#icinks

[orangebatsanctuary]

Extraordinary dinner’s served! 

Floret by icinks

If you wanna feel like winning lottery, read this fic!  icinks made it extra special for us.

I mean, this is one of the best fairy tales AU InaSure that will make you fall in love with them right off the bat! I’m in heaven...

Read on OrangeBat Sanctuary website:

http://www.orangebat-sanctuary.com/icinks

or click ‘Keep reading’ below.

Have fun reading!

Love,

Rosiel

Floret

By icinks

 Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Referenced Homicide, Referenced Bullying, Anxiety, Fluff & Angst, Fairies

｡.:*☆☆*:.｡ 

 “Hello? Hello!” A soft, insistent voice echoed in the cold air, its source standing somewhere close by. Slaine crouched behind a boulder and waited for the human to leave, more out of some false instinct than necessity. They were the same size now - humans were no longer a threat to him.  Crunching footsteps, another call.  Whoever it was, they did not seem ready to go away anytime soon.

“Hello! Miss Fairy, are you here?  Please let me speak with you...” the voice was a little louder this time.

Fairy? Slaine frowned.  Humans avoided fairies, but this boy was seeking one out.  And how did he know that she was here?  Slaine listened closer now, waiting for the boy to speak again. However instead of the voice, his own stomach was first to break the silence. Right, he hadn’t eaten in awhile. On top of that, he was hungrier much faster than he was accustomed to.  Perhaps it was this large form that was sapping his energy.  Clapping a hand over his mouth, as if it would stop the rumbling in his abdomen, Slaine crouched as close to the boulder as possible in hopes that the boy wouldn’t notice him.

He was quickly disappointed as footsteps soon headed his way.  He looked around him for someplace else to dash to, but the moment he stood up, a wave of faintness came over him and he stumbled and fell into the leaves.  The trees around him span, circling dizzyingly against the winter sky above. And then he was staring up into the flushed face of a boy with eyes the color of cherries.

“Are you alright?”

 ❋❋❋

 Inaho hated winter.  The cold gnawed at him no matter where he was or what clothes he put on.  The stove in his little home was about the only place that didn’t feel unbearable this time of year, but lying against its warm clay walls could only thaw half of him at once, and that in itself was unpleasant in its own way.  It was a good thing that he already spent most of his time at home regardless, with little reason to venture out into the bitter wind outside.  Standing over a hot cauldron of stew was welcome labor, though sometimes he wondered whether Yuki really would rather stay at home instead of work, and simply said nothing for his sake.  If it was just the cold, he would switch places with her in a heartbeat, but there was another reason he rarely left the confines of their modest property.

It was that reason which drew him out into the woods every day that week.  The fairy he searched for year after year, winter and summer, when she might be visible to him during the solstice, was unsurprisingly absent again.  He was sure she must be there somewhere, probably high amongst the barren canopy, but she never showed herself to him.  For ten years he had been met only with silence.

Today, for the first time, he heard someone there.  It wasn’t the fairy, he knew that much when he began walking in the direction of a sound, but it was someone, and that someone might know something about her. A moment later he was looking down at a boy lying stunned in the leaves at his feet.  He had fallen all on his own - Inaho had watched him tumble headlong and roll a bit down the incline that sloped towards the valley below. Habit withheld his hand from helping the boy up, but he approached to a safe distance just to be sure there were no injuries.  The peculiar sound that had initially caught his attention was probably the boy’s empty stomach, he realized, which was being clutched by two thin, poorly clothed arms, and was no doubt also the reason for his stumbling.  Inaho rummaged in his pockets for something edible to give him; he had brought along a bit of bread wrapped up in a handkerchief for himself. Since he hadn’t found what he was looking for, it wouldn’t much matter if he gave away his meal and headed home. There was over half a loaf remaining on the kitchen table, if Yuki hadn’t yet descended upon it.

“Are you alright?” he asked, taking the bread and placing it beside the boy before stepping back.  It felt a bit like setting out food for the rabbits back home, but he wouldn’t take any risks.  There had been too many mistakes in the past.

The boy seemed relieved, anyway, that he’d backed off a little.  He stirred, and pulled himself up into a seated position, but did not touch the food.  Instead he looked as though he was preparing to make another run for it.

“You should recover your strength,” Inaho quickly advised him, “the food is safe, I made it myself.”

Blue-green eyes shifted to him, wide and wary, though the effect of the boy’s threatening expression was somewhat lost amongst the leaves littering his hair.

“Do you live in the village?” Inaho questioned, with the thought that they might return together before the sun dipped below the far peak.  It was already beginning to get colder.  Since he’d rather not abandon the boy, it would be a convenient arrangement to help him safely to wherever he belonged, though ultimately, he suspected that this person was neither lost nor from the village. It seemed he might be wandering, and had probably come from someplace else.  Anyone from the village would know better than to venture into the mountain forests alone.

The boy shook his head in answer.  His hand reached tentatively for the wrapped bread, and as he sniffed it another loud complaint resounded from his stomach.  Immediately the light pink at the boy’s cheeks deepened several shades, and for a brief moment he looked as though he would hurl the morsel into a nearby shrub.  Instead, his fingers began to tremble as they curled around it, and something damp began to fall onto the cloth.  Inaho realized that the droplets were coming from the boy’s eyes, and that tears were traveling down his face and onto the bread.

“I promise you, it’s safe to eat,” Inaho repeated, at a loss, and not a little curious as to what would cause this boy to be so wary of him that he would suspect him of keeping poisoned food on hand in case of chancing upon him.  Was someone hunting him?  “Here, give it back,” he pointed to the ground where he had originally placed it.  Perhaps if he ate some of it himself, the boy would trust him.

“No. I believe you,” answered the boy, very low, and Inaho realized now that the tears had meant relief, “Th... thank you.  Is this human food?”

It was a strange question to hear from a human.  “Yes.  Are you… a fairy?”  He had heard that sometimes fairies took human form, and even lived their whole lives that way, though it seemed unreasonable to him to go through the trouble of being something you weren’t.  Being human wasn’t all that great.

“I’m not,” was the swift reply.  The boy slowly lifted the bread to his mouth and took a very small bite.  It was quickly followed by another, and another, and Inaho had to warn him not to scarf it too quickly lest he give himself a stomachache.

“Do you know the fairy that lives here?” he inquired as the boy ate.  It was unlikely, but worth asking, on the slim chance that he had finally discovered someone who could help him.

The boy looked up at him again, and brushed the crumbs from his mouth before answering. “There are many fairies that live here. Which one do you mean?”

Inaho looked around him.  Could it be that he truly couldn’t see them at all?  Perhaps the fairy he sought had actually answered him, and he was simply unable to see her...

“I don’t think there are any here right now,” the boy added, noting his searching eyes, “It’s winter, so they’ve probably gone to stay at the Glade.  Do you know her name?  What does she look like?”

“She had hair like a pearl, and sapphire wings like cracked stained glass, the same color as her eyes.  And she wore a gown made of a lily.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed somewhat, and from the slight, wary tilt of his head, Inaho was sure that he had finally found a clue as to her whereabouts.  “What do you want with that fairy?” the boy inquired instead, his words all but confirming that he knew her, or at least knew of her.

“I have a favor to ask of her.”

“In that case, you shouldn’t bother.  She probably won’t grant it.”

Inaho was aware of that much.  The fairy girl would likely not be easily persuaded, especially given she was the reason for his needing the favor in the first place.  “Do you know where she is?  Can you take me to her?”

 ❋❋❋

 Slaine eyed the human with suspicion.  One could only describe this fairy in such detail if they had actually met her, unless she was the stuff of bedtime stories, which he very much doubted given what he’d been told.  This boy must have encountered her before at some point.  As far as Slaine was aware, fairies and humans had little reason to interact, and the former stuck mostly to the remote mountain forests, while the latter took refuge along the river in the lush valley.  It was best for all of them if they simply kept to themselves.

“I don’t know her, or where she is,” he answered in half-truth.  The full truth was that he was also searching for this same fairy, and would rather not have someone interfering with his mission, especially someone he didn’t even know or especially trust.  Anyway, it was very unlikely that she would answer the request of an ordinary human boy.  If what he had been told about her was true, she wasn’t a very friendly person.  It would be difficult enough to complete his own quest. “You should go home,” he added, noting the path of the sun, “it isn’t safe here after sundown.”

“It’s not safe for you, either,” the other returned, “If you need a place to sleep, you should come with me.  You’ll freeze to death up here in those clothes.”

Slaine watched the boy take a step back, rather than extend a helpful hand as he pulled himself to his feet, and couldn’t help but wonder if there was not some distrust on both sides.  Even so, the boy had been very generous and kind thus far, for a complete stranger. Slaine glanced at the sky once more, and recalling the torturous hours of the early morning when he had set out, he gave a resigned nod.  A stranger’s home would be far better than staying in the cold forest, with nothing to eat and only a boulder to shield him from the harsh mountain wind.

“What may I call you?” asked the boy, “my name is Inaho.”

Slaine took his time in answering.  He didn’t like handing out his name so flippantly in unknown territory, but this boy seemed safe enough.  In any case, he was going home with him.  With another sigh, he answered quietly, “Slaine.”

