Parley

[Paroxysm]

If he hadn't been in the limelight, Pendaran would have rolled his eyes at Sebilla's question.

Mortals, he sighed. Even when they were broken down and rebuilt, they just had no talent for showmanship.

“Yes, yes,” he replied underneath his breath, “I called.”

The Unseelie king toyed idly with the cuffs of his sleeves before deciding Igraine and Caela were worth his attention; he momentarily disregarded Sebilla and gave the whole of his focus to the before mentioned women.

“Come now,” Pendaran said, faux-irritation inflecting his words, “Unless you are suggesting otherwise, I have not harmed this woman,” he smiled daggers, “but I did improve her so as to facilitate my obligations. She is now better able to protect herself and live independently,” he gave a small shrug.”

Pendaran’s sky-colored eyes regarded Caela with something not unlike satisfaction.

“Truly, the circumstances are somewhat unique,” he admitted, “and I would not care to repeat this situation, but I take my oaths seriously, regardless,” he said with fire in his voice, “and it would be wise to keep that in mind.”

Igraine could be Kahlan incarnate herself - and really, she may have been, for all he knew - but even if he had broken his word, visited untold horror and misery upon Sebilla, there was not a thing her family could do to him, not at the seat of his power and within the heart of his realm, and that was especially true if she wished to not cause complications with her pregnancy.

Guests were rarely more intimidating than their hosts.

Still, it made him want the woman as his all the more. Such fire and defiance, and ignorance, too, in her; it would be such a joy to break and educate the woman. Then there was Caela, too, who may have been a prize, as well, though less valued than Igraine, all things considered. Igraine, and Lydia were both with child and Caela was Sebilla’s mother. Why, Pendaran could, with a little effort, have the complete set, now that he actively thought about it, though he was missing one or two, if he remembered right.

“Indeed,” he replied to Igraine, “I believe there is much to discuss,” he said and then turned his attention to Sebilla, “Smile pretty, girl,” he suggested, “and by all means, spend some time with your mother.”

Without missing a beat, Pendaran returned to speaking to Igraine: “I have heard one of mine grew a tad bit ambitious and caused you some problems,” he said and it was obvious the whole of his court had heard him, at least to some extent, “Yes, I believe we have much to discuss indeed,” Pendaran’s voice, mid-sentence, shifted and distorted, along with his body, and his words finished some odd feet away; he was already advancing toward a side exit and fully expecting Igraine, Queen of Ulster, to follow. Before he left, however, he did turn once to look back at Caela, a fierce, knowing smile on his face.

[Igraine]

Igraine followed Pendaran with a swish of her skirts. Once they were through the side exit together Igraine looked at him carefully. This man, this creature wanted her for so many reasons -- and she doubted any of them would benefit her welfare.

"One of your Sirens attempted to create some issues at the gates of my castle. I would appreciate it if the over zealous of your lot would refrain from making my human patrons try to kill each other to get to me. As it stands though, she's dead. From what I can gather Caela ate her flesh. No hard feelings though I assume?" Igraine smiled and followed Pendaran to wherever it was that he decided to go. Once there she would fold her hands over her stomach, knowing very well that he was capable of feeling the child growing inside her.

"I have a feeling that you have something else you wish to discuss with me, King Pendaran. Something that you think will either break me or at the very least unravel me. Am I right?" Fire, sure, she was full of fire. She was also full of anger too but she had set that on the back burner, simmering low on the scale of emotions she was capable of as a pregnant woman. Right now she was curious.

Idly she noticed that her dress matched his eyes, and that disturbed her slightly. Had she picked the gown from the countless times she had seen his eyes in the mirror? From the man times that she had unwittingly found him watching her, not knowing who he was? Igraine shook her head and waited to see if he would offer her a seat, or if she would have to take a seat for her own.

[Sebilla]

Sebilla smiled brilliantly and descended the dais as King Pendaran broke to the side with Igraine. She hurried to her mother and threw herself into her arms. When she felt Caela's protective arms close around her she sighed contentedly. She was aware that Thorin, Trydian, and Vylrath were all around them -- but she didn't care. The most important person for her to be with right then was her mother.

"I'm okay, mother -- really. It was the strangest thing, the way he made my body stronger. I was everywhere and no where, it was truly amazing." Sebilla smiled as she pulled back from Caela's embrace. She glanced back at where Thorin was being held down by Vylrath's arm and she smiled again -- though she had no tears for the reunion.

"When did grandfather come back? I assume Kahlan brought him back...?" Sebilla looked at Caela, noticing her changes for the first time. She let her eyes widen as she took in all the details. "You look different." She stated the obvious and then she laughed, a soft pealing laugh like the tinkling of bells. That gesture was the same too. Same old Sebilla, with a better grasp on life, less chance to die from something as innocuous as a cold.

Caela smiled benevolently as she looked at her daughter. Her eyes scanned every inch of her daughter's face and skin. She held her hand as she began talking about the other gathered family there.

