A/N: The plot thickens...amongst other things.
A/N2: My muses have been unusually kind to me. So have another chapter!
That night, Darcy did not dream she was a wolf. Instead, she dreamt she was a little girl again. She lay in her big bed at grandmother's and waited for her nightly bedtime story from grandfather. Although she loved grandmother's stories, it was a treat when grandfather offered her one. He talked about worlds she never could imagine and of creatures full of wonder. Grandfather told Darcy what was safe to eat from the earth and what to avoid. He told her how to respect the animals hidden in the forests and to listen to their cries. Everyone had something to contribute and a kingdom should be built off the love of its people, not off their backs. She thought he taught her the last one was because he didn't like her father so much but Darcy thinks he only misses her mom.
There was always a lesson in his stories, even if she didn't always understand them. But most important of all, he told her to never be afraid. He told her the forest would protect her, which she thought was a silly thing to say. What can the forest do for a little girl if there were mean monsters hiding in its shadows, waiting to gobble her whole?
The full moon shone bright through the window, leaving a line of gold light on her thick blanket. After growing tired of waiting for her grandfather, Darcy decided to look out the window and search for shooting stars. Grandmother said that you can wish on them and sometimes your wishes come true. Darcy isn't sure what she should wish for. She wished enough for her mother to come back but she'd realised that might not happen. As Darcy looked out the window and at the twinkling night sky, she closed her eyes and thought real hard about a wish. Instead, she when she opened her eyes, she saw a small orb of yellow light dancing on the window sill.
A small gasp left her throat when upon closer inspection, the light turned out to be a glowing little woman. The redheaded woman was beautiful with wings like a dragonfly that twinkled with all the colors of dew at dawn. She smiled at Darcy and offered a wink. It must be a fairy! Her sister, Jane, always insisted they didn't exist but Peggy told Darcy she could believe in whatever she wanted. If only they were here to see this.
When Darcy remembered her manners, she stepped back and curtsied, just like her stepmother had showed her. The fairy seemed to appreciate the thought and whispered something back. Except Darcy didn't understand it. It sounded like no language she'd ever heard and she was being taught both Latin and French. The fairy didn't seem to mind. It floated up into the air and made a slow path towards her door, which opened without any assistance. Stopping at the open door, the fairy turned back and said something else. Darcy assumed it meant the fairy wanted her to follow when she gestured with her tiny arm.
So, Darcy did.
As they walked outside the cottage and down the path, the fairy sang the most beautiful song Darcy had ever heard. She tried to hum along, even if she didn't get all the notes right. The fairy sang the same words over and over, in different ways but Darcy eventually learned to repeat some of them.
"Lean mise bànrigh bheag," Darcy sang with the fairy, "madaidhean-allaidh a 'leantainn bhànrigh aca ."
The more they sang together, the more jovial the fairy became. She flew and wove through the trees of the forest and giggled through the night. All the while, Darcy skipped behind and did her best to keep up. The further into the forest they went, the faster the fairy flew. They laughed together as they sang, forgetting about the story her grandfather was supposed to tell and the men her father wanted her to marry.
That was a strange thought. Marriage. Darcy wasn't sure where that came from, especially since she was only eight and her father said he'd promised her mother that Darcy could marry for love. He told her that she was a princess and deserved a prince, but she should never repeat that to anyone because the King wouldn't be happy to hear that.
A deep voice called out Darcy's name and she stopped dancing. When she looked about, all she saw were more glowing orbs forming from mid-air. Each one was a fairy and they joined in on the song until it drowned out the voice of the man. All the fairies' voices rose and hummed, swayed and harmonized. They danced in the air and Darcy joined them. She spun and spun until her hair flew out around her and her night shift hiked up her legs. She sang with the fairies and watched as they swarmed around her, like they were trying to engulf her into a crashing wave.
Yet, a niggling voice in the back of her mind begged her to wake up. From what, she wasn't sure. A man called out her name and the rumbling of his voice caused her heart to skip a beat. The fairies still danced around her and they showed no signs of hearing this man. Looking around, Darcy couldn't seem to find him but he sounded quite worried. Her heart sank and she wasn't sure why. Now, standing completely still amongst the frenzied fae, Darcy watched as they dance and sang. They were celebrating but she wasn't sure what and why.
