Every Fjorclay fic for the next thousand years is going to have this song for a title, huh?
Trigger Warnings: Trans pregnancy, implied childbirth, complications during said childbirth but! A happy ending, I promise
----
Fjord thinks back in the day their children were born and how much he's changed since then
Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3!
-----
Fjord was glad that there were some things he hadn’t lost.
A lot of things were poisoned for him now, things that he’d used to love, that had once seemed as much a part of him as his bones and ligaments. Taking them out and replacing them with something new had been a long, painful business but there were things he hadn’t lost.
The whisper of the shore on the stones still calmed him, in its regularity and gentleness like the comforting breath of a person you loved beside you in your bed at night. The tang of salt and smell drying seaweed, just on the verge of being something unpleasant but it was familiar. The many blues and greys and greens, half a hundred shades of so few colours, that could be seen in every turn of the waves. A rough kind of beauty, a natural kind that could be cold and raw if it wasn’t yours. Fjord hadn’t lost any of that, it still slowed his heartbeat and relaxed his muscles and brought a soft smile to his face as he walked along the shoreline.
And he’d gained something as well.
His son’s footsteps weren’t as sure as his own, he’d only learned to walk very recently and the mix of smooth pebbles and sand were proving difficult. But he still insisted on walking by himself. If his sisters were doing it, Fern had to do it too.
Up to a point. If Fjord looked back along the beach, he could see their daughters, gambolling through the surf, splashing and shrieking with laughter as they came up after each wave knocked them back. Their grey green fur was soaked and plastered to their too long limbs, their tufts of hair- pink for Hazel and black for Willow- were spiked up and already stiff with salt. Caduceus was amongst their chaos, up to his knees in water, never letting either girl go beyond the reach of his long arms, chuckling at how pleased they were to be tumbled back and rolled off their feet by the water.
Fern had joined in at first, hesitantly paddling up to his ankles, gripping his tail tightly in the hand that wasn’t latched onto Caduceus’ trousers. But he’d sobbed when the first wave had come up higher than his middle and had scampered on all fours back to Fjord, hiding under his arm.
Fjord hated seeing his youngest upset and frightened, of course he did, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel good to be the one he ran to for comfort and protection.
So he’d wrapped Fern up in one of his hoodies, big enough to be a dress on him, coming down to skate his shins and asked if he wanted to go for a walk instead, just the two of them. Those were the magic words for Fern, drying up his damp eyes and making him smile wide enough that Fjord could see his budding tusks poking over his lip.
So now he was walking along the shore, just the two of them, pausing every so often so Fern could catch up, tail wobbling behind him to help him keep his balance.
“You’re doing good, little man,” he smiled, knowing he didn’t need to raise his voice over the surf, Fern’s enormous ears would hear him.
Fern smiled back, the hood pulled up so his large golden eyes seemed to peer out at him. He’d laden the pocket of the hoodie with stones that had taken his fancy for one reason or another and was now wobbling a little too much for Fjord’s liking. So he held out a hand for him to grip, letting him steady himself, draw himself up to his full, not very considerable height so the top of his head only just brushed Fjord’s hip.
“Tell me a story, papa,” he hummed, leaning into him as they walked on.
Fjord had seen that coming. Fern loved a story, any story about his papa, his days on the Tide’s Breath or travelling the coasts, his days as a mercenary. A lot of them needed to be sanitized for his toddler, a lot of editing that needed doing before the words came out of his mouth but the way Fern’s eyes would shine, like his papa was a hero in every single one, mouthing along to the bits he knew best. It made everything that had happened to him feel worth it, like it really could all be a story that had been leading to something good.
And there was one story that was his favourite.
“Which story do you want, little man?” Fjord asked, even though he already knew the answer.
He pretended to consider, tilting his head and humming before grinning wide and bouncing on the balls of his feet, “I want the story where papa saved me!”
Fjord chuckled, running his thumb along his little knuckles, “You really like that one, don’t you?”
“Yes! It’s my favourite!”
“Well, if it’s your favourite…” Fjord hummed, as if he’d had no idea, as if it was news to him, “So. It starts when your daddy and I were up at the Grove with your nana and grandpa and all your aunties and your uncle…”
“And I wasn’t born yet, was I?” Fern added, one hand sunk in his pocket, making the stones clatter.
“No,” Fjord nodded, “You were still curled up real small in your daddy-”
“But I was the smallest, right?” Fern cheeped, “ Cos mean sisters were sitting on me and squishing me…”
“Little man, who's telling this story, me or you?” Fjord arched an eyebrow fondly.
Fern giggled, hiding his face against Fjord’s leg, “You, daddy…”
He would tell the story, Fjord thought, as his son stooped to pick up another pebble that shone with a smooth, polished blueness.
But it would always go a little differently in his head.
He had been playing with his braid anxiously all morning. Caduceus had woven it into the longer part of his hair on their first night sharing the cramped bedroom he’d slept in for the first fifty years of his life, crammed into the teenage firbolg sized bed that really wasn’t meant to accommodate a full sized Caduceus, his half orc husband and their three unborn children.
Fjord knew the braids in a firbolg’s hair had deep significance, showing what stage of their life they were in through the complex weaves of hair and the patterns shaved into the shorter fur around them. A firblog had only to look at Caduceus’ to know he followed Melora, that he came from the Blooming Grove, that he was wed and everywhere he’d travelled. There were braids for every birthday, for the day you left home, for your wedding day. And there was a braid awaiting the arrival of a child.
Caduceus had told him, in soft voices that wouldn’t carry and wake his family in the rooms perilously close to their own, that ‘mother’ and ‘father’ were common words. Firbolgs only needed one, byrd. Genderless and no limit to how many one person could have, it simply meant the person who had given them life and had promised to protect, love and guard the baby for the rest of their life. It was a title that was earned, rather than being a simple fact of biology.
