A/N: SO! This will be the second-to-last update from me. I'm sorry to curtail so soon, I was hoping to continue. But I feel like I've finally moved on from "Blood Ties", so I'll be focussing on other fictions, other stories, and college work. I'm likely to return, but then again, I may not. We'll have to see. Enjoy in the meantime ;) ~ Mika

Twenty-seven years before "Deny Thy Father..."

Nuala Malesh went to the annual Haven ball alone, black eyes – the eyes of a clairvoyant – forever scanning the crowds. She was looking for someone; someone whom she knew the name and description of. Since adolescence, he had appeared in her visions many times; the father of her six children, the love of her life and much more.

Eraux Ghosten was standing in full Spargan uniform, alone and solitary, one of many soldiers on bodyguard duty that night, as ordered by Sig. Already thirty years of age, he was born, grew up and trained in Spargus. Devoting most of his life to combat and fighting, he had time for neither romance nor to wander where his Wastelander father disappeared to many years ago, when he was six months old.

The second he saw the much younger clairvoyant, however, everything changed. Her black eyes softly gazed upon him, but the effect was much the same as a bullet to the heart. He couldn't unlock his eyes from hers as she drew closer to him, the noise of the party fading out around him the closer she got.

She reached him, reaching up and laying one hand on his cheek. His heart stopped. Nothing was said between the two for a very long time, their expressions still and neutral. He wanted to cup her face – not conventionally beautiful, but beautiful in the manner of which he couldn't place his finger on. Her wavy black hair tumbled around her shoulders, her paper-white skin glowing under the cream-coloured lights.

"I've dreamt about you," she said, her voice so low Eraux almost didn't catch it. "It's you I've...been destined to meet,"

Eraux licked his lips, wondering what to say. He was a practical person, cynical and thus unversed in matters of the soul and destiny.

"You are Eraux Ghosten? Half-Wastelander, half-Spargan, father unknown, unnamed, unspoken of?"

A chill ran up his spine, wondering how she knew him; how she knew of him. His own violet eyes scanned the room, wondering if anyone was watching.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied formally. "That would be me."

A smile crossed the younger woman's face, transforming it entirely. Eraux felt his heart lift and, hesitantly, he lifted a gloved hand and tentatively placed it on her cheek. Relief fell over him when she tilted her head towards it, eyes closing, the smile remaining on her face.

He cleared his throat, noticing how dried up it had become. "What...what's your name?"

"Nuala," she answered, voice like a clear river in the middle of the Wasteland. "Nuala Malesh. You and I have something in common when we were born,"

He frowned. "What?"

"We neither of us know our fathers," she replied, taking his hand. "I did not know mine. You did not know yours..."

"How...do you know so much about me?"

She smiled, once again locking eyes with him. "I know everything about you, Eraux Ghosten. Your past, your future..." She spread her hands open. "I'm a clairvoyant. It is not through choice but birth that I have these powers."

You did not know your father. I did not know mine.

Eraux nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his armour. Someone called his name and he turned his head, temporarily diverting his attention. When he turned back, the strange young woman was gone. He looked all over the room from his designated post for her, but she had vanished.

In his hand, however, was a small, soft, curly black feather.

In years to come, he would keep this whenever he had to leave her and their family of five girls. It always brought him home, except once. And in that time of disappearance, she indeed bore a son who would not know his father.

...And our grandson will not know his father...

~x~

Years later

"So...that's how you and Dad met?" Deimin frowned from his position on the floor. "Kinda creepy if you think about it, especially the bit about me not knowing him,"

"Well, I think it's hella romantic," his best friend shot back next to him. "Sounds amazing, actually. You knew right there he was the one..."

"Nelly, that's not like you be romantic!" Deimin chided jokingly, eyes crinkling in humour, even as Nelyn punched him on the arm. He retaliated with a feeble punch back, she tackled him, and before long they were play-fighting on the floor, a clear disguise – or exorcism – of sexual tension so thick one could Peacemaker it and it would still be intact.

Chuckling as she got up, Nuala quietly moved what hard furniture she could out the way of the play fighting friends and moved off to another room entirely. She was glad she had left out the part about Deimin's son not knowing his father. Her son didn't need that kind of heartbreak just yet; he was only sixteen.

Sixteen.

She sighed, a small smile gracing her features.

How fast that's gone.