Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: IN THE BLIZZARD

"Artemis! Artemis!"

Holly didn't bother checking if on the other side communication was open. She didn't try to clear through her fogged-up visor whether her fists were hitting the bell the name written upon she couldn't read or not. She didn't even care if she was still shielded. She just knew she couldn't stop, or she would die.

She pounded on the door, screamed into the wind, not even worried that any humans might see her. There simply wasn't room in her brain for such thoughts. She heard her own voice, felt her own limbs moving, and that meant she was still alive, that she had to keep going.

Artemis would save her. Artemis wouldn't let her die. Holly knew that instinctively, because the last shred of rationality she'd managed to cling to, the only part of her that was anything more than a frightened animal, was still trying to answer the question she'd been asking herself when a gust of wind had hurled her against the very same door to which she was now clinging like a gecko.

The question was: how did I get myself in this situation?

And the reason her mind had taken so long to come up with an answer was that it was desperately avoiding the voice whispering in her ear: basically, it's all your fault.

"I know that I'm giving you like zero notice, but I'd like to take a leave. I need a change of scenery."

Commander Kelp hadn't even looked up from the report in front of him: "Of course. How much do you need?"

We can't even look each other in the eyes, Holly had thought, and she hadn't been able to tell herself whether was the worst thing, that or the fact that the realization hadn’t moved anything inside her.

"Until Monday."

New Year’s Eve, for the Mud People. Maybe there was some kind of meaning in that. Somewhere deep inside herself, Holly sort of hoped so. It couldn't get any worse than the last year, considering she'd been thrown into the present only to discover that three years of her life had vanished. She'd found herself reflecting that she was in credit of New Years’s Eves. She could take one for herself... at least, to see Trouble's face without a part of herself wanting to scream.

"You’re free to take all the week. You know it's a slow time. Everyone's nicer at Christmas."

She didn't even know why she'd started dating Trouble. She only knew that they'd both dragged it out far too long to be sane, before admitting defeat. Because their relationship had been one disaster after another, ever since that damned dinner, at such a frenetic pace that the only thing they'd been able to do was keep their heads above water and try not to drown as they were tossed against the rocks. And all this because they were both too stubborn to give up. Idiots, both of them. Like schoolboys at their first crush.

"Until Monday it’s enough for me, thanks."

And so, she was out. It was only when she'd walked through the doors of Police Plaza that she'd realized what her decision meant. A ruthless reviewer – and she knew a couple of them, if needed – would have reminded her that there was nothing strange about it, that acting first and thinking later was the norm for her. But even Holly had been surprised by the extent of the mess she'd gotten herself into. A whole week – no, not a week, we're already halfway through, it's three days... yeah, as if it would make any difference! – of holidays. What. Had. Possessed. Her.

If she hadn't rushed to Trouble’s office to take it all back, it was only because of that damned pride. No, she'd asked for holidays, and now she'd have holidays. But what exactly did people do at Christmas? Holly had no idea. Last years, she'd been more than happy to cover the shift – except for the one where she'd been... busy elsewhere, and the ones where she'd been... unavailable, of course. Vague images seen on television filled her mind. Decorations. Parties. Dinners with friends. But decorating her apartment, which only she would see, seemed sadder than leaving it bare. And as for parties and dinners, Holly didn't have many friends.

Her first thought was Foaly, but she'd been talking about her trip to the Cominetto hot springs with Caballine for a month. Holly had been there once, and she still couldn't understand how anyone could pay to undergo that torture. Even if Foaly had been alone, even if he'd invited her, Holly would have thought twice before accepting. No, thank you.

N°1 would have been perfect, because the imp warlock was more than able of brightening the darkest day. It was impossible to keep a grudge for more than a few minutes when N°1 was around. Too bad he was in Atlantis for a seminar.

Mulch... Holly had shivered. It was true that the agency was closed for holidays, but the dwarf's idea of fun and relaxation was like, totally opposed to hers. She knew she would need a second week of holidays to recover from the trauma.

She could spend those days sleeping... but it was a while that sleeping was no longer as comforting as it once had been. Better than the alternative, but it didn't improve her mood. No, out of the question.

Who was left? Artemis, of course. And it was weird that she hadn’t thought of the Mud Boy first, since he had been the one to invite her to spend the holidays with him, just a few weeks earlier.

Actually, Holly knew why. That invitation had been... embarrassing.

"Holly."

"Morning, Mud Boy. No video today?"

"No, no video." And even without seeing his face, she knew he was grinning. "I'm showering and I don't think you’d like to subjected to that..."

Holly blushed, which was a problem, because she had activated the video and Artemis could see her perfectly. She had hoped her complexion would hide the blush, but with that Mud Boy and his sharp eyes, there wasn't much hope. And besides, she didn't know what had made her blush. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd seen Artemis with barely any clothes on.

Of course, he could be pulling her leg, and Holly wouldn't have been surprised, but she was reasonably sure that at least this time he was telling her the truth. She could hear the water running under Artemis' words. It had happened after about ten minutes of them catching up on each other's lives: Artemis had picked up where he'd left off last time, complaining about the costume party his mother had thrown, and – as for Holly – the very fact that she hadn't contacted him for help would have told Artemis that everything was going reasonably well in the Lower Elements. As for her daily routine, Holly had lied. She was getting pretty good, though there was no telling if she was actually good enough to fool Artemis. Still, the Mud Boy hadn't raised any objections. That was when the proposal had come.

"If you don't have any other plans, we'd love it if you would like to spend New Year's Eve with us."

Unfortunately, Artemis must have moved just as he spoke, because the sound of the water had doubled in intensity, drowning out his words.

"What?"

"I said Minerva and I’d love it if you would like to spend New Year's Eve with us."

"Can't you turn the water down a bit?" Holly lamented. "I can't hear a thing you're saying."

And then, out of the blue, a feminine chuckle came: "The water stays as it is, Captain."

Minerva? "Artemis, what's Minerva doing in the shower with you?"

“I don't know,” the girl replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think I'm even doing in the shower with A... hhh!... rte... mhhh...?”

Holly had hastly hanged up, her face a shade of beetroot red that would have been the envy of the the late Commander Root. She had never known that Artemis had shaken her head as she withdrew her hand inside the panels of the shower: “Sometimes I wonder if you're really the mature one...”

A fully dressed Minerva had looked at her from above her upturned nose: “If Holly knows so little about you to think our little scene plausible, that's her problem, not mine.”

Insolence and zero remorse. Artemis had chuckled: “I can agree with that, but what do you think are the chances of her showing up now?”

“It depends.”

Artemis had nodded: “Upon how serious is the matter that she's lying to us about.”

“Yes. And whether or not sh enjoys watching.”

“Minerva!”

“Back again,” Trouble had observed. “Changed your mind?”

Once, Holly would have laughed. Not anymore. Not after what had happened.

“I need something else.” She had taken a deep breath. You wouldn’t have guessed she was in her eighties at that moment: “…a visa for the surface.”

It spoke volumes about the state of things between them that Trouble had handed it to her without a word.

She was still thinking about that conversation as she flew over the south of France. She had turned off helmet notifications, preferring to focus on the air whistling past her face, imagining it snatching her thoughts away, stretching them behind her like a comet’s tail. If she hadn’t, she might have noticed the icon flashing crimson in the corner of her HUD. An icon meaning that the LEP had forbidden all flights over Central Europe due to adverse weather. She realized it just as the bizzard hit.

Of all the fairies, only trolls – if one counts them as such – tolerate the cold. And Holly, in particular, hated ice. The Arctic incident three (six, by the rest of the world) years prior would have been unpleasant even if it hadn't involved a goblin uprising, a radioactive train, and the loss of a finger, and now she had found herself in the midst of a blizzard. And "in the midst of a blizzard" wasn't a euphemism: the engine did little to counteract the fury of the storm, and gusts of wind grabbed her wings, only to send her spiraling ten meters higher, breathless.

The snow slid away, losing its grip on her helmet, yet Holly doubted it would have made much of a difference. All she saw was white, white and white. She had given up trying to distinguish up from down, left from right, relying solely on the navigator. She'd already narrowly avoided crashing into a building. Twice.

The icon in the corner of her HUD beeped furiously to get out of there, but Holly ignored it – I think I get it, thank you very much – preoccupied as she was with more pressing matters. For example, the chill she felt sinking into her bones with every second. Which, theoretically, should have been impossible. The Shimmer Suit should have been completely isolated. I'll give Foaly a good dressing down on his donkey ears, the elf had noted. But that thought was immediately followed by another one: assuming I’ll even surbive today.

Holly had tried to push it back from where it had come from, but it steadily returned with every gust of wind that kicked her upward, with every whirlwind that made her lose altitude. After a fight with a troll and being impaled by a demon (it never happened), was this how she would end? Like a rookie on her first surface mission, just because she hadn't checked the weather?

And that's probably what it would have happened, if the Swallow 1.1 wings hadn't been equipped with an autopilot linked to the helmet's tracker. One moment Holly had felt her eyes closing, the next she'd crashed into a wooden door at twenty kilometers per hour. It should have hurt like hell. Instead, she had felt nothing. It wasn't a good sign, not at all but – at least from the cheerful, incongruous beeping of her helmet – she was supposed to have reached her destination.

A part of Holly had realized in that moment that she had no idea what had happened to her bag. Maybe she had lost it in the storm, and by now some Mud People were discovering the existence of the People from her underwear. The idea should have worried her, but instead it was just a small thought in the corner of her mind. She had stared at the door for a second, two, the icy cold seeping into her bones and making so difficult to stay focused – to stay awake – before her brain had realized that Artemis had no way of knowing she was there.

"Artemis! Artemis!"

Why don't you just let go, Captain Short?, a little voice inside her head had whispered. You're alive only because a Mud Boy had been too stubborn to let you die (it never happened), and smart enough to pull it off. Basically, you're a mistake. Why not give up? It's not the worst way to go.

It was a so soothing voice. And it was true that Holly was tired. Tired of fighting and, deep down, tired of something deeper. And maybe she really would have taken the voice's advice, curled up on the steps and closed her eyes, if a particularly violent gust hadn't sent her crashing back into the door. She jad hit the wood so hard that her head thumped inside her helmet, but the blow also restored the clarity she needed.

The totalsensor, you idiot!

The totalsensor, right. It had seemed like it would take forever to move it. Her fingers no longer responded to her commands, forcing her to twist her entire wrist. "Artemis!" she shouted. She begged.

She didn't bother checking if on the other side communication was open. She didn't try to clear through her fogged-up visor whether her fists were hitting the bell the name written upon she couldn't read or not. She didn't even care if she was still shielded. She just knew she couldn't stop, or she would die.

She pounded on the door, screamed into the wind, not even worried that any humans might see her. There simply wasn't room in her brain for such thoughts. She heard her own voice, felt her own limbs moving, and that meant she was still alive, that she had to keep going.

Artemis would save her. Artemis wouldn't let her die. Holly knew that instinctively, because the last shred of rationality she'd managed to cling to, the only part of her that was anything more than a frightened animal, was still trying to answer the question she'd been asking herself when a gust of wind had hurled her against the very same door to which she was now clinging like a gecko.

The question was: how did I get myself in this situation?

And the reason her mind had taken so long to come up with an answer was that it was desperately avoiding the voice whispering in her ear: basically, it's all your fault.

Now, though, Holly recognized that voice. It was Artemis’.

How funny, was her last thought as her eyes closed, to die with the words of a Mud Boy.

She didn't realize she'd never hit the steps. Before she could, the door had opened, and slender, elegant hands – pianist hands, humans called them – had caught her in mid-air.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: THE MYTH OF ARISTOPHANES

“Does that happen to be the new LEP winter uniform, Captain Short? You are truly eye catching, you look like a marshmallow.”

Minerva had predicted those exact words from Artemis, but Holly still felt her cheeks burning. “Noted,” the French girl had cut down her protests. “But this isn’t exactly a boutique. In fact, you can consider a veritable miracle that out of my closet has come something you don’t wade in, because if you think I’m going to let you walk around in a sweatshirt and leggings after you’ve recovered from severe hypothermia, you’re sorely mistaken. You can thank Aunt Morgana and her abstruse concept of what’s fashionable among teenagers these days, oui?”

And Holly couldn’t but admit that the sweater was wonderfully warm. If only it hadn’t been so fuzzy. And so pink.

“Can we talk about anything else, please?”

That was a grave mistake. Holly realized it the moment those mismatched eyes lost all their warmth, turning as cold as the blizzard raging outside the window. It was difficult to look down at someone while being at the bottom of the stairs they were in, but somehow Artemis managed. Perhaps because, despite the three steps she had on him, they were still the same height.

And then those lips, pressed into a thin line, parted: “Have you told her?”

For a moment, the elf thought his voice sounded a tiny bit less harsh than she had expected. The reason became clear a moment later: those weren’t words meant for her.

“Certainement .”

“Have you threatened her?”

“Oui.”

“Thank you.” Eyes shifted to Holly: “Then I have nothing more to say but this.”

A moment later, a sudden, burning pain spread across the elf's cheek, so sharp and unexpected that she staggered backward, and it was only because Minerva's legs that she didn't fall flat on her bottom. It took her a moment to realize what had happened.

Artemis had slapped her.

Holly's heart pounded in her throat. Artemis had never hit her. Never. Not when she had been his prisoner. Not even when she had punched him first. It was then that she realized what should have been clear from the very first moment: Artemis wasn't angry. Artemis was scared to death.

Perhaps that slap was deserved. For sure it was the disappointment in his mismatched eyes, and she knew it, and she accepted it for what seemed like ages, not looking away, until a hand reached out to haul her to her feet.

"Now we can talk about something else, Captain."

"Drink it. All of it."

Minerva had announced she would take advantage of the warmed-up bathroom to wash her hair, a not-so-subtle excuse to leave her alone with Holly. For her, at least. Holly had probably bought it. At another time, Artemis might have laughed at the suspicious look the elf gave at the tea cup she had offered her. She knew it wasn't that Holly didn't trust her, no. It was her culinary skills that she had some – not entirely unfounded – reservations about.

But Artemis didn’t feel like laughing. Holly could have died. She could have died again. Perhaps that infuriating fairy didn't realize how close she had come to death, but Artemis did. Two more minutes would have been enough for her and Minerva to need a full hospital setup just to try bringing her back. The alternative would have been to shove her head into a pot of snow, inject her heart with glucose, stick her in the freezer, and hastily call N°1. Easier than it seemed, certainly easier than when she had brought Butler back from the dead – N°1 was at least an order of magnitude more powerful than any other fairy warlock, and both Artemis and Minerva had a direct line to him – but not the kind of thought she liked to dwell on.

Artemis had never felt like this before. Butler had taken a bullet meant for her; the blame for his death rested entirely on her shoulders. And Minerva's had been a tragic accident. In both cases, Artemis had been so devastated that she had had to call forth all her strength to keep the clarity she needed for what she had to do. This time, it was different. Artemis, thanks to the backdoors she'd placed in the People computer system after Foaly had so foolishly tried to have a look into her computer, had access to all the LEP weather satellite reports. Useful when she had to decide whether to take an umbrella before leaving the house, and useful for knowing what had popped into Holly's head. Because Artemis saw two possibilities: either the the elf had not seen the warning, or she had deliberately chosen to ignore it. Either way, she had been stupid.

Artemis depised stupidity. In her eyes, there was no sin so great as disrespecting someone's own intelligence. If she still felt guilty for Butler's death, it was because it was her naivety that had caused it. A feeling that however implied that now she would have to extend her contempt to Holly as well. And while the rational part of her brain rejected the idea entirely – the elf was one of her best friends, and she owed her more than her life – a small, angry voice somewhere in her limbic system shouted a surprisingly loud yes, yes, and yes.

It was one of the reasons she had preferred to entrust Holly to Minerva's care. The other girl didn't have the complex relationship with the elf that Artemis had, a relationship of gratitude and guilt in equal measure, a relationship in which – for all her genius – she had never quite understood what she meant for Holly. Minerva was less involved. Had she felt the need to hiss at Holly to get a grip, she would have done it no more and no less than with any other patient she encountered during her volunteer work for the Red Cross, without her conscience coming back to bite at her as it would have with Artemis. And, speaking of which, Holly had no idea what an act of mercy it had been on Artemis' part to leave a five-fingered handprint on her check. Because she might never have quite understood what she meant to Holly, but she knew her well and was certain that – had she vented her rage at her – her words would have hurt the elf way more than the brief stinging pain from her hand had.

And then there was the elephant in the room, and it was that all those problems shouldn't have even existed because Holly wasn't supposed to be there at all. It was true that her and Minerva had invited the elf to spend New Year's Eve with them... but not like this. Not without any warning. Not with Artemis who, after leaving her bag by the entrance, had to rummage around for makeup remover. Not without a plan ready. As she hastly wiped away mascara and eyeliner from her eyes, Artemis couldn't have helped but wonder why it couldn't be as easy as it had been with Minerva, or even just with Butler and Juliet. Of course, genius she was, and she knew the answer: because Butler and Juliet had known her since she was born, and for Minerva... well, Minerva was unique. With Holly, it was different. They had saved each other's lives more times than one hand could count, but how much time had they actually spent together in the four years (seven by the rest of the world) they had known each other? Two weeks? Less? So yes, the idea had been to use those holidays to come out with her, but when the elf hadn't followed up, the plan had been dumped. And now here she was, sitting across from Artemis, balanced on the arm of the sofa with a cup of tea in her hands, as if nothing had happened. Infuriating, indeed.

She followed those mismatched eyes – the same colours as hers, and yet so different – as they trailed the PowerBook screen with a curious glare: "What is it?"

Artemis didn't bother checking the monitor. She knew what she would find there: "Martello Tower (1), three kilometers from Kilmore. There are fascinating legends about it."

Holly's eyes tinged with a hint of concern. Understandable, to be fair. The last time Artemis had been interested in fascinating legends, she had saved the entire demon race from extinction. And the time before that, Holly had ended up in a cellar in Fowl Manor.

“Human legends, Holly. Things that happened – if they even happened – a century ago at most. Nothing involving the People.” At another time, Artemis might have been more than happy to offer a thorough explanation, but just as she didn’t feel like laughing, she wasn’t in the mood for explanations either. If anything, she thought as yet another unread message icon beeped on the screen, there is someone else in need of one.

“Here, do me a favor,” she said, pushing Holly’s helmet toward her. “Update our equine friend before he panics and sends an entire Retrieval team after you. Flooding me with emails won’t change the facts.”

Artemis obviously missed half the ensuing conversation, but she still managed to get a pretty good idea of it from Holly’s faces. Now, for instance, she was grimacing. Foaly must have shouted in her ear the very moment she’d put the helmet on. Holly!, the girl imagined, and then filled in the rest based on the content of the emails: You're alive! The Mud Boy told me a crazy story about you getting caught in a blizzard, and there are very strange signals coming from the ShimmerSuit. Holly looked at her, tugging at the hem of her sweater quizzically. Precisely. Washing machine, Artemis mouthed, and the elf nodded and reported, along with reassurances that whatever the Mud Boy had said was true, that she was alive, at Minerva's house, she wasn't a prisoner, there was no need to send anyone, especially not Trouble, say hi down in Haven, kisses, goodbye.

Holly set the helmet down and looked at her like she was expecting something. Probably some sarcastic remark about Foaly, as she was used to. But Artemis believed her chances of coming up with a witty enough comment to meet her standard no higher than 45%, so she chose to remain silent, simply staring back at her.

Not the best choice, evidently – which hardly surprised her: when had she ever been good with people? – because the elf's eyes began to scrutinize her in turn, as if... well, to hell with the as ifs, she knew Holly and what she was doing... she was trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

But there was a blink and that concern was put aside, as the elf's eyes widened in an entirely different kind of epiphany: “D’Arvit! Artemis, your hair is loose! And... – her gaze trailed down to her chest – you’re dressed normal!”

Artemis had swore to banish emotion from her face, at least until she had figured out what to do with Holly, but it was a futile attempt the moment Minerva was even tangentially involved. She brushed two fingers against the collar of her sweater, and felt a small smile slid across her lips. She knew from experience that it would be no use to wipe it away: “A gift from Minerva. Do you like it?”

Juliet had once called her a cartoon character, for the way she always dressed and did her hair the same way. Artemis had been both annoyed and pleased: yes, Juliet, that's exactly the point. I want people to feel uncomfortable in my presence. I want them to be afraid of me. For Holly, though, that was simply the way Artemis had always looked. It was seeing her out of her suit, in a cream-coloured sweater and with her hair loose, that disconcerted her, because the Artemis she knew refused to show herself like that, if only she could. All things considered, the girl reflected with a hint of cynicism, if these holidays are bound to be a shock for her, it’s worth begining.

It took Holly a few moments to function like a normal human – or, more accuratetly, elf – being again: "Yes. It suits you. I'd say that suits you better than this suits me," she added, tugging at her sweater again. "But that wouldn't be much of a compliment, would it?"

The smirk was on Artemis' lips again, but not for the reasons Holly might have thought. It was true, in the sweater Minerva had given her – cotton candy pink and several sizes too big – the elf looked like a marshmallow, but what had made Artemis grin was the twinkle in Minerva's eyes when she'd expressed that thought, which had told her she must have felt the same way. Not that it was anything new, no – they were just like that, the two of them – but it didn't make her heart fluttering any less for that feeling that they called love for short, but which to lump with what their peers swore one day and forgot the other was insulting.

Whatever her reasons, Artemis' voice sounded amused – if a bit sarcastic – as she set about explaining to Holly that, with Minerva nearly twice her height and at least four times her weight, she could consider a veritable miracle that out of the girl’s closet had come something she didn’t wade in.

She realized halfway through the second sentence that Holly wasn't listening. Her eyes were fixed on her left hand, and for the third time, Artemis smiled. For the third time, because of Minerva. She let the smile stretch her lips, slow, lazy, and almost condescending, a smile that said "glad you finally noticed it" without any words, and stretched a couple of seconds of dramatic silence before confirming the elf's thoughts with a: “Ah. That. Yes” that was a true masterpiece of nonchalance.

She saw Holly swallow, her eyes fixed on the electrum band on her ring finger. "Are you..." the elf whispered, as if she was afraid to say it out loud, and for a moment Artemis toyed with the idea of saying yes, just to see what would happen. But, as much as some argued otherwise, she wasn't heartless: "It's just an engagement ring, Holly. A mere formality. In fact, we've been a couple since July."

