A fairy in a diaphanous dress of pure white was bending over his body. Mesmerized by her ethereal beauty, Keith couldn't make sense of what she was doing immediately. Her eyes — illuminated by a cozy, golden light — met his, and she breathed a sigh of relief. In those eyes he saw the woods of Jade under the sun, fields full of crops ready to be harvested, the gemstones of the Arcadia glowing with a long lost magical power. In those eyes he also saw an immense compassion for him. An immense… love?

His fingers dared to reach for the skin of her face, soft and welcoming to his touch. Keith felt that her presence accepted everything he was, everything he did, and in her he could grow into anything he wanted to be. He wasn't a failure anymore. He was simply… himself. Peacefully belonging to a natural flux of life. Then it dawned on him that she wasn't a fairy. She was the Goddess; the very essence of Jade. Around her, birds chanted, and flowers bloomed in many colors.

"Keith?"

Her hand touched his face in return, and he leaned towards it, the scent of life on her skin filling his lungs. The yearning for her contact was a visceral need, and her body gave his a much needed warmth. Keith wished she could lie down there with him, gazing at the stars together. He wished he could lie down in her and experience in awe the beauty of Creation. Gently pulling her closer was a movement somehow carved into his memory, as if he was born to hold her body against his. Making love to her would be as natural as the river near them flowing to become one with the ocean, and desire coursed through his veins.

"Keith? Come back to me," her voice was a melodic song calling him, pleading for him, and he responded to this call by capturing her lips in his.

She moaned, her breath immersing him in a steam of hot delight. Her mouth of tender, moist flesh was locked against his, and he knew that if her lips parted, a world of wonders would be revealed to him, with a sky filled with sparkling jewels and a sea of liquid honey that could quench every thirst and fulfill every need.

They didn't part for him, however, and instead of all of the sweet promises that made his heart flutter in a way he never knew, what Keith got was a sharp noise together with a burning, sudden pain on the side of his face that made his eyes shut immediately.

"Come back to your senses!" Her voice was now firm, albeit pained.

Somehow everything became as cold as it had been in the boat, and his body trembled. Keith opened his eyes slowly, noticing the twilight sky above him and a soothing cackling of fire nearby. The sudden realization that the ethereal mist had dissipated like a dream lost to reality made his chest tighten in panic. The warm presence he felt was not the Goddess but Maeve, and he looked at her completely flustered in shame. Did he… kiss her? Or had it just been his imagination? Her face was flushed and sorrowful, and she held her wrist close to her chest. The white dress he had seen in his visions was her underdress, disheveled and with a ragged edge on the right shoulder where the sleeve had been torn off. The smell he felt on her hand was blood, and the foreboding red smeared the sheer garment.

It became a matter more crucial than any other.

"Are you hurt?" Keith asked. The urge to help her took over the shame he felt. He tried to sit up immediately, noticing his body was enveloped partially by her black cloak and his white one, but Maeve's hands stopped him. The gesture gave him a sense of déjà vu.

Maeve looked down at Keith's waist with worried eyes, seemingly returning to reality herself. "I'm not hurt. You are," she said, "the wound opened, and your body is freezing. I couldn't risk him finding you, but I should've been more careful." She shook her head and pressed the injury with a soft piece of fabric. To Keith's surprise, it hurt less than he expected. "I'm sorry," she added.

"Him?" He placed his hands over hers and squeezed them slightly, noticing the difference between their body temperatures. "Who was here? Did he do anything to you?"

Maeve winced and tilted her head awkwardly to the side, as if in discomfort. "Master Fintan wasn't here, but he was close," she explained. "He sent his aura to check on me. If it had detected your movements or energy, he would have taken you back to Caisteal na Sí immediately."

"Did he do anything to you?" Keith persisted on the question, feeling she wasn't being entirely honest with her answer.

