Of Songs and Sighs
Thirteenth Day of the Third Month 294 AC
Though Balerion's great wings could have carried him to Upland where Mullendore Keep stood in hours the dragon could not fly so swift over the lands where he had reigned supreme, the king's familiar could not allow him to do so for the rest of their company had to keep up by their own magics. As she flew through the darkening evening Rina was glad of that fact, for the chance to think and know her own mind on what lay ahead.
Fey I am, yet since the day I took this mantle I have not stepped into that realm.
Would it feel different, she wondered.
Would she suddenly feel more at home under false sun and witch moon than under mortal skies? When she had asked Moonsong that very question not so long ago the fey captain had replied: "Well I'm not sure about false sun, but you could use the real one with how pale you're looking. White as a ghost..."
Rina had briefly contemplated freezing her wings midflight... just a touch.
Why does she always have to make a jape of things? Because it is her nature, came the uncomfortable answer. She shook it off in the rush of the wind. Moonsong did not deserve any excuse for being annoying. She did it too well.
***
By the time they had reached the keep and the burial ground behind the waterfall Rina had allowed her frustration with the liminal spirit to still like ripples on the surface of a pond. And soon enough they had more than enough trouble to deal with without having to borrow more. The delving upon the mountain's peak was there, fanciful carvings of birds and beasts, sages and fools, merriment and chaos all veiled in vagrant mosses and blooming vines, but at the thousand and one windows not a single light burned and in the still air not a sound could be heard.
"Well, looks like they decided to vote with their heels," the King's apprentice laughed. "Having a look at old Army Burner over there I can't say I blame 'em exactly," he nodded towards Balerion as he snorted inky black smoke through his nostrils.
Still, no one challenged them and Moonsong's own challenge hurled from on high demanding to see the Lady of the Violet Court remained unanswered. Then from somewhere within a harp could be heard, soft like summer rain, yet clear and without fault in the ear and mind alike.
"
Fossegrim," the King's familiar hissed a moment before Rina would have identified the dark trickster's magic. "The real question is if this is a trap or an offer. If the court did decamp they could not have taken everything of worth here, nor for that matter the memory of the stones that would allow us to scry them."
"Why would any of them stay around if not to fight?" Asha Greyjoy asked. From the way she touched the haft of her axe she clearly didn't dislike the concept.
"To join with the victor, some of the Reds are doing it already," Moonsong picked up the answer as she landed. "Red Court fey I mean, not the mortal priests who wear it. We need more names for colors."
"I can divine our future if you'll give me a few moments," Rina offered. The answer was not the most surprising as it might have been, though it was troublesome.
Broken and dark lies the Realm of Mirrors
Into the depths they march, companions of fear
Threads of old does bleak necessity sheers
Aid and hinging upon the mercy of one's peer
"So they moved into the depths of the Feywild to lick their wounds too," Theon Greyjoy mused, rubbing his chin with a slight scrapping over the stubble that might one distant day be a beard. "Do you think we should warn the others not to take any Violet Court spirits in?"
"Not our business," his sister shrugged. "The question is if we aught to loot this place as is or start trying to track the runaway fey."
What does Viserys decide?
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OOC: Strangely enough it's the middling dice rolls that are among the hardest to bring to page, as what happened with this chapter. 
