---

He was entrusting more than his mind, Faeril noted with some amusement as she watched the man sit on the plush couch. His health was also at stake. Tapping into the power that channeled through her Red Jewel, the Black Widow drew off the glove that covered her hand. A precaution against anyone spying the snake-tooth that was common to those of her caste beneath her ring finger. A fang, or 'tooth', of poison that was as potent as the witch's jewel was dark. With a lighter jeweled witch it might not kill or take several doses over a period of time to kill, but with a darker jewel... It was so very deadly and painful. Pressing her ring finger to the man's forehead in warning she slipped pass his mental barriers.

It was irritating more than anything to find that his mind was a solid mass of walls and 'mirrors'. Fragmented memories, reflections on what was missing or what could have been taken out of context. Withdrawing the Black Widow moved to a cabinet and withdrew a spindle of spider silk thread and a circular wooden loom used for embroidery. It wasn't the traditional tool, but for now it would do. Settling herself comfortable before the Dea Al Mon male agian, the Ashkevron woman began to weave. Her fingers tracing the spell and the lines that she drew within his mind. Slowly connecting piece to piece and uncovering that whoever had done this in the first place had no business at their Craft. The work was shoddy and Faeril sneered in disgust at the roughness that left tattered edges about memories. The pieces frail and unraveling. Yet all could not be blamed on a mediocre workmanship. For the male also seemed to want to reject these memories. These bits and pieces.

Well, that wouldn't do at all. Faeril thought as she slowly gathered them in her net. Turning over and examining each bit before setting it aside. Organizing what came first and then second. She couldn't quite tell who the woman who was so special was, nor what had caused the pain that brought tears to her eyes. It was like seeing something in a shattered mirror. Abstract, yet if viewed the right way it would make sense. The fragile chalice of the man's mind could be pieced together but the true healing would come from within. Bit by bit the woman strung together the larger bits. Adding a few smaller bits and pieces. These were recent or big events in the man's life. Slowly she withdrew from his inner barriers within his mind to the outer as she wove a final spell. A spell that would dull the pain, not destroy it but dull it. As if it was someone else's life, but each time he thought harder on it that life would become more and more real.

Sweat poured from her as Faeril set the wooden frame and the knot of thread aside with shaking hands. This would take more than one session and she had already strained the Red Jewel enough. A quick glance told her it had been roughly a good bit since they had sat down. An hour if not more. "There. You will require more than one session to piece together your memories so I can erase them but it will come about to that final step eventually." The woman's voice was harsh as subtly Vanished the Red Jewel into the hidden pocket dimension that the Blood considered a cabinet of sorts, and called in her Blood Opal. The two were alike enough it would take a trained eye to pin point the difference.

@eclecticwitch Denar appeared with a stern and annoyed expression on his face as Fatima opened the door, looking a good deal peeved that he had not been called to be of assistance. Bristling and spreading those long wings slightly, the man grips his hands about the Grey Jeweled Queen's waist and hoisted her up to sit her off to the side. "Lady." He greeted polietly as he studied the new comers. His expression of grim distaste becoming one of interest and glee as he lumbered out of the eryie like a oversized puppy, knocking Artemis and Vaclav aside. His hands gripping the old woman as he spun her about slowly. "Mother!" The warrior cried in delight. "You have been eating?" He questioned as he set her down, looking worriedly at the broken witch. His gaze shifting between her and the two strangers as Denar slowly shifted himself to a defensive posture.

---

---

It took some time for Mikhail to force himself to calm down. Old habits die hard and due to the mental exhaustion, he was more paranoid than ever. The fact that Mikhail himself knew how dangerous Black Widows were didn't make it easier. When he finally was able to though, almost as if she was just waiting for him to become comfortable, Mikhail felt her finger touching his forehead, a signal that the process was starting. Despite that, Mikhail couldn't help but to feel weird as her skin touched his. It was a... weird sensation... To have another one touch his skin so delicately like that. A sensation that he had almost forgotten... But together with that strange, but rather pleasant sensation, also came flashes from memories that weren't his anymore... Happiness, love and then an agonizing sadness...

"Memories from a life long past. A life that is not mine anymore." Mikhail thought to himself, warding off those unpleasant fragments, concentrating solely on the treatment that was about to begin.

As he heard the black widow calmly walking, her steps echoing through the room as she opened the cabinet he couldn't help but wonder if he was finally going to be free from those memories. Resuming her work, Mikhail could feel her carefully gathering the fragments on his mind and examining one by one, almost if trying to complete a terribly complex puzzle. Almost as if watching memories from an entirely different person, Mikhail watched as the fragments started making a bit more sense. He saw a woman... Someone that was clearly special to him, he saw more than just friendship, he saw love, pure and genuine. But suddenly, the love and happiness on her eyes turned to pain and sadness... An agonizing, almost painful sadness... Together with those, anger, rage and betrayal...

Unlike the other times though, this time it was different than when he saw those fragments on nightmares... They were clear, he could see them without feeling so many different emotions and without feeling involved with them. It was much easier to analyze them. But as he started to do so, he felt a sharp tug on his heart when he thought about the woman and remembered the how it felt when Faeril touched his forehead... What was that...? Pain...? Sadness...? He could feel those feelings wrapping themselves around his mind... The memories becoming more real the more he thought about them. The feeling he had lost something important, that he had lost a part of himself...

