Reluctantly Rogue Pt. 02 Ch. 03

(Note: This is a long, ongoing story. It is a story with sex. It's a sexy story. It is in many ways a story about sex. But, it is not strictly a sex story. Many chapters may even be SFW.

This chapter is, despite the name, mostly SFW!)

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CHAPTER THREE

To Define a Fetish

In the trees outside the Birdhouse, Atyr found the pair of chaos-causing immortals.

"You two." He stalked up them. "Are absolutely the most aggravating people I have ever met."

Helliot blinked calmly at him. "I do apologize for the haphazard manner in which this morning has played out. Had we been permitted to speak at length last night, I am certain much of this could have been avoided."

"Come on, dummy, let's let Belzy sulk while we go plot without him."

"Pesky, wait. Let me talk to him for just a moment. Mr. Helliot. Why shouldn't I explain everything to Bird and Kella right now?"

"Thank you, Mr. Bracken. I do appreciate the opportunity to make my explanations." He smiled, and folded his velvet fingers together. "I worry that, unless matters are introduced with care, Abarabirdadellet may refuse to engage further with me. I worry also, that certain descriptions of the circumstances of the situation might disincline Ms. Thorn to participate."

Pesky rolled her eyes. "I'll be waiting over here, once you've finished having your mind muddled all over again by, can I remind you, an actual prince of the Inferno?"

She buzzed off in annoyance. Atyr looked at Helliot. "That's the thing though, isn't it? You're worried that Bird won't want to deal any further with you if she finds out you were a devil all along. You think Kella won't want to be bound to a devil. Just like, if you'd introduced yourself to me as a Scion of the Inferno, whatever that is, you know I wouldn't have been willing to talk to you at all."

Helliot smiled. "Mr. Bracken, you are only partially correct. I am willing to accept you at your word that you would have been unwilling to treat with me, had I explained my background in full. However, I am not certain that Ms. Thorn would share your reticence. And Abarabirdadellet," he caught Atyr's eye, "was entirely aware of who it was she was summoning, when she extended her invitation to me, these many summers past."

Atyr hadn't been expecting that. Bird knew? All these years, she'd known that her "fae man" was actually a fiend? She had willingly summoned a prince of devils to her? He had no response.

"No, Mr. Bracken, it is not that I fear what should happen were you to utter the word 'Devil.' I realize, belatedly, and this is a failing entirely of my own creation, I realize that you may be unversed in the workings of agreements with immortals. It is not like a mundane contract, Mr. Bracken, it is--"

"No, I understand how it works now. Pesky explained it last night."

"Ah, excellent, excellent. Then you understand that a resolution will occur?"

Atyr nodded.

"And you recall the three methods which would release me?"

Another nod, curt.

"Let me reiterate then, Mr. Bracken. The resolution I desire, is for Abarabirdadellet to pass her stake on to another, and if I may drop my previous coyness, to your Ms. Thorn in particular. The second resolution is moot; it remains impossible. The final resolution would be the passing of our dear friend. Whether or not you now believe me, I maintain that it is most dearly that I wish to avoid hastening that event."

Helliot looked deep into Atyr's face, questioning. Atyr only shrugged, and looked away.

"Well, Mr. Bracken, whether or not you can find it within yourself to trust in my words, it is nevertheless the truth that I should like to avoid that morbid outcome. And so it is, that I have formed a plan which I believe will best enable us to ensure that it is only my preferred scenario which--"

"If you were only willing to accept a specific resolution, you would have specified it in our agreement." Atyr's voice was quiet.

Red velvet hands spread disarmingly. "My dear Mr. Bracken, please believe--"

"I don't."

"I confess it may have been a careless mista--"

"I don't believe you." It was nearly a lie, on Atyr's part. Even now, it was impossible not to relax into a calm, trusting state when talking to this man.

Helliot's tone grew crisper. "Whether or not you believe me is, at this juncture, irrelevant. Our goals are currently in complete alignment, and the only pragmatic--"

"Come on, Pesky, let's go."

