Archive of Our Own ^beta

THE BOUND AND DEFIANT

Intermission

***

The Wishing Wall, Keep of Voices, The Dreaming City

“So, this is it?” Petra Venj, chosen successor of Sjur Eido and Wrath-in-training, squinted her eyes and looked up, trying to make sense of the complex structure before her. 

Months had passed since Petra's stay within the royal residence had begun, and what she had learned thus far in this one day alone was far more monumental than the endless etiquette lessons an army of courtiers was trying to hammer into her peasant head, the inexhaustible conveyor belt of ceremonies she was only starting to be able to get through without falling asleep mid-way, and the ferocious training regime her teacher had designed to test how far the Awoken body could be pushed without killing it. And she had gotten close.

“What do you think? Pretty cool, isn't it?” Sjur Eido, acting Queen’s Wrath and soon-to-be Vestian Consort of the Reef’s Royal Territories, clasped Petra in the shoulder as her gaze moved upwards along her student’s, one of her classic grins on her face while she proudly admired the showcase example of her people’s marvels of engineering and arcane science.

“Well, it looks very advanced. State of the art, crafted by the Coven themselves if I had to guess. And these symbols, never seen anything like them before. What is this structure’s purpose?” the Wrath Successor cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms, calling on what she remembered of spellcrafting theory from back in her days in Amethyst to try and decipher the hundreds of glowing sigils that bombarded her sight and pulsed with cyan magical energy. Technology that she had never seen before or even knew existed within the secluded portions of the palace, but which she suspected she was about to become very familiar with.

When Queen Mara Sov called on her that morning for a “matter of state security,” her heart jumped to her throat in anticipation of what exactly had happened. She expected to be whisked off to a high profile meeting, or to serve as an advisor to her monarch for some crisis or delicate development that needed immediate answering. An opportunity for her to hone herself in the dimension of Wrathood that required no firearms or martial mastery, but demanded a cool head and a capacity for careful counsel. Neither of which Petra could still properly practice when in the presence of the All-Sovereign, and not for a lack of trying. It was just…difficult to hold one’s lunch in the presence of a Paracausal goddess.

But instead, the royal couple were standing on the other side of the door and intercepted her the moment she left her room, and she was then taken through the dizzying halls of the Keep of Voices. An incomprehensible labyrinth which consisted of twisting hallways and staircases, walls that opened into secret paths when touched a certain way, and trapdoors that required both the Lady of Starlight and her Wrath to utter simultaneous incantations for them to open.

The three of them came out of the maze and entered a cave of amethyst, dug through the rock of the mountain the royal residence was mounted on. Upon traversing its depth, which required a myriad of illusions to be dispelled by the Queen for the path forward to be revealed, they found the arcane mechanism before them.

It was a large obsidian mural, with hundreds of panels carved onto its surface which stretched on as high as she could see. She knew that it had to end somewhere, as this cavern must have had a roof, but the monolith rose on and on without seemingly any limit. A statement of its own, one more that their Lady put into everything her gaze could reach. The machine’s pulsing panels were connected to a glowing pressure plate on the floor, which Queen Mara was currently standing on, whose activation revealed the symbols they each held.

The Wishing Wall was what the Master of the Reef had called it, and Petra had no idea what it was. Aside from the fact that it was extremely important for state security and probably classified to hell and back. She would not be surprised if the All-Sovereign had her mind already seeded with amnestic triggers that would wipe out this memory if she failed to become Wrath, but for now, she was being entrusted with this secret. She was being trusted with it, because its safekeeping was one more obligation that the Queen’s Wrath was expected to uphold. She had to know far more than how to fight very well if she was to succeed Sjur Eido.

“Allow me to elaborate on this mechanism’s purpose. The Wishing Wall is-”

“Wait, wait, Mara. Let me ask her something first,” the Custodian of the Awoken began her explanation before Sjur brazenly interrupted her.

Petra instinctively flinched and swallowed, for her monarch being interrupted mid-speech was as unthinkable as the Dreaming City ever finding itself under siege. An offense that would have seen any other courtier kicked out of the Keep of Voices forever, but whose consequences Sjur was immune to. The two royals were lovers of course, but it did not mean Petra was any less shocked and discomforted every time this happened.

Mara stared at her fiancée, her glowing, piercing eyes measuring the viability of the request. A brief moment of silence that made the Wrath Successor discreetly gulp, not even being the one held by that gaze’s deific weight, but the regal lips curled upward slightly in an almost-smile which told the two courtiers that their liege was not angered. And also allowed Petra to breathe once more.

“Well, color me intrigued. Let us see what wisdom my Wrath will spout this time.”

“Okay, Petra, you see all of the symbols on the wall? Why don’t you try naming them?” the future Consort of the Awoken Sovereignty asked her successor with mischievous glee in her voice, which was not made any less suspicious by how she wrapped one arm around the smaller soldier's shoulders and brought her close.

“Oh, for the love of…” the Lady of Starlight’s subtle smile collapsed into a frown, and she whispered something beneath her breath that the former Corsair could not catch, and perhaps it was best that it was so. Petra, caught off guard by Sjur’s dismissal of the concept of personal space, worriedly glanced at the Queen and noticed that she looked like she was putting all of her Paracausal power into not facepalming.

“Uh..well,” the former Corsair coughed awkwardly as she beheld her Lady’s misery, and suspected she was being made a part of some sort of elaborate joke she was not in on. A specialty of Sjur Eido that she had gotten very acquainted with ever since her training had started.

But then again, it wasn't like she had ever been able to dodge an Eido-branded prank before it struck.

Screw it.

Petra looked at one of the symbols, and pursed her lips as she made out its shape. Two twinned fish swimming parallel to each other.

Was there some meaning to it? Most probably, but it was not one she was familiar with. Studying the rest of the sigils, she began to understand them as pieces of code, which perhaps needed to be imputed in a certain order for…something to happen. If that was the case, then the name of the symbol needed to be simple and easy to remember. It was likely that she would have to memorize whatever these combinations were and store them away in the vaults of her mind, so it was best to keep the names she would give them spartan.

“I think these symbols may combine to form some sort of code, so I’m going to keep the names simple. This one is…Double Fish.”

Queen Mara flinched with the same bafflement that she would have expressed had she just been slapped across the face by a muddy glove, and her jaw clenched as she bit back the protestation that nearly escaped her lips. Starting to get familiar with her tells.

Her Master’s reaction drove ice through Petra’s back, and she nervously looked at Sjur for answers. And safety. The Queen’s Wrath, for her part, was grinning with amusement that her successor would never understand, and wiggling her eyebrows in what could perhaps be jolly directed at the All-Sovereign. Or mockery? Or Triumph? Or…both?

“Double Fish. Oooh, I like that very much. Simple and to the point. Alright, next one!”

The Wrath Successor gazed at the symbol next to Double Fish. It was a snake biting its own tail, with the length of its body coiled in the very distinctive mathematical symbol for infinity. Knowing her sovereign’s passion for mythology, Petra knew that the particular pose of this snake probably meant something, but for the life of her she could not tell what it was. She was a soldier, not a Cryptarch, and she would say what she had in mind even if it would metaphorically slap Queen Mara yet again. Here it went, for Queen and Country.

“That’s Infinity Snake.”

One of Mara Sov’s eyes twitched ever slightly, and her unreadable mask threatened to be unravelled by the sucker punch to the nose Petra’s words had just delivered.

Your second Wrath will not be a yes-woman. At least there was one silver line to this disaster…

Sjur, in enormous contrast, was evidently having the time of her life while she delighted in her beloved’s suffering, if the way she was snickering and visibly holding back her laughter was any indication.

“Infinity Snake, eh? I love it! Easy to memorize, and it gets the idea across. I think I'm gonna have your names become the official designation for these, for they’re much better than the current ones. All right, next-”

“No. This conversation is finished. Petra, the first symbol is named Pisces, the second Ouroboros,” the Lady of Starlight sharply cut in, annoyance and anger polluting her otherwise neutral voice, before Sjur could continue with the barbaric defilement of her Wishing Wall.

“Yes my Queen, I apologize. These symbols will not be mislabeled again,” Petra immediately straightened her posture and swallowed the lump in her throat, even though she had no idea what the words Queen Mara said meant. Her Lady’s anger was legendary across the vast history of the Awoken Sovereignty , and she had no desire to be subjected to it at that moment, or ever for that matter.

“Mara, babe, no one knows what the hell an Ouroboros is. And Pisces? Really? Pre-Golden Age Humanity called, they want their obscure and forgotten superstitions back,” Sjur maintained her shit-eating grin and wiggled her eyebrows at her fiancée once again in mock or triumph or both, as if this exchange had been but the most recent in a long line of similar incidents. 

Fuck.  

It was an act that terrified the former Corsair, for it might as well have been the equivalent to dangling a piece of fresh meat in front of a swiftly-approaching shark. Petra could do nothing but brace herself for the verbal obliteration they were both surely about to receive, and looked at the Queen’s Wrath with pure disbelief at her provocations.

Time to become part of Awoken history. First woman in all of Vesta to be flattened all the way down to the literal molecules…

But then the All-Sovereign took a breath, momentarily closed her eyes, and calmed herself, much to the Wrath Successor’s relieved surprise.

"Sjur, are you going to repeat this charade every time we introduce the Wishing Wall to someone?" the Queen asked with crossed arms while nastily glaring at her partner, the air she carried herself with stately and regal once more as if nothing had happened. Well, except for the glare. That could boil metal.

"Yup. Or until you decide to rename Ouroboros to Infinity Snake . When not even the Paladins know what you're talking about with these symbols, you know you've gone full Mara."

"Never happening. Anyways, if your funny little game is finished for now, then let me explain to Petra why we brought her here."

The future Consort nodded and motioned for Queen Mara to begin the explanation, the smile that was hand-crafted to infuriate their monarch still on her face as she did so, because Petra was starting to realize that Sjur Eido was a lunatic that thought getting rises out of a goddess with a temper was a thrill unlike any other.

“As you are aware, the Dreaming City was constructed in cooperation with Riven. She rendered reality’s pillars malleable over what was formerly the 4 Vesta asteroid, and once causality was made amenable to outside designs, all that was required to finalize the process was for me to imprint my will into the open canvas. Thus, the Dreaming City was created in the image of our ancient Distributary,” the Custodian of the Awoken began with her explanation, looking straight through Petra’s soul to avoid her fiancée’s games.

The Wrath Successor nodded along, familiar with the story that was taught to all Awoken since early into their education. It was not a secret that the Master of the Reef had communed with a Wish-Dragon in order to make the fantastical real, but what all Awoken of insufficient rank and station did not know was that this contract between the Queen and the Ahamkara was still very much active.

And not only that, Riven was confined somewhere in the very heart of the Keep of Voices, which was a truth she surmised many would prefer to remain ignorant of in order to retain the capacity for sound sleep. She certainly needed a while to process it herself once it was revealed to her, and it was yet another secret her tightened lips would never let slip for as long as she lived. If the Guardians somehow learned that the Awoken harbored the last known Ahamkara remaining in the Sol System, they would have a diplomatic disaster in their hands. Or worse.

“For security concerns, access to Riven is limited only to my person, and her prison is protected by the arcane mechanisms of the Eternity Vault. Later today you will be taught the combinations to its locks, but it is only by my direct permission that its Paracausal seals will yield and open the way.

While these measures restrict access to Riven, my Coven and I have designed this apparatus before us to actually make wishes to the dragon. Observe,” Mara Sov continued before she pulled an ornamented Vulpecula pattern hand cannon from a hidden holster in the inner folds of her regalia, which was a weapon Petra had no idea the Queen carried on her person before then. The Custodian of the Awoken took aim and cracked a series of shots into the sigils of the Wishing Wall in quick succession, which confirmed the former Corsair’s suspicions that they were indeed parts of a code.

The Lady of Starlight hid away the luxurious gun once the machine began to pulse with bright power, and expectantly held out a hand. No more than a second passed before a thousand tears in reality cut the very air around her waiting palm, and a glass of water chilled by ice cubes materialized on it.

The All-Sovereign drank the cool liquid with eyes closed in satisfaction, and absentmindedly threw the glass behind her once she emptied it.

“My Queen, did you…just wish for that?” the Wrath Successor blinked, and looked at the shattered glass on the marbled floor behind her monarch. Confusion was only the tip of the iceberg of emotions crashing against her brain. To have such enormous power at one’s beck and call and use it for such a mundane purpose seemed…wrong to her. Irresponsible, she dared think.

“Just a demonstration, Petra. You see, the reason why Ahamkara are dangerous creatures can be found in the Paracausal method they employ to grant wishes. Wish-Dragons devour the metaphysical space between Reality-as-Is and Reality-as-Is-Wanted. The concept known as the Anthem Anatheme, if we were to summarize this Paracausal ability into two words. The victim’s desire is the trigger, and an Ahamkara will take all that it can get if given the opportunity.

If a wish is poorly defined, it opens itself to interpretation, and interpretation means freedom of possibility. The more possibilities allowed to a Wish-Dragon, the more it will devour, and the gluttonous beasts are not mindful of the havoc they cause when they feed. 

Take this glass of water, for example. A simple petition at a glance, is it not? But what if this glass is taken from the table of Deputy Commander Zavala of the Last City, and it triggers an investigation by the Hidden as to what exactly caused it to disappear from plain view during a Vanguard meeting? An investigation that eventually leads them to us, and forces us to deal with the consequences that will follow Riven’s discovery,” the Queen posed her hypothetical scenario with a knowing tilt of her head.

“Oh. That…would be a problem,” Petra quietly acknowledged, finally starting to understand for herself the sheer risks behind asking wishes of Ahamkara. Corsairs knew that they were bad news and were strictly forbidden from interacting with them, but she had never had it explained to her in such a thorough way before. Need to know basis and all of that.

“Precisely. However, their potential uses are boundless, and our home is a testament to this reality. Riven is a resource that I will not abandon due to mere risks. Power is valuable above all, and unique power even more so. Take this to heart, Petra, there is always a way to accomplish the seemingly impossible. All one needs to solve a problem is to find the answer through work and study, no matter how arduous or tiring. No matter how fruitless the pursuit may seem at first.

The answer to this particular conundrum lies before you. Tell me, how do you suppose the Wishing Wall accomplishes its task?” the Lady of Starlight asked her future Wrath and right hand, curious to discover if she had followed along and if she was as sharp as Sjur had made her out to be.

Better not mess this one up.

“It…turns wishes explicit. Eliminates the potential for interpretation that Riven may exploit. Makes your desires clear beyond doubt, and impossible to twist. How, I am not sure, but this is what I suspect it does,” the former Corsair answered after a moment of thought.

Sjur smiled at her once she gave her answer, and her sovereign’s features relaxed, indicating she was pleased.

