Chapter Text
It’s a known fact that when fairies speak, the lilting songs of their voices are like bells; a soft chime in the air that's indiscernible when you're far enough away, and all of the ringing verbiage sounds muffled.
Everyone's bell chime voice resonate in different ways. There's the loud and exciting trill of Phichit's voice or the soft and shy croon of Guang-hong's or the loud, loud, booming intonation of The Elder's voices. Yuuri can't exactly hear what his bell-like chime is like from afar, but he hopes it's at least half as interesting as everyone else's.
Especially Victor's song, a voice Yuuri has heard countless times and swoons over. He could dance to the melody of it. It's beautiful.
But right here, right now, as Victor explains, everything sounds wrong. Everything looks wrong. And it breaks Yuuri's heart.
Victor looks positively languished as he opens his mouth, and his music note words tumble down like broken strings.
He can't keep his eyes away as Victor starts talking. The winter fairy explains that he wasn't thinking in this shy little cadence that doesn't suit him at all. He says that something caught his eye, with the downward sweep of timid eyes and nails tugging at the red-violet fabric of his clothing. He mentions that he was lucky—if Yuri hadn't been there, who knows what would've happened.
(From the corner of his eye, Yuuri notices the little sun fae fidgeting in place. He still has that troubled look on his face, and his tiny frame trembles like he's actively fighting his body to keep his heated emotions bottled. After the experience he's just had, Yuuri isn't very surprised.)
"Victor," one of the Elders say. Yuuri flinches and tears his eyes away from the line of Victor's hard expression.
The look on the Elder's face is nothing short of terrifying. He stares sharp icicles at the fallen winter fairy. A chill as cold as winter’s claws runs down the line of Yuuri’s spine.
"Of course you were not thinking of the possible repercussions of your senseless actions. You never learn. It's a miracle you were able to avoid any complication until now—"
"Yakov," a lighter voice speaks, still loud, still powerful, demanding attention with the force of it.
But the Elder fairy known as Yakov ignores it and continues his tirade.
"Insolent!"
The rise of his voice is the literal rise of a tsunami.
"Arrogant!"
It's monstrous, and palpable, and makes Yuuri shake with trepidation as the words spill and spill and crash against his sensitive ears.
"—too careless and frivolous for your own good! Did you not once stop to think of the whole of faekind before acting out the way you did?!"
And then the heavy echo of, "Yakov, enough," cuts straight through the high tide words, effectively splitting them in half. They splash to the ground.
The second Elder to speak chastises in a much calmer tone, "Talking off his ears in such a way will not help the situation. What’s done is done. Instead, we must figure out what to do now."
Yakov acquiesces, though not before turning his stone cold eyes on the winter fairy one last time.
Now that the atmosphere has calmed—though that doesn’t mean much; Yuuri could taste the sour tension hanging in the air if he stuck out his tongue—the second Elder fairy steps forward to speak. She’s elegant in her movements, golden waterfall cloak swishing around her frame before she stops and reaches down to gently clutch Victor’s jaw in her nimble fingers.
“While what he’s done is undoubtedly egregious, there is no use in punishing the poor thing. He’s suffered enough.”
She’s blocking Victor’s face, so Yuuri can only imagine what anxious terror lies in his blue eyes. Lilia the Elder fairy doesn’t yell her disappointment like Yakov, but she’s equally scary to deal with.
Lilia stands up straight again and glides across the room, her golden veil coat glistening in the sunlight. She waves her hand and conjures a stool made of winding twigs to sit upon, and addresses the crowd with her piercing green gaze.
“We know not what the outcome of these actions will hold in the future. For now, we can only speculate. Though,” her eyes sweep left and right, where the other elder fairies stand. “I do have my suspicions.”
"Like what?" inquires the fairy of the stars with her tinny little voice.
"That will not be disclosed at this time so as not to cause needless panic."
"Goddess knows this has caused enough panic as is," Yakov mumbles under his breath.
"Then," another pipes up, the summer fairy. She has an expression Yuuri isn't used to seeing on her face—she looks grim, and summer is never meant to look grim. "What can we know for sure now?"
At this, the Elder fairy Natalie answers, "What we do know is that winter cannot come if a solution is not found by then." Her voice is the softest amongst the Elder fairies, but that does nothing to lessen the perceptible blow of them.
Yuuri, along with the other fairies, gasp in shock.
"Surely another answer can be found!"
"We can't cancel an entire season! That's unheard of!"
"Can't we have another fairy take Victor's place?"
Lilia shushes the crowd of fervently chattering fairies, and waits until everyone has quieted down before she continues. "The Elders and I do hope to solve this dilemma before winter begins, of course."
"But in case we do not, the Tri-Annual Fairy Games, held during winter, will have to be postponed as well," the Elder fairy Celestino says. He seems glum as he says this, and Yuuri can understand why. Celestino has been in charge of organizing the Games for centuries.
There's more chatter, a sad song filling the room with melancholic chills. Yuuri doesn't hear most of it. He keeps his worried eyes on Victor.
Lilia clears her throat to quiet the room once more. For the first time since this meeting began, her ages shows in the drooping lines of her cheeks and the helplessness in her eyes. "This is....unprecedented. But something from which we can move past. I implore you all to be a source of calm in the face of these undoubtedly trying times ahead."
As he watches the other four Elder fairies place pacifying hands against Lilia's shoulder, Yuuri wonders how he's meant to be calm when the most powerful fairies of the Hollows are hardly keeping their controlled, unbreakable facade. But there's a calm in that, Yuuri supposes, in the fact that they aren't ethereal beings despite their ages. They're just as emphatic as everyone else.
And how does Victor feel? Yuuri chances the nineteenth glance of the hour over at the crestfallen fairy. He hasn't raised his head since Lilia addressed him, and his river stream silver hair blocks his face from view, so Yuuri can only guess at type of expression he's making. Whatever it it, it definitely isn't pleasant. The moon fairy's heart aches.
