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Post by Threnn on Aug 26, 2008 15:05:05 GMT -5
She tried summoning the air of a queen on trial, to put on a mask that would let her get through this with her pride intact. But even that was unfair. For this, for him, she had to settle for being herself, being nothing more than Annalea al'Cair.
Still, the al'Cair women were known for their pride. She lifted her chin and waited for him to look at her.
Fingold faced her at last, blinking. "Pardon?"
Her hands were trembling. She folded them to make it stop; if she couldn't be a queen, she could at least be brave. "He told you to ask me. Do it."
"He was trying to get on my nerves, which he did. He was just refusing to say anything." He clenched his jaw. "But I'll find out what he wants, I promise."
"Because you'd have thought he was lying." Of course that's why Fane didn't say it. Fin would have dismissed it right away.
He moved to take her hand, but she pulled away. "No."
Fin dropped his eyes again. "Okay."
He still thinks I'm angry. The desire to reach for him was strong, but she held still. It would be as much comfort for her as it was reassurance for him, and that was a luxury she didn't deserve. "It's not fair."
It was a long moment before he spoke again. When he did, the questions tumbled out reluctantly. "Why is he following you? What does he want from you? Anna, the man is mad. I don't expect his 'reasons' to make much sense. But I had to know."
She shook her head. "He's not mad. Unless you mean in the sense of angry." She sighed. "His hand. I did that. I don't think he had proof before."
He blinked at her. "The... claw?" At her nod, one hand went to his brow. "The book. I am an idiot."
"You're not an idiot."
"All right, I am sure he deserved it. Claw or not, I'm not letting him harm you. That animal got off easy if it's only his hand."
"Wasn't supposed to be just his hand."
"He better be thankful, then." Fin's breath caught as something new came to him. "Anna. Your apartment. It is not safe anymore. I know you're mad at me, but please stay at my new apartment."
He's still not getting it. "I'm not mad at you."
When he tried again for her hand, she let him take it. "Annalea al'Cair. You are too damn nice to me." He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her fingers.
"No, I'm not. Fin, I can't take that offer."
"Too close to your apartment? All right, let me see what I can find further away."
"No."
"Anna. Please don't stay at your apartment. At least not for now."
I can't just take his kindness. "It's not right. You don't know what I did."
"You mangled his hand. Fuckin' bastard deserved more."
"More than that. What led up to it. I guess in a sense I've been lying from the start. And now it's put you in just as much danger. I can't do that."
He held her hand firmly. "Anna, you haven't lied. There was no reason to mention this bastard until now. Hell, you didn't even know I was watching him until now."
"There was every reason. I just got selfish." Too late to turn back now. "Do you know who he works for?"
"Some Noble stationed at Honor Hold. Lord Fairfax, I think."
""Danyll Fairfax, yeah. One of the Stormwind houses. They'll protect him."
"I don't care who he works for. I'm not gonna let him harm you. They can protect him. I'll protect you. He better think twice before trying anything. He could be the King himself..."
He let the statement go unfinished as she shook her head. "He doesn't have to send a single knife after me. Just whisper in the right ears."
"That animal won't touch you."
Anna smiled. "You're kind. But you can't fix this."
"Whispers I don't mind, as long as they don't come from a blade. What do you mean?"
With her free hand, she dipped the tip of her finger into her wine and circled it around the rim of her glass. It rang mournfully into the silence stretching between them. "I mean I've done some stupid things, and they're coming back to bite me now."
"Anna, I'm sure you had every reason to do what you did." He sighed, then his eyes went wide. "He... he tried to take advantage of you, didn't he? That's what he did. I've seen him stare at bards. God damned animal."
He thinks Fane...? She suppressed a shudder. "No. He..."
"Anna, I know you did only what was right. It's not right that you are now threatened for defending yourself."
"You deserve to know. And it's not right that you're defending a girl you shouldn't have looked at twice."
"I know now. You tried to kill him but only managed to wreck his hand."
"Listen --"
Fin rolled his eyes and cut her off. "I don't care you tried to kill him. I'm still going to look at you more than twice."
She leaned in, whispering fiercely. "Do you care that I did kill someone else?"
That shut him up, but only for a second. "Somebody else attacked you?"
"No. I... Damn it."
"Anna I know you wouldn't even consider doing something like that if it wasn't absolutely necessary and well deserved."
"I should have let it go. Like I was supposed to. Like anyone else would have. Listen to me." Perhaps hearing the urgency in her tone, Fingold obeyed, fixing his eyes on hers. It made it all the harder to say what had to come next, but she looked straight at him while she spoke. "I... I took Danyll Fairfax to my bed. I never thought I'd see him again. And then a few weeks later, I didn't bleed."
"The... the Lord who Fane works fo--"
She couldn't look at him anymore. He had, several times, made his views on the nobility quite clear. What would he think of her now, not simply singing to them on occasion, but bedding one? Bedding one and getting knocked up with his bastard. Don't sugar-coat it for yourself - he's going to be repulsed. "So I went to him. Not for money, not for anything. I only thought it was fair he knew."
She went through the rest carefully, telling him the things she'd kept to herself for over two years, now: Fane and Hartwell coming to the Lion's Pride, the dinner with Fairfax, the tea. He looked more and more confused during the telling, trying to make sense of her story. She looked away, as she came to the end of that night, her voice distant. "There was dreamfoil in my food to make me sleep. The tea was for the baby. To kill it. Danyll turned his back when they told him what was wrong with me."
"They poisoned you? That Lord had you poisoned?"
"He didn't know. His men did it, but he let it happen."
Fingold grunted. "Goddamned fucking nobility. Fane poisoned you, then."
"They brought me back to Stormwind. Left me on the shop's porch. Hartwell gave me goldthorn, to wake me up. It... it probably saved my life. I made it to Threnny's. She was living where I live now." I remember the moonlight, and the Cathedral bells. That's all, and it's a mercy.
