A/N - Today on, "Why this is a T-rated fanfic and not a published novel", my apologies for the impromptu Anti-Fairy reproductive system talk there at the very end. It's a necessary(?) evil, and you'll be grateful later when I keep the technical stuff out of the scenes that are supposed to be romantic.

(Posted March 20, 2018)

Tangles That We Weave

In which the Autumn of the Drifting Storm occurs, and Julius is faced with an impromptu mental health diagnosis

I'd wanted to take the scenic route through Fairy World, but Jorgen bringing his staff down hard and sending us off with an explosive poof was certainly a more efficient method of travel. After whizzing painfully through the air for nearly a minute, Mona and I plopped down with a thump on a fluffy street that could only belong to some brightly-coloured location in Fairy World. Coughing on the cloud of dust that accompanied our unflattering entrance, we sat up on our knees and peered around.

On either side of the road, small slope-roofed dwellings stood in lines as though planted in a garden, their plots of purple grass and fluffy blue bushes divided by white fences much simpler than the elegant designs Anti-Penny had shown me during my architecture studies. I'd anticipated wooden structures, but found myself faced instead with buildings pieced together from small square blocks the Fairy Worlders called cloudstone. We weren't far from the town well, with its wooden bucket to scoop ice crystals from the clouds below. At the end of the street, I could just see a rather large grey building with thick cables spanning from it and across the sky. The tram station. We didn't have any of those in Anti-Fairy World, but they were supposed to make travel a breeze for naiads- the word for any Fairy without wings. The several dozen snow-capped mountains in the distance beyond the station must be the Tortoiseshells, which (along with the huge gap of sky beyond the cloudcliffs) divided little backwoods Novakiin from the bustle of Faeheim itself.

"Ho hum. So these are the depths of Fairy World." No stereotypical cloudstone paths winding every which way that I could see. Although in retrospect, this was a small town we were visiting, so it only made sense that the road would be comprised of nothing but glittery pink and white fluff. The soft vapour squished between my fingers, moulding around my hands like clay. When I crushed it in my fist, it turned to powder and condensation, leaving my palm spotted with streaks and droplets.

"So small," murmured Mona, sizing up the nearest small building with wide eyes. "Legitimate locals literally love living like this?"

"Some of them do. It's less common for gynes, I think- the freckled Fairies, I mean. They prefer large spaces open enough for them to manage entire estates, and the drones loyal to them live on with them too. Regular kabouters, however, do tend to prefer these small residences. See it, Mona?" Of course she did, but I pointed at one of the structures with my wand anyway. "Little places like these happen to be the most common dwelling style in Fairy World. It's called a house. A close family live in it together. Just those who are explicitly related; mums, dads, children. That's it."

"House," she repeated, and shook her head in bewilderment. I smiled and helped her to her feet by the hand.

I had to hand it to Jorgen; his accuracy of gauging our location out of every possibly point in Fairy World was astonishing. He'd only missed by three houses. Number 37 fit my mental image of a Fairy nobleman's home designed in the architectural stylings of the Central Star Region, albeit this particular example looked more reserved in decor than the splendour I'd been told to expect. The L-shaped building perched off on its own at the curve of the street, facing away from the mountains and tram station, and instead towards the buttes and beaches that bordered the sharp drop off the cloudcliff. I'd never been on a Plane of Existence this low before. Off that drop, I knew, it was a straight shot down to actual Planet Earth itself, with its oceans, mud, frequent precipitation, and temperate seasons.

Number 37 was lovely to look at, with rounded archways bordering the door and each of three windows on this side (glass windows, of course). Half the house looked to be made from actual cloudstone, the other half imported stucco still bearing the golden grittiness of Earthside sand. The grass in the courtyard was kept trim and absent of weeds, the path lined with short hedges on one side. Wide, semi-circular steps led up to the front door. A small, stone-lined pond accented with a miniature waterfall glittered in the violet grass out front; once I jimmied the lock on the fence using the knife in the handle of my wand, Mona and I scampered over to see it and crouched down with our hands grasping our knees. Swimming around were the biggest greyfish I had ever seen, coated with piebald markings. There were even a few red-throated glimmerbacks in there. Ha! We didn't have anything like this back in Anti-Fairy World! Our water froze too far from the border. When I dipped my finger in, the pond felt much warmer than the water I was used to at home.

After bouncing up to the three rounded steps to the door, I turned to Mona. "Well? This is it, my dear. We've done it! We actually made it all the way to Fairy World! Are you ready?"

She hopped from her left foot to her right. "And excited."

"As am I. Come on now." The door itself was wooden, but it had a square glass window embedded in its upper half. Mona flew up and knocked on that with her knuckles until we could pick up footsteps on the other side. Elated, we exchanged a glance and straightened our backs. I ran my claws over my scruffy hair in a feeble attempt to smooth it down. Mona flipped her hair out from beneath her amauti, humming softly.

The door was answered and pulled inward by a grown, pretty damsel dressed in a pale blue bathrobe that wasn't tied. Rather, she held it closed at her chest with her hand. In the hand she'd used to open the door, she also balanced a long yellow stick. A trail of sugar powder wafted into the air from one of its end. Her dark blue hair was pinned up, twisted and overlaid with braids in a short tower of sparkling curls that would have put anyone's but my mum's to shame. Above her head floated a golden crown with six sharp points. Might she be Fergus' wife, perhaps?

"Anti-Fairies," she observed, peering down her nose at us. She sounded amused, not annoyed or even surprised. She brought the yellow stick in her hand to her mouth, then blew a small cloud of what I assume was sugar powder into the air. "You little rascals are a long way over the border. I assume you've come here deliberately. What can I do for you?"

Mona nudged me with her foot. I cleared my throat, brushing my hands down the front of my tunic. Forcing my anxious hackles to remain flat was more of a challenge. "Yes, well. Good day, my dame. My name is Julius, and I've been informed that this is or was the residence of a Whimsifinado family. My hope is that you can direct me to an Ambrosine Whimsifinado. You see, I've come here to request he proctor a particular intelligence test for me. I plan to exceed all expectations using my superior intellect, and go on to enrol in the level of school I'm best suited for. If, however, Fergus Whimsifinado is present here, I would also be interested in speaking with him as well. He knew my father, you know."

"Can't call Keepers on us kids," Mona blurted, clutching the hems of her amauti sleeves in her fists. "Please?"

