11. Ankou

11

Ankou

" T o begin, one must start at the beginning, but I will not linger there."

Ankou should not have been lingering to begin with, but this was Maeve, his only child, and there was so much that he had to explain to her.

And so he started at the very beginning, when Danu came into being.

"I was bade be still, and from that came my purpose. Duty was bestowed upon me. To give the souls of the dead traveling from one realm into the next a respite, to hold those who need holding, and to uphold the laws of Danu. And while I performed my functions, and found satisfaction in their results, I knew there was more I wanted.

"The dead are plentiful, and ever-streaming through my gates. Even for one such as I, uniquely suited to the task, it is impossible to track all of them. But I noticed when one of the first of the true Fae fell, and another followed in a way that let her retain her mortal body."

"You speak of Oberon," his daughter's bondmate said. "When he died in the first war."

Ankou glanced at the Fae, noticing once more the currents of shadow and glittering golden energy that now surrounded him. It was new, and intriguing, but he was a patient god. He would know all, in the fullness of time. Nothing that would eventually pass into his realm would remain a secret to him.

"Yes," Ankou agreed eventually. "Oberon died, and Titania soon followed, though not in the normal ways." He smiled, thinking of that time. Thousands of years in the past, and yet he still remembered it exquisitely well, the moment he saw her.

Titania was tall, like him, though she was golden and vibrant everywhere he was dark and cold. Soft where he was sharp. Her eyes, two colors, were like those of the Fae whose soul had already passed through Ankou's gates. A deep brown, and blue the shade of a stormy sea. She had hair to her waist in waves of rich copper, and skin he wanted to touch the moment he saw the flash of her inner wrist.

"I wish to make a pact with you," she had said. "What could I give you, in exchange for the soul of my bondmate?"

The bond was relatively new by then, and the limits only recently tested. Titania knew what it would mean to lose the man, and Ankou wondered if he saw a glimmer of madness brewing already in the corners of her wide eyes.

"Your High Queen saw fit to make a bargain with me. The life of a Fae is worth much, but she had many to use as collateral. We were able to strike upon a price, but then we talked for some time and discovered... shared desire."

Maeve tilted her head, looking at him. "What kind of shared desire?"

Ankou shifted in his seat. "Oberon was a political match, not a match of the heart. Your mother spent hours in my kingdom, speaking with me. Bargaining. Once through, we found we were drawn to each other. That there was something we both wanted.

"Titania had no desire to have a child with Oberon, but she did wish for an heir, as did I. And, so, we struck on a thought. She would return to my realm once a year for a day and a night, and we would create a life together."

There had been far more to it than that, but he was not about to go into the details of how they had come to that delicious arrangement. How he longed for that day and night, and how Titania came to feel the same. How sometimes she would slip into his realm with his token, to steal moments with him.

All of their long talks. Her promises.

If I had known you were in the world, I never would have bonded Oberon.

Ankou gripped the arm of his chair, and heard the wood groan in protest. He released it, hastening to speak. "It passed in this way for centuries. Thousands of years. Fae have difficulty in conceiving and our time together was short and sporadic. But then she found herself with child, at last." He said the final words with a whisper, still watching Maeve, who was keeping her expression impassive. "And we started the process we had long spoken and planned for.

"Your mother longed to bring you into the Court, but she felt it was too dangerous a place for an infant, and there was long a history associated with raising royalty off-world. We found you a family, the Almeida's, and they were supposed to help shepherd you until you came to power."

Maeve leaned forward, deep interest sparking in her eyes. "Allison and Ernest Almeida," she said. "You met them? Knew them?"

"Yes," he said. "And they were good people. Human, through and through, and intelligent, with high bearing. They would have raised you well." Wistfulness stole into his voice and he let it. "Allison in particular was looking forward to being your caretaker. She had learned a long time prior to our meeting that she would be unable to bear children of her own. She saw you as a precious gift."

"I was always told they both died in a car accident," Maeve said. "I've seen the police report of the incident. She died instantly, but he was reported to have lingered until after emergency services arrived, and passed away in the ambulance."

It sounded to him as though she had memorized these facts. His chest ached for her. How little she had known, and how much more there was to explain. "This is where events become somewhat muddled," he said gently. "I met the Almeida's when they came through my gate, asking them what had happened. They reported to know nothing, only that they were driving, and then at the banks of the river Lethe. As quick as a blink. I should have interceded at this point, should have gone to check on you with my own eyes, but I listened to Titania.

