Chapter Text
Kal had stumbled back to his room in the wee hours of the morning, drunk off of the golden, honeyed wines that had been served late into the evening. The nights were carefully designed, never to overwhelm, always to inspire. Their power was heightened in the cold and in the night of the Solstice, his father had said to him once when he was a young boy. That someday he would feel the power flowing through his veins and he would understand what invincibility felt like.
Kal certainly didn’t know what it was to be invincible, but he did know what it was to be hungover, and he most certainly knew what it was to be nervous. The garland that he would use to determine his first dance was already likely outside of his door, and the thought made his heart shoot into the pit of his stomach.
It would be strange to say he wanted it to be Viviane, he’d concluded. Viviane was a friend, Viviane deserved to dance with someone new. But then… his heart would leap up from the pit it had nestled in and whisper, Wouldn’t it be lovely if it were Viviane? And he couldn’t help but agree. Dancing with Viviane would be a treasure he decided, not that any time spent with her was in annoyance, or at least there hadn’t been annoyance since she’d been back.
Kal pulled his duvet over his head, partially to ignore the sun that streamed in through the window, but mostly to delay finding the garland, whether it was Viviane’s or not. He also didn’t want to move, moving meant tending to his needs, and moving meant the nausea that now laid siege in his belly would be dangerously close to winning the battle. After years of drinking with his sisters, he knew that if he lost this battle with his stomach this early in solstice it was all over. He could count himself out on the later days when they opened up his father’s treasured trove of distilled fruit spirits. He knew some of the Males liked to posture at each other like cats preparing to claw it out over territory and pretend they weren’t impressed by the spirits - but Kal had no qualms whatsoever drinking the cranberry liqueur that was made below the halls of Cynefin, the other stronghold of the Winter Court, nearly kissing the border of Autumn.
He needed to do it. He needed to stand up. If he stood up, he said to himself, there’s likely to be a late breakfast set out for all of the court that was up until sunrise, and if there was breakfast, there had to be bacon. If there was bacon, it was simply a crime not to rise and participate. He could do that. And if he happened to come across a certain box with a certain garland of someones then he could move about his day, and instead of thinking about how lovely Viviane had looked last night by the flame of the fir he could think about the war he was currently losing with his stomach.
Kal sighed. It was all in a day's work.
“All you really have to do, Kalias,” he huffed at himself, throwing the cover from his face, and flopping his arms to his sides, “is simply fall out of bed. Just slide out. That’s more than half of the work done.” He stared at the ceiling for a long hard second, at the troll’s face that Viviane had painted above his bed to torment him, telling him it was a sign from his soulmate.
Kal moved, it only took every ounce of strength he had. He was not winning the battle.
He slid himself out of bed, taking half of the blankets with him, wrapping the knitted blanket around his shoulders and head before daring to make his way into his bathing room.
All it took was one look in the mirror, and Kal knew tonight he would not be drinking. Not a single drop in fact. No one could convince him that any glass of wine could be worth looking as wretched as he looked now. He could almost hear Eira’s laugh if she saw him. He had half a mind to cross the hall to her rooms and lay on the divan — she was bound to call food up to her and he could spare himself the embarrassment of presenting himself to the others, or worse, heading for breakfast in private with his mother and father. But that would probably mean not seeing Viviane, which at the
moment outweighed the idea of sprawling on a divan.
Viviane, his pale face blanched of all color. There was most certainly a garland outside of his door, and there was a slim change his mother, or the Gods, or some other force of nature, had made it so that her’s was outside waiting for him. There was of course the very large chance that he had one of the garlands from the dozens of other females at the court. Still, there was a small part of him that hoped fate had left him the one she’d made outside of his room.
He strode across the room, pausing only momentarily at the handle before he accepted his fate. It’s only for the first dance he reminded himself. It didn’t mean that they were fated or doomed to marry the partners the garland gave them, it only meant that fate would smile upon the match.
Outside of his door was a small box, wrapped in golden paper, and stamped with a holly wax seal. My Son the tag read.
