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Sep 9, 2022

Equinox

Part 1/2: Adolescence (for @sandersidesbigbang)

Pairing: prinxiety Warnings: Attempted parental alienation (on both sides), platonic possessiveness (parental), narcissism, threats and mentions of severe bodily harm, mentions of infidelity and paternity fraud.

Beta: @starry-knight-skies Artists: @selfdestructivecat (link) and @briandthemoon (link) Ao3: Link To the people above and the @sandersidesbigbang in general, thank you so much. This was a fun and new experience for me. Part Two (coming soon!)

Summary:

All fae began with the two antithetical, primordial Queens and their Courts. Seelie and Unseelie, Summer and Winter. Covetous, prideful and offended by the mere existence of one another, They warred for countless millennia. None suffered more for it than humans, caught in the crossfire of vicious and deadly seasons.

Then came unexpected peace, the fae keeping to their woods. Mortals flourished in blissful ignorance, believing the conflict settled. In truth, it was a ceasefire. Part of begrudging collaboration between both Queens. Neither could create a new Royal Fae, a child akin to Themselves, through Their power alone.

This is the story of Virgil, Prince and son to both Queens, and the inevitability of the choice he must make. Seelie or Unseelie, Summer or Winter, one cannot be both forever. Two options, one or the other, which all will suffer the consequences of.

Thus, Virgil chose to spend the last year before his life implodes in on itself visiting mortal lands, avoiding his problems. Falling for a charming human prince wasn’t part of his non-existent plan, but the year away from the Courts might just teach him that there are things worth fighting for.

Virgil sat on his Unseelie Mother’s lap in Her throne room, growing increasingly bored. It was all rather repetitive, Winter fae presenting him with gifts to celebrate his first return to their Court. He was grateful, yes, but tired. It was hard to get excited about the presents. More than anything else, the prince wanted to doze. The shift from Summer to Winter had left Virgil… Drained. Dazed. He hoped it wouldn’t always be like this. Winter turning to Summer had been equally unpleasant.

That was when his Mother spoke: “I have a gift for you, my Prince.” Virgil blinked, paying attention once more. Sleepy as he was, both his Mothers seemed expectant after giving him something. The prince didn’t want to upset Her.

“A gift?” The prince echoed, careful to articulate the words properly. Doing his best to overcome his childish lisp. Virgil’s single year of conscious existence hadn’t been long enough to rid himself of it. It could have been worse. The fae prince heard rumours that mortals were born unable to talk at all.

Virgil wasn’t mortal, nor even a regular fae. He was Royalty, for all that he did not understand the difference. No one did, really. The only other Royals were his Queen Mothers, rulers of their own Courts. Even They differed from him- Neither of them were ever children.

“Yes, my dearest treasure, a gift.” Virgil’s Winter Mother’s voice was pleased. Indulgent before She gestured imperiously at one of her servants. “Bring it in, now.” Her tone was abruptly cold and unforgiving of failure- But that was to be expected. It was Her usual tone when giving orders. Half a year had been long enough to notice that. It reminded him of his Seelie Mother, whom the prince had just parted with.

Virgil was distracted from his thoughts as a fae was brought in, no gift in sight.

The fae was young, Virgil noticed, younger than any other he’d met. Older than himself, of course, it seemed every fae was, but… Young. Nervous with scales and mismatched eyes, another anomaly Virgil hadn’t seen before. A slit pupil… “Is the gift a lesson, Mother?” Some sort of educational lecture?

The Unseelie Queen let out a light laugh, a fond, chime-like sound. “A lesson in love, perhaps,” She ran a hand through Virgil’s hair, “of my love for you. I cherish you more than any other. More than any other being ever will. As such, I bestow upon you this fae. He is Mine, as all Unseelie are,” Her arms momentarily tightened around Virgil, to the point of discomfort, “but my child deserves his own fae to command.”

Virgil processed that. “Thank you, Mother.” He didn’t have to fully understand the purpose of the gift to be grateful. There were so many things he didn’t understand, what was one more? Virgil pushed aside any discomfort he felt. “What is your alias?” The question was addressed to the -his?- scaled fae.

Said fae bowed deeply. Almost as low as one did when grovelling for a Queen’s lenience. “I go by Deceit, great Prince,” came the response, “though you may change it at your leisure.” Change it? Why would Virgil change it? He was yet to decide on his own alias -instead using ‘Prince’ as a placeholder- why would he override Deceit’s? He-

Cold lips whispered a secret only Virgil could hear. “His Name is ‘Janus’, my beloved child,” his Unseelie Mother passed ownership to the prince, “which now belongs to you.” Once more, Her hand ran through his hair. “As I said, a lesson in my love. She,” The word was snarled hatefully, “has not given you a fae, has She? Too selfish to part with a servant for your sake, too unwilling to seek one close to your age for companionship.” The Unseelie Queen kissed Virgil’s cheek, looking him in the eyes.

Meeting Virgil’s gaze yet staring past him, through him, into him, as always.

“I love you more than She ever will,” Virgil’s Winter Mother’s voice was soft as she promised him: “She shall ruin you, if you let Her.”

Virgil’s Mothers really were similar. His Summer Mother had whispered the exact same words to him as they parted.

LINE BREAK (Virgil’s POV)

Drawing his heavy, dark purple cloak closer around his shoulders, Virgil took comfort from the spider-silk fabric as he left the bounds of the First Forest for the first time. The fae prince knew most thought his chosen alias of ‘Anxiety’ was a reminder they ought to be anxious not to invoke his ire, and Virgil was careful not to correct that assumption. It was never wise to show weakness to a Fae, not even for royalty. If anything, it would be especially disastrous for Virgil to let his nerves show. Rather than think on that, the fae prince turned his thoughts to humanity.

Humans, Virgil had been told, were wary of their kind. Allegedly, they feared being tricked out of what they thought they were promised, or caught in the crossfire of their quarrels. The prince supposed he would soon learn the truth of such rumours, seeing as he was forsaking near everything he had ever known for the next year. Abandoning the relatively peaceful life Virgil had enjoyed rather than agonizingly witnessing its end. He-

“I’m so excited!” Creativity cheered, clapping his hands together. Virgil’s Seelie companion’s grin had a particularly deranged gleam to it as the man cackled. Once more, the prince second-guessed his own judgement. “A vacation before the real party begins. Even the stupid snow on the ground later won’t as annoying when I can imagine it’s Unseelie I’m stomping on.” Creativity’s smirk turned bloodthirsty as it turned to the final member of their trio. “I call dibs on being the first to duel you to the death!”

Deceit - a rather bold choice of alias for a being unable to lie - sneered in response. The Unseelie’s serpentine eye flashed viciously. “If you wish to perish by my hand, I shall be more than happy to oblige.” The two members of opposing courts looked ready to settle the matter at any moment. As always, the antithetical nature of Summer and Winter fae motivated them to war with one another.

Virgil scowled. “Whomever swings first shall find themselves facing both their foe and my own ire.” This crackling of tensions as the breaking point approached was exactly what he left the forest to avoid. This was the last year the prince had before the fragile peace would shatter, and Virgil refused to let his companions ruin it for him. “You may explain to your Queen why you felt warring was more important than the task assigned to you.”

Deceit, to the credit of his sense of self-preservation, flinched. “I swear to you, Anxiety, Prince of the Fae: I will cause no unprovoked physical harm to Creativity during the course of this trip. The only exception is in defence of myself, yourself, or on royal orders.” Cleverly worded, Virgil internally noted. Deceit would attack Creativity should the prince order him to do so- Or if Virgil’s Unseelie Mother had already commanded him. The fae prince knew better than to believe She had refrained, and could only hope She had exercised some restraint.

Creativity, due to a mostly lacking sense of self-preservation, pouted. “But I wanna fight to the death nooooooooow, Anxiety!” The grown Seelie whined like a child. “How am I supposed to not wack him with my mace for an entire year? Look at how mace-able his face is!” The irreverence was arrogantly reckless, given what Virgil could do to him. It was simultaneously brilliant, as the prince found himself reluctantly fond of the peculiarly raised -and generally peculiar- changeling. There was something… Endearing, almost, in how Creativity treated Virgil unlike any other fae did. That didn’t mean Virgil would allow him to bludgeon Deceit to death, nor to be bled to death by the Unseelie’s blades. He nodded in acknowledgement of Deceit’s carefully-worded vow before glowering at Creativity. “Think up another source of entertainment,” Virgil’s reply was unsympathetic, “or shall I dub you ‘Uncreative’ instead?”

Creativity looked mortally offended, rather than the mortally-wounded state he’d hoped to inflict on Deceit. “I am plenty creative!” He insisted, clearly horrified at the insinuation otherwise. “Of course I can think of fun things to do in the dumb human realm… Like, uh…” “Uncreative suits you well, given your hesitation.” Deceit looked pleased at getting to prod an insecurity. Virgil, for his part, was tempted to slip away while they quarrelled. Unfortunately, that would inevitably prompt a search party and put an early end to his respite from familial pressure. Creativity looked ready to pounce on Deceit, consequences be damned-

“Oh, oh, oh!” Creativity’s green eyes lit up with mischievous delight. “I know! Let’s go visit my kingdom!” His kingdom? That sounded… Dangerously close to treason to Virgil. There were two Courts, to claim some sort of authority not granted directly by one’s Queen was… “The stupid human kingdom,” the Seelie clarified while Virgil did his best to control his facial expression, “the one I was almost prince-and-future-king of. You know, the one where the ugly human version of me lives!” Ah, right. That tale was easy for Virgil to recall, now that the fae prince wasn’t preemptively mourning the torturous demise of his Summer Court fae companion. Creativity was an Unexchanged Changeling, normally ill-fated and short-lived. The Seelie who was born with the appearance and purpose of being swapped with a human prince, only for the Seelie Queen to override those schemes. She couldn’t let Herself be outdone by Virgil’s other Mother, after all. “You wish to see that which would have been yours, had your fate not been altered?”