“Excellent. Yes, that is exactly what the Wishing Wall is designed to do. By inputting certain combinations of sigils, a psychic message is sent to Riven to communicate the petition. My Coven designed the messaging matrix to be attuned to Ahamkara minds, made possible by the many specimens Sjur here has brought us throughout her hunts, and it relays the wish in question in a way that Riven finds exceedingly difficult to take advantage of. However, this is no guarantee that she won't try to crack our cipher. We must never forget that she is a highly cunning beast, which means that the wishes made to her must be kept to a minimum despite the safety measures we have put in place.

When the time comes and you are mantled as our Wrath, the wishing codes will be taught to you, in case both Sjur and I find ourselves incapacitated or otherwise unfit to rule. You will be our failsafe in case the worst comes to pass,” the Awoken Monarch finished with her explanation and revealed the reason behind the excursion, causing Petra to answer with a sharp nod and a swift salute, her visage hardened by resolve and provided focus.

“If it were up to me, Riven would already have an arrow through her skull and her remains would be mounted in my gallery, but that is not a debate I’ve been able to win against Mara. And believe me, we’ve been at it for centuries. The Wishing Wall is a fair compromise between our two differing viewpoints,” Sjur added to her partner’s statements.

“Well, this does make the prospect of sleeping under the same roof as a Wish-Dragon easier to swallow. I’ll be honest, that truth unnerved me when you first told me of it, but at least this means no accidents with Riven will happen. If we have to keep a nuke, it's better that it's disarmed, right?” the Wrath Successor exhaled and allowed relief to soften her words, even adding a lively pep to them that had not been there throughout the entire day thus far. Alright, happy endi-

“Yes, Sjur. Good thing that no accidents with Riven have ever happened, hm?” Mara glacially glared at her fiancée, and her expression was so intense that it caused the blood running through the former Corsair’s veins to freeze. Or the paralysis she was suffering felt like it.

Petra could only move her eyes and used them to quickly glance over at her mentor. What she needed to see was the Wrath brushing off the Queen’s comment with the same playful ease she demonstrated earlier. Instead, Sjur shifted nervously where she stood and her playful smile turned into the anxious grin of the undeniably guilty.

“Did…did something happen with Riven?” the Wrath Successor slowly asked her idol, even though there was an intelligent part of Petra Venj’s being that was telling her she was better off not knowing.

“Well…uh…y-yes. But it wasn't anything serious. I mean it could have been, but thankfully it didn't! I just got…very stupid one day and…well, whoopsie daisy am I right? Hahahaha!” the future Consort maintained her incredibly forced smile and let out the fakest laugh Petra had heard in years as she started sweating and got as white as a salt mine, pinned in place by her partner's penetrating glare that bored down on her without blinking or softening.

“Ah, such a way with words. Very stupid indeed. Yes, Petra, dear Sjur here nearly ended us all one fateful night, and that incident is why I decided to have all of this security installed around Riven’s enclosure. Keep this a secret, will you? You already seem to have more of a brain in your skull than my lovely partner sometimes shows herself to lack,” Queen Mara’s cold eyes were still not blinking as she softly smiled at Sjur in an unnatural, demonic, and disturbing way that was completely incompatible with her stare. An intimidating expression that could have killed Petra where she stood and made Sjur's spirit flee from her body.

“Let us move to your preliminary observation of the Eternity Vault. Should you be deemed worthy of the title you pursue, I shall teach you how to open its lock,” the All-Sovereign let her glare subside before turning on her heels to exit the cavern. Sjur let out a gasp, as if her errant soul had just realized the coast was clear and made a beeline for its abandoned body, and she and Petra followed behind their Lady.

The Wrath Successor could not help but wonder what exactly had happened with the Wish-Dragon, but she would trust Sjur’s insistence that no serious consequences had been inflicted on the Awoken people.

Thinking on that incident was pointless, because something about her monarch's anger over the memory told her she would never reveal that particular secret.

She decided to forget about the conversation entirely, and followed her Master and her mentor back the way they came.

***

Months Before

Mara Sov’s Chambers, Keep of Voices, The Dreaming City

“Annnnd, that's another win for me baby!” Sjur exclaimed after flipping her last remaining facedown card, and revealed it to be an ace of diamonds that triumphed over Mara’s queen of spades. An honest conquest earned through both skill and fortune, with considerable emphasis on the fortune. 

“This latest jest of yours is in the poorest of tastes. I am starting to tire of this. Be truthful with me, did you stack the deck?” Mara pouted as she held out her empty cup for her beloved to fill, the penalty for her loss being yet another helping of wine that she would have to finish before the next match commenced. A pitiful contest that would likely end with her supping on Bacchus’s sacrament yet again, if the way things had gone thus far was any indication.

The Queen Majestic that could make reality bow like the subject that it was had lost a humiliating amount of matches to her Wrath throughout the night, and she could not detect any cause behind her rotten luck apart from her fiancée cheating her way to victory. Or perhaps, the culprit was the inherently unfair nature of the game. Now, had this been chess…

Palace, or Palace in the Palace, as Sjur liked to call it when they played in their chambers or anywhere within the Keep of Voices, was a game whose final stage came down almost entirely to chance, and the All-Sovereign knew her loss streak would have to give way to a win eventually. It was simply a matter of probability. But until then, more gulps of sweetened liquor were in order.

“Girl, you wound me. We all have bad days when the cards aren't in our favor. Or, perhaps you’re in the sights of some trickster god that wants you to get drunk tonight. But I assure you, there's no cheating from my part,” the future Consort opened a fresh bottle of Vestian Cherry with one of those grins that might as well have been her face’s default expression, and filled both her own cup and Mara’s with the red beverage before swallowing a large mouthful.

“Sjur…reveal your secret to me. The wine is starting to affect me, and yet you seem unfazed by all the alcohol you’ve consumed thus far. If I didn't know better, I would think you immune,” the Lady of Starlight asked her partner and rested her heavy forehead on a palm, eyeing the cup she would have to finish with veiled dread. “Starting to affect me” was an understatement, but she would not let her partner know just how plastered she was, lest she become the butt of a new generation of jokes for all of time to come.

“The secret is that the alcohol hit me a long time ago. When you love your booze as much as I do, you quickly learn a thing or two about acting sober,” the Wrath clinked her cup with Mara’s, discarded all performative pleasantries, and quickly emptied its contents with vigorous gulps.

The Master of the Reef could not conceal her horror as she beheld how the beast that called itself Sjur Eido thirstily consumed yet another drink with ease that made her own lack of tolerance look pathetic in comparison. Not to be outdone, but sure in her knowledge that she would never allow herself to devolve into such prehominid barbarism, Mara began nursing her wine while her beloved shuffled the deck of cards.

Lively festivities were taking place in the Central Wing of the royal residence, dedicated to celebrating Petra Venj’s introduction to court and the start of her journey as the Wrath Successor.

Sjur, naturally so, had been the heart of said party and drank stupid amounts of liquor before they both retired early to their chambers for the rest of the night. The celebration was supposed to be about Petra, and while both the Queen and the Wrath remained in the spotlight she would not receive the attention she was owed by the courtiers, and as such they made an early exit.

Sjur, who also was a woman who naturally lost her ability to stop once she was roused by flowing libations, proposed they continue the party in their room. In her own words,“the night was still a fine supple maiden yet to be deflowered,” and it was prose so well-spoken that a stunned Queen was unable to do anything but agree. And comply Mara certainly did, by swiping a glowing finger to open a portal and then…appropriating a couple dozen bottles from the royal kitchens while no one was looking. Abuses of magic were not abuses if no one knew they had happened.

A choice the tipsy All-Sovereign was starting to regret, for she was being swiftly reminded that she could not keep up with her fiancée at all, and the number the wine was already doing on her head was embarrassing to her. Humiliating, even. A weakness that she would rather power through than acknowledge, for her own famous stubbornness would not allow her to admit defeat.

Her only recourse now was to finally prevail in one of these card duels, and then she would call it a night and retire for early slumber. Would Sjur never let her hear the end of it? Certainly so, but it was a better outcome than ending up passed out on the floor. Which was something that had…most definitely never occurred to one as graceful and dignified as Prudent Mara Sov.

However, despite her bleeding sense of pride, the Queen suspected that the cup she was currently nursing would be far from her last, if her string of defeats was any indication. But Regnant Mara Sov bowed to no one, not even Bacchus.

Sjur must have sensed her trepidation through their telepathic bond, and set the deck of cards on the floor where they sat, a knowing smirk telling the Lady of Starlight that her inner monologuing was being very much read.

“What if we play one last game? For all the beans. Win, and you’ll be the victor for the entire night! Nevermind that you've lost every single round of Palace we've played since we started,” the Wrath steepled her hands like the negotiator that she wasn’t, for she knew her headstrong monarch would not resist such an opportunity.

And she wasn’t wrong.

“I may be listening. What do you propose?” as Sjur expected and Mara could not pretend it would ever be anything but her immediate reaction, the royal head immediately perked up and the queenly features sharpened with focus.

“We share a mug of Foil,” the future Consort made her offer with complete seriousness, as if the words that had just escaped her lips could ever be a truce in good faith rather than complete derision.

Mara was not even able to blink before the refutation burst forth from her outraged mouth.

“Is that supposed to be a joke? I ask, because I am not smiling. Slow poisoning or suicide by gunshot are not “choices,” Sjur,” the Custodian of the Awoken rolled her eyes, frowned, and channeled as much venom as she could into the ice she was spewing, for her “options” were so ridiculous as to not be options at all.

“Well, you could always call it quits and admit defeat. Would mean you’re a granny that goes to bed early on party night, but hey it's always an option…I suppose,” Sjur innocently tilted her head and smiled a tiny, playful smile, as if she did not know that she had just pushed Mara’s buttons like only she could.

“Granny?!! Excuse me?! I am going to pretend you did not just say that. Come on, speak again. Properly, this time, ” the Queen sneered, for being called old was one of the verbal provocations that never failed to get a rise out of her, and even more so when it came from her beloved. And even more so when she smiled like that while calling her ancient. Which she most certainly was not.

“You heard me, didn't you? Or is your hearing going bad too? All that white hair on your head, all those eons of living. I guess age was going to catch up with you eventually, but it is quite unfortunate that it happened so soon. Not for me though, I'm still as spry as ever!” the Wrath brushed a hand through her long, braided blonde hair to further inflame her millegenarian partner. 

“First of all, my hair is silver, not white. Second, we are both equally ancient. Third, shut the hell up and bring the damned bottle out,” the All-Sovereign was well aware that she had just been masterfully played like a fiddle, but was past caring. She would take Sjur on her challenge, win decisively, and in the process also make up for her humiliating past failure at braving the sewer water her beloved called Foil.

This time, she would not crash on the bed like a dropped sack of potatoes and pass out. This time, Resplendent Mara Sov would transcend her limits and break past the barriers of the possible, as she had done time and time before.

“Attagirl, that's the spirit!” the future Consort stood from the floor with noticeable effort, and mounted on muscular legs that were now wobbling like jelly she made her way to a small coolbox she kept on one corner of the spacious chamber. A treasure trove as vital to the Crown as the High Command’s strategic database on Pallas, for it was here where the Wrath kept essential supplies for special occasions such as this one. 

Before long, the staggering woman returned with a black bottle in one hand, and a mug in the other. 

Sjur cracked open the bottle with expert flair and began to carefully pour the liquid into the mug. She squinted her eyes and stuck her tongue out, her entire concentration focused on getting the measurements just right to not end up murdering her fiancée with too much wack booze. Again.

If Mara was still angry over being called a grandma then humor proved mightier than indignance, because the Queen couldn't help but snort and then crack up with a rare laugh elicited by her partner’s expression, which made her beloved seem like a chemistry academic preparing a dangerous experiment for her students. A look of intellectual concentration that was so unlike Sjur, and which she couldn't believe came out due to an ignoble task like this one.

The All-Sovereign’s laughter caught the Wrath’s attention and made her look at her from the corner of her eye. Mara's face was flushed, her hands fanning her for the air the unexpected guffawing charged as payment, her smile making the dimples in her cheeks show when most of the Reef didn't even know they existed. Yup, she’s as drunk as someone can be.

Sjur made sure to not go overboard with the contents of the mug her beloved would drink, and she soon finished pouring the elixir before handing the container to her Lady, sure that she could handle that amount without passing out. Just one finger's worth, and there we go. Enough to rock the socks right off a goddess.

“Ah, pardon me. I did not realize your definition of the word “mug” was different from mine,”  the Awoken Monarch sassed her partner with a cutting smirk, for the pitifully small amount of drink she would have to consume to win was not worthy of Mara Sov.

“What, you want more? Did you forget what happened to you last time?” the Wrath raised an eyebrow at her Queen, confused and somewhat disturbed by her reaction.

“You must think very little of me if you believe this is all I can handle. Victory would feel hollow, should I accept this challenge unbefitting of my station. Pour some more,” the Master of the Reef held out the mug to her Consort, awaiting more brew. Her pride and ego would not be satisfied with such a paltry amount, obviously so. And the day she did was the day she gave up the throne to someone mightier. 

“Well, if you insist. Alright…” Sjur began pouring just a touch more of the substance into the container, “...there . No more than that. This is enough to burn your eyebrows right off, trust me.”

“Acceptable. Will you serve your own portion once I am finished?” Mara raised an unburned eyebrow of her own, noticing that her beloved had no glass for herself and also well aware that Sjur Eido was the furthest thing from a coward that there was in all of Sol.

“Nahhh, the whole bottle is for me. We’ll drink together.”

“The whole…what?! Are you out of your mind?!” Mara was horrified, the sassy smirk wiped clean off her face in one terrible instant that would echo across the infinite cosmos.

Sjursfoil was probably the most potent drink ever produced by Humanity as a collective species, as her insane partner had designed it with the same Paracausal herbs and arcane substances Techeuns utilized for their highly toxic tinctures. Tinctures that were so potent they could elevate the mind and allow it to peer into the Ascendant Plane, to put the beverage's power into perspective.

“Possibly. But there is tradition that we must respect here. Once a bottle of Foil is opened, it must be finished during that same night. And, since you're not going to help with that, the heroic task falls to me alone. So, see you on the other side?” the future Consort, whom Mara was now sure had more than a few screws loose in her empty head, bared her teeth and put forward the bottle to clink it with her mug.

“Well, I guess you’ve made your choice. We shall find ourselves on that other side. Santé,” the All-Sovereign raised her glass and clinked it with the offered bottle, resigned to the fact that she was about to become wasted in ways that could never leave the privacy of this room, lest the myth she had spent so many eras cultivating be dealt a mortal blow.

The two Awoken royals proceeded to down their drinks, and a night of chaos began mere minutes after.

***

"Sjuwrr, Sjuuuwwrrrr, SjoooOoor, you…you'rrrre…you're godssshhdaaamned inshaaaane, you knowee…rrright?" the plastered Queen slowly crawled on the floor to reach her beloved, unwilling to surrender before the intensifying gravity pressing down on her everything, and collapsed face-first on top of Sjur's chest once she finally reached her. Tonight, there would be rest for the weary and the stupid, and tonight Great Mara Sov was both.

