The Unseelie Host

[Paroxysm]

The raising of Zin-Elentari was an act of unparalleled strength, skill, and knowledge; and, Pendaran thought, it was also the single most taxing thing he had ever done. The ocean was not one to give up her treasures easily, but, in the end, even it could not deny the Unseelie king's claim on its icy depths, or what lay in them.

Zin-Elentari belonged to the Unseelie.

The Winter fae sagged down onto the monstrous working of ice and stone that comprised his throne. To the untrained eye, he looked the same as ever, powerful and handsome, but to those few who truly knew him, it would be readily apparent that he was falling apart at the seams.

That was, of course, to be expected: Pendaran had held nothing back in order to accomplish his goal. He had given a portion of himself to a mortal, dealt with her politically backward family, wed the heiress apparent of the Summer court, and destroyed the barrier separating his people from the Seelie and mortal folk.

Then he raised a sunken city.

It had been a busy year, but there was still so much more to do before he could rest and recuperate. The Seelie were, without a doubt, already preparing for war, and Pendaran and his Unseelie would need to meet them, sword for sword. They had their foothold now, though, and Pendaran would ensure Mab paid dearly for any attempt she made against his people.

The Unseelie king clasped his hands and laid them flat across his stomach while he listened to the low thrum in the air. One of the first things he had done when the city was raised was superimpose a piece of his realm, the Unseelie realm, over Zin-Elentari, creating a blend of the Fae world and the city. This made logistics simple. He could use what was already in place in his world proper to quickly field, organize, supply, and staff his army about the city and its waters without actually alerting the mortals to their presence. Most would still see the city, of course, but only the most gifted would see the army occupying it, or the beasts and spirits infesting its waters or flying in its skies.

Zin-Elentari was a nightmare of a fortification.

And that meant Pendaran could focus on expansion, on increasing his territory and influence in the mortal world.
The elder sidhe felt his expression twist from the tired, bleak expression he had been wearing until it became a sharp, thin smile: He knew the perfect target.

[Sebilla]

“You’re tired.” It wasn’t an accusation or an amusement. Sebilla walked to King Pendaran with a quiet grace that she’d had since she was a young child. That much Pendaran hadn’t given her. She wore a pale blue gown, the color of icebergs in frozen waters. She sparkled in places with what looked like gems, but there were none – only ice. A net held back her long black hair with a fine silver mesh, letting only a few loose pieces brush against her gently angled face.

Sebilla was a bond between worlds, the very thing that Pendaran wanted to exist to make peace or war, an ambassador of sorts to the human world. Her sky blue eyes sparkled as she neared him. She had nothing to say other than being a presence in his throne-room. She approached him and stood next to his throne, her gown swishing gently as she took her place, arms crossed with fingers interlaced over her belly.

“Your wife, my aunt, is giving birth to Morgana. I was sent to inform you as it appears the court thinks that I am your pet.” There was a hint of amusement at the end of Sebilla’s short speech. Pendaran had made her what she was, though she still kept her abilities from her human side. She stood with gentle grace next to Pendaran and didn’t look at him. There was a respect for him that came from being disintegrated into particles and being rebuilt on a molecular level. Pendaran knew everything about her, how it fit together, and how to pull a single cord in order to unravel it all again.

“What is it that you wish to do now, my King?” Sebilla looked at him then, her eyes almost matching the shade of her dress. To her this world wasn’t cold. Her skin was normally as cold as ice itself, though she was obviously alive and not dead. Pendaran knew, just as she did, that despite his many strides in the direction of greatness – he still had several hurdles to overcome to attain his goals. She blinked at him without a sense of urgency, simply waiting for what he had to say.

Sebilla wasn’t a creature made to attend to the comforts of man, and so she didn’t flag down any servants to offer the King a drink or food of any kind. She was confident that, should the king desire any of these, the servants would flock to him.

It was not her place to presume anything in the presence of the King.

[Paroxysm]

Drawn from his reverie, Pendaran regarded Sebilla coolly, sternly, but after a short moment, his expression softened and he gestured with his hand in acknowledgement.

“And you have a way with words,” he said, amused. “Blunt. I like that--and yes, I am.”

