Namaygoosisagagun First Nation/Collins has burned to the ground. The entire community is nothing but ashes after being quickly consumed by wildfires. They did not have any support from emergency services, and no one offered aid. The community saved themselves by escaping into boats because no one came.
Mishkeegogamang and Cat Lake have lost power. Families are ending up in shelters with nothing. Armstrong, Lac La Croix, Whitesand, Gull Bay, Lac des Mille Lacs are currently in the fires path and all members are being evacuated.
All this loss, all this devastation, and it was entirely preventable.
After steadily underfunding wildland firefighting and purposefully excluding Indigenous wildland firefighters and Indigenous wildfire organizations from wildfire operations, firefighter training, decisionmaking, and resource exchanges, in 2025, Doug Ford slashed the forest firefighting budget.
It's hard to ignore his decision to cut funding and leave us out of adequate fire training (even though we've lived with forest fires for thousands of years—far longer than settlers have been in Canada—and made sure fires like the ones we're all seeing today were prevented through kinisitotēn) when, despite making up less than 5% of the population, we account for 42% percent of all wildfire evacuations in Canada.
And when we are successfully evacuated, we face discrimination and racism—like Kashechewan—because it's always been easier to blame us than it is to blame the true culprit: denialism, corportate greed, and colonization.
The people of Collins and every other impacted community deserve better.
Right now, the AFN is currently accepting donations to help Collins First Nation. If you're able to, please consider donating.
ONWA (Ontario Native Women's Association) is another great place to donate to. They have outreach vans going to motels and inns and offering food, water, resources, and cultural support to those impacted by the wildfires.
Other places to consider donating to are Mikinakoos Emergency Fund, Red Cross, True North Aid, Indigenous Climate Action. You can also send donations directly to Whitesand First Nation via e-transfer ([email protected]) and they request that you add your full name in the e-transfer comment section to receive a tax receipt.
*Before sending money, verify that the appeal appears on an official First Nation, Tribal Council or registered charity channel.
If you can't offer financial support, please consider donating items of need. Moontime Connections is currently accepting drop-off donations. If you live in the Thunder Bay area, Namaygoosisagagun Health Office is also taking in donations! They can also bemailed to Superior Inn Hotel & Conference Centre at 555 West Arthur Street, Thunder Bay, ON, P7E 5P8.
O hey I just realized I can technically post these here LMAO my bsky will get the extra spicy goods once they're crafted *winkwonk*
two bits of inspiration for this spicy AF fic written by wimsicalpan (that I was forced to draw after they barged into my feed with "enjin in a crop top") 👇👇👇
Sometimes a creative outlet is a fun little hobby and sometimes it's a lifelong affliction. Like I crochet because making little woven animals sparks joy and I'm a writer whether I like it or not because I'm tormented by visions
general cw: levi ackerman x fem!reader, fantasy au, royalty au, friends to enemies to lovers, reader has a default name
chapter cw: none
word count: 7648
Soft voices murmur over the sound of silverware on porcelain when Theo walks into the dining hall.
Mud is caked onto his boots from the journey from Desovik to the manor. Round droplets of water still cling to his hair from the rain that started up an hour ago. Normally, he’d head straight for his chambers to freshen up before dinner, but a steady pulse of indignation keeps him marching forward.
At the head of the long table, the king and queen sit in their usual seats. There’s an empty spot next to Theo’s mother, while Zeke sits immediately to the king’s right. He doesn’t look over as Theo approaches, still talking as he cuts into a serving of roasted chicken.
Theo doesn’t sit.
Instead, he walks to the head of the table, standing at the junction between where the king and Zeke sit. When he stops, everyone turns.
“Theo.” The king’s eyes travel slowly over his appearance with a mild expression, then follow the line of dirt tracked into the room behind him. “You’ve hardly missed dinner. Perhaps you’d like to clean yourself up and join us.”
“I would be glad to,” Theo nods, keeping his fists clenched at his sides, “but first, I’d like to give you an update on Victoria.”
Beside his father, the queen sits up a bit straighter and rests her fork on her plate.
“Oh, there’s no need,” the king says, waving his hand. “Zeke was just telling me that his men have given him a full report. I know they’re climbing Mount Stygia.”
“It’s possible they’ve made it to the other side by now,” Theo says. “There are several towns and villages in the valley that they could run to. There’s no telling where they’ve gone, and it will take my men over a week to go around.”
“Actually,” Zeke cuts in, “I suspect they’re on their way to Fendon.”
Theo’s head snaps to the other man. “What evidence do you have of that?”
Adjusting his glasses, Zeke returns his attention to the king. “Are you certain Victoria and Levi Ackerman weren’t in communication before she left?”
He’s given a quick nod.
“Yes. She wasn’t allowed to send or receive mail from anyone outside of our immediate family.”
Zeke seems to consider his answer. “Yes, well she also wasn’t allowed to leave the manor.” His gaze returns to Theo. “I find it strange that a girl such as herself was able to easily escape twice under the nose of Orenfeld’s newest sergeant major. My general told me that you interfered with their pursuit.”
“Yes, I’m glad you brought that up.” Theo takes a step forward, and if he didn’t know any better, he would think Zeke was sizing him up. It takes all of the effort in the world to not rip him up from his seat. “Would you care to explain why your men shot at my sister?”
It’s almost imperceptible, but a brief look of surprise flashes over Zeke’s features before it shifts to concern. If the news is not actually a shock to him, he does a convincing job of making it seem like one.
After a moment, he moves the linen cloth from his lap to the table and gets to his feet.
“I can assure you that I did not give that order,” he says, his mouth pressed into a thin frown. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and take care of this matter immediately.” Tentatively, he regards the king and queen before continuing. “I care very deeply for your daughter and only wish to see her returned unharmed. Anyone found in my ranks with ill intent will be sent back to Sondaria for trial.”
With a short bow, he makes for the doors to the encampment outside, leaving Theo with the king and queen. Two staff members appear from the adjoining kitchen to take plates and clear out the mud he’d tracked in.
“I’m sorry for interrupting dinner,” he begins, but the king raises his hand to stop him.
“Go and get cleaned up,” he says, gesturing wordlessly for the staff to take Zeke’s plate. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll get your report.” His gaze lingers for a moment on his son. “Thank you, Theo.”
With a nod, he exits out the main doors leading to the grand staircase.
His hands remain in tight fists until he makes it to his bedchamber on the second floor. After a weary thank you to the guard posted outside that opens the door for him, he allows his shoulders to sag once he’s alone.
All this time, he’s been adamant that this arrangement was beneficial for everyone involved. You, restless as you were, would get out of the tight clutches of your overprotective parents. Orenfeld would see victory over the south. A new alliance would form between Sondaria and Orenfeld.
He wasn’t exactly overjoyed when he first met Zeke, but the man had seemed pleasant enough in conversation. He was ambitious and quick-witted, bold when others were reluctant to speak their mind. He had considered Zeke a good match for you—someone strong. Someone who could rule.
But seeing you with him on the evening of the feast, how you had seemed so stiff and reluctant to take Zeke’s hand for a dance. The way he seemed to handle you like a possession. It was that night when Theo began to see the dangerous pride that dwelled underneath.
It would have been easy to wipe that breezy, confident smirk off of Zeke’s face, but he needs to control himself. One lapse in judgment and not only would Sondaria back out of their agreement, but he’d have his father to answer to.
Theo walks into the bathroom adjacent to his quarters, stripping off the layers of armor along the way. When he’s left to wait for water to fill the tub, he leans against the wash basin to look at his reflection.
There is something in Zeke’s reaction that doesn’t sit right in his mind. And why had he avoided answering why he thought Victoria was heading to Fendon?
He thinks again of the memory of arrows flying through the air, headed straight to your retreating back before something diverted them off course. For a moment, he thought his fear and anger had manifested another power within him, but he hadn’t felt the distinct stir of magic coursing through his body in that moment like he has so many times before. Whatever it was—whoever it was—had saved your life that day. If they hadn’t…
A dull crunch breaks him out of his thoughts, and he looks down to see that the basin has cracked in several places, starting where his hands were clenched around the edge before blooming outward like roots in the stone.
***
Five days pass without a single stone out of place around the perimeter of Fendon. All of the surrounding villages–Greenhaven, Barrowford, Glundhill, Silver Creek–are quiet. There have been no reports of anything amiss or unfamiliar travelers passing through.
That reassurance should put Levi at ease. Why then, does it feel like he’s missing something? Like whatever is amiss is staring him in the face.
He’s felt that a lot over the last two weeks. It’s as if something has shifted by degrees, slowly, ever since that night in Jaskin City.
It’s part of why he volunteered to look into the reports of soldiers spotted near the outskirts of town. A return to normalcy would usually help to restore some balance, but after the three days traveling across the gently sloped hills and valleys of West Orenfeld, he felt more unnerved than ever.
Not seeing Orenfeldian soldiers was usually a good thing, but now…
Unbidden, you slip into the forefront of Levi’s mind, and he sighs. A strange sensation accompanies it, low in his stomach, much like it has every moment he’s thought of you in the last three days and in reflex, he draws the hand not guiding Jasper’s reins to his brow. His head swims and pounds with the movement.
“Not even around and she’s still a nuisance,” Levi mutters to himself.
And yet, even as he says it, he knows the words don’t quite ring true. Not like they used to, at least.
He brings his hand back down to his side where a dark red stain has bloomed through his tunic and soaked into the hem of his trousers. It’s more important right now that he focuses on getting back to the farm before bleeding to death.
He crosses through the low stone wall that trails along the entrance of town, passing the decorated square.
When he first arrived back in Orenfeld, Fendon was the first place he visited. It had a rougher reputation back then. A haven for vagrants and other people deemed too unsavory for polite society. Access to the port drew all kinds of attention for people wanting an easy escape route. The harbormasters were known for turning a blind eye for a bit of coin.
He met Petra and Oluo in his first three months back. After being bitten by a venomous manderi, he had wound up at Dr. Ral’s front door. He had healed him and given him a room out of the cold.
Sometimes it felt as if destiny had manipulated the string of his fate. He ended up spending most of his time in the hardy coastal town, and Fendon became more like a home to him than anywhere else.
Now the main square glitters like a jewel in the receding halo of the sun. Enchanted lanterns filled with sun stones illuminate the marketplace, casting empty stalls in shadow as Jasper trots down the lane.
Thankfully, he doesn’t need to be reminded how to get home. It takes all of Levi’s remaining strength just to hang on as the familiar outline of the farm crests the horizon.
When he arrives, he thanks any deity that will listen that Petra is still awake.
As Levi waits with his weight bolstered against the kitchen table, she emerges from another room. The collection of things in her hands isn’t unfamiliar, but Levi always dreads the part that follows.
“So, what got you this time?” she asks as she comes to stand on his left.
With a bit of effort, Levi slowly lifts the hem of his shirt, revealing a long, bleeding gash on his torso. It’s too shallow to be a mortal wound, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of it.
“I don’t actually know,” he says. Without warning, she presses a cloth to the wound, now soaked in alcohol, and he winces. “Owen caught me on the way back into town and said something had been killing his goats. Thought it was just going to be another fiend, but the damn thing had claws the size of my arm.”
Blood mixes with the astringent smell of alcohol in the air, and Levi looks down to see the cloth pressed to his skin has now taken on a deep crimson color. After a few passes, his skin comes away clean.
“There are new creatures showing up every week.” Petra sighs, her brows furrowed in concentration as she shifts to thread a needle. “Kathrin had a den golem show up in her house yesterday. At least they’re helpful around the house but—oh, sorry!”
She falls silent after he hisses in pain, redirecting all of her focus into stitching his side.
A comfortable silence settles in between them for a few minutes, then Levi asks, “How has everything been going?”
Petra’s silent long enough to finish threading the suture through his skin. “Slower than expected,” she finally says, knowing exactly what he’s asking. “But I don’t think it’s an issue of learning. She seems… distracted.”
Levi hums. He’s seen it too. The way you would twitch and whimper in your sleep by the fire. How the smile you always put on never quite meets your eyes.
He had hoped that giving you an actual bed to sleep in would help with the nightmares. Maybe then you could focus, but it seemed there was more to it than a lack of sleep.
“How are the preparations coming for the feast?” Petra asks, changing the subject. The little wrinkle between her brows that forms when she’s worried begins to deepen.
“I’ll be helping tomorrow with a few final things,” he says, and he watches as her shoulders visibly relax. “Whatever those soldiers wanted, they seem to have moved on, so everything should go as planned.”
With a nod, Petra turns back.
“She asks about you a lot, you know?” she suddenly says, tilting her head. A tinge of gentleness seeps through her words that reveals there's something on her mind. Whatever it is makes her lip curl up into a half-smile. “Wonders where you are and when you’re coming back.”
There’s something about knowing that you ask about him that makes him feel a little guilty. Truthfully, he could have been around more, but the three nights alone has helped to clear his head.
“It's funny,” Petra continues thoughtfully. “She doesn’t act like a tavern girl. You should see her try to peel potatoes. You’d think she’s never worked in a kitchen a day in her life.”
The deliberate choice of words has him turning to look at her, and she meets Levi’s gaze with a pointed look.
Petra raises her brows. “Could that be because she’s not who she says she is?”
His first instinct is to deny it, but Levi knows she wouldn’t have brought it up if she wasn’t already confident she was right. Instead Levi sets his jaw and his mouth forms into a thin line. It sets Petra into a fit of laughter.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who she actually is, are you?” she asks when she’s finally calmed down.
He sighs, at a complete loss for what to say. Telling her the truth was too much of a risk, and he’s not even sure she’d believe him if he tried. After a beat, he finally settles on, “It’s complicated.”
“That’s fine.” She waves her hand dismissively, still grinning. “I figure if you’re hiding it from me, you’ve got a good reason.”
That would be putting it lightly. Petra could be many things, but she wasn’t stupid. Or malicious. While you’re safe here, he knows she wouldn’t be pleased to know that he was harboring the princess of Orenfeld under her roof. And that’s not even to mention if soldiers get an idea that you’re here. It’s safer for everyone if she doesn’t know.
He’ll consider admitting it when you’re long gone. But until then, he could at least divulge one thing. Something that’s been bothering him since that night in Desovik.
He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then tries again. “She said a doe led her into Jaskin City.” Beside him, Petra’s movements pause. “That’s where I found her. I think a silvern led her to me.”
Petra gives him a long, thoughtful look. “Well, isn’t that good news?”
He shrugs. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Well, un-complicate it.” Like the issue is resolved, she gathers the leftover items and heads back for the door. “I know you like to pretend like you haven’t got a heart in there, but it wouldn’t kill you to open up a little. Invite her to the festival tomorrow. She could use a break, I think.” She pauses for a moment, considering her words before adding, “you both could,” and slips out of the room.
***
You’re in the Mordonian forest again.
It’s dark. All around you are trees, the canopy so thick that you can hardly see the ground beneath your feet.
It’s impossible to tell which part of the forest you’re in. Every direction looks the same. You try to get your bearings, but something howls in the distance, turning your blood to ice.
Before you know what you’re doing, you run. Loud, galloping footsteps follow, growing louder as your heart pounds in your chest. A snarl echoes against the trunks of trees. There could be more than one creature, but you don’t dare a glance over your shoulder to find out.
Scrambling over a fallen oak, a paved path of pearly white stone appears to break between the trees ahead. A figure is standing there and you shout. When they turn, you see that it’s Levi.
He extends his hand and relief washes over you. If whatever is following you is some creature, there isn’t anyone better to take it down. When you reach him, he takes your hand in his.
“Hurry,” he says. “You’re going to be late.”
The footsteps behind you have stopped, but now Levi’s leading you down the stone pathway in a sprint.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
He doesn’t answer.
“Levi?”
“Hurry up,” he growls. “He’s waiting.”
You frown. Who is waiting?
In the distance, the pathway opens up until you see the end. Two people stand on the stone edge, waiting.
Your stomach lurches as you realize one of them is Zeke. The other is your father.
It’s an altar.
You fight to pull your hand from Levi’s, but he doesn’t let go.
“What are you doing?” All of your strength isn’t enough to get away. Panic sets in as you get closer.
“You would never make it out here,” Levi says. Behind him, in the tree line, a small doe emerges from the forest, watching. “Stupid, spoiled brat. You never were good enough for me.”
He forces you to Zeke’s side despite your protests. Two strong hands bind your wrists, then you’re looking from another angle, watching as Levi and Petra stand before one another, their hands clasped as your father stands before them. You watch in stunned silence as they embrace one another, sharing a kiss as husband and wife.
You bolt upright with a gasp, hands trembling as you rub away the sensation of tight fingers from your wrists.
The familiar outline of Levi’s room slowly comes into focus in the dark, and you breathe a shaky sigh.
It was just another bad dream.
You take a moment to ground yourself, curling your shaky fingers around the blanket pooled in your lap and looking around the room. It’s still late. There’s one candle still lit, the flame just barely casting a glow bright enough to see much of anything beyond the edge of the bed. Only hot coals remain in the hearth nearby.
The room is cold enough to produce goosebumps over your arms and shoulders. You frown as the sensation prickles over your skin, making you shiver.
You shake your head, willing your thoughts to return to the present and not on how that dream made the pit of your stomach coil like some angry, provoked beast. It’s cold. That would explain why you’re having strange dreams about Levi and Petra of all people. At least it beats the usual ones you’ve been having lately of being eaten, you suppose.
As you wait for your heart rate to return to normal, you give up on the prospect of falling back to sleep and wrap the blanket around yourself. With the waning candle in one hand, you drag your heavy limbs to the sofa in front of the fireplace. It takes a few tries with the kindling that Oluo had chopped for you that morning, but eventually, you get another fire going.
Without really thinking about it, you step over to your bag to grab a book to pass the time. The day before, Petra had indulged your interest in her garden and offered to let you read some of her father’s journals on medicinal plants. At the very least, reading them would keep your mind from wandering until sunrise.
