Champion 3

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*~*~*~*

When you wanted information, the best place in any kingdom to find it was the library in the holy academy.  When you didn't have a disciple of Yorn to escort you through a library large enough to contain a copy of every book that had ever been written, the second best place was the royal library.

This was where Lillian was, deeply ensconced in the Elyia Royal Library, poring over medical texts from the last three centuries, written by disciples of Clio and disciples of Yorn alike.  Only in the medical field were texts written by disciples of Yorn more interesting than texts written by disciples of either Lady or any of the Sisters.  Lillian's eyes were swimming, and her head ached.

Unfortunately, she'd yet to find what she was looking for.  Well, that wasn't completely accurate.  There was a lot of information about religious accidents.  Most were the normal sort: a disciple not noticing, or ignoring the fact that she no longer bore her tattoos of office and suffering injury for it, misuse of religious magic, and anything caused by the mixing of secular and religious magic.

But the recent trend was nothing like that.  She had green-wristed disciples of Runal with vegetables growing through them and somehow mesmerizing people, disciples of Yorn getting hurt, disciples of Clio dying of illness and injury.  This was not normal, and it was frightening, not only for the disciples who could no longer depend on their magic, but for the general populace, who could not come to the disciples in times of trouble.

The only thing Lillian could think was that there had to be some sort of precedence for this, maybe during the Great War, but she couldn't find any understandable answer.  Signs seemed to point to a time in history when the Ladies and Sisters abandoned humanity, but that made no sense.  They depended on humanity.  Collective faith gave them their power, and their power ensured faith.  That was how it worked.

Lillian naturally pursued that line anyway, just in case it lead her anywhere, but all she could find was a fairytale derived from an atrociously-mutilated journal detailing the battle of unnamed women known only as the "Disciple" and the "Champion" against a villain known as the "Untouched."  Everyone knew the fairytale about the untouched, whose impossible birth set them against the holy women who looked over the planet of Johse.

The journal revealed that the untouched supposedly had a much closer relationship with the disciple and champion than the fairytale intimated, but the condition of the tale, with large chunks missing at critical junctures, was the reason the personal journals making up a large portion of the holy library were in a constant state of being copied and recopied.  Lillian very seriously considered throwing the book.  It would do absolutely no good, but it would make her feel better about having discovered nothing usable.

She didn't do that, but she did slam the book shut, roughly grabbing the other books scattered over the table she'd been sitting at all morning, and all day the last five days.  She needed a break, she decided as she found herself slamming books into ever-growing piles.  She would give a lot to have the white line across her forehead that would allow her access to the holy library, or at least someone who had the line, but anyone who might escort her was either at the Hilean ceremony, providing their protection and assistance, or too far from the royal palace to be much immediate help.

"Wow, it's not even midday and you're already angry at the books.  What did they do to you?"

Lillian looked up at the sound of Maya's incredulous voice, and her day was already better, if a bit more confusing.  Lillian and Maya, in spite of both working on the royal grounds, rarely saw each other during the day, and even when they did, Maya was always in her armor, because taking it off and putting it back on again was far too much of a hassle.

Seeing Maya in a plain shirt and serviceable pants, sword belt rakishly thrown over her shoulder, was an unexpected delight for Lillian.

"Maya!  What are you doing here?  Don't you have trainees to terrorize?"  There was a book on the other side of the table, just beyond Lillian's fingertips, and Maya pushed the heavy tome closer with a fond chuckle.

"Not for the rest of the day.  Ritual, remember?"

Oh, the Hileans were working up some magic outside, weren't they?  Breathing on the training grounds probably felt like breathing oatmeal.  But then again, Maya was a bit more resilient than Lillian, and Jettas' disciples had to be tougher in general, so Lillian's brow furrowed, "I figured you'd just work through it."

Maya shrugged, "I can handle it, but the girls were having a lot of trouble.  Besides, aren't you at all curious what they're up to over there?"

"Not particularly."

Maya arched a brow at Lillian and smirked, "You are lying."

Lillian was nosy by nature, curious about most things, and yes, she was totally lying.  She laughed in response to Maya's declaration, making neat piles of her books, "I am completely lying, being that I am terribly jealous you get to go and I don't."

"Who says you don't get to go?"

Lillian paused midmotion, then squinted at Maya, "What did you do?"

"Besides scaring Shannon into growing flowers?"

"Dammit, Denice told her that spell wasn't going to come out right, no matter how she mixed it."

"That's roughly what Denice told me, too."

