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Living in Mordred Manor is—different than what Aelwyn is used to. For one, when Jawbone tells her "good morning," he does so without a hint of veiled criticism or displeasure, like instead of a coded judgment on her choice of outfit or breakfast or the shine of her shoes, he's genuinely wishing her a good morning. It's a little disconcerting, at first—catches her by surprise sometimes like the trick step on the second-floor landing or the secret passage entrance that's keyed into one of the hallway light switches—but not unpleasantly so. Aelwyn usually rises before the rest of the house anyway, but no matter how early or bruised-blue the sky still is, there's Jawbone waiting at the kitchen table, glasses on and the paper open in front of him and a ready smile when she comes down the stairs.
"Good mornin', Aelwyn."
"Morning, Jawbone."
She usually takes her breakfast back up to her room, but she appreciates knowing that he's there.
—
Whether as a drug dealer, or as a bouncer, or as a high school guidance counselor, Jawbone's always had a knack for reading people. Saved his skin more than once, that sixth-sense feeling when the guy on the other end of a sale seemed a little too twitchy, when it turned out he'd had a magicked blade hidden up his sleeve or some evocation charm tucked away as a fake molar in the back of his mouth. Useful later, too, when it came to muscling someone away from the door of the Black Pit or asking a few more follow-up questions of some quiet sophomore who turned out to be struggling with depression. So Jawbone's always had a knack for reading people, which is why he looks at Aelwyn sometimes and feels worry prickling across his arms and the back of his neck, that sense of unease flaring up when he sees how she walks around the house like she's even less substantial than the genuine ghost kid living in their cemetery.
"Hey, kiddo," Jawbone says to her once when he finds her in the library, moving along the rows of bookshelves without reaching for a single one. "Look, I know it takes time to adjust to a new situation like this, and I don't mean to rush you along or nothin', but you do know how happy I am to have you here—how happy we all are to have you here, yeah?"
"I appreciate the sentiment, Jawbone, but it's alright." Aelwyn's tone is carefully unaffected, neutral, like a plate of unsalted fries. "I don't mean to impose on your hospitality much longer."
"You're movin' out?"
"It's nothing you've done—really, you've all been very welcoming—but I'm just not sure that I...belong, here." Aelwyn is still mostly turned away from him, but Jawbone hears how her voice dips a little at the end. "I have a feeling it'd be simpler for everyone if I found a new place to stay."
Fuck, this poor kid. "If you'd rather live somewhere else, I get that, and I'll help you browse listings or move furniture or co-sign the lease or whatever else you might need, but—look, if this is because you feel like you need to, I don't know, protect yourself from somethin' that's coming, or you're waitin' for the other shoe to drop or anything like that, I need you to know that ain't gonna happen. I ain't ever gonna kick you out or tell you that you don't belong here, understand? So long as you want it, however long that might be, you've got a home here. Trust me on that."
She pauses for a moment, but when she does speak, her voice is so frosty that Jawbone would swear it chills the whole damn room. "I was supposed to be able to trust my parents, wasn't I? I was their daughter, and even then they only loved me to a point."
Jawbone exhales, slow and heavy. "And that's a son of a bitch, kid, I won't lie to you on that. It's ten different kinds of unfair that you and Adaine grew up in the home that you did, with parents who saw the both of you as means to their own ends rather than carin' about you as their children." The set of her shoulders is so rigid that Jawbone could almost mistake her for something made of stone; fuck, what he wouldn't give to carry some of that weight for her. "But the thing about growing up is that you get to choose your own family, if you want. And while I ain't so presumptuous as to call myself 'family,' I am here for you, if ever you need me, and I promise you there ain't nothin' conditional about that." He clears his throat a little, drums his fingers against the doorframe. Aelwyn still hasn't said anything, but Jawbone hadn't really expected her to. "Anyway, we were talkin' about watching a movie tonight, if you wanted to join us. If not, no worries, but either way, I'll see you tomorrow morning?"
