Thanks to dwood15 for betareading.

Twinkle 2.3

I really needed to figure out a better way to get my armor from place to place. As it was, I left my set, along with Aeglos, at PRT Headquarters for the night. I had a small, secure locker there now, apparently. It was deep, rather than tall. I couldn't have fit in this one.

Dad picked me up from the ferry in the evening, around dinnertime. I expected him to have questions.

Foremost among them was "What's happening with you and Sophia?"

"I'm giving her another chance," I told him wearily. "I… she wants to be a hero, she's just really bad at it."

"How can you know that?" he asked, his voice hard. "She sure hasn't been very heroic to you."

"I just do," I said. "I just… she has two desires, Dad. Sophia likes to be on top, to assert herself in a display of power. She wants to not feel weak. But at the same time, she likes to think of herself as a hero. What I have to do is show her that her desires are in conflict, and help her make the right choice."

"Why should you?" There was a lost note to his voice, under the growl. "You don't owe her anything!"

"Except my powers."

He didn't respond.

"It's not like that," I said gently. "No, I'm not doing this out of some misplaced sense of duty. I just… being a hero isn't about beating up the bad guys, it's about making the world better. And Shadow Stalker is part of that. If I can make her into a hero, that's one more hero—a real hero—in the world. That's worth fighting for. I can use heroes."

Dad sighed, turning onto another street. "I don't know if I could be that self-sacrificing, " he said quietly. "I'm not even sure I approve of you being that self-sacrificing. You're important too, you know."

"I know, Dad." I smiled. "On the plus side, soon I'll only have to deal with her in the Wards."

"Oh?" Dad was surprised. "They've already got you out of Winslow?"

"I'm being fast-tracked for Arcadia," I replied. "It'll take a couple of weeks, but I should be able to keep Sophia in check during the interim.

"Well, good," Dad said firmly. "I don't want you going back there ever again."

I simply smiled.

The next day I had Gladly's class in school with Madison. For the first time in quite a while, there was nothing unfortunate on my chair. No glue, no juice, nothing. Madison ignored me through the entire period, despite sitting fairly close.

I still wound up doing all the work for my group, though.

Sophia responded to the changed situation rather differently. Sophia ignored me through most of math. The lack of sneers in my direction was disconcerting. It wasn't that she didn't look my way; she did, if not as often as usual. But her brow was furrowed, and her teeth weren't bared. She was confused, not hateful.

Oddly enough, her expression wasn't the hateful rictus I might have expected, had I not known her as well as I now did. I'd won her respect, and now that she'd had a few hours and a night's rest to consider it, she'd assimilated me into her world-view. I was a survivor, now, like her and Emma.

All the better. It would be far easier to dismantle her world-view from there than from outside.

I didn't see Emma until lunch. She had her own way of coping. It wasn't a healthy one.

"Oh, Taylor!" Her voice, sickly sweet, called across the lunchroom. "You finally came back! I thought you'd be longer."

I glanced up from my ham sandwich at her, my face controlled. I was seated at one table, quite alone; she had stood up from another table, across the cafeteria. Beside her, Sophia was looking down, but I could see the tension in her jaw.

When Emma didn't continue, I returned to my food without a word.

"Did it all get to be too much for you?" Emma asked with macabre gentleness. "Did you have to take a break, to cry yourself to sleep for a few nights? At least it wasn't a week straight, this time."

I was barely aware of what I was doing when I stood up and whirled to face her. I don't know what the students around me saw, on my finger, but from my perspective the blue star of Vilya was practically incandescent. My fists and teeth clenched.

I met her eyes. She had started walking towards me as she spoke, but took a step back as I rose, her eyes widening ever so slightly.

It would be so easy. All I had to do was reach over, set my hand on her smooth skin, run my fingers through her soft hair, and let go. Let Vilya do its work. It would be so easy. I'd even be able to play it off as a moment of reconciliation. The PRT would know, if it was reported to them, but no one in Winslow was particularly inclined to report me except Sophia. And I could handle Sophia.

