To A New Year

Mythal still wasn’t okay by any sense of the word. The revelation that Branwen had been Shepard, had been one of Faera’s lackeys, for who-knows-how-long, was a constantly burning ember in the back of his mind. Branwen, who they hadn’t managed to get to come over and meet Alexia and Naomi due to how busy he was. Branwen, who had tried so hard to connect with him and balance him out only a few years ago… and then attempted to murder Gren and Vriko with a cowardly attack. It burned deep within him and while he knew better than to go on any kind of active hunt for the bastard, he sorely wanted to. Hell, even Vriko was ready to leap back into the fray, if only to cut his head off.

But sounder minds had calmed them down, to a point. So while he wasn’t happy, he had to accept that whatever confrontation with Branwen was coming would have to arrive in its own time. Though he held no love for any of Ozorith’s court, he was thankful for the one that had saved his sister and adoptive father. Ryori had cut off her tracking of Branwen to intervene and prohibit the sneak attack from coming to fruition. Whether it was some tactic to try and garner favor -- or, more realistically, favors -- didn’t matter at the moment. She had done what she had done and even the Darkness Slayer had to give her due appreciation, even if he hadn’t met the woman. Now with nowhere else to go, Gren and Vriko had been taken into their home. The raven haired woman had been a bit sore about the idea, as seemed to be her constant nature, but when provided the other options, she understood that Seri and Mythal’s place was the best bet. For the time, Gren would stay nearby, if only to keep her company. But she was beginning to grow into her own woman, who had surprisingly made a friend in Vandrad’s student Saffron.

But tonight wasn’t about all that, as much as Mythal wanted to ruminate on it. Christmas had been a nice distraction as well, allowing them the opportunity to spend time with the du Wolffs and the Sinclairs like two years prior. Everance had even pulled a neat trick and brought back the spirit that had been trapped in Vandrad’s head; the one that called himself Father Christmas. Mercury had, understandably, been very excited, even more so when Ever told them that she could extend his stay until New Year’s so they could have a full celebration with him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant was that good ol’ Saint Nick probably had himself a small harem of women wanting a piece of him for the time he was there. Vandrad had been grumpy about it but no more than he usually was; simply scoffing and rolling his eyes but not really showing much care. Vriko had opted not to join them that evening, finding no interest in partaking in a celebration that didn’t mean anything to her.

And truthfully, New Year’s was on the same level. But something had changed her mind, though she didn’t seem inclined to share what. They had idly put forth the offer and she had thought about it for a moment. But right about the time they expected her to shut it down, she agreed, lamenting that while the ‘whore’ would be there, she was genuinely curious to what these kinds of parties were. It helped that Seri and Mythal had explained that while the du Wolffs were a rowdy and… affectionate bunch, they were also respectful, especially of boundaries. So long as Vriko put her foot down, she wouldn’t have a problem… at least with Vandrad’s family. Mercury was always a wild card.

Mythal headed down the stairs, hearing the sounds of Alexia and Naomi giggling along with the sounds of Serilda chasing after them. Heading down the hallway, he found his fiance standing there with their daughters in each arm, tickling them and laughing herself. Despite the general displeasure of his demeanor lately, he still smiled genuinely at the sight of them, finding true happiness in his family in spite of the bullshit that was circling.

“Looks like the mommy monster got ya,” he spoke up as he walked over to them, leaning over the two wiggling kids to kiss Serilda gently. Then he turned his attention down to his daughters, smirking slightly. “And she’s holdin’ ya hostage for the daddy monster!” With that exclamation, he reached in and began to tickle the twins as well, causing them to erupt in manic laughter.

Steps from the hallway drew Mythal to turn and look and find Gren standing in the doorway, adjusting his tie. “Looks like gramps knows how to clean up,” he remarked to Serilda and the twins.

“Well, since I’ll be arm’n’arm with the host, I figured I should be at my best,” Gren said with a chuckle. “Plus I want to look all fancy for my adorable little rugrats,” he said as he walked up and kissed both Alexia and Naomi on the head.

“Ahem.”

The clearing of the throat would draw the attention of everyone to Vriko who had followed behind Gren but then paused at the doorway. Vriko had, surprisingly, made the effort to go out and pick out a dress herself. Despite having a very limited exposure to style, she and Serilda had spoken for a short time, with the Voidwalker offering her jewel and advice should she need it. Reluctantly she accepted the money but insisted that she go and pick out the dress, though she thanked Serilda for both offers equally. Since her arrival, her hostility towards the Field Marshall had been nonexistent, the raven-haired woman not always the most pleasant but nowhere near disrespectful. Having once more followed the fashion sense that came from idolizing Agatha in her own secret way, Vriko had scoured through several articles online and in magazines to find something fanciful. Once she had found it, she had gone out and found a cheaper knockoff, not wanting to spend exorbitant amounts of jewel that wasn’t her’s, despite the fact that Serilda and Mythal would not have minded. With the dress picked out, she had even gone to a salon and asked that they give her a rundown of how to apply make up.