If Maya had been to the medical wing in search of Lillian, and spoken to Denice, Denice might have given Lillian leave to go see the ritual.  Lillian pushed the table away from her heavy, comfortable chair and slid her finger up her belt as she got up, moving closer to the gleeful Maya.

"...what else did Denice tell you?"

"That you were investigating the recent rash of religious accidents?"

"Maya!"

Maya laughed and threw an arm about Lillian's shoulder, pulling her along, "She said she wants you to take notes."  Lillian groaned deeply, flopping into the still-laughing Maya.  The only thing Lillian hated more than reading notes written by those who served her Sister were writing them herself.  So much detail.  Down to color, every subtle move.  She'd barely get to watch the ceremony for writing.

"I hate you both."

"That's a lie."

"It is not!"

"That's a lie, too."

By the time the pair reached the library doors, Lillian was throwing her arms everywhere, dramatically flopping all over Maya as the smaller woman laughingly pulled her along, "Yes, it's lies!  Lies, lies, all of it!  I don't hate you or Denice, but oh my god, note-taking!  Mayaaa!"

Ok, she was whining now, but Maya was laughing at her, only half sympathetically, "I know, I know, notes are terrible and distressing and frustrating."

"And I don't wanna!"

"And you don't wanna," sniggered Maya, still pulling Lillian down the halls, heading for the amphitheater where the Hileans were bound to be working their magic.

"You don't sound very sympathetic," complained Lillian, opening the door so that Maya could pull her through it.

"I am very sympathetic to your made-up problem and overdramatic whining."  Lillian didn't even have to see Maya's blue hair go muddy, like dye washing away, to know that Maya was lying through her laughing teeth.

"Liiiiiiar."

"That was definitely a lie."

"Urgh."  They'd made it out of the palace, and the air was thicker than Lillian had expected, even coming in that morning, the sun high and hot, adding to the oppressive atmosphere.  It really did feel like trying to breathe oatmeal, and she was already exhausted.  She definitely didn't want to be clinging to Maya, who'd already had a hard morning of training in this.

"It wasn't this bad when I came in," Maya assured Lillian, leading the way along the path, people parting for the blue hair, now restored to its vibrant glory by confessing her joking lie, "Or I would have canceled training today.  This is bad."

Lillian felt jittery and tingly, like she wanted to escape her skin in a very intense way.  She hoped the ritual didn't take very long, or she was going to have a panic attack, and she probably wouldn't be the only one.

"Lillian."

Lillian almost crashed into Maya's back as Maya stopped, and she easily sidled around Maya, uneasy smile on her face, "Sorry, I'm with you.  It's getting to me."

"Should we get something to eat?"

Lillian shook her head, "We're already not going to have the greatest view, let's just get in there."

Maya offered her hand, and Lillian took it, squeezing tightly as they continued into the amphitheater, which was a sea of golden robes.  Lillian didn't know why Hileans liked uniforms so much.  They had their marks of office, like every other disciple, Hileans' marks being yellow handprints on their arms, halfway between the wrist and elbow.  The robes covered that.

She could see other disciples, purple-necked disciples of Clio and red-lipped Loliens, armored disciples of Jettas playing guard, their blue hair vividly bright in a sea of darker colors, most serious-faced, a few joking with one another.

There were even some members of the general populace, but they were few and far between, simply due to the sheer density of the air.  They were smart and went away from places where it was difficult to breathe.  But that was neither here nor there.  The important thing was that the royal Hileans were in the center of the room on a dias around a mirror, one which flickered, like a light rod at the end of its existence, and there were a lot of people in a small space.

Maya managed to get them seats close to the dias, on the side where the light flickered.  It looked like Lady Torina, was the focal person for this spell, all the other Hileans would concern themselves with funneling energy to her, and her vision would bring forth....whatever.

Lillian gathered her skirt behind her knees and slowly slid her finger down her belt, making sure to position herself over her seat properly before letting herself drop into it.  And she was to Maya's right.  Yes.  She wanted to be able to keep holding Maya's hand, after all, and she leaned closer to Maya, "Do you really think they'll be able to summon the champion of lore?"

"I think they're going to try."

Lillian tried to elbow Maya in the arm and got pushed off with a laugh, "I don't know, Lillian, what  do you want me to say?  Noone thought the queen would ever be a man, but he is.  They have enough energy to make a lot of things happen.  Why not the champion?"

"But what if it's not the real champion?  How will anyone know?  What if the champion is peacefully dead and resents them bringing her forth?  What if they summon a berserker whose only concern is subjugating us all to her will?  Or a clever demon with similar aims?"

