Private Tales Flares

[Fiadh]

She never used to have bad dreams. Before leaving Delbhna, before Liath, she only ever had good dreams or (more often than not) none at all. Yet these days all she seemed to have were nightmares and strange dreams. At first that’s what they had felt like: dreams, nothing more.

The pull was new. Or, rather, it had been months ago. At first she’d thought Liath had done something incredibly stupid, but he was still off doing his own thing after… Well. After. And for once, Fiadh wasn’t bothering him -- didn’t want to. But that stupid feeling was like an itch in the neck of her gown. It was always there, always plying for her attention. It seemed like the sort of thing Liath would make to annoy her, as he was endlessly annoying her.

But when she’d turned her mind to acknowledge it, she knew it wasn’t Liath. So, then, what was it?

She’d walked rather than flying or riding the leys. Why, not even Fiadh knew. Perhaps it was a sinking sense of apprehension as she drew closer to the source of her discomfort. Like a beacon she could see through the veil -- a pinprick of light that was glowing stronger every day for weeks, months. It made her chest warm and her stomach sick. Her knees felt weaker and her hands shook.

The closer she came, however, the better the dreams got. Sunshine and water, the smell of fruit and flowers, a warm, tight embrace. Something was changing, either in her, her proximity to the thing, or the thing itself.

This was how Fiadh found herself standing beside a river months after the dreams had begun, emerging from the thick forest in search of something she didn’t understand, on what felt like the most ridiculous quest she’d ever been on.

Even Fiadh, who wasn’t an expert on wards, could tell that, even though she was looking at nothing but a sea of uninhabitable, jagged rocks, she was also looking at something much, much more. She could progress no further, prevented by the nagging sense of there is nothing here. It would have felt fine to go around another way. Or it would have if her something wasn’t right in front of her. It was here, in this place that wanted to be nowhere.

She lifted her hands and could feel the static of magick reaching out to her palm. Wards. And pretty good ones at that. Fiadh tipped her head curiously. It was the perfect day out, the sunshine following her like always. She pinched the beams of light pouring around her, and the sunlight bent and narrowed to a point in front of her. It landed on the ward like a spotlight on a wall halfway across the sea.

Fiadh smiled and her eyes glittered as she looked between, the veil parting and the threads of the ward becoming visible. She wasn’t great at wards, but her parents had done their best to educate that out of her. Still, she wasn’t skilled enough to break this one, change it, or trick it.

She was, however, strong enough to shove her way through. All she needed was an opening.

So she made one. Fiadh pinched the air again, her magick grabbing the ward’s threads and pulling them apart. Her mind strained and the threads glowed under the tension. She shifted into her hummingbird shape and zipped forward as a tiny hole in the ward opened just big enough and just long enough for her to fly through. It snapped shut behind her, and Fiadh hovered in the air, awaiting some kind of backlash.

There wasn’t one, only the distinct sense that she didn't belong here. Whoever had made this ward would know she was here now. Fiadh turned back toward her something to ignore the unwelcoming feeling and make a hurried search of the sea. She stopped again.

It wasn’t an empty sea at all, but a lush, beautiful island. Not just an island, a city. Fiadh flew across the river and landed among fruit trees in full bloom. She shifted back, looking around in awe and reaching up to touch the flowers. Not magic; these were real. All of this was very real, yet magick seemed to touch every part of it.

Who had made this place? She didn’t think she would have to wait long to find out. Until the maker of the wards appeared, Fiadh began to casually wander through the orchard, enjoying what could easily have been one of the most beautiful places she’d ever been.

---

Lorcán • Maeve​

 

[Lorcán]

He'd never get used to that abhorrent, crawling sensation of one slipping through his wards. He'd been in the depth of sleep when it woke him, his dark eyes snapping open and his muscles tensing, ready to move. In an instant he was out of bed, stumbling into loose, black breeches as he rushed toward the balcony and dove from it, a ripple of air around the perimeter of the bedroom as he left, the ward permitting none but himself entry, though Maeve - as much as he hoped she wouldn't - could leave if she wished.