Apparently the salon owners and employees had practically adopted her, much to her chagrin. They had given her a tutorial but insisted that she come in and let them gussy her up for the evening. So the Vriko that stood in the doorway was the result of that; a woman in a tight-fitting red dress that provided a squared off window of her bosom and a run that allowed her left leg to show far up on her thigh. She wore silver earrings and was painted with a dark purple lipstick and slight blush and eyeliner to make her crimson eyes pop. Her hair had even been straightened and teased to get a bit more body.

She stood there, with her hand on her hip, looking at the faces of everyone in the room. “So… it looks stupid, right?”

“Uh… no, not at all,” Mythal was the first to speak up. “You actually look… gorgeousl, Vriko.”

She frowned at him, her eyes narrowing. But despite the presence of blush make up, there was no hiding the slight tinge of color that applied itself to her cheeks. “Shut up. We’re not having a moment,” she insisted, glancing away briefly to collect herself before she looked over at Gren. “You getting married or something?”

“Not tonight,” Gren said with a grin.

“Of course not, too busy having so many whooo---” Vriko was about to, once again, lambaste the former Knight for his choices in his love life, but as she sounded out the ever-so-pleasant name, her eyes fell on the twins. Without much insistence from Mythal or Serilda, she had taken to trying to stop herself from using words around the toddlers that was probably inappropriate. Deciding to move forward rather than replace the word, she looked at Serilda. “You look… nice, Serilda. I don’t know much about fashion but uh… that… dress color really makes you… glow.”

“Well that’s about the nicest thing she’s ever said to anyone,” Mythal replied teasingly. “Look at her, gettin’ all soft.”

“Such a sweetheart,” Gren piled on.

Vriko rolled her eyes. “I’m already regretting this. Alright, let’s get this ridiculous mess done with before I change my mind.”

Vriko understood she was going to be teased by Mythal and Gren. Mostly because she hadn’t really gone out of her way to pay Serilda compliments. Sure, she was nice enough to the woman, if only out of respect. She didn’t really intend on getting buddy-buddy with anyone but the Field Marshall and the Director both seemed to have their own opinions on that matter, reacting and treating her all friendly like. So rather than be an utter bitch to the only people that she knew she would be comfortable around that evening, she decided to take a chance and say something nice for once. Serilda came to her defense, playfully chastising the boys for teaming up on her and then thanking her before also complimenting the gown, saying that she did a ‘phenomenal job’. Mythal’s sister could do nothing against the blush that touched her cheeks, the raven-haired woman looking away and rubbing her arm. “Sure, thanks,” she practically mumbled, having been complimented not once but twice. She wasn’t used to anyone saying nice things about her, save for Gren every so often. At least she had found a way to put up a brave front and rebuff him most times.

But she was proud of herself and frankly, she… appreciated the recognition. She had gone out of her way to take a chance on something she knew nothing about and had apparently kicked its ass. Granted the posse at the salon had told her that as well but stranger’s opinions meant so much less than someone who was, frankly, as regal as Serilda was. With farewells given to the girls by way of kisses from the other three, they were stepping through a portal and arriving on New Rhaegar. Vriko was, honestly, a bit surprised at the design of the island city. A lot of thought and care had been put into the set up, especially in terms of how to decorate for an extravaganza. The raven-haired woman took a few moments to look around, taking in her surroundings and, naturally, noting all of the important, tactical advantage points along the buildings.

By the time she had turned right around, she was face to face with Mercury and her father. She greeted the other two first before turning her gaze to the narrowed, hateful eyes of Vriko, raining flirtatious compliments down on her for her look and stating that it was good to see her again. “I’m sure it is,” she replied coolly, reining herself in, if only for the sake of not causing a scene. Her gaze flicked to Zemanar as he approached her, offering his hand. Glancing between the extended limb and his face, she listened as he introduced himself properly as Mercury’s father. “Her father?” she confirmed, chancing a look at Mercury briefly before finally reaching out and shaking his hand politely. “Vriko. Ragnos, according to official records, apparently.”

“Ah, you’re really not gonna let me live that down, are’ya?” Gren asked with a chuckle, laughing a bit more when she glanced at him. “Champagne sounds good but I gotta greet the host first,” he said, nodding to the approaching Vandrad and Themesycia. “Heya,” he cooed at the former duchess, returning her kiss in kind. Once she had finished greeting Serilda and Mythal, Themesycia turned to Vriko to introduce herself.

The first thing Vriko noticed was the pressure the woman gave off. She wasn’t using any magic but there was something about her presence that demanded respect, despite her rather casual demeanor. As Serilda summoned the tray of champagne to them, Vriko gave Themesycia a once over before finally settling her gaze evenly against Themmy’s. “Yes, Vriko. And I’ve heard… a lot of things,” Vriko replied, glancing at Gren. “I’ve heard you’re quite strong. Seeing you now, I can tell that is doing you a disservice. Out of respect, I wish to thank you for hosting us and inviting me. Normally I would have declined but I’ve put off meeting you for some time, if only because the whole threeway sex pact you have with Gren and the wh- Mercury utterly disgusts me.”

“Wait what..?” Mythal started to ask, having only gotten his flute of champagne.

“But since everyone else seems to be fine with it, I suppose I shouldn’t cast stones. I may not like it or even find it sanitary but it’s your lives. And since Gren is now my guardian, I should stop acting like a child and show you the respect of meeting you.”