"We're here on personal business," I clarified, bobbing my head at the Fairy damsel. "Not on bad luck-distributing duties of any sort. We're off the clock unless something around here happens to trigger us or any vicious umbrae, you see. Don't worry. Mona here is trained in umbrae combat, and I'm an apprentice homeostasis specialist myself."

The damsel broke eye contact with us. "Homeostasis specialist? Isn't that a euphemism for 'demon summoner'?"

"Oh. You know about that. Yes, well." A bit nervous that I had said too much, I brushed some of my hair towards my cheek. "Yes. I admit that I am presently learning to summon and control demons such as the umbrae. It was under Ambrosine Whimsifinado's personal recommendation, if you happen to know him. But I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me. The most I can urge them to do so far is tie a fellow's shoelaces together. Really nothing destructive at all."

Mona put her arm around my shoulder. "He'll hail horrendous havoc hastily, honey."

I cleared my throat. "Mona, let's not brag now. I'm not an adult quite yet."

Leaning away, the Fairy called deeper into the house, "Amby, honey, you have company."

A muffled, confused groan sounded from the back and to the left of the building, at the end of a corridor. My ears twitched. With a smirk, the damsel tilted her head inside. "He'll be a minute. Why don't you both come in and settle?"

"Thank you, dame." She'd called for "Amby", presumably short for "Ambrosine". So Fergus Prime's permanent residence in the cloudlands was actually the residence of his father? Frankly, I didn't blame him; this abode may be a single building, but it packed all the style of Winkleglint's estate. Although, to my disappointment, I couldn't pick up any trace of Fergus' spicy, smoky pheromones here. I suppose he really had gone rogue from the cloudlands after all.

I studied the damsel in the doorway again. Perhaps my judgment was primed considering my location, but her blue-violet eyes reminded me strongly of Emery from back when I was five. Most probably, then, she was Emery's mother. Given that Ambrosine was a common fairy and their subspecies was supposed to be strictly monogamous for life, she had to be his wife, and Fergus' mother too (I found that she did share a squarish sort of jawline with him, if you squinted enough). Obviously, this must be Solara Posy. Or perhaps Solara Whimsifinado would be the more accurate name.

Solara shut the door behind Mona and I, and gestured with her powder stick at the sofa on the left side of the den. No roosts. Every movement she made was a flowing one. The sweet, tempting allure of sugar wafted around my nose. I inhaled it as Mona and I sat on the rounded sofa, trying to maintain the image of an innocent, proper child and not let on that I was doing so. Rather, I disguised myself by coughing into my fist and glancing around. The den, I observed, was strangely unseparated from the kitchen and dining area. Rather, they were both connected to form one large room, though I couldn't help but observe that the sink was full of dishes. For the first time, it occurred to me that most Fairies, even those of noble standing, probably didn't have servants to keep things tidy for them. Perhaps that was at least part of the reason behind choosing to own such small living spaces.

In the centre of the den area stood a low black table lined with silver on the edges. A mug half-full of sweet-scented herbal tea, evidently Solara's, stood guard beside a stack of parchment. An unlit fireplace lay across the room, logs smouldering with embers, and a stuffed pink chair perched to the right of it. Although the fireplace wasn't burning, several candles in little silver dishes sat on tables around the room, filling it with the gentle scent of rosemary. I imagine the room was intended to foster a venue for communication, although I detected more than a few unstructured corners that a stream of pure karma would bounce off as opposed to glide smoothly over. How embarrassing.

Nothing balanced on the white mantel apart from two small paintings framed and free of dust. Both fairies showed their teeth through their grimacing smiles. One was a young damsel with short black hair, outfitted in purple with her hands tucked in their usual pockets on the front of her baggy shirt. Emery. The other painting depicted a pale, chubby-bodied drake in a fuzzy grey jumper; lavender-eyed, his hair scruffy and black, his forehead creased with irritation. The crown floating low above his head was golden too, but to my shock, several of its points had actually broken right off. Or perhaps had never been. The artist had captured the rough-and-tumble air about him, from the wild spikes at the sides of his hair to smears of dirt across his face. He held his shoulders tensely, ready to snap down his wings and bolt at a mere moment's notice. Light brown freckles bridged his nose and spotted his sharp cheeks. A distinctive spiral cowlick curled out from the back of his hair, just like Ambrosine's, only it swirled low instead of high. I'd noticed that exact same swirl showing up in Anti-Robin's sketches a hundred times. Ha. I certainly didn't have to ask who that bloke was.

Curiously, an enormous cloth map of the Lower East Region of the cloudlands hung, centred, above the mantel. A distinct path had been marked with pink arrow symbols. Beside the map hung a red loop of ribbon weighed down by a sparkling silver medal. Something about the set-up bothered me, and for a long moment, I sat with my cheek resting against my hand and my elbow in my other palm, just studying the trail on the map. What would a fairy want to keep a map of the Lower East Region for? That was Anti-Fairy territory, represented on the Council by the Teal Robe. Fairies had no claim to it.

Solara noticed me looking as she brushed past and took the place on my left. Settling, she cleared her throat. "Are you very interested in history, Julius?"

"Oh… I've had a couple years of studies. I'm in training to become a homeostasis specialist someday, you remember, and the first thing we have to memorise as part of our architecture studies is the timeline of major events in general Fairykind history, yes." I stared at the map a few seconds longer, then snapped my fingers. "I say! That's the path the Mulberry Division took during the War of the Sunset Divide when they caused the collapse of the Soil Temple and went on to destroy the Shadow Bridge that connected Luna's Landing to Earth." I had a sudden inkling regarding what the medal must be for, then.

"Is it?" Solara asked absently, adjusting her mug on the low table.

I leaned forward, pinching my clasped hands between my knees. "Yes. My paternal grandfather Anti-Gonzo Anti-Cosma was part of the force that relocated the Anti-Fairy refugees, both those who were forced into the cloudlands from Earth and those dwelling in Fairy World. Back before the war, Anti-Fairies used to have homes and colonies in Fairy World, of course. Why, Anti-Gonzo even relocated my maternal grandmother Anti-Miranda when she was pregnant with my mum's elder sister, Anti-Joanie, and raising my uncle Anti-Harold too. Had there not been a war, I may have been born in the Lower West Region, represented on the Fairy Council by the Green Robe." Back in those days, it hadn't been law that Anti-Fairies could only hold position as the Navy, the Teal, or the Maroon…

"Your grandmother was pregnant with your mum's elder sister?"