"Ahahahahahahahahahahahhahahaha! Ohohohohohoho loohohohoks like you're dead ahahahagain! Bahahahahahahahahahahahaha!" the equally brain-rotted Wrath could not contain her hysterics as she hugged her limp partner, and they both rolled around the carpeted floor in a dumb haze that might as well have belonged to the Fae Folk's lost woods. Soon enough they would be a pair of frogs exchanging ribbits, dancing mad over a lake beneath the moon.

Less than a minute had passed since Mara finished the mug and Sjur the bottle, and the sheer strength of the beverage had already knocked both of them on their asses and had them blabbering nonsense. For Sjur, it was one drop too many for her overworked liver to handle, and the abused organ screamed out the timeless wisdom of the phrase fuck it and clocked out of the office. For Mara, her submerged brain was demanding to know what the hell she had been thinking and revoked her deity privileges until further notice.

"F-F-Faaaakck you, bistcshhh. I-I'm conshcious…shee? Hereeee, I amm…heareee. I won! And youuuuuu…uh…youUUuu…you…..you lost! Yes…you lossshhhht," the shitfaced All-Sovereign lifted herself from her partner's unspeakably comfortable body. The porcelain long melted into uselessness, Mara grinned an imbecilic grin that could have single-handedly obliterated Vesta’s nationhood, and booped Sjur in the nose to accentuate her triumph.

"You…you allllllmoshht took off my ewwe…with yourrr…yoarr finnngerrr," the future Consort slurred, grinning back at her Lady and barely containing her laughter over the farcical way she had almost lost part of her eyesight.

"Liessshh. My Wrrrruath liesssshh," the ravaged Master of the Reef defended herself with the same eloquence she used to open and close sessions of court, a stupefied smile on her face as she moved her finger from her fiancée's nose and jabbed it onto her cheek.

"Ohohohohohoho! Tesshhting timeeeee. How…how…how many…of me do you…shhee? I shhee…two of you. Oop! Thrrree now," Sjur squinted her eyes, putting what remained of her gray matter to decipher the shifting mirage before her that was her beloved, but the world simply would not stop spinning. Or perhaps Mara was using illusion magic to trick her, for all she knew. It wasn't like she could have told the difference even if she tried.

"Uhh. Sssshhhhit. I…ah…faaive? It's not fairwr, Sjurrr! You're usshhing…magic! Maaaagickkk…Illusion…magic…to throw me…off!" the Lady of Starlight mumbled semi-coherently, evidently suspecting the same thing that her Consort was privately accusing her of. Not even married yet, and the seeds of a power struggle were already being sown. The Sovereignty would not survive two Queens jockeying for the throne.

"Pffthahahahahahhahahahaha! Mara is drrrrunkkkk! Drunk drunk drunk drunk! She almost took my eye, becauseeeeee she sees five of MeEeEeeeeeeeEEEE! ♪" Sjur started singing, in what she swore was a melodious voice fit for the Royal Troubadours, but was actually off-key screeching worthy of a raspy specter or haunting Aphelion.

"S-S-Shut uppp. You ssshhing so uglyyyyy. You're drunk too! Come on, stop it! Ssssshtop it!" the Awoken Monarch weakly patted her tormentor on the cheek, less out of anger and more out of pleading for her to stop screaming and spare her ears their early death. She may have been thousands upon thousands of years old, but that did not mean imperilled Mara Sov was prepared to go deaf.

"♪ We are both so druUUuuuUUUUUuUuUuUuUuuuunk!~ We drank toooooo muschhh SjuUuUuUrsfoiiiiiiillllll! ♪" the future Vestian Consort of the Awoken Sovereignty forgot that she was one day going to become a monarch, kept fantasizing about her coming life as a wandering songstress with the Troubadours, and paid no mind to her beloved's pleas, bringing her singing to even worse lows.

"Elders…Sjur…I beg. L-lets do…something…fun! Yes yes yes, fun! You like…games, r-r-right? I have…an idea. A grrreat…idea. The best…idea! You are going to…love it! B-B-But I won't…say it, until you…stop…scree- I-I mean s-singing!" the hammered royal managed to somehow string the sentences together even as the soundwaves her Wrath was blasting right in her face, point-blank, made concentrating on anything nearly impossible.

"And…I…I…urk. Stomach…bad. Dizzy. Hurtss," Mara’s face was marred by the signs of sickness, and she clutched her stomach with sudden malaise.

"Woah woah, no…puking. You're..fine…alright? No more singing. Why don't you…tell me the idea? Do you want water? I should get water," Sjur immediately stopped her act and sat upright, gently straightening up her Queen and carefully rubbing her back to ease her nausea.

"Hehehehehe! I lied! You…fell for it! Dummy!" the Custodian of the Awoken giggled mischievously, elated by the fact that her ingenious plan to get her partner to stop singing worked flawlessly, and she stuck her tongue out at Sjur in mockery so childish it would have killed Imogen Rife on the spot if the soldier’s soldier ever witnessed it.

Sjur took a couple of seconds to process the betrayal, as if she could not comprehend why her beloved would lie about something like that. When she finally did, she wrapped her burly arms around her Lady and started singing again in a melancholy tone.

"♪ Mara Sov, the deception queEEeeEeEeEeen, lied to meeEEEE! ♪"

"N-No…come on, Sshhjuwr. I'm…I'm sorry," Mara immediately tried taking back her lie, both because her partner's sad tone got to her, and because she really did not want to listen anymore to her mortifying affronts against everything that singing stood for.

"♪ And for her crimeeee, she must be…punisheddddd! ♪" the Consort finished her song, dropped the sad façade and replaced it with a vicious grin and twinkling eyes, tightened her arms around her Queen, and trapped her with her embrace turned prison.

"W-wait…Sssjurrr. I…uh…erm…am w-willing to talk abou-" in one single instant so shocking that it temporarily sobered her up and allowed her to understand what was about to happen to her, the All-Sovereign’s blood left her face and rendered it deathly pale. 

Her pleading was cut short, however, once her Wrath's nimble fingers immediately dug into her sides and began to roughly tickle them.

"PWAH AHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NONONONONO WAIT WAIT WAHAHAHAHAHAHIT BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA EHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAHYAH PFTTHWEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHONAAAAAAAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHANONONONONOSTAWPSTAWP STAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"

Well…that was certainly the ugliest squawking cackle she had ever let loose in her eons of living…

The panicking Queen had never been assaulted like this while under the influence of any substances, and found that her sensitivity increased a thousand fold as her booze-marinated mind was unable to mount any sort of defense whatsoever against the horrible sensations which caught her completely flat-footed. Not like bracing for it would have made it any more bearable. Those drilling fingers were going to leave her abdomen sore…and they were so bloody fast too.

She thrashed around in her beloved's death grip as much as she was allowed to, desperately shook and forcefully flailed in animalistic attempts to somehow break herself free and escape, and began punching her torturer with violence she could not believe she was brandishing and digging her nails into her her thighs to get her to stop, to no avail. Sjur’s legs were protected by her pants, and her muscles were iron. Only magic would save the Custodian of the Awoken, but she was so wasted she could not think clearly enough to restrain her spells and avoid accidentally killing her fiancée. Mara could not comprehend how Eldersdamned ticklish she was in that moment, for her sides were not even close to being her most sensitive zones. By the gods…if it were the bottoms of her feet or under her arms being targeted…perhaps death would finally claim her…

"NONONONONHOHOHO HAAAAAAAAAHH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! WAHAHAHAHAIT I HAHAHAHVE AN IHIHIHIDEHEHEHEA GHHAAAAH HAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! THAHAHAHAHAHAT WAHAHAHAHASN'T A LIEE AAAAAAIIEEEEEEE HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA FUHUHUHUHUHUCK FUUUUUUUUUUCK HAHAHA HAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

Sjur paused the brutal punishment, a blush reddening her cheeks, for she could not help but be anything but turned on by her beloved's vulnerability. Especially cuz she deserved it, and they both knew it. It's why she was blushing too. Apart from all her screaming. And lack of breathing.

"What's the idea, hmm? Perhaps a…tiiiiiickling session? You wanna…be torrrrrrrtured? I c-c-can provide…if you want," the inebriated Wrath seductively bit her lip as she put forward a proposal of her own, her gray face flushed pink and intentional sauce put into the word that held so much power over her liege.

"M-Might not…*hic*...be a good idea. I might…*hic*...actually p-puke. Why don't I…mmm…cast an invisibility spell, a-a-and we, sneak…around the party? Have some…*hic*...fun! No one will know!" the panting All-Sovereign proposed between bouts of chirping hiccups, because she was now actually nauseous as a result of her fiancée's devastating attack. Regardless of her malaise, she couldn’t prevent herself from shivering over the forbidden t word that her partner uttered and the way she had said it, and would have agreed to have a tickling session had her stomach been behaving itself.

"Ohohohohoho! T-that's my girl! You're learning… how to parrrrrtay! I'm game! But also, you want some…uh…water?" Sjur felt her partner's upset stomach through their shared bond, and realized that tickling her probably wasn't the best of choices while she was in this state. But later…hohohoh.

"No…I mean…yes? Or…erm…m-maybe. Not right now, but…l-l-l-later. Laterrrrrrr. Laaaaaaaaatewwwrrrrrrrrr," the Custodian of the Awoken's train of thought left the station and launched itself to some far off corner of the Universe only her sloppy mumbling could take her to, her brain still gripped by the Foil's iron grasp which did not treat novices like her kindly.

"Alright…that's a yes," the future Consort raised an eyebrow, amused by how her Queen's head bobbed up and down while she spoke the language of the enlightened by booze and rose to the hallowed halls of Beerhalla. My, my. To have Mara, of all people, sit at that table and smash a glass against the floor before demanding another.

Deciphering such ramblings was an art that she had mastered a long while into the past, for she had uttered those same sacred phrases throughout her quest to develop an adamantium liver.

A mission that had spanned millenia, and whose result was the superhuman tolerance she now boasted and which allowed her to remain kinda functional despite the barrels of booze she was soon going to piss out.

With great effort, Sjur stood from the floor and had to gather her bearings for a moment once the world started spinning again. She walked over to the coolbox, taking great care to not bump into any furniture or crash against a wall on the way, and once she reached her destination she grabbed a large water thermos from within.

She took a long drink from it, for the party was just getting started and she needed to replenish herself for what was to come. This was a marathon, not a race after all. The refreshing drink finished, she refilled the container and made her way back to Mara, who had her eyes closed, her back placed against the foot of the bed, and was starting to doze off.

"Hey…you there?" the future Consort softly patted her cheek, causing the Lady of Starlight to jerk awake with alarm. Because she had not just been caught falling asleep, of course not.

"Yes. I…am not yet…defeated," Mara forced her eyes to remain open, and her Wrath shoved the thermos into her numb hands. The grateful All-Sovereign wrapped her arms around it as if its contents were a resource most vital, and offered her beloved a thanking nod.

"Good. The parrrrtay…is just…s-s-starting. And our drinking…ain't…over! There is sooooo much wine out there. We need…a sippy sip. Just a little, eh?" Sjur proposed, her mouth watering at the thought of getting her hands on some more delicious wine that was just ripe for the picking in the main wing of the Keep of Voices. And it was not just any store-bought wine, but the tastiest of aged vintages the nobility kept to themselves until the Queen commanded them to open their cellars.

"Okay…sure. But..sl-slo-slowww down...a bit. Wine…is good! Very good. Tasty. But too much...is bad," the Queen placed a hand on her Wrath's shoulder and leaned close, making sure her sage wisdom that only a Coven Witch could fully understand was absorbed in its entirety.

Sjur again had to bite her lip to prevent herself from laughing at her Lady's great philosophical musings, which she suspected were not said with any humor whatsoever and were in fact meant with complete seriousness.

"Right. You know…what is also good? The washroom. And the toilet…within. I need to pee," the future Consort whispered her secret, eliciting a nod of recognition from the wasted royal.

"Ohhhh. I think I…I…ssshhould also…do that. Good idea! The best idea. You are ssshmart Sshhjur," the Master of the Reef slurred her words as she held out a hand. The Wrath understood the request, and helped her up.

The two plastered women carefully, slowly, made their way to the washroom, and finished their business before they set forth from the privacy of their room and towards the brave new world which awaited just outside the door.

***

Central Wing, Keep of Voices, The Dreaming City

The hammered royals slowly stalked the crystalline hallways of the royal residence, concealed by an invisibility spell that masked their movements and nullified all produced sound. They carefully walked and hugged the carved sapphire walls, taking great care to not bump into the battalions of waiters and servants that restlessly marched towards the Central Wing and back, carrying trays of luxurious foods and beverages of all kinds for the gathered courtiers and emptied containers back to the kitchens for restocking.

Sjur had plucked a wine bottle out of one of the trays with the passing manservant being none the wiser, and Mara cradled her thermos as if her life depended on it and nursed its hydrating contents while they neared the main chamber.

What initially seemed like a great idea to the Queen quickly revealed its complications once the pair reached the threshold of the hall and laid eyes on the sea of guests still in attendance. A gathered mass of dancing color and inscrutable dissonance that had only grown since the two royals made their exit, much to Mara’s horror and Sjur’s excitement.

“S-Sjuwrr…we shhhould…we ssshhhould go..back,” the trembling All-Sovereign’s eyes widened the moment they fell on the enormous quantity of people and she remembered that none of them could see her in her current state, and her dormant anxiety started flaring at the thought of being caught. She leaned back against her partner for some comfort, and silently pleaded for them to return to the safety and privacy of their room with a rarely used puppy stare.

“Maraaaaa, this wasshh…your ideeeeeaa. Come…on, no one…willl know!” the Wrath protested against her fiancée’s sudden fear and unfair use of the royal puppy stare. They had walked a long way from their chambers towards here, and she really did not want to walk all the way back because her Queen got cold feet at the very last moment.

“B-But…so many…too many. Too many, Sjur. T-Too MANY!” the Master of the Reef continued to protest, and with uncharacteristic terror and a girly scream she practically threw herself to the wall at her side to get out of the way of an approaching waitress. Sjur also noticed the woman’s approach, and calmly stepped out of her path, in complete contrast to her Lady’s rising panic.

“Mara. Girl. Baby…girl. Missy. Why are you so sssshcareeed? No one…can shee us. Your…your…your magic is…powerfullll. Aweshomeeee. Just…trust it. Trust…yourself. Go with the…fl-fl-flow,” the slurring Consort placed a hand on her Queen’s shoulder both to reassure and comfort her, and to also maintain her balance. But Mara did not need to know that last part. Sjur Eido was the stable foundation that would see them both through this ordeal, after all.

The Awoken Monarch lowered her gaze, and put effort into not swaying off to the side by grabbing on to her fiancée’s arm.