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘threeway sex pact’?” Mythal asked.

Vriko glanced at him and then at Gren. “Does… he not know?”

Gren let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah uh… wasn’t… exactly sure how to bring that up… or anythin’...”

“Are you kidding me?!”
“Are you kidding me?!” Both Mythal and Vriko asked at the same time.

“That’s maybe the kind of thing ya let us know about, in case it, ya know, comes up,” Mythal insisted.

“You didn’t tell him? Or Serilda?” Vriko shook her head. “Did you think I would not bring it up? It is literally my main sticking point with her,” she said, gesturing to Mercury.

“I think we all need to just calm down and uh… have some more to drink, yeah? And maybe find another time to talk about this, possibly.”

Apparently she had unraveled a mystery that really shouldn’t have been a mystery.

Was it just easier to tell Vriko in comparison to Mythal and Serilda? She doubted that; she was judgemental and was quick to make snide remarks, example being her ‘pet’ name for Mercury. No, it was probably just having what he would probably consider a ‘safe’ outlet rather than having to own up to his bullshit with his adoptive son and soon to be daughter in law. For all the courage that Gren showed on a near daily basis, he could be a bit of a coward when it came to his family, it seemed. The former Knight tried to dismiss the entire conversation but Mercury reminded him that this was his fault for lacking to inform anyone. Her father looked just as shocked and she did her best to placate that by telling him to not think about it.

It was Themesycia that drew the attention back so that she could offer up an explanation, of sorts. It seemed that it wasn’t some kind of sex-fueled harem but rather a more solid, if still casual, relationship between the three. Her and Gren were dating and Mercury was occasionally a side piece for either one of them that came calling. She explained deeper that her people were genetically predisposed to more liberal sex practices both in and out of marriages. Her family continued to practice it, along with the rest of the Rhaegarians on the island, but they weren’t pressuring anyone into partaking and they did their best not to draw too much attention, if only to keep people from becoming uncomfortable. It was odd but all of them participated with the knowledge and consent of Vandrad, who spoke up enough to say that he didn’t really care who she slept with. He didn’t view his relationship with her as ownership but a partnership and the only thing he was meticulous on was her being clean. He truly didn’t seem bothered at all, far more focused on important things.

It was an odd first impression of the man, especially for someone that Saffron regarded with such high respect. He was strong as well; she could sense the magical strength brimming off of him. It seemed he was unbothered by his fiance’s and family’s interests; a separate force that went about his own business, which usually involved improving himself and his abilities. For the first time since Gren had opened his mouth and told her about having two women, Vriko… felt oddly at ease with it all. She still thought it was a bit gross but it seemed a lot deeper than just putrid, carnal deviancy. Plus it was hard to find something to hate in Themesycia, as much as she wanted to. And while she usually would have found colorful words to call Vandrad for essentially making himself a cuckold, he didn’t seem to resonate with that energy. Honestly, knowing that he didn’t view Mercury as property was strangely satisfying on a certain level.

With the explanation cleared out, Vandrad insisted they move on, demanding Mercury kiss Gren like she clearly wanted to and allow them to go about the island. Serilda was… amused, in a way. It seemed that Mercury hadn’t exactly been coy about how she felt about Gren; they just hadn’t taken it seriously. But rather than linger, the Voidwalker insisted they go forth and find her brother and another woman named Cecilia.

“Jeez, ya die for a couple of years and now yer beddin’ women left and right,” Mythal remarked at Gren as they began their walk over.

Vriko’s eyes widened a bit. She had forgotten that he’d been murdered by Faera and brought back. The kind of punishment he had gone through in Kingdom Darkness lacked definition but the raven-haired woman certainly had imagination enough to wonder. She looked away slightly, now a bit embarrassed. She’d been harassing him, forgetting that he had suffered at Faera’s hands as well, and giving him a hard time when he was probably just trying to readjust to living again. Worse yet is she actually felt bad about it -- a new sensation she hadn’t quite gotten used to.

“Hah… sorry ‘bout that, Mythal. Wasn’t exactly how I was hopin’ to break the news…”

“It’s fine,” the Darkness Slayer waved him off. “Really, as long as yer happy, that’s all that matters. Just makin’ up for lost time, right?” he said with a wry smirk, elbowing the former Knight in the ribs teasingly.

Now humbled by… everyone’s words, Vriko was rather silent as they approached Solomon and Cecilia, playing with some of the smaller fireworks that the Rhaegarians and Xocili had been gifted. “Solomon is Seri’s younger brother,” Mythal leaned over to Vriko, explaining a bit more. “He’s datin’ Cecilia, which is Vandrad’s cousin.” She was introduced to them one after the other, Vriko cordial enough and reserved. She was shaking a lot of hands as the du Wolffs came by one after the other, each one taking the time to provide their name and speak kindly to her. It was… rather overwhelming. The only one that hadn’t come out to introduce herself was Ophelia but that was because she had, apparently, taken to a room with a Xocili that she’d been talking to.