You reach into your bag and feel around for a spine, but a dim glow from inside piques your curiosity instead.
The necklace Zeke had gifted you seems to have somehow grown more radiant since you last looked at it over a week ago with Levi on the mountain. You pull it out, holding it from a distance with two fingers. Each amber crystal swirls with its own internal light and you get the unusual urge to put it on.
The sudden sound of the door opening behind you nearly causes you to drop it.
Levi is standing in the doorway. His clothes are ripped and torn in places and his skin appears unnaturally pale and clammy.
“Levi,” you greet, your surprise of his return heavy in your tone. “You’re back.”
For a moment, Levi just watches you, taking in the violet half-moons under your eyes and the subtle slump of your shoulders.
“It’s late,” he replies, shifting his attention to the kitchen. “What are you doing awake?”
Exhaustion burns behind your eyes, but you keep your expression mild. “Just reading.”
There’s a noticeable limp in the way that Levi walks into the kitchen, and when he makes it into the light, you see the crimson stain of blood on the front of his tunic.
Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re on your feet, abandoning the necklace and your bag on the table. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ve had worse,” he says. “Would you like some tea?”
You watch from a short distance as he retrieves two mugs from the cupboard and a small pot of tea leaves. There’s tension in his shoulders, and a stiffness in his movements in general as he moves that prompts you forward.
“Let me,” you say gently. “I’m not sure you should be standing.”
You reach for the small pot of tea leaves in Levi’s hand, fitting your fingers between the gaps of his own, but he doesn’t let go. When you attempt to tug it out of his grip, he scowls.
“I’m fine.”
Neither of you yield your hold on the small pot.
You’ve only been this close to him once in recent memory—after the mimic attack—but you hadn’t been looking into his eyes then. They’re a stormy blue, the shade of slate-grey familiar in a way that makes you pause and think of the last time you both held eye contact this long.
It brings back the fresh memory of the dream you had, and the subsequent shame you feel almost makes you pull away.
“Please sit down,” you murmur.
You half expect him to resist again, but he doesn’t. With a sneer, Levi finally lets go.
“Fine.” He goes to the nearest chair a few steps away and sinks into it with a heavy sigh. “Just don’t burn it.”
You grin but it’s hidden with your back to him, much like the subtle flush of your cheeks. “I know how to make tea, Levi.”
He mumbles something unintelligible, but you set your focus on heating the water and pouring enough leaves into the porcelain teapot for the both of you. The feeling of Levi’s gaze as you move about is ever-present, but you must brew tea to his liking, because he stays silent until you’re finished.
When you have two cups poured, you carry them to the small table where he’s sitting.
“So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been?” you ask, taking the seat opposite him.
Levi’s hands close around the cup you place in front of him, but he doesn’t immediately move to drink it, choosing instead to stare into the steam gently swirling up from the surface. “I’ve been tracking the soldiers that Oluo saw near Greenhaven.”
Your hand pauses with your own cup halfway to your lips. With everything else going on, you forgot Petra had mentioned them. “Did you find them?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever they wanted, it seems it didn’t have anything to do with you.”
He finally takes a cautious sip and you wait as he appears to let it settle on his tongue before swallowing.
“How is it?”
His head tilts slightly, clearly thinking about it. “Not bad.”
Something about his attempt to choose his words carefully makes you want to laugh, but you get the feeling that it would likely strike a nerve. Still, it doesn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. “You’re a horrible liar.”
“I didn’t say it was great,” he points out.
“In my defense, I don’t usually make it for myself.”
“It shows.”
A brief, but not entirely awkward, silence stretches between the next two sips you take. Exhaustion continues to cling to your eyelids, and your body is starting to feel weighed down and sluggish. It seems the lack of sound sleep is beginning to take its toll.
Levi idly looks around the room. His eyes spot the preternatural glow of the necklace from the other table, the rumpled blanket, and the crackling fire in the hearth, now a bit smaller than when he first walked in.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re awake?”
The question itself is benign, but there’s a sincere earnestness in Levi’s eyes that takes you off guard. It’s the first time since you met him in Jaskin City that he’s asked in his own roundabout way how you’re feeling.
Does this mean that he actually cares, or is this going to be like the other times where you act too familiar and he backs off? But then, you doubt he would have bothered to ask if he didn’t want to know.
You open your mouth, but for several long seconds nothing comes out.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” you finally confess. “Sorry, I know that sounds silly when you’re sitting across from me covered in blood, but…” You trail off slightly, feeling a knot forming in your throat. Embarrassment floods your eyes, making them burn, so you close them and try to breathe. “It’s just been really difficult to adjust to all of this.”
Across from you, Levi’s expression stays fixed in a look of mild contemplation. You used to be able to read his microexpressions with ease, but now you can’t discern what he’s thinking. You think again of your dream. Maybe you really wouldn’t make it out here, in the real world.
“It isn’t silly.” Finally, Levi breaks the silence, briefly casting his gaze down to his tea. “Honestly, after the week we’ve had, you’re doing better than I expected.”
So, he does trust that you’re ignorant to most of the things you’ve encountered at least. As for the rest of it, you don’t know.
You want to bring it up again. You want to remind him that it wasn’t you who told your father about his identity, just to see if he’ll acknowledge it in some way. Forgive you, shout at you. Anything but ignore it. Just to know where you stand.
But ignoring it is an answer on its own in a way. By not acknowledging it, he gets to keep you at a distance. Maybe that’s what he’s been subtly trying to communicate this whole time. Surface level stuff is fine. Objective truths—the weather, what needs to be done in order to meet both of your goals. You’d need basic levels of camaraderie in order to see it through, but nothing deeper than that.
You suppose after all this time, maybe you owe it to him to just let it rest. If that’s what he wants.
“I didn’t know,” you say, feeling more comfortable to speak freely now that you know he isn’t judging you. “About magic, about you, about those…creatures.” Absently, your hand goes to cover your other one that’s still healing and Levi’s gaze follows the movement.
Despite his grisly condition, he looks slightly amused. “I still can’t believe you punched it.”
You chuckle, but the sound lacks warmth. “Yeah, well. I doubt he felt it much.”
“It was a female, actually.”
You watch him for a moment, expecting a laugh or for him to tell you he’s joking, but he doesn’t. “How do you know?”
“The males are much larger,” he says without a hint of humor. “I’m assuming you got too close to a den.”
All you can do is blink. It was terrifying enough to face one, much less to consider that mimics have sexual characteristics and breed. And the males were larger?
The thought alone makes you want to shiver, but you breathe out a shaky sigh instead. “Just got lucky, I guess.”
“My point, Tori, is that you’ve experienced a lot this week. And it’s scary, going into something blind like you’re doing, but you’re making the choice yourself. As long as you’re happy with that, don’t let anything stop you.” He finishes the last of his tea, then gestures to your own. “Drink all of it. It’ll help you sleep. I’m going to clean up.” He gestures to himself.
He gets to his feet and retreats into the bathroom. Still at the table, you look down into your almost empty cup.
So, that’s why you feel so tired all of a sudden. Tired enough to actually sleep. He had taken one look at you and knew just what you needed. That’s thoughtful.
The realization hits you like a tidal wave, and you’re filled with a mixture of gratitude and wistfulness.
Tori. He hasn’t called you that since you were kids.
***
You don’t wake until the early afternoon. Levi is already gone when you come to. The bed has been made and his boots and bags are gone. If it wasn’t for the mug left in the sink, you’d wonder if the night before had been some bizarre extension of your dreams.
You feel lighter as you get ready for the day, refreshed despite sleeping on the cramped sofa. Even though he had told you to take it initially, you figured it was only fair to give Levi his bed back since he was injured, and he apparently hadn’t protested. Or maybe he just didn’t want to wake you when he returned to find you already asleep in front of the fire.
Petra is already out in the garden when you find her a little while later.
It’s a bright and sunny day, so you had opted for one of your simpler dresses and pulled your hair back into a plain braid when getting ready. It would make it easier for picking plants.
“Morning, Iz!” Petra waves. She’s standing in front of an overgrown bed of white flowers, a pair of gloves already on her hands resting on her hips.
You smile in greeting. You’re getting better at acknowledging the fake name you gave her.
“Morning, Petra,” you say. “I thought you weren’t working for Oblation Day?”
She shrugs. “Normally I wouldn’t, but if I put this off, these will overmature.” She gestures to the white flowers, with their blooms no bigger than the palm of your hand.
You recall seeing them in one of the journals she had given you, on a section that her father had dedicated to wound care.
“Yarrow?” you guess, to which Petra smiles. “It’s used to stop bleeding right?”
Grabbing a wide wicker basket waiting on the ground nearby, she stoops slightly to trim a few of the stems. “You’re right! I had to send my stores of a more concentrated mix to Silver Creek a few weeks ago, so I’ll dry these and grind them into powder tomorrow.”
Feeling rather useless, you offer to hold the basket as she keeps plucking the stems.
It’s fascinating to learn about what sorts of plants Petra grows. Most of them are medicinal in nature, helping to cure colds and fevers and dull pain. It’s a science you had never been exposed to in the past, but you’re learning to accept that it was by design.
“You never know when you’re going to need it,” she continues, “so I like to keep ample stock on hand for emergencies. Oh,” she gestures down several rows to a section of large pink and red roses, “we’ll also need more of those for the kinship feast tonight.”
“Kinship feast?”
Petra plucks another bundle and stands up. “Yeah, Levi didn’t tell you?”
Your fingers tighten around the basket’s handle. Is this something that the real Isabel would already know about?
You quickly try to think of a neutral response, but Petra just shakes her head.
“Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.” Dropping the last of the stems into the basket, she leads the way down to the other side of the garden. “It’s the big celebration that we hold each year for Oblation Day in the town square. There’s music and food and drinks.”
You perk up.
“That sounds like fun.”
Petra turns to you. “You should come. I think you’d like it.”
She starts plucking at a bush of large yellow roses. Beside her, you have to temper your interest. As fun as it sounds to eat and dance, to belong, you doubt it would be safe. Trouble seems to follow wherever you go.
“What do you do with these?” you ask, stopping your thoughts in their tracks.
“Oh, these are sold at the feast.” She smiles. “It’s become a bit of a tradition after dinner for people to give one another flowers. Yellow is for friendship,” she gestures to the bloom in her hand before dropping it into the basket, “Pink is given to initiate a romantic courtship, and red is for professing love.”
You follow along as she moves around the bush, gathering clippings into her arms. Has she ever been given a rose? Surely, she has. Petra’s pretty and smart, and if the amount of people coming in and out seeking help for their ailments can vouch for anything, she’s also important to her community. To torture you further, your mind conjures images of Levi approaching her with a large bundle of red and pink roses. A full bouquet.
The feeling of something grazing your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you snap to attention to see Petra reaching toward you. When you meet her eyes, she pulls away, leaving a small rose bud tucked into your hair.
She grins, gesturing to a yellow flower she’s carefully tucked behind her ear. “There. We match now.”
“What are you two doing?”
You nearly startle at the sound of Levi’s voice on the other side of the bush.
He looks considerably healthier than the night before. Some color has come back to his skin and all of the blood and dirt has been washed away. There’s a small cut above his left eyebrow that you hadn’t noticed the night before, but it isn’t deep enough to be concerning.
“It’s called having fun, Levi,” Petra says. “You should give it a try sometime. Look, isn’t she cute?”
With his arms crossed over his chest, Levi’s focus shifts to the flower in your hair, then meets your gaze with total indifference. It makes you want to sink straight down into the earth under your feet.
“You're both going to get bugs in your hair,” he replies, ignoring her question entirely. “Everything’s ready in the square. Oluo is loading the rest of the supplies into the carriage now.”
“Oh, perfect.” With a renewed purpose, Petra pulls the basket of flowers from your arms. “I’ll get these sorted then so we can get going. We’ll see you both there.”
With another wave, she disappears inside.
For whatever reason, her departure leaves behind a heavy silence. Levi stares at you for a moment, and under his scrutiny, you awkwardly pull the flower from your hair.
“I found a ship that’ll take us to Plomaria,” he says after a moment.
“Really? When?”
“In three days, they’re sailing a shipment of goods into the capital. It would put us right where we need to be.”
You absently twirl the stem between your fingers. “Three days,” you repeat, nodding. “Okay.”
Even though you knew this was coming, it’s still difficult to wrap your head around. In three days, you’d leave Orenfeld and likely never come back. You’d leave Levi and Petra and Oluo. Theo and your parents. Zeke.
Were you making the right choice? Did you really want to be free of them forever?
“Did you want to go?”
You look at Levi for a moment, confused. “Well, that’s what we’re here for,” you say slowly. “I agreed to help you.”
“I meant the feast tonight. For Oblation Day.” He sighs like he already regrets asking. “Probably the last bit of fun you’ll have for a while.”
Oh. Well, when he puts it that way, maybe you should.
You smile. “It sounds fun.”
“Then let’s get going.” Unfolding his arms, he turns. “It starts at sundown.”
***
It’s not like any other feast you’ve ever attended.
At the most ambitious, you had anticipated a large group of people somehow gathered together in the main square, but the reality exceeded every expectation.
Dozens of shops and merchant stalls lined the winding main street, shouting out to onlookers and potential buyers in hopes of a sale. There are flower merchants selling bouquets, jewelry-makers, bakers displaying fragrant fruit pies and breads crusted to golden perfection, tailors and cloth traders, butcher shops. Everything you could have ever imagined and more.
You take it all in slowly, standing under an awning in the main square where a troupe of eight artists perform to music nearby for a crowd. They ring bells and dance in step with one another, fluid and graceful as they twist and turn and flip. The crowd oohs and aahs. A few vendors nearby call their thanks to patrons: May her light guide you!
Beside you, Levi watches the crowd. He hasn’t said much other than to clarify what things are when your curiosity has prompted questions. But mostly, he’s just watched like a sentinel on guard.
Once the performing troupe has dispersed, the crowd clears slightly. Music begins again and people begin to pair off in the street, creating an improvised dance space. Among them, you find Petra and Oluo, swaying and laughing together to the music.
Wordlessly, Levi begins walking.
“Wait,” you say, catching up to him. “Did you not want to stay?”
He glances at you. “I thought you might want to take a look around.”
“Well, I do but I’d like to see everyone dance for a bit too.” You fall into step with him. A question builds on your tongue, but you think you already know the answer to it. “Do you not want to dance?”
He scoffs. “I don’t dance.”
So maybe you do still know him a little bit. “You don’t dance, or you don’t know how to?”
“Does it matter?”
“Have you ever tried?”
He gives you an impatient look. “I don’t dance.”
“Fine, spoil sport.” Still, not wanting to dance doesn’t completely explain why he’s been so quiet and tense since you first got to the square. You think back to when he first started to walk away and make a guess. “Is it because of Petra and Oluo?”
His brows furrow. “What? No.”
“Then why are you rushing about with your shoulders up to your ears?” you ask, at a loss. “This is supposed to be a relaxing night of fun and you’re walking around like you’re being hunted.”
Levi’s quiet for several paces down the busy street. It’s hard to see his face in the soft light, but from what you can see, his brows are drawn together and his mouth is pulled into a deep frown.
“I don’t like crowds.”
He says it so quietly that you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the music.
For a moment, you don’t know what to say. After seeing him fight five men at once (and win), traverse a mountain like it was a brisk walk, and then take down a creature you wouldn't have been able to think up in your nightmares if you hadn’t seen it in the flesh, a fear of crowds seemed like the least likely thing he’d have. Petra’s words echo through your mind: Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.
But you remember what he did for you when you admitted you were having nightmares. He listened and had a solution already in place.
You look around where you’ve temporarily stopped. There are people everywhere, lined up and down the street on both sides. The way that a peal of laughter bounces off of the opposite buildings makes you look up, and you find a balcony on the second floor of what looks to be a tavern across the street. It’s mostly empty.
You point. “What about up there then?”
Levi follows your line of sight. There’s still a frown on his face when he sees it, but something like relief settles into his posture.
“Better than being down here.”
You set off down the street together, slipping through the crowd until you come to the road. A carriage passes by, and you stop next to a large statue carved from bronze. At first, you think nothing of it, but more than anything, the name etched into the placard on the stone it’s raised on makes you do a double take.
[Kenny Ackerman]
[30th Lord of Fendon]
It feels like you read those words a dozen times and it still doesn’t quite feel right. He’s standing with his gaze to the harbor, his stance proud and shoulders back. This was the man who tried to kill your father?
You realize about a half-second too late that Levi is already halfway across the road and you rush to catch up, trying to push the monument out of your mind.
The walk into the tavern and up the stairs feels like a blur. The night air becomes warm and thick with tobacco smoke and the smell of ale, then you're back out in the cool breeze again. Somehow, even though it’s just one floor, it feels quieter.
Levi’s standing with his elbows over the railing, watching people pass across the street. The tension in his shoulders seems to have lifted a bit, but he isn’t totally relaxed. He must have seen your interest in the statue.
You join him but keep your gaze on the people below. You incline your head toward them. “Do they know?”
He shakes his head, already clued into your thoughts. “You’re the only one here who knows. To everyone else, I’m just Levi.”
You turn to him then and find that he’s already looking at you, waiting. You offer him a smile. “Well, I guess we have that in common now.”
To your surprise, he mirrors it. Barely, but it’s there and that’s enough. You have more questions, but they can wait.
Behind you, the door opens.
“Would you like a drink, miss?”
A barman smiles and extends a large round tray of ale your way. When you both decline, he nods his head. “May her light guide you both.”
The door swivels closed behind him once again, leaving the phrase hanging in the silence that follows. You’ve heard it said so many times tonight, but for some reason it finally registers as one you’ve never heard.
“What does that mean, ‘may her light guide you’?” you ask, “I’ve heard it everywhere tonight.”
