The first time your Faerie Lover traces a pleasure sigil on your skin, it just feels like they're caressing your hip in little swirls... But then they whisper something and the entire shape gets warm and then, abruptly, makes you so sensitive that the next stroke pushes you over the edge, crying out as pleasure sears through you, more intense than you've ever felt before, leaving you brain dead and gasping, barely aware of their amused laughter as they bring you to the brink and force you over it again. And again.
The sigils are meant for use between fae, who can handle such intense sensations - but your Lover doesn't care that your human body is nearly breaking beneath the strain. And by the time they leave you the next morning, neither do you.
AN: I wrote this last year while I was in the mood for fall. I'm a bit late for Valentine's but here's some fluff (and smut later in part two)!
Word count: 1.6k
𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊Part Two (to be updated)𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊
"You are looking devilishly beautiful today, m'eudail."
"I appreciate it." You mutter, eyes scanning your surroundings for brown caps or yellow growths. After years of gathering, you have grown quite adept at it.
“Won’t you spare me even one glance?”
The autumnal rain serves as a wonderful humectant for mushrooms- they come bursting forth from the ground and wood in vivid browns, yellows and striking black, well, the edible ones at least. A few of the local birds migrate for the season, leaving the woods serenely quiet. In their place, papery field maple seeds dance through the air like a set of wings carrying invisible bodies. Shades of red and orange permeate the woods, and even though you have looked out at the sea of colour countless times, the intensity of their hue and atmosphere always takes your breath away at the beginning of the season. It is your favourite time of the year, and it would always be much more enjoyable if it weren’t for your buzzing companion.
“I attended the most wonderful ball the other day, yet it was sorely lacking in good company. Would that you were there-”
“Your kind would have made me dance to death. Literally.” You quip, hiking your skirt up and stepping over a dead log. Conversation, if you could even call the slinging of words between the two of you, comes as naturally as breathing to you in the presence of Aetyn. Your grandmother had warned you about their kind since you were but a babe, cautioning you against their trickery. You were glad that she had trained you on how to handle them as it came into good use whenever you came out to forage.
Never accept gifts. Don’t stare at them for extended periods of time. If you encounter one, be gracious but maintain a boundary. You leave offerings of cream and pasties out for them, and wear a bell in the ribbon tying your hair.
After years of being around Aetyn, however, you have come to doubt the veracity of several claims. In the beginning they had attempted to ensnare you in all sorts of ways, fairy rings, gifts in the form of decadent chocolates and precious gems, wordplay. It all flowed over you like water. You presume that they gave up after the first two autumns.
Early on, you had accidentally gazed at them. It was hard not to- they have fine features so different from those of humans. It was as if fae were sculpted from marble, perfect and polished. Their smooth skin, hooked and noble nose as well as their androgynous beauty caught your gaze like a fish to bait. Nothing happened to you though, they just stared at you quizzically and asked if they had something on their face. Nonetheless, you still remain slightly guarded around Aetyn.
“Aetyn, would you ever consider chasing after a more naive, vulnerable maiden?” He’s quiet for a few seconds. You can almost hear the little cogs turning in his head.
“...but they don’t have your sharp tongue, or your bewitching-”
With a gasp, you clamber over to a massive queen bolete, brushing leaves and dirt from its cap before plucking it, its stem breaking from the earth with a satisfying crunch. You place it into your basket among a handful of porcinis, morels and chanterelles. Before you can stand and continue, you notice Aetyn laying belly-down on the grass with their head in their hands, long pink hair ostentatiously trailing down their shoulder.
“You have a look in your eyes when you find a good one. You smile so wide-” they have a sparkle in their eyes, you think you see their legs kicking in the air
“You’re so pretty.”
For some reason, the compliment feels oddly genuine, different from the other pet names that he piles onto you. Sensing the heat rising up your neck you look away, fussing with the mushrooms in your basket and wandering off to the clearing ahead. You’ve gotten used to Aetyn’s careless flirtation- they had used it as a tactic to trick you so you never take it to heart. Something about the look in their eyes strikes a chord within you this time, though. A jumble of strange, foreign emotions stir in your chest, so preoccupied are you with your thoughts that you make a near fatal mistake.
“Be careful!”
Suddenly, an arm wraps around your midriff and tugs you backward. You’re leaned forward, torso tipped precariously over a circle of mushrooms. Gingerly, Aetyn gathers you into their arms, pulling you upright and a few steps away from the fairy ring.
“It wouldn’t do for you to fall into the snare of another fae now would it?” In the circle of their embrace, you are acutely aware of their body against yours even through your shirt and your coat. Your eyes are drawn to their lashes- pink just like their hair, so fair that you had never noticed just how long they were, fanning across their rosy cheeks. Aetyn’s gaze trails down the features of your face and lands on your mouth, hands sliding down your shoulders to your wrists. The feeling of his skin on yours is surprisingly humanlike, soft and comforting, but what ever made you think it would be otherwise? The urge to say something…or to do something-
A light ring and plink snaps you out of your reverie. Tearing your eyes away from them, you twist around to see your ribbon and bell on the ground. Aetyn steps away from you, the usual ease and gracefulness gone from their lithe body. They bend over, picking the delicate ribbon up. Your fringe has come loose, the two neat braids threaded to the back of your head by your grandmother undone.
“May I?” Aetyn pushes back the hair that obscures your vision. You nod, taking a seat on a cushion of brown leaves.
Their fingers carting through your hair are tender, deft as they expertly do up the braids and secure them once more. It feels…good. The warmth of their fingers, which you have watched pointing and gesturing many a time, seeps into your scalp. For once, the two of you are silent and you realise that you are wholly unaccustomed to the quiet whenever Aetyn is around. You’ve just grown used to their chatter like the tweeting of a little bird hovering over your shoulder.
“It is done.”
You are unable to see it, so you run a hand over the back of your head and feel the braids just as they were when you left home. They really are surprisingly good at it. Your tongue slips loose, from the intimacy in that moment or the fluttering in your chest, you do not know.
“Thank y-” You slap a hand over your mouth, unable to stop the panic from bubbling and frothing over. You look at Aetyn warily but regret it in the exact same moment, because you can see your distrust reflected in their eyes. The wide grin plastered onto their face falls and they look away from you. Whatever little shreds of trust that they’d hoped to have built up with you had blown away in the wind, they must think.
It’s the first time that you’ve seen them look hurt and the sight claws at your heart. A few moments of unbearable quiet pass before you dust off your skirt and pick up your basket.
“I-I think that’s all I need for today.”
As the both of you walk through the lush woods, your mind is racing. With just one move, you’ve upended any semblance of kinship you shared with Aetyn. What were you going to do? Do you even want to do anything about it?
Just as you near the bend leading to your home, you come to the panicked conclusion that it would be awful to end the day this way. Aetyn has had every opportunity to capture you with trickery today, yet spurned it each time. Considering the seasons of your…relationship, you feel like you have shunned them. Summoning courage, you take a deep breath before spinning around so abruptly that Aetyn jumps.
“Today…was nice.” you bumble, acutely aware of how awkwardly your mouth forms the syllables. Your free hand twists the fabric of your shirt hopelessly.
“It was nothing. I am honoured to have your company.” They respond politely with a smile, eyes downcast. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish for a few seconds before
“Th…Th-thank you!” As soon as the two words leave your mouth, you squeeze your eyes shut.
This is it. I’m sorry for being such a foolish girl, grandmama.
What feels like an eternity passes and yet, you haven’t somehow been turned into a beetle, or been bound to servitude to a diabolical fae for the rest of your meagre mortal life, or anything really. It was quite anticlimactic.
Instead, you feel a rush of warmth in the air and the bristle of tree branches bustling against their neighbours and the sweet call of a bird somewhere. And you hear laughter- Aetyn’s laughter, bright and rich which makes your chest brim with weight and ache.
Your eyes still closed, a hand tugs gently against the nape of your neck and a pair of feather-soft lips plant a kiss on your brow.
“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He cradles your face in his hands. You feel compelled to lean into them but you remain rooted in place.
“Thank you.”
You place your basket on the kitchen counter, moving to don your apron and get started on dinner when your grandmother shambles into the room with her cane in hand.
“That’s a pretty flower in your hair,” she squints through the glasses perched on her nose, “wherever did you find it at this time of year?”
A hand flies to the back of your head, fingers tangling with little stems and soft, small flowers tucked into your braids. Your heart beats like the wings of a hummingbird.
