Archive of Our Own

1)

In the haze of slumber, the knock took many forms. It was the midnight tap of Adaine’s tiny fist against her bedroom door, desperate for someone after a nightmare and risking a trip to her sister’s bedroom because even being fussed at was better than being alone. It was the clunk of feet as the Green Men marched up and down the stone stairs of Calethriel Tower, day after day, hour after hour, until she heard the sound all the time, even and especially when it wasn’t real. It was the frantic, desperate beat of her heart—drugged and drunk out of her mind, hands bound so tightly they ached—as the Bad Kids leaned over her on the roof of Ostentatia Wallace’s house, and she knew that she was either going to die there at her sister’s hand, or she would be in so much trouble with their parents, and she couldn’t think straight enough to know which one she’d prefer.

But the sound wasn’t any of those things. It was just a knock, not too firm and not too light, on her bedroom door, in her new house (home? could she ever think of it that way?) in the wizard’s tower of Mordred Manor. She tried pushing away the memories of her unconscious mind, cracking open her eyes as her head pounded with exhaustion. She leaned up on one elbow, and then, when she found the position stung too heavily at her joints and muscles, laid back against the pillow in the bed she, for now, shared with her sister.

She worked against her throat. Everyone had been very enthusiastic about making sure she was in constant supply of liquids to drink, but she felt thirsty most of the time anyway. She cleared it quietly, then managed, “Adaine?”

“Oh, no, sorry,” came the voice from the other side of the door. “It’s me. Uh, Kristen.”

She should’ve figured it was, but something in her chest panged all the same. The door creaked as Kristen stuck her head in, a bashful smile on her face.

“Can I come in? You ready?”

Aelwyn tried to not look as pitiful as she felt. “Here to torture me again?”

The others in the house might’ve flinched at that, but Kristen only snorted.

“Oh yeah, you know how it is. Clerics are all about the torture. That’s our whole big game, really. Don’t tell anyone else.”

“I suppose I’ll have to keep your secret.”

She gave a dopey smile, moving a little ways into the room. Her head tilted, red bangs flopping across her forehead. “I appreciate that. Who knows what sort of chaos we’d unleash otherwise?”

Aelwyn huffed a laugh. Without meaning to, her eyes closed again.

“Come on, it won’t take too long. One Greater Restoration a day, doctor’s orders.”

“Maybe the doctor is stupid and I just need to sleep.”

“Well, you already do that for about twenty hours a day, so …” A chuckle. “I do think they’re helping. You get feistier every time I come in.”

“’m always feisty,” she mumbled.

“You can tell yourself that. Need help sitting up?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

A beat.

“Are you going to, though?”

Aelwyn pushed out a sigh, then grumbled, “I’m going to. Give me a second.”

Mentally, she waged war against her body. She knew once she was upright, it wasn’t too bad keeping herself that way. It was the in-between that was the problem, getting her exhausted and damaged muscles to cooperate and not give out on her. When all the tests had come back—all the bloodwork and the MRIs and the X-rays—she didn’t need to cast Detect Thoughts on the doctor to know what the prognosis was. Spending months upon months at complete exhaustion, kept alive only by magic, in awkward, repetitive movement without stop or rest … well. She could see it in his eyes. FUBAR. She’d learned the term from Penelope, who mostly used it to describe her minor arguments with Dayne or whatever comment she overheard her hairdresser whisper about her that week. Not … not important things, really. But Aelwyn had been thinking about it a lot. Every time she looked in the mirror, every time she tried to remember her time in the tower, every time she saw just a hint of that old fear or malice go across Adaine’s face when her comments got a little too pointed.

They might as well have stamped it on her medical file. Mental health, physical health, life choices, whatever.

Fucked Up Beyond All Recognition. There was really nothing better to describe it, even if no one said it out loud.

“Did you fall asleep again?”

“No.”

“’kay.”

She steeled herself and pushed herself sitting. She could feel a deep creak within her joints her muscles strain. As she flopped against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed, she tried not to let the shakiness of her breathing become too apparent. It felt so incredibly vulnerable being weak in front of other people, but she supposed that’s what Kristen was there for. She was a healer, at her core. Aelwyn had seen her work greater magics.

“Great job. Outstanding. Ten out of ten.”

“Don’t mock me, Applebees. Even like this, I could still kill you. And I might.”

“And if you do, who’s gonna bring you buttered toast when you’re nauseous and don’t want to ask Adaine?”

Finally, she opened her eyes to glare. The younger girl looked smug, but like … like the smugness was an act for Aelwyn’s own benefit, hiding something softer and concerned underneath. She looked away. Her arms shook.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kristen said, walking forwards with an exaggerated sigh, “you’re incredibly scary and you could Fireball me within an inch of my life with a snap of your fingers. I’m properly intimidated and doing my best to hide it. You ready to do this, or what?”

“You don’t have to coddle me.”

“Aelwyn—”

“Or pretend you like me, for that matter. I tried to kill you—” Her mind supplied weeks ago, but she knew that wasn’t true. “… I tried to kill you. And all your little friends.”

“Yeah, well, so has the bag boy at the grocery store. Life’s weird, man, I don’t know what to tell you. You just learn to roll with it, ‘cause it’s like … fuck, I don’t know. What else you gonna do?”

Aelwyn stared out the window, at the clouded sky beyond. “No one has to be happy I’m here. You didn’t exactly get a say in it. And it’s not like I haven’t disrupted things.”

A sigh. The façade dropped, just a little. “Listen … Adaine sees something more in you. And we trust Adaine. So …” She shrugged. “For now, we’re just here to help you get better. We can figure everything else out after that.”

“And if I don’t?”

“What?”

“Get better.”

She turned back towards Kristen. Part of her said it as a challenge. A, well, surely, you’ll tire of me then, you’ll be at your wit’s end, you’ll see this was a mistake, as I’ve been saying all along, and you’ll get rid of me like you want to. The other part of her was torturously, desperately afraid of exactly that, and wanted to know what the answer was, as honest as she could ask it.

Kristen’s eyes dropped. She didn’t look guilty, but rather like she was thinking. Aelwyn appreciated that about her. Social niceties didn’t really dictate what Kristen said or did. She was earnest to a fault, and dealt with the consequences when it got her into trouble. It wasn’t something Aelwyn was used to, raised on airs and affect. The freckles on her face bunched as her eyebrows pinched in thought.

One shoulder raised in a shrug. Green eyes met hers again.

“Then we’ll take care of you.”

Aelwyn stared.

“You ready to go now? If you want some food first, I can make you some toast.”

Something pricked at Aelwyn’s eyes, but she blinked it away. She looked down at her tangled fingers and shook her head.

“No, I’m- I’m fine. I’m ready.”

“Aright. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Kristen approached, laid her staff on the bed, and knelt next to Aelwyn. One hand went to the back of her neck, the other rested over her heart.

“Here goes.”

Her hands glowed lavender, shimmered with starlight. The magic spread through Aelwyn’s body like a rolling storm cloud, and immediately, a whimper flew from her lips. She ducked into Kristen’s shoulder as her ears pinned flat against her head. It wasn’t … it wasn’t a bad feeling, necessarily. It was just- intense. Overwhelming. Taking days or weeks of a body’s natural healing and shoving it into a few short seconds—mending muscles, tending joints, wrapping around all her bones and holding them steady—it was … a lot. Her heart hammered. She felt like she might vomit. She saw her breath leave as fog when the magic faded.

Kristen didn’t let her go as the spell ended, just held the back of her neck and let Aelwyn rest against her. Two tears dripped down her nose and onto Kristen’s shirt. A thumb stroked through her hair a few times as Kristen’s other hand moved to squeeze her shoulder.

“All good?” she murmured.

Aelwyn took a shaky breath, and let it out slow. Then another. The nausea faded, but now she was just tired. She sniffed. A final tear dropped.

“Fine.”

“Okay. You did good. Let’s get you lying down.”

Carefully, she helped Aelwyn readjust on the bed, curling into a half-fetal position as she buried her face against the pillow. The staff was picked back up, the end of it tapping a few times against Kristen’s bare foot.

“You need anything?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, you know where to find us. Someone will be up to check in a bit.”

With a little half-salute, Kristen turned towards the doorway.

Something itched at Aelwyn’s throat. The “Applebees—” was out before she could stop it.

Kristen turned.

Now that the other girl was facing her, open and attendant, Aelwyn felt heat burning against her cheeks. But she had to say something, since the name had traitorously escaped her lips. And she was working on it. Getting braver. She owed Adaine that much.

“What … what did you mean, earlier?”

Kristen’s brows furrowed. “With what?”