"Kahlan did bring Vylrath back to life." Caela nodded then laughed when her daughter looked shocked at her new look, which looked so like she used to before becoming a Vuri. "Let's just say I had a run in with a Siren. We have found out some very interesting developments with this new race."

Caela waved Thorin, Vylrath, and Trydian over. When Trydian came over she would wrap her arms around him and hug him close. He had such turmoil in his hear that she could feel. Yet, when he was next to his sister he calmed. She could feel it in the quivering of his tightly strung body, when she was close he calmed -- his whole body reacted to hers. She knew that they had become more than siblings and she smiled.

"You know, this union between you, it is something that I approve of." When Sebilla blushed a pretty shade of pink and tried to speak, Caela raised her hand and shook her head. "No, I know without even having to be told. You two have always had a connection that ran deeper than your sibling bonds, deeper even than the blood pact that I created to bind your brother to you, Sebilla." Caela smiled and looked at Trydian and kissed his forehead gently. "I know, too, that the pact is broken. I can sense it for I created it."

Caela smoothed Sebilla's hair back from her forehead and she smiled.

"I approve. I just wish that he wasn't at the beck and call of the King. I hope to have my children, both of you, with me when this is over. I don't know that either of you could fully exist without the other."

[Vylrath]

Vylrath released Thorin from his grip, but he didn't hesitate to let him feel the onslaught of his power and influence with the other Vuri. He joined Caela and the others, but he was mostly surprised in the change in Sebilla. She was no longer the innocent little girl he had remembered. The new change in her was better, but he doubted her mother felt the same way about it.

Trydian wouldn't be given a warm welcome. The two had their history and he wasn't exactly shy about expressing himself, with people he thoroughly despised. His son might have new demonic powers, but he hadn't gotten there on his own. Shaking his head, he completely ignored Trydian and spoke to Sebilla and Caela. He chuckled when Caela gave approval to Sebilla and Trydian's relationship. This family couldn't exactly scorn others for showing such taboo affection.

“I'm sure you hardly remember me, Sebilla, but the new change in you is for the best. You would not have survived long as a mortal. I can feel your power and I'm sure the King will regret awakening your influence later.” Shrugging, Vyl marveled at how much she looked like her mother and how she could tame Trydian with the smallest gesture. He kept his words quiet, so not to cause too much attention with his words. This place was beginning to get at his nerves.

Vylrath's features might look confusing to Sebilla, but only because of his age difference and slight changes. His once silver hair, had become a dark red that complimented his copper toned skin. Vylrath's eyes had always been dark, but they held a younger, more vibrant spirit behind them. Even though he appeared calm about the events, he secretly wondered which family members would be killed by his sword.

“I promised your mother that I would bring you and Trydian back with us, but I hadn't counted on your powers, or his contract with the King.” Vylrath had always been able to talk with Sebilla and he had always had a different relationship with her. Maybe it had been her mortality, that had seen past what he was and who he was, but it was a kinship that wouldn't be easily replaced.

He continued to speak as if Trydian weren't present, his anger lacing his words. Vylrath was more disgusted that his son had willingly broken his demonic spirit. Trydian had been one of the few left with a true demonic essence, but now it was as if it were something else entirely.

“There is too much at stake here, especially since both sons have made such poor choices. Now they made it even more difficult to contemplate a realistic plan of action. Igraine is with his majesty now, but I wonder how she'll feel when she finds out about Thorin and the Bocan's son.”

Vylrath had already said too much, but he couldn't contain much of his temper. Backtracking, he realized what he had revealed, but Thorin might as well face the music without Igraine present and prepare himself.

His sons would have to do some growing up and a quick dose of reality always did the trick for the stubborn ones.

[Paroxysm]

The Unseelie king remained silent up until he and his guest entered the privacy of his study. Pendaran had waved his hand and the door slowly crept open, the guards standing to the left and right of the portal were as silent and motionless as ever, but their eyes, motes of an orange-brown light, smoldered and followed after Igraine.

The room was furnished much as it had been when Trydian (and then Sebilla) had visited earlier. The one exception was that Pendaran had cleared the large table that took up the center of the room of its map and figurines; in their place was a glass pitcher of water, two glasses, and two chairs, one on either side of the table, facing one another.

“Welcome, my dear, to being a queen,” Pendaran said unperturbed before taking his seat and motioning to for Igraine to take the second.

“The Siren wasn’t a soldier of my court,” Pendaran stated matter-of-fact, “She followed my laws but I am no more responsible for her behavior as you are for the humans who don traveling garb and adventure forth into the unknown, currying respect and favor with their achievements. It is, of course, unfortunate that she was killed, “he said, leaning in and firmly planting his palms onto the table, “and then devoured.”

Pendaran sighed.

