Chapter Text
The dirt road was well-trodden with the steps of sturdy boots.
It was an early spring morning with frost forming grass thorns on either side of the road. Truth be told it was the tail end of a long, long winter rather than true Spring, and the air of this particular wood vibrated with impatience. Buds fought and won minor battles against bitter stillness. Deciduous trees stretched and groaned over the course of the day, shaking their new leaves like limbs long-sleeping.
It was on this day that Martin walked a particular stretch of forest, enjoying the changes taking place around him. Though he had a destination in mind he was not under the illusion that he would make it there anytime soon. Better to appreciate the warmer weather and the return of regular feeling in his fingertips.
With his decent head start at dawn Martin finally chose a place under a particularly large willow under which he often liked to rest his legs and eat. With resignation he ate a hunk of hard cheese, wishing his past self had considered how eating the same thing continuously could ruin it forever. He hadn’t gotten to that point yet, but he was sure to get there soon. Perhaps he should’ve been enjoying this peaceful half-breakfast in the shade of a beautiful tree. His mood wasn’t quite there, though.
He settled for neutrality that morning. Neither refreshment at the scenery nor exhaustion at the walk ahead, only an acceptance of quiet sameness. Bread and cheese and water. Bread and cheese and water. This was his thought as he packed up his things and prepared to walk again.
There was a rustling in the boughs above. He froze.
An animal. It had to be an animal. A bird or something. If he moved slowly and watched his footing he could slip away without attracting attention or disturbing the area. With some anxiety he looked about his feet and saw no signs of strange habitations. No circles of fungi visible to his eyes, though he wiped his spectacles on his shirt to be sure.
With a sudden rush of movement several tiny sparrows flitted out of the tree, making him flinch. The laugh that came out of him was hoarse. He couldn’t be too careful in these particular woods, but this kind of anxiety shouldn’t come up every time a bird made its presence known. He laughed again and pictured what he must look like, a hunched-over man in his late-twenties terrified by a few sparrows. But anyone would be afraid by a few sparrows in those woods. If he hadn’t needed to take that beautiful road, if he’d had other paths to his destination, he would have taken them.
Still, he chose to laugh at himself. This time it was only a host of sparrows. A better host he couldn’t have hoped for.
As the morning drifted on sunlight released the flowers and grasses into open air, leaving the ground damp under Martin’s boots. With some bitterness he thought of his mother’s town also defrosting in the sun, now a week or so away on foot for the average traveler. He knew as long as he walked alone he needn’t worry about keeping that pace. It wasn’t that he wasn’t able to do so. His legs were strong from working as a field hand for many years now, and from his travels along this road. He simply was too tired to put in the effort on that very trip when he was the only one to care about it. It wasn’t as if she was waiting at the end of the road anymore.
Neutral. He had decided today to be neutral.
The improving weather couldn’t dissipate his gloom, but the gloom couldn’t entirely block out the sun. He ate a little more as he walked, still wary from the morning surprise, but the exercise kept his mind from drifting too far down the circular, negative pathways it liked to navigate.
By mid-afternoon he came across the oak tree that despite the cold start of spring had grown back a good portion of its leaves. A personal favorite spot of Martin’s and a decent halfway marker, he was happy to see it and sat down with a slight oof under his breath. That particular place had a nice smell to it, he thought, now that winter was being shaken off. He breathed in, leaning back against the thick trunk and rubbing his eyes under the spectacles.
Leaves rustled above him and he tried not to flinch. A squirrel flitted on a thin branch above and was innocent enough. Maybe not this oak at this particular time, he thought, pushing himself onto his feet.
Something high above him broke with a sharp crack.
With dread he looked up into the sun-speckled leaves to see something large falling towards him- no, not something, someone , arms flailing out and failing to grab onto the many branches on their way down. On at least one large branch the person seemed to take a nasty slap to the back before continuing their descent. That was all of the information Martin’s mind could process as he reached out his blessedly solid arms and-
Thump .
The catch was good. One arm under the torso, the other managing to scoop under a pair of thin legs. He would’ve been rather proud of himself had it not been for the pair of moth wings that stuck out of the person’s back and stared at him with false eyes wide with scrutiny. Wings that were currently pinned between his arms and the person’s back.
