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Chapter Text

We open on the night of a little girl's 10th birthday, the afterparty to be clearer, and under the light of waning moon and oil lamps the garden terrace was packed; dukes, lords, and ladies all making conversation, and smack dab in the middle is the birthday girl, Vanessa Wyn, doing her best not to fall face first into the puddles of fabric shrouding the masonry. This exceedingly simple wish is dead on arrival via her ten-year-old height, the swelling tide of ego repeatedly pulling her head under, suffocating in one of the most literal ways. One pearl away from just letting herself drown, something catches her attention; a tiny white flicker.

Now, this excited her for two reasons; 1) A viable excuse to remove herself. And 2) The familiarity.

She's seen enough plates and dainty chains wrought of silver to know what it looks like, and she knows what it means for her currently; another child her age. Most likely, at least. See, when royals are officiated, they have their crowns either replaced with or plated in gold as a symbol of status, so while it might not entirely indicate age, it's a starting point.

With a quick pardon, she ducks and weaves, eyes locked and ignoring faces; her handmaid taught her that to get somewhere fast, look purposeful, then the crowds part easier. She makes a note to thank the woman later. Arriving at her destination, she stills. Stood by the Lord and Lady of Silstella, is a prince rocking on his heels, boots barely leaving a dent the turf as if he were lighter than feathers, eyes like bottled sun turned toward the sky and up at the stars, and despite her manners, she stares. In her time stood staring, she can't help but think he's... for lack of a better word, pretty; like the amber embedded in her goblet and the bright ruby reds of a scarlet. He has to be some sort of fae, must be, it'd make no sense for a human to look as he does, move as he does, or just simply be as he is. Just looking at him made her feel like she's home.

Suddenly, he tears his eyes away from the sky. She tenses and pulls her own head a bit too far the other way, ow, expecting him to catch her, only to look back and find him to staring stock-still at a topiary fowl a ways behind him. He walks towards the shrubbery with a smile, barely leaving a trace of his footsteps behind as he goes, and on a wild whim, she follows close behind, more curious than she's been since infancy. He's exciting! She watches, temporarily unaware of his plans, as he crouches in front of the greenery.

For a moment she simply freezes, as does her brain, not expecting this boy to drop to the damp soil and wriggle his way under the branches like a red mole. She's finally pulled from her shock when he exclaims something under his breath, followed by a string of giddy chuckles as he squirms his way back out, hands both firmly grasped around something, and bright attire smeared with obvious streaks of rich earth. Had she not just witnessed it herself, she would have assumed his appearance was a mistake, a vicious attack by cursed garden tools even, not a result deliberate choices.

She hadn't noticed she entered her 'Prim State' until she had already pulled him up by the collar, removed her gloves, and dusted him off, taking great subconscious care to keep the mess away from her own clothes, all while the subject of the fussing stood there mildly shocked, ear dusted red in embarrassment as she commented on his behaviour. "Are you a prince or a soil sprite?"

Once satisfied with the decent de-dirting, she stops, brushing her own hands off, and propping them on her hips, doing one last circle around him to be sure. Then she stops. She doesn't know him; she doesn't even know him and she just grabbed by the scruff and dusted him off like a petulant kitten. Oh No.

She rushes, nearly falling for the 5th time that night, to stand in front of him, hands folded, head bowed, "I am SO sorry! I didn't mean to demean you, o-or insult you! Please forgive my-" A snort breaks the tension. A gentle tap to the back of her head makes her look up at him, and to her pleasant surprise he's smiling, quickly holding out a hand, "I'm Luka, you?" She slowly straightens back up, gently placing her hand in his with a light shake, "Vanessa Wyn, it's- " She loses her words for a moment, "I-It's nice to meet you!"

He practically glows, rubbing his other hand on his neck before pausing to run it through his hair, quickly looking back at her with a bashful tilt, "Ah, can you help a little more?" gesturing to his hair. She nearly reverts back to scold him but pushes it down, gently retaking his hand, it's warm. She tugs them both over to a stone bench nearby and instructs him to sit down in front of it, the ground thankfully solid and dry as the main terrace, as she sits on the bench, giving herself the right angle to fix the tousled state of his hair.

Her gloves still removed, she runs her fingers through the locks, picking out any stray wood debris or leaves in short bursts and brushing out the rest with longer motions, and as she works she can't help but notice how soft it is on her fingertips, a warm silky feeling that reminds her of her favourite blankets or the roses in the hallway vases. He leans back into the volume of her skirt as she sets into the motions and before she knows it, it's done, every hair back how it was before his escapade.