Creativity made a noise of general disagreement. “Ehh… Mostly I want to mess with my mortal doppelganger,” he admitted, “it’s as good a place as any to start, right? Human kingdoms are probably identical, anyways.” Virgil wasn’t sure of that, but he didn’t know enough about mortal kingdoms to refute the claim.

“Human kingdoms vary in prosperity and the effectiveness of their short-lived rulers.” Deceit corrected Creativity, saving Virgil the trouble. “Prince Anxiety,” the Winter fae respectfully addressed Virgil, “should we continue in this direction for any significant length of time, we will inevitably come across one. There is no need to seek out any particular arbitrary collection of human settlements.” There was no reason to avoid Creativity’s desired kingdom either, other than Deceit’s clear desire to irk the Seelie. Petty and unnecessary.

Virgil preferred it to outright bloodshed, at least.

“Do not refer to me as a prince where mortals might hear.” Virgil ordered the both of them, not wanting to deal with the pestering questions humans would probably have. “We will spend some time at the first kingdom we come across,” he further decided, “then travel to Creativity’s mentioned kingdom later on.” It was a compromise, intended not to favour one side over the other. As the Prince of two Courts, he was an unwilling expert in such. “I wish to see more than a single human kingdom, especially if they truly differ-” For the first time in the prince’s life, he was interrupted by someone other than a fae Queen. “What are you doing so close to the Fae’s Forest,” a familiar voice demanded with audacious authority, “are you trying to provoke them?” The shock of it all stunned the trio to momentary silence as they processed it. For a brief moment Creativity and Deceit were in tune with one another, sharing a glance as if to confirm it wasn’t a hallucination.

Riding towards them on a horse was the image of Creativity, albeit lacking his moustache and fiery warmth of Summer. The human prince hadn’t been taken then? Behind him was some other human, clearly trying and failing to keep pace. Virgil blinked, turning to look at his changeling companion, unimpressed. “Did you arrange this?” It was unlikely. Creativity was occasionally brilliant but perpetually impulsive. He lacked the foresight for this. Nonetheless…

Creativity grinned delightedly. “Nope! But I’d be happy to kill him in your honour! Delighted to, really. It’d be the perfect gift for your favourite playmate!” Creativity not intentionally provoking Deceit with claims like that would be the perfect gift for Virgil, frankly, but there was no point bemoaning the inevitable.

Deceit, predictably, bristled. “A bold claim not backed by any declaration by the P- Anxiety,” the Winter fae hissed, “perhaps ‘Delusional’ would fit you as an alternative to ‘Uncreative’.” Perhaps Virgil could order them both to remain silent for the remainder of the year. In truth, he could. It was well within his rights, both as their superior and- Well. He held the power to force them to obey. Both the means and motivation to do so. Yet…

An action can never be undone.

“Cease your bickering,” Virgil ordered, tone harsh but lacking forced subjugation. “I’ve no desire for the humans to hear you squabble.” He had no desire to hear them squabble, period, but worded it in an intentionally misleading manner. Let them assume Virgil wishes to show a united front to the mortals. The prince didn’t care so long as it bought him some reprieve.

The human prince paused with a gasp, staring at Creativity. Belatedly seeming shocked at the resemblance- No, not belatedly, Virgil realized, human vision is less sharp. The prince was immediately shocked upon seeing Creativity’s facial features. “Who- Who are you?” Another demand, significantly more unsettled than the first.

“Rude to ask without introducing yourself first,” the Summer fae vibrated with excitement, “hey, prince, what’s your name? Can I have it, pretty please?” Well. Creativity wasn’t wasting any time. Surely the human wasn’t so foolish as to freely give his Name away like that, right? Virgil wouldn’t find out.

“Give your name to your changeling at your own peril,” Deceit warned out of nothing more than petty sabotage, “he’s unlikely to be merciful with it.”

“Ch- Changeling-” The human prince gasped, looking at them with slowly dawning horror. Emphasis on the slowly dawning horror. He seemed a bit slow to Virgil.

“Deceit, you bag of frozen dicks, there was like a 50-50 chance he was going to be dumb enough to tell me-”

“You’re fae.” A simple statement from the other human, having finally caught up. Blue eyes looked at them with obviously forced composure. “May we ask for what purpose you’ve left your forest? We… Haven’t seen your kind in nearly two centuries.” Two centuries? That made sense, upon reflection. There had to have been a ceasefire between the Courts while the Queens begrudgingly collaborated. One-hundred-and-eighty years wasn’t an inconceivable length of time for that to have taken.

“You may ask your presumptuous question,” Deceit replied to the human while pretending to ignore Creativity’s ranting, “if you wish to proceed with the insulting implication that we need to justify our travels to the likes of you.” The promise of retribution was left unsaid. Virgil was so tired of this.

“We travel because I wish to travel.” It was an oversimplification, but the fae prince owed them nothing. “We left the forest because I desired to leave the forest. We head towards your kingdom because I wish to visit your kingdom. We shall continue on that journey, now, because I wish to continue on our journey-” An idea, an impromptu change in plans, “and I wish you to be our guides as we do so.” Who would know the kingdom better than its prince and his entourage? More importantly, the humans could act as a buffer between the Summer and Winter fae. “In exchange, the rudeness of your initial greeting shall be forgiven.” Which was convenient, as Virgil didn’t delight in doling out punishments.

Perhaps such sentiments made Virgil a poor fae, but he was fortunately their only prince. He turned to the mortals. “Introduce yourselves. What are your aliases?” Virgil didn’t expect the humans to freely give up their Names, but needed something to call them by. The surprised, panicked looks the two shared at the question was odd.

“I- Um- Creativity!” The human prince spoke the alias of his changeling. Virgil rapidly recalled their earlier conversation, trying to pinpoint how the prince knew it. Had they mentioned it while in earshot of the humans? Creativity had shouted at Deceit, but the Unseelie had only referred to Creativity as ‘changeling’. The fae hadn’t left the First Forest for longer than any being present had been alive, how could they have known-

“Hey!” Creativity snapped, lips pulled back in a snarl as to display his sharp teeth. “That’s my alias, copycat! You can’t have it!” Virgil held his arm out between Creativity and the human prince, blocking the Summer fae’s route to the human lest he lunge. Right. It wasn’t knowledge the human wasn’t meant to have, just a coincidence. Strange.

“Like a rabid dog…” Deceit clicked his tongue disdainfully, taking the opportunity to get a dig in. “Tut-tut, Creativity. That seems to be an unexpectedly popular choice- Which is to say: an unoriginal one.” Well... At least Creativity didn’t seem likely to tear his human counterpart to pieces, now that he had a new target. Unfortunately, Virgil refused to put up with that nonsense.

“‘Deceit’ is an unusual choice for a fae.” Virgil acknowledged the rarity of the Winter fae’s choice. “Anxiety, on the other hand… I am hardly the first. There must have been countless ‘Anxiety’s before me.” The point Virgil was making wasn’t subtle. The insulting insinuation Deceit made at Creativity’s expense applied to the fae’s prince as well.

Deceit paled, bowing slightly. Not ideal, but better than full on grovelling, especially with the mortal witnesses. “My apologies,” he murmured, “I meant you no offence. ‘Anxiety’ fits none other more than yourself.” Virgil sighed, feeling immensely tired as Deceit overcorrected for his ‘insult’. The humans looked confused, which only increased his exhaustion.

“I took no offence.” A part of Virgil wanted Deceit to do something that would provoke him to take offence, though that was a strange and irrational desire. A confusing feeling the prince himself struggled to understand. Virgil turned back to the mortals, wanting to return to the original subject. “I ask once more: What are your aliases?”

A moment of silence, then the human prince’s companion introduced himself. “I will go by ‘Logic’, if you have no objections to the choice.” The words were phrased and spoken carefully, not unlike Deceit when Virgil had first been given him. Not unlike Deceit now, in truth. The fae prince had no issue with choice of ‘Logic’, though he thought ‘Cautious’ would suit the human equally well.

“That will do.” Virgil nodded his assent before looking expectantly at the mortal prince. He was- Was the mortal pouting?

Logic nudged the human prince with his elbow. “Prince, you have to choose a different word.” The reproach in his voice, the way Logic seemed willing to tell his prince that he had to do anything- It made Virgil feel… Something. Something unpleasant that he didn’t wish to dwell on.

The human prince shook his head slightly -to clear it, Virgil assumed- before letting out a quiet sigh. Disappointed to have his first choice already taken. “I suppose ‘Prince’ will do, then.” The mortal prince acquiesced before looking at Creativity. “Unless you’ve already laid claim to that as well.”

Creativity laughed. He guffawed, falling to the ground and cackling like the madman he was. Anxiety understood why. ‘Prince’ had previously been taken by a member of the fae trio. A young Virgil had used it as a placeholder before deciding on his current alias. Deceit, for his part, kept his face impassive. Virgil understood: The unseelie was waiting to see Virgil’s reaction before displaying his own.

“‘Prince’ will do.” Virgil had never felt particularly attached to the word in the first place. It had been naught but a placeholder for a reason. “Refer to myself as ‘Anxiety’.” The humans had already heard it mentioned, but it felt right to say it nonetheless. “We will not return to the First Forest until a full year has passed.” Best to make the boundaries of the situation clear. “You will be our guides until then.” Throughout it all, Virgil was careful not to look directly at Creativity’s manic display of amusement. If he didn’t acknowledge it, then he could pretend it wasn’t happening.

After all, Virgil ‘not looking at’ and ‘not acknowledging’ things to pretend they weren’t happening was the entire point of this journey. Looking away, Virgil sighed.