“So you have as much a right to this as I do,” Caduceus had murmured, as he’d woven the braid into his black hair, fixing it with a bead made of sea glass, a gift he’d been waiting until their arrival to give him, “That’s what you are to them.”
And in that moment, every doubt that had gnawed at Fjord since Caduceus had pulled him into the back room of their cafe and asked in a quivering voice if they could go to the pharmacy on the way home, it was as if it had never been there. All the voices that told him he wasn’t worthy of this, that life had made a mistake in letting him have this kind of joy, they stopped for the first time in eight months. He’d surged into a kiss, holding Caduceus’ stomach between them and telling himself he could do this.
And now, with everything falling apart and those voices chattering so loud he barely kept both feet on the ground, Fjord held onto his braid and tried to remember when he’d believed it.
Something was very wrong. Even he, who was going off whatever knowledge he’d been able to glean from websites and had been gladly deferring to Constance the whole time, could sense it. It was in the anxious, set shoulders of the other Clay’s sharing the clearing with them, the way Calliope was pacing, how strained Corrin’s prayers had become, how tightly Clarabelle clutched the first two babies, tiny, perfect little girls Fjord already knew he would take apart the world for. Cad’s moans grew tight and cracked at the edges, the composure and focus he’d managed to maintain flaking away gradually and his grip on Fjord’s forearms becoming painfully tight. He was terrified, Fjord could see it, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it but share the sacred pool where every Clay since the grove was founded had been born and watch as it’s crystal waters began to turn accusingly red.
And when the tension finally broke, there was only a crushing silence. Not the rustling of the leaves in the winter air, not the ringing of Cad’s last cry, not the undergrowth moving. The grove held its breath, waiting, and received no reply.
All that came was Constance’s voice, soft and heavy, the hand that wasn’t holding the source of the terrible silence reaching to touch Caduceus’ face, “I’m so sorry, sweet one. It isn’t your fault, it just happens sometimes when there’s many…”
Caduceus pulled away, from her hand and out of Fjord’s arms, the first time in hours they hadn’t been touching. Water broke over the lip of the hot spring and soaked into the grass around them, blood and all steaming in the cold bite of winter air. The forest around them seemed to sigh, like it was in mourning too, some of the sunlight going out of the clearing. Sounding far away, Clarabelle started to cry and Colton cursed. And Caduceus, his shoulders heaved like he was still in labour, like his body thought if he kept going there would be something he could do to stop this. Sobs were rising in his chest, the heavy, broken kind that seemed like they would never stop.
The only thing that managed to tear it’s way out of his throat ahead of the tears was a rasping, shattering whisper, “Why...why would she do this?”
Fjord didn’t have to ask who his husband meant.
Inside, he seemed to split into several versions of himself, pulling in different directions. One strained towards Caduceus, to hold him and give him comfort he was in no state to accept. One lurched towards his daughters, now crying fitfully in their aunt’s arms as if they knew they should be three. One wanted to lash out in fury, at who he couldn’t have said. One just wanted to run, to flee and leave it all behind.
And one just stood and whispered bitterly, it’s your fault. Already, not even a second old, and you’ve failed. Why did you think you could do this?
Fjord felt oddly frozen, suspended for a moment, caught between all these versions of himself, unable to feel anything.
And then, a memory. A lashing storm, one of a hundred the Tide’s Breath had sailed through. But that time, for no reason other than simple bad luck borne of a worn robe or just the wrong balance or a shift in the wind, a mate had gone overboard. Lost had been the word immediately passed among the crew, as soon as they’d disappeared because how could it be anything else? But Vandran, his old captain, had said otherwise. He’d leapt over the side, snatched them from the grip of the rolling waves and heaved them back onto the rain soaked boards after nearly ten minutes of heart stopping waiting. And even then, when their skin had been pale and still and lifeless, Vandran had pounded on their chest, refusing to give up. Fjord remembered Sabian saying it was useless, they were beyond help, but Vandran had kept up that steady rhythm and then, in defiance of all the gods, they had sat up, heaved up what looked like half the ocean and taken a breath.
So much of Vandran that Fjord had worn like armour, he’d had to discard. Bits that were false and sour, bits that hurt more than they helped. But that was one thing his old captain gave him that he’d kept a hold of, the thing he’d realised standing on the bucking deck and watching colour come back into a face that had seemed dead.
To never give up on someone, not while there was still a chance.
In the present, in the middle of the grieving forest, Fjord snapped back into himself and surged upwards, water running down his body.
“Give them to me,” he said, voice tight and urgent, “Please, give them to me. Let me try.”
Constance could have argued, she could have told him in the same, sad tone that there wasn’t anything he could do. But her eyes, the colour of lavender in the winter, changed and she handed the baby to him.
Not his whole hand, not like Vandran had done. The baby was tiny, smaller even than their sisters, and looked even smaller in their stillness. Just his fingers, pressed to their breastbone, once, twice, three times, on and on in a regular pattern, keeping count in his curiously still mind. Fjord could smell water, not the earthy smell of the natural springs or the melting snow, but the sharp bite of salt water and he could hear the waves as blood rushed through his ears.
Behind him, through his sobs, Caduceus was begging in a faraway voice, “Please, Fjord, please, please…”
Caduceus had put everything into this up until now, aweing Fjord more every day for nine months. But this, this he could do for him. And he was not going to fail him.
When his mental count reached thirty, he bent and exhaled air into those tiny lungs, two heaving breaths to give them what they couldn’t take in themselves. Then more compressions, counting again, thirty to two breaths. The only sound was Caduceus’ high, thin pleading, and the sea that only Fjord could hear.
