S: The lights are out, and Virgil is unfortunately tall.
P: analogical
for the prompt “If I die, I’m haunting you first.” for analogical? (virgil does dissociate a bit in this so if you’re not with out of body experiences, maybe don’t read this?)
***
“If I die, I’m haunting you first,” Virgil hisses from gritted teeth. The whole notion that he could balance long enough to change the lightbulb above the staircase is preposterous, but he’s the tallest, so here he is, precariously leaned over the stairs from the top railing.
“Actually, if you die, you won’t be haunting anybody because ghosts aren’t real,” Logan stands on the stairs below, casually adjusting his glasses as he studies the manual for taking the light apart. “You have to unscrew the one on the left and the right, but you can leave the others.”
Scowling as he makes the adjustments, Virgil wants to point out that the least he could do was look up to catch him if he falls. Instead, he mutters under his breath, “Oh buddy, you’re gonna shit your pants when you wake up tomorrow and the first thing you see is my bloody eyes staring right back at you.”
To which the bastard smirks, “That would imply that you know where my room is, to which all I can say is you haven’t found it yet and you won’t, so good luck with that.”
“You will rue the day you put me up to this,” The lightbulb fits in seamlessly. “Or maybe not.”
He realizes he jinxed himself when the foot he was balancing on is no longer underneath him, and he finds himself knowing the definition of vertigo. Luckily, Logan had vanished the book out of his hands and now holds a distraught, shaking Virgil.
“Rue. You will rue it.” Virgil states blankly, staring up at the fixture he just replaced. “Put me down now, please.” His tone is polite, if emotionless, and Logan pointedly does not put him down. He sits, Virgil still in his arms, on the lowest stair and starts counting, low and with rhythm, the way Virgil likes when he’s nervous.
He rocks back and forth, pressing him to his chest, like the rise and fall of his breathing will make a near death experience less harrowing, not even knowing if it was near death, not knowing if he can die, but doing it regardless, because when he’s like this, Virgil thinks Logan can read his mind. He’s patient, not wanting to make things worse. There’s no pressure in what he says or does, he’s just steady.
When Virgil finally takes a full breath in, coming back to the real world, he can tell Logan’s been here for a few minutes at least, his count on 134.
“I was totally right, and if you hadn’t caught me, you would be looking at my corpse right now,” he puts on a grin, and even if it’s weak, it makes Logan smile. “Totally psycho-esque, off the side of a building bad.”
Logan hums, not phased and a little exasperated, “Well, then you can be thankful I did catch you, and next time, you could be more careful watching your step.”
Virgil snorts, “Next time? I am never, ever changing that light again.”
He rests his head in Death’s lap, reveling in the boney hand scratching lightly at his scalp, and he asks, “Would you have remembered me if I didn’t cheat death?” and without waiting for a response adds, “Would you have known me alive?”
In a moment of quiet honesty, Death answers, “No, I believe I wouldn’t have cared. I would have never known you. You would be as the thousands I carry across, nameless, faceless, another soul in the crowd.”
“And now?” The short question fills the room. “Will you remember me now that I’m not one of them?”
Death hesitates. “...Yes.” They adjust their hold on the not-anymore-human so they could pull him closer, “There are names, entities, that will not fade as time continues. I am one of them, known by many a different name, but still the same wherever I choose to be.”
They begin to move their hands, light and time bending itself into images of past and future, “The legends are another class, the heros, the tragedies, I don’t care much for them.” Their nose twists in disgust at their follies. “There are those who think themselves gods and gods who think themselves human.”
Looking down at the man in their lap, they sigh, fond and reluctant, “You, my dear, you are a star above all the rest. If I could still make the universe larger, you would be your own galaxy. You would be eternal.” They aren’t quite hesitant, but their fingertips brush his skin so lightly, its as if the touch isn’t really there. “As it stands, you are mortal and you are not. Human and not. Mine,” They add softly with a twinge of regret, “And not. There are many reasons your memory will not leave me, but you must know, there is not one way I could even try to forget you. It’s as if my whole being altered knowing you, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”
He doesn’t respond, and he doesn’t ask anymore questions. Instead, he takes their hand and presses his lips to the back of it. He tries his best to convey in all the words that don’t exist, “Thank you, for knowing me and keeping me and making me yours and all the things in between,” and at the same time, “Me too.”
S: Logan just wants to read his book. He should have looked at which sweater he picked up that morning before settling down.
P: logicality
request for @sjrose1217 for the prompt 8. “okay, where are all my jumpers?” for logicality
While Thomas spends time scripting at night, Logan usually catches a break from reasoning out every little thing, letting Roman take over offering little quips and banter.
Instead, Logan tends to curl up in their shared living room with a cup of tea to enjoy a book or a game that can be played individually for some well deserved alone time. Usually, something like sudoku or solitaire. Plain, everyday, fun activities.
Today, however, today is different. The reason it’s different is that when he settles down with his tea, he can’t shake the feeling of someone staring at him.
If not for those eyes, Logan would be a chapter into his new mystery novel by now.
He doesn’t take his eyes off the page, but he does try to look out of the corners of his eyes for the culprit.
By the fifth minute of this, he just sighs and closes his book.
Setting it down exasperated, he calls into the empty room, “What’s up?”
Popping up, Patton stands across from him with his hands on his hips. He says nothing as he continues to stare, a smug look growing on his face.
“You have to be more obvious, Pat, I have no idea what you’re after,”
Patton just grins at him and tugs at his sleeve, playing with the cuff at his wrist.
“Please, whatever it is, just say it.” Logan asks, moving his cup to his other hand.
“Okay,” he hums happily, “Where are all my jumpers?”
“Excuse me?”
“I woke up this morning,” he snuggles into Logan’s side, running a palm along the soft side of his sweater. “And I didn’t have any sweaters in my room, and they’ve been going missing for ages. But here you are. In my jumper. So I think I’ve probably found my thief, huh?”
“That’s absurd,” Logan says, remembering the several sweaters, onesies, and stuffed animals in his room. “You may have simply left it in my room.”
“That’s what you said about Lilypadton too,” Patton raises an eyebrow, referencing the little frog toy that frequently found itself in Logan’s bed. “Now I’m no detective, but I think I’m a pretty good in-vest-igator.”
Logan makes a pained noise.
“Oh, come on,” Patton pulls his arm around him, ducking to nuzzle under his chin, forcing him to put his tea down, “I’ve caught my knit-orious sweater burglar!”
Logan sighs forlornly. He invited this pun brigade on himself with all the things he’s been taking from Patton’s room every time he slept there. “I’m not giving you this sweater back right now, you’ll have to wait until tonight.”
“But it’s mine!” At Logan’s raised eyebrow, he flops onto him. “That’s fine, just gimme the other ones,” He reasons, his nose turned up imperiously.
“Others?” Logan continues to feign cluelessness, hiding a smile in his boyfriend’s hair.
“In all seriousness,” Patton turns to look him in the eye, “Fleece give me back my stuff.”
“I hate you,” He can’t help the instinctual response, fully grinning now.
“And you’ll hate me less if I have my stuff back.” Smiling back up at him, Patton digs his fingers in his stomach, “or you’re gonna have to catch me before I get it back myself.”
He leaps up and makes a break for the dark blue room, and Logan chases after him, hot on his heels.
S: People usually find their soulmate by following their heart (the closer you are to your soulmate, the warmer you’ll feel). Remus has been pining for so long, he doesn’t know how to handle himself.
P: dukeceit
happy birthday, @littlemisschameleon!! it’s corona and i can’t give you a physical present so have some dukeceit soulmate au!! i hope you like it :D
(here’s an ao3 link if yall like that formatting better)
***
Remus sends the letter because Roman’s teacher thinks a penpal will help him learn English. Also, because Roman thinks it’s stranger danger and won’t.
If he gets kidnapped, at least there’s a chance for his heart to feel warmer whichever direction his kidnapper goes. Fact remains, he’s freezing and bored and he’d do pretty much anything to not be.
He neglects to say that in the letter.
His penpal instead receives the gift of approximately two full pages of fun facts about different species of mushrooms and how fast they can decay different animals. It’s pretty well written, if he says so himself, and it’s all in English because he’s polite, not because it has to be.
Any who, Ms. Andrea says she’s not going to read the letters before they’re sent, and Roman is only required to send one at a time, so Remus signs it with his own name and lets it go.
He doesn’t expect the letter he gets back to be so nice.
His penpal’s name is Janus and he doesn’t like to eat mushrooms unless they’re in fried rice, but he loves how mushrooms look.
There are little mushroom doodles that line the bottom, along with a few snakes, which Janus goes on to say is because they’re his favorite animal because of the way they unhinge their jaws.
Remus has never wished to be in the same school as someone more.
***
The next letter they write to each other includes their emails, and Remus takes full advantage of it to send Janus all the deadliest snakes he’s found out about in the library, and includes a pain scale with human accounts of getting bitten.
