A/N: It's been so long since the last chapter I've posted and I'm terribly sorry about that. I didn't expect this to take so long! Unfortunately, college is taking up most of my time, and I'm afraid that the next chapter will take a while as well (but I promise it will come). In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I once again thank Redworld96, she has been so supportive and helped me a lot. The amazing colouring that goes with this chapter is actually the one that gave life to this story! We are both very excited to finally share it. Unfortunately, is not allowing me to put it here, but you can find it on Redworld96's Tumblr or DeviantArt.
Thanks to Trig as well, who beta read this chapter and dealt with my loquacity in writing! And thanks to the ones who are still reading and enjoying this story even though my updates take forever. Really, thank you so much!
Enjoy
Chapter VIII: Uncovering the truth
The light of the candles glowed softly on the vial on the table, making the dark blood assume lighter shades, still fluid as the day it was taken. Fairy blood. It had peculiar attributes, and this made it fascinating to work with. Yet, funnily enough, Merlin was starting to grow tired of it. She has spent days examining it, using all the spells she knew to look even for the tiniest imperfection, and by now she was sure there was nothing wrong, per se, in the substance. No toxins, no poisons, nothing that could indicate the presence of disease, or at least, nothing that she could detect - and she was confident enough to think that this meant that there was truly nothing.
It made no sense.
Merlin pursed her lips, her palms pressing against the wood of the table as she barely leaned towards the vial. Something was obviously wrong with King, she had seen it with her own eyes, and if experience had taught her something, it was that everything left a trace, for the ones who were shrewd enough to catch it. Not for the first time that night, she lifted her hand and moved it above the vial, spreading her fingers as she freed her magic and focused on finding the minuscule shreds of magic that still lingered in the blood. Usually, it disappeared from the substance shortly after it had left the body of the owner, but for her, this wasn't a problem, not with her abilities. Even so, the task wasn't easy. It was probably King's sudden loss of power that made it so difficult to find even the tiniest trace of his magic. Narrowing her eyes, she kept looking, painstakingly searching the blood, seconds turning into minutes as the light of the rising sun slowly started to filter from the closed window, illuminating the floor piece by piece. The line of light had almost reached the table leg when she finally exhaled, a sense of satisfaction making her lips curve into a little smile. What she had found felt like a tiny bright spot in the blood, invisible to the eyes. It would have gone unnoticed to most of the mages. Not to Merlin. Not to her power. Carefully, she moved her fingers, amplifying the feeble drop and extracting it from the blood; she still couldn't see it, not with her eyes, but she could feel it, like a small sphere right under her hand, barely vibrating in the air. Closing her eyes, she used her power to examine it carefully once again. King's magic was familiar to her, after all the years they had spent together - Fairy magic, undoubtedly, with something in it that made it only King's. It felt way weaker than usual, but apart from that, she could sense nothing wrong with it either. Yet, there had to be something. Something that was slowly draining the magic.
Snorting in frustration, Merlin let the magic go. It dissipated in the air like mist under the sun. She reached for the vial, her fingers wrapping around the glass and lifting it as she glared at it. Another second and the blood was once again enveloped with her magic, her powers flowing through it, exploring every cell, every particle, in search of something, anything. A trace, a spark, whatever. If she had found nothing, she would have looked for King, no matter how reticent he would have been - the memory of the way he had acted during their last encounter barely gleamed in her mind before she chased it away, focusing once again on her research. His sudden mistrust was another detail she couldn't clearly explain, not yet, but she didn't doubt she would have. If there was something Merlin was good at, was satisfying her own curiosity, and now, it had gotten personal.
Only when the sunlight clearly illuminated her vial in her hands and her forearms, getting to brush her elbow, Merlin pursed her lips, snorting as she started to order her magic back. She was wasting her time like that, when what she should have done, probably since the start, was study the problem at the root. Even though King still hadn't called her back, she needed to see him. Rather he had gotten better, or he had gotten worse, and therefore he would have accepted her help, no matter what -
Oh?
Her brow flinched and she turned her hand with a rotational movement, sending her magic back. For a moment, she had thought she had found something ... different. New. But as soon as she looked back, it had disappeared. It could have been just an impression caused by tiredness, it wasn't like her but - no, she realized as she breathed in, brushing against it again. In a moment she wrapped it with her magic to prevent it from vanishing once again in the blood, excitement growing in her chest as she started to examine it. It was nothing more than a little fragment of magic, a spark that would have already died if it wasn't for the spells she had put on the vial, but what made her lips curve into a delighted smile was that it clearly wasn't King's. It wasn't even Fairy magic, though at first, it felt like it - but no, Merlin decided as her lips parted slightly, her narrowed eyes fixed on the blood as if she could see the flow of power inside it. She couldn't quite point out what it was, though, and it didn't help that it was so tiny, almost like a tace left by something passing by. Maybe the scraps of a spell?