"It is only to both of our disadvantage, should we fail to work in concert at this point. When ends are in harmony, means may be excused, Mr. Bracken, and I think you will soon come to see..."

Helliot's voice faded behind them as they headed down the hill.

Leaving the Birdhouse behind, Atyr headed straight for Gant's lodging house. It seemed he wouldn't be leaving town this morning after all. Pesky, astonishingly, managed to stay silent.

The main room was empty when he entered, and Gant was trudging slowly about the floor with a broom.

"Ah, young Bracken, back already? I owe you breakfast still, if you're in the mind for it."

Food did sound appealing right now. "I wouldn't turn it down, thanks."

The small innkeep nodded dourly and turned to go, but Atyr stopped him.

"It seems I'll be in town a while yet. I thought I'd be gone already but... but something's come up."

Gant peered at him, eyes narrow. "Not trouble, I hope?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I just uh, I have something I need to do here. It's to do with the Healing House."

"Sick still?"

"Not sick, just something I feel I ought to do for Bird. Anyway, could I rent a room for a few days, say, the next four nights?"

"Aye, of course. It's three kips a night as you know by now. Would you like that breakfast?"

"I would, I would. But, uh... I was wondering, would it be possible to rent a room just for myself once more? I could..." He stopped, trying to think of a reason he might need the privacy that didn't involve talking to invisible faeries. "I'm used to sleeping alone, I suppose."

The old man's thin face looked sour. "I get three in a bed, four some nights. You want to pay for three?"

Nine kips a night was a lot of coin. Four nights would cost him a banner and twelve. "If I pay in advance, it's guaranteed rent." He swallowed. "Would you take a banner for four nights, the room to myself?"

The innkeep paused, then walked to the counter. He counted out four piles of nine kips, stared at them, then pushed the coins all together, and counted out twenty four. He squinted at Atyr. "That there is your banner. That leaves me short..." He counted the smaller pile. "It leaves me short twelve kips."

"Twelve kips if you get three to a bed every night."

"... aye. I suppose. But what do you need the privacy for so bad? And where are you getting all this coin, I might ask?" The little man straightened up to his full height and looked up at Atyr. "I'll not have any untoward happenings in my rooms, whether you pay or no."

"Of course not! I did come into some coin, but I don't expect I'll be finding much more. It's no use to me in the Brookwood, but I do need a place to stay. And, all I can say is I've had a rough couple weeks. The privacy would mean a lot to me, right now."

Eventually, the old man relented, suspicion still on his face, and Atyr handed over a silver banner. A few more remonstrances about keeping out of dodgy business followed, but eventually he was permitted to head upstairs to his private room. Breakfast had been forgotten.

"Alright," he said slowly to Pesky. "I need to do a couple things about town, but first, you and I are going to talk. We need a plan."

"Oh, a plan, excellent." She was flopped, spread eagle on the pillow. "I didn't know you did those."

"Hah." He paced. "I know this has been stated to fate and back, but one more time, alright?" He held up a finger. "One. Bird dies. That's bad." He glared at her. "Right?"

She made a noncommittal squeak, but relented under his continuing stare. "'Kay."

"Two. Kella takes over. She makes a deal with a devil. Not as bad, but probably still pretty bad." Pesky was kicking her legs in the air now. "Three. Impossible. Bird has to be able to talk to Helliot directly."

"Mmhmmmm, sounds right to me."

"I want to do number three."

Pesky sat up and placed her chin in her palms. "That's the impossible one?"

"Right. It's not impossible though."

"Actually, it is, dummy, alright? She'd have to re-summon Helliot from the Inferno. He's not there. Can't do it."

"Pesky."

"Dummy."

"Pesky, listen. I never summoned any infernal devils, alright? I see him just fine."

"That's because you're fae-touched now."

"Fae-touched, is that what this is called?" He touched the symbol on his forearm.

"It's what you're called. I touched you."

"Perfect, so you can 'touch' Bird."