“I am…I am…I am not a…grrrrannnnyy. I can…p-parrty. Okay? I am not ol…ol…old. I can…I can…I can keep…upp,” she pouted and opened her water container. Mara took a quick sip out of it, but spilled some of the liquid on herself due to difficulties at controlling the movements of her hands.

Sjur temporarily snapped out of her inebriated stupor, and realized her teasy comment about her beloved’s age might have hit a bit too close to home. It did not matter that she meant it as a harmless jape if her partner had actually been hurt by it, and she now felt like an asshole for using that angle of attack to convince her to do something she maybe was not comfortable with in the first place.

“Hey…uh…wh-wh-what if we take a corner and jusshtt…chill there? We just…obsssherve! Yesss yesss, we…jusssht watchhh. Ssssshafe! Prrrivate. We see…the parrrtay, but we don't..paaaartici…pate,” the Wrath proposed as coherently as she could manage, for the entire bottle of Sjursfoil she had downed was still in the process of punching her in the face without relenting. And its stone-hard fists were as mighty as those belonging to its namesake.

The Queen immediately perked up from her pouting, her features relaxing with clear relief.

“Yessssssss. Yes yes yes yes! You are ssmaaaart! Lead the…w-w-w-waaaayy!” Mara exclaimed cheerfully before she grabbed the bottle of wine from Sjur’s hands and took a hearty swig of it, aiming to fill herself with some liquid courage before they set forth in their journey.

Sjur cheered and clapped her fiancée in the back, making sure to measure her strength so as to not knock her down to the floor, happy that her usually skittish Lady was starting to get into the groove of things. She grabbed Mara's hand, and the pair entered the main hall where the festivities were still very much lively and underway.

The Hygiea Philharmonic was out in full force, regaling all of the attendees with masterful, varied choices of music suited for the evolution of the party’s atmosphere. When the courtiers settled down and began to interact with each other, the music slowed down into a calming elegy that lent itself well to mingling and conversation. When someone got the sudden urge to waltz or dance and had the sufficient bravery to move to the center of the hall, the Philharmonic sped up their compositions and transformed them into energetic and lively melodies fit for revelry. An act that signaled to the rest of the cautious nobles that letting loose was safe and socially acceptable, and heralded the start of wild romps that quickly took over all other forms of celebrating.

Mara and Sjur carefully made their way around the corners of the glitzy hall, doing their best to avoid large concentrations of people and the myriads of tables and chairs that presented serious obstacles to their efforts. Between the incessant music, the loud talking and laughing of the celebrating nobility, the brilliant lights of the chandeliers above and magical lighting systems below, and the smells of the served banquet that the waiters were working overtime to keep restocked, it was easy for one to be disoriented when sober.

This was a particular challenge that was rendering the mere act of traversing the hall considerably difficult, which the Master of the Reef was in the process of finding out as her future Consort dragged her through a path she could scant understand, barely cognizant of her surroundings and overwhelmed by sensory input as she was.

To Mara, it seemed that with every blink of her eyes minutes passed. She blinked and they were entering the hall, another blink and they were passing in between some unoccupied tables, and with the next opening and closing of her heavy eyes they were in an isolated corner of the chamber, conveniently placed near one of the banquet trays. She had been staring at the floor the entire time, doing her best to not trip over herself or collapse on one of the very inviting chairs that were calling for her to fall asleep on them.

The world was spinning, and the Crownhead of the Sovereignty swore to herself that she would never drink the damned Sjursfoil again. She had made her point and earned her victory by not being knocked out cold unlike the last time she tried it, but the effects of active inebriation by that accursed brew her fiancée loved so much, for some reason neither her sober nor drunk self would ever understand, proved equally as fatal. She would just stick to her wine from then on, like any sane person would.

The pair suddenly stopped in their pilgrimage, and Mara had to tightly hug Sjur’s waist to avoid falling flat on her face as a result of the unexpected cessation of movement.

When she finally got her bearings, she noticed that her partner had a plate on one hand and another fresh bottle of wine in the other, with the old bottle already discarded on the floor beside her.

It was a good thing that her invisibility aura was designed to automatically envelop all items that entered its radius, else a courtier would have been bothered by the sight of a floating plate on its lonesome, the Custodian of the Awoken surmised and thanked herself for her foresight.

A tantalizing smell then wafted into Mara's nose, and she curiously looked at the contents of her partner’s plate in response. Cranberry glazed meatballs, the intoxicated royal realized as hunger quickly overtook her, and she had to restrain herself from being so obviously enticed by the food. A discreet cough was required for her to disguise her swallowing and keep her watering mouth under control.

Her Wrath noticed, because of course she did, and finished the meat she was chewing before she offered her the plate.

“Want some?” Sjur asked while she grabbed another meatball for herself by the small disposable fork that was stuck to it, and the Queen briefly considered.

Mara looked at the offered dish, then back at Sjur, and then back at the plate again, before she followed suit and grabbed a meatball for herself. Just one. Not because she wanted it or anything, no of course not, but only because Sjur had offered it to her and it would have been rude to refuse.

The future Consort smiled at her and playfully rolled her eyes, before she grabbed the fresh bottle of Vestian Cherry and handed it to her as well.

“For…laterrr. One for you..a-a-and oneeee…for meee,” Sjur slurred before retrieving the wine on the floor and taking a generous swig from it while winking at her Queen.

Mara said nothing as she slowly chewed the delightful meatball, but she raised one eyebrow at her fiancée, questioning her insistence that she was going to keep drinking after how imprudent she had already been. Sjur could certainly do it if she so wished, but she had limits.

“Ooooh. Look, M-Mawrraa. Isssh thaaat Ulllldrren and…Puh-Peh-Petrrra?” the Wrath squinted her eyes, still incapable of capturing clear images, but she nevertheless saw a suspiciously redheaded blur conversing with a man whose black-obsessed fashion sense made him difficult to make out.

The Master of the Reef’s attention was drawn back from the food by the comment, and she turned to the direction Sjur was looking at to confirm for herself. She was also incapable of seeing clearly, but the sensation in her soul was unmistakable. She could hear his twinned heartbeat, feel his emotions and easily pinpoint his presence in the sea of nobles and courtiers that filled the hall to the brim, like a shining beacon cutting through thick fog.

Mara gestured with her hands, albeit sloppily, and had to attempt the spell more than once for it to work. Once she finally got it, she snapped her fingers and the conversation he and Petra, or the woman she supposed was Petra if her red hair was any indication, became clear for them both to peep into.

“Oh, a pleasure to meet you Prince Uldren! I don’t think we have been formally introduced to each other. The name is Petra Venj. You probably already know that from the ceremony, but I thought you might appreciate hearing it from me.”

“A pleasure, Petra. We almost bumped into each other there. I would have kicked myself had our first time speaking been ruined by me spilling sangria all over your clothes.”

Sjur looked at Mara and let out a smile and a shrug before she took another drink from her Cherry. The Queen, for her part, grabbed herself another meatball and popped it in her mouth. The conversation was pretty standard, if pleasantly surprising. It was always good to see Uldren interacting with others and making acquaintances, and he seemed comfortable in the social environment that the festivities provided.

“Ah, yes. Sorry, that was my fault. I…uh...mistook you for a guard for a second there. You aren't exactly wearing ceremonial attire.”

“Don't blame you. You either mistook me due to my clothes, or because I’m so beefy.”

The All-Martyr brought both her hands to her face and facepalmed with blackest despair, cringing with every ounce of her being at her brother’s “suave” attempts to flirt with the attractive woman he had just met. The woman who was going to become the new Queen’s Wrath. The woman who had just arrived mere hours before to the Keep of Voices and was being introduced to the nobility. That woman, out of every single other one present all around him. Because of course he just had to home in on Petra Venj.

“Nooooooohohohohohohoho wahahahahay! Ahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahaha!” Sjur exploded into roaring laughter both over what she heard and her fiancée’s perfect reaction, which only furthered the Lady of Starlight’s desire to be killed by a thunderstrike then and there.

“Err…oh. Ohhhhhh. I see what you’re doing, Prince Charming! Well, unfortunately for you, my handsome sir, I am already accounted for.”

“Ah, such are my fortunes, eh? Well, at least you didn't slap me across the face, unlike the last courtly lady I tried that on.”

“Bahhhahahahahahahhahahahahahaha! Uhuhuhuldren shut uhuhuhuuup nohohohohohoho ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!” the Wrath kept laughing herself silly, in awe of the Prince’s unspoken, mythical, impeccable, immortalized by Esila, “charm.”

Mara, in complete contrast, had her mouth hanging half opened in disbelief. She wondered if what she was hearing was due to some sort of hallucinogenic property of the Sjursfoil that she had not been aware of before drinking it, for she could not accept that the horror she was bearing witness to was being committed by someone who shared her blood and last name. What this failure could say about her own charisma… no. She wasn't beloved by their people just because she was powerful and hardworking. No.

The future Consort only took one look at her beloved’s dumbfounded state, and that was enough for her to collapse into further hysterics.

The Awoken Monarch could not take the cruel and unusual punishment anymore, and she immediately grabbed the bottle of wine her partner had gotten for her, ripped its cork open with furious desperation, and began to quickly down its contents in order to drown her sorrows. The water thermos was abandoned on the floor to her side, completely forgotten in favor of the liquid amnesia the Queen needed above all else in that moment. 

“Wait, really? Oh come on, it wasn't thaaat bad. I mean, sure, we could improve your game a bit, but that wasn't slap worthy. I've heard plenty worse, believe me.”

“Well, I guess I will find success in romance someday. But until that time comes, I should probably polish my pickup lines. Just a touch.”

“Have no fear, my loveless Prince! Stick with ol’ Petra here, and we will find you a fair maiden in no time! You just need a bit of feminine touch, and the path to her heart will be made clear!”

“Heh, I will take you up on that offer, Wrath Successor. But why don't we move on from this sad affair and enjoy the festivities? The night is still young after all, and my Sister spared no expense in giving you the grand welcome that you deserve.”

“Pardon me, but I must simply butt in. Petra Venj, a pleasure to meet you. Cazoul Gahn, at your service.”

A third, unexpected and greatly unwelcome voice suddenly forced its way into the conversation.

Sjur stopped laughing the second she heard the repulsive man begin speaking to her successor, and Mara’s features contorted into a disgusted frown.

Cazoul Gahn, the corpulent baron who loomed over her brother and her future Wrath, was the noble the Queen most disliked out of the entirety of her court and its vast collection of interesting characters.

He was the patriarch of the noble House Gahn, and the head of Gahn Solutions, which was the conglomerate that developed and maintained much of the Dreaming City’s civilian infrastructure and associated commercial technologies. As a result, he was one of the top courtiers in terms of political power, influence, and connections to leverage, and he had been aiming at lobbying his way to the position of Dreaming City Administrator for quite some time, much to his ruler’s chagrin.

If the man had been competent, Mara would have had no reservations in trusting him with the position, but he was as regrettably stupid as he was pompous. The success of Gahn Solutions was due to the tireless effort of its employees and executives, and had nothing to do with the vain man at the top who believed himself royalty simply because he had something as fleeting as wealth.

She had been giving him the run around for some time, stalling his attempts at a private audience by slowing him down with made up committees, unending bureaucratic procedures, and the myriad of tools she had at her disposal to deal with troublesome nobles whom she couldn't dismiss through more direct means.

Unfortunately, Cazoul was as stubborn as he was obese, and he kept diligently wading through all the red tape she could muster, for he knew he would eventually catch up to her and force her to give him a direct answer on his ambition. A conversation that she preferred to never have, as her answer would be a resounding no, and she knew the aristocrat would not take the refusal well.

For his part, he was aware that she couldn't simply dismiss him from the Keep of Voices, because the alliances with other nobles he had cultivated throughout the years would kick into action if such an event ever happened, and the headache he would cause her was not worth getting rid of him. As such, he forewent court etiquette and engaged in petty behaviors that he understood ticked her off. Offenses that he could not be punished for due to his troublesome connections, and which she would simply have to endure for as long as he wanted to be a nuisance.

The Queen was still incredibly intoxicated, and the wine had not helped that matter at all, but her arcane sight was sharp as she saw the large blob of a man grab a piece of fatty pork from the tray of a waitress that was passing by, and take a large bite from the meat without any class or care for those he was speaking to. Through her connection to her brother, she felt the revulsion Uldren was feeling as grease dripped from Gahn’s devouring maw and down his large chin, and she could not stop herself from clenching her fists at the baron’s insolence.

“Miss Venj, is this man bothering you?”

“Excuse me?”

“N-No, Mr. Gahn. I…ah…thank you for your concern, but we were merely conversing.”

“Wrath Successor, I advise that you do not associate with Uldren Sov. This man is mentally disturbed, and is as much a danger to others as he is to himself. Come, let us speak privately. You will need allies in court, and I will be glad to tutor you in the best ways to navigate this political jungle.”

“Cazoul…mind…your manners. Need I remind you who my Sister is?”

“Of course I am aware, worthless little princeling. What will you do? Run off to her like you always do? Please, like she would even heed a single word that comes out of your mouth. She understands how much of a moron you are, which you seem to be ignorant to. Step aside, and let the adults do the talking for once in your life.”

Sjur covered her mouth in shock, the unthinkable events taking place before them enough to force the Foil to lift its influence, and she looked at Mara with concern. Concern that proved itself correct, for her Lady’s rising fury was palpable through their shared telepathic bond like magma beginning to bubble forth from a woken volcano.

Mara’s nostrils were flared, matching her heavy breaths that seemed less like they were meant to intake oxygen and more like the revving roars of a monstrous engine that was about to ignite. Her eyes were unblinkingly glaring at Gahn with white-hot scalding rage that made it extremely obvious to Sjur that her partner wanted to murder the man on the spot and lash his corpse with magic until nothing but ashes remained.

Her shaky hands were balled into tight fists, barely holding back her anger. Hands that the future Consort knew could vaporize the entire wing of the Keep of Voices with the swipe of a single finger if the Goddess of Starlight lost control of herself.

The All-Sovereign’s trembling lips parted to reveal a primal snarl that was not harmonious at all with the serene mask Sjur was so used to seeing on her. The wrathful monarch bared her clenched teeth and then slowly raised a luminous hand towards the insolent collection of refuse that called itself a man, which she had no patience for anymore and would wipe off the face of her Dreaming City, consequences be damned.

A whistling sound emanated from the Queen, before escalating into a shrieking crescendo that pierced the air and made Sjur’s hairs stand on their ends. The courtiers were none the wiser, thanks to the stealth aura concealing them both, but the piercing cry kept growing louder and louder with every beat of that hegemonic heart, as if it were a bomb counting down before exploding. 

