Never Knew Anybody 'til I Knew You

by Aglio - Saggezza

Harlequin, the third Fairy King, thought he could never trust a human again. "Bandit" Ban believed he would never meet someone who truly understood him. They prove each other wrong.

┬┴┬┴┤･ω･)ﾉ *shows up 6 years late with Starbucks* 'Sup bitches have a fic for a rarepair in a fandom no-one seems to care about

I actually finished writing most of this monster of a one-shot over three years ago, but kept second-guessing myself—going back to edit it before deciding it sucked and giving up on it, then picking it back up, over and over… And never got around to publishing it, haha. But here it is at last.
The summary is a work in progress because I'm bad with those but wanted to finally spit this sucker out, so here it is. I'm done. Whew.

This story is based off the premise that King notices Helbram's disappearance just that little bit earlier and makes it in time to save him and the other kidnapped fairies—and doesn't get injured and lose his memories in the process (so, sadly, he never meets Diane). King safely brings Helbram and the others back to the Fairy King's Forest, but never quite forgives himself for allowing them to sneak out and get hurt in the first place. So he spends the next 700 years obsessively guarding the Sacred Tree, which is the gateway to the fairy realm and holds the Fountain of Youth. And eventually, he meets Bandit Ban.

This fic was brought to you by the Goo Goo Dolls' "Come To Me", The Afters' "Beautiful Love" and Public's "Make You Mine". Its title was brought to you by Imagine Dragons' "Born To Be Yours", because I have no imagination (no pun intended).
I disclaim everything, btw.

---

Harlequin doesn't hate humans.

Even Helbram, who used to love the short-lived species the most out of all fairykind, has changed his mind about them after that tragic day seven hundred years ago. He once admired humans for their ingenuity, creativity and adaptability; but no distant admiration could possibly have survived the traumatising ordeal Helbram went through. Betrayed by someone he trusted despite their different species, used to condemn his friends to the same fate, powerless to do more than listen to their agonised wails as their wings were slowly ripped away—hatred and terror festering in his heart at the thought that, so terribly soon, he would be next…

It's quite simply a miracle that Harlequin made it in time to eliminate that treacherous merchant and his pet mercenary before any of his people were killed. And to this day, those whose wings were torn off have yet to grow them back.

Since then, the already reclusive Fairy Clan has been even less welcoming towards outsiders than before. In the past, the memory of the Holy War left humans and fairies loosely allied by default: and so the occasional human visitor used to be allowed up to the foot of the Sacred Tree, and a chosen few even beyond it and into the Fairy King's Forest. Nowadays, though, they are forbidden from even coming near the Sacred Tree.

The human kingdoms have evidently caught on to the cooling of Harlequin's, and by extension the Fairy Clan's regard for them. It's been centuries since royal envoys from some nation or another last came calling with requests for trade agreements—much less for aid in battle. Even the explorers and scholars who used to beg an audience from the Fairy King and permission to catch a glimpse of the legendary Forest know better, now, than to try.

Nowadays, the only ones who dare come close to the Sacred Tree are brigands or thrillseekers willing to risk the Fairy King's wrath for a sip from the legendary Fountain of Youth. And such daredevils are always repelled with extreme prejudice, because for all that Harlequin doesn't hate humans—

(Because he can't afford to. He's the Fairy King, and diplomacy is a cornerstone of any monarch's duty, even one with the Sacred Tree's power at his back. Disposing of thieves and would-be invaders is his right, but indiscriminately attacking all humans who pass near his Forest would earn him the enmity of the entire human race. Harlequin will not drag his people into war for the sake of his own grudge.)

—he certainly doesn't tolerate them as well as he used to, especially since he doesn't have Helbram's cheerful rhapsodising about the virtues of humans to soften him towards them anymore. And the human currently scaling the Sacred Tree's trunk while singing some strange ditty is about to find out exactly what kind of mercy Harlequin reserves for threats to his Clan nowadays: none.

Well, Harlequin thinks idly as he sits up on Chastiefol's pillow form for the first time today, stretching and yawning widely. Even though guarding the Fountain of Youth is essential, it"s hardly exciting. At least blasting another greedy upstart away will be fun…

A rough-hewn leather pack thuds onto soft moss, its owner's muscular arm soon following as the human begins to heave himself up onto solid ground under the Sacred Tree's beautiful canopy. "There!" the human exults with a foxlike grin, seemingly talking to himself. Even though he's no longer singing, there's still a musical cadence to his drawling voice. "According to Zhivago's story, the 'treasure protected by the Fairy King' should be on top of this tree~!"

Then the human finally notices Harlequin, sitting cross-legged on Chastiefol and floating a little ways above him—and stops dead, his expression blanking in surprise. Harlequin stares down his nose at the human, expectantly, and says nothing.

The human is equally silent. He climbs up the rest of the way until he's standing at his full, towering height, picking up his pack as he goes. He stares impertinently at Harlequin all the while, apparently more curious about his presence than intimidated by Harlequin's unimpressed look. Harlequin feels vaguely annoyed by the human's insolent scrutiny—and only grows more so when he's freed from that sharp red gaze as the man finally seems to notice what he obviously came here for, behind Harlequin.

There, the Fountain of Youth trickles peacefully, endlessly out of a cup of silver and gold, beautiful in its simplicity, and into a deep pond. Its waters look almost as vibrantly pink as the colourful leaves of the Sacred Tree. Much like the Sacred Tree itself, the Fountain radiates a unique sense of purity and vitality that can't quite be described. It wouldn't take a great leap of logic for even the most ill-informed scoundrel to correctly identify it, and sure enough—

"Oooooh! There's the treasure…the 'Fountain of Youth'!" the human exclaims, licking his chops like a hungry wolf. "…But it looks like Zhivago's info was a bit on the bedtime story side after all. I sure don't see any Fairy Kings around here…"

He trails off, his eyes sliding to the side to land on Harlequin again. The fairy watches with vaguely amused contempt as the human's brain appears to catch up to his tongue—and he finally realises that Harlequin and his Chastiefol are, in fact, floating several feet in the air. This latest thief certainly isn't the cleverest one Harlequin has ever had to ward off.

There's a heavy silence as Harlequin waits for the man to either attack him or flee. Most humans have heard of the "fearsome" Fairy King by now…and of the fate that typically befalls intruders to his Forest. Some of them, upon noticing his presence, have the brains to run away from him as fast as their legs can carry them. He tends to let such wise cowards go unpunished, as long as their thoughts reveal honest fear of ever returning.

This man, though, looks like the far too common type to be either too reckless, or too arrogant to choose that option. Harlequin discreetly curls and uncurls his fingers behind his back, prepared to obliterate the threat to his people the second the human makes a wrong move.

But the human seems entirely oblivious to the tension building in Harlequin's frame and the weight of his magical power gathering in the air. He only steps forward and bends slightly at the waist to look Harlequin in the eye, his droll grin unwavering.

"Hey, kid, are you lost~?" he asks, and…

Normally Harlequin would take the jab at his baby face personally, but the human's question sounds so honest—even kind, under the glibness—that Harlequin's surprise momentarily stays his hand. This certainly isn't the kind of reaction his young looks usually get from crooks looking to steal from his Forest. He can't help but thaw infinitesimally towards the man.

…But not enough to let him off scot free. The fact remains that human criminals, even those who aren't quite the same breed of lowlife as those Harlequin usually deals with, aren't welcome so close to his home.

Harlequin will admit that this particular human seems to deserve better than a painful death impaled by Chastiefol or rotted into sludge by Disaster. But his fate is sealed, all the same.

And so, "I'm protecting my Forest from bandits like you," Harlequin announces around another great yawn, and promptly flicks the man right off the safety of the Sacred Tree's branches with a negligent wave of his hand.

He doesn't bother to listen to the man's dying scream as he settles back onto Chastiefol and curls up for a light nap.

---

This human is certainly persistent, Harlequin will give him that.

No matter how many times Harlequin blows him away, he keeps coming back for more, and Harlequin can't figure out how he's doing it. The man is obviously a human and should be incapable of flight, but how else could he survive all those falls? Not to mention that every time he's thrown off the Tree, he just seems to climb back up even faster!

At least the man is accumulating scrapes and bruises with every fall—but he still seems more irritated than tired or injured every time he reaches the top and is shoved right back off yet again. Harlequin is displeased to find himself empathising with the human: his exasperation with the persistent, cockroach-like man is steadily mounting.

"Knock it off already!" the human explodes at last as he reaches solid ground for the sixth time, panting raggedly and scowling.

And Harlequin is perplexed by the man's annoyance: because it is annoyance, not resentment or fear or hatred. Even though Harlequin has been repeatedly trying to kill him for the past half-hour. Hell, the man hasn't even insulted him yet, much less attempted to retaliate—and Harlequin's frustration is on the verge of bubbling over. No human could possibly be this easygoing, this forgiving. This is a cheap trick to get Harlequin's guard down, and the fact that it's almost working is pissing him off.

"That's my line!" Harlequin barks in retort. It wasn't personal at first, but by now he really wishes the annoying, confusing human would just kick the bucket or leave already, instead of bouncing back to mess with Harlequin's worldview. "How are you even alive? No human should be able to survive falling from this height once, much less six times!"

"Weeell…" Oddly enough, Harlequin's loss of temper seems to calm the man down, and suddenly he's all leering smiles again as he smugly explains, "Once, my shirt snagged on a branch halfway down, and once I landed in a cluster of trees, and another time I got lucky and fell on top of a few giant king trumpet mushrooms…"

Harlequin suspects it will only amuse the man more, but he can't help but stare in flat disbelief. His Forest is deliberately helping this man? Protecting him, against Harlequin's—the Fairy King's—wishes? A human?

Harlequin hastily reaches out to the part of his magic that's inextricably tangled with the Sacred Tree's, and realises that, impossibly, the man isn't lying.

The Forest is actively shielding him from Harlequin's wrath. Now that it senses Harlequin listening closely, it happily explains itself. Pure heart, the rivers burble; Pure soul, the flower fields chime; Keep safe, the Sacred Tree rumbles.

But… Why on earth would the Sacred Tree want the Fairy King to keep a human safe?

"How should I know?" the man says around a cackle. Harlequin realises, flushing, that he's been voicing his thoughts aloud. "But it's hard to believe that a little guy like you would be the guardian of the treasure~… No matter how I look at it, you're more of a kid than a king. But all the same, I won't hold back against you!"