 ❋❋❋

 The house was smaller than he had expected.  Slaine could not remember having ever set foot in a human home, though he was sure he must have been born in one.  The circumstances of his birth were as much a mystery to himself as to anyone, but he liked to think there was something normal about it, and that after a perfectly ordinary infancy, there had been good reasons for his mother to abandon him in the forest.

Or rather, that was what he used to believe.  He knew better now - his birth was not a mystery at all, and nothing about his life had been left to chance.  Knowing that his mother had never meant to part with him was small comfort in the face of the realization that everything else in his life had only ever been a farce.  He wondered what it would have been like to grow up within walls like this, snug and comfortable and welcome.  The place where he was raised was nothing like the valley; the Glade was much warmer, being kept that way by the fairies themselves, and generally there was less between them and the earth.

Immediately, the bread on the table caught his attention, and he felt his stomach complain again.  It was inconvenient having to eat so often; back home with the fairies, he only ate when he felt like it.  The thought that perhaps his body was lacking sixteen years’ worth of nutrients made him uneasy, but he supposed if that were true, he’d have perished upon his return to this form.  What he was feeling might actually be normal for a human.  He wouldn’t know.

“Do you live on the East Mountain?” inquired Inaho as he gestured towards a chair.

He was beginning to tire of these questions.  Especially since he felt obliged to answer, given the hospitality he was receiving.  “Yes.” There didn’t need to be explanation. There wasn’t much to tell, anyway; anyone from the East Mountain was either a traveler, a fairy, or a madman. Humans didn’t live there, unless they were a changeling.

“You were raised by them,” Inaho guessed easily.

Slaine did not deny it.  He accepted an offered cup and peered at its contents before taking an experimental sip. The liquid was warm in his mouth and the taste was sweet and somehow familiar.  Drawing the cup away from his lips, he looked into it again in an effort to determine what it was.  He had not watched its preparation, being too preoccupied with his surroundings.

“It’s made from a rose syrup,” Inaho offered, apparently noting the curious look in his eyes as he stared and sipped in turns.

“Rose? But it’s winter…”  He was quite sure roses did not bloom in winter.

“The syrup is made during the summer, and keeps in the cupboard all winter.  A spoonful is added to hot water as a medicinal drink.”

It sounded very nice, and he let the warmth settle inside him, the sensation strange but comfortable.  The fairies did not make hot drinks.

 ❋❋❋

 “Do you live alone?”

It was the first true question Slaine asked him.

“My sister lives here with me,” he answered, and glanced at the door.  Yuki was late coming home, but then that was not unusual.  She often got carried away with her work and lost track of time.  Inaho had gotten quite used to it, and so long as she returned before bedtime he felt no need to worry.

As he watched the onions sizzle cheerily in the butter at the bottom of the cauldron, he considered how to persuade Slaine to help him.  If it was a petty favor, he would have abandoned it years ago, but this was something he simply couldn’t give up on.  He would find that fairy by any means necessary.  Yuki’s life could depend on it.

Steam curled in thin clouds above the cauldron as the soup began to boil.  He carefully sliced vegetables and dropped them into the broth, along with various herbs selected from jars in the cupboard.

“Do you get lonely?” came another unexpected inquiry.  Though perhaps the question was not really all that strange, considering fairies were, from his understanding, very social creatures. Slaine was probably used to constant, lively company.

He tapped the wooden spoon against the rim of the cauldron and hung it on a hook by the stove, hands following their routine path while his mind considered the question.  “It doesn’t matter,” he eventually replied. It didn’t matter, not for him.  Though it might, if Slaine would help him.  “I can’t be near other people.”

“Can’t?” Slaine looked at him with eyebrows slightly raised in question, voice echoing a bit in his nearly empty cup, which he had just raised to his lips.  His dark lashes fluttered in the steam which puffed into them as his breath gently stirred the hot liquid.

The lengthening gaze showed no sign of averting, and Inaho resigned himself to giving answer.  It might help his cause in persuading Slaine, anyway, if the circumstances which prompted his mission were understood.  On the other hand, it could also drive Slaine away, and then he would be back to where he’d started.

He met the other’s eyes, saying nothing at first.  He wasn’t quite sure where to begin, because he had never had to explain it to anyone before.  Either they knew from what they had seen or heard, and looked at him as though he were the Devil himself, or they were blissfully unaware, and Inaho had to go out of his way to avoid them in order to prevent any terrible accidents.  He was never quite sure which was worse - being hated, or having people mistake his caution for contempt.  These days there was less of the latter, since in the end most everyone in the little village had found out one way or another, and branding him anathema had forced him into near total seclusion.  He could not complain.

The vigorously boiling soup gave him an excuse to break eye contact, and he turned back to the stove to stir it.  It would be better to tell Slaine, he assured himself.  There was no sense in keeping it from him.  Perhaps, because Slaine had lived amongst fairies and their magic, he would understand.  Yes, it would be better to say it… He wiped the sweat from his palms onto a rag cloth and carefully moved the cauldron away from the direct heat of the fire, leaving it to simmer.  Then he seated himself across from Slaine.

“When... I was a child...” he began, uncertain, “I went into the mountain forest alone.  There I was cursed by a fairy, and ever since, if I touch another human… they die. I want to ask the fairy to reverse it.”

Slaine set his cup down slowly and leaned forward, expression unreadable.  “You haven’t touched another human since childhood?” he asked, voice low and incredulous.

“I have.”

There was a very long silence after that confession, and he debated whether providing directions to the nearest inn might now be the wisest course of action. There was little reason for Slaine to remain here with someone who had just freely admitted to murder, let alone aid him as he’d hoped.

“It must be difficult,” answered Slaine in a tone that sounded earnest and free of reproach.  He craned his neck a bit to cast a glance over Inaho’s shoulder at the soup.  “That smells good.”

Before Inaho could determine what to do with such a reaction, there was a rustling, scuffing sound at the door, and a moment later Yuki appeared.  She seemed as though she was going to say something as she stepped into the house and closed the creaky wooden door behind her, but was immediately distracted by Slaine, who was in the middle of reaching for the remaining bread.

“Oh!” she exclaimed instead, “Nao, who is this?”

 ❋❋❋

 No fairy could produce a curse - they were not capable of that sort of ill-intended magic. The more likely explanation was that she had meant for it to be a blessing, but that the gift had backfired due to lack of experience.  Or perhaps Inaho had just been the unlucky recipient of a stray spell, which young fairies sometimes cast in the forest for play or practice, so as not to disrupt anything at home.  Whatever the case, it was a terrible thing to live with.  His life must have been traumatic, if people really did die when they came in contact with him.

Slaine let the thoughts drift to the back of his mind as he focused his attention on the woman who had just entered the little house.  She looked at him with cheerful, curious eyes, though he could easily detect the jaded exhaustion that lay beneath the surface.

“Welcome home, Yuki,” Inaho greeted her, with the first smile Slaine had seen from him. He introduced them briefly before ducking into a cupboard for some bowls.

She smiled as well, casting an uncertain glance between them, and excused herself to wash up for supper.  Slaine watched her disappear up some wooden stairs, looking at the home with new perspective as he listened to her footsteps above them in the loft. Everything was separate, even down to the chairs at the far ends of the table, and the gloves that were laid neatly on the shelf above the stove, Inaho immediately pulled onto his hands again when he had finished cooking.  They were obviously very careful, but one little mistake would end in tragedy, and with them living in such close quarters, the chances of such an accident occurring eventually were that much higher.

Slaine returned his gaze to Inaho.  “I understand your urgency,” he admitted, pausing to accept the bowl that was set in front of him, “If you want… you can come with me.  I am also searching for that fairy.”

He would probably regret his offer, but then this house was wonderfully warm, and the soup smelled very good, and he had no provisions to speak of, nor knowledge of how to prepare any of his own.  His body would give out again in a day or two if he tried to go it alone in this harsh environment.  It would be best to take someone experienced with him, someone with food and human skills, even if it might result in some unwanted interference.

Slaine glanced up from his soup, and saw that Inaho was still standing there.  He couldn’t quite read his expression, but he seemed pleased at least. Perhaps it was relief?  “Thank you,” Inaho said quietly, before turning to fill another bowl for his sister.

   Slaine shivered in the icy air of early morning.  There was no wind, but the rising sun had not yet touched the valley, and even with the extra layers of clothing Inaho had insisted he take, Slaine could not keep his teeth from chattering or his body from shaking.

“You’ll warm up once we’ve walked a bit,” assured Inaho, who was also shivering, and might even have been a little grumpy about it, if the very slight furrow of his brow was anything to go by.  The rest of his face was all wrapped up in a long strip of woven fabric.

Slaine adjusted the pack he was given to carry.  It was a little heavy, but Inaho was right that the exercise made him warm. Supposedly it was filled with provisions, so there wasn’t anything to complain about.  The first leg of their journey wasn’t all that difficult, since they merely had to cut through the village to the other side, which lay at the foot of the West Mountain.  From there they would travel up into the forest in search of the fairy.

