Chapter Text
When Luka Couffaine was a young child, he met a fairy.
It had been an accident, and the poor thing hadn’t meant to be met, but she was a wee thing herself and very hurt. He had been in the garden outside his home, listening to his da play his guitar while the firebugs danced in the yard, when he saw a flash by the old tree on the cliff. He hadn’t thought much of it at first, as the yard was filled with tiny dancing lights (and what was one more light in the midst of so many firebugs?), but there had been something that had drawn him towards the tree. Maybe it was the rustle of leaves as she tried to hide, though that could have just as well been the wind. Maybe it was the quality of the light, just a bit brighter and warmer than the rest. Maybe, though this was something he wouldn’t learn until much later, it was the fairy’s own creative spirit, calling out to a like-minded soul for help in her time of need. Maybe it was just his own curious nature, which was always catching him up in some kind of mischief — as much as his kind heart, so maybe that was what had ultimately drawn him over to the tree.
He was always bringing home little lost things, after all, much to his ma’s consternation (and his da’s amusement).
Whatever had called him over to that tree, he had no sooner stepped beneath the tangly branches than the little fairy had dropped from above. He’d caught her, shouting in surprise.
“What’s that then, Lu?” his da called from his stool by the door, the music pausing as his fingers stilled. “Don’t get too close to the edge, kid. You know how your ma gets.”
But Luka was only sort of listening, preoccupied as he was by the fairy. He did step back, but it wasn’t so much a heeding of his da’s words as it was shock at the little face staring up at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he had ever seen. She was shaking, barely able to support herself on unsteady limbs, her wings flat between his palm and her back. He held her close, instinctively shielding her from…everything, really. Somehow, though — again — he would not know why for some time, he just knew the little fairy was special. That he had to protect her, and keep her safe, and no sooner had that thought crossed his mind than she was falling back, those blue, blue eyes closing in a dead faint.
“Lu?” his da called, and he stumbled back a few more steps before turning, the little fairy clutched tight to his chest, and told his da that it had been nothing. His da continued playing, chuckling and saying something or other about weird kids, but Luka wasn’t really listening as he rushed inside.
“It’s ok, little fairy,” he whispered as he carried her through the empty kitchen. “You’re safe now. I promise.”
He carried her into the room he shared with his little sister, pausing to poke his head inside just before entering. He kept the fairy against his chest as he looked towards his sister’s side of the room. He was relieved to see it was still empty. It had been storming the past several days, and Juleka was still little enough and the storms bad enough that she had sought refuge in their ma’s warm embrace (and warmer duvet) the past few nights. With the coast clear and his new little friend at least temporarily safe from discovery, he scurried inside and laid her on the edge of the table between the beds, closer to his side.
He found an old trinket box, and he stuffed it full with soft, warm things (like old socks) before laying the fairy inside. He set the box on the table between their beds, where he could keep watch over her, and after a while where she did not move…he went to sleep.
The fairy slept for three whole days, and when she finally awoke it was during the dead of night and with a terrible, tiny scream. But Luka had been so worried for the little thing, and though her shout was not all that loud it had still been enough to wake him. His presence had only further frightened the fairy, who had tried to fly away but had only tumbled from the box when her wings spasmed and failed to work. She had sunk behind the box, cowering as she begged Luka to spare her, to let her go, she would do anything for her freedom…
“…but…you have your freedom,” he whispered, frowning. “You’re not trapped, little one. You’re hurt. You can go whenever you’d like, but…don’t you want to rest first? Heal? You can’t even fly yet.”
The fairy did not answer. Luka begged her to wait, and to be quiet — his sister was sleeping on the other side of the room, and he had not told anyone in his family yet of her presence. That seemed to surprise her, but still she said nothing as Luka snuck out to the kitchen. He returned a short while later with a fistful of bread and cheese and a small glass of cream. He set the food on the table, and then he rooted in his pocket and held up a thimble.
“We don’t have any cups that are…well. You-sized,” he said. “Will this do?”