There it is, Harlequin thinks with a twinge of disappointment that he fiercely suppresses as he braces himself for an attack. Humans who refuse to flee from him always choose to try and fight their way past him—never even attempting to bargain for a taste of the Fountain of Youth, or passage into the Forest. Harlequin wouldn't grant them either, anyway, no matter how sweetly a human asked. But it still always amazes him that it never occurs to any of them to look for a peaceful way to obtain what they wish for. They only think to kill and steal.

Harlequin is infuriated to find that he apparently let himself believe, even for a second, that this human might be different. He wouldn't feel disappointed to be proven wrong otherwise.

This man is cut from the same cloth as the rest of them after all—as the traitorous merchant who sought to kill and sell his people, and the heartless mercenary who mutilated them.

Harlequin's reluctance to cause the man excessive pain fades instantly.

The red-eyed human demonstrates admirable mastery of his three-part staff as he spins and twirls it about in a showy display, intense focus painting his sharp face for the first time. Harlequin feels his expression ice over in response, and raises a hand in preparation for parrying the man's blows, Chastiefol morphing into its spear form beside him.

They remain still in a tense standoff for a few seconds, and then—

The human's weapon takes on a bright pink glow and he sends it snapping forward like a whip, almost faster than the eye can see. Caught by surprise (Why does this run-of-the-mill human bandit have magic when it's usually only taught to Holy Knights?!), Harlequin hastily twists two fingers to the side for a sloppy block. Chastiefol follows the motion, and spins to hover defensively before Harlequin's small body; but the human isn't aiming for him.

The luminescent weapon snakes right past the stunned Harlequin and hits something behind him with a metallic tink instead. The human hastily retracts it, reeling in his prize with it—

—and the Fountain of Youth drops right into his outstretched palm.

"It's…not alcoholic, huh…" the human mutters disappointedly after a cursory sniff of the cup's contents. "Ah, well! Cheers to my long and prosperous li—"

Pure, unadulterated panic screams its way through Harlequin's veins, and his body reacts almost before his mind can formulate a plan. He clenches one fist and, lightning-quick, the arms of Chastiefol's Guardian form wrap tightly around each of the human's limbs, wrenching the Fountain of Youth away from his grinning mouth at the very last second.

"—fe…? Hey! What the hell is this?!"

…Harlequin doesn't think he's ever breathed a deeper sigh of relief in his thirteen centuries of life.

In a flash, he's floating right in front of the bound man, plucking the Fountain out of his hand before letting it gently levitate back to its perch, where the cup begins overflowing and filling the spring below once more.

"Hey, shorty! What's the big idea?! Let me go—"

The man's vociferating peters out as Harlequin none-too-gently grabs his collar and gets in his face. Judging by the human's shock, Harlequin's still barely assuaged terror for his Forest and visceral protectiveness of his people must be showing through, despite his best attempts to maintain the mask of a cool-headed monarch.

Harlequin doesn't bother schooling his expression. Frankly, he's still far too worked up to bother trying to remain appropriately dignified at the moment.

"The Fountain of Youth is vital to the survival of my Forest. Without it, my people's home would completely wither and die—not that I would expect a human to understand or care in the slightest!" he seethes, barely keeping his anger in check. He won't go against the Sacred Tree's wishes…but he's so tempted to just get rid of this selfish, unthinking threat to all he holds dear.

Even experiencing the "terrifying" Fairy King's fury up close and personal doesn't seem to faze the human. But he does at least drop that infuriatingly carefree smile, regarding Harlequin as though seeing him properly for the first time. Harlequin waits for the human to beg for his life, to try and sweet-talk his way into Harlequin's good graces; or to spit in his face and swear revenge.

Instead, the human's eyes widen as if in realisation, and he exclaims, "Oh, so that's how it is~! Alright, I get it!"

Harlequin stares at the human, not bothering to hide his scepticism. Nor his increasing annoyance, when the man weathers his scrutiny with only a whimsical grin.

"You don't actually expect me to believe such an obvious lie, do you?"

But the human just laughs that carefree, cackling laugh of his, like he isn't being restrained by a giant stuffed animal and threatened by an age-old king no human ruler has dared to cross in centuries. "You don't have to, but I'm being serious! If the treasure's that important to the forest, I'll leave it alone! " he insists blithely, as if he genuinely expects Harlequin to take him at his word.

And you know what, that's it. Harlequin's had enough of being blindsided and drawn into this insufferable human's pace.

Harlequin doesn't like to read humans' hearts. Not only because they're almost always filled with ill intent, but also because it's the sort of invasion of privacy that he prefers not to inflict even on a species he barely tolerates. He doesn't often need to, anyway: humans arrogant enough to ignore the many rumours of his reclusive Clan's formidableness and encroach upon the Sacred Tree are usually greedy, aggressive, vengeful thugs. They deserve to be eliminated before they can bring further danger to Harlequin's doorstep.

The Tree has asked that this human's life be preserved, so Harlequin unfortunately can't just kill him and be done with it. But he still needs to make sure the man's surrender isn't a trick. So he sets aside his distaste, and lets his eyes flare and his power surge into the man's mind.

Oh well, guess I have to give up, the human is thinking. "The ale made from this forest's wildberries is reaaaaally gooooood~… " the human says. Maaan, what a wasted trip. "It'd be a shame if I couldn't drink it anymooore… "

The human's words…match his thoughts. Match his heart.

He's being honest. The Sacred Tree is allowing the human's presence because he honestly doesn't mean the Fairy King's Forest any harm. The human is…pure of heart.

Guardian slowly releases the human's trapped limbs and reverts into pillow form. The human looks pleasantly surprised to be freed—and doesn't try to attack Harlequin in retaliation, doesn't try to steal the Fountain of Youth again… Because the human holds no ill will towards Harlequin, and no longer intends to snatch the Fountain for himself.

Harlequin was actually right not to tar him with the same brush as other humans out of hand.

The man nonchalantly stretches out his arms and shoulders after his brief confinement. "So…I go by Bandit Ban. What's your name, kid?" he asks, probably tired of Harlequin gawking at him like he's seen a ghost.

After all the heightened emotions and tension of the past few hours, Harlequin feels too drained to muster up any irritation at the human's continued disrespect. "…I'm not a child. And I'm Harlequin, the third Fairy King."

The human hums. "That's too long. I'll just call you King."

Harlequin is thrown—his experience with the human so far has left him under the impression that he had no concept of manners—but decides not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "That's surprisingly courteous of you, bandit," Harlequin concedes with reserved appreciation. If the Sacred Tree really means for Harlequin to offer the human, Ban, hospitality for a time, perhaps they'll actually get along.

But of course, the bandit throws Harlequin's magnanimity back in his face with an irreverent grin. "Oh, I'm not calling you by your stuffy title or anything. It's a nickname, of course, a nickname~!"

"…"

Never mind. Clearly they won't get along at all.

---

While the sun climbs up to high noon and then slowly begins its descent, the human hangs around. He doesn't do much, just perching on one of the Sacred Tree's slimmer branches, gazing out into the blue horizon and the vast forest below. For his part, Harlequin wants to ignore him—but regardless of the Sacred Tree's vouching and his own gut instinct, he still doesn't quite trust Ban enough to nap in his presence. The Forest alerts him to potential danger and intruders whether he's awake or sleeping, but he doesn't want to chance it, all the same. So he floats about in a lazy circuit around the Fountain, his attention split between monitoring the Sacred Tree's surroundings and watching for the bandit's every move. Irritatingly enough, Ban doesn't seem to even notice his scrutiny.

Eventually the one-sided tension gets to be too much for Harlequin, and he resigns himself to having to talk to the human. He won't be able to relax around Ban until he learns more about him, anyway. And he isn't eager to spend the rest of however long Ban will be sticking around completely on edge, so—

"Nothing for it," Harlequin grumbles under his breath as he weightlessly alights upon the branch next to Ban, Chastiefol under his arm.

Even standing while the human is seated and slouched, he's barely taller than Ban. The man doesn't say a word or look at him, but Harlequin has a feeling he has Ban's attention anyway.

"This is the first time the Sacred Tree has ever let in a human who had designs on the Fountain of Youth," Harlequin says with deceptive mildness, staring straight ahead at the clouds gathering on the horizon. "Not only did it save your life, it even asked me to keep you safe.

"An ageing king who dreamt of ruling forever sent an army to invade my lands. A merchant who wished for endless riches tried to steal the Fountain from me… Once, a tribe of savages even tried to burn down my whole Forest along with me. They were all selfish, cruel and greedy. I drove them all off, and the Sacred Tree approved of it."

Probably because they are the shortest-lived sapient species in all of Britannia, humans almost universally possess a fear of death that drives them to commit terrible crimes in their desperation to stay alive just that little bit longer. Fairies, who have no concept of avarice, simply cannot understand the human race's overwhelming greed for life, and frankly, Harlequin has never wanted to.

Certainly, he doesn't want to die any more than the next person. But he can't comprehend how one could even consider condemning an entire race to death just to avoid one's own. How those men could've been heartless enough to rip off fairies' wings just to sell some bogus immortality serum. How the thugs who come seeking the Fountain of Youth could be happy to spend their eternal lives with the crime of the Forest's and Fairy Clan's destruction weighing on their shoulders.

And apparently, this particular human can't comprehend such a thing either, which is why Harlequin's eyes are free of disdain as he turns to peer down at Ban at last. "Why did you want to steal the Fountain of Youth?"

For a long minute, he thinks the human won't answer him. Ban isn't quite frowning, but he isn't smirking or lost in thought anymore either, and still won't meet Harlequin's eyes.

But just as Harlequin is about to give up and leave him alone, Ban hums nonchalantly. "Well, my life hasn't been all that great so far~." He says this so indifferently that Harlequin can't tell whether he resents that fact or not. "But I thought maybe, if I lived long enough…something good might happen, sooner or later. That's 'bout it, really~."

As he speaks, Harlequin sees Ban's childhood unfold in his mind's eye—living on the streets of a dirty human town filled with vice, losing his sister to starvation at a young age, struggling to scrounge up enough food to just barely cling to life day after day, being hurt and beaten countless times for stealing what he needed to survive. Harlequin refuses to pity Ban; he has a feeling the man wouldn't welcome it, anyway. But Ban's words and memories certainly go a long way to convincing Harlequin that the human isn't a threat to his Forest or his people. Ban has felt far too often and far too keenly what it's like to live without a home to ever seek to harm someone else's, much less that of an entire species. The Fountain of Youth is safe from this man.