Her face flushes in embarrassment as she gives a light tap to his shoulder, voice thinly wrapped in a clear, royal cadence so it wouldn't stutter, "I'm done. Does it feel right?" He opens his eyes, lifting his head and gives it a small shake, then pauses. Had she done it right? Was the shake for 'no'? He turns his head back to her, eyes turned up and smiling, "Thank you!" She gives a small nod in return, silent as he stands back up. He turns his full body to her, quick enough he's a bit dizzy, and holds out his clasped hands to her, clutched around something.

There's a spark in his gold eyes, less innocent than they look, and he opens his hands a fraction, "Look!" She leans in and he brings his hands closer. She's just about to question what she's looking for when a small, scaly snout pops out from the shade of his hands. She nearly shrieks. He opens his hands fully and nestled in his small palms is an even smaller snake, he brings his cupped hands back towards him, "She's a garter snake! They live in darker places like under shrubs and rocks, she's probably thirsty too."

He stares down at the thing like it's gold and she thinks she's finally lost it as the beast rubs its face against his palm. He really is fae, maybe she shouldn't have given him her name. "Do you want to hold her?" She thinks for a moment and once again swears she's going mad as she nods absently, hands not feeling like hers as they cup together in front of her to hold the creature. He gently lets the serpent slide from his own hands into hers, and for a moment, she's fascinated, the scales are smooth and she can feel the movement of its body clearly, then the moment is over as it slithers out of her hands like it's being chased.

"Did- Did I do something wrong?" She sounds more distressed than she thought she'd be. "I don't think so, don't worry!" The snake is in his hands again so fast her heart aches a little, "She's probably just-" his hands brushes hers and he shivers, "Oh!" his eyes perk up as he transfers the slithery critter into one hand, reaching out for hers with his free one, "Gimme your hand!" She hesitantly places her hand in his as he closes his around it, shifting around every few seconds, when he lets go he hands the serpent back, and this time it stays put. She's bewildered.

He starts up, "Snakes are cold-blooded, they can't warm up on their own like us, so when they get too cold they get stiff and tired. She wasn't scared, your hands were just cold and she was trying to stay warm!" He finishes with with a resting smile, her eyes lit up like stars as the reptile sits contently in her hands, thin tongue flicking her fingertips.

The gentle silence is broken by a loud call, "Luka!" She freezes, quickly putting the creature back into her accomplice's hands as she tugs her gloves back on, fabric hugging her skin less comfortable than before. She fixes her posture as a broad man walks up to the pair, she recognises him; Luka's father, Lord of Silstella. Her mind races to come up with excuses, lies, anything to keep her company from being punished. "There's my boy!"

Then those thoughts are derailed as a large hand tenderly ruffles the head of hair beside her, a warm chuckle rumbling through the space in front of her, and she finally looks up. Forest green eyes set into a strong face with a soft look to them, cropped cinnamon hair bearing a golden crown, he kneels and at this new height, he doesn't feel as powerful. "And who might your new friends be?" His voice reminds her of distant thunder, deep bass, but not loud enough to scare creatures or rattle windows.

She bows her head for a moment before pulling it back up, red meeting green as she makes eye contact as she was taught, "I'm Vanessa Wyn, it's a pleasure to meet you." His passive smile breaks into a grin, "Ah, the birthday girl herself, I was wondering where you were!" The comment is without malice or bite, it's polite in the genuine way, "How have you been?" She brings herself to respond, "I've- It's good, I'm having- fun. With Luka." The smile lines on his face sink in as she smiles wide again, "Great to hear! Speaking of Luka," He turns to his son, the boy bouncing on his heels as he holds the snake, "What've you got this time?"

The boy launches into a ramble centred around the life in is hands, and she spaces out as a woman walks up behind the man, lithe and just as tall her husband, Lady to the Lord and Luka's mother, "Another garter? What kind?" Her voice slips out of her as her hand rests on her husband's shoulder, bowing slightly to meet the eyes of her son. If her husband was the thunder, she was the patter of rain and the wind, moon milk hair flowing in wavy swaths down her back and over her wide shoulders, tufts framing her sturdy jawline and the sunlight eyes she shares with her son.

She's brought back to reality when Luka lightly tugs on her sleeve. "Do you want to come sit with us for supper?" Before she could think she was nodding, mouth pulled into a smile as she jogs along with him to the table, sitting beside him, both between the reassuring height of his parents as they talk. Vanessa explains her cold hands, frosting over one of her asparagus, and with a trick that ends in one of his dinner rolls being charred, he demonstrates his own abilities.

As the night ends and Vanessa giggles along to Lukas stories, her mother approaches quietly. Unlike the Lady Luka calls mom, her own mother is shorter, frigid, she makes ice blue somehow feel colder, the girls stomach twists slightly at her presence, "Lord and Lady Santhamum, it's a delight to see you, it appears my daughter has made a new acquaintance is that right?" The pillars of warmth do not falter at her saccharine tone, "Of course, our boy's happy to have someone his age to play with again!" The rumbling voice soothes the girls tensing shoulders.

