A Morning of Indulgence, Part 1

The House of Quiet Waters never failed to impress, but today, even for the standards of a resort built for luxury and dreams, it had outdone itself. The corridor that led in from the main hall had tripled its length, and each turn seemed to open on a new pool chamber—some tiled in lapis, some floored in dark slate. The air was heavy with steam and a trickle of sound, equal parts waterfall and the soft human music of conversation at a hundred different volumes.

Norah made no effort to hide her pleasure in the pool she’d found: the water perfectly just-this-side-of-scalding, the benches molded for sitting, not just perching, and the air above it so rich with humidity that the outside world could have been a thousand miles away. At her right was Liesa, arms draped out behind her across the wet tile, legs kicked up in a practiced posture that looked effortless but which Norah knew, from bitter experience, required months of yoga and years of body confidence to pull off. At her left, less flashy but even less self-conscious, was Elsie Jones from a season called ‘Dungeon Crawl,’ perched on the steps with knees to her chin and only her head visible above the little choppy waves she made by absent-mindedly flexing her ankles.

They’d barely settled into the pool’s rhythm before the gold-veined black door creaked open. Three women stepped in, hair still wind-blown from the outside, each with a white hotel towel but none wearing it the same way. The tallest led, her stride slow but directional: platinum hair caught in a loose knot, skin pale and eyes so sharp they could have been a signature. She wore a bathrobe but had shrugged it off the shoulders, leaving her arms exposed to the chill. Beside her, a woman half a head shorter, wiry and compact, walked with the purposeful step of someone trained to be on guard, even if she didn’t look it—her brown hair pulled tight, her face set in lines of wary humor. The last of the trio, darker-skinned and built like a weightlifter even in repose, trailed just half a pace behind, her smile already forming before she’d even finished scanning the room.

Liesa was the first to spot them. She straightened, water rolling off her bare shoulders, and called out, “We have company!”

Norah watched as the three women descended the tile steps, their footsteps synced, like the first measures of a practiced waltz. The tallest called out “Hey! Sorry to crash the local,” and Liesa, without a beat, called back “Come on, there’s space, just ignore the puddle monsters.” Elsie blushed, but didn’t retreat; if anything, she sat taller, shoulders squared with the kind of pride only a British girl could pull off while half-submerged.

Liesa hauled herself out of the pool with a clean, athletic movement, grabbing a towel and tying it off at her waist before padding over. She extended her hand to the tallest, her Flemish accent a little thicker than usual: “Liesa Claes,” she said, “and this is Norah Rahman and Elsie Jones. Welcome to the best pool.”

The platinum-haired woman smiled. “Gwen. These are Lottie and Mede.” She said the last two names with the easy efficiency of someone who’d been saying them in that order for years.

Norah watched the way they settled on the benches together, not bunched but not spread either. There was a rhythm to their arrangement, and it was Liesa who noticed it first: the way Lottie waited for Mede to sit before folding her own towel, the way Mede handed a second towel to Gwen before Gwen asked, the way all three seemed to anticipate each other’s movements by a fraction of a second. It wasn’t submission, and it wasn’t pecking order. It was—Liesa tried to find the word—maybe a choreography. The kind of balance that only happened when everyone had learned, slowly and by trial, exactly how the others liked to move.

“So,” Liesa said, stretching her arms overhead to re-shoulder her towel, “what brings you to the Quiet Waters?”

Gwen laughed, low and musical. “I’m told it’s the best spot for eavesdropping, and the company here is supposed to be even better than the scenery.”

“That is very much true,” Liesa said, then paused for effect. “But you’re not here for the wedding?”

“Oh, we’re here for the wedding,” Lottie said, her voice pitched half an octave lower than Norah expected from her size. “We just don’t know the bride or groom. Arabella told us it would be more fun to meet people first.”

Elsie, emboldened by the interplay, asked, “Which one of you knows Arabella best?” She wasn’t being competitive—just curious, but the way she tracked each answer was so precise it could have been for a test.

Gwen and Mede exchanged a look, but it was Lottie who said, “We all do, sort of. We were in a season here, one long before the current lot. You know how it goes.”

