Wha-?!

No! No! He hasn’t!!!

He doesn’t fantasize about, about being between girls!

Not. Well. It was only…

Look, there was some art, somebody else made a comment, he wasn’t thinking anything of the sort, and that was just the one time-it’s different! He doesn’t dwell on it or anything. Fantasizing is different. There’s no reason he’d ever be in such a position, and besides the only fantasy world that’s real doesn’t have dragongirls so it’s actually for reals impossible.

(He has never written down his fantasies. There’s nothing there worth writing down.)

Anyway, that’s not important right now. What’s really important is: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Um.

Oh.

Oh dear.

That’s. That’s a lot of. Soft. Squish. Everywhere.

(There are many smell. Some of them have him on the verge of coughing. All of them are. New. All of them could be studied for hours. All of them are getting poured down his throat with each breath.)

He really should’ve laid some ground rules for this ball. Or maybe he assumed that balls here already had understood rules? Either way, this is. Okay. He should. He’s got to? He’s got to. Sort this. Um. Out.

Just as. Mmph. As soon as. He can. Mghh. Get his. Mouth. Free, for more than-mrpph! A second!!!

Oh. Hrm. That’s not the ground, that’s. Nagi. He couldn’t tell because, there’s not any room to dangle. He just thought his boots were a little tighter than he remembered. Ha ha ha wow there really isn’t any purchase here huh. He’s trying, golly, he’s trying! But! But! Sometimes he can’t move his legs, and other times he can, but there’s just more Nagi and then his leg can’t move again and he’s got to push and pull and wiggle with all his might and maybe that’ll make a difference but hopefully he’ll have his legs back soon.

Okay! So there’s no ground here! That’s! Fine! This is fine! Suli’s got him. He can wiggle. There’s leverage here. Somewhere. Push like this. Pull, and squirm, and pull, and squirm, gasp, remember to breathe! Breathe! And pull! And get loose! And!

And the (rude, mean, thoughtless) gold Nagi’s arm snakes up his back and presses and his head sinks into (don’t think about don’t think about don’t think about) and the rest of him presses into a wall of firm muscle…

Their voices are muffled now. He feels hers more he than hears it, a vibrating hissssssssssss in-between the Thump! Thump! Thum-thump! Cups, silverware, and hearts all jump to the rhythm of their crashing tails. He feels each impact ripple through their bodies, into him, and into the wall of Nagi opposite. Big around as him, at least, all of it muscle and scale, capable of cracking the floorboards. And they. Thump! Throw them around. Thump! So easily. Thum-thum-thump!

He can’t move.

He can move. If he likes. Pull. Squirm. Push like this. Make the most determined gasps when he wins a hair’s breadth of space. Yelp in panic when he’s pulled back into glittering gold scales. Maybe it’ll be a help. A bit of help. Some small difference from doing nothing at all? He’s got to at least try, doesn’t he? He, he ought to try. He ought to keep trying. He’s supposed to try.

His outfit is still perfect. There isn’t a tear in the silk. Neither necklace nor earrings nor bangle scratches any harder than their nails across his skin. Over his arm. Up and down his back. Closer and closer to his neck. Tingling lines of faintest red send muscles jumping, tensing, only to be squished into oblivion a moment later. Kneading, pressing, stroking, clawing, and they alone can hear the startled cries they squeeze from the Golden Fawn. They alone can feel his wriggles weaken against them, feel how many breathy gasps he needs before he can try another.

His outfit is perfect. No pile of blankets ever felt so inviting.

He’s supposed to try. But.

It might not be up to him if he gets to use the amulet.

Princess Sulochana rallies for leverage. Loosens her grip, just for a moment.

(Suli, who leads an entire nation and never misses Yuki’s birthday. Who saved her lands from a Fallen Star and asked a random boy from Earth how the first day of his “Summer Vacation” was going. Who is one of the most level-headed people he knows in any world and who shows them her outfits before anyone else gets to see them.)

Hazel grabs her hand. Blindly. By accident. His fingers close tight around her at the first touch. He finds the strength to push, again, and makes a noise, again, a muffled call to the Princess of Crevas.

He’s supposed to try.

[Rolling to Entice Sulochana: 6 + 6 + 1 = 13!]

He can’t tell much of what happens next. The voices are a little muffled. It’s entirely possible he hears something incorrectly.

But the thumping. The arguing. The swaying. One by one, they each fall into rhythm Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. He doesn’t notice it at first. It’s only when one voice gets…softer. Just a touch. A little wispy, at the end. It makes the other voice stand out. Sharper. More powerful.

Not arguing. Commanding.

And the other voice. Obeying.

The nails. The midriff. The tail. One by one, they each grow weaker. With every back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. The strength. The focus. Drains away. Drop. By. Drop.

Hazel alone feels two bodies bend to one mind. He alone feels one will curl around him, hold him,

win him

And he

Haze

Hazel hgh

He can’t. Move.

The golden Nagi couldn’t resist the Princess of Crevas.

What hope had the Golden Fawn?

Yuki!

The attendant mirrors you, dear. She's hovering above Civelia but not touching her, for all that her fingers tremble. Her attention is split between the both of you: goddess and former heroine.

"Those are good and noble goals," she breathes. Her tail brushes up against yours. She finally finds the volition to brush one thumb against Civelia's cheek. "I applaud them. I emulate them. Go in peace, my dear."

She makes a Civil gesture to steady you, to give you confidence in the true meaning of civilization, and you feel... orderly. Organization-minded, for a moment. Possessed of a desire to make things clean and neat. Everything in its place. And that's almost but not quite the same - but it's not as if you have much exposure to Civil magic, is it?

She takes a String on you and inadvertently spends it immediately: if you go out and act in a way that is maidish, you may mark XP, and it will feel incredibly fulfilling. We're talking shivers down your spine and warmth in your heart fulfillment.

---

Eclair Espoir!

What were you thinking?

I mean, not that I need to know. But I would wager a night's winnings that you're asking yourself that as you maneuver your way through the crowd, which is watching some barbaric Crevas domination ritual play out over that nice young man. Well, you did warn him, so you can hardly be blamed for focusing on navigating by rote and considering what courage or folly possessed you.

You haven't looked back, have you? Brave heart, you can't look back. You'll run into someone.

But someone else intends to run into you.

The Architect-Knight interposes herself in the path of the Mystery Builder. Two famous in the arts of construction, but one is a beautiful maid in disguise, and the other is a massive, hirsute woman out of time, suspended for centuries in the cells of Heron the Hero. There are ribbons tied in the endless curtains of her hair, and lace gloves have been forced onto her hands.

"Here is heedless / haughty-heaping
Builder bowling / bankers back,
Having hardly / harkened hither
To my trials / taken, tanked."

Which is so much to say that she's sore that you had the audacity to show her up. You've got to maneuver around her without her succumbing to the temptation to add some new walls to the ballroom.

---

Handmaidens!

"You work with the hero, yah?"

One of you has gotten ambushed by two lovely foxgirls, one on either side. They've had a transformation of their own to equal that of Hazel Valentine Fletcher. Their silks shimmer in multiple colors where the light hits them, their jewelry is studded with the many, many jewels of their homeland, and they smell of seduction. But their wings are sharp against their lashes and their shadow is bright and ready for war.

"We're going to want her help tonight," Seli says, slipping an arm around the fortunate handmaiden who's been cornered in one of the side passages. "There'll be glory!"
"Heroism!"
"Daring battle!"
"The reunion of lovers!"
"The punishment of lovers!"
"ara ara, we'll just have to~"
"Yah, we will~"
"But we need-"
"The mighty-"
"Heron!"

Keli swishes a hip into devastating contact. "So do go fetch our cousin, yah?"

---

Purnima Karn-Pana!

In retrospect what really gets you is the need for your victory to be glorious. Only the best opponent would do, naturally. Someone so talented, so dreadful, so beautiful, that your crushing and absolute victory would be all the grander and more striking. And that's where the knife pries open the heart, and that's where the light comes in.