Levi’s focus is out on the horizon. For a moment, you think he hasn’t heard you, too busy lost in his own thoughts.
“They’re referencing the goddess of abundance and good fortune,” he eventually says.
“The old gods?” You tilt your head. “I didn’t know they were worshiped anymore.”
“They are here.” Levi nods. “Some of them rule the laws of magic, some rule natural law. This festival is practiced to give thanks for a good harvest.” His gaze flicks to you then, softer than before. “And it serves as a reminder to nurture new beginnings.”
You pause, not anticipating the olive branch he suddenly seems to be extending to you. It isn’t clear if he’s insinuating he trusts you, but at the very least it sounds as though he’s willing to try.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly.” You turn to him after a moment. “Whether or not you decide you can ever trust me again, I do appreciate your help. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
Levi listens as he watches the crowd ebb and flow on the street below. “No, you wouldn’t.”
His response makes you think of when you were children all those years ago, of the day when you argued beneath your favorite oak tree over how long you’d survive alone on an adventure. The day he told you about his family. The day you asked him to kiss you.
Levi’s mouth curls into a small smile, as if he’s remembering that day too.
“I think this calls for a celebration,” you tell him. “Have a drink with me.” His smile vanishes, but you quickly hold up a finger. “Just one. My treat. You can stay here out of the crowd and I’ll get it.”
He looks at you for a moment, clearly conflicted, but he finally sighs. “Fine. We’ll have one. But hurry. We’re going back to the farm after this. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”
Before he changes his mind, you leave him to hurry downstairs to the bar. You weave carefully through the crowd, sticking to the perimeter in an effort to not draw undue attention to yourself.
It seems almost pointless at this rate. Not a single person has identified you all night and it feels like the entire town is in the square.
You order and pay for two ales once you reach the bar but before you can retrieve them, a soft voice murmurs in your ear through the low hum of conversation.
general cw: levi ackerman x fem!reader, fantasy au, royalty au, friends to enemies to lovers, reader has a default name
chapter cw: none
word count: 7648
Soft voices murmur over the sound of silverware on porcelain when Theo walks into the dining hall.
Mud is caked onto his boots from the journey from Desovik to the manor. Round droplets of water still cling to his hair from the rain that started up an hour ago. Normally, he’d head straight for his chambers to freshen up before dinner, but a steady pulse of indignation keeps him marching forward.
At the head of the long table, the king and queen sit in their usual seats. There’s an empty spot next to Theo’s mother, while Zeke sits immediately to the king’s right. He doesn’t look over as Theo approaches, still talking as he cuts into a serving of roasted chicken.
Theo doesn’t sit.
Instead, he walks to the head of the table, standing at the junction between where the king and Zeke sit. When he stops, everyone turns.
“Theo.” The king’s eyes travel slowly over his appearance with a mild expression, then follow the line of dirt tracked into the room behind him. “You’ve hardly missed dinner. Perhaps you’d like to clean yourself up and join us.”
“I would be glad to,” Theo nods, keeping his fists clenched at his sides, “but first, I’d like to give you an update on Victoria.”
Beside his father, the queen sits up a bit straighter and rests her fork on her plate.
“Oh, there’s no need,” the king says, waving his hand. “Zeke was just telling me that his men have given him a full report. I know they’re climbing Mount Stygia.”
“It’s possible they’ve made it to the other side by now,” Theo says. “There are several towns and villages in the valley that they could run to. There’s no telling where they’ve gone, and it will take my men over a week to go around.”
“Actually,” Zeke cuts in, “I suspect they’re on their way to Fendon.”
Theo’s head snaps to the other man. “What evidence do you have of that?”
Adjusting his glasses, Zeke returns his attention to the king. “Are you certain Victoria and Levi Ackerman weren’t in communication before she left?”
He’s given a quick nod.
“Yes. She wasn’t allowed to send or receive mail from anyone outside of our immediate family.”
Zeke seems to consider his answer. “Yes, well she also wasn’t allowed to leave the manor.” His gaze returns to Theo. “I find it strange that a girl such as herself was able to easily escape twice under the nose of Orenfeld’s newest sergeant major. My general told me that you interfered with their pursuit.”
“Yes, I’m glad you brought that up.” Theo takes a step forward, and if he didn’t know any better, he would think Zeke was sizing him up. It takes all of the effort in the world to not rip him up from his seat. “Would you care to explain why your men shot at my sister?”
It’s almost imperceptible, but a brief look of surprise flashes over Zeke’s features before it shifts to concern. If the news is not actually a shock to him, he does a convincing job of making it seem like one.
After a moment, he moves the linen cloth from his lap to the table and gets to his feet.
“I can assure you that I did not give that order,” he says, his mouth pressed into a thin frown. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and take care of this matter immediately.” Tentatively, he regards the king and queen before continuing. “I care very deeply for your daughter and only wish to see her returned unharmed. Anyone found in my ranks with ill intent will be sent back to Sondaria for trial.”
With a short bow, he makes for the doors to the encampment outside, leaving Theo with the king and queen. Two staff members appear from the adjoining kitchen to take plates and clear out the mud he’d tracked in.
“I’m sorry for interrupting dinner,” he begins, but the king raises his hand to stop him.
“Go and get cleaned up,” he says, gesturing wordlessly for the staff to take Zeke’s plate. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll get your report.” His gaze lingers for a moment on his son. “Thank you, Theo.”
With a nod, he exits out the main doors leading to the grand staircase.
His hands remain in tight fists until he makes it to his bedchamber on the second floor. After a weary thank you to the guard posted outside that opens the door for him, he allows his shoulders to sag once he’s alone.
All this time, he’s been adamant that this arrangement was beneficial for everyone involved. You, restless as you were, would get out of the tight clutches of your overprotective parents. Orenfeld would see victory over the south. A new alliance would form between Sondaria and Orenfeld.
He wasn’t exactly overjoyed when he first met Zeke, but the man had seemed pleasant enough in conversation. He was ambitious and quick-witted, bold when others were reluctant to speak their mind. He had considered Zeke a good match for you—someone strong. Someone who could rule.
But seeing you with him on the evening of the feast, how you had seemed so stiff and reluctant to take Zeke’s hand for a dance. The way he seemed to handle you like a possession. It was that night when Theo began to see the dangerous pride that dwelled underneath.
It would have been easy to wipe that breezy, confident smirk off of Zeke’s face, but he needs to control himself. One lapse in judgment and not only would Sondaria back out of their agreement, but he’d have his father to answer to.
Theo walks into the bathroom adjacent to his quarters, stripping off the layers of armor along the way. When he’s left to wait for water to fill the tub, he leans against the wash basin to look at his reflection.
There is something in Zeke’s reaction that doesn’t sit right in his mind. And why had he avoided answering why he thought Victoria was heading to Fendon?
He thinks again of the memory of arrows flying through the air, headed straight to your retreating back before something diverted them off course. For a moment, he thought his fear and anger had manifested another power within him, but he hadn’t felt the distinct stir of magic coursing through his body in that moment like he has so many times before. Whatever it was—whoever it was—had saved your life that day. If they hadn’t…
A dull crunch breaks him out of his thoughts, and he looks down to see that the basin has cracked in several places, starting where his hands were clenched around the edge before blooming outward like roots in the stone.
***
Five days pass without a single stone out of place around the perimeter of Fendon. All of the surrounding villages–Greenhaven, Barrowford, Glundhill, Silver Creek–are quiet. There have been no reports of anything amiss or unfamiliar travelers passing through.
That reassurance should put Levi at ease. Why then, does it feel like he’s missing something? Like whatever is amiss is staring him in the face.
He’s felt that a lot over the last two weeks. It’s as if something has shifted by degrees, slowly, ever since that night in Jaskin City.
It’s part of why he volunteered to look into the reports of soldiers spotted near the outskirts of town. A return to normalcy would usually help to restore some balance, but after the three days traveling across the gently sloped hills and valleys of West Orenfeld, he felt more unnerved than ever.
Not seeing Orenfeldian soldiers was usually a good thing, but now…
Unbidden, you slip into the forefront of Levi’s mind, and he sighs. A strange sensation accompanies it, low in his stomach, much like it has every moment he’s thought of you in the last three days and in reflex, he draws the hand not guiding Jasper’s reins to his brow. His head swims and pounds with the movement.
“Not even around and she’s still a nuisance,” Levi mutters to himself.
And yet, even as he says it, he knows the words don’t quite ring true. Not like they used to, at least.
He brings his hand back down to his side where a dark red stain has bloomed through his tunic and soaked into the hem of his trousers. It’s more important right now that he focuses on getting back to the farm before bleeding to death.
He crosses through the low stone wall that trails along the entrance of town, passing the decorated square.
When he first arrived back in Orenfeld, Fendon was the first place he visited. It had a rougher reputation back then. A haven for vagrants and other people deemed too unsavory for polite society. Access to the port drew all kinds of attention for people wanting an easy escape route. The harbormasters were known for turning a blind eye for a bit of coin.
He met Petra and Oluo in his first three months back. After being bitten by a venomous manderi, he had wound up at Dr. Ral’s front door. He had healed him and given him a room out of the cold.
Sometimes it felt as if destiny had manipulated the string of his fate. He ended up spending most of his time in the hardy coastal town, and Fendon became more like a home to him than anywhere else.
Now the main square glitters like a jewel in the receding halo of the sun. Enchanted lanterns filled with sun stones illuminate the marketplace, casting empty stalls in shadow as Jasper trots down the lane.
Thankfully, he doesn’t need to be reminded how to get home. It takes all of Levi’s remaining strength just to hang on as the familiar outline of the farm crests the horizon.
When he arrives, he thanks any deity that will listen that Petra is still awake.
As Levi waits with his weight bolstered against the kitchen table, she emerges from another room. The collection of things in her hands isn’t unfamiliar, but Levi always dreads the part that follows.
“So, what got you this time?” she asks as she comes to stand on his left.
With a bit of effort, Levi slowly lifts the hem of his shirt, revealing a long, bleeding gash on his torso. It’s too shallow to be a mortal wound, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of it.
“I don’t actually know,” he says. Without warning, she presses a cloth to the wound, now soaked in alcohol, and he winces. “Owen caught me on the way back into town and said something had been killing his goats. Thought it was just going to be another fiend, but the damn thing had claws the size of my arm.”
Blood mixes with the astringent smell of alcohol in the air, and Levi looks down to see the cloth pressed to his skin has now taken on a deep crimson color. After a few passes, his skin comes away clean.
“There are new creatures showing up every week.” Petra sighs, her brows furrowed in concentration as she shifts to thread a needle. “Kathrin had a den golem show up in her house yesterday. At least they’re helpful around the house but—oh, sorry!”
She falls silent after he hisses in pain, redirecting all of her focus into stitching his side.
A comfortable silence settles in between them for a few minutes, then Levi asks, “How has everything been going?”
Petra’s silent long enough to finish threading the suture through his skin. “Slower than expected,” she finally says, knowing exactly what he’s asking. “But I don’t think it’s an issue of learning. She seems… distracted.”
Levi hums. He’s seen it too. The way you would twitch and whimper in your sleep by the fire. How the smile you always put on never quite meets your eyes.
He had hoped that giving you an actual bed to sleep in would help with the nightmares. Maybe then you could focus, but it seemed there was more to it than a lack of sleep.
“How are the preparations coming for the feast?” Petra asks, changing the subject. The little wrinkle between her brows that forms when she’s worried begins to deepen.
“I’ll be helping tomorrow with a few final things,” he says, and he watches as her shoulders visibly relax. “Whatever those soldiers wanted, they seem to have moved on, so everything should go as planned.”
With a nod, Petra turns back.
“She asks about you a lot, you know?” she suddenly says, tilting her head. A tinge of gentleness seeps through her words that reveals there's something on her mind. Whatever it is makes her lip curl up into a half-smile. “Wonders where you are and when you’re coming back.”
There’s something about knowing that you ask about him that makes him feel a little guilty. Truthfully, he could have been around more, but the three nights alone has helped to clear his head.
“It's funny,” Petra continues thoughtfully. “She doesn’t act like a tavern girl. You should see her try to peel potatoes. You’d think she’s never worked in a kitchen a day in her life.”
The deliberate choice of words has him turning to look at her, and she meets Levi’s gaze with a pointed look.
Petra raises her brows. “Could that be because she’s not who she says she is?”
His first instinct is to deny it, but Levi knows she wouldn’t have brought it up if she wasn’t already confident she was right. Instead Levi sets his jaw and his mouth forms into a thin line. It sets Petra into a fit of laughter.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who she actually is, are you?” she asks when she’s finally calmed down.
He sighs, at a complete loss for what to say. Telling her the truth was too much of a risk, and he’s not even sure she’d believe him if he tried. After a beat, he finally settles on, “It’s complicated.”
“That’s fine.” She waves her hand dismissively, still grinning. “I figure if you’re hiding it from me, you’ve got a good reason.”
That would be putting it lightly. Petra could be many things, but she wasn’t stupid. Or malicious. While you’re safe here, he knows she wouldn’t be pleased to know that he was harboring the princess of Orenfeld under her roof. And that’s not even to mention if soldiers get an idea that you’re here. It’s safer for everyone if she doesn’t know.
He’ll consider admitting it when you’re long gone. But until then, he could at least divulge one thing. Something that’s been bothering him since that night in Desovik.
He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then tries again. “She said a doe led her into Jaskin City.” Beside him, Petra’s movements pause. “That’s where I found her. I think a silvern led her to me.”
Petra gives him a long, thoughtful look. “Well, isn’t that good news?”
He shrugs. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Well, un-complicate it.” Like the issue is resolved, she gathers the leftover items and heads back for the door. “I know you like to pretend like you haven’t got a heart in there, but it wouldn’t kill you to open up a little. Invite her to the festival tomorrow. She could use a break, I think.” She pauses for a moment, considering her words before adding, “you both could,” and slips out of the room.
***
You’re in the Mordonian forest again.
It’s dark. All around you are trees, the canopy so thick that you can hardly see the ground beneath your feet.
It’s impossible to tell which part of the forest you’re in. Every direction looks the same. You try to get your bearings, but something howls in the distance, turning your blood to ice.
Before you know what you’re doing, you run. Loud, galloping footsteps follow, growing louder as your heart pounds in your chest. A snarl echoes against the trunks of trees. There could be more than one creature, but you don’t dare a glance over your shoulder to find out.
Scrambling over a fallen oak, a paved path of pearly white stone appears to break between the trees ahead. A figure is standing there and you shout. When they turn, you see that it’s Levi.
He extends his hand and relief washes over you. If whatever is following you is some creature, there isn’t anyone better to take it down. When you reach him, he takes your hand in his.
“Hurry,” he says. “You’re going to be late.”
The footsteps behind you have stopped, but now Levi’s leading you down the stone pathway in a sprint.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
He doesn’t answer.
“Levi?”
“Hurry up,” he growls. “He’s waiting.”
You frown. Who is waiting?
In the distance, the pathway opens up until you see the end. Two people stand on the stone edge, waiting.
Your stomach lurches as you realize one of them is Zeke. The other is your father.
It’s an altar.
You fight to pull your hand from Levi’s, but he doesn’t let go.
“What are you doing?” All of your strength isn’t enough to get away. Panic sets in as you get closer.
“You would never make it out here,” Levi says. Behind him, in the tree line, a small doe emerges from the forest, watching. “Stupid, spoiled brat. You never were good enough for me.”
He forces you to Zeke’s side despite your protests. Two strong hands bind your wrists, then you’re looking from another angle, watching as Levi and Petra stand before one another, their hands clasped as your father stands before them. You watch in stunned silence as they embrace one another, sharing a kiss as husband and wife.
You bolt upright with a gasp, hands trembling as you rub away the sensation of tight fingers from your wrists.
The familiar outline of Levi’s room slowly comes into focus in the dark, and you breathe a shaky sigh.
It was just another bad dream.
You take a moment to ground yourself, curling your shaky fingers around the blanket pooled in your lap and looking around the room. It’s still late. There’s one candle still lit, the flame just barely casting a glow bright enough to see much of anything beyond the edge of the bed. Only hot coals remain in the hearth nearby.
The room is cold enough to produce goosebumps over your arms and shoulders. You frown as the sensation prickles over your skin, making you shiver.
You shake your head, willing your thoughts to return to the present and not on how that dream made the pit of your stomach coil like some angry, provoked beast. It’s cold. That would explain why you’re having strange dreams about Levi and Petra of all people. At least it beats the usual ones you’ve been having lately of being eaten, you suppose.
As you wait for your heart rate to return to normal, you give up on the prospect of falling back to sleep and wrap the blanket around yourself. With the waning candle in one hand, you drag your heavy limbs to the sofa in front of the fireplace. It takes a few tries with the kindling that Oluo had chopped for you that morning, but eventually, you get another fire going.
Without really thinking about it, you step over to your bag to grab a book to pass the time. The day before, Petra had indulged your interest in her garden and offered to let you read some of her father’s journals on medicinal plants. At the very least, reading them would keep your mind from wandering until sunrise.
You reach into your bag and feel around for a spine, but a dim glow from inside piques your curiosity instead.
The necklace Zeke had gifted you seems to have somehow grown more radiant since you last looked at it over a week ago with Levi on the mountain. You pull it out, holding it from a distance with two fingers. Each amber crystal swirls with its own internal light and you get the unusual urge to put it on.
The sudden sound of the door opening behind you nearly causes you to drop it.
Levi is standing in the doorway. His clothes are ripped and torn in places and his skin appears unnaturally pale and clammy.
“Levi,” you greet, your surprise of his return heavy in your tone. “You’re back.”
For a moment, Levi just watches you, taking in the violet half-moons under your eyes and the subtle slump of your shoulders.
“It’s late,” he replies, shifting his attention to the kitchen. “What are you doing awake?”