An hour passes before the meeting convenes, but Yuuri stays behind an extra minute longer to decide what he should tell Phichit. He knows the nosy little garden fairy will want a full, detailed exposé of what was discussed. The Elder fairies mention they’ll make an announcement the next day because the current day is drawing to close already, so Yuuri isn’t obligated to tell anyone anything. But he knows Phichit will physically crack from the long wait.
The Elders don’t leave until Victor is spoken to one last time, then all five disappear in a fantastical flurry of magic and wind that whips Yuuri’s hair around his ears. The sunlight isn’t as strong in the cavern, so sunset must be fast approaching now. Yuuri sighs at that. He’d hardly gotten enough sleep.
So with his sleep-addled mind and molasses-like limbs, Yuuri stands and stretches out his arms, then his wings. He notices that a snow fairy has entered the room; he has blond hair and a bittersweet smile and a solid crutch that Victor uses to stand. Yuuri contemplates rushing over to say something, offer words of comfort, anything, but he’s barely spoken to Victor before this incident and can’t fathom that simple “it’ll be okay”s or “stay strong”s would help in any way. Those kinds of words always seemed empty, even to him.
He watches as the snow fairy sprinkles magic dust on Victor’s head, gold on silver. Then he wraps his arms around the winter fairy’s waist and helps him float in the air. The display is kind of sad, really, because the reminder that he can’t fly on his own anymore is neon starlight written into the space where Victor’s gorgeous wings used to be.
Yuuri’s shoulders slump as his last possible chance to speak to Victor slips away, and the two fairies fly towards the horizon. He takes one step, then two in that same direction, but he bumps into something with the heat of the sun.
Glances down and notices that the sun fae Yuri is still here—goddess, are sun fairies suppose to be that hot to the touch? The young fairy feels like a furnace. He usually has a temper like one, too. But he’s just sitting here, silent, lost in his clouded thoughts. Yuuri guesses that he must be shaken by the whole experience. It’s understandable; he would be too.
He wonders what he should say, if it’s worth saying anything. Despite having a few things in common, they don’t hold regular conversations. (Yuuri unconvincingly tells himself that that’s to do with conflicting schedules and nothing to do with his inability to speak to others on his own.)
Yuuri decides to make at least some attempt, because the fact that the sun fae hasn’t even moved after being jostled is a little worrying.
“Ah,” he eloquently starts. Amazing.
That’s seemingly enough though. Yuri blinks and raises his head, his countenance the softest Yuuri’s probably ever seen it since he was born. He’s unguarded, and hazy, just like a newborn—
“What do you want?” comes the calloused reply. That image was short lived.
“Are you okay?” Yuuri tries, in the most sun-warm voice he can muster.
Yuri isn’t as warm—the irony isn’t lost on Yuuri—when he frowns and petulantly turns his head the other way. He really should take that as a sign to leave Yuri be, that maybe he isn’t up for talking to anyone, but he looks incredibly sad. Yuuri sees this, underneath his mop of blond hair, the way his eyebrows furrow and form distressed cracks against his smooth face. He’s clearly tired too, if the dark circles forming under his eyes are anything to go by.
Yuuri tries again. Just one more time, he tells himself, then he’ll go. “You look tired. Maybe you should sleep?” The room is empty; his voice echoes off the wooden walls.
The sun fae scoffs when he glances up at Yuuri. “Speak for yourself.”
He has no idea what to respond with besides awkwardly laughing and mumbling, “I guess you’re right,” while he looks down sheepishly. The silence and tension is thick.
“Don’t you have something you should be doing?” Yuri says, standing up and unfurling his brighter-than-sunlight wings.
Yuuri is confused for a moment as he tilts his head, but the light of sunset hits his eyes in that exact second too. The realization hits him. “Right. I should—”
Before he has a chance to say anything, the sun fae is already speeding off towards the sunset, and the wind of his ghost is still sifting through Yuuri's hair and clothes by the time Yuri is far out of sight.
Yuuri blows the unruly strands of his bangs out of eyes. With frustration, he thinks that was a mistake, I should've left immediately, why did I bother, why did I— His frantic thoughts carry him out of the Elder Tree, and he shakes them away before they can go any further.
He sets off for the Lunar Plane, but his eyes catch a glimpse of three very frenzied figures loitering at the edge of The Garden. Yuuri assumes they're just a bunch of fairies he's not familiar with until one of them calls out his name in a shriek so loud it could be heard from Summer Grove. He can hardly see them from his distance, but he knows exactly who that is.
The dread seeps into his stomach as a young flower fae zips right towards him and nearly crashes them both out of the air. The excitable little fae clings to him in an iron-grip hug, and Yuuri can’t breathe.
“M... Minami, please… ”
“Calm down, Minami. You’re killing him,” Phichit calls from a few meters away.
Minami allows himself one last squeeze before pulling away. Yuuri wheezes. “I’m sorry! We were so worried! We have no idea what’s going on and everyone keeps talking about how the world is ending and life as we know it is ruined and there’ll only be two season and we’ll end up b—”
Yuuri presses a pitiful finger to Minami’s mouth to quiet him. It was obvious from the tears at the corner of his eyes alone that he was worried, but his fast-paced words were running circles around the moon fairy’s head. “That’s...that’s not entirely true. Everything’ll be okay. Maybe.”
“Maybe?!” Minami yells.
“Entirely?” Phichit and Guang-hong chime in.
In the distance, Yuuri hears Lilia’s message to be a source of calm echoing to his left, and the words no, not like that by some nameless voice to his right.
Yuuri raises his hands up in what he hopes is a placating gesture. “It’s not as bad as everyone is saying it is!” Only half true.
“So no one lost their wings after all?” Minami asks. The flower fae looks so hopeful at that; the tears are already drying from his eyes. It makes Yuuri feel a little helpless.
“...No,” he mumbles reluctantly. “But! Everything will be okay!” He doesn’t actually believe that himself, but that’s the thing people say to others in times of distress, right? “The Elders plan to tell everyone what’s going on after sunrise tomorrow.”