I nodded. "My grandmother was favoured of the nature spirits. We Anti-Luniflys are descended from the Teumessian fox herself, you know. Her Glory Cadmea's blood runs in our veins. When we're on the run, we can't be captured unless we choose to be. We were a valuable asset during the war, and it's why my grandmother was relocated to the Anti-Coppertalon colony. The Anti-Luniflys have been nobles ever since."

Solara groaned. She took a sip of tea before pressing it back on the little black table. "The kid's grandma was pregnant with her second pup during the war. Good dust, I'm getting old."

"Yes, dame."

Mona elbowed me between the ribs.

"No, dame," I corrected myself.

A few seconds later, my flicking ears picked up the sound of sleepy footsteps. Ambrosine walked, not floated, down the hall, dressed in a maroon bathrobe. His wasn't tied either, nor did he hold it closed. It hung around him like a duster, revealing his bare chest and, well, his, um… his pants. They were purple. Mona and I both glanced away, she with a hum while I bunched the hem of my tunic in my hands.

With a sigh, Solara took another draw on her powder stick. "I see that despite my warning, you didn't even bother to get dressed."

"If that's Fergus showing up on my doorstep unannounced in the middle of the night after all these millennia, he doesn't deserve to see me dressed," Ambrosine muttered through a yawn. He shoved his fingers through his black hair, adjusting a thin metal instrument on his nose at the same time, then saw us and stopped. "Why are there Anti-Fairy pups in my keeping room?"

I stood and placed my hand to my chest. "Yes. I'm Julius Anti-Lunifly, as you recall. From the Blue Castle? You paid us a visit three years ago. Do you remember that? I recall that Fairies aren't the best at remembering things, so it seems polite to ask. I'm eight years old now. You're the one who determined I held mastery over the skills of designing a room to achieve appropriate levels of karmic flow while keeping the room's elements distinct enough for those who navigate by echolocation to determine one thing from another. This here is my betrothed, Mona Anti-Feldspar. She's six. Don't be at all wary of us, please. We haven't come to cause you any misfortune, I assure you. Rather, I am in dire need of something only you - Yes, you! - can provide. What do you say to that, hm?"

For a brief moment, nothing. Ambrosine pulled his robe shut and tied it with a careful knot. He glanced at Solara, who gazed back at him with a young, innocent look on her face, her lips pressed lightly together as though she had just given him a wrapped gift, and was awaiting his reaction once he removed the shiny paper. To me, Ambrosine said, "How much sleep did you get last night, Julius?"

I frowned. "What an odd question. None at all. Why?"

"You came all this way from the Blue Castle without any sleep, did you?"

"Oh, yes!" I braced my hands against the low table, barely restraining the urge to wag my tail straight out of my pants. "I was so excited to come see you, you see, and I feel absolutely exhilarated! Why, I ran most of the way here, and outsmarted a von Strangle along the way, hahaha! Ohh, what fun."

"And…" He studied me with groggy eyes. "Exactly how much time did you spend planning this little visit across Fairy World?"

I drummed my claws along the table top. "Hmm. Not quite half of an entire day, I suppose, but I was up all night working out the details too."

"I see you came here in a damsel's company."

"Of course." Grabbing Mona's hand, I pulled her off the couch and had her stand beside me. "Mona is my betrothed. Isn't she a lovely flower of precious glory? Someday we're going to be married, and we'll have the healthiest and most gorgeous pups you've ever seen. You see, I intend to crack the secret of Anti-Fairy heat cycles and find a loophole around my own infertility. When I'm through, Anti-Fairies are going to have enough pups to outnumber you Fairies at least 4 to 1! Nay, 5! Ohh, can you imagine how that will turn out for you lot? I give myself gooseflesh just dwelling upon the possibilities, aha!"

Ambrosine touched his lips with his fingers. "I see… Julius, have there been any times in recent memory when you felt completely overwhelmed with crushing despair? Especially for days at a time?"

Dropping Mona's hand, I plucked up the warm mug of tea that perched on the low table, switched it to my left hand, and took a long sip. It was surprisingly lemony, and really quite good, although frankly I would have preferred a hint of dry ginger or perhaps some honey mixed in too. I did so love the taste of honey. "Oh, I'm over that miserable week now, you understand. A minor inconvenience, that; merely a slip-up on my part. From now on, I'm not going to let myself feel sorry for failing to help other people with their problems. Working on other things is much more fun, don't you agree? You must, seeing as you've chosen to follow a career in therapy. Yes, I'm sure you understand. It's what you do, an integral part of your very being."

Ambrosine, holding the ties of his bathrobe in his hands again, studied me with half-lidded eyes. Even so, the bright shade of blue pierced me through the chest. "Unfortunately, all my prescription papers are up at Wish Fixers, and the pharmacy is shut down since it's Thursday anyway…"

Not sure what he was getting at, I shrugged again. "Oh, that's no matter at all, sir. All I need from you is the intelligence test, no prescription drugs of any sort required. Well? Can you proctor it now? I'd really like to get it done as soon as possible, and then I wish to hit the highest level of upper school I can reach that my age and brains will allow, and absolutely blow all those miserable little Fairy twits out of the water! It's going to be brilliant!"

"Because of the way you rapidly fluctuate between overly energetic and lethargic moods, I'm diagnosing you with divus displacement disorder." There wasn't a gram of sugar-coating in his words.

"Say what, now?" Folding my arms, I tapped my foot against the floor, and my claws against the mug. "Hmm. I don't remember requesting a diagnosis on my mental state. No, I don't recall asking your opinion at all. What I requested is an intelligence test. I've crossed half of Fairy World to get one now, and I'm certainly not leaving here without it."

Ambrosine massaged one of his temples as he stared down at me, pity etched across his round face. "Julius, I think I need to give you The Talk."

I rolled my eyes and fluttered my fingers his way, not uncrossing my arms. "Ambrosine, believe me, I'm nearly a decade old now. I pieced together all that stuff about the wands and the wings ages ago, good man."

