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Students at Red Fountain get paired off well before they are assigned squads. It’s a matter of practicality, for the most part; each room houses two bunks, each desk two seats, each major craft two pilots. Timmy’s not sure how the pairing works – he suspects it’s something to do with magic, and maybe a bit of Earth psychology. And there is absolutely no way Brandon and Sky’s hadn’t been doctored, looking back on it.
But – right out of the gate, little baby Timmy fresh off the transport, accepted by the skin of his teeth, had been shoved at Riven and told good luck.
Their teachers had expected the two of them to get along like cats and dogs. Timmy had found transfer papers in his welcome packet; professors stopped him after class to inquire as to “how he was getting along” with thinly veiled frowns towards a nearby, lurking Riven, and, well.
Riven hadn’t made a great first impression. That had been intentional. But he waited after every class and before every meal, even if he had barely fucking talked to him. And Timmy’d been so furious over the coddling and filled with spite – how dare they think he’d be so unprofessional as to not work with someone just because they were an ass – he’d moved past it immediately.
And it had – well, it had worked in his favor. Riven is stuck with him now. He is stuck with Riven. Timmy wouldn’t have it any other way.
The other two had been entirely different beasts; Brandon and Sky had been a fucking monolith for much of their first semester. Didn’t matter that they were eating together and sleeping together and showering together and fighting together; the other two boys could slap on a smile and nod like any good bobblehead, but they would not open up. It had taken four near-death experiences – only one of which had been Stella’s fault – before the jackasses had finally started trusting the two of them.
Or – so Timmy had thought.
They’d all pulled themselves together in time to top their class at the end of first year. Timmy genuinely wonders if they’ll be able to do that again. If he even wants to.
If he has a choice.
The thing is; there aren’t any other squads that will take Riven. Oh, sure, the headmaster will reassign them if they ask, if they tell him what happened. Squads can’t function without the consent of their members. But Riven’s got a reputation, thanks in no small part to the way the faculty had treated him that first year. Timmy has a reputation as an asshole-wrangler, which he hates, but – even if they’re a packaged deal, that won’t be enough. And Riven won’t open back up to anyone else. Timmy doesn’t think he would, either.
So it’s necessity that drives him over to Brandon and Sky’s door. It’s necessity that lifts his hand and knocks, and it’s necessity that refrains from giving not-Sky a matching black eye when he yanks the door open. It’s necessity, he tells himself, and he’s a little too weak for that to be a complete truth.
“T—”
“Come on.” He says shortly, and turns on his heel. Riven’s standing by the door, looking pained, but all Timmy does is narrow his eyes and the idiot lets out a disgusted sound and follows.
He doesn’t want to have this conversation in the dorm, not where real-Sky could walk in. He doesn’t want to have it where they have lived and existed and befriended one another, where they will continue to work and live together, and Tecna had given him a neat little privacy ward so it’s all fine.
Once they exit the dorms, Riven jogs past him and takes the lead. Not-Sky doesn’t say anything, but Timmy can hear him trudging along behind him, and that’s – good.
This is what Timmy expects;
Sky’s a prince. The real sky. Not-Sky, probably Brandon but he doesn’t fucking know, is his bodyguard. Sworn servant. Protector. Presumably, friend.
But he’s still Sky’s subject. And Eraklyon above all other realms hold authority as the end-all be-all of civilization. Not-Sky couldn’t have said no if he’d wanted to. Not-Sky’s got to know that, on some level, because he’s been genuine about it, much less of an asshole than real-Sky. And – that gives Timmy hope, even if it’s a sour kind.
Riven leads them out into the woods down a well-worn running path, and then after about ten minutes fucks off straight into the undergrowth like he knows what he’s doing, and Timmy and not-Sky follow.
Riven’s an idiot, but he knows the area around Red Fountain like the back of his hand. He’d made a valiant attempt to make Timmy memorize the topography once too, which sounds horrible but was honestly a very sweet gesture on the part of a boy fearing having to flee at a moment’s notice, but the information had never stuck. Mostly because Riven likes being useful, and this is an easy give.