“But you know now, right?” Phichit asks. He’s holding a very wide-eyed Guang-hong by the hand.
He can feel himself sweating under the pressure of everyone’s eyes. The sun is dipping low in the sky. “The Elders can probably explain the situation better than I can—”
“Yuuri! Please don’t make us wait that long,” Phichit pleads. “We swear we won’t say anything to anyone before the Elders do, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not the issue.” Besides, even if they say nothing, the small nocturnal animals that are rising from their slumber surely will. Fairies always say the plants have ears, too. “It’s…”
It’s almost dark now; nocturnal fairies are beginning to wake up and streak across the gentle gradient of the sky. Phichit and the other two fae are hanging on Yuuri’s every word, but it has to wait. “I’ll tell you all after I finish my job. Meet me by my home in an hour.”
With reluctance, they nod their heads. Phichit gingerly takes Guang-hong and Minami’s wrists to lead the way, and Yuuri releases the breath trapped behind his teeth. That doesn’t do much to ease the tension in his shoulders, however. He somberly flies to the Lunar Plane, knowing at the back of his mind that his dance won’t be as graceful as he’d like. He only hopes that no one notices should the moon shutter in the sky tonight.
✂
When he arrives at his dandelion home, Phichit is on the floor reading one of his borrowed books out loud, Guang-hong is next to him listening intently, and Minami is on his bed picking off the moon dust one by one. His little feet land with a soft thump and everyone snaps their heads up in full attention.
“Oh, you’re back!” Phichit puts the book down and drags Yuuri down to sit on the floor. Minami doesn’t join them until he’s collected a suitable amount of moon dust from the bed to play with while he listens. “Okay, so tell us what happened exactly. ”
Yuuri blows air from his lungs, and his bangs fly up with it, in some sort of mental preparation. “The Elders were waiting on me before they could begin the meeting—”
Phichit cuts him off, rolling his hands rapidly in the air. “Don’t narrate the whole thing! Tell us the important stuff!”
A very large inhale, another exhale. He looks the others in their wide worried eyes, then down to the fuzzy soft ground as he whispers. “Victor lost his wings.”
Spark silence. Until all three break it in hysteric unison.
“What ?!”
“Did you say Victor? As in the winter fairy Victor? As in the fairy who brings one of the four seasons to this realm and helps uphold the balance of goddess nature—that Victor?”
Yuuri solemnly nods his head in confirmation.
Minami has stopped raining moon dust over Guang-hong’s hair to grab Yuuri’s hands tightly. “Does that mean we won’t have any more winter? What will we do then? Who’s gonna bring snow to the realm? What if all the winter fairies die?”
“Minam—ah, please ease your hold a bit. I,” he bites his lips and locks eyes with a very worried Guang-hong and an even more worried Phichit. “I don’t really know what the Elders plan to do.”
“Did they mention having a replacement? Like, y’know, the sun fairy…”
“He isn’t dead, his wings are just.” Yuuri visibly shudders when the image comes to mind again, of charred edges and a crestfallen expression. He continues, “There’s still hope since most fairies usually don’t make it out of the Forbidden Forest alive.”
“What...what’s in the Forbidden Forest?” Guang-hong timidly asks.
Phichit conjures a firethorn bud in his palm, one that ominously illuminates his face in the already dim light of the room. It’s obvious that he’s doing this for dramatic effect.
Yuuri raises his eyebrows. “Phichit....”
Miami scoops closer to a slightly frazzled Guang-hong.
“No one’s ever come out of the Forbidden Forest alive to tell the tale. Some say it’s filled with creatures who eat fairies as delicacies. Others say there’s evil spirits residing there, waiting in the shadows to steal the souls of fresh young fae. Just. Like. You two.”
Before Phichit can go on, Yuuri reaches over and blows the frail firethorn out of existence. It fades in a smoky-trail of magic. “Stop that, you’ll scare them.”
“Is it true?” Guang-hong asks, gripping the other fae’s wrist. Minami looks just as nervous.
“No,” Yuuri says, at the same time Phichit answers with an enthusiastic, “Yes!”
Done with Phichit's ridiculous antics, Yuuri takes the tiny pile moon dust in front of Minami and flicks it all in Phichit's direction, and the garden fairy dramatically gasps and falls over in melodramatic theatrics.
"That's just something older fairies tell younger fairies to keep them out of the Forbidden Forest. None of it is particularly true," he reassures them. Their tense, little shoulders drop as the worry slips away from them. "But," he holds up a finger, and their shoulders hug their necks again, "that doesn't mean it's a good idea to go in there."
"Right, cause there's monsters who'll take our wings like they took Victor’s and eat them," says Minami.
"No," Yuuri immediately shuts down that train of thought. In the background, Phichit grumbles that it'll take ages to wipe away all the moon dust residue. "Fairies don't get eaten."
"How do you know that, Yuuri?"
Phichit chooses that moment to sit up again, leaning an arm over the moon fairy's shoulder. "Yuuri's read every book in the Frozen Library at least twice. Isn't that amazing? He's got enough knowledge to rival the Elders, probably."
Yuuri's face flushes at his best friend's hyperbolic words. "Stop it. I've barely read a quarter of the Library."
"That's still more than any fairy who isn't an Elder could say!"
"Then," Minami cuts through their banter, a curious lilt to his voice. "Is there a book that says what's in the Forbidden Forest?"
Yuuri nods his head. "There's several, probably more than I've read, but the one I know that has the most detailed description is one written by Lilia herself."
Minami drags himself closer. "What does it say! What does it say!" Then there's a dull thud.
All three snap their heads behind Minami's where a quiet, sleeping Guang-hong lies. The fae must've been resting against Minami's side without any of them noticing until now.
"Aw, he couldn't stay awake. It is pretty late, huh? I've got him." Phichit stands and hoists Guang-hong up with ease, like the boy is made of nothing but downy feathers.
