A Gift from the Sidhe (Human!Cillian Murphy x Fairy!reader)
A/N: I know he’s the one that looks like he should be a fairy but let me live my dreams for a minute ok?
(Also sidhe is pronounced /shee/ according to google)
Summary: Cillian gets injured on a routine dog-walk in the woods, but when he wakes up, there’s no sign that anything even happened. He’s convinced that something mystical is afoot, and returns to the scene in search of something. He’s not at all ready for what he finds…
Word count: 7,759
Trigger Warnings/Tags: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, slight angst, not many warnings for this one tbh (please let me know if I missed any)
Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. I do not own any pictures used, nor do I claim to do so.
Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)
Cillian took a deep breath of the clear, icy air. He watched Scout pad about in the dead leaves, sniffing at a puddle before walking on. They had left the path behind a while ago, perhaps not the smartest decision, but he had been wandering these woods since he was a child. Except that one odd day when he was about twelve or thirteen… but he hadn’t thought about that in a long time.
It wasn’t really a thing in the first place. He had been traipsing about almost in this exact place, poking at things with sticks and chasing the old family dog. He had lost his way off the path but was unpanicked, childish naivete that everything would turn out alright. It was only when the sun had slowly begun its descent that he began to feel the desperate yearn for home and his mother and everything everyone must be doing by the cozy warmth of the heater while he was away.
He had wandered until the sun was almost level to the ground, long fingers of orange light creeping through the thickets of dark brown, bare, wintery trees. It was only now hitting that it would be dark soon, that he wasn’t allowed to be here in the dark.
But when he turned back, turned left, then right then in a full circle for good measure, he couldn’t recognise where he had come from. He walked first one way, then the other, then realised he had passed the same tree at least three times. Or maybe it wasn’t the same tree but a similar tree… The dog was happy to simply follow him around rather than be useful and help lead him back.
Hopelessness began settling on his chest like the weight of an illness, inescapable. He could feel the sudden need to cry, the burning behind the eyes and the cloying thickness in his throat. It all became too much when the dog suddenly began to bark.
He was staring where the woods were darkest, already losing themselves from the sun’s grasp. He was barking so loudly and aggressively that Cillian remembered stepping away from him. When Cillian looked at the spot in the woods, he noticed a little shimmer in the air. It was almost nothing at first, just a little glimmer in the air that could have been his own eyes blurring in the icy breeze. But the longer he looked, the more it occurred, shimmering colours appearing in shades of pale purple, blue, and tinges of green.
When he looked at it, he could almost hear music, as if playing somewhere far away so only the dregs were reaching him. Hauntingly beautiful music like nothing he had ever heard before or heard since. Like all types of flutes melding together, but also not. Like an ethereal voice humming and singing in a language he had never heard, but also not singing any words.
He had stared at the shimmer for a long time, listened to the music a while before he took a step toward it. The shimmer became stronger, more solid, as if it was a ripple in fabric, but when he took another step closer, it disappeared. He stood as if in a trance, shocked, unbelieving, but also peaceful, and in almost a dazed stupor.
The dog began barking again, loud and growling in between, and this time, just to the left of where the shimmer had been, Cillian saw a cat sitting politely. Its front paws were tucked neatly in front of it as it sat up, watching him with its head tilted, as any cat might do. Except it was unlike any cat he had ever seen.
It was huge, larger than any normal cat should be, with a long shaggy tail flicking up behind it. The weirdest thing about the cat was its colour. It was a dark green, so dark it was almost black. The green shone as its tail flicked back and forth and the light changed.
Cillian stepped closer, mesmerised by the beautiful creature that almost seemed to create its own light in the darkness. It stood onto all fours and began walking into the woods. It looked back just once, staring at Cillian, as if beckoning him to follow. He began walking after it, momentarily forgetting the dog still growling in the cat’s direction. He paused and grabbed the dog’s collar before continuing to follow the cat.
The creature led him through the woods and back to the path. It kept with him all the way to the edge, until he could run through the neighbourhoods and back into his own house to his worried mother so she could scold him.
At first he had told as many people as he could, about the shimmer and the cat, but everyone told him it was a trick of the light, a reaction to the stress, a normal cat that had coincidentally led him the right way and nothing more.
His Nan had been supportive. She had told him she believed him, that she was sure it had been the work of the Sidhe, perhaps a Cat Sí or a Púca. But over time the story had fizzled and so had the memory. He was only thinking about it now because of the location, nothing more.
