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Shrewd eyes examine Rue over the edge of a porcelain teacup. “You look happy,” Chirp Featherfowl says.
They are sat on the patio of a house set in what Chirp calls “the suburbs” with a disdainful scrunch of her nose. Rue had greeted Esmé and Peep for a few minutes, allowing the child to pull delightedly on their feathers and shriek her head off in excitement at seeing “Uncle Owl” until Esmé pulled her off.
“Gotta get her to dance practice,” she had said apologetically to Rue’s disappointment. She kissed Chirp quickly. “Bye, hon.”
“Bye! Make sure to pitch my idea to the dance studio to put on Swan Lake! I can get real swans!” Chirp called to Esmé, who rolled her eyes with a fondly-exasperated smirk.
The garden is lush and beautiful, no doubt aided by Chirp’s magic and propensity to command birds. Even on the table, a few sparrows, jays, and cardinals hop about, pecking at crumbs from their scones.
Rue takes a sip of tea. “I am happy,” they say quietly. “I’ve never been happier in my life.”
“How are you taking to being part of two courts?”
“Andhera and Binx are wonderful, of course. You’ve seen them recently, I presume?”
Chirp nods. “They came by a couple weeks ago, and I’m sure I’ll see them again.”
“They just got back to the Unseelie Court and already, they’re planning to leave again.” Rue looks around the garden, at the tops of the houses visible beyond the fence. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they found permanent lodgings here in the mortal plane.”
Chirp looks thoughtful. “Mmm. I’ll ask Esmé about if there are any quiet places to rent nearby. It would be nice to have them close by.”
“You know, I never thought I would willingly see you seek out Pillar Boy,” Rue teases.
Chirp tosses her hair. “I am merely being hospitable,” she sniffs.
“Of course.”
They sit in silence for a few moments, Rue idly dropping crumbs to a curious little bluejay by their arm, before Chirp speaks again. “The Bloom was good all of us,” she says, contemplative. “I think we all had growing to do.”
Rue smiles, soft. They reach across the table and grasp Chirp’s hand, overcome with gratitude. “Lady Featherfowl, your words to me at the ball—they changed me. I thank you.”
Chirp’s eyes soften. “I’m glad. I admit, I expected there to be some…growing pains between you two at first after what transpired at the play, but it is good to know you moved past it.” Her eyes light up. “Oh, did you grovel? I do hope there was groveling!”
Rue tilts his head, confused. “My dear, what on earth do you mean?”
She pauses, a faint frown creasing her forehead. “Grabalba and Apollo? You were the one who orchestrated the demise of their union, were you not?”
“I wouldn’t put it like that.” Rue tries not to frown, suddenly on edge. “My intent was to dissolve an artificial marriage based in political alliance, not love. ‘Demise’ is a little harsh, no?”
Chirp looks taken aback. “Rue,” she says slowly. “You don’t mean to tell me that you never apologized?”
“Apologized? Apologized for what ? ”
“For prioritizing your idealism and making decisions on the part of individuals that never asked for it? For acting as though it was your moral calling to ensure that Apollo and Grabalba found ‘ love .’” She says the last word mockingly, accompanied with a careless flip of her wing.
“They would have regretted it!” Rue insists.
Chirp raises an eyebrow. “No, you assumed they would have. And indeed, even if they had, they were grown adults who made their choices. Did you not think that perhaps they had made the best choice for them in their circumstances, and what you did just made their lives more difficult?” She shakes her head and goes in for the kill, as fearsome as her title. “That in deciding you knew better, you might have made Hob’s life more difficult?”
Rue freezes. “No. I–I don’t…”
Chirp regards them pitilessly. “You know what he was like at the Bloom,” she murmurs. “You know how much pain he was in. And still you take pride in your moral superiority.”
“ No, ” Rue says again, finding their words. “It wouldn’t have been better if I’d let the marriage go through. We wouldn’t have found each other in the end if not for that. Hob has said as much.”
“Has he?” Chirp takes a sip from her cup. “Or did he just…let it go?”
Rue reels. Instead of snapping back, they take a moment to calm themself and really think about it. Had Hob truly said it was alright? There had been the heated exchange during the play, and then—and then distraction as they raced towards the portal, and then all the chaos afterwards, and then…lots of kissing, and few other words.
Chirp is right—they had never discussed it. Hob had just let it go.
“I was just…” Rue’s voice sounds distant to their own ears. “I wanted Apollo and Grabalba to have what I thought I never could. I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t think.” Chirp’s mouth twists, her eyes turning hard. “Well,” she says. “From one person in love to another, I’m going to give you some advice, Rue. Our dear Hob has never been one to demand justice for himself, not from his court and certainly not from you. Even when you owe it to him.”
Rue inhales. “I—I know.”
Chirp’s smile is frigid. “Then don’t let him sacrifice himself on the altar of your love. He deserves better than that.”