"For one," chuckled Maya, "Demons don't exist anymore.  And for two, there's lots of us here.  Do you see the sea of blue hair?  All the white foreheads?  We'll help deal with anything that arises.  Now shush, I think she's ready."

Sure enough, the image of the High Lady was on the face of the mirror, and Torina spoke, her voice booming throughout the room, with the assistance of a bit of magic, "And now we begin."

The golden-robed Hileans all began muttering their prayer, chanting Torina's name to focus energy towards, and the air began to feel less oppressive as the gathered energy was poured towards Torina, who was already beginning to sweat and turn coppery in the face, the mirror glowing a bright, distinct yellow.

Lillian had no idea how long they all watched and listened to the swelling voices, overlapping and intertwining.  To Lillian's astonishment, a hand came out of the mirror, fingers curiously reaching, followed by a very human arm farther and farther, almost up to the shoulder.  A startled murmur rippled from the people close enough to see it, spreading up the crowd and disrupting the Hileans, as even they stopped chanting to marvel at the sight.

The mirror's light dimmed, and the arm hastily retreated, prompting the closest Hileans to resume chanting, but louder, the rest taking their cue and diving back in.  For a small eternity, nothing happened.  A bare foot stepped out, onto the lower edge of the mirror, causing it to wobble precariously before the owner of that foot thought better and hesitantly slid their foot down, clearly feeling for the floor.

Lillian was breathless, Maya's hand tight in hers.  The foot was followed by a leg, a hip, a hand and arm coming out to hold the mirror, higher up, then a body, nude, a head, hair, and a bewildered face.  They had done it.  They had actually done it.  They had summoned the champion.

There was a moment of breathless silence before Torina whirled, triumphantly thrusting her hands into the air and howling, "The champion has arrived!"  The silence broke like a dam overflowing, and everyone cheered, even Lillian, watching as everyone leapt to their feet around her.  Apparently the champion hadn't realized how many people were there, because they looked up, visibly stunned by the roaring noise and raucous cheering.  Lillian would feel bad for them later.  Now was the time to celebrate.

Champion

Sorry for the lack of poetry this week, as well as the late story, but in exchange for your patience, I give you the first chapter in a new novel I am writing.  Enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

"Dylan, you're home!"

Dylan's landlord was an older woman, white, a bit scrawny, with a scratchy kind of high-pitched voice.  Dylan had really been hoping to avoid her, but she was sweeping up dead leaves out front, and the only approach to to the house from the bus stop was visible from where she was.  Dylan couldn't, in good conscience, just walk by without responding to her.  "Yeah, I'm just getting back from work."

It was fall, but the day had been hot, and Dylan's backpack was heavy, digging into their shoulders and making Dylan's back sweat.  "I was just raking some leaves," replied the landlord, rather unnecessarily, "Doing some chores around the house."

"Oh.  That's good."

"Yeah, I've been raking leaves and I mowed the lawn earlier, my back is killing me."

"I can see how that could be a pain."  The lawn was huge, wrapping around the already-large house and extending back quite a ways.  Dylan sure as hell didn't want to do it, but that was why Dylan was renting, rather than owning their own home.  Also it was cheaper, but that was beside the point.

"Yeah, I've still got to get the gutters, all these leaves have probably clogged that up, it's gonna be a real hassle to clean up."

She paused for a moment, not quite looking at Dylan, and not quite not looking at Dylan while they struggled to find an answer.  Dylan had never cleaned gutters, and wasn't sure why the landlady was talking about it.  Maybe she was trying for sympathy?  Or just trying to connect?  Dylan had had a long, trying day at work and just couldn't muster up much emotional anything.

"I'm sorry to hear that.  I hope it goes well.  I'm...gonna head on inside."  Dylan slowly took first one, then another step towards the front door, not wanting to be rude, but more than ready to be done with this conversation.

The landlady lifted her hand in farewell, "You have a good evening."

"You, too."

Dylan went inside, where they breathed a sigh of relief.  That was over.  And noone was in the kitchen, which meant Dylan didn't have to try awkwardly navigating around other renters to do things in the tiny space.

Dylan washed the day's lunch dishes, prepared breakfast and lunch for the next day, then sat down to eat a dinner of cheese, sweet bread, and mango, with seasoned microwave beef strips from a bag, because that was what Dylan had been craving for dinner when they went shopping for the week.  It was all delicious and quite filling, and that was really all that mattered, even if, while cutting the mango, Dylan couldn't help thinking about how sharp the knife was, how quickly it would stab through flesh, how the blood wouldn't be too difficult to clean from the tile.  Then the microwave beeped, and Dylan retrieved the beef strips, so that dinner would be complete.

