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Title: The Mary Sue Virus: A Faerie Tale
Chapter Two: Long Forgotten
Fandom: Merry Gentry Universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: graphic sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in.
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of LKH. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea,  and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar. Daz has been a big help on the plotting front. thanks, hon!

The Mary Sue Virus: A Faerie Tale Index


Viola watched as the others headed in either direction up the hall. While the men had left Fflur's room, they hadn't gone very far. In fact, when she'd opened the door, she'd found herself staring at three equally concerned faces. Giving the men a smile, she'd stepped back and let each of the three patients pass through the doorway. Raevynne went first, a hint of tightness at the corners of her mouth when she saw that Mistral leaning casually against the wall. He inclined his head toward Viola, then took Rae's arm in hand and marched her off down the hall. Sholto, King of the Sluagh, offered his arm to Mairwen as she emerged and escorted her solicitously toward her rooms.

That left Starr, who almost seemed to be moving slower than she should have. Fflur had given her a once over and declared that she was well enough. No doubt Frost, who stood waiting silently for her, wouldn't be so certain. Viola said goodnight to Starr and waited until she and Frost were out of sight before she turned back to look at Fflur. "I shall check in on them all tomorrow to ensure that their ailments are healed. I bid you a good evening."

"Good evening, Viola. And thank you for your help." With a smile and a nod, Viola pulled the door shut behind her. Pausing, she took a moment to study the small patch of marble set into a wall of crumbling earth. The edges of the marble were smooth and appeared to simply grow out of the dirt, as if the two were part of the same whole. The veins that ran through the marble were of varying sizes, twisting and twining like lightning forking across the sky. The ivy was a lush, deep green that could only come from being kissed by the sun. It circled the marble before sending runners out across the dirt. There were four. Three of them had stretched out to follow after the other women. Only one of them remained short, though it twitched and moved as it waited. Waited for her to find her way back to her own room.

She started out, barely hearing the rustle of leaves as the ivy trailed after her, like a new puppy followed its master. She might have paid it more attention, but her thoughts were on the things she knew. The virus had struck one more time. This time, they were in the middle of court intrigue. Meredith had been killed and so had her unborn children. No doubt the fathers mourned the loss of them. And no doubt Queen Andais had made it clear that keeping Faerie alive was much more important to her than their personal grief. Chances were good that they were already under orders to go out and find new partners. They'd proven once already that they were fertile. She likely wanted them to do so again.

Viola wondered if there was enough fertile blood left in Faerie to accomplish such a feat. Something told her that it was. The ivy on the walls, the dirt changing to marble, suggested that there was yet life in the sithen and in Faerie itself. Such changes shouldn't be happening. Not after Merry's death. Everything should have been dry and dead and decaying. She'd been the one to bring life back to Faerie. She'd brought the magic back. All of that should have gone with her. None of it had. Which meant that it was probable that Goddess had found a way to keep alive that to which Merry had given birth.

Memories from two different women combined in her head to help her paint a better picture of what was going on. Viola, the real Viola, knew that Merry had been dead for two months, almost three. In that time, there had been no real chance to mourn her death. Her men had been forced to return to the sithen in order to keep them safe on Andais' orders. It had been shortly after that, only a pair of weeks, that the assassination attempts had begun. So far, the assassin or assassins had only managed to injure a few of the Fae. No one had been killed, but no one was capable of putting a face or name to their attacker. Adding to the under current of concern was the fact that several people who had openly and publicly supported Merry had gone missing.

At the same time, the part of her that was Daz felt sure that Goddess had found a way to save her beloved Fair Folk. That was the reason the were Sues here in this world. They were there to discover the force behind Merry's death and the attacks being perpetrated on the members of the Unseelie court. They were also there to keep Faerie alive. Doing so meant being impregnated by one of the men. The only true way to keep Faerie from failing was to bring new blood into it. Merry had been on the verge of doing that exact thing. Her death should have set things back. Thanks to the virus and Goddess' interference, a back up plan had been put into place.

She and her friends were that back up plan.

It was the absence of rustling that warned her that something was wrong. Glancing up, Viola found her about to turn the corner to the hall where her door was found. She looked over her shoulder to see that the ivy was drawing back. It was as if it was afraid of what was around that corner. Which left her wondering if she should turn that last corner. No doubt whatever was down there was wild and deadly. She had no means of protecting herself if there was a weapon involved.

