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“Do I have something on my face?”
If Fig had been looking anywhere else in the room, she might have been startled by the sound of her girlfriend’s voice cutting through the silence that had enveloped the room for so long. However, Fig was not looking somewhere else. In fact, she’d spent the better half of the past ten minutes staring directly at Ayda, biting down on the corner of her lip to hold back the goofy smile that she was too embarrassed to let anyone other than Ayda see.
It had only been a handful of months since the days she’d spent tracking down the Crown of the Nightmare King over her spring break, but Ayda already looked older than the girl Fig had met in the Compass Points library. The dark circles that Fig despaired to see shadowing her eyes had cleared up in the following months as Ayda managed to rest without the ruckus of living in a pirate city or being caught up in a quest and a new relationship. That wasn’t to say that her nights were completely peaceful, but Fig quickly became attuned to when her girlfriends’ dreams were taking an uneasy turn.
(Of course, if Sandra Lynn was asking, that was only from Ayda telling her about them. Ayda definitely didn’t make use of the passage from Compass Points to Mordred Manor after she had gone to bed. Ha. What an insane thought, right?)
“Hm? Oh. No. Nothing like that.”
“Then is there a reason you’re staring?”
Fig leaned up from where she was slumped against the wall and reached across the bed to place a hand over the page Ayda was reading, gesturing for her to save her page. As Ayda did, she positioned herself between the other’s knees, tangling their legs together as she brushed a hand over the lower half of Ayda’s legs.
“Maybe…” Fig replied with a knowing smile.
“Are you expecting me to guess?” Fig’s eyes lit up at the prospect and Ayda let out a heavy sigh in response. “Fig, I think the things that the depths of your mind come up with are endlessly interesting, but I could never claim to predict them. What’s wrong?”
“Iwantyoutocometopromwithme!”
Ayda blinked. “Pardon?”
“Prom!” Her grip tightened slightly on Ayda’s leg. “I want you to come with me. To prom. Us.”
“I wasn’t aware that was something you’re interested in doing, considering the stories you’ve told me about the last time you went.”
Memories of last year’s prom flashed through her head; watching Ragh, eye blackened, swinging on his own friends, her friends falling around her, her own inability to help Adaine when she truly needed it, Fabian’s eye . She shook her head, averting her gaze from Ayda’s. Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts - she could go and find Jawbone later if she truly needed to.
“This time there isn’t going to be another murderous dragon there,” I hope. “And besides, it’ll be different. You’ll be there.”
The room was silent for a few moments and, out of the corner of her eye, Fig could see that Ayda hadn’t reacted to what she said. She kneeled back, untangling their legs, and began to dismiss the idea, pretending that she hadn’t even wanted to in the first place.
With one leg off the bed and an embarrassed flush creeping up from Fig’s neck, she felt a familiar warmth cover one of her hands and draw her back to where they were sitting. When she looked up, she saw that Ayda’s lips were parted, her hair fanning out in a flame more lively than usual.
“I would love to accompany you to prom, Fig.”
“Yeah?”
“More than anything.” Fig smiled, her cheeks flushing for entirely different reasons. “I would promise to ensure that this prom is better than your last one, but I suppose that’s not a very high bar.”
Fig settled back onto the bed, her back pressed against Ayda’s front as she felt welcome fingers tangle themselves in her hair, avoiding the horns, and a wing curl around her.
“You don’t have to do anything. Just be there, that’ll make it perfect.”
It was not going perfect.
“What happened to the suit you were wearing last prom?”
Fig recoiled. “Kristen, we killed a dragon in it. Please tell me you put what you were wearing then in the bin.”
Kristen rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off.
“ Girls !” It was a hushed whisper, but Fig had quickly become acquainted with what Aguefort Adventuring Academy’s only librarian sounded like when she was ready to throw her out. “This is a library . Settle down or leave.”
“ Hardly a girl,” Kristen muttered under her breath as the woman turned her back on them, followed by a trail of overcurious first years, but reached into her bag and pulled a book out nonetheless.
“What are you wearing?” Fig asked, leaning across the table so Kristen could hear.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I don’t know if I’m even going.”