Kal lifted the box from the ground in near reverence and moved to place it on his writing desk. He lifted the lid and saw a garland tucked delicately in tissue paper, pink with grapefruit, bright with lemon and lime. He took a moment to admire the bright scents, before snatching the name card that was inside. Morrigan, of the Night Court.
Kal dropped the card and sat in the chair with a thump.
There were what felt like a thousand females at court this year, and Morrigan was not a bad one to be paired with. But Kal couldn’t help but feel a tinge of disappointment, like the knick of a knife at his chest. Morrigan was a friend of Eira and Melia, and he knew his mother had been helpful in pairing them up, better than the deadly silent girl he’d been paired with at the last solstice, she hadn’t bothered to hide her disappointment at being paired with him, nor did she care for small talk. They’d danced through their traditional obligation, and she hadn’t bothered to find him again. In a way he respected it. Many females, at the behest of their families, were flung on Kal like he was a prized animal to hunt. When he’d come of age, and no engagement had been announced, it had shocked the court, and spurred them into action, trying to win power or favor through their daughters, or occasionally sons.
It was to be expected. He couldn’t help but wonder who Viviane had been paired with, someone nice he hoped, who would bore her to tears and step on her toes, and promptly annoy her until she was bored to death and ready to dance with someone else. Perhaps he could be someone else.
He leaned back in the chair, and rubbed his throbbing temples. He’d gone from exhausted and pained to deeply annoyed in a matter of seconds, the remnants of his drinks from the night before weren’t helping - he felt slow, and hollow, and nearly dizzy trying to think. He decided it was only fair, or at least he told himself, to want to spend all the time he could with his friend before she had to leave again. It was fine that he was jealous of her time with some other strange male from gods only knows where, who was going to step on her toes and ruin her night, and truly he’d just have to be thrown out. Tossed out the window perhaps immediately, upon first glance even, before the strange male could gather her in her arms and whisk her off for a dazzling and romantic evening.
Kal had decided in the minutes since reading the card that he severely disliked the male who was holding Viviane’s garland at the moment. If he were a more cruel or bloodthirsty son, like Eris, he would send him from the court. But Kal was not, and he could not rouse himself beyond the annoyance and hurt that he felt at not holding Viviane’s garland in his hands.
Running his hands through his hair and across his face, finally he stood up and threw a robe of a deep velvet gray on over his rumpled sleeping clothes, and went to wash his face. He knew from experience in years past that he would look rough, but what Kal didn’t expect to see were patches of glitter sporadically decorating his face.
From the decorations, he realized. Garlands laden with glitter hung from the eaves and balconies of the ballroom, sending a glittering sheen over the room all night. Also causing him to look like he had trotted through a storm of sparkles.
Kal sighed and grabbed the vial with the wash Melia had given him for his birthday, because she had said, “Your complexion doesn’t look lordly enough”, and she had been right. The magical liquid in the vial drank the dark pools from beneath his eyes and left him looking refreshed and nearly glowing.
It all made him feel slightly more put together. He walked out, and stood, hip leaned against the door frame, looking at the garland with considered annoyance. Not at Morrigan, he understood, but at life rather, and perhaps most of all annoyance at himself for caring whose garland he had. It was tradition, not the end of the world, he soothed himself.
Finally, when he realized that staring at the garland, willing it to change would do nothing, he slipped on a pair of slippers, and walked out of his door, and towards the wafting smell of bacon.
___
There were many interesting informal traditions of the mornings during Solstice. One was that you would always catch friends and foe alike slipping between the rooms they’d slept in and the rooms they had been assigned to. The looks of abject horror as people wandered the stone floors trying to find the place they were supposed to have been. The second, and maybe the worst thing, was the hangovers that came from the liquor. And the wine. And the champagne, and the fasting on the odd days leading up to the final and grand celebrations. It left Kal with a headache, and a stomach so tender he never knew if he was going to make it through the day. In years past, he’d either flung himself in the floor of his bathroom waiting to die, or complained alongside Eira, waiting for death to claim them both.
