HORNS (BoyXBoy)

Chapter 184

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Four

This was it.

This was really it--the trial had finally begun, all twenty-five satyrs who'd brutalized my dad were sitting with us in front of millions of spectators all over the world, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking. It felt like every second of my life had been leading up to this.

Right here. Right now.

This was the defining moment of our lives.

My father's and mine.

He would finally get justice for himself... my existence would finally be redeemed... it was finally starting, the day had finally come. 

So, why did I feel so uneasy? 

Aside from the fact that I was quite literally sitting in a diamond cube the size of a huge house that shone with strange magical energy, and the fact that there were millions of people staring at me through the glittering walls like a bug under a microscope, the opening speech that Archduke Heros had been giving us thus far seemed long, boring, and clinical.

He'd started off by explaining the stages of the trial, save for the last one--which was, if Bash's words on the flight to England held up, still somewhat of an unannounced decision that Queen Beira was intending to spring on everyone before any sort of verdict could be given.

I could only listen in silence as he listed off the major laws that all fae and faeries, above ground and below, were required to follow as fellow denizens of the same overall species as well as why they had to. He then went on a tangent pertaining to different cultures, their impacts on the mind, and other complex things that I didn't really see the point of bringing up, though I had a sneaking suspicion he was either trying to create a web of excuses for the twenty-five monsters sitting at the other table off to my right or trying to make us look bad to everyone.

It was like something alive was squirming around in my body, a sense that something wasn't quite right, that something was just... out of place. The entire time I sat there listening to Heros, my stomach was completely and thoroughly unsettled, and I hated it.

Still, I listened without a word, legs pressed together, staring at him attentively. His voice echoed uncomfortably, bouncing off the walls.

He really does like to hear himself talk, I silently muttered, trying to avoid making a face when he went off on a tangent about the honesty and righteousness of Gwenhwyfar's bloodline. Is he seriously talking about righteousness when he tried to kill one of his own kids? When he didn't even show remorse for his own actions?

I shuddered: Heros Dalmadora, so far, had been the only one speaking and from the looks of things, he was even in charge of the trial's proceedings. Why he was in charge, I didn't know, but he genuinely seemed to be by all accounts. It didn't feel right to me. 

I could sense in the undercurrent of his words that he was against us, and that didn't feel very good. After all, how could I trust a man who'd tried to kill his own child for being ugly? He clearly didn't feel any remorse about his past actions, that much had been proven the night we'd been invited for dinner when he'd tried to defend what he'd done during his conflict with Sylias. Heros also seemed like the kind of individual who'd think anyone who didn't resemble his kind was ugly, too, so how the hell could I expect him to do right by us?

Maybe that was why I felt so uneasy. 

Or maybe it was something else.

I wasn't sure yet.

"--and as such," Heros blandly droned, voice grating on my ears and irritating me to the core of my soul, "there are many things that come into play with how different cultures interact with one another, which can cause a form of shock if one is not used to it. Lycanthropes like the ones sitting before us are rather brash and quick to react to the slightest thing."

My ears snapped up and I drew back, fighting back a scowl, offended.

"You're correct," Sebastian smoothly agreed. "Absolutely. We are brash and quick to react, that much is very true, though I hardly see why that matters. There's nothing wrong with culture shock as long as you are respectful. If you don't understand something, ask about it and you will almost always receive an enthusiastic answer. As you very well know, Dalmadora, people do tend to love talking about themselves and the pride they have in their culture."

Shock hit my stomach when the elf's hair sparked very faintly for a second and I bit the inside of my cheek to avoid laughing when he aggressively cleared his throat. However, before he could fire a retort of any kind, Sylias leaned forward and interlaced his fingers over his lap.

"You are also correct, Lord Sebastian. Such conduct is something that I, and many others living in the Eternal Forests, can confirm," he broke in. "However, because the Archduke has graciously chosen to host your trial on behalf of the Queen's will and for the sake of all our people, I would ask that the Four Courts give me the liberty of explaining something to everyone present about the accusing party."

His father paused, turning to give him a stoic stare. The diamond chains dangling from his crown swung around his ears like stars, twinkling gorgeously.

Sylias flicked his ears higher.

"I accept," the woman in the red cloak, Meeryn, finally sighed, nodding once. "I would listen."

"As would I," Chiron the Minotaur hummed.

"And I," Erlking Rahn grunted. 

"I would hear his words, too," Lord Belba, prince of Giants, thundered from his oversized throne at the edge of the elevated platform. I was momentarily amazed that he wasn't uncomfortable considering his head, shoulders, and neck were pressed against the top of the diamond and he had to sit hunched over with his limbs drawn in tightly just to fit in a reasonable manner.

More voices chimed in, including Wisp and Morganna, all of them agreeing.

And then--

"I'd rather not," Chtali sighed, turning her piggish nose up. "Can't we simply proceed?"

"No, you've been outvoted," Wisp said in a cold, pleasant tone; a shiver wracked the grey-skinned woman, and she tossed a lock of her moss green hair, nervously avoiding his gaze.

I wondered about that for a moment.

I saw Sylias shift out of the corner of my eye. He was looking at me, studying my face closely, though his expression didn't change. The men beside him, who I assumed were his brothers, weren't so subtle--three of them were actually smirking, and they were also the only individuals sitting on the thrones showing expression. It was also because of them that I realized for the first time that the entire Dalmadora family had been seated together. 

Sylias and his brothers were sitting between the archduke and a gorgeous female elf wearing a sultry gown of diamonds woven together like a net of beads over her tall, lithe body. I assumed it was the archduke's wife. She was naked aside from the strange netting.

Sylias tilted his head.

Watching me.

"Go ahead, Duke Sylias," Beira finally chimed, melodic and musical and chilling. Goosebumps rose along my arms as her blinding Sunfire skin shimmered and pulsed. "Speak."

"Lord Heros has explained that cultural differences can impact the minds of those who are not used to them," Sylias said loudly and clearly, beautiful face made of stone. "He is, in fact, correct about that, so I would like to break in here and give a reminder that lycanthropes are not like us in any way, from their reactions to their overall behaviors. While that may be the case, however, it does not mean that their way of living is wrong. Life on the surface blending in among humans has required them to adapt in ways that have impacted the cores of their beings. Some behavior we may see during the proceedings might seem jarring or unpleasant."

"Where are you going with this?" Heros sourly asked. 

"Well, Lord Heros, to put it bluntly," Sylias just as coolly retorted, "I would like to ask the Courts and those who've gathered here to show as much leniency as possible if any of the werewolves among the accusing party have emotional outbursts that we would otherwise be able to control with relative ease. They are not accustomed to our culture, as you've said, so... is it not our responsibility to make situational allowances due to the differences in surface-rearing?"

The archduke's face tightened and did something strange.

For a second, he looked venomous, but just as he opened his mouth, Belba slammed one of his giant fists on his throne's diamond armrest.   

"Hear, hear!" he called through all three mouths, grinning. "Well said indeed, Sylias! I agree that such allowances should be made, in moderation of course! Does anyone contest it?"

I heard a collective and unanimous series of 'no' throughout the fae lords and ladies. Heros cleared his throat, eye twitching, but continued with, "well, I suppose so. Your request has been unanimously approved. Now, as my youngest son has suggested, I would ask that those of you who've gathered here today to bear witness to the proceedings remain resp--"

"Horst," a deep voice murmured, and a nudge in my ribs made me jump. I looked away from the brilliantly glowing elf lord and stared at my brother. Luka was leaning close to me, so close I could see the greenie gold flecks in his doe brown eyes. 

I blinked at him, dazed. "What's up?"

His painted lids crinkled in concern, scanning my forehead. I couldn't figure out why until a drop of liquid hit my nose, and I realized for the first time that I was literally sweating buckets. My heart was pounding a mile a minute, my ears were ringing, and every part of me was tense.

Weird. I hadn't even noticed.

"Breathe," Luka whispered, reaching up to wipe at my forehead with the side of his hand. His fingers were cold and comforting, and I relaxed slightly when he stroked my ears. "Just breathe and be calm, Little Brother. I can feel heart. I feel all. Try do calm now, yah?"

I cracked a weak, forced grin and wiggled my ears. I was sure by the deepening concern stabbing my heart through our link that it was more of a grimace. I lowered my eyes to the gray stone table, studying the whorls and chips and flecks of strangely sparkly minerals embedded in it.

The Archduke was going on and on about stuff I couldn't follow, something about Seelie and Unseelie agreements. None of the fae who were sitting in my field of vision wore any sort of expression, though, aside from the smirking and muttering elves beside Sylias.

It was actually pretty eerie--like looking at mannequins, almost, with different faces and bodies even though they all had the same bland expressionlessness about them. My scalp prickled and my ears twitched nervously when a floating crystal descended and hovered a little too close to my face; I leaned away from it slightly, staring at the way it floated closer and slowly swiveled in front of me before moving to the left and doing the same around Luka. 

He made a noise of confusion and blinked at it curiously. 

"Huh," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else. "It be like the gem Chi use at home."

"Shhh," I quietly urged, giving him a fearful glance; he turned to me with a confused look on his face, so I quickly whispered, "don't interrupt the archduke. We need to pay attention--"

"I'll have SILENCE in my court!" 

I nearly jumped out of my own skin at the sheer volume of the shout, and Luka was no better--he actually snatched my arm and clutched it, eyes wide, ears drawn back. The fox-faced elf lord was looking at us with disdain and barely masked iciness in his otherworldly blue gaze. 

"S-sorry," I peeped, swallowing hard. "Won't happen again."

His eyes narrowed slightly, but the archduke cleared his throat and turned his attention away from us and looked towards the twenty-five satyrs sitting at the table to our right. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes... in other words, to proceed appropriately and to have a fair trial, it's only natural that we learn about each member of the accused and accusing parties individually. Seeing how the accused party consists of a rather large number of individuals, we shall start with them. Are there any protests to this decision amongst the members of the Four Courts gathered today?"

Not a single person said anything. 

Not a single expression changed.

My blood ran cold.

I clenched my hands together under the table, lowering my eyes. I felt sick, like the diamond walls were too bright, glittery, closing in on me. I didn't want to learn their names. I didn't want to see their faces. I didn't want to know about them, or who they were, or their lives. I wanted them to stay the faceless, nameless evil bastards they'd always been in my head.

