Okay, this one requires a little explanation. As you may be able to tell by the style of the writing, I wrote this one a while ago! Last august, in fact. So I'm actually not quite sure if I should upload this, because the way I characterize both Mindfang and the Summoner have changed since then. However, the event that occurs here is still canon in this story, so I guess I should include this. Anyways. Enjoy! If you don't want to read this one (it is a little bit off...) I can include a summary next chapter.

Word count: 1,691

"Mindfang!"

Mindfang pretended she didn't hear her name. Hell, it wasn't even her real name. She pretended she was just another troll, buying food and supplies. The stall owner gave her a weird look when she asked to buy so much stuff. She glared at him, daring him to question her. Unfortunately, he did. "What's all this for?"

It was easier to ease his suspicions than to do the same with the threshecutioners she would be sure to meet if she didn't. "High-maintenance lusus." And that was all she had to say. Within minutes, she was out and walking down the street again. She was actually buying supplies for the rebellion that her matesprit was gathering, and subtly spreading word of a rally that would occur in three days time.

Normally, the Summoner wanted her at his side at all times, if only because she was a highly recognizable criminal. But now she kept her hood up, discreetly searching the sea of trolls for the person who had called her name.

The shout came again. "Mindfang!" It was a male's voice, she decided, and one that was vaguely familiar. Still she ignored it, moving her cerulean gaze across the alleys, searching for a way to get underground. That was where the Summoner and his gang was camping out tonight, and they needed the supplies she had.

"Marquise!"

God, this one was very stubborn. Mindfang sped up her pace, but was careful not to go too fast.

The voice shouted, "Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!"

Like everyone else, Mindfang turned. She recognized the troll chasing her immediately; he was a blueblood a shade lower on the hemospectrum than her. He had been her first mate back when she'd been a pirate. Her eyes widened. No wonder he knew her by her alias! The ceruleanblood lingered momentarily. She couldn't talk to him here, but she couldn't very well leave him screaming her name in such a busy street.

Her eyes met his and he glared at her, furious at being ignored. Thinking quickly, she pressed a kiss to her first two fingers and blew it at him, smirking flirtatiously. He recognized the signal and fell silent, melting into the crowds, abruptly invisible after making such a spectacle of himself.

Mindfang sighed and, hoisting the bag of supplies further over her shoulder, darted into an alley. It wasn't long before he found her clambering over a wall to get to a manhole, burdened as she was with the supplies. He said sarcastically, "Who'd have ever thought I'd find you this far inland."

She called him something incredibly inappropriate and flipped a specific finger up at him. He merely laughed and leaped down from the roof he was standing on, landing on the ground just as she hopped down next to the manhole. He was tall for a troll, his wild black hair braided out of his face. His horns were particularly long, although nowhere near as large as her Summoner's. They both went straight up before hooking inwards, and he had bits of jewelry on the right one. "I thought you were dead," he told her.

"I was very certain you were dead," she retorted, "but this is a horrible place to talk, Denmer." She pulled the cover of the manhole up and threw it aside unceremoniously.

He nodded. "That it is, Marquise. Is that why you're trying to jump into the sewers?" She swore at him again as she tossed the supplies down the manhole. He rolled his eyes. "Very mature, Marquise."

Mindfang climbed down after the supplies, calling up to him, "Get down here!"

"Aye-aye, captain."

It was strange, wandering through the twisting labyrinth that was the sewage system. Especially with Denmer. Mindfang didn't let it show, but his reappearance in her life had shocked her. She had mourned the loss of him and the rest of her crew, although of course she pretended that she hadn't cared. Now, they were both acting as if no time had passed since she had been the Pirate Queen and they'd spent their time pulling off daring heists and stupid threats together.

He asked conversationally, "What're you doing here, Mindfang? I never thought I'd see you this far from the sea."

"I've found something new," she snapped.

Denmer didn't say anything for a while. And then he said bluntly, "You joined that rebellion."

Mindfang's eyes widened, and she was glad that he was behind her and couldn't see her expression. Damn. She'd forgotten how she hated how well he knew her. "Not just joined, Denmer," she cooed, "I'm helping lead it."