Exhaustion burns behind your eyes, but you keep your expression mild. “Just reading.”
There’s a noticeable limp in the way that Levi walks into the kitchen, and when he makes it into the light, you see the crimson stain of blood on the front of his tunic.
Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re on your feet, abandoning the necklace and your bag on the table. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ve had worse,” he says. “Would you like some tea?”
You watch from a short distance as he retrieves two mugs from the cupboard and a small pot of tea leaves. There’s tension in his shoulders, and a stiffness in his movements in general as he moves that prompts you forward.
“Let me,” you say gently. “I’m not sure you should be standing.”
You reach for the small pot of tea leaves in Levi’s hand, fitting your fingers between the gaps of his own, but he doesn’t let go. When you attempt to tug it out of his grip, he scowls.
“I’m fine.”
Neither of you yield your hold on the small pot.
You’ve only been this close to him once in recent memory—after the mimic attack—but you hadn’t been looking into his eyes then. They’re a stormy blue, the shade of slate-grey familiar in a way that makes you pause and think of the last time you both held eye contact this long.
It brings back the fresh memory of the dream you had, and the subsequent shame you feel almost makes you pull away.
“Please sit down,” you murmur.
You half expect him to resist again, but he doesn’t. With a sneer, Levi finally lets go.
“Fine.” He goes to the nearest chair a few steps away and sinks into it with a heavy sigh. “Just don’t burn it.”
You grin but it’s hidden with your back to him, much like the subtle flush of your cheeks. “I know how to make tea, Levi.”
He mumbles something unintelligible, but you set your focus on heating the water and pouring enough leaves into the porcelain teapot for the both of you. The feeling of Levi’s gaze as you move about is ever-present, but you must brew tea to his liking, because he stays silent until you’re finished.
When you have two cups poured, you carry them to the small table where he’s sitting.
“So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been?” you ask, taking the seat opposite him.
Levi’s hands close around the cup you place in front of him, but he doesn’t immediately move to drink it, choosing instead to stare into the steam gently swirling up from the surface. “I’ve been tracking the soldiers that Oluo saw near Greenhaven.”
Your hand pauses with your own cup halfway to your lips. With everything else going on, you forgot Petra had mentioned them. “Did you find them?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever they wanted, it seems it didn’t have anything to do with you.”
He finally takes a cautious sip and you wait as he appears to let it settle on his tongue before swallowing.
“How is it?”
His head tilts slightly, clearly thinking about it. “Not bad.”
Something about his attempt to choose his words carefully makes you want to laugh, but you get the feeling that it would likely strike a nerve. Still, it doesn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. “You’re a horrible liar.”
“I didn’t say it was great,” he points out.
“In my defense, I don’t usually make it for myself.”
“It shows.”
A brief, but not entirely awkward, silence stretches between the next two sips you take. Exhaustion continues to cling to your eyelids, and your body is starting to feel weighed down and sluggish. It seems the lack of sound sleep is beginning to take its toll.
Levi idly looks around the room. His eyes spot the preternatural glow of the necklace from the other table, the rumpled blanket, and the crackling fire in the hearth, now a bit smaller than when he first walked in.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re awake?”
The question itself is benign, but there’s a sincere earnestness in Levi’s eyes that takes you off guard. It’s the first time since you met him in Jaskin City that he’s asked in his own roundabout way how you’re feeling.
Does this mean that he actually cares, or is this going to be like the other times where you act too familiar and he backs off? But then, you doubt he would have bothered to ask if he didn’t want to know.
You open your mouth, but for several long seconds nothing comes out.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” you finally confess. “Sorry, I know that sounds silly when you’re sitting across from me covered in blood, but…” You trail off slightly, feeling a knot forming in your throat. Embarrassment floods your eyes, making them burn, so you close them and try to breathe. “It’s just been really difficult to adjust to all of this.”
Across from you, Levi’s expression stays fixed in a look of mild contemplation. You used to be able to read his microexpressions with ease, but now you can’t discern what he’s thinking. You think again of your dream. Maybe you really wouldn’t make it out here, in the real world.
“It isn’t silly.” Finally, Levi breaks the silence, briefly casting his gaze down to his tea. “Honestly, after the week we’ve had, you’re doing better than I expected.”
So, he does trust that you’re ignorant to most of the things you’ve encountered at least. As for the rest of it, you don’t know.
You want to bring it up again. You want to remind him that it wasn’t you who told your father about his identity, just to see if he’ll acknowledge it in some way. Forgive you, shout at you. Anything but ignore it. Just to know where you stand.
But ignoring it is an answer on its own in a way. By not acknowledging it, he gets to keep you at a distance. Maybe that’s what he’s been subtly trying to communicate this whole time. Surface level stuff is fine. Objective truths—the weather, what needs to be done in order to meet both of your goals. You’d need basic levels of camaraderie in order to see it through, but nothing deeper than that.
You suppose after all this time, maybe you owe it to him to just let it rest. If that’s what he wants.
“I didn’t know,” you say, feeling more comfortable to speak freely now that you know he isn’t judging you. “About magic, about you, about those…creatures.” Absently, your hand goes to cover your other one that’s still healing and Levi’s gaze follows the movement.
Despite his grisly condition, he looks slightly amused. “I still can’t believe you punched it.”
You chuckle, but the sound lacks warmth. “Yeah, well. I doubt he felt it much.”
“It was a female, actually.”
You watch him for a moment, expecting a laugh or for him to tell you he’s joking, but he doesn’t. “How do you know?”
“The males are much larger,” he says without a hint of humor. “I’m assuming you got too close to a den.”
All you can do is blink. It was terrifying enough to face one, much less to consider that mimics have sexual characteristics and breed. And the males were larger?
The thought alone makes you want to shiver, but you breathe out a shaky sigh instead. “Just got lucky, I guess.”
“My point, Tori, is that you’ve experienced a lot this week. And it’s scary, going into something blind like you’re doing, but you’re making the choice yourself. As long as you’re happy with that, don’t let anything stop you.” He finishes the last of his tea, then gestures to your own. “Drink all of it. It’ll help you sleep. I’m going to clean up.” He gestures to himself.
He gets to his feet and retreats into the bathroom. Still at the table, you look down into your almost empty cup.
So, that’s why you feel so tired all of a sudden. Tired enough to actually sleep. He had taken one look at you and knew just what you needed. That’s thoughtful.
The realization hits you like a tidal wave, and you’re filled with a mixture of gratitude and wistfulness.
Tori. He hasn’t called you that since you were kids.
***
You don’t wake until the early afternoon. Levi is already gone when you come to. The bed has been made and his boots and bags are gone. If it wasn’t for the mug left in the sink, you’d wonder if the night before had been some bizarre extension of your dreams.
You feel lighter as you get ready for the day, refreshed despite sleeping on the cramped sofa. Even though he had told you to take it initially, you figured it was only fair to give Levi his bed back since he was injured, and he apparently hadn’t protested. Or maybe he just didn’t want to wake you when he returned to find you already asleep in front of the fire.
Petra is already out in the garden when you find her a little while later.
It’s a bright and sunny day, so you had opted for one of your simpler dresses and pulled your hair back into a plain braid when getting ready. It would make it easier for picking plants.
“Morning, Iz!” Petra waves. She’s standing in front of an overgrown bed of white flowers, a pair of gloves already on her hands resting on her hips.
You smile in greeting. You’re getting better at acknowledging the fake name you gave her.
“Morning, Petra,” you say. “I thought you weren’t working for Oblation Day?”
She shrugs. “Normally I wouldn’t, but if I put this off, these will overmature.” She gestures to the white flowers, with their blooms no bigger than the palm of your hand.
You recall seeing them in one of the journals she had given you, on a section that her father had dedicated to wound care.
“Yarrow?” you guess, to which Petra smiles. “It’s used to stop bleeding right?”
Grabbing a wide wicker basket waiting on the ground nearby, she stoops slightly to trim a few of the stems. “You’re right! I had to send my stores of a more concentrated mix to Silver Creek a few weeks ago, so I’ll dry these and grind them into powder tomorrow.”
Feeling rather useless, you offer to hold the basket as she keeps plucking the stems.
It’s fascinating to learn about what sorts of plants Petra grows. Most of them are medicinal in nature, helping to cure colds and fevers and dull pain. It’s a science you had never been exposed to in the past, but you’re learning to accept that it was by design.
“You never know when you’re going to need it,” she continues, “so I like to keep ample stock on hand for emergencies. Oh,” she gestures down several rows to a section of large pink and red roses, “we’ll also need more of those for the kinship feast tonight.”
“Kinship feast?”
Petra plucks another bundle and stands up. “Yeah, Levi didn’t tell you?”
Your fingers tighten around the basket’s handle. Is this something that the real Isabel would already know about?
You quickly try to think of a neutral response, but Petra just shakes her head.
“Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.” Dropping the last of the stems into the basket, she leads the way down to the other side of the garden. “It’s the big celebration that we hold each year for Oblation Day in the town square. There’s music and food and drinks.”
You perk up.
“That sounds like fun.”
Petra turns to you. “You should come. I think you’d like it.”
She starts plucking at a bush of large yellow roses. Beside her, you have to temper your interest. As fun as it sounds to eat and dance, to belong, you doubt it would be safe. Trouble seems to follow wherever you go.
“What do you do with these?” you ask, stopping your thoughts in their tracks.
“Oh, these are sold at the feast.” She smiles. “It’s become a bit of a tradition after dinner for people to give one another flowers. Yellow is for friendship,” she gestures to the bloom in her hand before dropping it into the basket, “Pink is given to initiate a romantic courtship, and red is for professing love.”
You follow along as she moves around the bush, gathering clippings into her arms. Has she ever been given a rose? Surely, she has. Petra’s pretty and smart, and if the amount of people coming in and out seeking help for their ailments can vouch for anything, she’s also important to her community. To torture you further, your mind conjures images of Levi approaching her with a large bundle of red and pink roses. A full bouquet.
The feeling of something grazing your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you snap to attention to see Petra reaching toward you. When you meet her eyes, she pulls away, leaving a small rose bud tucked into your hair.
She grins, gesturing to a yellow flower she’s carefully tucked behind her ear. “There. We match now.”
“What are you two doing?”
You nearly startle at the sound of Levi’s voice on the other side of the bush.
He looks considerably healthier than the night before. Some color has come back to his skin and all of the blood and dirt has been washed away. There’s a small cut above his left eyebrow that you hadn’t noticed the night before, but it isn’t deep enough to be concerning.
“It’s called having fun, Levi,” Petra says. “You should give it a try sometime. Look, isn’t she cute?”
With his arms crossed over his chest, Levi’s focus shifts to the flower in your hair, then meets your gaze with total indifference. It makes you want to sink straight down into the earth under your feet.
“You're both going to get bugs in your hair,” he replies, ignoring her question entirely. “Everything’s ready in the square. Oluo is loading the rest of the supplies into the carriage now.”
“Oh, perfect.” With a renewed purpose, Petra pulls the basket of flowers from your arms. “I’ll get these sorted then so we can get going. We’ll see you both there.”
With another wave, she disappears inside.
For whatever reason, her departure leaves behind a heavy silence. Levi stares at you for a moment, and under his scrutiny, you awkwardly pull the flower from your hair.
“I found a ship that’ll take us to Plomaria,” he says after a moment.
“Really? When?”
“In three days, they’re sailing a shipment of goods into the capital. It would put us right where we need to be.”
You absently twirl the stem between your fingers. “Three days,” you repeat, nodding. “Okay.”
Even though you knew this was coming, it’s still difficult to wrap your head around. In three days, you’d leave Orenfeld and likely never come back. You’d leave Levi and Petra and Oluo. Theo and your parents. Zeke.
Were you making the right choice? Did you really want to be free of them forever?
“Did you want to go?”
You look at Levi for a moment, confused. “Well, that’s what we’re here for,” you say slowly. “I agreed to help you.”
“I meant the feast tonight. For Oblation Day.” He sighs like he already regrets asking. “Probably the last bit of fun you’ll have for a while.”
Oh. Well, when he puts it that way, maybe you should.
You smile. “It sounds fun.”
“Then let’s get going.” Unfolding his arms, he turns. “It starts at sundown.”
***
It’s not like any other feast you’ve ever attended.
At the most ambitious, you had anticipated a large group of people somehow gathered together in the main square, but the reality exceeded every expectation.
Dozens of shops and merchant stalls lined the winding main street, shouting out to onlookers and potential buyers in hopes of a sale. There are flower merchants selling bouquets, jewelry-makers, bakers displaying fragrant fruit pies and breads crusted to golden perfection, tailors and cloth traders, butcher shops. Everything you could have ever imagined and more.
You take it all in slowly, standing under an awning in the main square where a troupe of eight artists perform to music nearby for a crowd. They ring bells and dance in step with one another, fluid and graceful as they twist and turn and flip. The crowd oohs and aahs. A few vendors nearby call their thanks to patrons: May her light guide you!
Beside you, Levi watches the crowd. He hasn’t said much other than to clarify what things are when your curiosity has prompted questions. But mostly, he’s just watched like a sentinel on guard.
Once the performing troupe has dispersed, the crowd clears slightly. Music begins again and people begin to pair off in the street, creating an improvised dance space. Among them, you find Petra and Oluo, swaying and laughing together to the music.
Wordlessly, Levi begins walking.
“Wait,” you say, catching up to him. “Did you not want to stay?”
He glances at you. “I thought you might want to take a look around.”
“Well, I do but I’d like to see everyone dance for a bit too.” You fall into step with him. A question builds on your tongue, but you think you already know the answer to it. “Do you not want to dance?”
He scoffs. “I don’t dance.”
So maybe you do still know him a little bit. “You don’t dance, or you don’t know how to?”
“Does it matter?”
“Have you ever tried?”
He gives you an impatient look. “I don’t dance.”
“Fine, spoil sport.” Still, not wanting to dance doesn’t completely explain why he’s been so quiet and tense since you first got to the square. You think back to when he first started to walk away and make a guess. “Is it because of Petra and Oluo?”
His brows furrow. “What? No.”
“Then why are you rushing about with your shoulders up to your ears?” you ask, at a loss. “This is supposed to be a relaxing night of fun and you’re walking around like you’re being hunted.”
Levi’s quiet for several paces down the busy street. It’s hard to see his face in the soft light, but from what you can see, his brows are drawn together and his mouth is pulled into a deep frown.
“I don’t like crowds.”
He says it so quietly that you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the music.
For a moment, you don’t know what to say. After seeing him fight five men at once (and win), traverse a mountain like it was a brisk walk, and then take down a creature you wouldn't have been able to think up in your nightmares if you hadn’t seen it in the flesh, a fear of crowds seemed like the least likely thing he’d have. Petra’s words echo through your mind: Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.
But you remember what he did for you when you admitted you were having nightmares. He listened and had a solution already in place.
You look around where you’ve temporarily stopped. There are people everywhere, lined up and down the street on both sides. The way that a peal of laughter bounces off of the opposite buildings makes you look up, and you find a balcony on the second floor of what looks to be a tavern across the street. It’s mostly empty.
You point. “What about up there then?”
Levi follows your line of sight. There’s still a frown on his face when he sees it, but something like relief settles into his posture.
“Better than being down here.”
You set off down the street together, slipping through the crowd until you come to the road. A carriage passes by, and you stop next to a large statue carved from bronze. At first, you think nothing of it, but more than anything, the name etched into the placard on the stone it’s raised on makes you do a double take.
[Kenny Ackerman]
[30th Lord of Fendon]
It feels like you read those words a dozen times and it still doesn’t quite feel right. He’s standing with his gaze to the harbor, his stance proud and shoulders back. This was the man who tried to kill your father?
You realize about a half-second too late that Levi is already halfway across the road and you rush to catch up, trying to push the monument out of your mind.
The walk into the tavern and up the stairs feels like a blur. The night air becomes warm and thick with tobacco smoke and the smell of ale, then you're back out in the cool breeze again. Somehow, even though it’s just one floor, it feels quieter.
Levi’s standing with his elbows over the railing, watching people pass across the street. The tension in his shoulders seems to have lifted a bit, but he isn’t totally relaxed. He must have seen your interest in the statue.
You join him but keep your gaze on the people below. You incline your head toward them. “Do they know?”
He shakes his head, already clued into your thoughts. “You’re the only one here who knows. To everyone else, I’m just Levi.”
You turn to him then and find that he’s already looking at you, waiting. You offer him a smile. “Well, I guess we have that in common now.”
To your surprise, he mirrors it. Barely, but it’s there and that’s enough. You have more questions, but they can wait.
Behind you, the door opens.
“Would you like a drink, miss?”
A barman smiles and extends a large round tray of ale your way. When you both decline, he nods his head. “May her light guide you both.”
The door swivels closed behind him once again, leaving the phrase hanging in the silence that follows. You’ve heard it said so many times tonight, but for some reason it finally registers as one you’ve never heard.
“What does that mean, ‘may her light guide you’?” you ask, “I’ve heard it everywhere tonight.”
Levi’s focus is out on the horizon. For a moment, you think he hasn’t heard you, too busy lost in his own thoughts.
“They’re referencing the goddess of abundance and good fortune,” he eventually says.
“The old gods?” You tilt your head. “I didn’t know they were worshiped anymore.”
“They are here.” Levi nods. “Some of them rule the laws of magic, some rule natural law. This festival is practiced to give thanks for a good harvest.” His gaze flicks to you then, softer than before. “And it serves as a reminder to nurture new beginnings.”
You pause, not anticipating the olive branch he suddenly seems to be extending to you. It isn’t clear if he’s insinuating he trusts you, but at the very least it sounds as though he’s willing to try.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly.” You turn to him after a moment. “Whether or not you decide you can ever trust me again, I do appreciate your help. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
Levi listens as he watches the crowd ebb and flow on the street below. “No, you wouldn’t.”