"Nobody has protested," Queen Beira interjected, waving a gentle hand. "Proceed, Lord Heros."

"Gladly," the glowing elf huffed, waving a finger at the first satyr sitting at the table. "In the order that you are seated, from nearest to farthest, you will each stand and step forward. You will face the accusing party and introduce yourselves formally. Keep your introductions simple and to the point, just your names, your ages, and how many direct family members you have." 

"Direct family members?" Rahn cut in, leaning forward to stare at him from around his passive wife, who didn't react whatsoever; her eyes remained closed and her face was relaxed. "Why does that--"

"It matters not," Heros cut in with a biting tone. "You would do not to interrupt the proceedings any further, Erlking Rahn. Now, you, Faun! At the edge of the table! Come hither!"

I turned when the aforementioned satyr rocketed out of his seat.

"D-da!" he blurted in a thick, somewhat shrill voice, jerkily loping over to stand in the middle of the room, turning to face us, wiry shoulders to his ears.

He wore a kilt but had no shirt. On his left shoulder was a birthmark, a much different one than my own, and his skin was ghostly pale. His hair was straight, jet black, and short, just like the fur on his ears and legs. A mass of dark curls covered his narrow chest and his flat, soft belly, but his face was smooth and youthful.

Not at all what I'd have imagined as belonging to a monster.

I studied him for a second through my lashes. 

He was a fumbling, sweating mess, with large eyes that darted around in a panicked way. I wondered, offhandedly, how that innocent, frightened face must have looked two decades ago as he'd been beating and kicking my crying father's skull in after raping him. Maybe he'd even been one of the sick bastards who'd pissed on his injuries afterwards. 

My blood boiled and I dug my claws into my palms, fighting not to lurch off the chair and charge for his throat then and there. I noticed Sylias watching me again out of my peripherals, likely because I wasn't subtle with my anger--I'd never been good at hiding my feelings, after all. 

Still, I purposely made eye contact with him for a moment, clenching my jaw, then turned my attention back on the shivering, frozen satyr standing silently. The buck's mouth opened and worked, face bone white, but his legs looked ready to give out, ears hanging towards his shoulders, hands twitching a mile a minute.

"Well?" Heros finally demanded. "Name, age, and family."

"I... I... I-I..." the satyr said in a voice so shrill it made me want to sneer. 

"Just calm down," a sickeningly familiar voice called in a soothing tone. "You're all right. Deep breath in and out."

The frightened satyr cast a glance at the table, ears lifting slightly at Yuma's reassuring call. I turned to see him staring with sympathetic eyes at the frozen buck. A confusing mixture of anger and grief and loathing flooded my chest, enveloping my own heart and emotions, and I shivered as Luka let out an audible sigh through his nose. Yuma caught me looking at him, but my stomach churned when he gave me a pained smile and lowered his eyes.

Oh, how I hated him.

A terrifying but satisfying thought came to me in that moment: all of them were sitting in this cube with us, trapped the same way we were. If I really tried... I could be shredding through them in seconds and ripping them to pieces. I'd be ending everything by doing so, but at least I'd have the grim satisfaction of looking them in the eyes while they died beneath my claws and teeth.

At least the whole world could witness my fury.

At least this would be over.

Forever. 

My throat tightened, and I was glad for it--I felt like I would vomit at any moment. The satyr standing before us shook like a leaf, visibly trembling, shoulders hunched, wringing his hands--his pupils, framed by ice blue eyes, were huge. He looked like he wasn't much older than me.

College age.

But I knew that looks could be deceiving. Bash didn't look a day over thirty and he was over five hundred years old. Everyone in the room aside from our group had thousands of years on us, and yet not a one of them sported so much as a wrinkle.

"Introduce yourself, Faun," Archduke Dalmadora commanded. "Now. I won't say it again."

The satyr jumped, mouth quivering.

"D-da!" he finally yelped, breathlessly scanning each of us sitting at the table. "I am Olaf Awa! I am forty-two! I have wife with six daughters, mama, and papa, and grandpapa, and great grandpapa."

"Olaf Awa," the archduke hummed, interlacing his long, bony fingers across his lap. "Do you know why this trial is being held?"

"Da, I do," he confirmed, fiddling with his hands, eyes wide, ears limp. I watched him writhe under all the eyes on him, watched his fear and discomfort, and I felt pleasure in seeing that his eyes were filling with tears. He looked ready to pass out, ready to panic from his own terror.

Good.

"Take a seat, then," the archduke commanded, and the sniveling goat man practically galloped back to his chair. "Next! Come stand before the accusing party!"

The second satyr to face us didn't look at all scared or even apologetic, he looked pissed. Bearded and red-faced with curly black hair, he had a bulbous nose and somewhat crooked horns. He was also fairly overweight. His fat lips curled as he studied all our faces, but his eyes did admittedly linger on me.

A yellow haze slowly covered my vision when he sneered.

Then, he spit at me.

I jerked back when the glob landed on the table an inch from my hand.

"I be Vlad Rofka," he growled with a thick Russian accent, looking straight into my eyes. "Three hundred and two years old, with two wives and nineteen children waiting at home."

"Do you know why you are here, Vlad?" the archduke casually inquired, as if the fucker hadn't just openly hokked a phlegm ball at me. My cheeks began to burn, lips twitching with rage.

"Da," the satyr sneered, staring straight into my eyes, "because little wolf bitch who try to do a sex with defenseless tribesman break satyr horn and call all sorts of terrible things when being told no, repeatedly. We here because little wolf bitch not die how it should." 

I wish I could say I ignored that jab with grace and dignity.

I wish I could say I turned my nose up at him and acted like it didn't bother me.

I wish I could say that I hadn't lost my shit, then and there.

I'd be lying if I said any of that. 

I'd never lost my temper so quickly or so violently in my life: without a sound, I was already up and halfway out of my chair, but just as I leapt over the table with a concussion that rattled the entire room, someone gasped and jumped at me, catching me by my left hoof with both hands and jerking me back so hard that I was forcefully stopped mid-lunge while I was in the air. 

I wound up with insane whiplash, head and arms snapping forward as I let out an undignified wolf snarl seconds before I slammed down on the table with my arms outstretched. My forehead hit the stone and I saw stars, growling in pain. Not many could impede a supernatural leap like the one I'd tried to take, so I had to at least give my saboteur some serious credit. 

Still... fucking, ow.

"Oh, thank God," Pop whispered, and I felt the hands tighten; I lifted my head for a second and looked back to see my wide-eyed father partially on the table, lower body positioned halfway over Luka's torso, gripping my leg from with both arms outstretched. "Thank God."

I let my throbbing head thump back down, disoriented but still pissed. 

"That fucking hurt," I hissed in pain, getting ready to kick him. "Let go of me. Right fucking now." 

"Horst, no," he rasped in a quiet, gentle tone. "Calm down. Don't engage."

"How can I not?!" I spat, refusing to lift my head, digging my claws into the table, shaking with fury. I could feel them all looking at me. "Did you not hear what he just said?! He admitted to trying to kill you in front of all of us! Did you not hear him?! He raped you! He raped you and beat you and held you down while you were gutted! Your intestines were ripped out of your body, and then you were left to die! After hours upon hours of the worst sort of assault anyone can experience! How the hell can you ask me to sit still?!"

"He's not worth it," my dad said seriously, and then his voice thickened. "He's not worth you. I can manage with the things they say. I can, so you have to do the same. I know, it sucks, but we're here to make right the things that were done to me. We're here to bring them to justice, not only for myself... but also for you. In so many ways. Just... sit down."

I groaned. "I'm so mad right now." 

"Little Brother have every right to be," Luka said in a quiet voice. "This be chance for tribesmen to do right thing and face punishment. This be biggest chance to say sorry to Jak, too."

"Oh, shut up, Luka! I not sorry. I even do again, if have chance," Vlad sneered, and I tensed, claws digging into the stone. My brother's breath hitched as a low, threatening growl came from Bash's general vicinity, and the hands on my leg tightened. "Vile bitch hurt tribesman. It deserve what it get."

With a crack, all the bones in my arms broke simultaneously, violently, and my breathing came harder and faster. I knew the warning signs. I knew what was happening. I was about to shift into a lycanthrope and I was sure absolutely nothing would stop me, not magic, not anything. I snarled like a feral animal as my jaw broke, clawing the table, and I lifted my eyes. The satyr balked, eyes snapping open wide, smug look vanishing the second he saw my face.

"You," I snarled, baring my fangs at him, "are a disgusting monster."

"Me?" Vlad sneered, raising his flushed face haughtily. "Monster? When you look like that? Eyes and teeth and face changing? That be funny. It big joke. Like you, and little dick-mother."

Hatred flooded me and I lost sight of everything.

All I could see was his face, his sneer, the way his pudgy lips curled in superiority. For a second, everything went blank and cold, just like it had the day that John had called me names. For a second, I imagined breaking the man before me into pieces.

In a distant part of my mind, I heard a gasp and a sudden hiss of pain, but I barely noticed it, I was too busy burning his face, his features, his smell, his everything into my brain where it would never, ever leave.

"You, and every last one of the satyrs sitting at that table," I said in a dead, evil tone. "Each one of you attacked an innocent man and hurt him in a way that can't and won't ever be forgiven."

"That's enough," Dalmadora sighed.

"No, it's not," I said in a cold, vicious, malignant hiss, widening my eyes past the white haze that was blinding my vision to see him better, to see beyond the veil that was blinding me. I lifted my head higher, murderous. "Even if my father forgives you, I never will. I won't forgive you, ever, and that's exactly why... you'd better pray to whatever Gods you believe in that this court takes each of your punishments seriously. You had better pray they punish you to an extent that I'm satisfied with, because I will never, as long as I live, forget your fucking face. Keep running your mouth and you'll fuck up your last chance."

"You threaten Vlad?" he sneered, raising an eyebrow. "In front of entire fairy world?"

My ribs broke, then, and he smiled wickedly, as if he knew what he was doing. As if he were intentionally trying to get this reaction out of me. None of the fae sitting on their thrones said a word, though Rahn looked angry and a little pale. Not a single one spoke up, they just observed--not even Beira, though her fingers did seem to be digging into the edge of her armrest.

I tilted my head to the side, wondering, for a brief, calm, icy moment, what the satyr would look like with his ugly head severed from his body, hanging from my hand by his greasy black hair.

