What Little Remains Of Terpsichore Ironheart

"So," I said the next morning. "Unless you got here two minutes before I did, Aunt Rebecca, I'm sure you generated some amount of gossip that I'd like to catch up on."

For three hundred years, this house had only had three residents: Napoleon, Ariel, and Frederick. Eighteen years ago, they added a fourth resident, and soon enough, said fourth resident started bringing over a fifth for dinner on a regular basis.

This morning alone, the breakfast table was host to nine people, which was on the upper end of what Napoleon's dining room was equipped to handle.

"Well, Napoleon had some questions about how I've somehow turned into an elf who looks perpetually young, while Frederick is still a half-elf who looks like he's going to die any day now," Aunt Rebecca said. "And..."

"Terpsichore's bloodline is touched by dragons, it turns out," Napoleon said. "Your Aunt Rebecca is a Black Dragon."

"You were asleep when I got in," Rebecca added, looking at Frederick. "What about you? Did you manage it?"

"Lost interest in continuing to refine my blood, after Mom died," Frederick said, sighing. It made sense he wasn't a Black Dragon- if he was, he wouldn't be a creaky old man in a wheelchair, his hair and skin having lost the warm and lustrous colors of his youth from age and lack of sunlight because going outside was too much of a hassle these days. "I'm not even half dragon, after all these years; the dragon's blood has faded to near uselessness, and I'm not going to live that much longer than the typical half-elf."

"Disappointing, but a solvable problem with a Black Dragon who loves you present," I said, shrugging. "Dad, how about you? Any dragon's blood in your veins?"

"Not a drop," Dad said. "Neither does your mother, so unfortunately, you're out of lu-"

I lifted a hand, wordlessly flexing it as scales and claws manifested from its flesh.

"Are you fucking shitting me," he said flatly.

"I only found out after I got to Mount Fate," I said calmly. "Jason Goldmist has been pretty helpful in helping me figure out this whole dragonblood thing, although... well, he's not perfect."

"Ariel, did you fuck my brother?" Dad asked.

"He's not my type," Ariel said dryly.

"Then how did our daughter become dragonblooded?" Dad demanded. "Frederick?"

"Don't look at me," Frederick said, defensively. "I just told you my dragon's blood has faded to nearly nothing- that doesn't happen over a span of only twenty years."

"Well, I'm a Cleric of The Father, now," I began.

"You're what?!" Frederick demanded. "Since when?!"

"Since a Hellknight killed me for the second time in one day, and The Father cheerfully informed me that he needed someone to wield one of his Aspects against Demon King Paimon so that the prick would die permanently," I said. "I did then die a third time that day, but Paimon also died, and unlike me, he didn't have a fully-trained Healer on hand to bring him back afterwards. And now the shattered skull of a Demon King graces my mantelpiece."

"...I am still upset about you ripping my throat out with your teeth," Silas said, finally, "but I am less shocked and surprised that you managed to do that."

"What aspect?" Dad asked.

"Beg pardon?" I asked.

"Did I never..?" Dad began. "Well, I suppose you genuinely aren't aware of this, so... Theology time. The Mother and The Father are not Living Gods, but rather, Transcendental Gods, and thus have more than a single Divine Aspect. And because of this, they have two tiers of clergy: the lower tier of clerics each have access to only a single aspect, while the upper tier has access to all aspects of their god."

"Interesting," I said, tapping my chin.

"I'm a full Paladin of the Mother," Faith said. "Freedom, Justice, War- my remit is for all of them, not just one in particular."

"This is... not the first time I've been in a room with one of your calling," Dad said. "But before today, it was a rare honor, that grew increasingly common as I distinguished myself as a Mage-Knight. There are never more than a hundred in the whole world at once. The Father, it is said, has called exactly one thrice-blessed cleric in the grand fullness of all time- an immortal time-traveler, who can be everywhere and do everything, and work The Father's will upon the world single-handedly. So... when The Father called you, which aspect did he call you to?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Father?" I asked, silently.

"I've actually called twenty five thrice-blessed clerics in the entire timeline," The Father said. "The notion that I only have one is a misunderstanding I've spread on purpose; I once remarked that I would only strictly need one, but of course, even with eternity, and no man stepping in the same river twice, the simple fact is that some people are better suited to different tasks."

"Huh. So, what tasks do you have lined up for me?"

"Killing Paimon. You get to keep my blessing as payment. Do with it as you will."