And the, finally, a small, spluttering cry, a new voice in the Grove.
Fjord laughed, delight rushing up to fill the vacuum inside him that had allowed him to work without falling apart. His chest felt like it might burst as he lifted the baby to his chest, and held them close, just in case anything else tried to ruin this moment.
Caduceus had burst into fresh tears of pure relief, rising up out of the water to throw his arms around them, trying to thank him but unable to get the words out. Still grinning because if he didn’t he’d break too, Fjord kissed his cheek and made gentle, soothing noises, both to his husband and to the baby. Their son.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, holding them both in the circle of his arms, “It’s all okay, we’re all here. We all made it.”
Because they didn’t pull away from each other for a while, because they just couldn’t bring themselves to, they didn’t see the flowers- the perfect ring of bright, white flowers that had sprung up out of nowhere around the edge of the pool, filling the air with their scent.
“Because you saved me, right papa?” Fern beamed, blinking up at him in adoration, “You saved me so the Wildmother sent the flowers as a present.”
There were a few things Fjord left out of the story when he told it to Fern, he clipped away a lot of the fear and downplayed it as much as he could but his favourite part was the flowers.
“She was welcoming you three,” Fjord nodded, “Because she knew you were special.”
“And because my papa saved me,” Fern insisted, tugging on his hand, “Because he’s a hero.”
Fjord’s throat felt like it was tightening as he bent and swept Fern into his arms, pebbles in his pocket rattling. He covered his little grey green cheeks in kisses, making him giggle and writhe, clinging to his shirt so he didn’t fall, not that Fjord would ever drop him.
“I don’t much care about being a hero,” he admitted, as his son’s tail buffeted him playfully, “I only care about being your hero.”
Fern giggled, reaching up to pat at his face, “Love you papa.”
Fjord smiled, swaying with his son bundled in his arms, listening to his daughters and husband laughing just behind them, safe and well.
It had been difficult, getting to where he was, building this new version of himself.
Baba have you ever talked about Charlie on here? 👀👀👀
I have not and this is criminal and must be rectified. Thank you for the reminder!
Okay so Cad’s obviously been alive a lot longer than the rest of the gang in the modern AU, he’s about eighty three. Which is the equivalent of their ages but still, he’s been around in a way they haven’t.
Anyway, they’re sat in Cad’s cafe, discussing Molly and Caleb’s upcoming baby and Molly makes a joke about only him and Nott being in the baby having club. And Cad just says so soft that he’s a father too?
Of course everyone’s jaw hits the floor because uh??? that has never been mentioned before???? Kind of a big thing not to mention???
Cad’s awkward about it, when he was the firbolg equivalent of about 18 (don’t make me work out how ages work for beings that live for hundreds of years) a handsome travelling sorcerer of a firbolg travelled through the grove (i...have a slight head canon it was a younger, pre simulacra Pumat). Cad, kind of going through a rebellious phase, snuck out and had a pretty interesting night with him amongst some bioluminescent mushrooms. Being a traveller, the guy of course moved on the next day...and a few months later cad realised he was pregnant.
It was very hard, being young and still grappling with his gender and sexuality and having a kid to look after now. It was just the one baby, odd for a firbolg and this was Charlie. Cad did love Charlie so much, of course, but all that love terrified him honestly and he kind of kept his distance out of terror of messing up this whole fatherhood thing he wasn’t really ready for.
Charlie’s been living at the grove with his family while Cad earns money in the city to support him, he feels like that’s the best way to be a good father. Of course when he gets with Fjord, Cad grows a lot more confident and gets much more mature? And he decides it’s time for Charlie to come live with him. This causes a lot of friction with his family actually, who’re struggling to see Cad as who he is now rather than the kind of irresponsible kid that he was.
Charlie is toddler age at this point and he just adores this green man who lives with his papa. Fjord really grows into being a father too, he’s caring and soft and sings him sea lullabies. They’re a wonderful little family.
apricity: (n.) the warmth of the sun in the winter
—-
Caduceus didn’t realise where he was going, where his feet were taking him, until he was nearly there. When he realised, he gave a resigned sigh and kept going.
Some things didn’t change. Even when you thought they had.
The clearing was tucked away so neatly behind some overgrown hawthorn bushes that you’d never know it was there unless you pushed through them. Cad wasn’t fool enough to think that there was a single corner of the Blooming Grove that his family didn’t know about but this was always the easiest place to pretend he had privacy.
However, he did remember squirming between these bushes to be a lot easier when he was a little one. And when he wasn’t eight months pregnant.
It was still doable, however, with a whispered plea to the bushes themselves to just give him a break. He must have sounded suitably exhausted because they parted immediately, heavy berries swaying with the movement, the frost that encased them catching the pale sunlight. Cad thanked them sincerely and stepped once again into his childhood bolt hole.
A twisted ash tree, ancient and wearing fungus and polypores the way an aging dame would wear fabulous jewels, had been bowed by time and wind and winters like this one, it’s branches spreading out to form a slightly domed roof. The trunk was sunken slightly, giving a perfect place to set your back and sit beneath it and everything was always close and slightly warmer than it was beyond. The way the shadows fell, like fingers, it made Cad feel like he was in the grasp of someone, small and supported and safe. He felt hidden.
Easing himself down against the tree was more difficult now he was large and unwieldy, in far less control of his body than he’d ever been. But he managed. He sighed and let his eyes close, deflating a little, putting a hand on his stomach the way he’d been doing ever since he was made aware of the three little lives taking shape inside it.
He needed to stop getting worked up like that. It wasn’t good for the babies.