Cillian looked around the woods once more, at the dark bark of the trees and the dry, dead, leafless branches reaching towards each other like a last grasp before death. He looked at the brown muddy ground and the wet, mulchy leaves, and realised he couldn’t see Scout anymore.
“Scout!” He called, hands beginning to tremble, head swivelling this way and that as he tried to catch a glimpse of her black fur anywhere. Only the wind whistled in response.
Cillian clutched the leash tightly in one hand and ran the other through his hair. He began on a swift jog forward, looking here and there, calling out for Scout with no response. He went deeper and deeper into the woods, where the trees became thicker and clumped together so he had to slow down into a walk to avoid slamming into them.
“Scout!” He was yelling desperately now, voice tearing at his throat. He was huffing and puffing, freckled cheeks turning red and lips dry. He was sweating under his thick waterproof coat, black hoodie and t-shirt, but he kept on forward.
He didn’t realise until he was mid-slip that he had begun to fall. His foot went squelching onto the mud, glided over the top, and took his leg out from under him.
“Ah!” He yelled as he hit the forest floor, loud and pained as he felt the cold from the dirt and mud begin to seep through his joggers. Twigs and sticks dug into his back and arms. He was winded, dazed, incapable of movement. His limbs felt mushy and numb. His back throbbed like… like he had just been whacked onto the floor.
He blinked his eyes once, twice, but the sky still spun and blurred above him. Black began tinging the edges of his vision, tempting him to the sweet release of sleep. He blinked hurriedly, groaning as he twitched with all the pain. His hip pulsed, and he clenched his eyes shut.
For just a moment, one splash of a moment, before the sweet suddenness of sleep bathed him, he thought he heard the music again.
Cillian woke with a gasp. His eyes shot open and he sat up, the way people in movies return from the dead. His heart was racing, he could almost feel it against the bones of his ribcage.
It was dark outside, so dark he could almost mistake his surroundings for being the backs of his eyelids. But the mood was out, bright and clear, creating the silvery edges and outlines of the trees. The air was icy and felt wonderful and rejuvenating in his lungs.
He could feel Scout snuffling against his legs, slowly moving her way up his body to gently nudge at his face. He pressed his cheek against her, wrapping his arms around her and sighing in relief. She was safe, alive.
It took only another moment for him to freeze in shock because… he felt no pain. Not a sting, not a twinge or an ache. Nothing! If anything, he felt fresher than he had done before the walk, like he had the perfect amount of rest. He stood up, testing for shakiness but feeling nothing except the sureness of his limbs. He patted himself down, brushed down his joggers, only to realise he was completely clean. No mud on his jacket, no brush of dirt or even a twig in his hair.
But… but he had slipped in mud. He had felt the cold splash of it on his shoes, socks, ankles. He had felt cold of it seep into his back, smear against his neck. He had felt the twigs tangling his hair. Now he looked rather well put-together.
Cillian frowned into the dark, straining his ears but not knowing what he was listening for. He clipped the leash back onto Scout’s collar and gripped it tight. He looked in the direction of the moon then checked the little compass on his watch. If he kept North, he would soon hit the edge of the woods and he could follow the perimeter back to the carpark.
Cillian paused for only a moment more. He squinted in the opposite direction of his route. He had seen a light, a little throb or flash, as if emitting from the ground-up. But nothing appeared again and he shook his head as if shaking off the distractions, and began steadily northward.
He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing back here. Though he had felt this intense need to go back, perhaps curiosity or something worse, tugging at his insides, telling him to return to the woods, to return to the deep quiet and explore something untouched that he had seemed to graze briefly, he had also told himself that he would not.
He was a responsible, mature, sane adult. It was dangerous to be traipsing about deep in the woods all alone. While Ireland didn’t have any dangerous wild animals (other than the occasionally errant deer or brave fox), many other things could go wrong and leave him for dead. As it had almost done. Before some thing had intervened. And he desperately needed to know what that thing was. It had to be something worse than simple ‘curiosity’ sitting in his bones.
So here he was now, back at the place where the path ended, at first light, the entire day ahead of him to explore. Most likely to find nothing. But maybe… just maybe.
