Archive of Our Own

Renathal slid from the bed. He stretched so his spine crackled, sheet marks embedded in his skin. Theotar lay on his side, hugging his new diary to his chest in his sleep. Renathal watched him. A smile curled Theotar's mouth and softened. Renathal leaned over the bed and kissed the crest of his cheek.

"Husband," he said.

Seven years, and it never got old.

Castle Nathria stood tall enough that one could see nearly all of Revendreth. Renathal went to the bedroom's balcony, naked save the products of his anniversary the night before, and leaned over the railing to inspect the wards in the distance.

To the west, dredgers scurried, too small to see, and Bigguns hauled building materials. The scaffolding on Sinfall Tower might have been threads at such a distance. The ruined side of the tower had closed like a wound over the course of two years. Only a hole left it open to the blazing sky.

The land healed.

Seven bloody years, and the trauma Denathrius inflicted still ebbed, one brick at a time.

Renathal grinned as Theotar leaned against his back and hugged him. "May we go home soon?" Theotar said against the skin between his shoulder blades.

"A visit, perhaps. I'd like to see how the land around the bog is coming along."

"You know that is not what I meant." Theotar kissed his back and leaned against the railing, close enough to pull Renathal's arm around his shoulders. "I miss Sinfall."

"I know."

"I do not like being so far from my dowsabel."

Renathal sighed. "I know, my love."

"She must be so lonely."

Renathal stared at Darkwall Tower, all but rebuilt, its gardens lush with silver roses. Only weeks before, they had taken armloads of blossoms to Gwennit's grave, as they did every year on the date of her death. Theotar visited her most days. Dreamed of her many nights, no matter how much time passed.

Renathal tried yet again to remember her smile. The image gathered in his mind--and failed.

Theotar kissed his cheek, oblivious, and returned to peering towards the Ember Ward.

Renathal nuzzled his head. "What are your plans before you do battle with your charges? Going to the Verdant Ward?"

"Battle!" Theotar scoffed. "They are children! But, yes. It is yet far more Ember than Verdant, alas. I cannot wait for the orchards to return."

"Back for lunch, or taking a picnic?"

"I think I shall luncheon with Gwennit." Theotar put his hand to his chest. His gaze turned distant. "Sometimes, I think I can feel her."

"As you've said."

"Perhaps she escaped the Maw? She was a Maw Walker."

"Perhaps."

Theotar settled closer and rubbed Renathal's back. "You know better, my husband. Yet I do not."

"'Husband'. One day, I'll wake back in Sinfall, and it will have been a dream."

"You have so little faith, my love!" Theotar motioned across their view of Revendreth. "Look, see all you have done! The Ember Ward is no longer filled with exiles! Denathrius's loyalists have repented, or are no more! Mihaela is a brilliant Harvester and a master of envy, and Kael'thas is settling into his dreadful role beautifully! You and the Court have done so very much for our home. Yet I fear nothing will ever be enough for you. Will it?"

"I don't know." Renathal folded his arms. A breeze cut across the balcony and pushed his hair across his face. "After all my failings...."

"Renathal, look at me."

Renathal lowered his head. Theotar rested three fingers beneath his chin and turned his head to face him.

"You must forgive yourself, my prince. My dearest prince. You have more than made up for the things that haunt you."

"No, I can't---"

"You have." Theotar stroked Renathal's beard, his pathetic little patch, nowhere enough for a proper venthyr. "Revendreth flourishes under your hand. The Court of Harvesters flourishes! Our relations with the other realms have never been stronger."

"I can't remember what she looked like."

Theotar stopped. He stared, silent, only to sigh and hug Renathal.

"I find myself failing in that regard, too, my love. I can hardly bear it."

"Why did we not commission a portrait? Duchess Sinfall deserves that much. Preserved in her finery. Or covered in mud and bat shit."

"I will never understand why I give my heart to rascals with more love for muck than manners!"

Renathal snorted. "And I'll never understand what I see in my fussy prince." He laid his arms over Theotar's shoulders and held his lovely, thick hair, shining like copper in the subtlety of Revendreth's morning light. "You're lucky you're cute."

"Hmph!" Theotar kissed him, and again. The spice of anima floated on the air. The red sparks that once danced around the castle's spires had not yet returned, but they would come, and the sooner anima rationing ended, the happier the useless nobility would be.

"My darling stable boy." Theotar kissed Renathal once more and stepped back. Their dried spend flaked from his belly. "You need a bath and your crown. Or clothing, anyhow. I don't like you in the crown. You remind me of the Sire."

"Which is why I don't wear it any more."

Theotar leaned against the balcony. He all but glowed in the overcast morning, as all mornings in Revendreth were overcast, dim as storms so any light drew the eye. Theotar, clever and mad and tender and somehow his, was and would remain the greatest of lights.

Renathal kissed him once more, a gentle touch that both teased and relented. "Would you care to bathe with me?"

"Hmm." Theotar ran his nails up Renathal's back. "I think I would like to enjoy what I have of last night."

"Theotar!"

Theotar tutted as he strode into their bedroom. "Fine, fine, I will bathe with you. Only, there is something...."

He pressed his hand to his chest. Their soulbind tightened.

Renathal hugged him from behind. "What is it?"

Theotar shook his head. "An old man's madness."

"Ah. Shall I keep Vorpalia at hand?"

Theotar looked at him. Cocked his head. His gaze turned distant. "No. No. I think--I think this is something greater than either of us could know."

#

Inquisitor Clara finally found Kassir outside Vasili's presence, and got permission to examine crypts. Really, the two of them were worse than the princes. At least they detached long enough to finish some work. Worse, the Accuser herself made Kassir and Vasili's excuses.

Clara flipped through Kassir's massive ring of keys, which she had sworn to protect with every drop of anima in her body. On the fourth try, she unlocked her ninth crypt of the day. After half a dozen attacks by stray manifestations and angry spirits, lunch sounded pleasant, as did a cider at the Darkhaven pub. The disreputable one. The one owned by the Harvester of Envy's wife. The one with the mysterious rooms upstairs, and the sign reading, "Services by Invitation Only."

"All right, you lot, behave yourselves. I'm not afraid to reduce you to ash." Clara put her hands on her hips and glared at the souls left to mellow in the crypt.

They watched in silence. Nice change from the rest of the day. It was not her fault it took so long to get to them! Between the venthyr population getting cut in half, and souls pouring in left and right, being on schedule was as likely as Sire Denathrius erupting naked from a cake.

Clara frowned. At the back of the crypt, a soul stood apart from the rest. To unnerve Revendreth souls, it must have been a nasty bastard indeed. Possibly even worse than Tod the Ogre, who had run a bakery selling bread made from puppets and navel pickings, and petted cats the wrong way.

She squeezed between the crypt's souls and crouched to read the scary one's sinstone. No shards lay on the floor. Whatever it had done, it was proud enough to let the stone write itself. Something like an umbilical grew from its chest. A soulbind, maybe. Maw Walker, then, though not many had been laden with the sort of sin that frightened others.

Twice, Annabell Miller died protecting her children. Revendreth purged her of cowardice, and she sacrificed herself to purge the Shadowlands of the Jailer's hold. She was offered Bastion for her service, yet chose Revendreth for love.

Clara read the stone twice, and ordered a stone fiend to get the Accuser.

"I was in the middle of updating records!" the Accuser shouted ten minutes later. She huffed as she marched up the path. "What's going on that you need to interrupt my work?"

Clara pointed to the soul, which hovered in place outside its closed and locked crypt.

"What can you not handle about a soul? A deferential one at that. What's got you so unnerved?" The Accuser hiked her skirts and knelt to read the stone. "If I'd known a stone was involved, I'd have brought my--my specs."

Her mouth fell open. The breeze caught her curls.

"No," she whispered. "It can't be."

"The Arbiter's not bollocksed up already, has he? We're not even finished with rationing!"

"Shh!" The Accuser gripped the soul's sinstone as she read it once more. "Show yourself!"

The soul rippled. A faint blue tinge formed and vanished.

"Spirit, I command you to show yourself!"

Once more, it rippled, and swelled into a woman in a coarse robe. It tugged its hood over its face until the Accuser ordered her three times to lower it, a dangerous edge in her voice. The soul hesitated, but obeyed.

Clara stared at the destruction the soul had suffered. The Accuser clapped her hand to her mouth. She fell on her backside. "Clara, go and fetch Renathal and Theotar. Tell them it's urgent."

The soul lifted its head. It refused to speak, or perhaps could not do so, given the state of it. By the look on its face, they might have offered it unlimited anima at the height of the drought.

Clara took a step backwards. Another.

"Clara! Go!"

She bolted. Her shoes clattered on the stones all the way to the cathedral. Two floors up, panting, she reached the mirror to Castle Nathria. It spat her just outside the looming gate. Two hulking Stoneborn stopped her before she could wrench the thing open.

"The Accuser needs--needs the--the princes--catch m'breath." Clara leaned forward, hands on her knees, and fought for air.

"Why?" One of the Stoneborn said. "His Highness is busy, and His Other Highness is elsewhere."

"Sinstone--Bastion--soulbind---"

"It's a bit early to be drinking."

Clara glared. Bloody Stoneborn. Dense as rocks, and twice as immovable.

One sighed and opened the gate. A butler met Clara just inside. He led her up flights of stairs, down a back hallway, up the servants' stairs, and knocked on a plain door at the end of the hall.

A groan came from inside, and the clatter of a pen against wood. "I swear upon the Sire's name, Bogdan, if Duke Sourwine is here again about either rations or the constitution---"

"It's a messenger from the Halls of Atonement, sir."

A sigh. A thump. Scrabbling. "Fine. Send them in."

In what might have once been a servant's bedroom, Prince Renathal slumped over a plain wooden desk. His waistcoat lay on the floor with his boots, and his ink-stained shirt's laces hung loose. Clara looked around for mirrors or doors that might lead somewhere more fitting to his station. Prince Renathal rubbed his eyes, and looked up with his eyelids covered in ink.

"Is this your study, Your Highness?" Clara said.

"It's quiet." The prince capped his inkwell. "Do you need something?"

At the plaintive edge in his voice, Clara nearly apologised and left. She cleared her throat.

"There's an odd soul, sir. Stone said it was meant for Bastion."

"Mix-up. They happen once in a long while. Send it off. Tell Kyrestia she's got one of ours. Sire knows how long the poor thing's been here."

"But, sir, it says the soul chose Revendreth. For love."

Prince Renathal went still. He looked up, moving only his eyes. "Has it got a soulbind?"

"Yes, sir. I think it's one."

"Its name."

"Sir?"

"Its name!"

"I, er. I don't remember, sir. Started with an--an A. Anna? Annabell? I think it's Annabell."

Prince Renathal slumped. "Ah."

"It had sort of a funny blue flash. First time the Accuser told it to show itself. It's a mage, maybe? Unfashionable warlock? It seemed to want its hood over its face. Stone said something about the Jailer, but I think it was a Maw Walker."

The prince lifted his head. His lower lip hung. Clara stepped closer. "Sir---

She yelped as he bolted past her and down the hall. "Bogdan! Bogdan!"

"Sir?"

"Theotar. Meet me. Halls of Atonement."

Clara crept up the hall. At the top of the stairs, she bumped into the butler, who held a pair of boots and a waistcoat.

"The princes will meet you inside the cathedral, at the mirror," he said. "Wait for both of them. I expect they'll be on pins."

Clara nodded and went downst---

"Please." The butler's voice turned soft. "If this soul isn't the one they're looking for, be kind."

Clara nodded. She had only ever heard of one mortal connected with the princes. But that one had gone to....

The butler swept past her and down the stairs.

#

Theotar fidgeted in the Halls of Atonement. Renathal gripped his hand in both of his inky ones. He had got ink on his eyes again, the silly thing. They stood at the edge of a circle of inquisitors, the Accuser among them. In the middle, a soul hovered, its stone on its back.

"You're thumping your foot," Renathal murmured.

"And you are quivering like a gargon at the edge of a bog, my dear."

Despite Renathal's snort, Theotar watched the soul just out of his reach. His chest itched, as though a soulbind had formed anew. He gripped Renathal's hands with both of his own lest he strain to touch it. A steady tapping filled the air. He looked down, and pressed his foot to the stones.

"As this soul chose to come here," the Accuser said, "we shall give skip the usual trials. Given she was meant for Bastion, I hope our trust is not misplaced."

"Bastion?" Theotar swallowed a bitter taste. "My dowsabel would rather suffer the Maw!"

Renathal kissed Theotar's head and cleared his throat. "May we vouch for her? Assuming this really is Duchess Sinfall. Can she speak at all?"

"Given the state she's in, I doubt it." The Accuser glanced at them. "But, yes. You may vouch."

Theotar let go of Renathal's hands. "Dowsabel? Will you let me see you? Before I speak. I cannot trust myself. Cannot trust our soulbind. Please, show me. Otherwise, I shall break."

The soul shivered, and swelled into a robed, hooded figure. She pushed the hood back far enough to bare her face.

Gwennit smiled as though she would crumble if he turned away.

Theotar choked as he covered his mouth. "My duchess. Oh, my duchess, I should have known. I should have felt you---"

Renathal nudged him. "Hurry. Vouch."

"Yes. Vouch. Vouch! Ah, but what to say? My dear, you were a coward when I met you. You came here only to earn enough to survive. Yet at the end of your life, you refused to hide in Revendreth to save yourself. I have never dared imagine the cruelty of your death, but you faced the Jailer, knowing you would die." Theotar shuddered. He hid behind his hands.

