Chương 1171: Day One Thousand One Hundred And Sixty-Nine

Dear Diary, Y'know, there's a trope that I saw over and over again back in the day, one I always had a real conflicted relationship with as a consumer of media. It's got a lot of names.

'It's always darkest before dawn' is how I heard it first, but I think the official Trope name is 'Darkest Hour'. It's all about how the heroes are getting close to their limits, but also close to their goals, everything goes fuckin' sideways. The villains get reinforced. The big bad evil guy says 'this isn't even my final form'. The gun clicks empty. The sword breaks. The long, slow, painful slog to the finish line is cut short by something out of the blue.

The idea, of course, is to ramp up the tension right before the heroes win, so that their victory is that much sweeter. Unfortunately, shitty writers have done shitty things then pointed to that shitty trope as if that absolved them of anything. The most common thing they fuck up, of course, is the ass pull. Fancy name is 'Deus Ex Machina'. God from a Machine.

It's named after the device old Greek play directors would use to lower some dude dressed as a Deity onto the stage to fix all the shit the shitty playwright had fucked up. Usually, but not always, by painting their protagonist into a corner.

Less frequently, but still often enough, by having the play clearly and accurately describe some way in which Ancient Greek culture was fucked, was fucking people over, but because that wasn't allowed, since the Gods made society the way it was and Gods couldn't possibly be wrong, the play had to end with the Deity confirming that yes, everything was set back to rights, the upstart usurper was no longer on the throne, the women were back in the kitchen and denied shoes, the slaves had been properly beaten, chained, and returned to their kennels, and all was right with the world.

But people who write that Darkest Hour shit and get it wrong love the Deus Ex Machina, because it makes them feel clever. Some older writers really did do that kind of thing all the time. Especially some of them that were considered 'great writers', which always bugged me. See, the thing is, the Darkest Hour trope really is kinda powerful. It really does ramp up that old tension, and maybe even makes a viewer think that the heroes have lost.

They're just standing there, beat to shit, outnumbered beyond any reasonable chance of success, and the villains are winding up that last shot that will erase all hope for the future. Shit, sometimes they even land it. And then Hope shows up. Thing is, when it's done right, it's not 'Deux Ex Machina' it's 'Surprising yet Inevitable'. Like everybody in the audience goes 'oh, shit, I forgot about that'. Whatever form Hope comes in, it's clearly something that's been stated to be there.

It's not an ass pull so much as a callback. Sometimes it's not even that, it's just something that everybody knows can or even absolutely will happen, but in the heat of the moment everybody forgot about. The sun rises. Somebody quietly says, 'on your left'. Sudden Iowa Class Battleship. Okay, yeah, I kinda pulled that directly out of my ass, but that is kinda my thing. Metal objects entering or exiting my ass, that is. Usually in ways I don't want them to.

Thing is, there are things people forget about Darkest Hours, especially when they are in any way literal. So after spending all day yesterday with Worship pouring in, messages pouring through, and Mana pouring out, I was in a weird kinda dissociative state. Not a terrible one. Almost the flip side of the times I'd tried to disperse myself to my tentacles and wound up almost losing myself.

Except this time it wasn't me tryna feed my Mind into incompatible tentacles, it was my ladies using my Mind, or maybe my brain meats, or whatever part of my Blended self passed for them, as a kind of repeater tower. Right before sunset my ladies showed up at my Altars and snuggled up close to me. I kind of instinctively dropped back to just the bodies on my Altars, but even then I'd had so much happening for so long that it didn't really help. Not enough, anyway.

But I realized the sun was setting, my daughters, my kids, needed food and baths and to be tucked into bed. So I pushed, I forced myself to Co-Locate one of me to the Dining Room in East House at the Homestead. Devorah, Anna, Chloe, and even Alexandra looked up at me. Anna smiled and said, "the Imperator said you might show. Go on, we'll take care of things here." The dissociation didn't let me speak. I felt a little like I did in Mimic Dreams. Only my kids had never been in those dreams.

Had never rushed over en masse and hugged me in those dreams. Had never been there making me feel all at once needed, and loved, and Worshipped, all while Menace looked me in the eyes and said, "we gad dis, Mama. Go do wad you godda do." I gave them all one big squeeze, then dropped back to the eight of me on my Altars. I wasn't certain, but I thought maybe I needed to be in more places than that. Or maybe should have been in more.

As noted, I was dissociating pretty hard, and one of the ways that takes me is not knowing shit. Not being able to articulate things, or track down the why of feelings. So while I had the impulse to be elsewhere as well, I wasn't. Funny, I think I've always been an active part of my Revels before. Object, subject, participant, whatever, I was never really just an observer. The spontaneous Revel that occurred wasn't like that. I wasn't involved, not in any of the ways I had been so many times before.

I got to watch the goings on without being part of them. Not really. My ladies didn't take me there on my Altars, they just curled up behind me, lay against me, and though I felt them still working to arrange our fleet, I watched the goings on in my Temples as much or more than I watched what else each of them was doing. Which, one by one, fell off to nothing but holding me. Holding me as I watched what my Revels were when they didn't focus on me.