Janus sends back a heart and fun facts about the deadliest octopi in the ocean.
He feels his heart get slightly warmer when he hugs the monitor, and when he loudly proclaims he found his soulmate, he gets a laugh from Roman.
He asks him what his plan is here, and Remus tells him to shut his fuck and keep his nose out of it if he doesn’t want to get smacked.
***
When they’re old enough to have phones, they exchange cell numbers, and Remus gets daily updates instead of sporadic emails.
He finds out that Janus likes to dress a little more on the punk side and that he wants a million tattoos as soon as he’s old enough. Janus tells him about foster homes and how he thinks he might be sticking with one of the other kids he met who is a little older than him, but is sort of like him.
Janus is smart, smarter than anyone he’s ever met in real life, and he wants to go to law school because he knows he can talk his way out of hell if the devil asked him to try, and Remus is inclined to believe he could do it if he wanted to. He thinks through all his words, his every movement, ten times before he follows through, unlike Remus’ zero-thought policy.
He learns that Janus likes boys, but there aren’t really other people in his hometown like him, and that he wants to study in a big city someday so he’s not so alone.
He learns that Janus wants to keep talking to him forever, or at least that’s what he tells him.
Remus in turn tells him about his brother, and their origin story. He tells him about how everyone else just seemed to have grown out of curiosity and how he feels out of touch with other people his age sometimes.
There’s still a part of him that feels like he’s been touching all the stars in the sky, but none of them have set his orbit quite right, leaving him drifting endlessly.
He tells him that he might like boys too, but he doesn’t really want to tell his mom because she already rags on him for everything else, like wanting to go to art school and his knife collection and how he’ll never meet his soulmate with an attitude like his.
He doesn’t tell him about the small seed of doubt in the back of his head that Janus won’t want to stay if he ever meets him in real life.
He tells him he wants to keep talking forever too.
***
They don’t ever talk about meeting in person. For the first time in their lives, they’re in the same city, but every time he goes to bring it up, seeing a picture of Janus in the financial district, or near his favorite Starbucks, something makes him hesitate.
Remus wants it so bad, it feels like all the air in his lungs isn’t real sometimes, or like something cut up his insides then spooned all the pieces out to replace them with ice. Still, the thought lingers in the back of his mind that Janus hasn’t suggested it for a reason.
They still talk all the time though, whether it's to rant about professors, or homework, or siblings, or just about something they saw recently.
Janus tends to hyperfocus on cases he works on in his internship sometimes, and when he’s allowed, he tells Remus all the gory details and grins when he revels in the fun, while also giving valuable insight that contributes to his defense.
Remus in turn sends him the paintings that don’t involve Janus’ face and stupid selfies he takes at random food carts around school that are rumored to give you instant food poisoning.
He makes sure to send progress updates on the projects he really feels good about and sends him updates on Roman and his new trends, whether they be six second dance videos or random quotes he’s said to him of varying hilarity based on how stupid they are.
The longer he lives in the city, the more Remus knows his heart feels warmer. He’s been feeling it since the start of the semester, but he hasn’t said anything yet, at least not to Janus. Roman is free game, though:
“Roman, I swear to everything fuckable within a ten mile radius, he probably goes to the same college as me,” Remus groans, his feet propped up on the back of the couch as he lies upside down. “I get warmer every time I go to campus.”
“There’s a million colleges in New York, so he really might not be,” Roman says reasonably, doing his eyeliner in the hall mirror. “Besides, he’s pre-law, right? There’s no way.”
“You’re just being uppity because you fricking met your soulmate on campus,” He responds grumbling.
“You’re right, I am. My soulmate’s a genius and I am very lucky to have met him when I did,” His twin’s pride infects the room, and he throws one Roman’s unnecessary couch pillows at him. “If you make me screw up my eyeliner, I’m going to run you through with one of your stupid wall-katanas.”
“They aren’t stupid, and I’m never going to see him face to face at this rate, so you might as well,” he snipes back, his purely decorative wall-mounted katanas be damned.
Roman raises an eyebrow, as if his mocking will affect Remus at all, “I’ll be back in like three hours, then you can mope your heart out, okay?”
He gathers his things from the hall table as Remus yells at his retreating back, “I don’t mope, I’m not you!”
“No, you’re not, and that’s why you don’t have a hot date tonight!” he hears as the door shuts.
He wishes he kept the pillow to suffocate himself with.
***
When Roman knocks on Virgil’s door, he doesn’t expect the person who answers the door to be so familiar, and he’s sure the answering party doesn’t expect him either.
“I thought-Sorry, I thought my roommate’s soulmate was coming over,” Janus says, a flash of recognition in his eyes, completely stunned in a way Roman has never heard while listening in on his brother’s phone calls.
“Yeah, no, I’m here for Virgil. Janus, right?” And at the immediately suspicious look goes, “Oh, for fuck’s sake, you send my brother at least five selfies a week, and he agonizes over your beauty for ages after every single one, you have to know I would recognize you on sight.”
“....Roman?” he asks, like he doesn’t actually know what was going to leave his mouth when he said it.
“That would be me,” Roman just goes for the back of his neck, before wincing at the Remus-like gesture. “So, uh, Virgil?”
“Yeah, yes!” Janus opens the door fully so fast, Roman almost expects him to run himself over, “Do come in. Would you like anything while you wait? Water? Tea?”
“Nah, I’m good,” Janus hovers for a moment like he’s going to say something, but bites his lip instead, “Want to know how my brother is doing?”
He shifts elegantly, though his chains rattle, making the adjustment more obvious, “Of course not, what do you take me for?”
“A liar, you definitely want to know how he’s doing. Well, you’ll be happy to know he lives fifteen minutes away,” Roman grins, “And he’s home alone right now, pouting about wanting to see you, if you wanna go over.”
“It would be rude to leave you unattended in my home,” Janus replies, his voice strangled. “Arrangements can be made to get Virgil to hurry up.”
Leaving the room in a swift movement of leather and metal, Janus nearly vaults the couch in his haste. Roman can hear him yelling at Virgil to “Hurry up, you nasty, spider-pet keeping bitch,” and his soulmate’s yells to “Get out of my room, you tattooed skank!” Then an offended gasp, “How dare you?” and the snarling response, “You barge into my space and-”
“You hooked up with my soulmate’s brother-”
”Who is my soulmate, idiot!”
“Would you just-”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
Janus leaves the room and, in Roman’s line of sight, straightens his shirt as if he’d just been in some sort of scuffle. “Virgil will be out shortly, if you wouldn’t mind giving me the address.”
“You two are going to be related if you marry my brother, you know?” Roman grins as he puts the address into Janus’ phone.
He takes the phone back and rolls his eyes, “We were fostered by the same family. We really can’t get any closer, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
“We were adopted by the same person, Jan, why do you always conveniently leave that part out?” Virgil grumbles as he enters the room. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and be safe.”
Janus sniffs turning up his nose, “I’m going to get violently murdered before I even make it there,”
“Don’t test me, I will put off this date,” he pushes Janus’ head forward so he can’t look up at them. “Be safe, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Janus mumbles, fixing his hat and his chained belt, “Do I look okay?”
“My brother is a trash rat,” Roman responds, louder than he means to, “You will look like a model next to him and you will constantly get questioned as to why you’re in a five foot radius of him.”
“So, good?”
“Fantastic,” Roman confirms. “Now have fun.”
Janus double checks his pockets for his phone and his wallet, and then he books it in the direction of the twins’ apartment.
***
For the first time since he moved in, Remus feels himself getting warmer by the second. It’s not as though he’s moved from his spot going over every single thing that could currently be going wrong at Roman’s date, but somehow, his heart is pounding like he has.
“What do you see?” He asks it, vaguely aware it can’t actually respond. Either his soulmate just figured out where he lives, or there is something extremely important happening in the city.
Picking up his phone to check, it lights up with a text from Roman reading ‘Sending a pick-me-up your way,’ but he has no idea what it means.
After two minutes of constant heat, he searches for major events happening nearby. Nothing.
Five more minutes pass, and he thinks he might die young to a heart attack.
There’s a knock on the door.
His self preservation instincts must be completely nonexistent at this point because he yanks the door open with a knife in his hand and freezes. There, right in front of him, is Janus, who he thought he’d never see, and who was always too good for him, and yet, perfect for him in every way and, “I could have accidentally killed you with one of my many wall-hung weapons because you didn’t knock like Roman,” and that is the first thing he chooses to say to his soulmate.
“I wouldn’t have appreciated the trip to the hospital after I just sprinted over half a mile to see you,” he pants a little, “I know we didn’t talk about it, but Roman showed up at my door, and I knew you had to be nearby, and I just-”
Remus yanks him forward into his arms, and sighs in relief as the heat abruptly goes away, “Mr. I-think-everything-through needed to be impulsive, huh?”
“Yes,” Comes the fervent response as he clings to Remus’ body. “I missed you.”
