Hakuryuu found himself turning in a slow circle, bare feet on cold concrete as he looked about the barren courtyard he had first landed in. He remember nothing of it, having been unconscious at the time, and he was almost glad. The state of it was depressing.
He spared a glance back up at the open window several stories above him. Technically speaking, leaving from a window was effectively the same as crossing through a doorway; he still left the barrier of the threshold either way. The responsible thing to do would have been to walk out of Judal's door, down the stairs, and out the side door of the building not ten feet to his left.
Hakuryuu had jumped out of the window instead.
In the days following his oath to Judal, Hakuryuu had come to realize that he was not suited for rest and relaxation. It was all well and good to sit down and read a book when he knew that time tomorrow he would be riding into battle or planning a siege, but trying to occupy himself with no looming responsibilities proved trying. He was sure that once he had been able to entertain himself for days at a time without concern, but that had been decades ago.
The television, as Judal had called it, did not agree with him. Human technology in general did not seem to respond well to his kind, and Hakuryuu had learned to keep a three foot distance between himself and anything electronic. There were books, Judal had offered them more than once for him to peruse, but it was difficult to concentrate when his mind was so restless.
He couldn't train with only one arm, never mind the fact his polearm was lost to him forever. (He tried not to dwell on this as it brought up a childish kind of upset he wasn't accustomed to feeling.) The Silver Lady only required so much attention and he had been forbidden from remodeling any more of the apartment. So Hakuryuu found himself fractious, pacing around the furniture and watching the clock hands until Judal returned.
The iron wound in his side had finally begun to close itself properly, his fractured bones had fully repaired, and the stump of his arm had sealed off completely as if it had been amputated for years. In the terms Hakuryuu was accustomed to, he was more or less ready for battle. Had he been back in Sidhe he would be making prosthetics daily, just to last him through his next fight, perfecting them as he went until he found something that lasted slightly longer than a day.
Admittedly, while perhaps it was better he was taking his time with producing a new arm, it didn't make the time pass any more swiftly.
Hakuryuu's frustration had reached its peak that morning, shortly after Judal had left for school. He had gone with his customary farewell, leaving Hakuryuu still picking at his breakfast, if slightly less so than days prior. Judal had taken note of what Hakuryuu would and would not eat without any prompting, and now most of what he provided the fae with was what seemed to be the freshest produce he could find. Though Hakuryuu had asked for no such accommodation, it was touching.
There was only so long he could draw breakfast out. He had paced more, which he was concerned was going to start wearing holes in the rug, and finally given up. He had rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window where the Silver Lady was sitting and found himself staring down at the empty courtyard below.
He had contemplated the idea that popped into his head for all of a few moments before throwing the window open and lurching out of it. Any excuse to be free of the small apartment for a while; any excuse to use his magic, even just to coast himself safely down through the air.
Once upon a time, the courtyard had probably been meant for greater things. Hakuryuu wasn't sure how human builders went about creating gardens, as fae simply grew them where they stood. However they did it, they clearly weren't very good at it, if the empty plots of dry soil were any indication.
Hakuryuu turned in another slow circle, eyes drifting over his environment without truly seeing. A frown creased his brow.
He hadn't noticed before, but the threshold he had been residing behind wasn't a terribly strong one. Coming into the courtyard had been a risk, but as it was technically a part of the property he had assumed the threshold would hold. It did; by a very thin thread.
It perplexed him. Thresholds were powerful magic, the older and more lived in the abode the more powerful the threshold. A building this size and age should have a threshold far stronger than what he felt.
Hakuryuu stopped, frowning up at the window.
Perhaps he hasn't lived here long. he considered.
Another few seconds were wasted staring up at the window before Hakuryuu's focus snapped back to the courtyard. The thrill of excitement that had sent him jumping from the window returned as he raised his hand, palm up, and called for the magic in the air.
It took a moment for it to respond. The magic in the mortal realm was sluggish from disuse compared to Sidhe, but eager to respond to his call. Once it came close, the magic zipped and sparked through the air like static before a storm. It sent lights bursting behind his eyes and heat swimming through his veins, his body surging with even the hint of power.
Hakuryuu pressed his will into the magic, sending it outwards around him in the shape he desired. It coated the courtyard, arcing over the gate and curling itself against the walls of the buildings on either side. He embellished the glamour more than necessary, just for the sake of using more magic.