I know I've talked a lot about hanky and panky at my Revels, but I've also realized how much of them is about intimacy. About connection. I think somehow that filtered out to my faithful, to my Worshippers. Or maybe it just filtered in to me, and I crave that intimacy because it's what they needed, for someone in a position of power to see them, to show that they were just as important as the people in the big chair.

Because while yeah, after all the kids were asleep, there was some hanky and panky both, most of it was not that. Most of the Revel was... I dunno, kind of like a big, indoor, clothing optional block party. That's the only think I could think of that matched what I saw. Drinking.

Mostly of the shared variety, as somebody brought a pitcher of beer, mead, or stronger stuff down from the bar, or brought it over to where the bar overlooked the sanctuary, and shared it with a bunch of other folks while they sat there drinking and laughing and talking about whatever struck their ever more inebriated minds. Eating.

Again, people bringing plates or platters of food from the bar or the restaurant, or folks moving tables to the overlook to share food and drink and conversation with the folks in the sanctuary. Dancing, both in and around the seats, along the gentle part of the slope up to the Altar, in the clear spaces in the restaurant made by folks moving tables, and most especially in the bar, since that had plenty of floor space just for that.

Singing, both individuals singing to groups as much as to me, and small groups joining together to sing songs of camaraderie, community, and care. Some ballads, some love songs, some songs of solidarity. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Other activities, and I'm not being oblique about fucking, either. Because while some casual sex happened, it wasn't anybody's focus.

Okay, they definitely focused on it while it was happening, as is right and just and good, because that is our oldest, most visceral form of intimacy, and not paying attention then is just rude. But even there I watched some folks join groups, others leave, and nobody seemed to feel any kind of way, because everybody interested in sharing that way... Just did it. Nah, the 'other activities' were things at my other Temples. Like some swimming in Calverton, Norfolk, and Rich Man's Port.

Some shit that I'm not sure what it even was in Troll Home. Troll stuff. Didn't look like sex. Didn't look like talking, exactly. Maybe some wrestling, maybe just holding one another. A lot of people did that. And slowly, slowly, over the course of the night, mediated and amplified by my ladies clinging to me, holding me, Worshipping me, each and every one of me glowed.

Until when the sun crested the horizon and they lifted me from the Altar in a display of righteous Passion and Ecstasy, I shone brighter than them, brighter than the sun. Oddly, still felt like I should have been more places than that. Or maybe like I was, but didn't realize it. I mean, other than one of me slipping back aboard my Black Dragon and maybe boosting her engines a little. Each of them turned me around. Hugged me as the remaining Revelers cheered. Kissed me as they cheered harder.

Then each of them gently head bunted me, and Saffron's words sussurrated through all our ears. By the Revelers' reactions, through all my Temples. Time to go to work, love. Not quite yet. As my own words reverberated through my Temples and my faithful cheered, I took each of them in my arms, in my tentacles, dipped them low, and kissed them. Filled them with Mana and life and Passion until it dripped down their chins. You know the rules.

Indeed we do, replied my Kitten, licking her lips, while leaving the Mana dripping off her chin. Let's be about it then. I Blended and followed each of them as they leapt to their Tentacles. Five to the north of the mouth of the Thames, a thin barrier against the Queen's forces escaping into the North Sea. Two to the south, intermingled with the two dozen Pirate ships and equal number of launches that had been with us or joined us.

Anne rejoined those with her four as the sun rose, and despite some bloodcurdling threats echoing out over the water from Red's ships, he led his seven back to join our ships to the north. He had to, because the ships they'd told us about had launched from the Europan coast, trying to push him back into the Thames, cutting between him and the rest of our fleet. I stepped one of me across to the deck of his ship.

"Hey Red, you okay?"

"Why are we letting them out of the Thames?" he half screamed. I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm guessing you missed the brief?" He just glowered at me.

"If there's a plan, I'm not seeing how it's better than defeating them in detail." I shrugged.

"We've got some tricks that will only work once, but they'll work across a wide area. Also, I'm sure she's got plenty of tricks, and the open water makes them harder. Also, also, her tricks seem to be focused where she's focusing, which means she won't deal well with flankers. Also, also, also, if we fight our way up the Thames, we're gonna have to cut our way through all her mooks, which will probably be bloody, but if we let her gather all her ships, she might feel safe enough to come out here." He scowled at me.

"Because she bloody well will be." I just smiled at him. Brushed his hair back with a tentacle, then set his hat back straight.

"Really?"

"If this doesn't work, I am reserving the right to tell you I told you so."

"Fair." The thing they don't tell you about naval warfare, and oddly enough here and now it applied even more to large scale naval warfare where the more maneuverable side was deliberately avoiding engagement, is that it takes for fuckin' ever. The dozens of ships that had launched from the Europan coast declined pursuit, instead moving to join up with the steady stream emerging from the Thames. By late afternoon, they'd coalesced into a single huge fleet of hundreds of ships and launches.

Aboard the Training, I leaned over to Tallulah.

"Aren't they kinda clumped up?" She just smiled.

