Homelands Pt. 08 Ch. 02

For that matter, he couldn't go around looking like Cahill. His true form was too young and fit and handsome. So with some effort, he restored the mortal disguise his subconscious mind had dropped at some point during the night.

After he finished up in the bathroom, he pulled on a clean shirt and went downstairs. In the kitchen, he found a note from Caronwyn. She'd taken the kids to the park and wanted to know if he could start dinner.

Indeed he could. And much more, since he now knew that he had the house all to himself.

By the time she got home, he'd thoroughly cleaned the house, installed a new showerhead, put new tiles down in the kitchen and both bathrooms, repainted their bedroom, and prepped dinner. All without lifting a finger. In the remaining time, he reorganized the garage, which she'd long complained he'd "taken over" with all his "music stuff", and built a new set of bookshelves for her. That much, he did the old-fashioned way. Not only did he enjoy working with his hands, even if the end product wouldn't be a musical instrument, but he wanted to be able to say that at least one of the surprises had required some actual effort on his part.

He'd just finished sweeping up the sawdust when his wife pulled into the driveway.

"I'm watching Ninja Turtles!" Ty screamed as he jumped out of the minivan's sliding door. "Hi Dad! By Dad!" he added as he passed by Cahill.

That put a smile on his face.

Which he promptly hid when Caronwyn approached him, holding Niall against her chest. The set of her lips said that she didn't want to display any emotion. That was a sure sign that she was furious with him.

"Did you see my note?" she asked.

It was a wonder that frost didn't form on the windshield behind her. That her breath wasn't visible in front of her face.

"I did," Cahill replied.

"Well, I guess we can have pizza. Again. But you're picking it up."

"Dinner's sitting on the top rack of the fridge," he said. "Ready to go in the oven."

Caronwyn cocked an eyebrow at him. "Really?" she asked slowly.

He took a tentative step towards her and placed a hand on Ty's back. The boy was asleep. Adorable was what he did best, and he did it better than usual when sleeping.

In a whisper, Cahill said, "I've a few surprises for you."

She didn't reply.

He turned around and gestured towards the garage. "Notice anything different?"

"I...," she said after studying it for a bit. "We weren't gone that long."

Cahill leaned over and planted a quick peck on her cheek. His lips tingled as they made contact with her soft skin. Even after living together as husband and wife for years, she still had that effect on him. Always would, he suspected.

"Hope you weren't looking forward to cleaning tomorrow," he said. "I mean, I know how you love sweeping and mopping, but-"

"Stop," she cut in. "Now you're just fucking with me." Her eyes finally found the bookshelves he'd just assembled. "Where did you get those?"

By way of response, he wiped some sawdust off his shirt.

"You did not," she said. Excitement was starting to creep into her voice.

"If you'd stayed at the park a bit longer, I'd have unpacked some of the boxes of books you've got up in the attic. But you'd only want to rearrange them anyway."

She had her own complicated system of organizing books, and it would have driven Mr. Dewey mad. It depended as much on the height of the book, the color of its binding, and the publisher as it did the author, title, or genre. She'd tried explaining it to him once, but to no avail. He never laid a finger on her books anymore, unless she told him to.

"Seeing as I never expected you to cede an inch of territory, the shelves alone count for plenty," she said. "You didn't really build them yourself? Where'd you get the lumber?"

Cahill smiled, planted a hand on the small of her back, and said, "Come inside."

First, they placed little Niall in his crib. For a minute or tow, they just stood to either side of him and admired their beautiful son while holding hands with one another. Then Cahill pointed to the door, his mother nodded, and they crept softly out into the hall, easing the door to behind them.

Then it was time for the tour. They skipped Ty's room, lest they disturb him while he watched his DVD, but they made at least a quick stop in every other room. With each one, Caronwyn's Libido grew warmer. There was something else building as well. Confusion, maybe. Or suspicion. But when they got to the bathroom, whatever it was slipped back below the surface, and his mother cried tears of joy.

"How did you do this?" she asked.

"Magic," Cahill replied.

Caronwnyn slapped him. "Stop! I'm serious."

Cahill cupped her beautiful face in his hands and studied it a moment before planting a kiss on her lips. Even now that he remembered her true face, he still thought the one before him was incredibly beautiful. If she were to look this way for the rest of time, he'd love her no less. He'd actually miss this face after they returned to Faerie.