“I thought Tracker was going to be back by then.”
“She is. I just… I don’t know if we’re there , you know? After everything that happened.” Kristen hadn’t told Fig everything she and Tracker had talked about in the days after the Nightmare Forest, in fact, she knew next to nothing about the days they’d spent cooped up in Kristen’s room at Mordred Manor. “There’s going to be a lot of people there and it’ll be really loud, won’t it? I’m trying to be more attentive.”
Fig decided not to push it. “Well, I think Mordred Manor will be empty that night, won’t it? You two could do something then, just please don’t burn the place down if you try to cook.”
“Oh, like you’re any better.”
Fig caught the librarian’s eye from across the room and looked down at her page, mumbling about how rock stars don’t actually do their homework and neither do true adventurers. She pushed her pen around the page, trying to trick herself into thinking that she would actually get some work done. As if.
“Do you still want to come shopping with me though?”
Kristen’s lips turned up into a smirk. “Is this you asking for fashion advice? You see, they all come around eventually.”
“You have an elaborate collection of different tie-dye shirts. You have a favourite . I’m definitely not asking for fashion advice.”
“Hey! Tracker likes the way I dress.” Fig held her arms up in defence, saying nothing. “I don’t know… I have class after lunch.”
She thought back to her friend’s timetable.
“Yeah, with Skrank . Come on, I’m doing you a favour here.”
There was a pause that Fig, quite frankly, thought was a little too long considering the overwhelming evidence for why they should leave that she’d presented before Kristen relented.
“What’s Ayda going to be wearing?”
Fig looked over. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters! Have you watched any movies? You two have to match.”
Fig wasn’t sure the last time she’d had to put this much thought into what she was wearing. Going alone last year made prom seem so much simpler than it apparently was and everyone just knew what they were doing in the movies. Even when she was going on stage to perform, Fig could just throw on whatever didn’t have Lola Embers physically blocking her entrance and her fans would eat it up, colour coordinated or not.
“Do we have to?” Fig knew that was a mistake before she’d even finished her question and, to stop Kristen citing the worryingly large collection of prom-centred movies she’d watched ever since leaving her parents’ house, quickly added, “Okay. Fine! I’ll text her.”
hey do you have a minute?
🧡 ayda 🧡: For you? More than one.
ugh.
don’t make me blush right now.
do you remember what we talked about the other night?
🧡 ayda 🧡: We’ve talked about many things on many nights.
🧡 ayda 🧡: Unless Sandra Lynn is reading over your shoulder. In which case, we’ve only ever used our crystals to communicate in the evenings.
🧡 ayda 🧡: That’s what I’m supposed to say, isn’t it?
perfect. but don’t worry, it’s just me and kristen.
about prom.
🧡 ayda 🧡: Oh. Yes. That’s not for another six days.
ok. cute that you remember the date.
do you know what you’re going to wear?
🧡 ayda 🧡: Is there some sort of traditional clothing? I wouldn’t know, I’ve only ever read about going to prom with someone.
“You and me both.” Fig muttered, ignoring Kristen’s weird look.
nah, nothing traditional. especially not at the academy. you should see what gorgug and zelda are wearing.
kristen said you’re supposed to match, is all
like, with the person you’re going with
🧡 ayda 🧡: I see.
🧡 ayda 🧡: Leviathan is not the best place to go for formal clothing, but I found a dressmaker after you invited me. Adaine has approved of it, but she told me that what you wear is supposed to be kept secret.
🧡 ayda 🧡: Is that not correct?
no, no. you don’t have to tell me.
hm.
what colour?
🧡 ayda 🧡: There’s some red in it.
red! okay, i can work with that.
thank you.
can’t wait to see you. 💕
🧡 ayda 🧡: I’ve been practising my dances.
ughhhh. don’t say that. i’ll just end up talking to you all day instead of actually shopping
okay. i’ve gotta go
see you this evening?
🧡 ayda 🧡: Of course. I’m looking forward to seeing Gilear again at dinner.
“Are you going to stop grinning at your phone in the middle of the street any time soon?”