Harlequin doesn't want to feel guilty for prying into the human's heart a second time; as king, it's his duty to ensure the wellbeing of his people above all else, and to fight off those who would endanger them. Ban is pure of heart but insists for some reason on acting like he isn't, so Harlequin was justified in his suspicion, and shouldn't have to apologise for it!

…But no amount of Elaine's worried lectures has ever managed to fully browbeat Harlequin's softheartedness out of him, so he feels compelled to offer: "But…do you really think you'd attain happiness if you became immortal?"

Ban finally deigns to look at Harlequin. He can tell that he's surprised the human. "Huh?" Ban grunts, rather rudely, in question.

This time, Harlequin is the one who refuses to meet his eye, feigning interest in the trees far below. Still, he elaborates, "My best friend used to love humans, and what he liked the most about them was how they found so many ways to give meaning to their short lives. As for me…" Harlequin's mouth twists in a self-deprecating sort of smile. "Although I've lived a long time, I can't say I've enjoyed it. As Fairy King, I can't afford to fool around when I carry the weight of an entire race's survival on my shoulders. I've guarded the Sacred Tree and the Fountain of Youth from thieves and invaders for more than seven hundred years—"

"Wha-… Seven hundred years?!"

Ban looks completely shocked. It's the most unsettled Harlequin has ever seen the seemingly unflappable man over the course of their short acquaintance. He can't help but wonder, uncharitably, if all humans' memories are that short, or Ban is just an especially stupid specimen. "It might sound excessive, but I've already explained how important the Fountain is—"

"I thought you looked like a brat, but you're old as dirt!"

Harlequin feels his eyebrow twitch violently. Ban sounds so innocently amazed that it's actually more insulting than if the human were deliberately mocking him. Why, this insolent twerp… And to think Harlequin was trying to sympathise with Ban and cheer him up! "…That's all you got from that?"

Because Ban is quickly proving to be the worst person Harlequin has ever met, he flashes Harlequin an unrepentant grin, obviously enjoying the flush of embarrassed fury that's climbing up the fairy's neck. "Don't worry, I was listening…old fart~."

Harlequin's hands contract and relax violently as he struggles against the urge to levitate the human right off the Tree for the seventh time. Ban sends the flexing appendages a wary look, visibly deciding to change the subject.

"Well, all jokes aside, I guess you do have it worse than me. Never seeing the world beyond your forest, spending seven whole centuries just guarding a cup in a tree…do you have any idea how boring your life sounds~?"

Harlequin sees red.

"OF COURSE IT GETS BORING! But my people are depending on me to keep them safe, and I can't fail them again!"

Ban's eyes are wide, his smart mouth actually hanging open a little. He's at a loss for words, clearly aware that he's touched a sore spot but unable to figure out what it might be. Harlequin instantly regrets his outburst, turning his back on the human while he fights for composure. But despite his best efforts, his tightly clenched fists keep trembling, and his shoulders keep heaving with the force of his panting breaths.

Of course he wishes he'd had a chance to explore the lands beyond the Fairy King's Forest before he'd been chosen as king by the Sacred Tree. Of course he sometimes dreams of how easy his life would be if he didn't have to devote it, to devote his every thought and every drop of his strength to the wellbeing of his subjects. Of how wonderful it would be if he could spend his days just playing around with Helbram and Elaine, instead of guarding his forest's borders when hardly anyone is ever foolish enough to try and trespass anymore. Of course he wants rest, and freedom, and adventure.

But he was idle and naïve before, he allowed himself to be convinced by Helbram that humans could be trusted—and dozens of his people, Helbram included, almost paid for it with their lives.

Harlequin can't afford to dream like that anymore.

So, telling himself that he's being reasonable and not in the least bit defensive, he sighs and goes on. "It's not like the world out there is all that great anyway. Violence and greed everywhere…my people are the only ones who seem to be able to just be happy with what they have."

Ban, no longer looking at all fazed by Harlequin show of temper, regards him for a long, silent minute, and then slants him another vulpine grin. "Doesn't really sound like you are~."

Harlequin whirls around to glare at him, but Ban has already leapt off his perch, free-falling along the length of the Sacred Tree and disappearing into the greenery below without a backward glance. Harlequin watches him go, waits for a short while, but Ban doesn't come back.

Harlequin floats back over to the Fountain and settles down by its bank. He doesn't care that the human's gone. He doesn't feel lonely at all.

---

Ban never really had a dream.

He grew up a street rat in the notorious bandit city of Ravens, after all: as a child, it simply never occurred to him to try and think one up. Besides, what use was dreaming of an abstract future when there was never any guarantee that he would have a future in the first place? Finding food and shelter and not being killed was much more important than woolgathering. Fantasies wouldn't keep him safe or fill his belly.

When he met Zhivago, though, Ban started to wish for more than just surviving day after day. Than rushing through life without looking back, for fear of reliving past horrors, or ahead, for fear of seeing nothing there. Maybe Zhivago didn't do that much for him in the grand scheme of things: he didn't bring back Ban's dead sister, or even get him out of Ravens to a place where orphans were viewed as charity cases and not easy prey. But he gave Ban family, survival skills, and the ability to hope for a future.

After becoming Zhivago's son, Ban decided he never wanted to go back to the way his life was before, when he only knew violence and desperation and couldn't even speak kindly to people because he'd never heard a kind word himself. And so Ban's first "dream", if it could even be called that, came about: staying by Zhivago's side for as long as the man would have him.

And that dream came true, but only for a painfully short while. Then Zhivago vanished without explanation and Ban was alone again, left behind with only memories and the ghost of another, far more distant and unlikely dream: finding the Sacred Tree of the Fairy King's Forest and drinking from the treasure within, the Fountain of Youth.

Ban didn't particularly want eternal life. He didn't even want to make a buck by selling it, or the satisfaction of proving or disproving the legend Zhivago had indulgently shared with him. This dream was simply his last link to his missing father, a lifeline he clung to as he struggled through the rest of his childhood and adolescence on his own. A reason to leave Ravens behind someday—something which most children who grew up in the criminal cesspit were simply too beaten-down or twisted, by the time they reached adulthood, to even yearn for.

But not Ban. As he finally put his back to Ravens and set out into the unknown, he felt happier than he ever had since Zhivago had called him son, and knew deep down to his bones that, one day when he was strong enough and bored enough, he'd go see the famous Fairy King's Forest for himself.

In the end, he only gets around to it a good few years later.

Years of exploring Britannia, trekking through mountains, fields and marshes, cheerfully using the money he snatched off unwary travellers and barflies with his magic to taste every kind of ale he could get his hands on. By now, he's trained and grown enough to feel settled in his own skin, and confident that he can sneak or fight his way past anything that might stand in his way to his decade-old ambition.

And indeed, his journey to the Fairy Clan's homeland is short and disappointingly easy. Ban has nursed his one and only dream carefully since he was a kid: meticulously pouring what few childhood hopes his upbringing ever allowed for into it. Picturing himself crossing traitorous lands, battling his way through dragons' nests, and perhaps finding the odd treasure chest or two for good measure, on his way to the legendary Forest. He imagined, hoped even, that his travels would be long and arduous.

But Ban is far too tall and dangerous-looking by now for any of the people he crosses paths with on his way there to try and mess with him. He doesn't encounter any beasts more ferocious than a bear and, even after he leaves the well-trodden path leading to the Forest and enters its outskirts, doesn't run into a single obstacle—almost as if the Forest itself were deliberately clearing his path.

It's a letdown, he'll admit it. But it all becomes worth it as soon as he glimpses the enormous pink-topped tree in the distance.

For a long moment, Ban can only grin wonderingly at the sight of it: so huge and colourful and obviously unnatural amongst the otherwise perfectly normal-looking forest, practically radiating magic. He's filled with excitement at the thought that, if this part of Zhivago's story was actually right, then the ones about the Fountain of Youth and the Fairy King guarding it might be as well!

And he soon finds out that they are, but the Fairy King being real definitely isn't anything to rejoice about.

There's a reason nobody has ever managed to invade the Fairy Clan's lands despite how full of unique resources they are, Ban, Zhivago told him so long ago. The Fairy King is a monstrously powerful man who can defeat entire armies with the flick of a finger! He would wipe the floor with you in the blink of an eye.

The Fairy King is about as far in appearance from a man as one can get. He looks like he's at most thirteen years old and weighs maybe eight stone soaking wet. He's almost two full heads shorter than Ban, and clad in a ridiculously old-fashioned ensemble of vibrantly coloured breeches, hose, and doublet complete with ruff. He's sweet-faced, with a seemingly permanent healthy flush to his cheeks, big amber eyes made for smiling, and cowlicky tawny hair.

For Goddess Clan's sake, the guy's carrying a big, ugly green pillow under his arm. You'll forgive Ban for underestimating him at first. He pays for it almost immediately anyway—

—Because of course, it turns out that the Fairy King can indeed send Ban falling to his death "with the flick of a finger", a magic that Ban is powerless to defend against.

It also turns out the ugly pillow can turn into a pretty damn sharp-looking spear, and a giant stuffed animal much tougher than its cuddly appearance would suggest.

And, lastly and most importantly, it turns out that the Fairy Clan jealously guards the Fountain of Youth not out of greed, but because their homeland needs it to survive. Which means Ban won't be touching it, full stop. Despite his upbringing, he's not that much of a selfish bastard, especially since the very Forest he would doom if he were to steal its source of life is the one that has apparently been saving his life from all of the Fairy King's almost insultingly absentminded attempts to end it so far. And especially since it would mean no more Aberdeen ale, which would be a damn crime indeed.

Ban's a bit down about the whole thing, but doesn't feel too broken up about it overall—immortality was never really his goal anyway, though he had kind of wanted it. He's happy enough having fulfilled his childhood dream, found out an age-old legend was real, and even met an age-old legend.

Of course, he'd feel even more satisfied if he could tell Zhivago all about it…but this is good enough. This is just one of the many adventures he's had since he left his shitty hometown, and he's sure there are countless more waiting for him in the future! Now he just needs to find his treasure, which fell out of his pack around the fourth time the Fairy King tried to off him, and he'll be on his way.

Except that, then, the Fairy King has to go and make himself interesting.

