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measured_wordsI was talking to my sister this morning about her Changeling game, which inspired me to look through some of the older material I have on my hard drive, and found this.... written in 2003! Wacky. I did really like that character, and I also really like my narrator and story structure, though I have no particular recollection of who they were...
Practically the only character in this that is mine is Jeremy, and a lot of the material is drawn from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladyiolanthe's Changeling campaign of... many many years ago @_@, and most of the dialog comes from irc logs. Thanks to the same for some edits I found in the old file! Also, there may be some formatting weirdness, though I've tried to clean it up as best as possible.
What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
-Shakespeare, Sonnet LIII
------------------
The shining noonday sun fills my room with warmth and light, and might be pleasant were it not for Caitrin having drawn the drapes so that the brightness shines directly in my eyes. A mean thing to do to an old man, but no more cruel than I ever was. I pull the covers over my head. I am awake, and have been for a while, but I'm being obstinate.
"Grandda! It's past noon! What are ye doin' loitering in bed when ye have promised me a story!" She stares down at me, arms crossed, as I peek out from under my blankets. She knows I'm faking, she's a very clever girl.
"Aye lass," I reply, sitting up slowly in my nightclothes, careful to stoop my shoulders that extra little bit. "But ye kept me up so late with last night's part of the tale... Surely a young lady knight like yerself can have a little pity on her old grandda?" Her captious look melts away, her pale blue eyes apologetic. Not so clever as I yet! "Now draw those drapes closed again and pass me a robe. Give me a moment to dress myself, and then you'll have your story, love."
"Aye indeed, but no more dawdling! I've had the cooks prepare you a lunch, and brought it up here with me. Get yerself dressed, and ye can talk and eat at the same time." She bends over to give me a quick peck on the cheek before exiting the room. I can't be sure if dining me is a clever ploy on her part or just consideration, but no matter. I slip out of bed and into something comfortable. I run a quick brush though my own hair, though there is not so much of it as when I was younger, nor is it so long. Once that is done, I call out to her.
"Alright, Caitrin, ye can come back in, but ye'd best have that food ye promised!"
She returns wheeling a little cart of delicious smells under silver domes, and leaves it
sitting beside me. I peek under one of them, and see eggs and several slices of fried ham.
"Mmm... I'll have to remember to send down my compliments to the cooks."
"I'll be sure to tell them when I return the cart, grandda. But first ye still owe me the
story of Hayley, and the other, which ye promised for today." She takes a seat, making herself comfortable on my bed. The prettiest maid to have lain there in a while! I nod, and cover a sly grin as I stuff a fork full of ham into my mouth.
"Yes, love, and I'll tell it. But his story is not as straightforward as Hayley's and it is
harder to know where to begin. But, as I told ye yesterday, this is history as well as tale, and ye may know some of it already." And it is complicated, there is so much to tell! I may not know the details of his story as well as I know Hayley's, but there is enough to fill at least an afternoon.
"Just start at the beginning, grandda, and weave your enchanting tale magic from there."
"So ye'd really have me talk and eat then, girl? Knowing ye, you'd let all these fine
dishes grow cold while I jabbered on and give no second thought to my poor empty stomach! Before I begin my tale, why don't you tell me what little ye've learned in your classes about the Great Dreaming War, and leave an old man to his breakfast? Once I know what all I'll be needing to correct your silly teachers on, then I can begin at the beginning, as ye say."
Caitrin sighs loudly, and I counter immediately by shoving a forkful of eggs into my
mouth. There, now she has to start! Possibly sensing my trick, she directs a half annoyed, half resigned glare in my direction, and props herself up on her elbows. "The Great Dreaming War, is it? Is this tale that old?" I mumble something purposefully incoherent, and she smiles. "Fine, grandda, have it your way." She flops back down gracelessly, possibly forgetting she's supposed to be a knight now, in the familiar rooms of her youth. Yes, lass, hang on to that just a wee bit longer.
"The war was fought centuries ago, the year 1999 by the old calendar. It was brought
about by a mysterious faction in faerie politics called the Shadow Court, who believed that the Seelie had held the reins of power too long. Of course, they believed it should be them who ruled. One of their number, an ancient sidhe called Aneirin, had managed to gain the title of Duke in the court of his enemies, and 'twas from there that he plotted th' war. He tortured children to create terrible monsters for his army, and by the time his duplicity was discovered, 'twas far, far too late. Several heroes arose in this time, one of whom later became the Baron Janus from yesterday's tale. They rallied the Seelie's forces, though they had to fight past many an obstacle, to face Aneirin in th' Dreaming. T'was revealed eventually that he was the son of one of the Tuatha de Danaan, the fathers of our own house Tuathal, and the other Danaans helped the heroes to retrieve a ring in which he had hidden his heart using ancient, powerful, an dark magics. Once they had his heart, they were able to defeat him, his armies feel apart, and the Seelie court had won the day.
"The irony of the Great War was that even though the Seelie won, Dana and Daghda
revealed themselves to both armies after the victory had been declared, to tell them all that Aneirin had been right. The Seelie court had held power for much too long, and the balance between they and the Unseelie had been disturbed. The Unseelie court was told it would have six hundred years ta rule before things became once again as they are now, with each court holding power for a half year. One of the Kings of the Shadow court, King Meurig of House Ailil was appointed to be the first of the Unseelie High Kings, and what we call the Dark Times began with his reign. Does that recapitulation disappoint you too much, grandda? "
I shake my head. She has the responsibility as much as the right to know more than that, but perhaps it will come out in the telling of this tale. "It'll do, fer now," I reply, swallowing the last piece of ham. "I suppose you're not going' to give me a moment to digest this, then, are ye, lass?"
She shakes her head adamantly, and gives me a cross look.
"Alright, then..." I concede, and begin.
***
It was the first of many late nights to come for the crew of Wellington High School's production of Richard III. The dramatis personae had all been cast a month ago and rehearsals had been underway since then. It was now time for the techs to start their serious work, setting up lights, preparing sets, finding and organizing props and costumes. According to school policy, no students were to be in the building after ten o'clock, but there were always those willing to bend the rules for the sake of their own passions.
One of these was Karen 'The Hammer' Cunningham, a wilder Nocker who had been charged with painting the backdrop for Act 3 Scene 3, where Ratcliff brings Rivers, Grey and Vaughan to Pomfret castle to be killed. She was a perfectionist, like most of her kith, and detested even the smallest, inevitable, flaws that appeared in her works. It was nearly midnight when she stopped and took a deep breath after a last tirade of unrepeatable profanity, and decided to take a walk to give herself some distance from her current problem. She decided to go up to the theatre proper, to refresh her memory of how exactly it would be hung. Perhaps that would give her a better idea of what exactly the dimensions should be on the dungeon door.
She mused to herself as she entered into the left wing, and paused as she heard someone reciting onstage.
"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried."
It didn't sound like Gordon, the twelfth grader who had been cast to play the coveted role of Gloucester. In her experience, actors rarely had the stamina, let alone the commitment, to stay much past eleven to practice. The passage was from the first scene, and first act. The beginning lines were hesitant, but gathered a powerful intensity as the soliloquy continued.
"Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute."
No, she realized, it was certainly not Gordon. Whoever this was, they were much better. Glamour was in the air now, when it had never been at practice. She stepped forward, quietly, and stood next to the curtain to get a better look.
"But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,-"
Outlined by the dimmest light peeking in from an open doorway at the back of the theatre, she saw the pale lithe form of Jeremy Vale acting brilliantly for an audience of none. None, except her. He was also on the tech crew, working on set construction. He continued, ignorant of her intrusion.
"Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:-"
It made sense, she thought. She didn't know him well, but they had spoken on occasion. His albinism would make it nearly impossible for him to perform under the harsh and blinding stage lights. He even wore dark glasses in class, and long sleeved shirts in summer. It wasn't surprising, either, if he felt any affinity for the lame and deformed character of Richard. And the glamour... She considered momentarily that she had walked in on some spontaneous rapture, but her instincts told her otherwise. She had never witnessed a chrysalis before. Onstage, the performance continued.
"And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:"
Karen watched as the voile formed around him, chimerical garments transforming him
from high school student to noble lord. A sidhe then, she realized. Perhaps he would find a home with House Eiluned, considering the speech, though Dougal was just as likely because of his form, or Fiona for his apparent passion. He hardly seemed aware of what was happening, or perhaps the magic of the moment had endowed him with an overwhelming inertia, and he simply was being pulled along until he finished.
"And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be."
The speech was nearly finished, she thought, and the cue was to turn for Clarence's
entrance...
"Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:-" He did turn, and stared right at her. "-here
Clarence comes."
She balked unintentionally at his gaze. His eyes, not concealed by dark lenses in the low light of the stage, burned from within with a demonic red glow, and accentuated the whiteness of his alabaster skin. The power of the glamour still flared around him, and he was a terrible sight to behold. Shock reaction overtook her, and she fled.
***
It was nearly a month later when he was first introduced to the man who would in so many ways shape his destiny. In that short time, Jeremy had been confused, courted, feared, attacked and finally abducted from his mortal home by a motley of Unseelie commoners who believed they had his best interests in mind. He was sent from Halifax, the city of his birth, to Fredericton, where Aneirin ruled the duchy of Roison Dhu in the guise of a young wilder of House Gwydion. The motley, lead by an Eshu called Nate, knew something of the machinations of the Court of Shadows, and hoped that the delivery of the new Sidhe to the service of one of his own would grant them favour.
Jeremy's introduction to the world into which he had been plunged was vague and brief. No one who had the power to properly invest him was as yet interested in letting him know what precisely had happened that night, or why the world he saw was so changed. The pale purple haired man with the striking dark violet eyes who lead him down the corridors to this firelit room had spoken to him not at all, and very little even to Nate and his crew when they had finally arrived at this lair and exchanged him for whatever reward it was they had sought. The man, a creature like himself, turned to him, and gestured to one of the chairs.
"Please, sit." Aneirin waited for Jeremy to do so before taking a seat himself. He looked him over, appraisingly, and gave no sign as to whether he did or did not like what he saw. "So, boy, tell me your name." His manner was commanding, but not intimidating. Jeremy returned his appraisal, looking over his captor (or his host, he was uncertain as to which), and answered the question.
"Jeremy Vale."
