A WORK OF STARGÅTE SG-1 FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2010
		Chapter 4

The First Darkling fluttered down the air duct.  Her wings and fair skin seemed to glow in the near darkness, but flashed to rainbow blurs and pale ivory whenever she passed the indirect light of one of the louvered or grill-covered registers.  She was resplendent in the black leather costume her Dark Sisters had made for her as a token of their love (and slavish devotion).  It was in two parts:

1. A pair of thigh-boots.  Skintight, they laced up the front with a veritable spiderweb of thin, black thongs. Tiny silver rings dangled from each boot at the ankles, above and below the knees, and at the upper thighs.


2. A short-waisted, long-sleeve, open-breasted jacket, also skintight.  Its tight cuffs were doubled and covered her wrists and forearms halfway to the elbows.  Similar to the boots, the jacket incorporated silver rings at the cuffs and elbows, and a slightly larger ring dangled from the belt-like band across the front, below her naked breasts.

The rings were late additions to the costume, and were symbolic of her Mastery of Bondage.  They were fully functional as elements of restraint, of course, and they teased her loyal subjects, constant reminders of the many delicious ways they might be used to bind their Sovereign Sister in hideously contorted positions, for hideously perverted sex.  Such teasing was deliciously cruel, and served as a constant self-reminder, as well.  The mighty can fall, and all it would take would be for one of her Dark Sisters to gain enough support to wrest the title of Dark Mistress from her grasp.  Then she, herself, would become a slave.  She could never allow her grip on authority to waver.

There was one more element, a silver choker encircling her throat—but it was her badge-of-office as First Hatched Dark Fairy, not an element of her costume.  Its wear was required.

From just below her breasts to the tops of her boots, the First-Darkling was stark naked, with her carefully groomed black bush and the crinkled, coral-pink lips of her sex on open display.  This was another tease for her Dark Sisters, a reminder of the ultimate reward of loyal servitude—sex with their Dark Mistress!  It was also highly practical, eliminating the tiresome chore of removing and restoring a skirt or loincloth whenever she chose to bestow such a reward.

Finally, a cylindrical bundle wrapped in black silk was tucked under her right arm.

The First Darkling smiled as she approached two Lightling sentries, leaning on staffs of brown-stained wood.  They were dressed in sage-green and military brown bandeaus and loincloths, ribbon-thin strips torn from Bigling's uniform underwear, and their weapons were decorated with disgustingly colorful bands of tightly wrapped silk thread.  Her own Warriors-of-the-Dark were similarly armed, but they had the good taste to stain their staffs ebony-black, and to use black silk wrappings.  The Light sentries launched themselves into the air and crossed their staffs to bar her path.

"My, my," the First Darkling purred, with an oily smile, "such a fierce display.  A pity I'm not here to put you in your places.  I'm here to see your Mistress."

"I'm not their 'Mistress'," a voice announced from behind the First Darkling's back.

The First Darkling quickly spun to face the rear.  Her smile became even more evil, in an attempt to cover her dismay at allowing herself to be put in such a poor tactical position, and to camouflage the genuine and unaccustomed thrill of pure, unfocused arousal she felt at the sight of the newcomer.

It was her Lightling counterpart, the First Hatched Light Fairy.

The First Lightling's costume couldn't have been more different from the Dark Mistress'.  She was wearing a bandeau, loincloth, and long robe of semi-transparent, multicolored silk.  The many ribbon-like panels were interlaced in a complex weave that tightly wrapped her torso.  The silk swaths were half clothing and half body harness.  Much of her tan, smooth skin was left bare, as were the full length of her lithe, well-toned limbs.  However, even the areas "covered" by the dappled silk were at least partially visible, including her nipples, pubic bush, and sex.  She was wearing a choker, like her counterpart, but it was of gleaming gold, rather than silver.  Tan skin, russet-brown hair, brown eyes, and pink, smiling lips... she was the sun-kissed antithesis of the pale, raven-haired, violet-eyed, leather-clad First Darkling.

"Did you think you could simply waltz into our Lair unnoticed?" The First Lightling inquired.

"If stealth was my intent," the First Darkling countered, "we would be having this discussion under quite different circumstances."

The First Lightling was dubious.  "Possibly.  Why are you here... to throw yourself on my mercy?"

The Darkling was the very picture of innocence.  "And why would I need something like 'mercy', especially from you?"