For all that he looks like the sort of angel-faced brat that would have old ladies fighting to the death for a chance to pinch his cheeks, King's disdainful expressions can get impressively scathing. Ban assumed at first that King looked down on him for the same reasons others always have: because Ban looks like a thug, because his speech patterns betray his low-class upbringing, because he's a dirt-poor bandit with ideas above his station. But King's contempt seems aimed at the human race in general, instead of Bandit Ban in particular, and Ban can't deny he's curious about the story there.

Ban has no doubt that King would be a terrifying opponent to anyone he believes to be a serious threat to his people, but he seems almost shockingly softhearted otherwise. He tried to kill Ban for trespassing and presuming to steal the Fountain of Youth, sure, but it was nothing personal, and he didn't try to make it hurt. King then easily bowed to his Forest's wishes as if it were his overindulged child, even though it apparently wanted him to protect Ban, absurdly enough. He asked Ban about his reasons for coveting eternal life, instead of assuming that Ban was just another greedy thief, and actually listened when Ban explained himself. Then he even attempted to raise Ban's spirits in his own comically roundabout way. And when he lost his temper after Ban pressed the wrong button, he revealed depths of self-loathing, guilt and loneliness that mirror Ban's.

King is scarily powerful and scarily old, but he's interesting, amusingly dishonest about his own feelings, and nice—probably nicer than Ban deserves, given how much he already enjoys needling the fairy. Ban has never met a person like him before…and that's all it takes for Ban to decide that maybe he'll stay here a while after all. He doesn't think it would be so bad, getting to know such an entertaining, lonely, kind fool~.

And judging by the look of relieved delight he glimpses on King's face, before the fairy hastily schools it into a scowl, when Ban returns and begins to show him his magnificent ale label collection… Ban doesn't think King will mind too much if he sticks around.

---

For a guy so good at keeping his composure in battle, King is downright awful at hiding his interest when Ban's telling him about the world outside the Fairy King's Forest.

King makes it a point to always sit two handspans away from Ban, curled up with his pillow clutched between his chest and pulled-up knees in an unmistakably defensive posture. But whenever Ban turns a new page in his treasure, King will crane his neck not-so-discreetly to inspect whatever new label Ban's showing him, eyes bright with curiosity. Then, he'll suddenly remember that he's supposed to be bored with the whole thing and glance off to the side with poorly feigned nonchalance—but he's fooling no one, and probably knows it. It's hilarious, as is the way he flushes and sputters before resorting to ineffectually hitting a laughing Ban with his pillow when Ban calls him out on it. Ban knows King could do much worse to him if he was really angry, after all.

In between describing the different kinds of ale he's had the chance to try during his travels, Ban tells King about the places he's seen and wandered through, the local delicacies he's discovered, the beasts—magical or otherwise—he's run into and defeated and sometimes made meals out of. King drinks it all in with a look of studied indifference that does nothing to hide the excitement and engrossment in his eyes. He also proves, again, to be ridiculously nice by not pointing out the obvious lack of stories about Ban interacting with people without swindling them.

(King does try to scold Ban for the pride he takes in his criminal escapades... But it's not all that convincing when Ban can hear his smothered snickers whenever he recounts the more inventive ways he liberated coin from the snootier nobles and merchants he crossed paths with.)

Days pass, soon a full week, and Ban somehow finds himself not regretting his decision to stay. Even the wanderlust that's been gnawing at his bones incessantly since he first left Ravens seems to have all but vanished.

Somehow, he feels perfectly content spending his days hanging out in a giant mythical tree, steps away from a priceless treasure he doesn't intend to steal, with a childish-looking figure of legend who's amusingly terrible at pretending he doesn't like Ban's stories—doesn't like Ban—as much as he clearly does.

What's even stranger than Ban not wanting to leave is that King doesn't seem to want him to, either. Even though he's been by Ban's side constantly for a week now, and knows about both Ban's humble roots and most of the not-so-legal mischief he's gotten up to.

Whenever they both settle down for the night, King even condescends to actually ask Ban questions about his life, and life in the human world in general—perhaps because he only feels comfortable enough to admit he enjoys Ban's tales under the cover of darkness, or perhaps because he just becomes chattier when tired. Sometimes, King even shares a few stories about his own life, his friends and family. Two names always come up when he does: Elaine, his little sister, and Helbram, his best friend. But it doesn't sound like he sees them often, since they spend most of their time in the Fairy King's Forest proper instead of here in the human realm, on the Sacred Tree.

(Ban knows loneliness when he hears it. Hell, he'd say he's an expert by now—he hasn't made a single friend since he lost Zhivago as a brat. But he returns the favour by not calling King out on it, either.)

"Helbram told me a long time ago that humans like to fight over 'number one'," King reveals one night, the same way he always does: like he's imparting a great secret on Ban, like he thinks the Sacred Tree will smite him where he stands if he dares show too much interest in the world outside the Forest. "We tried racing for it, and I won, but I still didn't really get it. Helbram said that 'number one' is about what's most precious to you. Is that really all there is to it?"

That's a very fairy-like way of looking at it, Ban thinks with an unaccountably fond smirk. Just a few days with King was enough for him to understand that fairies honestly don't understand the hang-ups other races have over pride or greed. They just don't get why outsiders, like humans or giants, always feel a need to be known as the best, or to have the best and the most. It's stupidly endearing.

If King has somehow managed to retain some kind of innocence after whatever incident destroyed his faith in humans, Ban doesn't want to be the one to ruin it by informing King that humans challenge each other for power, rank and money far more often than to protect something precious. So all he says is, "Who knows. Just 'cause I'm one of 'em doesn't mean I always understand humans, King~ I can't read people's minds like you can, y'know!"

King huffs in exasperation and probably shame, and says nothing for a few moments. Ban didn't give a damn when King confessed he had already used that particular Fairy Clan ability on him, but King obviously still feels guilty anyway.

When King speaks again, he's noticeably quieter, more thoughtful. "My 'number one' is protecting the Fairy King's Forest, and all the fairies who dwell in it, and my sister, and my best friend." He rattles it all off so smoothly that Ban realises this must be the mantra King recites to motivate himself whenever the ache of solitude overwhelms him, out here where his people visit him so rarely.

Then, calmly, as if he isn't asking a life-changing question Ban has never allowed himself to think about before, King goes on:

"What's yours, Ban?"

Ban slowly lets his head roll to the side until he can see the fairy lying close by on his ridiculous pillow, legs crossed and arms supporting his fluffy head. King's profile is hard to discern in the faint starlight that pierces through the Sacred Tree's canopy, but Ban can see that he's smiling, a sad, wistful expression despite his nonchalant posture. King's jewel-like eyes are half-lidded, gazing absently into the distance even as he listens patiently, attentively for Ban's answer.

This, Ban thinks with a sort of aghast wonder. All of this. You.

Of course, what he actually says is, "Ale, of course~! Kakakah, do you even have to ask?", and he isn't surprised to feel a pillow smash into his face a second later.

Their conversations aren't always so emotionally charged, though. They grow lighter over time as King becomes more comfortable with admitting to interest in Ban's life and experiences, and Ban grows more and more shameless in his teasing.

Ban takes to stealing King's weird magical pillow ("It's called Chastiefol, dammit! Chastiefol!") and taunting King into playing tug-of-war for it, and King can't hate it too much since he never just levitates the thing out of Ban's grasp or straight-up stabs Ban for the audacity. The game ends when one of them gets tired—by which he means King, who's got all the strength and stamina of a hamster—at which point they'll usually settle down for a nap. They go foraging for food together, never straying far from the Sacred Tree, and Ban doesn't bother hiding his smugness when he unfailingly manages to wow King with his cooking. Ban teaches King how to play cards, and gets his ass kicked half a dozen times before he realises he never told King not to read his mind. They stargaze on King's pillow on clear nights, King fascinated by all the stories humans came up with for the different constellations—fairies never even bothered naming any of them, apparently. But they spend most of their time continuing to work their way through Ban's ale label collection, King slowly growing more animated throughout the hours of Ban's storytelling: gasping and looking visibly impressed several times—even laughing once, before remembering himself and clamming up in embarrassment.

King teaches Ban a bit about his Forest: its history and King's own role in it, tips like where to find the clearest drinking water or the ripest berries. Once, Ban complains that he gets cold at night wearing only a light jacket that bares his midriff, and wakes up the next morning to find that he's mysteriously migrated onto the pillow's giant stuffed bear form beside a snoozing King, the bear's limbs wrapped warmly around him. Another day, Ban strips down and decides to bathe in the Fountain of Youth, and has a grand old time cackling as a brightly flushing King struggles to pull him out of it… Right up 'til King gets fed up and uses his magic to pluck him out of the Fountain and send him flying off the Sacred Tree once more, for old time's sake. Ban ends up with scratches in unmentionable places when a holly tree breaks his fall, and gets his revenge by mentioning them, repeatedly and unabashedly, until King screeches and speeds away to float up where Ban's voice can't reach him, burying a glowing red face in his pillow.

Ban makes fun of King's clothes and, after he explains to the confused fairy exactly how old-fashioned they are by human standards, somehow isn't surprised to wake up the following day and see King clad in an entirely different, much more modern ensemble. "I made this myself! I used to wear it all the time, before…" he explains proudly before trailing off, suddenly somber.

But for once, Ban is too preoccupied to really register this latest reference to the mysterious event that caused King to distrust humans so much, which King still refuses to talk about.

The little boots on King's dainty feet are horrendously adorable. The tight, overlong sleeves of his dark undershirt make his arms look delicate, and his hands tiny and fair. The jacket's orange accents bring out the otherworldly amber colour of his eyes. The whole outfit is just a bit too unusual to pass for something your average human would wear, but somehow makes King look endearingly quirky instead of strange. He looks approachable now, more like a normal guy who just happens to be able to fly than the Third Fairy King, Harlequin. And he looks…cute.

Ban isn't an idiot, and while he may be an excellent liar he always makes it a point not to lie to himself. He likes King. He's shared more of himself with King than he has with anyone since Zhivago, and—no matter how much King grumbles under his breath about annoying, conceited bandits when Ban narrates his adventures—King has unfalteringly accepted all of it, taking Ban exactly as he is, ever since they first met. Ban enjoys teasing King, likes the funny reactions he can get out of him, but above all he likes the fact that he can ramble on at King for hours and King won't tune him out, won't get bored, and especially won't look at him like he's something lower than King.

In King's eyes, he isn't Bandit Ban, the lowlife born and raised in Ravens, but Irritating (But Not So Bad I Guess, Not That I'll Ever Admit It) Human Ban.