M Fae X GN (implied to be AFAB) reader, 7, 173 words.
I saw a post a while back about trading in a Fae market for a ring and becoming betrothed to the ring's owner and thought 'oh that looks interesting' and promptly did absolutely nothing with the idea. Until, that is, I read @monsterfolkandfiction's excellent story based on the same concept and got a plot bunny. Add that to @cozycryptidcorner talking about her own Faerie stories and, well, this was born!
This will be a multi-part enemies to lovers story, dealing with a human and their unexpected marriage to a Faerie. I really had fun writing it, so hopefully you enjoy reading it.
Content warning: this story contains implied parental abuse and forced marriage.
The Faerie Market was no place for an unsuspecting mortal.
Fortunately, you were far from unsuspecting.
The Faerie Market was beautiful in the way of a yawning cave or a tiger’s maw. Awe inspiring, but with that sickening sensation of ‘this could hurt me’ always lingering in the back of your mind. The Fair Folk called to you as you passed, with words like roses to hide thorny intentions. Their eyes rested heavy on your shoulders and back. A mortal, wandering right into their bargaining den was much like a mouse stumbling into a barn full of cats. They would rip you to shreds and have fun doing it. But if you were clever, if you were careful, you could make it out intact and advantaged.
So many of them were calling to you now that your head swam with their voices. The air was perfumed with a heady scent that almost had your mind reeling. All things designed to ensnare your senses, make you pliable. But there was one thought burning thought in the forefront of your mind that kept you sane. As long as you kept that tether, you could keep going.
You kept your gaze unfocused as you looked around. The Market was not just a place, but a consciousness. It knew what those who entered it were seeking. If you kept your mind open just enough, eventually it would guide you to the right place.
And just like that, you felt the unsettling pull of magic in your mind. Everything drifted further out of focus except for one stand- it was made from a tree bent up, then down into a table. The woman behind it had a flickering, inconsistent form. Through one eye, she looked like a wrinkled old woman; through the other, she was a young maiden. When you looked directly at her, the two forms layered, like trying to watch a 3D movie without the glasses. It made your head throb to look at. But the magic of the Market tugged at your feet and you approached regardless.
She smiled when she saw your approach. In both of her forms, her mouths were full of sharp teeth in rows like a shark’s. “Welcome.” Her voice rasped as it came out, gurgling in her throat and chest. “What brings a mortal like yourself here?”
The most important rule when interacting with the Fair Folk: be polite, but give no more information than required. You sat in the little chair by her stand, head dipped in a respectful greeting. “I wish to trade.”
Her smile widened. “Might I have the name of the person I’m trading with?”
An obvious play, but one you might have fallen for if you weren’t so careful. “I give my name to no one. But if you wish to address me, I can be called Sparrow.”
The Fae seemed only more delighted by your dodge. “So rare to find a clever mortal,” she said. “Such a good prize, too.” She smiled again, almost a leer. You looked back impassively. Rule number two: never be intimidated, or at least, never show it.
“I have come to trade,” you repeated. “Will you trade with me?”
The faintest flicker of disappointment crossed the Fae’s face. Good. You didn’t want to make her happy. Staying on task reduced the risk of anything bad happening. Keep control of the situation, only focus on what you were here to do, and stay calm.
“Very well,” she said with a little sniff. “What does a mortal have that could possibly interest one of the Fair Folk?”
You took a deep breath and reached into your pocket. Slowly, deliberately, you extended your hand dropped the object on the table.
It was simple. A gold band with a decent-sized diamond set into it. Nothing particularly special. But the Fae’s eyes lit up the moment they landed on it. “Hm.” She extended her hand, fingers scratching across the table just in front of the ring, like she was afraid to touch it. “An unwanted engagement?” she asked.
“It was arranged for me. I wish to be free of it,” you said. Your tone was measured, even. No displaying how desperate you were. Any sign of that would be seized upon and used against you.
The Fae examined the ring thoughtfully. In a human market, giving up the ring would do nothing more than earn you some money to run away- it wouldn’t stop your fiancé from tracking you down or your parents from attempting to drag you back. But in a Faerie Market, objects weren’t the only things that could be exchanged. If you could pawn off the ring, you could pawn the engagement as well.
“A rich man,” the Fae murmured. “A businessman. Yes, I can see this being popular with some of my clients.” She gave a sharkish grin. “Perhaps I could accept this.”
“If you have something I am interested in, we can trade,” you said. Her eyes narrowed a little. It was a display of power- you were reminding her that if you didn’t agree, if she didn’t have something you considered valuable as well, you wouldn’t trade. But she was interested. That was something. You could use the leverage.
“Such a small, mortal token won’t be enough to trade for most of my wares,” she said with a wave of her hands. “But I think I have a few objects that might interest you.” She placed a series of small boxes on the table and opened them at once with a flick of her fingers. Each one contained a circle of metal. “A ring for a ring, perhaps?”
You looked at them closely. Each ring was completely distinct from the other. One was silver, massively studded with diamonds like stars. Your skin prickled when you looked at it. It was dangerously ostentatious. Putting that on seemed a bad idea.
The ring next it was the opposite- it was a bronze band, nothing more, nothing less. Even the box it sat in was simple carved wood. Too simple. Too unassuming. Something as innocent-looking as that could only be dangerous in the hands of a Fae.
The three other rings were neither particularly ornate, nor terribly plain. One was a dark silver metal with an emerald set neatly in the center, one was a simple gold with several pearls arranged in a cluster, and the last one was nearly black, with rubies inset in the shape of a flower. You weren’t much of a jewelry expert, so you couldn’t tell how much any of them would be with monetarily. Not that it mattered much. The rings themselves weren’t as important as what they represented.
“These three,” you said, pushing away the two rings you’d rejected outright. “What of their worth makes them equal to my trade?”
The Fae leaned over the table, pushing the dark and emerald ring toward you. “This one comes from the deep woods. It ensures a long, fertile life. Near immortality, success with creative endeavors, an affinity toward plants.”
Your ears tingled at the ‘fertile’ bit. Hm. Fae tended to have a thing about the fertility of humans, and something about that was unsettling. You turned your gaze to the next ring. “This one?”
“Ah! This one is from a great sea, deep within its heart. The ocean will listen when you command. Water will be unable to harm you. Your command over it will be absolute, and the creatures within will understand your desires. A powerful gift, to have dominion over the seas.”
This one seemed… interesting. Though you’d never had much of a liking toward water. There was no fear there- you’d just never found it all that pleasant to be in. Your second concern was the power of the ring. Absolute command over the ocean? It didn’t seem like a commensurate trade for the engagement you offered, which meant there was something else going on. Too suspicious. You moved on to the final ring.
Sensing your attention shift, the Fae nudged the ring toward you. “This one is from the depths of the Earth. Fortune favors those who take it. You’ll find the odds tilt in your favor more often than not.”
Hm. Fortune wasn’t an uncommon Fae gift. Usually it was given to humans the Fae took a shine to, but sometimes a person could get it in a trade. The favor of fortune seemed like a safe enough gift, and one that was practically useful. All you needed was that little bit of extra luck to keep you safe from your parents deciding to betroth you to someone else.
Impulse and desire were dangerous things to have in the Fae Market, but you took the ring regardless. Instantly, the Fae snatched your ring from the table. Her mouth stretched into an enormous grin, and you were reminded of an eel or snake in the way her jaw stretched. “A favorable trade for both of us, I think. Place the ring on your finger and you will find your fortune substantially changed."
The way she said it made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Just as you’d opened your mouth to speak, a gust of wind blasted you in the face. When you opened your stinging eyes once more, the Fae was gone.
The ring box rested heavily in your hand. It was closed once more, though you didn’t remember closing it. Perhaps it was magic, but it almost seemed to burn into your palm.
You turned back to the Fae Market. The cacophony that had faded into the background when you’d been trading as back in full, pounding against your eardrums. Glancing at the stalls stirred a longing in your chest. Technically, you still had something to trade. You could keep going, trying your luck to get something better, something powerful-
No. you shook your head to dislodge the thought. It was dangerous enough to trade for an item that you knew the value of. All you knew about this ring was that a Fae had been willing to trade it for yours. You had no guarantee about what the value would be to anyone else. It was an easy way to get scammed out of something, or to get your hands on something that would screw you over. With another deep breath to keep your head squarely on your shoulders, you left the market.