"I mean about the nests and the honeycomb. Of course, we usually give this talk in spring." Ambrosine blew out the air that had filled his mouth, his eyes wandering to the ceiling. "You see, Julius, every decade on Easter, the Easter Bunny brings a basket of duck and goose eggs to all the young freckled Fairies who are over 5,000 years old. When baby ducks and geese, or ducklings and goslings if you will, first hatch from their eggs, they imprint on the first living creature they see. They can even imprint on bouncing balls. Or, as you can imagine, on a freckled fairy, otherwise known as a gyne. A gyne must be very gentle with the Easter ducklings in their care, raising them to be fine adult birds. And when bees hatch from their honeycomb cells, well, some bees are born to be queens, leaving the rest to eke out their existence as workers…"

"Sir, my brain is easily advanced enough to comprehend the straightforward realities of what you want to say without the need to dress them up in pretty acts of storytelling." I took another sip of tea. "Give it to me hot, darling."

"There isn't really an easy way-"

"Divus displacement disorder means you're really a drone Fairy who was born in the body of an Anti-Fairy, kiddo," Solara summed up, swirling her powder stick through the air.

"I know what it means! Divus is the suffix in Faedivus, the genus name for Fairies, after all." My cheeks burned. I pretended not to notice Mona's stare on the back of my head. "A-and that's simply not true! I don't have any drone-like behaviours. There's nothing in my biology that suggests I should be one, or any kind of Fairy at all."

"You see," Ambrosine began patiently, "in times of danger, our ancient ancestors the Aos Sí literally Split their minds and bodies apart to become the three races we refer to collectively as the Sluagh. The process is repeated even now when trace amounts of lifesmoke and lifemist fly across the cloudlands to locate their hosting counterpart, and absorb aspects of their host's personality before flying off again to take residence in their actual physical bodies. The process normally goes smoothly, but sometimes, a little too much Fairy is brought back to the body of an Unseelie Courter. We don't know why yet. And when that happens, a young, unstable Anti-Fairy will fumble through life until he imprints on the first gyne whose pheromones really fill his nose and starts behaving like a-"

"No!" I squeezed my eyes shut, tightening my toes against the hard floor. "The literal Splitting of the Aos Sí into three separate counterparts is a Daoist belief. We Anti-Fairies don't believe in the teachings of your silly religion. Evolution is the way it happened- evolution from dust or mist or smoke. I didn't imprint on Fairy-Fergus when I sniffed his census card! I'm not a dumb goose or a bee. I'm a person! A person in control of myself and my behaviours. A-and it's not your decision to make whether I'm a real Anti-Fairy or not."

"I'm a mind and magic therapist for Fairies, Anti-Fairies, and Refracts alike. Diagnosing divus displacement disorder is what I do."

"If- if I wasn't a real Anti-Fairy, would I be wishing I could roost upside-down right now? Being upright for so long makes me dizzy. O-or, would I know how to summon and disable umbrae?"

Ambrosine looked at me, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "What if I had you take a foolproof test for me, Julius?"

"Absolutely. I'm an Anti-Fairy at heart through and through, and I can prove it."

Ambrosine walked over to a bookcase on the far side of the sofa, took a single scrap of parchment, a brush, and a pot of black ink, and placed them on the table in front of me. "All right. I'd like you to pick up that brush, and draw a circle on the parchment."

I frowned. "Draw a circle? What kind of circle?"

He lifted just one eyebrow. "That's up to you. Draw whatever feels right when you think 'circle.'"

Uncertainly, I handed my mug to Mona, then plucked up the brush and switched it over to my left hand. What kind of circle would prove undeniably that I was meant to be an Anti-Fairy? A perfect one? A shaky one? Hmm. Ambrosine seemed to enjoy relying on stereotypes about my race, so maybe this was a test to see if an Anti-Fairy would actually follow a Fairy's instructions to keep my work on the parchment. Even so, I hesitated, a drip of ink from the brush falling with a splatter. Of course, black ink wouldn't really show on the black wood of the table, and I was a guest in Ambrosine's home. Although he'd offended me, I didn't really want to ruin something he held dear.

But I had to prove I was an Anti-Fairy somehow… So I made the swishing mark on the table top without regrets and threw the brush down again.

"There you go. A perfect circle. Only a true anti-fairy would draw a mathematically perfect circle like this one. The radius remains even all the way around, you see?"

Ambrosine folded the middle and pinky fingers of one hand over his lips. His pointer finger lay parallel to his cheek. "How wobbly or well-curved the circle is had nothing to do with the instinct I was measuring. The point is, you didn't draw it anti-clockwise. And so, when taken in the context of your other symptoms…"

Every gram of magic in my blood thudded to my feet right then. "No," I said, my voice cracking. I pulled away, covering my mouth. "You- you- Why, you cad! You quack! You must have known I write with my left hand! That's why you gave me this test! You knew I'd draw it in that direction!"

I wasn't an anti-fairy with a drone Fairy's brain. I didn't imprint on Fergus Prime. I'm me.

"Julius." Mona reached up to touch my elbow. "I'll find faithful fondness for you, friend or Fairy."

Miserably, I reached over to put my arm behind her neck. That was the first time I looked at the tea I'd handed her, and it finally clicked that it wasn't mine. I looked up to see Solara and Ambrosine both staring at me, their heads both cocked in opposite directions so their floating crowns nearly bumped. Still a little flustered, I carefully returned the mug to the little table and nudged it closer to Solara. "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry I took that. I wasn't even thinking. Here you are. I'll keep my hands to myself from here on out. Really, forgive my lack of manners. That's unbecoming of me."

Solara sighed. "Keep the drink, hon."

"No, no, I insist. It was yours first, after all, and this is your residence. I only touched this one part of the rim, and I'm positive I didn't transfer any germs." One benefit of having such acidic saliva: many bacteria couldn't survive it.

"I can't." Solara shifted in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. The hem of her bathrobe rose dangerously up her calf- nearly to her knee, I couldn't help but notice. Motioning vaguely with her powder stick, she said, "I'm well over the age of 150,000."

"Looking lively, lady," Mona interjected, and Solara flashed her a smile.

"Your kindness precedes you, kid. Even so, I am an adult. My immune system will reject Anti-Fairy hormones passed along through your bodily fluids. If I taste an Anti-Fairy's saliva, even that of a young drake like yourself, I'll suffer Rhoswen syndrome, and we can't have that, can we now?"

