A/N: so... i said updates would be regular... i like lied a little obviously. two weeks ago, i had school competitions the day following the monday and was bustling to prepare for them, and then last week just flat out SUCKED and i slept most of the time and played fire emblem. bUT here it is and hopefully now they will be regular.
A clicking echoed through the empty house as Evergreen finished the final row on her scarf. The first signs of cold were showing with every leaf fallen from its branch, and she had begged Laxus to bring her some yarn to knit herself something warm with. He'd gotten it to her as soon as possible and made her promise that he would get a matching one to keep him warm around the castle, which frequently got cold when Natsu was out and not tending to the fires.
She wondered if Elfman would come to see her that day. His visits were frequent, yes, but haphazard. He always came at least three times a week, however, and usually around the current time. It seemed stupid and childish for so eagerly anticipating a visit, but he had kept her such good company in the past six months that she found herself almost miserable when he wasn't around her.
He was sweet. Kind. Not many people had looked at her as warmly as he always did. And when he was around her, she didn't think about Ivan, didn't think about the priest's blood on her hands, and she laughed freely and felt at peace. She felt like a ridiculous child, in short, but she liked it, and she had long since stopped fighting it.
Evergreen trusted Elfman. And she had not trusted anyone new in a long time.
She dragged her needle through the last hole and tied it off, huffing with satisfaction at her clean rows and neat work. She'd finished Laxus' a few days before and now felt much too impatient to give it to him when he next visited. He promised that he would come within the next couple of days and that he would bring her favorite treat from a local bakery with him. He was spoiling her more, and it was obvious that with every passing day where Ivan did not wake and he found no way to clear her name that he felt more and more guilty.
Though it was quiet and peaceful in the forest, though she had Elfman and all the flowers she wanted, Evergreen had to admit that she missed home. She missed Bickslow hanging from the oddest of places to frighten unsuspecting maids, she missed Freed and his gentle hands that brushed her hair every night, and she missed Laxus, seeing him in his princely clothes, as strong and sure as lightning. She missed her griffon and even the few maids and clerics who liked to talk to her. The library, the kitchen, the gardens- a wave of nostalgia and longing hit her.
Evergreen wanted out. She wanted to be back in Magnolia, and she wanted to be there fast, and she wanted to punch Ivan right in his pointy little jaw.
"Laaaaxus," she moaned as she threw her head against the table. "Hurry uuuup."
A branch outside broke and she started a bit, clutching the knitting needle in her hand like a weapon. That sound was much too heavy to be a branch broken by a tiny animal like a rabbit and much too sure to have been broken by a lumbering animal like a bear or moose. There was a person outside, and after a minute, she relaxed. It was undoubtedly Elfman, and she sighed and stood from her chair and swiped at her skirt to get rid of little pieces of yarn that had collected there.
"What're you doing sneaking around out there, El-!"
The door flew open violently, little bits of the wood scattering through the air as a tall man kicked it down. Ever squeaked and jumped, alarmed at the sudden entrance, and the two stared at each other for just a moment. He stared at her in obvious surprise while she looked dismayed at the door. She hadn't even locked it. The kicking was completely unnecessary. Couldn't he have knocked? What did he even-
Her eyes fell upon the crest on his chest plate, the symbol of the national army, and her mind went numb. Her body tensed in a way that it hadn't in months, like a cat about to pounce, and the old but familiar sensation of her heart speeding up rushed through her. He was here for her. She was going to fight her way out.
The knight didn't have a second to react before she threw the needle at him. The blunt object whacked him square on the forehead and he yelped, instinctively reacting to the sharp pain that he assumed would come, and Ever lunged for him with her fist pulled back.
He reacted quickly this time and leaned to the side as she threw a punch. His hands gripped her arm and he began to pull her forward and up, and as she was lifted off the ground, she swung her legs forward and planted them firmly on his chest and wrested her wrist free from his grip. He yelled as she kicked him solidly in the jaw and began to choke. She fell towards the ground, but came back to her feet in a second as he drew his sword.
Sharp, pointy sticks. Great.