"Ah! SHIT!" my dad yelped, letting go of my leg; Luka gasped and tried to flood me with warmth, attempting to calm me down, but I was having none of it.

I slowly pushed myself into a kneeling position, right there on the table, glaring at the smug satyr with wide-eyed wrath. The air around me turned cold as I spread my fingers, extending my claws.

"The same way you just admitted to attempted murder," I rasped, and he froze, face twisting as if he'd just realized it himself. "The same way you said you'd do it again if you had the chance. The same way you refused to show any sort of remorse. Fuck you--"

A sudden explosion of pain erupted against the back of my head. It stunned me so much that my anger fluttered, and I slowly touched my scalp to check if I was bleeding. I wasn't, thankfully, but it stung so bad that I looked over my shoulder--only to see Sebastian's face an inch from mine.

I jerked, nearly falling over, but he just snorted, nostrils flared.

"That's enough. Sit down in the chair and get a hold of yourself," he growled, narrowing his brilliantly glowing white eyes. "Don't act out further. Breathe. Think. He's purposely trying to piss you off. Don't let him have the satisfaction."

I shook, struggling to control my breathing... wondering why I should listen, but then, I felt another hand alight on my leg. I didn't even need to look back to recognize the touch; floods of love, sympathy, and warmth washed over the fury and pain eating me alive from the inside out, soothing me somewhat.

"Little Brother, Mr. Pap and Mr. Bash be right," he quietly told me, patting my furry limb. "Sit down. You make ice for few moments and freeze Jak's hands. It not good, so do as Bash say. Do not listen to vile words spoke by--"

"Shut up, Luka! You betray own father!" Vlad snarled, cutting him off, and my brother's hand twitched on my fur, fingers digging in. "You always be a little pussy! You--"

"That's QUITE ENOUGH!" Rahn suddenly roared, and everyone flinched, even me. Vlad, to my surprise, seemed the most terrified, he huddled down with his ears drawn back and twisted to look at the flaming Erlking in fear. "I've HAD IT! Shut your vile, disgusting little mouth and return to your seat!"

The quivering satyr simply bleated like a goat and stumbled back to his seat, cowed.

"Calm yourself, Rahn," Heros drawled. "That temper of yours is quite unseemly."

"Oh, stuff it, Dalmadora," Rahn scoffed, waving an angry hand. "I am appalled that not a single person sitting here alongside me spoke up the moment this abhorrent misconduct began! Thus, if anyone else has the audacity to show such blatant and vile disrespect in front of me or my wife, the Queen Mother, you'd best hide it from here on because it will affect your sentencing should you be found guilty!"

The hand touching my leg pulled back and I twisted to see that Luka hadn't been kidding. I sat there for a few seconds, studying the strange coat of ice that had covered the tabletop, then looked at my dad, who was licking his fingers with his eyes closed, grimacing.

My heart lurched. "Did I hurt you?"

"A little, but I forgive you," he admitted, pausing just long enough to give me a grin. "I know why you're mad, but I still think you should get off the table and take a seat."

I turned to look at my friends and family. Every single one of them was looking up at me. He had a point, I did feel sort of stupid just sitting on the table like a lump after all that, so I took a few moments to calm myself down, wincing as my broken arms snapped themselves back into place, followed by my jaw with a sickening, grinding pop. I wriggled it, then slid off the tabletop. 

My father, watching me closely, finally straightened himself up from where he'd lunged to catch my leg mid-attack, but his own legs buckled the moment he was fully upright. He flopped in his chair, breathing on his frostbitten hands as Luka patted my thigh, sympathetic.

Bash, however, scared the hell out of me--his eyes were shining like molten platinum, white and hot, shooting subtle beams like the headlamps of a car. Goosebumps went down my spine because, despite the clear signal that he was pissed, he had absolutely no expression whatsoever on his face.

"I would like to apologize to everyone present for Horst McKenzie's outburst," he said in a cold, steady tone that belied absolutely none of his true emotions. "We werewolves are extremely impulsive beings, and we're also fiercely protective of our loved ones. However, I will not apologize for what he said to Vlad Rofka, nor do I expect him to do so."

"You would encourage such violent behavior in a child?" the archduke pleasantly countered, and my stomach shifted, because I knew what he was trying to do by asking that. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead and under my arms as the archduke looked around with a disdainful flourish of his arms, clearly for show. "That would explain the boy's foul behavior--"

"You're misunderstanding something, severely," Sebastian interrupted through clenched teeth; just like that, his tightly folded hands jerked with an audible crunch, and everyone flinched back in alarm. "Considering the sheer gravity of what the accused did to the man sitting at this table, avoiding retaliation against a jab like the one my friends and I were just subjected to is something even I, with the best of my mental fortitude and patience, barely managed to pull off. And you should all count your blessings that I did."

"My, my, such thinly veiled threats," the elf said slowly. "You do realize that this is a trial, yes? If I deem the boy unsafe, I can take him away from you."

"Horst is a satyr with lycanthropy, Councilman Dalmadora," Bash smoothly countered, narrowing his glowing eyes even as his broken fingers squirmed and settled back into place with a sickening crunch. "He has all the same species-related instincts and temper problems that we do, which means you are not equipped to handle him the way we are. You'd be doing him far more harm than good if you tried."

"That does not mean we won't hold you accountable for reinforcing--"

"You are insane," Sebastian icily cut in, stony facade finally breaking, "if you think that I would ask this young boy to apologize to the very same man who just openly admitted to taking part in his father's rape and attempted murder twenty-two years ago. If you have an issue with that, too bad, buster. I don't believe for a second that if you were in our shoes that you'd have just sat there while you were degraded in such a nasty way, so don't expect us to do the same in the face of disrespect. I won't be slandered and I won't let my charges be slandered, either. Proceed with the trial. Only after the entire trial is over will any sort of apology be given to or from anyone, understand?"

"You condone violence," the duke noted, and my legs grew weak. 

"When it comes to fostering children or guiding my loved ones, no," Bash said with startling ease, raising a bushy, aggressive eyebrow. "As an individual, however, yes, I absolutely do. We are werewolves. We are violent creatures by nature, in ways that may be hard for you to understand. It's why we live in packs, we need to rely on others just to function in a healthy way. To be honest with you, I am very violent, but that side of me only ever comes out if and when the lives of my loved ones are in danger."

"Then you admit that you--"

"That I what? That I've survived wars?" Sebastian sneered, rising to his feet and folding his powerful arms, head held high. "Because I have. I've lived through human wars. Wars with guns. Bombs. Gas that shreds the throat and poisons the body. I've crawled through trenches filled with dead men no older than Horst. I've fought against vampires for centuries, starting right after I was first turned into a werewolf. I'm not going to sit here and pretend to be the greatest and most innocent man on the planet, but you know what I will say? Regardless of what's going on with me, or what sort of fucked up situation I've found myself in, I try my absolute hardest to keep such things away from the people under my care. I don't let my own darkness go anywhere near them, because I am, in fact, responsible with them."

"That's rather bold of you to say," Chtali, the piggish troll woman, sneered. "You've admitted to being violent and capable of taking lives. That's against everything that we are as fae."

"But I'm not fae," Sebastian growled, narrowing his eyes in a warning challenge. "I'm not bound by your laws. And who are you to talk when you people tried to commit an actual genocide against half of your own species twenty thousand years ago?"

"Such a statement is irrelevant in the here and now," the beautiful elf woman sitting beside Sylias called.

"Is it, though?" Bash boomed, letting out a harsh laugh. "You talk prettily of me encouraging violence and disrespect in my charge, and yet you can somehow ignore the fact that a criminal who assaulted one of my kind two decades ago spit at the child that resulted from the violent copulation that transpired? There are perhaps only about seven of you sitting on the thrones who've never taken a life, and there are none who haven't gotten angry over being blatantly disrespected. Not even Heros can claim himself innocent of that... him most personally of all."

That little jab made the archduke's eye twitch spastically. "The difference is, Lord Sebastian, that we have been mature for eons. Violence wasn't fostered in us as children, nor is it fostered in the younglings of today."

"That may be so, and I respect that," Bash snorted, eyes blazing, "but even though Horst is fae like all of you, he's also a lycanthrope like us. If you decide to take him out of my custody after the trial is over and done with, not a single one of you would know the first thing about catering to his lycanthropic instincts, or even how to handle his insane strength. The boy I'm trying to calm down could break the diamond barrier surrounding us with his bare hands if he truly wanted to, in only a few swings. Perhaps even one. We are literally that strong. So, with all due respect, don't misconstrue or judge our methods of parenting him, because not a single one of you could stop this child should he actually lose his temper. Only we can. What you call encouraging violence is really me keeping him calm so he doesn't attack the people responsible for twenty two years of anguish and heartache. If anything, you should think twice before letting those dirty satyrs spew more filth at us."

There was total silence after that, so Bash took a seat again, looking sour and somewhat venomous.

"Lord Sebastian makes a very good point that can't be ignored," Queen Beira murmured, letting loose a tired sigh. "Furthermore, I am puzzled by your words concerning the child's custody, Heros, as well as why you would attempt to judge the accusing party's way of life when the point of today's hearing is to give introductions and let all parties give their testimonies about the crime that was reportedly committed."

"It comes from a place of deep concern, my Queen," Heros said in a cowed tone. "The boy has been afflicted with Severance. He is not even thirty yet, and he has Severance. Why shouldn't I address it, seeing how the accusing party is currently responsible for the child's wellbeing?"

It was here that I'd had enough.

"With all due respect," I called, and everyone snapped to look at me, "I love my family and I'm perfectly fine with how things are. I have a voice of my own, you know, and if I had to choose where I'd live... I'd pick my dad. Every time."

"Even if by doing so you'd wind up at risk?" Heros asked in a calculated tone.

My heart sank and I stared at him, swallowing hard.

"Let me make something clear, to everyone here," I rasped, throat closing. "As upsetting as it may be to hear this... the reality is, I shouldn't exist. I shouldn't be sitting here today. My entire existence... my life, my identity, none of it should have happened. I am the last living, breathing remnant of a horrible crime against Jakhroth McKenzie, my Pop."

"You should not be thinking such things at your age!" the Unseelie King thundered, rising to his feet with an aghast expression, red eyes widening with outraged shock. "You are a miracle, Horst! Like every other child, you are a miracle! You didn't have a choice in your parents! You didn't have a choice in anything, it wasn't your fault! You do deserve to exist! You do!"