"Good, "Aneirin nodded, perhaps in approval. "Good. And how long has it been since your chrysalis?"
"Twenty-seven days." He had been keeping track, of course, and the answer came easily to his lips. The whole present situation had him on edge.
"I am Aneirin ap Puk. Have you been told anything about your recent transformation?"
"Very little." It was clear to Jeremy that this man was someone with a lot of power. It was apparent in his demeanour, the way he took charge of the situation so quickly. He wasn't sure how he should act, and he had to fight valiantly to keep his nerves from betraying him too much. Still, Aneirin seemed pleased at his answer.
"Good, those imbeciles did something right. I am glad to hear this. It means I will not
have to do extensive deprogramming. Very good."
It seemed as if his comments were for his own benefit as much as Jeremy's, and the youth had no reply, save to wonder what had been meant by 'deprogramming'. They sat in silence for a moment, while Aneirin scrutinized him even more carefully. His nerves were a natural reaction to his situation. Unconsciously his eyes, always a dull and unnerving red glow since he had changed, flashed a harsher red. Aneirin smiled, or at least pursed his lips, at this, and broke the mounting silence.
"Your parents are human, aren't they?"
The young sidhe nodded again. He wasn't sure where this new track of questions might lead. Aneirin waved his hand dismissively.
"You are now a Changeling, one of the kithain. Forget about your past, your human family, your old friends, your old school, all of that, because frankly, it is now meaningless to you." The emphasis he put on the word 'human' made Jeremy uncomfortable. He knew his life had changed, but it seemed quite a drastic step to simply give up on it completely, or to give it up completely. He wasn't even sure that it was the same thing, or which his violet haired host had meant. "Unless," the lord continued, pausing to be sure he held wholly captive his charge's attention, "they can do something for you."
"What do you mean?"
"People are marvellous tools. Use them, if you can think of any use for them."
Jeremy thought for a moment before replying, casting his eyes aside so that Aneirin
might not so easily read the doubt, suspicion,, and even apprehension, that he felt still.
"So this," he gestured to himself, "means that I never see my parents again, unless it is to trick something out of them, then."
Aneirin's features turned hard as ice and as sharply serious as an iron blade. "Think about it, Jeremy. What do your parents do?"
"My dad is a professor of history and mythology at Acadia. My mom is a legal secretary." He felt a defensive pride. His parent's work, especially his father's, had always interested him, and they had encouraged him to involve himself in their interests, as much as they had involved themselves in his. In the end it seemed that there was little difference between them, and the boundaries between their domains were often blurry.
"Really?" The stern look melted for a moment, morphing into mild surprise. "That's excellent... although it would be human history and human mythology."
This reaction surprised him, but it made him more defensive as well. He wasn't quite prepared to start seeing his family as tools, yet. "Is this where you tell me that everything he has learned is wrong too?" he challenged.
Aneirin did not take the bait, but rather answered as if it had been an honest question.
"By 'human' mythology I mean it probably has some grain of truth to it but has likely been altered by those who documented it, those who translated it, those who collated it, and all the millions of other human hands that it has passed through. So no, I would never say that it is all wrong, and it could actually be quite useful to you." Jeremy could tell that this was something that the lord could probably expound on further, as well as being common knowledge to most scholars in the field, but instead Aneirin stopped, and resumed an echo of his sterner countenance from earlier.
"But, Jeremy, you say your parents are human. You are not, anymore. The lives of humans, and what you have now become seldom cross, because humans for the most part can't bring themselves to believe that such as we might exist. Do you understand?" He leaned closer to reinforce the importance of the statement, and to better assess how well his statements were being received. Jeremy still fought to keep his face a mask, but he thought that maybe he did understand, and wished he didn't, wished he wouldn't have to accept it. "Humans see us as creatures of your father's mythology," Aneirin continued, "which most of them believe is an explanation of things beyond their ken. Since it is beyond their ken, they prefer to sweep it underneath the carpet, so to speak. They would rather not deal with things they do not understand."
Jeremy looked away again, searching the room for arguments against the logic, and for some tool to help him combat the strange sense of guilt that was growing inside him. It was as if he knew, in the end, that he would have to accept Aneirin's words, but needed to fight back regardless.
"Jeremy, I would like you to know that I encourage you always to speak your mind. If you feel you can share your thought with me, tell me. The pursuit of knowledge is never-ending, and ideas you have may further my own understanding of things."
It reminded the youth of something that his father might have said, or maybe something he had said, and it struck him as ironic. Other thoughts were brewing as well, and it was likely these that Aneirin sought to draw out.
"I hope you will view my ideas as a way to expand your own body of knowledge," he added, encouraging like a teacher trying to gain the trust of a new class. "Not as dogma. You may embrace or reject them as you see fit."
"I've always been different," Jeremy offered eventually. "But people have come to accept me anyway. Why is that going to change now?"
The older sidhe closed his pale purple eyes and 'hmmed' savouring the question. "Why have you been seen as different? Because of your colouring, or something else?"
"Mostly because of that."
Aneirin nodded sagely, and hmmed again. "Humans can explain away your colouring. It's a genetic default, which results in the lack of pigmentation. They understand that. They can come to accept it, though I expect it took your schoolmates quite a while to accept you initially." He snapped his fingers casually, and Jeremy found himself floating in the middle of the room. "But how would they explain away this?"
It wasn't an unpleasant sensation or anything. He was simply...floating, three feet above his seat. He reached up to touch the ceiling, staring downwards in surprise.
"If we were outside, or in a larger room, I could make you fly. On your own... no wings or engines, or any other aides that humans could explain away. And would make most of them very uncomfortable, if they knew. You can learn how to do this, too."
"How?" he asked, the debate and reason for the demonstration put out of mind. He could move, but not move himself anywhere. The power clearly came from Aneirin, but he wasn't afraid. He was curious.
"Ah-ha," his teacher smiled. "It's a cantrip. One of many that you may wish to study." It was quite clear that he had captured the younger man's attention now, so he set him back down into his seat. "You can do it if you believe you can, and if you know the right way to manipulate certain things."
"But if there is no cause to do that in front of humans..." Jeremy sought to recollect his thoughts, not wanting to be as easily distracted as a child by this new toy.
"You catch on very quickly," Anerin commended. "You don't have to do that in front of humans, so you can still associate with them, of you like." Jeremy thought for a moment that the man was changing his mind, but was quickly corrected. "The thing is, what will you discuss with them?"
"The same things I discuss with them now, I suppose," Jeremy replied, thinking again of his parents, and especially his father. Aneirin simply shrugged.
"True, but I think soon enough, as you learn more about being a changeling, your old life may grow... a bit dull." Jeremy looked dubious, but his mentor persisted. "And you are bright enough to understand that the things I can teach you aren't really suitable topics for conversation. In fact, you'd likely end up on a psychiatrist's couch."
Jeremy smirked, and Aneirin responded in kind.
"What, already been there?" he teased.
"Not yet," replied the youth.
"And you won't, either. Just to have undergone the change, I know you must be somewhat open to all of this. Some never do. But I think that this may be a good time to tell you about what you are, and how you came to be..."
***
Jeremy was not initially allowed to leave the bunker to which he had been brought. He thought it an appropriate term. The place was luxuriously furnished and quite comfortable, but there were no windows and his vague impressions of the journey there led him to believe the place to be underground. Aneirin granted him access to his library, and nothing in the small self-contained bunker was forbidden to him except for two places: the dungeons and Aneirin's lab. Two Redcaps, Draco and Tel, were about to make sure his interests were not too keenly piqued by these areas. The two were brothers, and Draco the eldest. They owned a small store in town as well as serving some of the small household's more obscure needs. The store "DT Hempsters" was actually a not so clever front from which they sold marijuana and other illicit substances imported from other parts of the country. Aneirin himself was not often about, though he would come down on occasion to teach, or simply speak, or a mix of the two. On one of these occasions, he had the Brothers Grimm, as Jeremy had come to think of them, bring down and set up for the two of them a gourmet meal.
"Well, good afternoon, Jeremy," he began. In truth the younger Sidhe had no idea of the time of day, not having seen any natural light for several weeks. It may have bothered him more if his albinism hadn't made his skin and eyes sensitive to the sun. "How have you been making out?"
"Well," he replied.
"Glad to hear it." Aneirin was in excellent spirits, for some unknown reason. "I hope you will join me for dinner."
"Of course." He was hungry, the food smelled absolutely delicious. He was aware, perhaps subconsciously, that it would be an incredibly foolish idea to refuse the hospitality, but it never occurred to him to do so.
"It's fresh from my hotel's kitchens. The Master Chef, Tse, is really quite a treasure."
The two Redcaps continued to bustle about like Boggans for a few moments, while the two Sidhe seated (or re-seated in Jeremy's case) themselves to take part.
"You have a very interesting library," the youth commented.
"Thank you. I've collected my books over years." Aneirin smiled approvingly as his henchman left the two of them alone. "I trust you have found some that interest you? That you enjoy?" Jeremy nodded. "Good. Tell me about them."
"The histories... the magics."
"What have you learned from them? Have they helped equip you for your future?"
"The different versions of each," Jeremy began to explain, but Aneirin 'mmm-hmmed' and cut him off. "Practiced any magic yet?" he interjected.
"Some." He didn't want to expound too much, thinking that he might be simply be interrupted again. The questions brought to mind the pop-quizzes he had been subjected to at school. Presumably once his teacher had been satisfied, they would eat.
"Good." Aneirin's statement of approval reinforced his pupil's theory. "So you've been reading some of the Seelie histories, as well as those of the various kiths?"
This time, Jeremy only nodded. The other man shifted slightly in his chair to scrutinize him better, or to get more comfortable.
"I always enjoy the different perspectives," he philosophized, "I find they give you much to think about." For the most part, the pupil agreed, but there was one thing that he found lacking, and since Aneirin was forever encouraging him to speak his mind, he did.
"Our house is rarely mentioned," he commented. Jeremy wanted to lean more about the group to which, apparently, he belonged.
"Yes. We like to keep it that way."
"It makes it harder to learn anything about it."
"The entire Shadow Court, as a matter of fact, is nearly mythical to those of the Seelie
Court." Aneirin looked as though he had been expecting this discussion to arise, if not tonight, then soon. He also looked pleased. "You can ask me whatever you wish to know," he added, "and I think that you will also find your father's human mythology most useful in the pursuit of knowledge relating to our House."