Brows furrowed, she continued working, now both her hands moving around the vial now, an annoyed hiss leaving her lips when she realised that she couldn't identify what kind of spell it had been and more than that, not even what kind of magic she was dealing with. Demon magic felt richer, intense and unmistakable in its savage force, but it wasn't even Goddesses', nor Giant. Humans' abilities were trickier to identify as they could assume so many aspects, but Merlin had lived among Humans since - well, since the first Holy War had ended, she would have been able to recognize it. And this felt different, somehow. Older, wilder, somehow even familiar. It made her throat tighten and her nose wrinkle, a sick feeling tickling the back of her mouth. She swallowed but refused to let go. Had she dealt with something similar before? She couldn't quite point out what it reminded her, yet it was like something was moving in her memory, fighting to surface. Belialuin? She wondered, the name of her lost home feeling foreign even in her mind - she rarely even thought about it, nowadays. The city had been so full of magic, magic that had disappeared from this world after its destruction. Yet, she couldn't remember any of it ever making her feel so ... uncomfortable. Then, maybe, it had been later, during the First Holy War - the Gods knew she had seen some of the worse things she had ever faced, back then. But again, it wasn't the work of Goddesses nor Demons, then what -
No. She gasped, a jolt travelling through her spine and making her almost - almost - lose her grip on the foreign magic. No, it hadn't been during the war, it had been before - she could still clearly see it, in the back of her mind, the dying wood with its disturbing silent trees, and she felt like she was still there, the suffocating feeling of something clenching her lungs and her guts, crawling into her throat and weighting on her shoulders until Elizabeth had found her and took her away. She hadn't been in that place in thousands of years, yet she would have never been able to forget it, nor to completely remove from her mind the way that had magic felt. So similar to one of the Fairy Clan she knew, yet not the same. Yes, it was it. She had found the anomaly. Even though she had never had access to the knowledge she would have wanted, not about what had happened to the other half of the Fairy Clan, she knew that the power wasn't supposed to be in King's blood. He was born centuries after that kind of energy was apparently wiped out from existence, how could he have come in contact with it? And, for the Gods, what did it mean for him?
Cursing under her breath, Merlin finally let her magic go, the vial returning still on its support on the table. The moment later, she was already focusing on finding Gowther and Escanor, rapidly scanning the city of Camelot, but they were exactly where she thought she would have found them. Escanor's tavern. The last thing she saw before she disappeared from her room was the vial of blood, still on the table, the morning sun illuminating the blood, turning it into a lighter shade of red. So innocuous to the eyes. Yet, it had changed everything.
Everything hurts. His legs when his feet touch the ground, his arms, his lungs and ribs when they expand with every breath. His skin hurts too, it feels like it's about to break and slip away from his body to melt on the ground - and it's so hot, too hot, the air burns his nose and throat, making him cough and weep. Desperation is the one thing that pushes him to keep going, half flying and half walking, stumbling on the wooden floor like a bird with broken wings. This path has no way out, this hole of charred wood and fire will be his grave, he knows it, and he knew it when he flew into the crevice that led him here, inside the large trunk of the Dark Tree. But he can't turn back. He can't. Not with the screams still echoing in his ears and the blood fresh on his clothes and skin, sticky and loathsome on his hands - he won't look at them, doesn't want to look at them. The outside is not a way out, if he turns back, if he crawls out again, he will be dead - he will be killed, like everyone else.
He breathes out sharply and shuts his eyes when he hacks, almost falling on the ground. He stumbles and it takes everything to push his body to keep moving - but it works and he goes on.
A step, the arch of his foot on the wood.
A stabbing pain to his muscles and bones, radiating to his whole body - maybe this time his leg will give up and he will fall and if he falls he will not be able to stand up again and - he doesn't fall, not yet.
What remains of his magic pushes his body forward, slowly.
Another step. All over again. And again. And again.