He lunged forward with the blade and a manic look befitting of a wolf in his eyes. She moved around the blade with her teeth grit. Her body was already screaming- she hadn't fought since she'd run into the band of brigands in the woods a long time ago. She was out of shape, made soft by the comforts of forest life, and her muscles complained about being thrown back into the thick of action so suddenly, but she didn't have time for a spare breath. Her body was still strong.
She planted her fist square against his face and felt his nose crumble like paper underneath her knuckles. A hot spurt of blood gushed from his nose and splattered onto her white shirt. He yelled but kept his hand on his sword and lashed out, hoping to keep her away while he recovered. Ever jumped back, but she was so slow after so long- the blade nicked her arm enough to draw immediate blood. It trickled down her elbow and only served to fuel her adrenaline. When was the last time she'd seen her blood? It used to be such a regular event, and now it was so frightening that it sent her heart into a tizzy.
"Go away!" she yelled. She'd found herself in the kitchen and looked towards the stove- a frying pan with a heavy bottom that she'd used to make breakfast sat there and she grabbed it. It was a sloppy weapon, but thick enough to be a functional shield and hefty enough to crack a skull.
"His tracks led here," the knight was mumbling and still clutching his crushed nose. "To this maniac?"
Ever faltered, just a bit. The pan fell forward in her hands slightly. "He" only meant one person. Elfman hadn't meant to, surely he hadn't, but he'd led the royal army right to her front door. Did they know it was her? The country's current largest fugitive? Or had she provoked this knight unnecessarily in her wild and impulsive instinct? It didn't matter- she'd proved she was a threat and now he would stop at nothing to see her impaled on the end of his sword.
The man took a stance and swung out with his sword in a wide, professional arc. Ever leaned back and took a swing of her own with the pan, successfully clashing against his steel. He grit his teeth and pressed forward, staring at her with the intensity of the sun. With a shout she stepped back from the clash and lunged forward, aiming the pan at his side. It successfully collided with his leather armor and he yelled, blindly taking another swing at her. The blade dug into the juncture of her shoulder and neck and she cried out- that one hurt.
He clutched at his side while she stumbled back and tried to stop the flow of blood that ran down her chest. He sniffed and spit out a tiny wad of spit and blood before slurring through the blood that flowed in his mouth, "I recognize you now."
Her body stiffened and she couldn't stop her legs from shaking viciously.
"You were the prince's right hand knight. Or one of them, more precisely." He rubbed at his messy face and smirked, staring at her as though she was a particularly nice piece of game entangled in a hunting trap. "Meaning you're the murderer who's been evading the kingdom for so damn long."
"Shut up!"
She flung the pan at him, her chest heaving as she struggled to breath through a fit of panic, but he sidestepped it easily and looked like he was about to have a good laugh. Had her throw been straight at all in the first place? She couldn't tell. Her mind was foggy and tears were starting to burn behind her eyes as she gasped deeply for air. The side of the table bumped into her hip as she wobbled back into it. Her hand reached out for balance. She didn't want to be captured. She didn't want to be executed. She wanted to go back with Laxus. She didn't want Elfman to ever think that she'd killed an innocent man.
Her hands gripped around the hard edges of fabric shears and she squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn't go with them.
Not alive.
She flipped the blade around in her hands, bringing the sharp point to face her, a few tears escaped from her eyes, and the window behind her broke. The scissors slipped out of her hands right when a blunt, hard object smashed against the back of her head, and she followed them to the floor.
"Okay, so, do you think I should tell her?" Elfman asked. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up to the treetops. "I mean, it's been a few months. It's not like it would be sudden. If she says she likes me back, great! If she laughs in my face, my heart'll be broken, sure, but I could get over it." He coughed and looked at his companion. "Right?"
The squirrel on his shoulder glared at him without a hint of encouragement. It chittered something to its new friend and went back to cracking open its nut on the metal of his shoulder guard.
"Right, right." Elfman held up his hand and waved it at the squirrel. "You're right. Too soon. I'll wait a bit longer."
It squeaked and sounded satisfied by his response.
"I mean, she's got to have enough on her plate," he speculated. "She's always working on a project, or she's out in the forest gathering, or-" He paused to clear his throat and rub at it. "She's got to worry about that guy who used her."