"Ah, then would you be apposed to setting something small up for the future, a playdate perhaps?" Her world stops, her mother has never suggested that before, she's always had to ask, she's never even had someone as excited as Luka is to hear it either, bouncing in place with stars in his eyes. "If Luka would like-" the boys cuts his mother off with an enthusiastic, "Yes please!", sheepishly shrinking the slightest back into himself at the cold glare pointed at him afterwards, "Wonderful, Vanessa?"

She knows that tone, the underlying message delivered clear as day for her, 'Say yes or else', but for once she isn't as scared, she replies just as enthusiastically, if only a bit subdued "I would love to!" The two children meet eyes as they beam, visions of games and all else inside their heads. They'd look at each other like this for years, like the other had taken a chunk of the night sky and presented it wrapped in silk, and they grow up. Playdates and teatimes bleed into quiet afternoons together and shared secrets locked behind doors. Thunder and rain paired with cold and ice, a gentle snowfall calumniates them in this time, grey clouds with silver linings.

Chapter Text

Late in the evening a couple limps into the manor, both run ragged from the days duties, a long list of responsibilities; Local meeting, wedding blessing, opening ceremony, among others piled on their plates. As he collapsed onto the pouf by his beloveds bed, Lukas cheeks ached and he let the political mask crumble, smile falling slack, his love melting into a heap on her bed, by his side. She slips off her shoes gingerly to avoid irritating her raw heels and happily she flops back onto her bedspread with a sigh. They bask in the moment, letting the cooler air inside bring their heartbeats back down and ease the aches.

A breathy giggle comes from the prince, "It's good to be back!" He smiles, then winces, "Ow." Vanessa laughs with him, "I have to agree." She sits up, tucking her feet into her favourite slippers, and goes to stand only to be stopped by a warm hand in hers. "Stay put dear, you must be exhausted, whatever you needed I'll fetch, no trouble." She smiles back at him and lays back down, "Tea please, mint if you can." With a nod, he's off and down to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting the tray, just the way she likes, he knows the her favourite arrangement, set, and treats by heart.

As he waits, he admires the timid moonlit kitchen and the silent world framed in it's window, the pounding behind his eyes soothed by speckled blue sky and silver moon, the whole world to the horizon and back washed in moonlight, and as he watches, it begins to rain. The rain patters against the glass, the roof, the masonry outside, and he can almost feel it, the warm spring rain falling on his face as he leans back into his chair, eyes drifted shut. Behind them, his head floods with memories of treetops high as the manor roof, the sounds of puddles coalescing at his feet, the feeling of mud in his hands. He can smell the petrichor.

All at once the moment is over with a bang that stabs his migrane; a door slammed, then footsteps, soles clicking relentlessly against the floor as she comes into his sight, then she passes him. The Queen. She's going to her bedroom, do something. "Your highness, would-" "Quiet." With a single word he's shut up, frozen watching her ascend the stairs. He turns away when she reaches the top, a cold weight sinking into his stomach as the kettle finally wails, thunder clapping, shaking the glass window, blending with another that makes his stomach twist. An omen.

---

The tray is set, china laid out perfectly, under threat of being toppled by the tremors down his arms. It doesn't strike him he's left his body on its own until the Queen brushes past him in the hall, the door to the bedroom left ajar, silent. His breath hangs heavy in white plumes as he comes closer to it. When he opens the door he shudders; Its frigid.

In a shivering heap at the foot of her bed is his beloved, a ring of heavy frost bleeding across the wooden bed frame and rug, the air biting at his throat. He sets the tray down, closing the heavy doors behind him, and approaches. Without words he kneels and wraps her in himself, the cold seeping through his skin as she collapses into his chest, heaving and choking as she sobs, making no effort to speak through it as he cards his stiffening fingers trough her hair, gentle not to tug on the knots worn into it. She pulls back for only a moment, and he is unsurprised, feeling like he might throw up, seeing the darkening red slowly stain her left cheek as blood rises under the skin, inflamed.

He holds her closer, cradling her wilted form despite the frost permeating his blouse. He picks her up, setting her onto her bed and tucking her under the comforter as he separates, only for a moment, before coming back with the tray, setting it in her lap. He places a warm cup in her hands as he brushes his own against the bed frame, spreading his influence subtly, frost evaporating as she timidly sips, and gone entirely when he sits beside her, handing her a shortbread. She takes her time, sinking into the warming bed and filling her stomach with tea and cookies.

