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Thankfully, Remy was not a difficult being to find.
For one, his voice was unmistakable, and he made absolutely no effort to lower it. For two, he worked out of the main V.E.I.L. building and had a dedicated office that anyone could find with a quick search of the directory.
Some supernatural beings came to the human world determined to disappear into it completely. They changed their names, altered their appearances, and learned every human habit they could until no one would ever think to look twice.
Others chose not to.
They helped the ones who came after them.
Remy was the latter.
As one of V.E.I.L.’s long-term Integration Specialists, he focused primarily on cultural adaptation - helping supernatural beings understand modern human language, customs, and social expectations.
In practice, this meant he was usually the one explaining slang, technology, and whatever new human trend had appeared since the last time someone checked in. He was honestly far more on top of popular culture than even Virgil was.
He was also, unfortunately, the person responsible for teaching Roman the slang he loved to misuse.
Virgil knocked on the already open door to Remy’s office.
The fae immediately spun around in his chair with unnecessary dramatic flair, like he'd been waiting for an audience.
“Oh! Virgil, the shiny little human.” Remy grinned. “What brings you all the way to my little corner of V.E.I.L.?”
“Hey, Remy,” Virgil responded, giving an awkward little wave. “Um. Do you have a minute?”
“Several, sweetness.”
Remy took an exaggerated sip of his iced coffee before gesturing toward the chairs in front of his desk.
“Come on in. Sit down.”
Virgil knew Remy wasn’t busy. He’d checked his calendar before walking over here. But he wasn’t entirely sure how to start this conversation.
“Oh, uh, thank you.” He nodded, moving to take one of the seats.
“So, what’s up?” Remy asked. “Did you need something, or is this just a surprise visit to share gossip?”
He clapped his hands together, suddenly looking delighted.
“Please tell me Rose has gotten up to something hilarious.”
Virgil paused.
“Rose?”
Remy blinked.
Then understanding crossed his face.
“Roman,” he corrected, though he didn’t seem embarrassed in the slightest. “I forgot you’d know him by his human name.”
Virgil nodded slowly, looking down at his lap.
“...Alright, so what’s he done now?” Remy asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Huh?” Virgil looked back up at him.
“This has to be about him. You got all weird.” Remy gestured with his coffee. “So, what did he do now?”
Virgil hesitated, unsure where to start. Eventually, he just blurted something out.
“He dissolved our accord and I don’t know why.”
For a moment, Remy just stared at him.
Then he slowly lowered his coffee.
“...He did what?”
Virgil swallowed. “He just… He dissolved it.”
Remy’s entire posture changed. The dramatics disappeared completely.
“Tell me everything.”
“...I don’t even know where to start.”
“The last time you saw him. What happened? Where were you?”
Virgil looked down at his lap.
“We were at his apartment.”
Remy raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“We were going to have dinner.”
“Dinner.” Remy repeated, somewhat in disbelief. “You and Rose were having dinner at his apartment.”
“Yeah?” Virgil tilted his head slightly. “It’s part of our accord.”
Remy somehow looked even more confused.
“Okay. Start further back then. What was the accord? How long ago? Why did you make it? How did you make it?”
Virgil sighed, leaning back in his chair.
He explained the first meeting. The accidental encounter outside the vet clinic. The bargain. The meals. The way it had slowly become less about obligation and more just something he actually looked forward to. And how Roman seemed to feel the same.
Or…
At least, he thought he did.
Remy stayed unusually quiet.
That alone was strange.
Virgil had never met someone who seemed so completely incapable of staying quiet for long.
But every time he glanced up, Remy was listening.
When Virgil finally trailed off, Remy kept staring at him for a few more long moments.
“...Okay, I have questions,” he said. “Several, honestly. But we’ll get to it. …Tell me again, what happened the last night you saw him.”
Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I had gone over, we were talking… Roman was cooking. And I must have fallen asleep.”
Remy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Wait. You didn’t say you ‘must have’ the first time. What do you mean you ‘must have’?”
“Oh. Uh,” Virgil rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t remember falling asleep. Or even like, settling on his couch or anything. I just… I was there, and then I woke up in my bed.”
“And when you woke up, you were feeling better.” Remy said, still watching him.
