Fae Chronicles 11 (end)

This is the last of my current stories that are in a "close to finished" state, now finally finished. It took me so long to write this, and now it's finally done. It was a fun ride, but boy howdy did this story fight me for every chapter. 

Next is gonna be a Path to Living chapter (it's been a year I'm so sorry, Xavier!) then the first chapter or two of my newest project (a YS/Worm thing, already has 7 chapters paid for), then genius/swordsman, not sure which order yet. Hopefully I can get all of that done this month, I should be able to given the break from the weekly stuff, but we'll see. 

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    The eventually settled upon peace accords were… okay. The Francois had been already broken down to poverty just from the occupation, which was not as gentle as Tanya thought was appropriate, but as a result got off from having to pay any actual reparations, merely territorial concessions on the colonial front. Hardly ideal, but it’s not like the Francois comported themselves honorably, so a little bit of kicking them while they’re down was genuinely warranted. 

    The Albish, on the other hand, wasn’t completely shattered, and thus bore a substantial reparations load, the cost of which would inevitably be passed on to their colonies. There… wasn’t really anything that can be done about that, beyond hope that the increased tyranny they’d inevitably have to impose to recoup those losses would spark the fires of revolution. 

    International politics was a bit of a bastard like that. She couldn’t really do anything about the local power’s colonial holdings, as a faerie she didn’t really have much of a moral high ground, sure she could be honest and tell people that her human servants could just return their part of the deal and leave at any time, but she never actually had that many, and while most of them did ditch the deal at some point, Tanya just shrugged and moved on, exaggerating how bad she had screwed them by reclaiming her side when retelling the tale to the other fey. Telling people also had the problem of possibly getting back to the other fae, and that would be a social hit that she’s not keen to take. 

    Alas, her influence was still rather limited, so she’d be better served by entrenching her power instead of risking it on a moral crusade, particularly when she knew that purely human forces of change will do a lot of that work for her. 

    The Empire’s stepping down of their military proceeded well, both Visha and Elya were able to be discharged with honors; being imprisoned for so long earned a few medals, and Elya’s role was quite important, so she got some nice ones as well. 

    “Welcome home!” Count von Degurechaff exclaimed, giving Visha a big hug. Due to his investments being somewhat less devastated then most of his peers, he was able to retain his other estate that wasn’t destroyed by an invading Francois army. He then turned to Tanya awkwardly, looking her adult form up and down. “...Hug?” He asked, clearly uncomfortable. Part of the terms of their agreement was that he couldn’t treat Tanya as a disfavored daughter in comparison to Visha, so he was contractually obligated to offer Tanya a hug. That part of the contract was basically just fiat, but something as blatant as an inequity in welcomes was unacceptable back when Tanya was weak and him snubbing his obligations was an actual threat. 

    Tanya took the man up on it anyway, as she was in a good mood. “It’s good to be back.” She announced, reaching for the small child that was Visha’s little brother and mussing up his hair. “How’d the war treat you, Hans?” She asked jovially. 

    “Good.” He said simply. “You got real pretty, Tanya.” He added. 

    “Why thank you.” Tanya said, pleased. “You’ve been growing even faster than I, haven’t you?” Tanya offered as an empty compliment. Hans puffed up his chest in pride. 

    They followed in, Visha dragging her trunk behind her as she officially moved back into her family home… even if it wasn’t quite the same place. 

    Once the actual work related to the move was completed, an impromptu garden party was declared, and Tanya called up some of her more domesticated soldiers to play waitstaff. A brownie, one of her most culinarily inclined ones, was tasked to prepare a light meal for the family, and a twelve course spread fit for twenty people was brought out as they became ready. The Degurechaff’s actual staff were sent out to pick up ingredients, but after that was handled were invited to enjoy the meal with their employers. 

    “It’s quite good.” Visha’s mother said between spoonfuls of the soup, which was the third course. “The flavors are distinct without overpowering each other.”

