Kosh learned a significant amount of Drow speech from Aldiirn, so it was only fair that he taught some Infernal in response. The only downside was that Aldiirn was far better at learning Infernal than Kosh was at learning Drowic. At least he could mangle his way through some civil greetings and a few important phrases and words.

He was certain his grammar sucked. He could tell by the way Aldiirn kept politely wincing.

The Drow - Elistraeians - were polite about it too, but there were also little winces. They knew he was trying his best. Earning a peace between Whitekeep and its new neighbour was tricky, to say the least of it.

That was one good thing in the middle of the woes. Making sure his Barons behaved, restructuring the tax system. Cordelia was ill, yet insisting all was in perfect working order. He'd whispered about it to Cumulous, who told him he was being an idiot.

The Elistraeians were amenable to trade, and against slavery. Good news for him, good news for Whitekeep, and probably better news for the Drow. Whitekeep had a vile antagony when faced with slavers. The last thing he needed was war.

Well. Second-last thing.

He didn't need to be fretting himself grey over Cordelia's illness. Nor did he need to see his son turning up to training with signs of another sickness.

He'd just got a family and a loving wife and the alleged security of being an Earl in their own realm. Having the two closest to him fall sick might just let him assume he was cursed. Kosh knew damned well that nobody could get close enough to poison either his beloved Delia nor Aldiirn. And they both used the little charms he'd given them to warn and guard against such things.

Like fuck was he going to let an assassin's attempt splash on his dearest people.

"Liebe... you're not well." He knelt to test Aldiirn's brow and cheeks. Hot. Clammy.

"I'll be fine," he murmured. "I won't be a burden. Don't worry."

"You're never a burden," he said. He scooped up his son and, since Cumulous was busy seeing to Delia, he went to the next biggest experts. The undercity of Gloomstalk.

He didn't bother to change from his Shadow Arts uniform. He barely took the time to tell his seneschal, Hanagon, where he was going. He ran. Down and down, through the rooms excavated from the living stone of the mountain. Down through the catacombs. Down through the freshest tunnels that lead to a far more amenable meeting spot in Gloomstalk.

He didn't have an appointment to burst from the carved embassy, so none of the people who normally worked there were prepared. He must have terrified a lot of them.

Kosh stopped by the first non-busy Drow and instantly forgot everything of Drowic he had learned. He reverted to the language he used the longest - Zemnian. "Hilfe! Mein kleiner Junge ist krank!"

They clearly did not understand.

He scrambled for the right words. "Baby. Baby me. Much well not baby me. For permission? Permission?"

The Drow woman managed to filter those words into some kind of meaning and moved to take Aldiirn from Kosh's arms.

He flinched away. "Baby me! Baby me!"

She kept her voice gentle and soft, and guided him along by his elbow.

"Much well not," he repeated. "Fear big. Baby me want remain."

The temple was devoted to the Masked Dancer. Known variously as the Masked Lord or Vhaeraun. Kosh, devoted to Tyr, knew that any given god was only as good as their worshippers. These people were good people, and the Dancer was a god of life and light.

He could trust this temple.

The Cleric wore only a mask and a loincloth, and kept his pale hair so long that it trailed after him like some bizarre serpent. But he also had a soothing tone and soft gentle hands.

Kosh was still weeping with worry even after a solid dose of Calm Emotion. Prayers to Tyr fell out of him in a tangled babble, for all that the blind old git never responded.

I don't mind my own suffering, for all that it's unearned, he thought. But don't you dare let those I love suffer because of me or we are going to have PROBLEMS after I die. I'm due to be set in your scales before you send me to the hells, no matter how you've already doomed me. If you allow this little one to come to harm, I owe you more than a broken fucking nose.

Gentle hands and soothing tones guided him to lay Aldiirn in a cot, but could not make him let go. The best compromise Kosh was capable of was holding his son's hand while staying as much out of the way as he could.

Elistraeian prayer involved dance, to a greater or lesser extent. Kosh could at least hum along with the refrain, but leaving Aldiirn to twirl with the priest? Unthinkable. He was not turning his back on his child.

The soft glow of healing magic settled over Aldiirn, and his fever broke in a small wash of sweat.

The nearly nude priest had some hurried words as soon as it was clear that Aldiirn could understand them.

"He says," murmured Aldiirn, "that you are allowed to let go. They will not steal me from you."

"Baby me," Kosh repeated. Then, in Common, "My baby. I look after him."

The Cleric had a very eloquent way of rolling his eyes.

Aldiirn had tears in his own eyes.

"Was ist das?" Kosh cooed, automatically drying Aldiirn's dear little face with his kerchief. "Are you still hurting?"

"No. Not... physically. It's okay. I don't mind staying here. They're good people and I can still translate for you."

"It's just a little illness, ja?" Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was a Drow or half-blooded thing that meant Aldiirn had to stay in the safety of the Underdark. "Ask Herr Skyclad here if this is a serious malady. I'm not leaving you if I can help it."

"But you have to," said Aldiirn, almost whispering. "You won't want me after your own baby is born."

Kosh hit a brick wall of non-understanding. He comprehended each and every word Aldiirn said, but... together, they made no sense. "Liebchen, I stole you away from a nest of cruelty. I threatened war to keep you. I am not giving you up without a fight." The ache in his heart would not go away. "Not unless it's your health at stake, and even then I'll find a way to care for you and the verdammt realm."

Aldiirn patted his hand. Tried to display sympathy despite what looked like a breaking heart. "It's easier this way. Once Spring comes by, you'll forget all about me and I'll just... not be important any more."

"And what's happening in Spring besides Icebreak Festival?"

An aggravated sigh. "That's when Mistress Cordelia's giving birth to your heir."

Wait. What. Wait. What? "Horseshit. Nobles don't have heirs for at least five years. It takes them that long to like each other enough to--" Wait... "I have been an idiot, haven't I? And I let you think-- Gotts!" He snatched his son up and hugged the stuffing out of him. "You are my son. I don't give two shits that you're not from my body. And when your baby sibling is born, you will be part of the naming ceremony. You will always have a place in Whitekeep."

He kept his word. He always kept his word. Even when it became uncomfortable, even when it was inconvenient. Even when it was downright painful... He kept his word.

Even when the healers announced that Whitekeep's winters were too hard on Aldiirn and the boy would have to spend a season in the more stable climate of the Underdark.

Well... Winter was effectively the off season anyway. The public didn't expect much from their Earl except the occasional public appearance. He could spend more of his time learning Drowic by immersion.

Things changed so fast that Aldiirn was pretty much permanently dizzy. Or it could be the altitude of the castle grounds. The messy politicking had spread out over half the winter, during which Valiant -better known as that asshole- attempted to block everything Kosh wanted. Which included the wedding and Aldiirn's adoption.

Well. The finalisation of the adoption.

"I'm still the Earl until the official crowning," that asshole grumbled. "I can forbid that halfbreed's insertion by edict if I have to."

"Fine," said Kosh, "Then I'm hiring him as my herald." It was telling that he already had the note cards already written. Which he handed to Aldiirn in one smooth motion. "He'll go with me everywhere I go and announce me to every room I enter. Nice loud voice, Junge. So the whole hall can hear."

Aldiirn did his best, surprising himself with his own volume. He would later learn that Kosh assisted with a little Thaumaturgy. "Announcing his lordship, the Viscount and Earl-in-Waiting, Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep, ninth of the name! Trueborn and firstborn son of the ex Earl Valiant Stormwight Hallow--"

"All right! All right!" That asshole could clearly picture an entire winter's worth of that happening every day. "Fine! I'll endorse the devil-cursed fucking adoption."

That was only the starting lesson in what Kosh called Zen and the Art of Being a Little Shit. Alongside the more usual lessons in the Art of Shadows. They were all important lessons. How to hide in plain sight. How to let people assume. How to tell the truth but leave enough gaps so that it might as well be lying. Some things need not be mentioned, after all.

