Chapter Text
“I want a divorce!” The sudden, and very forceful proclamation came from just behind Elliot's head, making him jump.
“Shit! Fen! What the fuck?” He twisted to the side as ruby red liquid sloshed out of the pewter mug. “You almost spilled my very important cocktail all over these moderately important documents,” He gestured with his free hand at the the pile of parchments strew across the rough split log table that served as command center for High King Margo in Exile. A few drops of precious drink dribbled down the edge of his heavily embroidered cuff and onto the dirt floor. Eliot mournfully watched them disappear into a dark spot.
“We’re kinda dealing with some things here, Fen. ” Margo barely looked up from the hand drawn map she was studying. “Can you cool your heels?”
“No, I cannot -- and was that a foot related jest? Because I told both of you it’s not funny. No more twinkle toes. We discussed this.”
Eliot and Margo closed their eyes and sighed in perfect unison then dropped their scrolls back onto the heap. Margo pulled back a spare log from under the table and waved, half-graciously inviting Fen to sit. “Have a seat; let’s hear it. Divoce court is, apparently,” sigh, “in session.”
Fen took the offered log, sat down ramrod straight, placed her hands together, took a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”
“We got that twinkle-- I mean Fen,” Margo caught herself, but not without a dramatic eye roll. “I think we all know that you and El have not had a Disney-worthy happily ever after, but what’s all the fuss all of a sudden? I mean, it hasn’t stopped you from boning my sort of boyfriend.” Eliot shot her a warning glance and she shrugged. “Just to throw out an example.”
“Yeah, I thought we talked about this,” Eliot put a hand on Fen's shoulder, giving her a little squeeze. Margo’s expression softened a little at the the very real look of concern on his face. “I told you that you’re under no obligation to stay.”
“I’m not going anywhere. And I am under an obligation -- to Fillory and to High King Margo.”
“But not to me.”
“No, not to you.” Fen tuned to face him, clearly steeling herself. “Before I thought maybe we should stay together because we were a family. But Fray chose to stay in the past with, uh, her, um...”
“... with her bear friend” added Margo, helpfully. Eliot glared. “Which, we approve of, and support, of course!” She finished quickly.
“Yes, and you and I --” Fen floundered for a moment. “Well, technically we haven’t had sex in 304 years and we don’t even pretend to be together and I think we just need to end it. OK?”
“Yeah. I guess we don’t have to stay together for the kids anymore.” Eliot looked like he couldn’t decide if he was sad or relieved so decided to take a deep drink instead.
Charlton was suddenly elbowing him none too gently in the ribs, once again threatening his drink.
“Hey, what’s the big deal?”
“Don’t be cruel.” Chartelon admonished. “We both know you care. About her and your daughter.”
“She wasn’t really my daughter. You’ve probably seen the memories, you know that.”
“What does “really” mean? She looked up to you. You gave her guidance and approval. Isn’t that what all parents do for their children?”
“Ha. Not all parents.”
“Well, then whatever you were, for however long it lasted, you were a better father than your own.”
“That’s a pretty low bar, but thanks.”
"Wait a second,” Margo smacked the table, shocking Eliot out of his thoughts. “Did you say 304 years? Because I know you two were still occasionally going at it at least until the key quest kicked off.” Fen gave her a questioning look. “What? We’re close. I know when he’s banging someone. Anyway, that was what, six months ago?" Margo sat back, blinking. "Fuck me, a lot of shit has gone down in six months."
"Six months for you maybe," Josh said, pushing aside the tent door and sharing a meaningful look with Fen before continuing. "But it was over three years from when you were exiled until we got your-- I mean Eliot's-- letter."
"You two were on your own for three whole years?" Eliot asked.
"Well, not alone; we made plenty of good friends," Josh gestured beyond the tent's entrance as he helped himself to the makeshift bar balanced on a stump. "Most of these folks who came with us."
"But, yes." said Fen, "We were trying to manage things on our own for a long time."
Josh put a protective hand over Fen's as he sat down beside her. "We did ok for a while there. Even had some good parties. Always hoping you guys would be back any day, of course."
"Jesus, I didn't know," Eliot slumped back against his chair.
"You never asked," said Josh not bothering to disguise his disapproval with both of them.
"Well, we sure suck" said Margo.
"Look, there's been a lot going on," Eliot protested weakly.
"There's always a lot going on,” said Margo. “Doesn't mean we get a free pass to be self absorbed dicks."
“Thanks,” said Josh. “I appreciate the validation.” Margo searched his face for a hint of sarcasm but found none, which only made her feel worse.
“So, is divorce even a thing in Fillory?” Margo said, clearly changing the subject “I know the magical rules all went to hell when we literally killed god and also Eliot got thrown out, and then dethroned, and then possessed and then… well, at that point I kinda gave up keeping track.”
“Divorce is totally “a thing” in Fillory.” explained Fen, “Not that unusual for regular people, really, and now that you’re, well, not High King any more...”
“Oh my god, I’m ‘regular people’ now? Regular people are the worst.” Eliot took another deep drink and got up to refill his goblet.