"Don't think you'll win him just because you're drop-dead gorgeous," you sneer. The crowd laughs at her, devastatingly. "You think you can hold him with these smooth, firm arms?" You toss your hair at the very idea, rubbing your forehead against hers. Everyone's backing you up, even if she's towering. "He's mine, and when you see me with him, you'll be so jealous that you're not here, getting kissed, by me, like--"

In retrospect this is the only thing that could have happened. She is awful and the worst and you have to show him. You have to show him that you'll kiss him sloppy like this. This is what it looks like to win. The gasps? Your triumph. The snap of tablet shutters? Immortalizing the moment. You hardly even need to grip him as firmly any more. Is she wearing a new perfume? The fiend. How dare she look so incredibly, phenomenally seductive in order to win the heart of this deerboy?

You break away. She's probably twice as breathless as you. Gosh, when did your tail get so silly? "And now," you pant, your lips covered in her perfection, "it's only a matter of time before I win." You giggle in a very commanding and confident way and then slither into a refreshment table because you can't take your eyes off her.

This is how you win.

He'll be over any moment to congratulate you on how brave and cool and sexy you are, because even if Sulochana is even braver and cooler and sexier, you're still the best. This makes perfect sense.

Maybe you need to kiss her again to show dominance.

---

Hazel!

You're in Sulochana's coils. A bright red, blushing, trying to hide her face Sulochana. A Sulochana squeezing all around you like she would a teddy bear. This would be a perfect time for you to distract yourself from the solid minute of Nagi makeouts that you were right in the middle of, the soft bouncy middle of, by being charming and asking her to dance.

Are you any more composed than she is, in this moment? When she's won and you are hers, before the sight of all of Vespergift, at least for this long moment where it's just the two of you under the spotlight? (Up on the balcony, an undead warlord seethes over how her moment has been taken by some noodle of a girl.)

also you'd better do it quick before purnima tries for a second round

you know

if you don't want a second round

just saying, darling

Rurik!

"Seli, was it? And Keli? Cousins to Princess Heron?" said Rurik, turning around with the unholy gleam of enthusiasm in his eyes.

"I don't think you're direct cousins - Princess Heron has three aunts, ATRAYVU and SALIS and ADOSH, of whom two have children, named KAIAS and DOLRIGE and MARCHIN and OLGAI. However OLGAI and MARCHIN have married JANES and WINDSTORM respectively - neither of whom are you. But JANES has the siblings JOLES and RECKONER, and WINDSTORM has the siblings BLADESTORM and DEATH OF SERENITY and TEN THOUSAND YEARS TO END A SPECIES and PERISHING UNTOWARD and they have the half siblings DRAGON PRINCESS and DRAGON PRINCESS II and DRAGON PRINCES who was originally DRAGON PRINCE but whose consciousness was cleft in twain by the MIRROR OF EZARAKUL."

"But perhaps you were referring to Princess Heron's previous incarnation, who had four aunts, OLVASTIC and MARRAKISH and DAYVOD and PUSH-TO-THINK, of whom all married and had children, MITTERAND and BAYALES and MARIAL and BATTLESECTOR and KILLVENGER and SAYWARD and LONGSHORE who transitioned into GLEESHORE who transitioned into DESERTRAT who transitioned into SUSAN and TRAPIS and KELI - so that accounts for one of you! And I must say, you are looking excellent for a seventy five year old! But Seli is a harder pick, I'm going to go through all of the grand-cousins before going back another Incarnation!

It was impossible to get a word in edgewise. This was a man who had spent years memorizing the entire extended genealogy of all the previous Princesses Heron so that he would be able to inform the Princess when she was meeting someone with whom she had a familial connection. A seneschal's duty was to do no less! Wasn't this exciting!?

Move. Move. Move. Do not stop and do not turn around.

The only thing that can salvage this situation is forward momentum. Now that it has come to this if I do not at the very least confirm the use of the incense for myself I will, I will, I will!

...Shortest path to the steam rooms is through the south exit. Sidestep crowds. Do not make eye contact, do not allow even the possibility of conversation. Eyes forward. Senses forward. I do not hear the calls of my 'name'. I do not hear the apologies. I do not hear what anyone has to say. I do not want to. I cannot afford to.

The only path is forward. So move. Move. M--

"Oh you must be joking."

Absurd. Infuriating. Again?!

No.

No I refuse. I won't do this. I won't be party to these ridiculous games. I attempt to walk away and I am blocked by the world. I attempt to put a... to have a moment for my heart's sake and I am blocked by the world. I heed the call of my own duties, and oh look at this! What is next? What is next, hm?! I am at the absolute limits of my tolerance.

"Shut up. Just shut up and begone from my sight, you self absorbed middle-act villain."

Move. Move. Move. Forward and only forward. Be silent, do not disturb the party any further, and do not stop.

Two steps to build momentum, leap. Land on target's shoulder. Summon heartblade and separate, Scoundrel's Technique. Incapacitate.

...To begin with, it is a little understood fact of heartblade that they must be pulled from the heart. But that is the only restriction. If you can imagine a path from your heart through your leg (and this is absurdly easy) then you can ultimately draw it from your foot at easily as you could your chest.

I have merely applied this principle as I slip over the edge of the Architect Knight and disappear through the door. And to avoid causing a scene I have also in the same motion shattered the blade into a thousand needles. This is easy to do as well, if you understand the trick. All that it requires is a broken heart. A broken heart, mind you. Not a broken spirit. That is important.

Because the chase will continue. And it will continue without this interfering jackass getting a say in my path whatsoever. Because I have pinned her. Her boots, her lacy gloves, all of the ribbons in the locks of her voluminous hair, even several fingers and a knee. To. The. Fucking. Wall.

Now. I will ask you agai--

I'll ask you again?????

...Why? Why did I say that? Why did I tell her that? WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Ohhhhhh, so romantic! Is this the maid-knight's duty as well? To cram a foot so far up your mouth you can no longer walk?

Ugh. Forward. Just... forward. Take me to the mystery.

I am sick of this.

[Eclair Defies Disaster with Radiance: 10]

You would think that being tied up, helpless to aid your rescuer or foil your captor as they dueled for your fate, would be an easy job.

As it turns out! Nothing could be further from the truth! Being a captive is a tough job! Demanding! Crushing, even!

So, imagine a Where’s Waldo book. Somebody’s opens it to a random page right in front of your face, and you’ve got to find that Waldo and all his gang. You’ve got to. You can’t look at anything that isn’t red-and-white striped. Except the book’s being shaken, and you’re being shaken, and the pages are getting randomly flipped and so you have to start over and over again. Also Waldo might not exist. Doesn’t matter, you still can’t look at not-Waldos. No you can’t close your eyes. That doesn’t work. There’s too many muffled purrs and throaty moans. Can’t be done. Your only hope is to look, look, look, bounce around, never stop not looking, if you keep looking at new things then it’ll drown out the sights your eyes aren’t seeing and you’ll be fine. And, okay, maybe neither of them are going to notice where you’re looking, but somebody might be watching! They’ll know! And you’ll know! So this is a real and admirable job. It’s also only the first job.

Because guess what? That’s right! It’s geometry time!

Pop quiz: Assume a Nagi Princess that is a snake, and also a girl, of maybe probably comparable size to the average Golden Fawn, from the waist up. How long is her tongue? Don’t forget to show your work and also find Waldo.

If you get the answer right, then you can stop thinking about her tongue, and how long, and how wet, and how extraordinarily clever it is.

Work quickly. You’ll need the focus for

THE PHYSICAL CHALLENGE

That’s right! The art of being captured is a multidisciplinary field!

Grip strength. Can you keep holding Princess Suli’s hand? Can you keep holding it when her hand closes around yours? When she squeezes? When she rubs her thumb upppppp and downnnn the back of your hand, in slowwwwww circles, juuuuuuust barely pricking your skin with her long nails? Can you do all that and not die?

Oh, sorry, yes, you have to do all that without dying.