"Animals. Who is this Hartwell?" Fingold exhaled heavily.
"Hartwell's dead. Threnn doesn't know. She just thinks... thinks it was nature."
"But your... your baby."
"I lost it, Fin."
"Threnn knows about Fane and Fairfax?"
"No. Just the baby. She doesn't know anything else."
"Oh, she didn't know you were pregnant?"
"Not until I showed up bleeding." Annalea sighed raggedly. I was going to tell her. That day. Her birthday. "It'd hurt her too much to know. And who's going to believe my word against theirs? I couldn't go to the guards; I had no proof."
"Poisoned, overseen by that damn Lord. Fucking Fane had it easy. They tried to kill you."
"And I tried to kill them. Should've been over. But I saw him in Shattrath, and I just got so angry."
"That damned bastard. And a lord let this all happen. No wonder the kingdom's in the state it is."
"That's your girl, Fin. Not some upstanding merchant's daughter."
"My girl did what was bloody right. You should've killed him. But I guess the Light is too merciful."
Say it. Say what he's going to be thinking a week from now, when all this has had time to sink in. Make him see it now, get it over with. "Little better than a cultured whore. And a murderer to boot."
"Anna, don't call yourself that. You're as upstanding a woman as I've met. If anybody's reputation should suffer is that lordling bastard."
"You shouldn't be courting me. It's only going to bring you to harm. I shouldn't have let you talk to my mother. Hell. I shouldn't have encouraged Ilarra."
"What? What the nether are you talking about?"
"Come on, Fin, think about it. They know, by now. They have their proof."
"What are they going to do?"
"I can't hurt Danyll. Nobles getting girls knocked up just proves that they can. So if his wife turns out barren, they know it's not his fault. Doesn't hurt him one bit. But me? He whispers that in the Guild's ear and my name's ruined. My parents'll be all right. They survived what happened to Threnny last year. You, though. You wouldn't. You're not established."
"I'll manage."
She shook her head. "I'm Thenia al'Cair's daughter, Fin." She squeezed his hand to take some of the sting out of her next words: "I know your price."
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Post by Threnn on Aug 27, 2008 19:28:01 GMT -5
"People never tell you what they truly want, deep down in their hearts. It gives you an advantage over them. But if you watch carefully, if you listen to what they say, what they don't say, and what other people say about them, you can find out.
"And you can use that to your own advantage."
It was one of their mother's oldest lessons, first taught to her daughters when Anna was no more than ten. Threnn was thirteen, old enough to take on bigger responsibilities in the shop than sweeping and sorting fabric. Thenia al'Cair was a great believer in effiency in all things; if one of her girls received a lesson, the other learned it, too. That way she wouldn't have to waste time repeating it later.
This particular lesson was twofold. On its surface, it was useful advice for helping customers and navigating the murky political waters of the Merchants' Guild.
For instance, if Lady Bannon talked on and on how pretty the blue silk was, all the while eyeing and stroking the pricier dove grey mageweave, a good saleswoman should see that, and know how to gently suggest the more expensive purchase. An exceptional saleswoman could get her to buy both.
And at meetings, at balls, or even in other shops around Stormwind, they'd be listening to what the other merchants were saying, feeling for the undercurrents of conversations. You could learn so much when people thought no one else was paying attention - rivalries, rumors, what to buy cheap now because the prices would go up in a month. Both girls grew quickly adept at it.
But underneath, Thenia was laying the foundation for another lesson. Threnn was old enough to begin acting like a lady rather than a tomboy. In a year or two, it would be time to start thinking about making a match for her. That meant learning to pay attention to what her suitors said, what they expected of her, what they hoped to gain from a marriage, and listening for what they left out. She intended Threnn and Anna to use this skill to make wise choices.
And sometimes, to use it as a weapon. "Every man has a price," she'd tell them -- something he wanted so deeply, he'd give up everything else to have that one thing. If you could find a way to provide it for him, Thenia said, he'd do anything you asked.
Threnn scowled and stalked off every time Thenia brought it up as they grew older, vehemently rejecting the notion of ever using that tactic for herself. Anna, though, had stayed behind with her mother.
And learned.
Fingold looked up at her now, thrown by her declaration. "Pardon?"
"I told you. The thing you want most in the world. The thing that's most important. Yours is a damned good one."
"...and what would that be?"
She smiled and brushed her thumb across his knuckles. "Your family. In Stromgarde. The Guild's worse than wolves. Run on the wrong side of them, you'll never save enough to get them out of there. I'm not going to endanger that. I won't."
He blinked. "I have been working to get my sister out of there without the Guild's help so far."
"But they'll make it easier. Sooner."
Fin shook his head. "Sure, it will help. But I don't need them. And I am certainly not selling you out. I am not them." He scowled.
"No, I didn't mean that you would. Just that... it's not right. You thought I was someone else."
"Anna, I still like you. You also thought I was someone else, if we go by your standards."
"Not true."
"What? I didn't know you were pregnant and nearly assassinated." She winced, but he kept going. "Women get pregnant everywhere. And about the assasination, well... We'll see what we do about it."
"There's nothing to be done. It was more than two years ago."
"Well, Fane doesn't seem to agree about the naught to be done."
"Because I picked the fight!" A few of the other patrons turned to look; sometimes she forgot how well she could project her voice after years of signing. Anna glared until they turned away again.
Fin's voice rose to meet hers. "He bloody damn well deserved it." Eyebrows raised at the other tables, but none were foolish enough to stare openly.
Counting to three, she brought her volume back down to a murmur. Shouting her crimes to the whole Exodar wouldn't make him understand. "You lied to protect me. I lied... hell. Because I wanted to give this a chance." And now that chance is gone. He'll leave within the week.
"I'm glad you did."
"Because I thought maybe it'd never come up. And then I went and messed it all up."
Fingold squeezed Anna's hand. "Whatever you think you messed up, well... we'll figure it out."
She hung her head. "I'm sorry."
