[ Wednesday ]

It is surely ironic, Wednesday thinks, that her desire to consume should consume her so. Hunger pervades her thoughts; most times it is the only thing she can think of. She uses what powers remains at her disposal to prevent herself from growing any larger, and to bring sustenance to her path; applying it to anything else is... impossible. Unthinkable.

The only one who stands by her - flies alongside her a safe distance away, Wednesday amends with no small amount of bitterness - is her faithful Dawn. Perhaps Noon and Dusk would have as well, if she hadn't-

No; she will not think of that. She was betrayed, and her loyal Denizens paid the price. If only she could hold on to this anger, if only it could sustain her through her hunger. The hunger that she can no longer control, because Saturday stabbed her in the back, because she wished to find a Rightful Heir and fulfill the Will.

And now... now Dawn tells her that her traitorous fellows have decided to raise a Rightful Heir. It tastes bitter, this double betrayal.

"Arthur is arriving tomorrow, mistress," Dawn says. "He is so small. I can carry him out to see you."

Is that wise, Wednesday signals. She knows that even if Dawn, her most trusted servant, were in her path she would not be able to turn aside, unless there was more food to be had elsewhere in her immediate vicinity.

She might as well be a mindless beast, for all the control she has over... anything.

Dawn barely hesitates, but the pause is perceptible nonetheless. "You should see him, and he you, mistress. Your wishes are closer to realization than ever! Arthur will be grown in a few short years, and you can give the Third Key to him then."

This is true, Wednesday says. It will likely be the end of her, the release of her Trusteeship; but she does not tell Dawn this. Her constant hunger is like an ache in her gut that will not be assuaged no matter how she eats - but of late she has become aware of another, sharper pain. She has consumed Nothing as well - it is inevitable, with how the Border Sea increasingly impinges upon the Void. The Nothing, in turn, eats away at her innards. The only reason she yet lives, she suspects, is because she is devoting her power to maintaining her current form. Or perhaps because she has yet to give the Key up: it cannot be taken by force, nor from a corpse.

Either way, without the Key to sustain her, Wednesday will succumb to the Nothing and cease existing.

"I will bring him tomorrow, in the early evening," Dawn says. She looks so pleased. How can Wednesday tell her how this will inevitably end?

I will be in this area, Wednesday replies. I will eat as much as possible in the meantime. She does not bother specifying why; Dawn needs no clarification in any case.

"Thank you, mistress. I would check on the preparations for Arthur's arrival, by your leave."

Very good, Dawn.

She watches Dawn fly away, until her Time disappears from even her enhanced sight. It is an indulgence, diverting some of her power to improve her eyesight. Her stomach twists in pain; hunger and Nothing. She turns, drawing on the Third Key to concentrate the fish in her path, and swims away.

Dawn hangs back further than usual, her arms wrapped around a small bundle: the baby Heir, Arthur.

"Arthur," Dawn says, croons really; Wednesday wonders whether he understands, "this is my mistress, the Duchess of the Border Sea: Lady Wednesday."

Arthur peers down at Wednesday; his eyes are a pale blue, and seem unnaturally large in his small face. He gurgles, shifting in Dawn's arms; a wide, toothless grin threatens to split his face.

Wednesday is quite certain that he does not understand the situation - who would be happy to see her, to witness what she has become?

And yet. Arthur smiles down at her, and Wednesday feels something like hope.