VoC: B1 — 22. Faith’s Victory
Added 2025-09-11 05:38:50 +0000 UTCThe afternoon light filtering through the barred windows had grown dim when the soft knock came at Catelyn’s door. She set down her quill, the letter to her children still unfinished, and straightened in her chair with the careful precision that was second nature.
“Who is it?”
Jacob, one of the six Paladins currently on duty overseeing her confinement, responded in his deep, gravely voice. “Princess Miriam requests an audience.”
Catelyn’s smile grew, heart becoming soft as clay.
PoV:
1. Catelyn (Our MC's Glorious Mother!)
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The afternoon light filtering through the barred windows had grown dim when the soft knock came at Catelyn’s door. She set down her quill, the letter to her children still unfinished, and straightened in her chair with the careful precision that was second nature.
“Who is it?”
Jacob, one of the six Paladins currently on duty overseeing her confinement, responded in his deep, gravely voice. “Princess Miriam requests an audience.”
Catelyn’s smile grew, heart becoming soft as clay.
“Enter.”
The door opened to reveal Miriam, and Catelyn’s heart lifted despite everything.
Her niece wore an elegant gown of deep-blue silk with silver filigree—far too fine for a simple visit, but then again, this might be their last chance to see each other. She’d heard about the banquet, as well. It was a typical tactic to gauge how rulings were being received and the public sentiment of those in power.
All of that flew out of the windows of her brain upon seeing her young, fifteen-year-old niece.
“Aunt Catelyn!” Miriam rushed forward with her characteristic enthusiasm, though she stopped short of her usual embrace. The formality felt strange, but perhaps the circumstances called for it.
This may be for the best. It’s saddening that my turmoil will overshadow what should have been the happiest year of her young life.
“My dear.” Catelyn rose, practically glowing as she took in her niece’s beautiful transition into adulthood over the past few months they’d been apart. “You shouldn’t be here. Your mother will be furious if she discovers you’ve come.”
“I know, but I had to see you before…” Miriam’s voice caught, and she looked away, violet irises glistening. “Before tonight.”
“Darling, please, don’t ruin all that work you did with your makeup on my behalf… You should be celebrating. You’ve grown so beautiful over the years.”
“I suppose I should…but how can I when faced with such a reality? You were more my mother than my—no, I shouldn’t say that.”
Catelyn let out a heavy sigh. “Your mother has her own struggles. I am overjoyed that you feel so strongly toward my care. You were always there to support me with Damon during the summers. I know my secret must also make you feel some form of betrayal. It’s okay if you do feel that way.”
“No, I understand… I think I do,” she whispered, not meeting her gaze.
The girl settled into the chair across from her with perfect posture, hands folded neatly in her lap. Catelyn studied her carefully. Miriam had always been the most spirited of Evelyn’s children—the one who’d inherited their mother’s rebellious streak rather than her calculated ambition. She was also the one who’d been most vocal about the injustice of Catelyn’s situation.
“Hmm… Tell me how you’ve been managing,” Catelyn said gently. “I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”
“I’ve been well, Your Highness… Should I still call you that? I don’t know…”
The formal address struck Catelyn like a discordant note, and the follow-up question felt a little like her niece, uncertain how far she could push. Yet, Miriam had called her “Aunt Cat” since she could speak, even in the most formal settings. It was one of those small rebellions that always made Catelyn smile.
That, more than anything, struck at her heart.
Is she distancing herself from me? She called me Aunt Catelyn when she arrived, which isn’t Cat, but less formal than she is now. How can I soothe her fears?
“There’s no need for such formality between us. Though I do understand if you are feeling uncomfortable.”
“Of course, uh, no, Princess…” Miriam paused, as if catching herself. “Aunt Catelyn.”
Another wrong note. Never “Aunt Catelyn”—always “Aunt Cat” delivered with affectionate irreverence. Catelyn kept her expression warm while her mind sharpened, attempting to figure out exactly what had changed between them.
“Whatever you are comfortable with, sweetheart… What is on your mind? Please, I will be as open as I am able. Whatever laws sanction me, I love you and want to help you in any way I am permitted.”
