Disclaimer: I you recognize it, it belongs to Anne Bishop.
A/N: I have tried to stay as close to the books as possible. If there is anything you think is wrong or just plain stupid, let me know, and I'll either change it or explain it.
A big THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed! You make me all tingly with happiness!
Without further ranting from me; here is the first chapter. Enjoy!
Saetan sipped his yarbarah contentedly. As much as he loved his grandson, Daemonar was a handful. With the young Eyrien visiting at the Hall Saetan had found these quiet evenings at the Keep to be restorative.
*When he'sss grown you'll misss the little troublemaker.*
Saetan smiled, not surprised that Lorn had heard his thoughts. And if the amusement in the dragon's voice was anything to go by, he wasn't upset about his lair being used as a hideaway.
"True," Saetan admitted. "But with Jaenelle expecting, I'm certain we'll get all the trouble we can handle."
*And more isss coming.* Lorn's voice was wary, his eyes fixed upon the stairs.
Saetan turned to find a black-haired woman leaning casually against the wall. Against the black of her clothes her skin was as ghostly pale as Geoffrey's. Sunglasses hid her eyes.
"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" Her deep, resonant voice held a hint of uncertainty. "I am here on my daughter's invitation."
Lorn blinked in surprise, his tension fading.
*Then I bid you welcome, Lady.*
She smiled faintly and pushed away from the wall, coming closer. She halted a few feet from the two males and looked at Saetan. Her smile turned mischievous.
"Actually, I was invited to the Hall, but since its owner fled the place I thought it better to come here first." She tilted her head to one side as she studied Lorn, apparently listening to some thought he sent her privately. Whatever he said made her chuckle. "I don't see the need to keep secrets from the Caretaker. Don't you think that a son of your soul can handle those truths?"
*I merely pointed out a fact, Lady,* Lorn retorted dryly, once again allowing Saetan to hear him.
The woman laughed again. "Sure you did, and since he's male he'll take your side." The mirth faded from her face as she turned to fully face Lorn. She reached up to remove her glasses and hooked them in the neckline of her top. "I came here hoping we could make peace with each other."
*Peace?* The dragon couldn't have looked or sounded more surprised if the entire Keep had disappeared from above him.
"I haven't been easy on you, I know that, but you love Draca. You chose to stay with her rather than succumb to the sleep of your kind. I think it's time I acknowledged that and stopped seeing you as one of them."
While Lorn seemed to think her words over, Saetan drained his glass of yarbarah. His head was spinning. He had first assumed the strange woman was of Geoffrey's race, but she wasn't a Guardian. In fact, he couldn't detect a psychic scent at all. She felt like a landen, but no landen could hear the broadcasted thoughts of the Blood. How could she know so much about the dragons? And why was her opinion of Lorn matter to him?
*Perhapsss I haven't made it easssy for you either,* Lorn said. *We should have reached out sssooner, let you know that you were welcome here.*
The woman smiled in relief. She closed the distance between them and placed one hand on Lorn's forehead, between his eyes. A tremble ran through her and she closed her eyes for a moment.
"I had almost forgotten…" she whispered. "It's been too long since I've lived among you…"
Stepping back, she slipped her sunglasses on before turning to Saetan. Even with her eyes hidden he felt a brief unease under the weight of her gaze.
"You're Jaenelle's father," she said, her tone making it a statement rather than a question. Saetan nodded anyway as he rose from his chair. Extending his hands in formal greeting he started to introduced himself.
"Saetan Sa- "
"I know who you are." The woman glided across the floor and slipped her hands under his. She pressed upward, letting him know she did not consider herself inferior to him. Her nails dented the skin at his wrists but didn't draw blood. Not yet, Saetan thought to himself.
"I am Yssandra," she continued as she pulled her hands back. "Do you know me?"
Saetan frowned slightly. "I'm sorry, Lady, but I don't remember meeting you before."
