Warning: Sexual innuendoes and the toss-around of the word "whore." It may trigger some people.

Chapter Soundtrack:

"Scarf Dance," from Avatar: The Last Airbender.
"Korra Confronts Tarrlok," from Legend of Korra.


Three: Bayonet

She wasn't hiding.

There was an implication, she thought, to the word "hiding" that connoted shame, humiliation, cowardice. She was not frightened, nor was she ashamed, and Lan Fan was certainly no coward. Everything she had done until now proved that. Everything she had done since she'd returned to Xing had proven that. This, she thought, frowning at the deel that tangled in her legs and the shoes that clicked as they walked, proved that much.

So no. She was not hiding. Nor was she skulking, cowering, cringing, or indulging in a useless moment of silly, girlish terror. She was merely observing the enemy from a concealed position, which was the best possible spot for a spy, and there was nothing more to be said on the matter. Lan Fan settled deeper into the shadows behind the potted Qarashi plant that had been a gift from an ambassador decades ago—the plant would have long since died if it hadn't been for the palace alkahestrists—and picked at her fingernails with the short knife she had insisted on keeping on her belt. Her longer assassin's knife was still strapped to her thigh, a hole cut into the pocket of her deel so she could grab it when she needed it, but the little knife was perfect for Feiyan Ma—weathered iron and a handle made of cracked but polished deer antler. There was a small iron cap on the end of the handle, which could be spun aside to reveal a bead of cyanide, should she need it. She scraped at the dirt under her thumbnail—she'd forgotten how dusty horses could be—and kept her eyes on the crowd.

It was the Empress Dowager's birthday. The Yao crest had been painted on the broad Hailing Wall of the Hall of the Golden Lotus, in vibrant hues of gold and crimson—imperial colors. Before it sat the Emperor and his mother, and when Lan Fan peeped up through her elaborate hairstyle—Niu Lu's idea, not hers—at the imperial seats, she felt something inside her clench, hard and painful. This was the first time in the two weeks since she'd revealed herself as Feiyan Ma, steppes warrior, that she had seen her master, and the fact that he was whole and hearty was not helping her settle like she had expected. If anything, it was just making her feel worse. Guilt strangled her guts. Lan Fan forced herself to look away. There is no point in this, she told herself. You are not the only one who can protect him. There are many others, probably many far more capable than you.

She dug her knife so deep under the nail that she drew blood. Lan Fan stuck her finger in her mouth and turned back to the crowd again. Someone—and she had a very good idea of whom, considering the look of pleasure on Shen Liu's face—had hired Zhao acrobats. It was only natural, considering that Huian Yao had been a Zhao, once upon a time. They flickered and tumbled through a wide space that had been cleared for them in the Hall; guests clung to the walls like dust. Some watched. Most whispered. She could see the Princess Chang standing apart, glimmering like a child at the sight of the acrobats; sometimes it was hard to remember that she was still only sixteen. She acts like an old woman, Lan Fan thought, and then scoffed at herself. Anyone who had had the running of a clan as large and as poorly as the Changs thrust upon them at the age of thirteen would certainly act like an old woman, especially one who had been as bubbly and naïve as Mei Chang had been when they'd all tumbled about Amestris.

She did not wonder why her master did not act the same way. After all, he had actually wanted the crown, and the power that came with it. She strongly suspected, after the limited contact she had had with Mei Chang over the years, that all the seventeenth princess had ever sought was a way to rescue her family.

Alphonse Elric was not present. She could only thank the stars for that. Lan Fan pulled her still-bleeding finger from her mouth, inspected it, and then wondered if Niu Lu would kill her if she managed to get blood on her deel. There was something pricking at her about Mei Chang that bothered her, and it was only once she saw Princess Chang turn and accept a flute of something sparkling from a servant that she realized it: Princess Chang was in Amestrian clothes. Well, not quite Amestrian, she thought; she could see the mark of Xing all over it, from the elaborate buttons to the delicate silk. It clung to her skin, sleeveless and with a high collar. It was Chang pink, and a slit up the side stretched almost to her thighs. It was, Lan Fan thought, the most daring dress she had seen on anyone, even in Amestris; she had had no time for fashion in that wretched country. At any rate, it was the most modern ensemble in the Hall of the Golden Lotus, and probably the most audacious.