From inside, the world seemed the same, but to an outside observer the gate to the courtyard was closed and the inside would be entirely forgettable. Anyone could stop and look through the bars, stare for hours if they wanted and watch everything that went on, but the moment they tried to recall what they saw it would be gone.
The glamour, like all of Hakuryuu's magic, was elegant and refined. It flowed smoothly, causing barely a ripple in the outside world's awareness.
Now free to act as he pleased without being seen, Hakuryuu paced to the back of the courtyard where a bench sat up against a wall. The bench was iron, he could feel its cold sting in the air as he swerved around it, approaching the wall. The remnants of dead ivy clung to the brickwork, brittle enough that even his fingertips caused the dried vine to snap. Hakuryuu winced, as if he could feel the lifeless plant's pain.
His fingers traced down the vine, body following until he was crouched above a crack in the concrete from which the ivy had once emerged. It was not strictly one of the open beds of earth, but the sight of the dead plant was fuel enough.
Hakuryuu wormed two of his fingers into the crack until he could feel dirt under his fingernails and breathed in, then out, slow and soft. As he did, the magic pooled in his core flowed out, down his arm and through his fingertips, into the earth and deeper. Deeper, deeper, until it curled around the roots of the plant and sunk inwards.
Green shoots began to emerge and reach out, around his fingers, and Hakuryuu guided the ivy up against the wall. As soon as it touched the brick it began to climb. Where it touched the dead parts of itself it began to fill out, turn green and grow, twining with the new plant and crawling higher along the wall.
Hakuryuu stepped back and watched, his hand resting against the brick, feeding magic into the ivy until it disappeared against the roof high above.
He smiled.
"Much better."
He pulled his hand from the brickwork and stepped backwards. The concrete dug into the soles of his feet, but the discomfort didn't even occur to him as he turned to face the empty courtyard. Around him, the air shivered with magic, the dry earth suddenly warm with the embers of life.
He could feel his magic burning in his palms, swirling at his very center, begging to be used. There was so much death in this small space, so much emptiness, and he could so very easily fill it.
"Where to begin." he murmured to himself. "Where to begin…"
Judal had never been terribly intent on going or getting anywhere. If he had somewhere to be at a certain time he generally assumed he would get there, and he usually did. So it came as a surprise to find himself very intent on leaving campus and getting back on the cramped bus (which smelled like butterscotch and gin) that would carry him home.
It wasn't a single instance, he found himself with this urge to get home daily now, ever since he and Hakuryuu had come to something of an agreeable companionship. In context the idea he was, dare he say, excited to go home and see a faerie prince camped out on his couch was both ridiculous and concerning. But in reality, it wasn't nearly that complicated.
For the first time, Judal had someone to go home to. It didn't matter who Hakuryuu was or where he had come from, only that he was there.
When he walked in the door, it was to the sight of Hakuryuu laid out on the couch, or settled on the windowsill with the Silver Lady, or in the midst of pacing back and forth. The prince would look up immediately and fix him with those impossibly blue eyes and say "welcome back, Judal". It was by no means conventional, but it was the closest thing to normal Judal had ever had.
Judal still dreaded the four flights of stairs he had to walk up and the front door still refused to open unless you jiggled the handle the right way, but the apartment building felt more inviting now. When he stopped at crosswalks he bounced on his heels and he walked quickly from the bus stop to his building instead of meandering lazily down the streets like he used to.
He was so intent on getting back to his apartment and his inhuman guest that he almost walked clear past the gated courtyard without giving it a second glance. He might have, his brain filled in the space where the courtyard was with the usual wrought iron fence and unremarkable, cracked concrete, but then halted. It was but a split second of a thought, and yet for a moment it felt like his mind had just stumbled over itself, losing focus like a shoddy cable connection.
Judal stopped walking, trying to process what had just happened in his head. The half-second image of the dilapidated courtyard was unnaturally fuzzy in his mind, and instinct told him to turn his head and look back. Not too long ago, instinct had also told him to go rescue a faerie prince from bleeding to death in a planter, and look how that was working out.
Naturally, Judal spun on his heel to get a proper look at the courtyard.
