Chapter 9: The Washer's Well

The princess woke up late to the leathery tickle of a grey morning. The sky behind her curtains sat low and dark, and as she stood and stretched she contemplated the formless expanse of time before her. The days were getting longer, and she would have to live them all.

She walked over to the wardrobe, and the fantasmin whistled lowly at her in surprise. Her eyes lingered on it a little longer than she had originally intended.

"Another night, another dream, huh?" she said with an amused grin. "It's good to have you back."

It clicked at her in confusion, and the metallic sound rang a bell at the back of her mind.

"Oh, that's right." She mumbled, running back to her bedside "Is there…?"

She reached under her pillow, and her face fell she found nothing.

"Now that's strange." She picked up the pillow and turned it over. "It really isn't there."

The mimic-bird tilted its head at her as if to ask what was the matter.

"It's nothing important," she excused with a wave of the hand "I was just being silly." But she did not really think herself silly. The dream-gods worked in mysterious ways, after all.

She went back to her wardrobe and absent-mindedly ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers stopped at a particularly tough knot, and she groaned at the strength of her bedhead. Some things, she supposed, would never change.

Reaching out to grab her day-dress, she recoiled when a limp sleeve fell over her hands. There was blood all over it. When she took it out for a better look, she realised that the neckline was also stained a disconcertingly browning red, and the cloying smell of iron hit her like a slap. Gods, had she really walked around all evening in such a state?

Right, she thought, hanging it over the closet door and reaching for her only other; she knew exactly what she was going to do that day. She was going to go to the washer's well.

She undertook the ritualistic hop-step dance of getting changed, and wiggled around a little to get comfortable in her second dress. There was a reason that she preferred the other one: this one had fit her perfectly before the famine, but was now baggy. It still clung to her in all of the places that one would least expect, like the undersides of her shoulder blades, and her pointed elbows. She likely looked a state. But, being woefully dispossessed of a looking-glass, she found that she didn't really have the energy or the resources to care. The blue-black swelling on her cheek would not settle down for at least a week to come, and by then she would have better things to worry about.

After tying up the ribbons at her torso and making her bed, she staggered down to breakfast with the fantasmin in tow. The meal was uneventful and not unpleasant, if still a little awkward given the bird's self-isolation, and whilst she cleared their plates, she even succeeded in convincing it to come along for the day.

She left the mimic-bird in the kitchen as she wound her way past countless grand, lacquered doors and up the stairs to her room, where she fetched her cloak, coin purse, and second dress. There was a freshness to the air in the halls that morning that she could not quite place. The coming of spring? A storm? An omen? The light from the coloured-glass windows was murky but dustless, and her footsteps had a contented bounce to them as she counted the coloured doors along her path.

But there was also a strange echo to her clacking shoes. She was sure that they had never whispered back to her from around corners before, or scraped along the stone in closed-off halls. She walked faster, but the sound remained languid and distant. Who else could be in the castle with her? Who walked with such confidence, such grace?

A draft wafted over her from behind the bolted doors of the hall of stars, and as the thought came to its conclusion her heart leapt. Her mother.

She broke into a run.

"Ma!" she cried out, the words rising to fill the empty space, "Ma, is that you?"

The footsteps began to patter away from her, retreating.

"Wait! Please wait! I have so much to ask you-" she turned the corner onto the central corridor and continued straight. She was going too fast to catch her breath "I've missed you so mu-"

She had arrived in the main hall, a dead end. It was empty.

The princess instantly deflated. She stood, tracing every stone for signs of disturbance, catching her breath, until she was certain that the cause was lost. She pulled at her hair and held back the urge to yell. What did it mean? Why had she not visited earlier, when she was in pain, when she had needed it most? She sighed and pressed a cold palm to her bruise.

What would she have said, anyway? What would her mother have done at the sight of such a weakened and dishevelled daughter?

She trudged back to get the fantasmin.

XXX

The princess was surprised to find that the indoor washer's well was missing its usual proprietor, Kaminari, and was instead being overlooked by Todoroki. He seemed just as surprised to see her there as she was to see him.