"He didn't," Maeve's eyes closed for a moment longer than a normal blink. "He just connected with me telepathically in a way that isn't very pleasant, but it is harmless nonetheless. We're used to it in Caisteal," she sighed and slid her hands off of his, holding his hands in place as if silently asking him to keep pressing the wound.

Keith wondered how life really was in Caisteal na Sí. He remembered the conversation he had with him in that boat; something definitely felt off about that place. But Maeve resumed talking before he could inquire with her: "We'll have to spend the night here because the sun is already setting, and it's too dangerous to cross the woods at night. I've already lit a fire and put our clothes to dry. Now I'll prepare the fish for us to eat, is that ok?"

"Ah… sure…" A wave of heat flowed to his face when he realized she had taken off his damped clothes to dry. Keith understood why Maeve did it, but he was all too self-conscious about it. The fact that he could catch a glimpse of just how sheer her underdress was when she moved around to prepare the fish by the fire only made it worse.

The contrast between the cold, deep blue light of the sky and the hot, orange glow of the flames beautifully accentuated her silken skin. The shadow of her curves swinging naturally beneath the linen garment was more wonderful and exciting than any ethereal vision could be. He wondered how Maeve could be so casual about it. Maybe she wasn't aware that his eyes could capture the contour of her breasts, the peak of her nipples, or the round shape of her hips. It made desire burn like a sin in his loins, and Keith tried to discreetly check just how efficiently the cloak could hide his physical reactions.

Perhaps his body temperature would no longer be an issue.

"I want to try something," she announced, her voice pulling him out of his stupor. Finally he noticed the fish were already roasting in spits improvised with branches, and Maeve had been using a rustic dagger to crush a couple of umbraria. It was a relief to see the flowers and branches he didn't use for the crown found a purpose in the end. "If your wound is corrupted, I believe this might help. What do you think?"

"An umbraria poultice…" Keith made an effort to focus on the idea and stop staring at her. "According to what you've said about its medicinal properties, it might help increase the blood flow to the wound, causing a sort of bloodletting but also purging in case it is corrupted."

"It is not common practice to use umbraria as a poultice; it is more commonly used in tonics. However, I have a feeling," Maeve smiled to herself, a timid but noticeable expression. Finally, she looked at Keith, and he was grateful that she hadn't caught him gazing at her tempting figure. "Umbraria has the potential to balance your humors and aid in your body's recovery."

Humors. He was familiar with Hippocrates's teachings on the physical constitution of an individual and how equilibrium was important for health.

"Too much phlegm, isn't it?" He chuckled faintly. Keith was naturally a phlegmatic person, pathetic and swamped in shadows. His injuries ensured that he was more useless than usual and being in a dark, moist place like the Dark Forest sure made it worse. A flower that retained in itself light and heat could really help him balance his humors and get him up on his feet as he needed to be. Maeve was insightful, and he admired it.

"Your other face is drier," she casually observed with a half-shrug, and Keith remembered that he told him she knew. Watching her speaking of it as if it was something trivial baffled him still.

"Aren't you…" scared of it? Weirded out by it? No, it didn't sound right. She was obviously at peace with it, just stating it as a fact. "Do you…" think it's normal? Why? Still, it wasn't the question he felt like putting out loud now. "Do you wish he was here instead?"

This. For some reason, this is what scared him the most at the moment. Perhaps she liked his choleric nature better, and why would she not? He wished he could be as assertive and strong as him. Those were attractive features in a man, not the fragility he showed again and again to her.

"It is up to you which face you'll show me. The wound needs to be treated for you both anyway," Maeve smiled soothingly and reapproached him, leaning in to take off the piece of fabric that was covering his wound — and only then he found out that's what the sleeve of her underdress had become —, and smoothly replaced it with the poultice. Her answer was a little vague, but ultimately she seemed to accept them both. Maybe this was all he could ask for. Acceptance. "Now we have to focus on keeping you warm and draining the excessive fluids from your body."

