Chapter Text
The air of the Great Hall sits on his shoulders with oppressive unease.
He knows it’s mostly all in his head. Buried as it is under the ocean, the witches who’d made this place were skilled, and generations of innovation had only perfected the spellcraft. The air was thick at times, but clean and fresh. Everywhere, lights of all kinds lit the space, banishing the gloom of the ocean floor. Still, he supposes it’s a combination of all the water, and all the people, that really makes him despise the place. You’d think with how bold some people were about gossiping right behind his back, that he’d lost his hearing along with his eye.
The quiet bench he’d picked to eat his late lunch offered a much-needed reprieve. Better than the cafeteria, at least without Olruggio here to shelter him from the storm. Or, more recently, his students, who always offered welcome distractions.
“Mr Qifrey?”
He jolts, pulled from his reverie, as the sound of Sinocia’s voice registers. That unease permeating the air flares into full panic. He has to turn around completely to see her, standing as she is on his blind side. The sight of her face, solemn and serious, only confirms his fears, ratcheting up his anxiety even higher. There's only one reason she’d take the personal effort of finding him.
"Please, be at ease-"
He’s already launching himself to his feet. “Who’s been hurt?”
Sincoia steels herself. His breath catches, panic making him jerk awkwardly as he fights conflicting impulses to both sprint to the Healing Spire as fast as possible, and wait for Sinocia’s to speak. The Great Hall may not be his sanctuary, but it was supposed to be safe. Did Coco go through a Windowway again? Did the Brimmed Caps manage to infiltrate the stronghold somehow? Or maybe it was magical in nature, or… oh stars. Coco wasn’t familiar with the layout of this place, what if she went through a wrong door and drowned-
"Coco got into a fight."
His thoughts crash to a halt, leaving his mind perilously blank. Words have fled him, and it takes him a moment to remember how they work.
"What?" He says eventually, weak and confused.
Sinocia shoots him a complicated look. “She was in an altercation with another apprentice. Both will be okay, but well, with the injuries… it seems Coco was the one who punched her.”
He stares at Sincoia, feeling like he’s missed a step going down a staircase and fallen flat on his face. Coco hitting someone. Coco, who accidently charmed free samples at market stalls and got flustered accepting them. Coco, who spent a whole afternoon creating a warming seal for a nest of Mabbits who were caught out in the rain. Coco, who couldn’t bear anyone else’s pain, even asking if the dragon that had nearly eaten them all was ‘okay.’
"She's in the Healing Spire, if you'd-"
He's already up and moving, packing his lunch up in short, sharp motions.
"Please, let us hurry."
...
The journey to a Healing Spire is tense. They walk in silence, as Sinocia insists on patient confidentiality, and the walkways of the Great Hall are full of listening ears. A part of him wants to demand she elaborates here, now, on what she meant by ‘injuries.’ Another, stronger part, knows Coco doesn’t need any more rumours dogging at her heels.
They reach the Spire, and Sinocia leads him through a maze of corridors until they halt outside a a plain wooden door. He makes to open it, but she holds out a hand, gesturing for him to wait. The urge to see Coco whole and hale itches at him, but he pauses all the same.
“Coco’s injures are minor.” She intones, hands folding in front of her. “She’s bruised her pinky and the ring finger of her right hand the worst, but we’ve applied a poultice to reduce any swelling, which should already be minimal. The corresponding knuckles are also a little scrapped, but they’ve been cleaned and will be fine.” She pauses again, looking considerate. “I’m more worried about her mental state. She’s been quiet ever since she got here.”
Qifrey’s jaw clenches. Sinocia continues, solemn and heavy.
“From what little I know, the incident happened at the main courtyard fountain. The other girl Coco fought with is called Alinie, who is apprenticed to Mistress Dedriana. It’s been reported that Coco hit the other apprentice. Alinie then fled, but Coco stayed where she was. The commotion drew some adults to come investigate, and they found Coco sitting on the ground. They then brought her here.”