Norah didn’t, exactly, but she let it pass. “And your last names?” She said, not unkind, but with an edge. “It’s odd you only use first names.”

All three answered in chorus, flat and deadpan: “Penn.”

The echo made Liesa’s mouth twitch. She liked these three already, and she was willing to admit it. “So, the Penns.” She drew it out, mock-formal. “What do you all do?”

Gwen’s arms flexed as she settled deeper into the pool, muscle sliding under the pale skin. “These days, nothing. I was a queen, once, sort of. Lottie was a knight. Mede—” She glanced at Mede, who was already waving it off.

“I was a hunter,” Mede said. “Retired.”

Norah’s attention locked on Mede. There was something different about her—she held herself perfectly still, not fidgeting, not checking the room, not even blinking more than was strictly required. It was a kind of steadiness Norah associated only with women who’d grown up in places where being noticed wasn’t always safe.

Liesa didn’t miss it either, but she focused on Gwen instead. “So, queen and knight. That’s adorable. It must have been a lot of work.”

Gwen laughed, warm and real. “Yes and no, if you can believe it. Our husband is a remarkable man. And Mede did the actual hard work of keeping everything together while the rest of us tried to avoid drama.”

“You don’t look much like a queen,” Norah said, but she meant it as a compliment.

Gwen’s eyes flashed. “I’ll take that as the highest praise.”

The conversation drifted, as conversations in pools do, through topics of no consequence and then back around to the subject of Arabella, whose function in the season Gwen, Lottie and Mede had been in had been more that of a challenger, than a maternal presence. It was during one of these sidelong loops that Norah, still focused on Mede, blurted out: “What was the hardest thing you ever did, Mede? Before any of this.”

Mede didn’t hesitate. “I spent three years in the wilderness, alone, because I thought it mattered to finish a hunt that everyone else had already given up on. When I got back, the world had moved on. The story that got written about it made it sound like I was only ever part of the background.” She shrugged, easy. “It was fine. Just strange, to realize the work only mattered to me.”

Norah didn’t respond right away. There was a hot, prickly feeling crawling up the back of her neck—the sense that she’d heard this before, a thousand times, in a thousand other contexts. “You know,” she said, “my mother once told me about a woman who had to survive in a story where even her name was erased, and at the end, it didn’t matter what she’d done, because everyone just remembered her as a side note to the man who came after.” She didn’t say why that particular kind of injustice made her want to punch the water, but it was there in her face.

Mede’s gaze was steady, a single nod that didn’t offer comfort but acknowledged the shape of the wound. “It happens a lot more than you’d think,” she said.

Liesa watched the exchange and decided to keep the mood from tipping over. She slid half a body’s width closer to Gwen, letting her eyes linger on the cut of Gwen’s shoulders. “If you don’t mind me saying,” she murmured, “you look like you could arm-wrestle a shark.”

Gwen grinned, pleased at the attention. “I have, actually. It’s all leverage.”

Liesa laughed and rolled her eyes, but her gaze was soft. She liked women who could joke about their bodies and not make it a weapon.

Through all of this, Elsie had barely spoken, but Norah noticed she kept glancing at Gwen, eyes narrowing each time, like she was trying to place a celebrity she’d seen in a magazine once but never met in person. Each time she caught herself, she looked away, cheeks coloring, but the cycle repeated as soon as the group’s attention moved elsewhere.

It was Liesa who brought the group back to the schedule. “We’re due in the next chamber, soon. Mildred says we get the really cold plunge, if we want.” She pointed her chin at the Mildred standing just inside the gold-veined door, who looked simultaneously patient and ready to close the place at a moment’s notice.

Gwen stood and shook out her towel, not at all hurried. “I’m up for it, if you are,” she said.

Lottie and Mede rose as well, towels wrapped in matching bands around their hips. Liesa gave the Penns a little bow, and the rest of the group followed, gathering at the edge of the pool before heading out together. Elsie was last up, hair dripping, her brown eyes soft and a little lost. Liesa touched her shoulder, just for a second, and that seemed to settle her.

On their way out, Norah tried to catch Mede’s eye, but Mede was already watching her, unblinking.

