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Being stuck in Solaria was never going to be ideal, but Rosalind didn’t exactly have the largest number of options when Aster Dell went wrong. She couldn’t get as far as the cabin in Eraklyon, much less the rest of the world, and Linphea was absolutely out of the equation. Half a realm from Alfea is still much too close, in her opinion, but it’ll have to do for now.
“You really kept this place stocked, and a full fireplace? Damn.”
At least Andreas seems okay with their new lodgings.
“Stop that.” Rosalind swats at him as he walks past with an armful of blankets he’s raided from a cupboard. His attempts at levity would normally provide a modicum of comfort, but she’ll remain tense until their safety is more assured. “Perimeter check, barrier, then you can go ahead with your creature comforts.”
“Yes ma’am.” Andreas drops the blankets unceremoniously in the middle of the floor, turning and heading outside. Rosalind has to fight the urge to roll her eyes before reminding herself that he was just a student a few years ago.
Andreas had perhaps been too kind when he labelled Aster Dell “a bit of a fuck up”, when it was more likely to go down as a failure of epic proportions. Something had gone wrong, and Rosalind was still trying to figure it out. The magic convergence hadn’t been as powerful as she expected, with her current top theories being that the fairies involved weren’t powerful enough (unfortunately unlikely, though they could have used a few more years under her tutelage) or – perish the thought – she’d missed something key in her research. Regardless, the circumstances meant waiting wasn’t an option, and so she had acted when she did.
The moment the blast took out a singular building instead of expanding across the intended radius, an unease settled itself in the pit of her stomach that she still hasn’t been able to shake.
Timing has always been the problem, even now. When your ex-protégée runs off to the queen with irrefutable proof that you tried to take out an inhabited village, you don’t exactly get much notice before you’re on the run as Public Enemy Number One.
(She didn’t have to ask him to come with her, didn’t even have to hint that she was about to bolt. He’d heard the news through some channel or another and had shown up that night at her door with a bag slung over his shoulder and an unwavering trust in her course.)
After a quick guess at the perimeter Andreas is taking, she picks the front door as the midpoint of her anchor. Barriers are arduous tasks, and even harder without the undercurrent of ambient magic Alfea provided, but it will have to do for now. She can’t risk Farah finding them, not when they’re relatively close by and still within Solaria’s jurisdiction.
Forcing the magic out and away from her takes a considerable amount of effort, sweat beads forming along her hairline almost immediately with the exertion. She lets out a sigh of relief at the blue currents radiating across the clearing and knitting themselves together as they rise up above the trees, but the relief is just as quickly followed by dread as she feels her power drain. Every instinct is telling her to pull back but she fights against it, pushing through.
She hates this, having to sacrifice the use of her magic, but she’ll do it to ensure the safety of herself and Andreas both.
By the time she has finished she’s barely able to release the tension in her fingers enough to let go of the doorframe. She’s dimly aware of Andreas, solid and warm behind her, and that’s the last thing she remembers until she wakes.
~~~
Three weeks go by, and with each passing day Rosalind becomes more and more aware of two things.
First, that perhaps she may have been slightly overzealous in her use of runic limiters as Headmistress. She may not be fully without her magic, but the majority is tied up in the barrier and she daren’t use what she does have lest Alfea’s new Headmistress get a whiff of it. It’s almost as though she has a phantom limb now, constantly reaching internally for something that isn’t there.
Frankly, it’s awful. She’s not above admitting that.
Then again, the limiters were necessary – she had to see if Farah could function without her magic, and her lapdog. (Necessary, even if upon reflection that may have been the start of the younger fairy turning against her.)
The second is that Andreas is annoyingly domestic, and she… isn’t. He’s taken to it like a duck to water, a fact that irks her greatly.
“Think of it like a holiday,” he says as he saunters up behind her, grabbing her hips while she’s midway through making something resembling a meal. When she doesn’t respond, he lowers his lips to her neck and murmurs, “You and me and no one to bother us.”