“Yeah. Like…” Virgil hesitated. “Like I haven’t in years.”
Remy slowly raised an eyebrow. He picked up his iced coffee, taking a sip before gesturing at Virgil with it.
“I’m gonna tell you what I just heard, okay?”
“Uh, okay?”
“You feel like absolute garbage all the time, but you’ve spent years pretending you’re fine.” Remy leaned back in his chair. “You end up in a bargain with a fae - Aurellian’s Rosecrown, of all fae - and he heals your cat of something she had no chance of recovering from on her own.”
He paused, pointing his straw at Virgil.
“Then, months later, you collapse in his home, wake up in your own bed, and suddenly feel better than you ever have.”
Another pause.
“And your conclusion is that he doesn’t like you anymore?” Remy stared at him. “Virgil. Babes. Do you hear how insane that sounds?”
Virgil’s cheeks darkened considerably, but he crossed his arms and ignored it as hard as he possibly could.
“Well… I mean. He disappeared,” he muttered. “And he didn’t say anything.”
Remy let out a breath of a laugh.
“Yeah,” Remy said, shaking his head. “Because it’s Rose.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Remy took an exaggerated sip of his drink.
“It means that he’s a drama queen with a very strict moral code who has no idea how to deal with his feelings.” Remy sighed, leaning back in his chair again. “Rose is probably sitting somewhere right now convinced he committed an unforgivable violation. Drowning his sorrows in bicep curls or dahlias covered in cherry flavored syrup.”
Virgil blinked. For one, that second half was extremely specific, but crucially, not at all wrong.
For two…
He was gonna leave the first bit alone for a minute.
“...He’s not going to any of his usual places.” Virgil admitted. “I’ve… Checked.”
“Well yeah, he’s trying not to see you. You’re not exactly hard to dodge.” Remy shrugged. “He can probably sense you from a mile away.”
“Huh? How?”
“...Babes. You have Aurellian magic coming off you. Specifically Rose’s. I’m sure he knows you’re here right now.” Remy raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were the human who could sense magic. Isn’t that why you’re all special and shiny?”
“I…” Virgil trailed off. “I can’t sense it. I can see it.”
“Ohhh…” Remy tilted his head back in one long nod of understanding. “That’s very different. It’s like, in you. So there’s nothing for you to see.”
Virgil was still trying to process all Remy was telling him. And how he was being insanely casual about it on top of everything else.
“...So he like, put tracking magic on me?”
“Oh, no no. I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose. And it’s like, super subtle too.”
Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if Rose had intentionally connected you to him, he would have made a whole production out of it.”
Virgil frowned. “A production?”
“Like… Done it with ceremony. Probably flowers. Maybe doves. Definitely a whole little speech he’d painstakingly prepared.”
“I…” Virgil blinked. He had no idea what to do with that.
“Anyway, I have more questions.” Remy gestured with his cup. “How did…”
Remy stopped himself.
“Actually, you wouldn’t know. Do you mind if I try and see what he did?”
Virgil looked up. “How do you mean?”
Remy held up a hand, wiggling his fingers as they began to shimmer. “Fae shit.”
“Oh, uh. Sure?”
“Sweet. Just a sec.”
Remy gestured through the air, his hands moving with practiced precision as magic began to gather around them.
Virgil blinked, simply watching.
When Remy’s magic reached him, he didn’t feel anything. But he could still see it.
It wasn’t like Roman’s.
Roman’s magic was impossible to mistake. Gold. Bright. It moved with the same confidence Roman carried into every room, flowing around him like it belonged to him because, somehow, it did.
Remy’s was different.
It wasn’t weaker.
Just… different.
It moved like something being guided.
Remy was like a musician, playing an instrument he’d spent decades mastering. Every movement had purpose. Every strand of magic went exactly where he intended.
This, Virgil realized, was probably what nearly all fae magic looked like.
A skill.
Something learned and controlled.
Roman was something else entirely.
Roman wasn’t the musician.
Roman was the song.
His magic didn’t feel like something he commanded. It felt like something intrinsic to his being. Something that moved with him before he even thought to ask.
Virgil had assumed that was just how fae worked.
