Archive of Our Own ^beta

There are two undeniable truths to how the strings of fate weave their web.

The first truth is that the universe is a cold, fickle, and deeply uncaring thing. When it pulls on the souls of two individuals and ties them together, it does not take into account the physical distance between them, nor even the likelihood that they'd ever actually collide. It simply takes, as the universe is prone to do, with little rhyme or reason. Soulmates exist. They are not guaranteed. And even if you have one, you might go your entire life without meeting. Or worse, discover that your souls are the only thing about you both that match.

The second truth, harsher still, is that the universe is not above making mistakes.

Scott does not enjoy dealing with the fae.

They're a headache, really. There are plenty of things he'd rather be doing. All of them, he has spent the last few weeks considering as alternative ways out of his sticky situation. But the truth of the matter is that Scott has worked himself into debt as a result of trusting the wrong people, and then trying to take shortcuts in an attempt to get himself out of said debt made things worse, unaware he was only digging the hole deeper for himself. Now, dealing with the fae is probably the quickest, easiest way to get his life back on track.

Not the safest. Certainly not. But that's neither here nor there.

"You're not the person they usually send," Scott says, narrowing his eyes with suspicion.

He doesn't mean to seem hostile. It's really not his business who of the fae makes their way into the human realm to come buy from him. As long as they pay and they get out of his hair quick enough, he doesn't care. But the man they usually send - Gosh, Scott forgot his name. Brown strands with a few peculiar streaks of green, always reminds him of a tree in spring, yaps a whole lot until it makes even Scott a little speechless - is what he's used to. And with fae, any change in the status quo can be suspect.

"Joel's indisposed," the stranger says. Her lips curl up, a half-smile. Maybe at Joel's expense. Fair enough.

"What'd he do?" Scott asks. He's already reaching below the counter for the items they might want to peruse. The woman looks at him, vibrant eyes wrinkled around the corners with amusement.

"The same sort of things he usually does, really." She waves a hand as she approaches. "Don't be too concerned. He'll finagle his way out of it."

The answer is annoyingly vague, but again, not Scott's business. He hums and leans his elbow on the counter, placing his chin in his hand. "Yeah, well, he seemed the finagling type." The woman laughs.

She then takes her time looking at the items Scott laid out. Humans frequently seek out fae when they need help. Magic, favors, tricky little contracts. Scott is grateful he's never sunk low enough to need to resort to that. Whatever deal you make with the fae always comes with a price, and that's not a pain in the ass he wants. Conversely, the fae don't need humans for much - maybe entertainment when they're really dulled through boredom, and can't rile each other up. When a fae claims a human, it's less instinct and more so convenience. But there are a few things humans are simply better at than the fae. Metalwork would be one of those things.

Scott is completely rubbish at metalwork, obviously. What he is decent at is striking a bargain, coming to an agreement, making connections, traits that make him a good middleman. He doesn't need the talent to produce what he sells. He only needs to do the buying and reselling, a talent on its own.

"Are you looking for anything in specific?"

Several minutes have passed of the woman staring at his wares, without them deciding on what to buy. Their face remained impassive throughout, not betraying what exactly they are inspecting each dagger and gardening tool for. But they look up at him now with a sheepish smile, shrugging in a way that throws back their unruly, ginger curls.

"I am going to be honest, I have not the faintest clue," they admit. "Those dorks sent me down here to get stuff for their yard project. Should have told me what exactly they wanted rather than just give me a big ol' bag of gold and send me on my way, shouldn't they?"

"They should've," Scott agrees amicably, smiling back at her. Wary as he should be around fae, he's having a hard time not leaning forward. Something about this woman simply exudes warmth, friendliness. Makes sense why they'd sent her out if Joel couldn't.

He thrums his fingers on the counter for a moment, eyes flicking across the tools on display in thought, then grins.

"You could always go for my highest-priced possessions," he says innocently, gesturing at the items on the far left. When Scott displays his goods, he always sorts them by value. Force of habit.

"They're the most expensive because they're the best?" the woman asks, elegant fingers already gliding over a slim silver blade.

Lying to the fae is a rookie mistake. They can sense lies.

