Chapter Text
The words swam like fish in a white sea.
“Give me something,” Erik said. “It can be anything, I don't care what it is. Just give me something to do.”
Eleven peered at him across the table. His hair was pulled back at the side and clipped there with a small, bronze flower. There was a smudge on his nose that might’ve been ink or might’ve been dirt, or might’ve been despair at how long this was taking. Erik was certainly feeling the despair; he wondered if his entire face was smudged, or if it was all in his eyes.
“We still have to get through another six scrolls,” Eleven said. “But I might need a break too -”
“I don't care,” Erik said, cutting across him before buttoning his mouth shut. “I mean, I care that you need a break, that’s not what I’m saying.” Eleven’s eyebrows took a swift hike upwards in amusement, but he carried on. “I don't care about the six scrolls. Honestly, if I see the word ‘decree’ one more time I’m going to set something on fire, and we’re in a very flammable place right now. There’s a reason I never became a lawyer, El.”
“Is it because you’re usually on the other side of the law?”
“That too. Let me tell you, I miss the other side of the law right now. It looks very shiny and appealing.”
Eleven shook his head indulgently, and stretched his arms over his head. There was an audible crack that echoed in the great hall; the Guard stationed nearby winced.
“I want to finish this scroll before I lose my place—”
“And the will to live.”
“—But you go ahead and get some air.” Eleven spread the scroll out over the table and yawned widely, showing all his teeth. “I’ll meet you for dinner, if you like?”
Erik leapt out of his chair and rounded the table, ruffling Eleven’s hair when he was near enough. The clip came loose in his hand, and he laughed at the noise Eleven made, whirling around in his seat.
“Finders keepers,” Erik said, backing towards the door with a victorious grin. “Dinner sounds great. You’re cooking.”
The castle staff would cook, which was precisely why Eleven rolled his eyes and tucked his hair behind his ear, but it was something they said.
“Go and bother some other jewelry,” Eleven said. “You’re a fiend.”
But he was grinning as he turned back to his scrolls, so Erik didn't take any offence. He did take the clip though, rubbing his thumb along the delicate metal work as he walked the halls, whistling lightly through his teeth. He snagged a couple of apples from one of the bowls sitting out on little trinket tables. Castles, he had discovered, were another world altogether. He’d known that, obviously. He had snuck into balls and dark chambers when he and Derk sleuthed their way through Erdrea, but there was a difference between breaking into somewhere and having the key to the Prince of Dundrasil’s fancy, gold-filled boudoir.
Erik pocketed one apple and bit into the other, relishing the harsh snap of waxy red skin. It tasted sour on his tongue, and he hummed as he rounded the corner, only to choke as he slammed straight into a wall.
“Erik,” said the wall stiffly. “May I offer any assistance?”
“Hendrik,” Erik choked out. “Not unless you know how to get half an apple out of my throat. Gimme a sec.”
Hendrik remained where he was, rigid and unmoving as he watched Erik battle with his own windpipe. One eyebrow twitched when Erik let out a hacking cough. When Erik could stand again, he wiped his mouth and regarded the rest of his apple with distrust, before offering Hendrik a sarcastic salute.
“Sorry ‘bout that.”
“I apologise for not being more aware of my surroundings,” Hendrik said. “Allow me to escort you somewhere, as part of my apology.”
Erik rolled his eyes.
“Were you headed for somewhere in particular?” Hendrik pressed.
And there it was. The pushing, niggling reminder that Erik was a thief and Hendrik didn't trust him. The subtle prod at the fact that he didn't belong here. Every time they bumped into each other, every time they crossed gazes, Erik was unkindly reminded of the truth of it all: This wasn’t his place.
“Just needed a break,” Erik said, trying not to grind his teeth. “We’ve been reading scrolls all day, but my eyes are falling out of my ears. El said to come and get him when dinner was ready.”
“Ah, well, I can manage that, I’m sure, if you had some place better to be. And I can still escort you.”
It wasn’t that they didn't get along, it was that they got along so much better when Eleven was there to act as a buffer. Erik didn't like doing it, because the fact of the matter was, Hendrik had spent most of the time that they’d known each other chasing Eleven down. Calling him Darkspawn, tracking him across Erdrea with a ruthless, tireless energy, and fighting him at every given opportunity. You didn't have to be a scholar to see why Erik didn't get on with the guy.
“What, afraid I’m gonna nick the first shiny thing I see?” The bronze hair clip seemed to burn through his tunic, searing his skin, but Erik remained stoic. “This might come as news to you, but I don't have to steal stuff. It’s a hobby, not a curse. Your precious little ornaments are safe from my grubby fingers.”
Hendrik seemed to get even more rigid, though how that was possible, he didn't know. “You say you never needed to steal, and yet you did. That says more about you than it does my assumptions.”