Cad hadn’t meant to get frustrated, he never did. But it was getting harder and harder to bite down on thoughts he never even would have entertained back when he was younger and the Grove was the only home he knew and ever expected to know. Back then, he’d just turned them into a hard little knot in the back of his mind and covered them with other thoughts, telling himself sternly that he had no right to entertain them. They were his parents. They were his family.
They were always right and he wasn’t.
But then maybe if he hadn’t spent his childhood and adolescence thinking that way, he would have spent less hours sitting in this little clearing wondering why he was angry and feeling guilty about it.
Caduceus exhaled and leaned back, grimacing slightly at an internal kick aimed directly at something vital inside him, “Hey, hey…”
“They’re still acting up, huh?”
Caduceus looked up, not surprised or startled, though he did blush. Fjord’s entrance through the hawthorns wasn’t as smooth and he ended up with curls of cracked ice on his shoulders and a few twigs in his hair, though he seemed far more focused on Caduceus.
“It’s a little cold to be sitting outside,” Fjord approached gently, like his husband might bolt again, “Don’t you think?”
“I don’t get cold easy,” Cad shrugged, trying not to sound petulant, like Fjord wasn’t right to be treating him with kid gloves right now, “I’m covered in fur and my stomach’s a space heater.”
Fjord laughed at that, though it wasn’t meant to be a joke. He came up and gestured to the spot next to Cad, “Can I sit there?”
Cad swallowed, touched that Fjord would ask permission, nodding hard. He realised then how much he wanted him near. As soon as he was seated, the frost covered grass crunching underneath him, Cad leaned into his shoulder. He was wearing the battered old coat Cad liked to see him in, the one he’d given him way back when they’d started dating, worried his fur-less boyfriend would get too cold in the winter.
“So…I was out back chopping logs for your mother but it sounds like you and your brother had a bit of a bust up?” Fjord began levelly.
Cad felt his cheeks heat up more, “He just…he just made some comment.”
“Ah,” Fjord made a non committal sound, waiting to see if his husband would elaborate.
“Just something about the city not being a good place to raise children,” Cad muttered, “He wasn’t…I mean, it’s just his opinion but…”
Fjord nodded slowly, pulling in closer, both because he could tell Caduceus needed some comfort and because he was growing cold.
“They’re still acting like my moving out was some reckless teenage thing,” he eventually got out, voice shrinking, “Like they’re still waiting for me to realise it was a mistake and come home with my tail between my legs. They don’t understand it’s my life now.”
Fjord nodded, reaching over to put a hand on his knee, “They do seem like they’re trying to be very…patient.”
“Exactly!” relief seemed to flood Cad’s features and suddenly the words were pouring out, “It’s just the same as when I brought Charlie home with us. They still see me as a little kid, like they don’t have to take anything I do seriously because it’s ‘oh, Cad will come to his senses soon and come back and run the Grove while we go do exactly what we’re telling him he shouldn’t be doing’…and it isn’t fair! It’s not fair to you or Charlie or the babies or…or me!”
Cad winced as those last words echoed through the clearing, caught in the ash’s fingers and bounced back at him. His ears fell and he cringed, like he was expecting someone to come and punish him immediately for saying what he’d said.
But Fjord only looked at him with a gentle sadness, hand still stroking his knee, “Cad, you’re allowed to feel what you feel. There isn’t anything wrong with being frustrated with the people you’re closest to. I mean, hell, you get annoyed with me sometimes, right? And you still love me.”
Cad blushed at that, “But you’re perfect…”
Fjord chuckled, leaning in and kissing his cheek. His lips were cold.
“I’m not. No one is, not even your family. But they adore you. Love’s funny, it sometimes makes you say things and think things that, in the end, aren’t best for everyone. But part of loving people is being able to say what you’re feeling and work with them to make everyone happy again.”
Cad bit his lip, nodding slowly, hands coming to cradle his belly like a comfort blanket, “I know…and I love them too. I really do. That’s why I wanted to have my babies here.”
“And we’ll all love them just as much too,” Fjord shrugs, “And we’ll make mistakes too and work through them and get better because of them. That’s how family works.”
Cad exhaled, resting back against the tree, looking up through the branches. The sunlight caught in the snow resting in the forks and boughs and turning the leaves to glass, split and shone in all directions.
“When did you get so insightful?” he murmured.
Fjord laughed, “When you sent me to therapy.”
“Oh yes. I remember. That makes sense.”
Fjord grinned, leaning in and kissing him again. Cad turned to meet it this time, catching his mouth, ears twitching happily. It lasted a good few heartbeats, the only sound around them the song of the birds who braved the snow.
Eventually, Cad drew back and sighed, “Okay…best go back to the house, I have some apologies to make. And a conversation to have, I suppose.”
“Alright,” Fjord nodded, “Let me know if you’re getting worked up though. Stressful situations can trigger labour.”
“I might be okay with that,” Cad winced as he rose up and all his new weight surged downwards again, concentrating in his already unhappy ankles and tailbone, “Joking.” Fjord had been spending the last eight months fretting constantly and he wasn’t eager to set him off.
As adorable as it was.
“And you are perfect,” he added, catching Fjord’s hand and threading their fingers together, “Just so you know.”
Huge huge thanks as always to my betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian
Please leave a comment on Ao3 if you’re enjoying!
Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5
-----
Cad and Fjord deal with the fallout
-----
There was precisely one phone in the entirety of the blooming grove. Well, one phone that wasn’t secret anyway; Caduceus had long suspected that Clara had managed to get her hands on one and was keeping it stuffed under her pillow. The phone that wasn’t a secret was just outside of the family’s sprawling, listing cottage, a little ways off into the woods though not too deep in where the light started to fade. It was an old phone box, placed where one had no earthly right to be, far too overgrown with branches and moss to still be functional, far too ancient to have any connection to the modern phone service. But still, it worked.
