Cormac was practically trembling with rage as he walked the maze of the castle. He had been able to hold his temper in check well enough for the Fae in the room not to sense there was an issue, but he was quickly losing sight of why he'd come to lend his hand and becoming more focused on confronting those who had perpetuated this falsehood upon his life. He felt no guilt toward what he had done to Emma in order to obtain the information he needed; he felt only a stinging sensation in his knuckles from where he'd broken her enchanted mirror. The irony that he was a perfect replica of his father's unbridled anger was lost on him, as he had no knowledge that the Seelie King had broken the mirror some time before him.
He found himself in a massive meeting hall not unlike a throne room itself, where it seemed the Fae had started gathering. Actually, it didn't seem like it - they were definitely having some sort of pow-wow. "What's this, then? A fun gathering that I wasn't invited to?" he called out, approaching them with a measured swiftness to his steps. Control, Cormac. Don't show your full hand yet.
Alistair did not like surprises. As King, there was sometimes no way to avoid them, but they were rare, and that rarity made them all the more irritating when they cropped up. This particular surprise was worse in that it was both pleasant and infuriating. Since it was Artemesia, that made more sense than anything had in ages.
He was technically in Diamond's castle stronghold by invitation from Noelani Jordan, delivered by his cousin, who had escorted him to quarters that he could call his own during his stay as soon as he'd arrived, and then left him be with limited information. Apparently, Jordan was currently occupied, and would speak with him before they had a more public meeting with the individuals that had been gathered, likely as an offer of respect and because they'd had limited interactions. It wasn't often that the Seelie King had dealings with hunters in this realm, even this highest tier.
The very instant he'd shut the door behind him, intending to join Murphy and Eithne to catch up a bit before he spoke with Jordan, there was a form beside him, taking him by the arm and falling into step with a force to it that suggested that she was leading, for the moment. He didn't show his surprise visibly, no flinch or startled remark, but he'd give it to her - no one could startle him quite like Artemesia, what with her affinity for shadows and darkness. "Hello, darling, how good to see you," he told her instead, the irony being that he didn't actually look at her. He shifted his arm so that it looked more like he was escorting her properly rather than being dragged along (nobody dragged him anywhere, and it was only when she'd found the more secluded room that she was seeking that he took his arm back so that he could face her. Obviously, she was much more familiar with this place than he was, but he'd known that.
"We need to talk about your son," she said, and he could hear something in her voice - anger, strain, upset. It might have made him feel bad about the chuckle that escaped him at the 'your', but really, that was rich, considering he hadn't been allowed any contact all these years and the boy didn't even know him.
"Oh, this is going to be good. What has he done?"
Artemesia held up her hand, removing the Glamour she had over it. Beneath the perfectly fine, white skin that she normally had, there was a massive crucifixion style hole from where Cormac had forced her to pin herself to her desk with the iron poker. Irina had only iced over it to stop the poisonous iron flecks from spreading, but that said nothing of the wound that had already occurred. Her veins running across her hand were black, spider-like, and her hand trembled from obvious pain. The humor he'd found in her wording vanished like it had never existed, and though he'd already had more contact with her just walking down the hall than he had any of the times they'd interacted on official business since the day they'd made their promises, he reached for her hand with a gentle hand, careful and obviously concerned.
"He did this? How?" he demanded, though his tone was softer, much less the guarded politeness he'd reserved for her all these years. That he had a damn good idea how Cormac could hurt his mother, the Unseelie Queen and the most powerful woman Alistair had ever known, was not helping his thoughts on the matter. "Is he a Mesmer, Artemis?"
She yanked her hand away, practically baring her teeth at him. "Well he isn't a fucking Ifrit." Irina chose that point to conveniently make herself known, clearing her throat loudly.
"My Queen, I think it's best we announce your presence before someone gets the wrong idea about our being here." She paused. "Also, they may get the wrong idea because I froze one of their humans." She didn't sound even a little apologetic. Fucking Unseelie.
He didn't care about her freezing one of their humans, or even if she was expressing concern regarding their presence (he had been invited, afterall), but he did care about her interrupting an important, personal conversation. Still, he drew in a deep breath and swept his hand out with an incline of his head to Irina in a gesture to go in front of them, offering his arm to Artemesia once more to escort her, since it didn't sound like she'd quite been invited, not if there was concern about the hunters getting the wrong idea. "I'm here on business. It seems Midnight may be a potential Fae problem, so you may want to join me."
For obvious reasons, he tried for a bit more information as they walked, which was how he found out about the mirror that had already been repaired since he'd broken it, which he couldn't help finding some small measure of humor in, though it wasn't a very pleasant type of humor. He was in full control currently, but he was angry, make no mistake. He and Artemesia had plenty between them to fight about should they ever try to mend their relationship even the slightest bit (it might have been easier for them both to try to let it go), but he would never wish harm upon her and he would certainly have killed someone else who had done this to her. That it was his son, their son, made it tricky and would save the boy's life, but it still had to be dealt with.
