The Pact
Foley Briarstone x Reader
Fae & Alchemy by Callie Hart
Summary: You enter the Black Palace with one goal: bring Foley Briarstone out of his thousand-year exile and convince the frightened, isolated vampire to return home to Cahlish, where his help is desperately needed and his friends truly miss him.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 3k
The library of the Black Palace smelled of parchment and magic. You noticed it immediately, even through the frantic pull of breath in your lungs after climbing what felt like an endless number of stairs just to reach the damned place. Gods cursed, stubborn vampire. Saeris had tried to convince Foley to return to Cahlish. So had Lorreth. Fisher had taken his turn only yesterday. But the former Fae warrior turned vampire seemed utterly determined to rot away in this library for the rest of eternity. The thought was unfair, and you knew it. After all, what Foley had devoted the last thousand years of his life to was noble. Far nobler than anything you would ever accomplish, that much was certain.
Foley had condemned himself to a life of solitude. Well, almost solitude. There was Algat, of course, and the black shadow cat you had grown strangely fond of over the past week. Saeris had also told you that Tal visited him from time to time, usually to make sure Foley actually fed. Apparently, he was the only vampire in existence who had survived a thousand years without drinking from anything larger than a rodent. Because he was afraid of hurting someone. Afraid of losing control. So afraid that this half-life buried inside the Black Palace library still seemed like the safest option to him. But you were working on that, relentlessly so. The newest plan had actually been Lorreth’s idea, though it had taken an exhausting argument with both Saeris and Hayden before the group had eventually agreed upon it. In the end, Fisher’s quiet insistence that he knew Foley’s heart had been the deciding factor. Unlike your sister, you were still human. And nothing smelled fresher, sweeter, more irresistible to a vampire than human blood. So for the past week, you had come here every single day. You spent hours with Foley, talking to him, existing beside him, proving over and over again that he was more than capable of sitting next to you without sinking his fangs into your throat. The tiny makeshift room he’d carved out for himself sat hidden between towering bookshelves in a forgotten section of the library no one else cared enough to visit. There was little more than a narrow bed and a cluttered desk shoved between the stacks. Tilting your head back, you followed the steep ladder leading all the way up to the roof of the library. A small smile tugged at one side of your mouth. Well, fuck. You made a mental note to finally start training with the others before letting out a long sigh and beginning the climb upward. By the time you hauled yourself onto the roof, your lungs were burning. Foley sat at the edge with his feet dangling over the side, eyes closed as the wind stirred through his pitch-black hair.
“Gods above,” you huffed between heavy breaths, “all those fucking steps.” You shot him a look. “Is it mandatory for you to be on the roof every second time I come here?” His eyes slowly opened and he turned his head in your direction, keeping his hands atop his thighs. “Is it mandatory for you to curse every second sentence?” the vampire asked smoothly and a slow grin curved across his lips. With an embarrassingly exhausted grunt, you dropped down beside him and adjusted the glasses perched on your nose. Those, it turned out, had been a complete mystery to both the Fae and the vampires alike. Perfect vision was a given for all of them, which meant none of them had the faintest idea what the strange little contraption balanced on your face was supposed to do. It had taken the entirety of your first meeting to explain to Foley that without them, everything was a blur to you. “Well, I could make an effort and keep my foul language in check, if it’s too much for you to handle,” you teased. He let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and warm as he shook his head. “No,” he said, “don’t change on my account. I’ve spent enough time around Fisher and Lorreth to be completely immune to foul language by now.” The faintest grin touched his mouth as he glanced toward you, the gold plating on his canines catching briefly in the moonlight. “Can you see just as well in the dark as you can in the light?” you asked curiously. Back in Cahlish, everyone was always busy, rushing from one problem to the next, carrying the weight of the realm on their shoulders. You never dared ask too many questions there. But with Foley, time felt strangely slower and calmer. And as a human in Yvelia, there were still countless things that baffled you entirely. Most of them remained unanswered. Amusement flickered through his striking blue eyes, the serpent-like pupils narrowing slightly as the golden starburst around his irises seemed to flare. “Better, actually,” he admitted. “Daylight is tolerable at best. But dusk and darkness?” A faint grin ghosted across his mouth. “That’s when everything sharpens.”