He ran a hand through her red hair. It wasn't as perfect or as thick in this form as it should have been, but it was still beautiful. "I love you, you know."

She smiled. "I love you too. Even if you do drive me crazy sometimes." A quick kiss graced his undeserving lips. "But you are going to tell me how you did this," she added, poking him in the chest. "Did you hire someone? Or perhaps a lot of someones?"

"Nope. All me."

"Come on, Chris. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Not at all," he said. "But we've got to fix some things up here," he added, sliding his hands up to her forehead. "This might feel a little funny."

#

"You're not going to need that," Oona said, looking her son over.

"I'm not leaving the house dressed like this?" Reilly asked in that snotty tone of his. Just because she rode his dick more often than anyone else's ever since Finnegan fell for Brittany, he thought he could talk to her however he damn well pleased.

He was, as always, wreathed in green flame. That much, she had no objection to. What she found ridiculous was the huge double-bladed battle ax he held in one hand, the claymore in the other, and all the armor her wore. A black breastplate, decorated with red lacquer, a chain mail skirt over leather breeches, black greaves, a spiked pauldron on one arm, and a pair black gauntlets. It was like he'd just stepped out of the player's guide to some stupid roleplaying game. Not that she'd ever admit to either of her sons that she knew what those were, seeing as they had no idea how boring her life had been in the Dreaming.

Silly as his outfit was, she like the way it left his arms bare from elbow to shoulder. His beautiful tattoos were thus exposed. On one arm, he had a roaring lion. On the other, a Celtic cross wreathed in blue-green flames. And hiding either from view constituted a serious crime, so far as she was concerned. If there was actually going to be any need for armor, of course, it would have been stupid to leave so much skin uncovered. The same went for his lack of a helm. But as convinced as she was that there'd be no bloodshed, and as much as she loved staring at her son's bare arms, bald head, and thick chin-beard, she couldn't quite bring herself to say as much.

"You can wear whatever you want," she said. "I'm just telling you you're not going to need it." With a smile, she added, "You do look good though."

He smiled back.

It was all a bit over the top, but he did look good. Fierce. Warlike. And fucking hot. When it was done, she might let him to fuck her while wearing the getup.

Herself, she wore a simple white dress, a belt of woven flowers, and nothing else. Her weapon of choice, the bow and arrow, would not accompany her. She'd wear no armor. They weren't going to battle, after all. If there was any contest, it would be one of wits.

She hadn't really needed Seamus to point that out to her, though it had been reassuring to hear it from someone else. Someone who'd been around nearly as long as her, and had paid more attention to such matters than she had in that time.

Part of her wanted to change her mind. To send her niece and nephew in her stead. No one would be better suited to deal with Titania than Seamus and Fiona. But it was for precisely that reason that they had to remain behind.

There'd be no battle this day. Of that, she was sure. But that didn't mean they'd all be returning. The Lady of Shadows would not release her prisoner voluntarily. Her mother was the only person who'd ever posed a real challenge to Titania. And if it turned out that the only way to secure her release was for someone to take her mother's place as the queen's prisoner, or to risk doing so in some gamble, it was best for everyone if that was Oona. The clan needed Fiona and Seamus more than it needed her.

Her stomach tied itself in knots and it grew hard to breathe.

Why had Caron run off and left her in charge? Who did that benefit?

Oh, she knew that her sister hadn't actually run off. That her bastard of a husband, their rightful prince, had something to do with her disappearance. But when she got to feeling sorry for herself, it still felt like Caron had done it just to spite her.

"Thanks for waiting," Gallech said, appearing out of nowhere.

Oona gave a start. She wasn't sure if she'd ever get used to that. Nevermind that she could do it herself at this point. It always took her by surprise when someone popped into being where there'd be nothing but empty air a moment before.

It was a pretty safe bet that Fiona didn't have that problem.

Unlike her son, the dark-haired youth was not dressed for war. Until he saw Reilly, that was. He took one look at his cousin, frowned, and then did his best to outdo him. One moment, he wore nothing but a loincloth, the next he was covered from head to toe in red steel. The sword in his hands was taller than he was, and not just because he was short. Its blade was blood-red, like his full plate armor.