“Saying that you’d- that I’d be—” She cleared her throat. “-taken care of.”

For a moment, Kristen only stared. Then something on her face changed, something Aelwyn couldn’t quite read. She shuffled back around, briefly chewing on her lip.

“It’s … hard to wrap your brain around sometimes, I get that, but … we don’t … get rid of people. That’s not how we work, you know? We … we take care of each other, and we take care of the people who are important to us. Adaine loves you. And she wants you to be here. And as long as you love Adaine, and you want to be here, then you will be. None of the rest of it really matters. So, just, you know. Get used to that. Being looked after. It’s an adjustment, but it … it’s good. I promise.”

Aelwyn stared. The words buffeted against her mind, but she felt like, eventually, maybe, she would allow herself to believe them. Some part of her thought she owed Kristen something in exchange, but knew there was nothing she’d be able to say that could make up for … all of it. She swallowed. Her lips twisted.

“I’ve never had healing magic done on me before.” She tried to hold Kristen’s gaze despite her desire to look away. “It feels different.”

A little smile tugged one corner of Kristen’s lips. Something sad, and nostalgic.

“I had to learn young. My brothers were constantly getting into shit. Scraped knees and bruises and knocked out teeth. I was the good kid, if you can believe it.”

Aelwyn did, despite it all. There was a lot more to Kristen Applebees than she liked to let on.

“Thank you for saving Adaine. Back in the forest.”

Kristen watched her. A short nod.

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

There was more Aelwyn wanted to say. More she meant. That she wanted to understand how that felt, to take that protective instinct and actually … help people. To not use it to shield herself and deflect blows, literal or emotional. She wanted to know what the magic felt like to Kristen, stitching wounds and restoring life. Did it feel amazing? Or was it a burden, an ache, like all other things Aelwyn knew?

Kristen shifted. The end of the staff tapped against her foot. “I’ll be back up tomorrow. I can—” Her face pinkened, a little. “I have some funny stories about my brothers, if … if you want.”

She nodded. “I’d like that.”

The smile on Kristen’s face softened. “Okay. Tomorrow, then. Catch you later, Abernant.”

As the door closed behind her, Aelwyn found her eyes sliding to the opposite wall. Her body thrummed with weariness, but she didn’t sleep. In her mind, she saw Adaine fall, and she saw Kristen bring her back up. And she saw it again. And again. And she thought that maybe, if there was something that wasn’t Fucked Up, it was that. That Adaine had people who would get her back up when she went down.

Something tingled at her fingers, but Aelwyn was too lost in thought to notice.

2)

She knew she was hovering. Adaine knew she was hovering. The ghosts in the graveyard knew she was hovering. It was everything she could do to keep her Abjurative Ward from forming around her sister, fingers grasping at her elbows in lieu of reaching out.

“I’ll be back in like, two hours, max,” Adaine said, shrugging on her jacket and grabbing for her bag. “Three, maybe.”

“Right,” Aelwyn mumbled. Her fingers pulled taut.

“And then we can hang out, I promise.” She brushed her hair out of the way as she slung the strap over her shoulder. She hadn’t cut it in a while—it was a few inches past her chin.

“No, no, it’s- yeah,” Aelwyn said. “I just- if I could come, I’d feel—”

Adaine sighed, not in a frustrated way (well, maybe a frustrated way, Aelwyn thought), but in a we’ve already talked about this way. “No, yes, it’s just—”

“Right.”

“-I’m walking, because Gorgug and Fig are coming in from Bastion, and Jawbone took the car, so—”

“No, I know.”

“It’s—” Adaine shrugged. “It’s a little far for you, still.”

Something deeply unpleasant swam in Aelwyn’s gut. “I could teleport us.”

Adaine stared at her, a slant to her lips. “Can you?”

Aelwyn was quiet.

Another sigh. “Listen, it’s just … it’s been a while since we just got to hang out, you know? No world ending catastrophes or curses or- whatever. We just kind of- it would be nice if it was just us, is what I’m trying to say in a non-rude way but am currently not finding the words for.”

A nod. “I get it. It’s fine. Have fun.”

Concern sat on Adaine’s face, and Aelwyn wished she had a spell that would banish it away. But she knew how the situation looked. How Adaine must be reading it. It wasn’t true, but it was easier to let her think that: that Aelwyn didn’t want to be left alone, and merely wanted the company of her sister.

A hand slashed through the air. “Three hours. Max.”

“Or however long you need. It’s okay.”

“Just text me if anything—”

“I will. Say hi for me.”

For a moment, Adaine stared, brows furrowed and eyes wide. Then she raised her hand, fingers curled except for her pinky.

Aelwyn managed to extract one hand from her vice grip on herself and lock her own pinky with Adaine’s. They shook their joined hands back and forth, like a promise.

“Have fun.”

“I will,” Adaine said, quiet.

Aelwyn stood and stared long after the front door had closed behind her.

There was a creak.

“So, you’re freaking out.”

With a horrible flinch, she spun around. “Fuck, Ragh, how long have you been there?”

He shrugged from where he was sprawled on the couch, a bowl of nachos carefully balanced by his hip and some sort of gaming console in his hands. “Like the whole time, dude. You just didn’t notice because you’re in your head because you’re freaking out.”

Anger flushed her cheeks. “I’m not freaking out.”

“I mean, you super are.”

“I- I’m—” She spluttered indignantly. Her heart was still racing from the scare, but it tended to do that a lot nowadays. “Shut up!”

He hummed, watching her.

“What?”

“Come on, man. Come sit down with me.”

“I- well, I have a lot to do up in my room, so—”

“You don’t. Come here. My ankle is still being whack, I need to prop it up on something.”

“Do you—” She shook her head, a rattled sigh escaping without permission. “Do you want me to grab a stool, or—?”

“Nah, I’m gonna use your lap.”

“You’re not putting your foot on my lap. I don’t know where it’s been, and it smells.”

He grinned at her, wolfish. “You can’t out-bully me, Aelwyn Abernant. I will so noogie you, like, don’t even test me.”

Though she wasn’t proud of it, she did stomp a little, arms crossed over her chest and frustration thrumming through her body. On the other hand … the thought of going up to their room, reminders of Adaine everywhere, reminders of Adaine’s adventures, all the dangers she’d faced … maybe sitting with Ragh didn’t sound so bad, compared to that. For most of her life, she’d been quite adept at solitude. And then Mordred Manor happened to her. Now, silence was … itchy. She liked having someone close by. It wasn’t a good look on her, she admitted to herself. It felt so needy. Vulnerable.

She sunk down on the couch next to Ragh. With a triumphant hum, he hefted his leg up and laid it across her lap. His foot did smell, but … the weight was … nice, weirdly?

She let her hands fall to his leg, worrying the soft, worn fabric of his sweatpants between her fingers.

“Come on, man. What’s up?”

Her brows pinched. She swallowed. “I don’t- I don’t know.”

“You don’t? Not even a little?”

A sigh. “It’s like … I don’t know.” She paused. “I’m just worried.”

“About what?”

“Adaine.”

“Okay.” His eyes were on the console screen, but she knew she had his ears, and that was nice. “Are you worried about anything specific?”

Images flashed through her mind, almost too fast to keep up with. “No,” she lied. Half-lied. It wasn’t specific if it was too many specifics.

“Hm.” His fingers clicked rhythmically at the buttons. “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to fight it if you don’t know what you’re fighting.”

Anxiety and panic swum together in her chest. She took a breath as quiet and even as she could. “It’s just, like- what if something happens?”

“To Adaine?”

“Yes.”

“At Basrar’s?”

She flushed. “Yes. Maybe. Shut up.”

“No, man, I mean, it’s—” He shrugged with one shoulder. “I get that. But also, like, they’re all super powerful adventurers, you know? If anything happens, they’ll probably kick ass and be back by dinner.”

“Yeah,” Aelwyn whispered. “But- but what if …”

“What if what?”

“If they don’t.”

Ragh was quiet. He looked up to watch her from under his lashes, head still tilted down to his game.

She swallowed. Tears stung her eyes and constricted her throat.

“And Adaine gets hurt,” she finally finished.

Ragh sighed thoughtfully. He let the console drop to his stomach, let his fingers tap the same rhythm against its back.

“Yeah, man. That would be really scary.”

Her eyes only lingered on the front door as her vision began to blur.

“Is that what’s been freaking you out? Thinking about Adaine getting hurt?”

Her chest grew tight. With it, the grip on his leg.

“That’s a really understandable thing to be upset about.”

Her head shook. She bit the inside of her lip.