Except, she realized, for Feiyan Ma, who had not yet stopped wearing deel in favor of court fashions. The difference was Mei Chang was getting compliments or avoidance, with nothing in between; Feiyan Ma was getting everything from being openly mocked to having filthy notes shoved under her door in the night. Inbred horse-wife was the tamest thing she'd been called so far. Shen Liu had made his mark.

Lan Fan pressed her lips tight together, and wondered: if she had actually been Feiyan Ma, would she have dared stay beyond two days?

The Feng triplets were here. When she caught Dong Mao looking at her, Lan Fan's heart skipped a beat. She sheathed her knife, and put a hand in her pocket to check that her real blade was still strapped to her thigh. They hadn't approached her, hadn't dared—after all, she was the latest court chew-toy, the lowest of the low, not someone to care overly much about. Her daring entrance had kept her in the forefront of everyone's mind, however, even now; she still had people lowering their eyes and speeding past her, as though she was going to attack them. The Lady Suyin, the commander's wife, had a plan to get her into the Fengs' good graces, but for now, Lan Fan had her own strategies.

The acrobats finished. Nobles clapped politely. Lan Fan stowed her knife back into its sheath and emerged from behind her potted plant. Suyin was on her in an instant.

Suyin was, Lan Fan thought, altogether too beautiful to be human. The only thing that made her a woman, instead of some trickster fox spirit, was a strong nose and a small gap between her two front teeth. How a woman like this—a woman who seemed to be made of cream and ebony silk—had come out of the weather-beaten, hard-brow steppes tribes was completely beyond Lan Fan.

And then she'd gone riding with the woman, and had fallen so far behind that she'd actually felt ashamed. Lan Fan was a good rider, but Suyin and her horse were the same being. The stallion—for it was a stallion, not a gelding or a pretty gilted mare like the court preferred ladies to ride—seemed to obey her every thought. It was a magnificent black, compared to the dun mare that they had found for Lan Fan; Suyin had raised him from a colt. Commander Yao had tried to keep them from going out on Suyin's dawn rides—his wife was, after all, pregnant—but Suyin had given him such a mighty and implacable look that he had backed down. "All women in our tribe do as I do," said Suyin. "We ride until we can no longer mount a horse. Is that not true, Feiyan?"

Lan Fan had nodded, unsure of what else to do. She remembered so little of the steppes that she couldn't have possibly contradicted Suyin, even if she had wanted to. To be absolutely frank, she hadn't really wanted to. Getting out of the court had always been a deeply cherished desire, and to have a ready excuse for it—well, she wasn't about to let that pass up, no matter how disloyal it made her feel.

But there was something in her, she had thought, as she and Suyin had crested a hill above the capitol, and she had looked down on the walls of the Imperial Household, that begged for open land and for sunlight and for wind in her hair. That was what had kept her sane while they'd been in Amestris, she was certain. New land and new places to scout out, to explore. It was the one thing expected of her, in her cover as a steppes woman, that she did not have to pretend to, and she embraced it.

Of course, Suyin had a court side to her too, and it was that Suyin that was barreling towards her now. Pretty, plush, and painted, Suyin had her long black hair done up in an elaborate design that was probably murdering her scalp, and her gown was only so traditional; instead of a long skirt, it separated below the waist into two loose trouser legs, which were cinched in tight around her ankles. Her silk jacket, light and thin, was covered in the oak leaves of the Yao.

"There you are," she said, and her smile was all wolf: teeth, but no pleasure. "I've been looking for you, dear cousin; how easily you go astray."

"The crowd is overwhelming me," said Lan Fan, struggling to put herself back in the northwestern accent she so desperately needed. Two weeks into the game and she was better at putting on the mask of Feiyan Ma—though she was still not as good as she wanted, and Lan Fan still beat at her core—but the accent was giving her so much trouble. It drove her crazy. "I needed a moment to myself."

"Of course it would." Suyin held out her arm, and Lan Fan settled her palm in the crook of the woman's elbow. It was the same thing any cousin would have done, the same thing any sister would have done, but it still felt terribly fake. "After so many years out on the steppes I suppose a place like this would be terribly crowded and noisy to you, wouldn't it?"

Lan Fan nodded, and then let Feiyan Ma have free reign. "It stinks," Lan Fan said, and several of the ladies who had followed Suyin—Lus all, with their pretty little mouths—sniffed and tugged oh-so-subtly at their clothes, lifting their fingers to smell. Suyin threw her head back and laughed, and for a moment Lan Fan hated her. Even her laughter was pretty. When Lan Fan laughed (and that was rare enough she couldn't remember the last time she'd done it) she had the most unappealing sort of manly chuckle that ended with her lungs creaking. Suyin sounded like tinkling wind chimes.

