A/N: Your reviews do so keep me writing. There has been so much curiosity about what's going to happen here on Rishell. I hope it lives up to all the hype and expectation. Thank you for taking the time to give me such rich feedback. It's like having a conversation with you through these chapters, and I love the exchange.

It's raining here now, and I'm watching the hummingbirds squabble over the feeder just outside my living room window. I have a collection of early music from Naxos running on iTunes. I think it's time to write Rishell...

It's easy to believe in magic when you're young. Anything you couldn't explain was magic then. It didn't matter if it was science or a fairy tale. Electricity and elves were both infinitely mysterious and equally possible - elves probably more so.

~Charles de Lint

Any man can lose his hat in a fairy-wind. ~Irish Saying

I.

He'd landed the TARDIS in a clearing in a forest of towering trees. They were so old and so tall that the sunlight could only pierce through their upper branches with effort, and even then, everything was green-tinted. Only here and there did it dapple the ground in bright golden spots where there was an opening in the canopy above.

Amy's hand slipped out of the Doctor's as she walked slowly around the grassy clearing and took it all in. It seemed that the whole of the place somehow...resonated...slightly. She realized with a start that what she was hearing was coming from the trees themselves, that they sang of age and majesty and peace, of the joy of growing and reaching for stars and infinity, of the security of clinging deep to the secret heart of the earth. She turned back to the Doctor with her mouth slightly open.

"Wow."

"Yeah. I know. And that's just the plant life. Most of Rishell is just a bit psychically active, some bits far more than others."

"Yeah, but still Doctor, singing trees..."

He grinned. "Fantastic, isn't it?"

She grinned back. "Absolutely."

She slipped her hand back in his.

II.

They had found a path and were walking in a direction the Doctor promised would bring them to a settlement talking about nothing important when she saw them for the first time. She pulled up short, tugging the Doctor's hand. In front of her just at the top of the next small hill on horses so fine they looked like carvings instead of real animals sat a party of seven figures, totally motionless. Had one of the horses not flicked its tail, Amy might have taken them for some statues dressed in rich garments and left here for unknown reasons. They seemed to be waiting on something.

The riders themselves were as carved down and sculptured as the horses they rode. Their cheekbones were high and sharp, their faces tapering, giving them a catlike quality enhanced by their large, slightly tilted eyes. The group of seven she was seeing seemed to be universally male, but they all wore their hair long, pulled up into a topknot from the front that cascaded down to mix with the remainder over their shoulders. Their coloration varied. Some of them were as pale as she while others were tawny. Their hair was golden, black, or brown. Their eyes varied, too. Her quick glance showed her green, blue, an odd color like honey. The one thing they all had exactly in common was the sharply pointed ears that their pulled-back hair displayed. They were beautiful in an utterly alien way.

"Doctor...are they..." She was whispering.

"Yes. The locals. Looks like somebody noticed we were here and sent out the welcome wagon. Well, how kind!" He was not.

She noticed for the first time that with the seven riders were two spare horses.

"What should we do? Should we run and hide?"

"What? And miss your el...I mean the famed High Lords of Rishell? No, Pond. Let's go say hello. Since they're waiting for us, I think running away might irritate them. And I always think it's poor form to irritate one's hosts. At least at first. Usually. Especially those who have hunting lances."

Amy looked back at the seven riders again with new eyes. She looked at their equipment more carefully. Each rider did indeed have a long wickedly pointed metal spear slung casually on their horses. She had no illusions about the speed with which that deadly weapon could undoubtedly be put into play. The High Lords continued to sit at that slight distance with completely unruffled expressions, but she thought she saw the corner of the mouth of the rider with the long black hair turn up slightly. He tilted his head ever-so-slightly and considered her with eyes like old silver coins. Even from this range, something about it made her shiver. She looked back at him, raised her chin, narrowed her own eyes. Again, she saw just the slightest quirk of that mouth. His horse, black like his hair, stamped the ground exactly once. Nothing else moved.

The Doctor had started walking down the path to meet the riders. He realized that she wasn't with him and turned around.

"Do come on, Amy. What are you standing around staring at them for? Don't you want to meet them?"

Amy muttered under her breath. "Well, now, that's the question, isn't it?" But she hastened after the Doctor.

III.

The Rishellian on the black horse bowed formally when the Doctor and Amy finally reached the crest of the small hill.

"My Lord Doctor. The Empress our Mother has dispatched me to welcome you back to Rishell. I am Irial, Lord of Raven House and Keeper of the Watch."

The Doctor smiled, looked Irial up and down briefly, measuringly. "So it's you we have to thank, then, for the welcome committee. So nice of you to come out to meet us like this. Saved us a hell of a walk, I believe."