And Caduceus knew if he called it, they would hear him and they would answer.
He’d sunk so much of his time, his gold and himself into the cafe that his apartment was rather spare by comparison. It was a studio, so small he banged his elbows and head constantly, a little kitchenette opening out onto a living space dominated by plant life, a bedroom only big enough for a bed that would actually accomodate all of him, a shower that he could only get to aim as high as his shoulders so he had to duck.
It often felt claustrophobic and Caduceus was feeling the full effects of it right now, sitting cross legged on his bed and trying to remember to breathe. One hand clutching his phone, the other hand stroking the crocheted comforter underneath him because it felt nice and his hands couldn’t sit still when he was anxious, they needed to be touching something, like he was expecting the whole world to tip suddenly and needed to hang on.
He knew the number, of course he did. When he was little, it was the only one he’d ever had to know, not that he’d need it. When would he be anywhere but in the grove itself? He was the good boy, the devoted son, the promised one. He would always be in the heart of it, watching over it all and keeping it safe, telling himself he was happy in his work but all the while straining his ears to hear that phone ringing, or the front gate creaking, signalling his family’s return. Or, at least, some sign that he hadn’t been completely forgotten.
That wasn’t fair. He had been happy in his task, tending the grove and the plants and animals that were it’s cells, never far from his god. It was just that he’d outgrown it. He’d changed. He’d done what everything in nature was supposed to do.
And that was where the trouble had begun.
Caduceus felt the full weight of that trouble press down on him as he held the phone in his hand and repeated the number again, over and over. Trouble he’d caused, trouble he’d cultivated and allowed to grow when he could have kept it inside himself.
He didn’t want to face it. He felt small and cowardly but he just didn’t. Whatever mad impulse had brought him here, sat on his bed at midnight when he really should have been asleep, was starting to fade.
But not enough. If there was anything he’d learned today, it was that time could slip through your fingers faster than you’d ever imagined. There was no time to indulge bad feelings and ignore hard decisions.
Before he could flinch, he typed in the numbers and held the phone to his ear.
The rings seemed to echo in his chest, buzzing through him until it was almost unbearable. He tried to count them and anchor himself but he couldn’t, it was like his skull was full of them, darting this way and that like angry, black flies.
“Caduceus?”
Everything stopped. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to make the words come out at first, his throat closed up so sudden and so tight, but then they did.
“Mama…”
“Oh Caduceus,” her voice was tight with emotion and sounded so tinny through the phone but it was her, her inherent calmness and power and confidence that had guided him through so much of his life, “My boy...I was so hoping you would call, every day I hoped…”
Cad felt his mouth twist in grief, “I’m sorry, Mama, I...I didn’t want to leave it the way I did…”
There had been no shouting, as he’d told Fjord, Clay’s didn’t yell or raise their voices. But there had been a cold and a distance that was just as devastating. And he’d had his fair share of blame for that.
“Neither did I, Caduceus,” his mother said, voice softening, “But please, my boy, it’s okay. Just tell me you’re alright….”
“I am okay, Mama,” Cad didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, of course that would be her first concern, “I promise, I’m okay.”
She exhaled, like she’d been waiting to hear those words for a long time, “I’m sorry, of course we love your letters but it’s just so good to hear it in your voice.”
Cad smiled, closing his eyes so he could picture her better. People thought he was tall but he had nothing on Constance Clay who was an oak made flesh, towering and strong and safe. The braids that framed her face were always a favourite target for his grabbing toddler hands and a model for his own when he grew, though he could never match her intricacy. She looked so much like him, more than his papa, more long than round, wiry. Caduceus had always hoped that one day he’d be as strong as she was, rather than feeling like he bent in every stiff breeze.
“It’s good to hear you too, Mama…”
There was a pause before she spoke again, “My boy, are you sure you’re alright?”
Really, he’d been a fool to think she wouldn’t notice. Her sharp purple eyes, the colour of new bloomed violets, didn’t miss anything and apparently neither did her ears. When he’d done something wrong- broken a plant pot and promptly fled or lured his brother outside in the rain then locked him out- Constance had always known without any need for investigation. When he was sad without really knowing why or he’d been angry at nothing or had one of those childhood bad moods brought on solely by tiredness, she had known why and explained to him patiently or else just pressed a cup of tea on him that somehow sorted him out.
“It’s just…” he sighed, wanting one of those cups of tea very badly right now, “It’s just been a hard day, Mama.”
That was an understatement. Since Fjord had made his doorstep announcement, the whole atmosphere had frosted, every interaction between them difficult and awkward and stiff. It was as if the past months where they’d laughed and talked and tangled their lives together had never happened, all of that growth trampled down. Both had breathed a sigh of relief when any customer had walked in and given them some relief from the gasping silence but that didn’t happen nearly enough. Far too much time having to make up tasks to keep the maximum amount of space between them so they could pretend the emotional distance that had been thrown up between them was there by choice. Afraid to look at each other, afraid to speak, feeling every tick of the clock like a blow. And as soon as the sign had flipped to closed, Cad didn’t think the cafe had ever been packed down so quick and in such horrible, awkward silence.
And tomorrow they’d need to do it all again. And then he’d likely never see Fjord again, certainly never the vulnerable, soft, hopeful young man that, yes he couldn’t lie, he’d lost his heart to.
For all the good that would do him.
“Some days are, my boy,” his mama said gently, “And some days aren’t. Those days will come back around again.”
Cad felt the tears break free from behind his eyelids and drip down his cheeks, catching in his fur, “I just...I thought I did everything right, Mama. I was so sure of it but I just ended up making it so much worse and now he’s in real danger. I thought he...I thought he wanted to be close to me but I was just being an idiot.”