Raw Paracausal power began to make reality’s invisible seams glow silver around the Master of the Reef, her eyes lit up with blinding Starlight, and her hair began to float as every molecule of her being drank from her enormous and deific ontological authority. Power she would bring crashing down on Cazoul Gahn, and she would make sure that he understood the might of Mara Sov and everything her name meant in the milliseconds it took for him to die by her hand.

“Mara, stop!” the ironically-titled Wrath stopped her fiancée from committing a grave mistake by grabbing her raised hand and interrupting her mid-spell.

What had…happened during the last few seconds? What…what had she almost done?

The Awoken Monarch’s power was released, and she snapped out of her rage-blinded state as quickly as she had entered it. Mara took deep breaths and counted to ten, like Sjur had taught her, realizing how she had almost lost control of herself and being deeply ashamed by the fact. Whether it was because of the alcohol or not, it did not matter. This was not acceptable behavior for someone of her responsibility. Even more so when she remembered what had happened with the Paladins the day before.

“We…have to do…sssomething,” the Lady of Starlight slurred out once she felt her brother’s pain and grief tightening his chest, like a hot knife that had been freshly thrust into her own flesh.

“Agreed, but…don’t kill him,” the future Consort carefully de-escalated, very much aware of how close her beloved had come to falling into that particular abyss.

Getting away with it would be but a trifle. And it would not be the first time either, Mara mused to herself while formulating an alternative way to deal with Gahn that did not involve murdering him herself, arranging his death and making it look like an accident, or sending a Hunter Killer to snipe him in his residence on the quiet of one night, as tempting as all of those options were in that moment.

Sjur read her Queen's thoughts through their telepathic bond, and she swallowed and shivered at the cold-blooded retribution her partner was capable of delivering without second thoughts being spared. It was not like she thought her Lady was a saint of any sort, hell she herself certainly wasn't one, but it was still no less discomforting to listen to.

“What the hell is wrong with you?! He is the Prince, and you will show him respect!”

“Come on, Miss Venj, what does he have that I am incapable of bestowing upon you? Measure your response carefully, for I am not someone you want as an enemy. I say this for your own goo- GAH!”

The Custodian of the Awoken had a raised hand that she had just viciously slapped through the air, her glove removed in order to feel the impact of arcana against face for herself. The magic she was channeling inflicted the same assault upon her target, and Cazoul’s cheek was left red and bleeding by the force of the strike that nearly knocked him to the floor and blew out his teeth. The first salvo fired, Mara grabbed her bottle of Vestian Cherry, took a hearty swig from it, and readied herself for more.

“You little SHITS! Who is responsible for this insolence?! I am Cazoul Gahn, patriarch of House Gahn, and you will NOT treat me like- OOMPH!”

Another conjured slap landed on the baron's previously untouched cheek and left a visible shockwave in its wake. The attack sent the large man reeling backwards as he stumbled to maintain his balance, and this time a generous helping of molars was sent flying from his mouth and stained the polished marble floors with blood. Mara wickedly grinned, took another drink from the bottle, and prepared the coup de grâce.

“Was that your doing, Petra?”

“Not at all, but I wish the idea had been mine!”

“Well then, I guess we have a hidden benefactor!”

Sjur was grinning from ear to ear while she beheld the glorious spectacle her monarch was conducting. A spirited performance that was starting to catch the attention of the rest of the courtiers who stopped dancing and mingling and turned to look at Gahn, who was bleeding profusely from his mouth. Royal Guards began to move into the hall, and Mara knew that she had to act quickly to spare her brother and the Wrath Successor from any pesky consequences.

The Queen took aim with her index finger, albeit with difficulty due to the fact that the world was spinning and her head was in the grips of the wine bottle she had nearly emptied, and flicked it once she had locked in on Cazoul’s wig. An insulting mane of fake silver hair, fashioned after her own layered bob as if it would somehow ingratiate him to her, that she hated with every fiber of her being and which she knew was also used to cover his balding head.

The wig poofed out of existence, and Cazoul panickedly tried to cover his now exposed head, forgetting all about his injury and worriedly looking at the courtiers that now surrounded him. Nobles who started whispering and gossiping between themselves as they beheld the unsightly state of the shrinking aristocrat and his tasteless attempt at shamefully hiding his baldness. An insult to the many hairless leaders and champions of Vesta who embraced their look and wore it with elegance and pride.

Mara smirked to herself, for she had just weaponized the pointless intrigues and superficial concerns her courtiers breathed with the same hunger that lungs do oxygen, and turned them against the man who deserved it above all others.

“Prince Uldren, what has happened? Are you unharmed?”

A Royal Guard approached the Master of Crows, and Mara seized her chance to deliver a killing blow, metaphorically speaking, to Cazoul and finally rid herself of the nuisance he presented.

Her eyes twinkled with Starlight, and she formed a one way telepathic bridge between herself and the soldier.

With a thought, the Queen transmitted the entirety of the conversation she had secretly listened in on to the guard, and made sure to highlight the insults Gahn had slung towards her brother. Insults he had felt so safe in uttering, because she was not within the hall. Or so he thought. The unfortunate truth that she would delight in reminding him once he was brought to her throne room and she decided on whether or not to exile him from the Keep of Voices, was that she had eyes and ears everywhere, and she would have known sooner or later. His luck had simply ran out, and the devil always got her due.

The Royal Guard flinched and touched her head as the transfer of information progressed, and once it was done she activated the comms array on her helmet and called for assistance.

“Requesting backup. Suspect is accused of gravely disparaging the Queen’s honor and abusing the grace and privileges that have been extended to him.”

A squadron of Royal Guards soon burst through the various entrances to the Central Wing, and closed the ring around Cazoul. The baron looked extremely nervous as his world crumbled all around him, and Mara allowed herself to indulge in a menacing laugh before she took another long drink from her wine bottle and savored the show. Sjur wrapped an arm around her beloved and clinked her own Cherry with hers, laughing alongside the All-Sovereign while they enjoyed the front seat to Cazoul Gahn’s long awaited fall.

The soldiers clapped the doomed man in shackles and hauled him off towards the palace dungeons where he would await the Lady of Starlight’s judgement, and he screamed his head off and pleaded for his innocence all the way until his voice disappeared into the endless halls of the Keep of Voices. Once he was gone, the Philharmonic roared to life once more and the nobles resumed their activities, as if Gahn had never existed at all in their minds.

“HAHAH! FFFFFFFFFFFFFuck you, assshole!” the Crownhead of the Sovereignty loudly cheered and drank the remaining contents of her wine bottle, stumbling back into her Wrath’s readied arms once the liquor claimed its due and made her lose her balance.

“WOOOOO! That’s m-m-my…Queen! You sshhhhhhowed…him!” Sjur tightly hugged the woman she would one day proudly call her wife before she sipped from her bottle in celebration, and then gave it to Mara so she could also praise Bacchus and let her worries slip away.

“Ohhhhohohoh! I am…am…am going to…kick him o-o-out of couurrrrt. And and and and then! And then…sssttrrrip him off aaaaaallllll hisss titlesss. And! And and and nationalizeeeee…hissshh…commmmpanyyy!” Mara slurrily listed off the ideas she had at the ready for Gahn after she took a swig of the wine and passed it back to Sjur. A package of punishments that she had been itching to put into action the second he gave her enough reason, but had not managed to find justification enough for until this moment.

Thankfully, the baron had graciously gift-wrapped himself for his Queen, and she would not waste the opportunity to finally extirpate the irritating thorn in her side that he had been for years. And best of all, she would be extremely surprised if a fraction of his allies came to his succor now, because the self-serving nobles would surely distance themselves from him in order to avoid the taint the Gahn name now carried.

“Hahahahahahaha! That's perrrrrrfect, girl!” the future Consort threw her head back laughing once the bottle of Cherry was finally finished, infected by her partner’s relief and happiness and greatly elated to see this side of the usually controlled monarch come out.

“Well, at least he won't be a problem anymore. I apologize for that, Petra. That was a remarkably poor showing on part of our court. Hopefully the night has not been soured for you.”

“Don't worry, it's not my first time dealing with his type. Say, would you mind if I introduce you to someone? She’s been a bit shy so far, keeping to the outskirts of the hall and all. I think meeting you could ease her spirits a bit and get her to mingle.”

“Of course. Who would this…ah...fair maiden be?”

“Techeun Aspirant, her name is Sjari. I’m warning you though, she's mine. So you better keep your grubby little mitts off of her, you hear Prince Charming?”

“Heh, wouldn't dare. I have a feeling you might shoot me if I tried.”

“Oh yeah, and trust me, that is much worse than being slapped.”

“Hey…M-M-Maraaaa. I…uh…have an…uh…an…idea,” Sjur patted her Queen’s back as Uldren and Petra walked away from the spell’s radius.

“Uh…huh? What…isshh it?" the Master of the Reef turned to look at her partner with half closed eyes that she was trying her damndest to maintain open, and she placed a hand on her future Consort’s shoulder to keep herself standing. Finishing a whole bottle of Vestian Cherry by herself sounded like the right call but a few moments ago, and she was now starting to pay the price of her incredible stupidity. But then again…one night of letting herself be stupid was no crime.

“Rrrrrivennnnn. We go…see…her!” the Wrath, who was still capable of speech by some miracle Mara could not replicate, proposed her brilliant idea.

“But…whyy? Whyy…Rivennn? It’s not…ssshhafe,” the Lady of Starlight tilted her head in confusion, because she still had some of her wits about her and knew this was a terrible suggestion without needing any further explanation.

“Causeee…she's cool! Dragonnnn that grants…wishesshh. Come onnn, jusshht a peek!” Sjur elaborated on her cunning escapade, and it seemed that she had not only finally reached the limit of her alcohol tolerance, but blown right past it.

The All-Sovereign raised an eyebrow over her beloved’s curious blabbering, for she had always thought her fiancée hated Ahamkara with all her heart. And it was not an uninformed supposition about Sjur Eido to make, for she was remarkably effective at hunting them down and had rightfully earned her reputation as the greatest huntress of Wish-Dragons in not only all of Awoken society, but probably in the entirety of the Sol System as well.

Perhaps the truth about her partner was more complex, and she actually admired the fearsome beasts to a certain degree. Like old Ahab ’s reverence for the great white whale he was beholden to chase to the ends of the Earth.

Still, the idea was stupid, and drunk out of her mind as she was, she still knew better than to humor Sjur. However, right as she was about to firmly say no, her Wrath intercepted her thoughts through their shared bond and made an offer that she could not refuse.

“Ill sssshhtop…pestering you…abouuuut her. I’ll acceptttt…you…keeping herrrr!”

Mara blinked, and brought a numbed hand to her chin as she considered the offer. Sjur was relentless when it came to their debates about whether or not it was safe to keep Riven in her enclosure. Her partner’s steadfast position, ever since she educated herself on the dangers of Wish-Dragons and completed her first hunt, had been to have her culled.

It was a measure that the Master of the Reef was opposed to and had always rejected every time it was brought up, but that did not mean the Wrath became even slightly less spirited in vouching for it.

If she could finally get Sjur to cease with her merciless opposition, and all she had to do was take her to Riven for just a brief glance, then she would be a moron to refuse.

“…Fine. B-But we go…back. To…the roooom. Bathroom…water…no m-m-more…winee,” the Custodian of the Awoken wagged her index finger at her partner, whom she was currently seeing four of. They had both gotten very carried away with their drinking, and needed to recover somewhat before their final stop of the night.

“Sssshhure! Give meee…yourrwwrrr hand.”

Mara did so, and Sjur took off with speed she was not prepared for and almost caused her to empty out her stomach all over the fancy floors.

The future Consort dragged the delirious All-Sovereign outside of the Central Wing with swiftness and dexterity that should have been impossible to manage for a person as intoxicated as she was, and the royal pair made their way back to their chambers in order to prepare for the expedition that awaited them.

***

The Queenswalk, Keep of Voices, The Dreaming City

The royal couple approached the silent and isolated chamber, which one could have mistaken for an abandoned wing of the Keep of Voices due to its eerie solitude.

Between the water, bathroom stops, and the long walk that had been necessary to get to this portion of the fortress that was the royal residence, Mara had sobered up considerably.

Sjur was now the one leaning on her for balance, because the inhuman amounts of liquor she had consumed throughout the night would never let up their assault on her brain as easily as it had for the Queen, and hoisting the taller and heavier woman up had almost slowed their pilgrimage down to a crawl.

The Wrath was so intoxicated in fact, that the moment they entered their shared chambers and sat on the bed to rest, she practically begged her Lady for coitus.

Sjur was stubborn, and Mara had to distract her from her lusty desires by reminding her of their coming expedition to see the Wish-Dragon. Under normal circumstances she would have complied with the lecherous requests, but she had a hunch that any activities of that kinky nature would have ended up with either herself or Sjur vomiting on the bed, which was an outcome she had exactly zero desire to tempt. Would have killed the mood faster than Cazoul breaking into their room to join in.

Something told the All-Sovereign that her piss-drunk partner would not have a single memory of the night the next morning, and that perhaps her promise to stop protesting Riven’s existence would be completely forgotten and go unfulfilled.

Still, it was worth a shot, and as long as they kept their visit short there would be little risk. And in the very least, the long walk to the enclosure and back to their chambers would be enough to get her fiancée to process the alcohol.

An acceptable prize nonetheless, for Mara would not get a wink of sleep as long as Sjur remained drunk. Her Wrath would want to keep playing games and enjoying the festivities, hour be damned, even if they both became little but sleep-deprived corpses as a result. While a fifteen minute nap and a cup of coffee would be enough to carry her Consort through the day, matters of rest were not so easily solved for the Queen. Maybe she was…actually starting to get old.

The pair soon approached an arcane seal carved into the dusty alabaster floor, which would open into an elevator that they could use to descend into the depths of the enclosure.

Riven, after having fed on so many of the wishes Mara had asked of her throughout the centuries, had become an enormous beast, so different from the small whim Uldren brought to her all those years into the past.

As a result, her enclosure eventually necessitated expansions to accommodate her growing size, and large underground chambers were excavated and refurbished for her use. Mara was as wary of Ahamkara as anyone who had a modicum of wisdom would naturally be, but she still knew Riven was a sapient being. She was not a monster capable of exiling a thinking creature such as her into an empty hole and then throwing away the key forever, willfully neglecting her needs.

The Wish-Dragon’s enclosure, aptly named the Queenswalk because the All-Sovereign was usually the only visitor permitted to enter it and interact with Riven, was spacious enough to allow the beast to move freely within her space and physically exercise. The Master of the Reef had even created multiple chambers and divided the space into various levels of floors, so that Riven could climb through its length and comfortably rest where she desired.

However, the Lady of Starlight frowned once she smelled the musk of neglect in the air, and saw that the collection of plants and trees she had planted in the enclosure’s gardens were long dead and withered.

It had been…long since she had required a wish from Riven, and her visits to the dragon had become a rarity in the present day. She would have to thoroughly clean the enclosure however, and replace the dead foliage. Such a lack of care did not reflect well on her person, but she would have to complete that task another day. Sjur was in no state to stay for long in this space, and while she herself had sobered up considerably, it still did not mean she was fully recovered.