"...Really?"

"I can see everything that has ever and will ever happen, and it is beyond your ability to alter the course of the timeline. If you were ever going to do something I strenuously disapproved of, I would have simply picked someone else."

"...Does that mean keeping that misunderstanding you've deliberately fostered?"

"Tell the others you are a cleric of Time."

"My aspect is Time," I said, finally. "Which brings me back to where I was originally going with this anecdote: it is entirely possible that I will, at some point, go back in time and be the one to dose my younger self with dragon's blood, so that I will be dragonblooded for the events I went through so far that only played out that way because I was dragonblooded."

"The Father allows time travel?" Aunt Rebecca asked. "I would've thought that the God of Time was very particular about keeping the timeline stable and unpolluted."

"That's nowhere in the doctrine," Frederick pointed out. "Of course, Time Clerics are the rarest of the Father's clergy, so it's not like we could've reasonably asked one of them, but... still. That's just an assumption."

"The Father's gift of time travel doesn't let me change the timeline," I said. "The timeline is like a book that's already been fully written- just because I can go back to reread previous pages doesn't mean I can change what's written there or what will be written on the pages between them." I shrugged. "But, hey, just because I can't rewrite history doesn't mean the time travel is useless. Among other things, it's very convenient for getting everything done on a strict deadline."

"Working for a god has its perks, yes," Mom said. "None have ever employed me, but I've met plenty who did manage to land that job."

"Usually, when the gods empower you, it is because they want you to do something for them," Dad said. "Gods like Asklepios are pretty easy to please, because they just want you to heal people, but The Mother and The Father have more wide-reaching aims. I suppose it may just be that The Father thinks you'll just naturally do his work on your own initiative?"

"It's more that I've already done the thing he empowered me for, and I get to keep the powers as payment for services rendered," I said. "Anyhow, Volex, do you want to sit down? You already made breakfast, I'd hate for you to be stuck cleaning up and miss the conversation."

"You're out of chairs, aren't you?" Volex said.

"There is a tenth chair, and even if there wasn't, this would hardly be the first time you've sat in my lap," I said.

"So that's your Aunt Volex, yes?" Silas asked, turning to glance at his mother.

"In the flesh," Rebecca said, nodding. "Really, she was my Hearth-Mother, but she didn't want to think of herself that way."

"I wasn't your Hearth-Mother," Volex said, as she sat down in my lap, leaning against my shoulder. "I swear, you help a girl with one relationship problem, and she decides you're her mom."

"It was more than one," Dad said.

"We only found Volex's reliquary pretty recently," Talia said. "Same adventure we got that statue of Terpsichore back. So, y'know, Cat grew up only knowing about Volex through stories, just like Silas over there."

"Ah, I see, I see," Rebecca said. "Well, Catherine, how are you getting along with her now that you've finally met her?"

"She's my Familiar," I admitted. This was an uncomfortable and tricky subject to broach; when Volex and I weren't here, in the presence of my family who knew her as 'Aunt Volex,' we were both content to ignore the issue, because we'd only met a few months after my 18th birthday. Here, though...

"Apparently Volex gives really good blowjobs," Talia added, because she had no compunctions about starting drama that I would have to deal with, simply because it was funny.

"You're still fucking my aunt?!" Dad exclaimed.

"Look, a contract is a contract," I said.

"Gods preserve me," Rebecca murmured.

"I don't see the big deal," Silas said, shrugging. "Volex isn't Catherine's aunt, after all, and she certainly seems content with the arrangement. The fact that the older Ironhearts are uncomfortable with it doesn't matter; they're not part of this."

"True as that may be, that still doesn't make me like this," Dad said.

"Aunt Rebecca, do you plan to stay for New Year's?" I asked.

"I guess nobody cares about my holiday plans," Silas said.

"Alright, Mister 'I was dead until yesterday,'" I said. "Let's hear 'em. What exactly do you have lined up?"

"I did actually have plans with my girlfriend, but she reads the newspapers," Silas admitted. "I don't like my chances of going back to Grigia and reuniting with her, but... well, it wasn't a terribly committed, long-term bond, anyhow. She saw me as a cute half-elf more than as Silas Ironheart."

"As it so happens, we will be staying for the New Year," Aunt Rebecca said. "I've got eighteen of those to make up for, so..."

"Don't put yourself through too much trouble," I said. "You've missed a few, but we're elves. You'll be there for plenty more."