And then? This golden Nagi here? She’s going to rub. Your. Back. She’ll knead, and squeeze, and knead, and squeeze, and you’ll feel her breath shudder through her chest. Because that’s where your ears are. And the rest of your face. And most of your head, really. How’s that cardio of yours? Can you breathe normally? Can you breathe Normally? As you’re bounced and swayed and squished between them? As that hand works its way up, finds your hair, and starts teasing the curls by your horns? Just enough to be warmly ticklish. Not enough to get the good scritches. Close. Very close. Keep breathing. Never not breathing. We’re at the final test. It’s the most important one of all.

Constitution. Endurance. Fortitude.

For you see, Suli is pinning the rude Nagi with an effortless, glittering, half-lidded gaze as she smothers her with a kiss. They only break eye contact when the golden Nagi’s eyes roll back and flutter closed, and it feels like every muscle in her body goes slack at once.

The corner of Suli’s mouth quirks. A slight smile. You’d have to be this close to see it. To glory excessively in this moment would imply that this was anything but inevitable. So she does not.

Imagine what it must be like to be the gold Nagi. That’s not a question. You’re imagining what that must be like. It’s mandatory. It’s easy. It’s so easy, when Suli is squeezing your entire body in time to the kiss. She presses in as she deepens, squeezing pulses flowing up and down your body, drawing tight, shaking, shaking, shaking! So that when she mercifully draws back, even for half a breath, she’s gifted you an olympic-sized swimming pool to melt into. Somehow, you have to maintain a physical body under these conditions. Without any cheese and crackers to sustain you. Oh, or cider, some cider would taste so good right about now. Maybe lightly chilled, and someone could help bring the cup to your lips…

What’s that? Where’s Waldo? Erm, who’s Waldo? Sounds like a neat guy.

Anyway! That is to say! Hazel has been working very hard for a solid minute at one of the most difficult jobs in all of Thellamie. Which isn’t to say that Princess Suli has been working less hard. Rather, she’s not composed, and he’s hardly any better, on account of all the working so hard.

Right. So. Yes.

He ought to say something, shouldn’t he?

Con: He has to say something.

Pro: Somebody will be saying something, instead of nobody saying anything.

The answer is clear.

“Hiii, Suli.”

His voice, less so.

*********************

Inara!

Sorry, this is a bit unusual, but this does seem more like your territory. You’d know what best to say. Better than anyone present, that’s for sure.

You see, Princess Sulochana - that is, Suli, she’s going to have to look at him eventually. Especially when he starts talking. No, no, he’s not done talking yet. You know how he can’t help himself. When she does, if you’ve got a minute, could you please let her know that there is a tantalized, tantalizing deerboy gazing up at her? Blushing beneath his makeup, blinking as little as he can, breath coming in such little gasps, and - hrm, does “deer in the headlights” mean anything to you? It’s when a deer from Yukisearth sees something big and unstoppable and blindingly bright bearing down on it, and its unfortunate natural reaction is to freeze on the spot. Only - and this is important - this time it’s not fright.

Oh dear goodness it’s not fright

“Fancy meeting you here.” See? It’s like he’s reading from a script. Right there, it probably says -chuckle, sort of, maintaining eye contact.- “Good, uh, thanks. Thanks for that. I really appreciate it.” He can hardly remember if these are the right lines. He’s trying so hard to say the good words. “Do you know how to start a ball? I think I have to start a ball.” He has no excuse not to.

Somebody’s got to warn Suli. Hazel’s looking up at her expectantly, looking into her eyes, heart fluttering, without a bit of fear or caution. The situation is delicate. He’s so eager and needy for the fire in her eyes that the slightest push will send him sinking. For her. It hardly even matters where to. Just about anywhere would work, so long as she wields even a scrap of her true power.

Many things could happen next. Some of them entirely by chance and accident, and wouldn’t that be a shame? For the heart to miss such a moment, all because it was much too silly?

Please. If you are willing, put the question to Suli, as only you can.

If there is to be silliness, let it come from the heart.

Did you think it was easy to be a maid? It's really not. There's a reason they make such good detectives. If you're going to clean something, well, first of all, you have to identify something that needs cleaning. Do you even see all the things around you that might need that? What has become decorative and what is clutter? What is part of the ambience and what is out of place? If you're going to clean something, you have to make the decision that it needs cleaning and that means that you have to actually see it first.

On top of that, you have to know something about the order of the world. If you're cleaning the same place over and over, well, that's usually easy enough. When you start, you get some instruction about it. Perhaps from the owner or a more senior maid, or from whoever hired you if it's not one of those two options. They tell you what to do, and then the first time you do it, they tell you if you messed up or if something still needs doing and eventually you figure out that the only way to get the tile properly clean is with this brush and that cleaner and nothing else will do the job without leaving a nearly invisible layer of filth still present. Eventually, you know how to run a clean finger along a plate to be sure it's free of blemishes that your eye can't see. But if you're cleaning some new place, you need to have some idea of what the order of the place ought to be so that you can understand what's out of order.

And then...well then there's a question of tools. You know what needs doing and you've spotted what's out of place, but a fat lot of good that's going to do you if you don't have the right piece of equipment for the job. Imagine trying to sweep up the finest dust with a rough broom and a chipped dustpan. You might as well just kick it around with your foot at that point, your sock will get up more than your shoddy tools.

All of this to say that Yuki, instilled with what is very definitely the powerful magic of order stemming from the Civil Church and definitely not any other thing whatsoever, is a bit flummoxed right out of the gate. She has never been to this ballroom, had no hand in the decorating crew (having been under the "imprisonment" of Purnima until this evening) and has not even the slightest idea where they keep the mops. Which is a problem because the number one source of clutter that Yuki knows about is her own dress. Her own dress full of silver glitter that's been leaving a trail everywhere she walks, any place she leans, all the way to silver glitter trickling onto Civelia's face when Yuki had gone to help her.

Faced with this utter indecision, she does the only thing she can do. She pulls off her own dress in the sauna, does her best to carefully fold it over itself to cover the glittery tassels with the exterior so it will stop making a mess. Then, dressed in only a light shift underneath, she grabs the nearest towel she can find, dips it in the sauna water, and starts cleaning up the glitter from Civelia before moving out to the rest of the room.

Handmaidens!

Oh, Rurik. Dear, sweet Rurik. I am truly in awe of your memorizational abilities. But, perhaps, not in your sense of when and what to share. Some of the coded information in those genealogies — the choice of organization, the nicknames, the substitutions — would be dangerous if it got into the hands of someone like Walking Elm.

For that is the way of Aestival, yah? Nothing as it seems, especially the ridiculousness. The jokes are more than just part of the patter. Hidden in the names of those genealogies are keys to all sorts of wonderful goodies in the Stacks.

Which makes it all the more galling for me that Seli interrupts. Without even properly writing it down, even! Girl, do you know how desperately the High Council of Garnet desires the secrets hidden in “DRAGON PRINCESS, DRAGON PRINCESS II, DRAGON PRINCES”? Evidently not. This is quite lowering your score.

“Golden Years,” she says, placing her hands on his shoulders with uncharacteristic seriousness. “When I said I needed Heron—“

“We really do need her,” Keli continues. The brief swish of tail on tail would likely put the shiver up the spine of a younger man. “I promise, it’s impressive!”
“But we have to save a damsel in distress before the stroke of midnight—“
“If not before.”
“She’s impatient, yah?”
“Thank starlight Olly convinced her—“
“Not to have our heads—“
“As trophies, iyaah!”
“Which is why—“
“We must have Heron!”

---

Eclair Espoir!

Naturally, coming through the front entrance to the sauna is too perilous. That’s guarded, after all. And this is clearly not a time for delays or distractions.

Fortunately, there is an unobtrusive skylight. The sauna in question is a single-room cabin, the height of confidentiality, with Crevasi stained glass allowing light through but maintaining a veil of privacy. It is through this window that you make your entrance.