Before his eyes, the wooden guts of the Tree and the glares of the fires, yet he doesn't see it. He sees blood instead, and wings rip to pieces and bodies falling on the ground, and he hears it, the sound of the bones crushing and the flesh rupturing, a blur of pink and white and red spreading on the ground. They are dead. All of them. His friends, his family, people he knew since the day he was born. He ears Adhane's laugh and then her shattering cry when her wings when ripped off from her back, he sees the cocky grin Mole gave him just this morning and then his empty eyes and blood stained lips, and he remembers seeing Cara and Thore flying together between the branches a few hours ago and then them falling on the ground, their limbs still and rigid. They are all gone. Just like that.
And soon, he will join them too. This desperate escape, his limping in the wooden tunnel, towards the centre of what he once believed the most powerful thing of this world, all of this … it's useless. Maybe they won't venture in the burning Tree, maybe they won't chase him to finish him. Even so, he will burn alive. If he had enough air in his lungs, he would sob. He doesn't want to die, not now, not like this, not alone. It wasn't supposed to end this way. They weren't supposed to be attacked like that - right in their home, in their most sacred dwelling. They weren't supposed to be attacked by them - the other ones, their own Clan.
But it happened. The other attacked and they weren't ready - how could they have been ready for that ? The assault was merciless and brutal, it didn't give them time to do anything more than trying to counterattack - and besides, that monster -
Fear clenches his heart and he squeezes his eyes. Dozens of his people have fallen, their blood pouring in the air like red rain, and all by the hand of just one of them. Only one. And he had been enough to break their line and their groups and claim the life of their best warriors. He has seen the monster only from the distance, surrounded by other Fairies yet unmistakable - wings larger than any he has ever seen, blood covering his body, and that weapon, that terrifying weapon, a golden spear barely shining in the air before striking ruthlessly. He was simply lucky enough not to be in its range. Gods, he thinks with a choked sob, was that even luck?
The rough sound of his dry cough gets lost in the creaking of the wood on fire and he has to stop for a moment, a hand on his throat. The heatwave that envelops him is sudden and heavy like iron, it makes him jerks as he moves again, advancing through the smoke. His eyes burn too and waters and he blinks, again and again, until he finally looks up, sight clouded by tears and - and he can't go further. Even though the smoke is everywhere, he knows he reached the end of the road. The heart of their Dark Tree.
His end.
Only then his body collapses, the last remainings of strength that pushed him until now have vanished, leaving behind only an empty shell. He falls on his knees, hands grasping the rough vines of the floor, and a sound that should be a scream yet it's only a whine leave his sore throat. Pressing his forehead against the wood, he trembles, body writhing as the heat bites his skin again and burns the tips of his wings. Please , he whispers, thought the words don't make it through his lips, please . What he is begging for, he doesn't know - salvation, a quick death, anything but the fire slowly consuming him. But no one is there to hear his plea if not for the Tree. It's still alive, he feels Its presence in his mind, but it's feeble and hurt and - It is dying, too, consumed by the flames. It won't help him. He is alone.
Alone .
No no no no please not like this not like -
The sudden movements of the vines under him makes his heart skip a beat. His eyes snap open, still, he can't move, all his energies had been drained. But he doesn't have to, the roots push towards him and are strong enough to lift the upper part of his body. In a moment he is on his knees again and the wood in front of him is creaking, opening like a chest. Then, he is not alone anymore. The whispers in his mind are not quite words, nor sentences, yet they are clear, demanding and pleading at the same time. He gasps and then tries to slow down his breath as he nods quickly. Anything , he answers, anything for the Dark Tree - a nything to get out of here . So, when finally the seed emerges from the broken wood and the splinters, almost hold tenderly by the vines, he reaches out for it without hesitation. It's heavy and rough under his bruised fingers, he has to hold it with both his hands; it seems to beat in his grip, a heart just ripped from the rib cage. Holding it to his chest, he lifts his eyes one most time, his lips barely moving as he swears that he will do what it's needed to take it to safety.
There is no answer, only the feeling of something grabbing his being and pulling him away. Away from the Fairy Realm, towards Britannia - this will be the last time he'll ever feel something like that, he realizes, and the last time he will see his home. But there is no time for goodbyes, no time for regrets, and when the world stops spinning and he opens his eyes, the fire has disappeared and so the flames and the cracking of the wood. The roots of the trees of the Underground Forest wrap him in a protective embrace, and for a second, just a brief, precious second, he can collapse on the ground and breathe . Almost like he was safe. Then, the sounds that are now deafening him make their way into his mind. Screams. The beating of dozens of wings. The horrific sound of the bodies hitting the ground and shattering.
No .