“It seriously is. It’s- hey, man, it’s okay—”

She didn’t realize tears were pouring from her eyes until the wet splashed against her hands. The surprise forced a sob out of her, and before she knew it, she was trying to curl right into a ball and disappear.

“Oh man. Hey, come here. You need a Ragh hug.”

She shook her head, but there were broad, warm hands on her shoulders. In times past, in times not so far away, she would’ve pushed him off. In times further, she would’ve kissed him, just as a distraction, just to feel something besides the torrent she was feeling inside right then. But she didn’t. She folded against his chest like paper and let herself be held.

“Yeah, that’s it, dude. Good hug.”

She sobbed, hands grasping for purchase in his hoodie. “It’s so dumb—”

“It’s not—”

“No, it is! It is, because I’m so fucking—” She pounded her fist against him. He didn’t say anything. “-I’m so fucking weak now, it’s not like I could do anything. And I’m a fucking- I’m a godsdamn wizard, it’s not like I could help her. I send one shield up, and what? It stops one hit? Prevents one bruise? I can’t fucking—” A miserly string of sobs escaped her. She pressed closer against him. “I can’t fucking protect her, Ragh, and I never have, and I never did, and- I- I want to. I want to now, and I can’t, and it’s fucking killing me, and I don’t know what to do.”

Ragh was quiet. He rubbed a hand up and down—down her spine which poked little bumps along her back, up between her shoulder blades which were so sharp and bony now that she had nothing to buffer them from her skin. She felt so small compared to him, compared to his large, sturdy frame, his soft fat and hard muscles. She felt like a child. But then again, she’d never been held like this as a child.

He didn’t speak for a while, letting her cry against his chest. When he did, his voice was low and soothing.

“When I first started talking to Jawbone—” Up and down. Up and down. “-like, back last year, sort of, before- before everything went down … I used to get caught in these, like … thought spirals? Where I’d start thinking about something really upsetting, but it was, like, too much, you know, and so I’d- I’d just stop thinking about it. Force myself to think about something else or do something else, ‘cause it was just- like, it was way too scary. And I thought that was, I don’t know, coping with it. But Jawbone said it was, like … like when a song gets stuck in your head, but it’s just the same part over and over? And how you fix it is by listening to the end.”

Aelwyn sniffled and hiccupped against him.

“Sometimes you got to let the thought get to the end, man. Even if it’s really scary, and if it hurts. Otherwise, it’s just gonna keep going on repeat. Just, like- stuck in a loop. You gotta let it finish.”

Her grip on his hoodie tightened.

“What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Her jaw trembled. The words eked out of her in little shaking stutters.

“That Adaine is going to get hurt.”

“Mhmm.”

“And she- she gets hurt badly.”

Up and down, steady and sure.

“And—” Her lips fastened shut. Her whole body was shaking like a leaf, just so exhausted and afraid.

“It’s okay, man. I got you.”

A sob. He was so solid and warm against her. “What if she dies, Ragh?”

She felt him nod, chin brushing against her hair. It felt like the ultimate betrayal, to have said it, the thing she wouldn’t even let herself think. It felt like some god was going to snatch her words up and make them real, like she was unknowingly speaking it into existence. Adaine was the divination wizard, but they were sisters. Who’s to say she didn’t have some gift? It was thoughts like that that forced everything back—far, far back into her mind where no one could touch it and no one could find it and she wouldn’t even have to see it, to listen, unless she went digging. She’d seen her own mind, before. Walked through it with Adaine. She knew the defenses in place there. And she knew why she always put them up.

“Yeah,” Ragh mumbled. He nodded again. “And Fig isn’t there to heal her?”

“Yeah.”

“And Gorgug isn’t there to cast Spare the Dying?”

Her tears paused for a moment, eyebrows furrowing. “Yes.”

“And Fabian wasn’t there to give inspiration and Riz hadn’t already taken the bad guy out?”

She was quiet.

“And Kristen’s not there to Revivify her, either.”

“Ragh,” she whispered.

“And I’m assuming in this case that me or Jawbone or Sandra Lynn or Ayda or Tracker or my mom aren’t there to help or anything, right?”

Her bottom lip trembled.

“Things happen,” she managed.

“Yeah. They can. They can happen to anybody, I think. The world’s pretty crazy.”

He was warm enough that her shivers started to die down.

“I mean she is the Oracle, so, you know. There’s that, too.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. There are ways to get around that, she thought.

Ragh sighed. He rested his cheek on her hair for a moment. “Something could happen. It could. And it would be really scary and sad, and we’d be lost and confused and angry. And if there really was no way to bring her back, then … I don’t know. I don’t know what would happen. It would be really bad. Everyone, together, would have to figure that out.”

He paused for a moment, and she was quiet as she listened to him.

“But there’s never not been someone there before. There are … a lot of people around to make sure nothing bad happens. To make sure she’s okay. Because we all care, so much. Any of us would do anything for her. That’s what makes us a family. And …”

Against her ear, his heartbeat was steady. Calm.

“And I know there are a lot of things you regret about the past, but … you’re different now. And you can be different later. You’re worried about protecting her, then, okay. You can choose to protect her. If you don’t have the tools to do that now, what are you gonna do to make it happen?”

Ragh’s hand rubbed up and down her back. And Aelwyn thought.

3)

Her arms trembled. Sweat dripped down her temples.

“Come on, man, come on, you are so close, you got this.”

“I don’t,” she whimpered. She could feel every muscle shaking. “I can’t do it.”

“Okay well, first off, spring break, I believe in you, and secondly, yes you totally got this, come on! Just one more!”

She could feel the exertion as a pinch in her throat. She ground her sneakers against the floor. She pushed.

And she stood, bar held victoriously above her head.

Gorgug quickly snatched it away, hooking it back onto the machine as Fabian whooped and hollered. She stumbled forward weakly, body thrumming and dripping with sweat.

“Yes, gods, that’s my girl, you did it, you fucking did it!”

“Uh huh,” she managed, hands finding her hips as she tried to breathe.

“That was really good,” Gorgug supplied placidly behind her. “You’re getting a lot better with those.”

“Yes, she is!” Fabian said, teeth bared in a proud grin. “She’s been working so fucking hard. Ugh, man, you’re fucking doing it!”

“I’m gonna pass out,” she said.

The grin faltered. “Like, in a ‘yeah, that was really hard’ way, or, like, for real?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Oh. Okay. Do you- should you sit down, maybe? Do you need a drink?”

Gorgug circled the machine to stand next to her.

The room spun. Her head pounded.

“No, I’m just gonna- I’m- yeah.” She managed to not fall over so much as sink to the ground (gracefully) and lie back on the cool, tiled floor. It felt so nice against the damp back of her shirt. Her knees ached as they bounced together, feet flat and legs bent at angles. “Okay, that’s- better. I’m- it’s fine. I’m good.”

The boys hovered above her. Fabian glanced across her to Gorgug.

“Did we fuck her up? Is she gonna be okay?”

“I have Spare the Dying prepared if we need it.”

“Your whispers are very loud,” she mumbled, eyes slipping shut. “I’m kind of right here.”

There was a chuckle from the side of the fitness room.

“Alright boys, I think that’s enough hovering. Why don’t you give the girl some space?”

“Sorry, Aelwyn,” Fabian mumbled.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“’m fine,” she said. Her hand waved, lazy but shaking. “’m just gonna- it’s fine.”

Little footsteps approached them. “I think what Aelwyn needs is some sandwiches and some lemonade, and she’ll be right back to normal in a jiffy. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Her stomach rumbled. Food did sound nice. That had been happening a lot lately, which was … good, but weird. Everyone said it was good.

Her hum of affirmation escaped something closer to a whimper.

“Gods, lemonade sounds great,” Fabian said.

There was a silence. A long stretch of it, probably longer than there should have been.

“I’m going to go make some sandwiches and lemonade,” Fabian said dutifully.

“Argh, what a good boy.” There was a smile in Cathilda’s voice. “I’ll stay here and look after our dear Aelwyn, how does that sound?”

“Do we need Spare the Dying?”

“I think there’s probably more good you can do in the kitchen right now, Young Master Gorgug.”

“’kay.”

There was the shuffling of clothes, then a small flick against Aelwyn’s cheek.

“Hey, we’re gonna go make you some food, so don’t die, okay?”

She raised her hand enough to swat at him, but couldn’t manage to open her eyes. Her head was spinning too much for that. “I’m fine, fuck off.”

Fabian snickered. As their footsteps retreated from the room, she heard him say, pride lacing his voice, “She’s gonna be able to kick both our asses soon, just wait.”

There was silence in the room. Soft footsteps padded away, then back. There was a small squeak of tennis shoes as Cathilda sat on the floor by her head. Then a cold, wet towel was dabbing over her face.