Vriko stood around as the others took up sparklers and played around, really only attended to by Vandrad, who had a sparkler but saw no reason to prance around. Once Serilda’s had run out, she rummaged through the boxes and found a specific firework that caught her interest. Solomon cheekily explained that they weren’t illegal across the board and asked that she not tell their parents. Finding more amusement than anything else, she insisted she was taking the one she had pulled out and then waved to Vriko. The raven-haired woman looked surprised but, after a moment of consideration, placed her sparkler in the crease of Vandrad’s arm and walked over to her as she walked to a fairly open spot. Serilda explained that in most circumstances, she would have to fine people for the firework but as they weren’t within her realm of policing, she wanted to know if she wanted to try it out.

“Uh…” Vriko fumbled for words for a moment. “Sure?” It seemed rude to turn it down. With that confirmation out of the way, she waited until it had been freed from its plastic covering and then took it when it was offered. Serilda showed her where the wick was and then gave her a rundown of what one should normally do with the explosive device and then what was far more fun. Now with the firework and the lighter in hand, Vriko glanced at Serilda once more and then took up what she felt was the best position. Angling it away from her and towards the sky, she flicked the lighter so that the flame popped out onto the wick. Sparks began to immediately fly and cascade down all around her feet, much to her wide-eyed surprise. She considered putting it down and taking the safe way but held out, squeezing the firework tight until the sparks disappeared inside the tube. The firework exploded out from the top, a shrill screech ripping through the air repeatedly as it released its colorful, sparkling payload into the sky above. It was a pain in the ears but… it was pretty damn pretty, she had to admit.

She waited until it was spent and then carefully put the smoking tube on the ground. “That was… fun,” she said softly. “That and seeing a Rune Knight break a law.”

“Someone say something about breaking laws?” Another feminine voice pulled Vriko’s attention to it. A woman with black and turquoise hair was walking towards them, dressed in a loose, flowy halter top and a skirt that had glowing lights wrapped around her hips. “Seri, always great to see you. That dress looks gorg on you. And this is Vriko, right? Damn if you ain’t good looking. No surprise there. I’m Ophelia, Cecilia’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you. You… look nothing like Cecilia,” Vriko observed.

“Well I did before I colored my hair. Hey Uncle Gren!” she said, waving to the former Knight.

“I see you’ve met Ophelia. Finally decided to come over?” Mythal spoke up as he approached, offering Serilda and Vriko new, filled glasses of champagne.

“Well I’d bring the boy toy over but I think he’s still trying to catch his breath,” Ophelia said with a smirk. “How about you and Serilda for round two?”

“Gonna… have to pass on that, thanks though,” Mythal replied with a short laugh.

“I’ll wear you down someday, handsome. If only to say I bagged you and Seri before Mercury. I’m going to go say hi to Aunty Themmy.” And off she went to join Themescyia and Gren.

“Rhaegarians, huh?” Mythal asked with a small laugh.

Of course Mercury was quick, once she had come over to Mythal, to ask about Quentin, calling him her ghost lover. She apparently was working on something so that she could see him without any kind of enchantments but it had been put on hold until everything with Maker was dealt with. “Ah, he’s around,” the Director stated, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder.  He cocked his head slightly as if he was listening before shaking it. “I’m not going to tell her that. He said he… greatly looks forward to gettin’ a chance to talk wit’ ya at some point. You can use your imagination to guess what other colorful things he said.”

As Vriko was led over to view the fireworks, the Silver Wolf mage brought up Seri and Vriko’s semi-neutral relationship and Saffron managing to earn some kind of friendly feeling from his sister. “Yeah, she’s been less hostile with Seri lately. I think after everythin’, she’s just satisfied to have a stable foundation. Not sure if I would call Saffron a stable foundation, as she is a firecracker, but she really took to her. As for me and her… well, she’s less hostile. And a bit reined in, if only for the twin’s sake. But she does talk to me, at least enough to pass the time. I dunno, it’s somethin’. So long as she feels comfortable, I guess that’s all that matters to me. I ain’t gonna ask for anythin’ more.”

Whether it was breaking the law or not, there was no denying that it was amusing to see the normally rigid Field Marshal of the Rune Knights be willing to bend the rules a little, even if it wasn’t strictly illegal. Vriko shot her a look, spotting the mischievous glimmer in the Voidwalker’s gaze and snorted softly in her own amusement, barely suppressing a small smirk to match the white-haired woman’s. A moment later, a new voice joined the fray and a woman wandered over, introducing herself as Ophelia, the vastly different sister of Cecilia, to which Vriko observed out loud. Mythal wandered over a moment later, passing glasses of champagne to Serilda and Vriko to make up for the absence of their empty ones.

Ophelia was about as bold as Mercury was, asking both Serilda and Mythal if they wanted to take up the place of the man that she had just spent a decent amount of time with. Mythal turned down the offer and Ophelia insisted that she would find a way to break down their walls, if only to say that she beat Mercury. The whore heard her name and the suggestion of the younger woman and spoke up, insisting that she was at the front of the line, to which Serilda reminded her that Agatha and Ruzatz were definitely ahead of her. She remarked about being able to take them, though it seemed she wasn’t that confident in that and Mythal, almost defeatedly, commented on the race and their… provocations. Serilda agreed, admitting that she hadn’t quite figured out how, in a span of four years, they had made friends that were far more open and rigorously sexual than they were. Her younger self, it seemed, would have been mortified. “It’s outrageous,” Vriko commented with a small scoff. “I met Agatha and Ruzatz during that ridiculous heist. The man is a lot but she was…” she drifted off slightly, her gaze staring off into the distance before she refocused. “For one so kind and gentle, it’s surprising to see her connection to him. It was a bit humbling. All of it was. But her most of all.”