Great, raven wings spread and caught him in his fall and his eyes scanned the ground. It didn't take him long to spot the red headed woman wandering unannounced through his gardens. His wings tucked in at his back, sending him diving toward the ground only to catch him with only a few feet to spare, beating hard at the air so that he alighted in front of her in a gust of wind and shadows.

"You know, it's rude to tamper with another's wards..." he commented, his voice gritty and half growled in irritation. His wards were pristine, the island was well hidden, and so how had she found it without his invitation? Asking would only highlight that somewhere, he'd made a mistake, and that wasn't something he wished to draw further attention to, nor was the fact that he'd gone to so much trouble to hide something in the first place.

"Who are you?" he asked, his wings brushing the soft grass as he took a step closer to her and shadows danced across his bare torso, seemingly avoiding the silver handprint on his chest.

 

[Fiadh]

The orchard was peaceful. A soft breeze tussled the branches, sending petals raining down. They drifted down to land in her curly tresses and on her gown. Fiadh picked one up between slim golden fingers to inspect the shape and color, pressed it to her nose. The fragrance was everywhere, almost nauseating in its magnitude. Almost.

She didn’t have to wait very long. The breeze rose and the trees hissed loudly. Fiadh looked up as a shadow descended from the sky. Not just the shadow, either. A fae. The wind whipped the petal out of her fingers and swept her hair over her shoulders, but she turned to face it with a curious crease in her brow. Not yet hostile, but definitely threatening.

As the figure obscured by shadows became more clear, two things were immediately apparent. First, that this fae was duanann (and a roguishly handsome one at that). Second, that he was not her something.

Her companion was not here for small talk, and she could understand that. She had, after all, just broken into something he’d taken pains to hide. Fiadh clasped her hands and bowed deeply.

“I am the golden laurel of the Green Court, the Áine.” She rose and, standing proud and straight, smiled brightly and met his eye. “My name is Fiadh Sihrieac. It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Her Court was an outlier -- one of the heretic Courts of Summer that had become independent during Queen Norra’s rule during the most recent faerie wars. She did not expect him to recognize her or her title or her Court since she and her kind had lived behind wards similar to his for millennia while they played god to the locals.

“Forgive me for coming unannounced. I believe you may have something of mine and I was not aware that what I was searching for was here. Or that anything was here, frankly.”

She looked around again, still in awe of the place. Her eyes scanned for the thing pulling her toward it. Her gaze naturally settled on a hill, on a home she could see peeking between branches of blossoms. Fiadh's smile widened and she sighed with relief and happiness. She temporarily forgot about the duanann in front of her.

It was here. It was real and whatever it was, it was here!

 

[Lorcán]

His cautionary posture eased to something less aggressive and more scrupulous as the woman bowed and smiled at him. Her introduction caused his lips to press into a thin line and a throaty sound of disgruntlement to scrape at his throat.

"Prince Lorcán of the Autumn Court." he answered in a sound of breathy boredom, though he dipped his chin in acknowledgement. He was still too tired and cantankerous for pleasant formalities. His dark brow rose and he folded his arms across his chest, the thick threads of shadow slowly slithering back under his skin.

"Something of yours?.." he asked incredulously. He understood the tether one felt to things of personal belonging, but how something of hers might have found its way to Endora, he was perplexed to consider. Then again, it would explain how she'd found her way her, if she'd been following said tether.

"What exactly is the something that you're looking for, perhaps I can help you find it.." he huffed quietly and forced a tight smile.

 

[Fiadh]

Fiadh's surprise was apparent. Lorcán? The Lorcán?! Her eyes gave him an unabashed sweep and she half turned away from him, smiling in surprise and her hands catching a curl to twist in her fingers. What a find! She knew he had been too handsome to be nobody. The Prince of the Autumn Court. Which meant…

She looked around the garden again. Oh, she had found something she wasn't supposed to. This quest was now a lot more interesting. It also called for far more delicacy.

"Something of mine, yes," she repeated, far more confident in tone than she honestly felt. His offer of helpfulness, however, underscored the whole conundrum.

