Chapter Text
Amai considered himself a very practical man. Some people, due to some… regretful circumstances… may have called him Machiavellian, but he rejected that label. He was practical. Moral, but not sentimental. And if people saw just enough to think him callous, he’d already written off what they thought of him. Like his parents.
Amai could not say his parents had never loved him, because they performed all of the actions of loving parents. They raised him, supported him, certainly never abused him. But they were not close. To Amai’s remorse, he had been a… difficult child. Prone to outbursts, hard to manage. He’d grown out of that, learned how to hold himself to much higher standards, learned to value the correct and just things and present himself in the correct and acceptable way, but he felt he had somehow missed out on some essential bonding with his parents in that time as a young and volatile child.
Through his later teen years, Amai lived with his parents like roommates. Then he became an adult, and left, and never looked back. And there were no tears shed. It was easier that way. Practical.
And through his adult life, Amai found he was never particularly close to anyone. Oh, certainly many people – most people – liked him. He was charming, charismatic, and helpful, too. He had, not entirely unintentionally, found himself as the target of several admirers (of the kind that had only ever spoken to him once or twice), and even more love confessions (to which he never reciprocated nor took too seriously). He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy it. However, he was also a practical enough man to realize when the feelings of flattery should turn to concern. Like now, for instance.
There was a man watching him from the shadows of the empty street he walked down. Not just idly watching, but staring with an intense gaze that made Amai’s skin feel like it was being peeled back. Not just staring at him, but following him, never getting more than a block behind, though Amai never saw him move. He’d been there, somewhere in the dark along Amai’s walk home from work, for almost a week.
At first, Amai was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt that he did not realize how creepy his behaviour was (some people were just so socially dense, after all). And Amai knew how to take care of himself. But by the third night, with no luck identifying the stranger from amongst his many acquaintances, Amai was really considering calling the authorities to handle this professionally. That was, however, until Amai looked at him wrong. Amai couldn’t explain it, how it was wrong, but it just was. Out of the corner of his eye, though he always kept watch on the man out of the corner of his eye. Just a glance, though he never stared at him for more than a glance (Amai was not a rude man). But somehow, this time, the man was wrong. Inhuman. Bloody.
And Amai was a practical man and was not going to go to the police over a figment of his imagination, which is the only explanation for what he had seen (only for an instant, but more than a trick of the light). Amai was going to write the whole thing off, stop looking into the shadows, until he started seeing it in the day, too. Not the man, but the wrongness. Except now it was when he looked in the mirror.
Well, not looked directly in the mirror, but looked wrong. Caught a glance out of the corner of his eye. Not always, but sometimes. Now he was wrong. Dark eyes, not just the irises but the sclera, too. Long limbs. Too long. Too, too long and bending wrong and shaped unlike human limbs. And something iridescent and flickering into space where there should be nothing. And Amai, though practical, could not truthfully say that he was not a vain man as well. Even without having to catch a glimpse in so many reflective surfaces… he refused to start covering his mirrors over some trashy creep who didn’t have the good sense to not stalk someone and… and mess with their head with whatever psychological bullshit he was pulling! Amai was done playing nice.
It was the fifth night that Amai confronted the man. As soon as he felt that stare piercing through him from behind, he turned and purposefully walked to the man in the shadows. His hair was dark, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. Amai wished he could say that that was the tackiest thing about the man, but he also had a worn and wrinkled trench coat on over an outfit with far too many belts, so it was difficult to decide. And to top it all off, he was smoking. He had been every time Amai saw him. Amai hated it. Even the faintest smell of smoke had always stung his eyes and made him feel ill and he found the whole activity offensive on a personal level.
“Hey there,” the man said, as soon as Amai closed the gap between them. He was several inches shorter than Amai, a fact which Amai was going to use to the fullest capacity to intimidate the man.
“What did you do to me?” Amai asked, voice scathing. He was not going to play games. The stranger seemed to have other ideas and grinned.
“Me? I haven’t done anything to you,” he replied, tone lighthearted.
“Don’t lie to me,” Amai retorted. “You’ve been stalking me for days.” The mans face contorted in consideration.