"Not exactly," Scott says, leaning back with pursed lips. "Sometimes they're expensive because they're made out of rare materials. Or because the seller was being a dick." The woman snorts at that. "But they're not bad quality or anything, I'd never scam a customer. And hey, it's not your money, right?"

"It's not my money," she echoes with a laugh. "Fine, I suppose these will do. If they wanted something cheaper, they could have come themselves." She pushes a few of the tools toward him.

"Excellent. Definitely serves them right." Scott packs them up for her and puts the wrapped parcel on the counter. He reaches out his hand to receive his payment.

That's when their skins touch.

The lightest brush, the side of her pinkie against Scott's palm. Contact that lasts only for a blink.

Scott feels it like a physical thing - a jolt of electricity that courses through him and sets his nerves on fire. For a moment, it tugs on his soul painfully, and he barely swallows down a surprised gasp.

And then it's gone.

The woman's eyes seem to have gone wide for a moment, but when Scott looks again, her expression has changed. Neutral, considering. If she felt the same thing - which she must have - she has decided to squash it down. Scott does the same.

"I'll tell Joel you said hi," the woman says, smile a little more forced this time, hardly contained energy. "See you next time, Scott."

She knows his name. For some reason, that makes Scott's heart skip a beat.

"Wait," Scott calls after her as she's already at the door. "Tell me your name, at least? I like to know who I'm doing business with."

She tilts her head as if she's about to refuse, and Scott aches. But then she grins. "It's Cleo."

After she leaves, Scott presses a hand against his chest and sighs, the hollowness beneath not foreign despite feeling so much more profound now. A Soulmate. He has a soulmate.

But why, of all misfortunes, did it have to be a fae?

"Something happened, didn't it?"

Not for the first time, certainly not the last either, Cleo vehemently curses the nosiness of her soulmate.

Well, one of her two soulmates - three now with Scott added to the equation. At least Pearl has the decency to be subtle about how curious she gets. She's strange, that one. Always a bit of an outcast. Cleo knows others have been looking at her in pity ever since they found out their souls are tied together, though Cleo herself hardly minds. Pearl is harmless. Being eccentric is not a crime. Martyn, on the other hand… Suffice to say, Cleo has to keep her wits about her when he's involved.

"What makes you say that?" she asks coyly, keeping her voice measured.

"The look of you," Martyn replies, squinting at her. "There's something guilty about it."

"I don't know what you mean." Cleo walks past him, head held high and rolling her eyes. She's a decent actor, if she'd say so herself.

Not decent enough to deceive her soulmate. Their hearts beat as one, their hands would find each other even in the grave. Cleo hates it sometimes, she never wanted a soulmate before the universe thrust multiple upon her, always fine on her own. But that doesn't make it less true. And nobody has ever benefited from denying the truth.

"Come oooooooon," Martyn says, practically whining in a way that does make Cleo smile even as she keeps walking and he runs to catch up. "You went to the human realm, didn't you? Did something interesting happen?"

Cleo ignores him at first, but Martyn is insistent on making that impossible. He reaches out to poke at her side, Cleo batting his hand away, laughing.

"Give me a hint, at least?"

"Hm, something happened," Cleo relents, loving how it makes him so much more petulant.

"I knew it!" Martyn skips, almost trips in the process, but catches himself. "Man, why did you have to be so cryptic about it?"

Cleo considers this. They don't entirely know why their first instinct was to try and keep Scott a secret. Having multiple soulmates isn't too out of the usual. Not common or anything, just not rare either. Another hiccup of the universe, another irony they can't quite escape from. Your soul tied to several others through this web that keeps you stuck. Whatever you do, it's simply hard to be apart. You can try, but you'll find yourself constantly colliding regardless of the choices you make. That's why Cleo doesn't fight it. They don't hate their soulmates. They don't feel spite towards them. They're just… stuck with them.

But Scott is a human. He's different from them.

Perhaps a part of her is simply apprehensive that the others will come on too strong and chase Scott away. Fae aren't always known for their easy temperaments. And Cleo in particular strongly believes both Martyn and Pearl are a little too eager to act unhinged when they feel the situation calls for it, little as she minds herself since she's used to it.

Perhaps, more honestly, the thought of them laying claim to Scott at all makes her insides twist up with annoyance.