“Don’t be so presumptuous,” the king chided, “I have no intentions of breaking you anytime soon. If I wanted you broken, I’d start with your country, destabilizing your economy and working your neighbors against you,” he admitted, “followed by your family,” he said without changing his tone, like he was reading from the morning newspaper, “and I wouldn’t be the nice, understanding host that I’ve been thus far.”

How little did these mortal creatures think of him? Oh, he was sure they thought he was evil, sure, but he had to wonder if they thought he was helpless too, if he was doing what he was doing because there were no alternatives. He could slowly whittle away at everything Igraine and her family held dear, if he wanted to. Mortal agents and countries and organizations could be bought with jewels and gold. Both of which Pendaran had in excess.

“No, I have things to discuss with you,” he said, “but none of them involve me breaking you. Not in the way you would think, at least, but we’re not done discussing the Siren. If you’d like,” he said, “You may repeat the terms you had me agree to before you would pay me this visit. I guarantee you won’t find them mentioning the Lady Caela or your lover, Thorin.”

The winter court’s king lowered himself back into his seat and drummed his fingers in a row across the table, smiling.

“No hard feelings? No, never,” he chuckled, “You’ve given me a gift - an advantage on multiple fronts,” he said, nodding his head thankfully, “It is always good for these kinds of meetings when we can quickly establish who holds all the cards.”

The Siren meant nothing to Pendaran, truth be told, but that was irrelevant, he would wholly admit that she meant nothing to him. Still, she meant something to her family, to the other sirens, and they would, undoubtedly, demand reparations. In the form of a pound of flesh. Literally. One of theirs had been killed and eaten, and they would want one of Igraine’s because of it. They, along with the other servitor races, would beseech the king for a swift and immediate response.

“Your father and you, along with Sebilla, may leave now, if you’d like, but Thorin, the Lady, and her son will remain, I think. Should they attempt to flee without my blessing,” Pendaran growled, “I’ll see the earth swallow them whole. Bite any defiance that may rear its head,” he suggested, “and answer me this, if you will: Do you see where you stand now? We will converse politely, like adults, once I am sure you have no doubts about who you’re dealing with. I would not have you ignorant of me, dear child. That would be disrespectful to you and contrary to what I want. I would also have your word that you will take full responsibility for the Lady Caela, Thorin Xanathi, and your father, Vylrath Xanathi should they choose to indulge their cravings on my court."

There had been several occasions where the High Queen of Ulster, Igraine Lothair, demanded she be taken serious. Her wish, it would seem, was finally coming true. Pendaran would not underestimate her in the least; he was going to use every amount of leverage he could get. Not because he feared her, but because there was no point in doing things in halves.

[Igraine]

"No." Igraine said as she sat down in the chair. He thought he held all the cards, and he very well might. There was one thing that he didn't have though, and that was her. He would never have gone to such trouble to try to destroy her and her family if he didn't want something from her in return.

"Sebilla was intended to return to her mother. I will not leave her behind. Take Vylrath if you must, but I will be bringing Caela back with me. She means nothing to you, though I wager you have felt her powers." Igraine looked at Pendaran and sighed. He wasn't an idiot, a human idiot, he was a psychopath faerie. Igraine rested her head in one hand, watching Pendaran carefully. He was mildly intimidating, but to her his general attitude was off putting.

"They will not consume any flesh that is not given to them by you. They usually consume human flesh and not otherworldly. I will claim responsibility for their actions while they are within the Unseelie Realm." Igraine kept her eyes on him and shook her head.

"I need Thorin. He is the father of my unborn daughter. If any other deal must be struck then he has to be able to leave this place before the date of my daughter's birth." Igraine got to her feet and paced, she looked like a tiger with all the pent up energy inside her. She stopped and looked at Pendaran, shook her head, and began to pace again. She would pause now and again and lay a hand on her abdomen and look lost in thought before pacing again. When she finally stopped she looked at Pendaran again.

"What is it that you want from me exactly. No more dissembling between us. If you can make my life so miserable by standing in proximity to you, I need to know what it is you want of me. Why me? If you will allow me that very human emotion for one moment." Igraine settled on the edge of her chair, her hair falling around her face. There was no doubt why Thorin had fallen in love with her, but it was a mystery why they had never wed. Pendaran might know they intended to but never completed the ceremony.

[Paroxysm]

No? Oh, Igraine was under the impression there was choice in this particular matter. There wasn’t. Indeed, Caela and Thorin would remain where they were, in the Unseelie realm, until Pendaran dismissed them. He had no intentions of actually keeping them here, of course, if everything worked out, but if things didn’t, they weren’t leaving.

“For the time being,” Pendaran said, “they are staying here whether you like it or not. Let us hope we come to an agreeable arrangement to prevent that,” he cocked his head and watched her as she stood and started pacing. She may have thought of herself as a tiger, restless in its cage, but Pendaran saw her as prey, at least for now.