Again, that tiny little flutter of something at Irial's lips. "Indeed. The distance from the Great Forest to the Citadel of the Moon is more than the Empress felt you would make comfortably on foot, especially once she knew you had a companion. And, of course, she knew you would be most distressed if you could not make it to the Citadel by nightfall to make your presence known as the law...and courtesy...require..."

The Doctor sighed. "Oh yes. Quite. Quite. So. I guess it's time to saddle up then..." He climbed onto the shimmering white horse that was led forward for him. Amy got on the dappled grey that was led to her with a little boost from the golden-haired Rishellian who'd been holding the horse for her. As she got settled on the horse, Amy felt discomfiture rolling through the bond. He did not want to go to this Citadel of the Moon. Why?

*Tell you later, Pond. But do me a favor? Just this once? Please don't wander off. This is the one part of Rishell tour I was actually hoping to avoid...*

IV.

The Doctor was talking with Irial. The two of them were at the front of the riding party. One scout rode far ahead. Amy rode behind the Doctor and Irial. The other Rishellians rode behind her in complete silence except for the soft sounds their horses hooves made on the trail. It was a little unnerving. Amy stole glances at them from time to time. Several times, her eyes met wide Rishellian ones watching her, and after that, she focused her attention on what the Doctor and Irial were saying.

"...so you are Lord of Raven House, eh, Irial? There wasn't one last time I was here..."

"Yes. But that was a very long time ago, Doctor. There has been a Raven Lord for several cycles now. The last two Empresses have had a Raven Lord to guide them."

"Really? Then the learning was rediscovered."

"With time and great effort, the Raven House was rebuilt, the learning was renewed, those who were adept were brought and trained, and we were able to offer guidance to our Mother once again. It was not done without great sacrifice, Doctor, but then, as I am sure you know, nothing that is worth doing ever is..."

"Oh, indeed, indeed. Only, last time I was here, I was given to understand that the Imperial family, the Empress included, had turned against the Raven Lord. I thought there had been a decree of some kind, even, destroying the position, declaring the House abolished..."

Irial laughed. "Yes. You're right. I forget that your last visit with us was in such a troubled time. Fortunately, time, as it passes, can heal a great many wounds, and give those who have no legitimate reason to quarrel the chance to see the error of their ways. Have you not found this to be true, Time Lord?"

The Doctor's response was to smile slightly and bow. Inside, he was thinking, No, not really. What really happens is that it gives all parties involved a chance to get all their weapons good and sharp and all their forces into place before striking the final blows...

V.

The path eventually led to a wide, broad, stone-paved road. The horses began to show signs of excitement as they stepped out onto it. The Rishellian riders softly spoke words Amy could not understand to the horses, smoothing long-fingered elegant hands over their mounts to soothe them.

"Have you traveled on Rishellian Chargers before, Doctor?"

"No. I was only here for a short visit last time. I heard much of them, but I had no cause to journey out of the Citadel."

Irial smiled. "They have no equal for speed or stamina. They live to drink the wind and to conquer it. These roads are built specifically for them, specifically for the horses of the High Lords. The lesser traffic uses other ways. We shall be at the Citadel in an hour now that we have reached the way and we can give the chargers their heads."

He glanced back at Amy briefly. It was the first time he had even acknowledged her presence since he had looked at her as she and the Doctor had walked toward the riders on the hilltop. "Your companion. She does ride, does she not? She will be able to stay in the saddle?" His gloved hand unfurled toward her in a casual, infuriatingly dismissive gesture.

Amy glared at him. Oi, elf-boy. Am not a sidekick. Am not a servant. Don't know what you're thinking, but it's time to shift that... "Yes. Actually, she does. Quite well, in fact."

Irial turned his head slightly and again considered her with that measuring, disconcerting silver gaze from under long dark lashes. She tossed her hair, gave him her very best go-to-hell glare. He looked at her more fully, studied her more carefully, his now-amused eyes connecting with her own. He grinned, almost as if he could hear her angry thoughts, and then he turned back to the Doctor.

The Doctor's hands tightened almost imperceptibly on the reins of his horse, and in the back of her mind, Amy heard something like a very low growl.

"In that case, the Citadel of the Moon awaits."

He made a slight clicking noise with his tongue, and Amy had no time to consider handsome arrogant elves or jealous Time Lords. The world was falling away from her as the horse beneath her became the embodiment of speed.

VI.