“See you in the next room,” Mede said.

Norah smiled, genuine and unguarded. “Looking forward to it.”

The six women made their way to the next room, steam swirling in their wake, the sound of their voices—sharp, soft, syncopated—blending into the hush of water and tile.

---

Fiona had never cared for spa culture, but the House of Quiet Waters had a way of making even a skeptic feel seen. The steam soaked the tile in a perfect veil and blunted all sound to the steady, oceanic hush of breathing and water meeting water. She picked a corner of the smallest chamber, arms braced against the edge, legs curled in the hot pool’s shallowest step, and pretended not to watch the gold-veined black door as it shifted with each new arrival.

It was the color that caught her off guard: a flash of mint green, almost luminous in the blue-tinted haze. The naked woman slid into the chamber, hair tied in a loose braid down her back, and eyes direct in a way that made it impossible to look away. She wore nothing, not even the perfunctory towel, and took the steps without hesitation, her bare feet leaving no sound at all.

Fiona waited for the apology, or the request to share the space, or the signal that she’d misread some unspoken rule. Instead, Erin just nodded, like she was clocking an equal, and said, “I’m Erin. You’re Fiona, right?”

“Yeah,” Fiona said, the voice softened by the wet air. She didn’t move from her post, just let her eyes run the quick up-and-down that passed for a handshake in these parts.

Erin found her own place on the far bench and settled in, arms folded loose around her knees. “I can move if you want privacy,” she said, but the offer had no edge to it. She didn’t look like she’d be offended either way.

Fiona shrugged one shoulder, not an answer so much as an acknowledgment. “It’s fine. They told me this was communal anyway.”

Erin smiled, but not in a way that waited for a smile back. “I’m guessing you’re not here for the hot tub, though.”

Fiona’s lips twitched. “No offense, but I’m not here for the company either.”

“That’s fine.” Erin’s tone stayed easy, the words casual. “You get used to it, after a while. The always having people around. Kind of like the world’s weirdest gym locker room, but the trainers never leave you alone.”

There was a beat of silence. Fiona let herself drift, eyes closing, but she was still listening. Erin’s voice was a little rough, like someone who didn’t love talking but had spent enough time around teams to do it anyway.

“How’s your Season so far?” Erin said, and Fiona heard the capital-S in it.

Fiona considered lying, or at least rounding the corners off the truth, but the woman’s posture—open, utterly unguarded—made it feel like a waste of effort. “Fine,” she said, “if you like being permanently on alert, eating weirdly perfect food, and feeling like you’re being watched even when you’re supposed to be alone.” She exhaled.

Erin’s laughter was a rumble, not sharp. “I believe you. Who’s the guy?”

“Van,” Fiona said, then shook her head. “It’s not really a name, but it’s the one he uses.” She looked at Erin. “Yours?”

“Andy,” Erin said. “I’m one of the brides.” She gave a wry smile. “If you had told me, six months ago, that that’d be a sentence I’d say someday, I’d have called you insane.” She tilted her chin up, considering. “You like Van?”

Fiona’s jaw tightened, just slightly. “He’s not stupid,” she said, the words landing flat. “That’s about the nicest thing I can say. He does this thing where he tells you he’s not calling the shots, and you almost believe him.” She looked at the water.

Erin made a low noise, not quite agreement. “I know the type.” She glanced at Fiona, then away. “Andy was like that at first. Then he started leaning into it, but he never really made it a thing. It just happened.”

Fiona watched the other woman carefully. “You trust him?”

The question hung. Erin’s face went softer, but she didn’t look away. “I do. Not at first. Took me a while.” She paused. “We dated, before coming here. Didn’t end well, and I was angry at him for six years. Then we get here. First transformation, and I started this thing with my body only working right… I mean, sexually… if he looked at me. You want to talk about power dynamics, that’s the nuclear option.”

Fiona grunted, not unsympathetic. “And you just… lived with it?”