Elfman did not have the details on the situation- who the man was, what he did, how long it went on, but he did have a raging and burning feeling in stomach and a roaring in his head whenever he so much as gave it a passing thought. Was her mysterious friend working to fix the problem? Would she go back to her home if a solution was found? It would be odd to not be able to see her whenever he felt the urge, but if home was where she was happy, he hoped she got to go back to that place.
"I should've been there by now," he grumbled to the squirrel. "Damn you for being cute and cuddly and distracting me."
His friend chittered happily and finally broke open its nut and began to gorge on it. The critter had fallen on his head as he entered the forest, probably after retrieving its lunch from the tree, and he'd spent a good five minutes rubbing it under its chin and listening to it happily squeak at the new friendship.
Elfman rubbed his jaw and glared at the ground and mumbled, "What really worries me is something she said when I was asleep at her house last week. I was barely awake, but I think she said something like our goodbye was fated." The squirrel huffed and he nodded in agreement. "I know. Totally over dramatic, right?"
The man and his companion jumped the next moment at the very obvious sound of glass shattering. The squirrel squealed and scampered down his arm and jumped to the ground. It looked at him and chattered- Elfman clenched his fists and nodded.
"Right. I'll go see what that was. It's a man's job to investigate!"
Besides, the only glass within the next while to break belonged to Ever.
He raced through the forest, slapping away branches that reached to stop him, and even managed to avoid his usual stumbling over rocks hidden so well in the earth. Ever might be in trouble. The man she'd fled from may have found her at last, and maybe he had a knife to her throat that very moment. The glass had shattered thirty seconds ago at least, and Ever was a civilian. She didn't know how to fight. Maybe she was already dead.
He had to stop briefly to try and keep from being terribly sick at the thought of her blood, but he gave himself only so long before he took off again.
His chest felt like it wanted to burst open. His lungs screamed for relief, but his heart pounded and he thought so little of himself and only of her that he ignored his limits. Her house was just over the top of the hill, and he was so so close, and-
His foot caught on a root and he yelped- very unmanly- and rolled down the hill. A branch ripped open his cheek and a boulder smashed into his shoulder blade, but all he cared about was that he had probably gotten to the bottom of the hill faster that way.
When he finally got his bearings and to his knees, groaning and shaking dead leaves from his hair, he was greeted with the sound of footsteps and grunting men that he recognized clearly from the estate. One of them held a lance tightly and marched with the dignity of the common soldier. The other dragged a young woman by her brown curls. Her skirt was black and a bit torn and her collared white shirt had blood stains. Her wrists were bound together and tied shoddily with a strip of red silk.
They were dragging Ever.
"Hey!" he shouted.
The soldiers jumped and turned to look at him with blank looks that were almost stupid painted on their faces. The one dragging her began to stammer out a title and a greeting, but quickly shut up when Elfman picked him up by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him off the ground.
His head pounded so fiercely that he wondered if he would even be able to speak, but he did manage, "What are you doing?"
The knight had let go of her hair when he was yanked from the ground and his companion was holding her by the shoulders as though she would wake suddenly and dash. Her arm was bleeding, but not so heavily as her lower neck, and trickles of blood slid down the side of her head.
The knight in his hands tilted his head and cleared his throat. "Sir. What are you doing?"
"I'm here to see a friend," he hissed. His grip around the man's shoulders tightened.
The soldier raised an eyebrow and glowered down at his captured victim. "I see. So we tracked right- this is where you were coming to all this while."
"Who sent you?" Elfman demanded. "Why were you following my trail? This is out of line."
The man refused to speak until he was set back on the ground, though his shoulders were still prey to the larger man. "Your sister sent us, sir. Her Grace is unspeakably worried, especially after you vanished for that night last week." He looked again at Ever and spread his hands open. "But I understand now. Given the chance to sleep with a beautiful girl like her, I would also-"
He choked as Elfman threw him against the fence and held his arm to his throat. The other knight shouted, but refused to leave his position holding Ever.
"You-" The man struggled to breathe. "Don't know… who she… is."
Elfman narrowed his eyes.