The corners of her mouth twitched. He felt a wave of amusement sweep through him, an amusement not his own. Hell's fire, how did she do that?
"I called you the Caretaker. Do you recognize the title, or has it faded from memory as my name did?"
*It hasss been forgotten,* Lorn interjected. *He isss called the High Lord.*
Yssandra waved her hand dismissively. "I have no need for human titles. If I am the only one to name him true, then it is even more important that I do so." A note of urgency crept into her voice and she shook her head as if to clear it. "But that is not why I wanted to see you." She sighed lightly. "My daughter invited me to the Hall. She wanted me to meet my kin, and possibly make a life for myself among them. But I will not enter your lands without your invitation or at least acceptance. I will not be a cause of strife in Dhemlan." She held up a hand to stall Saetan's objections. "I know the Hall is no longer yours, but you are still the Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. You still feel responsible for the land and the people. Therefore, the choice is yours, and only yours."
"Why would I object to you visiting your family?" Saetan was truly puzzled. As strange as Yssandra seemed, he did not think she would be a threat to anyone.
Slowly, she reached up to remove her sunglasses.
*Pleassse, Lady, rethink thisss,* Lorn sent, too agitated to keep the communication private.
"I cannot do this any other way, Lorn. I will be accepted for what I am or not at all." She let the hand holding the glasses fall to her side and raised her eyes to meet Saetan's.
If ever he had thought looking into Jaenelle's eyes and finding Witch looking back at him was unsettling, that time was now passed. Yssandra's eyes were pools of darkness, so dark that he couldn't distinguish iris from pupil. They held the darkness of a night sky littered with stars and the deepest shadows in Lorn's lair, where no light ever reached. They were darker than Ebony, revealing a hint of the power that could be found at the bottom of the Abyss.
"Mother Night!" He staggered backwards, fighting desperately to tear his gaze from hers, to free himself from the pull of those eyes. Knowing full well that he would not survive a descent that deep.
"Quite right." Yssandra slipped the glasses back on.
Saetan sank down into his chair, his mind reeling, trying to comprehend what she had just told him.
"Impossible," he whispered hoarsely.
Yssandra smiled sadly. "The dragons said the same, once."
A long-stemmed wineglass appeared in her hand, filled with what Saetan suspected was yarbarah. Yssandra laid her other hand against the glass for a moment, then held it out to him. When he hesitantly took it and sipped its content, he found that he was right. What surprised him was that the blood wine was warm.
"A simple enough trick," Yssandra said, knowing the source of his surprised expression. "The visual flame was of little use, so I merely summoned its heat. If your kind weren't so concerned with how things usually appear, you could do the same." She sighed and headed for the stairs. Stopping at the lowest step, she turned to look at Saetan.
"Talk to Lorn, think about it; do whatever you need to come to a decision. I will return at dawn." She tilted her head to one side as she studied him. "If you ask me to leave, I will. You need not fear me, Caretaker."
When she disappeared around the bend in the stairs Saetan drained the glass, fervently wishing it was brandy. Even with the blinding headache the liquor gave him, the dulling of his mind would have been welcome.
*She meant what she sssaid,* Lorn sent.
"What?" Saetan was mildly startled by the dragon's voice.
*If she isss not welcome, she will leave. No matter what my kin sssaid of her, Lady Ysssandra hasss never been one to demand anything. Leassst of all acceptance.*
Vanishing the glass, Saetan raised his hands. He absentmindedly rubbed his fingers in circles over his temples, trying to soothe his nerves. Meeting Jaenelle, realizing what power she wielded, was nothing compared to this. Witch in her greatest rage had never frightened him the way Yssandra had. And she hadn't even called on any of her power.
"Why did she ask me for permission? I could do nothing to stop her." Lorn met his eyes patiently, but didn't answer. Saetan tried again. "Why reveal who she is? Would it not have been simpler to hide it?"