“Hell no.” Erin smiled, the edges of her mouth hard. “I hated it. Hated him, too, for a stretch. Not because he did anything wrong with it, but because just knowing he could, that he had the switch, that pissed me off. Still does, sometimes.” She laced her fingers together, knuckles whitening. “But you get used to it. Turns out there was a flip side of the coin, at least in this case. And it did force us to take a good look at ourselves and to take our heads out of our asses. You fight until you carve out some part that’s yours, and you hold it even if it’s small.” She looked at Fiona, searching her face for something. “You know what I mean?”

Fiona didn’t answer at first. She let the words soak in, measuring each one. “I do,” she finally said, but quietly. “It’s the same for us. Van keeps saying he didn’t ask for any of it, but it doesn’t matter. If he wanted to, he could just… change things. Any time he wants.” She pushed away from the wall, water sloshing at her side. “It’s not about what they do. It’s about what they could do, and never have to answer for.”

Erin nodded, once, slow.

Fiona let her head tip back against the tile, eyes closed to the steam. “They keep telling me it’s not personal, but it always ends up being that way. You know?”

“Yeah,” Erin said again, voice softer now. “I do.” She reached out, fingers tapping a rhythm on the bench, a gesture too deliberate to be a nervous tic. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Fiona said.

“You ever talk to Laura? Short, black-haired, two bodies, looks like twins. Can’t miss her.”

Fiona blinked, surprised by the angle. “No. Why?”

“She’s seen all of it,” Erin said, almost reverent. “Her dad did things you wouldn’t believe, and Andy was there for all of it. Laura’s got a read on men like that—you, me, everyone else, we can see the structure, but she knows the bones. If you ever want to know if Van’s for real, she’s the one to ask.”

Fiona turned the idea over, not dismissing it but not buying in, either. “What would that conversation even look like?”

Erin’s laugh, this time, was brighter. “Depends. Sometimes it’s like talking to a hurricane. But she doesn’t bullshit. Not ever.”

The pool went quiet for a long time after that. Neither woman felt compelled to fill it. Steam rose, thick and slow, and the only sound was the echo of water slipping over the ledge.

Finally, Fiona unfolded her arms, let her body float forward into the deeper end, and said, “Maybe I’ll try it. Maybe not.” She didn’t look back at Erin, but her voice was less sharp, almost bemused. “But thanks.”

Erin smiled, eyes closing. “No problem.”

When the black door hissed open again, Fiona didn’t bother to watch who came in. She just drifted, content for the moment to feel her own body, unobserved, in the water.

---

Scarlet shivered a little from the cold. Granted, she always felt a little cold in places with a lot of water. There was a reason water was used as a heat sink. Air circulation wouldn’t leech nearly as much heat from her when it was dry.

The House of Quiet Waters was still beautiful, even if it was dropping Scarlet’s body temperature down to the mid 800 degrees Celsius; not enough to give her the oread equivalent of hypothermia, but enough to make her feel slightly uncomfortable. The veins of gold in the stone sparkled. Scarlet sighed as she looked away from the ceiling and towards whoever she could see from her floatie.

She could hear her wife Daphne splashing around and laughing in the distance. She had probably found some deep enough pools to leap into. Her mermaid was always happiest in the water.

Nearby, someone yelped as a splash from Daphne’s latest dive caught them off-guard. And, of course, Alex, her punk goth wish, was squeezing one of Scarlet’s obsidian pocked shoulders as she sat at the edge of the pool they were in.

“Water good, love?” Scarlet asked, not sure what answer she’d get.

“It’s… fine,” the valkyrie replied, “not as good as the magma tub back at your spa…”

“Our spa,” Scarlet interjected.

Alex leaned closer to her wife to finish her thought, “Fine, our spa, but fine. You comfy, dudette? I could ask if we can commandeer a pool to fill with some lava?”

Scarlet took advantage of Alex’s position by stealing a kiss. A little peck on the lips, nothing more, but filled with meaning. She murmured into those black lipstick covered lips, “It’s okay. I will manage.”

“Are we intruding?” Marissa's voice drew them out of their flirting. The therapist was standing on the edge of the pool, a slight smile on her face, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her midsection and failing miserably to conceal both her very respectful cleavage, and her permanently erect nipples. Next to her stood Laura, both of her bodies significantly shorter than Marissa, and also wrapped in matching hotel towels. Laura's electric blue eyes glittered like sapphires in the soft light of the spa.

