The first thing Thomas noted was that his eyes were closed and his head hurt something awful. It hadn't even hurt so bad when one of Katherine's concoctions had exploded in his face and a frying pan, Luke's momentary weapon of choice (intended for Katherine) had landed on his crown immediately after. That hadn't been a pleasant evening, but neither was this one, now he thought of it. His future death was being discussed, which was quite bloody important, thank you very much, and he wasn't able to listen now.
Shaking his head, Thomas pushed himself off the floor and opened his eyes. Which led to the second thing: the entire room – if this was a room, because he couldn't tell and frankly, was too tired to think rationally and act like Katherine – was black. There didn't seem to be a floor, which meant he was standing on air, but the glass-black-floor definitely felt like one. The black itself was perfectly tangible, though unseeable and in absolute dark, Thomas waved his hand in front of his nose and couldn't see it. Putting it down, he puffed out a breath. He'd landed quite hard and Thomas was beginning to feel a bit sore from all the exercise and being in places he shouldn't. Taking a step forward, he almost expected the floor to fall out from under him. It didn't, thankfully, and he took another step in the same direction.
Everything looked the same in the dark – if there was anything to see. The room – if it was a room – could've been hundreds of feet high (infinite?) or five and Thomas couldn't know the difference. After another moment of walking in a strange direction, though, there was a quick muttering and then a soft poof beside him. "Who's there?" Thomas jerked out his hands to feel around him.
Wry laughter filled the room. "Ehh, I would've though ye'd know it better, laddie."
"Who- who are you?" Thomas flinched at the stutter in his voice; the tired way his tongue wouldn't move. "Why am I here?"
"I couldn't 'a answered yer questions t'ere." There was a soft rattling and the gentle poof of a flame.
Thomas yelped as light erupted in front of him and pushed the dark away to reveal the little man standing in front of him, hands cupped in front of the grey beard. In the palm of both was a bright flame, levitating just enough it wouldn't burn him. For once in his life, Thomas found himself speechless. Of course, being exhausted helped too.
"Magic." The emerald eyes glittered and the leprechaun whirled about, leading the way through the dark with the flame in front of them. Thomas followed, helpless. After a few seconds, he managed to turn around and examine the floor. It was still unseeable; the black had become a misty black around them.
"Are-" Thomas took a longer stride to be right behind the leprechaun. "Are you a dream? Am I dreaming?"
"Nay," the little man laughed his screechy laugh. "T'e pixies got cur'ous."*
"Pixies? But Father always said pixies aren't real." Thomas forced himself to some point of rational thought. "So you can't be a pixie, since you're real, and if pixies aren't real, then you can't be leading me anywhere good, can you?"
Thomas stopped.
The leprechaun kept on walking, holding the flame like Thomas hadn't said anything.
After a few moments, the dark started to close in on him as the leprechaun got farther away; it was like watching the one tangible thing on earth slowly slipping out of his grasp and Thomas shivered at the sudden sensation of aloneness. He burst into a sprint and caught up with the leprechaun in few strides. "Wh-where are we going then? Where are you taking me?"
No reply again. When he looked around though, the dark seemed to be that much less, and it wasn't only the flame that was beating it back; something small and blue was floating closer. Thomas kept his head turned, eyes wide as he could keep them to see what it was sooner; unsure if he ought to alert the little man or just run back the way they'd come. Finally, the blue glow flittered through the black and formed the shape of a little fairy, wings as large as she was, but no bigger than the palm of his hand. She fluttered closer when he stopped dead and hovered at the level of his nose. Their eyes met for a long second before she flew closer… and closer…. And then without a single beat of her wings, she disappeared with a small poof of dust that trickled down on his sailor's tunic before being absorbed into the fabric.
Had she been real?
Thomas glanced instantly toward the leprechaun for assurance, but the little man was already quite a few yards away and as oblivious as ever. However, there seemed to be a few glowing lights around his head, red and yellow, with a stubborn dash of green flying in a circle. Thomas felt a twinge of shyness run through him as he got closer; the lights looked similar to the blue one. Perhaps there were more of them? Pixies? And if the fae* had called him here because they were curious, wouldn't they do exactly like the blue one had done, then left? Perhaps they were shy.