A beat, then Aelwyn gives a slight nod. Maybe she's been burned too many times for promises or notions of trust to mean anything, but gods above, Jawbone hopes that she heard him, that she can take any of his words to heart. She deserves better than tip-toeing around the world for fear that it's gonna rip the rug out from under her again.
—
"Okay, there's totally no pressure about this, but—" Tracker glances around the kitchen, voice dropping to a whisper, "—I was gonna go to the mall to get Jawbone a gift for Father's Day, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?"
Adaine blinks a few times over her cereal as the question registers. It's only been a few weeks since she and Jawbone signed the adoption papers, but heavens know that she's been thinking of him as a parent for far longer than that. Still, it's certainly not as if she's known him as long as Tracker has. "Are you sure? I'd hate to impose."
"Oh Galicaea, no, not imposing at all. I'd really love it if you came!" Tracker breaks into a wide grin and something warm turns over in Adaine's chest. Even without her divinatory abilities, she can tell there's a very real possibility of her tearing up in a happy, overwhelmed sort of way before the day is through. She smiles back at Tracker. "Then, yes, I'd like to very much."
"Awesome! I asked Gorgug to give me a ride, and I think Fig's coming along, too. Meet back down here in like twenty?"
"Sure, that sounds good." Adaine pauses, looks away for a moment as she pushes the last few pieces of cereal around the bowl. "Do you think—that is, would it be alright if I invite Aelwyn, too? I mean," she says quickly, "I don't know if she'd even be interested, but given everything that happened with our own father, it might be nice? Or it might be a horrible reminder, I'm not sure, but either way, I'd like for her to feel included."
"Yeah, of course," Tracker says. "I get that, and of course she's totally welcome. We can also go to Basrar's or something after, so it's not, like, only a Father's Day thing, if that's too weird for her."
"Thanks, I appreciate that."
Upstairs, Adaine finds Aelwyn sitting cross-legged on her bunk, idly turning the pages of a book. She glances up when Adaine opens the door, sees Adaine already wearing her shoes and jacket, then looks back down. "Are you going out?"
"To the mall, with Tracker and Fig and Gorgug. We're going to get—Father's Day gifts." Something in Aelwyn's jaw sets a little. This might have been a terrible idea.
"Mhm," Aelwyn says. "Have a nice time."
Adaine shifts her weight a little in the frame. Bad idea or no, it worries her to see how much time Aelwyn spends in their room, door closed like she's trying to keep the rest of the house at bay. Like even if she left behind the bubble at Calethriel, she's still living in one of her own design. Adaine works at widening her own smile. "Would you like to come with us?"
Aelwyn frowns. "Why would I? It's not like I've got anyone to celebrate, remember? Our father tried to kill me and then you murdered him. I've still got the scars to prove it."
"No, of course I remember, I just thought—" Adaine breaks off, wishing she'd seen a future where this conversation happened so she wouldn't feel quite so awkward about stumbling her way through it. "I don't know, I just thought you might like to come along? We were thinking about going to Basrar's after, and—"
"No, that's alright. Thank you, but I think I'll stay here. Go have fun with your friends."
Adaine chews on her lip, hand restless on the doorknob, but she knows Aelwyn well enough to know there's nothing else to be said, even if there's more she'd like to. But I don't want you to think of them as just my friends, she imagines saying as she descends the stairs. And I want you to stop feeling as if there's this invisible wall between you and everyone else in the house. I want you to see that they're willing to be your family, too, if you'll let them—that just because our mother and father are gone doesn't mean we have to spend the rest of our lives alone. There's so much that Adaine wants to tell her, but Aelwyn is stubborn, and resolved to seeing the world from her own particular vantage, and so even if Adaine had said all that she meant to, she knows there's nothing she can do to compel Aelwyn to hear her words, let alone believe them.
After the mall (and a successful purchase of some fancy loose leaf tea, a new oatmeal-colored cardigan, and a novelty mug that says Dad to the Bone with a drawing of a skeleton wearing sunglasses) the four of them settle in at a booth in Basrar's, Fig and Gorgug passing a set list back and forth across the table while Adaine and Tracker take the seats next to the window.