"NO!... no... I'm not that person anymore... Those memories... that life... is not mine." Mikhail thought to himself, immediately forcing himself to reject those feelings.

Faeril's harsh voice interrupted his thoughts, forcing him to open his eyes and forget about the memories and the woman he saw there. When he looked to Faeril, it became obvious that quite some time had passed since they began the session. Not only Faeril herself was sweating, but Mikhail also was. The memories, flashes and the feelings he had felt a second back were distant in his memory... Dull... Almost as if they were someone else's. Mikhail knew better than to try and think about them once more. He assumed that was thanks to something Faeril did.

"I see. I will be in your hands until then. I trust you and your abilities." Mikhail said with a slight bow, replying to her.

She could have killed Mikhail, she could have altered his memories but she didn't. Mikhail took a leap of faith when he decided to trust her and she didn't disappoint him. The last words he said, about him trusting her were a clear signal of that.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Vaclav bowed before the woman who opened the door while simultaneously looking her over. He wondered who this was person was since this was not who he had envisioned would open the door. Her short stature and winglessness led him to assume she wasn’t the rumoured infamous black widow who resided in at house. But then who was she and why was she allowed to open the door?

However, despite his questions, Vaclav couldn’t help but smile back. “We were just stopping by. The innkeeper asked us to escort ‘Granmother’ ” he nodded to the old broken witch standing next to Artemis, “to this location.” He was about to further explain himself when a Warlord Prince appeared at the door and pushed him aside upon seeing the old Eyrien.

Vaclav raised his eyebrow as the Warlord Prince spun the woman around, exclaiming that she was his mother. This was also not what he was expecting to happen either; he had assume the woman was related to the Black Widow somehow not a Warlord Prince residing at this location. Nonetheless, he was happy that they were once reunited.
“She’s been eating well.” Vaclav responded for the old Eyrien. He tried to keep his tone even, sensing the tension in the air. “We were tasked to bring her here.”


Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Artemis smiled warmly at the old Eyrien woman. Throughout their trip, she was listening to the old woman speak mumblings and tried to reply appropriately, feeling like the old woman hadn’t spoken to anyone in a while. Leading the Eyrien up the final steps of stairs, Artemis waited next to her for the door to open.

When the door did eventually open, Artemis smiled at the woman. Although she was expecting another Eyrien to open the door, Artemis could appreciate the warm demeanor that the short woman exuded. However, like Vaclav, she was not expecting to be pushed out of the way by a Warlord Prince as he made his way towards his mother. It made her smile, but also worrisome when the Prince turned to her and Vaclav in a defensive manner. She remained silent though, trusting her friend to clarify things.

Per the new member of the Court's nod, she looked around him to find an old woman standing next to a dirty, but a lovely young lady with the same shocking white hair. Were they siblings? She turned her gaze back up to the man before her and opened her lips to make some sort of reply when a pair of strong hands grasped her waist. She was lifted as easily as a bundle of twigs and set off to the side. "Excuse me," she said as she was moved, wiggling a bit to get out of the grasp. She heard the man call her lady and knew it was one of Faeril's boys.

She turned to find her suspicions confirmed as the Warlord Prince glared down at the white-haired man. She made a tsking sound with her tongue and was about to relay her suspicions about this man being a member of her court when Denar's appearance changed from challenging to elated. Fatima moved back to the opening in the door to find him as gleeful as a child, swinging the woman he called mother about. She winced, worried the old Eyrien would break in half.

It seemed she was safe in his arms though and so her worry subsided. "Well, I suppose this is a warm enough welcome as any. Would you like to come in for some coffee and breakfast? I believe I have made enough for everyone." She gestured them in, stepping back so that they could do so. She did not wait long to see if they would enter and bustled into the kitchen to begin preparing plates and mugs of deep, dark coffee for the group.

---

The Eyrien woman nodded absently to Mikhail's words her cold blue gaze moving over to study the wooden frame that held the physical web she had woven to mimic the mental strands of power that crossed about Mikhail's inner barriers. Hooking memories and drawing them to the surface and binding fast those she had already placed in their proper position. Tsking her tongue against her teeth in disapproval of the foolish journey-woman who had done the rough shod work in the first place Faeril stood. Her head beginning to swim under the strain of overreaching her limits. "It was merely basic." She murmured slightly carefully wrapping the web in a bundle of silk. Absently wondering if she could fake being fine long enough to get him out of the room. Or would it be worse for him to leave and her brother-in-arms to find her collapsed of exhaustion? Either way was going to be trouble with overbearing males.

It was the way the Blood worked after all. The Black Widow-Healer noted with some amusement. The Blood were the ruling caste but also the caretakers of the Realms. The males protected and served the distaff gender due to the latter's connection to the land. Though they did a bit more than that before Hayll twisted the rules of Protocol. Males had a extremely bossy nature when a witch of the family was weak or doing something the males were strongly against. Also, if the males were doing something they deemed in the witchs' best interest. Stubbornly the Warlord Princes were the worse and had a good Warlord Prince had a habit of digging in his heels and marching in the other direction. Coddling, irritating males. Oh, they 'served'. They served the way it suited them, and they would yield to reason. But other than that it was a furious dance of power.