She stood at the corner, one lip caught between her teeth, while she tried to decide what to do. The decision was made for her as a dark figure flowed around the turn and glared down at her with anger flashing in his eyes. "You were told to have an escort no matter where you went. Your mother said you left the hall with no one at your side."

His anger almost hid the concern in his voice. She only smiled at him. "I did not think that an assassin would jump out at me when I was on the heels of Mistral and Raevynne. I was hardly alone."

"You should not take such risks, Viola. What would you have done if someone had challenged you? You carry no weapon. You could have been killed."

"Feminine wiles no longer count as a weapon?" She asked the question with heat in her voice and imagined that her curt tone would bring color to his cheeks. Not that such a thing would happen. Doyle, the Queen's Darkness, showed no such telling emotions as embarrassment. The only thing she got for her troubles was a tightening of his lips that attested to his growing ire.

"I do not think this the time or place for such remembrances." Nothing had changed in his voice, yet she knew that he was uncomfortable with the topic.

"You do not think? You accused me of using my feminine wiles once. In fact, you claimed it was because of my wiles that I had yet to meet a challenger in a duel. It was as close to insulting me as you could come without passing comment on my parentage or lineage." She narrowed her eyes on him, dared him to try and talk his way out of this.

"I have no wish to fight with you, Viola. Not about things best left in the past. All that concerns me is the present. The threat of violence is real. As one of the Queen's guard, it is my duty to protect all inhabitants of the sithen."

She crossed her arms over her chest and shot a glare at him. "Oh. It is the queen's guard now. You are once more on her leash, like the good dog you are?" She watched his mouth thin with anger and wondered if she'd just earned her own death. It was too late to take it back. Not that she planned on doing such a thing. She was still angered with him. Perhaps a thousand years was a long time to carry a grudge, but he'd done nothing to earn a reprieve from her temper. And this latest show of masculine conceit only served to spike it higher.

"Your opinion of me does not change the fact that the danger is very real. How would you have defended yourself against a sword, Viola? How would you have protected yourself from attack?"

She felt the magic of the sithen gather round her, as if offering her its protection and an answer. She let him stew in his anger for a moment or two before she replied to him, allowing him to think that she had no response to give. "The sithen will protect me." She would not tell him of the marble patch outside of Fflur's door. Nor would she mention the creeping finger of ivy that had followed her to the corner, only to slip away just before he'd turned that same corner to confront her.

The look he gave her with that answer was dubious. "You are so certain of this?"

She was, but she couldn't tell him that. How was she to explain the things she knew? He wouldn't believe her that she knew Goddess was watching over them. Other than the marble and the vines, she knew that there had been no signs that Goddess was still there. She'd heard whispers from members of the court that suggested Goddess had abandoned them with Merry's death. Many of them felt that Faerie would surely die now. Viola knew better, but it wasn't as if she could explain how she knew these things.

Tossing a frown his way, she made sure to give him her most stubborn look. Let him think it was because she had no answer for him. She only wanted the encounter over and was willing to do whatever it took to see that happen. Doyle made no move to leave her side. "You may leave now, Doyle. I have things to attend to." She made to duck around him and head for the door to her room. Sadly, there was no slipping past the queen's best assassin. His hand shot out to capture her arm and she found herself swung back around until she was facing him.

"Things? What things?" She watched as his eyes narrowed on her, his look considering. And not at all pleasant. "You are meeting with this... human you have been seeing?"

She felt her temper flare again. The way he said human... It reminded her of the way her father had once spoken of him. As if a human was lower than dirt. "You have no say in my life anymore, Doyle. That right was revoked a very long time ago."

"A very long time ago, you refused to spend your life with me. Because your father believed that my blood was too mixed to mingle with his own pure line. Now you defy him by laying with a human? How has he not disowned you for such acts?" She heard the jealousy in his voice. It wasn't the kind of jealousy a man has when a woman he once had a relationship with moves on to another man. It was the kind of jealousy that came with the realization he'd been let go was no longer a valid one.

"I am a different woman now than I was then. I can see whomever I choose. My father has no say in my life any longer." She gave him a haughty stare.

"You should have told me. Perhaps we could have..."

"What could we have done, Doyle? By the time I realized that my father is much too set in the old ways, you were already bound by the Queen's geas. She only released you from your vows so that you could impregnate the princess. I had moved on with my life by then. Telling you would have served no purpose."

"So now you leave the safety of the sithen to meet with a human in their world? Have you any idea what danger lies in the mortal world?"

