A/N: Update times seem to be better already! This is my quickest update in a while. I'm proud. Somewhat. But my update time needs to be better; I'm aiming for every two weeks - maybe three, because of how long the chapters are (and because of how busy I am). Author here is an A-level student. Unfortunately, her studying consumes... well fifty percent of her life.
Honestly, I feel like it will be a long time before I get back to weekly updates... Right now, I'm so busy I can barely squeeze in writing time. So bi-weekly and tri-weekly updates are gonna be the norm for now loves. Hopefully it suffices.
Oh, before I forget, thank you SO much everyone who supports this mess of words and ideas. The count's at 63 Followers, 62 Faves and 87 reviews! Plus the total views of over 26k! We're Kids?! is honestly my most followed and successful work ever. Thank you for contributing to that :)
Darkjuliet444 - Haha yeah, I'm doing fine. Stressed as hell but still ticking over. I hope you're doing well too. Now to go over our usual points!
Point 1: Merlin is hiding A LOT of things. She is the biggest secret-keeper (even bigger than Captain Mel) out of the group. And, of course, Detective Arthur is going to sniff them out ;).
Point 2: The guy Howzer had an encounter with... he's kinda irrelevant. But his and Jericho's activities do link greatly to the climax of this festival. Let's just say that those two play a crucial role in the Sins discovering the festival's true purpose.
Point 3: I'm glad you're liking the little fairy tales! Honestly Beauty and the Beast is like the flagship fairy tale for Meliodas. It'd be criminal NOT to make that his tale. Ban's was Aladdin because of the shared theme of poverty and a 'magical being' changing the protagonist's life. Elaine is a perfect foil for Rapunzel - especially since she was kept from an outside world which she managed to break into anyway. King... he is an exception. I was thinking of basing his story of another source but then I thought "Hey! Why would King know human fairy tales, let alone other tales from other races!". Plus his tale does make good fairy tale material: tragic hero, moral to learn - and, of course, magic. The other Sins also have different fairy tales (which I'm not going to spoil). Honestly, I could go on and on about this; it's one of my favourite elements of this fic.
Point 4: The climax of this little segment is nearly here! Oh, Chandler, Derieri AND Estarossa have a large role to play in it :D
Till next time,
D.L.D
Still crackling with warmth, the story circle fire was burning brightly as more and more tales poured into the midnight air, slipped from eager mouths and vigorous lips as each storyteller attempted to outdo the last. In between the stories Solaseed would break into song, her voice a soft hum against the spit of the flames, like honey mixing with the warmth spice of a nutmeg or cinnamon. All eyes would watch as the young girl pranced about, delicate fingers plucking at thin strings as she appeared to float with each step, hopping around the circle.
All the while the storyteller watched, wild hair framing a pensive face like a majestic lion's mane. Aside from announcing the newest teller, the storyteller himself spoke little. Instead he resided almost entirely within the gloom of the ever-changing fire, keen eyes alight with a mysterious blaze as his round fingers tapped against the wood of his cane.
Currently, the entire circle was captivated with the tale of a young farmer, his hair still dusted with stray strands of straw despite the late hour. Animatedly, he mimicked the large, arcing swish of a bear's attack, fingers poised like sharpened claws as his mouth hung agape, bellowing the low tones of a violent, gruesome roar.
Such tales had never been of much interest to Harlequin - the third King of the fairies. Apparently the farmer had seen a beast worthy of being called the descendant of the great Ursa Major, hulking in size and bursting in power. Razor sharp claws, jaws as wide as hearty oak tree, fur as dark and tousled as the windswept carcass of a saber-toothed wolf, this bear was no normal bear.
No doubt that part was true: the bear's abnormality. But, beneath the extravagant tale and animated motions, King could read the lies bleeding from the poor man's heart. That bear was nothing more than a concerned mother bear, a grieving mother bear, her deadly paws raised to mow down the criminal who had slain her precious cub.
Of course, the other humans had no way of knowing as much. To them the bear was a hostile enemy, seven foot tall and boasting breath that stank like the rotting guts of a long-caught fish. They couldn't be blamed as they gaped at the farmer in awe, sat on the edges of their makeshift seats, nails digging into dry earth or other material as they urged to know more and more and more until there wasn't more to be learned. Humans always were such insatiable beings; humans always were curious.
That was one big difference between King and humans: they had always cherished their burning curiosity.
"You know, you told a wonderful story," Yelping, King almost fell from his pillow from the soft voice that spoke from beside him. Solaseed, auburn hair lit almost hellish orange in the vermilion light of the fire. Pensively, she pursed her lips, hand resting on the silent strings of her lute as she gazed up at the fairy king. "I especially liked the lesson to be learned from it, the dangers that come with being responsible for the world."