Jeremy had already made the connection, based on the name and what he had found in books, between his house and the Fomorians, giants of Chaos who had ruled before the arrival of the Tuatha de Danaan in Ireland. Balor, whose single blood red eye could strike a man dead with a single glance, had been their king before his half-breed grandson, Lugh, lead the Tuatha to the final victory at the battle of Mag Turath. But that was not what had piqued his interest at the moment.
"The shadow court?" The term had turned up in his reading, but as with House Balor, little of any usefulness had been associated with it.
"Yes. Our House, House Leanhaun and House Ailil make up the Shadow Court. We tend to move in the shadows of Changeling Society, hence the denomination."
"What do we do?"
Aneirin grinned slightly, noticing the inclusion of himself in Jeremy's statement. "We are the movers and shakers. We pull strings in the background, and make the Seelie dance, and they never know quite who does it. But not for too much longer..."
"What do you mean?" Jeremy cocked his head to the side. Dinner had been put out of mind completely. Aneirin smirked conspiratorially.
"There are great wheels in motion, turning, turning..." he replied enigmatically. The boy sat in thought for a moment, considering what little he knew. His mentor interrupted his thoughts with yet another question. "Have you read your pre-Sundering history, Jeremy?"
"Some of it," he nodded.
"What have you learned about the Seelie and Unseelie courts back then, in your readings?" Aneirin had once more slipped into the role of teacher, and it was a very interesting lesson to be learned, indeed.
"They each ruled for half the year, taking over from each other at the spring and fall equinoxes... Seelie in summer, Unseelie in fall."
"Yes. And what has happened since?"
"The Seelie rule all the time."
"Yes. And why did the courts alternate, before the Sundering?"
"I'm not exactly sure," Jeremy admitted. "The books don't explain everything. It was more than politics. I think it was because of our nature. Our duality represented in our leadership." The duality he referred to was that of the two legacies that were reflected in the personality of each fae. In some the differences between the two halves was very drastic, and in others it was hardly noticeable at all. Either way, it was a proven fact of changeling psychology.
"Yes..." Aneirin replied, frowning thoughtfully at the statement, "but it was also to keep a balance. All things are poised on a knife's edge, and our duality is no exception." Jeremy nodded, wondering if he truly was following the same line of thought. Aneirin continued. "Did you know that everything, all existence, is a carefully choreographed dance? But since the Seelie have ruled nonstop for six hundred years, things have been thrown off balance."
The young Sidhe was certain now that what his teacher was spouting now was personal philosophy. He had read things along similar lines, but this sounded liked something Aneirin believed in, and something his teacher had thought on a great deal. He listened more carefully because of it.
"The dancers make sprightly leaps and airy twirls when the music is slow and somber,
and they move with solemnity when the music is fast. The dance and the music of the spheres are in discord, the balance gone awry, and the orchestra faltering."
It was an interesting analogy, but Jeremy wondered if that was all that was meant by it. In a way, maybe it did make sense...
"And all our other problems... are because of this?" He asked. "Being out of balance?"
"It seems the most likely explanation."
Jeremy wasn't convinced immediately, but it did make sense. He could always read on it more later. It had seemed odd to him that the half year of Unseelie rule had been discontinued when he read it the first time. He saw the root problem to be fixed, even if not all its symptoms were clear to him at present. "And so the wheels of the Shadow Court turn, to fix this?"
"Something like that, yes." Aneirin smiled enigmatically again.
"And they are turning down in your lab?" He heard strange sounds from that place. He didn't know what was causing them, but he thought if he were being let in on one secret... they may be related things.
Aneirin raised an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. "Not entirely here... And don't think this has all happened in a very short period of time. The wheels have been grinding slowly onwards towards this goal for centuries." He leaned towards his charge, face serious, but with excitement in his eyes. "Do you think it is foolish or rash? Or *not possible*?"
Jeremy wasn't sure exactly what Aneirin meant by his questions, so after a short pause to consider he simply spoke what he could make of it. "It seems to make sense..."
"Yes, it does. And many of both courts have come to a similar conclusion."
"Both courts?" The statement surprised him, though he supposed that there may be some who would question their own power. "I suppose, if they were wise..."
"Yes. The Seelie Courts seem to turn a deaf ear on those soothsayers of doom, however. They prefer not to think that their rule could be flawed. It's only among the Unseelie Court that anyone seems to take things seriously."
Of course those with the power to change things don't want to hear about their faults.
He nodded, and Aneirin continued. "And it is certainly only in the Shadow Court that anyone has the courage, the gall, to actually act upon it."
It struck Jeremy how rational Aneirin seemed about all of this. It made it seem all the more real, and more epic. After only a month, he still would question, secretly, if all that was going on around him, happening to him, was just some sort of insanity. He would only need to look in a mirror to cure his doubts however. This time, he looked up, into the face of his teacher. Aneirin had never told him any title to use, but Jeremy was coming to understand rank and title in the faerie world, and he knew that the man held power over him even if he never did voice it. "And what is going to happen?"
"Well." Aneirin paused, looking up reflectively. "Many things," he continued after a moment. "Even now things are in motion, gathering impetus. There will be a war, most certainly. I will be forcing the Seelie Court's hand in this issue."
This surprised Jeremy. He hadn't realized that all this talk of wheels turning might result in something so...immediate. He hadn't realized exactly how directly involved in things Aneirin was now claiming to be. "You personally?"
"Why not?" His response seemed casual, but Jeremy could read the seriousness behind it. This was what the bolder Sidhe had seemed excited about. "Someone must do it, and I'm already in a perfect position to do so."
"What is your position?"
"Well, not perfect." Aneirin ignored the question for the moment in order to clarify his statement. "Never, ever rely on a false feeling of perfection... But close to." His point made, he turned to consider his charge for a moment. "Dear boy." His voice wasn't patronizing, but proud, though Jeremy wasn't quite sure of what. "I'm a fair bit older than you look. I've been working on this for centuries. Slowly, slowly, gaining the ear of the most powerful Shadow Court members." Jeremy settled himself in to his chair, listening intently. He could tell he had inspired a lecture. Those with experience often wish to pass on their advice, and it is often wise to listen to them. Jeremy knew this, and you'd be better off if you did as well, Caitrin. In any case, Aneirin began.
"You will find that time, and patience, are your best allies. You also must be diplomatic. And you must understand what will draw people to your cause. That is why reading all those histories, from different points of view, is so very useful. You get an insight as to how the minds of the different kiths work, and while I would hate to generalize- never generalize, Jeremy- most members of a kith share a common heritage, a common tradition handed down through the ages, and so it is possible to predict how they may react.
"Offer them what they would like, and then act on it! Give them some of what they want, so they know it is within your power to do so. But don't give it all, not until they've done what you want them to do. And even then, it is useful to hold some back. They'll keep coming, if they think they can get something more from you.
"Also get to know individuals. While the various social gatherings of the Courts may sometimes be dreary affairs, go to them. Speak with people, joke with people. Get to know their names, ask about their families, their farms, whatever. They'll swiftly learn to like you. Be kind to their children. Encourage the best in all your subjects, and they will do their best for you.
"But also, show them a hint of steel, so they know that you are not someone they want to cross."
Jeremy wondered for a moment if that was what went on in the dungeons, the sounds he heard from there, and from the lab.. 'showing people a hint of steel.' He knew there were things he didn't know about his teacher, who was continuing his speech regardless of Jeremy's wandering thoughts.
"...Subtlety. It is another good ally. If someone really displeases you, don't suffer them to live, but don't make a huge affair of their death either. Arrange for them to disappear."
Jeremy's eyes narrowed briefly, the dungeon sounds still on his mind. Aneirin noticed, and paused in his diatribe to address the matter. His own eyes slitted like cutting edges.
"You don't like the idea of killing, do you."
"I've never done it before. I've never needed to." Or needed to think about it, he thought. He had been perhaps somewhat of an outsider to the majority of his peers, but he'd had a strong enough spirit to not let the opinions of others seriously scar him.
"My planning has taken me hundreds of years," the elder rationalized. "I can't afford to have one person, one lonely person, possibly destroy all that. Think of all the lives that have been lost because of the six hundred years of Seelie rule. The lives that never came to be because Banality prevented them.
"A good general knows that to save the country, some soldiers must die. Think of the human world wars. How many people died during them? Thousands. Yet thousands more lived because of the sacrifice of some few."
Jeremy did think on these things, and he thought of the horror the world had first felt when America had dropped its bombs on Japan. He considered the old debate of how many lives it had saved versus how many it had cost.
"Life is cruel, but we must make what we can of it." Aneirin looked him directly in the eye. "And Jeremy, you must learn that truth, embrace it, for otherwise you will never succeed. You can achieve anything you desire, so long as you are willing to take the necessary actions to achieve it. But if you are too weak to do so, you might as well just give up now."
The master paused to let his words sink in, picking at some of the food that had been prepared and brought in for them and had been left to cool for so long.
"I'm not weak," was Jeremy's answer after some consideration. He did know life was cruel, and he could understand the need to protect important ideas. Was is stronger to be willing to die for something, or to be willing to live, to kill...
Aneirin looked at him proudly. "Of course you're not. That's why I am telling you all this. Because I believe you will make good use of it." The pupil smiled in satisfaction. He knew Aneirin would never had told him any of this if he were not a promising student. He suspected that he may have been passed off to a lesser man by now if he been disappointing.
"Have some food," Aneirin offered, having filled his own plate. "It's growing cold." He lifted his plate up with one hand, gestured, and heated it from underneath with a small fireball held in his palm. Jeremy watched him do this, and picked up his own plate, picking over the herb encrusted carcass of the roast pheasant for some darker meat, and portioning out some of the braised summer vegetables. The two ate in silence for a few moments, but it seemed that Aneirin's chatty mood had not entirely left him.
"Have you grown weary yet of the rooms I have given you down here, Jeremy?"
"It's very confined down here," he replied diplomatically.
Aneirin nodded apologetically. "I am sorry for that. And truly, it is not only your mind you must exercise but your body as well. Perhaps you should start learning swordplay, or maybe you prefer archery?" He set down his plate, and Jeremy did as well, for the time being. "More modern weapons are also available, " his teacher continued. "Guns and the like. Does any of that appeal to you?"