That’s all she seemed inclined to share about it. “But from Gren has told me, it seems Rhaegarians are born like this, highly sexual and deviant. Yet it doesn’t seem to impact their ability to prosper and advance. It’s honestly a bit… impressive. Though I do wonder why he seems separate from the rest,” Vriko pointed out Vandrad with a nod of her head.

“Vandrad is part human. It’s possible his human genes overwrote some of Rhaegarian ones,” Mythal said with a shrug.

“Doubtful, else he wouldn’t be willing to put up with her,” Vriko commented as she flicked her gaze to Mercury. Already the whore was pulling her fiance over to an open space, having summoned forth some kind of speaker and playing a lively jig.

“I know ya ain’t a fan of her, Vriko, but she does mean well. She’s been through a lot. Ya might  be surprised if ya just ask her,” Mythal told his sister, his tone soft and endearing. “Plus it’s not all her fault. Her nature was expanded upon by the du Wolffs. It’s remarkable any of us have resisted.” With a small snort, he turned his attention fully to Vriko. “Ya made a big move tonight. Not a lotta people are always willin’ to step out of their comfort zone like you did. And speaking of steppin’ out of comfort zones, I should probably do the same. Alright, Seri, let’s get movin’,” Mythal said, offering his hand to Serilda. It was not often that Mythal went out of his way to do such things, especially when it came to dancing, but it seemed he was feeling… confident. Maybe it was just wanting to do something outrageous to counter all the negativity that had been surrounding him but whatever the case, he was ready to go out and make a fool of himself.

Serilda downed the entirety of her flute like a pro, impressing even Vriko. Then she allowed herself to be led over to join the others dancing. Vriko shook her head softly, amused in her own way as she watched the pairs forming. She was quite aware of Zemenar’s approach, turning her crimson gaze to meet him as he came before her. She imagined he was coming over to say something or ask something concerning the… tumultuous relationship between herself and Mercury. Imagine her surprise when he offered to dance with her, admitting he was a bit rusty but more than willing, maybe even genuinely pleased, to partner with her. It was… odd. In any other case, for any other person, she may have shot them down immediately and told them to screw off. There was a sort of… forlorn kindness to the older Xocili, his intent meant well and without any kind of motive behind it. Vriko knew just enough to understand that the Xocili had been oppressed and abused, a treatment she understood very well. Yet here he was, lacking bitterness.

Perhaps she really was too hard on others. Damn Gren and his empathy; a disease she neither wanted or needed. But it was far too late. She was infected and it seemed it had already begun to spread. “Hell, why not,” she said with a shrug. And then taking after her future sister-in-law, she downed the entire flute of champagne. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’m in worse shape than you; I don’t even know how to dance,” she commented as she placed her flute down and then took his offered arm.

Zemenar was, unsurprisingly, a perfect gentleman. He held her appropriately and even guided her in how to move. Luckily, the training of an assassin proved to be an expansive education, as it taught her body how to move in perfect coordination. After only a half a minute of observing his instructions and the others around them, she was able to adjust and find a rhythm, showcasing a moderate understanding but better than most would be in such little time. Whatever was happening with the inclusion of new music didn’t seem to interest Vriko, who settled her gaze on Zemenar curiously. “Zemenar,” she started, her gaze flicking away momentarily before resetting. “I… don’t know much about your people’s struggles. Gren has told me a bit but…” She paused, wondering how she should approach the topic. Normally she would just blurt out her questions and comments without thought but even she understood that she was treading on careful ground. “Could you… tell me about the Xocili? I would like to know more.”

While that was happening, Mythal was watching the scene unfold as a band arrived to take part in Mercury’s music. From the look of it, Mercury and Vandrad didn’t know they were coming and soon enough Themesycia was explaining what she had arranged. She name-dropped a man, Faren Laenar and Serilda spoke up, surprised. “I’m gonna guess that’s some kind of Bellum noble family? Musta been friends with Vandrad and them…”

“That’s right, I do remember that,” Mythal said with a small nod. Vandrad had been quite upfront about his trauma when they met all those years ago.

At least it made more sense, even to Vriko. If he had truly gone through a troublesome upbringing, it would explain why he seemed so drastically different from the rest of his family. But that begged the question; what had he suffered and at whose hands? The raven haired woman changed a glance over at Vandrad curiously. There didn’t seem to be anyone in particular that he was outspoken against. In fact, he seemed quite close to his family. So there the mystery continued to grow and remain unsolved.