“I thought you didn’t want to meet up. We didn’t even-”
“I know,” And Janus’ mouth brushes his cheek, just barely, because he’s not tall enough to reach, and Remus bends down, and kisses him soundly on the mouth, the feeling running through his body like a new kind of heat and comfort, and it feels like he’s done it a million times, even if it’s the first time.
Breaking apart, he notices they’re just standing in the doorway of his apartment. “Come inside, sweetheart,” He wiggles his eyebrows salaciously, Janus bursting into laughter as he pushes him back.
“Nope,” He grins fondly, and this is the first day of the rest of their lives, it hits Remus, “I think I’m going to cause problems on purpose.”
“Fair enough, honeybee,” He tugs at the yellow cuffs of Janus’ leather jacket, pressing a kiss to a tattoo at the edge of his hairline, “Want me to carry you? Roman did say he was sending a pick-me-up, and I can definitely pick you up.”
He’s giggling, Remus delights as he scoops him up, kicking the door shut behind them, “If you call me one more pet name, I will combust, and you will have no soulmate to be with, is that what you want?”
And he says what he wants to say, because Janus has never once cared about the shit that leaves his mouth, “Biscuit, I’ve waited so long to see you, even death couldn’t keep me away from holding you.”
Janus pushes into him and kisses him again, putting a hand in his hair, tugging slightly to get the angle he wants, “I wouldn’t want it to,” Then after another kiss, “Love you.”
Remus sighs into his mouth, his world aligning so he could be the orbit to Janus’ sun, the whole system correcting itself. “Yeah,” He holds him just a little bit tighter, “Love you, too.”
The Evergreen and Imagi were never quite in peacetime. Roman’s just trying to figure out how to survive and succeed his mother. Logan wants to live long enough to use his magic however he wants. Patton is coasting while repressing everything, still trying to figure out what feelings are.
Virgil doesn’t want to change the world.
Luckily, it isn’t up to him.
first | ao3 | prev
Chapter Summary: Dee and Virgil are both of the Evergreen. They don’t already know this.
Word count: 2658
Pairings: future lamp, platonic anxceit
~|~
When he finds Dee sitting innocently at his dining table with nothing but a cup of tea and a saucer in front of him, Virgil knows he knows.
“Did you know,” Dee starts, not looking up from his tea (Virgil can feel his barely contained glee from where he stands), “that Queen Valerie received quite the surprise this morning?”
He’s smirking like Virgil should already know. “No,” he attempts to shrug casually because it’s not technically a lie, “What surprise?”
“The queen certainly did not acquire a child,” His eyes light up, “And she really didn't get the twin fae child of the one you just cursed, no, she did not.” He laughs and practically spins out of his seat to get a good look at Virgil, effectively cutting off his path to his room. “Why didn’t you invite me on your hunt? We wouldn’t have had any fun together! There’s always something as good as some classic bonding, cursing unsuspecting humans, stealing children, you know!”
Virgil exhales a long breath through his nose, trying to move around the fae. “You are way too excited about this.”
“Well, it’s only what I haven’t wanted for years,” Dee tilts his head forward facetiously, an arm blocking his exit again, “Horrible of you to give me an early birthday present.”
Virgil gives up trying to get to his room and takes the seat Dee vacated, but then his brain catches up with what Dee just said. “Wait, I didn’t curse the kid, I cursed the queen.”
“According to the Seelie that just came from the outskirts, you definitely did not get the kid, and your magic is super stable,” Dee shrugs, moving his cup to the sink, practically fluttering his hands in joy. “The kid’s a bad mark, and if he grows up anything like his mother, you’ll be sorry you did it.”
Virgil looks at Dee, who is still grinning, genuinely ecstatic for the first time since Virgil’s met him, and thinks, maybe this isn’t the worst thing. If the queen does raise the child herself, he doesn’t have that much hope for the kid, and with King Cromwell under her thumb, it’s unlikely the kid will know what life outside the citadel looks like.
“I can see it now,” He says. The deal is composed of a thick cord that holds strong. Even tugging on it now, he feels the prince, crying alone in a nursery, and can’t believe he didn’t feel it before, “I should probably break it.”
“Sure, if you don’t want the death of a child on your hands. Magic doesn’t come with backlash.” Dee raises an eyebrow, and he hastily takes his hand back from the rope. “Besides there have been plenty of instinctive magic curses in fae history. It’s not like we don’t have the theory to even begin going about breaking it without killing you or the kid.”
He shakes his head and resolves to ignore the thing.
Dee is happy. It’s a shame, Virgil thinks. If what Virgil can recall about what he said is right, the young prince has twenty years to live, and nothing he does will affect the curse or change its course. It’s all up to Adelaide.
He doesn’t dwell on the seed of guilt that starts to grow in his stomach.
He doesn’t.
~|~
As much as he likes to focus on his misfortune, Virgil knows that when he can’t fix all his problems, it’s best to start with the ones he can handle.
The thing is, Dee’s right. His magic is unstable in that he doesn’t know what he already did with it or how to use it, and if he can’t learn to put some sort of a leash on it, he’ll be reliant on Dee forever, which isn’t ideal.
On the bright side, Dee seems delighted by the turn of events that is Virgil asking for magic lessons. They’ve started to learn to live with each other in the past couple weeks, Dee accommodating Virgil and teaching him how to do things around the estate, and Virgil carefully staying out of the way of Dee’s clients. This really is an extension of their preexisting lessons.
Dee starts them off by trying to figure out what sort of fae Virgil is. It would be going better if the only things he could talk about weren’t the way the plants lead him to Dee’s hide-away home in the Evergreen and the whole “curse” incident.
“How did you get away from a full ballroom of knights and iron? The queen wouldn’t have been extra careful with the presence of a child,” Dee has about seven books open trying to figure out what Virgil’s fae history is made of.
He shrugs, letting his shoulders slump in a little more, taking another bite of his food and ducking behind his bowl a little as Dee tosses another book to the side. “I heard the sound of breaking glass behind me? It sounded like your illusion breaking that first night we met, so I assume it was some kind of illusion magic. I just remember thinking I didn’t want them to see me leave. Illusions and plant-based magic are two very different things, though, so I don’t really understand how I would have both.”
Dee snorts, putting his own bowl down. “Even for a novice, you’ve got a horrible understanding of magic.” He brushes through his history of plant fae grimoire while frequently glancing from Virgil to the book. He turns the book so Virgil can see, “Match?”
Virgil looks at the portrait in the book of a fae with a wide face and a stubby nose and shakes his head. “I read a lot in the castle so I know a lot about magic. My mother’s collection told me about fae magic, but Adelaide’s collections taught me other kinds of magic. I moved most of her spellbooks and grimoires to my room, so even if the queen decides to go book burning, those would probably be safe. She probably doesn’t remember that I used to live in the west tower.”
The ache that comes with thinking about his old home isn’t new but he almost wishes the bittersweet feeling would go away. The castle always used to have the best view of the sunset and the most wonderful view of the full moon in the sky. Jam tarts were always a bonus too, especially when they got the ones with the special red jam. Those were things that made it really feel like home.
Dee turns the book around again. “This one?”
Virgil stops thinking about the castle.
The portrait shows an eager lady with sharp ears and elongated incisors and long silver blonde hair, about to pounce off the page. Her grin looks the same as his mother’s did before she hatched a plan to get them both in trouble. The manor staff used to hate that smile.
“That one,” he swallows down and clenches his fists to hold back the tremors he feels coming on, but it just sends sharp stings of pain through his palms. No one had told him about being part fae. No one even suggested it before Dee. If the queen knew, she surely wouldn’t have allowed Romulus to take him in. “Well, we know why about the plants now, though I’m not really sure how diluted my ancestry is,” He fiddles with the sleeves of his hoodie, and the hollow feeling in his chest persists. Enough fae blood to be fully realized by a deal gone awry, but not enough to affect him for the first 17 years of his human lived life.
Dee waves a hand and begins to put books away. “The real problem is that we know exactly why you have illusion powers like me,” The muttering increases as Virgil just sits at the table, head leaning against his palm watching as Dee pulls random books out at will, only to look through two or three pages and return them to the shelf. “Your existence as a fae makes complete sense.”
Today has already been too much, but at the very least they have a hint. “Thanks,” he replies dryly. “It’s not as though anyone told me there was a fae in my family tree somewhere. I would go back and look for the documentation if it didn’t mean getting captured and tortured for eternity for daring Adelaide.”
The scowl on Dee’s face makes him use an arm to cover the lower half of his face and stifle his snicker.
“Yes, you could go back, and all my hard work, gone, just like that?” The sarcasm is evident in his voice, as he shoots his judgmental gaze towards Virgil, “Stunning idea.”
“Nah, I think you like me too much to let me do that anyways,” Virgil openly smiles at the fae as he huffs and returns his attention to the shelves. “You do.”