His response makes you think of when you were children all those years ago, of the day when you argued beneath your favorite oak tree over how long you’d survive alone on an adventure. The day he told you about his family. The day you asked him to kiss you.
Levi’s mouth curls into a small smile, as if he’s remembering that day too.
“I think this calls for a celebration,” you tell him. “Have a drink with me.” His smile vanishes, but you quickly hold up a finger. “Just one. My treat. You can stay here out of the crowd and I’ll get it.”
He looks at you for a moment, clearly conflicted, but he finally sighs. “Fine. We’ll have one. But hurry. We’re going back to the farm after this. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”
Before he changes his mind, you leave him to hurry downstairs to the bar. You weave carefully through the crowd, sticking to the perimeter in an effort to not draw undue attention to yourself.
It seems almost pointless at this rate. Not a single person has identified you all night and it feels like the entire town is in the square.
You order and pay for two ales once you reach the bar but before you can retrieve them, a soft voice murmurs in your ear through the low hum of conversation.
general cw: levi ackerman x fem!reader, fantasy au, royalty au, friends to enemies to lovers, reader has a default name
chapter cw: none
word count: 7648
Soft voices murmur over the sound of silverware on porcelain when Theo walks into the dining hall.
Mud is caked onto his boots from the journey from Desovik to the manor. Round droplets of water still cling to his hair from the rain that started up an hour ago. Normally, he’d head straight for his chambers to freshen up before dinner, but a steady pulse of indignation keeps him marching forward.
At the head of the long table, the king and queen sit in their usual seats. There’s an empty spot next to Theo’s mother, while Zeke sits immediately to the king’s right. He doesn’t look over as Theo approaches, still talking as he cuts into a serving of roasted chicken.
Theo doesn’t sit.
Instead, he walks to the head of the table, standing at the junction between where the king and Zeke sit. When he stops, everyone turns.
“Theo.” The king’s eyes travel slowly over his appearance with a mild expression, then follow the line of dirt tracked into the room behind him. “You’ve hardly missed dinner. Perhaps you’d like to clean yourself up and join us.”
“I would be glad to,” Theo nods, keeping his fists clenched at his sides, “but first, I’d like to give you an update on Victoria.”
Beside his father, the queen sits up a bit straighter and rests her fork on her plate.
“Oh, there’s no need,” the king says, waving his hand. “Zeke was just telling me that his men have given him a full report. I know they’re climbing Mount Stygia.”
“It’s possible they’ve made it to the other side by now,” Theo says. “There are several towns and villages in the valley that they could run to. There’s no telling where they’ve gone, and it will take my men over a week to go around.”
“Actually,” Zeke cuts in, “I suspect they’re on their way to Fendon.”
Theo’s head snaps to the other man. “What evidence do you have of that?”
Adjusting his glasses, Zeke returns his attention to the king. “Are you certain Victoria and Levi Ackerman weren’t in communication before she left?”
He’s given a quick nod.
“Yes. She wasn’t allowed to send or receive mail from anyone outside of our immediate family.”
Zeke seems to consider his answer. “Yes, well she also wasn’t allowed to leave the manor.” His gaze returns to Theo. “I find it strange that a girl such as herself was able to easily escape twice under the nose of Orenfeld’s newest sergeant major. My general told me that you interfered with their pursuit.”
“Yes, I’m glad you brought that up.” Theo takes a step forward, and if he didn’t know any better, he would think Zeke was sizing him up. It takes all of the effort in the world to not rip him up from his seat. “Would you care to explain why your men shot at my sister?”
It’s almost imperceptible, but a brief look of surprise flashes over Zeke’s features before it shifts to concern. If the news is not actually a shock to him, he does a convincing job of making it seem like one.
After a moment, he moves the linen cloth from his lap to the table and gets to his feet.
“I can assure you that I did not give that order,” he says, his mouth pressed into a thin frown. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and take care of this matter immediately.” Tentatively, he regards the king and queen before continuing. “I care very deeply for your daughter and only wish to see her returned unharmed. Anyone found in my ranks with ill intent will be sent back to Sondaria for trial.”
With a short bow, he makes for the doors to the encampment outside, leaving Theo with the king and queen. Two staff members appear from the adjoining kitchen to take plates and clear out the mud he’d tracked in.
“I’m sorry for interrupting dinner,” he begins, but the king raises his hand to stop him.
“Go and get cleaned up,” he says, gesturing wordlessly for the staff to take Zeke’s plate. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll get your report.” His gaze lingers for a moment on his son. “Thank you, Theo.”
With a nod, he exits out the main doors leading to the grand staircase.
His hands remain in tight fists until he makes it to his bedchamber on the second floor. After a weary thank you to the guard posted outside that opens the door for him, he allows his shoulders to sag once he’s alone.
All this time, he’s been adamant that this arrangement was beneficial for everyone involved. You, restless as you were, would get out of the tight clutches of your overprotective parents. Orenfeld would see victory over the south. A new alliance would form between Sondaria and Orenfeld.
He wasn’t exactly overjoyed when he first met Zeke, but the man had seemed pleasant enough in conversation. He was ambitious and quick-witted, bold when others were reluctant to speak their mind. He had considered Zeke a good match for you—someone strong. Someone who could rule.
But seeing you with him on the evening of the feast, how you had seemed so stiff and reluctant to take Zeke’s hand for a dance. The way he seemed to handle you like a possession. It was that night when Theo began to see the dangerous pride that dwelled underneath.
It would have been easy to wipe that breezy, confident smirk off of Zeke’s face, but he needs to control himself. One lapse in judgment and not only would Sondaria back out of their agreement, but he’d have his father to answer to.
Theo walks into the bathroom adjacent to his quarters, stripping off the layers of armor along the way. When he’s left to wait for water to fill the tub, he leans against the wash basin to look at his reflection.
There is something in Zeke’s reaction that doesn’t sit right in his mind. And why had he avoided answering why he thought Victoria was heading to Fendon?
He thinks again of the memory of arrows flying through the air, headed straight to your retreating back before something diverted them off course. For a moment, he thought his fear and anger had manifested another power within him, but he hadn’t felt the distinct stir of magic coursing through his body in that moment like he has so many times before. Whatever it was—whoever it was—had saved your life that day. If they hadn’t…
A dull crunch breaks him out of his thoughts, and he looks down to see that the basin has cracked in several places, starting where his hands were clenched around the edge before blooming outward like roots in the stone.
***
Five days pass without a single stone out of place around the perimeter of Fendon. All of the surrounding villages–Greenhaven, Barrowford, Glundhill, Silver Creek–are quiet. There have been no reports of anything amiss or unfamiliar travelers passing through.
That reassurance should put Levi at ease. Why then, does it feel like he’s missing something? Like whatever is amiss is staring him in the face.
He’s felt that a lot over the last two weeks. It’s as if something has shifted by degrees, slowly, ever since that night in Jaskin City.
It’s part of why he volunteered to look into the reports of soldiers spotted near the outskirts of town. A return to normalcy would usually help to restore some balance, but after the three days traveling across the gently sloped hills and valleys of West Orenfeld, he felt more unnerved than ever.
Not seeing Orenfeldian soldiers was usually a good thing, but now…
Unbidden, you slip into the forefront of Levi’s mind, and he sighs. A strange sensation accompanies it, low in his stomach, much like it has every moment he’s thought of you in the last three days and in reflex, he draws the hand not guiding Jasper’s reins to his brow. His head swims and pounds with the movement.
“Not even around and she’s still a nuisance,” Levi mutters to himself.
And yet, even as he says it, he knows the words don’t quite ring true. Not like they used to, at least.
He brings his hand back down to his side where a dark red stain has bloomed through his tunic and soaked into the hem of his trousers. It’s more important right now that he focuses on getting back to the farm before bleeding to death.
He crosses through the low stone wall that trails along the entrance of town, passing the decorated square.
When he first arrived back in Orenfeld, Fendon was the first place he visited. It had a rougher reputation back then. A haven for vagrants and other people deemed too unsavory for polite society. Access to the port drew all kinds of attention for people wanting an easy escape route. The harbormasters were known for turning a blind eye for a bit of coin.
He met Petra and Oluo in his first three months back. After being bitten by a venomous manderi, he had wound up at Dr. Ral’s front door. He had healed him and given him a room out of the cold.
Sometimes it felt as if destiny had manipulated the string of his fate. He ended up spending most of his time in the hardy coastal town, and Fendon became more like a home to him than anywhere else.
Now the main square glitters like a jewel in the receding halo of the sun. Enchanted lanterns filled with sun stones illuminate the marketplace, casting empty stalls in shadow as Jasper trots down the lane.
Thankfully, he doesn’t need to be reminded how to get home. It takes all of Levi’s remaining strength just to hang on as the familiar outline of the farm crests the horizon.
When he arrives, he thanks any deity that will listen that Petra is still awake.
As Levi waits with his weight bolstered against the kitchen table, she emerges from another room. The collection of things in her hands isn’t unfamiliar, but Levi always dreads the part that follows.
“So, what got you this time?” she asks as she comes to stand on his left.
With a bit of effort, Levi slowly lifts the hem of his shirt, revealing a long, bleeding gash on his torso. It’s too shallow to be a mortal wound, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of it.
“I don’t actually know,” he says. Without warning, she presses a cloth to the wound, now soaked in alcohol, and he winces. “Owen caught me on the way back into town and said something had been killing his goats. Thought it was just going to be another fiend, but the damn thing had claws the size of my arm.”
Blood mixes with the astringent smell of alcohol in the air, and Levi looks down to see the cloth pressed to his skin has now taken on a deep crimson color. After a few passes, his skin comes away clean.
“There are new creatures showing up every week.” Petra sighs, her brows furrowed in concentration as she shifts to thread a needle. “Kathrin had a den golem show up in her house yesterday. At least they’re helpful around the house but—oh, sorry!”
She falls silent after he hisses in pain, redirecting all of her focus into stitching his side.
A comfortable silence settles in between them for a few minutes, then Levi asks, “How has everything been going?”
Petra’s silent long enough to finish threading the suture through his skin. “Slower than expected,” she finally says, knowing exactly what he’s asking. “But I don’t think it’s an issue of learning. She seems… distracted.”
Levi hums. He’s seen it too. The way you would twitch and whimper in your sleep by the fire. How the smile you always put on never quite meets your eyes.
He had hoped that giving you an actual bed to sleep in would help with the nightmares. Maybe then you could focus, but it seemed there was more to it than a lack of sleep.
“How are the preparations coming for the feast?” Petra asks, changing the subject. The little wrinkle between her brows that forms when she’s worried begins to deepen.
“I’ll be helping tomorrow with a few final things,” he says, and he watches as her shoulders visibly relax. “Whatever those soldiers wanted, they seem to have moved on, so everything should go as planned.”
With a nod, Petra turns back.
“She asks about you a lot, you know?” she suddenly says, tilting her head. A tinge of gentleness seeps through her words that reveals there's something on her mind. Whatever it is makes her lip curl up into a half-smile. “Wonders where you are and when you’re coming back.”
There’s something about knowing that you ask about him that makes him feel a little guilty. Truthfully, he could have been around more, but the three nights alone has helped to clear his head.
“It's funny,” Petra continues thoughtfully. “She doesn’t act like a tavern girl. You should see her try to peel potatoes. You’d think she’s never worked in a kitchen a day in her life.”
The deliberate choice of words has him turning to look at her, and she meets Levi’s gaze with a pointed look.
Petra raises her brows. “Could that be because she’s not who she says she is?”
His first instinct is to deny it, but Levi knows she wouldn’t have brought it up if she wasn’t already confident she was right. Instead Levi sets his jaw and his mouth forms into a thin line. It sets Petra into a fit of laughter.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who she actually is, are you?” she asks when she’s finally calmed down.
He sighs, at a complete loss for what to say. Telling her the truth was too much of a risk, and he’s not even sure she’d believe him if he tried. After a beat, he finally settles on, “It’s complicated.”
“That’s fine.” She waves her hand dismissively, still grinning. “I figure if you’re hiding it from me, you’ve got a good reason.”
That would be putting it lightly. Petra could be many things, but she wasn’t stupid. Or malicious. While you’re safe here, he knows she wouldn’t be pleased to know that he was harboring the princess of Orenfeld under her roof. And that’s not even to mention if soldiers get an idea that you’re here. It’s safer for everyone if she doesn’t know.
He’ll consider admitting it when you’re long gone. But until then, he could at least divulge one thing. Something that’s been bothering him since that night in Desovik.
He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then tries again. “She said a doe led her into Jaskin City.” Beside him, Petra’s movements pause. “That’s where I found her. I think a silvern led her to me.”
Petra gives him a long, thoughtful look. “Well, isn’t that good news?”
He shrugs. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Well, un-complicate it.” Like the issue is resolved, she gathers the leftover items and heads back for the door. “I know you like to pretend like you haven’t got a heart in there, but it wouldn’t kill you to open up a little. Invite her to the festival tomorrow. She could use a break, I think.” She pauses for a moment, considering her words before adding, “you both could,” and slips out of the room.
***
You’re in the Mordonian forest again.
It’s dark. All around you are trees, the canopy so thick that you can hardly see the ground beneath your feet.
It’s impossible to tell which part of the forest you’re in. Every direction looks the same. You try to get your bearings, but something howls in the distance, turning your blood to ice.
Before you know what you’re doing, you run. Loud, galloping footsteps follow, growing louder as your heart pounds in your chest. A snarl echoes against the trunks of trees. There could be more than one creature, but you don’t dare a glance over your shoulder to find out.
Scrambling over a fallen oak, a paved path of pearly white stone appears to break between the trees ahead. A figure is standing there and you shout. When they turn, you see that it’s Levi.
He extends his hand and relief washes over you. If whatever is following you is some creature, there isn’t anyone better to take it down. When you reach him, he takes your hand in his.
“Hurry,” he says. “You’re going to be late.”
The footsteps behind you have stopped, but now Levi’s leading you down the stone pathway in a sprint.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
He doesn’t answer.
“Levi?”
“Hurry up,” he growls. “He’s waiting.”
You frown. Who is waiting?
In the distance, the pathway opens up until you see the end. Two people stand on the stone edge, waiting.
Your stomach lurches as you realize one of them is Zeke. The other is your father.
It’s an altar.
You fight to pull your hand from Levi’s, but he doesn’t let go.
“What are you doing?” All of your strength isn’t enough to get away. Panic sets in as you get closer.
“You would never make it out here,” Levi says. Behind him, in the tree line, a small doe emerges from the forest, watching. “Stupid, spoiled brat. You never were good enough for me.”
He forces you to Zeke’s side despite your protests. Two strong hands bind your wrists, then you’re looking from another angle, watching as Levi and Petra stand before one another, their hands clasped as your father stands before them. You watch in stunned silence as they embrace one another, sharing a kiss as husband and wife.
You bolt upright with a gasp, hands trembling as you rub away the sensation of tight fingers from your wrists.
The familiar outline of Levi’s room slowly comes into focus in the dark, and you breathe a shaky sigh.
It was just another bad dream.
You take a moment to ground yourself, curling your shaky fingers around the blanket pooled in your lap and looking around the room. It’s still late. There’s one candle still lit, the flame just barely casting a glow bright enough to see much of anything beyond the edge of the bed. Only hot coals remain in the hearth nearby.
The room is cold enough to produce goosebumps over your arms and shoulders. You frown as the sensation prickles over your skin, making you shiver.
You shake your head, willing your thoughts to return to the present and not on how that dream made the pit of your stomach coil like some angry, provoked beast. It’s cold. That would explain why you’re having strange dreams about Levi and Petra of all people. At least it beats the usual ones you’ve been having lately of being eaten, you suppose.
As you wait for your heart rate to return to normal, you give up on the prospect of falling back to sleep and wrap the blanket around yourself. With the waning candle in one hand, you drag your heavy limbs to the sofa in front of the fireplace. It takes a few tries with the kindling that Oluo had chopped for you that morning, but eventually, you get another fire going.
Without really thinking about it, you step over to your bag to grab a book to pass the time. The day before, Petra had indulged your interest in her garden and offered to let you read some of her father’s journals on medicinal plants. At the very least, reading them would keep your mind from wandering until sunrise.
You reach into your bag and feel around for a spine, but a dim glow from inside piques your curiosity instead.
The necklace Zeke had gifted you seems to have somehow grown more radiant since you last looked at it over a week ago with Levi on the mountain. You pull it out, holding it from a distance with two fingers. Each amber crystal swirls with its own internal light and you get the unusual urge to put it on.
The sudden sound of the door opening behind you nearly causes you to drop it.
Levi is standing in the doorway. His clothes are ripped and torn in places and his skin appears unnaturally pale and clammy.
“Levi,” you greet, your surprise of his return heavy in your tone. “You’re back.”
For a moment, Levi just watches you, taking in the violet half-moons under your eyes and the subtle slump of your shoulders.
“It’s late,” he replies, shifting his attention to the kitchen. “What are you doing awake?”
Exhaustion burns behind your eyes, but you keep your expression mild. “Just reading.”
There’s a noticeable limp in the way that Levi walks into the kitchen, and when he makes it into the light, you see the crimson stain of blood on the front of his tunic.
Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re on your feet, abandoning the necklace and your bag on the table. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ve had worse,” he says. “Would you like some tea?”
You watch from a short distance as he retrieves two mugs from the cupboard and a small pot of tea leaves. There’s tension in his shoulders, and a stiffness in his movements in general as he moves that prompts you forward.
“Let me,” you say gently. “I’m not sure you should be standing.”
You reach for the small pot of tea leaves in Levi’s hand, fitting your fingers between the gaps of his own, but he doesn’t let go. When you attempt to tug it out of his grip, he scowls.
“I’m fine.”
Neither of you yield your hold on the small pot.