"It's the incense that burns here, cousin. It's new, of course, but you'll get used to it. I did. It does wear on the senses at first, though." Suyin smothered a giggle and tugged Lan Fan into one of the corners of the room, her train of Lus following like ducklings. "I'm so glad you've come here, cousin," she added, and her voice, too, dipped back into the northwestern accent, shifting dialects, subtly ousting the Lus from this suddenly private conversation. "There are some people who would like to meet you."

Lan Fan did not smile, but the corner of her mouth did turn up a little bit. "I suppose I shall like these people as much as I like anyone here, cousin."

Suyin's smile was still razor sharp. "Of course."

Frankly, Lan Fan was surprised anyone even wanted to be introduced to Feiyan Ma, after the debacle that had been her court introduction. It had been the only thing she'd been able to think of, at the time, and it hadn't had a negative effect, per se; it had just made things slightly more difficult than she'd anticipated. Suyin's Lu girls had been the only ones who had come near her since the incident, and even then they circled her like moons around a particularly smelly planet. They still gave her funny looks when they thought Suyin wasn't looking. Like now, Lan Fan thought, as one of the girls—she couldn't keep their names straight—turned to her fellow and whispered something that sounded distinctly like "stupid half-horse bitch" into her friend's ear. Lan Fan did not react. Letting on that her hearing was that good was pointless, and besides, she'd been called worse.

"Lead the way," said Lan Fan, and Suyin patted the back of her hand, digging in with her long crimson nails. Then she scooted around the performance circle—there were fire dancers now, with hot flowers blossoming out their mouths—and led the way towards the opposite side of the room to the Feng triplets.

Lan Fan had been at court for too long not to recognize the people Suyin found for her, even if she didn't know them by name. There was the Master of the Horse, who nodded to them every morning when they struck out at dawn for the hills beyond the city—Jian Zhang, a cousin of the Minister of the Right. He was gruff and unassuming, and Lan Fan decided to like him. She did not decide to trust him. Then there was one of Suyin's court friends, Biyu, a fluffy and charitable younger daughter of one of the branches of the Chang. Mei Chang's seventh cousin once removed, Lan Fan's mind supplied, as she and Suyin chatted about flowers and the upcoming candlelight festival. She had to be at least twice Mei Chang's age and double her girth, but there was something of the seventeenth princess in her manner all the same. At the buffet table, once Lan Fan had been (re)introduced to Mingli Chen, a shy, pockfaced noble boy who stammered when he spoke.

"My lord Chen has only been at court for a few weeks, cousin," said Suyin, ignoring the clear terror on his face; it was obvious that talking not to just one, but two heathen horsewomen of the steppes was a bit too much for him. "He is a phenomenal hand at research. Perhaps you can discuss some of the older and more—esoteric—" her nose wrinkled "traditions of the court with my cousin, my lord? My husband cannot teach us both."

To Lan Fan's surprise, Mingli Chen agreed. He had a bit more steel in his spine than she'd figured, when he'd been introduced to court a month ago. Then, she'd still been the Shadow, and she'd been able to see his knees quaking from five steps behind the Lotus Throne.

It was just when they'd begun circling around towards the Fengs that a veritable kerfuffle of young cocky lordlings sidled up to them. Suyin's hand tightened on Lan Fan's. "My lord Xie," she said, and Lan Fan's ears pricked up. Xie was not a common name at court. It was one of the oldest clans in the Fifty Families, and they could rival the Fengs for their tendency to keep to themselves. She couldn't remember ever seeing this man before. He was quite handsome, she thought, in a distant sort of way, but there was a tilt to his mouth that she did not like. "What can we do for you?"

"My lady Yao," said Xie, and he bent at the waist. It was shallower than courtesy demanded, but it was a bow nonetheless. He did not, however, offer one to Lan Fan. "I heard tell that your cousin had come from the north to attend to you, but nobody mentioned to me that she would be quite so pretty."

"My cousin does not enjoy flattery, but I thank you for the compliment on her behalf," said Suyin. Her nails pierced deep into Lan Fan's wrist in warning. Lan Fan stayed silent. "Is there something you wish of me, Lord Xie?"

