Saetan drained the wine in the glass before setting it back on the blackwood desk. He smiled affectionately to himself as he gazed out the window of his study, down at Tersa who was releasing her rose bush from some weeds in the garden below. She was moving slowly at eight months now, but still surprisingly easily and without fuss. Her pregnancy couldn't have passed any more different to Hekatah's.
Saetan had enjoyed the last few months immensely, relishing in the kind of contentment and intimacy during a pregnancy that could only come from a woman as selfless and wise as Tersa. Never had he truly feared for the life of his unborn son or his mother, except for the usual nerves of a soon-to-be father. He knew Tersa would never do anything to endanger either of their lives, and this thought was a comfort Saetan had never felt when awaiting the delivery of Mephis or Peyton.
Saetan turned away from the window and his smile turned into a grimace when he spotted the letter, hastily opened and read, awaiting him on his desk. It had arrived the day before, and for once, Saetan had deliberately delayed replying; not a wise move for a man, as it was a letter from the Hourglass coven. But then again, no other man was the High Priest, and was entitled to delaying as he was. At least, that's what he told himself. But somehow the coven always gets their way anyway, he thought amusedly.
His mood deteriorated yet again as he re-scanned the elaborate writing on the page. It was a formal query requesting him to see a promising young Black Widow through her Virgin Night. Dorothea was on the warpath, cleansing Hayll of dark-jeweled potential rivals, so Saetan guessed the reason for the urgency of the letter was that this young Black Widow fell precisely into the requirements for Dorothea's targets.
He sat back on his winged chair, tapping one black-nailed finger on the letter as he considered the request yet again. He had performed the ceremony countless times before, and honored the rules of that ceremony. Although no one could force him to do this, he still felt like he had a certain obligation to fulfill, especially for a fellow member, whether apprentice or full-fledged widow, of the Hourglass.
Saetan ran a hand through his dark hair, trying to sort through the emotions that were preventing him from agreeing to the request. It just didn't feel right, at a time like this. Not when he was about to have another son, and his true heir, in his arms any day now. And what of Tersa? How would she feel about this?
Sighing, Saetan stood up and straightened his collar, then reached for the door. In the highly polished black wood surface, his gold eyes betrayed annoyance and discontentment. Many a wise men had turned fearful when faced with that gaze, even when the emotions directed through them were so mild. For a moment Saetan tried to readjust his expression, but then stopped. Nearly a year with Tersa had taught him that trying to hide his emotions from her was about as successful as Andulvar trying to appreciate intricate, non-Eyrien house furnishings; not much.
So he tore his gaze away from his own and headed downstairs towards the garden , going through the letter in his head. Oddly, the woman's race hadn't been mentioned, but Saetan shrugged and presumed it to be Hayllian.
Tersa hummed softly to herself and brushed her long, wild black hair out of her face. The wind kept blowing it all over the place, and she didn't want it tangling around a delicate rose and breaking it's stem as she bent down.
She knew Saetan was watching her work. She could, faintly but surely, feel the dark power of the red emanating from the archway up ahead at which she suspected he was leaning against. And underneath it, a cleaner, darker, fierce power which she suspected was just a glimpse of the black. But it was gone the next moment, far, far, below and out of her reach in the abyss.
"Your energy never ceases to amaze me, Lady."
Tersa smiled softly at the deep, deliciously masculine and now faintly amused voice that was Saetan's, but didn't look up.
"I'm simply pregnant, High Lord, not in any way disabled," she answered, playing along. But then her smile turned bittersweet and she straightened up, walking towards the handsome man leaning against the stone archway that opened to the garden.
She held out a deep yellow rose with a long stem. He accepted it, keeping the snake tooth beneath his nail withdrawn, and entwined his other arm around Tersa's waist, pulling her close. "What is it?" She asked softly, for she knew for certain something had to be said, which didn't want to be said.
Saetan looked at her oddly for a moment, then brushed the rose lightly against his lips, lost in thought. Tersa stood silently in his grasp. His hands stroked her back soothingly, then turned away from the garden.
"Shall we go back inside? I'll send for some refreshments," he said in a quiet, deep voice, handing her the rose and offering his arm as Tersa slowly walked into the warmth of one of the less formal, cosy receiving rooms for more well-aquainted guests.
She settled herself carefully in a comfortable armchair, and handed the rose over to the butler who set a tray of tea in front of her. Tersa wrinkled her nose at the aroma she usually loved but couldn't quite stomach at the moment, but said nothing and waited for Saetan to speak.
"I received a request from the coven a few days ago," he began unhurriedly, leaning back in an armchair opposite Tersa. The casualness of the posture contrasted sharply with the way his elegant hands were tense, giving an impression of a well-contained yet nonetheless deadly predator.
"A request to see a promising apprentice to the Hourglass through her Virgin Night," Saetan concluded and paused for the words to be considered.
Tersa's gaze betrayed no reaction, but her eyes gained a distant look. "She will be destroyed otherwise. Is that not so?"
Saetan cleared his throat. "It was... hinted at. I will accept this request out of duty, but I wanted to... inform you of it first."
"You will be saving a Sister, Prince. An acceptance out of duty it may be, but an important duty it is nonetheless."
Saetan eyes carried an understanding deeper than the literal. "Ofcourse. Well, that's... settled then."
Tersa nodded and reached for her tea. "Who is she?"
"Her name is Luthvian."
"An Eyrien name."
Saetan nodded. "Yes, but she is Hayllian, I believe. A coincidence or a distant connection to a diluted bloodline."
Tersa smiled softly, knowingly to herself. "Indeed?" She added a teaspoon of sugar and stirred. "If that is so, then you must make your decision quickly. She... she shouldn't endure anything that could have been avoided." Tersa's voice sounded hollow but the hand holding the teacup was steady.
Saetan felt the accustomed flash of anger at Tersa's past fate, but tried to contain it. "She certainly shouldn't. I'll contact the Hourglass and let them know of my acceptance. It just seemed appropriate to consult you first." He inclined his head slightly and stood up in one graceful movement.
Tersa watched him leave through tired, wise golden eyes. "Ah, Saetan..." she breathed as she leaned back and rested a hand on her belly. He had been so accommodating and careful throughout her pregnancy, so much so that often he seemed overly cautious, even prepared for tantrums and threats on her part. All of his children had been used as a form of blackmail against him, so Tersa hadn't once questioned his highly careful behaviour.
But as she closed her eyes and listened to the wind picking up it's pace outside the Hall, Tersa felt a deep sadness for the honorable man so many feared. For someone who adored women as much as Saetan did, fate had sent the worst kind of women his way in the past. He deserved so much, and yet he was so alone.
The kind of bond he would have with the daughter of his soul would be strong- very strong. But it wasn't the same as the kind of bond he longed to have with a woman who cared for him, who didn't fear his power or temper.
Tersa sighed and slowly lifted herself out of the armchair, intending to rest until dinner. She knew her presence and contribution to his happiness was a significant one, and they would both look back on it fondly. But it wasn't what he longed for, and they both knew this. Often it seemed to Tersa, especially after one of her moments of slipping through her inner landscape, that she was incapable of giving more than what she already was to Saetan. Companionship. Compassion. An heir. But nothing more. Guidance, when the Dreams became Flesh. But no more.
More often than before, Tersa would feel herself slipping further everytime she withdrew, taking a little longer to return to physical reality. The fear that should have accompanied the knowledge that she was slowly entering the Twisted Kingdom wasn't there. Because she knew the child would come safely before her mind slipped fully out of it's holds.