LINE BREAK (Roman’s POV)

Roman leaned over to whisper to Logan, his dear friend and future advisor: “How are we supposed to entertain three fae for an entire year?” Was there anything short of burning the kingdom down that would entertain their kind? Roman needed Logan to have the answers, as he didn’t. His royal lessons hadn’t prepared the prince for this. The fae were gone -had been gone- for nearly two centuries! A danger of the past, beings that ceased to leave their eerie forest! Roman wasn’t equipped to deal with this! “Forget merely being caught in the crossfire of their wars like ancient times, what if they get so offended they decide to attack us directly?” “Then I’ll get to have fun!” Roman’s own changeling, which was horrifying to contemplate, gleefully interrupted. Evidently the visitors could hear Roman’s not-so-discreet whispers, despite his hushed tone. Did fae have better hearing? Roman would have to ask Logan, assuming he hadn’t just caused a self-fulfilling prophecy with his earlier words. The fae’s lack of offence would’ve been comforting were it not for the clear delight in his lookalike’s gleaming green eyes. “Burn up the crops and dry out the lakes! Turn life to ash, ‘till new form it takes!”

One of the others, so called ‘Deceit’, sneered. His partial scales and serpent’s eye made the expression all the more unsettling and uncanny. “How predictable of your kind, Creativity. Lacking any sort of innovation or deviation from the norm.” There was a strong disdain between those two, one made obvious by the constantly exchanged barbs. “Messy and overdramatic, too. Better to pull the warmth from every breath, sending them off to their final rest.”

Roman winced at the antagonistic tension between the two. It was obvious that Deceit and Creativity were from different Courts, even without Logan’s meaningful looks. Roman wasn’t oblivious, despite what his friend-and-advisor seemed to think. The blatant references to burning versus freezing were impossible to miss. No, the only word beginning with ‘o’ which applied to Roman was ‘optimist’. Spiteful as the fae’s exchanges were, at least the two were willing to travel together. Wait, the prince realised, if the only ‘o’ word that suits me is ‘optimist’, does that mean I can’t be ‘outstanding’?

“Oh, like that’s any better-” Creativity heatedly shot back, snapping Roman out of his musings. Right, the fae. The fae who were here for strange, suspicious reasons whose offence could cascade into something terrible for Roman’s people. Citizens dependant on their prince’s ability to navigate this unexpected diplomatic curveball. He had to focus! To be charming! Oh, now that was a missed opportunity, he could’ve gone by the alias ‘Charming’ instead of ‘Prince’, or perhaps-

“I wasn’t the one to insist others refer to me as ‘Creative’ being-” Deceit’s voice was cold, disrupting Roman’s ruminations. Logan was shooting him a heated look, clearly aware of his prince’s wandering thoughts. Okay, alright, it was time for Roman to open his mouth and brilliantly ease the tension-

“Silence.” The final and most mysterious member of the fae trio hissed, voice carrying the forcefulness of a storm. Purple eyes flashed with otherworldly light. Abruptly, Roman understood why the fae had introduced himself as Anxiety. His voice and visage provoked a primordial fear. Not unlike staring helplessly at an oncoming disaster, the inevitability of it all sinking deep into one’s bones, the certainty of being nothing, small, insignificant insects about to be squashed- Only for the terror to end a frightened heartbeat later. Roman sharply inhaled, light-headed from holding his breath. The cautionary tales he’d been told had downplayed the otherworldliness of the fae.

Roman glanced at Logan, whose face was impassive but unhealthily pale, his knuckles holding the reins of his horse white with tension. The horses, for their parts, were frozen in place. It was either a testament to their training that they hadn’t outright fled, or a sign they understood it would’ve been futile. Roman clapped his friend on the shoulder in hopes of snapping him out of it. Logan flinched before giving him a simultaneously grateful and reproachful look, which Roman counted as a win. That settled, he cast his gaze to the previously bickering fae, surely relishing in their ‘amusing mortal fear’-

Huh. That was strange. If anything, Deceit looked the most terrified of them all. Anxiety seemed stunned -at his own outburst?- and Creativity… Roman’s copycat had the most deranged smile the prince ever had the misfortune to see. He hadn’t thought such a distressing expression possible, and did not relish in the revelation. Particularly on this eerie copy of his own face.

Creativity pretended to clap without actually making a sound. The Summer fae still seemed more delighted than ought to be possible, which was incredibly disturbing. Perhaps it was just the surrealness of Roman seeing his own face on another’s? Knowing the other had been born to steal his life. Unless- Unless that was still the plan. To assassinate him now and usurp his kingdom-

Wait. It took Roman a moment to realize it, but the forest was quiet. Too quiet. A lack of sound he’d never experienced before, without a single bird’s song or buzzing from a bug. No rustling leaves nor branches being stepped on. Just silence.

The quiet was deafening, fragile yet impossible to break- Until Logan’s voice abruptly cut through the silence. Roman couldn’t help but flinch at the sudden noise. It felt loud, louder than could be put into words despite the fact he knew it wasn’t. It was Logan’s usual volume, amplified by the surreal silence. “We can finish the journey to the castle without verbal discussion, if that’s your preference.” Roman’s friend sounded remarkably calm as he broke the unnatural silence, though their childhood together ensured the prince could tell it was forced.

Anxiety looked at his fae companions before shaking his head. “No-” The fae paused to clear his throat, an echo of that earlier storminess still in his voice. “No. That- That won’t be necessary. Not for any member of our travels.” That line was clearly directed at his fellow fae. “I simply tire of the bickering.” There was a heavy weariness there, all the telltale signs of an understatement. For the first time since Roman realized what the trio were, he felt a sense of empathy. If the other two were always like this…

“Understandable,” Roman sincerely assured him, feeling a little less off-footed. Sure, the fae was terrifying and mysterious, but was there anything more universal than the tiredness in his voice? Goodness knows Roman felt similarly after long days of lessons or scoldings for poor performance on those lessons. Who -other than Logan- could really blame him for struggling to pay attention to endless lectures on history and political alliances of centuries long past? Most of them weren’t even relevant anymore! “Is there something else you’d prefer to discuss?”

“Tell me of your kind.” Was Anxiety's immediate, curt response. “Is it true you endlessly tend to fields of plants in the hopes Summer will be generous enough to nourish them, and Winter merciful enough to allow them to endure?” What a strange way to ask them if they had farmers.

“Of course,” Roman replied, perplexed by the question, “what other options do we have? Foraging and hunting can only get a civilization so far, and every person needs to eat to survive.” The prince paused, taking a moment to reconsider his words before forging on regardless. There was a hint in there, in that odd wording. In the ancient wars of the fae, Roman knew the seasons had been extreme and deadly. He’d had the prosperousness of the most recent centuries impressed onto him over the course of countless boring lessons. He’d even paid attention to some of them! “Is- Would you call it deliberate generosity or mercifulness?”

Melancholy purple eyes blinked at him, an ethereal gracefulness -exhaustion- in the act. “I doubt the Queens consider the welfare of mortal crops,” Anxiety murmured, “but blessings granted on behalf of one can benefit another.” The fae sighed, looking away. “I’ve no desire to continue with this topic of conversation.” Once more, Roman was struck by how tired he looked, though the other two fae didn’t seem to think anything strange of it. Their expressions suggested this was normal, or that they simply didn’t care. Deceit looked tense, still, and Creativity pleased. “We shall visit the first farm we come across,” Anxiety declared impassively, gaze returning to meet Roman’s, “I… Wish to see it.”

LINE BREAK (Roman’s POV)

On their way to the castle -to host fae that may or may not intend to murder him- Roman noticed a farm. Not a particularly well taken care of one, perhaps, but a farm nonetheless. He wondered if it was abandoned before gesturing to it, looking into Anxiety’s purple eyes. “There’s an example of a farm, though I’m uncertain if there’s anyone maintaining it.” It was concerning. The land was closer to the forest than most, true, but surely fertile. For there to be no one in sight, the land not being worked on despite the fact it was newly summer… The more Roman thought of it, the worse he felt. This was a farm in his kingdom, making the wellbeing of the people who lived here his responsibility. People who might be gone, potentially even dead-

“There’s people in that building,” Anxiety’s words soothed Roman’s internal fretting, “three of them.” The fae’s head tilted to the side, not unlike a bird. Graceful, Roman couldn’t help but notice, he put the prettiest birds to shame. Wait, what- Why did he just- Yes, it was true, naturally, the fae were graceful beings- “There were four, until recently. Now three. Soon to be two.” Any relief Roman had originally felt was replaced by dread. “Two?” Roman repeated, pained at the implication. Perhaps- “Do you mean that one has left the building, and another will soon follow?” That was innocuous enough. “They’re still- They’re alright, aren’t they?” The prince’s heart panged at the thought of Anxiety’s words meaning what he’d initially taken them as.

“Pfft,” Creativity snickered, clearly amused, “I doubt it! They’re dead, right, Anxiety? One of them died already, and the other will soon, right?” He treated the idea like a joke, instead of the respect such a tragedy deserved. Roman’s fists curled in anger as he looked at the changeling. To think, this compassionless monster almost stole his life and his crown. The thought of it, of this uncaring fae having power over Roman’s people, not caring for their plights and sorrows…

“Prince.” Logan’s voice was a soft but firm admonishment. Roman took a deep breath, forcing his hands to unclench and looking at his friend. Despite his tone, in his advisor’s eyes there was compassion. Logan understood what Roman was like, knew the protectiveness and responsibility he felt for his people. Which was why he was stopping Roman before he could do something that might have consequences. The prince nodded, grateful. He couldn’t give into that anger, not when others would suffer for it.