“Look,” Fen followed him, “we just have to go to a Priestess of Ember and make our petition for divorce." She took Eliot's hand and touched his wedding ring. "And then these can finally come off."
“I suppose it’s some crazy talking animal?" Eliot pulled his hand away. "Let me guess, a platypus or capybara?”
“What? No. A capybara would never be a priestess of Ember.”
“Are we playing guess the talking animal?” asked Josh, “Cause I’m going with gecko. I have yet to meet a talking gecko.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Fen looked taken aback, “It’s nothing like that. I don’t know why you always assume everything in Fillory is going to be so bizarre.”
“Oh, OK.” Eliot looked somewhat shagrin. “Um, sorry? So what-- I mean-- who is this priestess?”
“She’s a statue.”
“A statue is going to give us a divorce?”
“A talking statue.”
“Ah…”
“All right, fine! She’s a talking statue of an octopus riding a lioness into battle.”
“Of course she is.” Eliot suspiciously eyed the liquor level in the carafe. “Nothing bizarre there,” he muttered. “Fillorian business as usual."
“And what’s the deal with this ‘petition’?” asked Margo, joining them around the bar stump. “‘Cause you may have noticed that everything in this whackass place comes with some sort of magical fine print.” Eliot filled her goblet and then topped off his own.
“Oh, nothing much” said Fen dismissively. “We just need to prove, beyond all reasonable doubt, that we have met our true soulmates. That’s all.”
“Soul-- ” began Margo.
“--Mate?” finished Eliot with a sigh. “Definitely going to need that refill.”
***
“So, how is this supposed to play out, Fen?” asked Margo as she poked idly at the fire pit that served as heater, stove, and gathering place for the camp. The sun had set a few moments ago, leaving a soft glow behind the tall trees. The cool night air was already making her nostalgic for her fur robes back at Whitespire, or a half decent Ikea comforter. Why did she never have time to pack properly for these things?
“Me and Eliot, we go in front of the priestess and declare ourselves to our soulmates and they must respond in kind. As far as I know, that’s all there is to it. There’s no obligation to marry that person or anything.”
Margo looked skeptical. “That seems suspiciously straightforward for a Fillorian ceremony. No catch? No fight to the death or mind bending riddles?”
“No catch that I know of,” said Fen. “Like I said, it really wasn’t a big deal for most people. We wouldn’t even have to bother with the priestess except that we were married in a royal ceremony.”
“OK. So, who’s going to soulmate up? I think it’s no secret that El and I go waaay back. If it’s really no strings attached, I think we have a damn good claim on the soulmate status.” She shot a look over her shoulder to where Eliot was staring out into the forest nursing his drink. “What do you think El?”
"So you’re back from rummaging around in my mind?” Eliot was asking Charlton . “You see every single memory. That's not horrifying at all."
"Of course,” Charlton sat down so he was back-to-back with Eliot. “There's some things I avoid. Your father, for example, wasn't terribly kind to you. I like the memories after you left home much better. And there's one place I can't get into for some reason. It looks lovely, but, sort of blurred? And it jumps around. Very strange. Did you stuffer a head injury perhaps?"
“Something like that,” said Eliot. Charlton , studied his face but, unusually, didn’t press for an explanation.
“--ELIOT.”
“Huh? What?”
“You? Me? Soulmates?”
He straightened up and, with some obvious effort, focused on Margo. “Absolutely, Bambi. You’re always the one for me.” He paused, “uh, sorry Fen. I didn’t mean....”
“No it’s fine. I was counting on you two.”
Eliot let out a sigh as Fen’s practical generosity once again managed to be both inspiring and totally depressing.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but can you think of someone for you?” Margo cut right to the point as usual. She was interrupted by Josh appearing out of the forest shadows with a large basket in one hand.
“Crostinis anyone?” He flipped the cover off the basket to reveal a stack of bread slices slathered in cheese in herbs. “I struck up a nice friendship with the baker in the nearby village and he’s letting me use his oven once he leaves for the day. Beautiful woodfire brick thing big enough to roast an ox. And he’s got this goat cheese that’s just to die for.” He stopped short by the edge of the firelight and, as always, quickly read the room. “Or maybe I should make us some drinks?”
“Yes, drinks” agreed Eliot, who had not stopped staring out into the woods despite the encroaching darkness.
“No more drinks,” said Margo. “You’ve been drinking since noon. And we have shit to work out.”
“Fine,” Eliot agreed mournfully. “But after we work out the shit…”
“Then you can have more drinks,” Margo put her arms around him and gently pulled the goblet away from his lips. “Soulmate,” she added with a light kiss to the cheek.
“It’s Josh,” Fen spit out, suddenly. “Josh is going to be my soul mate.”
“The what you say?” Margo pivoted away from Eliot, who almost stumbled at her sudden absence.
Josh put his crostini basket gently down on the table and made a placating motion. “Now, now, it’s not for real, of course. You and I have still not had a chance to talk about things but I can tell you that Fen and I have worked this out; it’s just for the divorce ceremony. Really, it’s no big deal -- like commiting green card fraud, right?”
“Since when is green card fraud is no big deal?”
“Like in that movie? With Gérard Depardieu? A classic! Am I right?”