The information washes over him, but he doesn’t pay it much mind. Yes, it was undoubtably valuable. However, in these sorts of things, people always took sides, and Coco was at a distinct social disadvantage. Surrounded by rumours, disconnected from the Great Hall, and being apprenticed to him; all of these served to pit the outcome of this situation against her. Sinocia had no reason to twist the story one way or the other, but she couldn’t help it if it was the only version of events she’d been told.
“Thank you, Sinocia. May I see her now?”
Sinocia nods. “I’ll be waiting at the front with medicine to take home when you’re ready to leave.” With that, she strides back towards to Spire’s entrance.
He turns back to the door, taking deep breaths. He has not been on this side of this conversation before, and he knows how easily it can turn sour if he missteps. Steeling himself, he turns the knob and steps inside.
The door creaks as it swings open, revealing a similar room to the one he himself recovered in after Romonon. It is empty, save for the familiar figure perched on the end of a neatly made bed. Despite being lit with rich, sun-mimicking light, Coco somehow manages to create a gloominess all her own. She is hunched over her knees, head bowed, and hands fisted in her lap. Sinocia forewarned him, but he’s still alarmed to see her right hand is wrapped in bandages.
"Coco?" He calls softly.
Far from avoiding startling her, the poor thing nearly falls off the bed in surprise. Fresh fears of whiplash conjure up with how fast she jerks upright. Her expression is a storm of panic, regret, and a bit of fear. The sight of it makes him feel like thorny branches have replaced his stomach. He shuts the door and swiftly strides to kneel in front of her. Cutting the vast height difference between them always seemed to ease her nerves, but the way she flinches slightly makes him sick. He must’ve been too hasty.
“I’m sorry.” The words smear together, barely intelligible.
“Coco it’s-”
Now the floodgates are open, there’s no stopping the words pouring out of her. "I'm really sorry I know I shouldn't have and it was stupid of me and I deserve whatever punishment-"
“Coco,” He holds his hands out with a calm down gesture, “it’s okay. I’m not upset.”
Coco’s lip wobbles, but valiantly, she holds back her tears. “You should be.”
Hrm. And that was something to examine later, when things aren’t so fraught. “I’m more worried about you. Is your hand okay?”
Coco looks down to where her hands are gripped tightly in her lap. Alarmingly, he watches as left closes around right and squeezes. He may be no doctor, but he knows enough to realise she’s likely aggravating the injury.
“May I?” He holds out his hand to hers. Offering. He waits as she considers, before turning her gaze away and holding out the bandaged appendage. He hasn’t seen her like this… well, since the day he dragged her from her home, since they both watched her mother be subsumed by forbidden magic. Since he spoke to her high in the sky, her tears overflowing like rain as she begged and pleaded to fix her mistake.
Coco was ashamed.
He takes her hand gently. Rotates it slightly, notes how the bandage is thicker around her knuckles. How it wraps around her palm and is anchored around her wrist. He releases it.
“Coco…” He says, as carefully and gently as he knows how, watching as she lets her arm hang limp at her side. As her shoulders hunch anyway. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Coco doesn’t make eye contact, instead staring off at the far wall. Then, so quietly he strains to listen, and so thick with guilt that the words are hard to make out anyway, Coco begins to speak.
“I was having lunch at the courtyard…”
…
Some clock marks earlier…
To the background of the burbling fountain, Coco takes a bit of her sandwich while she stares up at the ocean above her with unbridled awe.
Rich green kelp rippled in the current where it was anchored to the rooves of the surrounding towers. Silver flashes dazzled her eyes as schools of fish darted through the water. High, high above, she could make out the intricate spiderwebbing of sunlight on the surface.