“Watching isn’t really doing anything to a person, though,” he replied. “And I can’t lie to you.”
“Stalking,” Amai corrected. “And you must have done something to me. Ever since you started showing up, I’ve been…” Amai paused, unsure if he should continue, but the man simply raised an eyebrow. “Seeing things,” Amai finally finished, vaguely.
“What kinds of things?” the man asked, seeming genuinely curious.
“I… I don’t know,” Amai admitted. “Wrong things, nonsensical things. And it only started when you showed up and I need you to stop it. I can’t keep flinching every time I see my reflection, people are starting to think there’s something wrong with me!”
The stranger let out a low whistle. “So you really didn’t know, then?” he muttered. “I thought you were just deep in the closet, as it were.” He gave a cheeky grin.
“What. Are you talking about.” Amai said, cuttingly.
“You’re a faerie,” the stranger said through a smirk. He was having fun with this.
“Excuse you!” Amai exploded back at him. This man was out of line. Amai didn’t even feel bad for losing his cool. Not like anyone else was around to see it.
“Hey, it’s okay if you didn’t know,” the man said, placatingly. “It makes things a little more complicated, but I can still work with that.”
“If this is your idea of flirting, you need to know that you are dangerously off track,” Amai responded.
“Huh? Flirting?” The stranger cocked his head to the side for a moment, and then burst into laughter. “Haha, no. I mean usually, but not now. I need a favour from a faerie of the Seelie court. I thought you seemed like a diplomatic kind of guy and would hear me out. Not too invested in their politics. Didn’t realize that was because you were in the dark about the whole thing, but I can get you up to speed.”
“Whatever delusions you are living right now, I want no part in it,” Amai responded icily. “Just. Tell me what psychological trick you pulled or- or drug you slipped me to make me start seeing things so I can fix it and leave me alone before I get a restraining order.”
“Huh,” the man said. “You really never saw anything out of the corner of your eye before? I could tell you have a really strong glamour, but that’s impressive. And what are you, like 25?”
“Twenty-four,” Amai seethed reflexively.
“My bad,” the man said with an unapologetic grin. “Still, that’s an awfully long time to stay that solid. Whoever glamoured you wanted it to last. There must be some cracks by now, though…”
The stranger reached up with a finger extended towards Amai, just to the edge of his personal space, and pressed into something as his hand began to glow. Amai felt it, though it was several inches from his skin. Something gave, and then it cracked, and then everything around him fell away and he could feel.
It was disorientating. The air was colder. The colours were… different in ways he couldn’t really explain. There was something thrumming against him, in the direction of the strange man. Some kind of power. And there was something oppressive in the air. Like the very city was trying to choke him, burn him.
And. And there was something on his back. Something flickering and twitching. Amai hadn’t wanted to take his eyes off the stranger, but at the odd movement against his back, he reflexively looked over his shoulder. And. Screamed.
It was unbecoming. Amai tried to moderate his behaviour and emotions to societally accepted standards. Now was not the time for that. Not when there were translucent, veiny wings sprouting from his back. Not when he caught a glimpse of his arm and it was blue and orange and spiked and too long. Too long arm running into too long hand with too long fingers that curled with too many joints.
“What did you do to me?” Amai cried, for there really was no way to quell his panic at this point.
“Nothing to you,” the stranger replied, calmly. “Broke your glamour, though. It’s probably a good thing, too. Who knows how much longer it would’ve held out. Wouldn’t want this kind of thing happening in public, right?”
His words barely registered as Amai’s mind spiralled. He was having trouble breathing. He couldn’t think. He wanted to see if anything else had changed but he couldn’t bare the thought of touching himself with those vile, disgusting things his hands had become.
Finally, the stranger seemed to realize that Amai was not going to stop panicking any time soon.
“Whoa there, hold on,” he said and a low, calm voice. He gently reached out to grip Amai’s shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re just as you’ve always been. You’re going to be okay.”
“Fix. Me.” Amai said breathlessly, gripping the man’s sleeve where he held him and glaring into his eyes.