"I've taken some fencing..." Most of it had been in order to help with scene choreography for theater. It had interested him, but he had never had enough time to investigate it more thoroughly. He had never felt particularly encouraged by the other students to make time, either. "People think that I'm frail because my skin is sensitive."
"People should learn not to judge others by their appearances." He sounded reproachful, but Jeremy knew that the tone was not meant for him, but rather aimed at the world in general. "But that, too, is something you can turn to your advantage. In some situations, it may be useful to have people underestimate you..." Perhaps realizing that he was beginning down the road to another preachy segue, he trailed off. "Would you like to continue to learn more swordplay, Jeremy?"
"I think I would. I need to do something active."
"Well. There are some good knights at my estate who can teach you a lot. Tomorrow,
I'll start teaching you a useful cantrip so that you'll be able to disguise yourself."
Jeremy nodded, interested in the extra magic lesson as much as the idea of physical activity.
"Then you can come and practice swordplay a few hours each day. I think you are ready to interact a bit more with others of our kind. See what you can learn about my servants... befriend them. Because that's another thing you should know. It is useful to have contacts in all places, regardless of their stations in life. Each person has some talent, skill, or knowledge that may be useful to you. Perhaps not right this moment, but in the future you may be glad of their friendship." Aneirin paused, looking over the room briefly. "Well then." He looked to his pupil again. "You've been immersed in Changeling things for over a month now. What sort of goals would you like to see yourself achieve? What sorts of plans do you have for your future, Jeremy?" He finished the final few bites of his meal, patted at his lips with his napkin, and sat back, ready to talk about Jeremy's future for a while.
"I still need to lean more.... about Magic, and about our house," the youth began. He had been considering his future, but there were still too many things he needed to know about the world that had only recently opened to him before he could be sure what course to set. "And now you're telling me that there is a war coming, and that you hope to change what is. So, I'm not sure what my plans are yet. I suppose I will have to wait and see how the world is reshaped, and fit myself into it."
"No, Jeremy," interrupted Aneirin, "fit the world to yourself. But you have nothing for the immediate future?"
"Right now, you are the only connection I have to the world I'm supposed to belong to now. I don't think that it is enough leverage," he stated, meaning to carve the world in his own image, "unless I want to stand in your shadow forever." Aneirin paused for a moment at that, and Jeremy noticed, steering himself back into the present and more immediate future. "For now, I wish to continue my studies, and expand on them."
"Not forever, Jeremy, but you'd do well to stand there for a while yet," Anerin answered after another moment, grinning slightly. "Very well. Are there any particular areas you'd like to delve into more deeply? This library-" he gestured to the one full of arcane and rare books that they currently were sitting in, "-is by no means all of my collection."
"Oh?" This was surprising. Even as far as mortal texts were concerned, this library was quite well stocked with the exotic. There were tomes of changeling magics older that any record he had ever heard of his father accessing. He wondered how many other hidden stores of secret books his master had hidden, and how far spread they were. There were books in this collection from most continents of the world, and many were from Europe.
"I can bring some further study material in for you, if you like, in areas you are particularly interested in."
"I want to know more about our house... Everything in the histories here is very vague, but contradicts so much of what others says about the Sidhe and the other houses."
Aneirin nodded and 'hmmed' to himself briefly, as if making a mental note, or considering something. "There will be a gathering at my freehold a week from today. I think you might like to come see what it's about. Immerse yourself a bit deeper in Changeling culture."
"That would be interesting," the youth nodded in response. "What is the date?"
"It's one of our festivals- Highsummer Night. July 17."
Jeremy nodded. That meant that today was the tenth... not that it was of any great importance. "That is something else I have been reading about... the various festivals, the reasons behind them."
"Good. Highsummer Night, I'm sure you've read, is one of the few nights of the year that Seelies actually condone interference with mortals. We'll have some enchanted and brought to the Freehold. While they are enchanted of course, they can see us as we truly are, and interact with us. It usually results in an interesting evening."
Jeremy nodded again. He had read about the festival. A glint of something in Aneirin's eye made him think of some of the uses to which the mortals were put, in their enchanted state, and when it ended. They seemed to have their roots in ancient rituals of kingship, when a false king would be made so that he might be ritually sacrificed. He kept his thoughts to himself for the time being.
"Well. Do you have any more questions, Jeremy? Can I do anything more for you this evening?"
"I have a lot to think about now, I think." And he did. He liked to take time after these sorts of sessions to sort out his own opinions and ideas from his teacher's. But he did want to know more. "I'd like to learn more about the Shadow Court, your plans, all of it."
"Well, all in due time, Jeremy, but if you have no further use for me, I believe I have some business to attend to down the hall." The dark look that had crossed his face when they had begun discussing the festival had not quite left him, and Jeremy was not quite sure he was comfortable with it. His mind seemed to be in another place. Aneirin called for Tel, who came in after a moment.
"Tel! Please clean up the meal once young Jeremy has had his fill."
The Redcap grinned at the two of them, wrapping his twisted grey lips around a mouthful of flat short teeth. One of them looked like it might have been chipped. "Sure thing," he quipped to Aneirin, and then turned to the younger of the two Sidhe. "Hi there, kid."
"Hello," he replied simply. He hadn't had much cause to interact with Tel or Draco, and though they had never seemed overly friendly, they had never really bothered him much about anything either.
"Good night, Jeremy," Aneirin said as he stood. Jeremy replied in kind, and watched
him leave and head down the hall, towards the lab.
"Had enough to eat yet, Jeremy?" Tel broke off his thoughts, and the young sidhe picked up his plate again.
"Ahh, no. Too busy listening..."
"Too much here for you?" The Redcap seemed hopeful.
"Help yourself, I don't eat that much."
Tel grimaced grotesquely, exposing again his mouth full of oversized cutting blades in all their glory, before digging in. Jeremy had read all about the appetites of that kith. He'd also learned long ago to shrug off simple bullying antics and more serious intimidation measures. He picked at his food thoughtfully while the Redcap tore into the leavings.
"Draco's missin' out," Tel interjected between mouthfuls. "Has to help the boss."
"Help him with what?"
"Experimentation." The Redcap seemed more interested in eating than talking, but was making so short work of what had been left that it couldn't possibly be an issue for much longer. He crunched through the sternum of the pheasant like it were a stick of celery.
"Oh?" Jeremy prompted.
"The boss is trying to develop the perfect soldier. Fearless, big, and powerful."
Watching Tel eat was an experience. "Hmmm... that makes sense. Loyal too,
presumably." If there were going to be a war... Jeremy wondered what was involved in the creation of soldiers.
"Of course." Tel paused to wipe off some grease from his chin. "All his troops are loyal, 'cept maybe for those Ailil. Backstabbers, the lot of them," he muttered darkly.
"How is he doing this?" Jeremy meant the creation of soldiers, though he wondered too about this army. Where had Aneirin hidden them? Tel smirked.
"Why don't you get him to show you some time? It's really educational. Hawhawhaw."
Jeremy frowned. Tel was mocking him, and he knew there was something he was
missing. "I'm sure he will, in time."
"I don't think you could watch for long. You're too nice."
This felt like a challenge. Jeremy wasn't afraid to meet it. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I remember the first days you were here, you missed your family."
"And? That makes me nice, does it?"
"Makes you a wuss. Do you miss them still, Jeremy?"
In truth he did, thought not as much as he had at first. It did still bother him that he was so cut off from them, because he knew that they would worry. He also knew the kinds of ideas that other people would present to them regarding his disappearance, and he hated to think of them being exposed to that kind of ignorant slander. But he didn't see his attachment to them as a weakness. "Draco's your brother, right?"
"Yeah, he is. Whatcha gonna do about it? He'd tear you limb for limb if you tried
anything, and swallow your still-beating heart whole."
Jeremy shrugged casually, but something made the Redcap look suddenly wary. It must be his eyes. He could tell when they glowed. He couldn't control it, but sometimes he thought they had their own sense of drama. "Awful defensive for someone who thinks that relying on one's family is for wussies," he quipped.
"No way. I'd kill him myself if I had anything to gain from it." It was Tel's turn to shrug, his momentary defensiveness gone. "But right now, suits me fine that he's alive." Jeremy couldn't tell if he was lying or not. "Do you have a brother? Or a sister?"
"No." He'd often mused that you didn't often see parents who had produced one genetically 'defective' baby going back to try again, but he didn't say that.
"Too bad. I've never fucked albino pussy before." Tel grinned to himself, and Jeremy
grinned too, though not sincerely.
"Well, if you ever do, I'm sure your life will be fulfilled. Keep me posted." There was very little anyone could say to him along that vein that didn't simply sound tired to him. He'd been getting similar for seventeen years.
"Hawhaw, that's the spirit, kid. You're not so bad, y'know?"
Jeremy 'hmmed'. He realized he had picked the habit up from Aneirin. "I'd heard that one before."
"Sure. Really, though, you ain't so bad for a Sidhe kid. Most of them are fucking brats. I'd eat 'em all for breakfast if boss'd let me. Maybe I'll get to, tomorrow morning." Tel grinned again, in anticipation. Jeremy wondered what exactly he meant, and if it had anything to do with the experiments Aneirin and Draco were working on at the moment. He was determined not to show the Redcap any more weakness, though, so he let the remark pass with only raising an eyebrow.
"I can't say I've ever met any... except Aneirin." He had met mostly members of the
common kiths since his chrysalis. Karen Cunningham, a Nocker, had been the first he'd met, and he had been able to tell she was afraid of him. He had been confused, but she hadn't been around too long when he'd first encountered Nate's gang. It had been an interesting few weeks. "I don't think he qualifies as a kid, though. Or a brat."
"Nope, and you know, I don't think he's exactly a Sidhe, either. He's a fucking monster."
The way Tel was speaking was making Jeremy apprehensive, but he tried not to show it.
"Oh?" he asked casually.
"Hell yeah. 'S why I love working for him so much. The fringe benefits are great." The Redcap surveyed the decimated remains of dinner, and shrugged. "Well, see ya! Give me a shout when you're done eating."
Jeremy nodded, and resumed picking at his own food, his eyes unconsciously narrowed as he watched the Redcap leave. Tel had also given him a lot to think about.