The sun was only just beginning to rise. Everything was still bathed in that gradient from dark shadow to grey, watery, just-before-dawn light. He sipped from his tumbler of coffee, sighing happily as the hot bitterness warmed him through. Though he still felt fresh from the evening before (somehow), he knew he would need the boost.
He was on a blind mission, searching for something he didn’t know nor understand, something he had the vague sight of, the vague sound of, nothing more.
Cillian walked slowly through the forest, watching the sun slowly come up and creep through the branches, first orange like tiger lilies, then yellow like daffodils. It was a beautiful day, clear skies of blue and a slightly milder temperature than the day before.
Cillian traversed slowly as the day dragged on. He had a backpack stuffed with food, water, a blanket for when he wanted a rest, and even a book if he was feeling particularly bored. He paused once, close to midday, to have a bite to eat and rest his legs, but he walked as long as he possibly could.
He had reached the thicker trees at some point in the afternoon. The places where humans had rarely been, where one had to twist and turn to get over roots and between trees. Where the sunlight struggled to enter and left the floor cold and perpetually wet.
In all that time, he had seen nothing. Heard nothing. No shimmer, not even a glimmer. He was surrounded by brown, occasionally blinded by the sun with a dazzle of colours, but it was not the same, not tinged with that otherworldly quality. Not a single flute or ethereal sound carried over. There was barely even the sound of a bird, just the occasional chirp that made him sigh with disappointment.
He was beginning to feel stupid. Embarrassment at having bothered with this childish endeavour burned at his cheeks and the intense desire to turn around and leave almost succeeded in its influence over him. He was already beginning to berate himself over such a waste of a day.
Without realising it, he had reached the deepest part of the woods, just past the place where he had slipped and fallen. The gnarled branches of the trees were so entangled here that they created a terrifying latticed canopy overhead, trapping whomever and whatever into the forest. Not even the birds dared venture here.
The sun had begun to set, little dapples of orange light swimming through the canopy where they could. He began blinking his eyes, as if the dark had set upon him like a surprise attack, and he paused. He clutched the straps of his bag and took a moment to look around.
He couldn’t see very far, but the trees looked somehow… fresher here. Though they were still bare and leafless, they seemed to thrum with life. When he leaned against one for a moment’s rest, it was almost warm to the touch. He pulled back and stared at it, reaching out and pressing his hand to it once more. He was right, it was warm, like the base was filled with lit coals and left to gently heat up the entire tree.
A flash of light at a distance beyond the tree caught his eye and he peeked around it. The flash had been rapid, quicker than even that of a camera. But he remembered it from the night before, the pale purpley blues, the rise as if it came from the ground up. He pressed himself tighter to the tray and watched.
The flash came again, and he was certain of it now. He had seen it with his own eyes. A mushroom ring in the distance, somehow bright and perfect even in the dead of winter, seemed to light up from the centre for barely a moment, a pulse. Then there was a gasp behind him. Cillian whirled around, eyes wide, and pressed himself back against the tree. Right in front of him stood… you.
Everything about you was… otherworldly. He could only describe it as a glow. You glowed. You created your own light in the deep dark woods, a soft something that emanated from your skin. Your hair was thick and shiny, your eyes sparkled, and you were dressed in clothes that couldn’t have even been executed by the most high-end of fashion houses.
But your eyes were wide in shock and terror, and one of your hands was clasped over your mouth as if to silence yourself. And though you didn’t shake, you looked like you could flutter away with a strong gust of wind.
Cillian couldn’t breathe. He felt light-headed as he pressed himself back against the tree and panted, continuing to simply stare at you. His hands rubbed roughly against the treebark and a sheen of sweat had appeared over his body.
“You cannot be here!” You gasped out, rushing over to him and gently grasping his shoulders. He shook in your grip as you pulled him away from the tree and began dragging him deeper into the woods but farther away from the glowing ring of mushrooms.
You were strong somehow. You weren’t grasping him too tightly, nor putting much pressure on him, and you looked so delicate, but somehow he was being whisked along quickly with you, his feet barely able to keep up. He looked down only to find you barefoot.
Once the glowing had become distant, you stopped and whirled on him. You reached out with both hands, almost as if you would touch him gently with your palms, but then you clenched them and pulled them back into your chest. You began to pace back and forth, shaking your head and muttering to yourself in a quiet voice.
“You cannot be here. How are you here?” You finally asked him, staring at him as if he was the odd creature and not you. Cillian gulped, wetting his lips a little as he stared at you.