Dylan was just discarding their trash when another renter came into the kitchen.  The fisherman.  He was nice, and he was willing to let there be silence, which Dylan appreciated.  Dylan gave the man a nod of acknowledgement, receiving one in return as the pair traded places in the kitchen, Dylan leaving, and the man entering.

A quick trip down the stairs later and it was shower time.  Dylan showered, briefly used the swiffers to clean the shower and the rest of the bathroom, wiped down the sink real quick, washed their hands and retreated to their bedroom, still completely nude, and grateful, not for the first time, that they had a private bathroom across from the bedroom, even if it was the size of a closet, and awkward for Dylan's bulky figure to maneuver around in.

Done with the annoying parts of the return home, Dylan took a few minutes to masturbate, as a personal reward for showering and cleaning the bathroom, which they'd planned to do every day, and thus far, had managed.  Once done with that, Dylan decided a little shuteye before hopping online would be nice, and after setting the alarm timer to half an hour, so the short nap didn't turn into sleeping all night, Dylan closed their eyes, took deep breaths, and intentionally relaxed, allowing themselves to fall into a meditative state.

There were women.  Two of them in front.  Four in back.  All of them glowing in different colors.  Just out of earshot of Dylan.

The women in front looked human.  Both were round and soft, one with brown skin with red undertones, the other a much darker, truer brown, not quite model-black, but close.  The lighter woman glowed a sunny yellow and, combined with her huge, gorgeous afro, seemed to have a halo.  The darker woman glowed blue and had long locs pulled up into an elaborate style, whispering with her companion.  From the way they kept looking over, it was clear they were discussing Dylan.

Behind them was a huge woman who appeared to be made of grey boulders, a full, green bush with far-reaching roots serving as her hair.  Though she was about the same shape as the more human women in front, she was scaled about twice as large, and rather resembled a mobile mountain.  She was hunched over in deference to the black hand on her shoulder, the red glow surrounding it pushing oddly at the green glow surrounding her.

The bald woman whom the red glow surrounded wasn't model-black, but a true, light-sucking black, with the notable exception of her bone-white pubes and eyebrows.  Whatever she was saying to the rock woman, it had her full attention, because she didn't seem to notice the excited-looking little woman who was crawling her way up the rock woman's other side.

The climber had bronze-brown skin with glitter under it, glowing purple on top of it, her half-braided, half pressed hair tripping her up as she climbed.  When she reached the rock woman's head and startled the bald woman, her long hair was used to pull her, prompting her to scramble behind the meager defense the fourth woman offered.

The last woman looked like a life-sized painting, cut out of the frame, glowing white and almost human-looking, like the others.  She had a frizzy ponytail, smoothed down around the edges by smears of dried paint, and she moved like a stopmotion film, in awkward starts and stops.  When the glitter-skinned woman hid behind her, she spread her arms wide, even as she disapprovingly glared over her shoulder, while the rock woman gently held back the enraged bald one.

Dylan decided this was probably the most interesting thing they'd seen in months, and stepped forward, with the intent to engage the foreign women in conversation.  They ran into what felt like syrup, catching the attention of the woman glowing yellow, whose head popped up in alarm as she waved an arm at Dylan, urging Dylan back.  But it was already too late, and the women disappeared before Dylan could retreat.  There was a distant yellow light, however, illuminating the surrounding darkness, and the sound of voices, raised in either song or prayer.

The light washed out everything, the only thing that Dylan could see, so Dylan continued walking forward.  The voices resolved themselves into chanting that grew louder the closer Dylan got, the light resolving itself into a doorway, or perhaps a window, too bright to see beyond, and a few inches off the ground.  A tentative hand through the center of the light met with no resistance, though as Dylan extended more of their arm through, the chanting faltered, causing the light to dim.

Dylan sharply withdrew their arm, not wanting to lose it if the window suddenly closed, but the chanting picked up again, and the light brightened.  Dylan tried to step up on the bottom edge of the window of light, as if it were a true step.  It wobbled precariously, so Dylan grabbed the edges to keep it from falling.  Once Dylan was certain it wasn't going anywhere, they poked their foot out, finding solid ground on the other side, at about the same level as it was on Dylan's side, and quickly stepped through.