Of the many things that are said about fae, the fact that they can be fiercely possessive over what they consider theirs is often repeated. For good reason. Cleo never felt this way towards Martyn or Pearl, probably because they are fae themselves. Scott isn't. He's…

Cleo clenches her fingers into a fist. If they're not careful, he could slip right through, couldn't he?

"Cleo!" Martyn is in front of her now with his arms crossed. "What happened?" he asks again, insisting.

"We have another soulmate," she says lowly.

Martyn's eyebrows shoot up comically. "Really?"

"Really. The shopkeeper."

"The human?" She nods curtly. "And you didn't bring him."

"Martyn…" Cleo's voice carries a warning in it and he raises his hands.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear you." But there is dangerous mischief in his eyes as he continues. "If I were to pop down to the human realm, though, just have a little chinwag with him-"

"Martyn," Cleo repeats, sharper. "Do not scare him off."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Before he can turn away, she has grabbed his wrist. She pulls, slams him against a tree, and pins him there with her body. He can feel his leg press against her thigh, and relishes in the smothered yelp that barely passes his lips, even as she feels the pain creep down her own spine. Soulmates share some sensations. The closer they are to each other, the more those sensations will echo. When Cleo slips one of the knives she bought out of her billowing sleeve and presses it up against Martyn's throat, that sharpness reflects in a sting next to her own jugular that doesn't even make her flinch.

But it definitely is effective in making him go still.

"Do not. Scare him off. I'm serious, Martyn," Cleo hisses through her teeth.

"You wouldn't kill me," he says. "You'd die too." Two souls tied together. Two hearts beating as one. Soulmates, pulling each other down in death, hands meeting in the grave. All of it.

"I will skin the flesh off your bones," she replies firmly.

Martyn laughs. "Got it."

When she steps back, he's still grinning in that insufferable way only Martyn really can. As if all of this is exciting to him. Endearing. Cleo hates that she likes it.

"Don't tell Pearl until I have a chance to come up with a plan," Cleo warns. "We need to ease him into this, okay? Or he'll run."

"I said I got it," Martyn says with a shrug. "Geez, Cleo, I'd believe you think me a complete idiot."

"Yeah, I kind of do," she answers seriously. Martyn blows a raspberry at her.

She'd better come up with something quick, because she doesn't think he'll be able to hold back for very long at all.

Martyn breaks his promise almost immediately.

In his defense, it was hardly a real promise. He only said 'got it', and he did get it, he just elected to ignore it. Cleo is too worried, fretting about the small stuff. And Martyn isn't above getting his hands dirty.

So he tells Pearl what he discovered and begs her to keep an eye on Cleo as he moves in to check the situation out for himself.

A human. Their new soulmate, a human! His mind still boggles at it. Is it completely unheard of? Probably not. Martyn hasn't ever known of a fae having a human as their soulmate before, but that hardly means it hasn't happened. He bets that if it has, the fae wouldn't tell anybody. They'd whisk their human away to some secret place and never let them out of their sight.

That's what he wants to do right now and he hasn't even met the guy.

It's kind of the same with Cleo and Pearl. Martyn checks on them often, feels empty when he hasn't seen them for a day or two. When anybody else messes with them, it makes his skin crawl. He doesn't have to love them - even like them - to want them to be uniquely his. And by gosh, does he want them. But Scott is a human, so that feeling is amplified tenfold.

Joel tells him where Scott lives with minimal prompting.

Martyn does keep the full truth from him. It feels different to share with Pearl, she's going to find out sooner rather than later anyway. Martyn is getting ahead of the curve with that. And also, the last time he hid something from her on purpose, she stabbed him. Non-fatally, obviously. Unpleasant all the same, and it made Cleo cross for weeks.

There is a warm light streaming out of Scott's cabin.

Awake this late? Curious, Martyn thinks. Convenient too. He gets close enough to peek in through the window, vision half obscured by the lace drapes. The human, his human, is sitting hunched over a desk, furiously scribbling on some papers. He's rubbing his face with one hand and looks tired.

Overworked.

Yikes, Martyn doesn't like that at all. Humans are so silly, the way they will work themselves up over everything. Not having magic at their disposal must be a grievance, he supposes, but that doesn't excuse the amount of labor a human will often put themself through for small worldly comforts. Fae have it so much easier.