There was a carefulness to her, too — a stillness in how she held herself that hadn't been there before, like she was balancing something and didn't trust herself to move too fast.

“Oh, my rock-wife is just a little bit chilly right now,” Alex quipped, only to get a love tap on the arm. She smiled as she mock-rubbed the spot.

Scarlet carefully rolled to her side on her floatie, greeting, “Marissa, it’s been too long. I’d offer a hug, but me and this much water doesn’t exactly mix. This is Alex.”

The valkyrie took a slight bow, “A pleasure to meet you, dudettes, and congrats on surviving the Hotel in advance. I heard / saw a lot about you. How’s the pre-wedding jitters? They can be gnarly.”

Marissa grinned at Scarlet. "We've become quite resilient here. A hug is definitely welcome." She unknotted the towel, folded it carefully and slid naked into the water with a sigh of pleasure.

Beside her, Laura studied Alex for a moment, then she nodded with recognition. "Alex, is it?" She smiled, delighted. "I recognize you from the plushie. Thank you for those, by the way. And, no jitters... Well," she corrected herself, "not really. Andy and I already got married a month ago, by Inanna. It wasn't planned, but we're not complaining." She showed the golden ring on her finger.

Alex let out a long, low whistle. “Divinely gifted ring, huh? Fancy. Naked purple goddess mostly just gives me work.”

Scarlet wrapped an arm around Alex’s neck in a loose, well above the water line hug, groaning, “Don’t taunt our boss, love. Eilistraee is crashing the wedding with Laura’s permission and she will prank you by calling you to a battlefield right before the reception.”

“Nah, she’d pull a better prank than that and wouldn’t dare ruin a performance. I am guessing slowly dissolving clothes during my set, so I’m naked by the end.” Alex paused just long enough to jut out her bare breasts, “As if I would be ashamed of showing off the girls.”

“Forgive my wife, a century of our new home may have messed with us a little.”

“Ooh,” Alex noted, skipping over some potential awkwardness, “I arranged a totally rockin’ cover of the Bridal March for, you know, the bridal march. An extended edition, since there are seven of you. And my set for the reception is gonna blow the normies minds!”

Laura grinned in stereo. “I'm looking forward to it. I'll let the others know, as well, thank you.”

Laura took off her towels, and both of her slid into the hot water with a sigh. Her eyes focused on Alex. “I meant to say, thank you for your letter, back when Arabella opened our fanmail. It's both weird and reassuring to know I'm not the only one who was brought back.” A shadow passed over her faces for a moment. Marissa noticed, squeezes the hand of the closest of her bodies, but said nothing. Laura shook off the moment and returned her attention on Alex. “So, a Valkyrie? What's that like?”

“Oh, it’s pretty rad. I’m sure you heard the saying, ‘Be yourself, unless you can be a dragon, then be a dragon instead?’ Being a valkyrie is a lot like that. I rock bikini armor like nobody’s business, I can fly, and do all sorts of metal stuff. Now, I imagine those Odin Valkyries may have different opinions, but naked purple goddess mostly just lets me do my own thing. But, when duty calls, I gotta be off.”

Alex unfurled her wings, carefully wrapping them around Scarlet to keep her a bit warmer, then continued, “I know that the topic might be… sensitive, but battlefields are a spiritually messy thing. So many dying all at once on so many divine sides. The regular reaper types get so lost and confused. And the bureaucracy of afterlife dispatch is a huge pain. So, my job is to wade into the thick of it to find the faithful valiant slain and make sure they get their due reward in Svartlheim instead of being stuck in Arborea or Valhalla or the,” a brief pause to shudder, “The Demonweb Pits.”

Scarlet added, “It does help that your thing is stuff Eilistraee likes anyways.”

“Yeah. Jamming out tunes, learning about languages, practicing how to eat a certain oread out. Life is pretty good.”

“Of course, I am sure you guys have a great life laid out once the show is over.”

Marissa nodded hesitantly. "I am not sure how up to date you are with our season. In any case, tomorrow promises to be... challenging."