Or maybe it was because Roman was powerful enough that it just came easier to him.
Now, watching Remy work, he realized it was neither.
Roman wasn’t effortless because he was fae.
Roman was effortless because Roman was Roman.
“Oh shit.” Remy murmured.
Virgil’s attention snapped back to him.
“Great spirits... Rose, what did you…”
“What?” Virgil leaned forward. “What is it?”
Remy blinked and slowly lowered his hands. The magic faded away into nothing.
“...I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Remy. Tell me what’s wrong.” Virgil urged.
Remy’s eyes slowly found his.
“...Virgil…” He shook his head in disbelief. “If I - or any other fae - tried to do what Rose did…”
He left out a quiet, humorless laugh.
“...I’m pretty sure it would have killed me.”
“What?!”
“His magic…” Remy swallowed. “It’s everywhere. Every joint, tendon, muscle… Every organ.”
His expression grew more bewildered by the second.
“It’s like he… rebuilt you. Piece by piece.”
He looked at Virgil again, still trying to wrap his head around it.
“...I’m honestly shocked he survived it.”
Virgil immediately felt his stomach drop.
But not because of what had been done to him.
That wasn’t his first concern.
Far from it.
“He did, though, right?” Virgil asked quickly. “He... He didn’t… That’s not why I can’t find him, right?”
Remy blinked, tilting his head to the side.
Wordlessly, he lifted a hand and made a small circling motion with his fingers.
Pale strands of magic gathered around his fingertips before drifting into Virgil.
“...Yes. He’s alive.” Remy closed his eyes for a moment. “He’s… fine. I can feel him at the other end of the thread.”
“The thread?”
Remy opened his eyes.
“The thread.” He frowned, clearly trying to put something into words that had never needed words before. “He stitched you back together. Or...”
He shook his head.
“No. More than that. He… He put so much of himself into the spell that it never fully separated from him.” He looked back at Virgil. “That’s why you’re still connected.”
They both leaned back in their chairs.
Remy stared up at the ceiling.
Virgil lowered his gaze to his lap.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment.
They were both trying to process what Roman had actually done.
Eventually, Remy let out a slow breath, rubbing a hand over his face.
“...He’s beating himself up about this.” Remy sighed. “That’s why he disappeared.”
Virgil looked up.
“What?”
Remy’s eyes dropped to meet his.
“Rose is huge on permission. The fact that he did this while you were unconscious…” He shook his head. “He thinks he became the kind of fae everyone warns each other about.”
Virgil’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean?”
Remy let out another sigh, rolling his eyes.
“He’s like if ‘consent is sexy’ became an entire person, Virge.”
Virgil blinked.
“I’m serious.” Remy pointed at him. “Rose would rather cut off one of his own wings than do something to somebody without their permission. The last thing he ever wants to be is the fae from the stories. The ones that steal names. The ones who take firstborns.”
His hand fell back into his lap.
“In his mind…” He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “All that matters is that he broke his word and your trust. He crossed the one line he basically vowed he never would.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
“...Never mind that he did it to save you.” Remy shook his head. “All he’ll see is that you didn’t get a say in it.”
Virgil had been sitting in shock basically since Remy had started doing most of the talking. The revelations had been hitting him in waves, and he was finally ready to boil over.
“But I would have said yes!” Virgil said, flinging his arms out to the sides.
“But you didn’t.” Remy said quietly. “That’s what he’s stuck on. He didn’t give you the opportunity.”
Virgil buried his face in his hands. “In what world would I be mad at him for helping me?! This would have killed me eventually! He gave me something I never thought was possible! That apparently no one else in all the realms could have!”
Remy was just watching him. “...And if that was something you wanted, you deserved to know the entire picture before it happened.”
Virgil groaned. “I didn’t know it was an option!”
“I know.” Remy shook his head. “I’m not saying his logic makes perfect sense, Virgil. I’m just telling you what happened. From his perspective.”
He leaned back slightly, picking up his cup again. “Trust me. I’ve known him since we were sprites.”
Virgil groaned again, louder this time.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
Remy drummed his fingers on the desk, expression turning thoughtful.
“...You might hate this answer.”
Virgil looked up suspiciously. “What?”
