<u>CW:</u>


    Headmate wiggles. Talk of abuse and bite marks as trophies. Talk of Sex as rewards to a slave/abused gerl.


    “I… This… I have so many questions.” Tretion sputters after a few long moments of looking through the journal we’ve filled up with so many words.


    “Um… oke?” I reply and nod. “Is… um… is it oke?”


    Over a week of work on this. Trying to… to not just write out but correctly explain the ways this is both like my Beloved’s scratchy magic, and how it’s Fae Song, and… mostly how it''s neither of those. But we did it! Myself and this pretty Keshada in the mebe parts of my soul worked out how to mangle the inside feelings into outside words! Sprang up from our nook here above this sleepy community I claimed and hunted my Watcher through the manor. Nearly tackled her in a brumble of joy while shoving the completed journal into her arms.


    A big journal of us trying to write out how to make Amwella lightning.


    Then we got some food, came back to our chambers, and now I sit waiting for her to tell me its a mess but one she loves and like… maybe lets us try again.


    But those crimson eyes dance up from my messy handwriting to meet mine. “Beloved… There are exactly twenty-two tomes and Incantations I can recall that took me longer than a week to parse. Only two of them remain beyond me, but they were written by entities who bore skills and Amwella beyond anything one such as I could mimic. And that does not include the dozen I quickly discovered were flawed and therefore unworkable. This… Is a masterwork. You’ve taken magic I assumed either unique to specific gifted individuals, or so costly it was beyond reason to even consider, and made it not just castable for a novice but also cheaper than I expected.”


    “I… Wh– what?” I stammer and look away to try and hide a blush. “No it’s just… m– messy… Nothing im– important.”


    My pretty Keshada gives me such a look from within, nudges me and hisses playfully. [Do not think to insult our work, Dear. Your Watcher has the right of it.]


    And before I can nudge her back Tretion is reaching out to raise a finger to my cheek. Cold scales draw me to reflexively lean into the touch.


    “Beloved, you can feel that I’m not speaking flattery.” She murmurs with a grin while tendrils that curl about me wiggle to match her Amwella spoken words. “I expected this to be messy. Confusing. You trying to force your understanding of songcraft through the sharp edges of a Wretched Incantation. Something that by all rights probably wouldn’t work, but I would consume with delight. A gift to understand how your wonderful mind works. But this… Lyra. I’m struggling to explain how valuable this would be to anyone who practices the type of magic I do. You’ve begun to rebuilt a long burnt bridge between two very different magics.”


    B– but… I… No. It really is just stupid nonsense. I took your silly mangled thing and just… smoothed it out! This week of translations has been so much harder than… than…


    [Exactly, and yet you’ve done both.] Furthonois replies. [And with only a murmur of help from me after I outlined and explained the concepts of Incanting.]


    No idea how to reply to either of them. Except to… to just squeeze everything tight. Falling into a hug of arms and tendrils and soul tails.


    Only after holding back a mess of tears able to mumble out. “C– couldn’t d– do w– without F– furrr– tho– n– nois.”


    My Beloved Bound’s soul wiggles in all sorts of emotions at that, but she nods as something solidifies in her. “I’d like to actually ask her about this. Know what parts come from her side of this collaboration. And… grow to understand how we can continue to help her as well.”


    I’d… long ago told my beloveds about the memories I’d experienced after gobbling up my pretty Keshada’s soul. Both to try and understand what it all meant but… also because it worried me. How alike we were. Both just… trying to find our happiness. And once the spirits from the shadows started bubbling, I so easily understood how she got hurt and twisted into the cruel Godthing I met.


    Furthonois thinks on my Tretion’s words for a long time, then… carefully and hesitantly offers me her reply.


    “Um… Oke. S– says thank y– you.” I whisper slowly and try to keep my words steady. “Jjust… W– wants wh– what I promised. S– safety. N– no s– sending b– back to the shadows. Wh– wants to help keep little J– jelly– fish safe. W– will k– keep h– helping. W– w– wants to watch and j– just… r– rest.”


    My Watcher nods, and seems to try and tilt to aim her gaze past me. Right at Furthonois. “Of course, that is our arrangement. But let me be… clear. I’d rather you ask us for something, than scheme around me or Lyra to gain it. You mayhaps be one of the oldest beings I’m hosting within my manor. Have… a long and storied history of abusing those beneath your divinity. Killed and hurt and tortured so many we’ve spent a decade trying to keep safe. But, you are not the only one here with blood on her talons. And I would like to claim the former Goddess of Theradas as an ally whom I don’t need to worry about wounding my beloved from within. And to be blunt, your primary scheme already failed, yes?”


    I tilt my head in curiosity, not knowing what scheme she’s talking about. But… Furthonois bubbles with sudden fear and guilt and–If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    “The mark, I mean.” Tretion adds, “You’re blessing of the Old Road my Beloved gained from you the day she bought my freedom. You gifted that odd thing out to all who showed the same strength you did, for hundreds of years now. And everyone assumed it was just… an oddity. But it was woven because you knew you’d eventually die. A plan to ensure your safety past your death within your new host.”


    Oh. Well… yeah. That was obvious. I say to my Keshada.


    Furthonois stills, terror twisting to… curiosity. Confusion woven from a gap of understanding why this wasn’t something we threatened her about before.


    “B– because h– helping now.” I reply to her unspoken question.


    “And we don’t delight in petty cruelties to former foes.” Tretion nods and agrees. “It’s wasteful, and I hate treating people so… causticly. You are welcome so long as you continue to not harm my beloved or others within my manor. Would even like to attempt to convince you to help me test some research when Lyra finds the time and patience to speak for you.”


    My Keshada kinda… sputters out at that. But all in good ways.


    “N– needs time.” I giggle. “All wiggly. K– kinda scared. B– but thinking y– yes?”


