A Lair
Blossom didn't have a way to check the time, so she guessed it was late afternoon by the position of the sun. She and Buttercup had walked all the way around Hestus and now found themselves back at Harbor Island, watching the last few crates come off their ships. Blossom sighed, defeated. She had procrastinated long enough; it was time to head to her gilded cage and the hungry animal she'd be trapped with for the foreseeable future. "Do you want a weapon?" Buttercup offered, picking up on her hesitancy. She stopped one of the porters and kicked open a chest. Blossom's jaw dropped at the sheer number of blades within. "They are all enchanted for durability, and some can penetrate magical barriers." Buttercup proffered a slender dagger. "I recommend this platinum stiletto. Easy to hide among clothing folds."
Blossom started to hand it back but then faltered. It had an elegant design, and anyone in their right mind would gladly accept an Elvish blade for free. It featured a rainbow of gemstones embedded in the crossguard to deal a bit of elemental damage: sapphire for ice, ruby for fire, topaz for thunder, etcetera. Powerful mages like her didn't require wands or anything to perform spells because their bodies were so attuned to channeling magical energies, but it never hurt to have an extra conduit just in case. Also, the stiletto was long and sharp and would easily slip between Brick's ribs to pierce his heart should the occasion arise. "Thank you, Buttercup." The Elf ducked her chin and wandered off to the stairways.
"Your Highness?" Blossom turned to face the captain of her ship. He held out a small enameled box. "You left this in your cabin." How could she have been so thoughtless? It contained the laudanum and the Tear of Iris, both sealed with a lock that only she could open. She gave the man a grateful smile, waiting around until the ship left its berth, then she faced Hestus. To Brick's abode.
Much to her surprise, she didn't have far to go. Just a short distance along the inner right wall of the cone she discovered a terminus. It made sense to simply teleport all her provisions to the fortress looming high above her head. Instead of utilizing it, Blossom spread her wings and flew straight up, circling the entire structure in an attempt to glean weak points. Most of the windows were stained glass so she couldn't see through them, much to her chagrin, and she didn't see perforations of any kind. It really was like a prison of rock. She landed on a widow's walk and tried the door. It was locked, as was reasonable, but a simple spell granted her access. She was not expecting it to lead to the room that it did.
The ceiling was illusory, lined with obsidian to reflect outside light. Below her lay one of the most beautiful archives Blossom had ever been in. The shelves were of rich mahogany wood, not typical stone, and arranged in a spiral pattern with a cozy reading area directly beneath the rotunda. She descended slowly, disturbing dust motes and cobwebs indicating no one had been there in a long time, or the staff didn't clean that high up. She hovered beside a shelf at random and ran her finger along the spines of the books. Newer editions, every one. There was no way Brick had read all these tomes when hundreds were thicker than her handspan. She assumed he must have collected them for the prestige.
Blossom continued to hover while studying the double doors to the archive. They were also of mahogany and depicted a scene from the tale of Haiden's Descent, or however he was known to the Demons. Pixie myth went that Haiden grew jealous of the water god's affections for Iris and attempted to slay him, but Neros evaded him and made his murderous intent known to the other gods. Haiden stood at the edge of the Void, fighting them all off until the wind goddess, Aella, blew him off-balance with a mighty breath. Then Haiden fell and only twelve gods remained to shape Erd for the mortals. The images on the door showed Haiden attempting to climb out of the Void during the Equinox, the shortest day of the year when Iris' light was barely bright enough to keep him contained. But maybe she wanted him to escape the Void so they could be reunited.
The doors creaked horribly as Blossom pushed them open. When she turned around, she shrieked upon coming face to face with a pair of icy blue eyes glowing in the dark. They narrowed to judgmental slits, then Blossom heard a snap and candles flared to life along the corridor. They illuminated a statuesque female Demon who wasn't quite glaring at her, but she definitely didn't look thrilled with Blossom's presence. "Why did you not come through the terminus?" the Demon demanded.
"Because…" She felt like snooping around? "It was crowded with porters."
"You are not skilled at lying, Your High…" Blossom quirked an eyebrow as the Demon paused to adopt a more deferential demeanor. "Mistress. The Master has been awaiting you for some time."
"And who are you to refer to Brick as 'Master'?" Blossom questioned.
The woman bowed at the waist. "My name is Morrigan le Fae. I am Master Brick's Head of Household."
