Chapter Text
Fae magic. Such a curious thing. It was counted as one of the most primal forces of the world, strange, mystic, a force of change even as the fae themselves generally did not. While some chose to shed their wings and propagate with their partners - fae or not - the way mortal creatures did, knitting new life with passion and flesh, this was not the sole or even most common way new fae were born, the magic itself being powerful enough to spawn new life by dividing again and again, a self-perpetuating cycle. Not for nothing were the Great Fairies called mothers.
So potent was this life-giving magic that it did not just create new life; it could Change the life that already existed. Mortals told each other stories, tales of warning to not linger in fae-touched places, to eat their food, to lie, to accept gifts, to give them your name, lest they take you, Change you, make you like Them. Much of their talk was old wives' tales, of course. But some of them had truth to them. Link, the Hero of Hyrule, knew that better than most.
The lad had been the product of a loving union between a mortal man and a fairy who had given up her wings to be with him, giving their only son vast stores of magic and the instincts all fae-born and fae-touched shared. And one of those instincts was that of Claiming, joining another's fountain or seeking out others to build one's own.
"You see, Linkie," Link's mother had told him once, sitting him on her hip as she stirred the pot of stew on the stove. "Fairies tend to be selfish creatures. We like pretty things, cute things, yummy things, good things, and we want to keep them allllll to ourselves. So, the goddesses also made us want to protect those things with every speck of magic in us."
"Is that why you always heal up my booboos?" Link asked around the piece of apple in his mouth.
His mother laughed her musical, tinkling laugh and kissed his forehead tenderly. "Exactly, my sweet sprite. We see things that are broken and we want to fix them. Protect them. That's why we Claim them. Just like I Claimed your papa."
"And me, Mama?"
"You’re already mine, dearest, you didn’t need an official Claim from me. But someday, you'll go out and find your own people you want to Claim. Or be Claimed by, perhaps. And then you won't need my Claim to keep you safe anymore, you'll be alllll grown up!"
"But I want be yours, Mama!"
"Awww, baby, you'll always be mine," she crooned, letting go of the spoon in the pot to give him a big hug. “But you need to go out into the world and find other people who are yours. That’s the way of things.”
But she’d looked sad when she’d said it.
“But how will I know which people are mine, Mama? How’ll I know what to do?”
“They’ll tell you, honeybee. And when the time comes, you’ll also know what Claiming style suits you best. Our magic is powerful, Link. It knows what we need. Just let it guide you.”
His mother had been right, as she usually was. Just a few years later, when Link had just turned ten winters, a moblin had attacked him when he was out exploring, following the directives its malicious master had programmed into all his twisted creations. The magic within Link had lashed out, protecting him, gravely wounding the attacker in the process, but the boy had been struck with remorse upon seeing the havoc his magic could wreak, and tried to heal the monster. The malice making the thing up fought back against him, and Link snarled like the wild dog that had menaced his mother in the garden one day.
You can't have him! he growled mentally. He's mine! Mine!
The magic inside him had sung, and some deep, instinctual urge drew him to prick his finger on a nearby teazel flower, and he bled one, two drops on the little nutcake he'd carried in his pocket for a snack, before pushing it into the moblin's mouth. The creature had swallowed it whole, and Link had pounced, metaphorically and literally, driving away the malice and filling the space that was left with his own primal magic, until the moblin had been restored and remade, given a mind, awareness, and a conscience, no longer a part of the darkness that had birthed him and eternally bound to Link's light instead. Named for the plant that had made his transformation possible, Teazel had become Link's first true friend and staunch ally through his adventures, popping up at opportune times to give him supplies and treasures to help him on his journey.