Your skin prickled with nerves as you walked the long path back to your home. The last time you had left, you had been furiously protesting the marriage. Your mother had promised that, on your return, you would be locked in your room to await your marriage. With the engagement sold, your parents would have no reason to do so. Regardless, you didn’t plan to stay for long. Just enough time to gather your belongings, find a horse or carriage, and seize some money to flee.
The house was warmly lit when you entered. Hurriedly, you shucked your boots and cloak. It was quiet, still. With any luck, you’d be able to avoid your parents entirely and-
“You’re back.” There was barely a sound as your mother appeared around the corner. She wore her usual scowl, lines set deep into her forehead.
“I am,” you said, keeping your voice light. “I went for a walk. To clear my head.”
There was something in the way your mother was looking at you that made you unsettled. Sure, she didn’t like it when you went out on your own, but she seemed… angrier than usual. The idea that she still remembered the engagement flitted across your mind again. You batted it away. She couldn’t remember. She couldn’t, she couldn’t, she couldn-
A hand seized your upper arm. You tried to tug yourself away, but all you succeeded in doing was awkwardly wrenching yourself around in his grasp. Your father’s expression was just as hard-set as your mother’s, and he was holding on tight to you.
“What are you doing?” you asked. Panic made your voice shake as much as you tried to keep it steady. “I only went out for a walk! I don’t need-”
“I thought your return meant you had thought better of opposing the engagement. Apparently, I was wrong,” your mother said.
Engagement. Your head was spinning. Fuck. You had thought the engagement would be lost the instant you handed the ring over. It should have been! That was what you were trading!
Bewilderment and panic prevented you from fighting until you were nearly to your room, and by then, it was too little, too late. Your father tossed you in, sending you skidding across the wooden floor. Before you could even scramble back to your feet, the door banged shut. You threw yourself against it just in time to hear the heavy clunk of the lock sliding into place.
You slumped down the door. It would be logical to be crying, wailing, cursing everything that had led you to this point. But you couldn’t even manage tears. All you could do was breathe through the massive weight that pressed on your chest and think.
She had tricked you. That was the only explanation. Somehow, she had taken the ring and left the engagement intact. For what reason, you couldn’t say. Maybe she wanted a human-made ring, for whatever reason. Maybe she’d wanted to get rid of her wares quickly without needing to take on a mortal husband. Or maybe she had done it just to be a tricky asshole. The Fae were like that, sometimes. Incomprehensible to mortals and often straight-up dicks.
You shifted your attention to the ring box still in your hand. The same dark ring you’d traded for sat inside. Well, that was something. Maybe your fiancé would at least be annoyed you’d traded away his ring. You pulled it out of the little box and rotated it in your hand. It seemed to be the right size to fit you.
The ring was supposed to give you good fortune. You snorted. Right. Yeah. It seemed to be working well so far.
You rotated the ring back and forth, running your fingers along the smooth metal. Maybe you needed to be wearing it. That seemed to be how a lot of Fae goods operated. You could really use a bit of good luck right now. Then again, if you’d been tricked in the deal, you had no guarantee exactly what the ring did. Why trade a perfectly good Fae ring for just an ordinary human one unless there was something wrong with it?
She’d said it would cause good fortune. That, at least, must be true. The Fae couldn’t lie. Maybe it was one of those cursed objects that caused temporary good fortune and then brought bad luck in equal or greater measure. It was probably a bad idea to put it on. And yet, the temptation to just slip it on your finger was there.
All you needed was a tiny bit of good luck. Just something, enough to let you escape. Then you could throw the ring away and eat whatever bad luck came your way because of it. Once you were out, you could make your own luck. You just needed that one little spark to set things off.
With a deep breath, you slipped the ring on your finger.
Nothing changed. Not that you’d really been expecting a flash of light or a sudden shift. Fae gifts were usually more subtle than that. You gave another hurried glance around the room. There! Had that window been open a moment ago?
You scrambled over to it and thrust it fully open. There was just enough space to wriggle out, though your room was on the second floor. There was a bit of a drop. Not enough to kill, by any means, but an awkward landing would certainly snap your ankle.
The ring’s fortune seemed to be holding so far. Maybe you would have a lucky landing. You braced yourself against the window, then climbed mostly out of it. For a moment, you sat on the edge of the sill. You took the time to brace yourself, then pushed off from the window.
Your stomach lurched up into your throat as you fell. Instinctively, you squeezed your eyes shut and tensed for impact.
It didn’t come. At least, not the jarring sensation of hitting the ground feet-first. Instead, you landed in something softer, warm, and immediately recognizable. Someone had caught you in their arms.
Your eyes flew open, but you didn’t register the features of the person holding you. All you registered was that you’d been found out, you’d been caught, you needed to get away.
The arms released you. You half-fell onto the ground, your knees immediately buckling. Disoriented by both the fall and the unexpected intrusion of another person, you scrambled back toward the house. Once you were a small distance away, you were able to get a look at the person who had caught you.
You sort of wished it was one of the people who worked for your parents. You almost wished it had been your parents.
The person standing in front of you was not human.
He looked Fae, in that there was an odd ethereal quality to his presence. There was no actual mist, but you felt like he should have been shrouded in it. His robes, a pale silver, swirled around him in an absent breeze. He stood at least three inches taller thanks to his heeled boots. Bangles and bracelets dangled from his wrists.
Not just from two wrists. From his four wrists. He had four arms, one set in the normal position, the second set slightly below. His fingers were capped with claws, their color fading from the deep purple-gray of his skin to a charcoal black. A long, thin tail swayed casually behind him. From just above his eyebrows curved a ridged set of horns. They branched only an inch or so from where they sprouted, one line growing straight back and the other curving forward into a near-circle.
His eyes were striking. Even from more than a couple feet away, you could tell they were a brilliant ruby red. Looking at them was like staring at molten rock, dangerous but mesmerizing.
He cocked his head, twining a strand of his long black hair around his finger. “Quite a poor greeting for your fiancé, isn’t it?” His voice was softer than you’d expected, almost whispery. It made the back of your neck tingle.
“My fiancé?” you repeated, clambering to your feet.
“You made a trade.” the Fae said. His lower set of arms folded over his chest while the upper set made a shrugging gesture. “One ring for another. One fiancé for another.”
Your stomach sank to somewhere around your knees. Fuck. You were a complete idiot. A fair trade. You hadn’t traded a normal ring with a husband attached to get a magic ring. You’d traded your mortal engagement for a Fae one. A perfectly even trade.
As if to punctuate your mood, the thickly clouded sky opened up and rain fell in icy sheets.
“We should get inside,” he said, completely unperturbed. One of his lower hands extended toward you. “I am looking forward to meeting my inlaws.”
You were too stupefied to resist. His lower hand curled around your fingers, his upper hand resting on your shoulder. You could feel his claws resting delicately on your skin.
The Fae marched you around to the front of the house. The door swung open ahead of you and he stepped into the entranceway. “We’ll need towels,” he said, vaguely addressing one of the nearby servants. She dropped her unblinking gaze and hurried off toward the laundry room. Another one headed out in the opposite direction, presumably to fetch your parents.
“Hopefully you don’t catch your death of cold,” he said, his lips lifting into a sharp smile. “I would hate for my future spouse to leave me so soon.”
You glared back. “What do you want?”
“Want?” He tilted his head, his smile shrinking a little. “I wish to meet my intended, of course, and your lovely family.”
The idea of your parents being ‘lovely’ made you snort. “Yes, I’m sure a Fae has nothing better to do than galivanting around, snatching up unsuspecting mortals into marriage.”
He gave you a strange look, eyes narrowing, but the servant returned with the towels before he could say anything else. He took one and ran it over his head, somehow managing to navigate his horns with complete ease.
You’d just managed to get dry enough to stop dripping when your parents hurried into the hall. For half a second, you thought they would be surprised or confused by the inhuman presence next to you. But your mother immediately began gushing and your father stepped forward, hand extended for a shake. The Fae returned it with one of his upper arms, his lower ones folding close to his chest again. Fae magic. Whether he looked like a human to them or if the magic simply made engagement to a Fae seem normal, you weren’t sure, but you could expect no help from your parents.
So, same as normal, really.
“It’s really a pleasure to meet you in person,” your mother gushed. Her gaze fell on you and you could see the question form in her eyes. “I see you’ve already met our child.”
