"Wake up, former Mistress Rose."

Rose woke with a start. She'd fallen asleep at an unfamiliar desk. She'd been up late into the night going over charts and papers, plotting the rise of her son's new Empire. She blinked, disoriented. The room was completely dark, but for a pair of yellow eyes and the faint glow of a crystal shard.

"Gnarl," she breathed.

Fumblingly, she lit a candle, her hands shaking. The tiny flame cast weird shadows over the wizened minion's craggy face.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

She'd always thought of the little creature as mostly harmless- a scheming, devious old backstabber, to be sure, but she'd never thought he could ever really hurt her. Now, alone in a strange room in a conquered palace, she wasn't so sure.

The old minion bared his teeth in something that was almost, but not quite, a smile.

"I've come here to ask you the same thing, former Mistress Rose," he rasped. "What is it you want? Why are you here?"

"This was my Empire," Rose snapped, shuffling the papers on her desk to hide her fear. "I helped found it, and I'm not going to let it fall." She gave him a stern look, trying to stop her hands from trembling. "And I will not let you use my son as a pawn."

"Oh, Rose." Gnarl chuckled, shuffling closer, and Rose found herself pulling back in her chair despite herself. "We are all pawns, in the end."

"He's my son, you monster."

"Monster?" Gnarl cocked his head and grinned at her. "I'm the monster? You're the one who stole him from us, Rose. You're the one who abandoned him. He hasn't forgotten that, you know. And I don't think he'll ever forgive it."

Rose stared down at him, her heart aching.

"Yes," she said coldly. "I expect you'll make sure of that, won't you?"

"Me?" The old minion spread his claws and gave her an innocent smile. "I'm nothing but an adviser. The boy doesn't have to listen to me."

"I won't let him do your dirty work, Gnarl! Whatever it is you're plotting, you-" Rose hesitated, looking down at him. "What did you call him?"

"Er...the Overlord?"

She stared at him, considering.

"You said 'the boy'," she said at last, thoughtful.

Gnarl shrugged a misshapen shoulder, irritable.

"Oh, so what if I did?" he snapped. "The boy, the Overlad, the Overlord, what does it matter?"

The creature cared about her son, Rose realized, in his own twisted, evil way. She was sure, of course, that if a stronger Overlord came along, Gnarl would drop Thorn in a beat of his little black heart. Still, though, the withered minion seemed almost...fond of him.

"Whose side are you on, former Mistress Rose?" Gnarl asked her coldly. "The Empire's side? Ours? Or are you entirely on your own side?"

"He's my son," Rose said tiredly. "Everything I did, I did to protect him. And I will keep protecting him. Even, if I must, from you."

"Hmm." The old minion squinted up at her, evaluating her. "You do care about him, after all."

"I'm his mother!" Rose snapped.

Gnarl chuckled.

"Oh, but that doesn't mean much," he said. "I've known some truly terrible mothers in my time. It comes with the territory, after all." He held out a wizened claw. "Very well, former Mistress Rose. A truce."

She took his claw cautiously and shook it. His skinny hand was surprisingly strong.

"Very well," she repeated. "A truce. For now."

-x-

"Hey. Wake up, sleepybones."

The Overlord stirred faintly and buried his head under the furs. Kelda wrinkled her nose at him and nudged him harder.

"Hey, come on! Get up! You've got a big day of subjugating the populace or whatnot ahead of you, right? I wanna go poke a Senator with my spear."

"Ugh."

"Come on, you Overload, get your ass out of bed!"

He rolled over, pinning her to the bed.

"Is that how you talk to your Emperor?" he asked her.

Kelda made a rude noise.

"Last night you said 'witch boy' fit you better."

"Did I? I don't know, maybe I changed my mind."

"I'm not ever going to call you 'emperor'. Not 'your majesty', neither. Though maybe 'witch boy' doesn't quite suit you now, either."

"Oh? What would you call me, then, peasant girl?"

"Arsehole," She grinned up at him, her eyes dancing. "Bastard. Seal-shagging, walrus-fu-mff!"