King sometimes actually cries in sympathy for Ban's victims when Ban recounts some of his crueler pranks, but he never scorns Ban for his mean-spirited antics—only subjects Ban to longwinded, sanctimonious scoldings, gripes when Ban insults him in return, and then pretends, badly, that he isn't impatient for Ban's next tale. And even then, King only scolds him because he honestly thinks that Ban is at heart a good person who could be kinder if he only let himself. Somehow, King believes in Ban when no one but Zhivago ever has, not even Ban.

Ban has never felt this way about anyone before, but he can't complain about his taste: King is kind, entertaining, pretty and powerful, and likes Ban the way he is. Like all thieves, Ban has an eye for treasure, and he refuses to deny himself this one out of bashfulness or stubborn pride when he's already in so deep that he can't imagine his life without King anymore.

He's fallen for the fussy old fart. Which works out well, really, because he's pretty sure King feels the same way.

The guy truly is a terrible actor, after all~.

---

"Big Brother, would you care to tell me what in the world is going on here?"

Harlequin has been the Fairy King for most of his very long life. He was chosen for the position by the Sacred Tree itself, and soon learned to wield its power and its spirit spear with enough skill to lay waste to armies. His magic allows him control over life and death. In the wider world he is a legend, an eternal, mighty and fearsome guard to the Fairy King's Forest that no human ruler would dare challenge without battalions of Holy Knights at their side. Even Harlequin's people believe that his power is without equal, that he fears nothing and no one.

His sister scares him far more than those battalions of Holy Knights ever could.

As he freezes all over like a hunted rabbit, Harlequin calls himself a thousand kinds of idiot. He knew that Elaine was due to visit him soon—she always makes sure to drop by and check on him at least once a month, and it's been almost four weeks since he last saw her—and sure, he would've had no way to hide Ban's presence from her even if he had remembered she was coming, and he didn't want to treat his new friend like a dirty secret anyway… But at least he could've tried to make sure she didn't see him like this.

As soon as he realised it ruffled Harlequin's feathers like nothing else, Ban took to stealing Chastiefol at every opportunity, parking his very long, very heavy body down on it so that, no matter how hard King heaved and pulled, he could never free it. Of course, Harlequin could easily have turned it into its spear or Increase forms to retrieve it, but Ban would've likely gotten injured in the process, and humans are nowhere near as durable as fairies. So Harlequin's only options were to either engage in pointless games of tug-of-war with an all too amused Ban, or give up and sprawl over Ban instead of Chastiefol, as the bandit was clearly aiming for.

So when Elaine barges in on them, Ban is sitting comfortably on Chastiefol, pointing at the Bernia ale label in his collection and recounting a particularly unbelievable-sounding adventure involving six highwaymen and a squirrel; while Harlequin lies draped over his back with his arms around Ban's neck and his head angled to peek over the man's broad shoulder, listening intently. So intently that he didn't even hear or feel his sister coming, even though his senses are some of the sharpest the Fairy Clan has ever bred.

In conclusion, Elaine is seeing her brother, the Fairy King, who has always loudly professed his distrust of humans and has grown ever more venomous about it over the past seven centuries…snuggling cosily with a human at the top of the Sacred Tree, not two feet away from the Fountain of Youth. She's entitled to a little disbelief.

"Ah, E-Elaine!" Harlequin exclaims, going for jovial but cringing when the waver in his voice leaves his guilt more than obvious. "I-I forgot you were coming by this week… Er, it's good to see you!"

Elaine isn't fooled for a second, keeping a steady glare on him and Ban both even as she slowly, decisively crosses her arms over her chest in a mute demand for answers. Harlequin lasts for about ten seconds under that look before the whole explanation comes tumbling out of him in one long stream of anxious babble.

"—and he's been staying here ever since," Harlequin finishes several minutes later, shrinking more and more into himself as Elaine's expression remains stern all throughout his panicked recount of the last few weeks. "But he hasn't tried anything since the first day, I swear! Ban may be a jerk, but he's harmless. The Tree and I would've never let him stay otherwise!"

For a few long moments, everything is silent, and Harlequin finds himself sweating bullets as he awaits Elaine's response. Only when Ban emits a small, choked sound does Harlequin realise his arms have tightened around Ban's neck until he's almost strangling the human, and he hastily lets go, noticing Elaine's frown relax a fraction as he does. Still, Harlequin stays close to Ban—not because he fears that Elaine might attack the human, but because he doesn't want Ban to think that his sister's good opinion matters more to Harlequin than their friendship.

The fairy siblings have ever raised a hand to each other in anger, nor would they ever. What has Harlequin so uneasy isn't fear of Elaine getting violent, but the realisation that Elaine's silence and pinched expression mean she isn't merely shocked or angry at him. She's disappointed. She feels that he's let her down, and that hurts more than any bossy scolding about his recklessness ever could.

Elaine keeps a gimlet eye on Harlequin's slowly drooping form for a few more long moments before she turns implacable gold-coin eyes on Ban instead. She and the human steadily watch each other, Ban's face more unreadable than Harlequin has ever seen it and his large hand twitching with what Harlequin assumes is the urge to reach defensively for his weapon. The tension between fairy and human is somehow even tauter than that between brother and sister, and Harlequin feels sweat bead on his forehead as he waits for something to give.

Finally, something does when Elaine huffs out a short, displeased hmph and her eyes flash an even brighter yellow. Ban still doesn't move to defend himself, even though he knows by now what it means when a fairy's eyes take on that glow. He just remains in that deceptively casual seated position, which Harlequin knows he could spring out of and into a ready crouch in seconds, and allows Elaine to read his heart.

On tenterhooks, Harlequin waits for her scowl to ease and flip over into a welcoming smile. After all, where Harlequin gives out his trust easily but will hold centuries-long grudges if it's ever betrayed—Elaine is more discriminating, but also far quicker to forgive. She was never as excited to learn about humans as Helbram or even Harlequin, but retains a far better impression of the short-lived race than Harlequin does after what happened seven hundred years ago. His sister is a sweet, open-minded woman who will surely discern the purity of Ban's soul even more quickly than Harlequin did, and offer him her hand in friendship.

But that's not what happens. When the shine in her eyes dims, she's scowling even more deeply than before, her cheeks flushed with the same overprotective fury she's always directed at anyone who dared threaten her weak-hearted older brother. Harlequin can guess what she's about to say before the first syllable even passes her lips: "Big Brother, why don't you go see Helbram and Gerheade for a bit? I'd like to have a quick chat with your new…friend."

Harlequin's eyes rapidly flick back and forth between the ominous glower on Elaine's face and the careful neutrality of Ban's. He's really not sure he should be leaving the two of them alone together. He doesn't think they'll harm each other, but feels a lump form in his throat at the thought that maybe, just maybe Elaine will run Ban off with mere words. Maybe she'll pelt the human with a tirade so scathing that Ban will get fed up, grab his pack, and move on—leaving the Forest behind, leaving Harlequin behind without a word. Maybe Harlequin will come back and find Ban gone, find himself left to his solitude as the Sacred Tree's guardian again… The loneliness he had thought himself doomed to until Ban came along and saved him, without even seeming to realise what his steady presence at Harlequin's side meant to him.

But going against Elaine when she uses that tone has never ended well for Harlequin. And he really should go and check on the Forest proper, anyway. Being Fairy King isn't just about protecting the Sacred Tree and the Forest from intruders, but also governing its inhabitants and keeping the peace between them. Harlequin generally trusts Gerheade to handle minor issues and disputes and fetch him if he's needed, but it does boost morale in his people to see him fly among them once in a while. Those of his subjects who lost their wings so long ago, and even those who barely escaped that fate, especially, seem to derive a sense of safety from his visits.

And it'll be good to spend some time with Helbram. Harlequin's best friend makes an effort to visit him at his post sometimes, but Helbram's trauma is still so acute that it's difficult for him to return to the human realm, even though they always stay on the Sacred Tree.

"…Alright," Harlequin concedes, still somewhat dubiously. "I'll be back before sundown, then."

He keeps throwing concerned glances over his shoulder as he glides away, but neither Ban nor Elaine seem to be making aggressive motions towards each other so far. So Harlequin reluctantly leaves the Sacred Tree behind, trying not to wonder if it'll still be in one piece—if there will still be anyone waiting for him there—when he gets back.

(As he leaves, it doesn't even occur to Harlequin to find it odd that, even though Elaine showed clear suspicion towards Ban after reading his thoughts, Harlequin himself didn't waver in his belief in Ban for a second.

Everything about Ban is large and loud and knife-edged. He speaks his mind roughly, without regard for courtesy, and rarely bothers to control his volume. He's incredibly tall and, while not overwhelmingly brawny, he's packed all the way through with lean, hard muscle that looks especially intimidating to a race that relies on magic instead of physical strength in combat. Ban's eyes are big and red, lined with black like a beast's; his features, his hair and even his teeth are sharp. Frankly, he looks like a villain. To your average human, he's intimidating; to pretty much any fairy, he's downright scary.

Harlequin hasn't even known Ban a full month, and already he trusts him with his life, his sister's life, and the livelihood and home of his people. Somehow, this doesn't feel strange at all.)

---

Harlequin has a lot on his mind as he drifts back towards the Sacred Tree, helped along by playful air currents that tug at his clothing and ruffle his hair but do little to lift his mood.

In the end, he didn't tell Helbram about Ban. Helbram has been growing more stable over the past few centuries, but he still has bad days. Days when a single mention of humans in his presence can have him ranting and raving, crying hysterically, or even trying to harm himself. If he learned that Harlequin was spending so much time with a human, one that Harlequin willingly allows so close to himself and to the Fountain of Youth, even while he's asleep… Well, Helbram would first check him for a fever, and then promptly chase Ban away with extreme prejudice—if not outright kill him—before making sure Harlequin never left his sight again.

But he and Helbram have never had trouble finding things to talk about even when one of them is keeping a secret; so as soon as Harlequin was done checking in with Gerheade, they both found a cosy cluster of giant mushrooms and chatted for a long while. And it was fun, at first, to catch up with his best friend and find out what mischief he'd been up to lately—more wonderful still, to hear that Helbram felt safe and happy enough nowadays to cause mischief at all. But then their conversation turned to more serious topics, and soon, they were revisiting an old disagreement that neither of them has ever been willing to back down on.