What should have been there was the same open fence and uninspiring alleyway, but instead Judal found himself staring at flourishing foliage almost squirming its way free of the wrought iron. Boughs of trees were reaching through the spaces between the bars, vines had spun their ways all around the fence several times, some blossoming with brightly colored flowers. Bees were buzzing merrily about, apparently bemused but otherwise pleased by the new food source.
Judal blinked, then looked up at his building, just to be sure he hadn't gotten wildly lost somehow and found his way to an urban paradise. The same dull brickwork building loomed over him though, its windows dirty but each kept in to the apartment inhabitant's liking. The faded brass numbers hung over the front door, there was even still a crack in the door where one of the neighbors had jammed their knee during one of the door's more ornery days. It was his building, so this was his courtyard, but that was certainly not the way he'd left it that morning.
He was reminded of the day he'd come home to find his living room refurnished by his guest. In fact, even without that comparison it wasn't exactly difficult to figure out who had transformed the courtyard from its previous state of disuse.
Judal fit his hand between the low hanging leaves and the snakelike vines, wrapping his fingers around the gate and pushing gingerly inwards. It gave way surprisingly easily, and as he watched several plants untangled themselves from the iron to allow the gate to open. They swayed in the air as he stepped into the courtyard and, once he'd shut the gate again, snaked their way back into place. Some brushed by him as they went, touching his bare skin as if in welcome.
Judal turned slowly, casting his eyes over everything all at once and not really drinking any of it in in the process. The courtyard had always seemed like it was too large, despite the cramped space between buildings it occupied. It had been so dead and empty that even the narrow strip of concrete had seemed too much for it. Now there was nowhere for his eyes to settle, every surface crawling with ivy, every corner lit by brightly colored blossoms, the asphalt blanketed in a swath of leaves.
It was magical. Not because of the static tingle in the air or the sheer nature of what had brought these plants to life, but just because it was. In the purest sense, this was nature, swallowing up a corner of urban civilization and reclaiming it for itself. It was as if he had stepped into a wholly different world, and Judal couldn't stop grinning.
"Ah, Judal. You're back."
Hakuryuu's voice came from behind him and Judal spun again so he could face the prince. Hakuryuu stood out against the foliage, his dark hair and milky skin a sharp contrast to the lush backdrop. And yet, Judal couldn't help thinking he looked like he belonged there, tucked away in the shadows of overhanging treetops.
The fae offered him one of his small smiles, and his eyes seemed to glitter in the half-light.
"Welcome back."
"You," Judal laughed. "You did all this?"
"I did." Hakuryuu affirmed, stepping out of the shadows. "Though I admit I might have gotten a bit carried away once I got started."
"No! Are you kidding?! This is amazing, Hakuryuu!"
The name carried a pleasant thrum of magic through the air, causing the prince to roll his shoulders back and straighten his posture. He watched as his human host turned himself again, looking up at the once dull alley walls. Judal craned his head back, trying to find the end of the ivy and the trees, but laughed once more when he couldn't seem to.
"You like it, then?" Hakuryuu asked.
Judal fixed his brilliant crimson eyes on the fae, smiling with the kind of giddy, unbridled joy one could never fake.
"I love it!"
A burst of pride warmed the fae's chest and he sucked in an involuntary breath. Judal's attention had already returned to the newly grown flora, trailing his fingertips over the greenery in fascination. Hakuryuu watched him silently, magic still sparkling just beneath his skin, urging him to use it. He wondered how his host would react if he grew morning glories into his braid, or sent a shower of mulberries falling into his open mouth.
It had been a long while since Hakuryuu had bothered to grow something for the sake of joy. His creations may be beautiful, but more often than not they were meant to do harm, or be sacrificed in the name of defense. As he watched, a length of spider's web thin ivy spun around Judal's fingers and he laughed again, utterly delighted.
"I don't even know what most of these are." Judal admitted, wiggling his fingers gently so as not to harm the living vine. "Are they all from Sidhe?"
"Not all of them." Hakuryuu said. "There's plenty of plants that grow in both of the realms. It's difficult to bring the unique ones from one place to another, so I only bothered with a few."
He ran his fingers along the slip of vine, making it shiver and slowly retreat from Judal's outstretched hand. His host watched as it retreated towards the wall again, creeping its way up among the mess of other plants clinging to the brick.