He picks up her brush and moves to rest behind her, gently brushing from the tips to the roots in small motions, avoiding tugging at her scalp, she's tender headed. Not that her mother cares. He begins to hum as he works, his love snacking and sipping, shoulders slack. Words come in melody from him;

"Simple as the tide... Sacred as the sea... Silent as the moon... All you are to me..."

"Loving is a dream... Sleeping by your side... Walking hand in hand... Love forever mine..."

"Living as we are... Simple as we be... I belong you love, and love, you belong to me..."

She turns her head back to him, face flushed a nicer pink as she smiles, "You sap." He smiles back and she hands him his own cup and cookie, "Don't forget yourself, Lu." He takes it gratefully, tired, thirsty, and famished. He's faster than she was, more than he thought, then he realises the look on her face, the warm glow gone. "Really Lu." He flinches, setting his cup and plate both down, not planning on picking either back up, "Sorry Ness I... I wasn't thinking." Heavy quiet blankets the room, despite the warmth still left, he nearly shivers again, getting back to work brushing her hair.

He should have stopped it, stopped her, just tried harder. His love's hurt and he could have done something, but he was scared. In his weak defence, everyone was scared of the Queen, even her subjects, even her daughter, especially her daughter. He didn't understand why before, not until he moved, lived with her presence looming him like they all did, like Vanessa did.

She's scared of what she can't control, she scared of disorder, she's scared of what that will make her mother do to her and that fear makes her defensive, cold. She doesn't mean it. He loves her, she loves him, and he won't leave her just because over something so ignorant, it's his fault anyhow; he always fails remembering what to do, he stumbles, he makes her worse, and then they both end up hurt.

The silence in the room is drawn thin, and she breaks it, "Why would you do that..?" Here it comes, here it goes, "I'm sorry, I... I was just hungry." She pauses... then raises her voice a bit more, "And I wasn't?Luka you need to think, you're not stupid." She feels him nod and she fades, splits, everything seeming a thousand miles away, her hands not hers. Time means nothing, but eventually she's weakly pulled back to her body by a tapping on her head. She sighs, reaching up to remove his fidgeting hand but she feels something warm and wet in her hair instead, the world is sharp again and she turns.

She's met with glassy eyes spilling wet trails down his face.

He did it again; he's crying. She'll get tired of him one day, he's sure of it, find a man who doesn't cry when a firm statement comes his way, someone stronger. Despite how he fights it, he's no less of an annoyance than he was as a child.

She did it again, she was acting like her mother. Something cold in her scowls at the display, calling him selfish, childish, stupid. But he isn't. 'He is.' The voice of her mother gives her a headache; She tells it to shut up.

Her hands reach up and cradle his face, rubbing away his tears.

The feeling of satin gloves against his skin wakes him up, making him realise he's been staring off for a long time now, blinking to soothe his sore eyes. He hiccups, dragging his eyes to look into hers, "I'm- I'm sorry, I'm being irrational." She brings his head into her chest like he did for her, petting his hair, "Don't be love, I- ... I'm sorry Lu, I was just... scared." He slowly guides himself to lay down, taking her with him, eyelids heavy. He mumbles into her chest, "...'m tired."

She slides out of his arms for a moment, dimming the lights, and slips back into them in her nightgown, pressing herself into his chest under the thick comforter, relishing in his warmth, "Goodnight Lu, sleep sweet" He hums, wrapping an arm around her, "Goodnight..."

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"What are you doing..?" The voice echoes in the dark. "What are you doing in my home..?" It was cold, droning... She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see anything beyond the spotlight before her. She was frozen, bitter, cold air tearing at her eyes.

Silence...

Silence...

Silence...

A blaring makes her ears ring as a ragged shadow lunges at her, blaring red, voice screaming. The boiling mess of shadows grabs her by her throat, screaming in her face, the ringing gets worse."DO NOT THINK YOU CAN LEAVE NOW! THIS IS M Y MANNOR! M Y HOME!" Her own voice shrieks at her, sounding wrong in ways she can't describe with words. She struggles, the Queen tightens her grip; she feels her neck creak. She begs, pleads, but it does nothing. There's a loud snap, and darkness followed.

.

.

.

"Luka? Luuuuka... Where are you love?" Her voice echos on the empty, grey walls, calling for him. It's cramped, he can't breathe well, but he heard her, and he calls back. "I'm here Ness! I'm right here!" Her silhouette appears on the far wall, a shadow carved from the light cast through it. "Love, I'm here, Please!" The figure freezes. Then begins to spread. His voice shrinks, "Vanessa..?" He backs up as far as he can, the dark spreading like mould, engulfing every inch of light. Eventually, it reaches him, painful prickling up his legs followed by numbness, it hurts, and it consumes him. His eyes open and he hears the crackling of fire below him, light flickering into void. The flames rise and lap at his skin, but it doesn't hurt. It's just...warm.