“I’m told she lives on the West Mountain now,” he had explained to Inaho as they planned their journey the previous evening, “Apparently there is a fairy that was tasked with watching over her, though he disappeared some years ago.  Hopefully his information is still correct regarding her whereabouts.  Her name is Princess Lemrina.”

There were very few people in the streets at that hour, and after witnessing the various scornful looks cast their way, he was grateful for it. Passing through town when everyone was up and about would probably have been a painful affair for Inaho, regardless of how unaffected he seemed by their hateful eyes, their whispers, and their wide berth of him.  His expression may not have betrayed any reaction at all, but ever since entering the main part of town Slaine noticed that he looked mostly at the ground as the walked, only every now and again glancing in the direction of Slaine’s feet as though to check that he hadn’t strayed too close. The mere fact that Inaho was going to such lengths to regain his normalcy spoke more clearly of his true sentiment, though Slaine supposed it was possible that his sister had more to do with it than anything.  He could not imagine being in such a precariously dangerous position with Asseylum.

As they trudged past the final few houses at the outskirts of the west side, the sun crept over the east peak and shed its warmth against their backs.  The heat felt good, and strange at the same time as it contrasted with the cool breeze coming down off the mountain from the forest they were about to enter.  Before they ventured into it, having scrambled their way up the fenced pastures filled with tall grasses, bent over from the frost and hiding the thicker, treacherous brambles that grew close to the earth, Inaho came to a stop by a large, fallen tree, and suggested they eat breakfast before proceeding.

Slaine sat down on the tree and waited for instructions as to what they were to eat. He hadn’t watched Inaho fill the packs - he had been fast asleep at the time.  Inaho was already drawing something out from his own pack, a thick brown cloth folded around something that gave off the faintest mist of steam in the cold air.  Slaine could already smell it as it was placed beside him on the uneven tree bark.

As he unwrapped the warm bread and began to eat it, he glanced sidelong at Inaho.  He wondered whether that quiet nature was innate, or acquired from so many years of solitude.  Inaho had not said much at supper the previous night, not even in the presence of his sister.  In fact, he had actually said less at the table than before she’d arrived.  Slaine didn’t mind it, though; the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or tense.  He felt calmer somehow, not having to think of things to say to someone he didn’t know.

Once they had finished their meal and packed up, they continued on their way up the mountainside, into a grove of evergreen trees.  The further into the forest they went, the surer Slaine became of one thing.  Inaho must have noticed his unease, and halting by a pile of broken rocks, turned to face him.  “Is something the matter?” he asked, his head tilting a little and eyebrows slightly raised in question.  Slaine noted that the wind-burned red had left his cheeks, replaced by a soft, flushed pink, no doubt from the exertion of climbing.  Inaho was probably not accustomed to much exercise of this kind, and Slaine admittedly was not either.  Somehow moving took less energy when he was smaller, and when magic and nectar sustained his body.

Slaine chewed at his bottom lip.  “I’m… not sure that I can actually see fairies anymore.”  For some reason, he felt terrible admitting it.  He had told Inaho that he would help him, and now he was saying he actually couldn’t help at all.  In truth, anything useful he’d had to offer had been shared already.  No one from the Glade knew exactly where the lost Princess had gone, not since five or six years ago, so it was anyone’s guess where on this mountain she had settled.

Inaho did not seem particularly upset.  “The solstice will-”

“That’s a myth,” Slaine cut in, “If you ever saw a fairy without magic to help you, it was because she wanted you to see her.  There is no veil between us, it’s simply that, due to such a lack of magic here, their natural presence is too faint for most humans to see.”

“Then you normally use magic to see them?”

He shook his head.  “The magic in the Glade is strong enough that I don’t need to do anything in order to see them.  The fairies’ presence is strengthened by the foundational spells of the Royal Court - any human would be able to see them there.”

“But you can use magic to see them here,” stated Inaho, somehow unphased by all this discouraging news, “can any human use magic?”

Their eyes met, and Slaine felt himself wither at the question.  Clearly Inaho intended to try it, if it was possible, and being the one to enable him made Slaine feel directly responsible for the outcome.  He ought to feel lucky that here was someone possibly willing to make a sacrifice that he would have otherwise had to make himself, but instead he was only filled with reluctance and a nagging feeling of guilt.

In the end, he managed to convince himself that it would be best to allow Inaho to make his own decision, even if it was self-serving.  After all, at this rate Inaho would be stuck like this forever, and that would undoubtedly be the worse fate for him.  There were few sacrifices that would outweigh the misfortune that already existed.  Would Inaho give anything to live alongside his sister without fear?  To someday kiss a lover, or hold the hand of a child?

“Yes,” Slaine answered simply, at last. “But there is a cost.”

“If I won’t die, it’s not a problem.”

Slaine gaped at him for a moment before collecting himself.  He had expected that response, but the speed with which Inaho had made the decision without even knowing what it would do to him was still a little staggering.  This was Inaho’s answer to ‘would you give anything?’

Slaine exhaled.  “You won’t die.  There is an ointment that will allow you to see them, but after several hours the eye imbued with magic won’t be able to see anything at all.  I brought it in case, but I wasn’t expecting to really use it.” He truly hadn’t, because up till now he had been desperately relying on the hope that enough residual magic had stuck with him to get by outside of the Glade without anything extra.  Somehow, his rational side had planned a little better, and had taken the ointment along as a backup.  Obtaining it was an especially risky business, because the Princess would have cried if she’d known about it, and so he had needed to steal it without her finding out.

Asseylum did not know about this world, or how different it was from the Glade.  He might have asked her for a few spells to make the journey easier, but that would have necessitated explaining the various dangers and inconveniences to her, and then she might have revoked her permission for him to go entirely.  He was already walking on thin ice in that regard - it had taken him several weeks to convince her that she was needed at Court, and that she ought to send someone else to find her sister.  Naturally, he had suggested himself; not just to protect Princess Asseylum, but because this long lost sister was also someone he very much wanted to personally bring home.  Asseylum knew this as well, and her understanding of the latter was what in the end prevailed against her reluctance with the former.  Yet even knowing how she would feel about the ointment, and what the consequences would be of using it, Slaine had taken it, because if luck did not favor him on this mission, he would need a way to search. It was too important a quest to come home empty-handed.  

Now luck had favored him, and despite the guilt, he reached to unclasp the silver chain that encircled his neck, and slowly handed over the tiny vial that swung from it.  A clear liquid sparkled within its crystal walls, reflecting the sparse sunlight that filtered through the evergreen branches above and casting tiny flecks of dancing color on Inaho’s outstretched palm.

 ❋❋❋

 Inaho had expected that some form of cost would be required of him from the fairy, if he was able to find her and convince her to remove the spell from him, so one more sacrifice wasn’t too much of an issue.  However, it would be inconvenient if he lost his sight completely - he might become even more of a burden on Yuki until he could learn to function without it, and that was something he would rather avoid.  Time would be of the essence once the ointment was applied to the first eye.  He pocketed the vial and looked to Slaine once more.

“When is the best time to encounter fairies?”

“Just after sundown, or in the morning when the dew is still fresh.  During the warm midday we-... they sleep,” Slaine caught himself awkwardly, sounding a little despondent as he continued, “Though I admit I’m not sure about the fairies on this mountain.  Perhaps they differ from the ones at home…”

Inaho thought that was probably true, if the rumor was to be believed that the fairies on the West Mountain were for the most part outcasts and loners.  It was likely that they differed a great deal in social matters, but he had to wonder if it would make much of a difference in something natural like sleep.

“I think we should travel a little further,” added Slaine as he began to walk ahead, “and then make camp.  They will probably like the fire, and might even come to us on their own if they assume we can’t see them.  Then we can ask whether they’ve seen the Princess.”

Inaho watched him clamber up the hillside for a moment before following.  He disliked seeing the boy falter along the path; it always made him feel like something terrible would happen, and he would be powerless to do anything about it.  He would never try to catch someone again.  Not until this curse was lifted, anyway.  But Slaine was so unsteady, he found himself moving in spite of everything, on reflexes he had buried long ago.  Inaho pulled his gloves on more securely.

 ❋❋❋

 Starting the fire turned out to be a difficult feat in the damp forest, but eventually the they were able to get a decent blaze going.  Supper was a simple affair, and neither said much.  Inaho was running the various outcomes of this night in his mind, though he was fairly certain of his decision from the outset. Even if he was blinded, and they did not find the fairy after all, he would have at least prevented Slaine from using the ointment on himself.  That compensated for the loss somewhat, though he wasn’t sure it could be considered a satisfactory result overall.  Really, there was no reason for him to count it as a pro, considering he should reasonably feel no responsibility for Slaine.  That didn’t change the fact that he did, though.  Ever since he saw the boy collapse from hunger, he had felt responsible for him.  Maybe it was only because he’d never had someone to take care of before.  Or, maybe it was because Slaine was the first person to act normally around him.  Most would have run away after discovering what sort of creature he really was, but Slaine had not been phased by it at all.  He still wasn’t.  It was a different feeling, having to keep his distance from someone other than Yuki, who actually knew but didn’t seem to care.  It was comfortable and stressful at the same time.