“I came looking,” he answered simply, still breathless. “After yesterday.” You stilled and stared into his eyes, so intense and unnerving, but then you began to pace again, shaking your head and chewing on your knuckles a little as you mumbled.
“I should not be here, you should not be here. I will be caught, I will be exiled, I will be… ruined.” You clenched your eyes shut and took a deep shuddering breath in before looking at him. You looked beautiful even in your terror.
“I found your pup last evening,” you told him quietly, knowing that this must be why he was here. For answers. “Or rather, your pup found me. I had been sent for some winter herbs, and the poor thing came whining and snuffling up to me. I was worried for him. But when I laid a hand on his head, I saw you, lying in the mud, eyes closed. He led me to you, practically dragged me, the demanding thing.”
You rubbed at your cheek as you told him the story, continuing to stare into his eyes with unnerving intensity. Cillian had begun to relax a little where he stood, shoulders slumping and breath returning to a normal pace.
“For a moment I thought you were one of us.” You stepped a little closer, cautious, and reached up as if to press your palm to his heart, but stopped a few inches away. “Are you… one of us?” Your brows furrowed as you asked, as if you didn’t expect him to say yes but there was the chance he might. But Cillian shook his head, feeling incapable of speech. “Hm, I thought so,” you said quietly, shaking your head again.
“I may not be the strongest of my kind, but I can heal better than any,” you told him confidently, and finally pressed your hand to his chest. His chin dipped so he could stare down at your hand, but he was overcome with a feeling of warmth.
It was like waking up without an alarm to the coziest and warmest bed, feeling refreshed and awake and alive beyond belief. Not even a fresh cup of coffee could induce this feeling. He stared at you, dazed yet not, aware and alive but not buzzing. You smiled, pulling your hand away and clutching it close to yourself.
“I was worried at first. How did a human manage to come so deep into our woods? It’s not unheard of but it is not common either. We… we are not supposed to have contact with your kind,” you quietened at the last part, dipping your head in embarrassment, as if he would scold you for confessing this. “But I could not leave you there, cold and hurt.” You looked up at him again, eyes soft and concerned. “I simply could not. So I healed you and left you to rest so that you would only wake come morning, and you would not see me nor our land.”
You gnawed at your lip, fiddling with your fingers as you peeked around the tree and looked back in the direction of the glowing mushroom ring.
“You should not know. No, no, no. You should not know about the ring entrance, nor should you know about us. No, no, no,” you were mumbling to yourself again, now fiddling with the hem of your skirt. Then you glanced up at him again. “Where is your pup?”
“Back home, at my house I mean,” he answered, stumbling over his words a little. He still couldn’t stop staring at you.
“She is pretty,” you told him simply, nodding your head as if to confirm it. “And she is a good pup,” you added.
“Yes she is,” and he smiled a little at your kind words. Now it was your turn to stop and simply watch him. You were enraptured by his smile, and you stepped a little closer, almost beginning to invade his space. You reached up and gently touched his cheek where it pulled in for his smile. He must have sidhe blood in him somewhere. It could not be that a plain human was so… captivating.
“Are you sure you’re not one of us?” You asked breathlessly. His cheeks turned pink as he shook his head again, slowly this time so he wouldn’t dislodge your hand from his face.
“Quite sure.” And you nodded again but didn’t move away.
“I should wipe your memory,” you whispered, “and I should ensure you leave here and never come back.”
Cillian straightened at that, eyes widening as he shook his head. He reached up and grasped your wrist softly. You were trembling under his grip, but looking at you, no one would have been able to tell.
“Please don’t do that. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” You just continued staring at him, hand pressed against his cheek. He sounded so sincere, but were you willing to take the risk? “Please.” He was whispering now, eyes blazing as he met your gaze.
“Why?” You asked quietly, brows furrowing, and you pulled your hand away from his face and stepped back, watching him with both curiosity and wariness. And then Cillian told you about that night so long ago, so similar to the one he had experienced the day before, where one of your kind rescued him. Your eyes seemed to change as he told you, shining even more somehow, and your lips pulled into a soft smile as you nodded. You looked proud.
“Alright,” you finally breathed out when he had finished his story and the two of you had elapsed into silence. “You may… you may be allowed to remember.” You were hesitant, but your words were final. You could not take them back now, and you could not take back the responsibility you had accepted in allowing a human to know. “But-but you may not come back here!” You added quickly, staring into his eyes again with that unnerving intensity. “I cannot allow such a risk.” He nodded and you fell into a shared quiet again.