His head raises, breath halting in his throat because here his kind is falling too and there are corpses all around him, lying on the roots and the branches, and up in there, between the leaves, the battle continues. His people are still fighting, weapons twirl in the air, yet it's obvious who will be the winner - the warriors he recognizes are so few and they are will soon be surrounded and slaughtered like everyone else. The urge to join them is sudden and ferocious, something visceral that seems to grab his soul and push him up, to use everything he has left to fight with his people one last time - and kill them, kill the others, the ones who destroyed his world and took everything away from him . But when his hands unconsciously clench something hard and warm scratches his palms and then it throbs and he curses himself. The seed. He has to protect the seed. If they find him, if they kill him, then everything will be lost. Forever.
And so he forces himself to look away from the fight and crouches as he gathers all the power he has left; he lays the seed between his knees, his fingers lingering on its peel just a moment before letting it go. Then, he starts digging. The ground is hard and his fingers are burned and bleeding, his nails break against the earth and he feels so exhausted and his magic is vanishing. He keeps digging. Something falls somewhere in front of him and the squishy sound it makes is enough to make him want to puke, yet he doesn't look up - if he does, he will find lifeless eyes staring at him and he knows he will recognize them. It wouldn't make the difference anyway. He keeps digging.
More, and more, and more.
The light was sudden and too bright on his eyelids, it wiped out the darkness with a burst of white. King woke up inhaling sharply, his eyes opening abruptly and then immediately shutting, hurt by the intensity of the sunlight. He lifted his arms to cover the face, heaving a sigh when his world fell in the blackness again. Swallowing the air, the fast pounding of his heart loud in his head, he tried to calm his breath; slowly, he became aware of his own body, of the soreness that made his muscles tense and his skin sting, of the coldness and roughness of the wood under his back. He was lying on a tangle of roots, he realized, eyes still closed and wings pressing uncomfortably against the treen mass. The Tree's roots . He had climbed the Tree's roots the night before, crawling in the darkness like a blind man, yet he didn't remember falling on them. It had probably happened after, during the … during the change. The memory of that burning pain that had scalded his flesh and devoured his mind made him swallow, his hands clenching weakly.
It had been necessary, though. The change had to be completed, and that required pain, but now King knew, really knew what it meant. And even though every muscle of his body ached, like they had been strained and squeezed for hours, even though his eyes still burned because of the light and his back felt tense and the wings stiff, he hadn't felt so good in weeks. It wasn't only the exhaustion that had made his body heavier and his head aching, the fog that had obfuscated his mind and made his thoughts slow and vague had disappeared too. Now, everything was clear, bright even, as all the pieces had moved to the right place. He finally knew what had happened to him - and why. Thinking about it, it had been inevitable, exactly like the pain that had come with the change. Replacing a bond so strong like the one he had with the Sacred Tree required time and sacrifice, but now it was done and it felt amazing . Carefully, he reached for his magic and felt his lips curving into a smile when he found it there, strong and ample as it had been before. It felt different, it was different, but that didn't matter. It was his, and it would have followed his will, never letting him vulnerable in front of an enemy again. And Diane didn't have to worry about him anymore and he finally could explain to her what happened and - and she would have been happy and forgiven him. Everything was fine, now.
Everything was fine .
Finally, King lowered his arms, squeezing his eyes when the sunlight hit again against his eyelids. He breathed out, taking a few seconds to get used to it, then, slowly, he opened his eyes. At first, it was too much. He blinked a couple of times before he could distinguish the twine of vines that covered entirely the ground above him and the dark leaves that sprouted from them. He glanced around, inhaling sharply when his gaze met the creak on the ceiling; he immediately looked away, closing his eyes, the light too bright to bear. It came from there, of course, it was the only entrance - yet, it shouldn't have been so much, the break wasn't large enough to let the sunlight illuminate the cave completely. It was … different, almost unnatural. But, King thought as he forced his eyes open once again, refusing to surrender to the light, so was he. He blinked a few times as he lifted the upper part of his body, leaning on his elbow, then stopped a moment to catch his breath and relax his muscles. His body was still sore, but it was getting better, quickly adjusting to the change. A moment later, he managed to sit and even stretch his arms, a low sigh escaping his lips.
"You should take it slow."