“I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about everything that’s happened,” Miriam mumbled, shame painting in her averted eyes. “Mother feels terrible about her part in recent events. At least, I think she does, maybe… It’s hard to tell. She’s been tied up a lot with the court.”
Catelyn tilted her head. Now, that came from nowhere… First, she strikes out at her mother’s aloofness, as usual, then pivots to reframing her actions after I provide pushback. Typically, she would double down. Is she deflecting?
“Does she?” she whispered in response, her fingers curling in her lap as she reflected on her turbulent past with her eldest sister; there had been love there, yet it was secondary to her role as the eldest and a need for a respectful image. “That would be…comforting if true.”
“Maybe not,” the teen mumbled, rubbing her elbow and still refusing to meet her gaze. “I’d feel that way about my older sister. Like, she never intended for things to escalate this far. Grandma locked herself inside her room, with guards posted outside. The whole family is…struggling. I guess you were right that my mom would do that in her own way.”
She looked up, seeking validation. “Is that why she’s been so busy in court…and wasn’t with me, during my fifteenth birthday?”
The words were reasonable—almost natural—but delivered with a mix of confidence and insecurity that felt foreign in the wrong places. Miriam was always extremely formal regarding her grandmother, their queen. Yet, that last remark stabbed her in the gut; she could feel the dagger digging around her stomach.
“Evelyn missed your birthday? Darling…”
Reaching out, Catelyn took her cold hands, searching her niece’s face, her drawn-in bottom lip, her quick visual aversion again.
“Did she mean to do it? Was I not…important enough?”
“Miriam, your mother is dealing with an unbelievable amount of pressure, but no… She would never miss your fifteenth birthday. I-I don’t know why… I will write her personally to inquire about it. But please, know that your mother loves you deeply. She revealed Damon’s origins because, in her heart, truly, she believed, in her own way, this was for the best—for me, for the kingdom, and for you. She believes in our laws because they protect you.”
Miriam should be fidgeting by now, stumbling over words as she tried to navigate the emotional complexity of the situation. She’d be pleading for just one more moment, pleading, and blaming herself for her rebellion—her vocal defense of Catelyn.
Instead, this girl’s shakes eased slightly, vision rising, searching for direction.
“I’d like that… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if it will help. My mother is too busy even to notice my new dress. I don’t know what to believe about her anymore—about anyone anymore. Everything’s…wrong. I just want to run away.”
Is that why she’s here? This erratic behavior is troubling… Evelyn would be highly critical of any new outfit given to her daughter without her permission. It undermines her authority—as if someone was trying to buy her daughter’s favor away from her. Miriam knows this explicitly. She’s rebelling openly by accepting it, and now looking for me to validate it? What is happening with the family?
“Miriam, you know I am always here for you, but I think you…may be applying too much pressure to your mother. If you start undermining her authority in court, it will strain your relationship; I know it may feel good to force her attention on you, but there are better ways.”
She squeezed her niece’s hand tighter, showing not anger but firm support in her gentle gaze. “I’m here for you, so please, tell me what this really is about.”
The teen’s frame folded inward, hesitantly drawing her fingers away and closing off a little, which was the natural progression; she was internalizing her gentle prompt, trying to feel through the complex emotions of being called out on her behavior with not anger, but love.
“I… It’s hard to express, Aunt Catelyn. Mmm. B-But I just…I can’t keep my mind straight—not with everything that is happening…when you’re dressed like that.”
“What?” Catelyn felt whiplash as the girl pivoted to glare at her plain, servant’s dress. “I can see this must be, mmm…strange? Seeing me dressed like this must be frightening, even…as if it could happen to you? But is that truly such a distraction? I don’t want to get derailed from the hurt you feel inside, Miriam. I’m here to listen. To understand.”
Her niece’s fists closed around her dress, looking guilty and conflicted while glancing toward the mechanical clock in the corner, showing 4:23 p.m.
“I want things to go back to the way they were. Everything’s wrong. I feel wrong. Mother feels wrong… It’s just…wrong. I just thought we could pretend…if just a little. So…”
She looked up at her with those deep violet eyes, a pain in them that Catelyn never wanted to see, before whispering, almost too soft to hear, “I brought a dress, and…I wanted you to wear it, have tea… Pretend, a little bit longer, that everything is normal?”