Her words along with the little freckles he found sprinkled on the top of her shoulder where the sleeve once had been made his mind wander dangerous grounds again. There were… ways… of naturally draining fluids from one's body. Keith took a deep breath and cursed his own thoughts when she was so close. He really needed to focus.

And he really needed to be thankful he was the one in control now, not him. Imagining what he would be doing to her exposed and vulnerable like this made him quiver for many, awfully conflicted reasons.

"So, poultice and standing close to the fire it is, I guess," Keith smiled awkwardly, and her eyes met his in a way that made him wonder if he had said his previous thoughts out loud. Or worse, if she could use telepathy to read his mind without him noticing it.

The only thing he knew for certain was that Maeve would never share the wicked desires he felt for her.

"Mother," Fintan bowed to take her hand as she remained seated by the fireplace. He kissed her fingers with reverence and settled into the armchair beside her. The Lady of Néart recognized his weariness; he had just returned from the day's search party, a demanding undertaking. Yet, his golden eyes glistened in the flickering firelight, and his vibrant red hair seemed to glow like living flames. He appeared powerful, dignified, unstoppable — and still a son who treated her with utmost respect.

She had indeed raised him well.

"I wish we could cease expending our time and resources on this search, but the court is growing increasingly discontented," the Lady sighed with exasperation. It was to be expected, of course, but no less troublesome.

Taking a sip from the teacup in her hand, chamomile to calm her heart and bring rest, the Lady signaled for the young servant in the room to also serve Fintan.

"Have the oracles remained silent?" Fintan crossed his legs and looked at his mother inquiringly, while the servant quietly prepared his tea.

"They have. Wherever the prince stag is, he is alive," she said, her gaze fixed on the little yellow flowers swirling idly in her cup. "He's either shirking his responsibilities or too injured to return."

"If he fails to return in time, will we still proceed with the Sacred Communion?" Fintan asked, hastily finishing his tea in a single gulp.

"Naturally," it wasn't even supposed to be a question, so she knew he had an ulterior motive for asking.

"Can Maeve attend it, then?" Their eyes locked as he posed the question. In the silence that followed, the servant discreetly collected Fintan's cup, placing it back on the tray.

"What's with the sudden interest in her, may I ask?" Her own cup hovered mid-air, its contents growing colder by the second.

"She was the favored match for the prince stag, was she not? I'm merely curious about what she brings to the table," Fintan explained nonchalantly, though his demeanor failed to convince the Lady. She knew his persistence when something piqued his interest.

"The prince is meek, Maeve is dull. They are both talentless, useless... They are a suitable match, plain and simple. There is no hidden significance," the Lady lowered her cup and signaled for the servant to collect it. As he approached, she placed it in his hand, holding it for a moment to convey her unspoken message.

"Well, if it's truly so meaningless, she wouldn't be in exile by now," Fintan's gaze shifted to the fireplace as he rested his chin on his hand, feigning disinterest.

"There are certain things you underestimate, my son," with her hands now empty, the Lady gripped the armrests of her chair. "Just forget about this girl. She wouldn't even be here if not for Una's pity, and we should've got rid of her when she passed. It's already enough that Maeve had the audacity to call her a second mother and Innes her sister. I don't need you to be anything to the shepherd's daughter as well."

Fintan chuckled. "I don't need to be anything to her to satisfy my curiosity. Rest assured, I won't disrespect you or Néart."

"You should rest," the Lady decreed at the conclusion of their conversation. Fintan understood and stood up, offering a solemn bow as he wished her a restful night.

Once they were alone, the Lady signaled the servant to approach, and he brought the tray with the cups — one empty and one half-full.

"Boy, I understand you possess some Vision, do you not?" She asked directly, her eyes fixed on him with curiosity.

"A little, Milady," he responded, swallowing nervously and awkwardly lowering his head.

"How convenient," the Lady smiled gently. "Prepare yourself a tea in my son's cup and share his thoughts with me."

For as well as she might have raised Fintan, there could always be flaws, after all.