    “She can take her time, as will I.” Tretion smiles and taps the book. “Thank you both for this. It is a wonderful gift.”


    **    **    **


    “She looks… so much better.” Raska whispers, those spark eyes locked on the little place between the trees my Beloveds have drifted off in.


    “She really is.” I agree.


    “And… you? Awnya?”


    I consider myself, inside and out. Brush the memories of death and rotting eyes and the souls I stole from this Dream. Flinch through my unrestrained smirk to her and shrug. “Better, still sore, still… a mess. At times. They have to catch me from tumbling. But I''m healing. Will just take time.”


    Raska nods. “Good. Good. If there is something you need just ask, yeah?”


    “You already know pretty much everything we wanna do.” I chuckle. “Even if you weren’t far more than a duenna to us, waking up to see Lyra nuzzled happily in your arms a third of nights gives you a good ear for the songs we’re singing.”


    If she could blush, I think this Everflame would have a bit, but instead I just get to enjoy how that little flame between dark horns dances while her eyes glimmer.


    “I…” She whispers after a second, then turns to look back to my Beloved’s. “Is that alright?”


    “Why wouldn’t it be?” I press.


    She sighs and huffs so hard a few sparks sputter out. Looks down at the meal we’ve long stopped picking at.


    “I mean it, Raska.” I reply to the unspoken anxieties I can literally feel bleeding off her. “Lyra isn’t keeping you around cause she’s lacking for good cuddles. Our girl adores you. And your words were exactly what she needed to hear in the days after seeing the old cunt again.”


    “But… the burns aren’t fully healed.” She challenges with such a pained look.


    “Nope, but neither are the scars in her heart.” I whisper back. “Maybe ever. But also, and you really need to get this. The rest of her was in really rough shape, Raska. Her skin was… flawless, when I first met her. And, trust you me, I got close looks at every inch.”


    This Everflame can’t stop a snort from bubbling up. “I… yeah? Just… Dreadweave’s Tits, she’d been alone with Thendra for years by the time I met her. Would never have guessed she was Fae unless she sang or told me herself. Just… looked pretty much human. And a pretty well weathered one at that.”


    Don''t even hide my wince at those words. “Keep that between us, yeah? She’s… sensitive about it. Doesn’t seem to want much more from her body except what she wove but… lots of cruel types have taught her to think she’s lesser because of it.”


    Raska takes then in for a bit before whispering. “Like Thendra.”


    I tap my nose. “Exactly, others too. But Lyra had to shift flesh from just… soft snuggly desires to harder things. Shapes meant to survive the stuff Thendra wanted her doing, and did to our girl herself.”


    Raska nods, takes a breath before asking. “And… the bite marks all across her? Those look worse than before.”


    Really really nasty things. As her skin slowly has shifted to seem more vibrant and like I once new her, burn scars fading to only slightly off colored bits, those… big things have seemed to grow more red and angry. Looking only a few days healed and barely scabbed over.


    We’ve tried to ask her about them but she kinda shuts up like a clam every time.


    “From… What we guess.” I reply carefully. “They’re kinda a good example of why we wanted to keep you from pestering her early on. Those marks are like… trophies to her. We think. Things mangled up with her complicated feelings about the big cunt.”


    “Ah.” Raska growls like others curse. “Things she earned. I… yeah. Alright. I never fell into that but I have siblings that keep all their best scars. From both fights outside and… and inside.”


    I sigh and nod. “That’s our worry. That she doesn’t see them as like… bruises or scars beaten into her. Because the big cunt used sex, and the really rough kind, to reward her for obeying.”


    That makes Raska slump a bit. “Yeah. Then I’ll keep this the way it is then. Avoid adding to them.”


    “Huh?” I turn, confused.


    “Our sex was… Look, I love a rough fuck, Awnya.” Raska explains, looking down. “Not always, of course. But when I find a gerl able to handle my blaze and wanting that I… get stupid. Lose control sometimes. It’s why Wren and I mix so well. She loves my Amwella like others like spicy food, and her cool form is basically immune to everything I could ever try to throw at her.”


    “And… Lyra did too. Didn’t she?”


    “Yep.” She nods. “Lots of it too. Always healed up quickly from what I could see. Both in body and soul.”


    “Huh.” I repeat. “Well, so long as she’s wanting to I don’t see a problem with you two getting closer. Especially with how her soul can hug you tight as she likes now. Just make sure to talk before anyone starts biting. Both for her and yourself.”


    Raska shakes her head. “Naw. Nope. Gonna… be a responsible girl and not think with my cunt or… whatever I have in the moment. Want to make sure she’s stable before asking about that.”


    Purse lips and think for a bit. Easily hear the stubbornness in Raska’s words, but also the pain. How much she wishes…


    “Things… will never be like before, Raska.” I start carefully. “Can’t be. For lots of reasons. And if you don’t want sex with her that’s okay. She understands that. But the worst thing you could do, if our girl bubbles up with the courage to ask you for something you both want, is tell her no because you think she’s not ready. Or won’t handle it well. Or might get a little bruised. She’s… hurt. Messy. Doesn’t see herself with a kind eye. But she’s not a child, and not a slave. The best thing we can do is let her make some mistakes with us. Heal and grow together.”


    “I… Are you sure?” She whispers, those stone talons digging into the grass. “Is she ready for a cunt like me getting that close again?”


    I shrug while moving to stand. “No idea. But that’s her song to sing. Just… be ready to catch her when she might tumble. Slow down if it’s too much for you. Alright?”


    Raska nods. “Y– yeah. Alright. You’ll… keep an eye on us both? Make sure I don’t overstep?”


    I can’t help but giggle at that. “What, by the Dreamer and Her bouncing tits, did you think we''ve been doing?”