"Well that's the problem. I'm not quite sure what it is," Fiadh confessed. She curled a finger around a gold lock of hair and grinned sheepishly. "I have been having dreams about it but I can never see what it is. I can tell you it is warm like sunshine. It's happy today. It feels like it is gold, or at least orange? And… it might be about this big?" Fiadh released her hair to make a circle with both hands, then frowned. "Then again, no, probably not. I think it's growing."

Feeling more than a little crazy, she pointed toward the house. High, at the uppermost windows.

"I know it's definitely up there."

 

[Lorcán]

Lorcán understood the recognition of his name in her expression, not that she tried to hide it. It didn't surprise him, all fae knew of his father, and those who knew of his father generally knew of him, not that he'd exactly made an exemplary name for himself.

"Mh.." he mumbled querulously, his arms unfolding so that he could slide one hand down his face in mild frustration as she claimed not to know what she was looking for. He'd been about to say something to the affect of his bemusement when she mentioned dreams and his expression paused, leaving him staring at her blankly for a moment as she explained how they'd felt to her.

"There is nothing up there of yours." he answered a little too abruptly as she pointed toward his home. Maeve's home. All fae knew how important it was to keep their emotions in check, less others scent a spike of adrenaline or hear a pitch in pulse, but he had been having more than a little trouble in keeping himself composed as of late and right now his body screamed at him to drag the female from this island and dump her in the ocean. His heart was hammering a warning in his chest and he could not calm it, nor could he stay the shadows that reappeared around his feet.

Lorcán rolled the tension from his shoulders. "You should turn back." he frowned.

 

[Fiadh]

Fiadh slowly regarded him, measuring his quick answer. Too quick, too insistent. Her gaze took in the shadows which were now returning and the stiffness in his stance. Turning back to face him fully again, she casually dropped her hands to her sides. Her posture was less telling than his, but nonetheless deliberate. She was now grateful for the distance that remained between them.

He was hiding something? Of course he was hiding something; people didn’t keep banal things behind so many wards. This place wasn’t trying to hide because he didn’t give a shit about it. He hadn’t been concerned until she’d pointed at the house. Which meant that her something was there, and...

“You know what it is,” she ventured. Her smile hadn’t returned. “I’ve come a long way to find this, Prince. I’m not here to steal from you, but I will not be turned back so easily.”

 

[Lorcán]

Lorcán's wings ruffled, his voice sonorous as distant thunder. "No." he answered. It wasn't a lie, he suspected that it had something to do with the dreams that Maeve had been having, though he could not be certain. Still his skin crawled with the discomforting sensation that Maeve was somehow involved, that she was somehow the something that this female claimed to own. His gaze darkened.

"And I have worked hard to protect this place, Fiadh Sihrieac of the Áine. My hospitality only stretches so far to those who trespass on my home, and so I will turn you any which way I please. If you are not here to take what is apparently yours then why do you seek it at all?" his head tilted and slowly shook.

 

[Fiadh]

No? She was not accustomed to the word. It made her temper flare, kept in tight check if not for her pursed lips.

“Because whatever it is, it’s been reaching out to me. Night and day, it is always tugging at my mind. I didn’t lose anything and didn’t make anything, yet I’m plagued by its signal, and it led me here. That seemed like an invitation to me, whether you meant it or not.”

Fiadh gestured up the hill and, taking in a deep sigh to steady her temper, a plea crept into her voice.

“Look. I obviously have no idea what you’re hiding and nothing but the word of a stranger to convince you I’m not here to take it. But if that thing means anything to you, sending me away isn’t going to be the end of it. Whatever it is, I can only assume it’s going to keep sending me these dreams and I want that to stop. If your hospitality can extend far enough for me to see your thing, then I can give you my word that I will not steal it away from you. Let us be allies and not adversaries.”

There. Diplomacy to combat that dreadfully harsh refusal. She would be a nuisance if he kicked her out now. Fiadh would be as civil as she needed to be or as ruthless as she needed to be. Either way, she was going to see the thing and relieve herself of these pesky dreams.

