. Tara Cookie spotted him first, for she missed nothing at all that went on in her realm.

"Lord Valerian!" she exclaimed, unfolding her crossed arms and dropping a clumsy curtsey. She was a half-elf with auburn hair and brown eyes. Another aunt, fathered by Galadin on one of his briefer mortal obsessions. "Oh, and with the little one, too!"

Very soon, Val and Bean were surrounded by servants. By cousins, uncles and aunts, rather. They had cards and birth-gifts, most of them, but hadn't expected to give them so soon, or in person.

As Tara produced a quick meal… simple fare: eggs scrambled with toasted bread crumbs, bits of this and that stirred in… presents were given, and blessings delivered. Everyone wanted to hold "their" little lady.

Val settled down on a chair by the big, scarred wooden prep-table. He'd been down here so often as a young boy, left with the other servants while Katina spent time with her own mortal son. Here, he'd had mid-meal and listened to stories; been passed around from lap to lap, riding a hip or on somebody's shoulders. Here, he was cherished, and so was Bean.

Tara brought him a plate loaded with scrap-eggs, bread and fresh butter. Someone else poured the daybrew. Everyone held the baby, while Val ate and described the events of her birth, assuring his downstairs relations that Lady Alfea was safe and peacefully sleeping.

Then… Well, his mother arrived to give sudden orders for the night's banquet. She was holding her mind oddly, but Val put that down to displeasure at finding him below. He stood up and bowed, drawing Lady Elisindara's attention while the servants scattered, rushing back to their duties.

"Good afternoon, Mother," he said, taking the baby from Donnor, the chief steward. "I am very glad to see you again."

(Bit surprised, though, given her condition. She wasn't as pregnant as she had been, Val noticed. Worrisome, that.)

Elisindara wasn't tall, but she tilted her head back, looking every inch the regal Valinor princess she was. Glanced around, taking in those piled toys and small clothes, his plate of half-eaten servants' fare. Then, in a precise, chilly voice, his mother said,

"We shall speak of this later, Valerian."

For, of course, no emotion, no family tensions were ever revealed before underlings. Her expression might have altered a bit as she glanced at the baby. Not softer, exactly. Just interested.

Then, turning to the silent kitchen staff, Elisindara flicked a perfectly groomed finger, causing a list to appear and unfold in midair.

"There has been a change. Here are the evening's guests, with their order of rank. We fete a prince of the deeps tonight, and all must be perfect."

Tara murmured acknowledgement, curtseying deeply.

"Yes, Milady," replied the chief cook, but Elisindara had already shifted her gaze.

"Return to your rooms, Valerian," she ordered, making ready to go.

Only… he could not let it pass. Couldn't slink off as though he'd been publicly caught in some lurid misdeed.

"They're family, Mother," he blurted. "These are my aunts and my uncles. They've a right to see Bean!"

Lady Elisindara had already summoned a family gate; its edges flaring scarlet with her pent up emotion. Now, she turned her head to regard him. Beautiful, distant and (far down inside) utterly furious.

"We shall speak of this later," was all that she said. And then she stepped through, allowing the gate to pop like a bubble behind her.

Val stood for a moment holding his fretful daughter, in a kitchen gone terribly quiet.

"I am sorry," he said at last, not meeting anyone's gaze. "I just wanted…"

Tara placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"We know, Milord. We've always known… and we thank you for bringing the little one. If there is trouble to come, well… t'was worth it, and halved by the sharing."

Maybe so…but it just wasn't fair.