Of the rank of jewel they wore. Then finally of caste. While she was a Red Jeweled Witch, she her caste nor jewel was stronger than Fatima. The fact this was her home ground gave Faeril the leverage she needed. While on the other hand the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince who had showed up outranked Fatima despite her being a Queen. As he belonged to her Court he didn't officially outrank her. He would protect and serve her and while they had the formidable power on their side. It still made Faeril uneasy. The Ebon-Grey was the strongest of the Jewels, the only one stronger being the Black.

And only one wore the Black. Setting the silk bundle on a shelf one of the cabinets, Faeril considered the rug over the stone floor. It seemed to swirl and twirl with colors. A welcoming daze came over her and that was the last thing Faeril remember as she dropped like a stone. Fainting from exhaustion. Awake all the night weaving her webs, only to push herself more this morning... She had not had a chance to rest since Fatima had come to her door in Denar's arms. Mikhail would see the Eyrien woman drop the bundle safely on a shelf.

@nohbdies @eclecticwitch "I have been eating. Eggs, many eggs. All of them cluck and gobble." The woman assured the large man as he hovered over the woman who had birthed him as he shooed her into the house.

A second Eyrien appeared in the doorway looking mirror the first with a sharp eye on Vaclav and Artemis. Belor frowned as looked at Fatima with a raised eyebrow. He was shirtless and a warblade rested in one hand. Though he was a light jeweled Warlord Prince, he was still a Warlord Prince and these were strangers on his territory. Though his words were to the two Dhemlans. "Thank you for escorting Mother. Thought Faeril told you she's string you up by your heels if you invited anyone else?" The last bit inquired to the Grey Queen as he waited to close the door after the other two. Apparently this Queen was going to be a handful which would make Faeril a headache...

Hunting out in the far reaches of Askavi didn't seem like a bad idea.

Fatima came out of the kitchen, apron resituated over her form and two large mugs of steaming coffee in her hand. One she pushed into Denar's hands. The other was offered to Belor. She smiled playfully up at the Eyrien. "I do believe she said to go ahead and invite these people in since I was so kind as to be inviting guests into her home already." Her tone and inflection implied she knew she had done wrong and was prepared for the consequences. But that she also took this in stride and with lightheartedness for Fatima was simply what she was. Young. "Besides. One of them is mine. I will weather the storm later." It would likely do her some good to have some chastising. Not to mention, the hurt that could come from it would mean a well-weeded garden. Her hands were itching for some earthly work. "Thank you for your concern. Breakfast is hot and in the kitchen." Fatima relinquished the cup to him before ushering to white-haired pair into the kitchen as well.

Fatima gestured toward seats at the table as she began to uncover hot plates of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. She placed a plate before each person, including mother. The two Warlord Princes received plates overflowing with the simple breakfast. Fatima mostly ignored her own plate as she set about cooking and ensuring more breakfast for Mikhail and Faeril. Maybe seconds for anyone who needed it. She was not entirely sure about the strengths of her two new companions and wanted to make sure that the troupe would not go hungry. Just where were Faeril and Mikhail anyhow? Shouldn't they be done with their session about now? Shouldn't her ears be getting blistered off by Faeril's seething rage?

---

---

Even though Mikhail already knew what Black Widows were capable of, it was the first time he saw one working as Faeril did as she headed over to the wooden frame, carefully studying the web she had woven mimicking Mikhail's memories. It was undeniably beautiful, yet he knew very well how powerful that was. After all... To be a healer means not only knowing how to heal, but consequently, also knowing how to kill. That holds true for both healers of the body and the mind. In a way... her web somehow was similar to Mikhail's wires. Delicate and beautiful, yet incredibly lethal. The way her fingers carefully moved, weaving and working... The same way Mikhail's hands moved when preparing an ambush, a trap or simply moving his wires.

Despite the session being already over, Mikhail choose to stay for a bit longer as he observed in silence Faeril carefully working and wrapping the web in a bundle after she was done. Despite her technique and precision, Mikhail could hear on her voice that she was exhausted. Before he could say or do anything though, Faeril dropped like a stone, unconscious as she safely dropped the bundle on the shelf.

The second she started to fall, Mikhail dashed towards, gently catching her before she hit the ground. While her pulse and respiration were still ok, it was obvious that she had surpassed her limits and was incredibly exhausted. On that situation, still holding Faeril on his arms, Mikhail thought about what to do. If he was alone with Faeril and Fatima on that house, it would be much easier, but that wasn't the case. The other males on that house would obviously not like that situation. After a brief moment considering his options, Mikhail turned towards the comfortable bed, the same one he used during the session and gently putting Faeril on it, heading towards the door soon after.

Mikhail walked down the stairs carefully watching his surroundings. It would be incredibly good if the other males were still asleep but that wouldn't happen. He didn't know what would be their reactions when they saw him coming down without Faeril. Counting on Fatima also didn't seem to be that much of a good idea. Despite the woman's sweetness, it was clear that the one who was the owner of that house was Faeril... Finally arriving on the kitchen, Mikhail saw Fatima getting out of it, wearing an apron and with two mugs of hot coffee on her hands. Above the table, the breakfast was carefully prepared, the same Fatima herself had offered to him earlier. Unlike before though, she wasn't alone. She was accompanied by a disturbing number of unknown faces. Upon seeing Fatima with such a warm smile on her face, Mikhail's eyes softened up a bit, but the second he saw the others, his eyes became as cold as they usually were. Piercing eyes that saw through everything. Despite his calm posture, he carefully analyzed the situation, watching for every and any strange movement from the other males that were present. Especially the one with a warblade on his hands.

