Chapter 101: Squirt & Feldan
Squirt chewed on yet another wakeberry as she trudged through the castle back towards the greenlings. Instructor Hawke and Attendant Lowvyn followed behind her, both entirely too cheerful for the early hour, when there was a small tremble in the stones of the castle.
You have a visitor, came the voice of her hound.
Feldan.
Even from here she could feel his magic, attuned to it now as she was. Her body was moving before her mind caught up, taking off at a run through the castle to the carriage storage. She ran, ignoring the tumultuous and nebulous feelings churning her gut, the way that the attendant and instructor called out after her, the exhaustion weighing on her mind—
He was here, he was here—
Another pulse of his magic, a barely there whiff of it, a light caress most fey wouldn’t even sense. He was being careful. For once, the idiot was being careful.
She reached the door, throwing it open, breathing heavily from the near sprint she’d done through the halls.
There he was. His wings were out, the power radiating from them carefully contained. They were just as beautiful as ever, the swirling of purples, pinks, and bits of blue constantly shifting and moving around each other.
He sent out another pulse of careful magic that caressed her.
Her stomach dropped.
He didn’t turn. Didn’t even seem to register her.
Despair threatened to cripple her. That pulse, meant to find her amongst a crowd, had instead revealed the secret she had been hiding for so long to the one she was most afraid of finding out.
***
Stunned, Feldan gazed around the sea of green pixies—greenling was the Common term, he reminded himself—at a total loss for words.
His goddess… wasn’t his fated?
It surely wasn’t possible that they all were, that’d be a little too much even for him. But the only other option was that he had been wrong from the beginning.
He’d known the chance was low, but he’d always hoped…
No. He’d heard his brother speak on it. Of the perfect compatibility, of the way others just couldn’t compare, the absolute knowledge of belonging—
Had he… misjudged?
A memory of her stood out in his mind, of the sound of her sharp tone as she had snapped out, “Greenlings don’t get fated—"
It suddenly hit.
She really wasn’t his fated.
The epiphany he should have had long before this moment left him stricken. Only now, here, confronted with this, did he finally realize that he would never have what he’d dreamed of for so long. He’d never have what his brother had.
His brother had been chosen for his path.
Feldan had chosen this path for himself.
Had he really made the right choice? Or had he simply been grasping at straws while striving for the dream of a dead man?
If he chose wrong…
… then he’d only have himself to blame, wouldn’t he?
The door opened behind him, more fey entering into the carriage storage. He heard the footsteps, sensed the vague shapes entering his sphere of influence as he remained dazed and staring blankly at all the green.
No. It couldn’t be.
Stuck in his denial, he sent out one more pulse only to yield the exact same result as before.
“Feldan! It’s good to see you, lad!”
Instructor Hawke’s booming voice broke him from his stupor long enough for him to turn around. Lost to his thoughts, he opened his mouth to give greetings, only to be struck dumb at the sight of her.
There she was.
His goddess.
Yet he hadn’t been able to tell she was there. Couldn’t tell her apart from any of the other greenlings in the space.
She was his goddess, right?
Or was she just…
An anxious web dug into his veins. The certainty of an hour ago was gone, and having never felt so off balance before in his life, he visibly faltered at the sight of her.
Her eyes were wide, her breathing heavy enough that she must have run here. Forest green eyes quickly flickered over the situation, reading everything in the room in an instant.
Including him.
Her expression shuttered. Whatever she’d seen had upset her deeply.
Hawke and Bartos’s attendant exchanged glances, clearly confused at why his goddess had shuttered instead of celebrated. Feldan himself swallowed, feeling achingly uncertain of the path he’d chosen for himself for the first time in his life.
It wasn’t until Hawke coughed awkwardly and conspicuously ran his fingers through his hair that Feldan remembered his appearance had not been changed.
Dropping himself to the ground, he put away his wings, passing a hand over his eyes and hair to change their color to a bright pink as he did as a disguise, as opposite of his natural deep brown locks as he was able.
Clearing his throat, he glanced back at his goddess.
Her expression was carefully blank. The quiet, cold rage of hers. The severe one.
Dark thoughts continued to whisper in his mind as he tried to understand what all this meant, leaving him unnaturally at a loss.
“I…” he trailed off.
Perhaps he’d been wrong, and her magic would be different than these others—
Subtly shifting his hand, he cast the sensor spell once more.
It touched her first. That gentle chime that called to him—
Then a hundred chimes sounded from behind him, making him turn once more, scanning his eyes over the hundred other green pixies in the space.
He’d never felt as small and vulnerable as he did in that moment. There were no instincts driving him forward. The Whims remained silent, his wild magic tame, even his gut betrayed him, twisting into new shapes that sank.