“Miriam?”
“Please?” she pleaded, stress building on her face. “I can help you—we don’t need maids—just…us. I already had the guards inspect it. I just…need this, Aunt Catelyn!”
Catelyn hesitated for the first time, vision defocusing as her niece swiftly got up and rushed to the door. Knocking, it opened, and she retrieved a bag from a bowing servant outside.
The guards looked unsure, but none had the heart to deny such a request from the grieving, spiraling fifteen-year-old.
Something is wrong… Miriam is out of control, but in a way that feels almost alien, fluctuating from truth to designed, planning a dress-up and tea party before even meeting me? Finding a dress for me before even seeing me in this outfit? It’s too sophisticated for her tender heart. It now feels almost…manipulative.
Despite her growing unease, Catelyn forced a smile. “Alright, my dear. If this will bring you some comfort, then yes. Let’s have our tea party.”
The transformation in Miriam’s demeanor was immediate and unsettling. Her stress melted away, replaced with eager enthusiasm.
“Oh, wonderful! Here, let me help you out of that awful thing.” She took the bag, and the guards shut the door, looking unsure. Yet, Miriam moved toward Catelyn with a shadow of the hesitation she’d shown earlier, her emotional distress reasserting just before reaching her. “Only…if you’re okay with it? The dress I brought is perfect for you… Please, Aunty? I had it tailored specifically to some of the outfits confiscated from your wardrobe.”
Catelyn’s blood chilled. “Tailored? My wardrobe… I haven’t even been sentenced yet, sweetheart… My room is sealed off. When would you have had time—”
“Oh, I’ve been planning this for weeks! Grandma helped me a few weeks ago,” Miriam rebutted with a giggle, then caught herself. “I mean, she loved the idea a few days ago. She was helping me…before everything became too real for her… I was just hoping for a chance to see you. I even designed it myself… I hope you’ll like it.”
“Right…”
Catelyn’s mind buzzed as her niece moved forward with her lack of protest and began unlacing the back of her servant’s dress—she felt exposed in more ways than one. The girl’s hands moved with surgical precision, and the fabric fell away in seconds.
My mother…planning a tea party with Miriam for weeks, before I’m sentenced? Mother has been in a spiral for the past two months, unable to keep much down and having sleepless nights. This is not dissociation. Not a breakdown. It’s too planned. It’s almost like she’s on a schedule, and this is only a political stepping stone… This feels political.
Once uncovered, Catelyn watched as her niece’s gaze slid over every inch of her exposed skin, every mark, every detail of her figure. It didn’t feel like a young girl’s eager support of her aunt. It felt criminal, invasive.
“You know,” Catelyn said carefully as she stepped into the girl’s given chemise, fine and royal, “I was just thinking about that summer when you and Damon built your secret hideaway. You were so excited to tell me about it, but I’m afraid my memory isn’t what it used to be, given all the court pressure. What was it you called that little place again?”
Miriam’s hands stilled for just a moment as she lifted the new dress after having already made several examinations of her from different angles, looking at the pretty white gown—almost a wedding gown—as if she’d made a mistake.
“Oh, that old thing? We had so many games and bases. Which summer?”
“Yes, but this one was special. You made me promise not to tell Damon that you told me, just in case he disappeared and I grew concerned.”
Catelyn carefully observed as Miriam’s lips pursed to the side, setting the dress down and moving forward to run her fingers through the back of her hair with a note of dissatisfaction. She slowly moved around her, looking intently into her eyes.
“You know, Mother was right… I can see why she’s so jealous. I think that’s…why she did it. You are the prettiest… The youngest. Why can’t I have a figure like yours? Maybe he’d…look at me more.”
The response was too quick, the physical action too invasive, the pivot to her sister’s widely acknowledged jealousy toward the rest of her little sister’s looks jarring…especially from her daughter.
Catelyn’s heart hammered against her ribs.
“Evelyn has been insecure about her age and sharp features,” Catelyn said softly, shifting toward the gown on the desk as Miriam watched her disengage. “She loses herself too easily in wine. Has a sharp tongue in private that can make you bleed…and can forget important things. I suppose that’s why she missed your birthday.”