The sun dipped behind the mountain, and accordingly Inaho reached into his pocket for the vial.  If all went well, they would be able to find the fairy soon.  If things didn’t work out as they hoped, they would have to come up with something else.  And while Inaho was sure he could continue trying to change his situation for years to come, he would much rather it be sooner than later.  Yuki shouldn’t have to take care of him forever, and he liked to think that, once cured, he would be able to live self-sufficiently, though in reality he well knew that his stigma would not lift along with the curse. A place in human society was something he would never have, regardless.

He watched Slaine thoughtfully chew his bread, and thought he seemed more fidgety than before.  It reminded him of how Yuki got restless when she had something to say to him that she didn’t want to say.  He wondered whether that was typical, or if people’s habits differed and meant different things.  Slaine had no reason to hold anything back from him, it wasn’t as though they were close friends or family.  They had nothing to lose by offending one another.  Even so, Slaine’s eyes remained downcast and evasive.

Inaho had seen lots of people’s eyes in his lifetime, before he’d begun avoiding them, but he’d never seen any quite like Slaine’s.  At first he thought it was the color, but then he might’ve seen a little girl with blue-green eyes once, a long time ago.  Now that he thought about it, she’d looked rather like Slaine in other ways, as well.  Slaine’s eyes had a look in them, though, that was different than most people’s. Maybe it was because the expressions Inaho was most used to were limited to the spectrum of disgust and fear, but he’d seen plenty that didn’t realize he was there.  Eyes that smiled, and laughed, and teased, and adored.  People who were enjoying each other’s company, unaware of the young reaper that quietly watched them from a distance.  There was a time when Yuki’s eyes sparkled, too, before they were tinged with the dull sheen of continual worry and weariness.

Slaine’s eyes were different.  They were full of life, despite the distant, melancholy look in them, like something wild and lonely.  Inaho wondered what the reason for that look could be.  As the light faded and the stars came out one by one, he removed his gloves and took the vial between two fingers, removing the cap very carefully with his other hand.  He laid an index finger over the open top, and turned the vial over once.  Would his own eyes look different after this?

Slaine’s gaze jumped to him as he lifted his hand to his left eye, but he didn’t say a word.  The liquid stung a little and Inaho blinked away the tears that tried to wash the substance out.  He’d barely had time to think about what he had just done to himself when a soft, purple glow nearby caught his attention.  There by the fire, sitting cross-legged and holding a stick thrice her own length, with some sort of mushroom poked onto the end of it, was a fairy. She seemed rather pleased with herself to have chanced upon such an opportunity, though her purple eyes bore a dark intensity that seemed somehow discordant with the calm sway of her little frame and the cheerful bob of her chestnut hair as she moved to some unsung tune.

She must have felt his eyes on her, because he’d hardly made the assessment that this was not the fairy they sought before she noticed that he was able to see her. She tensed a little, but didn’t move from where she sat toasting her mushroom.  Then her mouth opened, and he thought she was probably asking him something, but he couldn’t quite hear it, so he leaned a little closer and asked her to repeat it.  His sudden movement caused her some alarm, and she lept to her feet, holding the stick between them like a javelin.  After a wary moment, she lowered the stick a fraction and asked again: “Why can you see me?”

“Fairy ointment,” he explained simply, and then added, before she could decide whether she liked that answer or not, “I’m looking for someone.  A fairy.  Can you help me find her?”

“That’ll turn you blind,” she replied with a skeptical look, as though he didn’t already know that. “If you’re wanting a guide, find someone else.  I’m not interested.”

“I only want to know if you’ve seen her.”  Inaho went on to describe the fairy princess.  He hardly expected the first fairy he came across to have seen her, but he would ask every single one of them until he found one that had, or until he went blind trying.

“Her?!”  The fairy stared at him as though he’d described a fantastic monster. “Nobody’s seen her.  Not recently, anyway; nowadays she never leaves her house.”

“Can you tell me where she lives?”

The fairy girl cast a wary glance at Slaine.  She leaned on her stick, placing a tiny hand on her leaf-clad hip. “I thought I told you already, I’m not interested.”

“You don’t need to guide us there.  We can find the place ourselves if you tell us where to go.”

She shook her head.  “No, you can’t.”

“We can. We have to.”

“You can't.  Perhaps if you were a fairy you could fly there easily, but humans have to go to all sorts of trouble to find it.  She doesn’t like visitors, either, from what I hear.”

Inaho hadn’t expected the pearl-haired fairy to be very sociable, so the news wasn’t all that surprising.  It didn’t matter one way or the other what sort of a person she was, so long as he could finally see her again, and make his request.  He did not, however, want to get lost on the way, if it really was as difficult to find as this fairy claimed.  They might need some sort of guide, after all.

“We really need to speak with her.  Do you know of anyone who might be willing to take us there?”

While he had been thinking the matter over, the girl had sat down again, and put the stick across her lap, and was in the process of testing the doneness of her mushroom when he asked the question.  She did not look up at him, but cast a quick glance at the thicket to their left. “I suppose I might know someone,” she answered coolly. “They’re sort of an airhead and might only get you lost, though, so don’t blame me if something goes horribly wrong.”

There was a faint, indignant shout from the thicket, and now Inaho was sure someone else was there.  He squinted at it, and a tiny face came into focus.  It peeked out from between two thick, glossy holly leaves, and a cluster of red berries rested on her head like baubles.  Her glow was also purple, but a bit more vibrant, and less intense than the fairy with the stick’s.  She must have been leaning on a twig, because a moment later it snapped beneath her, and three fairies came tumbling out of the thicket in a heap.  There was another girl, and a boy, both with hair the color of wheat.  The three tried to scramble back into the thicket all at once, but only ended up tangling themselves further, and getting nearly swallowed up by the autumn leaves that littered the ground.

“Wh-who are you calling an airhead, Rayet?!” demanded the girl with the purple glow, having given up her attempt at escape and now marching heatedly towards the first fairy, who must be called Rayet.

“Does it matter?” replied Rayet, her mouth all full of mushroom, “All of you are.”

There was a collective outrage amongst the others, and Inaho almost didn’t notice the soft laugh from across the fire.  He had actually forgotten Slaine was still there.  Rayet must also have heard the laugh, because her eyes were on him, more suspicious than ever.

“Can you hear us?” she asked flatly, and at that everyone hushed up in an instant.

Slaine cast a reluctant look her way.  “I can,” he answered with a quiet nod, “though not very well, and I still can’t see you.” The way his eyes missed her while he was looking right at her confirmed that he was not lying about that, and she seemed somewhat satisfied with the answer, though no less wary.

“What are you?” she inquired again.

Slaine scrunched his nose.  “That’s rude. I’m human.”

“Humans don’t notice our voices if they’re not looking right at us and making a great effort to listen.”

“I’ve lived my entire life with fairies,” reasoned Slaine, “It would be stranger if I didn’t notice your voices if I’m already aware that you’re speaking.”

“Hm.” She made no further comment, and took another bite of her mushroom.  It appeared he had confirmed something in her mind, which she was now mulling over quietly.

Slaine was now the one eyeing her suspiciously, but he let the matter rest. In the meantime, the other three fairies had begun to play some sort of game by the fire, and were running around it so recklessly with squeals and laughter that Inaho was afraid one of them would end up falling right into it.  They never did - they were far too nimble for that, and their magic, or their wings, would probably protect them anyway.  Seeing them reminded him of how he used to watch the village children play games together, too.  Back when keeping his mother and sister in the dark about what truly happened when they sent him out to play with the others was all that he’d had to worry about. Perhaps if he’d said something then, he would never have had to run away into the woods that day, and then he would never have encountered that fairy.  She must have known that they would be waiting for him to return, just before dark when the forest became too cold to endure any longer.  Had she followed him to the edge of the village to see her curse at work?

Inaho had always suspected there was something inherently wrong with him, he had even asked his mother about it once, though she had looked alarmed at the question and quickly assured him that he was mistaken.  He had never brought it up again after that - it wasn’t worth worrying her over something he couldn’t change.  And then the curse had only brought to light the deficiencies as a human that had always been there, that everyone but his family could plainly see from the time that he could walk.  It swept away any uncertainty on the matter when he never, not even now, felt responsible for those children’s deaths.  It wasn’t as though he could have stopped them, but he was supposed to feel guilty for it.  That was natural and right.  Regret or sadness, even, might have sufficed, but he’d only ever felt relieved.  Those children wouldn't hit him and push him down anymore, they'd never yell in his face or make him do awful things ever again.

“How awful, for a child to do such a thing.”  The horrified whispers began immediately.  “I always knew there was something eerie about him.”  “That boy murdered my child, why do they do nothing?  Why does he not pay for his crime?!”  They had no proof.  They would not burn a child, even if they did.  “A sorcerer disguised as a child.” “Possessed by demons.”  “A servant of the Devil.”  They thought of every possibility, except the one that was true. “A changeling” came closest to the mark, but he wasn't a fairy.  After a while it didn’t matter what he was, so long as he stayed away.  “Even his mother is afraid of him.  Look, he fell down and his knee is bleeding, and still she won’t go near him.”  If there had been any doubt in their minds that there was something terribly amiss with him, it was banished the moment she collapsed in the street, her arms still wrapped around him.