Practically the only character in this that is mine is Jeremy, and a lot of the material is drawn from
ladyiolanthe's Changeling campaign of... many many years ago @_@, and most of the dialog comes from irc logs. Thanks to the same for some edits I found in the old file! Also, there may be some formatting weirdness, though I've tried to clean it up as best as possible.What is your substance, whereof are you made,
That millions of strange shadows on you tend?
-Shakespeare, Sonnet LIII
------------------
The shining noonday sun fills my room with warmth and light, and might be pleasant were it not for Caitrin having drawn the drapes so that the brightness shines directly in my eyes. A mean thing to do to an old man, but no more cruel than I ever was. I pull the covers over my head. I am awake, and have been for a while, but I'm being obstinate.
"Grandda! It's past noon! What are ye doin' loitering in bed when ye have promised me a story!" She stares down at me, arms crossed, as I peek out from under my blankets. She knows I'm faking, she's a very clever girl.
"Aye lass," I reply, sitting up slowly in my nightclothes, careful to stoop my shoulders that extra little bit. "But ye kept me up so late with last night's part of the tale... Surely a young lady knight like yerself can have a little pity on her old grandda?" Her captious look melts away, her pale blue eyes apologetic. Not so clever as I yet! "Now draw those drapes closed again and pass me a robe. Give me a moment to dress myself, and then you'll have your story, love."
"Aye indeed, but no more dawdling! I've had the cooks prepare you a lunch, and brought it up here with me. Get yerself dressed, and ye can talk and eat at the same time." She bends over to give me a quick peck on the cheek before exiting the room. I can't be sure if dining me is a clever ploy on her part or just consideration, but no matter. I slip out of bed and into something comfortable. I run a quick brush though my own hair, though there is not so much of it as when I was younger, nor is it so long. Once that is done, I call out to her.
"Alright, Caitrin, ye can come back in, but ye'd best have that food ye promised!"
She returns wheeling a little cart of delicious smells under silver domes, and leaves it
sitting beside me. I peek under one of them, and see eggs and several slices of fried ham.
"Mmm... I'll have to remember to send down my compliments to the cooks."
"I'll be sure to tell them when I return the cart, grandda. But first ye still owe me the
story of Hayley, and the other, which ye promised for today." She takes a seat, making herself comfortable on my bed. The prettiest maid to have lain there in a while! I nod, and cover a sly grin as I stuff a fork full of ham into my mouth.
"Yes, love, and I'll tell it. But his story is not as straightforward as Hayley's and it is
harder to know where to begin. But, as I told ye yesterday, this is history as well as tale, and ye may know some of it already." And it is complicated, there is so much to tell! I may not know the details of his story as well as I know Hayley's, but there is enough to fill at least an afternoon.
"Just start at the beginning, grandda, and weave your enchanting tale magic from there."
"So ye'd really have me talk and eat then, girl? Knowing ye, you'd let all these fine
dishes grow cold while I jabbered on and give no second thought to my poor empty stomach! Before I begin my tale, why don't you tell me what little ye've learned in your classes about the Great Dreaming War, and leave an old man to his breakfast? Once I know what all I'll be needing to correct your silly teachers on, then I can begin at the beginning, as ye say."
Caitrin sighs loudly, and I counter immediately by shoving a forkful of eggs into my
mouth. There, now she has to start! Possibly sensing my trick, she directs a half annoyed, half resigned glare in my direction, and props herself up on her elbows. "The Great Dreaming War, is it? Is this tale that old?" I mumble something purposefully incoherent, and she smiles. "Fine, grandda, have it your way." She flops back down gracelessly, possibly forgetting she's supposed to be a knight now, in the familiar rooms of her youth. Yes, lass, hang on to that just a wee bit longer.
"The war was fought centuries ago, the year 1999 by the old calendar. It was brought
about by a mysterious faction in faerie politics called the Shadow Court, who believed that the Seelie had held the reins of power too long. Of course, they believed it should be them who ruled. One of their number, an ancient sidhe called Aneirin, had managed to gain the title of Duke in the court of his enemies, and 'twas from there that he plotted th' war. He tortured children to create terrible monsters for his army, and by the time his duplicity was discovered, 'twas far, far too late. Several heroes arose in this time, one of whom later became the Baron Janus from yesterday's tale. They rallied the Seelie's forces, though they had to fight past many an obstacle, to face Aneirin in th' Dreaming. T'was revealed eventually that he was the son of one of the Tuatha de Danaan, the fathers of our own house Tuathal, and the other Danaans helped the heroes to retrieve a ring in which he had hidden his heart using ancient, powerful, an dark magics. Once they had his heart, they were able to defeat him, his armies feel apart, and the Seelie court had won the day.
"The irony of the Great War was that even though the Seelie won, Dana and Daghda
revealed themselves to both armies after the victory had been declared, to tell them all that Aneirin had been right. The Seelie court had held power for much too long, and the balance between they and the Unseelie had been disturbed. The Unseelie court was told it would have six hundred years ta rule before things became once again as they are now, with each court holding power for a half year. One of the Kings of the Shadow court, King Meurig of House Ailil was appointed to be the first of the Unseelie High Kings, and what we call the Dark Times began with his reign. Does that recapitulation disappoint you too much, grandda? "
I shake my head. She has the responsibility as much as the right to know more than that, but perhaps it will come out in the telling of this tale. "It'll do, fer now," I reply, swallowing the last piece of ham. "I suppose you're not going' to give me a moment to digest this, then, are ye, lass?"
She shakes her head adamantly, and gives me a cross look.
"Alright, then..." I concede, and begin.
***
It was the first of many late nights to come for the crew of Wellington High School's production of Richard III. The dramatis personae had all been cast a month ago and rehearsals had been underway since then. It was now time for the techs to start their serious work, setting up lights, preparing sets, finding and organizing props and costumes. According to school policy, no students were to be in the building after ten o'clock, but there were always those willing to bend the rules for the sake of their own passions.
One of these was Karen 'The Hammer' Cunningham, a wilder Nocker who had been charged with painting the backdrop for Act 3 Scene 3, where Ratcliff brings Rivers, Grey and Vaughan to Pomfret castle to be killed. She was a perfectionist, like most of her kith, and detested even the smallest, inevitable, flaws that appeared in her works. It was nearly midnight when she stopped and took a deep breath after a last tirade of unrepeatable profanity, and decided to take a walk to give herself some distance from her current problem. She decided to go up to the theatre proper, to refresh her memory of how exactly it would be hung. Perhaps that would give her a better idea of what exactly the dimensions should be on the dungeon door.
She mused to herself as she entered into the left wing, and paused as she heard someone reciting onstage.
"Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried."
It didn't sound like Gordon, the twelfth grader who had been cast to play the coveted role of Gloucester. In her experience, actors rarely had the stamina, let alone the commitment, to stay much past eleven to practice. The passage was from the first scene, and first act. The beginning lines were hesitant, but gathered a powerful intensity as the soliloquy continued.
"Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute."
No, she realized, it was certainly not Gordon. Whoever this was, they were much better. Glamour was in the air now, when it had never been at practice. She stepped forward, quietly, and stood next to the curtain to get a better look.
"But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,-"
Outlined by the dimmest light peeking in from an open doorway at the back of the theatre, she saw the pale lithe form of Jeremy Vale acting brilliantly for an audience of none. None, except her. He was also on the tech crew, working on set construction. He continued, ignorant of her intrusion.
"Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:-"
It made sense, she thought. She didn't know him well, but they had spoken on occasion. His albinism would make it nearly impossible for him to perform under the harsh and blinding stage lights. He even wore dark glasses in class, and long sleeved shirts in summer. It wasn't surprising, either, if he felt any affinity for the lame and deformed character of Richard. And the glamour... She considered momentarily that she had walked in on some spontaneous rapture, but her instincts told her otherwise. She had never witnessed a chrysalis before. Onstage, the performance continued.
"And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:"
Karen watched as the voile formed around him, chimerical garments transforming him
from high school student to noble lord. A sidhe then, she realized. Perhaps he would find a home with House Eiluned, considering the speech, though Dougal was just as likely because of his form, or Fiona for his apparent passion. He hardly seemed aware of what was happening, or perhaps the magic of the moment had endowed him with an overwhelming inertia, and he simply was being pulled along until he finished.
"And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be."
The speech was nearly finished, she thought, and the cue was to turn for Clarence's
entrance...
"Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:-" He did turn, and stared right at her. "-here
Clarence comes."
She balked unintentionally at his gaze. His eyes, not concealed by dark lenses in the low light of the stage, burned from within with a demonic red glow, and accentuated the whiteness of his alabaster skin. The power of the glamour still flared around him, and he was a terrible sight to behold. Shock reaction overtook her, and she fled.
***
It was nearly a month later when he was first introduced to the man who would in so many ways shape his destiny. In that short time, Jeremy had been confused, courted, feared, attacked and finally abducted from his mortal home by a motley of Unseelie commoners who believed they had his best interests in mind. He was sent from Halifax, the city of his birth, to Fredericton, where Aneirin ruled the duchy of Roison Dhu in the guise of a young wilder of House Gwydion. The motley, lead by an Eshu called Nate, knew something of the machinations of the Court of Shadows, and hoped that the delivery of the new Sidhe to the service of one of his own would grant them favour.
Jeremy's introduction to the world into which he had been plunged was vague and brief. No one who had the power to properly invest him was as yet interested in letting him know what precisely had happened that night, or why the world he saw was so changed. The pale purple haired man with the striking dark violet eyes who lead him down the corridors to this firelit room had spoken to him not at all, and very little even to Nate and his crew when they had finally arrived at this lair and exchanged him for whatever reward it was they had sought. The man, a creature like himself, turned to him, and gestured to one of the chairs.
"Please, sit." Aneirin waited for Jeremy to do so before taking a seat himself. He looked him over, appraisingly, and gave no sign as to whether he did or did not like what he saw. "So, boy, tell me your name." His manner was commanding, but not intimidating. Jeremy returned his appraisal, looking over his captor (or his host, he was uncertain as to which), and answered the question.
"Jeremy Vale."
"Good, "Aneirin nodded, perhaps in approval. "Good. And how long has it been since your chrysalis?"
"Twenty-seven days." He had been keeping track, of course, and the answer came easily to his lips. The whole present situation had him on edge.
