Chapter Text
The tickle of sweet wind in his ear told him the human was returning. A relieved look spread its way across his face, brightening his already high countenance.
His plaything was an exceptionally handsome young man, at least to his own faerie mind. Young, rugged, not innocent but certainly not worldly either-- he was the perfect combination of jaded, yet curious.
And it was becoming almost too easy to lure him back each time.
Richard was older than his prey, but by just how much, he couldn’t tell anymore. He’d lost his sense of age long ago, it felt like. He almost wished he could remember his first time coming to these woods, but his memory always remained fragmented when it came to his earlier years.
As he waited for the human, he glanced up at the monumentally-towering trees, with their massive branches extending like burly arms across where the sky was supposed to be. Very little natural light filtered down through the excessive treetops. Tiny glimmers of sunbeams floated through the heavy air in soft rays here and there, but that was the extent of it. The sky here was a gnarled, overgrown blanket of tree coverings, peppered with dark greens, blacks, dead browns, and surprisingly to those who didn’t frequent these woods: luminous blue petals
The shimmering petals gently fell from above, and scattered along a predetermined path. To humans and those not used to these woods, it would seem completely otherworldly how the petals fell and never touched outside the path they made up. They didn’t fall en masse, just lone petals here and there, fluttering slowly down.
According to legend, the vines that these petals fell from had been enchanted long ago and strung up by a lost magician to create a path so as not to get lost. These woods were utterly treacherous to humans without guidance, even magical ones, so it had been a true help to many who wandered through these thickets. Richard didn’t much care one way or another whether they helped or not. He had far less of an interest in leading large numbers of humans astray as he did with just one singular person. Richard wondered how brightly the petals showed themselves to humans, or if they simply looked like a normal blue, as the faeries alone could see when they chose. They were the only ones who could see this forest as it really was-- an excessively dangerous, dark, brooding place, despite the occasional lights and guidance of blue flower petals or small stalks with faintly glowing ends to mark memorials. Their magic charmed the looks so as to be far more pleasant than it was.
Perhaps he could find out through his human today...
That thought brought a smirk to his face.
*His* human.
It was not unusual for his kind to have such a strong obsession with humans, but their interest generally only extended to the tricks they could play on the unsuspecting people. Richard had latched onto Till like a parasite, desperate to just *have* him. He couldn’t explain why. The man seemed ordinary enough, and certainly no more clever or valuable than any of the other humans in the closest village as far as tricks or manipulation were concerned.
But this man… “Till” just felt special. Each time Richard released the human, a pang wounded his mind, and fear began springing up that he’d never see him again, or be able to experience what he did with him. Their interactions weren’t always pleasant, but it made him feel alive, more than ever before. The fear became worse and worse with every time Till left, and he had begun wondering what would happen if he just kept Till forever?
Nothing good, the elders had always told him. Imprisoning a human for too long would sour their mind, they’d said. They’d be useless, no fun at all as blubbering messes that couldn’t speak or move anymore. Well, Richard certainly didn’t want that, but he also could barely exist anymore with the rising terror. Even now, knowing the human was already on his way, the faerie was still anxious. Something was seriously wrong with him, and it was getting worse. He would be destroyed if he didn’t--
The abrupt change in Richard’s thoughts shocked him and made him realize what was actually crossing his mind. Where had those ideas come from? He didn’t really think that, not at all! Richard was fully in control of himself, and besides, what did he have to worry about as who he was? *He* was the one creating the illusions, the tricks and traps and breaks from reality. Maybe spending time with Till was causing human nonsense to perforate his own mind. Or perhaps--
Richard shook his head with a huff and crossed his arms impatiently. All this unnecessary thinking was making his head hurt. Till needed to hurry up. All would be well once reunited with his plaything.
His foot started tapping rapidly.
---
Till walked steadily down the path of dull blue petals. Dressed in tattered pants and a grimy shirt that smelled like ash and hot metal because of his work. He’d left his village early that morning, as he felt a tingling in his mind that signaled he’d be greeted by something today. His sense was correct, as he was accosted by a particularly annoying raven once his feet strayed from the well-worn dirt path away from his home. It cawed at him and swooped close to his face, cackling at his choice to continue on.