After getting a few yards closer to the leprechaun, the green fairy noticed him and flew over in a blur of wings and dust. She stopped right in front of his nose, forcing him to pause, and then proceeded to pet his face.
Which was really not weird at all.
Thomas' momentary surprise gave the other fairies time to fly over in a much calmer manner than their excited counterpart. Instead of sitting on the bridge of his nose and feeling his eyebrows, (and making Thomas feel so awkward he wished he could flick the green pixie off) the red and yellow fairy stayed a respectful distance away to examine him. They seemed kind enough however, just curious. The red one was the biggest, and perhaps the oldest, but she and her sisters dressed alike. The Otherworldly glow that hung about them, shown through the darkness and mist, making them appear almost transparent in a nice, homey, but definitely not home sort of way. They seemed completely unaware of this curiosity though, and Thomas found himself getting tired of it too; the yellow, red, and green lights fluttering around him in complete darkness were making him dizzy. Speaking of which, he looked past them for the leprechaun and the light. He found them several yards away, getting farther and farther each second. Thomas took a careful step after him. The flying fae adjusted, but the green one – instead of flying away like he knew was entirely possible – slouched down and straddled his nose. Looking cross-eyed down at her in confusion, (he'd seen her fly – why wasn't she flying?), Thomas took another step.
"Ehh!" The silvery, bell-like voice came from his nose, which was halfway awkward and made Thomas stare at his nose even harder. "Stop walking, you ninny!"
Thomas stopped mid-step and looked at the other fae for help. The leprechaun was already too far ahead to hear them if he wasn't trying not to and his light was quickly fading into the distance.
The two of them fluttered closer to peer at her. "Séad…" They said together in a long sigh. It was the same tone as 'Séad's', though perhaps a little higher and more musical, as if both fairies were constantly singing.*
The green fairy huffed a very soft huff and fluttered over to them, arms cross in a pout. "Ye're never any fun."
"An' ye're quite reckless, like always," the red pixie supplied.
Yellow looked away from the two. "And must we continue tellin' you not to take such abrasive measures?"
"M' actions were not 'brasive!" Séad stomped her foot on air, lifting a small cloud of green dust. "Someday 'm going to be abrasive and ye'll think every other 'abrasive' thing was kitsune play!"*
As Thomas watched from the corner of his eyes, she darted forward to alight on his right shoulder, brushed off her dress very daintily and sat down without another word. When he looked behind for the others, they had disappeared like the former blue fairy. He decided to keep walking with the green fairy apparently coming along for a ride. The leprechaun's light grew as they got closer and Thomas felt the surroundings become a bit warmer. He wanted to ask questions, but the little fairy still seemed in a hot flurry. When they were about ten yards from the little man, he couldn't hold it any longer. "Who… who are you?" He asked.
"A fairy," Séad snapped. "And 'm real."
They must've heard his question to the leprechaun then. Thomas glanced around through the dark, wondering if the fae could possibly switch off their glow, and if that was the case, how many millions of fairies were watching him that instant. He shuddered and dismissed the creepy thought. "But what does Séad mean? Does it mean anything? Who were the others?" He took a breath. "Where am I? Who is the man up there and where is he taking us? Why are we going there?"
The little pixie sighed and he felt her petite weight shift on his shoulder. "T'ey were my sist'rs. Quite shy 'alf the time. 'm surprised t'ey even came. And m' name's a stone in yer world. 's a green one, I think." She stood up then, one hand on a lock of hair to keep her balance. "Not emerald… jade? Jade."
"I like it." Thomas turned toward his shoulder to smile and found he had a clearer view of her the closer she got. She had a slender dress on that came halfway up her thighs with tiny, short sleeves. Her skin and up-done blond hair didn't appear to be green, but they radiated it enough he couldn't tell much difference between such and her wings, which were a jade-green gossamer form of accessories and loveliness.