"You violated the truce," the Lightling accused.  "You ravished The Hailey."

"We harvested her essence," the Darkling purred, "as would have been our business after the Hunt.  Your Dark Sisters have simply... expedited matters."

The First Lightling smiled.  "Perhaps I should 'expedite matters', as well, by capturing you.  Then, we can spend the remaining interval before the Hunt harvesting your essence."  The First Darkling scowled as the Lightling guards laughed.  "Not to worry," the First Lightling continued.  "Open war profits no one.  Why are you here?"

The First Darkling unwrapped her burden, and presented her Light sister with a tightly capped vial.  It was one of the tiny plastic containers used by the SGC's medical and research laboratories to process trace samples.  In the diminutive Fairy's pale hands it was the size of a thermos.  To a Bigling (a giant, wingless human), it was tiny enough to require very careful handling.

"The Hailey's essence," The First Darkling announced.

The First Lightling lifted the vial and examined the milky fluid within.  "I assume you have more of this treasure?"

"Of course," the First Darkling chuckled, and bowed.  "An offering to The Light.  May I suggest a way in which you might reciprocate?"

"Why not?"

The First Darkling smiled and crossed her leather-sleeved arms under her pale breasts.  "Collect the essence of our other prime target before the Hunt.  Your Dark Sisters will observe, but will not interfere."

"An early collection would, indeed, expedite matters," The First Lightling purred.  "I have your word that you won't seek advantage as we accomplish this task?"

"You have it!" the First Darkling growled, her violet eyes flashing.  "Do not insult my honor, and try not to bungle the collection.  Things will be difficult enough as we approach the Hunt."  Without waiting for a response, she eased past the hovering First Lightling and flew away.

One of the Light guards fluttered forward.  "What does this mean, First Hatched?" she inquired.

The First Lightling watched her counterpart disappear down the air duct.  "She means for us to waste our time before the Hunt.  By making the offer, she appears honorable.  If we fail, we begin the Hunt at a disadvantage, with our prestige reduced."

"We are already prepared for the Hunt.  We have time to 'waste'."

The First Lightling nodded.  "We are... and we do."  She restored the vial's silk covering and tucked it under her arm.  "As always with the Dark," she continued, "they accomplished their task by taking the easy, pleasurable path.  We shall show the power of the Light by accomplishing our task the hard way.  Of course, our path shall be equally pleasurable, and we will not fail."

"We will not fail!" both fairy guards chanted, in unison.

Freya was fatigued, and Anise, especially so.  In fact, the symbiont was currently in the meditative trance she sometimes adopted when she wanted to rest after working on a particularly troublesome problem.  Freya could still feel the symbiont's presence, but not her conscious mind.  Fine, she thought.  Let her subconscious mull over the physics, and I'll think about what to do about the Tau'ri.
 
In her opinion (both symbiont and host) Hammond and the others were overreacting to what was clearly a medical situation.  She was willing to accept that the device they were trying to construct might be emitting some previously unknown radiation, and that theoretical energy might be causing hallucinations—and that was a very big if—but there was no clear evidence of anything manifesting itself in space-time.  And it was certainly premature to worry about "fairies" invading General Hammond's command.

She thought back to the long, frustrating meeting that had occupied most of the afternoon.  General Hammond, Colonel O'Neill, Teal'c, Dr. Jackson, Major Carter, Dr. Felger, and the physician Keller had been in the chamber overlooking the Tau'ri's chap'ai, trying to determine what was known, what was unknown, and what should be done.  As usual, the Tau'ri displayed the lack of intellectual discipline which made them so irritating to the majority of the Tok'ra.  Paradoxically, their ability to more easily "think out of the box" also made them dangerous enemies to the Goa'uld... and valuable allies to the Tok'ra (irritating, but valuable).

In any case, the allies in question had wasted time trying to conflate what were obviously unrelated events into a "theory".  Granted, there had been a series of unusual events at the SGC during the last couple of days—Major Carter and Lieutenant Hailey's hallucinatory episodes—acts of petty theft and vandalism throughout the base—and finally, unexplained delays in the termination of recent stargate activations.

"A little, uh, 'shrinkage' of the Supply inventory is a fact of life," General Hammond had said, "and the amount of gold and silver wire that was stolen is trivial."

"There's no excuse to steal," O'Neill huffed.