Martin’s stomach sank into the ground. Maybe he could join it before anything worse could happen to him.
The person in question seemed as stunned as Martin in that moment, gazing straight ahead as if processing their position. Then, their eyes flicked upwards at Martin and they began to flail as they had before. An elbow landed square against Martin’s jaw and with a shout he did his best to set the person on the ground. In another situation he might’ve dropped them outright. Not with someone like this.
Brown hair framed their face, and some sections of the bangs dangling a little longer over their brow. The rest ran just down to the nape of the neck, meeting a dark, high-neckline shirt that sat under a loose green sweater. It all looked rather soft. That fact didn’t do anything to quelch Martin’s terror.
“You can’t-” The person began to shout, pulling one of the wings around him and clearly looking for damage. “You can’t just catch a man and crush his wings like that! Don’t you know how delicate they can be-”
“I am so sorry -” Martin began. Goddammit, why did a person like this need someone to catch him when he had wings? It was his fault he’d fallen and barged in on Martin’s day- but interrupting him was a terrible idea. Why had he done such a thing? “Sorry, I really-”
The fae switched to the other wing, seemingly finding no issue other than Martin’s transgression in catching him from a nasty fall. “You’re sorry? If I was in a worse mood I would curse you for this!”
Martin froze, hands up in supplication. Don’t make it worse. True blame didn’t matter with the fae. “And I appreciate it! You’re very kind!” He didn’t grit his teeth in case it warped his face away from wholesome gratitude.
After a moment of further inspection, the fae nodded and sniffed. “It seems no real damage was done. But think before you act.” He brushed a stray twig from their trousers.
“Of course, I should have known better after traveling in these woods so often. I’ll certainly follow your advice.” Whatever that advice meant. Letting people fall out of trees? Deftly slipping his arms under the torso without the wings getting in the way?
Instead of nodding again and leaving with the final word, the fae looked him up and down. Martin’s stomach had nowhere left to sink.
“You know these woods well?” he asked, crossing his arms.
Martin replied, slowly, “Yes. I’ve been through them quite a few times.”
The fae looked back up into the tree and grimaced. “I was attempting to gather my exact location up above, but it seems it’s only forest for miles. While I trust my own sense of direction, the place I’m traveling to is one I’ve never been.”
“Oh? Where are you headed?” Martin asked, tamping down on his impatience. “Maybe I can help.”
“Perhaps.” The fae seemed relieved at the help offered without direct solicitation and failed to completely hide it. “I’m on my way to Thornsbury. Is this place familiar to you?”
Martin’s smile twitched as politeness overrode his common sense. “It’s about a week away on foot. Actually it’s close to where I’m going. If you’d like, I can guide you up to the crossroads where things are marked.” Then, a way out of this came to him. “But I can’t fly, so perhaps I would slow you down?”
A quick series of expressions dashed across the fae’s face. It was a mix of deep thought and mortification, though at what Martin couldn’t say. Help from a human might be an embarrassment now that Martin thought about it. Damn.
The fae coughed. “If you’re confident in your knowledge of this place, then I will accept your offer.”
“Completely confident,” Martin said. And he was, unfortunately. With his familiarity with the area he’d helped several down this specific road. Never a fae, though. Of course never one of the fae.
With hands tied by pride still intact, he gestured for the fae to follow him down the road. He did, nice shoes not getting a speck of mud on them as he walked. Some stray leaves stuck to the otherwise very nice sweater and trousers that seemed to somehow blend into the leg near the bottom into a patch of hair or fuzz before thinning back out into knitted socks. The neat ensemble made Martin’s tattered cloak and grimy boots that much more apparent. The benefits of a journey just begun, he supposed. Or magic.
He was leading a member of the courts through the forest like a lay traveler.
The smart thing was to keep his mouth shut. The fae barely made a sound except for the gentle swishing of fabric, and every once in a while Martin would direct them both toward a particular turn. The road split in random directions, the offshoots barely visible if you didn’t know where to look for them. He hoped his guidance didn’t come off as condescending, as much as he wished it could. Thankfully, there weren’t any complaints and they could walk in silence.