The final informal tradition was that everyone under the sun who was deemed kith or kin of the Winter Court was brought to stay at the palace. This meant constantly running into relatives, or the friends of relatives, or the relatives of friends, and having to recount the year past, and once more explain that No, he was not yet betrothed, and Yes, there would be an announcement if that ever occurred. In recent years, the questions had become so frequent he had considered creating a sign to wear around his neck explaining that there would be no wedding in their futures.
But among the traditions that were perhaps annoying or troublesome, there were very, very good things. Like the late breakfast that now lay before him, piled upon clean white china waiting to be devoured. In years past, especially when they were younger all three siblings would join their parents in their informal dining chamber to recount the ridiculousness of the night before, and the magic. But in recent years, they’d migrated to being amongst the guests at the later sprawling buffet meant to absorb the liquor left rolling in their bellies in time to fill them once more by the earlier and earlier sunset.
Kallias smiled to himself, and began covering the surface of a plate with eggs, and crusty bread, and bacon, moving through the room and weaving among the fair folk that looked about as good as he felt, trying to avoid conversation with all of his might.
There was one last thing he had to do, make a strong cup of tea to take to his room with him — to soothe the rawness of his throat, and the cotton of his tongue that water had not washed away. It was there, at the table that held displays of loose tea leaves and respective cotton silk pouches to steep them in, that he saw Morrigan across the room, huddled in an alcove at the window with Viviane, and his elder sister, looking oddly composed as they sipped their cups of tea and coffee. Kal took one look and debated whether or not he should disturb them, and decided that rather he’d rather recount his night with Eira, who was nowhere to be seen.
As skillfully as he slipped in, he slipped out, tempted to winnow up to her room, but too cautious with his tea to risk it.
When he finally shuffled to Eira’s door, he knocked once with his hand, as he balanced the tea cup on the elbow of the arm that carted his food. Kal shuffled, turning the crystal knob and opening the door, to find an empty room and an empty, untouched bed.
He could only chuckle to himself as he wondered what male had snagged her attention the night before. With any luck, he thought, it would be the one that mother had paired her garland with. If luck with such things existed.
Kal closed the door behind him and made himself at home, sprawling across the fur rug in front of the fire that had burned down to embers. He set his bounty from breakfast out around him and took a moment to appreciate how beautiful it looked. She’d be back sooner or later, and would be ready to recount her escapades he knew with almost certainty.
It wasn’t long until there was a click, as the knob turned quickly and Eira rushed in, frown seeped into her face, and mascara on her cheeks, cloaked in the same gown as the night before, rumpled, and untied in the back.
“You should really lock your door while all these visitors are in the palace, anyone could come and snoop through your belongings,” he said, from his position in front of the fireplace.
“Oh, Kal,” she sniffled. “I wasn’t really expecting anyone,” she flashed him a small smile, “it’s still early.” She rubbed her sleeve against her face, where the mascara had dried, smearing it across her face.
Kal knew he could go two routes. One was the route of the possessive brother, demanding to know who had made her cry, the other was more sensible. “I have bacon,” he said, handing her a slice from his plate.
A look of relief washed across her face, and she crossed the room to sink down on the rug in front of him, taking both the bacon and the tea from his hand.
“Blegh! I don’t know how you take your tea so sweet, there’s enough sugar in there to kill. We can’t have a toothless lord, Kalias.” She chided, eyes glancing over her cup to assess him.
“On the contrary, I think a toothless High Lord would be rather disarming to our enemies. They wouldn’t have to worry about me biting a chunk out of their shoulder like Frode the Fearsome did. The real danger, would I gum them?”
A smile crossed her face at his joke. The crusts of mascara were flaking off of her cheeks, and landing on her dress like little flecks of black snow.
Kal cleared his throat, “I do have to ask, are you alright? There’s no male I need to send to the gallows is there?” He raised a brow to look at her frustration as she withdrew within herself once more.