"No doubt the same dangers that lie within the safety of the sithen." She worked her arm free of his grasp and took a step back. Being so close to him did odd things to her equilibrium. She smoothed the length of her skirts with an absent motion. "Have you forgotten that you were taking me to task only moments ago for wandering the sithen without protection?"

"You should not wander the sithen without a guard at your side. I have heard that you cannot hold your tongue in the presence of others. Your views about Meredith and mixed blood has no doubt made you enemies. With the assassination attempts, you should not be alone. And you should not leave the sithen unprotected. The assassin could target you easily outside the walls of our home."

"I refuse to cower behind someone else's sword, Doyle."

"You carry no weapon, Viola. You cannot protect yourself without a weapon."

"I carry no weapon because I need no weapon. My life is not at risk. As such, I have no need of a guard to ensure I do not trip over my own skirts." She saw that he didn't believe her, which only served to anger her further. What was it about him that infuriated her so easily when so many other men garnered no reaction from her at all? "I can take care of myself, Doyle. I have no need of a man to see to it that I do not break a nail."

"I find that hard to believe, Viola." There was a blatant disbelief in his voice. That was the last straw. He'd insulted her ability to protect herself one too many times. She was tired of it. Frowning at him, her hand curled into a tight fist and, without blinking an eye at him, she threw her arm up. Her fist swung for his chin.

He must have been expecting such an action because he ducked back and caught her arm, dragging her body in close to his. He nearly slammed her into the wall, her back hitting it so hard that it knocked the breath from her lungs. When her free hand came up in an attempt to slap him, he caught that arm, too. His hands slid up to her wrists and curled around them tightly, then brought them up to pin them to the wall above her head.

His body was close to hers. She could feel it hovering only a hair's breadth away, the heat of it brushing hers enticingly. It had been a long time since she'd found herself in this position. While she wasn't entirely thrilled with it, her body was. It remembered just what it had felt like all those years ago when he'd been hers for a time. It remembered and it wanted to feel it again.

"Let me go." She tried to make her voice sound firm and indignant. She felt it hit somewhere close to quavering and desperate. Doyle only smiled down at her, a flash of white in a far too dark face. Obviously he'd heard the exact opposite in her words. He inched closer until his thighs touched hers. A shiver that had nothing to do with the chill air of the corridor worked its way up her spine. "Let me go now."

"You do not really wish me to let you go, Viola." He closed a little more distance until his groin was pressed against her own. She wasn't surprised that he was turned on by their back and forth power play. His face was mere centimeters from hers when he next spoke, the heat of his breath pluming across her flesh. It reminded her of their former home. Of a full moon shining down on the wild moors. Of naked humans twisting and twining around one another in dance to primitive music. Of bonfires roaring in the dead of night, their flames reaching to the heavens in supplication. Of soft forest beds covered with fallen leaves. Of brilliant moonlight shining from under her skin, speckled with hints of green. Of light shining through jet to land as reverse stars against her skin. "Do you?"

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she no longer wanted anything to do with him, that their relationship was long gone in the past. But he closed the last bit of distance between them so that his chest lay flat against hers. It started a tingle in her breasts that brought her nipples to hard peaks under her gown. He smiled again, this one less arrogant and more secretive. As if he was sharing something only with her. Her heart started slamming hard in her chest. Mouth suddenly dry with the intensity of his stare, her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. His chuckle was darker than his skin. "I thought not."

Before she could stop him, before she could talk sense into herself, he closed the last remaining bit of space between them so that his mouth could take hers. Memories long left buried in the back of her mind crawled into the light and she realized again just how much she wanted him. How much she'd always wanted him. His body molded itself to hers, pinning her completely to the crumbling dirt of the wall behind her. His hands drifted higher, slipping between hers so that their fingers were entwined.

Everything in Viola that had denied him shattered with the feel of his lips gliding lightly across hers. It was almost as if he was uncertain of his welcome. Her hands squeezed his, a silent urging to deepen the contact. He needed nothing else to drive him. His mouth became possessive and demanding, teasing and coaxing a response from her. Her head spun with old memories and the earthy scent of him. The hardness of his body formed to the softness of hers.

It only took the touch of his tongue to see her mouth opening to him. His tongue darted inside and took possession. She felt as if no time had passed at all. He knew every last place to touch, the feel of his tongue gliding against hers, against the interior of her mouth, driving her to heights of need she'd only ever reached with him. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer. She wanted to pull him into her rooms so that he could lay her down on her bed and do everything to her that he'd done before. She wanted...

She wanted him.