It was rare for someone in his court to speak so openly to him, without honorifics or posturing, but Pendaran supposed that was some of the not-so-human-anymore woman’s charm. There was little point in denying her statement anyways, at any rate. Few had the insight necessary to know of Pendaran’s dwindling reserves, but Sebilla numbered among them.

The Unseelie king smiled, “It’s just easier to see your collar than it is to see their own,” he confided, “but make no mistake, you all belong to me.”

Pendaran made no attempt to hide his confidence in that statement, and nor did he slip even the smallest amount of jest into his tone. It was by his effort and sacrifice that the sidhe nobility had come this far; and it was his power holding Sebilla together even now.

"What to do indeed," he mused. "What do you recommend, Ambassador?"

[Sebilla]

Sebilla glanced at the ground for a moment, her thoughts taking her far from where they spoke, though she sharpened her gaze on the King when he asked her a simple question.

“With the birth of the heir of Summer you will be free to beget an heir of Winter. When things are mended it would be an interesting situation if these heirs were to mingle, neither really knowing the other. It has happened in my family for several generations. My Uncle Thorin and Aunt Igraine are but a pair of pawns in the greater scheme of affairs within the Xanathi clan.” Sebilla clasped her hands behind her back before turning slight, pivoting her body toward the King. It was a simple suggestion, not exactly what one might expect from the otherwise docile Sebilla Xanathi.

“You need to gather your strength. Allow your generals to oversee the training of the Sidhe. If you spread yourself thin you will fail. I have met Mab, Queen of the Seelie. She is old and she is dying which is why she has need of my Aunt. Your marriage to my Aunt has posed quite a dilemma for the old Woman. If she dies before you are cast off you will become, by default, the King of the Seelie through your loving wife. Your tie to your wife will be cemented through your mutual heir. Politics, you see, though Morgana stands in line to succeed her mother, a child through you would be next in line, regardless. Think on it.”

Was it treason to suggest such things to the Unseelie King? Perhaps, but then who had really spent time with Sebilla Xanathi other than Trydian, her beloved brother who had – as everyone else – deserted her. Family, especially Xanathi family, was held together by a loose thread of incest and defiance. It was time for someone with half a brain to stand up and pick a side. Sebilla Xanathi choose Pendaran because he had managed to slip a simple leash around her neck and pulled it tight. He owned her in ways that her family could never imagine.

Sebilla was Pendaran’s creation, part of his essence resided in her – deep in her chest – creating an icy barrier between her once warm feelings toward family and her new outlook on life.

“Your thoughts, my King?”

[Paroxysm]

Pendaran raised an eyebrow, "Yes," he said, his eyes narrowed, "I know of the Xanathi's attraction with one another. I've mocked it a handful of times, in fact; are you trying to secure a permanent position in my court, Ambassador?"

By necessity, Pendaran was a suspicious old sidhe; after all, the Unseelie were a manipulative, favor currying bunch--and those who trusted too easily did not last long amongst them.

“Hh,” he breathed.

“I should count myself fortunate, I suppose, “Pendaran noted somewhat cheerfully: “She could have demanded a matrilineal marriage. Still, you should think carefully before you involve yourself too deeply in my affairs, girl, “he warned, “you have no stake in mine and Mab’s game as of yet, but that remains only so long as you don’t pick a side.”

Pendaran smoothed his face into a perfect, blank mask.

“Did you know your brother found a way out of his contract?” He asked. “I believe he is holding out in former Yuurei territory now.”

[Sebilla]

“I’m not looking for a position in any court, simply making some observations out loud.” Sebilla glanced down at where the King was seated and shifted her feet slightly. “You are very lucky she didn’t demand a matrilineal heritage for any future children you may have. She was born into one.”

Sebilla moved down off the dais holding the King’s chair, twitching her skirts around her as she turned her head to the side to better hear his thoughts about her brother Trydian. She cracked a smile but quickly hid it as she looked up at the King.

“Trydian can’t have done it on his own. He’s smart but he’s better with his sword skills. I see things in my dreams and when I meditate, though I hadn’t determined where he was holding up. Strange that he would find what he deems to be his saving grace in a place once held by the very creatures that tried to kill our mother.” Sebilla’s voice was calm, collected, thoughtful. She looked into Pendaran’s eyes briefly before turning to leave.