“Cathilda?”

“Hm?”

Her throat tightened. “Am I going to die?”

There was a warm chuckle. “No, Mistress Aelwyn, I think you’ll be right alright.”

Aelwyn swallowed. She’d meant it as a joke, but it hadn’t come out like one. She didn’t know why the quiet presence of Cathilda, tenderly dabbing the towel over her head, was making something bubble and roil in her chest, but it was.

“The floor is probably very unsanitary,” she said, voice choked and desperate for something she didn’t understand. “I shouldn’t be lying on it.”

“I won’t tattle if you don’t,” Cathilda replied. “And in any case, I mopped it this morning, since I knew you were coming over.”

Her chest and throat burned. Her eyes stung. She must’ve made some expression, because Cathilda continued, “It’s alright, lass. You’re okay.”

A shaky gasp passed her lips as tears started leaking down the sides of her face.

“This is so hard. I don’t understand why it’s so hard.”

“Aye,” Cathilda murmured. “Getting better often is.”

“I know I’m getting stronger, but I’ve never felt so weak. It drives me crazy.”

The towel stopped, and pulled away. The absence of it, and the absence of a response, made a flare of anxiety light her chest, and Aelwyn opened her eyes.

Past the blur of her vision, Cathilda looked thoughtful. She wasn’t quite looking at Aelwyn, but rather somewhere near her chin. Quiet sat between them for a moment.

Cathilda nodded, as if to herself. A small sigh escaped her nose. “Progress can be very scary,” she said. Her eyebrows pinched a line between them. “It’s stepping into the unknown, in a lot of ways. But it also feels, sometimes, like we’re betraying ourselves. The person who we were before. Even if that person wasn’t who we wanted to be.” She blinked, refocusing on Aelwyn. “You’re a brave and wonderful girl. And everyone is very proud of the progress you’re making. You should be proud of it, too, because you decided who you wanted to be, the person you’d be happier to be, and now you’re seeing it through. But sometimes you need to remind yourself why you decided to change.”

Cathilda paused, waiting for her answer. Aelwyn said, truthfully, “For Adaine.”

A nod. “That’s a very noble reason.”

Aelwyn sniffled. Her tears had stopped, and she could feel the tracks drying on her cheeks. “She deserves a better sister.”

“And you deserve to become one.”

Aelwyn stared. A small, sad smile pulled at Cathilda’s lips.

“I lost my family,” she said, quiet, “a very long time ago. And for quite some time, I was lost. And then there was a young boy, who had a mother he didn’t quite have, and I knew that whatever happened, whoever he grew up to be, I would love him just like he was my own.” The smile softened as she looked at Aelwyn. “Adaine isn’t your sister because you were born with the same blood. You know as well as anyone that in the end, that isn’t what makes someone family. She’s your sister because you chose each other, and you’ll keep choosing each other in the time to come. You want to be better for her. Her knight in shining armor. And I think, as long as that’s who you want to be, as long as that’s what you’re striving for, and fighting for, and making change for, that you should never for a moment feel as though you’re weak. Because choosing love and devotion is one of the scariest choices we can make, but also the bravest. I don’t think it’s wrong that it scares you. You’re not wrong that it’s hard. But you’re better for it, and you’ll be better for it. And I hope, looking back, you’ll be just as proud of the person you are now as the rest of us are.”

For a long moment, there was quiet. In Aelwyn’s chest, something clicked and settled into place.

“Fabian is very lucky to have you,” she said honestly.

Cathilda chuckled. Her small fingers brushed Aelwyn’s bangs away, and she closed her eyes as a kiss was pressed against her forehead.

“Come on, dear girl, lets get you up. We’ll get you right and proper before the boys come back. The way you were working, I’d place bets you’ll be able to give the boys a run for their money with those sandwiches.”

Hands clasped, Aelwyn let herself be pulled standing. She felt better. In a lot of ways.

“You might be right. I feel like I could eat a horse.”

“Well,” Cathilda said. Their hands were still linked between them. “There will always be enough food for you here. And drink, and rest, and company.”

Aelwyn stared down at her. Something warm and protective hummed through her chest.

“That’s an offer I’d be proud to take,” she said, and squeezed Cathilda’s hand.

4)

The silence, Aelwyn thought, was worse. She knew they were angry. She wished they were angrier. They were quiet, but she wished they would yell. She wished one of them would raise their hand, just a little, like her father used to, so she had a reason for the torrent of emotions that raged inside her chest. But Jawbone kept slicing the loaf of banana bread they’d made together two days before, silent and focused, and Sandra Lynn stood with her arms crossed as the coffee machine hummed. Lydia put away what groceries she could, because Aelwyn had, though she didn’t even understand why, still bought them. And she herself stared down at the kitchen table with her one good eye.

Black coffee sloshed into a mug. Then it was being set in front of a chair on the other side of the table. Sandra Lynn leaned with one hip against the side, arms still crossed tightly in front of her chest.

“Is the ice helping?”

“Yes,” Aelwyn said quietly.

“Can I see?”

Slowly, she dropped the ice pack. It stuck for a moment to the swollen skin beneath her eye, and she tried not to let it show how much it hurt. Sandra Lynn took her chin between thumb and finger, turning her head gently back and forth.

“It looks better,” she said mildly. She paused. “I don’t think the lip needs stitches. Might scar a little.”

“Okay,” she said.

The hand pulled back. The arms crossed again. Sandra Lynn looked like she was going to say something else, then merely sighed and moved back into the kitchen. The quiet aura of disappointment was far scarier than the encounter at the store, Aelwyn thought. She prodded at her split lip with her tongue. It throbbed, and she could taste blood.

“Do you want to bring a slice to Aelwyn?” Jawbone asked quietly, and Sandra Lynn did so without comment. He turned to Lydia, eyebrows raised. “Do you want some?”

She wheeled under the modified sink, not looking at anyone as she washed her hands. “I’m fine.”

Aelwyn felt like she was going to scream.

Eventually, they made their way to the table. Jawbone and Sandra Lynn sat across from her, bread slices and coffee in front of them that they didn’t touch. Lydia stayed at the island, cutting up an apple with a large knife.

Hands linking together on the table, Jawbone sighed. His thumbs rubbed back and forth, and Aelwyn couldn’t help but notice his sharp and glinting claws.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?”

Aelwyn’s eyes burned.

“No,” she said.

Another sigh. His muzzle twitched, and she couldn’t help but think of the fangs hidden inside. “Aelwyn, you’re a citizen of Solace now. That comes with certain benefits, but being granted amnesty isn’t a free deal, either. You have to follow certain rules. So, if you get into trouble, we need to be able to help you out with that. Because that’s what we’re here for.”

Aelwyn was quiet.

“Did anyone else get hurt?”

The Bad Kids, they all knew, were safe and accounted for. Aelwyn had gone to the store alone, and had come back … like this.

Sandra Lynn glanced at the bruises on the soft dips between her knuckles.

“Okay,” Jawbone said, “I can be patient.”

She’d spent months and months and months in a spinning glass orb, Aelwyn thought. So could she.

(Had it broken her mind to splinters? That was … irrelevant.)

“I can’t,” Sandra Lynn said. Her thumb scrolled on her crystal. “Sklonda is sending me the security footage now.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Aelwyn mumbled.

“You get special perks when you share a book club,” she deadpanned back.

She tapped the crystal. They were all quiet as she watched. All of Aelwyn’s insides itched and squirmed and twitched and gave her all sorts of ghastly feelings. If it hadn’t come before, she thought, it would now. The bringing down of the hammer. The condemnation. The punishment. Whatever it was, she would weather it. She just … wanted it to happen, so she could know, and try to put herself back together before Adaine got home. She’d take whatever they threw at her. She didn’t regret it.

“Okay.” The crystal dropped to the table. “So, no sound. Which means all I see is you having a conversation with some young woman in the grocery store and then punching her in the face.”

Aelwyn’s lips twitched at one side.

“Is that what we do now? We punch random people in the middle of the soup aisle?”

Jawbone spread his hands. “There’s clearly more to the story than that. Everyone here sees the progress you’ve made over the last year. But we don’t know unless you tell us, Aelwyn. We’re trying to give you a chance to explain yourself, here.”

A shrug. She let the ice pack conceal half of her expression.

His knuckles tapped on the table a few times. “I know that … that a lot of our world is set up to solve problems through violence, but … Solace is meant to be different. And we don’t always succeed. Sometimes it seems like the only way to get stronger is through harm or cruelty. But there are different ways to go about things. We have words for a reason, so we should use them. And we also have laws and a legal system for a reason.” He paused. His mouth opened for a moment before he spoke. “Did this girl do something to you that we should know about?”