Something touched his arm. Not Renathal, too soft, too slight. He lowered his hands.

Gwennit pressed the only finger left on her hand to the very edge of the circle. The tips brushed his skin just below his elbow. She gazed, her skin burned and bloodied. Her hair had melted to her scalp. Theotar took her hand. His fingers went through her. Something flickered in their soulbind, forgotten and familiar. Gwennit watched as though he might vanish if she looked away.

"Please, my love." He ran his fingers over her ruined scalp, and through her skull as his hand quivered. "Come back to me. To us."

"It has been more than seven years since Duchess Sinfall gave her life defending all that exists." Renathal took Theotar's shoulders. "Even in the living world, she became legend, yet strived only to care for the Maw Walkers, many of whom saw her as a mother; the dredgers, whom she treated with care and respect; and Theotar. And, in time, me as well. As her stone says, she purged her sin in life. After all she has suffered, it would be cruelty to force her to atone. I will gladly sire her, if need be."

"That would be a conflict of interest, Renathal." The Accuser narrowed her eyes. She watched them, even as Renathal and Theotar pressed their fingertips to and through Gwennit's few remaining ones.

As tiny as she was in life, death made her smaller. She hardly came to Theotar's chest. He bent to touch his lips to her hand. Anima sparked between them and sent a shiver up his back.

"All for allowing this soul to attain the status of venthyr?" the Accuser said. "I'm sure all of you remember her and what she did. Including her role against the Sire."

Theotar held his breath. He dared not look at the inquisitors as they gave their verdicts.

"Aye."

Aye.

Aye.

The Accuser nodded. "And with me, that would be unanimous." She looked sidelong at Renathal as Theotar's heart lodged in his throat. "I've got to say I'm grateful. I'm not fond of the idea of siring one you'd only defile, Renathal. Stand back, you two. Or do you want to fry?"

"Let me stay," Theotar whispered, but Renathal pulled him back.

Four beams of anima pinned Gwennit to the spot. The Accuser said, "I name you---"

"Gwennit," Renathal said. "There can only ever be one Duchess Sinfall, and her name is Gwennit."

"This is highly irregular."

"Please." Theotar held out his hands. "Let her keep her name. It is not the one on her stone, you see? She gained it in her afterlife. It should continue in her afterlife."

The Accuser sighed and shot them a look. "I name you Gwennit. Please don't decide you want to change it. Renathal gives me paperwork enough!"

Theotar held his breath as Gwennit shivered. She flashed blue--lich blue--and burst with anima as she swelled and turned and grew and... and---

"She has the lich," Theotar said. He tried to move to the circle, but could not so much as lift his hand.

"How did that happen?" Renathal said in his ear. "Did we make a mistake?"

Gwennit settled to the stones, whole and living. She staggered as she looked at her black hood and robe, her pointed fingernails. A piece of long, white hair came loose from the knot at the back of her head as she cupped her hands to her face and breathed.

"Ginger," she said, her voice as soft and high, just as it had always been.

The word shattered the paralysis holding Theotar to the spot. He ran, swept her into his arms, lifted her and spun her. She laughed, her arms around his neck.

"Theotar! My Theotar!"

"My Gwennit. Oh, my duchess." He tipped his head and met her halfway to a kiss. She shivered in his grasp. When she looked up, tears ran from her eyes, which glowed a delicate blue. No other venthyr he knew bore such remarkable eyes.

"How?" she whispered.

"I don't know, but I will not question it. You are home." He stroked her cheekbone, lower and rounder than it ought to be, and flushing grey to pink. She dabbed his face with her sleeve.

"It was going to run into your beard." Gwennit held up her arm. "Your, erm, eyes. And your nose. In your mouth."

"My dowsabel looks after me." Theotar smiled until his cheeks hurt. Even as a venthyr, Gwennit only came to his chin. Her face remained as round as in life, cheekbones curved rather than sharp, her chin a soft point. Her ears extended to narrow curves rather than points. Many, most even, would call her ugly. Malformed. Unsuited to royalty. Unfit to stand beside princes.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, and kissed her.

She whimpered into the kiss. When it broke, she rested her cheek against his collarbone.

"My duke." She tightened her grip. "Oh, and my prince."

"My dear lady. You are the loveliest of venthyr."

The inquisitors looked at him as though he had lost his senses. The Accuser shooed them to their duties. Gwennit, her back to the inquisitors, kissed Theotar and eased from his arms. She stopped a metre from Renathal, who bowed. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I've missed you."

"I wanted to come home. I wanted to so much. But I---"

"Shh. You are here now."

Gwennit choked and lunged. They held each other, rocking from side to side, Gwennit's breaths growing wet. Renathal motioned Theotar closer. Theotar put his arms around both of them. Gwennit's hair, soft and fine and shining like Renathal's, smelled of anima. He took a deep breath, again, again, warm and spicy and too silky to remain in its knot. Strands hung loose. Some stuck to his lips.

Gwennit looked up. Renathal traced her cheek, her high, round cheek, and kissed her. Gwennit returned it. When it broke, she lifted her hand to stroke his face---

"What happened to your eyes?" She peered. "What did you do to get ink all over yourself? It's in your hair!" She snatched a lock with black tips. "Did you lean over the inkwell?"

Renathal laughed and kissed her once more. Gwennit whimpered and pressed closer, wrapped her fingers in his inky hair, pulled until a whine rose in Renathal's throat---

"Go. Home," the Accuser said. "We've got child spirits here. They don't need to see what you lot have in mind. Come to think, neither do I."

"You'd love it." Renathal winked. "Thank you, my friend. I owe you a great debt."

"Hmph. Keep doing your own work, and we'll call it even. Speaking of which, I have things to do. I'll give you the day, but you're back in that cramped little cell your call an office tomorrow. Really, whose bright idea was it to make you a prince?" The Accuser strode towards the cathedral and, no doubt, her office and a mound of paperwork.

Renathal chuckled, and Gwennit said, "That was rude."

"Harvesters. What can one do?" He kissed Gwennit, then Theotar. "Goodness. We need to call in a dressmaker."

"No!" Gwennit pressed her face to his chest. "No corsets!"

"But, dowsabel." Theotar stroked her neck. "You will look so charming!"

"Theotar, I love you, but no. I want robes. Even a duellist's suit. I am never dressing up again!"

Theotar pouted. "Not even for Court?"

"I'll dress like that when the Verdant Court returns."

"Ah," Renathal said. "In that case, I have some bad news."

Gwennit glared. Renathal laughed and kissed her hand. "Truly ferocious, dear lady. You exude all the terror of a hungry kitten."

"I have fangs and claws, and I will use them."

"Mm. Is that a promise?"

She smacked his arm and marched towards the lift. "I'll meet you at Sinfall!"

Several minutes and a hasty explanation later, they stepped into Nathria, from the mirror meant only for the Court of Harvesters (and Theotar). Gwennit fell still in the cavernous foyer lined with mirrors and portraits, including one of Renathal when he was young, his beard short and his hair drawn into a tail. Renathal took off his boots and handed his waistcoat to Bogdan. Theotar squeezed Gwennit's shoulders.

"What is it, dowsabel?"

"The last time I was here...."
Renathal glanced at her. Theotar drew her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder. "It is different now, my love. Denathrius is no more."

She shuddered and whispered, "We don't like it."

"We?" Renathal said.

Gwennit turned in Theotar's arms and hid against his chest. "The lich."

"How is it in your possession, my dearest?" Theotar kissed her head. "I thought the Jailer stole it."

"He hurt Jennie. I had to stop him. Please, I want to go to Sinfall."

"It's not really habitable, my lady." Renathal cupped her chin. "We're still ferreting out Denathrius's hidden machines. They're guarded with the most grotesque of weapons. Before that's done, we can't go ahead with reconstruction."

"Thornhill, then."

"I loaned it to the Countess." Theotar sighed. "Perhaps her Alexandru would allow you a guest room, but---"

"What happened to Draka?"

"Shh, no need to sound so distressed. They are still dear friends, much like she and I are. Only, after the Jailer fell, their duties to their homes pulled them apart. It is a terrible shame, but Alexandru is a good fellow, much like our dear Kassir. Loyal. Solemn. He is good to my Countess."

Gwennit scowled. "Are you and Kassir...?"

Theotar chuckled as Renathal said, "That would require him to leave his Vasili's side. But, er, he and Theotar have grown close. Worryingly close."

"Ha! Simply because we tell you what to do does not mean we are in any way close."

"You invite him to tea as often as you do the Countess. You've even convinced him that Pranking Renathal is a game for all to enjoy. It's a bit terrifying."

"Simply because your husband and your former lover have become friendly---"

"Inseparable."

"Hush. You are being terrible in front of Gwennit." Theotar kissed her between her eyebrows. "Do you need to live elsewhere, my dear? As much as we would prefer you close, your happiness is most important. Perhaps Darkwall Tower? It is close to being restored. And very near."

"I want to stay with you two."

"Which means Nathria, I'm afraid. At least for now." Renathal wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Darkwall is lovely for one, and perhaps a tidy two, but not three. If it helps, we avoid the castle's lower levels. The Curator is converting them to archives as quickly as Denathrius's ghastly treachery is uprooted. We've discussed making the building public once Sinfall is back to its proper state. Moving the capitol and everything."

Gwennit looked around as though the very walls might swallow her. "I'm so sorry. Only, the lich and I have worked so hard to come to peace. We can't break again."

"I'm sorry I made you do that." Renathal pressed his face to her hair. "I can never forgive myself for harming you."

"You didn't have a choice."

"It can't have been coincidence I did such a terrible thing to the one who stole Theotar's heart."

"You were defending your home against a tyrant. Like my people should have done against Syl...."

She trailed off. Licked her lips so they shone in the dancing light of a hundred candles. "They're not my people any more, are they?"

"We are going upstairs, and you are going to rest." Theotar kissed her and stepped aside. Renathal scooped her into his arms, as he did Theotar the night before, their anniversary. She pulled herself into a ball, her cheek against his shoulder. "There is much you do not know, my dowsabel. Azeroth is changing, just as the Shadowlands are, or so we are told."

In the bedroom, the massive one that had once been Denathrius's, Renathal set Gwennit on the bed. He knelt to remove her slippers. Theotar laid his fingers over the buttons down her back.

"Oh." Gwennit's voice faded in the enormous room before it reached the walls. The red walls reflected on her grey skin, and the dark, carved furniture left her plain. "Was this...?

"Father's, yes." Renathal rubbed the sole of her foot with his thumbs. "It looks rather different than it did before."

Gwennit shrank into herself. "I used to have nightmares about him. He was so tall. So terrifying."

"Dowsabel. You should have woken me."

"I didn't have them when you were there. You scared him off. The two of you could even send the Jailer away."

"My dear." Theotar drew the pins from her hair, so it fell from its knot. He drew it over her shoulders and opened the first of the buttons running down her spine. She needed simpler clothes. Ones that let her dress herself. "I will contact the Countess's dressmaker tomorrow. You are beautiful in finery, but simplicity is a comfort to you, I think."

"Thank you."

Renathal rubbed Gwennit's feet and ankles while Theotar undid the rest of the buttons down Gwennit's back. Her breath kept hitching.

"Are you all right, my lady?" Renathal looked up. "You need not cry, though if you must---"

"Breathing. It's strange." Gwennit looked between them. "Someone said I was Annabell. The name. It hasn't got any kind of flavour to me."

"You're Gwennit." Renathal kissed her knee through her clothes. "Really, properly now. Not bait, not a bird, but yourself. A living, breathing venthyr. You said Arthas brought your afterlife. This is simply another chapter."

"How many afterlives am I going to have?"

Theotar kissed the bare nape of her neck. "Hopefully, this will be the last one. Your children will be pleased to know you are here! Oh! We shall hold a party!"

Gwennit looked at him. "They survived?"

"Oh, yes! They write to us on occasion, apart from Sassy, but she is quite happy in Maldraxxus, or so Draka says."

"Sassy's--c-could we visit her? Or could she come here?"

"Not yet, I'm afraid." Renathal lifted Gwennit's foot and kissed her ankle. "There are rules about that sort of thing, and she's still in her early training with the House of Eyes. But someday. I'll see what I can do, all right?"

Gwennit nodded. Theotar hugged her.

"It is not so terrible, my love. Your Jennie writes most of all, at least once a month. She calls me Papa Theotar! It is charming, yes?"

Gwennit turned her head. Her smile was faint, but enough to light her face. "You'd make a good papa. Both of you."

Theotar pecked her. "You are not the only one who things so. Oh! You are quite the legend on Azeroth! Oh, that terrible story. It is about a stranger, not my dowsabel!"

"How did it end?"

Renathal chuckled. "You died tragically and melodramatically, rose on the spot as a venthyr of such dazzling beauty hundreds begged for your hand, there was some awful parody of a wedding, and we ruled the Shadowlands as Lich Queen and Prince, with Theotar as our paramour." He smirked. "Jennie's brother and your dog son threw eggs at the author's house. Anduin pardoned them, but warned them not to do it again, else they'd go in something called a stockade. He's due for another visit. What was his new bride's name, my love? Tellya? Something like that?"

"Taelia," Theotar said. "She has said lovely things about my dowsabel."

"I thought she hated me," Gwennit said.

"Yes, well, playing a critical role in ending the Jailer has a way of changing opinions. That, and you are very dear."

Gwennit pulled her robe from her shoulders and pushed it to her waist. She folded her arms.

"I think I'd like a cuddle," she said, scowling at the great curtained doors to the balcony.