Yuuri watches Phichit lay Guang-hong on his bed, and he inwardly cringes. As unnecessarily dramatic as Phichit was being, the garden fairy wasn't exaggerating about how hard it is to get rid of moon dust once it sticks to skin the way sap stick steadfast to tree bark or pollen to flowers. Poor Guang-hong would be trying for weeks to wash it all away. "Shouldn't all of you be asleep right now? None of you were made to be up at night like this."
"Nooooo," Minami drawls insistently. "I'm not tired! Tell me what's in the Forest! Please!"
"I don't actually remember all of the details and I'd rather not give you false information," he answers truthfully.
Minami deflates at that.
Phichit claps his hands together. "We can go to the library in the morning before Yuuri has to sleep. It'll be like an informational field trip! Plus, the two of you haven't been to the library yet, yeah?"
Minami perks up again. He reminds Yuuri of a stormy fairy, constantly changing.
Kneeling down beside him, Phichit nudges Yuuri's side. "Yeah?" he says again.
Yuuri sees no reason to argue; he hadn't planned to do anything else tomorrow. And he's extremely tired too. "Okay. Please get some rest."
Before he sets off, Guang-hong being carried in Phichit's arms again, Minami turns to Yuuri to ask, "Wait, why is called the Frozen Library?"
He locks eyes with Phichit, as if communicating, "You haven't told him?" and Phichit answers, "it never came up till now."
"You'll see later."
✂
“Oh,” is the first thing Minami says as they stand there, in the juxtaposing walls between spring and winter. Of course, there isn’t really a wall there; it isn’t a solid thing by any means. But the spaces between seasons in the Hollows is this weird visible dividing line where one fades into the other, and you aren’t quite sure you’ve reached the other side until the change in temperature hits you like a snowball to the face. It’s a weird thing to experience the first time around.
All four fairies stand at the very edge of Spring Clearing with the early rays of sunrise casted above their heads.
“Remember, the two of you and Phichit won’t be able to fly here because your wings weren’t made for extreme cold temperatures, so we’re walking okay?” Yuuri addresses the two younger fae.
“What happens if we do try to fly here?” Minami asks.
“Nothing at first, but when you really start to feel the cold, you’ll shiver, and your wings’ll start shivering. And if you go any farther, they’ll fracture like a spider’s web,” Phichit explains.
“Oh…” Guang-hong visibly shutters.
“What about Yuuri? Why can he fly in Winter Cove?”
“I’m not a seasonal fairy, so climates don’t affect me the same way,” Yuuri explains.
“See, kids,” Phichit adds, hands on Yuuri’s shoulders. “Yuuri is a very special fairy who’s too good for winter.”
"No," Yuuri denies, swapping in his best friend's general direction.
Phichit floats up and out of reach with laughter bubbling over his lips.
"I wanna be a moon fairy too!" Minami exclaims. "It sounds amazing!"
Yuuri thinks, why ? It doesn't have the same sort of perks other fairy types may have. He's not awake when all of his close friends are; the job is taxing and leaves him exhausted to the bone with sore feet to match; and it's kind of lonely, unlikely other jobs that other fairy types have, where it's impossible to work alone. One part of Yuuri would trade with Minami if it were possible, but he knows the flower fairy wasn’t meant for this type. The other part wants to be selfish and keep this to himself.
Guang-hong nods in agreement. "It sounds nice but...I don't think I'd pass up getting to take care of baby animals."
Phichit pats his hand gingerly against Guang-hon's shoulder. "Exactly! Minami, sweetheart, you're perfect the way you are. No one else can do your job as flower fairy better than you can."
With that, they start walking. Yuuri and Phichit have been here before, yet they still hold their breaths as they step over the line where green grass ends and white snow begins. Minami and Guang-hong’s teeth instantly begin clattering, so Yuuri and Phichit huddle to their sides respectively to keep the younger fae warm.
They arrive at a building carved from solid ice. It's an amazing sight: clear corinthian pillars and icy sloped roof-tops and intricate ice buttresses to support a height that almost rivals the Elder tree's. It almost hurts Yuuri to tip his head back far enough to see the point at the very top of the structure.
"Whoa..." a whisper sounds from his right.
"Yeah," he says. Yuuri has been here several times and it always feels as exciting as the first visit.
"It's made of ice though...how is it standing if it's made of ice? Is it cold inside too? I don't think I want to be here anymore."
Yuuri smiles at Minami in amusement. "The Elders of old built this. It really is worth coming inside at least once, trust me."
"Let's go!" Phichit hurriedly herds them through the giant snowy doors with ice-cold fingers and fervent impatience.
A gasp, so loud it echos off the enormous walls of the interior. "Oh! It's warm in here!"
"Thank goddess, I was about to die." Phichit plops down right there on the floor in relief, taking Guang-hong with him. "You go on, Yuuri," he says breathlessly, dramatically. "I'll be here for a while."
"Right," he says to Phichit, then to Minami still clinging to his side, "Let's go find that book."
Minami is marveling at the expansiveness of the library and the rows and rows of bookshelf upon bookshelf that reach from floor to ceiling, with giant stain glass windows beside them. "This place is huge. How are we gonna find anything on our own?"
"Oh, we're not. Only a fairy who knows this place like of back of their hand can find anything here."
"Who—?"
"Yuuri!"
A small helper fairy flits over to them excitedly, a stack of books expertly balancing in one hand. "What are you doing here so early in the day?"
"Hi, Yuuko," Yuuri greets his other best friend warmly. He doesn't see her very often, not as often as Phichit anyway, because the fly over to the library from Spring Haven isn't an easy distance to traverse.
"Minami here wanted to learn about the Forbidden Forest," Yuuko regards Minami with a soft smile and a wave her hand, and Minami happily mouths ‘hi’ back, "So we're looking for that book..."
Yuuko interjects with a gasp and a tap against her stack of books. "Myth of the Fae! Wait here, I'll be back with it as soon as I put these away."