“Ah, yes. My future spouse seemed incredibly eager to meet me. I can’t say I’m not flattered.” He gave you a toothy smile. You forced yourself to return it. “But I’m afraid we’re thoroughly soaked. Might we freshen up before dinner?”
Your mother was still frowning suspiciously at you, but as long as your future husband was there, she wasn’t going to scold you. Small mercies. “Well, certainly. We have a guest room set aside, and I’m certain the servants can bring you something to change into-”
“Oh, come now. I’ll be married to this darling in a matter of days,” he said, gesturing to you. “Surely it matters little if we change in the same room. I am so looking forward to getting to know my fiancé. I’ve heard so many delightful things.”
Judging by the looks on your parents’ faces, they weren’t pleased. But they were also desperate to not offend your fiancé, and, after a moment of struggle, they caved. “Certainly,” your mother said. “I’m sure you can find your way there on your own.” The look she gave you indicated that if anything happened in that room, you would suffer for it.
The Fae hummed infuriatingly as he followed you to your room. He seemed to be having the time of his life. Even your agitation served only to amuse him further.
As soon as the door to your room was shut and bolted, you rounded on him. “Who are you?”
He placed one of his upper hands on his chest, his lower hands spread in a supplicating gesture. “Why, dear, I’m your fiancé! Your family recognized me just fine. Am I to understand that you don’t know me?”
“Cut the shit,” you hissed. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
He shrugged his lower shoulders as his upper hands busied themselves with undoing his clothes. “Perhaps.”
You pinched at the bridge of your nose. A headache was starting to throb at your temples. “You’re my fiancé,” you confirmed.
“As you are mine,” he said. “As I understand it, you traded one for another.” He grinned. “Quite an improvement, I think.”
“I was trying to escape an involuntary marriage, not find a new one!” you snarled. The Fae looked thoroughly unintimidated.
“The ring was a contract,” he said. “As soon as you put it on, we were bound to marry.”
You snatched the ring off your finger and tossed it at him. It bounced off his chest and rolled away. “Then I give it back! I don’t want this!”
For the first time, amusement completely vanished from his expression. You felt a sense of vicious satisfaction. “The contract was made as soon as you donned the ring,” he said. His tone was icy. “It cannot be rescinded.”
You ground your teeth. “Engagements can be broken.”
He gave a superior sniff. “Human engagements, perhaps. But Fae have ways of making things far more binding.” He turned and plucked the ring from the floor. “Removing the ring will not break our contract. Once you placed the ring on your finger, you were bound to marry me, as I was bound to marry you.” He took your hand and slipped the ring onto your left ring finger. His fingers were oddly warm around yours.
Perhaps the stress of the day was catching up to you, because you felt abruptly dizzy. Paying no mind to your still-soaked clothes, you collapsed on your bed. Your fiancé watched you, his tail swaying back and forth in a wide arc behind him. “Engagement between Fae are contracts,” he said, and his tone was incrementally softer. “Once it has been entered, there is no way for the participants to break it. The only solution is marriage.”
“What’s stopping me from leaving? Or just refusing to marry?” you asked. Your tone was belligerent, but you could feel your resolve faltering. There was no way it was that easy.
He gave a shrug, removing the last of his outer clothes and beginning to strip his undergarments. “I cannot assume my full title until I marry, and when you donned the ring, you tied yourself to me. I will be able to find you if you run, track you to the ends of the Earth, if I must. Neither of us are free to continue our lives until we marry.”
You licked your lips. “So, either I marry you or I spend the rest of my life being pursued by an angry Fae.”
He lifted a brow. “Be grateful. There are many Fae who would be more than willing to place you in captivity and starve you until you agreed to marry them or died.”
“So instead of killing me, you’re just going to trap me in a marriage I don’t want? Wow, you are generous,” you said, making your voice as sarcastic as possible. He gave you an unimpressed look.
“This marriage is a business arrangement,” he said. “We will be expected to work together. You will be expected to live with me, in the land of the Fair Folk. But I am not cruel, and I can make some… concessions to our arrangement. I do not expect monogamy, nor do I expect, for the most part, any physical components to our relationship. With certain exceptions, you will be able to spend your time mostly as you wish. I can provide riches and comforts for you. It will benefit you, and all I ask in return is your cooperation in certain… deals.”
You lifted your eyebrows. “Elaborate.”
“Business dealings, when working with those who cannot lie, can be difficult. I have little experience detecting lies, nor do I have a way to respond in kind. Having a mortal partner makes this… easier.”
You parsed that. “You want to marry a mortal so I can lie for you.”
His lips pressed together. “That is an oversimplification. There are other things mortals can be useful for. But yes, lying will be your primary duty.” He gave a vicious grin. “I expect you’ll not have much of a problem with that?”
You ignored his barb. “Why do I need to marry you, then? Can’t you just employ a mortal? It seems like it would be a lot easier.”
“Marriage is the oldest of contracts, and one of the deepest. It’s not just business. We tie our very lives together. It lessens the chances of you betraying me. A contract could be wriggled out of. Marriage is harder.”
“We’ll be married for business reasons, then.” Well, that wasn’t terribly different from the marriage you’d been trying to escape.
“As I said, I’m willing to be very lenient with the, mm, emotional aspects of our marriage,” he said. “There will be minimal obligations for physical romance, and none for emotional. As long as your loyalty remains primarily to me, you are free to pursue any other partners you wish. I shan’t stop you.”
“Minimal physical obligations?” you repeated. His nose wrinkled a little.
“It is likely we will be expected to produce a child at some point. And you’ll be expected to lie about the consummation of our marriage. But, as I said, I have no interest in forcing you to be with me. Only provide the proper business arrangements and I will be satisfied.”
You considered that. It was not, strictly speaking, a good deal. But it was better than the one you were escaping. No doubt that your prior spouse would have had as many dalliances as he pleased while insisting that you remain loyal to him alone. And you’d likely have been confined to the house and whatever tasks he wanted you to perform. This was at least an improvement.
“Fine,” you said. “I don’t have much of a choice, I suppose.”
“There’s always a choice,” the Fae hummed. “It’s just that some choices have more severe consequences than others.”
He slipped his underclothes off. Despite yourself, you stared. His four arms let to four well-defined pecs, and his toned stomach, while not exactly rippling with muscles, certainly wasn’t bad to look at. If he noticed you staring, he didn’t comment.
In an effort to clear your mind, you turned away and started changing yourself. “Am I going to have the pleasure of knowing my future husband’s name?”
You could hear his smile as he spoke. “I’m not that foolish. I know far better than to hand out my name to unsuspecting mortals. You may not have my true name. But, if you wish, you can call me Pelatio.”
He didn’t ask for your name in return. You assumed he already knew it. Keeping your back to him, you changed into your dry clothes.
Dinner was a strange affair. It was hardly quiet- both your parents talked animatedly with Pelatio, and he talked back, joking and smiling with ease. But it was all strangely empty. Pelatio spoke about business and land ownership vaguely enough that it sounded like he was talking about human affairs, and your parents deftly spoke about their pleasure at the prospect of marriage, making it sound like they were thrilled their child was going to be happy rather than just glad they’d made a fortuitous business arrangement. It was like watching a carefully constructed dance, where both parties remained within arm’s reach of the truth, but never close enough to touch.
Perhaps, you reflected as you plowed through your third glass of wine, you didn’t only need to be a Fae to get good at deceptive truth-telling. Maybe it was a trait of all upper-class assholes.
Unfortunately, your habit of getting wildly drunk in your youth meant that the wine at dinner wasn’t strong enough to make you anything more than mildly tipsy. Dizzy and disgruntled, you collapsed into bed as soon as you were close enough, and fell asleep without even changing your clothes.
The sunlight woke you, and you became almost immediately aware of a very annoying humming. Blinking against the burning rays, your gaze focused on Pelatio. He was flipping through an old, ratty notebook, humming to himself and wearing the most self-satisfied grin you’d ever seen.
“Glad you’re awake,” he said without so much at glancing as your face to confirm. “I’ve been reading this rather interesting tome I found in your desk drawer. Though, I would like to know how much of this is genuine. Did you truly drink a pint of liquor, then strip to your underclothes in front of the entire harvest festival?”
You scrambled to your feet. “Give that back.”
He handed it over with a smug expression, which you could only assume meant he’d read all of it already. “I merely wanted to know more about you, since you’re so delightfully withholding.”
“You could have asked,” you snapped.