"I am Aneirin ap Puk. Have you been told anything about your recent transformation?"
"Very little." It was clear to Jeremy that this man was someone with a lot of power. It was apparent in his demeanour, the way he took charge of the situation so quickly. He wasn't sure how he should act, and he had to fight valiantly to keep his nerves from betraying him too much. Still, Aneirin seemed pleased at his answer.
"Good, those imbeciles did something right. I am glad to hear this. It means I will not
have to do extensive deprogramming. Very good."
It seemed as if his comments were for his own benefit as much as Jeremy's, and the youth had no reply, save to wonder what had been meant by 'deprogramming'. They sat in silence for a moment, while Aneirin scrutinized him even more carefully. His nerves were a natural reaction to his situation. Unconsciously his eyes, always a dull and unnerving red glow since he had changed, flashed a harsher red. Aneirin smiled, or at least pursed his lips, at this, and broke the mounting silence.
"Your parents are human, aren't they?"
The young sidhe nodded again. He wasn't sure where this new track of questions might lead. Aneirin waved his hand dismissively.
"You are now a Changeling, one of the kithain. Forget about your past, your human family, your old friends, your old school, all of that, because frankly, it is now meaningless to you." The emphasis he put on the word 'human' made Jeremy uncomfortable. He knew his life had changed, but it seemed quite a drastic step to simply give up on it completely, or to give it up completely. He wasn't even sure that it was the same thing, or which his violet haired host had meant. "Unless," the lord continued, pausing to be sure he held wholly captive his charge's attention, "they can do something for you."
"What do you mean?"
"People are marvellous tools. Use them, if you can think of any use for them."
Jeremy thought for a moment before replying, casting his eyes aside so that Aneirin
might not so easily read the doubt, suspicion,, and even apprehension, that he felt still.
"So this," he gestured to himself, "means that I never see my parents again, unless it is to trick something out of them, then."
Aneirin's features turned hard as ice and as sharply serious as an iron blade. "Think about it, Jeremy. What do your parents do?"
"My dad is a professor of history and mythology at Acadia. My mom is a legal secretary." He felt a defensive pride. His parent's work, especially his father's, had always interested him, and they had encouraged him to involve himself in their interests, as much as they had involved themselves in his. In the end it seemed that there was little difference between them, and the boundaries between their domains were often blurry.
"Really?" The stern look melted for a moment, morphing into mild surprise. "That's excellent... although it would be human history and human mythology."
This reaction surprised him, but it made him more defensive as well. He wasn't quite prepared to start seeing his family as tools, yet. "Is this where you tell me that everything he has learned is wrong too?" he challenged.
Aneirin did not take the bait, but rather answered as if it had been an honest question.
"By 'human' mythology I mean it probably has some grain of truth to it but has likely been altered by those who documented it, those who translated it, those who collated it, and all the millions of other human hands that it has passed through. So no, I would never say that it is all wrong, and it could actually be quite useful to you." Jeremy could tell that this was something that the lord could probably expound on further, as well as being common knowledge to most scholars in the field, but instead Aneirin stopped, and resumed an echo of his sterner countenance from earlier.
"But, Jeremy, you say your parents are human. You are not, anymore. The lives of humans, and what you have now become seldom cross, because humans for the most part can't bring themselves to believe that such as we might exist. Do you understand?" He leaned closer to reinforce the importance of the statement, and to better assess how well his statements were being received. Jeremy still fought to keep his face a mask, but he thought that maybe he did understand, and wished he didn't, wished he wouldn't have to accept it. "Humans see us as creatures of your father's mythology," Aneirin continued, "which most of them believe is an explanation of things beyond their ken. Since it is beyond their ken, they prefer to sweep it underneath the carpet, so to speak. They would rather not deal with things they do not understand."
Jeremy looked away again, searching the room for arguments against the logic, and for some tool to help him combat the strange sense of guilt that was growing inside him. It was as if he knew, in the end, that he would have to accept Aneirin's words, but needed to fight back regardless.
"Jeremy, I would like you to know that I encourage you always to speak your mind. If you feel you can share your thought with me, tell me. The pursuit of knowledge is never-ending, and ideas you have may further my own understanding of things."
It reminded the youth of something that his father might have said, or maybe something he had said, and it struck him as ironic. Other thoughts were brewing as well, and it was likely these that Aneirin sought to draw out.
"I hope you will view my ideas as a way to expand your own body of knowledge," he added, encouraging like a teacher trying to gain the trust of a new class. "Not as dogma. You may embrace or reject them as you see fit."
"I've always been different," Jeremy offered eventually. "But people have come to accept me anyway. Why is that going to change now?"
The older sidhe closed his pale purple eyes and 'hmmed' savouring the question. "Why have you been seen as different? Because of your colouring, or something else?"
"Mostly because of that."
Aneirin nodded sagely, and hmmed again. "Humans can explain away your colouring. It's a genetic default, which results in the lack of pigmentation. They understand that. They can come to accept it, though I expect it took your schoolmates quite a while to accept you initially." He snapped his fingers casually, and Jeremy found himself floating in the middle of the room. "But how would they explain away this?"
It wasn't an unpleasant sensation or anything. He was simply...floating, three feet above his seat. He reached up to touch the ceiling, staring downwards in surprise.
"If we were outside, or in a larger room, I could make you fly. On your own... no wings or engines, or any other aides that humans could explain away. And would make most of them very uncomfortable, if they knew. You can learn how to do this, too."
"How?" he asked, the debate and reason for the demonstration put out of mind. He could move, but not move himself anywhere. The power clearly came from Aneirin, but he wasn't afraid. He was curious.
"Ah-ha," his teacher smiled. "It's a cantrip. One of many that you may wish to study." It was quite clear that he had captured the younger man's attention now, so he set him back down into his seat. "You can do it if you believe you can, and if you know the right way to manipulate certain things."
"But if there is no cause to do that in front of humans..." Jeremy sought to recollect his thoughts, not wanting to be as easily distracted as a child by this new toy.
"You catch on very quickly," Anerin commended. "You don't have to do that in front of humans, so you can still associate with them, of you like." Jeremy thought for a moment that the man was changing his mind, but was quickly corrected. "The thing is, what will you discuss with them?"
"The same things I discuss with them now, I suppose," Jeremy replied, thinking again of his parents, and especially his father. Aneirin simply shrugged.
"True, but I think soon enough, as you learn more about being a changeling, your old life may grow... a bit dull." Jeremy looked dubious, but his mentor persisted. "And you are bright enough to understand that the things I can teach you aren't really suitable topics for conversation. In fact, you'd likely end up on a psychiatrist's couch."
Jeremy smirked, and Aneirin responded in kind.
"What, already been there?" he teased.
"Not yet," replied the youth.
"And you won't, either. Just to have undergone the change, I know you must be somewhat open to all of this. Some never do. But I think that this may be a good time to tell you about what you are, and how you came to be..."
***
Jeremy was not initially allowed to leave the bunker to which he had been brought. He thought it an appropriate term. The place was luxuriously furnished and quite comfortable, but there were no windows and his vague impressions of the journey there led him to believe the place to be underground. Aneirin granted him access to his library, and nothing in the small self-contained bunker was forbidden to him except for two places: the dungeons and Aneirin's lab. Two Redcaps, Draco and Tel, were about to make sure his interests were not too keenly piqued by these areas. The two were brothers, and Draco the eldest. They owned a small store in town as well as serving some of the small household's more obscure needs. The store "DT Hempsters" was actually a not so clever front from which they sold marijuana and other illicit substances imported from other parts of the country. Aneirin himself was not often about, though he would come down on occasion to teach, or simply speak, or a mix of the two. On one of these occasions, he had the Brothers Grimm, as Jeremy had come to think of them, bring down and set up for the two of them a gourmet meal.
"Well, good afternoon, Jeremy," he began. In truth the younger Sidhe had no idea of the time of day, not having seen any natural light for several weeks. It may have bothered him more if his albinism hadn't made his skin and eyes sensitive to the sun. "How have you been making out?"
"Well," he replied.
"Glad to hear it." Aneirin was in excellent spirits, for some unknown reason. "I hope you will join me for dinner."
"Of course." He was hungry, the food smelled absolutely delicious. He was aware, perhaps subconsciously, that it would be an incredibly foolish idea to refuse the hospitality, but it never occurred to him to do so.
"It's fresh from my hotel's kitchens. The Master Chef, Tse, is really quite a treasure."
The two Redcaps continued to bustle about like Boggans for a few moments, while the two Sidhe seated (or re-seated in Jeremy's case) themselves to take part.
"You have a very interesting library," the youth commented.
"Thank you. I've collected my books over years." Aneirin smiled approvingly as his henchman left the two of them alone. "I trust you have found some that interest you? That you enjoy?" Jeremy nodded. "Good. Tell me about them."
"The histories... the magics."
"What have you learned from them? Have they helped equip you for your future?"
"The different versions of each," Jeremy began to explain, but Aneirin 'mmm-hmmed' and cut him off. "Practiced any magic yet?" he interjected.
"Some." He didn't want to expound too much, thinking that he might be simply be interrupted again. The questions brought to mind the pop-quizzes he had been subjected to at school. Presumably once his teacher had been satisfied, they would eat.
"Good." Aneirin's statement of approval reinforced his pupil's theory. "So you've been reading some of the Seelie histories, as well as those of the various kiths?"
This time, Jeremy only nodded. The other man shifted slightly in his chair to scrutinize him better, or to get more comfortable.
"I always enjoy the different perspectives," he philosophized, "I find they give you much to think about." For the most part, the pupil agreed, but there was one thing that he found lacking, and since Aneirin was forever encouraging him to speak his mind, he did.
"Our house is rarely mentioned," he commented. Jeremy wanted to lean more about the group to which, apparently, he belonged.
"Yes. We like to keep it that way."
"It makes it harder to learn anything about it."
"The entire Shadow Court, as a matter of fact, is nearly mythical to those of the Seelie
Court." Aneirin looked as though he had been expecting this discussion to arise, if not tonight, then soon. He also looked pleased. "You can ask me whatever you wish to know," he added, "and I think that you will also find your father's human mythology most useful in the pursuit of knowledge relating to our House."