"Really?" King gulped, regathering his senses as he relaxed on his pillow. Really he shouldn't be so easy to scare - not with the title of a Sin tacked onto his back. But what could he say? Being a coward was ingrained into his DNA.
"Yep," Solaseed nodded, humming as she turned to the many people glued to the opposite end of the circle. A vivid roar burst from the fire, timed to match the farmer's own imitation. "So many people were mystified by your tale. You have a wonderful gift."
Silenced washed over the fairy king. Extreme, grim silence. His story was no more of a gift than any of the stories shared tonight. Every tale, every sequence of events slipped from each teller's mind, was simply a version of the truth, a version of real events, that offered their own information for others to take as they wanted. Sharing the true reason behind the third fairy King's imprisonment was no more gracious than sharing the weather for the day.
Plus, with how much that followed him - the blood that could never be washed from his hands - King deserved little in terms of gratitude and admiration. If anything he deserved to be thrown away in a cell, rotting away as people threw rotten fruit and spat right on him, calling him out for the lousy leader he truly was. Even now - in the future - he was avoiding reality; only once had he gone back to check, back to SEE, the people he had tried to adamantly to protect.
All that remained was charcoal ash. All he came back to find was a disgusting red demon carcass and the trashed remains of his kingdom.
Some king he was, leaving his lands when they had needed him most. Some great leader he had been.
There was no gift hidden behind the natural talents of King. All that lay beneath his DNA, the behaviours learned and gained over the years, were the remnants of a foolish, cowardly fairy. One who hid his own feelings, his own actions, his own past, just to keep it all at bay. Just until one day, one distant day, he would avenge his own people, destroy the scum who had burned down his kingdom to ashes and return to regrow it again.
At least... he thought so, right? Or hadn't he already found the culprit, mowed him down in the Necropolis? Wasn't that person Ban?
He didn't know.
"You hear that King?" Diane gushed, snapping King out of his thoughts as her hand clamped around his arm. Vigourously, she shook him within her grasp. "You have a gift!"
"Mhm," The fairy hummed, currently focused on making the world appear stationary. Faint nausea crept into his system, blood rushing to his head as faint green tinged his cheeks. Sour liquid filled his mouth. "A gift..."
Solaseed was gone now, dancing to another onlooker with a walk that felt like a floating skip. Even with the world swimming before his eyes, the nausea clouding his brain, King could sense the wrongness leaking from her aura. Too much of something - something unfamiliar and yet also familiar - floated around her body like a sickly sweet flavour. Overwhelming, overpowering, it hovered about her like a halo as she nudged a child, golden eyes sparkling with amusement.
Swallowing the urge to throw up, King frowned. Now that he had caught onto it, tasted the sickly sweet flavour, it almost disappeared, replaced with a repelling aura, a repelling flavour, more rich and sour almost like... pure cocoa beans.
"Hey Diane," King turned to his companion, frown still in place as he gently removed her hand from his arm. Tightly, he squeezed Chastiefol to his chest.
"Yes?" Diane responded instantly, curiosity sparking in her eyes as she gazed at the Grizzly Sin. Too soon it became concern, noticing the pinched downturn to his lips and the furrow to his brow.
"Do you think," King paused, trying to collect his words, condense all that he sensed into a single sentence. In the end, he settled for sweet simplicity. "Something's off about that girl."
For a moment Diane simply stared at him, amethyst eyes wide and unblinking as she followed his nod. Then, she focused in on the target, currently smiling as she brandished her lute, plucking a few stray notes that couldn't dare to compete with the lively spit and crackle of the fire's flames. Now she was speaking to a young man, adorned in the uniform of a doctor or medic, auburn hair a sensible bowl cut, fringe lengthy enough to obscure his eyes.
Who exactly was that man? Why did he obscure his face? King couldn't help but frown more deeply, more cogs turning in his brain, as he watched the two interact. They appeared familiar, Solaseed laughing as she did a little twirl and jabbed the man on the arm. In return the man chuckled, grinning as he patted her tiny head and shook his own head at her vivacious antics. All of it, every last action, was masked behind the facade of the circle, the fire. But why was that?
"She is kinda weird," Diane finally spoke, a frown settling on her own lips. Brows furrowed with thought, she turned back to King, tilting her head so that her right pigtail would tickle her neck. "But why makes you think that?"
"Well, she does this weird thing when she talks or sings," King responded, his scrutiny not at all hidden as he returned his gaze to the fire, the old man standing within its shadows, eyes glowing like a waiting mountain lion. "Kind of like she's blowing over the audience."