"As you wish." Renathal looked up. His eyes widened. "Oh, my dear lady." He stroked her shoulder. "You still have your beautiful scars."

"What?" Gwennit lifted her arms and looked down her body. "I thought they would go away. I wanted to be lovely, like the real venthyr. Why have I got to still look like this?"

"You are are a real venthyr. You simply look like yourself. Is that not what you wanted?"

Gwennit shook her head. She stood and pushed off her robe and snug trousers, and pulled her hood from her neck. Naked, her breasts and belly small and soft and sagging, her scars shimmering, she crawled to the pillows and curled into a ball.

"Venthyr don't have scars like this. What am I?"

"Our Gwennit." Renathal pulled his shirt over his head and left it and his belt on the floor. He settled beside her and pulled her close while Theotar fought his shoes. "You are small and soft, and different from any other venthyr. Absolved in life. The only one ever to achieve such a thing."

"Which may be why you bear so many of your mortal traits. You did not endure the normal process. Take it as a blessing, my love. I remember it all too well." Theotar wrenched his second shoe from his foot. He laid his and Renathal's belts across the chest at the foot of the bed, and folded Renathal's shirt and set it atop them. (Really, aeons, and he still could not tidy after himself.) "May I join you, my loves?"

"Please," Renathal said as Gwennit nodded. Renathal lifted his arm. Theotar snuggled against Gwennit's back. Renathal pulled him closer.

"I wanted to look like a venthyr." Gwennit shuddered. "Not a human I don't even remember."

"You are beautiful. Utterly lovely." Theotar nuzzled her ear. A dark line crossed it where a marriage cuff would go. The one he gave her. Even in another body, she made it part of her. "You look like my Gwennit."

"Regardless of what some will say--" Renathal lifted her chin "--you are beautiful."

"What do you mean? What will they say?"

Renathal shifted. Theotar sighed and said, "They will be cruel. Some will say you are ugly, my love. They are wrong."

"Venthyr aren't ugly." Gwennit hid her face in the pillow. "What am I?"

"Shh." Renathal kissed her head. "My lady, you are a venthyr with the purity of a kyrian. You are kind and tender, and ferocious when challenged. Ferocious enough to steal Domination itself. Strong enough to give your life to save those who would dismiss you. That sort of strength is rare. As rare as you. As rare as Theotar."

"But what am I?"

"You are Gwennit. You are the loveliest of venthyr, and the kindest." Theotar nuzzled her hair. "And your backside is pressed against me in a way you may wish to stop, if you do not wish me to remove my trousers. You're rather taller than you were in life."

"S-sorry." She shifted, and Theotar sighed. "I'm sorry, my love. Maybe later."

"Take as long as you need, dowsabel."

"I wish we were at Sinfall. I told the lich all about it while we were in that place. That tomb."

Renathal tucked her hair behind her ear. "Would you care to visit? We can't go deep, but you could see the surface. And the Reaches and most of the Depths."

"Yes, please."

"Would you care for lunch in my parlour?" Theotar said.

"Oh, yes."

"I will have Yubbins and Wubbins bring something. Oh, and Princess will be delighted to see you! We must go for a flight!"

"Is a flight a good idea?" Renathal said.

Gwennit turned her head. "What about Tubbins and Gubbins? Are they all right?"

Renathal snorted. "The Dredger Princes are off doing something regal, no doubt. They'll be overjoyed when they come home for supper. At least Rendle's given up revolution in exchange for monarchy."

"Dredger Princes?"

"Long story. And they're my uncles. Apparently."

Gwennit lifted her eyebrow. "What else has changed?"

Renathal laughed. "Apart from putting down two counter-rebellions with their eyes on the Dark Throne, working to rebuild the Verdant Ward, two new Harvesters, attempts to renew all of Revendreth despite devourers being at war with Kael'thas's small army, and Mona getting bloody married and only taking clients by appointment? Not so much."

"We married as well." Theotar grinned. "I am a prince!"

"Prince Consort. There's a difference."

"No-one cares, my dear. To them, I am as princely as you."

"Kael'thas has an army?" Gwennit's voice quivered. Renathal stroked her arm.

"The Harvester of Dread cannot work alone. He's only been atoned for, what, a few months?"

"Six," Theotar said. "And doing quite a fine job. Much better than that awful Fearstalker. Eugh! Even her name gives me the willies!"

Gwennit trembled. "Kael'thas hates me. He has an army?"

"I will give him strict orders to leave you be." Renathal lifted Gwennit's chin and kissed her. "None may hurt my lady."

Theotar kissed the side of her neck. "And none may hurt my dowsabel."

Gwennit's breath caught. "Say it again."

"We will protect you, my love." Theotar nuzzled her ear, her strange ear with its rounded tip. "You spent so long with nothing good but your love for your people, and when we met, your death was inevitable. But now, you are safe and loved, and no-one will ever harm you again. Not so long as we survive."

Gwennit turned over and hugged him, and put her leg over his hip and drew herself closer. Her nails and fingertips pressed against his back, as her breasts did his chest. She kissed him between him lip and beard. Theotar squirmed. She smelled of anima, too new to have gained her own scent. Like Renathal's hair in the old times. Like spice and life and promises. He loosened his grip and took a deep breath, his cock half stiff and eager for more.

"Don't go," Gwennit said. Theotar closed his eyes.

"Never," he said as Renathal said, "We are with you always."

#

As soon as they came into sight of the scaffolding on Sinfall Tower, Gwennit reined Princess to a stop. Renathal turned Puternic and flew back to hover beside her.

"What is it? The construction?"

"It looks barely alive."

"Why is why we're repairing it." Renathal glanced at Theotar, who yelped and yanked his own bat, Fuzzyfang, to circle them. "In time, it shall be majestic."

"You know I cannot stop in mid-air!" Theotar flailed at Sinfall. "I am going to land!"

Renathal shook his head. Gwennit stared at Theotar, who kept pulling his reins, and Fuzzyfang, who knew what he was doing and ought to have been in control."

He's never been a strong rider. I have no idea why." Renathal snorted. "His saddles all have gadgets to keep him astride. Otherwise, I'd be a widower again."

A shriek rose from below. Renathal sighed. With any luck, his husband had not landed on a dredger again.

"Widower?" Gwennit watched him. "You were married?"

"For a few happy weeks."

"Oh. I'm sorry. What happened?"

Renathal looked at her. "You died."

Gwennit drew her reins to her chest. Renathal clicked his tongue. Puternic set towards Sinfall.

Gwennit followed. When Renathal glanced back, she was scowling at nothing. Just before he turned to face Sinfall, she lifted her hand to her right ear.

Theotar had, in fact, got loose from three of the gadgets keeping him astride, and hung from Fuzzyfang's underside, his arms dangling. Fuzzyfang hovered like the good boy he was. A number of dredgers scurried past, pushing wheelbarrows and hauling tools.

"No, no, it is all right," Theotar called. "I will get out of this somehow."

"I suppose I'm somehow." Renathal jumped from Puternic's back, fed her a treat, and unhooked her reins so she could swoop around the tower for a while. He fussed with Theotar's saddle. "What happened this time?"

"I do not know! He went the wrong way---"

"Right way."

"--and suddenly, I was bamboozled!"

Renathal shook his head. He opened a few sturdy latches, unbuckled three belts, and Theotar slumped to the ground. He lay in a pile, his arms splayed over his head.

"I do not wish to hear it," he said into the dirt.

"You're going to anyway." Renathal crouched and manoeuvred him until he sat on the ground, and kissed him. "Next time, I'm double-checking your saddle. Twice!"

Theotar folded his arms and sneered. "I am perfectly capable of walking! Why must we fly? Should bats not be wild and free, like the gargon and the wood louse?"

"Gargons aren't wild. My sister makes them."

"Hmph!" Theotar hugged his knees to his chest. "Next time, I think I shall walk."

"You--" Renathal kissed him "--are ridiculous."

"Just for that, I am walking with Gwennit. For now."

Renathal chuckled. Gwennit landed beside him. He scratched Princess's muzzle.

"Did you miss your lady, pretty girl?" He pressed his face to Princess's cheek. "Are you glad to have your person back?"

Gwennit climbed down and petted Princess's head. Princess held still until Renathal removed her reins, and she flew off with Fuzzyfang. They would make a good breeding pair: both steady, both reliable, both graceful and even, regardless of altitude or speed. Their dressage heritages could make for champion pups, under the right hand.

Theotar stood and stretched, and wandered towards the tower. Gwennit pressed against Renathal's side.

"I'm sorry I had to leave."

"I know." Renathal put his arm around her. She was so very small for a venthyr, only midway up his chest. He bent his head and kissed her. "And, no, we weren't married in the proper sense. Only, Theotar gave you the cuff. And it ought to have been from both of us. I, er, still have your last letter. I read it sometimes after Theotar falls asleep."

"I died with yours in my clothes."

Renathal cleared his throat. "I'll understand if, after some time, you decide you're only interested in Theotar, you know, that way, or even neither---"

"Two things kept me sane in that tomb. One was the lich. The other was the knowledge I would see both of you again."

Renathal took her hand. He kissed it. "Would you care to see Sinfall? I promise, as soon as the specialists deem it safe, we shall return. It is, after all, our home."

"I don't know." Gwennit looked away. "I didn't expect it to, erm, to be--be so---"

"Obviously broken?"

She nodded.

"In that case, my lady, would you care to see what we've done with the bog? It's a change, surely, but a lovely one."

"Has it got to do with the Verdant Court?"

Renathal smiled. "We've only just started, but already it is glorious." He looked out over the Ember Ward, its rocks and utter dessication. "The seeds and soil to revitalise the Verdant Ward were Theotar's wedding gift to me. What I gave him was really quite pathetic in comparison."

Gwennit took his hand. He looked down. Their hands fit well together. Her fingers, smooth and short, held no chill of perpetual death as she shifted to lace their grasp. He lifted their clasped hands and kissed her knuckles one at a time. A pink tinge rose on her cheeks and in her lips.

"Is Theotar coming?" She bit her lip. "Only, he's got to be shaken. You know, his bat."

"I've told him a thousand times that Fuzzyfang needs only the slightest touch. He's a very clever bat. Only, poor Theotar panics and starts jerking the reins. It's not fear of heights. I think he's so used to guiding others that he can't let a simple bat take control and do its job."

"Fuzzyfang?"

"I barely talked him out of 'Fubbins'." Renathal smiled. Theotar stood with a pair of dredgers, speaking with his hands as much as with his voice. "Oh, but he is dear. As far as I'm concerned, you and I are the luckiest people in the Shadowlands."

Gwennit settled closer. Renathal put his hand on her waist. She kissed his shoulder.

"I wish Vrednic was with us. He'd love the bog."

"We've switched to a different one for gallivanting about, at least for now. He eats the young plants, silly thing. Gives him the most terrible tummy troubles."

She slumped against him. "Has everything changed?"

Renathal kissed her head. "Not our love for you."

Gwennit looked up, her eyes wide. "But it's been--I don't even know how long it's been!"

"Seven years, four and a half months, give or take. Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. Your gift was a day late, but I think we can forgive you."

"S-s-seven. Years? I spent seven years in a-a tomb?" Gwennit staggered to a bench and gripped her head, elbows on her knees. "I can't even be angry with you! You thought I was in the Maw!"

Renathal hesitated, but sat beside her. He drew her close. "I'm so sorry. Had I known, you wouldn't have been there a day." He drew her hood over her face. "Does that help?"

She shrugged, but nodded.

"Why do you hide?"

Again, Gwennit shrugged. "It's easier than being seen. I was a--a thing for so long, I couldn't bear for people to look at me. Now I'm just hideous."

"Shh, never say that. You are as beautiful to me as Theotar is, and I could watch him for hours. I have done." Renathal rested his cheek atop her head.

"I should have gone to the Maw."

"No, no, please don't say that. Come here." He drew her to rest her head on his thigh. "I promise, you'll be happy here. Only, I suppose it's overwhelming."

Gwennit nodded and rubbed her face on his trousers. "You're not even wearing your armour."

"We're no longer in a state of open war, save against the gorgers. I mainly do paperwork and argue with my fellows. It's rather less comfortable in layers of sinvyr." Renathal snorted. "That ridiculous book about the Lich of Thornhill never mentioned anything about real work."

"I never read it."

"We had it bound, if you'd like a good laugh or six." Renathal drew his fingers through her hair. It had turned as soft as her skin. He rubbed a piece between his fingers. "We re-read it aloud every once in a while. Always good fun."

Gwennit looked up. "You, erm. You're getting on well, then."

"Beautifully, most of the time. We have our spats. The occasional shrieking argument. Usually about nothing particularly important, but it's how such things go. I, er." Renathal cleared his throat. "It's been difficult at times, having only Theotar in our bed. But I've not strayed. No matter how pretty he and Kassir would be. Vasili would have things to say about it, though."

"Oh. So you still love---"

"As a friend. Perhaps a bit more, but nothing worth losing Theotar over. Besides," and he chuckled, "Theotar's taken to doing that little trick of yours."

"Trick?"

"Arse in the air, my cock down your throat? Remember that?"

"Of course."

"He's brilliant at it. Not quite like the original, but what can one do?"

Gwennit took his hand. He glanced down. "You haven't got to if you---"

"I don't know. I don't know anything right now." Gazing at Theotar, who had gained a teacup from somewhere and sloshed it as he chatted with a growing pack of dredgers, Gwennit said, "All I had was the lich. It's not really separate any more. It's scattered through me. Nothing can take it away again." She touched her nose. "Is that why I look like this?"