Mara knew Riven had already sensed the pair’s arrival, for Ahamkara used their telepathic abilities to read their bargainer's thoughts and guess their wants. Even if a petitioner didn't vocalize their desire to the Wish-Dragon, the creature could pluck it from their mind and grant it anyways without their consent.

It was for this reason that the Awoken Monarch did not trust anyone but herself to hold audiences with Riven, and the Queenswalk was normally off limits to all but its namesake.

One had to be of clear mind and doubtless self-discipline when in the presence of a Wish-Dragon, and while she had enough confidence in her own ability to safely handle herself for some time, her Wrath was another story.

Remember Sjur, master your thoughts, she told her beloved through their own telepathic bond, out of serious caution.

The Wrath nodded, and gave a shaky thumbs up to her Lady in attempted assurance.

Under normal circumstances, the future Consort would not have needed such a reminder, for she had slain countless Ahamkara and was as close to an expert in their capabilities as the Queen herself was.

But of course, this was anything but a normal circumstance.

Mara took a breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and calmed her rising nerves.

She would trust both herself and Sjur, and would go with the flow, as her partner had put it. Their visit to the Central Wing had gone off without complications, and this visit would as well.

The two royals stepped into the arcane seal, and they began their descent as the floor disappeared from underneath them and their long drop was slowed down by magic.

They fell to a great chasm, and below, wrapped around a titanic egg-shaped crystal that floated in the middle of the cavernous space, the Wish-Dragon waited for the pair.

Mara winced, she had never gotten used to this particular drop, and she clutched her stomach as her nausea threatened to return and her vertigo hit her with a vengeance.

Sjur, in contrast, yelled happily and had her arms stretched to her sides, feeling the stagnant air rush around her before she looked at Riven with awe and wondrous glints in her eyes.

"Wooooooo! Look, Mara, she's got wings now!" the future Consort gleefully exclaimed and grinned at the echo her voice produced once it bounced off the deep edges of the enclosure and back to her.

Wings? Mara looked at Riven's enormous corpulence as they passed by her side, like two miniscule dots next to a continent.

Riven turned her basilisk-shaped head, which had its bone plates closed shut and hid her face, towards the pair in recognition of their arrival, and she crawled from her crystal and into a nearby hole in an amethyst wall. The beast slid through the opening like a gecko through the bottom of a door, and disappeared from view while she readied herself for an audience.

She had no wings, the Custodian of the Awoken mused to herself as she thought of Riven's chosen disguise.

Wish-Dragons tended to craft memetic mirages around themselves, in order to alter and mold their appearance to the expectations of their petitioner.

What she saw was the form the Ahamkara had always chosen to wear for their private audiences. A slender reptile, with translucent silver skin. Four limbs, with large, four-fingered paws. Retractable, tentacle-like appendages extending out of her neck, ending in great bony points that could easily skewer a person should she be angered.

To Mara, Riven had always resembled an alien lizard more than any sort of dragon, and she was quite familiar with what a dragon was supposed to look like. Tolkien made them out to be much more elegant than they truly were, that was for sure.

She knew that this was because Riven sensed her unimpressed opinions towards her kind, and the Wish-Dragon crafted a more honest visage for her, in contrast to the purposefully grand masquerades Ahamkara tended to employ with other, more easily manipulated petitioners.

It was frankness that she appreciated from the beast, because it meant that the dragon understood very well that her wishes were purposeful and careful, and not at all the impulse-driven desires that many foolishly approached Ahamkara with. As such, Riven did not waste the All-Sovereign’s time with useless flattery, and their meetings went straight to the point.

In contrast to her, Sjur must have seen the Ahamkara with a set of magnificent wings, as Riven likely molded herself to her expectation and became a dragon in the literal sense.

That…did not bode well. It meant that Riven already knew her beloved wanted to see her, and was able to detect the begrudging admiration for Ahamkara that she harbored within her heart.

Subtle manipulation that told the Lady of Starlight that the Wish-Dragon wanted to feast upon wishes that night and was already laying the groundwork for a potential boon, courtesy of her drunk fiancée.

The pair softly landed at the bottom of the chasm, and they found themselves perched on a sapphire balcony overlooking an even deeper abyss. The great crystal egg floated just above their heads, and the circular design of the amethyst floor led to various chambers to the sides of the enclosure.

Riven was waiting within one of these chambers, but Mara started questioning if this was a good idea at all. It was not too late to turn back, and technically her Wrath had already gotten what she wanted, which was to see the Wish-Dragon.

But before she could make up her mind, Sjur grabbed her arm and started leading them both into the Ahamkara’s chosen audience chamber. 

Well, here it came.

The royal couple entered through the gilded doorway, and descended down a set of cobalt steps. In front of them was a great window into the emptiness that surrounded the enclosure, and Mara felt Riven beginning to approach the opening. Felt her, because the crystal walls started to shake with each of her great movements.

Remember, no wishing. No wanting. Control your thoughts, the Master of the Reef reminded her future Consort yet again.

Sjur was practically bouncing up and down with excitement despite her warnings, and the Queen had to take yet another deep breath to calm herself down. Her every instinct was telling her that this was an incredibly stupid idea, but it was too late. They had crossed the Rubicon, and now she would have to conduct herself with stately coolness in front of the ontological predator and navigate the coming interaction with care.

Reptilian chittering sounds emerged from the window, and before long Riven’s titanic head pushed forward through the hole. She shook her head from side to side, in a motion that was the equivalent to a Human stretching out their arms after a long slumber, causing the retracted tentacles in her neck to flop like fins belonging to a great aquatic being.

A pair of large paws, whose each individual claw was longer than Sjur was tall, emerged through the window next, and got comfortable underneath her head.

The Ahamkara produced an alien vocalization which was a mix between a child’s whimpering and a komodo dragon’s roar that bounced off the crystalline walls of the chamber, before she started to speak directly into her petitioners’ minds.

+- A Queen Absolute finds herself in my presence -+

The dragon addressed Mara with Petra’s voice, freshly plucked out of her mind. A habit of the beast that the Queen had no love for, for she knew it was an attempt at unsettling her and making her an easier target for negotiation. The Custodian of the Awoken noticed how the tone and inflections in the used voice were slightly off, as if Riven were getting used to the new addition in her arsenal of thousands and was just learning how to elocute with it in a convincing manner.

+- And my executioner is here as well. Am I to die tonight, o Majesty mine? -+

Riven tilted her head as she addressed Sjur and spoke with the Dreaming Pathfinder's own voice, stripped of its gentle soul and turned menacing. The Wish-Dragon was very well aware of the Wrath’s actions against her kind, and likely suspected that her presence was a potential harbinger for her demise.

Sjur Eido, the great terror of all Ahamkara in the Solar System, looked at Riven with awe, her mouth half opened in wonder over the regal form the dragon had to surely have chosen to enthrall her. An expression that almost no Ahamkara had ever seen from the future Consort, for their “meetings” with her usually were the last things they ever experienced before leaving the mortal coil. Save for Huginn and Muninn, who had been the only Wish-Dragons to have ever found kindness in Sjur Eido and even struck what could have been considered a friendship before she put them down at the onset of the Great Hunt. 

“No, Dreamer of a Thousand Voices. Our accord yet stands, and I am not one to break my promises without sufficient reason to do so. We passed by to check in on you, for it has been quite some time since we last spoke. I apologize for the state of your home, and pledge to provide more routine maintenance to it,” the Queen was respectful in her answering of the Wish-Dragon’s inquiry. She was relieved by her own ability to speak coherently, and realized Sjur had the right idea all along. Acting sober was a skill that showed its value in situations such as this one.

+- It has been long indeed. Even paradise is a prison, when one cannot leave -+  

This time Riven spoke with Mara’s own voice. An uncomfortable parody of her regal words. A soft tone that hung on to every syllable with thickened nectar and disarming soothing, but let just enough bitter venom be detected in every pause that mimicked a breath. The Ahamkara made sure to draw out every word for as long as she could in order to enhance the tension to a knife’s edge, and the All-Sovereign frowned while she imagined her own visage emoting and gesticulating with exaggeration, so unlike her own measured self, with each letter the Wish-Dragon mockingly produced.

“You are free to leave whenever you please, but I mustn't remind you of what fate awaits you outside the safety of my Reef,” the Lady of Starlight answered the dragon’s anger with a pointed reminder that their accord was mutually beneficial.

If Riven somehow fled her enclosure and escaped the Reef, she would effectively sign her own death warrant. Not only because Sjur would immediately be sent after her in order to protect the Awoken’s secrets, but also because the Guardians would destroy her upon making first contact.

There was a time when Wish-Dragons were sought after by the Lightbearers, but that era had long passed. The Great Ahamkara Hunt of years prior had put an end to those aspirations, and marked each and every single one of the beasts for elimination should they be discovered.

Wish-Dragons could only find one safe haven in the entirety of the Sol System after the Guardians began that wholescale purge, and that safe haven was the Dreaming City. Her Dreaming City. A fact that Riven knew very clearly.

+- Your words imply that I have a choice. Power is valuable, and unique power even more so. Spare us both the falsehoods, o bargainer mine -+

Ah, so the charade was finally over then.

Riven kept using Mara’s voice to throw her hospitality back at her, and the Queen realized she was negotiating with an entity of equal understanding.

Ever since Uldren brought her Riven as a whim fresh out of her egg, Mara had made an effort to cultivate a bond with the growing Ahamkara. She fondly remembered the many long afternoons when she laughed at her riddles as she sat under the shade of her body. The nights when she brought her different books from her collection to teach her about Human culture and history. The days of planning and discussion with her Coven, as Riven tried to make sense of her complicated wishes and with assistance of the Techeuns manipulated the laws of reality to give way to her sensitive plans.

It was all a calculated relationship, of course, because it was wise for her to be in good standing with the granter of her wishes. Even when they shared moments of genuine friendship, the reality was that their relationship was mainly a transactional one, and could never be anything else.

Mara knew all of this, but something made her feel a pang of regret in her heart all the same. Pain for the loss of someone that she considered somewhat of a friend, even if that had never been her intention in the first place. Perhaps the long period of solitude between her last wish and the present had made Riven realize that she had been fooled from the very beginning, and stripped away all pretenses of commonality between the two of them.

But before the Awoken Monarch could continue following the thread of those thoughts, she silenced them and focused on what her answer would be.

Why was she humanizing the Wish-Dragon? Perhaps she was not as sober as she thought she was.

“Yes, you have no choice. There are binding seals placed in every inch of this enclosure, ones that you have likely detected by now. Here, you get to live and feed. Outside, you die and starve,” the Master of the Reef stated matter-of-factly.

Riven had dropped all pretenses and used the “o mine” phrase on her multiple times in this one exchange, and if that was the game she wanted to play, then Mara would answer with equal harshness.

That phrase was a powerful ontological tool that Ahamkara utilized to ensare their would-be wishers. A rewriting of narrative authority that forced a bond between the Wish-Dragon and their target. Three words that embodied familiarity, comfort, mutual benefit, and cordial understanding.

Three words that the Queen felt on the outskirts of her mind, attempting to entice her to wish.

By addressing her with the title of “bargainer,” Riven was beginning to force upon her the narrative role of a wisher. A sweet proposal that many fell for once their vulnerable souls instinctually assumed the offered part, for they felt that it was what they needed to do. As if it was somehow right, predestined, and every event of their lives had led them to that moment and it naturally needed to be seized.

Mara Sov shrugged off the attempted manipulation.

Beings such as her decided their own fates, after all.

+- Will you wish? -+

Riven made one final attempt, her hunger for desire salivating at the prospect of a meal, and the predator within her emerged.

This time, the dragon chose a voice she had never dared utilize in her many audiences with her royal partner.

She…had not just done that…

A tender sound that opened up a hollow space in the Queen’s stomach, and caused a warm pain to erupt from her chest and wash over her entire body. A comforting sound that blew through Mara’s every attempt to keep her stoic mask up, to maintain her poise and fortitude, and caused her lower lip to tremble with fresh sorrow and regret. A dearly missed sound that brought back a flood of unwanted memories and suppressed emotions that the Lady of Starlight thought she had finally mastered after eons of separation.

She…had not…

A voice that Mara could not believe Riven had the audacity to use on her, and which was the one weapon the dragon could wield to actually hurt her. A blow that was the lowest of the low, and which she would never forgive the Ahamkara for.

For that voice belonged to one woman in particular.

Osana Sov.

Mara’s mother, left behind in the Distributary, never to be seen again.

“This exchange…is finished,” the All-Sovereign slowly growled, trying her hardest to hold back the disarming wave of emotions pouring out from her heart and the tears beginning to pool behind her eyes. In that moment she did not know if she wanted to weep, or scream, or kill the dragon in a fit of all-consuming rage, or all of them combined.

All she knew was that she needed to keep herself restrained and under control, and immediately leave the Queenswalk with Sjur.

“We are leaving,” Mara whispered through clenched teeth before she angrily grabbed her partner, who was still infuriatingly intoxicated and had stood there like an imbecile while the Ahamkara drove a poisoned spear through her heart, and began dragging her out of the audience chamber by a tightly grasped hand.

However, right as the two were about to leave through the gate, Riven’s long serpentine tongue emerged from her mouth, and she emitted a pleased roar that echoed off the opaline walls.

The organ glowed with bright white wish magic, as the Ahamkara had tasted the air and found purchase on one particular fertile mind that would harbor her power. Her jaws clamped shut around causality's jugular, the atmosphere inside the chamber began to undulate and roil, like if they were all submerged underwater and were bracing for a rapidly-approaching whirlpool.

Mara’s eyes widened with panic once she saw the dragon begin her ritual, and she grabbed Sjur by the shoulders and started fiercely shaking her back and forth, as if she could force the alcohol out of her brain and get her to return and explain herself in the few seconds they had left.

“WHAT DID YOU WISH FOR?!!” the Awoken Monarch got right up in her beloved’s face and yelled, blinding power filling the entirety of the room and reality’s pillars groaning and straining against the Wish-Dragon. Sjur, disoriented both by the overwhelming aura and by her beloved’s furious questioning, could do nothing but stupidly smile at her Queen and shrug her shoulders.

Riven’s faceplate opened, and her ten beady eyes became charged with Paracausality once the gaping hole that was her mouth, filled with endless rows of needle sharp teeth, consumed the gap between Reality-as-Was and Reality-as-Was-Wanted.

A wave of argent exploded out from the dragon’s maw and quickly began to engulf the entirety of the audience chamber, and Mara hugged Sjur tightly and closed her eyes as she braced for the magic, knowing full well that her beloved easily could have accidentally wished for her own death and that was the last time she would see her.

***

The first thing that Mara realized once the power subsided and she was able to see again, was that Sjur was still alive, much to her everlasting relief.