“Why do I want you? Why have I so involved myself with your life and your family, and why have I done my best to ease you within arm’s reach rather than forcefully dragging you by that pretty head of hair? Why have I used subtle ploys, bargains, and tricks? Went about it the long way rather than the quick and easy?”

Pendaran drummed his fingers again.

“Before the cataclysm, do you realize how many planes welcomed you?” Despite asking a question, Pendaran raised his hand and began counting off with his fingers: “One, the Seelie recognize you as the heiress apparent; two, Battle’s domain, Heaven, though lost to your mother, was not outside of your reach; three, Sentinel's, too, would have recognized your birthright to it, though I doubt your father has any fans residing there; four, of course, is the mortal world; and five,” he spread both his hands, “The Unseelie king welcomes you, if only temporarily, to his realm. Daughter of Kahlan, you have no boundaries, untold power sleeping inside of you, and more yet developing in your womb. True, my hand can reach far and wide, even outside my realm, but I cannot physically leave without expending a great deal more energy than I’m willing. That’s common knowledge, of course,” he shrugged, “that I would expect Kahlan’s daughter to already know.”

Pendaran gave a smile full of genuine warmth.

“I have no doubt you think of me as a monster,” he admitted without anything resembling regret or shame, “but I am not. Good and evil? Those are concepts I could never quite understand. I am the aspect of Winter, of elemental cold. You don’t curse the winter for being cold and merciless anymore than you would the summer for its relentless heat.”

"I want to reunite the sidhe courts," he said, "and I want to give order to the chaos still running rampant in the mortal world. You are the first step to my desires."

He laughed and it was not a nice sound.

[Igraine]

Igraine laughed, a genuine laughed and shook her head. She didn't know what he was talking about. She was no angel and she was no demon. It took her a few seconds to compose herself -- she didn't really take her heritage into account for such things. She supposed she could enter these realms without much effort.

"I am no angel, no demon either, though I suppose you are correct. Though it is dubious at best what my hold in Sentinel's realm might be. My father doesn't exactly have the best track record with making friends, and is even less hospitable to gods. Though I wager Sentinel might have enjoyed him in his prime." Igraine relaxed in the chair slightly and kept her gaze on Pendaran.

"Queen Mab detests you still I see, though your reach gets farther by the day into the Human World." Igraine watched him carefully and shook her head again. "Having entry into these worlds is the least of your worries I imagine. Or mine for that matter. What does my family matter to you? Collateral? Are you trying to make sure that I will come back to you when you call for me? All that I would ask of you is the ability to give birth to my daughter in the Human World. She will not be used in your plotting or against me. She is completely innocent save that I am her mother. Can we at least agree to these terms? Nothing hurts her, your power doesn't touch her, and you don't use her against me."

When Pendaran started talking about the Winter, Igraine smiled.

"I am of the Summer Court, my dear King. Your methods might be unorthodox to me, cruel even by most standards, but I would not ask you to change yourself. You are the ice of the deepest winter and I respect that. I respect you and your power. I always have and I always will. You are capable of vast things, great things, that no one else might be privy to. What you did for Sebilla..."

Igraine shrugged and looked at Pendaran again and shook her head.

"No one else could have done that, except perhaps my mother. She is the reason that Vylrath yet lives. I may not agree with how you present yourself, and I may not agree with your methods, but I know how to recognize power for what it is and respect the wielder. I do want to thank you for what you did for her. She would not have lived long as a human, and she keeps Trydian sane."

Igraine glanced down at her hands and hid a smile. Pendaran had some good in him, though it served his own ends and no one elses, it was there though.

-------------------------------------------

Amara sighed as King Pendaran and Queen Igraine swept past them and into his study.

"Cambria, let's go to the reception hall. I can hear from here that's where everyone has gathered. I'd much rather not lose my life for interrupting that meeting if I can avoid it."

Tugging on his hand, Amara would lead him up the hall to the Reception Hall where everyone was milling about eating and drinking. The close knit group of the Xanathi's was a source of much gossip and curiosity. Amara ignored them and made a beeline to the heavily pregnant Lydia.

"You look well, Sister." Amara said with something akin to a smile.

"You brought Cambria?" Lydia ignored what Amara said and smiled a vicious toothy smile at the man. "Good, the King will be looking forward to his arrival, especially after this fiasco. I can't imagine what he sees with that twit, Queen Igraine. Rumor has it that red haired woman over there, see her?" Lydia grabbed Amara by the hair to turn her head -- heedless of the pain it would cause the other Bocan. "She ate a rogue Siren. Ate her! Can you believe it? She feels so strange to me. Not human, not Siren, not anything I've felt before. It's the same with Thorin, though I know he's a Vuri. She just seems so...different."

Lydia was obviously not happy with the developments, especially the ones surrounding Caela. She looked balefully at the Sebilla creature and shook her head.

"I don't like this at all. Why would he make her in his image?"

"Calm down, Lydia. All of this fuss can't be good for the child." Amara said seeking to guide Lydia to a chair.