Just a couple years later, when Link was halfway through his twelfth year, Zelda Dawn had been kidnapped by Ganon's invading forces, and he'd been tasked by Impa to rescue her and save the kingdom. After many trials and tribulations, he'd finally rescued the beaten but unbroken princess from the cruel clutches of Ganon's cult, carrying her away from her wretched captivity with the help of the power bracelet, broken chains still hanging from the manacles clamped around her raw, chafed limbs. Wrapping her battered, tattered body in his warmest blanket in the safety of a nearby cave, he'd healed her injuries as best he could and begged her with tears streaming down his round cheeks to eat of him, to let him Claim her so that nothing and no one could ever touch her or steal her away ever again. There was no reason she, already a young woman, no longer a mere maiden, should have looked at him, still but a child on the cusp of adolescence, and chosen him as her protector. But she had, becoming in the process the older sister he'd never had. And Link strove every day to be worthy of the trust she'd placed in him.
And then, when he was yet a few years older, wiser, more skilled, he was sent on his hardest quest. To wake Zelda Aurora, the sleeping princess from an age long-past, a constant reminder of all the kingdom had once been and a hope for all they could be again, who'd captured his heart from the first time he'd laid eyes on her sweet, soft, slumbering form. To say nothing of when he had used the restored Triforce to wake her, and she'd opened her eyes, smiled, and kissed him so sweetly that he'd forgotten his very own name.
Asking Aurora to be part of his fountain was the most difficult thing he'd ever done and probably would ever do, even with two quests under his belt. He'd been sweating like it was the hottest summer day as he stood in the castle gardens and presented her with a delicious honey cake baked by his Aunt Mija herself. He'd already carefully dripped a single drop of his newly cursed blood on it, a shining ruby amidst a backdrop of fragrant gold, and explained to her his Claiming ritual, that she would be his and he hers for as long as they both lived, that nothing else could ever steal her away or place another curse like the sleeping spell on her if she was under his protection. To his shock, she hadn't even hesitated, accepting the meager offering and eating it in just a couple bites before embracing him to allow him to complete the ritual. He'd never been so happy.
Two princesses and a reformed moblin might have been a strange choice for any fairy's fountain, even a half-blood like himself, but Link was content. He didn’t need anything or anyone else. That is, until eight heroes from across time walked into his life in twos and threes, and he went from being Link the Hero to being Hyrule the Traveler.
Mine, his soul chimed contently as the nine of them gathered around the campfire for the very first time, just like it had when he'd met Teazel, all those years ago. The realization startled him so badly he almost dropped the half-eaten tomato the Champion had given him to tide him over until dinner. Mine.
He wanted them. He wanted them. He wanted them so badly it hurt, every drop of his fairy blood singing with it. He barely knew them, and yet his soul recognized its reflection and desperately cried out for them, wanted to wrap around each one of them and bring them into his fountain, bathing them in his love and protection. Not that they needed his protection, of course, but that didn't stop him from longing to give it.
But doubt complicated things, as it always did. They were not his. Not truly. And he could not keep them besides. Once their quest was done, they would separate, go back to their own times, and Hyrule would never see them again. Even if they consented to being part of his fountain, could he really ask them to undergo that compounded heartbreak, just for his own selfish need to keep them close now?
On top of that... well, it seemed like he was not the only fae hero among them.
The Old Man wore his branding plain as the marks on his face. Layers of power and gifts from Great Mothers and deities alike swathed his form, originally Hylian, but now warped, molded, Changed into something different, something Fierce. Something that monsters looked at and instinctively feared; something that allowed him to communicate and reason so easily with the wooden eternal children they'd found in those woods; something that fairies flocked to, like recognizing like. Even Hyrule himself found himself inexorably drawn to their eldest's strange, magnetic orbit, lingering near him when they made camp, setting up his bedroll as close as he dared to Time's, craved the shoulder pats and hair ruffles Time occasionally bestowed on all of them, even as a part of his hindbrain bristled every time he seemed to get too friendly with one of the others, torn between seeing the eldest hero as a source of reassurance and comfort or as a threat.