King jerked, immediately tensing again when the voice broke the silence, and turned - his muscles hurt and complained, but he ignored the ache and focused on his magic, getting ready to react. But, there was no need. The moment his eyes landed on the figure, he knew that it wasn't a danger. At first, he couldn't even understand if the minute person sitting on the roots, a few feet from him, were a male of a female - their body, barely covered by a pair of old and battered pants and shaggy long hair that fell on the woods around them, was too emaciated, like some kind of beast had crawled under their skin and eat all the flesh, leaving only the bones. Even from where he was, King could count every single rib and distinguish the edges of the collarbones, and the arms, which they kept in their lap, were thin and weak, the slender hands looking almost like white spiders pending on their web. A male, finally King decided as he studied the sunken face - the hollow cheeks and the cheek bones stretching the skin until it looked white and thin as paper - and a Fairy. The long, pointy ears popping out from the brownish hair gave it away, and he even though he couldn't see them clearly, he was pretty sure that the dark grey matter behind the other's back was his wings.
The stranger tilted his head as he looked back at him, curiosity and coldness mixing in his large eyes - they were ice-blue, the slit black pupil splitting the irises in half, and glimmered like gems on the paleness of his face. "There is no hurry," he continued, voice low and a bit hoarse, as he curved the thin lips in a little smile, "and you have been through a … rough night. Your Majesty," he added at the end, after a moment of hesitation, lingering for a moment on the last word as it was foreign to his tongue.
King narrowed his eyes as he studied the Fairy, frowning. He didn't expect anyone to be there. No one was supposed to be. "Who are you?" He asked, shifting as he stretched his wings.
The other lifted a brow. "Didn't It show you?"
His eyes moved for a moment to the point right behind King's back - the Tree. Harlequin glanced briefly at the large trunk, pressing his lips in a line. The memories, images and information that It had given to him during the night had dovetailed perfectly in his mind, giving him a complete picture of what had been hidden to him for centuries - and what he had to do to fix it. Yet, for a couple of seconds, he couldn't remember anything about the Fairy who sat in front of him. After a moment, he decided that he had definitely never seen him, it wasn't a sight he would have easily forgotten. Unless … He blinked, an idea working its way in his mind. The Tree, as powerful as It was, had no eyes, no ears, only magic coursing into the wood. But It didn't need them. Its children were Its eyes and ears, the hands through which It could exert Its touch on the world. It still wasn't clear to King how exactly it was possible, yet it seemed like It could take whatever It wanted from their minds. The reason he wasn't able to recognize the man in front of him was that he wasn't in the memory the Tree had shown him because - because they were his memories. "You," he said, slowly, "you are the one who took the seed."
The man smiled, pale lips parting to show the little, sharp teeth - yet, there was no joy in his eyes. A spark of pride, maybe, drowning in a pool of something darker. "I am," he said, "I took it to safety." He paused, his smile fading. "No one else could."
"I know," King nodded, clenching his jaw as he remembered - the feeling of losing everything, without any chance to stop it and save anyone, still lingered in his heart, burning and sickening. "But how could you survive? Even if you had managed to hide from the -" he hesitated for a second, unsure how to call them - the others , murmured a whisper in his mind, but even after what he saw, he couldn't bring himself to consider his Fairies like that. "From them," he hurried finally, joining his hands, his eyes not leaving the other man, "it happened -"
"A long time ago, apparently," the Fairy stated, shrugging weakly as a line appeared between his brows. "It showed me, you know? The long centuries It spent here, hiding and waiting, slowly growing and recovering Its power drop by drop, knowing that it wouldn't ever be enough. Until It felt you." He tilted his head, his cold eyes wandering over King, lingering for a couple of seconds on his wings. "Gods," he grinned, "you are even more powerful than that monster."
King exhaled, crossing his arms. He knew exactly who the man was referring to, and even though at that moment his feelings about Gloxinia were conflicted - Gods, he could still feel fear turning his blood into ice at the thought of how the former Fairy King had killed and killed dozens of his similars - he wouldn't have let anyone talking like that about him. Not after what he did for him. "You didn't answer my question," he pointed out, straightening his spine, "how did you survive?"
"Isn't that obvious? It saved me," the Fairy's eyes moved once again on the Tree, something warm finally flickering in his gaze. "How It did, I don't know," he added before King could speak, "what I remember, is digging the ground with what I had, my magic, my hands, because I didn't have another choice. I remember sinking in the darkness of the earth until the ground started falling over me, until I couldn't move, until I couldn't breathe because the dirt was the only thing reaching my lungs. I was dying. But It saved me."
"Why?" The question slipped through his lips before King could think of a better way to ask it; he closed his mouth, regretting the scepticism clearly audible in his voice, then opened it again as he tried to find a way to reformulate his query. The Fairy didn't seem to care, though. His chest trembled, a creaking sound coming out from his grinning mouth. It made King stiffen and glance worryingly at him before he realized it was a laugh. "It needed my magic to grow, of course. It was fragile and powerless, at first, and I was the only being that could nourish Its seed." He stopped for a moment to catch his breath before smiling, a hand gently landing on the root. "It needed me alive, for that. I've saved It a second time, and for that, I believe, It spared my life."