“Mortals lie,” he said simply. “It’s a bit of an advantage you have over me. At least if I answer a question, you are guaranteed the truth.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’ll tell me the truth.”
“I can tell you nothing else,” he said. You gave him an irritated look as you tucked the diary back into your desk.
“Then tell me about yourself,” you said. “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”
His lips pulled back from his teeth in something between a smile and a sneer. “Get changed. We depart in two hours.” With that, he turned to head out of the room.
“You said you would tell the truth!” you called after him.
“I said if I answered,” Pelatio called over his shoulder. “I elected not to.”
That gave you enough material to cuss him out on the entire time you were getting changed. And it wasn’t a short process.
You couldn’t exactly say you were sad to be leaving your house, even if you were heading to a magical land of unknown dangers. Your mother fussed performatively, making sure that you were wearing a sufficiently warm cloak and all the rest. The sharp squeezes on your shoulder needed to verbal translation- don’t fuck this up. If only she was aware exactly how intensely you’d already fucked everything up.
Your future husband watched with no small amount of amusement as you detached yourself from your parents and walked over to him. “How terribly sweet. Are you certain you don’t want to spend more time with them?”
“Shut up,” you snapped through your teeth. He lifted a brow, but turned on his heel and gestured toward the great, dark carriage that had arrived moments ago.
It was clearly a Faerie carriage, from the strange, overly-elongated horses that pulled it to the fact that the inside was illuminated with no clear source of light. Neither of your parents seemed to care, if they could see it. They just waved you off, expressions cheery. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but there seemed to be more than a tinge of relief in their expressions.
The carriage door slammed shut once you and your fiancé were inside. With a rap on the wall, he started the carriage moving at a steady pace.
“Not sad to see them go?” he asked. You rolled your eyes at him.
“Not sad to see the people who sold me off like a piece of meat for the last time? What do you think?” Despite your brash tone, your voice gave the tiniest of quivers. Dammit. You shouldn't be sad- you’d spent most of your life trying to get away from them. And yet, your eyes felt hot and there was a strangling lump in your chest.
Pelatio looked at you for a moment, toying with the end of his sleeves. Finally, he reached into his pocket and thrust a handkerchief at you. “Here. I’ll hardly be pleased if you start getting tears on the upholstery.”
“I’m not going to cry,” you said, but you took the cloth anyway.
“If you say so.” He shrugged with both shoulders, then turned to gaze at the wall. You occupied yourself by absently folding the handkerchief into various shapes and trying not to think about anything at all.
The trip felt like it took hours and only a few minutes at the same time. It gave you the sensation of falling asleep and waking up knowing that hours had passed, but feeling like it had been no time at all. The disorienting feeling only got worse when Pelatio opened the door and helped you out.
The terrain was rocky, with only sparse bits of plant life jutting out from the ground. Not that you could see much of it. A mist so thick it was nearly a solid covered the land. Though it was only a short distance away, the manor was little more than a silhouette against the milky sky. You could see a few towers stretching up into the sky. The ground in front of the manor was split in a chasm that circled the entire location. Only a stone bridge allowed passage across the canyon.
“Take care not to go wandering without a guide,” Pelatio said as he strode toward his home. “It’s quite easy to get turned around here.”
Obviously, you thought, but you didn’t say it out loud. You merely followed him, taking in as much of the landscape as you could. There wasn’t really much to see. It was just an endless expanse of stone ground and white sky.
Up close, the manor appeared to be made out of obsidian. Pure black and almost frictionless to the touch, you felt reluctantly awed by it. At the very least, you would be living somewhere nice.
The front hall was dim, illuminated only by small red and yellow lights that floated around the ceiling. Pelatio shed his coat and tossed it aside. It was lifted away but some invisible force before it could touch the ground.
“Infuego!” Pelatio’s voice echoed down the great hall. The lights around the ceiling swirled in a tornado before disgorging a spurt of flame. It coiled to the ground in front of you, flickering and twisting until it formed a roughly-humanoid shape. There were no clear eyes in its face, but you got the sense it was looking at you. Pelatio waved his hand at it. “Now, now. Mortal-safe form, please.”
The fire flickered, like a guttering candle flame, then extinguished. Underneath the flames, they looked like a roughly normal human, to an extent. No extra arms or tail or strangely-shaped limbs. But their skin was strangely reflective, catching the light like a gemstone. Their hair was a mix of reds, yellows, and oranges, falling down their back in thick waves. It was their eyes that were the least human, because they had none. Their sockets were instead filled with flickering flames.
“Take my dear spouse up to the northeast wing. I assume everything’s prepared?” Infuego dipped their head in a tiny nod. “Wonderful. Go on.” He flapped all four of his hands at you in a dismissive gesture.
“Where are you going?” you asked. Despite not being particularly interested in spending time with him, you were still kind of insulted that he was ditching you the first instant he could.
“Wherever,” he said. “Lots to take care of, I’m certain. Don’t trouble yourself with it.” With no further elaboration, he strode through a doorway to your left and vanished.
“Come.” Infuego’s voice was quieter than you expected, and slightly raspy. “I will take you to your room.”
You followed them in silence, up a winding staircase and past halls with far too many portraits- most of them seemed to be of Pelatio or his family. You took pause at one in particular. It seemed to be of his family, his father and mother standing behind several children. Only one had the same crimson eyes as he did, though that was the only way you could recognize him. The wide, excited smile he had was a far cry from the sneering smirks that you’d seen on his face since you’d met him. Something in your chest gave the tiniest of pangs. Somehow, it was hard to imagine any Fae as a child, but clearly, he had been. Chubby-cheeked and cheerful. How strange.
Infuego led you to a large set of double doors. “This marks your portion of the house,” they said. “Only those who work and live here will be able to enter without your permission.” They pushed the doors open, then stepped back and gestured for you to enter.
You had expected your own room at best, but this was nearly large enough to be a full house. There was a small kitchen, a bedroom, some sort of office, a wonderfully large bathroom, and some sort of enclosed porch. “The master left the area mostly undecorated,” Infuego said, nodding toward the bare patches of the walls and shelves. “If you wish for anything to be brought to you, write it on that chalkboard and it will be provided.” They gestured to a blackboard set into the wall.
“Thank you,” you said, uncertain of what else to say. You glanced around your room, your gaze eventually falling on a gauzy white outfit that hung from your wardrobe. Clusters of pale flowers clung to the shoulders and fell down the back to make a lacy, train-like cape. Most of it was partially see-through, with only solid white straps protecting your modesty.
“Your wedding clothes,” Infuego said. “Try it on before bed tonight. Any adjustments will need to be made before the ceremony tomorrow.”
You started. “Tomorrow?” Infuego nodded. “Huh. Short engagement.”
“The master is not interested in being engaged. Only married. The ceremony will be short and simple, more for show than anything.”
“I though all Faeries appreciated a big party,” you said. Infuego shrugged.
“I have served the master for some time. As greatly as he may love extravagance, I believe he wants to get this particular ceremony over as quickly as possible.”
“What’s he so irritated about? He’s the one who wanted this wedding,” you said. Infuego looked at you. The swirling flames they had for eyes made it hard to read their expression, but you thought you detected pity.
“I appreciate your situation. You came to this marriage unwillingly, and anger at the master is understandable. But he has limited power in this situation as well. He is the youngest of his family, and in order to retain even a shred of the power his family holds, he must marry that which his parents demand. And they have requested he marry a mortal.”
The tiniest pang of pity swelled in your chest. For a moment, you saw that he was trapped, just as trapped as you were, forced by his parents into a marriage he didn’t want.
“He is not cruel. He will allow you a great deal of freedom. He does not want to trap you any more than he is trapped himself.” Infuego swept into a low bow. “Try on the clothes. I will wake and prepare you for the ceremony tomorrow.” They turned on their heel and strode out, the great doors swinging shut behind them.
You turned back to the clothes. There was still a tight twist of anger in your chest, but beneath it, you felt the tiniest stirrings of sorrow. Trapped as pawns of your parents, both of you. With a sigh, you gathered the outfit into your arms. There was nothing else to do. You would play along, and so would he, and within twenty-four hours, you would be wed.
Me: I could never walk willingly into a faery circle. That’s the kind of thing I most definitely, never in my life, would do. That’s so stupid. Same idiot level as a horny, horror movie character.
Fae: darling.
Me: As I was saying, I would 100% step into a faery circle with no hesitation what so ever.
The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.