"Rude little bitch." He grinned back at her, covering her mouth. "Though I guess I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

She nipped him.

"Ow, hey! Bad Mistress."

"Thought that was why I was your Mistress," she smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Come here."

Her mouth was warm, and he could taste the hunger on her tongue, her slim, strong fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down to her. His hands moved up her scarred sides, slipped over her wide hips, the smooth, taut curve of her stomach, up to cup her breasts. She moaned against him, and he felt her smile as she pushed herself against him, offering herself. He caressed her, gentle, felt her purr, caught her nipples and tweaked, hard. She yelped and bared her teeth at him.

"Ow! Fuck, why so godsdamned rough? Bloody barbarian!"

"Savage."

"Lout."

"Peasant."

She shoved him out of the bed with a laugh. He growled, grabbed her by the waist as he went down, dragged her after him. She squeaked, indignant, and smacked his chest.

"Hey!"

"Rude."

He caught her wrists in one broad hand, pinned her arms above her head. She gasped, her nipples tightening, gave him a cheeky grin.

"What's wrong, witch boy? Afraid I'll scratch those pretty eyes out?"

"'Pretty'!?"

"Come on, I'll be good." She rubbed herself against him, inviting. "You can trust me."

"Sealshit." He caught the loop on her choker, pulled her in for another rough kiss. "You know that's not why I want you."

She caught his lip between her teeth, bit him hard enough to draw blood. He snarled and bit her neck, savage, forced her back against the stone and thrust into her. She cried out, her legs tightening around his hips. He felt her cunt growing even wetter as she adjusted to him, felt her moan as she pulled him deeper into her, her thighs tensing.

"About time, Dark One," she smirked up at him, licked black blood from her lips. "You left me all by my lonesome last night, you'd damn better well make it up to- oh!"

He kissed her fiercely, cutting her off, yanked her wrists savagely back, felt her struggle in his hold, panting.

"Shut up."

She grinned back, her eyes dancing.

"Make me."

He thrust into her, fast and vicious, felt her gasp and twist beneath him, pushing her hips to meet him, felt her legs tremble. She shuddered, crying out, her head thrown back-

"Ah!" she froze, startled.

"What?"

Yellow eyes were staring at her from a gap in the curtain. He followed her gaze, and she heard him growl, a low, dangerous sound. The minion yelped and scurried away. She glared after it, fuming.

"Those little bastards! We need a proper door!"

"Want to go somewhere more private, then?"

To her surprise, he scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, his hand sliding up to cup her ass.

"Hey!" She pounded her fists against his back, felt him laugh. "Arsehole! You horrible witch boy, put me down!"

"Yes, Mistress."

He dropped her down unceremoniously against the balcony outside.

"Ow, hey!"

"Hush, you."

He pushed her down against the balcony and thrust into her again. She gasped, her fingers tightening on the ledge, found herself staring down into the fiery void below. He lifted her hips to his level, her feet leaving the floor, and she squeaked, startled, and wrapped her legs around him, clinging to the ledge, her head swimming, gazing at the inferno below her. She felt her nipples skim the rough, warm stone as he filled her, his skin hot as hearts' blood. She came in a rush, earth above her, fire below.

"Oh, gods!"

She sagged against the balcony, panting. He reached down, pulled her up against him and held her, broad hands cupping her breasts, her feet braced hard against the balcony as he fucked her. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tight to him, though she knew he'd never let her fall. She felt him nip her neck and shuddered, forcing herself down against his cock, her arms tightening as she felt him come.

"Ah! Oooh, yes."

He set her down, suddenly gentle, kissed the back of her neck. She turned and nestled against his chest with a little sigh, leaning against him.

"Was that better?" he asked her.

"Much."

"I never knew you were so...modest."

She frowned, annoyed.

"Oh, hardly. But it's just...ugh. Those little things aren't human, after all, and they keep watching me everywhere I go, just kind of...giggling. You wouldn't understand."

"What makes you think they're all looking at you?" he asked her, amused.

