Part 2
Dreams of the moon growing like a pirate ship floating on the water, of stars shrinking into dewdrops, of blades of grass rising as tall as a forest... Robbie lingered in strange illusions and visions, watching an imaginary world fill the air, and if he paid just enough attention, he could piece together how they worked, how their magic and gears and internal parts fit. Like a spider's web, he saw how every strand twisted and knotted together—
Saw a huge goblin hand claw through the web toward his face.
He sat upright, gasping, hands up against the goblin...that wasn't there. After several seconds and with nothing scratching at his eyes, he slowly lowered his hands, finding himself in a bed as wide as it was long, plush with a dozen pillows behind him. Sunlight poured across the blanket, and through the window he saw blue skies and white clouds that rolled and stretched across the sun. Birds sang in the branches swaying against the windowsill, and the breeze—he breathed in with a deep sigh.
Summer. Real summer.
The room around him was made of wood, polished but naturally curved and knotted, and ended with leafy vines and flowers. The window held no glass, only a shimmer to show the magic holding out inclement weather. And the rug was moss, thick moss fed by the spray of water trickling from the window into a small pool that likewise trickled out again at the door. A fey home.
Hushed voices murmured from the other room, indistinct and low.
Robbie gathered the blanket up against himself, noticing now that he'd been undressed. And he didn't hear Sportacus. Where was he? Had he been caught again?
No...he shook his head once, slowly. No, this didn't feel like a trap. The air felt real, not that fake and bent world of Lazytown. In confusion, he ran his hand through his hair.
He stopped. Afraid he'd imagined that, he ran his hand through his hair again. And gave a tiny, startled laugh when he felt how soft it was, how it spread between his fingers like anyone else's.
At his laugh, the voices stopped. Quick steps came and threw open the door.
"He's awake!" The dark haired man, wearing a dark one-piece that covered him to his neck, laughed and dove across the bed, catching Robbie up in his arms. "Oh, you're awake, you're awake, you're finally awake!"
"Don't smother him," called someone from the kitchen, coming more slowly. "He's probably confused."
"Are you confused?" the man asked, leaning back to stare in Robbie's eyes. "You must be—it's all been such a shock for you. Oh, you're finally awake!"
Suffering another hug, Robbie put his arms around him, then held him in return. The feel of his body was familiar, strong and lean and a scent of grass after a storm—
"Glanni," he whispered. "I know you."
With a delighted gasp, his cousin sat back and called over his shoulder. "He remembers! He remembers me!"
"Quit yelling, I'm right here."
In gold and brown hues, a stranger walked in, his floppy hat doing nothing to hide the outline of his ear's elfin tips. He looked so much like Sportacus that Robbie blinked and rubbed his eyes.
"Are you...?" Robbie started.
"No, I just look a lot like my brother," the man said. "He'll be back soon. I'm Iþrottaalfurinn. But you can just call me Ithrot."
"He's an elf," Glanni said. "I mean, he's one of those elves with the funny little crystals. Now Robbie, do you remember what happened to you?"
"I remember walking down the road with Sportacus and the pink—I mean, the queen. We were running away from that...thing."
"That 'thing'," Iþrottaalfurinn said, "was Besyrwan, a nasty goblin brood queen. She had you and Queen Stephania hostage for years. We only just now had the chance to bring you two out."
"You mean in Lazytown," Robbie said. "Then...was any of that real?"
"The children are real," Iþrottaalfurinn said, "but they're goblins, too. The rest of it was a spell, stealing your magic so she could light her cave and make it seem like a little town."
"That's why you're so exhausted," Glanni said, running his thumb under Robbie's eyes. "Shadows like charcoal smudges. And your silk...it's so weak. You need to rest and get better."
"My...silk?" Robbie brought his hand up and winced as a little silk gathered in his palm.
"See?" Glanni said. "It's so threadbare. Sportacus said you didn't ever get much sleep."
"Where is Sportacus?" Robbie asked. "And the...well, I guess the queen is back in her palace. But Sportacus—"
"My brother is still at the palace," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "He's needed there. Besyrwan broke several crimes and treaties, and your queen will want reparations and punishment. She also needs rest, even if she wasn't hurt as badly as you were."
"I was hurt?" Robbie asked.