You nodded in understanding, biting at your bottom lip– a habit you always fell into whenever you were concentrating. “Does the sun affect you the same way it affects Saeris?” you asked. Ever since your sister had become something caught between vampire and Fae, she’d been able to tolerate sunlight. However, it was uncomfortable, and the longer she remained beneath it, the paler and sicker she became, as though the light itself slowly leeched the strength from her body. “No,” he said quietly. “Saeris can endure sunlight. She’s… something else entirely. I cannot.” He gestured vaguely toward the sprawling library beneath you both. “Thank the Gods I don’t have to worry about it in this glorified coffin.” Your gaze drifted over the endless dark structure below. This rooftop, the open air, the stars overhead, was the only freedom Foley ever allowed himself. Drawing in a deep breath, you forced yourself to refocus on the real reason you had come here a week ago in the first place. So far, Foley had rejected every single attempt to bring him back to Cahlish. “Everyone wants you home,” you said gently. “Back in Cahlish. We could really use you there, you know.” The amusement faded from his expression, replaced by that familiar wall of stubbornness you had already come to know far too well. “Cahlish is swarming with living creatures,” he said flatly. “I won’t risk it.” “Foley–” “No.” The word came firm and immediate. One look at his expression told you this was not a discussion he intended to entertain. You’d had this exact conversation every single day since you started visiting him, and his answer never changed. “You’re not a danger to anyone,” you insisted. “I can promise you that.”
Foley leaned back against the slanted wall of the gable, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked away from you and up toward the night sky instead. “Oh? And you’re familiar with the hunger of a vampire, then?” “Not really,” you admitted, “but I do know that I sliced my palm open before I came here, and I’ve been bleeding this entire time.” You lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “And you haven’t made a single move to drain me dry, so…” His head snapped back toward you so fast you swore you nearly heard something crack, his eyes immediately dropping to your right hand. “You’re bleeding?!” “Yes, but it’s just–” Before you could finish the sentence, Foley moved. Swifter than should have been possible, he was behind you, hauling you to your feet and steering you back toward the ladder leading down into the library. His hand wrapped tightly around your wrist as he lifted your injured palm to inspect it, muttering a string of curses under his breath the entire way. You had to press your lips together to hide the smile threatening to break free. Because there was no bloodlust in the way he touched you, no hunger, only genuine concern for your wellbeing. Back in the small corner of the library he called his room, Foley shoved you down onto the edge of his bed before striding toward one of the shelves. He returned moments later with a small wooden box and a strip of clean cloth in hand. “Do you realize how dangerous that was?” he hissed. Despite the sharpness in his tone, his touch remained impossibly careful as he turned your blood-smeared palm over in his much larger hand. “This isn’t just about me,” he muttered, already reaching into the box for supplies. “There are thousands of other vampires in the Black Palace.” “I was starting to run out of ideas to convince you to come with me.” Foley shot you a glare, tenderly cleaning the wound, his touch frustratingly gentle. After a moment, he dipped his fingers into a salve and began spreading it over the cut.
“And hurting yourself was the next logical step?” he asked dryly. “Well, it proved my point,” you replied, a victorious grin tugging at your mouth hard enough to crinkle the corners of your eyes. “I’m human. Arguably, I have the freshest blood in all of Yvelia, and instead of attacking me while I was bleeding, you took care of me.” He let out a quiet huff, deliberately avoiding your eyes as he wrapped the last strip of cloth around your palm and tied it off in a neat little knot. “That still doesn’t change the fact that it was an incredibly stupid thing to do.” Foley lowered himself onto the bed beside you, and a moment of silence passed. Then, cautiously, you reached over and slipped your uninjured hand into his. “Come back to Cahlish with me.” His fingers twitched faintly in yours as he considered your words. You knew that he was scared to hurt someone, and that after one thousand years in solitude, he’d forgotten how to be around others. And yet, a tiny sliver of hope crept into those fascinating starbursts. “Fine.” “Really?” you asked, eyes widening in disbelief. Lorreth had suspected today would finally be the day his old friend cracked, but you hadn’t actually believed him.
“Yes,” Foley confirmed, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “But you have to promise me you’ll never hurt yourself because of me again.” You almost brushed the whole thing aside, tempted to tell him it had only been a small cut and hardly worth the reaction it had earned from him, but the way Foley’s entire face was contorted with discomfort stopped the words before they could leave your mouth. He was being serious. Something old and painful seemed to linger right under his skin, and it suddenly dawned on you that his fear of hurting others ran far deeper than you had truly understood until now. For someone who had once been a warrior, protecting the weaker at all costs, the terror of becoming dangerous to the people around him had rooted itself into every part of who he was. “I won’t,” you breathed, giving his hand a squeeze in return. “I promise.” An endearing smile softened his features and he reached out, tenderly brushing a strand of your hair out of your face. “I don’t deserve your kindness,” he murmured. With an eyeroll, you made your opinion on that statement abundantly clear. “You really need to stop saying ridiculous things like that.” “It’s the truth.” He pushed himself to his feet, the mattress shifting with the loss of his weight, before he crossed the small room toward a cupboard tucked between the shelves. Pulling open one of the drawers, he began rifling through it with quiet purpose, and your chest tightened as realization slowly settled in. He was actually coming with you. Warmth unfurled inside your chest as Foley pulled out a worn satchel and began packing without further hesitation, shoving clothes and a few other necessities inside it. “We’re going to have to work on that,” you decided lightly, rising from the bed as well. Curiosity guided you from shelf to shelf along the small space, your fingers itching with the urge to explore every miniscule part of his world. “On what?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he shoved a book into the satchel. “The way you talk about yourself.”