And the first lesson Kosh had learned about being an outcast: "The first Tiefling I met passed on this wisdom to me: there's two ways to go when the world's decided to hate you because of how you look. You either roll in it, and be worse than everything they say you are, or try your heart and soul out in showing them otherwise. I found a third option - Say what they're thinking of saying and throw it in their faces, and then do what I believe to be the right thing anyway. Fuck their opinion."

There were other snippets of wisdom, such as, "It's always ethical to steal from the Zhents. They're rotten slavers. People who value coin above people deserve to have neither." Or, "Be careful what you promise, people might hold you to your word."

For someone who swore a binding oath of honesty and forthrightness, Kosh was a very devious fellow. The other surprising factor was that he was a devotee of Tyr, the god of justice. Apprently, so he could punch the deity in the nose for "not doing his fucking job."

He was a complicated man. But he was also a parent from skin to bone and beyond. With a strong tendency to worry and fuss.

Even at the celebratory feasts, Kosh made sure Aldiirn's meals were thoroughly vegetarian, and sought the scientific explanation as to why meat made him sick. Nobody'd looked for a reason, before. Nobody'd worried about consequences from those reasons.

Nobody bothered to ask if he wanted a job he was clearly needed for.

Aldiirn was in the middle of learning more mainstream topics when Kosh appeared in the classroom doorway. The Tiefling's face said bad news, and Aldiirn reflexively reverted to Alean Micaror Survival Tactics. Be small, don't make eye contact, and brace for the pain.

He was still getting used to the concept that that sort of thing was no longer necessary.

Kosh carefully knelt in Aldiirn's eyeline. "You're safe, liebchen. It's not a problem about you. It's a problem that may need you. If you're willing."

A ruler. A lord of the land... was on his knees for Aldiirn.

His adopted father was asking for his help.

Aldiirn summoned voice enough to murmur, "What's happened?"

"Miners in the Barony of Paron have... well. They accidentally broke through into some poor soul's bathroom. On one hand, Whitekeep has a new connection to the Underdark, but... eh. None of the Drow down there know a word of the surface tongues. You, liebe, are the nearest person I could ask. Will you help?"

Not, you will help. Not, you are doing this or else. It was, do you want to?

How could he not?

Aldiirn would do this with his doll in one fist and his flute in the other. Terrified out of his wits, but reassured that Kosh would have one comforting hand on Aldiirn's shoulder.

It was incredibly telling that the first words from the new ambassador were, "I will not harm you nor your family, little one."

Kosh had his pack on his back and his son in his arms as the skyship manoeuvred to dock with the west tower of the castle. "You hold tight to me and I'll hold tight to you. And we'll get a fish together." He turned to his crew, his brother, and his fiancee, all waiting on the deck. "I really can't wait for all this horseshit. See you inside the old heap." And then he stepped off the railing.

Spitebane, bless him, screamed and ran for the railing. He had bootless howls of outrage when he realised that Kosh was slowing his fall.

Lady Cordelia, gods protect her, simply called out, "Don't find any trouble before it's lost!"

He saluted, "I will certainly try."

It wasn't hard to find a vendor willing to let a father and son watch their fish pastries being made. Aldiirn got one filled with pumpkin paste and assorted vegetables. Kosh got the more traditional sweet goat stew. Both embellished with sugar syrup in the press to make them shiny.

"Every good child of Whitekeep deserves a fish," Kosh lectured, "Let this be the first of many for you, eh?"

Both he and Aldiirn got a bit sticky on the way to the main entrance of the castle. Where people of all colours and creeds could take a tour of the Grand Court Room, and see the Blood Throne. The tour cost two coppers each, and the lecture of the guide was mildly educational.

He used Aldiirn's sticky face as an excuse to duck down below the guide's line of sight as she explained the fretwork in the galleries. Allegedly to clean Aldiirn's face.

"You have your flute ready to calm everyone down. Including yourself. Seeing the light of a true Earl? It scared the piss out of me the first time. Just remember. It's only light. It won't hurt you. Ready?"

He waited for Aldiirn's nod.

Double speed. Dash past the guards at the dias before they could react. Ignore the guide yelling, "Sir? You can't touch that!" And then land ass-first in the chair.

People screamed.

He opened his eyes.

Blood red light. Terrifying to all those unprepared.

The guards were all Whitekeep born. They knew what it meant when a Tiefling lit the Blood Throne. They were hails and huzzahs, and Aldiirn playing as prompted. Even though the boy was also terrified.

That was enough. He stood and announced himself. Still a Viscount, no matter what the chair said. It was up to his father the Earl to cede power, though he doubted the old man would.

Not easily, anyway.

He had just enough time to scoop Aldiirn into his arms before Earl Valiant, his entourage, and a cordon of Castle Guards barrelled into the room.

Kosh grinned for him. "Hallo, Papa. Time for the dirty laundry to be aired, nein?"

"You dare attempt to usurp me?"

"Of course not," he singsonged. "Just light the throne brighter and deeper and I'll be happy to take my rightful place as your heir."

He did not. Very telling. Especially in front of witnesses. This was going to be publically messy, and a lot of fun to watch. Probably from a safe distance.

Both Waterdeep and Alean Micaror had decided to assist Lord Kormwind's journey to the mountain fastness of Whitekeep. The result was the most expeditious retreat that Aldiirn had ever seen. Flying on an airship should have been exciting but... Aldiirn was just ill.

Altitude.

The Marchess and the Aarakokra both helped as much as they could. Taking turns to run a restoration on him. At least it gave him some relief. As for the evenings...

Kosh guided him through meditation.

Sitting comfortably, they took up opposite corners of Kosh's mat.

"Breathe in," he always began. "Focus on the feel of air entering your lungs. Acknowledge the space it takes within your ribs. Breathe out. Slowly as you can. Know the relief that happens as a result of holding that breath. Yes, the air is thin. Yes, it feels wrong, compared to what you're used to. Breathe. Know that there is enough air. Feel your weight pressing on the mat. Feel the mat pressing back. Breathe. Feel your heartbeat as you listen to the wind. Hear the creak of the ship. Know its rhythms. Breathe. Feel the air on your skin. The small drafts of another's breath, of your own breath. The small movements of the world around you. Breathe. Hear the crew going about their business."

Kosh's voice faded out of Aldiirn's awareness. As did the sensation of his weight on the mat. He was aware of the world, and at peace with it.

Which was a big deal for him.

Breathe.

At peace.

Serene.

He opened his eyes, and it was dawn. Kosh already had his hakama on and was going through his morning kata. Aldiirn realised he was floating, and quickly lost the levitation with his alarm. The mat cushioned his fall.

"Good morning," said Kosh. "That went amazingly well. I do like a quick study. Feeling any better?"

Apart from the light bruise in his bottom... yes. Aldiirn nodded. "Yes. That was... amazing. I've never been able to trance like that before." He rose and began his own kata. Feeling more centred. More balanced. He could almost feel the qi flowing.

"If those assholes tried to teach you how to trance, I doubt they bothered with teaching you like a half-elf. Another mark against them now that I don't need it. I taught myself with methods described for Humans raising little ones like you."

He'd never asked about Kosh's habits. "Why?"

"Nightmares. I was plagued with them. Some folk wear their worries on the outside, and ask for help. Others... keep it behind a mask," a brief flash of his menacing false smile. "They hide their hurts, mostly because they don't expect help. And they do whatever they can to put ease to their agonies."

"That's what you do," said Aldiirn.

"You didn't expect help, either. You got to the point where you distrusted it." He finished his exercises and started donning his gi. "I know the look of it, and I think you would too." And there it was. That look. Expecting pain and knowing nobody would soothe it. "Liebe... I hope to get married to the Lady Cordelia."

"I think she will. You make each other happy."

"It doesn't mean I'll stop loving you at all. I will still be-- wait. Was?"

Aldiirn couldn't help smiling. "You're happy with her, and she's just as happy with you. And... she put herself in the path of harm just to rescue me. And she's just as gentle and kind as you are. The two of you are scarier than anyone who hurt me, but... I know neither of you will hurt me. Ever. And she's nice and I like her."

