Tersa idly walked in the chilly evening air. It was quiet and secluded in this part of the Hall's gardens, which was a refreshing change from the way the day had passed. Saetan had to entertain some guests from Hayll, and he was still in one of the spacious sitting rooms, discussing things of little importance to Tersa. Saetan had assured her she didn't need to sit through anything she didn't want to, but Tersa hadn't seen many Hayllians and had sat with Saetan through a formal lunch and a discussion or two afterwards.

They had asked her some questions out of politeness, but nearly each time Tersa had been too lost in her own thoughts to hear, the guests had whispered about her with raised eyebrows increasingly more often, and Saetan's infamous anger and protectiveness had danced on a knife's edge. Ever since her first night here, a week before exactly, his uncertainty when around her had changed to concern, and a sharpness so cold to those who belittled her that he frightened her a little; though Tersa would never let him know this. The lingering traces of the pride she used to have prevented her from that.

She leaned down to free a flower of some weeds. Bringing her earthy fingers to her nose, she inhaled the crisp smell and turned around, heading back inside to the warmth. She figured she'd stay in one of the libraries for a while.

Suddenly, Tersa heard a bang of a door on other side of the garden and spun around to see. Saetan walked out in furious strides, almost crashing into the rose bushes. Running his hands through his hair agitatedly, he looked up and saw her. Tersa walked up to him tentatively, smiling sympathetically. "They're quite narrow-minded, aren't they?"

Saetan exhaled heavily, the air just cold enough the make his breath foggy. "I knew they had come to negotiate about Dhemlan and Hayll's trade, but whether they stick to the point is debatable." He rubbed his temples. "And it didn't help that the lady would ever so often ask whether you were to join us, or whether I could also tell you were a Black Widow, or whether you had any family, or- " he sighed.

Tersa softly rested a hand on his. He seemed to calm at the touch. "And what did you tell them?" she asked.

"That you would join us whenever you saw fit, whether she was visually impaired or just chose not to acknowledge that I am a Black Widow too, and that since I myself never questioned your past neither should she."

Tersa laughed softly. "If you said that with the same look in your eyes as you have now, I'm surprised they haven't ran away."

Saetan's face relaxed a little and he cleared his throat. "Well, it's almost dinnertime. Allow me to escort you, unless you would you like to stay in the garden a while longer?"

Tersa tentatively put her arm through his. "It's a little chilly. I'll come with you."

They walked back inside, up until the door to Saetan's private study. He stopped in front of it and faced her.

"What is it?" Tersa asked.

Saetan smiled slightly. "Thank you." He trailed a hand down her cheek to rest under her chin. Tersa closed her eyes.

She had heard, among the more elaborately fake and frightening rumours about the High Lord, that he had been Consort to the last Witch, and that he was an exquisite lover. If he did possess the sexual intensity people said he did, then Saetan certainly hid it well. They hadn't slept together yet, as Saetan had insisted she had a week to rest and get more comfortable here. But it was times like these, when there would be an insignificant, innocent touch, where she would almost feel... feel... like she was that desirable and strong Red-jeweled witch again.

But Tersa often told herself it didn't mean anything. Ofcourse he would think of her in a sexual manner- her sole purpose here was to ensure all that led to fruitition. Besides, the her webs showed nothing else for them. Nothing.

"Unfortunately, it's yet another formal dinner, but at least they'll return to Hayll tomorrow morning," Saetan whispered, pulling Tersa out of her reverie.

"It's alright," she answered softly. Then she reluctantly stepped back and Saetan withdrew his hand. "I'll be down soon," she said, going up the stairs to her room.

Saetan gazed after her and headed down to find his guests.

-

Saetan sighed inwardly for what felt like the tenth time during the course of the appetizers. He had expected the Hayllian members of an esteemed court would be somewhat inconsiderate of concerns outside their immidiate interest, but to see how blatantly ignorant they were on some issues was just trying his patience too much.

The door opened, and Saetan looked up gratefully at the interruption of the incessant complaints. Tersa walked in, her dark hair up in a bun that still managed to retain some unpredictability. Saetan's gaze lingered on the way one of the simpler dresses he had servants buy for her hugged her body. She was quite thin when she had first arrived, but now he liked that the dress fit around a frame getting curvier with good meals. She caught his eye momentarily as she sat down next to him, and he noticed she looked more subdued and melancholy than she had been in the garden.

The guests' eyebrows lifted at her late, discourteous arrival and Saetan could tell they found it rude she hadn't apologised for it. His patience thinned further. They didn't know her and had no right to throw those silent, judging looks. Tersa noticed this, he could tell, and reached for the pitcher of wine and poured herself a large glass, taking a sip. The Hayllian lady sniffed in distaste.

Saetan fingered the birthright red-jeweled ring on his finger. Even though he didn't wear his black on regular days, even his birthright was well above the guests', and the husband rested a hand lightly on his wife's hand as a plea to just continue with dinner. She looked back down at her plate reluctantly, her lips still pursed. Saetan's mouth curled unamusedly. Very well then, let her think she can get away with subtle insults to a guest of the High Lord's.