"You'll start wanting to kiss Anti-Fairies if you taste our saliva?" I asked in surprise. Seriously, that… that sounded painful. Automatically, I glanced down at the mug. It hadn't started dissolving beneath the touch of my lips. Yet.

Ambrosine folded his arms. "'Wanting' isn't precisely the word for it. Rhoswen syndrome is a serious condition, much more intense and destructive than simple attraction. The only people who think that's what it means have never experienced the actual effects. See, Rhoswen syndrome is…"

He made groping motions with his hand as he felt with the word, then upturned his palm. "It's the sudden, short-term, nearly uncontrollable urge to honey-lock with a member of the opposite Court. The intense feelings can last for hours, days, weeks, or months depending on how much fluid entered the system. While it affects Seelie and Unseelie Courters alike, it certainly seems to affect Seelie Courters hardest- presumably because they feel a sudden disconnect with two Unseelie counterparts, not just one Seelie. There's a reason we don't accept blood donations between our two races." Ambrosine adjusted his feet, briefly glancing down. "You're an Anti-Fairy, Julius. You understand the desire of the universe to maintain balance. Homeostasis. Fairies, Anti-Fairies, and even Refracts are too impure in their mortal forms to handle the kind of raw, godly bliss that kissing across Court boundaries offers."

… That couldn't be right. No kissing across Court boundaries, ever? But what about true love?

"Have you ever experienced Rhoswen syndrome, Ambrosine?"

"No, but I'm a mind and magic therapist. True, my main focus is children, but helping those suffering with Rhoswen syndrome regain control of their lives is another of my specialties."

While I was still reeling from the shock of the whole concept, Ambrosine finished his explanation of mortal impurity with, "It's only after death that the spirits of three counterparts can come together as a whole in a solidified Daoine form."

I frowned. "Well, I'm not so sure about that."

"You're just a child," Ambrosine assured me. "You wouldn't have been exposed to much Daoine doctrine in Anti-Fairy World."

"I'm a believer in the Zodii teachings." I emphasized "Zodii", maintaining eye contact. "I believe that the nature spirits influence our world and use their abilities to encourage and guide us towards our most satisfying fate. We are their masterpieces. When we die, the smoke and spirit that control our physical body are reused according to the spirits' intent. We may become plants or rivers or storms, or, if we are favoured, we might inhabit the body of one of our descendants. Daoine forms are not, as you Daoist folk insist, the spirits of the deceased. They're what's left of the damned after the nature spirits have afflicted their curse on those who attempt to venture to Plane 23 even after Evadne and Ione were struck down. Let me assure you that I have no intention, now or ever, of switching over to the teachings of Daoism."

Solara drew again on her powder stick. Curls of magic swirled from her nostrils in a delicate cloud of wispy dust. "The kid makes a poetic argument. You have to grant him that."

"I do, thank you, but that aside, how could a Fairy and an Anti-Fairy possibly honey-lock anyway?" I made divisive motions with my hands. "I've always been told that the respective reproductive parts of Fairies and Anti-Fairies are far too different to come together in passionate relations, not unlike those of an Earthside bat and a dragonfly. You have your double organs and your sperm-storing pouches, and we have our vertically-oriented method of contact and our, mm… barbs. Our systems don't mix directly; if there is to be any intimacy between lower halves of our respective bodies, compromise must be found, and it wouldn't lead to any contact resembling the rather straightforward connection of the honey-lock." I waved my hand. "And I haven't even mentioned the other impractical culture differences. You Fairies prefer breeding only in your individual designated spawning sites that I've heard drakes are extremely particular about decorating, while we Anti-Fairies require upside-down roosting in order to impregnate one another due to the way our parts fit together. I can hardly imagine either side would be content with the others' preferences. Need I go on?"

"I like this kid," Solara said, ruffling my hair with her hand. "He's world-weary already."

"Fairies and Anti-Fairies can't mix." Ambrosine was firm on the matter, his hands tucked away beneath his armpits. When he leaned forward, his dangling wings started to pick up, beating with a low, rapid hum. "And that's the problem. The desperate lust that fills an Unseelie Courter's mind when his honey-lock instinct kicks in will fade after he joins with his honey-lock partner and releases the magical build-up. Satisfaction takes its place. But Fairies and Anti-Fairies are built differently and can't initiate the same act of bonding, so it drives them insane for hours or days until one of them finally tears the other apart in self-defence."

He meant the Anti-Fairy always came out the victor of such skirmishes, I presume, seeing as my people simply turned to smoke when we "died" and then regenerated again. "Ah. That's rather odd, isn't it? Why do you suppose we evolved that way?"

Ambrosine maintained his poise and patient expression, even though I could tell from the ticking chime in the energy field that he was reeling back a definite temper. Carefully, he brushed his palm down his knee. "Evolution has nothing to do with this. It's simply the way we Fairykind are. Having our souls divided between three separate counterparts isn't our natural state. We are descended from the powerful Aos Sí race, and the brain craves a return to that united form. Every Fairykind brain does. Close, intimate bonds with members of the opposite Court are sacred things. Mortals aren't ready for that. Allowing contact in this impure state overexcites the neurotransmitters to the point of instability."

I folded my arms. "Why, now that's curious. I thought you Daoist folk kissed your Refracted counterparts as part of your baptism ceremonies. The High Countess herself taught us that."

He inclined his head very slightly. "When we're underage. The hormones involved in true Rhoswen syndrome don't seize hold of the mind until you develop your adult body. And, in our coming-of-age ceremonies, we are very careful not to exchange saliva with our counterparts. Pecks are kept light and chaste."

Hmm… As Ambrosine continued to stare at me, and Mona fidgeted at my side, I scratched my chin. "Well, logically, if a Fairy really does react negatively to Anti-Fairy bodily fluids as you so claim, would it not be beneficial then to expose Fairykind youth to trace amounts of cross-Court blood samples frequently prior puberty, in the same way a vaccine could aid one in building up an immunity as a result of being exposed to a small scrap of disease?"

Ambrosine shook his head. "No. Fairies and Anti-Fairies just aren't meant to mix in this life. Nothing we do can change that."

"But in my family-"

"No."

"Before the war, my grandmother Anti-Miranda was married to a-"

"No."