Kosh had Aldiirn up in a hug, lifting him from his place. Covering his cheeks with kisses. "You are the best child I have ever stolen."

He had to giggle. "I'm the only child you've stolen."

"True," Kosh put him down and absently tidied a strand of hair. "I might have to steal other children so I can compare and contrast."

He was silly, and fun when he wasn't in danger. Aldiirn followed him out to the deck of the skyship, but stayed away from the railing. It was a long way down to the patchwork of fields and forests. Kosh had no fears, not only looking out from the prow, but standing on it and dangling off the rigging as if that could somehow get him to his destination further.

He was fine. He could slow his fall with a breath.

Aldiirn had yet to learn and perfect that skill. Further, he was more used to rock over his head than blue sky and clouds.

"There's Trispire Mountain," said Kosh, pointing out the peaks. From this distance, the cities on it looked like some weird variety of spreading lichen. "Gotts. This is the first time I've actually seen it." He hopped back on deck. "When they sent me out, I was locked in a palanquin. I could only see the world through little slits, and my nurse never liked me gawking." He was rambling. Fretting. Trying to distract himself from something he didn't want to face. Something bigger than his worries for Aldiirn.

Aldiirn waited. People liked to fill silence with words.

"Mein vater is not a nice man," Kosh said. "I was six when he sent me to the other side of the world. Gods know how he's going to act around you... but I can guarantee he'll try something because you're someone I want in my life. He'll probably hang my wedding over my head, too. Use and abuse his power... And test me to be sure I'm really who I am."

"How would he do that?"

Kosh explained the family curse. Once upon a time, there was a Warlock who thought he was clever. Ever since, the Whitekeep line had been host to exactly one blue Tiefling -once in a great long while- who then became the Demon Lord of Whitekeep. And since every bastard of the Whitekeeps was also born blue and with horns, there was the Blood Throne. Only the best to rule in the bloodline could light it red. All the bastards could do was light it white.

"So all you have to do is sit on it?" said Aldiirn.

"Ja. And he'll want to keep it secret. Just in case that verdammt chair decides I should be in charge."

Aldiirn said, "Why not make it public?"

Which earned him a kiss to his brow and a generous hug. "Kluges kind. That's earned you a fish for sure."

What?

It had been  a bumpy start, learning how to be the surprise single parent of a seven-year-old half-drow with anxiety issues. Whilst also running a bar and doing some Adventuring on the side.

Aldiirn wouldn't eat unless someone -preferably Kosh- tasted it while he watched to prove it wasn't poisoned. This only lowered Kosh's opinion of his former hosts. He refused to call them 'guardians' as they didn't guard him from shit. The kid also had a high degree of separation anxiety, to the point of crawling from his nice warm bed to nestle beside Kosh or sprawl across his lap.

He eventually figured out it was easier to set up his mat beside Aldiirn's cot so the boy could just reach out and touch his reassurance. Aldiirn had witnessed Kosh being ready and willing to fight the world, nearly naked, at fuck-off in the morning and that had left him with a lasting impression.

Two weeks of gentle encouragement got the little boy to open up to the point of carrying on a conversation, and Aldiirn was a smash hit in the Tavern. He'd jam with any local Bards as they blew in and the tip jar had never been fuller.

Aldiirn would still clam up and avoid eye contact with anyone he recognised as female. Reverting to key Underdark survival tactics if anyone pressed that point. The Bards, the staff, and the regulars in the Trollhead recognised this, and more than one had sworn to protect the boy with their lives.

If he wasn't flourishing, yet, he was on his way.

And then the fucking Drow decided to legally sue for custody, on pain of restarting an old war. Evidently, their attempt to kidnap Aldiirn back had been such a ludicrous failure that they had to resort to legal threats and sabre rattling.

On one hand, he got to see the Lady more often, as she came to Cumulous for Druiding Lessons in the interim. And Aldiirn was a lot more comfortable with her since she rescued him.

On the other hand... there was a very real risk that the courts would send Aldiirn back into his former living hell.

It was his turn in the dock. Under a Zone of Truth, and several other spells that compelled him to be honest. Spitebane and the crew were watching from a closer gallery than the Lady. A good thing, too. His brother might recognise her as the 'lost' Marchess Bellarin. That would start another pile of trouble that he didn't want to be buried under.

This was trouble enough.

"Explain to us how you invaded our territory," demanded the Drow advocate.

"I didn't invade, I was captured," said Kosh. "I'd fallen through a weak floor and landed in the water. My only option was to strike out for the shore. It was pitch black, so I didn't have many options."

"And then you dominated our soldiers to steal one of our precious children away."

"Nein, I was clapped in chains and thrown into a room. My only guard for a significant time was der kinder. Who was threatened by one of your soldiers if he fell asleep."

The Drow was incensed. "Your honour, I move to have the Tiefling treated as a hostile witness."

Verdammt right, he was hostile. Kosh held back on growling and baring his teeth. He might frighten Aldiirn, currently safe under a very severe cordon of the City Guard.

"What's the matter?" Kosh taunted. "Are Drow afraid of the truth?"

"I want these spells double-checked. Everyone knows those things can't tell the truth!"

"Then why bother having me up here?" he demanded.

The advocate cast another truth spell. "Why did you steal our precious child from us?"

It had no effect because he'd always been telling the truth. "I saw a half-starved and terrified child. He was unwashed, unfed, and uncared for. His clothes were dirty and torn, he was exhausted... And nobody there cared for him at all. He was clearly neglected, and I had to act."

"You interrupted his training!"

"What kind of training involves criminal neglect?"

"Who do you think you are, telling us how to raise a child?"

Oh fuck. He really wished the advocate hadn't said that. The compelled truth spilled out of him. "I am the Lord Viscount Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep, ninth of the name," he began.

The crew, to an Adventurer, yawped, "What?"

"Trueborn and firstborn son of the Earl Valiant Stormwight Hallowfine Whitekeep, and the Countess-consort Emmalaina Velvet Diamante Whitekeep."

There was a shriek from the upper gallery where the Lady had been sitting. An inarticulate noise of shock and awe from Spitebane. His baby brother.

All of his puff titles spilled out of him, and he felt like his world was burning. He finally reached, "...and humble saviour of Voon." He followed it up with, "Thanks a lot, asshole. You just killed me with that question. I barely survived the last assassin, and they were able to get into a Dojo of the Shadow Arts. The next attack is going to fucking splash! It'll hit everyone I love and care for. My crew, my son..." he dared not mention the Lady, who had run off from her perch in the upper gallery. "And my brother. My father's favourite. You wanted to threaten a war with a city state? How do you feel about war with an entire fucking Earldom? And all their allies? And their fucking allies?"

The Drow were very suddenly less assured of their position. The advocate looked to his matriarch, who was very quietly panicking in the middle of her own trained guard. She made a universal gesture that said, how the fuck was I supposed to know about that?

While they were having an urgent deliberation, Kosh turned his attention to Lord Silverhand's advocate. "Any further questions?"

Spitebane, in the Noble's gallery, was repeatedly mouthing, I have a brother, at varying levels of incredulity.

"Oh you have an older brother, Junge."

"Let me pass! I have questions," the Lady squirmed past the guards. Half fury and half righteous indignation.

Even though his hope of loving her was dead and burning to ash, he still felt his heart bend her way. She. Was. Glorious. He couldn't not fall in love with her. He couldn't not be in love with her.

He blurted, "M'lady, your fiancee is in the room."

She snapped, "M'lord, my fiancee is standing in the dock. Step down for a moment, if you please."

"Yes, ma'am," he made it halfway to Aldiirn, with a mind to reassuring his boy, when what was said sunk in. He was poleaxed by those words. His mouth agape in shock.

Aldiirn could see his entire mouth full of sharp!