    Visha pretended to agree, but Tanya could tell she thought it bland. She had already developed a dependence on fairie victuals, so while sayings like ‘all other food is as ash in the mouth’ was a bit of a poetic exaggeration, as it didn’t actually make mortal fare taste bad, unless it was bad on its own merits of course, but it certainly did remove the relevancy of the distinction between, as an example, the finest baguette and an ordinary military bread ration. Not the infamously bad kind, the kind that they serve to internal bases, where logistics are good. 

    Hm, could she… Tanya drew out a single mote of Myst glamor with a wave of a finger. She might be able to do this with an echo mote instead, but myst was basically nothing to her now, so she might as well. She shaped it into an exact match for the bowl of soup in front of Visha, and let the ephemeral magical substance infuse into the real food instead of becoming an illusion of matter. 

    On Visha’s next spoonful, her eyes lit up with joy at the flavors the new seasoning provided. She glanced at Tanya, who smiled and winked at her. Visha’s face flushed as she took another spoonful of soup, humming in contentment without trying to make a fuss about it. 

    “Did you always have these?” Count von Degurechaff finally mustered the courage to ask. “The servants?”

    “No.” Tanya said honestly. “They’re recent acquisitions, I won them in a duel.” After a moment, she corrected: “Well, the chef I’ve had a bit longer, but not when I first came into your household.” She smiled widely. “On that note, thank you for keeping to your part of our deal; a legal identity in the mortal realm was crucial for my operations here.”

    The Count seemed surprised, but after thinking it over didn’t seem to find anything nefarious in her phrasing. “I thank you in turn for acknowledging my contributions.” He said instead of ‘you’re welcome’. An annoying habit, but one she probably deserved. She was not exactly the kindest to the man in the early days of their deal. 

    Still, she had a point here. “None shall call House Argent ungrateful, nor stingy: I will grant you one additional boon in return for your exceptional service. Choose wisely.” Tanya made sure to make her voice sound extra snooty and official when she said this. 

    “I want my wife’s health to not be tied to my daughter’s service anymore.” He said immediately. 

    Tanya laughed at the honor demonstrated from the request. “Such selflessness! Someone not even of your own blood, to give your boon wholeheartedly to your stepchild… I am impressed, mortal. I’ll do you one better: Not only will I release my most favored servant from her obligation, I will gift you with an equal measure of health, yours until the day you die.” She had used an incredibly cheap set of glamor for Visha’s mother, and this was a good excuse to upgrade it anyway. She used some facade glamor, an easily afforded but not ignorable expense, and created a set of beautiful rings imbued with the glamor. “As long as you two wear these rings, sickness shall not touch you, injuries that would heal in weeks recover in mere hours, and you will retain the vitality of newlyweds for decades longer.”

    Shocked, but happy, the Count and Countess replaced their wedding rings with the significantly fancier copies. The Countess von Degurechaff beamed at the new jewelry, and looked towards Visha. “You’re not bound to Tanya anymore, Viktoriya.” She said happily. “You can do whatever you want now!”

    Visha’s grandmother palmed her face, immediately knowing what was about to happen. “Yes, I can.” Visha said, clearly thinking. “...Tanya, will you marry me?” 

    “Of course.” Tanya said easily. “I’ll arrange everything soon.” It was not, in fact, illegal for a fairy to marry a mortal. She’s personally attended two such weddings in the last year due to the surge of interest from the fae courts in mortal affairs, which was probably how Visha got the idea to ask. 

    The trick here, of course, is that weddings were just an excuse to party, and no one gives a damn about things like fidelity in these cases. The vast majority of marriages between fae are no different. At the highest levels, political agreements could be bound with a marriage, and those were a bit more serious, but for the most part it was less ‘solemn oath of matrimony’ and more ‘prance around to show off a new toy’. 

    “You’re done with the appetizer?” Tanya asked the Count and Countess, who had locked up in shock. “How about a nice palate cleanser? The salad!” Tanya ordered, and the handsome elfin fae bowed lightly and went to follow orders. “Visha, how much of a lead-in would you prefer? I’m going to need at least a week to send out invites to the other noble houses, but beyond that it’s just a matter of scheduling. Give me a month and we can hold it at Avalon castle.” The Spring Court’s Queen loved weddings, maybe Lurue would officiate? 

