FIC: Gathering Gloom, 3/16
Title: Gathering Gloom
Author: houses
Email: houses7177@gmail.com
Universes: Tir Alainn and Merry Gentry
Characters: Morag
Pairings: Morag/Sholto, Meredith/everyone else. No, I’m not kidding.
Narration: Morag, Merry, Taranis, Usna, Sholto
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Post Tir Alainn trilogy, Post book 4 MG.
Disclaimers: Tir Alainn belongs to Anne Bishop, Merry Gentry belongs to Laurel K Hamilton
Summary: Taranis uses forbidden magic to call an assassin he believes will finally settle his Maeve Reed problem. Only thing is, said assassin has a mind of her own and isn’t particularly pleased to be back from the dead.
Part 1 Part 2
~~~ Part 3 ~~~
Usna hated winter. Cats may not feel cold, as he had once asserted to Doyle, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. It sucked the warmth from his bones in a way that no curse could. But he covered himself up, warm in undignified polar fleeces and a puffy down jacket, and made his way to the grove between the mounds. Come rain, shine, sleet or that awful snow, he met his mother every fortnight. Just because they were banished from each others’ Courts didn’t mean the bonds between them weren’t as strong as ever.
He picked his way carefully over the stones, grimacing with every step. As a joke, some of the other guards had gotten him winter clothing in the same shades as his skin: reds, blacks, whites, creams and rusts, and he felt a bit bizarre tramping through the winter wonderland dressed as a patchwork quilt. But at least he was warm.
When he reached the usual glade, something made him shiver that wasn’t the cold. There was someone there, something decidedly not his mother, and Usna twitched his face back and forth. If he’d had ears that rotated like his feline counterparts, he would have been wildly searching the trees for what triggered the alarm, but as it was, he merely crept forward on cautious feet.
There, over the hill, the taste of … Other … was stronger. He sniffed, and realized it was the taste of oblivion, of the end of it all, of the determination before battle. After a moment, he spied a black lump on the ground. He thought about turning tail and running, but whatever this shape was, it presented possibilities both good and ill.
Usna was all about realizing possibilities.
He was a cautious Raven, a guard for the Unseelie Queen that had survived long on instinct and cleverness. Some of the other Ravens joked he had the nine lives his mother had left to him from her time as a housecat, but he knew better. Usna knew to listen to the wild bits inside, to pay more attention to the primal parts rather than the civilized parts. His piebald form crept forward, wondering if the shape was a dead shape until it moved, struggling up to a sitting position. He stopped short, metaphysical hackles rising. The shape sniffled a bit, and pushed the hood of the cloak away from a pale face.
A woman. A fae, with slightly pointed ears and huge dark eyes that shone bright with pain and frustration. Usna held one hand out tentatively, palm up. He didn’t survive among Queen Andais’ guards by being an idiot, after all, and this lady looked like she belonged in the Unseelie court. Too dark to appeal to the Seelie, too tainted with pointed ears. He wondered what the other bits of her were, the parts that gave a normally smooth-eared sidhe the ear-tip points of the wilder fey.
It was strange, though, because he had no idea who she was. Certainly over the years, sidhe and other creatures had come and gone from Andais’ rule, but this one had the look of royalty. An ethereal grace that, despite the pointed ears, commanded attention.
As intriguing as this woman was, Usna would certainly walk softly around her and watch his back for poisoned daggers. Living in the Unseelie Court had taught him many things-Queen Andais was as beautiful as she was sadistic, after all. Yet the stranger didn’t make a move to stand, much less harm him, so he walked softly closer. She watched with wary eyes, dark iron grey in the fading light.
“My lady, are you well?”
She blinked, tilting her head to the side, much as a bird would do. She thought for a moment, then answered in a halting tongue and accent he could not place, “I am lost.”
Usna arched an eyebrow and undulated a bit closer, every inch of feline grace. “You are on the grounds of the Mounds, between the Seelie and Unseelie courts.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t know this place. I have only just … woken up. It is strange and cold here.”
He heard the words, but for a moment nothing registered. Why would a woman fall asleep out here in the snow with no idea how she got there? With a start, Usna pulled back. She couldn’t possibly mean what she said, could she? That she was a sidhe come to life again? He had heard rumors of such things, but had been too skeptical to believe. She did not say such explicitly, but the sidhe did not lie to each other, and she didn’t seem to be shadowing her truths.