He clapped his hands over his mouth the instant he realised. Part of him wanted to scream with joy. Another part of him had leaped to the truth - She would rather eat broken glass and chase it with wyvern venom than have anything at all to do with Whitekeep... and he was a Whitekeep.

"I call upon the Mother-Queen Tythanie of Alean Micaror," said the Lady. "Enter the dock and speak the truth before all."

Betrothed or not, she wouldn't want a Whitekeep. She didn't want Spitebane, and she despised Valiant. Why would she want a Tiefling... a monster like him?

And he loved her enough to gift her her own freedom.

Aldiirn pulled one of his hands down to hold and pat it. He'd also heard every word she'd said.

Behind him, the Lady began destroying Alean Micaror.

"Who was responsible for Aldiirn's care and wellbeing?" she asked.

Tythanie stammered, "I would have to consult my records, I do not have that information ready to hand."

"Would you consider any caregivers in your clan to be exemplary at childrearing?"

"Of course they are! We pride ourselves on raising the best warriors that Drowkind have ever known!"

"Then why was Aldiirn starving under your care?"

"Er."

"How did his hair become so matted that it was nearly solid?"

"Uhm."

"Why was he dressed in rags?"

"Now hold on a moment..."

"Why is he afraid of women?"

The Mother-Queen snapped. "Because he's a weak little mongrel and doesn't deserve any coddling! He is blessed to be gifted our hospitality! Every scrap of food he took was stolen from the mouths of more worthy daughters and sons of Lolth! Every minute spent on him is a waste! He is worthy only as meat for the spiders!"

Silence reigned. It practically flooded the room, drowning them all.

"Then why," whispered the Lady, heard by all, "did you risk a war to get him back?"

She was in a Zone of Truth.

Words poured out of her, about how Aldiirn counted for a specific tally that would grant the clan a monetary boon. If they had less children than a very specific number, then the boon would drop by half. Aldiirn was no more than a thumb on those scales.

"I suggest you get breeding," sniped the Lady. "Quickly."

Tythanie scurried back to her gallery with her head down.

"My lord Kormwind," said the Lady.

Kosh reluctantly turned. She was standing in the dock. Inside the Zone of Truth.

"I much liked you as Kochis Shaydden. In fact, I would go with you and raise your son with you. Even if it means having to withstand Spitebane and the Earl Valiant."

"I have to withstand them too," he said, but inside his heart was singing.

Gods.

He was going to have to walk through it with Aldiirn.

Cordelia had to un-learn being a Ladyship. Which had so far included an awful lot of laundry and menial tasks. Today, it was groceries, whilst learning the lexicon of the serving class. And, apparently, running into Kosh.

He was staring as if Charmed, and may have forgotten to breathe. Little Aldiirn was with him, clinging to Kosh's tail, and frozen in terror.

Poor lamb, he was terrified of women in general and Elven women in particular. He'd kept his distance from Cordelia all the way from their first meeting to their separation at Vallaster's mansion. So she kept her distance and took every possible care around the lad.

Which made things difficult, since she and Kosh liked each other.

He didn't hide his affections very well in the underdark, and he was even worse in the light of day. His yellow eyes were going goopy with adoration within seconds of her gaze meeting his.

They exchanged shy waves at each other. Twenty feet apart in a crowded street because Aldiirn was frightened. It was a pity the little boy had never warmed to her. She wanted to mother him, more than a little. He needed softness as well as security, but since he preferred security... she kept her softness to herself.

A blur of movement, and Kosh was fighting a Drow and Aldiirn was nowhere in her immediate view. A crash of boxes drew her attention to another Drow. Aldiirn clutched in their arms. They'd dodged the wrong way and tripped on a skewed cobblestone, into a stack of crates by a store.

She started running for him, throwing a potato at the Drow. Wishing she could tangle them up instead of just beaning them with a tuber. Something inside... answered her.

The potato sprouted, tangling the Drow in vines to the point where escape was impossible. She yanked Aldiirn from the mess and willed the vines to tighten. Cordelia was very surprised to find them obeying. This was... this was very much a surprise.

She pressed the convenience to her advantage. "Don't any of you or your ilk lay a finger on that boy ever again, or I will make sure they're poison vines, next!" Cordelia fought to stay upright, weirdly exhausted. She battled dizziness as she recovered Aldiirn's little Raggy Man doll from the tangle. Struggled to walk to where Kosh was kneeling to embrace his boy.

She fell, more than chose to stop, into a kneel by their side. "Here's your..." Cordelia found herself suddenly out of breath. Her arm shook with the effort of holding a child's soft toy out far enough for Aldiirn to cautiously take.

"You didn't mention you're a Druid," said Kosh, somewhere outside her darkening vision. "Fraulein?"

"...i didn' know..." she mumbled. It was getting very dark. Wasn't it supposed to be midday?

"Breathe, Fraulein. Like I showed you. Please?"

Someone was playing a flute. A beautiful melody that inspired and invigorated. Light returned. Aldiirn was playing a healing melody, his doll in the crook of his arm. Kosh, now in focus, was cautiously offering a kerchief.

She'd had a nosebleed.

"Best to stay put," said Kosh. "Here comes the Guard. There's going to be an enquiry."

In a week, there would be a full trial.

I interrupt the regularly scheduled fanfic to just go off the deep end about shit that's been hitting the fan of my life. If you missed the nonsense, it's up for free on my Patreon. I promise I'll get back to it once I'm a little emotionally better, but I really need to vent. Hence the kittens.

Everything's better with kittens.

First up, I am a kept bean. I have been supported financially, emotionally, and sometimes haptically by my Beloved. She's a hard-working programmer doing good things and the body corporate that was paying her wages went tits up an an unspecified point last year.

Good news - her side gig programming was already a registered small business. Better news - I was already working for her in the Stress Testing department. Making sure all the buttons did what they were supposed to do and that the instructions were relatively idiot proof. Sometimes, I'd even tweak the interface language. It was all good.

Bad news - it only takes one arsehole to shit all over that.

That's right. One inanimate carbon blob up and decided to ghost her on the bill and that's why my bank balance is currently in double figures.

Possibly good news... It did light a fire under me to pitch my firkin books like I was constantly saying I should. There's a CHANCE that this will supply some extra bonus income.

Definitely bad news - I get anxiety attacks whenever I send my big stuff out to the judgy people who can potentially control my income. Yes, I know it'll get easier with practice. Yes, I know the only way out is through it. YES, I know I have got this, I'm a good writer, et cetera.

Doesn't stop the old reliable head gremlins from telling me this is a delusion, I won't get anywhere, and I'm actually a useless lump of meat that's only good for menial tasks. And yes, I know they should shut the fuck up already. Working on that. Still. After forty-something years of having to deal with the little shits.

Nobody ever tells you that the bullying you endure as a kid continues on for decades after the bullying is long gone from your life. That your brain gets used to being told horrible things so it starts telling itself that shit just to keep the pattern going. And boy howdy is it rough getting that noise to stop.

There is hope on the horizon, and I have to cling to that hope with white knuckles because it's all I've got at this point. There's the new app Beloved's working on that will definitely see to a need that a great many people have. Maybe even save a few lives in the process. There's the chance that someone I'm spraying books at will like one of them and hand me an advance to joosh that thing up. [At which point I shall be a Job Creator(tm) because I know someone who's doing editing work and also needs money]

And there's the chance that the aforementioned inanimate carbon blob will need Beloved to unfuck the thing they commissioned. At which point my love will demand back pay and a double advance up front because she knows this particular blob is a cheap arsehole. No "pay you later I promise", it's payola or crayola(aka: figure it out yourself), my fine feathered fiend.

And yes I just made that up.

I make a lot of things up... but not the current crisis. That is astonishingly, heart-tighteningly real.

Reminder that you can support me financially and get stuff for it by choosing which link to follow in the menu of my Hub Site: Internutter.org - it has links to my everything I have online. Thank you, kindly.