"I have something to discuss with your husband," said Xie. "But I have not seen him yet."

"Shall I take you to him?" Suyin gave Lan Fan a look that read stay here before turning back to Xie. "He is not very far away. He's probably out on the balconies, he doesn't like the crowds."

Lan Fan was alone again, and she was being circled like a mouse. Four boys had followed Xie, and four boys remained behind as Suyin tucked her hand into the crook of Xie's arm and nearly dragged him towards the balcony doors. It was a test, she was certain, and Suyin was leaving her to face it, as she ought.

It didn't mean that her stomach wasn't wrapped up in knots.

One of the other boys tossed his hair back out of his eyes. He had long bangs to go with his alkahestrist's queue, and it was clear they bothered him. "Tell me, Lady Ma," he said, and meaning utterly dripped from his voice. "Has your Yao cousin taught you how to ride properly, yet?"

"I ride as any woman from my tribe rides," said Lan Fan in a quiet, measured voice. There was a great deal of Lan Fan in Feiyan Ma; since no one had ever spoken to Lan Fan in court, aside for Gen Chang, it had been relatively safe to continue using her real personality. If she had had to load a fake one on top of herself, she would have been crushed under the weight of it. "Astride."

"With your feet," another lad said, "one wonders why you don't walk."

Behind Lan Fan, the Lu girls—who had shamelessly remained to eavesdrop—tittered. They had had their feet bound as noble custom required; both feet would have fit into Lan Fan's spread hand. Lan Fan thought of the girls she had seen as she'd grown up in the Yao compound, toes curled in to the sole, bones broken by bandages that were wrapped tighter and tighter, nails growing deep into flesh, pus dripping from old wounds that would never heal, and bit her tongue.

"You clomp about like a man in those boots," the same boy said, and even if he hadn't been smirking, the way his friends were laughing told her that it wasn't meant to be a compliment. "Do all the women in your tribe act as you do, Lady Ma? Riding astride, legs spread like a common whore—"

"Really," said the alkahestrist, and he leaned forward to put his lips to her ear. His hand fisted in her sleeve. "Are horses the only thing you ride, Feiyan Ma?"

Lan Fan drew her knife and had the tip pressed against his ribs before he could breathe. "You will release me," she said, "or I will skewer you where you stand, boy."

The knife was concealed. None around them could see it. They would just see an alkahestrist bent over a steppes girl, his mouth to her ear, as though he was telling her a secret. Only she saw the way his face had gone white; only she saw his eyes widen and felt the way his throat worked to keep himself from vomiting. "You wouldn't," he said, but there was a quiver to his voice that she couldn't quite hide. Lan Fan slipped her hand against his coat, and one of the gilt buttons clattered to the floor between her feet. She smiled Suyin's shark smile.

"Don't tempt me, flatlander."

He swallowed hard. Then he released her sleeve, and stepped back. There was a rent in his Academy jacket where her knife had been, but by the time he stepped far enough away from her to show it, she'd already slipped the antler blade back into its sheath at her side. The lads around him were confused, but when he turned very quickly and marched into the crowd, they followed him without question. Lan Fan's hands were shaking. She had never had to threaten a member of her own court before, and she didn't much like the feel of it.

"They tried the same with me, you know," came a voice, and when she turned, it took everything in her not to jump. Lien Hua Feng was closer than she'd realized, her hips braced against the wall, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She looked glorious in Feng green, and her robes were traditional, if a bit daringly cut. Her collarbones and the tops of her breasts were exposed, in a river of creamy skin that was boldly—and beautifully—decorated with vines. It was paint, Lan Fan thought, but the way it moved when she breathed made her uneasy. For the first time she checked Lien Hua Feng's hair for alkahestry braids. "The Yao boys don't much like women who won't give them what they want."

"Yao?" Lan Fan echoed, and looked to the crowd where the lordlings had disappeared. She had never met any of the Yao cousins—after all, with her master carrying imperial blood, he'd been kept away from most of the family for over a decade before finally being presented at court, and then they'd been off to Amestris. But the Yao were a large clan, she remembered, and it would have been impossible for her to meet all of them.

"The alkahestrist is Honghui," said Lien Hua, and tilted her head curiously. "The other two were Dingxiang and Nianzu. Yaos, all three of them, and drunk on their own power. They cornered me the first night I came out in public, too."