She ran her hands over its folds; it truly was a beautiful piece—elegant, and nothing like her rebellious niece, but very much in tune with Catelyn’s own taste. Her fingers slid under it to the item she’d placed there an hour previous, finding its cool surface beneath the legal pages.
Gripping the fabric to hand to the uncertain, somewhat confused girl, searching her face, Catelyn showed a sympathetic smile while handing the gown over.
“Perhaps she was too intoxicated. It is how she escapes pressure.”
“My mother…can be sharp.”
It was true, Evelyn could be a handful, as her elder sister. Tough situations required direct action sometimes. Stephen had taught her that in the private dungeons they’d done—her need to feel in control after that dark ritual stole her sanctity. Her fourteenth birthday had been quite rough on her young mind.
She accepted the dress as Catelyn gently used her free hand to guide the girl around, facing her back. “Mmm. She can. You should confront her about it. And I wouldn’t be so harsh on your own appearance. You hide impossible beauty…”
In one fluid motion, she flipped the hidden letter opener around and pressed the blade against the impostor’s throat, her arm locking around their waist from behind, dress still gripped in her false niece’s hands. The silver immediately began to burn marks on her skin, eliciting a sharp hiss of pain.
“Who are you?” Catelyn’s voice was deadly quiet, every inch the royal she’d been raised to be. “What have you done with my niece? Are you a shapeshifter? A changeling?”
Her grip tightened, the blessed silver searing flesh. “Or, for your sake…I sincerely hope you are not a skinwalker, wearing my Miriam like the dress you tried to fit me into?”
The hiss that escaped her captive’s throat was inhuman, serpentine.
“Where is she?” Catelyn demanded, her protective fury blazing white-hot. “Where is Miriam? You’d best answer me before the Paladins and Inquisition get involved.”
The false form began to ripple and shift, the careful illusion finally breaking apart—to mirror her own smiling face.
“Much better and no need for threats, the princess is enjoying a date with her scandalous lower noble,” the changeling said, her voice carrying traces of an accent that didn’t belong to Tenebrin. It then flipped to her own tone, perfect in pitch. “Though I must compliment you on your restraint…unless, hehe, you were seriously trying to help your desperate niece. But you couldn’t be that naive, would you? Most people would have challenged me much sooner.”
“Madame Zorya, I presume?”
“Ah. Vera must have mentioned me before she left your side. How flattering. I do hope she finds a cure for that damage to her left cheek. It could make certain…activities more dramatic, to be fair.” The smile widened. “Though I confess, I’m impressed by your composed fury. Most parents become rather emotional when their children are discussed…”
“My emotional state is hardly relevant.”
“Isn’t it?” Zorya studied her with frank curiosity with her own eyes. “I wouldn’t call the guards, because everything I’ve done is legal. You’d only be harming your own, dear niece, and should I add that I already have my fangs in your son?”
The blade pressed against her neck, eating away at her skin.
“Careful, Princess…”
“Legal?” Catelyn’s grip remained steady. “Violating a princess’ identity?”
“I have a signed contract by said princess. Five uses of her likeness for legitimate business purposes, and we both know you have no protections.” Zorya’s laugh was strained. “Your legal system serves those who understand it.”
“I won’t ask again.”
“Relax. What I said was the truth. The princess enjoys a romantic evening with her scandalous lower noble. Young love.” Zorya tested the blade’s pressure. “Mmm… Though her mother won’t approve of where she’s been spending her nights, where I’ve filled in for her.”
Ice ran through Catelyn’s veins. “You’re relying on my love for her to inflict fear of the consequences and implying her immodesty without stating it outright. Miriam isn’t that kind of girl.”
“Can you be positive? I’ve merely been conducting business. Information is currency, and I have legal bindings and contracts with high nobility that provide morally gray areas.” Zorya’s borrowed features shifted slightly. “Your niece’s rebellions are quite valuable. Much like your son’s desperation.”
“Careful,” she mirrored, feeling the pins and needles run down the changeling’s spine. “I’m not falling for paranoia or half-truths. Miriam is the type for innocent romance, not physical indulgence. I’d be careful how you frame things with the Royal Integrity Act of 672. I’m already a woman on death row, fiend. You’re begging to bleed. ”
Her own smile grew, showing her teeth as a light quiver ran down the woman’s spine. “You’re not anything like I was told… Are you sure you don’t flirt with the evil alignment? Your boy certainly seems capable of it. He has been busy.”