The surface world was bright, and hurt his eyes. Kosh quickly noticed and begged sunglasses to ease Aldiirn's difficulty with the light. There had been perfumed baths, and fresh clothes, and food that Kosh dutifully tasted to ease Aldiirn's fears. And a lot of the grownups talking behind closed doors. Aldiirn was allowed to take his own peace, often playing music, under the watchful eye of unarmed guards.

He got used to concepts like dawn, or dusk, and definitely preferred bedtime. These people let him sleep. A relief from the expectations of the Underdark.

Finally, after three days as a guest of Lord Vallaster, they were going to the place where Kosh was living. A set of apartments above a tavern that he apparently had a hand in running.

Inside the front door was a common room of sorts, where three Humans, a Dragonborn, a Kobold, and an Aarakokra were attempting to plan something.

Aldiirn tried to hide behind Kosh's leg, clinging to both flute and hakama.

The tall Human with no hair and pitch-black eyes said, "Of fucking course he turns up like a stray cat."

The sole female Human in the cluster said, "Kosh? What have you got there?"

He gestured with his carry-cup of beverage, obtained further up the street. "A cider."

"The other hand," said the Kobold with a shockingly deep voice.

"Oh. This is Aldiirn. My ward. I picked him up on my way back up top." Kosh introduced each of them. Mavis, the tall black-eyed Barbarian. Kim, the softly-spoken Warlock who actually had a god on her side. The Kobold, Kelvin; the Aarakocra Druid, Cumulous; and the Dragonborn Fighter, Soola. And the third Human was the Viscount Spitebane Fortitude Bullwark Whitekeep, third of his name, trueborn son of the Earl Valiant Stormwight Hallowfine Whitekeep and his consort Emmalaina Diamante Velvet Whitekeep. "There's assorted titles, but he's the ass you've heard so much about."

"...hey," said Spitebane. "That's not fair."

"You say that so often," said Kim. "I wonder what your basis for comparison is."

Spitebane said, "Did you see any hint of the Marchess?"

Kosh didn't answer directly. He said, "She is lost to you." He lead Aldiirn on through the building. Up two flights of stairs to a narrow attic room that was almost entirely bare. The curtains blocked the view of the street below, and the floor was very clean.

"I never decorated because I never expected to stay. It's still early, so I'll get you a cot. Would you like to come pick one out?" He set up his meditation mat in a less defensible corner than the one furthest from the door. He hung the rest of his pack on a hook on the wall, and knelt by a calligraphy kit that had been left by the window. "But before we go anywhere else... Official paperwork."

Aldiirn watched, fascinated, as Kosh busied himself with brushes and inkstones in the Elven way, but wrote in the Common Tongue. First, a notice of confiscation and change of custody, declaring Aldiirn of the Underdark to be a neglected and abandoned child. Custodium per Victorium turned up in the paragraphs, as did the phrase in loco parentis. Apparently, there was a Viscount Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep, ninth of the name, who granted custody of Aldiirn to the Adventurer known as Kochis "Kosh" Shaydden, resident of Trollhead Manor, Waterdeep.

He signed it as Kormwind Arachis Felbourne Whitekeep IX. With some wax that he pressed a ring into at the bottom.

The adoption papers were similar, with Kosh signing two names instead of one. The first, Kochis Shaydden, the second was the much more florid name and more florid writing.

Aldiirn was shaking as he followed Kosh downstairs to get both documents countersigned by the Viscount Spitebane.

The Dragonborn was still hanging around, interrogating Spitebane about what had happened.

"And then she punched me right into the chocolate fountain," said Spitebane. "That was the last I saw of her."

"I mean, on one hand, good for her. On the other... you could have fucking killed her, making her run into the Underdark just to get the fuck away from you." The Dragonborn noticed them both. "Oh hey. What's this?"

"Gekommen sie, you've met Aldiirn."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you pulled that twice. The other hand."

"Just some paperwork. If you care to countersign, your lordship."

Spitebane quickly read both papers. "Oh gods, you're serious."

"As the grave. Sign it."

By then, Soola was reading it too. "Is this entirely legal?"

"Oh ja. All the way legal. Recognised in Waterdeep and Whitekeep and a decent half of Faerune."

Her next question was, "Who the fuck is Kormwind blah-de-yaddah Whitekeep?"

Kosh must have grinned, because he made sure Aldiirn couldn't see it. "Can you keep a secret?"

Suspicious glare. "Yeah...?"

"So can I." Kosh gathered the countersigned paperwork and left the residence. Cackling all the way. There was a stop to send off the official notice, and another stop to register the adoption papers, and then it was off to see who could offer what, and which ones Aldiirn liked.

Aldiirn held fast to Kosh's hand, clutching his flute tight against his chest with his other hand. Nobody around them seemed wont to jostle them or collide with them. Nobody went out of their way to trip Aldiirn nor throw anything at him.

They might have been too busy sneering at Kosh. Keeping their distance from Kosh. Maybe they didn't even see Aldiirn.

He let himself look around instead of down. Making direct eye contact in the Underdark was the sure and certain method to start a fight, and he was guaranteed to lose those. Nobody started anything because Aldiirn was looking at them. Or into their shops, for that matter. Whatever laid behind the glass was often fancy, colourful, and pretty.

How could people ignore it all?

The furnishings shop had displays of decorations set out like some fancy lord's plaything. It seemed like a waste. And on the other hand.... The purple bedclothes looked very nice. There was even a shiny velvet blanket that tempted Aldiirn into touching it.

If he touched anything, he knew, he'd ruin it.

Kosh seemed to notice. "That's a pretty colour, don't you think? It looks soft and warm."

Was he taunting Aldiirn? Was this the inevitable betrayal? Aldiirn stayed still.

"I see. If you like anything, it gets taken from you," said Kosh. "Or it gets ruined in front of you."

How did he--?

"They used to do the same to me," he said. "I refuse to play that game. I believe every child deserves good care, and I will put my last penny to that belief. So point out what you like, and I'll see what I can do."

He picked out a small bed, low to the ground, that had drawers under the mattress. And the purple velvet blanket. There were pillows and sheets and nightclothing, and new shoes. And, because Aldiirn lingered, staring, at a display, a Raggy Man doll with yarn hair.

Kosh did ask which one Aldiirn liked, pointing out a neighbour that looked more like a Drow. Aldiirn pointed his flute to the more Human-looking one, with the bright red yarn for hair and the bright red circles neighbouring its smile. It was so ridiculous that it made Aldiirn smile.

That, and the Drow one had a permanent frown.

He didn't want a toy that was always angry with him.

Kosh didn't mind if Aldiirn chose not to talk. He asked questions and patiently waited for answers. He taught things so gently, sometimes working on an idea from several angles until it got into Aldiirn's head.

Life was good.

For two weeks.

Continuing on with a fantastical distraction from the shit going on in the world.

..oOo..

Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered... they made their way into Lord Vallaster's cellar. And accidentally tripped a well-hidden Silent Alarm. So well hidden that even his own paranoia didn't spot it.

His first alert that something was about to go pear-shaped was the rhythmic clanking of a Household Guard double-timing it to their location.

"It's going to be all right," he soothed. "Just put all the weapons down and assume the position. M'lady? Best pull rank and put us under your diplomatic flag until further notice." After all, a Marchess outranked a Viscount. He'd pull rank too, if he had to. Beg the protection of the Harpers. This was more important than the dubious protection of remaining incognito.

Another life was at stake besides his own.

"Aldiirn... try to stay calm. If they push you around, go limp." Kosh knew far too well how Tieflings were treated. Above the same as below.

The Marchess recited the right words and the guards still put Kosh in shackles. They didn't lock up Aldiirn, thank the shiftless gods. Just dragged everyone to a sunny parlour where the Lord Vallaster was bleary-eyed and in bunny slippers. His lordship didn't often rise before ten and it was apparently just past dawn.

"Lady Cordelia," said Vallaster, accepting a cup of coffee. "You've brought unexpected company."

"I've relied on this unexpected company for a majority of my escape from the Midsummer Ball. In fact, I trust them with my life."

