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The king, sitting on his throne, listened to his captain’s words. His ageless face looked lazily towards JC, as if bored by the situation. If it had been anyone else, JC knew they probably would have given them mouth for it but the situation was bad. Really bad.
See, JC knew they weren’t the sweetest cookie in the jar but that didn’t mean they were completely stupid. Working for a Fae? Fine. Working for a Fae with a somewhat famous nickname? Okay. Working for a Fae with a nickname like “The Iron Witch”? You looked up the Fae as soon as you could.
It took some time and a few suspicious blogs before they found something. And even then it was barely a line about how “The Iron Witch” had led a rebellion against the kingdom of Ivae.
So when coming face to face with the king and heiress of Ivae… JC didn’t feel confident in their chances of survival. They would have to deny any knowledge of Bob, at all cost.
“Why did you kill one of my fairies?” The king asked and JC blinked as their focus left their thoughts.
They took a breath and their lips started moving, their vocal cords vibrating, but no sound came out of their mouth.
“You may speak.” The king gracefully and lazily waved his right hand.
The magic washed over them for a second before the sound that they could feel stopped in their mouth managed to move through the air again.
“Much better. I was kidnapped from Earth, tricked by a fairy glamoured as a helpless child. They told me I was their servant now, and refusal to obey would be punished. They also made very uncomfortable implications about their dad and what he would do. To not deal with that I acted in self-defence.” JC explained, trying to keep a polite tone of voice.
“You killed one of my fairies.”
“In self-defence.” JC insisted. “Put me under a truth curse if you fucking want.”
JC inwardly cursed the moment those words left their mouth. Both because that wasn't polite and also because not being able to lie would be a pain in the ass.
“The carpet you’re standing on bears this enchantment… among others.”
JC’s inner curses doubled.
“Why do you let people walk on it with muddy shoes? It’s goddamn beautiful.”
The heiress interjected.
“I think we should curse them to be unable to do harm and send them to the family of the dead.”
The king’s head tilted slightly.
“That might cause more trauma. Besides, their Fae master seems to be powerful and it might be better to negotiate.”
JC went completely still. As far as they knew, only one Fae knew their name, and it was THE one Fae they did not want to speak of in this place.
“Mortal, who is your master?”
“I recognise no fucking master.” The answer felt natural and also a bit aggressive. JC, since withdrawal, disliked the idea of not being in control of themselves.
The king’s brows furrowed.
“A Fae knows your name. I feel it in your magic. They are your master. What is their name?”
And now JC knew they were doomed. Irrevocably. But they would do their best not to drag Bob with them.
“I don’t know her name.”
“Her nickname then.”
“I call her Bob.”
The heiress scoffed and muttered.
“What proper Fae would accept that disgustingly mortal name?”
The king continued.
“Does she have a nickname we would recognise?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
JC’s mouth shut suddenly. Their upper and lower teeth clashing against each other. The guards behind them stirred a little.
The king’s magic connected to the carpet’s and JC felt slightly compelled to answer. They started shaking.
When a few seconds passed and still no name left their mouth, the king increased the compulsion. JC’s breath grew difficult. It felt to them as if the air was trying to escape their lungs, to form words they fought to keep silent.
It took three other increases before the name tore through JC’s mouth, voice raw and low as if breaking the trust of a secret.
“The Iron Witch”
The room stilled.
One, two, three seconds passed before the heiress turned towards the king.
“We should kill them. Now.”
The guards tightened their hands on their weapons.
The king’s right hand rose.
The heiress continued.
“Seriously. We should kill them. That traitor hasn’t suffered any consequences. This is a prime opportunity.”
JC’s lips thinned. They were okay with people having a point. Less so when the point was that they should be killed.
“Your highness, please don’t” the captain interjected “You're not the one who will have to fight her. And if she comes, you're not the one who will have to cross swords with her… again.”
The king looked at JC with sharp, focused eyes.
“What are you to her?”
JC sighed.
“I’m the baker in the Caffe she runs in Minnesota. Have run her whole kitchen for 2 years now for some fucking reason.”
“So part of her domain. The question is, are you an important enough part that she would come for you? That she would wage war for you?”