"But my uncle Anti-Harold's step-family-"

"Julius, an entire war was fought over this issue for more than thirty years. The separationists won, and the blenders lost. We have the Barrier in place for good reason, for the physical and psychological health of both our peoples. It's logical fact. Please do not argue with me about this."

He kept that one eyebrow high above the rims of the instrument on his nose, arms still crossed. It was quite the annoying posture, and I knew at once that I could make no headway against it, even though I hadn't finished debating with him yet. "Whatever," I muttered. Sighing, I bent my head and leaned forward with my hands on my knees. My bangs fell into my eyes. "I see. Well, with that behind us, let's get to that intelligence test now. Mona, I imagine you ought to stay behind so I may best concentrate while I work. Yes. Um. Thank you for allowing us inside and pleasuring us with your lovely conversation, Dm. Solara. It was much appreciated while it lasted."

The mug she'd just picked up slipped from her fingers and fell to the hard floor. It didn't shatter entirely, though part of the rim chipped off and skidded away towards the kitchen side of the front room. Tea droplets splattered. Mona flinched. Abruptly Solara rose, fixing her stare on Ambrosine. He stood there, bug-eyed and mortified. Then he slid off the instrument on his nose and started to polish the glass half-circles on the hem of his shirt.

"Where did you hear that name?" Solara snapped at me, her hair bristling up. Her creamy fingers clenched in the folds of her bathrobe, disappearing like milk amidst soup. "In this household, we don't speak that name."

"I-it was in my father's notes." As she leered at us, Mona and I shrank into the cushions. "He- he mentioned that Anti-Fergus was born of a union between Anti-Ambrosine and Anti-Solara. I'm terribly sorry. I just assumed you and she were one and the same, you know what I mean?"

Solara, or I suppose the damsel who wasn't Solara, sank slowly back into her chair and placed the back of her wrist against her forehead. "Ní larki. Here I am paying a pleasant visit to Novakiin in the hopes of enjoying a restful weekend retreat while Emery is away at school, and this strange child waltzes in and starts throwing the Solara name all about like that. I can't- I just can't. Amby, dear, I can feel the most dreadful migraine coming on. Would you get the chocolate-maple ice cream?"

I fully expected Ambrosine to wave his wand and poof her request straight out of the icebox, but instead, he drifted across the kitchen to fetch it by hand, along with some relatively clean dishes drawn from the bulging sink. Oh, right. Whimsifinado family. They'd made their fortune in frugality. Of course he wouldn't waste magic on something so frivolous as that.

"I, um… I apologise for my assumptions, dame. If I may change the subject?" I waited a polite beat, fingering Mona's hand, then said, "Could you tell me what exactly happened to Fergus Whimsifinado? This address is listed as his permanent residence in the official cloudland census. However, he's marked as absent without official leave. I'd be interested in having a conversation with him. You see, I have reason to believe he knew my father; access to a primary source, if you would."

"Always knew the brat would turn out to be a cream puff," she muttered.

"A cream puff, dame?"

Not-Solara grunted into her mug, bringing it back to her lips. "A much prettier way of saying he liked to schmooze up to Unseelie Courters. Their fur or feathers literally puff when they're flustered, and the face you make when you see 'em that way looks like you're the cat who got into the cream. Cream puff."

The word was new to me, but Ambrosine almost dropped the ice cream carton upon returning to the den. "Dear! They're children. They don't need to hear this."

She rolled her eyes. "Amby, if they're illegal border-crossers who managed to stalk you halfway across Fairy World, I think they're mature enough to handle a little vocabulary lesson regarding the finer points of life. Plus, you're the one who said Julius here imprinted on Fergus' pheromones in the first place. Seeing as he's stuck with that reek in his little brain for the rest of his life, he at least deserves to know a bit about who the guy actually was."

"Hold on now, hold on!" My hands went to my mouth. Then to my temples. "You mean, Fergus Whimsifinado actually had intimate relations across Court boundaries? Rhoswen syndrome notwithstanding?" Could he do that these days? Could I do that these days? My mind flashed back to my father's notes. Of course, he only recorded meeting Fergus once, back when he was young. A critical act of kindness had turned my father from a lousy troublemaker to being gentle and helpful to Fergus' counterpart to balance out the resulting karma. He claimed he never saw Fairy-Fergus again.

But for the first time, I wondered if my father had gotten his coloured eyes from my mother after all. Anti-Shylinda had gotten the iris virus off Jay Rhoswen so many ages ago, granting favour to the Anti-Coppertalon line. My eyes shot to the framed image of young Fergus sitting on the mantel. Well, why couldn't Anti-Robin contract it directly from a Fairy too? Couldn't embarrassing, goody-goody Anti-Robin have been a rule-breaker after all, gone smooching Seelie Courters beneath the blind eye of the law? Oh gods, let it be so. Let him have done something scandalous that I could boast about to my friends when we gossiped about ways to play with fire! And if it were for true love, all the better.

Ambrosine sighed and floated over with the carton. He handed it and a spoon to Not-Solara. "It's true that my son was never interested in Seelie Courters. I taught him how to woo and how to kiss, but some Fairies are cut out for that lifestyle, and some of them aren't. Despite my best attempts to have him married off and give him someone to care for besides himself, he flat-out wasn't interested. However, I'm not sure I'd go so far as saying he was interested in the Unseelie Court, either. He just…" He blinked. "… wasn't interested in people."

Not-Solara waved her spoon at him. "You left the kid to be raised by prudes for twenty-nine years while you went off to fight a big, flashy war. That's what ruined him as a nymph."

"Gidget and Reuben were hardly what I'd call prudish…"

"But he was intimate with Anti-Fairies," I clarified, holding my interlaced fingers against my chest. "He was, wasn't he?"

Ambrosine would not meet my eyes. "Not really in the conventional sense you're imagining, but there's, um, certainly no denying that Fergus favoured the Refracted in an unusual way."

"How unusual?" I sprang from my seat, ready to fling myself across the room and shake Ambrosine by his collar. "How unusual?"

"Because he admired their lifestyle, not so much individual Refracts themselves," Ambrosine said simply.

I rustled my wings. "And what is thaaat supposed to mean?"

Not-Solara leaned her entire head back when she rolled her eyes. "'Cuz the Refracted are so obsessed with 'purity' and avoiding 'sin' that they never stick their grown-up parts anywhere near each other unless they're making babies, cupcake. They're dull and boring. When they get together, all they ever want to do is talk and make nice and plant flowers, instead of actually taking advantage of the alone time and getting hot and steamy. He's saying Fergus was into that kind of smoof."