“I think you need to give him more time.”
Virgil immediately made a face.
“Not because he’s right.” Remy added quickly. “He’s being ridiculous. But Rose is not going to hear you say ‘I’m not mad, it’s okay’ and just immediately forgive himself.”
“...How long do you think this will take?”
Remy pursed his lips, thinking.
“...I’ll talk to him. The last time he did something he blamed himself for, it took him a couple decades to get over it.” Remy paused. “And that wasn’t even this bad.”
Virgil stared. “A couple… decades?”
Remy blinked. “Yeah?”
“Remy.”
“...Right. Sorry.” He shook his head. “I won’t let that happen this time. Decades aren’t long when you’re, uh, us. But since you’re not-”
He stopped himself, then waved a hand.
“I’ll remind him that time works a little differently for humans. Just… give me a little bit? A few weeks, maybe? A couple months, tops.”
Virgil sighed. “...That still feels like a long time.”
“...I’m sorry, Virge. It’s the best I think I can do without making him dig his heels in even harder.”
“No, no. I- Thank you. For talking to me. And for talking to him.” Virgil gave Remy a weak smile. “I really appreciate it.”
Remy smiled. “Hey, don’t sweat it. Besides, I want to see you two back together.”
Virgil froze, his cheeks immediately flushing.
“...Oh. Uh, you mean our accord?”
Remy stared at him.
“What?” Virgil asked, suddenly very interested in his hands.
“Nope.” Remy shook his head, standing up and gently swatting Virgil out of his chair. “Office hours are officially closed. I’m not having this conversation again.”
Virgil blinked as he made his way toward the door, stepping into the hallway just as Remy used magic to shut the door behind him.
underrated fantasy thing is when authors want to avoid giving an actual earth year their story takes place so the characters say shit like "back in the Year Of The Skateboarding Dragon" and all the other characters are like ah yes how could we forget the crops were so plentiful the year that dragon did those sweet sweet kickflips
the thing they dont tell you about learning to "trust the process" is that you forget and relearn it every single time you make a new piece of art. unfortunately there is no cure either
puttering around the house is an underrated form a self-care. make some tea or coffee. put on a podcast. sort the mail. tidy some pillows and fold some blankets. start the laundry. thaw some soup. just casually wander around aimlessly doing little things to make your space and life a little nicer. who cares if you get distracted or only do a little. you aren't being productive. you're puttering.
My life has gotten measurably better since I reframed the period from 3-4 pm as “puttering hour”. No it’s not me avoiding work or failing to force myself to concentrate during my mid afternoon slump. It’s puttering hour.
after who knows how many months of puzzling out the geometry, running out of the right colors, & feeling like i'd NEVER be done making flower motifs, HERE HE IS!! in all his orange glory!!
the cutest, sweetest, most huggable spider in the WORLD!!! ✨️💖🕷💖✨️
For a college game, I used an entire box of candy canes as a size colossal monstrous zombie grasshopper, and then when it died I ripped the box open and used the candy canes as size large monstrous parasitic horsehair worms erupting from its corpse. Nobody actually wanted to eat them after that so I took them home and ground them into a powder with a pestle, intending to add it to my hot cocoas. But I didn’t wash the pestle very well last time after using it to crush garlic and chilis, so I accidentally made chili-garlic-mint powder and then I tried serving that cocoa at a later D&D sesh, and we were all baffled at why it tasted so horrible until I was like oh my god it’s the ground up zombie ass worms. I contaminated them with garlic and chilis. And the group was like YOU GROUND UP THE ZOMBIE ASS WORMS AND FED THEM TO US which seemed like a lot of fuss over what would have otherwise been free and delicious cocoa. Then after that before taking any snacks they’d ask did you perchance put any zombie ass chili-garlic worm powder in this?, and then refuse to eat until I said None.
Which they thought was very funny, even if I was slightly less amused, but I bided my time until they got tired of the joke and stopped specifically asking. Then I poured all the remaining zombie ass chili-garlic worm powder into a bag of party mix. The first guy to take a bite spluttered, and I laughed, and everyone said WHAT DID BABS DO, and I said THE WOOOORMS… YOU FORGOT TO ASK… OHMYGOD… and then I laughed so hard I actually cried. Derailed the start time almost an hour.