Ros shrugs him off, sidestepping away to grab another knife from the block. She doesn’t quite know how to deal with open and unfettered affection from him, and avoidance is her first instinct. “This isn’t a holiday, this cannot be a holiday, there’s too much at stake.”
He’s feeling a little rejected, she doesn’t need to be inside his head to figure that one out, but she can’t help it. She’s also trying to figure out when she started giving a fuck about anyone else’s feelings.
“You’re heading out again tomorrow?” she asks as she returns to chopping. Maybe if she changes the subject it’ll make things easier.
“Yeah,” Andreas responds as he swipes a piece of carrot out from under her. “Going to have to try the pub in Longdale, heard that Harrington shows up there.”
Andreas is, thankfully, still able to leave without much fuss (why Luna didn’t include his face on the wanted posters is beyond her, but it works in her favour), which leaves her relying solely on him for information, research material, and supplies. Even if she had her magic, she’s far too recognisable to be out in public right now, leaving her occupying her time with the books that Andreas sneaks back for her. She’d spent over a decade building up an army, training new recruits, having a host of fairies and specialists fulfilling her every command, only for it all to go straight out the window when she was forced to disappear in the middle of the night. But Andreas is still here.
And chewing rather loudly.
“Close your mouth,” she chides. “Or they’ll immediately clock you as Eraklyan and that is a fuck-up we cannot afford. We need him.”
Rumours have been swirling for years about the existence of duplicates of old artefacts, most of which currently sit as part of the collection of Solarian jewels. The more they chase it, the more viable this lead becomes, but it’s a delicate process where Rosalind is having to leave much more in Andreas’ hands than she would otherwise prefer.
“Don’t stress, Ros, it’ll be fine. I’ll charm him.”
“You think you’re charming?” It’s a reflexive response – of course he’s charming, how else does one end up in bed with a freshly-ex-student – but it has him grinning and shifting behind her.
“Worked well enough so far.”
“When you see him, you need to –”
“Can we save the briefing for the morning?” he interrupts, his breath warm against her neck once more. “I had… other plans.”
They shouldn’t, not when there’s so much to do. Still, she allows him to turn her around and press her back into the counter as though they aren’t on the run from half of the Other World.
~~~
Having to share one small bed isn’t new to either of them, having spent the better part of two years out in the woods pretending that there was nothing going on. Some nights it’s reminiscent of sneaking him into her tent, the closeness, but other nights having Andreas’ limbs pinning her down in the tiny bed becomes oppressive. His breathing in her ear seems louder, his body heat more stifling than usual, and she has to extract herself from under him in the wee hours to be able to breathe properly again.
When sleep doesn’t find her, she buries herself in research. Which is how she finds herself watching yet another sunrise with three books open on the table in front of her. Staring out the window isn’t particularly conducive to achieving much, but it’s been a slow morning. A slow month, really. But progress is being made, and that’s all that matters.
The news that her contacts in Domino are still around and making inroads into the larger problem is perhaps the best she’s had thus far (especially when new fronts against the Blood Witches can help mitigate her failure), but there still remains the issue of getting there and meeting up with them. Her surest bet remains the lost duplicates, at least one of which she believes can activate gateways. She did stumble across an ancient ritual that could be promising, that has the potential to be even more effective than the magic convergence was intended to be, but she’s not at all confident, not after how the last one panned out.
She’s still lost in thought when Andreas emerges from the bedroom, bleary-eyed and with his hair sticking in all directions. He looks even younger, somehow, with the morning sun lighting up his face.
Then he comes over and kisses her on the forehead with a knowing look and she’ll be damned if that doesn’t suddenly remind her why she picked him. For all his playfulness and occasional immaturity she saw through it instantly. Underneath it all he’s steady, unwavering, and proving to be more of a partner and less of a subordinate than she initially thought possible.
“That was sweet,” she says, the barest hint of a smile gracing her face.
“And?”
“Don’t ever do it again.”
~~~
The air is beginning to cool again, and the morning that the first frost settles on the ground is the morning Rosalind decides that they need to switch their focus and start stocking up to get through the winter.