The Sailor was almost as ostentatious as the Old Man. Sure, he didn't have literal imprints of otherworldly power etched into his very face, but his magic still radiated everywhere, regardless of who would take notice. It was like he didn't even know he had it. Which... honestly, might not be far off the truth. The little Sailor certainly seemed Hylian, but his magic was distinctly both fae and deific. Light magic coursed through his meridians, the likes of which Hyrule had only felt from his princesses, and the elemental forces of fire and ice accompanied it, just like the thunder that coursed through Hyrule's own meridians. Air currents constantly ruffled his hair, tugged at his clothes, built around his fingertips, playing, cavorting, begging him to call upon his namesake in a way Hyrule had never seen the elements act around a mortal. Something very, very powerful had blessed Wind greatly, for him to comfortably hold that much magical potential inside of him, and he was no longer fully Hylian as a result.
If Time felt like a vast, ancient forest, familiar, watchful, both comforting and dangerous, Wind felt like a typhoon walking around in Hylian skin, a force of nature just waiting to be unleashed on them all at any moment. It set Hyrule's teeth distinctly on edge. Which was unfair of him, he knew. Wind was a good kid. Earnest, hardworking, dependable, capable. Hyrule was proud to call him brother. Him and Time both.
But part of him still couldn't shake the feeling those two were his rivals, as much as he tried to push that feeling down and bury it as deep as he could. He knew he was being irrational. He knew Time and Wind had done nothing wrong, probably did not even realize they were as Changed as they were or have the inherent instincts that Hyrule did. And even if they did want to claim the rest of the heroes for themselves, how could Hyrule possibly blame them? How could any fairy or fae-touched not already part of a fountain look at these heroes and not want them all desperately for their own?
The Captain was the most obvious. He attracted swarms of fairies wherever they went already, his beauty, his charisma, his goodness shining out openly upon the world like a warm, roaring bonfire, just like his magic. He radiated strength, gentleness, and a strange vulnerability that had Hyrule’s fingers occasionally itching for a bottle to put him in, to keep him safe, keep him his, all for himself. The faint remnants of numerous temporary Bargains had been layered upon his soul, fragile, callous things that had easily broken when the conditions of whatever deal that had been made were met, making Hyrule's hackles rise every time his own magic brushed up against them. His Captain deserved to belong to someone who would cherish him, not use him as a tool or a pawn and then cruelly discard him. Even Time and Wind gravitated toward him, jockeyed for his attentions in different ways, though their mutual jealousy always came off as friendly, brotherly teasing. The three of them shared an intriguing bond, though they hadn't bothered to reveal the extent of their history with the rest of them yet. In due time, perhaps.
Legend had almost as many deific blessings as the Old Man, and even more wonderous, magical items, but he somehow remained Unchanged through it all. At least, in Nature, if not in personality. Hyrule could tell that the prickly spikes on his battered treasure chest soul hadn’t been there originally. But the priceless treasures inside were just as flawless and dazzling as ever, even when they were hard to see. Luckily, Hyrule had a leg up on most people in that department. It was so very obvious that the Veteran cared so deeply, as much as he tried to hide his rabbit-soft heart. How could anyone see the depths of his care and not adore him, prickles and all?
The dear Champion, meanwhile, was a kindred spirit even in a group of kindred spirits. There was no one the Traveler would rather explore a cave or climb a mountain with more than his Wild. Hyrule never got tired of brushing his sunbeams against the laughing, swirling, rushing river of Wild’s aura, flowing here and there in meandering little eddies and streams, some areas shallow and straightforward, others hiding fathomless depths that no one knew what lay at the bottom of, not even Wild himself. And the food he could make! The others were pickier, sometimes complaining about the more experimental dishes the Champion made, but to Hyrule, anything that Wild made tasted amazing. It still had nothing on how sweet and refreshing his soul was, though.