The thought should have startled her, but it didn't. Somewhere inside, some part of her had always known that her heart would always be his. It had hurt her when he'd become a Raven. She'd coped with it, though, understanding that it was likely her fault he'd been driven to such measures in the first place. In time, she'd learned to live with it. What had hurt her most was seeing him relieved of his duty as a Raven only to be given to Merry. And he'd gone. Willingly. Worse, he'd developed feelings for her. Viola had had her heart ripped out a second time.

All of those thoughts crowded her head, yet she couldn't really make herself let go of him. If she was being honest with herself, she'd wanted this to happen for so long. She'd never tell him that, of course. It was a conceit he didn't need. But she'd missed him. Her body had missed him. She wasn't sure just what it was she felt for him, but she knew it was far from hate. Which she'd told herself was all she'd felt for him for years. She couldn't lie to herself, no matter how hard she tried.

Those thoughts were forgotten when he shifted slightly, pressed a thigh between hers. It was such an intimate gesture and yet so far from what she truly wanted of him. A sigh left her, filled his mouth, when she adjusted her hips so that the heart of her was pressed against the thick muscle bunched in his thigh. It wouldn't take much. Just a look. He'd follow her into her room and they could pick up where they left off. The haze that had consumed her brain told her that it would all be okay.

Such things weren't meant to come to pass. She was sure that they would move for her door when something thin and rope like tightened down around her wrist. The same thing must have happened to Doyle, because he pulled away at almost that exact moment. He didn't go far, though, leaving her confused. Was he simply pausing for breath. Then she noted that he was looking up at a spot over her head. Viola turned and found that fingers of ivy had twined around their wrists, holding them bound together. And as if that wasn't bad enough, tiny white blossoms had opened on the vines. The sweet scent of jasmine flooded the air immediately around them.

Her eyes went wide. What could the sithen be thinking? She didn't need Doyle asking questions about such an event. Anyone with half a brain would be able to figure out what it meant. As if sensing her distress, the vines loosened their hold on her wrists. She found herself capable of pulling away from Doyle. She turned and almost ran to her door.

Had she not been in such a hurry, she might have seen the speculative gleam in his eyes as he studied the intricate web of ivy that had grown up around them. She might have noticed that the section of the wall behind her back had gone from dirt to the smooth, glossy surface of that same marble she'd seen outside Fflur's rooms. She might have taken note that his mind was already considering what this might all mean.

But she saw none of this. Instead, she ran for her room and hurried to lock herself behind the door. Soft light lit the interior of her quarters, showing her that it was empty. As it always was. Any other night, she might have lamented that fact. For tonight, she was glad that no one was there to see her panic.

What was the sithen doing? She and the others had only just arrived there. How could it already be putting to action whatever plans it had made for her and the rest of her friends? Was it acting on its own? Or was this the work of Goddess? If things were happening so quickly, had they been set in motion before they had arrived here?

Viola turned the lock on her door and moved quickly to the bathroom. In the mirror, she found a face that was paler than usual. It was so pale that the green undertones stood out. She turned to look at the walls surrounding her. "You cannot do this to us."

Frowning, the Daz side of her grumbled to herself about the almost rigid structure of her speech. She'd wanted to use a contraction but it seemed as if Viola didn't use them or even know of them. "If they discover who we are..."

None shall discover who you are, child. On this you have my word.

The voice came from nowhere and everywhere all at once. She didn't need to ask to know who it belonged to. Sighing, she shook her head. "But the vines will surely tell them something strange is happening."

They will take it as a sign that Faerie is still alive. That will be enough for them.

Though she'd never felt Goddess fill the room, she knew in an instant when the presence was gone. Something in the air around her seemed off. Giving herself another look in the mirror, she studied the face that stared back at her. She felt as if the answers to the universe should have been in her eyes. Instead, they were filled with confusion and fear. And a fragile kind of hope that she didn't even want to consider.

The fact that the ivy had followed her was more than enough to tell her that she was part of the solution. Just as the ivy that had followed her three friends said that they were also part of the answer. Following that line of logic, she took the appearance of the ivy and jasmine during their kiss meant that Doyle was the one she was destined to be with. That, together, they would help shape Faerie. It hardly seemed possible, given the tumultuous past they shared.

Was she comfortable with that? She didn't know. For the time being, she was in a state of shock. Everything had happened so fast. Which made her wonder if Faerie was close to the brink than anyone knew? It seemed to her that Goddess was pushing her agenda pretty hard and fast. Had the death of Meredith and her babies struck a blow against Faerie's health? It was likely.

