Melt
AN: At least you can count on me to be consistent. Here's the kind of adorable stuff that would have happened if Molly hadn't croaked in Apple Tree. Written for Accidentally the Whole Fanfic's Snowman Solstice prompt, because now that it is 80 degrees outside I have deemed it appropriate to write a winter-themed story. Animal Parade, Molly/Ignis.
"Oh, hell."
Molly scowled over the edge of her cup of coffee as she peeled the curtains back from her window. Still in her fleece pajamas, tousled brown hair a cloud of tangles around her face, she put a calloused hand on her hip and heaved a sigh.
"What's wrong?" A small voice asked from behind her. Upon the kitchen table sat a tiny fairy, about the size of the powdered doughnut hole that he was dipping in a small saucer of milk. His body glowed like a flame, warm and friendly, and his eyes were bright. He looked like he'd gotten enough sleep that night. Molly did not.
The farmer turned her head over her shoulder. "See for yourself," she said to the harvest sprite, holding the curtain away from the glass. "I should'a watched the weather report last night," she mumbled to herself. "Serves me right for trying to go to bed early."
"Snow!" The sprite leapt from the table and flew to get a better view of the white blanket that had spread over the sloping fields of their farm overnight. The chicken coop and the barn looked like gingerbread houses with iced roofs, and the bare trees in the orchard balanced tiny walls of white on their branches. The sun hadn't quite risen yet, although the eastern sky was brightening by the minute, so the snow still held the silver tint of moonlight. "It's all so pretty! I love it when Lady Sephia makes it snow."
Molly sighed. "Yeah, I bet you do. We had work to do today, Finn." She looked forlornly over at the burlap sack overflowing with buckwheat seeds leaning against her dresser. "She doesn't seem to be on our side lately. These things needed to get in the ground yesterday."
"It was too cold to break the ground yesterday," Finn argued, flitting back to the table and tearing off another fluffy piece of the doughnut hole. "Besides, it's the beginning of the season. We've got plenty of time to catch up."
"Tell that to everyone in Harmonica Town when they come to me at the end of the month looking for soba flour and I'm one harvest short."
Finn looked up at her with his liquid black eyes, and her heart squeezed. Dammit, why does he have to be so adorable? "Maybe Lady Sephia is trying to tell you something, Molly. Maybe she wants you to take a break. Maybe she doesn't want you to work your only harvest sprite to death trying to plant seeds every day in winter."
"I see you're as incapable of guile as ever," Molly said flatly, but she was smiling as she plopped down in the kitchen chair. "Now, the real issue is how in the world do you think you're going to fit that entire thing in your tiny stomach?" she asked suddenly, taking the pastry from him and tearing it in half. She laughed at his protestations as she popped one half in her mouth, letting him steal back the other. "What do you propose we do then, pom-pom head?"
"That was my breakfast!" Finn wailed.
"And you shared it with me because you're my friend."
"You took it!"
"All right, all right!" The little fairy's antics never failed to put her in a good mood. "Here, jeez. Want to dip your half in my coffee?" She held out her nearly-full cup.
Molly almost never let Finn drink coffee. Whenever he'd asked, she told him that it was an adult's drink and that he wouldn't like it. Naturally, that made him want it more. She generally refused his requests because she wasn't exactly sure she'd know how to handle a Finn who was hopped up on caffeine. He'd gotten into it once before and hadn't stopped brushing the sheep for an hour.
Finn lit up like a lightbulb. She knew he'd come around. She smiled down at him as he saturated his doughnut with coffee until it almost dissolved. This must be what having a kid is like.
"You haven't answered my question," she reminded him as he was finishing his last bites.
"Play outside with me," Finn said immediately. Molly winced.
"Play?" she asked, suddenly feeling her old aches and pains start up again—her back, her knees, her hips. Her poor night's sleep was threatening to overcome the coffee she had already drunk. "Come on, little man, I'm not young anymore."
"You're not even thirty yet," Finn pointed out.
"Yeah, but I'm a farmer. I age faster than normal people," she said. She was about to say why don't you go play outside by yourself and let me get some sleep, but at that moment her eyes happened to fall on her left ring finger and the piece of jewelry around it. The crimson gem set in the golden band flashed up at her, friendly as the fire in a hearth. Hers was a unique wedding ring. She rolled it between her middle and ring fingers, thinking. Her lips curved. "Actually," she said slowly, "that's a great idea, buddy."
"It is?" Finn asked as she stood up and walked over to her bed. She hardly ever changed her mind about anything, especially when she'd made up her mind to get work done that day. He watched her flip through the planner on her bedside table until she found a blank page and scribbled a quick note on it, chuckling quietly. Finn tried to peek over her shoulder to read it, but she ripped it out and folded it too quickly. He thought he heard her mumble something about "never know what hit him", but all of a sudden she was waving the square note in his face.