"I don't know. I wish I could ease your fears, but I simply don't know. Stop that." Renathal pulled her hand from her nose, where she had begun scratching. "Even venthyr scar."

"I want to scar. I haven't even looked at myself, and I already hate what I'll see."

"I don't think you will. I really don't think you will."

Gwennit sat up. "Could we go to the bog?"

"Are you sure? You act as though you need anima."

She nodded. Renathal stood and pulled her against him. She wrapped her arms around him, around his rib cage, and squeezed. "I want to see the Verdant Ward. Please, Renathal."

"As you wish." He lifted her chin and kissed her, the softest of touches that filled his blood with sparks. "I still give Theotar that kiss from both of us when he's sad, you know. Poor thing. Both of you, poor things. He's only off right now to gather his dignity. He missed you like he would miss his heart if it were to vanish. The first few weeks, I was afraid he would join you."

"Why would he do that? That's insane!"

"As is Theotar. He's improved some over the years, but his time in the Ember Ward left indelible marks. He neither ate nor took anima after your death. Drank only plain wine. Waned. I had to beg him to stop. It still haunts me, what would have happened had I not got through to him."

Gwennit kissed his hand, and ran to Theotar. She grabbed him in a hug that left him wobbling and his teacup emptier. He laughed and hugged her in return, and held his teacup to her lips. She took the cup in one hand and drained it, and hugged him once more. He frowned when she spoke, his brows drawing together and shoulders taut.

"Dowsabel." He lifted her so she matched his height. His voice carried on the air, soft and distant. "Had I known you were here, I would have spent my days in delight rather than despair. I wanted nothing more than your return."

She spoke again, the motion of her lips slight. Theotar sighed and kissed her, and carried her to Renathal.

"I think she needs a walk, my love."

"Not anima? Or rest?"

Theotar only kissed Gwennit, then Renathal, and set for the lift, Gwennit holding him around his shoulders, her slippers dangling from her toes. Renathal shook his head. Poor things. Both a little mad from their exiles.

As was he.

Gwennit huddled between them when the first greenery came into view. Her fangs poked out when she frowned. It might have been cute in any other situation. When they reached the experimental grape vines, though, and the greenhouse full of dredgers and saplings, her mouth fell open. She touched a vine on its trellis, its grapes tiny, green, and hard.

"Oh." She licked her lips. "Oh, I think I understand."

"Yes, well, anything for our Renathal." Theotar kissed Renathal's cheek. Gwennit giggled, a shaky sound, and put her fingers over her small smile.

"You're all pink."

"Wouldn't you be if such a lovely creature kissed you?" Renathal said.

"I don't know. I--I don't know."

Theotar sighed. He picked her up and kissed both her cheeks. They bloomed pink. "Ahh, there is my dowsabel! So shy where others could see! Is she not sweet, my love?"

"Like sugar candy." Renathal grinned. "The sort I ate and ate until Denathrius threatened to stop giving me new teeth."

Gwennit stared. "Seriously?"

"Let us simply say I was bit pudgy at one time."

"I broke him of the sweets, but I do miss his chubby little belly." Theotar poked him in the stomach.

Renathal swatted his hand. "You haven't any complaints when I train the bats shirtless!"

"Mmm, indeed I do not." Theotar grinned. "Would you care to show our little dowsabel?"

"I would be delighted." Renathal smirked. "And if she would care to accompany me in such activities, I could hardly say no. What do you think, my lady? Would you enjoy half-naked bat husbandry and flight training?"

"I think I'd like to keep my robes on, if that's all right."

Theotar sighed and swooned into Renathal, who dropped him in a thick mound of grass. "Oh, my dowsabel wishes to remain clothed in my presence! And my prince has left me on the ground to waste away!"

"You are very silly." Renathal knelt beside him. "But I knew that when I married you."

"You insult me! I am the very model of respectability!"

Renathal laughed and kissed him. "Oh? Then explain that day we got drunk with Mona and I spilled my teacup."

"I only suggested a reasonable punishment!"

"As I recall, you announced, and I do quote, 'You spill the tea, you spill the tea like the dredger muck, oh, oh, the Maw for my prince, the Maw for my prince for one thousand years'. Endquote."

"As I said, a most reasonable punishment." Theotar looked around. "My love, where is Gwennit?"

"Eh?" Renathal stood and scanned the horizon. A dredger pointed to the greenhouse.

Gwennit sat in a corner beneath an apple tree nearly old enough to bear fruit. Renathal crept towards her, one slow step at a time as though she might spook. "What is it, my lady?"

She shrugged.

"I can see that you're not all right. I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on."

Gwennit shook her head. Renathal sat next to her and kissed her head. She shivered. A moment, and she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

"I think I should go to Bastion."

The world jerked around Renathal. He grabbed her shoulders. "Have you lost your mind?"

"I've lost everything!" Gwennit's nose ran down her lip, and she wiped her face on her hood's mantle. "My Revendreth is gone! My children are on Azeroth where I can't go! Tubbins and Gubbins don't even know I'm here---"

"You have us, dear la---"

"No, I haven't!"

She broke down, choking and shaking. Renathal stared. Theotar knelt and rocked her.

"My dowsabel, what do you mean? We are here! We are not going anywhere---"

"It's been seven years. By the Maw. You two have lifetimes together. What do I have? A few months when one you hated me? You--you play about, and you have all these stories I don't understand, and--and all I have is seven years in a crypt." She gasped between words, and blew her nose on the handkerchief Theotar pressed to her face. "Why couldn't I go to the Maw? I want to die. I want to be dead again."

"Don't say that, dowsabel." Theotar wiped his eyes on his arm. "Give us time. We will have stories of our own."

"Why would you even want that? Look at yourselves. You have the sort of love people dream of their entire lives! All I can do is follow and hope I don't get left behind."

"Stop that." Renathal's voice got lost somewhere in his throat and emerged a shadow of itself. "Stop that right now, Gwennit! You will go to neither Bastion nor the Maw. A year from now, if you still want Bastion, then, only then, may you break our hearts for the last time. Until then, you are staying here, and you will learn to stop pitying yourself for things outside your control. Do you understand me?"

"I--I---"

"I said, do you understand me?"

Gwennit huddled against Theotar, shaking, taking sharp, squealing breaths between silent sobs. Theotar sneered.

"We will discuss this later!" he mouthed.

Renathal shook his head. "If you had even an inkling of how much we wanted you here, you'd---"

He broke off and clenched his fist. His nails pierced the skin above his wrist, and blood and anima trickled to soak into his sleeve. He pushed his cuff to his elbow. "Give her to me."

"Not until you settle---"

"Give. Her. To me."

Theotar drew Gwennit closer, staring at Renathal, daring him to take her. Renathal thrust his wounds to Gwennit's mouth.

"Drink it. You need anima."

Blood smeared her mouth. "I don't want---"

"Drink. It."

She hesitated, but took his arm. Her weak grip slipped on his skin, so Renathal pressed his wrist to her mouth, and gasped when she sucked. He closed his eyes and whimpered. It was only to calm her, only to see that she stayed alive, but by all Denathrius's bastards, it should have been more. He grunted when she bit him to widen the wounds, to get more, more blood, more anima, more of him.

"Renathal, stop." Theotar wiped his nose with his handkerchief. "This is not the way to go about the situation."

"Sh-she needs to eat."

"Not from you!"

"Wh--mmm!--why---"

"Look at your trousers and tell me yourself."

Renathal looked down. "Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck me running. This isn't what---"

He jerked his hand from Gwennit's mouth. She cried out, but he stood and walked away.

In the bog, any number of dredgers ran about, gathering the materials for Bigguns and Sire knew what else. He sucked his hand, where Gwennit's mouth had---

From his trousers, he took his handkerchief and pressed the cloth to his wounds. Light burned not as far away as he might have liked. Under his boots, grass whispered. It did so again when he sat and tossed a stone across the muck.

Too soon, he ran out of stones within reach. The throbbing in his hand made it harder and harder to aim, anyway. He sat, hugging his knees, hiding his shame, rocking back and forth at Gwennit's sobs from the greenhouse. Sobbing because of him.

Perhaps she would be happier in Bastion.

No matter how much she hated the place.

Footsteps. Two sets. One moving closer, the other further away. Renathal tensed when Theotar stopped beside him and folded his arms.

"She and I going home. You may join us, or you may sulk with rest of the muck."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me."

"I think you do. Lunch shall be at the usual time."

Theotar walked away. Renathal opened his mouth to call to him, but had no suitable words.

The worst part was, he regretted not a bit of what he said.

#

They entered through the side gate they had taken earlier. Theotar said it was once meant only for dredgers and servants. However, it was the quickest way to reach the portion of the castle where they lived.

Where Renathal and Theotar lived, anyhow.

Gwennit stood just inside their enormous bedroom while Theotar ran his finger over a mismatched set of bookcases. "Forgive me, dowsabel. I have something for you to read."

"That story? With the ridiculous ending? I don't want to read it. Not right now."

"Oh, no, no, no, my love. It is my account of the time we spent together during your first life in Revendreth. I intended it to be private, but Renathal insisted everyone must know how great and tender my dowsabel truly is. I did not expect it to become as popular as it did. As I understand, it became quite the hit on Azeroth as well. All proceeds there go to the Forsaken Foundation. It aids the refugees among your people. Anduin and your Jennie wrote the introductions!"

"You've really written to Jennie? You didn't say that only to make me feel better?"

"Why would I do that? We regularly exchange correspondence with all your children. They will insist on visiting, you know. I was not joking about the party. You will be happy to know that several have married. Your delightful Leo has not, but he did acquire a pup of his own. From an orphanage, all perfectly respectable. Though if you listen to him, the poor thing followed him home one day and refused to leave."

Gwennit sank into an armchair. Her children. She put her hands to her face and fought to breathe. Only when Theotar knelt at her feet did she look up.

"Is Jennie married?" Gwennit whispered. Theotar clasped her hand between both of his, and kissed her wrist.

"Not yet, but we have invited her and her lady to stay with us afterwards to celebrate."

"Andreala?"

"With the terrifying, hair-eating birds? I am afraid so."

Gwennit snorted. "Why would Thunder and Lightning want to eat hair?"

"I have asked that question many times. Renathal thinks I should perhaps wash it more than once a week, but it becomes so unruly! I went two weeks once, simply to see if it would stay in place, and the bats became all too friendly."

Gwennit giggled. Theotar grinned and kissed her. "There is my Gwennit. She has such a wonderful smile!"
Gwennit looked away. "But you said I'm ugly. You and Renathal."

Theotar sighed. He guided her to her feet and stood her before one of a pair of wardrobes. He opened it. A dozen identical pairs of trousers hung in a tidy row, along with one red pair, a hank of silken red rope, and a collection of worn, faded black cloth. Gwennit hesitated, but touched it.

"My robes."

"Of course, dowsabel. Renathal keeps your staff in his office. Many times, I have looked in on him, only to find him hugging it to his chest as he gazes out the window. That, however, is not what I wish to show you."

"If he loves me that much, why did he shout at me?"

"Remember how he responded to your summons to Zereth Mortis. He is not the most rational fellow at times." Theotar sighed. "It becomes irritating." He turned her to face one of the open wardrobe doors, on which a mirror hung. "Look, my love." He kissed her cheek and put his chin on her shoulder. "Look at how beautiful you are."

Gwennit touched her face, traced her high, round cheekbone and the deep grey circles beneath her eyes. The lich looked with her. They touched the mirror together.

They looked venthyr.

Yet like Gwennit.

"I was always ugly? To venthyr?"

"No! No, of course not, my beautiful one. Perhaps to some, but elves and those strange purple goat-people were the most desired mortals, according to Mona. You were simply not venthyr. Look, you have such a lovely round face. Unique. That is what you are, you are unique." He traced her features, slowing as a smile stretched his lips. "Now, the ears are a bit odd. More like a rabbit at the tips than a venthyr, but it suits you. You have always had something of the rabbit about you. Your wide eyes. Your fears. Your ferocity when you have no choice but to fight. Yes, that is it, you are my beautiful little rabbit. And still my delicious twice--thrice-steeped pastry."

Gwennit scowled. She turned her head side to side. "But the rest of you are so elegant."

"My love, many of us are far from elegant. Renathal is considered average at best! Many think him homely, though I believe his flaws enhance his beauty. But look at his beard. It is so slight! It cannot even cover his jaw! His height is ridiculous. It makes him terribly awkward. His fangs are crooked from all the times the Sire replaced them. His cheekbones are too pointed, his fingers are too long, and the tip of his nose curls towards his lip. Need I continue?"

"But Renathal is the most beautiful man I've ever seen." Gwennit shut her mouth with a click of fangs. "And--and you are, too, of course---"

Theotar laughed. "I look as though I should be on some elegant duellist's arm, being silent and pretty, before going off to gossip with the ladies. You know the sort I speak of, yes?"

Gwennit hunched. "The, erm, the word they used in Orgrimmar was softling."

"Then I am a softling."

"It's not a nice word. It--it means someone's weak. And useless except, erm." She fell quiet, and finished in a whisper. "Except in bed."

"Hmph!" Theotar spread his arms. "Am I not soft of heart? Am I not an eager lover? I am a softling, and I shall declare myself such. Let it be known in Revendreth that a softling is neither useless not a coward!" He chuckled. "And I, ah, am rather good at bedding." Theotar kissed the tip of Gwennit's ear. "As you well know."

"You, er, know softlings don't, erm, lie with women, right?"