Lan Fan studied her. Lien Hua Feng was gorgeous in a way that was inherently different from Suyin. Suyin was the sun, and cresting waves, and rolling hills filled with steppes grasses, powerful and demanding the attention of everyone around. Lien Hua was the keen and glinting edge of a newly honed blade, and the eerie elegance of a lone wolf's howl—a sheer, sharp, predatory beauty that made Lan Fan's skin prickle. Her hair was down tonight, in a maiden's loose curls around her face, and the white streak was shockingly apparent. She thought there might have been a beaded mastery braid, hiding amongst all those curls, but she couldn't quite be certain.

That's all we need. A Feng with an alkahestrical mastery.

"I should have stabbed him, then," said Lan Fan. "If he does it again, I will."

"You'll be hung," said Lien Hua dispassionately. "He's the Emperor's cousin, and you're nothing but a steppes whore. Whose side will they take?"

"I'll still stab him," said Lan Fan. "I'll just hide the body."

Lien Hua's eyes snapped to Lan Fan's, and to Lan Fan's utter astonishment, she smiled. It looked like acid. She bowed at the waist, deeper than Xie had bowed, and said, "I am Lien Hua Feng, come from the south; I offer my greetings to the Ma clan and to its daughter, cast so far from home."

Lan Fan bowed back. "May your horses grow strong," she said, because that was what she remembered people said, at a meeting like this one. "May your family thrive and may the wind and stars brighten your path through fresh grasses until the end of your journeys, wherever they might lead."

"How charming," said Lien Hua. "Is that a tribal greeting?"

"It is the only greeting my tribe knows," said Lan Fan, and she wasn't lying. The Huo had never greeted each other. They had excelled in never greeting each other if they could help it; silent nods and stiff bows were the only concessions they had ever offered to each other. But stiffness, she thought, had its uses, and its reasons. Their line of work demanded nothing less.

Grandfather, I miss you.

"You've come a very long way just to be mocked by flatland boys." Lan Fan gave Lien Hua a sharp look, but didn't say anything; the Feng woman was still smiling, and it was making her nervous. "All the way from the Qarashi border, I hear."

"So far as I am aware my family will have moved from the borderlands. Things have been unsafe as of late."

"The news has reached the capitol as well; it's even made its way to the Feng holdings." Lien Hua's eyes searched Lan Fan's face. "You surprise me, Feiyan Ma. You have none of the barbarity that I have heard comes with the steppes peoples. A loose tongue, perhaps, but no true…" She searched for a word. "Heathenness."

Lan Fan bit her tongue and steadied herself. Then she said, "What is barbaric in one tribe is mere common courtesy in another. As for my loose tongue, I keep my own counsel if need be. I speak as I find."

"You certainly shocked that old Minister," said Lien Hua, and to Lan Fan's shock, she offered her arm. Lan Fan took it, and tried to hide the fact that her fingers were trembling. "What was it you said? Honesty is respect."

"For the Ma, it is."

"I think I like your Ma," said Lien Hua, and she led the way to a couch near the door, out of earshot of the rest of the party. Lan Fan kept her eyes fixed ahead of her, and did not look towards her master. "The court is wearing on me, and I have only been here two weeks."

"For the Gathering," Lan Fan said, and nearly kicked herself for the slip. She wasn't supposed to know of the Gathering of the Fifty Families, not after so little time here. Lien Hua gave her a sharp look, but then her mouth curved up again.

"Your cousin is married into the Yao, yes?"

"Suyin is the Commander's wife," said Lan Fan. "She has been teaching me about court things."

"Court things." Lien Hua rolled it around her mouth. "Yes, I suppose my brothers and I are here for court things. The Gathering, as you have said."

"Forgive me," said Lan Fan, "but though my cousin mentioned the Gathering, she didn't tell me what it is."

"Of course she didn't. Many of the steppes people have never been invited into the Gathering; they are too far off, and it is only for the Fifty Families. Though, granted, the Ma generally elect not to send anyone at all." Lien Hua looked at Lan Fan again, and Lan Fan had the horrid feeling that she was being measured—her possible usefulness as a link to the Yao versus her sheer heathenness, as Lien Hua had put it, was being tested. She must have not come up wanting, because Lien Hua brushed the white streak back out of her face. "The Gathering happens once a year. All of the Fifty Families of the Imperial Court—I trust you know what the Fifty Families are," she added, and Lan Fan made a face and nodded. "All of the Fifty Families send their representatives in a massive parliament, where political, economic, and interfamilial concerns will be raised before His Imperial Majesty—life, health, and strength to his name—for his consideration."