Lorn blinked. *You think you've ssseen who she isss?* He sounded genuinely surprised. *Not even the Lady herssself knowsss that anymore.*
Silence fell as Saetan contemplated that.
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Yssandra drifted through the Keep, searching for something - anything - to occupy her mind until dawn. Her first impulse had been to find Geoffrey; he had always been a good friend. With a heavy sigh she admitted that it wouldn't be fair to him. She would find consolation in his company, but if she couldn't stay in the Realms it would be cruel to let him think - even for a moment - that she had returned.
She slipped into the library quietly, a deeper shadow among the numerous ones dancing across the walls. Candles and witchlight illuminated the room, the golden flames of the candles lending a warmer tone to Geoffrey's pale skin.
Yssandra settled in a corner where she could see his face as he read.
For the moment, she was content to watch.
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"She never asked to be accepted for who she was, only what," Saetan said into the stillness of the lair. In his mind he added, How deep into despair has she fallen if she no longer sees herself as a 'who'?
"The daughter she spoke of was Draca, wasn't it?" He barely waited for Lorn's confirmation before continuing. "That night a few weeks ago, the screams… It was her pain we felt. Just like I felt her amusement earlier."
*Draca almossst didn't reach her. If she had failed, I don't know what would have happened.*
Saetan swallowed. When Cassandra had faked her own death, he had been brokenhearted. When he thought Jaenelle agreed to have another legal guardian appointed for her, he had thought to end his life. How much worse would Yssandra have felt to be cut off from her family, from a daughter she obviously loved? If he had been feared for his power, how much worse had it not been for her?
The real question, he mused silently, is whether or not I have the right to deny anyone to be with their family.
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In the east, the night sky had begun to pale.
Yssandra could feel the dawn pressing in on her. Even though the light of day didn't weaken her as it did Guardians and demon-dead, she was always aware of it. To her, it was a constant remainder that she didn't belong, that she stood apart, that she wasn't welcome.
Closing her eyes, she faded into the darkness only to emerge in the stairwell only a dozen steps from Lorn's lair.
She found herself strangely glad that the lair was so deep under ground. If she could not end her exile she would rather not be haunted by the memory of sunlight caressing her skin.
With a small sound of impatience she beat down the nervousness that wanted to rise. She took a deep breath, straightened her spine and entered the lair.
**********************************
Saetan was expecting her. He had turned his chair to face the stair, and still it almost seemed like she simply appeared. There was no sound, no psychic scent, no sense of power to alert him of her presence. It was unnerving that such power could be so easily hidden.
He watched her as she came closer, taking only a dozen steps into the room. There was a determined expression on her face, a tension in her body that bore testament to her unease. He felt better knowing that Lorn was right; she would abide by his decision no matter what it was.
Clearing his throat, Saetan searched for words.
"It was no easy question you gave me, Lady," he began cautiously. "As you pointed out, some might object to your presence and some will undoubtedly fear you."
A wave of sorrow, of hopeless anguish washed over him as Yssandra nodded. When she spoke her voice was barely more than a whisper. "I understand."
"However, I cannot imagine that you would be a threat to anyone at the Hall. And if you did mean them ill, my decision would mean nothing to you." He smiled as he rose to his feet and walked towards her. Halting a few steps away, he held his hands out in formal greeting. "I am honored to welcome you to Dhemlan, Lady."
Yssandra's smile filled him with warmth and an exuberant joy that Saetan had never felt before. He dimly remembered Lorn saying something about that Yssandra had trouble containing her emotions whenever she was truly moved, but he had trouble thinking as a feeling of contentment settled around him.
Tears fell unchecked down her cheeks as Yssandra slipped her hands under his.
"Call me Yssandra," she said, surprising him.
"You are welcome, Yssandra."
Leaning in, she placed a quick kiss on his cheek.
"Thank you."
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A/N #2: Please review, whether you liked it or not. I crave feedback!
Daughter of Night