Fingers wrapped around her free hand and she hissed. Nobody touched her without her permission. Denmer let go readily enough; so he did remember her rages. He still spoke, however. "Mindfang, you couldn't care less about how the highbloods treat the lowbloods."

She turned to meet his gaze angrily. "Shut up, Denmer."

Confusion was clear in his familiar blue eyes, but he shrugged. "You've changed, Mindfang. I don't know if I like it."

Not sure if she was more insulted or confused, Mindfang turned and continued walking. It wasn't long before she heard voices and saw the light of a fire. She slowly put down the supplies just before she rounded the corner. Drawing her sword silently, she motioned for Denmer to stay. Despite the fact that she was no longer his captain, he still obeyed her unquestioningly, drawing his own sword (straighter and slimmer than her own) and standing guard over the supplies. As quickly as she could, Mindfang darted over the thick sewage water and around the corner. They heard the sound of her boots in the water, but they still reacted too late. She had her blade against the lead troll's neck in mere seconds. His back was too her, and she felt him stiffen. The other trolls let out yells of shock and leaped to their feet, but none dared attack her. The troll she was holding chuckled, and his faerie-like wings fluttered, caressing her face. "It's good to see you, too."

Mindfang stepped back and sheathed her sword, grinning at her matesprit and the rest of the gang. "Sloppy," she declared, "I could've killed all of you in six seconds flat, and then where would the rebellion be?"

The Summoner turned, his bronze eyes lighting up when he saw her. He caressed her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. It was a chaste kiss, quick and brief. Not at all how Mindfang preferred them. He replied, "And yet nobody else would be able to get this far into the sewers."

She wrinkled her nose. The other trolls went back to their work, by now used to their leaders' flirting. "I don't see why anybody would want to. It smells like shit." She grabbed one of his horns — his eyes widened — and used it to bring his face down to hers. Their lips met and her eyes closed. She ran her tongue along his lower lip and one of his hands moved behind her back while the other tangled itself in her hair. Her own hands lingers on his cheeks and his shoulders. As she deepened their kiss, he pulled her flush against him, his wings wrapping around them both like a cocoon, lingering tantalizingly close and yet far enough that she could only sense them, not feel them.

"Oh. That certainly explains why you're leading a rebellion."

Mindfang broke the kiss and tilted her head around to glare at Denmer. "Shut up!"

The Summoner's arms tightened around her, and she felt his arm drop to his belt where he kept his dagger for times when it was impractical to use his lance.

Denmer rolled his eyes. "Really, Mindfang? A bronzeblood?"

She growled under her breath. "You're lucky I lost my dice in the wreck!"

The Summoner cleared his throat, and she realized that the rest of their gang had drawn their weapons.

"It's fine." She stepped out of the Summoner's arms. "He's an old friend."

The Summoner let her go, knowing full well how she hated to be contained. Hell, she hated being underground. She was edgy enough as it was without having to deal with friends she'd long thought dead.

"Denmer, this is the Summoner. You may have heard of him. Summoner, this is Denmer."

Denmer fell into his place behind her, his shrewd blue eyes searching the Summoner's bronze ones. Mindfang rolled her eye and jerked her hands at the other trolls. "Get back to work!"

The Summoner opened his mouth and she added, "The supplies are around the corner. Denmer will fetch them." The other blueblood opened his mouth to protest but she shot him a poisonous glare. He glared back but went to do as he was told.

As soon as he had gone, Mindfang sat down next to the fire they had lit for seeing. Unfortunately, that also meant it was very smoky, as there was no ventilation. "Aranea—" began the Summoner.

She caught his hand — huge in her slender ones — and pressed her lips to the underside of his wrist. "Don't worry, love," she said firmly, "Denmer is a friend. He was my first mate." At his narrowed eyes, she added, "My second-in-command on the ship."

The Summoner immediately relaxed. "Okay. That's good." His bronze eyes latched onto her cerulean one. "You sure he's trustworthy?"

She nodded. "I trusted him with my life." Of course, that hadn't meant much at the time, because she'd known exactly when she would die and that there had been no way she was going to die during those times.

The Summoner slung an arm around her shoulders, and both of them stared into the fire. "I'm trusting you, Aranea."

"I know." The last word stuck to the roof of her mouth and refused to slip out. Rufioh.