"What?" She wrinkled her nose, confused. "What do you mean? Are you saying some of them...er...prefer men?"

"I'm saying that they're not all male."

"What?"

"Of course there are female minions- they're twice as bad as the males! Where did you think they came from, anyways? Out of thin air?"

"Well, the hives-" She wrinkled her nose again. "How exactly do they..."

"I've never asked. To be honest, I don't really want to know. Why? Do you?"

"No, not really." She leaned back against him with a sigh. "I supposed we'd better get up to the surface, hadn't we?"

"Ugh. I suppose."

"Oh, don't look so gloomy. I'm sure you'll get to do plenty of smiting."

"I do like smiting."

"Come on, Witch Boy." She took his hand. "Let's go show those bunch of whiny Imperials the true face of the North."

-x-

The Overlord sprawled on his makeshift throne, helmeted and armored, wearing rough furs and teeth. His Mistresses lounged with him, watching the proceeding in the conquered throne room with lazy interest. His axe rested just within reach, scarred and pitted, and armored minions flanked the throne.

Rose smiled, watching him from her post behind the throne. Her son looked like a barbarian lord out of some bard's tale, a brutish, feral conqueror, out of place among the white marble and tiled frescoes. The effect, she knew, was wholly intentional.

The merchant guild masters certainly didn't seem to know how to handle him. They'd come storming in with a flurry of rich robes and flashy jewelry to demand he open the ports. He'd yawned extravagantly and made a great show of polishing his axe. They'd retreated into a huddled, muttered conversation, as minions circled them like curious sharks.

"Can we treat with this barbarian, do you think?" she heard one ask worriedly. "Does he even speak Common? I don't think he understands us, do you?"

"We simply must have the ports opened again, this silly war has gone on far too long! And he must return our confiscated cargo! We have our profits to think of!"

"Do barbarians understand economics, though, do you think?"

"Hold on."

A fat, squat little man waved a jewel-encrusted hand. Rose frowned at him, trying to remember what she knew about him. He was the head of the Slavers' Guild, she thought, a deeply unpleasant fellow with a tendency to talk over everyone else.

"I will speak to this barbarian," The slaver continued pompously. "Many of my slaves have been from Nordberg, after all. I know how their little minds work up there. We'll just offer him seals, and gold, and women, and maybe then he'll go away."

Rose hid a smile, and Gnarl glanced up at her, amused.

"This is certainly going to end well," he murmured.

The merchant waddled forward and cleared his throat.

"Excuse...me...my...lord," he said very slowly and loudly. "We...need...the...ports... opened. Do...you...understand?"

The Overlord straightened in his throne, tilted his head. The merchant sighed, glanced back at the other guild masters.

"Barbarians, you know," he said. "I'll try again." He raised his voice even louder. "Excuse...me...sire! Do...you...speak...Common?"

"Yes. Probably better than you do, actually," the Overlord said, sounding amused. "Do you always speak that slowly? Because we'll be here all day if you do."

The merchant blanched. The Overlord had a rather thick Northern accent, but it was obvious he'd understood everything perfectly...and had probably overheard the guild masters' whispered conference. He wiped his brow, beginning to sweat.

"Er, my apologies, Lord. I wasn't sure whether or not you spoke Common, so..."

"So your solution was to shout at me until I understood?"

"Ah..."

"But you're not here to discuss linguistic learning programmes, are you?"

"Ah..." The merchant swallowed hard, recovering. "No, my Lord. We'd like you to open up the ports and return our ships to us, ah, with the cargo on them, intact."

"Hmm."

The barbarian Lord cocked his head again, staring at him with those eerie gold eyes. The merchant tugged at his fine silk cloak, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

"Er, if it's not too much trouble, my Lord." He straightened, tried an unctuous grin. "We are prepared to compensate you, of course. We have many seals. We can give you many pelts. Ooh, and these very valuable gems, of course."

He waved a hand, and a pair of servants scurried forward and opened a chest, held it out for the Overlord's perusal. The Dark Lord swatted it idly from their hands, sending stones ringing across the floor.