"Can you take this to the Harvest King?" she asked. "The sooner the better. And tell him not to drag his feet."
Finn accepted the note and hugged it tightly to his chest. His expression, however, was concerned. "Don't you want to go up there and see him yourself? You didn't go yesterday."
"No time," Molly said, shoving her feet into her well-insulated boots. "Besides," she continued, pulling her wool hat over her ears and grinning deviously, "I've got a battle to plan."
Come to the farm as soon as you can.
No peeking.
Love, M
The Lord of the Harvest stared down at the tiny scrap of crumpled paper he held, which fluttered in the waves of heat emanating from the divine fire that guarded his body. The sprite that had delivered the missive hovered trembling in front of him, just outside the reach of the flames. He was easily the most terrifying person Finn had ever met. Everything about him, from his bearing to his stature to his disposition, commanded strict obedience and respect. It was so much easier to spend time with Lady Sephia. Ignis was all fire and scowling.
The deity's eyes ran over Molly's rushed penmanship again. No peeking? He knew what she meant, of course. Even if his throne wasn't at the very peak of perpetually snow-capped Mount Garmon, he would still be able to turn his gaze anywhere in Castanet and see everything living and growing in the land. If he chose, he could look down and watch Molly as she prepared whatever surprise she had in store for him this time. But she had asked him not to, so he wouldn't. His lips pressed together. He still found himself wondering at the turn that his life had taken after she'd called him down from the heavens.
"Is she in trouble?" he asked Finn, handing the paper back to him.
Finn shook his head. "I don't know what she's up to, Lord Ignis," he admitted. "She said she wanted you to hurry."
Time had little meaning for the Harvest King, and if it had been a request from anyone else he would have bristled with ire at being called for like a dog, but she was the Farmer, after all, and she enjoyed the special privilege of being able to hold some sway over him, much to his mild chagrin.
He glanced down at the golden ring on his left hand. It was the simplest piece of jewelry he wore. It was also the heaviest.
"I suppose I shall accompany you back to the farm," he said.
Finn blanched. "O-of course, Lord Ignis," he stammered as the flames swirling around Ignis suddenly engulfed his form entirely. When the next gust of wind blew them out, both the fairy and the deity were gone.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the treetops, and the new light showed that the once pristine covering of snow on Molly's farm had been trampled, as if a crowd had come and gone in the time that it had taken Finn to bring Molly's message to the Harvest King. When he saw this, Finn's face fell. He loved being the first to put his tiny footprints in a fresh fall of snow. The animals didn't care about messing up something as pretty as an unspoiled blanket of sparkling snow—although, looking closer, he noticed that there was just one set of prints that obviously belonged to Molly's thick-soled winter boots. On top of that, there were three or four low rectangular walls hastily built out of snow that had popped up in the pasture. Finn went to examine one while Ignis knocked on the farmhouse's front door.
"What is this?" Finn wondered aloud, landing on one and walking along the top. The snow chilled his feet and he giggled. He performed a quick cartwheel and, seeing that one side of the wall wasn't nearly as steep as the other, flipped onto his belly and slid all the way down to the exposed grass below. His laughter sounded like tiny bells.
It was then that he noticed the pile of snowballs.
Realization hit him like the rush of caffeine he had gotten earlier from Molly's coffee. Gasping, he scrambled back to the top of the wall. Ignis was just coming out of the dark farmhouse, his crimson eyebrows drawn together in ire.
"I'm not sure I understand the reason for her summons," he said curtly, seeing Finn's glow atop the snow wall, "if she is not here to receive me."
Finn saw movement in the orchard behind him. "Harvest King," he squealed, "look out!"
It was too late. A white projectile, fat and round as a grapefruit, came sailing through the air towards the back of Ignis's head. The god half-turned, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the incoming missile. Before he could act, however, the snowball started to shrink in midair, dissolving as it drew closer to Ignis's body and the flames that surrounded him. By the time it landed square in the center of his chest, it was merely a blob of slush that trickled down his pectoral muscles. He looked down at it and grimaced.
"Finn!" Molly's exasperated voice echoed from somewhere in the orchard. She must have been hiding behind one of the tree trunks. "You're not supposed to warn him!"
Finn leapt into the air, dismayed. "Molly, you can't just throw things at Lord Ignis!" he wailed.
"Well, if he wants me to stop, he'll just have to defend himself," she said slyly. Another snowball launched out of the trees, but this one fell apart a few feet short of Ignis's body. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk.
"Oh, come on, Ignis, turn your fire off!"
Ignis looked peeved. "I don't run on electricity," he said, stepping out of the way of another snowball as it came sailing towards his head. "It doesn't turn off."