The Smithy had been changed and shaped by magic, to an extent, but the magic, while fae-like, was distinctly separate from the normal fairy magic Hyrule was used to. Therefore, while Four was drenched in so much foreign magic that it occasionally made Hyrule itchy if he focused on it for too long, it still hadn’t affected the smallest hero’s Nature, just his stature. He was still fully and wholly Hylian, loyal, protective, curious, an open book of emotion, his mind like lightning zinging restlessly inside a sparkling, gemstone prism, fractured but beautiful, layered, so many facets to uncover and admire. His clever, skilled fingers held cold iron and steel without fear, making incredible weapons, works of art any warrior would be proud to wield and that any fairy would exclaim and delight over. Hyrule longed both to tuck him safely in his pocket and to adventure with him through flowers and mushrooms that towered over their heads, a world that only they had access to
If Wind was a typhoon in Hylian skin, then Sky was a thunderstorm. Definitely god-touched, like Time, but not enough to Change him, and therefore his terrifying power often lay dormant, his aura full of fluffy clouds and calm, blue skies instead of roiling clouds and white-hot fire. Calloused fingers coaxed such gorgeous sounds from his harp, sounds Hyrule could happily listen to forever. Like the softest down pillow, he offered comfort and support, always there when any of them needed him, with a hidden mischievous side puckish enough to put any fairy to shame. But if anything threatened the innocent, his loved ones, the thunderstorm was unleashed in an awe-inspiring display of power.
The Rancher, on the other hand, was a sun-kissed rock beneath Hyrule's feet, a constant, solid, warm presence despite the cool shadows constantly swirling around him, dark but never evil. He laughed and teased freely, eyes watchful and protective as he looked over all of them when he thought they weren’t looking, a sheepdog in wolf’s clothing. His brush with the Shadow of death had terrified all of them, but when he’d laid still and silent under Hyrule’s hands, the darkness threatening to swallow his light, Hyrule experienced a fear he’d never known before. How he’d wished to drip a drop of his blood between those pale lips, seize that flickering, fragmenting soul and drag it bodily back into the light! But no. Even if he’d acted so rashly, this had been a battle Twilight had to win for himself. Hyrule could not do it for him. That hadn’t stopped him from hugging the Rancher extra tight once he had gotten back on his feet, every fiber of his being aching to Claim the man so nothing like that could ever happen again. He refused to take Twilight from Time like that, though, not when he knew about the blood they shared. Those first Claim rights were Time’s. If he chose not to take advantage of them, then Hyrule would make his move.
And on that note, the scare with Twilight had been the impetus Hyrule needed to finally make up his mind. He resolved he would wait one more month. One more month to see what Wind or Time might do. If they were biding their time as well. And then, he would go to each of his brothers one by one and formally request that they join his fountain, ending with the two Fae-Changed. It was a long shot the Fae-Changed would agree, but it couldn’t hurt to ask them. After all, he did want them all. Even if he might not be able to keep them.
But that was a problem for future him to deal with.
Hyrule mentally cursed his past self as he jostled Four’s unresponsive shoulder yet again, the Smithy lying limply in his lap. Twilight lay a little ways away where he had collapsed, eyes peacefully closed, caught in the sleeping curse the whole Chain had bumbled into while they traversed this in-between era after their first dungeon experience together.
“Ugh, he still won’t wake up!” came Wind’s frustrated shout. Hyrule twisted around to see the Sailor kneeling on the ground beside an unconscious Sky, a half-empty bottle of water in his hand. The poor Skyknight’s sopping hair was plastered flat to his skull. Wild lay nearby in a crumpled heap. “Fine, I’ll carry them. You okay over there, Old Man?”
“Fine,” was the brusque response as Time heaved himself to his feet, Warriors slung over his back in a fireman’s carry and a limp Legend tucked under his arm like a sack of turnips. “Let’s go. You good, Traveler?”
“I’m fine, but I don’t think-”
A low, feminine chuckle echoed all around them. The heroes instantly snapped to the defensive. Hyrule lunged for Twilight, using his power bracelets to drag him to his side before laying Four on top of him and then standing protectively in front of them both. The hair on the back of his neck prickled at the feel of familiar magic twisted and darkened. No… it couldn’t be…
The other two had evidently had the same idea. Wind grabbed Sky by the cape and Wild by the back of his tunic and dragged them over to where Hyrule stood, tossing them both next to Twilight and Four and then drawing his own sword. Time stood back-to-back with them but kept ahold of the Captain and Veteran, trusting Hyrule and Wind to watch his back.
“Well, well, well,” purred a woman’s voice. “What have we here? And here I thought there weren’t any mortal souls left that were stupid enough to wander into my territory.”