Fig slid her phone into her back pocket, catching up to Kristen as she tried to suppress a smile.
“Please don’t make me remind you of what it was like when you and Tracker got together, Kristen Applebees. All I wonder if she’s flirting with me and is it too soon to ask to see her again for weeks !”
“At least I didn’t devote an entire album to her.”
“Ribbon dances are just as bad. Besides, I don’t know what you keep in that notebook under your pillow.”
Kristen shot the girl a glare. “And you never will. Stay out of it.”
Fig let Kristen guide her way through the stress of Elmville, half listening to the recap of the Owlbears’ most recent game that Kristen was giving and half thinking about whatever outfit Ayda had put together for Friday night. It was only when they arrived outside the familiar smell of The Gilded Coin that Fig tuned back into where they’d been walking to.
“Oh, no. No, no. Let’s walk past before she sees us.”
“She helped Adaine out.”
“She gave Adaine a magic jacket with a literal city in it, I just want a nice suit to take my girlfriend to prom in. No magic, no weird dresses with ham in it.”
“We might as well give it a shot.” Kristen gave her a look, eyebrows raised, as she pushed open the door. “Oh, no. It seems we’re already here.”
“Customers!”, came the shrill voice from inside the store. “Come in, come in. Mind your feet on the rug, that’s a vintage!” Madam Silvaine took one look at Fig and Ayda and clapped her hands together in delight. “Ah, yes! I remember the two of you. I knew you’d be back.”
“We’re looking for something for our prom night,” Kristen replied, ignoring the looks that Fig was shooting her. She sent a Message for Kristen to leave before Fig skateboarded away alone, but it was ignored.
“Prom, eh? I remember my own prom night…” There was a long moment of silence as Madam Silvaine’s eyes became unfocused, a slight curl to the corner of her lips. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes. The happy couple need something to wear.”
“Oh! I’m not - ”
“We’re not - ”
“Together! No, no. Not at all.”
“I have a girlfriend,” Fig added, the disgust in her voice only slightly giving way to the pride she had whenever Ayda came up in conversation. “A girlfriend who isn’t Kristen.”
“Not that I’m a bad girlfriend.” She turned back to Madam Silvaine, giving her a knowing look. “I’m working on my communication.”
“Right… well, my apologies for that. What can I get for you today? We have a lovely collection of dresses fresh in today!”
Fig did not need to be particularly perceptive to know that they were not, nor was anything else currently in the store, fresh in that day. She wrinkled up her nose.
“Just a suit. Something normal.”
“The girl she’s going with is wearing red.” Kristen looked over, focusing on the now faded streak of purple above Fig’s forehead. “Maybe we could do something with that? Oh, please let me dye it.”
Fig batted her hand away. “Just a normal suit for a normal prom night.”
“Maybe we’ll go with a red handkerchief in the pocket, hm? Nothing too obvious.” Madam Silvaine turned away from the pair, her eyes darting to different corners of the store. “Give me just one moment and I’ll be back, lovebirds.”
From the stacks of clothes that soon filmed her arms, Fig had a feeling her trip wasn’t going to be as simple as she’d hoped.
“Come on, Fig. You can do this. You’ve saved the world like… a fuck ton of times, you can do a tie.”
It was on her fourth attempt, with her self-motivation doing nothing to help her, that Fig realised she might need some help. Everything else was perfect - her suit fit perfectly (and it better had, considering the price she paid), Ayda’s flowers were ready on her desk and she’d promised herself there would be no skateboarding away that night unless Ayda was on it with her. Nothing was going to ruin prom this time. No house fires, no parents dying, nothing.
“Daughter,” came the call from the other room. “Young Ayda’s at the door for you.”
“Interesting that you would call me young when, if we’re taking into account my life and the lives of all other Ayda’s before me, I am decades older than you. Then again, can I count the lives of those I do not remember as mine?”
Fig smiled to herself, letting her frustration over the tie disappear. She called out that she’d only be a moment, asking Gilear to come and help her for a moment.
“Dad,” she began, moving to face the mirror in her bedroom, “Can you help me?”