Daniel Jackson smiled and cleared his throat.  "I've seen the Air Force Post-it notes, writing pads, and pens in the desk drawer at your cabin, Jack," he muttered.

"I sometimes work at the cabin," Jack had responded, defending himself awkwardly.

"In any case," Hammond continued, "MSgt Kerkorian is more worried about the circumstances of the theft than the loss of a couple of feet of wire.

"An unlocked cabinet?" Teal'c had responded.  "Surely it was simply an error on the part of Supply personnel."

Hammond shook his head.  "The lock on the cabinet was open, but the outer cage was locked, and its cargo seal intact.  The storeroom was secured the night before by two personnel, as verified in Supply's security log.  The cameras in the corridor show nothing, not counting the SF roving patrols, until oh-eight-thirty the next morning, when the MSgt himself unlocked the outer door."

"A locked room mystery," Daniel muttered, deep in thought.

"And on the daily security summary, there are multiple reports of underwear and civilian clothing items either missing or vandalized, including..." The General consulted a sheet of paper.  "Seven silk scarves, missing.  Three pair of, ladies' unmentionables, missing."

"And yet," Jack whispered under his breath, "you mentioned them."

"Colonel!" Carter chided, but couldn't suppress a smile.

Hammond did a slightly better job of suppressing his reaction to the Colonel's wry humor.  "Two leather jackets," he continued, "vandalized."  He let the paper drop.  "I was shown one of the jackets.  Small strips and geometric shapes had been cut from the back and side panels.  It was almost like someone had cut out patterns to sew Barbie-doll costumes."

"Barbie doll costumes?" Jack asked, with raised eyebrows.

Hammond chuckled.  "Two granddaughters, remember?"

"Oh," Jack responded, "I was afraid it was something they teach you at General School I didn't know about."

The rest of SG-1 broke into fits of poorly controlled laughter, including what was very nearly a spit-take by Teal'c, who had been sipping his coffee.  Felger and Keller's reactions were more horror than mirth, being less familiar with Hammond's loose command style—with regard to SG-1, that is.

Anise simply ignored the exchange as another example of the Tau'ri's need to constantly engage in social bond reinforcement.  "If we may return to the other matters of interest," she said, "the problems with your chap'ai are almost certainly another example of the difficulties you will continue to experience until you take the Tok'ra High Council's advice and replace your 'dialing computer' with an Ancient control pedestal."

Sam shook her head.  "That's not it," she said.  "I checked the logs.  Starting two days ago—right about the time we started testing our prototype, in fact—the gate started drawing about 13-percent more power than usual, and the termination of outgoing and incoming wormholes started taking up to seven seconds longer that ever before."

"Our device couldn't possibly be affecting the chap'ai," Anise responded.

"In sub-space!" Felger gasped.  "It could be another sub-space effect."

Anise favored the Tau'ri scientist with a withering gaze.  "Another sub-space effect?" she intoned.  "One might as well posit a magical or religious explanation.  I have already explained how sub-space folding was responsible for the residual effects we documented in Major Carter's laboratory."

"Either that, or it was horny fairies," O'Neill muttered.

"Colonel!" Sam and Hammond complained.  Sam's tone signaled acute embarrassment, while the General's was one of clear warning.

"Sorry, Major," O'Neill apologized.  "Couldn't help myself."

"You never can," Daniel muttered, then addressed Anise.  "So, you don't think any of this is related?"

"How could it be?" Anise responded.

"I cannot address the physics or mathematics," Teal'c said, "but it is difficult to dismiss these events as mere coincidence."

"Yeah, my gut agrees," Daniel said.  "Something is going on."

"But we don't know what," Carter added.

"These are truisms," Anise had noted, and was ignored.

"My immediate concern is the security of this facility," Hammond said.  "I'm setting Threat Condition Bravo, and I want all of these matters investigated further."

The team had nodded in acknowledgment—and then wasted the next hour debating who was going to investigate what and how.

It was finally agreed that the scientists would handle the science, and the others would handle the non-science.  It's a wonder the Tau'ri get anything done, Anise thought.

And here she was back in her guest quarters, removing her clothing and preparing for bed.  Nude, she turned out all the lights but one, the reading light on the nightstand.  She then pulled back the covers, reclined on the soft surface (the overly soft surface, not at all like a proper Tok'ra sleeping pad) and closed her eyes to begin her pre-slumber meditation.

Suddenly, she heard a whirring, fluttering hum, as if a large insect was in the room.  She opened her eyes—and gasped!