Laura frowned. “What she means is that Ereshkigal is coming for me. Because I was brought back via her Edict, she gets to take a life in exchange. And we think she's coming tomorrow.”

“That is a distinct possibility,” Scarlet noted, "Arabella made us sign paperwork.”

“Yup, Harp was especially annoyed. She was totally planning on causing a ruckus. But, we didn't want to be a bummer, you know?”

“What my wife is trying to say,” the oread declared, “is that we are sure that Andy and the rest of you will have figured out that loophole. He'll save you.”

Laura smiled faintly. “Not yet, but I'm sure you are right.” She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring the mood down. It should be a party, not a wake.”

Marissa nodded, taking the cue. “Alex, it's good to finally meet you. Last time Scarlet and I met, neither you nor Laura were back yet.” She looked at Scarlet and leaned back against the edge of the pool. “Andy tells me that a hundred years passed for you, while for us, the party was about one month ago. How is life after Harem Hotel?”

“We haven't truly escaped it, honestly. Harper's been hosting a season. The Mistress is over.. there.”

To the side, a young Asian woman was giggling and whispering, her partner – a young blonde neither Marissa nor Laura knew – darting glances at other women and joining in the giggling.

Marissa raised an eyebrow.

“Anyway, not that you've done much for the season, Scar,” Alex teased, “My lovely rock-wife has a super fancy spa right across from the castle. She's been training temple acolytes in the art of massage. Our equally lovely fish-wife has three sets of twins, one set fully grown, one set mermaid teenagers, one set mermaid toddlers, plus a bunch of magically-made megalodons she's grown strangely attached to? Harp took over for Aelene's mom as Queen back home and things are going pretty well. And Tina has hatched sooooo many kids. Seriously, like 8 to 10 kids a year, for a century.”

“There have been sad moments, of course. A hundred years of living will do that. We buried my parents close to 60 years ago now; I still miss them. We've buried grandkids who died of old age. It tears Harper up inside, every time. But, Harper and all of us are generally doing well. So, the game can have a happy ending; I'm sure you'll get there.”

Marissa smiled, looking at Scarlet. “I have that coupon I intend to redeem when we're out of here.”

It took Laura a beat to catch up to the word *megalodons*, then a slow smile. “Megalodons, you say.” Marissa elbowed one of her, and she seemed to regain some composure.

The grandkids comment caught up with them a moment later; Marissa and Laura both grew somber. “I'm sorry,” Laura said, “That must hurt so much. Andy mentioned that your exit packages from Harem Hotel didn't include a longer lifespan for your children. Is there anything we can do to help?”

Marissa nodded. “Andy's Coauthor Gift works on transformations, now, too. He's used to to ameliorate Katherine's elimination and partially free her.” The subtext was clear: he might help with their exit packages, too.

Laura added, “I mean, I probably could help too, but he's the one with the full-strength Gift. As the Consort, I have part of it too, but I don't know that I can affect TFs.”

Marissa looked at Laura with some surprise. Laura, reading her expression, shrugged. “Arabella said the Consort gains all the Master's Gifts to a degree. I've never had the chance to try any of them so far, but I'm fairly sure she meant more than the strength and resilience Andy has.”

“I'm not sure if either of you could do much about that particular problem,” Scarlet noted, “You'd be changing the nature of our Wish, not our exit transformations. Also, I'm not sure if the issues of extending that part of our Wish to our children would be an universally good thing. About half of the hoppalong population in the capital are already related to Tina in some fashion. Harper has had to pass legislation to prevent inbreeding from that. If all of Tina's kids lived as long as she is likely to...”

“...we'd be up to our eyeballs in horny bunny-girls,” Alex quipped, “Buuuuuut, if you want to test drive your potential Co-Author power, there is a transformation that hurts Harp a lot. She apparently tried to fix it in the shop during the game, but couldn't address the key problem.” The valkyrie looked towards Skye, relaxing with the harem's drow children, trading gardening tips with Hazel. The punk goth continued, “Embarrassed Clothed Female. While our family naturalism rules help, Skye has had to miss so many events simply because Harp needs to be clothed in court and Skye being around her like that causes her to faint. She spent Harp's court marriage to her other wife outside, for naked purple goddess's sake! Tweaking that to where Skye can see Harp at court would make them both smile.”

