"Have you named her yet?" Qas̆pa's lavender hair fell like a waterfall as she learned over the crib, looking at the tiny bundle wrapped up in a bright blue blanket. The baby was not as cute as she'd been led to expect, with a little red face, a few poufs of scraggly silver hair, and light blue eyes heavy with drowsiness.

"Him," Aphora corrected her as she bent down and placed a gentle kiss on the child's forehead.

"Him?" Qas̆pa huffed in disappointment. "But I thought you said I'd have a sister?"

"Did I?" Amusement rippled across her face. "Or did I say you would be a sister? Sometimes, child," she ruffled the girl's hair fondly, "I think you hear what you want to hear."

"Aww." Qas̆pa squirmed out of her grasp, with a slight pout on her face. But her disappointment was temporarily forgotten as the baby stirred, and catching sight of her, reached a pudgy little hand up. "He looked at me!"

"See, a brother's not so bad."

"Can I name him?" Aphora laughed as the girl whipped up her head eagerly.

"I think his father might want a say in the name."

"But I'll pick a good one," Qas̆pa pressed. "Like Mār-ti, or Limmy, or Qas̆pī."

Aphora choked back her laugh. "You certainly have a preference, but I have another name in mind."

"What?" Aphora shook her head, and the girl grabbed her hand. "Teeell meeee," she begged.

"Oh, alright," Aphora relented. "If his father doesn't object, I'll name him Sînus̆kar."

"Sînus̆kar." The girl's nose wrinkled. "That's not a pretty name."

"Oh, we wouldn't call him that," Aphora laughed. "He'll be my little Karī until he grows into the name, but it is a good name, a strong name for the future leader of our home. Do you know who Sînus̆kar was?"

Qas̆pa shook her head, but ventured a guess anyway. "Your father?"

"No," Aphora hid the brief pang that pierced her heart at the question. He never got to see any of them. "Sînus̆kar was one of the leaders of the elven-human coalition that fled the ruins of the Mwyranni empire. Without his strength, the survivors would likely have been slaughtered along the way, and without his wisdom, the Empire might never have been founded. If my little Karī becomes half the man Sînus̆kar was, he will be a great man indeed."

"It's still not a pretty name. Limmy would be better," Qas̆pa persisted, and Aphora chuckled.

"Somehow, I do not think Karī's father would be pleased if I named him after one of my exes. No, it will Sînus̆kar. But enough chit-chat - we have to get you ready to go to school."

"Aw, do I have to?" Qas̆pa's shoulders drooped.

"Now that you have a friend, you agreed you'd try again."

"I knooow," the girl dragged the word out, scuffing her foot against the floor. "But the kids still don't like me."

"Didn't you say that some of Mar-tī's friends are starting to play with you?"

"Ye-es."

"I know it's hard," Aphora knelt down to look her in the eye, "But you'll never make more friends if you don't let people get to know you. You're a lovely little girl, Qas̆pa, and once they see that, they'll stop being afraid."

"But not everyone."

"No, not everyone," Aphora agreed sadly. "But most will - and if anyone steps over the line, you let me know, okay?"

"'Kay." The girl nodded her head reluctantly.

"Now, turn around," she said, nudging the girl's shoulders gently. "We have to do something about your hair before you go."

After she finished braiding Qas̆pa's hair, Aphora sent her off with Mullu-Limmu and returned to the cradle. Karī had drifted off to sleep, the wrinkles on his tiny face easing as he snored lightly. She suppressed the urge to pick him up, not wanting to rouse him now that he had finally fallen asleep, and knelt him beside.

He was perfect. Unexpected, but perfect. And for the first time, truly hers. Tsia, Ramû's, and Marrasîn's fathers had all claimed them, not that she was entirely faultless. Aphora knew she could have fought harder to keep them, but she hadn't. She allowed her own abandonment issues to distance her from children, allowed the hole that her parents' death had left in her heart to consume her, but this time, it would be different. This time, she wouldn't go away.

"Sleep well, my little prince."

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Leaving Karī in the care of a wetnurse, Aphora dressed for the day, still moving a bit gingerly after the birth, and left her chambers. Mullu-Limmu was waiting for her in the hall, his head lolled back against the wall as he snored.

"Limmu." As she nudged his shoulder, the stag straightened up.

"Ah, my lady - are you feeling better?"

"A little sore, but nearly recovered," Aphora replied. "Twas my easiest birth yet."

"And has…" the man's face soured, "the father made an appearance?"

"Why Limmu," she gasped in fake astonishment, "I didn't know you were so eager to meet him."

"I'm not," he gritted out. "You know how I feel about the Sidhe, but since you won't listen to reason-"

"I've told you, he's not like that," Aphora cut him off. Probably, a little voice in her murmured, as she remembered her moment of doubt outside Dūr-Adû. "Our Lady herself vouched for him - is that not good enough?"

Limmu, a faithful devotee of Selene, was caught between a rock and a hard place. "I…have great faith in our Lady's wisdom, but even the gods were deceived by Lord Kruvas̆. How many elves died by that Sidhe's hands, my lady?"