“There’s no male you need to send to the gallows.” She studied the tea cup in her hand, “When did you become interested in sending anyone to the gallows, Kalias?”
Kal snatched the final piece of bacon from the plate, “Only when someone is foolish enough to try to wound the hearts of my sisters.” He sniffed, “Give me a name, and I’ll help you get father to give them the boot, permanently uninvited from our Solstice festivities.”
“No,” fear flashed across Eira’s face, as her eyebrows contracted in. “That’s not necessary, this time. Besides, I can wage my own warfare, brother. No need to save you poor, weak sisters.” She rolled her eyes at him, and walked to the bathing room, taking the half empty tea cup with her. Eira shut the door, and he heard the pipes begin to rattle as the shower turned on.
She’d either tell him or she wouldn’t. Eira was rarely secretive, but when she was he found it best not to pry in her business, she would tell him when she wanted to. That knowledge didn’t stop the morbid curiosity at who she’d been with, or why she’d come back tear stained.
Kal finished what was left of his breakfast, and started to revive. Time was helping the alcohol to leave his system, and being alone gave him the time to think. Morrigan’s garland. He’d have to tell Eira, obviously. Mor was her friend, she’d have to know. And hopefully by tonight whatever male had wounded Eira’s heart would be long forgotten as she met with the one who had her garland.
Garlands, garlands, garlands. Stupid garlands. For a moment he toyed with the idea of ending the tradition when he became High Lord, but that was centuries away, and he suspected he’d forget before then. With a sigh, he laid on his back, and stared at the ceiling, where Eira had had Melia paint her scenes from all the courts. There were the deepest blackest of skies dotted with stars for the Night Court, and leaves tumbling down from Autumn. As for their court Melia has settled on a foggy gray, one that didn’t immediately scream of beauty or splendor as the other courts images might. But Melia knew that Eira would understand why she’d chosen this, the Winter Court was a hard place to survive, an even harder place to live happily, and those who did relished the fog and the dangerous beauty that surrounded them. The fog was a cloak around their shoulders, keeping outsiders out and away, and shrouding those within who understand how to live with her mists.
The showers creaked off. It was too early in the day to be poetic, he reminded himself, and rolled over until he was facing the last embers of the fire, nearly burned out.
Minutes later Eira emerged, brushing her hair, with a more composed look on her face. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying, and her cheeks were flushed pink from scrubbing off the trails of mascara that had danced down her face.
“So,” she asked, sitting on the divan, and combing roughly through her hair, “who’s garland did you get?”
Kal flopped back onto his back. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, of course I want to know. I need to prepare in case it’s a power hungry female who’s going to trail Mel and I across the court for the next year trying to weasel her way into courting you.”
Kal chuckled, “I think we’re safe from that,” and after a beat he said, “It’s your friend, Morrigan.”
The brush halted in her hands. “That’s… fantastic!” Eira’s eyes lit up, “Oh my Gods, mother must have been pleased with herself when she placed Mor’s at your door, sneaky sneaky.” Eira stood, and walked to her mirror, where she finished untangling her hair.
“It really is a shame she’s engaged to that absolute elk’s ass from Autumn. I’d much rather gain her as a sister here, than an ally in their court.”
“Oh would you?” Kal asked, incredulously, “Are you marrying me off now?”
“Not exactly, though I think everyone would be rather pleased if you could woo Mor, she despises the elk’s ass.”
“His name is Eris.”
“I know what his name is, if he wanted to be referred to by his name he shouldn’t act like an elk’s ass all the time,” Eira huffed, shooting him an annoyed look
“If I made a move on Eris’ fiance, he’d come for my head,” Kal tried to reason.
“Good, if he came for your head then we could take his. There’s a lovely post on the gate that would look dazzling with his head spiked on it. I have no patience for males who think they possess females without showing them a moment’s interest or kindness.” Eira dropped her comb loudly on the vanity, and threw herself on her bed.