“Back, back, back!”
Till could swear he heard the bird chant at him from above as he approached the woods, occasionally diving to make him duck out of the way and then laughing in crow-speak as it soared up again. The annoyance put Till’s teeth on edge, but he knew it was just another technique to make him even more stubbornly determined to keep going.
It was such a paradox how that-- not man, he assumed as much based on all the illusions and magic-- that “being” could lure him back each time by threatening him or encouraging him to stay away. It was the perfect reverse psychology, which didn’t make Till feel any better about his stubbornness. He’d been doing this for months, now. He missed important work during harvest, time with friends, family-- all lost priority when he felt the pull.
Even cautionary ravens couldn’t hold him back when Richard called. It didn’t take too long, or at least it didn’t feel like it before Till rounded a huge tree trunk and saw his…
His what, exactly? Could the other be called *his* to begin with?
Could he even be claimed at all?
That he was a faerie, of the fae folk in general, was Till’s first guess. A guess it remained as well, since Richard never spoke about himself, nor did he have the stereotypical wings faeries were supposed to have, he thought. The amount of pleasure Richard gained from his tricks seemed evidence enough of his heritage, but the mischievous streak seemed to have taken a turn for the darker, lately. It was the final push in why Till continued coming back, despite all the fighting in his reasoning. Something was going on, and Till felt as though he needed to be part of it in some way. But when he’d asked, Richard gave him the same maddening and unhelpful answer he’d given when Till asked if he were a faerie: a shrug, smirk, and wink.
Till now felt obligated to Richard somehow, but he didn’t know why, and as he drew closer, these thoughts flitted out of his mind like the shimmering butterflies hovering ominously near the blue path. They indicated he was close, and that was indeed the case as he rounded a corner around a gnarled tree and saw him half-hidden near some scraggly brush.
Richard stood with his ever-beautiful clothes that looked shimmery in the dimly lit forest. He wore a tightly fitting outfit, high-collared shirt, vest, and trousers that reminded Till of royalty, in a way. The shirt and vest were a very dark, deep red, darker than a blood moon but lighter than blood itself. Across the beautiful reddish hue lay intricate patterns of black, curving and delicately crossing up and around and down the snug, gorgeous top. The small buttons down the front of the shirt were made of what looked like lightly colored polished wood. His pants gleamed even in the dark with some sort of mystical hue-- Till could never figure their color out. Some days they seemed blacker than the darkest black he’d ever seen, and other days they simply looked iridescent. Today they were definitely more on the black side of the color scale. His calf-height boots gleamed as though they’d been polished for days on end, and a single, small bone earring pierced through his left earlobe. His ears were ever so slightly pointed; far less than what Till had seen and read before in folk tales of the magical creatures. His nails were short, but shone with a bleached-bone color painted across them. Dark hair was purposefully tousled atop Richard’s head, as if he’d frozen it in the perfect place after running his fingers through it. Some sort of dark tint was smudged across his eyelids as well, and served to accentuate the deep blue of his actual eye color.
Beautiful.
Richard’s arms were now crossed tightly over his chest, but Till didn’t pay much attention to that. He knew what the faerie wanted first. Though Richard had become increasingly erratic the more meetings they had-- and increasingly dangerous-- the faerie always insisted on the same thing to begin each encounter.
Without a word, or even meeting Richard’s eyes properly, Till walked directly up and then sank to his knees in front of him. Unseen to him at first, Richard smiled down.
---
Yes, yes! There he was, marching steadily toward Richard with his eyes glancing around curiously at the forest, as the man did every single time. The relief cascaded over Richard, but he kept his face stoic and his arms crossed. This easing of anxiety was in Richard’s mind only, and despite confusing Richard to no end (no other faerie he knew struggled with anything like this), he was able to push it aside and keep his demeanor firm. That was of the utmost importance to him: maintaining his facade. The world could be exploding in his own brain, but as long as Richard’s outward appearance was calm and serious, everything was fine.