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He wakes up, flames still dancing in his head as he pulls himself up with the headboard, sitting, accidentally jostling his partner awake as well. Then he smells smoke, looking around when the sight of embers under his hand startles him, he pulls his hand back but the damage is done, scorch mark nestled comfortably into the wooden frame. He sighs, then sees his visible breath he turns to his side, seeing as his love gets up and buries her face in her own hands after seeing her damage done; large ice crystals climbing the posts of her bed.

When it resists his own element with an unhappy hiss and bubble, he calls in a couple guard men to help him pry the structures off the bed frame. They left soon after without a word and he shut the door behind them, walking back over to Vanessa, giving her a hug, ignoring how it made his skin sting. "...Thank you for...everything..." is all she manages to say for the moment. When they're both ready, they sit on the bed as the morning sun pours in through the windows. It's silent.

The silence falls when the blonde speaks ,"I'm so sorry Lu. I just- I was hurt and I... wasn't thinking properly..." Her voice just barely above a whisper as he holds onto her hand, "I know you are. But...thank you for telling me, I appreciate it, but I should have bee more considerate, especially after... it was.. .insensitive of me." She nods, squeezing his hand.

They hold each others hands in silence for a few moments, then an idea pops into his head and he smiles. "Ness?" She lifts her gaze to meet his and his eyes light up; He stands. "I have an idea." She raises an eyebrow with and he giggles, leaning over to pull a few flowers from the vase on their bedside table, working them in his hands, weaving stems into stems until two bands slowly form. When he's done he shows them to her; Two bracelets, woven of Lavender, chamomile, violet geraniums, and Snowdrops. (There had also been Lily of they Valley, but he knows the danger that comes with those)

"It's a tradition from my home, couples create bands to symbolise their devotion and make vows on, like a promise ring symbolises here!" Slipping one on his own wrist and the other on hers, he kneels in front of her and makes a vow, "I swear to you, my Princess, that as long as I live, I'll do whatever I can to ensure that you're happy."

Her eyes blow wide and tear up, smiling tugging her lips up, and like that his world is bright again. She pulls his head into her lap and peppers him with kisses, her voice like a taste of sunlight, "Thank you! Thank you so much!" She pulls back, cradling his face in her palms. "And I swear the very same!" And they share one last kiss, her golden hair hanging above his head like bars of sunlight, his heart in her hands.

Chapter Text

He was out wandering the market but didn't quite get the peaceful outing he'd hoped for. He insisted he'd be just fine alone, but then again he knew how Vanessa felt uncomfortable with the idea of being in the mansion alone, so he had her join him, even if she'd brought a couple guardsmen with her. At the time, he was picking out some strawberries, but his mind was wandering.

This new life in Subcon was...well- for lack of kinder words: stuffy. He was caged in the manor for most days, Vanessa not wanting him to be hurt or her not wanting to be alone. It was getting suffocating, even as a young prince he wasn't the well-groomed royal that others thought, he was a wild child, happier in moss carpeted clearings than in stone-patterned towns.

How long would it be before he could finally hike the forest trail again? Was he stuck like this? What if- "Your Highness." A gruff voice to his left made him jump, nearly dropping his basket, "Apologies your Highness, but we'll need to return to the manor, the Queen will arrive soon."

He'd felt how his sweetpea flinched. After an especially messy breakdown last moon, he'd been growing a better connection to Nessa, the roots growing stronger, digging deeper. He'd also been helping her cope, to stablize. Sometimes, it was frightening. He held his ground, doing his best not to make a scene.

Who she was when she was hurt, and who she was when she was happy were two very different people. It was that simple. Chilled cuddles on a warm summers night was worth the yelling and bitter bite of cold that came with fear.

The moment they started walking back he knew something awful was going to happen. The moment they arrived, he rushed to help the cooks with meal prep, moving as fast as he could. Hysterical yelling mixed and familar sobs echoed through the empty hall. Every hair on the back of his neck stood on end, he could feel it, almost see it. Vanessa was cowering.

He froze and his hands began to shake, cradling a chipped teapot, his brain buzzing to find some way to help. He needed time, he needed to protect her! The china in his hands began to slip, the small movement catching his attention. He stared at the near priceless work and...did nothing. It dropped.

The sudden sound of shattering turned heads, all eyes landing on an intensely shaking prince...and shards of delicate white and blue ceramic...

The buzz in the air stood still as the faint clicking of heels grew clearer. The door was thrown open, the back-lit silhouette of a Queen standing in its place. Her rabid gaze fell on the sharp, twinkling shards littering the ground, and she opened her deceivingly delicate maw.