From the elf's face, it was clear that she thought these mere details: "I can't believe it. When did it happen?"

Artemis pretended to think about it: "When did it happen? I’d say, right under your nose. Remember the masquerade? While you were keeping an eye on N°1, Minerva and I were upstairs, exchanging rings (2).”

“...D’Arvit.”

At another time, Artemis might have continued to tease Holly. Suggest her to vary her vocabulary a bit. Or ask her if the Mud People History and Behavior: A Systematic Approach course she knew the elf was taking was really worth the time, if she let such a detail slip. But just as she didn't feel like laughing or explaining, he wasn't in the mood for teasing either. It was time for answers.

She leaned forward, rested her chin on her fingers, and asked: “So, my dear Holly. It's weird, chatting like this, isn't it? Usually, when we met, the world needs saving.”

It was objectively true, and the elf chuckled.

“But the fact that you still have to mention anything leads me to believe that it’s not the case. So, what had you suddenly accept my invitation? Because honestly, after the prank we played on you, I admit I’m a bit surprised to see you here. In a happy way, don’t get me wrong, but surprised nonetheless.”

Holly grimaced, and Artemis knew she’d won once again. She’d caught her off guard, and a few seconds wouldn’t be enough to come up with a satisfactory excuse (for Holly, that is, because Artemis wouldn’t be fooled by anything she might say). And indeed, the elf averted her gaze and, realizing the futility of her efforts, spilled it: “Nothing, really. I just needed a change of scenery. Things between me and Trouble haven’t been going… great, lately. Or even well.”

For her part, Artemis simply nodded.

“You don't seem surprised.”

The ice-cold twelve-year-old who had kidnapped Holly four (seven by the rest of the world) years prior would have parroted her – especially not Trouble. But Artemis liked to think she'd matured a bit in those four years: “I haven't. I never expressed my doubts to you, because it was not my place to talk, but I figured it might end up this way. I never really liked him, and you know it.”

“Can I... ask why?”

Artemis imperceptibly raised a brow. And what was this, some form of masochism she wasn't aware of? Actually, no, she corrected: after all, Holly had always been quite prone to masochism. All their adventures together proved it. Now, Artemis could have gone on for hours insulting Trouble Kelp, starting with his laughable performance during the siege of Fowl Manor, and for a moment the idea crossed her mind. But Holly didn't deserve it.

“Nothing personal. He's an excellent soldier and an inept commander. Good at following orders but terrible at giving them. He should have stayed and done what he knew, not been promoted, because he’s not worth an inch of Root. And I always thought you deserved better than a doormat of a man.”

Holly was silent for a moment. “You know, weird as it is, that's exactly what I needed to hear.”

Twelve-year-old Artemis would have parroted back weird with her vampire grin. An older Artemis refrained from humiliating her, but that didn't mean she spared her a satisfied grin inside her mind. Of course that was what Holly had needed to hear. She knew her better than the elf thought. Holly didn’t want to be pitied, but to hear another voice confirm that she had done the right thing.

"I suppose you and Commander Kelp met a couple of times at the Officers' Club and then started dating almost by chance, right?", she said, with an indifference that wasn't feigned at all. She really couldn't have cared less about Trouble Kelp. It was Holly she cared about.

The elf nodded.

Artemis had expected something like this: "One day you'll find the elf, or the gnome, or the sprite for you, Holly. Personally, I'd draw the line at the dwarf, but if it makes you happy... What matters is, when it happens, that it's someone you see as your equal. Someone you actually want to spend your life with, and not because you like the idea of being a couple. Nothing more, nothing less.”

On the one hand, that discussion was almost paradoxical, an eighteen-year-old (or fifteen-year-old, depending on how you counted them) giving a lecture about love to an elf four times her age. On the other, Artemis didn't think false modesty suited her, and she had found the love of her life, and Holly hadn't. So perhaps she had a point.

"Like you and Minerva?"

"Like me and Minerva, yes."

"How did it happen?"

No one had ever asked her that before. Probably because it had been obvious, and if anything, the question should have been: how could it not have happened? But Holly wasn't Minerva, whom a glance was enough to understand everything. And Artemis knew she didn't have an easy answer for her. Or rather, she didn't have a answer the elf could understand. No sentence could explain that, behind blond curls and green eyes, she had found herself.

No, Artemis didn't have an easy answer for Holly. Which didn't mean she didn't have an answer at all. Since language was born, humans had explained the inexplicable through myth.

"Let me tell you a story, Captain Short: in the age of the ancients, the world was shapeless, shrouded by fog (3), and the appearance of humans was different from today. Their bodies were circular..."

"Circular? Like, round? How?"

"Two faces on one head, four arms and as many legs. Or, you can imagine them however you like, it doesn't matter."

Holly stared at her skeptically: "That’s not a true story, is it?"

“No, it is not. It's from Plato's Symposium. And now, if I may...”

The elf made a gesture as if she were double-locking her mouth and throwing away the key.

“Thank you very much. These human beings were powerful and arrogant, so much so that they attempted to scale Olympus, the mountain where the gods dwelt. Zeus, king of the gods, was frightened at the sight and used his lightnings to split them, making of each human a couple. Thus halved, men lost much of their strength, and, torn from their other half, most decided to starve. If humans went extinct, there would be no one left to offer sacrifices to the gods, so Zeus inspired men with the desire to find their lost counterpart. And this longing for ourselves is what's called love.”

There was a moment of silence as Holly meditated about the story: “And you found it in Minerva,” she said finally.

“And I found it in Minerva,” Artemis confirmed.

“Minerva said…” the elf began, before abruptly stopping. Something she clearly thought she should keep to herself.

Too late: for the first time since Holly had fallen from the sky, Artemis’ question was motivated by nothing more than genuine curiosity: “Has Minerva said something?”

“Yes, well, no…”

Very eloquent, Captain Short, was probably written on Artemis’ face, because Holly sighed: “I asked her why she doesn’t call you Arty like me, your mother, and Juliet do, but she understood something else, and she said something like you’re like a squad of knights or a fleet of ships. It didn’t feel like much of a compliment.”

Artemis settled back in her seat, satisfied. She didn't need to ask what Minerva understood of the elf's question: "It is, when you think that she considers Sappho the greatest poet ever, and that one of her most beautiful poems."

Holly's eyes flickered over her shoulder, a glint of uncertainty in her gaze: "Can you repeat it?"

''Οἰ μὲν ἰππήων στρότον, οἰ δὲ πέσδων οἰ δὲ νάων φαῖσ’, ἐπὶ γᾶν μέλαιναν ἔμμεναι κάλλιστον, ἔγω δὲ κῆν’ ὄτ- τω τις ἔραται (4).”

“Ah. It’s… beautiful,” the elf admitted after a moment, her eyes returning to hers with obvious difficulty.

“Yes, it is. And do you know how it ends?”

Holly shook her head.

“Tᾶς κε βολλοίμαν ἔρατόν τε βᾶμα κἀμάρυχμα λάμπρον ἴδην προσώπω ἢ τὰ Λύδων ἄρματα κἀν ὄπλοισι πεσδομάχεντας (5).”

The echo of the last word had not yet died away when a hand slipped over her eyes: "Coucou, Artemis."

The girl let a grin curve her lips once again, spreading up to the eyes the fingers covered. She knew Holly had expected – hoped – to see her flinch. But she was to be disappointed: the tea Artemis cupped in her hands hadn't even waved. And why should it? Even if the persistent glance over her shoulder hadn't told Artemis everything she needed to know, even if she hadn't been able to recognize the touch of that hand and that playful voice, who else could it be but Minerva?

"I thought – she said with feigned indifference, raising the cup to her lips – I had expressed the desire to admire you, not the other way around."

Minerva didn't miss a beat: "Then you'll have to live with your disappointment, Artemis. I'm too tired for captivating steps. We’ll have to make do with this, oui?"

The hand moved from her eyes in time for Artemis to see a leg clad in gray leggings slip past her, over the edge of the couch. The other followed immediately after, and Minerva settled herself sideways on the seat, her head resting on the other girl’s lap.

Artemis sighed, feeling the tension that had accompanied her since she'd prevented Holly from falling on the steps become less oppressive with each passing moment. Her girlfriend was here, soft, warm, and smelling clean. Her friend was alive. The rest of her problems would be solved. After all, on that couch there were the two highest IQs in Europe.

“I’ll make it do. The dazzling beauty of your face is here, and that’s enough for me,” she said, brushing aside the golden curls scattered over her legs to poke Minerva’s flushed cheek. “Look at this. Vasodilation. What did you use to wash yourself? Molten lead, as usual?”

Minerva didn’t even deign helself to scorn, emphatically waiting for Artemis to remove the offending finger before speaking. “Oui, c'est ça. And not because of your comment on my article, which didn’t bother me at all.”

Artemis’ grin widened. “Oh? What did you think of it? Honestly.”

“You dare asking me?” Minerva managed to sound both languid and annoyed at the same time. Really, Artemis thought fondly, how could she not love her? “It’s know-it-all. Picky. Brutal. It’s a slap in the face to all the effort I’ve put into it. It’s an insult to research. It’s an offense to science. It’s a paquet de conneries (6) I’ll tear apart in ten minutes at most.” She paused. “I loved every single word of it.”

Artemis felt her eyelids droop as she fiddled with golden curls. Why bother raising them? She hadn’t to look at Holly to guess her expression, not when she had already seen it twice in a matter of minutes, once when the elf had noticed her new outfit an the other when she has seen her ring. It was the look she made whenever she thought she knew how Artemis would behave, and reality didn’t conform to her expectations.

That, the girl thought, was the fundamental difference between the two of them: Artemis knew Holly; Holly believed she knew Artemis. And Artemis – who had first read Sun Tzu at the tender age of five – was aware of the implications (7), which went way beyond Holly's uncertainty with an Artemis who... she supposed the correct term, or so she'd learned from Juliet, was flirted... with Minerva.

A Minerva who, for her part, seemed to be enjoying all of this immensely. She had stretched out her long legs, and if they didn't reach the end of the sofa, they were very close. In her gray clothes, her curls spread across Artemis' lap, her eyes closed, and her socks peeking out from the hem of her leggings, she looked like any other eighteen-year-old. At least until she mumbled: "What are you looking at, Captain Short?"

Artemis had to restrain herself from turning her smile into a grin. Many people – including Holly, Foaly, and, most importantly, Artemis herself – had made the mistake of underestimating Minerva Paradizo. The girl hadn't even opened her eyes.

Holly was saved by having a long list of possible answers. And yet she was betrayed by her moment of hesitation: "I'll never get used to how tall you are, Mud Girl."

Artemis saw a blond eyebrow arch. "I'm within the normal distribution curve of human height, you know."

But this was something Artemis disagreed with. Not because of the normal distribution curve of human height, which she agreed with, but because of another Sappho poem. A poem Minerva had quoted the night her life had changed forever. A poem about an apple high on the highest branch, that no one had managed to pick (8).

"No," she whispered. "Holly's right. You are tall."

Some might have thought it was a coincidence if, when she reached out to brush her cheek, her fingertips found the other girl's lips, too. They were to be deluded: Artemis never did anything by chance.

An eyelid lifted, and – as usual – Artemis found herself captivated by those green irises, the keen intelligence that shone through even when Minerva was relaxed. Eyes that, until a year prior (three by the rest of the world), she had only met in the mirror: the eyes of a genius. It was unbelievable, the effect they had on her, and to say she should have gotten used to them by now. After six months, she doubted it would ever happen. She had never felt this way around anyone before meeting Minerva, and she would never feel this way around anyone else.

The corner of those lips almost imperceptiblycurved upwards, in a smile that said Minerva had understood the meaning of both her words, her touch, and her gaze: "Trés bien. I'm tall."

Some might have mistaken for nonchalance, what was in her voice, when in reality it was dedication. And you are beautiful. Beautiful, her eyes added, and Artemis brushed her face again, and Minerva kissed her fingertips as they passed, a kiss so soft that only they would know it had been there at all.

Only then, her eyes shifted to the third occupant of the room. Artemis' followed: there was a yearning on Holly's face that she doubted the elf was aware of. It was the longing for something the two of them had, something Holly wanted but was sure she would never have, and for a moment Artemis felt the urge to grab the laptop, hack into the LEP servers, and definitively and irrevocably destroy Commander Kelp's career, because no one touched Artemis' family and lived to tell the tale.

She held back. She knew Holly, and she knew she wouldn't appreciate her thoughtfulness. She was deciding on a comment that would bring her back down to earth, not too abruptly, when she felt fingers poking her leg, from a spot where the elf couldn't see them. You've been playing bad cop all afternoon, said Minerva's green eyes, who obviously knew. It might sound be weird, from your lips. Let me handle it.

Goddess of wisdom? Artemis' mismatched eyes asked back, with a hint of amusement.

Of course, Minerva’s replied, and then, aloud: "Holly?"

In the end, it was the elf, who flinched. Some might have thought it was a coincidence, that – luckily for her – she had already finished her tea, the cup safe and sound on the coffee table. They were to be deluded: Minerva never did anything by chance.

"It was 1949 when, in this very city, the Third Geneva Convention, relative to the treatment of prisoners of war, was ratified. Violating it here would be a true crime." Minerva's smile perfectly mirrored Artemis': "So tell me, Holly: on a scale of one to ten, are you comfortable?"

For a moment, the duo saw Holly blinking, dumbfounded. Then, despite helself, the elf was forced to stifle a laugh against her forearm. “Oh. Ah ah. I get it. Because I was pisoner of both of you, wasn’t I? That’s cute. Really cute. You two are such little brats when Butler isn’t there to watch you.”

She’d put on an offended face, but this time Minerva’s smile was directed at her, and Artemis saw the elf’s frown melt away like snow in the sun. Holly might have studied hostage negotiation, but a combination of genius, a doctorate in behavioral psychology, and the company of a younger brother made Minerva far more persuasive. Some might have thought the exchange had merely served to break the ice. They were to be deluded: Artemis and Minerva never did anything by chance, and the former had perfectly understood what was going through the latter’s mind. Minerva could be as sweet and smiling on the outside as she was cold and calculating on the inside.

“It’s just that seeing Artemis – and you, I suppose – like this is… weird,” Holly admitted.

The best lies are always the ones that had a grain of truth in them, and there was a lot of truth in that one. Only, it wasn’t the whole truth, and Holly would have to do much better than that, to fool two genii.

And so Artemis settled back on the couch and went back to playing with Minerva’s curls as she watched her girlfriend working on her best friend.

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(1) From another Colfer book, Airman. It’s not the fist time it's mentioned, go read again chapter 10 of The night of Samain!
(2) See chapter 5 of Fools' Paradise - Family.
(3) Artemia plays Dark Souls? Who knows.
(4) Greek for: “Some says it's a squad of knights, others a troop of armsmen, others a fleet of ships, on the dark earth, the most beautiful thing. I, what one loves." (Sappho, fr. 16)
(5) Greek for: “Her captivating steps and the dazzling beauty of her face I'd like to see, more than Lydian war chariots and their armed soldiers." (Sappho, fr. 16)
(6) French for: "Pile of crap."
(7) Artemis is thinking about this Sun Tzu quote: "It is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles; if you do not know your enemies but do know yourself, you will win one and lose one; if you do not know your enemies nor yourself, you will be imperiled in every single battle."
(8) See Fools' Paradise - If I was your vampire.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: XOCHIYAOYOTL

Capalla, one of the People's greatest philosophers, had once written that in every day there should be something new to learn. That summer, during her visit at Fowl Manor, Holly had learnt the hard way that facing Artemis Fowl II at any game that wasn't based on sheer luck – and even about that, she had her doubts – was a fatal mistake. Unless, of course, his opponent was some Minerva Paradizo. Those two were capable of turning any game into a duel, in the truest meaning of the word: the other players' moves were quickly cannibalized into their strategies, leaving everyone else with the unpleasant feeling of having become a pawn themselves. Holly had never understood the meaning of real estate speculation until she saw Artemis and Minerva playing Monopoly.

And honestly? She was fine with that. Anything different would have meant that one of the two genii – or, given how synchronized they seemed to be, both of them – was letting her win. It would be as if she had let Artemis knock her down. Well, knock her down when she expected it, as a little voice in her head reminded. Anyone would have sensed something was amiss. It would have been humiliating. Insulting, even. No, if Holly had to choose, she'd rather they gave her no quarter.

Just as they they didn’t give any to themselves. The table had been cleared and a chessboard placed in the middle of it. It appeared to be sort of a habit for the two of them. To be fair, both Artemis and Minerva, at different moments, had suggested they did something else, but Holly had been quick to reassure them. After her impromptu falling from the sky, giving them some space was the least she could do. And anyway, the day – her near-death experience – was starting to take its toll. She would be more than content to just watch them: she kinda enjoyed the tension in the air, anyway. If eyes could shoot daggers, there would be a whole set of cutlery stuck in the walls opposing the two genii. Not to mention the way they were grinning at each other. The elf knew that look in Artemis' eyes. She knew that look in Minerva's eyes. And she knew that look in both Artemis and Minerva's eyes at the same time. But she had rarely seen that look in Artemis' eyes against Minerva's, and vice versa. Genius against genius. It was like watching two lions contending for dominance. So she had curled up in her chair and prepared for the show.

An hour later, she was wondering who had made her do it. Now she remembered why she hated chess: how anyone could find any fun in moving pieces up and down a board was beyond her understanding. A game of crunchball, that was something she could very well get. Adrenaline, camaraderie, physical exertion. Nothing Artemis and Minerva were doing made any sense to her.

Of course, both genii had noticed. Artemis hadn't said anything. And that was typical of Artemis. Minerva had tried to involve her. And that was typical of Minerva.

“I don't know, it seems so… pointless? Especially for you two. You already know who won and who lost, right?”

“Of course,” Minerva nodded. “Me. Seventeenth move. The knight, oui? I was reckless, and now I pay the price of it.”

“Then why...?”

“My dear Holly,” the girl said as she swiftly captured Artemis' queen – the elf saw him concede the point with a small nod: “Sure, I may claim defeat. But, at some point, the scope of the game is no longer victory. It's making Artemis’ an hard-earned one.”

True to her word, Minerva lost, but not without a fair number of black pieces piling up at her side. And, in the next game, she beat him in six moves. Holly whistled.

"All that glitters is not gold, Holly," Artemis warned.

"But it contains free electrons (1)," Minerva added, and surprise added to the elf's confusion when Artemis laughed. She had never heard him laugh before. Never. Not even that summer, when she had tried to tickle him: once the moment of shock had passed and he had understood what was happening, Artemis had completely stopped struggling, lying helpless under her hands. The reason was soon clear: Holly had tried one after another ears, armpits, hips, belly, even the backs of his knees, without managing to elicit even a shiver out of him. Meanwhile, that vampire grin grew wider and wider, until the elf had thrown her arms into the sky, defeated: "You're not human, Mud Boy!"

It was a beautiful laugh, his. As if all the bells in the world had started chiming at once. Holly found herself wanting for more, and almost jumped when Minerva's voice broke the spell: "That is, I just gave Artemis an Ender Wiggin moment." She went on without pausing, as if she knew those words meant nothing to Holly. "You perhaps remember how this summer I mentioned Ender's Game as a novel whose protagonist reminded me of Artemis (2), oui? In the first pages, Ender is insulted by a classmate; to insult him, however, he uses a trick Ender himself had discovered first, so Ender can't help but grin, because that means he’s unwittingly paying homage to him."

Holly blinked: "And...?"

"The opening I used is called the Bashkir Maneuver. Guess who invented it?"

The elf's eyes shifted to Artemis, who was looking at her over intertwined fingers, that vampire grin dancing on his lips. "So, by winning like that... it's basically like you complimented him?" she ventured.

Minerva's smile perfectly mirrored Artemis': "Precisely."

It was almost terrifying, the perfect synchronicity with which the same expression had appeared on both sets of lips, and suddenly Holly understood what Artemis had meant with his story. And it was weird that it had taken her so long, because really, it was so obvious. There they were, mirror images one of the other, and even though she had been the one to exchange an eye with Artemis, for a moment it looked like it were Artemis' mismatched ones and Minerva's green ones to be the exact same. It's the kind of realization that comes slowly, and then you get it all in an instant. Just like that fateful date. At first, nothing had seemed out of ordinary. They had started dating after she had come back from Hybras, and if Trouble had acted any different, Holly had thought that it was to be expected, that the time stream had took her just a few hours, but three years for him, and now he was Commander, with all the responsibilities that entailed.

Sure, the restaurant was a little fancier than usual, but nothing truly shocking or that made her think Trouble had anything in his mind. It wasn't that with his commander's salary he couldn't afford it (after a debate that was frankly too long and at the same time not long enough, they'd finally agreed upon the one who invited also paid).

The first clue should have been how nervous Trouble had seemed, and that was so not Trouble, but Holly hadn't picked up on it (after taking so long to understand the story Artemis had told her, she was actually considering she might have a problem with these things as whole). After that, he had gone on beating around the bush for half an hour, and that, too, was very un-Trouble-like, but by then it was Holly who was starting to feel uneasy, and she had completely missed the point (yup, she most definitely had a problem). And then he'd started singing her praises, and from being uneasy, Holly had begun to feel vaguely nauseated, as if her stomach had reached conclusions her brain had yet to get.

And then there had been that confession, and d'Arvit, no, she didn't want to think about that confession, she wanted to bury it so deeply that a Mud Whelp digging with a toy shovel would have more luck in finding Haven. Holly had never felt so paralyzed in her life, a thousand thoughts racing through her head – including the fact that Trouble was theoretically her superior, even if he wasn't one to make his rank count. But if that story got out, and it would get out, she would never hear the end of it...

Holly had wanted to bury herself deep enough to reach said confession in the hole she had pushed it. She had wanted to scream. She had wanted to cry and thank Trouble for his words. She had wanted to hit him for putting her in that situation. She had wanted to act more mature, like the eighty-year-old she was. She had wanted to tell him she respected his feelings, but she only saw him as a friend. But the truth was, she had been just as bad as him. The truth was, she had – literally – run away.

Perhaps the weirdest thought she had had back then, and which she found herself thinking again right now, was that had it been Artemis or Minerva instead of Trouble, it would never have happened. They would have been tactful. They would have sensed she wasn't interested so quickly that the restaurant would have been her only clue and the suspicion of other motives would never have even crossed her mind, and then proceeded to ruthlessly review what in Haven passed for haute cuisine as if nothing had happened. They certainly wouldn't have spent the dinner unable to tear their gaze from the blue eye, the eye she had exchanged with Artemis. And, just like then, Holly suddendly wondered why she was even thinking of a date with either of the Mud Kids.