Eventually she found herself dancing with Zemenar, having found his genuine empathy honest enough to allow herself to go with him. And while she had him there, a standing point of information about Mercury and her people, the raven-haired woman took the chance to ask him, wanting to learn a bit more. While one might find that confusing, especially given her disdain for the Silver Wolf mage, she believed it would, perhaps, help her understand the woman more. Zemenar thought for a moment before speaking up, starting with the obvious assumption that she was aware of their extraterrestrial origin, to which she nodded. He continued, explaining that they were a miracle of nature; somehow both synthetic and organic all at the same time. They had evolved past war and strife and all lived in peace and prosperity, advancing their own explorations and discoveries to new heights.

But all good things come to an end and the Nazru, a fanatical group of aliens on par with religious zealots, discovered them. Worshiping natural evolution and despising technology, they found themselves at odds with one another over the existence of the Xocili. They invaded the planet, slowly wearing down the local military for nearly a decade before the Xocili were forced to flee, leaving their planet to be annihilated. The survivors were tracked down by the determined Nazru but before they could be wiped out completely, a group of Nazru ordered them captured and enslaved, seeking to use the Xocili as tools of their fanatical campaign. It would help them make their own discoveries over their existence and how they can better destroy the synthetic creations of the universe. Zemenar was one of the survivors, along with his wife and son. His wife was sent away on a different ship, separating the family while the mother was pregnant with Mercury. During their time separated, Scylla had died and it had been assumed that Mercury had perished as well. But instead, she had been taken in among other children to be trained as spies and assassins, sent out to other worlds to scout it for weaknesses so that the Nazru could begin proper invasion plans.

But upon coming to Earthland, she had grown attached to Vandrad and others on the world. Rather than obey, she went against her orders and was taken in for punishment, specifically at the hands of her unknowing father. But once he had realized who she was, he had freed her and soon enough, many of the people that were attending the party had tracked down the location and helped save them all from certain destruction. And in a powerful and destructive display of magic, Serilda and Vandrad had wiped the Nazru from existence. He chuckled softly and admitted that it wasn’t a happy tale and hoped it hadn’t brought her down any but it seemed he genuinely appreciated the interest.

Vriko, for her own sake, was… quite shaken, though she did her best to hide it. It was a lot to take in and somehow oddly reflective to what she had experienced, at a grander scale. An entire people enslaved and treated as tools, trained as thoughtless weapons; it was something she knew so well, it almost made her sick. And through it all, somehow, Mercury had come out the other side with a fiance, friends and family that loved and cared for her and a life she had taken back for herself. It was an odd feeling, the mixture of respect and hate that she had for the Silver Wolf mage. For all of the freedom she afforded now, it had almost all been given to her. That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t thankful to Gren and even to Mythal and Serilda. But her and Mercury had grown up in similar situations and when the point had come to break, they had gone off in different directions.

And worse yet was the fact that Vriko, herself, had chosen the worser path. It made her feel ungodly levels of embarrassment and shame. “N-No, it’s fine. I’m… glad to know more,” she managed to get out. “Can you… excuse me for a moment? I just need a minute.” She did her best to politely excuse herself, gently removing herself from his hold and walking away from the rest of the group. Once she was out of eyesight, she fell backfirst against the wall, staring up at the sky and taking in deep breaths. All of the the panic and shame was ripping through her veins all at once, causing her heart and head to pound. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes and finding the center within herself. She was no longer a weapon. She was her own person. She had made mistakes. All she could do was move forward. Learn from where you fall, that’s what Serathar used to say.

Despite a small pang of sadness that ran through her at the memory of her fallen benefactor, she had regained some solid ground emotionally. Clearing her throat, she came back around from the wall and rejoined the group, still as stoic as ever. She even went out of her way to ask Zemenar to pick up where they left off, not wanting to dismiss him so rudely because of such a mild thing as a panic attack. While Mercury ran off to meet the approaching live band, Vriko’s gaze flicked to her momentarily before she shook off any other notions.

Soon enough, midnight had approached. Several couples all around them celebrated with a kiss. While she was not at all comfortable with making out with Mercury’s father, she could already hear the comments, she did lean up to give him a kiss on the cheek and thank him for keeping her company while the ‘frivolous lovers’ swapped spit. The sky was alight with colorful magic, the fireworks filling the dark sky with vibrant displays of celebratory hues. Yet even over all of that, there was a new sound of excitement that drew the attention of nearly everyone around. Just as midnight had struck, Cecilia had, naturally, turned to kiss Solomon but found him not standing there but rather down on one knee. Though lacking eyesight, she still could ‘see’ him through her magic nearly as well as real vision and she inhaled sharply as she ‘looked over’ the ring that was now being presented to her.

She covered her mouth gently with her hands as he spoke of what he saw for his, their, future. She was everything to him and he refused to let another year go by without solidifying how much he cared for her. As he asked her to marry him, she sputtered out a laugh, the twin practically glowing with excitement. “Yes! Of course!” she barely waited for him to finish before giving him her answer. She’d hold out her hand for him to put the ring on and then all but drag him to his feet so that she could kiss him deeply. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight to her even as she pulled her mouth from his. “I know we’re waiting but you’re in for a very good night, buster,” she teased him gently.