Virgil’s eyes fluttered open, and it took him a moment to realize where he was.
His bedroom.
His bed.
He blinked up at the familiar ceiling, still hazy with sleep.
Something warm shifted on his chest, and he lifted a hand to scratch behind Sally’s ears without even thinking about it.
She began purring immediately, stretching into the touch as though she had only just woken up herself.
Virgil smiled down at her, giving her another scratch before yawning and stretching his arms to either side.
He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so rested.
Weeks, certainly.
Maybe months.
Maybe even-
His movement slowed as his memory caught up with him.
He’d been sleeping terribly for months. Waking even worse.
Even before everything had started falling apart, he rarely woke up feeling good. “Manageable” had long been the goal.
But this…
Gently, he nudged Sally off his chest and sat up.
He automatically fell into the careful morning routine he’d developed over years - slow stretches, cautious movements, testing which joints would protest the loudest today.
His shoulders? Nothing.
His wrists? Nothing.
His knees...
Still nothing.
Virgil frowned and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing himself to his feet.
Far too quickly.
Usually, he’d regret that immediately.
Today…
Nothing.
He felt amazing.
His eyes drifted to the nightstand.
Three things immediately stood out.
First, the clock.
His stomach dropped.
It was late. Very late. He should have been at work hours ago.
Second, his phone.
It sat plugged into its charger. He had no memory of putting it there.
Actually… He couldn’t remember going to bed at all. The last thing he remembered was…
Roman’s kitchen.
His breath caught.
His gaze finally settled on the third thing.
A folded piece of paper rested beside a glass of water he certainly hadn’t left there.
Virgil picked it up, recognizing the handwriting immediately.
Virgil Webb,
V.E.I.L. has already been notified that you will be absent today.
Sally has been fed.
Rest.
I apologize for entering your residence without your prior consent.
Respectfully,
Roman Prince
Virgil had to read it twice before the words really settled.
Roman.
Only Roman knew enough about both his apartment and his job to leave a note like this.
But…
Roman had never written to him like this before.
Not once.
The script was unmistakably his, neat and incomparably elegant.
The tone, however…
This wasn’t Roman. Not the Roman he’d come to know.
Not the Roman who teased him over coffee.
Not the Roman who sent him pictures of Oliver sleeping upside down.
Not the Roman who had deliberately started misusing slang after learning how cringey Virgil found it.
This sounded like the Roman he’d met on his first day at Sylvan Capital Group.
Professional. Polite. Distant.
Not yet his friend.
Virgil sank onto the edge of his bed, still staring at the note.
Why would Roman do something like this?
What could have…
He could just ask him.
They were friends.
Besides, he’d see him soon anyway. Maybe Roman had been busy. Maybe he’d dictated the note to an assistant and only signed it himself.
…Except it had been unmistakably his handwriting.
No matter.
He’d text him.
They’d plan their next meal, laugh about whatever this was, and everything would make sense again.
Virgil unlocked his phone and opened their messages.
Hey Ro, I just woke up. Thanks for bringing me home. I don’t even remember falling asleep at your place. When do you want to get some food next?
He hit send.
Roman usually answered almost immediately. If he was in a meeting, it might take an hour.
But never much longer than that.
While he waited, Virgil wandered into the kitchen.
It was late, but he should eat.
He found himself making a proper breakfast instead of grabbing something quick - eggs, greens, toast. Roman had practically insisted on teaching him to cook something more substantial than cereal.
A laugh escaped him.
He still wasn’t going to cook exactly the way Roman would have.
Roman would have found a way to justify pouring syrup over half of it.
Virgil ate. Washed the dishes. Straightened the kitchen. Made the bed. Put away the pile of laundry he’d been ignoring. Organized Sally’s toys.
Every so often, he glanced at his phone.
Nothing.
By the time dinner rolled around, he’d almost convinced himself Roman had simply gotten caught up at work.
He made dinner. Ate. Cleaned up again.
Still nothing.
It wasn’t until he was curled up on the couch with Sally asleep against his side and a movie he’d barely been paying attention to that his phone finally vibrated.
Relief rushed through him.
He opened the message.