The inhuman screech that made the glasses ring struggled to strain itself into words, and when it it finally choked it's way out of her throat, the venom poured from her cherry lips was not much sweeter."How dare you...HOW DARE YOU, YOU INSOLENT LITTLE PRICK!" He begged himself to pry open his mouth, to screech back... just once. But before anyone could flich, he was struck across the face, knocking him down onto the hundreds of sharp blue-teeth waiting for him.

The moment his body landed, everything became a dull rattle in the back of his head. The little, stinging incisions were numb and her voice was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He was sure she was still screaming, guessing by the way her face twisted and contorted, her frosted blue eyes digging under his skin, looking to tear his throat to shreds.

She froze, sudden and unprompted, then cleared her throat. She brushed off, straightened out, and left, not sparing anyone a passing glance as she made her way upstairs.

As soon as the hollow click of a closing door reverberated through the halls, the tapping of light, frantic footfalls followed, getting closer until a tattered princess stood in the empty doorway, eyes locked on the mess sprawled across the kitchen floor.

She gingerly walked to him, eyes growing wider with each step, worried and shaken. But as she knelt, her features twisted into a snarl, she was angry...angry at him. "What in the name of SUBCON were you thinking?! Breaking a teapot- MOTHERS FAVORITE TEAPOT, and all while she's angry too?! That was so... so STUPID!" She was upset, she was right, it was stupid.

He knows better. She's right, it's fine, she won't hurt him...but that doesn't mean his body would care to listen, because something in his throat strained and with a sound that whined like an old door, the dam broke, tears spilling down the sides of his face, the bitter salt water pooling around his cheeks. It stung...but he was quiet. H-hurts- hush...

Leave it, she'll stop soon. Nessa- hush... Plea- She can't care right now, just be quiet. I'm- Not now- Please- it's fine, it's fine, I'm just fine- "You useless halfbeing!" She spat, sprinting out, up the stairs, and into their bedroom, slamming the door shut with a crack that rumbled like thunder through the polished halls.

The doors were quickly shut, people ushing to help him onto his feet, ignoring the how the air had gone dry as they brushed him off, gingerly picking pieces of sun-bleached ceramic from his skin. His eyes were misty and wet, but even as they swabbed disinfectant over his wounds, he was silent.

Once he was patched up, he was set down with a drink as the staff swept and dusted and the guards checked that the manor was locked up. They all paused and turned back when a thin whisper brushed through the kitchen. "...I'm sorry everyone..." He murmured to no one in specific, eyes still glassy, taking a sip of warm milk from his mug.

They shared a knowing glance but promptly turned back to their work. After everything was tidied up, he was served dinner and dessert at the dinner...no one else was even there...it was too quiet (He barely touched his food). When dinner was over and everything was put away, they walked him up to their bedroom with his mug and a fresh roll of bandages. Vanessa was dead asleep, luckily. He sat down on the bed, and downed the rest of his milk.

He knew he would have to drink it all, so he did, he just nearly threw up in the process. Once the mug was empty, he sat there for a while, just staring before setting it down on the nightstand and heading to their bathroom.

He filled the tub with cold water, a dash of cinnamon was added. Even as he strirred the bath his instics begged him to pull away, to hide, to stay away, to stay warm... "No." Without a second word, he disrobed and climbed in, sinking into the water.

The cold water felt almost pleasant in his cuts, numbing them, and his body began to slow down... No ...hush, we're fine. We need to run- Shut it. We need to leave, we can't be here- He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, tugging down, grounding himself. It's fine, this is fine, this is natural, we just need to get used to it...nothing more... we can't be stuck, we can't, she'll- they'll get us- Hush it- we- Shut. up.

All he ever wanted was to help her

All he wanted was to play like them

---

He walked up to her, she was panicking. They were playing, sure, there had been more bossing and hitting, but they were his siblings. She'd gotten to her, it was bad. The emerald green dress she'd worn was crumpled and stained so bad it had changed colour. They were bigger, he was littler, they knew better. Her eyes darted around the room, hyperaware of every little noise she heard. They had his toy Scaly, he wanted her back , they said if he could swim across the fountain, he could have her back. The air was cold and his reflexes were slowed, but he approached regardless...that was a big mistake...It took a whole day to thaw him out. They laughed as he flailed, but when the water went still they panicked for yelled for mama... The night before had been freezing.

---

The water boiled as he hunched over, broken sobs filling the room. He didn't want to remember, he wanted that to stay buried, it was an accident, they didn't mean it, it was his fault, it's okay, it's fine...Stop crying, it's ridiculous to cry at something that happened so long ago...

After sitting in the tub for what seemed like hours, he got out, drained the tub, and dried off. Before he left the room, he looked into the mirror, stared himself straight in the eyes...and smiled as wide as could. He brushed his hair and slipped into a nightshirt, crawling into bed.