"You know what I mean. You can't cheat like that. It takes the fun out of everything." They heard her boots crunching through the snow, trying to find a clearer shot while still safe in the orchard.
He began moving too, following the noise she was making. The snow melted around his bare feet with each step he took. "Far be it from me to impede your vapid pursuit of fun."
"Don't blame me," Molly said. "It was Finn's idea to play in the snow. And besides," she continued, stepping out into the open for the first time, "you have your sister to thank for this weather. Why not make the most of it?"
She had obviously come prepared for war. She still wore her flannel pajama bottoms, but she had tucked them securely into her boots. Her upper body was bundled in a goosedown jacket and scarf, and she clutched another snowball in mittened hands. Her nose and cheeks were pink.
"This is what you called me down from the mountain for?" he asked dryly.
"Don't tell me you're too high and mighty to engage in a little friendly roughhousing," she teased, her eyes sparkling.
It wasn't her goading that convinced him. It was the fact that she attempted it at all. He commanded respect and received it from everyone. Except her.
She gave him something different.
Gifts of apples and shining grapes. Quiet visits to the King's Seat. Hours of talking about everything and nothing, her voice chasing away the solitude that had gathered around his throne like cobwebs in a corner. He knew that he had lost something when he had become the Harvest King, but hadn't realized quite what it was until he had met Molly. She was his reminder of everything he used to be, why he had abandoned mortality, why Castanet was so dear to him. It seemed as if he had always known how to be a god, but with her help, he was slowly relearning what it meant to be a farmer.
And apparently this was something that farmers did, too.
His ruby eyes tracked her as she edged towards the bridge that spanned the small creek separating the orchard from the open pasture. He saw that she feared retaliation and was going to try to make a break for the farmhouse. She'd never make it; he'd easily be able to intercept her in only a few strides. He told her as much.
"I'm not so sure. It's probably not very easy to run around in a skirt."
He glanced down at his white and crimson ceremonial robes. "A necessary encumbrance," he said.
"Lucky for me," she said, and suddenly she was running. He reached for her, but she dove at the last second, sliding past him on her side, cocking her arm and lobbing a snowball directly towards his face. He flinched, and she took the opportunity to leap to her feet and dash behind the farmhouse.
"And no doing that warp-y thing you do with the fire, either!" she laughed over her shoulder.
"I will have no need of that," Ignis said smoothly. "I can catch you easily enough."
So saying, he buried his large hands in the snow that hadn't yet melted at his feet and began to pack a huge armful of it into a circular shape. Molly shrieked and took off running again.
With the aid of a few brushes of flame, Ignis formed the snow into a perfect sphere that Molly would have needed a wheelbarrow to move. Hoisting it in one hand, he followed Molly's tracks around the back of the house, finally spotting her hiding behind the water tower's wooden legs. She dropped the snowball that she had been aiming at him.
"You can't be serious!" she gawked.
Ignis lifted his arm a little higher, finally beginning to catch the spirit of the game. "I'd run if I were you."
She obeyed, almost tripping over her heavy boots. Hearing his footsteps stop behind her only told her that he was preparing to let fly. She flung herself behind one of her snow walls just as the snowball left Ignis's fingertips, swearing that she heard a little sonic boom as it did so.
"Run!" Finn called from a safe position in a nearby tree. "It's coming right towards you!"
Too late. The snowball landed directly on her wall, obliterating it. She was left with an ankle-high pile of powder and only half of the snowballs she had stored there. She staggered to her feet, a little dazed. Well, it's too early for a last stand, but I have to hold him off somehow.
So thinking, she started lobbing her tiny snowballs at the approaching god. She silently gloated as a few of them found their mark, but they weren't enough to deter him. He obviously didn't understand that half the fun of a snowball fight was hiding from your assailant.
"You know," she panted, "you can surrender any time you want."
"I don't think that will be any time soon," he said, and stepped over the remains of her wall as easily as avoiding a pebble in the road. She fled to the middle of the pasture, where yet another cache of snowballs awaited her. She was almost there when a second snowball smashed into her back, sending her sprawling face-down in the snow.
"Molly!" Finn gasped.
It's just like that time when Abriel kicked me, she thought, pushing herself out of the snowdrift and blinking away stars.
"Are you sure you want to keep playing with fire like this, little girl?" Ignis asked from behind her. He sounded vaguely concerned.
"Technically we're playing with snow, Lord Ignis," she said, gritting her teeth. "And I'm just getting started!"
She came up with a snowball in each hand. One hit his shoulder, and the other grazed his ear. The near-miss had her crowing as she hightailed it towards her next fort—a three-walled structure that even he'd have a hard time knocking over—but before she could reach it, a flare of heat erupted over her shoulder. Something hot and bright sailed overhead and landed directly on her fort. The whole thing—and the snowballs she had stored behind it—melted in seconds.