His mother had always been a strong woman, never giving up even after the scandalous and untimely death of her husband, enduring cheerfully as she worked herself thin to feed her two children and raise them all alone.  Inaho had never wanted her to know that the other children tormented him, that her precious child was disliked, hated; because he was different, and because their parents didn’t like her.  After that day, slowly, month by month, he had watched her succumb to despair.  Eventually, she could no longer bear it.  He would never really be sure whether the embrace had been an act of love, or if she had merely used him to take her own life.

“You should probably get going soon.” Rayet’s voice brought him back to the present. “That ointment only lasts so long.”

The other fairies had given up their game and were now sitting round the fire in a circle, toasting various foods on sticks.  They all looked a little surprised at Rayet’s words, and after a minute or so of whispering amongst themselves, finally the boy got to his feet, face very solemn, and explained to Inaho that fairy ointment would cause blindness in humans.

Rayet gave him an exasperated look. “He knows that already.  Are you going to guide them or not?”

“Count me in!  This place bores me to death,” chimed the girl with the blonde hair, whose glow was such a bright pink that it made her hard to look at.

The other girl seemed less enthusiastic, her tiny brow furrowed in serious thought as she drew circles in the dirt with her finger.  “I don’t think we should go there…” she said at last, so quietly that Inaho nearly didn’t hear it.

The boy seemed as though he was about to agree with her, and so Inaho quickly interjected with an offer.  “If it’s in my power, I’ll give anything you want in exchange.”

“Honey!” they all exclaimed at once, except for Rayet, who looked about ready to hit them all with her stick.  “You lot only think about your stomachs,” she muttered, though the way her eyes studied Inaho’s satchel, she was clearly also hoping that he would give them honey.

Inaho accordingly drew forth a jar of honey, and set it down amongst them.

“So much!” squeaked the purple one, eyes near as big as her head as she pressed her face to the glass and stared in awe at the sticky-sweet substance within. She seemed to have entirely forgotten her former opinion, and now readily agreed to their quest.

 ❋❋❋

 Even though Slaine could hear the fairies’ chatter, it was difficult to follow the sound of their voices.  Like the quiet rustle of trees in the wind, or the babbling of a brook, he could not quite tell where the sounds were coming from when they moved about, leading the way to the home of the princess.  Inaho walked a little ways ahead of him, and often glanced over one shoulder, probably to make sure that he was still there.  Slaine thought again of how little use he had been, nor would be. There was no reason for Inaho to bring him along now that he’d found fairy guides.  Inaho must know at this point that he was only being used, by someone who would put any opportunity to his advantage to achieve his own ends. Slaine could rationalize it all he wanted, that Inaho was the one who had asked for magic, that it had been his choice, that the self-serving results were only coincidental.  He wondered why he felt badly at all, because Asseylum and her sister were the only ones he ought to care about.  They were his mission, anything that fell in his path towards making amends with Lemrina, towards making Asseylum happy and bringing her last remaining family member home safely, was unimportant.  The guilt only grew.  It pooled and twisted in his stomach as he noticed Inaho look over his right shoulder, rather than the left as before.

After an hour or so of walking this way, Inaho came to a halt on the path ahead.  Slaine paused, as well, his heart beating fast as Inaho turned to face him.

“Is something wrong?  We can rest, if you’re tired.”

Slaine thought he ought to be the one asking that question.  Something was definitely wrong.  This was all wrong.  “No.  Nothing…” his gaze dropped to the ground.  “I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything to apologize for.”  Inaho turned to continue on, and added over his shoulder, “don’t walk so far behind, it’s too dark.  It’ll waste time if we get separated.”

It would be a waste of time to search for him out here, that was certain.  

 ❋❋❋

 The sun had long set by the time they reached the part of the mountain where she lived.

“This place gives me chills…” whispered one of the fairies, and Slaine had to agree. They were looking down into the yawning mouth of a cave, which beyond the first few steps, lit by the pale moonlight, gave no hints as to where to put one’s foot and proceed.  In the pitch blackness, he thought he might have caught the very pale glow of the fairies, but then it could just as easily have been his eyes playing tricks on him.

Even though he focused intently on placing each foot carefully as he clambered down after Inaho, there was apparently still much he had to learn about what would and would not bear the weight of a full sized human.  A root that felt secure when he grabbed hold of it, suddenly came loose the moment he tried to steady himself with it, and with a startled yell he went flailing backwards, snatching at thin air as he tried to right himself for the landing.  If the ground had been much further away, the fall might have been serious for both of them, but thankfully this cavern did not seem very deep after all.  It might actually have only been a hole in the hillside. He lay still for a moment to catch his breath and steady his shaking limbs.

“Are… are they alive?” came a small voice above him, and in the stillness of the cave he could now make out the faint flutter of their wings, like the whisper of petals in the breeze.

“They’re fine,” replied Rayet, who had for some reason come along after all, despite her adamant rejection of playing guide. “Humans aren’t that fragile.”

Slaine was just about to affirm their safety when he heard a shaky exhale beneath him.

“Please... get away from me…” Instead of harsh, the words were tremulous and barely audible.  That was when Slaine remembered that the impact with the ground was the least of their worries, and that their faces, the only parts of them not covered and bundled, were close enough to feel the other’s breath.  A little to the left and he would have died just then.

Slaine hastily scrambled to his feet.  He expected Inaho to follow, but there were no sounds of movement, only the nervous whispers of the fairies.  It was several minutes before he stood up, and they continued on their way in silence.

After that incident, Slaine made an effort to keep his distance, despite Inaho’s conflicting words of only a few hours before.  Somehow, the danger hadn’t felt real until it was quite literally staring him in the face.  Just then, he caught a glimpse of the other side, of the people who had lived alongside Inaho for all these years.  Painful as it must be to him, if what Inaho said was true, that someone had once died by his touch, then the villagers’ hatred was not unjustified, even if the crime was unintentional.  His mere existence was a threat to everyone they held dear.

The moon had never appeared so bright to him as the moment they came out into the open air again.  Even the stars that shimmered in swaths across the sky seemed more brilliant to him than they had even a little while before.  They had walked a great distance over the past several hours, and now that the trees were no longer shrouding the heavenscape above, it dominated their view, making even his human form feel small in comparison.  The ground beneath them sloped sharply down towards a glittering lake, cradled by the mountain like a bowl, and on its even surface grew soft grasses, weighed down here and there with patches of snow.

As unexpected as it was to enter this secluded little corrie, it was not nearly as surprising as the little house that met their eyes, built right into the hillside about halfway down.  He had expected a home of some sort, of course, but this was a human home, made of logs and stones and thatch. Smoke drifted from its chimney, and light glowed from its windows, just like Inaho’s home back at the village.

Inaho paused to thank the fairies, and tie up the honey in a cloth that would be easier for them to carry.  It still seemed like a great weight for them to lug back across the mountain, but he supposed they’d wind up stopping along the way to eat most of it anyway.  It was an odd sort of luck, their meeting such willing fairies, though he was beginning to wonder if Inaho had brought that honey along for just such a purpose.  He had never taken it out for them to eat during any of their meals, yet there it was, the perfect persuasion at the opportune moment.  Not that he wouldn’t have taken such a bribe himself, or wasn’t, in a sense, doing that very thing now, since after all he was still depending on Inaho for his basic sustenance.  Cunning was added to dangerous in his mind as he watched his travel companion start down the path towards the house.

   It had been many, many years since Inaho had last come so close to another person. Close enough that he could almost feel the warmth of a body not his own.  In that moment, he could hardly keep himself from reaching out and pulling Slaine closer, to feel the touch that he so feared and craved.

Slaine had gotten unusually distant since then, in a different, more cautious way than before, and Inaho could only assume that the boy had been shaken enough by such a close call to now look at him with a proper perspective.  While it meant he had less reason to worry about any more future accidents, Slaine’s former carelessness around him was something he hadn’t expected to miss.  It had been sort of nice, while it lasted.

Inaho shelved the matter as he shifted his attention to the unexpected view now before them.  Did the fairy live with a human?  Had these fairies led them astray, after all?  He inquired whether they were sure, and all of them confirmed it.

“I suppose she prefers this form, after all…” Slaine said half to himself as they approached the door, and Inaho was not quite sure what he meant by it.

“Are you sure you want to meet her?” he asked, hand raised to knock, “She might only curse you, too.”

Slaine’s gaze shifted away.  He seemed nervous, but muttered “I have to” nevertheless. It was a while before anyone came to the door, and Inaho feared no one was at home, despite the obvious signs of habitation.  He rapped again periodically in case - maybe she was asleep, or in the cellar, or was occupied with something.  Eventually, the door did open, and a girl appeared.  Immediately he assessed that she did not look like the fairy he had met in the forest all those years ago.  Rather than round and sapphire blue, her angled, dark-lashed eyes were almost perfect replicas of Slaine’s.  Even her hair, the color a perfect match, fell in the same soft layers, moved in the same light, airy way, though it reached to her shoulders where Slaine’s was cropped more closely to frame his face.