Then, after another moment had passed, you stepped closer. So close that your front pressed firmly to his and the both of you shared the same air. Both of your hands came up and you gently caressed the spaces under his eyes with your fingertips, delicate and almost ticklish. Wherever he had freckles, you gently pressed, as if each little fleck was a button.
Cillian trembled, breaths shaking as they pressed out against your face. His hands were clenched at his sides, but they itched to grab you, to press you even closer. He felt like his head was submerged, and everything had this weird glowy and hazy quality. He wondered if this was what people on LSD saw. It was only now that he realised you smelt like flowers. Like fresh beautiful flowers straight from spring. He was intoxicated.
“But,” you whispered then, gulping a little, your breaths brushing his lips as you spoke. “If you wished to see me again, you could… you could come to the boundary. The place where the woods thicken.” He was warm all over even in the depth of winter.
“Yes,” he breathed out. “Yes, please. Could I come again tomorrow?”
You grinned, bashful yet excited, and nodded. Then you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek, soft and lingering. Then you pulled away and disappeared in the blink of an eye, and with you, the distant glow in the woods.
Cillian stood leaning against the tree as reality began to set back in. He stared around him as if he couldn’t quite believe he was alive, and patted himself down to make sure there was no life-threatening injury that was making him hallucinate. But… nothing. He felt fresh, alive, and forever changed.
At sunset the next day, Cillian was standing at what you had called the boundary. He could see it now, the place where the trees became thicker and tangled, as if warning people not to venture further. It would have been easy to overlook if one was distracted, but now that he was searching for it, it was clear as day.
He didn’t bring a bag this time, just himself wrapped in a scarf, and he paced back and forth as he waited for you to appear, his hands shoved in his pockets and cold puffs of air turning into clouds in front of him. Though he had seen you yesterday, seen the mushroom ring aglow, he needed you to come back. A part of him still didn’t believe it, and your presence would prove to him once and for all that what he had seen was the truth.
And if nothing else, he wanted to see you. You, this otherworldly creature that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. You seemed to have no sense of physical boundaries, invading his space when you wished, touching his face as if you two were intimate lovers. But you were also so nervous, twitchy, apprehensive in every bone of your body. A walking contradiction tinged with magic. He needed to see you again if it was the last thing he did.
When only the last rays of the sun touched the sky, he felt a tap on his shoulder. There you were, shy and looking around him to the forest beyond the boundary. You had a shawl draped over your shoulders this time, a shiny silky thing that somehow looked even more delicate than silk itself.
“I have never stepped foot out of the boundary,” you told him quietly, gazing over his shoulder to the place where the trees distanced themselves a little. You didn’t venture past the thick roots, and instead stepped further back into the dense trees. “If we stay here, no one should find us.”
Cillian nodded, and all he could do was stare at you. You held the edges of the shawl in both hands and wrapped it close around you, rubbing the edges together as you looked at him from under your eyelashes.
“Why did you agree to this?” He finally asked, rubbing at his cheek as he watched you. You paused for a moment before speaking, looking into the distance before refocusing your eyes on him.
“I am curious,” you said it in a hushed way, as if you had uttered something wrong. “Just as you do not see us, we do not see you. We are not meant to interact with you. But… but you are the first human I have ever met, ever seen, and I wish to know more about you and your kind.”
You then leaned over and gently rubbed your fingers over his coat. You did it again, frowning at the material before trying to pinch it between your fingertips. “What is this that you wear?”
“A coat?” He looked down at you quizzically, but you just continued frowning at it.
“But… why?” You were poking and prodding him now, pressing as far as you could until you felt his firm body underneath.
“For the cold,” he answered in a huffing laugh.
“You get cold?” You asked, tilting your head like a confused puppy. Cillian’s eyebrows raised as another incredulous huff of laughter left him.
“Yes, very.”
“Huh,” you nodded, running your finger up the line of the zipper. “I suppose we have ‘coats’ too,” you shrugged, “but none as puffy as this one.”
“Do you not get cold?” He asked, watching your hands discover his pockets. You delved into them without a second thought, giggling a little when you felt his hands in there as well.
“No, never!” You said hurriedly, looking at him with wide eyes as if he had something insane. “If one of us gets cold, it means our souls are beginning to leave this life for the next.”