Scoffing, Erik moved around him and set off down the hall. He didn't know where he was going. All he had wanted was a break from the muggy lamplight and the endless reams of ink and parchment, but now he found the chandeliers and polished floors oppressive. He almost turned around. Better to be bored in Eleven’s company than listless without him.
A pair of heavy,warriors boots fell into step beside him.
“You said that you were without a destination,” Hendrik said. “I was gathering a small crew to head out to the Manglegrove. We received word of something treacherous at work in the trees, and the Princess requested that I investigate.”
“Something treacherous?”
“A beast, perhaps, or a person without morals. Something or someone that keeps the soldiers from returning to Heliodor.”
Erik chuckled, but there was very little humour in it. People went missing from Downtown Heliodor all the time, but nobody bothered to look for them. But he didn't say that. Eleven might not have been right there, but his disapproval was a weighty thing, and Erik could picture his soft, questioning eyes, his small disappointment whenever they fought.
“You find it funny?” Hendrik’s voice grew chilly.
“Not at all,” Erik said. “Were you inviting me along?”
Hendrik didn't pause in his stride, but Erik could feel his stare on the side of his face. He tipped an eyebrow in Hendrik’s direction, slowing down just to see if he would slow too. He didn't. He kept walking, past Erik, and towards the main stairs.
“Meet us by the doors in ten minutes, if you have nothing better to do.”
Hendrik’s cloak swished around the doors, and then he was gone. Erik stood with his hands in his pockets, touching the cool edge of metal briefly, before he sighed.
“Well, El did say to get some fresh air.”
*
It was some sort of plant. It had leaves and stems and all the usual business that adorned a plan, but the main attraction was the flower that sat front and center. It was nothing but a bud at first. Closed tightly, like a mouth around a bone, it did nothing but sway back and forth when Erik prodded it with the tips of his fingers. He should have known better by now. He should have known not to indulge his curiosity, not to touch things - regardless of how plain they looked on the outside. But it seemed like no matter how much Erik went through, no matter the quantity and frequency of lessons the universe shoved in his face, he never quite caught onto what he was being taught.
“Huh,” Erik said, as the bud dipped gently in his direction. “Looks kinda like the old Frostfire plants near home. Hey, Jade. Ever seen a plant like this?”
They were deep in the Manglegrove, and they had left their horses behind to trudge through the thick shrubs and sludge. It wasn’t a horde of soldiers that were accompanying Hendrik to find the mysterious beast, as they’d thought; instead, Jade had slapped them both on the shoulders when they arrived in the Entrance Hall, and told them to get a move on. Jade and Hendrik had overtaken him easily, their back-and-forth impossible to ignore, their feelings painfully obvious.
“Oi,” Erik said, when Jade didn't quite hear him, too busy watching Hendrik argue with some vines in the distance. “It’s like being with Eleven when he’s spotted someone in distress. C’mon, stop gawking and answer me.”
Jade finished biting into the crisp skin of her apple - stolen from Erik’s pocket - and turned at his question. Her dark hair was tied up differently today, swept away from her eyes. It left her expression in plain sight; Erik had a perfect view of the way her eyes widened in disbelief, before her mouth turned down in dismay.
“Erik, don't touch that - !”
But it was far too late.
The bud opened. Petals that should have only been an inch long unfurled like wings, arcing through the sky. They reminded him of waves. He thought of the ocean as he staggered back; a surprised shout fell from his lips, as the bud reared up. The petals were a dark shade of night.
“Princess, step back!”
It was Hendrik, charging out of the bushes and slicing at overreaching vines with his sword. Erik cursed as a petal reached for him, grasping at his wrist. It smoothed along his skin until the veins in his wrist turned an aching, deep blue. No matter how much he twisted and tugged, the petals wouldn’t come loose.
“What is this?” Erik snapped, tugging fruitlessly at his shackles.
Jade rushed towards him, only to be grabbed by Hendrik; they reached him at the same time, both of them skidding to a stop in the mud.
“Princess, you mustn't get too close,” Hendrik insisted. “We don't know what kind of flower that is.”
“We do, actually,” Jade said, freeing her arm from his grip. She turned to Erik then, a strange kind of intensity in her eyes. “Listen, Erik. That’s a Somnus flower. It isn’t deadly, but it is dangerous. I need you to keep incredibly still while I find the root, okay?”
Erik swallowed thickly. The entire stem had grown several more inches in the time she’d been speaking, and now the flower hovered over him like an Elysium bird, intent on turning him to charcoal. It was swaying again, but this time the motion seemed incredibly hypnotic, rather than harmless.
“I can keep still.”
Jade nodded sharply. “Good. Hendrik, move quietly, but quickly. Look for a vine closer to the ground, the same colour as the petals. Cutting it will immobilize the plant, and we can dig up the root.”
“Fine.” Hendrik sheathed his sword carefully, slowly. “So long as you keep your distance, Princess.”