A quiet snort escaped him, sharp with disbelief and faint derision as he shook his head, already reaching for yet another stack of books. “You’re more stubborn than even Saeris, do you know that?” “I prefer to call it persistence,” you replied, as you nudged your glasses a little higher up your nose with the tip of your finger. Foley pulled the satchel closed and slung it over his shoulder before turning back toward you. Reaching out, he carefully adjusted your glasses where they had slipped slightly down your nose once more. “Persistence,” he repeated softly, as though testing the word for himself. “Ready to go?” you asked. He drew in a steadying breath, as though steeling himself for what he was about to do, then nodded, “Yeah… let’s go.” And just like that, he turned and walked toward the end of his self-imposed exile.
Together, the two of you slipped from the dark fortress like shadows in the night. Kingfisher had found a spot a few miles away– Ammontraíeth no longer, but not yet the Darn either– where his magic finally held strong enough to conjure a shadow gate. As a human, crossing the entirety of the Darn on horseback would have been a death sentence. Feeders would have torn you apart long before you ever reached Cahlish. Even sneaking into the castle over and over again just to see Foley had been dangerous enough. The only reason the vampires hadn’t ripped you to pieces on sight was because of their Queen. Your sister. Saeris. The moment you touched the soil outside Ammontraíeth, Foley went rigid beside you. You knew that very muscle in his body twitched with the instinctive urge to retreat, to disappear back into the safety of the library and bury himself beneath old parchment, but you wouldn’t let him. You brushed the back of his cold hand with yours and tilted your head up toward him, offering a small, reassuring smile when his gaze snapped to yours. “Come on,” you murmured softly. “The gate isn’t far.” But Foley didn’t move. His broad frame remained unmoving, as though his body had suddenly forgotten how to obey the command his mind had already made. When you noticed a tremor running through his limps, you laced your fingers with his, and it was as if the final piece of an impossibly ancient puzzle slid neatly into place. “What do you fear most?” you asked. Foley swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he stared at your joined hands. The anxiety in his gaze was palpable– raw, ancient, carried for centuries like a heavy weight around his weary shoulders. “Losing control,” he whispered. “Hurting someone. Killing them by accident.” Around the two of you, the wind stirred through the tall grass along the outskirts of the Darn, the sound soft and restless, like whispers carried from another lifetime. Foley exhaled shakily. “I don’t trust myself anymore.”
Biting at the inside of your cheek, you fell quiet for a moment as you turned your thoughts over in your mind before finally looking back at him. “Maybe…” you began carefully, “maybe we could make some kind of agreement with each other. Like a pact.” Foley blinked at that, curiosity flickering through his golden-flecked eyes. “What kind of pact?” he asked prudently, though there was unmistakable interest threading through the wariness now. “I’ll keep an eye on you,” you said, your thumb brushing lightly across the back of his huge hand as you spoke. “I’ll intervene if you seem overwhelmed, or uncomfortable, or if everything starts becoming too much.” A small smile pulled at your upper lip before you continued, “And in return, you’ll keep an eye on me. You’ll tell me when I’m wandering too far, or being reckless. We’ll just… take care of each other.” Foley seemed to consider your proposal for a long moment, his gaze lingering on your features as though the answer might somehow be written there. A pact. A promise. Two people watching over one another when they could no longer trust themselves to carry every burden alone. A Partnership. At last, he gave a single nod, short and decisive. “Agreed. We’ll keep each other grounded, and safe, hopefully.” When you rounded the next corner, the shadow gate rose from the earth like a beacon of darkness, its edges rippling and twisting, woven from smoke and midnight. By now, you’d entered them often, saw Fisher create them too a couple of times and still– the sight made you shiver. Beside you, Foley stiffened, his eyes fixed on the swirling void waiting ahead. Then his grip tightened and together, you closed the remaining distance and stepped through. The world vanished. For one dizzying heartbeat, there was nothing but cold, weightless mass pressing in from every direction, carrying the distant scent of Fisher’s old magic. Then the sensation disappeared as suddenly as it had come. Your boots hit solid ground, and when you opened your eyes, the familiar landscape of Cahlish stretched out before you. The snow covered Omnamerrin mountains loomed over the fiefdom like giant protectors, crooked cobblestones covered the lively alleys, torchlight danced in scones along the walls of connected half-timbered houses. Voices, even this late at night, carried through the air, laughter, gossip and discussions. When you turned your head to look up at the giant warrior that was still clutching your hand, you saw the shimmer in his pale blue eyes. After a thousand years spent hiding among dusty shelves and ancient books, Foley Briarstone had finally come home.