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The how and the why isn’t important. Life gives you a bad roll and sometimes all you can do is make the best of it.
The Nightmare King so wants to say that this is all a force outside of his control that’s caused such chaos and impending doom upon him. But it’s not, really. He’s just as culpable in the life he’s chosen to create for himself, in the character he’s decided to play, in the character sheet he’s filled out with a lot of thought.
Somehow, the fruit of his labour amounts to Gilear Faeth.
The rolls either continue to be low or astoundingly high for what he’s looking for.
He could have very easily chosen to be a high elf, but that’s a whole can of worms he so dearly wishes to avoid. He could have hidden as a demon, most already characterising him as such – but he is neither a demon nor an undead nor fae. He can’t pass as human. And hiding all of his magic, cramming it inside of a vessel and then camouflaging it against the most potent Detect Magic and such out there is a Sisyphean task unlike he’s ever attempted.
Gilear Faeth is a studious wood elf who works with diplomatic matters. Not a high paying position nor a position of any grandeur – he is a newcomer, of course, and he’s still trying to lay low. All is going according to plan. Not that there is a hard, concrete plan, he’ll freely admit. Gilear Faeth still feels like some puppet he’s made for his own amusement, and not who he is supposed to be. Perhaps he cannot become Gilear Faeth while still being so very close to the Forest.
Sandra Lynn blows him a kiss. Gilear Faeth looks like the type of man that becomes smitten by beautiful women who like him, he decides. Gilear Faeth can be a romantic, pathetic soul.
Quitting his job and moving to Solace to be with Sandra Lynn is the exact thing he’s looking for. Gilear Faeth is so ever smitten by Sandra Lynn. He wants to start a family with her. He wants to be there for her. He wants to be the perfect husband for her.
And she falls for it. Well, mainly because none of the things Gilear Faeth say are untrue. So, of course she should believe him. But still, for beings who live for centuries, effectively immortal, they’re rushing into this marriage rather quickly.
Though, then again, once you’ve already lived for centuries, you’ve got to think that any couple of months or years is too fast.
Another thing that’s too fast is how easily he’s become Gilear Faeth. How well he’s melded with this character he’s built. A kind, deeply amorous elf who, if pushed, is going to collapse like a stack of cards. Yes, that part is very important. He’s got no crown, he’s got no spell slots, he’s got no strength, no acrobatics, no dexterity – no, this man is meant for the home and quite possibly only the grocery store.
For his purposes? This is more than enough.
When Gilear Faeth sees Baxter for the first time, he jumps behind Sandra Lynn and asks her if she’ll protect him. Sandra Lynn’s eyes sparkle and she smiles. ‘’Of course I will, Gil.’’
When Gilear Faeth sees a bus for the first time, he’s confused by it. Sandra Lynn tells him all about Solace’s technological innovations. At his peculiar looks she even jokes: ‘’Where’d you come from, the Nightmare King’s forest?’’ Gilear Faeth laughs. It’s an ugly, loud, and incredibly awkward sound that comes tumbling out of his mouth. One could even liken it to being nightmarish. Sandra Lynn just cracks a smile. She takes something out of her pocket and shows it to him. ‘’It’s just a crystal, look.’’ She hands him a crystal and tells him how to work it, preparing him for this giant shift in his life.
But she always makes sure to squeeze his hand just-so, and tell him: ‘’I’ve got you, though. Don’t worry.’’ And she always kisses him so gently. Because if she doesn’t, Gilear Faeth will most likely break. He doesn’t have much HP. All of his HP was redistributed into other places of bigger worth that make Sandra Lynn not mind his awful laughter or his awkwardness with fitting in.
When Gilear Faeth hears that Sandra Lynn is pregnant. That he's going to be a father. Well... he's overcome with an emotion he can't place. Even though he should, of course, since Gilear Faeth is nothing more than a wood elf and wood elves are notoriously known for being quite ordinary in the grand scheme of things.
Happiness. That's what Gilear Faeth settles as the emotion's name. He is overcome with just ferocious joy when he hears that Sandra Lynn is pregnant with his child.
Though. Quite possibly he's overcome with a dire, unfathomable urge to finally not be one of a kind. But he's not one of a kind, of course, he's Gilear Faeth. He's just some guy. And there are many „just some guys“ out there.
Figueroth Faeth is a wood elf.
Gilear Faeth doesn't think much of that. So is Sandra Lynn. So is he supposed to be.