"You okay, Adaine?" Tracker asks, frowning a little. "You seemed a little low-key today, like there's something on your mind. If you're feeling weird about this at all, I totally understand—"
"No, no, it's nothing like that," Adaine says. "I love Jawbone, and I can't tell you how much it means to me that you invited me along, truly. It's just—I'm not sure what to do about Aelwyn."
"What do you mean?"
"I understand if asking her along today was too much, but regardless of the situation, she's always so guarded. She has been ever since we got back from the forest. I don't know how to help her understand that she doesn't have to be, anymore—that our parents are gone and she's somewhere safe now."
Tracker sips idly at her milkshake, brows drawn together. "I get that, but I'm not sure it's that simple for her. Not to say that it was simple or easy for you—" she says quickly, "I still can't imagine how difficult it was when your parents left—but even so, you had friends that you trusted and people you could turn to. I don't know if you ever felt like you were alone in that situation."
"You think Aelwyn feels alone?"
"I think Aelwyn knows that she has you, but I think Aelwyn also spent the past year in isolation, awake and in pain for every moment of it, only to be threatened and terrorized by Kalina and your parents as soon as she escaped, then nearly killed by your father as soon as she stood up for herself. I think she trusts Jawbone, a little, but I think she's also self-conscious of the fact that she's tried to kill your friends more than once, and is probably thinking that the only reason anyone puts up with her is because of you."
"But that's not—"
"No, no, of course it's not true, but you could understand that's how she might be thinking about things, and that it might make her a little more guarded as a result. On top of that, from what I know of your parents—or, knew, I guess—I think it's likely that Aelwyn grew up without ever really learning how to form meaningful friendships or relationships, and now she doesn't know how to, and probably wouldn't trust them even if she did." Tracker turns the cherry stem over in her fingers. "Then again, that's all mostly speculation, but it doesn't take knowing her long to get that she's still struggling with some shit."
Adaine frowns. "So what can I do?"
"As much as it sucks, I'm not sure there's anything you can do. I think Aelwyn needs to heal, and that, whatever that may mean for her, it's going to take time." Tracker shrugs. "Maybe just keep letting her know that you're there for her, and continue reaching out to her when you can."
When they get back to the house, Aelwyn is still up in their room—flipping through a different book, at least, but Adaine wouldn't be surprised if that's the only thing that's changed since she's been gone. When Aelwyn hears the bedroom door open, she looks up at Adaine curiously, marking her place in the book with her finger before letting it fall closed.
"It doesn't strike you as strange, at all?" Aelwyn asks after a moment. "Thinking of Jawbone as your father, I mean."
"Not particularly," Adaine says, settling herself on the floor as she starts wrapping the mug and tea in a square of recycled newspaper, positioning a Sunday comic strip across the front. "A father is supposed to look after you, right? To care for you, and to love you, and to support you. Gods know that Jawbone has done more of that for me than our own father ever did."
"Yes, but by that measure, you could be considered a father to me."
Adaine laughs a little. "I'm your sister, it doesn't count."
"But otherwise, it's as simple as that?" Aelwyn asks. "You find someone who cares about you and they become part of your family?"
"Or one of your friends. Either way, those are the sort of people you want to keep in your life, right?"
Aelwyn makes a small mhm noise in response. "I suppose."
"Understand, though, it's not like it felt so simple for me at the start, either. But I needed a place to stay when you all left Solace, and Jawbone was there for me, and, unlike our own parents, I've never doubted that his support is an unconditional thing. I know that he loves me, and I know that he cares for me, and I trust him to look after me, and so why shouldn't I think of him as a father?" Another mhm noise. Adaine pauses where she'd been taping the newspaper into place. "If it helps, you don't have to feel guilty for letting go of them."
"What?"
"Our parents. I know that your relationship with them was more—complicated than mine, but you're still allowed to look at the bad that they've done and decide you don't want any part of it. You don't owe them anything. I know it can be a strange and difficult thing, to feel as if you're turning your back on the people who raised you, but given that they did such a shit job of it, there's nothing wrong with deciding you'd rather leave them in the past." She looks at Aelwyn, doing her best to seem steady and reassuring. "For what it's worth, it feels rather freeing."