Hello Virgil.Of course. It was no trouble.
I will not be available to meet with you for the foreseeable future.
My apologies.
Roman Prince
Virgil blinked.
That wasn’t how Roman texted. Not with him. And what did he mean he wouldn’t be available?
Oh. Uh, that’s okay. I’ll still see you within the week though, right? I mean, we have to at least once, don’t we?
He still avoided putting anything too obviously supernatural in writing whenever possible. Old habits. Caution.
His phone vibrated almost immediately. The relief was instant. Something about the quick response felt normal.
Familiar.
Like maybe everything was fine.
Then he opened the message.
Hello Virgil.No, I will not be available to meet with you this week.
Do not be concerned about our prior obligation.I have dissolved our accord.
Roman Prince
Virgil stared.
For a moment, the words didn’t mean anything. Then… Then it all crashed down on him.
He’d… He’d what?
How could Roman have just-
Why would he have-
What was happening?
What had Virgil done?
It took him a long time to type a response.
Okay. If that’s what you’ve decided. Just let me know when you’re available again, alright? We can still grab a coffee sometime.
He stared at the message for several seconds before finally sending it.
Then he placed his phone beside him on the couch.
He expected a response.
Not because Roman owed him one. Roman had been very clear.
But because Roman always responded.
Usually within minutes. Sometimes immediately. Even when he was busy, even when he was sitting in important meetings, Virgil could count on hearing from him relatively quickly.
This time, there was nothing.
Not before the movie ended.
Not while he cleaned up the living room.
Not while he got ready for bed.
Not even when he fell asleep, his phone still resting on his chest.
When he woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was check.
Nothing.
Virgil stared at the empty conversation.
Usually, there would have been something.
A picture of Oliver sleeping somewhere ridiculous.
A reminder that breakfast was important and coffee alone did not count.
A terrible joke that stemmed from Roman’s deliberate misuse of the slang he’d been learning.
Sometimes it was something important.
Sometimes it was just an excuse to talk.
But it was always something.
Not today.
Virgil told himself that was fine. Roman just needed space. He said he wasn’t available.
That was all this was.
He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t rejecting him. He wasn’t ending their friendship.
He was just taking some time.
And if that was what Roman needed, Virgil could give him that.
For the next few days, Virgil tried very hard not to think about it.
He went to work. Answered emails. Helped other clients. Followed every normal part of his routine.
Except his routine had changed without Roman in it.
There was no coffee waiting for him after difficult meetings. No messages throughout the day. No pictures of Oliver or complaints about whatever ridiculous thing the cat had done. No reason to stop by Sylvan Capital Group. No reason to sit in Roman’s kitchen and talk about absolutely nothing.
Virgil hated how quickly he noticed the difference.
How quickly he missed it.
That was what bothered him most, if he was honest with himself.
A week passed. Then another.
Still nothing.
Eventually, Virgil started wondering if “foreseeable future” meant something different to Roman than it did to him.
Maybe for a fae, it meant months.
Years.
Longer.
That thought bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
So eventually, Virgil made a decision.
Not a big one. Not a confrontation. He wasn’t going to show up at Roman’s office and demand answers. He wasn’t going to ask why Roman changed his mind. He was just going to happen to be somewhere Roman liked to be.
Because he knew Roman.
Or at least, he thought he did.
The first time was a coffee shop.
Completely coincidental.
At least, that was what Virgil told himself.
He had simply been in the area. He remembered Roman mentioning that he liked this place.
He walked in. He ordered a coffee. He sat down. He waited.
Roman never walked in.
That didn’t mean anything.
Roman had already told him. He was unavailable.
The second time was a restaurant. One they had eaten at before.
Virgil wasn’t looking for him.
Not really.
He just happened to be there.
Roman wasn’t.
The third time, Virgil finally had to admit to himself what he was doing.
He knew Roman’s habits.
He knew his favorite places.
He knew the routines Roman had built for himself after more than a century of living among humans.
A surprising amount of Virgil’s job had become finding people who didn’t want to be found.
He knew patterns. He knew routines.
So why couldn’t he find Roman?
The answer was simple enough.
Roman wasn’t where he should have been.
And somehow, that was worse.