As Cecilia turned to everyone gathered around and began showing off the ring and heightening the excitement, Vriko stood watching nearby. She’d listened in as Solomon had spoken on what New Years meant, watched as a literal cornucopia of people had immersed themselves in the celebratory aftermath of the proposal. It was oddly… satisfying. And the way he had spoken about the day and the glory of what the turning of the year meant… Given everything she had learned, heard and partaken in that night, Vriko was feeling whimsical, at least as much as she was capable. Glancing over at Gren and Themesycia, who were letting the rest of the family congratulate the engaged couple first before moving in, Vriko snorted softly and then approached. “Fine,” she said as she stopped before him.

“Fine?” Gren repeated, blinking at her in confusion.

“You’re already my damn guardian, which is all but a father without the bullshit. So fine; let’s just make the damn thing official. I’ll sign those adoption papers when we get back and we can just… be done with this.”

Shock could not begin to describe the look on Gren and Themesycia’s faces. “Wait… really?” he asked.

Vriko scoffed. “I know you’re old but I didn’t think you were hard of hearing. Yes, I’ll be your stupid adopted daughter or whatever. Might as well; I’m guilty by association with that one anyways,” she said, nodding to Mythal. After a moment she sighed and looked back up at him. “You’ve gone through a lot for me. And I have not made it easy to deal with. You’ve been kind, gentle and caring, more of a father to me than the bastard that sired me and in a fraction of the time. And if people can turn their lives around, even after so much trouble…” she remarked, glancing at Mercury before resettling her gaze. “Then I can too.”

Gren was already pretty excited over Cecilia and Solomon but this was getting too much. The former Knight was on the verge of tears, his emotions worn on his sleeve and making his eyes all misty. “Vriko…” he started, his voice rife with emotion.

“No. No emotional display. I don’t want to… I don’t know, stomp all over their celebration or whatever. So just keep a leash on it, old man. And don’t even think about hug--” But unfortunately she wouldn’t be able to stop him, even if she had gotten the words out. Gren had moved forward and had pulled her into a tight hug almost instantly, lifting her from the ground and embracing her to him. For a quick moment, anger flashed across her face, if only because he’d done exactly what she was trying to tell him not to. But after a moment, and with a disgusted sigh, she just let him get it out, patting him on his shoulders with both hands.

Ah well, it wasn’t the worst thing, right?

It had been quite an exciting night. Cecilia and Solomon had gotten engaged, officially linking two of the more influential families in Ishgar. Vriko had apparently agreed to go through with the adoption, making herself Gren’s second child and first adopted daughter. And they had even met one of Vandrad’s oldest, if not the oldest, friends, Faren, who was a ball of charm and entertainment. Though he spent most of the evening huddled with Mercury and swapping stories, he did come over and officially present himself to everyone present, wanting to make sure he met everyone he could. He was quite delighted to meet Serilda, having heard plenty of wonderful things about the Sinclairs and offering up colorful compliments about her that even made Mythal feel a little charmed. The rest of the evening was winding down, with Faren insisting that he and Mercury had arranged a real first date so they could get to know one another, stating that he had thought to steal her for the rest of the evening but graciously wanted the engaged couple to celebrate the new year appropriately. Both of them happily gave Vandrad a look that spelled trouble. With most of the festivities all settled, it was about time that Mythal, Serilda and Vriko head back home. Gren elected to stay with Themesycia, leaving the three of them to venture home through one of Serilda’s portals.

Vriko was, honestly, pretty beat. The evening had presented the most interaction with several people perhaps in her entire life. She was pretty drained and tired but still in a relatively good mood. It hadn’t been the worst thing; no one had tried to talk her into anything disgusting and she had learned a bit about herself and the who-... Mercury. It didn’t seem right to simply title her as a whore anymore. While she certainly was still a slut, whore just felt… wrong. The Silver Wolf mage had gone through a lot, evolved past traumas and horrible upbringings and was simply enjoying her life as she saw fit. Though Vriko would never sink to that level, she… understood it to a point. Mercury had earned a little respect, most likely without knowing. Vriko wasn’t inclined to go out of her way to say anything to the Xocili woman but she would, at least, not immediately dismiss her out of conversation or interaction. She’d just shut her down if she tried to insinuate anything or try to seduce her or anything gross.

Not that Mercury wasn’t pretty; Vriko was observant enough of that. But strangely, and perhaps this was a side effect of being around so many new people, the raven-haired woman had begun to see people in new lights. She was quick to blame Agatha and Ruzatz, the pair having opened her closed off heart and other body parts enough that the infection of curiosity had slipped in. She’d never considered sex before, on any level. She seemed to see men and women the same but she didn’t really know much about them. Her education had been… minimal, at best. Maybe it would help if she educated herself? Something to ponder over. She certainly wasn’t ready to ask anyone about it, though Serilda may be a good sounding board at some point. Saffron too, though Vriko was still only getting to know the blonde bombshell.

As they arrived back at Serilda and Mythal’s home, it seemed that Vriko had a lot to think on, despite how tired she was. “Well, that wasn’t the worst,” she commented idly as she continued walking towards the main hall. “Night,” she gave the other two a dismissive half-wave.

“Hey, one sec Vriko,” Mythal spoke up, catching her off guard and bringing her to a halt. “We uh… have somethin’ for ya.”

“Oh come on, you’re not gonna give me a ‘sister-adoption’ paper too, are you?” she asked, scoffing slightly.

