Mother of Midnight

Chapter 175 – Waiting

Kaelvar’s fingers drummed against the gilded armrest of his chair, his expression caught between skepticism and exhaustion. “Is that all then?” he asked, voice flat. “You’ve come to tell us that we have a crisis and that crisis should, conveniently, be solved through your intervention?”

Rava tilted her head, her smirk never faltering. “No,” she said, drawing out the word with slow amusement. “There are a few other revelations you might find… useful.”

Kaelvar exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his temple as if bracing himself for whatever was coming next. “And they would be?”

Rava raised a single clawed finger. “First, one of Praxus’ champions is dead.”

That got his attention. His posture stiffened, and his drumming fingers stilled. His sharp golden eyes studied her, weighing the truth of her words. “Are you certain?”

Her smirk widened. “Yes. I was there,” she said simply, letting that sink in before continuing. “We fought against both Darius and Alisaria. Darius managed to escape. Alisaria, however…” Her lips curled further, revealing the glint of sharp teeth. “Did not.”

A ripple of reaction moved through the room, faint but unmistakable. A few exchanged glances, while others, like the younger woman—Aeryn, was it?—looked outright skeptical.

Kaelvar, for all his faults, was not a fool. He leaned back in his throne-like chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “And how exactly did you manage that?” he asked, voice carefully measured. Not disbelief, but curiosity laced with caution.

Rava shrugged one shoulder. “Vivienne did most of the work.” Her smirk twisted into something more like pride. “You’d be surprised what happens when you get on her bad side.”

Kaelvar leaned forward slightly, his curiosity slipping through the cracks of his carefully measured expression. “Vivienne… Who is she?” His voice carried a rare note of genuine interest, as though the name alone demanded further explanation.

Rava tapped her claws idly against the edge of the table, pretending to consider her answer. Did she want to reveal Vivienne? Probably not. Should she? Definitely not. Was she going to anyway?

She was feeling very irresponsible.

It wasn’t as if they couldn’t fight their way out if things went south. It would be difficult while carrying Kivvy and Liora, but they were the smallest of the group, and Renzia had proven to be surprisingly nimble when the need arose. The odds weren’t ideal, but they weren’t impossible either.

Besides, there was an itch beneath her skin, an impulse far stronger than any caution or decorum could restrain—an almost wicked delight at the thought of introducing her beautiful, chaotic, absolute menace of a companion to this room full of stiff-necked, self-important fops.

She could already picture it. The moment Vivienne stepped inside. The flicker of disbelief in their eyes. The subtle stiffening of their shoulders. The way their carefully composed expressions would falter as they took in the strange, eerie elegance of her—those black, bottomless eyes, that smile just a touch too wide, the quiet but unmistakable wrongness of her presence.

Oh, it would be delicious.

“If you give me a moment,” she said, barely suppressing the satisfaction curling at the edges of her tone, “I can fetch her from our wagon. She’s staying with it for now.”

Aeryn let out a dismissive scoff. “You left a so-called valuable ally outside in the cold? That doesn’t sound like someone worth our attention.”

Kaelvar exhaled through his nose, long-suffering. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her. “We shall reconvene in half a bell. An attendant will show you to a waiting room. We need to discuss what you’ve brought to our attention before you drop any more revelations on us.”

His tone made it clear: this had been quite enough excitement for one sitting.

Rava offered a short, mocking bow, sweeping one arm out to the side. “As you wish.”

Then she turned, motioning for Kivvy and Liora to follow, the smug satisfaction still curling at the edges of her lips.

Snow was utterly fascinating to Vivienne. A strange thought, perhaps, given that she had spent the past several days surrounded by it, but novelty was a stubborn thing. She had been born in a land of heat, raised beneath an unrelenting sun, then moved to a country where snowfall was rare, reserved for the peaks of distant mountains. Now, she was drowning in it.

It was soft yet treacherous, shifting unpredictably beneath her weight. It swallowed sound, yet the crunch it made beneath her paws was deeply, strangely satisfying. She couldn’t feel its cold, not through the dense fur and thick hide of this form, but she could imagine it, the way it would sting against bare skin, sink into flesh and bone.