Deceit clicked his tongue. “Perhaps a different farm, then, Anxiety?” The winter fae clearly didn’t care either, but callous disregard was better than abject amusement. The bar Creativity had set was very low. “If you wish to see how… Mortals live,” there was definite bafflement there, “this seems a poor example.” Anxiety was quiet for a long moment. “It is natural for mortals to die.” His voice was impersonal but soft. “Does that not make this the perfect example of how mortals live?” Roman wasn’t sure how to take that. Unsure where on the scale that sentiment fell, between Deceit’s lack of care and Creativity's clear entertainment. At least Anxiety’s intent was clear as he walked towards the farmhouse. “I wish to visit.”

They were only halfway to the farmhouse when a girl -perhaps in her fourteenth or fifteenth year- left it, rushing out to meet them. Gaze fixed on Roman, specifically his circlet and armour. “G- Greetings.” She awkwardly curtsied, the gesture clumsy in the way anyone’s first attempt at a curtsy would be. Roman could see how thin her wrist was, the stress and desperation obvious in her eyes. “I greet Your Highness and- and his… Um…” She looked frantically between them all, clearly unsure the proper term of address.

“Companions.” Logan offered, clearly taking sympathy on her. Roman, for his part, had already dismounted from his horse.

Roman hurried to assure her. “It’s alright, there’s no need for such formalities. Please, how can I help you?” It was obvious she needed assistance, and the prince would do his best to provide. He had some funds on him. If it could save her or her loved ones from the fate Anxiety had implied…

“H- Help me?” There was a mixture of hope yet wariness in her dark eyes. Roman’s heart ached. “You- You really will?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “My- My name is-”

“Ah, don’t mention your name,” Roman interrupted her, glancing warily at the trio of fae. “Is there something else you could go by?”

“S- Something else?” She repeated, confused before complying. “I- D- Dearheart? My- My mother called me- That’s what she used to call me.”

Roman nodded, doing his best to smile encouragingly despite the sorrow he felt. He noticed the past tense in regards to Dearheart’s mother. There had been four, Anxiety had mentioned. Now three. “Yes, thank you, Dearheart. Tell me, what do you need? I will help you, I promise.”

Dearheart took a deep breath, blinking back tears. “My brother… He’s sick,” she explained, “sick like- like Mother was. And she…” Had died from it. It didn’t need to be explicitly spoken for Roman to understand.

“What sickness? What symptoms?” Logan could likely identify the illness if Dearheart didn’t already know. “Do you know the nearest place I could purchase medicine for him?” If the coin Roman had on him wasn’t enough, he’d simply swear to return with more. He could leave something of his as collateral, if necessary. “I’ll bring it to you, I swear it-” “He will perish before your return.” Anxiety cut Roman off, eyes locked on the building as if he could see through it. Seeming to ignore the mournful sound of heartbreak Dearheart let out. “He will be dead within the hour. There are no mortal means to save him.” Roman flinched, failure and responsibility hitting him like a dagger to the heart. He- If what Anxiety said was true, which it had to be, fae couldn’t outright lie- “Dearheart,” Anxiety finally looked directly at the girl, “I am willing to make a Deal.”

Roman froze. Logan froze. Even Creativity and Deceit froze. For a moment, it felt like the entire world paused.

“A… Deal?” Dearheart sounded confused, bewildered enough to be distracted from grief. She looked at Anxiety, and Roman could see the moment the girl understood what she was seeing. Only a fae could look so graceful while standing still, or be born with bright violet eyes. “You’re… You’ll save my brother? Heal him, restore his health, protect him from future sickness?”

Roman looked to Logan, who looked as worried as the prince felt. Worried, but not enough to risk offending the fae by interfering. Roman hated the idea of this poor girl’s desperation being taken advantage of, Dearheart saving her beloved brother at some terrible cost-

“If you agree to my Deal, yes.” Anxiety replied without missing a beat. “For my part…” He turned to his fae companions. “Have you any suggestions?”

“Oooooh! Ooooh!” Creativity excitedly waved his hand in the air. “Make her get sick and die of it instead! Or make her have all the symptoms whenever he gets sick, but twice as strong!”

Roman certainly felt sick at the proposal.

“I accept,” Dearheart didn’t hesitate, “if that’s the price of saving him-“

“No.” Anxiety cut her off. Roman felt a mixture of gratitude and -fittingly- anxiety at what he would choose instead. “Deceit?”

Deceit hummed thoughtfully. “Perhaps you might force her to share every secret she shall ever have with those she would seek to hide them from?” Dearheart remained silent this time as Anxiety clearly considered it before shaking his head.

“A variation.” The purple-eyed fae declared. Anxiety stared into Dearheart’s eyes. “There will be two parts to my deal. The first is to tell us your most painful secret, the one you most fear becoming known. The second part… I will decide afterwards.”

Dearheart wavered, clearly cautious of making vague, binding deals with a fae. Rightfully so, in Roman’s opinion. Anxiety, previously considered the most tolerable of the trio by the prince, was rapidly showing his colours. Reminding Roman that the lack of outward amusement of mortal suffering didn’t change what was on the inside.

“I- I’m not my dad’s daughter,” Dearheart’s barely audible whisper cut through the still air, “my- my mother told me on her deathbed.” The girl’s eyes were wet with tears, sympathetic ones springing up in Roman’s own. What a devastating truth to learn during an already distressing time. “My brother is his and- And I am not.”

Creativity began cackling as Deceit’s lips curled upwards. Roman wanted to punch them, run them through with his sword-

“Creativity, cease your laughter.” Anxiety’s voice was cold. Unyielding, with the expectation of being obeyed. The laughter cut off, the Seelie fae pouting but not opening his mouth to complain. A miracle, really. “Dearheart, this is the deal I offer you: You will not tell any other being that secret, nor make any attempt to relay the information whatsoever. You will never speak of it, hint to it, nor confirm suspicions of it that are brought up to you. Forever, you lose the right to share this secret of yours. You will never know, of your own volition, if his love is conditional. If he loves you more than he would hate you for the truth. If-” Anxiety faltered for a moment, suddenly looking away. The next words he spoke were soft, almost mournful. “You will never know,” he repeated, “if who and what you are ever mattered beyond being his.”

“Anxiety-”

Roman had the dubious honour of speaking in accidental sync with the two other fae. Deceit… His neutral tone gave no hints to his feelings, but Creativity seemed genuinely surprised. As for Roman’s own voice… The concern and compassion in it was obvious, given the look Logan gave him. The prince understood why. Fae were known to be prideful, concern could be taken as an insult, but- For a moment, Roman hadn’t seen a capricious fae. He’d just seen a person who was sad. Lonely.

Anxiety flinched, glaring at all three of them. Roman saw Logan tense in the corner of his eyes, and yet… Anxiety looked more defensive than offended in Roman’s eyes. Not to say that the purple-eyed fae didn’t look dangerous. There was a volatile, non-metaphorical gleam in his gaze that Roman‘s hindbrain warned him to fear.

Fortunately -or unfortunately, they were all about to find out- Roman had plenty of experience in ignoring the logical part of his brain in favour of doing what he felt was right.

“Anxiety.” Roman repeated, daring to lay a hopefully comforting hand on his shoulder. Next to him, Logan let out a strangled sound of terrified disapproval. Not unlike the sound the prince imagined his friend would make if Roman stuck his hand in a lion’s mouth while surrounded by hissing pit vipers. While actively being on fire. It sounded a bit like the whistle of a tea kettle. Roman focused on the wide, violet eyes staring at him with shock instead of his own mortal peril. Anxiety opened his mouth as if to speak, only for no sound to come out. Roman decided to say his piece before everyone around him recovered. “It will be alright.”

(Art by @selfdestructivecat)

“Anxiety,” Deceit was the first to regain his voice, “If it pleases you, I shall… Deal with the mortal that presumed to touch you.” The implication of serious maiming to possible death was clear in his words.

“Hah!” Creativity snarled at Deceit. “If any of us gets to do immense physical or mental harm to Lame-Human-Prince it should be me! Anxiety wouldn’t take that from me! I’m his favourite.” That seemed to strike a nerve, as Deceit hissed at him, looking rather enraged. Roman wanted no part in their fight, especially since it was partially over who got the pleasure of hurting him.

The (not lame) human prince slowly removed his hand from Anxiety’s shoulder, looking said fae in the eyes. “If you dislike physical contact, I should not have touched you,” Roman openly acknowledged, “I apologize for that. My intent was to-” comfort “- I mean, that was not my intent.” Probably wasn’t a good idea to say Roman thought the fae needed comfort, particularly from him. “I will keep your boundaries in mind in the future.” There, that was hopefully fine, right? He was tempted to glance at Logan to see his advisor’s expression, but breaking eye contact with Anxiety would feel rude.

Anxiety blinked, slowly, gaze momentarily falling to Roman’s hand. “It was… Not unpleasant.” Came his eventual answer, before the fae turned to face Dearheart once more. His cheeks seemed to have a faint -purple?- flush to them, but Roman blinked and it was gone. A trick of the light, then. “You will never know if his love is conditional,” Anxiety repeated, “because you will forget. You will forget this secret of yours, and it will cease to be true. You will become his child, a full-blooded sister to your half-brother. As if you always were.”

That was generous. Almost unbelievably so, from what Roman had heard of the fae. Unless there was a trick there, wordplay that would spell Dearheart’s doom- “I accept the deal,” Dearheart replied without hesitation, tears in her eyes. “I accept. And-” She bowed a little, the gesture sincere albeit unpracticed. “Thank you, Sir Fae. Thank you.” There were sparks of purple, gleaming motes of it dancing in the air as a sense of vertigo passed over Roman. Then it was over. He looked at Dearheart, who seemed unharmed. Her hair was a little darker, chin slightly pointier and a hint of a change to the curve of her lips as she blinked. Turning around and as a small child opened the door of the farmhouse. A healthy looking boy. “Sis,” Dearheart’s younger brother called out, “what’re you doin’ there?”

