Page 114 of Within the Veil

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We stare at Oberon with varied degrees of shock as he finishes his story. Xena however, is the first one to speak.

You have met Ruadhan of the Void? The King's brother? Her eyes blown wide on her face would be comical if it didn't make her look like an adorable Disney character.

"You are best friends with the Boogie man of the Fae?" Jensi's jaw drops.

"Why can everyone else just go for a walk and come back home, but you somehow fall into a damn portal to the shadow realm?" Hunter asks incredulously. Well, he's not wrong.

"A portal? People fall into portals all the time," Ryder waves his hand in the air. "He didn't just fall into a portal he found the damn veil within the veil and became a swash-buckling-rogue with The Dark Man."

"Ah. The fish comment. Water. Ship. Pirate. Got it," Jensi nods enthusiastically as if that was a normal connection to make... to anyone not connected to our strange-ass minds. It is fun in here. Like a fun-house with extra mirrors and smoke. Except it isn't a house, it is a labyrinth of doom and not-so-vague sexual innuendos. That's the fun part.

Elodia stares at Oberon in fascination. Her once gigantic form had gotten smaller with every minute of Oberon's story until she was back to her cuddly self.

Oberon hums instead of responding, his arms crossed over his chest as he leans on the desk, apparently having used up his considerable powers of soliloquy.

I giggle at his unamused stare and turn to Elodia, "Okay, so not evil. I have known that from the moment I met him, though. So why the reaction to him? Is it simply because of the darkness that seeped into his soul from spending so much time within the shadow realm? Because that's rather extreme. We all have varying degrees of darkness within our souls, it's what we choose to do with that darkness that should determine our worthiness."

Grayson nods slowly, his eyes on Oberon, "an original weapon--a weapon forged by the first gods. You mentioned inscriptions on the blade. I can only assume they are the same ones that are woven into Dùn Leabhar and Hudson's spear..."

"CLIT..." I interrupt, and Grayson sighs, but I wave for him to continue on. He would have been able to see my memories and know what my mighty CLIT looks like now that the desk has deemed him worthy.

"I don't think it was an issue of the state of his soul. Oberon may have questionable methods of training," Grayson holds up his hand, staving off the objection on Oberon's tongue. "Questionable, but I understand your methods and why you do what you do. I admire it. Not many would willingly endure the pain that comes from witnessing those you're meant to protect suffer, especially when that suffering is caused by your own hand. Nor carry the burden of a reputation that alienates you from those same people." His voice exudes a steely resolve as he inclines his head in respect, his eyes on Oberon.

I resist the urge to both smile at the discomfort that flares briefly through Oberon from praise and to hug him because he truly deserves a lot more thanks than he receives. Because Grayson is absolutely correct, it is hard enough to make choices for an entire Kingdom, but to do so knowing that the people you protect are afraid to acknowledge your presence beyond a fearful bow is admirable. I would tell them to go fuck themselves. Okay, I wouldn't, but I would strongly consider it.

"What I mean is the presence of a weapon with that kind of power. The desk must have recognized it. While I never felt the signature of an original weapon, now that I am aware and in the presence of four, it is clear that the signature is quite unique, and terrifying in its potency," Grayson says, his voice thoughtful as if trying to choose each word carefully.

"Four weapons?" King wonders out loud.

"My mighty CLIT, the Shadow Phallus of Destruction, the Dùn Leabhar and Elodia?" I question with a slight pause, but saying it out loud, it does make sense. Elodia isn't exactly Fae but isn't not a Fae? If her existence is to protect the greatest of weapons and treasures, then technically, she is a weapon herself. I look at the desk with a critical eye. While it looks innocuous enough, you can't deny the power pouring from it. In fact, I'm sure that desk would eat someone faster than a death eater would stuff Mad-Eye Moody in a chest.

King chuckles, but Zane rolls his eyes at my thoughts, "Not everything needs a Harry Potter reference. Also, we are not going to call Shadow Fire the Shadow Phallus of Destruction." I narrow my eyes at him. Guess I know who is the favorite penis today. Hint, it's not the fucker who doesn't appreciate my wit.

"So, this is the first time you have seen an original weapon?" King asks, interrupting Zane's vocal response, but it doesn't stop the influx of 'I'm going to take you over my knee' rants in my head.

Grayson shakes his head, "While the Fae know of their existence, we do not know of their existence. The particularities of those weapons, for example, like what powers they hold and where they rest, are beyond our knowledge or abilities to attain that knowledge. Consider it much like a fable; we all know the stories come from somewhere, but much like how the humans consider the Fae..." He trails off.

"They are pretty much a Myth," King finishes, a flash of excitement flaring through his eyes. Nothing like a good ol' unraveled mystery to get the brain flowing. Even if it is a mystery, none of us were really considering...or knew about...or cared about. Except for Oberon, who seems to seek and know all, even by accident, and apparently has a Dragon blood brother. I guess there were worse things than having a Dragon brother-in-law.

I shake my head to attempt to get back on track, trying to think past the mounting frustration with my brain's inability to stay on track, more so than usual.

"Baby brain," they all chorus at the same time, like a warped cookoo clock. I scowl, I don't have time for 'baby brain,' so I ignore their less-than-helpful comment and turn to Elodia.

"So the desk recognized the weapons? Which means you did too. Don't think I didn't catch your weird looks. So why the hulk out?"

She shrugs delicately, "It's a natural response to an unbalanced seeker of the knowledge within the desk. The only reason he is still in one piece is because I also sensed the goodness of his heart, and was able to think past the haze to allow him to speak. Yes, that is in spite of him being your mate. I have a sacred duty, one that can not be blinded by emotion. Can not, not will not. Grayson is correct in his assessment. I am a weapon in corporeal form-- one with the ability to think, react, and have some form of autonomy but not enough to deviate from my purpose."

I nod, "fair. Like a ravenous blade with a soul. That's not terrifying or anything. Nor is the fact that you bound me to you and my faithful CLIT."

"I do what must be done. As for recognizing the weapon, it is odd for him to have it. However, if Ruadhan felt the need to transfer ownership, I am not one to question his choices. Never mind that could not have done so if the weapon did not relinquish its ties to him. While Ruadhan is not like me, in the sense that he was not created for the purpose of protection, his vow is as sacred as my own. If not more so, because for Gaia to have given him access to a realm which holds one of the deepest wells of untapped power, she would have had to give him part of her essence to ensure he did not succumb to the temptation that lies within."

"There goes that damned iced coffee delivery again," I mutter.

"Okay, so now what? We wait until the desk lets us know if there is something we need within its possession?" Zane asks as he runs through a mental checklist of what he can and cannot do, and to be fair, I understand.

"Wait a godsdamn, minute," I interrupt Zane's frantic planning as a thought pops into my head.

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