Lydia slapped her across the face, her nails clawing along her neck. On a normal person it would have drawn blood -- on Amara it just left red welts that looked incredibly painful. Shocked, she let go of Lydia and stepped back a pace, looking highly confused. Lydia being wound so tightly was unusual and she couldn't understand what the hell was wrong with the woman.

"Cambria, perhaps we should stand somewhere else." Amara didn't look at him but covered her new wounds with one hand, a very ineffectual block for the angry claw marks.

[Paroxysm]

“No,” Pendaran agreed, “you are not an angel and nor are you a demon. Your mother saw of that last part personally, didn’t she? At least for a while,” he looked Igraine up and down, smiling. “You were still born of them, though, were you not? You should count yourself fortunate that Battle had never called upon you - and now can’t, regardless. He would have been a much bigger problem than I, of that I assure you.”

Pendaran quirked a brow and then shook his head.

“Detest,” he repeated after Igraine, “That is a strong word, don’t you think? It is in our nature to disagree with one another and I was harsher in the past than I am now. I was too comfortable in my strength,” he shrugged, “and enjoyed my advantages over summer a bit too much. I paid for my overconfidence. I am thankful for the separation and what it has afforded me though. Made me patient, let me cultivate my influence, plant seeds all over the world, and all the while, I was able to nurse my wounds and steadily grow in power.”

Truth be told, Pendaran was now about as strong as he was in the past; he had been stronger, of course, up until he implanted a significant portion of his strength in Sebilla Rivenfelde, but it was not a damning thing in the least. Despite Sebilla’s upgrade, however, he was still a hell of a lot more dangerous than prior to his imprisonment. Pendaran took up strategy, political games, magical theory and practice, acquired specialty paraphernalia, and made sure the nobility of his court were trained in more than political intrigue. He was also in far better control of his nature than the past.

“Your child intrigues me,” he admitted, his voice surprisingly gentle, “I pointed out this wonderful heritage of yours - information, perhaps, your mother never thought to speak to you about, yes? Now look at your daughter. She is yet another generation and undiluted, too. Your family’s ... tastes, being what they are, work in the favor of the old powers. If the men and women could cease their emotional and physical abuse of one another, why, I would say you would be a force of reckoning for most of your enemies. I like to think I have brought some order to your chaos, though,” he inclined his head towards Igraine, "I have, after all, brought you all together, under one roof, united for a single cause. Not that the hostility has completely vanished, of course."

There was some truth to Pendaran’s words. He had a stack of papers somewhere in his study that detailed several occasions where the Xanathi-Rivenfelde family stood divided rather than together. Including one that involved Vylrath’s spiritual-son trying to eat him much as Caela had eaten the Siren. Zaero was that boy’s name, if Pendaran could remember right. He was a homunculus created from the remains of a man named Baleron. Messy bit of drama, that.

“My power touches everyone at some point,” Pendaran claimed without bravado, “That is kind of the point of being winter incarnate. I was not particularly fond of the idea of threatening your child, however, or using her against you. You see,” Pendaran began, “I prefer those who make their decisions willingly. Even Sebilla had a choice in her change, to an extent: I was going to change her regardless, but there is more power when one makes that choice. Threatening you with your daughter to bind you to me? There would be no true choice there for you. I did not truly threaten Trydian with Sebilla, either. My agent merely pointed out that if I showed interest in a human others would too. He bargained for her protection and the deal was struck.”

Pendaran’s eyes flashed with a feral intensity.

“I will not make that oath,” he said with a hint of finality, “because it would take away not just my options but yours, too. It would limit your choices. One day, you may be in need of such a bargain yourself. A place of asylum for your daughter. The same as Sebilla.”

The Unseelie king did not bother commenting further on Sebilla Rivenfelde or her change. He doubt even Igraine could truly understand the advantage she offered the Unseelie or the necessity by which Pendaran had been working. The girl was too weak, too emotionally vulnerable, and her family too infuriatingly dysfunctional. Still, the Ulsterite Queen probably wasn't alone in not being able to appreciate what a mortal-born sidhe represented. That said, he would have to remember to inform Sebilla to stay out of Seelie territory and away from Mab.

"At any rate, I can give you my word that I won't use your unborn child against you. If you'd like, we can bargain - I do love to bargain, after all. How about a fairy godmother?" He chuckled.

[Thorin]

Thorin moved, before the words were finished from Vylrath's lips. His thoughts were becoming quickly unhinged, his primal rage quickly rooting into the force behind his Vuri magic. With a swift motion, he was beside Lydia, grasping the hand that had slapped Amara. He spoke softly, but the words held little stability behind them.

“I couldn't agree more. You should sit, before you injure our baby.” Thorin transferred a maelstrom of energy into Lydia, but it would be felt like a voltaic crushing force inside of her womb. The moment wouldn't last, but it would leave an impression on the cruel Bocan. He held no heart for her, or the infant and he wouldn't have hesitated to kill them both. However, he couldn't risk Igraine's safety, so he merely gave her a quick warning with the wrath of a Vuri.