Jeremy had already made the connection, based on the name and what he had found in books, between his house and the Fomorians, giants of Chaos who had ruled before the arrival of the Tuatha de Danaan in Ireland. Balor, whose single blood red eye could strike a man dead with a single glance, had been their king before his half-breed grandson, Lugh, lead the Tuatha to the final victory at the battle of Mag Turath. But that was not what had piqued his interest at the moment.
"The shadow court?" The term had turned up in his reading, but as with House Balor, little of any usefulness had been associated with it.
"Yes. Our House, House Leanhaun and House Ailil make up the Shadow Court. We tend to move in the shadows of Changeling Society, hence the denomination."
"What do we do?"
Aneirin grinned slightly, noticing the inclusion of himself in Jeremy's statement. "We are the movers and shakers. We pull strings in the background, and make the Seelie dance, and they never know quite who does it. But not for too much longer..."
"What do you mean?" Jeremy cocked his head to the side. Dinner had been put out of mind completely. Aneirin smirked conspiratorially.
"There are great wheels in motion, turning, turning..." he replied enigmatically. The boy sat in thought for a moment, considering what little he knew. His mentor interrupted his thoughts with yet another question. "Have you read your pre-Sundering history, Jeremy?"
"Some of it," he nodded.
"What have you learned about the Seelie and Unseelie courts back then, in your readings?" Aneirin had once more slipped into the role of teacher, and it was a very interesting lesson to be learned, indeed.
"They each ruled for half the year, taking over from each other at the spring and fall equinoxes... Seelie in summer, Unseelie in fall."
"Yes. And what has happened since?"
"The Seelie rule all the time."
"Yes. And why did the courts alternate, before the Sundering?"
"I'm not exactly sure," Jeremy admitted. "The books don't explain everything. It was more than politics. I think it was because of our nature. Our duality represented in our leadership." The duality he referred to was that of the two legacies that were reflected in the personality of each fae. In some the differences between the two halves was very drastic, and in others it was hardly noticeable at all. Either way, it was a proven fact of changeling psychology.
"Yes..." Aneirin replied, frowning thoughtfully at the statement, "but it was also to keep a balance. All things are poised on a knife's edge, and our duality is no exception." Jeremy nodded, wondering if he truly was following the same line of thought. Aneirin continued. "Did you know that everything, all existence, is a carefully choreographed dance? But since the Seelie have ruled nonstop for six hundred years, things have been thrown off balance."
The young Sidhe was certain now that what his teacher was spouting now was personal philosophy. He had read things along similar lines, but this sounded liked something Aneirin believed in, and something his teacher had thought on a great deal. He listened more carefully because of it.
"The dancers make sprightly leaps and airy twirls when the music is slow and somber,
and they move with solemnity when the music is fast. The dance and the music of the spheres are in discord, the balance gone awry, and the orchestra faltering."
It was an interesting analogy, but Jeremy wondered if that was all that was meant by it. In a way, maybe it did make sense...
"And all our other problems... are because of this?" He asked. "Being out of balance?"
"It seems the most likely explanation."
Jeremy wasn't convinced immediately, but it did make sense. He could always read on it more later. It had seemed odd to him that the half year of Unseelie rule had been discontinued when he read it the first time. He saw the root problem to be fixed, even if not all its symptoms were clear to him at present. "And so the wheels of the Shadow Court turn, to fix this?"
"Something like that, yes." Aneirin smiled enigmatically again.
"And they are turning down in your lab?" He heard strange sounds from that place. He didn't know what was causing them, but he thought if he were being let in on one secret... they may be related things.
Aneirin raised an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth curled up in a smirk. "Not entirely here... And don't think this has all happened in a very short period of time. The wheels have been grinding slowly onwards towards this goal for centuries." He leaned towards his charge, face serious, but with excitement in his eyes. "Do you think it is foolish or rash? Or *not possible*?"
Jeremy wasn't sure exactly what Aneirin meant by his questions, so after a short pause to consider he simply spoke what he could make of it. "It seems to make sense..."
"Yes, it does. And many of both courts have come to a similar conclusion."
"Both courts?" The statement surprised him, though he supposed that there may be some who would question their own power. "I suppose, if they were wise..."
"Yes. The Seelie Courts seem to turn a deaf ear on those soothsayers of doom, however. They prefer not to think that their rule could be flawed. It's only among the Unseelie Court that anyone seems to take things seriously."
Of course those with the power to change things don't want to hear about their faults.
He nodded, and Aneirin continued. "And it is certainly only in the Shadow Court that anyone has the courage, the gall, to actually act upon it."
It struck Jeremy how rational Aneirin seemed about all of this. It made it seem all the more real, and more epic. After only a month, he still would question, secretly, if all that was going on around him, happening to him, was just some sort of insanity. He would only need to look in a mirror to cure his doubts however. This time, he looked up, into the face of his teacher. Aneirin had never told him any title to use, but Jeremy was coming to understand rank and title in the faerie world, and he knew that the man held power over him even if he never did voice it. "And what is going to happen?"
"Well." Aneirin paused, looking up reflectively. "Many things," he continued after a moment. "Even now things are in motion, gathering impetus. There will be a war, most certainly. I will be forcing the Seelie Court's hand in this issue."
This surprised Jeremy. He hadn't realized that all this talk of wheels turning might result in something so...immediate. He hadn't realized exactly how directly involved in things Aneirin was now claiming to be. "You personally?"
"Why not?" His response seemed casual, but Jeremy could read the seriousness behind it. This was what the bolder Sidhe had seemed excited about. "Someone must do it, and I'm already in a perfect position to do so."
"What is your position?"
"Well, not perfect." Aneirin ignored the question for the moment in order to clarify his statement. "Never, ever rely on a false feeling of perfection... But close to." His point made, he turned to consider his charge for a moment. "Dear boy." His voice wasn't patronizing, but proud, though Jeremy wasn't quite sure of what. "I'm a fair bit older than you look. I've been working on this for centuries. Slowly, slowly, gaining the ear of the most powerful Shadow Court members." Jeremy settled himself in to his chair, listening intently. He could tell he had inspired a lecture. Those with experience often wish to pass on their advice, and it is often wise to listen to them. Jeremy knew this, and you'd be better off if you did as well, Caitrin. In any case, Aneirin began.
"You will find that time, and patience, are your best allies. You also must be diplomatic. And you must understand what will draw people to your cause. That is why reading all those histories, from different points of view, is so very useful. You get an insight as to how the minds of the different kiths work, and while I would hate to generalize- never generalize, Jeremy- most members of a kith share a common heritage, a common tradition handed down through the ages, and so it is possible to predict how they may react.
"Offer them what they would like, and then act on it! Give them some of what they want, so they know it is within your power to do so. But don't give it all, not until they've done what you want them to do. And even then, it is useful to hold some back. They'll keep coming, if they think they can get something more from you.
"Also get to know individuals. While the various social gatherings of the Courts may sometimes be dreary affairs, go to them. Speak with people, joke with people. Get to know their names, ask about their families, their farms, whatever. They'll swiftly learn to like you. Be kind to their children. Encourage the best in all your subjects, and they will do their best for you.
"But also, show them a hint of steel, so they know that you are not someone they want to cross."
Jeremy wondered for a moment if that was what went on in the dungeons, the sounds he heard from there, and from the lab.. 'showing people a hint of steel.' He knew there were things he didn't know about his teacher, who was continuing his speech regardless of Jeremy's wandering thoughts.
"...Subtlety. It is another good ally. If someone really displeases you, don't suffer them to live, but don't make a huge affair of their death either. Arrange for them to disappear."
Jeremy's eyes narrowed briefly, the dungeon sounds still on his mind. Aneirin noticed, and paused in his diatribe to address the matter. His own eyes slitted like cutting edges.
"You don't like the idea of killing, do you."
"I've never done it before. I've never needed to." Or needed to think about it, he thought. He had been perhaps somewhat of an outsider to the majority of his peers, but he'd had a strong enough spirit to not let the opinions of others seriously scar him.
"My planning has taken me hundreds of years," the elder rationalized. "I can't afford to have one person, one lonely person, possibly destroy all that. Think of all the lives that have been lost because of the six hundred years of Seelie rule. The lives that never came to be because Banality prevented them.
"A good general knows that to save the country, some soldiers must die. Think of the human world wars. How many people died during them? Thousands. Yet thousands more lived because of the sacrifice of some few."
Jeremy did think on these things, and he thought of the horror the world had first felt when America had dropped its bombs on Japan. He considered the old debate of how many lives it had saved versus how many it had cost.
"Life is cruel, but we must make what we can of it." Aneirin looked him directly in the eye. "And Jeremy, you must learn that truth, embrace it, for otherwise you will never succeed. You can achieve anything you desire, so long as you are willing to take the necessary actions to achieve it. But if you are too weak to do so, you might as well just give up now."
The master paused to let his words sink in, picking at some of the food that had been prepared and brought in for them and had been left to cool for so long.
"I'm not weak," was Jeremy's answer after some consideration. He did know life was cruel, and he could understand the need to protect important ideas. Was is stronger to be willing to die for something, or to be willing to live, to kill...
Aneirin looked at him proudly. "Of course you're not. That's why I am telling you all this. Because I believe you will make good use of it." The pupil smiled in satisfaction. He knew Aneirin would never had told him any of this if he were not a promising student. He suspected that he may have been passed off to a lesser man by now if he been disappointing.
"Have some food," Aneirin offered, having filled his own plate. "It's growing cold." He lifted his plate up with one hand, gestured, and heated it from underneath with a small fireball held in his palm. Jeremy watched him do this, and picked up his own plate, picking over the herb encrusted carcass of the roast pheasant for some darker meat, and portioning out some of the braised summer vegetables. The two ate in silence for a few moments, but it seemed that Aneirin's chatty mood had not entirely left him.
"Have you grown weary yet of the rooms I have given you down here, Jeremy?"
"It's very confined down here," he replied diplomatically.
Aneirin nodded apologetically. "I am sorry for that. And truly, it is not only your mind you must exercise but your body as well. Perhaps you should start learning swordplay, or maybe you prefer archery?" He set down his plate, and Jeremy did as well, for the time being. "More modern weapons are also available, " his teacher continued. "Guns and the like. Does any of that appeal to you?"
"I've taken some fencing..." Most of it had been in order to help with scene choreography for theater. It had interested him, but he had never had enough time to investigate it more thoroughly. He had never felt particularly encouraged by the other students to make time, either. "People think that I'm frail because my skin is sensitive."