Her hair - a red streak now running through it - was slicked back around her horns, meaning she couldn’t hide behind it without running the entire look she’d gone for. She brushed a hand down her suit jacket, straightening out the sleeves and readjusting the handkerchief that poked out of her right pocket.
Gilear came to stand behind her. “You look beautiful, Figueroth.” A hand rested on her shoulder and Fig smiled freely, warmth running through her. “I’ve never been more proud of you.”
“Not even when I saved the world?”
“I always knew you could save the world. I’m more proud that you’ve allowed yourself to be loved so deeply and by so many.” She watched as his eyes flicked towards her horns and then met the reflection of his gaze in the mirror. “As long as you remember that there’ll be none who love you more than me.”
Fig groaned, angling her body away from the mirror. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Quit that. You’ll ruin my makeup.”
“Daughter, I can see that you aren’t wearing any.”
“Whatever. Just… yeah. I love you too, dad.” She brushed her fingers underneath her eyelashes. “Now, ties. Do you know how to do one?”
He reached around Fig and took the two ends of the tie in his hands, crossed them over and paused, uncrossing them soon after. He huffed, dropped them and placed a hand on her shoulder, gesturing for her to turn around and face him.
“Ah, yes. It’s much harder than it looks to do on someone else, you know?”
Before Fig could turn around and look in the mirror once again, she felt him press a momentary kiss to her forehead before turning back around, saying that he’d entertain Ayda until she was ready.
The young adventurer turned rockstar took a deep breath and allowed herself one last look in the mirror. She gathered up the flowers in her arms and sent a silent prayer to anyone - truly anyone - who was listening to let her react like a normal person when she finally saw Ayda in the outfit she had been dropping hints about all week, before heading out into the living room she had slept in so long ago.
“Fig. You’re here. You look…” Fig looked up at Ayda who was avoiding her gaze. Instead, her eyes darted around various aspects of her clothing before settling on the flowers for a moment (the tips of her hair sparked up higher than they’d been a moment before) and then finally on her face once again. “I’m speechless.”
Fig wanted to scoff, to say that was putting it lightly , but she found that words were suddenly very difficult to form.
Ayda wore a long dress that fanned out at the bottom as the colour lightened into barely-there sparks of deep oranges, blending into the tips of her talons that the dress, trailing slightly off the group, allowed Fig to see. The top half clung close to her, bulging slightly around the muscular arms that Fig had spent an embarrassing amount of time staring at since they’d first met. It was a deep red, making the bright yellows and oranges of the wings out wide behind her look even more vibrant than it usually did under Fig’s careful inspection.
“You look,” like a goddess on fire , she thought, something to be worshipped. Someone call Kristen. “Really fucking cool.”
“You also look,” she cleared her throat and looked towards Gilear, “incredibly cool.”
Fig half heard Gilear clap his hands together and dismiss himself, wishing them both a good night, but she was yet to switch her attention from Ayda. The girl’s eyes had a dark lining surrounding them and Fig’s lips turned into a smile, hoping that her prayer had worked and that her cheeks hadn’t decided to match with Ayda in the worst way possible.
(They had.)
“I, uh, I got you these!” Fig walked over and placed the flowers in Ayda’s hands, taking the opportunity to also brush a hand over the back of her girlfriend’s. She smiled as Ayda reached out and gripped it in her own.
“They’re beautiful. I’ll treasure them forever. Perhaps Gentle Repose will work on them, I’m sure I could alter the spell to fit the situation.”
“You could. You’re a genius, remember?”
Ayda walked over to the cabinet underneath the sink to pull out a vase for the flowers. It warmed Fig’s heart to see the other girl walking around her home with so much ease and she couldn’t help but let her thoughts wander to how that might look for them in five years, or ten.
“You truly do look stunning, as you always do.”
“Says you . You’ll show me up in photos during awards season.” Not that Fig would mind.
“Why would I be at your awards season?”
Fig rolled her eyes as Ayda walked back over to her, grasping her hand in her own. “As if I’m collecting any sort of award without my girl by my side. Especially since you’re the inspiration for so many of our songs.”
