Fae Courts Let us speak of war on the morrow, tonight let us drink

[Draedamyr]

“I am sure I will manage,” replied the haughty elf.

He knew to heed her warnings, but he had tasted wines from across continents and over centuries.

Draedamyr placed a hand on Seska’s shoulder. He was sensitive to the movement of magic in the world, even if he could not use it. The magic veritably danced around them here. There was a particular shape of magic around the tallest and most elegant creatures.

He didn’t usually feel nervous. He had lived a long life. The otherworldly nature of this place set the hairs along the backs of his arms on end. He had not missed her slightly defensive positioning.

His thumb brushed against the back of her neck with grace and familiarity. He brought the glass to his nose. A soft murmur of approval before he took a sip.

“I’m sure you can tell me if I have imbibed too much. Or have reached the level of self control you would prefer.”

 

[Micha]

"Perhaps a drink to muster courage for the dance? I am afraid I am rather rusty. If you are a little drunk perhaps you won't hold it against me," Micha's smile was all sin and unspoken promises, yet just managed to stay on the right side of being polite. He offered her his arm in a contrastingly noble fashion and led her towards one of the many tables serving such refreshments.

As they walked, he continued their conversation.

"The Night Court Hunts are not... pleasant experiences. At least not for those being hunted," he glanced down at the woman - Queen - on his arm as though trying to judge how much detail he should go into. The Night Princess' guard was not one to mince his words. Fine, flowery language was not taught in the Court of Nightmares. "They like to hunt the Nordenfiir - the bear people of the Tundra - humans too, or lesser fae. Whoever they fancy killing that day. They tend to make it slow, too," the more bloody the better. "My Princess seeks to outlaw such sports but they have been a part of our tradition for centuries now. Perhaps... now you are Queen you could introduce your own type of entertainment. Host your own balls and merriment."

 

[Maeve]

The Princess flashed her mate a grin as his brow furrowed.

Because you didn't have me, she answered back, mind-to-mind. Maeve had been born to the daughter of a Horse Lord, thinking of their uses was second nature to her but to the fae who could travel through streams of magick itself? They were redundant. Forgotten. Well it seemed as though she had been brought into their fold at the right time to remind them they could not do without the majestic animals. That they were not so superior from mortals after all.

Pressing a kiss to her mates cheek to soothe her teasing she then turned her gleaming eyes back to Hyacinth.

"Oh! Me too. All horses really, all legs and wobbling about," she bit down on her bottom lip to keep her grin from being so wide it was foolish. Something that was hard to do when Tharu mentioned flowers. Instead she settled for a dramatic sigh.

"You will have to give me some advice then Lady Hyacinth, no matter what I do I cannot keep these pesky Dragonsnaps alive!" looping her arm through the other woman's she turned, allowing the two males to talk and guiding the group over to one of the tables serving cake and dessert wine.

 

[Gwynevere]

"I'll admit, knowing that I am not the only one who cannot dance does ease my nerves." Gwynevere chuckled, her cheeks turning pink as she looked up at him and took the arm offered to her. "I could not hold such a silly thing against you, not when I haven't danced in...ever, I suppose." She shrugged and allowed him to lead her along, passing Oakley and Yvoire along the way. She hoped her cousin was finding enjoyment in whoever she was bothering now.

"Hmm." She listened to his explanation of the Hunt. She was disturbed, but it did not show easily on her face. What did show was how flustered she seemed in the presence of anyone outside her own court. It was embarrassing, the way her face felt hot when he looked at her. "I can see why she might not enjoy them, yes. How do you feel about the Hunt? Do you enjoy it?"

They reached one of the tables and she helped herself to a drink before he could. She took a large sip, shuddered at the taste, and responded to him. "My court tends to keep to itself. We are rebuilding after my father's recent passing, you see. My cousin is eager to host festivities, but I am unsure. I don't truly know if we are in a state for any of that." Big purple eyes locked back onto his and she took another sip. "Even being here today feels like it may have been a waste. I have nothing to offer in aid if rumors of war are true."

