Name: shadowsong26
Story: Putting the Pieces Together
'Verse: Feredar
Colors: French Grey #22. One drawback of an active mind is that one can always conceive alternate explanations which would make our scent a false one., Patriarch Purple #15. black hand, Cinnabar #12. Purify
Supplies and Materials: photography, eraser (Nellid AU), brush (inimical), acrylic, stain, novelty beads (900 words), glitter ("People aren’t either wicked or noble. They’re like chef’s salads, with good things and bad things chopped and mixed together in a vinaigrette of confusion and conflict." – Lemony Snicket, The Grim Grotto), glue ("Your friends may caution you about the dangers of taking the easy way out of your responsibilities. Nevertheless, your mind is not on work today; your thoughts are consumed by a variety of more intriguing options...The trick is to find a middle ground so you don't go overboard.")
Word Count: 900
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Nida
Warnings: References to near-death of an infant and anti-mage policy in Feredar, oblique references to blood-magic, discussion of using people as bait/pawns
Notes: Constructive criticism welcome, as always. Because there is no such thing as too many AUs. This takes place in an alternate 956 FY.


It took Nida nearly two weeks to put the pieces together.

Before that, she had been simply overjoyed, that their doctor had so misjudged the problem in her son’s heart. True, her Nellid would probably never be entirely well, he would be fragile all his life; but he would have a life, when, at first, they’d been told he wouldn’t last the night. A heady feeling, that relief and joy, and every morning her youngest son still breathed brought it sweeping back like the tide.

Of course, every day, the second diagnosis also felt more real. And more confusing. Their doctor had been with them for her entire marriage, through every one of her pregnancies and deliveries, through all the mild illnesses and accidents of childhood. He had never made a mistake this drastic before. As grateful as she was for the reprieve…

She started to get suspicious. She went over every second of Nellid’s birth, in her head with a fine-toothed comb. Something didn’t add up right, and she needed to find it. She didn’t think it was a threat, not exactly, but it had to be important. And, whatever it was, her son’s life might hang in the balance.

Everything was, to her recollection, frustratingly normal. Nothing was different from any of her other six deliveries. Except…

…no. No, it couldn’t be.

There had been a girl, recently attached to her service. She was young, thirteen or fourteen, just barely old enough to be there. She had been fetching and carrying things, and, for a moment, after the doctor left, before Sorell had come to sit with them, she had stood next to the cradle, toying with her hands. And after she had done it, Nellid seemed to breathe easier. Nida was sure of it.

Nida had been fairly certain, before this, that Rema had used what contacts she had to get the child her position. She’d assumed it was for the obvious reasons--basic spying, reporting on her and her family. It wasn’t unheard of, even from nobles far less underhanded than her sister, to do such things. Certainly it wouldn't be the first time Rema had tried to install a spy since their falling-out three years ago. And that, she could have accepted. But with this new information…

Now, she was positive. And furious.

Yes, the girl had saved her son, so of course she would protect her, but--gods, she would need such protection, if she really was what Nida thought. And the fact that Rema had sent her--the Queen knew how manipulative her sister was. She knew Rema wanted her to take a more active role in the Movement. But to do it this way--sending an uncollared mage, a blood-mage, to join her household…Nida knew her sister was conniving, and perhaps growing desperate at her own continued silence. But she’d never dreamed Rema could be that cruel, especially not to one of the people she was sworn to protect.

Even if she wanted to, though, Nida could hardly repudiate the girl now. People would ask questions. They might learn what she was. Because of her Thread, they would find a way to execute her, rather than collaring her--blood-mages were, according to popular wisdom (even in the most enlightened circles), irredeemable monsters.

And, of course, they would start to wonder exactly what the Queen knew. The old scandal, her other sister’s disgrace and treason and imprisonment, would be brought up again, and Nida wasn’t entirely certain she could weather it twice. However much her husband adored her.

There was a chance the poor child would be uncovered regardless, but without overt action on her part to draw attention, Nida could maintain plausible deniability, and keep her position, and hopefully have enough room to maneuver to extract her before she could be harmed.

But to do that, she would need to reestablish her Movement ties. And that meant going back on the razor-edge where she'd lived the first decade of her marriage.

Rema had her. It was simple. There was no way Nida could escape her trap. Not without destroying everything she’d built, and getting an innocent girl killed, or worse. However the child had come to her household, however much Nida resented that, she had done nothing wrong. And she was the reason Nellid was alive. Of course Nida would protect her, in any way she could.

But she would not play Rema’s game. Her sister was good, but Nida, out of practice though she was, had at least as much talent for subterfuge. And she had other contacts. She would return to active work for the Movement, but she would not be her sister’s puppet. Never again.

Now that she was calmer, however, she had to admit that she might be overthinking the situation. She might be jumping to the wrong conclusion. Perhaps she had been right before, and Rema wasn’t so cruel. Perhaps her doctor had made a mistake.

So, her first step then had to be to confirm it. Find a way to speak to the girl without terrifying her, or being overheard by the wrong person. Neither would be easy, and both together…

What a fine mess you’ve made for me, sister, she thought grimly. Gods help us all if I can’t untangle it without an explosion.