Figueroth is... a little girl. A little scamp. A little nightmare. Gilear Faeth finds himself utterly charmed by her. And he doesn't quite find himself scrambling to cast countercharm. Not that he has a spell slot. Not that Gilear Faeth would even know how to cast one on himself if he had one to begin with.
Sandra Lynn, Gilear remembers, was stressed around the birth. Now that she sees Gilear's taken to young Figueroth, she's relaxed completely. She smiles. He smiles in return and plays with Figueroth's little toes and fingers.
When Figueroth smiles at Gilear he is inspired to craft such nightmarish chaos.
But that's not what Gilear would do, of course, so Gilear Faeth cries and says she has the most wonderful smile and the most beautiful voice he's ever heard in his lifetime. Which isn't a lot for Gilear, but it's a lot more for the one truly charmed in this scenario. Countless sirens, infinite dancers elven or otherwise, performers of legendary kind all pale in comparison to when Figueroth babbles and claps her hands, looking up at him with such joy.
He has never experienced this.
He has never not been alone.
Holding Figueroth in his hands, cradling her to his chest, he does not feel alone anymore.
Neither a fae, nor an undead, nor a demon, nor an elf, nor an orc neither anything all the time.
Figueroth and he spend a lot of time together. Sandra Lynn works. It's for the best. Gilear doesn't know if he could keep up the facade for so long, with so many variables. He doesn't want to think about combat or about battle or about forests. Especially not forests.
''Dad,'' when Figueroth calls him dad, he feels pride swelling in his chest, but he always stifles it down – pride is what has gotten him in this body, in this life, in this scenario. He remembers the druid with the fox and so he merely smiles at Figueroth and tries to nail himself to the present. ''Dad, dad, do you want to do each other's nails?'' She's holding up her ink nail polish. Such a sweet little girl, this Figueroth. It really should have been apparent she was not of his essence. However, why should he have expected nightmares when she could have been the dream come true to his nightmares? He holds ferociously onto this idea and trudges on. Denial is a nightmare of its own, after all.
When Sandra Lynn comes back from work she sees him wriggling his hot pink nails as he waves in greeting. For a being made to rule over nightmares, he makes sure Figueroth never has them.
When those horns come in Gilear Faeth sends forth such a ferocious, angry, raw display that he's surprised by himself. This is nothing like Gilear Faeth.
Sandra Lynn is silent, as if her worst nightmare has come true, displayed in front of her and echoing in her mind. And it has come true. He can see it in her eyes now. ''You betrayed me.'' And how many creatures have dared betray him? None have succeeded, and those who have tried before, he has made sure to kill them in fashions unspeakable. How easy it would be to destroy Sandra Lynn like an enemy.
But it's in a split second that he remembers Gilear Faeth has no idea how to do any of this. That he's just a man like any other who's been cheated on and it's come to light. How mundane. How ordinary.
Figueroth is looking at him with tears in her eyes. She's hiding her horns with a hat, but it's not enough. It's not enough. She's just a tiefling. He is alone again. He remembers the joy at not being one of a kind anymore, at having a kindred spirit in someone. At having hoped for someone like Figueroth to come along all his lifetime.
''Dad-''
''I want nothing to do with you.'' He hisses at this disappointment, at this betrayal, at this isolating feeling strangling him, causing his voice to break: ''You are not my daughter.''
In an act of rebellion, she denounces him back. ''I'm not Figueroth Faeth. I'm just Fig from now on!''
There's power in giving yourself a name. Gilear Faeth is a name he's crafted for himself. He's in a grocery aisle, in the milk and frozen section. All alone. Not having Figueroth to tag along with him anymore. He lives all alone now. But that's no different. None of this is any different to what he's already lived through. His eyes squint at the yoghurt cups.
Something is going to change for the worse, he can already tell. He takes the yoghurt cups and puts one banana yoghurt in his basket. It's just to test it out. He's not made a habit of eating frozen yoghurt. Figueroth likes ice cream. This could be a Gilear thing. And Gilear Faeth so does need a thing now that he's been vanquished from his home, vanquished from his marriage (divorce is such a humiliating process), and vanquished from being Figueroth's dad.
This is a nightmare. His entire life is a nightmare.
He should be proud of his greatest work yet.
In the Strongtower Luxury Apartments, he takes a spoonful of yoghurt and his eyes widen.