Her chin trembled. She shook her head no.

“Okay.” The knuckles tapped again. “Well, that could be a problem.”

“Of course it’s a problem,” Sandra Lynn said, hand rising. “If this girl can prove she attacked without reason, she could lose her amnesty status. We have to know what happened so we can fight this.”

Jawbone sighed and angled his head towards her. “She’s clearly rattled right now, so I don’t know how much progress we’re gonna make if—”

“We have bigger issues. If—” She shook her head, then turned towards Aelwyn. “Aelwyn, I’m not trying to scare you, but this is potentially very serious. I know you have your own stuff that you’re working through, but I promise that we are trying to help, and you need to let us. We need information to be on your side. Without it, we can’t make a plan. So, let’s just—”

“Okay,” Jawbone cut in, “why don’t we just take a breather for a few minutes and—”

“Jawbone, Adaine is yours, and I will respect any and all boundaries there, but Aelwyn is under both of our care and—”

Their voices filtered to a dull, low rumble in Aelwyn’s head. She felt the barriers going up, felt the locks going into place. She shouldn’t cry, she knew, because it was always worse to cry. But she honestly couldn’t tell if she was or not. Half of her face was numb and achy and the pain in her lip was so sharp. Her mouth tasted sour, but she couldn’t tell if it was upset or blood. Her nails dug into her palm. Maybe they were telling the truth, she thought, and telling them would solve everything. But it was unlikely. Not when she had messed up as badly as she had. She knew it was bad, she knew she wasn’t justified. And she knew they would be so angry and disappointed when she told them. She had tried, many times, to do the prim and proper song and dance with them, to be oh so polite and courteous and use all the right words and never drop enunciation. She quickly found that that didn’t work. Jawbone just got concerned and Sandra Lynn always called the charade out—Lydia, if she was around, would snort and make a comment about high elven culture and their strange customs. It was easier to just go quiet. To pull back to that part of her mind with the walls of brick and the gleaming shields and just … ride it out. Wait for the danger to pass and see if she was still okay to see the other side.

Her nails drew blood.

“That’s enough.”

She would’ve flinched if her whole body wasn’t so staticky. The voices quieted.

“You two are gonna step out for a minute and give Aelwyn a little space. I’m gonna have a talk with her, and then we can discuss and come to some sort of agreement about what it is we’re gonna do. That sound good to everyone?”

There was a pause. “Lydia—”

“I wasn’t really asking, Sandra, if that wasn’t clear. She’s got her damn ward up, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Oh. It seems she did. Now that she refocused her eyes, she could see the glimmering blue of her abjuration magic. It had formed a barrier between her and the adults at the table without her really meaning it to. Now that she was paying attention she was, she realized, also crying.

At the edges of her vision, aimed down at the table, she saw Jawbone put an arm around Sandra Lynn’s shoulders.

“We’re gonna be outside,” he mumbled.

The two of them left. After a moment, Lydia picked up her plate of apple slices and wheeled to the head of the table. She set down the plate, picked up a slice, and took a noisy bite. She chewed for a moment, tusks poking out of her mouth.

“You can drop it if you want, but you don’t have to.”

She chewed. Aelwyn was silent.

“You at least get a good punch in?”

“… What?”

“If you’re gonna start all this fuss, I hope you at least clocked her good.”

Aelwyn blinked. The green of Lydia’s skin was clouded through the ward.

“I—” She didn’t know if this was some kind of test. Lydia was always clever, even when she said the first thing she was thinking. It was something of the barbarian, Aelwyn thought. Going for the most direct route, the most impactful hit.

Lydia pushed the plate a little. “You want some apples?”

“No,” she said quietly.

A shrug. “Ragh hates ‘em. The boy lives on junk food. I could feed him chili for every meal, and he’d be happy. He’ll grow out of it, I think. I did eventually. I gotta teach you how to make my pho sometime, it’s pretty hard to do without help.”

Unsure what to say, Aelwyn didn’t respond.

Lydia put both her hands on the table, linking them as she hunched over it. Her muscles pressed against her shirt, jaw working roughly as she thought.

“Do you know why I became a barbarian?”

The quick changing of topics left Aelwyn reeling. All she could do was shake her head.

“People think being a barbarian is all about the rage. And they- I mean, they’re right, partially. But people who don’t know better just think about it all wrong. They have this conception that it’s about being strong, hitting harder, doing damage. That’s some of it. But not as much as people think.”

Aelwyn watched her. She could feel her instinctual hold on the Abjurative Ward slipping.

“Really, rage is about … it’s about taking hits. That’s most of what it is. You’re really not much more effective at, you know, killing things, knocking people around, when you’re in it. Sometimes you can choose to be a little reckless, and that might help, or it might not. It puts your ass on the line, for sure. But that’s all it is, really. The rage. It’s about putting yourself in front of people and holding their attention so they don’t even think of going for someone else.”

At some point, Aelwyn realized, her tears had stopped. The naturally inquisitive part of her mind had taken over, only curious about where the older woman was going.

“That’s why barbarians have to be scary, you know. Why we keep that whole thing up. We need people to think we’re a threat, and we need to be a big enough threat, that the bad guys don’t want to hurt other people instead. And when we’re in the rage, we’re good at taking all those hits. ‘Cause if we drop, they go after someone else, right? So, that’s what it is. It’s protective. It’s just one of the many, many ways to protect people.”

The ward dropped.

Lydia’s voice got lower, like they were telling secrets.

“I know this wasn’t about you. People talk shit about you, you don’t care, you’re gonna take that, a snippy comment at most. People talk shit about someone you care about, about Adaine—” Her head tilted back and forth. “-they get hit. You gotta draw aggro. Yeah?”

Aelwyn swallowed roughly. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

She sniffed, reaching up to wipe her nose. “I know it was stupid. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“We all get a little stupid sometimes.” She paused. “She say something bad?”

Her teeth found her lip. She let go at the sharp jab of pain.

“She said it was a good thing Adaine failed the entrance exam, because the elves at Hudol would fuck up a traitor.”

Lydia sighed. “That little piece of shit. I’da clocked her too, honestly. Can’t reach too high, but, hey, a gut punch don’t leave a bruise, right?”

A surprised laugh spilled from her, just bubbling relief. So did another tear, but that was besides the point. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Fuck no. You mess with a member of this family, you get what’s coming. I mean, yes, everything Jawbone was saying, solving problems with words, yeah, it has a time and a place, you know? Maybe don’t make this a habit, is what I’m saying. But that was a threat if I ever heard one. And you reacted to it. I don’t blame you for that. This little twerp tries to take it to court, and we’re gonna tell her what’s what, okay?”

Aelwyn blinked away the last sting of tears. She nodded. “Okay.”

“Girlie girl, you know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think we gotta get you a shield. None of this magic bullshit, I mean a real one. One you can kind of bash people’s faces with if you need to, you know?”

For a moment, Aelwyn stared. “A shield?”

“A shield. A proper one.” She quieted, one side of her mouth pulling into a smile. “I really think it would suit you.”

Little gears were clicking along in Aelwyn’s mind.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

Lydia put her hand on the table, face up. Aelwyn let her own fall into it. Lydia’s was rough and scarred and so different from anything Aelwyn had known before. That was comforting, in its own way.

“Sandra and Jawbone are scared,” she said. “They want to protect you, too, and they’re struggling to figure out how to do that. Because they care, they care about you a lot, and that’s where all that’s coming from. But they shouldn’t have scared you like that. So I’m gonna talk to them. And we’re gonna get all of this sorted out, okay?”

Aelwyn nodded. “Okay.”

“Love you, girlie girl. Now go get cleaned up before Adaine gets home. You still got blood on your shirt.”

She glanced down. “Oh, fuck, I do. Fig got me this.”

Lydia chuckled. “I usually just keep the stains in, but, to each their own. I’ll text Cathilda. She’s got to have something.”

“Okay.” She looked back up, their hands still joined on the table. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Aelwyn stood, laid the ice pack on the table, and gently prodded at her eye. It hurt like hell, but that was … fine. In a weird way, it felt good. It had never felt good to take a hit before.

She crossed the kitchen, heading for the stairs to the wizard’s tower. She paused, briefly, in the doorway.

Her head tilted over her shoulder.

“Love you too,” she said, and quickly left the room.

5)

The loose hold on the glass neck of the bottle was familiar, as was the movement of raising it to take the occasional swig. It reminded her of a different time, up until the sugary sweet taste of the root beer hit her tongue. Around her, voices layered under the thumping music, and something in Aelwyn’s chest was anxious and itchy.