“Hm,” she regarded each of them in turn, and then smiled impishly, “The persecuted boy and the changeling prince… I expected you two might find this place eventually, but I never imagined you’d turn up together.”

She turned away from the door, leaving it open for them to enter, and paced across the smooth wood floor to a chair by the fire.  Inaho noted a slight limp in her step, and wondered whether it was chronic or a recent injury.  He filed the thought away as he stepped into the house, surveying the room at a glance. Only now that he was in the light did he notice the full extent of what had been slowly changing in his left eye during the night’s journey.  He was still able to see with it, but only light and shadow shifting in colors and shapes. It was almost more effective to simply close it and rely on his right.

Once she had settled comfortably, and pulled her knitting basket into her lap, she looked up at them and gestured to the sofa.  Inaho looked at it for a moment before sitting down.  He’d never actually seen such a nice piece of furniture, let alone sat on one with dirty clothes, though Slaine seemed so accustomed to his own cluelessness in the area of human conventions that one more oddity made no difference to him, and he plopped onto the upholstered seat without a second thought.  He was probably exhausted.  Inaho sat gingerly at the far end of the sofa.

The girl picked up her knitting needles, and coiled the yarn around her fingers. “You don’t seem surprised one bit by my appearance, Slaine.  Although, I suppose you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t already know the truth.”

Slaine frowned, staring hard at the floor and twisting the edge of his scarf between his fingers.  “Why do you live as a human?” he asked at last.

She tilted her head, letting her hands fall idle in her lap.  “Why do you live as a fairy?  It was what was decided for us.  A beautiful human boy to marry the beautiful fairy princess.  A perfect match.  They had no need for a defective, extra princess like me; one who was born flightless and sickly.  Did you enjoy a carefree life, while I learned the truth of myself, alone, neglected, and at last orphaned by the parents that were never mine?” She laughed bitterly. “Luck is a terrible thing... whether human or fairy, you can see people’s fates written plainly in their eyes.”  Her gaze shifted to Inaho as she spoke the last bit, and he was certain now that this was the pearl-haired fairy in human form.  He would never have guessed that she was a changeling girl, whom he might have met in this form in the past and never knew. She picked up her yarn again. “So, what is it?  What have you come to demand of me?”

Inaho did not let the opportunity slip by and promptly made his request.  “Please lift the curse you placed on me ten years ago.”

Her eyes narrowed a fraction and she purled an entire row before speaking.  “That was no curse.”

“Was it an accident, then?” inquired Slaine, for some reason getting involved. He had stopped staring holes into the floor and was now looking straight at her.

“It was intentional.  I saw a child in danger, and I protected it.  That is all.”

“You don’t seem very fond of people.  Why would you protect him?”

She shrugged one shoulder.  “A whim, I suppose.  Or perhaps it was revenge on the girls and boys who also found joy in tormenting the one other child that was not like them.  Do you remember me, Inaho?  I remember you.”

The girl with the blue-green eyes.  He only remembered seeing her once, but perhaps he had been too caught up in his own misery to notice her, if she had truly been there the whole time.  Whether revenge or protection, he could not resent her answer.  And if not for the catastrophic effect the spell had had on his own life, he might even have been understanding.  In the end, nothing would ever have been worth Yuki’s life.  It was never worth his mother’s.  And now, more than ever, he was realizing that if he remained this way any longer, he would never be able to stay near someone like Slaine, regardless of whether or not he was accepted.  The closer he came to anyone, the more urgent it would be that he put distance between them again.  It was too dangerous.

“If whatever purpose you had then is now fulfilled,” he said, “please undo the spell.”

The fire crackled noisily on the hearth, accompanied by the quiet clack and scrape of her needles.  Not a word passed between them.  Slaine appeared lost in thought, his eyes downcast and uncertain.

“And what about you, Slaine?”  The sudden sound of her voice drew both of the boys’ gazes back to her. “Why have you come here, after all these years?”

Slaine pressed his lips together, and did not look away this time.  “I’ve come to bring you home.”

 ❋❋❋

 Slaine had known that she would likely not be willing to return to the place that had once rejected her, but he had hoped she would, nonetheless.  The mocking smile that curled at her lips as she carefully tied two strands of yarn together was a confirmation of her disinterest.

“Home, you say?  This is my home.”

“Your sister, Princess Asseylum, wishes above all else to see you and-”

“It’s too late to make amends now.  If she wished to see me, she would have come herself.”

Slaine shook his head.  “I am the one that convinced her not to come, because I was afraid the journey would be too much for her.  She’s been very anxious ever since discovering that you were given away as a baby, and that no one had ever told her of your existence until she found out by mistake.  I assure you that she wants nothing more than to meet you now that she’s learned the truth. You are her one and only sister, after all.”

Lemrina pursed her lips and gave a small huff, though the look in her eyes confirmed that Slaine’s words came as a surprise to her.  “What sort of story did they tell her, I wonder…” she muttered, dropping her gaze.

“The same as they told me.  I was mercifully rescued from abandonment, and taken in by the fairies as one of their own.  And you… you never existed.”

No one said anything more for a while, and Slaine was beginning to think she would toss them out after all, given the displeased look she was giving her yarn. But then she gave a heavy sigh and said, “How about a compromise?  I will either remove the spell from Inaho, and Slaine will remain here with me, or I will return to the Glade, and the spell remains.  Slaine, you will decide.”

Slaine felt his stomach twist at those words.  A quick glance at Inaho did not help matters, as the boy was looking expectantly back at him, expression unreadable.

“Take your time and think about it,” said Lemrina, standing up and putting away her knitting.  Then she opened a door at the far end of the room and disappeared through it, returning a few minutes later with a wand.  It was not like the ones from the Glade, all silvery and forged of the purest silver and crystal, but rather made of wood, as though someone had whittled it until it was smooth and fit in one’s hand comfortably.  She moved some things aside to clear a space before the fire, and then with a soft intake of breath, she lifted her wand, eyes closed, and produced a feather mattress and warm blankets with a few whispered words.

“Even I would hardly put you out on a night like this,” she defended, when Slaine gave her a skeptical look. “It’ll rain soon, and there’s not many hours left till dawn, anyway.  You ought to sleep.”

 ❋❋❋

 When she had left the room, Slaine turned to offer the bed to Inaho, perhaps as some form of apology for this situation, but the words never left his mouth.  With Lemrina’s departure, Inaho had wilted, and suddenly looked very distressed.  Slaine’s lips pressed in a line, and he was afraid that if he spoke he would only do further damage, or worse, meet with a glare filled with a decade’s worth of repressed resentment, which had now found another worthy target.  He stood and glanced around the room for a suitable place to lay down.  The sofa was the most comfortable looking option, especially since it was reasonably close to the fire, but lying down on it would require asking Inaho move, which he was in no way prepared to do.  He would simply have to wait for Inaho to speak, or move, or do something other than sit in dismal silence.

Slaine was just turning to sit down again, when suddenly Inaho stood and began removing thick layers of outer clothing.  It was getting a little stuffy, since they were still bundled from their trek, but Slaine still felt a lurch of panic as his mind connected ‘pent up resentment’ with what Inaho was actually capable of doing to him if he so chose.  And then he realized that Lemrina had not actually given him the decision at all.

He had already concluded earlier that Inaho would do anything to regain his normalcy… would he?  Do anything…?  Perhaps his distress was due to the anticipation of having to kill one more time.  One last victim, a sacrifice to free himself and protect the one person he truly cared about.

Slaine took a step back as Inaho pulled off his gloves, stumbling over the curved leg of the sofa and falling to the floor.  Inaho’s eyes followed him, but he did not move from where he stood neatly folding his cloak.  Rather than bitterness, the look Slaine was met with was disillusionment.

“You’re afraid of me now, after all…” Inaho said quietly, crestfallen, as though he had just confirmed a growing suspicion. “I suppose you have no reason to believe me, but I won’t do anything.  You were the one tasked with deciding, so you should choose what’s best for you.”

“B-but… you…” Slaine fumbled, ashamed of himself for allowing fear to cloud his judgement, when Inaho had never been anything but generous to him.  The terror of a moment before had vanished, and now more than ever he felt terrible about all of this, about the ointment, about everything that had happened since meeting Inaho in the woods yesterday. Did everything work in his favor because of luck, as Lemrina said, or was it because he was selfish, and Inaho was not?  He had never wanted for anything, never had any real problems until a week ago, and even now everything settled conveniently into place for him.  He had also never disappointed, or abandoned, or betrayed Asseylum.  The idea of doing all three at once was terrifying.

Inaho seemed to notice the dread and doubt welling up in him, and offered an encouraging smile.  “I have no intention of giving up.  I have connections now… if it’s not too much trouble, would you mention my wish to Princess Asseylum?  Perhaps she can help me, instead.”

“But…” Slaine wasn’t so sure, given that the method by which spells were removed was often closely linked to how they were initially cast, and so Lemrina might actually be the only fairy with the knowledge to undo it.  If anyone else was skilled enough to succeed, it was Asseylum, but that was still a risky assumption.