Yes, this is definitely going to become a problem. He'll need to go back to the store to buy more immediately.
Figueroth Faeth resents him. She dreams of her real dad, but her dreams always turn towards Gilear Faeth and she shouts at him, screams at him for saying such hurtful things to her, and she hisses retribution on him – but by the end of her dream she never gets what she wants. All she does it wake up with fresh tear-stains on her face.
The resentment ebbs away. She’s got a whole adventure of hers to deal with and being mad at him for stuff is just a waste of time.
So, Figueroth reaches out to him. Gilear is in yoghurt stained clothes when he decides he does miss having her around. When she winks, she inspires him, but not enough to get him out of this self-imposed nightmare he's thrown himself into.
He eats his yoghurt and thinks that this is all what Gilear Faeth has to hope for.
Being alone is so tiring. Being pitied instead of feared is, he’ll admit, incredibly jarring. But this is just what Gilear Faeth is. It’s not him. Though, he is Gilear Faeth so this is all him. It’s dangerous to think about the creature he was before Gilear Faeth.
''I don't know if he'll eat if I'm not around.'' Figueroth whispers to her friends in worry.
Gilear is inclined to show Figueroth that he has an ample supply of yoghurt to tide him over and that she shouldn't be worried about him so much.
Apparently he should diversify his diet, as per Adaine Abernant's suggestion.
He thinks buying different yoghurts means he's satisfied their worries. Apparently it's only quadrupled them.
Fig. Not Figueroth. But she doesn't mind when he calls her Figueroth. And he does call her Figueroth. And he still calls her Sweet Daughter. And she doesn’t mind. Her eyes crinkle fondly, even.
Gilear remembers the very first conversation they’ve had since his leaving. Since the horns.
''Mom's hasn't been able to trance properly.'' Figueroth says, offhandedly. ''She's been having nightmares and stuff since you left.''
''And you?'' Gilear asks. He's curious. These people so often speak of nightmares manifesting as a trauma response for young children. Divorce is so painful, people's consensus is.
''Oh, I mean, I don't trance. I sleep now.'' Figueroth grimaces. ''I don't think I ever tranced, actually.''
He is looking back on a lot of those irregularities of Figueroth's from her childhood and just chalking them up as this being normal for a being like her. Like him. Now he knows better.
''Do you sleep well?''
''Yeah, yeah.'' Figueroth says. Lies.
He'll eat her nightmares. Perhaps even Sandra Lynn's. He doesn't have the energy to be angry. Not with his body overflowing with yoghurt. Gilear Faeth's life is a nightmare and he is very proud of what he's accomplished. Quite frankly, Gilear Faeth's life is such a nightmare that it causes more nightmares for other people just by being in close proximity to him. They are terrified of becoming like him. It's a strange turn of events from being afraid of him.
Figueroth Faeth rocks out with her bass. She asks him if he likes it. It seems she's definitely embraced this infernal heritage of hers. ''You don't know who my real father is right?''
Gilear Faeth can't say he's ever bothered to check. ''No, Figueroth, that’s something your mother wouldn’t share.''
''Well, I bet it's someone really powerful and super cool and that's why mom won't let me know who it is, you know. She's protecting me from the truth, but that's all gonna blow up in her face, you know!''
Gilear asks, morbidly curious, having a very good recollection of powerful demons and devils from his long, long life: ''Who do you think is a contender?''
''Ughh,'' Figueroth stops, looks at him as if she hasn't done a day of infernal research, shrugs, and just slams him with the funniest thing he's heard in centuries: ''probably the Nightmare King, I dunno.''
Yoghurt flies out of Gilear's nose and mouth as a response.
‘’Ahh, my nose is bleeding,’’ He feels the damage done to him by this experience of horror. He’ll need a healer!
''Oh Gilear.'' Figueroth rushes to help him. He's coughing profusely.
People just don't understand what attracted Sandra Lynn to Gilear. With her track record of bad boys, Gilear Faeth makes no sense.
''I mean, she and Jawbone are looking PRETTY swanky.''
''And she and Gorthalax made sense you know.''
Then, in whispers, as if Gilear isn't right there to hear them: ''What the fuck did Gilear offer her?''
Gilear Faeth continues to think that this life is his greatest creation. As far as nightmares go, this life is terrifying to everyone but himself.
He's a Lunch Lad.
And that's Kalvaxus.
But he's a Lunch Lad.