Good thing Scott won't have to worry about that anymore soon.

Martyn knocks on the door. He hears the chair creak away from the desk instantly, but it still takes a good minute or so before Scott actually answers. He wonders if the human hesitated because it's late at night. Cautious. Clever.

His insides brim with anticipation to finally lay eyes on this soulmate.

When the door opens a crack, Scott's foot bracing against it, Martyn does his best to smile disarmingly.

"Hi, hello, you're Scott, right?"

The other man scrunches up his face in confusion, but Martyn sees the exact moment Scott takes in his appearance and realizes he's a fae. It's usually pretty easy to tell, what with the flowers woven in his hair, the ethereal fashion that's popular among their kind. They will get Scott some of that posthaste. Not only will he look more stylish, it's only right if he's going to belong to the fae realm from now on.

"Did Cleo send you?" Scott asks. His eyes are pulled up to Martyn's, sky blue, alight.

And, ouch, Martyn won't pretend that one didn't hurt a little. He'll let it slide, though. As far as Scott is currently aware, he only has one soulmate. Natural inclination would make him long to see her again.

"Yes and no," Martyn says. "Uh, how about you just shake my hand, that saves us some time." He sticks it almost into the gap.

Scott frowns at it. "Yeah, no, that's not happening." Right, probably a little suspicious. Fae are notorious deal makers. Scott already did a remarkable job so far whenever interacting with them, allowing them to know his name without ever being talked into officially handing it over. A good thing too, or he'd have been the property of whatever fae managed to squeeze that out of him. Martyn can hardly stand imagining it!

"Here." He turns his hand over, palm facing down. Not a handshake. "No deals, promise. Just touch me properly, it'll make sense."

"Gross," Scott deadpans, earning a chuckle from Martyn. But he does briefly lay his fingers against Martyn's own.

Their souls are connected.

Scott pulls away with a flinch, then steps back fully and groans, hands in his hair. "Seriously? Two fae soulmates? Two fucking soulmates? Why does the universe hate me?!"

"Three, actually," Martyn says easily as he slips inside the house. "Didn't Cleo tell you?"

"She ran off before I could ask any questions," Scott complains bitterly. "Real help that was."

"Sounds like Cleo, yeah." Martyn glances around the cabin. It's… cozy, he supposes. Small, a bit stuffy, very messy. "She was worried about how you'd react."

"I'm freaking out," Scott says.

"Yes, so that's exactly what she's worried about, actually."

Scott huffs some air out of his lungs, shoulders sagging. "No offense to you guys. I'm sure you're lovely people-"

"Debatable," Martyn can't help but throw in. He doesn't know if 'lovely' is a word he'd use to describe Cleo and Pearl, definitely not to describe himself.

"-but it's a bit much to discover your soulmates aren't even from the same realm as you. I already have enough going on, you know? And coming to my house at night? A lot creepy, actually."

"I-I'm sorry?" Martyn manages, though he's not at all. "It's alright if you're freaked out. None of us were expecting it either."

"The timing isn't great." Martyn gives him a curious look, and Scott elaborates. "I've been stressed out because of some work stuff. I got a bunch going on-"

"Oh, I could help with that!"

"Seriously?" Scott asks, caught between surprise and doubt, making him drop his arm. "You come to my house, barge in like a maniac, and then proposition me? Did that work on your other soulmates?"

Martyn chokes on laughter. "Not that kind of help! We fae are experts at helping humans chill out through other means."

"Yeah, so, you realize you're only making yourself sound more suspicious, right?"

Martyn shakes his head, but he levels the other man with a serious look. A plan is forming in his mind. "Soulmates can't hurt each other. Trust me, this'll help. Quick, safe, easy. You won't regret it."

That first part is only half a lie. Soulmates can hurt each other, but sharing pain isn't a great motivator to do so. Even when Cleo, Pearl, and himself were going through a rough patch, they've always held back. And Martyn is sure that with Scott around, they'll be even more careful. Cleo is right, it wouldn't do to chase their human away.

"Fine," Scott concedes, looking very put out. "But only because you're the ones who made me more stressed in the first place. And after, you owe me an explanation."

