Silence sat heavy around the three Heads and Cerys, and it was even heavier between Atreus and River as they stared at the conjured window. Their eyes intently followed each small movement, waiting to hear what the verdict would be.

River bit the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed as he wondered what ‘everything’ meant. What would Cerys give up to the Heads? What information did she have already? How far would she go for them?

Alaric was the first to speak. “Why now? You had a chance before to tell us what you knew, when we exiled you.”

“I know more now, and I’ve someone to protect,” Cerys replied, and for a brief moment, River swore she glanced at his and Atreus’ way.

“How much do you know?” Alaric asked her and she chuckled, shaking her head.

“Enough to make our stay worthwhile,” Cerys flashed him a firm smile. “But I have methods of gathering more intel, if necessary. Consider our stay payment for my services, what you ask of me—within reason—I’ll do. What’s Morana doing? I’ll find out. What are her targets? I’ll tell you. What’s her goal?” Cerys licked her lips and then sat back into her chair, leaning back with her hands in her lap. “Grant us sanctuary, and you’ll find out.”

“She can’t be trusted,” Atreus muttered. “How can she get all this information if she’s no longer part of the Everlasting Servants?”

River shrugged. “Beats me, but if she were part of the Servants, she wouldn’t share anything, right?”

“The information she feeds us could be lies,” Atreus said and narrowed his eyes on River. “In fact, you could be here to gather information on us while she’s busy distracting the Heads. Just how bad is your allergy?

River’s eyes widened, surprised Atreus knew about his allergy. He hadn’t expected that, but he moved on. He forced himself to sit up, stifling a groan of pain as he did so. Fuck, what he’d give for a cold shower. His skin still burned hot and each movement reignited the stinging itch.

“You’re right,” River said and sighed like he just got caught in a lie. “Man, you figured it out so quickly! I faked passing out because I wanted to be carried in your arms, all so I can spy on you! I cannot wait to tell Morana how much of a selfish, distrustful ass you are! And yeah, my allergy isn’t bad at all. In fact, it’s all fake!” River held up his hands and arms, the rash and wounds not even an ounce better. Unlike the Mythics around him, River couldn’t rely on magic for a quick fix. “Congratulations, you're so smart for figuring that out.”

“Oh, I’m the ass?” Atreus scoffed.

“A stupid one too,” River replied, arms crossed as he sat back against the arm of the couch, glancing at Cerys and the Heads. They were discussing terms in more detail, and a spark of hope ignited. Perhaps the Heads were more sensible than their heir.

“You can’t blame me,” Atreus said and River flicked his hazel eyes back to him. “We’re in contact with covens on the outside, former residents who moved on, and Morana has been attacking covens, defenceless and small ones. Murdering, sacrificing them, all for more power, more magic.

“So I don’t trust your sister, not when she has done the same thing, and I can’t trust you when you’re happy playing dumb at her side.”

“You can’t assume she took part.”

“Do you know what the marks on her skin mean?” Atreus smirked when River didn’t respond. “Perhaps you should ask her.”

Silennce sat between the two, until footsteps approaching caused Atreus to shoot up and vanish his conjured window. He stood like a soldier, his arms behind his straightened back, head up and eyes forward as a man came down stairs and met them with a surprise, wide eyed look. Clementine followed behind him, her clothes changed into a loose white dress. She gasped and shoved past the man, immediately diving over to River.

“Are you okay?” she asked and brushed his hair out of his face, her brown eyes peering through his soul. He chuckled and pulled her hands down away from him.

“I’m okay,” River replied, though he hardly meant it. He felt like a truck had hit and dragged him across charcoal. “What’s going on?

“Cerys is in a meeting with the Heads, and I’m trying to convince Papa to back her up!” Clementine spun her eyes and shot a pouting glare at the short man.

The man sighed heavily in turn and propped his tan, olive fists on his hips, the bright pink flowers across his short-sleeved button up on display across his round body. His dark hair had been done up in a messy bun, while his long salt and pepper beard was braided down his chest.