"This isn't about what I deserve, though," I quietly countered, turning my eyes on Wisp's, lips twisting sadly. "It's about the reality of things. I exist because Yuma Vynx, sitting over at that table--" I paused to point right at him, though I refused to look at him, "--raped my dad two decades ago while he was in a rut. I exist solely because of his vileness. The reality is, I'm living proof of his crime. HIs mark is on my body. My dad's scars from what every last satyr did to him are all over his back, his head, and even his stomach. That's why I'd pick my dad. He's strong, but knowing the hell he went through and my part in it... I want to be there to make sure nothing bad can ever happen to my family, ever again. I can't and won't leave them."  

"You're a child," Heros said coldly. "That's ultimately not your decision."

"So?" I asked, raising my brows. "Would you rather I grow into someone who resents and hates you all for stealing me away from what I love?"

"Excuse me?" Heros coldly inquired. "I believe I misheard you."

"No, you didn't," I countered, tipping my chin up. "If you try to take me from my family against my will, I'll defy you at every turn. I have people who love me waiting at home. I have a lover waiting for me, too, someone I've given my heart. I have friends. I have an entire life filled with all my hopes and dreams that you'd be stealing from me by taking me away. Don't I have the right to choose what I want to do with my life? Do children not have voices down here?"

"Of course they do, and you do, as well," Beira said gently, cutting in before Heros could open his mouth again. "Your thoughts on such matters shall be taken into heavy consideration and we'll talk amongst ourselves after today's hearing has concluded. If it needs to be addressed, which admittedly has yet to be determined, we will inform thee about it beforehand. For now, I would ask that everyone return their focus to the introductions. We do have a time limit, after all."

"Indeed, we have gotten very much off topic," Belba hummed, raising a giant hand. "Let us continue with the proceedings. The next faun at the table, please rise."

The third one shot up from his seat.

I shrank back with a sigh, keeping my eyes closed. 

I couldn't handle this shit.

"Your name, age, and family," Heros droned.

"I be Felix Dop," a throaty voice bleated. "One hundred and sixty-five-years old, with parents, grandpa, great grandparents, five sisters, nine brothers, husband, wife, seven children, and many, many cousin."

"Take your seat, Felix," Heros sighed. "Next."

Things continued like that for a while, with each satyr getting a chance to state his name, age, and family members. It was a lengthy process, but I didn't look at any of them since I didn't want to see their faces. I was sure I'd just get mad all over again. Thankfully, there were no more opportunities to allow anyone to shit talk, so I managed to keep my cool throughout it all.

I only opened my eyes when something wet dripped onto my hand. I stared at the water on the table with a blank face, swiveling my ears forward in confusion, until I realized that the ice had melted. A churning sensation went through me and I cast a glance at my dad, who was still absently rubbing his hands. I couldn't see any visible wounds, though his focus was on the satyr currently speaking about his copious family members back home. 

I wondered, for a second, how he felt learning the names of his assailants. 

Maybe they'd been nameless monsters to him, too, until today.

Or maybe they still were. 

I didn't know what was going through his head. 

A hand touched my own and I glanced down at it, then looked at Luka. He gave me a soft smile, wiggling his ears at me; mine instinctively did the same, and he squeezed my palm. I felt his love and comfort and warmth flooding my chest, reassuring me that I wasn't alone, even in feeling.

My heart knotted painfully.

I instantly twisted my hand to snag his, squeezing it gently.

I didn't deserve him. I didn't deserve his love. I was a freak who felt evil, dangerous things, full of hate and anger and bitterness and sadness. He didn't need someone like me corrupting him, taking away his smile. He didn't need me, and I didn't deserve him... but here we were.

Together.

And I genuinely needed him, deserving or not. 

I held his hand in silence until the very last satyr had introduced himself.

"All right, that's it for the accused," Heros hummed. "Now, for the accusing party. From left to right, come up here and introduce yourselves. You, there, Faun. Rise and state your name, age, and family before the courts."

I straightened and twisted to watch as Mikki made his way around the table and stopped in front of everyone, facing the same direction as the satyrs who'd been forced to make introductions. 

"I be Mikhail Bernali Vynx," my uncle said in a rough, hoarse voice, face taut. "I not know how old I be, exactly, but thinking it be around sixty-five or sixty-six years. I have mother, father, three nephews, one and only wife, and one brother."

I heard a few gasps and mutterings over at the table with the other satyrs. I chanced a glance to my left to see that Yuma looked stunned--shell-shocked, really. He hung his head, every part of him sagging, and buried his face in his hands. Cold, grim satisfaction flooded through my chest.

I turned my eyes forward and squeezed Luka's hand.

"I'm sorry for feeling the way I do," I whispered, refusing to look at him. "I'm sorry, Luka. I know he's your dad. I know he raised you and that you have a lot of memories with him. I know, but I can't help it. I can't. I'm happy seeing him suffer. I'm sorry."

"No," he murmured back, and his other hand covered mine, patting. "No say sorry. Luka feel same now. Luka angry Yuma hurt everyone while smiling to face. Sasha almost hurt same way, it not Big Horst fault. Feel what need to feel, Big Brother still be here holding hand."

I clenched my jaw and nodded.

Heros was staring at us with an indecipherable expression.

His crystalline blue eyes flicked back to Mikki. 

"Mikhail Vynx," he drawled, tapping a long, thin finger on the diamond armrest of his throne. "You say that you have only one brother, yes?"

"Da," Mikki confirmed, giving a stern nod. "Boris Vynx. He be back home in tribe."

"That's quite a thing to say when your elder brother, Yuma Vynx, is sitting right there," the archduke noted, casually pointing at the satyr at the table. "I don't appreciate lying."

"There be no lie here," Mikki said in a cold, defiant tone, clenching his hands. "Yuma is not my brother. Yuma stop being my brother the day he use magic to cut open every part of my body. He stop when he use magic on mouth to keep me from screaming for Mama and Papa, when he bind hands and feet to stop from fighting when he violate me. He stop when he use slowest healing glamour on all wounds to make it hurt as bad as it can, and then walk away like nothing happen with a smile while I be left crying for hours, alone in forest, no way to break free. I nearly die that day, so, no. Yuma is not my brother, he stop being brother to me long, long time ago."

An eerie silence descended upon the room.

My eyes were wide with shock, and Luka, similarly, looked floored.

Every last one of the satyrs sitting on the bench were staring at him with wide eyes.

Some of them were even looking at Yuma differently.

"How old were you when this happened?" Rahn asked in a hushed, gentle voice, and I swallowed since his eyes were smoldering.

"I was nine," he rasped, hands unclenching and falling open, shoulders sagging. "First few times it happen, I was nine. It happen many times until I turn fourteen, when I finally be so angry and scared and unhappy that I use big magic of my own and explode it all at Yuma, throwing all the way across clearing he hurting me in and into tree. He break leg, crawl home crying, and never try again after that. He tell parents that he fall down from tree, they believe him. Never me, though. I try to tell parents, they not listen. They not believe Mikki be hurt by precious Yuma."

He sneered and sullenly lowered his eyes to the ground, nose twitching in disgust.

"Were you behind a glamour barrier when this happened to you?" Rahn demanded. "Were you trapped in a glamour barrier?"

"Da, I try to get away and slam into invisible magic wall Yuma make," he muttered, nodding without lifting his eyes. "I not feel safe in glamour barriers anymore. I still remember when I be trapped, nowhere to run, and then I be hurt with nobody to hear screaming and crying."

A shudder ran down my spine and Luka's hand tightened on me. Rahn, similarly, appeared to be horrified. "Did you not know that you could have screamed for me or Beira while touching the walls of a glamour barrier you couldn't escape from?!"

Mikhail twitched, then lifted his head to look at the erlking with blank, confused eyes.

"No," he said in a small voice. "I not know. Is that being true?"

"Yes, absolutely," Rahn growled, putting a hand to his forehead. "If you had screamed for help while touching a glamour barrier, someone in the courts would have heard you. All barriers are made of the same magic and because of that, they're all connected to each other once they're active. We have many fae who are regularly assigned to barriers we've created just to listen for such cries for help coming from the surface."

"I not know, never told," he said thickly. "Nobody ever tell me."

"That sounds to me like a serious problem," Meeryn said seriously, straightening. "In lieu of what we've just been told, I propose to the Courts that we launch an investigation after the trial's conclusion to see whether or not our brethren living on the surface remember what they need to do to get our attention during an emergency, as well as whether or not they're teaching their children how to call for help as well. If this faun was hurt because he didn't know what to do, it may mean there are terrible things happening to our kind on the surface that we don't know about because nobody's hearing their cries for help. I ask that we look into it." 

"And so it shall be," Beira said without a second thought. "I will launch an investigation into the matter once things have ended here. Now, young Mikhail, please take your seat. Lord Sebastian, seeing that you are the next to introduce yourself, I would like it to be a little more detailed in your description of yourself. I'd like you to explain who you are, your age, and your job."

"My Queen, that hardly seems necessary," Heros began, but he froze when she turned her head to face him. His hair began to lower and his fingers tightened on his armrests when she made a soft sound, low in the back of her throat. "I mean, I--"

"Herostotle," she murmured in a voice that seemed to transcend simple audio and instead became something... other. "Have you forgotten who I am? Who are you to deem what is necessary and what isn't?"

"I... I deeply apologize, Queen Mother," he stammered, lowering his head. "I was out of line."

"You are forgiven, always," she sighed, facing forward yet again. "I truly want what's best for the children of Earth. I would let him speak his truth and allow him to educate all of us on who he is, as well as what sort of power he holds, because in truth, Lord Sebastian is the reason life on the surface has flourished and become what it is today. He is singlehandedly responsible for many great technological and even architectural evolutions above ground, and I've even heard that he could buy the land above Tir Na Nog if he wanted to. He is someone we must surely respect."

Rahn, to my surprise, gave her a startled look. I wasn't oblivious to the way her full lips curled into the barest hint of a smile, and neither was he, considering his cheeks flushed redder than his hair. Sebastian, however, did exactly as he was told and walked over to stand before them.