"I have arranged a carriage early tomorrow morning, so you can get a head start back to Draega," Saetan said, not bothering to hide the distaste in his voice.

The husband nodded. "We appreciate it." His wife diguised what could have been a 'hmph' as a cough.

Saetan's gold eyes narrowed. Tersa rested a small, warm hand on his. The gesture calmed him, and they continued eating in silence for a while.

The Hayllian woman finally unpursed her lips long enough to make an attempt at conversation. "Are you involved in any of the charities going on in Amdarh, Lady Tersa? I hear they are raising plenty for a local orphanage for young witches with potential."

Tersa looked up, surprised to have the attention of everyone at the table. "No," she put simply, and continued with her meal. The woman lifted an eyebrow. Tersa could sense the tension, but it had been too long since she had attended a court dinner, so she clumsily tried again. "Well I- I haven't had the opportunity yet, but I'd... I'd like to help, when I get the chance."

The woman pursed her lips once more. "Yes, I'm sure chances of free time are very hard to come by, in the circumstances." The sarcasm in her voice couldn't have gotten any less subtle.

Tersa didn't react but simply refilled her glass of wine. Saetan, however, was on the brink of losing his temper. "And what circumstances may those be?" he asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Tersa looked up at him, mouthing 'please' silently. But Saetan ignored it, and turned once more to the woman. "Yes?"

She looked baffled for a moment, then regained her haughty air. "High Lord, I was only commenting upon the fact that since she is... well, responsible for your contentment, she would have to be... near at hand," she finished delicately.

Saetan raised an eyebrow. His eyes looked almost black with suppressed rage in the candlelight. "I see. Are you implying that she is a pleasure slave, lady?"

"I was merely expressing my-"

Saetan slammed his fork down, causing everyone to jump. "Enough," Saetan said in a voice dangerously soft.

There was utter silence.

"So long as you are in my household, you shall not direct your petty disdain and judgements towards anyone," Saetan said, his voice changing to ice.

No one moved or spoke. The couple paled. Saetan rose in one agile movement and left the room.

Tersa looked down at her plate, then dropped her napkin and pushed her chair back. The lady looked like she was still trying to hold on to some final thread of defiance, but fear overrode this easily, and the couple hurriedly left in the direction of their room.

Tersa walked out the room after Saetan without so much as a second glance. These short-sighted Hayllians insulting her meant nothing, but obviously it did mean something to Saetan.

She knocked on the heavy blackwood door of his study, but when no answer came, pushed it open slightly. The fire was burning, but it was empty. Usually, he always took refuge in his study, she had learned that about him. He'd pour himself some Yarbarah and lose himself in a book, or gaze at the fire in contemplation.

Tersa walked up to the corridor and gazed out the window onto the dark courtyard. That was empty too. Not knowing where else to look, and too tired to explore, she made her way up to their bedroom. Saetan's anger was a bit of a legend, and she had often heard tales of how, blinded by cold rage, the High Lord had wiped out an entire population of people, along with their country and whatever culture that derived from them. Tersa could tell he had unhealed scars beneath the occasional cold cruelty. And she had seen enough to know he would never stop having regrets. Distractions would come though, certainly, and... her. The daughter of his soul. She would come, in his lifetime. He would heal somewhat. Tersa was sure of it. And in her own lifetime, if she was... here... to witness it. And not just here in the physical sense.

Her foot caught on the last few stairs and she stumbled, but caught her balance by leaning on the wall. She never liked looking at what would befall herself in her webs. That was not her webs' purpose. She had always believed they shouldn't be reduced to petty things to tell one's future. They were many-layered, delicate, powerful... full of both beautiful and terrible subtleties...

As she pushed open the bedroom door, her thoughts were cut short. The light was dim; the fire had almost burned out. Saetan sat on her side of the bed, holding in his hand her comb and gazing at the dying embers.

Tersa shut the door silently and took off her shoes, and started untying the tight laces of the dress' corset. It felt too restricting now. Suffocating. Not a reminder of how it had felt to be strong and desirable as when she had first put it on, but a mockery of how she yearned for the Tersa she'd never be. He doesn't need your self-pity. He needs your reassurance. She told herself. The laces finally came undone, and she slipped off the dress, breathing easy in the simple, loose undergarment.

"Do you feel that way?" Saetan asked unexpectedly. His gaze didn't shift at all, and he barely blinked. Tersa could see the reflection of the embers in the eyes which were a dark, dark gold now.

She walked up to the bed and loosened her hair from the bun. She moved her face so it was right between him and the point he was staring at. Reluctantly, his eyes met hers. "Like a-"

"No, I don't," Tersa answered. "I don't at all, Saetan. I know exactly what my place is here. And I know it isn't the position of pleasure slave." With that, she rested a hand on his for a moment, then stood to rekindle the fire.