NOTE-- Same caveat and general sucking-up, dear readers. Family demands are still moderate to severe and writing time minimal, so this is again an early draft. Most of the basics, but stuff like period-appropriate language suffers. Mea culpa, adiuta fortuna. Grovelling, etc, etc. I also got carried away with the sex scenes, which slightly screwed up the order of events, but I didn't want to make you wait any more, so you're getting a draft-y version!
REMINDER- I write long stories, and they're way more fun if you start from the beginning. Thanks for reading!
--o----O----o--
Something was going on.
Nivid couldn't say what he was sensing or explain how he knew its meaning, but every horned, hooved, animal inch of him knew: something was going on.
And it wasn't good.
Since Troi learned the magnitude of the curse controlling the Denova destiny, Nivid had been forced, time and time again , to stamp down on his own desire to drag her aside and tell her to stop what she was doing.
Talgut nudged Nivid's elbow to get his attention. They'd been steadily devouring another of Troi's enormous breakfasts while they eyed Argus, who was sitting across the table from them, smuggling small bites between answering Troi's questions.
She'd asked many, many questions. The first day after her discovery had been devoted to carrying on the conversation she and Nivid had begun the night before, and he'd been largely exempt from her questions since then, unless she needed a second point of view on information she'd just learned. The second day, she'd focused almost entirely on Talgut, and the third-- yesterday-- on Argus. It now appeared Day Four might also belong to the youngest Denova.
Talgut's glee at witnessing Argus' ongoing discomfort was bolstered by the relief he felt after escaping from his own. He leaned toward Nivid and muttered under his breath, "Almost makes you wish her hurt feelings were back, don't it?"
Nivid snorted, drawing a hasty glance from Argus and a fleeting glare from Troi.
While he kept an eye on Troi, who seemed determine to increasing her already excessive pile of woes and worries, Nivid tried to dampen down frequent spurts of his own inappropriately buoyant mood.
Two months ago, he'd been doomed to an aeon of simply existing: hunting and breathing and fucking with no purpose but to go on doing so day after endless day. Now he was sitting at a table eating with his family, spending many of his sunlit hours and all of his tempestuous nights with a woman who seemed sure to provide him with a lifetime of surprises.
A month ago, he couldn't recall the last time he laughed; now it was happening several times a day. Of course, Nivid was smothering most of his chuckles in order to save his own skin, but still.... they were there, simmering beneath the surface of a life which was changing so radically, so rapidly, he hardly recognized it as his own.
He'd barely adapted to the idea of Talgut speaking to him on a regular basis when the nomad started mumbling these witty asides. Nivid had no idea what precipitated the other man's increased level of comfort, but if it gave the rest of them access to the undiscovered font of dry wit beneath that gruff exterior, he was glad for it. On the other hand, the difference in Talgut's manner before and Talgut's manner after was wildly disconcerting, and Nivid wasn't alone in his opinion; he'd seen Vesa staring at the younger man, too.
But Nivid's returning sense of humor and Talgut's ebullient persona were hardly the only things which changed when Troi learned the truth of the curse, and Nivid didn't have to ask if anyone else had noticed; he was completely certain everyone in the castle divided their lives into the same neat pieces: BEFORE Troi knew and AFTER Troi knew.
It wasn't so much that she was angry as that she'd lost the last shred of fear beaten into her during the years she spent living as a slave. As if the fear had been shackles and chains and a collar of lead, Troi's movements became looser and more expansive. To say she was less restrained would be a serious understatement, and that change was most easily discerned in conversation, where her quick replies seldom came edited. She was also louder and taking advantage of a remarkably broad vocabulary.
At the moment, she was using her verbal skills quizzing Argus about his role in the early days of her captivity. Nivid got the feeling yesterday had been more of an introduction to the topic than the detailed recounting she required. For obvious reasons, his brother didn't want to talk about it.
Troi had been probing for thirty minutes, while Argus stubbornly replied with yeses and nos and rudely short phrases.
"So, you sense when he's losing control and try to soothe him?"
Argus nodded and grunted around his spoon.
"Do you purposely renew contact to find out how he's feeling, if he's in control?"Troi was starting to sound irritated with Argus' one-word responses.
"Sometimes." Argus shrugged and swallowed, shoving another bite in his mouth.
"When?"
He shrugged again, still chewing. "When I think he needs me."
Evidently deciding her leading questions were leading her nowhere, Troi stabbed straight through to the core of her concern. "Well, what about at night? Do you 'help' when Nivid is fucking me?"
Argus nearly choked, coughing, sputtering, and finally spitting the hard-earned morsel of food into a napkin. When he finished coughing and wiping his watery eyes, Argus stood to face Troi, wearing a look which landed somewhere between horror and disbelief. "I don't interfere in Veli's private activities!"
Troi put her hands on her hips. "That's not what you said yesterday. You said--"
"I know what I said!" he bellowed. "I was talking about being able to quiet each other's ill humor, not... not... not...."
With a roar of fury, Argus threw his balled-up napkin toward the corner of the room and stormed from the kitchen with more vigor than he'd shown all week-- despite having eaten less than a quarter of his meal. Troi stomped off in the other direction. Thankfully, her expert cursing shocked Nivid and Talgut out of laughing. Because unlike those occasions when Troi and Talgut battled for sibling supremacy, there was nothing playful in Troi's retreat. She had no sense of humor when it came to the subject of the curse, and mocking her investigation would be riskier than napping with one of Nivid's wolves. None of the men she lived with were that foolish.
For four days she'd quizzed them tirelessly, endlessly about one subject after another-- their parents, their history, their family, their lives in the castle and before, in places and times they could barely remember.
--
You said your mother wasn't a witch.... what about the rest of her family?
None they knew of. Their Finnish grandparents must have passed away by now, and if Täti Pilvi, their aunt, was still living, she was back in Finland, too.
Your father's family?
There was "odd" Uncle Bari when they lived in Arkhangelsk, but ten fruitless questions proved the boys had been too young to absorb any details of his strangeness.
--
Troi's questions were earnest, penetrating, and obviously goal-directed. Though she never explicitly stated her intention, no one felt the need to ask: it was plain to see what she was after. No matter how random an individual question might seem, every inquiry eventually led back around to the subject which drew forth her deepest interest.
--
Your father's family never came to visit after you left Arkhangelsk?
No, the farewell letter their parents left behind explained the reason for our departure but specified no destination.
And you never saw your family again?