The knight began to laugh, though it came out more like a gurgle. "I'll tell you." He cleared his throat when Elfman lightened his choke on him and continued with his lips curled and his brow furrowed in disgust. "She's a whore, sir. She was-"
Again, he squeaked as he found himself pinned harder than ever.
Elfman felt like he would start foaming at the lips any second. A haze of red covered his vision and he contemplated snapping the knight's neck right there. "Accuse her of that again, I dare you."
"But he's right."
Elfman swiveled his around to glare at the other man. The one in his grip struggled for breath and looked as though his eyes were about to pop out.
The knight with Ever in his arms cleared his throat and did his best to look brave. "He's right, sir. This woman is a street urchin and criminal." He glared down at her with enough disgust that Elfman considered snapping his neck as well. "This young lady is Fiore's most wanted."
Bickslow's hands felt cold, painfully cold, and he could not stop them from shaking when the knights came in, dragging Evergreen by her hair. He wanted to beat them all away, take her, and run with her. It would be her only chance.
Freed and Laxus held his arms as he strained to reach her, every vile insult spewing from his mouth.
Bickslow had the right intentions, really. Swooping in to save Evergreen was an appealing notion, but one they couldn't indulge. If they tried to be heroes, they'd just end up with handcuffs slapped around their wrists and be in nearly as bad a position as her. But Freed wanted to lunge in. One of the knights had a broken nose and smug look on his face and it was obvious that he was the culprit.
He settled for wrapping his hand around the hilt of his sword and thinking of a variety of ways he could prove her innocence.
Laxus was ready to throw something- or someone. His idiot father had woken up yesterday and lost no time in testifying against Evergreen ("It was horrifying! She completely brutalized that poor man and would've undoubtedly done away with me if she had the guts."), and now she was being dragged into the castle with blood on her clothes and a troop of knights guarding her like a criminal.
She wasn't a criminal. She was just a kid, a dirty, mangy kid that was unfortunate enough to be born into the slums and looked at him with far more, so much more love than he deserved.
He had to save her.
The agony in her head was what woke Evergreen up, rather than the guard dumping a bucket of ice water over her. Pain was always the surefire way to wake someone, even from the deepest sleep. Not water. Not shouting. A good kick to the gut was the way to get someone up and going.
She was on her side, her cheek pressed to the floor. She sputtered and coughed as the water filled her nose. It burned fiercely, but couldn't compare to the stinging of the knot on the back of her head. The guard with the bucket exhaled through his nose, a satisfied sound, and backed away from her. He was someone she had seen once or twice, but she couldn't recall his name. She never remembered names. She was bad with others. She regretted that.
The water soaked into her shirt and chilled her to the the bone. The cloth clung uncomfortably against her chest and her hair stuck to every crevice of her face. She coughed again and shook her head like a dog, dislodging the strands and expelling enough water to make the guard standing above her uncomfortable. He grumbled and then said something to her, but the fuzz in her head turned his words into gibberish.
The ground was marble, beautiful, but smooth and cold and completely unlike the warm wood and grass that she'd known for the last months. She huffed and struggled to her knees, pulling experimentally at the handcuffs that kept her hands behind her back. A guard approached her, jittery, and pointed the edge of his sword at her- a superior held him back and shook her head, allowing the prisoner to kneel and work through her haze.
There were ten pairs of feet at the very least, from what she could make out, and she was utterly surrounded. The cuffs on her wrists were of the highest quality, steel and biting. A bandage had been placed neatly around her arm and wrapped around her collarbone, near where she'd taken the long slice from the sword, and it showed no sign of further bleeding. It was obvious she was in the castle, in an area near the court's meeting room; she recognized the sparkling purple rug and the massive chandelier hanging above her head.
She was home, but in the most unfortunate circumstances.
Footsteps thunked through the hall, heavy, rhythmic- Elfman was pacing, almost stomping, and Lisanna had fled the hallway a few minutes before to leave him and Mirajane alone. The hallway remained utterly empty and silent, as everyone on staff had been tempted away to see the spectacle, the murderer caught at last, bleeding and chained, and Mira stood right in the middle of the corridor and twisted her fingers together.
"Why?" Elfman muttered to himself for the umpteenth time, and then finally stopped pacing. The silence buzzed in his ears and he lifted his voice to his sister. "Why?"