When they'd arrived , even though the ride had gone quickly, it was dark. Amy wasn't able to see very much of the building into which she was being led except to get a sense of the massiveness of it. Irial had not even consulted the Doctor about the rooming arrangements. He told them that they would have several hours to refresh themselves before the court assembled for the ball being held by the Empress in their honor and then had simply had them shown upstairs to two rooms next to each other. Two servants, one male, one female, had led Amy and the Doctor through the impressive halls of the castle past exquisite sculpture and paintings. Amy had looked at the Doctor with a questioning expression, but he'd disappeared into his as happy as a lark, as usual, wittering on about the architectural details. She'd gone inside hers with a tiny shrug.

Guess we're not sharing a room on this trip, then. I never thought about that. I guess I just assumed we'd be together from now on. I don't know why I didn't realize that he wouldn't want... I mean, I guess there's some reason I didn't think of... Probably, he doesn't want anyone to know about...

Before her feelings could spiral downward any further, there was a knock on something wooden-sounding behind a large colorful tapestry draped along the wall that separated their two rooms. Frowning, she looked for the edge of the tapestry a moment, and, after flailing there a minute to find it and get under it, she found a large wooden sliding door with an enormous metal bolt holding it shut. The knock sounded again. She grinned.

"Who is it?" she singsonged.

"Little pig, little pig, let me come in," he chanted back at her.

"Ha! With you calling me that? I don't think so. Not by the hair of my chinny, chin, chin." She leaned against the door and waited to see what he would do next.

She heard the distinctive buzz of the sonic screwdriver, and watched the bolt slide neatly back. She stepped away from the door just as he slid it open. He was pocketing the sonic and the two of them were in a neat little dimly-lit cave formed by the tapestries hanging over the door on both their respective walls. His lips curved ever-so-slightly. In his eyes was a dangerous light. She knew that light, welcomed it.

"Adjoining rooms. Rishellian protocol. Their way of smoothing over awkwardness. They don't know what our status is and would rather die than ask and potentially offend, so with these doors, we can decide for ourselves. Anyone not a Rishellian declared bondpair would be given them." He stepped toward her. "But you...Not going to open the door, eh? Going to make me work for it, are you, Pond? Okay, then..." He stalked her in a tiny little circle, and she felt the wide door frame press into her back. He bracketed her on both sides with his arms, pinning her in. "In that case, I reckon I'll have to huff..." and he leaned down and brushed his lips teasingly, tastingly across hers. "...and puff..." and he did it again, sliding his hands down her body to her waist, pulling her against him. "...and blow your house in..." and he took her mouth hard, lifting her slightly to carry her out of the little tapestry-cave and toward the huge bed in his room.

VII.

Her clothing and his made a scattered trail leading back to the tapestry. It had been explosive and immediate. The want had consumed them so fast that she hadn't been sure they were even going to make it back to the bed. Now she lay with her head on his shoulder listening to the soothing sound of his dual heartbeat slowing back down. His fingers tangled in her hair, combing through it again and again slowly, making sure to brush her temples deliberately. She shivered.

"You'll want to stop that, unless..." She stopped turned her face against his skin.

"Unless?" She couldn't see him, but she heard the smile in his voice. "Come on. Unless? Is this the moment Pond finishes a sentence?" He stroked her hair again, danced the tip of his index finger delicately over her temple as he did.

"Unless, oh, I don't know..." She opened her mouth on a whim and licked him lightly on the neck just where he always seemed unerringly to fixate on her at some point during their lovemaking.

His response was immediate. A strangled gasp spilled from his lips, and he jerked as though he'd been hit with an electric charge.

She pulled back and looked at him with huge eyes. "Doctor?" She touched him gently. "Are you okay? Did I...?"

He grabbed her by the back of the head, pulled her back down to him for a hard kiss. Then he pulled away, rolled his head slightly sideways and looked at her with those slightly pleading summer green eyes. "Again?" There was a note of desperation in his voice.

She realized that his body, pressed to hers, was hard as a rock, ready for sex despite what had happened between them not even thirty minutes before. What she knew about what he wanted raced through her mind as a set of fragmented impressions...

He does this and he feels...Mine...it's a kiss of possession. It means something special for him...

He shifted under her, his hands caressing up and down her back. She could feel the desire in him for this blazing white hot as she turned it over in her mind.

It's how he marks his mate...and he wants me to mark him?...wants me to say he's mine?...

She remembered his reaction to her sending that word through the bond the night they'd spent in the reading room, and she looked down at him, a hunger of her own kindled.