Life was a wild, untamed thing. The more you tried to control it, the more it showed how powerless you were before it. Maybe it was just an exaggerated feeling, or worse — an excuse —, but this is how Maeve felt when she laid down beside Keith and accepted it when he passed his arms around her shoulders to make it more comfortable for her. They had just eaten the dry, tasteless fish, and now she could help his still slightly cold body heat up.

Closing her eyes, she fought the urge to breathe in his scent, knowing that it would only intensify her feelings for him. They weren't fully conscious when they almost lost themselves to each other like this in the morning, and his mind was partially away when he kissed her in the evening. Now they could make a choice. Maeve should make a choice. Despite her better judgment, however, the memory of his lips on hers burned bright, tempting her to pull him in for another kiss.

Part of her wondered why a stag brought him to her. Her mind was haunted by the idea that maybe being with him was an inescapable fate, something not even the Lady of Néart could avoid. So how could Maeve? Yet, the thought of potential tragic consequences for her people weighed heavily on her mind.

"You should take your cloak for cover, or you'll be cold too," Keith murmured, already trying to unwrap the black garment from his chest. Maeve stopped him by sliding her arm underneath it and resting her hand on his chest.

"I'm here to help you warm up, it would make no sense to let you get cold for my sake," Maeve stated. It was only logical, wasn't it? To move her whole body into both cloaks and nestle against his skin to share her heat with him. It would only be more effective if she was undressed; skin to skin contact had its healing properties. However, just that touch was enough for Keith to tense up and start breathing unevenly. She could feel his heart beating madly inside his breast. It would be nice finding out what other reactions she could take from his body, if it was not dangerous for her own heart as well.

"T-the… the sky…" he stuttered softly. "It looks s-so beautiful from here."

Her gaze was drawn upwards towards the sky, where a multitude of stars shone brilliantly. They dominated the darkness, as the Moon had not yet risen over the horizon. Maeve was used to it by now, but she knew that the celestial dome was less powerful when seen from the castles or the larger cities.

"It does... See," she pointed to a particularly big star above them. "This one is Pollux, and that one down there," she moved her finger to another star nearest the horizon, "is Regulus, which means my stars are those small ones between them."

She drew an inverted Y in the air with a subtle smile on her lips. It was a shy constellation compared to the others around it, but Maeve was taught how to find it by her village's elder when she was a little girl.

"You're a Cancer, then," Keith concluded, and she nodded, a bit surprised that he knew. He sounded a little more relaxed as he continued: "I don't know much about astrology, but I know the stars well. My constellation is... gone with the Sun by now. But the zodiac belt is crossing the sky here," his finger drew a line above, "Leo, Cancer, Gemini, Taurus... so there are the Ursa constellations, and there are the Canis ones," he pointed to the right and to the left, respectively.

"The Sun is in your stars? It means your birthday is close..." Maeve lifted her head a little to look at him.

"It was... the day I got lost and ended up in your hut..." Keith concluded slowly, as if he hadn't given it any thought before.

"Oh! Sorry, you couldn't celebrate it, but... congratulations on your birthday, Prince Keith. I hope you'll live a long life." Maeve smiled at him, and he smiled in return. His golden eyes glistened, as if he was admiring her, and his hand touched her cheek smoothly. Her face became tingly with the rush of blood that flooded there.

"It wasn't a celebration, still I'm happier than I could be in Caisteal na Sí or the court," Keith reassured her, and she laid her head on his shoulder again to escape his dreamy, enticing eyes.

"Foolishness, there is no way being here in hardship is better than being in a comfortable castle with plenty of food and hot water," she giggled at the silly idea, and he took a deep breath.

"Those are material comforts. I feel more at ease here with you than with royalty," his arm around her shoulders squeezed her slightly. He continued, "I wish I could have been more helpful here, but it's still better than having luxuries. I feel like I can be me in peace. And meeting you... it was… quite nice."

She felt like he was going to say something else before trailing off.

"Maeve," Keith proceeded with a somber tone. "Do you feel comfortable in Caisteal na Sí?"