"Blowing?" Diane echoed, scrunching her nose in disagreement. Shaking her head vigorously, she protested. "That sounds silly!"
No it doesn't. At all. If that were the truth, well, King wouldn't be surprised. But from how the old man looks at him, dark and accusatory and waiting, King knows better than to key him into his suspicions. That was the number one rule of gaining the advantage over a sneaky enemy: never letting them know when you knew that they were present. If you ever did that, clued them in, then you have lost it all. You might as well sign your victory away.
"Y-yeah, it does seem kind of silly now that I think about it," King agreed, laughing at his own ideas along with Diane. Ideas that still lingered in the back of his mind, reignited by the roar of the flames and the ominous look of the old man and his wooden staff.
Camelot had been gone and faded in the dust long, long ago. If one wanted to be precise, wanted to count down the specific minutes, seconds and hours spent, then they could simply, easily, describe the distance as two hours, thirty six minutes and twenty seconds away from Camelot. Or, more accurately, around fifteen miles away, just about entering the more wild terrain of the surrounding land, the city walls and their protection a long since distant thing.
For that entire two hour leg of the journey, Merlin had said nothing. All conversation, awkward spouts about weather and the future and politics, had been shared between Arthur and Escanor. And Escanor, bless his little soul, was doing the best he could to deter the wild-spirited Arthur from grasping the reigns of the conversation and pinning them straight on Merlin. On all things that are good and holy, poor Escanor did try his best.
However, he never was a good conversationalist.
"I want to know the truth," Arthur abruptly announced, head held high as he stared at his mentor. Rigid as steel she was, graceful and poised as a black cat she was, as she gazed out of the carriage's window, watching as the well-tilled fields slowly dwindled into more twisting, feral bushes, brambles and trees. Beside her Escanor had stiffened, her complete opposite of poise and grace, face flushed apple red as his jaw hung open.
"What do you mean, Arthur?" Merlin calmly responded, not peeling her eyes from the window to even dignify her student with a warning, cursory glance. Instead her little fingers knotted themselves together, lacing to lay delicately above her lap. "What do you want to know?"
"The truth," Arthur repeated, not breaking in his stance. Determined, iron-willed, he frowned at his mentor, brow pinching with earnest. "About the spell, about you, about what's happening to Escanor! I don't want anymore secrets between us, Merlin."
Silence had never rang so thickly through the carriage. Even when they had first set out - fresh from a heated debate with Camelot's leading politicians and advisors - the silence hadn't hung as thickly as this, as viscous as this, threatening to suffocate all within the carriage with its clammy, choking blanket of tension. Oh no. Such a silence had never existed before between these three passengers - all a sharp corner in this wonky triangle of a team.
"Arthur," Merlin admonished, almost like her former self, as she closed her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Once released she turned back to him, resolute and firm as she stared him in the eye. "We have already spoken about this."
"And we have also spoken about being a team," Arthur riposted, much less accusatory but not less sharp in his wording. Precise, bold, straightforward: he had learned well in the art of deciphering and disarming his cryptic, avoidant mentor. "So tell me now Merlin or I fear we won't be able to save Britannia together after all. I need to know everything to able to help you all."
Another silence - less choking but definitely as strong. Wavering on her face - much clearer than it would have been in normal circumstances - was the crumbling resolve of Merlin, the greatest magician in Britannia and the one and only Boar Sin of Gluttony. Not many could claim, let alone know, that they had made her rethink. Nobody living (that was for sure) could even think of gaining the upper hand against such a mysterious and cunning woman.
Nevertheless, Arthur had done it. An exception he was - an exception in a lot of departments in seemed. Gaining her trust, sneaking his way into her heart: oh yes, Arthur was a human who had received so many gracious liberties that others could only dream of. Even Vivian (her penultimate final apprentice that had made Merlin swear off ever teaching humans her knowledge) had not gleaned this much kindness from the old boar.
Something was changing within her. Perhaps a softening a heart, perhaps the centuries upon centuries of age catching up with her. Whatever it was Merlin had a soft spot for her pupil. Arthur, her key to everything she had ever wanted, was something she simply couldn't afford to lose. At all.
"Fine," Merlin huffed, very much an unexpected action from the sneaky mage. Two arms folded over her chest. "I'll tell you."
More seconds ticked on by, another one hundred and thirty, before a voice filled the carriage, impatient and equally uncertain.
"So... now or- "
"Now," Merlin sighed, rolling her eyes as she shot a slight glare to the sheepish king of Camelot. Boys never did well with patience games - a thing that had refused to change over the lengthy course of her lifetime. Of course that was the one thing Arthur could never be the exception for. "I'm just trying to sort it into words."