"Oh, hello." He said, only his initial hesitance revealing that anything was amiss "Did Momo send you?"

"Huh? Not as far as I'm aware."

"Hm." He replied "Then, did Izuku?"

There was the subtlest of smiles as he said it. She recognised a kind of hope, a longing, in his words, and she hated it. She was disgusted by the boy in front of her and then disgusted by herself for daring to think such an evil thing.

Todoroki was in love with Midoriya. It was so obvious, so painfully clear, that she wondered why she had never noticed it before. He had the same sweet, far-away look that she had had, and a shyness that was so cute it was repulsive. It was like staring at her past self.

Had she really been the same as him? In fact (and it hit her with dread) she had probably been far worse. She had stuttered and turned bright red at the very mention of him, and accidentally sent herself floating off on more than one occasion.

It was hard to look at Todoroki now with anything other than pity. She knew only too well the pain of an unreturned love; how claustrophobic the beating of your own heart could become. Though he had never been an emotional boy, she knew that loving a someone as dense as Midoriya could only bring him a world of hurt.

Well, or would it? The two boys had something between them that Uraraka had failed to pinpoint, but was intensely aware of. Something to do with Todoroki's scar, and his father, and the fire magic that he had only started using late into the first winter. Something that held them together, and that she could never hope to know. Secrets had that funny way, by making those who did not know them outsiders, of forcing companionship and making their holders feel terribly special. Uraraka knew that she could not resent his secrets. Everybody had a few, after all, and who was she to deny him the pleasure of being held in confidence?

Most of her problems came from her secrets not being secrets at all, but for that she only had herself to blame. Todoroki would not trip over the same mistakes that she had.

As friends, they were not particularly close, but in that moment Uraraka realised that they had much more in common than she had previously thought. He was stone-faced and well-off, she was playful and thrifty; he loved Midoriya, but so had she. Gods help them, she mused, that he should not be so unlucky as she had to fall for that hopeless knight.

"No," she finally said "I'm afraid I came by myself, actually. Well, as by-myself as I can be with this bird."

She laughed a little and the fantasmin huffed.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but why are you in charge today?" she asked, leaning further over the counter and looking about "And where's Denki got to?"

"He's helping Momo with that order from the tinsmiths. They've covered every flat surface in the house with complicated bits of metal, and I was only getting in the way, so I thought I'd take over from Denki."

"How admirable."

"Thank you."

There was an awkward pause. Uraraka remembered that this was why she did not usually spend too much time with Todoroki.

"So, I've come to wash this dress," she hurried on, to break the silence "if I ask for a washboard and some soap, how much will I have to pay?"

He silently worked through the numbers in his head.

"Three cullets." He reached under the counter to pull out a wooden washboard and a dry cake of soap. "But since we know each other, and it's the festival period, I don't think that Denki will mind me asking you for only one."

"You don't have to!"

"No, I don't. You can spend the extra money if you'd like."

Again, Todoroki's comprehension of the exchange was stiff and unimaginative. The princess was now in the tricky and embarrassing position of not wanting to spend the extra money, and also not wanting to seem as if she were taking advantage. She thumbed the cold coins in her pockets and, with a deep sigh, conceded.

"Thank you. Here's a cullet."

She put the money directly in his outstretched palm. As she looked up at him, and he turned away to store the coin, the light on his face shifted to reveal extra-ordinary patches of blue beneath his eyes. And did she imagine it, or were his eyelids hanging heavier, and his movements slower than before? He looked as tired as death.

He turned back around, and was startled to see her still standing there. She tried her best to soften her voice.

"Are you… alright?"

"I'm tired." He replied, as weary as he looked "I couldn't get to sleep last night."

"Was it the dream?"

They looked at each other in silent comprehension. Each of the princess' friends was well acquainted with the revolting details of 'the dream', and its dreadful origin. It varied only slightly from person to person, and dropped in upon them in moments of quiet to remind them of what they had done. The past, their sins, would never leave them. Though Uraraka had never dreamed it, she had watched as the others shivered and pleaded in their sleep, and known the horror that stood behind it. They had all had their part to play in the creation of that appalling memory, and now they were bound together by its cold and unforgiving chains.