"I have plenty of treasure," he rumbled. "And seals? Really. Where do you think I would keep them, even if I wanted them?"

The wizened creature that crouched beside his throne reached out and picked up a stone, examining it curiously. He laughed, a deeply unpleasant sound, and the merchant felt the blood draining from his round cheeks.

"Glass, Master," the creature said. "They tried to buy you off with bits of colored glass!"

The Overlord growled, turning his bright gaze onto the merchants. The fat little man in front of him took a staggering step back, waving his hands frantically.

"Oh dear, we must have been cheated!" he exclaimed. "Please, forgive us, my Lord, we had no idea. We can give you gold, if you like." He hesitated, beady eyes lingering on the Mistresses. "Or girls! All the girls you could possibly want, my Lord. Human, and elvish! The sweetest little slaves, fresh from the North, hot from the Sanctuaries-"

One of the women moved at that, a red-haired human woman, slid off the arm of the throne with a feral snarl. The Overlord glanced at her, back at the merchant.

"My First Mistress was a slave, thanks to your Empire," he said coolly.

First Mistress? The merchant thought, and swallowed hard. Oh, dear.

The woman made a low, angry noise, her hand on the hilt of a very long knife. The merchant took a step back.

"Do you really think I can be bought with gold or flesh?" the Overlord asked, his voice hard. He turned to the red-haired woman. "What do you think? Should we kill him?"

"Yep," she snapped.

"Ah, but you say that about everyone, my love."

My love?! The merchant thought, and began to shake in his gilded boots. Oh, oh dear.

"Yes, but I mean it especially this time." Kelda jabbed her thumb downwards, a gesture she'd picked up from the Imperials. "Kill the bastard. Or, better yet, let me kill him."

The merchant swallowed again, trying to regain his footing.

"Sire...really...are you going to let your slave speak to me that way? Really, your women should know their place!"

To his surprise, the Overlord laughed. The merchant smiled uncertainly. Laughter was a good sign, he thought...wasn't it?

"My slave?" The Overlord asked, fighting to keep the humor from his voice. "Kelda, what do you think of that?"

The girl just made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, leaning on his shoulder.

"She's not my slave. They're not 'my' women. They're Mistresses." He glanced at Fay. "What do you think we should do with him?"

"He's very rude, isn't he?" She tilted her head, birdlike, and studied him. "Target practice, maybe."

"Juno?"

"Hmm...well, that cloak is so last-season, and the rest of him is pretty much a crime against fashion, so...sure. Kill him."

"Rose, what do you advise?"

He didn't call her 'mother', still, and that stung a bit. Rose lifted her chin, trying to ignore the slight. Her chilly green gaze swept the merchant from head to foot.

"This man is the head of the Slavers' Guild," she said, her voice harsh. "We already have a slave rebellion on our hands, and we can't afford dissent right now. Disbanding the Guild will mollify the rebel slaves and make them more pliable. Do as you like with him."

"I'm sure I can think of something," The Overlord growled.

The red-haired peasant girl gave the slaver a predatory smile.

"Wait, wait!" The merchant protested. "Please, don't kill me!" He mopped at his brow, frantic. "You...you can have my fleet, my lord! And all the slaves in the market! My house, my family, anything you like, just please, don't kill me!"

"Charming," The Overlord said dryly. "But very well. I won't kill you."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, my Lord!"

"Take him away to the Arena."

"What? But my Lord, you said you'd spare me!"

The Overlord sighed.

"I said that I wouldn't kill you, not less than a minute ago. Didn't you hear me? You really ought to have a better understanding of basic Common." He gestured, and the minions scurried forward and seized his arms with needle-sharp claws. "Get him out of my sight."

He turned his attention to the remaining merchants.

"I will open the ports," he said calmly. "The merchant guilds will be responsible for making the docks serviceable, and for their continued maintenance."

"And our cargo, Lord?" A thin, ancient-looking man asked his querulously.