She found herself giggling nervously, and before she knew it, she had asked, "You two... are always like this?"

An exchange of glances, so quick she might well have imagined it, and then Minerva had leaned forward, looking at her with those green eyes of hers: "I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more eloquent, Holly."

And that was what the elf had feared. She had hoped the two would pick up without further explanations from her, but apparently even the genius of Artemis Fowl II and Minerva Paradizo had its limit. Or, they wanted to hear it from her lips. Sometimes she had a feeling they were omniscient, which was obviously impossible, otherwise Artemis' plan wouldn't have been the near-catastrophe that had nearly cost them all their lives, and the same was true for Minerva's.

No, they couldn't know what was going through her head. It was reassuring: “This. One moment you look like you're at each other’s throat, the next like you're about to kiss.”

Holly had seen the surprise on Minerva Paradizo's face only twice: once when N°1's garhoyle's touch had brought Qwan back to life, and then now: “Do we look like we're... at each other’s throat?”

“Maybe,” Artemis conceded. “Holly, do you know what the problem with peace is?”

Now she was the one to be perplexed: “Does peace have problems?”

“Yes, it breeds more wars.”

“We of the People have lived in peace for millennia,” Holly felt compelled to remind him.

“Of course.” Artemis stared at her with that look of his that made her feel very stupid: “The B’wa Kell revolt. Opal and her plan to bury Haven in molten iron. Abbot and his demon army.”

Holly opened her mouth... and then closed it . Of course Artemis was right. Artemis was always right, as annoying as it was. And he had only mentioned events he had been directly involved in. The elf still remembered the riots during the Spelltropy outbreak. Not to mention the Hamburg incident. The less said about the Hamburg incident, the better.

“But,” Artemis continued as if he had never been interrupted, “I’m not talking about the People, but Homo sapiens, and our species has a much wider range and a much larger population. Combined with limited natural resources, this meant that, for much of history, humans were fragmented into small groups of individuals, a good portion of whom could spend their lives within a fifty kilometers radius from where they were born. The consequence is that there had never been until recently an idea of humanity as whole, but us vs them…”

“Artemis, enough. Leave Hobbes (3) in his grave, oui? Can’t you see she’s not following you anyway?”

This, Holly thought, was one of the points she’d made sure to highlight in the report on Minerva that Vinyaya had brought to the Council on her behalf: there were some advantages in having two Mud genii around, and one was that they’d keep each other at bay. And it seemed Minerva had finally understood where Artemis was aiming to. A bit late, Holly might have said, but like, she herself was still lost.

“Let me explain it in an easier way. Do you know what xochiyaoyotl are, Holly?”

“Flower Wars?”, the elf translated.

“That’s a good example,” Artemis conceded. “Go on.”

Minerva left her chair to sit next to him: “About five hundred years ago, among the peoples who inhabited Central America, it was a common belief that the continuation of the day/night cycle was intrinsically linked to human sacrifice. That is, the sun needed blood to rise each morning. Comprends-moi?”

Holly understood, yes. Actually, she felt vaguely nauseated. Killing animals for food was bad enough, but this?

“In times of war, no problem, so to speak. But what if there were no prisoners available? The three most powerful nations established the xochiyaoyotl, fighting among themselves in ritual skirmishes whose sole purpose was to capture prisoners to feed the sun.”

Holly felt like she might throw up on Minerva’s beautiful wooden floor. The Mud People truly are monsters, was the first thought that part of her that had been fed such stories for most of her life (hearing it from Minerva’s mouth, though, had made it real) came with, before the Holly who had saved the world more times than she ought to alongside Artemis Fowl scolded her: Don’t be an idiot. Minerva said five hundred years ago, and you know what time is for Mud People. They hadn’t even invented the light bulb back then. Still, she couldn’t couldn't help but say: "It's horrible."

"For us, it certainly is. But for them? They saw no other choice. It was blood for the blood god and skulls for the skulls throne (4)", Artemis interjected, with his razor-sharp reason. "Of course, mine and Minerva’s xochiyaoyotl are only metaphorical. On our altar, the sacrifices are hypotheses and a bit of pride. But we are genii, and minds like ours don't like being left idle for too long. Like the Mesoamerican peoples, we need prisoners to feed them, we need the xochiyaoyotl. That's why we sometimes look like we are, as you said, at each other’s throat."

"Our words, our gazes, our gestures are not meant to hurt," Minerva added. “To mock each other, yes, to keep each other on our toes. But once you listen closely, what might feel like insults are actually compliments, oui? And yes, perhaps that's not how normal people love each other, Holly, but Artemis and I never were normal, and will never be. Our very intelligence prevents us from being so. We're genii, and that’s our way of being happy. Of loving each other.”

And then she put an arm around Artemis' neck, and really, Holly thought she was used to surprises by now: the loose hair, the cream-coloured sweater instead of the black suit, the ring – because Artemis could be fifteen and suddenly finding himself full of hormones, and Minerva could be a really cute Mud Girl with a brain to match his, and they could be mirror images of each other, and Artemis could have said Minerva was the love of his life, and Holly could have seen him with his head between her thighs, but the ring, no, she hadn't expected that. But she'd never seen them kiss, and she was surprised again when Artemis didn't flinch or pull away, a smile – and no, it wasn't his usual vampire grin – dancing on his lips as Minerva left a quick kiss on his cheek.

It lasted a moment, then – as if nothing had happened – the Mud Girl was pushing the board towards her: "Do you want to try?"

"Have you ever had to escort someone, Holly? The king doesn't move freely. Up, down, left or right, but only one square at time. And yet it's your job to protect him, because the moment he's captured, the game is over, oui?"

Artemis was sitting on the sofa, thinking. She was thinking about the words she herself had said a few days prior, in a café in Paris, over a poire Belle-Hélène (5). She was thinking about the words she herself had said a few days prior, because what unfolded before her very eyes was the very future she could look forward to: a life in that flat together with Minerva, their friends coming to visit them in Geneva.

Could her ten-year-old self have envisioned that one day she would be 1192 km away from Fowl Manor and the life she had grown accustomed to, watching her girlfriend as she taught her best friend how to play chess? Unlikely. She had been too busy with her desperate attemps to bring back a father she didn’t actually want, for daydreaming.

Could her thirteen-year-old self have envisioned it, the moment she had clutched the very same coin that now dangled where her collarbones met, warm against her skin? Perhaps, but Artemis doubted it. A spark of decency needed to be fueled, and that thirteen-year-old was still a criminal. A Fowl who hadn't hesitated to endanger the people she cared about most for her own gain. The Fairy Thief heist had been nothing but a bauble: true, she hadn't had the high cause – well, at least for her it was – that had driven her to steal the étoille du Kashar (6), but no one had got hurt over a painting. But, had the deal with Spiro even gone well, had the American businnesman even respected the honor among thieves, putting a tech she wasn't 100% sure of into such a man’s hands – even for just a few seconds – had been a recklessness she should never have committed, and one that nearly had had life-shattering consequences. And even after Opal's plan had been foiled, and someone Artemis knew had died and this time no amount of blue sparks could have brought him back, she still had felt the call of crime. A spark of decency wasn’t enough to light her way.

"That doesn't make any sense!" the elf protested for the umpteenth time.

Minerva laughed: "Those are the rules, Holly!"

When had she really felt the allure of a different life, the desire of clean break with her past, to leave it behind once and for all – like a snake does with its shed skin? A question she already knew the answer of. When she had entered the scene, the only child of Man to ever blaze her same path: Minerva Paradizo. The moment she had met her, they had began to dance, a dance whose steps only they knew. First around each other. Then, when they realized that their dance was reciprocated, together. Step after step after step, without her even realizing it, Minerva had lead her along paths Artemis had never even suspected existing. Because Minerva was a star, the brightest star in the night sky, and stars burned of their own hydrogen with no one fueling them, traced the route of sailors and showed the lost travelers the way home, which Artemis had so desperately needed.

The ancient peoples had not been able to find a place in the sky – a star – for Minerva. Before the father she had never wanted disappeared – when there was still room in her head for such fantasies – Artemis, hunched over star charts and mythology books, had often wondered why. Now she knew: because Minerva was not in the sky, but sitting next to her, an arm around her waist where Holly could not see that her thumb was running soothingly up and down Artemis' ribcage as she asked: "What is it?"

And it was a question they both already knew the answer to, but Artemis knew Minerva knew her desidere to say it out loud. Yes, perhaps this was not how normal people loved each other, but Artemis and Minerva had never been normal and never would be, and that was their way of being happy. Of loving each other.

Artemis relaxed imperceptibly, melthing in that soft, rhythmic caress: "You. You make me sentimental."

She didn't need to look at the television screen to see, mirrored, the affectionate gaze Minerva gave her. She felt it as clearly as the kiss that brushed her hair, as clearly as the rustle of velvet on wood when the white queen crossed the chessboard to checkmate Holly's king.

The elf's mismatched eyes sparkled. "Again," she said, and didn't specify what she meant.

_____________________________________________________________
(1) quote from J.D. Bernal, Irish physicist. Metals shine because they contain free electrons which vibrates once they come in contact with light.
(2) see Fools' Paradise - The night of Samain, chapter 7: Somatotropin
(3) Enghlish philosopher. Minerva points out how Artemis is basically parrting his homo homini lupus (human nature is egoistical, actions are determined by survival insitinct) from the Leviathan (1651).
(4) coff coff Artemis plays Warhammer?
(5) see Fools' Paradise - Hell is empty, chapter 3: Hell and Heaven
(6) see Fools' Paradise - Honour among thieves
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Chapter Text

Chapter 5: THE MARCH OF SCIENCE

It would be unfair to rank Artemis' favourites in her relationship with Minerva, considering that the girl herself doubted she would be capable of this. And no, not because of any supposed bias – Artemis was a genius, thank you very much – but because it would take up an inordinate amount of her time, would force her to invent words for concepts that belonged only to the two of them, and in the end it would be completely pointless: the only person she would ever share her list with was Minerva herself, and Minerva already knew.

And this reason would have made top of that supposed list, because people – as in, Violet Tsirblou, when she was still talking nonsense, silly girl she had been – wasted oh so many words for how enjoyable the intercourse – fucking – was, but what did they know about the intimacy of looking into each other's eyes and knowing there was no need to speak, because the other already knew what they wanted to say, better than they could have expressed it themselves? There were thousands of women and men who could make Artemis scream until she was out of breath, writhe beneath sweat-soaked sheets. Only one could see into the depths of her soul like an open door.

This was the reason why Minerva didn't make Artemis scream until she was out of breath or writhe beneath sweat-soaked sheets. Minerva respected her boundaries. She always did. And if the "may I?" was now relegated for out-of-their-everyday-life moments, any display of affection more intense than caresses and hugs, kisses and intertwined fingers, was promptly preceded by a request for consent. Often it was silent – a glance was enough to understand each other, for the two of them – but it was never amiss.

That's the reason why, when a hand moved up her chest and a leg slipped between hers, Artemis flinched.

A moment later, she relaxed. Minerva was the most intelligent person she had ever met, the only one who could compete with her. Foaly, for all his knowledge, was vain and childish, and such flaws were fatal; Opal was insane and, frankly, stupid. Their advantages lay in centuries and technology, not intellect: had she been in either’s place, Artemis could have done much better, whether to secure the Lower Elements or wipe them away. Minerva, however, had slipped into the equation without Artemis even noticing her arrival. With elegance, like everything she did. When she had looked into her eyes for the first time, what Artemis had seen were her own eyes. Minerva had not a single flaw that Artemis was not willing to acknowledge in herself.

But no matter how outstanding, not even a genius can control her own dreams, and Minerva was jdreaming. And so Artemis leaned over to kiss her blond curls and continued tapping at her laptop.

She had just found what she was looking for – was her memory eidetic? Yes. Did she know that page by heart? Yes. Did checking one more time cost her anything? No – when the hand laid across her chest and the leg between hers tensed.

D’Arvit. Artemis quickly considered the situation. She knew Minerva well enough to know that, as soon as she was awake, she would realize the pose she was in and look up at her to apologize. And, in doing so, she would end up looking straight at the monitor. Artemis wasn't, like, doing anything illegal, or even morally questionable, but at the same time she knew Minerva wouldn't appreciate it. Which was why she was tapping in the depth of the night. Under normal circumstances, it would have taken her a second to press the keys to close the window, but under normal circumstances, she didn't have Minerva sprawled upon her arm. Artemis knew how much it would take to the other girl to wake up, and that time would drop to zero had she moved that arm. And she needed two hands to close the laptop, short of some ungodly contorsion which would end up allerting Minerva anyway.

She carefully removed her hands from the keyboard. Despite having been caught red-handed, she wasn't overly worried. And not because Minerva’s sleepy state, because a Minerva at ten percent efficiency was still smarter than most, human and fairies both. But without her glasses, she wouldn't be able to read the screen. If Artemis played her cards right, she wouldn't notice anything unusual.

"Bonne... nuit (1)?" Minerva guessed. Just as Artemis had thought, her voice was clear, not sleepy at all.

She nodded: "It's four o'clock."

Minerva leaned closer, shoulder against hers. In the blue light of the screen, her eyes looked gray, and her golden hair had a tinge of platinum. “Is that Advances in Mathematics?”

Even without her glasses, she had recognized the graphic.

Artemis nodded again.

“Anything interesting? I haven’t managed to look at this month’s issue yet.”

“There are some observations on Taniyama’s twelfth problem (2). I was thinking they might be useful in your article.”

“I think I’ve already read the preprint,” Minerva said, adjusting herself closer against Artemis’ shoulder. Dark lashes fell over those eyes as she squinted to focus and her breath tickled the other girl’s neck when she exhaled through her nose. “But please, continue. I’d very much like to hear your opinion.”

And her opinion Artemis gave her, until she heard the other girl’s breathing becoming slower and regular. Her arms now free, she carefully closed the laptop and placed it next to the bed. Then her gaze returned to Minerva, the only person in the world she considered her equal. Just a few hours earlier, in that same room, instead of the quiet sound of her breathing, from her lips had came a stream of words, because Artemis wasn't the only one with a problem, and brainstorming what to do with Holly had helped Minerva distracting herself from her own. This, they both knew. That was how their relationship worked: just like when they were planning the glasses, if Artemis found a weakness, Minerva strengthened it. If Minerva found a weakness, Artemis strengthened it. Before blue eyes met green eyes in the Bellini threater, both genii would have felt somehow uneasy at the idea of someone that was their equal. Now, all they wanted was for the other to have some nice sleep.

As soon as Artemis brushed against her, Minerva adjusted herself until the other girl's back was pressed against her chest, an arm around her waist, their feet entwined together. And, this time, instead of flinching Artemis relaxed. There was nothing sensual in those gestures. It was, quite simply, the way they sometimes sleept. One that the Artemis of a year (three by the rest of the world) prior, the Artemis whose eyes were still both blue and had yet to meet green eyes to match hers, would have looked at with discomfort. But two sides of the same coin, two halves of the same whole, could not be separated.

The words Artemis mumbled had no need to be spoken aloud. They both knew them well, and they were but a pale reflection of what was between them. But she did it anyway. That girl made her sentimental.

"I love you, Minerva."

Minerva wasn't fully awake when she answered, no. But a Minerva at ten percent efficiency was still smarter than most, human and fairies both, and even without seeing it Artemis felt against her skin the smile that curved her lips: "I love you too, Artemis."

Holly thought it was quite the weird scene, the one unfolding before her eyes. Or rather, it was a scene that would have been perfectly normal, had it not involved some Artemis Fowl II and Minerva Paradizo.

The latter was sitting at the table, typing away at her laptop. And this, at least, was sort of expected from her. What had Holly blinking and wondering if she was still dreaming was Artemis, who was currently standing behind a board. And doing the ironing.

A loud whistle and a cloud of white steam brought her abruptly back to Earth. Artemis lifted a shirt, looked it over critically, and set it aside. Even more shocking was that it was perfectly ironed.

He must have sensed her eyes on him – it was impossible not to – because he shifted his gaze to her. “Something wrong, Captain?”, he asked, picking up another shirt and placing it on the board. Every move was efficient, not a single pass of the iron more than needed.

“You. Ironing.” Not the most diplomatic, really, but Holly was still trying to wrap her head around the scene.

Bar for a raised eyebrow, Artemis remained impassive. “Me doing the ironing as in, in general, or me doing the ironing without burning anything in the process? The answer to the first question, Holly, is that I can not afford going on living sheltered forever. Sooner or later, I'm bound to leave Fowl Manor, and then I might not have someone to take care of such chores for me. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever want someone. Butler won't always be at my service; I'm eighteen, and I need to learn to fend for myself. Besides, as much as a gracious host Minerva is, it wouldn't be fair to put all on her shoulders, nor I would be fine with it. The answer to your second question is that, once you understand how the device works and the physics involved, it's not that difficult.”

One sentence Artemis had said really struck Holly: I can not afford going on living sheltered forever. It was sort of true: since his birth the Fowl heir – between his mother and a bodyguard at his exclusive service – had been spoiled. But she had never heard him being so harsh with himself before, nor doing it so casually. For a moment she wondered if she should say anything, but immediately decided against it. If she knew Artemis, it was probably all some sort of sarcasm she wasn't smart enough to understand. Instead, she stood over the couch to punch him in the shoulder: "I can't believe Minerva managed to turn you into a..."

D’Arvit. Perhaps she should have thought it in advance. Such problems, of course, were beyond Artemis: "...good housewife?" he suggested.

There was a grin on his lips. It was clearly a joke, and since Holly didn’t understand it, it was probably aimed at Minerva.

But Minerva didn't answer. In fact, the elf thought, she'd been weirdly quiet for the last hour or so. Occasionally, her fingers ran across the trackpad, but mostly she just stared at the screen. Regularly, her hand reached up to adjust glasses that didn't really need adjusting.

Artemis must have followed her gaze: "Minerva," he said, and Holly felt a shiver run down her back. She knew that voice. It was the same voice he had used to make her stay in the bathtub – a cold, icy voice, that hinted at the steel Artemis had inside. And the elf had never, ever heard him used it with Minerva.

"What is it, Artemis?" The girl, on the other hand, sounded dull. Tired. Sapped of all energy.

"Stop." Words that cut like a knife.

“Is that all you have to say?” Minerva asked, without tearing her gaze from the screen.

“I don’t see what else there is to say. You’ve been beating around the bush long enough.”

Holly looked from one to the other. This wasn’t a skirmish, a... what was the word?... xochiyaoyotl. Artemis’ coldness, Minerva’s resignation... it sounded like something dragging on since long time. But they had been so nice with each other until a moment ago! And Holly was sure it wasn’t a farce, too. Artemis could never lie about that. Then what?

“Make up your mind, or I will do it in your place,” the boy continued.

That had Minerva tearing her gaze from the screen: “Just try,” she hissed, and her voice now was just as cold as Artemis’. “And I’ll kill you.”

Holly didn't doubt for a moment that she meant her words. That was the same glare she had used to make her stay in the bathtub. And the elf had never, ever saw her use it with Artemis. It was about time to pipe in: "Sorry if I butt in," she said, her voice ringing false to her own ears. "What are you talking about?"

Artemis turned to look at her: "Minerva's Abelprisen." Now it was him, the one sounding tired. "The equivalent of the Nobel Prize in mathematics (3)."

"There's no Abelprisen!" Minerva snapped. "There’s not even the article!"

"There will be," Artemis retorted. "You just have to submit it." For Holly's obvious benefit, he added: "The Τύχη, the Fates, are offering Minerva Achilles' dilemma (4), and today is the deadline for submitting papers. In half an hour, in fact."

The elf didn't even try to understand what he had said. Genii stuff. What mattered to her was that they weren't arguing for, like, a real reason. But there must have been something in Artemis’ words, because Minerva shoot up: "That's what you were doing last night! Observations on Taniyama's twelfth problem, sure. Enfoiré (5)!"

"Ah, yes. Touché," Artemis replied, unfazed by either having been caught or the brutal insult, which had startled Holly. "Are you going to submit it, now?"

"Easy for you to talk," Minerva retorted. "You've always walked under the radar, Dr. Emmsey Squire. It's not you they'll laugh at for centuries if you got this wrong."

"If you win, you're a prodigy. If you lose, then you're mad,” Artemis said with nonchalance. “That is the way history is written.”

Holly, who remembered those words, grinned. Minerva was much less impressed: “Please spare me the petty philosophy.”

“The truth, then: and it is, Minerva, that you are the most intelligent person I have ever met. The only one who could ever compete with me. You said yourself (6) that the only factors that allowed me to defeated you three years ago were my knowledge of the Book, the help of the People, and having Butler at my side. Had we been swapped, you would have come on top of me. When I met your eyes for the first time, I knew I had found the other side of my coin. You and I are the very same, Minerva. How many chances are there that we are both wrong?

Holly had held her breath as Artemis spoke. Not only because, since she had got to know Minerva better, she'd asked herself that very same question, and now Artemis had answered unequivocally; but also because she had never heard him open up lwith anyone. Not like that. Artemis was a master of lies, but his honesty was equally disarming, and Holly knew that, had he spoke to her that way, she would have found herself speechless.

Minerva Paradizo was a different beast: "In a confidence interval of p = 99 (7)?", she said, her eyes back on the screen. Not a flicker of emotion, not a flutter of heart, had passed through those green irises. It was as if she had only listened at the last sentence, leaving everything else slip away. "Not even remotely enough. And the fact that you insisted on not co-authoring with me – despite the suggestion that led me to the solution being yours – is... let’s say slightly suspicious, n’est-ce pas?

“We have already discussed this. I don't see why I should have. The only thing I said is that a solution exists (8). The proof is entirely your own doing, and it's only right that the credit goes to you. Do you want me to hold your hand?”

Holly could have cut a hair in two on the voice Minerva answered with: “What am I, some damn child?”

“Sometimes you act like one. You'll win that prize, Minerva. Even if I have to hack the committee's servers myself.”

“Don't you dare...!” she snarled. “Don't even think about it! I swear, Artemis, if I find out... If I can't win according to the rules, it means I don't deserve the prize after all.”