 

[Lorcán]

His dark-gold eyes narrowed a fraction at the little idiosyncrasies that betrayed her ire at his answer, even before she spoke. He drew in a long breath as he done her the courtesy of listening to her despite the urge to cast her out without another word. Yet he couldn't deny that what she said had sense to it. If his suspicions were correct, the recurring dreams that Maeve was having were linked to this female - but it was the claim she seemed to have made on his mate that bothered him.

The breath he'd held tumbled out in a growled huff, his fingers digging into the meat of his palms as he balled his fists. This was their home, he'd said. Theirs, not his, and so the decision was not his alone to make. And if it had to do with Maeve, he knew how pissed off she'd be if he didn't at least give her the option of speaking to her.

Lorcán grit his teeth, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he bowed his head. "Since you asked so nicely. I will permit you into my home, find the thing for which you search. But you will not claim it as your property. You will not take nor plot to remove it from its current home and as it is currently in safe keeping, it will be treated with care and respect." he frowned, and held out a hand.

"Do we have an understanding?"

 

[Fiadh]

Fiadh pursed her lips again. She crossed her arms and one finger curled against her chin as she pondered these terms. Not ideal if she decided that she did want to take her thing home. There was some wiggle room in it, but not much. It only seemed natural that the son of the Erlking might be discerning in his dealings.

So be it. She'd cross that bridge if she came to it. Still...

"If events transpire so that I cannot immediately stop these dreams and should this thing remain in your possession, so long as I exercise the utmost discretion regarding your secret paradise," she countered with a gesture to the orchard in which they stood, "then I shall be permitted to visit it again in the future."

She tipped her hand palm skyward and shrugged in suggestion, a coy smile playing across her lips. It didn't hurt to add a failsafe that assured she could return.

Fiadh extended her hand but did not take his.

"If so, then I agree to your terms."

 

[Lorcán]

His eyes rolled. Of course she would come here uninvited and still have conditions to his deal that allowed her into his home to seek the thing she'd come to find. He pondered her terms with a huff.

"You may visit the Island so long as you come peacefully, but that doesn't extend to my home. You may only enter my private quarters when permitted." he frowned. He wasn't leaving an open invitation for her to come sauntering into his home whenever she felt like it.

"If you agree to that, then I agree to your terms." he offered, dearly hoping they wouldn't be stood here all day making terms.

 

[Fiadh]

One final caveat regarding his home. It seemed like an obvious thing, requesting that she be a proper, polite guest, but he was quick to make it a binding part of their agreement. That only fed her curiosity more.

"Of course." Fiadh’s smile broadened and she nodded, her billowing curls following the curt motion and spilling around her shoulders. She reached to grasp his hand.

“This is satisfactory. I agree to these terms, Prince Lorcán.” Pacts with fae were always powerful thing. Between two duanann, their word was as good as any legal contract. Better, in fact. The promise alone was far more binding than any scrap of paper dotted with ink would ever dream of being. It thrummed in the air, the flow of magick between their palms linking them together in conditions they’d now both have to honor.

Fiadh released his hand and clasped hers in front of her as she danced between feet in giddy excitement. It took a lot of effort to look at the prince when all she wanted to do was sprint away to her mystery and see it -- to hold it, to know it. In this peaceful orchard, she was suddenly very restless and impatient.

“Can you tell me about it? The something, I mean?” she asked.

 

[Lorcán]

The magic of the pact spread from where their hands clasped, up his arm and throughout his body, reverberating along his bones and causing his muscles to shudder. He had never much enjoyed making such agreements, it was something that took careful practise to ensure that there were no chinks in the armour, no vulnerabilities that could be exploited without recompense.

Lorcán's eyes fell to narrow on the markings that bloomed on his shoulder, vines of buds and berries that crawled onto his chest. His shoulders rolled and he made a throaty sound, seemingly already quite irritated by the inconvenience of what ought to have been a quiet morning.

"No." he answered bluntly. "I said you could find it. I'm not sure if my assumptions are correct." He hoped they weren't. "We will both know soon enough." he sighed, his large wings spreading out in a stretch.

"I'm also assuming, that since you made it here, you can manage the ascent." he smirked dryly, and with a single beat he was in the air.