She swallowed and lifted her hands, clapping them to her chest as though in prayer. She'd been called to the castle and brought Lisanna and Elfman with her- even when her duties as a High Knight called, she never left them far behind. She'd changed into her official wear, a flowing white dress with sparkling silver armor covering her and long boots. She looked ethereal and god-like, but he could not see her that way in the moment.
"I had no idea this was what was happening when I asked them to follow you," she began in a quavering voice. "That you were off cavorting with a murderer."
"She's not a murderer!" he shouted, and his voice lashed angrily against the walls.
Mirajane lowered her hands and narrowed her eyes. "Yes, she is. And you're lucky she didn't kill you. If she knew who you were and your relation to me, then-"
"She did!" he argued. "She knew who I was and never did anything to me."
His sister's shoulders stiffened, but she regained her composure after another second. "Really?"
"Yes."
"It doesn't change the fact that she murdered the kingdom's High Priest, and put the Crown Prince into a coma for nearly six months." She pressed her lips and kept quiet for a long minute. Elfman did not move an inch and opted to stare at the ground. His boots were scuffed from his tumble down the hill. "How long have you been… with her?"
He flinched. "What are you implying?"
Mirajane coughed uncomfortably and looked very guilty, but steeled her nerves. "What I mean is, how long have you been sleeping with her?"
He grit his teeth. "I did nothing of the sort."
She put her hands on her hips and looked away. "Then I believe you. It isn't like you, anyway. But how long were you visiting her?"
He remained silent for a long while, then crossed his arms over his chest and muttered, "Around five months."
"Why?"
"I like her." He looked to the ground and avoided the sight of any inch of his sister. "I like her a lot."
"What were you doing?"
"Talking. We cooked. She taught me how to knit, but I'm not good at it." He rubbed his arms. "Sometimes we took walks."
"Elfman. Look at me." He did not, and she took wide strides until she reached him. Her fingers clamped around his jaw and she jerked his head towards her- Mirajane had never forced him to do anything before. "Look at me."
Her eyes were strong, steel, but her lips were quivering when he finally did look at her. Mirajane wore her heart on her sleeve and it was not hard to tell that she was feeling anguished, maybe even guilty, but it was also obvious what she thought: She was in the right. She was a High Knight of Fiore and she was doing the right thing for her country.
"Ever isn't a murderer."
"Evergreen was formerly one of the right-hand knights of the second prince of the country, Laxus. Did you know that?" she inquired.
"No." His stomach churned.
"Six months ago, almost to the day, she was found in the room of the late High Priest, who was meeting with the Crown Prince Ivan. The priest had been butchered with an ax, undoubtedly her own, and the prince was beaten and unconscious. She had blood on her hands, Elfman." Mirajane's voice had taken on a professional tone, sharp and quick. "Elfman."
Every bit of evidence pointed to her, but he squeezed his eyes shut as though to block it out. Ever had a lovely smile. She had cold, but gentle, fingers. She carried him out of the forest, out of a certain death, and spent three sleepless days ensuring he healed while he slept. She made him food. Patched him up after he got hurt when using a sickle in her garden for the first time, and she was an angel.
His angel.
Not a murderer.
"She didn't do it," he insisted once more. With more force than necessary, he slapped Mira's hands away from his face and glared down at her. "I know."
Her nostrils flared and her eyes began to gleam with tears, but she kept her voice steady and stepped away from him. "I'm required to be in the meeting room soon," she told him.
"Go then," he growled.
"Listen to me, brother," she warned. "She is not what you think. She brutalized the knight I sent to look for you. The clerics have been reconstructing his nose for an hour now. She isn't a sweet little girl wanting for you to dote on her- she's dangerous, and her records prove it."
Mirajane's heels clicked ominously as she trailed out of the hall, and Elfman looked after her, his own boots glued to the ground. He had never before had ill feelings towards his oldest sister, but now anger was bursting in his veins and he didn't have any idea what to do with himself. Dangerous? Records? It didn't make any sense. His head felt ready to explode. He just knew that Ever was Ever, and that Ever wasn't a murderer.