"826 - The Price You Pay" [Backpost] Part 1 of 2

Primary Characters:
Victor Demonsson
Grey the Thief
Curtis Geluf
First Knife V'kela

Secondary Characters:
Scout Commander Hrask

****

Galaxia
The Kling Encampment
The Tent of the Knives
Separation Plus Five Days, Eight Hours

"I knew you would not disappoint me. I knew it." The First Knife laughed a throaty, rich laugh and stepped away from Victor, shaking the blood from the small knife in her hand.

Victor shook his head to get the hair from his eyes and snarled at her silently like the trapped animal he was. His hands and feet might be restrained, but just let her come that close again and his teeth would sink into the soft skin of her dusky throat.

"Not a word, not a sound - nothing," she laughed again. "I have broken warriors in minutes like this and you say nothing after hours." She looked at him again, her eyes dark in the way that Victor felt he should understand and didn't. "Even if you know everything and told your superiors, you will die before you speak - and that would be such a waste." Her smile widened. "Not when we have so much yet to do together."

The only thing that Victor wanted to do with her was feel the life ebb from her body under his hands, but even in his condition he realized she meant something else. More of the little knives and the burning splinters of wood no doubt; she seemed to enjoy them far too much as she'd demonstrated over the last hours. He contented himself with a smile, the one he now saved only for her.

She shivered and took a step back under the impact of the look, then forced herself to move back, her breath short, like a frightened child. "Oh yes... so much to do..." With another shiver, she moved closer, her knife cutting away the remains of Victor's shirt. She tore the rags from him and threw them to the side, Victor's eyes following the ruined fabric of their own accord. "You care more for that shirt than for what I will do to you?" she mused. "Curious..."

Without a word, she turned and picked the rags up, examining them and finding the small pocket that Poppet had sewn into them for him in short order. "Well, what do we have here..." a few slashes and she held the contents in her hand. "Some trinket from your master? A token to..." she stopped and looked closer, her eyes darting from the ring in her hand to Victor and back. "No... this is no token..."

Abruptly she was in front of him again, thrusting the ring under his face. "Where did you get this?" she demanded. "Who did you steal it from?" When Victor just looked at her, she repeated the questions in Lefederan.

Victor met her gaze and growled the first word he'd spoken since being captured. "Mine."

"Yours?" The Kling woman recoiled, as much from the sound of his voice as the answer. "No, fool, I asked where you got it from?"

"Mine," Victor repeated. If she tried to take the ring, even these ropes would not hold him for long. He flexed his shoulders, ignoring the pain and dozens of tiny scabs the movement broke free as he strained against the frame and heard it creak. "Mine," he repeated.

"No, demon, I mean..." she stopped and stared at him and the intensity of his fixation on the ring. Her eyes move from it to him, widened slightly as she realized that he was making the frame creak with the strain of holding him. Had he been free to plant his feet for leverage, she realized, he would already be free and she would be the one screaming. She looked down at the ring in her hand, then back at him. "Could it really be?" she whispered. "Are you the..."

Without warning, she reached up and seized Victor's right hand. He paused, eyes on hers, teeth already starting to taste the spurt of her blood across them - and stopped before he lunged as she slipped the ring on his finger slowly, as if testing it's fit. Her eyes widened when it nestled perfectly on his hand as though made for it - a fact that surprised him as well, for he'd never worn it, only carried it.

"No..." she breathed, stepping back and saving her life without realizing it. "How can this be? How can a demon be...?" The First Knife frowned. "Wait, Hrask said that there was another there when you were captured..." She turned and moved to the tent's door, calling out to the Lesser Knives in Kling, demanding that they send for Hrask at the siege and have him return.

She stopped at the doorway to the tent and looked back. "I will have food brought. If you try to harm the ones that bring it, there will be no more." She watched him intently for a moment, distance and shadows making her eyes unreadable. "How can such a thing be?" she asked softly. "A Murder-Demon? Surely not, but..." She shivered once more, as if feeling victor's gaze on her. "We will see," she said softly before she moved through the flap of the tent and was gone. "When Hrask returns, we will see... many things."

****

Galaxia
Curtis Geluf's Cottage
Separation Plus Seven Days, Ten Hours

Grey rocked the baby even though Harper was soundly asleep against her chest. Perhaps she was trying to comfort herself, she thought. She missed the nights when Victor would soothe her to sleep when she had nightmares. She missed her mate terribly.

"We shall find him again." Grey whispered to her child. "He still lives. I know that now."

She sighed and kissed Harper gently on the forehead. "I love you, little cub."

****

Galaxia
The Kling Encampment
Tent of the Knives
Separation Plus Ten Days, Sixteen Hours

With a low growl, Victor conceded defeat again. The ropes weren't loose enough yet for him to tear free, despite days of rubbing them against the wood of the frame he was attached to. He smiled in the shadows of the First Knife's questioning tent. They would be though. One day they would be, and then he'd be free and the screaming would begin.

He relaxed, letting the blood start to seep back into his arms as the pressure on the ropes no longer kept it out. The frame was a solid design, and had cunning hinges that let the First Knife or her lesser Knives shift his position somewhat, keeping his arms from being torn from their sockets by the weight of his body and making sure that enough blood moved through his limbs to keep them alive. He supposed that the one who'd made it had been a master of his craft, as skilled in his art as Victor was at the making of crossbows, and promised himself again that he would show the man whose art was the better if he ever had the chance.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew him out of his thoughts. It was the First Knife and another, one of her lesser Knives, he decided. The warriors all walked like they had feet made of wood, but the First Knife and her sisters moved more like cats. Loud cats to be sure, but cats none the less. If it had been Poppet, he might not have heard her until she was at the tent's door.

Something inside him twinged at the thought. Their child would have been born by now, would be drawing breaths and crying out to the winds for its father. Poppet would be alone, defenseless with the babe to care for, easy prey for animal or man - and he could do nothing but hang here like a gutted deer. It had been ten dawns since he'd been captured, he knew that. Ten days of waiting, ten days of food fed to him like an animal, and buckets of water dashed over him because they were too scared - and rightly so - to let him free to eat and care for himself. Ten days of visits from the First Knife, first with her little blade and the burning splinters of wood, and then with her odd silent stares and questions he refused to answer.

The tent door was pulled aside and the First Knife entered, one of her lesser sisters on her heels. They stopped well outside his reach even had he been free, the First Knife's nose wrinkling. "Clean him up," she ordered curtly in Lefederan. "He stinks."

Victor grinned ferally. That would mean someone had to be close to him, close enough that he could reach them with his teeth if nothing else.

Watching him, the First Knife frowned and shook her head. "No, Murder-Demon," she said firmly. "If you harm one of my sisters, I will return with my knives and take your legs from you. You will be alive, but have to crawl like a snake when I finish." She leaned forward. "Do you understand?"

The image was clear enough in his head. "Yes," he growled in reply. Time enough to kill later. He was no use to Poppet that way.

"They will give you new clothes to replace the ones you wear - they are too foul to be saved. If you fight them, my knives and I will be back, and you will crawl. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." Something was different. He wasn't sure what, but there was no reason for the First Knife to treat him thus unless something had changed.

She studied him for a moment. "I think you do. You may be a demon, but you are not stupid. When they are done, you will be brought to another tent, one that does not stink as this one does. There are questions I must ask, things I must know... and this time I will have my answers." She turned to the woman accompanying her. "See that it is done."

The lesser Knife nodded, and the First Knife started to turn only to stop and look back over her shoulder, eyes dark again in the way they were so often now. "We will speak again, demon. What you say then determines what will happen next." She stared at him for a moment longer, and then swept out of the tent as more of her sisters entered, bearing buckets of steaming soapy water and brushes.

****

Galaxia
Curtis Geluf's Cottage
Separation Plus Nine Days, Five Hours

Grey watched the horizon. The battles were far away and yet what was to say that they would not reach their door. What was to say they would not find their way to the forest, to the cave? Grey could help stop it. She knew about Flitt; she could help the Lefedera defeat the Kling. Harper could grow up safe in the forest.

She would wait for Curtis to return and then they would discuss their plans.

****

Galaxia
The Kling Encampment
A Luxurious Tent
Separation Plus Ten Days, Twenty Hours

The lesser Knives had been thorough; Victor had to give then that. His skin still tingled from the rasping touch of the brushes and hot water they'd used, and the musky scent of the soap clung to him like a vine. He didn't think he'd been this clean since... since his parents had died and his mother could no longer scold him for not washing enough. He'd kept himself clean - more to make it hard for the animals to small him than out of a sense of other need, but this went beyond that. The women had made certain that no inch of him had been spared the brush save for his face and private parts, and those they'd bathed with a rough rag while they laughed and made jokes his limited understanding of Kling couldn't translate.

The clothes they'd brought him were different too. They were fine things, with stitches smaller than Poppet's or his best, made from black leather and cloth that was of better grade than anything he'd worn before. The women had struggled to clothe him in them, releasing only a part of him at a time and then refastening it to the frame after they'd gotten the clothing around him there. The boots - he was still puzzled by that, why give him boots that would make his feet more dangerous weapons, or let him flee that much faster over rough ground? - had been the worst trouble for them, but they'd managed with effort.

They'd even run a brush like the one Poppet had through his hair the way that she did some nights as an excuse to get him to lay his head in her lap. That part had been strange, the strokes of the brush too much like the ones Poppet had given him, and he'd been glad when they finished after using the brush on the sides of his face to smooth down the beard that he'd begun to grow in captivity. He didn't want to confuse anything about his captors with Poppet.

Clean, clothed, he'd hung there for only a short time before the women returned, this time with a group of warriors, and he'd been transported, frame and all, to yet another tent. The warriors were wary of him, bathed and garbed well or not, they knew him for what he was and were careful not to get too close as they moved the frame. Victor smiled for them once, just to make sure they didn't forget, and watched as they departed hastily, leaving him alone in his new surroundings.

This tent was larger than his old one, with furnishings that were richer than any he'd seen before, and lit by no less than three lanterns burning oil that his nose told him was lightly scented. Fine woods made up the table and chairs, hangings taken from some noble's house hung from the walls of the tent to make it seem more like a room in some castle. There was a carpet on the floor, and wooden planking under that, and he smelled fresh straw underlying the planks. To one side was a chest, open to display more clothing like the garments that he wore, and a bed covered in rich furs filled one corner.

This, he reflected, as he studied the space around him, must be what Poppet had been born to, what Flitt had stolen from her. The things in the cave seemed poor and tawdry next to these, and he stopped himself as he realized that he was starting to wish he could give this back to his mate. Such things were for men - and the worst kind of men, at that: nobles. He was neither, never would be - and she knew that and had chosen him anyway. They had no need for such things.

His eyes drifted over the bed. Well, perhaps most of them. Such a bed would be good for the cold nights - and other things...

The flaps of the ten were thrown back behind him, cutting off the thought. "Right on time," the First Knife purred in Lefederan as she entered, another following her - the Scout Commander Victor remembered her promoting after he'd killed the old one. She started to circle him, her eyes dark and her predator's grin back. "Let me see what... Oh, yes, very nice. Very nice, indeed..."

She stopped in front of him and waved a hand at the tent around them. "Does the tent meet with your approval?"

Victor stared at her silently.

"Good," she continued. "I must apologize, though, had I known earlier we could have avoided all that unpleasantness." She stopped and smiled slowly and cruelly. "Well, some of it anyway." With another of her strange looks, she moved to the table and sat down where she could see him. "You remember Scout Commander Hrask, don't you?"

The Kling warrior moved around Victor to stand next to the First Knife's chair. "He knows me. I can see it in his eyes."

Victor smiled back wordlessly.

The Kling shifted uneasily. "He looks the part now, First Knife, but I still can't believe..."

"Believe it," she laughed. "Why else would he have the ring? Why else would it fit so perfectly?" She leaned forward, her eyes on Victor again. "Why else would Flitt be so frantic for word of him?"

Hrask blinked. "But Flitt wants word of the girl, not..."

Victor's eyes narrowed. They knew about Poppet... She'd said that Flitt would never stop looking for her, but to have the Kling do it...

"Fool." The First Knife reached back and slapped the side of his head without turning or standing up. "Think! The woman is meaningless, just a diversion. *He* is the one that Flitt wants to know the location of. *He* is the one that makes our traitor tremble in fear." She stood lithely and pointed. "Flitt knows that *he* will never be far from the woman, so he sets us to hunt her, knowing that we will find him there when we do... and setting *our* men up to die for him."

The Scout Commander nodded slowly. "Yesss... I see. Flitt's man Cole sends *us* after the demon and says *he* will chase the woman, letting us fight the demon for him! And he is long gone with her when we finally capture the demon and my men lie bleeding on the grass."

Cole took Poppet? Victor's eyes narrowed further. Flitt's man - Flitt - had her?

"Exactly!" The First Knife nodded. "And he expects us to kill the demon for him - to set him free..."

Hrask's grin spread slowly. "But we won't, will we? Because as long as we have the demon, then the traitor will be ours, held captive by the fear that we will set him on him like a rabid dog."

The words coming out of their mouths were all ones he knew, but when added together they made no sense. Flitt feared him? He certainly should, but Victor doubted Flitt knew he was alive. Flitt wanted the Kling to kill him? Again, he would if he was smart, but he had no knowledge of Victor whatsoever. Cole took Poppet so that the Kling would have to fight him? Yet again, a smart decision, but one that wouldn't have been made since Cole knew nothing of him. Were they both stupid? Didn't they...?

He got it then - or at least most of it. No, the Kling weren't stupid, they'd just looked at the information and read it wrong, that was all. It did make sense in an odd way, perhaps more so to the Kling since they were strange anyway. If they thought it was him that Flitt was afraid of, then they'd keep him alive until they no longer needed Flitt - and the longer he was alive, the greater the chance he'd find a way free to reach Poppet.

"I knew you were smarter than that fool you replaced." The First Knife looked at Victor and laughed again. "Go on, back to the front Hrask - and when the traitor next sends his message arrow over the walls, reply and tell him that we have the one he seeks, and that we will keep them here, safe, as long as his information is good. He'll understand - and obey."

Hrask laughed unpleasantly and nodded. "At once, my Lady." He left, wary eyes on Victor the whole time.

The First Knife stood and looked at Victor for a long time, her eyes colored first by triumph and pride, and then that confusing darkness that so often filled them. "Now, demon," she said, sitting on the edge of the table, one foot in the seat of the chair she'd used earlier. "This is the way things will be. Hrask told me that the woman was heavy with child, so heavy that she must have dropped the whelp by now." Victor's growl made her laugh and smile. "Yes, I see that's true. Flitt has them both now, hostages to keep you at bay, and I have you here to keep him at heel. Stalemate."