After she watched her carefully constructed fort dissolve before her eyes, turned slowly back towards the Harvest King. "I didn't know you could throw your fire."
"It is not something I advertise."
"You melted my last bastion."
"I sincerely apologize." He didn't sound sorry at all.
They circled each other around the pasture, each watching the other carefully. Molly allowed herself a second to marvel at the idea of the whole situation. Ignis, so poised, so graceful, so utterly unmoved by the world around him, was playing with her.
She knew, of course, he wasn't playing for the sake of having fun. He was mimicking her—all powerful and all knowing being that he was—in order to call up memories of the time before he had been a god—if indeed there had ever been such a time. She got the idea that he thought in order to be a good husband, he had to be mortal.
But you don't, she thought. You just need to remember that you love one.
She knew he was not human. She knew that she had tied herself to a soul of fire, an indestructible form that would live through the ages after she died. Someone—something—like that would not love her in the usual manner of husbands. There would be no flowers, no dates. No cuddling under the blankets on cold mornings or holding hands as they strolled through town. This knowledge hadn't stopped her one year ago when she had held the blue feather out to him.
Sometimes, when she brought his daily gift up to the King's Seat, he looked at her with eyes that had seen a thousand ages, and she knew he didn't remember that she was his. Hardly able to blame him, she sought other avenues for his attention. Her usual tactics involved the farm. Convinced that he had earned the title Harvest King for a reason, she enlisted him for a multitude of chores—weeding fields, planting crops, milking cows. He thought the menial tasks helped him reconnect with the land. She knew better, though. All the menial tasks helped him reconnect with her.
At this point in their budding marriage, she couldn't expect him to remember to love her. She had no problem with reminding him.
Ah, well, she thought as she locked eyes with her divine other half. He'll realize sooner or later. I've got plenty of time to make him see.
"You do realize that this means I'm not bringing you any apples tonight," she finally said.
"I had considered the possibility." He was already forming another snowball. She would have to strike now if she wanted any chance of surviving until the afternoon.
Molly's final assault didn't last very long. Having long run out of accessible snowballs, she began scooping handfuls out of the snow as she ran around the pasture and formed them into lopsided lumps, laughing until her sides ached. Ignis, being a much better aim and more adept snowball-shaper, merely shrugged off her attacks, ducking out of the way of some and melting the rest. She took one right in the stomach that knocked the wind out of her lungs, and she finally sat down heavily in the snow. Her pajamas were soaked through and one of her mittens was missing. The pasture was a warzone. Ignis had left a trail of exposed grass behind him wherever he had gone, and the rest of the snow lay in lumpy heaps.
Finn fluttered down to her. "That looked pretty brutal," he said. "You okay? I would've liked to help, but I was scared I'd get hit."
Molly nodded, still laughing. Ignis walked up to them, looking for all the world like a king approaching his groveling subjects. His crimson braid was wet with melted snow.
"You win," Molly panted, holding up her hands. Her fingertips were numb. "I give up."
She expected him to gloat, but he merely said, "You will catch a cold if you remain sitting in the snow in those pants."
He held out one of his hands to her, and she grabbed it. Warmth flooded her through her skin. "They were warm," she argued, looking down at the pink flannel. "Until you saw fit to destroy me."
"You initiated this."
"Yeah. I said snowball fight, not snowbomb fight." She smiled and entwined her fingers with his. "That was pretty fun, though."
He glanced down at their hands. There we go, she thought joyfully. He's coming back to me. Lightly squeezing his fingers, she looked up at him and said, "Thanks for playing, Ignis."
After a moment, he looked away. "You're welcome." His voice was soft.
The three of them gazed out over the farm. The sun was up and the world was waking. One of the cows mooed within the barn. It was a warm, contented sound that filled Molly's heart with peace, but also reminded her of the chores that had yet to be done.
"Well," she said slowly, "now that some of this land is cleared, do you want to get started on that planting, Finn?"
"What?" Finn cried. "But you said you'd play outside today!"
"What do you think that whole thing with the snow bombs was?" Molly asked incredulously.
"But you didn't play with me!"
Molly sighed. The little sprite did have a point, but she wasn't sure the Harvest King could endure one more session of frivolity. When she looked at him, though, his heart was still here, his eyes fixed on her, and even now his fingers tightened around her hand. She felt the coolness of the ring he wore as it pressed into her skin, and she smiled.
"Harvest King, may I humbly request your assistance on the farm today?" she asked sweetly, hearing Finn whimper above her.
"I am yours for as long as you wish to have me," Ignis returned evenly. She knew he didn't mean it as romantically as it had sounded, but her heart fluttered all the same.
Always, she thought. Always and always.
"All right, you two," she said, edging closer to Ignis and holding out her free hand for Finn to land on. "Have either of you ever built an igloo before?"