"You certainly didn't sleep well," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "But more than that. You were her prisoner for so long, Sportacus said her magic had begun to warp you. He says we didn't see the worst of it—that it vanished as soon as you fell back into the summer lands, but you had started to change physically. It will take time for you to fully heal."
At Robbie's fallen look, Iþrottaalfurinn smiled and put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing once.
"Don't worry, you're safe here, and we're not going anywhere. And my brother said he'll be coming by soon, once we send word that you're awake again."
"Oh, good," Robbie said, accepting Glanni's hug again. "Um...I don't really remember this place, though."
"Ah!" Glanni sat straight, turned to Iþrottaalfurinn, then smiled self-consciously and put his hands in his lap. "Well, I suppose...I mean, you wouldn't have known, since we didn't see each other for awhile...and I guess it isn't a secret, but...well, I mean, even though he's an elf and I'm..."
"This tree is our home," Iþrottaalfurinn said, putting emphasis on 'our'. "I also brought your cousin out of the goblin caves ages ago, but when we got back, I found out too late that she'd stolen you as well. I've been taking care of Glanni ever since."
"Who's taking care of who?" Glanni snapped.
"Well, maybe if you'd explain faster," Iþrottaalfurinn said, "then you'd get to tell it your way."
A small laugh escaped Robbie, who tried to hide behind his hand when Glanni glared at him. But his laughter wouldn't stop bubbling out of him, and he grabbed Glanni into his own hug, feeling more comfortable and at ease than he remembered in a long, long time.
Days passed. Then a week, two weeks, three. It wouldn't have bothered Robbie so much if they hadn't told him that Sportacus had promised to visit. A paper airplane came, addressed to all three of them, apologizing and saying there were serious discussions going on in the court that the queen demanded he attend, and that Sportacus would come as soon as he could.
Robbie didn't notice much of the time passing by, spending most of his days asleep. Glanni brought him cupcakes and tea cakes and lemonade and other sweet things, ignoring how Iþrottaalfurinn insisted that he needed sportscandy instead. On the rare times that Robbie woke up with an apple or broccoli on the pillow beside him, that apple and broccoli wound up flying out the window.
His reflection took time to grow used to. His face had lost some of the plasticity it had absorbed from the goblin queen's lair. He'd touch his face and grasp at the empty space where skin and bone used to be, the jutting chin, the too prominent cheek bones. Sometimes his whole body felt like one open wound, and he would study himself in the mirror, trying to get used to what had once been so familiar.
Finally he remembered how to make his own clothing, spinning silk in different colors and patterns. He had to change several times before Glanni approved, saying that long stripes were no longer in fashion and that the seams and lining could be orange, but the rest of it had best be done in shades of purple. And that the vest could stay but that the pants had to be a proper length at his waist—and don't ask where he'd put the first try, since Glanni had burnt them and swept out the ashes already.
Glanni seemed particularly anxious on the day that Robbie spun his final piece, the vest that buttoned neatly up the front. Glanni fussed and adjusted the edges of his outfit until it was just right, or rather until Robbie finally sighed and grabbed his cousin's shoulders, holding him at arm's length.
"It's fine," Robbie said through gritted teeth. "It looks good. You know I wouldn't go out looking bad."
"Because I won't let you," Glanni insisted. "And it has to be good if—"
There was a brass blare from outside, at a distance so that Robbie wasn't sure if he had heard it or not. But then Glanni gasped and half-turned, and in the kitchen, Ithro looked up over his coffee cup with wide eyes.
"They're early," Iþrottaalfurinn breathed.
"He said not until tomorrow," Glanni almost wailed.
The crunching of leaves and stones came toward their door, and Glanni gave Robbie a last look before sighing that it would have to do and hurrying him out of the bedroom, through the kitchen and out the door.
Robbie had not been outside more than twice—once to collect strawberries and blueberries with Ithrot, who had promised only to make him eat them as garnish on a chocolate cake, and once with Glanni to pelt the neighbor's pond with stones and acorns until the frogs croaked all night. At least they had thrown stones until Ithrot came out to scold them and drag them back inside before the neighbors spotted them in the tree branches.
So he wasn't startled or nervous about the swampy marsh that might have worried other fey folk. Most seelie fairies, creatures of light that didn't care much for mischief, dwelt not in bogs or moors but rather in bright forests and grassy hillsides. They kept clear of the dark stone path that dipped in and out of black waters, past thorn bushes and scraggly trees. Seelie fairies had nothing to do with gray skies and pale suns.
