Homelands Pt. 12

It had been too long since Daphne had eaten one of her children anyway.

"So what's the bet?" Iva eventually asked.

Daphne smiled. "Patience, my dear," she replied as she raised her chalice to her lips. "Your friends won't be back with my toy for some time yet."

The blonde let out a sigh of resignation then nodded before finally taking a sip of wine. Still more energy seeped across the room, wafting through the cold air.

"My queen is too kind," Yvette said.

That made the other Daphne snort derisively. She seldom thought kindness foremost among her vices. In truth, aside from her near-obsession with music, and the gifted men who produced it, she didn't have too many.

The main Daphne wondered what "toy" Iva thought she'd been referring to. Was she back to thinking about the fiddle, which was certainly one of a kind but still ultimately unimportant? Or did she realize Daphne was referring to Quincy?

Did she yet know that the war Daphne sought to prevent, the illusory threat she'd invoke to justify uniting all the seasonal courts under her rule, had nothing to do with some misguided desire to repeat the mistakes of the Unshackled Maiden, and everything to do with the true mortal she'd stolen from a menagerie in the Glade?

No. If she did, surely she'd have some sort of reaction.

If that secret ever came out-which it ought not so long as the musician was so convincingly disguised as one of her sons, right down to the unnaturally blue eyes-it would be too late, of course. The war would have been averted. One might even have broken out between the Garden and the Glade by that point. Much to her amusement, several of Summer's children were hard at work steering the lesser houses of the Garden in that direction, while a few of Autumn's were doing the same on a smaller scale in the Glade. In no time at all, a dozen formerly independent courts would be blanketed in snow. And the former rulers of those courts would all be dead or in exile, leaving no one of any significance to oppose her.

As defeats went, hers was feeling pretty satisfactory.

She'd have preferred that no one leave, of course. But the woman sitting across from her had no idea how small a concession she'd demanded. How much she'd done to accelerate Daphne's consolidation of power, and ensure that there'd be no challenges to it afterwards.

For the longest time, Yvette regarded Titania and Oberon in silence. She seemed unsure what to make of the fact that they were chained so close together that they could almost touch fingers. It was a good thing there were so many more of her attending so many other matters, or her dallying might have tested Daphne's not inconsiderable patience.

True, such matters should never be rushed. And the girl had been dead not a minute before. But it wasn't like Daphne had set a great riddle before her. She ought to have been more eager to capitalize on the second chance at proving her worth. Daphne didn't extend too many of those, even to her more promising children.

"Who do you suppose ripped the membrane just now?" a different Daphne asked Iva.

A streamer of panic whipped across the woman's Libido.

"The one surrounding Winter," she clarified, though she knew that Iva understood perfectly well what she'd meant. "Who do you think might have done that?"

"I don't know," Iva said.

Still no decision from Yvette.

"You seem to have lost some of your characteristic mental acuity. Have you suffered some injury or perhaps a metaphysical malady?" Daphne asked, tilting her head to the side. "I suppose that would explain this ill-considered gamble of yours."

Iva took another sip of the wine. "You'd certainly think so," she mumbled under her breath. Then, more audibly, "Were you not able to tell who it was?"

"One of them lives, the other dies. A thousand times, before you Devour them," Yvette said, looking over her shoulder at Daphne. "And he gets to choose which one."

At first, Daphne thought it relatively conventional. Not horribly so, but still less than inspired. Until she saw the look in Oberon's eyes.

Did her daughter know that the man who'd already proven himself willing to sacrifice his life so that another might live would condemn his own mother to death? After she'd risked everything to rescue him from Winter? Or was it just a lucky guess?

Either way, it was too perfect not to use. And reward.

Daphne favored Iva with a thin smile. "I'd like to hear your thoughts all the same."

"Probably my nephew," she said after a pregnant pause, during which a different Daphne released Oberon and sent him on to the Hinterlands. "And the other four boys."

"I don't think she expected that," Yvette said with a grin.

Indeed not. The sheer fervency of Titania's hatred almost made Daphne cum. She would enjoy torturing that one to death a thousand times. And how.

