SEE CHAPTER ONE FOR WARNINGS AND NECESSARY DISCLAIMERS.

Context : Still in Emerald Hollow and featuring a bit of a lull between the episode with the common war council and Theo's "fix".

ENVY V

When they return, the house is virtually empty—Hadrian must have called ahead to warn them, for Theo mumbles something about a curfew and everyone heads upstairs.

Harry was on his way downstairs at the sudden exodus. He retreats to the new nursery room once more at Theo's stern look. He doesn't want to have this conversation, but something tells him it'll happen by hook or crook whether he wants to or not.

So he sits in the nursery and waits.

It isn't long.

"Staying here by yourself?" Theo inquires. He hovers in the doorway, but makes no move to enter.

Harry's kind of glad for that. He's half-relieved that he can now get this over with and half-embarrassed, because really, this baby is making him feel things.

"Yeah…do you mind?"

"If you need space, it's fine," Theo murmurs. "I'd rather you asked for it and took it, instead of bottling everything up inside and waiting until you couldn't stand it anymore."

Harry almost smiles. He's gotten better at expressing himself in the past few years and he's happy knowing that Theo has noticed that. "Just a little."

"Hadrian and the others will be back soon, so stay in here, alright? I don't think you should tangle with them tonight."

"Alright," Harry agrees. He leans forward to bump Theo's chin, nuzzling gently into his neck and breathing in that familiar scent. Theo is right. He does want some space right now—before he does something else stupid.

"Take whatever you need," Theo says, firmly. He catches Harry's chin, holding him still for a good kiss. "Come to me if you need to. Don't get lost in that head of yours."

Harry can smile this time and it's genuine. Because Theo really understands him so very well. He watches Theo retreat to their normal, shared room.

Loud voices announce the arrival of his Gheyos and Harry hastily backs into the room. He doesn't shut the door all the way though, leaving it open just a sliver to see how they are.

The scent of blood is nearly overwhelming, before the massive protective wards ripple to life.

Half-Theo and half-Hadrian, Harry is sure, because the familiar twist of their magic is comforting and sure.

Hadrian is at his growly best, ordering about the rambunctious ones. From his foul-mouthed Joker, to the prim and haughty Queen, his rebellious Prince and the adorable Princess.

Wikhn is exempt from this sort of group scolding. He only watches them with his steady red eyes, a slight warning that hints they should behave and listen to their ACE.

Their Gheyo Suite is full of proud and powerful fighters and Harry adores them all. He leans against the door, grateful that it doesn't creak. He's always wondered what they would do on their own at this point.

"Fine, fine, whatever. We apologize," someone calls out. "We're all sorry and no one's got any hurt feelings. Can we fuck now?"

Hadrian groans. "Don't you have any sense of-"

"He has a point-"

"…Who's calling shots?" The Joker demands. He stretches his hands overhead. "I want to top."

"You always want to top," The Princess complains. "Why can't you just be a good little-"

"I want to top too," the Queen protests. "I'm always on the bottom. Why do I always have to be the-"

"Can't we draw for it?" the Prince wants to know. "I always end up on the other end too and that's not fair-!"

Four pairs of eyes look to Wikhn and Hadrian.

"ACE—Wikhn!" they chorus in alternate pleas.

And everyone talks at once, until Wikhn growls at them to all shut up. He holds out a hand with a coin in the center.

"Heads or tails?" He barks.

There are quick murmurs of agreement, as they decide what they want and the coin is flipped. Hadrian snatches the coin from mid-air and slaps it down on Wikhn's wrist.

It's an unspoken agreement that they will only top unless they feel otherwise. The others are simply eager to indulge as soon as possible to wear out the bloodlust. The sooner they start, the sooner it'll be out of their systems—and it's been a very long day.

"Top," Wikhn calls out, tapping the Queen and Prince on his way past.

Both the Joker and the Princess groan in answer to that, but neither actively complain when they are claimed by their respective counterparts. It's not really an actual argument. Adjustments can be made—eventually. It's simply a matter of who wants to be first and sometimes—they all want it.

The resulting scuffle and hustle leaves Hadrian and Wikhn standing in the hallway and watching them chase each other to the other end, amidst much growling and hissing.

"That's…going to be bloody…" Hadrian mutters—wincing when he sees the Prince tackle their Joker to the ground. It takes a half-second for the others to join in the unplanned dog-pile of sorts. He's definitely sitting this one out, unless they need a referee. That last slash looks rather painful and he'd like to avoid more pain.