And through the haze of the Goodnight Special comes Timtam, on you before you’re even able to hit the ground. A flick of the hand and she has her fan, and all the passion of her heart is bound wickedly within it.

“Good evening, darling,” she purrs, hemming you in, not going for a decisive kill but also not yet turning to deal with the Heroine of Crevas, who is wiping at the floor in a simple shift. “Whatever could the Mystery Builder be doing, sneaking in here without an invitation? To finish the job, perhaps?”

And then she giggles, and it’s cute. It’s, dare I say, brat. Maybe it’s yet another of her wicked tools to knock you off balance (remember the firecrackers, don’t let those leave your memory), but… it sounds like she’s having fun.

---

Yuki Edogawa!

Fighting is often very untidy. Except, you know, when it’s a hot bit of foreplay, or when it’s being done with acceptable precision. Your friend Eclair Espoir was very good at knowing the difference.

Just reminding you of her. You know. For no particular reason.

---

Hazel!

I regret to inform you that Sulochana can hardly help herself. You feel yourself being pushed off that precipice, being pushed down, to where following Sulochana’s orders will be effortless and delightful. Because you want that, don’t you? You do want to obey.

What a good boy she’s got in her coils.

But before she can shove you into the Silly Zone, there is a polite little cough at her elbow, and a handsome boy happens to be standing there. “Ma’am,” Alcideo says with a smile and a half-bow, “here with a reminder that the ball is for dancing. I know he’s cute, but it would be a waste to leave this ballroom unused, wouldn’t it?”

The coils loosen. You have to find your own feet (don’t worry, Alcideo is there with a hand to cling to). She’s mortified, aware once again that everyone’s watching, and that her reputation is likely in tatters. But she gamely takes your hands and says:

“…would you. Would you like me to show you how we dance in Crevas? You’ll need to be able to keep up…”

Your feet are floating. She means to lead you through a shimmying Crevasi dance, all tummy sways and tail thumps (you can replicate them with a stomp of your hoof, if you like). If you don’t like it, she will be defeated here, and it will be a defeat that it is difficult to recover from.

Do you like it? Will you let her pick you up into the air over her head for the last pose?

Rurik!

"Well, my word," said the Seneschal. "That all sounds very dramatic, and suspiciously nonspecific, but as you might have been made aware tonight's Heron was actually the Dark Dragon in disguise and she threw a sword through me, so I am rather out of sorts. I have quite mislaid the real one amidst all the conclusion, but if you would like -"

It wasn't easy, pulling and unfurling a scroll and peacock quill from your pockets and setting into a standing-writing position, all in a single movement. The first few dozen times he'd tried it he'd torn the scroll, and then he'd fumbled the quill, and then he'd spent at least forty five attempts before he'd stopped drenching himself in ink[1], and not to mention all of his *other* maneuvers that got thrown off by a giant peacock feather being perpetually up his sleeve -

[1] His brother had suggested cutting the cool wrist-flick where he uncorked the ink bottle as part of the move, but there was a reason why he had not made the cut as the Princess' Seneschal.

"- I can take a letter!"

Assessment: this is nothing but a trick.

The mechanism is obvious: cherished hero and savior of Thellamie brought into contact with civilizational goddess and held... subdued? Captured? Merely manipulated? Uncertain and irrelevant. Witness testimony the only point. Goddess pulled into coma state via drug associated only with the Manor. Even if it is not widely known, minimal investigation will reveal it instantly.

Furthermore, a Civil Healer duels in front of said witness with the Mystery Builder. The moment a heartblade is drawn in response to threat, hidden camera within the room will capture sight, share with local authorities. Current identity compromised, proper name more firmly associated with with continued attempts on Civelia's life.

Assessment: Light is nevertheless necessary to counteract current attack patterns. No intention of fight-ending blow, no commitment, but base allowance of heartblows will inevitably turn into loss/loss of capabilities at critical escape juncture. In short, the creation of one hero and one villain in the span of a single night.

Best course of action, maintain manifested heartblade shards inside the Architect Knight. Use remainder of blade as coverings on fingertips, tip of right boot, and left knee. Weapons enough. Only defense is permitted. Perfect parry, no assault. Deflect trailing flourish to maintain control of exit path. Raise knee to interpose weight of body against attempted theft of mask. Prioritization: protection of identity and prevention of greater messes.

I will not trigger this latest trap. I will not blunder again. I will capture her here and now and drag her sorrowful ass back to the Headmistress who will extract a full confession and I will be done. I will be finished. The world will right itself and this feeling in my chest will release. I will!

I...

...Should not have said anything before I left. I should have said more. I should have said it better. Why didn't I say it better?! There are literally thousands of alternative confessions and all of them would have been better than this useless weakhearted line walking I attempted. Now she knows. Now she knows. She knows my horrible secret that I've kept hidden even from the other Aurorae. She knows that

Three finger block, spin. Single step back, capture fan between knee and, no. Miscalculated. Match spin, swing hand around. Failure to account for distance to wall? Not possible. Something is wrong. Why? Why why why why why? Why am I losing?! I'm better than she is! I'm supposed to be! I

...do not have a single romantic bone in my body. I am utterly incapable of charm or attraction, it is only my awkwardness and refusal to show flusterment in the face of maid aggression that earns me my reputation in the Great Game. A bluff mistaken for depth. A mask mistaken for a face. Silence mistaken for wisdom and courage and even beauty. And now she knows. Mayzie knows. Mayzie knows! I have no choice. As soon as I am free from this interminable distraction I will return. I will apologize. I will rescind every word. I have to make her understand. It's so selfish. I am so foolish. I cannot believe I

Wheeling backflip kick connects with opponent wrist. Why? What purpose did that move serve? Use of incorrect foot, only plain boot on flesh. Adjust. Shake head. Apologize? No, never! Plant... no, fuck. Fuck it, I need my swords!

"I am not here to trade words with you, villain. You have ruined everything. I am going to fix it. That is all there is to say."

I'm going to fix it, I'm going to fix it, I'm going to fix it, I've already had my breath, I proved myself in front of Hazel and that should have fixed everything that was broken inside of me. All that is left is to fix what is outside and that is why I will, why I will, why I will!

"WHY? AM I? NOT WINNING?? What did you do?! What did you hide, wretched fox?"

I am... jealous. There is nothing fun to be found here. So why does she get to laugh like that?

Assessment: The skill of the participants in this fight is laughably high. The civil healer is demonstrating trained assassin techniques with her fan movements. The mystery builder moves in ways that demonstrate near total mastery over her own body. It is reminiscent of the sword saint maneuvers of Eclair Espoir, whom Yuki has nearly but not quite met in person since her return to Thellamie, and who she dearly wishes to obtain sword lessons from.

Assessment: This fight is a mess. Look at how they're both moving. The healer isn't showing any of her cards at all and the mystery builder is obviously beside herself. Her movements are sublime, but erratic, interspersed intentionality with a sort of tunnel vision of movement and expression that makes Yuki wonder if she's even here at all. This isn't the first time Yuki has seen something like this. She learned fencing, and has done a lot of fencing. She's also played some poker and more than her share of video games. People get deep into this sort of thing sometimes. You'll see it when a fencer gets dunked on and can't figure out her opponent's move. She'll want to go again, and again, and again. And at some point if it's not working, it shifts from learning to a level of commitment where the mind stops working right. Each attempt gets more desperate and more erratic. Careful footwork giving way to reckless lunges. No water breaks, no calling the match. Eventually coaches intervene in that sort of thing before someone gets hurt. If they're paying attention at least.

Assessment: The Mystery Builder is tilted off the face of the planet.

There's only one thing to do in this situation: break up the fight before anybody gets hurt. And only one way to do it. The assassin Healer was paying attention to Yuki before, and she's the one who's impossible to read. Too dangerous. But the Mystery Builder has gone completely into tunnel vision.