She nodded nervously, and he smiled as he dipped the thimble into the cup of cream to fill it. He held it out to her, and though she took it she did not immediately drink. She waited until he was seated on his bed, his legs crossed and hands holding his ankles as he leaned forward and watched her. It took another long moment of staring at each other, neither moving, before he frowned.
“It’s not poisoned, you know,” he said. “I won’t hurt you, uh…ah…hey. What should I call you, anyway?”
Again she did not answer. His frown grew.
“Can you talk, fairy?” he asked. She swallowed, and his head tipped to the side. “I could call you Fairy, but that feels a little on the nose.”
She made an indelicate noise, and he grinned.
“You don’t like it, either?” he asked. He supposed it was fair: it would be like her calling him Human, though for all he knew she just might. She ignored him to look at the cream, and he sighed. He wished she would drink. He wished she would trust him. He wished…she worried her lower lip, and after another moment she raised the thimble to her lips and took a tentative sip. Her eyes widened as the cream hit her tongue, and then she tipped the entire thing back and drank it all in one go. She held it up to him, wanting more, and he chuckled as he took the thimble and refilled it. His frown had disappeared, replaced by a wide, missing-toothed smile (his first, he was proud to say). “I could call you Thimble. You’re about as little as one.”
“…no,” she finally said as he handed the thimble back to her. His eyebrows rose, surprised at the sound of her voice. It was as small as she was, and yet there was a clear, ringing quality to it — like the high church bell in town, but…softer. Warmer. It was beautiful. She lifted the improvised cup and drank, going slower this time. “I know a fairy who goes by Thimble, but that is not her name — or mine.”
“Well, what is your name?” he asked. She watched him carefully for a moment, and he fought the urge to shiver at the chill that ran down his back. There was something…not unnerving, but something about that stare. Her little fingers tapped against the edge of the thimble as she considered him.
“…names are precious,” she finally said, carefully. “You cannot give them as freely as that, human. And you should never take what has not first been offered.”
He’d been right. He didn’t like being called Human all that much, either.
“…oh,” he said, frowning as she sipped at her drink. She set the thimble aside to reach for a crumb of bread. “But I have to call you something. I can’t just go hey, you all the time – that’s rude.”
She was quiet for another long moment. She took a piece of the cheese, a piece itself but still huge compared to her, and nibbled at it.
“I could be a Thimble,” she said softly after a moment. She looked up at him, and he was relieved to see a small smile on her lips. “I do like thimbles.”
“Well, ok then. You’re Thimble,” he said. He crept a little closer, and when she looked up and saw his bright smile a warmth came over her that filled her head to toe. She swallowed as he leaned closer and held out his hand – or a finger, at least. “I’m Luka. You don’t have to be scared here, Thimble. I’ll keep you safe, and you’ll get better, and you won’t have to be scared of anything ever again. Ok?”
The little fairy who was now called Thimble knew better than to trust a human. Humans were cruel, capricious creatures, and what was to keep Luka from binding her and stealing her magic? He wouldn’t be the first human to try. Fairy magic was powerful, after all, and a family as old as hers was even more so.
…but Luka had kind eyes, and a warm smile, and despite every bad thing that had led her to that tree in the first place…something in her just knew.
Luka wouldn’t hurt her.
Luka would never hurt her.
Luka was different.
Luka was…
“...yeah,” she said, nodding as she reached out and laid a hand on his finger. Warmth filled her again at the touch, and for just a moment Luka thought she glowed a little bit brighter. “Ok.”
— V —
When Juleka Couffaine was young, even younger than Luka had been, she also met a fairy.
…sort of.
It wasn’t a real fairy, not like Luka’s fairy – or what Luka claimed was his fairy, because even though he talked to her all the time Juleka had never actually seen this ‘Thimble’ that supposedly lived in their room. Luka said it was because she was nervous around Big People. The Big People in her last home had been mean and had hurt her – she hadn’t even liked Luka all that much, at least at first.
“That’s dumb,” Juleka had said when Luka had first told her about his fairy. “Everyone likes you. You’re cool.”