Micha

 

[Oakley]

'Alliances can be won with more than just talk. Yes, I would love to dance.'

"Well then I consider it my duty to my court to win your favour." he answered, his cheek dimpling with a smirk. He settled a hand on her back, trying to be a little less rigid. The rage he felt wasn't his this time. Ora was jealous, and it only made his smirk grow into a wolfish grin.

So, she refused to accept him, but nobody else could enjoy his company either?

He spun the female and pulled her back to him with a low chuckle. "You think our king is beautiful? He does have pretty hair, I suppose. Bit serious for my tastes." he mused, but the amusement faltered as he picked up the scent of blood. Her blood. His eyes snapped toward her, pupils blown wide.

He let out a low growl at the sight of her standing there, visibly seething, and did his best to pay attention to the dance he'd entered into. "Steppes.. Right. I'm sorry I, didn't catch your name, My Lady." he asked, his gaze falling back to her face.

 

[Glendora]

Gwynevere and Micha temporarily blocked her view of Oakley and Yvoire. Still, she felt murder on the tips of her fingers. Magic in the air around her crackled with the power of the moon. A sharp breath through her nose as her eyes collided with Oakley's.

Only for a second before he looked back at her.

The Nighcourt Princess took a step forward and then another. Those in her way wisely got out of it. The song played on as she closed the distance between the dancing pair. A few bright lights of pixies flew past her in a flurry of different warning lights and high-pitched whispers. Glendora's hand would snap forward, with clear intent to cut into Oakley and Yvoire's dance. And not in a question or request. It would be a lethal command from a female of all fury and fangs when a hulking shadow of wings and muscle cut off her path.

 

[Sidereal Penumbra]

He was a general. He'd seen the battle brewing the moment the Night Court princess locked eyes with Oakley. He might not be able to prevent the war but he could prevent this. With swagger and bravado, he slid between the princess and her war path, tucking his wings in tight.

Dark, shaggy locks fell in disarray across his face as he looked down at her. A small tip of his chin and his voice rumbled from his chest. His jaw, swarthy and scruffy, was the kind that suggested he was no stranger to trouble. And then there was that grin, the kind that could disarm even the most hardened opponent. It was a grin rich with boyish charm and lined with amusement.

"Princess. Would you like to dance?" He held out a hand even as if the Night Court Princess looked as if she would rip his head off. Taking that outstretched hand that had been meant for another in his own.

 

[Micha]

The kelpie shrugged his muscled shoulders and took up one of the slender flutes of wine. It looked ridiculous to a degree but he sipped with the poise that spoke of the amount of time he had spent in a court of vipers.

"Hunts are a way for soft Courts to keep their skills from growing rusty but we are at war in the Night Court. I see no point wasting lives in frivolities when they could be used for a purpose."

Out the corner of his eye he caught sight of Glendora moving back towards the dance floor with a look of fury, saw Oakley dancing with another female and suppressed the murderous urge to peel of his skin for the insult to his leige. He focused his violet gaze back on his own companion and resolved to leave his princess to fight this battle on her own.

"It's not always about arms and soldiers in war... perhaps you could offer land. A place to send those who are vulnerable and need safety. I know it is for those fae my own Lady petitions for tonight."

 

[Razareal]

Drinking and merriment wasn't something Razareal was very skilled at, even if he should have been celebrating the fact that the Erlking hadn't sought to slay him for his abrasive intervention between Oakley and Dagda. There would be no groveling; The Knight stood by what he'd done, even if it was a faux paus. Razareal didn't deal in half-measures.

That did leave him quite the odd one out, however, as Oakley disengaged to partner up with a woman from the Day court and Dagda left them with a premonition no more ominous than the last. More than likely he'd lost his welcome to linger near Midir for the rest of the evening himself, so Razareal quietly slinked away to find something to fill his stomach.