You could have heard a tuft of fur shed. Then Mona and I both started crying out together.

"But- Refracts don't bond outside the clutches of the honey-lock, not even to express their love for one another?"

"Giving greetings is great to guarantee genuine gentility."

"Then how do they welcome guests visiting their colonies? Or settle disagreements over territory and hunting grounds? After arguing, they have to make up somehow."

"Surely something similar is sufficient for confronting conflict?"

"But what seals their commitment to their mate if they don't regularly express their affections? Who helps to raise their children when their mate inevitably loses interest in them and moves along? Who meets their bonding needs then?"

Ambrosine gave Not-Solara a hard stare like, Look at what you've done.

"The kid had an honest question," she protested, still scooping through the chocolate-maple ice cream carton. Her eyes narrowed at him. "Honest questions deserve honest answers, Amby. I thought you of all people would feel that way too. Anyway, he's cute." Here, Not-Solara paused long enough to stretch out her finger and tap the end of my nose. "Boop."

Warily, I leaned back in the sofa cushions, hands clenching the fabric of my seat. "What was that for?"

"I dunno. Impulse? It's your big nose. You're irresistible." Not-Solara glanced over at Ambrosine and tsk tsked softly. "I say you raised Fergus on Unseelie hippie birdmilk. Is it any surprise he turned out the way he did?"

"Well." Ambrosine folded his arms. "I didn't have much of a choice, now did I? The damsel who promised to marry me left me abandoned in the Prudoc hospital with a concussion and a nymph with a broken arm."

Not-Solara's fingers tightened around the spoon. Her wings prickled up behind her shoulders, steadily rising until they framed her face. "And do you remember why you were in the Prudoc hospital with a concussion and a nymph with a broken arm, Ambrosine? It wasn't because of what your father tried to do to that freckled spawn of yours, I'll tell you that much."

Ambrosine's blue eyes flew open wide. His arms uncrossed instantly, one hand flying for the bookshelf. He fumbled for a small yellow capsule in a box, but his hand shook when he tried to hold it in her direction. "Now, dear-"

"Don't. You. Dare. We are not doing this again, Amby. Not ever again." Carton down. Not-Solara up. With a flutter of her wings, she was out, door slamming behind her. Ambrosine dropped the capsule back in the box and collapsed on the couch, holding his head in his hands. His wings fluttered.

"Are you sure it's our society that's backwards?" I asked. "Because it seems to me that you and your damefriend could use a lesson in peaceful conflict resolution."

His fingers curled in his black hair, knuckles bulging. "I don't take advice from Anti-Fairies."

"Yes, and see where that's gotten you so far. Perhaps it's time you started. I mean, take Mona and I, for example." I gestured to her with my hand. "We never fight anyway, but if we did, you know what our secret is? We Anti-Fairies don't discuss sensitive subjects unless we're in a calm emotional state. Heated tensions are stupid. When there are uncertain discussions to be had, we first use song to communicate our desires, then take it to the roost to talk things out. You aren't so defensive when the clothing comes off and you're preparing for intimacy, I've been told. There, you can peaceably weigh opposing views on all matter of things, from where to strike first during war to what you believe should be had for dinner that night. It really helps you see both sides of a debate."

Mona nodded empathetically. "Songs soothe souls. Having hate is heinous."

Ambrosine kept his head low, his hands now clasped between his spread knees. The energy field shivered with hail on a tin roof and swirling snow on a blustery day. "It just doesn't work like that for Fairies. Where I'm from, bedding a Fairy damsel to tell her what you want for dinner is a good way to get yourself slapped." Briskly he stood. "Julius, you wanted me to proctor an in-depth intelligence test. Let's get on that."

"Wait wait wait wait!" I flung my arms towards the door of his house. "You aren't seriously going to leave your love floating about out there feeling unwanted, are you? You have to go make up with her."

"She'll be back." He threw a scornful look at the box on the bookshelf. "Considering what my wing-jerk reaction is when I lose, I keep forgetting that it's in my best interest to actually win our fights these days."

"What? What kind of coping mechanism is that?" I jabbed my claw towards the door again. "Good glory, swallow your pride and chase after her, you clueless dope. She's hurting and she needs you. I've waited this long to take that test, and I can wait a little longer. Your relationship comes first. Now, get your saucy tail feathers out in that street and make passionate love to that glorious woman, bloody smoke! Hello? Must I draw you a picture?"

As Ambrosine began to gather stacks of bark strips and parchment from the bookshelf in the corner, he tactfully refused to look me in the eye. "And that will reinforce her spiteful behaviour," he explained lightly, laying out his texts on the black table. He set a small grey chest beside it and unfolded it to reveal a collection of small blocks, the colours on their sides divided into triangle patterns. "Then we will argue more, which inevitably will lead to frequent episodes of passion, which will eventually result in her wanting to stay on with me, which will result in the overjustification effect as I grow bored with her, which will lead to more arguments, which will lead to expectations and frustrations, and we can't have that." Finally, slapping the last text down with the flat of his hand, Ambrosine did look at me again. "I would expect a boy who claims to be descended from the Teumessian fox to understand the thrill that comes with being an elusive catch."

Hmph. Maybe I just didn't get this whole "family in a house" lifestyle. At least he was being honest with me. I respected that, even though I wished he would take me and my advice more seriously. One day, when I was older and more imposing. My gaze meandered back to the picture of Fergus on the mantel, judging me with his nervously curled lip and narrow stare, and then to the cloth map hanging above him. I sighed.

"Ambrosine?" As I watched him set up, I rubbed my shoulder. "May I ask you a question? You fought in the War of the Sunset Divide, didn't you?"

"I was drafted in a few years after it started, yes."

"Well, I know it was mostly Fairies fighting Anti-Fairies, but by the time it was over, you took away our culture and tried to shoehorn in your own. Doesn't that bother you?"