“No, I’m not,” Luka had laughed, and he had thrown a clump of weeds from the garden at her. She had giggled and wiped at her cheek, leaving a smear of mud behind. “Maybe you’ll meet her someday. I hope so. You’ll really like her, Jules. Thimble’s the coolest — way cooler than me.”
Juleka didn’t really believe him, because no one was cooler than her big brother, but Luka also never lied, so she had to be at least a little cool, right?
Except months went by, and then a whole year, and soon Juleka was convinced Thimble was no more than a figment of her brother’s over-active imagination. Their ma said he got it from their da, whose entire family was…a little touched, creatively speaking. Their da said it was no surprise the lad would be spirited away by fairies: their ma’s side was a little touched themselves.
“Don’t you go leaving us for fairies, though, little sparrow,” their da said one night as he tucked her in. He tapped her nose, smiling widely at her. “Break my heart if we lost you to the Old Ones.”
So the day he had to go to the palace, and Luka had to go with him and their ma was too sick to watch her so she did, too, and Juleka stumbled upon the little girl with the elfin features and bright eyes and shimmery wings on her back…
“Don’t keep me!” she cried, falling back and scurrying away, curling into as tight a ball as she could to hide from what had to be a fairy, even if she was bigger than any fairy Juleka had ever heard tell of. “Don’t spirit me away to the Old Country!”
“…the Old Country?” a clear, high voice asked, and then a giggle that sounded like the chiming of the prettiest bells filled the little garden she had been left in. To stay out of the way, Sir Robert had said, while her da and brother entertained the king. She lifted her head, peeking out between her arms, to find the biggest, bluest, prettiest eyes she had ever seen staring back at her. Blonde curls framed a delicate face, and rosy lips were curled in the biggest smile…the fairy was holding out a hand to her, waiting patiently for her to take it. “Don’t be silly. That’s fairy stuff – do I look like a fairy to you?”
“…well, yeah,” she said, frowning as she sat up. The fairy was still holding her hand out, but now she was frowning, too. “You have wings.”
“Oh, these?” she asked, twisting to look at the shimmery things on her back. Her smile was back, and Juleka had the thought that she really liked her smile. It was pretty. “Aren’t they the coolest? They’re not real, though. The Royal Wizard worked them up for me. They don’t actually do anything, but they look really cool, right?”
Juleka nodded, because yeah, they were. The not-really-a-fairy turned back to her, and then her hand was in Juleka’s face again.
“I’m Rose,” she said, her smile all teeth and giggles. Juleka took her hand nervously and shook it, because apparently Rose wasn’t a fairy at all. Rose was just a girl, like her. “Most people call me Your Highness, though.”
…or not just like Juleka, because the only people that Juleka knew who would be called Your Highness were members of the royal family, which meant Rose wasn’t a girl at all.
Rose was a princess.
…Juleka wasn’t entirely sure Rose knew that, though.
“But you can call me Rose,” she said, bouncing excitedly, “because we’re best friends now! Do you wanna play? It’s been forever since anyone’s come to play with me – we can be friends, right? Oh, I’d be such a good friend!”
And then Juleka yelped as Rose leapt to her feet, tugging her along with her and pulling her into the tightest hug. And Rose could have been a fairy, Juleka couldn’t help but think, because she was certainly tiny enough. She barely came up to Juleka’s chest, though the pink dress she wore seemed big enough for both of them. Rose spun them with another one of her pealing laughs, and then she led her on a chase around the garden. They spent hours playing and talking and laughing, until a servant came to fetch Rose for tea and shrieked at the sight of Juleka, in her plain dress and dirty feet (because they had kicked off their shoes at some point to stick their toes in the duck pond), standing next to Rose, who now looked so much less like a fairy or a princess and more like a street urchin, with her own dirty feet and leaves in her hair and splotches on her dress.
It had been too easy, while they were playing.
To forget that.
That Rose was different from her.
A princess.
“A princess?” Luka asked that night, long after their parents had sent them to bed and everyone in the house was supposed to be sleeping. Juleka nodded, though she doubted he could see it in the dark. “Well, it’s good the King liked Da’s playing then, isn’t it? He’s going to be the newest court musician. He’ll be playing at the castle all the time now. Maybe you can go with him and see your princess again.”