He alighted in the courtyard, the large, vine covered doors opening for him as he strode up the stairs. "We have a guest." his voice echoed in the foyer, certain that whomever needed to hear him would hear him. "And we'll have refreshments in the lounge, please." he asked. "And please wake Maeve and invite her to join us."

 

[Fiadh]

The magick prickled up her arm to her shoulder where she felt it unfurl in little ringlets of warmth. The edges of leafy vines laden with berries peeked out of the wide collar of her gown. Fiadh grinned. A promise written in magick, not ink.

Then there was that awful word again. No. She had not known him for ten minutes and she was already getting the impression it would be a word he used a lot with her. Regardless of his churlish manners, he was still leading the way to the thing. It would be up to her to tell what it was. A little test, but one she knew she couldn’t fail. She could feel it up there in the house, a beacon of warmth and promise. She was unspeakably nervous now, but kept that carefully hidden.

Fiadh shifted to a golden hummingbird and flitted along behind him. Not too closely, and her little head swiveling this way and that to take in the sights on their way up. Invited, she passed any protection around the home and shortly landed behind him in a courtyard and shifted back. With petals from the orchard still in her hair, she turned in a circle and looked around before following after him.

“You have a beautiful home, Prince Lorcán,” she observed as she pranced up the stairs behind him. “Who is this Maeve I will have the pleasure of meeting?” Surely the prince didn't have a wife or a child. Since crossing into the mainland, she'd only heard how much of a rake he was.

 

[Maeve]

The garden was in full bloom today. Deep violet aquilegia sat alongside pink dahlia's and deep russet magnolia's. Among their stems were tiny sprigs of snow drops and luscious green leaves or ferns to break up the sea of colour. She bent to... no... flew to smell a tulip the exact shade of her hair, her wings beating a thousand times a second in order to hover there and admire the delicate symphony of notes...

"Miss..."

Her brows creased - no, that was wrong, she was a bird how could she frown? Where had that voice come from?

"Miss."

A hand gently shook her from her deep slumber and she screwed her eyes up tight without bothering to first open them. She wanted to stay in that garden. Something about it had felt like home but it hadn't been on Endora. Had it been from the Isle? She couldn't remember....

"Your highness, someone's here," Ravanna's voice finally broke through her thoughts and forced her to open her eyes. The female puca was wringing her hands anxiously and glancing out the window in the direction of the wards that sat at the edge of the city. How Maeve knew that that was where she was looking she didn't know except that that was where she felt a pull too. Lorcan. Scrambling out of the bed in a panic she wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth and cast around for him. His absence along with Ravanna's clear concern was enough to send her into a panic.

"Who? Where's Lorcan? Ravanna? Ravanna!" Now it was her time to stand and shake the puca who turned to her with wide eyes.

"I saw him leave and then wards went up around the house..." Maeve cursed her dreams for keeping her so deeply asleep and quickly rushed to put on clothes.

"You should have woken me up sooner," Maeve berated herself for snapping but now she was worried. The only reason Lorcan would have put wards around the house was if someone he didn't know was in Endora. Had Midir decided today was the day? She wouldn't wouldn't let him face that alone no matter what he said. She was about to drag on some of the harem pants she favoured wearing when the puca was suddenly thrusting out a dress towards her. Mae raised her brows.

"I'm not letting you meet any guest as His Highness' mate dressed in those," she pointedly looked down and sniffed. The young woman's cheeks coloured. "Sit," the puca demanded and with a sigh Maeve sunk into the chair.

* * *
​

The Goddess only knew how long it would have taken her to get ready if Ravanna hadn't woken her up when she had and had still insisted on dressing her in the way she believed a woman of Maeve's position should be dressed. As it was, it wasn't long after the two had gone into the lounge before Maeve appeared dressed in a green gown fit for any royal princess. Corseted, it swept off the shoulders but still possessed long gauzy trumpet sleeves that glittered with a golden thread. Her hair had been left half down, the rest gathered up and fixed in place with delicate little clips that looked like butterfly wings. The puca had outdone herself and it was a shame that was all the woman could control about her new Princess. Her decorum would have most certainly been another thing she would have ironed out if she could.