“Parties suck when you’re sober,” she said loudly, legs folded beneath her on the lawn.

Zayn ran his fingers through the tall blades of grass. “Yeah. No one’s invented ghost booze yet, which seems … I don’t know. It’s an underserviced market.”

A glint of curiosity lit Riz’s eyes, then he shook his head. “We could … play Knifey Fingers?” he suggested meekly.

Aelwyn tipped her head back with a groan. “Gods, I miss Knifey Fingers. I was so fucking good at Knifey Fingers.”

“Shockingly good,” Riz agreed.

“I haven’t played it in so long. Sandra Lynn caught me playing it one time and took my knife. Not that there aren’t, you know, like a billion more inside, but.” She shrugged.

“We could, um …” Riz sighed, swirling his can of orange soda. “We could play Truth or Dare.”

Aelwyn groaned again. “No, you two are the absolute worst to play with. Riz, you never pick truth, and you’ll eat literally anything. And Zayn … well, our options for dare tend to be extremely limited, no offense.”

“Incorporeality can kind of be a bitch,” he agreed glumly.

She let her head roll to the side, trying to subtly work out the tension in her neck. “I’ll just, I don’t know … go try to find Adaine, I think. Have you seen her?”

Riz’s eyebrows scrunched. “Not … in a while.”

The itchy feeling in her chest grew.

“Well, gentlemen, it’s been an absolute pleasure, as always.” She stood, one hand finding her hip. “But I think I’m going to excuse myself to go bother my sister.”

“Oh, can you remind her she agreed to help me with the case tomorrow—”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’ll remind her, like it’s not already highlighted in her planner and on the calendar. Goodbye, boys.”

They waved. As she moved away, heading closer to the crowd, she heard Zayn say, “We could play Knifey Fingers.”

And, “You’re a ghost, man, it’s really not the same.”

Old instincts prowled through her brain as she slipped through the dancing people. The glass bottle in her hand felt too heavy. The hairs in her nose itched. She quickly made her way closer to the faux-stage as the song came to an end.

“Fig,” she whispered, as quietly as she dared with the dull roar of noise through the backyard.

Fig grinned at her and bounded over. “Aelwyn! How are we sounding?”

“Amazing, as always. If you don’t get a few people pregnant with the pure power of rock, you could color me surprised. I just- you haven’t seen Adaine, have you?”

The grin slipped, a furrow coming between her brows. Her gaze left Aelwyn as she scanned over the crowd. “No … not in a while. Is she okay?”

The anxiety thrummed. “Fine, I’m sure. Probably just slipped away for some quiet.”

“Do you want me to call for her on the mic?”

A snort. “No, she would absolutely murder both of us. But if I want to embarrass her later, I’ll let you know. I’ll just- she’s probably up in our room, so I’m going to go check inside.”

“Okay.” The worried look on her face remained. “Text me when you find her? You know I will personally kick every single asshole out of this party if she’s ready for it to be over.”

Aelwyn smiled, soft and genuine. “Yeah, I know. I’ll let you know. For now, just keep doing your thing. I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“Okay. We’ve still got a few more in the set, so …”

“Hey.” Aelwyn tipped her bottle. “Knock ‘em up.”

The grin sharpened. “Oh, you know it, girl.”

The walls of the house dulled the noise as Aelwyn stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Only a few close personal friends were allowed access to the house, and a few of them stood in the kitchen chatting or sat on the living room couches scrolling through their crystals. That feeling was getting stronger, the itchy anxiety that told her something was wrong. She made her way into the hallway and looked up at the stairs leading to the wizard’s tower. Then she turned and walked the other way.

Her ears twitched as she walked through the quieter wing of the house, nothing down here but the office and the parents’ bedrooms. She paused for a moment before the door of the master bedroom. She knew they were all gone—Sandra Lynn off on a week-long trip for work, and Jawbone and Lydia in Bastion City for a specialist doctor’s appointment. When she tried the handle, however, some tug of instinct guiding her hand, it was locked.

She pinched her lips between her teeth for a moment.

“Adaine?” she called.

There was a hiccup of sound from the other side. Her heart clenched.

“Adaine, it’s Aelwyn, I’m going to come in.”

Silence. No acknowledgement, but not a no, either.

Luckily, everything about Mordred was old, and what wasn’t old had been replaced cheaply. She’d learned fast how to jam her thumbnail in the indent of the lock and twist until it came open.

The lock clicked. She pushed the door open just a few inches.

“Adaine?”

Now that it was open, she could hear the quick, shallow breathing and whimpering cries.

She slid promptly into the room and locked the door behind her again. The sound was coming from the opposite corner, hidden from sight by the large king bed. Her bare feet padded on the hardwood as she made her way closer, heart a steady but prominent thump.

She stopped short as she rounded the bed.  

Her sister was sunk down into the corner, hands grasping at her legs and forehead pressed hard against her knees. It was easy to see, even from feet away, how bad she was trembling. She didn’t look up as Aelwyn knelt on the floor in front of her. No matter how many times she’d seen her sister like this, it didn’t get any easier.

“Adaine, give me a sign if you can hear me.”

No response.

“I’m going to touch you for a moment, but I’ll stop if you don’t like it.”

Again, when her sister did not move or say anything, or give any other indication that she was aware of her surroundings, Aelwyn reached out. She let her hand fall against Adaine’s leg, not too soft a touch, but hopefully not something that would be painful if she was overwhelmed.

Adaine’s head shot up with a gasp. Aelwyn quickly pulled her hand away. Her sister’s face was pale, forehead damp with sweat and cheeks smudgy and wet. She stared with wide eyes as if trying to comprehend what she was seeing. Some noise choked in her throat.

Aelwyn’s hand hovered in the air for a second before she let it drop. “Panic attack?” she asked, trying to keep her voice low and soothing.

Adaine trembled. A small, barely there nod.

“Where’s Boggy?”

Bright blue eyes glanced up.

In the tower, Aelwyn thought. She wouldn’t have wanted him at the party. Too much for a little frog.

“Do you want me to go get him?”

A hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t—” Adaine choked out. “D-Don’t go.”

Aelwyn’s heart thudded and cracked within her chest, but all she did was nod. “Okay. I’ll stay here.”

The grip loosened, and fell away.

Aelwyn watched her for a moment. “Is touch okay right now?”

A pause. A nod.

“Okay. We have a plan for this. Can we go through it together?”

Breath still short and shallow, tears still streaming from her eyes, Adaine nodded again.

Aelwyn took a long breath, and pushed it out slow. She could feel her own heartbeat, and she knew that it was steady.

“Alright. Give me your hands.”

Shakily, Adaine held out both of her hands. The nails had been bitten down to the skin, and at least one of them was bleeding. Ignoring that, Aelwyn took one of them and held it with her own over her heart. With the other, she held Adaine’s hand between them in the air and laced their fingers together.

“Can you feel my heartbeat?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay, try to focus on that. We’re going to do some breathing, alright? I’ll do it with you. I’ll count it out. When I pull your hand towards me, I want you to breathe in. Squeeze is hold. And pushing towards you is breathe out. Okay?”

A sniffle. Another nod.

“Okay. We’ll take it slow. Just do your best. We’ll do it for as long as we need to, okay?” Aelwyn took a short breath to prepare herself. Then she drew Adaine’s hand towards her. “In, two, three, four.” She squeezed, not too tight, but enough to be grounding. “Hold, two, three, four, five, six, seven.” Their hands pushed back. “Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.”

Adaine did her best to follow. Her breathing was raspy and hitched several times. She kept interrupting herself to hiccup as tears streamed down her face.

“Okay. Good. We’re going to do it again. Ready? In, two, three, four …” She pulled their hands. She squeezed them. She pushed back. They went through the pattern again and again, with Adaine’s clammy hand clasped within her own, the other pressed against her chest over the steady beat of her heart. Aelwyn knew it had to be steady, it had to be strong and sure, because that’s what Adaine needed. And if Adaine needed it, she would have it.

“Okay, again. In, two, three, four …”

Adaine’s breath came easier and easier. She drew in through her nose, held, pushed it out with a whoosh of noise as she breathed out. It took a while, but that was okay. Aelwyn would’ve stayed there for hours, if she needed to.

After a while, Adaine started moving their hands between them on her own. Aelwyn let her. She watched her sister, some instinct that was so old and fundamental, and so new and young, taking up all the room inside her chest.

“Better?” she asked, quiet.

“Yes,” Adaine whispered, voice raspy from her tears.

“Do you need a squeeze?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, come here.”