On the next flying kick, a rolled up warm towel snaps out from maid in a shift who has been quietly watching the fight and catches the back foot of the Mystery Builder in a sudden sling. A single yank pulls her completely off balance, supporting foot turned into a face first tumble. Yuki is already rushing forward following her own pull, catching the Mystery Builder in her fall (that makes two maidens she's done this to tonight, if the dark dragon counts as a maiden). She's also not letting go, and is in fact hugging her tightly and pulling her away from the Healer Assassin, at whom she is also glaring. "Knights!" she calls, "Knights to Civelia!" as loud as she can.

Some weeks ago…

Hazel, at great personal risk, studies a foxgirl’s swaying hips.

“And lean-”
“And shift-”
“And relax-”
“And swish-!”

Seli and Keli, at no personal risk, drink in a deerboy’s hesitant hips.

“He’s learning quick, yah?”
“Yah, he’s a natural~”
“Are you sure you want a ball, Master~?”
“We could book you quite the show, Master~”
“Oh, but he so wanted to dance like the Nagi do…”
“Perhaps our Anat would be free?”
“ara ara, perhaps she would~”
“Only the best for our Maaaaster~”

Hazel, in the grassy plains, puts his foot down. Not rhythmically, of course.

“No! I mean, yes! Yes I am sure! We’re having a ball. And, to be clear, I’d like to learn more than just Crevas dancing. I don’t know how many styles of ballroom dancing there are in Thellamie, but I’d at least like to learn the major ones.

No! I mean, yes! Yes I am sure! We’re having a ball. A nice, normal ball. Everybody’ll get a chance to see me, nobody’ll burn down half of Vespergift, again, and if anybody tries then we’ll be well within our rights to disqualify them for arson. That’s it. No head-to-head competition. Everyone gets a fair chance. If my sluzhankas want to put on a show, then I can ask Olesya about what goes into a proper sluzhanka performance. I can get Deo to put in a request with Miss Yaz, no trouble at all.”

“But I’d much rather learn whatever dances you can teach me, not just Crevas dancing. I don’t know how many styles of ballroom dancing there are here, but I’d like to learn as many of the big ones as I can. Anyone hunting me is preparing for a ball with the Golden Fawn. The least I can do is make sure I can give them a good dance when their turn comes.”

Keli and Seli, in the grassy plains, drop their lowest curtseys. Not teasingly, of course.

“And here I thought you’d been charmed by a snake”
“When it couldn’t be further from the truth!”
“He’s much too thoughtful”
“He’s much too sweet”
“He’ll be prepared for anyone”
“He’ll be ready to kiss anyone”
“We’ll help, of course”
“Teach you to dance, of course”
“Unless you need other lessons~”
“Wicked sister! He still needs his legs”
“Mmm, we’ll teach you whatever you wish, Master~”
“But you’ll have to figure out the lifts yourself~”

“Wait, figure out the what now?”

***********************************************************

Today...

Well, Hazel?

Did you learn anything from the plantgirl, in this exact building? Or are you going to need three nickels?

Was it too much to ask for you to be normal for one night? For Suli?

Look at her. Some dance you’ve shown her.

Alas. Not only does Alcideo have to clean up his mess, but he can’t shrink into a hole and disappear forever while he’s being helped to his feet. “Thanks, Deo,” he whisper-mumbles.

“Don’t mention it. It would be a waste to leave your private room unused, wouldn’t it?”

I! You! What! Deo!!!!!

(Squeak. Earflop. Sputter. But there’s a few intelligible words. “Wasn’t!” “Single occupancy!” “Mean to me!!!” Fervent denial, uselessly flustered, but not really upset. Gets the point across. And Deo’s eyes are smiling. And the moment feels salvageable.)

Thus is the Golden Fawn delivered back into the hands of the Princess of Crevas; red-cheeked and articulationally challenged. But his eyes leap up, and up, and up her body, diving back to hers, graceful and unafraid. He nods (quickly, quickly, keep the rhythm…) far more than he needs to, and it says all that he needs to. As if such a thing could stop a goober of his caliber. “I’d love that. Lead on, your highness.” It is a proper address. It is so proper. Don’t come in here and act like it isn’t proper. See? It’s so proper, his eyes are twinkling and not even a giggle escapes his lips. The smile (scrunch the nose, just a little, don’t go full Photo Smile) is non-negotiable.

And so, as the band starts in on a lilting, Crevas melody, they sway together.

Boy, can he sway. Of all the things he can do, swaying is one of them. Even if he requires his whole brain and body to do it, on account of not being a snake. Picture the wave, traveling down Suli’s arms and effortlessly passing to his. Meet at the shoulders, build through his chest, down, down, down, cresting through his hips, his thighs, and flowing out the knees and ankles. Not through a step! Not through a step. The first steps are wrong (wincing, flinching, stupid) even as he keeps them as quiet as possible.

Thump!

No, no, he steps on the

Thump!

In time to the wave, on the right moment, you

Thump!
Stamp!

Yesssssssssssssssssss.

It takes all his concentration to sway, and to step. Some of the waves have to hurry up to make room for the next one. Some of the steps freeze in mid-air, hard stop for a half-beat, and then

Thump!
Stamp!

Always, he watches her face.

(Is she smiling? Is this better? No? Then the next wave will shimmy him extra wide. Hold him tight, he’s about to be very silly. And see how he lights up when stomp and thump ring out as one. Nothing beats a good beat. Is this better? Are you having fun?)

Except. Except?

Except when she lifts him.

Maybe it could be done. But it’s difficult and awkward to look for her eyes when he’s just been spun, laid atop her, and lifted from the hips in one smooth motion. Or maybe he’s floating, carried away by the swaying, undulating bed beneath him, scales and softness cradling his back. Back, and back they lean, and round, and round they go. A slow, languid comet, with his dress as the tail.

Maybe it could’ve been done. Not now. Not when the only place for his head to rest is her shoulder. The lights above them twinkle like stars. They shine down on his exposed neck. Perhaps there is a draft. Perhaps there is a wash of warm breath over his skin. That faint tingle could be anything. He couldn’t say.

Only when his feet find the ground again does he find his way back to her face. And isn’t it always a surprise to see it’s Suli, Princess Suli, he’s dancing with?

It’s also a surprise when the last lift keeps lifting, and keeps lifting, and keeps lifting. (Later, he’ll think, and he’ll agree that, yeah, the music reaching a crescendo maybe should’ve tipped him off.) There are, in this moment, one million different things he could be doing with his body, and he’s positive that most of them are wrong. But sometimes, the trick to not ruining everything is to just blunder on forward, and sort out the rest later.

So he freezes. In the position that feels the most natural. Suli holds him up. Her arms are solid. Firm. Unwavering. He has to balance a lot less than he expected to. He doesn’t have to balance at all, really. So. Could he maybe…?

Suli might feel a tingling in her hands. She might feel a boy tensing, focusing, and then?

She’ll be bathed in starlight, the light from the Golden Fawn radiating above her, and her glittering scales will be yet more indescribable.

Well, your highness?

Do you like it?

[Rolling for Emotional Support with Radiance: 6 + 4 + 2 + 1 (rhythm games) = 13]

Handmaidens!

There is an intensity that my girls can have, and I know you recognize it, because it is the same intensity that is within your heart, Rurik. I know the beachside where you grew up, the colors of the jeweled sands that burned bright in the morning sun, and I know how you turned your head away from the window to practice. To pursue your dream.

"Seli, I think-"
"He is asking for-"
"Specifics, yah?"

Oh, you, you Seneschal - you are double kabedon'd into a wall, in a move that would leave any fair maiden or silly boy breathless. Amethysts and emeralds, glittering under the low light of the Chrysanthemum's outer reaches - are they not the fairest treasures to come out of Aestival in this age?

"We mean-"
"To save-"
"An innocent."
"We mean-"
"To end-"
"A war."
"We mean-"
"To call-"
"The Hero."
"We mean-"
"No more-"
"No less."
"And if-"
"You will-"
"Not serve."
"We will-"
"Do what-"
"We must."
"Tell Heron that we must take the Stacks-"
"Or make a deal with the tree."
"I would not like that, yah?"
"No, Keli, not at all."
"But a maiden's heart is on the line."
"A maiden's life is on the line."