Dearheart laughed lightheartedly as she raced back down towards him. “We have to sow seeds if we want a harvest, silly! Wake Dad up, we need to get to work!” The kid perked up at being given such an important task. “Okay!” With that, he ran back into the house. “Dad! Daaaaaad!” His lungs were really quite powerful. “We have to work on the farm!” A few moments later an adult man left the farmhouse. It was hard to tell from the distance, but Roman thought the colour of his hair seemed a perfect match for Dearheart’s now. The prince turned at Anxiety, intending to thank him for this kind deed.

Roman was faced with the sight of the fae’s back, as he’d already turned around. “I wish to leave now. I do not intend to spend more time here.” Anxiety’s tone was curt, firm. A declaration, not a request.

Once more, Roman couldn’t help the thought that the fae was sad.

LINE BREAK (Virgil’s POV)

For an hour, Virgil basked in the blissful quiet. Not the unnatural, absolute silence he’d unintentionally Commanded earlier, just… The sounds of travel. The chirping of birds. The lack of incessant Seelie-Unseelie bickering. Even the appearance of a city coming into view didn’t elicit a verbal reaction from the travellers. It couldn’t last forever.

“…You should’ve made her get sick more often.” Creativity grumbled. “Or made her remember the deal, so she’d always know she’s an imposter. No matter what she looks like now.”

Virgil decided to reply before Deceit could. “Why should I have done that?” His tone was light, curious. Truthfully, the fae prince enjoyed moments like these, when Creativity would voice opinions. Virgil rarely agreed with those opinions, but… It was pleasant. He noticed the glance Prince shot their way, and the sudden tenseness of Logic’s knuckles. The humans were listening intently.

“Be- Because that’s how it works!” Creativity passionately insisted. “Give and take! They want something, so they gotta get it on your terms! They can’t get something from nothing, so they gotta give something up! Otherwise you’re the only one giving, and you’re not getting anything!”

Virgil hummed thoughtfully. There was truth in the protestation. The prince had used the Power that ran through his veins to alter reality. He hadn’t offset bettering one aspect of Dearheart’s existence at the cost of another, nor had he gained any tangible prize for his efforts. Virgil had acquired no firstborn nor glittering jewel. However, Creativity was missing an important fact: “Except I did benefit from my Deal, in a manner I could not have if the terms had differed.”

“Benefit?” Prince asked, daring to interrupt the conversation. Virgil found he didn’t mind. “How did you benefit?” A fair question, one Virgil wouldn’t indulge. It wouldn’t do to show weakness.

“The answer to your question is greater than you can afford. You will have to accept never learning it.” Virgil, fae prince and son of both Queens, had no intention of telling anyone the painful truth: I got to pretend.

For a brief moment, Virgil had indulged in the fantasy of a world where conditional love never had to be put to the test. A pleasant delusion soured the reality of the situation: Virgil may have changed Dearheart’s fate, but his own remained unaltered. Even the girl’s familial tragedy had only been delayed. Once the Eternal War resumed… That farm was too close to the First Forest to be spared.

Logic cleared his throat, gesturing at a gate. “That is the city’s main entrance.” It looked to be manned by four guards. “As your… Guides, I ask that you allow us to arrange your admission into the city.” It looked busy. Very, very busy.

“Do you expect for us to wait in that line?” Deceit seemed incredulous at the idea of it. Understandable, as no fae had ever been foolhardy enough to try to make their prince wait in any line. However, there was a novelty to it that Virgil didn’t mind exploring. It was his Mothers that viewed the idea of Virgil being made to wait in line as an insulting, incredibly dangerous misstep for a fae to make.

“Let’s break in!” Creativity suggested, evidently distracted from his earlier complaints. Good. “Let’s start a riot and sneak in during the chaos! Actually, not a riot! A fire! Let’s start a fire then a riot, and sneak in while it burns!”

Prince turned around, pointing an accusatory finger at Creativity. “None of that,” he snapped, “no damage of property nor person. You will not harm my people! You can visit, yes, as guests, but I won’t have you hurting the people I’m responsible for!”

LINE BREAK (Roman PoV)

Silence. Silence not as absolute as the one Anxiety had prompted in the forest, yes, but the stunned quiet of a group of people shocked at the audacity of a soon-to-be-punished fool. Roman couldn’t quite bring himself to regret being that fool. He would, if his folly hurt his people, but to listen to such malicious plans and say nothing… The prince couldn’t bear it. He lacked the restraint to bite his tongue in the wake of his protective fury.

Creativity leaned over to Anxiety in a way that was decidedly inhuman. The changeling’s neck bent sideways at an angle no mortal could survive, his bright green eyes gleaming -glowing, almost- in the light. “Anxiety,” Creativity calmly murmured with what Roman noticed were incredibly sharp teeth, “can I kill him? Please? I’ve changed my mind about wanting to see this kingdom, I just want to burn it all to spite him.” Roman bristled, feeling such helplessness and hatred for the monster wearing his face-

Anxiety bodily moved Creativity’s head back into proper position, face impassive. “No.” The reply was a simple, absolute denial that filled Roman with relief. “Even if I let you, you would regret it later.” The fae seemed confident in his statement. Confident enough to speak the words aloud, and even in this emotional moment Roman still remembered their inability to lie. “You cannot undo burning a kingdom to the ground, Creativity.”

Creativity dramatically fell to the ground, looking exactly like a marionette whose strings had been severed. When the fae spoke, it was in a childish whine. “I’m just feeling a little spicy, that’s all! Just- I just want to make things burn, Anxiety, don’t you understand? He ordered me around! He doesn’t get to order me around! And he’s mean.” Roman was mean? Mean? Ordering Creativity not to slaughter innocents was mean? To think, for even a moment, that Roman had thought the other some long-lost brother upon meeting him-

Deceit’s sneer was audible in his voice as he commented, “Pathetic, wasting our time in such a fashion…”

“Perhaps,” Logan cautiously spoke up, “you might agree to do the kingdom at large no intentional harm without Anxiety’s consent?” Wait, what? Why would Roman’s friend ask for that? Sure, Anxiety seemed the least malicious of the fae trio by a wide margin. He may even be ambivalent, though it was hard to say about the pretty fae- the pretty tricky fae. The fae were pretty tricky, the purple-eyed fae was doubtlessly no exception. The point was- What was the point again? Right! The point was that Creativity might destroy the kingdom at the mere suggestion he metaphorically march to the beat of Anxiety’s equally metaphorical drums!

“I can agree to that.” Deceit spoke, looking at Anxiety. What? “Anxiety, I shall not intentionally cause widespread harm to this kingdom over the course of our trip without your consent.” Why did the Winter fae look like he was expecting praise over that? Why had he agreed to it in the first place?

“Yeah, well I can agree to it even more!” Creativity spoke up, popping back up to his feet like nothing had happened. “I mean, I agree to the same thing Deceit just did, Anxiety, but it’s more of a sacrifice for me because I was the one who really wanted to destroy the place!” Again, what? What was this? What had Logan noticed that Roman had missed? He looked at his advisor with confusion. Logan looked- Huh. Logan looked simultaneously relieved, vindicated and terrified at the same time. It was a very strange expression.

Anxiety’s clear voice distracted the human prince from his friend. “Do you still want to ‘destroy the place’, Creativity?” The fae sounded… Also relieved, oddly enough, as well as tired and fond. Roman just wished he had the intellectual brilliance to put all these strange puzzle pieces together into some sort of cohesive whole. What did all this mean? What was he overlooking? How would this affect his people?

“No, not really.” Creativity’s nonplussed answer came. “It passed. But I probably will again, later! So I’m still making a greater sacrifice!”

“Just because I have self restraint-” Deceit hissed out some response as Roman tuned out the sound of fae bickering. He approached the guarded entrance to his kingdom with Logan, the fae following them. They were immediately let in, as a result of his royal position. The fae trio were never going to have to wait in that line they’d so dreaded. Well… One member of the trio hadn’t complained. Roman looked over to Anxiety.

The fae was taking in the sights, interest clear in those bright purple eyes. There was a light to them that reminded Roman of a star- There his mind went again, without permission. Roman resolved to focus, to remain vigilant for the rest of the year. Roman wondered where Patton would be at this time- “Oh no. Oh dear. ‘Oh no, no, no’ and ‘oh dear, dear, dear’.” They had to warn the incredibly friendly Patton not to introduce himself to the fae! Speaking of the fae- “Are your jittery mutterings directed at me?” Anxiety asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. Roman flushed in embarrassment at the realization he’d been staring at the fae the entire time. Roman’s panic spiked higher as he reminded himself about the importance of not causing a diplomatic incident.

“Eh- Erm, n- no.” Oh, how his tutors would weep at such a fumbled reply. A glance at Logan revealed his friend had his signature ‘Roman’s-Nonsense-Is-Giving-Me-A-Tension-Headache’ expression. Alright, focus! It was time for Roman to prove himself the charming, valiant prince he aspired to be. “I simply was worrying about logistics.” See, Logan, Roman couldn’t help the look he shot the man, I know words like logistics! “And… Well, I…” Logan had already wrangled an agreement out of the fae, what was one more? Roman set his shoulders resolutely, looking seriously into Anxiety’s -luminous?- eyes. “Anxiety, I must ask: Do you intend to take the Names of any of my people? Do any members of your trio possess such intent?”

“I can speak for myself!” Creativity exclaimed in outraged offence. “And the answer for me is: I do now, just to bother you! Before I didn’t really care, besides wanting your stupid Name.” The despicable changeling shot Roman a frustratingly hopeful look. “Hey, speaking of which, can I have your name, Mister Human Prince?” Roman didn’t get the chance to refuse.

“You can not have his Name.” Anxiety announced, as if his word was law on the matter. A declaration that the fae clearly expected Creativity to obey. Roman had an epiphany as to why Logan had asked the trio of fae to defer to Anxiety’s judgement in regards to harming the kingdom. Anxiety was clearly supervising the other two in some manner! Like… Hmmm… Oh! Like a nanny, looking after a pair of rambunctious children!