King stared at him, lips pressed in a line. This, the Tree hadn't shown him. Yet, as he shifted to briefly glance at the trunk behind his back, he felt, like a knowledge that had resided into his mind and that was now unlocked, that it had been necessary. The Tree had to survive - and its best chance was to nourish from the Fairy that now sat in front of him. "But now, It doesn't need me anymore," the man continued, his eyes shifting on King, "It has become strong enough. And It got you."
"I know," the Fairy King nodded, holding his gaze. The Tree had told him as well, with Its language made of images and whispers, about how much It had needed someone like him, about how long It had spent hiding from the other Clans and the constant watch of the Sacred - the other Tree. Waiting for a chance to make things right, frozen in Its watch. Until that chance had come - just two years before, when It had felt King's power awakening, a beacon of hope after all that time. But, Harlequin thought, this was not the moment to analyze all the memories he had now in his head. What mattered was that he finally knew the truth, and more than that, he had a purpose.
The Fairy's stare was still fixed on him, his eyes narrow and calculating, as he silently waited for King's next move. Unable to hold back, Harlequin released his power, gently brushing against the other's mind, not quite reading his thoughts but close enough to feel what he was feeling. He wasn't surprised when he met a cold wall of suspicion and fear of not knowing, exactly, what to expect - though, under the curtain of distrust, there was fascination too, and hope. It was understandable. The last thing this man had seen was his people and home being destroyed by King's Clan, and even now, that he could feel that King was now like him, he couldn't simply forget. The Fairy King heaved a sigh; for now, the other man was his only ally. Hopefully, he would have won his trust. "What's your name?" He asked, suddenly, putting his hands on his knees.
The Fairy blinked, surprise flashing in his eyes, almost like he wasn't expecting to be asked that. Silently, he studied King for another couple of seconds, then his mouth twitched. "My name, Your Majesty, is Coremorn," he said, nodding his head in the imitation of a bow, "and since the Dark Tree chose you, I am your servant."
"Coremorn," King repeated, ignoring the last remark. "And you know, I presume, what we have to do."
Something sparked in his ice eyes, his slit pupils barely widening, "The Tree didn't wake me up for nothing, your Majesty."
"Good." The Tree hadn't shown him only memories when he had changed. Something like the seed of an idea had been planted in his mind, and even though King had still not clear how exactly he would have acted, he knew what was his objective. Having someone to help him, someone who most likely knew the Tree more than he did, was comforting. He glanced once again at the creak on the ceiling; his eyes had gotten used to the light of the cave, yet for a moment they stung and he furrowed his brows and wrinkled his nose. How long had he been there? Without seeing the sun, he couldn't be sure, but it was certainly already morning.
"Take it slow," he heard Coremon say, "our eyes get used to the light, but it takes time. They work better in the darkness."
"Why so?" King asked, turning towards the other Fairy as he flinched a brow.
Coremorn shrugged, amusement flickering in his eyes. "My people used to call It the Dark Tree," he said, eyeing the large trunk, "but it has never been because of Its colour. It's because It doesn't need the sunlight, It can grow in the murk under the earth. We are Its children," he continued, glancing at King, "we don't need light either. That's why going outside is always … unpleasant, at first." He set his lips in a line, as he was remembering the feeling. "Our eyes are not made for the light."
"Alright." King paused for a moment, the words sinking in his mind; it felt weird, to be so sensitive even to the dim light inside the cave, and he would have needed time to get used to the idea. But now he had no time for this. His eyes moved again on the ceiling, as he impatiently fluttered his wings. "Can you fly?"
With the corner of his eyes, he could see the Fairy lift his brows. Coremorn blatantly lowered his gaze on his body, his wings weakly shifting behind him. "Right now, your Majesty?" He asked sceptically, looking up to meet King's eyes. "I wouldn't go far, I can barely stand. I've started to recover my magic, but I need more time."
