It was April Fools this week, which means it's time for a new installment of Heels! Part four is also the final installment of Heels and, much as I had no idea how I was going to end it when I went into writing it, I really love how it turned out and closed off the Heels Saga.

Enjoy, stay safe, and know that Cyrus truly is a Small Boy.


Even if the truth of his height came out, could Cyrus ever go back to the way things were before he and Therion had begun their childish fight? (Heels 4) (Contains strong language)


The Small Matter of the Truth

With the day of the Fool once again just around the corner, Cyrus couldn't help but wonder what prank the others would play on him this year.

That said, with everyone starting to bring their journeys to a close as they travelled around Orsterra once more on their way to Grandport and the fair, the atmosphere that followed the travellers was rather sombre. Who knew where they'd go after they brought their journeys to a close? Who knew when they'd see each other again, if their paths would ever once again cross? Who knew what was waiting for them once their journey was over, would their lives ever be the same?

However, who was to say that these questions and the sombre air wasn't just a cover, a carefully crafted facade to lower Cyrus' guard? Perhaps this was all part of the ploy, the Fool prank of the year where the others would at last reveal that they knew he was short.

Or perhaps he was simply exhausted of this last year and a half travelling with these people. And perhaps that exhaustion was making him more and more paranoid about something that really wasn't a big deal.

Because, truly, why was he still fighting this name calling? The fear of being called Small Boy… Was it really worth everything he'd done, was it really worth his sanity and his health? Was it really worth all this hassle?

"Hey, Small Boy!" Tressa called back to Therion who, due to their most recent lie, was walking hand in hand with the tired professor at the back of the group. Immediately, a smile came to Cyrus' face.

Yes. Yes all the energy he was putting into hiding his height really was worth it.

"Go fuck yourself." Therion mumbled under his breath as he saw Cyrus' smile out the corner of his eye, perking up slightly to listen to Tressa as she asked whether he thought they could make it to Grandport before the sunset or if they should stop here on the coast.

The fact that Therion was as exhausted by all this as Cyrus was was a small mercy, a delightful fact that still managed to bring a smile to his tired, lying face. That the pair hadn't yet killed each other was nothing short of a miracle in itself too. These past few months, the pair had kept up the illusion of being a couple through sheer pride and determination alone. Neither one would concede. Neither one would back down. Cyrus continued to deny his height, Therion continued to keep up the illusion of a frustrated lover.

And so they'd travelled together, anger for one another continuing to build beside their exhaustion as the others watched on, seemingly ignoring their childish fight now.

Still, forced to camp out under the stars on the Moon-Struck coast – which would really be rather a nice place to spend the night with some books and a bottle of wine, away from Therion's company – it seemed as though there was no avoiding the rest of the group for the couple tonight.

"Cy?" Therion called to him quietly as they started to build their shared tent. Of course, Cyrus telling Therion that he hated pet-names early into their 'relationship' had only encouraged him to find as many as he could. At least he didn't hate the shortening of his name as much as he hated being called foods. The next time the little thief called him 'muffin', Cyrus intended to shove his staff so far up-

"Yes?" He shook his head clear of such thoughts.

"Can we call a truce, just for tonight?"

"Admitting defeat, are we?" Cyrus raised an eyebrow, some light and joy returning to his voice for the first time in months.

"No, you just look so tired that I thought I'd take pity." Therion shook his head, pointing to the rather obvious bags under the scholar's eyes. "I won't try to make you small tonight."

"Very well." Cyrus nodded, hating the idea of agreeing to a truce that Therion could so easily break. "In exchange, I will not participate in any teasing tonight."

Therion made a dismissive noise. "You don't need to take pity on me."

"As you wish, Small Boy." Cyrus turned back to securing the tent.

"Wait." Therion let out a frustrated sigh before quietly mumbling, "Please take pity on me."

"Why, Therion dear!" Cyrus mock exclaimed, laughing slightly to himself, "I never thought I'd see the day!"

Therion turned back to securing his side of the tent as he grumbled.

"What's takin' you two so long, eh?" Alfyn called to them, appearing out of nowhere beside their tent – no mean feat considering there was nothing but bare sand and sea as far as the eye could see. Still he made the pair jump all the same. "Just hurry it up, will ya? We've got somethin' we want to talk to you 'bout."