“Oh,” he answered simply, nodding then falling silent as you picked an old receipt out from under where his hands were cosily tucked. You unfurled it, rubbed it between your fingers, then crumpled it again and pressed it back where it had been. Cillian couldn’t help but chuckle. You looked up at him with a little smile, as if you were confused why he was laughing but you simply wanted to laugh with him too.
“What’s your name?” He asked quietly as you continued standing that close to him (despite not having your hands in his pockets anymore).
“Y/n,” you responded, looking up at him again and gently running the tip of your index finger down the length of his nose. “Do all humans look as pretty as you do?” You asked softly, then watched as a red flush began spreading up his neck. He laughed nervously, looking away from you as he reached up and scratched at the back of his head.
“Heh, um, I’m not sure,” he answered awkwardly, blinking quickly before looking back down at you. But you were smiling that beautiful smile of yours and it almost hurt to look at you, like looking directly into a star.
“You did not say your name,” you told him after a moment of silence, stepping back and watching him take a deep breath in. You swung onto your toes then back onto your heels again and again.
“Cillian,” he responded, and he watched you pause mid-swing, lips parting as you stared up at him.
“Oh,” you sighed, “that is a pretty name. That is a sidhe name.” You shuffled closer again, as if you couldn’t spend too long being farther than a hand’s breadth from him.
“It is?” He asked in a whisper.
“Yes,” you reached up and gently stroked his hair, “one of our kings from long ago was named Cillian.” He nodded a little, not enough to disrupt the motion of your hand on his head. It was calming, and if you did it for much longer he would fall asleep at your feet like a cat.
“Will you tell me more about your land?” He asked softly, and now it was his turn to stare deep into your eyes. Though you were looking up at his hair, you smiled and nodded.
“Our people say you have stories about us. Is that true?” You asked, draping both your arms over his shoulders and simply standing there.
“Yes, many, from all over the world,” he nodded along with his words, smiling a little as he thought of his own childhood, his grandmother sitting by the fire, him and his siblings all curled up under a blanket and listening to her tell stories about the sidhe. “But no one really believes them. Children, maybe, but they grow out of that too.” You hummed softly and nodded.
“We have stories about you too, about how your people only want to use ours for what we can do. How we must stay in hiding to protect all of us.” Cillian frowned a little at that, but your expression didn’t change and his melted back into that expression of quiet awe he carried since meeting you.
“Why are you not afraid of me then?” He whispered, gently reaching up to caress your hair in return. You closed your eyes at the feeling, humming a little. The glow around you seemed to pulse at that a little and he did it again just to see it.
“I… I’m not sure really,” you responded, eyes still closed. “But you do not look like you want to harm me.”
The lightest sound reached his ears then, like a twig snapping so far away the sound was distorted to a little blip by the time it reached his ears. But your head snapped to the side instantly, your eyes wide and fearful as you whirled around and froze right in front of him.
“I must go,” you whispered sharply, turning again to look at him. “If I do not return soon the birds will tell. And no one must know I am here.”
“Will you meet me again?” He asked quickly, gripping onto your shawl to stop you from going. You paused, turned back, and offered him a nervous little smile.
“Sunset once more,” you whispered, and when he let go, you ran off back into the woods, your silky shawl slipping through his fingers.
“We do not mind touching each other,” you explained, shrugging your shoulders a little as you strolled along the boundary at Cillian’s side. “A hug, a pet, it is not something to frown on or shy from. It just is.”
It had been weeks of this, of sunset walks along the boundary as the two of you discussed your worlds. You with your mystical words and unexplainable explanations somehow watched him with wonder as he explained the most mundane things to you. You were shocked that his people could not communicate with animals or that most of his people did not have a wide knowledge on herbs and plants.
Time had begun to blur for Cillian. He was no longer sure of the boundary between sleep and wakefulness. Life had become a rose tinted haze, and all his thoughts were consumed by you and the woods. If he was not with you, he could only think about being with you again.
“But we do not take kisses lightly,” you told him gravely, looking ahead of you with a very serious expression as you narrated to him. “Kisses mean… everything. Giving someone a kiss means choosing them. Choosing someone is…” you trailed off and looked up at him, blinking slowly as he shyly smiled at you. “Choosing someone is not to be taken lightly.”