"If it helps, I can give insight into myself," Escanor piped up from his corner, sounding uncertain himself as he shakily readjusted his new glasses. Recently, Merlin had generously upgraded them - a temporary fix, she had told him. Hopefully a pair that could slow the crippling effects of his curse. "And well, why Merlin is acting how she is toward me."
"You can?" Arthur inquired, blinking as he peered at the timid Lion Sin. Even though he was usually quite a meek being during the nighttime hours (or whenever he wore his glasses), under the awaiting stare of the young King Escanor seemed even more squeamish. Arthur couldn't help but reign himself in at Escanor's sign of nerves, restraining his burning curiosity, "I mean, if you can please do! I'm desperate to help."
"Of course," Escanor swallowed, nodding as he adjusted his glasses. A glance was sent to his companion, the only other Sin in the carriage. "You are Merlin's best pupil and- "
Violent, seizing, a fit of coughing rattled the poor boy's chest, hunching him over in two. Once. Twice. Thrice. Clammy, a hand flew over his quivering lips, catching the flying evidence of his deteriorating health as Escanor's face reddened, round ears tipped with crimson. All anyone could do was watch with alarm as the Lion Sin calmly sat up straight, still pale and shaken, wiping his mouth with the cuff of his once pristine shirt sleeve.
"Ah, there it is again," Escanor spoke, voice hoarse and strained as he wiped his palm upon a napkin. Thankfully supplied by Merlin.
"It's getting worse," Was all she said, lips pressed into a thin line as she watched Escanor wipe at his mouth. Dark red stained the once white material of the napkin, spreading in a slow circle. "Much worse. We need to find a cure before- "
"I know," Escanor interrupted, surprisingly. Firm, resolute, determination burned in his eyes as he smiled wanly at his companion. "But that is the last thing on my mind."
Smoldering, a weighted moment passed between the pair. Across from them, Arthur could only look from his position as the third wheel - the awkward extra fixture tasked with being present for no real reason. Well-used to each other, able to communicate with just the charged air between them, Merlin and Escanor were leagues ahead in their teamwork and chemistry. Endless secrets, countless conversations, had been shared between them.
And, in this moment, Arthur realised that he was the intruder. Like an outsider peering in from the outside, an audience watching a play, he was simply a spectator.
"So," The young king broke the silence once more, raising a brow as he sheepishly smiled. "Are you two ever going to let me into your secret secrets club?"
"Shush Arthur, the adults are talking," Merlin waved him off, shaking her head as she turned away from Escanor. Raising a brow, she tsked, "Didn't I teach you better manners?"
Face burning with a blush, the young king nodded, feeling very much like a child despite being scolded by a literal little girl. But, then again, that little girl was a mystical mage, much older than him in age and experience - two things that were worth much more than petty age.
"Kids, am I right?" Merlin sighed, almost teasing as she turned to Escanor. "So disrespectful these days."
"Oh yes, definitely," Escanor agreed, nodding along with her. Nevertheless, the sympathy within him didn't go unheard, "Still, he was only trying to help."
"Well he may only help when I ask him to," Merlin retorted, completely ignoring Arthur's look of complete protest. Turning back to the window, she smiled a little as the king pouted in his corner, looking every bit like a petulant child, "Although, it is fair that he does know some things."
Instantly, Arthur perked up, "So I will be let into the club?"
"Only this once," Merlin nodded, humming as she continued to watch the passing landscape. "So milk it while you can little boy because, after this, the adults are truly talking without you."
"You nearly got us caught!" Jericho huffed, her disdain obvious as she glared her accomplice. Red with exertion, her face betrayed her exhausted lungs as she sucked in deep breaths, hands on her knees as she shot daggers at the equally as winded Howzer.
Just moments ago, surrounded by the villagers and the many activities they had on offer, both knights had received a rather unwelcome surprise. Halfway into the remainders of Jericho's well-deserved pastries, and a good twenty minutes after the confrontation with the large man, they had sought refuge in a much more crowded area of the festival. Packed to the brim with various people of various heights and ages, both Jericho and Howzer had believed that the story circle area was their best bet to remaining hidden from Princess Veronica's sharp eye.
Much less populated areas, such as the area filled with vendors and their stalls, were simply too large and spacious to successfully hide their identities. With their unusual uniforms (and the sword that Jericho had insisted on taking with her), both knights simply stood out too much from the average person. Not to mention Howzer's stunt with the large man...
So, once they spotted a large crowd, the pair dove straight into it. Finding a good spot toward the shadowy outskirts, Jericho perched on a wall and Howzer leaning beside her, they snacked on crumbled pastries and watched at the fire crackled, stories passing from different people as the time ticked on by.