“Lemy, I told you, I’m not interrupting,” the man said and smiled kindly at River. “You must be River, Cerys’ brother, yes? I’m Caspian.”

“He hasn’t gotten better,” Clementine commented as she closely inspected River’s hands. She turned to Atreus, who had relaxed at the sight of Clementine and her father’s arrival. “When did he wake up?”

“Just as I got here,” Atreus answered and regarded River for a careful moment. “His pain hasn’t improved and he has no strength.”

“I bet I could still take you on,” River bit. Atreus only rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you’re definitely Cerys’ brother,” Caspian laughed. He bent over to see River’s wounds, Clementine holding his raw, red hand out. Carefully, Caspian took it from her and inhaled through his teeth, sympathetic to the pain.

“You’re truly allergic to magic?” He asked.

“All my life,” River replied. “Look, when it got bad as a kid, I used to take ice baths. I mean, it's never gotten this bad before but I’m sure it’ll help.”

“No, no, you have open wounds now,” Caspian said and gave River his hand back. “We need to clean, disinfect and wrap them.” He clicked his fingers and then a pink tool box appeared between his hands.

“I knew Papa could do something,” Clementine cheerily said and took a seat beside River. They watched Caspian rummaged through his tool box, pulling out bandages upon bandages. “Did you know he helped Cerys when she first came here?” Clementine had turned to River. “She was in a really bad shape, mentally. Papa found her in the lake, brought her home, fought for her stay here and then nursed her back to full health.”

“Fought for her to stay?” River questioned.

“It was obvious what she practised,” Atreus interjected. “We weren’t comfortable with her in our wards.”

“So what changed your mind?” River wondered as Caspian took his hands and carefully wiped a damp cloth over his wounds. River hissed, Caspian offering a small apology before he continued.

“Caspian convinced his husband and wife, the heads took a vote and my father got outvoted,” Atreus explained, his eyes stern on River. “That mistake won’t happen again, no matter what she offers.”

River smiled at him. “Want to make a bet?”

“A bet?” Atreus asked.

“I bet all three will vote in her favour,” River said. “If I’m right, you owe me one. If I’m wrong, I’ll give you a free chance to try and hit me. Pay back for when I punched you.”

“You two are on a fast track to being friends,” Caspian commented and sprayed an antiseptic across River’s hands, the cold a welcomed relief for River, albeit temporary.

“I accept, but because I’ve faith in my Heads,” Atreus said with a playful smirk across his face.

As if on cue, Cerys rounded the corner and gasped at the sight of River. Behind her, a woman and two men followed, all three laying their eyes on him too.

“You’re okay,” Cerys exhaled in relief and rushed over to Caspian’s side. “Thank you, Cas, thank you. And you too, Atreus. I appreciate you having my brother’s back.”

Atreus paid her no mind, his face completely steeled as he faced ahead, having returned back into his stiff position. “Father. May I ask for the verdict?”

Alaric stepped forth, his eyes the same amber-brown as Atreus’. River clenched his jaw, his gut unnerved by the Mythic. There was something dangerous about him.

“Cordelia is in the Augustines' favour,” Alaric stated, taking a stand in front of the fireplace where Atreus joined his side. “Sol is against.”

“You don’t consider them to be a risk, Cordelia?” Atreus asked.

The older woman huffed, clacking her cane against the hardwood floor as she took a seat in an armchair. “It’s not that,” she said and studied River with a curious inquisition. “I believe she is of more use than she is a risk. Especially with her little puppy to hold her back. I have a condition, however.”

“A condition I refuse to accept,” Cerys snapped, her fists tightening at her side.

“What’s the condition?” River tensely asked, concerned in his gaze as Cerys shook her head.

“To guarantee trust between both parties,” Alaric chose to explain, his smile thin on River. Much like Cordelia, he watched River far too closely. “We want to make an oath. Should she betray us…”

The hair on the back of River’s neck stood on end, his mouth dry, but even so River didn’t break the eye contact he shared with the Head of Zenith.

“You’ll die.”