"My name is Sebastian Vanderhill D'Agostino," he grunted, head high, shoulders back. "I am five hundred and twenty-two years old, and my job is to make sure that all supernatural entities living in my territories have what they need to live their best lives. It's my job to make sure they don't get exposed to humans, and also to make sure the Underground remains a secret."

"And?" Beira mused. "Don't be shy now."

"And... I... feed... half the planet," he growled, nose reddening. "I've... weaved my work into business empires across the globe and personally... helped build them through partnerships, to the point where... wealth is abundant and very few people go hungry. My businesses give the human world stability and advancement, because if they're stable, we are as well since we have to coexist with them. My main focus, however, will always be to take care of my family."

"You're a crucial part of life on the surface," Beira hummed. "You are a King without a crown, in every way that matters. What you've done for the world above, Sebastian, is on a level that goes over anything we've ever achieved for our people down here. You changed the world without a single person ever knowing your face or name, and you are humble enough to be content with it as long as the children around you are smiling and living good lives. That is true leadership."

"Uh... I... hn," he grunted, looking a little flustered. After a second, he cleared his throat. "I'm not actually royalty, Queen Beira... I'm just a man with lycanthropy. I do what I can, yes, but I'm not at all perfect or as good as you make me seem. I've made mistakes that I sorely regret, including with my own husband. I was... terrible, to him, when I met him. I'm not worthy of such praise."

"You, too, were hurt by someone, though," she murmured, and he froze. "You were nearly killed by your first love, you were mistreated without even knowing it, and you lost many children by his hands. He gave them to you on purpose just to take them away, and he erased your memory of the incidents. Nobody would come out of such horror unscathed... not even me, and I daresay that despite any mistakes you may have made with your second husband, you two became one of the most lovely couples I've seen since my beloved Rahn and I were wed."

Here, she reached over and took the giant satyr king's hand.

His eyes twitched wider in surprise, and he looked at her, but she didn't meet his gaze.

"I don't know what to say," Sebastian said sincerely, staring at her.

"You don't have to say anything further," she murmured, giving him a nod. "However, before you take your seat, I have heard that there is actually an emergency taking place in your household right now. Is it true that a child you love dearly has gone missing?"

Bash twitched. "Er, yes. Nikki Robertson, my grandniece by law--she's missing, but to be blunt, I suspect she may have been kidnapped by vampires. You see, my husband and I developed the cure for the disease that causes vampires to lose their capacity for emotion. It's caused some serious damage to the structure of vampire hierarchy, and it's also given us political power over their species, which admittedly, has put us at risk for some nefarious behavior. Not too long ago, there was an attack on my home and several of my packmates were hurt."

"Ah, yes, that," Rahn murmured, nodding. "I remember receiving a plea from Saint Thomas himself to allow your group to use our fairy rings as a method for emergency transportation in the event that something else happens. I also heard that one of the Wu Tao dragons interfered before the attack and managed to change the fate of several people within your home."

"That's true," Sebastian confirmed, giving a nod. "Huang Wu Tao made a villain of himself and acted to a fault like he was going to sincerely assault Horst sexually. His actions led to them not being present during the attack, and it was only afterwards that we learned from his mother that all of the people who left with him would have died had he not behaved the way he did."

"I see," Beira murmured, nodding. "You are close with the Wu Tao family, then?"

"They've proclaimed themselves to be my family's guardians," he rumbled; the moment he said it, a dull roar began to echo from outside the diamond cube. Beira nodded slowly, then lifted her hand, and like magic the sound ceased. 

"You trust them," she said simply.

"With my life, considering they have saved my husband's more times than I care to admit," he confirmed with a firm nod. "In fact, I'd like to ask--"

"In that case, considering the grave circumstances your family is in right now," Beira murmured, and he snapped his mouth shut, "would you be comfortable with allowing Anurak Wu Tao, the head of the family, to step in for you as a proxy to Horst's rights of Lycanthropic Guardianship?"

Sebastian froze, seeming genuinely taken aback, and he blinked rapidly. "Actually, I was going to ask if I could do just that. I am needed back home. I'm the only one capable of finding Nikki."

"Alright then," she hummed, nodding thoughtfully. "After today's hearing, I will ask that you be sent home through magical means so you can find your beloved grandniece. Anurak will step in and take over your position as the lycanthropic advocate for Horst. Does anyone protest this?"

She tilted her head. Not a single person opened their mouth, though Chtali and several of the Dalmadora elves looked like they were ready to start foaming at the mouth. 

"Well, it would seem like we're in agreement," Belba cheerfully exclaimed. "Thank you for the introduction, Lord Sebastian. Please take your seat now, aye? Next! The young female faun!"

Bash stalked back over to his seat while Sasha laboriously rose from her wheelchair and hobbled around the table, cradling her belly with one hand and bracing her back with the other. She seemed a little out of breath when she stopped walking.

"I am Sasha Vynx," she called, fluttering her blonde ears. "I am thirty-four. I have Papka Ulfric, Husband Luka, Brother Horst, Papka Jakhroth, and all werewoofs at home as direct family."

"No mother?" Heros politely inquired.

"Mama and twin sister both die after I be born," she said solemnly. "There be big problem in tummy... healing magic did not work the way it should, so, no. I grow up with Papka only, never have Mama or siblings, but that be okay. I have loving father who very, very protective of me."

"I see," Heros droned. "Well, take your seat now, my dear. You should be resting. Next!"

I glanced to the left when my dad rose to his feet and shuffled past Sasha, who sank down into her wheelchair with a sigh of relief. He shoved his hands into his pockets after he stopped where everyone else had, then cast a momentary look at me. His eyes seared my mind and heart.

He was scared.

I could see it.

"My name is Jakhroth Roy McKenzie," my father said in a clear, strong voice, staring straight into my eyes, seeing me, only me. "I am one hundred and five years old, as of thirty minutes ago, and my direct family members are my sons, Horst and Luka, my brother, and my parents." 

My heart palpitated and I jerked my head down, scanning the table as I did mental math.

My blood ran cold.

"Aw, shit," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut when I realized, for the first time, that today was indeed October eleventh, his birthday. Why was it happening on his God damn birthday?! Of all days?! I'd stupidly lost track of time down here, lost track of the day and the hour--there wasn't a sky to tell me how much time had been passing, and I hadn't been looking at my calendar. 

A sudden clatter came from the right.

"Luka is not your son!" Vlad Rofka screamed, thrusting a finger at him. "Disrespect! You take Luka, poison him against own father with lies! Filthy lies! You disgusting, filthy bastard!" 

My father turned around and looked at him without expression.

The satyr sneered, then spit in his direction, but my dad didn't even flinch.

"I remember you," Pop said after a long silence, and the satyr drew back, brows furrowed. "You were the one who goaded Yuma into stabbing me in the stomach with his broken horn. You were also the first to urinate on me after the assault. You also broke my nose, both my legs, cracked my skull in seven places with your hooves, contributed to my resulting brain damage, and damaged my genitals to the point where my manhood and testicles were nearly severed."

He flinched with every accusation and seemed to sink down. "I not do any of that to you."

"You laughed," my dad said in a faraway tone, staring at him with dilated pupils. "You laughed as my stomach was ripped open. You laughed at as I was scalded by your... when you..."

He trailed off, seemingly at a loss, and my heart burned hot and angry.

"What?" Vlad sneered. "You want apology? You the one who hurt my tribe first! You get punished exact same way you harm Yuma! You rape him first! Not other way around!"

"Is that what he told you?" my father asked in a shaken way, giving him a smile that wasn't all there; I was sure everyone could see the effect this confrontation was having on him, or maybe it was just because I knew him so well that I could tell that his sanity was fraying. "Is that what he said I did to him? To get you all to come and take part in the atrocities you inflicted on me?"

"Da, and he prove it," he growled. "He showed wounds on body that only come from mating."

"Then let me ask you this," Pop countered, calm and icy. "How the hell could I have done anything like that to him while tied to a tree with silver chains? Did you even bother wondering why I was tied up like that with seed and blood clearly leaking from me? My pants were hanging off my ankle, I couldn't even get them back up because I was too weak to break the chains, and my arms were tied. How would I have raped him like that? Did you ever wonder?"

The satyr seemed flummoxed, seeming to actually think about it, eyes narrowing.

He blinked once, twice, then turned to look at Yuma, visibly confused. He said something in Russian, questioningly, but the fucker didn't even make eye contact with him... just stared at the table, head lowered, ears drooping. Vlad said something else, harsher, face changing, looking a little desperate. Yuma just closed his eyes and nodded his head, slowly, guiltily.

Vlad let out a scream and lunged upright from his chair, clutching his hair.

"YOU LIED TO US?!" he screeched, letting loose a bleat. "YUMA! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU LIED ABOUT HIM DOING A BAD SEX TO YOU?! YOU LIED AND GAVE FAKE CRYING ABOUT IT?!"

"I'm sorry, Vlad," Yuma murmured, not lifting his head. "I lied. He broke my horn. I wanted to make him pay, so, I used all of you. It was my doing, not yours."

"YUMA!" another satyr wailed. "WHY YOU DO THIS?! WE BELIEVED YOU!"

"I know," he sighed, nodding. "I know you did. This is all on me. Karma at its finest."

"You admit to the crimes you are being accused of?" Sylias quipped, and a quick glance made me realize that almost everyone looked surprised or shocked. "You admit to doing such vile, terrible things to the man standing here before us? Without fighting for your innocence?"

"Yes. I admit it," Yuma rasped, standing up without warning. "I am the reason for everything that's happened. I am responsible for every last thing, from the pain I inflicted on my youngest brother during his earliest years, to the assault I forced upon Jakhroth McKenzie. I raped him that day. I admit it, I saw someone helpless, an easy target, and I took advantage of his vulnerability... I did it, and I enjoyed it, too. His pain. His screams. How he struggled. I enjoyed every second I had with him until I was finished. But I let my guard down... and I regretted it. He lashed out. Broke my horn--"

"You vile, filthy--" Bash began to growl, but Beira lifted a hand and shook her head.

"I went back to the herd and manipulated my closest friends into believing I was the one who'd gotten hurt," Yuma bellowed, slapping his chest. "I lied to them, I told them that a stranger had attacked me, degraded me, and violated me in horrible ways, I told them all that he'd even pissed on me and broken my horn... and they got angry over my tears. They got angry on my behalf, and I relished in the way they took off looking for him... but I didn't realize how deep that anger went until they found him chained up. With their encouragement, they had me watch as they reenacted everything I'd told them he'd done--more, actually, they went even farther, they beat his head in while violating him, they broke the chains just so they could crush his face into the dirt with their hooves. They did so much, all for me. All for my tears. It was all for me."