Helbram disapproves of Harlequin's decision to take up indefinite vigil in the Sacred Tree since that horrible day seven hundred years ago. "You're torturing yourself over nothing, Harlequin," Helbram insists, every time this particular argument comes up again. "What happened back then wasn't your fault! None of us ever blamed you for it, and punishing yourself like this isn't healthy!"

But Harlequin knows that he could literally stab Helbram through the chest with Chastiefol and Helbram would still tell him not to feel guilty, that it isn't his fault. Helbram has always been his greatest supporter, and not even because he's the Fairy King. It's not that Harlequin can do no wrong in his eyes, but Helbram has always been far too lenient in his judgment of Harlequin's many mistakes, and this is just another instance of that. No matter how often Helbram tells him that he and the other fairies who followed him back then deliberately didn't inform Harlequin of their leaving, that Helbram was the one who was naive enough to trust that despicable human organ trafficker—Harlequin can't help but feel that he should've figured out they were missing sooner, should've been quicker in coming to their rescue, should've been more vigilant and not allowed them to be taken at all.

Harlequin failed them so terribly that day. Six of his people had their wings torn off, slowly, agonisingly, so the wings wouldn't be damaged in the process. The other dozens, including Harlequin's best friend, were left to watch their kinsmen writhe and shriek in anguish—certain that they would soon meet the same fate and yet bravely throwing themselves over and over at the enchanted iron bars of their cages as they struggled to get out, to help their suffering friends somehow. Even after King obliterated their tormentors, healed their injuries with Pollen Garden and brought them home, some of them wouldn't speak for months, others refused to leave his side, and one even almost killed herself, unable to cope with the loss of her wings. So much blood was shed that day, all because Harlequin just wasn't good enough.

What Helbram probably doesn't realise is that the wards around the Fairy King's Forest aren't infallible. Even though all fairykind makes sure, now, to never stray past said wards, they still aren't completely safe. After all, while Harlequin was chosen to protect the Sacred Tree, the Sacred Tree is what protects the Fairy Clan: it is its power that prevents any intruders near the Tree itself from even glimpsing the vast, densely populated realm that sprawls beyond it.

But the Sacred Tree itself is in plain sight. There's even a human town, a fairly popular tourism destination, just a few leagues away. Should one of those intruders ever get their hands on the Fountain of Youth, the Sacred Tree would wither, and its protections around the Fairy King's Forest would fall. The Fairy Clan would be left exposed, homeless and defenceless.

Guarding the Sacred Tree indefinitely is the least Harlequin can do as penance for his sins. Sure, it's a lonely duty, and sure, it gets more than a little boring sometimes. But it's the only way he can be absolutely certain that none of his people will ever be hurt by humans again.

What's bothering Harlequin now isn't the rehashing of his and Helbram's age-old disagreement for the umpteenth time, but instead the fact that… This time, Harlequin found himself putting much less heart in his counter-arguments than he ever has in seven centuries. And, Harlequin decides as he reaches the top of the Sacred Tree and gently alights before the Fountain, it's all because of Ban. It's all Ban's fault that Harlequin is wavering in his determination to continue his self-appointed vigil for the first time…that Harlequin's burning resentment for the entire human race has started to cool…that his ever-present loneliness has eased at last, even all but disappeared…

It's all that stupid Ban's fault, Harlequin decides with a reluctant twitch of a smile.

He only feels a short spike of annoyed worry at finding that both Ban and Elaine left the Fountain of Youth unguarded while he was gone. Above all, he's just relieved that Ban wasn't driven away in his absence. Ban's precious ale label collection is still right there, after all: even if he had left without a word, he never would've left his treasure behind.

Harlequin picks up the worn journal, and slowly opens it to the page Ban marked with a pressed daisy. He traces an idle finger over the label within, its colours looking especially vibrant in the light of the setting sun. Bernia—a village Harlequin had never even heard of until Ban came into his life. A village he finds himself hoping he could, if thing were different, one day see for himself… But no.

The Fairy King's Forest, the Fairy Clan: they are both still Harlequin's priorities. He still feels the pull of guilt, the desire for penance he's endured for seven centuries, and the pull of far freer, purer protectiveness he's felt towards his beautiful home since his birth—both binding him securely, inextricably, to the Forest and all of its inhabitants. But for the first time in his very long existence, Harlequin...no, King isn't satisfied with just that.

He doesn't feel fulfilled anymore by just being the Fairy King, just doing his duty for the Sacred Tree and his people, spending all his time alone and tortured with regrets. He wants Ban to stay by his side to keep his loneliness at bay, to tease him and challenge him and enchant him with his wild stories. To calm him down with a big, warm hand patting his head and a carefree, crooked smirk. He wants to discover the wider world Ban has told him so much about, to explore it and make countless new memories with Ban, perhaps see if other kinds of ale won't knock him out as quickly as the Aberdeen did weeks ago. King wants…more than what he's always been content with before. Even though he knows he could never neglect his responsibility to the Sacred Tree and the Fairy Clan like that, he still wants.

This, he realises with mingled dread and fascination, must be what greed feels like.

He shouldn't be thinking this way, though. He feels like a monster for it. After failing his people so irreparably, he still has the nerve to wish for more than he deserves? He'll never be able to atone for his sin, even if he were to spend his whole life trying—and yet here he is, daring to dream of freedom and adventure when he knows full well he has no right to either. And even though he's repenting for his selfishness right now, that shameful longing for more still lingers in his heart.

"I'm despicable…" he whines to himself as he curls around Chastiefol, resting his cheek against its soft, flower-scented fabric. "But even so, I'd still like to see it…the outside world. If humans like Ban exist, then maybe…"

"Ooooh~?" a dreadfully familiar voice suddenly drawls from behind him, making King screech and jump out of his skin. "Then maybe I'll snatch you up, since I couldn't get my hands on the Fountain of Youth. "

King whips around faster than he ever has even in the middle of battle—and feels himself blush fifteen shades of red, clutching Chastiefol defensively, when his eyes meet the amused red ones of the human looming over him. "B-B-B-B-Ban! How long have you been standing there?!"

"Long enough. Looks like your hearing's going already, eh, old fart?" King scowls at the jab, but his cheeks still feel so hot that he's not surprised to see Ban just leer in response. "So, how 'bout it~? Want me to show you the world, Fairy King? Since I'm such a trustworthy human~"

Instantly, King's mood sours. "Don't make fun of me," he snaps, more hurt, now, than embarrassed. "I know I can't just leave my responsibilities behind to play around in the human world! I know I shouldn't even want to! I'm a failure as a Fairy King…" He hesitates for a moment, then finally admits, his voice small and pathetic as he buries his face in Chastiefol, "I just wish that, when you leave…I could come with you."

Ban doesn't say anything for a while, then heaves a sigh that makes King flinch and his head jerk up to glare at the human, angry words on the tip of his tongue. But for once, the foxlike smirk on Ban's lips is replaced with an earnest look that's completely void of mockery. "I'm being serious, you know~. You're a goody-two-shoes, but you're not boring or annoying like most people. And…you're the first person to really listen to what I have to say."

Then, instantly ruining the touching mood his uncommonly kind words created, Ban grins widely, slinging an arm around King's shoulders and pulling him flush against his chest. "And you know, I heard a lot of 'I can't, I can't,' but you never said 'I don't want to'~ Kakah, you really are a dishonest old geezer! "

""That— I don't— You can't—" King sputters, feeling his blush roar back to life full force as he pounds his small fists ineffectually against Ban's rocklike torso. "Idiot Ban! Stupid Ban! You know it's not that simple! And another thing—"

Ban yawns widely, ignoring King's struggling and scolding like he doesn't even notice them—and he probably doesn't, rude, hulking ogre that he is. "Yeah, yeah, whatever~. You'd never leave your kingdom and your clan behind to have fun by yourself, I get it." Then, with a wolfish grin, he bends down close enough that their noses almost brush together, and King finds himself frozen, struck dumb by the uncommon intensity in Ban's berry-red eyes.

"But if I selfishly steal you away like the evil bandit I am, they'll have nothing to blame you for, will they? "

It takes several long moments for King to snap out of his daze and rip his gaze away from Ban's. He's blushing again, if he ever really stopped, and there's a light feeling in his chest that makes it very hard to fight down a smile. He does his best to scowl, but his voice comes out embarrassingly soft anyway. "I'm not something that can be stolen, you brute! The Fairy King belongs to everyone in the Fairy Clan, not to you."

"For now, maybe~ " Ban concedes as he leans back until he's sprawled out on on the soft moss by the Fountain of Youth, King still clutched greedily to his chest. "But one day, Harlequin…I'll definitely make you mine."

King stays silent. But the mere fact that he doesn't object probably says enough.

---

Ban likes to think that he's pretty strong for a normal human; when that isn't enough, his Snatch ability allows him to steal others' power to make up for the lack of his own. He's fast and resilient, good at handling pain after a childhood of getting the shit routinely kicked out of him, and definitely not afraid to fight dirty.

So why is it that he's always so fucking helpless when the only people he cares about are in danger?!

He wasn't able to save Kilia from starving to death, wasn't able to save Zhivago from whatever put that despairing look on his face before he disappeared from Ban's life. And now King is facing off against a towering, hideous mass of flabby red flesh whose aura is so wretched and dark that Ban has to constantly swallow back the bile threatening to crawl up his throat—and Ban is completely unable to help King in any meaningful way. His attempts to at least slow the demon down so King can finish it off all prove so ineffective that he might as well be a mouse trying to challenge a tyrant dragon.

King looks just as afraid and frustrated as Ban feels, but at least he's managing to deal the thing actual damage.

In contrast to the demon's acrid, foul magic, King's is deep and mighty and weighty with life, like nature in its purest form. Ban now understands how much King was actually holding back when they first met, because his powers are so much more varied and extensive than simple levitation that Ban is starting to see where all those legends about the Fairy King's devastating prowess on the battlefield came from. King's silly green pillow switches seamlessly between forms each deadlier than the last, cutting the demon to pieces, petrifying parts of it, stabbing it all over like a pincushion, blasting it with beams of concentrated sunlight… And every time, the demon balks and howls in pain, but its wounds all heal over in a matter of seconds, and then it just keeps on attacking, destroying more and more of the Sacred Tree and the Fairy King's Forest even as King struggles hopelessly to protect them.