Mythal chuckled. “Nah, nothin’ like that. It’s somethin’ we’ve wanted to give ya for some time but couldn’t really… find the time for it,” Mythal said, looking at Serilda briefly before back at Vriko. “C’mon, we keep it in the office.”

She stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes. “Alright, let’s get this over with then. I’m tired and need to get some sleep if I’m going to get any training done tomorrow.”

Vriko wasn’t really sure what to expect. As far as she knew, New Year’s wasn’t the time to provide gifts, merely a hapless celebration. She followed the two Rune Knights curiously, her face etched in suspicious interest. They walked into the office space and Serilda continued forward towards where the fireplace was. There were a fair number of items on the mantelpiece above the fire setting, things that she had seen and noted plenty of times with general disinterest. But now Serilda approached it and picked up a vase that had sat upon the shelf for some time. An ‘S’ had been carved into it and a small pendant hung down from the neck of the piece.

Vriko glanced over at Mythal as Serilda came back over and then refocused on Serilda. Immediately her world came to a standstill when she heard the name Serethar and, suddenly, it all made sense. When they had asked about him when she was still in prison, Vriko had been belligerently dismissive of any kind of physical memoriam for him. But it seemed that both Serilda and Mythal had felt it wouldn’t be right to just dismiss the remains without some kind of honor, an inelegant disposal seeming wrong. Without any forethought to where they were now, they had prepared an urn for what little remained of Serethar. Vriko could only stare at the former mantelpiece in silence, eyes wide as plates and her ruby gaze as dilated as they could physically be. As Serilda offered the urn to her, she found herself hesitant, her body instinctively trying to repel her backwards in denial. She even took a small step backwards but that was all. Somehow, something kept her from fully retreating. That damn infection again, it seemed.

Standing in place for a long moment, she finally pushed herself back to where she had been before and finally reached out to take the urn in her hands. She continued to stare at it, even as Serilda explained that it held Serethar’s ashes and that what happened to them was up to her. She seemed lost in a haze as Serilda spoke of the many different things people did with ashes, or at least normal people did. They also put a few of his ashes within the necklace that was around the urn so that she could have a piece of him with her, if she wanted to wear it. She had even gone a step further, having spoken to her father and agreed that they could craft and place a tombstone within her family’s property in Clover Town. It wasn’t anything she needed to decide upon immediately but Serilda was simply giving her options.

Vriko was silent for a long, long while. How many minutes would be hard to tell. Finally, after a decent chunk of silence, she let out a noise that sounded like a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. “I’ve never… thought about what happens to people or things or whatever after they’re gone. It wasn’t my job or place to think about it. End their life and move on. Serethar himself was one of the loudest voices when it came to that lesson. For a long time, I thought it was because he wanted me to be the best weapon I could be. But…” she trailed off softly, simply staring at the urn. “When he came to save me, it made no sense. He was under orders from Faera to follow whatever Archimedes chose. And while that prick’s choices only wound up in his dying, Serethar would have seen it through. I was… I didn’t get it. Swooping in to grab me and flee. And he never gave me a real answer, you know?” She finally looked up, glancing between Serilda and Mythal. “I just… ignored it. Embraced my survival and made plans to rid myself of my enemies, including you two.”

“It never occurred to me that maybe he saw me as more than a weapon. Compared to everyone else, he was the only one that spoke to me as if I was a person, if only in brief moments. Maybe he was trying to keep me from realizing what I was doing. But even then, he was willing to kill you two just to protect me. And then he was gone.”

Slowly her arms wrapped around the urn, hugging it close to her chest. “I never fully understood the idea of friendship. Now that I’ve been exposed to it, I guess he really was my first and only friend for a long time. I didn’t know how to deal with his death so I just pushed it down, tried to bury it in places where I didn’t have to face it. Honestly this is a really shitty gift, making me have to realize what he was and how I’ve acted.” It wasn’t the most pleasant thing to say but it would be her tone that betrayed the sharpness of her words. It was rife with sadness and guilt, a woman coming to grips with the mistakes she had made. She could feel the tears trying to rise to the surface and while she tried to push it down, her defenses were faltering at every turn. “I wish you hadn’t kept them. Then at least I could keep pretending that I don’t care that he’s dead.”

And then the levies gave. She had done everything in her power to avoid acknowledging his death, let alone saying it out loud. All of a sudden she felt like she was standing back at that ridiculous entertainment hall, listening to Agatha swing her solemn, soulful song that had struck a deep chord within her. Tears fell hard and fast and Vriko slid down onto her knees, still holding the urn against her body, as she wept in full. She felt ridiculous for the second time that evening, having an emotional episode that she usually could keep under control. Worse yet was that she was having it in front of people. But she had no footing to stop herself, no ability to put a stop to the tears.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and just barely out of her peripheral, she could see Mythal, kneeling down beside her. Somehow he could sense that hugging her would be far too much but leaving her to cry without action was equally as intolerable. It made her sob worse, the raven-haired woman burying her face downward practically into the urn as she wept openly. Things had been so much easier when they were all enemies, trying to kill one another…

But it wasn’t better. As much as she hated to admit it, only to herself, this was better. Because this is what it was like to have family.