If Reilly looked a bit goofy and a lot sexy in his battle dress, Gallech just looked creepy. His pretty face was hidden by his great helm, and there was no telling that he had perfect abs, swollen pecs, bulging biceps, and powerful thighs beneath all that steel. And without any impractical gaps in his protective gear, he looked like he meant business. Next to him, Reilly looked like he was playing dress-up. Which he probably was.

"Better hope no one knocks you over," Reilly said.

"And you'd better hope no one swings at your arms or your head," Gallech replied.

"Like to see 'em try to hit me," her son replied.

To which Gallech replied by mentally whipping a stone from the ground at his cousin's head. Reilly saw it coming and tried to duck, but it still grazed the top of his head.

"Ow! You fuck. That hurt!"

Was this the army she was leading against the greatest queen Faerie had ever known? Could she really put her mother's fate in such unworthy hands?

Oona drew a deep breath. "Boys!" she said.

"Sorry," Gallech.

She figured he was probably lowering his head, but she couldn't tell.

"I didn't do nothin'!" Reilly insisted.

There were many things she loved about her son, but his maturity was not one of them.

"Let's just go."

She stretched out one hand toward her son and one toward her nephew, waited for their cold gauntlets to dwarf her palms, then teleported them to the grove Oberon had described.

His description had proven sufficient to get them there, as she knew it had. Still, some part of her rejoiced at the success. The little girl in her felt like jumping up, kicking her heels together, and shouting triumphantly. But in stories, heroes never felt like that. They were always somber as they entered the villain's lair. She did her best to follow suit.

Which wasn't hard, once she caught sight of her mother.

What was hard to fighting back the urge to vomit.

Her mother was tied to a tree, her bonds loose enough to let her droop forward at a sickening angle. With her body limp, her head hanging slack, and all that blood on her dress and thighs, she looked like she was dead. Oberon had assured her that the queen wouldn't kill her, and the prince was no more capable of lying than the rest of the fey, but Oona would surely have assumed the worst otherwise.

"Grandma!" Reilly called out, as if he'd know her from a perfect stranger. Weapons raised high, he charged towards the great oak.

Not to be outdone, Gallech followed on his cousin's heels.

"Wait!" Oona shouted too late.

The two of them went flying through the air. Not ten or twenty feet either. They might as well have been golf balls struck by a driver held by Tiger Woods.

"No!" she cried, taking a few pointless steps after them.

Realizing she might suffer the same fate, she froze in her tracks. Hand over her mouth as if to keep any other inadvertent cries from slipping out, she looked all around.

For a moment, she was alone. Then she saw a shadow rise up off the ground and take the form of a small woman.

Queen Titania was a few inches shy of five foot, but her presence was nothing less than imposing all the same. At first glance, she looked like a dream. Cartoon fairies were less colorful and sweet-looking. Her fingernails and irises constantly changed color, as did several locks of her hair. They shifted from soft pastels to deeper hues to glowing neons. The coruscating colors almost blinded her, as did the gleaming white teeth she showed when she smiled. But then Oona noticed something else about the queen's fingertips. They didn't so much end in fingernails as claws.

And her Libido. Sweet mother, that thing was huge. If most fey contained a well of energy within them, Titania held an ocean. Several oceans.

"Your boys are fine," she said in a voice that Oona would have considered beautiful under any other circumstances. "But I'm afraid they're mine now."

Oona started to protest, but thought better of it.

She'd come to rescue one member of Clan Walker, and she'd already lost two others. Tears welled up in her eyes. But what could she do?

"I...I told them...they shouldn't have brought steel here," Oona said.

It wasn't a lie. She'd strongly implied that she'd told them not to do so, but she hadn't actually said that. Would the queen see through that? Punish her for being deceitful?

She was in so far over her head.

"Do you think that's why I'm keeping them?" Titania asked as she closed the distance between them. Sharp claws tilted Oona's chin back so the queen could look into her eyes. It felt wrong to stare down at the woman, no matter how short she was. The fact that one eye was dark pink while the other shifted from soft purple to neon green didn't help. "Don't be silly. I've chosen to accept them as an offering, lest you and I get off on the wrong foot. Besides, I've been too long without an honor guard."