Dylan turned out to be climbing out of a mirror into the center of a circle of women wearing matching yellow robes.  All of the robed women glowed lemony yellow, with the exception of the gray-haired older woman facing the mirror, whose yellow glow was tinted black close to her skin.  She looked stunned at the sight of Dylan coming out of her mirror, completely nude, and she paused for a long moment before suddenly turning, thrusting her arms into the air with a triumphant cry.

"The champion has arrived!"

A roaring cheer rose up around them, and Dylan suddenly realized that the circle of women surrounding the mirror was, in turn, surrounded by an enormous stadium full of people.  Dylan wasn't sure if this was an elaborate dream, or hallucinations caused by bad...something, but as Dylan looked around, they realized that maybe this hadn't been the best idea they'd ever had.

Next Chapter

Sern

The temple is a small, squat affair in the center of the village, unassuming and rather drab.  The most interesting thing about the temple is the large courtyard it surrounds.  At the center of this courtyard is a tree, possibly the largest in the world, certainly the oldest, and the small temple gives the impression of containing the tree, protecting it from the world.  Or perhaps protecting the world from it.

The courtyard is never empty.

The courtyard, and the holy tree at its center, is a gathering place for the vast majority of the village, because it is the most comforting place to be, filled with the prayers of future parents wanting children, new parents offering their gratitude for their children and exchanging advice, and children, running and laughing, brown skin made darker by the sun, black curls bleached yellow by the same.

The future parents are the primary concern of the priests in the temple, as the future parents are the most likely to go without food or sleep, praying to the tree and the ribbon they've tied to it for a child.  In a few weeks' time, if they are both devoted and truly want a child, the ribbon will adorn the oblong red fruit that will bow the tree's branches.

In that oblong fruit will be the beginning of a young child.  When the fruit grows to the proper size, a priest will carefully harvest it, cutting the stem above the ribbon marking parentage, and the parents will take the fruit home to begin the work of feeding energy into it, and the young child within.

Assuming that the fruit does not wilt due to lack of attention or toxic environment, it will gradually shade to blue on the outside, then grow larger and larger for five months, at which point, it will actively take the energy it needs from its parents, rather than passively receiving, and in a final burst, it will bloom into a rainbow-colored flower, vividest bright blue on the outside and deep, blood red in the center, where the new baby will lay, crying and wanting its parents.

Most parents keep the ribbon and flower as a memento for themselves and their children, all parents return to the temple courtyard, to offer their thanks to the parent of all, holy Casern, who has granted them their new child, and also to seek advice from each other, as well as the head priest.

Because the new baby will be a combination of the parents' energies, its young body and mind will be an amalgamation of the parents.  It is not uncommon for parents who have sustained disabling physical injuries to pass those disabilities, or a portion of those disabilities, to their children, and it is just as common for people born with such disabilities from their own parents to pass their inherited disability on to their children.

Similarly, parents with certain mental states frequently produce children with similar mental states, or, more commonly, children whose mental state is some unique combination of the mental state of the parents.

Such a variety of bodies and minds offers children, and their parents, the chance to learn and grow, and it is not uncommon to hear children exclaiming to their parents and peers about prosthetics or wheelchairs they have encountered that they like, or for children, deaf, partially so, and hearing alike, to make up hand signs together to describe things they encounter until they learn the true sign for it, as well as for children, blind, partially so, or not at all, to come up with words for their own experience.

The childrens' games, of course, naturally vary based on the ability of the group gathered, and either have audible, visual, and tactile components, or depend on teams, to accommodate for varying levels of ability and disability.  Lessons about the world with the priests, of course, are similarly crafted, though most children learn the vast majority of what they know from their parents and peers as they grow, from work and play, as well as from socializing in the courtyard, modeling what they experience from that environment.

On any day, the head priest will see many couples and triads of parents, some female, some male, some mixed-gender, offering advice for how to handle this aspect or that of parentage, reassuring nervous parents that their child's fruit is the right color for how long they've been home, so on and so forth.

Xe is very good at xir job, and xe enjoys it greatly, enjoys talking to people, meeting people, and, of course, watching the children grow up around the temple grounds nude as the day they were born in the tropical heat, variably investigating the physicality of a sex they don't have yet.

All children, of course, are born without sex, much like holy Casern, and they will be given four chances to try different anatomy as they age, depending on what they encounter in their studies that they are curious about, or based on what they are told.

Some children will first try a sex they are fairly certain they don't want for their first choice at 12, and change for their second choice at 15.  Others will choose the sex they think they want at 12, and try the one they think they don't want for their third choice at 18 before changing back for their final choice at 21.