“If the universe had not given you to me as a gift,” The light from the window glances off his yellow scales, making them glow, “You wouldn’t be dead right now. You would do well not to remember that.”
“Yeah,” Virgil rounds the table and plucks Dee’s bowl from where it sits, heading to the sink, “You like me.”
He doesn’t interrupt him, lets the grumbles fill the air, the only noises Dee can make without outright lying or telling the truth in the way he does.
Dee is a lot easier to understand than whatever the queen had going on, and they got on fairly well. Virgil doesn’t think it would be the worst thing to stick around for a while.
~|~
Watching Dee set up his tools for their first illusions lessons shouldn’t be as funny as it is. He left early that morning after breakfast with a cementing potion, tubes of sticking potion, and a basket of things he hadn’t let Virgil peak at.
When he’s finally allowed outside, he sees the monstrosities that Dee made in all their glory. There are trinkets of every sort pulled together from various places in the house that appear to be fashioned together into odd amalgamations. One is made up completely of porcelain doll legs in the shape of a duck and another is made up of small duck statues that have been organized into the shape of a person.
Ridiculous sculptures aside, Dee’s efforts come with a long lecture that Virgil only manages to absorb parts of.
“These won’t do for now, but the basis of this is you needn’t be able to maintain the same image in your head as the one you want to project as an illusion. It’s not like making the image in your head and turning it out of your brain to appear in the real world. Make sense?” Dee is looking very intently at the ducks while Julep watches amused from the sidelines.
Virgil frowns. “Is the correct answer yes?” He stares at the sculptures as if they will help him figure it out. “Because no.”
Sighing, Dee points at one of the ruinous creations, “When you look at that, what are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking about how weird it is that you own enough dolls to make a large duck out of their legs and how fucking weird you are for doing this. Why, what’s the point?”
He looks like he’s going to facepalm in a very undignified way for a moment. “Can you think of anything else besides the thing you’re looking at?”
Blinking at the creation, he thinks for a moment. How could anyone who had that in front of them not think about it? Then it hits him. That’s why he made these insane things. “You’re trying to improve my concentration on what I want the actual illusion to be.”
“You mustn't hold your concentration, or this won’t work. Try to focus on the statues, not an open field with flowers. Anything not like that.”
From where he sits with his eyes closed, he can feel the grass pulling up between his fingers and in the breeze. Imagining an empty field, he tries to picture what he thought of being in front of him. After a full minute of intense focus, he peeks one eye open, and Dee just waits, not saying anything. Nothing happened.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” He huffs, frustrated. He picks the dirt and grass out from under his nails, a wrinkle in his brow. “Turn the image, what does that even mean?”
“Don’t picture it in your head first,” Dee sits next to him and puts down the dangling chicken bone mobile he created. His back is straight and he rests his palms facing up on his knees. “Don’t take a deep breath, and forget to concentrate.” He moves his hands to the ground in front of him, “Now, don’t shift the image, like it's on a wheel from your mind, in front of your eyes.”
Virgil watches as between blinks, the things vanish from sight. He raises a hand to tap the illusion, then hesitates and looks to Dee for permission.
“Please don’t touch, it’s just so fragile,” Dee smirks and examines his nails.
The tap sounds exactly like tapping a glass of water or on a window. A bright sound rings out, but the illusion doesn’t break. More confident now, Virgil knocks on the glass, and the prairie scene stays playing in front of him.
“Honey, you’re gonna have to try softer than that to break it,” Dee picks up the shovel he brought with him to build his structures. “Watch and don’t learn a thing!” The fae laughs as he swings it full force at the illusion, spinning with the momentum of the turn.
The sound of breaking glass echoes through the field with his laughter, and Virgil can’t help his flinch, looking away so his eyes don't get hit with any of the glass. Nothing that comes his way feels like it hits him. In fact, the bits that do appear to hit him just vanish on impact. Curious, he runs his fingers along the edge of a piece that landed near him and startles as it melts into nothing the second he would have made contact with it.
Behind the illusion, a single duck falls off its structure from the hit of the shovel, but otherwise, the creations are unharmed by Dee’s magic.
“Illusions are weak until they are broken. You won’t learn in your own time,” Dee looks disappointed at the duck that fell off and tucks it in his pocket, though what for Virgil doesn’t know. “Not your turn!”
Virgil looks at the spot Dee had put his hand down and takes a deep breath, just like Dee told him. It’s hard not thinking about the statues in the yard, but he manages to make some sort of image in his head of an empty field. The wheel behind his eyes pulls the image over the image of the current field.
The turn feels strange but there’s something there. It leaks into his arms as he tries to put the image in front of him, and it feels like water running over his arms, uncomfortably smooth. He blinks his eyes open, and he’s completely dry, but he’s looking at an empty field. Well, a version of an empty field, anyways.
Dee clicks his tongue happily. The illusion is clearly the wrong time of day, the black of a night sky curling at the edges with sunlight, and as Dee flicks it with two fingers, it shatters. “For a first try, terrible.” It’s silly, but Dee grins just like Thomas would when he scored well on his chemistry assessments. “Now don’t do it again.”
Virgil puts his hands to the ground more confidently. He can do this however many times it takes to get it right.
The Evergreen and Imagi were never quite in peacetime. Roman’s just trying to figure out how to survive and succeed his mother. Logan wants to live long enough to use his magic however he wants. Patton is coasting while repressing everything, still trying to figure out what feelings are.
Virgil doesn’t want to change the world.
Luckily, it isn’t up to him.
first | ao3
Chapter Summary: Virgil has left the castle before but not this far, and certainly not like this.
Word count: 5812
Pairings: future lamp, platonic anxceit
~|~
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, when the land was still blessed with magic and the fae were both revered and feared in equal measure, there were four boys who lived in a castle.
Now, it’s important to remember that they lived in the castle, but at first, their time never really seemed to line up.
The first one, the one who lived there in the beginning, is named Virgil. He didn’t want to live in the castle, but since he no longer had a family, it made sense to just follow the will of what his parents wanted. The king seemed nice enough anyway, offering Virgil his own room and gifting him with a family portrait that had been painted years ago. Virgil hung it up with the same attitude one would scrape peanut butter off a slice of burnt toast to put back into the jar.
His journey starts with an order from the Queen.
~|~
When Virgil wakes up, he knows exactly what the day ahead looks like. The previous night had been full of fitful unrest, his heart jerking in his chest whenever he closed his eyes, the distinct feeling that he’s forgotten something tugging him out of bed and making him check his bag again and again.
Standing in front of his mirror, Virgil feels out of place. His armor weighs awkwardly unbalanced on his shoulders, the iron pauldrons uncomfortably loose. The pieces are special in their own right, the spares his father left behind on his last mission. It’s an honor, he has to remind himself, to walk the same path, even if it feels like anything but.
The shine of the metal contrasts the shadows under his eyes, dark circles growing darker every minute he keeps looking at himself. Blowing his bangs out of his eyes, he glares at his reflection. If he was his father, he would be able to don a proud smile, something reassuring. Instead, he looks like a poor imitation of a knight, like a child playing pretend.
It sends a roiling bitterness through his stomach.
Sighing, he tucks his blades into the sheaths on his belt. After a moment of hesitation, he tucks the dagger his mother gifted him into his belt. It’s the only one he has that isn’t made of iron, the only one that wouldn’t do damage to a fae creature. The queen mandated almost everything he wore, but this small addition would likely go unnoticed, just another knife on a fully kitted knight.
Almost-knight.
When he swallows, the man, the boy, in the mirror does the same. Seventeen, he thinks, is too young for a mission like this.
The queen had smiled saccharine sweet when she’d pulled him aside. She had come up with the perfect first mission she’d said.
Virgil had tried his best to hide his skeptical thoughts when she brought it up, but her eyes were sharp on his, her scrutinizing gaze looking through his soul. She just smiled like she could hear exactly what he was thinking and then, “My king, I believe it would do Virgil some good to prove himself,” and the king agreed, nodding placatingly, not really listening as the queen continued, “He should go alone.”
He could see the king visibly hesitate before she brushed a curl behind his ear and his eyes went blank. “Of course, my dear,” the royal simpered.
After years of living with her, he knows much better than to protest. No matter what he thought, he held his tongue, and he started his research.
In the days before his mother’s death, she had given him her collection of books on the Evergreen and the fae, and in the privacy of their home, she told him to keep them safe from Adelaide, to never let her see, and he followed her instructions to the letter. The books were safe in his room, unvisited and sequestered from her prying gaze, and gods know did she pry.
It’s like she can hear him when he thinks the slightest doubt, reaching for him even as he cringes away from her hands. When he was younger, she used to say it was affection, a hug from someone who could be considered a parent in the future. Now, she doesn’t sugarcoat it, a disapproving scowl covering her face as she tells him he should be grateful for any guidance she can offer. This journey was probably just another thing on the list for her.
When his father, the venerable Sir Linos, was alive, he loved his knights. They were the king’s knights back then, a group loyal to a man who would do anything for them in return for their service. In perspective, this audition for the queen’s knight’s felt bizarre.