You carefully threaded your arm through his as you continued walking, sighing softly as you snuggled up against him. He simply reached up with his other hand and laid it lightly over where you clutched his arm. He would never tire of this.
Cillian had been extremely lucky thus far, though he was caught so deep in his daze that he did not realise it. He was lucky that he was on a break between filming projects, no commitment forcing him away to places you would not be able to follow. He was lucky that no one had noticed his escapades, no family wondering where he was off to at nights, no curious strangers wondering why he had been to the woods every night for weeks. And he was immensely lucky that no one from your world had found the two of you together.
But as the old saying goes, luck always runs out…
It was a fresh clear day in spring. The sun stayed out later and later, and the weather got warmer and warmer. You and Cillian met even before sunset now, during that golden hour when everything was bathed in orange and yellow and the world felt smooth and calm.
Cillian was a little later than usual to meet you, and he worried that if he didn’t show up on time, you wouldn’t show up at all. He lived in constant fear that one day you would disappear as suddenly as you had appeared, and the only thing to assuage that fear was your hand gently tapping the back of his shoulder, and your beautiful smile as he turned around.
Cillian rushed out of his car and into the treeline, not realising that someone was already parked nearby. Someone who had seen the actor and wondered what possible reason the man could have to be rushing into the woods alone this close to sunset. Someone who got out of the car and quietly began following him at a distance, hoping to catch the next big scoop…
Cillian sighed with relief as he reached the boundary, bending in half, hands to his knees as he tried to catch his breath. A single moment hadn’t even passed before he felt your hand on the back of his shoulder. He opened his eyes but he couldn’t rise just yet. He stared down at your bare feet and the floaty hem of your dress swishing around your shins. Have you always been barefoot?
“Are you alright?” You asked quietly, rubbing his back as he nodded, giving you a thumbs up before continuing to heave. A minute later, he stood up to his full height again and smiled bashfully at you.
“I ran here,” he told you, still a little breathless, and you laughed a soft little giggle. You reached up, and gently pressed both palms to his chest, one over each lung, and that familiar warm pulse began to flow through him. He was instantly rejuvenated, his limbs strong and his breath returned. He looked down at you with an awe that still refused to leave him, amazement only renewed at every new piece of you he acquired. “I’m still not used to that.”
You just smiled and giggled again. You were wearing the shawl again, the silky material draped over your shoulders, and you gently cupped his cheek, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.
A twig snapped behind the both of you. Simultaneously, your heads shot to the side, looking at the man who sheepishly emerged from behind a tree, his phone held up and ready. Though he had revealed himself, he was in awe, staring at you the way Cillian often did.
Your eyes were wild with panic, and Cillian was frozen in his spot, trembling there. The three of you all looked between each other, and no one moved for a moment. But then, swift as lightning, so swift Cillian hadn’t even seen you move, you were next to the man, your fingertips softly touching his temple. He crumpled on the spot, eyes rolling back in his head as he fell to the floor, little snores leaving his mouth.
“No, oh no,” you whispered, staring down at him then back at Cillian.
Your panic was palpable. The air around you seemed to thicken, and for a moment Cillian thought he couldn’t breathe. Your glow had dimmed a little, darkened more than he had ever seen it, and everything he felt seemed to only be a response to you. You were staring at him again, lip trembling and eyes full of tears.
“What… what have you done?” Cillian hadn’t noticed him until then. He, like you, seemed to move on the air. And he was just like you. Beautiful, ethereal, otherworldly.
The man was standing at the boundary, but he could not have been a man. He glowed like you did, wore clothes made of the same material as yours, and his hands were clenched into fists as he took in the scene before him.
You were shaking more now, mouth dropped open as you looked between the human on the floor, Cillian, and your brother, glowering at you.
“What are you doing here?” You asked quickly, swallowing as your voice stuck in your throat.
“I was sent for a collection, and I could feel your distress from a mile away. You are lucky it was me and not anyone else who found you. I have known of your little escapades, but I did not think you to be so careless.” The man was seething, Cillian could tell, and he moved himself closer to you, slowly shuffling so that he stood between you and the other sidhe.
“Brother, please,” you pleaded, and Cillian turned to see crystalline tears collect at the corners of your eyes. Even your tears were beautiful, little gems that trickled down your cheeks as you trembled. He could feel your distress in his gut, and he would do anything to alleviate you from it. “I did not mean to be careless. Please.”