"Once again, I thank you for the hospitality and the warm welcome, Fatima." Mikhail said with a small bow and a discreet, but calm and kind smile towards the woman, soon disappearing the second his eyes left her and went to the other warlord prince wielding a blade and the other males currently present.

"Faeril was incredibly exhausted after the session though and fell asleep. I assumed it would be ok to leave her in the bed she used for the session." Mikhail continued, explaining.

"She is currently sleeping on her workroom." he finished, still carefully watching the males' reactions and every movement.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Vaclav tensed further when another warlord prince showed up at the doorstep, warblade in one hand. Despite the Eyrien not showing any hostilities towards Artemis or him, Vaclav did not enjoy being outnumbered in case anything were to happen. “Out pleasure,” he responded. “I’m glad she could come home safely.” He silently worndered who this Faeril was as the prince talked to the woman who opened the door for him. Was she the keeper of the house- the true black widow who was rumored to reside here?

So who was the person who opened the door? Vaclav assessed Fatima further, eyes glazing at her without trying to stare. He felt a strange pull to her, telling him to accept her offer of breakfast. However, despite his curiosity, Vaclav needed to move along so he could get Artemis safe. He didn’t mind doing a favor, but they already had wasted the morning away. “Thank you for the offer-"

As he was ready to excuse himself, Artemis cut him off. “We would love to join for coffee and dinner.” She could tell that Vaclav wanted to leave and go off to wherever was safe, but she didn’t think that a quick break would do them any harm. The woman who greeted them at the door seemed friendly enough. She was also sure that despite how intimidating the two warlord princes looked, they would did not mean any harm. She also felt it rude for them to turn down an offer.

Vaclav met her eyes as she cut him off, surprise. Artemis smile back at him and simply shook his head. Even though they didn’t have any verbal conversation, the two knew each other well enough to understand what each did not want to say in front of strangers. Vaclav's raised eyebrow inquired Artemis about her decision while her head shake told him that she felt that there was no detriment to them staying for a bit. When his eyes narrowed with reluctance, Artemis grabbed his arm and pulled him to the door.

This led to Vaclav rolling his eyes, acquiescing to his friend’s decision. He didn’t want to argue with Artemis and would seem rude when she already agreed to breakfast so he followed her as the two were led into the kitchen, sitting down next to her.

---

The two Eyriens had escorted their mother into the dinning room to make sure the woman was eating well. Belor vanishing his war blade as he tucked his wings tightly to his frame lest he accidently bump something off the table. While that wasn't likely, the Warlord Prince didn't want their resident Healer and Black Widow going for his throat. They had been friends since Fae had turned up dragged along by a joyous Gen who proclaimed her his. Nevermind that even back when they were young that Gen showed more interest in boys than girls. She was his and she had agreed that he was hers. A slight smirk graced Belor's lips as he remembered their protests and their mother's insistence that, as they had claimed her, Fae did have a say in things now too. Their families had grown close and when the Old Queen and Fae's Black Widow aunt died, the brothers had risen to the killing edge to help their friend and family met out the proper punishment.

So when a stranger appeared within the eryie looking like a predator despite the fact he was merely a Prince, Denar and Belor's attention shifted from doting over their mother to the strange male. Both were a step away from the killing edge even though they wore lighter jewels than most in the room. That was what held them back from drawing blades as they glanced to Fatima, waiting her decision. Belor shifting his form to cover the exit out of the kitchen and Denar moving to flank their mother and future Queen. Though they didn't feel the pull that Faeril's Mother had discribed to them back when they had been learning Protocol, they didn't exactly care. If this Queen had Faeril's support then she had theirs.

"You speak familiarly with the Queen." Belor rumbled deeply with narrowing eyes, as he flexed his hand as if testing to see if he could grip that massive blade he had again. "What do you mean 'bed used for the session'?" Denar demanded sharply as he bristled as well. "Lady, I find it hard to believe that Healer Faeril Ashkevron would be so exhausted." Belor nodded his head slowly.

The mood of the room was palpable. She could feel things turning more and more sour. Breakfast served and the men in a state of disarray. Without their master and commander, so to speak, everyone was dancing on the edge of a knife. Things finally came to a crossroads when Mikhail re-appeared. He had a warm smile for her. His face becoming something nearly handsome but then the sight of the others brought him back to the ice he held around his heart.

His words sent the energies around her into a chaotic swirl. She set aside the cast iron skillet which had the half-done makings of a pancake within it. It would burn but at this moment it was not her concern. She was a Queen. Not a practiced one to be sure, but she was one. Her grey slowly seeped from her, pushing down and quelling others as she prepared to speak. Her psychic energy created a cloud of calm about her. She did not turn from the stove. Instead, she busied herself with ensuring that the breakfast would not go to waste. Placing a cover over Faeril's plate, finishing up final cups of coffee, and turning off units of flame.