Her musings shattered the moment she heard the front doors open. Her head snapped up. Even before she saw her, she knew.

Liora.

Vivienne had to force herself to remain still, to suppress the immediate, instinctive urge to shift and rush toward her child. The act was still necessary, for now. But Liora wasted no time. She dashed through the courtyard, her tiny bare feet leaving delicate imprints in the snow before she all but flung herself against Vivienne’s side, burying into the thick fur.

A deep, quiet rumble vibrated through Vivienne’s chest as she curled her tail around Liora in a loose embrace, pressing her snout gently against the little girl’s hair.

“The jig is up,” came Rava’s dry voice. “You can shift back and come inside.”

Vivienne’s ears flicked forward. “They know about me?” she asked, her voice carrying an amused lilt as she began to change, her towering beast form melting away, twisting and compacting until she stood in her humanoid shape once more. In a smooth motion she picked up Liora and rested her on her hip.

Rava smirked and tilted her head toward the courtyard’s other occupants. A handful of soldiers, their duties long forgotten, stood rigidly in place, their eyes locked onto Vivienne with expressions ranging from slack-jawed shock to quiet, horrified fascination.

Rava gave an idle shrug, the motion slow and deliberate. “They do now,” she said, voice laced with the same easy confidence she always carried. “Come on, let’s go.”

As she turned, she reached out, her paw settling firmly but gently against Vivienne’s back. The contrast was stark—Rava’s touch was solid, grounding, warm against the cold shimmer of Vivienne’s skin. A spark of sensation rushed up Vivienne’s spine, a ripple of awareness that sent her shoulders tightening just slightly. Damn her. Rava probably hadn’t even meant anything by it, but Vivienne felt it all the same, and she did not shudder. Not outwardly, at least.

Instead, she rolled her shoulders, shaking the feeling loose as they moved toward the doors.

The moment they stepped back inside, the weight of a dozen stares pressed down on her like a tangible force. It wasn’t fear—not yet—but the wary scrutiny of people trying to make sense of what, exactly, they were looking at. It was a reaction Vivienne was used to, but here, in this moment, with the warm glow of the hall reflecting off the crystalline edges of her features, she relished it.

She had spent years being unseen. Unremarkable. Not anymore.

This life had dangers, risks she would have to be mindful of—but it felt right. It felt like something she was meant for.

The attendant from earlier hastily left after they were shown into the waiting room.

She let her gaze drift, lazily drinking in the expressions of the room, but was quickly distracted when Liora took Renzia’s hand and practically yanked her away toward the far side of the chamber, chattering about something or another. The mannequin tilted her head, listening, before allowing herself to be led away with stiff, deliberate steps.

Kivvy just sat near the hearth wrapped up as much as possible.

Vivienne barely had time to register it before she felt a firm grip on her wrist.

She barely managed a questioning noise before she was tugged forward, Rava’s strength making resistance pointless. Before she knew it, she was being pulled onto the lekine’s lap sideways as the warrior dropped into a deep, plush lounger by the hearth.

Vivienne huffed, squirming for a moment before giving in. Fine. If Rava was going to be like this, she might as well get comfortable. She shifted, resting against the solid, warm frame beneath her, feeling Rava’s arms settle loosely around her waist.

Lazily, she turned her head, catching the faintest flicker of something in Rava’s expression—satisfaction, maybe? Amusement?

Vivienne narrowed her eyes. She’s getting bolder.

She could hardly say she minded.

“You seem to be in a very good mood,” Vivienne noted, her black eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Rava didn’t answer right away. Instead, she leaned in, deftly maneuvering around Vivienne’s horns before pressing a firm, lingering kiss to the top of her head. The motion was easy, casual—an almost absentminded show of affection—but Vivienne felt the warmth of it, the weight behind it.

“Perhaps,” Rava admitted, her voice low and satisfied. “I’ve been put in a position where I have something to hold over the Drakthar idiots. I don’t actually plan to do anything with it—Mother or Narek can, if they want—but it’s nice to have.”

Vivienne tilted her head slightly, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. “Then why reveal me? You said it yourself, it would be best to hide.”