“You are finished now, Y/n,” he ordered, standing up straight and walking over to you. He leaned down and pressed his hand to the side of the man’s chest, and a little light flashed for a moment. Your brother pulled his hand away and began walking back to the boundary, not even acknowledging Cillian for a moment. “He will not remember, and come nightfall, he will wake up and leave.” You nodded, sniffling a little as you clutched both hands to your chest, shivering in a way Cillian had never seen.
“Now come,” he ordered, holding out his hand, “you are not to return here again. You will not leave our world again.”
Your head snapped up and you stared at your brother. Then your gaze travelled to Cillian, still standing there in shock, looking at you with pained eyes as the moment dawned on him. No… this could not be the end.
“Brother-”
“I will not hear any nonsense out of you. You have had your fun, but it is over now.” Your face crumpled further, your body shaking with unreleased sobs. His face and voice softened. “You know as well as I do that this could not last.” Your tears streamed freely now, your lips pouting and trembling. You nodded, but you could not make yourself move. Your brother looked between you and Cillian and sighed, shaking his head a little before straightening up again. “You may have a moment alone. If you do not return as the last birds chirp, then I will find you myself.” And then he left just as swiftly as he appeared.
You were in his arms, throwing yourself against him and wrapping your arms around his torso. You sobbed loudly, violently, crying into his jumper as you trembled like a leaf. All Cillian could do was hug you in return, holding you so tight he worried he might crush you.
It had all happened so fast. Everything had changed in the blink of an eye. One moment he had you. For one brief moment everything had shined the way it was supposed to. And then it was all ripped away.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. Your own were puffy, red, still leaking tears as if they would never stop. You looked… human. He let out a watery laugh, holding both your cheeks in his hands as he looked at you. You tried to smile, but you couldn’t.
“It’s ok,” he whispered, “it’s alright,” but all you could do was shake your head, biting harshly on your lip.
“Please,” he finally got out, “please let me remember.” And your eyes seemed to fill with more tears as his own finally spilled over. “Please let me remember all of this, all of you.” You somehow shook and nodded your head at the same time, dropping your forehead to his chest and continuing to sob for a moment longer.
You finally took a deep breath in and steadied yourself. You looked up into his eyes, caressed his cheekbone, and pushed yourself up to kiss him. You pressed your lips gently to his, softly, like caressing the petals of a flower. You leaned back and whispered, “I choose you. I would always choose you.” And then the world turned to black.
Cillian woke with a start, sitting up in bed, drenched with sweat. The same dream again, haunting him for years. He could feel your lips still, your grip on him, the silky material of the shawl under his hands. It was the most vivid dream he had ever had.
He knew he would not feel the same for days now. Each time the dream reoccurred, always at the start of winter, then again at the start of spring, he felt off for days. Something about it unsettled him in his bones.
He had tried going to those very woods, the woods of his childhood, to see if something in his memory would jog. He asked his family if he had ever had a head injury, some bout of amnesia, but they always looked at him like he was crazy and brushed him off for being silly.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been real. Then why did it feel like that?
“Are you alright, darling?” It was his wife’s voice, groggy and concerned next to him. She reached up and gently rubbed his shoulder, looking at him through squinted eyes.
“Yeah, fine,” he huffed out, allowing himself to fall back into bed. But he would not sleep. He shuffled up again and turned on the lamp on his nightstand, glancing back to make sure his wife didn’t wake again. Then he pulled open the drawer, and gently grasped the bundle of cloth that was folded up inside. He brought it onto his lap, and stared at it as he caressed the fabric.
It was a shawl, beautiful and shimmery and unlike anything he had ever seen anywhere else in the world. Just like the one in his dream.
It was hundreds of years later when you felt the cold begin to creep up on your limbs. You had once thought you felt that same cold the night you had let your human go. But this time you knew it was real, that it had come for you.
You lay in your bed, shivering just a little. A blanket was draped over you, tucked in at your sides and neck, but the cold was bone deep, licking at the backs of your eyelids. You sighed slowly, and closed your eyes.
You could still see his so clearly. They blazed blue in your mind, like two gemstones. Sometimes you saw them red lined and brimming with tears, and sometimes you saw them squinted, the distant sound of his laughter just touching your ears.
If you thought hard enough, you could feel his touch. His hands caressing your hair, your face. His arms wrapped around you, firm and warm. Yes… you thought… you had chosen well…
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