The newborn god's flanks writhed and heaved as the magical energy within it rebelled. Virulent blue ooze gushed from ugly gashes on its leathery hide, and it trembled and howled, full of fury and pain. It was dying.

The Overlord's minions were flinging themselves on it, cackling, sensing that it was near the last of its strength. Myriad eyes turned on bristling stalks, tracking the darting shapes helplessly, full of dumb animal hunger. It stopped, vomiting up bright flecks of magic and masonry, brought up a bewildered-looking unicorn. His reds hit it hard, and the unicorn rose with a terrible cry, staggered flaming towards him, maddened.

His axe flashed down, cleaving the proud head from its neck, and it tumbled, crushed beneath the bulk of the flailing god. The Devourer was lashing out at random, now, tendrils flailing, minions clinging to its flanks. It wailed, a horrible, ear-piercing sound, and its sides heaved as it began to retch again.

Florian fell from its puckered maw with a wet squelch, picked himself up slowly, looking dazed. The Overlord leaped down beside him, and the elf turned to face him, his eyes wide and mad behind the mask.

"This is what I was meant to be!" Florian cried, blazing with stolen might. "All shall bow before me!"

He raised his hands, his veins burning bright with power. He would crush the barbarian lord, he thought, he would steal his magic, he would rise from his cocoon to the realm of the gods. The world would tremble, and at last, they would all adore him, and fear him.

The Overlord was raising his hand as if to ward him off. Florian sneered behind the mask, magic crackling over his skin. The witch boy was right to cower, he thought, he was right to fear him-

Power lashed out like a whip, searing him to his core. He felt his back arch, his bones warping, as the Overlord reached out to him, into him, and drained him to a husk. He fell, startled, horrified.

"No," he gasped. "No, it can't be!"

He reached out to the magic that had sheltered him, longing to be in its embrace again. He felt its power flowing into him, even stronger than before, felt his feet leave the ground. He laughed aloud.

"This is it!" He cried. "My ascension! I'm being taken up! I will embrace the world!"

Nothing could stop him now, he thought, giddy, staring at the approaching stars. He was going to join the gods! He was going to be one of them! And then he would rule, and remake the world as he saw fit. He would take every last bit of magic for himself, and he would never be powerless, never again-

His heart went first, flashed into brilliant blue fire. Lightning crackled through his veins as the god's magic filled him, spilling out of his mouth, his eyes, his every cell. The magic tore him apart, bursting free in a torrent of raw, wild power.

Viscous ooze fell in a brief, stinking rain. The Overlord wiped at his cloak, annoyed. He was never, he thought, going to get all the bits of Solarius out of all the various nooks and crannies in his armor.

He heard a soft step on the stones behind him, felt the chill touch of the Sentinels. He turned, eyes narrowed. Rose inclined her head to him, formal.

"And so it has ended," she said. "The cycle starts afresh."

The words had the air of ritual to them, carried the faintest ring of power. He watched her, wondering how many secrets she was keeping from him, if he could trust her to share them.

Rose picked her way gingerly over the courtyard, skirts held high.

"I hope you don't expect me to clean this up," she said, trying for humor. "Men...can't destroy without getting everything all messy!"

"Funny." He wiped ichor off his axe onto a minion. "The way I see it, I was the one cleaning up your mess."

She stopped short, let her skirts fall, staring up at him. He looked down at her, unreadable.

"Are you hurt?" she asked him at last.

He made a low, irritated noise.

"What do you care?" he snapped.

"I'm your mother!"

He turned his back on her and walked away without a second glance, heading for the palace. After a moment of shock, she scrambled after him in an undignified hurry.

"Thorn!" she cried. "Wait, please!"

He didn't look back.

"Thorn?" she said again.

A pair of minions threw the palace doors open for him, saluting. He stormed through with a crash of armor, stalked into the throne room.

"Listen to me, will you? Son?"

Solarius' golden throne sat atop a marble dais, glittering with jewels, crested in brilliant rays of stylized sunlight. It was magnificent, and much too small for him. He shattered it with a few strong strokes, smashing gold and white marble, set the minions to work building a makeshift throne out of the wreckage.

"Son?" Rose said softly, her voice uncertain.

He sprawled on the throne, gestured to a minion.

"Bring my Mistresses," he growled. "I want to show them this."