Exactly like a rambunctious child being denied sweets, Creativity pouted. Looking at Anxiety with pleading, melodramatically-betrayed, eerie green eyes. “What? Really? But whyyyyyyyyy? I thought you loved me!” A pause. “I mean, I still think you love me, but I don’t understand why I can’t have his Name!” Deceit hissed, like a snake about to strike. “What makes you think he loves you?” The bite to his words was greater than Roman had heard from the Winter fae before, his snake-eye glinting in the sun. “Creativity.” Anxiety’s tone was that of blatantly-forced calm. “I have never expressed such sentiment towards you. That aside, neither of you will be taking any Names during this trip. That is final. If a mortal gives you their Name, you will give it right back to them! If you have any complaints…” Those pretty purple eyes looked much more intimidating when the fae glared at his companions, snapping at them. “Then I suggest you consider it compensation for the way the two of you have been driving me mad since we left!” Deceit looked contrite. Creativity blew a raspberry. Anxiety looked like he was regretting everything in his life that had led up to this moment. Yes, Roman was certain of it. This was exactly like a nanny looking after a pair of terrible children!

LINE BREAK (Virgil’s POV)

Virgil fumed as they headed towards the castle, stormclouds gathering ominously in the sky above them. Thunder boomed, though not a single drop of rain dared to fall. He was so frustrated. The state of things were awful enough without Deceit and Creativity making things worse! Their bickering was one thing, trying to steal the human prince’s Name on top of that was- Wait, why did Virgil find it so unacceptable? He blinked in bafflement, the sky clearing up slightly. Was it due to the fact that harming their mortal guides would further sour this final year of peace?

Yet… Virgil had forbidden the taking of not just Prince’s and Logic’s Names, but any Name at all. Reflecting over his emotional response, Virgil could recognize that he’d lashed out. He didn’t want to treat his companions like that, despite how stressful they were. Virgil wished he could freely apologize for it. He knew… Virgil understood the fundamental incompatibility between Seelie and Unseelie. His Mothers, both of whom possessed such all-encompassing hatred for one another, were proof enough of that. The fae prince sighed, repressing his misery over his familial situation as best he could. There was nothing else for it, beyond a distraction. Fortunately, Prince was looking at him with a bit of concern, likely due to the rainclouds Virgil had subconsciously gathered. “Prince, distract me.” An impassively spoken demand.

“D- Distract you?” Came the panicked response, the human looking worried. “Um…” Prince’s grass green eyes metaphorically lit up with an idea. Looking into them, Virgil mused on how much they differed from Creativity’s own. The Seelie’s bright green eyes were more reminiscent of a particularly poisonous frog’s colouration, warning predators that feasting on them would be a fatal mistake. Belatedly, Virgil realized the human prince had successfully -and unwittingly- distracted him already. “Anxiety, do you want to meet the Objectively Nicest Person Ever?” Intrigued, Virgil raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression ‘Nicest Person Ever’ was not an objective claim.” It was an amusing quirk, the ability to casually lie like it was nothing. Strange to imagine that this verbal freedom humans possessed was impossible for even Virgil’s Mothers, the Queens. “It is a figure of speech.” Logic explained on behalf of his prince. “A way to emphasize how strongly Prince feels about his statement. The conviction he has in his opinion that… That person is the ‘Nicest Person’.” There was a disapproval in the man’s voice, but it wasn’t directed at Virgil. The fae suspected Logic didn’t particularly want them meeting this allegedly very nice person. Unfortunately for him, Virgil’s curiosity had been piqued.

Prince fondly rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know you hate the metaphorical use of ‘literally’, Log- ic!” There was a pause as everyone registered how butchered that pronunciation of ‘Logic’ was. “Low-g-ick?” Creativity repeated, snickering. “I love it! I’m calling you ‘Low Ick’, now!” The Summer fae clapped, clearly delighted. “Maybe you do have a redeeming quality, Potentially-Not-Entirely-Lame-Human-Prince!” What a mouthful. How utterly ridiculous. Why were Virgil’s lips curling up into a half smile? He covered it with his hand, though not before noticing a brief crack in Deceit’s smugly disdainful expression as some worry shone through. Virgil was kind enough to pretend not to notice.

“You realize his face is the template upon which yours was cast, yes?” Virgil pointed out to Creativity, amused in spite of himself. “Do you not consider his looks a ‘redeeming quality?’ ” Creativity was vain, as most fae were, and was unlikely to relish in the insinuation that he considered himself unattractive.

The Summer fae grumbled, crossing his arms and looking away. For an unknown reason, Prince looked flustered. Odd. In the end, it was Deceit who spoke up first. “I must agree with Creativity on this matter, both the human prince and the changeling cast in his image are…” A pause while the Winter fae looked disdainfully upon the both of them. “Rather distasteful.”

“How dare you!” Creativity took immediate offence. “I’ll have you know that I taste delicious! The first time I lost an arm, I-”

“The first time?” Prince’s voice was high pitched with incredulity and distress at the thought. “How many arms have you lost? How many did you start with? Why did you have multiple arms if you were based on me?”

Logic leaned in to whisper into his prince’s ear. Unfortunately for him, fae hearing rendered the attempt at secrecy rather pointless. “Prince, you have multiple arms. Two of them, in fact.” An astute observation. “Creativity has also only ever had two arms attached to his body at any given time.” Virgil explained, feeling immense regret for the myriad of decisions -both his own and those made by others- that had led him to this moment in life. Simultaneously, the fae prince felt unexpectedly entertained. It was a strange duality. “He is a peculiar being, and his response to a request such as ‘distract me’ is to say ‘oooh, watch this!’”

The Seelie fae mentioned rolled his eyes. “But it worked, right, Anxiety? You seemed pretty distracted to me, afterwards!” Indeed, Virgil had been. Even for a fae, losing a limb was no minor injury. Creativity would’ve had to trick or convince another to take on the wound themselves had Virgil not panickedly asked his Seelie Mother to heal his fr- fae. At the time, the prince hadn’t the confidence in his own ability to resolve the problem.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. How had Virgil been saddled with a fae so utterly lacking in reason and self-preservation? At least Deceit was a more typical example of a fae. Virgil turned to his Unseelie companion. “Do not take after Creativity in that respect.” That was the last thing he needed, Deceit concluding that was key to earning Virgil’s favour… “Hah…” Virgil sighed. The topic of conversation had gone on long enough. “Let us meet this alleged ‘Nicest Person Ever’.”

LINE BREAK (Roman’s POV)

It was clear, based on the expression Anxiety had, that the fae hadn’t been prepared for Roman to be right. “It’s so nice to meet you, kiddo!” Patton greeted with his usual enthusiasm and sincerity. “Gosh, it’s been so long since a fae left the woods, but here you are! I hope you’re having a good time!” Roman’s friendliest advisor clapped his hands together expectantly, looking at Anxiety with such hope. The human prince studiously ignored the clear disapproval and dismay Logan was practically radiating.

“I- Uh- Um…” Yes, Anxiety definitely hadn’t anticipated Patton. From the baffled looks of the other two fae, neither had they. “Yes? I mean- I have enjoyed myself during parts of this trip? Which is a statement. I have enjoyed myself during parts of this trip.” It was delightful to see the purple-eyed fae flustered, with that purplish tint to his cheeks again. “How- How did you know that I am an adolescent?”

Wait, Anxiety wasn’t unfathomably old, as so many fae supposedly were? Creativity was a changeling based on Roman, therefore surely of similar age… Then Roman eyed Deceit. Were they all adolescents or new adults? Why? What was the purpose of all of this? The prince looked towards Logan, his brilliant advisor. The look on his face suggested this had confirmed some theory of his, though gave no hint as to what it was.

On that matter, How did this information factor into Roman’s own nanny-looking-after-rambunctious-children theory? Hmm… Oh! It fit in perfectly, thinking about it while staring at Logan! It was like Logan himself, constantly scolding and keeping Roman and Patton in line! Forcing them to do boring things like study and making sure they didn’t get in over their heads. The trio of fae must be friends, and Anxiety was just the peacekeeper of the group! Erm… Not that Roman was anything like Creativity, nor Patton akin to Deceit. Ugh.

Patton’s expression shifted sympathetically as his voice pulled Roman from his musings. “Only for ‘parts’ of the trip, huh? That’s a shame, but life is full of ups and downs. Here’s to hoping for more ups than downs! And I’ll do my part, too!” The words were matched with an encouraging smile. “Oh, and you can just consider that my Dad Senses tingling!”

Anxiety looked perplexed.. “Dad Senses?” Patton nodded solemnly. “A father always knows.”

Anxiety seemed even more confused, looking at Roman's friend over similarly to how he’d examined Dearheart’s farmhouse. “...You have not sired any children.”

“You don’t have to get someone pregnant to be a dad, kiddo! It’s all about what’s in your heart!” Patton winked at Roman. “Isn’t that right, sire?” Clearly unable to resist the pun. When Anxiety’s purple eyes met Roman’s gaze, he nodded.

“It’s true.” Roman confirmed. “It’s more of a… State of mind than anything else.” The fae seemed skeptical.

“Perhaps we might circle back to the topic later, are you-” Anxiety paused. “You never mentioned your alias.”

“Oh, that? How about ‘Dad?’” Patton offered, only to be immediately shut down by all three fae in unison.

“No.”

Patton pouted. “Okay, well… Heart?” A good proposal, but Creativity looked a little too excited about it for Roman’s comfort. He decided to speak up before the proposed alias was accepted.

“Would ‘Morality’ work?” Patton was a bastion of morality and good deeds, it would be a fitting choice. Thankfully, Roman’s friend took the suggestion well, nodding with a big smile. The fae seemed ambivalent.