Suddenly, the red headed fairy floated a yard away from Darcy. The look on her face was mischievous as she reached out a tiny hand.
"Follow me little Queen, follow me again," the fairy sang in a low and almost menacing tone. Darcy let out a muffled sound of surprise at how the fairy could speak in English. "You can find your way inside the dark wolf's den."
Before Darcy could ask what the fairy meant, the fairy's hand touched Darcy's forehead, and she woke with a shuttering gasp.
When Darcy opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the middle of a ring of mushrooms. Waking felt as if a cold, bucket of winter water had been poured over her head, chilling her to the bone. The waxing moon shone high but clouds quickly gathered in the sky. It was perhaps three nights away from a full moon. Even without the moon's light, Darcy would have realised from her chattering teeth that she stood in only her thinnest shift. She wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her hands up and down skin for warmth. Rain was coming. She could smell it in the air and earth.
A thick fabric was thrown around her and Darcy's body stiffened in fear. Was someone trying to steal her away? For the first time since she could remember, Darcy was afraid in the woods. She grit her teeth before shouting, "Stand back, fiend!"
"Good, you're awake and obviously in your normal temper," Brock said, voice colored with humour but underneath concern dwelled. Relief washed over Darcy. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes briefly, trying to get her heartbeat to slow. Brock moved to stand in front of her, hands gripped on her upper arms as if he was worried she would disappear completely. He frowned when he felt her chilled skin.
"What happened?" Darcy asked. Sleep still lingered in her eyes and she rubbed the sand away. The last thing she remembered was waiting for a bedtime story. Grandfather had promised her a story but... her grandfather was dead. The image of a tiny, little glowing fairy that looked very much like the one she saw in this very ring many years ago, flashed in Darcy's mind.
"I think you were trying to join the fairies in their evening dance," teased Brock but his usual goading tone fell flat. Darcy tugged the fabric closer to her body. It was a rough wool and she could just make out the dark green, blue and brown lines. She didn't remember ever seeing it in his hut before but she recognised the pattern as a plaid. A signifier of clans from the north. "I saw you wandering the forest- half naked, again, mind you. I thought to follow you in case you truly got yourself into trouble. I'd hoped to gloat once you realised my ignored advice was worthwhile. When you did not answer me, I realised you were dream walking."
"Dream walking?" Darcy repeated, wrinkling her nose lightly in confusion. She'd never heard of such a thing.
"Yes. Uncommon but I have seen it before. A gentleman in the clan would, on occasion, dream so deep that he would travel the village in a slumber. It was generally amusing and harmless as he'd just wake up amongst some annoyed sheep," said Brock as he let go of Darcy's shoulders. She grew colder without the innocent touch but her cheeks flushed when she took in his appearance. He wore a thin shirt and breeches. Similar to the night he first found her here. A hard, cold wind picked up and goose skin covered Darcy's bare legs. Hundreds of pin pricks burned along the skin. When she looked down, she saw long, thin scratches covering her lower legs and dirt cloying to the small open wounds. Obviously, she'd not stopped to put on shoes before 'dream walking'.
"Oh, I must not have felt that," Darcy admitted softly. She curled her toes into the soft moss and a sharp twinge clenched her muscles. It was a strange circumstance, to be sure, but Darcy didn't know what to make of it. She followed a fairy in her dreams into the very mushroom ring she and Brock had been unable to find on their own. "How did you find me? Why were you out in the forest at night? Aren't you afraid of the beasts you insist live here?"
"You forgot your basket. I remembered just as I began to settle for bed. It felt like rain was approaching and I went to retrieve it for you," Brock answered honestly. It warmed Darcy from her stomach, right down to her fingertips and toes. When he noticed her silly little smile, he let out a huff as if he were embarrassed to be caught in such a chivalrous act. Her hands tightened on the plaid around her shoulders and she shot him another questioning gaze. He cleared his throat but continued in a low mumble. "I thought, it was turning out to be such a chilly night, that you could use the plaid for warmth."