My father shuddered, abruptly clutching his stomach.

Or rather, the scars on them.

"You... you are evil," he said in a shaken whisper. "You're the first real evil I've ever seen."

"You know? Maybe I am," Yuma conceded with a sad smile. "I still have nightmares about the scream that left your lips when I stabbed you. I still can't think back on the look in your eyes... the way you were staring at me as I ripped your belly from one hip to the other. It haunts me, sincerely, because it was in that moment, when I saw your eyes, that I realized what I'd done. I realized, fully, that I was a monster. You didn't deserve any of what I did to you back then."

"Then, why?" my dad asked, shaken. "Why did you? Why me?! Why did you do any of it?!"

"Simple," he rasped, snapping a finger; orbs of light winked into existence. "I wanted to be able to explore the magnificence of glamour, and to do that, I need to be unhappy. That's why, even though it isn't in my nature... I hurt you on purpose. All these years, I thought I'd murdered you with my own hands. That scream of yours still rings in my ears. That one scream... it's been the fuel for every large spell I've ever used. My own guilt over what I'd done to you powered my magic to a level I'd never been able to reach before, so I willingly let your voice haunt me for two decades, just so I could flourish with what I really wanted. Now, thanks to you, it's skyrocketed a second time. It's been thrilling to say the least."

"What?" my dad whispered, stunned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying thank you," Yuma murmured, giving him a nod. "From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for bringing me here today."

"Are you insane?" Belba asked curiously. "You sound insane right now."

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Yuma allowed with an airy shrug; then he looked at my dad, who stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at him. "No matter what happens to me, Jakhroth... no matter what sentence I receive, you'll be giving me exactly what I've always wanted. My suffering will only give power to my magical ability, after all, and that's always been my real goal. I used you back then, and I'm using you now--I will never stop using your agony to suit my own goal. I'll be grateful for every tear you shed in the future, and I'll be remorseful no matter what you decide to do to me over my past actions. So, go ahead, make me pay. Do whatever you want to get back at me, if that's what you wish. I'll accept anything and everything with open arms and a smile." 

My heart nearly stopped when he did just that, smiling all the way to his eyeteeth.

It was like for me, the world stopped turning in that second. The reality of what he was saying crept across me like ice, filled me to the brim with a feeling so awful it made me wish I could knock myself unconscious. I stared at him with a sinking stomach, at the smile he was giving my father, and it was sincere. There was no farce in his words. There was no lie to be found. 

He... wanted us to make him suffer.

By making him suffer, we would be helping him with his dreams.

My body went bone cold, ice cold, sub zero, and my ears slowly went limp.

Even if he gets punished, I realized with a sharp, stabbing pain to my heart, it won't be real to him, it won't matter. He'll still gain something he wants. He'll keep using us to fuel his own desires, his magic. No matter what we do... we can't win against him.

We couldn't win.

We'd never been able of winning, not really. I would never fully be redeemed and my father would never get the closure he needed because Yuma would never be fully capable of being punished. His suffering fueled what he wanted to do with his life. We were giving him exactly what he wanted right now. We'd played right into his hands, into his sick little game.

Slow, horrible waves anguish crept through my stomach, knotting it, making me want to cry my eyes out, not just for me, but for my dad. For the look on his face as he sat there staring at Yuma's twisted smile.

I hated it.

I hated it all.

It wasn't fair.

But fair or not, my dreams of redemption were disappearing in front of my eyes.

That smile told me I'd never feel okay about being alive.

"For truth?" 

That single question cut through my thoughts and I looked up.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone, sitting on the thrones was slack-jawed. Heros, all five of his sons, and his wife had bugging eyes and open mouths. Rahn looked like he'd swallowed a bee and even Queen Beira's jaw was hanging loose, though her eyes were still closed. I think, most surprisingly to me, was the sheer amount of horror on Chtali's piggish face.

"Are you telling the truth?" the troll woman asked, standing upright in an instant, green hair flying into her face. "Are you truly telling the truth to the courts right now?! Did you really do such vile things to someone else for such a petty, flighty reason?!"

"I absolutely did," Yuma said, giving her a sad smile. "Finding out that I had a son I never knew about came as a shock to me, but when I realized he hated me because I was the sole reason he grew up feeling unloved and alone... it gave me chills of the most pleasantly painful sort. I still get goosebumps thinking about it. The look on his face, all the grief in his eyes... ah. I'm so glad Jakhroth lived. I'm so glad he gave birth to Horst, my second son. I'm even glad that we're here today--I can finally breathe again, now that this horrible secret is no longer buried in my chest. I can breathe, I feel lighter. I feel free. And the best part is that no matter what happens after the trial, I will still wind up winning in some shape or form when all is said and done."

"Oh, my Stars," Chtali whispered, looking first at me, then my father, eyes wide. "Oh, Gods, no."

Without warning, she leapt off the platform despite the cries of shock and protest from the other members of the courts and charged at my dad. He flinched, stumbling backwards as she leapt at him with outstretched arms. I lurched upright, planning on attacking her if she hurt him, but to my confusion... she crashed into his stomach and hugged the hell out of him.

"W-what are you doing?!" Pop squawked. "Get off me, mon!" 

"I can't!" she cried, tipping her face back with tears running down her ashen grey cheeks. "I can't let go of you now! I am so very sorry for the horrible things I said to you and your son! I am sorry for not believing you! I am sorrier than I have been since the aftermath of the Great War! Please, forgive me, I beg you! For my awfulness, for every barbed word that left my lips! To both of you!"

"I... I forgive you," my dad stammered, arms out, refusing to touch her. "I forgive you, I do, but... the trial is still going on, so, you should... take your seat."

"What else is there to discuss?" Yuma chuckled, spreading his arms. "I did it. I'm guilty. I don't regret it and I likely never will, not fully, because your pain fueled my power, Jak. Your suffering, and the suffering of the spawn I put in your belly all those years ago makes me stronger. That strength makes me feel fulfilled, so what more needs to be said? If anything, go ahead and cry about it. Make me regret it, make me hate myself for what I did to you, make me pay, Jak. That's all that matters to you in the end, and it'll give us both what we want, right? Make me suffer."

My stomach knotted and I dug my claws into the table.

He was using my father.

He was still hurting us to suit his own personal interests... and he was doing it in front of millions of people, in front of the tribe members he'd lied to and manipulated into hurting someone innocent, in front of every single ruler leading the faery realm.

He really didn't care.

He didn't regret it.

He was using us, he would always use us.

We couldn't punish him.

In the end, he was going to walk away satisfied.

We couldn't touch him, not for real.

"This can't be happening," I weakly muttered, rubbing my eyes. "Someone, tell me this isn't happening... please."

But nobody even looked my way.

I looked up at the ceiling through a white sheen. I didn't have the strength or the emotional willpower to care about anything anymore, and I wasn't going to try and fix it. If I couldn't justify my existence by making the people responsible for breaking my family pay... then there was no point in continuing. At least not for me. My dad deserved justice, but my fire was gone.

My anger would never be sated. I would never really heal. Yuma had destroyed my dreams of redemption and broken my heart and my life was going to stay lost in the dark because he just didn't care about what he'd done, he didn't regret it, he would never regret it even if he was hit with a punishment from the four courts and had his name dragged through the mud.

The entire faery world was watching him.

And he didn't give a fuck. 

He was torturing both my father and I with a fucking smile in front of everyone. 

My dad's legs shook and unexpectedly buckled. Chtali, still holding him, let out a gasp and ended up falling backwards, landing on her butt. Pop stared at Yuma, every part of him limp, looking old. I didn't think, I was too numb for something like that, it didn't feel real to me, it didn't feel like something substantial, but it was.

"Today is my birthday," he rasped, hanging his head and closing his eyes. "You do this to me on my day of birth, you throw my agony in my face despite what you did, and you don't regret it... at all, do you? You really don't regret hurting me because it benefits you? All this talk about your magic... like you're obsessed with it. You really... you did all of that to me for such... that's why?"

"Da," Yuma casually agreed, blatantly ignoring the looks of horror and sickness and fury from the satyrs sitting around him. "I'll do anything and everything to further my proficiency. I won't be punished forever, either, so if I'm not sentenced to death I'll eventually be released back out into the world to continue doing what I love. My impending solitude and everything I've lost today will only serve to strengthen the one thing I do have left, my magic. I'll always have that. You can't take it away the way you did my Luka. You can't take anything else from me, Jak. Too bad for you."

Luka startled me by lurching to his feet.

"SHUT UP, SUKA!" he screamed, and to his credit, Yuma looked stunned, twitching to stare at him with wide eyes from behind his spectacles. "SHUT FACE! JAK NOT TAKE LUKA AWAY FROM YUMA, IT YUMA WHO TAKE LUKA AWAY FROM YUMA! YOU HURT EVERYONE ON PURPOSE! YOU HURT JAK, UNCLE MIKKI, HORST, GRANDMAMA, GRANDPAPA! AND YOU HURT L--"

He froze, mid-sentence, body jerking violently for a second. He staggered, mouth working, clutching his chest as a cold pulse went through our bond. My eyes went wide. I slowly turned my head to stare at my brother as a familiar sensation began to spread through my soul.

Empty dark, sucking all the warmth he'd been giving me out of my chest, pulling on something inside me, taking it from me and ripping it away. My heart began to pound as his mouth went slack, breathing becoming labored, pupils slowly expanding, becoming impossibly wide.

"Luka?" I whispered, horrified. 

He didn't respond, though his ears did begin to sag and every part of him started to go limp. Panic shredded my brain and I lunged at him without thinking, clutching his cheeks. A scent I wasn't familiar with, cloying and unpleasant, assaulted my nose.

His eyes finally found mine.

He seemed to be having trouble seeing me.

"Luka, are you okay?!" I breathed. "Can you hear me?"

He squinted, but shook his head. "I not hearing. It loud, like thunder."

"Oh, shit," I squeaked, then screeched. "NO! SHIT! BASH! HELP! HELP!"

"What?!" Yuma cried, sounding fearful. "What's wrong?!"