Artemis didn't answer this, but while they were talking, he had been maneuvering to position himself behind Minerva, and... Holly narrowed her eyes: it was hard to see through the girl's curls, but he seemed to be caressing her with his fingertips.

Minerva stiffened: "Artemis. Remove your hand from my neck."

He pretended to think about it: "What if I don't?"

"Remove. Your. Fucking. Hand. From. My. Neck."

Holly flinched, and those words weren't even meant for her. Had anyone spoken to her like that, especially if it was Minerva Paradizo, knowing what Minerva Paradizo was capable of – or rather, not knowing, which if anything was even worse – Holly would probably have chosen to swallow her usual attitude and obey. Artemis Fowl II simply raised an eyebrow: "No?"

Holly would have never imagined Minerva being able to move so fast. Her blond hair whipped through the air as she spun around, and the elf found herself thinking of a viper striking. Especially when she saw her teeth close around Artemis' wrist.

The Artemis Holly knew would have grimaced. Maybe even screamed. This Artemis didn't even flinch: "Holly, do me a favor: in the side compartment of the refrigerator... no, forget it. You wouldn't be able to reach it. I'll do that. Keep an eye on Minerva for me, would you?"

And with that, he did as to follow his own words. But his wrist still between the girl’s teeth. "Minerva," he sighed reproachfully, patting her jaw.

For a moment, Minerva narrowed her eyes at him, as if unsure whether to truly let him go. In the end, she gave up and opened her mouth.

With a grin, Artemis raised his wrist so that Holly could see. A perfect impression of Minerva's dental arch was stamped on his pale skin: "Be careful”, he said. “She bites."

His sprint toward the kitchen actually spoke volumes about his opinion of Holly’s ability to restrain Minerva, so the elf approached her with some caution. The girl greeted her with a sharp look from those green eyes. Seriously, whoever invented the expression "eyes that can kill" must have had Minerva in mind.

"Hey, I had nothing to do with this," Holly protested. "It's your boyfriend who asked me to keep an eye on you."

"So I’ve heard," Minerva said darkly. "Casse-couilles (9)."

This time the elf laughed. She was learning that Minerva could be decidedly more foul-mouthed than Artemis (and to think that she was supposed to be the refined young lady here...).

"So, what is it?" she asked, pointing at the screen.

"Do you really want to know?"

Holly nodded, which was more or less the truth. She had asked because her experience with Artemis had taught her that the best way to keep a genius busy was to submit to their lectures, but she also had a genuine interest to know what was behind all that excitement. At the risk of not understanding a thing.

Minerva looked like she knew exactly what was going on in her head, but had nevertheless decided to indulge her. She adjusted her glasses on her nose: “Très bien. Since long time, men have known that there are positive integers satisfying the x²+y²=z² equation, lsuch as 3²+4²=5², which gives 9+16=25. That’s the Pythagorean theorem – I don't know what name the People have for it. It's used to calculate the lenght of the sides of a right triangle: the area of the square that sits on the hypotenuse – the side opposite to the right angle – is equal to the sum of the areas of the squares on the other two sides. Still with me?”

The risk of not understanding a thing had been calculated, but man, Holly sucked at math. There wasn't much room for geometry in a policewoman's life, and she had had to rummage through her school memories – almost seventy years prior, for Frond's sake! – but she had heard something along the lines of that back then. She nodded.

“Good,” said Minerva, which wasn't good at all, because it meant that things would only get more difficult from now on. And they did: “But what happens if you raise the value of the exponentials? What if instead of having x² + y² = z² you have xⁿ + yⁿ = zⁿ? Apparently, positive integer solutions no longer exist. Apparently, but science has little use for appearances, oui? It’s a proof, that it cares for: a daunting task... except that, in 1637, a French mathematician wrote in the corner of a book cuius rei demonstrationem mirabilem sane detexi. Hanc marginis exiguitas non caperet (10).”

Holly whistled. “I thought such low blows were exclusive to you and Artemis.”

“Unfortunately for mathematics, that’s not the case. Various solutions have been proposed, but they’re all based on models that weren’t yet known in the seventeenth century. For three hundred and fifty years, Fermat’s Last Theorem remained an enigma.”

“Until now,” Artemis piped in, sliding a glass of what must have been white wine towards Minerva. The glass was covered in condensation, and it distorted her face as she shot him another killing glare.

Artemis simply grinned his vampire smile.

Minerva seemed to weight her options for a moment, then whispered something Holly understood as “to hell with it” and gulped down the wine in one go. Without even glancing at the screen, she pressed a key combination and then leaned back on the chair, eyes closed. From the other end of the apartment came the sound of a printer starting up.

Without a word, Artemis walked toward the source of the sound. Holly glanced at Minerva, but her porcelain-doll face was inscrutable. In contrast, Artemis, when she was back, was smiling. And this time it wasn't his vampire smile.

"Minerva. Finally," he said, leaning down to wrap his arms around her shoulders. Holly thought it was one of the few times he could do so, when she was sitting down. Otherwise, he was forced to stand on tiptoe. "The sidelines were not a place for you."

"Shut up," Minerva complained into his hug. “That was hust the submission. It still has to be accepted, pass peer-review, and even then there will be other contenders.”

“As if they could even hope to come close to you.”

“Artemis,” the girl protested weakly, but she was smiling now.

Meanwhile, Holly had leaned over to read the printout Artemis had left on the table: THIS IS AN AUTOMATED EMAIL, PLEASE DO NOT REPLY. Dear Paradizo Minerva, thank you for for your “A Historically Accurate Solution to Fermat’s Last Theorem” submission to Advances in Mathematics. Your article will be…

The rest was reassurances about a prompt response, which the elf decided she didn’t care abour. When she had casually asked Minerva what she did for a living, the girl had shrugged nonchalantly: "I work at CERN – you know what that is? Conseil européen pour la recherche nucléaire. Phylotes. Rusakov particles (11). Time machines." After seeing Holly's expression, she had quickly clarified that she was joking and that they weren't even close to a time machine "beyond a few proposals that are extremely difficult to implement and, frankly, of little use."

Thank goodness. Holly knew she was being unfair to Minerva, and Artemis too, but those two had a real talent for getting into trouble, and as far as she knew numbers have yet to kill anyone. And if Minerva had worked hard for that, she deserved recognition.

"I think I understood like a quarter of what happened today," she began, moving closer. "But I think congratulations are due, Mud Girl."

“Holly, please,” the other lamented, but graciously accepted Holly’s hug… or at least, a hug would have been there had Minerva not been so damn tall. Holly already had to bend her head backwards to look Artemis in the eyes, but Minerva towered over him. The elf barely reached her hips, and she would look like a koala clinging to a eucalyptus tree while hugging her. Even with Minerva sitting, awkwardly wrapping her arms around her chest was the best Holly could manage.

“I believe celebrations are in order, Minerva?” Artemis asked.

The girl looked at him. “We believe different things, but I don’t see how I could stop you, even trying. And I thought you hated celebrations.”

If it was supposed to be a jab – Holly wasn't sure – Artemis didn't flinch: "The ones my parents organize? Sure. Something intimate with you and Holly? That's a different thing."

“I still see much ado for nothing,” Minerva said, with the resigned voice of someone knowing the situation was beyond her control and that nothing she could say would change a thing, but that didn't mean she was going to pretend she was okay with it.

But she was resting her chin on her hand and looking at Artemis with what could only be described as affection. And Artemis... there was once again a smile on his lips when he replied: “I don’t,” and once again it was not his usual vampire smile. It was a smile Holly had never seen before – innocent, joyful, carefree – and the elf realized that she was looking at what Artemis could have been hadn't he been born Fowl. Still a genius – you cannot take genius from Artemis – but one who was never forced to become a criminal. She was looking at a happy Artemis.

And then a flyer, handed by Artemis, was in front of her nose. Holly’s eyelids fluttered, focusing: it was the menu from... a pizza place?

“Let me know what you would like to order.”

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(1) French for: "Good... night?"
(2) a series of mathematical problems suggested by Yutaka Taniyama in 1955. The twelfth was actually insightful to find the solution to Fermat's Last Theorem
(3) yeah, there's no Nobel for math. One of the tales around this is that Nobel's lover cheated with an eminent mathematician, who would have won the prize had it been created.
(4) Achilles had the possibility to chose between a glorious (but short, even if this is not what Artemis mean) life and a calm and boring (but long) one. It ended quite poorly...
(5) Some things are better not translate XD
(6) see Fools' Paradise - The night of Samain, chapter 4: White king, black king
(7) statistical test
(8) see Fools' Paradise - The night of Samain, chapter 11: Armistice
(9) see note 5 XD
(10) Latin for: "Of this I have some truly wonderful proof, yet the space at the corner is too small for it."
(11) Minerva is pulling Holly's leg: phylotes are the elemtary particles allowing faster than light travel in the Ender's saga, while Rusakov Particles is the scientific name for the Dust in His Dark Materials.
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Chapter Text

Chapter 6: A DANGEROUS MIND

Holly had learnt one thing about the Mud People's pizza: as delicious as it was, it left her terribly thirsty.

She carefully climbed off the couch and walked around the coffee table. Luckily, two days had been enough time for her to familiarize herself with Minerva's flat enough to avoid bumping around. It helped that the two Mud Kids were so tidy: there was no risk of stepping on – say – a pen drive or a building block like at Foaly's house, despite Caballine's strenous efforts. Holly had experienced both and couldn't say which one was worse.

It also helped that thre wasn’t much ground to cover. Like, it was still a Mud Person flat, at least five times the size of her two-room back in Haven, but thanks to her adventures with Artemis, Holly had a pretty good idea of what the homes of rich Mud People were like. Hell, she had seen Chateau Paradizo, and for someone who literally hailed from a palace, the flat was surprisingly modest. The light wood parquet, white walls, white furniture and gray sofas were cleary the work of an interior designer, and Holly would have bet that everything costed more than she earned in a year (and would have lost: all the furniture came from IKEA. A few months of wage at most), but she didn't feel the same urge to slip off her shoes that she sometimes felt at Fowl Manor. In fact, she was a little surprised that Artemis had adapted so well. But then again, that was just the latest of the many surprises the Mud Boy had had for her in latter days.

Two were the furnitures that stood out in that clear brightness that, in full daylight, made the living room look even larger: one was a television screen, so big that Holly – and, she suspected, Artemis too – wouldn't be able to reach the sides stretching her arms; the other was what the elf had initially mistaken for a painting, but which turned out to be a digital frame. Something belonging to a museum, for the People, but not so common for humans. Her mistake was somehow understandable, because the frame actually depicted a painting, where a blonde girl who looked very much like Minerva held a candle while leaning over a second Mud Girl with raven black hair. It was a beautiful painting – or at least, beautiful it was to Holly's untrained eye – but one of the many things that puzzled her about this new Artemis was how he didn’t even flinch in front of a wall literally covered with a painting of Minerva with what looked like her ex-girlfriend. Which was clearly still important to her, or she wouldn't have spared so much space to her, yet when Holly had caught Artemis looking at it, he was smiling.

Mud People things, the elf thought. Or, genii things.

At the moment, she had other priorities: water. She reached the kitchen – once again all white cabinets, glass, chrome steel, and a marble countertop, that would probably take a good chunk of her yearly wage but hey, Holly agreed that it looked nice – and pulled open the refrigerator. Suddenly she was surrounded by cold, unpleasant memories surfacing, but one thing had to be said about Minerva: when she wasn't busy threatening her to have her stay in the bathtub or because she didn’t want to submit a paper, she was truly a delightful guest, from the warm croissants that had filled Holly’s stomach that morning to the water waiting for her on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator, so it was easy for the elf to grab the bottle and close the door behind her without having to expose herself to the cold air more than was absolutely necessary.

She unscrewed the cap, sighing as she felt the water trickle down her throat. It was only once her primary need was satisfied and she leaned against the refrigerator that she realized the faint hum of electronics wasn't the only noise in the room. If she strained her ears, she could hear something regular, rhythmic, and harmonic. Something like... music?

Up until that moment, Holly had been on autopilot, ready to fall back asleep as soon as she returned to the couch Minerva had prepared for her (it was incredibly comfy: thanks to the size difference between elves and Mud People, it was larger than the bed she slept on back in Haven), but that sound was enough to shake off sleep. Curiosity killed the cat, and had almost killed Holly on more than one occasion, yet she couldn't help it. This was music, she was sure of it. But the clock read two in the morning: who would even play at that hour?

Holly followed her ear to the stairs. There were two, one leading up from the foyer and the other from the kitchen: a layout that allowed access to the mezzanine without passing through the living room, something Butler would surely have approved, even though Artemis and Minerva mostly used it to get around her without disturbing her sleep.

The elf cautiously placed one foot on the wood. Then another. There was always a chance that it was all in her mind, and she didn't want to wake the two Mud Kids because of it. But when she reached the top of the stairs, the music – however faint as it was – was unmistakable, and there was blue light filtering from under the door of the room that had been pointed at her as the library, but which she had not yet had the chance to see. She turned the doorknob.

"Frozen inside without your touch, without your love, darling. Only you are the life, among the dead... (1)"

Frozen inside, yeah. Holly could very well understand those words, because that was exactly how she felt. The scene unfolding before her very eyes was so absurd that for a moment she thought she was still dreaming.

Minerva Paradizo. Eighteen years old. Genius. Demon kidnapper. In her nightgown, swinging her blond curls back from her face and singing into a microphone.

Artemis Fowl II. Eighteen years old. Genius. Elf kidnapper. In his pajamas, lying sideways on a sofa, head thrown back and his raven hair an artistic mess.

Minerva passed the microphone to Artemis. Holly expected him to refuse, embarrassed, but instead, to her surprise, the Mud Boy didn’t hesitate a moment in taking it.

“All this time I can't believe I couldn't see, kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me. I've been sleeping a thousand years, it seems: got to open my eyes to everything.”

To say the elf was left speechless would be an understatement. Holly Short had known Artemis Fowl II for four years (seven, by the rest of the world). In those four years, she had never imagined the Mud Boy could sing, not to say like it. Yet, there was no doubt about it. Artemis was always in control. Even when he spoke about things he was passionate about, he remained impassive. But now a smile danced on his lips and his clear voice was fluttering with emotion.

And then the music slowed, and Minerva threw her head back, her blonde hair tinged platinum by the blue light of the monitor: "Holly! Viens!"

Increasingly dumbfounded by the events, the elf found herself obeying. She had barely closed the door behind her when the music started up again at full blast. Minerva had placed the microphone between her face and Artemis', and now the two of them were singing in turn: "Wake me up." "Wake me up inside." “I can't wake up.” “Wake me up inside.” “Save me.” “Call my name and save me from the dark.” “Wake me up.” “Bid my blood to run.” “I can't wake up.” “Before I come undone.” “Save me.” “Save me from the nothingness I've become...” A pause that lasted a moment, and then, together: “Bring me to life.”

The two genii laughed – and Holly thought she should better get used to it – then Minerva sank onto the couch, wiping sweaty hair out of her face, while Artemis rose to turn off the music.

“The magic I stole from the Limbo”, he began, without even looking at her, as if he already knew the question Holly was going to ask, and the elf flinched. Damn his talent for talking to people without facing them. “It had... side effects. Side effects you're actually well aware of. The Rule of Dwelling, for one. And on full moon nights, I felt the same call the People feel. You know what I mean.”

Of course, Holly knew. Those nights on the surface, with the moon shining on her, the scent of dew in her nose, and voices singing in her ears, were just magical. From the earth thine power flows. In fact, it was almost ironic that she always ended up postponing her Rituals.

“But I, Holly, don't belong to the People. For me, that call was torment. That is until, while I was trying to drown it out with Chopin's music (2), it appeared to me – he chuckled – …I have to say say, back then I thought she was an angel.”

“Caudataire (3)”, Minerva scolded him, lightly slapping his arm.

Still grinning, Artemis raised an eyebrow. “Tall and blonde, floating around in your nightgown? Yes, I have no idea how I could ever mistake you. An angel you were, Minerva. An angel who brought with her the solution to my problems.” A pause. “Tell me, Holly, did you like the song?”

“Yes,” the elf said honestly. Music had been part of their shared experiences only once, in Sicily. Back then, while Holly had been on the verge of falling asleep, Artemis had been listening intently, and had even found a moment to slip a little lesson on opera into what was supposed to be an espionage mission. That boring classical music, that was what Holly associated with Artemis. The song she had just heard couldn't have been more different, and yet – in some weird way – it fitted.

Artemis nodded, as if he hadn't expected anything different: "Your genetic memories like it too. As long as this music plays, they shut up and let me sleep. You have no idea what a blessing it is." He leaned over the back of the couch to pull Minerva into a hug, burying his face into her curls. "And whoever could offer me her blessing, if not an angel from Paradise?"

Artemis was obviously in the mood for compliments. And compliments so saccharine that Holly thought that the twelve-year-old who had kidnapped her would have gagged at them. And it wasn’t just her, from the way Minerva rolled her eyes in a way that said: "Should I kick him?"

It should have been impossible for the boy to notice it from where he was, but – saccharine or not – Artemis Fowl II was Artemis Fowl II, and he pulled away from Minerva's hair to mumble: "It's in your name, you know. There's nothing you can do about it."

Any further objection Minerva might have had was silenced by a quick kiss on the cheek. Holly watched her close her mouth and, despite the exasperated look (so exagerated it was most likely fake) she shot Artemis, drop the subject.

During the week she had spent at Fowl Manor the prior summer (4), Holly had thought any romantic relationship between the two would inevitably be biased in Minerva's favor. Just looking at her was enough to get that she was way more experienced in love matter (not that she needed much to top zero). But what Holly had seen was only the blossoming their relationship, and disguised behind an act both Mud Kids were desperately trying to believe in. But now Minerva wasn't acting, and the way she looked at Artemis, intent on explaining how the ailments had all but disappeared when he had burned up his magic but they kept the tradition of full moon karaokes, said that she doted on him just as much as Artemis doted on her. And that very day, Holly had seen Artemis keep at bay a stressed Minerva – and learned that a stressed Minerva oscillated between depression and murderous rage like some crazy metronome – without even flinching. No, Artemis wouldn't let anyone put him on a leash. Nor would Minerva even try. Those two liked each other too much the way they were.

"Holly." Minerva’s voice interrupted her musings. She was leaning over the sofa to reach the laptop: “I think you'll like this. Every time I listen to it, it reminds me of Artemis.”

“Funny,” he said. “Every time I listen to it, it reminds me of you.”

“I guess it’s fitting enough, then,” Minerva replied, handing him the microphone. A moment later, music blazed in the library: “I'm searching for answers, 'cause something isn't right. I follow the signs, I'm close to the fire... (5)”

Holly woke up to the sun filtering through the blinds. That night, too, she had slept soundly. After so many months, nightmare-less nights. Maybe her psychologist was talking shit and all she needed was a change of scenery. She had always suspected it.

Without getting up from the sofa, she fumbled for the remote. In a few seconds the windows were clear and the room was flooded with light. God, the sun! The sky-like Foaly had created for Haven did its very best, but nothing could compare to the warmth pouring through the glass. Sometimes, Holly wondered if she was part lizard.

With those idle thoughts in her head, she reached for the sweater she'd taken off the night before. She had to admit that, as awful as the color was, it kept her warm. At least the rest of her clothes had passed Minerva's judgement, so she picked up a pair of black leggings and slipped them on. Only then did her eye fall on the clock.

Wha... It was true that, thanks to Artemis' all-night karaoke (something she still had trouble believing in), she had gone to bed quite late, but... It seemed that overtime and night shifts had finally taken their toll. She had slept, that she did. She had sleep a little too much. I need to get a grip at myself. I'm not a sixty-year-old chick anymore. And then: great, Artemis will never let me live this down.

But the Mud Boy wasn't in the kitchen. The only sign of human life was a brown paper bag with Holly’s name written on it, in a handwriting that wasn't Artemis'. It must have belonged to Minerva, then. The elf found herself grinning. If this was how she treated him, it was no wonder Artemis had fallen so hard for her, she thought as she licked the last crumbs of the croissant from her fingers.

The foyer proved equally deserted – and devoid of edible surprises, too – and so did the bathroom, so Holly took the stairs. The bedroom door was closed, so she curbed her curiosity. She would knock, she decided, only if all the other rooms were empty.

It wasn't necessary: she knew she had found Minerva as soon as she set foot in the library. The Mud Girl was sitting sideways on the black couch Artemis had occupied the night before, a blanket thrown over her legs and a book in her hands. The room faced east, the morning light pouring through the glass, and Holly, like others before her, realized that under the sun Minerva Paradizo literally glowed. A cascade of molten gold framed the warm paleness of her face, dark lashes, and soft pink lips, melting onto the beige sweater she wore. She was pretty as a field of sunflowers – that is, if sunflowers had bright green eyes and an answer to basically anything (6) – and, again, Holly thought it was no wonder Artemis had fallen so hard for her. No wonder at all.

“Minerva,” she called.

The girl raised her nose from the book she was immersed in. “Holly! Come in!” she said, pulling her legs closer to her chest to make room for the elf.

“Artemis...?” Holly asked as she sat down.

“Out on an errand. Took the Renault, should be back soon.”

Holly blinked. “...Artemis driving?”

Minerva grinned: “I know that the common opinion is that Artemis is useless in practical tasks, but let me remind you who got a flying license at ten. So yes, Artemis can – and would – drive.”

Holly nodded. Another surprise. A small one, though. By now, she almost didn't notice them anymore, one after the other as they were. The night before, she had discovered just like that that Artemis played the piano. She was learning more about the Mud Boy in those few days than in all the adventures they had shared. And speaking of which...

“Minerva, do you play?”

“I used to,” the girl said laconically. “Transverse flute. I had absolute pitch, just like Artemis, but I lost it at eight.”

“Absolute pitch?” asked Holly.

“Or perfect pitch, is the ability to identify a note just by listening at it, and therefore accurately reproduce a melody without the need for a reference. Combine that with eidetic memory, and the result is that Artemis is able to play a piece of music even after hearing it just once.”

“Ah.”

For a while, the two remained silent, Minerva back to her book and Holly... well, just basking in the sun. Truly, humans didn't realize how lucky they were. Maybe to truly appreciate something, you had to lose it first. Or maybe not. Judging by what she had said, Minerva must have had an extraordinary talent for music, but she talked about her loss as if it didn't matter to her.