He did twitch a bit when Till approached and obediently crouched down for him, though. It was to be expected with what he knew came next. Normally he’d wait, and hold onto this composure for a bit longer, but today felt different. Richard was in a hurry, as something felt like it was pushing and creeping up behind him, but mentally.
For this reason, he tangled his hands in Till’s hair abruptly, nearly forgetting to paint the area around them with his mind like he did each time. It varied between exotically beautiful locations and some non-locations that were no more than eye-catching colors and shapes thrown against a blank background somehow. He always made Till’s first pleasure as enjoyable as Richard felt it. And it always was enjoyable, very much so.
---
Till never tasted anything when Richard was finished, but he felt and heard it. Richard’s heated voice crooned out gasps and hiccups of breath, and the swirling beauty he’d created around them exploded outward in bright colors and flashes. Till knew enough to close his eyes, as he’d been blinded for a full day the first time. He’d learned very quickly not to look at Richard at this point either. The second time, he’d tried instead to stare up at the faerie’s face, but the moment Richard met his eyes, he’d screamed. Till had never heard Richard do that before or since then, as it had scared Till enough to simply close his eyes now.
He wished he knew what went on in the minds of magical creatures, to see what had caused Richard so much terror that the man felt the need to scream bloody murder when he finished and Till happened to be looking at him. Part of him knew whatever scared a faerie was probably far too much for his own mind to handle.
But he couldn’t stop wondering, even now as he kept his eyes squeezed shut until Richard’s grip in his hair loosened.
With a hum of approval, Richard let him go. Till opened one of his eyes just a crack, then all the way as he watched in awe at the new scenery around them. The two were on a cliff outcropping, overlooking a massive lake that broke windy waves against the hill they sat on. The view was breathtaking, and the roar of the waves was the most peaceful background noise Till could come up with. Richard must somehow know this, Till thought as the faerie took him and laid him down amongst soft grass and tiny white flowers on the cliff. There, Richard returned Till’s initial favor tenfold, leaving Till a trembling, gasping mess.
Till was given only a minute to gather himself before Richard scooped him into his arms, then leaped naked off the cliff with him.
---
The world flipped yet again.
He was drowning among the man-sized pink flowers in the lake, gulping a raspy breath of air if he got the chance; more often than not, the chance was a falsehood too and resulted in another mouthful of lake water. It tasted like bile choking down his throat, despite still clearly seeing the beautiful flowers floating on the clear water's surface. He hadn’t started off drowning, or he couldn’t remember if he had. The two had been swimming, floating happily in the warm water before things began to change. The water felt syrupy, heavy, and something dragged his gaze downward.
A mermaid, or merman, as it were. Glistening rainbow scales, long flowing blonde hair, blue piercing eyes, and beckoning hands…
Of course he’d tried to swim down to catch him. And of course he couldn’t before his lungs began burning and protesting the lack of air. Now he was being pulled down as he struggled to kick back up to the surface.
The panic began to dull as his kicking legs and scrambling arms tired. A darkness crept in from the corners of his eyes, and exhaustion began overwhelming him. The perfectly clear water flickered. Till's fading gaze suddenly saw what looked much more like a darkened swamp with black water, sickening green mist, and not flowers atop the liquid, but instead floating creatures with glinting teeth and red, piercing eyes.
With lungs burning and sight nearly gone, he knew he would die here, forced to try and gasp for air again as he was slowly dragged under by Richard's--
Till chanced a look down, and saw not the pretty, rainbow-colored merman Richard had been before, but a murky lake demon lit by some ethereal red glow. The muddy brown fish parts were half gutted and decaying with exposed bones and flesh beneath tattered scales. Till registered nothing else of the demon but another set of violently piercing red eyes before his vision fled. He wondered if drowning would hurt less than what awaited him now: dying at the creature's teeth. It went dark just as the claws of the water-demon stabbed his legs.