Others are indecisive and switch back and forth, while some know what they want and make their choice immediately, never varying it, and still others find themselves surprised by how much they like or dislike a certain sex and change or maintain their decision accordingly at each decision point.

All such decisions affect how childrens' bodies grow and develop, because changing sex doesn't eliminate the effects of the prior decision they've made, and some children will choose no sex at certain decision points, depending on how they want their body to develop.

Some children, like many of the temple's priests, choose no sex for more than one decision point, precisely because they want to serve holy Casern, or else because being without sex is familiar and comforting to them, though most choose a sex at least once.

One child, to the high priest's vague surprise, chooses no sex for all their decision points, even though their parents are all strongly attached to their sex, and most of their peers are strongly interested in one sex or another.

Xe finally understands when xe prays to Casern, and that child, now an adult, appears before xir with a faint, pleased smile, standing before the massive statue of Casern, resembling the deity incarnate.

"Oh," xe murmurs, surprised by this development, earning a wider grin in response.  Xe falls on xir face, humbled and honored by the incarnation of holy Casern answering xir query for more information, as well as for the honor of having raised and taught said incarnation for all these years, though there is only one reason xe can think of for them doing this, at this stage of xir life, "I am ready for the end, whenever you shall deem it right to take me from this life, holy one."

"I know you are. But you have much work ahead of you."

Xe looked up to see Casern's genderless young incarnation give a slow twirl, turning to look up at the statue they stood below, "And I have much to learn yet."

And Baby Makes Four

**This story features non-graphic mentions of rape, attempted rape, kidnapping, slavery, and PTSD.  If these story elements are upsetting to you, please be forewarned that they appear.**

When Lady Tori of Tremaine Castle first saw Etra, she was instantly enthralled by the woman, tall and a bit sickly from overexertion, but with elegant hands and flowing robes that changed color before Tori's eyes.

Etra was the traveling storyteller, come to the Tremaine from distant lands and her stories were magic, brought to life for children and adults alike with illusions so vivid, Tori could taste them, feel them, smell them.

Etra gave herself the role of the wise witch, and Tori was suddenly transformed into the brave knight Etra had endowed with the weaponry to retrieve the clever princess kidnapped by filthy barbaric northerners, played by a beautiful merchant named Janelle, who was just as confused about her sudden change in role, but who, like Tori, played along.

Tori fought a dragon, huge and bitter with age, hot breath transforming her black globe of curls into a flaming halo of death, while Janelle used science to discredit the evil young wizard before his savage king.

Tori outwit a troll, at the expense of bruises that lasted for days, and she truly felt those days, dragging heavy armor and heavier feet ever forward after a princess all her comrades assumed dead, while Janelle made friends with female housestaff who taught her how to keep the envious wizard from exacting his vengeance by way of nightly visit, and used what she learned to thwart the evil wizard until he gave that tactic up

Tori navigated swamps and climbed mountains, and when she reached the princess, she had truly fought for her lady, while Janelle had fought just as hard, navigating treaties with the king with wit and determination, and nightly assassins from the evil wizard with powders and poisons hidden in her long ropes of hair.

Janelle came to Tori's side, the princess as triumphant as the knight, and the wise witch who narrated their adventures declared them victorious and deserving of the happily ever after due any princess and her knight.

It was a terrible shock for both women when the illusory framework serving as their twinned stories dropped away, leaving Tori down on one knee before Janelle's travel-worn shoes, a soft, warm hand between her shoulderblades.

The hand slowly, hesitantly withdrew as Tori lifted her head, looking past the round of Janelle's belly and ample bust to the softness of her face, where she saw the desire and devotion she felt, only partially leftover from the tale, reflected in Janelle's deep brown eyes.

Tori stood, but a cloud crossing the sun caused Janelle to glance towards the sky, reminding both women that they'd lost half the day to this silliness.  Tori's time could and would be made up at the expense of Tori's night, but Janelle's was her livelihood, and her way of having food and a place to stay the night.  As apology, Tori invited Janelle to stay the night in a room at Tremaine Castle, and the look on Janelle's face assured Tori that whatever room Janelle was to be in, she wanted Tori to be in it as well

Etra, haggard and worn from her entertainment efforts, staggered over to the pair, her wide smile lit from within as she praised both women for their roles in her story, praising their passion and enthusiasm, confessing that she extended the tale farther than she usually did in deference to their commitment to their characters, long fingers and elegant hands once again catching Tori's attention as Etra concluded by informing the pair that it was the best performance she'd done in years.