"Le Fae?" Blossom leaned back on one foot to study her. She had burgundy hair and her skin was deep sepia with a violet sheen, but it wasn't dark enough to hide the markings on her shoulders that most other species mistook for tattoos. Thin black lines formed the same pattern as the veins in Blossom's wings, like they had been branded onto Morrigan's back. But it was the result of a familial curse, not a brand. "You are half Pixie, then?"
"On my mother's side," she confirmed.
Blossom's countenance softened. "I never thought I would meet a le Fae in person." Morrigan smiled partially. Most people wanted to track down the le Faes in an attempt to break their curse and collect the fortune the founder of their house, Myrddin, had offered three-hundred years ago when he sustained it. The curse withheld an inherent biological privilege, so being half Pixie meant Morrigan had a right to fly, but she couldn't. And that made Blossom sad.
"Do not pity me," Morrigan said as if reading her mind. "It is not as if I had access to something that was then taken away."
"Still…" It didn't seem fair that Myrddin's ancestors had to suffer because he pissed off an Angel. Blossom switched subjects entirely. "How did you come to be Brick's Head of Household?"
"I offered when he was given this castle," the Demon explained. "We are childhood friends who attended the same magic lessons, and my father is noble. Queen Lilita convinced him to let me serve, although I could have pursued a more… illustrious position."
As a mage, no doubt. "What type of magic did you wish to master?"
"Elemental, fire." Blossom's brow rose, impressed. Of the four classical elements, fire was notoriously difficult due to its erratic nature. "And you?" Morrigan wondered.
"I know a bit of everything, but my calling seems to be with the sky."
Now Morrigan looked impressed. "As in celestial?" Blossom nodded, humble. Of the three branches of magic –elemental, spiritual, and celestial– the latter was considered the most prestigious because it focused on manipulating the fabrics of reality, forces like gravity, permanence, and time. One's propensity for celestial magic could be determined by how quickly they learned to perform a stasis spell, if at all. Blossom had mastered it when she was six years old. "If you desire to continue your studies…" Morrigan indicated the double doors. "You are aware of the location of the archive."
Blossom smiled. "It may very well become my home within my… new residence." Her home would always be Floria where the people who loved her lived. She was here for them, not Brick. Just thinking his name made her sigh. "Please lead me to my husband." Morrigan's leisurely pace allowed her to take in more of the castle. Its cold stone walls were warmed by mahogany everything, from the floor to the fixtures, archways to crown molding, furniture to finials. Reds and golds also served to enhance the inviting air. "Where did all this wood come from?" Blossom asked.
"The Master had it imported from Fawna," Morrigan replied. "Although Hael's soil is very fertile due to its volcanic ash content, our acidic rains hinder the growth of most plants. It is much easier to import timber on an as-needed basis." She rounded a corner and Blossom found herself in a great room, another obsidian ceiling providing a dim reflection. Brick stood in front of a massive unlit fireplace and rotated with his brow creased in irritation.
"Where have you been?" he demanded of Blossom. "I've been waiting for you all day."
"I familiarized myself with this island," she spoke in a pleasant tone, "and made the acquaintance of your subjects. As one does when they undergo a permanent relocation." She cast her gaze about. "What have you done with my accoutrements?"
"Everything's been organized and put away, with no help from you." Brick was actually tired from ordering his servants around for so long. "Don't blame me if you can't find something."
"I trust my belongings have been sensibly stored." She continued looking around while Brick gave her a prolonged stare; he expected her to be more antagonistic. The quiet was disrupted by a dinner bell that made Blossom wince and rub her ear, but she tried to play it off by tucking back a strand of hair. Maybe Brick would switch the bell for one less shrill. Maybe.
"Hungry?" he asked, offering his arm.
Blossom accepted, walking at his side like she belonged there. Why did she have a problem with their waltz at the reception if she was perfectly willing to let him lead? As they entered the dining hall, she said, "Thank you for seeing to the placement of my things, and I trust the marital gifts are to your satisfaction?"
Brick pulled out a chair for her, and she sat primly. He sat at the head of the table and Morrigan seated herself to his left, gaze flicking between them in keen observance of their interactions. "Everything will be appreciated in time. Although…" He snapped his fingers at one of the kobold servers. "Bring each of us a glass of the Florian white wine, the autumn vintage."