They both shuffled to their knees, and Aelwyn pulled her sister into a firm hug. It felt … well, there was a lot of things that were new, that she’d had to adjust to over her time at Mordred Manor. Being able to hold her sister like this, knowing her arms were strong enough to carry her weight if she needed to, knowing her sister trusted her enough to lean on her, and let Aelwyn hold them both up … there had been so many changes over the last eighteen months, but that was one that felt, with no doubts or stipulations, nice. She was strong for Adaine, because Adaine needed her to be strong. And when she needed her to be soft, she would be, and when she needed her to be nothing other than there, she would be that too.

She propped her chin on Adaine’s shoulder, making sure her arms were nice and tight, just as Adaine had said she needed when she had episodes like this. It helped her come back to her body. Grounding, she said. The heartbeat helped, the repetitive movements of their hands helped, but sometimes she just needed to be squeezed within an inch of her life and reminded that she was, in fact, present and safe and cared for. Briefly, Aelwyn’s mind slipped into the past, into all the old guilt and shame she’d carried so heavily for so long. She thought of how many times Adaine had had to suffer through these panic attacks alone. How many times she was chastised for showing weakness and sent off to her room, the sounds of gasping breath and tears filtering out from under the door. How many times had Aelwyn stood in front of it and not knocked, feeling so much rage and upset and not knowing why? Assuming it was because of Adaine, because she was weak, because she couldn’t just behave, and letting all those feelings just channel back into pointed comments and spells slung under the breakfast table, just feeding back into the cycle that she didn’t understand she desperately wanted out of.

How many times had Aelwyn felt this protectiveness in her chest and not had a name for it, and let it go by, untended and unloved?  

Aelwyn pulled in a breath, then let it escape as a long sigh. She took the guilt, and the shame, and the rage, and she named them, and then she let them go.

Adaine slumped against her. She’d stopped shaking, and stopped crying, as far as Aelwyn could tell. Usually, after these, she was just so tired. Aelwyn could carry her up to bed, if she needed to.

“Hey,” she murmured, letting her thumb make little circles against her shoulder blade.

Adaine hummed.

“Better now?”

“Yeah,” she whispered.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She felt the small shrug against her chin. “It was kind of stupid.”

“That’s okay.”

“That druid kid from Mumple wild shaped, and …”

“Mm?”

“Black cat.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” She swallowed. “I just … started thinking too hard. Kind of spiraled.”

Aelwyn nodded. They had much the same problem when it came to that particular trigger, she didn’t blame Adaine for getting upset. “You should’ve found me.”

“I tried, but it was so noisy outside and it … it came on so fast, I knew I needed to get somewhere quiet.”

Aelwyn hummed. “That makes sense.”

“And I …” Adaine paused for a moment. “I knew you’d come find me, anyway, so …”

A slow, rolling warmth filled her at the words.  

“I knew something was wrong,” she replied honestly.

“Yeah,” Adaine said. In the brief silence, Aelwyn could almost hear her brows furrow. “Did you … cast magic on me?”

“Did I? When?”

“A few minutes ago.”

Aelwyn pulled away. She held her sister by the shoulders, inspecting her. She couldn’t see any sign of magic. Just exhaustion and bleary eyes and a new layer of calm.

“No, I didn’t. At least I didn’t mean to. Did you recognize the spell?”

After thinking for a moment, Adaine shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. It felt … different.”

“Different? Bad different?”

“No,” she said quickly. “It felt … safe.”

Aelwyn watched her. Safe was all she ever wanted her sister to be.

“I- I don’t know. I didn’t do anything on purpose.”

For a moment, Adaine held her eyes, as if searching for something. Then, she got a fuzzy look, moments before a wide yawn cracked her face.

Aelwyn chuckled, the moment broken. “How about we get you lying down? It’s late, anyway, I’m sure the party’s dying down.”

Adaine rubbed at her eyes, nodding. “Do you …”

“What?”

“Do you think Dad would mind if we stayed in here? I know it’s stupid, and he’s only been gone for a few days, but … I don’t know, I kind of miss him.”

Her mind worked through the layers of the words. That Adaine had a father she loved enough to miss so strongly, so soon. That she had asked if both of them could stay, not even for a second considering that Aelwyn would leave her by herself.

Aelwyn squeezed her shoulder. “I don’t think he’d mind. Plus, once they find all the trash outside, they’ll have bigger things to worry about.”

“We’ll just blame Fig,” Adaine said, cracking a tired smile.

“We always do.” She tilted her head. “Is it okay if I leave for just a minute? I want to get you some water, and pajamas to change into, and also grab Boggy.”

A flicker of anxiety showed through on Adaine’s face.

“Why don’t you text Fig?” Aelwyn suggested. “She was a little worried when I couldn’t find you, so it’d do to let her know you’re okay. And then I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, okay,” she whispered back. “That’ll be okay.”

Aelwyn tried to smile at her, but there were too many feelings swirling through her to even manage that. They weren’t bad ones, she didn’t think. Just many and much of them.

“Okay.” She moved her hand to the back of Adaine’s neck so she could lean forward and push a kiss against her forehead. “Be back in a second.”

She moved through the house as quickly as she could, going up first to get the softest set of pajamas she could find (it was anyone’s guess who they belonged to, with how clothes seemed to travel between closets in Mordred Manor), then scoop Boggy out of his terrarium. She got the glass of water last, carefully balancing everything as she made her way back towards the master bedroom. The sounds from outside had quieted, but that wasn’t where her mind was.

She pushed the door open with her foot and toed it closed behind her. Adaine was lying on the bed, arms wrapped around Jawbone’s pillow.

“I got Boggy and pajamas and water, so—”

She paused. Adaine’s face was slack with sleep.

With a fond smile, Aelwyn lowered Boggy to the bed and let him hop over to Adaine, snuggling up against her stomach. She set the glass on the bedside table, and the folded pajamas next to them. Adaine had fallen asleep on top of the covers, so she pulled up the other side and wrapped it around her. There wouldn’t be any to cover herself, but she didn’t mind. She crawled onto the other side of the mattress and sat, propped up against the headboard. She was tired, but she didn’t want to sleep. She stared at the opposite wall and thought.

Deep within her, she poked and prodded, pulled feelings apart and examined and searched. What she came back with was that she had cast a spell, but she, for the life of her, didn’t know which one it was. Shield was as familiar to her as the back of her hand, so she knew it wasn’t that. And Adaine had said it felt different, too. Safe. In her mind’s eye, she saw her spell book tucked away in the drawer of her desk in the wizard’s tower, where it had been collecting dust for quite some time.

Her mind circled around the mystery.

And beside her, Adaine slept.

+1)

The battle had been raging for too long. The thing with a fight was that everything always seemed to move in slow motion—you could run yourself ragged, and when you took a breath and looked up, only seconds had passed. It wasn’t a marathon; it wasn’t even a sprint. It was one desperate lunge for the finish line, and whoever could reach their hand the furthest, and not knock their teeth out when they landed, won.

This fight felt like it had been going on forever.

In reality, Aelwyn knew it hadn’t. She knew when everything settled, they would find mere minutes had ticked by. But her adrenaline was fading, and there was too much bile in her throat. Her entire body ached in a way that she thought she had long left in the past. There was blood on her, and she didn’t know if it was hers or someone else’s. It was all she could do to keep a grip on her shield and try to stop her shoulder from falling out of the socket.

“Adaine!” she yelled. She turned in a circle, but heard no response. They’d all gotten separated, spread throughout the dark and twisted wood after their camp had been ambushed. Adaine had been with her one moment, gone the next. She could’ve bit her own tongue off in frustration with how stupid she’d been to let her sister out of her sight. She knew she had to find her quickly. A monster lay dead and mangled by her feet.

Legs trembling, she took off into the woods. In the distance, she could hear clinging swords and slinging magic. But the woods seemed to warp all the noise, turning it back on itself and echoing from the wrong directions. And it was dark, too dark, even for her. She cursed the fates that this was where they had ended up. She knew they’d all be happier to never step foot in a forest again.

“Adaine!”

“Aelwyn?”

“Adaine! Where are you?”

“I’m over- fuck!”

“Adaine!?”

She pushed herself further, faster. Her heart was a constant drumming in her chest. She heard snarls, the gnashing of teeth. The shield was heavy against her forearm.

“Adaine, where are you!?”

A large crack, a sound like fire.

“I’m over—”

There was a cry, and then silence.

“Adaine!”

Aelwyn burst through the treeline.

The shield spell was holding, but wouldn’t for much longer. Adaine was crouched on the ground, bruised and bloodied, with her arms up protecting her head as the beast rained blows down upon the dark blue glow of the magic. The Sword of Sight was halfway across the clearing, lying now by Aelwyn’s feet.