---

Golden sunlight poured from the window, warming his face as his eyes drifted open. He sat up as the the smell of bacon swept through the room, his hair settling around his face as he looked for the source. His eyes eventually settled onto a plate of slightly singed bacon sitting on the nightstand, on the plate, was a note written in mint green shimmer ink.

"morning papa! Hari and me made you brakfast!"

A soft smile found it's way onto his face as he read it. Nerrie was always looking for something to do, whether it be drawing by the fireplace or playing out in the courtyard. He tumbled out of bed, pulled on his favorite sweater, and after cleaning himself up he walked into the livingroom, snacking on his breakfast.

Realizing no one was in the house, he waltzed out the door and quickly got tackled by his older daughter, Nerrisa. "Papa! Papa!" She tugged on his pant leg as she bounced in place, "Can we pleeeaaase go now? It's super hot and I really, REALLY wanna teach Hari to float!" He nodded, his mouth still full. After placing his dish in the sink, he was in the carriage heading to the shoreline.

It was a hot summer day and the sky was crystal clear so it was the perfect day for a swim. In all honesty he felt more than guilty about sleeping in so late, he voiced this but his wife, placing a chilled finger to his lips, cut him off before he could finish, "It's just fine Lu, you've been working yourself to the bone and deserved to sleep in, right girls?" She said, turning to their daughters.

Nerrie nodded, "You were really sleepy papa! That's okay! Hari knows too!" Hariette nodded, giggling. He smiled, grateful to have such a sweet family. They relaxed on the sand as the waves rolled in at a steady pace, nearly singing to them. While his family played in the water, he sat off to the sidelines, making sure they were all set before laying down in the shade of a heavy parasol.

He was fine with this, he didn't like swimming much nor can he do it too often. Water tends to have a negative effect on him, cold water even more so, his body slows down and will start to ache if exposed to cold water too long. It's not too bad in warm water, but...he'd just prefer to stay at full functionality. He was still pretty tired though. As you can imagine, three all-nighters in a row isn't forgiving...maybe...maybe he can just take a nap...just one...

He didn't remember how long he'd been asleep, all he remembered was the echoing screech that woke him. He struggled to sit up, his body creaking as the cold snapping at his joints, giving his heart a nervous start. He scanned the horizon and...the lake was gone...in its place was a large field of snow, dunes and mounds shaping the surface.

As far as he could see, it was a bright, thick blanket of snow. He looked all around him, hoping to see another living being, or even a single breath of life, and was unsettled further by the absence of either. He got up and searched, he looked for... how long...? He called out, praying for a response...nothing. Frustrated and afraid, he kicked one of the misshapen drifts of snow, only to do a double take as he realized his foot had hit something solid, and a good chunk of said solid thing landed quite a ways ahead of him.

Opting to take a closer look, he walked over to inspect it...his eyes quickly locked onto the chunk of ice before him. Five sturdy fingers, all branching from a strong, sure palm. It had been flung quite a distance, chipping it, cracking it, leaving the dark crimson of near-frozen blood to drip from the edges, staining the snow around it a deep pink, sprinting back to the pile it had come from, he started brushing the snow away.

There was a vacant wrist, an arm...face. It was a person-person- a hefty man, the full beard frozen stiff and- ...a distant murmuring echoed in his skull, clawing desperately at his fleeting sanity, crying out for him..."His eyes were blue." "His hair, isn't that familiar?" "He had the jolliest laughter..."

His gaze drifted to the right, snapping into place, another pile... he had no say in what his body did next..."What lovely hair." "Do you remember her voice at all? Has it been too long?" "Her eyes were golden yellow right? You aren't forgetting her already...are you?"

The world fell silent for a moment...then everything fell apart; his breaths were labored and sharp, his throat was closing. His shoulders shook, the snow beneath him was quietly dotted with tears. Why did they have to leave this image for him to see..? It was a reminder- a painful, bitter reminder- there was nothing he could have done- he couldn't fix it, they're...

He collapsed, curled against the freezing wind, his sobs morphed into wails that howled back at him as echoes of pain, remorse, regret. Embers sparked and flickered as the vibrant light of hellfire stained the snow an illfitting, peaceful baby blue. His body consumed by thrashing flames, lashing out, churning, scolding, melting...

The roaring of the violent blaze brought a strange sort of comfort, the azure flames lapping at his skin with warmth and care. But the ground beneath him had become... brittle... delicate... thin. A subtle whine and snap was the only warning he was gifted before the flames went out and he was plunged into a cold, heavy, darkness.

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he was freezing...he was dying. He couldn't do anything, he couldn't stop it.