"Also, don't tell me again that I shouldn't court you or whatever nonsense you said. Bloody nonsense. You are Annalea al'Cair. Daughter of well-off merchants. I'm a twice orphaned man with no property and a starting business."
"There's no shame in that. None at all..."
"I'm sure some may think I'm with you because you're set to inherit the al'Cair business."
"You'd still have my mother's backing. I'd make sure of it."
"What I mean is, if anything, I'm the one suspect to matching above his station. But I'll prove my worth. I promise. With or without those wolves at the Merchan'ts Guild."
"You're already proven it to me. I'm the one that comes up lacking."
Fingold smiled. "There you go again. Stop badmouthing my girl. I do not appreciate it." His sigh came right on top of hers. "So... what do we do now? Besides, you know, no more secrets. I give you my word."
She hesitated only a moment before nodding her assent. "No more."
"I should tell you. Please don't be mad at her. Threnn, she knows about Fane. Well, she knows it's him you fought. And that he works for Fairfax. And that I've been watching him."
Annalea wilted a little.
"...also." Fingold hung his head.
"Also?"
"Well, Cylinn told us you were restless the night after the fight. She told Threnn and I. She was concerned, but that's all she knows."
"Figured she would've. She hounded me for an hour."
"I have only spoken to Threnn about this. But I didn't tell her about my encounter with Fane. Please don't be mad at her. We were just trying to keep you safe. I swear, nobody else knows a word of any of this."
"I know," she sighed. "I know you were." She covered her mouth in dismay. "Oh, sweet blessed bloody fucking Elune, I'm going to have to tell her."
"Tell her about... what happened before?"
Annalea nodded. "I'm not thinking about that tonight. Too much."
"Aye. We'll worry about that later."
"I don't know what we do now."
"You think that bastard will seek revenge? You think he'll go after you?"
"Wouldn't you? If someone ruined your career and you finally had evidence?"
The thought of it brought him back to what he'd asked earlier. "Anna please, don't go back to your apartment just now. If you don't want to stay at my place, fine."
"No, I... I do. I'm still having a hard time believing you want me to stay."
"I won't let him hurt you." Fingold squeezed Anna's hand. "I'm still having a hard time believing you want me to stay. I already had over five good reasons you shouldn't walk away from me, you know." Fingold smiled.
"Oh?"
"I'd been lying to you since, what? Our second date? Bloody brilliant way to start, aye?"
"Considering I was leaving things out since our first? Since before it?"
Fingold grinned wickedly. "You really think I wouldn't have gone out with you, had I known you were pregnant two years ago? Anna, if I limited myself to chaste women. I'd be a bachelor for life."
"More that..." She looked down at the table. "Most of my relationships were like that one. I don't even think you can call them relationships, can you?"
"Well, whatever you choose to call them."
"Hardly even qualify as flings."
"Well, yes. I didn't know that. But, it doesn't change who you are, Anna."
"It doesn't paint me in the best of lights."
"Well, I knew you were happier around shadows." He grinned, proud of his pun. She sighed at him, but the corners of her lips twitched. "Anything else you haven't told me? Because I'm still very much intent in courting you."
"I think that's everything. You?"
"I've thrown up outside the Pig more than once."
She snickered. "Hell, who hasn't?"
They grinned at each other, then Fin caught the serving girl's eye and signalled that they were finished. The two remained silent as the draenei came over quickly to take their plates. Once she'd bustled away again, muttering about their bowls of half-eaten stew, Fin cleared his throat. "Please stay here for the night."
"Only if you're staying, too." Her heart climbed into her throat during the second it took him to answer, so afraid he'd decline. Politely, of course. It wasn't in his nature to be rude.
"If you don't mind."
Her heart returned to where it belonged. "I'd like you to."
They stood, gathered their things, and made their way further into the inn. Pausing in the hallway that led to the guest rooms, Fin took her hand. "So, you are not mad? Remember, no lies."
"I'm not mad. You're not horrified?"
Fingold quietly snickered to himself. "Not at all."
"I think that makes us okay, then."
"You don't know how relieved I am," he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead.
Annalea slipped an arm around his waist. "I think maybe I do."
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Post by Threnn on Sept 3, 2008 15:28:39 GMT -5
Take a getaway. Stranglethorn or summat, see the waterfalls, punch out a goblin pirate.
An' maybe when yeh get back yeh kin tell me what the real trouble is.
It was still new, waking up with Fingold beside her. The weight of his arm resting on her waist, the warmth of his skin against hers, the tickle on the back of her neck as he breathed, deep in sleep - she lay there, listening to sound of gulls and waves drifting in through the open window, trying to get used to the feeling of someone else in her bed.
It wasn't really her bed, though. This room was as much Fingold's as it was hers, paid for by the stipend Tarquin had forked over when he insisted she take a few days off.
Yeh oughta take a vacation, Anna. Lookin' tense o' late.
Of course she looked tense. Aumery Fane knew where she lived. He had her book. It was only a matter of time now, until... What? What would he do? How would she --
Fingold shifted in his sleep and she guiltily pushed the thought away. He'd made her promise before they left Stormwind that she wouldn't worry the next few days, but here she was, worrying. She'd extracted the same promise from him as well, but it had been a challenge for both of them.
Tarq had likely noticed her caginess because there wasn't a single scrap of unopened mail on his desk. It would be piling up back home, she knew, but she had a feeling throwing herself into catching up wouldn't deter Tarquin's questions. If she balked too much, he'd make good on his threat to set fire to the desk, and then she'd be out of excuses.
And once Tarquin knew, she'd have to tell Threnn.
Not thinking about that. She sat up, Fingold's hand falling away as she slipped out of bed. Gathering a silk robe around herself, Anna sat in the chair by the window and stared out to sea. The salt breeze felt good on her skin. Sailors hauled their cargo on and off the ships and shouted to one another across the decks.