"A Tiefling and a half-Drow child," Vallaster raised an eyebrow.

Kosh aimed his pointy smile at Vallaster. "Say it with more of a sneer, m'lord. Tell me how you really feel." He felt, more than saw, poor Aldiirn cower in place. Poor kid. Kosh would have to spare the time to get him used to all the ways in which this Tiefling rebelled against everyone else's habitual prejudice.

"I certainly trust them more than I could ever trust Whitekeep," said the lady.

Ouch. He didn't want to admit that he'd fallen a little in love with her, but that one... hurt. Yes, she had no love for his brother, but for all the land? That really hurt.

She went on to say, "I'd sooner bathe in boiling lava than go anywhere near any of it. Or put my faith in anyone from there."

Focus. Breathe. Just give up hope of ever seeing her again. It'd be easier. Kosh put his effort back into picking the shackles, trying not to growl under his breath.

"All right. Understood. We can work on your concealment here. As for the matter of the Adventurer. Kosh, was it?"

"That's how my allies know me," he said. Ah. There it was. He set himself free and handed a shocked guard the shackles. "You're lucky I'm with the Harpers. You have a superior grade of restraints, by the way. Took me five times longer than usual."

"Stand down," Vallaster told the guards. "If he wanted to kill me, I'd already be dead."

Kosh breathed a sigh of relief. "So nice to meet a smart Noble. M'lady here is the only other in this entire verdammt city, I swear."

"Thank you," said both Nobles.

Valaster asked, "About the child?"

"He's mine. I stole him fair and square. Custodium per Victoriam."

"Veni, vidi, cepi?" asked the lady.

"More or less. To be fair, they captured me first. Then I saw Aldiirn, here, in a state of considerable neglect and decided to take matters into my own hands, and him under my wing. You saw how long it took to get all those knots out of his hair."

"It was matted," added the Marchess.

Vallaster was wincing. "We must be prepared for this to cause... a ruckus. There's an uneasy peace between the surface and the Undercity."

"I can obtain legal documents declaring custody," said Kosh. "Official seals and all. I'll have to piss off the Earl, but that's nothing new."

"I am heartily in favour of annoying the Earl of Whitekeep," said the Marchess. "I met him once, and that was once too often." She had dimples when she smiled. Gods save his shattered heart. Dimples! "How do you plan to vex him?"

"Oh, I'll be legally requesting a single parent's pension. Since..." ah shit. Here it came. The killer of the mood. "I'm... legally... still a citizen of his realm."

She said, "Oh noooo..." behind her hands. "And I said all those things."

"I know your anger wasn't with me. My place in Whitekeep is... it will be trouble for you."

Since I started writing this fic, MisterCrowbar and we have been throwing our respective art at each other. Fic for drawings and vice versa.

...oOo...

Aldiirn didn't trust in the kindness of strangers. He barely knew what kindness was. It was something he was lucky to get and often came with pain. This Tiefling stranger had been kinder than anyone Aldiirn knew. Aldiirn had no idea what his motives were, but for the moment, he had food, and sleep. What the pain would be would have to be seen. And whether or not it was worth it.

What worried him was that the Tiefling did not complain. The closest he got to being angry was the disappointment when Vornalla called him a tief. There was no other warning and then he knocked them out.

Aldiirn had tried to be vigilant, watching the Tiefling for any hint that something was going to go bad, but he was so tired... The next thing he knew, he was being carried by the Tiefling. Cuddled as the steady pace rocked him to sleep.

The next thing he knew, the Tiefling was tucking him into a bedroll. Flute clutched tight in one fist. His expression was alien to Aldiirn.

"It's all right," the Tiefling cooed. "We're safe away. Just rest. We'll talk after a long rest."

Aldiirn fell back to sleep to the steady, metronomic mutter of, "My mind is my body, my body is mine to control. My mind is my body, my body is mine to control..." It actually helped lull him, since he knew the only other person in this room was stationary and not doing anything else.

BLAM!

Aldiirn startled awake. Flute held like a weapon. Before him, the bare, hairy legs of the Tiefling. Held in a stable, fighting stance. Guarding him? Tail low and still.

There was a Human woman on the other side of the door. She wore the remains of what had once been a very high-class dress. Carried a scimitar as if she'd never held a blade in her life. Her hair was scrawled into a single braid, and it looked like it was done badly and in a hurry.

Her makeup had run with tears. It was still doing so. Her gaze fell on Aldiirn.

"Oh no," she said. "Please, I don't want to kill anybody else..."

"Then don't," said the Tiefling.

"I didn't mean to disturb your family, sir, I needed a place of safety and I think there's Goblins after me. I'm a murderer, I killed half a dozen and I'm lost and frightened and please..."

"Marchess Bellarin, I presume?"

"How?"

"I'm with the Harpers. We're looking for you. In." He dropped his guard, but not the dagger in his hand. He guided her to a place by the old hearth, then checked outside their shelter. He shut the door and propped it shut with a length of wood.

His next act was to put his weird pants on.

Aldiirn stayed still. Stayed quiet.

"You're not being followed," said the Tiefling. "You're safe."

The Human woman had a gibbering breakdown where she sat. Settled down after what felt like too long. If Aldiirn so much as whimpered, the matriarchs would give him something real to cry about. She kept a tight grip on her scimitar.

"I suppose you're going to drag me back to that ass Whitekeep."

"Not so much," said the Tiefling. "The Harpers believe in the greater good. I've met the Viscount Spitebane, and he's very much his father's creature. If he's driven you this far to get away from him, he deserves to be deprived of your company. I much prefer people to have a choice. What would you choose?"

"I would rather eat broken glass and chase it with wyvern poison than even glimpse at anything at all related to Whitekeep for the rest of my life."

"Then I shall help you escape further. He's with the rest of my crew so... finding a different way up top should keep you clear of him."

"You go adventuring with your little one?"

Aldiirn quickly closed his eyes before the Tiefling could look.

"Ah. Nein. I picked them up along the way. Poor kinder needs a very long rest and a lot more than lembas. Deaf gods see me clear to making it happen, eh?"

He could hear the woman shuffling around with her things. "I could use a long rest too. If I may."

"Ja. Steer clear of the child, and all should be well. I get the feeling they're scared of the world right now."

"Well understood."

Aldiirn risked opening his eyes. Watched the Human woman set up a small bedroll and attempt to make herself comfortable. She propped her weapon in a corner. Inexperienced in battle. Which had to mean she was more dangerous with magic. He shivered, despite being comfortably warm in his bedroll. She could attack at any moment.

He had to watch her. Had to be on guard. Couldn't slip for a moment.

She was going to attack the instant he showed weakness.

The Tiefling settled back down on his mat, next to nude once more. Resumed mumbling, My mind is my body, my body is mine to control, over and over again.

Blink. The Human woman was curled up on the bedroll that was too small for her. The Tiefling was still mumbling.

Blink. She rolled over, but did little more. The Tiefling was still chanting.

Blink. Stillness. Snoring. Mumbling.

Blink. The Tiefling was awake, half-dressed, and shaving in a small mirror he propped up on the old hearth's mantle.

"Just the whiskers, you stupid Teufel," the Tiefling muttered. "You have a mouth to feed and a maiden to rescue. Don't be dumb. Just the whiskers." He'd tied his curls back into a simple ponytail.

Blink. The Tiefling was dressed, and had a long, thin blade against her scimitar.

Betrayal!

He knew it!

Aldiirn scrambled from his bedroll, using his flute to deflect her blade as she lunged. "DON'T!" He knew he didn't stand a chance, but he could at least delay the inevitable. He took a deep breath, and urgently played to Charm this person.

"You're all right," cooed the woman. "It's all right. We were sparring. He was teaching me."

"Look. Swords down. Kinder. Hey."

Aldiirn dared open his eyes. Empty adult hands, held in a posture of peace. But... he'd failed. He'd felt it failing. They should be attacking, right now. He braced for the impact of a fist... and yelped at the gentle touch of a kerchief.