There was a soft sigh at the other end of the line, like a breeze through tall grass, “There are some choices we can’t make for others, no matter how much we want to. You taught me that, my boy.”
“I...I did?”
“You did. I made a choice for you in my own head, we all did, and we never even asked if that was what you wanted,” Constance’s voice was soft, “And I’m very sorry for that, Caduceus.”
It was so strange to hear his own parent apologising to him, like he hadn’t quite heard her right, like it was a language he’d forgotten. But something deep inside him exhaled at those words.
“I’m sorry too,” he murmured, his voice thick with his tears, “For how I left, for...for it all, I guess. That this was the path I needed to go down.”
“Don’t apologise for that,” her voice was soft, not an admonishment, “That wasn’t your doing. And...well, I would have railed against anything that took my boy far from me, even if it came from our goddess' own lips. Just as I railed against what took me away from you for all those years. But again...some things we can’t change. Like we said.”
Cad sat back, leaning against the wall. He’d never considered that, that all the missions taking his family away from the grove and away from him, had sat unkindly with everyone.
“But I don’t know what to do, Mama,” he eventually sighed, “He’s slipping out of my reach and I still want to help him so badly but the more I help, the further away he seems to get.”
“The only thing you can do, my boy, is what we all have to learn to do, me included,” Constance replied, “We need to have faith that happiness and safety will find those we love, in the way that suits them best. We can’t force it on them or steer them towards it...but we can leave the light on for them. No matter what.”
Cad nodded slowly, seeing the wisdom in that. It wasn’t what he wanted to be told, of course, he wanted to be told that there were some magic words he could say to Fjord to make him suddenly stay and give him his heart and make everything perfect. But there was some peace in accepting that just wasn’t possible.
He felt his mother’s words slip under the heavy, dark weight in his chest and help him lift it just that little bit higher.
It would be so easy just to say the words, say he wanted to come home. To run back to the grove and hide away from the world that had hurt him so much and leave behind the world he loved so much. To go back to where his tasks were small and simple and made sense and he was never at risk.
But that wasn’t his path. That wasn’t growing.
“I am proud of you, Caduceus,” Constance murmured, “And I am sorry it took me so long to get here.”
“And I’m sorry it took me so long to call,” Caduceus managed a shaky smile, earning him his mother’s dry chuckle that he’d missed more than he’d realised.
“You could always come for a visit if you needed some space?” Constance hummed, hope in her voice, before she hastily added, “Only if you wanted to, of course. There’s no pressure.”
Those words sounded so strange in her voice that Cad had to laugh, “Okay, mama. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome...and I hope things work out with him, Caduceus. I really do.”
Cad’s smile turned wan, “No comment on me basically coming out to you then?”
“Oh, my boy, did you think I was blind?”
Cad laughed harder, wondering how his mama’s magic worked, how she’d gotten him to laugh so freely when he’d felt so broken just five minutes ago, when he knew the pain would come rushing back at him as soon as he was alone again, “I suppose…and it is the second time, I guess. Technically”
“Then I will tell you the same thing I told you when you came out as trans,” Constance murmured, “You are mine and I love the very bones of you. And nothing will change that.”
Caduceus folded his free arm around himself and imagined she was holding him, “I liked hearing it again…but I should go, mama. I’ll call soon.”
“Good,” Constance had a smile in her voice, “Sleep well, my boy, and have faith. I love you.”
“I love you too, mama…”
It was painful, when he pressed the button and the silence flooded in, just the buzz of the electricity in the wires, other conversations happening all over the city. There was still so much more to say, to his mama, to the rest of his family.
But he could see the light left on for him. And it helped so much.
Rather soon into their conversation, Cad had to ask Beau and Fjord to take it outside. It was getting too loud.
He watched them through the window, past the giant mushroom Jester had painted so long ago, saw their faces redden and contort with anger and frustration, their hands gesturing, Beau somehow managing to loom over him despite the significant height advantage and force him to have to push back. He couldn’t hear what they were saying through the glass but he could guess at it.
The Nein had been coming in dribs and drabs to say their goodbyes to Fjord all day and none had been pretty to watch. It was clear that none of their friends were pleased by the decisions he was making but they hid their anger and misgivings in genuine hugs and well wishes.
Beau was clearly not willing to do that.
She’d thrown back the door about an hour before closing, when there’d just been a few customers in line to get a coffee for their commute home, pointed at Fjord who was in the middle of putting fresh flowers on the tables and loudly asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing.
That was when Caduceus had asked them to step outside.
He did catch a few snatches of their exchange, as alarmed looking customers entered and left.
“You’re a fucking coward, ignoring my calls all day like I wasn’t going to come down here and confront you…”
“I don’t need your approval for every decision I make, Beau!”
“After everything Caduceus has done for you…”
“Where was all this last time I went offshore? Just because it’s with Avantika you have a problem?”
“FUCKING EXACTLY!”
Cad winced, trying to busy himself with the dishes, trying not to look like he was watching. But he did see when eventually Beau and Fjord made the same, eerily similar gesture of frustration and broke apart, Beau storming off down the street and Fjord stomping back into the cafe. His hands were shaking and he was still muttering under his breath as he went back to the flowers, somehow managing to set them out with such anger that Cad was afraid the pots would crack.
Cad wanted to call out to him. He wanted to hold him and let him cry and tell him everything was going to be okay, that the words and the wounds they’d made would fade and they’d be friends again.
But he didn’t. He just watched though the hatch as Fjord swallowed more anger and more shame and let it become part of himself.
The last few minutes of the work day ticked away and Cad realised that was it. No miracle had manifested, no sudden change of heart. Fjord wouldn’t be turning up at 6am just like he had been for the last months, making Cad’s day brighter just by walking through the door. It sank in which such horrible sharpness that he couldn’t believe something he’d already known could hurt him so much.