Content: NSFW/Lemon; childhood friends, mentions of inflicted harm to reader (near drowning, scar on left upper arm), minor angst, allusions to death, growing fluff, hugging and intimate embraces, kissing, receiving oral, fading out/allusions to more NSFW - if there is anything else anyone would like added, let me know <3
Wordcount: 5292
Faebruary Summary: after abandoning your childhood home, the memory of your kelpie and your feelings for him draw you back
Notes: apologies for this being so delayed! I had some time off at the beginning of the year, but the lovely Cathair is finally here. I hope you love him! <3
Masterlist // Faebruary Masterlist
Gentle embraces left dark impressions on your back from grieving family; grieving in anticipation, as you travelled the miles to your hometown. Their farewells - certain they would be an eternal goodbye, rang as your only company the closer you came to your abandoned house near the valley.
Crowded by the creeping tree line, it rested abandoned for years. Only faint memory beckoned you through brambles to the smallest clearing, a far way from the closest bus stop, that itself farther from the train station.
Packing light hadn't eased the burden of returning, though you wouldn't stay long. The guise of wanting to pack up your old things would wane after several days, and if that hadn't yet exhausted you, the trial of rekindling what you remembered as more than friendship with the woodland kelpie would.
If he hadn't drowned you by then.
Somehow, your home still stood. Neglected and damaged but there all the same. Untouched without your needing to check: this land cursed by folk wasn't sought after. It had always been your family's, no matter how disputed by the creatures rarely emerging from their murky rivers.
Yet you went in the hopes of finding the kelpie. Your sister's wishing for your wellbeing manifested in delicately crafted charms. Blair's wards were useless against the likes of man-eating creatures, and only somewhat effective against true fae. It hung all the same, like the silver bridle fell at your kelpie's throat across the clearing.
It was only right for Cathair to guard his territory.
Standing before you like a daydream, the dark horse pawed with gnarled hooves before your old home. Too far to see the unforgettable glow in his blackened eyes, the glinting moss tangled in a thick mane danced in the soft wind. The sense of unease at being so close to him twisted your navel, though not from fear like it once had; from pain at seeing him after so long, and now wanting to flee.
With a deep dig at the damp earth, Cathair moved. Faint sunlight glinted along his flank, an eerie sheen forcing your stare down. Today, you wouldn't challenge him. Not so soon, with a low breath close enough to chill through to your bones.
Jagged teeth snapped not far from your shoulder: a warning, and one you wouldn't heed. He passed with a scent so familiar you nearly reached out, desperate for the rush of warmth his thin frame could bring when curled around you.
Instead, you settled for looking back when he left to the trees. "I missed you, Cathair."
With the swish of his tail, the faint scar on your left arm ached. The light of the clearing vanished into the woods too, away from you and nearer the body of deep water a short walk away; close enough someone could run off unnoticed. How cold it was rushed back to you. The emptiness beneath the surface drove you into the untouched house, onto old floorboards creaking with every step.
You had given yourself three days. Optimistic, Blair said. She gave you an hour, whispered onto your shoulder as she saw you off.
If he came near enough to question why, after so long hiding, after years of silence from disappearing late in the night, your excuse would be the same you told your family, though nobody believed it. You wondered if he would cling to the lie and hope you left again.
The same mess waited indoors, of scattered possessions too insignificant, left behind while the mark of a kelpie stung fresh on your arm, and his kin, your friend, chased you away as you ran.
If he came closer again, you would tell him the truth. That Cathair's brutality in defending you as you nearly drowned hadn't forced you away, but his family had. It was the fault of his brother for seeking you out and dragging you down the banks into cold water. Cathair saved you.
The fresh bedsheets almost smelled like him.
Coming home brought a sleep long into the morning. Even as a lie, you still began sifting through old diaries, some with handwriting far harder to read than the delicate script from your family. This curled and looped inconsistently, signed by the little boy with dark hair, always your shadow in photographs pinned to the pages.
The photos told the same stories of the friendship you remembered, while your sister preferred the safety of indoors until night, when the child with a smile wider and brighter than yours returned to the woods. They told of you both growing up, just out of reach of Cathair's family - before his brother came from the waters in his footsteps.
By the time your back ached from leaning over faded pages, it was late afternoon. The groove deep outside the threshold hadn't been crossed. Even left untouched, the figure lurking in the forest darted closer. Out of view, but there.
Here.
The empty bag on your shoulder swung when you reached for your phone, unsurprised to find the call from Blair. You'd told her of your arrival, reassuring her - and everyone she would then turn to, that you hadn't yet been stolen by fae folk.
Surviving the night was different, and her breath caught on the other end when you answered with, "I'm alive and unharmed. You can stop checking on me."
"Never," she said, her small, light laugh rushing over you. "Is it still standing?"
"Barely."
The doorframe held beneath your shoulder. Blair replied, something quiet and nonsense. This was all padding until she could pester for more and as she fretted, you looked to the sheen of moss along the kelpie's mane, cautiously stepping from the trees.
"Hello?"
"Sorry. I'm here," you said, and your sister cleared her throat.
Blair spoke softer, as though knowing where your focus drifted in the pause. "His necklace," she said and even through the trees, the slight reflection of the bridle glinted low on the kelpie's chest. "Have you broken him?"
"He doesn't need breaking. He never has." Her sigh followed yours. Cathair held steady among the trees as you came to stand further from the door, and a part of you hoped he heard as you said, "I trust him."
"You trust the kin of the kelpie who tried to drown you?"
His ears twitching may have been coincidence before, but the rising of his head couldn't be. Your stare held. "With my life."
There was little more to say to one another. They disapproved and you didn't care. The impasse was as old as you, so you promised to speak later - to reassure her that you were still alive with a promise you would be home soon, before shrugging your bag right and drawing in a breath.
"Cathair?"
Hooves stepped forth. Still not the form you wished for - not the sweet embrace, the lilting charm inherent in folk - but the dark horse revealing himself completely now still tripped your pulse.
"Hi," you whispered, quiet, but he heard as well as he heard your call, his tail whipping. "Is it just you? Not... not your family?"
His muzzle twisted. With the inherent threat, you had to swallow a laugh. It only lured you further from the safety of your home. This creature, this gentle kelpie responsible for saving your life, wouldn’t harm you, and still, the land hadn't disturbed your rest. A family of kelpies would've sought the first trespassing human out in a night, or less.
Cathair's head fell low. Yes. Only him.
Nothing betrayed the fate of his family, even as his ears continued twitching back. However they came to leave their land, whatever chased them or otherwise, it was well-deserved. Your deep scar ached as you reached to scratch it, drawing sharpened eyes before the shadows embraced enshrouded again.
Branches parted for his wide form and created a path you followed. It veered down to the water, the path well-trodden - one you remembered clear enough, from only one journey down - but you turned away.
Unfamiliar faces watched you walk through the town you once called home. The few you remembered, friends you thought of as family, like distant cousins, had followed yours in moving away from land plagued by folk, and you busied yourself in buying the supplies you needed for the rest of your stay, if not a little extra, too.
You were home within the hour, bag weighed down by fresh food, a small first aid kit - as a precaution, and a heavy bundle of meat in your arms. If there hadn't been a curled horse before your home, the fresh scent would've enticed him from the water.
"Did you miss me?" His head lifted, only enough to narrow at the bundle. The trembling energy tight in your stomach pulled you closer. "Did you think I'd leave so soon?"
Cathair rose, though you held steady; you had to. Muscles locked as the creature with unnatural jaws crept closer, your throat tight. Hot breaths fanned across your face, the kelpie standing well over you. Like this, the allure of his bridle made your fingers twitch.
If he were human, nothing would have stopped you from leaning into him.
Instead, you lifted your chin. "Want an apple?"
Dark ears twitched forward, a faint green to his coat enough for your fingers to curl against reaching for him. This close, even looking at his chain was a feat itself; any other kelpie would have reared back from the looming threat of subjugation. Extending your hand never made you fear an extra nip to your fingertips, but still, your breath caught. Only a slight lean closer and you would be near enough to snatch the bridle away, trapping him as he was now.
You wanted him back, not trapped.
One huff and the apple lifted from your palm, snatched by a jaw opening too far, flesh jagged like his teeth.
"You're welcome," you teased. His tail twitched but he didn't move. When his head lowered, you couldn't help smiling. Cathair nudged his muzzle against your empty palm, nickering softly. "If you come back later, there may be spare meat for you."