"People should learn not to judge others by their appearances." He sounded reproachful, but Jeremy knew that the tone was not meant for him, but rather aimed at the world in general. "But that, too, is something you can turn to your advantage. In some situations, it may be useful to have people underestimate you..." Perhaps realizing that he was beginning down the road to another preachy segue, he trailed off. "Would you like to continue to learn more swordplay, Jeremy?"
"I think I would. I need to do something active."
"Well. There are some good knights at my estate who can teach you a lot. Tomorrow,
I'll start teaching you a useful cantrip so that you'll be able to disguise yourself."
Jeremy nodded, interested in the extra magic lesson as much as the idea of physical activity.
"Then you can come and practice swordplay a few hours each day. I think you are ready to interact a bit more with others of our kind. See what you can learn about my servants... befriend them. Because that's another thing you should know. It is useful to have contacts in all places, regardless of their stations in life. Each person has some talent, skill, or knowledge that may be useful to you. Perhaps not right this moment, but in the future you may be glad of their friendship." Aneirin paused, looking over the room briefly. "Well then." He looked to his pupil again. "You've been immersed in Changeling things for over a month now. What sort of goals would you like to see yourself achieve? What sorts of plans do you have for your future, Jeremy?" He finished the final few bites of his meal, patted at his lips with his napkin, and sat back, ready to talk about Jeremy's future for a while.
"I still need to lean more.... about Magic, and about our house," the youth began. He had been considering his future, but there were still too many things he needed to know about the world that had only recently opened to him before he could be sure what course to set. "And now you're telling me that there is a war coming, and that you hope to change what is. So, I'm not sure what my plans are yet. I suppose I will have to wait and see how the world is reshaped, and fit myself into it."
"No, Jeremy," interrupted Aneirin, "fit the world to yourself. But you have nothing for the immediate future?"
"Right now, you are the only connection I have to the world I'm supposed to belong to now. I don't think that it is enough leverage," he stated, meaning to carve the world in his own image, "unless I want to stand in your shadow forever." Aneirin paused for a moment at that, and Jeremy noticed, steering himself back into the present and more immediate future. "For now, I wish to continue my studies, and expand on them."
"Not forever, Jeremy, but you'd do well to stand there for a while yet," Anerin answered after another moment, grinning slightly. "Very well. Are there any particular areas you'd like to delve into more deeply? This library-" he gestured to the one full of arcane and rare books that they currently were sitting in, "-is by no means all of my collection."
"Oh?" This was surprising. Even as far as mortal texts were concerned, this library was quite well stocked with the exotic. There were tomes of changeling magics older that any record he had ever heard of his father accessing. He wondered how many other hidden stores of secret books his master had hidden, and how far spread they were. There were books in this collection from most continents of the world, and many were from Europe.
"I can bring some further study material in for you, if you like, in areas you are particularly interested in."
"I want to know more about our house... Everything in the histories here is very vague, but contradicts so much of what others says about the Sidhe and the other houses."
Aneirin nodded and 'hmmed' to himself briefly, as if making a mental note, or considering something. "There will be a gathering at my freehold a week from today. I think you might like to come see what it's about. Immerse yourself a bit deeper in Changeling culture."
"That would be interesting," the youth nodded in response. "What is the date?"
"It's one of our festivals- Highsummer Night. July 17."
Jeremy nodded. That meant that today was the tenth... not that it was of any great importance. "That is something else I have been reading about... the various festivals, the reasons behind them."
"Good. Highsummer Night, I'm sure you've read, is one of the few nights of the year that Seelies actually condone interference with mortals. We'll have some enchanted and brought to the Freehold. While they are enchanted of course, they can see us as we truly are, and interact with us. It usually results in an interesting evening."
Jeremy nodded again. He had read about the festival. A glint of something in Aneirin's eye made him think of some of the uses to which the mortals were put, in their enchanted state, and when it ended. They seemed to have their roots in ancient rituals of kingship, when a false king would be made so that he might be ritually sacrificed. He kept his thoughts to himself for the time being.
"Well. Do you have any more questions, Jeremy? Can I do anything more for you this evening?"
"I have a lot to think about now, I think." And he did. He liked to take time after these sorts of sessions to sort out his own opinions and ideas from his teacher's. But he did want to know more. "I'd like to learn more about the Shadow Court, your plans, all of it."
"Well, all in due time, Jeremy, but if you have no further use for me, I believe I have some business to attend to down the hall." The dark look that had crossed his face when they had begun discussing the festival had not quite left him, and Jeremy was not quite sure he was comfortable with it. His mind seemed to be in another place. Aneirin called for Tel, who came in after a moment.
"Tel! Please clean up the meal once young Jeremy has had his fill."
The Redcap grinned at the two of them, wrapping his twisted grey lips around a mouthful of flat short teeth. One of them looked like it might have been chipped. "Sure thing," he quipped to Aneirin, and then turned to the younger of the two Sidhe. "Hi there, kid."
"Hello," he replied simply. He hadn't had much cause to interact with Tel or Draco, and though they had never seemed overly friendly, they had never really bothered him much about anything either.
"Good night, Jeremy," Aneirin said as he stood. Jeremy replied in kind, and watched
him leave and head down the hall, towards the lab.
"Had enough to eat yet, Jeremy?" Tel broke off his thoughts, and the young sidhe picked up his plate again.
"Ahh, no. Too busy listening..."
"Too much here for you?" The Redcap seemed hopeful.
"Help yourself, I don't eat that much."
Tel grimaced grotesquely, exposing again his mouth full of oversized cutting blades in all their glory, before digging in. Jeremy had read all about the appetites of that kith. He'd also learned long ago to shrug off simple bullying antics and more serious intimidation measures. He picked at his food thoughtfully while the Redcap tore into the leavings.
"Draco's missin' out," Tel interjected between mouthfuls. "Has to help the boss."
"Help him with what?"
"Experimentation." The Redcap seemed more interested in eating than talking, but was making so short work of what had been left that it couldn't possibly be an issue for much longer. He crunched through the sternum of the pheasant like it were a stick of celery.
"Oh?" Jeremy prompted.
"The boss is trying to develop the perfect soldier. Fearless, big, and powerful."
Watching Tel eat was an experience. "Hmmm... that makes sense. Loyal too,
presumably." If there were going to be a war... Jeremy wondered what was involved in the creation of soldiers.
"Of course." Tel paused to wipe off some grease from his chin. "All his troops are loyal, 'cept maybe for those Ailil. Backstabbers, the lot of them," he muttered darkly.
"How is he doing this?" Jeremy meant the creation of soldiers, though he wondered too about this army. Where had Aneirin hidden them? Tel smirked.
"Why don't you get him to show you some time? It's really educational. Hawhawhaw."
Jeremy frowned. Tel was mocking him, and he knew there was something he was
missing. "I'm sure he will, in time."
"I don't think you could watch for long. You're too nice."
This felt like a challenge. Jeremy wasn't afraid to meet it. "Oh?"
"Yeah. I remember the first days you were here, you missed your family."
"And? That makes me nice, does it?"
"Makes you a wuss. Do you miss them still, Jeremy?"
In truth he did, thought not as much as he had at first. It did still bother him that he was so cut off from them, because he knew that they would worry. He also knew the kinds of ideas that other people would present to them regarding his disappearance, and he hated to think of them being exposed to that kind of ignorant slander. But he didn't see his attachment to them as a weakness. "Draco's your brother, right?"
"Yeah, he is. Whatcha gonna do about it? He'd tear you limb for limb if you tried
anything, and swallow your still-beating heart whole."
Jeremy shrugged casually, but something made the Redcap look suddenly wary. It must be his eyes. He could tell when they glowed. He couldn't control it, but sometimes he thought they had their own sense of drama. "Awful defensive for someone who thinks that relying on one's family is for wussies," he quipped.
"No way. I'd kill him myself if I had anything to gain from it." It was Tel's turn to shrug, his momentary defensiveness gone. "But right now, suits me fine that he's alive." Jeremy couldn't tell if he was lying or not. "Do you have a brother? Or a sister?"
"No." He'd often mused that you didn't often see parents who had produced one genetically 'defective' baby going back to try again, but he didn't say that.
"Too bad. I've never fucked albino pussy before." Tel grinned to himself, and Jeremy
grinned too, though not sincerely.
"Well, if you ever do, I'm sure your life will be fulfilled. Keep me posted." There was very little anyone could say to him along that vein that didn't simply sound tired to him. He'd been getting similar for seventeen years.
"Hawhaw, that's the spirit, kid. You're not so bad, y'know?"
Jeremy 'hmmed'. He realized he had picked the habit up from Aneirin. "I'd heard that one before."
"Sure. Really, though, you ain't so bad for a Sidhe kid. Most of them are fucking brats. I'd eat 'em all for breakfast if boss'd let me. Maybe I'll get to, tomorrow morning." Tel grinned again, in anticipation. Jeremy wondered what exactly he meant, and if it had anything to do with the experiments Aneirin and Draco were working on at the moment. He was determined not to show the Redcap any more weakness, though, so he let the remark pass with only raising an eyebrow.
"I can't say I've ever met any... except Aneirin." He had met mostly members of the
common kiths since his chrysalis. Karen Cunningham, a Nocker, had been the first he'd met, and he had been able to tell she was afraid of him. He had been confused, but she hadn't been around too long when he'd first encountered Nate's gang. It had been an interesting few weeks. "I don't think he qualifies as a kid, though. Or a brat."
"Nope, and you know, I don't think he's exactly a Sidhe, either. He's a fucking monster."
The way Tel was speaking was making Jeremy apprehensive, but he tried not to show it.
"Oh?" he asked casually.
"Hell yeah. 'S why I love working for him so much. The fringe benefits are great." The Redcap surveyed the decimated remains of dinner, and shrugged. "Well, see ya! Give me a shout when you're done eating."
Jeremy nodded, and resumed picking at his own food, his eyes unconsciously narrowed as he watched the Redcap leave. Tel had also given him a lot to think about.
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-12 04:47 pm (UTC)He's telling the story to his granddaughter. ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-12 04:49 pm (UTC)This is the only one I have - did we actually finish any of the others?
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Date: 2010-09-12 04:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-12 04:56 pm (UTC)