Tori invited Etra to Tremaine Castle for the night as well, the interested arch of Janelle's brow informing Tori that Etra had caught Janelle's attention as well, even though Tori strongly suspected Etra would only sleep.


Tori and Janelle were both pleased and delighted when Etra accepted the invitation, but though the women made their interest known, and Etra seemed to reciprocate, by the time the meal had ended, they had watched in awe as Etra consumed enough food for five women to replenish energy lost, and was forced to sleep off her necessary gluttony alone.

With Etra comfortably ensconced in her bed for the night, Tori and Janelle retreated to Tori's quarters, where Tori discovered that Janelle was witty and achingly sweet, while Janelle learned that Tori was devoted and astonishingly lonely, and the women bonded over their shared experience in Etra's story, and more.

Neither much minded Etra's absence, though when they fed each other fruit and sweet-tasting breads over lunch, to help each other recover from a night as interesting as their day, they were saddened to learn that Etra left early in the day, but with promises to return to them someday.

Janelle remained with Tori for more than a month, learning the lady of the castle and being learned in turn, but soon, she was forced to return to parents and siblings that missed her and needed her to take care of them.  Tori sent gifts of food, cloth, and toys home with Janelle, happily accepting freely-given promises to return.

Janelle craved travel and frequent change of scenery, so even though she had Tori's patronage and love, she continued her work as a merchant, selling and trading far and wide.  She visited Tori often, occasionally bringing her family to join her, until soon, Tori considered Janelle's family her own, a distinction they accepted with pride.

Before long, the people of Tremaine considered Janelle and her family as much a part of Tremaine Castle as their Lady Tori, because rather than exploit Tori's kindness, Janelle's family found ways to help and improve Tremaine, and its lady as well.

Years came and went, and though Tori and Janelle sometimes thought of the storyteller who'd brought them together, they were happy together, even when Janelle's absences left Tori aching for her love, and Tori's refusal to travel left Janelle aching in much the same way.

When Etra returned to Tremaine Castle, it was shocking and unexpected, the tall woman deathly ill from escaping slavers she met while in the distant, cold north, her spirit deeply poisoned by the iron that had burned her body in reaction to the magic it possessed.

Etra had needed somewhere safe to return to, and Tremaine Castle, so far from the cold of the north, and home to at least one person Etra remembered wanting her presence, seemed like the perfect place to come to, even after so long away.  She was, of course, quite right.

Tori tended Etra while Janelle, having traveled widely, explained to Tori that the northerners were prone to kidnapping any woman capable of magic and attempting to use said woman to obtain magic for their daughters, born of a northerner and a southerner, as the northerners had no magic of their own.

Etra could not get pregnant, and would have thus been useless to the northerners.  The only reason Etra was able to escape was because her captors did not realize her powers extended beyond illusions, which were merely what she was most skilled at, and she was able to use it to return to Tremaine when they set her loose in their snowy woods, with intent to hunt her like an animal.

It took a long time, but between Tori and Janelle, they were able to restore Etra's body to health, and though Etra's mind had suffered from what she'd endured, Tori and Janelle learned how to navigate those painful places, to make Tremaine Castle a safe place for Etra to be.

Etra tasted of Janelle the first time she kissed Tori, and it was an old, familiar flavor combined with a new and exciting one that made Tori fall in love with both women, all over again.

Soon, though, even love and old fears could not curb Etra's wanderlust, and with Janelle as her companion, Tori felt she needn't worry too much about where her lovers went or how long they were gone, though the days without them were long and slow, causing her to turn to Janelle's family, now Tori's as well, more and more.

Janelle's niece, Dana, was clever, and she loved Tremaine as her own, so Tori began grooming the girl to be the new lady of Tremaine, waiting every day for her lovers to return to her when she was not occupied with such grooming, and the matters of Tremaine that so occupied the bulk of her time.

It was a joyous day in Tremaine when Lady Tori's loves returned home, both glowing with pride in work well done, each their own, and both fiercely missing their shared love.  And share they did, occupying the rest of Tori's night and much of her next day, showing her how much they'd missed her.

After only a few days with Tori and Janelle, Etra soon insisted that she was ready to set out for her next adventure, even that she'd stayed too long, to both her lovers' dismay: Janelle, because she'd only just reunited with her family after time away, and Tori, because, like Janelle, she didn't want to see Etra leave so soon.

For their sake, Etra stayed another week, and then, she was gone again.  The next years were hard on Tori, for Etra could not be kept home for longer than a few days at a time, not returning for months at a time, and Janelle frequently got itchy feet before Etra returned, and would often leave Tori without either of her loves for weeks, sometimes months at a time, especially if they left at the same time, though she still saw Janelle most frequently.