Victor snarled soundlessly and tested the ropes again.

'No, no, no, no." The First Knife shook her head. "Stop it. Nothing will happen to them as long as Flitt needs them to keep you from his throat, understand?"

Victor let the red haze recede from his thoughts and nodded slowly. "Yes." More like Flitt would use the child as a hostage to make Poppet bend to his will, but there was no reason to tell the Kling that.

"By the same token, nothing will happen to you as long as we need the traitor's information. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

"Good." Her smile curved wider and she leaned forward. "I cannot keep you bound to that frame forever, we both know that. Sooner or later you would break free, or your limbs would wither from disuse - neither of which appeal to me. So I will offer you this: I will release you from the frame if you will swear to remain and harm no one." Her eyes narrowed. "You will still be manacled, I am no fool, but you will be able to walk and move about the tent here at will. If you try to leave, if you kill anyone, or if anything happens to me, then I have arranged for my man in Flitt's service to kill the woman and child. Nothing you do will save them, no creature alive can move fast enough to reach them and stay his hand. They will die. Do you understand?"

Victor nodded slowly. She had him. No matter what happened to him, no matter what the Kling mistakenly thought was happening, the woman had found the one way to guarantee his cooperation. He would let no harm come to Poppet. "Yes."

The First Knife's smile was wider still, a predator's grin at cornering its prey. "I knew you would. I knew it." She stood and moved closer, her breath moving along his neck as she whispered into his ear. "Even a demon will bend to my will under the proper persuasion, won't he?" He hands reached up, fingers hot on his wrist as she slowly unfastened his left hand. "I have you now, and sooner or later I will have all that I want from you, my Lord Earl."

"826 - The Price You Pay" [Backpost] Part 2 of 2

[Begins immediately after the events of 'First Meetings']

Primary Characters:
Victor Demonsson
Grey the Thief
Curtis Geluf
First Knife V'kela

Secondary Characters:
Scout Commander Hrask

****

Galaxia
Curtis Geluf's Cottage
Separation Plus Thirty-Two Days, One Hour

Grey smirked as she watched Curtis make cooing noises at Harper. She, naturally, did not babble at the child but the ways of town folks were different from hers now. "Are there any women you trust around here?"

Curtis looked up, "A baby-sitter? Surely you aren't thinking of going anywhere in your current condition?"

"Jeremy Flitt," Grey scowled. "I guess he's an earl now. He's been conspiring with the Kling. Someone has to tell them. I guess it will have to be me. I can't take Harper into that."

"You can't take *yourself* into that." Curtis said, "Besides that, how, exactly, did you plan on getting into the castle?"

She frowned. "I remember the way things work around here. It will be harder to question the word of a noblewoman." Grey looked down at her tattered clothes and laughed. "I guess I will have to change for the part."

"Poppet, you shouldn't." Curtis said, flatly. "You could get yourself into real trouble. What would become of Harper then?"

Grey stabbed a finger at him. "I will see Harper grow up safe and that will not be under Kling rule or that of Flitt. I'm going and that's final. I need a wet nurse for Harper, unless you think you can do the job."

"There's just no arguing with you is there?" Curtis asked, defeated. "Alright then, I do know of someone who will take the job. But I'm coming with you."

Grey raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She still wasn't completely recovered yet and would probably need the help.

"Don't look like that, I will not let you go off on your own in your condition. Besides, hopefully these ears of mine can steer us clear of trouble." Curtis said.

"If you insist." She said mildly.

****

Galaxia
The Kling Encampment
Victor's Tent
Separation Plus Thirty-Three Days, Two Hours

"What's this?" Victor sniffed the steaming beverage suspiciously. He decided it smelled like some of the dried plants that Poppet liked to hang in the cave to give it a fresher smell more than anything else.

"Tea, Earl Grey. Hot."

There was that name again. The First Knife had been using it since the day she'd released him from the torture frame and replaced it with a set of metal cuffs linked by a short length of hardened chain. Victor had never corrected her, but even after all this time it still sounded strange to hear it. Earls were nobles, the worst kind of man, and he was neither.

Poppet though, she had been born to nobility, and since her father's ring was the reason for the mistaken identification, Victor supposed that he was the one that had been an earl. What that made Poppet, he didn't know, or care - she was his mate and that was all that mattered. What she'd been before wasn't.

He looked down at the steaming beverage a moment longer, then lifted the cup carefully, fingers moving in a pattern his mother had taught him as a child and long thought forgotten. He took a sip - it was bitter, but held a hint of flavor that he recognized as coming from the red berries that grew in the early summer, and something else, something that he didn't recognize.

"You see?" The First Knife smiled, lifting her own cup. "Just tea."

Victor sipped again before setting the cup back down. She was too smug. The Kling woman never did anything without a reason; he'd known that for some time. He didn't always know what the reason was, like the times she would come and just sit and watch him without saying a word, her eyes dark with unknown thoughts, but he knew there was one. He didn't care if she sat and watched him in silence for another ten winters; as long as she did that, Poppet was safe.

"What do you want?" he asked abruptly, his voice making her eyes widen with surprise. Good, she hadn't expected the question; perhaps she would answer it without thinking. It was still strange to speak to anyone but Poppet, even after all these weeks, but at least the words came easier now.

"I want to hear you say my name." The Kling woman blinked, as if she'd not meant to say that.

"Why?"

"Because I want it."

If nothing else had, that settled the issue of the Kling being men. No one but a man would have wanted such a thing for no reason. "I don't know it."

She settled back in her chair, the smile she seemed to wear more and more often, the predatory one, creeping across her face. "V'kela, Earl Grey. My name is V'kela," she purred.

Why such a thing was important to her was beyond Victor. What did it matter what he called her? He had many names, Poppet had many names, and he supposed that men would have many names as well. Which one he used was meaningless as long as they both knew who he spoke to. "V'kela," he said slowly.

Her smile widened. "Was that so hard?" she asked, drinking some more tea.

"No." Victor watched her for a moment, then picked up his own tea and copied her in drinking it. He looked down after a moment and realized that it was gone.

"Here," V'kela reached out and took the cup from him, fingers touching his lightly. "Let me give you some more."

She refilled the cup and handed it back to him, then refilled her own. "What is your name, Earl Grey? Your given name, that is? It seems only fair if you are to use mine, I should know yours."

Again the request seemed meaningless. Victor turned it over in his head as he drank the tea. He saw no reason not to tell her his name, but it would be the one his parents had given him, not the one that Poppet had. No other lips but hers would use that one. "Victor."

"Victor," she repeated back. "'The Winner.' A strong name." She looked at him over her tea. "It suits you."

"It's just a name," he shrugged.

She shook her head. "Names have meaning to my people, they hold power. To give someone a weak name is to doom them to be weak."

Why anyone would let a name affect them so was something that Victor couldn't understand. "If your name is bad, "he shrugged, "then change it -or change yourself so that there is no one who will say it does."

"To change a name is not the way of my people; it shows disrespect to our ancestors."

"Then do not give your child a bad name." Victor drank some more tea.

"I have no child," she returned, eyes dark, her voice dropping to a throaty purr.

"Why not? It is an easy thing should you wish one." Perhaps not so easy as that, he reflected after he spoke. He and Poppet had been mates for a hand of years before they made a child together, and there had been no lack of the activity that made them.

"There has been no one that was strong enough to give me a child," she said slowly, moving the cup of tea in a circle within her hand as she looked up at him.

"Look harder," Victor advised. "You are strong enough for any man, and beautiful in your way. There must be one that has caught your eye."

She stopped making the circles with her cup and stared at him for a moment, surprised and wide-eyed. Then, slowly, her eyes went dark again and she leaned forward. "Do you really think me beautiful, Victor?"

It was a stupid question, of course. It was not the same beauty as Poppet's, his mate was a wolf, with a wolf's sharp teeth and moods, and the Kling woman was more like a snake, sleek and deadly, but it was there nonetheless. What puzzled Victor was that she seemed to not know it. "Do you not know?" He shook his head. "You must. You are too old not to have someone tell you this before."

"They were not you, Victor."

That was even more confusing. Why should his saying it mean any more than someone else's? "What difference does that make?"

"Every difference," V'kela assured him, leaning forward a bit more and shifting in her chair, her leg accidentally brushing against his under the table as she did so.

Victor sipped at his tea again. "Why?" he asked after a moment.

She shifted again, her leg brushing his once more before finally coming to rest against it. Her eyes looked at him over her cup of tea, darker than ever before. "Because, I wanted to hear it from you," she whispered huskily.

This was worse than trying to understand the magic of numbers that Poppet had tried to explain to him last winter. The need for numbers that stood for nothing was easier to grasp than the Kling woman's meaning. Victor took another sip of his tea, realized the cup was empty, and set it down as he reached for the pot sitting on the small brazier. "Why?" he repeated.

V'kela reached for the pot at the same time, her fingers sliding across the back of his hand as they met, her smallest finger slipping between two of his and her thumb curving around his wrist. He looked down at her fingers, the heat from her hand seeming to soak into him and run to make contact with the place where her leg touched his, then lifted his eyes. Understanding glimmered in his mind as he saw the dark look in her eyes and knew it for what it was for the first time.

V'kela smiled slowly, her thumb starting to rub along his wrist and her leg shifting against his, moving back and forth along it slowly. "Because you are strong enough, Victor," she told him huskily, setting her cup down so she could reach for his hand with her other one and trap it between both of hers. "You are the one I choose, not one of the weaklings that surround me. You will give me what I want..." She tugged at his hand, drawing it across the table to her lips and kissed his palm lingeringly. "I promise that you will find the giving no great burden...."

****

Galaxia
Curtis Geluf's Cottage
Separation Plus Eighty-Two Days, Sixteen Hours

Grey sighed. They would leave tomorrow. It had taken some time to find a woman capable of nursing Harper that she trusted. This Indigo Renkert seemed like an honest, if odd, enough girl. She would not try to steal Harper away.

Grey had shown the girl her knives, though, just to be sure.

First to confront Flitt. Then to find Victor. She was strong enough now for both. Grey sighed again. "Where are you, Victor?" Nights were better because she had Curtis now to talk to but it was not the same. "Where are you?"

****

Galaxia
The Kling Encampment
Victor's Tent
Separation Plus Eighty-Three Days, Nine Hours

The siege was coming to an end. Victor had seen enough and heard enough by now that he could tell that much at least, even if he knew little else about the way men - Kling or Lefederan - waged war. The anticipation was there, the almost palpable feeling of menace, as if the whole of the Kling camp were a pack of wolves circling an elk, waiting for the last misstep that would set their teeth against it.

If the city behind those stone walls fell, then Poppet would die, he was sure of that. The First Knife could try to stop her traitor from dying all she wanted to, but Victor knew wolf packs - there would be no survivors, none that were people any more, anyway. There would be broken, dying things like his parents had been after the bandits finished with them, but no men.

That was what decided him. He'd refused the First Knife when she told him what it was that she wanted from him weeks ago. He was Poppet's mate, not hers, and you only did that with your mate. But now, seeing the camp, feeling the end of the siege draw near...

He couldn't let Poppet become a broken thing like his parents had been. He couldn't let that happen. No matter what it cost him, he couldn't allow that. Even if it meant he wasn't her mate any more, he had to make sure that she didn't end like that.

The flaps to the tent moved aside, the armed guard outside visible as he held them open for V'kela as she entered. She wore an odd look, as if she hoped for something, but didn't dare believe that it might be true, and Victor noted that she'd brushed her hair before coming, and made an effort to dust her clothing off, trying to look her best. "You sent for me, Victor?"

"Yes."

He'd never sent for her before, not in all the days he'd been held here, first as a prisoner tied to a wooden frame, and then as an Earl with his own tent, and he knew that was what gave her the look of not-dared-hope.

"Why?" she asked, eyes on him intently. "What may I do for you?"

Victor tried to reply and failed, the words caught in his throat. He frowned, swallowed, and forced them out, knowing that he had to pay the price to save Poppet. "I will do what you want."

"You will...?" her eyes lit up with understanding and she smiled, the expression changing her whole appearance, making her a different woman. "You will give me a child?" she repeated carefully, her voice as neutral as she could make it.

"If I can." Victor looked down at his hands and the manacles that still held them. "But I want something from you."

"What, my demon Earl," she breathed, her voice suddenly a throaty purr. "What can I give you in return?"

He held up his hands and met her eyes. "Freedom."

Something moved in her eyes then, something that might have been pain or loss, he wasn't sure. He'd never been good at understanding such things. "Freedom," she repeated. "Freedom to do... what?" Her eyes were locked to his.

It came to Victor that she knew, but that she wanted him to say it even though she knew. The why made no sense to him, but he'd never been like men, able to lie easily to others. Better to tell the truth and let them be the one to struggle with it. "Take back that which Flitt took from me."

She looked down then, her eyes lost to him for a moment. "Can I not..." Her voice was wrong as she spoke, softer, almost like a girl's, but she caught herself, and when she spoke next it was with her old voice. "That is your price?"

"Yes."

"Then I agree." She looked at him differently, appraisingly, a glance that he did recognize. Poppet looked at him thus frequently, her eyes bright and her heart starting to race in anticipation of what she wished them to be doing already. "There are things I must do first, preparations to make."

"How long?'

"Tonight, my demon," she whispered. "No later. We have waited long enough, you and I, and I will make us wait no more." She stepped forward and touched his face, eyes close to his. "Tonight," she promised, and kissed him as Poppet sometimes did, boldly and without reservation, her hunger apparent. "Tonight you are mine."

She drew back, her smile that of a serpent about to swallow its prey whole. "You will be free in the morning, if that is what you wish," she promised, and was gone in a swirl of dark hair, the tent flaps falling closed behind her.

The wait until evening was longer than any day Victor had spent as a prisoner, longer, in fact, than the whole of the time he had been one. Each mark of the candle that passed was a winter spent alone without Poppet, another summer in which he would not see his child grow. He felt them all as they passed, weighing on him like stones, one after another as he sat there in the chair and watched the candle burn down, unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable to think. He would do what he had to do to make sure that Poppet and their child were safe. He would kill Flitt and his man Cole. And then he would move back to the woods and live as he had before he and Poppet had found one another, alone.

When the tent flaps next opened, he didn't look up until V'kela's shadow fell across the table.

"Victor?" Her voice was softer, lacking in the usual sharp edge, more like the girl's voice he'd had a glimpse of earlier. "Is... something wrong?"