Almost two weeks had gone by since she and Fin had sat down in the Exodar. He'd defied her predictions, staying with her when she'd been so sure he'd leave, accompanying her on this forced vacation when surely he had important things that needed to get done in Stormwind. Why?
It was her sister's exasperated voice that answered. Because it's possible for someone to care about you, Anna. It's possible for someone to be in it for more than the sake of bedding you. Why is it so hard to believe that?
It was the speech Threnn gave her after Quinn Laughlin. They'd started seeing one another during the Harvest Festival, two months after her visit to the Slaughtered Lamb. He'd come around twice a week to take her out, had stopped by at the end of Winter Veil to have dinner with Thenia and Padraig, and carried steaming plates across Stormwind for her to bring to Threnn at the Rose while Bricu dreamed his troubled dreams.
He'd never complained that she wouldn't take him to her bed, never pressed her for the reason she refused to go near the Mage Quarter, and yet, when the year turned she'd called it off. Because she was afraid of his fondness for her turning into love.
So, what now? She drew her knees up to her chest and looked over at Fin. Even in his sleep, he looked worried. Maybe burying his concern during their waking hours only meant it came back double when he closed his eyes. They'd spent the last few days walking the shore, picking up seashells, enjoying the sun. At night they'd gone to the Salty Sailor and drank plenty of ale, joining in with the sailors and dockworkers when the tavern songs started and stumbling up to their room when the bartender finally declared last call.
But keeping one another too busy to worry only worked for so long. Their stay was at its end. By evening, they'd be back in Stormwind, where old worries waited, and new ones wore friendly faces - how would Tarquin take the revelation?
How would Threnn?
Below, a goblin paused in his hustling to wolf-whistle. Anna peeked out, and sure enough, he waved a pudgy green hand up at her. "Come on down here, sweetie, and I'll show ya why they call me Three-Finger Jack!"
She rolled her eyes and closed the window, but not before showing the goblin an unladylike gesture. It only served to send him into fits of laughter.
The commotion had awakened Fin. He sat up slowly, bleary-eyed, raising his hands to cradle his head. "Anna...?"
"Right here."
"How much did we drink last night?" He pulled his hands away from his face and winced, flexing them slowly. "Damned burns."
"Here, let me see." Anna retrieved her herb pouch and carried it to the bed. Fin took the stem of Dreaming Glory she offered him for his aching head and watched as she examined his hands. "Getting better," she said, pulling a tiny jar of salve from the pouch.
Whatever kind of magic had held that damned gem of Bricu's together had caused some kind of backlash when it was destroyed. The Sin'dorei priest, Destril, had looked exhausted when its power was broken. And after dropping the emerald husk into the Hand of Gul'dan, Bricu had passed out astride his nether ray, forcing poor Fells to wrangle it to the ground. He'd stayed unconscious until they had him home in the Rose, and Threnn said he hadn't slept a wink since. That was a week ago.
Fin had been there, too, keeping himself between Anna and the gem as best he could. She probably wasn't supposed to notice him doing it, but she'd kept quiet about it. When it let off its dying burst of energy, Fin had raised his hands instinctually. He'd kept the injury to himself most of the way home, concentrating on getting Bricu back to Threnn, but when he'd removed his gauntlets that night, Anna heard his wince of pain. His hands were red and swollen, as though he'd tried picking up a hot skillet without a potholder. Shadowburns.
The salve she had was for regular burns, but it seemed to help. "If I had my way, you'd have half an inch of this stuff on and your hands in bandages for three days."
"I can't," he said. "My gemwork." She sighed at him. He changed the subject swiftly before she could argue. "You have freckles."
"Yeah, I forgot my sunhat yesterday." I'm buying a bucket of lemons when we get home.
"I like them. You should forget it again today."
"We're going home today."
"Aye, but we can have breakfast outside. Then one last walk on the beach. Without your hat. Then we'll go home." Careful not to get the salve in her hair, Fin put his arms around her and leaned in for a kiss.
Maybe the lemons could wait a day or two.
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Post by Threnn on Sept 5, 2008 8:16:11 GMT -5
Annalea was used to having an audience. She was used to having men watch her every move, hanging on to every note. Keeping a crowd's attention was part of being a bard. But the songs she sang were about other people, and the men were passing travelers or tavern regulars.
This time, the tale was her own, the men watching were her brother-in-law and her boss, and she didn't have a pretty melody to soften the words. She'd nearly fled when Bricu first came in, dropping into a chair and kicking his boots up on the table. But Threnn wasn't with him and Anna'd already steeled herself to tell Tarquin. Better that Bricu hear this rendition, then. The one she'd tell her sister would be all the harder.
At least Tarquin was keeping her glass topped off with bourbon.
Fin arrived as she came to the night Fane and Hartwell poisoned her. Without a word, he claimed the chair beside hers and reached for her hand under the table. His presence made the telling easier; Bricu and Tarquin both kept their faces carefully neutral as she spoke, giving her no way to read how they felt about what she was telling them. Fin muttered under his breath about the nobility.
Tarquin sat, smoking and listening, until she described how she slipped the fire oil into Merrock Hartwell's whiskey and ruined Fane's hand. Then, and only then, did he react. "I hired the lass did fer Fats Hartwell," he said with something that might have been pride or wonder, stealing a glance at Bricu. Bricu simply took another drag from his cigarette. Tarquin reached for the bourbon and refilled Anna's glass.
When Anna's words trickled to a halt, Fingold picked up the rest, filling them in on what he'd learned about Aumery Fane and admitting that he'd... questioned the man. The other men seemed quite interested in what condition Fin had left him.
"He damaged?" asked Tarquin.
"A bit, nothing visible. He was unconscious for a bit, so I... took him aside for some questionin'."
"Hnh." Tarq caught Bricu's eye, the right side of his mouth twitching in a slight grimace.
Bricu ashed his cigarette. "Did yeh finish it or did yeh let him go?" He looked at Tarquin and shook his head slightly.
"I figured dissapearing a Lord's man might not have been a wise move."