"Deal," Martyn agrees. And when that makes Scott look at him unamused, he shrugs. "Turn of phrase."

"Just get on with it," Scott complains.

Martyn certainly doesn't make him ask again.

Since Martyn requested it so nicely, Pearl keeps her eyes on Cleo the entire night.

It's awfully boring, but she enjoys it all the same. Pearl has always enjoyed looking at her soulmates from afar, watching them go about their daily lives. Pearl couldn't join them if she wanted to. No, she was born 'off'. A wrong'un. Unseelie, they'd whisper. Cursed where everybody else is blessed.

Pearl laughs in the face of such superstitions. She has three whole soulmates, and the ones who cast her out had none. Who's the blessed one now?

Regardless, Martyn promised that he'd bring the human back with him. That's reason enough to go along with his plan.

But the minutes turn into hours, and then the creeping approach of dawn. Martyn doesn't return, and Pearl sighs deeply, stroking her fingers through Tilly's soft fur. The wolf whines low in its throat, feeling Pearl's upset. Martyn lied to her. Either that or he meant it when he said it and then changed his mind somewhere along the way. Does it matter which one of the two? Probably. Pearl doesn't know.

Anger burns in her chest like a forest fire, as it often does.

She marches down to Martyn's home. She'll give him a piece of her mind. They've always had a good thing going - Cleo, Martyn, and her. Ever since it turned out they are soulmates, which must have come as a shock to them, since it came as a shock to Pearl. She had nobody. Her entire life, she had nobody. Now there's a human in the mix, sure, but that's no reason to act so spiteful towards her.

"He's just being silly," Pearl says. A breeze that stirs across the forest at night swallows up her words. "Obsessed with a shiny new toy. He forgot he has to share. Yes. He's our human, isn't he, Tilly?" Her wolf nips at her heels, following close behind. "What will he be like, you think? Smart, like Cleo? Funny, like Martyn? Maybe he'll be lonely, like us before I had the soulmates, remember?"

It was hard, being alone. And even after finding out about her soulmates, that didn't mean the rest of the fae magically accepted Pearl, or that her soulmates did. But that's okay. Pearl appreciates them from a distance. Sometimes it aches, yearns like a gaping pit of hunger that no amount of affection can ever fill. But then she'll see Cleo smile, or hear Martyn laugh, a fleeting touch, or an impression of their pain left on her skin, and her appetite vanishes. They're happy. She's happy. The human will make them happy, and they him.

"Martyn?" Pearl slams her fist into the wooden door of his cabin. "Are you there?"

She hears a curse, something falling off the table. When she turns the knob, Martyn has his back pressed against the door to keep it closed.

"Go away! I have everything perfectly under control!"

"I can have Cleo here in an instant," Pearl threatens.

Grumbling, Martyn steps away and allows her to come inside. His living room is a mess, it often is. Pearl knows it well from how frequently she's snooped around in there. But more pressingly, there is a human sitting on the couch.

Their human.

Pearl grins wider, feeling it split her face open. Oh, how wonderful. Except, when she hurries to crouch in front of the man, his gaze seems dazed and unfocused. His eyes are a pretty ocean blue in color, with parts that are pale as the morning sky and others deep like the start of night. All of it is kind of washed over, though. Entranced.

Oh, that's exactly what it is.

"Did you thrall him?" she asks, confused. That's an interesting thing to do for no reason. And usually can only be done if- "Do you have his name?!" She stands and whirls on Martyn suddenly.

No fair! If Martyn has his name, he's more his than theirs. That shouldn't be allowed!

"No, no, nothing like that." Martyn comes over while scratching his chin. "He gave me permission just this once, but I…" He trails off.

Pearl looks back at the human. He seems relaxed, and that's good. He's not in pain, or she'd feel it. She wonders what it's like to be thralled, actually. She's never seen it before, since fae can't thrall other fae, and Pearl stays as far away from the human realm as she can manage. They think she's cursed even more so than the other fae do.

"I… don't know… how to make it wear off," Martyn admits haltingly. Pearl laughs slightly. "I've never done it before, okay?"

"Me neither," she says.