“Pivoting,” Catelyn whispered, hot breath pressing against her opponent’s ear, “is a sign of sloppy planning. Why should I let you live when you supposedly have your claws in my niece and son? Convince me.”
“Perfect… Here is the proof,” she snickered, making a light, musical note in her throat that brought a flash of light to her hands—paper, yet the blade drew closer, burning another hair’s breadth more of the woman’s life. “Mmm… Your niece’s crest, signature, and unique legal code that you can check as a legal steward of hers, signed into law. She is an adult.”
“A Bard, cute. It would be a shame if your voice were to leave you…permanently. I’d stay still…”
Inside her mind, she activated [Silent Cast] and [Telekenesis].
The blade remained fixated on the changeling’s throat as Catelyn let go and moved around to snatch the paper. She went to her desk, vision already scanning the legal codes invoked and details.
Zorya’s lips parted in what must have been real surprise, vision drifting to the floating blessed letter opener at her neck. “You’re a Psionic Class? My, that is exceptionally rare for humans…”
[Apprisal Block: Activated]
Catelyn didn’t blink as she leaned against the desk, narrowed eyes skidding line by line.
“And one with at least Rare-Grade [Appraisal Block].
“You’re noisy,” Catelyn muttered, tilting her head—in response, the dress on the floor snaked up to coil around the changeling’s wrists and lifted her in the air before wrapping around her mouth. “The seal was signed the night of Miriam’s fifteenth birthday… Disgusting.”
Her glowing violet eyes lifted to sear holes through her smiling twin’s face, foot tapping the gown at her feet.
“I suppose you had something to do with my sister not being able to show up…further degrading my niece’s already fragile emotional state. You do have legal protections…until you cross the line and I snap your neck. So, let’s hear your leverage,” she whispered, tossing the paper to the side as if it offended her. “Speak. I will allow it, Bard.”
The dress uncoiled, and Zorya licked her lips, chuckling softly. “How devilishly delicious… No wonder your eldest sister is so jealous of you. You inherited your father’s Class. If not for the laws…and my own defenses, you could dig around in my very brain. And that [Telekinesis] works on what you last touched within ten seconds; it requires quite the mana consumption, though.
“Controlling two items at once? I did underestimate you. Tell me, did Stephen train you? Because no princess would be allowed to get this powerful without her loyal knight hanging on her every whim.”
“I don’t hear a reason in those pointless barbs,” Catelyn sighed, the knife sliding down the woman’s throat, then collarbone, leading to rest over her left breast. “You forget I am a woman already condemned. Don’t make me repeat it again.”
“Fair enough, Dorogusha,” she mused in that same unusual language, “you’ve shown yourself to be as prickly as the bear your son united with. Your son made a deal with my network to obtain funds…by entering the Monster Pit Arena. His survival rests on my leisure.”
Catelyn’s blood chilled, but her mind immediately shifted to legal analysis. “Only monsters are permitted in the Monster Pit Arena via the amendments to the Gladiatorial Regulations Act of 578.”
“Precisely,” Zorya’s smile was a sickening twist of her own lips. “And as you well know, dark elves fall under a gray area under Tenebrin law. Would the high nobles enforce your interpretation? Mmm. We both know the answer to that.”
The brutal reality hit home. Her son, already facing persecution for his heritage, had been driven to literally fight for his life in gladiatorial combat.
Damon, what are you thinking? Surely, there had to be a better way…
“I bet you’re wondering what got into your son to make such a decision… Well, simply put, there were no other options! This kingdom is rather hostile to him, after all. And the prize pool will be larger than ever before,” Zorya continued conversationally, still floating in the air under her psychic power.
“So many laws stacked against him. The legal monster level was capped at ten, but it didn’t specify the type. A clever dark elf could face anything from dire wolves to, mmm… I don’t want to spoil the surprise. All perfectly within regulations.”
Her focus shifted to her smug mirror.