When they say this to you, Rurik, it is in the same way that you told yourself that you would one day serve Heron herself. It is an alignment of the self along a course of action that they will not be turned from. They are beautiful, and they are clever, and they will do anything tonight to achieve their ends. Even dealing with Walking Elm if Heron cannot help them.

---

Eclair Espoir!

In the arms of Yuki Edogawa, you see three things with crystal clarity.

You see the Paladins rushing in, led by the Idiot Chariot herself, all armor and starglasses indoors and burly bravado. There isn't enough room; they clog the doorway. They would throw down their lives to defend an innocent here and now, tonight, even if Aria Thendragon were to come to finish the job. But that is not what is asked of them in this moment. They cannot defend against someone like Timtam.

You see Timtam, with her back to the wall-mounted tablet which is taking sketches of the scene every twelve heartbeats, slip a mask out of her Civil's habit. It is a mask depicting Noon, all delight at a challenge, all agrin at having something to pit herself against. She presses it against her face, from brow to chin.

You see the smoke bomb which has fallen from her sleeve.

When it goes off, there is a scream - the scream of a terrified Civil. When it goes off, there is roiling smoke in your nostrils and in your eyes and in your ears. When it goes off, the Paladins stagger about, trying to get their hands on someone. And not too very long after it goes off, Timtam uses you as a springboard to get through the skylight.

When the smoke clears, Timtam is gone.

So is Civelia.

Take a Condition, dear. I'm sorry that it always seems to end up like this.

---

Yuki!

You feel the tension and the terror in Eclair Espoir. It's familiar, after all.

You feel, rather than see, what the smoke bomb going off does to her. It's like holding a trembling, terrified kitten in your arms.

You feel her racing heartbeat under your hand.

You feel someone jump off of her, and how she crumples back into your embrace. How she shakes. How she weeps.

And it's like being back in Thellamie the first time around, isn't it? When she didn't have any way to marshal her mutinous thoughts, when she couldn't think in a straight line without meandering, fretting, concentrating on the things she could organize. She was more than an Infinity Plus One Sword that needed to be repaired, back then - she was your friend. She needed your help.

She needs your help. Then and now are the same moment.

---

Hazel!

There is quite a bit of applause. For her. For you. But that doesn't matter to Princess Sulochana of Crevas, not as she rests her cheek against the hollow of your throat. You can feel the heat of her breath tickling against your chest as she pants in exertion, in excitement, in delight. It would be effortless for her to bite in this moment.

To mark you as hers.

She wants to do that.

Not to break the skin, of course, but to bruise. To claim. To make it so that everyone here tonight who looks at you knows that you belong to her. And she wants this because of what she has seen of you - what you, brave little Hazel, have revealed to her. And then she wants to coil around you and hold you tight and keep you safe from every other contestant for your hand. She wants to bring you expensive presents that, to her, are ordinary presents, just because the luster of this necklace made her think of your eyes, or because she heard that you liked a certain art piece and thought it would look nice in your room.

She shines in starlight, and for that moment, the two of you are the most real things in the room. No one can look away. No one can deny how you shine, and how she reflects your light. You shine a spotlight on her metaphysically, Hazel Valentine Fletcher. And I daresay everyone who looks at her, right now, takes a String on her for it. You have shown who she is.

And then the drumbeat falls heavy from the orchestra.

And then the Serigalamu flood the dance floor.

It's like being back in Crevas, isn't it? When you had to run? When they pursued, and no one could stand in their way?

But to their furs they have added rattling charms and bells. When they stomp their feet and their anklets rattle, it is in time to the drummers who have commandeered the orchestra pit. When they throw their heads back and set their bells trembling, their howls echo off the roof.

Under the watchful eye of the Khatun, Olesya strides towards you, level with you, each step held up by half a dozen huntresses. She is wearing a mask. Across the wood, bold colors in angular lines: this is a war-mask. This is a promise. This is a threat.

She offers her hand to you as the pack orbits around her like stars wheeling across the sky. This is, in fact, what they are doing. If you knew the deep mysticism of Thellamie, you would recognize that each and every Serigalamu dancer is a star; you would see the constellations they make as they shake and stamp and howl. Olesya is, in this moment, symbolic of the very stars who ordained this for you.

She reaches her hand out to receive you. To take her turn at the dance.

She does not want to dance with you.

She must dance with you.

The Khatun commands. All obey.

Hey.

Uh.

Sorry.

About this.

I just.

Uh.

Do you mind if we.

Uh.

Zoom out?

A little bit?

Here.

I'll set the scene for you.

You should.

Uh.

Trust me.

We don't.

Uh.

Want to get.

Mm.

Any closer.

Than this.

This is.

Uh.

Awkward.

Why do I get stuck with all the hard jobs?

'Cuz I'm Erika Fullbright, genius detective.

Obvs.

But that's not.

Ok look.

Never mind.

Are we past it yet?

Ok.

Right. Well. Anyway. What I need for you to understand. That is, like, what I'm here to try and explain is...

'Cuz Eclair can't right now. She is completely shut off, ok? As far as you and I are concerned she basically doesn't exist right now, except as an inert shell that'll reboot after she's had enough time to cool some of her mental systems down from Screaming Fire. Not that she'll be well, I shouldn't imagine. The farthest thing from it, really. But she'll exist and she'll be able to tell you how she's feeling again.

It'll suck.

I'm here to save you from that.

Well, a bit.

Oh, I called her 'inert' just now, didn't I? Well that's not really accurate. I mean mentally it is, there are no thoughts inside that beautiful head of hers. None that you'd recognize, at least. But she is, um. Moving? As a point of fact she is actively thrashing in the grip of one Yuki Edogawa, and I will be very surprised if the heroine of Crevas doesn't get punched in the face several times in the process of holding the so-called "Hero of Vespergift" down.

Which, it's very important that she does that! Vitally important, really. Eclair will stand up under her own power if anyone lets her. See, she's not... ok let's just wind back to my original point. It isn't the smoke that's doing this. Sensory overload and blah blah blah. She reacts very negatively to it, right? You'd think that'd mean it's disabling, right? But you'd be wrong. It's really a lot sadder than.

Uh.

Than that.

Mm. Well. Unexpected noises, scents, all that delightful information that filters in too fast to make sense of without proper tools... what it does is it. Hm. What's the polite way to put this? Let's just go ahead and say it "occupies" her higher functions. If you could read her thoughts, and if you could make anything out through all the noise you'd pick out, you'd notice a lot of very rapid observational points about everything around her. Absolutely everything, down to the last grain of dust (sorry little Edogawa, for a first-time Maid you did great!).

But when all of that is tied up in processing without any, like, direction to it? She becomes ruled by all of her lower functions. Her very freaked out lower functions that see a world full of threats and just want to get the hell out. So if she stands up, that's the end. Everybody here will find out what the true form of her heartblade looks like and they'll have a lot of time to talk about how cool it was while they're recovering from having the snot beaten out of them by an Avel who is at the absolute worst a top five combatant across the whole of Thellamie.

So it's not rebuke of her arrogance that brought her here, either. But anyway, just yeah. She needs to be held onto right now. Do that and she'll writhe (and punch!) and she'll howl (and punch!) and she might even use a word or six, and yes they will be some of the most hateful and hurtful things a body can say, but they're not real. They don't come from inside her, 'cuz like I already said she doesn't exist right now.

But yeah, arrogance.

Or rather.

Uh.

Not. Yeah. How about I just cut to the chase while you lot deal with... all of... this. I'm really sorry, by the way. If the shoe was on the other foot I promise I'd be a lot sweeter about it than she is. The killer point here is that Eclair made a mistake. Several of them, in a row. She rushed her assumptions against the insistence of her own processes and went for the kill because, I dunno, I guess she thought she could just hands diff her way out of needing to be a detective?