The minion saluted cheerfully and scampered away. They stared at each other, the throne room silent but for the crackle of flames and the faint cries of the wounded.

Rose cleared her throat.

"You'll want to put that fire out," she said at last. "No use conquering a city, if you're just going to burn it down."

He shrugged, unconcerned.

Rose hesitated.

"I'll...I'll go take care of it," she said at last.

She swept away. He glared after her, conflicted. Part of him, a very small and childish part, wanted her approval, wanted her to tell him she was proud. The other part, though, still wanted nothing more than to cleave her in two. He set the axe carefully aside and sighed. He needed her, he thought, weary, at least for now. She knew how the Empire worked. And she was right. He wanted to keep it.

The doors creaked open, and his Mistresses joined him in the palace. Juno swept in like she owned the place, her hips swaying as she looked around smugly, no doubt already planning on how to redecorate. Fay was calm and collected, only glanced about once with idle curiosity. Kelda was trying very, very hard to look unimpressed.

"So this is the Empire, huh?" she said. "I think I like the Netherworld better."

"Yes, well, rats really do belong underground," Juno said coolly.

Kelda ignored her, for once, hurrying to his side. She perched next to him on the rubble, looking about.

"You did it," she said. "I mean, I always thought you would, but..." A note of awe crept into her voice. "I have to admit. This place is really something."

She felt a sudden chill and turned, her eyes narrowing. The hooded woman stood at the end of the throne room, flanked by a quartet of Sentinels. Kelda tensed, her hand going to the knife on her belt.

"Witch boy," she muttered.

He touched her hand.

"It's okay," he murmured. "She's on our side, I think. Mostly."

"I don't trust her," she growled.

"Neither do I," he said, sounding amused.

"Who is that spooky bitch, anyhow?"

"My mother."

She stared at him, startled, and he laughed. Rose walked to his makeshift throne, pulling back her hood.

"'Witch boy'?" she asked, and then gave the red-haired girl a wry look. "And 'spooky bitch'? Really."

The peasant just sat back, frowning thunderously at her. Rose sighed.

"The fire brigades are working as we speak," she said, and hesitated. "Thorn."

He was ignoring her, smiling at one of the women with him- the former Queen Fay, Rose realized with a start. She, and all her agents, had thought the elven Queen had died when the Last Sanctuary fell. Evidently, she'd been wrong about that, as well.

"Thorn!" she snapped, louder.

He gave her a quizzical look.

"Can I speak with you?" she asked him. "Alone?"

"I have nothing more to say to you, unless it concerns the business of running the Empire," he said, his voice hard. He kissed Juno's hand, and the girl simpered. Rose suppressed a roll of her eyes. "And I don't care about anything you have to say, either."

"Please," she said.

Something in her voice made him look up. He glanced at his Mistresses, nodded towards the door.

"Leave us," he said, and then, when the red-headed girl made an irritated noise. "Please."

Rose arced an eyebrow at that, surprised. The other Mistresses filed out immediately, but the red-haired girl laid a hand on his shoulder, said something too soft for Rose to hear. Her son reached up and squeezed her hand. She saw the way they looked at each other and frowned, reevaluating the peasant girl.

"Go," she heard him say. "I'll be alright."

The girl left the room, with one last suspicious glare at Rose.

"Thorn," Rose said softly, crossing to him. "Let me see your face. Please."

He glanced at her, his eyes narrowed.

"Why do you keep calling me that that?" he snapped.

"Calling you what?"

"'Thorn'."

She stopped, shocked, put a hand to her chest.

"It's...it's your name," she said at last. "You...you've forgotten it."

"Huh." He leaned back, considering her. "'Thorn', hmm?"

"Yes."

"How stupid."

She felt herself tense.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's just so...so very fucking twee. Rose and 'Thorn', was it? I think I like 'witch boy' better."

"Surely you're joking."

"Did you name me that because I was the 'thorn' in your side, then?" He laughed, low and harsh. "Is that why you were so quick to get rid of me?"

She stared at him, shocked.

"I didn't want to get rid of you," she protested. "I told you, I was trying to protect you!"

"By leaving me out to starve in the cold?"

"To- to starve?" Rose frowned. "Thorn- son- I didn't leave you there with nothing. There was a woman in Nordberg, she was supposed to look after you. Leialyn, Leven, something like that-"

"Lleweyn?"