Titania must have foreseen this… There has to be something more to this. Zorya plays a very long game, yet this is sloppy—very sloppy compared to what Vera told me about her. Which means…she’s getting desperate…
She used Miriam to get close enough to copy my body and voice perfectly… Technically, I’m still a princess, but functionally, I no longer have the legal protections of a royal. Do we fear the spider or the web? Do we blame the venom or the fang? She’s a disease, seeking to corrupt.
“His survival rests on your support,” Catelyn stated flatly, nose twisting as she glanced off to the side and reflected on the trap she’d woven. “You’re building a prison…before swallowing the key.”
“Exactly! You want your son to have the highest possible chance of survival, do you not? We’re partners in this endeavor. Tell me, you’re sick, like me.” Zorya’s tone grew almost cheerful. “You’re his mother. You’d do anything for him. I can ensure favorable matchups, quality equipment, and healing potions between rounds—perfect rewards. Oh?”
Catelyn’s legal training kicked in as she slowly lowered the woman to the ground. The blade flew back with a hum as she snapped her fingers around the edge, twisting it expertly around her fingers while Zorya elegantly composed herself.
“Do we have a deal?”
She stared at the changeling, every action she took was calculated. Not using her Bard abilities must have been a point of pride for her. Her false warm hands, the coldest smile that invoked a thrill for mental combat—her body so still, with a look that could kill.
Stephen’s voice echoed in her mind. She had been fourteen at the time; traumatized, seeking any form of control she could obtain. Catelyn’s fingertips reached to brush against the neck accessory she always wore, where the noble vampire from the Darkvein had sunk his poisonous fangs into her neck as a thirteen-year-old child.
“When you walk past a devil, child, you’ll feel her pull inside… The words in her eyes fall deaf to the blind. Inside, the secrets they’ll find. Succubi are insidious, pulling out the worst in you, playing at your desires, setting up tripwires for you to set off yourself. Ivy lips, poisoned, just one kiss, and one night will destroy nations. When you’re in positions like ours, you must target their weakness… Virtue.”
She’s not a succubus, Stephen, but I think your training against devils is interchangeable with training against changelings.
“You chose to target me now because your window of opportunity was fading fast. By the end of tonight, I’ll be out of your reach, and you need to capture my body and voice perfectly for your next thread in the web you are weaving.”
“Oh, invoking images of The Spider, are we?” Zorya snickered, predatory yellow eyes flashing through. “Would you believe me if I said I do not follow the Chaotic Evil High Goddess? I find her methods…unreliable.”
“Your word games are boring,” Catelyn sighed, locking the blessed blade’s edge between two knuckles. “Following doesn’t equate to working for or with The Spider. You want to make a deal regarding the protection of my son? Perhaps even obtaining more information from me via that connection? How would you care for a bet?”
Zorya’s head tilted to the side, questioning eyes burning with curiosity. “This day is getting darker, and your claws are getting sharper, Princess. I think I can see that inner animal lurking. What sinister past do you hide behind that perfect elegance and those maternal instincts… Have you found the antidote? Has the predator become the prey, hmm? What do you want to do with me? Be honest!”
Lower back resting against the desk, Catelyn focused on the blade between her knuckles, flipping it around a few more times.
“Mmm. For what you’ve done to my little niece? The threats to my child? Mmm. What do my baser instincts want? A silver-coated, crimson bath… To lay hands on your spine…and apply pressure until it breaks… For Mother Nature to find its place.”
“My, how devastatingly vivid! This world will eat your heart out. I completely misjudged you, darling… I’m afraid I might have created a rather terrifying beast. You wanted a bet? Let’s formally seal it,” she whispered, the thrill of a gambler radiating in her wide eyes as she produced a paper and quill with a melodic hum.
“I’m a hunter in my own right, you know,” the changeling giggled. “Will someone turn out the lights so the beast can come to play?”
“I want a mind probe. If we’re to be partners, I need verification of this information about my son and niece,” Catelyn returned.
“For only that information? Absolutely.” Zorya’s yellow eyes shone through Catelyn’s borrowed features. “Why don’t we sign a contract to make it official?”
The changeling produced paper and quill with fluid gestures, quickly drafting terms. Catelyn read carefully, crossing out sections and adding amendments with precise legal language. Zorya watched with obvious delight.