Ban's doing as much as he can to turn the battle around in King's favour, ripping deep gashes in the monster's flesh with Banishing Kill and ripping off a limb or two with Fox Hunt at opportune times, but he ultimately can't afford to draw too much of the demon's attention to himself. Why? Because King, the clever, overprotective bastard, shoved the Fountain of Youth into Ban's hands at the beginning of the battle and asked him to keep it safe. The old geezer knew perfectly well that Ban would never betray his trust by putting the Fountain in danger with reckless attacks, and took advantage of that to make sure that Ban wouldn't risk his life coming to King's aid—not when the lives of the entire Fairy Clan also depend on his caution.

Thanks to Elaine, Ban knows now about King's regrets, the reason behind his obsessive guarding of the Sacred Tree and the obvious guilt complex that leads him to disregard his own safety and wellbeing at every turn. But he had hoped to find the time to train King out of it eventually, at least when it came to Ban—to make him understand that Ban doesn't need or want such sacrifice, not from King, not ever.

Now, though, King is repeatedly, tirelessly throwing himself in harm's way for Ban's sake, and it's exactly as infuriating as Ban expected. King would rather die than let this monster harm Ban, his Forest or any of his people. And he clearly doesn't understand that Ban would rather let this monster squash him like a bug than have King die for him.

So Ban is forced to wait, wringing his hands like a fucking damsel-in-distress, for the person he loves to either defeat the demon or get himself killed trying. The worst part is that Ban's pretty sure King could make short work of the ugly beast, if only he didn't have so much to protect while trying to off the damned thing.

King can't afford to haphazardly deflect the demon's attacks when the the Forest is already in such peril, and so he has to either take them head-on or redirect them towards the sky; the Sacred Tree's pink canopy has long since burned to ash overhead. King has to take frequent breaks from striking at the demon to put out some of the blazing hellfire that's already burned down entire swathes of the Forest and is spreading more by the second, and the demon has no qualms about aiming more white-hot blasts of power at King while his attention is divided. King's small, fragile-looking body is astoundingly sturdy—he's already taken countless hits that would've definitely had Ban down for the count, possibly forever, and gotten back up—but he doesn't have the goddamned beast's frankly insane regenerative abilities and stamina, and it's obvious he's started slowing down.

Thankfully for Ban's nerves, King is suicidally devoted enough to defending his Forest and his people that he seems to realise this as well and takes to the skies to catch his breath: he's the Fairy Clan's first and last line of defence, after all, and if he falls, they'll all be sitting ducks. But the blasted demon just sprouts a pair of grotesque black wings and follows King without pause. Ban curses viciously under his breath and Snatches off a few of the demon's toes, even a leg—but it doesn't even spare him a glance as they grow back, too preoccupied with putting King further and further on the defensive as it chases him through the air, several of its misaimed attacks creating more blazing chaos all around.

In a haze of panicked, enraged worry, Ban distantly wonders why the creature's so intent on destroying King in the first place: because he attacked it and pissed it off, or because its real objective is the destruction of the Forest and King is in its way? Is it even intelligent enough to have a goal at all, or is it just aimlessly razing everything in its sight? Hell, what's it even doing existing when even uneducated bandits like Ban know that the Demon Clan was sealed away three thousand years ago?

But ultimately, the answers to all those questions are immaterial. What really matters is that this thing is harming King, might manage to actually kill him at this rate if it continues to wear him down…and that the dumb beast has just exposed a wide open back to Ban, and consequently Ban's handy-dandy Fox Hunt~.

Ban feels such deep relief when its enormous heart soars through the night sky, reeled back by Ban's glowing staff to land in his palm with a fleshy squelch, that his knees almost buckle under its weight. He watches with vicious delight as the monster's movements halt and its body starts to plummet back down towards the Sacred Tree. He turns his head to aim a smirk at King, a cocky You're welcome, old fart already on the tip of his tongue—

"NO, BAN! All demons have more than one heart!l"

Ban barely has the time to make out King's desperate scream before the demon suddenly twists to face him in mid-fall, displaying incredible agility for such a heavy creature. Its terrible, beady little eyes land unerringly on Ban and begin to glow with the prelude to its destructive light beams. Ban starts to curl into himself in a last-ditch attempt to protect the Fountain of Youth with his body; but then a small, messy-haired figure materialises in front of Ban between two blinks, so fast it's almost like it teleported there—a cloud of small floating daggers swarms around like bees before it, but it won't be enough to shield them—

There's an explosion of light before Ban's eyes—King's petite shadow cutting through it, its outline seared into Ban's retinas—

Pain.

Ban feels his entire right arm and shoulder flap loosely from the rest of his mangled upper body and knows with distant, numb certainty, as he topples to the ash-covered ground, that he has only minutes left to live. But never mind that—where has King gotten to? Ban was only able to watch helplessly as a hole was blasted straight through the fairy's tiny torso—he was showered with King's scalding blood—he heard King fall too, but where? Where?! Ban needs to look for him, but his strength is leaving him as quickly as his lifeblood. He struggles with all his might against his failing body to slowly roll his head from side to side, glancing around frantically for King—

There he is, lying on his front a little ways behind Ban, countless Chastiefol daggers buried to the hilt in the Sacred Tree's charred bark around him. Some are even embedded into his body. Ban doesn't know if it's blood or vomit that fills his throat when he realises he can see the mossy ground under King through King's wrecked chest; he just spits it up to clear his airways, wanting so badly to speak, to ask King if he's alright—no, stupid question: to ask if King can recover from something like this—

King's body twitches, a harsh, wet cough rattling his whole frame, and he slowly pushes himself up onto his elbows.

His amber eyes are filled with tears, hazy with exhaustion and agony, but the lines of his sweet face are still hard with determination as he looks around until his gaze meet Ban's. "Ba…n," King rasps with both relief and horrified concern, which doesn't surprise Ban. He probably makes a hell of a sight right now, almost cut in half as he is.

Ban smirks wryly back at King, fierce joy sparking to life in his ruined torso even as more blood-or-bile slips past his lips, and wonders why he even bothered worrying at all. King is the strongest person Ban has ever met. Like hell he'd let some brainless demon mook take him down so easily, even with extra baggage like Ban to protect.

King starts dragging himself towards Ban—slowly and painfully, but he does. Despite his blasted-through torso and the knives stabbed through various parts of his limbs, he doesn't let out so much as a whimper. King is so heavily injured that any normal human would be dead by now, or at least too busy howling in agony to think coherently—but he's still moving, he's still fighting, and it's that hardiness that gives Ban hope that King will survive this.

Because by some crazy miracle, the Fountain of Youth is still clutched securely in Ban's unharmed left hand.

Ban does his best to gather enough of his scattered wits to send encouraging thoughts at King. He eagerly pours all of his remaining strength into stretching his arm back just that little bit more, extending the ornate cup as far in King's direction as he can. He can't say that the idea of drinking its contents himself doesn't cross his mind, but it's quickly overshadowed by the desperate, punch-drunk relief that would probably have him laughing hysterically if his right lung wasn't bisected right down the middle. Sure, Ban isn't exactly thrilled to be dying now, when he's got his whole life ahead of him and has finally met someone who makes it worth living—but he gladly will if it means that King, who almost threw away his own life to protect Ban, will survive. King tried to keep him out of the fight because he knew Ban didn't have the information or experience necessary to be of any help, knew that Ban might well get himself killed trying, but Ban was overconfident and King paid the price for it. Ban can only thank every higher power he's ever heard of that he's not going into the grave knowing that he caused the death of the one he loves.

At last, King is close enough to stop his painful crawling, and he slowly, carefully reaches forward with a trembling hand to pry the Fountain from Ban's grip. He drags himself up to his knees, tears cutting clear paths down his soot-stained cheeks; he grasps the cup with both hands, throws his head back and drinks until pink life-giving liquid dribbles messily down his chin. Ban watches with mingled contentment and wistfulness, before finally allowing his eyes to close, feeling his torturous breathing slow to a halt. King is safe now. Since he won't have to worry about protecting Ban or the Fountain anymore, he'll be able to kick that bastard demon's ass right back to its seal and save the Forest in no time…

Ban's eyes snap right back open. There are lips on his, soft and cold, so cold. King is leaning over him, kissing him, he realises dimly as he just barely manages to make out the blurry sight of King's closed eyes just a hairsbreadth away from his stunned red ones, the fairy's dark tawny eyelashes clumped together with tears and blood. The sweetest water Ban has ever tasted pours down from King's open mouth into his own, and Ban's parched throat works to swallow it all before he can stop to think of what it must be. The moment he registers what King's doing, he tries to protest, to push him off, but his body is too weak, he's in too much pain, he's—

—already starting to recover.

King's lips are a silky whisper against Ban's as he slowly pulls away from him once he's sure the human has swallowed everything. He meets Ban's petrified stare with a smile more radiant and warm than the sun, his jewel-toned eyes speaking of nothing but warm relief, affection, hope. Hope, because Ban will have a future, even though King won't. Pink water still glistens on King's chin and throat, but his injuries aren't healing. His arms are shaking on either side of Ban's head. They waver, and King collapses over him, his face falling into the crook of Ban's neck in a parody of an embrace.

Ban feels like an icy hand has just reached straight past his ribs and grabbed his heart, squeezing unrelentingly. King…King is a self-sacrificing moron who doesn't value himself at all. King loves Ban. King was put in a situation where he had to choose between his life and Ban's, and…Ban actually thought for a second that King would choose his own?

Because Ban is an idiot, the person he loves has just given his life for him not just once, but twice. Does King expect him to be grateful for that?!

Deadly calm settles over Ban's mind like a blanket of frost. He gets to his feet, gathers King's limp body in his arms (still breathing but so pale, so still), gets him to safety. And then he turns to face the demon that has finally realised that they aren't quite as dead as it thought, and is already reaching down with a clawed hand to finish the job.

The disgusting appendage explodes in a shower of gore. Ban's injuries heal over just as fast as the monster's (Drink it all, and you'll live foreveeeer!~) and he settles into a ready stance.

"Let's have a contest…who'll turn the other into ground meat first?"

---

They arrive hours later, when sun has already risen. The dead fatso's fires have long since run out of life to consume, and the Sacred Tree is little more than a charred, smoking husk of its former glory. For the first time in his now apparently eternal life, Ban finds himself empathising with a tree.

He doesn't sense or even see them coming, distracted as he is, but he certainly hears them: King's people, come to look for him at last. They fly over in droves, chattering to each other anxiously about the horrors of the previous night. They talk about the relief efforts that were put together to rescue fellow fairies from where the blaze was strongest, about the groups of water magic-wielding citizens who coordinated their efforts to finally put out the flames, and all the while, the dragon in the room seems to be—where was the Fairy King while all this was going on? Why didn't he come to their aid, even though it was clear that his battle against the fiend who reduced the Forest to ash ended hours ago?