That was something that had taken a while for things to come to terms with. She’d always loved the rockstar lifestyle and, hey, if she toured so often so she could hear people yelling her name appreciatively to make up for what she’d missed as a child, that was her own business. But ever since she began releasing music again after the extremely viral shrimp party videos, her name was hardly ever mentioned outside Lead Singer of Fig and the Cig Fig’s Mysterious New Lover.
And it wasn’t that she was ashamed of Ayda. How could she be? Ayda was everything Fig was too afraid to even want. She was a genius and the kindest person that Fig knew, not to mention the best kisser. And that was the problem. Ayda wasn’t someone she wanted to share with the rest of the world; their relationship was theirs . Outside of song, the world shouldn’t get to know how it feels to fall asleep in Ayda’s arms, a wing curled around her and the wizard’s heartbeat thumping steadily under Fig’s ear. The way Ayda gripped her hand and squeezed every so often, a small smile spreading across her face as Fig looked up questioningly, just to remind her that she was still there - that was hers . Ayda’s arms around her waist, lips on her neck. How her eyes focused each time someone presented a new problem to solve, something else to learn. That didn’t belong to the world.
“I just like hearing you sing.”
“I like singing for you.”
They’d been walking for a while now, the familiar streets surrounding Mordred Manor turning into more traditional residential scenes as Fig’s arm swung gently between them, pulling Ayda’s along with it.
“Okay, I have to ask. Are you wearing makeup?”
Ayda’s hand brushed against her cheek, as if to cover it. “Is that wrong? Adaine and I watched some videos on her crystal.”
“No, no.” She reached up for Ayda’s hand and took it in her own, squeezing gently. “You’re beautiful. You’re always beautiful.”
“I don’t know if I’ll wear it again, but it was fun to try. Adaine took me to all these stores to find the right colours - the video said that was important - and I still can’t believe how different the stores are here.”
“Yeah, well. Garthy said if you steal on Leviathan they cut your hand off, so...”
“They only said that to freak you out about taking customers’ drinks after what happened last time with Kristen. Besides, it’s only if you get caught stealing.”
Fig so desperately wanted to ask about all the things Ayda had taken and not got caught with, but she saw the blaring lights of the school coming into view. She had never expected Aguefort Adventuring Academy to be subtle with its decorations (she wasn’t sure if Arthur Aguefort even knew the meaning of the word, especially after a few family dinners with him), but they managed to go beyond what Fig had pictured. The main entrance, which once led into a parking lot, was now blanketed in rapidly changing lights leading into the main hall. Fig caught sight of Gorgug and Zelda entering at the other end of the parking lot, followed soon after by the rest of her adventuring party arm in arm. For some reason, Fig found herself checking to see if his axe was strapped to his back like the last time she’d seen him in a suit.
She stepped closer to Ayda. “Are you sure about this? You’ll tell me if it’s too loud in there, right? Or if the lights get too much, or… anything, really. I won’t be upset if we have to leave early.”
“I’ll tell you, Fig. That’s if you don’t notice first.” She placed a hand on Fig’s shoulder, taking advantage of the height distance between them. “Are you sure you want to go?”
“What? Ha. Of course I want to go. I asked you, didn’t I?”
“I’m aware of how seeing everything decorated as it was last year might bring up some painful memories for you. There’s nothing wrong with changing your mind.”
Painful memories. Like Kristen’s lifeless body or the way Fabian looked at Dayne Blayde as he cut into him or -
“I want to do this with you.” Fig ignored Ayda’s unconvinced looks, squeezing her hand. “I want to try .”
“Do you promise to tell me if you need a break? I know you like to be tough, but you never have to pretend around me.”
“I promise.”