My throat caught when Luka's emotions flooded me again, familiar and grey and empty and--

"Severance!" I wailed, panicking. "Luka is having a severance attack! He's got SEVERANCE!"

"WHAT?!" Sasha cried, and pandemonium erupted in a flash. All the lords and ladies lurched off their thrones and flew across the room to surround the two of us, chattering incomprehensibly.

"Horst, how do you know?!" Bash snarled. "Can you stop it from happening to him?!" 

"I don't know how!" I cried, freaking out. "I don't even know how he was stopping my attacks!"

"Luka!" Sasha hollered, struggling to get upright along with everyone else when his legs buckled and he fell against me, limbs weakening. "LUKA! Hubby! Hubby! No! Let me through!"

"Horst... chest hurt," Luka said weakly, staring straight into my eyes. "What happening?"

I stared back at him, cold fear creeping through me at the sight of tears filling his eyes.

"How did you push my severance back?" I demanded, leaning close to his face and touching my mouth. His eyes landed on them, so I said clearly, "read my lips. How did you push my severance back? How. Did. You. Push. My. Severance. Back?"

"Ah... touching birthmark," he rasped, eyes fluttering, pupils way too big. "Touch, and... love, let love touch heart. Close eyes, imagine warm hand reaching in and pulling out unhappy. It just happen when picturing it in head. Not know how or why, it just do."

I nodded and immediately did as he'd instructed, sliding my hand behind his back and pressing my palm against his birthmark. I closed my eyes and set my forehead against his, lips curling into a snarl as I thought back to everything about him that I loved. His smile, his laugh, his arms, his goofy personality, everything that made him such a wonderful person. I pushed all of that across the chain between us, forcing it deep into his heart, surrounding it with love.

Because I did.

I did love him. 

He was my big brother.

I'd gone my whole life without him, and I wasn't about to let him go before the two of us could finally be happy together. I'd been a miserable person to be around, and the only thing he really knew about me was centered around the shit his father had done to mine. We hadn't had any real fun together yet. We hadn't played with Dari enough. He hadn't seen his children.

There was so much we both had to do together.

"I won't let you go," I whispered into his ear, clutching him tighter. "I won't let you get sick like I am, ever. You promised me, Luka. Do you remember? You said that you'd be fine because you have Sasha and your kids to think about. You told me that you wouldn't get sick like me, even if you did feel the pain I've been keeping inside me. You said it wouldn't happen because of me."

"It not you," he rasped, mouth quivering. "Not your fault. Yuma. He do such... I..."

To my horror, his face cracked, and the agony exploded into my chest, like a bomb. 

I lost the ability to breathe. 

I couldn't inhale.

I couldn't exhale.

I couldn't speak, even though I wanted to scream in agony.

A sensation like a knife in my belly ripped my guts in half, spreading up and outward, as if ripping my entire body apart from groin to throat, gutting me. I barely heard it when he burst into tears, barely felt it when he went limp, ugly crying, every part of him shaking.

His emotions blinded me, overpowered me, and because of it, I cracked like a mirror.

Tears filled my eyes within seconds of the ones that filled his, and before I could blink, I was crying hysterically right along with him, face screwing up as we howled. He clutched me tight and I curled up into a ball, crushed under the weight of his grief and my own, unable to move.

I couldn't do anything but weep and hold onto him.

My soul was being strangled by his overwhelming anguish.

"I think... for today, that'll be enough," Beira murmured, though I barely heard her. "We're ending the hearing much earlier than I originally anticipated, but we will continue tomorrow starting at the same time. Rahn, my love... would you please take these poor boys and put them in a safe place while I wrap up the closing speech and handle the outcry that's sure to come?"

"Of course, Heart," a deep voice rumbled, and though I was still sobbing, two arms slid under my brother and I, scooping us both up. "Sasha, come here. You're coming, too."

"Oh, thanking!" she gasped, and with a lurch, Rahn snapped his fingers. I creaked my watery eyes open, still bawling like a two-year-old, to see that we were in an unfamiliar room.

"Rahn?" Wokka asked, sounding shocked. "What happened?! Why are you back so soon?! Why are those children crying their eyes out?!"

"Skittle, please go grab all the sweet snacks the cooks give sad, crying kids," he rumbled, stomping over to a huge four-poster bed with silken sheets and blankets in hues of green and gold. With gentle hands, he set Luka and I down on it, then flopped down beside us.

I didn't stop crying, nor did my brother.

"He got hit with severance?" Rahn asked, reaching out with tentative hands to touch me. I nodded and Sasha let out a shaken breath before a sniffle met my ears. I turned to look at her, but my horror increased tenfold when I saw that she was crying, too, clutching her ears. Her lips quivered and she squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down across her freckled cheeks.

"Yuma is not worth you being so sad you get Severance," she whimpered. "That evil, evil bitch! He so evil! He hurt my Luka! He hurt everyone! No more! No more, we not go back to trial! We go home, now! We go home and live and be happy! No more seeing Yuma, ever again!"

"You're a witness," Rahn calmly reminded her. "You were almost a victim yourself--"

"I NOT CARING!" she screeched, and I flinched, cuddling Luka even more. "HE ALREADY SAY HE DO EVERYTHING! WHY I NEED TO TELL EVERYONE HE FOLLOWING ME INTO WOODS WHEN HE ALREADY SAY HE BE GUILTY?! NO NEED TO TELL, HE DO HIMSELF! NO MORE! We go home! When feeling better, we go home, okay?! No more pain, no more sadness! No more! We go home!"

Rahn seemed hesitant, but eventually he sighed, nodding sadly.

"Fine," he murmured. "If that's what you want, then while the trial takes place, you may be exempt. I'm sure after what just happened today, nobody will hold anything against you if you decide not to come back to give a testimony tomorrow. Instead, I'll give you a remembrance crystal to use. You'll activate it by touching it with a gem I'll leave in your care, and then you'll speak to it about what was happening to you around Yuma. Once you're done, you'll give it back to me, okay? For now, just cuddle the boys and love them. I need to go now, understand?"

"Yes," she peeped, crawling into the bed and snuggling against her husband, who was still weeping quietly. I just sniffled a bit. I wasn't sobbing anymore, and I could feel my brother's anguish, but I didn't feel the horrible sensation of Severance coming from him anymore.

Still... the fact remained that he'd had an attack.

He'd had a Severance fit, just like me.

A slow, creeping wave of guilt slid across my heart. 

This was my fault. 

I'd nearly killed Luka by putting him into this situation in the first place. I could have just left it alone. I could have kept Sasha and Luka away from Yuma and never told anyone the truth. If I'd done that... would the outcome have been different?

"I'm sorry," I whispered, tears trickling down my nose, hot and unpleasant. "I'm so sorry. I never should have asked to meet other satyrs. I never should have pressured Pop into knowing more about myself. If I hadn't, you guys would still be happy. You wouldn't be in so much pain."

"No!" Luka wailed softly, clutching my cheeks. "Stop saying that! No more! Luka is happy Big Horst came to play! Luka loves little brother very, very much, this not be your fault, and it not happen again! Luka promise--Papka just... he break bond. He break soul bond to Luka, it gone now, Luka felt it happen... ach, it hurt. Horst, how do you live like this?"

"What do you mean?" I scoffed. 

"This pain," he rasped, mouth quivering. "It like cut inside heart rubbing against rough tree bark all times. It hurt so bad... how you not crying all the time?"

I swallowed, feeling sick to my stomach.

"It's because I have you," I croaked, face screwing up. "You were there for me every single step of the way, and you saved my life when I got hit with severance. I'm not gonna let you get hurt like me, okay? I'll help make it better the way you do for me. I'll love you and protect you no matter what he says or does, we're blood brothers, do you understand me? You're gonna be okay."

"Luka know," he sniffled, laughing a bit through his tears; his eyes were red and puffy, but he was looking at me clearly. "You love Big Brother. Luka felt, full blast. You love. True love."

"Yeah, I do," I said, giving him a weak grin, tears streaming across my cheeks. "I fuckin' love you and Sasha, both. You're a part of my life now, and I want you to be part of my future, too. When this shit is over... let's go home, all of us. Let's go home and then, we'll go on a trip... you, me, Dari, Sasha, Pop, Echo, and maybe Ulfric, if he wants to come. Just the seven of us, together."

"Da, okay," Luka sniffed, patting my cheek. "That sound fun. We go and play?"

"So much play," I promised, reaching out to clutch his ears and gently thumbing the soft, velvety fur on them. "We'll play so much that we'll collapse from exhaustion the moment we get to ourselves bed. We'll do whatever we want, whenever we want, every single day. We'll play, we'll laugh, we'll watch movies, we'll wrestle and tumble and swim, and go fishing--it'll be great. I'll even show you guys what a theme park is and take you on roller coasters, merry go rounds, the teacup rides, and then we'll hit the water parks. We'll go on water slides. It'll be great."

"That sounding amazing," he sniffed, ears perking. "We do all that together?"

"Yeah, buddy," I confirmed, wrapping my arms around him and tugging him against my chest. I sighed heavily, rubbing his back, being extremely attentive to his emotional spectrum. "We'll do it together, and so much more. Our future is going to be so big, and bright, and beautiful, we just gotta get past this week, that's all. Just this week and we're free to exist however we want."

"Okay," Luka sighed, nodding. "Severance not happen again. Luka promise. Today... it be hard, but Luka have wifey and babies to think of. It not happen again. I be okay to go tomorrow."

"No," I raspily retorted, shaking my head. "I don't want to see his face, ever again. I love my dad, and I want to support him as much as I can, but I won't be able to handle Yuma after that. I can't do it. I honestly... I'm thinking of bailing on the trial. I seriously can't do this again."

"No, Horst, you can't," Sasha breathed. "You must be there for your Papka."

"Sasha, I can't," I protested, shaking violently. "I just can't. Don't you get it? Yuma was right, no matter what we do, he's going to win in the end."

"That not be true!" she snapped. "He just saying that!"

"No, I don't think he was," I croaked, and she drew back, staring at me. "He... he actually wants us to make him suffer. He wasn't lying about what he said today--we're giving him exactly what he wants by putting him through this. We're giving him new negative experiences, and he wants that so he can further his magic. If I make him suffer the way I really want to, he still wins."

"Horst," she muttered, frowning. "That not mean you should give up."