Mind spinning, Viola changed from her gown into something meant for sleeping. It was long and sheer, simple in its design and made to share with a partner. She had nothing in her wardrobe that was more practical. Of course, given that her wardrobe seemed to date from sometime before the Renaissance, it wasn't of major importance.

Putting out all of the lights save one candle, she crossed to the large bed and climbed up into it. An admiring glance took in the tree trunks that stood sentry at each corner. They were as big around as a California redwood and carved with the faces of sprites and pixies and animals. Whimsical and yet sad.

Tucking herself under the covers, Viola couldn't stop the yawn that came. It had been a very long, very trying day. All she wanted to do was sleep and put aside thoughts of Goddess and the sithen and slithering, snake like vines of ivy that caressed her skin.

But when sleep claimed her and pulled her under, she found herself dreaming of Goddess and the sithen and slithering, snake like vines of ivy that caressed her skin. And she found herself dreaming of Doyle, his dark skin bare and pressed against her own as he did wicked things to her.

She slept deep and long and never noticed the small patch of marble that had emerged from the stone that made up the walls of her quarters.

~*~*~*~*~

"There really is no reason to escort me all the way back to my rooms, Frost. I can manage on my own," she insisted. His only response was to tighten his hold on her, as if he was afraid she'd run away from him. Sighing she resigned herself to allowing him his chivalrous act. She thought she might get lost in the never ending maze of halls if she stopped paying attention. Not that it mattered, as her companion seemed to know exactly where he was going.

"You were not yourself earlier, Astarte. I wished to ensure that you reached the safety of your rooms unharmed."

She would have told him that she could make it on her own, but the pain in her belly said otherwise. If he was to let go of her, she'd be moving so slowly that a snail would have beaten her up the corridor. She needed to get back to her rooms as quickly as possible, without drawing attention to herself. Perhaps she shouldn't have opened her mouth, but no doubt he'd have thought something amiss if she failed to suggest she was capable of getting around on her own.

"A momentary lapse," she replied airily, hoping he wouldn't see it as the lie it was. It hadn't been a lapse. It had been total and utter confusion. She hoped that he wouldn't question her again about why she'd been where he'd found her with no clothes on because she still had no answer to give him. She still didn't know why she'd been face down in the dirt. She had no memory of coming to be there. None at all. In fact, the last thing she recalled was picking a gown to wear to the meal in the hall.

"Do you have such lapses often?" The question was polite and solicitous, but she saw it for what it really was. He was trying to determine if there was truly something wrong with her. She almost shook her head in the negative, but it was still kind of fuzzy from earlier.

"No. I believe this is the first."

"If it continues, you should perhaps seek the help of Fflur."

"Of course."

She was glad that they fell to silence because she found she needed all of her concentration to put one foot in front of the other. Her legs felt like lead and her stomach burned. More than once, she almost tripped and earned herself a sharp glance from her escort. She turned what she hoped was a bright smile his way and held her tongue still.

When they reached her door, Frost released his hold of her. That allowed her to turn and look him. She plastered a smile upon her face, one she hoped looked sincere. "Thank you for seeing me to my rooms. I'm sure you have much better things to do than play nursemaid."

He returned her smile with one of his own. It looked as if it had cost him to do so. "It is my duty to see that you are returned safely to your rooms, Astarte. These are dangerous times. It would have been easy for someone to bring harm to you in your condition."

She wanted to argue with him that she was fine, but he'd know it for a lie. She hadn't been fine when he'd found her. How he'd even found her was a mystery. It wasn't as if she'd been in a common area. Had she? The truth was, she didn't really know. Things were still kind of messed up and, sadly, it had nothing to do with the virus dropping her into the middle of hot, sexy Faerieville. She wanted to tell him that her condition could be cured with a little bit of action, but that wasn't what came out when she opened her mouth. "I appreciate the concern. No doubt a good night's sleep will see me right as rain come the morning. Thank you."

Whatever he said was lost as she noticed a tiny patch of green behind him. Giving her attention over to whatever it was, she was surprised to find that a single finger of ivy had followed their path up the corridor to her room. Leaves rustled softly in a breeze that she knew wasn't there, the end of the living rope coiling and uncoiling as it waited for something to happen. What was a single vine doing following them? And why hadn't she noticed it before now?