"Mm," said Tarq. "So yeh left 'im?"
"I let him go, in the end."
"Drug 'im, hit him hard on the head?" Bricu's posture was casual, but his eyes were intent.
"The Light can shock a man quite hard," said Fin.
Tarq scratched his chin. "'Specially the deserving. Right, so. He's alive. More or less unhurt."
"Doesn't fuck up his memory 'nough," said Bricu.
Fin nodded at the boss. "He wasn't too damaged when I left him. But I made damned sure he was in pain. That soddin' animal. But aye, free in the end."
"Yeh know what dogs do when they're in pain?"
Annalea looked grimly at Bricu. "They bite."
Tarquin's fingers tapped on the table again, practically drumming. He muttered what sounded like a line of poetry to no one in particular. "'I ask you, sir, whose dog are you?'" He sat deep in thought a moment longer, ignoring the chatter that went on around the table. Coming to a decision, he shoved his glass away. "Fin. Yeh got arms an' armor here, or back at yer place?
"Back at my place, boss." Fin looked at him, questioning.
"Fuck. Aright. I'm gonna see if I kin get 'em. Yer livin' here a wee bit. I'll unlock the office. Yerself s'well, Anna. Listen," he said, raising his voice as they started to protest. "Yer Fane's a bruiser. A knifework man, most like. Anna maun s'well've took his fuckin' life awey. Twa years he's been feelin' that shite burnin'. I mislike yer chances o' scarin' him off."
"Bastard tries anythin, and I won't be half as kind as I was."
"Ayeh, an' if he's still a Fairfax man?"
Neither Fin nor Anna had an answer for that.
"Look - yer in it now, awright. An' with a damn fine reason, an' in the black an' red, so I'm with yeh. But that means keepin' safe. It'll be a lucky thing if he's no' casin' yer place aready."
Anna shook her head "I don't want anyone else in danger from this. Bad enough I've involved Fin. Hell. Probably Threnny, too, if he knows she was sniffing."
"Threnny's involved, I'm involved." Bricu took his boots off the table and stood. "Light thelp the tosser--an his boss--if he so much as lays a finger on her."
"Fuck that Anna," said Tarq. "Yeh read my bloody letters. Yeh seen what I wrote Del, an' Ulth, an' Drachmas, an' ev'ry other damn fool in this company thinks their problems're their own shite ta solve."
"It's like a group protection racket," said Bricu.
"We're classy like that."
"But more personable."
Bricu and Tarq grinned at one another, then the boss grew serious again. "Awright. Should'na be mair'n a few days, eh? Jus' gotta play a bit o' catch-up on the pissant. Once he pokes his head out his hole, well...owed another visit. Fer starters."
"One person ta pull the rat outta his whole, another to block his way out, another ta drown it," said Bricu.
Anna sighed. "Just because one hand's ruined doesn't mean he's not still dangerous, Tarq."
"Och aye." Tarquin retrieved his hat, an odd smile on his face. "That's why he's gonna die."
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Post by Threnn on Sept 11, 2008 13:53:03 GMT -5
The sun had started to dip below the horizon by the time Anna and Fin returned to Stormwind. After being cooped up in the Pig for a week, they'd needed a night away, and Lakeshire was only a half-hour's ride by air.
They strolled along the street arm in arm, heading away from the gryphons. When they drew even with the main thoroughfare, Anna looked to her left and paused. Going straight would lead them back to Old Town, where they could return to the Pig 'n' Whistle, or to either of their apartments. Turning left would bring them to the Gilded Rose.
"Anna?" Fin tried following her gaze. "Did you see something?"
"Yeah," she sighed. "The end of my good mood."
He let go of her, one hand closing over the hilt of his mace as he looked to see where the danger was. "Get behind me."
Confused, she turned back to him. "Why..." His stance and the set of his jaw made her realize how he'd interpreted her words. "Oh. No, no. I meant... I meant I should go talk to Threnny. Now, before I lose my nerve."
Fin relaxed. "It might be best, aye. She threatened to bring a broom with her next time she's at the Pig, to help persuade you to talk."
"Oh, if we're fighting with brooms, she'll lose. They're weighted differently than swords."
Fin wasn't going to let her get away with stalling. "Come on, pretty girl. Sooner we go, the sooner it's done." His hand drifted to the small of her back. Its gentle pressure was enough to get her moving.
At this hour, the middle of dinner, the Rose's common room was packed. Fin and Anna wove their way around tables of happy diners, finally reaching the stairway and bursting free of the crowd. Upstairs, it was much quieter. Anna looked longingly down the hall towards the back stairs, wishing she could keep walking, knowing she couldn't. It's long past time for this. She stopped at Threnn's door, took a deep breath, and knocked.
Maybe they won't be home, she thought, but then the door opened and Bricu was ushering them inside.
"Oi, Annie, Fin. Good ta see the two o'yeh. Threnny, yer sister's come callin'."
Threnn sat in the chair by the window, wrapping new strips of leather around an old dagger's pommel. She laid it aside and stood, smiling. "Well, now. I was starting to think you'd forgotten me."
"How could I? You're asking everyone who might bump into me to pass along your plan to drown me in the canals."
"I'd have made good on it, too, but here you are." Threnn came around to the front of the large, dark-stained oak desk that dominated the center of the room. It was covered in Bricu's papers - letters, ledgers, sketches of jewelry, books borrowed from the Stormwind library, and a few he'd removed from the towers of Karazhan and kept for himself, rather than turning them over to his employer. Threnn found a clear spot to lean against and folded her arms, waiting.
Behind Anna, Fin closed the door. Its click sounded too loud in the ensuing pause. Her sister had long since perfected the art of weighted silences. She could try to out-stubborn her, but Threnn had the upper hand this time.
She could also run.