But he packed it away, put it on a shelf so he could take it down later and deal with it. All he needed to do now was be a friend to Fjord.
“I guess I’ll let you choose the music,” he said, coming out from behind the counter and approaching the speakers, “Seeing as it’s your last chance. Anything but that one from the other day.”
Fjord gave a strained smile, “Rap is poetry, man. You just don’t get it.”
“Oh, I agree that rap is poetry,” Cad raised an eyebrow, “But that wasn’t rap you put on. It was someone having a seizure into a microphone.”
That got him a rough laugh, “Fine, not that. Just let your playlist run...I, um, I actually like everything you’ve got on there. I’ve been listening to a lot of it outside of here. Learning some of it in the guitar too, actually.”
Cad opened his mouth to gently joke that he’d have to play him something, maybe do an open mic at the cafe one weekend, before he realised that would never happen. So he just weakly said, “That’s great.”
The days were getting longer and warmer so the sunsets were getting bigger. The whole place seemed flooded with an orange glow, the sky’s fire bleeding in through the windows and making everything seem so otherworldly. But still, in this strange other world, they went about their usual jobs- setting the chairs on the tables after wiping them down, sweeping away the crumbs to vacuum up, watering the plants and moving them around- like things weren‘t different. Like all days after would be the same.
They talked. Haltingly at first, awkwardly, but then something clicked and before long they were laughing over small things like they’d always done, Cad talked to his plants and Fjord whistled while he worked, being blissfully silly, sharing their tiredness and their sense of jobs well done. As if they’d both realised they needed this.
And too soon, it was over. There were no more tasks left, the day had ended under them and left them floundering. They’d stretched it out as much as they could, suddenly deciding without a single word needing to be exchanged that the tea boxes needed dusting and the kettle needed deliming and Helga needed a polish.
It was dark by the time they finished, their beautiful golden moment lost to a cool, purple night and the two of them stood, looking at each other by the door and waiting to see what would happen next.
“Well…” Fjord cleared his throat, untying his apron and folding it up, “I guess I should give you this back.”
“Oh no,” Cad shook his head, “Please keep it. I made it for you.”
Fjord’s cheeks darkened, “Thanks...I don’t know what use I’d have for it on a ship but thanks…”
“Well maybe this will give you an excuse,” Caduceus pulled a box out from behind his back, “I made you a cherry and strawberry pie. And I wrote the recipe on the inside of the box so you could make some of your own. I thought maybe when you were in port you coud treat yourself?”
Fjord chuckled, taking the box, “Thanks Caddy. That’s real nice. I can’t believe you remembered my favourite thing…”
Cad fought to keep his smile on his face at the fact that Fjord didn’t even think himself worthy of a small amount of his memory, “Of course I remembered. You’re my friend, Fjord.”
He bit his lip, eyes sliding down like he couldn’t bear the weight of that, quickly continuing, “It’s gonna be real hard avoiding the temptation to just eat the whole thing on the bus ride back.”
Cad frowned, “The bus?”
Fjord blinked, like he didn’t see why that was worth picking up on, “Oh yes, um, Avantika is out in town getting things for the move and she can’t swing by, it’s no trouble getting the bus home. It's kind of long but I like it, I listen to podcasts and stuff...”
Cad sighed, ears drooping, “Fjord, please let me drive you home. Please. It’s so late.”
“Cad, I can’t let you do that, it’s so far out of your way…”
“Fjord, I want to do this for you,” Cad spoke slowly, carefully, trying so hard not to say more than he wanted to, “You’re my friend and it’s late and cold and I want to give you a ride home. Please?”
Fjord seemed to flounder for a moment but then, thank god, he nodded, “As long as you really don’t mind…”
“Not at all,” Cad insisted, smiling gently, “Thank you.”
Cad’s car was something of an engineering marvel, exclusively because it was still running. He’d had it since the grove, finding the shell of it in the forest and slowly acquiring the pieces he needed to get it running again, fixing it up to run on biofuel. You could find most anything in amongst the trees, if you looked hard enough. There was still fungus growing in the glove compartment and branches in the front grate that he couldn’t take out because he was pretty sure they were part of the engine now but it was enough to get him from work and back.
The hideous shade of electric purple had been his own choice.
Fjord looked alarmed when he saw it, “Mercy…”
“It still runs,” Cad insisted, moving into the driver's seat, “Just some soil on the floor, that’s all. Oh, you’ll need to move the bee bucket, just toss it in the back.”
“The...bee bucket?” Fjord said uncertainty, holding the bright yellow bucket in his hands, “Why is it a bee bucket? The colour?”
“Oh, um, no,” Cad fumbled for his keys, “Y’know Patsy, the sweet old lady who comes in? She had a group of bees make a hive in her wall and she was going to call the exterminator but I asked her if I could take them instead. I took them home in that bucket.”
“Alright then,” Fjord spoke like he was putting a definite end to that conversation, tossing it into the back seat.
Cad laughed, putting the key in the engine as soon as Fjord was sat down, pulling them out of the lot in a puff of acrid smoke.
“You know, Caddy,” Fjord looked over at him, “You are one of the strangest and sweetest people I’ve ever met.”
Cad kept his eyes firmly forward, though he didn’t think he could fully hide how much the sudden tenderness surprised him. Or how much it pleased him.
Fjord gave him directions in between humming the last song they’d listened to as the radio in the car didn’t work. The more directions came, the lower and more lost his voice seemed to get, like the buoyancy and brightness Cad knew him for was leeching away the closer they got. Cad’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Did this happen every time? The Fjord he knew and, yes, loved, shrinking down and hiding himself inch by inch as he drew closer to home?