Wikhn looks away. "You want to stop them or would you rather—?"

"I'll watch them," Hadrian says, scrubbing a hand through his bloody hair. "You can have the other two."

Wikhn grunts in acknowledgement. He turns to leave, only to be caught by a hand on his arm. "Hmm?"

Something unspoken passes between them and then Wikhn huffs, reaching up to yank on his collar—pulling Hadrian down to a more suitable height. They kiss—briefly—and then break apart, with Wikhn wiping a hand over his mouth and Hadrian visibly relaxing at the very obvious acknowledgement.

"You reek of hound's blood," Wikhn grumbles. "There was no reason to drench yourself in it."

"You're not exactly a fresh rose in bloom yourself," Hadrian retorts. But he doesn't care and he knows Wikhn doesn't either. He's glad to be back in his King's good graces though—an irritated Wikhn was a force of nature all on its own.

"That would be Quinn," Wikhn snarks.

Hadrian stifles a laugh. Quinn does have a knack for always being perfectly presented, but he wagers it has to do more with his Healer's status and large repertoire of personal grooming spells. "Need help to wash anything?" He picks at the bloody joints on his gauntlet. He could use some help, but he also has a feeling that there's something else Wikhn needs to tend to.

"This armor has charms on it." Wikhn grunts, already magically undoing the buckles that keep it secured to his torso. He bites back a hiss as a few bent pieces ease out of his sore side. They've half-healed over and he hadn't noticed in time. "You?"

"Same."

"…I want new armor. This one's all bent at the corner."

"Theo just bought you a-"

"No. You." Wikhn says, an edge in his voice.

Hadrian is silent for a moment. Then he nods—stiffly. If this is the peace offering and punishment rolled into one, then he'll take it. After all, it isn't as if he can't afford it. His Wikhn should have everything he desires and no matter what the price.

Wikhn sniffs. "I'll sketch it tomorrow." He likes to design his own pieces and with his unusual talents there are always custom adjustments beyond the usual personal tailoring.

It will be an expensive suit of armor.

Hadrian winces, thinking about it now. Maybe he should have protested.

Wikhn elbows him, almost automatically, as if he knows exactly where Hadrian's thoughts have wandered off to. It's not like his ACE can't afford it and such a gesture will certainly close the gap on soothing his ruffled temper from their latest hiccup.

A few good-natured shoves follow that—a balancing of egos, before the duo continues on down the hall, after their fellow Bonded.

Harry feels a spark of warmth beginning to burn in his belly. He is frozen in place as those burning red eyes seem to stare directly at him as Wikhn passes the barely closed door. There is so much hurt in those dark eyes, that Harry doesn't know how to handle it.

There was no tempering at all in that single rush of pure emotion that filtered through their bond. And oh, that does hurt. He didn't mean it. He didn't really mean it, not that way. He was just—but the excuses aren't helping and Harry doesn't have the strength to make up anything else to help his case.

For a single second, he can't breathe—and the following seconds either until Wikhn and Hadrian are out of range of his empathy. Harry slumps to the floor, braced against the wall, one hand over his mouth and the other over his racing heart. He really needs to hurry up and let go of this—the sooner, the better.

Or he won't have much of a heart left.

Something tells him that a simple apology is not going to fix this and he doesn't even know where to start. The hand on his heart slides down to rest on his baby bump. He can't blame this all on the baby. Even if it would be the most convenient excuse…

A frustrated sigh escapes as Harry tugs on his flat hair. He needs to sleep and then think of a plan. There has to be a way to sort this out properly—and he needs to think of a really good way to apologize.

Again, this is NOT TBDH-canon.

Chapter 108 is at 12k words right now. I didn't quite get it done for Christmas, but I'm aiming for the end of the year, along with a few other projects (Treasured Sands novel!) and stuff, so we'll see how that works out. I wanted to post a chapter of this Christmas Fic yesterday, but with all the family and RL holiday chaos, I just haven't sat down in front of my laptop long enough to manage it.

Anyhow, you guys the awesomest readers and fans an author could have! Thank you SO much! Merry Christmas to you and yours from my corner of the world!

This picks right back up where I left it last year, I just didn't have edits in, because I tend to have a lot of typos when I'm typing too fast...Anyway, Enjoy the Read! I think there's two more chapters to wrap up "Envy" and then we're onto the next sin. ^_^

THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! ~Scion