Everyone else had gone off to do their own thing. Master Qifrey had Official Adult Business, Agott went to the library to study, and Richeh and Tetia went to catch up with some of the other apprentices in the cafeteria. But Coco? Coco wanted to stay here and marvel. Everywhere she looked there was something new and beautiful and wonderful. Her village was far from any ocean, and the largest body of water she’d ever seen before was a lake. She didn’t know what to do with this, with water such a shocking blue, stretching on forever. She’d seen a Winged Whale on their last trip, and the sheer size of the creature had her keeling over in shock. It dwarfed whole buildings, yet flew through the water as graceful as a dancer, tumbling and turning. She hadn’t realised that feeling small could be a good thing. Somehow, the fact that there was life so much larger than her own was a comfort.
Tetia and Richeh had ribbed her about it, in the way that friends do. Even Agott had made a joke. Still. She didn’t think she could ever tire of watching the story of the not-sky play out in front of her. It was truly just magical. She’d feel silly and childish to still think that way, but Master Qifrey has always emphasised her love of the craft as something to cherish. And she couldn’t help it, this place was incredible. For example! The walls of the buildings submerged in the ocean were studded with a bunch of strange, sharp circular shapes. They couldn’t be rock, even though they kind of reminded her of the pretty opaque quartz pieces she sometimes found in the river back home. Master Qifrey told her that they were called barnacles, and that they were actually alive! They built themselves little homes of hardened shell, and if you were quiet and kept your shadow off of them, they came out of hiding. She’d done as instructed, and watched with amazement as colourful, feathery brushes emerged from within, sweeping through the water like brooms. That was how they ate, apparently. Urgh! Without magic, how could she have ever seen such a thing? How could a place like this even exist? It was just! Just!
Incredible.
She took another dreamy bite of the sandwich Master Qifrey had made for her earlier, humming with glee at the divine explosion of flavour. It was a layered creation of spiced chutney, finely sliced rhinocerox, fluffy egg, liongoat cheese, and merrypatch leaves. More than that, he’d placed the whole thing in a lightly oiled pan and pressed another hot cast iron pot on top to toast the whole thing. The result was deliciously crunchy bread, and gooey melted cheese that ran throughout the whole sandwich. She’d been eagerly awaiting this all day. She ate well at Master Qifrey’s atelier. Witches must be paid a lot, if he could always have on hand so much fresh meat and produce. Her and Mom never went hungry, but they didn’t have access to the sheer range of foodstuffs Master Qifrey did.
An ache suddenly rockets through her body, curling around bone and digging through skin, as she remembers. It hooks into her, biting deep, turning the food in her mouth to ash.
Suddenly, she wants to be back at home with her mom in the kitchen. Want’s Mom’s simple soups. Wants the slightly stale bread. Wants to sit at their small table at home in the evening, sharing a smile for a meal that had come together under both their hands. Wants and wants and knows she cannot have it, because that place is gone. All because of her.
She grits her teeth against the pain, against the inky tide that tries to drag her under. She hates this. Hates it. Hates being blindsided. Hates not knowing when these episodes will strike. Hates the feeling like her world is shattering around her again and again and again.
Could she even recall the taste of her mom’s cooking? What else had she lost, never to get back, while she was having fun in the world of magic? The thought makes her throat tighten, cold seeping down her spine. Tears prickle in her eyes.
“You.” The unfamiliar voice snaps her back to the courtyard, to the fountain, to the ocean around her. She breathes, forcing her chest to expand against the tightness. She looks up.
There is a girl standing in front of her, arms folded. Curly brown hair frames a round face. Her brown eyes are narrowed in anger, her lips pressed into a thin, hard line. She’s bedecked in silky black with deep maroon lining. Golden buttons line the lapels of her cloak, tassels handing at the clasp where it drapes over her shoulders. Her cap is in matching colours, the point christened with intricately woven golden chains. Just from looking at her, Coco can tell her clothes are well made. There isn’t a stitch out of place, and the very construction is beautiful in its simplicity and elegance. She longs to run her hand over such fine-looking fabric. The look on her face says it would be very unwise to ask.
“I, Alinie, apprentice to Master Dedriana, formally challenge you to a fight.”
Um. What.