Not only were solo missions for knights who already proved their mettle, this mission seemed more appropriate for knights like Adrien, who had probably sold their souls to be noticed by Adelaide, who would die for her sake.
Virgil is hardly sure he even wants to be a knight. The only reason he stands here today is to follow what his father wished for him back when he had been alive, aspirations to be knights to the same court, a legacy. When his father was alive, Virgil had been all for it, his head full of stories of how they would always ride together, never alone and never wanting for anything, carrying the symbols of the greatest of kingdoms.
The image seems sepia tinted, in retrospect, nostalgia on his father’s part coloring the narrative.
Virgil had done everything to get along with the other knights, and though they spared nothing in training him to fight, he knew they never really liked him. No matter how hard he fought or how good he got, they only ever saw him as the king’s ward, handed his position on a silver platter living a gold gilded life. He never seemed to measure up.
His hands shake as he does up the last knot in his vambraces, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t muster up a smile for the portrait of his parents, their family feeling like a distant memory at this point.
Their image looms overhead, and he barely recognizes the child that he was when the damn thing was painted. The small smile he wore, Virgil wishes he could do that again.
He takes a deep breath. The faster he leaves, the faster he would be able to come back.
As he gathers the last of his supplies, he gives his parents one last nod, he leaves the room.
If he does this right, he’ll be back before the week is up.
~|~
The map he painstakingly spent two nights copying from a book on the outskirts guides his path to a town a little over a day’s ride away from the castle border.
Julep, his horse, is taking her sweet time with the journey, but with how much reluctance Virgil has towards this particular trip, he thinks he can forgive her for it.
Despite his previous determination to get this mission over with as soon as possible, he had found himself dragging his heels his whole march to the stables. He usually loves to go visit the animals, the horses having long since endeared themselves to him.
Julep had come with him as just a pony when he first moved into the castle. As a gesture to him and his father, the king had offered to keep her in the stables until Virgil needed a horse for knightly duties, and he had agreed. She was his first real friend at the manor. The other horses had fallen into his heart when he found himself surrounded by knights ages older than him and no one his age to talk to.
She knows him well enough now that she can probably sense his dread about this town. As it is, the outskirts are pretty much the last border between the kingdom and the land of the fae, and he knows one toe into that territory would be an act of war.
Not only did Adelaide send him here, where she knows knights aren’t generally well received, she probably didn’t care that much if the fae decided he’d edged just a tad too close. Adelaide was known as the kindest queen the kingdom had ever seen only to those who didn’t actually live in the castle.
When King Cromwell had agreed to make him a ward, she had been welcoming, like he was a guest, but with his continued presence, she had maybe gotten too used to him. She treated him like one of the court, like he was a piece to be moved. While he didn’t like it, he figured so long as they tolerated each other, they would be fine.
He doubts the court really knows much about her beyond what she tried to show them, though.
She’s a walking nightmare to anyone who has actually spoken to her for more than a few seconds, outside of court. The sugar sweet tone in her voice is as fake as the company she chooses to keep around. She lays it on so thickly, he finds it hard to listen for long periods of time. The way the queen giggled at courtesan jokes while her own husband barely knew what was going on just didn’t sit right with him.
To make matters worse, creatures with most any kind of magical affinity flinched at the sight of her. Her distaste for the fae was no secret, made obvious by the magical borders she kept, the iron wall a statement of itself. Virgil had shuddered while passing them, and now in the outskirts, he found himself understanding what those walls looked like to those outside of it.
Approaching the town, the wall is just visible over the trees that lead him to a cleared path.
Refocusing on the task at hand, he considers his options for the mission. The creatures of the Evergreen aren’t well documented, to the point where though Virgil had read every book on the topic of them, he hadn’t come across any description of the fiend who was supposedly attacking nearby villages. Most of his mother’s books described creatures of the Evergreen as benevolent for the most part.
Knights didn’t generally go on missions with so many unknowns, guards usually doing at least some reconnaissance.
Still, he continues to ride into the quiet town. From the first second Julep crosses onto the main road, there is something off about the emptiness in the town. In the corner of his eye, he sees something blur past them.
“Hello?” He calls out, his voice quiet enough in the cool evening, but hopefully loud enough for the creature to hear. Dismounting carefully, the anxiety in his chest takes over as another blur catches his vision. His hand rests on his sword as he steps away from Julep, hopefully making himself a more appealing target than her. “Is anyone there?”
These houses don’t appear to be abandoned in any sort of hurry. For a ghost town, it seemed like one out of a painting. Everything had a place, from the ceramic jugs on people’s porches to the cobblestone main street. The discomfort moves to his throat, the silence unsettling.
Out of the woods at the edge of the village, the silence breaks, a faint rumbling sounding out. He squints at the border, taking a few steps forward, but before he can get closer, the creature reveals itself with a shrill scream, sending him scrambling back.
The large green monstrosity makes an entrance, knocking down a tree, landing just a few feet in front of him as it staggers unsteadily. It towers over the buildings in the village, swinging its head around erratically. It chooses it’s steps wildly, one leg stumbling over the other, all four legs hooved and coming down with little regard for the others.
From where the shock sent him to the ground, he can see the panic in the creature’s eyes and the strap high on its neck. It wasn’t attacking the village on purpose.
As much as the frantic thumping in his chest wants him to run, he feels something strange about the creature. Now that he is in front of it, it didn’t feel evil, nothing like the monsters the knights came home to brag about. Instead, it cries and wails like it wants as much to do with the situation as Virgil does.
He can hear Julep’s alarmed noises as he sheds his chestplate and scrambles back behind a building. Her whines sound out even as he shushes her. The creature staggers toward the sound, its eyes turning cloudy and its long pointed ears twitching forward.
“It’s blind,” he says shocked, slamming a hand over his mouth as it swings back toward him. Julep kicks a pot that was left out by the villagers and it moves away again, but she seems to realize just how much noise her hooves make as the creature lunges towards her.
The frantic nature of the attacks make sense now, if it had been able to see at some point, it would be panicking. His first goal is to get the strap off its neck. Maybe freeing it of whatever that thing was would make it calm.
“Keep going!” He calls to Julep and runs out to pull it’s attention back to him. Julep’s stomps draw its attention again and without his armor weighing him down, he takes a running leap at the creature's back.
It lurches it’s head backwards, snapping wildly at him with plant dull teeth, but he’s too fast to be caught. His hands scrape on the green scales, and while he is prepared for a fight, as soon as he reaches the black strap, it goes completely limp, its legs collapsing under itself and head hitting the ground too fast for it to be safe.
He pulls out his dagger and digs the tip under the sludge-like texture of the strap. The creature makes a pitiful noise lifting its head slightly before flopping down again. Julep comes up and noses her snout lightly against its nose. It snuffles at the gesture, like it might have been comforting and Virgil feels his chest swell with gratefulness for her. It takes a good chunk of time before every strand of the substance is released from its scales, especially with Virgil being extra careful to not touch it with his bare hands. He drags the strands away and makes sure they don’t latch on anywhere else.
When the creature is finally free, its eyes blink open and the white film that had been clouding them. It doesn’t try to attack as Virgil stands off its body. Instead, it nuzzles Julep back and extends its head towards Virgil. He takes off the glove on his hand and reaches it out slowly, giving the creature a chance to pull back. It doesn’t. It leans into his touch, closing its eyes and resting down.
Turning, it makes its way back towards the forest, it looks back at the two of them. Virgil leans on Julep, trying to figure out what to do with the slime, but looking up, the creature is standing expectantly, turning from the village to the woods.
“I can’t go in there,” Virgil scrunches up his eyebrows, unsure how to communicate this to something from the Evergreen. Did they even have english in the Evergreen? The creature rounds them easily, surprisingly maneuverable and agile now that the sludge is off. It elegantly nudges them in the direction of the border. “It’s not safe or legal for me to go there.”
It makes an urgent noise and pushes him further. Julep trots easily following the directions of the creature.
A noise that doesn’t come from any of them sounds out and the ground shakes again as the creature hits the ground behind them again. Virgil jerks away at the sight of a large wooden pole sticking up from between the creature’s scales. It had been so docile just moments ago, but now he can see the frantic look in its eyes as blood begins to leak from the side of its body. It makes the urgent noise again and tilts its head towards the forests.
At the end of the street, a house catches fire and calls sound out like signals, and he’s suddenly surrounded.
A man stands atop a nearby house and slides down the slates of the roof, landing in front of him. “Buddy, your orders said to kill the beast, huh? We just did your job for you,” His hair is greasy, slicked back, and his breaded, salacious grin makes him take a step back. “Looks like you owe us.”
Virgil desperately wants to go to the creature, but he can see the light draining out of it as it attempts to keep its eyes open. “We can talk about this,” He edges to the side with his hands out placatingly. “Just let me treat the creature. It doesn’t deserve to suffer. My orders were to take care of the beast, and that’s what I’m doing.”
