A/N: I can't believe I haven't written anything here in over half a year! How time flies. On realising this fact, I started writing a chapter at 9:30pm tonight, and this is what I came up with. So tired now that I might have missed things (especially in Caspian's part) and there may be mistakes, so sorry! But I really just wanted to get something out. Also, I do still plan on continuing that other series! I wrote a bit of the next chapter and then just never got back to it. I really do plan to though.
Caspian had been watching the Seelie girl for some time. Sitting in a tavern towards the back of the room, he kept his gaze on one particular table. The faerie girl was from the Seelie – he could tell by a number of factors. Her clothes, her accent, the way she talked, it was all fairly obvious. It seemed she had come to visit a friend who lived here in the Towns, which was her first mistake. Now, he only needed to wait until she was alone.
His enhanced faerie hearing came in handy, focusing on her voice, and the faerie's with her as they shared some information.
"Something terrible happened," the Seelie girl said, lowering her voice. "Someone tried to poison the Prince."
The other faerie boy gasped, his eyes widening. "What? How could that even happen? Something like that is unheard of. Is he okay?"
"He is recovering, or so I've heard," she said, taking another sip of her drink. "In his room. But it seems his condition is stable."
"The Queen will punish whoever is behind this," the boy replied with confidence, and she made a sound of agreement. Their voices lowered however as they continued, and Caspian narrowed his eyes as a werewolf broke into a drunken song, making it impossible to focus on their voices again.
Instead, he had to wait and bide his time, knowing it was best to approach her when she was on her way back. He took another sip of the faerie drink he'd ordered – the sweetness of it coating his tongue. Another poor imitation that the Towns tried to copy. Adjusting his old cloak – he'd donned it to help keep him disguised – he found it was strange to be wearing it again. The usual weight of it felt right, as if he'd been missing something all along.
He gave a frustrated sigh. The longer he had to wait, the more his thoughts wandered. He had not yet seen Aspen since they'd been together, as he'd left in the night, before dawn. Caspian hadn't been able to wait around all day with his thoughts, leaving a while afterwards to try and escape them. He still felt a flicker of shame and guilt when he thought of it, knowing that it was entirely against what he had planned, and most likely a mistake. Perhaps it would be another thing for Aspen to use against him. In either case, it was his own fault, getting so caught up like that and losing his control and his common sense.
He was finally drawn from his thoughts when the Seelie girl rose to her feet, pressing a quick kiss to the boy's cheek, before she said farewell and moved to leave. The boy didn't look like he was leaving anytime soon, ordering a new drink. Leaving some money on the table, Caspian got to his feet, moving to slip out after her, a rush of cool air greeting him as he stepped outside.
She was naïve as she headed back, not sticking to the safer areas of the Towns. Likely she didn't know the difference. Her clothes were of fine make, and she held herself regally, making him think she had a place in the Court itself. Her wings were a lacey pink, also making her pure blood obvious. She had a bow and quiver over her shoulder, which was practically useless in such a situation.
When she walked down a dimly lit alleyway with no one else in sight, he increased his pace, although he kept his steps silent. Grabbing her, she went to scream, although he was quick to cover her mouth roughly with his hand, muffling it. He was blocking her access to her bow, not that it would have helped much, and when she couldn't reach that, her hand slipped down to her leg, where something glinted faintly. She had long, golden hair, reaching down past her back. Such a thing could easily be used to his advantage, and he grabbed a handful of it to tug her with, making her cry out. Pushing her up against the alleyway wall, he knocked the breath from her, reaching quickly for the knife she'd tried to get, holding it in his own hand. As he worked to get her restrained properly against the wall, pushing his weight against her, and trapping her wings likely painfully against it, her nails, which were filed to sharp points, scratched his neck. He ignored the sting, pushing his hand harder against her mouth, letting her head bang against the wall. Raising the knife, he pressed it to her neck, drawing a trickle of blood and causing her to whimper. "If you try to scream or call for help, I'll slit your throat," he hissed, before drawing his hand back from her mouth. "I have some questions for you, and if you answer those, then I'll let you go. If not then… I won't be so nice," he said, carefully, making sure that she understood.
"Who-… who are you?" she asked, finally stilling when the blade touched her throat. Of course, he could have used one of his own knives, but it was more demeaning to use her own against her. She had been unprepared, and he knew better than most what could happen if you were. "Just let me go now and you won't face any trouble or retaliation. I promise," she pleaded.
"Shut up," he growled, narrowing his eyes. "Or I'll cut out your tongue. You're no use to me unless you answer my questions."
She was silent, and he took a deep breath. "I heard you say that someone tried to poison the Prince. Who was it?" It was strange to be talking about Kellan of all people, and referring to him by such a title. Such information would be beneficial for the Unseelie however, and he had to take advantage of it.