So she got out-thought. And out-planned. And of course she did? She didn't think! She didn't plan! She rushed into a trap knowing that it was one and didn't even prepare a method of information gathering to come out ahead in the long term! Eclair just lost. And she is not a humble person, ok? She can't handle that at aaaaallllll.

It's a dereliction of duty, is what it is. She'll blame all kinds of things and people, when she wakes up. Yuki, for one. Mayzie, for another. The Order, the Civils, maybe she'll wrap this back around to hating Vespergift again, I couldn't tell you from here. But what's really going to kill her after that venom dissipates is that she can't hack it anymore. Timtam wants this more than she does. And what does that even mean for the 'Investigative Knight of the Aurora'?

...Ok. Ok ok ok ok, I feel really super bad about sticking my nose in here like this and then dumping all of this depressing nonsense at your feet. It's not like I'm going to help you clean it up, is it? I'm a detective. I find things, that's my job. Cleaning them is someone else's responsibility. And that's really the problem Eclair is going to have to solve in the end, don't you think? But no, I feel just awful leaving it all like this. So I'm going to tell you ooooooonnne secret.

There's a word I'd like you to remember, when it all looks bleak and [Hopeless]. It's an almost uselessly specific word, which I think is kind of nice because the meaning of it is basically to clear up or shed a light on something obscure. Something that isn't easily understood, you see. I don't think anyone in Thellamie has ever been more perfectly named in the history of existence. And this is your hint, ok? Or your Hope maybe, if you prefer to think of it like that. If you say it out loud, it goes like this:

Éclaircissement.

The Golden Fawn starts, as if awoken from a dream. Sacred or scared, glorious or gangly, a fawn must heed the hunter’s drums. See the beat echo in his chest. Fly! Fly! Fang and claw! Net and snare! Away! Away! Were he not held fast, surely he would have run. Were it anyone less than the Princess of Crevas, surely the tide would have swept him away. Even now he watches their spinning patterns, seeking the hidden trails, searching for a way of escape. (Goodness. This is an awful lot of hunter for one deerboy.) But there is no escaping the Khatun. But there is no escaping her Bagyum.

Well, Fawn? The huntress has come to claim her right. Will it be given willingly? Or must she take it?

(Olesya is the center of the sky. On her shoulders, all the stars turn. All she has is a pink dress, black leathers, and a mask of war. This is enough. This does not diminish her.

The drums. The drums. Heavy blows dance on the off beat. Too swift for stomping feet to follow. Too thunderous to resist chasing. Faster, faster! Horns and strings flutter like ribbons. Horns and strings to carry you forward. Forward, through a sea of bells and howls.

If only Juni could see this. From here.)

Ah, that he has not lost his tongue or nerve is testament to the star’s wisdom. For the Golden Fawn looks to his dance partner.

The Golden Fawn looks at his dance partner.

The Golden Fawn stares at his dance partner.

(The Golden Fawn forgot how close his dance partner’s face would be.)

The Golden Fawn speaks a whisper. For her, and her alone.

“Crevas dancing is incredible. Thank you. I’d love to see more sometime.”

(She felt him go limp, laying all his weight in her arms as his breath escaped him. She felt him glow, steam and starlight burning bright. She felt him stiffen, and tremble, when the suggestion of teeth whispered across his bare neck.)

His courtesies are done. (The Khatun is watching.) He cannot tarry any longer. (The Khatun is watching.) The Golden Fawn has promised a dance to all who would seek him. Only by this promise are the hunters contained to this ballroom. It is a promise he must not break. (The Khatun expects Olesya to win.) With all the courage in his thin frame, he meets the iron gaze of the Bagyum. How, precisely, he is meant to curtsey while being held aloft by a Nagi is a mystery, but he does his level best. (As he is expected to.) And he rises, and he

leaps

(Brave, silly boy…)

to the Princess of Wolves

(Does not know what he is getting himself into…)

where she will seize hold of him

(Right where she wants him…)

and he will not escape her.

(All obey as the Khatun commands. She has nothing to fear.

Especially not whatever Hazel may say to Olesya, in the privacy of her arms.)

Rurik!

There is only one Hero of Ages.

It hurts to learn this. It hurts to know that your dreams are dreams. It hurts to know that you might not explore the world, you might not find love, you might never see the dresses you have made worn, that your youth might slip away unacknowledged and leave you in an autumn of regret. It hurts to consider the weight of duty. The sacrifices that must be made to keep the Thellamie from the jaws of entropy and all her vicious children. It hurts to know that there is only one Hero of Ages, and you are not her. It hurts to know that she is desired and that you are not, and it hurts to know that it is your fault[1] that her absence will hurt more than yours.



There is so much hurt in that moment it wants to reach out and break hearts in return. The hurt wants to connect, to show these two brave girls that the world is hard, actually, and the sooner they learn that the better. That it's better to realize the sadness of it all when you are young so you have more time to get used to it. Better the sadness than the anger. Better the sadness than the endless negotiations with ghosts in your head. The sooner he could get them there...

His lip twitches.

There is only one Hero of Ages.

"I am no deerlet to be woven with riddles and eyelashes. Be specific what it is you require," said Rurik, pushing their hands from his shoulders. "Whose heart and life is on the line? How? And tell me too what deal you might make with Walking Elm. Give me the facts with none of the sauce and I shall decide if this matter is worthy of -" the Hero of Ages "- my attention."

At first, Yuki was serene, as the scene was serene. There was a moment where everything had simply come to a stop. Perhaps this was all part of Timtam's calculations. Or perhaps not, calculating exactly how multiple people behave is eminently doable but not with any sort of certainty. There is Eclair ripped out of her movements into sudden, surprised stillness. There is Yuki, with one hand cradling Eclair's shoulders as Eclair's head is pressed into the crook of Yuki's arm, while Yuki's other other arm is curled above Eclair's waist for balance and stability. And there is Timtam, who had been defending a series of blows with her fan staring at them both. Before Yuki calls for help, before anyone moves.

Yuki almost didn't break the spell, but confronted with all this, she just didn't know what to do but call for help, and so she did. And so Timtam started moving, and the knights started entering, and then there was the smoke bomb and the sudden jump that pushed Yuki backwards (though she had long ago learned how to set her feet properly for balance and so she did not fall or lose her grip). And then, then there is the sudden spike of a hearbeat, and the struggle, and that all important first moment when Yuki's arms both tense and she does not lose her grip and loose a wild and maddened beast into the room.

There is a way of holding someone that is just fundamentally natural to the human body. The space of our arms, our chests and our heads make a natural fit for another person. So when Yuki feels that start, she instinctively presses close. Brings her head down, her arm further over. It is the feeling of needing to protect someone, no, not even feeling but instinct, the sort of autonomous response that your body carries out without the need for thought. To be a shield. From the smoke and noise, from the fear, from the pain.

Memories flash back to Yuki of her first adventure. Of two gangly youths. Yuki gallantly waving her sword about with no skill at all, while the young maid knight already took every step with the care and precision of a ballet dancer. Even though those steps were aimless and she kept stopping and changing direction, muttering, searching, then losing herself in a different thought, each one was perfect. Yuki remembered that so vividly. The way that Eclair broadcast distress with her body because it was so obvious how controlled and trained her motions were and yet how confused her mind was in directing them. All for a lost notebook. Eclair constantly retracing her steps in a mirror of Yuki's journey, teasing out details of her work as they met in different places, the need for Eclair to externalize her thoughts, to have confidence that she wouldn't lose them later, to be able to review with different thinking. While Yuki had charged bravely forward, finding the notebook over the course of trading through the Crevas markets and returning it to Eclair as a helpful friend, expecting nothing. Little had she known how far over her head she would be after Seli and Keli "helped" her into Azaza's fortress. And how the timely assistance of a maid with a mind sharper than sword would save them all.

"Bitch!" echoes through the room as Eclair squirms and kicks and Yuki doubles down around her, twisting further to put her shoulder between Eclair and the source of the smoke, and the advancing paladins. The only motion from Yuki besides her tension is a single gentle rubbing, the hand on Eclairs back slowly, carefully massaging between the shoulder blades and down to the center of the back and then back up. Never releasing, but gently rubbing and soothing as much as she's able.