"She insisted the Almeida family still had you. That you were being taken care of. She reported back to me all was well, and you were safe." The wood on the chair groaned again, and he let it go with a start. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "For all you had to endure. None of it should have happened. I should have listened to my instinct instead of..." he trailed off.

"When did you find out about it?" she asked, her voice low.

He knew what she meant, and he closed his eyes, remembering the moment. How he had felt a strange sort of tug at his senses, and realized there was something at his gate unlike anything else that had passed through it before. But this one, like many souls before it, was only flirting with his world. When he went to her, drawn by the pressing sensation, he could see she was not passed the final curtain. And how brightly she burned, despite all the pain he could see writ across her features—and then she was gone.

The first glimpse he had of his daughter in nearly a quarter century, and he knew in that instant something had gone terribly wrong. That promises had been broken.

Ankou had gone to his hall of mirrors and looked upon his daughters past at long last, and what he had seen had sent him into a rage so intense that he shattered every piece of glass in an explosion of emotion and power. All but the one before him, where the images and scenes still played out. Year after year. How exploited she had become. How often attacked.

His girl. His precious daughter. Screaming, crying, and begging for help.

How could this have happened without my knowing? He had thought numbly.

And he had sworn then that the very next time he felt her, he would make sure she came to him. He would take these memories from her. He would bring her into his world, and all its many treasures. Let her become the Queen she was always meant to be.

"You must have been twenty-five or twenty-six by then, and once I knew, I realized you had been at the gates of my realm several times before. You flirted with death, Maeve. Took pills that would have led you to me if not for the intervention of certain friends." He could sense the one he spoke of in that moment, moving toward them. She was still several minutes away, however. He had a little more time. "I found out about your past then, and I made a vow."

Rodan put his hand on Maeve's shoulder, and she gripped it so tight her knuckles were white. "What vow?"

"That the next time I felt you, I would pull you through. No matter."

She pulled in a breath and held it, eyes glittering with moisture. "Because I tried to—so many times." Her breath shuddered out. "You made sure I died, then, when I was poisoned in Visantium. Despite the bond. And you made sure to extract a price from Rodan for my life."

"Yes," he said, as gently as he could. "It was a mistake, to pull you through. I thought… I truly thought it was the right thing to do. I am deeply sorry, Maeve my darling."

"Don't call me that," she said, though the words were absent.

His chest hurt. "There has to be a balance, no matter how the event occurred, the price had to be paid."

"Why?" she demanded, voice raising.

"Danu. For every soul returned to life, one must be pledged to death. Those are the rules. She prefers things to be balanced, and so it is. I am one of Four Brothers. Rizor and Tegal are the opposites of Ninack and myself, to create a mirror. There must always be balance. Danu is at risk, otherwise, and as she houses us all, we must preserve her." He stared back at her. "You are the daughter of a god, and the powers of the universe are your playthings but also your bindings."

"I never asked for this," she whispered. "None of it. I didn't need?—"

"I know," Ankou said in calm tones, and reached a hand toward her, unable to help it, even as she failed to react. He curled his fingers into a loose fist, dropping it. "I would have given you the Almeida's, or more, or my own home. We feared raising you among the halls of the dead. It is not a place for living creatures, at least not in the long-term. Even your mother has her limitations when she enters my world."

There had been times he had needed to command her to go, for her shaking had gotten so severe he feared for her health. That had been after weeks with him, however. Still, as soon as Titania became pregnant, her visits to Ankou ceased. It had been a mutual decision.

For the first time, he began to visit her at the Fae Court. Unable to stay away.

There had been a few close calls, but he was certain they managed to remain undetected. Titania took to sleeping in the villa by her reflecting pool, attended only by Kabira, her head handmaid. Rodan's mother. Around them alone, Titania let herself be seen as pregnant. Otherwise, she shielded the appearance of her growing belly.

"None of us ask for the circumstances under which we come to be," Ankou said in what he hoped was a gentle voice. "But I am doing all I can to ensure your way is eased now. I will come to you when you call. Whenever possible, I will aid you. This, I swear."

Maeve stood and moved away from him, and he could see she was trembling, even without Rodan there to lay a hand on her back to steady her. Ankou watched the casual comfort with which they treated one another, and a part of him longed for the same with Titania, as he had for centuries.