His new princess-the thought of being Meredith’s guard and not Andais’ was something he still had to get used to-had explained to her fresh entourage the rules of her household in the days following their acquisition. What she didn’t say were things Usna learned for himself, first riding in the Black Coach, then watching the old guards -- Doyle, Frost and the others. There was Old Magic amongst the Unseelie again and Meredith was working miracles left and right. He had seen Barinthus’ transition back the sea god of old, Meredith and Adair produce a stream from rocks, and Mistral’s storms blow down hallways with electric passion once more. Usna knew whatever this young woman was, she arrived at a time when nothing could be taken for granted.
As much as Usna loved the fine line between truth and lies, he knew reality when it stared him in the face, and right now it blinked at him with long lashes and translucently pale skin.
The chalice was doing more things than he thought possible, if it was reviving one who had fallen long ago. Many of the old gods had forgotten their names when their powers were stripped, but they still existed, choosing to remain rather than fade away. Meredith had explained to her new guards what had happened with the Nameless earlier in the year, how old powers were granted new life, how old magics were burgeoning in dead lands once more; Usna had seen more than one sidhe returned to power with his own eyes. Uneasily, however, Usna had to acknowledge that this woman was something else again, and it would definitely behoove him to tell his Queen-but first he must tell Meredith.
After all, the new allegiances, formed in desperation and determination, were not wise to ignore. If Meredith or her magic had done something strange, again, she should know first, before any more banquets in her honor got her maimed, or worse.
He held his hand out again, and this time the lady grasped it. Usna quelled the twist of unease in his groin when her presence brushed over him. She took no notice, however, and climbed to her feet gracefully.
“I am called Morag.” She shook her cloak out. “I am afraid I don’t know the laws of this land.”
“I’m Usna.” He managed to smile, baring sharp teeth, and said, “I’ll help you along. There are a few people you should meet, back in the Unseelie mound. I’ll explain along the way, as things are likely to have changed quite a bit since you last walked. I must leave a note for my mother, since she can’t follow us, and you don’t want to go to the Seelie Court. They’re … not particularly welcoming.”
He felt the flutter of fury ruffle his non-existent pelt before Morag tightened her grip on his hand. He barely heard her mutter, “No, I would imagine they’re not welcoming at all.”
Part 4
Author: houses
Email: houses7177@gmail.com
Universes: Tir Alainn and Merry Gentry
Characters: Morag
Pairings: Morag/Sholto, Meredith/everyone else. No, I’m not kidding.
Narration: Morag, Merry, Taranis, Usna, Sholto
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Post Tir Alainn trilogy, Post book 4 MG.
Disclaimers: Tir Alainn belongs to Anne Bishop, Merry Gentry belongs to Laurel K Hamilton
Summary: Taranis uses forbidden magic to call an assassin he believes will finally settle his Maeve Reed problem. Only thing is, said assassin has a mind of her own and isn’t particularly pleased to be back from the dead.
Part 1 Part 2
~~~ Part 3 ~~~
Usna hated winter. Cats may not feel cold, as he had once asserted to Doyle, but that didn’t mean he had to enjoy it. It sucked the warmth from his bones in a way that no curse could. But he covered himself up, warm in undignified polar fleeces and a puffy down jacket, and made his way to the grove between the mounds. Come rain, shine, sleet or that awful snow, he met his mother every fortnight. Just because they were banished from each others’ Courts didn’t mean the bonds between them weren’t as strong as ever.
He picked his way carefully over the stones, grimacing with every step. As a joke, some of the other guards had gotten him winter clothing in the same shades as his skin: reds, blacks, whites, creams and rusts, and he felt a bit bizarre tramping through the winter wonderland dressed as a patchwork quilt. But at least he was warm.
When he reached the usual glade, something made him shiver that wasn’t the cold. There was someone there, something decidedly not his mother, and Usna twitched his face back and forth. If he’d had ears that rotated like his feline counterparts, he would have been wildly searching the trees for what triggered the alarm, but as it was, he merely crept forward on cautious feet.
There, over the hill, the taste of … Other … was stronger. He sniffed, and realized it was the taste of oblivion, of the end of it all, of the determination before battle. After a moment, he spied a black lump on the ground. He thought about turning tail and running, but whatever this shape was, it presented possibilities both good and ill.
Usna was all about realizing possibilities.