Laura hesitated. “That sounds a little complicated for a first attempt. But I can ask Andy about it. I'm sure if we put both our head to it, the lovable idiot and I can figure out something for Skye's sake.”

Marissa, in the meantime, listened to the issue regarding the hoppalong population. “I hope for Dawn's sake that her biology isn't the same as Tina's, no offense meant. The poor girl would probably be mortified.”

Scarlet tried her best to reassure her friend, “I’d lean towards Dawn being much closer to human reproductive cycles than Tina. The cat-girl populations at home have gestation times of 5 or 6 months and Claire has the usual pregnancy time, right?”

“Also, those newborn baby hoppalongs are sooo adorable. Imagine tiny babies that can fit in the palm of your hand with bunny ears! They grow quick, but they’re cute.” Alex cooed.

“You do an excellent job avoiding diaper changes, Alex.”

“I think the ‘I help feed them, someone else deals with poopy diapers’ strategy is a perfectly fine division of labor.”

“Seriously, you all should think about having a household manager wherever you settle. Even with Skye as the Royal Steward overseeing a large staff, the nursery wing is a madhouse too often.”

Marissa's cheeks turned faintly pink. “Ah, about Claire… she had her first OB/GYN pregnancy visit last week, and apparently her gestation period is around 6 months, with virtual certainty of multiples due to her fertility transformation.”

Laura patted Marissa's shoulder reassuringly. “I'm sure Claire will be okay. I'm the one-” She suddenly cut off, eyes wide, biting her lower lip. Marissa looked at her in surprise.

“Did you just prank Cat-girl with a reality altering transformation?” Alex asked.

Laura blinked. “No!” She exclaims, her composure slipping. “Claire got a fertility transformation a few rounds ago, before I even returned.”

Marissa's eyes narrowed at Laura, then widened. “Oh!” She said, realizing what Laura meant. “Are you sure?”

Laura nodded sheepishly in stereo. “Yeah. Arabella confirmed it. Please keep it to yourselves - I haven't told everyone yet.”

Marissa opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it. “Okay,” she said, “But does Andy know?”

Laura nodded slowly. “He does. I told him as soon as I was sure.”

Scarlet muttered, mostly to herself, “I could have sworn Dinah said that Claire’s pregnancy was going to be the normal amount of time…”

Alex relaxed into the pool a bit more, then asked, “So, have you worked out the wedding consummation thing yet? There are seven of you and one of him. That takes… logistics.”

Grateful to shift topics—grateful enough that her laugh came out a half-beat too bright—Laura looked at Alex in stereo, two pairs of electric blue eyes staring at the Valkyrie as she replied, “Well, Andy can split, so that makes it easier. The... logistics... becomes easier to manage. Trust me. I would know.” She gestured at her two bodies knowingly. Then her expression grew dark. “Besides, we need to get past the debt first.”

Marissa hugged Laura's nearest body fiercely. “You will be fine.”

Laura looked back at Marissa. “Maybe. But I still wonder—” She cut herself off. “Nevermind. I'm sorry, it looks like I'm not the greatest company tonight. Chalk it up to pre-wedding jitters?”

Marissa's eyes lingered on her a beat too long, the particular look she got when a patient answered a smaller question to dodge a bigger one. She let it go. Whatever this actually was, it wasn't jitters-shaped, and she'd learned by now that Laura would say so herself when she was ready to.

“You got it, dudette!”

“I'll tell you like I told Nyadia, with some fixed names. Andy loves you and wants to spend the rest of his very, very long life with you. He saved you once, he will do it again. Those nerves are just nagging little doubts about that. You'll be fine.”

Alex teased, “Not going to add 'and you can masturbate to make those doubts go away?'“

Scarlet glared at her punk-wife, “I'm not going to use that transformation without disclosure first, love.”

Laura blinked at Alex's tease, and Marissa intervened. “Scarlet can prescribe cures for neurological disorders that standard therapy couldn't solve,” she said, “and true to form for Harem Hotel, they are sexual prescriptions.”

