Fae stepped hastily aside as Ithnan strode through the halls of the UnSeelie palace, cloak billowing from his shoulders. Heads were bowed reverently to the Queen's favorite knight, but not as many as the fae who scuttled fearfully into the shadows at his approach. Ithnan gave none of them a second glance, but privately reveled in the ability to send lesser fae scrambling from his path. It was a small show of his power, yes, but a show of power nonetheless.

Being back in the palace meant far more dull activities than when he was sent on the hunt with his soldiers. He preferred it out there, on the back of a beast chasing down whatever unfortunate soul had crossed his Queen. The rush of blood in his ears, the howling in his chest, only ever silenced by lilac blood staining his skin. He was a vicious creature beneath his composed exterior.

However, being within the palace meant he had to display a certain level of civility. So long as he was here, he was bound to a certain code of conduct made only bearable by the chance to be in his Queen's presence. He was on his way, now, to stand at her side as she held court.

He turned sharply on his heel, touching his fingers to a certain stone and stepping into the quiet passageway that revealed itself when he did. It was a long, thin hall with no windows. Most fae who knew of its existence avoided it for the claustrophobic feeling it gave them, but he walked through it carelessly. Halfway down the hall there was a tiny alcove, and squeezed into it now was a broad fae with a curling mustache and ill-fitting eyes.

They bulged slightly from his head when he saw Ithnan, and he stooped himself into as much of a bow as the hall would allow him. Ithnan dismissed him with a derisive wave of his hand.

"Guzol," he said sharply. "What news do you bring me? Speak swiftly, I am wanted by the Queen."

"Of course, Master Ithnan, of course, I would never dare to keep you waiting, of course."

Ithnan openly grimaced at the groveling fae, not concerned with whether or not he saw him. Guzol's words slithered from his mouth like fat slugs, and any expression he tried to make only contorted his ugly face further. He was not a pleasant creature to behold, covered in thick, misshapen skin as he was. He was loyal, though, and obedient, so Ithnan kept him around.

"Stand straight, Guzol, for the star's sake. This hallway isn't big enough for your pathetic attempts at respect."

Guzol did as told as quickly as he could, squirming himself back up to his full height. He seemed to adjust his skin slightly, smacking his lips before speaking.

"Many moons have passed in the mortal realm, Master, yes, many, many moons." Guzol said, nodding his head. "Those you sent after the prince have become troubled, they are not sure how time is passing, or if it is at all, some say they've aged a year and a day—"

"I don't give a damn about their complaints." Ithnan snarled. "The prince. What news of the prince you fool?!"

"I was getting to that part, I promise you Master Ithnan! Now let me see, where was I… Yes, yes! Many moons have passed in the mortal realm, very many, we were sure the prince was lost forever but we continued searching as the Master asked."

"And?"

"And he revealed himself, Master."

"He's alive?!"

"He is!"

Ithnan swore colorfully, baring jagged teeth at the air. The urge to gut something—Guzol, because he was closest -was overwhelming. He resisted, he was far too old and well-mannered to be giving in to such primal urges as that, but stars did he want to.

When he had returned from his excursion to the southern border, he had made a report to the Queen, as he always did. Over the years he had perfected the art of augmenting his tales without outright lying, twisting his way around the faerie compulsion of honesty with ease. Of course, this had only ever been used to embellish his stories and make himself seem grander to impress and delight the Queen, never to deceive her.

As he had given his latest report, Ithnan had been excruciatingly aware of how close he came to lying. His words had burned his tongue and scratched jagged claws at the inside of his throat as he spoke them, to the point he almost tasted blood. The presence of the Queen had worsened the effects the half-truths had on him, but he had managed to keep his voice steady.

He and his men had attacked the rebel camp in the pitch of night, taking advantage of waning moon to strike when the prince would be unawares, his powers weakened. Ithnan had presumed that he would emerge without casualties, but the rebels had proved a more sophisticated bunch than he had anticipated. They weren't his target, though, and so not his main concern.