“You don’t need fixing, but I can help you put your glamour back,” the stranger said. “You need to calm down first, though. Okay?”
Amai glared.
“Alright, deep breaths,” the man said, and began an exaggerated inhale.
Amai hated being patronized to, but tried to follow along anyway, only to choke and cough as something stabbed deep, hot pain into his lungs.
“Oh shit, just a sec,” the stranger said. Amai heard the sound of something clicking, and then suddenly there was a smoldering cigarette at his lips. “Alright,” said the man, “now deep breaths.”
Amai wanted to resist, but he needed to breathe. And when he did, instead of the choking, burning tobacco smoke he was expecting, his lungs were filled with sweet, cool air. He grabbed the cigarette from the man and took several deep pulls, feeling his body miraculously relax.
“Better?” The man asked, once Amai was able to pull the cigarette from his mouth. (It was short, like it had already been partially smoked. Like it was the one the man had been smoking earlier and he’d simply relit it. Amai would have thrown it to the ground in disgust, but it made him feel so much better.)
“I can breathe again, yes,” Amai finally responded. “However, I am not better because I was perfectly fine before you came along and decided to ruin my life. You have a lot more to fix than just a panic attack.”
“Yeeahhh,” the stranger sighed. “I don’t think I handled this in the best way.” He gave a small grin. “Sorry about that. I’ll help you out, though.”
“You’d better,” Amai growled.
“Look, I did you a favour, anyway. Like I said, that glamour was probably going to wear off eventually.”
“You keep trying to convince me that I actually look like… like this!” Amai exclaimed. “But I don’t! Not until you showed up! I’m not a monster!” His wings twitched against his back.
“Nah, not a monster,” the man agreed. “A faerie. A Seelie pixie. I think. I don’t get involved with the Seelie too much. Unseelie pixies are more… feathers and talons, you know?” Amai just glared back.
“I am sorry,” the man continued. “This didn’t really go how I expected. I didn’t mean to freak you out so much. Wasn’t thinking about this through human sensibilities. But you know, you’re not a bad looking pixie, either. You’ll get used to it. And I’ll show you how to glamour yourself back into looking like a human, too. Just need a favour in return.”
“No.” Amai replied firmly. “You broke my “glamour,” you need to fix it. That’s not worth a favour. And I don’t believe you that it would have worn off eventually. That could easily be a lie.”
“Well, no, faeries can’t tell lies. Haven’t you noticed? Have you ever been able to lie to anyone?”
Amai had always been an expert at bending the truth. Not for nefarious purposes, of course. But offering compliments to soothe egos where none were really warranted. Avoiding leading questions… He couldn’t remember ever telling a lie, even when it would have been better, easier to. Amai knew how to deceive. He did not know how to lie.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Amai retorted. “If I’m “Seelie” and you’re, I presume, not. How should I know that the rules are the same? Besides, you said “probably.” That’s not an outright lie, then.”
“Damn, ya got me there,” the man replied. “Man, I really hate to be a dick about this, but I really need your help. So, I don’t think I’m gonna show you how to glamour back until you agree. Sorry.” He gave an apologetic grin.
“You can’t do this!” Amai wailed. He was surprised no one had disturbed them yet after his screaming earlier. At this point, more couldn’t hurt.
“Shit, I do feel really bad,” the man said. “This isn’t how I wanted to make this deal, but I’m pretty desperate. I can… teach you things too? Stuff about faeries that you really should know, for your own safety.”
Amai glared. It would be so easy to take the man up on his offer and then refuse to uphold his end of the bargain as soon as he was human again. But he could feel the wrongness of that in his bones. You didn’t cross the fair folk. Even Amai knew that. And whatever this stranger was, he wasn’t human.
“Don’t you even want to know what the favour is?” the man asked, face open and friendly.
“What?” Amai said, cuttingly.
“I need some things from the Seelie domain. Can’t really get in myself without storming the place, and that’s a bit much, even for me. I just need someone who looks like they belong there to help me get in.”
“So you want me to help you steal something?” Amai retorted.
“I think of it more as… liberation,” the man replied with a grin. “And you just need to get me in.”