They pop out by the lake near Alfea after another good fifteen minutes of wincing and muted ows and you’d better not get us lost assholes. It’s a cute little scenic overlook of some sort; there’s a pretty bench reminiscent of wrought iron if it hadn’t been shaped of living roots, and a grassy area just big enough for a picnic around it.
“You got a romantic spot up your sleeve?” Not-Sky asks, and even if his voice shakes a little there’s genuine amusement in it.
“Meditation spot.” Riven corrects, and Timmy tracks the way Not-Sky flinches in surprise a little. Can all but hear Riven sneering you don’t know me either.
Timmy fishes Tecna’s ward out of his pocket, drops down to the grass in front of the bench, and balances it on his knee.
“I’m missing meeting my girlfriend’s all-powerful A.I. mom for this.” He says, staring down at that little chip of circuitry and magic, and –
“Not like the girls are gonna talk shit about you, Timmy.” Riven says. He almost sounds amused, and if Timmy could he’d smile, but…
“Probably for the best.” He mutters, and scrubs his hands over his face. Tecna’s telling her Mother about an act of war done against Zenith. He’s not sure that would be the best time to go hey, I’m dating your daughter.
And that’s – that’s a whole other thing to deal with, and not something he can ever tell not-Sky or real-Sky because, well.
Eraklyon and authority. If the King knows about it, both of them will enforce that silence before anything else. Stella only hasn’t because – Timmy’s not totally sure if it’s because she’s pissed at her parents or because the girls actually mean that much to her, but…he doesn’t think that the rest of them get she is committing treason.
And for the girls’ sake, Timmy and Riven can’t be caught. Because if the worst does happen – they’re going to have to help get the girls out.
Not-Sky and Riven take up positions at opposite ends of the bench. Riven looks perfectly stony about it all; not-Sky looks physically pained as he glances at the two of them and the sheer distance between them.
Timmy taps the ward like Tecna had told him to, and it unfolds into a hexagonal green sphere, buzzing pleasantly like static against his skin as it rises up and past him until the three of them are just barely enclosed in a field of magic.
Riven lets out a low whistle and starts waving his hand through it, because he is a literal child.
“I don’t know how long it will last.” Timmy says after a moment of silence, and he’s just – he has no idea where to begin.
“The fuck is your name?” Riven asks immediately, false cheer sharp like a blade in his voice, and not-Sky flinches.
“I don’t – “
“If you lie to us one more time we’re gone.” Timmy says dully.
Red Fountain won’t work out if they leave, but. Well.
Solaria has a school, and Stella’s got something that could politely be called a recommendation letter waiting for them, if they ask. Royal seal burnt onto molten sunlight and all. It would be inferior in every way, an insult to everything he and Riven have done to get here – but it’s an option.
Not-Sky flinches hard, and drops his gaze to the ground. Timmy stares past him when he catches the glint of tears, because he can’t – that’s beyond his capabilities.
“I can’t answer this for you.”
“I think the fuck you can.”
“If Sky finds out I told you – “
“Sky finding out you told us the truth is going to be the least of your worries if you keep lying to us.” Timmy says flatly, before Riven can say something that –
No, he’d just…kinda been threatening. But at least he’d hadn’t sworn about it.
“You’re asking me to betray Eraklyon!”
“Pretty sure your hunk of rock doesn’t actually give a shit if you tell you own fucking squad mates the truth.”
That stops every single thought in Timmy’s head.
Because.
Not-Sky goes ashen.
“You don’t get it.”
“That’s – “
“He’s talking about a homeworld, Riven.” Timmy says a little too sharply, and Riven freezes, half-risen and pissed.
Riven thinks its bullshit. Timmy mostly agrees, but there’s –
Oh.
“That’s it.” He says, breathes, and his heart fucking hurts as pure adrenaline slams its way through him and –
Now is not the time for this. But it’s – it’s connected, isn’t it, he thinks, he already knows, and –
“Riven, text Bloom that the difference is a homeworld before I give myself a fucking panic attack, and then turn your phone off.”