"Consider it my spoils of war. A tax, if you like, on top of what you've already been paying the Empire." He glanced at Rose. "The guilds have been paying their taxes, yes?"

"I can launch an investigation into their accounts," Rose said.

"Ah...that won't be necessary." The man swallowed, throat bobbing. "Thank you, my Lord. We will do as you command."

"You are dismissed."

The merchants practically tripped over each other in their hurry to leave.

When they had gone, he slumped with a sigh, pulled the helmet off and handed it to a minion. Rose nodded at him, pleased.

"Well done," she said approvingly. "Though that last bit was a trifle petty."

She'd spent the last few days briefing him on the various guilds and factions in the city. He'd done better than she'd hoped, she thought, proud, though he hadn't seemed to pay her much attention at the time. He seemed to have a natural knack for it- he took after his father in more ways than one, it seemed.

"I think I've earned the right to be a little petty every now and then." He scrubbed at his face, tired. "If I have to deal with another oily Imperial or blubbery merchant I swear to the gods I'm going to launch them all out of a catapult."

"And I'm bloody hungry," Kelda growled, sitting back down on the arm of the throne. She glared after the merchants. "You should have let me kill him."

"Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of marble?" Rose asked her, dismayed.

Kelda just shrugged, sulky. Juno examined her nails, obviously bored, and Fay was staring off into the middle distance. The Overlord slumped even lower in his throne, glowering.

"I think we could all use a break," Rose said, eyeing them. "And a meal. We can pick this up again tomorrow."

"More whiny merchants?" her son asked her wearily.

"Worse. Senators."

"Oh, good."

"Come on, witch boy," Kelda snapped, tugging at his arm. "I'm starving. Let's go see what Quaver's managed to grub up around here."

"Oooh, yes, let's!" Juno took his other arm, ignoring the look Kelda gave her, smiling up at him. "I'm so excited! It's been so long since I've had something other than peasant fare. I can't wait for you to try real food, Master."

The great palace banquet hall had been converted into a mess. Rose surveyed it with dismay, watching minions squabble with each other, flinging plates that cost a small fortune against the walls. "Mess" was an appropriate name, indeed.

Kelda flung herself into a chair that had been grown by Elvish masters centuries ago, rocking it back on its legs. Rose winced.

"I'm starving," she complained. "How long's this going to take?"

"You can't rush good Empire food," Juno snapped, settling herself next to her with a rustle of silk.

"I don't care, I just want something to eat!"

"You don't know anything about the finer things in life," Juno sniffed.

"Are you quite sure that Quaver knows what he's doing?" Gnarl asked her. "I heard a bunch of screaming from the kitchens earlier. Quite a few minions seemed to be on fire. We're lucky they didn't burn this whole place down."

"I gave him a couple of recipes," Juno said airily. "How hard can it be?"

"Oh, you cook, then?" Kelda asked her archly.

Juno looked down her nose at her.

"No, sweetie. We had...slaves...for that."

Kelda bared her teeth. Juno smirked at her.

"For you!" Quaver stumbled to the great table, smeared with soot and unidentifiable fluids, laid a platter proudly before them.

"Oh!" Juno clapped her hands, delighted. "Quail's eyes in cream sauce, just the way I like it!"

Kelda pushed herself back from the table abruptly, covering her mouth with a hand.

"Excuse me," she said faintly.

The Overlord looked after her, frowning.

"She usually has a stronger stomach than that." He speared an eyeball, gave it a wary look. "Am I supposed to feel like it's staring at me?"

"I'm afraid that's part of the experience," Rose said. "It's best not to make eye contact with it, if you can avoid it."

"I'll go after her," Fay said softly.

Gnarl climbed down painfully from his chair.

"I'll go make sure they don't kill each other, Master."

Fay padded after the girl, found her doubled over in the hallway, retching into a vase.

"Kelda?" she asked. "Are you alright?"

Kelda wiped her mouth, gave her a dubious look. She still wasn't quite sure whether or not to trust the elf, despite all they'd been through together.