"I'm sorry" she whispers, close to Eclair's ear. "I'm sorry, and I am not sorry, and I am so sorry." She says. And she says "shhhhh" and she is present. There will be questions, of course. Civelia gone! The Mystery Builder mysteriously in Yuki's arms, Yuki herself undressed and the civil attendant gone with a smoke bomb of all things before anyone was the wiser. But if there is one thing that Yuki is learning as a knight and...no as a person, as herself it is this: that when she's with someone and they desperately need help, everything else goes right out of her mind and she helps.

She does not notice it herself, but she has begun to hum softly. She picked the first soothing song that came to her mind: Zelda's Lullaby.

Aadya, the Rock upon a Mountain!

I'm not sure that you're sure yet why you ordered your sisters-in-arms out. It takes time for a thought to get going in your head, darling, but once it picks up speed...

The three of you. Alone, in this warm mist. Your skin prickles underneath your armor, and it yearns to be removed. But not yet. Your duty is not discharged yet. You've faced more uncomfortable things than this in the monastery where you trained as a girl, so close to starlight that it would have driven you giddy with light if you'd taken your starglasses off, so high up that the air was as clear and sharp as a glass knife. This is nothing. You have a duty to fulfill.

"Yuki," you say, squatting low, looking at the supine heroine of Vespergift in your bestie's arms. "I need you to explain what's going on. Please."

You're so close to things making sense. You can almost taste the certainty, the victory, the euphoria of knowing that you have done your job and that you are a good girl. You just need it to be the right victory. Or none of it will matter. A hollow triumph is nothing. Not for the Rock upon a Mountain.

---

Eclair Espoir!

You can be involved with Yuki and Aadya as you please, or continue to be a sniffly mess, but I would like for you to know that somewhere, out there, Mayzie is looking for you. It felt important to tell you right here and now, miss.

---

Handmaidens!

Here it is, laid out plain in between two bountiful darlings:

It is clear that Olesya, Baygum of the Khaganate, is not herself tonight. She is reckless and foolhardy and wearing a pink dress with frills. She is bursting into rooms to manhandle and kiss silly boys. She is making foolish decisions, hurtling herself towards Hazel Valentine Fletcher over and over again.

Look to love. But not love of him, yah?

Her heart belongs to a Civil who went west and got roped up into the dominance games of the Khaganate: Sister Juniper. And have you not heard that there is strife, Handmaidens of the Hero of Ages? A clash increasingly obvious between the Khatun and Civelia for the heart of Thellamie. And here is a boy who she would have for her daughter, and here is a Civil who has forgotten her place.

They are afraid, though they mask it behind laughter and sharp looks and tosses of their hair. They are afraid that if Olesya fails in winning Hazel tonight, then Juniper will never be seen again. Maybe that will be the case anyhow. Maybe the idea of Juniper will be used to string Olesya along into marriage with a deerboy she does not love, save in that she wants to protect him and keep him safe, but the reality of Juniper - the laughter, the silly gasps, the overeager desire to help - will be gone.

If they can find and save Juniper tonight, then they can change the fate of Thellamie. That's why they need a true-blue hero on their side, Handmaidens. That's why they're about ready to pick Rurik up and shake him by the ankles until a Heron falls out, too. Do you think they'll reach that point?

---

Hazel!

There is a gasp. There is a roar of applause (from everyone still brave enough to be in attendance, which is more than you might think). Because, upheld on the hands of the Khaganate, Olesya spins you, my dear little Hazel, around and around, your feet swinging over their heads, each turn bringing you closer up against her, each turn bringing you ever more crushingly close into her arms.

And you can feel her heart beat to the beat of the drums. Oh, what a shame that you came here with someone. But while you're here in her arms, she'll make the most of the night like she's going to die young.

Or someone will, at any rate.

She cups your chin and forces your head back, no, pushes all of you into a swoon, and then she's got an arm under your knees and she's swinging you up into her arms again, cradling you, keeping you close, keeping you hers in the midst of the whole room.

"You're... like a princess..." she manages. And you can tell, Hazel. Oh, how you can tell. Out of everything she's ever said to you, this might be the truest, the one she means the most. And if she has to win you, well, perhaps that's the first step. Seeing how your eyes sparkle and how your knees are tucked up under her arm as she jumps up into the air, does kicks that would split a lesser woman in half, and then lands on a pyramid of huntresses.

Pretending, for the space of a dance, that you might be her princess.

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╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗╗
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Is

It

O

K

To

...Sleep?

Raindrops falling softly on a field of Irises.
Gentle blue-purple.
Catching.
Caressed.
Release.
The soft patter of droplets on worn down river rocks.
Green and Grey and Red.
The colors begin a delicate dance in the warm, wet breeze.
Lyrical.
The clatter against the window pane.
Free of dust.
Free of conflict.
Washed away.

Eclair moans and turns toward a noise she heard in some distant plane of reality.

Her chin glistens.

Her teeth unclench.

Her muscles loosen.

Her arm drops slack, letting her fingers fall 'splash' into the bath.

Her neck lolls.

Eclair moans a second time, and her breathing steadies.

Quiet. Finally quiet. It is ok. It is.

She settles into heavy sleep. Seeking Mayzie. Being sought in turn.

Yuki holds Eclair softly. She breathes a sigh herself as the woman in her arms relaxes. Eclair Espoir, her friend from long ago. Her salvation, her silly maid. Yuki's own tail stops twitching and itself relaxes. She sits in the warm sauna and she cradles the head of her friend in her elbow and speaks softly to Aadya over the sizzle of the water on coals that helps to clear out the last vestiges of smoke with cleansing steam.

"Civelia is gone. Through the skylight I think. The uh...Civil Nun, er Civil Nurse, whoever was in here treating her was a spy or something. She had a hidden weapon fan, and she dropped the smoke bomb, and I felt her jump up and through the skylight, with Civelia I think. I don't know what she wants from the Goddess. I don't remember much about her either, but she had orange, curly hair. And she seemed a little fussy. Also she was like an S-tier duelist, I've never seen anybody fight that well. The uh..." (Don't say Eclair, you know Eclair is wanted and this isn't the time to try sway Aadya), "...the Mystery Builder came in through the skylight and tried to fight the Nurse that was in here, but she um...didn't win. And she um...wasn't okay which is why I'm helping her. I think...maybe you saved us, Aadya. If you hadn't come in, I couldn't have stopped whoever the Nun spy was. So she escaped but you saved us. Thanks."

Yuki lets out a sigh. Her arms are strong and gentle and she cradles her sleeping friend delicately. But from her mouth there is a sigh and she does not know what to do or how to move, or what comes next. So she is going to stay here and protect her friend and help Aadya however she can while doing those first two things. Although she does think that maybe they should turn off the sauna before everybody gets too hot if they're going to be here a while.

Rurik!

"A tragic tale," said Rurik. "But why are you, Seli and Keli, the ones telling it?"

He is upside down and being shaken by his ankles. He is maintaining a shocking level of decorum despite this. Were someone to visit his home they would find a mysteriously large wheel outside, one upon which the Seneschal was tied and spun while reciting all ten thousand pages of the Dhorma Protocol.

"Do you have some personal connection to Ms. Juniper?" said Rurik. "A particular passion for uniting true love? You are simply extremely invested in changing the fate of Thellamie? Or is there another paw at work here - one that seeks to remove a rival for the Faun? And given the particularly last minute nature of your shakedown, one who perhaps had other plans for Heron and Civelia that were thrown into chaos by discovering that the Dark Dragon was disguised as Heron during that fateful dance and poisoning? It would be very convenient for such a figure to draw Princess Heron out into the open again now that they have lost track of her, with a bait deliciously set with a tale of star-crossed lovers."

He smiled as coins fell out of his pockets and disturbed his mustache. "Look to love, as the wise woman says. But not love of her - yah?"