Minami watches her fly away in awe. "How did she do that?"
Yuuri shrugs. "She's been here for several decades, and she's kind of amazing.”
"Ooo."
The two sit on pillowed icy stools at snow-mound tables as they wait for Yuuko to return, and Phichit and Guang-hong finally join them.
"Here it is!" Yuuko announces, placing the book down with a loud thump, and dusts of snow float up with the movement. "Myth of the Fae. Hello, Phichit!"
"Hi, Yuuko!"
She crouches down at Guang-hong's side next, lowering her voice an octave, like she senses how shy the small fae is. She was always very good at reading other fairies. "And hello, little one. Are you the newest fae? Or—oh! Wait! You were born during the last blue moon, yeah?"
"Yeah I'm...I'm only three years old."
"I'm the newest one!" Minami says excitedly. "Everything still so new and weird and whoa! I hope I can get used to things soon."
"You're a flower fairy, aren't you? With Phichit as your mentor, you'll do great!"
Minami beams at that, bright and sunny.
"I'll leave you guys be, then," Yuuko says before flying away.
"She's very nice," Guang-hong muses.
"Okay," Yuuri raises a finger to get their attentions, "So this book, Myth of the Fae: a complete collection—written by Lilia the Elder Fairy herself—should give us the best details of what exactly is in the Forbidden Forest without having to step foot in it ourselves."
Everyone leans forward as Yuuri scans the table of content and muses over the titles aloud. "Elders of old...Collapse....how the types came to...mmm. Oh! Here it is. The giants."
"The giants?!" Guang-hong and Minami half-yell in the stark quiet of the library.
Yuuri puts a finger to his lips to remind them that they shouldn’t make a sound, if not for the obvious lack of fairies, then for the sound sensitive ice surrounding them. “The giants,” he repeats empathically.
“‘Stop being melodramatic,’ he says. ‘You’ll scare them,’ he says. Look at you now!” Phichit points out, gesturing with his hand.
“But this stuff is real!”
“Myth of the fae?”
“It’s at least likely to be real.”
Phichit raises an eyebrow incredulously. Then again, he also looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh right now, so Yuuri doesn’t take his disbelief to heart.
“I really shouldn’t be up this late, so I’ll only read parts of this, okay?” Yuuri prefaces. He clears his throat, picks up the book, sits up straight, and begins.
“Terri Colossi, also known at the Land of Giants, is the place in which those Giants thrive. They reach the impressive height of trees; 7 meters tall, and taller still. The Giants, clad in cloths and wielding heavy weaponry half their size, roam the lengths of the Marsh Forest with footsteps that tremble the fearful Earth. They are fae without wings, without magic, without love. Always, always their eyes wander. For what? It is too dangerous to approach these creatures alone, for, above anything else, they are Curious. They take, they strip away, they remove for themselves, with no regards to the afflictions pressed upon Goddess Nature.”
Yuuri sets the book down when he finishes the paragraph, then peers at Guang-hong and Minami. And, well, their faces very clearly scream no, no, no, no, no.
“So that’s why you should never go into the Forbidden Forest. It’s called forbidden now for a reason,” he finishes matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t just recited the world’s most bone-chilling description.
Phichit whistles to break the silence that’s seeping with apprehension and far-away-fears. “It’s amazing that Victor survived one of those things, if that’s what he was up against.”
Minami purses his lips and hums. “Lilia knows what’s in there, right? She must’ve seen ‘em herself if she wrote this whole thing about them, right?” Minami says, and he looks pensive, staring at the pages where the words rest, inky and full of stories.
Yuuri tilts his head to one side. “What are you thinking?”
“Victor got out, so he knows what’s in there, which means other fairies who went in and got out knows what’s there too! And maybe….maybe!”
He can literally see the shiny new cogs turning in Minami’s mind.
“Maybe someone’s lost their wings before!”
“Well, yes, there’s stories about that, but....” The young fae can’t be implying what Yuuri thinks he’s implying...
“Maybe someone’s come up with a way to grow lost wings back!” Minami says, punctuating the statement with a fist to his open palm like he’d figured out the solution to all of their problems. Yuuri wonders what it’s like, to have that optimism and hope. He wishes Minami could rub some on him too like the moon dust that’s still clinging to his wild blond and red hair.
“Torn wings from small accidents can be healed but...I don’t think…”
Phichit hums from across the table, hand against his chin. “Lost wings can’t regenerate like that...can they? Has that ever been done?”
“Well!” comes a familiar voice, and Yuuko flies towards them again with a book in hand. “Lucky for you guys, I happened to have this book when I heard your oddly specific conversation,” she looks too casual, and short of breath, like she’d raced to find the right one. “Is this about yesterday’s incident? With Victor?”
“How did you know it was about Victor?” Phichit asks, shocked.
“So it is about Victor! Oh, goddess, no that’s terrible.”
“Yuuko...”
She flaps her hand dismissively and continues her worried rambling. “I thought it was Yuri—not you of course, the other Yuri—because everyone kept saying he was in there somehow, but Victor? Isn’t he too old to be wandering into the Forbidden Forest alone? Like, you’d think he know the dangers!”
“Yeah, it’s…” It’s very weird, Yuuri has to admit. But between the news and the lack of sleep he’s been getting, he hasn’t had enough time to stop and think. And frankly, he’s not sure he wants to.
“So...what’s the book you have?” Guang-hong asks, pulling their attentions back. He peers wide, brown, curious eyes at the old, leave-bound cover. It’s moth bitten and mottled, covered in tiny holes, and the black ink is indecipherable.
Still, Yuuko confidently answers, “This is an original book written by one of the Elders of old, recounting the story of the Elder Fairy Lada. A biography, in a way. Only I’ve heard Lada herself choose the words for it.”
“And she tells a story about someone who regenerated their wings?”
Yuuko shakes her head. “Close, but no. She lost and regained her wings.”
“Really?” Yuuri stands next to her now to look down at the old text, its brittle pages and cracked words. “Does she explain how?”