"You have to realise that your old customs were too backwards for modern society." Ambrosine's eyes softened when he looked at me. He brought his hand to my shoulder without requesting permission. "I know you have attachment to anything created by your people, but if you had been alive during the war, you would agree with me that the activities your people publicly engaged in weren't proper. Your people were savages. They devoured babies and cursed all who crossed their path. Anyone who believes in promoting those lifestyles needs to be contained in Anti-Fairy World. You have to understand, times have changed. So should you. We're a modern people. We've evolved to be more advanced than our ancestors, as you Zodii might say. That means you have to wear enough clothing in public to cover breasts and tails, and you can't just flit around mating with anyone you want wherever you want to."

"But the word 'mating' implies ideas of deep contact that lead to procreation," I protested. "And saying 'anyone you want' implies we've reduced an intimate activity intended for bonding and relationship elevation down to the simple lazy act of offering currency for greedy personal pleasure, taking without giving in return, without trying to establish a real relationship. But- but- our intimate exchanges aren't like that. It's purely social behaviour, with gentle touches only lasting for a few dozen seconds at the absolute most. It's like the gyne and drone licking customs. Physical touch means something to us. Really, it's just the mothdames and the people who encourage their commercialised structure who are bad like that. Not the rest of us! The empathy gained from acts of mind-melding and body-melding are simply ways we bond with one another."

Ambrosine sighed. "The overly-promiscuous public behaviours of your people had to be done away with, Julius. You'll understand when you're older."

"Ambrosine, I'm beginning to think that 'the overly-promiscuous public behaviours of my people', as you've so eloquently chosen to put it, are highly sexualised in your people's minds to the point of gross exaggeration. That certainly isn't how we see it. We're a friendly, prosocial species who feel things deeply, and thrive upon empathy and diffused tensions. Put the imagery of spicy, lustful free-for-alls out of your head. That's not what it's like in Anti-Fairy World at all. Our society's method of conflict diffusion is built on simple sociosexual context, not the erotic fantasies of hormonal adolescents."

"I'm going to show you a picture," Ambrosine said. "Use the blocks to recreate the pattern in my picture as accurately as you can."

Another horrible thought came into my head. "Ambrosine? Does this mean that when you visited us at the Blue Castle years ago, you didn't engage in relations with the High Count whatsoever? Even though you and Emery stayed on for supper?" I pressed my fingertips to my lips. "Oh! But, wasn't he insulted that you rejected him?" I could recall the story of a High Countess millennia before Anti-Ember who had been rejected by a guest once, and she'd required a high tribute from his entire town for decades.

Ambrosine took the framed glass circles from his nose and brought them down loudly on the table beside the blocks. His eyes locked onto my face. "All romantic and/or sexual contact between Fairies and Anti-Fairies that has the potential to trigger Rhoswen syndrome has been illegal since the end of the war. This includes the casual pressing together of lower body parts that your people use as greetings and would once force on guests. No exceptions."

"Force?" I wrinkled my nose. "I wouldn't have put it that way. But I say, Ambrosine, that law seems so restrictive. Perhaps I'm not understanding correctly. When you said our Fairy Refract counterparts kiss you during your coming of age ceremonies, you implied that only the exchange of bodily fluids such as blood, saliva, and so forth would result in the mind-seizing effects of Rhoswen syndrome you alluded to, so logically a quick, simple touching of-"

"All intimate or emotionally-prompted touches across Court boundaries are illegal. Please don't discuss it any further."

"Julius," Mona murmured, shifting in her seat.

I tapped my claw against the side of my head. "Ah. You know, chap, I think I see where the confusion lies. While I must admit I don't know all the details of Fairy reproduction, I do have a basic idea. You Fairies have very forward-facing reproductive systems. It seems silly that this could be the reason you find us so offensive, but perhaps, then, simple contact such as pressing the lower body areas together in greeting is much more sensitive and extreme to you than it is us, and the act of making light of such sensations offends you?" I laughed. "You simply aren't built the way we are, so I suppose your hesitation to embrace our culture is understandable. I will explain."

"I'm not looking for an argument, Julius."

"I'm not arguing. I'm discussing my point of view in an intellectually sound manner. Look here, chap. Our reproductive system is vertical. An anti-fairy drake has an organ that points upward at rest, not downward, remaining flat against his stomach, while the damsel's breeding pouch, of course, is an entirely separate part much higher up the body than the greeting contact area." I pointed to the low triangle of skin between my legs. "There's nothing reproductive way down there, Ambrosine, you understand. It's not but sensitive matter. So you realise, then, there is never a chance of accidental intercourse like the sort you Fairies might possibly experience were you to become aroused during a simple gesture of welcome. Anti-Fairies can only engage for breeding upside-down. Our greetings are all very good and proper, you see, touching near enough to our sensitive parts that we feel elated we have been trusted with such respectful bodily contact, but not at all aroused in a sexual manner. See?"

"Julius," he said patiently when I had finished. "That's enough."

I pursed my lips. "All right. Yes, of course, I'll be done now. But I really am serious about this. When you take the context into account-"

Mona elbowed me in the side. "Seriously. Stop spouting and shush, sweetie."

"Oh, gods, don't tell me I'm being too vulgar for a mature adult to handle." I rolled my eyes. "Rhoswen forbid I remind him about my barbs. See, Ambrosine, the respectful greetings exchanged with our guests foster trust and empathy, and they really aren't seen as anything as vulgar as your people make them out to be-"

Ambrosine jabbed his pointer finger into the table, the tip bending. "This is the world you live in now. We fought a long, bitter war over this. Proper clothing is required in public, even for those with fur. The toxic cross-Court marriages that once infiltrated society were terminated. Medication and therapy were provided for those unfortunate enough to be driven insane by Rhoswen syndrome, even though there was little that could be done to ease their suffering until the foreign DNA worked its way out of their systems over the course of several painful months. Fairies and Anti-Fairies were divided in separate halves of the cloudlands. It's better this way for everyone."

"All right, I do see where you're coming from. It makes sense that your culture's want for privacy would conflict with our desire to have nonverbal expressions of respect and appreciation put out there quickly to ensure everyone knows their opinions are valued and the conflict isn't going to escalate, but you simply must understand-"

"Please focus on this test you want me to proctor. It's expected to take you three hours to complete, and I don't want to hear another word about anything else until we're done."

A/N - To clarify, Anti-Cosmo has what is basically bipolar disorder. Remember the ups and downs Winkleglint's drones were experiencing once deprived of pheromones? That's such a well-known phenomenon in Fairy society that naturally, that's what Fairies would call it. Luckily, Ambrosine is so very supportive of him.