Author's note - and Kira Tamarion comes to The Teyrn's attention for her piece "Maiden, Mother, Crone". The Teyrn is not amused... Not Amused At All. :)


"Flemeth."

The word is uttered in a quiet, well modulated and calm voice. The only thing that suggests that The Teyrn and his voice are not in the same state of mind is his hand. It is clenched around some crumpled sheets of paper, so tightly that the edges have cut into his palm.

"Flemeth"

His listener is seated in the study chair that has seen so many of these interviews. Kira Tamarion is clearly not getting away as lightly as Gene Dark did. Naked. Bound. Gagged. Some evidence that the orders were not to have any concerns for this particular interviewee's comfort, judging by the extra half twist given to the arms before securing them. The orders seem to have been carried out with Cauthrien's customary calm efficiency. The Maker only knows what she thinks about these interviews. On the other hand given her near worship for Loghain she may think that the writers clearly Had This Coming...or worse.

"Flemeth"

Loghain at last seems to realise what he's doing. He carefully smooths out the papers and sets them on the desk. He pauses to read one particular paragraph again. A shudder runs down his strong back. His ice blue eyes, blazing with frozen fury, turn to his captive.

The Teyrn is clearly Royally Pissed Off.

"Just what in the name of the Black City did you think you were doing?"

Given the gagged state of the captive, an answer does not seem to be forthcoming.

"Flemeth. With all the history there, with everything you knew...and you write a piece that has me bedding that venomous old harpy. Even if she was a very young harpy and a still fairly young harpy at the time and you went to a lot of trouble to hide the fact she was a harpy at all. I thought Enaid Aderyn and Shakespira were deliberately trying to drive me crazy with the Duncan pieces. I don't know whether you were trying to drive me insane or drive me into a fury. Congratulations. You just succeeded on both counts."

He paces the floor. His captive's eyes follow him in fascination.

"And that isn't the half of it. As some of your little friends have already remarked, the implication in your piece is that Morrigan is actually my daughter. Now, how long do you think it's likely to take all those little perverts on the kink meme to get round to writing incestuous versions of the Dark Ritual? With all the details?"

He pauses.

"Actually, forget that. They probably already have. I don't think there's any perversion in existence that hasn't shown up on that kink meme somewhere. Come to that, I think they've invented a few new ones that nobody had ever heard of..."

He turns to face his captive.

"I suppose you now want to...apologise?"

Nod.

"All right. One thing - and one thing only. If you reveal after the apology that you're actually Flemeth in disguise, then I'm going to physically throw you out of the bedroom window. Clear?"

Nod.

He pauses again. "That wouldn't work either. I'd throw you out of the window and you'd change into a dragon halfway down. Oh, never mind."

He cuts her bonds but doesn't remove the gag. Meekly she follows him towards the bedroom door.

He takes one last look at the pages on the desk. Then at the portrait.

"And whichever one of you is in the not-so-secret priest's hole this time, you sneezed. Twice. I heard you. Go find something better to do with your time."

The bedroom door closes behind them.