You’ve only been this close to him once in recent memory—after the mimic attack—but you hadn’t been looking into his eyes then. They’re a stormy blue, the shade of slate-grey familiar in a way that makes you pause and think of the last time you both held eye contact this long.
It brings back the fresh memory of the dream you had, and the subsequent shame you feel almost makes you pull away.
“Please sit down,” you murmur.
You half expect him to resist again, but he doesn’t. With a sneer, Levi finally lets go.
“Fine.” He goes to the nearest chair a few steps away and sinks into it with a heavy sigh. “Just don’t burn it.”
You grin but it’s hidden with your back to him, much like the subtle flush of your cheeks. “I know how to make tea, Levi.”
He mumbles something unintelligible, but you set your focus on heating the water and pouring enough leaves into the porcelain teapot for the both of you. The feeling of Levi’s gaze as you move about is ever-present, but you must brew tea to his liking, because he stays silent until you’re finished.
When you have two cups poured, you carry them to the small table where he’s sitting.
“So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been?” you ask, taking the seat opposite him.
Levi’s hands close around the cup you place in front of him, but he doesn’t immediately move to drink it, choosing instead to stare into the steam gently swirling up from the surface. “I’ve been tracking the soldiers that Oluo saw near Greenhaven.”
Your hand pauses with your own cup halfway to your lips. With everything else going on, you forgot Petra had mentioned them. “Did you find them?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever they wanted, it seems it didn’t have anything to do with you.”
He finally takes a cautious sip and you wait as he appears to let it settle on his tongue before swallowing.
“How is it?”
His head tilts slightly, clearly thinking about it. “Not bad.”
Something about his attempt to choose his words carefully makes you want to laugh, but you get the feeling that it would likely strike a nerve. Still, it doesn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. “You’re a horrible liar.”
“I didn’t say it was great,” he points out.
“In my defense, I don’t usually make it for myself.”
“It shows.”
A brief, but not entirely awkward, silence stretches between the next two sips you take. Exhaustion continues to cling to your eyelids, and your body is starting to feel weighed down and sluggish. It seems the lack of sound sleep is beginning to take its toll.
Levi idly looks around the room. His eyes spot the preternatural glow of the necklace from the other table, the rumpled blanket, and the crackling fire in the hearth, now a bit smaller than when he first walked in.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re awake?”
The question itself is benign, but there’s a sincere earnestness in Levi’s eyes that takes you off guard. It’s the first time since you met him in Jaskin City that he’s asked in his own roundabout way how you’re feeling.
Does this mean that he actually cares, or is this going to be like the other times where you act too familiar and he backs off? But then, you doubt he would have bothered to ask if he didn’t want to know.
You open your mouth, but for several long seconds nothing comes out.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” you finally confess. “Sorry, I know that sounds silly when you’re sitting across from me covered in blood, but…” You trail off slightly, feeling a knot forming in your throat. Embarrassment floods your eyes, making them burn, so you close them and try to breathe. “It’s just been really difficult to adjust to all of this.”
Across from you, Levi’s expression stays fixed in a look of mild contemplation. You used to be able to read his microexpressions with ease, but now you can’t discern what he’s thinking. You think again of your dream. Maybe you really wouldn’t make it out here, in the real world.
“It isn’t silly.” Finally, Levi breaks the silence, briefly casting his gaze down to his tea. “Honestly, after the week we’ve had, you’re doing better than I expected.”
So, he does trust that you’re ignorant to most of the things you’ve encountered at least. As for the rest of it, you don’t know.
You want to bring it up again. You want to remind him that it wasn’t you who told your father about his identity, just to see if he’ll acknowledge it in some way. Forgive you, shout at you. Anything but ignore it. Just to know where you stand.
But ignoring it is an answer on its own in a way. By not acknowledging it, he gets to keep you at a distance. Maybe that’s what he’s been subtly trying to communicate this whole time. Surface level stuff is fine. Objective truths—the weather, what needs to be done in order to meet both of your goals. You’d need basic levels of camaraderie in order to see it through, but nothing deeper than that.
You suppose after all this time, maybe you owe it to him to just let it rest. If that’s what he wants.
“I didn’t know,” you say, feeling more comfortable to speak freely now that you know he isn’t judging you. “About magic, about you, about those…creatures.” Absently, your hand goes to cover your other one that’s still healing and Levi’s gaze follows the movement.
Despite his grisly condition, he looks slightly amused. “I still can’t believe you punched it.”
You chuckle, but the sound lacks warmth. “Yeah, well. I doubt he felt it much.”
“It was a female, actually.”
You watch him for a moment, expecting a laugh or for him to tell you he’s joking, but he doesn’t. “How do you know?”
“The males are much larger,” he says without a hint of humor. “I’m assuming you got too close to a den.”
All you can do is blink. It was terrifying enough to face one, much less to consider that mimics have sexual characteristics and breed. And the males were larger?
The thought alone makes you want to shiver, but you breathe out a shaky sigh instead. “Just got lucky, I guess.”
“My point, Tori, is that you’ve experienced a lot this week. And it’s scary, going into something blind like you’re doing, but you’re making the choice yourself. As long as you’re happy with that, don’t let anything stop you.” He finishes the last of his tea, then gestures to your own. “Drink all of it. It’ll help you sleep. I’m going to clean up.” He gestures to himself.
He gets to his feet and retreats into the bathroom. Still at the table, you look down into your almost empty cup.
So, that’s why you feel so tired all of a sudden. Tired enough to actually sleep. He had taken one look at you and knew just what you needed. That’s thoughtful.
The realization hits you like a tidal wave, and you’re filled with a mixture of gratitude and wistfulness.
Tori. He hasn’t called you that since you were kids.
***
You don’t wake until the early afternoon. Levi is already gone when you come to. The bed has been made and his boots and bags are gone. If it wasn’t for the mug left in the sink, you’d wonder if the night before had been some bizarre extension of your dreams.
You feel lighter as you get ready for the day, refreshed despite sleeping on the cramped sofa. Even though he had told you to take it initially, you figured it was only fair to give Levi his bed back since he was injured, and he apparently hadn’t protested. Or maybe he just didn’t want to wake you when he returned to find you already asleep in front of the fire.
Petra is already out in the garden when you find her a little while later.
It’s a bright and sunny day, so you had opted for one of your simpler dresses and pulled your hair back into a plain braid when getting ready. It would make it easier for picking plants.
“Morning, Iz!” Petra waves. She’s standing in front of an overgrown bed of white flowers, a pair of gloves already on her hands resting on her hips.
You smile in greeting. You’re getting better at acknowledging the fake name you gave her.
“Morning, Petra,” you say. “I thought you weren’t working for Oblation Day?”
She shrugs. “Normally I wouldn’t, but if I put this off, these will overmature.” She gestures to the white flowers, with their blooms no bigger than the palm of your hand.
You recall seeing them in one of the journals she had given you, on a section that her father had dedicated to wound care.
“Yarrow?” you guess, to which Petra smiles. “It’s used to stop bleeding right?”
Grabbing a wide wicker basket waiting on the ground nearby, she stoops slightly to trim a few of the stems. “You’re right! I had to send my stores of a more concentrated mix to Silver Creek a few weeks ago, so I’ll dry these and grind them into powder tomorrow.”
Feeling rather useless, you offer to hold the basket as she keeps plucking the stems.
It’s fascinating to learn about what sorts of plants Petra grows. Most of them are medicinal in nature, helping to cure colds and fevers and dull pain. It’s a science you had never been exposed to in the past, but you’re learning to accept that it was by design.
“You never know when you’re going to need it,” she continues, “so I like to keep ample stock on hand for emergencies. Oh,” she gestures down several rows to a section of large pink and red roses, “we’ll also need more of those for the kinship feast tonight.”
“Kinship feast?”
Petra plucks another bundle and stands up. “Yeah, Levi didn’t tell you?”
Your fingers tighten around the basket’s handle. Is this something that the real Isabel would already know about?
You quickly try to think of a neutral response, but Petra just shakes her head.
“Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.” Dropping the last of the stems into the basket, she leads the way down to the other side of the garden. “It’s the big celebration that we hold each year for Oblation Day in the town square. There’s music and food and drinks.”
You perk up.
“That sounds like fun.”
Petra turns to you. “You should come. I think you’d like it.”
She starts plucking at a bush of large yellow roses. Beside her, you have to temper your interest. As fun as it sounds to eat and dance, to belong, you doubt it would be safe. Trouble seems to follow wherever you go.
“What do you do with these?” you ask, stopping your thoughts in their tracks.
“Oh, these are sold at the feast.” She smiles. “It’s become a bit of a tradition after dinner for people to give one another flowers. Yellow is for friendship,” she gestures to the bloom in her hand before dropping it into the basket, “Pink is given to initiate a romantic courtship, and red is for professing love.”
You follow along as she moves around the bush, gathering clippings into her arms. Has she ever been given a rose? Surely, she has. Petra’s pretty and smart, and if the amount of people coming in and out seeking help for their ailments can vouch for anything, she’s also important to her community. To torture you further, your mind conjures images of Levi approaching her with a large bundle of red and pink roses. A full bouquet.
The feeling of something grazing your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you snap to attention to see Petra reaching toward you. When you meet her eyes, she pulls away, leaving a small rose bud tucked into your hair.
She grins, gesturing to a yellow flower she’s carefully tucked behind her ear. “There. We match now.”
“What are you two doing?”
You nearly startle at the sound of Levi’s voice on the other side of the bush.
He looks considerably healthier than the night before. Some color has come back to his skin and all of the blood and dirt has been washed away. There’s a small cut above his left eyebrow that you hadn’t noticed the night before, but it isn’t deep enough to be concerning.
“It’s called having fun, Levi,” Petra says. “You should give it a try sometime. Look, isn’t she cute?”
With his arms crossed over his chest, Levi’s focus shifts to the flower in your hair, then meets your gaze with total indifference. It makes you want to sink straight down into the earth under your feet.
“You're both going to get bugs in your hair,” he replies, ignoring her question entirely. “Everything’s ready in the square. Oluo is loading the rest of the supplies into the carriage now.”
“Oh, perfect.” With a renewed purpose, Petra pulls the basket of flowers from your arms. “I’ll get these sorted then so we can get going. We’ll see you both there.”
With another wave, she disappears inside.
For whatever reason, her departure leaves behind a heavy silence. Levi stares at you for a moment, and under his scrutiny, you awkwardly pull the flower from your hair.
“I found a ship that’ll take us to Plomaria,” he says after a moment.
“Really? When?”
“In three days, they’re sailing a shipment of goods into the capital. It would put us right where we need to be.”
You absently twirl the stem between your fingers. “Three days,” you repeat, nodding. “Okay.”
Even though you knew this was coming, it’s still difficult to wrap your head around. In three days, you’d leave Orenfeld and likely never come back. You’d leave Levi and Petra and Oluo. Theo and your parents. Zeke.
Were you making the right choice? Did you really want to be free of them forever?
“Did you want to go?”
You look at Levi for a moment, confused. “Well, that’s what we’re here for,” you say slowly. “I agreed to help you.”
“I meant the feast tonight. For Oblation Day.” He sighs like he already regrets asking. “Probably the last bit of fun you’ll have for a while.”
Oh. Well, when he puts it that way, maybe you should.
You smile. “It sounds fun.”
“Then let’s get going.” Unfolding his arms, he turns. “It starts at sundown.”
***
It’s not like any other feast you’ve ever attended.
At the most ambitious, you had anticipated a large group of people somehow gathered together in the main square, but the reality exceeded every expectation.
Dozens of shops and merchant stalls lined the winding main street, shouting out to onlookers and potential buyers in hopes of a sale. There are flower merchants selling bouquets, jewelry-makers, bakers displaying fragrant fruit pies and breads crusted to golden perfection, tailors and cloth traders, butcher shops. Everything you could have ever imagined and more.
You take it all in slowly, standing under an awning in the main square where a troupe of eight artists perform to music nearby for a crowd. They ring bells and dance in step with one another, fluid and graceful as they twist and turn and flip. The crowd oohs and aahs. A few vendors nearby call their thanks to patrons: May her light guide you!
Beside you, Levi watches the crowd. He hasn’t said much other than to clarify what things are when your curiosity has prompted questions. But mostly, he’s just watched like a sentinel on guard.
Once the performing troupe has dispersed, the crowd clears slightly. Music begins again and people begin to pair off in the street, creating an improvised dance space. Among them, you find Petra and Oluo, swaying and laughing together to the music.
Wordlessly, Levi begins walking.
“Wait,” you say, catching up to him. “Did you not want to stay?”
He glances at you. “I thought you might want to take a look around.”
“Well, I do but I’d like to see everyone dance for a bit too.” You fall into step with him. A question builds on your tongue, but you think you already know the answer to it. “Do you not want to dance?”
He scoffs. “I don’t dance.”
So maybe you do still know him a little bit. “You don’t dance, or you don’t know how to?”
“Does it matter?”
“Have you ever tried?”
He gives you an impatient look. “I don’t dance.”
“Fine, spoil sport.” Still, not wanting to dance doesn’t completely explain why he’s been so quiet and tense since you first got to the square. You think back to when he first started to walk away and make a guess. “Is it because of Petra and Oluo?”
His brows furrow. “What? No.”
“Then why are you rushing about with your shoulders up to your ears?” you ask, at a loss. “This is supposed to be a relaxing night of fun and you’re walking around like you’re being hunted.”
Levi’s quiet for several paces down the busy street. It’s hard to see his face in the soft light, but from what you can see, his brows are drawn together and his mouth is pulled into a deep frown.
“I don’t like crowds.”
He says it so quietly that you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the music.
For a moment, you don’t know what to say. After seeing him fight five men at once (and win), traverse a mountain like it was a brisk walk, and then take down a creature you wouldn't have been able to think up in your nightmares if you hadn’t seen it in the flesh, a fear of crowds seemed like the least likely thing he’d have. Petra’s words echo through your mind: Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.
But you remember what he did for you when you admitted you were having nightmares. He listened and had a solution already in place.
You look around where you’ve temporarily stopped. There are people everywhere, lined up and down the street on both sides. The way that a peal of laughter bounces off of the opposite buildings makes you look up, and you find a balcony on the second floor of what looks to be a tavern across the street. It’s mostly empty.
You point. “What about up there then?”
Levi follows your line of sight. There’s still a frown on his face when he sees it, but something like relief settles into his posture.
“Better than being down here.”
You set off down the street together, slipping through the crowd until you come to the road. A carriage passes by, and you stop next to a large statue carved from bronze. At first, you think nothing of it, but more than anything, the name etched into the placard on the stone it’s raised on makes you do a double take.
[Kenny Ackerman]
[30th Lord of Fendon]
It feels like you read those words a dozen times and it still doesn’t quite feel right. He’s standing with his gaze to the harbor, his stance proud and shoulders back. This was the man who tried to kill your father?
You realize about a half-second too late that Levi is already halfway across the road and you rush to catch up, trying to push the monument out of your mind.
The walk into the tavern and up the stairs feels like a blur. The night air becomes warm and thick with tobacco smoke and the smell of ale, then you're back out in the cool breeze again. Somehow, even though it’s just one floor, it feels quieter.
Levi’s standing with his elbows over the railing, watching people pass across the street. The tension in his shoulders seems to have lifted a bit, but he isn’t totally relaxed. He must have seen your interest in the statue.
You join him but keep your gaze on the people below. You incline your head toward them. “Do they know?”
He shakes his head, already clued into your thoughts. “You’re the only one here who knows. To everyone else, I’m just Levi.”
You turn to him then and find that he’s already looking at you, waiting. You offer him a smile. “Well, I guess we have that in common now.”
To your surprise, he mirrors it. Barely, but it’s there and that’s enough. You have more questions, but they can wait.
Behind you, the door opens.
“Would you like a drink, miss?”
A barman smiles and extends a large round tray of ale your way. When you both decline, he nods his head. “May her light guide you both.”
The door swivels closed behind him once again, leaving the phrase hanging in the silence that follows. You’ve heard it said so many times tonight, but for some reason it finally registers as one you’ve never heard.
“What does that mean, ‘may her light guide you’?” you ask, “I’ve heard it everywhere tonight.”
Levi’s focus is out on the horizon. For a moment, you think he hasn’t heard you, too busy lost in his own thoughts.
“They’re referencing the goddess of abundance and good fortune,” he eventually says.
“The old gods?” You tilt your head. “I didn’t know they were worshiped anymore.”
“They are here.” Levi nods. “Some of them rule the laws of magic, some rule natural law. This festival is practiced to give thanks for a good harvest.” His gaze flicks to you then, softer than before. “And it serves as a reminder to nurture new beginnings.”
You pause, not anticipating the olive branch he suddenly seems to be extending to you. It isn’t clear if he’s insinuating he trusts you, but at the very least it sounds as though he’s willing to try.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly.” You turn to him after a moment. “Whether or not you decide you can ever trust me again, I do appreciate your help. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
Levi listens as he watches the crowd ebb and flow on the street below. “No, you wouldn’t.”
His response makes you think of when you were children all those years ago, of the day when you argued beneath your favorite oak tree over how long you’d survive alone on an adventure. The day he told you about his family. The day you asked him to kiss you.
Levi’s mouth curls into a small smile, as if he’s remembering that day too.
“I think this calls for a celebration,” you tell him. “Have a drink with me.” His smile vanishes, but you quickly hold up a finger. “Just one. My treat. You can stay here out of the crowd and I’ll get it.”
He looks at you for a moment, clearly conflicted, but he finally sighs. “Fine. We’ll have one. But hurry. We’re going back to the farm after this. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”
Before he changes his mind, you leave him to hurry downstairs to the bar. You weave carefully through the crowd, sticking to the perimeter in an effort to not draw undue attention to yourself.
It seems almost pointless at this rate. Not a single person has identified you all night and it feels like the entire town is in the square.