---
Once he’d dragged Till’s limp but still-breathing body from the lake, Richard’s mind continued to fray, and then snapped entirely.
It was so cold, so very cold and alone, and all he could see in the far distance-- the only spot amidst empty blank space was the faraway form of Till.
He *must* reach him. Till could save him. He was the only one who could.
Slow, staggering steps, one after another, moving closer and closer to his salvation.
---
Till woke up freezing cold.
His body felt heavy and wet, but his surroundings told him he was in a snowy tundra instead. It could be anywhere, if it were Richard controlling things, and though Till was somewhat used to things changing quickly, this was extremely fast and unusual even for Richard.
A cough made Till flinch and whirl around, scanning the empty snow field.
An elk buck stared at him from a short ways off, and then Till saw the slow unveiling happening yet again. Bright creams across the flank and fuzzy chocolate browns of its fur began darkening. Foul stench creeped its way from the animal’s body and hit Till’s nose, making him gag. Hunks of flesh started dropping in chunks from the creature. Rotting, fur-covered lumps fell and splattered against the snow, which turned black from the diseased meat falling into it. Puddles of inky darkness spread from the area around the elk, which was turning into more of a skeleton than a living animal. Holes showed right through its body to the liquefying organs inside, and soon they began falling out and joining the abandoned, putrefying flesh mounds in the snow. The large right antler rack cracked and crumbled right off its head, leaving an eerily lopsided view. Black continued spreading outward from the body and drew closer to Till.
He quickly back-stepped to get away, but the buck lurched forward through the knee-deep snow to chase him. One of its front legs snapped in half with a sickly crunching noise and sent the deer to its knees, but it didn’t stop. It began crawling-- or perhaps dragging was the better descriptor-- toward Till, broken leg and all. It made gurgling noises at him with clouds of heat in the freezing air as it drooled more of the black liquid out the side of its mouth. The elk stopped then, and raised its head high and tried to bugle, but it came out as a choked wail that cried out in words Till understood:
***Help me***
Till grabbed his own head and staggered backward further, trying to twist away from the pained screaming that he felt in his skull. When he looked back, the elk had wasted away into bones that were loosely held with melting sinews and tendons. It struggled to keep moving toward Till until there was nothing left but a grotesque pile of rotting flesh and bones. The black pool continued spreading until it caught up with Till as he tried to run through the snow, but fell. It crashed over him like a wave, and sent ice through his veins. His last thought as he looked back at the elk was utter shock at seeing Richard instead of the pile of rot and blackness. Richard was curled in a ball, screaming.
The world snapped back yet again, and Till felt sick at the abrupt change. He couldn’t get used to the world suddenly morphing into the darkened forest. He saw Richard in the same spot, but now he’d looked over and seen Till. The one who used to always seem like he had the upper hand, and enjoyed stripping reality from Till and mocking his confusion-- that being was now having *his* reality stripped, somehow, and he couldn’t handle it like Till did.
Richard leaped up from where he lay and raced to Till. He fell to his knees and grabbed Till’s legs desperately, as if the bigger man were the last remaining mast above water on a sinking ship. Till felt the faerie shaking badly, and Till knelt down with him. He looped his arms around Richard and held tightly, trying to mitigate the trembling though it didn’t seem to be working.
“Please, please help me,” Richard begged in a harsh whisper, clawing at Till’s clothes and body to try to press closer. When Richard looked up at his face, the transformation shocked the bigger man.
The black that had been so carefully lining his eyes earlier was now smeared, and gave him more of a ghoulish appearance than pretty-- like that of the undead rather than a mischievous faerie. His face looked haggard, pale, and as though life were being sucked slowly from him. It was horrifying.
Richard sobbed again, burying his face in Till’s stomach as he begged.
“Please, don’t let me break!”
Till didn’t understand all the words, and didn’t know if “break” was emotional or maybe even literal. He didn’t know what was going on with this creature at all.
But that didn’t mean he didn’t know what he’d do.
“I’ll help you,” Till promised in a whisper.
He had no choice.