He closed his eyes and sighed. She wouldn't understand. He would do what she wished, even knowing it was wrong, to save Poppet, but that didn't mean it was something he liked to think of. "No."

"Are you sure?" She set something - a tray - down on the table, the smell of the hot tea that she liked so much reaching his nose. "You look..." One hand rested on his shoulder gently. "You look like there is."

Whoever this was, it wasn't V'kela even if it sounded like her. She felt wrong, not like the woman that had spent hours with her blade and burning splinters trying to make him scream or the woman that would drink tea and talk to him. This woman felt wrong somehow.

"Victor?" She repeated softly, her hand squeezing his shoulder.

He got it then, he understood why things felt out of place. It wasn't that she felt *wrong,* it was that she felt *right.* Not like the First Knife of the Kling army, but like... Poppet.

He raised his head to snap at her, tell her to stop what she was doing, and froze, not recognizing the woman that stood there for a moment.

V'kela looked down at him with dark eyes, her hair loose and spilling over her shoulders like a dark snowfall down a hill. She was clean, with the just-scrubbed look he knew meant that the Lesser Knives had bathed her as they did him, the faint musky smell of the soap they used rising from her. She'd changed clothes as well, discarded her normal leather garments with their metal studs and stains from the blood of her prisoners and replaced them with a dress of soft, black leather and cloth that looked to have been made by the same hand as the one that had fashioned the clothes he'd been given. She was softer, warmer than before - and a part of him recognized, to his horror, that paying her price might not be the burden he'd thought.

"Do you like it?" she asked, oddly hesitant. "I had it made to match the clothes you wear so often."

"Why?" He knew the answer now, and knew that she was aware that he did as well, but asked anyway to buy time to find that part of him which was responding to her appearance and kill it ruthlessly.

Her smile was more confident this time. "To please you."

"Why does that matter?"

She didn't answer for a moment, releasing his shoulder to turn away and pour some tea for him, offering it carefully. "Because I wish to."

He took the tea and sipped it, as he studied her. It was different than the normal tea she brought, richer, with a hint of some sweet substance to it. "Why?" he asked again.

She smiled as she poured her own tea, and watched him drink before she answered, "Is there a reason that this must be... unpleasant?"

Victor drank some more tea and pondered that. Should it be unpleasant? The act itself was not, and much as he might want it to be, he feared that it would be good even with someone other than Poppet. It was supposed to be pleasurable; after all, even the animals knew that. It would be easier were it to be unpleasant, yes, that was certain, but that didn't mean that it should never be pleasant. He stopped as he realized the thoughts were making his head hurt. "Perhaps," he admitted. "It would be easier that way."

"It would?" She took his cup and poured some more tea for him, letting her fingers linger against his when she handed it back. "Am I so ugly now, then? You thought me beautiful once before."

He didn't answer, just took the tea and drank, using the motion to avoid answering.

"Or is it something else?" She sat on the edge of the table next to him, one dusky leg revealed by a cunning slit in the dress as she rested it against his, the heat from the contact spreading slowly through him. "Is it that you find me *too* beautiful? I have seen the way you watch me, the way your eyes linger these past weeks." She leaned forward, her hair brushing his cheek as she whispered into his ear, "Is it that you would find this easier to do if you did not wish to do it, my demon? Is that it?"

"Why me?" he'd never asked the question before, perhaps in answering it she would stop pressing him so hard.

"Why you?" V'kela smiled. "Easily told. You are handsome, strong, fearless in the face of my efforts to make you cry out... and you are a demon, a creature of the darkness made flesh and sent to walk the world to remind us why we should fear the night." She shivered, suddenly breathless. "I've never feared anything before I saw you smile at me that first day in the Tent of Pain, it was... delicious." She shivered again. "I couldn't sleep that first night for thinking of you, of the way I felt when you looked at me. I knew then that I had to make you mine, had to have you smile like that at me and no one else...."

She set her tea down and slid closer along the table's edge, more of her leg pressing against his as she reached for his hands. "That's why, my demon," she purred as she drew his hands to her and took his now-empty cup from him. She laid it aside, one hand refusing to relinquish his as she did. The other returned with a key taken from her waist and unlocked the shackle on one wrist and then the other. "We won't need these tonight," she smiled. "Unless you'll want them... later."

Victor shook his head. No one would ever put chains on him again, he knew that. "No."

"Ah, well then," V'kela dropped them to the floor. "More tea, my demon?" She poured another cup and set it in his hand.

He took it mechanically, eyes on her as she reached for her own cup and refilled it. The world seemed to be more distant, as if it were receding, leaving only the interior of the tent as the whole of its reach. She looked back at him, eyes dark again, and smiled when she realized he was watching her.

"Am I beautiful tonight, Victor?" she asked over the rim of her cup.

"Yes," he answered truthfully. Serpents were always beautiful, and she was the loveliest one he'd ever seen.

Her smile was quick to follow his response. "It will not be... unpleasant, my Victor. I promise you that." She reached out and laid her hand against his cheek, the touch making him jerk slightly in reaction to the tingle that shot through him. "You see?" she murmured. "Not unpleasant at all."

The feel of her hand against his face, her fingers hot against his ear, was wrong. It felt right, and that was wrong. She was not Poppet; he shouldn't feel the things that were stirring inside him at her touch, shouldn't recognize that she was right, and that it would not be unpleasant at all. He frowned, the room stretching out around him as he tried to concentrate, the sounds from outside vanishing one by one until there was nothing but the sound of his breathing and his heart - and V'kela's matching his perfectly.

Her smile widened further, and she took his once-more empty cup from him and set it aside next to hers, slipping from the edge of the table and into his lap, his traitor hands refusing to push her away as her body fitted to his instinctively and she took his face in her hands and tilted it up to her lips. "Mine," she whispered, and then kissed him.

The kiss was like nothing he'd felt before. He was hot, then cold, then hot again - and all the while the part of him that knew this was wrong, that knew that he should not be taking so much pleasure from it was pushed further and further to the back of his mind. Her lips were everything he wanted, everything he needed, setting him afire inside with the need to make her his in the way that mates did. His blood sang with tendrils of fire that reached out to her, needing what she was giving him with a ferocity that was beyond anything he'd known before, beyond anything he'd felt. He needed this, needed her, had to make her his....

He pulled away, gasping, face flushed. "What," he whispered, the room spinning around him. "What's happening to me?"

She shifted against him, one hand in his hair and the other working at the fastening on his jerkin, loosening it. "Can you feel it, my demon?" she whispered, dropping her head to his neck like a striking serpent, her teeth working at his skin there. He groaned in response, hands working at her dress without conscious direction. "Can you feel it burning inside you like it is me?"

"Wh-what?" His thoughts were filled with a fire that had only one means of relief, Poppet almost gone now in the blaze of his need for the woman in his lap.

V'kela's eyes were feverish when she lifted her head from his neck, her hands inside his tunic now, hot against his skin. "We have drunk the takir root tonight, my demon," she told him, her teeth bared as his hands loosened the waist of her dress and worked their way inside it, arching her back to push herself forward into them as they cupped the twin treasures inside it. "Ahhh.... yesss.... Nothing can still the need it brings, nothing can quench the fire - except another who has drunk the root. Only they have the strength to do so."

A part of him rejoiced at the words, rejoicing that this was not something he'd chosen, not something he felt on his own. The burning need that drove his body was something she'd done to him, something she'd made him feel, not... She was speaking again, but he ignored her, a different heat rising in the back of his mind. She'd drugged him, fed him something that was making him forget Poppet, forget the feel of her touch, driving her away.

The heat rose further, starting to push aside the fire that burned for V'kela, and he realized what it was - anger. The anger that he released only when he was free to be what he truly was, when he let the demon inside him free to kill.

The two heats dueled as his body moved on its own, V'kela's body as responsive under his hands as his was under hers, their kisses hot enough to set stone aflame. Slowly the anger moved ahead... then collapsed in a rush as V'kela took his ear in her teeth, swallowed whole by the rush of animal need that rose up in response to the rasp of her teeth against him. It struggled once, bobbed to the surface - and then merged with the other, neither winning, but neither losing either. The two twined together, becoming something more dangerous than either alone... and hotter by far.

V'kela gasped as she was thrown away suddenly to lie atop the table, shaking with desire. "W-what? My demon, what?"

It was simple, really, the idea so obvious as he rose, the chair falling back and away. He couldn't understand why he hadn't seen it before. She wanted a demon to father her child, and he had one. All he had to do was stop fighting it and give it to her.

The sense of impending loss, the knowledge that Poppet would never be his again, the emptiness of the years to come all welled up inside him, pushing the doors that he had kept locked his whole life open wide as they'd never been before, letting the thing inside him out to swim through up the red-hot sea of hunger and desire, absorbing it, becoming it - and then bursting free.

V'kela started to rise, and a lashing hand met her, knocking her back to the table top. She stared at him, eyes wide, as a terrible smile spread across Victor's face and he started to advance. "Oh..." she whispered, a part of her realizing what she'd unleashed and what it might cost her as another part rejoiced at the shiver of terror that ran through her.

She jammed a foot into his chest and knocked him back, making it to her feet in time to swing at him as he came in again, the blow landing to no effect as he smiled that much wider, the man she'd spoken to for weeks gone, only the demon inside him remaining. She gasped as he hit her again, making her double over as he grabbed a handful of her dress and tore it away in a single wrench and a growl that sent a shudder through her.

She looked up, eyes flashing with her own mix of fear, anger, and lust, and tried to match his feral grin as she hit him again, knocking his head to the side, only to have him smile once more and throw her back against the table, bearing her down on it, his intent clear as he held her there. She snarled back, the moment that she'd waited for all these days, all her life, finally here, the fear and desire merging into one great wave that washed over her as he bent over her and gave her what she burned for, her head snapping back and her hands clawing at him as she cried out and let the tide of drug-fed desire carry them both away.

"SHAME!"

Editors Note: This takes place after the current mission ends, but before the new CMO boards.

by
Lt. Cmdr. Vladimir Malgin,
Ex-Godfather of Ye Olde Medical

... "Okay, okay... Now I want everyone to shut their mouth and listen to me. Clear? I hope so! I don't think that next shift today will experience problems, only if our beloved Captain will mess up again and sickbay will be once again filled with dead ensigns and other staff. If anything serious happens, find me, wake me and tell me." Pair of piercing blue eyes rolled their glance through the line of officers in blue "Good luck, guys, dimissed."

Vladimir Malgin looked at next medical shift quickly dissipating and sighed. His personal ultimate domain was loyal, obedient as usual. Well, at least while he was in the sickbay. After one last look at his kingdom, Vladimir turned around and exited the sickbay. Right after doors closed, there was a loud sigh of relief of medical staff, which, luckily for them, couldn't be heared by Vladimir.

Familiar path to the quarters has passed swiftly and quickly, as Malgin entered his room and almost fallen on the sofa. After all, he really worked at his shift, and after it was naturally tired. He didn't knew what it was, but in last times weariness slipped away too slowly after work, it was almost literally accumulating day by day... Coffee in quantities that could keep Mammoth awake for another Millenium, selfless physical trainings - it all didn't help. So this sofa-meeting was almost a ritual now. But at the sickbay, he still showed himself as a man, made of metal and concrete, however, these signs apparntly didn't go unnoticed with staff... But did Vladimie care?

Without so much as waking up, Vladimir said "Computer, personal log entry. Lieutenant Commander Vladimir Malgin, Chief Medical Officer. Current stardate... This is beginning to worry me seriously. I know that I said the same thing in previous entry, but I don't know what to do. I am even feeling that I am going older and older. No such fire like before... How could I define the term 'Vladimir Malgin' if I would be ever put in the Encyclopaedias? Surely I WILL be put there, but how?.. Maybe 'A person with the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of the Saint, and the intelligence of Einstein, who uncomplainingly and fairly does a job under extraordinarily difficult conditons. One who performs an impossible job with distinction...' Yeah, that would be me... Okay, computer, end of personal log entry..."

"Acknowledged."

"Good, at least someone acknowledges my words. Any messages or stuff? If yes - play them." said Vladimir, yawning, not at all expecting what this message might be.

"One message. Playing... Lieutenant Commander Malgin, as we know, you have been given command over medical department under special circumstances, along with promotion to Lieutenant Commander. You performed you job very well. But hereby, you are relegated from Chief Medical Officer position, as your shift, Lieutenant Dr. Janelle Reynolds, is assigned. You are to stay onboard USS Galaxy in the position of Chief Surgeon, keeping your current rank of lieutenant commander. Signed - Starfleet Staff Command."

"WHAAAT?!" was the first thing Vladimir managed to yell, after his brain clicked and translated this message into simple 'you've got kicked away from Olymp'. Sleepy condition instantly disappeared as Malgin jumped to the floor and re-read the message on the screen. "Is this some sort of joke or something? It is not 1st of April here! I AM RELEGATED?!"

It was easy to understand that CMO... Well, ex-CMO, was experiencing one of the worst moments of his career. Before today, there were only promotions... RELEGATION! This word seemed to appear everywhere - carved on the wall, levitating in the air, written on his uniform, stamped on his forehead. SHAME! NOT-A-CHIEF-ANYMORE! LOWER-THAN-CORGAN-LEVEL!

"No, no, no!" His fist made its way to meet the table, leaving little scratch. Then again and again. "This Janelle-Shanelle will ruin the Order I set in sickbay! Everything, everything, that I have done, everything will be lost?! No way! I am going to let her know who is CMO here. If she will try to set her own order, I don't know what I will do... But first of all - I should see who is she..."

"Saying Good-bye"

by Lieutenant Janelle Reynolds
Soon to be officially the CMO USS Galaxy

OOC: This is kind of a test, intro and a post in one. I'm looking forward to working with you all again. Those who don't remember me, I love a challenge. Looks like Vladimir has done just that. (PS. The Yamato I use below isn't affiliated with any fleet, just a ship's name to house her in for bio and story sake.) Editors Note: This also takes place after the current mission ends.

USS Yorktown...

Janelle walked the corridors of the ship. This was her last time that she'd walk those corridors again to her Sickbay. She was sort of nervous about her move. She had been on the Yorktown ever since she graduated from medical. This was her home and her family. She was leaving long time friends.

Janelle walked into Sickbay and noticed the light were dimmed, in fact, they were off completely. Janelle scratched her head, "Computer, lights on." To her surprise, everyone jumped up from biobeds and other various places that they hid. Janelle's eyes started to water as everyone applauded. Her best friend and colleague hugged her which made the tears fall. Hugging seemed to always do that.