He snorts, kicking the chestplate at his feet, Virgil’s armor, away from him as he backs up. “Uh huh. You’ve got quite the bounty on your head, royal. Hurry it up.” He lets him approach the creature.
“Hey, you’ve got to stay awake,” Virgil presses his fingers gently at its scales, flinching when the creature lets out an ear piercing shriek. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to help,” The blood is staining his hands red too quickly for the creature to make it through this.
He can feel the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, but he blinks them away in favor of leaning his head down to comfort the creature just as Julep had. If the man knows he is a royal, there isn’t a great chance either of them are coming out of this unscathed.
“It’s okay, you can rest. I’ll get you where you need to go.” The creature’s wounds glow as it closes its eyes, its blood slowing as flecks of white emerge from where it once bled. Virgil can feel the tension drain out from the creature and his eyes blur as the flecks coat his hands.
“Well, you definitely didn’t get that one right,” The man sneers. “And you won’t be going anywhere.” The blade cutting through his side is a shock to his system as he staggers up.
“What...” He rattles out, falling after a few steps as the blow really registers. “What have you done?” The cry that comes from his throat sounds nothing like himself, too gutted. Just like you, his brain interjects as he tries to clear his head enough to get up. He makes it to his knees before a blow to his shoulder puts him on his ass.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees another man taking aim at Julep, and all hope of escape leaves him. He whistles as loud as he can, Julep coming right towards him. Using his last remaining strength, he slings himself onto her back and holds a hand up to stop the arrow launched towards them. It shatters as it hits his still glowing palm, and he stares at it in shock. As Julep carries them into the Evergreen, he meets the eyes of the head honcho who killed the creature. In an act of defiance, he sticks up a glowing middle finger, and the trees block them all from view as a volley of arrows follow them.
~|~
He doesn’t know how long they ride when they stop. The sounds of a barrage of men following them stopped a while ago, and the whole time, Julep has been riding as steadily as she can as to not harm him more than he already is. The only reason she slows down is this clearing. There’s a stream with water, and a large open space to maybe treat the wounds he acquired.
He blinks his eyes open as she jostles them. It takes longer than maybe either of them wanted for him to get off her back. As soon as his feet touch the ground, his knees give, and if it weren’t for Julep, he would have collapsed.
Together, they approach the water, and just as he goes to dip in a hand, he sees the movement of a little creature swimming around. She curiously breeches the water at his small wave.
“Hi,” He swallows, struggling to make words as his pain overwhelms him momentarily, “Can I use this water to clean myself? I need to treat my wounds, but I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.”
His arms weaken and he can’t keep holding onto Julep. His whole body aches and he can’t see her anymore, but the little creature frantically pats his face with her water like hands.
“It’s okay,” he tries to reassure her gently. There’s probably not a chance he will live that long with injuries like this. It might be better at this point if he just didn’t accidentally harm her environment on top of that. “Hey, you can relax. Your water’s safe.”
Instead, he takes a moment to assess the glowing substance covering his hands. No longer pressing on his wound, the glow begins to leave them, the white dots flying into the air of the Evergreen, leaving him alone with the naiad.
He doesn’t notice his eyes have closed until she pulls on his hair and presses down on his eyelids until he blinks them open again. A chattering noise fills his ears as she summons some of the water from the stream to wrap around his middle.
“Thank you,” He smiles at her and she smiles back, but that look quickly changes as she dives back into the water, taking her water with her. Julep startles back behind him as well.
Out of the water on the other side of him, a large yellow snake has slithered in their direction. It slithers over his feet, sliding over the ground to study his wounds. Virgil can’t even manage a hand up to push it away. Instead, he lets the snake rest on his neck easily. The anxiety that should be welling up just isn’t there and even though he can feel his heartbeat rising, his head is clear, his thoughts still in the hopes that the snake doesn’t bite down.
He blinks, and where the snake was, a man stands and presses two fingers to his pulse.
“Weak enough, perhaps.” The mystery man frowns. “Who are you?” He asks. Virgil tries to focus on his face, but he can’t make out anything other than some blurriness in regards to the left side of his face.
“I’m,” He hesitates. He is in the Evergreen. This man might not be a man. Well, obvious, he was just a snake a moment ago. “You may call me Vee. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the border.”
The fae crouches next to him and shines and places a hand over his eyes. “Do you want to be saved?”
Virgil can’t figure out what was happening. If the books in the library were to be believed, fae were evil tricksters who would kill him in an instant. But here is a fae who had him dead to rights, and he wanted to know if he wanted to be saved? He’s confused, “Do you want to save me?”
The fae makes a frustrated noise at the question. “Can you answer the question?”
He really doesn’t have anything to lose. “I just want to make it out of this alive.”
There’s a pause, “That won’t do,” then the man pulls him up onto Julep and leads them away.
Virgil hopes he didn’t sign both of their death warrants.
~|~
He wakes up in short flashes at a time. Cataloging all his aches takes more brain power than he has to give at the moment, and he can’t quite open his eyes.
The first time he tries to sit up, tugging painfully at his wounds. He yelps and someone pushes him back down making shushing noises. They place a towel on his forehead and he goes easily with their direction. He absorbs approximately nothing about his surroundings.
The second time, he’s still out of it and someone’s at his side in the room.
“Are you awake?” His mind wrenches painfully at fully formed memories of a cold towel on his head and his father in the chair next to his bed. “Do you need anything, Vee?”
“Dad?” It’s out of his mouth before he really registers anything solidly.
“Quite.” The voice is familiar, amused, but not at the same time. It fades as he slips back under.
The third time, he wakes up slowly enough that opening his eyes doesn’t hurt. The memory of the slash in his side keeps him from moving too much, but he still looks around at what he can see from the safety of the bed.
The fae who found him must be really interested in books, he thinks, someone after his own heart, at the several dozens of books embedded in the shelf walls. It’s a beautiful set up, and from what titles he can see, they’re all about different types of magic and history. Virgil is just running a finger over the spine of one when the fae walks into the room.
“Are you actually awake this time?” he asks, studying him under a scrutinizing gaze.
Virgil takes in how he feels. His eyes, for once, are not fighting to close again and his body is holding him propped a little further up from laying down. “I’m awake, I think.”
The fae, upon further inspection appears to have little yellow scales that take up the right side of his face. His ears are pointed and his short brown hair is pinned back revealing a singular snake eye, slitted and yellow in the socket. He has a cape on even though they are indoors and there is no need. The longer he stares the more his memory starts to fill in.
“You’re the snake who saved me.”
Yellow scales shift in the light as he considers the statement and nods, “Can you read?”
“What’s with all the questions?” Virgil doesn’t want to seem ungrateful, but there’s a slew of things wrong with this situation. The first being that he can feel the muscles in his spine tightening from the discomfort of not knowing who the snake in front of him is and if the situation was bad enough to warrant panicking. He didn’t intend to die on this mission, but he didn’t dismiss the possibility either. He could be a new prisoner of war, if the queen was to be believed about the fae.
“I can’t lie.” The snake looks frustrated. “I can only say what I’m trying to say.” He makes an angry noise and makes a flipping motion with his hands. “Can you understand this?”
Virgil watches for a moment and it hits him that the hand sign for opposite looks extremely similar to the kingdom’s version of the hand sign. “You can only say the opposite of what you mean out loud?”
He nods with a sigh of relief. “Glad that hasn’t been sorted out. How do you feel?”
Taking a moment to take stock of his body, he can’t feel the wounds in his side at all. None of the skin where he knew he was hurt even seems to be pulling or irritated. “Strangely well,” he narrows his eyes at the fae standing in the doorway. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t have one of my friends come to take a look at it. You didn’t make a deal to help it along.” He smiles at him, and the part of him that has learned common sense says he should be feeling at least unnerved, but the part of him that made a deal with a fae says impulse control is the last of his issues recently.
“A deal?” He asks, to make certain.
“I didn’t complete the deal with your consent, but you didn’t want to live and so I made you a little bit like me.” His eyes furrow for a moment. “A little bit like me. That isn’t odd, I didn’t mean to say something else.”
Pulling up his shirt, he runs a hand over his smooth skin. There wasn’t even a scar leftover from the attack. No magic that looks like this comes without a price. “What was the catch?”
“To undo what I did, you must not find true love’s kiss. Until you receive it, you will not be immortal like me.”
Why true love’s kiss? What made him make the deal? He knows he was on death’s doorstep before waking up here, so there must be something. What did the fae gain? The fae didn’t make deals that didn’t benefit themselves, if the queen’s books were accurate. His mother’s collection didn’t include much on human appearing fae, just creatures.
He can see a knot on his pinky, the same one he wore his family crest on and looking down the cord of his first deal, a feeling of something like fondness entered him.
“Why did you help me?”
The fae pauses for a long moment. “What do you mean?”