"I have not lain with a lady since you died, my Gwennit. Many have offered to keep the prince consort warm while the prince works to repair the Sire's treachery, but there is only one besides my Renathal whom I would love, and she is just here." He took Gwennit's hand and raised it to his lips. "If softlings find no charm in ladies, let me be the exception."

Gwennit shook her head as she put her arms around him. "You only want to call yourself that because I said it."

"And because it is true. Would I not look fine on a great warrior's arm? You, remember, are a great warrior indeed."

She snorted. "Theotar?"

"Yes, dowsabel?"

"Could you hold me? For a while? Make me feel good for something? I don't like parties. I don't know politics. And I'm no good at lying about, doing nothing, like the nobles seem to do. I'm useless here. Maybe I'm the softling."

"You are not useless. We will find things for you to do and love. The dredgers will be delighted when they hear you have returned, and Mona would give you a position in the downstairs tavern if only you ask! Or even the upstairs, if you wish, but it would shatter my poor heart. That said," and he grinned, "you are deliciously soft. And I would gladly have you on my arm for eternity. Would you like that, my little pastry?"

Gwennit shrugged, but could not help smiling. "You are a duke. That's a warrior. S-sort of. A-and you duel with words whenever someone annoys you."

"Which is mainly Renathal, these days. He is most stubborn." Theotar chuckled and kissed her nose. "Would you care to be on his arm? Childish and petulant or not, he is a great warrior. And a fair duellist, even if Rowyn continues to thrash him every chance he gets."

"Rowyn thrashes everyone, though."

"This is true. Though you still have two warriors upon whose arms to swoon." Theotar scooped Gwennit up and cradled her to his chest, as he did when she was tiny and alive. "But I would rather you not be silent. You are clever and kind, and have great things to say, even when it is only to warn your children from unfit suitors."

"Sassy mentioned that?"

"Your Leo did." Theotar kissed her forehead. "I think he was a little bit sweet on Miss Sassy, the poor girl. I liked her a great deal. She understood the importance of parties within the realm of politics." He shook his head. "If I had known the Sire's favourites would destroy her, I would have garotted them in a dark place and left no-one the wiser."

Gwennit shivered. "So would I."

He kissed her on the lips, a brief, gentle touch. "Come. I shall read you my account of our initial life together while we lie in bed. Is that acceptable, my dearest duchess?"

"Oh, yes."

Gwennit woke with her head on Theotar's shoulder. Real. He was real. She pressed her face to his skin and breathed his skin, his sweat, his hair tonics, the day's tang. Sighing, she wrapped her arm around his chest, just above where his book lay open on his belly. He smacked his mouth in his sleep and rolled towards her so his book got pinned between them. She kissed its cover and set it aside. Really, he saw more good in her than anyone ought. A kiss to his chin, and she snuggled closer.

As much as Revendreth had changed, Theotar was still her Theotar.

Soon, Renathal crept into the room, barefoot and in shirtsleeves. Next to the bed, he folded his arms behind his back and cleared his throat. Gwennit eased from Theotar's arms and rolled to face him.

"I'm terribly sorry I upset you," Renathal said under his breath. "I don't regret what I said, but I do regret the tone in which I spoke."

"It's all right."

"No, it's not." Renathal sat on the edge of the bed. "You were already upset. I made it worse." He looked at her. "Please don't go. Give us a year, at least. Then you can decide. Even if you want nothing to do with me---"

"Don't say that."

"You'd be justified. I won't keep you from Theotar if---"

"Shut up and get in bed before we wake him."

Renathal stood long enough to remove his belt and shirt and set them on the long chest at the foot of the bed. He stopped short of Gwennit on the bed, sitting on his knees, hands pressed to the velvet coverlet. He watched, gripping the coverlet, shifting his feet behind him if the pull of the fabric meant anything. Gwennit sighed and turned to cuddle Theotar.

"Don't make me order you, Renathal."

The muscles in her back relaxed as he pressed against her back and put his arm around her. She snuggled into his warmth. After seven years without touch, without voices, with only the lich for company, the breeze atop Sinfall had been enough to make her break out in goose-flesh. Renathal, his heat and strength and breadth and the asylum within his arms set her heart pounding, her fingers twitching, her flesh aching for a million hands and lips upon her naked skin. She breathed to the metronome racing within her chest: in for eight beats, hold for eight, out for eight more.

Theotar muttered something about "Crown Prince Gubbins the Delightful." Gwennit's breathing broke as she giggled.

"It's a long story," Renathal said.

"We have time."

"I don't understand why you want anything to do with me after I spoke to you like---"

"Did you know I was the one who insisted we find you after you entitled me? After my life, I can handle a little bit of irrational behaviour. At least yours is well-intentioned."

"That was your idea? Looking for me?"

"Of course it was. Theotar thought I'd be furious."

"Were you?"

"Yes. I still wanted you to stay."

"Why?" Renathal pulled her closer and rubbed his cheek against her hair. Gwennit pushed for more. "After the way I treated you for so long---"

"It started because I wanted Theotar to be happy after I died. It continued because I got to know you. Because I saw what he fell in love with. I suppose I'm similar enough to him to, you know...."

"Bring home strays?"

"Strays?" Gwennit turned her head, then the rest of her, to face him. "You're a prince! Not a street cur."

"Did Theotar ever tell you of his fondness for cats?" Renathal chuckled. "If you go behind the castle, where the kitchens are, you'll find fresh bowls of water and what-have-you every single day."

"He mentioned cats once or twice, but...."

Renathal kissed her head. "You still have any number of things to learn about him. And me. You and I hardly know each other, really." He traced her ear. "It's why I asked you to give us a year. So you can know if you really want to stay."

"But I do. Only, I want my Revendreth back."

"As do I." He rested his chin on her head so she breathed the scent of the skin on his throat, the sweat and fragrance of his hair, the spice and iron of things running close to the surface. "Our Revendreths are very different places. Just like my Denathrius, as I chose to see him, was so different from the thing you faced."

Gwennit rubbed his back. It was smoother than it used to be, or smoother than her decaying memories insisted. "Tell me. I know he replaced your teeth when you ruined them with sweets, but what else did he do? What made you call him your father?"

Renathal chuckled. "Oh, goodness. All the times I ran to him with a bloody chin and a fang in my hand, whinging, 'Father, fix it, please!' I'm amazed it took so long for him to punt me into the Maw." He sighed. "I never had a childhood as you and Theotar did in life, but Denathrius did his best. Especially in the early days, before my sisters and brothers came along. My brothers are dead now. Only two of my sisters still live. It's hard to look back and realise only three of us remain."

"Did you love them?"

"More than anything. At least in the early days. There were seven of us, and Father. And the Winter Queen, sometimes. Oh, she was lovely. Seldom spoke, but she treated me as you do the dredgers. Kissing bruises, hugging me, helping me fix things before Father found out so he wouldn't lose his temper. He had a terrible temper, even in the early days."

Renathal lifted his hand to his cheek. Gwennit took it and kissed along his cheekbone and down to his jaw. She drew back far enough to look him in the eye. "He hurt you."

"Many times. Mostly in duels. Sword training. Hand-to-hand combat drills. My siblings worked with each other, mostly, but Father insisted I learn alongside him. But, er." Renathal rubbed a spot in the middle of his cheekbone. "I think he was as shocked as I was when the bone snapped. That first time, at least." He shuddered and went quiet.

"Renathal?" Gwennit pushed his hair out of his face. "Tell me. What is it?"

Renathal swallowed so his throat bobbed. "Even Theotar doesn't--I hadn't meant to break the vase. I know the Winter Queen gave it to Father, a mark of her affection. I was only trying to get a better look, but it slipped. I was only looking." His breaths grew quick. Gwennit shushed him and rubbed his back in circles, but he gazed into the past.

"Even when I swore I'd fix it, good as new, he shouted that it was ruined. Would never be right. He didn't understand how beautiful flaws are. How unique they are. He made me fling my favourite sword from the edge of the world. Then he struck me. All I remember is the snap, and his eyes going wide just as the pain hit. He left me there. He only said one thing. 'Remember this lesson'."

Gwennit pressed her forehead to Renathal's. "My love. That wasn't a lesson. It was cruelty."

"But I remembered it." He shivered. "The Curator found me and patched me up. She's a healer, you know. Of all my siblings, she's always been my favourite."

"She seems awfully sweet."

"You should have known her before the Maw." Renathal snorted. "Actually, no, you shouldn't have. You'd have probably taken up with her instead of Theotar and me. She was quite charming back then. Clever as anything. Brilliant, even. I miss who she was, nearly as much as I miss the old Theotar."

"Denathrius hurt all of you."

"From the beginning." Renathal sighed. "Forgive me. I've, er, I've not been at my best since returning to the castle. Theotar refused to live in Darkwall Tower. He said we need to have the option of space, else we would annoy one another to the breaking point. As usual, he was right. And now, with you here--I still can hardly believe it, you know?"

"Like you'll wake up and it'll all be gone."

"Just so." Renathal smiled as though he wanted to cry. "Just so, my lady."

Gwennit kissed him. He returned it, hard, hungry, pressing her to the bed. It broke, and he wrapped his arms around her. "Don't go. Please don't leave again."

"I don't want to."

"They stay. Forever. You've got forever now. It's not so bad. I promise, it's not so bad. If--if you can tolerate me, I mean. I know I'm terrible. And immature, and unpredictable, and should probably renounce my position to work in a pub, but...."

"We could work for Mona. Sneak upstairs from time to time."

"Oh, she'd certainly enjoy that. Fucking going on in her establishment, and she's not invited?" Renathal snorted. "Never mind that I used to do this thing she always begged--never mind, ancient past."

"Really. Did you, erm, ever do it to me?"

"No. Why, are you interested?"

"I might be."

"It, er, involved her, erm, her arse."

Gwennit tensed. "Oh. That, erm, I might want to watch you do it to Theotar first."

"I suppose I could try." Renathal drew his lips into his mouth, frowning at nothing. "I mean, it involved different anatomy, but I'm sure I'll come up with something."

Gwennit took his hand. "Someday. When I'm feeling brave and curious, I'll try it."

Renathal narrowed his eyes. "I shan't do anything you're uncomfortable---"

"You and Theotar like it. A lot. I'm, erm, I'm sure we could get some sand grease---"

"Apart from the hoard we've got tucked away? That shan't be a problem. Once Mona learned the brokers could get it, it became one of the most popular wares in the realm. One of our spirits knows the formula and manufacture process, so we've got our own production line in Dredhollow. We sell all across the Shadowlands. It bolsters anima supplies, which helps with rationing." Renathal scowled. "Though I don't want to know how Bubbins knew to steal that particular formula in the first place. He only went after ones that suited his needs."

"I thought you said it was a soul, not a dredger."

Renathal laughed. "Theotar's eldest ward. He has a small gaggle of child souls he looks after, all living in the castle, each with a list of chores that never get done. Let's see." He counted on his fingers. "Bubbins, Dubbins, Chubbins--right terror, that girl. Makes my skin creep, simply looking at her. Erm, Mubbins and Jubbins are twins. The rest are Lubbins, Zubbins, Kubbins, and Shubbins. I think."

"And Hubbins, my love." Theotar grunted as he stretched. "I am running out of names."

"Right, as of last week. Forgive me, I forgot the little darling. Arson, that one. Died aged twelve when he got caught in his school, which he had set alight."

"Hmph! Stefan and I have a delightful lesson plan to make best use of his talents."

"Please don't burn down the castle."

"The castle is safe."

"Please, please don't burn down Revendreth. We're working so hard to fix it as things stand!"

Theotar snorted and kissed Gwennit, then Renathal. "I am glad you have come to peace, my loves. It has been a difficult day, and it is not even time for lunch. I do hope my wards are following their studies without me."

"Ah, yes, Prince Theotar's School For the Malevolent and Bloodthirsty. Rehabilitating Tiny Murderers Since Lady Frizzelle Flung Herself Into the Maw."

"My prince! How dare you tell such lies to my dowsabel!"

But Renathal burst out laughing. "Come on! Those brats learn from each other, and you know it. Polite hellions are still hellions."

"They are getting better!"

"The other day, Shubbins very politely offered me a canister of some goblin substance called kerosene, the formula for which Bubbins memorised alongside at least twenty others during his life of rampant industrial sabotage and patent theft. Apparently, kerosene is excellent for, and I quote, 'getting good them what deserves it, and you bet your boots, Princy'."

"Pfft!" Theotar motioned in the air. "I will have a talk with them. If need be, I will give them separate lessons."

"Separate holding crypts, more like."

"My prince! This is part of your 'new Revendreth', remember? Where we treat souls with fairness and respect?"

"Yes, fairness and respect. Not etiquette books and pickpocketing sessions at Court!"

"Pickpocketing! What are---"

Renathal cleared his throat.

Theotar sighed. "I still say that was a one-time crime spree. They are children!"

"Children with enough sins to come to Revendreth."

"Children!"

"Could I help? Care for them?" Gwennit looked between Theotar and Renathal. "If--if that's all right."

"Dowsabel." Theotar hugged her and rocked her from side to side. "Oh, my love! The little ones will adore you! We will have to speak with the Accuser first, of course."

"It sounds like a fine idea. I'll gladly give you a character reference. The Maw Walkers we keep in touch with likely will, too." Renathal kissed Gwennit. "You see? You have got a purpose here. You'll be under Theotar, of course, at least in the beginning---"

"My dowsabel has never complained about being under me."

"Shush." Renathal stroked Gwennit's hair. "Are you feeling any better?"

Gwennit shrugged. "I don't know yet."

"A year. That's all I ask. I promise, you'll be happy here, whether we're in Sinfall or not. If by that time you decide you aren't, we'll find somewhere you are."