"Astarte? Is something amiss?" Frost's voice drew her away from her thoughts. She returned her attention to his face to see that the concern had deepened. When she didn't answer him right away, he turned to look at what she'd been staring at. She noticed that one hand curled around the hilt of his sword. A sword she hadn't even noticed before now. But there was nothing for him to see. No lingering trail of greenery and no would be assassin creeping up behind them. Frost turned back to her, his expression filled with even more worry. "Are you certain you're well?"

"I believe I should go in and lie down. Thank you again for your help, Frost. Good night." She hurried into her room so that she could hide behind the thick wooden panel of the door. If she was lucky, he wouldn't insist on coming inside to check on her. She waited, back pressed against the door for what felt like ages. Finally, when she was sure that he wasn't going to barge in on her, she peeled herself off of the door and slowly made her way toward her bathroom.

Each step made the fire burn hotter and higher. By the time she staggered into the smaller chamber, she was nearly doubled over with the pain. The chemise was hard to remove because lifting her arms made her stomach burn even more. In the end, she tugged it off her shoulders and pulled it down her body until it dropped to the floor. A full length mirror showed a raw looking slice across her abdomen. It dribbled blood sluggishly, leaving her wondering how the crimson liquid hadn't soaked through the dirty chemise. She also had to wonder how the blood hadn't run down her legs or dripped onto the floor and caught someone's attention. The skin around the wound was an angry red.

Just what the hell had happened?

Since no answer was forth coming, she pushed the question out of her mind and started for the shower with determination. The first thing she needed to do was clean the dirt from her skin and the wound. Once that was done, she would treat it with a healing salve and bandage it. Perhaps in the morning, it would be better healed and she would be able to move easier.

Her head swam as she stepped into the glass enclosed shower. The water stung when it washed over the open wound. From what she could see, it wasn't a very deep wound, but then again, she'd never had such a wound and couldn't be sure. All she did know was that it had to be a good sign that her guts weren't spilling out.

Starr reached for the soap with one hand. It took her four tries to actually close her fingers around it. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on what she was doing. Maybe if she took a few seconds to catch her breath, it would be easier to get herself cleaned up. That thought in mind, she leaned up against the cool blue tile of the shower stall. It felt good against her face, leading her to wonder if she was running a fever. The part of her brain that was Lady tried to remember if the Fae got sick and ran fevers. Any knowledge she had about the world had long ago left her, washed away like the water that swirled down the drain at her feet. Feet that seemed a long distance off.

Maybe she should sit down...

~*~

"Starr? Can you hear me?" The voice came from a distance, though it seemed to grow closer with each syllable. "Astarte? What's happened? Starr?" A gentle tap against her cheek saw her eyelids fluttering open. A single blue eye was watching her with intense concern while water pelted down around them. The weight of it had pulled the curls out of snow white hair. She wondered briefly why he hadn't shut the water off before trying to rouse her. The owner of that face and hair was known to her but she found she was having trouble finding the name. When he saw her looking at him, the tension in his face eased slightly. "Starr?"

His hands helped her sit up, bringing a wince of pain to her face. Ah, yes. The wound in her belly. Some part of her brain suggested that she should be concerned that he was seeing her like this. The rest of her couldn't be bothered to care. The tile of the wall was cold against her back. "You've gotten your clothes wet," she got out before biting off a curse. The water was sliding into the wound again, bringing the stinging back to life in the blink of an eye.

"My clothes will dry. I'm more concerned about you." He was. She could hear it in his voice. A glance showed her that his gaze was focused on her belly. "What happened to you?"

She stared down at the wound and frowned. "I honestly do not know."

Like Frost, he frowned at her reply. But he said nothing. Instead, he rose to his feet so that he could shut off the water. "Can you get to your feet if you take my hand?"

"I can try." She held her hand out toward him. He took it in his and gave a pull. The force saw her hissing in pain, prompting him to drop her hand.

"I think I should pick you up. This will hurt, but only for a few moments." It was a warning and a promise rolled up into one. Nodding, she did her best to steel herself for the coming pain. Uncaring that she was wet, he leaned down and slipped one arm behind her back just under her shoulders while the other caught her under the crook of her knees. Even that small movement jarred her into gritting her teeth. When he rose, he took her with him. And the pain exploded under her skin.

She was glad he carried her from the bathroom into the main area of her rooms. She didn't think she'd have been able to manage it on her own. He bypassed the nearest chair in favor of the big bed that dominated the room. The wood was black with four arms rising toward the ceiling. They supported a canopy of darkest blue velvet spotted with small silver star bursts. The comforter matched, right down to a dotting of stars. The pillows were encased in spun silver.