"There, now. Sshhh..." cooed the Tiefling. Drying Aldiirn's tears. "Nobody's hurting anyone, here. I was teaching the lady how to use her sword properly. That's all. We're all safe, ja?"

The woman was keeping her distance, very carefully looking harmless. "We're overdue for introductions, aren't we? My name's Cordelia. To be precise, I am the Marchess Cordelia Maripose Heartsalve Bellarin, fourth of the name."

"I have given my name as Kochis Shaydden," said the Tiefling. "My allies call me Kosh."

They both waited. Patient.

"...'m... Aldiirn," he managed, voice barely a squeak.

"Aldiirn," said Kosh. "Pleased to meet you. If you want to freshen up, there's a privy through that little nook, and running water to wash yourself in. I also have a comb if you'd like me to see to your hair."

Aldiirn realised that he really needed the privy. When he came back, his flute had been placed in plain sight on his bedroll. Kosh was seated on his mat with the comb and some ties. There were three ration packs lying on the woman's bedroll, and the woman was standing far from them in a corner. He sat for Kosh. Braced for the usual cursing and pulling and ripping hair from his scalp.

No such pain came. Kosh carefully worked on each hank of silvery-pale hair, from end to scalp until the comb ran all the way through without catching. It started to feel... nice. Relaxing. Even as Kosh started to style it. Braiding and weaving sections together. Aldiirn almost nodded off again, but kept himself awake by watching the woman for trouble.

"There. Done," Kosh offered his mirror. "What do you think?"

Elves encoded meaning into their hair. Somehow, this devil had put meaning into Aldiirn's locks. The braids, twists, and loops said, lucky find, and, valued child, and, treasure.

Did he really know what he'd done?

"When we get up top, I'll make sure it's all legal. If you still wish to stay with me." He offered his hand.

A deal with a devil? Or wandering the Underdark until something ate him? Or, for that matter, eking out his existence in the fringes of Drow society? All things considered, there wasn't much choice. He put his hand, and his trust, into a Tiefling's custody.

"Sehr gut. Shall we resume our lesson? You can join in, too."

Nobody had taught him to fight, before. They just... expected him to. Kosh taught him how to stand, how to work a dagger properly, how to use any object as either shield or weapon.

He liked the parts where he got the woman to attack him and he fended her off in short order. Showing Aldiirn how it was done was less entertaining but essential for learning. Kosh walked them all through how to breathe, of all things, and something called the First Kata.

"Of course, naughty children in my Master's Dojo were sent to sweep as punishment for misdemeanours," Kosh elaborated. "So I tend to sweep whenever I see a broom. For my sins." a tap to one of his slightly spiralled horns to indicate where his sins lay.

Oh. Oh! He understood what it was like to be barely tolerated. To have his welfare seen to as an obligation. To be lucky he was allowed to exist.

Aldiirn's new self-appointed guardian was a fellow kindred, and outcast, spirit.

All the same, following the extended lesson of Pointy End Goes In The Bad Guy, Aldiirn kept Kosh between himself and the woman. Women were scary, even if this one was relatively harmless.

This fanfic is being simulcast on my Patreon for free. And if you want to support Mister Crowbar, their Patreon is also linked. Can highly recommend. They make beautiful pictures.

At any rate, you can't drop a picture of a sad-eyed fictional child on me without me wanting one of MY OC's to adopt them somehow and now there's an entire story about it. Created some years ago and unearthed now for your viewing pleasure. And my laziness, tbh.

Disclaimer: Larion owns BG3 and all the NPC's therein. MisterCrowbar on Tumblr owns Aldiirn, who came forth from BG3. This is therefore fandom-related crackfic. Be warned.

Summary: You can't put a pic like this in front of me and not want good things for a wet-eyed babbu [img copyright MisterCrowbar]

CW: References to child abuse and neglect

Continuity: Kosh is the Kosh I played in D&D, not the one in my novels or in BG3, though some continuities have cross-contaminated each other.

My Baby Now
InterNutter

All things considered, it could have gone better. At least his baby brother was safe. And, to the point, it could have gone worse. For instance, he could have hit his head and drowned in the river instead of summoning the breath of featherlike falling to drift softly to its surface. He'd fallen in once one sandal touched the surface, but he'd been able to strike out for a shoreline he could barely see when he landed.

Good news, he survived to reach a place of safety.

Bad news, he was immediately captured by a pack of Drow. They got him while he was still gasping for breath. Dragged his blue ass here. Wherever 'here' was. All he was certain of was that he was well and truly lost. As well as he was deeply in trouble.

He had no idea what crime he could have committed, but he was sure that the Drow would make him pay for it. They might not even let him know what his crime was.

Bound and chained, hand and foot, they threw him into the corner of a chamber. No bars. No doors. They must not have anticipated captives. After a minute of bored supervision from an adult, another dragged in a stool and a small half-blood child.

Kosh saw it all in seconds. The cowed demeanor. The hollow cheeks. The shadows under the eyes. The way their thin clothing didn't fit. The way they clung to a flute as if it were their lifeline.

This kid was barely tolerated.

"Sit. Watch the prisoner. And if you dare fall asleep, may the gods help you."

Assholes. Making a child who was clearly tired and sleep deprived stay awake. They obviously starved and terrified the kid. Kosh wouldn't be shocked if it turned out they beat the waif as well.

Like fuck was he going to let a kid catch worse than they already had. Kosh could almost applaud the Drow for their canny aptitude at keeping him restrained. Except there was always an alternative to anyone's plans.

No plan ever survives first contact with the enemy.

Therefore, it was best to have a general goal, and adapt to the circumstances.

His goal was now to get this kid out of the hell that was clearly their life to date.

"Would you get in trouble if you played that?" he asked, nodding to the flute.

Shrug, glance past the doorway, a shake of their head. The kid didn't play.

"Do you like playing?"

Nod.

"How about you play something that helps you be happy? I promise I won't move." He had to keep his promise, of course. He was not an oath-breaking Tiefling. This was a risk, but if he knew politics like he thought he knew politics, his fate was under debate. All he did while the music played was breathe.

There was magic in those notes. The child had a talent, and none of these Elven assholes could see it. They were focussed on their blood and breeding.

Just like so many people saw him as a Tiefling first and a person barely at all.

Godsdamnit. He was for sure stealing this child. None of their alleged guardians were even going to miss them. All the more reasons to steal them.

"That was beautiful," he said honestly. Now he was free to move, he felt around him with his tail. They always forgot about the tail. They always forgot about random trash left in odd little corners in the room. "You could play like that at any tavern up top and retire at twenty-and-five. Rich as a Lord."

The child met Kosh's praise with high skepticism. Of course they didn't trust. They'd never had a reason to trust anyone.

Kosh's tail found a suitable tool. He focussed a little on the work of picking the lock. "Have you eaten today?"

Head-shake.

"There's rations in my pack, if you know where it is. It's not much, but it's enough to keep a body going until the next day."

Half a movement towards the door. A flinch. Cowering on their stool. So. The child knew where Kosh's pack was. And they knew exactly how bad things would get if they failed their duty.

He had a direction to seek his things. He might have an ally. He had the clothes he wore... and perhaps the chains as a weapon.

Click... clack... K'tchak.

His bonds no longer held him. Good. He kept his hands behind his back and felt out his new weapons. Twin metal circles held together by chains. He could wield them like nunchaku. Kosh watched. Listened and waited.

The child drowsed on their seat.

Approaching feet.

"Atchung. Kinder. Hey."

The child snorted awake just in time to appear attentive and competent for the arrival of a matriarch. Who sneered at them as if witnessing something she'd rather ignore.

"A Tiefling," she scoffed. "An Adventurer?"

"On business far away from here," said Kosh. "I have no argument with you or yours. Let me leave in peace with my pack, and this little one, and there will be no trouble."

"And why should we let you have one of our children?"

"You clearly don't want them, and I have a habit of collecting unwanted things." He put on his mask of a smile, showing off all his pointy teeth. "I am an unwanted thing, after all."