A fairy—a naked fairy no bigger than her hand—was hovering in midair above her head!  Its long, reddish-brown curls drifted around its smiling face, stirred by the beating of its rainbow-hued wings, and it—she, it was definitely a she—had a gold torc-collar around her throat—and she was Janet Fraiser!  She was a tiny, flying Janet Fraiser, with elongated, pointed ears!  It's affecting me too! Freya thought, whatever 'it' is!  (Anise was still "unconscious", in meditation.)  A hitherto unknown sub-space effect that causes hallucinations!  And psychological suggestion from my conversations with Major Carter is at work!  And—

"Good evening, Frey-yah," the fairy said, in a high-pitched voice.  "We have come for you."

"What?" Freya demanded.  Anise, wake up!! she screamed, mentally—but her symbiont's consciousness didn't stir.

"The Snake-Lady is asleep, Frey-yah," the fairy said, with a twittering laugh, "and will not awaken before dawn.  We have seen to it."  Suddenly, from all directions, the fairy was joined by a dozen more fairies, all perfect copies of the first, except that none of the newcomers had gold collars.

"We have come for you," the fairies chanted, in unison, and raised their right hands, as one.

There was a flash—Freya felt as if she had been struck by the stunning beam of a zat'ni'katel—then—all was darkness.

Freya opened her eyes.

She was still in the quarters assigned to her by the Tau'ri, on the bed, and was still naked—but now she was on her back with her arms and legs outstretched in a full spread-eagle!  She screamed, both mentally and with her voice—but Anise still didn't respond and the tape plastered over her mouth stifled her cry for help!

And she was bound—but in a way that was nothing like the rope, ribbon, and leather thong bondage of the stylized Bridal Abduction practices of her home world.

Freya was bound with thread, meter upon meter of thin thread.  There was also thin cord, but her bonds were mostly thread.

And where on her body was she bound?  Just about everywhere!  Fingers, toes, ankles, wrists, knees, elbows, thighs, waist, breasts—all were lashed in loops of thread, and all of it was elaborately interwoven and pulled tight!  She attempted to lift and turn her head, and discovered that even her hair was bound.  It seemed to have been braided in about a dozen places, and while it wasn't as restrictive as the rest of her bonds, it was restrictive enough!

Dozens... no hundreds... of the Tau'ri's bent needles—what did they call them?—safety pins!—hundreds of safety pins had been thrust through the top sheet and the fabric of the underlying mattress, clipped closed, and then used as lashing points.  The web of thread binding the individual fingers of her right hand were distributed through more than two dozen of the things.  More pins secured the thicker cord binding her wrists and ankles, and long lengths of the cord ran out of sight, over the sides of the mattress.  Presumably, they were knotted to the bed-frame or the base of the headboard and foot-board.

And there was more—much, much more!

Threads encircled or were stretched across her entire body every few centimeters, and they were hitched and tied to each other, as well.  Everything was tight enough to dimple her skin, and the tension was so well-distributed that her most energetic struggles were defeated with ease.  She might have been able to snap a few individual threads—but there were hundreds of lashings pinning and ensnaring her limbs, digits, and toes, preventing her from exerting any real force!

And who had perpetrated this outrage?  The Janet-fairies, of course, and they were still at it!  Three fairies were on either side of her torso, gripping a pair of threads as if they were having a tug-of-war.  A seventh fairy was hovering above her breasts.

"Tighter!" the hovering fairy cried, and the fairies on either side pulled on the threads.  The network of interlaced threads tied around and across Freya's breasts tightened.  "More!" the fairy ordered, and her tiny winged companions heaved, once again.

Freya squirmed in her bonds and mewled through her tape-gag.  The web of threads stretched across her tits was biting into her skin, and the loops ensnaring her nipples were causing the flushed nubbins to bulge.

"Perfect," the hovering fairy announced and the fairies began tying a flurry of knots.  Freya realized the hovering leader was the fairy with the gold collar.  "Begin the harvest," she ordered, then focused on Freya's worried, wide-eyed face.  "A night of pleasure for you, Frey-yah, and for us."

Freya screamed through her gag!  The fairies—all the fairies, with the exception of the collared fairy-in-charge—were now running their tiny hands over her helpless body—and it was more than just being on the receiving end of a gentle massage from twenty to thirty minuscule hands.  Freya lifted her head, raising it up until the hair-bonds snapped taut and her scalp complained.  The fairies' hands were sparkling with multicolored tendrils of energy, and wherever they touched her body, titillating, unendurable sensations rippled across her skin.