“Such beautiful work,” she purred, making one additional note about memory access parameters as she brushed against her with sharp tension. “I accept these pre-terms to the real bet. Let us cut past the veil of threats…”
Catelyn placed her hand against Zorya’s forehead and closed her eyes.
[Mind Infiltrator: Activated.]
The memories flowed through her consciousness: arena layouts, betting pools, Damon’s constant rejection—sometimes systemic, sometimes planned by operatives, dark shadows moving in the background.
Next came her son, making a deal for an adorable bear with a devilish, secret Lineage, the monster classifications of the pits, and then she saw something that made her eyes snap open in shock—a blue-eyed sun elf dancing through market shops, laughing as she examined trinkets.
“Now what did you see?” Zorya’s tone grew playful, drawing closer to examine the shape of her lips as Catelyn’s hand left her forehead; the changeling adjusted her own lips ever-so-slightly as she spoke. “You can believe what you wish about my motivations from that, but by the Holy Emperor, it is the truth.”
“Pieces of truth, woven in a manner to suggest a pattern that leads to razors and chains,” Catelyn said as she studied her own reflection, playing with the silver weapon and forcing the woman to retreat. “Very well, I want to make a different deal, Madame Zorya.”
“At last, we get to the crack of the whip,” she cackled, adjusting the tightness of her niece’s gown on her figure and inspecting her figure with satisfaction. “It’s not safe inside my head, darling… No, no, my own parents thought I’d be better off dead. So…what’s the wager, because I am in love with your curves. I think I’ll use it often.”
“Perfect segway,” Catelyn smiled. “If I win, you cannot use my image to manipulate my son or those close to him. And certainly not for any explicitly sexual acts that would damage my wholesome image. Well, excluding Stephen, of course.”
Zorya’s breath froze, her eyes spinning with manic curiosity. “How intriguing my beauty queen… You’re twisting my gut into a knot! You’re making me hazy with how sweet your mind works… Why would you leave your precious knight unprotected? Do I need a safe bet?”
“Because, obviously, he’s your true target. You love risks, but even you have your limits.”
Zorya’s eye twitched at being called out. “Oh, that is making me dizzy… You really might become my target with fangs like yours. Those ‘close to Damon’ is rather clever wording. It wouldn’t happen to involve the mysterious sun elf Lich bonded with him?
“You’ve seen her—my suspicions. I broke into Damon’s system menu, you see. He thinks it’s my lovely little doll. He’s so cute. I discovered a rather unusual connection to a sun elf Lich, of all things. [System Trickery] is deceptively powerful, even at its weakened stages. Titania is playing a dangerous game, it seems. What do I think?”
Catelyn’s lack of reaction made Zorya laugh. “Your non-reaction says it all. A sun elf itself should have elicited some response when reading my mind, yet nothing! Who is she—his sister, perhaps, from his previous life? You’re stonewalling me! Not fair.”
Internally, Catelyn felt the changeling’s hand closing around her pumping heart, yet she merely asked, “Would you believe anything I said?”
“Perhaps not. Very well, I’ll take this deal. If you win, I will not use your form to manipulate your son and those close to him, excluding your charming prince, of course.” Zorya’s smile turned predatory. “Stephen has feelings for you, doesn’t he? How could he not, with a body, temperament, and face like yours, most men would dive into Hell.”
Catelyn rolled her eyes. “Is that the best you can do? If so, you’ve already lost. Yes, I am attractive and in the prime of my youth. Tell me something I do not know. Is that to say that you are not confident in your own image? Well, I suppose that is a given for a changeling…”
Zorya’s smile widened. “I feel as if I’m staring down the barrel of a gun… I was sorely unprepared for your maternal fury, Princess. Your niece should take lessons. Perhaps I should rethink my plan if all your siblings are as sharp as you…”
She licked her lips, looking straight into her eyes, as if attempting to penetrate her soul. “And if I win, you must do one—just one—thing I command, no matter how extreme, even if I order you to kill your son. You will be bound by divine contract, poised to devote your whole soul, agency, and all, to me on its fault. Sorry, I just can’t help myself!”