She flopped back on the pillow, arms behind her head. "It's more or less a one-at-a-time sort of deal." She looked thoughtful. "And elderly ladies are not my type."

"Well, can't we get another fae to do it then? Would Elatla?"

Pesky twisted up her face. "Ummm, I don't think Bird would be willing to do whatever Elatla would want in return for that. But anyway, I'm not certain Elatla could. Not every fae wanders around creating fae-touched adventurers, you know." She stood up and crossed her arms importantly. "You don't think little rock gremlins are out there handing out windows into the immortal realm, do you?" She snorted, tossing her head.

"Fair, but could some other fae?"

Pesky relaxed a bit. "Atyr, not many of us can offer that choice to mortals, and when we do, it's for really important reasons. It's a serious thing."

Atyr's brows shot up high on his forehead. "Really important reasons? So far, you've just tried to get me laid, so far as I can tell."

The little sprite plopped back down on the pillow, turning away from him. "I don't expect a foolish mortal of your few years to understand..."

"Right. Anyway. There really isn't anyone you know, any fae, who might grant this "fae-touch" to Bird?"

She shrugged. "Atyr, I'm sorry. It may be there is, but I don't know who. Even if we found someone who would, they might be a month's journey away, they might require immense sacrifice from Bird, it's... Alright, I guess you're right that it's not impossible, but it might as well be."

Atyr sat down beside her on the bed. "Luckless fate." He flopped down onto his back. "Utterly luckless. Thought I was on to something."

"I don't think Helliot would have mentioned that outcome if he thought it was likely to happen. He wants Kella."

"Right." Atyr shook his head, a sneer on his lips. "He wants Kella, but he'll take Bird's death or her rejection as second place, if it comes to it. What a fae-cursed little--"

"'Fate-cursed', Dummy."

"Huh?"

"Fiends are fate-cursed, not fae-cursed." She grinned. "We just curse at them."

"Oh. Didn't realize it was that literal."

"Mmhm."

Silence fell over the little room for a while. The young man lay on the bed, staring deep into the rough wood of the ceiling. The sprite on the pillow beside him had her legs straight up in the air again; she was tapping her toes with a pointed finger, back and forth in sequence, back and forth. He looked over at her. It seemed to be an engaging game.

"Morgwyn," he said suddenly.

"Hmm?" She stopped, finger touched to her little toe.

"Morgwyn, wasn't it?

"... Maybe? Wasn't what?"

"The witch. Right here by Woodstead in the old tower."

Pesky's little bell of a voice was patronizing. "'Morgwyn?' what an ugly name. Suits her. But no, it's Wetlyn. What about her?" She rolled up onto an elbow to stare into his eyes. "She's way beyond you, please believe me. Unless you fancy becoming a stack of Ranger steaks."

"She eats people?"

"No. Maybe." Pesky thought for a moment. "Probably. Seems like something she'd do."

He shook his head. He didn't want to worry about that right now. "So Wetlyn. She's a witch. She does magic."

Pesky just stared at him, blankly.

"Right? She does magic?"

"... Yes... she 'does magic'. And we care about her suddenly because why?"

"Could she cast a spell that makes Bird able to talk to Helliot?"

Pesky shook her head. "Witches don't really do 'spells'. More like concoctions, making charms, fetishes, stuff like that."

"Excuse me, fetishes?"

"Pervert. A fetish is a small pendant or something that has some sort of effect to it."

"Oh." Always something to learn. "So anyway, could she make something that would let Bird and Helliot talk?"

Pesky pulled in her arms and rolled across the bed to him like a log, stopping just short of his face. She smirked. "You want Wetlyn to give Bird a fetish?"

Atyr sat up and moved away from her, rolling his eyes. "Could she do it?"

"I suppose, maybe? I really don't know."

"If I wanted to ask her, could I just go knock on the tower door? Or will she eat me?"

Pesky twisted her lips up like a bite of a beloved sweet apple had gone to rot in her mouth.