Honestly, they were having a rather good time. Taking their share of relaxation, sneaking away from the Boar Hat, now seemed like quite a good idea now that Jericho and Howzer were able to relax, basking in the easygoing atmosphere of the story circle and its exuberant crowd. Cracking small jokes, jabbing each other in the side as they snickered away like two teenagers in the back of an important meeting: both young adults were the epitome of carefree enjoyment.
That was until Jericho spotted Princess Veronica, eagle-eyed and staring right in their direction.
Panic taking over, she had quickly hopped off the wall, grabbing Howzer by the arm as she yanked him through the throngs of people, far away from the story circle and deeper into the more shadowy cloak of the village's outskirts. All the way there Howzer had questioned her, seeming confused as Jericho rushed away to her mystery location, fast-paced and lip bitten, sword bouncing against her spine with every step.
Then, he saw her too: expectant, tapping her foot, a frown on her face as she gestured at the two.
They had been caught. And both knights decided that running away was their best option.
So, already panicked, they scrambled away as fast as they could, ending up here, in the middle of some thicket surrounded by tall trees and thick bushes, obscured in equally as thick shadows and gloom. Not a soul was around now. Lights, scents and noises from the festival had all dwindled in their mad dash from the princess, tripping over their own rushing legs as they raced down the crowded streets of the village.
Now, in the calm of the storm, anger was setting in. Jericho's anger was setting in.
"You were the idiot who waved to her!" Jericho grumbled out, still out of breath as she grit out the words. Both hands scrunched the material of her skirt. "If you didn't wave she wouldn't have seen us the second time."
"Well, I wasn't the one who wanted to check out the big ass crowds!" Howzer retorted, his face puffed with defiance as he glared at the venomous Jericho. In their rush to escape getting caught, his blonde quiff had been spoiled, the hay-yellow strands now sticking out in different directions. "That was your smart idea, not mine."
"Yeah but we wouldn't have been recognised if it wasn't for your stupid well-kept hair!" Jericho grit out, standing straight as she balled her fists and marched toward Howzer. Pure anger blazed in her eyes, further fueled by the quaking panic filling the back of her mind as she jabbed the blonde knight in the chest, her finger as pointy as a silver sewing needle. "At least I know how to blend in. You just always stick out like the annoying sore thumb you are."
"How mature of you," Howzer rolled his eyes, swatting her hand away. He wasn't going to ignite her fury even more; he wasn't going to feed into Jericho's obvious attempt to shift the blame in order to soothe her own panicking brain.
Sighing, Howzer scratched at his head, "Where are we anyway?"
Frowning at the question, Jericho peered about herself, her brows pinching with further confusion as she took in the landscape. Tall trees, entirely obscured in shadows and darkness, rimmed by dark forest green bushes, a few sharp sticks protruding like snapped bone. Nothing but an eerie silence rang in the ominous air, the sharp rustle of leaves rubbing against each other or the abrupt snap of a twig being the only interruptions.
Swallowing thickly, Jericho unsheathed her sword, needing to grip the weapon in order to feel a sense of safety, protection.
"I don't know where we are," Jericho admitted, frowning as her knuckles felt terse under her sweaty skin. "I panicked."
"So we're lost now," Howzer sighed, shaking his head. "Great. We're definitely going to be in a big trouble."
"If we make it out of here," Jericho chimed in, rather grim as she cautiously eyed the thick gloom of the surrounding woodland.
Being younger than most knights, a member of the newest generation, she was unused to the feeling of isolation from society. When stationed in Baste prison, although located in a building established with the purpose of isolating others from society, Jericho had never felt the discomfort of being entirely alone. With the comforts of society, the burning torches and the thick brick walls, she had always felt somewhat attached to a help, a lifeline, that would come to save her if things went south.
Now though, located in the middle of goddesses knew where, with Howzer as her only line of help... Jericho was definitely feeling the unease set in.
"We're making it out of here," Howzer assured her, his hand a heavy yet grounding anchor on her shoulder. Smiling a little, he tried to pass off an air of nonchalance. "We can't be too far away. Plus I'm sure we came from that direction."
Following his pointing finger, Jericho couldn't help but feel even more shaky at the prospect of walking into the eerie gloom of the uniform woodland. However, if she wanted to get back, she needed to trust Howzer and believe that he actually remembered what way they came from. Otherwise she'd have to accept the alternative and the alternative was not an entirely pleasant thought to have when stranded in the middle of nowhere.
"Alright," Jericho nodded, sucking in a shaky breath. "Lead the way, Loverboy."