Because it meant Roman wasn’t just unavailable.
He was avoiding him.
Why?
What had he done?
Virgil replayed that night over and over in his head. At least, what he remembered of it.
Had he said something offensive? Crossed some invisible line without realizing it? Was falling asleep at Roman’s house somehow a worse insult than he understood?
That was the last time everything had been normal.
Whatever happened, it had happened that night.
Virgil grabbed his phone and opened his calendar.
It struck him immediately how wrong it looked.
It was almost completely empty.
Roman was the kind of person who added their plans to his calendar the moment they were made. Coffee. Dinner. Grocery runs so they could argue about what shape pasta they’d cook that night. Then he would send the invitation over to Virgil like it was a completely normal thing to do.
Virgil hadn’t realized how much space Roman had occupied in his life until he suddenly wasn’t.
Just a few work meetings and his upcoming doctor’s appointment.
Wait.
He’d scheduled that months ago. Was it really already here?
His expression shifted as the thought caught up with him.
He’d run out of his medication at least a month ago.
How was he…
He froze completely.
Virgil had assumed he’d gotten lucky.
A few good days in a row. Maybe his body was giving him a bit of a break. He’d learned not to question those moments much. He just enjoyed them while they lasted.
But thinking back…
He hadn’t had a bad day in three weeks.
Not one.
That wasn’t luck.
That was impossible.
He should have been sick. At the very least, he should have been fatigued. Struggling to walk. Struggling to get up out of chairs. Fighting through every ordinary task.
He knew his body. He knew its limits. He knew what happened when he was without his medication.
…What was going on?
At first, Virgil tried very hard to come up with a reasonable explanation.
Maybe he was just… getting better?
The thought felt ridiculous as soon as it entered his mind.
His condition was chronic. Probably degenerative. If anything, it should have gotten worse as he aged.
The best he could hope for was stability. Certainly not improvement.
When was the last day he’d been in pain?
His brain supplied him with the answer immediately.
The night he went to Roman’s. The night he should have stayed home, but went anyway.
He went to Roman’s. Something happened. He woke up at home feeling better.
And now Roman was gone.
…
That was ridiculous too.
Wasn’t it?
Roman wouldn’t…
Virgil stopped himself.
He knew Roman. Or at least, he thought he did.
And even if Roman had found out how bad things were…
Even if he had wanted to help…
Fae magic was about give and take. Balance. Agreements.
He wouldn’t have been able to.
Virgil’s eyes drifted back to his phone.
Roman said he’d dissolved their accord.
That was the part he couldn’t understand.
Virgil had read every single one of those manuals. He knew the basics of fae bargains.
They were exchanges. They had to be balanced. They did not just fade away.
Not like this.
He needed to know more. And not just about fae magic.
About Roman’s magic. About his court. About…
The person behind Roman Prince.
Was that the problem?
Virgil knew Roman.
Roman, the businessman who teased him over coffee and sent him cat pictures and learned slang purely to annoy him.
But he didn’t know all of him.
The other side to him.
The fae. The S-Class magic user. The only being whose V.E.I.L. profile carried a title important enough to stand beside his name rather than be buried somewhere in additional notes.
Virgil had spent months getting to know Roman.
Maybe it was time he learned about Rosamyr of Aurellian, the Rosecrown.
Virgil went to his computer.
If there was anything in the V.E.I.L. records that might help him understand this, he would find it.
Virgil reread the profile for Rosamyr of Aurellian, the Rosecrown at least four times before he finally realized there was something there that he skimmed over each and every time.
Not a history or a bargain or even an infraction.
A name.
Known Associates:
Maerion of Aurellian**
**(Current Human Alias: Remington Dormir)
Remy.
Virgil knew Remy.
He worked at V.E.I.L. He’d spoken with him before. And he’d heard Roman mention him on more than one occasion.
Virgil didn’t know if it was too human a term for them. He didn’t know how fae defined friendships.
But if someone asked him, he would call them best friends.
Which meant Remy knew Roman.
And more importantly, right now, he knew Rosamyr.
Maybe he didn’t know exactly what had happened.
Maybe he didn’t know why Roman had disappeared.
But he had known Roman longer than Virgil ever could.