Would it be that bad to keep the human thralled forever, though? In a happy little daze, completely content. Martyn could order him to eat, drink, all of that. Then again, their human wouldn't be able to talk or think for himself. That'd be a pity. Pearl wants to talk to her soulmates.

"You okay, bud?" Martyn asks, carefully touching the man's shoulder. The human nods, smiling vaguely. "Good, uhm…"

Pearl doesn't see Martyn this confounded often. Suppose that means she should be good and help out.

In Martyn's fireplace, there are flames licking at large logs of wood to keep the chill out. Pearl walks over, and without warning or hesitation, sticks her hand into the fire. Her skin burns, her flesh almost curdles with it. Pain, sharp and intense, washing over her. Martyn yelps, and then she hears the human snap out of the thrall with a gasp, too. Pearl takes her arm away and flicks a finger at it so that magic will kickstart the healing process.

"Sorry," she giggles, walking back over.

"Don't fucking do that!" Martyn yells, wagging his own arm as if it's still caught on fire.

"What's-" The human shoots up from the couch. "This is not my house!"

Martyn spins toward him. "Remember how I told you I'd help you relax-" But it does little to calm the human down.

"You kidnapped me is the issue," he says, dangerously low.

Though, with a hint of amusement, Pearl notices the human does not sound genuinely angry. Maybe more like irritated.

That's the thing about soulmates. Tied together, for better or worse. No use fighting it.

Sometimes, Pearl wonders if it's even possible to hate - truly, deeply hate - your soulmates. She tried. When she felt rejected by the entire world, and discovered that even the people meant to be hers forever had discarded her without even knowing her, she wished to feel that loathing so deep it would drown out all the rest. The longing and the comfort and the sense of finally belonging to something, to someone. It never worked.

"Well, you know, it was a- An accidental kidnapping at best," Martyn says. "I wanted you to calm down, and then I thought 'why not?'. Why not bring you here to properly meet us, so we could soothe your fears-"

"I'm Pearl," Pearl cuts in. "Pleasure."

"Likewise?" The human answers, blinking at her.

"This is Tilly," Pearl adds, indicating the wolf lying at her feet. Tilly is such a good girl. She's probably excited to meet their new human, but is being so polite about it.

"Hi Tilly," Scott says, sounding resigned.

And then somebody pounds on the door. Hard.

"Martyn? Pearl? I know you're both in there!" Ah, right, maybe burning her arm was a bit much. Cleo certainly must have felt it too.

But Pearl just laughs and claps her hands together. "What a lovely reunion!"

There are two undeniable truths to how the strings of fate weave their web.

Scott knew about them. He never suspected he'd be subjected to them so blatantly. Having not one, but three soulmates? It's a lot of work. Especially if they're so needy all the time. Fae are a pain to deal with, exactly the way Scott knew they would be.

"You could stay just a liiiitle longer, couldn't you?" Martyn asks. Only to be kicked in the back by Cleo.

"Ouch," Scott intones flatly. Cleo throws him an apologetic grin.

"Oops." Her fingers work their way through Pearl's hair, pulling long strands together into a braid. She insisted on putting flowers in Scott's hair, and then Martyn and Pearl wanted some too, so now this is how they're spending Scott's once-a-week agreed visit.

There were a few conditions he set before agreeing to anything.

They all had to make an effort to play nice while they were together. Scott absolutely would not do three separate visits a week, timing himself rigidly so he spent an equal amount of time with all of them, lest their jealousy would get out of hand. It still does, despite his precautions, but he tries to keep it to a minimum. They also discussed how long each of Scott's visits would last, and how they aren't supposed to show up at his house unannounced anymore. It scares away his customers.

And then there's one more thing.

"Your shoulders are tense," Martyn says into his ear, leaning closer. "Just saying, if you need to relax again."

"I'll ask," Scott says, pushing him away. Martyn laughs. Scott is blushing and he knows it.

The whole thralling thing. Scott can't deny it felt nice, it's effective. But they can only do it with permission, they agreed on that. And he makes Martyn weave how long the trance will last into the magic beforehand, so they don't need to resort to burned skin again - or any other nasty surprises.

"Knock it off, lovebirds," Cleo says, brushing off her skirt as she stands. "It's time for lunch. I'm starving." She holds out a hand to help him stand.

Scott takes it.