Janelle, once she got her composure back, she started to thank everyone, "I have to admit, this is certainly a surprise. I just want to thank you all for coming to see me off. I want you all to know that I will miss you all. It has been wonderful working with all of you," she joked, "well, almost all of you." She looked at her boss, Dr. Farley, as she said this. Dr. Farley laughed along with everyone else.

After she finished talking and making her speech, they brought out the cake, "We figured that it wouldn't be a party without cake so we got you one." Nurse Jonas tilted the cake just enough so she could see the writing on it. It said, "Congratulations on your promotion." Janelle smiled, "How did you..? I mean, I thought the replicators were offline." Jonas shrugged, "We only told you that so that you would have to leave sickbay. We thought that you'd never leave."

"Well, thanks for the cake. You are all so thoughtful." She stuck her finger in the cake, "Lemon? You remembered." They served the cake and drinks and then Janelle opened presents. The party died down and Dr. Farley faced her, "Looks like this is it. I know that you are nervous about the move but don't be." She handed her a padd, "I did some research for you and I found out who was their past CMO's were. If you really want to find out about the Galaxy, talk to them. It might make you know what to expect."

When she looked at the names, she recognized one of them. This doctor had given many lectures at the seminars she attended a few years ago, "Thanks for putting up with me. I've learned a lot and I just hope that I can apply them to my sickbay." She liked the way that sounded...my sickbay. Dr. Farley laughed, "Sounds like you are not going to have any problems adjusting." Dr. Farley put her hand on Janelle's shoulder, "Well, this is it. I believe you are now officially off duty." She hugged her and then let go, "Now, get out of my sickbay, that's an order."

Janelle laughed, "Yes sir." She walked out while trying to hold back the tears, "God, I'm going to miss this place." She went home and began to finish packing. She grabbed the padd that was given to her, sat at the console and tried to reach the woman doctor she remembered. It took a while but she finally got a hold of her, "Hi, I don't know if you remember me but we met a few years ago. I..."

The doctor interrupted her, "Of course I remember you. So, you've decided to take my offer." Janelle shook her head, "No, not exactly. I have just been promoted and will be serving on the USS Galaxy." Brooke nodded, "Oh, well then I guess congrats are in order. You couldn't get transferred to a better ship, well, not better than mine but a good one at that." She was joking of course.

"That makes me feel a little better. So, how was it working there?" Brooke smiled, "I loved it but it was time for me and my husband to leave and venture out. My only word of advice to you is to not take any crap from anyone, you know, show them who is boss. There is always someone who thinks that just because they've been there longer, they know everything. Now what I say may sound like I'm contradicting myself but listen to the advice of your assistant and the staff and then you make the final decision...you're boss and don't forget that."

Janelle was known more for being laid back and not so tough. She took Brooke's advice with a grain of salt, "Thank you. I need to go. Thanks for your help." Brooke's face disappeared off the screen. Before Janelle could get up, she got a communication of who her staff would be and their backgrounds. It looked like a good bunch of people. As she read on, she saw the name Lt. Cmdr.Vladimir Malgin. As she continued to read on, she noticed that he used to be the CMO of another ship. He was to be her Chief Surgeon. A bunch of flags went up. With him being the CMO on another ship, he may resent her for the fact that this was her first job as Chief when he had the experience and she doesn't. But then again, they both started as medical officers and this was her time to shine.

She boxed up the last piece of her belongings only to be notified that her way to the Galaxy was going to be delayed. But she didn't mind. This would give her the chance to say good-bye to her commanding officer. She picked up the present and went to the bridge to thank him in person for being the greatest CO she could have. After seven years of service there, she felt very close to him.

"The years pass"

Saladin
The Webwitch of the woods

OOC Note: this is a multipart story some have adult parts...

=early 827=

Their daughter had been born a month ago and Saladin was taking care of the duties around the house while she recovered from the birth.

Their daughter was beautiful and he was carrying her around the hut watching her small eyes light up.

Their son was doing his part in helping as well, yet his eyes still looked to the world beyond the woods.

Saladin worried for him, if he went off to battle he may die and that would break his mother's heart worse then he did before.

He looked at the boy and walked over with his younger sister.

The boy smiled at them as they came over. "Want me to hold her?", he asked.

He handed his daughter over to his son and helped him support her head.

The boy held his sister and sat down. "How's Wobby?" he asked.

"She's resting comfortably, she's feeling better though would you like to see her?" The delivery had taken a lot out of her, more then he thought, guess it was the age thing and this was it for babies that were for sure.

"I'll let her sleep.", the boy said, "She's still sick."

He nodded, and watched the baby as she began to squawk, and then squeak.

The boy started to rock his sister, trying to comfort her.

It didn't work and her squawks became a bit different and Saladin spoke, "she's hungry..."

The boy handed her back to Saladin. "Wobby's job."

He nodded and cradled his daughter. Then walked back in to the hut and then to the back room where the witch was recovering.

She was sleeping and stirred when she heard her daughter's cries. The Webwitch slowly sat up and smiled tiredly at them both. "So soon?", she said softly.

"Sorry..." He handed her over, "Guess she needs to eat..." Then he sat down, "Can I bring you something?"

"I will be fine.", she said as she bared a breast and the infant began to suckle hungrily.

Saladin watched his daughter feed and gently kissed the witch on her lips, "You do need to eat soon.. get your strength back.."

"It is slower returning than before.", she said, "But then I am getting old."

"We both are love... I will bring you one of your elixers... they always help you before."

"Later.", she said, "I will drink one later."

He nodded and didn't argue the point with her, gently he brushed her dark hair out of her face and watched as his daughter fell asleep, not that she wasn't suckling any more.

The Witch removed the sleeping infant from her breast and laid down with her. There were a few strands of silver beginning to show in her dark hair.

He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead and tucked her in, "Sleep well love...

==6 weeks later==

It was still dark when the boy woke and silently crept from his bed. It had been a hard choice for him, but it was something he felt was right.

The lure of the outside was too strong and he had to follow it's call. He'd been preparing for this and so he had a heavily laden pouch of herbs and Saladin's sword.

He wasn't sure if he could fight, but he did know he had a healer's skills. He paused by his parents room where his sister still slept and mouthed a 'goodbye' before he slipped out the door and out of the woods.

Hours later, the Webwitch rose as the infant began to fuss. As she rocked the baby, she noticed something was amiss. Her eyes were wide as she discovered what was wrong.

"Saladin....he's gone!"

Saladin got up and searched quickly through the hut, "my sword is gone too..." Then he looked outside, and began to pack, "I will go after him."

The Webwitch began to sob, and their daughter began to wail at sensing her mother's distress.

He walked over to her and hugged her, holding her close and letting her cry in his arms. There was nothing he could say.

=3 months pass=

Saladin did go look for their son, he was nowhere to be found, the war passed and he spent more time keeping the battles from their land.

Their daughter grew and had started crawling around. He watched her as the webwitch moved around much better.

Their son's running off had hit the Webwitch hard, and it was beginning to show on her. Strands of silver showed in her dark hair, and tiny lines were around her eyes and mouth.

She wondered what she did wrong for the most part.

Saladin had tried to comfort her lately, holding her, letting her cry, telling her it wasn't her fault but he knew this would take time.

He picked up their daughter who was now finding dirt clods quite tasty and brought her over to the witch. His eyes met with hers and they could read each other like a book. "It's not your fault." He whisperered softly.

"Perhaps I have been wrong in staying here.", she said softly.

He shook his head, you have not been wrong th'y'la, you have made a good life here, we have a good family, even if our son is a stubborn child like his parents." It was true Saladin was a stubborn cuss, and was Ahdjiia.

"But he left soon as he could.", she said, "For all we know he could be dead or enslaved."

"Did you not tell me once that we follow our own fates."

She closed her eyes. "I wanted better for him."

He slipped his arms around her and gave her a gentle hug then kissed her gently, "I know.... maybe this adventure will slake his thirst for the world outside, he will come home.

"Unless he is dead."

He nodded, unless he was dead. But he said nothing and kissed her tenderly, all he could do was hope he came home alive.

"I hope our daughter does not leave when she is older."

"We cannot force a path on her; she will make her own path." Saladin was amusingly the force of reason in this one.

"If she goes, there will be no one to take my place."

"Teach her th'y'la..." His eyes met with hers, "teach her our ways. We will guard her carefully."

"I hope it will be enough."

"The years advance again"

Saladin and the webwitch

OOC: More time advancment, adult content here

=Early 829=

Saladin brought in a big healthy deer, his hunting had been good today and he had also cut a deal with one of the outlying farmers, for bread and cheese as he had before a long time before.

Once he was back he walked in to the cabin and saw his spouse starting dinner, "The hunt was good today..."

Soon as Saladin walked into the hut, thier toddler daughter started to take shaky steps towards him. "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!", she called out with a wide smile.

The Webwitch smiled as well. "We should be able to store much for the coming winter."

Saladin picked his daughter up and spun her around the room, followed by a kiss on her cheek. Then he kissed the witch on her lips softly, "Come, help me dress this, we eat good tonight..." He handed her the heavy bundle with sourdough bread and cheeses. "This is for tonight..."

The Witch took the bundle and set it on the side. She got the knives to help Saladin prepare the deer. "We usually do eat well.", she said with a soft smile, "I barely remember the root stews I ate when I was alone."

"I remember those stews, when we sat together eating, they were decent, but I tried to help out then..." He had brought meat along either on his trips or secretly later. That he thought she didn't know about.

"And you did well with the rabbits you caught.", she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

He smiled and slipped an arm around her waist, before leaning in for a soft kiss on her lips.

She returned the kiss and smiled softly. "Let us get this deer ready."

He picked up a knife and they began to dress the dear, rapidly cutting it down to bone and packaging the meat in easy to use strips, first thing he did was prepare the meat for salting and smoking, the small smokehouse he had built was something that she at first objected to, not wanting to stick out, but in the end it was a good build and he concealed it well, he had become quite a carpenter with his time out here.

He then set aside some for the stewpot tonight.

Once the deer was prepared, the Witch took it's bones out to the woods and buried them. Their daughter half followed, but ended up being distracted by one of the spiders walking by with a leaf on it's back.

Saladin began the smoking process but kept an eye on their child as she watched the spider walk. He started the smoke inside the smokehouse and let it build up as he began to salt the meat.

The Witch returned and started to help Saladin.

As they worked he smiled and kissed her softly, "One or two more of these deer and we can eat well this winter..."

Then he asked the next question, "how is our larder?"

"We have plenty of roots, and some cheese.", she said, "Another deer and we should be quite full."

"Do we need flour, salt, and sugar anything like that?" He paused, "I can barter with the miller for some rabbits, or a little work around her house."

"Barter is good.", she said, "But I would avoid working around her house. That one still has an eye on you."

"She does but I do not have an eye on her..." His eyes sparkled.

"I am surprised she has not tried to slip you a draught. I gave her one years ago to keep her wandering husband at her side."

"I bring my own water, and do not take beverages from strangers..." It was his last paranoia from his past job.

"Take care with food they offer when you do work as well."

"I will see what she wants, and perhaps pack a meal. Her husband is probably using the war as an excuse to stay away from her."

He fixed the meat, "Tomorrow morning the smokehouse will be ready."

"He is now." the Witch said, "He avoided her after catching the Pox from one of the whores and came to me for a curative."

He laughed and kissed her, "the damndable food. Even when I was in town I stayed away from the whores because of that." Gently he kissed her lips and let his arm go around her waist, "how can I help with dinner?"

"Get our daughter ready for dinner."

He got up and walked over to where she was playing with the spiders. "Dinner will be up soon..."

Thier daughter smiled up at him. "Up.", she said as she held out her arms.

He picked her up and carried her to the cabin, "Tonight is a big dinner..."

The child began to babble about all her favorite things she was expecting to be on the table.

Saladin carried her in and they began to wash up. He gently kissed his daughter on the forehead as they cleaned up for dinner.

There was a goodly amount of splashing about with the water, but the clean up did eventually finish. The Webwitch had the table set and was getting dinner laid out for them.

He carried his daughter to the table and set her in her high chair. Then he helped out getting things for the table.

The Witch gave their daughter some bread to begin chewing on while she got the water for them to drink and Saladin finished up with the rest.

Once he had the table set he pulled out her chair and then sat himself down to eat. First he served the Witch and his daughter, and then served himself.

The meal progressed in silence for the most part, save for babbletalk as their daughter regaled them with every thing she'd seen. A wistful look came across her mother's face as she recalled the same with their son.

Saladin gently took her hand and kissed it, a gesture of comfort. But he listened to their daughter talk and let his foot brush against the witch's

The witch smiled and let her foot brush his back. It always made her feel warm when he did this, still acting like a young man with his first romantic fancy.

He smiled back and ran his foot over the top of hers then gently took her hand and kissed it again, His eyes sparkled and he traced her palm with his fingers.

She raised an eyebrow at his kiss, her silent question about how the night would follow after thier daughter fell asleep.

He smiled softly, his silent answer that maybe they could be intimate tonight... share their bodies as they havne't done in a while.

That brought a secret smile in reply. She'd missed that between them. But with what happened to thier son, concern for him ranked paramount.

He gently kissed her cheek then went back to dinner, maybe they woiuld tonight, or maybe not.. he had no idea.

Dinner progressed well and their daughter played a bit before getting so sleepy she fell asleep sitting up. The Webwitch put the child to bed and tucked her in.

Saladin walked in to the bedroom where their daughter slept and he placed his hand on the webwitch's shoulder. "She is at peace."

"After today, she'll sleep well this night."

He let his arms slip around her waist for a hug, "Good... she has been active at night lately."

"She has much energy.", the witch said, "I wish I still had that."

He nodded, "you have energy too th'y'la. We're just older.. it takes us time.."

She smiled and embraced him. "Very true."

He hugged her tight then kissed her lips softly, "And we've had a long life together. I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"Agreed.", she smiled as she returned his kiss.

He deepened the kiss slightly and hugged her to him. His hands began to getnly run along her back.

Once the kiss was broken, the witch led him to thier room.

He smiled and held her hand as they shared a kiss again, His arm slipepd around her and he cradled her as they kissed, then he hugged her gently. "I love you..."

"I love you, Saladin.", she said softly.

"And I you Ahdjiia." He lifted her chin for a passionate kiss.

As they kissed, they moved to the bed, still in each other's arms.

He began to help her off with her veils, softly kissing her bare flesh as it was exposed to him, his hands finding her full breasts, not as high as they were when she was younger but he still desired her more as they were together.