She looked back toward him and caught him staring at her. The green glow instantly flushed a reddish hue. "No wonder we never bring 'umans here often. They're always rude!"
So Thomas looked away again. "Where am I?"
"… and stupid." Séad sniffed and crossed her arms again.
He'd offended her, Thomas realized after a minute of her silence. (The leprechaun in front was still ignoring them or couldn't hear, though he kept walking.) He didn't know what to say, however, so he kept walking, hoping that after a while her temper would cool off and he'd know some more of this world – since it seemed like he was in a different one now that included pixies and leprechauns.
After what seemed a year, Séad puffed out a soft breath. "W're going somewhere very wond'rful."
"Can I see it?"
"Of course, git." She settled down on his shoulder again, one hand reaching up to grip his hair.
"It's so dark here though. Does it get lighter when we get closer?"
The pixie blinked. "Dark? Is i' dark?" She shook her head before Thomas could reply. "Dark fer you, then. Most children never see dark."
"What's different? Should it not be?"
Thomas glanced at her just as a sly smile slid over her face. She tugged on the lock of hair again while leaning on tiptoe to speak into his ear. "T'e Darklands can be anything ye 'magine them to be."
"Then-" Thomas bit his lip. "Then why are they dark?"
Séad tossed her little arms up in the air. "'umans! Ye're not 'magining anything!"
That made sense, now he thought of it, and he should've known that sooner. Thomas glanced around at the billowing dark and the small light in front of them from the leprechaun. Closing his eyes, he thought of the favorite treat he'd had once; mounds and mounds of it with little sprinkles falling from the sky to make bigger mounds. And then he opened them.
The air above them was the thick grey of storm clouds and around them was a white wonderland. The pixie on his shoulder blinked. "What 's this?"
"Sugar!" Thomas blurted out and dove for the nearest white pile. It was sugar. The grainy white specks coated his face and it was completely tangible when he scooped up a load in his hands. He could only imagine what Olivia would be telling him now; not to eat it, or not to eat too much. Katherine would be staring at the phenomenon and wondering how it could be taking place, but his still-exhausted mind was too tired to comprehend anything than the unlimited sweetness in front of him. Scooping up another handful, Thomas shoved it in his mouth.
And promptly spat it back out. Scrambling out of the mess, Thomas stared at the enormous trick. "It isn't sugar!"
Séad giggled a lovely bell-like giggle from where she was fluttering above him. "'course it doesn't taste. It's the Darkland. Ye've got to imagine t'e taste fer it to be right."
"But if I'm imagining the taste…" Thomas frowned in stressful thought. "It can't be right anyway. I'm just fooling myself into thinking it's the right thing. This isn't a world of sugar at all; it's still the Darkland." He blinked, and suddenly the sky began to grow darker; the sugar under his feet turned into puddles of brownish sludge before it all disappeared and turned black again. The leprechaun with the light was farther away than he'd been, apparently hidden by the mounds. Thomas huffed once at the vanished mirage and started after him.
Séad followed, a tiny pout on her face again. "But it was wha' ye wanted, wasn't it?"
"But it wasn't real." Thomas kicked vaguely at the darkness. "I only want it if it's going to be real."
She sighed and settled down on his shoulder again. After a time, Séad nudged him. "We wanted to know."
"What?"
"We wanted to know." She rolled her eyes, but the action didn't hold any anger; apologies though, almost. "We wanted to know why 'e cares fer ye."
Thomas raised an eyebrow and found his curiosity peaked enough to glance at her. "Who? Seamus?"
"'f course Seamus." Séad puffed out a breath. "We're the fae of Ireland. We're 'is. And 'e cares about ye – ver' much. An' we wanted to know why. So Abbán brought you here."*
"Ah." And that made sense, really. But there it was again; they were 'his'. What was Seamus' anyway? The whole world? Did captaining a ship give you all that right? Who was he?
"-mas!"