The room was quieted, only the ring of the boy's speaking their piece pierced her cloud. Finally, Fatima turned from the stove and looked over all the people in the room. Her green eyes searching faces as the silence lingered much too long. "He is mine and he will speak to me as he likes until I say it is wrong," she began. Her words were firm, her chin tilted upward as she surveyed the kingdom of kitchen.

"And do you not think our dear benefactor would be tired? How many has she healed?" Her moss hues studied each of the boys. "When was the last time she has worked this hard?" Each Eryien, protectors of the Black Widow, were shockingly naive at the way consumption of power could drain a woman. "I had hoped she might ask for help, but it seems our lovely lady of the house has deigned to drain herself." A wry smile came to her lips as she looked over the Eryien men who had made themselves Faeril's protectors. "How very like a lady. She has things to curse at me about, as you know. However, it is high time someone gave her a stopping point too."

Fatima moved from the stove and gently placed her had on Mikhail's arm. "Lead me to her, please." A small, nervous smile and then she looked back at the men who teetered on the edge. Her features held her determination to not let this situation become a bloodbath. "Belor, would you come with me? I believe you are more practiced at dealing with how she will spit and hiss.” Playfulness edged her tone, but she wished Lucivar was there. Having his power to back her own would make her feel even a little bit more confident.

She left the room with Belor in tow and Mikhail leading the way to the room of secrets. How she would have liked to dig and snoop into the Black Widow’s cabinets. Unfortunately, there would be no time. There, on the bed, as promised, was the sleeping form of Faeril. Fatima, ignoring the men at this point, pulled a stool close to the bed and sat down next to it. Whether they entered or not was of no concern to her. Now she would focus on her patient. The Healer Queen gently smoothed back the hair from Faeril's face. Her first step was to reach in and feel what ached. She had dwindled herself down, in Fatima’s opinion, quite dangerously.

Fatima sighed and looked up toward the ceiling, closing her eyes. Her breaths were slow and steady. In. Out. In. Out. She prepared herself before placing her hands at Faeril's stomach. Her first job was to relieve these tired muscles of aches and pains. Her fingers phased into the woman and processed the emptiness of her stomach and the tiredness of muscles. It would take time as the young healer began the process of helping an overly worn body relax.

---

---

As Mikhail's experienced eyes scanned the room, the tension became even more apparent as the two Eyrien warriors immediately reacted with hostility to his mere presence, both tensing their muscles and assuming a threatening posture. Mikhail's eyes were as cold as always even as they doubted his words. He simply stood there in silence despite their questions, quietly observing their movements. He wanted to avoid any unnecessary conflict, but if things got serious, Mikhail wouldn't hold back. As an assassin, he should know more than anyone else to never underestimate one's opponents. Never hesitate and never hold back. A single second of hesitation often meant the difference between life and death.

The tension in the room was palpable. The smell of burning pancakes, the bloodlust and the silence made it even worse. It was clear that both warriors were only a hair's breadth away from the killing edge.
Much to everyone's luck though, they still had some respect for Fatima and the old woman who had just arrived with the white haired woman and her escort, holding themselves instead of just attacking Mikhail.

After a long silence, Fatima was the first to speak something, although the words that came out of her mouth surprised Mikhail.

"He is mine and he will speak to me as he likes until I say it is wrong," her words repeated on his head. It was undeniable that she was a good and kind woman, but still, as she mentioned that he was 'hers' Mikhail couldn't help but to think on the implications of that single word.

As she continued speaking with the Eyriens, Mikhail simply observed in silence. Despite the difficult situation, Fatima was able to disarm what was almost a time bomb. Walking over to where Mikhail was, she gently placed her hands on his shoulder, asking for him to lead her to Faeril. As she looked to Mikhail after saying those words, he realized how nervous she was.

"As you wish." Mikhail said after she asked one of the Eyriens to go with her. Belor was his name.

Despite leading both of them to the room he was just a few seconds ago, Mikhail didn't take his eyes off the Eyrien male not even for a second. Despite his almost imperceptible way of looking back, his cold stare felt almost real. It was indeed unnerving. To a certain extent, one would be able to understand that others would feel threatened when receiving such a stare.

Finally arriving on the room, Mikhail opened the door, standing aside and opening way to both Fatima and Belor, letting them go in first.
Just as he promised, Faeril was peacefully sleeping over the bed. Her exhaustion was as clear as the day. Once more, Mikhail stood still, in silence, near the door as Fatima went nearby Faeril's sleeping body, pulling a stool and sitting nearby her as she began the process of healing the exhausted Black Widow.

"As I said previously, she is exhausted. Her vital signals, albeit a bit weaker than they should, are still stable." Mikhail said.

He was a guest, and neither Faeril nor any other inside that house were his targets. He didn't have any reason to kill or harm the only black widow that could possibly treat his condition and was trustworthy. Anyone who doubted his intentions needed only to think a little. Her death was the last thing Mikhail would want right now.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Artemis could feel the tension in the room increase as another male entered the room. Clearly, he was a stranger to the two Warlord Princes who viscerally took defensive positions upon hearing him speak. She could not help but instinctively move closer to Vaclav as a result of their actions, in case anything was to happen. Artemis could sense as the two Eyriens rose close to a killing edge and while she wanted to caste a calming spell to quell the palpable tension, she refrained. She herself didn’t like it when those she did not know caste spells in her house and she assumed that whomever this Faeril was the same. Also, she did not want to tip the precarious balance in the room by using any magic.