Todoroki sighed, and stared down at his hands on the counter.

"Momo made lamb stew last night." He said, quietly "It was delicious. It really was, and I tried to tell her that, but I think she knows. I think she knows what it reminds me of, because she must see it too." He sighed again, deeper "But it's not her fault, and I wish that she knew. She can't control the dream; it's always there, it's always going to haunt us, no matter what she does. It's just a part of life now. It's just a part of us."

Uraraka watched his mismatched eyes sink lower and lower, and felt a compulsion to place a hand on his. She knew that she should tell him that everything was going to be alright, that the memory would leave him one day, that though it was a part of him there were many, many other and better parts too - but she did not.

Todoroki did not want to hear the words from her; he wanted to hear them from Midoriya. She knew that later they would find each other, and grieve and comfort together, and she would not dare to intrude on the little solace that they provided each other. The two boys deserved each other's love far more than she.

XXX

The corridors leading to the indoor washing pools were ringing with song. As the princess and the fantasmin made their way towards the sound, they were regaled with a tuneful and vaguely familiar voice, singing a song to the regular beat of the washboards.

"I wish I was on yonder hill,

'Twas there I'd sit and cry my fill,

'Til every tear could turn a mill.

I wish I sat on my true love's knee,

Where many a fine story was told to me.

He told me things that ne'er shall be.

His hair was red, his soul was new,

His arm was strong, his word was true,

I wish in my heart I were with you.

Now go- errr… hang on, what came next?"

"Sorry Mina, you lost me on the second line."

"Ugh, you're useless."

"It's a Capcanish song, how am I supposed to know it?"

"You might at least've-"

Ashido stopped halfway through her sentence as she saw Uraraka emerge into the main washing-room. Such was her surprise at seeing the princess that she exclaimed "Snakes in a pond!", jumped backwards, and would certainly have fallen into one of the washing pools if not deftly caught by Kirishima.

"What are you doing here?"

"I might ask the same."

Lasandu's indoor washing-wells were a feat of design unique to the mountain. The first had been constructed many centuries ago by the Kindly King, to provide warm water for washing when the rivers were frozen hard, and many more had been established since as the people developed better hygienic habits.

They were wide and generally windowless to keep the heat, with running pools of spring water that were heated by fires under the tiled floor, the perfect size to lean over and wash with. Another adjacent room was hung with lines to hang the wet laundry from, and had a tight-fitting door and a little chimney to dry the clothes as quickly as possible.

They were so convenient to use that they had become a place to socialise as well as work, and were usually ringing with the steady rasp of the washboards and the light chatter of families and friends reconnecting.

Ashido and Kirishima stuck out less than they might have, having adopted the traditional Lasandunian layered clothing, but were still held distinct by Uraraka for a different reason: they were not washing their own clothes. One of Momo's favourite dresses was currently slung over Kirishima's shoulders, and Ashido was in the process of buttoning up one of Todoroki's shirts.

Ashido looked at Uraraka, then at the shirt she was holding, then back to Uraraka again.

"Oh!" she exclaimed "Don't worry, we haven't nicked anything. We were hanging out with Denki before, and when he went to help Momo we thought we'd better help out in one way or another. We might be staying at theirs until Katsuki's found, so we need to earn our keep."

"It was the manly thing to do. Besides," said Kirishima, growing a patch of red scales on his arm with a spark of magic "I'm like a human washboard when I'm in dragon form, so it's-"

He was interrupted by a squeal of delight from his companion, who had just noticed the fantasmin at the princess' side.

"Hello," she cooed at it, as if she were talking to a small child or a staggering newborn lamb "and how are you today?" she petted it with great affection, rubbing the top of its bone white skull "Have I missed you? Oh yes, yes I have! What a good bird you are! Oh yes you are! What a good bird!"

This unlikely sight caught Uraraka completely off-guard, and she forgot any antagonism that had previously been building. Watching the ugly creature try desperately to wiggle away from Ashido's boisterous caresses and into Kirishima's calmer mode of attention was a singly hilarious experience, and one that she would not give up for a very great sum of money.