The question was unexpected. Moving to Caisteal na Sí was a gleam of hope during a dark part of her life, so she was nothing but grateful for the opportunity. It was a place that gave her purpose, gave her a second family, connected her with the Goddess. She undoubtedly loved the place. But was she comfortable there? Especially after Una's passing…

"I owe my life to Caisteal na Sí," Maeve was aware it wasn't an answer to his question, yet it was the answer she could give that quickly.

"But were your days happy there? Living with the Lady of Néart and Master Fintan made you feel at ease? Did you feel like you could be yourself around them?"

Mentioning both of them made Maeve wonder where he was heading with it. Perhaps Keith wanted to confirm his own impressions about them.

"They're nobility and high priests, I'm nothing but a peasant. A village girl under their favor. Of course I can't be myself with them, Keith," she looked up and his docile eyes met hers. "My place is to obey them, that's it."

"You're partially right," his thumb caressed the skin of her shoulder idly. "I understand formality and hierarchy, but having royal blood or authority doesn't give anyone the right to step over people as they wish," Maeve's eyebrows creased at his affirmation, and Keith rushed to correct himself. "I-I'm not saying they step over you. I just mean there's a limit to this kind of power, or it can become tyranny. Your place is to obey fair and justified orders that don't go against your own dignity, and I say it as a prince, even though I don't look like one…"

Keith smiled sadly at Maeve. She found it odd that she felt so comfortable talking to him despite his status as the prince heir, especially considering they had only known each other for a short time. Even under their current circumstances, he could have treated her with arrogance, but he didn't. Not this face, at least, but the hubris of the other still found a way to make her feel relaxed in his presence.

Reflecting on her time at Caisteal, Maeve thought about the justified distance between herself and the Lady, but with Fin it was different. He was charming and approachable, and every priestess her age had a crush on him. Including herself. While he treated everyone nicely, Maeve eventually realized that it was just courtesy. As a Master, Fintan couldn't reciprocate anyone's feelings. Despite this, she still saw him as a friend, although he would sometimes use her to practice uncomfortable sorts of magic and make experiments.

The fact that she never felt as comfortable talking to him as she was now with Keith made her wonder.

"They made me feel uncomfortable, yes," Maeve said faintly, and she lowered her eyes.

"And you've never questioned them like you've questioned my father?" She tensed up at the reminder, and Keith moved his hand from her shoulder to her hair, stroking it soothingly. "You did right. When things seem strange, we have to question them."

"Do you question the Lady and Fintan?" Maeve sounded more innocent than she intended to. In fact, she could question them for the exact same reason she had the King of Jade. It was just… hard to doubt the authority you had obeyed for so long.

"I do," Keith answered gently, albeit firmly. "I won't ask you to do the same, but I'll need your help to get back on my feet and find my way back to Caisteal so I can find out what is what, is that ok?"

Maeve nodded. It was a reasonable request. One she realized interested her as well.

Notes:

I've been wanting to change the update schedule from Saturday to Thursday. So if you're reading this fic, starting this week you can expect a new chapter on Thursdays instead.

By the way, in this chapter, I touched upon a few things about Astrology, so I thought I'd share some trivia:

- Did you know that Thursday is associated with Jupiter, the ruler of Pisces (which happens to be Keith's sun sign) in Traditional Astrology? It's also interesting to note that Jupiter finds exaltation in Cancer (Maeve's sun sign). Considering Jupiter's qualities of gentleness, kindness, abundance, and fertility, it aligns well with Keith and Jade, right?

- Pisces and Cancer are in a Trine position, meaning they share the same element, which is Water, and have a good compatibility in general. I wanted to create an OC who would have an understanding and peaceful relationship with Keith, and Cancer just seemed like a great match with the story as well, and what I expected from Maeve.

- Also, it was while studying Traditional Astrology that I came across the concept of Hippocrates's Four Humors.

Thanks for reading! o/