The prince had been driven into the nearby mountains, segregated from the swamp where he and his unsettling magic would have been at its strongest. Everything had gone according to plan. The ambush, the iron bolt that had been carefully crafted to slip through the thin slit in faerie armor. Ithnan omitted the bit about toying with the ailing prince, cleaving his arm from elbow down. Whether she wanted him dead or not, he was still the Queen's favorite child, and Ithnan didn't think she would appreciate that.

This was when everything had gone to shit. Ithnan had made the mistake of underestimating the prince's power, and his desperation. It was easy to think of him as the youngest of his family, the smallest, but he was still a child of the King and Queen of UnSeelie. Magic flowed through his veins where blood was meant to be, and until they were deep into Seelie territory, the very earth beneath his feet loved him.

An attack would have been one thing. A desperate cry to the elder fae of the land would have been valiant, maybe even worth a respectful death. However of all the things Ithnan had expected the little shit to pull, opening a gateway into the mortal realm just hadn't been one of them. It opened, swallowed the prince, and then shut again before any of the stunned attackers had had the chance to recover. By the time Ithnan was lurching forward, the gateway had already sealed itself shut.

And so came the half-truths that spilled acidic from his lips as he spoke to the Queen. Everything had been said very carefully, his white lies just subtle enough that they weren't technically lies at all. The Queen had shed a few matronly tears for her child, just three, and allowed Ithnan to pat her hand consolingly. It appeared as though his deceit had gone unnoticed.

Yet, he could not shake his paranoia. One did not attempt to deceive a faerie Queen lightly, even the most pompous mortals were hesitant to press their luck. Ithnan could have been honest, naturally, but the Queen did not take well to failure. The fear of her was augmented only by an equal fear of entering the mortal realm, which she surely would have ordered him to do if he had been truthful.

The easiest way to put this whole mess to rest was to just be sure the prince was dead. There had seemed to be little chance he would survive, crippled and bleeding in the mortal realm of all places, and yet…

Ithnan ground his teeth, flexing his powerful fingers as if they were around someone's throat. Guzol stood stock still, barely breathing, until the tension eased out of the knight's shoulders and he drew himself up slightly. Ithnan regained his composure smoothly, as if donning a mask.

"Order the scouts recalled from the mortal realm." he said.

"Recalled, Master Ithnan?"

"Yes, they've done as much as they can for now. Have them map their routes back to Sidhe and compile a map to the prince's current location, or locations."

Guzol's face twisted into something that might have resembled worry if one squinted.

"Yes Master, of course, of course, but…"

"Then," Ithnan went on, interrupting Guzol before he could continue. "I want you to assemble those under me most skilled in quickly, and quietly, eliminating their prey. If there aren't enough of them then go to the borders and contract whoever is foolish enough to go, see if there's a goblin or two who's crossed over to their realm before."

"And then, Master…?"

Ithnan cast his servant a withering gaze.

"And then you send them to the mortal realm with instructions to bring me the prince's head or die trying."

Guzol's misshapen skin paled considerably, and for a moment he stood there, opening and closing his fat mouth. Graciously, Ithnan allowed him a few moments to gape before scowling.

"NOW!" he barked, and Guzol jumped and nodded his head hastily before hurrying away.

Ithnan waited for his servant to leave the hall, smoothing both hands down the front of his tunic. He did miss his armor, perhaps he would wear it tomorrow…

Oh, he didn't blame Guzol for his fearful reaction. No fae in their right mind had any desire to set foot in the mortal realm. Their world was toxic to fae, some simply choked to death on their air before setting even a foot through the pathway they'd opened between worlds. Ithnan, surely, had no desire to go there.

Still, sacrifices must be made for the sake of the Queen, he told himself. She wanted the prince dead, and surely he would be weakened in the mortal realm, probably still hobbled by the injuries Ithnan had given him. How he had survived at all was a mystery, but it didn't matter. Soon he would be dead, and then Ithnan's half-truths would no longer be heavy with deceit and all would be well.

Ithnan straightened himself compulsively, assuring he looked as cleanly put together as possible before walking briskly down the hall. He exited through the door at the other end and turned sharply, frightening a maid with his sudden appearance, and continued his way towards the throne room.

Notes:

I think I can safely call this the midway point of the first arc. Thank you everyone for sticking with me, I hope you'll follow me going forward as well.