When Ban glances over his shoulder, he isn't surprised to find Elaine at the head of the pack, looking more distressed than all of them combined. Her dress, so pristine and white just yesterday, is tattered and stained with ash and blood. Her hair is singed at the ends, in complete disarray, and her eyes are wild as they search frantically for her older brother. Two fairies Ban can recognise from King's stories as matching Helbram and Gerheade's descriptions are only a few wingbeats behind her, and there's something trapped and frenzied about probably-Helbram's expression that has Ban suspecting he's on the verge of one of those trauma-induced fits of madness Elaine told him about.

Ban can see the moment they all finally catch sight of the demon's colossal corpse, its crimson skin standing out starkly against the burnt-black of the Sacred Tree's bark. There's a collective gasp, most of the swarm of fairies recoiling in disgust while the rest only fly faster.

Then they notice Ban, kneeling over something hidden by the breadth of his chest a little ways away from the massive carcass, and stop dead in their tracks.

The fairies all bristle at the sight of him, round little faces scowling distrustfully even as they pale in trepidation. Their weapons go up and their insect-like wings flare out in obvious threat displays, but they don't dare actually approach him. Except for one, a green-haired one with blistering fury flaring in his sharp yellow eyes, whom Ban is pretty sure he recognises.

"HUMAN!" probably-Helbram roars, so raw and forlorn under all the rage that Ban could almost feel sorry for him. "WHAT DID YOU DO?! WHERE IS HE?! WHERE IS—HARLEQUIN! HARLEQUIN, WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Ban doesn't bother dodging the serrated green sabres the fairy sends whirring at his head. Even when one bites deep into his shoulder and the other slices his throat wide open, a wound that would've been fatal just hours ago, he doesn't take his eyes off the treasure on his lap. That's definitely Helbram, then, he decides absently. No other fairy hates mankind so deeply, according to Elaine.

Who, speak of the devil, is the first to breach the invisible boundary between fairies and human, and alight at Ban's side.

"Oh…Big Brother," she says, a thin, agonised whisper, the moment she lays eyes on Ban's precious armful. Quiet gasps of horror ripple through the crowd behind them as they all finally notice the small figure Ban is clutching to his chest. Even Helbram stops his attack, whimpering Harlequin? in a voice like a wounded dog. Ban doesn't care. He only has eyes for his love.

King lies sprawled across Ban's lap, small, limp and pale, looking more doll than fairy. The enormous hole straight through his thin torso is no less gruesome now that it's stopped bleeding, but the expression on his soot-stained face is peaceful, even soft.

He is so light, Ban can barely feel his weight. But he went head to head with a demon more than ten times his size, and almost won. He is so cold Ban could swear he was dead. But he is somehow, miraculously, still breathing.

Ban clutches the pink leaf Harlequin gave to him, and the precious seed within, like it's his lifeline. Because it is. Rather, it's King's.

"I've tied my life force…to the Sacred Tree's. As long as I live…it'll keep living…and vice versa…" King explained laboriously, voice so painfully weak, thick with the blood in his throat, in what little was left of his lungs. "So…I won't die. But I d-don't have enough magic power…left, to heal myself…or the Tree. I'm going to fall asleep soon…and I probably won't…wake again for a long time. Not until…the Tree…is strong enough.

"So, Ban…I'll leave it to you…to save us both." King smiled up at Ban one last time, achingly radiant despite all the ash and dried blood soiling his sweet face. "You said you'd…make me yours, right? I'll be…waiting, then…"

Ban knows Elaine has read his heart, witnessed King's not-final-please-never-final moments, when she breaks and finally starts crying. She wails like a lost child, clutching one of King's limp hands so hard it would surely hurt if he could feel it.

"Big Brother! I'll help too, Big Brother!" she blubbers between great, heaving sobs, pressing her brow to the back of King's cold hand. "I'll save you! I'll keep the Forest safe for you! So please… Big Brother, please come back soon!"

Behind them both, an effervescent murmur sweeps through the crowd of fairies hovering a respectful distance away while Elaine grieves. Even Helbram stops raging at Ban for a moment, caught by the same hope that has seized his brethren. "Come back soon"? Is their King not lost, then? Is there still a chance that he might return to them? That this terrible night won't the end of the Fairy Clan?

Ban can't feel Harlequin's people page through his mind, but they must, if the subdued but exultant cheers that soon fill the dead-still morning air are any indication.

Loudest among them is, of course, Helbram, whose shrill, desperately relieved laughter doesn't sound much less hysterical than his previous barely-coherent death threats. In the blink of an eye, Helbram is next to Ban, clutching King's other hand like a drowning man—and snotting all over it.

"Harlequin, Harlequin, Harlequin…" he repeats endlessly through his tears, sounding slightly less unhinged with every iteration. Clearly, for all that King's supposed death destroyed his already fragile mind, King's miraculous survival is doing just as much to restore it. Elaine did mention that Helbram relied on King a lot more after his traumatising ordeal seven hundred years ago, but seeing it in person is more unpleasant than just hearing of it. It's not like Ban's jealous of their bond, he isn't that petty. But he suspects that Helbram's heavy dependence on King since that day did not help alleviate King's feelings of guilt and self-blame in the slightest, and can't help but resent Helbram for it.

Still, at least the guy clearly loves the hell out of his Harlequin, and he's pretty strong. If nothing else, he'll be a committed ally in getting King back.

Probably-Gerheade, for her part, has been standing back silently all this while, watching Ban's Helbram-induced injuries heal rapidly with an unreadable face Ban isn't sure he likes, and King's barely breathing form with a soft, pained look in her eyes that he could almost call motherly.

"We will honour Lord Fairy King's wishes," she finally declares, her quiet, composed voice easily silencing her fellow fairies' half-joyous, half-mournful brouhaha. "Henceforth, you are a welcome ally of the Fairy Clan…Lord Ban. Please offer us your assistance in getting our King back to full health as soon as possible."

The "after which we will have no use for you" goes unspoken but not unheard, even though Ban can't read hearts.

Judging by her politely frosty tone, probably-Gerheade does not approve of Ban and King's relationship, but that's fine. Ban doesn't need her blessing. He doesn't give a damn what anyone thinks of him, or of his love for King. All that matters is that he has a chance to save the one he loves. To see King scowl, and blush, and cry, and fuss, and smile at him again. To give him hell for choosing to save Ban against his wishes and leaving him behind.

To kiss him again, without tasting blood on both their lips.

For that, Ban will do anything—and he's pretty sure Elaine and Helbram, at least, will be right there with him. And they should probably start by rounding up all of King's people, and finding a good location to plant the new Sacred Tree.

(Trees don't grow quickly.

They take decades to reach something close to their full potential; and this is the long-lived Fairy Clan's Sacred Tree they're talking about. It might take centuries, even millennia, before Ban can see King's beautiful eyes open again, before he can hear his voice and feel his warmth.

But that's fine. Thanks to the Fountain of Youth, Ban has all the time in the world.)

Ban tightens his arms around King's sleeping form, pressing that precious face into his neck and breathing in his scent, still so sweet through the sickly taint of ash and death. He vows once more—

"One day, Harlequin… I'll definitely make you mine~."

---

THE END

---

What I imagine happens afterwards:
For years, Ban travels throughout Britannia, looking for a way to wake King. He comes back regularly to bleed for the new Sacred Tree (but since a Fairy King's Forest grown entirely from human blood would be super twisted, he can only help its growth along so much), where Elaine is serving as interim Fairy Queen, and slowly help it grow. Obviously, he's long since healed King's wounds with his blood too, but King still hasn't woken up.
Ban still ends up being blamed for the Forest's destruction and branded the Fox's Sin of Greed etc., but is more proactive in looking for ways to get his love back, since King is only comatose, not dead. Things happen as per canon up until the Albion arc; after seeing Elizabeth's powers during the fight against Hendrickson, Ban asks her to please heal King, all but getting on his knees. Elizabeth accepts, obviously, since she's a sweetheart, and Meliodas doesn't want her, a human noncombatant, going to the Fairy King's Forest alone, so he follows (while Merlin, Diane, Gowther & co. head to Camelot). Ban knows King will be pissed at him for leading outsiders straight to his Forest, but will happily weather his wrath if it means King will finally wake up.
Elizabeth's magic doesn't work immediately, but when the Albion appears and starts running rampant in the Forest, King finally wakes up and epically defeats it with Meliodas and Ban's help (I firmly believe that the other Sins are badass enough to handle the one in Camelot without Meliodas). Then, before Elizabeth and many fairies' moved eyes, and everyone else's amused ones, Ban pulls King into a torrid kiss, saying, "About time, King. An old geezer like you shouldn't try to pass for sleeping beauty."
"I don't want to hear that from the man who brought strangers into my Forest!" King retorts, trying to look annoyed, then giving up and hugging him with a watery laugh.
Ban tells King that he'll get to see the world with him after all. The Ten Commandments have been released, and all of Britannia is at risk; the Fairy King would be a great help in fighting against them. King replies that he doesn't care about the danger, he's just glad to finally be back with Ban, and he's sorry for leaving him alone for so long.
Elaine and Helbram have missed King terribly and insist on coming along, while Gerheade stays behind to guard the new Forest in their absence. And they all go on to kick ass and take names with the rest of the…Six Deadly Sins, since King never became the Sin of Sloth, lol.

A tidbit I planned to include later but never got around to was that the Sacred Tree wasn't actually telling King to keep Ban safe. It was telling King that *Ban* would keep *King and the Forest* safe. But, being a Tree, it communicates more through feelings and impressions than words, so some things got lost in translation. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
If you're wondering what happened between Ban and Elaine: as you probably guessed, Elaine saw when she was reading Ban's mind that he was in love with King and decided to shoo her brother off so she could give his suitor a quick shovel talk, haha.

(Btw, I'm super late to the party but, like—I wasn't the only one who hoped King's full-powered older form would get long hair like Gloxinia's instead of the Victor-Nikiforov-with-a-mullet thing he ended up with, right? I mean, his face is pretty enough that he somehow pulls it off, but still.
You know what, screw it. It's now canon for this AU that grownup!King has lovely, silky, flowing tresses down to his ass! Justice is served at last.)

If anyone out there wants to continue this, unlikely though that seems—feel free! Just please let me know so I can read it too!