Thomas whirled around to peer into the dark the way they'd come, before glancing back at Séad. "Did you hear something?"
"No," but her face was oddly worried with a pout that seemed sadder than her earlier ones. "Come with me, Thomas. Please? I'm truly sorry about the Darkland, but 's wonderful and ye can see the whole of your world if ye want to, without any of the dangers. You haven't even seen my 'ome yet. Look. We're getting closer."
Thomas pursed his lips and glanced around. Now he looked, the dark was getting lighter. The leprechaun's light had faded into a bleary grey mist, and beyond that appeared something brighter; something out of a fairytale. But this was a land of magic and fay, apparently, so he shouldn't have expected any less. There were the dancing glow of fairies just before the light-grey mist became dark-grey; hundreds of them in every imaginable color, shape, and size. Some seemed as big as his head while others couldn't possibly be as larger than his pinky finger.
"Thomas!"
"Do come." Séad fluttered out in front and Thomas couldn't remember when he'd seen anything so pretty as the thousands of different colors – some of them he hadn't known existed. Not even as pretty as Cahill island after a spring storm. "You must. I insist. There isn't any pain 'ere 'n ye can never die. We all love children. I'll teach you magic if you like."
"I- I heard something."
But when he started to glance behind him, Séad tugged fiercely at his hair to keep his attention. "Ye've got to come with us. It's prettier here. It's more fun 'ere; nothing's ever fun in that world – ye can get hurt 'n die."
The leprechaun had turned around at the border of light-grey and shadow too and the little cock of his head seemed to question him. Thomas could almost hear his voice in his head – or was he really speaking? "Come 'long, laddie. 'll be gre' fun."
"But- But what about sailing? I want to go sailing."
"Thomas!"
And there was definitely someone behind him in the dark with an assuredly familiar voice.
She flew backwards a few steps, large, green eyes pleading with him for a few paces more. "Ye can sail 'ere."
Something seemed wrong. And Thomas hung back, watching the fluttering pixies. They were all waiting for what seemed to be a decisive moment; and now he was closer, the city seemed lovely, much more lovely than at a distance. There were rolling fields of grass with every kind of imaginable flower growing and far in the distance, cottages of the wee size for wee folk. Even farther, he could imagine a sea for sailing, always under a blue sky; awful weather would never prevent a departure.
"Thomas!"
Seamus?
The question started bouncing around in his head again: Who was Seamus? And more importantly, what was his crew going to do with him? They'd wanted to toss him overboard in a rowboat in the middle of a storm just for a laugh if he managed to live. Here, they wanted him. No more Luke, no more Jane – who was a (fucking) fairy anyway – no more bossy Katherine, stern Olivia, or solemn Gideon. And for some reason, it didn't hurt. No pain, hadn't Séad said? He wouldn't even miss them, and knowing their bloody attitude, they wouldn't miss him either. One less mouth to feet at any rate. Thomas took a step forward.
Séad instantly smiled, eyes lighting up in such a hopeful look he had to take another step.
"THOMAS!"
Thomas yelped as arms encased him and suddenly he couldn't breathe. "Wai- let- let go of-"
"Let 'im go!"
There was a throaty growl from the throat connected to the arms crushing him close as Séad tugged furiously at his hair. It had words connected to it, but Thomas' brain couldn't work it out. Possibly frank denial.
"Please let 'im go! 'e was going to be m' friend! We are fr'ends! Please. 'e knows my name; please, 'e wants to come!"*
"T' die 'n Avalon?!" The voice snarled.
Thomas felt the world start to swim like his mind was being torn two places at once; it was so hard to breathe, but even if he had the air, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stand. "Sea- seamus-" There was merciful release and sweet, sweet oxygen again, but for some reason, he continued clinging to Seamus and the dizziness didn't stop.
"Yer safe," the man murmured after a moment. "'S alright. I'll take ye 'ome."
"But you can't take 'im home!" Thomas felt the furious tugging on his scalp again. "We want him! I want 'im!"