She hears a low chorus of gasps, and realises that there are other kids gathering behind the girl, Alinie. They stand a little further back, nudging each other, giggling, murmuring, waiting. An excitement began to sting in the air, eager and miasmic. She recognises the look in their eyes. Anticipation.
“What? No!” She squawks, waving her arms. Was this girl insane? She wasn’t going to start fighting in the middle of the courtyard! Right at the Great Hall! And why? Why was she even starting one to begin with?
“Ha!” Alinie laughs, hands planting on her hips in triumph. “A coward after all, I knew it.”
Coco just shook her head. Not because she disagreed, really, but because her head was still kind of spinning from the abrupt change and she needed to clear it.
“I don’t want to fight.” She held up her hands.
“Well, I do.” The girl sounds very proper. Kind of like Agott, actually.
“Why?” She didn’t even know her.
“Because, after that stunt you pulled, someone needs to put your dirty little Outsider self in place, and it seems that task has fallen to me.”
Oh.
“I…” Coco’s eyes widen, and fear kicks through her, hard and sharp. “You…?” Tetia and Richeh had already heard the rumours, following the day that haunts her every hour and breath. As had Mister Nolnoa, sometime later. Master Qifrey warned her word travelled fast, but she didn’t think…
“Oh, I know who you are.” Alinie said, with a smile that was more a baring of teeth. “We all do. You’re the dirt. The rot. The filth. The stupid, ignorant Outsider. You’re a mar on the Great Hall and all witch kind, and it would serve everyone better if you crawled back to where you came from.
Everything feels frozen around her. It’s like there’s a cavern being carved through her ribs. She knew…she knew her very existence was an issue. Agott had said much the same thing. But still, here and now, with this girl, surrounded by other apprentices, it all felt so much worse. Humiliatingly, she feels the tell-tale hot burn in her eyes that told her tears wouldn’t be far behind. She couldn’t cry here, not in front of all these people. She needs to find Tetia, Richeh or Agott. Or Master Qifrey. Needs to get back to safe ground. Needs to lock herself in her room, crawl under her covers, and fall apart with no one else around to see.
With that in mind, she turns to grab her bag, but Alinie bounces forward. She leans down to peer at Coco’s face.
“Your pretty ugly.” She states bluntly, eyes narrowing and tapping her chin as if closely inspecting a spell. Wait!” She says, joyous like she’s had an epiphany. “I think I recognise your face actually!”
“Please step aside.” Coco asks, staring at the ground. Mortified, she feels the tears welling, and knows she has minutes at most.
“Was it your father or mother?”
“What?” Coco whispers, her stomach lurching sickeningly. She whips her head up, caught off guard, and catches the triumphant glint in Alinie’s eyes.
How could-how did?
“The one who fucked a Frillram.” Alinie tilts her head, consideringly. “I hear the peasants who live out with the animals and sleep among their shit get lonely at night.”
Coco doesn’t answer. They don’t know know. But. She feels too big for her body, like one wrong move might burst her skin open. She blinks and sees Mom’s face, frozen and screaming. She needs to go.
“Twenty marks said it was the mom.” Alinie laughs to one of the girls behind her.
The dam shatters.
“Shut up.” She spits, hands fisting at her sides. A mouth wrenched open with terror. Hands reaching out hopelessly to be saved. Stone and crystal and the greatest mistake she’s ever made devouring her home and her heart and her life. All penned and sealed by her hand.
“Oooh.” The chorus rises around her, the collective reaction of the gathered crowd. She’s heard it a few times before. It’s encouragement. A call. A children’s drum of war.
She tries to flee, before she does something she’ll seriously regret, but Alinie’s hand closes around her wrist as she reaches for her bag.
“Running back to Mommy?” She coos. Her face glows with smugness, eyes shining with victory.
Red hazes her vision.
She did say she wanted a fight.
…
“…So then you hit her?” A terrible, awful realisation is bubbling away in Qifrey’s chest. A domino of misunderstandings and that child’s arrogance leading to this room.