"Oh, good." Therion's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "Can't wait."

"You'll like this, Therion," Alfyn dropped him an exaggerated wink as he left, headed in the direction of the gathered sticks they were waiting for Cyrus to light. "Trust me."

"Therion..." Cyrus practically growled his name as he looked over the tent at him. "Did you get me to agree to a truce that you're immediately about to break?"

"Oh come on, Cyrus, grow up." Therion shook his head as he growled back. "I have no idea what Alfyn's talking about."

"Oh no, of course not." Cyrus' sarcastic tone was perhaps more hurtful than Therion's, if only because he didn't use it that often.

"Please. Don't you trust me?" Therion batted his eyelashes at him.

"Not one bit, Small Boy."

"Hey." Within almost a blink of the eye, Therion went from being on the other side of the tent to beside Cyrus with his dagger out. "Uncalled for. I don't know what this is about, promise."

"Well, that is your honest tone of voice and dagger." Cyrus shook his head and grabbed a tome from his packs. "Fine, just. Put that away."

Therion sheathed his dagger as the pair made their way to the others, Cyrus lighting the bonfire with a single flap of his tome. Immediately, Linde bounded over from her frolicking in the sea to lie right beside the fire, soaking up its warmth.

"Ben careful, Linde." H'aanit warned as she warmed some of her sweet breads next to the fire for the group. "Lest thou catchen thyself aflame."

"You'd think you wouldn't have to warn her not to do that," Primrose smiled at the leopard as she lounged in the sand.

"Thou would thinken..." H'aanit shook her head, gently lifting Linde's tail away from the fire and wrapping it around her.

"Hmm." Primrose hummed in understanding, looking over at the small boys as they settled into the sand opposite. "And what took you two so long?"

"We wanted to make sure the tent was secure." Cyrus smiled at her, conscious that it was likely marred by exhaustion as Therion settled into a half-raised lying position next to him, his head resting comfortably on Cyrus' shoulder. Apparently relationship-Therion was all about contact. "We are right next to the sea, after all."

"Indeed." Primrose looked over at the others, waiting quietly as they all imperceptibly nodded their heads. With a sigh, she drew herself up slightly. "Gentlemen, we have something we need to tell you."

"In the spirit of the day of the Fool, we would like to come clean." Ophilia nodded slightly watching as the pair both turned to look at the group in clear confusion.

"We know you're short, Professor Albright." Tressa said the words that Cyrus had been dreading since they started travelling together. However, instead of feeling like a weight on his shoulders, driving him deep in the sand and ruining him in a way that he would never recover from, those simple words actually took a huge weight off his shoulders. It was as though he was finally free, free to sleep and end this charade with Therion.

"Finally!" Therion let out an explosive breath, turning to point his finger accusatorially in Cyrus' face. "I told you they believed me."

"Shut up, Therion," Primrose shook her head. "You're not in on this."

"Oh, so you weren't lying earlier." Cyrus couldn't help but acknowledge in surprise.

"No. And it hurt that you thought I was."

"This," Olberic cleared his throat, gesturing between the pair and how close they were to each other still, "is why we wanted to come clean."

"What do you mean?" Therion asked in confusion, making no move to scoot away from Cyrus.

"When we realised you were short, Professor," Alfyn cleared his throat. "We wanted to see how far you and Therion would go to hide and prove the fact. We just… never expected you to go this far."

"And now, this childish fight over height is getting in the way of what could well be a good relationship, for both of you." Ophilia shook her head.

"What?" "Beg pardon?" Therion and Cyrus exclaimed at the same time.

"Effective immediately, I'm no longer calling anyone by height based names." Tressa banged two shells together as if imitating a judge's gavel. "You are no longer Giant, Olberic. H'aanit is no longer Tall Girl and Alfyn is no longer Tall Boy. And you, Therion, are no longer Small Boy."

"Yes!" He punched his fist in celebration before shaking his head. "However, back to what you said earlier. You know that Cyrus and I were only in a pretend relationship, right?"

"Aye." H'aanit nodded, carefully moving Linde's tail again. "Howeveren, I must aske thee, Cyrus, dost mine and Alfyn's bet still standen true?"