You order and pay for two ales once you reach the bar but before you can retrieve them, a soft voice murmurs in your ear through the low hum of conversation.
Well, I go back to work tomorrow. I did not do as much writing as I had hoped during my six week recovery, but hopefully I can keep up some momentum before capitalism kills every ounce of motivation I have for life.
general cw: levi ackerman x fem!reader, fantasy au, royalty au, friends to enemies to lovers, reader has a default name
chapter cw: none
word count: 7648
Soft voices murmur over the sound of silverware on porcelain when Theo walks into the dining hall.
Mud is caked onto his boots from the journey from Desovik to the manor. Round droplets of water still cling to his hair from the rain that started up an hour ago. Normally, he’d head straight for his chambers to freshen up before dinner, but a steady pulse of indignation keeps him marching forward.
At the head of the long table, the king and queen sit in their usual seats. There’s an empty spot next to Theo’s mother, while Zeke sits immediately to the king’s right. He doesn’t look over as Theo approaches, still talking as he cuts into a serving of roasted chicken.
Theo doesn’t sit.
Instead, he walks to the head of the table, standing at the junction between where the king and Zeke sit. When he stops, everyone turns.
“Theo.” The king’s eyes travel slowly over his appearance with a mild expression, then follow the line of dirt tracked into the room behind him. “You’ve hardly missed dinner. Perhaps you’d like to clean yourself up and join us.”
“I would be glad to,” Theo nods, keeping his fists clenched at his sides, “but first, I’d like to give you an update on Victoria.”
Beside his father, the queen sits up a bit straighter and rests her fork on her plate.
“Oh, there’s no need,” the king says, waving his hand. “Zeke was just telling me that his men have given him a full report. I know they’re climbing Mount Stygia.”
“It’s possible they’ve made it to the other side by now,” Theo says. “There are several towns and villages in the valley that they could run to. There’s no telling where they’ve gone, and it will take my men over a week to go around.”
“Actually,” Zeke cuts in, “I suspect they’re on their way to Fendon.”
Theo’s head snaps to the other man. “What evidence do you have of that?”
Adjusting his glasses, Zeke returns his attention to the king. “Are you certain Victoria and Levi Ackerman weren’t in communication before she left?”
He’s given a quick nod.
“Yes. She wasn’t allowed to send or receive mail from anyone outside of our immediate family.”
Zeke seems to consider his answer. “Yes, well she also wasn’t allowed to leave the manor.” His gaze returns to Theo. “I find it strange that a girl such as herself was able to easily escape twice under the nose of Orenfeld’s newest sergeant major. My general told me that you interfered with their pursuit.”
“Yes, I’m glad you brought that up.” Theo takes a step forward, and if he didn’t know any better, he would think Zeke was sizing him up. It takes all of the effort in the world to not rip him up from his seat. “Would you care to explain why your men shot at my sister?”
It’s almost imperceptible, but a brief look of surprise flashes over Zeke’s features before it shifts to concern. If the news is not actually a shock to him, he does a convincing job of making it seem like one.
After a moment, he moves the linen cloth from his lap to the table and gets to his feet.
“I can assure you that I did not give that order,” he says, his mouth pressed into a thin frown. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and take care of this matter immediately.” Tentatively, he regards the king and queen before continuing. “I care very deeply for your daughter and only wish to see her returned unharmed. Anyone found in my ranks with ill intent will be sent back to Sondaria for trial.”
With a short bow, he makes for the doors to the encampment outside, leaving Theo with the king and queen. Two staff members appear from the adjoining kitchen to take plates and clear out the mud he’d tracked in.
“I’m sorry for interrupting dinner,” he begins, but the king raises his hand to stop him.
“Go and get cleaned up,” he says, gesturing wordlessly for the staff to take Zeke’s plate. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll get your report.” His gaze lingers for a moment on his son. “Thank you, Theo.”
With a nod, he exits out the main doors leading to the grand staircase.
His hands remain in tight fists until he makes it to his bedchamber on the second floor. After a weary thank you to the guard posted outside that opens the door for him, he allows his shoulders to sag once he’s alone.
All this time, he’s been adamant that this arrangement was beneficial for everyone involved. You, restless as you were, would get out of the tight clutches of your overprotective parents. Orenfeld would see victory over the south. A new alliance would form between Sondaria and Orenfeld.
He wasn’t exactly overjoyed when he first met Zeke, but the man had seemed pleasant enough in conversation. He was ambitious and quick-witted, bold when others were reluctant to speak their mind. He had considered Zeke a good match for you—someone strong. Someone who could rule.
But seeing you with him on the evening of the feast, how you had seemed so stiff and reluctant to take Zeke’s hand for a dance. The way he seemed to handle you like a possession. It was that night when Theo began to see the dangerous pride that dwelled underneath.
It would have been easy to wipe that breezy, confident smirk off of Zeke’s face, but he needs to control himself. One lapse in judgment and not only would Sondaria back out of their agreement, but he’d have his father to answer to.
Theo walks into the bathroom adjacent to his quarters, stripping off the layers of armor along the way. When he’s left to wait for water to fill the tub, he leans against the wash basin to look at his reflection.
There is something in Zeke’s reaction that doesn’t sit right in his mind. And why had he avoided answering why he thought Victoria was heading to Fendon?
He thinks again of the memory of arrows flying through the air, headed straight to your retreating back before something diverted them off course. For a moment, he thought his fear and anger had manifested another power within him, but he hadn’t felt the distinct stir of magic coursing through his body in that moment like he has so many times before. Whatever it was—whoever it was—had saved your life that day. If they hadn’t…
A dull crunch breaks him out of his thoughts, and he looks down to see that the basin has cracked in several places, starting where his hands were clenched around the edge before blooming outward like roots in the stone.
***
Five days pass without a single stone out of place around the perimeter of Fendon. All of the surrounding villages–Greenhaven, Barrowford, Glundhill, Silver Creek–are quiet. There have been no reports of anything amiss or unfamiliar travelers passing through.
That reassurance should put Levi at ease. Why then, does it feel like he’s missing something? Like whatever is amiss is staring him in the face.
He’s felt that a lot over the last two weeks. It’s as if something has shifted by degrees, slowly, ever since that night in Jaskin City.
It’s part of why he volunteered to look into the reports of soldiers spotted near the outskirts of town. A return to normalcy would usually help to restore some balance, but after the three days traveling across the gently sloped hills and valleys of West Orenfeld, he felt more unnerved than ever.
Not seeing Orenfeldian soldiers was usually a good thing, but now…
Unbidden, you slip into the forefront of Levi’s mind, and he sighs. A strange sensation accompanies it, low in his stomach, much like it has every moment he’s thought of you in the last three days and in reflex, he draws the hand not guiding Jasper’s reins to his brow. His head swims and pounds with the movement.
“Not even around and she’s still a nuisance,” Levi mutters to himself.
And yet, even as he says it, he knows the words don’t quite ring true. Not like they used to, at least.
He brings his hand back down to his side where a dark red stain has bloomed through his tunic and soaked into the hem of his trousers. It’s more important right now that he focuses on getting back to the farm before bleeding to death.
He crosses through the low stone wall that trails along the entrance of town, passing the decorated square.
When he first arrived back in Orenfeld, Fendon was the first place he visited. It had a rougher reputation back then. A haven for vagrants and other people deemed too unsavory for polite society. Access to the port drew all kinds of attention for people wanting an easy escape route. The harbormasters were known for turning a blind eye for a bit of coin.
He met Petra and Oluo in his first three months back. After being bitten by a venomous manderi, he had wound up at Dr. Ral’s front door. He had healed him and given him a room out of the cold.
Sometimes it felt as if destiny had manipulated the string of his fate. He ended up spending most of his time in the hardy coastal town, and Fendon became more like a home to him than anywhere else.
Now the main square glitters like a jewel in the receding halo of the sun. Enchanted lanterns filled with sun stones illuminate the marketplace, casting empty stalls in shadow as Jasper trots down the lane.
Thankfully, he doesn’t need to be reminded how to get home. It takes all of Levi’s remaining strength just to hang on as the familiar outline of the farm crests the horizon.
When he arrives, he thanks any deity that will listen that Petra is still awake.
As Levi waits with his weight bolstered against the kitchen table, she emerges from another room. The collection of things in her hands isn’t unfamiliar, but Levi always dreads the part that follows.
“So, what got you this time?” she asks as she comes to stand on his left.
With a bit of effort, Levi slowly lifts the hem of his shirt, revealing a long, bleeding gash on his torso. It’s too shallow to be a mortal wound, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling slightly nauseous at the sight of it.
“I don’t actually know,” he says. Without warning, she presses a cloth to the wound, now soaked in alcohol, and he winces. “Owen caught me on the way back into town and said something had been killing his goats. Thought it was just going to be another fiend, but the damn thing had claws the size of my arm.”
Blood mixes with the astringent smell of alcohol in the air, and Levi looks down to see the cloth pressed to his skin has now taken on a deep crimson color. After a few passes, his skin comes away clean.
“There are new creatures showing up every week.” Petra sighs, her brows furrowed in concentration as she shifts to thread a needle. “Kathrin had a den golem show up in her house yesterday. At least they’re helpful around the house but—oh, sorry!”
She falls silent after he hisses in pain, redirecting all of her focus into stitching his side.
A comfortable silence settles in between them for a few minutes, then Levi asks, “How has everything been going?”
Petra’s silent long enough to finish threading the suture through his skin. “Slower than expected,” she finally says, knowing exactly what he’s asking. “But I don’t think it’s an issue of learning. She seems… distracted.”
Levi hums. He’s seen it too. The way you would twitch and whimper in your sleep by the fire. How the smile you always put on never quite meets your eyes.
He had hoped that giving you an actual bed to sleep in would help with the nightmares. Maybe then you could focus, but it seemed there was more to it than a lack of sleep.
“How are the preparations coming for the feast?” Petra asks, changing the subject. The little wrinkle between her brows that forms when she’s worried begins to deepen.
“I’ll be helping tomorrow with a few final things,” he says, and he watches as her shoulders visibly relax. “Whatever those soldiers wanted, they seem to have moved on, so everything should go as planned.”
With a nod, Petra turns back.
“She asks about you a lot, you know?” she suddenly says, tilting her head. A tinge of gentleness seeps through her words that reveals there's something on her mind. Whatever it is makes her lip curl up into a half-smile. “Wonders where you are and when you’re coming back.”
There’s something about knowing that you ask about him that makes him feel a little guilty. Truthfully, he could have been around more, but the three nights alone has helped to clear his head.
“It's funny,” Petra continues thoughtfully. “She doesn’t act like a tavern girl. You should see her try to peel potatoes. You’d think she’s never worked in a kitchen a day in her life.”
The deliberate choice of words has him turning to look at her, and she meets Levi’s gaze with a pointed look.
Petra raises her brows. “Could that be because she’s not who she says she is?”
His first instinct is to deny it, but Levi knows she wouldn’t have brought it up if she wasn’t already confident she was right. Instead Levi sets his jaw and his mouth forms into a thin line. It sets Petra into a fit of laughter.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me who she actually is, are you?” she asks when she’s finally calmed down.
He sighs, at a complete loss for what to say. Telling her the truth was too much of a risk, and he’s not even sure she’d believe him if he tried. After a beat, he finally settles on, “It’s complicated.”
“That’s fine.” She waves her hand dismissively, still grinning. “I figure if you’re hiding it from me, you’ve got a good reason.”
That would be putting it lightly. Petra could be many things, but she wasn’t stupid. Or malicious. While you’re safe here, he knows she wouldn’t be pleased to know that he was harboring the princess of Orenfeld under her roof. And that’s not even to mention if soldiers get an idea that you’re here. It’s safer for everyone if she doesn’t know.
He’ll consider admitting it when you’re long gone. But until then, he could at least divulge one thing. Something that’s been bothering him since that night in Desovik.
He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then tries again. “She said a doe led her into Jaskin City.” Beside him, Petra’s movements pause. “That’s where I found her. I think a silvern led her to me.”
Petra gives him a long, thoughtful look. “Well, isn’t that good news?”
He shrugs. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
“Well, un-complicate it.” Like the issue is resolved, she gathers the leftover items and heads back for the door. “I know you like to pretend like you haven’t got a heart in there, but it wouldn’t kill you to open up a little. Invite her to the festival tomorrow. She could use a break, I think.” She pauses for a moment, considering her words before adding, “you both could,” and slips out of the room.
***
You’re in the Mordonian forest again.
It’s dark. All around you are trees, the canopy so thick that you can hardly see the ground beneath your feet.
It’s impossible to tell which part of the forest you’re in. Every direction looks the same. You try to get your bearings, but something howls in the distance, turning your blood to ice.
Before you know what you’re doing, you run. Loud, galloping footsteps follow, growing louder as your heart pounds in your chest. A snarl echoes against the trunks of trees. There could be more than one creature, but you don’t dare a glance over your shoulder to find out.
Scrambling over a fallen oak, a paved path of pearly white stone appears to break between the trees ahead. A figure is standing there and you shout. When they turn, you see that it’s Levi.
He extends his hand and relief washes over you. If whatever is following you is some creature, there isn’t anyone better to take it down. When you reach him, he takes your hand in his.
“Hurry,” he says. “You’re going to be late.”
The footsteps behind you have stopped, but now Levi’s leading you down the stone pathway in a sprint.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
He doesn’t answer.
“Levi?”
“Hurry up,” he growls. “He’s waiting.”
You frown. Who is waiting?
In the distance, the pathway opens up until you see the end. Two people stand on the stone edge, waiting.
Your stomach lurches as you realize one of them is Zeke. The other is your father.
It’s an altar.
You fight to pull your hand from Levi’s, but he doesn’t let go.
“What are you doing?” All of your strength isn’t enough to get away. Panic sets in as you get closer.
“You would never make it out here,” Levi says. Behind him, in the tree line, a small doe emerges from the forest, watching. “Stupid, spoiled brat. You never were good enough for me.”
He forces you to Zeke’s side despite your protests. Two strong hands bind your wrists, then you’re looking from another angle, watching as Levi and Petra stand before one another, their hands clasped as your father stands before them. You watch in stunned silence as they embrace one another, sharing a kiss as husband and wife.
You bolt upright with a gasp, hands trembling as you rub away the sensation of tight fingers from your wrists.
The familiar outline of Levi’s room slowly comes into focus in the dark, and you breathe a shaky sigh.
It was just another bad dream.
You take a moment to ground yourself, curling your shaky fingers around the blanket pooled in your lap and looking around the room. It’s still late. There’s one candle still lit, the flame just barely casting a glow bright enough to see much of anything beyond the edge of the bed. Only hot coals remain in the hearth nearby.
The room is cold enough to produce goosebumps over your arms and shoulders. You frown as the sensation prickles over your skin, making you shiver.
You shake your head, willing your thoughts to return to the present and not on how that dream made the pit of your stomach coil like some angry, provoked beast. It’s cold. That would explain why you’re having strange dreams about Levi and Petra of all people. At least it beats the usual ones you’ve been having lately of being eaten, you suppose.
As you wait for your heart rate to return to normal, you give up on the prospect of falling back to sleep and wrap the blanket around yourself. With the waning candle in one hand, you drag your heavy limbs to the sofa in front of the fireplace. It takes a few tries with the kindling that Oluo had chopped for you that morning, but eventually, you get another fire going.
Without really thinking about it, you step over to your bag to grab a book to pass the time. The day before, Petra had indulged your interest in her garden and offered to let you read some of her father’s journals on medicinal plants. At the very least, reading them would keep your mind from wandering until sunrise.
You reach into your bag and feel around for a spine, but a dim glow from inside piques your curiosity instead.
The necklace Zeke had gifted you seems to have somehow grown more radiant since you last looked at it over a week ago with Levi on the mountain. You pull it out, holding it from a distance with two fingers. Each amber crystal swirls with its own internal light and you get the unusual urge to put it on.
The sudden sound of the door opening behind you nearly causes you to drop it.
Levi is standing in the doorway. His clothes are ripped and torn in places and his skin appears unnaturally pale and clammy.
“Levi,” you greet, your surprise of his return heavy in your tone. “You’re back.”
For a moment, Levi just watches you, taking in the violet half-moons under your eyes and the subtle slump of your shoulders.
“It’s late,” he replies, shifting his attention to the kitchen. “What are you doing awake?”
Exhaustion burns behind your eyes, but you keep your expression mild. “Just reading.”
There’s a noticeable limp in the way that Levi walks into the kitchen, and when he makes it into the light, you see the crimson stain of blood on the front of his tunic.
Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re on your feet, abandoning the necklace and your bag on the table. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ve had worse,” he says. “Would you like some tea?”
You watch from a short distance as he retrieves two mugs from the cupboard and a small pot of tea leaves. There’s tension in his shoulders, and a stiffness in his movements in general as he moves that prompts you forward.
“Let me,” you say gently. “I’m not sure you should be standing.”
You reach for the small pot of tea leaves in Levi’s hand, fitting your fingers between the gaps of his own, but he doesn’t let go. When you attempt to tug it out of his grip, he scowls.
“I’m fine.”
Neither of you yield your hold on the small pot.
You’ve only been this close to him once in recent memory—after the mimic attack—but you hadn’t been looking into his eyes then. They’re a stormy blue, the shade of slate-grey familiar in a way that makes you pause and think of the last time you both held eye contact this long.
It brings back the fresh memory of the dream you had, and the subsequent shame you feel almost makes you pull away.
“Please sit down,” you murmur.
You half expect him to resist again, but he doesn’t. With a sneer, Levi finally lets go.
“Fine.” He goes to the nearest chair a few steps away and sinks into it with a heavy sigh. “Just don’t burn it.”
You grin but it’s hidden with your back to him, much like the subtle flush of your cheeks. “I know how to make tea, Levi.”