He alone had made a choice.
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And alone he stood.
***
He knew the secret.
Not even Pakos had sass for her now. She saw the flash of white from the corner of her eye as the hound appeared from the shadows, even if her eyes did not stray from the pest’s handsome, confused, stupid face.
Typical. The man was an unnatural genius in the most inconvenient of ways. A scan spell should not have been enough to know, but he must have modified it somehow. Knowing him, he probably didn’t even realize he had.
At least she didn’t have to guess when it was written all over his face.
And like Squirt had feared, she truly was no more special than any other of her people.
Pakos trotted towards her, nuzzling her shoulder and curling around her back, offering his silent support.
But he didn’t correct her.
She wasn’t special.
She never was.
That confirmation broke her out of the stalemate, and she forcibly buried her feelings, her vulnerabilities.
She’d allowed herself to think she was special even knowing it wasn’t true.
There were more important things to attend to than a broken crush.
Because that’s all he was. A crush that had been allowed to fester for too long.
Squirt cleared her throat and bowed to the prince, then straightened and said flatly, “I would speak to you privately. If you please, follow me.” She turned on her heel, exiting back out into the larger stables.
The hostlers were all awake, already mucking out stalls and feeding the beasts with tired yawns, but there was another storage room for tack that would be unoccupied this early. She didn’t need to turn to see he was following her, so she didn’t even bother.
He shut the door behind him.
She held still, facing away from him towards the rows and rows of harnesses, bridles, and saddles that lined the walls, trying to forcibly quash the heartbreak before it happened. She should have known. Her fear coming true was just how life worked.
Only once she was certain that she could speak without her voice cracking did she turn.
What a mistake. Beauty like his should never look so desperately lost. Her resolve almost cracked instantly.
No. She wasn’t falling for the gods damned puppy eyes. Not this time.
Swallowing, her voice tight, she said, “Sound barrier?”
The pulse of magic washed over them both, the walls glittering a faint purple.
She nodded to herself, shifting from foot to foot. “… I…” She faltered, indecisive. She could explain this still, couldn’t she? He said it was her actions that drew him, not…
Gritting her teeth, rage took over her features as she glared at him in challenge. “I invoke my boon to demand your silence in this.”
More hurt entered his eyes, cracking his own veneer.
The weight of the decisions, the exhaustion of the last few days, and the isolation caused by these secrets all coalesced. She wanted to explain. She did. Gods, she wanted to tell him everything. Even her goddess had said she could trust him, but this? This was more than just sharing magic with someone.
Her expression hardened. “Your silence. Vow it.”
***
Incredulous she’d waste a boon on something that simple, he couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure?”
“I said vow it.”
“But why waste your boon on this? Why is this even a secret, this, this compatibility we share—?”
"I told you compatibility was shit, it’s your own gods damned fault for thinking otherwise, now give me your gods damned vow and begone, pest."
The last syllable hung heavily between them. The way her voice had almost cracked. The rasp to it. The way her eyes had gone slightly liquid.
As he stared, stunned that she would spend her boon on such a simple thing, he noticed more details. The redness of her eyes. The bags under them. The limpness of her hair and limbs.
Feldan swallowed.
He’d come here to court her. To give himself to her, one bit at a time as she allowed, in the hope she’d keep him. And yet now, here, at the first opportunity, he’d already failed.
Why hadn’t she simply asked? Did she not trust he would gift her this?
She didn’t trust him at all, did she?
His voice hoarse with his own heartbreak, he gave her his vow. “To pay my boon, I swear to never reveal the secrets I learn from you this day forevermore until you release me, so mote it be.”
The words hung between them for long moments, a magic between them that settled under their skins. She would know if he broke his oath. He would know if he risked breaking it or if she released him. The most common type of oath there was—with a deadly consequence.
His goddess sighed, the tension draining as she took a hard seat on the ground, the weight of the world given physical evidence in the way her shoulders sagged.
Hesitating, he almost took a step forward. Offered to hold her in comfort if nothing else.
But he didn’t. His feet remained firmly planted in the ground, waiting for her invitation.
She did not give one.
Instead, she asked, “You don’t know what it means, do you?”
He shook his head, his eyes fixed on hers. There was so much emotion to her now he found he’d lost the ability to speak.
“Of course not. Typical.”
Drawing in a deep breath, her head lulled forward, dropping down to her chest. “… what did you sense?”
“… they… all felt like you.”
“Yeah. I told you. Compatibility is shit.”
“… so… I am compatible with them all? I do not understand.”
Her head snapped up, her features pinched like he was a worm on the bottom of her shoe. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”
Well, that was just not true.