After about three hours without a word, Martin cracked.
He cleared his throat, making the fae jump mid-step. “I get the rules of these things, but do you want me to… call you anything?”
The fae rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why you would need to.”
“Right, right.” Martin picked at his nails. “It’s just-” A week is a long time.
“If you absolutely need to fill the space, please prattle on about whatever you’d like. I can ignore you.”
Martin risked a withering look while Jon continued looking ahead. “No, no, I’m fine.”
He wasn’t happy, but he would make do. His previous traveling companions tended toward talkative, the types to welcome a sincere offer of help not backed by the looming threat of fae magic. He liked chatting with strangers on their way to somewhere else.
This week was shaping up to be the longest in a while.
-
This new guide was helpful, as it turned out.
Until that fateful meeting Jon had been more lost than anyone needed to know. The trees there stretched for miles, a fact not apparent when he first entered those woods. He should have expected this of a place so connected to magic but took one too many wrong turns in its maze of dirt paths. And all that with a lingering winter to make him stiff and irritable and somewhat powerless.
Scuttling up a tree had been embarrassing enough. Being seen plummeting from that tree was infinitely worse.
But things had been smooth since accepting the human’s assistance. As far as he could tell there were no adverse effects after being caught, no binding magical contracts created between them. In the inscrutable magical ledger there were no amounts left unbalanced. Free assistance was hard to come by and despite the hurt to his pride he had to take it.
The man was big. Jon knew he was short compared to many, but this one was tall and wide with an awfully tattered cloak and spectacles. Despite his stature there was no sense of threat to him, with his little spectacles and quiet voice. He wouldn’t work to deter much other than those who are cowed by height alone.
Hopefully they would avoid external threats altogether.
All they had to do was walk until the end of the road. He’d rebuffed an attempt at conversation hours ago and heard not a peep from the guide outside of him indicating the correct way forward. Jon might’ve rebuffed the attempt too well. It might’ve been easier to let the man talk freely rather than trap them both in an awkward silence that may last the whole week. He hadn’t needed to travel with another person before. What did one say to someone who was more than a passing breeze but less than an acquaintance?
By nightfall the guide set up camp by the road. Other travelers had clearly used the space before, making for a quick start. It was mostly for the guide, really. Jon intended to sleep in one of the trees, hidden from sight.
They both ate dinner in their own ways. Jon made do as he had been, foraging in the nearby woods. The place was rife with edible plants. He couldn’t imagine someone lacking food in a forest like this. Meanwhile the guide was neglecting it all for cheese and bread. Superstition, no doubt. Jon, being a stranger to this particular wood, wouldn’t have been able to tell what posed a risk for humans to eat. Being so confident walking through this place, the guide must have already familiarized himself with the court here. Jon said as much as he pulled himself up onto the bough of an oak.
The guide shrugged and said, “I know to bring my own food and watch where I step. It’s hard to say which court is around when the point is to keep out of their way. Some of the side paths can get pretty nasty, though.”
“Personal experience?” Jon asked, trying to get comfortable up on his perch.
With some thought the guide said, “People tell you these things before you step foot near the woods. But yeah, I’ve seen the… end results of encounters before.”
The pale face of the guide warned against further inquiry. Jon preferred not to know those end results until he was well out of the woods himself and didn’t have to worry about his way out being inconveniently turned into something less useful. Enough questions on that front. He settled on his back and rested his hands on his stomach, feeling more and more awake as he lay there. Thus, other questions.
“What is your purpose in these woods?” Jon prodded.
“It’s the only way to get where I’m going,” he replied.
Frustratingly vague. “Yes, but where are you going?”
“That… doesn’t seem like something to tell you? Sorry.”
It wasn’t unreasonable. Jon pushed again. “I’d like to know what kind of person is leading me through these woods. I think that’s only fair.”
There was a pause down below. “Seeing family. They live on the other side of the forest. You?”
“What about me?”