“We apologize for disturbing you, cousin,” Hyrule called to the trees surrounding them. “We were not aware of your claim on this place. If you let us pass with our brothers, we will leave you in peace.”
“Cousin? You dare presume-” The voice stopped suddenly. Hyrule shivered, feeling invisible eyes and magic scrutinizing him before a harsh peal of laughter echoed around them. The three conscious heroes cringed.
“Oh! Oh, the fates do have a sense of humor! Heroes! Nine heroes! And three cousins to boot! Well, that does explain why my little punishment didn’t affect the three of you. To what do I owe the honor, cousins?”
“We did not come here to trouble you, ma’am,” Time said, shifting Warriors on his back. “We are tracking a Shadow throughout the eras. Perhaps you have encountered it yourself.”
“I doubt it,” the voice said blithely. “But that is intriguing information indeed. Nine heroes of Courage. In my forest. Ah, what would Mother say? Speaking of my mother, I do believe one of your cohort defeated and humiliated her, once upon a time.
Dread started to grow in Hyrule’s gut.
“In fact… well, well, well. No Claims? On any of them? Goodness! That just won’t do! Cousins! Have you no regard for your fellow heroes at all? Disgraceful.”
“We were waiting for the right time,” Hyrule shot back. “This none of your concern. Now lift your curse and let us go.”
“If you please, ma’am,” Time added.
“Mmmm, no. I don’t think I will. I would be a fool if I let this opportunity pass me by. If you aren’t strong enough to stake your Claim, then someone else will have to. Who knows what other entities you might run into on your travels. They might not be as benevolent as me.”
“Traveler?” Wind whispered. “What does she mean, ‘Claim’? What does she want? Why does she keep calling us cousins?”
“I think there might have been a misunderstanding,” Time said, louder.
“Oh, I think not. Half-blood! There is no way you have not sensed what they are. Have you not told them?”
“Told us what, Rulie?” Wind asked, brown eyes flicking questioningly to his before focusing back on the dark trees surrounding them.
“You haven’t!” The voice laughed its grating, high-pitched laugh. “Oh, this is turning out to be such a lovely day. Go on and enlighten them, little hero.”
Hyrule gritted his teeth. Why did secrets always have to come out at the worst possible time? And in front of an audience, too?
“Do it.” The voice had gone cold and sharp. “Unless you want me to do it for you.”
Hyrule exhaled through his nose before turning to Wind. “You’re Fae-Changed, Wind, Time. Meaning you’re essentially fairies. Through prolonged magic exposure, not by blood.”
Silence.
“…That definitely would explain a lot,” Wind said slowly, the gears visibly working overtime in his blond head.
“Indeed,” Time said. Stepping forward, he said firmly, “Ma’am, it is discourteous to expect unaware guests to play by the rules of a game they do not know.”
Hyrule wanted to slap him.
“Discourteous,” the voice repeated in a tone Hyrule’s hindbrain desperately wanted to hide from. “I see. I see! Well, then!”
“I reserve the right of First Sight!” Hyrule cut in desperately.
“What’s that?” Wind whispered to Time.
“I think Hyrule is basically calling dibs on the others,” Time whispered back.
“Ooooh. I reserve the right of First Sight, too, then!”
“Wha-?” Hyrule whirled around frantically. “Wind-!”
“I reserve the right of First Sight as well,” Time said calmly.
“Guys!” Hyrule said in panic. “It doesn’t work like that! We can’t all Claim them.”
“I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement,” Wind argued. “Anything to get them away from her.”
“So, you think you’re better than me, do you?”
The hair on the back of Hyrule’s neck stood up again.
“In a word? Yes,” Wind snapped, holding his sword at the ready.
“Very well, then, cousins. You all have asserted First Sight on these six heroes, and therefore I must give you two moonrises to claim them, as tradition dictates. However, they still trespassed on my territory, and nothing says I have to restore them to consciousness during that time. Still,” the voice continued before any of them could protest, “I would be willing to waive their punishment if you take on one in return.”