"Go find Lance," Daphne told Yvette with a smile, though her eyes never left Titania's. "I need some time alone with the fairy queen. When I'm done, I'll come join you."

She might even let Lance impregnate them both. The ranks were starting to look thin, after all, and they'd have a much larger population to control soon. That depended on how much fun she had taking Titania's life for the first time, though.

Iva evidently had no idea that those whom she had come to rescue were not all together. She was probably also unaware that only one of them had come out of Winter alive. Granted, one had also returned from the dead-just a few moments ago, as it happened-but that was besides the point. Daphne was more amused by the fact that Iva had no idea that Cahill had died in the first place, or that the Hardt boy was dead. That Arawn Dreamsmyth, the Piper of Dawn, would never leave her frozen palace.

Or, most importantly, that Frank was headed towards them at that very moment.

"Oh?" Daphne asked.

Iva glowered at her. Which, in fairness, took some gumption. Then she washed what was apparently a foul taste down with more wine.

"You think he could do that by himself?"

"They had help?" Iva asked.

Daphne shrugged. "You tell me."

"They had help," she repeated, again using two identical statements to say two very different things. "Of course they did. From...one of yours?"

Daphne felt a flicker of anger towards Lena, but she quickly blew out the flame. Anger was the herald of weakness, and Lady Winter was not tempted by its warmth.

She was more interested in the fact that Iva had reached that particular conclusion despite believing Frank to be surrounded by more allies than he was. Perhaps Daphne had led her towards it, but even so, the alacrity with which she'd arrived there impressed Daphne.

"Indeed," Daphne said. "But don't worry. She'll soon find that my reach extends past Winter. And that I'm much less forgiving of when it comes to family."

"I'm sure," Iva said, frowning. She tilted her chalice back, though it didn't look like she allowed too much wine to pass her lips. Unfortunately. "Suppose I said I wouldn't answer any more of your questions unless you promised to leave her alone?"

Daphne barked a laugh, cold and harsh, the sort she'd never direct at a man. "You would take me at my word?"

Iva said nothing. Which might have been her way of proving that she wouldn't answer any more questions until she got her promise. Or perhaps not. Strangely, her Libido gave nothing away. At least not on that front. The one thing Daphne did pick out was the woman's true motivation, which offered a pleasant surprise. Beneath the immediate concern for her own welfare, and the frustration at her inability to determine whether she might make it out of this conversation alive, was something cold and calculating. It wasn't that she cared for Lena's wellbeing. No, nothing as insipid as that. Rather, she appreciated the rarity of what Lena had achieved and hoped to learn from her. Discover any weaknesses that Daphne might have or secrets she might have entrusted in her daughter.

In that, she'd be sorely disappointed. Loyal as Lena had been for many years, she had nothing to share. Because Daphne had no weaknesses. Least not that she'd ever dare allow anyone to discover, even her favorite daughter. And her secrets were her own.

Still, she admired the sentiment. And was encouraged by it.

"Perhaps I should have said something earlier," she told Iva, "but there are more straightforward ways of making promises credible."

"Such as?" Iva asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Imbuing the words with enough energy," Daphne said.

It never ceased to amaze Daphne that even those who had a modicum of power were often quite ignorant of such possibilities. Certain obvious applications occurred to everyone, but once you got that fairly limited set, all bets were off.

"Oh," Iva said.

"To break that sort of promise is akin to taking one's foot off a land mine," Daphne explained. Then, after a brief pause, she added, "Of course, I'd have to agree to subject myself to that. And I'm afraid that you've not offered me any reason to do so." The woman's Libido began bleeding more profusely as she no doubt guessed that Daphne was working her way up to a serious demand. "Scintillating though our conversations always are."

"I'm listening," came the reply.

She shifted a little more of herself into the Daphne tailing Frank. The work with Titania didn't take much concentration anyway.

Why he was still traveling on foot, she wasn't quite sure, but he was getting close to the palace, and he'd spotted the detached tower suspended in midair.

"We'll soon have a guest," Daphne said.

"We will?" Iva said, hiding an awkward frown behind her goblet. A sheet of fear ran across the surface of her Libido. Yet she still opted for the awkward humor. Daphne wasn't sure whether to admire or disdain that. Perhaps both. "Should I get out the nice silver?"