Finally, the great bird settled down in the crook of Kirishima's legs, and would not be separated from them by even Ashido's most passionate attempts. The three of them laughed as it scowled and flapped, and sat down to wash together.

"So, uh, I hope you don't mind me askin'" started Ashido, as she folded one of Yaoyorozu's blouses "but how'd you get that, uh…" she pointed vaguely to her cheek "y'know? You didn't have it at the bathhouse yesterday."

Uraraka felt the raised contours of the bruise. Her hands were wet from washing, and the contact left a cold and faintly painful impression.

"I got into a fight with one of my suitors. Well, I'm not sure that you can rightly call it that; it's more that he jumped out at me and I defended myself quite violently."

Kirishima stopped scrubbing the clothes against the scales on his arms. His mouth had dropped open, and he looked absolutely appalled.

"An ambush? You've got it rough, prin- uh, I mean, dude. That's super un-manly."

"It isn't, but I think that's just par for the course with the Suitor's Game."

"Did you beat him?"

"Eventually, yes."

He breathed a sigh of relief. His sharp, shark-like teeth contrasted with his relaxed demeanor.

"Good for you."

Ashido, who had been silently folding the last of the dry clothes for the duration of the exchange, shot the princess a meaningful glare.

"Do you do that to every suitor you meet? Knock 'em dead?"

"Mina!" whipped Kirishima in alarm.

"We're here to support Katsuki, for salt's sake! Am I supposed to just accept that she could end him?"

"C'mon, he wouldn't do anything un-manly enough to get into that kind of situation. You gotta have a little faith in him, at least."

"But how can I?"

"Please, don't- "

"We have no idea what he's up to! I mean, he gave away his precious fantasmin. He knows how attached it is to you. Why would he do that?"

The bird twittered from Kirishima's side, as if to agree. The boy sighed, and gave it a delicate pat.

"I don't know either, man. We've just gotta hope he knows what he's doing."

Ashido massaged her temples.

"Yeah, I know." She smiled gently at him "I'm sorry for flyin' off the handle. It's just… stressful, y'know? The last thing I want is to fight with you, Ei. I know we're both worried about him."

There was a pause. The princess felt their eyes turn towards her, and tried her best to pretend that she had not noticed.

Throughout this fraught exchange Uraraka had been awkwardly attempting to minimise her presence, and had very nearly succeeded. She had busied herself with rubbing the soap into a lather and attacking the blood stains all over her dress. A great deal of the dried blood had returned to its liquid state and flowed away already, but the crusty brown residue was proving tough to remove. She jammed her washboard between her knees, and prepared to scrub away at it with all her might, when she was stopped by Ashido.

"Is that blood?" she asked, walking over.

The princess gave a timid nod.

"Don't use that soap." Said Ashido authoritatively "It's going to bake in the stain. Momo explained it earlier. It's like… blood is, uh, I think the word was 'acid'? Anyway, blood is sour, and soap is like… whatever the opposite of sour is, so you'll only make things worse."

"Oh… right. I suppose I'll just, uhm…"

Ashido leaned over. Her hands emitted a bright pink light, and began to ooze a clear, viscous liquid. She cupped a palmful of the astringent-smelling substance and crouched down beside the washboard.

"Listen, I get we're not on great terms 'n stuff, but I'd hate to see such a nice dress ruined. I can help - my magic is to make sour water. Well, Momo says it's more complicated 'n that, and I can make vinegar or spirit of hartshorn, but the gist is that I've got what you need to get that dress the right colour again."

Uraraka peered into her pink palms, and was immediately hit with the acrid smell of vinegar. She pinched her nose.

"Are you sure it'll work?"

"I've done it a gazillion times before."

Hesitantly, she handed over her dress, and Ashido smeared the browned areas with the thick secretion. She used her fingers to gently work it into the fabric, diligently rubbing the weave against itself to increase its absorption. The princess watched with baited breath and slowly, right before her very eyes, the bloodstains vanished. After running it under the warm water to wash away the excess, Ashido handed back a dress that looked brand-new.