"Yes, Master." The blue creature returned to the kitchen with a loping gait.
"You know wine?" Blossom pressed.
Brick scoffed lightly. "It's not mortar science. They taste best when enjoyed during the season opposite the vintage."
"And when does summer come to Hael? What can I expect the weather to be like?"
Brick deferred to Morrigan as their drinks arrived, sipping. "Spring is the most tepid season we experience. In summer, the days are very hot and humid and it often rains at night. There will be algae blooms in the sea that attract all manner of marine creatures, and this is where many of our seasonal delicacies come from. Some are an acquired taste, so we would not be offended if you declined to try them."
"They cannot be that exotic…" Blossom was surprised by the pasta dish in a buttery clam, mussel, and scallop sauce that was served to her. She would shortly be eating her words.
"We do not have the means to raise livestock, so Demons subsist on the fruits of the sea," Morrigan explained. "Our cuisine can be too rich for some. I advise you to eat slowly."
"And enjoy your wine. It pairs quite well with tonight's meal." Brick had to give himself a pat on the back for his stroke of culinary genius, but he didn't deserve all the credit. Blossom's people grew the best grapes in Erd; even the Angels liked to use Florian fruits in their ambrosia. "I think we need a toast." The two women automatically raised their glasses. "To the developing relationship between Floria and Hael." Blossom was rightfully suspicious of those words but drank to them nonetheless.
Once they had finished, Blossom observed the clockwork efficiency with which a stream of little familiars and the larger kobolds cleared the table. Brick stood and held out his hand. "Come, let me show you to our quarters." A sinking feeling occurred in the pit of her stomach. Their first night together was supposed to be the consummation of their marriage. Her free hand went to the pocket on her belt where she heard the bottle of laudanum clinking within her keepsake box. Brick pointed out a few other rooms that normally would've held interest, but Blossom's focus was on the fact that she'd have to sleep in the same bed with him every night unless one of them drove the other way. But she didn't snore, or toss and turn, or get up to fetch water in the middle of the night, so how could she get Brick to throw her out of his room? The pile of cushions in the archive looked comfortable enough.
Suddenly he snapped his fingers in front of her nose and she flinched, swatting his hand away on reflex. "Do not snap at me. I am not one of your servants."
"Did you hear anything I said in the last five minutes?" They frowned at each other. "I thought you might appreciate the observatory."
"Observatory?" Her change in attitude nearly gave Brick whiplash. "You have a telescope?"
"And star charts." Her eyes sparkled. "Go down this hall here. It's at the end." Blossom breezed past him, wings aflutter. "Come to bed when you're finished!" he called after her, receiving a dismissive wave. Brick looked smug. His plan to win her over with cool stuff just might work.
The sun had set during dinner and now the moon was rising. Brick shucked off his clothes and donned a silk robe for bed, getting comfortable before opening a book he sent one of the familiars to purchase earlier that day. Pleasuring Pixies: A Guide to Making Delicate Love. Not that he needed a manual to tell him how to fuck his wife, he just wanted to ensure Blossom got something out of it so she wouldn't turn his balls blue. He ignored the first half of the guide entirely since it concerned males and turned to part two, chapter twenty-three: Preventing Injury. Always good to know what not to do.
"Female Pixies are even more susceptible to injury than males. While males can withstand approximately five pounds of external force before contusions appear, females can withstand no more than three. Their bruising will also be more severe as their blood vessels are thinner and rupture easily. It is the responsibility of the lover to remain conscientious and pay attention to the reactions of their mate in order to avoid harming her." So basically be gentle, like Butch said. Brick flipped a few pages ahead to a diagram. "The weakest bones in the female skeleton are those comprising the hands and feet. Binding or shackling the ankles and/or wrists is highly not recommended." Well, that was no fun.
He scanned more chapters until spotting one titled Erogenous Zones. Now he was getting somewhere. "As mentioned in chapter 23, although the wrists and ankles are especially fragile, they are also sensitive areas that respond well to physical touch." Could that be why it'd been so easy to compel Blossom at the reception? Maybe Brick's impromptu massage had legitimately turned her on. A wing diagram was next. "The muscles that control Pixies' wings are the strongest in their bodies. Females, weighing less than males, can sustain flight for ten continuous hours. Although fatigue is unlikely to set in before reaching that threshold, massaging around and between the thoracic tendons will be greatly appreciated by the mate." He logged that information away for use in the near future.