“Unfortunately, no...it’s all very vague and the Elders of old speak in this super convoluted way that’s kind of hard to understand.”
“Still,” Phichit jumps in, squeezing in between Yuuko and Yuuri to look at the book, too, “That doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
Yuuri can feel Phichit’s pink wings fluttering excitedly next to him, and even though his wide-eyed gaze remains unreadable, Yuuri can clearly tell what he’s thinking. As if Phichit can feel Yuuri’s scrutiny—maybe he is staring that hard—the garden fairy turns to him, locking their eyes.
“Yuuri.”
It’s a single word, but it may as well be an entire spiel complete with bullet point explanations. “I...I don’t.”
“Okay, but what if.”
“But what if it doesn’t?”
“You don’t know that unless we try.”
“But…” Yuuri sighs. He doesn’t have a good counter.
“Are you two going to explain what you’re on about?”
They turn their gazes to Yuuko and the other two, now crowded at one corner of the table, with matching confusion expressions. Oh, right.
“Phichit thinks we can get Victor’s wings back.”
The aforementioned fairy stands up on the table like a leader addressing his subjects. “Yuuri sounds so defeated already! You don’t even want to try! Think of how amazing it’ll be if we pull this off. We won’t even have to think of the consequences! Everyone—especially Victor—would be happy again. Don’t you want that?”
“Of course I’d want everyone to be happy. But we don’t even know the consequences yet and…” He imagines dull, blue eyes turned on him, locked away in a sunken socket prison, and he bites his lips in apprehension and stares at the floor. “What if we try, and give everyone false hope, only to fail?”
“Yuuri,” Phichit crouches, takes Yuuri’s hands in his and forces him to look up again, “I get this is kinda far-fetched and maybe it won’t work out, but there’s no harm in at least trying, right?”
On the contrary, Yuuri thinks, there could be tons of harm in trying. He can’t stand to conjure the mental image of a thousand sad faces of personified shattered hope. But a tiny, optimistic voice imagines enthusiastic ones instead, several of them, blurred with the motions of joy until they form one solid image of silver hair framing a pale face and a stunning smile and...
“Great!” Phichit taps his back before standing up. (Did he subconsciously agree?) “Who else is with us!”
Unsurprisingly, Minami cheers excitedly, and Guang-hong and Yuuko clap together.
“Wait! We can’t just decide to take this on! We’d need to speak with the Elders first—oh, goddess, they’re going to think I’m crazy and there’s no way they’ll take me seriously me and let us go along with th—”
“Yuuri, slow down, you’re turning red!” Yuuko worriedly interjects.
Embarrassed, Yuuri feels his cheeks burn as he flushes, which is the exact opposite of what he wants right now.
“We really don’t have to do this if you don’t think it’s a good idea, y’know,” Phichit reassures in a hushed tone that seems too quiet despite the setting. Even with the hundreds upon thousands of books here, the library feels incredibly empty right now.
Empty like those eyes.
“I…” Yuuri’s gaze wanders to Minami and Guang-hong’s doleful faces, then he blinks and sees their faces copied hundred times over, all aimed at him, and when he opens them again he looks down at the old book written by Lada the Elder Fairy that might hold answers, and he thinks. Thinks that maybe if he lets his hopeful thoughts break through steel walls made of pessimism just this once, things can work out.
He only verbalizes all of this with a very curt and quiet, “Maybe,” but Phichit nods in understanding.
“It’s getting late for you, so we should head back. C’mon, let’s go.”
“Can I borrow this?” Yuuri asks, pointing at the old book Yuuko brought them, and she hums as she hands it over. It feels heavy with pages and even heavier with words in his small hands.
“Um,” Guang-hong timidly says, bashful eyes darting from the book of myths to Yuuko’s face. “Can I, um, take this with me too?”
“Of course,” she places the text in his arms, and Guang-hong smiles to himself in a way that makes Yuuri melt inside. It’s like looking into a mirror and remembering nights spent soaking ink filled with knowledge into his very fingertips while resting atop flower beds.
As they set off into the freezing weather again, Guang-hong and Minami momentarily forget about how cold it is in favor of reading through Myth of the Fae with their clumsy fingers clutching each side and their free hands eagerly pointing out new things.
✂
When they make it back to Spring Haven, they spot a crowd of several seasonal fairies gathered around the Elder Tree. And at the center of it stands Lilia and Celestino.
“Uh oh,” Phichit says, “Looks like we’re just in time for the official announcement.”
Guang-hong and Minami decide to move closer, and Yuuri and Phichit choose to sit on top of nearby violet anemones.
Yuuri only half listens because he’s heard all of this already. Instead, he picks and tears at the soft petals of the flower they’re on, sleepy eyes going unfocused as he stares at nothing.
He notices how the whole atmosphere is suddenly shifted, and tense, and dreary; notices the gasps and worried cacophonic whispers reaching his unhearing ears. He is apprehensive when the real realization that winter may never come again dawns on him at the same time it dawns on everyone else, a collective blanket of gloom with no escape holes in sight.
He thinks about the fact that Victor hasn’t been seen in nearly twenty-four hours, which is an odd and sudden change because the winter fairy likes to wander the Hollows at odd hours all the time. Yuuri wonders if that’s going to be the new norm now. If everyone will have to get used to the fact that Winter doesn’t exist anymore, in all his pristine snowfall and windchilled touch.
Phichit grabs his arm with a gasp and pulls Yuuri from his thoughts. “Oh, Yuuri, the The Games are being cancelled too?”
He notices, then, that Celestino is addressing the crowd. The Tri-Annual Fairy Games was the last thing on his mind.
“I was unsure about entering this time, but I guess that decision’s been made for me,” Yuuri mutters. Phichit doesn’t answer that, so he’s not sure of the other heard him. He speaks louder this time, “It’s only being postponed, so that’s hopefully something to look forward to.”
“I hope so.”