“It rather defeats the purpose of honoring tradition if you’ll put us to sleep instead,” Time said frostily.
Another peal of grating laughter. “Sleep? Oh no, no, no. I have something… else in mind for you.”
Hyrule worried at his lower lip for a moment before speaking up. “Whatever you do must be reversed in two moonrises. And we must have a fighting chance to actually succeed. You can’t paralyze us for two days or remove all our limbs or throw us down a hole.”
“Certainly not,” came the easy answer. Too easy.
“I don’t like this, Rulie,” Wind said quietly.
“Neither do I, Wind, but we don’t have much of a choice,” Hyrule said, biting the inside of his cheek harder. “Not unless we want to lose the others.”
“As much as I would like to teach this dark fairy a lesson, I have to agree with the Traveler,” Time said grimly. “We cannot attack her directly without putting the others in grave danger.”
Wind pursed his lips but nodded sharply. “Fine. You’re gonna have to fill me in on how to Claim someone later, though, Rulie, I don’t know the first thing about it.”
“Nor do I, Traveler."
“Well, it’s a little different for everyone, so-”
“Enough talk!” snapped the voice. “I will remove the punishment on the other heroes, and in return, I will place one on you three for two moonrises that does not entail putting you to sleep, transforming you into another form, or depriving you of your limbs or physical senses or faculties. You will still be able to hear, see, etcetera. Do you or do you not accept my terms?”
Hyrule hated this. Hated this so much. From the looks on the others’ faces, they did, too. There were still so many ways for the fairy to twist the situation to her advantage. Too many unknowns. But they really had no other choice.
He glanced to the side, locking his eyes with determined brown, then looked to his other side, one steely sapphire orb already gazing into his. He nodded, then looked out into the dark, dense trees.
“We accept your terms for two moonrises and two moonrises only.”
The temporary Bargain rose intangibly into the air and crystalized with a soundless tinkle of magic.
“Wonderful,” the voice said in triumph.
“So, what are you going to do?” Wind dared to ask.
The smirk in the voice was audible. “I’m just going to show you what you really are.”
The sound of fingers snapping. Then-
He opened his eyes. Blinked in confusion. Pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. When had he fallen down? Strange…
Noise… a voice! Oh, his prism had woken up! And his sunstone, oh, oh, his Intended fountain was awake! What a joyous day!
He scrambled over to the nearest body and wrapped his arms around it, clinging, letting his aura freely mingle with theirs, reveling in the familiar feeling of the warm, burbling river laughingly splashing up against his sunbeams.
He trilled, happily rubbing his cheek against blue fabric, all but purring when long fingers threaded their way into his curls and the chest under him rumbled with his river’s voice. The voice pitched up in a question, and he lifted his head and smiled into the fondly amused, scarred visage looking down at him.
Overcome with affection, he reached up and dragged his dear river down to nuzzle their cheeks together, filling his nose with the other’s green, earthy scent. Another voice nearby had him turning to see his treasure chest crouched next to them, head tilted to the side in concern. Concern? What was there to be concerned about? His treasure chest was always so uptight, oh, that wouldn’t do, that wouldn’t do at all!
His treasure chest let out a startled squawk as he reached out and pulled him closer, chirring contently, before pressing his river and treasure chest together and shoving them both hard onto the grassy ground. His Intended fountain definitely should cuddle more. They should all do that immediately! Closeness made for healthy auras! Now, where were the others? Aha!
His prism squeaked as he snatched him up, wrapping him in his sunbeams and giggling as his prism’s lightning zinged up and down his rays. It tickled! He twirled his prism around in a delighted circle and nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck, savoring the feel of the soft, unblemished skin against his cheek where he would soon lay his Claim. He could hardly wait. But first! Cuddles. He tossed his prism onto his river and treasure chest and went to look for his sunstone.
Oh, there he was. He and his thunderstorm were trying to break up an all-out brawl between the typhoon and the forest. Huh. Normally those two got along so well. What…?