Coco nodded, and he’s surprised when she looks up at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears and yet fiercely determined.
“I know I did an awful thing, Master. I accept whatever punishment you give me. I shouldn’t have taken the bait and instead went to find you. I shouldn’t have actually fought her.” She knuckles at her eyes, wincing at the scrape of the bandage. “I know better.”
“Ah.” Oh, the irony, he thinks somewhat deliriously. “Um…about that.”
Coco looks up at him, frowning. “What? What’s wrong?”
“I fear there may have been a…cultural misunderstanding.” Coco’s eyes widen. “You see, magic made specifically for combat is well, effectively banned. Therefore, when a witch challenges another to a duel…it um…it means demonstrating who can draw the uh… most skilful and elaborate spell.”
“Oh no.” Coco whispers, voice choking with horror.
Qifrey hides a wince. “Regardless, it’s still wildly inappropriate to challenge another like that-”
“Oh no.” She’s not really hearing him now. Her hands have curled into tight fists, and her little body trembles with barely supressed panic. The sight of squeezes at his heart.
“Coco.” She looks at him slowly, as if in a daze. Her eyes are misted over with fear and humiliation. “You had no way of knowing.” He tries to soothe. “If anything, the fault is mine for not telling you.”
“No.” She says with a surprising amount of vitriol. “No, it isn’t your fault Master. It’s mine.” The shaking gets worse, and the anger burning in her eyes is so out of character he stills in surprise. She looks about ready to throw something, or scream. “It’s mine, for being stupid. For being greedy and grabbing at things I shouldn’t have. And now I’ve caused even more trouble for you, and I hurt Alinie and I’ll always just be an ignorant, filthy Outsider-”
“Enough.” Coco startles upright, those hateful words ceasing but still burning in her eyes. She’s crying now, the tears dripping off her chin. Damnit, he didn’t mean to so harsh.
He suddenly feels twelve again, off-kilter and cold. Memories drag him under. All those misunderstandings. The humiliation and embarrassment at not knowing ‘simple things.’ The constant reminders that he was Other. Some patched-together empty mess. An excuse of a living being. He looks at the way Coco’s anger, for herself, scorches her. It feels like he’s staring at a reflection in hated water. Feels like the tears from an old, old memory are burning down his face as he cried under his bedcovers at night. Feels like he is reliving that same epiphany he had at fourteen years old, when he realised that, no matter how hard he tried, he’d never escape a past he couldn’t even remember.
He wants to kick himself for not realising, because for all of Coco’s love and wonder for their world, it was so easy to forget sometimes she’d suffered the worst of it too.
She stares at him, silent and tearstained. He tries to remember how Master Beldaruit had done this, all those years ago. Tries to not fuck it up more than he already has.
“I won’t hear someone talk about my apprentice like that.” Coco’s eyes widen, and he gently lays a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly when she doesn’t pull away. “You are not stupid. And not knowing something is no crime. Also,” he sees her going to speak, and cuts her off, “challenging someone to a fight, any kind of fight, is hostile and aggressive. Especially the way she did. You were antagonised and harassed. You already know you should’ve come find me. But we don’t always react to things the way we want to, particularly when we are angry or upset.”
“Also,” he says, in the quiet of her falling tears, “I never want to hear you say those ugly things about yourself again, okay? You are none of those things. They are awful words made only to make you feel the same. They are not true.” He lifts a hand up to rub at her shoulder gently. “You are my apprentice. Nothing will ever change that.”
Even with her facing away, he can see the moment the composure she’s been holding onto so valiantly breaks. She sobs, her body heaving with the sheer force of them. The sound of them, the sight, it shreds his heart to pieces. He shifts his arm to drape it fully around her shoulders, knows he’s done the right thing when she all but throws herself into his side. He squeezes gently again, trying to almost physically press comfort into her. Wishes, not for the first time, that he could go back in time and reshape the past.
He always hated the Great Hall. It seems like now he has another reason to.