She would have protested, but she had no breath to do so. And all she could think of doing was working through the pain. So the moment her head touched the softness of the pillow, her eyes slipped closed and she attempted to do just that.

She heard vague sounds of motion in the background, the sounds of feet treading softly against the plush carpeting that covered the floor. No doubt he was looking for something with which to tend to her belly. There was something about the wound that she should recall, something important. But her brain was sluggish, no doubt a sign that she'd been bleeding for quite some time.

"Starr? Open your eyes and look at me." The touch of his hand brought her eyes open again. "Stay awake. Stay with me."

"Rhys?" The name swam up out of the murk. He offered her a smile even while his hands were busy with something. She would have looked to see, but she couldn't seem to pull her gaze from his. "What happened?"

"I found you passed out in the shower. I think that's supposed to be my question." The words lacked his usual warmth and humor. She watched as his hands drifted toward her belly, fingers intent on probing the wound. They hesitated, hovering just over the gash that still leaked blood. She pondered at that for a moment until another name rose to the surface of her brain. Cromm Cruach. An image of blood soaking into his pure white skin followed it.

The hesitation faded in only seconds as he began smoothing a thick salve around the edges of the wound. She flinched, hissing with pain while her muscles contracted at his touch. "How did this happen?"

"I told you. I do not know." His hands stilled as he looked up at her. She could see that he didn't believe her. "Why did you come here tonight? We weren't supposed to meet, were we? I thought you had other plans."

"Plans have changed," he told her before beginning a second round of applying salve. There was something in his voice that answered her question for him.

"Frost came to you, didn't he?" When he said nothing, she heaved a sigh and closed her eyes. "He should have left you alone. I will be fine."

"How long ago did you receive this wound, Starr?"

She didn't understand the reason behind the question but she answered him anyway. No doubt he would ask until she did so. "I cannot recall."

"Frost told me he found you in one of the garden rooms. He was concerned by your prolonged confusion. He told me you couldn't recall his name. He said you seemed lost and had no explanation for why he found you where he did, wearing little more than an undergarment. I spoke with Fflur and she assured me that there was nothing wrong."

"So you come see whether this is true or not for yourself?" He applied himself more intently to his task. It was plain to see he didn't believe her. Not that she really blamed him. The few explanations that she did have were so far fetched that she knew he wouldn't believe them. And she couldn't very well tell them to him anyway. He'd think she was crazy. The things he wanted answers to were things she couldn't answer because she didn't know them anymore than he did.

She pondered letting the silence stretch between them. Truth be told, she was tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep. It was a luxury she was sure she wouldn't be afforded. Rhys likely had many questions for her that would come bubbling out sooner or later. Until that time, she was going to try and rest up. Her head still felt as if it were full of cotton and the fiery pain under her skin had crawled from her belly up into her chest and down into her toes. She felt... worn out. Used.

He was wrapping bandages around her belly when he next spoke. "How long have you had the wound, Starr?"

She had to drag herself away from sleep. It had been trying to entice her into its arms. Opening her eyes, she found him watching her carefully. He was looking for the lie in her gaze. "I honestly do not know. Likely since before Frost found me." She hadn't seen it but she was certain by the way her stomach had cramped that she'd had it then.

"So for more than an hour." His expression was filled with worry. "Starr, that wound should have started healing before now. If it had been made by a sword of Faerie, you wouldn't even have a scar. But it doesn't look as if it has even started healing. Which means it was made by cold iron."

"Perhaps," she sighed, her gaze taking in the swath of white bandages that covered her belly. He'd done a decent job of covering the wound. Maybe tomorrow it would be healed up. Rhys rose to his feet and paced to a large armoire pushed against the wall near the door. He tugged the doors open, then pulled one of the drawers in the center of the interior out. His hand dipped in, only to come away with a pale, silvery blue night dress. "The truth of the matter is, I do not know how I came to possess such a wound."

"There is an assassin in the sithen, Starr. You shouldn't go wandering on your own. I believe you are incredibly lucky to have come away with such a minor wound. You could have been killed."

Rhys returned to her side and helped her slip the garment over her head. It hurt when he pulled her into a sitting position, but she wasn't going to be able to put it on any other way. The moment the gown was settled around her body, he slowly lowered her back to the bed. The pillows were mounded beneath her head so that she was propped at an incline. A little more maneuvering saw her tucked under the blankets. The softness of her bed loosened her tongue. "No one would mourn my loss, Rhys. The you know how they feel about me here."