"Show me?" Judal asked, sounding eager.
Hakuryuu smiled.
"Of course."
The fae took his host's wrist in hand and led him along the wall, pointing out the different plants as they walked. Judal listened surprisingly attentively, though his free hand always wandered to reach out for the greenery. More than once they paused so he could run curious fingertips over soft petals or through prickly leaves, his wondrous smile never leaving his lips.
Everything seemed to impress him, from the simplest sapling to the most decadent bush of blackberries. Hakuryuu plucked one for him, and Judal snatched several more when he thought he wasn't looking. The juice made his lips faintly purple, something the prince found very distracting when he was trying to explain where in Sidhe a specific flower had come from.
Logically, Judal knew that the courtyard couldn't possibly have grown in size since the last time he had set foot in it, but it felt as vast as the botanical gardens. Maybe it had something to do with the fae's odd tendency to misshape space around themselves, he'd read about that during one of his increasing nights spent googling all things Sidhe related. Or maybe it was just that Hakuryuu had crammed so much life into such a small space that now it felt both much smaller and much larger than before.
Hakuryuu fell behind Judal, watching as the human wandered amidst the lush plant life with amazement still twinkling in his eyes. The shade of red reminded him of ripe raspberries now, fresh and plump, so convincing he could almost taste their tart sweetness on his tongue. He reached up, tugging lightly at a branch that sent a cascade of petals down over his host.
Judal's laughter sounded even lovelier when it was bouncing around the rejuvenated courtyard. It sparkled in the air, Hakuryuu could feel the emotion as it touched against the magic in the atmosphere, and it make him shiver.
"I take it," he said, stepping out from under the shade of the tree. "That you approve of my changes to your yard?"
Judal had affirmed that a hundred times over already at this point, but Hakuryuu couldn't help the swell of pride when he did so again.
"It's fantastic, I don't even know where to start!" Judal laughed, brushing petals off himself. He couldn't see most of them, caught in his hair.
"You have plenty of time to start wherever you choose."
Hakuryuu gestured around, a spray of light blue sparks leaving his fingertips as he did. Flowers perked up in response, opening their blossoms wider to display their full range of colors.
"This place is no illusion… These will continue to flourish even if I stop attending to them, which I don't intend to do. Consider this… a gift to you, as thanks."
"Well, thank you, Hakuryuu."
Thank you, his mind latched onto those two words. They were an admission of debt by faerie law, easily twisted into—No. Hakuryuu turned his head so Judal was no longer in his line of sight. He could feel the magic bindings of the oath he'd sworn curling around his instincts, crushing the dark thoughts to pulp.
"Kind of makes me wish this place really was just mine."
Judal's voice cut through Hakuryuu's brief inner battle, and his words registered a moment later. The fae whipped his head back around, frowning at his host.
"What do you mean "really just yours"?"
"I mean, the courtyard's not mine." Judal shrugged. "It belongs to everyone in the building, kinda."
"But it's… beside your home."
"My apartment, yeah."
He caught sight of Hakuryuu's expression out of the corner of his eye. One brow quirked.
"It's not my building." he elaborated. "I just live in it."
"Only the apartment is yours?"
"I rent it, yeah. What, do fae not have apartments?"
"No, we do, of course we do." Hakuryuu responded dismissively. "But an apartment is…"
Judal stopped picking petals out of the folds of his clothes. Hakuryuu's expression was pulled into something resembling a scowl, as if he had something bitter resting on his tongue. He rubbed his hand over his mouth for a moment, bringing a faint blush to the corner of his lips.
"An apartment," he began. "Is a section of a larger building meant for guests, as a smaller version of a home. It is only meant to be lived in briefly, not long term."
"People live in them here." Judal shrugged. "One guy owns the building as a whole, rents out the apartments to people who want to live in them for a price."
"You pay to live there?"
"Well… yeah?"
Judal clearly didn't understand where Hakuryuu's astonishment was coming from. He blinked at him with a look of bewilderment to contrast the prince's appalled expression. For a few moments, Hakuryuu couldn't find words, then he spluttered;
"It's… miniscule."
Immediately, Judal's face pulled into a frown.
"I know it's not the biggest place but you don't need to say it like that."