Fig refused to let go of her girlfriend’s hand as they walked in, greeting Jawbone on the door. She was glad it was no longer tense between them after everything that had happened while travelling on spring break. It seemed like he was back on good terms with her mum, so Fig had let go of the guilt of the conflict she felt like she’d caused between them. When they walked in she heard, rather than saw, Fabian in the centre of the hall dancing in the centre of a circle that had gathered around him, Ragh yelling encouragement from the side. After a few moments he caught his eye, the other covered by an eyepatch which matched with his suit, and sent him a small smile, but waved him off when he gestured for her and Ayda to join them. She watched him try to mouth something to her, but didn’t get it on the first few tries. When she did, she let out a loud sigh, drawing Ayda’s attention.
“Is something wrong?”
“Don’t drink the punch. Your dad’s put alcohol in it.” Ever since returning home, Fig had realised she’d had enough of the stuff to last a lifetime.
“That is…” she seemed stunned into silence for a moment, “illegal, right? I grew up on a pirate island with very few laws, but that has to be illegal.”
As they moved closer to the front of the room, Fig noticed Ayda’s brow scrunch up and had to resist the urge to reach over and brush them away. Instead, she pulled her over to the corner of the room where the music was quieter and onto one of the bleachers. She swung a leg over Ayda’s, brushing a hand over the fabric of the dress.
“It’s like one of your concerts,” Ayda commented.
“People dance better at my concerts, thank you very much.” She gestured over to whatever Gorgug was doing. “We only accept the very best at the door.”
“Is there a test they have to pass? Who measures who passes and who fails?”
“Kidding.”
“Oh. Right.” All of a sudden, Ayda stood, looking down at Fig. “Well?”
“Well what?”
She thought she’d gotten good at pinning down each of her paramour’s looks, but this one left her puzzed.
“This is prom. People are expected to dance, are they not? In all the books I’ve read, people have danced. It seemed very meaningful.”
Ayda looked determined and, even if she hadn’t, Fig had no intentions to turn her down. She reached a hand out so Ayda could pull her up from the bleachers (her mind going momentarily blank at the reminder of how strong she was) and they moved over to the side of the dancefloor with Ayda stepping from side to side. Fig grinned at the sight, pulling Ayda closer to her and spinning her around, her dress fanning out around her in a flurry or oranges and reds.
Now, Fig had never pretended to be an enormously talented dancer. She sang, she played pretty much any instrument that she came across (with varying levels of success), she could keep a crowd’s attention through the most dreary of nights. But dancing? That was something she never had to be particularly talented at. And it showed. Ayda let out that clipped, bird-like laughter which had soon become one of Fig’s favourite sounds as she jumped about to a song that definitely didn’t require that much energy, but Fig didn’t mind.
How could she? She was at prom with her girlfriend who had an arm on her shoulder and whose smile was bright and earnest. Her friends were scattered around the room happy and safe . She danced through a handful of songs, only being pulled away from Ayda when her friends demanded their turn to see what the rockstar’s dancing skills were like.
(She’d delete the videos Fabian of her took later or threaten him with the ones she had of his and Riz’s matching blushes at the suggestion that they should dance.)
After Gorgug demanded her attention when their own music came through the school’s speakers and Kristen and Tracker had left, retiring back to Mordred Manor after making a short appearance, the music gradually morphed into something slower and Fig found herself back in Ayda’s arms. Ayda’s hands brushed a strand of hair out of her hair, the slicked back style she’d spent way too long on having completely abandoned her by then, and they were warmer than usual, heated by the lights that they were under and being so close to all of their friends.
“Are you having a good night? Living up to your books?”
“Those books did not even come close to how it feels to dance with the girl you love and her - and your own friends.”
“I did see Adaine and Gorgug stepping on your talons.”
“Yes. I have a feeling there will be various marks on the bottom of this dress by the end of the night.”
“You still look amazing.”
Ayda looked even more beautiful after hours of dancing, getting caught up in the music and her friend’s laughter instead of worrying about what she looked like or if she was doing the right thing like she’d said she wanted to so long ago now. Fig wanted to capture this moment, whether on her crystal or in lyrics, she wasn’t sure. She just knew that, no matter what happened in the future, she wanted this memory forever. But when Fig felt arms wrap around her neck as Ayda leant down so that they were the same height, their breath mingling, the thought disappeared.
“Thank you for inviting me, my paramour. I love you.”
“I love you too, Ayda.”