The hand that wasn't cupping Oona's chin rose into the air. For a moment, the claws became ordinary digits again, allowing the queen to snap her fingers.

That made Gallech and Reilly arc through the air like twin missiles. They landed roughly, various parts of their bodies sinking into the soft ground.

Another snap of Titania's fingers put them on their feet, took the dents out of their armor, and upgraded Reilly's outfit to match Gallech's. The two of them both wore full plate and a great helm now, one red trimmed with black and one black trimmed with red.

A third snap rearmed the boys. The weapons they'd brought with them had been dropped from midair when she'd sent them flying hundreds of yards. In Gallech's hands, a black greatsword even larger than his previous one appeared. The spikes near its base gave it a sinister look. Reilly was equipped with a two-headed axe nearly as tall as he was. Each of its red blades was the size of his breastplate. It had a skull atop the shaft.

"Black and Red, my knights, you are not to speak another word ever again unless I give you permission," Titania said without taking her disturbing eyes off Oona. "Understood?"

Neither replied.

"Did you find them poorly behaved?" Titania asked Oona, sounding as though she were genuinely curious. "You must not have trained them well." Finally granting Oona a brief reprieve, she looked over her shoulder at Reilly. "Black, get down on all fours." While still looking at Reilly, she added, "Red, stand on his back."

They did exactly as she asked. Reilly's limbs wavered, but his back somehow managed to hold despite the weight of his cousin and his armor.

"Now remove your armor," the Lady of Shadows said, "and suck each other's dicks."

Without a moment's hesitation, they again did as she said.

"Now, dear," Titania said, turning back to Oona, "we have matters to discuss."

She tried not to watch the horror unfolding in the grass before her, but her eyes refused to obey her commands. She'd long wondered if the sight of two men together would arouse her the way lesbian sex did so many men. She now knew for a certainty that it did not.

Of course, the coercive aspect wasn't helping either. Her throat was tight and an uncomfortable tingling flowed down from her head to her abdomen.

"Fortunately for me," the queen said, "no one would dare move against me here."

That seemed to require a response, but Oona couldn't think of anything appropriate.

"How did you find this place?" Titania asked.

Nothing came out of her throat but choking gasps.

"Well, I guess there's not much to discuss anyway," the queen said. A faery chessboard rose up out of the ground. It looked exactly like Clan Walker's, to her surprise. She wasn't sure what she'd expected exactly, but if nothing else it seemed odd that Titania's chess set had two Titanias on it. "You know how to play, yes?"

Oona nodded.

"Excellent. We'll make this simple. If you defeat me, you are free to leave. I'll even let you take one of your family members with you." She smiled wide, once again revealing teeth that glowed as brightly as her eyes sometimes did. "Your choice." That got a whimper out of Oona. "If I win, you get your very own tree alongside my dear old friend Aeife."

"Is she...?" Oona said, staring at her mother.

"Alive?" Titania asked. "Of course." An expression very much akin to sympathy appeared on her face. "The pain just sometimes gets to her. Most days, she toughs it out, but she hasn't got as much fight left in her as she once did, I'm afraid to say."

Oona looked closer at her poor mother and realized what had been done to her. What had been ripped out of her and tossed on the ground.

She vomited noisily onto the grass.

"Don't worry, love," Titania said, holding Oona's hair back for her. "I've nothing against your uterus. We'll find something else for you."

No. She wouldn't. Oona wasn't as wise and mature as her sister, or her sister's eldest daughter. But if there was one thing the onetime four-eyed geek was good at, it was chess. She would not let this go the queen's way.

"Checkmate," Titania announced some fifty moves later. "Well done, sweetling. Well done indeed. Do you know how long it's been since anyone has lasted more than thirty moves against me? Even Oberon seldom reaches twenty."

Oona couldn't breathe. For most of the game, she'd led in materiel. She'd honestly thought she might win, right up until the last six moves.

The queen snapped her fingers and Oona found herself hanging from a tree. To her left, her mother hung from her own tree, looking as much like a corpse as any living woman had. A dozen yards ahead of her, her son was buggering his cousin's ass while the queen stood watching. She couldn't believe it had come to this. After she'd come so close to redeeming herself. To being a worthy daughter to her mother.