“And why can’t you just glamour yourself to look like you belong?” Amai questioned accusingly.
“Oh no, faeries would be able to tell. Glamour only really works on humans. Other magic users can sense the truth underneath. Plus, I haven’t glamoured anything in ages, I’m not very good at it.”
“So that’s what you really look like?” Amai asked. “That’s not fair!”
The man chuckled. “Aw, you like? Thanks. Yeah, I’m an elf. We blend in with the humans a bit better.”
“An elf?”
In response, the man took off his sunglasses and flicked his long, pointed ear, which Amai had somehow missed up until this moment. However, Amai was immediately distracted by his brilliant red eyes.
“And people really let you get away with that?” Amai questioned.
“Well, most of the time I spend around humans is in the kind of venue where people assume this is all an affectation.” He winked.
“But. I saw you,” Amai rebutted. “The third night you were stalking me. Out of the corner of my eye. You changed.”
The man looked confused for a moment before realization spread across his face. “Ohhhh yup. That’s probably the death curse.”
“The what!?”
“It’s kind of personal, okay?” the man replied. “But I guess you can see the physical mark of the curse the same way you could see through a glamour. Don’t worry about it. It’s old and I’m used to it. You really ought to stay out of the Unseelie court. I guess exposure to that also allowed you to start seeing through your own glamour. Huh.”
“Fine then. So if this is what you really look like and you never use glamour, how are you supposed to help me?”
“I can walk you through it,” the man replied. “The magic has to come from you, anyway. But first, I want to tell you the important things. The stuff you don’t know.”
“No. First you are going to fix what you broke so I can go back to my life!” Amai exclaimed.
“Yeah, that’s the problem,” the man said. “Don’t want you running off without knowing the important stuff. Listen, just pretend that you believe everything I tell you so that you can consider how it affects you, okay?”
“Then hurry up with it,” Amai griped. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” He took another puff of the cigarette, which he’d been working on throughout their conversation, but he could barely hold it and get his lips around it at the same time it had become so small.
“No one’ll see,” the man replied as he pulled out another cigarette and a lighter. Amai realized now that the cigarettes were hand-rolled. “I did some magic to shelter us when you came over. No one’s going to notice anything unless they’re really looking.” It took Amai a couple of attempts to get the fresh cigarette lit, to his utter embarrassment. His hands had too many joints, didn’t work right (even though they felt so natural now). The man was patient all the while and didn’t even laugh at him.
“Okay, so faerie 101.” The man grinned. “First you know, faeries can’t tell lies. Bending the truth doesn’t count, white lies do. But you’ve probably figured that out by now, even if you didn’t know it. And yes, that applies to the Seelie and Unseelie both. Elves and pixies and sprites and gnomes, etc. etc.
“Then there’s the binding things. Like, deals are binding. And they aren’t always as obvious as the one we just made, so you really have to be careful when accepting gifts or favours to make sure there’s no strings attached. Always assume everything’s reciprocal, nothing for free. Mostly that kind of stuff is used on humans and their side of the deal is compelled out of them with magic, but if a faerie fails to uphold their end of a deal, they’ll die… Eventually.” The man shrugged, as though it wasn’t that much of a worry.
“Same goes with names. If you know a faerie’s full name, you can use it to order them to do anything. You could kill them with it by ordering them to do something literally impossible. Or to kill themselves, I guess. I think you’re safe, though. It only counts for your true name, the one humans use for you wouldn’t count… I think.”
“How do I know what my “true” name is, then?” Amai questioned.
“Might not have one,” the man replied. “Lucky for you.”
“So what do you call each other, then, if you can’t use your names?” Amai questioned.
“Nicknames, or partial names,” the man said. “It’s only the full name that has power. You can call me Zed.” He flashed a grin and stretched out a hand toward Amai.
Amai paused a moment too long before he placed his wretched limb into Zed’s hand, grip loose and unconfident.
“Amai,” he said, simply. “But surely you knew that already, since you’ve been stalking me.”
“Just watching!” Zed defended. “And I didn’t know. It’s nice to meet you, Amai.”