Uraraka gazed at the clean new dress in awe and bewilderment. It looked the brightest she had seen it in months, and even the lacings appeared to have regained their shine. She looked up, bubbly and breathless, and fell into a bow.

"Thank-you!" she said "Thank-you ever so much! I was really worried that I would have to give it up, and it was my best."

Ashido stood and stretched.

"It's no problem. I get it, y'know, how much clothes can mean to a girl." She smirked "Or a boy, for that matter." She directed a pointed look to Kirishima.

"Hey, what are you trying to imply?!" he protested.

"Don't you remember those awful shoes full of holes you used to wear?"

He put a folded blouse away on top of a pair of Todoroki's trousers.

"I liked 'em." he pouted.

"I know. I guess your commitment to them was quite manly, in its own way." She relented.

Kirishima pumped his fist.

"Best thing I've heard all day! Now come 'ere and help me with the bedsheets."

Uraraka, who had been working the crinkles out of her wet dress' collar, interjected nervously.

"Uhm, could I help you at all? Only, you've been so kind to me, and I've finished my washing already now…"

The pair grinned at each other. Ashido's arms glowed a vibrant rosy colour as she began to secrete more goo, and Kirishima threw the princess a pillow case.

"Many hands make light work." He said with a smile.

XXX

They had already fallen into a comfortable silence as they worked on their separate pieces of bed-linen, occasionally leaving to hang them up in the drying-room at the far end, and become quite relaxed in each other's presence when Ashido piped up again.

"Say, don't you think now's the perfect time to get the fantasmin to sing?"

The bird rolled its molten-rock eyes at her.

"Aw, come on." She coaxed "You liked singing well enough when Katsu-babe asked you."

"We've only got a little left." added Kirishima "Just for a bit, do you think you could manage?"

It narrowed its eyes, and twisted a bit to get comfortable, but still complied. Suddenly, the washing hall was alive with its fantastic hollow voice, and a song that flowed like the water itself. The notes vaulted off the high stone ceiling and bounced over the crinkles in the washboards, filling the room with sound. Light tunes were followed by melancholic melodies, and as the song swelled and ebbed it seemed to form the rolling curves of a hill.

Uraraka was so entranced that she had completely ceased to work. It was with difficulty that she wrenched herself from the sound, and turned back to Ashido.

"What's the name of this song?" she said "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

Ashido chuckled.

"High praise indeed! It's just a Capcanish shepherd's song, though. A call-and-response one at that."

The princess cocked an eyebrow.

"Call-and-response?"

"Like, one person sings one verse and then someone else sings back the next. So, for instance, this one's called 'the three ravens', and each singer has to sing a different raven's verse."

"How curious…"

"There's a reason for it!" laughed Kirishima "I didn't get it at first either, but it's actually super useful for when you're out on the fells."

Abandoning any semblance of labour for the pursuit of curiosity, Uraraka leaned over with wide eyes.

"It gets really misty in Capcana," explained Ashido "and the hills are long and low and flat, so if you get lost it can be really hard to find your way. Sometimes you can't even see the green beneath your feet! If you're out foraging with someone, and the mist rolls in, you sing a call-and-response to stop you getting separated. You shout a verse at the top of your lungs, and that way they can hear you and try to work out where you are. And then they sing the next verse, and you can try to find them. And it goes on and on until you've got your hand in theirs, and you can make your way together."

"That's… actually quite clever."

"It's bloody terrifying when you actually need to use it for the first time." Recalled the pink girl with a shiver "I remember I was with my mum, and I was only about four summers old, and the rain was setting in something fierce. Ugh. Doesn't bear remembering."

The princess paused, and put a hand on her (non-bruised) cheek to think.

"Now that I think about it, we have something similar."

The fantasmin continued to sing behind them, voice ringing like a bell.

"Up here it's the blizzards, and the wind, that are a problem. You take a bell, so it chimes and you can find each other."

"Oh, neat. You'd probably waste less time wearing out your voice, too."

Uraraka continued shyly.