Oooooooh. His bonfire stood nearby, looking bewildered and worried, his clothing and hair disheveled and rumpled. Well, that explained it. Ah, silly forest and typhoon, didn’t they know not to be so obvious with their Claiming intentio-?
Oh! He remembered now! That mean, dark cousin wanted to steal his Intended away from him! He growled low in his throat at the memory, gathering his magic to him instinctively. Unacceptable. Over his dead body.
He must Claim them before she could, there was no time to waste. Starting with his bonfire. His bonfire was clearly first on the typhoon and forest’s priority lists, too, so best make his move while they were distracted.
Giggling to himself from the thought of the mischief he was about to commit, he trotted over to his bonfire and tugged on his long, blue scarf. Eyes the color of cornflowers gazed down at him as his bonfire vocalized a question, and he adopted an urgent affectation, tugging insistently on his bonfire’s hand to draw him into the woods back the way they’d come, separating him from the rest of their future fountain.
His bonfire continued to vocalize confusion, but followed him trustingly, even when he tugged him into a run. He had to hurry. The typhoon and the forest could notice their absence at any moment. He needed to find a way to keep his bonfire safe and isolated so that no one else could claim him before he could. He knew just the place. He and his river had stumbled across it when they’d traveled here, it should just be…
There! A hole! Perfect. He trilled joyfully and changed the angle of his run so that his bonfire would be sure to fall in.
Sure enough, his bonfire didn’t see the partially hidden chasm until they were right on it. While he went sailing over with little effort using his jump spell, his bonfire had no such tricks up his sleeves and couldn’t stop in time to prevent himself from tumbling in with a terrified cry.
Without wasting a moment, he transformed into his Fair form and zipped down into the hole. He chirred sadly as he saw his bonfire splayed out at the bottom like a broken doll, eyes closed, blood trickling down his face. Painful sunbursts painted his ribs, and indigo miasma clouded his head and neck. Remorse stabbed him through the heart like a knife as he transformed again and fell to his knees beside his bonfire. He pulled his bloodied head onto his lap, petting his ruby-stained hair comfortingly to soothe the hurts he had indirectly caused. This wasn’t how he had wanted things to go! But if it would keep his Intended safe, then he couldn’t regret it. They’d understand in time. He had to make sure his bonfire knew he could rely on him for his every need. Protection, sustenance, comfort. His bonfire was very capable! All his Intended were. But he had to prove his competence to his future fountain so they would accept his Claim.
All his bonfire’s items went into his own bag, even his sharp sword. He paused, holding the ends of the long, soft blue cloth wrapped around his bonfire’s neck, debating whether to take that as well, before deciding against it. His bonfire looked wrong without it.
He cleared any handholds or roots from the sides of the hole so that his bonfire would not be able to escape before he came back. He then laid gentle hands on his bonfire’s cheeks and poured his healing magic into him. He couldn’t see the pain in his aura in this form, but he knew when the discomfort in his bonfire’s face eased that he was on the right track. He indulged himself a couple moments of tracing those lovely features with his fingertips, soaking in the warmth of that burning magic and the knowledge that this would all soon be his. He could hardly wait.
With reluctance, he pulled himself away from his bonfire and pulled out a piece of seedcake his river had made a couple days ago from his bag. The delectable scent made his mouth water, but he refused to touch it. His Intended deserved only the best he had to offer. Biting the pad of his thumb until the taste of blood hit his tongue, he dripped a couple drops of his blood onto the food and then set it on the cloth it had come wrapped in near his bonfire so he would be sure to see it when he woke up.
Oh, his bonfire was starting to stir! Time to make himself scarce. He transformed back into his Fair form and zipped out of the hole. His bonfire’s distressed protests and yells soon began to filter out from the deep hole, causing him to giggle in triumph as he transformed again before a brief wave of dizziness overtook him. Hm, he should maybe not use quite so much magic. No using his Fair form for a while. Which was fine. He normally didn’t use it that much, anyway.
Pulling out a handful of honey candies his kind, talented, generous river had given him a while ago, he popped one into his mouth and chimed happily to himself, skipping off into the woods to find his next Intended. One down, seven to go.