Aelwyn chews at the inside of her cheek, then flips her book back open. There's a slight furrow in her brow, and it doesn't seem as if her eyes are actually moving across the page, but Adaine decides not to push it any farther.
"Your fold across the top is uneven," Aelwyn says after a while, and that's the last word on the matter for the moment.
—
When she hears the knock on her door, the last person Tracker expects to see is Aelwyn.
"Oh, hey!" Tracker says, smiling wide, if a little uncertain. "I haven't seen Adaine, if you were looking for her. I think she and Kristen are hanging out with the others?"
"No, that's alright," Aelwyn says, looking around the room like she's—nervous, almost. Uncertain. "I was actually hoping to talk to you, if you had a moment."
"Yeah, of course. What's up?" Tracker gestures for Aelwyn to come in and she does, leaning back against the edge of the desk, present but not quite settled. She shifts her weight a little, opens and closes her mouth a few times, but whether it's because she's not sure of what she wants to say, or she's worried about saying it, Tracker isn't sure.
"You know there's no pressure or anything, right?" Tracker says. "We don't have to chat now, if you don't want to. I'm usually around, and my door is always open." She pauses, considering. "I mean, sure, it is sometimes literally closed, but, you know—metaphorically always open."
Aelwyn's mouth twitches a little—not quite a smile, but not exactly not a smile, either. "I appreciate that. And, really, it's nothing that serious, I just—" she pauses, frowning like she's annoyed with herself. When she does speak, the words come out quicker than usual. "I was just curious about you and Kristen. How you got together, that is."
Tracker's eyebrows raise a little—okay, also not what she expected. "Yeah, for sure. What did you want to know?"
"I've heard how it happened—Kristen likes to tell the story often, which is fair, it is rather charming—but I guess I've always wondered about your side of it, how you knew that she'd be interested, I mean." She says it very casually, glances down to examine her nails in an unconcerned sort of way, but something about the whole situation strikes Tracker as having been at least somewhat planned. At the very least, she doesn't think it's a coincidence that Aelwyn waited until Adaine and Kristen were both out of the house.
"How did I know that she'd be interested in me, or how did I know that she'd be interested in girls?"
"The latter, I guess."
Tracker nods, smiling at the memory. "I mean, on the one hand, she was wearing a tie-dye t-shirt in the middle of a nightclub, which felt like a pretty good sign, but on the other?" She shrugs. "I didn't, really. I hoped that she was, but mostly I thought she was cute and decided to take a shot." Tracker tilts her head a little and does her best to channel Jawbone, trying to strike that conversational balance between curious and laidback, interested without being too pushy. "Was there someone you were thinking about asking out?"
Aelwyn's still looking at her nails, but Tracker would swear she sees the faintest hint of color steal into Aelwyn's cheeks. "No. Not really, anyway. I was just—" she cuts herself off; Tracker works to keep her expression very neutral. "I mean, maybe. I haven't really decided one way or the other, yet, I was just—you know, mulling it over." She looks up, sees Tracker watching her, and rolls her eyes. It's more amused than exasperated, though, which Tracker takes as a good sign. "It's nothing, really. She's just someone who works the front desk at the library—I've seen her there sometimes while studying to make up the year that I missed at Hudol. And it's not like I even know her that well, but she—well, she's very charming, and has all sorts of insightful opinions on the different schools of magic, and a very elaborate tattoo on her shoulder that I've only seen pieces of, and I do think I'd like to get to know her better if given the chance, but—" Aelwyn breaks off with a frustrated sigh. "But, gods, it all just feels so complicated now. Like I've lost my bearings, or some other equally inane metaphor about no longer having one's sense of direction. Last year, I wouldn't have thought twice about going up to her, and wouldn't have particularly cared if the answer was no or not." She laughs a little, but there's no humor in it. "As it turns out, spending a year in a state of constant magical exhaustion and confusion might have been more damaging than I'd initially have liked to admit."