“I can assure you the feeling is not mutual,” Amai grumbled.
Zed sighed. “Yeah, sorry. Well, where were we?”
“What about these courts?” Amai questioned.
“Sure,” Zed replied. “So all faeries are aligned with either the Seelie or the Unseelie court. Courts of the day and night, respectively. Each has a ruler and way too many politics involved. Lots of turnover, it’s pretty hard to care after a certain point. They’re technically opposed, but usually not actively at war, you know? Lots of treaties to hold the peace. And, even though everyone comes from one or the other, there’s lots of folks, like myself, who prefer to stay as unassociated as possible. There’s neutral territory, including most of the human world. Cities are great to get away from faerie politics, even if it’s a pain to spend too much time here.”
Zed suddenly pointed at Amai’s face, or rather the cigarette that was once again at his lips. “Oh right! That’s important!”
Amai hadn’t wanted to question too deeply whatever drug he was smoking. His mind was perfectly clear, as were his lungs, and the relief from pain was too strong to want to tell Zed off for giving him an unknown substance, however much he’d normally be inclined to.
“Iron injures faeries,” Zed continued. “In its purest form, it will burn right through you. But humans started mixing it into things and building whole cities out of their alloys. So now all of their settlements are just full of iron and pretty toxic to faeries. Your glamour would have protected you a fair amount, but without it, pixies especially are pretty vulnerable to that sort of thing. Smoke and pesticides, too. Heh.”
“Then what am I smoking?” Amai finally asked.
“It’s called “Never,”” Zed replied. “It’s literally made from magic, specifically for faeries who spend a lot of time around human settlements. Takes the edge off, right?” He grinned.
“Are you telling me I’ll have to spend the rest of my life with one of these in my mouth?” Amai accused. He couldn’t bear the thought of it. Even though Zed was true to his word about providing helpful information, every new thing Amai learned just pulled the life he had before further and further out of his grasp.
“No, no, not if you can glamour yourself well enough,” Zed replied. “I’ll leave some cigs with you, maybe introduce you to my supplier to help you out, but you won’t need them all the time. Maybe don’t get any stainless-steel accessories, though, yeah?”
“Thank you,” Amai said, defeated. He was too tired from everything to even insist that Zed show him where this supplier was right now, even though he probably should.
“I am trying to be nice here,” Zed replied.
“You’re just holding my life hostage,” Amai retorted. Then, before Zed could respond, “Is there more, or can I go back to normal now?”
“Yeah, that’s probably enough to keep you out of too much trouble. Just be wary of magic when you notice it. You can kind of feel it in the air, the energy.” Amai could still feel the thrumming power coming from Zed’s person, tried to memorize the way it felt. “So try not to step on any toes,” Zed continued. That was something that Amai had plenty of practice with, at least.
“Alright then,” Zed announced. “Just the glamour, then. It’ll be easier if you can see what you’re doing, of course.” He did something with his hands, it looked incomprehensible to Amai, and a full-length mirror appeared, floating just in front of Amai.
Amai couldn’t help himself. He shrieked. He hadn’t been prepared just from looking at his arms and what he could see of his wings. What was staring back at him hardly matched any interpretation of “fairy” that he’d ever seen. The body plan was vaguely humanoid, and there were wings, but that was it. His skin was a pale grass green with lines in yellow-orange and pale blue. His limbs were too long, sharp-jointed and spiked along his forearms and knuckles. The wings were an iridescent green, veined and vile like an insect wing.
And his face. His disgusting face! His eyes were large and entirely black, two shiny dark orbs bulging out from his skin. His nose had lost all definition and stretched as a wedge-shaped plane from his brow to just above his too-wide mouth. His lips were thin and disappeared in the patterns of colour on his face and his teeth were flat and large and filled his mouth to the point he could barely believe he could still talk. The worst part was the antennae that sprouted from just below his hairline. The were segmented and twitched around without his consent.
He still had hair, Amai’s mind faintly registered. It was still blue, the same shade he’d been dying it for years. But it was longer than it had been this morning, falling down his back to the roots of his wings. And the shade of blue matched too perfectly with the patterns marking his skin, and Amai wondered if it had ever really been his choice to dye his hair at all.