And yet the queen's gold and crystal carriage rolled along the marsh path, drawn by six white stags whose antlers had been dressed with bells and flowers. Other fairies rode behind in less fancy carriages, silver and brass, on horses and in palanquins, all of them grimacing at the mist and mud.
The royal carriage came to the front of their tree. Glanni and Iþrottaalfurinn both knelt, and after a moment of hesitation, Robbie sank down with them, shying away from the disdain in the court fairies' eyes.
The carriage door opened, and Stephania stepped down the little steps and onto the driest stone. She was half a head taller than Robbie remembered, and her braided hair reached past her shoulders, and he realized she must have endured awful growing pains as her body caught up with time. Her dress seemed too simple to be that of a queen's, just a longer version of her usual skirt, her seams embedded with tiny crystals and golden thread. But on her head she wore the bright crown with polished amethysts and pearls, and she ran toward them before her ministers had even dismounted.
"Robbie!"
Royalty and crowd be damned, he couldn't not respond, catching her in a hug and sweeping her up into the air.
"Let me get a look at you now," they said over each other, smiling as they stumbled over their words, studying the changes in each other.
"Your hair looks much better," she said. "And your clothes are wonderful...did you spin them yourself?"
"Glanni helped," Robbie said, nodding. "Did you—?"
He stopped. Stephania, her smile turning devious, stepped aside as Sportacus appeared at the carriage door.
"Sorry I kept him from you for so long," she said. "I know he promised to come visit sooner, but I needed him at court."
"That's...okay..." Robbie let her slip out of his hands, slowly standing as Sportacus approached.
The blue and white heroic outfit had been changed for white deer-skin armor, highlighted by blueish silver plates woven into the leather for strength. The same crystal lay embedded in his chest piece, and his floppy hat had been traded in for a leather cap tilted to one side, no longer trying to hide his elven ears.
"Robbie," Sportacus said, holding out one hand. "You look—you look amazing."
"Oh, uh..." Robbie knew he was flushing red, and he somehow managed to take Sportacus' hand. The elf drew him into a strong embrace, and Robbie felt some of his worry melt.
"Are you captain of the guard?" he asked, only half serious.
"He is now," Stephania said. "That's also part of why I came to talk to you."
She smoothed back the stray wisps of hair that had escaped her braid, and they magically slipped back into place.
"Glanni Glaepur and Iþrottaalfurinn," she started. "Please rise. I want to thank you for the kindness shown to me when I tumbled into your kitchen. I know you were preparing to receive us, but if Besarwyn had won, she could have easily reached through to grab you. Such a risk should be rewarded."
"Oh, well," Glanni laughed, shaking his head as if it were nothing. "We just wanted all of you home, safe and sound..."
His voice trailed off as a servant brought forth a little jewel-encrusted box which, when opened, positively dripped with tiny, perfect pearls. Iþrottaalfurinn put his hand on Glanni's shoulder to keep him from lunging, forcing a polite bow out of him instead.
With the gift given, Stephania returned to business. She swept her hand back at the ministers and riders behind her, the assemblage of the court riding with her as entourage and security.
"No one saw me being kidnapped," she said, "and I don't remember it at all. So I must have been asleep, and Besyrwan must have stolen me from my bed. I've had Sportacus guarding my room ever since, but he can't do that forever. I need someone who can build something better."
She faced him again. "I need a Royal Engineer, Robbie, and I want you to take the job."
Standing straight, Robbie felt chills, felt the stares—no, the disdain of the court behind her. All the fey looked over long noses and ruffles of petals and leaves, their summer finery trimmed in lace as delicate as dew. Their magnificent wings, monarch and swallowtail and mourning cloak and fritalaries, flared out in bright display. And there was Robbie, dressed in little more than homespun—worse, spun of his own thread. Behind him, Glanni had reached over and taken Ithrot's hand, holding tight, bearing up under the court's gaze, tucking his plain dragonfly wings tight behind his back.
Robbie swallowed once, about to ask Stephania if she was sure she wanted an unseelie fairy in her court. When he looked at her, however, he saw the same smile that she'd given him when he had only whispered about the boardwalk. Once again, she trusted him to be discreet.