But she had lied, about so much, and he had yet to reckon with it, and with her. And now his priority was on finding what his brother was doing with the godhead of his daughter.

He rose from the chair and moved to the opposite side of where Maeve and Rodan now stood. "We're about to have some company," he warned, his senses telling him the mortal was closer now. And there was something more he had to do, before he left this place, this world that was now so thoroughly beginning to belong to his daughter.

Maeve looked at him, eyes glistening with tears. "What do you mean?"

The door opened without a knock, and in strode Jennifer Casper, her light blue gaze taking in the room in one sweeping motion, then sticking when it landed on Ankou. Her eyes widened and she stumbled toward Maeve. "You're?—"

He moved before any could blink, though the elf in the doorway drew their bow up, arrow ready, as Ankou pressed his thumb to Jen's forehead, pouring a command into her soul and bestowing his mark.

He was no longer there when the arrow soared through the space in front of Jen, lodging in the shelf of a narrow bookcase. Ankou threw the elf a dirty look when they swung the next arrow towards his new position. "Do not attempt that again."

"What did you do to her?" Troy Tenley roared, holding steady. Their eyes were narrowed with concentration, but there was not a single tremble in their arms. Remarkable creature.

"Put that down," Maeve demanded, her voice holding a whip of command that showed like a shower of embers towards the elf.

They obeyed, and next was at the side of their lover, who was still staring wide-eyed at Ankou.

"Jennifer Ann Casper, for service done unto my only daughter, and for your loyalty, I have awarded you my mark. You are human, still, and can be hurt. Sicken. But," he gave a smile. "You will not die, nor will you age. Not until you call for me."

"What?" she asked, fingers trembling as she brushed the silvery-blue mark on her forehead, showing like a mirage there and then gone in the lamplight. "Are you serious?"

Troy gazed at him. "Truly?"

All in the room seemed to hold their breath.

Ankou nodded. "It is not a gift I bestow lightly. Maeve," he looked to his daughter. "There is more to tell, more to show you, but I must away."

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded, breaking away from Rodan to come to him. Now it was Ankou who held his breath, waiting for what she might do next.

She stopped within reach, looking up at him, then spoke to the room at large. "I would like a moment alone, please." To him, she said, "I have one more question."

"Anything."

Everyone filed out except Rodan, who lingered at the door until Maeve cast him another look, and possibly telegraphed something through their bond. Then he closed the door, leaving them in silence.

When his daughter turned to Ankou next, her words were soft-spoken. "Is Bethany… do you have her?"

"Yes," he said. "She is at peace. She was grateful for it."

Her eyes filled with more tears, but she lifted her chin. "Please tell her I'm sorry. Tell her we all miss her."

"I will," Ankou agreed. "The very next I see her."

Maeve nodded and swiped at the tears that had fallen in tracks down her cheeks. "You'll come when I pray for you?"

"Yes," he said, without hesitation.

She slid a bit closer. "I'm pissed at you," she said, tone level. "I'm really fucking angry that you forced that situation with my death, in part. I also acknowledge I had my own hand in it." She took a deep breath. "But thank you, for Jen."

Maeve held out her hand, and he took it, squeezing gently and relishing the small contact. He had held her only a few times before she had gone to Earth, after all, and since then, well. He could not blame her for not wanting his touch.

Her head tilted and she took another breath, "The Nyx. I'm going to need to talk to you about them. About what it means, that they sought me out." She let his hand go. "I know you have to go."

"Yes."

"And you're going to look for my godhead."

He tilted his head in ascent, but a part of him was already morbidly certain it was beyond him. Once given freely…

Maeve looked up at him, her eyes shining in the lamplight, and Ankou could not help the damned hope that?—

She stepped forward and embraced him.

His arms wrapped around her instantly, and she spoke against him. "Is it strange to be glad that I know who you are now? Despite it all."

When she pulled back he released her, even though he had wanted to clutch her even tighter, to beg her forgiveness. "We may not know each other well yet," he said, the words thick with emotion. "But we have time, daughter." He gave her a bow. "I must go."

"I know," she whispered. "Thank you for helping."

Ankou nodded, and returned to the underworld.

It was easy as breathing, but it felt like plunging into a cool lake. Enveloping him in calm. This was his domain. Where he was strongest, and where he could see much. All which had passed into his land had shed their memories to him, and he had but to look.

So he searched for the answers, and found them revealed to him an inch at a time.