"I want you to conceive his child."

Iva reacted to that by conjuring up a stool of her own. That, and quaffing her wine. Her Libido evinced the expected shock, but her outward demeanor remained calm. "Why?"

Because when the boy was forced to choose between helping to raise the children his mother had born him and one Iva did, he'd pick the former. And that would wound Iva grievously, speeding her down the path to what she would ultimately become. Which, in turn, would allow Daphne to declare victory that much sooner.

Because Iva had never intended to have children, and thought her refusal to do so made her unique, though of course it didn't. Forcing her to give that up, to become a little bit more like other women, would cause her to question what she knew about herself. Particularly after she gave birth and immediately knew that her life had, in that moment, acquired deeper meaning than it had ever before possessed.

Because it would take her a long time to figure out that Daphne had not done her a favor. Years, perhaps. And once she did, she'd burn with shame and indignation.

Daphne shrugged. "No reason."

Iva frowned, as well she might. "On second thought-"

"What if I told you we're talking about Frank?"

Her eyes went wide and she nearly spilled her wine.

"Hmm?" Daphne asked.

She took a moment to compose herself, but her response was a foregone conclusion. She didn't even stop to think why Daphne was so eager to talk her into it. Once she heard that she was being asked to bear her nephew's child, she all but forgot the context under which it would be conceived. The poor thing.

They toasted to their agreement, touching chalice to goblet, then emptied both in one go. The look on Iva's face almost made Daphne admit that she had no intention of investing enough energy in the promise for its violation to kill her.

She did pour a significant amount into the words, and so if she ever did decide to go after Lena and her son, there'd be a world of pain waiting for her. But she was not yet sure whether that would deter her. It had been a long time since she'd felt true pain, but then, there was no amount of bodily harm she couldn't repair in a matter of moments. She'd have to wait and see how hard it was to let go of the sleight. At any rate, she gave Iva no indication that she'd tied her hands with a relatively loose knot.

"Are you ready for the bet?" she asked after it was done.

Iva nodded. When she indicated that she'd like more wine, Daphne happily provided it.

"You're going to become everything you think I am now," Daphne said. `Or near enough as makes no difference. Those who've escaped the terror of my reign will one day seek to flee yours. You won't let them, though. At first, you'll even think you're right to keep them there. Perhaps you'll tell yourself that they've no place else to go, thanks to me."

The other woman's Libido went cold, and Daphne experienced a small climax.

"Of course, in time, you'll just stop caring," she added upon recovering.

That part, she was less sure about. Actually, none of it was a foregone conclusion. She'd hardly be the first woman Daphne'd expected too much from. But she had a good feeling about this one. There was a darkness there, a need for recognition and strong resentment towards those who were quick to pass judgment on her. She saw herself as broken, imperfect, and full of insecurities, which she was, yet also mistreated and capable of greater good than anyone seemed to recognize. Which might well have been true also, for the time being.

Daphne remembered that juxtaposition well.

"No," Iva said. "You're wrong."

"I knew you'd say that," Daphne said with a smile.

Fear and shame and dread rolled off Iva in waves. Daphne soaked it in with delight.

That was when Frank finally appeared.

He immediately positioned himself between Daphne and Iva, claws extended and an impressive snarl rumbling in his throat. His death-wolf-beast form bore more than a passing resemblance to those of her sons, though one would never find black fur or brown eyes on a Winter wolf. Seen up close, with her primary pair of eyes, the sight was most pleasing.

Daphne might enjoy watching him put a child inside Iva for more than one reason. She might even join in herself, for the sake of comparison. She wondered what difference the color of his fur made, and whether she could convince him to remain in wolf form.

"Don't," Iva said, reaching towards Frank as she slipped off her stool.

Frank bared his teeth at her, but she got no snarl.

"We've worked everything out," Daphne said. His reaction to that was priceless. He wanted to hurt her so bad. That wasn't as good as fear, but any intense emotion made small fissures in one's Libido. "But I'll let her tell you."