With the room in such an antagonistic state, Artemis hoped that Fatima would stop cooking to address it since it seemed like the warriors still had a modicum amount of control to wait for a decision from her as to how to proceed. When the Queen finally did turn around, the words she spoke were not at all what Artemis was expecting. Nonetheless, Artemis breathed a sigh of relief as Fatima diffused the situation.

The woman did have a point. Being a healer herself, Artemis understood how much energy it took to heal others. If Faeril was working herself too hard, then it wouldn’t surprise Artemis that the black widow had feinted. Artemis had had dizzy spells after healing for too long, but Vaclav would always stop her before she could completely pass out from exhaustion.

When Fatima asked the stranger to lead her to the healer, Artemis got up to follow, avoiding Vaclav’s hand as he went to stop her. She wanted to meet this woman, whom Vaclav briefly spoke about, as well as see if she could be of any help. Upon entering the room, Artemis looked around, intrigued by the healing room before laying her eyes on the unconscious healer. “I can help if you would like…” she said hesitantly to Fatima as she watched the Queen heal.



Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Vaclav was beginning to relax in his seat until a new person entered the room. He glanced at the stranger’s appearance. He was tall with light skin and blue eyes which made Vaclav wonder where he was from. His first thought was the man could be a Challiot but his pointed ears made Vaclav wonder if he was a Dea al Mon, “children of the woods” as they were called.

He would have love to continue his analysis, but the newcomer’s words seemed to alarm the two Eyriens enough that they were quickly rising to a killing edge. Anxious, Vaclav slid his hand towards his dagger, anticipating the worst. He sat up a bit straighter, eyes darting back and forth between the three men, especially the one who was covering the exit out of the kitchen. Thankfully, it seemed like the Eyriens were waiting for Fatima before reacting.

When Fatima turned around to address the situation, Vaclav had to hold in a smile as she scolded the two for overreacting to the news that the Black Widow would be tired after extensively healing people. After being with Artemis for so long, he had witness a few of these feinting spells himself, despite trying to stop his friend from healing before she could reach that point.

Vaclav then thought back to the first sentence the Queen had uttered: "He is mine and he will speak to me as he likes until I say it is wrong," It quite surprised him when Fatima said those words since that was not what he was expecting her to say to diffuse the situation. It confused him even more as to what the relationships in this house were. Lost in thought, Vaclav failed to notice Artemis getting up from where she sat to follow the group. When he did notice the movement out of the corner of his eye, he tried to stop her to no avail.

Sighing, Vaclav abstained from following her, feeling that his presence might cause another scene. Instead, he stood to pick up the skillet housing the now burnt pancake. Vaclav dumped the pancake into the trash; its smell was making his nose crinkle.

---

The set of Eyrien Warlord Princes hesitated as Fatima laid the Queen's claim to the man. That he was hers made them pause, that they may cross the Queen and thus Faeril? Made them take that step away from the killing edge. Faeril would never forgive them if they insulted the Hayllian woman enough that she would leave. Rustling their wings, the brothers exchanged looks as the Queen declared that Belor would join her. The Warlord Prince nodded slightly and trailed after the two strangers, pausing just in the doorway. Effectively blocking the exit. Gen wouldn't forgive his brothers if they didn't keep track of their friend and all these people. Forget Gen! Fae would throw a hissy-fit when she found more strangers in her house.

Fatima would find that Faeril's pulse was indeed weakened and that reviving her would do little good, it would be better than to just to let the Healer and Black Widow rest. Something Artemis would also come to realize if she examined the Eyrien woman. Vaclav would note that while the others had moved off to observe the collapsed woman, Denar had remained behind. Not quite observing the Warlord but not leaving him alone. Quietly nursing a mug of coffee, as he tried to look unobtrusive.

Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Before waiting for a response Artemis went ahead and slowly came up to the Black Widow. She tried hiding her nervousness as much as she could to not spook Belor. He was blocking the exit and she doubted anyone would leave this room alive if they provoked him into thinking they were going to harm to Faeril. The tension was bad enough when the Warlord Prince was on the killing edge in the kitchen; she did not want to provoke that atmosphere again.

Artemis glanced at the feinted Black Widow, frowning. She looked pale from exhaustion and after checking her pulse, Artemis found it slower than it should be. On further examination, Artemis figured there wasn’t much to be done in terms of healing. Sure she could heal injuries and sicknesses but this was just exhaustion. They should let the Black Widow rest and when she woke up, make her some tea or something. “We should just let her rest,” Artemis suggested. “She needs some food and water when wakes up.”



Ashkevron Residence in Askavi:

Vaclav was not fooled into believing that the other Eyrien stayed in the kitchen because he wanted to be hospitable. He was keenly aware of being watched as he rinsed the soot off the pan and washed it before it was ruined. After he finished, Vaclav poured himself another coffee, adding in some cream and sugar after.

He sat back down and began eating the food Fatima had made. The pancakes were simply delicious as Vaclav was quite hungry from the trip here while the coffee helped to keep his energy up. As he ate, he also glanced over at the other Warlord Prince, sizing him up. Eventually though, Vaclav got tired of the silence. “So tell me, how did your mother end up at a small inn in western Askavi?”