Murphy and Eithne were already present, actually chatting with a few of the fae hunters that had been brought in to help, Link and Mary, they were introduced as, and Alistair released Artemesia's arm as they reached the group, greeting those he didn't know politely and making small talk with his cousins for a moment before he was to be given a very basic briefing. They didn't get that far, because Cormac himself arrived, approaching the small gathering with quick, confident steps and announcing himself in such a way that Murphy, who Alistair was speaking directly to at that exact moment, was likely the only one to see a roll of his eyes before he turned to face the newcomer.
He didn't hesitate upon seeing him, though Murphy and no doubt Eithne were certainly taking note of the incredible resemblance, but that didn't mean that he didn't recognize his own son. He'd been unable to stay away entirely, and had tried to look out for the boy when he could, even if the magic mirrors and such were more Artemesia's area. It was the way he carried himself, the tone of voice and words he'd chosen, that put Alistair on guard, mostly because, well, he recognized that. He was self-aware enough to recognize his own temper being directed at him, and glanced to Artemesia briefly before standing the slightest bit straighter, facing the boy with his head high and, more importantly, his magic humming and ready, grip solid. He was never exactly unguarded, not the Seelie King, but he could feel the fight coming already.
"Cormac, it's a pleasure. I was hoping I'd be able to have a word with you before the meeting begins and we all have to busy ourselves with the problem at hand," he offered, because taking the conversation somewhere private would be better for both of them, if he was reading the situation right, and he was typically quite good at that.
Cory was no stranger to that authoritative tone his father, apparently, was taking with him, if only because he used the same tone when addressing others at Crimson UK. The Irish guildhouse was no stranger to hot tempers and unruly personalities. It's just that Cory didn't usually feel like he'd been made a fool quite as much then as he did now.
"Yes, of course you'd rather have a word in private, how else would you keep your shameful secret from public eye. Tell me how your crown could possibly be so affected by this?" He was sarcastic, obviously, because he really didn't think it made that big of a difference at all. But Cory was a slight bit detached from the Fae world as a whole thanks to his dealings with the rest of the Supernaturals, and definitely didn't understand the politics of the Seelie and Unseelie Courts.
"Well if you come in making a scene like this, I'm sure nobody will think anything good," Eithne said, American accent harsh against the lilting voices among them. She may have been overstepping her bounds, but she had good reason to put herself between the King and Queen and one angry child, which she physically did. Unfortunately, having him by centuries was meaningless compared to the power he wielded. Cory raised his hand and made a closing motion, shutting Eithne's mouth for her before she dug herself a deeper hole.
"My quarrel isn't with you, Muse. Step back or I will step you back," he warned.
Alistair might want to act before Murphy did.
Oh, Alistair was absolutely going to have to act before Murphy did, and it was the barest narrowing of his eyes and one hand going up to halt Murphy, a brief glance to his cousin to assure him that no harm would come to Eithne while he was there, and he stepped up past his younger cousin. She'd been doing what she'd thought was right, putting herself physically between Cormac and her King, not to mention the Unseelie Queen, but this was a battle that Alistair had to fight. He was really the only one who could, considering the power that Cormac wielded. The boy couldn't hope to be able to take control from the original puppeteer, not the way he'd already shown that his power could stand up to those so much older and more disciplined than he, and Alistair had been hoping he wouldn't have to embarrass the young prince in front of everyone else. Had he been Unseelie, he'd have done it already, but this was one of those differences that he'd tried to stress to Artemesia so long ago.
"There are intricacies of the Crowns you don't understand, but I'm not terribly surprised, given your disrespect towards Eithne. She's a member of my Court, her position well-earned, not to mention her place in the Bruja Guild hierarchy in this realm. I believe you've pledged yourself to one of the lower guilds? You may consider remembering your place when interacting with members of the Diamond Guild," he pointed out. Frankly, he was less worried about the 'shameful secret' at this point, considering everyone in the room would have already put together what that could be by now. Cormac looked as though he'd taken almost completely after Alistair, right down to the blonde hair, green eyes and his ability as a Mesmer. Right then, he was more concerned with the way Cormac was embarrassing himself and Alistair with his seeming lack of understanding for rank and respect. Honestly, had Artemesia taught him nothing?
He doubted that was the case. She may have been Cormac's mother and Unseelie, but she didn't allow her people to disrespect her and Cormac had risen through the ranks in the guild he worked in, so he was simply being a brat. It was unbecoming, and while Alistair was trying to be firm, but still avoid completely putting Cormac on his ass, the fact that he was horribly unimpressed was apparent on his face and in his tone of voice.
"If you feel you have a quarrel to settle, I invite you one last time to have a word in private. If you would prefer a public forum, then I will grant it, but do not think that means I'll let you strike out at the audience you choose to keep. Release Eithne."
He wasn't playing. If Cory threw a fit or made the slightest move towards hurting or continuing to control her, he was going to be sadly surprised.