“It would seem that I must inform my brother that his Aunt has given birth to his brother’s child. I will do so carefully so as not to breach my neutrality, as it were.” Breaching that neutrality was her death sentence. That wasn’t to say that Sebilla couldn’t get involved in the affairs as she saw them, but she had to be careful in how they spun into the greater fabric of the whole event that would unfold. As she saw it currently, only Trydian was involved with the current Seelie and Unseelie issues, and he was disassociated by breaking his bonds. She was free to see him, but once he chose his sides again, she would no longer be able to speak to him as anything other than the messenger for one side or another.

“I bid you farewell, King Pendaran. Call if you have need of me.” Sebilla walked out of the area then, her head held high as she finally disappeared from sight.

“Strange one, that woman.” A more fluid and musical voice spoke near the King’s left ear. When he looked it would be one of his few will of the wisp females. Her skin, for the time being, wasn’t see through, but Pendaran would still be able to see the dull glow of the light she used to lure men and women to their deaths – right around where her heart should have been. She was an interesting creature to look at, see through when she wanted to be – not unlike a panel of glass. For now, though, she appeared to be almost corpse-like, emulating no doubt, one of the many dead women she had killed in the marshes and waterways of Dystopia. For what it was worth, the corpse she had chosen to take form of was a delicate one, almost childlike with its porcelain skin. The eyes were hollow in appearance, darkened by death and disuse.

“I wonder if you will test her loyalty.” The wisp meant Sebilla, but she could have also meant the Unseelie Queen. In his war efforts, because of the substantial amount of marshland and water in Ulster, the Wisps could be utilized to their full effect – picking off men, women, and children to the benefit of the Unseelie Host.

[Paroxysm]

An icy smile slithered its way onto Pendaran's face, and for a brief moment, he felt all of his weariness abruptly vanish. It would be good for Sebilla to see her brother, and to make up her mind on what she was going to do. He would need to know how she would react to family that opposed her, should she choose to truly side with the Unseelie, and if she chose to join them, well, then he could simply deal with her before she had a chance to resolve herself.

"She is a product of her raising," Pendaran replied without focusing on the spirit addressing him. "As are we all, in a way, but she grows more confident, it seems."

That was both good and bad, as Pendaran saw it. Before, she was more open to suggestion, easier to coerce and direct, but as confidence grew, it would be harder to gauge the woman; and given that she was now as close to sidhe as any mortal was ever like to get, this made her more dangerous than she could possibly realize. Still, her independence from her brother was a good thing. How many times had his spies told him of the Xanathi’s tendency to use and abuse their women? Sebilla could easily be a knife hidden at their back, and they’d never take her serious enough to defuse the threat.

“Hph,” the Unseelie king snorted.

“No point,” he said, a barely audible, anima-like growl bubbling from his throat in warning. Pendaran was far more forgiving than many of the other sidhe lords, but he had his limits when it came to open disrespect, or what appeared to be disrespect. The wisp was overstepping her bounds.

“Sebilla will test herself and I will simply watch,” he shrugged, “and should she fail, I will rip the power from her and scatter what is left to the four corners of the world.”

As for Igraine . . . Well, Pendaran had no illusions as to her true allegiance. The woman would no doubt be devoted to her child, and to her mother and country, and to the Seelie, who she was the heiress apparent. The Unseelie king could not fault her for any of those, either; after all, his devotion belonged to his own people and to his goals, the latter he saw of the utmost importance. Still, it was the king’s hope that Queen Igraine knew better than to openly fight against the Unseelie and to support their enemies. There was a great deal more knives in play than Sebilla, after all.

“I believe both of my Ladies will need to be watched closely,” Pendaran said after a moment. “There is no knowing when they may be attacked, after all.”

The threat was obvious: If Sebilla tried to join forces with the Seelie or her family (such as Trydian) then she would need to be killed, and the attack would of course be blamed on the Seelie. Likewise, the same went for Igraine, though it would no doubt be more difficult to pull off. If anything, should her activities become suspect, Pendaran, himself, would have to be the one to take care of matters.

He would do it too, gladly. Nothing, nothing was allowed to get between him and his dream.

“See to it,” he commanded, authority ringing in his voice.

The Unseelie king closed his eyes and felt himself relax. His mind wondered back onto what Sebilla had said, and how it could play into what he wanted to accomplish.

An heir of his house, of his power and influence, paired off with Igraine’s Morgana; it could work, couldn’t it?