“…maybe,” Juleka hummed, but she couldn’t help but think of the maid and how angry she had looked at finding the princess playing with a commoner. How angry Sir Robert had looked when the maid had handed her off – the low, seething don’t blow your father’s chances, girl he had hissed before they’d rejoined her family by the carriage. “That would be nice.”
Luka bid her goodnight, but she could still hear him murmuring softly from his side of the room for a while after. He spent most nights like that, talking to his fairy well into the night, long after he had supposedly gone to sleep. And she supposed maybe, maybe, she could be a little nicer to him about that.
After all, a fairy was no crazier than a princess, right? And Rose had been real enough…
Juleka drifted off to sleep that night thinking of her new friend, of bell-like laughs and sparkling blue eyes and shimmering not-wings. She hoped Ma would get better soon, but she also hoped Da had to go back to the palace before she did – and she hoped he could take her with him.
— V —
But life doesn’t always go the way we plan. It rarely goes the way we hope.
Their da did get the job as a court musician. He even quickly rose to the status of Royal Musician, becoming the king’s favorite. And while that honor meant great things for his career, it also meant long hours at the castle and too many days away from his family. It made things hard on their ma, and to Luka and Juleka it began to feel like every time their da was home all he did was fight with their ma. He never took Juleka back to the palace — their ma, and more importantly Sir Robert — would never allow it — but he did start to take Luka with him.
“He wants to play, Nanarchy,” they overheard him saying late one night, long after their parents had thought they’d gone to sleep. “And he’s good. He’s not old enough for the King to hire him on yet, but surely you can see what an opportunity this is for the lad?”
“I can see ye draggin’ him down the same worthless lot ye chased after,” their ma bit. “The b’y needs his father, Jacob. Not some bleedin’ guitar.”
But it was for his future, and what was best, and surely a sensible woman such as yourself can see that, Anarka? Sir Robert had always known the best ways to convince you of something, and soon their ma was letting Luka tag along to the palace with little more than a grumble.
Thimble, as always, was far less trusting.
“I don’t like him, Luka,” she whispered one night, speaking low as to not disturb his sister. She was curled up on his pillow, so close her nose almost touched his own. His hand was curled around her, and she was using part of his sleeve as a blanket.
“You don’t like any Big People,” he argued. She sniffed, turning her face away to tuck her head in her arms.
“I like you,” she mumbled, and he smiled as he leaned his forehead against her head.
“I like you, too,” he whispered, and though she let the matter drop she couldn’t so easily dismiss her fears. She did not like Sir Robert, not at all, and she especially didn’t like the way he seemed so determined to take Luka away from her.
They saw less and less of their da around their little cottage by the sea, and for a while it seemed they saw less and less of Luka, as well. He would accompany Jacob on his trips to the city, and while his da was busy at court Sir Robert secured him a place at the Conservatory.
“It’s music school,” Luka explained when Thimble asked what a conservatory was. “It will help me play better.”
“You play just fine now,” she huffed, and he chuckled as he noodled out a pouting little tune on his guitar. It always baffled her when he did that, how he could so easily read her — or anyone — and play out exactly how they were feeling. It was almost like a second sight.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to be just fine,” he said. “I want to be…I want to be as good as Da. I want people to feel something when they hear my music. I want them to hear what I hear, you know?”
She supposed she did, because Luka was a Maker, like her. He found his greatest joy in bringing beauty to the world, in sharing that beauty with others — in bringing joy to others. Her parents had done it with their baking. So had she, until she’d made her first dress. Luka used his guitar and made music. The most beautiful music she had ever heard, so why shouldn’t he want to share that music with the world? Didn’t she want the same for him?
Of course she did. She wanted him happy, and sharing his music made him happy.
…she just also wanted him home. With her.
She flew over to him and settled on his knee, tapping his hand until he stopped playing and held it out for her. There was a rope in her hands, the strings woven into a series of intricate knots.