As it was Maeve's eyes went first to her mate and then swept to the guest...

Maeve's face drained of colour.

She had never met Fiadh of course but her profile was imprinted all over her Isle. She was, after all, their Goddess.

It looked as though she was caught between fainting and dropping to her knees like she had been taught to do all those years ago.

"L-lady F-Fiadh..."

 

[Lorcán]

"A Princess.." Lorcán rumbled vaguely in response to Fiadh's question.

The lounge was spacious and bright, with large windows that over looked the Island and seas beyond, the tops of which were stained in arcs of autumn leaves. The room itself seemed to have been cornered by four large oak trees, its boughs and branches twisting up into the ceiling and twinkling with the countless candles that hung in colourful jars amongst the leaves that never fell.

A fire roared in an opulent fireplace housed in the knotted roots of one of the trees and the furnishings were soft furs and fabrics. Lorcán shrugged himself into a black shirt that had been so conveniently left hanging over one of the large armchairs, and uncorked some fruit wine which he poured into three glass goblets.

He'd remained quiet, trying instead to calm his mind as he waited on his mate's arrival, though when she did arrive looking the way she did, all concern was briefly wiped from his expression only to be replaced with a boyish gape in awe. She really did become more beautiful each time he looked at her.

He swallowed the dryness in his mouth and cleared his throat.. "Maeve, this is Lady Fi--" he cut himself off, his brow furrowing as he looked between them in confusion.

"You've met?.."

 

[Fiadh]

A princess? So it was a wife or a daughter! Or a sister that Midir had hidden from the rest of the world. A sister or daughter seemed far more likely than a mate or a wife.

"How delightful." How horrible it was going to be to never tell anyone about this.

For being a secret house in the middle of nowhere, Lorcán's home was everything she expected and then some. Lavish, beautiful, spacious; it was not very different from the illuminated halls of her old home in Delbhna.

Fiadh would never have admitted to anyone the slight pang of homesickness. A bittersweet sorrow for a place she hadn't expected to miss. She just as quickly shrugged the feeling away, gone from even her own mind. Instead, she watched Lorcán slip his muscular arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Her gaze politely drifted away before he noticed to look upward at the colorful lights.

She had not yet perched on a piece of furniture when the doors opened and a woman entered. Fiadh turned with an eager smile to greet her, but the smile was immediately washed from her face.

Both women stared at each other. Why this stranger paled in the face of another duanann, Fiadh didn't have any idea. But she was looking at her something.

"It's you," she whispered, a small, breathless exclamation.

The princess stumbled and Fiadh raised a hand as if to catch her, a thrill of her heart like something had only felt a handful of times in her long life. But she didn't fall, wasn't stumbling at all. She prostrated herself on her knees and addressed her by name. Fiadh's confusion was plain across her features as she looked back at Lorcán.

"No," she replied bluntly. What was going on? Fiadh turned toward the princess again.

"My lady, please. There is no need for this formality," she laughed nervously. Shaking her head, she took a step closer. "The only people who bow to me are my--"

And then it hit her. The bow. The look of fear. That obnoxiously red hair and those eyes. She knew those eyes a hundred times over.

Fiadh gasped. Loudly. One of her hands covered her mouth and the other pointed.

"You're one of mine! From Delbhna! What are you--?" Fiadh gasped, spun, and glared darkly at Lorcán. "You took one of my--!" She stopped abruptly again and whirled back around to the princess. "You're not fae! Why are you fae?!"

 

[Maeve]

Maeve's head was spinning so badly she didn't even realise she'd sunk to her knees. Fiadh... The Goddess of the Sun. Lady Fiadh who was sitting in her livingroom, on her sofa. She thought she might sick up. It was such a strong thought in fact that she put a hand over her mouth to keep from retching.

It's you.