"I don't really know for sure," she whimpered. "It hasn't been announced. I only know what the rumours are…"
"Then tell me," he demanded, pressing the knife a little harder against her skin. Seelies were weak, and it didn't surprise him that she spoke, rather than remaining silent. "Now."
"There's rumoured to be two Court faeries who disagreed with the Prince's views, and who disliked his sympathies towards those lower in status," she said, swallowing. "That's all I've heard. They're being held at the moment."
He pondered over her words. Even at the Seelie, not everyone evidently agreed with Kellan's ideas. That was not so different to the Hunt. He wondered whether Kellan regretted going there, now.
His train of thought was interrupted when she eyed him. "Are you a Hunt faerie, or something else?"
He froze at her words. "What I am is none of your concern," he replied scathingly. He did not want to draw trouble to the Hunt, and neither did he want trouble for him and Aspen. It was a tricky spot that the Unseelie had put him in.
He demanded answers to a few more things, but he wasn't able to glean much else of importance, finding she had little experience with the guards or the Seelie Knights, more of a help with political matters. And of course, she was reluctant to answer, as well.
When he finished, he ordered her to turn and face the wall and place her hands against it. He reached for her bow and arrows, tossing them away. Of course, he could have kept that to give to the Unseelie faerie, but it would have been too hard to hide from Aspen. Instead, he kept her Seelie-made knife, and reached out to cut off some of her golden hair, leaving it jagged at the end. She flinched, as if such a thing pained her, and when he released her, she was quick to run away, no doubt wanting to get back to the Seelie as soon as possible.
With a long sigh, Caspian stared at the things he'd collected, tucking them underneath his cloak, before heading away, knowing he shouldn't remain in such a place for long. Sometimes he felt a little helpless and uncertain in his current living predicaments, and it had almost helped to have someone to take his anger out on, even just for a moment. For someone else to suffer rather than him. Still, he hadn't wanted to kill her, as annoying as she was. He had little reason to, and a dead Seelie would bring even more trouble to his doorstep.
Putting the hood up on his cloak, he was careful on his route back, making sure that he wasn't followed. He knew that that would be the easier of the two tasks expected of him.
Kellan wasn't sure how many days had passed since the poisoning, but he was still in and out of his feverish dreams, his arm burning like someone had set a match to it. One morning he awoke to find someone resting a cold compress against his forehead. He assumed at first that it might be a medic, until he opened his eyes, realising in surprise that it was the Seelie Queen. He struggled for a moment to work out what to say, still half asleep, his mouth feeling dry from disuse.
"Shh," she whispered, her fingers gentle against the side of his face, where she rested them, her other hand holding the compress. "There's no need to say anything. You need to rest." She looked as regal as ever, even wearing a much more casual outfit than he had ever seen her in – a white slip with a floral lace at the hem, which ended a little above her ankles. She turned to look at a medic nearby, whispering something about giving him another sleeping tonic.
"Wait," he said quickly, struggling to sit up, although he failed to, finding he was much too weak. "Not yet… please." He wanted to talk with her first, wanted to be there in the moment. Never once had he been nursed when he was sick as a child by a mother, and it was a strange thought to think of it happening now.
Surprisingly, she obliged, waving the medic away. She was careful as she adjusted, drawing his head into her lap, so that she was cradling him instead of a pillow. "If you feel up to it," she said, lowering her voice. "I am sorry that this has happened to you, my child." There was something almost delicate in her tone, at her first words, before it sharpened. "I will hunt to the ends of this world to find those responsible, and they will pay. I can assure you of that."
"Please, show them some mercy," Kellan pleaded, seeing the flash of surprise in her gaze. "I do not want anyone to be put to death on my account."
"You ask for too much, Kellan," she stated, raising her chin. He had the feeling that if she wasn't holding him, then she would have paced the floor, sensing a restlessness in her. "I do not show mercy to those who seek to hurt my son. Their Prince. This is no small thing."
"I know but…" Kellan coughed, flinching when he accidently bumped his arm. "I have never asked much of you," he said, trying his best to formulate his thoughts in a way to make her listen. "But I am asking this."
She made a sound of displeasure, making it obvious that she didn't like his request. "I will strive to be a little more… lenient than what I originally had in mind," was all that she replied, and he suddenly knew that whatever that involved, he didn't want to know.
"Thank you," he said quickly, letting out a breath of relief. "I want to bring the Court together, not to tear it apart."
Her fingers stroked his face gently, tucking a curl behind his pointed ear. "I know. What noble ambitions you have. Those might be tested here. It is not in our natures to be only good."
He pondered over her words. "My nature is perhaps conflicting with that," was all he replied.
She hummed in response, her expression hard to read as she gazed down at him. "Is there anything else you need – to make you more comfortable, or to help?"
He hesitated for a moment. "No, there is nothing," he replied, although that wasn't entirely true. He wanted to see Ethos, but that desire was likely an impossible one. The last thing he wanted to do was get him into any trouble.
