Maeve awoke slowly to sunlight peeking in through the curtains on the window. She felt the comfort of her blankets and bed, and sighed, still half in sleep. For a moment, there was the tranquility of not really understanding where she was except that she was safe at home, in her room and in her bed.

But the feeling didn’t last as the memories of the previous night came to her in waves. The warmth and tingling in her body from sex juxtaposed itself with a heavy feeling of dread.

From Castian’s insistence on the visit.

From his manipulation of her parents.

From his visit to her in the night.

…She wanted to go back to sleep.

But she had a hidden little fear that he and her parents were downstairs sharing breakfast and conversation, and she didn’t like the idea of letting that go on any longer than it needed to.

Maeve peeled herself out of bed and put on some fresh clothes.

Only her parents were downstairs -- which was odd, because the door to the guestroom had been open when she passed it.

“Good morning, Maevelyn,” her mother said. “Help yourself to some breakfast.”

She was smiling, but there was something off about it.

“Good morning,” Maeve said, suddenly hesitant. “...Did Castian leave?”

Her father cleared his throat.

“Oh, yes,” her mother said, almost absently. “He left a note.”

There was, in fact, a piece of parchment on the counter.

‘Thank you again, so much, for your hospitality. I’m heading out early to explore a bit of your lovely city while I have the chance. I’ll return in a couple of days to teleport Maeve and I home.’

‘Castian’

Oh, alright. So he had left -- that was a relief, in a way, but a relief overshadowed by her parents very clearly acting… strange. They weren’t enchanted, but did they somehow pick up on his tricks from last night’s dinner?

“Ah,” Maeve said. “Well, it is nice of him to give us some time, at least?”

“Mhm,” her mom said.

Maeve frowned. “Is everything alright?”

Her mother tried to hide a pause. “Yes, dear. Just a bit of fitful sleep, nothing to worry about, sweetie.”

…Why would that --

Suddenly, Maeve recalled her completely dazed orgasm and the way that her throat had vibrated, loudly, with sound --

Oh, no -- had they -- they had heard --

She had snuck people into the house before to spend time, but always so carefully; when her parents weren’t around, or staying quiet in bed…

Maeve realized instantly that the only thing she could do was to muster some way to play dumb. Even if everyone was fully aware of some awful truth here, she wasn’t about to make herself look guiltier than she already did by drawing attention to it.

“I’m sorry,” Maeve said quickly, with feigned sympathy, internally cursing Castian. “We can take an easy day today, if you like. What’s for breakfast?”

Luckily, the awkwardness eventually subsided, and the following days were mostly pleasant. Though this was the first time being caught in a sexual position by her parents (and one that was entirely not her fault), Maeve had to assume that it was an inevitable part of the parent/child relationship. She imagined that someone like Delilah, for instance, would have brazenly flaunted bringing her intimate partners around -- based on the stories that Delilah had told her about her parents’ constant exasperation, Maeve even smiled privately at the idea of how that would have gone.

However, her parents’ impression of Castian had been permanently blackened, it seemed. Not that Maeve was going out of her way to talk about him (in fact, the opposite), but when his name came up -- such as when Maeve mentioned the day that they were departing -- her mother and father exchanged glances and wouldn’t look her straight in the eye. And the way that her mother in particular referred to him now as “your… friend” gave Maeve the sense that it was going to be very difficult to walk back the notion that they were, somehow, partners.

It was easy and natural to lie to her parents. But getting caught in the lie of “I have no suitors” felt like a particularly big blow, even if she felt it was actually close to the truth. There was simply no way to explain the real truth to them in a way that they’d understand or be at all comfortable with. She’d have to deal with this one step at a time -- a problem for the future.

But for the most part, she and her parents were able to have comfortable time at home and even go out into the city for a day. They walked along the water and even stopped in at Maeve’s favorite food stall -- the scent of heavily seasoned red meat and stewed root vegetables plunging her deep into nostalgia as they sat down to eat.

One thing that she remained intensely stubborn about was visiting the Academy, and especially professor Wynoake.

“We won’t force you,” her father said on the final day over breakfast, “but your mother and I could easily go into work to do a couple of things so you could at least say hello.”

“It’s alright,” Maeve replied, trying not to be short. “I’m a bit tired and we had a long day out yesterday. Perhaps next time I visit.”

That little quip of course bought her some goodwill, as her parents had already been making comments about what to do on her next trip out -- and a handful of them about not wanting to wait so long for the next time.

In all, it was a nice visit, full of reminiscing on childhood stories and memories and good food. Though she loved her work at the guild, it ended up being a welcome break.