A row of dances had begun, and the Spring Knight found himself watching from the sidelines. Whatever bitterness there was from isolation did not trouble his heart; it was solitude he'd been bred from, and singularity he existed within. The Sidhe was a weapon: A blade to be wielded and little more. His presence here was only to stave off danger in the worst scenario.

He'd never known anyone to dance with a sword, anyways.

At the very least, the food was rich against his tongue, and the wine was warm in his gut. Though this eve was meant for joy and peace, Razareal's nature was not meant for such frivolities. Within him, the most selfish aspects of his soul wished that the war would simply begin now. That way, he could be of use, do something, anything. To battle was what he knew, and he ached to live on this night.

Was this jealousy? How curious...

 

[Yvoire]

Yvoire kept her gaze on him, as was polite when making conversation.

"Yvoire of Syndril, Princess of the Day Court." Amusement warmed her icy hues, the slight curve to her painted lips giving way of her stifled entertainment. "But I do like the sound of being a Lady. Sounds as if there is considerably less responsibilities and expectations."

Born a princess, it was a role she quite liked when her cousin was a princess too. Now Queen, Yvoire could not help but retain the relationship they had as cousins and not queen and heir. Her tongue was sharp and quick, but she only spoke to her Queen in such a way to help guide her.

As they turned in dance, her eyes flicked over Oakley's shoulder to catch a glimpse of her Queen cousin. "Perhaps my future will change once again." Eyes now returning to look at his own pale gaze. Saw that his eyes strayed to all sorts of spots around them. "Something the matter?"

Oakley

 

[Gwynevere]

"The Night Court is at war?" Gwynevere probed, sipping thoughtfully. It was embarrassing, just how little she knew of anything outside her own court- even within her own court if the reports from Yvoire and Fionn told her anything. She hadn't realized she probably shouldn't be poking into another court's business, but curiosity spoke before the Queen could.

She took a moment to contemplate his suggestions. "I suppose we could offer that." She chuckled, "Still, it isn't much, but even as...private...as the Day Court has been, my father had always offered it as a place for safety. Fae and humans alike. I'd like to see that as unchanging." She tilted her head to look up at him. Gods, he was too close to her, she realized as she took a step back.

Her gaze lowered to the shimmering liquid in her glass. If Fionn had been there, she was not sure Micha would still be standing. The thought made her laugh.

"Your loyalty to your court is admirable, Micha." She finished off her sparkling wine. "I'd like to hear more of your ideas, truly. I fear my commander knows even less than I do about what is going on outside the court."

 

[Micha]

Micha paused and gave the Queen a dubious look. Did she really not know the Night Court was in the midst of a Civil War? Or was she just hoping he would say something that might help her own schemes? Thankfully the conversation moved on rather swiftly.

"Well, this is the best place to be in order to learn. I see representatives of every Court here," Micha nodded to where the Autumn Prince and Princess stood with the Spring Prince, and then to another clump where the Furies of Dawn sat conspiring with the Winter Shucks. "Midir might have painted this as a call for aid but I suspect most of the fae world have already decided and that is why they are here."

 

[Seska the Dragonslayer]

"Just remember this is public," she said with a low purr.

The conversations of the gathered individuals floated round her, petty politics and the general chicanery she expected among others of the fair folk. There was a tension undercutting everything here. Unsurprising, as that tension always existed in some form or fashion. If it wasn't one Court infringing on the prerogative of another, then it was elements within the same Court running counter to others.

Or individuals. Always a popular choice.

"The imbalance has been growing for years," she said to Draedamyr while looking at all the other beautiful, aetherial creatures that filled this place. "Unsurprising that Autumn would be the one to do something about it. Even if with all of these various factions the balance of power still swings one way."

Not in the favor of the gathered Courts, was what she was getting at. "Hopefully Midir will not dither about. If he can secure enough allies, maybe I won't have to get involved." Her lips turned down at the thought of being brought into another war. The myriad unseen scars painted across her body burned in memory of those that had come before.

She had no allegiance to any court, only to maintaining a balance that would keep the world from spiraling out of control.

 

[Lorcán]

"That we must." he answered Tharu with an appreciative smile.

