Work Text:
"Hey Rayla," he had asked one sun dappled afternoon in the western woods of Xadia, "what do you know about fate?"
Fate. Destiny. The Path. Words she had heard swirling in her head as a child.
Rayla had once believed she knew a lot about fate, specifically that it didn't exist.
However, something about this journey, about this mission, about her and Callum and the way they had been thrown together made her wonder...
"—I mean humans have some pretty weird thoughts on it, like my dad said destiny was something you wrote yourself but I mean do you think the universe has something to do with it?"
Rayla felt herself pulled back into the present, hearing the last words of Callum's ramblings.
"I think," She paused.
The wind danced lightly around them, fluttering leaves but not yet willing them to fall in the Summer breeze. Zym snored peacefully in her arms. Callum and her walked closely, elbows brushing every few minutes. Familiar and soft. She could hear a hillowisp singing. The bird's song trilled lightly far into the woods. Everything peaceful and right in the midst of the ever looming fear of war and wrongfulness. Paradoxically.
"I think we aren't meant to understand fate."
Callum glanced at her quizzically, and then turned to process that thought as they continued on.
The faire of the village Parlowe was known throughout Xadia for its delights and confections. The largest dance in the western counties was held there, and many travelers came from miles around. Even as far away as Ulapellium, if you know where that is.
For Callum it was beautiful, exciting, and strangely familiar in an oldish sort of way. His senses were dazzled by the tide of colours, noises, and smells that wafted across the early Autumn breezes.
For Rayla it was a roadblock and a danger. As much as her heart longed to allow Callum to enjoy the displays, her head knew the possibility of him being found was so much higher. Still she reasoned, the participants would soon be heavy-headed on moonberry wine and skyflower spirits. His strange appearance, and unlikely accent would go roughly unnoticed in the sea of fellow visitors. And truly as it were, they needed supplies.
Rayla quarreled with herself as they neared the town, Callum already growing more excited every moment. His smile was delightful and infectious and made all that was in her feel like the jelly her uncle made every solstice. Her thoughts swayed for Callum's joy, and she relented to her own temptations. For they were still young, and the young must enjoy themselves once in a while.
Hiding the young dragon in Callum's bag, they wandered round the stalls, eyeing the treasurers and craftsmanship of the artisans. It was when Callum found the bookseller's tent, and the bookseller herself asked very little questions, that Rayla dared leave him to the golden knowledge and went to look around for supplies.
"Don't do anything stupid." she admonished and he smiled at her in the way that made her heart beat clumsily.
"That goes for you too." he said in return and squeezed the hand he held before he let go.
She had ducked for cover before the warmth on her cheeks could be seen.
Rayla weaved between stalls, beginning to understand the layout of the faire. Each ring of a large circle held a different assortment of delights, with the dance to be held in the innermost area. Artisans flooded the outer edges, followed by the third ring where she found the necessities. This was to ensure all travelers would eye the more unnecessary treasures before finding what they truly were after. The second ring belonged to the amusements. There were great storytellers and players performing in the larger tents, with puppets and shadow creatures and illusions. One large arena held an acrobatic flying show by the skywing elf clan known as the Stratic Family. Rayla remembered them from her childhood when they performed in her own village. Smaller tents held smaller presentations, including one Rayla remembered with a tinge of pain. It was a farce, a group of elves dressed as "humans" or at least what elves were made to believe humans were like. She wouldn't let Callum near that one.
Dodging through the stalls was difficult with the throngs of people present, but she could see the sights of a general goods merchant ahead.
" R a y l a "
The name floated into her ear like a whisper, she turned, unsure if she heard it.
" R a y l a "
It said again. She turned in a circle surveying her surroundings but no sign of the speaker did she see.
"Callum?" she squeaked out lightly, "Is that you?"
"RAYLA!" it called louder. and when she turned again a old elf stood before her. She was not an inch taller than Ezran and with a look that said more than most people have in their lifetimes.
"Hello my dear." She said lightly. Rayla blanched.
"Was it you? Calling my name?"
"Was it your name?" the old woman countered "I was calling the name of one who I was told to see."
Rayla eyed her suspiciously. "You're a seer."
The old elf nodded. "And you are well-versed. Come."
"I'm not coming with you."
"Come." she demanded. "Or I will call the human instead."
Rayla should have known, a faire was not a faire without the Seer. She followed, fearfully as the woman led her way inside the tent.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked not unkindly. Rayla remained guarded.