That was the thought that sent him into panic once again. Even with the Never cigarette at his lips, Amai couldn’t breathe correctly. And watching that disgusting, inhuman thing in the mirror was only accelerating his crisis.
Suddenly, his view was blocked by another body in front of him. It was Zed. Shorter, but enough to focus on that it kept Amai from staring over his head and at his horrible reflection.
“Sorry, I could have done that better,” Zed said calmly. “You’re okay, though. It’s just a reflection, it can’t hurt you.”
“Emotional damages still count!” Amai retorted. “It’s disgusting. No one should be forced to ever see something like that!”
“No, it’s not. Not by faerie standards, anyway,” Zed replied. “You just have to get used to it.”
“I refuse to get used to it!” Amai exclaimed. “I want to go back to normal. Now!”
“You can’t really go exactly back,” Zed told him. “You’re probably not going to be able to create that strong of a glamour without a lot of practice. You’ll have to keep applying it, so you’re going to have to get used to how you look now. Or at least enough to keep a level head. It really is okay, though. Who said human beauty standards are everything?”
“I did,” Amai muttered. Though he didn’t really mean it. Not everything, but more than horrific faerie beauty standards, clearly.
“Hey, if I wasn’t in the middle of being such a dick, and you were having a better time coping with everything, I’d totally be hitting on you right now, beautiful.” Though his words were a bit crude, Zed’s voice was kind, and he placed a cool hand against Amai’s cheek, barely brushing the skin.
Amai closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. “Don’t.”
“Alright,” Zed said, easily. “Backing off. But do you want to give it another try?”
“Anything for this night to be over,” Amai said. He opened his eyes to see his reflection staring back at him once again. It was still awful. The worst thing Amai had ever seen. But if he wanted it gone, he had to control himself. And Amai knew very, very well how to control himself.
“What do I have to do?” Amai asked.
“Okay, so you look very intently at whatever you want to glamour, and imagine what you want it to look like. Take some time to get a really solid mental image. Then, try to feel a place inside yourself that’s like heat, but not burning, it’s kind of tingly actually? And –“ Zed was cut off as a soft whisp of magic breezed around Amai.
Amai stared intently at the mirror, checking his face from all angles, inside his mouth. He held up his hands to look at them, curled his fingers, ran his hand across his forehead and through his hair. It was like nothing had ever happened. Every piece of him was back in place.
“Wow, that was really fast!” Zed exclaimed. “And it looks really solid, too. You’re good at that.”
“Of course,” Amai said, haughtily. Finally, he was beginning to feel like he was back on even footing. “I always take excellent care of my appearance. Now is not the time to start slacking.”
Zed let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?” Amai glared in response.
“Too soon?” Zed asked, mood still bright.
“I hope you didn’t plan on running your little heist operation tonight,” Amai finally said. “I need my… I need to sleep.”
“Nope, still got some stuff to figure out,” Zed replied. “I’ll be back in a few days, then we can go.”
“And you expect me to just drop everything to work on your schedule?” Amai accused.
“Okay, I will be back in a few days to formulate a plan with you,” Zed amended with a cheeky grin. “And, if you need me in the meantime, you can come down to the Boar’s Head Pub. You know where?”
“I’ve heard of it,” Amai ground out. “So that’s where you lurk?”
“Sometimes,” Zed replied. “They can pass on a message, at least. Are you okay to get yourself home?”
“I’m relatively certain you are my only creepy stalker, thank you,” Amai snapped. “I’ll be fine.”
“Alright then. Good night. I’ll be seeing you later,” Zed said with a wink. He reached out and patted the breast pocket of Amai’s blazer, which thankfully had not suffered any structural damage from his hideous other form. Zed’s hand left the pocket heavier, and Amai realized he now had several Never cigarettes and a lighter as he turned away.
“Good night, Zed,” he said, simply. And, though he was already indebted to the man (could already feel the chains of his promise constricting around his heart), Amai wondered about the prudence of accepting a gift from a faerie.