He mumbles something unintelligible, but you set your focus on heating the water and pouring enough leaves into the porcelain teapot for the both of you. The feeling of Levi’s gaze as you move about is ever-present, but you must brew tea to his liking, because he stays silent until you’re finished.
When you have two cups poured, you carry them to the small table where he’s sitting.
“So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been?” you ask, taking the seat opposite him.
Levi’s hands close around the cup you place in front of him, but he doesn’t immediately move to drink it, choosing instead to stare into the steam gently swirling up from the surface. “I’ve been tracking the soldiers that Oluo saw near Greenhaven.”
Your hand pauses with your own cup halfway to your lips. With everything else going on, you forgot Petra had mentioned them. “Did you find them?”
He shakes his head. “Whatever they wanted, it seems it didn’t have anything to do with you.”
He finally takes a cautious sip and you wait as he appears to let it settle on his tongue before swallowing.
“How is it?”
His head tilts slightly, clearly thinking about it. “Not bad.”
Something about his attempt to choose his words carefully makes you want to laugh, but you get the feeling that it would likely strike a nerve. Still, it doesn’t stop the corner of your mouth from twitching. “You’re a horrible liar.”
“I didn’t say it was great,” he points out.
“In my defense, I don’t usually make it for myself.”
“It shows.”
A brief, but not entirely awkward, silence stretches between the next two sips you take. Exhaustion continues to cling to your eyelids, and your body is starting to feel weighed down and sluggish. It seems the lack of sound sleep is beginning to take its toll.
Levi idly looks around the room. His eyes spot the preternatural glow of the necklace from the other table, the rumpled blanket, and the crackling fire in the hearth, now a bit smaller than when he first walked in.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re awake?”
The question itself is benign, but there’s a sincere earnestness in Levi’s eyes that takes you off guard. It’s the first time since you met him in Jaskin City that he’s asked in his own roundabout way how you’re feeling.
Does this mean that he actually cares, or is this going to be like the other times where you act too familiar and he backs off? But then, you doubt he would have bothered to ask if he didn’t want to know.
You open your mouth, but for several long seconds nothing comes out.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” you finally confess. “Sorry, I know that sounds silly when you’re sitting across from me covered in blood, but…” You trail off slightly, feeling a knot forming in your throat. Embarrassment floods your eyes, making them burn, so you close them and try to breathe. “It’s just been really difficult to adjust to all of this.”
Across from you, Levi’s expression stays fixed in a look of mild contemplation. You used to be able to read his microexpressions with ease, but now you can’t discern what he’s thinking. You think again of your dream. Maybe you really wouldn’t make it out here, in the real world.
“It isn’t silly.” Finally, Levi breaks the silence, briefly casting his gaze down to his tea. “Honestly, after the week we’ve had, you’re doing better than I expected.”
So, he does trust that you’re ignorant to most of the things you’ve encountered at least. As for the rest of it, you don’t know.
You want to bring it up again. You want to remind him that it wasn’t you who told your father about his identity, just to see if he’ll acknowledge it in some way. Forgive you, shout at you. Anything but ignore it. Just to know where you stand.
But ignoring it is an answer on its own in a way. By not acknowledging it, he gets to keep you at a distance. Maybe that’s what he’s been subtly trying to communicate this whole time. Surface level stuff is fine. Objective truths—the weather, what needs to be done in order to meet both of your goals. You’d need basic levels of camaraderie in order to see it through, but nothing deeper than that.
You suppose after all this time, maybe you owe it to him to just let it rest. If that’s what he wants.
“I didn’t know,” you say, feeling more comfortable to speak freely now that you know he isn’t judging you. “About magic, about you, about those…creatures.” Absently, your hand goes to cover your other one that’s still healing and Levi’s gaze follows the movement.
Despite his grisly condition, he looks slightly amused. “I still can’t believe you punched it.”
You chuckle, but the sound lacks warmth. “Yeah, well. I doubt he felt it much.”
“It was a female, actually.”
You watch him for a moment, expecting a laugh or for him to tell you he’s joking, but he doesn’t. “How do you know?”
“The males are much larger,” he says without a hint of humor. “I’m assuming you got too close to a den.”
All you can do is blink. It was terrifying enough to face one, much less to consider that mimics have sexual characteristics and breed. And the males were larger?
The thought alone makes you want to shiver, but you breathe out a shaky sigh instead. “Just got lucky, I guess.”
“My point, Tori, is that you’ve experienced a lot this week. And it’s scary, going into something blind like you’re doing, but you’re making the choice yourself. As long as you’re happy with that, don’t let anything stop you.” He finishes the last of his tea, then gestures to your own. “Drink all of it. It’ll help you sleep. I’m going to clean up.” He gestures to himself.
He gets to his feet and retreats into the bathroom. Still at the table, you look down into your almost empty cup.
So, that’s why you feel so tired all of a sudden. Tired enough to actually sleep. He had taken one look at you and knew just what you needed. That’s thoughtful.
The realization hits you like a tidal wave, and you’re filled with a mixture of gratitude and wistfulness.
Tori. He hasn’t called you that since you were kids.
***
You don’t wake until the early afternoon. Levi is already gone when you come to. The bed has been made and his boots and bags are gone. If it wasn’t for the mug left in the sink, you’d wonder if the night before had been some bizarre extension of your dreams.
You feel lighter as you get ready for the day, refreshed despite sleeping on the cramped sofa. Even though he had told you to take it initially, you figured it was only fair to give Levi his bed back since he was injured, and he apparently hadn’t protested. Or maybe he just didn’t want to wake you when he returned to find you already asleep in front of the fire.
Petra is already out in the garden when you find her a little while later.
It’s a bright and sunny day, so you had opted for one of your simpler dresses and pulled your hair back into a plain braid when getting ready. It would make it easier for picking plants.
“Morning, Iz!” Petra waves. She’s standing in front of an overgrown bed of white flowers, a pair of gloves already on her hands resting on her hips.
You smile in greeting. You’re getting better at acknowledging the fake name you gave her.
“Morning, Petra,” you say. “I thought you weren’t working for Oblation Day?”
She shrugs. “Normally I wouldn’t, but if I put this off, these will overmature.” She gestures to the white flowers, with their blooms no bigger than the palm of your hand.
You recall seeing them in one of the journals she had given you, on a section that her father had dedicated to wound care.
“Yarrow?” you guess, to which Petra smiles. “It’s used to stop bleeding right?”
Grabbing a wide wicker basket waiting on the ground nearby, she stoops slightly to trim a few of the stems. “You’re right! I had to send my stores of a more concentrated mix to Silver Creek a few weeks ago, so I’ll dry these and grind them into powder tomorrow.”
Feeling rather useless, you offer to hold the basket as she keeps plucking the stems.
It’s fascinating to learn about what sorts of plants Petra grows. Most of them are medicinal in nature, helping to cure colds and fevers and dull pain. It’s a science you had never been exposed to in the past, but you’re learning to accept that it was by design.
“You never know when you’re going to need it,” she continues, “so I like to keep ample stock on hand for emergencies. Oh,” she gestures down several rows to a section of large pink and red roses, “we’ll also need more of those for the kinship feast tonight.”
“Kinship feast?”
Petra plucks another bundle and stands up. “Yeah, Levi didn’t tell you?”
Your fingers tighten around the basket’s handle. Is this something that the real Isabel would already know about?
You quickly try to think of a neutral response, but Petra just shakes her head.
“Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.” Dropping the last of the stems into the basket, she leads the way down to the other side of the garden. “It’s the big celebration that we hold each year for Oblation Day in the town square. There’s music and food and drinks.”
You perk up.
“That sounds like fun.”
Petra turns to you. “You should come. I think you’d like it.”
She starts plucking at a bush of large yellow roses. Beside her, you have to temper your interest. As fun as it sounds to eat and dance, to belong, you doubt it would be safe. Trouble seems to follow wherever you go.
“What do you do with these?” you ask, stopping your thoughts in their tracks.
“Oh, these are sold at the feast.” She smiles. “It’s become a bit of a tradition after dinner for people to give one another flowers. Yellow is for friendship,” she gestures to the bloom in her hand before dropping it into the basket, “Pink is given to initiate a romantic courtship, and red is for professing love.”
You follow along as she moves around the bush, gathering clippings into her arms. Has she ever been given a rose? Surely, she has. Petra’s pretty and smart, and if the amount of people coming in and out seeking help for their ailments can vouch for anything, she’s also important to her community. To torture you further, your mind conjures images of Levi approaching her with a large bundle of red and pink roses. A full bouquet.
The feeling of something grazing your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you snap to attention to see Petra reaching toward you. When you meet her eyes, she pulls away, leaving a small rose bud tucked into your hair.
She grins, gesturing to a yellow flower she’s carefully tucked behind her ear. “There. We match now.”
“What are you two doing?”
You nearly startle at the sound of Levi’s voice on the other side of the bush.
He looks considerably healthier than the night before. Some color has come back to his skin and all of the blood and dirt has been washed away. There’s a small cut above his left eyebrow that you hadn’t noticed the night before, but it isn’t deep enough to be concerning.
“It’s called having fun, Levi,” Petra says. “You should give it a try sometime. Look, isn’t she cute?”
With his arms crossed over his chest, Levi’s focus shifts to the flower in your hair, then meets your gaze with total indifference. It makes you want to sink straight down into the earth under your feet.
“You're both going to get bugs in your hair,” he replies, ignoring her question entirely. “Everything’s ready in the square. Oluo is loading the rest of the supplies into the carriage now.”
“Oh, perfect.” With a renewed purpose, Petra pulls the basket of flowers from your arms. “I’ll get these sorted then so we can get going. We’ll see you both there.”
With another wave, she disappears inside.
For whatever reason, her departure leaves behind a heavy silence. Levi stares at you for a moment, and under his scrutiny, you awkwardly pull the flower from your hair.
“I found a ship that’ll take us to Plomaria,” he says after a moment.
“Really? When?”
“In three days, they’re sailing a shipment of goods into the capital. It would put us right where we need to be.”
You absently twirl the stem between your fingers. “Three days,” you repeat, nodding. “Okay.”
Even though you knew this was coming, it’s still difficult to wrap your head around. In three days, you’d leave Orenfeld and likely never come back. You’d leave Levi and Petra and Oluo. Theo and your parents. Zeke.
Were you making the right choice? Did you really want to be free of them forever?
“Did you want to go?”
You look at Levi for a moment, confused. “Well, that’s what we’re here for,” you say slowly. “I agreed to help you.”
“I meant the feast tonight. For Oblation Day.” He sighs like he already regrets asking. “Probably the last bit of fun you’ll have for a while.”
Oh. Well, when he puts it that way, maybe you should.
You smile. “It sounds fun.”
“Then let’s get going.” Unfolding his arms, he turns. “It starts at sundown.”
***
It’s not like any other feast you’ve ever attended.
At the most ambitious, you had anticipated a large group of people somehow gathered together in the main square, but the reality exceeded every expectation.
Dozens of shops and merchant stalls lined the winding main street, shouting out to onlookers and potential buyers in hopes of a sale. There are flower merchants selling bouquets, jewelry-makers, bakers displaying fragrant fruit pies and breads crusted to golden perfection, tailors and cloth traders, butcher shops. Everything you could have ever imagined and more.
You take it all in slowly, standing under an awning in the main square where a troupe of eight artists perform to music nearby for a crowd. They ring bells and dance in step with one another, fluid and graceful as they twist and turn and flip. The crowd oohs and aahs. A few vendors nearby call their thanks to patrons: May her light guide you!
Beside you, Levi watches the crowd. He hasn’t said much other than to clarify what things are when your curiosity has prompted questions. But mostly, he’s just watched like a sentinel on guard.
Once the performing troupe has dispersed, the crowd clears slightly. Music begins again and people begin to pair off in the street, creating an improvised dance space. Among them, you find Petra and Oluo, swaying and laughing together to the music.
Wordlessly, Levi begins walking.
“Wait,” you say, catching up to him. “Did you not want to stay?”
He glances at you. “I thought you might want to take a look around.”
“Well, I do but I’d like to see everyone dance for a bit too.” You fall into step with him. A question builds on your tongue, but you think you already know the answer to it. “Do you not want to dance?”
He scoffs. “I don’t dance.”
So maybe you do still know him a little bit. “You don’t dance, or you don’t know how to?”
“Does it matter?”
“Have you ever tried?”
He gives you an impatient look. “I don’t dance.”
“Fine, spoil sport.” Still, not wanting to dance doesn’t completely explain why he’s been so quiet and tense since you first got to the square. You think back to when he first started to walk away and make a guess. “Is it because of Petra and Oluo?”
His brows furrow. “What? No.”
“Then why are you rushing about with your shoulders up to your ears?” you ask, at a loss. “This is supposed to be a relaxing night of fun and you’re walking around like you’re being hunted.”
Levi’s quiet for several paces down the busy street. It’s hard to see his face in the soft light, but from what you can see, his brows are drawn together and his mouth is pulled into a deep frown.
“I don’t like crowds.”
He says it so quietly that you almost don’t catch it over the sound of the music.
For a moment, you don’t know what to say. After seeing him fight five men at once (and win), traverse a mountain like it was a brisk walk, and then take down a creature you wouldn't have been able to think up in your nightmares if you hadn’t seen it in the flesh, a fear of crowds seemed like the least likely thing he’d have. Petra’s words echo through your mind: Leave it to him to not mention it. He hates big gatherings.
But you remember what he did for you when you admitted you were having nightmares. He listened and had a solution already in place.
You look around where you’ve temporarily stopped. There are people everywhere, lined up and down the street on both sides. The way that a peal of laughter bounces off of the opposite buildings makes you look up, and you find a balcony on the second floor of what looks to be a tavern across the street. It’s mostly empty.
You point. “What about up there then?”
Levi follows your line of sight. There’s still a frown on his face when he sees it, but something like relief settles into his posture.
“Better than being down here.”
You set off down the street together, slipping through the crowd until you come to the road. A carriage passes by, and you stop next to a large statue carved from bronze. At first, you think nothing of it, but more than anything, the name etched into the placard on the stone it’s raised on makes you do a double take.
[Kenny Ackerman]
[30th Lord of Fendon]
It feels like you read those words a dozen times and it still doesn’t quite feel right. He’s standing with his gaze to the harbor, his stance proud and shoulders back. This was the man who tried to kill your father?
You realize about a half-second too late that Levi is already halfway across the road and you rush to catch up, trying to push the monument out of your mind.
The walk into the tavern and up the stairs feels like a blur. The night air becomes warm and thick with tobacco smoke and the smell of ale, then you're back out in the cool breeze again. Somehow, even though it’s just one floor, it feels quieter.
Levi’s standing with his elbows over the railing, watching people pass across the street. The tension in his shoulders seems to have lifted a bit, but he isn’t totally relaxed. He must have seen your interest in the statue.
You join him but keep your gaze on the people below. You incline your head toward them. “Do they know?”
He shakes his head, already clued into your thoughts. “You’re the only one here who knows. To everyone else, I’m just Levi.”
You turn to him then and find that he’s already looking at you, waiting. You offer him a smile. “Well, I guess we have that in common now.”
To your surprise, he mirrors it. Barely, but it’s there and that’s enough. You have more questions, but they can wait.
Behind you, the door opens.
“Would you like a drink, miss?”
A barman smiles and extends a large round tray of ale your way. When you both decline, he nods his head. “May her light guide you both.”
The door swivels closed behind him once again, leaving the phrase hanging in the silence that follows. You’ve heard it said so many times tonight, but for some reason it finally registers as one you’ve never heard.
“What does that mean, ‘may her light guide you’?” you ask, “I’ve heard it everywhere tonight.”
Levi’s focus is out on the horizon. For a moment, you think he hasn’t heard you, too busy lost in his own thoughts.
“They’re referencing the goddess of abundance and good fortune,” he eventually says.
“The old gods?” You tilt your head. “I didn’t know they were worshiped anymore.”
“They are here.” Levi nods. “Some of them rule the laws of magic, some rule natural law. This festival is practiced to give thanks for a good harvest.” His gaze flicks to you then, softer than before. “And it serves as a reminder to nurture new beginnings.”
You pause, not anticipating the olive branch he suddenly seems to be extending to you. It isn’t clear if he’s insinuating he trusts you, but at the very least it sounds as though he’s willing to try.
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly.” You turn to him after a moment. “Whether or not you decide you can ever trust me again, I do appreciate your help. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”
Levi listens as he watches the crowd ebb and flow on the street below. “No, you wouldn’t.”
His response makes you think of when you were children all those years ago, of the day when you argued beneath your favorite oak tree over how long you’d survive alone on an adventure. The day he told you about his family. The day you asked him to kiss you.
Levi’s mouth curls into a small smile, as if he’s remembering that day too.
“I think this calls for a celebration,” you tell him. “Have a drink with me.” His smile vanishes, but you quickly hold up a finger. “Just one. My treat. You can stay here out of the crowd and I’ll get it.”
He looks at you for a moment, clearly conflicted, but he finally sighs. “Fine. We’ll have one. But hurry. We’re going back to the farm after this. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”
Before he changes his mind, you leave him to hurry downstairs to the bar. You weave carefully through the crowd, sticking to the perimeter in an effort to not draw undue attention to yourself.
It seems almost pointless at this rate. Not a single person has identified you all night and it feels like the entire town is in the square.
You order and pay for two ales once you reach the bar but before you can retrieve them, a soft voice murmurs in your ear through the low hum of conversation.
toji fucks you well that you are genuinely driven to a point of near insanity from the pleasure. everything is stripped away until all you feel is what you can only describe as a sort of pure animal lust. you’ve lost all sense of shame or embarrassment. you’re just clawing at him, biting him, moaning loudly because you’re unable to actually form coherent words let alone string together a sentence. it’s…a lot
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