All that was left was to dread Castian’s return back to the house and the interaction that followed before they teleported home.

His knock came late in the afternoon, and the thick, awkward tension spiked under her mother’s artificially cheerful, “I’ve got it!” as she went to answer the door and as Maeve gathered her belongings.

“Hello, Mrs. Loravyr,” Castian said, pleasantly. “I hope you’ve all had a nice few days.”

“Yes,” her mother replied, with an edge of curtness that Maeve realized was similar to her own, and after a moment began to say, “Would you like to come --”

“It’s alright,” Maeve interrupted, hoisting her bag over her shoulder and walking towards the door. “We should really head back.”

If Castian noticed the total discomfort of her and her family -- not if, of course, but though -- he was doing an extremely good job of pretending to not see it, smiling effortlessly.

Maeve gave a hug to her mother and father, promising that she’d come back soon, and walked out the door.

Castian’s smile widened just slightly as they walked down the steps.

Maeve scowled, well beyond playing games or entertaining the idea that he didn’t know what had transpired. “I had told you to be quiet.”

They were not even out of sight of the house, but he casually touched her back in some semblance of a friendly gesture, and leaned in a bit.

“I wasn’t the one being loud,” he whispered. “It seemed like it just felt so good…”

Traitorously, her body tingled with the memory of being controlled into cumming --

“Stop,” she said, almost whining.

Castian laughed, but left it at that. They walked a bit more along the street in a few moments of silence -- and Maeve’s confusion.

“Where are we going?” Maeve asked. “Are we not using a teleportation spell?”

“It is still a bit early,” Castian said. “I thought we might sit by the park for a few minutes before leaving.”

“And do what?” she said, suddenly suspicious.

“Talk,” he replied. “It has been a few days.”

The simplicity of his answer concerned her, elements of truth clearly hidden from her. But it wasn’t as though she had another choice -- Castian was her ride back to the Dove. There was a part of it, though, that seemed to imply that he had missed her; despite everything and all of the strife he had created with her parents, there was a little fluttering in her stomach that at once made her feel warm and recoil from it in horror.

They sat on a bench that she had sat on countless times before in her youth, at various ages -- with friends from school during the day or sneaking about at night. There were a few scattered people out, thankfully no one that she recognized, simply walking or having a bit of lunch on the well-groomed grass.

Maeve told him a bit of what she and her parents had done during their visit, the food they’d eaten and the things they talked of. Castian mentioned some of his own sight-seeing, various places in the city that she had been so often and perhaps taken for granted. She of course got the impression that he wasn’t telling her everything, but she found herself too tired to pry.

“Your parents seem like nice people,” he remarked. “Though certainly I can see some of your frustration with them.”

“Yes, well, good luck being welcomed back to their house,” Maeve said, perhaps too sharply. “You are so lucky they didn’t catch on to your -- your --”

She couldn’t bring herself to fully express and remember the way he had manipulated them, and Castian’s grin made her immediately regret bringing it up.

“I think I will be back,” he said. “I am quite good at keeping up appearances.”

“My parents are as stubborn as I am,” Maeve said. “And I’m not exactly inclined to do this again, either.”

“I know where they live now,” Castian said, lips curved up and voice lowering. “Perhaps I pay them a visit without you -- in town on separate business, stopping by to say hello, and having a nice conversation with them… Reminiscing on our first meeting, talking about the faultiness and haziness of memory…”

Her mind was spinning an image of it, of the confusion sewn in their faces, and she realized too late that she herself was going still and listening --

“Perhaps a little spellwork to help them remember how nice of a time we’ve had,” he murmured. “What good company I am, and how happy they are for their darling Maeve to have found such a lovely friend…”

Her heart thudded. “They’re… elven mages…” she whispered, only able to summon complaint towards the most obvious thing, that they would unequivocally know if he enchanted them -- he didn’t dare…

“That’s right,” he said, and brought one hand up to gently stroke her head, making it loll slightly, thumb brushing against the pointed tip of her ear. “And yet their elven daughter was captured by me so easily in the same way…”

She knew that he was weaving this idea to her -- that he would pull all the strings on his relationship with them, not simply because he could, but because it would benefit him, because he could insert himself further into her life for it.

Maeve realized, dazed, that he was doing this in public, that her mouth was agape in the middle of the park.

“...Park,” was all she could whisper, softly, the alarm in her head dulled and not reaching her lips.