"...It does." Cyrus admitted, too caught up in trying to process everything to bother hiding anything any longer. What good had lies ever got him? A year and a half of pointless sleeplessness, that's what.

"Dammit, Cyrus!" Alfyn exclaimed, punching his fist uselessly into the sand. "Couldn't run back to the closet for your old pal Alfyn, huh?"

"I'd rather not lie anymore, Alfyn." Cyrus shook his head and stood. "I am far too tired. ...And my feet hurt."

"Yeah, you really shouldn't wear heels in the sand, Prof." Primrose waved her bare feet in the air as if to make a point.

"Noted." Cyrus nodded and turned back in the direction of his tent. "Excuse me a moment."

As he left, Cyrus cast a spell of ice over his shoulder, extinguishing the fire to show the others he was disappointed in them. And to stop Linde nearly putting her tail in the fire again.

"Oh no, Professor's sad!" Tressa said a little to loudly. "Therion, better go check on your man!"

"I think we should all leave the good Professor alone and turn in for the night, Tressa." Ophilia said quietly, reigning the young girl in.

"Aye." Olberic agreed, getting up from the sand with all the grace of a walrus. "Let us leave Cyrus be tonight, Therion."

"Therion?" Primrose called his name as they all realised he wasn't there in the clearing with them, having snuck off on silent – even in the sand – feet to meet Cyrus at the flap of their tent.

"Please move aside, Therion," Cyrus sighed, his head exhaustedly in his hand as he crouched to shuffle into their tent, watching as Therion shuffled in first.

"Wanna talk?"

"No." Cyrus shook his head, pulling his heels off at last and stretching his toes. "I think you and I have spoken enough to last us both a lifetime."

"Right." Therion shook his head, grabbing his roll of blankets and moving to sleep outside. "I'll leave you be."

"Therion." Cyrus called after him as he pulled out his own blankets, offering him a smile. "Please accept my heartfelt apologies for letting this go too far."

"Likewise." Therion offered him a smile too. "In a weird way, I'm going to miss our argument."

"Indeed." Cyrus chuckled, feeling better already. It wasn't often one saw Therion with a genuine smile on his face, after all. "In a weirder way, I think I might even miss our faked relationship."

"Heh." Therion let out a chuckle as he shook his head. "I just wish the others told us they knew sooner."

"Agreed." Cyrus suddenly grinned rather deviously.

"What? What's with that look?" Therion asked in surprise before a similar grin creased his own features. "Oh, you've thought of a plan to get them back, haven't you?"

"Remember what Alfyn told us about slumberthorn?"

"You genius!" Therion exclaimed, shuffling back into the tent to kneel opposite him. "He's still got some in his satchel. I could steal it and administer it easily when they're asleep."

"Fantastic!" Cyrus exclaimed, reaching out his hand to shake Therion's. "I knew I could count on you."

Therion shook his hand, still grinning, before he lent back. "I must say, this is a particularly out-of-character payback method for you, Cy."

"Perhaps your devious ways have rubbed off on me." Cyrus shook his head with a little laugh as he let his hair down.

"Hm." Therion looked away rather abruptly as he mumbled once again. "Perhaps there was more truth to Ophilia's advice than I thought..."

"Pardon?" Cyrus asked, having heard quite well what he'd muttered and simply hoping he might hear it louder.

"Nothing." He shook his head in embarrassment, hurrying back to the tent flap once again. "Sleep well, Cy. I'll sort the others."

"Therion." Cyrus called to him again as he left, watching as he poked his head back into the tent. "You needn't sleep outside tonight. I… have grown rather used to your company and..."

"Hmph." Therion shook his head as he closed the flap again, not quite quick enough to hide his soft smile. "Sleep well, Professor."

"And you, little thief."

The six awoke from their guilty nightmares rather too late in the next morning, their heads groggy and a desperate need to apologise to the scholar and thief burning within them all as they marched – as much as one can march in soft sand – to the pair's shared tent.

All accusations and apologies died on their lips when they saw the couple rather fast asleep in each others arms.

Despite her promise to never mention height again, Tressa did make a quiet, off-hand remark that she couldn't tell which of the pair was the little spoon.