“Right,” Anxiety spoke up once more, “Morality. Are you volunteering to assist in my attempts at having an enjoyable visit?”

Patton nodded enthusiastically. “Mhm! I’ll have you know I’m an expert bakery-er.” Patton tilted his head curiously. “Is that why you came over? To have a lil’ vacation away from home?”

“Essentially.” Anxiety casually answered, as if he hadn’t previously dodged questions of his intent. “What is a ‘bakery-er’?”

“It’s like how some people are good ‘shoppers’! I’m very good at going to bakeries! An expert, really!” Patton beamed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Do you like sweet things, Anxiety?” The bewildered uncertainty in Anxiety’s eyes had a smile twitching on Roman’s lips, thankfully able to hold back a chuckle. He was so proud of Patton. Who, other than his fantastic friend, could so successfully unnerve a fae via sheer sincerity?

Anxiety was silent for a moment, belatedly replying: “I… Like sweet things. Such as honey.”

“Fantastic!” Patton clapped in sheer delight. “Are you tired? You should rest if you are. If you aren’t, we can go right now! Otherwise, let’s go tomorrow! It’ll be fun!” A long pause passed before Deceit broke the silence. “Anxiety? Is there… Anything I might do to-” He was shortly interrupted by the very fae he was questioning. “No, no, that will not be necessary.” Those pretty purple eyes briefly met Patton’s earnest gaze before looking away. “We will rest tonight, and-” Anxiety’s gaze suddenly bore into Roman, with a light to them that the prince was beginning to think he wasn’t imagining. “Which rooms shall we be staying in?” Roman’s cheeks heated for some bizarre reason. “The- We have a diplomatic guest suite. I plan to ask the servants to prepare it for you-” Which he’d only hesitated to do earlier in hopes of his parents being asleep and therefore not awake to ask questions. A curt shake of Anxiety’s head. “There is no need for that. We will head there now and come to you on the morrow.” From one breath to the next, it abruptly felt like Roman was standing on a capsizing boat, the world tilting on its axis- then it was over, and the three fae were gone.

“Did they just… Vanish?” Roman questioned incredulously, looking at Logan for answers. “For that matter: Do they even know where their rooms are?” The prince imagined his parents laying in bed -chastely holding each other and not engaging in any activities that would traumatize Roman to imagine- only to suddenly have three fae visitors… One of them a deranged, moustachioed imitation of their son! Roman knew he couldn’t hide their ‘guests’ from his parents forever, but that would be the worst reveal.

Logan sighed, looking exhausted. “We must assume that they are aware, or trust that anyone being ousted from their bed will gracefully accept it.” He didn’t look particularly trusting in that belief. “Chasing them down after that announcement of their intent may seem… Rude. Moreover, they might not be gone at all.”

“You think they're merely hidden? How clever!” Roman turned to the spot the fae had disappeared from, carefully waving his hand through the space. Nothing. “Ah. Probably not, then.” That being mostly confirmed, the prince turned to his more enthusiastic friend. “Morality! You were wonderful. I knew introducing you was the right idea! There’s no better host in the world than you, my friend.” Patton would make sure the fae left with a good impression of them. Though Roman did wonder one thing… “Why did you focus so much on Anxiety? If it’s because of how pretty he is, I understand, but it would be unwise to pursue him.”

His friends shot him identical incredulous looks, apparently on the same page for once. Unfortunately, neither of them seemed eager to help Roman get to the same metaphorical book, let alone chapter. “I agree, it would be very unwise.” Logan’s tone suggested he was trying to get agreement from Roman- But it was Roman’s point in the first place! Of course he agreed with himself!

“Well, now, Logic, it’s a little early to say things like that!” Patton cheerily disagreed, continuing on while the other spluttered. “And it made sense to focus on him! He’s the one in charge!” Roman squinted at him, and the confidence in which he spoke. Still, the prince had his priorities. “I really want to know how you know that. Logic and I just figured it out, while you only met them moments ago! But…” Roman placed his hands on Patton’s shoulders, looking seriously at him. “Please do not pursue anything with Anxiety.” The very thought had the prince feeling anxious, ha. “I know he’s very pretty and seemingly uncharacteristically kind for a fae, but it’s too dangerous.” Yes, Anxiety had been merciful to Dearheart and reigned in his companion’s destructive desires, but nothing good would come from Patton pursuing him romantically! Roman could feel in his very bones how awful such a thing would be.

Patton patted one of the hands on his own shoulder comfortingly, nodding solemnly. “It’s okay, R- Prince, it’s alright. I know you think Anxiety is very pretty and apparently kind, but I won’t go looking for anything romantic with him. I promise.”

“Oh. Well…” Roman cleared his throat, embarrassed, and took a couple of steps back. He vaguely felt like he was missing something, and didn’t revel in the suspicion. “And the- The ‘you knowing Anxiety is in charge’ thing?”

“Before we move on, perhaps we might all swear not to pursue any fae romanti-” Logan didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. Patton shushed him, covering Logan’s mouth with his hand. “That isn’t necessary! And, to answer your question, Prince, it’s because he was looking around! With great interest!” The answer made sense, fitting with what Roman recalled of the purple-eyed fae, however…

“Wouldn’t a lack of interest mean the others might be in charge?” Roman felt a little silly asking, but this was Patton. His friend and advisor. Roman was meant to ask him questions, to get his opinion and wisdom on things! It was the same in regards to Logan, but that particular friend of his was currently being silenced by Patton’s palm.

Patton smiled paternally at Roman. “Not when they only really look at him, kiddo. Creativity looked around sometimes, but still mostly focused on Anxiety! And Deceit…” His smile faltered. “Deceit seemed to constantly be looking at Anxiety, like he was… Waiting to see how Anxiety reacted to things so- so he could react in a way that matched.” Patton wrung his hands together. “It reminded me of some of the guests we’ve had before. Y’know, important people who are from places that are… Strict with their servants, and… Well...” Patton’s voice glumly trailed off. Strict, of course, was a polite substitute for ‘cruel’.

To some degree, Roman could see it, based on Patton’s observations. “But they’re constantly driving him mad with their bickering. Anxiety even said as much! If they were… Frightened of him,” which Roman wasn’t sure Creativity was capable of being, “then surely they’d- Well, behave, right? Better than terrible, rambunctious children?” His ‘nanny’ theory didn’t fit in with Patton’s perspective, neither did the ‘trio of friends’ one.

Patton shrugged, finally moving his hand from Logan’s mouth. “I don’t know, Prince, I’m sorry. Maybe he likes them? Maybe it’s different with the fae. But he- He mentioned the reason he’s here, right? He’s here for a vacation! And, um, it doesn’t feel like the other two are here for a vacation.” Logan looked at Patton with wonder. “You’re… Right.” He sounded shocked, which was a bit rude in Roman’s opinion. Patton was right about many things! “You have a lot of… Good points.”

“You could sound less incredulous, Logic.” Roman defended his friend.

To his credit, Logan startled then turned to look at Patton. “Oh, I- I apologize, Patton, I was- I was thinking of the implications…” His gaze turned distant, the gears clearly turning in his mind. “It’s possible he simply possesses their Names…” Yet that possibility didn’t seem to satisfy Roman’s intellectually brilliant friend. “Prince, they said they’d come to you on the morrow. Please come retrieve me from the library before you leave the castle.” “Logic!” Patton scolded, sounding outraged. “Are you planning on researching all night?” “Yes.” A curt reply from Logan, leaving no room for debate. “Sleep is important!” Patton didn’t let the curtness stop him. “Your health-” “Will not suffer long term consequences from a single night of research into our incredibly dangerous guests.” Logan sighed, looking tiredly at Patton. “I appreciate your concern, Morality. Please respect my decision.”

Patton deflated, looking away. “Alright, but I’ll be making sure you sleep after that, mister! And Prince- Well, make sure you sleep, okay? It’ll make me feel better knowing one of my kids is in bed.” Roman smiled the most reassuring smile he was capable of. “Oh, believe me, I am eager for rest. You’ll have no complaints from me.” The prince shot a firm look at Logan. “And I’ll help you drag this one away from his books tomorrow, if I must.”

LINE BREAK (Virgil’s POV)

Virgil exhaled slowly, pulling his drifting consciousness back from his trance-like rest. The rooms designated for diplomats had been a tad dusty indeed, but that hadn’t mattered. The fae prince had simply drawn on the Royal power within his veins, and the minor mess had politely sorted itself out. It was as both his Mothers had told him, unintentionally echoing one another: reality listened to Royal Fae, altering itself according to their will and whims. It was why the entire world felt it every time the power struggle momentarily swung in favour of Winter over Summer, or vice versa. It was why it was so easy for Virgil to rewrite Dearheart’s biological origins, to change which man had fathered her.

…It was why Deceit was so terrified of him. No, that wasn’t entirely true, it was but a single reason out of many. However frightened his Unseelie companion was of Virgil, Deceit’s fear of Virgil’s Unseelie Mother was at least tenfold that. Even as Virgil readied himself for the beginning of a new day, he was aware of Deceit watching him. Sometimes, Virgil wondered what the Winter fae saw. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. What unpleasant, dour musings to start the morning with.

“Hey, Anxiety, look at me!” Creativity demanded, literally hurling himself at his prince. Virgil, for his part, neatly sidestepped the overactive Summer fae. He did oblige in looking at the fast moving projectile known as Creativity and- “Oh.” Virgil tilted his head to the side, too curious to stay silent. “Why are you dressed like Prince?” The white, red and gold wasn’t Creativity’s usual style, nor was the fae normally the type to copy another’s look, despite his origins. He was generally too ‘creative’ for that, which meant this had to be some sort of mischief.

“For mischief, of course!” Creativity immediately confirmed Virgil’s suspicions, “I just think it will be funny if people start thinking Mostly-Lame Human Prince has a twin! Or, even better, if they think I’m him, and that he secretly likes licking doorknobs!” Virgil considered that reasoning for a moment.