Thorin would never bring a hand to a woman, but he didn't view Lydia as a normal woman. She had manipulated him and broken him. She had broken the small trust he still had with Igraine and now he would be the father to Lydia's child.

It was unforgivable.

His form would seem darker, much more intimidating in front of Lydia. Thorin had once laid kind hands on her, but that kindness would only be saved for Igraine. Nodding toward Amara, he would see to the behavior of Lydia, even if it meant sending her more reminders of his power. He felt for Amara, seeing the red welts raise against her beauty.

Bowing to Cambria, he saw that he was possibly a companion to Amara, whom he had never met before. From the way they exchanged words with Lydia, they obviously had some history with one another, but he wasn't curious enough to find out. Being polite, he introduced himself.

“I am Thorin Xanathi, of the Vuri clan. Unfortunately, she carries my child. I apologize for her behavior...she isn't herself it seems. How are you feeling, Lydia? I think you owe Amara and her friend an apology.” Thorin wasn't asking, but watching her reaction. She would be too riddled with pain to speak, which gave him a disturbing satisfaction.

[Paroxysm]

Orso had not rejoined the group of foreigners he had shepherded to the Unseelie lands; however, his attention immediately snapped back to his king's guests when he felt a colossal tide of power--as did all of the noble sidhe, though they were not alarmed so much as curious. From Orso's perspective, the situation appeared to present itself quite readily: Vylrath was behaving himself and Caela had yet to lose her composure. That left only one person and he was a tad bit too close to Lydia, who Orso knew to be a Bocan, and to whom he could trace the power to--and not as its origin, either. She had been on the receiving end.

The Lumen's right hand lifted, his index and middle fingers extended outwards with his thumb cocked back, like a child's symbol for a firearm; the lights in the room dimmed ever so slightly.

Bocan were by no means fragile, however. Orso would wait for Lydia's reaction before he made any attempt on Thorin's life; he had better just hope Lydia recovered quickly and that no permanent harm had been done. In a straight up fight, he was sure that Thorin might be able to overpower him in raw strength alone, but Orso was a master of a very specific skill set. One that allowed him to perform his job as a mediator better, in fact; it allowed him to pacify hostile parties from a considerable distance away.

He was a bringer of peace.

The lumen said nothing and made no effort to draw attention to himself, aside from the lights dimming, of course, and the exaggerated stance, too. That was a pretty obvious declaration of intent. Once Lydia recovered and provided she didn’t scream out for bloody vengeance, he would resume mingling with the crowd, but his eye would definitely be on Thorin from now on. Curiously, he was pretty sure Cambria and Amara hadn't been there when last he looked. That was Orso, observer extraordinaire.

[Igraine]

Igraine glanced at the door to the study and shook her head slightly. Her eyes were far off in thought as she considered the door and what lay beyond it. There was no way for King Pendaran to fully understand the path her thoughts took unless he had lived them himself.

"My father's side of the family won't stay cohesive for long. I just wonder at the pull in my own blood that drew me into the same acts that they have all committed. I wonder if it is the demon blood, at times, though I have none in me." Igraine laughed and shook her head and looked back at King Pendaran, an apology for her far off thoughts in her eyes.

"Regardless, it is done now and there is no going back." Igraine smiled lightly and leaned forward suddenly, a reaction that Pendaran might not have been expecting from her. Especially since she had been carefully avoiding touching or being near him.

"What can a "fairy godmother" from your court do that one from mine cannot?" Igraine asked, her brow quirked in anticiaption. "What would a deal with you bring my daughter when my Seelie cousins offer themselves freely? My mother would protect her with a great deal of grandmotherly vigor, and you know how she is about her children -- imagine how she will be with her first grandchild."

Igraine sat back in the chair and shook her head.

"I am very curious what offer you gave Sebilla, though. It is my understanding that she has to remain neutral in our proceedings. Another curious development is Thorin's appearance in this realm. He was so aware of what was happening that I find it difficult to fathom how he ended up here before me. I'm sure you're aware of the...fights we've had with regards to protection against you."

Igraine offered a smile, though there was no merriment behind it. She was, however, genuinely curious about these events conspiring against her.

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Lydia heard Thorin's voice before she felt his touch. It was surprisingly gentle, but that was where it ended. His tone was careful and controlled, but when the power hit her she staggered underneath the weight of it. She immediately sank into a chair and rested a hand on her womb. The baby, a boy, twisted inside her with vicious will -- trying to escape the power torturing them both.

The Bocan glanced up at Amara and Cambria and shook her head, waving her free hand and yanking her arm out of Thorin's grasp. She couldn't formulate words for the residual pain lancing through her belly and up her spine. It seemed to have locked her jaw shut for the duration of the sensation.