"And you were fully intent on knocking on my door, even though my grandmother had long past fallen asleep?" Darcy asked coyly. As much as Darcy knew she shouldn't be excited at the prospect, pleasure struck her heart like a bolt of lightning. It caused her heart to skip a beat and blood rushed to the crest of her thighs when he grinned like a wolf about to catch an unawares rabbit in his jaws.
"You say that with all the excitement of a woman who wants a strange man to knock on her door, especially once her grandmother has long past fallen asleep," Brock said, crossing his arms with and a cocksure smile twisting his lips.
"Well, it's never happened to me before. It's...nice to have a slightly different adventure," Darcy said, cheeks heating. She looked down at her feet, trying to avoid Brock's gaze for fear she might reveal something she'd later regret. Though, now she was standing in the middle of the forest without any shoes or dress, she supposed pride had been left behind quite a few paces back.
"I should hope next time you have a midnight adventure, you avoid the brambles," Brock said with a soft sigh, eyes dropping down to her feet. "You'll need to wash out the dirt. They look shallow but you don't want to risk a fever."
"Grandmother has a salve I can use when I get back," Darcy mumbled with a frown, brow wrinkling slightly in concern. "Now that I'm awake, I can be a little more careful walking back."
"Come," Brock said after a long beat, voice resigned and determined. "I'll take you to the stream."
Before Darcy could insist that they had fresh water at her grandmother's, Brock stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms. She inhaled sharply and still found herself breathless. Brock held her as if she were a light, precious bundle. Her head naturally lay against his chest and shoulder. Heat radiated off him like a roaring fire and she closed her eyes as she let it seep into her skin. A gentle calm swept over her the moment he cradled her in his arms. All urge to argue dispersed like smoke.
"I followed a fairy," Darcy said wistfully as Brock made his way out of the mushroom ring. "In my dreams, I was following a fairy. I think they wanted me to dance with them."
"Did they offer any advice for your predicaments?" Brock asked and he sounded as if he were trying to dampen his own curiosity. For a moment, Darcy hesitated. The fairy said something about a wolf's den. At first, she thought it was her mind jumbling her thoughts about her grandfather and her fading memories. But now she was in Brock's arms, Darcy wondered if there was something more to Jane's insistence that dreams were sometimes the way for the unconscious to help when one was too thick headed during waking hours.
"No," Darcy eventually answered. Suspicion flashed across Brock's face but he didn't press her. A tiny, impish giggle caught Darcy's attention. She arched back her neck so that she could see behind Brock. They had already left the mushroom ring and were just about to reenter the heavily wooded forest but a small orb of light now floated in the middle of the circle. Biting her lip to hold in her gasp of shock, Darcy blinked. When her eyes opened, the light had disappeared. Swallowing past a lump in her throat, she wondered if she just imagined the entire thing.
They walked in silence towards the stream. Darcy chewed on her bottom lip as she contemplated the fairies of her dream. Did the fairies actually want her to join the fae world? Would they have succeeded if Brock hadn't intervened and did she even still want that? Surely, dancing with the fairies till the end of her days would surely solve her unwanted marriage. But now that she was snuggled against Brock's chest, she can't help but consider death by blistered feet and exhaustion didn't hold as much appeal. Maybe that's what they truly wanted to show her: a life with the fae was not Darcy's destiny. Her destiny was possibly a little bit closer than she realized.
Once they reached the muddy, rocky edge of the slow stream, Brock set Darcy down gradually. She gingerly made her way into the water, crawling down mossy rocks and grabbing onto visible roots for support. The water was not freezing but the cool air did not help matters. The little cuts along her legs stung but she continued deeper into the shallow stream. When the water was mid-calf and the highest it would reach, she balled up the plaid and tossed it in Brock's face. He let out an amused snort as he caught the fabric. Darcy proceeded to cup the water and pour it down her knees, gently brushing away the dirt and dried blood. When she was satisfied that she'd done all she could, Darcy walked back to the stream's edge. Her eyes were focused on where she stepped as she tried to avoid slipping on the smooth, mossy rocks lining the stream.
Back on the shore where grass met damp earth, Darcy's head rose and caught Brock's blatant stare. His body was stock still but his muscles flexed and his eyes were fixed on her figure. The moon's light shone above her and with her thin shift, the fabric was just about transparent. Liquid heat pooled in places she knew no true lady would admit to and Darcy's skin tingled with a pleasant buzz. Instead of using her arms to shield her body, Darcy took another step forward and met Brock's gaze with brazenness.