“Oh fuck, you don’t mean –“
“Don’t ask me questions about it when we have something else to focus on right now!”
Riven shoots him an incredulous look, and then jerks a little and swings all of his attention to not-Sky.
“What is going on?”
“I don’t know. Can’t trust you. Pick your rock and leave or stay and choose us, but make a fucking decision.” Riven snarls, snarls, and for a second he’s earned every wary look and distrustful sneer Red Fountain has ever given him.
Timmy wonders if Darcy noticed. If that’s why she likes him. If that’s why Bloom took one look at him and managed to ingratiate him in just over a month better than Timmy had ever been able to with Stella and the other fairies.
“I’ve never not chosen you!” Not-Sky snaps back, hurt and wounded and –
“You’re going to have to.” Timmy says softly.
Not-Sky looks at him hard, and nods.
X
His name, he says, is Brandon, which shouldn’t make things better but it does.
He starts with Eraklyon. Context, he says, but he elaborates when the two of them do nothing but watch and something in Timmy forgives and forgets immediately for that concession, because what Brandon, the real Brandon, tells them is – it’s enough to forfeit his own life, if his people ever find out.
Eraklyon produces very few fairies compared to the other realms. Those it does birth live and train on-world; they do not apply to schools like Alfea. There is a reason for that, he says, and he has to wait a moment to build up his nerve before he continues, and even if Riven scoffs at it – Timmy waits.
According to legend, the first people of Eraklyon were chaotic and disorganized. There was no order, and there was no peace, and where other worlds would weep to watch their children slaughter one another, Eraklyon grew furious and intervened.
A family was chosen. Brandon skims the how, but it’s all rather obvious – for their charisma and character and strength and integrity and every other quality a mythical savior must have. Eraklyon poured its strength into their bloodline, and gave them the sole right to rule the planet, and the sole responsibility of maintaining peace and order.
Riven interrupts here. So, fairies.
No. Something almost like a smile crosses Brandon’s face; this is a pushback he has heard a thousand times, Timmy thinks.
Eraklyon’s right to rule passes through the male heirs. There are so few Eraklyon fairies because of the Royal Family; because the planet must pour more of its strength into the men it chooses to lead it – gender a hallmark of their divine right – than into the women who would protect it and its people from harm.
Here, Timmy interrupts. Wheezes. Brandon doesn’t realize the significance of what he’s just said and it’s so wildly stupid that he almost asks Riven to turn his fucking phone back on and call Bloom because if –
But; he is getting beyond himself. I’m sorry your planet is so stupid, he says instead, and Brandon manages a weak smile.
When there are multiple heirs, he says, it is up to the planet itself to choose. Order of birth does not matter, not like it does in Solaria, or democratic consensus like in Harmonix.
He’s quiet for a minute. And then he swallows.
Sky has an uncle.
X
“He needs Sky alive.”
“But he’s a prince. He’s not king. I would assume Eraklyon chooses from all available heirs, not just a generation.”
“I don’t know the specifics. I just know that his uncle can’t produce heirs. The power flows through their bloodline – the ruler needs a blood heir.” Brandon says, hands up in surrender.
“Motherfucker tried to kidnap a kid.” Riven says flatly.
“Motherfucker did kidnap a kid.” Brandon corrects, and Timmy’s eyebrows raise. The smile that Brandon gives next is almost as feral as Riven, the half-unfocused look in his eye focused on some memory and not them. It makes it…slightly less disconcerting.
“His uncle was an asshole about it at the crowning ceremony. He’s been barred from the castle since His Highness took the throne. So – he’d never seen Sky before. And there’s a – there’s a group of us. Mostly the children of the staff or guard, but a couple of noble kids too. And Sky. Grew up together, played together, trained together – all that fun shit. Diaspro, Sky’s fiancée? She’s – they wouldn’t grant her leave. That’s why I ended up coming. She’s a fairy and all. But – anyway. Four of us are boys. Five then.”
Riven drops his head into his hands with a beautifully articulated curse, and Timmy takes a breath and holds it until he sees spots.