“It’s not that she’s not beautiful, you know. There just doesn’t seem to be any reason for me to find an interest in anyone when mother and father are going to have the final say in who my wife is going to be.” Kal had often thought of this, especially when the daughters and sons of the courtiers were pursuing him heavily. There was no use finding an interest in any of them when marriages were so often made to secure alliances between the courts, his parents had been, and he expected nothing different for himself.
“You’re right. But Eris can still kiss my ass.”
“I don’t think you’d want him anywhere near your ass. Last time we saw him I distinctly remember he smelled like a wet badger.”
A cackle escaped Eira’s lips, “He did, he did. I hadn’t remembered that. Maybe I should call him badger ass, is it more fitting?”
“No, no, elk’s ass has a certain flair to it. A cultural significance if you will.”
Eira made a noise of agreement, and without moving to look at him asked in a sing-songy voice, “So, how was your night with Viviane.”
“I thought we weren’t discussing our nights?” Kal deflected.
“No, we’re not discussing my night. Yours is still fair game.” She rolled over to look at him.
“Well, Viviane and I have just been reacquainted.”
“Oh,” Eira scoffed, “reacquainted you say? Mel and I had bets on whether you’d end up in her room or she in yours.”
“That’s preposterous, we’re old friends. It’s never been like that between us.”
“I don’t know about that, she’s been away quite some time.”
“I promise, if either of us were remotely interested, you’d be the first to know.” There was a tightness in his belly even as he said the words. He knew that his friendship with Viv was new once more,
the easiness of childhood perished as mistakes were made and as the years passed by. Maybe it was a blessing then, that his mother had spared them the match, so that they could enjoy the night fully without worrying about crossing boundaries.
“I’d better be,” she moved over to pull a long, silk, braided cord to call for a servant. “Want anything?”
“A tea, since you so rudely drank mine.”
She rolled her eyes, but pointedly ordered his tea, with three sugar cubes the way he liked.
The tea arrived, piping hot, and pure perfection. The more he drank, the more revived he felt.
“So, what are your plans for the day, before this evening,” he prodded.
“To sleep.”
“Didn’t get much sleep did you?”
Eira shot him a tempered look, “Not a wink,” she said with a smile.
Kal found himself laughing. “Fine, fine. Go to sleep, I should try to do the same.”
“You really should, you look like shit.”
“Ever the charmer, Eira.” Kal shook his head, and strolled to the door.
“Tonight’s going to be okay, Kal,” a serious look had crossed her face. “It’s supposed to be fun, we’re going to have fun. I know Mor’s garland must have thrown you off, but we’re going to dance, and drink, and eat all the pastries we can shove in our bodies, and it’s going to be a damn good time.”
“Do you really think so?” He looked at her sitting sullen on her bed, exhaustion crossing her face.
“I have decided it. It’s going to be the best Solstice yet.” She huffed, and settled into her bed. “Leave me now, I have sleep to catch up on.”
“Get some rest, Ei. I’ll see you later.” Kal gently closed the door behind him and walked the few feet to his own.
Tonight will be fun, he told himself. Not just bearable, fun. He glanced at the clock on the mantel. There was a lot to be done to recover from his hangover, and a limited time to do it in.
Yet still, there was time so sit and think. Too much time to think, he mused and ran his hand across his jaw. I need to shave, he thought, feeling the stubble scrape against the palm of his hand. He added that to the list of what he’d need to do before tonight, to present himself as a shining prince of his people.
He missed when Solstice was easy, when he and Viv were children making wishes on their tree, and sneaking in the halls to imitate the reels and waltzes they saw their parents performing. Finding hiding places to watch the swirls of dresses and the glows of the stars strung in garlands along the balconies, long past when they should have been in bed. Until the nanny found them, or their mothers, and they were carried to their bedrooms to sleep away the magic.
The magic was still there, but it wasn’t as easy to spot anymore, hiding amongst the tradition and the obligations that he had now since he was grown.
Instead of preparing himself for the night, Kal chose a book off his shelves, the leather lining dyed a deep black with the gilded imprint of mountains. Within were poems that would calm his mind and do worlds for preparing him for tonight.