✂
Yuuri feels like he’d slept for only ten minutes this time, despite it being the most rest he’s gotten in the past several hours. It was uneasy and troubled and filled with nervous dreams he doesn’t remember anymore, and the call and pull of the moon wasn’t nearly enough incentive to drag his sleep-deprived body out of bed. Still, he managed, because he’d risen the moon for centuries now and he doesn’t plan on skipping the task today.
It feels difficult again tonight. There isn’t enough magic in the air, and he’s a lot more drained than usual as he moves his fluid legs across the glassy surface of the Lunar Plane. But Yuuri pushes on because he has to, and it’s expected, and who knows how much sadness he’d add to the full pot of dread if the moon doesn’t rise that night.
The full moon is big, bright, and beaming overhead once Yuuri heads back home. He decides to take a short nap, to try and catch the sleep that’s slipping through his fingers like silt, but he only wastes a few hours tossing and turning and listening to the sounds of nocturnal animals outside.
Sighing, Yuuri gets up again and flies to Winter Cove. No matter how many times he flies through here, he can never stop that initial shiver that racks his body upon entering. He momentarily struggles to stay afloat when his wings stutter with the rest of him, but he holds up okay.
Up ahead is his destination, the Dead Tree Forest within which lies Glacier Lake. It’s always solid, frozen over with a thick layer of ice, and a glacier rests at one corner, giving way to a tall, snowy mountain. Yuuri likes coming here sometimes to practice his ice dancing, partly because it's where the ice dancing competition for the Fairy Games take place, and partly because the lake is gigantic. Gliding across the expansive surface feels like gliding on air. It’s one of the more popular places to practice, and it’s normally filled with fairies during the day. But at night, if he’s lucky, Yuuri can get the entire lake to himself.
That’s what he expects this time, too, because he wants the chance to be alone to clear his head and rid himself of this constant and incessant dread that won’t seem to go away. But as he flies closer, he notices someone at the edge of the lake, sitting on the snow, watching the moon inch across the night sky.
At that point, Yuuri would’ve resolved to make a complete one-eighty turn and find a smaller lake to glide on, but the other fairy looks so deep in thought and unaware of their surroundings that Yuuri doubts they would notice if he were to take the ice for himself for a while.
So he pays the other no mind and touches down on the slippery surface. The cold feels muted against his feet, a result of snow fairy magic. He closes his eyes, visualizes the snowy stands that’ll seat all those fairies, and the musical types who’ll play something soft and mellow that moves through Yuuri’s veins like the water beneath the ice.
Before he knows it, he’s gliding. He doesn’t know when he started. Doesn’t care. The moon is his spotlight and the ice is his stage.
“Ah…”
Yuuri stops, and snaps his eyes open. What was that?
Was that the sigh of another fairy? Or the sigh of the forest? Yuuri can’t tell. His eyes frantically whip around as he spins in circles until they stop dead on the fairy at the edge of the lake. Oh, maybe it was them.
He’s a lot closer now, can make out the lines of waist-length hair and the glitter in their fabric and he immediately notes that something isn’t right. Something’s missing. Yuuri isn’t sure whether he should approach and see if the other is okay, but then their head lifts up before Yuuri can make a decision. He clutches the front of his clothes, right over his chest, as the sight of blue eyes kick starts his heart into overdrive.
There’s no way. There’s no way. What’s he doing here? That can’t be him, Yuuri thinks. There’s plenty of blue-eyed, silver-haired fairies who inhabit the Hollows.
But there’s only one blue-eyed, silver-haired fairy who has no wings.
Because where there should be a golden mosaic of color behind him, there’s only clear, white snow.
Yuuri is openly staring. He wants to turn around and leave, go back home, but Victor is staring at him from halfway across the lake. Leaving now seems rude, and he couldn’t if he tried with Victor’s piercing eyes keeping his feet pinned to the ice.
But then Victor gets up, and Yuuri’s heart stutters in his chest all over again.
He looks down, because looking at Victor looking at him feels awkward. Internally, he contemplates making his escape and pretending he was never here. It isn’t too late, after all. Victor isn’t here yet, maybe he doesn’t realize it’s him, maybe he won’t care; he starts backing away to run—
“I thought it was you, Yuuri. What are you doing here?”
Yuuri gasps like he hadn’t expected Victor to arrive so soon, even though he was only a few meters away.
He rubs his chest to calm both his racing heart and his racing mind. Then he clears his throat and replies, “I was wondering the same about you?” Yuuri internally cringes at how unsure he sounds. He is unsure, but he doesn’t want it to be glaringly obvious.
“I usually come here to practice before sunrise, but I happen to have a lot more free time now,” Victor laughs, but it doesn’t sound genuine. Now that he’s close enough, Yuuri doesn’t stop himself from taking in the features of his face. He can see the dark circles resting under his eyes.
His feet slip and slid a fraction when he shuffles them, and he bites at his lips because he isn’t sure what to say. After a moment, he opts for, “Do you always come here to practice your ice dancing?”
“Yes, and I’ve never seen you here. I see why now,” he says, a soft smile on his lips. “Your ice dancing is lovely when you think nobody's watching.”
Yuuri’s face burns, so hot he thinks he feels the ice melting right under his feet.
“D-di...I...I... ”
Yuuri had forgotten about this. It’s been awhile since he and Victor had spoken alone and he’d forgotten about this. How Victor’s bell-chime voice can use words in a way that sends a shockwave straight through Yuuri’s frail body. And goddess, he wasn’t prepared, because he has no time to hide the blush heating his face.
Victor laughs, actually, genuinely, a hand over his mouth, and Yuuri doesn’t have the decency to be embarrassed because it feels great knowing there’s still a little bit of happiness left.
“I didn’t mean to bother you, I’m sorry,” he says when the laughter subsides. Yuuri watches the sorrow seep back onto his face and he wants to reach his hands up to chase it away again because it has no place there.
“No! No, it’s okay. Um...” Yuuri’s gazes falls over Victor’s shoulder, then back to his face. “Are you okay?”