"How much do you want?" She asked bluntly, not daring to even sit in the presence of the woman.
"I require no money, I merely seek to answer your questions."
"Everyone has a price,," countered Rayla, "especially your folk. You'd hold my own thoughts over my head until I pay you a petty ransom for my own free mind."
"You're far too cynical child, has it ever occured I want to help you and the boy?"
"There is no boy."
"Oh it's no use in hiding that, if I hadn't known by the lines on your palms, I'd know by your eyes, your cheeks, and the tips of your horns. Moonshadows cannot hide anything in the daylight my dear, and you know it very well. It is only his humanity that makes him blind to your endearment to him."
Rayla's cheeks flared for a moment, but she stood steadfast, "I'll ask again, what is your price?"
"Your fortune. My price is your fortune, or would you rather go forth on your mission without knowing if you'll succeed? Would you rather drag him along only to lose him? I sense your fear."
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" and with that Rayla unsheathed her blades.
The old woman however was quicker. She rose in height almost instantly, her eyes growing ablaze as a fire.
"SIT." She commanded, steady, the words not leaving her mouth but echoing in Rayla's brain.
And Rayla sat, against her will, bewitched.
Across her markings flew the old woman's hands, stretching the skin under her fingers, analyzing lines Rayla couldn't see and never knew were there. Her horns were measured to the angle on the wall, showing which of the patterns of stars they aligned to. The Seer sought a runestone and ran her fingers over blindly. Saying words in a language too old for Rayla to remember.
Then she stopped, her eyes wide open again and the fire gone from within. She stared candidly.
"Your fate, is a murky one. I cannot see the truth for it is incomplete. A puzzle without a piece."
Rayla sighed with relief for but a moment, but the Seer continued.
"My price extends. Bring me the boy."
"NO."
"BRING ME THE BOY." She commanded once more, the words flying into Rayla's ears without ever being spoken.
And Rayla felt the compelling to obey, struggling against all her senses.
Callum eyed the tent warily, he hadn't understood what Rayla had meant as she dragged him along the rutted path. Dodging in between stalls, acting like a puppet on a string. She had said nothing but "COME WITH ME" in a voice that didn't sound like her own. Callum was worried, and rightly so.
It was when the footsteps brought them in then Rayla's death grip ceased and her voice returned as she strung together curses under her breath. She turned to him "I'm so sorry Callum, I can't stop her. She's a seer."
And the woman emerged from the shadows to greet him.
"Hello Human. I have seen much of you, but clearly not enough. Come and let me read your fate."
Callum balked, a wavery voice from his throat holding with determined steadiness as his hand hovered over the closed flap of the bag where Zym hid "If I say no you'll turn us in won't you?"
"You won't say no." Said the woman. "I have as much control over you, as you have over yourself." And with that she sat him squarely in the chair away from her, and with a whoosh of her hand she sent Rayla out of the tent.
"Go get the supplies girl, and return here." The voice in her head rang. Rayla, infuriated, felt her body betray her, complying on its own.
"Now then," Said the Seer examining Callum's hands. "Your Fate my boy, although you cannot see it is a cord."
She turned and rummaged in a small basket, pulling from it a small blue thread of soft wool.
she added to it a deep green cord. and twined then together making an entirely new strand.
Pulling and twisting and rolling it along the colors came together, a brilliant teal color, like the sea.
Callum's eyes grew wide as she handed him the thread. He held it soft in the light of her lantern, till she took it back and tied an end to his pinky.
"I do not believe I need to tell you who each cord represents?" She said with a slight mischief.
He had seen the blue one alone before, noted the shade, the color of his jacket, and the green was unforgettable to his eyes. Rayla.
"Our fates are intertwined?"
he questioned. "Because of Zym," his brain completed.
"Not because of the dragon, you silly boy." The woman chided, hearing his thoughts as if they were said aloud. "Has it never occurred to you that they have been fixed always? Look over that cord again, could you separate the pieces back to what they were?"
"No, I can't." he admitted "I can't even see where one ends and the other begins."
"That is your fate." she said with assurance.
"That is what your lives will be."
And Callum's head began to spin as he felt his eyes close and open again. Standing alone and bewildered outside the tent. Or where the tent should have been, for nothing remained there. He looked down to his hand, on his pinky the cord was tied firmly. He looked up again and Rayla was there before him, a bag of supplies at her side and attached to her third finger for only his eyes to see was the other end of the cord.
We aren't meant to understand fate.
It is meant to understand us.