"If merchantmen think their crews can fight off pirates, they often will. There is strength in numbers."

"Yeah, but they're sitting ducks for our cannon." She just turned to me and smiled.

"Our what now?" It took me a second.

"Like I'm a him." She nodded.

"Oh, those poor bastards." She nodded.

"They still outnumber both our fleets put together. If they all turn south, almost eight to one. If they head north towards us, closer to twenty to one. I'm just hoping..." I smiled.

"Mind if I use you for a little psychological warfare?" She just smiled at me, so I slipped into boy mode and, projecting an image of us into the sky above the Training, pulled Tallulah into my arms and kissed her. I'd meant to put some snappy patter in there somewhere, but she responded to the kiss as our Sailors cheered. Not just the Sailors on the Training. Hell, not just the Sailors aboard the Tentacles. So instead I just laid one hand on Tallulah's belly and raised an eyebrow. She blushed and nodded prettily.

Holy fuck I knew that was an act, but I almost forgot that watching her. Then, from the center of the fleet that had formed right there in between our two spread out fleets, a single sultry voice rang out, the image of a woman projected into the afternoon sky opposite us. Well, evening sky by this point.

"Foolish girl. You think I won't steal this one away from you too? Wedded bliss or not, I will take everything you have, as I always have, as I always will!" With that, her fleet started moving. I couldn't call it 'leaping into action', but the beginnings of an avalanche don't look fast either. Not until it's all right in your face and covering you. Just then, with the Faerie Queen's forces committed to a direction, Saffron decided to join the sky party.

Projecting herself from where she stood aboard the Seeking at the center of our southern fleet, she announced, "Thames Sailors! The Faerie Queen has ensorcelled your Captains, your Officers, perhaps even you! Even now she leads you to defeat and destruction! But our dispute is not with you! It is with her and her alone! Should any ship strike her colors, should any Sailor surrender and drop their weapons, in the aftermath of our victory they will neither be harmed nor held liable for the Faerie Queen's actions."

As our northern Tentacles began turning their broadsides toward the enemy, the Faerie Queen replied.

"Fool! You still speak as if any of you will walk free by the end of this battle!" Then she chuckled.

"It's almost as if you can't count." Sharks would have run screaming from my Kitten's amplified smile. Shit, shoals of Hunters would flee in Terror. The Faerie Queen's fleet crossed some invisible threshold, probably hitting a speed where they couldn't reverse course, even though we were still a ways from being intermingled. Hell, we were beyond the range of the Tentacles' cannon still, and I think I remembered Swanson recommending Pesce hold off until 'can't miss' range for the first volley.

Saffron's grin got, if anything, more predatory.

"Oh. I assure you, mathematics are my strong suit. Ladies?" The Portals flared. I wound up a little surprised that I didn't feel any of it, because all of it had been set up beforehand. To the south, two dozen ships flying the colors of Camden Yards and Phileo sailed through to join us. To the north, three dozen flagged from Calverton, Rich Man's Port, and Norfolk joined us. And right at the mouth of the Thames the Sneaking slipped into visibility.

I'm not absolutely sure, but I think Siobhan might have had her anchored to the bottom or some sneaky shit, or maybe just Blended into a nightmare. A nightmare that was joined by ship after ship. A dozen from Newark, their hulls still raw and new. A half dozen more with mismatched flags, late additions to the party sent by Boltophsberg, by Compton, by Jackville.

Even one of the fake ships from Muscogee had been finished enough to show up, because Rabbit and Spider thought it was funny, and found enough volunteers to crew it who thought so too. Half a dozen... Not ships. Barely launches. More like big assed rafts carrying Jotnar and Trolls from Troll Home. But then, they only got more dangerous if they sank and their 'crews' had to find some other floating wood to climb on to.

Also nearly half of the Merchant Marine Volunteers, four dozen ships flying New Amsterdam colors, led by Ophelia's flagship, flying House Orange colors. Had to have a talk with that woman about the whole 'commanding officer here, please do not sink' thing. Then again, I was projecting a big assed image of myself and Tallulah still necking. But I was doing it as bait. As our reinforcements arrived, and dusk colored the sky to our east, the Faerie Queen just sneered.

"Now your defeat is assured. Everyone knows the House of Orange cannot win against the Pirates of the Thames." Then she turned to focus on Tallulah and I.

"I told you, all that you have, all that you had, and all that you should have had, it is all mine." She waved one hand, the gesture taking in the North Sea, then waved the other toward the southern end of the Channel, beyond our fleet.

"I have taken your Greatmother's throne." Mist boiled out of the sea in both spots she'd waved at, and as her massive central fleet crossed that invisible line where our cannon could range, long, sleek prows slipped out of that mist. Long, sleek prows like the ships I'd last seen invading Rich Man's Port. Sidhe ships. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds, both to the north and south, glimmering faintly as the sun set to the west.

"I wonder how long your new man will last under my tender care?" Yeah. This bitch definitely forgot something about the darkest hour. Something I'd reminded folks of my first Solstice here and now. I'm the fuckin' reason people are afraid of the dark.