“This is so fucking stupid.”
“Fucking terrifying at the time, but – yeah.” Brandon huffs, and he’s quiet for a moment. Neither of them push.
“It was almost successful. I can say all I want about Sky’s uncle, but the weasel’s a charming bastard. And Sky’s dad is – weird. Does a good job with ruling a planet and all, but he’s – off. A good two-thirds of the guard and half the noble families went along with it. They gathered all us kids up. We were like – fourteen? Surrounded by the bodies of our family and friends, our instructor screaming because the fucker – Anyway. Asked which one of us was Sky and I stood up and Diaspro flipped. They knew she was the fiancée, so – they believed her.”
That she’d likely saved both their lives goes unsaid, and while Timmy hasn’t had a real opinion on the woman, she jumps a few steps in his estimate of her.
“…And you have to keep the charade up now, in case he tries again.”
“That’s fucking stupid. If he’s going to try again, it’d be easier to kill your bodyguard. Drop something in his fucking coffee and you’re good.” Riven snorts.
“I said the guy was charming, I didn’t say he was smart. Case in point; fucker grabbed me and figured the rest of us weren’t a threat.”
“So a bunch of highly trained toddlers freed the king and took back the castle.”
“No, you don’t – Eraklyon knows this shit. It watches. Diaspro got her winx at thirteen. She was out for two weeks after, with the amount of power Eraklyon gave her. And that shit’s permanent.”
Riven very calmly angles his entire body to face Brandon, and then scowls.
“Sky’s cheating on a girl who killed to save his pathetic ass. A girl who his whole fucking planet chose.”
“It’s not – “
“If she decided to go ditch his ass for someone halfway competent, what exactly would happen to her?” Riven asks, and for all his deceptive pleasantness there’s such a –
“You can call her later, Riven.” Timmy says, maybe a touch too loudly, but it snaps him out of it and that’s all he needs right now.
“Most of Eraklyon’s defensive forces have been wiped out. You can’t let the other realms know. And you fucked up and put your face to the name, which you need to keep up because he escaped and he’ll try again.” Timmy summarizes. Brandon’s smile is brittle.
“Gave him a scar to remember me by. But – yeah. If it were as simple as assassins, we’d have told you. And it’s – it’s good for him. You never knew him before, but – “
“And making you go through all that bullshit is somehow better?”
“I have a rock-solid sense of personal identity and possess some modicum of self-confidence.” Brandon says matter-of-factly back.
“You cannot seriously be blaming this on an identity crisis.”
“You can’t just –“
“Then why is Sky’s face on his magixpedia page?” Timmy asks loudly. There’s a pause, and –
He knows that expression. Timmy narrows his eyes and almost reflexively reaches for something sort-of soft to throw before he catches himself, remembers where they are and what they are doing and what has already been done.
It – hurts. That restraint.
“A Solarian tabloid posted it claiming to be him. After everything – I’d already made public appearances. So we. Figured it’d – he’d expect us to put a fake up, right? And it wasn’t like anybody outside the castle knew, so. Sky’s dad made the executive decision to leave it up.”
“This is like that Earth meme Bloom showed me.”
“Musa showed it to you.”
“Bloom showed Musa, I’m cutting out the middleman. It’s an inception.”
“You are absolutely using that wrong.”
“Well I’d call and prove you wrong but –“
Riven’s mouth snaps shut at about the same second Timmy tenses and Tecna’s ward lets out a chime and collapses back in on itself. Timmy reaches for it, but it’s so hot that he snatches his hand back and starts praying it doesn’t set the grass on fire. He doesn’t look at Brandon when he pushes himself up or closes the distance between them or drops down between him and Riven.
Brandon’s – staring at him.
“I’m – I know I haven’t said it yet. But I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to hurt you. Either of you.”
“You couldn’t have said no if you’d wanted to.” Riven says behind him, and he’s doing his stupidly serious voice again, totally devoid of any and all emotion, and Brandon bristles a little and –
“I think both of us can – work past this. If this – if anything like this never happens again. But I won’t forget that it happened in the first place.” Timmy tries to sound as diplomatic as possible. But that’s B- that’s all Sky’s job, not his.