Tracker gives her a careful, understanding smile; Galicaea above, she's not even remotely prepared to handle this. "Look, I can't imagine what you've been through, between Calethriel and Kalina and your parents, but you are still you, you know? Sure, maybe your confidence has taken a hit, maybe you don't have the same sense of certainty that you used to, but it's not like you've lost yourself altogether. Hell, no matter what happens, I don't think anything could stop you from being the mildly terrifying badass you are."
Aelwyn actually almost grins at that. "What, only mildly terrifying?"
Tracker laughs. "I didn't know if you'd take that as a compliment or not, but yeah, no, absolutely terrifying badass. Do you know how happy I am that I've never had to fight you? Because I am so happy that I've never had to fight you." As she talks, she notices that Aelwyn seems a little more relaxed, if still not totally at ease. Maybe not a full fire alarm, but the persistent beeping of one that needs its batteries changed. "Can I ask—in terms of talking to this girl, what is it you're really worried about? Is it that she's not interested in girls, or that she's not interested in you? Because—" Tracker says, quick, "—if it's the second, you know that doesn't really mean anything, right? People say no to being hit on for all sorts of reasons. It doesn't say anything about you as a person."
Aelwyn's almost-smile fades. "That's sweet, but come on, we both know that's not really true. If I were to ask her out, and she said no because she wasn't interested in me, of course that says something about who I am as a person. It says that I'm not worth being interested in."
Her tone is so matter-of-fact that it nearly breaks Tracker's heart. "No, no, come on, that's bullshit. We're not talking about whatever fucked-up relationship that you and Adaine had with your parents where they played all these mind games with you two to earn their affection and praise. Asking someone out has nothing to do with worth. Attraction is weird, and it's subjective, and while this girl sounds cool—and, hey, I do hope that it works out—you can't invest your sense of self-worth based on how she responds." Aelwyn still doesn't look convinced, so Tracker keeps going. "And if it is validation that you're looking for, fuck it, I'll give that to you. Hey, Aelwyn? You're fucking incredible, alright? You're brilliant, and you're unstoppable, and you're as close to a force of nature as anyone I've ever met. I'm telling you that for a fact, and fuck anyone or anything in your life that made you believe otherwise."
Aelwyn blinks a few times when Tracker finishes talking, quiet, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Tracker's worried that she overstepped, but then Aelwyn says, "Oh. I—thank you. That was very kind. To be clear, I wasn't fishing for that or anything, but, ah—thank you. I appreciate that."
Tracker waves a hand, relieved. "No, whatever, fish away. I will happily be a lake full of validating and complimentary fish whenever you need it. You've been through some shit, and if you ever need an objective, third-party observer to remind you that you are, in fact, still an absolute badass, you know where to find me."
Aelwyn smiles, and maybe it's wishful thinking on her part, or just her imagination, but Tracker would swear it's a little less guarded than before. Not quite enough to show her teeth, but getting closer.
(Three months later, Aelwyn brings a date over for dinner—a half-orc girl named Ankara with thick-rimmed glasses and an intricate runic tattoo across the front of her left shoulder. While they're making introductions, Ankara absently reaches for Aelwyn's hand, and when Aelwyn takes it without a flicker of hesitation or uncertainty, Tracker grins so wide it nearly hurts her cheeks.)
—
It's a year after she moves into Mordred Manor that Jawbone asks Aelwyn if she has some time to talk. For a moment, she's back in the Abernant home, hearing her father say the same thing as he opens the door of the study. For a moment, she's standing in front of his desk with her hands clasped behind her, staring resolutely at the pane of glass just behind his right ear, counting the dust motes as her father lectures her about her grades, or the sort of company she's keeping at Hudol, or the expectations he has for her future in Fallinel that don't include any sorts of emotional attachments to Solace. For a moment, she's digging her nails into her palms and counting the passing seconds and breathing as steadily as she can manage and—
Except this isn't the Abernant home, and Jawbone isn't her father. Angwyn would order where Jawbone requests, would berate and condescend where Jawbone starts a conversation. When her father would smile at her, it was usually in anticipation of a demand or hiding the venom that was waiting on his tongue; Jawbone smiles at her without expectation, without need, offering comfort like a hand on her shoulder or the warmth of one of his cardigans with its twice-mended elbow patches and the persistent smell of Earl Gray tea.