It was like being tickled with cold fire, or caressed with feathers that were alive!

"MMMRFH!" she screamed through her gag, as they caressed her ribs, armpits, thighs, the soles of her feet!

Only the collared fairy didn't participate.  She continued hovering, smiling down at Freya's distressed face.  "I remember you from before, Frey-yah," she purred.  "The Snake-Lady was rude and disrespectful.  You, on the other hand, were very nice.  That doesn't mean we can't have fun, of course."

It was getting very difficult to concentrate on the fairy's words—to concentrate on anything but the scintillating hands playing over her bound body.  Freya's heart was hammering as she panted through her flaring nostrils and moaned through her gag.

Now, a pair of fairies bounced on her thread-bound breasts, squealing with delight as they soared into the air, flipped in graceful, acrobatic somersaults, and landed on her breasts, treating them like hemispherical trampolines.  They used their wings mostly for balance and control, and their minuscule weight caused her boobs to bulge against their nets of thread, then rebound and oscillate between each bounce.  It didn't really hurt, but it felt very strange—especially as the fairy's tiny feet and hands sparkled with more of the weird fire when they landed on her soft flesh.

And now, even as the breast-bouncing continued, glowing fairy hands were caressing her labia!

"MMMRFH!"

It was unendurable, and infinitely pleasurable.  Freya tugged on her wire-thin bonds and struggled for all she was worth, doing her best to escape.  However, in the back of her mind—in the part not occupied by her still slumbering symbiont—Freya was aroused!  She reveled in her helpless plight.  This was the purest essence of her precious Captured Bride fantasy, and even the bizarre presence of the tiny, impossible fairies couldn't spoil the experience.

Two of the fairies grabbed a third fairy by her arms, and she tucked her pointing feet between Freya's labia.  Then, they slid the fairy's entire body, including her folded wings, into Freya's vagina—then pulled her out—then slid her in, again!

"NRRRFH!" Freya screamed.  The fairy was using her toes to tickle her clitoris as she slid past!

"Weeeee!" the gliding fairy giggled.

"Nice and slow, my Sisters," the collared fairy chuckled.  "We shall all have a turn in Frey-yah's love-tunnel, and it is many hours until dawn."

"MMMMMMRRRRFFF!"

THE NEXT MORNING

---

Colonel O'Neill hurried down the passage to the VIP Quarters area.  Ahead, Major Carter and a squad of SFs were clustered around one of the doors.

"Still no answer, sir," Carter reported.

O'Neill nodded, and watched as one of the SFs used a specialized tool to pry the pin from the door's top hinge.  The pins of the other two hinges were already on the floor.  It was a subtle and deliberate design feature of the guest quarters that the hinges of all the doors were on the corridor side.  The electronic privacy locks were provided as a courtesy, but if a guest tried to abuse the privilege by damaging the lock or barricading the door, their SGC hosts could still gain entry without resorting to destructive force.

"And you're sure she's still in there?" O'Neill asked.

"When she didn't show at the lab this morning," Sam explained, "I checked the mess hall, then came here and knocked.  No answer, so I summoned Security."

"In other words," O'Neill intoned, "You don't know."

"Uh... yes, sir," Carter responded, a little sheepishly.

The SF had finished removing the pin.  He set down the tool and carefully grabbed the top and middle hinges while another SF grabbed the doorknob.  The remaining SFs put their hands on their holstered weapons and stood at the ready.

"We're coming in!" Carter shouted, then nodded.

"Hope you're decent!" O'Neill added (earning himself a roll of the eyes from Sam).

The SFs heaved and pulled the door from the frame, then slid it to the side.

The group froze in surprised horror (among other reactions).

Freya was spreadeagled on her bed, on her back, and bound with countless threads of... thread.  A wide piece of white tape was over her mouth, and she was... naked!

"Uh... that would be a 'no'," O'Neill muttered, then cleared his throat.  "Carter and... Airman."  O'Neill nodded towards the only female in the squad of SFs.  "Secure the room and help her.  The rest of you, secure the corridor.  And somebody send for Medical."

With a clatter of boots and a chorus of "Yes, sir," the orders were executed.