Brick didn't know how much time passed before Blossom cautiously stuck her head through the door, which he'd left ajar for her. She saw him holding a book in one hand and making an odd gesture with the other, lowering both as she slipped inside and stood stiffly. "Don't mind me," he said. "Make yourself comfortable for bed."
She had to admit that the bed looked sumptuous. The large square frame featured the most intricate woodwork she'd yet seen. The headboard was upholstered with red velvet and a heavy maroon fabric trimmed with gold fringe and tassels formed the canopy overhead. Pillows in silk cases awaited her, and the duvet was of crimson satin embroidered with gold filigree patterns. All the red made it seem suited for passionate activities rather than sleeping which was probably what Brick anticipated, unless he just liked the color scheme and she should stop being so paranoid.
Blossom set her keepsake box on the nightstand before examining her apparent half of the room. She sat at the vanity, put the stiletto in the drawer, and removed the plethora of pins from her braid. Then she loosened it, brushed her hair for a while, and plaited it again, securing it in a pile atop her head. It was, admittedly, a hassle to maintain, but she wasn't going to cut it until it actually reached the floor. Then she went to clean her teeth and found that the bathroom sensibly featured stone instead of wood that would've warped and grown moldy. Finally she opened the armoire, seeing her dresses, blouses, and skirts arranged by color. She'd reorganize them herself by length and fabric. Blossom traded her seafaring outfit for a silk slip, feeling the heat of Brick's gaze during her nude interim.
When she faced him, she watched his eyes travel up and down her body so many times it was a wonder they didn't detach from his face. "Are you finished?" she asked, hand on her hip.
"I will never tire of looking at you," he answered, turning a page in his book.
Blossom situated herself beneath the duvet, sighing when it seemed she'd sunk into a cloud. Given that she could lounge among clouds in the sky, it was an accurate comparison. "This bed is… so soft," she breathed.
"Phoenix down," Brick said.
She rolled over, incredulous. "Phoenix down? As in the mythical firebird?"
"They're not so mythical in Hael," he refuted, "quite common, actually. They make their nests inside the necks of active volcanoes."
"Unbelievable…" Blossom muttered. Some avian expert was seriously not doing their job if they'd never written about phoenixes living in abundance in Hael.
Many minutes passed in silence. She was almost asleep when she heard Brick close his book and slide over to her. "Forgetting something?" he lowly inquired.
"Mm… no," Blossom replied, voice laden with exhaustion. She'd done a lot today and deserved some rest.
He brushed the spot below her ear, making her shiver. Just as sensitive as described. "Kiss me goodnight."
"You may kiss me if you want one so badly," she grumbled. Chuckling, he leaned over to press his lips to hers in a manner that felt sweet. But then, because he was Brick, he opened his mouth and ruined the moment.
"How many sharp objects accompanied you into this room tonight?" A chill went down Blossom's spine. "Counting all your hairpins as one, the dagger, the bodice knife, and whatever's in that little box of yours… The answer is too many and I don't appreciate any of them."
She tried not to tremble at how vulnerable she was with her back to him. "You are mistaken. There is nothing sharp in my keepsake box."
"But there is a weapon you would use against me." Blossom faced him with a silent query. How did he know? "Perception," he stated, irises flaring with power. "Nothing goes on in my home that I don't see. Don't think you can subvert me, defy me, or plot to kill me in my fucking castle." He gripped her upper arm hard enough to leave a handprint, biting out each word. "In the outside world I might just be a prince, but within these walls I'm the fucking king. Now, what do you say when your king requests a kiss goodnight?"
Blossom refused to give him the satisfaction. Brick stared at her, unblinking, and she could feel him trying to get into her head again, trying to compel her to speak the words. Boomer's advice sounded hazy as he flooded her thoughts with tell me tell me tell me, ordering her to obey. But she was sick of his ego and attempts to force her into compliance. She was a gods-damned princess, someone slated to rule over an entire kingdom, and Brick had taken that away from her. He was the king of his castle? Fine. That made her the queen since their marriage had been one of equals. And the queen did not remove her crown in order to make her husband feel superior.
She cupped his face with both hands, drew close to his lips, and whispered against them. "Your Majesty…" Brick started to grin. "You have no power over me."