    Visha giggled at the casual flex of her status, and possibly the implicit power Tanya was handing over to her through the insinuation that the wedding would proceed with her every whim fulfilled. “Sometime this year, certainly, but more important than a particular time… I think I’d want my wedding to be sworn by God.” Visha said, “Do you think you can manage that?”

    Tanya processed the question, then grinned wildly. “Oh that’s genius. I’ll be the talk of the Court for decades!” Sure, Visha knew about their mutual hostility, or else she wouldn’t have known to ask, but…

    How to do it? 

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    Really, Tanya’s kind of embarrassed at how quickly she’s gone native. Not in the sense of being callous towards mortals, as she had far too much respect for humanity’s potential to ever disregard them as a whole, but in how quickly throwing parties had become important for them. From the beginning, she understood that fae “culture”, as it was, had more in common with a bunch of raiding guilds in an MMO’s roleplayer-catering server rather than any other human culture, as no one could expect to starve or otherwise die, so that the status-seeking behaviors that were natural to the human condition changed appropriately. 

    Sure, when she was… well, not quite at the bottom of the social hierarchy, but disfavored and ostracized, this was easy to dismiss as stupid and pointless. But after, to extend the metaphor, she finally spec’ed out her avatar with endgame gear, demonstrated competency in the PvP arena, and had a good showing with her celebration… well, it suddenly didn’t seem so silly. It became fun. 

    Her companies in the mortal world were now entrenched, it would take a concerted effort to expel her now, and her income was immense. Well, by mortal standards. By fae standards, she was still rather poor, but unlike before, she was in the same ballpark everyone else was, and could thus play the game. 

    Getting into contact with Elohim was simple enough: In her own territory, she started flying up using his power until she felt the borders of her influence, then knocked. 

    He didn’t bother with the old man puppet this time, his form of wings and eyes, which also marked her form as she used his power, on full display. “What do I owe the pleasure, Titania?” He asked. 

    “Well, it’s been a few months since our previous conversation,” Tanya began, “-and I’d like to extend something of an olive branch.” 

    “You?” Elohim asked, his voice dripping with incredulously. His voice, now that he wasn’t trying to conceal it, reverberated from each of his ten thousand mouths, the only thing that allowed her to understand him being her nature as a magical creature. “What was it you said? That anything I do would be solely to cause you misery?”

    “I did say many things with the aim of being hurtful rather than truthful in that conversation.” Tanya acknowledged. “I’ve had some time to think things over, and while I stand by the axioms of my argument, we’re both immortal magical beings now, and as such I feel like we should at least make an attempt to clear the air, like adults.” She pursed her lips, reconsidering her last statement. “Or would this be too soon? I’m still new to immortal timescales, as you well know, so forgive me that much, at least.”

    Having laid the rhetorical trap, Elohim glared at her with his ten thousand eyes, and even with all of his claimed omniscience, saw no escape. It wasn’t even that clever of one. “Very well. I still insist on the return of my power.”

    “No.” Tanya said simply. “On top of my legal ownership, it’s the only thing that permits me enough safety to enable this conversation. Demanding to throw myself at your mercy is hardly polite.”

    “It’s mine.” He insisted, “The difference in our power is as vast as the boundary between the heavens and the earth, you shouldn’t be safe.”

    “But it is not unreasonable, as part of a polite conversation, to ask that I may feel safe.” Tanya retorted, “So just as my property has enabled me to close the literal distance between us, it shall reduce the metaphorical distance as well. Despite the natural animosity that would naturally arise between those with histories like ours, we are both in a state to use our words, without fearing it to end in violence. Well, at least I don’t fear this ending in violence.”

    “You dare?” Elohim said, offended. “I do not fear you.”

    “Exactly.” Tanya said, smiling. “So with our metaphorical guns not in our hands, there is one thing I’d like to ask you about.”

    “Of course, you want something.” Elohim spat. 