There was a bit of hip spreading as well, but the Webwitch accepted this as part of life. Saladin was still in as perfect shape as he'd been when he first chose to stay with her in her eyes.

They undressed and he let his mouth wander down to her breasts suckling softly as his hand moved beteween her legs, he guided her to the bed and they laid down.

She sighed softly and stroked his cheek so he would look at her. The dark pools she had for eyes glowed with her love for him.

He looked at her and kissed her tenderly, he moved so he was on top of her and teased her nethers with his hardness.

The witch wrapped herself around him, long familiarity taking over as each knew what the other enjoyed most.

He moved in to her slowly at first kissing her softly as his hips thrust in to her. He moaned softly as they moved together.

In a well known entwining ballet, thier lovemaking followed it's usual path. Gentle kisses, soft cries of pleasure, tight embraces.

All leading up to a climax together. Saladin kissed her softly, letting his hand caress her cheek as they basked in the afterglow of their intimacies...

She kissed him gently, still holding him close.

He kissed her back and let his hands trace her naked body, she was as beautiful as when they first were together. Whatever lines she had picked up they picked up together.

The witch pulled the sheets around them and snuggled close.

He kissed her again, his kiss still warm and tender, but with some passion behind it and he smiled softly.

She returned his kiss with the same passion and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He hadn't been like this since he was a far younger man.

He smiled and his hands began to wander her naked body, caressing her breasts and her flat belly, he answered her with a raised eyebrow of his own, his way of saying he was a bit more active today then before.

She smiled and the intimate dance began again.

"What's lost is found..."

Saladin and the webwitch of the woods

OOC: Another in the series... adult content here...

The next week after some work with the Miller's wife he brought back flour and sugar to the homestead and was now trying to catch some more fish from the river. Silently he watched the water as he cast his net....

A flurry of small spiders heralded the approach of thier daughter with the Witch in tow. Both sat near Saladin silently.

He looked over at the witch and quirked up a smile to her then pulled out the net which had about four large fish in it. Tossing the fish in a pail next to him he greeted the Witch and their daughter with a kiss.

She smiled at the day's catch so far. Dried well, the fish would add nicely to thier larder.

"We will need to make sure the wood stocks are full next, I fear this may be a hard winter, so I want to be sure the larder is full."

"I have seen the signs as well.", the Webwitch said, "I feel it would be good if you were able to get another deer for the larder."

"I will go out tomorrow in the morn, and track a good sized deer or maybe one of those larger beasts..."

"The flat branch horned ones.", she said with a nod, "I have seen one, they are quite sizable." The beasts had appeared gradually after the war with Kling started, probably a beast from their lands.

"I will see what I can get. If we are lucky I may get one of each then our larder will be overflowing."

"Good.", she said, "If the winter is as bad as I've seen in the signs, we will need to stock heavily on everything."

He nodded, "I will do my best...."

"You always do.", she smiled.

He reached up and caressed her cheek, kissing her lips softly. Then he pulled out another net full of fish and laid them out.

As they kissed there was a splash as thier daughter went into the water. She squealed loudly and splashed in the water as she struggled to hold a slender but very wiggly fish in her chubby hands.

Saladin had to laugh and picked the fish up, "Nice catch."

The child grinned as the Webwitch pulled her from the water. "I help!", she child said beamingly.

Saladin grinned, "Yes you did."

"Let's bring this home and get it prepared.", the Witch said with a smile.

He then gathered up the fish and they carreid them back to the hut. "Tonight will be a good meal."

"It will indeed.", the witch said as she carried thier daughter, "I still have some of that wine you bartered for."

"Excellent, perhaps I should barter for some more?"

"Just enough for cooking.", she said, "I like the flavour it adds."

"Then I will need to get some more bottles for the winter."

She smiled at him as they neared thier hut. "Just a few more, not

"Maybe some of that ale too."

"For frostbite, yes."

"I will try and barter for that..." He slipped an arm around the witch's waist as they walked, some days he acted like when they first were together, with handholding, an arm around her waist. Public affection, though he never raised her veils where she could be seen, that was a matter of respect to her.

Once inside, she let her veils drop and set thier daughter down who hurried off to her room to get out of her wet clothes.

Saladin slipped his arms around her and gave her a soft, gentle kiss, letting his arms slip around her waist and he held her as they kissed.

She returned his kiss, her arms slipping around his neck.

He leaned in and nuzzled her neck softly, then whispered, "tonight?"

"Must you ask?", she teased.

He raised an eyebrow, "true.... but it is courtesy to ask..."

"After how long we have been together?"

"True, it has been many years my love... and I treasure each day as if it was our first...."

"You have changed much since you staggered in wounded."

"I have lost the foolish lust for power. Which I am glad to lose, it allows me to continue with the important things in the land, that is you and our children..." He nuzzled her neck again, "I do wonder..."

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If I had've stayed in town, would you have come to be my wife..."

"I could not leave here.", she said, "This is the only home I've known."

"Well I am glad I never had to ask you, besides I like our home here...it has really fixed up nicely, from the small house when I came to this now." He looked around, as he got more comfortable with his carpentry he expanded the house and raised the roof a good two feet. Also adding the smoke house, a larder pit and couple more side buildings.

"The hut belonged to the one before me, and she before her."

"And I have not changed it much. I did make sure it would be strong for our offspring."

"I do not think the ones before would have complained.", she said, "They did not have a family like I."

He smiled and kissed her again, "I enjoy sharing my bed with you, even when we do not share our bodies, it is a joy to just hold you in my arms and watch you sleep. Then to see you first thing in the morning..."

She smiled. "And I do enjoy how much of a firepit you are with your body heat in the deep winter.", she teased.

"And you are one too.. we keep each other warm in.. so many ways..."

"We do.", she smiled.

He kissed her again, this time a heated passionate kiss, his arms encircling her as he drew her to him...

She returned the kiss and reluctantly pulled away. "Later.", she said softly as she picked up the net of fish.

His eyes sparkled, "I believe our daughter can be persuaded to nap." He shouldered some wood he had collected and they headed back to the cabin.

The witch smiled. "Have you been in the mandrake roots?", she teased as he'd been rather frisky as of late.

"No, it's the good nature, the peace in my life, the out doors, I just find you so beautiful and desirable."

"I still favour the mandrake reason.", she teased further.

"For you I don't need mandrake..." He teased back and slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

She returned the kiss and then picked up the net so they could get the fish prepared. There was a bit of a wiggle in her hips to hint that there would be plenty going on later when they were alone.

Saladin followed and once they got back he began to clean the fish, "What do you want for dinner?" He asked her after another kiss. "We could have fresh fish tonight..."

"We certainly have enough to try some fried fish.", she said as she began filleting fish, "I still have that cooking oil you bartered for."

"It has been some time since we've had fried anything, didn't you fry chicken once?"

"It was pheasant and quite tasty. You had thirds if I remember correctly."

"Ever been a time when I didn't." He raised an eyebrow, "I could begin bartering for a few chickens and roosters to begin a flock of birds."

"We will not raise animals for food.", the witch said, "That goes against the natural order."

He nodded, half understanding, "Though eggs would be a benefit to have around."

"I'd rather they were rare so we can appreciate them more when we do get them."

He nodded and accepted her word, "Of course..." Gently he leaned in and kissed the side of her neck, "Tonight fried fish, maybe some of those carrots..."

He hugged her gently, "Do we have any more of that wine left?"

"I was going to cook with it, but there is enough for you to have with dinner."

"Maybe I should get you some more?"

"You said you were earlier.", she said with a soft smile.

"Then I guess I shall." He finished the last of the fish and began to salt down the ones they weren't serving for the meal. "Smoked fish, some more meat we'll eat well this winter..."

"I would rather us have too much and feast heavily when the weather warms, than to not have enough."

"Every day until winter hits I will be out searching and bringing back food..."

The witch nodded as she finished with her portion of the fish and went to get the flour for battering it.

He began to cover the fish in salt and lay it out for the salting process, then he would smoke it to add some flavor and cut out the salty taste.

Their daughter came over to help with the battering, giggling loudly as she dipped the fish in the flour.

Saladin removed a second bottle of wine he had bartered for with two rabbits from one of the locals in town and brought it in, this was a larger bottle she could use for cooking and meals.

The witch sent their daughter to get the root potatoes from the cellar so they could have those as well with dinner as she finished up the battering of the fish.

He walked over to her again and handed her the wine, "it is not as fine as our last bottle but it was all I could barter for two skinny rabbits."

"It will do.", she smiled.

He kissed her again and hugged her, "I have saved some gold from odd jobs, some people insist on payments, and I can purchase some staples..." He caught her eyes, so she coudl see how different he looked from when he first came in, "Make a list and I will acquire it..."

"You will be going alone.", the witch said, saying it more like a statement than a question.

"Of course..." He wasn't going to make the mistake he made with their son, there wasn't a day that he didn't blame himself for the boy's leaving the woods, if he had of left him in the woods, he never would have seen the city and he never would have left.

The witch nodded. The point was made.

Gently he placed his hand on her shoulder, "So, make a list of things we need, or would make life our here easier and I will acquire it..."

"We just need what is not common out here.", she said.

He nodded, he always got what was needed, and this time he had enough coin he could visit the jewelers and get her something special, they had 10 years together, and he figured it was time to get her something special.

He rested his hand on her shoulder gently and squeezed it, "and we will need some strong drink for if we have to rescue a cold traveler. I will go after my hunt, that comes first after all..."

She nodded and took the potatoes from their daughter. The child smiled at her father as the witch began to slice the potatoes.

Saladin began to play with his daughter, to keep her out of her mother's hair most of all and also because now that he had children he wondered how he ever lived without them.

The witch watched the two play out of the corner of her eye as she started to fry up the potatoes. Memories of their son welled up and she desperately wished she knew where he was, if he was alive.

Saladin caught her eyes and he could tell what she was thinking of. He smiled softly and picked up his daughter for the trip to wash up for dinner.

Once the potatoes were done and drying, the fish was next. The witch took the moment to sit down as the spiders investigated the plate of fried potatoes.

Saladin brought out their daughter and saw how tired she looked, "Would you like me to fry the fish?"

"I am fine.", she said with a soft smile, "Just taking a chance to sit."

He set the young girl down and placed his hand on his bondmate's shoulder. No words needed to be said.

The witch smiled. Indeed, no words needed to be said.

=one week passes again=

Saladin had brought back 3 of the larger creatures the Kling had brought to their land, once butchered and prepared they netted another 400 pounds of meat to add to the larder which was now on a second larder pit he had made.

THis evening he was back from town, the weather had turned cold and his coat was made from the beast's skins. On his back he carried several staples they needed including salt, sugar, flour, eggs, cooking oils, some spices that could not be found in the woods, eggs, and other sundries. He also got a small toy doll for his daughter, and a special gift for the witch, it was a thin gold necklace in a web pattern glittering with jewels, it cleaned out his money but he knew he coudl always make more....

The Witch was working on sewing some winter clothes for thier daughter. The child was busy keeping an eye on some chestnuts that were roasting, waiting for the pops from them that would send her into a peal of mock terror.

Saladin walked in and shook the frost from his beard. Walking over to the witch he smield and kissed her gently.

She shivered at the feel of his cold beard against her skin. "You are chilled to the bone.", she said, "Go warm yourself by the fire."

He smiled and walked over to the fire, beginning to shed the skins he wore in to town, "we now have staples as needed.. I brought hte packages in..."

"Good.", the witch said, "Now we can settle in and work on finishing up the clothes for the season."

He shook and felt his body warm up, "I brought you more sewing supplies, I know you were getting short of thread and needles." Getting up from the fire he began to lay out some of the larder he had brought back handing her the sewing supplies and then handing his daughter the doll he purchased.

The child's eyes lit up and she squealed with delight, pausing only to give her father a hug and kiss of thanks before going off to play with it.

He caught the witch's look and smiled sheepishly, "I know... I can't resist..." Then he took out the wrapped package from the jewler and handed it to her.

She took it with a raised eyebrow and opened it. Her eyes widened as she took out the delicate spun gold necklace. The tiny rubies and emeralds in it winked in the firelight.

She was speechless as she looked at him.

He just smiled and gently kissed her, "I know it is an impractical purchase, it has no use out here and it is just a bauble, but we have been together for a decade of time, and I wantd to give you somehting to mark both this anniversary and our love..."

He looked at her, "I love you th'y'la, with all my heart and soul.... "

She smiled at him. "Help me put it on."

He moved behind her and clasped the necklace around her neck as she lifted her dark hair. Subconsciously he kissed her behind the neck and then let his arms slip around her shoulders.

The necklace hung perfectly and she let her hands rest on his arms.

"I know it is a luxury, but.. you gave us two children... it is th least I can do..."

"You had a hand in things as well.", she teased softly.

He smiled, "It wasn't my hand... well part of it was..."

The witch laughed. "Agreed.", she said with a warm smile.

He kissed her softly, "Where is our daughter?"

"In her room with that doll.", the witch smiled, "I believe she now has a new favourite toy."

His eyes sparkled, "Perhaps we can retire to our room?"

The witch looked out the window. "It is late, and our daughter will be asleep soon. She insisted on waiting for you to come home."

"I am sorry I am back so late.. it took more time to get through the town, things have changed..." He looked at her, "We are ready for winter... enough meat to fill two larders..."

The witch frowned and rose to get the chestnuts off the fire. "Changed? How so?"

"It has grown a bit, people have come back from the battles, buildings hae been built. Some of the buildings have changed owners or information, there is also a temple in town now, to a god I don't recall... " He helped her, "All in all it is different."

"Is there anything we must be concerned over?"

"No, they are more concerned about the town to reach outward. The community is still rebuilding..."

"Is there a danger to the woods?", the witch asked, fearing they would start felling trees.

"No... right now there is no danger... They do not wish to expand outward, just restart what closed with the war."

The witch nodded.

He gently kissed her, "Things are ok out here... we are safe..." His ear quirked and he didn't hear anything, "Let's check on our daughter I think she's sleeping?"

The witch moved silently to peek into thier daughter's room. The child was sprawled in an uncomfortable postion on her bed, dead asleep and clutching her new doll close.

Saladin moved his daughter to a better position so she was more comfortable and covered her with a blanket, "Poor thing is exhausted."

"She had a full day.", the witch smiled as they turned to leave, "She can't wait for the snow to fall."

"We are ready for it... Two full larders, we have enough we can even have guests if you wish..."

"We in the woods are a solitary lot for the most part. Only when one is in trouble do we associate with each other to help."

"True..." He kissed her softly, "I am glad you let me in your life."