“‘What about me?’” the guide said with the first hint of real annoyance Jon had heard from the man. Jon’s ears pricked at the sound. “I answered your question so you should answer mine.”
Jon’s mouth twitched. He could spin this and threaten him with another curse, but he wasn’t in the mood to terrify. “You already know what I am and where I’m going.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
Not much conversation flowed after that. The night was quiet except for when it wasn’t. He heard cackling on the wind and the smell of pastries wafting in from some far-off place. The guide would not notice these things and it was best not to mention them.
With the new day came the realization that he would be expected to wake up early. That felt unnatural enough, and he was prepared to be a bit sluggish. Unfortunately he hadn’t yet had to deal with cold spring rain in this place and that morning, while the guide walked with a thick cloak, ragged but warm, Jon felt the first drops against his face and braced himself for a day of hiding under the line of trees. If he didn’t he’d have to feel those cold, awful rivulets down his wings for the rest of the day.
“Don’t you have some sort of, I dunno, protection for the weather? Your clothes seem fine,” the guide said, hood obscuring half his face as he walked on the worn road.
Jon frowned. “Obviously. I just find the feeling unpleasant.”
Keeping up was becoming a bit of a problem. The brush was starting to thicken at this time of year and despite his natural blessings twigs still got caught on his clothes. Where was ethereal grace when you needed it?
He could tell the guide wanted to ask a specific question as Jon continued to pick his way through the brush. He sighed, keeping his expression neutral. “No, I cannot ‘just fly over it’.”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t-” the guide sputtered, then gave up on the lie. “Okay, yeah. I did want to know. Do you mind me asking-”
“The weather. It’s too cold and wet.”
This seemed to confuse him. “Does that matter? I always figured magic took care of things.”
“Of course it matters ,” Jon replied, staring at him with all the condescension he could muster while avoiding patches of mud. He gestured vaguely above him to the budding trees. “Seasons, you know. The courts are all tied to them. If I’d known about the late winter here I wouldn’t have started off for this place when I did.”
“It’s quite a bit warmer than it was, though.”
“For you , maybe.”
The guide seemed to consider this, was about to say something, and then stopped himself. Irritating.
“Spit it out. I’m not in the mood to deal with unasked questions.” He was falling behind again with all this focus on talking and narrowly missed a nasty hole in the ground.
With a sigh, the guide swished one side of his cloak open with a large arm, revealing a small pocket of empty space under the fabric. “Would it be easier if you just…? It’s too big for you to wear, but it’s better than running off the path.”
Oh. Hm. He wanted to get out of the rain quite badly. And at the rate he was moving he would be in this situation much longer than he needed to be. On the other hand he chafed at a human assuming he couldn’t handle himself in a fae wood of all places. It was just some cold water. He was more powerful than-
“All right, whatever you like.” The guide shrugged and let his cloak drop.
“Now hang on , I haven’t given you my decision yet,” Jon said, tromping away from the trees with not a drop of mud sticking to himself. “I’ll accept your offer as long as there’s enough room underneath.”
The guide obliged and lifted the cloak, allowing Jon to slip under. Jon stifled a small sigh of relief as new drops ceased to fall on his wings. With his height there was more than enough to cover down to Jon’s wings and then some without having to stand too close.
“This will do. You can put your arm down. I believe I can handle it from here.”
He felt the heavy fabric drop onto him, and he looked up to see the guide snapping his gaze to the road ahead with a small smile on his face. Victorious at having something Jon needed? Laughing at his ridiculous appearance under the cloak? Satisfied at having done something useful? Most likely it was the knowledge that so far he hadn’t been cursed. He was certainly experiencing something. It was hard to say what , but Jon hoped to find the answer by the end of the week or else the not-knowing would torment him. But his wings would be dry soon at the expense of the front of the guide’s shirt and right sleeve getting wet. A small price. Human clothes didn’t feel anything.
The guide was also thoughtful enough to slow his much longer strides, but by the time the rain stopped Jon was the one insinuating that one of them needed to rest. This time Jon did thank the guide for his help as he stretched his arms and wings in the open, rainless air.
The guide made the mistake of answering with a genuine-looking smile and ‘any time’.