King nodded, not surprised; if he focused, he could feel Coremorn's magic, but it felt weak like a light layer of mist floating above the grass, so faint that he was surprised the man was even conscious. Maybe, he decided, that was for the best. Maybe, it would have been better if he had been alone. He clenched his muscles and pushes against his hands, standing up. His legs ached but the pain was quick to disappear, leaving his muscles a bit numb but functioning. He heaved a sigh when he finally spread his wings, the tight know that had been his back immediately relaxing. Energy coursed through his body, and he curled his fingers, impatiently flapping his wings, the need to fly almost pulling him toward the shred of sky he could see beyond the crack. When he glanced at Coremorn again, he was still sitting, observing him and waiting, his eyes lingering on his wings, unable to hide the wonder. "You will wait here, then."
"What?" The Fairy blinked, looking startled, "Where are you going?"
Harlequin took a moment before answering, a tangle of mixed feeling suddenly weighing on the centre of his chest. He swallowed hard and breathed in before answering, "I am coming back. To the Fairy King's Forest." To his people. To Diane. The thought made him feel sick. Not the one of seeing his wife, of course, he ... he missed her and needed to fix things between them - but finally, finally, he would have been able to explain everything and apologize for how he had made her feel, to show her that it was necessary. They would have been fine. They had to be.
No, Diane wasn't the problem, she was rather the only thing that made his heart sing. The problem was them. His people. His Fairies. The same that he had protected for so long, believing so strongly that they were better, innocent, different. Different from the humans, who had always killed each other over futile reasons, blinded by their neverending greed. Different from the Giants, for whom fighting was like second nature - for honour, stubbornness, money. Different from the Goddesses and the Demons, who had slaughtered each other until exctintion, not even minding who could have been caught in the middle. Fairies weren't warriors. They didn't fight among themselves, they would have never. Gods, they had even avoided contacts with the other Clans for three thousand years after the Holy War, trying to forget about its horrors. They were - they were united. Or so he had thought until the Tree had shown him the truth. The mere thought made his gut clench, sickness closing his throat. What he had seen hadn't even been a fight, it had been a massacre, a genocide with no chance of salvation. His people, his precious, innocent people had been the one killing half the Fairy Clan. Then, they had hidden the truth under layers and layers of lies, in the form of a children story, something that for him and the other young Fairies had never been more than a myth, so far and ancient that it had lost all meaning.
Of course, Harlequin knew that the ones who had committed that atrocity were long dead, yet he couldn't help but shiver at the thought that the people he loved and protected were born from the same force as their ancestors - the Sacred Tree, he thought, nauseated. He wondered if It could push them to do something like that again. That would have been a problem - but this time, he was there. And he wouldn't have allowed anything like this to happen.
"The Fairy King's Forest?" Coremorn repeated slowly, furrowing his brows. "You mean the forest above? The other one?" Probably he read something in King's eyes because even before he could answer, he abruptly shook his head, hissing, "That's an awful idea."
"I have to come back," King replied, crossing his arms, "I understand that you don't like them," the burst of hate he could perceive coming from Coremorn's heart made it clear that 'not like them' was a quite reductive way to express his feelings, "but I am still Fairy King. Their protector. And I can't simply disappear as - " As I did . He swallowed, feeling guilt gripping his chest with its sharp claws. After the old Fairy King's Forest had burnt because of him, he had sworn he would have taken care of his people, and yet he had simply left, leaving the Forest exposed. It had been necessary, but he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as he shifted, clearing his throat. "Besides," he added, glancing at Coremorn, "we can't simply stay here. This place is not safe enough. Our best option would be to return in the Fairy Realm, and at this point the only way to access it -"
"Do you think they will let you in?" Coremorn's voice had become a low growl that seemed to come out directly from the bottom of his chest; his narrowed eyes were still fixed on King, the ice of his irises seeming to glow with anger. "Do you really believe that they will simply accept what you have become? You are not like them anymore. You'll be lucky if they won't try to kill you the moment they will see you."
"They would never do something like that!" King shook his head, clenching his jaw, "I am their king!" The words had barely left his lips when his body froze, cold paralyzing his muscles as he remembered how the Fairies, his Fairies, had reacted when he had returned to the Forest for the first time after his disappearance. The rocks scratching his skin, leaving it burning and bleeding, the rage in their eyes and faces as they ordered him to leave because he had betrayed them, leaving his home in the clutches of a Demon. The shame and self-hatred so strong that he could barely move, his breath halted in the back of his throat. No . King gritted his teeth as he swallowed dryly. This was a different situation. They had no reason to treat him like that again - they wouldn't have. They wouldn't . And Diane - Diane would have been with him, as always. He had no reason to be afraid.
"You are our king now!" Coremorn snapped. "You are bounded to the Dark Tree! You are not theirs anymore."