Lan Fan could detect no disdain or even dislike in Lien Hua's voice when she spoke of the Emperor. But then again, the woman's eyes were like mirrors; Lan Fan could see no emotion in them, just her own pasty reflection. It was very unnerving. She licked her lips. "Then since you have come for the Gathering, you are to be the Feng representatives?"

"My brothers and I have come from the west in order to replace our esteemed uncle at the Gathering, yes." She sighed a bit. "He has been ill, as of late, and the journey would have been too taxing on his health to come all the way to the capitol city. He named my brothers in his place, and they were kind enough to allow me to come along. After all, it is the first chance I have ever had to come to court."

Liar, she thought, as Lien Hua smiled again. Lan Fan doubted that her brothers let Lien Hua Feng do anything. Besides, they were all imperial cousins. But Feiyan Ma wouldn't know that; Lien Hua Feng had not introduced herself as princess, and Suyin would not have had time to tell her. So she pursed her lips and nodded, keeping her face blank. (It was the one thing she was very good at, aside from knives.) "I see."

"You come in similar circumstances," said Lien Hua. "Your cousin is with child, I hear."

"Only a month or two. It is her first baby, and she wished for someone from home to be with her when it came."

"So I can trust you will be here for the next nine months, at least?"

"Unless I am called back north, or dismissed by my cousin or her husband, I will be here as long as it takes."

"I see." Lien Hua mulled that over too. Then she tilted her head, like a cat scenting blood. "I find I like you, Feiyan Ma. My brothers and I will soon be attending a horse race, just outside the Imperial Palace; a group of us will be going. No Yaos," she added, "though your cousin is welcome to come if she wishes." The commander, Lan Fan noted, was not included in the invitation. "I find that the stagnation of the imperial court wearies me, and I turn to more…well, the word would perhaps be plebian, but I find that rough suits me better. I turn to rougher pursuits. As a horsewoman yourself, I believe it might be of interest to you to join us."

Lan Fan thought about it, but inside her heart had leapt into her throat. She had imagined, in getting close to the Fengs, that she would have to worm her way into their rooms and dealings, not be outright invited, like an actual guest. Her instincts were screaming at her to decline—that acid smile was back, and it made her think of death and pain and very, very bad things—but even if Lien Hua was trying to extract information on Yao clan dealings or, at the very worst, lead her into a trap, Lan Fan could take care of herself.

She did not look at the Imperial Throne.

"I think," she said, "that that would be a godsend."

"Good," said Lien Hua Feng, and patted Lan Fan's knee through the deel. Then she stood. "I will send you a dove with the details in the morning. For now, I have to keep my brothers from drinking themselves into oblivion." She rolled her eyes towards the heavens. "Men. I shall see you soon, I think, Feiyan Ma."

"Your courtesy overwhelms me, Lien Hua Feng," said Lan Fan, and Lien Hua raised a hand in acknowledgment as she turned and headed towards the wine glasses. It was only once she was out of sight that Lan Fan closed her eyes, let out a breath, and stood to look for Suyin.

Her hands were shaking like leaves in her pockets.


Updated and expanded 18.2.14.

A/N:

So, no Ling this chapter, but he'll crop up soon enough.

I apologize for taking so long with my updates. I was in Japan for the vast majority of the time between the last update and now, and in the middle of my very busy schedule my computer shut down, taking with it everything that I had worked out for this story and more than half of the next few chapters. it was quite a blow (I lost a personal and original NaNoWriMo project as well, along with almost every other story I'm working on, currently) so it took a long time for me to work myself back into writing, from an emotional standpoint. Rest assured that Swallows on the Beam is not abandoned, and as soon as I get my hands on the entirety of Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, which should be soon, I should have a few more chapters up.

I am working on other projects as well, however, so I will probably end up rotating updates. You have been warned.

Note: This chapter was unbetaed. I do have a beta or two waiting in the wings (thank you to ocha-no-deathscythe on Tumblr and LittleMissSophie here on FFnet) but I was awake enough to read through it myself and I wanted to get this up as quickly as I could, because y'all have waited long enough. (Plus, LittleMissSophie hasn't given me her email address yet for me to send stuff to. ;) Love you, dear.)

Thank you all very much for your patience. Your support has been utterly overwhelming; I can only hope I shall continue to live up to expectations.