    Tanya raised an eyebrow. “Well, you are the American’s chosen god, I suppose.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment. “I won’t insult you and pretend that I would try and reconcile so quickly without some outside impetus pushing me to do so.” But she will pretend that her much more minor question is her primary concern. “You mentioned that I did… this-” She gestured to her body. “- to myself. While that’s literally true for my current form, you said it before I did that. I wish to know more about that topic.”

    “Typical. Talk to one mortal and they want answers to everything.” Elohim grumbled. 

    Tanya snorted. “If you’ll stop being dramatic, I would offer something in trade, if I had any idea what you’d want from me. As I said before, I am willing to entertain a trade offer for my treasure, I am simply unwilling to part with it for free.” This was technically the truth. But speaking frankly, Tanya wasn’t sure what she would accept in return for giving up her ability to contest Elohim’s nonsense. It was super valuable. “Despite our differences, you are still elder to me, and I seek your wisdom. It’s not like I have any idea how reincarnation works.” Tanya’s clasped hands was a little flippant, not entirely serious, but also wasn’t quite mocking either. “Please enlighten this ignorant fairy, Grandfather.”

    Elohim considered Tanya’s begging. She knew that it wasn’t the kind of submissive demeanor he wanted from her, as she was not treating him as a divine being but instead merely an honored elder, and insincerely at that, but she also suspected that he would be pleased enough at any acknowledgement of his superior position that he would part with the information she sought. 

    A useful psychological trick for getting people to do things for you: first, make a small request of them. People naturally liked people they have helped, unconsciously reorienting their opinion towards one that made providing that help justified. It was hardly a foolproof method of manipulation, but it also was a minor enough step that there wasn’t much risk. 

    “...Very well.” Elohim said after a long moment of thought. “Initially, when I sought to incarnate you into the Empire, an immaculate conception, you struggled with all of your might.”

    “Naturally.” Tanya commented, more as conversational filler than anything else. 

    Elohim continued: “After preparing the proper vessel, I released your soul to fall into it, as that is how such things are done.” Now that was interesting. “Your insolent spite was so great, you destroyed the vessel before your soul settled in fully, and fled into Arcadia.” Hm. She didn’t remember that part… but she supposed that she should count herself lucky that she remembered Elohim’s involvement at all. “Many such souls in this world flee my judgement, impious wretches. Nearly all of them get immediately obliterated by the imposition of the Faerie King’s Laws, as those who would flee the Kingdom of Heaven would fight fruitlessly against him, and he is far more capricious, less forgiving and merciful than I.” Tanya disagreed, there was some stiff competition there. “A scarce few do what you did and adapt themselves, transforming into a faerie by submitting to their rules. Even then, only my blessing has allowed you to retain your human perspective, as twisted as that perspective is.” Did he really have to say it like that? Rude. 

    “Thanks for that, by the way.” Tanya said sincerely, smirking cattily. “I was perfectly willing to let you do your job and reincarnate normally, but, well.” Tanya gestured to herself. “Becoming an immortal feyri instead has been quite agreeable to me. I hope you didn’t end up punished by whatever authority imposes those duties upon you for your dereliction, because if you can’t arbitrarily abuse your authority, then what’s the point of bothering to seek it?”

    Elohim glared at her. “That is not the point of seeking authority and you know it!” He spat. 

    Tanya shrugged. “The vast majority of human authorities would disagree with that, and the pious are no exception.” It was one of her greatest frustrations in life, how many positions were sought most earnestly by those who would abuse their authority. She sneered at him. “I, of course, am twisted, and thus find that sentiment abhorrent.” She switched to a saccharine smile. “But in this case, I’ll forgive you, because it benefited me personally. In that, I’m still quite human.”

    “Your so-called “Olive Branch” reveals more and more thorns…” Elohim said warningly. 

    Oh drat, she got carried away. “You’re right, I apologize.” Tanya immediately said, “I thank you for the insight, senpai.” He was the one to bring it up before, so she’ll lean into that. 

    Appeased, Elohim grunted. “You would know the rest of the tale.” He finished, “Although if it matters, you were only in the pumpkin for a few days, and it took about two months for the Wyld Hunt to find you.” She had been wondering about that, although in the end that knowledge was unimportant. 