"Ye can't go draggin' ever' child 'nto yer island." Seamus' gruff voice snapped. Then he turned downward a bit; Thomas could feel the words directed at him. "Ye step inside t'eir l'nd, ye die 'n ye can't go back. Mag'c can on'y do so much."
"Thomas." And there was suddenly a hand brushing across his cheek; soft and warm, though rather callused. Leisel. Leisel had come; he barely knew her and she'd come to this scary place where she didn't know anything either. Suddenly Thomas felt like jumping into her arms and sobbing – which was not a manly thing to do at all – but his head hurt and all the world suddenly felt upside down and topsy-turvy and he was so tired of everything and Arthur and Seamus – (fuck it all he didn't care who Seamus was, he never should've doubted him) – appearing in a world of magic and how he'd gotten here in the first place; it didn't matter in the least. Thomas decided to bury his head in Seamus' tunic and cling as tight as possible.
After a minute when the (very manly, thank you) urge to bawl passed, he glanced up. The leprechaun was gone, along with most of the fairies. The red one was there, whom he'd seen before, along with the sister-Yellow fay in front of the city. And Séad was fluttering in front of the three of them, watery eyes pleading with him. "Ye- ye won't stay?" she finally managed; her voice was even higher than usual with the pleading tone of little bells tied in.
Thomas managed to shake his head, even though it hurt something wicked.
"Ehh," she murmured. Pursing her lips, she watched them, then suddenly fluttered over and landed on his shoulder.
Thomas felt Seamus shift in surprise. "Yer 'ome is 'ere, wee one."
"I'm not a 'wee one'," Séad snapped and crossed her arms, sounding like her old self. "I like 'im. And we're friends. So I'm coming too."
"Are you sure?" Leisel murmured. "It can be dangerous, for certain."
"'course." Thomas felt Séad give a vicious, but quite light kick to something – probably Seamus. "Well? 're we goin' back to yer gory world or not?"
Seamus laughed low and his grip on Thomas tightened. "You 'an 'elp too, I know."
Thomas shut his eyes as his headache's power grew. And then all form seemed to blur into something with space, but not with solids in a sense of déjà vu, and exhaustion overcame him, and finally finally Thomas fell asleep.
-=-(*)-=-
Screaming.
Thomas felt a frown drag over his features and he unconsciously curled tighter in the blankets. Whoever it was, they needed to shut up. There was licorice in his dream, and sweetmeats and something about fae taking the real Jane away and replacing her with a pixie – by which he knew she was bound to grow up and leave happily out of his life forever. Except someone was screaming at the top of their lungs about hands. Hands. Like hands couldn't wait. Thomas moaned exasperatedly into his pillow, trying to listen to the voice and ignore it at the same time. Hands on the deck? Were mutant hands crawling out of the sea, growing legs, and invading the boat? Because that was bloody awesome and he'd have to see that, even if it meant recognizing the dizzy way he felt at the moment.
And then there was the sound of a head against wood and a string of colorful curses. Seamus.
Cracking open an eye, Thomas watched a shirtless-Seamus struggle into a tunic, a drastic change from the fancy green coat and alike he'd been wearing the day before. Whirling around once on his heel, the man caught sight of him propped in bed. He looked a bit bleary-eyed to be honest and his red hair definitely hadn't been combed. "You stay 'ere," the man snapped.
"But- but what about the hands? Won't you need my help?"
Seamus shot him an odd look and started towards the door. "No."
And suddenly Thomas' mind heard what the man was screaming. He fumbled with the sheets and dropped to the floor. "'E's saying all 'ands on deck. I'm a hand too, aren't I?"
"You stay safe." Seamus shot him another look and he was gone. Off in the distance, Thomas heard a sound like thunder. Thunder…. He frowned, glancing at the window. Had the sky been clear last night? No, it hadn't.
Wait, the sky was clear now. This was odd. It had been storming when he'd gone to sleep. Thomas slid blearily out of bed, around the table, and to the window to smash his face against the panes of glass and look up. Yes, it was quite clear; a few clouds here and there that could billow into something more, but as of now, not much. Lovely weather then. So what was the problem?