Laura giggled, in stereo, then looked almost surprised at the mirth. “That's... a really useful transformation, actually.”

Marissa nodded, looking at Scarlet fondly. “You know, as strange as it is to know we first wrote each other a century ago, from your perspective... You've been a really good friend throughout all this. I'm trying to be more open with my emotions, and... I wanted to thank you. I know Andy feels the same about Harper, too.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes at Laura’s quip, then replied, “Thank you, Marissa. We were in a very dark place when we first made contact and you helped me hold most everyone together through it. I don’t think we would have gotten out nearly as well without Andy and you. I wouldn’t have my Alex back at the very least. I’m glad that I was able to help you in my small way. I’m sure that Harper has already offered this to Andy multiple times by now, but, whatever you all need, whenever you need it, we’ll do our best to help. Just say the word.”

Alex beamed and wrapped Scarlet up in her wings a little tighter. She leaned her head back and Scarlet gave her another kiss.

“Love you, dudette.”

“Right back at you, love.”

Marissa smiled at Scarlet. “Have you had a chance to speak with Dinah yet?” She asked.

Scarlet looked around for Dinah, seeing her pinned down by Tracy in her lap, who was trying to get a good breast groping in. Claire was busy writing something down on a small chalkboard right by the two of them.

“Not yet, though I am sure we’ll have some time today to catch up; it’s pretty early in the party. Harper and I were also planning on making a trip to the Hollow Garden in the early morning, once she comes out of her reverie. With the Hollow Garden on a different time scale, we should be able to spend a couple of hours catching up before we’ll need to prepare for the wedding.”

Laura nodded. “I think Dinah will appreciate that. She said there were women there whom Harper sent during your endgame.”

“And a couple of eliminated guys, too. That guy that got turned into a flock of pigeons is…” Alex shuddered.

Marissa looked at Katherine, who was happily relaxing in the hot water, eyes closed, head tilted back, a beatific expression on her face, and added, “Maybe see if Katherine wants to come, too. Dinah mentioned that many of the women there would benefit from meeting someone who came back from an elimination TF. It would give them hope.”

Laura glanced at Marissa and nodded. “Right. Doesn't Mona also have someone who came back from elimination in her harem?”

Scarlet nodded, “We’ll check with Katherine, assuming it doesn’t eat up too much of her free time. I wouldn’t want her to miss the reception because we had her get out of the painting at 2 AM, HH time.”

“Jenny’s over there,” Scarlet pointed. The dryad was nervously sitting between Hazel and Erin, all in a row. “She hasn’t gotten used to our brand of nymph not needing sleep yet and she’s been having nightmares about her situation being reversed. It might help her too? She does a lot better when she can focus outside of herself.”

Marissa looked at Jenny, her eyes soft, and she nodded. “That would help her, I think. As would spending time with Katherine, perhaps. Reversing eliminations is so rarely done, that each of them should be a source of joy, not nightmares.”

Laura looked at the dryad and took a deep breath. “Erin and Hazel at least have something in common with her. They can help her come out of herself a bit. But I understand how it feels to be trapped in a story you're afraid will end badly.” She looked at Alex. “I'm glad to hear you are happy, and so is Scarlet, and so are the others.” She smiled. “It's good to know someone else who understands what it means, to come back.”

Alex offered Laura a fist bump, “Like I said, we’re a rare breed, dudette. Don’t forget. And hold on to the ones that fought to get you back. You deserve it.”

Alex saw the grinning Laura in stereo. She met the valkyrie’s fist, one body touching her pinkie, the other her pointer finger. Alex pulled back, opening her fist enough to waggle her fingers, then let out a Thaumaturgy enhanced explosion noise so loud that the reverberations startled Katherine — dozing in her favorite corner of the pool — wide awake and mildly panicked.

Water sloshed over the stone as Katherine blinked upright. For half a second something old and wary crossed her face — then she clocked Alex's delighted cackling, and it melted into a small, real smile. She flicked a little water in the valkyrie's direction, missing by a mile, and settled back against the warm stone. Alex just grinned, unrepentant, wings still curled around Scarlet. “Worth it,” she said, and nobody argued.