That gave Rava pause. Her ears flicked as she considered the question, her fingers idly tracing absent patterns against Vivienne’s side. “During the meeting, they threw some very thinly veiled insults,” she said after a moment, “and all I could think was how I wished you were there.”

Vivienne let out a slow, melodious giggle, the sound light and teasing. “That bad, was it? They hurt your feelings?”

Rava let out a growl, low and rumbling, but the amusement in her eyes betrayed her. “No,” she said, lips twitching in a smirk. “I’m not that thin-skinned. I just thought that, with your blatant disregard for hierarchy, it would’ve been hilarious to see their reactions.”

Vivienne sighed, draping herself against Rava’s chest like she was the most comfortable seat in existence. “Sweetheart,” she purred, her tone brimming with indulgent delight, “you are learning.”

"You are a terrible influence," Rava muttered, her voice somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

Vivienne beamed, utterly pleased with herself. “Ah, so I’m making you more fun. That means I’m doing my job well, then.”

Rava huffed, shaking her head, but the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips betrayed her. Without warning, she reached out, cupping Vivienne’s chin between her fingers, tilting her face up until their eyes met. There was something unreadable in Rava’s gaze—something warm, something hungry.

“You are impossible,” she murmured before leaning in, claiming Vivienne’s lips with her own.

Vivienne all but melted into it, her claws lightly grazing over Rava’s arms as she grinned against her mouth. “And yet, here I exist,” she murmured between kisses, her tone utterly smug. “I can’t be that impossible.”

Rava pulled back just enough to look at her properly, her thumb brushing along Vivienne’s bottom lip before finally releasing her chin. “You break common sense as easily as putting on a dress,” she said, voice lower now, edged with something softer, something almost dangerous. Then, after a pause, she smirked. “Though I wouldn’t mind seeing you out of that again, as good as you look in it.”

Vivienne let out a delighted little laugh, her tail curling in lazy amusement. “Sweetheart,” she purred, pressing closer, “if you wanted me naked, all you had to do was ask. Will need to find someone to mind Liora first, of course.”

“Ugh you two are gonna make me sick.” Complained Kivvy from her permanent residence by the hearth.

Vivienne’s gaze drifted across the room, settling on Liora, who was tugging at Renzia’s sleeve, wide-eyed with curiosity as she peppered the mannequin with questions about the trinkets and furnishings scattered throughout the waiting room. Renzia, for her part, answered in her usual halting, fragmented way, occasionally pausing to tilt her head as if trying to piece together thoughts she wasn’t sure she possessed. Liora didn't seem to mind. She listened intently, nodding along, her tiny hands brushing over the carved wood of a chair leg or the rich embroidery of a curtain as she took in everything with quiet fascination.

Vivienne exhaled softly. The thought of actually having a home to return to was sounding better by the day. She had no qualms about setting down roots in Serkoth—it was sturdy, well-guarded, and the people were friendly enough. She’d seen no real signs of poverty, though she supposed that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, just well hidden. Even the city’s underbelly, as small as it was, had structure. It was safe. Secure. Stable.

And most importantly, her lover lived there.

“She is such a kind girl,” Rava murmured, nodding toward Liora.

Vivienne hummed in agreement, watching as the little one giggled at something Renzia said. “She does seem to be. A bit timid, though, until she warms up to someone.” She let out a soft chuckle, her lips curling in amusement. “Reminds me of when I was young.”

Rava turned to look at her, one brow lifting in disbelief. “You? Timid?”

Vivienne’s grin widened, her lips parting just enough to reveal the hint of needle-like teeth beneath. A thin seam split along the ridges at the sides of her mouth, opening just slightly before sealing again with a quiet shk. “Death was a wondrous cure for it,” she said, her voice light, almost teasing. “Though I can’t recommend it for everyone.”

Rava gave her a dry look but said nothing, instead leaning down to press another kiss to her lips, her fangs grazing Vivienne’s lower lip before she pulled away. “Would you tell me more of your world?”

Vivienne’s five black eyes glinted with amusement. “Of course. What’s something mind-shattering I could tell you about…” She tapped a clawed finger against her lips in thought before snapping them. “Oh! Did you know that almost everyone had a device that could let you communicate with anyone in the world at any time? Not only that, but it also gave you access to the culmination of most of humankind’s knowledge at your fingertips?”