“Then wear this when you go,” she said, fastening it around his wrist. She hugged his arm when she was done, squeezing him tight. “So you don’t forget me while you’re gone.”
“I could never,” he vowed, but she just smiled and settled in the groove of his guitar, drifting off as he plucked out a soft lullaby. After all, Big People had made such promises before. It wasn’t always their fault they couldn’t keep them: they lived such shorter lives than her lot, after all.
Luka would forget her eventually. All Big People do.
It didn’t stop her from hoping, though.
“I’d keep you forever, if I could,” she murmured, too low for him to hear over the strumming of his guitar. “If…”
— V —
And so it went, and for a long time they were happy.
It’s funny, how fast things can change. How everything can go from perfectly normal, perfectly happy, to not in the blink of an eye.
…or a knock at the door.
They knew their da was at the palace. Luka had been home, as he had come down with a cold that was making its way through the Conservatory and Anarka had felt it would be best to recover at home. But the weather had been awful, and Jacob had been worried for his boy, and he had spent too long away from his family, and despite all sane advisements against it…he had struck out into the night, determined to make it home.
His body had been found some time the next morning, though it had taken a while for anyone to recognize him. Sir Robert had come the second he’d heard, refusing to let anyone else break the news to the people he had ‘come to view as a second family’.
“To be honest, we can’t be sure if he was attacked by highwaymen or just thrown from the horse. He was…you don’t want to see him like that, Anarka,” they heard Sir Robert tell their inconsolable ma. “You don’t want the children to see him like that.”
Life was…different, after that. Harder, in some ways, but not all. Luka continued his studies at the Conservatory for a time, thanks in part to Sir Robert’s advocacy (and pockets). He claimed Luka was a rare talent, as good as his da (if not better), and he was happy to foot the tuition if it meant providing Luka such an opportunity. He would arrive early every morning with his son Xavier-Yves, and after sharing breakfast with the family he would round Luka up and cart him into the city. Anarka would sometimes follow, but she mostly kept to the homes on the outskirts of town, finding what meager work she could as a cleaning lady or farmhand to try and support her family. Juleka was still young enough that she couldn’t be left alone for too long, so most days she would accompany her.
“You should come with me tomorrow, Anarka,” Juleka overheard Mlle. Gentry tell her ma one day over tea. Well. Over Mlle. Gentry’s tea. Anarka was busy dusting the cupboards and preparing a stew for Mlle. Gentry and her aging mother’s evening meal. “The palace is looking for maids. You’re a hard worker – you’d have no problem finding steady work. And you’d be closer to your boy!”
“And what o’ me lass?” Anarka asked, not missing a beat. “I cannae leave her, Mira, and ye ken they will nae let me bring a bairn t’work.”
Mlle. Gentry had bit her tongue. She’d seen younger than Juleka, working in the laundry at the palace, but Anarka would not hear it. She refused to introduce her daughter to that kind of life when she was still just a lass.
“You need a husband,” Sir Robert said later that night, after he had returned with the boys. Luka and Xavier-Yves were in their da’s old music room, up in the attic, but Juleka had been helping her ma prepare supper in the kitchen. She was still working while the adults sat at the table with their tea, talking. “Blast that Jacob. If he had just waited one more night…you cannot keep on like this, Anarka. Legally there is only so much I can do. I am not blood — I am not their father. I am not your husband. This world is not kind to a single woman with small mouths to feed.”
“We be fine, Bob,” Anarka insisted. “I need no man – ne’er have. Me bairns –”
“Will also die, if you don’t start being sensible,” Sir Robert bit. His hand fisted and thunked against the table. “Gods’ sake, woman. Think of your children, if you’re too proud to think of yourself!”
And their ma was proud, and stubborn, but the world was also hard, and there was only so long she could hold out against its harsher realities. She wed Sir Robert by the end of summer, barely half a season after laying their da to rest, and he was moving into their little cottage by the sea with Xavier-Yves within a week of the wedding.