Her silence must have spoken for her – or perhaps Minerva was simply giving an end to what she had begun, after a long pause – because the girl said: “It never really belonged to me. I was born with it, and one day life took it away. Just as it will with my smooth skin and the blonde of my hair. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at me, Holly, and I know what you think: the same as so many others, that I'm beautiful. Yes, I am, no point in being modest. But, sooner or later, my beauty will fade. It's one of the reasons I chose a life where it’s intellect and talent which count. I want to be remembered for my accomplishments, not for something that fell upon me without even asking, oui? And the same goes for Artemis. As strong as the passion is – oh, you should have seen the anger when Antoine Moreau won the Grand Prix du Disque. Not because it was undeserved per se, but because: “That man smokes while playing the piano! He has no respect for the instrument!” – Artemis only plays for fun. And don't get me wrong, should Artemis had desidere so the path to sucess was paved, and I know that Angeline at least would have been more than happy at the thought of having for child a musician instead of the heir to a criminal empire. But it would never have truly belonged to Artemis, if you get what it means.”

The elf was still thinking about those words – was it true? Her aim, she had acquired after hours and hours in the simulator. Would it have been the same if she hadn't had to train for it? – when the sun on her skin was met by another feeling, one that had saved her life more than once. Someone else’s eyes on herself.

“Holly. If I asked you a favor, would you do it?”

Minerva's voice was full of calculated indifference, but there was nothing indifferent in the eyes that looked at her from above those half-lenses of her.

Holly might not be a genius, but a career in the LEP longer than Artemis and Minerva's entire lives had given her a certain instinct. Or, as Madame Ko would have said, it was like genius or absolute pitch. You either have it or you don't.

"What kind of favor?" she asked cautiously.

Minerva stood up, leaving Holly to contemplate her options for the moment it took her to return, a cardboard box in her hand. "May I ask you to give this to N°1, from me? I hope it's not too heavy; it shouldn't be."

Holly considered the request. From a strictly practical standpoint, there was no problem: she traveled between Haven and the surface so often that every customs officer in Tara knew her. Only Nander Thall persisted in questioning her – nothing personal, Holly had to admit: he did it to everyone – and she knew from a reliable source that Thall would be in Atlantis when she planned to be back underground (Artemis wasn't the only one able of planning ahead). The other officers wouldn’t question her, and even if they do, they would turn a blind eye. LEP officers were supposed to know what was dangerous and what was not, and besides that, they brought anything from the surface. Holly herself, every time she visited Artemis, returned to Haven with a box of cookies. Minerva’s box weighed a kilo at most, and would have fit easily into her bag.

No, it was Minerva's hands that made her hesitate as she handed it to her. She had never paid attention to them, and that had been a big mistake. On the ring finger of her left hand, she wore an half gold, half silver ring, and the elf assumed it was the equivalent of the ring Artemis had. But on the middle finger of her right hand, she had another ring, with a blue gem, and Holly knew what that was. A fairy totalsensor, just like the one she used to communicate with Artemis.

For Frond’s sake, how Minerva had... well, no, that she could figure out: it must have been given to her by N°1. The real question was: what did Minerva do with it?

There were at least a thousand possible options. Meeting N°1, in the midst of people, under Holly’s watchful eyes, was one thing. A totalsensor was another one entirely.

Holly felt Minerva’s sharp gaze on her: I fear that soon you'll reveal your dangerous mind, said one of the songs they had sung the night prior, and it was true. And what was truly dangerous, she thought, was that she liked that Mud Girl. She really did, despite what had happened between them. Minerva was surprisingly easy to like. And Holly realized that this made her as a delightful guest as a dangerous one. Because it was easy to underestimate Minerva. Many people – including herself, Foaly, and, most importantly, Artemis himself – had made that very mistake.

“May I see what is it? I’m just curiorus,” she said, hoping the girl would swallow it.

Minerva didn’t even flinch: “Certainement,” she said, pulling apart the flaps of the box. Inside there were…

Books. Holly reached over to read the titles: Northern Lights, The Little Prince, Matilda… She picked up one, leafing through it absentmindedly… and suddenly she felt blood rise to her cheeks.

It was shame. Had she given Minerva the slightest chance? No. She had acted like a LEP officer. A policewoman. She had immediately assumed she was up to something nefarious, and why? Because she was a Mud Girl? Because her first encounter with the People had been marked by a misunderstanding that Holly couldn't help but consider at least excusable, considering the first demon Minerva had ever met was the same one who'd killed her (it never happened)?

And Holly knew what it meant, to be assumed. It was the story of her life. First the tomboy who preferred cruchball to dolls. Then the crazy girl who enrolled in the Academy to become the first female Recon agent. Then the first female Recon agent. And then... well, there was oh so much choice. A movie could be filled with what had been said about her (and it had been). Then, recently, things had only gotten worse, and Holly was pretty sure the nightmares that kept her from getting proper sleep were only partly to blame for the slow erosion of her patience, so things she once wouldn't have cared about now irritated her to no end. No, the reason was much simpler.

At first, she had thought Artemis would have been hit the hardest by their adventure in Hybras. They had all lost three years, and that was enough for her, but she would live centuries, while the Mud Boy already didn't have that many years left. And besides, what could he ever do, go back home and explain it with time travel?

But reality had turned out to be different. Despite having come back from the past to discover that life had moved on and finding himself the older brother of twins (truly, Holly wondered why; one would think that his mother had learned her lesson with Artemis (7) ), Artemis appeared to have settled in without too much trouble, and – despite knowing very well that he was a genius – Holly had been surprised to no end... until it turned out that the Mud Boy hadn't lost all the magic he had stolen in Limbo, as he had said. Holly should have been surprised, but it was just... typical Artemis Fowl II.

On the other hand, at first things had been easy for her: okay, Foaly had gotten married, and she had been sorry not to be able to make it for the ceremony; okay, Trouble had been promoted, and she had been sorry not to be able to make it for the ceremony; but, beside that, what had really changed?

Then the rumors began. At first, Holly hadn't paid any attention. She had lived with it for years: she was the crazy captain, the one who'd been kidnapped by a Mud Boy and costed half a ton of gold, the one from the B’wa Kell revolt, the one who had killed Commander Root...

But the People had found a new reason to talk about her, and it was her eye. The same eye she had swapped with Artemis while in Limbo. Five Artemis Fowl movies had come out by now, and posters of his cold blue eyes staring down at Skylar Peat were a common sight in Haven. Holly didn't look at all like the actress – a thing that was half relief, half nuisance – but it hadn't taken the average fairy long to put things together. And so Holly had realized that if they were pointing her out, it wasn't because she didn't have artificially elongated ears, or hair that reached her butt, or boobs that rivaled Minerva's. No, it was because of her blue eye.

At first, the thought had made her laugh. Then she hadn't laughed anymore. Because who cares of the fairies passing by the street. Who cares of the new recruits, who fell silent when they saw her in the corridor. Who cares about her colleagues who had known her since she was a cadet, or her crunchball squad. But even her friends had began looking at her. Trouble, who seemed unable to tear his eyes off her blue eye when they spoke. Mulch, who – straight as always – had asked her if Artemis could look at him through the eye, and Holly had wanted to scream: It's a fucking eye, not a camera! Even Foaly – Foaly, who was supposed to be a scientist! – had made a joke about her Mud Eye, only to apologize immediately when he saw her face, but eh, too late. It's Artemis' eye!, Holly had thought furiously. Not some random Mud Man’s. Artemis'!

No, the elf had told herself, she wouldn't cover it with a eyepatch like a human pirate from the movies, as Grup Kelp had suggested with his usual tact. For what? To make Seymour Snorkel Whaddafuck, who didn't even bother cleaning the sidewalk where his tazpadam (8) had taken a shit, feel better? No way.

Who was left? Qwan and Qweffor, they hadn't said anything, which was obvious, because they knew the consequences of a time stream. N°1 too, but N°1 could have not known and it would have been the same, N°1 loved everything and everyone, Mud People included, and didn't care about such things. Then there had been that surprisingly nice email from Lili Frond – of all people! – to which Holly had stared for an embarassing amount of time not quite knowing how to answer, and in the end she'd jotted down a thank you note that felt like what one would send their boss for Christmas. The world was truly upside down, with Foaly joking about her eye and Lili Frond consoling her.

And then, of course, Artemis. Artemis, who had done for her more than most of the fairies put together, and so had Butler, and Juliet... and even Minerva. D'Arvit, Minerva had saved her life, no more and no less than Artemis. Minerva had offered her her hand as a friend. Minerva had told her fair and square that she wanted nothing to do with the People. And, as a thank you, Holly had thought of the girl what people thought of her and Artemis. That she was a security hazard. That she had motives with N°1.

Go figure. That was Minerva fucking Paradizo. Minerva Paradizo, who at fifteen had kidnapped a demon. Minerva Paradizo, who had calculated the time stream equations that the People's so-called experts had gotten wrong (twice). Minerva Paradizo, which Artemis Fowl II considered her equal. Minerva Paradizo who, if she even had motives, would have been perfectly capable of pursuing them without bothering to gift N°1 books.

Holly must have been an open book herself, because the girl chuckled softly, but without mockery: "Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes (9)," she said, a sentence whose meaning Holly perfectly got even without knowing the book it came from and which made her blush even more, until Minerva cut short her embarrassment with a flick of her wrist: "We are what we are, Holly. We can't help it, n'est-ce pas?"

The elf nodded: "I'll do what you asked, I swear."

_____________________________________________________________
(1) Evanescence, Bring Me To Life
(2) See Fools' Paradise - The night of Samain, chapter 6: A different music
(3) French for: "flatterer."
(4) See Fools' Paradise - La notte di Samain, chapter 7: Somatotropin
(5) Within Temptation, A Dangerous Mind
(6) Coff coff Nevernight coff coff
(7) From a Calvin&Hobbes panel
(8) Crossover moment: in Dragon Age, tazpadam are depth cretures which sometimes dwarves use as pets. I thought the word was perfect for the same use.
(9) Latin for: "I do not trust the Greeks, even when they bring gifts." (Virgil, Aeneid, II, 49)
_____________________________________________________________

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: AMORE + PSIΧE

It was New Year's Eve, and in Geneva the snow had piled high on the windowsills, but the window in the kitchen of that flat was fogged up. Three were in the room, all three busy with something no one would have expected of them. Minerva wasn't writing some paper only she and a handful of colleagues would ever understand: she was at the counter, her curls tied in a tight bun, a knife in her hand, chopping up the mushrooms she had arranged on a cutting board. Artemis wasn't unraveling the secrets of another species: his cheek resting against his hand, he was looking at his girlfriend with a tiny, sweet smile dancing on his lips. And Holly was smiling too, but not because she had caught a gang of goblins, or stopped said Artemis' plan to unravel the secrets of another species: she was busy admiring her mirrored image on the oven, contemplating her new sweater.

Yes, because that was the errand the Mud Boy was out for in New Year's Eve morning. As soon as he returned, he had poked his head into the library, calling Minerva. As if she was just waiting for it, the girl had bounced up, informing Holly that they would be back in a moment.

The elf had nodded, taking advantage of Minerva's absence to glance at the book she was reading: The castle in the sky that was blown up (1). "A thriller about men who hate women," she had replied when Holly asked her what it was about.

The elf had skimmed the first few pages: a statistic on the women who served in the American Civil War (some war that had happened like two or three centuries prior, if she remembered correctly) and a scathing comment on how the film industry ignored it. As above, so below, Holly had thought cynically. Even after she had become something of a celebrity, there were fairies who frowned at the idea of a female Recon officer. If females were to join the LEP, they belonged behind a desk, like Lili Frond.

Her train of thought was interrupted by footsteps: Artemis was back... and presumably Minerva too, though Holly had discovered that the girl's slippers were surprisingly effective at silencing footsteps.

The two Mud Kids had entered the room side by side, sporting the same, unreadable smirk. They had looked so similar, despite the difference in gender, height and colours, that it took Holly a moment to notice the budle Artemis was handing her.

"For you."

The elf had blinked: "Me?"

She couldn’t be sure, considering who she was dealing with, but she could have sworn there was a glint in the eyes of the two young genii that said: kinda slow, aren’t you? However, nothing had transpired in Minerva's voice when she had nodded: "Yes, you."

Holly had carefully peeled back the tape holding the paper decorated with tiny Santa Clauses, the human version of San D'Klass. Who would have imagined those two Mud Kids owned wrapping paper? Especially Christmas-themed wrapping paper. So far, the only hint of Christmas she had seen in Minerva's flat had been some mistletoe hanging in the foyer. Holly had carelessly commented that it was yet another tradition the Mud People had adopted from fairies, only to be informed by a grinning Artemis that it was plastic.

Holly had already guessed that the bundle contained some sort of... tissue thing. She could never have guessed what, though: when the paper had came away, it had revealed a sweater of a deep forest green, with small white Christmas trees running around the chest. She had brushed the fabric, and it was warm, soft. From the collar hung a card guaranteeing that no animals had been harmed in its making. It was the kind of vestiary that back in Haven cost an arm and a leg. She lifted it for a better look, and some thick drawing paper slipped out of it. It was a portrait of her, drawn with simple, rapid pencil strokes, yet it captured her likeness perfectly. The elf in the drawing stared at the observer with a confident gaze in her mismatched eyes, the only detail that had been coloured. Beneath the drawing, in the same handwriting of the paper bag with the croissaint, was scribbled Holly.

“...you two Mud Kids are insane!” the elf had babbled as soon as she regained her voice.

“Yes, it’s a known side effect of genius,” Minerva had replied.

“We thought you suffered enough", Artemis had added, nodding at the pink sweater.

Holly lhad looked at them: “Thanks, Arty. Thanks, Minerva.”

He had raised an eyebrow: “No nicknames for her?”

The elf chickled: “No, with some clever words Minerva had me realizing that nicknaming her is not a good idea. Anyway,” she had added hastily, before Artemis could ask where that comment had come from and having her admitting that she had prepared it in advance and was just waiting for an chance to use it (in that flat not being a genius made her feel kinda outnumbered): “I almost forgot, I have a little something for you, too.”

It had took her a moment to find it in her bag, but finally she had made her triumphant return to the library: “Ta-dah! The entire series of films about a certain Mud Boy! And don’t ask how much Foaly complained about having to put them on compatible device.”

Truth to be told, the centaur had asked her to take a picture of Artemis' face. This was impossible for Holly, not having her helmet on, but he would have been disappointed anyway: the only reaction from the two geni was a glance and a slight purse of the lips: "Are you pondering what I'm pondering, Artemis?"

"I think so, Minerva (2). Looks like we'll have what teenagers today call a movie night, tonight."

A slow melody brought her back to Earth: "...Holly?"

The elf flinched: "What?"

Minerva pointed at the cell phone, lying on the table: "Wet hands. Check who is calling for me, will you?"

"I'll do that," Artemis said.

"No, no," the elf stopped him. "I’m like, already here. It’s... numbers?"

She barely had time to see the alarmed expression on Artemis' face before Minerva, wet hands or not, was over her. A sharp flick of her finger – and Holly could have sworn she saw the screen cracking under her nail – ended the call, then she growled into the microphone: "Reject all calls from this number."

Holly was frozen in place. Minerva had left the phone on the table and was now panting heavily, looking at it as if it were a dead rat or something. Artemis had stood up and was slowly approaching her.

"...who was that?" Holly asked, dumbfounded that something was able to elicit such a reaction from cold, controlled Minerva.

"Une salope," the girl growled. "A bitch." She was so shocked she had forgotten the Gift of Tongues. "Also know as my mother."

Holly blinked: "...your mother?"

“You heard me,” Minerva said. And it was true, but the elf couldn’t conceive how someone cold ever speak that way about her own mother. Yeah, trolls ate theirs, but apart from trolls, all of the People (and trolls were kinda debated, anyway) hadn’t but the utmost respect for their parents. Perhaps it was their low fertility rate compared to humans, but it was a trait shared even by goblins, who were barely smart enough to open a can, or demons, proving how corrupt and unnatural the society Abbot had created was. In fact, disrespect for parents was a trait that People psychologists used to diagnose insanity.

Minerva, however, was far from insane – even if she looked a little bit like that, as she glared at her phone and concluded: “…Beau. I'm going to kill him. It could have been none other than him; she knows he is the easiest to play fool. I told him a thousand times not to listen to that cunt.”

Holly was shocked: “Minerva, she's your mother...”

“So what?”, snapped the girl. “I owe her my face. My mitochondrial DNA. And little else. She lost all rights to me when she abandoned me at eight and Beau was a newborn, to run away to Marseille with the gardener. And you know what? Better that way! She freed me from her fucking influence! She wanted to name me Eloise and raise me as her little princess. Do you know what girls are made of, Captain Short? She loved reminding me of that: sugar, spice and everything nice. And do you know what I am made of? The kidnapping of a demon. My love for Artemis. My IQ of 254 and my genius, and my name is Minerva!”

Holly stepped back. She had never expected something like that, or to see Minerva in such a state: panting, one hand supporting herself against the counter, her arm shaking, her eyes wild behind her glasses. She still clutched the knife in her fingers, though she seemed to have completely forgotten it.

“Minerva,” Artemis called softly. The elf couldn’t help to notice that, despite having approached the girl, he was very careful not to touch her.

“Artemis.” Minerva's voice seemed to come from someplace far, far away. “For the risotto, I'll need some wine. Would you be so kind to fetch it for me, s'il te plaît?”

“Of course. Holly, come with me. You can help me choosing it.”

The elf nodded quickly, and it didn't matter that she knew absolutely nothing about wine, that she couldn't even drink it. It was all she needed to leave the kitchen.

The last thing she saw, before the door closed behind her back, was Minerva chopping down the mushrooms as if each one of them had murdered her father.

“Christ,” Artemis said, sliding onto the couch. “Holly, for your own sake, don't mention Minerva's mother in front of her ever again. Just don’t. That’s how she reacts.”

“...it’s like she becomes a different self,” the elf mumbled.

A flicker of emotion she couldn't quite decipher flashed in Artemis' eyes: “A different self? No. She's still Minerva. Just a side of herself that she usually keeps tightly locked.”

“It's... kinda bit scary.”

Artemis nodded. “She suffers. Time doesn’t heal all wounds. And – by her own admission – she doesn’t even want to. Ten years of living with hatred is a long time, more than half her entire life. She is afraid of discovering what would be left of her after giving up such a huge part of herself, and to be honest, I can’t blame her. Losing certainties is a devastating experience, and she has already gone through it once. That’s more than enough. And besides, what would it change, anyway? It wouldn’t give her back the childhood that woman ruined. And a few phone calls on anniversaries won’t make up for it.”

Holly glanced at the door, guiltily. “Maybe I should…”

“No,” Artemis interrupted her before she could go on. “Absolutely not. Minerva isn't angry with you. Quite the opposite. She is angry with her mother, and with herself, for her outburst and for having let her emotions have the better of her. She would have never, ever wanted you to see her like this, and now she is deeply ashamed of herself. If you mention what happened, she will only be further humiliated. So, here's what we're going to do: you and I will sit here until Minerva's anger has subsided. After that, we'll fetch the wine and go back to the kitchen, and you will act as if nothing happened. Minerva will do the same, and believe me, Holly, that's the greatest kindness you could show her.”

The elf nodded, hesitantly. That wasn't what she would usually do, but there was some logic in Artemis' words: "Fine, I guess. If you say it's best for Minerva. I suppose you know her better than I do."

“Thank you,” Artemis said, and for a while they sat in silence. Holly was tapping her feet, but Artemis, slumped on the couch in a pose she would have never imagined him, seemed content to just sit.

"Artemis?"

"Yes?"

"How did Minerva know it was her mother?"

"It’s quite easy: only a handful of people are in possess of her contacts, so any unknown caller had to have got it from one of them. And there aren’t many options around."

"And... Minerva?"

She wasn't sure he would understand what she meant. But Artemis was a genius. Of course he understood: “Goddess of wisdom and war, for the Romans. It's also the name of the theater where her parents met (3), though she favours the first etymology, for reasons you can fathom.”

“Ah.”

They stood silent for another moment, until the elf felt Artemis' gaze on her: “What is it?”

“That sweater looks good on you,” he said, and then, because he was Artemis, added: “Which shouldn't be a surprise, actually, considering that it were Minerva and I who chose it.”

“It's not like you could have done worse than the pink one,” Holly joked. She understood that – as both Minerva and Artemis had pointed out – she could consider a veritable miracle that out of the Mud Girl’s closet had come something she didn’t wade in, taking into account their respective height differences. Unfortunately, in that moment her tongue, well known for having caused her her fair share of troubles in the past, decided to pipe in without consulting her brain first: "I mean, forget the sleeves, but Minerva is gifted in ways that I am not."

Artemis raised an eyebrow: "For your own peace of mind, I will refrain from telling Minerva that you just commented on her... gifts."

"They're... there," Holly protested. "I cannot, like, unsee them!"

Artemis just stared at her, that infuriating grin on his lips, until the elf's brain caught up and realized what exactly she had said. And this time silence fell because Holly was too busy fighting the blush rising on her cheeks, a lost battle.

This time, it was Artemis who broke the silence: "Holly, I know there's something you want to ask me. Stop fidgeting with it."

The elf flinched, because it was true: "Just how...?"

"You're talking nonsense and tormenting the hem of that poor sweater."

It was actually true, and Holly carefully removed her fingers from the sweater. Not knowing what to do with them, she tucked them under her legs. Artemis was right, of course. There was something she wanted to ask him, something she had wanted to ask him for days. She just had to find the words.

“...you've changed, Artemis. You’ve changed a whole lot,” she said in the end. “You're no longer that cold child who kidnapped me. You did things I would have never expected from you. Hybras... and giving up your magic for Minerva (4)...”

“But?” Artemis asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Couldn’t this be the all of it?”

“No. It couldn’t,” he said, and of course he was right, because he was Artemis Fowl II, and Artemis Fowl II was always right.

Holly sighed: “...but sometimes I feel like you've changed so much and so quickly, that I don’t recognize you anymore. I know, it’s so stupid, but I used to think I understood you. And don't grin, Mud Boy, I know you’re gonna tell me no one can.”

“I wasn't about to.”

Holly looked at him, and it was true, he wasn't about to. Artemis' mouth wasn't set in a hard line, but he wasn't exactly smiling either. Just like the day he had saved – and slapped – her, his face was unreadable. With a shiver, the elf realized she had once again assumed she knew how Artemis would behave, and reality hadn’t conformed to her expectations. It was happening far too often.