Close and soon, they’ve reassured each other, but in the last few weeks it’s as though the trail has gone cold. Rosalind has exhausted all of the books that are now neatly stacked in the corner of the room and, until Andreas can find her some further information, they’re stuck.
She’s acutely aware of the fragility of their position, too. Andreas’ last trips had resulted in the news that, as the anniversary of Aster Dell approaches, Luna has dedicated another unit to searching for them and they’re inching closer. With Alfea’s winter break swiftly approaching, Rosalind wouldn’t be surprised if Farah takes the time to join the search too.
And the second she suspects there’s a barrier in the vicinity, they’re fucked.
She’s been checking the barrier nearly every day, looking for weaknesses or anything that may give them away. Once she has sufficiently reassured herself she turns to supplies, preserving what she can and stocking up wood for the fire. And after that comes the incessant rereading of her research.
It’s barely enough to keep her sane, and once Andreas starts spending his time looking for sustenance instead of information she fears she’ll spiral further.
She has pulled out the same book almost subconsciously every single day for the last week; the one that hints at the ancient ritual. She’s even started keeping it in a bag in case they need to flee, rather than in the pile with the others. If the ritual could be completed correctly, it would give them a large advantage in the war against the Blood Witches, but any aspect going the slightest bit awry would be disastrous, for both her and her magic. She’s tabled it as a last resort, but the time of last resorts appears to be inching closer and closer.
It is a risk, but she is probably the only fairy who could –
She’s pulled from that particular train of thought by the sound of yelling, and the sight of Andreas sprinting across the clearing has her abandoning her books immediately.
Not that Rosalind Hale gets nervous, but she’s on edge as she heads out the door.
She realises he’s yelling her name as he runs, and more than ever she wishes she had her damned magic back so that she could be more prepared for whatever this is.
Panting, Andreas comes to a stop in front of her, and it takes her a moment to register there’s a grin near splitting his face.
“What in the seven realms –”
“Got something for ya,” he says, pulling a small velvet box from one of his pockets.
Before she can say anything, he opens the box to reveal a sun-shaped ring nestled in the cushion.
“You found it,” she whispers, unable to tear her eyes from it. This is it. This is their escape.
The last time she saw this ring was on the hand of the princess (now queen) at one of their private training sessions, and now in front of her sits an exact copy, glowing softly in the sunlight. Even without her magic she can sense the power in the ring, a welcome confirmation that she was correct.
Andreas takes her hand in his and drops down on one knee, still holding the ring up.
“Rosalind Hale, will you do me the honour of getting us the fuck out of here?”
A choked off laugh escapes from her throat, and she almost shakes her head in disbelief. All she can do is slide a hand into his hair and roughly press her lips to his for a moment.
Finally, she can get it back.
Stepping away from him a few paces, with her arms spread, she begins the process of calling back the barrier. It’s not nearly as complex as erecting it – her magic is more than willing to return to her – but it still takes time and precision. The barrier untangles itself into familiar blue currents as it recedes, surging towards her and causing her hair to stand on end as it winds its way up her arms and into her chest. Magic coursing through her veins once more, Rosalind closes her eyes and revels in the feeling.
When she finally opens her eyes again Andreas is at her side with a bag over his shoulder, slipping the ring onto her finger. He raises her hand to his lips, kissing the ring reverently.
She can’t help but smile, turning her hand to cradle his face as the full force of his emotions come rushing in, settling themselves back into her mind. Normally she’d block such things off, but not him. Not any longer. He’s wormed his way in there and she doesn’t think he’ll ever leave, not with the way he’s looking down at her, eyes full of adoration.
She can tell that he has absolutely no idea what’s about to happen, but despite that he still trusts her completely.
She definitely chose correctly.
Rosalind slips her hand into his as they stride together towards the thick clump of trees, the cool metal of the ring pressed between their fingers. A sudden remembrance of best practice has her directing a ball of fire behind her, the sound of crackling wood reverberating around the clearing. The research, any evidence of where they’re off to, none of it can remain behind.
Neither of them look back.