JC shrugged, their throat closing at the thought. They weren’t worth that much. They were just a stupid druggie who knew how to bake.
The guard spoke again.
“Maybe this one is an advance guard or a spy?”
The king looked towards JC, whose head was already shaking side by side.
“Are you?”
“No. I freaking told you. I was kidnapped.”
The king's right fingers tapped on his arm rest for a second as he thought.
He pulled out a phone from behind him. A nice one too. Agile fingers fluttered on the screen before they placed the back of the phone on the armrest of their throne. A call’s ringing resonated though the whole room. At the second ring, the other side answered.
“Hello, Grandfather”
The king twitched slightly at the familiarity.
“I have something of yours.”
“Would that something be a foul-mouthed human in jean jacket?”
“It is.”
“I want proof they are not injured.”
The king looked towards JC before from a head movement indicating for them to speak.
“Hey Bob-” JC trailed off, not knowing what to say.
“Are you injured? Cursed? Do they know your full name?”
“No. Silent cursed but as you hear, the king took care of it, and no.”
“Have you eaten anything?”
“No, and I am freaking starved.”
“Good”
JC hesitated for an instant before speaking again.
“Uuhh– speaking of eating, tell Cyrus to stop eating all the dough and also, I have a binder with recipes I was trying at home, feel free to take it. Also I’m pretty sure this can count as my two weeks notice?”
Silence sprang for two seconds before Bob’s voice sounded from the phone, filled with restrained anger and concern.
“And what exactly makes you think you will leave my employ like this?”
“Unless you’re willing to wage war for me, I’m pretty sure I won’t get to leave.”
JC could somehow hear Bob’s lips thin.
“We will have a talk about why you seem to think you’re not worth me waging war against Ivae. But for now I will say this and I do hope that everyone in the throne room listens and listens well.”
Bob’s voice that had started assertive but concerned grew cold and dangerous.
“This human is MY baker, an important part of MY domain and, perhaps more importantly in this case, MY friend. I claim them as such. If they are not released back to me at the proper date, unharmed and uncursed, I Will wage War.”
Silence dropped in the throne room. JC’s eyes were filled with tears that only stubbornness stopped from flowing.
The king spoke slowly.
“You would never win such a war. Not this time.”
Bob laughed. A bitter laugh, a cold laugh. One that spoke of hatred and amusement. Not joy. When the laugh stopped, she spoke.
“Of course not. But neither would it be the goal. The goal would be to ruin you. Burn your farms and food reserves. Destroy roads and bridges. Curse anything and everything I get my hands on so that nothing could survive there, be it beings or even buildings. Cripple you so much that the next crisis will destroy you. Will rip you from your high throne and put you six feet deep. Wreck so much destruction that for generations to come the Fae will curse your name for inquiring my wrath.”
Bob allowed the silence to make her point.
“Or you could return my baker. Alive, uninjured, uncursed, at the current date and time in the mortal realm, via the gate they left it through.”
“All that for a mere mortal baker.”
“Grandfather. I may not have a kingdom but I do have a domain. And you hold not only one of its key components but one of the components that are the most precious to me. A component that has made friends with all the other members of my domain. They are close enough to them that not one would hesitate to join the fray. Not. One. I'm sure you know exactly what kind of group this means.”
The king sat silently on his throne for a moment before opening his mouth.
“Very well, your baker will be returned to the gate they went through by Earth’s day’s end.”
—---
The knock on their entrance door surprised JC. Nicole was working and no one else really came to their place.
“Give me a second!” They said towards the door.
They quickly cleaned up their flour-covered hand under the tap before walking through their salon, reaching their door and looking through the door. Their eyes widened at who they saw before they slightly opened the door.
“Bob? What are you doing here?”
The Fae looked them over, checking for injuries, but finding only joggings and a baggy T-shirt both bearing spots of flours.
“Jennifer Charles. I said yesterday that we would talk about something. As it is something I am rather concerned about, I would prefer not to leave this unaddressed anymore.”
JC’s eyes blanked for a moment, searching through their memories.
“Ah. Yeah. You did mention that.”