When the Lumen came to her rescue...what was his name again? Lydia found it hard to concentrate as her eyes went out of focus. Relief was flooding through her body as the pain subsided. She let out a sigh of relief and rested her head on one clawed hand while the other rested on her belly, transferring her power to the child to calm him.

Orso. That was his name.

"I'm fine, Orso." Her voice was hoarse with her attempt at speech after such intense pain. She doubted giving birth would be remotely as painful as whatever Thorin had just done to her. She shrugged away from the Vuri and rested her head in both hands.

"The child is being a little unruly, that's all. Thank you, Orso." It was evident that Lydia would be giving birth any day now. It wouldn't be a far off notion that she would be having issues with the child twisting around inside her.

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Amara dipped her head to Thorin but narrowed her eyes at him. What was he doing protecting her from Lydia? Especially since his child was in her belly? Then Amara realized what Lydia had done and she glanced away. Their race was not above trickery and other horrible means to get the end they wanted.

"Thank you for getting her to calm down. It can't be good for the child." Amara still held a hand over the wicked looking claw marks. They burned like fire and she was doing a fine job of holding herself together under the weight of the pain. The Bocan were expressly forbidden to attack each other, so for Lydia to go against the King in such matters...something was amiss with her head. She must indeed be having a difficult time mastering the emotions and hormones of pregnancy. A Bocan's pregnancy was brief and brutal, but they were only capable of becoming pregnant once. There were some trade offs for so scant an ability.

It was common knowledge that the women were supposed to fall pregnant to the men in order to keep the race alive. Girl children were favored over boys, but in rare cases the boys were able to fall pregnant as females...those pregnancies never ended well though.

Amara glanced over at Orso and waved her hand, the hand covering her wound. He would see it and understand what had happened and that Thorin had intervened. Lydia would have to face the King for her actions once the child was born, and Amara was aware the Orso would be the one to tell him of the events.

[Sage]

The boy glared at the door as he was pulled away from it. He was taking two steps forward, and three steps back, it seemed. Regardless, however, he did as he was told and went where she lead. The open new room was abuzz with activity, and 'people' with unusual scents littering the floor. His mind raced as he caught snippets of conversation, and became no quieter when he saw Lydia, much more pregnant than a few days ago when they first met.

He started when she slapped Amara, finger dancing across the surface of the mechanism that extended the blades on his forearms, but quickly caught himself. His sanguine gaze stayed fixated on her as he gave his self control a workout. He had never been so defensive of anyone, not even his master. The sensation was maddening, as was ignoring it. His work seemed to be done for him, however, as a few more voices were added to the choir of confusion in Cambria's mind. So much was going on in front of him that he did not understand, despite the fact that it was being openly discussed.

He frowned slightly behind the shimmering black mask that eclipsed his features, all but his eyes. He had seen such double talk and passive aggressiveness in humans and their politicians, but these individuals seemed to resemble more of an extreme iteration of vampires. There was a tension that lingered in the air as they spoke around him, and a feint smell of death. Cambria realized if he watched any one of the people he had met so far lash out and murder another of them, he would not be in the least bit surprised.

Cambria was shaken from his daze by Thorin directly addressing him. He thought carefully about what he might say to appear neutral to Amara or Lydia, he didn't want anything bad to happen because of him before he met Pendaran, he needed a clean slate. It was difficult, as Lydia's sudden violence against Amara was fresh in his mind, and yet, Lydia now seemed to have become suddenly ill herself and Cambria was not so heartless that he was not concerned for her.

" I am Cambria, of Toryn. Lydia has been especially helpful to me, dealing with some troublesome issues. I take no offense of her actions, what with her condition. " He bowed slightly, so as to signify both gratitude, and possibly...humility.

[Vylrath]

Vylrath sighed at his sons actions. If Kahlan had been here, he was sure that Thorin would be feeling a greater pain than the bocan. The Parley was achingly dull, so he could only thank Thorin for sidetracking him momentarily. His son would be given a punishment in the future, but it wasn't one with pain or humiliation. Shrugging, he went back to talking with Caela and Sebilla.

“There is only so much that I can control. He'll cause his own downfall eventually...” Vylrath said, mostly explaining Thorin's actions to Caela. “That is what you will have to deal with as leader. I don't envy you for it.” Vylrath had never really taken up responsibility as leader- he had mostly worn the title. The women had always cleaned up after his mess, but he was always oblivious to their act.

Greeting Sebilla a little more personally, he embraced her in a tight hug. He had always been fond of her. She had been one of the few to actually gain his affection. Vylrath felt something hard, almost jutting against her clothing. The desire was unusual, almost gripping his senses completely. Vylrath wanted whatever she had concealed, the energy intoxicating him. He didn't know that the power belonged to a demon.