The kid cowered at his smile. Damn. Intimidation, but on the wrong target.

She moved closer. He coiled, ready to attack. There was her, her consort-pet, and maybe the child. There was no telling if or how the child would react.

"You and that halfbreed are fit only for sacrifices to Lolth. I have no other use for either of you. Unless you have other talents... tief."

"I really wish you hadn't said that word," sighed Kosh. "Now I have to hurt you."

One very important step closer. Overconfident. Haughty. "You can't even threaten me. Tief. I have the upper hand, you are in my territory, and you are in chains."

"Wrong," said Kosh, and attacked. Lunge up, shackles hitting her chin. Flurry of blows. Stunning strike to the consort. Concussed. Not killed. He bent their bodies around to be tremendously troublesome for them to escape and refastened the shackles on them. He took their weapons and their shoes. Frisked them for food. Taste-tested some fungal Lembas. It would do a child no harm.

He pressed the food into the kid's palm. "Here, Kinder. Eat. Be well." Kosh crept up to the doorway and checked the corridor. So far. So good. Time for an urgent conversation.

The kid was nibbling on the lembas as if they never expected to get more, and Kosh's heart broke.

He crouched a safe distance away, definitely not even trying to take such little food away. "I am willing to take you in and teach you," he said, keeping his voice low, "but first... I have to get out of here. For that, I need a guide. Are you willing to come with me and help?"

A glance to the lembas in their tiny hands, and a fearful look to the unconscious pair of adults.

"They're alive. We both know they won't be happy when they wake up. Speaking just for me, I would rather they be unhappy with me than you, but I'd really rather be well out of their reach when they are unhappy."

The kid finished the lembas and reached out for Kosh's hand.

He used Pass Without A Trace and followed the child's lead. They could have a conversation about names and tragic pasts after they were both somewhere safe and secure. Business first. The business of fetching his pack. Then the business of raiding a poorly-guarded food store, where Kinder pointed out the best things. Including enough lembas to feed a small army.

This child was almost as silent as an Adept at the Art of Shadows. For all Kosh knew, he might be a natural at the rest of it. It would be a delight to teach them everything he could.

First things first... escape.

Darksight did them both a lot of favours, avoiding the others in the Drow labyrinth. Making their way through the unlit, disused areas until they were both well clear of the Drow encampment.

Up and away. Uphill and upstream in the hope of reaching sunlight. Or at least somewhere safer to shelter than the random caverns of the Underdark. When the little one flagged, Kosh asked permission to carry him. Something he believed the kid appreciated. A mile or two, and he found a niche of a half-buried house. Space enough to shelter in.

He propped the kid up by an old hearth so he could set up a bedroll and his own meditation mat. The kid was mumbly in their sleep, and clutched tight to their flute as Kosh tucked them in.

"It's all right. We're safe away. Just rest. We'll talk after a long rest."

He set his pack aside safely, kept a knife in easy reach by his mat, and stripped down to his loincloth. Back to the wall. Ready to spring if anyone dared try to attack.

Fist pressed to fist. Thumb pressed to thumb. Breathe. Recite the koan at a whisper, so as not to disturb the child. "My mind is my body, my body is mine to control..."

I've recently picked up the idea of a New Year's Boast. An old Viking tradition of bragging and talking themselves up with nigh-impossible goals. Big things like sailing to the moon and conquering the moon men and bringing back their moon treasures. One thousand percent horseshit that gets thicker and heap-ier the more mead they guzzle.

Well I can't drink mead [it's amongst my Reacting To That alcohols] but I can make up horseshit with the best of them. Evidence: My likelihood of hitting 5K total flash fictions this year. So, with the aim of (a) having a lot of fun, (b) going for a laugh, (3) not actually expecting to do any of it, but, (d) considering it a super fabulous bonus if I do... I present to you my New Year's Boast.

In the Common Era Year of Two Thousand and Twenty-and-Six...

I shall become an author so mighty and popular that no other authors will matter! People will soon forget any other writer but the ones of good virtue. They shall say unto each other, "J. K. who?" and the works problematic shall wither into dust in comparison to mine. I shall gather unto myself so many royalties that I shall easily solve the world's woes with my wealth. And using that, I shall humiliate all the other egotistical kings and queens of the world by doing what they chose to neglect.

I shall ride mighty dolphins to foreign lands and punch the corrupt leaders in the face! With starmetal sword in hand, I shall journey far and wide to mete physical justice on the cowardly, yet powerful leaders of other nations. I shall make them beg on their knees for my mercy. They will find none, and I will bring their treasures with which to decorate my home and my loved ones. I shall distribute these treasures to my vassals and beautify their homes.

My creations shall become global phenomena! Not merely the weavings of my words, but also the creations of technology and art. Pseuducku will not merely be completed, but sweep the globe as a new puzzle game. It shall defeat the forces of dementia and lay waste unto them. My art shall be exhibited in the finest of galleries and fought over by the unworthy rich. Their own desperation to own my works shall render them impoverished in their battle of finances.

I shall burst the AI bubble! With starmetal sword in hand, I shall approach that hated bubble after defeating its thralls in bloody battle. I shall strike that despised inflation and render it unto the thin sheen of suds that it truly is. Lo, I shall revel in the wailing and gnashing of teeth from the loathsome tech bros as I render their house of cards unto flaming ruin!

I shall throw the biggest party for my thanes! Once all these mighty deeds are done, I shall gather all my thanes unto my feasting hall, and supply them with enough meat to feed a nation and enough mead to float us to the moon. There, in drunken valor, we shall conquer the moon men and take all their treasures as our own, and take their lands as ours. We shall dwell in moon luxury for all time thereafter, as legends among the stars.

Happy new year, y'all.

It's a time of family, sharing, caring, and chaos for all.

Travel safely, my lovely readers. It is better to get there alive than get there ahead of That Asshole.

Regular services will resume when my sanity does.

I really should be pitching. I have means to make query letters now, but... I also have a huge amount of inertia on writing them. Basically, I'm a coward and rejection hits me hard. I need to become brave and make them happen for all the books I'm throwing at agents in hope.

I have five books in my archive, effectively growing mould. I need to try shipping them with agents and hoping for the best.

One of them has to work for someone. And heaven help the first one to ask what else I have up my sleeve. They're in for an inhale of doom.

But before I go there, I need to make the dingdang query letters so I look like a professional. I think I'll try doing that on Saturdays, which I am keeping clear in case I can actually return to parkrun. As it stands, with my ankle being a bitch, Saturdays are excellent for me to be brave enough to get a query letter done.

I have five books to pitch. Two ways to do the query letter and seeing which one sparks joy. So that's potentially ten weeks working on it. If I can't shake off the terrors of doing it in the first place.

Wish me the best of luck.

I have been battling a patch of burnout, lately. Too many pots on the backburner leading to the metaphorical grease fire in the vent hood. So I had to quit doing a few things. Last week, it was also this.

I think the storytime videos are a little much for me in the Crimbo lead-up. And keeping on top of the fam's voracious appetite. So they're on hiatus until such time as I have more time. When I do start making them again, I'll start embedding them in various socials. See how that works.

Of course it all depends on how I feel about it later.

On the physical side of things, I know that the physiotherapy is working. I was able to ascend and descend a flight of stairs with minimal pain. Hooray. I am kind of angry at my doctor when I was sixteen - just telling me to avoid the things that hurt. All I needed was the right physio and I would have had a lot more freedom in my life.

Can't be changed.

I know my ankle is getting stronger, but it is also being a bitch about movement, so I shall continue stretches and exercises until things improve. Hoping for the best. I have signs of improvement.

And I'm still being a coward about matching up my pitchable books with potential agents. Just like I'm being a coward about calling the air con mob and booking the service. I shall do that first thing tomorrow. Promise. I will get people to chase me about it if I have to.

I have a bunch of folks who can do that for me.

I continue to hope. I will get there. Complaining the entire time.