Another clap of thunder sounded off in the distance, making Thomas frown with worry when the ship rocked slightly a few moments after it went off. The wake hadn't been too bad, but something had hit the water with enough force- Two tiny hands dug themselves in Thomas' forelocks and flipped over, leaving the small person in question hanging at eye level. "Good mornin'," Séad chittered. "Slept enough?"
Thomas snorted, making her giggle as her makeshift swing drifted back and forth on the breeze. "No."
"Aww," Séad let go and dropped a few inches before her wings caught her. "Yer no fun. Eh, 'n don't you notice anything different? Hm?" She whirled lightly around, a delighted, antsy grin on her face.
Now she mentioned it… Thomas peered closer. The clothes she'd had on the night before, had changed into clothes quite a bit like Leisel's. She had knee-high boots on – magic, Thomas figured, dismissing any other ideas, because even Seamus with all his strings to pull couldn't make boots that small – and her long blond hair pulled into a tussy bun-like thing, since Thomas couldn't describe it any other way. What was he supposed to say to it though? "Mm. I do," he finally shrugged.
"Good." A tri-cornered hat with a fluffy green feather suddenly appeared in Séad's hand and she settled it firmly on her head as another clap of thunder shook the ship. It was getting closer. She fluttered over to the window while Thomas stood there, already aware there was nothing on that side of the ship. "W'at's that?"
"I don't know, but Seamus left 'n an awful hurry."
Séad gave a grin that he was starting to link with action, risk, and excitement. "Then le's go find out, shall we?"
-=-(*)-=-
* Both Fae and Fay are acceptable uses for the plural of 'fairy', although, as Wikipedia points out, fae is termed as Middle-to-Old-English (stemming from 'faierie' or 'feirie' and taken from Old French's 'faie' [Modern English: fay].) and generally abandoned for the more modern term of Fairies. However, Fay reminds me too much of Morgan le Fay, and looks odd, so in this story, I prefer the use of Fae. Fay is also not to be confused with fey. (-the Germanic term of 'fated to die'.) I had a terrible time remembering whether fay or fey was proper while sorting all these words out. For more information on the etymology of 'Fairy' visit Wiki here: en. wiki pedia wiki /Fairy
* "The pixies got curious." - I use Pixie and Fairy interchangeably in the story, though they can be termed as different creatures and some tales even go as far to say there was a war between the pixies and fairies in Buckland St. Mary, Somerset: the pixies won and still frequent the area while the fairies had to leave. (I wanted to use this tidbit, but it was difficult since I would've had to change a ton of Séad's labeling, change Scottish folklore, and discuss Arthur's vital regions and I really didn't want all that drama.) The title pixie is generally used in Cornwall and Devon, England to describe childlike, mischievious creatures with benign intentions. Sometimes they have human stature, sometimes not, and they love bits of finery and horses. Quite a bit of the fairy and pixie mythology seems to have been interchanged however, so most is left to the imagination.
* 'Séad', pronounced 'Shayd'; meaning Jade in Gaelic, as in the stone.
* "... kitsune play." - Kitsune is the Japanese word for fox, which highlights the kitsune myth really. Kitsunes are generally portrayed as foxes with magical abilities and multiple tails that increase with their age and wisdom. Their foremost attribute is the power to change into human form. While they're sometimes said to be tricksters like foxes often are in Western folklore, more often the Japanese kitsune is a faithful guardian, friend, lover, or wife. Because of their power, they are sometimes lifted to diety standards and regarded with high offerings.
* 'Abbán', pronounced 'A-bahn'; meaning Little Abbot in Gaelic.
* "He knows my name." - In lore, if you know a fairy's name, you could summon it to you have have it do your bidding, though Thomas isn't aware of this. In headcanon, I imagine all the Briton brothers knowing their general mythical creatures' names, but they don't use them unless they must, which the fae are grateful for.
The shortest chapter~! Hurray!