“Why ask if I wanted to be saved? I remember being nearly saved by that water fae before you stumbled along. Why not just leave?” And the crux of the situation is, Virgil has been alone for a long time. He fended for himself since the queen started sending his father away on long, grueling missions. After his mother passed, he kept all of his more politically charged opinions a secret so as to not collect enemies. This fae, this random fae, had taken the time to help when not even humans would have approached him.
“I didn’t see what you did for Nellie,” The fae swallows. “We couldn’t touch her. The witch came by the other day and didn’t put that thing on her neck while she slept. It was…” He trails off. “You didn’t care.”
Good things don’t happen to him, though and he did what anyone else would do.
Like he can see it on his face, the fae continues, “Everyone would have done what you did. Storming a green-backed strider with only a dagger and a sword, not to kill it, but to help it isn’t anything special. Besides, the universe didn’t link us in some capacity because you weren’t going to be important to me.”
“Is that what this is?” Virgil studies the yellow yarn-like bond, thin and fragile on his hand.
“Yes,” the fae doesn’t elaborate, just smiles serenely. He clears his throat, “You may not call me Dee. You weren’t that out of it when I brought the two of you back, and I know how much you remember.”
Just like that, he realizes he forgot about Julep, the fool he was. His heart sets in his throat, “Is my horse okay?”
Dee snorts, “She’s not living in luxury, if you must know. It’s like she’s seen billions of sugar cubes in her life.”
Virgil finally relaxes into the sheets again. Julep is safe. He’s going to live forever, but that sounds like a tomorrow problem to his tired mind, his eyes blinking closed and his eyelids feeling heavier by the second.
“I won’t let you rest. We can’t talk more tomorrow.” Dee runs a hand over his head, the same way his father used to when he was ill, and walks out. Virgil tries to store as much of their conversation in his memory as possible before he sleeps, but it is lights out before he can save much of anything.
~|~
Healing hurts way more than he thinks it should. Frequent visits from the fae that Dee invited over, Kai, makes it so that the process is much faster than it would have been if he was alone.
Kai is snappy and funny and doesn’t know he’s a knight, and Virgil finds a way to joke a little with him every time he flinches and Kai looks like he wants to scream.
Dee sometimes checks on him and hums in approval. The only thing Virgil knows is it’s going much different than he’d imagined dying next to that river.
Bedridden as he is, he has too much time to think. Dee keeps him company when he panics, sometimes reaching a hand out where he can see it to get permission to rub his back. Sometimes they just sign back and forth, Virgil’s hands steady even when his chest shudders and his ribs ache, until he can relax enough to breath on his own.
Dee takes the times he’s conscious and sane to tell him stories about the Evergreen, even some about the creatures that Virgil had only seen drawn from his mother’s perspective, soft and unassuming, or in Adelaide’s books, their teeth too sharp and too hostile. In reality, there are cats in the Evergreen that curl up easily at his feet, normal teeth and all, their tails curling to flick happily when he has the energy to offer pets.
Large creatures like the one he saved in the abandoned town lean a head through the window and nudge at him, nice as the one who had tried to warn him. One of the smaller ones licks at him and huffs against him, Dee ushering it out the door as it playfully tries to evade him and get at Virgil. It’s cute. They’re all pretty cute actually.
It’s three days before his wounds close. Getting up is a freedom he doesn’t know he missed until he’s on his own two feet, shaky and smiling the whole time. Dee helps him take his first few steps around the room, letting the cats trot next to his ankles. When he gets the hang of it, he lets go and he does pretty okay, if he says so himself. It’s bittersweet.
He feels better in the Evergreen than he ever felt in the castle. It feels almost as if his energy is finally up after a long drought, like his heartbeat is steady for the first time. Even breathing feels easier here.
Dee laughs when he tells him that, saying it’s the way magic works in the Evergreen. It’s part of everyone and being near fae brings it to the surface, especially when humans made deals. That sits wrong with him, but he lets it be.
The next day, he says goodbye to all the creatures and Dee, setting back off towards the castle.
request for @littlemisschameleon for prompt 29. “how much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”
remus n virge friendship? Cept at a revel not class, if you wanna?
set in the maleficent au (which alex has had a peek at, reminder that i will start posting that tentatively in october!)
***
Sitting at the head of a revel is usually fun, if only for the fae who try to flatter his mother, but honestly, there aren’t a lot of suckers here on this moon. The only thing that strikes his notice is that for once, Vee has deigned to show his face at this revel without his usual parental authority.
Remus slinks up to the older fae while he picks up snacks from the tables set up at the edge of the festivities, making sure he isn’t noticed on his path. He pauses so that Vee can’t hear his breath, he stills behind his ear, whispering, “Boo.”
He doesn’t even fake a flinch, the corner of his mouth quirking, “Hello, Remus,” Rolling his eyes, Remus joins him at the edge of the crowd. “How are you enjoying the moon?”
“It’s detestable and I’m bored. How’d you know?” Gesturing to the path behind Vee, he pouts at his failed surprise.
“The grass,” Vee still isn’t looking at him. “You’re not stuck to Auntie Val’s side today?”
“No, nobody’s brave enough to try anything. I’m useless over there,” He can’t help but give in to the restless nudging at the back of his mind saying to do it, do something, please, please, do anything, I’m begging. “Hey, what would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of this revel?”
Vee sputters, “Are you fucking kidding me? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I will give you something to not do that.” Positioning himself between the prince and the snacks, he picks up a second pastry puff in his free hand. “If Dee were here, he would obliterate you. Do you know how long he spent on these?”
Remus snorts, “Like 12 minutes?” At Vee’s glare, he grumbles and twirls his mustache, looking away. “Not even if you pick up the pastries?”
“If I don’t pick them up are you going to do it anyways?”
He grins.
Grabbing the serving platter and making a break for it, Vee dashes back down the path that leads to his throne, “I’m telling Auntie Val this is your fault!”
“I’ll blame it on the kids!” Remus calls after him, taking bites out of all the remaining snacks and putting them back on the dishes.
He observes the party for a moment to find the best place to fling from, spying a group of fae children bouncing around to his left.
“Anyone up for a bite to eat?” He yells out, gaining cheers from the crowd as they danced and swayed, moon-drunk and happy, and with that, he launches the table upward, catching it before it hits the ground, cackling at the disgusted noises that rang out from the fae.
The sound of his name echoes through the party as Vee definitely finds his mother.
“Make a break for it!” He hears Vee’s voice on the leaves calling after him, and he’s already halfway through the woods to Dee’s house, cackling as branches erupt from the ground to propel him into the canopies where Val can’t see him.
“Thanks!” He calls back and trusts them to catch his feet as he keeps running.
rules of the game: ch. 7 - melt your headaches, call it home
Story Summary:
The Evergreen and Imagi were never quite in peacetime. Roman’s just trying to figure out how to survive and succeed his mother. Logan wants to live long enough to use his magic however he wants. Patton is coasting while repressing everything, still trying to figure out what feelings are.
Virgil doesn’t want to change the world.
Luckily, it isn’t up to him.
first | ao3 | prev
Chapter Summary: Learning the learning process.
Word count: 2484
Pairings: future lamp, platonic anxceit
~|~
“Now remember, Val isn’t still settling so she will be there if you go wandering off. If you don’t stick with me, who knows what could happen?”
Dee’s tone is light as he leads him further into the building, but Virgil can’t help the shudder that racks his spine as he follows him. It’s not like Dee has much to worry about, being a winter fae in a winter court. Virgil has done his research and being a spring isn’t likely to do him any favors here.
Building is a term he would use lightly, room even less so, the three walls towering over their heads, separating the space from the rest of the woods. The floor of the structure is marbled in an ice-like design that casts a light glow. Tall windows end somewhere in the sky, their edges pointing in tips, glinting in the light. The entrance is a gradual shift between the fields and the marble, like one second he could be walking in grass and the next he could skate along the floors.
At the end of the room, there is a singular throne. The cool marble travels upward to create the back, branches of wood curling to the arms and sides. Just looking at it, Virgil can feel the skin of his fingers itch to reach out, to touch.
Behind the throne, a spiral staircase leads into the sky, disappearing as the walls get cloudier. He stares upwards to try and see where it leads, but there’s nothing above it. Dee shoves an elbow in his side before he can get a better look.
“Unless you want to see Val angry, I wouldn’t suggest you take another step forward,” Dee tugs him back to his side. “I don’t understand that you’ve never been to a fae court before, but you definitely have been in a court before if your past isn't to be believed.”
With only a few feet between where he stands and the throne, Virgil can barely comprehend how he let his curiosity get the best of him. He deliberately takes a few steps back and locks his gaze to the floor. If Adelaide had seen him do something so audacious as to approach her throne while she wasn’t in the room, she would’ve done something worse than take his head off.
The fae queen didn’t seem to be that kind of ruler, but Dee is right. There’s no telling what she would do to him if she were to find out he was within a five feet radius of her throne. Sticking with Dee suddenly feels a lot easier with the context of Adelaide’s court thudding around his skull.