"We had been through too much together for me to have let you die in the woods."

"And I would have died..." He still had memories of his first days with her, it was only her good nature and support that he did not starve to death.

"Do the old scars still bother you?", she asked softly.

"They are part of me..." He said softly, "they remind me of how I was brought here, both from the arrows of guards and the creatures when I tried to hunt."

"And so they are."

"I think I have gotten better at hunting..."

"You have.", the witch smiled as they headed for their room.

"And I am glad I am here..." He slipped his arms around her and embraced her gently just holding her close.

She savored the closeness, content to be in his arms. It was a strange thing in the end. For so long she thought she was content alone, only wishing for a child to replace her when the time came, but now, things felt truly in order.

Saladin gently kissed her lips, then deepened the kiss unconsciously, now one kiss from her, one smile from her lit up his heart, where in the past he had only desired the power that his position could bring, and he reached for it, now he looked on his past, and realized he was much better off in the woods with the Ahdjiia and their daugther, then he ever was in town.

She returned his kiss and slowly guided him to their room.

Once inside he began to remove his rough clothing and hung it up.

She stepped from her robes and laid down on the bed, appreciatively gazing at him.

He let his hands wander over her body and smiled, "You get more beautiful each day.." He laid next to her then laid back as they shared kisses.

"I am getting old.", she said with a soft sigh and smile, "It is the way of things."

"To me you grow more beautiful..."

"Are you sure it is not the beginning of milky eyes?", she teased.

He laughed, "My vision is clearer today then it was years ago... comes from clean living and hard work..." He let his hands wander to her breasts, he began to play with her nipples.

Her body responded to his touch as it always did, and she began to run her hands over his body. "Some would say the town lives cleaner than us."

He lifted his head to suckle her gently, "In some ways... but when I was in town, I was softer, heavier, and less active then I am now..." his fingers moved in to her... He desired to give her pleasure today in a way they hadn't done in a long time... and he knew she enjoyed...

She sighed and spread herself for him. "You are right."

They moved so he was on top and he began to kiss her belly and let his fingers play in her netherhairs. He moved lower then let his tongue enter her, something he hadn't done in over a month...

The witch bit her lip not to cry out and she clutched at the sheets at the sensation.

His tongue began to lap at her and he slid two fingers inside her, they had discovered this as foreplay one night nad she enjoyed it so much he used it some nights, in addition to their lovemaking. Softly he blew at her engorged rosebud before sucking it beteween his lips.

She writhed on the bed, soft moans escaping her clentched lips.

Her writing and moans made him spur foreward, flicking her faster letting his fingers slide in to her and probe her nethers as he found spots inside her that drove ehr wild.

A thin sheen of sweat covered her body as the pleasure built within her.

He flicked faster and longer, letting her body build and one of his hands moved up to caress her full breasts as he felt her moans increase.

Her body began to shudder as she reached the point of no return and she whimpered rather than cried out her delight.

Saladin kissed her belly and let his hand run along her hip, then he kissed her lips gently.

The witch smiled warmly at him, letting her leg rub along his body.

He slipped his arms around her and kissed her softly, "We havne't done that in a while and I knwo you enjoy it greatly..."

"There is much we have not done in a while.", she smiled.

"Perhaps tonight.... we can do some of those things.... "

"I would like that.", she said as she kissed him.

He raised an eyebrow, "I am not tired and I know we can continue..." He rolled back on his back and she could feel his thickening hardness brush against her leg.

"Good.", she purred as she straddled him.

He kissed her lips as she straddled him and he let his hands move down to her full breasts, she always had an amazing body and the two children they shared just made it better.

As they kissed, she impaled herself upon him.

He groaned as she impaled herself and let his hands caress her breasts, His moans were soft and he closed his eyes as she slowly moved on top of him.

She rested her hands atop his as she rode him slowly at first, but then picking up speed.

He let his hips move in to hers as she rode him. He lifted his head to share a heated and passionate kiss.

Their moans were muffled by each other's mouths and the motions became more frantic and clutching.

He moved his hips in to her and let his hands tweak her breasts as he suckled her greedily.

The witch's body began to tense as she reached the point of no return, and she sped up her motions.

His hips bucked and he gasped and let out a soft cry feeling his own release shudder his body.

She ground herself against him in that one moment of firey pleasure, then laid atop him breathing deeply.

"mmm.." He smiled softly, "that is nice..."

"You have yet to complain.", she teased.

"Why would I?" He smield and kissed her, "You have always pleased me.. and not just in the bedroom."

The witch smiled. "We have come a long way from our first time all those years ago."

"When I fumbled around."

"You hid it well.", she said, "I figured you were nervous about seeing that much of the mysterious witch of webs without her robes and veils."

"Well I'm glad you let me... the veils hide a beautiful woman.."

"Why show what is not important to be seen?"

"I agree with that..."

"Were you surprised all those years ago?", she asked.

"With how you looked unveiled...?" He nodded, "I was, I did not know what to expect..."

"What did you expect?", she asked as she draped an arm and leg over his body, curious now as to what he believed of the tales told about her then.

"What did I expect..." He looked at her, "I expected a crone, under your veils was a trap to take suspecting men in to your lair to feed off of."

She laughed. "And what did you think when you saw beneath the veils? A temptress who would take you to my lair to drain dry?"

He smiled, "Yes, excactly..." He kissed her, "And that would have been a way to go..." His eyes sparkled and he kissed her gently."

"Were you surprised at my lair?", she continued, rather curious now as they'd not talked about this before, "No demon servants and such?"

He laughed, "Not really, I figured a lot of the legends were from the clerics who wanted to hold their power, or people who were either scared or had things passed down for generations.

"The one before me was a wizened crone, they probably thought she lived on forever and stole souls to grow youthful again."

"Was she your mother?" He was now curious himself.

"I do not think so.", the webwitch said, "I always remembered her as past the age of childbirth."

He raised an eyebrow, "Do you remember your mother?"

"I just remember this place.", she said, "The one before taught me all she knew to take her place when she passed on."

He let his fingers lace with hers and kissed her gently, "And you will teach our daughter to learn what you know.."

"As I tried with our son.", she said softly.

He looked at her, "He learned, he just makes his own path..."

"I still feel as if it were my fault in his leaving as he did."

"I am to blame for his leaving, I took him to town..."

"He would've grown curious with the wars.", she said, "It is my fault."

Saladin kissed her and let his hands touch her body, "You are a good mother to our children, and part of being a good mother.. is letting them go...when time is right..."

"The time wasn't right.", she said as she rested her head against his shoulder.

He kissed her gently again, then nuzzled her neck, teh scents of her soap, the scents of their lovemaking, and the cabin were on the air. "He will return th'y'la..."

"I do not think so.", she said, "He is gone forever and we will never know what happened."

Gently he kissed her again and then hugged her to him, "I love you Ahdjiia..."

"I love you as well, Saladin.", she said as she returned his kiss and hug.

He let he snuggle up, "The weather grows cold, people will not venture out in to the woods..."

"They still do when they have need.", she said, "They always do."

=the deads of winter=

Saladin only ventured out to pick up food from the larder or wood for the fire. On one of his trips he found a man in the woods shivering from cold and he brought him in to the cabin.

Soon as the Webwitch saw Saladin come in with the snow covered man, she quickly pulled her veils up and began to pull her curatives for frosbite from her shelves.

He brought the man in to the side cabin and began to check him over for frostbite and saw something, a bandaged wound on his shoulder...

The witch noticed the bandaging as well. It was tied in the same manner she did, and when she checked the healing wound, it bore the same marks as her own healing herbs.

But she knew she had not cured this man before.

The witch looked at Saladin, her eyes watering. Their son was still alive in the world.

The Prodigal Son

Saladin and the webwitch

OOC: Another in the multipart series...

--YR 830--

After seeing proof that their son was still alive in the world, the Webwitch's mood had picked up. She still wondered about him, but at least he was somewhere, and still versed in the healing arts she'd taught him.

Saladin had noted the increased mood and their evenings together and their lovemaking had been better. He walked over to her and slipped an arm around her waist.

"Where is our daughter?", she asked as she rested an arm atop his.

"By the creek, she wanted to study the plants and fish..." He nibbled on her ear, "she also wanted to find some of that mandrake root, she saw you were low."

"She is a quick learner.", the witch said, "I think she will surpass me in the healing arts."

"She is smart... smarter then her father...that is for sure, I still have problems finding the correct roots."

"That is because you were too busy trying to steal a kiss instead of paying attention.", the witch teased.

"Do you blame me?" He teased back.

"I was trying to teach you a useful skill.", she mock protested.

"ANd I learned..." He slipped a second arm around her, "the herbs I use for battling infection, the ones that can help heal a cut."

"And frostbite.", she said, "But you still could learn more."

"I could... and you can still teach me or try to..."

"I feel it would still be 'try to'.", she teased.

"Can I help it I am still in love with you and I grow more in love each day..."

"You say that each time.", she smiled.

He smiled back, "But I am th'y'la...more and more."

--YR 832--

The Webwitch was nervous as she sat in thier hut, watching out the window. Their daughter had decided to find her name and had gone out alone in the woods to fast and seek it. She'd been gone a week so far.

Saladin sat with her and rested his head on her shoulder, "Do you want me to go looking for her?"

"No, she will come back when she finds her name.", the Witch said, "But I still worry."

He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek, then gently nuzzled her neck again letting the gentle scent of herbal cleaners the barks she used to heal and her drift in to his nostrils. Gently he kissed the hollow of her collarbone and tightened his arms in a gentle hug.

She hugged him back, savouring the moment until they heard an excited shriek come from outside as their daughter came running with a tall young man, travelworn followed.

Saladin looked up confused and raised an eyebrow, "Who is that?" he whispered to her.

"He looks familiar.", the Witch said as the two approached.

"Mommy! I found my name!", their daughter squealed as she hugged them both.

The young man looked at the adults and his eyes misted up. He only said two words, throaty with emotion. "Dad...Wobby..."

"Son?" Saladin said softly, "You have returned...."

"I am called Dyen now.", their son said as the Webwitch began to weep, "And I needed to see what I'd left behind."

"Dyen... "He hugged him, his own tears hidden behind his closed eyes, "Welcome home..."

The Webwitch was still weeping as she hugged them both, and their daughter joined in.

"Come, we will put stew on the pot and you can tell us of your adventures."

"Still rabbit stew?", Dyen asked with a smile.

"Well we have some of those flat horned creatures runing around, they'er bigger then rabbits..."

"Ehlk.", Dyen said, "They're plentiful in Kling."

"They got us through many a winter."

"They use them for beasts of burden and food.", Dyen said, "During the war, many escaped from their pens and it looks like they've fit in well here."

"We'll make a few elk steaks tonight then..." He moved over to the webwitch and put a hand on her shoulder, "Are you ok?" he whispered softly.

The Webwitch's nod was barely perceptible. "Dyen...where have you been?", she asked.

"I left here and was captured by one of the town's militia; they made me a slave until the Crimson Banner stepped in. They freed me and I became an assistant to their leeches. I spent the war as a healer and after that, I've traveled where I was needed."

"We saw your work a winter past..." Saladin said, "Come in, rest." Then he knelt down to his daughter, "what name did you pick?"

The girl looked at her mother as if to ask permission considering the witch kept such things as a private matter. The Webwitch nodded for the girl to make her own choice.

"Kyleea.", the girl said proudly.

He smiled, "Come in then... tonight we celebrate...."

The Webwitch headed for the firepit, and started up making a celebratory feast. She fought back tears in that thier son was home and their daughter had found her name.

Saladin walked up to her and slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

The smile in her eyes said it all. For the first time in years a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

He hugged her gently, "He's home.... Now tonight we celebrate..."

"And so we shall.", she said with a soft smile hidden by veils.

"Do we still have any of that wine left?"

"We do."

He pecked her cheek, "let's dig up up...." Tonight they celebrated, their family was whole....

"The threads close..."

Saladin and the Webwitch

OOC: another part of the series...

=836=

Saladin came home after working for one of the widows near town, he didn't move like he used to as a young man, his hair was more grey then it's original brown, he had a harder time catching his breat and sometimes his chest felt heavier then normal.

Fixing his overshirt almost as he used to as the duke's intelligencier he came up the path to where his life bondmate was outside.

The Webwitch was feeling the weight of age as well, not being as active as she'd been in her younger days. Kyleea was picking up where the Webwitch lacked the energy.

She was starting to wear the layered robes and veils that her mother did.

Dyen only came by from time to time, content to be a wandering healer to those who needed it, and the Webwitch had found peace in that. He'd found his place in balancing the life he'd grown up with along with the ways of the world he'd hungered for as a child.

Saladin helped her up as she stood, his daguter was beginning to resemble her mother and his son was a strong healthy man. Gently he supported the witch...

"How are you today..""

"A little tired.", she said, "Some rest will do me good."

"Me too.." He said quietly, "Rebuilding that chicken coop was harder work then I thought."

"I still think it wrong to keep animals penned just for food.", the Webwitch said as Kyleea rolled her eyes.

"True... but the eggs are nice, and we let the chickens grow strong.. they have a nicer coop then they would in some places.."

The Webwitch sighed. This would be a small disagreement for them until the rest of thier days. As it was, the spiders had taken a while to learn to not go feeding on the chickens.

He kissed her cheek gently and took her hand in his. "Come, let's rest before dinner..."

She got up slowly, joints creaking.

He helped her to the bedroom, looking at his daughter he smiled, "Is your brother coming tonight?"

"He was over with the new miller's wife today.", Kyleea said, having to make the distinction between the old one who was quite a floozy in her own right, "Who knows how long that will take."

"Is that poor miller still trying to keep the town brothels busy

"He is so disease riddled, none will do business with him.", she said with a muffled chuckle.

Saladin laughed, "If he makes it, we'll have a family dinner, if not it will be us..."

"Dyen knows there will always be something to eat here when he returns.", Kyleea said, then paused, "Mother's hands are shaking again."

"She is tired.... " He looked at her, both of them were old, "Perhaps she needs that roots again, we'll get it for her tonight..."

"Too much of them cause harm as they heal.", Kyleea said with a sad sigh.

He nodded, "I will see to her, see how she's feeling..."

Kyleea nodded and went back to preparing dinner.

Saladin went in to the bedroom and sat next to the dozing witch. He tenderly caressed her face and laid next to her.

It took longer than it used to for the Witch to realize Saladin was next to her and she woke. "Is it time yet?", she asked softly.

"No, Kyleea is making dinner, I wanted to lay next to you if I may."

"You never have to ask.", she smiled.