Anna twitched half a step backwards; her back met solid resistance in the form of Fingold's chest. For a second, she wondered if she could shove him off-balance enough to make a clear path to the door. Or, if she tried darting around him, whether he'd block her way. Then his hand came up to squeeze her shoulder, and she knew it was too late to flee. "Threnny," she said at last, accepting defeat, "I need to talk to you."
Bricu and Fin exchanged a look over her head. "Yeh ever see the Rose's kitchen, Fin?"
"I've never taken a tour, no."
"Come on, I'll give yeh the grand one. Yeh still owe me a cook-off."
Fin leaned in close to Anna. "Will you be all right? I'll stay if you'd rather."
"It's okay." She turned to face him, trying to look brave. "I should do this on my own."
He nodded and bent to kiss her on the cheek, murmuring in her ear before he straightened again. "Let's go get dinner started, then, Bittertongue."
Bricu grinned. "First one Kara smiles at gets out o'peelin' potatoes."
Once they were gone, Threnn shook her head. "Fin can't win, you know. Kara adores Bricu."
"Your husband's a bloody cheater."
"What did Fin say to you, just before they left?"
Anna stammered; she hadn't been ready for the change of subject. "W-what?"
"He whispered to you. What was it?"
"N-nothing. He just gave me a kiss."
"Liar. You lit up."
"Not now, Threnny." To escape her sister's scrutiny, Anna retrieved the bottle of bourbon from her pack. She'd been holding on to it for a while now in anticipation of this talk - it was Threnn's favorite kind, but the alcohol was as much for Anna's having to tell the story as it was for Threnn having to hear it. "You want to listen to what I have to say, or would you rather needle me about Fin for an hour?"
All hints of teasing left Threnn's eyes. "Pull up a chair," she said, and sat at Bricu's desk. He didn't drink anymore, but there were still glasses in one of the drawers. As Anna retrieved the chair from near the window, Threnn poured the drinks.
Anna settled into the chair and lifted her glass. Threnn clinked her own against it and both women drank. It wasn't until Threnn put her glass back down that Anna noticed the liquid -- it was clear, not the rich amber of the bourbon burning its way down her own throat. Water? "No fair making me drink alone, you know."
"I'll catch up later," said Threnn. "My stomach's just been funny today. I'd rather not have to run out of the room before you're done."
"Hmph." She pushed her bourbon away.
Threnn pushed it right back. "Out with it. If you have to drink 'til you're slurring every word, 's fine. But you're here. May as well tell me what the hell is going on."
"Right. Fine." She took a deep breath, wishing she'd asked Fin and Bricu to stay. Just start talking. "I lied to you, Threnny."
"About the fight with Fane? I know you picked it. I just don't know why."
"Of course you don't. Because I've been lying for a long time now. Leaving things out."
Threnn sipped at her water. "How long's 'a long time'?"
"About... about two and a half years."
Threnn frowned, her eyes going half-closing as she cast her memory backwards. "The baby. Oh, gods, Anna. Fane was the father?" She leaned forward, studying her sister with intent.
"No, no, no. He wasn't. Just listen. I'll tell you everything."
Hesitating for a moment, she finally nodded and sat back, keeping silent despite the flood of questions she wanted to ask.
Annalea took one last sip of bourbon and began to speak.
---
"If she lifts her chin at yeh, mate, yer doomed unless yeh think fast." Bricu and Fingold sat in the kitchen, at one of the tables the staff used for breaks during quiet times. Threnn and Anna had been talking for over an hour, more than enough time for the men to make dinner. Bricu puffed away at a cigarette, pontificating on the stubbornness of the al'Cair women.
"What does it signal?"
"Och, yeh haven't seen it?"
"Only a couple of times, but she wasn't angry. It was when... when she had it in her head I'd be leaving. Those should be about done." Fingold stood up and walked over to the stove, where a pot of potatoes boiled away. It was clear that wasn't a line of conversation to pursue right now.
"Strewth, mate. All right, they'll do it when they're feelin' defensive, too. But most times, it means yer in for a tongue-lashin', or she's about ta dig in her heels an' disagree with yeh. An' that means there's only one thing that'll save yer sorry hide."
Fin poured the water out and carried the steaming pot back to the table. "And what would that be?" He picked up the butter and raised an eyebrow at Bricu.
"Kiss her."
They grinned at one another. "Does it work?"
"Oh, aye. Nine times out o'ten, anyway."
A new voice came from the doorway. "'s bloody cheating, is what it is." Threnn offered them a wan smile. "Two strong Northmen, conspiring against two innocent southron women. What a sordid state of affairs." Her red eyes proved that she'd been crying.
"Threnn?" asked Fin. "Did it go all right?"
"She feels better. 's what confessing's all about."
Bricu came and took her by the elbow, bringing her back to his chair. "An' yerself?"
"Oh, I feel worse. 's what being the confessor's all about. And the blind godsdamned big sister." Sighing, she turned to Fin. "She's splashing some water on her face. Go on up to her. I'll help Bricu bring dinner up in a minute."
Fingold didn't need to be told twice. "Thank you, Threnn." He wiped his hands on a towel and disappeared into the gloom of the back staircase, but not before handing the butter to Bricu with a wink. The Bittertongues watched him go.
"Yeh've just stuck me with potato duty after all, love." Bricu knelt before her and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.
"Cheaters never win."
"Sometimes they do. Got yeh ta marry me, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did. Played that one honestly, though."
"Mostly honest."
"Mostly?"
"Aye. Mostly."
"What were you dishonest ab--" She didn't get to finish the thought, finding herself suddenly, thoroughly, snogged. "See? 's bloody cheating," she said a moment later.
"Well, I've a reputation ta protect, after all." He winked at her, then grew serious again. "Are yeh all right, Threnny?"
"I will be." She shifted forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "I just can't believe she never told me. I would've... I'd've... Hell, I don't know. But there had to be some way I could have helped her." Threnn squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his neck. "She almost died, and I didn't see it. I'd never have known why."
"But she didn't." Bricu wrapped his arms around his wife. "She's an al'Cair. Yeh lot have this foolish idea that bein' strong an' protectin' others means doin' everythin' on yer own."