"You see? I thought you would.."

This time, Artemis smiled. But it was a forced smile: "I'm growing up, Holly."

She didn't buy it for a second. “No one changes this fast. Not even you. Months ago, you used to call me at least twice a week. Then it became once a week, but I thought it was because you were with Minerva. But then it became every two weeks. And now we barely talk once a month. And the same thing happened in these last days. Don't think I haven't noticed: you're distancing yourself, Artemis. You're kind as usual, but distant. What's going on?”

He raised his head to face her, and for the first time since they had started talking, Holly felt like he was actually looking at her. And she saw pain in his eyes,the back circles that had almost disappeared suddenly coming back with a bang.

“Do you really want to know? Minerva once told me that down the rabbit hole there’s no turning back (5). She was right, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Holly nodded, because she couldn't speak. Suddenly, a lump choked her throat. Artemis was about to tell her something big. She could feel it in her gut: "I'll manage, somehow. We've been through a lot together, you and I, haven't we?"

There was definitely sadness, in Artemis' mismatched eyes: "Yes, we've been through a lot. And I want you to know, my dear friend, that I wouldn't be the person I am now without you. I was a broken boy, and you fixed me. And for that, thank you."

Holly hadn't even realized she had started shaking. She prayed that Minerva would call them because she needed the wine. She prayed that a troll would break through the wall. She prayed that a time stream would open, a horde of demons pouring into the living room. At least, she would know what to do. Now she was the one who was sure there was a but coming. Why are you telling me this, Artemis?

“So what is it?” she asked, her voice so low she was alost sure he hadn’t heard her.

The boy threw his head back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "An hour per second for a count of forty. Thirty minutes per second for a count of eighteen. And then backward, one minute per second for a count of two."

Holly blinked. “...what?”

Artemis looked at her sideways, once again with that emotionless glare. “The timer of the bomb. How I brought you back.”

Hybras. Abbot. “Artemis... it never happened. You prevented it.”

“Wrong. It happened, Holly. That was the original timeline, this is the one I altered. One second of miscalculation, and you would be dead.”

And of course he was right, because he was Artemis Fowl II, and Artemis Fowl II was always right.. And deep down, Holly knew it. The voice in her head told her – You're alive only because a Mud Boy had been too stubborn to let you die, and smart enough to pull it off. And the nightmares that haunted her nights were a constant reminder.

But if there was just one thing about Holly Short, it was that she wasn’t going down without a fight: "But..."

Artemis didn't let her go on: "I saw your magic when Minerva and I broke your ribs. Amber sparks."

D'Arvit. She had so hoped no one would notice. Especially not Artemis. There was no way he wouldn't know what they meant.

"A few centuries early, aren’t they?", he went on, coldly. "You're not even a hundred years old."

Again, Holly tried to open her mouth. Again, Artemis was faster: "The truth is, Captain, that I benefited from your company much more than you did from mine. Who dragged you into my adventures? Me. Whose fault is if you lost a finger? Mine. Whose fault is if you died? Again, mine.” His voice was emotionless and yet every word felt like he was knifing her with. “And I confess that I longed for you, Holly, because I enjoyed having a friend. But it’s not fair. In this world there are people who take and people who give, and when a bond develops between two of them, the latter always pays the price. You are right, I tried to distance myself from you. To detox from your company. Because it’s the only good thing I can do for you nowadays. If we go on this way, I’ll become nothing but a leach, sucking all the good out of you while you grow weaker and weaker. And in the end, all that will remain of you will be an empty shell, which I’ll leave behind without looking back.”

Artemis paused, and that would have been Holly's chance to pipe in, but the thought didn't even occur her. She was frozen, no more and no less the first time she had faced a troll in the simulator. Unable to react.

Without looking back, he had said. That was what had happened, right? Artemis had looked at her... and then averted his gaze and went on counting.

Stop it. Stop it. There was a reason for it.

"In these last days, you saw me with Minerva. Do you know what the difference is? That I could never hurt Minerva without having her hurting me back. In her, I've found the other side of my coin, and Minerva and I would destroy each other long before either of us would prevail. As it should be, because she's part of me, the half I was missing. But you? You, Holly, are a butterfly. Naive. Innocent. So sure about where white and black, good and evil stand. At the beginning, I was evil, and nothing good could come from me; now I am good, and nothing evil can come from me. But you're wrong. The day will come when I will stab you in the back, and you won't even see it coming. That's why I must put an end to this, before my next plan kills you, and this time is unlikely there will be time streams to change what happened: such tricks only work once. You understand I have no other choice...”

Holly didn't let him finish. Her clenched hand hit him squarely in the cheekbone, with such force that, if he hadn't already been sitting, he would have fallen head over heels despite their difference in height and weight.

It hurt like hell. At least as much as it had hurt him, and there was some kind of poetic justice in that. Holly felt tears streaming down her cheeks. When had she cried last time? As far as she could remember, at Commander Root's funeral. Her muscles were shaking, and she was certain that, if she had had wings (she didn't: sprites are the only species of the People to have them by birth, and hers were hanging in the closet at the entrance), they would have spread open. A fight-or-flight reaction, Artemis would have called it, and Holly had never been one for running. Better to fight.

“This is bullshit. Is that the right word in your language?”

Artemis rubbed his cheek. “Not the one I would have used, but I suppose so.”

“Good. Because, for a genius, you’re such an idiot, Artemis. It’s about time someone told you that, since Minerva never will.”

Artemis chuckled, though it was more of a grin that bared his teeth. “Bold of you to assume Minerva never calls me an idiot. You would be surprised how often it happens.”

Holly was, indeed, surprised. But just for a moment. “Then I know who to ask for the next time we’re having a problem, since at least she’s still a genius.”

There was a slight shift in Artemis’ smile, which took some contemptuous arrogance. “And what makes you think, Captain Short, that she’ll even listen? Aslan is not a tame lion (6), you know.”

Holly had enough. Her stomach twisted and pain shot for her knotted muscles, as if it had been Artemis who had hit her, and not the other way around. And now he was speaking in riddles.

In an instant, she was on top of him, her legs on his knees, her hands on either side of his head, her fists clenched: "Listen to me, Mud Boy."

After the first, surprised blink, Artemis’ face had returned impassive. It was something that made her head spin, being on top of him, her heart pounding, and just being stared back by mismatched eyes that were identical to her own. There was something insolent, in that blank face. He knew she wouldn't hit him a second time, and he was taking advantage of it. And he knew Holly didn't know what to say.

D'Arvit. Well, his silence must be an invitation to speak. Better than the alternative – that he just didn't care at all. And Artemis would find out that not knowing what to say wasn't enough for Holly to not blurt out what she was thinking: “Before you kidnapped me, I hated humans. Like, yeah, I did my job, because I wanted to be a good LEP, but deep down I hated them. How I could not? The only thing I knew about them is that it was their fault if my mother died. Then you came along and... even though we didn't exactly get off to a good start... you were the one who made me realize that there are good guys among the Mud People, too. Like you. Like Butler, like Juliet. Like Minerva.”

Artemis' only reaction was at the mention of his girlfriend: “You should tell her. She will appreciate being included. Do you know what she once told me? That family doesn’t have to be the one that gave me birth. It could also be one of the most dangerous men alive, his younger sister who has settled for wrestling, and an elf policewoman.”

Holly was speechless. Artemis and Minerva considered her family? She wasn't sure what to make of that information. A friend, sure, but family?

And in that moment, she understood. Artemis, in his complicated way, was telling her he cared for her. He cared for her so much that he preferred to push her away rather than accidentally hurt her. Wouldn't that be the same thing she would do if a civilian were caught in a firefight? Artemis considered himself so dangerous that only those who knew him since his birth, like Butler or Juliet, or were equally dangerous, like Minerva, could be safe around him.

“But that’s just for short. She called you an elf policewoman who ended up becoming a bit too fond of the Mud Kids who kidnapped her. And she was right,” Artemis continued, apparently unaware of Holly’s shock. But was Artemis Fowl II really unaware of anything?

“...there’s nothing wrong with that,” Holly mumbled, because it was all she could say.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. “First me, then Minerva. Don’t you see a pattern? If dictionaries had pictured, Holly, yours would be under the entry for Stockholm Syndrome.”

The elf laughed... until she realized Artemis wasn't laughing at all. “Oh, come on. Listen to yourself. If it weren't for you, Haven would have Opal as its queen right now. Or it would be buried under molten iron. And demons would be extinct.”

Holly didn't realize she was repeating the very same arguments Minerva had used with her that summer, but Artemis did, of course, and he was far less impressed than the elf expected. “Is that worth your index finger? Is that worth your death?”

It makes perfect sense to him, Holly realized. He thinks I'm the stupid one who doesn't understand something easy. And maybe she was – 100% she wasn't a genius like that Mud Boy – but of one thing, she was sure: this time, it was Artemis who was wrong.

“Yes, it is. Because you fixed everything. You always fix everything.”

“Next time I might not be able to,” he retorted coldly.

Holly's voice softened. She wasn't angry nor scared anymore. She just wanted to hug Artemis – and Minerva too, while she was at it – and tell them she cared for them, too: “Then I'll die, because if you're involved, it means that my death will be for the People – if not for the world. It's better than dying as a Wheelie because the road goes haywire and someone runs me over, or because a goblin blows my head off with Softnose, don't you think?”

“Not dying would still be preferable.”

Holly shook her head. “Not for me. I'm a cop. Julius once told me that our job isn't to do what's best for us, but what's best for the People.”

“And this is why you will never get ahead, Holly,” Artemis said, sarcastic. “And you should know that I've always had the best reasons to do my worst.”

“And the worst reasons to do your best. But you did it anyway.” And then, Holly decided to screw everything. Because the Mud Boy in front of her was a hero, and he didn't even realize it. He was already on his knees: putting her arms around his neck and pulling him close was surprisingly easy.

She felt Artemis gasp, but she didn't care for the stiffness of his body, or the limpness of his arms, as if he didn't know what to do with them. All that mattered was that he was there, that she was holding him. “You're not getting rid of me that easily, Mud Boy,” she said, her voice cracking.

She heard Artemis sigh: “Fine,” and she didn't care that his sigh sounded like the resigned sigh of someone knowing the situation was beyond his control and that nothing he could say would change a thing, but that didn't mean he was going to pretend he was okay with it.

It was then that Holly felt embarassed, when she had to pull away from the embrace and knew she would find herself staring into those mismatched eyes that were identical to her own, and suddenly wished there was a way to teleport away from Artemis without intermediate steps (and, to be fair, there was, but since N°1 wasn't there, that wasn't much help).

It was Artemis who saved the day – in his usual, irritating way: "You elves are emotional creatures," he noted, his face once again blank.

Holly stifled a laugh against the crook of her elbow, and took advantage of that move to pull away. "Maybe we should get that wine," she pointed out. "Minerva is waiting."

Artemis shook his head. “There’s a bottle in the fridge, remember? The wine was nothing but an excuse. But I agree, she had had enough time for her anger to subside. So, Captain Short, if there’s anything else you want to ask between the two of us, it’s now or never.”

Indeed, there was something. Holly just wasn’t sure if it was a legitimate question. It was the Mud Kids’ business, not hers. She was just curious.

Artemis, being Artemis, caught her eyes darting: “Come on. Minerva won’t wait forever.”

It was all or nothing, and Holly pointed at the digital frame covering the wall behind them: “Doesn’t it bother you that there’s a huge painting of Minerva with her ex-girlfriend straight in your face?”

The boy blinked, and for a moment Holly saw Artemis Fowl II – Artemis Fowl II, who seemed to have an answer to everything; Artemis Fowl II, who seemed to know her questions even before she asked them – taken aback.

The moment later, Artemis burst out laughing.

He laughed that clear bell laugh that Holly had heard more times in those few days than in the four (seven, by rest of the world) years they had known each other. He laughed, teeth flashing white between the pale pink of his lips. He laughed, throwing his long neck back over the sofa. He laughed, until he was left breathless, doubled over and panting, a hint of pink on his cheeks. And Holly looked at him, and found herself wondering when it had happened, at what point in the last four years (seven, by the rest of the world) the cold child who had kidnapped her had morphed into the boy that sat across her. When exactly had Artemis Fowl II grown so much.

And then Artemis raised his head, eyes filled with mirthful tears, and chuckled: "Her ex-girlfriend. Oh, God. You have to tell Minerva. She is going to love it. Holly, take a closer look at the painting, please."

The elf obliged. At the bottom, a small plaque was drawn, the gold and silver rendered so expertly she could almost see the reflection waving when she tilted her head. "Amore plus Psixe," she read.

"It's a chi," Artemis corrected her. "It reads k. Psyche."

Holly nodded, leaning into to the digital frame. In truth, she had only suspected that the blonde girl was Minerva, but Artemis had all but confirmed it. Her golden hair and pale skin gleamed in the candlelight, but her clothes were black, a shirt left half open to show off... as Holly herself had said... considerable gifts. She looked almost indecent, if it weren't for – and the contrast was probably intentional – the loving gaze she was looking the other girl with, as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And in the last days, Holly had seen that look more than once, whenever Minerva's eyes were on Artemis. Had there been any doubts left, there weren't many Mud Girls around with a chunk of rock dangling over their cleavage. Yes, the blonde girl was definitely Minerva.

Which left her even more dumbfounded about the other. She had a smaller frame and she was more modest, covered in some kind of white dress whose name Holly didn't know that left her arms and shoulders bare. She was turning her her head toward the other girl – Minerva – her red, cherry-like lips parted in a soft, languid expression. Her loose raven hair fell around her neck, and she wore a necklace whose pendant was lost amidst the sheets. Holly was quite sure she had never seen that girl before, and yet at the same time there was something familiar about her.

"Hint," came Artemis’ voice. "There are three blue eyes in this room."

Three...

And then it felt like one of those images that made no sense until you looked at them from right angle and suddenly a tiger, a zebra, an elephant appeared. Because that wasn't Minerva's ex-girlfriend. It wasn't even a girl.

Holly had left herself be deceived by those features, softened by blush; by those lips, lipstick and a soft smile she'd never seen before on them; by those eyes, by eyeliner and eyeshadow. She had been deceived to the point that she hadn't bothered following the necklace where it disappeared between the sheets, or she would have found a pendant she knew well enough. She was the one who had gifted it to him, after all.

She was looking at Artemis Fowl II.

_____________________________________________________________
(1) Original title of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest by Stieg Larsson. Of course Minerva, little snob that she is, reads it in Swedish.
(2) Artemis and Minerva are quoting Pinky and the Brain
(3) See Fools' Paradise: Hell is empty - Chapter 2: Chromophobia
(4) See Fools' Paradise: Trauma
(5) See Fools' Paradise: Family - Chapter 1: The right to be unhappy
(6) Artemis is quoting The Last Battle by C. S. Lewis
_____________________________________________________________

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: THE TRUTH

“Uhm... wine.”

If Holly had expected to find a trembling Minerva, her eyes wild, puffy and reddened from crying, she had to be relieved. In the time she and Artemis had been in the living room, not only had Minerva's anger subsided, but she had also popped upstairs, washed her face and fixed her makeup. The girl who took the bottle from her hands with a dazzling smile and a “Oh! Thank you, Holly” was a Minerva like their little misstep had never happened. Just as Artemis had predicted. In fact, the only one to acnowledge the prior events was Artemis himself, who slid an arm around Minerva's waist and leaned in – or rather, given their height differences, he leaned in and she lowered her head – to whisper something that Holly couldn't hear in her ear. Whatever it was, Minerva didn't react at all (or at least, not in any way Holly was able to discern), giving the corkscrew a final twist and uncorking the bottle with a practiced, elegant gesture.

Holly watched, fascinated, as she raised the wine to her nose and inhaled, nodding in satisfaction. Then she reached out to pass the bottle to Artemis, who sniffed it in turn. He grimaced, but halfway through, his frown turned into a smile, as if this was a joke only they were aware of. He nodded too, and handed the wine back.

Part of Holly's fascination was genuine. The People cannot drink alcohol – it poisoned their magic, and anyway, given their size, it wouldn't have taken much to send a fairy into an alcoholic coma – but she had seen her share of human movies to know what ancholic beverages were, and over time she had developed a sincere appreciation for the aesthetic of wine cellars, with the exposed beams darkened by time, brick walls and stacked barrels. There was something... relaxing about them, and more than one bar in Haven made an effort to emulate that look. So, on her part, there was a certain... academic interest, as Artemis would have called it.

But it was entirely secondary to the fact that she was trying to get her mind off a conversation that had ended with more questions than answers. Because Artemis was wearing a dark gray gilet over a blue-and-black shirt, and that would have been normal for anyone else, but it wasn't the kind of normal she was used to with Artemis. Because in Artemis' profile she still saw a blue eye, and that reminded Holly of another blue eye, a blue eye that Artemis had refused to explain in that irritating way of his, and this was yet another thing Holly didn't understand. Part of her wanted to ask Minerva, as Artemis had suggested, but there was the not-so-slight chance that she wouldn't get anything but more questions out of it. That those green eyes, so similar to Artemis' despite being a different colour, would prove just as unreadable. And then there would be two of them laughing at her. So, yes, it was better to think about wine.

"Holly?" Minerva's voice interrupted her reasonings.

"Yes?"

"The Book says fairies cannot consume alcohol, but does that extend to its use in cooking?"

Holly shifted her gaze to Artemis. "That's a very good question," he mused. "I've never wondered myself."

“Of course you didn’t, you aren’t exactly at home kitchen, non? The tought would have hardly occurred to you. But I have a degree in physics and a PhD in chemistry, and what's cooking if not physics and chemistry?” Here Holly sighed inwardly, because she had heard that very same voice from Artemis way too often not to know what it meant: big explanation incoming. “Some common food items contain by themselves a small amount of alcohol, from leavened bread to soy sauce, and I'm pretty sure some of the dishes we had had this summer were tinged with wine. Considering Holly looks alive and well, I would be inclined to assume there's no problem with it, but better to ask, n’est-ce pas? Just aswer quickly, please this wine needs to go now or never.”

The elf had already opened her communicator: “Wiccapedia says that human alcohol is poisonous to the People, but also what you said, that many foods contain it anyway, and that if you can keep it below about 1-2% ABV, there shouldn't be any problems.”

Artemis grimaced: “Wiccapedia? Would it be the equivalent of our Wikipedia? An open-source project that anyone can edit? Because, in that case, are you aware that litterally any user can contribute to pages, right? Just because it's written, it doesn't mean it’s accurate.”

Minerva agreed: “Isn’t there any peer-reviewed paper on the matter, instead? This could very well be someone’s awful idea of a joke. It happened among humans more than once, oui?”

Holly continued to scroll: “Even if it's wrong, I won't lose my magic for just one time."

“That coming from Wiccapedia, too?” Artemis asked sarcastically.

Holly rolled her eyes. “Go ahead, Minerva, do what you have to. You said yourself that Butler had to have used wine to cook this summer. It won’t kill me.”

“I’m keeping record, for legal use, oui?” the girl winked, nodding at her phone. “Not that I see the need arising. 1-2% ABV? It won’t be a problem.”

It took the elf a bit to realize that, to give her such answer, Minerva must have – somehow – done a mental calculation that she wouldn’t have been able to solve even with pen and paper. And she had done it in a matter of seconds, probably less than she thought, and in the middle of a conversation. “How…?”

Minerva shrugged. “I’m good with numbers. Some people think I deserve an Abelprisen, apparently.”

And with that, she picked up the bottle.

Holly would have expected her to simply pour a bit of wine on the risotto so that a flame rose, just like she had seen on a pirated Mud People TV cooking show once, at Mulch's. There no flames, but Minerva kept tilting the bottle until it was three-quarters empty. It was enough to make Holly's eyes widen, and perhaps even reconsider her own bravery, but the Mud Girl didn't give her the time, raising the bottle to her lips to drink straight down, not stopping until she had emptied it in one long gulp.

"Fiesta (1)," she commented, elongating the sibilant and punctuating it by lowering the empty bottle next to the stovetop, with a thud that made Holly flinch. Minerva had just done something that would have killed any fairy, with total nonchalance. Had she pointed a gun to her own head and pulled the trigger, the elf couldn't have been more surprised, and she flinched again when a voice sighed: "Minerva" with resigned reproach.

"Artemis," the girl answered. "What is it?"

"That was a 2005 DeLucca that perhaps deserved a little more finesse."

Minerva cocked her head. "Weird, I was there when you called the very same DeLucca a terrible grape, only good for cooking."

"Anyway, I would have liked to check it myself."

Artemis' chair wasn't low – at least, for Holly – but Minerva leaned forward until her back was almost parallel to the floor and their eyes at the same height. "Si tu veux te rouler un patin avec moi (2), you could just ask, oui?"

Artemis placed a finger on her nose and gently pushed her back. "Omnia tempus habent (3), Dr. Paradizo."

For her part, Minerva shrugged: "Dum loquimur fugerit invida aetas: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero (4)," she replied, kissing the tip of his finger before straightening her posture.

Three days and much more confusion had been enough for Holly to realize that when those two began with their shenanigans, the best course of action was ignore them. She wasn’t going to understand much of them, anyway. But one thing had piqued her curiosity: “Spin a saucer?”

Minerva grinned, a slow, mischievous grin: "Oh no, trust me, you don’t want to hear it from me. Search for it in your Wiccapedia, oui? You'll find under French kiss."

The elf did as she was told. And immediately regretted it.

Holly pushed the empty plate away: "Even if I lose my magic, it was worth it."

“If I were to, it would be,” Artemis corrected her.

Minerva rolled her eyes. As usual. “Oh, shut up. It’s nice to feel appreciated, for once. You, you rated it seven and a half out of ten.” But before getting up to put the dishes in the sink, she left a kiss on Artemis’ temple. “Shut up,” she said again, but this time with a hint of affection in her voice. “I know how much your seven and a half is worth.”

Minerva didn’t have to look to know that Holly’s gaze had instinctively followed her motion, and that her girlfriend had taken advantage of the elf’s distraction to slip away. With remarkable skill, for someone known for her clumsiness.

“Wha... Artemis...?”

Exactly. Minerva grinned. Had Holly ever had a chance to scroll through the phone of either of them, she might have been able to guess what implied her leaving to Artemis the stirring of the risotto for a few minutes while she was busing changing her clothes, and her return in the kictchen wearing a long, red dress that would have been familiar to anyone had seen some certain photo. But Holly had never had a chance to scroll through the phone of either of them, or none of this would have been necessary, and all she had had to say has been a comment about Artemis’ skinny arms.