So what if his clothing was homespun? It was still fine silk. And so what if he was unseelie? He was the only one here who had helped save the queen, aside from Sportacus of course.
"Will there be tap dancing involved?" he asked with a wink.
She laughed. "You know, that was exactly what I was thinking."
"I humbly accept," Robbie said, "my queen's gracious offer."
After that came a blur—another hug with Glanni and a promise to visit him often and write oftener, Sportacus briefly speaking with Iþrottaalfurinn, then bundling up into Stephania's carriage and the ride back to the palace. The conversation made the ride pass by even faster. No, Robbie had nothing to bring with him—everything he remembered owning was back in Besyrwan's cave. Of course he would like to hear what a Royal Engineer would do—and would he mind sitting closer to Sportacus so he could see the palace blueprints more easily?
Sure, Robbie said with a shy smile. He wouldn't mind sitting close to Sportacus at all.
They arrived at a palace of crystal and gold, its walls covered in climbing roses, bright pink and orange, with the lawns dappled in clover and wild flowers, neat streams and trees kept trimmed. It was utterly unlike the dark wilds of his cousin's home or even of his Lazytown lair, and as they walked through the palace—marveling at his reflection in the polished marble floors—Robbie wondered if he could tame his webs to the patterns the seelie court seemed to like.
"I'll leave you to settle into your chambers," Stephania said, halting at a pair of doors. "Court will convene in the evening so you may be presented, so be ready."
"Wait," Robbie said, turning to motion at the rooms around them. "Which one of these is mine?"
"Silly," she said, "they're all yours. There's the main room, a bath, a balcony, the bedroom and the study. This is just the main entrance to this part of the east wing. Let the cooks know if you want breakfast or lunch. Dinner is always in the banquet hall."
"I...oh...wow."
He didn't hear Stephania leave. Not sure what to look at first, he went to the double french doors and opened them wide, taking in the scent of roses, the sight of fairy ladies and lords walking the lawns, and beyond them, a sprawling town nestled in the branches and roots of colossal trees.
"Wow..."
"Yeah, you don't really get used to it."
Robbie spun, eyes wide.
"Sorry, sorry," Sportacus said, hands up as if to calm him. "I just...I didn't know if we'd get to talk again soon enough, and...well. There are other fairies already talking, and I didn't want to lose my chance."
"Your chance?" Robbie asked. "Aren't you going to stay here? Or—or do the elves want you somewhere else?"
"Oh, elves aren't like fairies," Sportacus said. "I don't have a queen I have to obey. I can come and go as I please, and right now, I want to help Stephania. And, um, you."
Robbie smiled. "You already have. This is... I can sleep. I can think—do you know how hard it was to think? I felt like I was in slow motion until I got used to that and it felt normal. And I look like myself for the first time in years."
Sportacus came closer, joining him at the balcony, leaning on the frame next to Robbie.
"Yes, you are looking quite well," he said, softer now. "You're a...spider fae?"
Robbie blushed. Worse, he knew he was blushing and put a hand in front of his face.
"Argh, I'm sorry," Sportacus said, wincing as he stepped onto a sensitive minefield. "I didn't mean to...is that something no one brings up? I asked for a tutor, but she's not really very helpful with the etiquette."
"You don't..." Robbie frowned. "You don't think it's creepy?"
"What?" Sportacus asked. "That you're a spider? No...I mean, you're not really a huge black widow or...well, I guess maybe you are? But I just don't see you as that."
"Not a black widow," Robbie chuckled. "Oily things. Just a plain garden spider. I try not to show off anything extra, like my cousin shows off his wings."
He sighed, rubbing one arm. "Not like I remembered what I was before, of course. I mean back when I was. Um."
"I know what you mean," Sportacus said. "So other fairies have butterfly wings and moth wings. Does that mean you've got fangs and eight legs?"
"Six arms," Robbie said, folding tight his visible two. "It's the eyes and the fangs that freaks everyone out, though. I—I don't think I'm going to have much company while I'm here."
"Oh, but—" Sportacus started.
"I'm glad to help the queen," Robbie said quickly. "It's an honor, being one of the only unseelie fairies here. But we're just not very well liked."
"It's not like that at all!" Sportacus said.
Robbie paused. "What?"