Catelyn showed a soft smile. “The Holy Emperor will not condone that. And that would act in reverse if you break this contract. So, in whose name will this be invoked then, Madame?”
Zorya moved close, to inches before her face, placing the paper beside her on the desk while stepping on the dress. Hot breath pressing against her cheeks, she whispered, “Khronar, The Cosmic Witness. Naturally, I already have the authority to invoke Their oath…”
Catelyn’s frown deepened at the closeness and invocation of the True Neutral deity’s name. “The bet?”
“You invoked virtue throughout this conversation. Then it is a battle of virtue.” Zorya cut her own thumb on the blade in Catelyn’s hand and pressed it against the paper she produced with a hum. Catelyn did the same, sealing the divine contract.
“Then it is a bet… Play your hand.”
“Perfect,” Zorya breathed, her voice taking on an almost hypnotic quality, “let me give you a true way out of this ruling. Not an illegal escape, as Stephen no doubt plans as a backup for his tender, exposed heart. Freedom.”
Catelyn smiled in return, true relief flooding her chest as she suddenly shook with gentle laughter.
“Why are you laughing?” Zorya’s brow furrowed, stepping back and looking actually bewildered. “Do you not know what I am offering you? I have the political defense and ability to strip you of your title. To—”
“Have the ability to travel freely with my son?” Catelyn returned, tightness in her chest evaporating as she stared at the fidgeting changeling with true compassion, as all her uncertainty evaporated. “My faith won. With that contract sealed. I no longer fear you.”
“What? No!” Anger and frustration mixed in her reflected face, a surreal experience to see. “You could live in Aurelian with Stephen, yet still let you see your mother, father, and siblings—to live as a normal citizen with noble privileges.”
Bending down to snatch the gown, she brandished it in front of her. “You can be free with no fallout to your family! A wife—a wedding… You could comfort your child, watch him grow… Everything! All you need to do is accept my help. I am under divine oath! I can grant everything your heart desires! I have the leverage… I will use your body against Stephen! So, why? Why give up…everything?”
Catelyn flipped the silver knife into the air before catching it by the blade. Then, she set it down. The threat was gone. She moved to the window to look down upon her home city, where her son struggled and fought for his place in this cruel world.
“Tell me, you’ve never been a mother…have you? If you haven’t, I suppose you wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, shifting to look at the cracking mask of the changeling, “which is why you’re looking at me as if you want to skin me alive and wear my flesh like a costume…to be human. That is all. You may leave.”
Zorya blinked, shook her head, reached up to tug at her hair in an unusual gesture, searching the contract that burst into white flames, its seal burning onto their very heart and soul—unseen, as was specified in the wording.
“What you fail to understand, Madame, is that once you are a mother…your soul is no longer yours. I cannot give what is not mine…or that I do not believe is mine to give.”
“Hah… You’d give up your soul for—huh? I made a bet with a crazy woman… You’re insane.”
“Mothers often are.”
“What a miscalculation. Hmm. Hehe,” her reflection’s stunned realization shifted to cruel challenge. “Don’t think just because I can’t use your form on him, I can’t get to your son.”
“Given Stephen my regards. My faith in him will be my victory again… Good luck.”
With manic laughter, the fiend of the Holy Court turned, took one step, hesitated, then left, retaking the image of her niece—the last time, since she was covered under the contract, and this was her last use of it.
I know Stephen will struggle with a woman like her… Especially after I applied so much pressure. But he’s strong. She’ll trip my trap…and tell him I excluded him from my trial. She has to be the one to dig that dagger. She can’t help herself. Her goal will be to destroy my image in his mind. Yet, that will trigger his release.
She glanced at the tea materials still left in the bag Zorya had forgotten to take. She really should have known better than to try to play mind games with a Psionic. But, to be fair, she learned that detail through experience, and it did take me an uncomfortable amount of time to recognize the signs… She won’t make that mistake again.
Looking down in the following silence, Catelyn sighed upon seeing herself still in her undergarments. “Hmm. Maybe I should finish dressing… What a rude woman.”
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[ Next POV: Aria ]
[ Theme: Wow! After that insane mental duel, I think our fire-haired lich daughter can learn a thing or two. How is Aria doing? ]
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