“...I do not believe humans are capable of instantaneously growing such a moustache. If you wish to be mistaken for him-” Virgil was interrupted by the only non-Royal fae daring enough to do so.

“Not my moustache!” Creativity protectively covered it with his hands, as if Virgil were about to lunge and tear it off with his bare hands. “I would never willingly cut it off!” Given the things Virgil knew from experience that Creativity was willing to cut off…

The fae prince turned to Deceit instead. If he didn’t acknowledge Creativity’s nonsense, maybe it would peter out on its own. Deceit was dressed in his usual garb and looked a bit scandalized. Still unused to Creativity’s antics, it seemed. “I am glad you are not dressed as Logic nor Morality.”

The Unseelie fae seemed pleased at the compliment. “Yes… I imagine my eye and scales would give the game away rather swiftly. Not that I considered such an act in the first place.” Virgil nodded. Deceit looked unlike any mortal Virgil had seen.

Light began to trickle into the room. Virgil let out a hum of consideration, looking out the window at the slowly rising sun. “It’s morning,” he murmured. “We should go to Prince.” Virgil was looking forward to it, which was a bit unexpected but not unwelcome. He had genuine hope that the day would be mostly pleasant. Visiting bakeries run by mortals… The fae prince focused, thinking of Prince and willing the physical distance between to reduce. For Virgil and his companions’ locations to shift, change, as if they’d been there all along-

Virgil had heard that with age came experience. The instant he registered the mattress he was laying on and the body next to him, Virgil had a mortifying epiphany. This had been the first time he’d twisted reality to move to a person, instead of to be at a place- Virgil leapt off Prince’s bed, landing silently on the ground with instinctive grace as the human bolted upright.

“Have at thee, assassins!” Prince brandished his sword at them, presumably from beneath his pillow. Virgil hadn’t been paying attention. The mortal’s voice was rough with sleep but undaunted. “I will- You- Your eyes glow?” Fae eyes did glow, particularly royal ones, and given how embarrassed Virgil was in the moment the entire room was lit with soft purple light-

Creativity fell over, cackling. The sound was loud and grating, particularly since Virgil knew he was the one being laughed at. Thankfully, Deceit regained his bearings first. “It is humorous that it took so long for the mortal to notice such an obvious physical feature.” While unable to directly lie, the Winter fae’s careful wording suggested that the reason for Creativity’s hysterical laughter was Prince’s befuddlement. “And mistaking us for assassins? As if we care enough about mortal politics to directly assassinate the likes of you.” The deriding disdain was absolutely perfect, as it kept Prince’s attention off of Virgil.

The human blinked rapidly, lowering his sword and rubbing his eyes with his free hand. He shot Deceit a frustrated look before glancing down at his bed where Virgil had briefly layed. “Was- Was there someone on my bed?” Virgil didn’t move. Still as a statue, he contemplated disappearing and touring around a different kingdom.

Deceit rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. “Why yes, Prince! I would certainly consider yourself as being on -or in- your bed. I would even go as far to consider you as a ‘someone’, as it's a rather low bar.” Virgil had never been more grateful for his Unseelie companion’s deceitful guile. Prince seemed flustered and bewildered, his still-waking mind doubtlessly making it harder to see through the fae’s verbal tricks. Things were quiet for a moment.

Wait, quiet? Virgil turned to look at Creativity, who had stopped cackling and had a contemplative, mischievous look in his bright green eyes. No, no, no. Absolutely not. “Not a word, Creativity.” Virgil ordered, his voice echoing through the room like thunder- And drawing Prince’s attention to him.

“What has you so furious with him?” Prince asked, despite the slight wariness in his expression. “I understand he is deliberately irrita-” Virgil saw the moment Prince registered Creativity’s outfit. Suddenly, the mortal looked exhausted. “Is he pretending to be me?” Perfect. A change in topic.

“Creativity is dressed like you for the purpose of mischief.” Virgil confirmed, before looking pointedly at said chaotic Summer fae. “He enjoys irritating people.” Creativity, to his lack of credit, shrugged unapologetically. Certainly, the only thing keeping him from quipping in response to Virgil’s rebuke was the order that he not speak.

Instead, it was Deceit who spoke next. “Shall we await the human prince outside, given his… State of undress.” The Winter fae cast a judgemental glance at Prince’s sleepwear. There was nothing wrong with it in Virgil’s opinion, beyond the fact that it wasn’t suitable for wandering around in public. He supposed the way it exposed some of Prince’s chest could be viewed as indecent. Truthfully, the longer Virgil stared at it, the more indecent it felt. And to think! Just a few moments ago he had been lying in that same bed- The room was getting brighter. Virgil hurriedly looked away, hoping the glow from his eyes hadn’t broadcasted to everyone what he’d been staring at. Unfortunately, Virgil made the mistake of looking in Creativity’s direction. “You will never speak of this event.” Virgil ordered, certain Creativity would do so if not explicitly forbidden. Though Virgil’s orders held no weight compared to the authority a Fae Queen held over Her Court, by the time Creativity spoke to Virgil’s Seelie Mother next, none of this would matter. It was… A shame. Sad. From what Virgil had seen of the mortals so far, they did not deserve what was coming. Virgil commiserated. No one deserved the strife that loomed ever-closer over the horizon. He sighed, looking tiredly at Deceit. “I trust your discretion.” No order would be necessary for his Unseelie companion.

Deceit nodded, looking pleased. A spark of hope in both his eyes. “I will endeavour to live up to your expectations of me.” Good. Wonderful. Why did Virgil feel so hollow?

Prince, for his part, simply looked confused. “Um… This event being you three appearing in my bedroom?” He then shot Deceit an offended look. “And don’t sneer at me for being underdressed whilst sleeping in my own bed! This is what sleepwear is for!”

“I agree.” Virgil spoke before anyone else could. “Sleepwear is for sleeping, you were clearly unprepared for our arrival, we shall await you outside your door so you may-” Hopefully the bright purple glow of his eyes camouflaged the flush on his cheeks. “-dress. Without us. Being present.” With that, the fae prince willed them out of the room, reappearing in the hallway. Was this what embarrassment felt like? The indignity of making a mistake, and scrambling to cover up one’s failure? He had only accidentally transported himself closer to Prince then intended, surely there was no reason to be this flustered about it. Prince hadn’t even noticed! At the very least, Prince had been convinced that nothing happened.

Creativity inserted himself into Virgil’s view, pouting at him. Still entirely as unapologetic as ever, yet daring to wordlessly plea for an end to his silence. Virgil let out a heavy sigh. “You may speak,” he allowed, “but you shall never speak of this morning’s events. Not a single one of them.”

“I CAN SAY WORDS!” Creativity gleefully shouted, doubtlessly waking others in the castle. Virgil couldn’t bring himself to care. It was only fair that they, too, suffered through Creativity’s antics. Well… Perhaps the prince ought to reign in his subordinate, but it was too late to undo his shout. Instead, Virgil chose to punish him by changing the colour scheme of his outfit. The white fabric turned black, and accents a toxic green. He could do more, was well within his rights to punish Creativity further- But Virgil couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Creativity gasped in betrayed outrage nonetheless, before shrugging it off like nothing had happened. Unbothered as ever. It was a little frustrating. It was strangely endearing. It was maddening.

“So can I!” Came a cheerful -only slightly quieter- response, as Morality hurried over to them. “Hiya, Anxiety, Creativity and Deceit! I figured you might’ve intended to go at sunrise! And you said you’d find Ro- Royal Prince, our Royal Prince, Crown Prince, or as you call him now: ‘Prince’.” Virgil blinked, attempting to process that before deciding it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Greetings, Morality.” He said instead, rather than asking the origin of ‘hiya’, or why the mortal referred to Prince in such an unnecessarily verbose way. The bright smile he got in response to the short greeting was almost unsettling. Thankfully, Creativity exclaimed once again. “Morality! You shouted while people were still sleeping!” The fae sounded a mix of delighted and accusatory. “You’re my new favourite human! If I end up killing you later, I’ll make it quick! Unless I’ve got orders not to. The Seelie Queen’s Will is Absolute, all must obey, and all that. You know how it is!” Something seemed to occur to Creativity. “Or maybe you don’t know how it is. Oh well. It’s too boring to explain.”

“It is the Unseelie Queen’s Will to which the world will bend.” Deceit refuted Creativity’s claim. Virgil could hardly blame him. To stay silent upon hearing such ‘heresy’, as it were, would be to invoke the wrath of one’s Queen. That didn’t make listening to the arguments the two were obligated to have on pain of a fate worse than death any more pleasant to listen to. He opened his mouth to interrupt- “I am dressed!” Prince loudly announced, opening the door to his room and striding out into the hallway. His words were true. The human prince was dressed in a manner befitting high status, clothes unwrinkled, gold accents present, and the white fabric in his attire unblemished. His chest was fully covered, something Virgil unwillingly noticed. He looked away, focusing on the world around him. The finite mortal lives flickering nearby. Logic was… Hm. Moments away from dozing off in a library, surrounded by stacks of books.

“The five of us are enough.” They could leave Logic to his rest. “You spoke of bakeries, yes, Morality? Let us visit them.” Virgil surely possessed enough precious gems to purchase whatever pastries they desired. His Mothers had always strived to one-up each other in Their generosity, and the members of Their Courts hurried to follow suit.

…That was how the final Summer of the Summer-Winter Truce passed. A season of fae bickering, touring the kingdom, tasting treats and seeing sights. Accompanied by either Morality or Logic, but always Prince. The love all three humans felt for their kingdom was obvious to Virgil. For a short while, he allowed himself to be swept away by it, to live as if it wasn’t all about to end.

(Art by @briandthemoon)