"Is that stupid? Can we go talk to the witch?"

Silence. Pesky glowered.

"Pesky, can we?"

She sighed. "Fine. Fine."

"Pesky, answer me truthfully, is this a good idea, or am I going to get killed here?"

The little sprite stood up slowly, making a show of settling her wings, and straightening her hair. "Truthfully? No, it's a terrible idea. But no, she won't kill you." She looked away a the wall.

"I'm getting conflicting messages..."

"It's fine. It's fine. She's just a luckless old bitch. Hag."

Atyr's brows rose again. He'd never heard that level of distaste in the little fae creature's voice. All further questions, he decided, he would keep to himself.

Back out on the still-muddy road through Woodstead, Pesky's mood improved. She was back in her favorite seat, the top of Atyr's head, happily drumming her heels against his eyebrows.

"You know, the world is always so nice after a good rain." She hummed a flute-like melody to herself. "I just love it when everything's all wet." She weirded the word 'wet,' causing Atyr's thoughts to go reeling sideways into distracting places.

"Shut up. I have something to grab here." They were right out front of Rehamel's Smithy.

"Ooooh, are you going to grab his wood? He seemed to like what you did with it before." Her voice layered 'wood' with a deep eroticism, and Atyr was mortified to feel himself stiffening noticeably where he stood on the street. He ducked quickly inside the shop before any passerby might see.

Fortunately, Rehamel wasn't in the front, and the bulge in Atyr's pants subsided undetected.

"Fates curse you, Pesky. I told you I don't go for men."

Pesky giggled. "I'm certain."

"I don't! So you can stop making the dumb jokes about--"

"Talking to yourself Atyr?" Rehamel was coming through the door. He grinned. "Guess that wolf really did get you worked up, huh?"

From on top of Atyr's head came a titter. "Worked up."

He ignored her. "Hah, I guess so. The past couple weeks have been... there's been a lot, Rehamel."

"You alright?"

"Oh yah, just... you know, talking to myself, I guess." Both men laughed.

The flame-headed smith reached under the counter and pulled out the small bundle, handing it to Atyr. "They're nicer than I thought they'd be. Should do you well."

Atyr unwrapped the two daggers, taking them out of their dingy sheathes to admire the blades. "Fates, Rehamel. These were nice weapons once."

"They were! Still are, though the hilts and sheathes aren't too pretty. I see now why the old fellow thought I could use them."

Pesky looked down at the blades. "I really hope you don't think these are going to be in any way useful to you when we visit Wetlyn."

Atyr ignored her. "These are worth more than the five kips we agreed on."

The smith smiled at him and tilted his head in acknowledgment. "Maybe, yeah. But we agreed on five, and five it is."

"You could get a full banner I bet, if you put these up for sale."

"Maybe. Maybe I could, eventually." Rehamel shrugged. "But I never would have cleaned them if you hadn't been looking, so I never would have known, would I? Five is the price."

Atyr chewed his lip. "If you're determined. But I owe you for sure, alright?"

The smith laughed at him warmly. "Alright, if it makes you feel better. Next time I need help with something to do with wood I'll be demanding your skills. Sound fair?"

Pesky snickered, and Atyr swatted her off his head, trying to make it look like he was just running a hand through his hair. His cheeks reddened. "It's a deal." Choked laughter came from the floor behind him.

Atyr moved on, ignoring the sprite. "Hey, so that saw, how much was it? The smaller one?"

"Oh, you could have it for two and six."

Atyr emptied his coin purse. Two banners and ten kips lay in his hand. He put the coins away again. "I think I better hold off for now. Still dreaming about it though!"

Rehamel caught Atyr's eye. "You've certainly been earning some coin of late, huh? Seems a few days ago you were in here kipless."

Atyr nodded, paying for the blades. "Yeah, bit of a lucky break or two. I'm sure it won't last." Well you see, first a banner fell out of that wolf I told you about, and then a devil prince from the Inferno gifted me three more...

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Thanks so much for reading!

-ScryBells