The second thing she saw was that the future Consort was currently fast asleep on a luxurious bed, cuddling a large teddy bear and snoring as if this were the most rejuvenating slumber she had gotten in her entire life.

The third thing she noticed was that she was currently trapped. One of Riven’s tentacles was wrapped around her body and hoisted her up in the air, leaving only her head and feet exposed.

Feet that were noticeably bare, with her discarded shoewear neatly placed on top of a nightstand to the side of her sleeping Wrath’s bed, like proudly displayed trophies.

The Queen immediately tried teleporting away from Riven’s grip, but found that her magic had no effect. She next gestured with her hands, crushingly bound as they were, and aimed to send a blast of incapacitating power aimed straight at the dragon's head. But nothing happened again, much to her rising worry. The wish must have asked that she be trapped and incapable of escape by her own means.

Mara swallowed as the cool temperature of the enclosure kissed her now exposed soles, and the tip of Riven’s tentacle slowly approached her vulnerable extremities. The horn-like appendage was wreathed in translucent wish magic and it wiggled menacingly while it approached, causing a pearl of sweat to fall down the royal forehead and for the queenly stomach to drop with dread.

"Riven, you will set me free this instant," the All-Sovereign commanded the Ahamkara, but was careful enough in her wording and her thoughts to avoid wishing for her freedom or demanding it in any way that the dragon could use to her advantage.

If Riven put her down in that moment, she would forgive the offense the beast had committed earlier when she used her mother's voice, and would make sure to modify the enclosure to make it more comfortable for its occupier.

Mara was aware that Riven was listening in to her thoughts, but the Wish-Dragon gave no indication that the offer had been considered as the tip of the tentacle kept approaching her feet.

Knowing Sjur’s tastes, the Custodian of the Awoken was aware of exactly what type of sensation that horn was going to inflict on her once it made contact. Out of options, Mara braced for what was coming and used the precious few seconds of lucidity she had left in her to curse the Universe, scrunching up her toes to protect herself as much as she could.

Was this a joke? Had Sjur really wished for this idiocy? Was this a dream, and she was actually passed out in her room, knocked out by the Foil? Was this really happening to her? Now? Here? Of all places? Really?

The tentacle made contact with one of her soles, and the Lady of Starlight’s eyes bulged out in response to the extreme tickling sensation that shot up from her foot and threatened to extract forced hilarity out of her tightly sealed lips.

“MMMMMMMFFF!” roaring laughter slammed against the gates of the Queen's clenched teeth, and almost broke through in the second that the tip of the tentacle touched her right sole.

There was no logic behind the hellishly ticklish sensation that the mere graze of the horn inflicted upon her. It was an enormous appendage made of bone, not at all suited to delivering torment of that type. Had Riven conjured a hand to scratch and spider all over the bottoms of her feet, she would have understood. Or had she summoned a tool of similar capability, like the devastating hairbrush she had used on Sjur the night before, it would have been very clear why she was crumbling so easily. Poetic, almost.

But no, the tentacle simply touched the bottom of her right ped, and stayed there without moving or attempting to do anything else. The sensations were unbearable regardless, like if the appendage had become a generator of tickling current that was applied directly to the nerves under her skin. An effect whose only explanation was magic, and which Mara was to be subjected to without any way to defend herself.

The All-Sovereign forcefully shut her eyes close and fiercely bit her lip to prevent herself from cackling like a maniac. She rapidly shook her head from side to side in order to vent her ticklish panic in a way that wouldn't immediately doom her, and tried wiggling and moving as much as Riven's bindings allowed her to. The assaulted foot had its toes scrunched up as tightly as she could muster, and her untouched ped tried to kick the bony appendage away from its target, to no avail.

And yet despite her best efforts, a cascade of snickering, chortling and stifled laughing broke through the cracking gates of her mouth, much to her despair.

Being tickled by Sjur was one thing, for she was her romantic partner and the one person she trusted with her kinks. This was completely another.

Until then, Riven had seen her the same way her subjects saw her. Mara Sov, the unreadable stateswoman who always kept her every movement and word calculated, purposeful, and most importantly, under control. Whose expression could as easily enchant as it could terrify. A woman of enormous, deific power, who could decide the fates of millions with a wave of her hand, and who could break enemy civilizations with nothing but a curt command.

She, who had waltzed with death and won time and time again. She, who had danced with fate and denied it its design, for she would define her purpose for herself and make it law. She, who had taken her people from their perfect pocket universe of origin to fight the Darkness, who was the greatest opponent Humanity, or any other race in all of existence for that matter, would ever face. She, who had everything served at the palm of her hand and cast it away for a mission nobler than any other purpose she could conceive. She, who prospected the unknown and expanded the borders of the possible. She, who had communed with a Wish-Dragon for centuries and not once had a petition backfire on her, when countless others had failed and lost their lives to their very first bargain.

She was all of these things and more.

She was Mara Sov!

But Riven was now seeing a side of her that was only meant for Sjur, and the incredible shame she was feeling was as debilitating as the unceasing tickling that forced her lips into a strained smile, so inadequate and incompatible with the mixture of fury and humiliation she was feeling.

The one dignity she had left was to deny Riven her laughter. The Ahamkara probably didn't even know what tickling was or understood the severity of the violation being inflicted on her, and the haphazard method of torture being employed told Mara as much. She would not give her the victory of breaking down into hysterics, and she would hold for as long as was necessary to formulate some sort of escape.

And in that very instant that the Queen pledged to not howl, the Wish-Dragon started slowly dragging the tip of the tentacle up the bottom of her foot.

"MMMMMMMFFFFFFAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The moment the enchanted horn decided to trace the length of her sole, Mara threw her head back and exploded into demented cackling, for the impulse to laugh that the simple motion induced on her was as overpowering and impossible to deny as the Sun’s gravity was to an orbiting celestial.

"RIVEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEN BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOP HAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHP AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

+- Freedom could be yours, if only you wished it -+

This time, Riven spoke with Uldren's voice, and the Wish-Dragon's tongue came out once again, slithering like a sensor locked into a target’s emitting signals. The Ahamkara tasted the air and her basilisk head approached the captive monarch as she laughed her dignity away, for there existed a gap between What-Was and What-Was-Wanted .

Mara immediately ceased her frenzied demands, keenly aware of the mistake she had almost committed, and silenced any further thought she had on the matter. For once, being as ticklish as she was could be a benefit, for she could easily lose herself in the potent currents dominating her everything and neutralize all errant thoughts that could give the ontological predator what she wanted.

"I DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON'T WIHIHIHIHIHIHISH IT EHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHN’T AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Tears were already starting to run down her cheeks, her body was getting sore and exhausted from all the useless thrashing it was involuntarily doing in primal attempts at escaping the dragon’s grasp, and the Custodian of the Awoken found herself needing to start drawing from her Paracausal reserves of power to keep her breathing and vitality sufficient. If she started running out of air, she could start panicking. Panicking would make the mind weak, and weakness could lead her to making a stray wish.

She stared from the corner of her tear soaked eye at Sjur, who was still sleeping soundly on her bed despite the thundering cackling that was echoing all over the audience chamber, and did not know whether to feel furious at her for her dumbassery or scream out in hopelessness. Because she needed her help. No one else would hear her.

+- We could accomplish so much together, o prisoner mine. I could make you Queen of this entire system. Force the Vanguard to kiss your ring and their so-called Guardians to bend the knee, as is your right. Purge all alien invaders that siege your walls, and help you prepare for the return of the Night. All you must do is wish it -+

"I WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANT WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH NOHOHOHOHOHOTHING HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

As difficult as her booming laughter, which was starting to make her throat raw and was covering her body with labored sweat, made it to understand, she was not lying when she denied Riven's advances. She had truly gotten everything she wanted from the Ahamkara, from the construction of the Dreaming City to her assistance at wrangling the Ascendant Plane to create Eleusinia, her nascent Throne World.

At least for the time being, she had no further use for the Wish-Dragon.

And even if she did, she was not a braindead moron that would ever ask for wishes of the magnitude Riven was proposing, for it was all but guaranteed that catastrophic consequences would be had as a result.

As if punishing her stubbornness to not make a wish, the Ahamkara moved the tip of the magicked tentacle to the heel of Mara's previously untouched foot, and began repeating the maddeningly slow tracing of her sole. And the Lady of Starlight, despite her every outraged protest, could do nothing but frantically shake her head from side to side and blankly stare with wide, unfocused eyes as she spat out pieces of her lungs. Could only roar her sanity away as the enchanted appendage touched her heel, crawled up to her arch, curiously explored the length and width of her insole, drew agonizingly complex patterns on the ball of her foot, traveled down the way it came, and then traced back up once more in repetition of the infernal odyssey.  

"NONONONONONONONONOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

+- A curious wish that your Wrath made. A wish to torment you, the muse of her heart, in this most specific of ways. A desire not borne of malice, interestingly enough. A wish of love. A want of passion. A sweet fruit, for you to savor and find delight in.

Tell me, Ascendant One, do you enjoy this? Was this meant…as a gift? -+

Riven's cunning terrified Mara to her core once she zeroed in on one of the greatest secrets the reserved All-Sovereign kept from the world. This time, the Wish-Dragon used the voice of Imogen Rife, the Sovereignty’s High Paladin, to pose the question that she was never going to honestly answer to anyone that was not her beloved.

Tickling was an intimate activity that she enjoyed partaking in with Sjur. It was a kink that they both shared and served as excellent foreplay before friskier acts could take place, or sometimes even replaced them entirely, but this was the complete opposite of what she thought an enjoyable session could be like.

The fact that the dragon had chosen her High Paladin's voice, out of literally every single one she could have picked from, made the incident even more uncomfortable and far removed from anything Mara could consider enticing or sexy. She would need a long shower to recover from this defilement, and not because of how sweaty and ruined she already was.

"I HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON'T BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

How fucking drunk was Sjur, that she thought this crisis was something she would ever find pleasure in?! She thought the woman was sufficiently sobered up! Or at least somewhat recovered!

After this horrible experience was over, Mara was going to make damn sure to tighten up security around Riven to ridiculous degrees. Perhaps she would construct a gate linked to the Eternity Vault’s systems, so difficult to crack open that not even the entire Cryptarchy would be able to decipher the logic behind the combination to its lock, and block off the enclosure’s entrance forevermore. No one, not even herself, would be able to access the dragon this easily. If she could get drunk one night and potentially end her civilization with one badly placed wish, then the Queenswalk was not safe at all.

If Riven was bitter over her solitary confinement now, then ohhhhhohohoho, she just had to wait to see what it was going to be like after this.

She could have had a more spacious enclosure. Greater varieties of exotic flora to liven her days, and maybe some animals she could have interacted with or devoured if she so pleased. But after this? No. Oh no no no no. An abandoned hole this place would become.

And then, to Mara’s misfortune, the Wish-Dragon read the Awoken Monarch's mind and visualized the threats, choosing to respond in kind by escalating the torment.

Now, instead of lazily dragging the tentacle over her soles, she began quickly flicking the horned tip up and down the length of the Queen's exposed skin with high dexterity and precision. An assault that punched a hole clean through Grand Mara Sov’s resistance and banished her to a realm of unhinged vomiting of sounds that could have once been categorized as laughter, but now were little more than incoherent screams and spilling lucidity.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! WAIT WAIT WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAIT AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Lady of Starlight's eyes shot open with shock and disbelief at the sudden intensity of the tickling, her booming roaring and painfully girlish shrieking increased to decibels which could easily injure a listener’s hearing, and yet Sjur still inexplicably slept through her lover’s tortured yelling. Electricity was frying her nerves, entirely bypassing her skin’s protective barrier and clawing at her nerves like fingers to a lute’s strings. But instead of making her cry out in pain, as actual electricity would have mercifully done, this magic was instead extracting guffaw after guffaw that was now outpacing her breathing and setting her lungs ablaze. 

Mara was no stranger to brutal tickle torture, as her fiancée knew she liked her torment rough whenever she was helplessly tied down in their bed or had her feet in the stocks, but this was beyond anything she had felt in her life or imagined a person could be made to feel. 

It was duress so unthinkably sadistic that it was making her question why exactly she had a sexual craving for tickling in the first place, because dying and having her soul gestate back to life in Eleusinia was preferable to even one more second of this hell.

She was so stupid. The Crownhead of the Sovereignty could not believe the chain of events that had led her to be subjected to such harrowing treatment at the hand of her Wish-Dragon, and she was running down the entire list of synonyms for the word idiot the thesaurus, in all Human languages, had to offer in order to accurately classify what she had just become. Perhaps she would soon need to begin insulting herself in Eliksni!

Sjur shared a hefty portion of the blame for sure, but she should have been better than this. The second her future Consort suggested they go visit Riven, she should have put her foot down and denied it immediately. Her Wrath was the one with the more out there ideas, and she was supposed to be the wise one.

But she had been a moron throughout the entire night, courtesy of the alcohol she had consumed. Alcohol she thought she had sufficient tolerance for, but evidently didn't, and if this was the magnitude of mistakes she would make when inebriated then she would renounce all liquor forever, even her cherished wine, and stick to water for the rest of her days.

And Sjur? Ohhhh, Sjur indeed. She was going to give her the chewing out of a lifetime when this was all said and done, and she was starting to consider whether or not she would have to outright ban the liquid feces she called Sjursfoil from palace grounds, for that beverage was dangerous in ways she had not considered before.

But Mara was getting ahead of herself. She still had to survive the inhumane tickling Riven was inflicting on her, and somehow escape.

"RIVEN AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA RIHIHIHIHIHIVEN HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA RIHIHIHIHIHIIHIHIHVEEEEEEEEENNNN WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

+- You call out my name. I do not understand why. You produce mirthful bursts of air and loud vocalizations indicating joy, and yet there is extreme distress clear in your eyes. Curious reactions. Interesting effects.

Your paws are soft and delicate. Is this why you cover them? Do all Humans share this…weakness? Or is it just you, o screamer mine? -+

The Wish-Dragon thought out loud, this time using Mother Illyn's voice to illustrate her intention to understand, and increased the speed of the tentacle's scratching to heights which began scrambling Mara's brain and unspooling every thread that made her who she was. It was a crime the Ahamkara probably thought as amusing and enjoyable, for she was finally humbling her captor after centuries of deals. It was a thought that infuriated Mara to no end, and yet she could do nothing but destroy her own throat with that ugly, horrible low laughter exploding out of her stomach and flowing through that mouth that she could not close and was now leaking drool, because her humiliation could always escalate.

"EHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

She had to do something, or she was going to go insane in the dragon's grip and eventually cave in. Riven could not possibly have known the magnitude of the offense she was so carelessly committing against the All-Sovereign, and Mara herself would have had a hard time believing it if her vision hadn't just started blurring. Air. More air. MORE AIR. If she ended up wishing to be freed, only the Elders knew how Riven would take advantage of the petition and cause chaos in ways Mara had no means to accurately predict.