The hours that followed were among the sweetest Daphne had ever known.

And that was before she brought Winter to the other courts.

*****

At some point, Daphne's new subjects realized there was no war coming. She wasn't sure whether they'd received word from a moonlit or sunlit source about the deal she'd struck with the one and only house that had any real grievance against her, or if they'd perhaps caught wind of the intermittent clashes that would soon escalate to an all out war between the Garden and the Glade, leaving them far too distracted to worry about lesser immortals even if there had been a larger issue of contention. Maybe it was just that one too many days had gone by without the supposedly imminent attack occurring. It didn't really matter how they'd arrived at the inevitable conclusion, though. They had, and it was too late.

Not that Daphne thought she'd have had any trouble crushing crushing a nascent rebellion on that very first day either. But after they'd gotten used to thinking of her as their queen, rather than the mysterious and terrifying menace which haunted a faraway corner of the Homelands none of them ever planned to visit, and to looking out their windows to find steep slopes and unending snowdrifts rather than the more pleasant climes and gentler topographies they were so accustomed to, things changed. Few would admit it, but on some level, many of them had already accepted the unacceptable. Under false pretenses, yes, and even before they'd known that-or what she had in plan for them after the honeymoon ended-that acceptance had been somewhat begrudging. But even so, the brave fools who rose up against her were not backed by as many as they might have been just a week prior.

She had mixed feelings about that. When a direct challenge presented itself, there was but one way to respond. Still, necessary though the crude violence was, it was hardly the sort of thing she enjoyed. No creativity or strategy was required for such a vulgar exercise of power, especially against such inferior opponents. They were not only outnumbered, but poorly organized, and hardly any of them possessed a significant amount of power.

However, many of her sons and daughters reveled in extreme violence, deriving as much pleasure from inflicting pain as she did cultivating a sense of dread that started small and slowly grew unbearable. They'd been chomping at the bit for just such a day. So while Daphne herself found it all a bit tedious, she looked forward to the orgy that would follow.

From a dozen different bodies, several of which were quite active and independent, Daphne watched them play with their fragile little toys. Even took part herself, some, breathing life into some of her own personal nightmares so as to ensure that the stories told by the survivors would portray her in the right light.

There, atop the body of the father who could no longer protect her, a dark-skinned Summer woman was being raped by one Daphne's daughters while another slashed her face with sharp claws every time she screamed. Elsewhere, a huge bear wearing a diamond helmet and breastplate was feasting on the corpses of a few fey children. Meanwhile, the closest thing to genuine resistance offered by any of the rebels batted aside a wolf with one fist and a snow leopard with the other. The thirty foot tall robot, piloted by some middling son of Autumn, would not last long, of course. Lance would see to that as soon as he was done dealing with the trio of fairy knights that had surrounded him. But for the time being, it was offering her opponents a measure of false hope, and that stayed Daphne's hand.

Yvette tore a centaur's giant phallus off and used it to blind the pixie fighting beside him. Then she bit the head off while the sexless man, who'd returned to his natural form, watched. That was, by Daphne's count, the third time her daughter had consumed a body part-the mushroom cap had been preceded by a nipple and a tongue. It seemed the girl hardly ever used those combat knives, so great was her hunger for flesh.

Everywhere the Daphnes looked, they found war-bears overwhelming Autumnal defenders and bronzed gunslingers, or ice soldiers crossing blades with knights of Faerie or dark-skinned ninjas; snow leopards drawing mothers away from their crying children so that a wolf could swoop in and put an end to their tears; rape, necrophilia, and cannibalism abounded. Carnage and mayhem were the order of the day. And it all just was so...gratuitous.

But it didn't last long. Their ranks soon broke, and Daphne called her children off a few minutes later. She didn't stop them from despoiling the corpses, many of which had already frozen, but word of what happened to those who dared defy her needed to get around.

*****

From the first, Aeife had thought something was wrong. But she'd nearly convinced herself that a lifetime of living under the rule of Titania had convinced her that the peace and tranquility they enjoyed in the Hinterlands had to be an illusion.

It wasn't until Morgan and Maisie disappeared that she'd truly begun to worry.