His response must have shown on his face, as her features hardened into a glare. “It’s not that you are compatible with them. You aren’t part of the equation.”
He begged to differ. How could he not be?
She wiped her hands down her face before standing in a burst of fiery temper. “It’s not about you, pest. It’s not that you are compatible with them. They are compatible with everyone.”
Incredulous, he repeated, “Everyone?”
“Everyone. All greenlings are universally compatible, dumbass.”
Silence festered, tightening, coiling around them both until it felt ready to snap.
The words slipped out of his mouth unbidden, “I don’t understand—”
“I said we’re universally compatible, meaning it doesn’t matter what greenling, we’re all the fucking same. None of us are special chosen fey for you.” Her voice dropped in volume to a tight whisper. “None of us.”
She hadn’t even given him the chance to lie.
He did understand. He just didn’t want it to be true. He didn’t want to lose what he’d thought was a certainty between them. He’d come to be by her side, to guarantee her freedom even from himself if necessary, to stay behind when she left, join when she asked, and be ready to greet her when she returned. To defend her as necessary and ensure that she was never trapped again. To love her from her side even if she never looked on him in the same way, because that was the fate written into the stars by the gods. Because he belonged to her.
Didn’t he?
Or had he become the trap?
Once more, the tension ebbed from her limbs, her eyes more tired than accusatory.
“… I’m the only one who knows. It’s… complicated.”
He stared at her before repeating numbly, “The only one?”
She nodded glumly. “The rest of them, they don’t know. We’re told… we’re told a bullshit story instead, that occasionally other fey resonate with us when we feel no different with them than any other. If that happens, they become our fey. We swear ourselves to them, forever and always.” Her tone had anger, hurt, and exhaustion in it.
Did he even deserve her? “Why is this a secret?”
If it wasn’t a secret, perhaps he could have… would have…
What?
A deadened look of despair entered his goddess’s eyes next, and Feldan’s chest physically ached in response as he realized that once again, wrapped up in his own selfish wants as usual, he’d forgotten to consider her side. “Because we can be made to accept someone else’s magic, even if we don’t want to, used like funnels to do enchantments that others could only dream of.” She almost said something else but then dropped her eyes away.
Her reticence at sharing his magic in the spring. Her familiarity with the act.
The monster who took her flight.
Gods. Had he been one of those to her?
Had he… hurt her?
Standing there in the tack room that smelled of leather, sawdust, and manure, there were no words that came to mind. No quips, no songs, no poems to ease her suffering. To explain his jumbled, incoherent thoughts. He knew he needed to say something, that she needed to hear it, but paralyzed by unfamiliar anxiety, he could only watch helplessly as she emotionally withdrew.
She was just as beautiful and fierce as he remembered.
The Hunt’s Athereon.
He wasn’t special at all, was he? He’d not been chosen to protect her, there was no destiny intertwining their futures, just the vague notion that he loved her.
He did love her, didn’t he?
Was this love? This murky, uncomfortable sensation in his chest? Or had he simply forced her to accept something not even the fates had dictated?
Words tumbled out of his mouth in an astonished whisper as he connected the pieces. “Greenlings don’t get fated mates.”
“Of course not,” she said, her voice cutting and cold. “We’re not powerful enough for gods to bother.”
Awkward silence fell between them as he struggled with his insecurities.
She broke the silence by saying bitterly, “I told you I was nothing special. Sorry to have wasted your precious time, your highness.”
Panic had his hand snapping out to grab her elbow as she moved to brush past him back to the stables. Her furious forest-green eyes flashed as she stared him down, and he hesitated, unsure of what he wanted to say.
He landed on, “You are to me.”
The smile she leveled him was cutting and cruel. “Am I? Or was I just the one that was available?” She gestured towards the storage room beyond. “Go on. Take your pick. There are a hundred of them here now. Without instincts and magic to guide you,” she forcibly pulled her arm from his weak hold, biting out, “I wonder how much more convenient any of them would be.”
He wanted to argue, to tell her she was never just a convenience to him.
He hesitated, uncertain of the truth of it.
Visible walls slammed shut between them, her emotions buried behind layers of defenses he had thought he’d broken through. Before he could open his mouth to beg her forgiveness, she walked out the door, leaving him alone with his demons.
***
Outside of the room, she paused, her own heartbreak threatening the very walls she’d slammed down around herself. More than anything, she wanted to run. Escape back to the forest where she could be alone. Free. Where she could breathe and just be.
Straightening her shoulders, she shoved the feelings down with a snarl. That was better. Anger she could work with. Anger would keep her moving.
She was never special, and by the gods, she’d fucking prove it.