“I’ve been living like this for most of my life,” reasoned Inaho, “I’ll be fine a while longer.  You’ve never lived outside the Glade, would you really be alright living in the middle of nowhere, with only a stranger who trapped you into staying here for a companion?”

Slaine got to his feet again and began taking off his own winter clothes as the warmth from the fire in the small room began to make him sweat.  “I’m sure she’s just lonely…” he said, and truly believed it.

Inaho shook his head.  “If that was all, she would go with you without conditions.  She’s only toying with us.”

“Perhaps, but that’s only because of how she’s been forced to live all this time.” He wasn’t sure that he should be defending her, since Inaho was likely correct, but she was still Asseylum’s sister. He couldn’t just assume the worst about her.

“You think too well of people,” warned Inaho as he set his shoes by the door, the last of his outer clothing, “that’s dangerous.”

“And you doubt them too easily.”

“When people are afraid of you, you see their true nature more often.  But I suppose you’ve had more experience with people in general than I have.”

Slaine laughed bitterly and sat down on the sofa again.  “I’m sure I have, but I’ve started to wonder recently whether the love and kindness I received from everyone at the Glade was simply a facade for their fear of my position as the future royal consort.  I should be less trusting after learning just how extensively I’ve been lied to all my life, but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be.”

Inaho sat as well, looking pensive.  “I see. In the end, you weren’t actually all that lucky.”

“No, I was. I won’t pretend that my life wasn’t perfect in nearly every way.  This changes little, fundamentally, but it does hurt.  I probably deserve it, for what became of Lemrina because of me.”

“Don’t you think it could be the other way around?  Are you sure that if you were in your proper homes, with your own parents, you both wouldn’t have had a good life?  It’s when others tamper with the way things ought to be that people become lucky or unlucky.  Before that, life is simply the choices we make.”

Slaine wasn’t sure he entirely believed that.  Sure, choices played a role, but there was chance involved, too.  “It sounds like you had it pretty bad before this spell, though,” he pointed out, “Are you saying that was your fault?”

“It was. I could have spoken up about it, but I didn’t.  In the end, my attempt to spare my mother’s feelings was precisely what shattered them. My silence killed her.”

Slaine frowned, drawing his knees up to his chest.  So, his mother...   “You’re awfully hard on yourself.  Besides, if your life was fine, you wouldn’t have been targeted in the first place. Obviously there were things beyond your control even back then.”

“... maybe.”

Silence settled between them, and Slaine glanced at the mattress.  They should probably sleep.  They had been awake since dawn, nearly an entire day, and he was beginning to really feel it.  Inaho had been yawning for the past half hour, as well.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he announced, taking one of the blankets from the bed and pulling it over him before Inaho could object.  “You’ve never slept in one before, right?” he added with a smirk. He had noted that Inaho’s home only had straw mattresses, and figured feather was probably too expensive for a commoner to own.  At home, Slaine slept on a dandelion down mattress, which was probably more comfortable than anything in the human world anyway, but he wasn’t about to mention that. In any case, the single mattress seemed to confirm Inaho’s theory that Lemrina was, in fact, toying with them. It was actually large enough for two, but she knew perfectly well that they couldn’t share it.

Slaine closed his eyes.  The sound of the fire on the hearth, and the steady rain that had begun to fall outside, lulled him softly to sleep.

“Thank you,” he heard just as he was drifting off.

Slaine shook his head, opening his eyes.  “There’s no need. Anything I’ve done was for my own benefit, too.  I should be thanking you...”

The rain poured down harder, making him even more grateful for the roof over their heads and the warm fire close by.  Inaho looked exceptionally comfortable in the fluffy bed, with the blanket pulled up to his chin.

“You considered my wish in earnest,” he said, catching Slaine’s gaze and smiling warmly, “You could have given her an answer immediately, but you didn’t. You’re very kind to me.  Thank you.”

 ❋❋❋

 Inaho sighed contentedly.  The bed was very comfortable, and he was sure he must have been sleeping in it for far too long, but the dreamless slumber he’d been blessed with until gently waking just now was the best he’d had in years.  The fire had not reduced to embers, as he would have expected, but rather continued tirelessly burning on the hearth.  He rolled to his opposite side to get a better estimate of the time of day, and also to see whether Slaine had awoken already.  A bit of dread hit him as he recalled the discussion of the night before, and the implications it held for him, and more importantly Yuki.

He blinked lazily, taking in that it was still daytime, as far as he could tell, though it was difficult to discern much more with the shutters closed.  The primary object of his attention was the deterioration that had completed in his left eye.  He reached up on reflex to touch it, perhaps an instinct to make sure it was still there, though he already understood what had happened.  He had done it to himself willingly.  Now he wondered for what.  In the end, he had still failed.

The soft thud of footsteps approached from somewhere behind him and before he could inquire who it was or what time of day he had slept to, Slaine was crouching in front of him, a cheerful glow in his eyes.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted with a smile, “did you rest well?”

Inaho nodded his head suspiciously.  Something was off, though nothing seemed particularly wrong, especially given the excitement Slaine was now exuding.  Inaho sank further under the blanket, pulse racing every time Slaine teetered towards him on the dubious balance of his toes.  He did not want to ask what made Slaine so happy, because despite everything he had said, giving up his own request was possibly the hardest thing he’d ever done.  Seeing Slaine’s vibrant eyes so exuberant was both painful and reassuring.

“Inaho?” Slaine leaned closer and peered at him with concern, “do you feel alright?”

He wasn’t entirely sure why he should not be feeling alright, but he nodded in answer and attempted to avert his gaze.  Physically, he was very comfortable, but in everything else he was far from it.  Slaine’s head angled to get a better view of him, following his eyes like a curious bird, and Inaho had never wanted so badly to touch someone.

“You’d best let him be for a while,” said Lemrina, though he had not seen or heard her enter the room.  Perhaps she had approached from his blind side; it would be awhile before his other senses bridged the gap.  “Slaine, I’m sure you’re acquainted with the physical effects of removing a spell that has been in place for so long.  He’ll need some time to rest.”

Inaho blinked at her.  Removing a spell?  From whom? He looked up at Slaine again, and this time noticed the fairy perched on his shoulder.  Her soft, pearly hair curved around her face in exactly the way he remembered it, while two tiny, jewel-like eyes watched him with guarded interest.  His hand flew automatically to his right eye, though there was no way he could have detected whether there was ointment in it or not.

“I haven’t done anything to your eyes,” assured Lemrina, “this home is a magical space.”

Inaho closed his eyes to think.  Had she really removed the curse?  If so, then that meant Slaine had chosen his request after all.  It crossed his mind that it could all just be a terrible joke, like those pranks the children used to play on him, where they would pretend to be kind to him and then laugh in his face when he foolishly believed it, but he couldn’t bear to think that Slaine was capable of something so cruel.

“Why did you do it?” he asked, voice muffled by the blanket.

The floorboards creaked as Slaine settled on them, sitting down more comfortably.

“I couldn’t leave you that way.  It’s okay, though… when I gave her my answer… well, you were right.  She was toying with us, just not in the way that we thought.”

“Testing.  It was the quickest way to determine what sort of people you really are,” Lemrina defended, “I have no interest in helping those who only care about themselves.”

“You’ll be going with Slaine to the Glade, then?” asked Inaho.

Lemrina coughed a little and looked away.  “I suppose…” she answered vaguely, and then quickly added, “but if I don’t like it, I’m returning home.”

 ❋❋❋

 It had been several hours since Inaho awoke, and still he said nothing. Lemrina had decided that they would depart for the Glade in two days time, though Inaho was of course welcome to return home whenever he pleased.  Slaine was hesitant to let him make the trek back to the village on his own, but in the end it was up to Inaho to decide.  In any case, Inaho did not seem to be in any hurry to go anywhere, and kept mostly to himself in a chair by the fire.  Only when suppertime arrived did he stir from his aloof state and offer to help with meal preparations.  Lemrina was not particularly talkative, either, but he found she was far more pleasant company than he would have imagined given her reputation.  It made him happy to know that this was Asseylum’s sister, and that the two would be reunited very soon.

When it was time for bed again, and Lemrina retired to her bedroom, Slaine finally mustered the courage to ask Inaho if something was wrong.  Lemrina did say that he might feel listless for a day or so as his body readjusted to its freedom from the spell, but it didn’t seem like that was the issue.

“I’m afraid to believe it,” answered Inaho with unexpected directness. “If she’s lying-”

“Then there would have been no point in your going to such lengths to ask it of her. You have to trust, Inaho.”

Inaho stared vacantly at the fire, his thumbs slowly circling each other in his lap. “It’s dangerous…” he murmured.

Slaine sighed.  “I know.”

If Inaho was too afraid to confirm the truth, then Slaine knew he would simply have to confirm it instead, and began looking for the right time to do so.  It would be a bad idea to frighten him by being too overt.

“I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight,” Inaho announced, and then waited for Slaine to move off of the furniture so that he could lie down on it.

Slaine did not budge.  “There’s no reason to switch, I’m perfectly comfortable where I am.”