And he is...Mine. Beautiful Mine. She concentrated on letting him hear that. His eyes closed, his hands tugged lightly. She shifted, rising above him, straddling him, slowly taking him in. His hips arched for her, his eyes opening to watch. When he was completely buried inside her, she leaned down over him for a kiss. He met her with a desperation and a hunger that fed her own need, and she let her hips begin to find their own rhythm. She broke the contact of their mouths, pressed her lips to his eyelids, then to his temples, felt his hips buck under hers, heard him speaking in his own language, those words that would not translate... She began to kiss her way down his neck, tiny fluttering butterfly touches of her lips only, and his hands clutched at her, his hips rocking beneath her.

She could feel the crest of the wave coming, and she reached up and placed her hand very deliberately on his temple. He shuddered against her, gritting his teeth, his head tossing.

Mine. You are...Mine. She gently kissed him where he longed for her touch, just there at the joining of neck and shoulder, just there where he always kissed her. He cried out, body arching.

And just as you lay claim to me, so I now claim you. Mate. Mine. And she opened her mouth, using teeth and tongue to nip, to lave that sensitive place. His body was in climax just that fast as pleasure overwhelmed him, body and mind.

VIII.

"Oh, you're soooo not wearing that tonight. You can go right back in there and change."

"What? What are you on about? This is what they gave me! This, apparently, is what I'm supposed to wear!"

"No. No, it won't do, Amelia."

"Look. I can't wear jeans and a jumper to meet an elf Empress, and anyway, since when do you care what I wear?"

*Don't call them elves, and you know since when.*

"Doctor..."

"Did you even look in a mirror?"

"Well...yes...I had to in order to figure out how to get the bloody thing on until the the maid came in and helped me out. Oh, and she did my hair, too. Don't you like it?"

He made a gesture. "Like it? Like it? Amelia?" He grabbed her wrist and dragged her back into her room. She fought the whole way, but it was futile. When he got like this, it was like fighting a steam locomotive...

She shook off his hand as he put her in front of the huge mirror in her room. It took up half of one of the walls. He crossed his arms and waited.

She looked in the mirror, deliberately pretended not to see what he didn't like, and looked up at him in fake confusion.

"Again, I'm forced to ask, 'What?'"

He stood behind her, placed his hands lightly on her shoulders. There was no fabric between his hands and her skin. The sheer emerald green fabric draped like gossamer around her, and the gown fit her like a dream, but it was a bit décolleté... She'd also realized with something of a start that the very dark green undergarment, something a little like an old-fashioned corset, could be seen through the upper half of the gown and was intended to be so. That was why it was so ornate, she supposed. That had come as a bit of a surprise, too.

"Yes. You've got on a very dressy corset that everybody is supposed to see. Hmm. Why wouldn't I want you running around in that?"

"This isn't like you. You're never prudish about things. And if everybody else is wearing these, then I won't stand out at all, will I?" She turned and patted him on the cheek lightly.

He sighed as he watched her tuck a stray strand of hair back into the elaborate hairdo the maid had created for her tonight and as she fiddled with the wide green ribbon choker she wore around her neck, something her maid had devised to hide the mark he'd made on her earlier that evening as they "rested" before meeting the Empress at the ball tonight.

"Pond, you couldn't hide if you were trying and had an army full of gingers to help you out..."

He shook his head. "Alright then. Look. Just promise me three small things."

"Okay."

"One: please avoid the pale golden liquid you may be offered tonight. It is extremely strong. I don't know, in fact, that humans have ever tried it. It is called Lunacy, and, well, I know from personal experience that it lives up to its name."

She cocked her head sideways and looked at him. "Reeeaaally? That's a story I will have to hear..."

He rolled his eyes. "Later. Later. We're going to be late downstairs as it is..."

"Yeah, yeah. What's number two, then, Mr. Grumpy Pants?"

"Number Two: I want you to faithfully, truly, deeply promise me to be on your best behavior tonight, Pond, in that dress and with matters of protocol."

She bristled, fist balling.

"You've no idea how devastating you are."

She frowned, foot tapping.

"I mean that I want you to make sure that you watch out for the Rishellians. You're not a Rishellian lady, and some of them won't know whether to classify you "high" or "low," and may therefore make inappropriate comments or advances. Some of the High Lords think themselves...entitled. The Rishellians have a complex social system that is arcane and twisted and takes years of study to understand. Once false move, one insult given can wreck relations for centuries. That's why I have been so cautious about telling you not to call them elves, Amelia. They hate that."

She looked at him and nodded, some of the irritation leaving her face. He continued.

"And finally, I want you to make sure that if any of those damned elves so much as lay a finger on you that you break it clean off right before you bloody their noses for them. Can you do that for me, Pond?"

She grinned, leaned up and kissed him. "Of course."

He clapped his hands together. "Good. Great. Molto-bene. Shall we go down then?"