"Maybe it was before she was kidnapped, but Stephanie, I mean Queen Steph—" Sportacus huffed and waved his hand. "Whatever, it's just between us. Stephanie doesn't care that you're unseelie so the other fairies are doing what she does. She's the queen, so they want to get in good with her, so even if they don't really agree, a lot of them are going to be nice."
"Heh." Robbie's lips quirked. "I don't know who's tutoring you, but she really isn't doing a good job. Fairies don't trust unseelie. We're not pretty enough. We don't follow rules that well. We're..."
It was hard to say. He hadn't been ashamed of it before, and he wasn't really ashamed of it now. It was just harder to admit when there was a real world and society around him and not just a few goblin kids.
"We're villains," he said softly.
"Robbie—"
"Talk to your brother," he insisted. "You should have seen him trying to keep Glanni out of trouble."
"Believe me, I know," Sportacus said, laughing helplessly at his brother. "Ithrot writes me letters all the time about the stupid things your cousin does."
Sportacus reached out and gathered Robbie's hands in his.
"He also tells me how much fun he has, and how Glanni is so unpredictable that Ithrot never gets bored. And how much Glanni cares about him, and about you, and..."
Staring at Robbie's hands, Sportacus turned them over, rubbing small circles in his palms.
"You get to show the entire court the amazing things you can do," he said. "And everyone is going to want to—they're already talking about..."
His voice trailed off. After a moment, when Robbie didn't react, Sportacus looked up and took a long, deep breath.
"I know this is sudden, but I knew if I didn't ask now, someone else was going to beat me to it. And I couldn't risk that, not after everything. Not..." He swallowed once.
"Robbie...would you allow me to...to formally court you?"
Robbie's eyes widened. But more than that—a second pair of eyes opened up beside the first, and then a smaller pair beside those. Robbie caught himself before the last pair could open, and he turned away and put his hands over his face.
"I'm sorry!" he cried. "Sorry, sorry, sorry—I can usually—oh god, sorry, I didn't..."
"Wha—? No, don't be sorry!"
Sportacus put his arms around him, turning him around. When Robbie refused to move his hands, Sportacus guided him to the windowseat and made him sit, holding either side of his head, thumbs running along the back of his hands.
"I didn't—" Robbie said, refusing to look up. "They usually stay closed—"
"Is it because you think they're scary? " Sportacus asked, sitting next to him. "They're not."
"They're extra eyes on my face," Robbie grumbled, peeking at him between his fingers. "Of course they're freaky."
"They're just eyes," Sportacus said, rolling his. "Honestly, you act like you're dripping slime or stretching out like a goblin."
"You haven't seen my fangs," Robbie muttered.
"Do they drip slime?"
"...no," Robbie said.
"Poison?"
"It's venom if it's from an animal," Robbie said, then gave a sullen answer. "No. I'm not venomous."
"Then what's the matter?" Sportacus' smile grew infuriatingly wide. "Are your arms all clawed and spiny?"
"I have six of them," Robbie said. "Isn't that enough?"
Sportacus succeeded in bringing Robbie's hands down into his lap, and he refused to let go, even when Robbie gave little tugs now and then to see if Sportacus has stopped holding firm.
"You've never seen other elves, have you?" Sportacus asked.
"I've seen your brother," Robbie said.
"Yes, I know, hideous," Sportacus smiled. "I'm the handsome one. But we're not the only kind of elf. There are some of us that are only half my size, and they have big floppy ears and eyes that bug out."
Robbie chuckled despite himself. "That's so sad...you're already kind of short."
"Hey!" Sportacus said. "Am not! Fairies are just too tall. And you don't have the proper chin anymore, either."
"Oh, don't remind me," Robbie said. "I looked ridiculous."
"You looked closer to an elf," Sportacus said. "Even if it was a bit small."
Robbie chuckled again, easier this time. "You're sure? It doesn't creep you out?"
"The only thing creepy was when I saw one of those prissy butterfly fairies when she thought no one was looking," Sportacus said. "I'd forgotten butterflies have those long proboscis snouts."
Snorting with laughter, Robbie leaned against Sportacus, bowing so that he rested his cheek against the elf's hair.
"I guess...I guess I can let you court me," Robbie said in a small voice. "At least until you realize what a mistake this is."
Tbc...