"I don't care if I'm happy. All I want is to be with the two of you."

"But my dear, we do not wish to see you miserable." Theotar hugged her. "There must be something---"

"Time. Give me time." Gwennit squirmed. Behind her eyes, a seed of pain sprouted. "I think I need rest."

Renathal peered into her eyes. "You need a proper meal. All you've had is a scant mouthful of blood and anima."

"I'm not hungry! Why do you keep telling me to eat?"

"Gwennit, how many newborn venthyr have I seen in their first hours?"

She shrugged, and could not quite look him in the eye. "Thousands?"

"Nearly all of them. They seldom realise it, but they're starving. You're starving. Think about earlier. Drinking my blood. My anima. How did you feel with it in your mouth?"

"I don't--I mean---"

"'Ravenous' is the word you want. It was the best thing you've ever tasted. It shot through you like life and love and freedom and fucking and the most exotic delicacies you could ever imagine. Every piece of you came alive, right down to your sopping little quim."

"Renathal!" Theotar said. Gwennit stared.

"How do you know that? You can't---"

"I know because my oldest memory, formed just after Denathrius willed me into being, is of sinking my fangs into the meat of his hand as he ran his fingers through my hair. I loved him from that instant. I had no choice."

"It was much the same for me, dowsabel." Theotar sat up and combed her hair with his fingers. "An inquisitor saw me stumble and gave me her arm. Oh, she was beautiful in that moment! I thought she must have been a goddess. Ilena was her name. Oh, dear Ilena. We became very close friends, almost as close as I am to the Countess. Were she not married, I would have surely fallen in love and begged her to by my bride."

"Oh." Gwennit shifted. "Wh-where is she?"

Theotar sighed. "The Ember Ward took her soon after Denathrius discovered the rebellion. I knew her when I saw her, even lost to ash. One of the hardest things I have ever done was ending her suffering. It was as bad as letting you go, knowing you would not return."

"Oh, my love." Gwennit went into his arms. Where she rested her ear against his neck, his pulse thrummed, as strong and swift as ever. She kissed the spot where blood flowed closest to the skin. "I'm so sorry."

"I am only sorry she was too far gone to save. I would have done anything for her."

"What about her husband? Or wife?"

"Devahia tried to find her," Renathal said. "But she went to the Maw. With me."

"Sire's mercy." Gwennit squeezed his fingers. "None of you deserved any of that."

"I did. For putting my closest allies in such danger with foolish decisions. But that is not what we are discussing." Renathal kissed her hand. "When one sires a redeemed soul, it falls to them to feed their ward as soon as possible. Same goes for any who choose to take a new venthyr into their care, as we have done for you. Unfortunately, it's crass to be direct. I had hoped Theotar might, erm, forget his manners---"

"Renathal!"

Renathal chuckled. "But it's so funny when you forget yourself! I suppose it's best Gwennit took the decision from my hands, so to speak."

Theotar huffed and shook his head. "You are terrible, my dearest prince! Though I would have offered in private, crass or not. I must care for my Gwennit, as she cares for me."

Gwennit glanced between Theotar's neck and his arm. "Could you? Taste you?"

"Dowsabel! That is terribly rude!" Theotar flicked his forearm with his fingernail. "You have lost all manners in death. Hmph, I choose to blame that awful Jailer. He must have devoured them and not given them back! Ah, here. This is a good spot." He held out his arm and rubbed a place just below his elbow's crease. "Take your fill, my love. I have plenty."

Gwennit lifted her gaze from his arm to his eyes as she grasped his elbow and wrist. "Thank you," she said against the skin, and Theotar shivered. Renathal laid his palm on her back.

"Go on." He kissed her ear. "Show us how you feed."

Even under fangs, Theotar's skin resisted. It snapped when her teeth sank through. He groaned. Metal and ginger sparked in Gwennit's throat. She whimpered and wrapped her arms around Theotar's, iron flooding her nose and stinging her mouth. She bit deeper, heat coursing through her body and to her quim.

Theotar grunted. He pressed his hand to his lap. "My dear, you are making me---"

He gasped. Gwennit closed her eyes. She shifted her leg beneath her and ground her heel against herself. She whimpered against Theotar's arm and strained to draw more.

Renathal drew the tip of his tongue around her ear. "When we lie together, we do this only with those we hold dearest. The only ones with whom I have share love and blood together are my first infatuation--one of the nathrezim, if you believe it--and Kassir. And, of course, our Theotar." He sucked her earlobe and let it slip from his mouth. "But I would very much like to taste your blood while inside you."

Gwennit whimpered. Blood gushed into her mouth, fast and strong and fiery. She yanked her robe to her waist and opened her trousers. She stuck her hand inside, gnawing Theotar's arm for more blood, more life, more of him. Her nub stood hard with blood and tingling with anima. Theotar whined.

"My dear, let me taste you."

Gwennit worked her fingers into her quim. She ground against them, against her fingernails scraping her open. When she pulled her hand free, blood and fluids clung to her skin. She held her fingers to Theotar's lips. He sucked, thrusting his tongue between them, and gnawed with his molars. Renathal kissed him, pushed his tongue inside, taking Gwennit's hand as he did.

"My lady." He pressed against her back. "You are even more exquisite than you were in life."

"Stop." Theotar panted. "Stop, dowsabel."

Gwennit froze. She withdrew her fangs, and licked blood from his skin and around her mouth. "What did I do?"

"Nothing, my love." Theotar pressed his thighs together. His trousers strained with his cock. "Only, do not do this unless you would without the blood. Without the biting."

"Ah, right." Renathal sat against the padded headboard, where the velvet had worn thin. "Perhaps this was a bad idea. You're so unhappy---"

"The two of you are the only things that have made me happy so far. Do you know how often I imagined you in my crypt? How much it hurt that I couldn't touch you? I imagined so many things. I had to tell the lich to keep my sanity!"

Theotar licked his arm. Blood stained his lips. Gwennit sucked his wound clean, the blood cool and searing at once. Theotar whined.

"Dowsabel. Please. Stop if you do not---"

Gwennit removed her hood and set to the buttons at the back of her neck, the only ones she could reach. "Stop asking if I'm sure. Forget manners. Forget making me come before you, and letting me be in control. Both of you, right now: get my clothes off me, and shove something in my cunt."

They stared. Theotar's mouth fell open, and his cock twitched in his trousers.

"Gwennit," Renathal said. Gwennit climbed onto his lap and ground against his cock.

"Is His Highness too weak to fuck me?" She panted, riding him through their clothes, and rolled to her back to fight her trousers from her legs. A tangled eternity, and she flung them to the floor and straddled him again. "Have you forgot how to make me come?"

"Death has made you bold, my lady." Renathal nudged her aside and opened his trousers. His cock rose, red with anima. He stroked it. Gwennit licked the head, and Renathal sighed. "Keep doing that, if you'd like--or this. This is nice."

She stroked him twice more, and climbed into his lap and held his cock still. No longer did it overfill her grasp. If anything, he felt like Theotar, thick and long and just right to stretch her short of pain. Gwennit shifted her hips and sank onto him, moaning. Renathal whimpered. Theotar pressed against her back and kissed her throat, and set to undoing her buttons.

"You cannot ruin your only clothes for the sake of a fuck, dowsabel. Besides," and he slid his hands around to squeeze her breasts, "I would like to watch him move in and out."

"Why can't you could both fit inside me? Mm!" Gwennit tipped her head so her hair tickled where Theotar had opened her robes. "Mmm, Renathal!"

"My dearest lady. Oh, my Gwennit!" He squeezed her hips. She gasped as his fingernail broke her skin, and the pain, the heat of it, went to her nub. She thrust her hand between them and inside her, only far enough to wet her fingers. A sharp frisson shot through her body from her claw. She cried out.

Theotar pulled her robe over her head. "There we go! Touch yourself, dowsabel. My beautiful little rabbit. Do you fuck like a rabbit?" He put his arms around her and kneaded her breasts until she gasped at a jolt like a warning peak. His cock stood free of his trousers so it rubbed her arse as she rode Renathal. Theotar rolled her nipples between fingers and thumbs. Renathal sucked her blood from his fingertip and thrust so hard she bounced.

"Bite her. Bite her neck so we can share our morsel."

"Renathal! Not without her permiss---"

"She doesn't want to have to give it." Renathal's eyes dilated until they turned more red than black. "Bite her. Drink her blood. Taste her sweet, young anima."

"Yes," Gwennit whispered. She wiggled her nub with her wet finger. Tipped her head to the side. Squeezed Renathal inside her. "Ruin me. Both of you, fuck me however you wish."

Renathal chuckled. "Had I the choice, I'd have your snug little arsehole."

Gwennit shot him a look. He laughed. "I'm not that inconsiderate! It's not something one leaps into."

"Would you shut up and fuck me?"

"Oh, would I? Theotar, bite her. Shut her mouth."

Gwennit whined at Theotar's breath on her neck. Renathal's cock jerked against something inside her, and she cried out. Theotar pushed his teeth into her flesh, and the world darkened at the edges. Gwennit moaned, and rubbed herself harder, harder, to the border of pain. Theotar sucked her blood, keening in his nose, grinding against her arse. He shivered, and leaned forward to let a mouthful of blood trickle between Renathal's open lips. Renathal dragged him close and kissed him, pushed his hand around Gwennit, stroked Theotar's cock. The kiss broke, Gwennit's blood staining their lips and the skin around their mouths even as it trickled over her shoulder and dripped from her breast.

"Someday," and Renathal hissed his S's, "you shall take her quim while I fuck her arse. Only the thinnest layer of flesh between us as we sully our bride. If only she was as tiny as in life, I could kiss you and take your blood as we used her."

The heat in Gwennit's quim ignited. She licked her own blood from her breast. It burst in her mouth and woke a beast between her thighs. Harder, faster she rode, tightening everywhere as she took everything Renathal gave. She smeared her blood over her face, licked her fingers, sucked them clean, gathered more blood to rub her nub until it jerked under her finger, her legs shook, she pulsed inside, and--and---

As she erupted, the blood on her breast fizzed with red sparks. They rose into the air and were gone.

"Oh, my," Theotar said as Gwennit tipped forward. Her head spun even as she snuggled against Renathal's side, face down on the bed. He turned to cuddle her and chuckled.

"I've not seen anyone burn their own anima like that in a while." He kissed her head. "Goodness."

"Mm." Gwennit rubbed her face against the white hair under his arm. He smelled of blood and ginger and lust, with the day's foetid tinge beneath it all. She breathed again, again.

"You are bleeding on the bed, dowsabel."

Gwennit whined as Theotar pulled her to sit. He licked her neck in slow, long strokes. The tingle in her flesh ebbed, as did the blood, and she sighed.

"Could I have what's left?" Renathal held out his hand. "Only the bit that dripped. What's not on the bed."

"Of course, my dearest prince."

Gwennit wobbled as Theotar moved her with more care than such a fuck deserved. Renathal licked a stripe from her nipple to her collarbone as he wiped a bit from her belly with his finger. He sucked it clean and sighed. "Lovely. There's nothing like blood after a good fuck."

Gwennit grunted. "You di'nt...."

"Neither has Theotar, if you're interested in another go. If not, I suppose we can make do with each other."

Theotar scoffed. "Make do!"

Renathal chuckled. "Would you rather I say we can delight in each other? Explore one another's bodies with all the enthusiasm of curious virgins?"

"Hmph! It is a start!"

"Then why don't you come here and take your blushing, innocent groom?"

Theotar poked his tongue out as Gwennit snorted. She rolled onto her back and stretched her toes.

"Theotar?" She put out her arms. He crawled over Renathal and settled atop her, and with the tip of his tongue teased her all around her mouth.

"How are you such a mess, dowsabel? We shall require a bath once we are through."

"Hmm." She pushed a loose piece of hair out of his face. "Would you have me, my softling?"

"Always." Theotar kissed her.

"Softling?" Renathal said. "Oh, that suits."

Theotar shushed him and returned to kissing Gwennit. He lay atop her, his weight a shield, his cock between her upper thighs. She squeezed her legs together, and he whimpered.

"If you keep that up, my rabbit, I shan't last."

"Then come inside me. Please."

"I hope I do not disappoint you, dowsabel. I, er, am much smaller, relatively speaking, than I once was."

"I don't care. You could have nothing, and I'd want you." She kissed his neck and drew her nails up his back. He gasped. "Please. Have me."

He shifted. Gwennit put her arms and legs around him, held him, kissed his ear and the side of his neck. She gasped as he pressed inside: small enough to slip into her body without a stutter in his motions, large enough to hold her open, keep her full, make a shiver run through her flesh to her scalp, her fingertips, her curling toes. She pushed her hips to take all of him. Moaned as he thrust with her.

"Theotar." Gwennit kissed his jaw at the edge of his beard. "My Theotar."

"My Gwennit." He sighed against her throat. "You are home."

Theotar drew her hair from her face, the strands tickling and catching her eyebrows. He ran his fingers through it as he pressed into her again and again. Renathal rolled closer and kissed her ear, her shoulder, her upper arm, set to rubbing his face against Theotar's shoulder.

"My loves," he whispered. "You are the finest of sights."

Gwennit pecked him. "Us, or Theotar's arse?"

Renathal snorted, and Theotar huffed. Renathal ducked and kissed Theotar's arse, once on each side.

"Rude prince! I am trying to love my dowsabel." Theotar stroked her cheek. "She said to have her however we wish, I and I shall have her gently and carefully, as gently as I might pluck a rose. Oh, she does love it when I am gentle."