He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
Eventually, Fjord mumbled, “Um, yeah, you can just pull up on the corner. This is plenty close.”
Cad didn’t argue as he pulled over. He didn’t want to know what kind of unspoken, unspeakable rules Fjord might break if he was seen getting out of a friend’s car.
The seconds ticked by, plenty of chances to get out of the car but Fjord didn’t move. Cad looked over and saw his eyes fixed forward, looking off into the darkness punched through by the streetlights though it was clear that wasn’t what his mind was seeing. And he looked so lost.
Cad’s throat tightened. Leave the light on. That’s all you can do.
“Fjord…” he murmured, daring the slightest lean forward into the space between them.
He looked like some kind of god in this light, barely visible, just his edges outlined in the gold of the halogen lamps standing sentinel. A lost and lonely god, uncertainty etched onto his face, a broken statue put back together with gold. He was so, so beautiful.
And then there was a breeze. The windows were rolled up, they were idling on an empty city street. But there was a breeze nonetheless, scented like the deepest depths of the grove, and it passed between them as undeniable as their own names.
“My last ship sank,” Fjord murmured, voice so small it was hard to hear, “I’ve never...I’ve never told anyone. But the reason I came home was because it sank. I nearly died choking on black seawater, watching the men I’d lived with for years dying around me and the only home I’d ever known shattering into a million pieces.”
Cad’s jaw fell open, his eyes wide, “Oh Fjord…”
Fjord kept speaking, like he couldn’t stop, like blood coming up from an old wound reopened, “I washed up somewhere near Port Dumali, some fishermen dragged me out of the shallows. I had no business being alive but...I was. I hitched a ride to the port and I was looking for a ship home, back to the city, but as soon as I had nothing but a deck between me and the sea again, I...I threw up. I shook. I cried. I just couldn’t. I took a coach home, slept in bus stations, found my way back. And I lied to everyone about it, saying I’d just outlived my usefulness on the Tide’s Breath.”
“Why lie?” Cad breathed, still stunned.
“Because how could I admit what had happened?” Fjord’s voice became fragile and thin, “Vandran, my captain, was gone but I could hear his voice in my head telling me I had to be strong, that I couldn’t show weakness. That I had to be a man. How could I tell the ghost of the only father I’d ever known that I couldn’t even set foot on a fucking ship?”
“Oh Fjord…” Cad murmured.
“And...well, you’ve seen Avantika,” Fjord’s mouth twisted, “Imagine what she would have said. What she’d still say, if I walked in there and told her right now.”
Cad couldn’t answer that, he couldn’t say it out loud but the truth was there in the air between them.
“And now she wants me to go back out there with her. And I’m so scared. I always have been, I’ve just been so fucking scared my whole life and I felt like I could paint over it with Vandran, with Avantika and eventually I’d forget it was there but now I can feel it and I can’t breathe with the weight of it and I don’t know why I’m like this…” Fjord was sobbing now, his shoulders shaking, “Why am I like this? Why am I so fucking broken?”
Cad reached over and fastened his hand on Fjord’s shoulder, holding him fast like an anchor in the sand, “Fjord, breathe. All you have to do right now is breathe. Please?”
It took a few moments but his chest began to rise and fall in some kind of rhythm. Cad nodded, chanting him in and out until he wrestled back some kind of control.
“Fjord, there is...so much pain in you, more than I realised and we don’t have to face it all right now,” Cad said, “But I need you to hear that you aren’t broken. Being scared, feeling vulnerable, that doesn’t make you broken. Someone’s given you a list of things and told them you have to be all of them to be worth anything but they were wrong. They were so wrong.”
Fjord looked at him, like all that was keeping him grounded was Cad’s hand on his shoulder, “But...if I get rid of all of that, what do I have left?”
“Someone who makes other people laugh,” Cad replied without hesitation, voice strong and sure in the way he’d always hoped it would one day, “Someone with a wonderful, infectious smile. Someone who's kind by default and seeks to help others and lead them and find a way to make things better for them. Someone strong for his own reasons, by his own measure. Someone incredibly special to a lot of people, including me.”
Fjord had shrunk away from every compliment and kind word Cad had given him but this time he didn’t. This time he looked for a way in.
“Cad…”
“Fjord,” he answered, saying it clearly, honestly, hearing the value in it, “You might now believe in yourself right now and I don’t blame you. But I believe in you. Can that be enough, until we can sort out the first part?”
“But what do I do tomorrow? Fuck, what do I do ten seconds from now, I don’t know…”
Cad gave his shoulder a squeeze, “Whatever you think is right. Remember what I said, change is always possible. It’s never too late to find your own happiness.”
Something helped him remember and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the talisman from just three days before. Had he really left it in his pocket? He couldn’t say but it didn’t matter. He pressed it into Fjord’s palm.
“She will forgive you, Fjord, if you’d like her to. But I think what’s more important is that you forgive yourself.”
Fjord held the stone tight but he didn’t take his eyes from Cad. And slowly, slightly, he nodded.
Cad felt hope and relief explode in his chest. That was all he needed, just the knowledge that Fjord had at least heard him, that he’d seen the light left for him.
And then he did something Cad hadn’t even dared hope for.
He leaned in and kissed him.
At first he was too shocked to do anything, muscles going stiff, eyes widening. And then, feeling guilty, feeling selfish, feeling euphorically happy, he kissed Fjord back, lowering his ears and tilting his head, eyes closing softly.
It was the sweetest heartbeat and a half of his life.
That was how long it took for Fjord to jerk away like he’d been punched in the stomach, pressing himself against the door of the car. He looked horrified.
“Fjord?” Cad gasped out, in freefall.
“I’m sorry…” he managed to choke out before he wrenched the door open and ran out, like he was fleeing for his life.