"Will be back in a moment," said Minerva reassured her. It was the riddle of the two doors, where the guard telling the truth were her words and the one lying was the voice she had used. Because Artemis had been too afraid, when she had come out to Butler and Juliet and before that, to play anything other than the card of honest, disarming sincerity. But her first coming out had instilled some boldness in her, and Holly was no Butler or Juliet. As much as the idea unnerved her, Artemis had every intention of facing it head on, cool and contemptuous.

And then Holly's eyes widened and her mouth slacked in utter bewilderment, and only the fact that she hadn't picked it up yet saved her glass from meeting the floor. And Minerva turned her head too, because she knew that – as comical as the elf's face might be – what stood behind her was far more interesting.

As she had once said, Artemis in a dress was beyond every imagination. Especially in a dress of her own colors, cut for her figure. Seeing her like this filled her with love, affection, protective instincts... and yes, even desire. Because Artemis was beautiful. Minerva had always believed that, however much grace and nobility could be acquired with practice, for some people it was simply natural. And Artemis was one of those people: each step traced an arc that brought one foot in front of the other with pinpoint precision; her back was straight as a spindle, her lean chest pushed out; Minerva could have described her stride with a simple equation. Behind a pink that on her pale skin looked red lipstick, her mouth was impassive, but there was something sardonic in her gaze, in the way her thick, heavy lashes fell over half-lidded eyes – and yes, of course, eyeliner and mascara ensured that attention was inevitably drawn there – as if for a joke only she knew the meaning of. And Minerva, of course.

And she would have continued to enjoy the show, Minerva, hadn’t she known she wasn’t just a spectator: she had a role to play in that drama, too, and that was the reason for her costume. One hand behind her back, she guided a dumbfounded Holly to her chair, then she slid behind Artemis. Their height difference meant that her chin rested comfortably on top of her girlfriend’s head as she pulled her close.

Apparently, Artemis was just her usual self, calm and controlled. But Minerva, who knew Artemis better than she knew herself, wasn't fooled for a moment. There was a slight tension in her thin shoulders, an almost imperceptible shiver running through her arms that wasn't ascertainable to the fact that they were bare. Artemis was nervous.

And yet nervous wasn’t the same as scared. There was a vast difference between the present Artemis and the one she had held in her arms when she had come out to Butler and Juliet. And some little apprehension wasn't enough for Artemis' arrogance to give way. If now she was biting her lower lip, it was to held the reins of the grin that threatened to slid on her lips at Holly's startled gaze. And Minerva loved her for that and, since Artemis would end up ruining her lipstick and there were better uses for that mouth, she brushed her fiancée’s cheek, first with her fingers, then – when she tilted her head under her touch – with her lips. Artemis had the softest skin Minerva had ever touched, like that of a peach, and she would never grow tired of it. Green eyes met mismatched eyes, and then the girl captured Artemis' lips with her own. She exhaled against her, and for a moment – but it was a long and wonderful moment – it was as if time had stopped, as if everything else had disappeared, and only the two of them remained.

And then the moment passed, Minerva let go of Artemis, and the other girl twisted in her arms, her lips now set in a mischievous smile: "Tell me, Holly... do you like what you see?"

Holly remembered that dress. As she remembered Minerva's (which, indeed, had seemed familiar enough to her at dinner, but in her defense, she had been distracted by the risotto). It was the night of Samhain (5), and she was looking for Artemis and Minerva, and on the streets there were two Mud Women, and one was tall, blonde, with curly hair: back then, the elf had noticed the strong resemblance with Minerva. The other had a petite frame and raven hair, but despite the resemblance, Holly had overlooked yer, because she was wearing a blue dress, and back then she had thought that Artemis Fowl II could be many things – genius, thief, blackmailer, unlikely hero – but he certainly was no girl.

But in her reasoning there had had to be something wrong, because the girl before her had Artemis' eyes. Artemis' voice. Artemis' features. Artemis' mannerisms. And on her chest hung the coin she herself had given Artemis. Yet her cheeks were pink with blush, her eyes were darkened by eyeliner and eyeshadow, and her lips were red with lipstick. She was the girl in the painting, and she was the girl in the blue dress, and at the same time she was Artemis Fowl II.

ERROR 404 – NOT FOUND, Holly's brain screamed. It was too much to process at once. She needed to focus on a more immediate question, one with an easier answer. One where a yes or no would be sufficient.

“D’Arvit. It was you two,” she whispered, and the sound of her own voice almost startled her.

It probably wasn't what the two Mud Girls had expected, because they exchanged a glance. And then it was their reaction, something Holly hadn’t expected: Minerva's puzzled expression turned into a grimace, and Artemis' into a sneer: "Pay up."

Minerva rolled her eyes: "Is Au chat noir fine?"

"Are you booking?"

"Of course."

Apparently, Holly had been the subject of some kind of bet. Yes, it should have surprised her that the two Mud Girls (?) knew the LEP was keeping an eye on them. But it was nothing compared to the surprise she had just been subjected to, the sum of all the surprises since she had set foot in that flat.

And then a pair of black-rimmed eyes settled on her, and a pair of red lips bent into a vampire–like grin. That grin, at least – the elf thought – was the same, and for once she didn’t muse that in another moment she would have shot herself before admitting with herself finding Artemis’ grin anything close to reassuring.

“The night of Samain, or Samhain for the People.” It wasn’t a question. “Yes. It was us. Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit / Of that forbidden tree (6).”

“Ἄχρῳ ἐπ’ ὔσδῳ ἄχρον ἐπ’ ἄχροτάτῳ (7)”, Minerva quipped in, and Holly was… no, not all that surprised to see Artemis, grin softening into a smile, let out a startled: “Right,” and then rising on tiptoe to kiss the corner of Minerva’s mouth. She saw those straight eyebrows frown as Artemis noticed the trace of lipstick on the other girl's skin, and an index finger was moistened between lips to rub it away.

They were so beautiful, so tender that, despite all her questions, Holly found herself holding her breath to avoid breaking that tiny bubble they had built around each other. It was only when they tok a step back and their eyes returned to her that she dared ask the big question: "So, Artemis... do you... feel you are a girl?"

"No. I don't feel. It's who I am, and he body I was born in doesn't change this."

For once, it was a straight answer, without beating around the bush, and in a way, it hurt. Because Holly Short had known Artemis Fowl II for four years (seven, by the rest of the world), and at some she had thought she understood him (her). But apparently, in those four years Artemis Fowl II had managed to grow up without her realizing it, and looking at the girl before her, Holly realized she hadn't understood anything.

Some – or more likely, considering the two genii she was dealing with, all – of the turmoil she felt must have been evident, because Artemis reached, as if to brush her shoulder, before stopping herself. The elf noticed in passing that her nails were painted a blue that matched her dress. "It's fine, Holly. I needed time, too. And I never would have got there in first place if it hadn't been for Minerva." No kiss this time, but the two Mud Girls looked at each other, and that was it.

Holly nodded. The Artemis she knew wasn't understanding. The Artemis she knew didn't give others time. But the Artemis she knew wasn't a girl, either. She would get to know this new Artemis, too.

She gestured toward her head: “So the long hair...?”

“Yes.”

“Your clothes... that sweater?”

Artemis chuckled: “Holly, it's not like that now every detail has to be read under the lens of my gender. The clothes you have seen me wearing these last days are rather unisex.”

“For Christmas, we renovated her closet,” Minerva explained.

“That was sweet of you,” Artemis said, and sweet was her voice, too. Then she turned back to Holly, and the elf saw her frown slightly: “For obvious reasons, I don't intend to inform the entire world of my true self. Not right away. When I will be finally free to be myself, I will burn all my suits, but in the meantime, I'm experimenting with a style that allows me to express my femininity without arousing suspicion. An attempt to make my daily life more tolerable around those who for now must remain in the dark, I may say.”

“You could afford to be a bit more daring, oui?” Minerva grinned, her voice and the smirk Artemis gave her back making it clear that this, too, was some kind of joke between them. This time, however, Minerva deigned to elaborate: “Piercings.”

Holly blinked. Another surprise. Artemis being a girl, okay. Artemis in a long dress, also okay. But Artemis with piercings?”

At her surprise, Minerva laughed: “Anything against piercings, Captain? Are they against LEP regulations? I have some too, you know?”

The list of surprises was truly endless: “Really?”

The girl stepped away from Artemis’ side to bend down to her height, then moved away her hair to expose her ear: “Double lobe,” she said, tracing it with her fingers, then trailed up to the auricle: “And helix.”

Holly shifted her gaze to Artemis, who was looking at her with a faint smile. “Who knows, Captain. But I can tell you one thing: while you were making a fuss in the bathtub, I was downstairs, removing my makeup. I was afraid that, combined with hypothermia, the shock could have proven fatal.”

Holly nodded slowly. It was not all that unlikely. As the two talked, something occurred to her: “You said it, it may take me a moment to get used to this. But your name... do you want me to still call you Artemis, or...?” In some TV series she had watched, it had seemed like a very important point.

Artemis smiled at her, and this time it was a actual smile – open, honest: “Of course. It's a girl's name, after all.”

Holly blinked: “Wait, are you doing this on purpose?!”

And there it was again, the vampire grin: “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Captain Short.”

She was pedantic. She was infuriating. She was, beyond any doubt, Artemis: “You’re impossible, Mud Girl... ah.”

Yeah. True.. That, indeed, could be a problem. And a big one: “Artemis, if you’re a Mud Girl now, and Minerva is a Mud Girl, how can I tell you apart?”

The two girls exchanged a look: “Don’t call us Mud Girls?” Minerva suggested.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option, right?” Artemis sighed. The elf wasn’t surprised that she had guessed she hadalready started thinking of something.

She wasn’t the only one: “If we follow the International Codes of Nomenclature (8), you have priority,” Minerva pointed out.

“If we follow the International Codes of Nomenclature, the same name can be used for more than one species,” Artemis retorted.

“Only if they belong to different kingdoms,” Minerva answered, but then her voice dropped an octave and her index finger moved to brush Artemis lower lip: “And we two, we’re closer, aren’t we?”

Artemis’ voice had taken on the same tone: “Very, very much.”

This was followed by a moment of silence as the two girls looked into each other’s eyes, and to Holly it seemed they were doing nothing but breathing. But suddenly, as if nothing had happened, Minerva was back in debate mode: “You can’t even make it a case of nomen protectum (9), because I doubt it has been used by ten authors, and for obvious reasons, certainly not in the last fifty years.”

“True,” Artemis conceded. “But that wasn’t the option I am considering. What if...”

Holly never knew what other option Artemis had thought of. Not that it really mattered, since she was the one who interrupted her. She was sure hers was the better one, anyway: “Demoiselle de Boue,” she announced.

For the second time, the two girls' reactions weren't what Holly had expected. Not that she'd imagined them in wide-eye amazement – she knew those two well enough not get that it was unlikely – but at least an admission that, yes, it made sense. Instead, glances were shared. And then hands went up to cover their mouths, hiding smiles behind which laughter could very well be seen. A pointless gesture, because it sparkled in their eyes.

“Care to explain to me what's so funny?” asked the elf, arms crossed and just a tad offended. To her, it seemed perfect. “It's just Mud Girl in French, and since Minerva is French, it seemed obvious to use French for her and English for you, Artemis.”

Artemis looked at Minerva. “As I told you this summer, the gift of tongues works more like a translation software than a human translation. It gives meaning, but not context.”

Holly blinked. That... was actually true? Like, she knew she had some issues in understanding what her human friends meant with some sentences. But what did that have to do?

“Demoiselle de Boue does indeed mean Mud Girl in French,” Minerva explained. “But it's also used to refer to the children of celebrities who have achieved success thanks to their... lineage, rather than their talents, oui?”

“Which is exactly what Minerva isn't, and she hates when others think that of her,” Artemis concluded. “This flat? Gaspard didn’t put a cent into it. It all comes from her patents and royalties.”

“Ah.” No, that definitely wasn’t what Holly had thought of. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Minerva. We can find something else.”

Minerva shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I understand that’s indeed not the meaning you intended. And, you know, I could live with it from you. A nickname that doesn’t suit me is… fitting. After all – and a sly smile bent her lips – no one would even call Artemis Mud Girl with a reason, n’est-ce pas?”

Holly looked at Artemis, with her immaculate clothes. As long as she had known her, she had always been impeccable, and when she happened to get dirt on her during some of their adventures, she had made no secret of her annoyance, complaining long and hard about it.

"Demoiselle de Boue is it, then. They'd lose their head over this in Haven, you know?" she mused aloud. "When they’ll find out it wasn't just a Mud Man, not just a Mud Boy, but a Mud Girl who stole half a ton of gold."

"Oh, poor things," Minerva said in mocking pity. "To feel emasculated at the prospect of bowing their head to a girl is truly terrible."

Holly chuckled: "That'll be so funny, though I'm not sure how I'm going to explain it."

"You could begin with suggesting that, even if Artemis had been born in a woman's body, she would have fucked the People all the same way, oui?"

The answer Minerva got was a fit of coughing, as the elf nearly choked on laughter, doubled over in her chair with one hand pressed against her stomach. When she finally regained her composure – and it took her at least a minute – the first thing she did was look up at Artemis.

“What she said,” the girl nodded.

The contrast between her impassive face and her words was such that Holly couldn't help but burst out laughing again. “Okay, okay,” she said once she'd wiped the tears from her eyes. “Another question. You don't have to answer, though.”

She did her best to ignore how Minerva leaned toward Artemis and whispered loud enough to be hears: “Why, until now we had to answer her...?”

It's a figure of speech, damn it!, thought the elf, hoping she wasn't blushing. You should know, Mud Girls, aren't you genii? The question she was to ask was hard enough, and in fact she didn't even know what was driving her to ask it: once again, it wasn't her business. And at the same time, it was on the tip of her tongue, waiting to spill.

"Well... if you, Artemis, are a girl, and you're with Minerva, does that make you...?"

She left the sentence hanging, hoping the two Mud Girls – who, after all, were a genii – would understand.

The Mud Girls exchanged a look, and for a long moment it felt as if they had no intention of humoring her. And as if they were doing it on purpose. Then Artemis grinned: "What I am, I do not know. You see, Holly, in fifteen years I've been attracted to one, and just one, person. Not much, to build a statistic upon. The only label I feel I recognize myself in, because I've experienced it, is that of sapioromantic. That means, I'm romantically attracted by someone’s own intelligence," she explained, at the elf's puzzled look.

This explains why you needed Minerva, Holly thought, shifting her gaze to the second Mud Girl, the one she was most interested in. Like, how had she reacted to finding out that her boyfriend was actually her girlfriend?

Minerva managed to make it sound banal: "I'm bisexual, Holly. For me, nothing has changed." Without breaking her gaze on the elf, her arms wrapped around Artemis' chest, pulling her close, and she brushed the top of her head with a kiss. "Nothing, except that Artemis is finally herself. And that's what really matters."

“Holly, do you remember when you asked me about me and Minerva?” Artemis added. She wore an expression of careful nonchalance that melted away as soon as she raised her head toward the other girl with a face Holly never thought she would have ever seen on the cold twelve-year-old who’d kidnapped her. “It’s because she’s nothing less than perfect.” Artemis' eyes were on Minerva as if there wasn’t anything else in the world that mattered more to her. Once again, they weren't kissing, yet there was a slight tension in Minerva's bare arm that suggested she wasn't just wrapping her arms around Artemis' shoulders, but holding her close. The same was true of the arm Artemis had wrapped around Minerva's waist. Minerva rested her head on Artemis', Artemis’ hand was buried in her hair. This is love, Holly found herself thinking. True love, not whatever Trouble and I have.

And then Minerva broke away from the embrace and, as if nothing had happened, smiled at her: “Très bien! If I’m not mistaken, we were planning a movie night...?”

_____________________________________________________________
(1) Spanish for: "Party!"
(2) French for: "If all you wanted was to spin a saucer with me (as Minerva says, = French kiss me), you could just have asked."
(3) Latin for: "All things have their moment." Ecclesiastes 3, 1-15
(4) In latino: "As we talk, time runs out, envious. Seize the moment and trust not tomorrow." (Horace, Odes 1, 11, 8)
(5) See Fools' Paradise: If I was your vampire
(6) John Milton, Paradise Lost, I, 1-2
(7) Greek for: "High on the the topmost branch." (Sappho, fr. 105) Again, see Fools' Paradise: If I was your vampire for context.
(8) Conventions of rules which states how names should be assigned to new species.
(9) According to the International Codes of Nomenclature, a name which has priority despite earlier synonims existing.
_____________________________________________________________

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: MOVIE NIGHT

Artemis hadn't expected to like the movie. None of the occupants of that room had expected her to like the movie. And, surprise of surprises, she wasn't liking the movie at all. Although, she had to admit, there was some distinct satisfaction in having exceeded Holly's expectations by begining with her criticisms even before the opening credits.

"Artemis Fowl," she had commented, leaving to her voice the burden to convey the outrage she felt. Sometimes, words were better spared.

"Isn't that your name?" Holly had asked.

"It is, but used as a title..."

"...Hannibal Lecter," Minerva had completed.

Artemis had given her an affectionate glare. There was nothing like being in love with another genius. Above or below the surface, only Minerva possessed the combination of brainpower and intimate knowledge of Artemis to follow her thoughts and reach the very same conclusions. “Precisely,” she had acknowledged, before flicking her wrist and pressing play. Dramatic... but appropriate, circumstances considered.

Holly had warned her beforehand, in a futile attempt to at least stem the criticism that would come from her and Minerva, that the film’s production had taken some artistic license to tone down the story and make it suitable for a younger audience, “or so they said in interviews.” Except for the fight between Butler and the troll: the scene was so famous in the Lower Elements that any attempt to censor it would have likely lead to a boycott.

Artemis had received the information with some degree of perplexity: that particular even had without any doubt been the bloodiest to have occurred during the siege of Fowl Manor. She had watched it on CCTV and could understand the need to tone down the violence – much as she disliked the idea of starring in a children's movie – but if not that, then what?

The answer came when she saw herself on screen. Her digital model wasn't a surprise – it well matched the People's idea of humans – and at least they had gotten her eyes right, but it was a watered-down Artemis. "Even a patrol of Boy Scouts armed with water pistols could have stopped them." The girl tsked, annoyed. Cartoon villain boasts. When Root had declared that he hadn't served five hundred years to be mocked by a Mud Boy, Artemis had given him her vampire-like smile and then answered: "So I guess your retirement is close. Was that your successor, the one we had the pleasure of meeting earlier? You're training him well, I think." And when the Commander had protested her terms, Artemis had straight up quoted Brennus: "Vae victis (1)." On second thought, it had been a mistake, because Root hadn't understood the reference. She should have opted for something easier: "The wolf does not pity the lamb, and the storm begs no forgiveness of the drowned (2)," for example.

Ah, well. Artemis crossed her legs. No point crying over spilt milk.

In those three days, Holly had realized that perhaps she didn't know Artemis as well as she had thought she did. On the other hand, perhaps didn't know Artemis as well as she had thought she did, but she did know her. Until now, the Mud Girl had done nothing but tear apart artistic license and plot holes alike, but suddenly she had straightened her back and a familiar frown had appeared on her face.

D’Arvit, thought Holly.

The next moment, Artemis broke the silence: "I can’t believe it. They went as it had never happened," she said, and her voice was more than annoyed. It was genuinely outraged.

Holly didn't have time to ask: "What never happened?", because Minerva nodded: "I agree, its a shame. You and Holly shaking hands definitely deserved more than a fade-to-black."

"The first time a fairy saw me as a person and not a monster," Artemis groaned, clearly happy to be given the green light to continue her complaint. "But I guess it was more important to have that cg buffoon surfing."

Holly was feeling slightly uncomfortable. It was true. Brief as it had been, that moment was important. She had looked into those blue eyes and seen beyond the cold facade they presented to the world. Artemis may have done despicable things, but she had just been a little girl who wanted her parents back. When Holly had realized this, she had stopped hating her. Her pride had sulked for a while, but there was no denying in what had happened. The first moment in who knows how many centuries there had been no hatred between fairy and human.

“When the movie came out, you were still public enemy number one, Artemis,” she said. But somehow, it sounded like a pale excuse.

“I understand that, Holly,” Artemis replied, once again calm and collected. “It couldn’t have been otherwise. And sometimes I wonder if that particular endeavor was really worth it. Having a family… it’s not what I imagined.”

The elf didn’t know what to say. That was not the case for Minerva: a moment later, Artemis’ head was resting on her shoulder, her arm around her waist. Holly had never seen Artemis’ expression change so quickly as when Minerva leaned down to kiss her hair. As she had turned a switch. A small, grateful smile danced across her lips, and as she leaned her head against her fiancée's shoulder, she closed her eyes.

“Thank you, Minerva,” Holly heard her mumble.

“For what? Who cares what the People think? We are your family, Artemis. We know the truth.”

That, Holly thought with a twinge of regret, should have been her line, if only she had thought it in time. It was too late, but perhaps there was something else that could console Artemis: “You know, Mud Girl, I’ve never told you this, but I actually have to thank you. Not for kidnapping me, mind you, but the gold you returned saved my career. If you hadn't, I'd probably be in Traffic by now. And for a cure you didn't even know if would work at all. I felt a little guilty, despite the idnapping.”

Mismatched eyes opened to look at her, for once free of their usual haughtiness. “Thank you, Holly. I understand it’s not easy admission.”

“A year and a half of therapy,” the elf muttered. And then, grateful that the dim light hid the blush on her cheeks, she hastly added: “Where’s the remote? If we keep going on like this, we’ll never finish by midnight.”

“You know, Holly...”

Minerva saw the elf’s ears perk up instantly, and she knew why: she was expecting a sarcastic remark about the pilot outfit Skylar Peat was wearing. Even if that was a gross understatement. Stripper suit would have been more accurate, and besides that, Skylar Peat, with her flowing hair that reached the small of her back and her artificially elongated ears (apparently, they were considered sexy among the People; Minerva didn't judge), bore only a passing resemblance to Holly.