His skin burned, the tips of his fingers stained purple as his body began to fail him, the cold took its bitter time tearing into his flesh. All light was gone, he was alone.

It was torture, being torn to shreds slowly, near loving, as he was dragged further and further from the surface and closer in it's crushing embrace...

He blinked. once. twice...

breathe...

He's alive. He sat up, running his hands through his hair. His neck was stiff...the room painfully quiet...he wanted-...he needed a walk...a good, long walk...

He slipped out of bed, quiet as not to wake his sweetpea, and walked over to the closet. With a tug he pulled out a long, black cloak and fastened it over his nightshirt.

He slunk out of the room and wandered the halls for a while, silently taking in how the gentle silver light was warped by noisy raindrops and colored glass panes. The lingering smell of a long-past dinner made his stomache ache, and so he may or may not have rummaged through the kitchen cabinets for a left over sweet roll or two. Nibbling on his prize, he made a beeline for the garden door.

The stone path was slick with rain, so he took extra precaution, slipping into a pair of well-loved boots. He walked along the pathway until he came to the gate, handing a spare roll to the guard. They took it greatfuly and let him through, their swear to secrecy still honored.

He gave them a nod and quickly trotted off into town square, smack dab in the center of the humble village was a beautiful fountain. The time and love put into it was clearly visible, each little detail, from the fibers of a feather to the vains on a leaf were all hand sculpted with care and precision.

He flipped onto autopilot and let his mind wander for a bit, he tried to remember what he'd a had for dinner, but the memeory was hazy, only stray bits and pieces filtering through it. After a while the unwanted train of thought derailed and promptly careened into a ditch, leaving him to space out.

By the time the world came back into focus, he was nearly done. The fountain was cleared and scrubbed, leaving him with just one more thing to do. He grabbed a tattered rag and polished a plaque set right into the fountains basin.

"Take it, give it, share it to all. Spread it, grow it, hear the call. Hear them sing, join if you wish. With the heron, the river, the water, and the fish."

It was a excerpt of a song, "A Trickle of Hope", it came from his home, a legend, a folktale. A story of hope and remembrance, wishes, ambitions. A long ways back, his mother would come just before bedtime and sit at the foot of his bed, voice carried on the crisp forest breeze.

He sat down and tried to rub the dreary fog out of his eyes, only to end up with stinging skin. The rain rippled the water in the basin, making the moonlight flicker and shine. It was comforting.

He nearly fell asleep but quickly gathered enough strength to scramble into the manor and set up a messy cot on the balcony. While laying in the rain, he gazed up at the moon. He sadly noted that in it's waning state, the sliver that remained would soon be gone. As he drifted off, the whisper of the winds sang with the roaring of thunder, keeping a chaotic melody with the sheets of rain and light.

The following morning he was awoken by a pair of housekeepers, one of them busy frantically drying him off and the other was gone, fetching new clothes. It didn't take him long to realize both his night shirt and cloak were soaked through and he was trembling. Soon the aforementioned absent housekeeper, returned with a fresh stack of clothes and a warm plate of toast.

He'd subconsciously hoped for bacon, but it was foolish, they'd run out a while ago and the butchers had their hands full. When he was alone he changed and ate, mindlessly noting that Vanessa was absent. He brushed his damp hair and cleaned himself up up before heading down to the kitchen. Vanessa sat at the table, head tilted down towards her untouched plate.

Her gaze shot up as he sat down, and after a drag of deafening silence, he stuck out his tongue, making her somber look disolve into a giggling fit, her laugh made his heart skip a beat and the tension in the air quickly faded. The topic of last night was ignored and and shunned from conversation, neither party wanting to bring it up.

Something had been bugging him since he woke up but he couldn't put his finger on it, his voice rang through the tall room, "I feel strange, like I've forgotten something but I'm not sure what, do you have any ideas Nessa?" Her eyes flickered for a second, a variety of emotions flashing over her features before it settled on a sure smile. "You probably just forgot to pick something up from the market, we can just get it later!" He nodded, that was it. nothing to worry about.

Chapter Text

Heya! Sorry about this uuuuh *checks date* sheesh- 2 year long hiatus, but my motivation is (as mentioned) fickle, and I've got a whoooole lotta life stuff, bright side though; This isn't getting abandoned! Re-freshed, maybe, but only because reading some of the earlier chapters (aka most of them) make me go "Yeesh" I am definitely giving this story a better, more eye-catching summery because wow does it read like a stab to my confidence. Hope some of ya'll are still around, would be nice if ya'll let me know you're not, ya' know, dead. I did get another Kudos recently, and if you're that person, thank you! And another big thank you to all of you who decided to read my little amateur fanfic, it means a lot to me, genuinely Love ya'll, I'll be back with more updates soon! (Hopefully, no promises/hj)