He was a cautious Raven, a guard for the Unseelie Queen that had survived long on instinct and cleverness. Some of the other Ravens joked he had the nine lives his mother had left to him from her time as a housecat, but he knew better. Usna knew to listen to the wild bits inside, to pay more attention to the primal parts rather than the civilized parts. His piebald form crept forward, wondering if the shape was a dead shape until it moved, struggling up to a sitting position. He stopped short, metaphysical hackles rising. The shape sniffled a bit, and pushed the hood of the cloak away from a pale face.
A woman. A fae, with slightly pointed ears and huge dark eyes that shone bright with pain and frustration. Usna held one hand out tentatively, palm up. He didn’t survive among Queen Andais’ guards by being an idiot, after all, and this lady looked like she belonged in the Unseelie court. Too dark to appeal to the Seelie, too tainted with pointed ears. He wondered what the other bits of her were, the parts that gave a normally smooth-eared sidhe the ear-tip points of the wilder fey.
It was strange, though, because he had no idea who she was. Certainly over the years, sidhe and other creatures had come and gone from Andais’ rule, but this one had the look of royalty. An ethereal grace that, despite the pointed ears, commanded attention.
As intriguing as this woman was, Usna would certainly walk softly around her and watch his back for poisoned daggers. Living in the Unseelie Court had taught him many things-Queen Andais was as beautiful as she was sadistic, after all. Yet the stranger didn’t make a move to stand, much less harm him, so he walked softly closer. She watched with wary eyes, dark iron grey in the fading light.
“My lady, are you well?”
She blinked, tilting her head to the side, much as a bird would do. She thought for a moment, then answered in a halting tongue and accent he could not place, “I am lost.”
Usna arched an eyebrow and undulated a bit closer, every inch of feline grace. “You are on the grounds of the Mounds, between the Seelie and Unseelie courts.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t know this place. I have only just … woken up. It is strange and cold here.”
He heard the words, but for a moment nothing registered. Why would a woman fall asleep out here in the snow with no idea how she got there? With a start, Usna pulled back. She couldn’t possibly mean what she said, could she? That she was a sidhe come to life again? He had heard rumors of such things, but had been too skeptical to believe. She did not say such explicitly, but the sidhe did not lie to each other, and she didn’t seem to be shadowing her truths.
His new princess-the thought of being Meredith’s guard and not Andais’ was something he still had to get used to-had explained to her fresh entourage the rules of her household in the days following their acquisition. What she didn’t say were things Usna learned for himself, first riding in the Black Coach, then watching the old guards -- Doyle, Frost and the others. There was Old Magic amongst the Unseelie again and Meredith was working miracles left and right. He had seen Barinthus’ transition back the sea god of old, Meredith and Adair produce a stream from rocks, and Mistral’s storms blow down hallways with electric passion once more. Usna knew whatever this young woman was, she arrived at a time when nothing could be taken for granted.
As much as Usna loved the fine line between truth and lies, he knew reality when it stared him in the face, and right now it blinked at him with long lashes and translucently pale skin.
The chalice was doing more things than he thought possible, if it was reviving one who had fallen long ago. Many of the old gods had forgotten their names when their powers were stripped, but they still existed, choosing to remain rather than fade away. Meredith had explained to her new guards what had happened with the Nameless earlier in the year, how old powers were granted new life, how old magics were burgeoning in dead lands once more; Usna had seen more than one sidhe returned to power with his own eyes. Uneasily, however, Usna had to acknowledge that this woman was something else again, and it would definitely behoove him to tell his Queen-but first he must tell Meredith.
After all, the new allegiances, formed in desperation and determination, were not wise to ignore. If Meredith or her magic had done something strange, again, she should know first, before any more banquets in her honor got her maimed, or worse.
He held his hand out again, and this time the lady grasped it. Usna quelled the twist of unease in his groin when her presence brushed over him. She took no notice, however, and climbed to her feet gracefully.
“I am called Morag.” She shook her cloak out. “I am afraid I don’t know the laws of this land.”
“I’m Usna.” He managed to smile, baring sharp teeth, and said, “I’ll help you along. There are a few people you should meet, back in the Unseelie mound. I’ll explain along the way, as things are likely to have changed quite a bit since you last walked. I must leave a note for my mother, since she can’t follow us, and you don’t want to go to the Seelie Court. They’re … not particularly welcoming.”
He felt the flutter of fury ruffle his non-existent pelt before Morag tightened her grip on his hand. He barely heard her mutter, “No, I would imagine they’re not welcoming at all.”
Part 4