    There was just one unanswered question… “So you knew where I was all this time?” She inquired. 

    A few of Elohim’s eyes quirked in amusement. “I am all-seeing, young Tanya. Merely standing before me has put your entire existence within my sight. From your first incarnation all the way to this one, numbered one hundred and eight.” 

    Now that was interesting. “Was the reason you dithered in your duties due to recognizing me from a past incarnation?” She asked. 

    None of Elohim’s eyes met her gaze. “Irrelevant.” He lied. 

    “I don’t think it is.” Tanya retorted, “Something that always bothered me about our interaction is that while I wouldn’t say I was as polite as I would have preferred to be when meeting the ferryman, I couldn’t possibly have been exceptional in that regard. There are plenty of other atheists, plenty of arrogant twats in existence with pride enough to spit in your face, demanding to be returned to life, and I accepted my death fairly quickly, by my reckoning.” She always assumed it was more of a ‘last straw’ kind of thing, where he had to endure several entitled brats before snapping at her futile attempt to rationalize what she had been experiencing. But was there more to it? 

    Elohim growled at her words, his ten thousand mouths each uttering different profanities in a discordant roar. “Every time you vex me!” He eventually got out in a coherent enough fashion that Tanya understood it. 

    Hm… She drew on the power of Elohim’s blessing, and tuned it around her mental concept of psychometry. Her form mutated from the glamor she spent to shape the effect, and the feed from her new wing-eyes revealed to her what she wanted to know. “Oh. Oooooh. That explains so much!” She exclaimed, laughing. Affecting the accent she heard in her vision, she decided to quote her one hundredth and sixth self, a poorly educated woman who died in 1880: “Everyone I’ve ever met said you were real, and good, and I still had doubts! Only thing I needed to do was use my damn eyes and ears! You gonna take credit for passing those out, you ain’t gonna complain when they get used, are ya? Iffn’ I’d learn to read from something other than the Good Book, I’d have thought all o’ them was crazy, no matter how nice my life was. Only reason I died was cuz’ you said nothin’ when it counted, ‘less you wanna say that them slavers was right.” 

    Elohim’s ten thousand eyes closed, pained at the reminder she just gave him. “...What. Do. You. Want.” He said surprisingly evenly, the gnashing of teeth making him difficult to hear. 

    Tanya took a deep breath to end her laugh, and stopped affecting the southern American accent. “Well, let’s leave all of that behind us. Even you can’t change the past, so we’ll let history stand on its own merits.” Which was easy for her to say, as she was proven right. “I don’t want to spend eternity litigating the same argument, and I suspect you tire of it as well.” At least, he should tire of losing. “Truce?” She held out a hand, a weighty thing. 

    Elohim didn’t merely project his human-like form this time, but instead fully inhabited it. It was interesting, and Tanya reciprocated by reverting the mutations that marked her form when she used his power. Now that his expressions were once more decipherable, Tanya let him take his time as he looked at her hand and his own. 

    She sort of understood what he was going through: while to her, their conflict was petty, but with far reaching consequences, to him it was an extended campaign of trying and failing to assert his perspective against cold, hard reality. She wasn’t really an opponent to him, but instead more of… an art project, one that he kept trying to fix, always failing to match what he saw to the unformed vision within his head. By the time her current incarnation came about, she doubted that he even had a firm idea of what victory even looked like. 

    Slowly, he slipped his hand around her own, and squeezed, going along with her singular up and down motion to confirm the agreement. “...Truce.” He said, his voice much diminished, the first time she had ever heard his words sound like something that could have come from a mortal mouth. After an awkward moment, he withdrew his hand. “...What now?” He asked softly. 

    “Well, I am of the Fair Folk now.” Tanya began, “So I find myself wanting what I’ve always wanted: Status. In Arcadia, that means throwing great parties.” Oh good, he wasn’t cringing at the idea, that’ll make things easier. “It just so happens that I have a fantastic excuse for one coming up, and I’d like to extend an invitation.” She snapped her fingers and, hilariously overspending on the glamor, presented him with a formal wedding invite. 

