They returned to find the manse up in arms, Pen had told no one she and Crevan were going to the Graveyard. Nuada was less than pleased to have woken up alone. He had searched the whole manse for her.

"...That was a stupid move." He said, getting the two of them into the solar. "...They could have used the opportunity to attack both of you."

"I needed to see Lochain before I do this..." Pen said. "I did not think a quick jaunt would upset you."

"You did not think..." He growled.

Not liking the way Nuada was fuming he stepped to defend Pen.

"I am equally responsible." Crevan said. "I agreed to go."

Nuada frowned, his patience tested beyond measure in the last weeks with the Aen Elle and other factions he snapped at the Sage.

"You, Lord Crevan. Are rapidly becoming a thorn in my side..." Nuada hissed. "...I will not play this game any longer."

The blow was sift, drawing blood. Crevan stumbled back and fell. Anger, cold and clear crept across Crevan's face and he launched himself at Nuada. No magick, only brute strength. The table splintered, sending dishes and liquids flying. An opening and the both found themselves facing the point of Pen's blades. Nuada knew he'd fucked up, Crevan looked up the blade at her with disbelief.

"Enough..." She said, standing between them. "...Just enough."

Nuada wiped the blood from his mouth, Crevan spat his to the floor as he levered up to his feet.

"As my lady wishes..." Crevan said and marched out into his own quarters.

"Go..." Nuada said. "Do what you must..."

Pen walked out, her heart torn in two.

Aethen went to find her, knowing she'd avoid her usual spot. He hoped she wasn't out hitting trees. He found her in the temple, her gear before her. She was asking the luck of the gods for this mission.

"...I expected one of them," She said, lighting a bit of incense. "but I know neither will apologize or beg."

He lit some as well, looking up at the face of the goddess of night and death.

"...You also know neither will be happy until you return." He said. "...I told him to talk, apparently that means with his fists."

"Crevan could have fried him...but went bare knuckle instead."

"Ya, you don't waste power on the stupid..." Aethen said. "Both are sporting some interesting bruises. The sage can hold his own..."

"He was a Red rider long before he was a sage..." Pen said. "...I do not know how to sort this out..."

"You and Crevan are still new, it will create feelings you haven't felt in a while."

"I'm beginning to understand how Nuada felt, torn between two loves..." She said. "Especially since I never intended to feel it with anyone else."

"...Nor did I." He turned to her. "...I hold a bond too. I feel the conflict, the pain."

She looked into Athen's violet eyes.

"Help me dress...my dark star."

Aethen smiled, here in the temple dressing her would be a sacred act to the goddess.

Aethen's hands worked the ties on her clothing, pushing it back off her shoulders to pool at her feet. He knelt, kissing her navel and untied her trousers, his fingers brushing the small cluster of black stars on her thigh. He traced the bramble knots with gentle fingers, pulling energy up through them. His hands traveled upward, cupping her breasts before cupping her cheeks to kiss her. She poured every ounce of her frustration into the kiss, as he moved to lay her on the ground. The contact was brief, He pulled away to divest himself of his tunic, her hands moving over his skin. He laid his head on her shoulder, reminded of the price he'd pay if it went any further. She lay there stroking his skin.

He rose, clearly affected. He pulled her up, pressing her against him. He lifted her to sit on the altar, returning to kiss her keeping her hands away from the ties of his own trousers. Her hands moved up and down his back, into his waist band to cup his ass. He pulled back, looking down. He picked up the first piece of her clothing she was going to wear, sliding over her head. He stood her up long enough to put on the trousers, all between kisses. He knelt to tie the sashes, and fasten the belts.

She stood before him, an echo of the male she was going to rescue save in shades of red and black. He pulled the mantle over her shoulders, fastening it with the blackened ring broaches and a garnet brooch. A last kiss, lingering. He knew why she was doing this, not for the mission or some blessing. Without Ciri or Crevan the House of the Swallow would not exist, and an Ally lost. Whoever had written the diary, knew what to say to spark her motives.

"...We will return to the manse now." She said. "And gather our little band."

He pulled on his tunic, nodding.

#

A few hours later...

Pen sent word to Nuada and Crevan of her return, saying she'd be in the Orb-Weaver if they needed her. She was on her third cider when a mug was plunked in front of her.

"...Water, drink it."

She looked up to see Nuada, dressed in simple clothes, a bruise a deep crimson on his jaw. It said that He and Crevan had not stopped their "talk" after she had left.

"...When I'm drunk enough."

"Now..." He said. "And food..."

Tindel brought a bowl of stew and a thick piece of buttered bread.

"...fuck off." She hissed, in no mood to talk to him or anyone else.

He slammed his hand on the table, making the bowl jump and spill.

"Stubborn wench..."

"You are one to talk of stubborn..."

He stopped realizing what she'd seen in her journey, and the condition of the two she rescued.

"...I do not wish to argue." He said. "...and its enough you came here to hide."

"I"m not hiding, I'm getting drunk...difference."

"...and neglecting a charge." He said. "...Eat something at least."

She stood and threw the mug of water in his face before heading toward the back where Tindel and Aethen kept rooms.