He tilts his head, silver strands falling with the movement. “Hm? Why wouldn’t I be?”
Yuuri so badly wishes he could read him, because the winter fairy is an enigma. His words sound fine, even, but his face doesn’t match. He wonders how he should broach this topic, if it’s worth doing at all, because the last thing he wants to do right now is make Victor feel worse with a reminder.
The day’s past events repeat in a show slide in his head; he can’t get the thought of soulless eyes out of his mind and that same gaze that’s turned to him, watching with intent right now, and how he wishes the life would come and make home there again.
He remembers the trip to the library, and Phichit’s incredibly lame speech and the book sitting on his bedside table about Lada the Elder that he hasn’t open yet.
For a moment, he thinks about how futile it’ll all be. But he remembers all the sad faces he’d flown by after sunset, and he stares right into Victor’s eyes, sees something like budding determination in the reflection.
He wants to try, at least once, if not for Victor, then for everyone’s sake.
“Victor, have you ever heard of Lada the Elder Fairy?”
The winter fairy’s eyebrows raise, and Yuuri watches as a slew of hard-to-read emotions take over his face all at once. Confusion is the only one he can clearly decipher.
“Of course I have. Why are you…?”
“Have you ever heard of the story of how Lada lost her wings?”
Realization is crystal clear when Victor’s eyes widen, and he suddenly grabs hold of Yuuri’s wrist, an anchor, when he sways forward. His touch is solid ice. “What are you thinking, Yuuri?”
He almost has the audacity to smile, but he doesn’t let it show, biting his lips to keep it in, because that’s exactly what he’d said to Minami only a few hours ago. Oh, how the tables have turned, like Phichit always says.
“Well she has this book, and I have it right now, and Yuuko—the library helper fairy—says there’s a story told about how Lada managed to regenerate her wings again, and I was thinking…” He bites his lips, again (and knows it’ll be an ugly red if he doesn’t stop but he can’t stop ); this sounds ridiculous out loud, telling it to the fairy who’s been affected the most. But Victor looks at him with rapt attention like he’s the Elder herself, standing here, telling him yes, there’s hope.
“I’ve heard of Lada the Elder and her tale about regaining her wings as a young fae. I always thought it was just some silly myth, but Lilia always did say there’s some truth to those myths. I experienced that firsthand.” Victor lets go of him then—Yuuri’s skin feels weirdly colder—and pushes back the hair that fell into his face. His eyes are darting everywhere, all over the place, like his mind is searching for answers. He looks at Yuuri, “Does the book say how she did it?”
“No….it’s really vague, apparently.”
“Do you know how it’s done, then?”
Yuuri’s shoulders slump. “I have no clue.”
“You have no clue?” he echoes.
“But I want to figure it out!”
“How?”
“I-I don’t know. But I’ll figure it out!”
“ Yuur—”
“The realm would fall to ruin without winter and there’s no point in sitting around and doing nothing about it while waiting for the Elders to find a solution that might only be a temporary fix while the atmosphere continues to get worse and worse by the day because everyone’s lost hope of ever finding a so—”
The icy touch is back, on his shoulder this time. Yuuri can feel his face burning again and, oh, he’d gotten carried away.
“That’s not an easy task for one fairy to take. What if it doesn’t work out?” Victor questions, concern written all over his face. Why is he concerned? He has nothing else to lose, right?
“My friends gave me the idea in the first place,” Yuuri says in a breath.
“Phichit?”
Yuuri nods. He hadn’t expected Victor to know any of their names. “And Minami and Guang-hong.”
Victor says nothing, resting a finger against his chin, thoughtful, and Yuuri tugs on the ends of his pointed ear while he waits for him to say something. It’s kind of nerve-wracking, not knowing what’s going through Victor’s mind right now. The only thing that’s forming in his own at that moment is doubt and doubt and doubt.
He looks Yuuri square in the eyes, full of conviction, and the resolve Yuuri saw in his own face a few moments ago.
“Okay,” Victor nods. “It’s definitely worth a try.”
Yuuri would do flips in the air if he could, if he weren’t held in place by Victor’s soft gazes that keeps his knees from working and his breath from pooling white fog between them.
“I’ll need to let the Elder know first,” Yuuri warns. He has to physically stop himself to falling into one of his nervous habits at the mere thought of it.
“Just don’t let Yakov know. He’d never let you do this.”
“...Thanks.”
Victor laughs again, sweet and honest. “I don’t mean to discourage you.” He leans forward, whispers impossibly cold air against Yuuri’s ears. He’s close, so close, Yuuri hopes he doesn’t hear the blood rushing in his veins. “I get the feeling that Lilia just might allow it.”
“R-Really?” Yuuri squeaks.
“Truly.”
“Okay…” he says, quietly. Suddenly, he isn’t sure. Suddenly, when the thought of facing the Elders with this issue is a very clear and very real step, Yuuri isn’t confident that he can do this.
His thoughts must be showing in a bubble above his head, or maybe he’s saying them out loud, because Victor forms this reassuring smile and says, “It’s not as if you have to, Yuuri. This isn’t your problem to deal with. It’s my burden.”
He’s sad, too sad; it’s dipping in his voice and behind his eyes a few centimeters away and it kind of hurts to witness it. His eyebrows are furrowed with concern, making creased between them. Yuuri wants to rub them away, or joke about getting wrinkles, anything to lighten the mood, anything bring that smile back again.
“I want to help,” he decides. “I don’t have to, but I want to.”
Because, if not to clutch onto winter before it slips from this realm’s grasp, then definitely, absolutely to reign Victor’s happiness back in and hang it there, on his delicate face, where the light of it can rival the sparkle of untouched snow.
Yuuri squares his narrow shoulders keeps Victor’s gaze, and states it so there’s no room for misinterpretion. “I want to help you, Victor.”
The grin that he adorns isn’t the same as before. The exhaustion and sorrow still lingers beneath it. It’s a start though, and Yuuri is okay with that.