"I would mourn your loss, Starr. Or do I no longer count?"

She waved a hand tiredly. "You know that is not what I mean. None living within the Unseelie sithen would think my death a loss. None but you."

"And that is beside the point, Astarte. There is a murderer on the loose. For some reason, no one has been able to catch this person. Even the sithen seems unable to do so. It would... " He shook his head, sending the wet clumps of his hair into motion. "I do not think I could survive your loss so close to Merry's death."

It always came back to her, didn't it? Heaving a sigh, Starr closed her eyes and turned her face away from him. "I know that you loved her, Rhys. There is no reason to drive the knife of your affection into my heart."

"Starr..." His words faltered when she turned onto her side and presented him with her back. She was tired. She wanted him to go away. She didn't want to think about where his heart lay. She didn't want to think about how it might have been her whom he regarded with tenderness. She didn't want to do anything but shut the world out and sleep. Closing her eyes, she hoped he would take it as a hint to leave.

It wasn't to be. She could hear the sound of wet cloth releasing its hold upon firm skin, heard the plopping sound his clothing made as he dropped it onto the floor in the bathroom. There was a distinctive rattle of a belt buckle. She didn't need him to babysit. She didn't need him to pity her because she had yet to forgive him for things that had happened in her past. In their past. Feeling a kind of panic slide through her, she tried to turn over so that her back was to him once again. But it wasn't to be. The wound and her exhaustion made moving clumsy. Eyes flying open in a panic, she found she hadn't even made it to her back when he stepped from the bathroom.

The golden light of the candles that burned in glass encased lanterns caressed the lines of his body, playing across every muscle and plane. He was sculpted of perfection. She found that the scars enhanced his beauty and didn't detract from it one bit. His one good eye was fixed on her, a hint of the passion they'd shared on more than one occasion easy to see in its depths. "I am too tired, Rhys," she said as she fought off a yawn.

"I have no plans other than to hold you while you sleep, Starr. I have no wish to cause you anymore pain than you already feel." Some small spark of life in her brain told her that he meant more than physical pan.

"You should go find a Lady of the court to spend your nights with. Not some half breed creature like me."

He lifted the covers and slid in next to her. "You are a Lady of the court. And I have no where that I would rather be than right here. With you." His hands were gentle when they took hold of her and slowly turned her until she lay on her other side with her back to him. They were just as gentle when he pulled her against him, his chest pressed against her back. One of his arms wound itself around her carefully, holding her to him in such a tender manner that she felt like breaking out in tears.

"I have no wish to lose you, Starr. I belong here. With you." His mouth pressed tiny kisses against the pale column of her throat. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body forgetting the dull throb of pain for just a moment in the face of his tender caresses.

Her hand acted of its own volition, reaching silently for his hand laying limp against the mattress so that she could press it to the curve of one breast hidden under the silk of her night dress. His breath plumed across the back of her neck in a gust as her action tightened his muscles in response. "Starr?"

"Slowly, Rhys. Gently. I need... I need you." And she did. She needed to know that, even if it was for just this moment in time, he cared about her. That he wanted and needed her. She trusted that he wouldn't hurt her. She knew that he could be a tender lover. She just wanted him.

"Are you sure?" His mouth was against her ear, his body inching closer and closer to hers. The hand that she'd pressed to her breast had already floated lower and was presently pulling the length of her night dress up to her waist. She said nothing. Instead she nodded, body falling into the thick, pulsing throb of need that always came when he touched her. "I have no wish to hurt you."

"You won't. I know you won't."

His mouth began raining down kisses that covered her shoulder, neck and cheek. At the same time, his one hand worked at tugging the night dress up and down until it was bunched about her waist, leaving her breasts and the juncture at her thighs bared. His fingers delved between her legs, found the moistness that had pooled at her center. They moved with dexterity and determination, bringing her to a quick, easy climax that left her breathless.

Before she had even started recovering from his fingers' attention, his hand was carefully shifting her leg. She bit her lip to hold back the hissing breath of pain. It ended up expelled on a sigh as she felt him press into her oh so slowly.

Her eyes were rolling closed with the sensation, but a flash of green caught her attention and forced her lids back up. Thick tendrils of ivy had climbed up the post closest to her head. Dark green leaves waved gently in a breeze that she couldn't feel and the scent of some sweet flower perfumed the air.

The last thought she had before the pleasure Rhys had given her body sent her brain flying away was that Goddess approved of their relationship.

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