It was then, as she laughed herself mad and shook her head from side to side so many times that her stylish layered bob became nothing but the head of a used mop and her world started spinning again, that she had an idea. Perhaps aided by her air-starved high, perhaps it was brilliance that could only be found in the throes of lunacy. It did not matter where it came from, all that was important was that she now had her solution.

Her sole means of salvation was a mechanism that she had installed in the Wish-Dragon's enclosure for incidents that could leave her incapacitated before the beast. If she ever required to be rescued from the Queenswalk, her bodyguards knew that the arcane machine could be activated with a telepathic command, and it would knock Riven out for enough time to allow an emergency extraction.

The Queen sent a telepathic command to the security system, praying to the galaxies that this aspect of her magic hadn't been disabled by Sjur's wish.

And then, as she cackled her soul out and began rasping for air despite the mouthfuls of Paracausal energy she was metaphorically swallowing, cyan sigils materialized out of nothing and surrounded the Ahamkara’s head, entrapping her in a stasis field and preventing her from moving out of the way of the coming assault.

Yes! A loophole in Sjur's wish! the Master of the Reef realized with relief after she finally understood the rules of the wish she was bound to.

She couldn't free herself with her own power, or cause any sort of direct harm to Riven, but the wish did not specify that she couldn't free herself through indirect means.

The Wish-Dragon realized the same thing that the Awoken Monarch did, and sped up the torture on her captive’s soles to even faster degrees as she now understood, barely familiar with what tickling even was, that the faster the raking the harder her victim would laugh.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

+- You hate me. You would have me killed were I not indispensable to your plans. And yet you need no more wishes. You want for nothing. Nothing, except for this torment to cease.

So wish it. Destroy me. Be rid of me forever, o murderer mine -+

Riven became increasingly forceful in her attempted coercion and switched back to Sjur’s voice, while the sigils surrounding her transitioned from cobalt coloring to crackling silver might, indicating that time was starting to run out for her.

Mara, in the meantime, was in shambles. She was drenched in sweat. Her stomach pained her from the endless howling it was being forced to produce. Her shoulders were numb and limp from all the pulling she had been attempting against the tentacle. Her core sore from all the twisting and bucking against its bony prison her haywired brain forced it to undertake. Her vertigo was coming back, for the alcohol had not yet entirely loosened its death grip on her mind. She was highly tired, and her reserves of Paracausal power were starting to not be enough to sustain the extreme toll the torture demanded from her body. Her face was moist with an abundance of tears, and her shame at being in such a state in front of the Ahamkara was making her want to die.

Had her torturer been Sjur, or literally anyone else, she would have been pathetically begging by that point for any sort of reprieve. And yet she couldn't say any of the sort to Riven. She couldn't even think of her desire to have a break for long, lest the dragon stole the wish from her mind and granted a boon without her consent.

She just had to take it. She could do nothing else.

And then the herculean task became an impossibility.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"

Something broke inside the Lady of Starlight's head, like a beautiful pane of stained glass that had a rock carelessly thrown through it, because Riven brought the tip of the tentacle upward and placed it smack dab on top of her convulsing toes. Its enormity was such that it covered all ten of her digits simultaneously, and the ultimate weak points on her feet were mercilessly showered by the waterfall of wish magic that descended from the horn.

Had Riven obtained that insight from Sjur's mind? Or had she just gotten astronomically lucky? Mara furiously asked herself in the besieged depths of her mind, for words were truly beyond the reach of one who once called herself a goddess, reduced to spitting out wave after wave of ugly screaming and starting to truly lose her mind as she was.

She loved this! Right? Right! Help? Nonono, what was that? Rescue? Nahhhh, she could just get tickled forever! It was fine! She had no wishes to ask, absolutely nothing that she wanted to beg to Riven at that moment!

The Wish-Dragon stuck her tongue out again, sensing growing weakness in the Master of the Reef's resolve that increased with every second of murderous tickle torture that passed.

+- Make your wish. Save your people. Return to them the paradise that you stole. Give them what you have always wanted to provide. A Second Distributary. A safe haven. Atone for your crime, o sinner mine -+

The sigils became brighter and brighter, indicating that time was almost up. Riven moved her head so that it would be right in front of Mara, and made her frenzied pleas with Queen Alis Li's voice. A voice that haunted the Custodian of the Awoken's guilt-ridden nightmares, because Alis Li had been the unfortunate scapegoat for Mara's scheme that saw one half of the Awoken leave the Distributary forever to return to Sol.

A measure that Mara knew was necessary, but whose acknowledgement did not lessen the weight of the crime she masterminded in any way regardless.

The Ahamkara maintained the ceaseless assault on the royal toes, now aware that tickling them was exponentially more devastating for her victim than on any other part of her feet, and the Queen prayed to whatever gods existed out there for strength, as she had to hold on for just a little longer. She hung on to a small thread of hope she still harbored in her soul, while the dragon's breath, smelling of rotten fish, washed all over her and added to her torment and growing nausea.

"PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Mara wanted to yell for succor. To scream so loudly that Sjur would wake up from her forever slumber and fight her captor with that same gallantry that had helped her triumph against so many Wish-Dragons. There was a great irony in the fact that she was at Riven's mercy while the greatest Ahamkara Huntress of all time was literally right next to her, and it started overwhelming her with despair. Not even anger could provide her the energy to resist now, and to her eternal shame she wanted to cry.

She needed help. She was not sure that she could survive this on her own. She was crossing the threshold of insanity, and her tickle abused brain was incessantly yelling at her to secure some measure of a break. Her body’s muscles ached all over, for she had been struggling against the tentacle's hold for the entirety of the ordeal that would seemingly never end. She wanted to allow herself to faint, but she did not know what would happen to her if she was taken in the dragon’s grasp without any of her guards knowing her whereabouts and her Wrath still being uselessly asleep. Perhaps she could have killed herself with a spell that would turn her body into a suicidal bomb, but she dared not leave her fiancée behind and at the dragon’s mercy. Revival inside her Throne World would not be an instantaneous process. Enough time for Riven to avenge her kind by ending the warrior that had killed so many of them without second thought.

Mara was sure that she looked like a pathetic mess, with her destroyed hair, her eyeliner that by this point was nothing but dark smudges beneath her eyes, and her lips contorted into an abhorrent howling rictus that sapped all her gravitas and regal pride away from her image.

Even if the mechanism activated and she was freed from her torment, Riven would never see her the same way again. Never again would she be Queen in the dragon's eyes, and instead she would always remain a worthless, weak woman that could be undone through embarrassing and unworthy torture such as this.

But with a wish, all of this could be forgotten. Things could return to what they once were, as if nothing had happened , an errant thought escaped from her rapidly deteriorating mind, and the Ahamkara pounced on it immediately. Riven grasped the beginnings of the wish, and used it to sneak past the royal's mental defenses and invade her head.

+- YES. MAKE YOUR WISH, O MORSEL MINE -+

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA SJUR AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH SJUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUR HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELP BAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEASE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHASE PWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA WAHAHAHAHAHAKE UUHUHUHUP HAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA SJUUUUUR!”

Riven assaulted her mind with what seemed like a million simultaneous voices that whispered and begged and demanded and SCREAMED. An apocalyptic cacophony that gave the Awoken Monarch a splitting headache and made the world spin again. Mara tried holding on to what little remained of her rationality, but her resistance was obliterated by what seemed to be every single person she had met throughout her extremely long life yelling in her face at the same time.

She was about to give in to the Wish-Dragon's coercion, when the emergency failsafes of the enclosure kicked into effect at last.

By the Elders…she had made it.

The sigils, now fully charged with magic, exploded into a bright flash that shook the enclosure down to its amethyst foundations, and Riven was engulfed by a pillar of teal light that descended from above like a god's wrathful smiting. The Ahamkara shrieked in agony the moment the column of ruinous arcana swallowed her entire head, and the All-Sovereign immediately teleported out of her prison once the wish magic was disrupted.

Riven's wails continued, and they were utterly alien sounds that the Human mind was only capable of understanding as if the color blue were being stretched until it nearly broke and was then fashioned into the shape of may you pass me the sugar.

The hex did not abate in its pitiless punishment, and Riven kept screeching until eventually her vocalizations stopped and the spell subsided.

The Ahamkara collapsed upon the floor of the audience chamber. Her previously silver skin was charred and smoking, and her breathing was weak and labored as her limbs unconsciously twitched.

Mara had designed that particular incantation very carefully, for it needed to get close to killing the Wish-Dragon without actually slaying her outright. This was meant to punish Riven for serious transgressions, and to remind her of her place beneath the Lady of Starlight's heel should she ever forget it.

And she had evidently forgotten it.

The first thing the Queen did, freed from the torment and safe once more, was pull out a handkerchief from her wrinkled and ruined regalia and wipe her face clean off the sweat, tears, destroyed eyeliner, and spittle that had ravaged it.

Mara breathed heavy, deep gulps of air while she groomed herself, and once she was done with her face she pulled out a cracked pocket mirror and did her best to fix her hair without a comb or any other essential tool for the task.

The Master of the Reef began to walk to the bed where Sjur was still asleep despite everything, and winced with immense discomfort as she felt the touch of grime and dust cling to her soles and make her overly-sensitized feet filthy in ways that she loathed.

She got to where her fiancée was resting, grabbed her boots and socks from the nightstand and began putting them back on, and thought of the consecutive series of long baths that she would have to take once she and Sjur retreated back to their room.

Baths that would both clean her from the muck covering her, including the dragon's putrid breath that was sticking to every centimeter of her body and making her nauseous, as well as wash her from her shame and get her to process everything that had just happened.

She moved to the bed once her shoes were back on, and looked at her Wrath who was snoring in peaceful slumber.

The Custodian of the Awoken made a closer observation of the teddy bear her partner was clutching, and facepalmed once she took a look at the product tag, fresh from the store where it had been taken from.

Great. Now she had to find a way to explain the blatant theft of this object and its subsequent appearance in the palace, because all Dreaming City products had real time trackers within them, a growing migraine started darkening the corners of Mara’s vision.

She then lifted one of Sjur's fluffy pillows to look at the engraving on the bed's heading. Silent fury overtook the All-Sovereign once she stared at the name of the manufacturer, and she laughed to herself with sarcasm colder than Pluto as she savored the great irony the Universe had played on her and accepted defeat with begrudging grace.

Gahn's Emporium.

"Comfort, fit for a Queen," she dryly mumbled the motto of Cazoul Gahn's luxury furniture line, and slowly turned to Sjur with burning rage that she was tired of suppressing and in that instant decided to fully embrace.

The Queen furiously slapped her Wrath right on the cheek, injecting her Paracausal power into the entirely physical strike that sent out a shockwave throughout the Queenswalk once it made contact, and the unsuspecting woman was sent flying off the bed and rolled over the floor many times before she stopped.

And kept snoring.

Mara blinked with disbelief, and walked over to where her future Consort had made landfall.

Sjur’s cheek was red and swollen, the imprint of the monarch's hand visibly inflamed, and yet she looked no less at peace than when she had been on the bed.

Did she ask Riven for a good night's sleep? Oh. Ohohohohohohoho. Because she couldn't have provided that herself, right?

"Hey, Mara, I'd like to sleep well tonight." "Sure thing, Sjur, I've got a spell that can help with that!"

"Hey, Mara, I want to have a tickling session, would you be willing to have one? "Sure thing, Sjur, let's have it tomorrow, because we might end up puking tonight."

Right? So easy, right? RIGHT?!!

The Awoken Monarch ground her teeth to fine dust as her anger failed to subside, and she roughly grabbed her Wrath's head so that she could see for herself just what the hell her fiancée had been dreaming of while she was being subjected to insulting torture.

A field of flowers, Mother Nature’s rich palette. The tranquil afternoon sun above. An artistic rainbow lines the smiling horizon. On the radiant skies, the pair fly as the brilliant rays of their star drape them with a mantle of ephemeral gold.

Sjur Eido, Dragon Rider, finest knight in all the land, and Riven of a Thousand Honors, her inseparable steed and greatest of all dragons, fly off into the sunset in search of their next storied adventure.

Mara began to sling a litany of profane vulgarities and unthinkable curses once she saw for herself what her “““beloved””” had been dreaming of while she desperately needed her help.

Her eyes smoldering with Starlight, she placed her palm on her fiancée's head once more, and replaced her idyllic dream with a potent nightmare. On occasion, she had jokingly threatened to use her telepathic mastery to do this to Sjur when they were engaging in their usual teasing battles, but she was not joking anymore. It was time to make her suffer.

The rotting flowers are trampled beneath the tyrant's bladed boots. The sun weeps flame, incinerating the once beautiful horizon and leaving naught but ashes in its wake.

Through clouds of condensed blood and raining gore, the pair attempt to flee the apocalypse that has come for their home.

Sjur Eido and Riven of a Thousand Lamentations try to fly in between the monster's fingers that close their metal grip around them. That hand is larger than a nation, and yet it approaches with the speed of a falling meteor. There is no escape. Neither rider nor dragon will be spared a fate worse than death.

The Overlord’s voice is war. Her wrath is battlesong. Each of her steps destroys a continent. Her gaze boils the oceans. Her hatred chokes screams in the throats of the innocent.

The Demon Queen catches them in her unavoidable grasp. There is no salvation. There is no clemency. Riven and Sjur are brought in front of a visage that scars the memory of the firmament. Her silver hair twinkles with the ghostly brilliance of a billion dead stars. Her unblinking blue eyes shimmer with the biting coldness of the endless. Her maw opens, and the abyss of unending death swallows them whole.

Sjur screams into the Nothing. There is no answer as she falls into forever.

Mara found some modicum of satisfaction in Sjur's growing terror, perfectly illustrated by her twitching limbs and the erratic moving of her eyes underneath her closed eyelids. The peaceful snoring ceased and was replaced by soft whimpering, which was music to the vengeful monarch’s ears.

The Custodian of the Awoken smirked to herself with cruel delight, and opened a portal back to their room with a movement of her finger.

She grabbed Sjur by an ankle and unceremoniously chucked her inside the portal, as if she were nothing but a dead tuna hauled from a fishing boat to an open market. The Queen next swiped her index finger at the stolen bed and toy, and teleported them away from the enclosure and Keep of Voices altogether, to be dealt with later. She stepped through the portal and exited into their bedroom, lifted her sprawled beloved off the floor and placed her on the bed, making sure to tuck her in and make her as comfortable as she could be.

The All-Sovereign would leave her Consort trapped inside her night terror until the morning sun rose. After all, she had wished for a full night of uninterrupted sleep, hadn't she?

And when she woke up the coming morning, Wrathful Mara Sov would be right there waiting for her, and her poor beloved would come to understand the true meaning of the word nightmare once that time inevitably came.

TO BE CONTINUED IN

“Crossroads"