"And how many died because of my actions?"

The stag's face paled. "My lady, you can't blame yourself for that-"

"No." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "I can and I do, as much as the destruction my mother wreaked was never my intention. But I have to believe that it is possible to atone, that you are not solely defined by the mistakes you have made."

"Yes, thousands of elves have died at Meḫawwû's hand, but he is not that man anymore. General Meḫawwû is dead, and Lord Imḫullu stands in his place. Perhaps I am a fool, but I truly believe he no longer seeks vengeance."

Limmu sighed, but begrudgingly nodded his head. "I will try to trust your judgment, my lady - but if he ever acts against you or this child-"

"Then you have my permission to act. With extreme prejudice," she assured him. "And, just to be clear, Imḫullu hasn't come because I asked him not to. He is desperate to meet little Karī, but I do not want to risk our people seeing him just yet. If we can return with the elves of Dūr-Adû, if the people can see he is willing to save elves rather than kill them, they may give him a chance, but you know they will not now. And I will not subject my son to their prejudice."

"Very well." Limmu rose stiffly, cracking his neck with an audible pop. "Getting too old to sleep outside of a bed," he grumbled. "I assume you want to resume our plans?"

"Yes," Aphora nodded. "Please send for Tōrin and Tesha. I will not leave those elves suffering any longer than necessary."

Tesha was the last to arrive, and Aphora's eyes sharpened as Tōrin ushered her into the arm. The Fey woman was beautiful as always, with her long black hair braided with a string of fine pearls and a delicate white dress that popped against her jade skin. But there was a new addition to her outfit, a spiraled silver bangle on her left forearm, endowed with a sizable sapphire.

"Tesha," she rose to meet the woman, embracing her with an awkward hug. "You didn't tell me you were engaged."

The woman's cheeks colored as she took her seat. "I've barely had time to process it myself," she admitted. "But didn't Limmu tell you?"

"Limmu?" Aphora echoed, glancing over at the stag, who shifted uncomfortably. Oh.

"I, uh, hadn't found the right time to bring it up with you, my lady. What with the birth and all."

"Ah." Aphora smiled graciously, understanding the real reason he'd felt uncomfortable. But their past was so long ago, she was surprised he'd been concerned. "Well, I'm happy for you. Both of you." She slipped into her own chair and gestured at Tōrin. "Do you have the map?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, my lady." Leaning over, her chancellor spread the map Imḫullu had given her across the table.

"I've already discussed this with Limmu and Tōrin," Aphora continued, "But I thought you should know too. It turns out there's several communities of captured elves being held by the Sidhe. I wish to free them."

"So that's where you disappeared to a few months ago." Tesha studied the map intently. "But where'd you get the information?"

"There is a…friendly Sidhe," Aphora replied carefully. "One that wishes to help."

"A friendly Sidhe?" Tesha parroted skeptically. Unlike the elves, the Children of St. Martin had no particular bone to pick with the Sidhe, but they were still aware of their reputation. "Isn't it more likely, then, that this is just a trap to lure you in?"

"Lady Selene herself vouched for him," she shook her head, "and I've personally investigated this site," she tapped the icon of Dūr-Adû on the map, "and seen the elves held captive there. They are real."

The Fey frowned, chewing on her lip, as she returned her attention to the map. "You're hoping my people will help you free them," she stated bluntly.

"I am." Aphora saw no point in sugar coating it. "I trust this Sidhe's good intentions - as much as any Sidhe can be trusted - but we will inevitably run into conflict with the ruler of this settlement. Any help your people are willing to offer would be appreciated, but I will not command it of them."

"Limmu?" Tesha had a knowing look in her eye as she glanced up at her betrothed. "Tell me you're not planning to join this mission."

His grimace was response enough, and the Fey sighed. "Seeing as how I would prefer not to be widowed before I am even wed, I suppose I'll be going along. I assume you have a plan?"

"We do." Aphora pulled out a new map, a close-up of Dūr-Adû's layout, and placed it beside the former. "As I'm sure you know, we can't risk travelling such a long distance across the plains. It would be only a matter of time before one of the Sidhe would notice us and come looking, but I've already scouted out the site. There was a spot here we could use for a portal," she tapped on a row of bluffs overlooking the lakeside city.

"A temporary portal of that size would be no mean feat." Tesha looked up skeptically. "Have you ever done it before?"

"Not that large," Aphora admitted, "But I have done smaller ones and have spent a good deal of time preparing the ritual. I'm certain it can be done."

"And what about the lord of this city? Defeating a Sidhe is no easy task."

"Hopefully, we won't need to worry about that. Our contact seems determined to find the city lord on his own."

"And if he turns you?"

"We have plans to deal with that too." Aphora pulled out another document and handed it over to the Fey. The woman fell silent as she studied it, but eventually nodded her head.

"So you do," she replied simply. "Very well. You may ask for volunteers from my people. But, Aphora," Tes̆ha added sharply. "Don't get them killed for nothing."

"I won't," she promised.

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