Her people didn't leave the Isle. It was a singular rule, the singular rule, that every tribe followed. The Goddess disapproved of leaving and disapproval from a creature who could wield the magic that the legends and religious texts said she could was not something most people courted. Apart from Liath and then several thousand years later, Maeve. So when she uttered those words Mae failed to hear the wonder, joy and love in her tone and heard only a sentence. She hadn't been fae long enough not to still think of herself as human and the very real fear any human would have was rushing through her now. The only thing that cut through the fear for her own life was the fear for Lorcan's.

"Please don't...!" looking up was the first time she realised she was on her knees and the froze, unsure whether to stand or stay. "Please don't blame him. He..." the sick feeling was coming back and she swallowed, growing even paler if it was possible. "He's my mate."

 

[Lorcán]

Was she kneeling for this female?!

He was suddenly hit by the wave of fear, and the sound that rattled from his chest was low and guttural as he dropped the glass (which conveniently disappeared before smashing to the floor) and went to her, only half taking in the conversation as he made to pull his mate to her feet. Shadows crawled along the floor in his wake, like black flames licking at his heels.

"Maeve." he said firmly, concern contorting his expression as she so openly spoke of their bond in front of someone he didn't know. He had enemies, mostly his father's enemies but enemies none-the-less. The last thing he wanted them to know was about her. The Summer Court had already proven that.

"You kneel to nobody." he rumbled at her, but why she was so afraid of this female had already caused the shadows to writhe over his skin. "And she can't hurt you, you're safe. Nor will she hurt me," he assured his mate affectionately before turning to Fiadh, finally addressing her questions and accusations..

"That's none of your concern." he glowered darkly.

One of mine, she'd said. Realisation was like a smack in the face, and it did nothing to ease the flare of rage he felt at the insinuation that Maeve belonged to her. His assumptions had been correct, but this, this he hadn't expected. He wished he'd banished her from his lands and he snarled at himself.

"I suggest you stop insisting that she belongs to you in any way or this meeting is going to go very badly very quickly." he warned.

 

[Fiadh]

"Your mate?!" Fiadh blurted, her disbelief and confusion twisting toward anger. She watched them, watched him with a growing scowl. "None of my concern?!" She echoed every word with greater offense.

She wasn't afraid of shadows and darkness. Fiadh stepped closer, her chin high.

"This woman is a daughter of Lamfada, blessed by Áine, and my promise to her people is older than any deal you've made with her. No matter where she goes, she is always in the light of my protection, and your threats will never change that."

Then she was no longer addressing Lorcán, looking directly at Maeve. Her voice and body were trembling.

"You've had the dreams. You are why I'm here," she said carefully. Her brows rose, her eyes conveying a look between women that was universal across even the barriers of species and culture. Are you okay? it asked. You are safe?

 

[Maeve]

Maeve.

The young fae could only look into her mates concerned face with the wide eyes of open panic. This was like nothing she had ever been taught how to navigate. Kings, Queens, Generals, soldiers and maids yes but a God? Of course the logical part of her mind was screaming at her to remember that she wasn't a god. That these were fae and she was now one of them but it was hard, oh so hard, and she clutched at Lorcán's hands as though they were a lifeline.

The woman is a daughter of Lamfada...

Mae squeezed her eyes tight once more. She hadn't thought of home in such a long time. Not since they had put an arrow through her stomach in an effort to stop her from breaking the sacred rule but that didn't mean she didn't still think of it as her home in some way. Fiadh's words reawakened a guilt and shame she had been trying to ignore for over a year now. At the core of it, Maeve still felt like she had betrayed her people by running as she had.

You've had the dreams. You are why I am here.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced between both, ironically, mirrored expressions of concern. She wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

"I think I need to sit down," she whispered meekly and, not releasing Lorcán's hand but instead twining her fingers with his, walked over to the sofa and sat herself down. Upon the small coffee table in front of them tea had appeared and she silently thanked the two Puca sisters wherever they were lurking. Only then did she let go of her mate to pour three cups of tea.

"Her emin--" Mae grimaced. Was that right? Was that what she should still address her as? Warring between her religion and how Lorcán had been teaching her to address fae she continued stiffly. "Lady Fiadh is the Goddess of my people, the Goddess of the Sun," her hands shook and rattled the teapot nearly spilling tea over her hands.