It would only take a moment, and Emma would be mine again, more than ever. Mine in sum; totally and utterly, body and mind. I'd never have to hear her snide insults or feel her verbal daggers in my back again.

It would be so easy. Just a moment of weakness, and I could have a lifetime of peace.

Vilya's light dimmed. Not yet, not here, and not like this. I wasn't sure I was better than that, but I was certainly smarter.

"Tread carefully, little Icarus," I said. My voice carried in the sudden silence. "You're flying a little too close to the sun."

Emma bared her teeth. "You think I—"

She's obsessed with strength. Emma had been confronted by her own weakness in the alley, two years ago, and had since tried to feel strong by treading on the backs of others. If she were worth the investment, that would be the avenue I'd take to shape her into something useful.

Right now, I was feeling vindictive. I took the route instead to destroy her.

"I knew a little girl," I said coldly, cutting her off, "who loved her friends, and valued the truth, and knew right from wrong. That girl suffered, as we all do. You want to know the difference between her and me?"

I gazed into her eyes, watched the pupils dilate, watched her breasts—my, how jealous I'd once been of those—rise and fall in an accelerating tempo. I waited until she tried to say something, anything, to reclaim control of the conversation, and then cut her off.

"I survived my trial. She broke."

She tried to say something. I don't know what it was; I didn't listen. I just left.

"So, how is it, working with the PRT?" Dad asked over dinner on Wednesday night.

"Nice," I said honestly. "They finished testing with Nenya and Vilya today, so that's all of the Three."

"What do they do, exactly? I remember you using Hope on me, on Monday. That's Narya, right?"

"Right," I replied happily. "Narya, the Ring of Fire. Provides hope and resistance to domination to its Bearer and to allies around them. Besides that, it gives me enhanced strength, and the ability to demand respect from those around me."

"Sounds powerful."

"It is. I could probably beat a lot of the worst villains in the world right now because Narya makes me immune to masters, as far as I can tell. I'm hoping the PRT gets off their ass about putting me against those villains soon."

Dad looked nervous. "Just… be careful, okay?"

"I will," I promised.

"And then there's… Nenya?"

I nodded. "Nenya, the Ring of Water," I said. "It protects its bearer and their allies from harm, whether that's by projecting barriers, enhancing their senses, or keeping them hidden."

"It can do all that?" Dad sounded impressed, and well he should.

"Yeah. They're all like that; crazy grab-bags of really strong powers."

"And what's the last one?"

"Vilya, the Ring of Air. The strongest of the Three. Vilya gives me control: over the elements, over people, over the future."

Dad stared at me. "That sounds… frightening."

"It can be," I replied seriously. "Vilya's the Ring I used to fight Lung, and that was my first time out with it. I still haven't figured out everything it can do."

"What do you mean, 'haven't figured out?'"

"The Rings don't come with an instruction manual. I'm learning, but there's a lot about each one I don't know." The PRT had been concerned about the way my powers sometimes just revealed more about themselves when I needed them. It made my powers hard to predict or plan around—a good thing, if I was working alone, but I wasn't anymore. They'd made me promise to report new powers for testing as soon as they appeared.

I'd agreed. It wasn't a hard oath to break, if I needed to.

"Think you could maybe control the gangs a bit?" Dad asked with a wry chuckle. "Might be nice to have some peace and quiet in the docks, for once."

"I could probably do that," I agreed teasingly. "It'll cost you, though."

"Oh?" his voice was light. "What price do you demand, Lord of Gifts?"

"Everlasting obedience," I said stiffly. "An eternity of servitude to my dark throne. Also, peeled grapes. Every day."

"Anything else, oh great and powerful one?"

"Hmm," I said, resting my cheek thoughtfully against my left hand, my skin chilling slightly as it came in contact with Vilya. "I don't suppose you could build me a tower, could you? A big, black one, taller than the Rig, from which I could oversee my domain?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Going into real estate, now?"

"Hey, shorefront property is all the rage, these days!"