Snarling, he reached for her and grabbed the front of her dress. His claws would dig into the fabric, tearing a handful away from her delicate frame. She had a power that she had been keeping from him- purposely treasuring it. Vylrath didn't understand the power, he only knew that it was something he wanted to possess. He would go through any length to obtain it- even harm Sebilla, the one granddaughter he had favored and cherished.

“Little greedy bitch...all the power from your King and you keep this from me!” Vylrath wasn't speaking with a sane voice, his actions much too lithe and quick for Sebilla to fully understand the situation.

He would claw at her again, his hand slashing at her throat, attempting to grab at the dormant power that lay in the crystal. Vylrath wanted her blood spilled for the object. If he had to, he would strip her flesh piece by piece. His mind was in total control of the dormant power that beckoned to him. Caela would recognize his tormented and crazed face, even the way his body moved.

Without physical action, there was little hope for gaining control of him.

[Sebilla]

It was always awkward hugging anyone in the Xanathi family, much less Vylrath Xanathi. Sebilla suffered the moment lightly, retracting a little when his flaming hot skin touched her cool flesh. When he pulled back from her she barely had time to register the manic look on his face before he clawed into the chest of her gown.

Sebilla shrieked in protest and started backing away from Vylrath. She slapped at empty air until he was on her again, crushing her down to the floor, intending to smash her throat with his fists. She shrieked again, a louder sound this time and shoved her grandfather off of her. The force behind it would be enough to send him off of her prone form and send her scrambling to pick the pieces of her dress back together to hold her dignity together. She gave up quickly though when he came back toward her again. Sebilla dropped into a crouch, like a vicious caged animal, and bared her teeth at her grandfather. Her dress was in tatters around her waist, sliding off of her and leaving her figure bare.

A cursory glance showed that she had some angry red marks on her chest but they were quickly healing, long scratch marks jagged from Vylrath's short nails. An angry hiss erupted from Sebilla and she hit the ground hard with the flat of her palms, ice crawling at an alarming pace around her in a circle. Vylrath would find it incredibly hard to find purchase on such a slick material and even more alarming was the pure silver of his granddaughter's eyes. They looked like ice themselves, the look behind them devoid of all emotion except hatred.

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It was Caela that recovered her shock first. When Sebilla threw him off of her naked form she was the first to close her fist around Vylrath's throat. With a lightening fast motion she slammed her father to the floor, somehow managing not to break or dent the flooring.

"What in the nine hells are you doing? Are you an idiot?" Caela hissed and squeezed her father's throat, sending a concentrated jolt of her power into him. It would burn like hellfire in a way that only Vylrath himself had ever experienced, and had spent a lifetime trying to escape.

Caela glanced over at her daughter and motioned to Trydian.

"Give her your shirt, her dress is beyond repair." Caela kept her fist around Vylrath's throat, easily avoiding any attempt he would give at unseating her from her position astride his chest. If Orso came over due to the ruckus he might wonder at what she was doing, her power so concentrated as to be perceptible to other Vuri only. Caela was the most adept and trained of all the Vuri, having been the only living Vuri on the Human plane for a long while.

"Stay down you idiot, we may survive this yet if you don't say a word. You just attacked the King's acknowledged bridge between worlds. She is still under his protection. Do you want to get Igraine killed?!" Caela growled and snatched at her daughter's ruined dress, almost wishing she could suffocate her father within the folds of the gown. When she felt the crystal ball in the tattered pocket she plucked it out and smiled.

So this was what had made Vylrath go into a frenzy. Caela recognized the power as purely demonic. She glanced down at Vylrath writhing in hissing furor under her and she glanced up at Sebilla, who's eyes were locked on Vylrath in pure earth shattering malice. When the concentration broke and Sebilla glanced up at Caela, their eyes locked and Caela raised one brow.
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Sebilla was unaware of anything but Vylrath for the span of several heart beats. She heard a sound that she would later be incapable of placing, and looked at her mother.

The nod that followed the question in her mother's eyes was calculated. They both knew what would transpire if Vylrath came into contact with that orb. Sebilla exhaled slowly and breathed in deeply, letting the air out in a calculated way, directing it at the orb in her mother's hand.

When her breath hit the orb, too far away by mortal standards to even be possible, the crystal frosted over, looking like a piece of perfectly round ice. There was a groan, like the metal of doors opening. Then she nodded again and looked at Vylrath, the malice returning to her gaze.

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Caela grinned and pressed the Orb right between Vylrath's eyes. He wanted the power? He could have it. The demon within was a sniveling coward anyway, she could feel that. He was lucky that Sebilla had been caught off guard and pissed off enough to open the gateway holding the demon inside the Crystal. No one else would have been able to do such a thing, except perhaps King Pendaran.

It would not be a pleasant experience, but Vylrath would get over it.

It was best not to have him as a Vuri any longer. He brought the entire group down with his poor choices.

"Have what you always wanted, Father."

Caela spoke as she felt the demon held in the crystal shriek as he poured into the awaiting Vuri's skull.