He belatedly wondered how the other were doing. There seemed to not be any commotion coming from the other part of the house that they wander towards, so he assumed that Belor had confirmed that the Black Widow had simply passed out from exhaustion. If not, Vaclav was ready to dash out of this kitchen to get Artemis.

The question and following statement pulled her out of her trance. Fatima's eyelids fluttered as she adjusted back to the real world rather than one made of bone, vein, and sinew. She came to realize that the young white-haired woman had followed them down the hall. Of course, she has said she would like to help, hadn't she?

Fatima's sat back and eyed the girl. "I don't believe I ever caught your name," she said thoughtfully. "You are right, of course." She smiled brilliantly as she stood from her stool. "Nothing quite like waking up with completely relaxed muscles though." She winked before standing and stretching. "If you'd like we can go make a restorative brew for when she is a bit more coherent. I'm sure we'll find all we need in the kitchen or in my own stores."

Approaching Belor she said, "Stay if you wish. She'll be very boring to watch though." She patted his arm lightly before turning to Mikhail. She threaded her fingers with his. "Would you like to join us? You can tell me all about yourself!"

---

---

Mikhail simply watched in silence as Fatima checked Faeril's vital signs followed shortly by the white haired girl he had seen down on the kitchen, whom had followed them despite the tense atmosphere. There was simply nothing more to say, Mikhail had already told them everything he needed to say. Seeing Faeril sleeping and checking her pulse themselves should be enough for them to stop with the hostile behavior. Of course, that wouldn't mean that Mikhail would drop his guard near the other warriors and he was sure they would do the same but still... It was better than them just openly demonstrating their hostility and making everyone tense...

After Fatima invited the white haired woman to make a restorative brew for Faeril when she woke up, she walked towards Mikhail, threading her fingers with his and asking if he wanted to join them, with that same warm and kind smile. The second she touched him, albeit it was almost imperceptible, if she was paying close attention, she would see Mikhail's muscles tensing up a bit before relaxing again, almost as if it was a combat reflex. Everything regarding Mikhail, upon close inspection seemed to resume to killing and keeping himself alive... Which many times, were the exact same thing.

"It's rare to meet someone who would treat a complete stranger so well and with the kindness you do, Fatima, But I don't know if my presence will be... tolerated for much longer." he said, clearly referring to the warriors from a moment ago.

"About myself..." Mikhail repeated Fatima's words, thinking a bit.

"Almost everything that there is to be known about myself isn't exactly... pleasant to hear. But if you are ok with a superficial explanation, there are still a few good things." he finished, with a somewhat distant, but warm smile.

---

In the kitchen Denar considered the odd looking man. He was one of the long lived races with those gold eyes, meaning that his actual age would be in question. If anything, Denar would guess him to be young, not quite in his prime yet but a fighter none the less. As a protected and escort of a Healer he would be. Though despite the fact he was supposed to be on guard duty the Eyrien warrior relaxed slightly as Vaclav ate. Though he was dubious of pancakes for breakfast, preferring sausage or any real meat in general. Steak would be wonderful, yet he was nor brave enough to step into the pantry and risk Gen's wrath if, and when, he was found out. Swirling the coffee a bit as the Warlord questioned about the old woman, who was currently sitting in the palor trying to knit under Denar's gaze when he wasn't paying close attention to the Warlord, Denar hesitated slightly before answering.

"The simple terms is the fact that Mother needs a Healer around often. She was not as old as you would think, but the loss of her two friends- relatives of the Healer here- was hard on her and our father was harder when they were together." He rustled his wings slightly in agitation of the mention of the bastard. "It aged her and not for the better. So, Faeril did what she could but there are limits." The man shrugged not looking like he was going to go into more detail than that. It wasn't his secret to share after all and he wasn't sure about trusting these strangers that much yet.

Belar tucked his wings tightly to allow Artemis to pass. While he didn't like it, he knew better than to interfere with Healers. It was the quickest way to find yourself missing pieces, or that was what Faeril had always threatened. Relieved that Gen at least was sleeping in and getting some much needed rest, he leaned agianst the stone of the door frame. The eyrie itself resembled a series of caverns that had been shaped to rooms. Stepping into the room to allow the Queen and other Healer by he narrowed his eyes at the stranger his friend had been helping. While he knew it was common for Faeril to over do it, he couldn't help the protective instincts of the Warlord Prince that he was. "Lady Fatima." Belar corrected with a firmness to his voice when Mikhail addressed the Queen. He wasn't really one to care, but the last thing they needed when Faeril woke up was a explosion of the Black Widow giving someone the dressing down. Though considering the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince... That might just happen anyways. Somewhere in the eyrie a clock striked ten in the morn.

"Artemis, lovely name. I think it suits you," she said softly and with all the warmth of glowing embers. "I would be pleased to have your company. Some say too many cooks in the kitchen and all that, but I think a restorative brew could use good and happy energy from those with good intentions." She spoke this as she had joined Mikhail at the door.

"It's rare to meet someone who would treat a complete stranger so well and with the kindness you do, Fatima, But I don't know if my presence will be... tolerated for much longer." he said, and there was a hint of unease in his voice. She frowned sympathetically but did not speak just yet. He had more to say and she listened intently.