“Yes, Maeve,” he murmured, putting a finger under her chin to stabilize her gaze to him. “You’re losing to me in the park where you grew up, and unless you are very unlucky, only you and I can see the hidden spell I’m casting over you, the one that you are helpless to, that enchants you without magic, that you cannot resist simply because you so desperately want to resist…”

Her body burned with the desire that he was meticulously stoking -- his silver tongue never quite this pointedly aimed to make her need and want --

“I left the other morning hungry,” he said, voice edging to a low, controlled growl. “Thrilled by what I did to you. But unsatisfied.”

…He had missed her -- he had been wanting her… She was gasping quiet breaths, nearly forgetting all the horrible manipulations, simply and easily wanting him back --

“Let’s go back to your room at the Dove,” Castian whispered. “I want to fuck this wretchedness into you.”

Maeve felt as though she could barely see, the world swimming and blurred except for the glint of his eyes, blinded by the fogginess in her head and sudden, intense physical desire. He held out his hand, glowing with teleportation magic, and automatically, she took it.

They appeared in a rush of magic a few buildings down from the tavern -- it was a slow and hazy walk there, the horrible cliche of her thighs brushing together which each step, unbelievably aroused and almost too much to care that they would need to walk through like this up to her room.

She needed this -- just this once, it would be OK to need this, no strings attached, she wanted him, she could have him in her bed as she wanted him right now --

His hand was on the small of her back, gently guiding her along as she opened the doors to the Dove.

“Oh -- MAEVE!”

From within the din of the tavern, she heard a familiar feminine voice that ripped through her with cutting dread.

Delilah was sitting with Grant and Haggr at a table sharing ale and shots, waving frantically to her -- and there was dawning knowledge on her face in the form of eyebrows raising and a little smirk.

Snapped completely out of her daze, sexual arousal withering between her legs, heart pounding in terror, Castian’s arm still extended behind her, face flushed.

Quickly, she stepped forward to widen the gap between her and Castian and to approach her friends.

“Hey,” she said, trying to control her voice, pasting a smile on her face. “What are you all doing here?”

“Someone had the bright idea to welcome you home,” Grant said, taking a big swig of ale.

“Thought you might want to decompress a little after seeing your parents,” Delilah said, still with a maddening, knowing little grin. “But, you know -- we can head out --”

Castian came up beside her, bringing to her a desire to simply die.

“Hello,” he said, cheerful as ever. “It’s lovely to see you all again; I hope you’ve been faring well since the incident at the docks?”

“Well, thank you,” Haggr said politely.

“Same to you,” Delilah said, starting to snicker.

“We just ran into each other on my way back here,” Maeve said, trying to crush the desperation in her voice. “He was just leaving…”

“He’s welcome to stay with us and drink,” Delilah smiled. “Or, if you’re too tired from the trip, we can party another night…”

Maeve didn’t want to party another night. She didn’t want to party tonight. She didn’t even want to go and have sex anymore. Frankly, she didn’t want to see her friends -- or Castian -- ever again.

“I’m flattered by the offer, but I should head home myself,” Castian said, mercifully, and turned to her. “We can catch up another time, Maeve.”

“Okay,” she said stiffly. “It was nice to see you.”

To her horror, his hand extended and she feared that he would embrace her or lean down to kiss her, but he simply patted the side of her arm. She realized that this was the only satisfaction of touch she would get, and some part of her was shriveling up inside, cursing.

He left, and Delilah burst out laughing.

“I knew it,” she said, at the same time flagging down someone to get Maeve a tankard. “You’re such a bad liar.”

“It’s not what you think,” Maeve insisted, then again when Delilah looked at her like she was stupid: “It’s not!”

“Look,” Grant interrupted. “I tagged along to hear Maeve bitch about her awful time at home, not to listen to girl-talk.”

“We’ll talk later,” Maeve agreed (...was Grant trying to help her?). “I am tired and I want a fucking drink.”

Eventually, the insufferable, shit-eating grin on Delilah’s face faded -- somewhat.

The following day, she was called over by the innkeep on her way down to breakfast. There was a letter for her with a wax seal of the town emblem, glowing faintly with magic.

Uneasy, she sat down and opened it -- the spell crackling to activate before dissipating -- and began reading:

‘Maeve Loravyr,’

‘This is a notice requesting your presence for an interview related to the AXXXXX case. At your earliest convenience within one day of receipt of this letter, please come in-person to the guardhouse for an interview.’

‘NOTE: We are obligated to state that this is NOT an interrogative summons; there will NOT be a Zone of Truth present. We are obligated to state that we conduct interviews with a mageguard present. We are obligated to state that failure to respond to this letter MAY trigger a permit for an interrogation.’