"Show me how gentle you can be." Gwennit pressed into his slow thrust. She cupped his face. "My duke."

"My dearest duchess." Theotar kissed her shoulder. She sighed as the touch spread in an army of tiny bumps.

They kissed. Gwennit's neck no longer burned while straining to meet him, and he did not duck his head between his shoulders. Gwennit sighed against his mouth, joining him in his pace, easing against him. He kissed her once more and drew back to smile, his hand beneath her head.

"The loveliest of all ladies."

"The handsomest of all gentlemen."

Theotar rubbed her ear with his thumb. "You still wear my cuff, you know. It remains in your very flesh."

"You said it would stay as long as I wanted it to." Gwennit ran her finger along his right ear. "You've got wrens."

"Of course, dowsabel. We wanted you with us always. You and the Verdant Court are the things that brought us together."

Gwennit grinned, though ducked her head. "It would have happened eventually."

"Ah, but you insisted I be happy with or without you. You invited Renathal. You let me love him when you did not need to give such great permission. It could have been aeons yet before we returned to each other, had you not given us such a gift."

"What are you talking about? I only said you, erm, you were allowed to---"

She gasped as he struck a spot within her. "Oh, my love." Another jolt, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Mmm, don't stop. Don't stop!"

"Never." Theotar's voice cracked on the word.

Moments, and he panted. He slowed, pushing deeper, a sweet stretch Gwennit arched into. She tingled all around him, all through her body, her bones, her muscles, the anima dancing with her blood.

"Mm, Theotar. Peak for me."

He shook his head and ground deep inside her, twisting his hips. Gwennit moaned. A wave towered on the horizon. Her breaths quickened. Her heart throbbed. She pressed him deeper, deeper with her heels, rutting on his cock, grinding, her face against his neck, whimpering, whimpering, whimpering---

The wave crashed. Gwennit tightened beneath it, cried out, gripped Theotar lest it wash her away. The world wavered as though underwater. Gwennit closed her eyes just as Theotar grunted and let a long, deep groan, stiffening atop her, keeping her safe as the wave drew her into nothing.

When she opened her eyes, her head spinning, Theotar smiled. He fell next to her and put his head on her chest. Gwennit stroked his sweaty back. "My love."

He kissed her breast. "My dowsabel. You are really here."

Renathal sat a hand-width away, his legs crossed, a faint frown twisting his mouth. Gwennit took his hand.

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing."

"Yes, it---"

"He is jealous." Theotar kissed Gwennit's shoulder. "And envious. He fears he will lose me to you, though he would never say such a thing, just as he fears he cannot be gentle, no matter how gentle he truly is."

Gwennit stared. Renathal looked away. "You both deserve better."

Gwennit pressed her forehead to his. "Stop. We chose you. Do you understand? We want to be with you. If I decide to leave, it will not be because of you, and Theotar will remain here. With you. Whatever you believe about yourself, whatever fragment of Denathrius whispers that you should have stayed in the Maw, it's wrong. We love you as you are." She traced his cheekbone. "If you want to be gentle, be gentle. I know you are with Theotar. You touch him like he's made of flowers. Nothing is stopping you from being the same with me."

Renathal lifted his gaze. "You know about Denathrius?"

"I know it's his voice speaking when you criticise yourself. Calling you a traitor. Saying you're as awful as you think you are. I used to hear Arthas and the Blightcaller the same way. I'm certain Theotar used to hear his brother."

Renathal hugged her. Squeezed, his face to the crook of her neck. Gwennit stroked his hair. Kissed his temple. Theotar pressed against Renathal's back, holding him, rocking him, murmuring in Revendreth's rolling language, the one they seldom used save to order bats and gargons, or name what they loved: Vrednic, Puternic, others among them. The language they never spoke except among venthyr, which she had only ever heard in snippets when they thought she was asleep.

"Shhh, dragul meu." Theotar looked to Gwennit, who nodded. He eased Renathal onto his back and pulled his trousers off him, then his own, and sat between Renathal's legs, naked, to rub his tensing, twitching abdomen. Gwennit cuddled against Renathal's side and kissed his chest, over and over, stroking his skin, its scant hairs, the scars of battle. She murmured in Gutterspeak.

"What are you saying?" Renathal's voice was as faint as a frightened child's.

"I'm calling you the loveliest man I've ever seen, because you are. I'm saying you're clever and loyal and strong, and that you deserve all good things."

Renathal shuddered, even as Theotar caressed his thighs, his touch light and fingers slow. Gwennit kissed Renathal's cheek and whispered, "Tell us."

"You can't go." Renathal pulled her closer. "I can't bear to see you walk away again. Either of you."

"Oh, my love. My Renathal. What do you want most?" Theotar rubbed Renathal's belly, long sweeps of his palms. "Of anything. This moment. Whether from us or anyone else."

Renathal shook his head. He put his chin atop Gwennit's head. His breath hitched.

"Say it, iubi. Tell us."

Renathal took a sharp breath. "I want my father back."

Gwennit sat up. "He broke your cheek! And Arbiter knows what else!"

Theotar went still. He curled his fingers into a fist. "He did what?"

Renathal shook his head as he turned on his side, his back to them. "Nothing. He did nothing---"

"Renathal accidentally broke a gift from the Winter Queen. When she and Denathrius were lovers."

Something in Theotar shifted. Darkened. Became more beast than venthyr. His black of his eyes swallowed their amber glow as he took Renathal's chin and made him look at them. "I will end him, my prince. Whatever remains of his wretched soul."

"But---"

Theotar spat towards the foot of the bed. "He does not deserve the name of father! How many times?"

"I--only the---"

"How many times?"

Renathal's jaw worked. "I lost count. Mostly, they were accidents."

"Your beloved Sire never existed. And I will destroy the monster he always was."

Renathal stared. "He'll hurt you."

"I am not the one with no choice but to love him. I am not the one who drank his blood at the moment of my birth. I am not the one who gave him a chance of redemption. Had I known what he did, I would have gone to Dawnkeep and burned his sword and his soul to dust!"

"I never told you because I knew you'd do just that! He's so much stronger---"

"I will hunt him down and show you which of us is stronger!"

Renathal shivered. Theotar kissed him. Renathal returned it, lips and tongues and fangs, and a trickle of blood from the corner of Theotar's mouth. Gwennit licked it and trembled at the rage, the need to protect, the power that rode it. Renathal caught both of them and held them, kissing one, then the other.

"Denathrius will have to face three of us if he wants you." Gwennit nipped Renathal's jaw. "Theotar, me, and the lich."

"What if it---"

"The lich wants nothing to do with anyone who plots with the Jailer." Gwennit shut her eyes. She called the lich, offered her voice, her mouth, long enough to---

"We will never cease to defend this realm. Only when his filth is no more will we rest in our duties."

Gwennit's deep voice echoed in her ears. The lich's words, her body. She lifted her hand and summoned a ball of blue flame. Red anima sparkled on its surface, a scent of ginger and vicious Zandalari chiles rising, rising, searing the air.

"We are one," she and the lich said. "And we will protect you and this land from anything that may come."

"By the Maw." Theotar touched her cheek. "My dowsabel."

Gwennit closed her hand. The flame snuffed in her grasp. The lich sank into its dwelling, scattered amidst her soul. "Anything that threatens Revendreth has to get past me."

Renathal took her hands. "Is that your role here? To protect us from my father?"

"I suppose it is. And anything else that comes." Gwennit swallowed. "Have my sinstone set in front of the castle. Show everyone exactly what defends Revendreth."

"You'll stay?"

"If it means you're safe."

Renathal hugged her. "My duchess. My princess."

"What about my poor children?" Theotar said. "They need a mother to help guide them."

"I can protect us from them, too."

Renathal chuckled. Theotar scoffed

"You are both terrible!" He crossed his arms. "They are mere children!"

"They're a criminal syndicate, Theotar." Gwennit kissed his forehead. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

"But the Accuser---"

"Will absolutely welcome the help," Renathal said. "Remember what happened to her favourite ring last Court the little brats attended? I think she'd allow a rabid bat to help!"

"They needed to practise their manners!"

"Theotar, I love you, but you have no sense of discipline. You ought to let Gwennit help you tuck the little bastards in tonight. The lich could read them a story!"

"I think that would scare them," Gwennit said, and Renathal grinned.

"As I said, my dear lady."

She tucked his hair behind his ears. "Do you feel better?"

"Knowing that you'll stay, yes. At least, you'll stay for now." He pulled her to his chest. "I still miss my father. I want the one I imagined he was."

Gwennit kissed his forehead. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Is there something else, you would like, my dear prince?" Theotar leaned forward and kissed the middle of Renathal's chest. "My beautiful husband."

Renathal smiled. "You know damned well I'm not, no matter how much you say it."

Theotar tilted his head. "Of course you are my husband. I was at the wedding!"

"He meant he's not beautiful. But you are, my prince." Gwennit traced Renathal's cheeks, the line of his nose, his soft, white eyebrows. "You're incredibly beautiful. Do you know how many Maw Walkers I saw try to get into your trousers?"

"It must be a matter of mortal tastes, then." Renathal turned on his side and squeezed her hip. "I'd like you, again. And I'd like to watch you and Theotar once more, later. If you want. Though I wouldn't say no to lunch first."

"We could drop in on Mona," Theotar said. "She has that delightful troll cook under her hand! Such a talented soul!"

"He cooked other trolls, Theotar."

"I'd like to see her." Gwennit rested her head on Renathal's arm. "I still can't believe she's married."

"And soulbound!" Theotar sighed. "It was a most romantic ceremony."

"She swore she'd never do that."

"Yes, well." Renathal nuzzled Gwennit's hair. "Watching us lose you, then marrying aeons after we should have? It all seems to have changed her mind. Mihaela becoming a Harvester didn't hurt matters."

Gwennit huddled against him. "I haven't got to face Kael'thas, do I?"

"Not unless he comes to the castle. I don't think he's been here since he received his position. He mostly stays in the mires these days."

Gwennit relaxed, though a piece of tension ached between her shoulder blades. "He'll hate me even more now."

"You helped defeat the Jailer. You might be surprised."

She shook her head. "I don't want to think about him."

"Really." Renathal pushed her onto her back and rolled atop her. "Then what would you like to think about?"

"You. Being gentle."

"I'll do my best. Only," and he motioned to himself, "look at me. Too many people only ever wanted me to use my strength."

"I like you strong." Gwennit ran her hands through his silky hair. Theotar lay beside them, his hand beneath his cheek. "But right now, show me how gentle you can be."

"Go on, my prince." Theotar stroked Renathal's ear. "You are the gentlest lover I have ever known, when you wish to be."

"Gentler than Gwennit?"

"Yes." Theotar kissed him. "By very little, but yes."

"Gentler than the Countess?"

"There is nothing gentle about the Countess, my love. You know better than that." Theotar pecked Renathal. "Go on. Show Gwennit how gentle you can be."

Renathal looked at her. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Gwennit traced the lines of his face, the dark moons beneath his eyes, the curve of his bottom lip. She leaned high enough to speak in his ear.

"May I drink from you, my love?"

Atop her, he shivered. "Yes." His voice rasped in his throat. "Please do."

Gwennit sighed and nuzzled his throat. She kissed the hard bump in the middle, the long muscles stretching from behind his jaw, and to the side. His weight did not quite push the breath from her body. Rather, it held comfort, peace, security as pure as the womb. She kissed his neck, again, again, all around the pulse, all around the hottest point, where a scent of ginger carried through his skin. Gwennit sucked the spot until Renathal grunted, and, as though he might crack, she pressed her fangs into the great vein at the side of his neck.

Renathal gasped and put his arms around her. Blood filled her mouth, warm and tingling, spicy and metallic, sending tingles into her nose and through her blood. Gwennit sighed, as did Theotar, who gazed, a dopey smile across his face. She sucked, deliberate kisses from deep in her mouth; drank Renathal as though easing him to softness with his spend on her tongue. She pressed her hand to the other side of his neck, and her thigh between his legs.

"Mm!" Renathal shivered. "I can--I can smell you. I can smell your wet. Oh, Sire, your mouth is a drug!"

Gwennit motioned to Theotar. He crawled closer and kissed her cheek, then Renathal's, and pressed his mouth to the wound. He whimpered, gnawing. Gwennit licked a thin trickle before it could drip, and kissed Renathal with his blood on her lips.

He groaned. Quivered so the kiss broke. Theotar lifted his eyebrow and pressed his tongue to Renathal's neck until the bleeding slowed. Drops oozed to the surface. Gwennit licked them and rubbed her leg against his hard cock.

"Come inside me." She cupped his face between her hands. "You haven't got to wait if you don't want."

Renathal's jaw clenched. He kissed her, a delicate touch that shot to her quim, and shifted his knees to wrap his hand around himself. Gwennit pulled him close. She groaned when he pushed his cockhead inside.

"More." She panted. "More, please."

"Are you sure you're ready? I don't want to---"

"Use your finger. You'll see."

She whimpered when he pulled away, but gasped at his finger, his nail sharp as it slid inside her. Renathal sighed.

"Oh, my lady. Theotar, come. Feel her. Oh, this is astounding."

"My dowsabel reacts beautifully." Still, Theotar squirmed close enough to get his hand between them. He stroked her nub so she gasped, tensing all over, and worked his finger alongside Renathal's. "Oh, my dear! Your tea must be delightful!"

Gwennit pushed her hips to take more of them. She shivered at each sting of their fingernails, each glorious prick echoing through her nerves.