But while Minerva certainly wasn't shy of teasing the elf, she wouldn't do it for something that truly made her uncomfortable, and what's more, that hadn't been her choice, but rather something forced upon her. Sure, she and Artemis had shared a laugh between themselves when Skylar Peat's photos had appeared on Bugle, but Holly didn't need to know that. Her colleagueas at the LEP must have already teased her – and perhaps done worse than teasing her – more than enough.

Instead, she said, “About this not-so-nice habit the LEP has of putting you in pods that don't meet the safety standards...”

Holly's shoulders relaxed. “Oh, that. I’ve got used to it, like everyone else.”

“Well,” Minerva nodded. “If you ever need some advice, we can most definitely talk about it, oui?”

Holly looked up from the screen. “Advice? What do you mean?”

Minerva let a small smile creep across her lips. “Legal advice,” she all but purred.

Artemis saved the elf from the confusion that was evident on her face. “Holly, remember when I told you Minerva has six degrees? One of them is in Law Studies.”

The girl's smile widened as Holly's eyes slowly filled with understanding. And horror.

“D’Arvit… you’re a lawyer.”

Skylar Peat’s Neutrino disintegrated yet another goblin like no real Neutrino ever could. Over the real Holly’s shoulder, Minerva shared a look with Artemis. To their human eyes, all of this felt not so different from reading a Burroughs (3) novel and having to put into contectx the racism that oh so innocently permeated every other page.

Now, humanity had a long history of science lending itself to racism, and Artemis had immediately drawn a link to the studies aimed at proving goblin stupidity. Minerva had instantly agreed: “Bertalanffy.”

Artemis raised an eyebrow: “Carmichael and Hamilton, rather.”

“And who laid the foundation for their work? Bertalanffy (4).”

At this point the elf had looked away from the screen, drawn from their discussion, but the two girls motioned for her to go ahead, that it wasn't anything important. They had no doubt they could change Holly's mind – with the exception of themselves, they had no doubt they could change anyone's mind – but there's a place and a time for everything, and it wasn't there, and it wasn't then, sitting on a couch on New Year's Eve.

That is, until Holly grabbed the remote to freeze the screen. "That – she said, pointing to the close-up of a blonde elf on the screen – is Lili Frond. The real Lili Frond, I mean, not an actress."

"I thought I recognized the voice," Artemis commented.

The elf blinked. “Oh, right. I forgot you watched all the LEP videos. You read the reports, too, right? She didn’t do anything to be there, except be the public face of the LEP. How do you even hold a Neutrino with those nails? All because someone decided bad news goes down better when they’re delivered by a blonde, green-eyed, thin bimbo.”

A tap drew Artemis’ attention away from the elf. When she looked at her, Minerva’s arm slid from her shoulder to sign, in ASL: The lady doth protest too much, methinks (5).

Under the light coming from the screen, Minerva’s face was impassive, but Artemis knew Holly’s words had annoyed her. Oh, they annoyed Artemis too, truth be told, but hers was the abstract annoyance she usually felt reading the news and wondering why humanity couldn't act with some reason just once: annoyance, yes, but not one that directly affected her. At least, not yet, because Artemis was sure that – given the path she'd taken – sooner or later she, too, would find herself in Minerva's shoes. Even in the twenty-first century, it wasn't easy being a woman in a traditionally male-dominated field. And if no one had dared to challenge her openly – because Minerva was as beautiful as she was brilliant, and even the most obtuse leftover had realized he had nothing to gain from a direct confrontation – well, St. Bartleby's wasn't the only place where rumors spread quickly. Artemis eyed her girlfriend and knew that this time Minerva wouldn't stay silent. “Blonde, green-eyed, thin bimbo?”, the girl began, nonchalantly. Way too much nonchalantly not to hear the danger underneath. “I can’t help but notice, Holly, that your description applies to me too. So that’s how you’d describe me? A bimbo, oui?”

To Holly’s credit, she immediately realized her mistake: “I didn’t mean…”

“Of course you didn’t” Minerva interrupted gently, but Artemis could hear the unspoken words: you’d be really stupid otherwise; you haven’t even begun to see what I’m capable of. “Because you know me,” she said instead. “How well do you know this Lili?”

As embarrassed as she was by her gaffe, Holly wasn’t one to instantly backtrack. Artemis knew her reasons: as the first female Recon agent, she had found herself ffaced with prejudice, forced to prove in a misogynistic work environment that she wasn’t “like the other girls.” She had been under scrutiny even before her kidnapping. Yet, at the same time, she wasn't so stubborn not to see the contradiction in her own words, because when she said: "I know she got where she is thanks to her pretty face, or her ass," her voice was less confident than it had been a moment before.

At that opening, Minerva made her thrust: "You know, that's what many people think of me at university. And that’s very unfortunate for them. When you don't know who you're up against, you can only get the worst of it."

Unseen, Artemis raised an eyebrow. The Sun-Tzu quote Minerva had adapted was: Know not thy enemy nor yourself, wallow in defeat every time. Cleary she had seen something in Holly that the elf didn't.

A fact that didn't surprise Artemis in the slightest. Not after Minerva had pointed out to her her femmine nature when she hadn’t realized herself. This was the key to understanding the painting that had so perplexed Holly, and it was no coincidence that the Artemis and Minerva in the painting were dressed exactly as in the picture Minerva had described back in that day of summer. Artemis had never met anyone so skilled at diving into the depths of the human – and, as it seemed, fairy – soul as she was.

Artemis didn't know how old Minerva was when she had first read Sun Tzu, but of the art of war she was a true master. Holly didn't have time to answer before the girl pressed play once again. Optimistically, one day the seeds planted that evening would sprout fruits.

"And that was the end of the Artemis threat," Minerva announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Bottom right of the panel: but..."

"Letum non omnia finit, luridaque evictos effugit umbra rogos (6)," Artemis immediately picked up, with that satisfied little smile that Minerva loved so much and that made everyone else flinch nervously, as she adjusted herself against the back of the sofa.

Sandwiched between the two of them, Holly must have felt called into question, because she dared a cough: "Perhaps we made a tiny mistake, back then."

Minerva Paradizo was accustomed to long-term plans. The one that had led to the capture of N°1, for example, had been put into motion more than two years before its actual fruition. Many knew that her namesake's sacred animal was the little owl; less known, but just as important, was the snake, and of snakes Minerva had the patience. Long-term results almost always outweighed momentary gratifications, and Minerva took care to maintain an impassive facade. Deep down, however, she was gloating: it was always a pleasure to see the seeds planted months earlier bear their first fruits. It put the future in a good perspective.

Of course, assuming someone hadn't uprooted them with her sarcasm in the meantime: "Perhaps? Why, is there any doubt in that, Captain?"

"All right, Mud Girl, we definetely made a tiny mistake. We still needed the great, allmighty Artemis Fowl II. Happy now?"

“Yes, and I don’t understand your face. It's plain and simple truth... not to mention how clumsy Foaly was in performing the mindwipe. My brain kept trying for months to convince itself that it was perfectly normal to have only a vague idea of how I could have ended up with half a ton of gold, or the millions I stole from Spiro, in the bank or that Butler could have aged overnight without me noticing. Sooner or later I would have put the pieces together – with or without you, Holly – and all things considered, it's good that things turned out the way they did. If I had recovered my memories on my own, I might not have been so accepting to the People who stole them from me.”

There was a hint of steel in Artemis's voice... not that Minerva could blame her. She had said the same things when, last summer, she had wanted to get it off her chest on behalf of her (not yet) fiancée. They were the same in this, the two of them, and expecting Artemis – the injured party – to behave differently would have been hypocritical.

But, just as it would have been hypocritical for expecting Artemis to behave differently, so it was Minerva's duty to intervene before that pebble became an avalanche. After all, everything that had to be said had already been said. Her girlfriend had already won. She didn't need to overkill.

"By the way, Holly, about the mindwipe..."

As expected, the elf seized the opportunity to escape Artemis's clutches: "Oh, yes, Qwan told you about it, right? And I presented a report to the Council – that is, my Commander in Section Eight presented it. You're good, Demoiselle de Boue."

Minerva nodded. “And for this, you have my thanks. But I was asking something else: why haven't the People tried to mindwipe me in the three years since we met? I know it's happened to my family. Why spare me?”

“Oh, that!” Holly nodded at the screen. “Well, the official story is that we've learned not to mind-wipe Mud Girl genii.”

“And the unofficial one?” Artemis was listening intently now, too.

The elf chuckled. “Fun story. Ever since he met him – and Minerva saw her wink at Artemis – the Commander we had back then has been terrified of Butler. According to Foaly, just knowing you were with him was enough to convince him that if he had laid a finger on you, the big Mud Man would have found a way to come down to Haven to eat him.”

Minerva laughed: “Artemis, please remind me Butler's fee, later on. Apparently, I'll have to wire him. Fair is fair.”

“Holly.”

The elf gasped. Minerva hadn't spoken in such a long time that she'd almost forgotten the girl was there. In fact, her last comment had been from when she and Artemis were hiding in the London cam-cam. This scene, too, had been extensively adapted. It had been way more cautious, the real Artemis: "From what you said, your people trusted me so little that they felt they had to erase their existence from my memory. Why should I trust you?"

Being schooled to the point of paranoia by her bodyguard about the risk of someone kidnapping the Fowl heir for ransom or blackmailing her father probably had that kind of effect. And so did passing out on the roof of a building in Germany and waking up in front of Temple Bar, London. Not to mention the fact that her wounds had been mysteriously healed and that her supposed savior was three feet tall and had pointy ears. She couldn't blame Artemis if her first instinct had been to accuse Holly of having kidnapped her. Just Holly couldn’t blame herself for laughing in her face until she hiccupped. Artemis would later confess that it was seeing her laugh like that that had convinced her she could trust Holly. Embarrassing as it was, it was a sweet memory, one Holly cherished... and so naturally the production had decided to cut it short, as Minerva had pointed out rather tartly.

“Yes?” Holly asked, turning her head to look at her.

In the cold light of the screen, Minerva was frowning: “Tell me, is this some other sugarcoating by the production?”

D’Arvit, the elf thought. She felt just like when she screwed up at the Academy, and the drill sergeant stared at her disapprovingly. And not knowing why didn't help.

She didn't have the time or need to ask Minerva what she meant, because the girl immediately began: "This is what you get for almost wiping out your civilization, and not once but twice? A slap on the wrist? Your kin was oh so ready to kill Artemis when all she did was kidnap you and blackmail the People. Opal's goal was the destruction of Haven City, and she gets away with this? With a padded cell from which she has already proven she can escape?"

Artemis was looking at her now, too.

"What should we have done, in your opinion?"

Minerva's eyes were cold as ice, two beryllium shards inscribed with the answer to Holly's question.

The elf stared at her in horror, instinctively backing up until she bumped into Artemis' side: "We don't do those things! We're not Mud People!"

Minerva didn't flinch: "Unfortunately. Do you see these?" she asked, pulling her hair back to reveal her earrings.

Holly, as perplexed by the abrupt change of subject as she was, nodded: two silver snakes wrapped around two green stones, the same green as Minerva's eyes.

"A Christmas present from Artemis. Artemis, do you want to do this? You know the story better than I do, oui?"

The other girl nodded. "They're very special emeralds – don't you think, Holly? As you may have noticed, they have the exact shade of Minerva's eyes. Gems like these you don’t find in jewelry. I obtained them by dealing with one of the most dangerous men alive, at night, in a deserted palace wherein neither of us were supposed to be (7)."

"Did you steal them?" Holly asked. She was almost afraid to know the answer, though she didn't understand why the idea shocked her so much. Hadn't Artemis presented herself as a thief, four years ago? And that was some human gem, nothing to do with the People.

I thought Artemis had changed, the elf realized. That is. Undoubtedly she had: the elf just had to look at her, in her skirt and painted nails. But... maybe not in that way. So sure about where white and black, good and evil stand. At the beginning, I was evil, and nothing good could come from me; now I am good, and nothing evil can come from me. But you're wrong. Those were Artemis's words. Was that what she meant?

The Mud Girl tsked: "You didn't listen to me. No, I didn't steal them. It was a business deal."

Yes, Holly translated from Artemisfowlian. She turned to Minerva: “And you, you weren't angry?”

The girl cocked her head, as if she considered her question incredibly stupid: “Mais non. Why would I? I was surprised, yes. A little shocked, even. But angry? That would have been hypocritical. I wouldn't have professed my love to Artemis without accepting and loving every part of her, non?”

“We digress.” Holly turned to the other girl, and despite the only light coming from the screen, she was sure she saw a hint of blush on her cheeks. “The point isn't Minerva's earrings or how I got them, but from whom. I wasn't exaggerating in calling him one of the most dangerous men alive: he's a thief and a murderer who's a legend in the underworld, and for whose crimes the city-state of Clerville sentenced him to death. That was many years ago: meanwhile, the death penalty has been abolished, but – she raised a finger – his sentence has never been commuted. That means that, if he were to be caught, the guillotine would be put once again in motion, just for him. And do you know why? Because they realize that no cell could ever contain him. Only death will stop him.”

“My motives are rather more selfish,” Minerva admitted. “Not that I care what anyone thinks. That gripet – she said, pointing to the screen with the remote – is a threat to Artemis, and that's enough for me to want her dead. No ifs, ands, or buts. Have you ever been in love, Holly? Truly in love, I mean? Have you ever felt your heart pounding, butterflies in your stomach when you look at someone? Have you ever thought of that someone as your entire world?”

If the elf had initially been on the verge of saying something, her silence was now more than enough of an answer.

"Then you can't understand how I'd a thousand times prefer to be remembered as a murderer than to know that Artemis is in danger."

And with that, Minerva pressed play.

There was a reason, Artemis thought, why the Iliad and the Odyssey, and most of the western epics that followed, opened with a plea to the Muse to sing for the poet. And no, it had nothing to do with the human desire have someone else do all the hard work. If what Minerva had written on the plaque she had given her for her birthday was true – that Artemis was capable of harnessing inspiration to her will and summoning it before her with a snap of her fingers—it was equally true that every now and then that capricious goddess unchained herself made her appearance when she least expected her. And then Artemis would scribble on the back of a napkin a motor with greater efficiency than any available model, or jot down a light frequency that would allow for actually painless hair removal, or note down the conclusion of Schubert's Symphony No. 8 in B minor.

Or, just as it was happening now, she would find an answer to the question Holly had posed a few days earlier that the elf could have understood without etiological parables. And so, while on the screen a boy and a girl exchanged vitriolic quips (Artemis couldn't fathom how. The backdrop to their verbal skirmish was the Teatro Vincenzo Bellini in Catania, on which stage a spotlight had just crashed. How long would the magnesium flash blind the audience? Too little to waste her time on boasting, and Minerva's plan had been calculated down to the second), Artemis adjusted herself more comfortably on the sofa and asked, "Holly, do you remember what I told you that day?"

What?, Artemis could read in the elf's mismatched eyes as she raised her head to look at her. But Holly trusted her. A weakness that would eventually have bring harm to both of them, Artemis thought, but for now, it meant that Holly ignored the question that was shining in her eyes and answered: “Of course. That you had stuck your nosy Mud Girl nose into Foaly's computer, recalculated his calculations, and that you were better than him. He watched the recording while I was on the train, you have any idea how long that went on with...”

That wasn't what Artemis meant. She raised a hand, interrupting her. “Before that,” and this time she saw confusion in Holly's eyes.

“Sorry, Artemis. A lot happened that day. First the cement mixer, and then you and Foaly kept talking in my ear for hours.” She made a gesture: “We were chatting, I don’t…”

Chatting, the girl thought, feeling a little disappointed. Hadn’t Holly realized how serious she had been? Never mind. Remember, not everyone is like you or Minerva.

“Of course I understand, Holly. So let me mind you: I told you that the reason I… to use your oh so poetic image, stuck my nosy Mud Girl nose into Foaly’s computer… was that I was bored.”

The elf’s eyes lit up. Good.

“A few days ago, you asked Minerva why me and, of all the reasons, she answered with a Sappho poem. So, let me give you an answer too.” She gestured to the screen: “Because, since I’ve met her, boredom has disappeared. Everything I’ve ever sought in life is here, within reach. Minerva is my eternal xochiyaoyotl.”

Holly looked perplexed. And even a bit discomforted: “Are you saying Minerva is... a pastime?”

From above the elf's head, mismatched eyes and green eyes shared a glance. There was a reason why, since language was born, humans had explained the inexplicable through myth.. Artemis had just offered Holly a truth, and she hadn't understood it.

“Oh, no. Believe me, Captain Short: Minerva is much, much more.”

Minerva was the war she couldn't win (2).

Minerva hadn't expected to like the movie. None of the occupants of that room had expected her to like the movie. And, surprise of surprises, she wasn't liking the movie at all.

"Trés magnifique," she declared, leaving to her voice the burden to convey the outrage she felt. Sometimes, words were better spared.

Unlike what it had been with Artemis, Holly stood silent. She looked like someone who would have rather liked to be a thousand miles away. Or at least shield and disappear, Minerva supposed, hadn't she been out of magic. Not that there was anything to ask. Holly would have to be a total idiot not to get the reason for her being upset.

That's the idea the People has of me. A slut, the girl thought. If during N°1's kidnapping her digital counterpart had not behaved that bad (except for that ridiculous vitriolic exchange with Artemis. The backdrop to their verbal skirmish was the Teatro Vincenzo Bellini in Catania, on which stage a spotlight had just crashed. How long would the magnesium flash blind the audience? Too little to waste her time on boasting, and Minerva's plan had been calculated down to the second), in Chateau Paradizo – her home range – the digital Minerva was wearing enough makeup for a clown and has squeezed herself into a too small red dress that barely reached mid-thigh. And how she acted! The second-highest IQ in Europe, and yet there she was, rubbing herself against Artemis, meowing nvitations to her room. Minerva fuck me, Artemis Paradizo, indeed.

The cold, calculating side of Minerva knew she should have been content with that. If the People considered her nothing more than a slut, they were in for a nasty surprise once they would find themselves dealing with the real Minerva. On the other hand, her own pride protested: she was Minerva Paradizo. Minerva Paradizo, who at fifteen had kidnapped a demon. Minerva Paradizo, who had calculated the time stream equations that the People's so-called experts had gotten wrong (twice), and being treated like a clown for the amusement of some gripets didn't sit well with her. At all.

And then an arm pulled her closer, resting her head against a shoulder Minerva knew well. She smiled and looked up, meeting the mismatched eyes of her girlfriend: "Thank you, Artemis," she mumbled.

"For what? Who cares what the People think? We were there, Minerva. We know the truth. What is it?"

“Just this,” Minerva replied, pulling away from her just enough to kiss the corner of her mouth. Then she adjusted herself more firmly against that bony shoulder and remained there until the end of the film, not caring all that much how her on-screen self acted like a damsel in distress. Artemis was right: they knew the truth. And the People were in for a nasty surprise once they would find themselves dealing with the real Minerva

Holly stretched on the couch, her feet itching. The battle of Hybras, the playground of her nightmares, had come... and gone, leaving only a residue of nervous energy in its wake. It would be futile to hope that Artemis and Minerva wouldn't notice how tense she had become as the scene grew closer. Not that she expected to see her own death on screen. To whom could she explain what it meant to be dead, and then not be dead? To Jerbal Argon, the LEP psychologist? Frond, no. And so no one knew, except Artemis... and now Minerva.

It had been Holly’s doing, this, and she had no problem acknowledging it. The moment Hybras sky disintegrated on the screen, she had been so agitated that when she met the girl's worried gaze, the urge to tell someone, anyone, had overridden every other instinct. And she had realized that Minerva's presence – and Artemis', of course, because she was there too, but like, Artemis wouldn’t have counted anyway, she was the one who had knocked out Abbot – didn't bother her at all. The Demoiselle de Boue had been surprisingly understanding, and it had taken Holly a moment to realize why: she, too, had been on the verge of death, and she, too, had been brought back by Artemis. This linked the two of them, somehow. And the elf couldn't help but wonder if the Holly who had just fought a troll and was about to be hit by a hypodermic dart would have ever imagined that one day two Mud Girls would understand her better than anyone below the surface could.

They looked so peaceful, Artemis and Minerva, one head resting on the other's shoulders and strands of hair curling between their fingers, and the couldn't help but wonder if the cold twelve-year-old who had ordered to shot her would recognize herself now, hugging her girlfriend and looking for once at peace. Holly doubted it. She could barely recognize her herself. Artemis had truly changed.

In the end, the battle of Hybras proved nothing to worry about: she, Artemis, N°1, and Qwan saved demons by fighting hordes of tentacled creatures from another dimension across shifing landscapes. And as the credits rolled by, Holly’s eyes fell on the clock. A few minutes to midnight. Minerva had said she was good with numbers, but it was still impressive that she had managed to time the movie, even taking into account the dinner break.

The two girls seemed to have noticed what time it was, too. Artemis' hands were on Minerva's hips, their eyes were locked on each others, their faces slowly but surely drawing closer, their lips parted in a languid expression. It didn't take a genius to guess what was about to happen.

And Holly knew what she had to do.

"Wait!"

Green eyes and mismatched eyes glanced her, surprised and slightly annoyed that their owners had been interrupted as they were about to kiss.

This wasn't the day the elf would indulge in a staring contest she knew she would lose: as soon as she was sure she had their attention, she darted towards theentrance, where Artemis had stowed all his equipment. Ignoring everything else, she broke all records to put on her wings.

A moment later, she was flying over the atrium. Two moments later, the mistletoe was dangling above the heads of the two Mud Girls. Artemis laughed, Minerva gave the elf the middle finger and laughed too, but her laughter was cut short when Artemis' hands gently pushed her against the back of the couch.

Holly hadn't expected Artemis to take the initiative. It was the final surprise of that holiday. And the final seconds of 2007 ticked away as the elf watched her favorite Mud Girls kissing.

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(1) Latin for: "Woe to the losers", attributed by Livy to Brennus, chieftain of the Senones Gaul tribe, after sacking Rome, when Romans complained about his conditions
(2) Jay Kristoff, Nevernight
(3) author of, among others, Tarzan and John Carter of Mars
(4) Ludwig von Bertalanffy: austrian biologist, author of the general systems theory.
Kwame Ture (then known as Stokely Carmichael) and Charles V. Hamilton applied it to critical research towards racism.
(5) William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, Scene II
(6) Latin for: "Death doesn't end everything: after escaping the pyre a shadow rises." (Properzio, Elegie, IV, VII)
(7) See Fools' Paradise: Honour among thieves
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