Her empty stomach grew queasy with stress. The spell surely alerted them to her reading.

Maeve had known -- or at least suspected -- that the incident with Ashton was not fully over. But it had been enough time that she’d let herself hope that her part in it was done. The fact that the guards wanted to question her further suddenly made her very nervous.

Castian hadn’t talked much about how Foxtail had fared afterwards. She’d assumed that the place had been fully searched and that he himself had made it so he was safe from implication. But Maeve knew things about Castian’s part in the whole scheme, and that wasn’t good if the guards were looking for more information from her.

The letter was clear that this wasn’t an interrogation, so she could feasibly lie without there being a truth spell in effect. An enchanted interrogation like that was a big deal -- something that required permission from a judge and lots of evidence of probable cause. The fact that they didn’t have that was a relief, but she would need to make sure that she didn’t say anything that triggered one.

She had been hoping -- for multiple reasons -- that Castian would join her for breakfast this morning. But even as she took her time with the plate of bacon and eggs, he didn’t show, and Maeve still didn’t know how to contact him herself.

She was on her own for this; she couldn’t afford to wait until it was too late.

She had already decided to take the day off of work, and so she summoned her courage to take a walk to the guardhouse.

It was a stone building on the other side of town, unassuming but flying the town banner proudly out front. Maeve pulled open the large doors.

Inside there was an elven woman in armor sitting at a small desk, looking up at her as she came in -- Maeve recognized her from the docks, subduing Ashton at the end.

“Hello,” Maeve said, and she held up the parchment. “I -- I received this letter to come in and answer some questions.”

“Ah, Maeve Loravyr,” the woman said neutrally. “Thank you for coming. My name is Sylvia, and I’ll conduct your interview in just a few minutes. You can have a seat.”

There were stiff-looking wooden chairs off to the side, and Maeve sat, her heart pounding.

She knew that she didn’t do anything wrong, really. She had gone to Foxtail, yes, but she had essentially been a victim. Her main fear was getting Castian implicated in something that would really get him in trouble.

The few minutes before she was called left her thinking about how it had come to be that she wanted, so much, to protect him -- a man who had ultimately used her and hurt her; a man whose full motives she still didn’t know.

“Ms. Loravyr,” Sylvia called.

Maeve stood, and followed her to a side room.

Inside was a table and two chairs, with sparse decorations.

“As standard protocol, I’m just going to make sure you’re not enchanted or disguised,” Sylvia said before they sat, and quickly cast a magic detection spell. Satisfied, she took a seat.

“Now, Ms. Loravyr,” she said. “Again, to state: This is not an interrogation. We just have some questions.”

“Sure,” Maeve said, uneasy.

And as simply as that, Sylvia launched into them.

“We are aware that this incident took place, in part, connected with Foxtail, an unauthorized gambling club,” she said. “And we are aware that you attended this club several times. Can you tell me a little about why you were there?”

…She was going to have to lie, already, as quickly and as sharply as she could.

“I’m part of the guild in town, and was perhaps looking for more adventure than it could give me at the time,” Maeve said. “I overheard about the club’s existence and grew suspicious and curious of it and what was going on there. That was my mistake.”

Sylvia was writing down notes on an enchanted piece of parchment. “Did you have assistance getting into the club, or during your investigation?”

“I was getting tips from another member,” Maeve said carefully.

Without looking up, Sylvia asked, “A member named Kairon?”

Maeve’s heart thudded, and she realized that she was pausing too long to deny. “Yes, that was his name.”

“Do you know where he is now?” Sylvia asked.

“I don’t,” Maeve replied. “I haven’t seen him since the final night that I was there.”

“Where did you acquire the transformation potion that gained you entrance to the club?”

Fuck -- they couldn’t know that Kairon was transformed --

“I made it myself,” Maeve said.

“Did anyone else have it?”

“Not that I know of.”

“And you were found out because you came into contact with an enchantment potion?”

Ashton must have told them --

“Yes,” Maeve said.

“Thank you,” Sylvia said, and began to tuck away her parchment. “That’s all. We will contact you if we have further need for your assistance.”

“I --” That was it? “Of course. Is there -- anything I should know about this investigation?”

Sylvia stood. “We will let you know if there is.”

Maeve couldn’t read her at all -- her nearly-icy professional demeanor remained impenetrable, and that did not leave a good taste.

Unceremoniously, Sylvia went back to work at her desk, and Maeve headed back to the Dove.