Air escaped quickly from Brock's chest in a low hiss. For a few beats, his eyes appeared transfixed by her curves, but then a wicked grin transformed his face into that of a predator. Yet, Darcy did not find herself afraid. She didn't entirely feel like prey either. Anticipation tightened her nipples and they brushed against her shift. The sensation sent little waves of pleasure down to her gut.
Brock opened up the plaid. In a swift movement, he swung it up and over Darcy's head. He dragged Darcy towards him like she were a fish caught in a net. Darcy fell headfirst into Brock's broad chest. A searing heat radiated off his body, branding her until all she could think about was his skin against hers. The comforting scent of cloves and wood smoke engulfed her senses. When she looked up, her eyes widened just as Brock bent down to capture her lips with his.
The moment their lips touched, Darcy felt a cacophony of cannons explode inside her chest. It must have been her heart beating wildly. If she weren't resting her hands on his chest, Darcy would have fallen over from dizziness. Brock's lips moving against hers in a firm tenderness. It rendered any image of kissing she'd previously held as childish. He dropped the plaid to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her flush against his body. A sigh bubbled up her throat but turned into a deep moan when his tongue slipped into her mouth. Brock's hand cradled the back of Darcy's neck, urging her to arch her head back and open up more. She allowed his tongue to move along hers and a shiver of euphoria ran down her spine. The heat between Darcy's thighs roiled and a voice nudged the back of Darcy's mind, insisting Brock could somehow ease it. Something stiffened against her belly and she pressed herself up closer to him. A grunt sounded in his chest and despite Darcy's protests, Brock broke the kiss.
"I should take you back to your grandmother's," Brock insisted, voice gruff and dreamy. His breath came out in short, heavy gasps and his arms began to loosen their hold. He tried to step back, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
"And if I don't want to go?" Darcy whispered, following close when he tried to create distance between them. In what must have been a fit of madness, she rubbed her nose against the dip right below his Adam's apple. His body softened around her as what little resolve he'd found melted. "Perhaps we don't have to go back tonight."
A wolf howled in the distance. The noise was aching, as if it were calling out to lost brothers. It travelled along the wind and the haunting pitch caused a shiver to run down Darcy's spine. The reply of more wolves joined and their voices rose in a mournful song. They all sounded lost. A pang of regret gripped Darcy's heart and her lust filled haze began to break as longing for their plight overwhelmed her.
Beneath her hands, she could feel Brock's muscles tense. When she looked up, she found his jaw clenched and concern shining in his eyes. This time, he took a large step away and she didn't fight. Although wolves were common enough, there hadn't been one near this village since her grandfather's death. Unease at the return of the animals meshed with the disappointment of losing Brock's warmth.
"I am taking you back," Brock said. There was no room left for argument. His voice was stern, as if he were used to ordering legions of men and never receiving backtalk. A large cloud flew over the moon, blocking out much of the light and Darcy's eyes fought to adjust to the darkness. Picking up the forgotten plaid and wrapping it around her shoulders, Darcy only nodded when Brock gestured for her to follow. When they were a dozen paces from the stream, Brock lifted Darcy back in his arms but his previous tenderness was long gone. With the aid of the moon peeking through the clouds, Brock walked Darcy back to the safety of her grandmother's home. They even picked up her basket along the way but neither one of them spoke. The silence hung heavy between them. On occasion, it was punctuated with a faint howl. Darcy worried she'd ruined what little progress they'd made.
Brock left Darcy on her grandmother's doorstep. As she watched Brock walk away, a sharp pain clenched her heart. She wanted to cry out for him to stay, even if it was just to hold her until sunrise. She wanted to run after him and beg to sleep in his arms. Instead, she walked inside the cottage and let her lungs fill with misery until she felt as if she were drowning. Ladies did not conduct themselves like wanton creatures but if that meant she could never again feel Brock's lips against hers, then she was fine ignoring all the lessons and warnings she once heeded. If the fairies wanted her in the wolf's den, then Darcy would make herself quite comfortable. With that new resolve, she crawled back into bed and fell into a dreamless slumber.