"In fact, that's what lovers give each other when they get married. A little bell on a chain to go around your neck. So you can always find each other."

"Awwww," chirped Ashido "that's cute."

"Wait."

Kirishima seemed rather confused by the previous statement. He sat, frowning at the bedsheet on his lap, and chewed his lip.

"You give each other bells around your neck… like goats?"

The girls burst into riotous laughter, cutting off the alarmed fantasmin. By the time that they had calmed themselves down, the washing was all done, and Uraraka fetched it to the hot-room to dry.

When she returned, she found that a pair of strangers had wandered over to gawk at the fantasmin, which was quickly retreating into the safety of Kirishima's arms. A girl about her own age and a much younger child were peering curiously at it. There was a curious pang in the princess' heart as she realised that the child must already have forgotten the existence of adults, of a life before hardship.

"Birdie!" the little boy squealed with delight as he reached out to pet it.

"Ooh," swooped in Uraraka gracefully "I wouldn't do that. This birdie bites, you know."

He shrank back, grabbing at his older sister's skirts until she picked him up.

"Sorry about him. I think he just got over-excited; you know how kids are." Said the sister apologetically, before turning to Uraraka "Is it really the princess' bird? However did you get it out here?"

"I- uh, I'm the princess' handmaid." She lied ineptly "She was busy with her, uh, royal duties, so I had to take it out for an airing."

"Well, isn't that something? Is it hard to walk around with, what with those crazy suitors about and all?"

"Uhm, it's definitely hard to predict what they're up to." She replied, wary of the two friends of a suitor behind her.

"You know," whispered the stranger conspiratorially "I think I've worked out where one of them is hiding."

Kirishima and Ashido turned their heads to eavesdrop.

"Really? Which one?"

"Oh, I can't remember the name. I saw him in the window of that old weaver's shop, acting all suspicious-like. Kind of wild hair, with those eyes that go up at the edges."

Uraraka could feel her heartbeat thumping. It all sounded familiar, like the boy she had met in the night. He was so close, she thought, he was within her reach. She could find him, ask him about the dreams.

"The weaver's shop on the east side?"

"Yes, that's the one. Can you believe it? I saw two more dead this morning, mind, but it's strange to think he hasn't been caught yet."

"Yes, that's… odd."

From his perch in the girl's arms, the little boy began to whine.

"I wanna go hooome!"

"Yes, alright," she consoled, then turned back to the princess "Sorry for taking your time like this, but it really is an interesting bird. Buh-bye now! Stay safe!"

Uraraka watched as the pair walked off, and then spun around to Kirishima and Ashido. They looked at her with wild eyes.

"You don't think it's Katsuki, do you?"

"I… don't know. I think I'm going to pick up my dress and go now, if you don't mind."

She walked off, although Ashido had more to say. When she returned, the pink girl blocked her path.

"You're going to go looking for him, aren't you?"

The princess scrambled.

"No! Yes- maybe, I don't know. If he's there, I have to see him."

"You know I can't let you do that- he's our friend."

"Please, I have to see him. I know it, somehow."

"How?"

"It's- it's complicated, alright?"

"Is it really complicated enough to merit putting his life at risk?"

"I'm not going to be putting his life at risk."

Uraraka motioned to the fantasmin to come along, and it begrudgingly waddled to her side. Ashido watched it go with frustration, determined not to let her leave.

"Are you sure? Are you really, honestly sure?"

"I'm as sure as you are."

"What?"

"You said it yourself, didn't you? That you were sure he'd never hurt me?"

Ashido bit her lip and finally stepped away. Kirishima wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"It's going to be alright, Mina." He soothed.

"I know. I mean, I don't know- Katsuki's such an idiot."

"It's going to be alright."

The princess gave a half-hearted nod, and began to walk away. Though she had been sat with them only minutes ago, suddenly she felt that they were worlds apart.

"Wait!"

Ashido's shout echoed through the stone corridor.

"If you find him, what will you do?"

In the dark of the winding couloir, Uraraka stood still. She opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn't know what to say.

A/N: A family isn't always a man and a woman. Sometimes it's two teenagers and their weird, eldritch bird.