"Well, what else can we do?" I asked, shrugging helplessly. "If we punish him in any way, he'll still have the satisfaction of gaining something out of his own suffering. He'll never regret it completely no matter what we do... and I don't think I'm psychologically capable of coping with that reality, of having to live with the fact that he'll never fully regret what he did to my family."

"Don't leave Jak alone," she said severely. "It not about you, Horst. It about your papka."

"I know, but... still," I weakly protested. "I won't be redeemed the way I need to be if he doesn't suffer for his actions, with no benefit to make him feel better about it. I just don't... I don't know what to do now, Sasha. How do you punish someone who actually wants to be punished? How do you get even with someone if doing so will only help them accomplish their dreams?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Wok cut in, and all three of us jumped. We turned to look towards the voice just in time to see a glamour door sealing itself against the side of the cavernous wall. Hovering above the little imp were several platters filled to the brim with baked sweets and succulent morsels of food. His eyes, however, were amused as he studied us. 

"No, it isn't," I irritably snapped, mouth trembling. "We can't really punish Yuma in way that'll satisfy us completely since anything the courts do will pretty much give him exactly what he wants. We can't do anything. I'm sure death sentences don't exist down here, but even if they did, giving him that wouldn't solve anything or make us feel better. We can't make him pay, because if we do, it benefits him, so, no, it isn't obvious in the slightest what we should do."

"Hm. You're much more narrow-minded than I thought," Wok sighed, rolling his eyes. "I was watching the trial through Rahn's scrying crystal. I saw everything that happened today. Yuma is likely trying to take all of the blame of the attack upon his own shoulders."

"What?" Luka sniffled. "Why?"

"Because, his tribe members will look more like victims of manipulation than monsters," Wok sighed, clucking his tongue in distaste. "They'll get a reduced sentence, too, most likely, because of the way they reacted to the truth."

"You can't be serious," I deadpanned, infuriated. "Just because they were manipulated, it doesn't mean that they didn't do terrible things. They're guilty of their own actions, regardless of who first influenced them. They chose to do what they did to my father."

"I know, I know," Wok sighed, giving me a smirk, "but if you really want to make Yuma hurt, I suggest you put a brave face on and make yourself present for tomorrow's hearing."

"Why?" I questioned. "Why the hell should I?"

"To gain the personal satisfaction of taking everything from him," Wok said with a sinister smile, one that made me blink and stare at him funny. "He admitted to everything, after all, and I'm assuming his punishment is up in the air. Whatever you want to happen will likely happen at this point thanks to the mess he's made of himself in front of the entire fae population. So, why not hit him with a punishment that will crush every fiber of his being? One that will really hurt?"

I sat up a little, furrowing my brows. "Is there a way to do that?"

"Oh, but of course," Wok murmured, setting the trays down on the bed and snagging a delicious-looking tart covered in some sort of icing with his tail. He took a bite, politely dabbed at his chin with a little napkin, then grinned like a feral animal. "All you have to do is show up tomorrow and tell the Four Courts what his punishment should be. It's that simple and easy, little one."

"What punishment?" I asked, frustrated. "You haven't told me what it should be!"

"Master Horst," Wok sighed, clicking his tongue at me. "Really?"

"Really what?!"

The pooka sighed exasperatedly.

"You've said yourself that you can't punish him because it'll help him further his dreams," he reminded me, tilting his little head. "So, why not take those dreams away on top of whatever punishment you see fit? If you do that, it'll break him for real and he will suffer the way he should be suffering as punishment for his actions. To make a bastard such as him pay, you have to hit him where it really hurts. So, tomorrow, do exactly that. Hit him where it hurts."

"I'm not sure how," I said slowly. "I don't get what you're asking me to do--"

"Oh, for Pan's sake--his magic, child!" Wok blurted, looking totally affronted. "Have them seal away his ability to use magic, for good! Propose to the courts that his ability to spellcast be taken away from him, permanently! Have them seal his magic and you will break down that disgusting confidence we all witnessed today. Believe me, he won't be so smug after that!" 

I froze from horn to hoof, staring at him, wide-eyed.

"That's a thing?" I asked, and the imp drew back, brows furrowing. "I didn't know magic could be sealed like you're saying it can. I thought it was part of our bodies... that's why we can use it at all, right? Theoretically, wouldn't sealing his magic cause problems with his health?" 

"Oh, absolutely," Wokka sneered. "It'll be physically excruciating for a long time while his body adjusts to the blockage, but it won't kill him. He'll simply suffer physically for a while, but it'll eventually fade and his body will go back to normal--without the ability to use magic, of course."

My heart began to pound.

I looked at Luka, who stared up at me with wide eyes.

I searched his face, trying to find an answer in it.

"What do you want to do?" I finally asked, and he twitched, startled. "Do you think we should go tomorrow and ask the courts to make that his first biggest punishment?"   

"Why ask Luka?" he hoarsely inquired. 

"Because your thoughts and feelings matter to me," I explained, reaching out to fondle his ear. A trickle of grateful warmth flooded my heart, and I tightened my grip on the furry limb, squeezing it gently but sternly. "So, tell me... do you think what Wok suggested is a good idea? Yuma is your dad, so... I'll leave the final say up to you. It's your choice this time, nobody else's."

He thought about it for a second, then rubbed his puffy eyes and sat up.

"Papka say he do such awful things for magic," my brother raspily informed me, rubbing his thighs with a glum expression. He turned to touch his wife's belly. "He be worst monster, all for magic. He do such awful things for magic. Wok be right. We take away magic forever, and he never have reason to hurt anyone."

"So, you think it's a good idea?" I asked, hope swelling in my heart. "For real?"

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding once. "Horst, we go back tomorrow. We go to trial, tell Jak and everyone what we want to happen to Yuma as punishment. We tell them why we wanting it, too, and we take magic away so he never hurt anyone again for any reason. Ever."

"All right," I murmured, leaning close and nuzzling his curly hair. "Together, then. You, me, Sasha, my dad, Anurak... all of us. We'll do this together. We'll talk to them about it when they come later, because they're probably going to rush here the moment they can."

"Da," Luka agreed, sniffing a bit; he rubbed his eyes and cheeks, then looked at his wife, who stared at him worriedly. His face crumpled and he reached out, clutching her cheeks. "Luka be very, very sorry, Sweetleaf. Not meaning to scare poor wifey."

"Shush, Hubby!" she bleated, abruptly dragging him into a kiss. "No more sad talk! If you go trial tomorrow, I go, too! We go together, with Horst! We be family, but if you feel severance happen, we not go again, okay? We just stay in rooms and cuddle and get better until we go home."

"Okay," he hummed, peppering her lips and cheeks with kisses. "So sorry."

"It is not your fault, it is Yuma's fault," she whispered. "He is being the reason you so hurt today, he is the reason you have severance attack. No more, my baby. No more, we do not need him."

"Okay," he weakly repeated. 

"Tomorrow, then," I sighed, flopping down, staring at the unfamiliar bed's canopy. I snagged the nearest sweet from a tray and put it in my mouth, shivering as the delightful flavor of some kind of berry-laden pastry assaulted my tongue. It was sweet and tangy and made me feel better. 

I grabbed another two and held them out to Luka and Sasha, who popped them into their mouths only to gasp and moan in delighted surprise. We chewed for a bit, and I saw Wokka watching us and looking quite satisfied for some reason.

"Do you like them?" he politely inquired. 

"They're delicious," I admitted. "Thanks."

"Mhm, you're welcome," he smugly replied, turning and walking away wih a flick of his tail. "I made them myself, after all, so they were bound to be delicious. Oh, and... I likely won't be seeing you again during your stay here, so if you see Hench before me, tell him to expect another courtship from Wokka Sv'talli once he returns to Castle Avalon."

My eyes popped open. "Wait, so, the pooka you like is--"

"Mhm," he confirmed, turning to give me a half-lidded look over his little shoulder. "I knew the moment I heard his name in your thoughts that you met him. It pleases me that you think the two of us are beautiful. I have business to attend to on Rahn's orders, so... good luck."

"Wait, so, I won't be seeing you again?" I asked, concerned. "Why?"

"I'll be busy cleaning up the city," he said, making a face. "I received a mental message from Rahn through his magic. He's asked all of the servants to go and help the nobles stop an enormous riot that's exploded in the city, most likely because of what Yuma said and what it did to you and your brother. Tears from children are rarely seen by anyone, and I don't think anyone, even fully grown fae, have cried like that since the war. Couple that with the fact that a father gave his own son severance right in front of them? Heh, you've basically lit a furious wildfire beneath Yuma's ass."

My blood ran a bit colder. "There's rioting happening in the city?"

"Mhm," he again confirmed, nodding his head, "and considering that things are being destroyed and fae are rampaging like enraged mammoths, demanding that Yuma be punished, I'll likely be busy with everyone else cleaning up the mess once it's over. You three will stay here while I'm out and about. Rahn should return soon with Anbi and Imhoek to take over my typical duties."

"Okay," I said, dazed. "Well... if I don't see you again before I leave... thanks, Wok, for everything. It's been really weird but kind of cool getting to know you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he laughed, flicking his tail. "I'll be taking my leave, then."

Without another word, he kicked the glamour door and a hole opened in the cavern. He scampered out of the room, leaving us alone with the trays filled with treats. I flopped back down, just trying to focus on breathing. 

Somehow, though, knowing that people were rioting on our behalf weirdly made me feel the slightest bit better. At the very least, it told me that we weren't the only ones who were angry about it.

Tomorrow, I vowed, closing my eyes. Tomorrow, I'm going to ask them to take away his magic just like Wok said I should. Tomorrow, I'm going to ask them to punish him by taking away the one thing he's been hurting people to improve. I'm going to take away what he's always wanted, and I'm going to watch his eyes as they do it, because at this point, he needs to suffer. He needs to suffer for real, and I'm going to do every last thing I can to make sure that happens.

I was going to hit him where it hurt most. 

Whatever else the other people decided to do, I couldn't care less, I wouldn't let myself... the only condition I wanted him to endure was losing access to using his magic, permanently. After the trial was over, he would never use magic again if I had anything to say about it.

Ever.

And that would be enough for me. 

"Tomorrow, then," I whispered, mouth trembling. "Tomorrow."

I could only hope I'd be capable of handling whatever tomorrow would bring.