"I can be both," King stubbornly replied, shaking his head as to chase those unpleasant memories out of his head. "I'm not going to abandon them, Coremorn - and I'm not going to abandon you. Once they'll know what really happened to your people, they will understand, and my friends can help -"
"They will not." Coremorn pressed his lips together, his pupils narrow, his gaze almost burning on King's skin. "They hated us, back then. They destroyed us. And you think that this time it would be different?" Suddenly, a dry, derisive laugh shook his body. "They will look at you and see a monster. Maybe - maybe not immediately because they will still want to believe that, after all, you are still only theirs. But as soon as they will understand what you are not, they won't be able to hold back. They will attack you and look for me and destroy everything I've helped preserve. I will not risk this!"
King closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek; it didn't matter how hard he tried not to see them, the memories of the burning trees, the blood stained wood and the broken corpses hanging from the branches like forgotten puppets stormed in his mind, making his breath stop. No. No, he thought, as he inhaled sharply and forced his eyes open again. He wouldn't have let fear stop him. Coremorn didn't know how the Fairies were now. King did, and it didn't matter what they had done in the past, he would have trusted them. Or at least, he would have given them a chance. "I am not asking for your permission," he coldly said after a moment, "I am coming back. But I promise you, whatever will happen - and I can assure you that they will not attack me - I will protect you, and the Tree. I will not let them hurt you, never again."
Coremorn opened his mouth, but he didn't speak, apparently realizing that his words would have done nothing. He clenched his jaw then, shaking his head. "You are going to put us in danger," he finally muttered. "They will not react as you think. When you'll come back, if you will, don't say I didn't tell you."
King sighed. Fighting with Coremorn was the last thing he wanted to do, and it was obvious that he wouldn't have changed his mind. The only way was to show him how wrong he was. "I will be back soon," he promised, "just the time to explain to them what happened - and what will happen. I will come back for you."
Coremorn pressed his lips together, hard enough to make them pale even more, but nodded, "I hope you will, your Majesty."
King nodded back and shifted but hesitated before taking flight. Then, suddenly, he moved his hand, freeing his magic. The earth under the roots trembled slightly before cracking, a bud sprouting from the ground. Coremorn gasped and looked down, his eyes widening as he observed with curiosity the little plant turning into a sapling, the branches spreading and finally covering with little round fruits. With a movement of his hand, King picked a handful of them and made it float until they fell on Coremorn's lap.
"Eat," he said when the Fairy looked up to meet his eyes, lips parted in an astonished expression. "You are starving. I can feel it."
Coremorn's gaze dropped on the fruits, and slowly he wrapped his fingers around one of them, lifting it and examining its dark peel. "How did you do this?" He asked, glancing at King, voice still full of wonder.
"The seed was already there," King shrugged, "somewhere in the depths of the ground. Maybe the wind took it here, but it couldn't grow, not without nourishment and light. I simply used my magic to make it happen faster. That's what I can do."
Coremorn took a moment to observe him, the fruit still tight in his hand. "Well, Your Majesty," he slowly said, the corners of his mouth barely turning up, "The Dark Tree couldn't have chosen better when It found you."
Not knowing how to answer, King simply nodded before murmuring one last time, "I'll be back soon." He didn't wait for a reply before taking flight, head lifted towards the light blue of the piece of sky he could see through the crack. He was there in the blink of an eye, hesitating only for a moment before finally leaving the cave, without looking back.
Outside it was even more bright than what he thought. King squeezed his eyes, refusing to close them again, and stubbornly flew up in the sky, breathing deeply the fresh hair. His gaze immediately dropped on the tree line of Fairy King's Forest, green and alive in contrast with the scrawny wood under him. He refused to look at it, not so soon after he had discovered what had happened there. The seconds he took to rapidly fly over the dead land seemed to last forever - then, finally, the Forest's cool embrace enveloped him and he halted, letting out a sigh; in the half-light under the leaves and the branches, he felt safe, his facial muscles relaxing as he opened his eyes wide. He was alone. There was no Fairy insight, and when he focused to search for them, he frowned, realising that even though he could still feel their presence all around the Forest, most of them had gathered not too far from the passage to the Fairy Realm. Diane was there too, he noticed, a smile forming on his lips, and - Oh. He blinked, surprise rapidly turning into excitement. He wasn't expecting his sister and Ban to be there, but maybe it was for the best. He would have explained the truth to them as well, and then, all together, they would have made things right. His wings flapped as he grinned, then finally he launched himself between the trees, impatience pushing him to go faster, a laugh shaking his chest. Soon, he thought, soon everything would have fallen into place.