O'Neill remained in the corridor.  Once he heard Carter's announcement of "Clear!", he stood at parade rest with his back to the door.  From the corner of one eye he noticed one of the SFs mouth a silent "Wow!" to one of his companions and make a not-so-subtle two-handed gesture that translated to "Massive hooters!"  The Colonel smiled.  They were Airmen, not monks, and their focus remained on their duties.  (Besides, Anise/Freya did have one seriously magnificent rack.)

"Colonel!" Carter called.

O'Neill turned to find Carter waving him forward.  The Tok'ra was still on the bed, but her bonds had been cut, her tape-gag removed, and her body covered with a white top-sheet.

"Jack!" Freya exclaimed, a happy smile on her face—and from her voice it was Freya, the host, and not Anise, the symbiont.

"Uh, what happened?" O'Neill asked as he approached the bed.

Suddenly, Freya tore the sheet from her body and launched herself at O'Neill.  "Take me, Jack!" she shouted, and wrapped her arms around the startled Colonel.

"Hey!" O'Neill objected.

"Take me!" Freya demanded.  "I want to be your captive!"

"I think she's in shock," Carter said (heroically suppressing her vast amusement).

"I think she's smashed out of her ever-lovin' mind," O'Neill muttered, struggling to extricate himself from the naked, sweaty, flushed and giggling scientist.  "Stop it!"

"You want me to restrain her, sir?" the female SF asked, holding out a pair of plastic cable-ties (and, like the Major, also struggling to maintain the proper professional decorum).

"Oh yes!" Freya squealed, "but you do it, Jack!  I want you to bind me!  I want... I—"  Her eyes rolled up and she went totally limp in O'Neill's arms.

"Get the damn sheet," O'Neill muttered, nodding towards the bed, "and wipe that smirk off your face, Carter!"

"I don't know what you mean, sir," Sam replied (still struggling not to smile).  She retrieved the sheet and helped wrap it around Anise's unconscious form.

"Medical is on the way, sir," an SF announced from the hallway.

O'Neill hefted the limp and now decently covered Anise into his arms.  "I'm not waiting," he said, and carried his burden out the door and down the corridor.

"Secure the room," Carter ordered.  "No one goes in 'til I get back.  I'm going to my lab for some equipment."

"Yes, ma'am," the SF in charge of the detail acknowledged.

The sounds of the Colonel's and Major's boots faded into the distance. 

"So..." one of the SFs said.  "Another boring Air Force day at the SGC."

Sam entered the elevator and punched the button for sub-level 19.  Let's see now, she thought, mentally ticking items off the list of what she would need for a survey of Anise/Freya's quarters, the modified T.E.R., the survey camera, and the laser-theodolite.  That should be enough for now.  The elevator door swished open, and Sam started forward.

—Ziiiing!—

Sam gasped—and immediately collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

The Janet-fairies—all the Janet-fairies—emerged from behind the overhead pipes, from around equipment panels mounted on the walls, and from other places of concealment.  To Sam's right, the Darklings formed a hovering phalanx with their silver-collared leader at the fore.  All were clad in various, minimal costumes of black leather and silk.  The Lightlings, led by their gold-collared First Hatched, hovered to the left.  All of them were scantily clothed in silk, mostly in shades of sage-green and military-brown, but often with accenting bands of brighter colors.

"Let the Great Hunt begin!" the First Lightling announced.

"Let the Great Hunt begin!" the First Darkling agreed, and all the fairies on both sides erupted in happy cheers.

The Lightling leader gestured and one of her tan, auburn-haired companions fluttered forward.  "I appoint my Second Hatched as Light Marshal."

The First Darkling made a similar gesture and ushered forward one of her raven-haired, pale subordinates.  "And I appoint my Second Hatched as Dark Marshal."

"We swear to control The-Queen-as-Prey without prejudice," Both Seconds intoned in unison, "favoring neither the Dark nor the Light, to keep her from harm and from freedom, until the fates have decided the final outcome of the Hunt.  So shall it be."

"So shall it be!" all the fairies chanted.

"Bring The Queen into the fey world, and bind her for the First Chase," the First Lightling ordered, then smiled at her Dark counterpart.  "With your agreement, of course."

"Shrink and bind her!" the First Darkling ordered.  "Let our eyes behold our Queen naked and helpless."

Laughing with glee, all the fairies of both sides descended on Sam's sprawled, unconscious form.