The concern and the eye-rolling would have been worth making fun of, really, if Erik hadn’t been in mortal danger. The petals felt like gloves against his skin, like velvet-soft hands holding him tightly. He didn't pull on them, but it was a close thing.
“Just pretend that you’re in a nice cell, chained to the ground,” Erik muttered to himself. “It’s been a long day of thieving, you got sloppy, and some tin-head with ideas above his station slapped you in shackles. That’s it. That’s all. No murderous flowers, just Hendrik and his chains.”
Jade chuckled from where she kneeled near the flower. “Now, that sounds like an evening I could get behind.”
“Please, Jade, I’m suffering enough here.”
Hendrik made an irritable sound, and then his hair came into view behind the thick stem, followed by his red cheeks. Erik had never seen him look so flustered before, not even when Eleven brought up his reading-genre preferences in front of the party. Jade shot him a look from below, and winked.
Alright, so they were kinda good together. Cute, power-couple, and all that. That didn't make Erik feel any better about being ensnared by a flower.
“So, not that the flirting isn’t really fun to watch, or anything, but I don't suppose you’ve spotted that vine, have you? Only I’d like to get out of here at some point.”
“Shut up, Erik - oh. I think I’ve found it.”
Jade leaned forward, reaching for a small dagger concealed in her skirt, and Erik held his breath. There was a soft snick of metal, and then a rough, sawing sound.
“Damn, it’s tougher than I -”
The flower reared up again, and Jade fell back with a shout, clutching her wrist. The dagger fell to the floor as the stem twisted and writhed.
“Jade!”
“Princess!”
Hendrik barreled forward, but a petal snagged him by the boot, and he fell forward. Erik wrenched at his wrists and gulped back another shout, his pulse pounding in his throat, but his veins turned as dark as the vast, unsearchable sea.
The petals swarmed him.
*
In life, we see things, and we ask questions. Our eye finds a plant or an ant or a mountain, and it asks, ‘Where?’ We stumble upon a piece of inexplicably beautiful physics and we ask, ‘How?’ When we look up at the stars we make stories out of them, and then we pass the stories on and on and on until one day, children, everywhere, are looking up too, and asking, ‘Why? Why do we make stories out of stars?’
But in a dream, we do not question why the stars are full of stories. We are too busy building the sky.
*
“You can’t be serious.”
Erik heard the voice through a haze of cotton. He felt swamped by the stuff, as though someone went to the trouble of wrapping him up warmly in a hundred thick layers before sending him off to sleep. He cracked an eye open and glared at an oak beam stretching across his vision. Dust drifted down from the creases in the ceiling. Even his tongue felt thick and fuzzy, like cotton, like he’d been sleeping for a long time.
“It’s not like him to sleep in this late, though. I’m going to wake him.”
Too late, buddy. Erik yawned and forced himself into a sitting position, his shirt falling down over his shoulder. The bedroom was familiar in a distant sort of way, like how most Churches felt the same to him. There was that feeling, once the doors creaked open and the scent of dust and candle wax filled your lungs, that Erik always got in a Church, no matter which one it was. No matter whether he had been there before. It was something about the sound that filled such a hollow, vast space that sent his heart reeling and made his mind quiet.
Erik wasn’t even sure he believed in what people pray for there. But the feeling was real enough.
The door to the bedroom swung open as he pushed back the sheets. It didn't feel odd to look up and see Eleven standing there, but his heart stopped in his chest anyway. There was something different about this. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
“Rise and shine,” Eleven said, his eyes sparkling.
“It’s too early to use a man’s own words against him.”
Eleven laughed, leaning against the door-frame. “It’s past noon. Mum was too kind to wake you, but you missed breakfast. And I’m not kind.”
That didn't seem right. Eleven was the kindest person - you didn't get to be the … the…
“Erik?”
Erik blinked, and Eleven was there, pressing the pad of his thumb against Erik’s bottom lip. His eyes were soft and questioning.
“Huh,” Erik said. “This is your bed?”
Eleven frowned. “It’s our bed, idiot. Did you hit your head in the night, or is this a punishment for being home later than usual?”
That’s right. This was the bed they shared in Cobblestone, in Eleven’s childhood home, where Amber was letting them sleep while their own house was being built. And Eleven had gone to Heliodor to … to do something important. Erik frowned. To … fetch something?
“I promise I didn't mean to be gone so long,” Eleven said quietly.
He scratched his collarbone absently. Eleven’s eyes followed the movement.
“It’s okay,” Erik said, mouth curving up into a smile that felt a little wooden. Maybe he really had hit his head in the night. “I’ll forgive you, if you make me breakfast.”
“It’s closer to dinnertime.” But Eleven was laughing, and he brushed his thumb along Erik’s jaw before he pulled back, reaching for his hand. “Come on, I’ll see what I can find. But tomorrow, you’re cooking.”