Bob sighed as she pushed a warm plastic cup with a lid into their hand.
“Warm milk with pixie dust. I feel like you might need it. Do you want to talk here or somewhere else?”
JC looked at the cup in their hand for a second before opening the door fully and standing aside.
“I’d rather do this here. Come in.”
Bob stepped in slightly before following as JC guided her towards the couch.
“Anything I can get you? Fair warning, I only got water, shitty tea and even more shittier coffee. Maybe some syrup.”
“Water is fine, thank you.”
JC placed the cup of milk on the coffee table before heading towards the kitchen, taking a cup out of the cupboard and filling it with water. They took a moment to breathe before moving back to the couch.
Placing the cup in front of Bob, JC sat on the couch and took a deep and heavy sip of milk.
“So, how do you want to do this? Truth curse?”
Bob shook their head.
“I would rather hope you would not lie to me.”
What went unsaid was that she probably did not need that to read them anymore.
She looked at them for a moment before asking.
“Why did you think I would not fight for you?”
JC dragged a hand on their face.
“Why would you? I’m just a baker. I mean shit, with the recipes and everything? You could train someone in little time. And like I fucking know if it was a coven or a gang you’d help. But if you’re careful they can’t do shit to you.”
Bob looked at them.
“Are we not friends, Jennifer Charles? I do believe it was you that told me not to repay you because that’s what friends do for each other.”
They scoffed.
“I’m a shitty friend, Bob. Longest friend I have is stuck behind bars because I can’t fucking manage to put it into his skull that his entire paternal family are shitbags. And look where that got my second longest friend!”
Bob tutted.
“You could not have known Jennifer Charles. You are not responsible for Erik’s actions.”
They shook their head, looking at the cup in their hand.
“That’s the fucking problem Bob. I could have known. I know him. I fucking know Erik Bob. I knew that he wanted immortality and what do I do? I have you hire him when the staff has not one or two but three immortals!”
Bob started to interrupt but JC pushed on. Their head lifted towards Bob, showing the tears that were starting to flow.
“And when their birthday arrived I knew it was a hard time for him. I could have told him to take a break. I could have warned Cyrus, Rethu and you and I did nothing. Nothing! And now he is behind bars again, and it’s my fucking fault!”
Bob shook her head.
“It is not your fault Jennifer Charles. Know that I am incapable of lying when I say that I would lay absolutely no blame on you for Cyrus being kidnapped OR for Erik being in a mental space bad enough they would participate in it.”
“I was not enough!” JC almost shouted.
“And neither were we!” The reply, calm, came as fast and cut JC off before they would continue.
“None of us, none of our friendships were enough to stop him from going down that path this time, JC. That does not mean that we are bad friends or that we are not worthy of having friends fight for us. It means that Erik needed someone or something else and he didn’t find it. That’s all.”
JC stayed silent so Bob pushed on.
“We are still worth being loved, Jennifer Charles. We are still worth being cared for. We are still worth being fought for. I promise this to you Jennifer Charles. As long as you are my friend, I will always fight whatever I need to to help you, as I know you would for me.”
Their shoulders dropped as tears flowed freely. Bob moved next to them and embraced them, letting JC cry on their shoulder.
They stayed like this for a dozen of minutes before JC gently pushed themselves off Bob.
“I’m sorry.”
Bob smiled softly.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She reached for the water cup. “Here. Drink slowly.”
JC obeyed for a moment until the cup was empty and their gaze clearer.
“Did you ask for water thinking this would happen?”
Bob's smile turned into a small smirk.
“I thought it was likely yes. You seemed to be bottling things up. Are you okay?”
JC’s head tilted.
“I am better. Thank you.”
Bob smiled softly again and opened her mouth. Before she could speak, her phone rang with a particular melody. She sighed.
“That’s Cyrus, do you mind if I-?”
JC shook their head no.
“Go. I’ll be okay.”
Both stood and made their way towards the door.
“Thanks for coming, Bob. See you tomorrow.”
Bob’s right brow rose.
“Tomorrow?”
JC smiled.
“Hey I’m a stress-baker. It’s my own way of relief.”
Bob smiled.
“See you tomorrow.”