Things changed when Tori got pregnant.  She had made her desire to have children known to both her lovers, and while Janelle had no desire to be pregnant, and thus took measures to ensure Etra could never give her one, she had assured Tori that if a child came along, she would be happy to dote on that child as one of its mothers.

When Tori learned she was to have Etra's child, Janelle promised to relay the message to Etra when the two travelers' paths inevitably crossed, as neither was prone to using backroads or obscure routes, for no people could be found there to support their work.

Tori was six months along, her belly beginning to swell when the women returned to her, together, for once in a rare while, and Tori was relieved when both promised to stay close until the baby was born.

The next few years were blissful for Tori, who needn't pine for her lovers' presence while they were away, only seek them out in her home.  Janelle, more accustomed to remaining in one place for longer periods, handled the time rather easily, learning some of what her niece knew, and some of what the rest of her family had learned to help Tori as Tori's pregnancy took a toll on her, and Etra's illusions and tactics from distant lands helped Tori and the people of Tremaine in still different manners.

Etra was less content with her restiveness, and took long rides throughout Tremaine to learn and entertain the people, sometimes with Janelle, and sometimes alone, though when the baby was born, she doted on the child as much as Tori and Janelle.

The child was named Morgan, and when Morgan was old enough to walk and ride a horse, Etra insisted that an expedition was necessary, taking Janelle with her and Morgan.  Tori had never been more terrified in her life, but when Janelle eventually brought Morgan home, explaining that Etra had continued on alone, Tori was relieved her child had returned healthy, as well as a little saddened that life had returned to what it once was, even understanding that her life smothered her Etra.

Fortunately, Etra returned home more often, frequently to sweep Morgan away, sometimes to bask with her family, Janelle and Tori and Morgan, the four of them all together.  As Morgan grew, Etra was also able to enjoy more intimate time with her lovers, staying home longer to do so.  Janelle, of course, also resumed her traveling ways, often taking Morgan with her, and Morgan would frequently leave with one traveling mother and return with the other.

Tori laughingly resigned herself to the fact that she had a family of wanderers, and when Morgan struck out alone, Tori had a third party to await the return of, with reunions being happy affairs, and occasions when they were all together, usually Morgan's birthday, even happier.

The love of Morgan's life turned out to be a northerner, to terrified shock and awe, but the tales of love Morgan carried back were enough to sway Janelle and Etra, the frightened Tori resisting for a long time, out of memory for pain caused her lover.  It took visits from Morgan's new family to convince Tori that, if nowhere else, Morgan was safe with them.

Even so, Tori did everything she could to tempt Morgan's new family to Tremaine, where her child would be close, and the dangers posed by the northerns would be minimized, but their home had been with them for centuries, and Morgan wisely pointed out that Dana, training under Tori's tutelage, was better-suited to look after Tremaine than the wanderlust-filled Morgan.

With a heavy heart, Tori traveled from Tremaine for the first time in her life, to attend Morgan's wedding.  The trek was frightening, remembering the experiences Etra had endured, and being amongst so many northerners was disorienting, but with Etra, Janelle, and Morgan to show her the way, Tori found the trip enjoyable, leaving Dana to do what she had been learning to do for decades.

Tori was happy to return home, and though she was sad Morgan was so far, the distance and the travel exhilarated Morgan, who visited often, frequently with gifts and messages conducted from Etra or Janelle as Morgan's route crossed theirs.

The years passed, and the travels of Etra and Janelle slowed, fewer trips out happening each year, those trips lasting shorter and shorter periods of time.  Tori wanted to be happy, but she knew it was because her lovers were becoming less and less capable of doing what they loved, which saddened her greatly, because it was their passion.

To their pained shock, Etra was the first to pass, burned out by her powers, and though Tori tried to console Janelle by traveling with her, Tori could not travel with Janelle as Etra had traveled with Janelle, and Tori soon gave up the effort.

Tori was the next to pass, her life of dedication to Tremaine having finally taken its toll on her body, and she was buried beside Etra.  When the grief-stricken Janelle followed her into death a year later, she was buried on the other side of Tori, the way the new lady of Tremaine thought it should be.

Morgan mourned the deaths of three mothers, but time softened the most painful edges, and Morgan left Tremaine in the most capable hands it could be left in, allowing the Castle and its surrounding area to flourish, until noone was left alive who remembered the Lady Tori, the Illusionist Etra, and the Merchant Janelle, who loved each other so.