Another minute passed before she straightened. Bricu handed her a clean dish towel to dry her eyes. "Sorry, love. I'm just a little off today. Suppose it stings a bit, too, her going to Fin first. My little sister doesn't need me as much anymore."
"An' do yeh need her as much, now that yeh have me?" His voice was gentle.
She sighed at him. "No, suppose I don't."
"Threnny. She's always gonna need yeh. An' yer always gonna need her. But if someone else is takin' care o'her, who better than Fin? He's arse over teeth for her."
"There you go making sense again."
"It's me job." He kissed her on the forehead, then pulled her to her feet and kissed her full on the lips. "Now," he said after a moment, "let's get dinner finished an' bring it up for the lovebirds, aye?"
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Post by Bricu on Sept 26, 2008 13:46:56 GMT -5
(You too can be part of the Fun with Fane!)
Bricu knew he was being followed by an expert, probably a hit man. His footfalls matched his own. He stayed out of sight. He even started following him shortly after his first cigarette, part of Bricu's pattern. He smiled as he crossed over into Old Town. Tonight he would turn the tables.
Just past the alley was the perfect spot for an ambush. Two blind spots and a good escape route through Old Towns. Thinking ahead, Bricu called up on the Light to shield him from the assassin's dagger. When his shadow made his move, Bricu spun on his heel and grabbed his dagger-arm. His attacker off balance, Bricu used his other hand to grab his attacker's head and slam it into the wall. The man fell to the ground.
Bricu stepped on the hand that held the dagger, keeping his boot on his wrist and his body to the left. "Now squire, tell me what the bloody hell yer up ta?"
"If I'm here, imagine whose at home with Threnny?" his attacker mocked Bricu's accent.
Bricu clucked in disappointment and kicked the man in the jaw.
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Post by Bricu on Sept 26, 2008 13:47:23 GMT -5
Stennis woke when he felt the warmth of the healing magic. It soothed him as his jaw snapped back into place. He felt the rope around his wrists and arms, lashing him to the studs of an exposed wall. He was in an abandoned building now. It was dark, damp and cold, but he wasn't alone. Bricu was in the room with him. He could smell the smoke clung to him. Stennis only saw him when he lit another cigarette in front of his face.
"Yeh shouldn't have mentioned me Threnny, squire."
Stennis kept his mouth shut. Fane had promised him a king's ransom for this job. He wasn't going to blow it on bluster.
"Yeh got a choice squire. Tell me where ta find Fane or be my messenger boy."
Stennis glared at Bricu.
Bricu smiled. He started to whistle as he walked behind Stennis. As he walked, Stennis could ear the crunch of the roaches and the squeks of the rats that littered the the floor.
Stennis was quiet until he felt the daggers slam into his wrists. Stennis screamed, then focused on the pain. Warm blood started to flow down his arms. He didn't break when he felt warmth and his wounds close around the daggers. The bleeding stopped but the pain persisted.
"Tell yer boss this he finds yeh," Bricu said as he stood in front of him, "First the dog, then the master. Got it?"
He finally spoke. "Rot in hell."
"Squire, I'm too pretty ta rot, but I'll make sure I'll see yeh there. Don't struggle too much. The blood will attract the rats."
As he watched Bricu walked out into the night, Stennis felt the vermin crawl over him.
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Post by Threnn on Sept 29, 2008 20:16:43 GMT -5
Rain sluiced down over Stormwind, drenching the Brewfest revelers. Some of them sought shelter beneath awnings. The slightly drunk crawled under tables, their arses getting wet while their heads stayed relatively dry. The just-plain-drunks danced merry jigs in the downpour.
One of the very drunk grabbed Aumery Fane's arm as he passed, dragging him into a whirl.
She was a pretty thing, plump and only a little grimy, probably one of the workers from the Dwarven District. She gave him a crooked-toothed smile as she spun him around.
The rain made his bones ache - not just his burns anymore, but the places the paladin had broken them, healed them, and broken them again. The places where the Light had sliced into him, making him scream. The bruises that had never manifested. The worthless, cowardly little cur had surprised him, inflicted wounds that would have had a lesser man gibbering, then taken the injuries away but left the pain.
When the paladin was gone, Fane had crawled to the portal. Crawled! He'd been so wracked with pain it had taken him three days before he could stand without hunching over.
And now this wench's inebriated flailing made his shoulder twinge in protest as a break-that-never-was began to sing.
He slammed a fist into her face to make her let go. She sat down, hard, on the cobblestones, blood pouring down her chin from where he'd smashed in a few of those crooked teeth. The rain made the blood turn pink. By the time her nerves registered the pain through her drunkenness and she started to scream, Fane was halfway down the block, feeling much better.
---
"My Lord?"
"Ah, Aumery, there you are. Come in and sit." Lord Danyll Fairfax sat by the fire, sipping at a glass of wine and enjoying a brief respite from the festivities taking place downstairs.
Below, House Fairfax' Stormwind home was aflutter with Brewfest activity. It had been Elisabeth's idea, buying up stores of ale and handing them out to visitors to garner goodwill from their associates.
Of course, the ale was only available to the right kind of people - well-to-do merchants and minor nobles were granted passage, but first they had to pass by the two burly guards from House Mortimer. The men stood their posts at the door, turning away beggars and commoners who'd heard whispers of free drinks. They'd almost barred Fane from entry; his appearance was so haggard, so close to that of the wrong kind of people, that if it hadn't been for the crest on his cloak, they'd have tossed him back into the rain.
Which would have made things go very poorly for them both, later on.
Fane lowered himself into the chair opposite his employer, aware of the rainwater dripping off of him, puddling on the newly waxed floor and seeping into the fine upholstery. Decorum, however, kept Danyll from calling attention to his servant's saturation.
"Would you like a drink before you make your report?" Danyll held up the wine bottle.