“I don’t like him,” Thimble bit as Luka packed up his side of the room. He would be moving to the attic, where Jacob’s old music room had been converted into a bedroom he would now share with Xavier-Yves. Because he was a growing boy, nearly a man, and sharing a room with his sister at his age was no longer appropriate, according to their new stepfather. Thimble was perched on top of the box he was packing his clothes into, but she was craning to look over his shoulder at the door. She’d been doing that a lot lately, seemingly always tense and on the lookout for someone to barge in, even if that had never happened before. “Either of them. They’re…”
Her words cut off in a hiss, a spasm racking her body as she tumbled from the edge of the box.
“Thimble!” he cried, reaching out for her but hesitating just shy of scooping her up when another tremor shook her. He had never seen her like this, and it terrified him. “What’s wrong? What’s —?”
But then he heard a thud and raised voices from the kitchen beyond his room, and he shot one last worried look to his fairy before racing out with a promise to get help.
The rest of his family was gathered in the kitchen. His ma stood by the table with her hands on her hips, Juleka cowering behind her as she clung to her skirts. Sir Robert — Father — was standing on a chair he had drug over to the door that led out to the garden, a thick spike of metal between his fingers and a hammer in his other hand.
“This be nonsense, Bob!” Anarka chided, even as he swung the hammer and drove the spike deeper into the lintel. “Ye accuse me o’ being nonsensible, yet here ye be, warding the house fer pixies?”
“Not just pixies — I’ve heard tell of all sorts out here by the sea!” Father said, and though he was laughing there was an edge of nervous to his voice. Luka would almost call it fear, but he had never known Sir Robert Roth to be fearful of anything. “You can never be too careful, Anarka.”
“…but the fairies are our friends,” Juleka mumbled. Xavier-Yves snorted from where he was sitting at the table.
“Listen to you all, talking about fairies like a buncha whackadoos,” he scoffed. When he saw Luka lingering in the doorway, he grinned at him. “Lu, can you believe all this? Dad’s acting like there are evil spirits about!”
He raised his hands, wiggling his fingers and pulling a face as he jeered a teasing ooooooooohhhh at them all. Luka frowned as he looked back at his stepfather. Evil spirits? But Thimble wasn’t evil — none of the fairies were! How could anyone look at someone as kind and sweet as Thimble and think evil?
“Mark my words, boy,” Father said, swinging the hammer again. “You’ll be thanking me when the drafts disappear and things stop going missing!”
Luka opened his mouth to argue — because it was crazy, just what did Sir Robert think fairies were, and was this why Thimble had suddenly convulsed like she had? — when a bolt of pain shot up his back, nearly doubling him. He stumbled forward, gripping onto the doorway as he grit his teeth. What in the world…?
“There!” Sir Robert…Father declared, swinging the hammer one last time and securing the spike with a firm thud! Again Luka felt a fresh wave of pain nearly sweep him away, seeming to sear through his very soul. Father was beaming as he climbed down from the chair, tucking the hammer into his belt and dusting his hands with a sense of accomplishment. He looked up at the spike like he was proud of it. “Just what every home needs to keep it safe: a bit of iron above the door! Trust me, Anarka. Kids. You’ll be thanking me soon enough!”
But Luka wasn’t so sure. The iron was cold and unfeeling, and it hurt just to look at it. Ma looked up, a frown furrowing her brow as she took him in.
“Are ye well, b’y?” she asked, turning towards him. “Did ye need help packing up yer things?”
“N-no,” he said, shaking his head. “I…I’m fine. Just…was curious about the noise, is all.”
He turned back into his old room, closing the door and leaning against it with a heavy sigh. He felt slightly better, now that there was a barrier between him and the spike, but he could still feel it beneath his skin. Cold and hard and unfeeling. Burning. He shook his head, thinking those thoughts were crazy, and turned back to the box on his bed.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, chuckling weakly. “Maybe Sir Robert isn’t…Thimble?”
But the box was empty, save for his clothes, and the window above the table was open. Just a crack. Just a crack, but enough for someone small to slip through.
Someone like Thimble, who was gone.
Luka never saw her again.