Rava narrowed her eyes. “That sounds far-fetched.”

“It’s true, though! And do you want to hear the best part?” Vivienne grinned, stretching her fingers apart as if presenting something grand. “It could fit in your pocket.”

Now, Rava just stared at her. “…You are lying.”

Vivienne cackled, shaking her head. “Not in the slightest! It was such a mundane thing, too—so common that it was strange if you didn’t have one.”

She launched into a vivid description, painting a picture of sleek, glowing rectangles of glass and metal, capable of translating languages in real-time, displaying moving images, and even granting ordinary people the ability to speak to leaders of nations with the press of a button. She explained social media, the internet, and the sheer, mind-boggling speed at which people could learn, connect, and destroy their attention spans all at once.

At first, Rava listened with quiet skepticism, arms crossed, her tail flicking occasionally as she absorbed the absurdity of it all. But as Vivienne went on, she could see the faintest hints of curiosity creeping into her expression, even if she wouldn’t admit it outright.

Then, just as Vivienne was about to explain the concept of “memes,” the door creaked open, and a soldier stepped inside.

“The council will see you again.”

Vivienne sighed dramatically. “Ah, and here I was, about to tell you about cat videos.”

Rava rolled her eyes and hauled Vivienne to her feet with a firm tug. “Come on, menace. We can probably leave the others here.”

Vivienne slipped off her lap with a satisfied little stretch, adjusting her dress out of habit rather than necessity—the enchanted fabric remained immaculate at all times, unwrinkled and pristine no matter what she did. She smoothed her hands down the soft material anyway, indulging in the motion.

“Renzia, sweetheart,” she called, turning toward the mannequin-like woman. “Can you look after Liora while we’re gone?”

Renzia’s head tilted slightly, her wooden frame creaking faintly as she turned to face Vivienne. With a stiff but practiced motion, she bowed low. “As y-ou wish, miss-tress.”

Satisfied, Vivienne shot a final glance at Liora, who was still preoccupied with questioning Renzia about the various objects in the waiting room. The little girl hardly seemed to notice their departure, absorbed in whatever fascinated her at the moment. Kivvy had made herself comfortable near the fire, and given her apparent distaste for dealing with noble types, Vivienne doubted the goblin would mind missing this second meeting.

She followed Rava out into the hallway, trailing behind the soldier escorting them. This time, rather than amusing herself with Rava’s company, she took the opportunity to actually look around. She hadn’t paid much attention on the way in—too distracted by her new surroundings, her thoughts on Liora, and the lingering warmth of Rava’s hands. Now, however, she had time to absorb the details.

Unlike the exterior of the city, where grey stone dominated the architecture in a way that felt sturdy, practical, but ultimately drab, the interior of the Drakthar Clan Hall was—

“Atrociously gaudy,” Vivienne declared, nose wrinkling in open distaste. “Do the Drakthar not know of any colors besides red and gold? The Serkoth Clan Hall was boring, but at least it wasn’t offensive to look at.”

Rava huffed a quiet laugh but didn’t contradict her. The halls were lined with heavy banners of deep crimson, embroidered with shimmering golden thread in ostentatious patterns. The walls themselves bore intricate carvings depicting battle scenes and Drakthar victories, their warriors forever locked in poses of conquest. Ornate braziers flickered with light, casting dancing shadows over the excessive displays of wealth and self-importance.

The soldier leading them stiffened at her remark, then half-turned to glare over his shoulder. He had the sharp, angular features common among the Drakthar, and judging by the way his nostrils flared, he was just itching to say something.

Vivienne met his gaze with a slow, deliberate grin, her lips peeling back—not just at the corners, but further, splitting her face open just enough to reveal a glimpse of the rows of needled teeth beyond. The wet shk of her true mouth parting was barely audible, but the effect was instant.

The soldier snapped his head forward again, shoulders going rigid.

Vivienne let her expression settle back into something more demure, though the glint in her five black eyes remained utterly delighted.

Rava sighed, shaking her head. “You are impossible.”

“And yet, here I exist,” Vivienne murmured smugly.