“Yes.” Rue looks down, reaching back to smooth the offended ruffle of feathers around their neck. “Yes, I…I have much to contemplate, it seems.” They look up. “It appears I have cause to thank you once again, Lady Featherfowl. I had not realized the depth of my error, and I appreciate you enlightening me.”
Chirp waggles her fingers, startling a cardinal off her chair. “Oh, you know me! They should add ‘insightful’ to my titles, don’t you agree?”
“And brutal honesty,” Rue adds wryly. “Truly, I am grateful for your friendship.”
Chirp reaches over and squeezes their arm. “Do give Hob my greetings, and let him we look forward to tea with him any time. Peep has been wondering when her Uncle Teddy Bear will return.”
Rue smiles and rises to take their leave. “I will.”
—
When Rue returns to their and Hob’s shared lodgings in the Unseelie Court, Hob is already there. Rue enters silently and observes him for a long moment.
Hob is gently buttoning and folding his great waistcoat, the one he wore for the last time to the Goblin Court weeks ago to formally renounce his court. His shoulders are slumped, his eyes distant as he smooths his large fingers over the fabric, caressing the buttons.
Rue’s eyes sting.
“Hob,” they whisper. Hob flinches but doesn’t look up.
“I do not miss them,” he says, voice like gravel. “They were a dead root, swollen with decay, feeding me rot. I do not miss them.”
Rue slides an arm over one broad shoulder. “Come here, my love.”
Hob folds into their arms like paper, breath wet and loud in the silence. “I am sorry,” he rasps. “I do not know why I am being so irrational.”
“You know what I always say,” Rue chides gently. “Your feelings are your feelings—”
“—and they matter. Yes. Yes, I know.” Hob’s arms tighten around Rue’s back.
“It’s alright to miss them, just as it is alright to hate them for how they treated you. Both of those things can be true.”
“They were my home. My people. I…suppose I can acknowledge that they meant something to me, even if wasn’t something always good.” Hob wipes roughly at his eyes. He gives a deep sigh and offers Rue a small smile. “I just need to remember that I have you. I’m happier than I ever was.”
Guilt burns like acid in Rue’s chest. They pull back. “Hob…”
Hob’s eyes widen. “What? Are you alright?”
Rue closes their eyes. “I need to tell you something.”
Hob waits, eyes fixed on Rue. Rue takes his hands.
“I’m sorry ,” they say. Hob makes to speak, and Rue shakes their head. “No, let me speak. I’m sorry for interfering with Prince Apollo and Viscountesss Grabalba’s engagement—it was wrong of me to assume that everyone prioritized love as I do, and I cost you and your court dearly. I should not have meddled and made that decision when they had already come to an agreement. I am sorry for being the cause of whatever the Goblin Court asked of you to regain their honour. I am sorry for all of it.”
Hob’s ears pin back. “Oh,” he says weakly, then appears not to be able to speak.
Rue steels their nerve. “Do you demand satisfaction?”
“ What ?” Hob’s jaw drops.
“Do you demand satisfaction?”
“Never.” The word is a tremor; Hob’s eyes are so, so wide. “I would never demand that from you.”
“No.” Rue steps back, fighting to control their breath. “Hob, you knew you were wronged, and still you did not demand justice from me. You need to hear me now: you must tell me when I have hurt you. This is not a relationship in which only one of us benefits. If I am taking advantage of you—”
Hob makes a wounded noise.
“ If I am taking advantage of you, ” Rue repeats doggedly, “or if I have harmed you in any way, no matter how slight, I need to know.” They pause. “And of course, I will tell you the same, though you know me not to hold my tongue.”
“Which I appreciate,” Hob says faintly.
“I am not without faults,” Rue admits. “And neither are you—that is just the way of life. And for this to work–for us to work—we need to be honest with each other. We cannot suppress our own needs to suit the other.”
Hob drops his head. “Very well,” he murmurs. “Yes, I was wronged. What you did was not right, and it cost me and my court dearly.” Rue’s heart falls, and they nod. “I…I do demand satisfaction. Not in a duel, per se…”
Rue looks down. “I will accept whatever you deem fit.”
“Then, my darling Rue, I request that you kiss me.”
Rue’s head snaps up, a strangled sound leaving them.
Hob’s eyes twinkly mischievously.
“Hob!” Rue exclaims. “Be serious!”
Hob shrugs, a silly grin twisting his lips. “I demand satisfaction through kisses. You are obliged to satisfy me.”
Rue laughs, then laughs again, collapsing into Hob’s chest as they giggle uncontrollably into their arms. “That’s not—I meant it, Hob!”
Hob sobers slightly. “I know you did,” he says. “And I will take your points under due advisement. I will do my best to be more honest and…center my needs more.”
“And I will attempt not to be so idealistic and righteous,” Rue says. “I am sorry, Hob. Truly.”
Hob smiles. “And I forgive you.”
He pulls Rue close and presses their mouths together, and for many eternal moments, they say nothing at all.