So, taking the gloved hand that tugged him back in his own and clearing his throat, he says, “I would feel better if I could just hang on to you for now, so I don’t,” He gestures around to the throne, “You know.” Awkwardly, he ducks his head down again so he doesn’t have to see Dee judging him.
Instead, Dee softens and offers him his arm, “This won’t be more comfortable. I can’t steer you in the right direction.” Smiling, Dee pulls him through an arch in the wall a little further away, he continues, “We aren’t almost where we need to go anyways.”
Virgil takes a deep breath, fits himself further into Dee’s side, and lets himself be led.
~|~
Dot hasn’t had a coffee all morning. In fact, she hasn’t had a coffee in five days because Larry refuses to get her one from the human town on the outskirts because he hasn’t found the perfect shop yet since their regular one closed.
To conclude, Dot is very, very tired.
She is so tired that the boy who is sticking to the side of her very good friend Dee gets her full attention as soon as he walks in the room. The poor thing is shifting his gaze awkwardly back and forth, skittish, clearly here under some sort of duress.
“Oh no, nope, no, I’m not having it, where did you find this kid, Dee? Did you kidnap him?” She nudges herself in between them, using her body to pull him away and set the small fae next to her desk, turning back to shoot a glare at Dee before she turns to him, “Did he kidnap you? Are you okay?”
When the kid just blinks at her, stunned from the fact that she had just moved him like he weighed as much as a feather, she rounds on Dee, who immediately puts both his hands up in surrender, his cane hanging off his thumb. “Can you define kidnap?” He smiles innocently at her enraged noise and moves his hands to block her strikes as she takes off her glove just to whack him with it.
“I’ve no time for your kidding, Lapointe!” She snaps as he backs up giggling.
“Uhh, Lapointe?” The tiny fae speaks for the first time since the pair entered the room. As what seems to be an afterthought, he adds, “And he didn’t kidnap me so much as make sure I couldn’t go back to where I was before.”
“On purpose,” Dee adds, like it would make his story any nicer. He dances out of the way as she reaches for him again.
“Of course you did,” Dot sighs and rubs at her temples. This would be so much easier to figure out with a single drop of coffee in her system. “So you’re okay with him?” Tiny fae nods. “Then what are you here for, Dee?”
“He doesn’t have plant ancestry and there’s nobody to teach him. I didn’t cover the magic I knew, but I do know the first thing about plant magic, so I wasn’t hoping you would know what to do.”
Dot considers the situation for a moment. The fae standing next to her desk had to be at least a teenager, fifteen years old easily. If Dee had taught him illusion magic and the fae had been able to replicate that magic, there would be no way he had plant magic.
Fae don’t really mix magic. In children born to two different magical backgrounds, they would receive an affinity for one or the other, not both. Even with that in mind, by Val’s decree, it would be impossible for a fae this old to never have been taught to use their magic until now. The children of this kingdom started early. Really early. Like, five years old, early.
“How old are you?” She settles on asking first because this onslaught of magical theory is probably not what he needs at the moment. “And what should I call you?”
“Vee, and I’m seventeen,” Vee fills in, shifting uncomfortably behind the table, eyeing Dee and the exit behind him.
Once more, she rounds on Dee. “Does Val know about him?” There’s no way someone withholding training from a fae for this long wouldn’t be punished. Forgetting how dangerous it was to keep a fae’s magic wild, it was abuse. By the looks of him, his ears hadn’t even pointed yet, so he mustn’t’ve had much time exposed to the Evergreen’s magic. Val would be furious enough to organize a hunt.
“She didn’t know since he came to live with me,” So he probably took care of the party in question, Vee’s answer about the kidnapping theory makes more sense now. She relaxes. Dee hesitates, “I wouldn’t like to train him as an apprentice if you agree to help him.”
“For your potions?” She pointedly looks at him over her glasses. He nods and taps his cane down. “Okay. So. Plant magic.” The lesson plans she has are for the younger fae in the kingdom, but she can teach an older kid. What’s a little more work anyways?
She’s already making a list of the materials she would need for an older fae. There are fae better suited for teaching older kids, but the kids they teach are usually versed in the magic they specialize in. There are so many people she would love to talk to about this, but with dual magics, it should probably stay private. It makes its way into her muttering and into her hands as she reaches for a notebook and pens.
Vee doesn’t look ready to bolt anymore, a little more relaxed now that she’s absorbed in her work. If he had any training earlier, there would be things to avoid. Especially from someone who purposefully kept him from the education he needed. Dot needs to know so much more about him to get the plans right.
“I’ll need to see Vee every day for the next week so I can plan properly to curate the lessons to his learning style,” Gathering her focus to talk to the two of them, she lets Vee get out from around her desk to get back to Dee. “Otherwise, you’re free to go. Tomorrow after lunch?”
At Dee’s nod, she gets back to work. Dual magic is wild. There isn’t a single fae in the forest with it. To start training a fae so much older would be difficult, but if she does this right, he will have both magics in full capacity without losing either affinity. Let no one say Dot isn’t ever up for a challenge.
~|~
Dee can hear the sound of a clock ticking time away in the back of his skull the longer Vee stays with Dot.
He’s been slowly but surely developing more fae traits, the tips of his ears curving up more, his hair turning a more violet color, and his two incisors elongating. It’s startling to see how much exposure to the Evergreen has affected him.
Dot has way too many questions, ones she only asks when Vee is out of earshot. If she didn’t care about Vee’s well-being so much, it would be annoying. She’s managed to figure out how to get him to stop flinching every time they come near him and he takes to her like a baby duck imprints on the first thing it sees. He lets her go with the assumption that Vee had been with some dastardly fae that he had stumbled upon by chance.
If people were to find out about where Vee really was from, riots would start for a bargaining chip on Adelaide, and if he knew Vee, and he did, the kid would offer in a minute. The last thing Vee needs is any more stress on his head.
As it stands, the magic lessons are also kept under tight wraps. There is no precedence for a fae with two types of magic. In fact, he’s gone through every ancestry book he has, and there hasn’t even been a case where a fae made a deal into two types of affinities. A normal fae couldn’t make deals into it as far as history dictates.
With his magic registers filling up the more he uses his magic, Vee is getting confident. The added benefit of going to court so often, he’s finding it easier to traverse the Evergreen without Dee. The clock gets louder every time he asks to go exploring on his own.
The cord connecting him to Vee gets heavier, too. The deal made Vee immortal, or it was supposed to replicate Dee’s own immortality, and as far as he’d seen, the only thing it had done was make Vee more fae. Guilt sits in him like a stone, heavy and unmoving.
His reasoning when he had found him was to keep him alive, but he hadn’t really known why at the time. He hadn’t been lying when he said Nellie had been a part of it, along with the mercenaries from Adelaide, but there had been something about him, fate or something equally nonsensical, that made Dee hesitate to go back inside. The naiads would have finished healing him, but Dee needed something from him.
He just knows he needed that something, whether it be company or maybe he saw potential or worse kindness, and that’s all. The cord is the brightest one, a beautiful, royal shade of purple, and it's the strongest of them as well. He doesn’t tell Vee about the feeling.
It doesn’t help that he looks so much like Linus.
Or that he talks so much like Thomas.
The work of true love’s kiss had maybe had a little to do with how much he reminded him of how things used to be.
Regardless, certain Vee’s going to leave as soon as Dot gets comfortable enough to trust him to use his own magic safely, Dee uses the time he has with Vee to teach him the basics of potion-making and how to recognize plants for the craft.
Not surprising with the groundwork that Dot has been laying, he picks it up like a duck to water. Even less surprising, the first thing he manages to summon successfully is catmint, smiling smugly from the floor as the cats surround him as Dee blocks the doorway so more cats don’t figure out what he has (a useless endeavor). The cats stay in the house for days.
Even the snakes have picked up on Dee’s perpetual insecurity of Vee’s leave. They hiss at his feet whenever he goes outside to drop Vee at Dot’s, or even when he supervises Vee’s interactions with the other animals of the forest. He can feel their judgement coming from where they gather in the library.
The inevitability comes after six months of daily training. There’s a clearing a half-hour’s ride away from Dee’s place that Vee has taken a fondness too, as well as a chicken who claims to own the place. It stands to reason he will take the cats with him.
Dee waves him off, telling him of course he can’t stay as long as he pleases and to never come visit, and Vee grins back at him saying he’d be over so much he would get sick of him, dad.
He putters around like he didn’t hear the title, but internally he registers it with a growing fondness for Vee and all the things that come with him. He considers all the names that belong to him, names that are as much a part of him as his hands, names he can’t have, all the names he gave up and the ones taken away from him, and to the end of that long list, tacks on father.
If Vee said it in jest or not, it doesn’t matter. Vee has added this name to his life.
Dee is fairly certain he will miss him dearly when he chooses to leave.