He laughed. I joined him. It had been too long, I thought, since last we did this; laughing together like a father and daughter enjoying a private joke ought to.

In the kitchen, the kettle sang.

"Oh, I'll get that," Dad said. "Decaf, right?"

"Please."

I watched as he went to the counter and began to prepare an herbal infusion from teabags.

"So…" Dad began, breaking the silence, "what kind of stuff have you been doing with the Wards?"

"They haven't actually announced my membership, or even my existence, yet," I told him. "I'm still basically confined to the Rig and PRT Headquarters until they do."

"They're probably still trying to decide how they want to go about it."

"Probably" I agreed "I have the final say on most of it, although they have veto power if I do something stupid about it. De—um. Clockblocker got his name because he announced it live without consulting them."

"They weren't happy about that, I bet." Dad opened a cabinet, rummaging around for a pair of mugs.

"It isn't exactly G," I agreed.

"Shouldn't he have the right to his own brand? I mean, he goes out and risks his life for people."

I shrugged. "You'd think," I said dryly. "God forbid the heroes be human. They have to be PR paragons, every one."

"You don't sound bitter at all," said Dad with a chuckle. Teabags were dropped into each cup, and he began to pour the steaming water into them.

"I'm not, really. They love me. I'm literally going to be a knight in shining armor. As long as I don't do anything stupid, I'll be fine. I still don't like having to bow and scrape or whatever, but it could be a lot worse."

"I suppose it could." Dad returned to the table with the two mugs. One he passed to me. I took the warm porcelain and held it in both hands, enjoying the heat on my fingers.

"Thanks." I smiled at him.

"You're welcome. But if you're not out beating up crooks, what have you been doing?"

"Tinkering, mostly. I finished my—oh, let me show you!"

I set down my teacup, crossed the room, tripped over the couch, got to my backpack and pulled out the small mithril lockbox I'd crafted at the Rig.

Dad laughed at me. I stuck my tongue out at him as I stood up again.

"This," I said, returning to my seat, "is the Jewelry Box. I finished it yesterday."

"It doesn't have a lock on it," Dad said, bemused.

"Try to open it," I said, passing it to him.

He did. After straining for a moment, he handed it back. "Wow, that's one strong box. Lid didn't even budge."

I took it and rang my finger along the line where the opening would appear. In a hushed whisper, I spoke the command words: "Edro a adlenc!"

The shimmering glow of the Rings of Power within pierced the air as the box sprang wide, filling our dingy little room with multicolored light. Narya's red and gold played merrily on the walls alongside Nenya's silver and white. Their mesh formed an effect not unlike sunbeams filtered through several feet of clear water.

Dad sucked in a breath through a mouth which had fallen open, his wide brown eyes reflecting the glimmer like the warm light of a campfire.

"It's protected by a command phrase in Sindarin," I explained. "Since no one else knows Sindarin, it's pretty safe."

"Sounds useful," Dad agreed, his voice a little faint, his eyes still tracking the patterns of light on the wall.

I closed the Jewelry Box and set it aside by my plate. Dad shook himself and turned back to me. "Anyway, you've been doing a lot of forging on the Rig," he said. "Any particular reason you can't do that here?"

"I mean, they prefer me to anyway," I said, considering. "But that's not the main reason. They just have better equipment. I need heat for forging, and sometimes an ice water bath for quenching. Besides that, I need access to good steel and other metals, because it's easier to transmute those into mithril, and not everything's made out of mithril anyway."

Dad nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah," he said. "I can see why you'd rather work there. Just… tell me if you're going to stay there overnight, all right?"

"Sure," I promised. "I doubt I'll need to any time soon. I've got most of the equipment I really need in the short term now; I'll probably be supplying my teammates for a while. Did you know Vista goes into combat unarmed? She should have a dagger, at least. And a sword would work well with Gallant's armor."

Dad smiled. "You're definitely not short on ideas. I hope they appreciate what you do for them."

"They will," I said. "Once they've got the equipment I can offer, they definitely will."