Lorcan's lips twitched as the voice of his mate whispered through his mind, and he turned to give her a slight nod in agreement. True. And what dark days those were, before you.

His fingertips trailed softly over her back as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, and he smiled as he watched her wander off with Hyacinth, talking of horses. There was little way that any here tonight could dislike her. She was, simply put, lovely, and so surely none could question why he, terrible or not, reacted as he did toward those who had harmed his lovely mate in so brutal a way. If Summer could harm such a lovely thing of the Autumn Court, what was to stop them doing the same with their courts?

He glanced toward his father and drew a breath, giving the male a short nod. They were gathering quite the support, it seemed. All because she was so, fucking, lovely.

He cast another look around, seeing that more and more guests had arrived, and he dipped his chin and raised his cup to any who caught his eye.

Turning back to Tharu, he offered a warm smile. "She is quite something, isn't she?" he sighed. "I'm sorry we aren't meeting under better circumstances, Prince Tharu. It's been a while since I visited the Spring Court. I would welcome you and your lady to visit Endora, also."

 

[Gwynevere]

Gwynevere’s gaze followed Micha’s nod toward the fae mingled. “I suppose you’re right. And I suppose if I’m here, then it is expected that I offer what little I can.” She knew her kind could be brutal. She did not want to think what rejection would award her in a room full of allies.

“Has the drink given you enough courage to dance yet?” Another change of topics. The Queen did not wish to speak more of this potential war tonight. It was not her place.

 

[Micha]

The kelpie gave a wry smile and downed the rest of his glass.

"Courage, yes. Skills? I suppose we'll have to see," he held out his arm for her to take when she was ready before leading her on to the dance floor.

The Night Court did not focus much on the arts. Dancing, music, painting, they were all considered skills of the weak. The higher aristocracy were taught enough so that they could use it at events such as these but the dances of the North were harsher than the flowing dances of the Southern courts. Micha gave the other dancers a brief look, attempting to commit their moves to his mind like he would an opponent. Then, with a small bow he had seen the other males give their partners, he took the Queen of Day's hands and swept her out onto the floor.

 

[Gwynevere]

"Indeed."

The grin on Gwynevere's face as she accepted the Night Kelpie's hand was anything but befitting of a Queen. Her skills with dance held the same sentiment. She spotted her cousin and, like her partner, seemed to be trying to mimic the moves she observed. To her disappointment, it seemed harder than it looked to move one foot and then the next. She had to wonder if dancing was just another one of the things Yvoire was simply gifted in, or if she had been sent off to learn the skill as a child while Gwynevere was kept in the dark.

For a few sweet moments, Gwynevere and Micha seemed to move in sync. She held his hand tightly- far too tight to give the impression that she was afraid he would drop her or knock her over.

But it was Gwynevere who stepped on his toes first, pausing awkwardly before attempting to pick up the pace once more. "I'm sorry," she apologized, her face bright red when she tried to cover it up with laughter. "Sorry, sorry, sorry."

 

[Micha]

Dancing was about as enjoyable as it looked.

Every step he had to make sure they didn't collide with another couple on the floor. Gwynevere was crushing his hand making it difficult to try and spin or turn her in the way he was fairly certain he was meant to do. They probably looked like a couple of drunks. Especially when she stomped on his foot. Micha grimaced though he tried to cover it up with a twisted smile.

"Don't worry about it," he chuckled, eyes tracing the way the blush crept up her cheeks. "I think we're getting better."

They definitely weren't getting better. Gwyn would step on his toes four more times before the song was done.

"So what is it the Day Court hopes to get from the war to come? You said you had nothing to offer but... what was it you wanted in the first place?"

 

[Oakley]

Yvoire of Syndril, Princess of the Day Court..

"Ah-shite.." Oakley faltered, wincing at his own words. "Apologies, Princess.." his throat cleared, and he dipped his chin respectfully, grateful that she appeared amused by such a slip. Fae were proud creatures, and such mistakes could quite easily have been taken as insult.