Brandon’s eyes narrow in such clear suspicion that he almost squirms.
“You uh, power through all five stages of grief overnight or something?”
“Well that’s one way of putting it.” Riven snorts, and Timmy feels him get up and start wandering around behind him. Timmy forces a smile on his face. It doesn’t reach his eyes; it won’t.
“Bigger problems. Very big problems. Very bad problems.”
Brandon half-rises, and the expression of pure alarm on his face is –
Timmy stuffs whatever parts of him just shattered away for latter perusal because he can’t handle this. Couldn’t – he’s –
Brandon’s worried about them. Concerned. So – maybe. Maybe this will go alright.
“How you feel about committing what may or may not be treason?” Riven asks.
He sounds – tense. Still. But – it’s a branch, even if Brandon might not pick up on it.
“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours.”
“If you and B—Sky weren’t cheating scumbags, we could’ve been dealing with it instead!” Riven fires back, and Timmy’s played defense one too many times already. He lets it go, lets the ensuing catfight fly over his head, and pulls out his phone with one hand while he reaches out with his foot and drags the ward closer. It’s cool enough to tuck into his pocket, now.
Outside of a whole flurry of increasingly excited and angry texts from Bloom and a you fucking did this didn’t you text from Stella, all dated within the last fifteen minutes, there is a picture file from Tecna dated hours ago. Shortly after they’d left. When she’d been talking to her – to Mother.
Zenith doesn’t do obituaries. But it’s –
Eraklyon’s Royal Family is small. Down to three viable options now. But the power is hereditary and they’ve known that, why would they not have a massive family if they –
What if they had?
Riven’s got a particular way of grabbing him; fingers first until Timmy jumps under his touch and then the press of an entire palm against his shoulder. He hardly recognizes his partner’s head hovering in his peripherals until –
“Is that what I think it is?” He asks, and he hasn’t heard Riven sound like that since they were new to Red Fountain and –
“Nobody knows. But us, I mean. But if –“
“What’s wrong?” Brandon asks, and that’s –
Timmy swallows.
“You should call Stella.” Riven says suddenly, and the hand on his shoulder squeezes a little, and Timmy forces himself to breathe.
That’s – a good idea, actually.
“I – what?!”
Timmy holds out his phone on automatic, and stares until Brandon finally reaches forward and takes it.
“I…can use my own?”
“Sky blew up Bloom’s phone. She probably blocked you preemptively.” Timmy says immediately.
“…And if I talk to her you two will tell me what the fuck is going on?”
“She’ll tell you. Then we’ll…answer your questions.”
It hits Timmy then that this is -
This is turnabout, in some fucked up sense. Either Brandon will trust them and call and then ask them, or he won’t, and –
He’s been nothing but genuine and accommodating since Timmy first punched him damn near off a table. Timmy wants that to mean something. And it’s not wise to suddenly throw all of his anxiety and hope into this one tiny, insignificant gesture, but –
Slowly, Brandon nods, and dials.
“We’ll be back in the dorm.” Riven says, and Timmy stumbles as he’s pulled up.
He looks over his shoulder before they crash back into the undergrowth. Brandon’s looking after them, worried and still pale and so fucking tired –
“Maybe we shouldn’t.” He says softly, and for a brief second – Riven’s hand squeezes his. He’s two steps ahead a heartbeat later, doesn’t even glance over his shoulder.
“If we’re going to stick around, we’re going to do it right.” Riven says, and –
“No more secrets?” Timmy can’t help but ask, and he’s not trying to needle or hurt but Riven still pauses, still turns a little jerkily to look at him, and then tilts his head.
“You already know.”
“You’ve never told me.” He corrects. Riven’s expression relaxes into pure amusement.
“Sure. Once this is all handled.” Riven sighs.
“We’re halfway there.” Timmy says quietly. And Riven’s smile might flicker, might be tired, but he still lifts a fist.
Timmy indulges him just this once, and fist bumps him back.