"Yes, that's the one."

"Huh. Well, you must not have paid her enough, then, because-"

"I left you with enough money to buy a small villa!" Rose stopped short, staring at him. "But of course, you were a child. And you didn't know that, did you? And she never told you." She felt her jaw tighten, angry. "How could she? I trusted her to take care of you!"

Yet another miscalculation, she thought, furious with herself. She should have gone back to check on him- she should have found a way to elude Florian and Marius' watchful eyes, should have made sure her son was well cared for.

"It doesn't matter." Thorn shrugged, his eyes hard and cruel. "She was just a stupid old woman, after all. She doesn't matter."

Rose took a step back, feeling as if she'd been slapped.

"I was trying to save you," she gasped, her voice breaking. "That's why I sent you there!"

"Oh, so that's why you abandoned me in a shitty little town in the frozen ass-end of nowhere, where I-"

"Do you know how many attempts there were on my life when I was carrying you?" Rose snapped.

He fell silent.

"In the last month before you were born, at least three different people tried to kill me. They were frightened, you see...they knew my child could grow up to be an Overlord. I didn't want that for you."

"You didn't want me to be powerful, to be a ruler, to-"

"I didn't want you to be hated!" Rose cried, her eyes growing wet. "What mother would ever want that for her son?"

For once, he had no reply. She stared up at him, her eyes bright.

"Please," she said again. "Please, let me see your face. I want to know what you look like."

He hesitated for a long moment, and then he unbuckled the helmet, set it down on the rubble at his feet. Rose stared at him, her face wet.

"Oh," she whispered, coming closer. "Oh, oh gods. You look so much like your father."

"What was he like?" he asked her, so quietly she could hardly hear him.

"He was noble, in his own way. He was very brave...sometimes, stupidly, stubbornly brave. He was clever. He was very strong, and sometimes terrible...but to me, at least, if to nobody else, he was...he was kind." She stopped herself, a flush in her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I could go on for hours, but we don't really have the time, right now."

"Did you love him?" he asked her.

"Oh, yes." She bowed her head, remembering. "More than anything, until you came along."

He studied her, frowning. He wasn't sure, he thought, whether or not to trust her, but he needed her help, whether he liked it or not.

"I need some things from you," he said, changing the subject.

"Yes, of course," she said, the eagerness painfully apparent in her voice. "How can I help you?"

"I'll need a thorough accounting of the treasury here, as well as the armory. I want to know how many siege towers we have, how many ballistas, how many catapults. How many soldiers and citizens you think might be loyal to me, and how many still loyal to Solarius."

"Of course."

"I'll also need any information you have on foreign powers that might be hostile to the Empire." He paused. "If you know that, that is."

Rose smiled at him, her eyes sparkling.

"I've not been idle, son. My spies can give you all the information you need, and more. But we have little to fear from other nations. The Empire either crushed them all or bought them out years ago."

"Perhaps."

"I can also give you the names of the merchant guild leaders, influential senators, and other people who can ease your transition into power."

"I'm already in power."

"Yes, but you want to hold that throne you've conquered, don't you? I'll get you lists, and charts, and maps." Rose paced, warming to the task. "Oh, this will be such fun!"

"I can hardly wait," he said wearily.

Rose stopped, looking closer at him.

"You look exhausted," she said. "It's late. I can manage here. Get some rest. We'll have a lot to do, tomorrow."

She took a step towards him, and her hand moved briefly towards him...and then she sighed at the look on his face and dropped her hand, turned and swept out of the throne room with her Sentinels.

He passed a hand over his face, tired beyond measure.

"Kelda," he said. "I can hear you breathing."

She stepped out from behind a pillar.

"I thought I asked you to leave," he said, trying, and failing, to sound stern.

She shrugged.

"Sorry, I guess I must have misheard you. I heard 'Kelda, stay behind and keep an eye on my spooky mom in case she tries anything'."

"I'm pretty sure I didn't say all that."

"Pretty sure that's what I heard."

She grinned at him, cheeky, slipped onto his lap. He shook his head at her, amused.

"What would you have done, anyways? Against four Sentinels?"

"Slit her throat, probably," she replied promptly. "She seems to be the one controlling them, mostly."