"I.." he stopped himself, catching sight of Glendora striding toward them both. His brow rose, and instinctively he turned Yvoire so that he might shield her from the Night Princess' ire. The last thing they needed was another war when they'd yet to start the one with Summer.

Still, Ora's jealousy struck him. A cold, sharp stab straight through his chest, chilling him from the inside. The power the female possessed was quite something, and he had no wish to see it wreak havoc here, lest Midir have his head on a platter for being the cause of it.

Rule. Of. Hospitality. He willed the words toward the murderous Princess, just before another stood in her path, and requested a dance. A puca. Autum's General, no less.

Like most Fae, Oakley had always been such a lover of games - until now. Until he had such a loose grip on his self control that losing such games could prove destructive. His muscles ached with tension and he rolled his shoulders, dragging his eyes from the winged male and suppressing the urge to growl.

"Ah. Games, Princess. Petty games." he answered with a quiet huff and a tense jaw, unable to let loose the lie on his tongue. No. Nothing was the matter. He was fine...All lies that he could not tell.

He turned again, showing his back to Glendora and Sidereal in attempt to contain his urge to tear the bastard's wings from his back. His smile was tight as he looked back down at the Day Princess. "So.. You were graciously forgiving my insult.. Thank you." he smiled. "I can't say I've had the pleasure of visiting the Day court. It sounds.... Cheery." he mused.

 

[Yvoire]

Her iced hues flicked from Oakley to the Princess of Night, returning to the male dancing with her. An amused smile crooked at her lips, and nodded at the explanation of games being played. Yvoire loved to toe the line of the games back home, especially those between members in power that wished to undermine her cousin as queen.

"Yes, I do forgive you. Or rather, I will if you agree to another dance after this first one." She put on her most sweet and cheery expression. "Unless you have someone else to take dance with?"

Yvoire dropped her pretense of cheeriness, something that would have made her look entirely innocent save for the wide smile now adorning her. "One more dance and perhaps I can tell you all about a friend of mine. A warrior that serves the Sun Court. You have heard of the Sun Court, have you not?"

A small court, found on an ancient city being swallowed over time by the sea. Long standing allies of the Day Court, it had been some time since the Warriors of Sun came to aide their ally. She was just waiting for the moment the Commander of the Nexus failed the Crown again before she called in her favour with her friend.

"The Sun Court have an army. One that can be bought for warfare if your King made suitable offer for their services... he just needs to get there before Summer does."

 

[Gwynevere]

"You think so?" Gwyn tried to fight the involuntary flushing. She, too, did not think they were looking any better than when they had started and she began to wonder if more alcohol would help. It would certainly be a better explanation for why they were both so gods-damned awful at dancing. Better than a Queen with no proper training, at least. She couldn't speak for him.

She- they tried an attempt at spinning Gwynevere. It was unsightly. Hideous, even. She briefly let go of his crushed hand to hide her embarrassment before she could continue dancing, and continue mingling.

"You think I wanted something from a war?" She looked up at him, purple eyes wide with curiosity, a tendril of white hair fell loose from her styled hair. She looked far too innocent to be talking of a war. "I suppose for it to be a short war. And one which spares the ones I love. I cannot imagine wanting anything else if war is inevitable."

She cursed herself for being so ill prepared for her first public appearance- for being so ill prepared for talk of war. She wished her fiancé was there to guide her through a more careful choice of words. Her father, when he was alive and could form thoughts of his own, would never have offered or asked anything. He wouldn't have come to begin with. The Day Court was secluded. It was beautiful. It was perfect. It was his little gem. He did not wish to allow outsiders, nor did he wish for he or his children to live beyond their walls. He told her it was ugly and dangerous.

Inviting in anyone, was a risk that may forever taint his paradise. But she could not refuse those in need a place to stay. Gods knew there was more than enough space for them after the rebels had been killed or imprisoned. "What is it you wish for in a war? Is it customary to discuss such a somber topic while dancing in the Night Court?"