It took some more convincing, but eventually Inaho did lie down on the mattress and closed his eyes.  Slaine waited until he was asleep before tiptoeing from the sofa to the mattress, and crawling carefully inside.  Inaho stirred slightly, but did not wake.  Now that he was so close, suddenly Slaine began to doubt Lemrina, as well.  He was almost positive that she should have no reason to deceive them, but that small part of uncertainty kept him neatly on his side of the bed for a long time.  Eventually, wrapped in warmth and soothed by the crackling fire and the soft breathing just beside him, he drifted off to sleep without ever verifying her words.

 ❋❋❋

 “Slaine?! Slaine!”  The frantic repetition of his name roused Slaine from sleep, and he blinked confusedly at the person calling it.  It was still dark, and the fire cast flickering shadows all over the room.

“Hm? Inaho?” he yawned, wondering why he was being woken in the middle of the night.

Inaho collapsed back onto the mattress and buried his face in blankets.  “You’re... alive…” he murmured.  “Why… why did you…”

So much for not scaring him.  The plan seemed to have backfired somewhat, but at least they now knew that Lemrina had not lied.  Or at least he assumed they did, because he must have been asleep during any contact between them.  Just to be doubly sure, and seizing a brief moment of fortitude, he reached out a finger and poked Inaho’s forehead, which was the only visible part of him.  Inaho pulled back and ducked under the blankets entirely.

“Inaho~” Slaine called softly.  He peeked under the blanket to be sure Inaho was alright, but it was too dark to see anything.  “I’m fine, see?  I’m talking to you, so I’m fine.  You’re really free of it.”

Inaho said nothing, and after a few minutes had passed Slaine thought he might have fallen asleep again.  That, or he was still reeling in shock.  But then he heard the gentle rustle of fabric and felt the blankets move just a little, and a warm hand tentatively touch his arm.  He shifted a bit just to assure Inaho that he was still breathing.

Slowly, fingers curled over his arm and rested there, and he heard Inaho sigh softly. “You’re too reckless…”  A pink face emerged from under the blankets and looked at him with something between relief and disapproval.

“Maybe,” Slaine admitted, “but if I didn’t do something you’d have continued living year after year under a curse that no longer exists.”  To him, and to most others, touch was something that occurred naturally on a daily basis - a helping hand extended, the embrace of a friend, the brush of arms while sitting side by side, an affectionate pat on the head. He could not fathom being so utterly starved as Inaho had been for the past ten years.  Continuing on that way out of fear would have been a tragedy.  “Besides,” he added, “better me than your sister.”

“No,” Inaho countered immediately, shaking his head, “you’re important to me, too.”

Slaine wasn’t sure whether to humor him or laugh and deny it.  “You’ve only known me for two days,” he pointed out instead.

“Why does that matter?”

Slaine opened his mouth to reply that two days wasn’t nearly enough time to consider someone as important as family, especially when one had such a cynical view of people in general, but the complete sincerity in Inaho’s eyes as he inquired why that wasn’t enough time made Slaine begin to second guess himself.  Maybe the truth was that he didn’t want any ties with someone he was preparing to part ways with, in all likelihood never to see again.  But now he realized it was too late for that.  He would never forget Inaho, the selfless boy who had looked out for him, the one who had been prepared to give up his most precious wish so that he could be happy.  Slaine inched further under the blanket, feeling the soft warmth of an arm link through his, and mumbled, “You’re the one who’s kind.”

   A pleasant breeze brought the aroma of honeysuckle and trumpet flowers in from the lattice outside the open window, carrying with it the sounds of spring. Inside the cottage, the warm scent of bread wafted up from the oven as Inaho reached in to remove the fresh, steaming loaf.  In some ways, everything had changed since that day.  In others, nothing had changed at all.  Inaho found himself living a life much the same as he always had, milling industriously about the house and garden, and keeping away from the villagers who would never believe the miracle that Slaine had given him.  Yet for what it was worth, though the loneliness crept deeper than it ever had before, and the days seemed emptier somehow, he no longer felt the gnawing dread and anxiety that had governed his life for so many years.  He knew the truth, if they didn’t.  And most importantly, Yuki was safe.  The glow in her amber eyes, every smile and embrace she had given him since his return, was worth the paltry loss of half his sight.  He wished it wasn’t also the gain and loss of the only friend he’d ever had.

Nothing could ever quite compare to the quiet, uneventful comfort of home, but ever since they parted ways, Inaho found himself wondering what had become of Slaine during all these months.  He supposed the two Princesses had been reunited, hopefully with success.  If Slaine was meant to wed Princess Asseylum, he could be preparing for his marriage by now.  He wasn’t sure at what age fairies were considered fit to wed, but his guess was that Asseylum must be a few years his senior, if Lemrina was his equal, and she might be eager to proceed with the union the moment Slaine came of age.  It all sounded very nice, having family and new family come together happily at last.

He was looking out of the window at the budding trees, which swayed gently against the backdrop of a cloudless sky, birds twittering busily amongst their branches, when a knock at the door roused him from his thoughts.  He stood up to answer it, and the moment he reached the door, his attention was called back to the window.

“Is that bread?!” said Slaine, peering in.  His eyes were fixed on the loaf and he looked fully prepared to climb right through the window to take it.

“It’s very hot,” Inaho quickly warned as Slaine actually did hoist himself through the open frame and trotted right over to the table.  In his concern for the safety of Slaine’s mouth, he forgot to be surprised by the sudden appearance of someone he thought he’d never see again. Eventually gathering his thoughts while Slaine seated himself in a chair, he asked the obvious: “What are you doing here?”

Slaine looked up at him, and then sheepishly twisted a strand of hair between his fingers.  “Er… I’m actually… I’d like to… I’ve… I’ve come to live with humans,” he finally said it, and then looked away quickly. “Would it be okay if I… stayed here for a little while… just until I find someplace to live…?”

“There’s no need to look elsewhere.  You already have a place to live.”  The words slipped out of his mouth before he’d really thought about them, but he didn’t regret it.

Slaine seemed confused by his answer and tilted his head.  “I’m not sure what you-”

“Stay here. Stay with me.”

Teal eyes blinked at him in surprise.  “A-are you… sure?  But there’s no room for me…”

“I’ll make room.”

Slaine stared at him for a long time before his expression slowly softened.  He smiled, a faint blush at his cheeks. “What if I don’t want to stay with you-”

“Then why did you come back?”  Why else would Slaine leave his royal life behind to come live amongst humans he didn’t know?  What could be the reason except that Slaine had wanted to see him again?

Slaine gnawed at his bottom lip as he turned away, an agitated look in his eyes. Without a word, he stood and paced across the kitchen to the adjoining bedroom, peering in critically and leaning heavily on the doorframe.  His soft, pale arms rested crossed against the thin fabric of his shirt, catching the afternoon light.

Inaho moved as though under some new spell, his mind tangled in a daydream.  He was standing beside Slaine now, he wanted to reach out, but his body would move no further, hands stubbornly drawn in to his sides.  A habit, a fear he still could not ignore.

“I suppose…” Slaine said suddenly, slowly, still looking away, and Inaho felt a warm hand slip into his.  Fingers laced lazily, palm against palm.  “I suppose I came because I wanted to choose my own life.  I wanted to live where you are.”

Inaho smiled, and drew their hands up, pressing the back of Slaine's to his cheek. “Then it's fine.”  He reached out his other hand to touch Slaine's face; warm, unfamiliar, no longer forbidden.  There were no more reasons to keep away.  His hand dropped to Slaines chest, searching for the gentle thrum of his heart, and he curled into him quietly.  Slaine's arms came up around him, and slowly, seeping into him, settling warm and comfortable like sunshine on his skin, a feeling took the place of the loneliness that had carved itself in him so deeply.  He sighed contentedly.  “We can start over together.”

   Fin

 ｡.:*☆☆*:.｡  

 Author’s Note

 Thank you for taking the time to read this story - I hope it was enjoyable!  I’m not very good with short stories, so it was a struggle from start to finish, and there’s a good bit I would’ve liked to develop more thoroughly (their cultural differences, Slaine’s life, the Areash family’s involvement, etc etc).  Originally I had something different in mind for the direction of the plot (a lighter story overall, if “hellish” would have allowed), but it sort of took off on its own, and there really is nothing for it when Inaho decides to angst it up. Luckily(?) for Slaine, that wound up giving him a pretty enviable fake life by contrast. :’D

 I’d like to thank Ryoku for her encouragement in this and all my writing endeavors, and for taking pity on me and helping me hash out some kind of workable idea for this after my months of floundering between a dozen other potential AUs.  And many thanks to Astor, as well, for sticking around and supporting me throughout all my daily, incessant whining and despairing, even when I ignored the very sound advice to withdraw if it was getting to be too stressful.  I’m very glad to have been able to complete a piece in time, and I’d never have been able to do it without them.

 A final thanks to Rosiel for her tireless dedication to this project and support of all the writers & artists involved.  Even long before the Orangebat games, she has always been one of the kindest, most faithful readers and commenters on all of my fics, for which I am incredibly grateful. ♡

 icinks