He stared at her, knowing he should feel aghast, couldn't quite bring himself to try. Kelda ducked her head, suddenly embarrassed.

"Sorry," she said. "I know she's your mother and all, and I probably shouldn't say that kind of thing."

"It's fine." He shrugged. "I don't think I'd care if you killed her."

"You're still angry at her, aren't you?"

"Of course I am," he snapped.

Kelda hesitated.

"She really loves him, you know," she said. "Your father. She still loves him." She studied him for a moment, brow furrowed. "I know how she feels, I think. If anything ever happened to you-"

He cut her off with a kiss, felt her respond, her lips warm.

"Nothing's going to happen to me," he said confidently.

"It better not," she said, and then she snuggled up against him, gave him a look that made his blood burn hotter. "Let's go home, witch boy."

-x-

Kelda had insisted on a wash, as soon as they got back to the Netherworld. He'd laughed at her and tried to sweep her off her feet, but she'd smacked him hard enough to let him know she meant business, and then she'd dragged him off to the baths.

Now she was doing something to his shoulders that felt amazing. He sat back with a tired sigh, leaning his head against her thigh. Her hands started to rake through his hair, coaxing out tangles.

"Gods above," he heard her say, sounding amused. "And they call me scruffy. Did you have a bird nesting here or something?"

"Just had the helmet on all day. There might be bits of Solarius in there still, too." He yawned, exhausted. "Pretty sure I even got bits of him in my mouth, even."

"Hey, now, don't fall asleep on me here, you're too big for me to carry you back to bed!"

"Mmm."

He opened his eyes a fraction as he heard her splash into the pool next to him, felt her hands sliding up his thighs.

"Come on," she teased him. "You can't be that tired. What did you do today, anyway? Conquer an Empire or something?"

She sat on his lap, straddling him, reached down between his legs, and he found he wasn't so tired, after all.

"Ha!" she exclaimed. "Thought so." She kissed the corner of his jaw, smirking, slipped out of the water. "Come on, you. Let's go to bed."

He followed her without another word, out of the baths and through the red curtain. She pushed him down to the bed and looked down at him, her eyes soft.

"Should I call you 'Emperor' now?" she asked him, her voice teasing.

He smiled up at her, pulling her closer.

"'Witch boy' suits me fine," he said, and then he snapped his fingers, remembering. "Oh! I brought you something."

He reached down and plucked something from the pile of treasure scattered carelessly in the corner, handed her a golden mask.

"I'm afraid Solarius' head sort of...exploded," he said. "But we found his mask, if that will do."

"Oh, it's perfect," Kelda breathed. "It will look just right above our bed with all the other trophies, don't you think?"

"Whatever you like."

And then, to his surprise, she put the mask on, her eyes dancing at him from behind the gilded visage.

"What do you think?" She asked him. "Does it suit me?"

"Oh, gods. Kelda, take that off."

"Why?" She wiggled her hips teasingly. "This doesn't turn you on?"

"Stop. Oh gods, stop, please."

"You've been a very naughty Overlord, conquering my kingdom like that," she said, in a distressingly good imitation of Florian's nasal whine. "So now I'm going to have to-"

"Goodnight," he said, pushing her off. "I'm going to sleep."

She laughed, pulled the mask off.

"Are you done?" he asked her dryly.

"I could wear it on special occasions, maybe," she said wickedly. "To spice things up-"

"I'm going to melt that thing."

"Nooooooo!" she protested. "It'll look so pretty up next to the Spider Queen! I promise I'll stop."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

He reached for her, and she pulled the mask down.

"I lied," she said.

"Gods damn it, Kelda!"

"Sorry, sorry!" She set the mask aside, grinning. "The look on your face, though!"

"Brat."

"Arsehole," she said fondly, drew him closer, kissing his neck.

He made a low, quiet sound, his hands settling on her hips. She pressed closer, felt the heat of his skin, the strong beat of his heart, as his breathing slowed.

"Witch boy?" she asked. "Are you asleep already?"

"Mmm," he mumbled.

"I've got something to tell you," she said, thinking of the Ruborian desert.

"Mmm," he said again, pulling her closer, one hand sliding absently over her ass.

Kelda smiled and nestled against him, her own eyes drifting closed. It could wait, she thought, until the morning.