So that means that this isn't any of his business.
Besides.
It's not like Gilear Faeth would even know what to do with the information that the Vice Principal of Aguefort Adventuring Academy is Kalvaxus.
Things change. Figueroth is a famous rockstar. She's somehow got three dads. And he is one of them. He calls her daughter to test it out, and sees her smile so widely. When she smiles he feels so less alone. Not that he can be alone, of course, with so much yoghurt to keep him company.
Truly, at times he horrifies even himself with how well he's created Gilear Faeth.
Things change.
Hallariel Seacaster casts a hook and Gilear Faeth is so utterly charmed by her that he bites it, just to see where this will go. How could one not be? She is a force not to be reckoned with.
Things change, but they don't change that much.
Gilear Faeth lives in her garage.
Truly, this is all one big nightmare.
''My car's been repossessed by the car sharing company.''
''It's their car?''
''No, no, daughter, the car is mine.'' Gilear goes for more yoghurt. ''The company just took it from me. So I do apologise, but I don't have a car anymore. And I can't take any of the buses because one of the bus drivers threatened he would stomp on me. It's best to walk.'' Layers of exhaustion mar his features.
The looks these kids spear him with is enough to let him know that he may be going too far with this. But at this point if he doesn't see how far he can push the limits of Gilear Faeth's nightmarish life, how will he know how far this nightmare can go? This is his greatest creation.
Figueroth hugs him. He hugs her back.
This coffee order is truly something else. He’s absolutely in awe of these children. Bad Kids, as they call themselves.
''NO, DON'T BRING GILEAR HE'LL DIE.''
Gilear Faeth doesn't want to go on this adventure as a hireling. He cannot overstate this enough: he is just some guy and just some guys tend to fall dead like flies and if they take him then so be this on their heads, then.
They do bring him. Fabian Seacaster insists.
Gilear Faeth has never been in combat. And he's not sure he knows what Gilear Faeth can even DO in combat. Fighting back doesn't make any sense. But there's no room to hide in this hotel lobby. So he just stands in the middle of the room and closes his eyes and hopes not to get ravaged by demons.
''HE'S THE CHOSEN ONE!''
Gilear is holding onto a blanket. His hands are shaking. There's a very round frog on his lap, ribbiting comfortingly.
''Gilear...'' Figueroth is looking at him strangely.
He chances to look at her. She’s biting her lip, stopping herself only momentarily from asking a question that nobody like Gilear should be asked.
''Gilear...are you the Nightmare King?''
And Gilear Faeth looks at her and says: ''No.''
He's Gilear Faeth. It's all very obvious.
''Well, I had to ask.''
''No, you really didn't.'' Gilear scoffs. He hugs the blanket closer. And then he weeps because he got hit so very hard in the back of his head.
''HE'S THE CHOSEN ONE!''
Gilear Faeth does not accept this for his characterisation of Gilear Faeth. He is not the chosen one. He is just some guy.
He crashes the van and dies.
He dies so many, many times. And he comes close to dying so many, many more times.
''This is getting ridiculous.'' This may be the first time it's not Gilear Faeth speaking.
But dying is uncomfortable. It makes Gilear Faeth scared and pained and otherwise indisposed. This is all so very, very ridiculous.
Sandra Lynn’s life is crashing into shambles. She’s leaning towards him. They’re speaking amicably about their lives in the van. Not far from them there’s a shrimp party.
A pregnant pause appears.
It’s an opening. An in.
Gilear Faeth smiles and shakes his head no. ‘’Oh, no, no thank you.’’
Sandra Lynn smiles sadly, laughs it off. What a low this must be for her, to be rejected by Gilear Faeth.
They continue with their conversation nicely. There’s not a moment where they think the other has wronged them. Gilear Faeth feels powerful. The Forest is right there. The Briars are right there.
Tomorrow morning, the fox is right there.
The rituals stand.
It doesn’t recognize him. But he recognizes it.
Gilear Faeth doesn’t know the fox. Gilear Faeth doesn’t recognize anyone, not even if they had spent centuries together. He doesn’t have any foresight. So, he chats with the rangers alongside Sandra Lynn, telling them that these are all children.
Figueroth Faeth just outright tells them that they want to stop the Nightmare King from being crowned, reborn whatever, and leaving the forest.
Suddenly the fox is paler than foxes ever could be. It tells them that all of the resources of Holly Hill are theirs to use.