"Of course," Aelwyn says to him, sliding her feet from the bed to the floor. "Is everything alright?"
He must hear some of the tension in her voice, because he waves a hand. "Don't worry, kiddo, it's nothin' serious. Or, nothing bad, is maybe a better way of puttin' it."
"So it is serious, but I shouldn't worry?" Aelwyn raises an eyebrow; Jawbone smiles back at her, familiar and surprisingly reassuring.
"Something like that." He takes a seat at her desk chair (backwards, arms folded across the top, which is the only way that Aelwyn has ever seen him sit in a chair.) "I've been talkin' with Tracker and Adaine, and as far as we're all concerned, you've been a part of the family for some time—not to suggest that you and Adaine weren't already family—but I, uh, was wonderin' if you wanted to make it official? I'd like to adopt you, is what I'm saying, and I wanted to know if that was somethin' you had any interest in." Aelwyn swallows. She wonders if she's suffering some sort of medical episode, because her heart feels as if it's beating very quickly. Jawbone continues. "Obviously you don't have to answer right away or nothin'—I know this is a big decision, and you are already an adult, so I understand if this ain't something that you want. But, if you are interested, I'd be genuinely blessed to be your legal guardian."
Aelwyn is holding herself very still, like if she moves too quickly, reacts too strongly, the offer will disappear as easily as chalk wiped from a blackboard. She does want this, maybe more than she'd realized, but she has no interest in being pitied, either. "I appreciate that, Jawbone—really, I do—but I don't want you to feel as if this is something you need to do. Just because you adopted Adaine doesn't mean you have to do the same for me. It's alright, I'll be fine."
He looks confused at first, and then a little sad. "Ah, shit, Aelwyn, it's nothin' like that. This ain't—I don't know, sendin' a wedding gift to a couple you don't know all that well or writin' a thank-you note to a distant uncle; this ain't at all because I'm feeling obligation, or pressure. It's because I care about you, and I want you to have a family that lets you feel safe and supported, and because Tracker and I would be truly honored if we could offer that to you—Adaine too, obviously, but I figured that went without saying." He scratches at the back of his neck. "If you're not interested, of course I'll understand, but I don't want you sayin' no because you think you'll be doing me a favor. Either way, no pressure or nothin'. Take as much time as you need to decide, and whichever way you land, I'll be there for you."
Aelwyn knows what conditional love looks like—the love that her parents would hold just out of reach, would ask her and Adaine to jump and pull tricks for, to claw each other bloody for the scraps of their affection. She knows what that sort of love looks like—how trying to live off of it is like being stuck at sea and drinking saltwater—but it wasn't until being here with Jawbone and Adaine and Tracker and the rest, isn't until sitting in front of Jawbone now and hearing the sincerity of his words that she begins to truly understand how freeing this sort of love could be. She mourns a little for her younger self who spent so many years without it. Feels some measure of hope for her future self that she has a chance at it now. Aelwyn's always had a sense of when she's being lied to, and so here recognizes with a sense of certainty that Jawbone is telling her the truth.
"That's alright," she says. "I think I've already made up my mind." She looks down, the unfamiliar feel of a smile stretching across her face. "Yes, I would like it if you adopted me. In fact, I'd like that very much."
Jawbone grins at her, wide and welcoming. "Yeah?"
"Yes." She stands up from the bed and steps toward Jawbone before slowly wrapping her arms around him—a little cautious, a little unsure, then steadier as he hugs her close. His cardigan is soft under her hands, rich with the smell of spiced tea and the warmth of the manor, solid and comforting and a reminder of all the things she now thinks of as home.