Fane waved it off. "I brought my own." He produced his flask from the folds of his cloak and took a long swig. "There have been... developments."
His master didn't answer, simply swirling the wine in his glass and waiting.
"It seems the whore has befriended a blood elf. I had the chance to meet him in Cutthroat Alley, on his way to visit her." He clenched his teeth at the memory of how the encounter had ended. Echoes of the thugs' laughter when he stopped fleeing in terror still rang in his ears. "At first, I thought it was the paladin, but..."
Danyll shook his head. "I've seen Edour, speaking to the clerks in City Hall." A sly grin stole across his lips. "He's human as they come. Northern blood, by the look of him, but certainly not Sin'dorei."
"Mmm. I realized my mistake later. And the paladin wasn't afraid to use his fists. I don't think this slick ear could have landed a blow." His jaw still ached from the beating the hooded paladin had administered. His nose should have been crooked from the repeated breaks, but every time he smashed it, the bastard had healed it cleanly. "But that just makes it more interesting. Either she's fucking the blood elf on the sly, or she has some other dealing with him. Why else would he be skulking around in Stormwind? If the guards had caught him, he'd be hanged as a spy."
"What business could she possibly have with a blood elf?"
Fane shrugged. "You've seen her book. She could be selling him poisons."
"It seems a long way to go to acquire poisons. It's not as though she's renowned for them." He rubbed at his chin, considering. "It could simply have been a representative of the Shattered Sun. You told me yourself she'd been spending time there." They were silent for a few moments, each mulling over possibilities. Finally Danyll shook his head. "Leave it, for now. If you see him again, get a name, or an insignia, something to identify him. What else?"
"I wonder if one of the physicians might be sent to look in on Stennis."
"He's ill?" The man wasn't a permanent employee of House Fairfax, but on occasions when extra body guards were needed, Stennis was one of Fane's first picks. Elisabeth disapproved of hiring from the rabble, but even she had to admit that not one of those caravans had ever been robbed.
"I sent him to have a chat with Bricu Bittertongue. It didn't go quite as planned." Another long pull from the flask and a grimace to go with it. "We found him pinned to the wall with a pair of daggers through his wrists. The wounds were closed. We had to... to reopen them to take him down." He paused, remembering how Stennis' screams had reverberated through the empty building. "He was covered in rat bites, too. Those, plus the blood loss and the damp -- he's in a bad way."
"Hnh."
"All he's said for two days is 'first the dog, then the master.' Seems it was Bittertongue's message to me."
Danyll blinked, startled.
"I'm sure he referred to Stennis and myself, my Lord. He wouldn't dare come for you."
But the seed of fear had been planted, anyway.
Fane hid his smile with another sip. It was simple enough to guess what had happened. Stennis was a thorough man -- he'd spent time learning what he could about Bittertongue before approaching him for the first time. It meant following the paladin, of course, learning his routes and patterns. But it also meant learning what to say to catch him off-guard, should the tables turn in the victim's favor.
If Bricu had the upper-hand, Stennis must have invoked his wife's name. How hard had Stennis pushed to incite that particular punishment? Let's hope he recovers enough to tell us. It would be wise to know the Northman's limits.
It followed, then, that if he'd been so brutal with Fane's hireling, then of course Bittertongue had meant Fane and Fairfax -- He'd want the one holding my leash. Any smart man would. But his employer didn't need to be truly apprised of that just yet. "Either way, you've no reason to worry. I'll be ready."
"Ready for what?" came a warm female voice from the door. Lady Elisabeth Fairfax stood watching them. Her dress displayed the colors of both her houses - the red and gold of Fairfax entwined with the green and black of Mortimer. A lesser tailor's needle would have made the dress a disaster, but Oreweave had an eye for subtletly. Poor imitations would certainly crop up by Winter Veil.
"For the next shipment, darling," said Danyll, shaking his head imperceptibly at Fane.
Both men stood as she swept into the room. Fane dropped a deep bow, uncomfortably cognizant of how well the fire had dried his front and how very damp the rest of him still was. Cold water slid along his neck.
"Please, gentlemen, at your ease. I only came to tell my husband that Lord Randwick is downstairs, quite in his cups. It seems he's stopped at every keg between his home and ours. Perhaps you'd care to share a drink with him and discuss a bit of business before he moves on?"
"Of course! Aumery, if you go and see my secretary, he'll take care of your requests." He set his wine glass down and shrugged into his waistcoat. "Now, will you excuse me?"
"Certainly, my Lord." He bowed again. As Danyll crossed the room to offer his arm to his wife, Fane glanced up and caught Lady Fairfax' eye.
She smiled at him. One hand came up and touched her earlobe, as though she were checking to be sure her earrings were still there.
She'd left him a message.
Once Lord and Lady Fairfax had left the room, Fane gathered up his cloak and went downstairs via the servants' stairway. He set Danyll's secretary to arranging for a physician to see to Stennis, then made his way to the stables. After his accident, he'd found it hard to control the fine stallion he'd once called his own; the animal had its own ideas of who was in charge, and a crippled man who spent most of his first months recovering inside a bottle certainly did not commandeer respect.
Lady Elisabeth, new to the household and something of an accomplished rider, had become its mistress in Fane's absence.
As he entered the stall, the horse whickered at him. It didn't care to share its space with anyone, not even its former master. "Easy," he said. "I'm not here to saddle you." One of the slats on the wall was loose; Fane counted his way across until he found it and slid a thin envelope out from behind it.
Inside there was a picture, barely the size of his thumbnail, that had once filled a locket. A pretty, dark-haired young woman smiled from it, her face wide and round. The painter had even managed to catch the greens and browns in the girl's expressive eyes. A portraitist possessing that much skill couldn't have come cheap.
A stiff piece of vellum remained in the envelope as well. A short paragraph flowed over it in a feminine hand. As he read the first line Fane grinned, his lips peeling back to show his teeth: Celine Walton, née Celine Edour. Stromgarde.
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