"It's practically a single room with some walls thrown in place to give the illusion of additional space!" Hakuryuu argued, gesturing at the building. "Even if you knocked those down it would only be just livable for a single person."
"You didn't have a problem with it this morning."
"This morning I wasn't aware that box was the extent of your living space!"
An emotion Hakuryuu couldn't place flickered over Judal's expression. His posture was difficult to miss though. Defensive, his fists tensed at his sides, as if he were waiting for a physical blow.
"So what if it is?"
"So what? So it's not suitable! Judal, to be confined to a space that small and meant to call that a home is ridiculous! Even double that size would be remarkably beneath you!"
In his exasperated fervor, Hakuryuu missed how Judal's tensed, or the crackle of emotion in the air. If he had been paying more attention to his host he might have caught how white his knuckles were and thought to calm himself. He didn't, though, too caught up in trying to convince the mortal of the inadequacy of his living arrangements.
"Sun and stars if I'd known you were staying there out of anything other than courtesy to me I would have found you better accommodations sooner. How you've tolerated it this long is beyond—"
"I KNOW IT'S SMALL!"
The shout made Hakuryuu's shoulders jump. A lesser man, a lesser fae, may have jumped back in surprise from the sudden outburst. Hakuryuu had seen enough battle to not be startled by much, but he still gazed at his host in astonishment.
Judal's hands were shaking as he gestured up at the building, and his eyes were glistening with barely contained emotion. A subdued, dark part of Hakuryuu's thoughts murmured that anger looked good on Judal, and was quickly squashed.
"I know it's small and I know it's unimpressive and I fucking know it's about one inspection from being a fucking dump! Yeah, the stairs fucking suck, and the door slams, and I've got three rooms and someone's half-assed try at a kitchen bar but it's mine!"
One treacherous tear rolled down Judal's cheek. He swiftly rubbed it away with the back of his wrist, but once the first one fell, others began to catch on his long lashes and follow suit. The tears were hot and angry, built up over years of thinking things he never said aloud. It hurt to have to defend his home, and it hurt that in many ways Hakuryuu was right.
"It's mine!" he repeated. "And I worked fucking hard to make it mine! I carried that shitty furniture up the fucking stairs on my own, and I fixed the stupid windows by myself—"
"Judal…"
The surprise had faded, and now Hakuryuu was looking at him with a softer expression. Judal sucked in a shaky breath, feeling it rattle around his chest as he swallowed down the urge to sob. He rubbed at his eyes with his sleeve, blinking away the burning defiantly.
All this emotion had welled up all at once when Hakuryuu said the wrong word, and he knew it was stupid. It was real, but it was stupid. A bunch of shit he had stamped down until he couldn't feel it anymore and left there so he didn't have to think about it.
"I don't care how tiny it is, or how crappy," Judal said, quieter now. "It's mine."
He fell silent, avoiding the prince's gaze. Hakuryuu was left to look at his mortal host, how his cheekbones flushed when he cried and how tears clung stubbornly to his long lashes.
There was more there than was being said, Hakuryuu could tell that much. Unspoken history hung off every word Judal had said, each heavier than the last, and he would be lying if he said he wasn't curious. But those were not his questions to ask, especially not now.
Hakuryuu could think of many ways to brush aside this whole exchange. Glossing things over had been a well-honed skill in the UnSeelie court, especially among the royalty. He almost did, because it was his instinctual reaction to do so. But, of anyone, Judal had proved that he deserved better than that, so Hakuryuu caged his pride and lowered his head.
"Judal," he said as he sank down onto one knee. It felt strange to lower himself beneath another, humbling in a way he was unaccustomed to. Yet once there, the weight of Judal's gaze bearing down on him was almost comfortable. "I apologize for my behavior, and my words. I spoke without thinking, and regardless of what my intentions were, I clearly hurt you. That was never my aim."
Judal wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing at his arms like there was a chill in the air. He sniffed, looking around at the flourishing garden rather than the prince before finally settling his eyes back on him. An uncomfortable knot in his stomach had formed as soon as he knelt, but he ignored it.
"Maybe do us both a favor and think before you talk next time." he said, perhaps a touch harshly.
Hakuryuu raised his head enough to meet Judal's eyes.
"I will." he assured, and the sheer breadth of sincerity in his words was overwhelming.
Their gaze held for a few moments before Judal looked away.