He slipped his arms around her and hugged her, "We have been through many years together...I treasure every second..."

"As do I.", she said as she snuggled up against him.

He kissed her lips tenderly, then in an old tradition he nuzzled her neck softly.

She smiled and stroked his face with a slightly shaking hand.

He leaned in to kiss her hand, "You are still shaking... do you need something for it?"

"It will pass.", she said, "Though it seems to be more oft happening than not."

"I have noticed." He cradled her, "My chest feels heavier more often then not, I am an old man Ahdjiia. I have been feeling my age more and more."

"It is the way of things, though I do miss my youthful self."

"I miss our youthful selves, when we could go hiking in the woods for hours. We could go swimming in the lakes, but the years we have together are something I would never give up..."

"I agree.", she said, "And we still have years ahead of us."

He kissed her tenderly, almost as if they were young again, he felt a stirring below. "Many more..."

The Webwitch couldn't help but smile as she felt Saladin's stirring against her leg. They'd never stopped being intimate so things still worked as they had in their younger days. Not many could say that much for themselves.

"And we will treasure those days as we have those past.", she smiled.

He nuzzled her neck, "Tonight?" He whispered, "We can be together?"

"Have I ever said no?", she teased.

He laughed, "Good point... even when we are old and grey we still desire each other."

"Not many can say such in the world.", she smiled.

He kissed her gently, "Well a pity to them."

"Indeed.", she said as she returned his kiss.

He nuzzled her neck softly and hugged her, "Shall we sleep now love, or go out to help with dinner?"

"I would like to rest a little more.", the Witch said softly.

He kissed her cheek. "then I will rest with you."

She smiled and closed her eyes, holding him.

Hours had passed and Kyleea came in to check on her parents. They were lying together as they always did. She approached them silently and spoke. "Dinner's ready."

There was no reply.

Saladin's eyes had closed as well. They laid together still.. not moving.

Kyleea held her breath as she checked thier vitals and a tear ran down her cheek.

They had passed on.

She sat with them and soon the spiders came, filling the room as they paid silent tribute. Kyleea rose and pointed to the cold flesh that had loved each other for so many years.

The spiders descended on the pair, beginning to spin their webs heavily to make a shroud for them. It was only fitting that they return to the earth together as they'd spent their lives.

"The Next Generation"

Kyleea, The Webwitch of the Woods

Dyen, Town healer

OOC: from this point out Kyleea, will be listed as the webwitch of the woods...

=837=

Dyen had visited his sister since his parents' passing. They had been buried in the woods, together, a simple private ceremony, no cleric, no pomp, ceremony or anything from town.

He walked up the path to the house he had grown up in and looked for his sister.

Kyleea had taken her mother's place as the Webwitch of the Woods. From what rumors she'd heard, the Witch had rejuvenated herself with souls again. She sighed, wondering how mother had shrugged it all off so easily.

The spiders came, heralding that Dyen had come back. She greeted him at the door in full veils.

He waved to her, his clothing was that of a healer in town, "Greetings..." He had helped out as best he could. "I see you are doing well."

"As well as I can with you in your place.", she teased.

He smiled, "Well, healing in Galaxia is not the same as what Wobby taught me those years before, but I try and do the best I can, Marissa wants to know when you are coming for dinner?"

"I *guess* I can drop my veils for this.", Kyleea said with a teasing tone.

He chuckled, teasing his sister, "You have yet to see your nephew. Saladin is growing strong..." He had named the boy after his father. "We could come out here if you would wish it?"

"Your wife is uneasy around the spiders.", she said, "And they are skittish around her."

"She has lived in the city her entire life, she is not used to them. She is getting better."

Kyleea nodded. "Screaming and flinging them away is much better than shrieking and trying to step on them."

"In another 5 years, she will not be screaming.." He teased his sister. "Did you need work done while I am here?"

"Only screaming when you're atop her.", Kyleea teased with a chuckle. She did look around before speaking, "That one shelf that always gave father trouble is slipping again."

He chuckled back, then nodded, "He always did have problems with that shelf." Walkng in to the house he began to examine the shelf and dug out his father's tools. He remembered as a boy watching him work, watching him hammer nails use the plane or what have you to fix the shelf.

Kyleea watched from the side, dropping her veils from her face as they were inside. She did have her mother's eyes, but Saladin's cast to the face around her cheekbones. "I tried to do it myself, but I just don't have the skills father had."

"Few did..." Dyen said with a sigh, "He didn't when he started. Then he got older and learned."

"He did it all for mother.", she said with a soft smile, "I remember them 'discussing' each thing he insisted would make her life easier and she'd still wish to follow her old ways."

"I still remember going in to town with him. She was upset when he brought home the pot and the flour, but she used it just the same."

"I think she did just to make him happy.", she said.

"They made each other happy for a long time." He looked at the shelf, "that should work... now..."

"I will send a spider if it falls again.", she said with a smirk.

He tousled his sister's hair as he had done since coming home. "JUst make sure that it's not too big, I don't want Marissa screaming again..."

"You take the joy out of things, Dyen.", she smirked.

"It is only through a miracle and my explanations she didn't kill that last spider you sent.." He smirked back.

"Now I would've loved to have been a small spider on the wall to have heard that..."

Dyen laughed and hugged her, "It is a miracle you haven't found a spouse of your own..." He began to pack up the tools.

"I'll seek one when the time comes, like mother did."

He smiled, "Well I wish you luck in that." He closed the tool box. "I have to get back in to town though..."

"Take a pouch of the honeysuckle for Saladin.", she said, "A treat from his Auntie."

"Thank you..." He took a small pouch and packed it, then left her a pouch of some of the newer healing herbs, as he did many times to help her out....

"Another generation..."

Kyleea
the Webwitch of the woods

Viktor: huntsman

=2 weeks pass=

Victor, was working in the woods, he was hunting one of those new Elk creatures. They were easy to stalk and hunt, but unfortunately he didn't notice the sharpened stick that had lodged itself in his leg. With a grimace he pulled it out and began to limp out to the woods.

Kyleea had just finished giving the vintner's daughter a draught to bring on her late menses when the spiders came, making the signs of someone crashing about the woods. She quickly ducked into some brush to observe.

He shouldered his bow and continued to limp on. His leg was on fire and it ached as he was barely able to put pressure on it. "Ahh.." He sat down, "Dammit..."

A spider carefully scuttled near Viktor as he sat.

He didn't freak out, and attack it but he studied it curiously, "Hello..." It seemed to be tamed actually.

Another spider came along, also curious.

He looked at them both then began to rise slowly, He grunted with the effort and continued his slow painful creep to get to the woods. He had to be careful, he was near the lair of the mythical webwitch of the woods. He heard she feasted on souls...

As he made his way, more spiders were visible. Some even dropping down on silken threads to watch him.

He was still more curious abuot the spiders approaching, but he moved, eventually he hit a clearing and saw a house, a reasonably well made residence. His eyebrow quirked up and he studied the house. In one corner was a chicken coop, and there was a well maintined patch of land with a wooden placard.

The spiders seemed agitated as he neared the house. More came from the woods and inside the house as he approached.

He looked around and studied things curiously, he made no motions to enter the residence but instead seemed to be more puzzled, asking himself was this really the lair of the witch, where were the souls, where were the captive prisoners.

Again he sat down, his leg was aching now more and more.

A huge spider crawled out, fangs dripping visibly with venom, ready to pounce while a pair of dark eyes continued to watch the hunter.

He started and stared at the spider, "I just need to rest my leg for a minute.." he said to the spider, wondering if it coud hear him.

"It would take longer with that wound.", spoke a throaty voice as the heavily veiled and robed woman stepped from the bushes.

He started again, looking at the spider then saw the woman, "I can manage.... eventually..." Her dark eyes drew him in and he stared at her.

Kyleea had learned well her mother's gaze that seemed to stare into a person's soul. "Are you so certain about that?", she asked, her eyes boring into him.

"I.. do not know..."

"Really?"

"I should have brougth some bandages... something to bind my wound."

"Indeed.", she said, "It is not wise to go in the woods unprepared." The large watch spider crawled over to her and she picked it up cradling it like a child.

"No.. it is not..."

She continued to watch him, idly heading for her home as the spiders around them followed her.

He began to rise slowly, "I will not trouble you any more..." He limped along slowly, the pain excruciating.

"I doubt you will go far.", she said as she headed into her home.

He looked at her, "I can only try."

Rich feminine chuckling came from the depths of the house as Kyleea gathered what she needed to tend his wound.

He ended up having to sit down again, it hurt to move, it hurt him to walk.

Kyleea returned with a gaggle of spiders and she began to tend Viktor's wound. She slathered a salve on it to clean and ease the pain, then began to bind it with a poultice to staunch the blood and aid the healing.

He grunted as the salves hit his skin, they were a differnt touch then when she bandaged it he stood slowly and was able to walk back to town.

"Thank you..." Then he paused, "I don't even know your name..."

"You haven't guessed who I am yet?", she said with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

He smiled seeing her eyes sparkle, "Are you the woman who lives in these woods?"

"You could say that.", she said, "I have been called many things over the years."

"Web witch of the woods?" He asked her softly.

"That will suffice."

"I am Viktor... I live near town..." He dipped his head, "I thank you for your aid."

"You should watch where you walk.", she said with a faint tinge of amusement in her voice as she began to walk back to her house.

He watched her move back to the house then went home... for some reason she was on his mind...

"Grumpy Old Men"

839

Erik Stiener, Retired
Klaus Fienberg, Retired

Location: A Small Cottage outside Galaxia

"You old goat, what the hell are ya doin in there! Bring me my damned beer!"

"Go to hell." Klaus hobbled out on his cane holding two mugs in his right hand.

"Drink up quickly, you'll die sooner than I." Erik laughed a hearty laugh an old smoker would let out. He swigged on the german beer brewed in the back of Klaus' cottage. A young child had wandered onto the property.

"Who the Hell are you boy! Get off of my land!"

"But my sister! She is lost in the woods!"

"The Woods are that way, not on my land!"

"But my sister!"

'GeT OFF MY LAND!!" The young child ran off. Then a Young woman approached from the thicket.

"H-h-Hello dear lady."

'Exile'

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian

Romulus 2379 - three weeks after the defeat of the Reman Rebellion.

"No, Savar. He will not see you."

The tall, square-jawed Rihanssu closed his eyes momentarily. "To be expected," he replied stoically.

His companion, an older man, nodded with a look of regret in his eyes. He glanced around as if expecting their conversation to be under observation. "Your mother was actually more insistent. At least your father allowed me to remove your personal effects from the house."

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian's lip curled slightly. "My mother is a snob. She married into the patrician class and mouths its hollow values twice as loudly as any woman born into it."

The other Rihanssu scowled, grabbing Savar's arm and forcing him to walk down the path. "It was your sharp tongue that got you into this mess in the first place," he snapped, angrily.

The younger man gave no reply, but clasped his hands behind his back as they walked. He looked out from this hilly area across the plains of Aihai, his ancestral home. In the mid-distance stood his family's house, from which he was now forbidden from entering. The green-grey stone of the large building looked colder than usual in the early morning light. Inside, his father lay, seriously ill, perhaps even dying. He might never see him again.

"I wish you would reconsider apologising to the Senate," the older man sighed.

"Nevek, we have been through this," Savar replied. "I will not grovel before those infants and pretend to have changed my opinion. I am right. Their decision to get rid of me as fast as possible simply confirms that."

"And who will take your father's seat on the Senate?" Nevek demanded. "He's still no better, you know. We've just been through the Empire's darkest hour, almost every Senator killed. Did it never occur to you that your father's faction is in tatters?"

"I care not for his faction," Savar sneered.

"Obviously, Savar, you don't care about anyone except yourself." Nevek's tone was full of reprimand. "Only the Tal Shiar has kept the population from getting out of hand in all this disorder. Romulus needs its ruling class to unite, not fragment." Again, he glanced around, and lowered his voice, despite the fact he could see no one within a mile on this flat, rolling plain. "If the Tal Shiar use this opportunity to seize more power for themselves, I dread the consequences."

"Maybe things have to get worse before they get better," Savar shrugged, affecting disinterest despite his deepest misgivings and the aching pain he was feeling, knowing he might never see these lands again. "They have to hit rock bottom soon."

Nevek snorted. "Things can always get worse." He stopped, and turned to look at his friend's son. "Where will you go?"

"Hulor has a cabin in the mountains on Galen III. I'll stay there for a while."

The older man's eyebrow shot up. "Housing a rebel? Is the Governor in full possession of the facts?"

Savar rolled his eyes. "I've told Hulor everything and he's arranged for a quiet arrival. The cabin's very isolated. No one will even know I am there." He shot a glance towards the house. "Besides, Governor Hulor at least remembers the sacrifice and service I have rendered this Empire, which everyone else seems to have forgotten instantaneously."

"You pity yourself too much. If you were wholly without friends, you would not only have been stripped of your rank and title, you'd probably be dead by now."

Although he did not say it, Savar's mind immediately suggested that this alternative was possibly a better fate than the one he would be forced to endure. Exiled for criticising the Empire's expansionistic policies and blaming the Senate's lust for conquest and suppression for the Reman Rebellion, Savar was an outcast. Scheduled to leave this afternoon by shuttlecraft, he might never be able to set foot upon ch'Rihan again. Comrades, friends, family, most people had simply abandoned him as a pariah. He had never felt so isolated, so alone, so cut off from all that was familiar and right. With one devastating speech he had erased a predictable future, a glittering career in the Imperial Navy, a future career as a leading member of the Romulan Senate. The worst part of it was that, given his time again, Savar knew he would have done the same thing. Perhaps there was a self-destructive streak within him.

"I should go."

Nevek nodded, a wistful look in his eyes. After a moment he embraced the young man he had known for so many years. No more words were needed, no more were spoken.

Galen III
3 Months Later

Savar could not help feeling resentful towards Hulor. Indeed, the Governor of Galen III had given him use of a small house; but in three months of exile, had never visited him once - or even contacted him personally. If anyone was to be different, Savar had thought it would be his childhood friend, Hulor, but he was acting just the same as all the rest - if he ever communicated, it was through intermediaries, and distance was always kept. Exile might as well have been leprosy.

And now, here was another emissary from Hulor, winding his way up the narrow pass to the hut Savar was inhabiting. It was freezing up here. When he had first arrived, summer was just turning into autumn, and the mountain air was clear, cool, refreshing. Now, the harsh northern winds had set in - a lazy wind, it couldn't be bothered to blow around you so it simply blew right through you instead. Add to that the damp and the cracks in all four walls, and the once-acceptable cabin had degenerated into a shack. Savar peered into the gathering murk, and coughed repeatedly. The damp and cold were affecting his chest. He feared bronchitis was setting in.