Reaching out had been ambitious. Cathair darted back before you could stroke his long mane and when he faded without turning, the constriction in your chest drew tighter.
Banishing him from your thoughts wasn't so easy now you were no longer far from him. Out of sight perhaps, but only minutes from where you fretted over long-settled dust. It passed the time, to trace old etches into walls from hours playing with your sister, until it darkened enough outside that a faint glow from beyond the door beckoned you.
That same glow haunted your nightmares after leaving, but soothed you again when you woke, finding comfort in the kelpie who had drawn you from the murky waters rather than sacrificing you to his kin.
That need for comfort ached through you and it had been long enough after forcing yourself to eat something that you reached for a jacket. Not one breath from closing the door at your back, Cathair distanced himself. Water clung to his coat with a tangling of water reeds, knotted and thick. His tail swished at your approach but the unmistakable flaring of his nostrils brought you closer, beginning to smile.
"Sit with me." Without looking to affirm what the coil in your stomach told you - that every scuffle of hooves was another further from you, the two wrapped bundles captivated him. "Please."
Before you, he wouldn't eat. Not like this and not the meat remaining bundled in its wrapping. Cathair joined you, though. Remaining a fair distance and so far your fingertips tingled, forced into your lap and busied by reaching for your snack, in the hope he would join you not like this.
Faced with a kelpie now, heat crept along your cheekbones. That Cathair came at all held you from retreating.
"My sister says hi," you began, picking at one half of the sandwiches, the one intended for you. His ears flicked. "They all do."
And it wasn’t a lie so much as a twisted truth. They missed being here, not necessarily him. Had the rush of hot air not been enough to signify his irritation, the short whinny was plenty. Best not to inform him of their predictions for your improbable journey home.
You pushed the bundle to your back and inched closer. "Have you been alone all this time? Is your family... are they gone?" Head lifting, he nickered as he had that afternoon and even quieter than him, you whispered, "thank you." For saving me.
Whatever laid at the bottom of his territory - whatever was left to, was none of your concern. The kelpie unsettled was, who only shivered worse at your nearing again.
"I wanted to visit. Often. If you had chased me away again," your jaw locked against the words. "It would have broken me, Cathair. Did you miss me, too?"
Not one twitch appeased you. Not one turn to his ears nor stretch of his torn muzzle eased the pang in your chest, thudding like a rib had cracked. The press of your fist into your stomach didn’t lessen it, either.
The curl to your lips wasn't much a smile, reaching your cheeks but not your eyes. Every forced breath scratched your throat. "It's late. Don't you ignore me, okay?"
He remained still while your muscles barely held beneath you. The bundle rested nearer him with every step towards the cabin.
And with every breath taken further from him, the truth in Blair's pleas for you to stay throbbed in your temples. How could you know if Cathair had wanted you to return? If the same kelpie who ensured you left his land longed for you, too, then his snapping jaws wouldn't have mirrored the jaws of his kin when dragging your drowning body under the surface.
If it was nothing more than a wilful fantasy, the soft groan at your back was a hallucination. Rougher pants and deeper grunts spurred your heart into a flurry. While he underwent a change so torturous you could only imagine, you clutched the doorframe with white knuckles for support.
Without an audible footstep, heat pressed to your back. Hastened breaths nestled against your hair, lips pressing to your crown. It strained your senses when he whispered your name, with his arms creeping around your waist and drawing you to him, back from the door.
Grooves to his palm tickled brushing to yours. Cathair slid his fingers down, and swayed when you softened to his chest. Turning as far as his shoulder, your kissed the pale skin, gently first, before returning the favour and stealing a breath of his scent.
Kelpies hardly changed far from humans, and he had been so alone. The embrace eased your tremors to little more than a whisper at his chest. "Will you come inside?"
He only hummed low, breathing, "no."
So simple, yet one syllable broke you. He held you from turning completely, his fingertips stroking the backs of your hands. "Why not?"
"No," he said. Large palms fell to run down your thighs and against your hips, binding you to him. Familiar muscle from his bare frame tensed and the press of a chain dug into your back. "Not alone with you."
Before you asked again, his touch flitted against your upper arm. The tracing of your scar left you paralysed long after his return into the woods.
No matter how far you dared venture along the same path he followed, no flitting shadow rose. No prints from hooves or bare feet led you to him but that scar ached how it never had before.
The softest touch from a window left open along your arm cradled you in your sleep, tricking you into believing he finally came to you. Old nights of the window opening wide enough for a slender frame to sneak indoors came to mind and the wind mimicked his embrace, careful, and always cold.
But he hadn't come inside. He wouldn't.
Little remained to sort through. Meaningless and pointless now to complete, yet you wasted the day sifting through them. Some - sketchbooks, usually - settled with smeared prints, like someone had traced where you had before leaving. You ran over the jagged edges left from torn pages, matching the paper you had rushed to carry away; portraits of him, old messages passed in notebooks. More pages were missing, though.
Maybe the faint scent lingering on old bedsheets hadn't been just wishful thoughts.
Only for fresh air, you cracked the door open late that night. To find bright eyes fixated on you frightened you back, staggering against the frame, forgetting in that second who watched.
He never faltered.
Guilt gnawed at you the longer you stood in the doorway, but you wouldn't go further with his heavy tail swishing, no doubt his sharp teeth bared if you approached now, so late.
"Cathair," you whispered, and his dark form moved with a trembling shudder. "I'll leave soon. Just... just come in, and sleep warm. I feel bad enough as it is." When fae folk made no move to come closer, you sighed and let the door close, calling, "goodnight."
Collapsing onto the cushions in the dark living room was followed by chills creeping over you. With the land of a kelpie came an unease, a familiarity haunting every sight. Not every night could be so peaceful and you tossed restlessly, until the first rap of the door felt more like your thoughts taunting you than reality.
For one, slow step indoors, your intended bed for the night hadn't been within his line of sight, but Cathair turned only to you. The door closed at his back and he crept closer, bare from the hips up - clad only in torn fabric hanging from his thighs, hardly covering him. Soft light cast a gentler glow on him now, along the dark hairs of his chest, the impression of bone ghosting his thin frame. You longed to touch him where you used to, along the curve of his collarbones, where you once toyed with his necklace without ever contemplating breaking him.
Blair would tell you to snatch it from him, to bring him to his knees. You would have him, your Cathair, then, but he wouldn’t be the same - not trapped and enslaved.
You couldn’t move. When he fell before you to his knees, a hand rising slowly, you relished in the familiar heat leaning over you. Moss-thickened hair framed sharp features, clinging to his pale flesh. Beneath that silken hair, thin slits to his neck flattened now on land. He touched your cheek with slow, deep breaths.
Then he softened, fingertips running down your throat. "You are too comfortable around me."
It was too late for an argument, any debate - and it would be a fight. You wouldn't stop until Cathair welcomed you like he used to, with his smile unnaturally wide and long arms curling you close, but now was too late, too dark in your moon-lit lounge.
This may have been the first time Cathair came through the door in your presence. It was unheard of for a kelpie to pine after a human, but to follow through; to slip into your bed and kiss you, careful to hide his daggered teeth, only enticed his family. It made you a challenge.
The cushion became your pillow after you kissed his palm and his touch fell back. With the room dark and your trust implicit, you closed your eyes. As hesitant as to your cheek, his fingertips fell down your waist.
"There is room for two here," you whispered. "Room for two in the bed. In our-"
His chest warmed beneath your cheek and with each careful stride nearer the bedroom once shared in secret, his heart beat harder under your temple. The weight of his bridle tucked near your crown, hanging heavy from his throat but you rested by his shoulder rather than risk hurting him.
"I do miss you," you said quietly. Your hand stroked down the slope of his chest, hugging him closer. “I really do.”
His breath warmed your cheek. "You're tired."
"Tired of wishing you stayed."
Cathair stiffened around you for the slightest moment. "I never left."
The first bend to his knees came and you made to lean back, only for a rough grunt to choke in his throat. He held you close until the bedsheets made space before laying you back, lingering only to tuck back your hair.
"Cathair-"
"Goodnight."
The lithe muscles to his back rippled at your fingers on his wrist. His arm to your lips made him swallow hard, the kiss softening just below his elbow, where the scar forever wounding your arm rested.
"Will you stay? Stay on the sofa."
He turned, a kiss returned to your palm, a hint of a small smile, before the bedroom door closed. The fleeting skim of teeth warmed your stomach in a rush of everything but fear.