"About myself..." Some hesitation. Fatima thought that perhaps it would take some time for this man to open up to her. It saddened her to know that he had covered himself completely in ice. What life he must have lived before she found him. She swore to herself that she would give him reason to wake up with a smile every day. "Almost everything that there is to be known about myself isn't exactly... pleasant to hear. But if you are ok with a superficial explanation, there are still a few good things."

His smiled warmed away the sadness that had crept into her expression. She returned the smile, white teeth flashing momentarily. Her good feelings were dampened by one of the Eyrien brothers. Belar corrected Mikhail with, "Lady Fatima." The young woman wrinkled her nose at Belar but said nothing. There was only so much propriety she could fight in one day and everyone was feeling a bit off what with so many strangers in the house. Not to mention their protector down for the count. How she wished Lucivar would wake. He would make her feel so much better. Not the three Eyrien men though, it might cause more tension so perhaps it was for the best he kept to himself. She prayed that he hadn't abandoned her. He very well could have stolen away in the night. But something inside of her told her he had not. For now, she had Mikhail though, and she squeezed his hand kindly as she returned her attention to him. Fatima was sure he would keep her safe.

"I think, in this day and age everyone has a sad, ugly story to tell. I don't mind it at all, I want to hear all about you. And if you would prefer to talk about it in private I am happy to oblige. I just want to get to know all of my..." She paused, unsure about how he would handle knowing he was a part of her court. Perhaps not yet. He knew something was happening, as she did. But maybe he wasn't ready just yet. "All of my friends," she finally finished. "And I'd be pleased to tell you about myself too... Are you coming Artemis?" She began to walk toward the kitchen, threading her arm through Mikhail's as was the proper way to walk, her hand resting lightly at the crook of his elbow. "It has been such a busy morning, have you eaten yet?"

---

---

Despite the misunderstanding already being solved, the atmosphere was still really tense. Mikhail's words to Fatima were showing to be more accurate by the second. But despite all that, under all that heavy atmosphere, Fatima's kind and honest smile was still a bright light amongst all the darkness that seemed to always surround him wherever he went. For a second, Mikhail almost forgot all the situation that was happening when Fatima smiled back to him, but Belor's voice made him clear his head once more as he corrected him, insisting him to not call Fatima just by her name. Even Fatima herself didn't exactly agree with Belor as it was shown clearly by her expression.

Without saying a word, Mikhail looked straight to Belor's eyes with a penetrating, ice cold stare. Even without actually saying a single word, that single stare was worth for thousand of words. Castes meant absolutely nothing to him and he wouldn't be anyone's possessions. Differently from others, he didn't fight for a queen. He fought for himself. His sole preoccupation was his own survival. If he ever choose to bow down to anyone, it would be on his own terms and he would choose himself whom he would bow down to.

"I think, in this day and age everyone has a sad, ugly story to tell. I don't mind it at all, I want to hear all about you. And if you would prefer to talk about it in private I am happy to oblige. I just want to get to know all of my..." Fatima said, making Mikhail turn towards her and making his ice cold stare immediately disappear. The second she stopped though, Mikhail's eyes hardened and became colder as he waited for her to finish her sentence. Depending on how she finished that sentence, Mikhail's attitude towards the woman would drastically change. Such heavy stare would be easily perceived by Fatima herself though. If isn't wasn't clear before, with Mikhail's reaction now it became even more clear that it was difficult to earn his trust. Whatever was his past, it made him a man that always had his guard up and it was highly unlikely it would be easy for him to open himself with anyone so soon.

The second Fatima finished her sentence though, Mikhail's eyes immediately became softer and the kind and warm smile he had when he first met her appeared on his face once more.

"Friends... It's been a long while since I heard that word. It is... pleasant to hear it once more." he said, with a chuckle.

"Even if it turns out to be just a sweet illusion." he thought to himself as he looked to Belor with the same cold, penetrating stare from before.

---

"I haven't eaten yet." Came the rumbled voice of the Warlord of the three Saroth brothers. Gen crossed his arms as he stood in the hall over looking Mikhail and Artemis with a furrowed brow. Bare save a pair of pants, the Eyrien warrior looked for all the world like he had just rolled out of bed which he had. "In fact, I don't think I've been introduced yet Lady. Though, I think Faeril might be interested to know her house has been invaded by a party of strangers?" His golden gaze flickered over to his brother who shrugged slightly. A unspoken agreement to stay out of that battle til their Black Widow woke up. With a potential storm brewing between Faeril and the Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince that could upset the Court that was forming, they didn't need more trouble on their hands.

Belor grinned at Mikhail as the little man turned a cold gaze on him. while he would call it a grin, his brother winced and called it a showing of too many teeth to be civil. "It would be more pleasant to hear if you didn't try to turn the rest of us to ice." Gen drawled in annoyance of the contest that seemed to brewing. Something told him there would be a lot of those in the coming days. "Trust us, Lady Ashkevron does it with far more of an effect that you could hope to match." The Green jeweled man grinned though there was a hint of a threat there. Which was reasonable to the Saroth as he had just woken up to a house full of strangers and Faeril having overworked herself if the presence of another Healer was anything to go by.