    He took a moment to open the invitation and read it as a mortal would. “...You’re joking.” He said. 

    “I’m quite serious.” Tanya said, smiling widely. “Easter’s a lovely date for a wedding, don’t you think?” She’s not going to bring the ‘officiate’ request on him immediately. “I suspect having a proper Eastern Orthodox ceremony, given the circumstances, would pose some challenges, but it’s what Visha wants, so it’s what she gets.”

    “...Why?”

    “Why what?” Tanya asked. 

    “Why are you marrying her?” Elohim clarified. 

    Tanya shrugged. “Whim? My choices were basically to marry her or to break her heart, and I care for her too much to do the latter.” She hesitated, but continued: “I’m hardly some prize, as romantic prospects go. You know why.” 

    “Love has always been a distant thing, to one twisted like you.” Elohim said, although without the same level of spite as he would before. He was taking the truce seriously. 

    “It’s always been so mysterious.” Tanya agreed, “I believe I was… seventeen? When I realized that all those overwrought metaphors weren’t just people flexing their rhetorical skills to impress,” Although that was certainly a part of it, “-but an attempt to put what they genuinely felt into words.”

    Elohim looked serious. “...and when you think of Viktoriya?” He asked. 

    Tanya looked away, unable to meet his gaze for the first time in this conversation. “Ten thousand words would not be enough.” She whispered. Visha… every time she sought to distance them, Visha just closed it once more. 

    Tanya flashed back to the last discussion they had before she committed to getting Elohim to officiate. Visha’s words were… Well. “Even if you were the Devil himself, I’d gladly walk into hell if it’s by your side.” Tanya’s face warmed at the memory, only the tiniest shred of embarrassment that she was reduced to a blushing maiden by her fiance. But, that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to blush for, so she’ll allow it. 

    Elohim’s expression firmed. “I’ll go.” 

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    The more she interacted with Elohim, the less she respected him. She didn’t even think that was possible. Sure, she had initially chalked up her surprising success in getting him to stop trying to make her suffer to her ability to schmooze, which was one of her best skills, as it turned out he was just rather easy to manipulate if he gave you the chance to try. She was beginning to suspect that he had little to no experience engaging with peers in a non-hostile way. Even if she wasn’t really a peer. 

    Getting him to officiate the wedding was simplicity itself, all she had to do was mention how difficult it was to find a holy man willing to officiate a wedding between two women and he volunteered. But… as pathetic as he was, he seemed to regard her as a friend now, which was truly baffling, so she treated him in kind. 

    There was an actual chapel within Castle Avalon, as it turned out. King Oberson didn’t respond formally to the invitation she sent, but he might show up anyway so a place was reserved for him. 

    On Visha’s side, Tanya had to send out soldiers all over the Empire to collect her war comrades, as while she didn’t have much family left she had been quite popular among the hospital unit she had been a part of. 

    On Tanya’s side, she had invited, well, “everyone who was anyone”. As weddings were more exclusive than normal parties, she had a freer hand to snub people, which she gleefully did to the Lady of Owls, but for the most part she invited the important personages and seated them to further her own political ends. 

    In the Eastern Orthodox Church, there weren’t wedding vows exchanged, instead just several ritual actions, many of them repeated three times, that represented them becoming a “micro-kingdom of God”. Her favorite part was when Elohim asked them both if they were entering the marriage of their own free will, and Tanya could feel her own nature forbidding herself to lie: She couldn’t have said no if she tried. 

    Tanya couldn’t really say much about how the wedding went; it quickly became a blur to her. But one thing stood out: Elohim’s gift. The instant they kissed and finalized their oath, Visha’s mortal form burned away in holy fire, leaving behind the radiant, immortal flesh of an angel. Visha’s new wings wrapped around Tanya, holding them close, and if Tanya still had to breathe, she would have suffocated before they moved on to the party. 

    He finally got sincere praise to flow from her lips. It was fine, though: he deserved it.