"I'll be fine," she said. "I've just caught a touch of something, I think."

"Hmm." Fay drifted closer, laid a hand on her forehead. "No fever. How long has this been going on?"

"On and off the past few weeks," she admitted.

Fay stared at her.

"What?" Kelda asked.

"How long has it been since your last moon cycle?"

"Well, let's see...it's been..." She ticked off the weeks on her fingers, stopped short. "Oh. Oh, no."

"Congratulations, little snow mouse. You're pregnant."

Gnarl puffed his way around the corner, hobbling to them, clutching at his back.

"Oh, my aching claws," he groused. "You ladies are so sprightly, always leaving me in the dust." He looked back and forth between them. "What's wrong?"

"That..." Kelda shook her head. "No, I can't be pregnant. It's not possible."

Gnarl grinned at her, waggled his ears.

"Really? With the way you two've been shaking the Tower?"

She was pacing, running her hands through her tousled hair.

"I can't be! I can't! I took precautions, after all!"

"What sort of precautions?" Fay asked her.

"I have an amulet, it's spelled to keep this sort of thing from happening!"

"A magic amulet?" Gnarl asked her.

"Yes, of course!"

"May I see it?"

"Sure." She fished it out of a pocket in her skirt. She'd been carrying it around since she'd first started her moon's blood, had hardly ever even thought about it over the years. "I've made sure it's charged on a yearly basis, and I- oh."

The amulet was twisted and blackened. She stared down at it.

"How?"

"Just as I suspected." Gnarl peered at it.

Fay took it from her unresisting hands, examining it.

"It looks like it's burned itself out," she observed. "Like it's come into contact with some really powerful magic."

"Oh," Kelda said faintly. "Oh. Oh no."

"The Master sometimes has a tendency to accidentally...overcharge certain magical items," Gnarl said. "Little amulets, small charms, that sort of thing. Once, when he was a boy, he even blew up a temple! That was quite the sight. He has more control these days...but I'm guessing you never told him you had this, did you?"

"No," Kelda said, reeling. "I...I didn't even think about it."

She sat down abruptly on the stone floor, put her head in her hands. Gnarl hobbled over to her, patted her shoulder.

"Now, Mistress Kelda, please, don't look so upset! You're going to be the mother to a little Overling! How exciting!"

She sniffed, her eyes brimming with tears. Gnarl stopped short

"Oh, no."

"I don't know how to be a mother!" she wailed. "I don't know the first thing about raising a child! I'm going to be a terrible parent!"

"Oh, Mistress." Gnarl patted her shoulder again, trying to reassure her. "If a Towerful of minions can manage to raise the Master into a...mostly functional Overlord, I'm sure you'll do just fine."

She just sobbed harder. He gave Fay a despairing look. Fay sat gracefully on the floor, and, after a second of hesitation, put her arms around the other woman. For once Kelda didn't pull away, sniffling into her shoulder.

"It will be alright, little snow mouse," she said calmly. "You have options, after all. There are ways to end a pregnancy."

"What?" Gnarl cried.

Fay gave him a hard look.

"This doesn't concern you." She turned back to Kelda. "Although, either way, it's a tough choice. If nothing else, I think you should talk to the Master."

"What if he's angry?"

"He loves you," Fay told her softly, ignoring the twinge in her heart at the words. "You'll be alright."

Kelda pulled away, wiping her nose.

"I cried all over your dress," she muttered. "Sorry."

Fay rose, offered her a hand. After a moment, Kelda accepted.

"Thank you," she said faintly. "This is...really kind of a shock." She glanced at Gnarl, thoughtful. "You knew, didn't you?"

He had the grace to look a bit embarrassed.

"Yes, Mistress."

"How?"

"It was after you were wounded, Mistress. Mort told me that he sensed two spirits inside you- your own, and a smaller spark, growing deep inside you."

"Oh," she said faintly, thoughtful. She glanced at the two of them. "Don't tell him yet, please? Don't tell anyone. I'll talk to him soon. I just have to figure out how first."