 

[Lorcán]

The sparkling emerald of Maeve's eyes had been shattered by panic and he didn't like to see them that way. He didn't like the fear, nor the shame or guilt he felt from her, all the stronger from how she clutched his hands. "My mate." Lorcán repeated Fiadh's exclamation without looking at her, his eyes set firmly upon Maeve's stricken face, trying desperately to assure her that she was safe, that there was nothing that she had to worry about.

None of my concern?!

"As to why she is no longer human, no, it isn't. She is perfectly safe here and does not require your protection. If you think I've forced her to be here, I have not. She chose to be here, with me and my threats will continue so long as you cause her fear or worry in her own home." he sneered. "You will remember the terms of our agreement, I am sure."

Lorcán watched Fiadh as Maeve led him to one of the couches, sitting himself down next to her and draping his arms over the back of the seat to lounge comfortably and as unthreateningly as he could if only to try and calm his mate.

"A Goddess, is she?.." he asked casually, though he was unable to help the quiet laugh under his breath as he looked away, his gaze drawn to the large windows and the horizon that they framed. "If I'd known have dressed more appropriately." he murmured sarcastically, his shirt still open, feet still bare and his hair still tousled.

"I trust, Her Eminence will make herself comfortable and get to the point." he gestured the chair opposite with a lazy flick of his hand.

 

[Fiadh]

She was definitely done talking to the prince. Everything about it was her concern! This girl was supposed to be human. Humans didn't just turn into fae. That wasn't a thing, wasn't possible. And yet she was looking right at the proof that yes, it definitely was. More to the point, this woman was the thing she'd been dreaming about. A person! Why??

Lorcán watched her, and she watched him back. One word from this girl, Maeve, and Fiadh would break every promise in the world to get her away from it. A possessiveness she didn't feel for many things besides Liath, if she was being completely honest.

Regardless, her initial concerns were somewhat assuaged by his very obvious care and concern for Maeve. Fiadh followed them to the seating area and, also needing to be off her feet, gratefully perched at the edge of a seat opposite of the couple.

"Please, you need only call me Fiadh. As princess of the Autumn Court, you far outrank me now," she gently urged Maeve, pointedly ignoring her mate's remarks. She clasped her hands in her lap and leaned forward. "I know this must be a lot to take in. I am sorry that it is so sudden. I do not wish to overwhelm you any further, and I'm sure you have questions," she offered, trying to give the girl some time to process that a god was sitting on her couch. Fiadh wasn't even looking at Lorcán, and hoped that if she continued to ignore him that he might actually stay quiet.

 

[Maeve]

Maeve shot her mate an exasperated look as he sprawled across the chair and waved a hand at Fiadh like she was a commoner. She glanced back to the Godd-- the fae -- opposite her with an apologetic look that, much like Fiadh's earlier look, transcended species and culture to convey the universal look women shared when a man was acting like a petulant child. She finished pouring the tea in silence whilst the other fae spoke and held out a cup towards her when she was done.

"F...iadh," she repeated the name with a grimace for the lack of title. She might as well have just cursed. "My name is Maeve," because it was polite to introduce oneself properly. Once her guest had accepted her tea, Maeve picked up her own and took a long sip of the soothing spice infused camomile. She was right, Mae did have a thousand questions, but she suspected Fiadh had her own ones too. The way she perched on the edge of the sofa made her think she would get up and begin pacing at any second.

"You must do too..." she sighed and glanced to Lorcán. How much would he want her to reveal? He had only just met her but for Maeve this woman had been a part of her whole life even if she had never met her. She had already blundered into the revelation they were mates without a second thought to hiding anything but now the initial shock had passed she could think of more than her own mortal consciousness. Her lips pressed into a thin line before turning back to Fiadh.

"What we say here... what... we talk about... I need your promise you won't speak of it to anyone else. I don't want to hide anything from you," she deliberately didn't glance at Lorcán when she said that and ploughed on, her tone taking on a fiercely protective tone for the next part. "But I won't endanger this place, or Lorcán. They're where my allegiance lies now."