You woke at the front door closing.
Blair, in the least, didn't approve. Your parents wouldn't be told of your late night visit, and you couldn't promise your sister it wouldn't happen again. Not as you tightened your coat around your chest and followed the path laid by hooves.
Thick boots couldn't steady you over damp earth and fallen leaves. With every step from your home, the woods quieted. Bird songs softened until your steps alone rang in the air.
That pool left you frozen, the creature within looking so much like another pale-bodied being that strength escaped you. Several years before, that cold water rushed into your lungs. How he could swim in it, live in it, reminded you of the nature of the man wading deeper.
And still, you would give anything to be with him again.
The figure waist-deep tilted his head. Thin hair floated with the murky water, rippling against the shadows of his lithe muscles.
"When will you leave?"
The invitation back indoors fell silent at your lips. Cathair held his palms where water ran, a glimmer from his chain against the surface. He strode deeper in your silence, up to his shoulders blades. Following him even into deserted waters, no matter your trust, couldn't happen today, and he crept to his throat.
"You said you would leave me again. Soon. So," he murmured, head tipping back, moss clinging to his crown. "Go."
Before he fell, before he returned to pretending you weren't here, you dug your feet deeper into the ground. "I'm here. You forced us out, too," you called, harsh and unsympathetic to the sudden locking of his muscles. "I wanted to be with you, Cathair. I want...” When your words trembled, the sting rose to blur your vision. "Send me away. I won't come back again."
Halfway home, your foot fell from a loose stone. The soft whisper of your name on the wind beckoned you back, though you continued until you could collapse on a bed he used to lay beside you on, aching to call Blair, though her patronising would worsen your suffering. Either you drowned or returned miserable and all you wanted was the kelpie hiding from you.
If he wouldn't come to you within the next days, you would be home in less than week. The fresh air walking to town spared you the time to torment yourself with thoughts of him, busy feigning passing smiles, hoping nobody would recognise you as the girl who nearly became a kelpie's prey; the girl who still wanted one.
Before dark, you rested surrounded by disorganized possessions that ought to be burned, lest you turn to them again for comfort. Some things you posted home that day, old scraps and photos, but there was nothing more you could do to busy yourself.
Nothing more to do than close your eyes against the trick of light nearing your home.
Still, he knocked, as though you would refuse him. You didn't answer, either way.
"Bags?" Hardly a step through the open bedroom door, he whispered and stilled. Careful touches flitted over the straps, following the abandoned pile of clothes for the journey home beside them. His body fell with all the grace of something other, cradling your loose scarf and bringing it to his face. When his eyes closed, your heart lurched.
"You're forcing me away again."
His shoulders hunched. The scarf muffled him before he clutched it in a tight fist, stroking the material. "This coming morning?"
As you intended, he flinched when you said, "I have no reason to stay."
Cathair came closer in the dim light, and you struggled to sit up faced with his sudden decision to cross the distance. He was bare, the pale of his body tinged, bar the necklace dangling down his chest. Your scarf fell now you were within his hold. When he reached out to you, his fingers were cold on your cheek, slender and running back to lift your head.
"I wanted you to have my bridle." Breath left you on a sharp rush, and Cathair pressed himself closer. He cradled your face and when his seemingly empty eyes found yours, he held you there. They glistened. "Before you left, it was to be yours."
The last time you had seen him, in the thick of night and holding back a cry, he hadn't spoken. You told yourself it must have been the same pain at being apart, that he would miss you just as much, then he never reached out, never replied to letters delivered here, so you fought to move on, too.
But looking at him now, fallen onto his knees and offering servitude, your heart broke for him. Cathair curled his fingers at your waist and clutched the thin slip when you turned, and he bowed his head to lean against your thighs.
"I don't blame you for that night," you said quietly. His shoulders rose with a sharp breath. His raven hair had the same shimmering to it as his body when you brushed back the thin strands, careful to avoid jostling him. "I trust you. I chose to befriend you, Cathair, and you saved me when your brother-"
"You left."
The scar on your arm throbbed with a phantom pain at the memory of sharp teeth catching at you. No human could dismount a kelpie, and Cathair swung to help, to fight off his brother, but dislodging you would leave you helpless again in a river of kelpies unable to swim with a wound so deep. Saving you from drowning first then protecting you, he had nothing to guilt himself for.
Then you left.
That same night he whinnied and rose from the riverbed as you ran. He followed not far behind, tail swishing fast until he turned and left you fleeing.
Cathair hardly reacted when you touched the thin bridle, but he lifted his head, eyes round and shadowed. "It is yours. Take it."
"I don't need the bridle to trust you. Unless you... unless you want to leave, to live out your life in that form, then I won't take it."
"Why?"
"I don't want to enslave you!"
His thin lips rose in an eerie semblance of a smile. "Why do you trust me?"
"Cathair," you whispered, and it was you reaching to frame his cold face, brushing your thumbs beneath his eyes. His lips turned to your wrist. "Why wouldn't I? I've loved you my whole life, and you've never once abused my trust. You've never once hurt me, tried to drown me or eat me-"
His teeth nicked at your wrist, though he was fast to kiss the soft skin again, a warmth in his voice when he spoke. "I could."
"You could. Do you want to?"
His body rose, leaning on his knees with large hands gentle on your thighs, before pressing his lips to yours. Tenderly, without moving for a breath when you held still, desperately trying to hold yourself back from scaring him away.
Cathair fell back with a soft thud. The brush of his hands upwards made you soften, but you mistook it for a way to hold you, not the question it was when his thumbs dipped and pressed your legs to part. He bowed low and brought his lips to your inner thigh, drawing in slow, steady breaths, before his lips softened on the thin fabric barring him from your body.
"Do you trust me?"
"With my life."
"I want to taste you."
With his touch guiding you, Cathair laid a warming hand to your stomach. He ushered you back, fingers tugging at your underwear until you were bare, your slip thrown away.
He trembled and lifted your thighs up to his shoulders, breathing deep, and the first kiss was experimental. He watched you tighten, your legs coming to press at his head until he returned low, guiding his hot kisses down before letting his tongue slip against you, and you cried his name. As you gasped now, it came different to when you spoke to him in the woods, with such power he himself groaned, and when he tasted you again, ran his nose up to nudge against your flushed nerves.
"You taste divine."
Rougher breaths flushed against your bare heat, awakening the heat molten in your navel. Like he knew, Cathair looked up, holding your desperate stare before his lips came around your flushing clit. Your hips bucked and he sucked, drawing a rough cry from your throat.
"That's it," he murmured. "Let me have you on my tongue."
Too flustered, too lost in the gentle touches, his hand running up your stomach to run against your breast made you arch into him. Cathair's soft laugh made you keen, his fingers teasing your nipple and rolling it beneath his thumb. The other hand, though it slipped your attention, too, began to stroke low, and his middle finger curled itself to the knuckle. Each crook of it had your stomach flipping, and he eased another, stroking against your tight walls until you whimpered.
"Please- I'm close-"
"I know, love," he whispered, and his fingers pressed you wide for his thick tongue to dip up, to taste you there. Tension tangled heavy in your stomach and he curled his fingers once more, the cold touch of a chain against your thigh a stark difference to how hot his breaths were, lapping with fire. "Show me how much you love me," he murmured, and his lips caught your bud of nerves as you screamed his name and your vision blurred. His sharp teeth grazed where you were most sensitive before chasing your release, kissing up your thighs and still moving his fingers in a way that had you unable to breathe properly. Cathair settled back and with your eyes on him, brought his slick fingers to his mouth, groaning. "You taste like heaven."
You fell back with a heavy head, and he came to lay by your side, soft lips to yours. The taste of you was thick on his tongue, and he laid over you with a hand smoothing back down your stomach. He held you close, his own body hot and pressing into yours.
"I want to stay," you whispered, and reached to bring him impossibly closer. "I want to stay here and be with you again."
Cathair's small smile warmed your heart. As you both curled back against the bed, the kelpie lost in touching your smooth skin, he took your lips again and promised, "I'll always stay with you."
In a land where everyone has a connection to a particular animal, you grow up with none. You watch your best friend bond with a tawny owl, another friend with a horse, others with cats, ravens, deer, but you feel no particular connection to any of them. Then one night on the full moon, feeling restless, you walk to the edge of the woods, not knowing why you’re drawn there.
Waiting for you is a mysterious figure who announces that you weren’t meant for this realm, and that they’ve come to take you home.