"If you say so," she replied, although he sensed that she wasn't entirely convinced, as if she could still read him like a book.
Although he tried hard to stay awake, he could feel his eyelids falling closed again, the wave of tiredness washing over him. While he struggled against it, he couldn't find the surface to break back out again.
The last thing he remembered was her voice as she sung a soft melody to him, before he was pulled back into a deep sleep.
Walking back from the Warlock's masquerade party, Blake let the glamour of the mask wear off. It had been annoying to hold up, in any case. He was also looking forward to getting out of his attire, not preferring it to the more comfortable and functional clothes that he usually worse.
Bumping into Savannah there had been unexpected, and distracting as usual, although he still managed to get his job done. He had to admit that there was a small part of him that enjoyed keeping the full details of his work from her – knowing that she burned with curiosity over it. It was nice to have a secret up his sleeve – something that she didn't know, despite her usual large ego, and her bragging over all the information she often collected in the Towns.
While he hadn't indulged her when she'd fished for compliments, she had looked pretty in the deep purple dress and mask that she had worn. Despite the mask, he'd be able to pick those eyes and her hair anywhere, having memorised more than just those, in his times seeing her.
His thoughts went to the hotel that she'd mentioned to meet up in, in two night's time. Subtly, he pushed up the sleeve of his blazer – just enough to read what she'd written. A hotel and a room number – number twenty-two. He had not yet decided for sure whether he would go, refusing to be at her beck and call. She was much too confident, thinking that she could entice him in such a way. There was a part of him that undoubtedly wanted to go however – she had mentioned that she was going away because of work, and that meant he didn't know how long it would be until he saw her next – even if he'd rather die than admit it.
He remembered the last time she'd come to his place. He had only got a little bit of work done while she'd slept – finding her presence and her words much too distracting. He'd taken a short break from his work to move to peer into his room, able to make out some things despite the darkness. She appeared so much more peaceful and relaxed while she slept, and he was still surprised that she let her guard down like she did near him. Above the sheets, he could see her shoulder bared, since she hadn't yet put her shirt back on, her hair splayed out around her, and her breaths soft and in a steady rhythm. His breath caught – somehow, she was as beautiful as ever. He had quickly returned to his work afterwards, trying – unsuccessfully – to rid his head of that picture.
Making it to his door, he unlocked it, slipping inside and locking it behind him. Somehow, as much as he'd tried to talk himself out of it, and as much as he tried to deny it, he knew that he would go to that hotel in two night's time.
Listening to Ethos playing the piccolo was one of Kellan's favourite pastimes. If he was allowed to, he could've sat there for hours, getting lost in the sound. Ethos sat cross-legged, his fingers deftly moving to construct the different notes, the sound sweetly ringing out in the fields.
Kellan sat with his back leaning against a tree as he listened, enjoying the sun shining on him, where it managed to get through past the leaves. But it was not only the music that drew his attention. While Ethos concentrated on playing, Kellan's gaze was free to stare.
His lips were shaped to blow air into the instrument, and he remembered what it was like to kiss them. His eyes were clear and kind, focusing carefully, and he wondered what it would be like to be caught in his stare. His fingers were slender and long, and he wished they were pressed against his skin in the same fervour in which he played his instrument. Such thoughts were dangerous and forbidden, but he did not think that love knew such bounds.
Mostly, he couldn't believe that no one else had noticed Ethos before. Of course, most likely didn't look past his impure blood and his lack of status. But Kellan couldn't believe that would stop them. When Ethos was one of the most beautiful and elegant and kind and wise faeries he had known. There were not enough words to describe him, even.
It took a moment, before Kellan realised he had stopped playing, his gaze meeting Kellan's. "Is something wrong?" Ethos asked, and Kellan was a little embarrassed to have been caught staring.
"No, nothing's wrong," he replied quickly. In fact, everything felt right. "Sorry. I just got a little lost in my thoughts." He gave a warm, apologetic smile.
"Music can do that sometimes – it can make us think," Ethos replied, dipping his head. "I only hope I have not bored you."
Kellan couldn't stop a slight laugh. "Bored me?" he repeated, quickly shaking his head. "Never. I could happily listen all day."
Ethos seemed to pause at the praise, as if he was not used to it. "You are too kind," he said finally, his voice calm and collected. "I am glad if you enjoy it, even if I am not a professional."
"Why would I need a professional, when I already have you?" Kellan replied lightly. He shifted to lie down, moving so that his head was resting against Ethos's leg. "Please, don't let me stop you from playing."
If Ethos was uncomfortable by the gesture, he hid it well, only a slight blush colouring his cheeks. "I will continue, if that is what you wish," he said, raising the piccolo to his lips again and starting on a new song.
There was something nice about being close to him, and Kellan let himself simply enjoy the moment, all thoughts of his responsibilities pushed from his head for the time being.