The decorated war hero shuffled over to the small stove, and heaped a bundle of sticks into it through a hatch. Normally he would go out to meet visitors, but the winds were especially icy today. The minimum hospitality demanded was a bit of warmth. Glancing around his dismal abode, he slumped into the chair next to the stove. A few minutes later came the rap at the door. Savar called for his visitor to enter.

"Sub-Commander tr'Khellian," the man said, having stepped through the doorway and immediately stopped.

"Please close the door," Savar snapped.

"Of course," the visitor stammered, hurrying to fulfil the request then making his way over to the fireplace. He was quiet in a strangely awed way, and simply looked at Savar.

Sub-Commander tr'Khellian was in no mood for visitors. "Is there something you want?" he demanded. "Or have you just come to stare at the outcast?"

The other man blinked. "I am sorry, sir. It's hard for me to believe my eyes." Seeing Savar's puzzled look, he finally explained. "I served under you on your first command. Lieutenant Julok, sir."

Savar's eyes shut briefly. As if he were not disgraced enough, Hulor was now sending former subordinates to see him in his squalor. "I see," he said, trying to keep his outrage under control. "You now work for Governor Hulor?"

"I'm an officer in his household guard."

A minor eyebrow quirk was all that betrayed Savar's internal questioning what Julok had done to deserve his fate. "You have a message for me, I presume?" He wanted to keep this exchange as brief as possible. Julok's presence was highly embarassing for him. Even though he had not known him - after all, hundreds of officers served on his first ship - this was like the past visiting him to gloat.

"The Governor has been in contact with some of your sympathisers, Sub-Commander," Julok said, taking a seat in response to a rapid gesture made my his former captain. "He sent me to inform you there is a way for you to regain a posting on a starship."

"What?" Savar said, quizzically. Suddenly all of his hopes shot up, his curiosity was piqued, the dingy surroundings of the cottage forgotten. Could it be true? Was he finally being recalled from exile to his rightful place in the Imperial Fleet? Had the Senate relented at last?

"Our recent good relations with the Federation have yielded an opportunity," Julok explained, handing Savar a display device. "Praetor ********* has completed a new treaty with them. One of the stipulations is the creation of an officer exchange programme."

"So?" Savar snapped.

Lt Julok looked rather taken aback. This coughing, bad-tempered man bore no resemblance to the proud, illustrious battlecruiser commander he had seen and admired as he strode through the engineering section, handing out compliments, asking questions, infecting everyone with his buoyant, hungry attitude. "Governor Julok and some of your sympathisers have used their influence to have you accepted by this programme."

"Just wait," Savar interrupted, spreading his palms outwards in a sudden, violent gesture. "Are you seriously suggesting I serve on a *Starfleet* vessel?" he demanded, incredulously. His brief moment of hope was being crudely dashed against the harsh, craggy rocks of reality. This was the fruit of Hulor's attempt to *help* him?

"Well... yes, Sub-Commander."

Savar fell silent and closed his eyes briefly before turning to look into the stove. Through the small open hatch he could see the wood burning, and the crackling sound it made punctuated the uncomfortable silence. The Elements are of high importance in Rihanssu culture, being the basis of what little religious belief there existed. Every noble house, greater or lesser, was affiliated to one of the elements. The House of tr'Khellian was the senior house affiliated to the element of fire. Staring into the flames reminded Savar always of home, with all the burdens of familial responsibility, of Rihanssu beliefs, of courage and audacity, of the bringing of light, and the wreaking of destruction, all at once.

"This is the best Hulor could do?" Savar questioned in a quiet, neutral voice, still staring at the flames.

"You still have many enemies in the Senate," Julok replied, bluntly.

Savar turned to face Julok again, a savage light reflecting in his eyes. "And of course, putting me on a Federation ship gets me even further away from Romulus, so both sides are pleased," he remarked sourly. "I will not give them the satisfaction!"

Julok sighed. Hulor had instructed him to expect this from his old friend. "Sir, Governor Hulor told me that this is the only chance you are likely to have of returning to service. For at least five years. Possibly longer."

Savar scowled, though he knew Julok was right. "What post did *Governor* Hulok have in mind?" he asked, angrily, staring back at the fire.

"That is ultimately for Starfleet to decide," Julok replied. "I imagine they would be pleased to have someone of your experience and calibre serve with them, sir."

"Perhaps." Savar boosted himself out of his chair, and crossed to the window, clasping his hands behind his back. "The Federation has been a worthy ally." After decades, centuries, of mistrust between the Federation and the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Star Empire, the Dominion War had drawn the great powers together. Their losses had been considerable - especially the Klingons, Savar mused, whose bloodlust and lack of calculation led to fifty per cent of their fleet being destroyed. Like many Romulans, Savar had not expected the alliance to hold, but the continued strife inside the remnants of the Cardassian Union had ensured it did. Most unexpected was the Federation's response to the Reman Rebellion. Perhaps the involvement of their flagship made it a special case, but Savar would normally expect a fairweather ally to take advantage of another's weakness, or at least revel in the misery it caused them. Instead, the Federation had provided active support to ch'Rihan in the putting down of the revolt.

"My talents would be used.. appropriately?" Savar queried, turning again to face Julok, who had, in the meantime, risen from his seat.

"Without doubt, Sub-Commander," Julok said eagerly, seeing some of the old fire in his former captain's eyes. Savar's posture had improved and there was some of his aristocratic pride being reawakened.

Savar cast a cruel glance around the room. The walls were cracked. The roof leaked. A draught came under the door. The furnishings were shabby and in need of replacement. His meagre possessions did nothing to disguise the fact that this was, simply, a hovel. He, Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian, had been reduced to this - living worse than the peasants on his estates on ch'Rihan. Well. No more.

"You may tell Governor Hulor," Savar said, lifting his chin defiantly, "that I accept his proposal. Tell him as much as I am grateful for his 'hospitality', I look forward to leaving these charming surroundings as soon as possible," he said, sourly, but with a summoning up of what little pride Fate had not battered out of him.

"Excellent!" Julok exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "I will tell the Governor at once. I *am* pleased, sir."

Savar inclined his head. "Thank you for visiting. Long life to the Empress."

"Long life to the Empress," Julok nodded, before hurrying towards the door.

Savar watched him go, lit for a short while by the half-clouded moon, before he vanished into the gloom.

[To be continued...]

Sub-Commander Savar ir-Aihai tr'Khellian
Romulan Exchange Officer
Soon to be assigned to USS Galaxy

"856 - Memorial"

Written by:
Robert H.

****

Galaxia
Outside Count Brhode's Castle
The Count's Memorial Service

Even having passed to see him lying in state, many found it difficult to believe that Count Brhode was actually dead. He had ruled Galaxia for their entire lives, and their parent's lives, and for some, their grandparent's lives. He'd been there through famine and plenty, war and reconstruction, always acerbic, always impatient and angry, sometimes harsh and brutal - but always with the goal of protecting what was his: the land and the people that lived on it. To see him lying there cold and still was like a shock to the foundation of their world. He had been eternal, constant, unceasing... and now everything was different again.

The King himself had come for the memorial service, trailing his inevitable flock of nobles and sycophants, all bleating like sheep to his shepherd. He wasn't the old king of course, not the one that had taken the throne to end the strife between Duke's Prince and Hoth, but rather his son. King Hallan was more educated than his father had been, and managed the nobles with a hand less heavy than his father's, but still with the understanding that that he would not hesitate to reveal the iron concealed inside its silken glove as needed.

Other nobles had come as well, some familiar, like Earl Geluf, son of the Winged Earl, the local man elevated to the lands formerly held by the Earl Grey on that fateful day when the siege was broken almost thirty years before. Some came from places with names like Vulkanis and Betazonia that were known only in the stories told by bards. Some were exotic, some were ordinary, and one at least, was a woman, which raised brows around the town. All, though, were there for the same reason: to bid farewell to Brhode.

Whispers passed through the crowd that the Demon of the Dark Woods had even appeared within the castle in the darkness before dawn, waking the King in his bed to demand that he honor the creature's pact with Brhode which expanded Galaxia's northern borders threefold by giving the Count the lands formerly belonging to the Traitor Earl, Flitt, in return for the Dark Woods. Other whispers held forth that the Demon had not been alone, that there had been others with him, a slight woman with silver hair, and two men - one dark as a Kling - but they were quickly discounted. What need had the Demon for a woman, witch's hair or no, or men to follow him?

The day droned on, the speeches became longer, and the crowd grew restless - and then, suddenly, the King was rising to speak and they stilled. He would have the only thing to say that they wanted to hear: what would become of Galaxia now?

"People of Galaxia," he began slowly. "I do not know you personally, but I do know *of* you. You are the people that held the Kling for three months so that my father might gather an army to crush them. You are the people that have taken a land torn by war and made it green again. You are the people that Count Brhode stood his ground for, unyielding against friend or foe, refusing to let anyone or anything to deter him from his sworn duty to protect you and Galaxia. And you are the ones here, today, who have lost something that cannot be replaced. Men may come and go, but such a one as your Count, who stays and stays, in good and bad, never yielding, is a treasure beyond price."

He paused and looked out over the crowd. "You don't want to hear me tell you what kind of man he was, though, for you already know. You knew him better than I, better than any on this stage, for you saw him every day. He was yours and you were his, and nothing I say will approach the bond that you forged together over the years. So instead I will say this: The Count is dead, and I feel his loss with you."

He stepped forward, one hand waving away the members of the Crimson Banner's Henderson's Company that had formed the Royal Guard for thirty years, stopping them as they started to move with him. "I know you have many questions. What is happen here? Who will take the Count's place? Some lickspittle of the King's? A by-blow of some night spent with a palace doxie, perhaps?" He waited for the scattering of shocked laughter to die down. "The latter, I assure you, you're spared. My Lady Queen would have most 'pointed' words," he mimed a dagger striking, "with me were I to stray." Behind him, several noblemen stirred uncomfortably under their wives' glares.

Again the crowd laughed, this time with more heart.

"So I promise you this," the King continued when the laughter died down, "Though I know not who it will be at this time - I too thought the Count would last forever, you see, I will give you as good a man as the one you have lost - or as close as I can find. As well, I promise that Galaxia will not be broken up into smaller fiefs for the purpose of rewarding my friends. I and my family, indeed all Lefedera, owe Count Brhode too much to dishonor his memory that way."

He paused, eyes searching the crowd for a moment, then set dozens of tongues wagging as he added, "Neither will the lands known as the Dark Woods be given to another. I affirm the agreement that the Count reached regarding their disposition, and agree to defend that oath as though it were my own. The woods remain, as always, in the safekeeping of the hands that know them the best."

He waited a moment, as if seeking a response, then nodded and raised a hand to someone at the rear of the crowd. Heads turned, and for a moment there was silence, even the two crotchety old men in the front row in their odd, wheeled chairs falling silent, as the citizenry stared. On the wall of the city by the gate stood four figures in black, three men and a slight silver-haired woman all with crossbows in their hands, one of the men dark as a Kling; and one figure in enveloping grey robes, black dots moving across her garments under their own power.

In later years, mothers would tell their children of the day when the Demon of the Woods and his dark spawn and the WebWitch, mistress of spiders, both stood in the light of day for all to see. They would grow taller and darker, become more than men and women in the retelling - but none would deny that they had been there, working their magic on the King to ensure the safety of their realm.

The moment lasted for a heartbeat, no more, before the tallest of the men in black raised a hand in return to the King's. Then, in the time it took to draw a breath, the group was gone back into legend and the King was speaking again.

"People of Galaxia, I give you this: when I have found the one that will take Count Brhode's place, then I will bring them here," he promised. "You will meet him on this platform beside me, and he will swear oaths to *you* as well as to me, binding him to both of us. But for now... for mow, let us do something together. Let us celebrate the man that we have lost and all that he's given us. Tonight and tomorrow are days of rejoicing, not sorrow. Count Brhode has left us, but only to take his place in the sky so that he may watch over us all."

He waved his hand again, and the long-silent minstrels started to play just as the last rays of the sun slipped away behind the hills, bringing on the night and a sky full of stars.

Year 826

"Grumpier Old Men."

Erik Steiner
Klaus Fienberg

The Local Galaxian Tavern

Erik and Klaus sat at the bar, slowly killing their livers on cheap drinks. "You old goat, why must you drink that terrible blue ale!"

"It's better than the other garbage they serve here. And you get drunk quicker."

"Klaus, it's not about getting drunk, it's about enjoying the drink! How can you enjoy something that makes you feel like someone just lit a bonfire in your throat!"

"You get used to it."

"Your visage has become old and angry because of that vile blue ale." (OOC: Permanent Whisky Face)

"You don't look any better than I. Besides, I'll probably be dead in a few years."

"What a wonderfull outlook on life."

"What makes you think you'll outlive me." said Klaus with an evil smirk.

"You----" The grumpy old men were distracted by a younger man who had put his hands on their shoulders.

"Maybe you men are done and would like to donate your coin to a younger man in need." Klaus said without turning.

"Maybe you can go choke on a rock." The young man grabbed Klaus by the front of his robed tunic. The Barkeep approached.

"Leave him alone jefferie."

"No, he insulted me."

"YEA! My Friend is a master theif!" Erik turned over.

"Since when am I your friend." A shot from Klaus eyes reminded him.

"Yes...of course." Jefferie laughed. "An Old codger like you a master theif? HA!" Erik held up a purse.

"Is this yours? Pretty heavy for a man who wants to rob a couple of old men." Jefferie grew very angry very shortly, gnarling his teeth. He snatched the purse, and whipped out a dagger. The Barkeep returned.

"JEFFERIE! ENOUGH!!"

"And let an old theif like him live? No!"

"He doesn't do that anymore. Just little parlor tricks for spare coin!" While Jefferie was looking at the barkeep, Erik grabbed the bottle of blue ale that Klaus was drinking and smashed it on Jefferies head.

"HEY! I was drinking that!"

"That urchin was going to kill me. Don't you care?" Klaus was sulking after that."You could have used your bottle of scotch." The Barkeep had summoned some gaurds and they came and dragged Jefferie out.

"A little time in a cage will do Jefferie some good." The Barkeep walked back to the old men. "But....how will you pay for that bottle you broke. I salvage those you know." Erik raised a purse and laughed. It was Jefferie's.

NRPG: In Honor of Walter Matthew Jefferies.

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