Renathal bent his head and drew his tongue over her quim. Gwennit arched, and against when he ran the tip around her nub. He drew Theotar down and kissed him, long, slow. They pressed closer. Theotar stroked Renathal, who moaned into his mouth.

As lovely as they were together, Renathal's blood lingered in Gwennit's mouth. She squeezed around their fingers until they looked up. Renathal huffed.

"We're in the middle of something, my lady."

"You're in the middle of me. Literally."

"Oh? Ah, we are, aren't we? Theotar? Would you mind if I took our Gwennit instead of you?"

"Not at all." Theotar kissed him. "Might she rest her head on my lap? So we both might hold her?"

"I'd like that," Gwennit said.

"Excellent!" Theotar kissed Renathal once more. It lingered. Renathal moaned and rolled atop him. Theotar pulled Renathal's hair. "My darling husband, you seem to have something in mind for me---"

Gwennit cleared her throat. They looked up. Theotar sighed. "No-one loves Theotar."

"Is this going to turn into the two of you giving me some sort of lesson, only for me to come six times before it even gets started?"

"Excellent, she understands!" Renathal pecked Theotar's nose. "I suppose examples really do help."

Gwennit rolled her eyes. "I could just touch myself---"

"Not today. Tomorrow, perhaps. But not today."

"You're more annoying than I remembered, Your Highness."

"Finally!" Theotar sat up and scooted beside her. "Someone understands! Poor Theotar, all alone for aeons!"

"I was talking to both of you."

Theotar put his hand to his chest. "Dowsabel, you wound me! Oh! Oh, my tender heart!"

"Could Renathal have his way with me now?"

"Of course, my dear!" Theotar kissed her, and sucked his finger clean as he moved about. He settled cross-legged, and lifted Gwennit's head to shift beneath her. "Ah, my loves. Both of you with the softest hair. I shall have to comb it, dowsabel. It was so nice when you looked after mine."

Gwennit took his hand and drew it to her mouth. "Please?"

"After we put the children to bed. Goodness, it shall be as though we have our own little family!"

"Ten children is not a little family, Theotar."

"Especially with that lot." Renathal kissed Gwennit's belly. "Though you would look most charming with child."

Gwennit shuddered. She had helped deliver her share of children among Sin'dorei and other races--even a worgen pup, once, during a walk in the woods with no-one else within earshot--and she had yet to understand how her first self, Annabell, underwent the process five times. She ran her fingers through Renathal's hair.

"We both know that's not going to happen."

He rested his cheek on his thigh. "Probably. But after listening to the Maw Walkers talk about their children, I'm curious as to how well I would do. As a father." Renathal shrugged. "Certainly better than Denathrius."

"Maybe the right soul will come along, my love. You can redeem it. Find out that way."

Renathal chuckled and got to his hands and knees. "Anyhow. We were about to do something that has nothing in common with becoming a parent."

Gwennit lifted her eyebrows. "Erm, do you know that works?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I? I'm a grown venthyr." He rubbed his face in the hair at her quim. "It involves geese. Denathrius explained everything. It's why so many of the wretched birds come here when they should go to the Maw."

Gwennit glanced at Theotar, who shrugged. "He is quite the innocent in many ways."

"Is he--" Gwennit gasped as Renathal teased her nub "--is he old enough to know?"

Renathal showed them a gesture popular among the Horde. Gwennit giggled into her hands. Silly Renathal, bamboozling her. Her giggle broke to a moan when he set to work with his tongue.

"S-stop that!" She pulled his ear. "Get up here and fuck me."

Renathal bowed his head, but kept licking. "Ath uh aee uehuh."

Gwennit sighed. Renathal climbed atop her and said, "As my lady wishes."

"You're very silly."

"You love it."

Gwennit kissed him. "You're lucky I do." She tucked his hair behind his ears, even as Theotar scratched her scalp. "Go on. Please."

Renathal smiled, a true, vivid smile, the one he so rarely gave, yet shone like the Light. "I am so very glad you're here, my princess."

"Princess, is it?"

"A prince needs a princess."

"He already has a prince," Theotar said. "Go on, my love. The silly time is done. Now you must be gentle."

Renathal leaned up and kissed him, then Gwennit. He looked down their bodies. "Tell me if I hurt you."

"You won't. My gentle, handsome prince."

Pink spots rose in Renathal's cheeks. He stroked himself a couple of times. Gwennit put her legs around his hips and drew him closer. She gasped as he pressed inside. He lay atop her, on his elbows. Gwennit held him, pulled him closer, until he rested his weight over her.

"You won't be able to breathe," he said.

"I'm breathing just fine." Gwennit kissed his chin. "You feel wonderful. I'd forgot how good this is."

"You forgot how good Theotar is." Renathal stroked her ear. "I'm still terrified I'll hurt you."

Gwennit tightened her legs. "Not any more. You're lovely and large and fit just as you should. All of you. I love you as you are. I want you as you are."

Renathal looked at Theotar. "Am I hurting her?"

"No, my dearest prince. Look, she is pushing for more. Show our dowsabel how tender you can be."

Gwennit ground against Renathal. She sighed. "Stretch me. Fill me over and over with your beautiful cock. Enjoy me. Let me enjoy you."

Renathal pushed deeper. Gwennit sighed and kissed his neck. Renathal cupped the back of her head in Theotar's lap. His head pressed against Theotar's belly, and his hair fell around Gwennit, a veil to protect her from the world. She moaned as he drew back, and eased once more inside, her quim full and heavy, her whole body warm beneath him.

"A wonderful sight." Theotar rubbed the tip of Gwennit's ear. "My loves. My only loves. Oh, my darling husband, you are beautiful. Just as beautiful as when you lie with me."

"I promise," and Renathal's voice quivered as he took her, "you'll be happy here. With us. In Revendreth as it should be. We'll dance at the Verdant Court. You'll have all the children you could want, souls and dredgers both. I shall give you anything within my power. Only, stay."

"Stay with me. Both of you. That's all I need---"

Gwennit gasped. Her quim beat with her heart, her living heart, eager and never to stop. Breath coursed through her lungs despite Renathal atop her, his weight, his tender touch and slow thrusts. She kissed him, and he returned it, gentle and careful and needy. He sighed against her mouth.

"Firefly," he said. "A star in twilight. I've only ever known twilight, save the Light. The two of you show me what brilliance should be."

"She is growing nearer, my love," Theotar said. "Let her peak. See how powerful your gentleness makes you."

Renathal lifted his head. "You can really come this way? The lasses I knew before you so often wanted me to take them without restraint."

"Oh, yes. Theotar's done it many times."

"Should I not be rough any more?"

"I like rough, too." Gwennit drew him into a kiss, stroking his hair. "Right now, I want this. Just as we are."

"Sh-shall I come, too?"

"Only if you want. You like to wait."

"Not. Not always. But I do it anyway. When I can."

"You haven't got to wait. You never have to wait if you don't want to. Not with us. Not ever again."

Renathal shuddered. "Shh, my prince," Theotar said. "There have been enough tears today."

"I'm not---"

Gwennit wiped his cheek with her thumb. "Are you happy?"

"More than I deserve."

She hugged him. Renathal whimpered, and again when she said, "You deserve all happiness. You deserve all good things."

He shivered, and set once more to long, slow pushes deep inside her. Gwennit pressed her heels to his arse and welcomed him each time.

"My kind little dowsabel." Theotar stroked her ears. "And my prince, so in need of kindness we are happy to give."

Too soon, Gwennit squirmed against the pressure inside her. "Don't stop," she whispered. "Just like this. Please don't stop, my prince. My beautiful prince."

"Prințul nostru," Theotar said. "Prințul frumos nostru."

"Stop." Renathal's whisper broke, though he kept his pace. "It's too much."

"No, my love. You are our beautiful prince. The nobles may have hurt you with charming words meant to gain your favour, but we speak the truth, our dowsabel and I."

"Please don't stop." Gwennit panted, tightening under the softest of onslaughts. "Please, please don't---"

She cried out as she jolted. Renathal stared, never halting in his pace. Gwennit kissed him all around his mouth, muscles tightening, her breaths short and quick, and kept kissing him---

She arched, the world whiting as her quim jerked. Renathal groaned and put his face on Theotar's knee, but kept moving, kept pressing into her, carried her through her peak, drew it long and sweet like boiled sugar. She writhed, pulling him deeper with her legs. He shivered.

"Stop, Gwennit. Stop, or I'll---"

"Do you want to come, my prince?" Theotar said.

"Yes. Yes, but---"

"Then come. Take your pleasure. Let Gwennit love you fully."

"Please," Gwennit whispered, and Renathal ground against her, within her, pushing and keening and--and---

She whimpered as he groaned. A smaller peak shook her as he came, jerking inside her, a long, taut moment drawing longer with his choked cry. Gwennit stroked his back, her eyes closed, blood rushing in her head.

Renathal went limp atop her, panting. Seconds, and he pulled from her, went to his elbows and knees, cradled her face, kissed her again and again.

"Dowsabel," he said, and she shivered.

"Prințul meu. I'm sorry, I don't remember any more."

"Prințesa mea. Don't be sorry. Never be sorry."

He kissed her, or she kissed him, one of the two. He fell beside her, Gwennit in his arms. She stroked his back until their breathing settled.

There came a sniffle. Gwennit looked up. Theotar wiped his face with his hand. "Forgive me. My prince and my duchess are so very lovely together."

"Join us?" Renathal said.

"I do not wish to spoil the moment."

"Please." Gwennit took his hand and kissed it. Theotar sighed and snuggled against Renathal's back.

"Forgive me, dowsabel. Only, he has had an upset."

Gwennit smiled. She kissed Renathal, then Theotar. "Would you like another turn, my duke? Maybe a little rougher?"

"Ah, my little rabbit. It is a most fitting name. Later, I think. I am rather peckish."

Gwennit giggled. Renathal looked between them.

"What's a rabbit?"

Gwennit and Theotar looked at each other. They burst out laughing.

#

"You are incorrigible!" Mona swatted Mihaela, who had her pinned against the kitchen wall. A'shu, thank the Maw, had gone off to do whatever troll spirits did. "You got to eat something before you go back to Harvesting!"

Mihaela grinned. "Eat you?"

Mona rolled her eyes, but kissed her. "Later. I still need to tidy lunch, and I got an appointment this afternoon---"

The pub door opened. She sighed and pushed Mihaela off her. "Whoever you are, we only got a little lunch left, so if you're hungry, you better hurry! Blimey, I miss the old days."

"Mona, darling! We have someone for you to meet!"

Mihaela pecked Mona's cheek. "Hello, Theotar! Renathal, I'll have that report ready by tomorrow."

A groan. Mona glared and kissed her wife--her wife!--and went to hug Theotar and Renathal. Probably another of Theotar's brats. They kept getting worse, and he kept getting more, which meant the Accuser was really in a bind---

Just through the door, she stopped. A tiny venthyr woman in black stood between Theotar and Renathal, clutching their hands. All three had damp hair. Fresh clothes, save the woman. A new venthyr in need of a tailor.

Bloody fucking Maw, a venthyr who looked exactly like....

Theotar bowed, motioning to the woman. "Mona, allow us to introduce you to---"

"Dowsabel." Mona stumbled around the bar and yanked Gwennit into a hug. Gwennit grunted.

"How did you know?"

"I'd know you anywhere. Sire's mercy, you're alive!" She kissed Gwennit, who squeaked. Mona chuckled. "Goodness, it's definitely you!"

"Is this the little mortal who took our Renathal from us?" Mihaela leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. "Hello, Renathal. Enjoying yourself, are you?"

"I can demand that report today, you know."

Mihaela laughed. Mona spun Gwennit until they both broke down in giggles.

"Mona!" Gwennit said.

"Quiet, you. I got me dowsabel back! Oh, look at you! All venthyr! Oh, blimey, what these two do to your ears?"

Gwennit fingered one. "They're rabbit ears."

Renathal turned red and coughed. "Yes. Rabbits."

"Forgive him, my darling." Theotar kissed Mona, as he should have done sooner. "He has just learned what a rabbit is. And how they enjoy their relations."

"Hands-on, I expect. Oh, I see that blush, Renathal! You can't hide from Mona. Marn!"

He popped from under her skirt. "Yeah, boss?"

Mona hiked her skirts and kicked him right in his craggy little arse. "Your little pervert! What you doing in there?"

"A'shu tried to cook me."

Mona sighed. "I'll have a talk with him. Go, tell Kassir and Vasili they better make do with each other today. I got a lady who can glide now, and she owes me a dance."

"I'm afraid we get the first dance," Renathal said. "You're not the one who intends to wed her."

Theotar stared. "Truly, my prince?"

"Wed?" Gwennit drew her hands to her chest and squeaked.

"If you'll have us, my lady. Our dowsabel." Renathal knelt, good lad he was, but Theotar stared in two different directions, wavering on his feet. "Though, erm, perhaps we ought take a long engagement. Theotar? Are you all right, my love?"

"Perfectly," Theotar said as he swayed in place. Gwennit steadied him. He grinned.

Mihaela chuckled and elbowed Mona. "I'll be damned, that wretched book was right. The Lich Queen of Revendreth. Don't glare at me, Princess. Harvester, remember? And blue eyes? It's obvious. I still can't believe we're letting them keep their names now."

"It's a new Revendreth." Renathal brought Gwennit's hand to his lips. He beamed, eyes glowing, joy all but it flickering on his skin. It was the smile he wore at his wedding, and when he spoke of the new Verdant Ward. He lifted Theotar's hand, and said against his and Gwennit's knuckles, gazing at the both of them, "Revendreth as it always should have been."