Some evil magics crackled at the beast’s claws. It reached up to swipe, purple energy snapping around its talons, and Aelwyn lifted a hand with a snarl and counterspelled it. Her own magic felt different than usual, but she wasn’t paying it much mind, too much tunnel vision on the danger Adaine was in and exactly what she wanted to do to the thing that was causing it.

The magic faded from her hand. The monster—all grotesque juts of limbs and ribs and far, far too many teeth—turned to look at her.

She held its eye, leaned down to pick up the Sword of Sight, and raised it at the attacker.

“Get the fuck away from my sister.”

Adaine’s head shot up at her voice, and the split-second distraction was all the monster needed. The shield sputtered out. Its first claw attack raked against Adaine’s shoulder—

And something within Aelwyn reached out.

Blood soaked through the sleeve of her own shirt, but she didn’t notice.

It reached down for its second attack, but Aelwyn was already there, body hidden behind her shield, bashing it out of the way for all she was worth. The beast screeched and tumbled away from her, quickly righting itself as it dug its ghastly claws into the ground. She gripped the hilt of the sword in her hand. It smelled so foul up close, like rotten meat and blood and some ichor from the depths of the Abyssal plane. She didn’t know if her throat burned with the smell, or her own sick, or the tears that were surely the things blurring her vision. It chittered and hissed. Aelwyn planted herself in front of her sister and waited.

There was a beat of stillness.

The monster lunged.

She drew the Sword of Sight up, through.

And the foul creature’s head sailed and landed on the other side of the clearing.

She stumbled. It was all she could do to keep her legs beneath her. Her breath was coming much too quickly and much too strained, but she would deal with that later.

“Adaine, let’s go, we have to find the others.”

She panted, vision swimming as she tried to strain her eyes to see past the darkness of the forest.

There was no response from behind her. She spun.

“Adaine?”

She stopped.

Her sister had been small, once. She’d grown in the time Aelwyn was gone, and she remembered now noticing that when her mind had been brought back. She remembered noticing that Adaine was taller, more sure of herself, older and more grown. In the years since, she’d watched her sister sprout above the other kids, watched her own inner strength change the strength in her arms and the sureness of her steps. Adaine was strong, in all of the ways Aelwyn could count. And she wasn’t so small anymore.

Now, Aelwyn could only see her as a child, crumpled on the ground.

“Adaine!”

She dropped heavily to her knees, tossing the sword and the shield away. Blood covered her sister’s withered form, and Aelwyn knew too much of it was her own. She didn’t respond as Aelwyn gathered her closer, pulling her halfway into her lap.

“Adaine, please, you have to get up, we have to go.”

There was nothing. Not even a groan, or a flicker on her face.

“We don’t have time for games, Adaine, please, get up.”

The unconscious form of her sister slumped against her.

Tears dripped from Aelwyn’s chin and blurred at the blood and dirt smeared on her face.

“Kristen!” she screamed. “Fig! Fucking somebody, please!”

In the distance, the battle raged on.

She scrambled for Adaine’s wrist. There was a weak pulse beneath her fingers.

“Hey,” she said, slipping her hand away to brush the damp bangs away from her face instead, “hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Adaine, please get up. I don’t- I don’t know how to fix this, I can’t—”

She squeezed her eyes shut. Her whole body shivered.

“I don’t know how to fix this, Adaine, you have to wake up.”

A quiet rasp escaped Adaine’s parted lips. When she felt for her pulse again, it was jumpy and slow.

Aelwyn pulled her sister against her and closed her eyes. She would not, Aelwyn knew, last for much longer. And everyone was too far away, and couldn’t hear her anyway, and who knew if they had any more spells. There was no one in the deep, dark woods that could do anything except for Aelwyn. And Aelwyn had an urgent and horrific understanding that there was nothing she could do.

And so she did something she had never done before, not once in her twenty short (achingly long) years—not once with their parents, not once in the tower, not once in the forest that had come before this one. Aelwyn closed her eyes and felt her sister growing colder.

And she prayed.

“I don’t know who can hear me,” she said, voice barely choking out from her tears-pinched throat. “I don’t know if anyone is listening, but I need someone and I don’t care who it is. If there’s anyone at all who can save my sister, I need you to do it. I don’t care what I have to trade in return. I’ll do anything, because I can’t lose her. If you want my life, take it. Just don’t let her die.”

Aelwyn waited. She could feel the shallowest rise and fall of Adaine’s chest.

Her teeth bared. Hot tears cut rivers down her cheeks.

“Please, you can’t take my fucking sister!”

The sounds of the forest quieted. Aelwyn shivered as she clutched Adaine against her chest, the only strength left in her just making sure she didn’t let go.

“Aelwyn.”

Her head shot up.

The forest had gone … shimmery. It was like someone put a filter over the whole thing, all the grass and the trees and the bodies and the blood just a pale blue and glittering. A figure stood before them, just outside of the line of trees. They were tall and reedy, with long, elf-like ears, but white, hard looking skin, as if they were made of bone, and long, curled tresses of hair that faded from light blue to the color of deep, dark midnight. Their eyes had no iris or pupil, just a soft, inquisitive glow.

Aelwyn swallowed. Something primal inside her felt scared, and humble. But more than that, she was scared for Adaine. And angry. Always angry.

“Who are—” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You heard what I asked. Can you save her?”

The figure tilted their head. They looked curious. Their eyes shone.

“I have an answer for that,” they said.

In her arms, Adaine was heavy.

“Okay. And what is the answer?”

“That I cannot.”

Hot blood thrummed in her veins. Aelwyn snarled. “Then why are you here?”

“Patience, child. I have an answer for that as well.”

“Patience? There’s no time, she’s going to die!”

“She won’t.”

Aelwyn stopped. Her chest shook as her breaths came ragged.

The figure lifted a hand, motioning around the clearing. “Time cannot touch us here. Nor death. I wish only to speak with you, for a moment.”

“I don’t care about talking right now,” Aelwyn said. “I only need her to be okay. If you can do that, then take anything you want from me. I don’t care. Take my life, if you have to. Just help her.”

The eyes glinted. “Are you eager to die?”

Aelwyn shook her head, not a no, but in surprise. “What kind of question is that?”

“You have offered it more than once.”

“I—” Her brows furrowed. “No, I just—”

“You just would die for her, if that was the trade.”

Aelwyn swallowed. “I would do anything for her.”

“Even live?”

She stopped.

The figure took a step forward, bare foot peeking out of their long robes. “It takes one wrong hit to be a martyr, Aelwyn. But it takes a lifetime of intention to be a knight.”

She stared up at the figure. As they’d gotten closer, she realized just how tall they were, like her perception was playing tricks on her, making them seem further away then they actually had been.

“A knight?”

“Mhmm.” The figure paused for a moment, lips bunching in a thoughtful expression. “What did you think I was here to offer?”

Aelwyn shook her head, glancing down. In her arms, Adaine was covered in the same, soft blue, the same shimmer.

“I don’t know, I just thought …”

“I cannot save her, Aelwyn. That is not in my domain. But I’m offering you a chance to.”

Aelwyn looked up. Her vision blurred with tears.

“What are you the god of?” she asked quietly.

The figure smiled.

“Soothsayers,” they said. “Divination. Oracles.”

Aelwyn tried to breathe. “You’re Adaine’s god.”

“She is not one of my followers.” Their head tilted, something fond, if their bony countenance could be described that way, on their face. “But I am one of hers. She is of my domain. And I’ve been watching over her for a very long time.”

With one hand, Aelwyn reached up and wiped the tears off her cheeks. Shame hung low in her belly.

“I killed the last one,” she said, looking back up as more tears fell. “The last Oracle. Why would you answer me?”

The figure paused, and thought.

“Because that is what was meant to happen.”

“So all this,” she swiped at her face again, teeth showing in a tearful grimace, “everything that’s happened to her, everything that’s happened to me, to everyone, it was just meant to be? Everything happened how it should? All that pain? And you’re fine with this?” The god smudged in her vision as she looked up at them. “How am I supposed to believe in a god like that?”

The figure sighed. There were deep lines of gold running across their palms, as they played and pulled at their fingers.

“It was meant to be, because that’s how it happened,” the god said. “And all the people who made it happen that way chose to perform their parts. And now you, too, have a choice. You will choose, and whatever you choose is how it is supposed to go. As it is, so shall it be.”

Aelwyn shrugged. Fire raged within her gut and made her words snap out bitter.

“So, what? I choose to follow you, or Adaine dies? Is that how we’re playing this?”

“No, Aelwyn.” The figure’s smooth brow pinched as they looked at her. “You choose to be her knight, or I have to choose a new oracle.”

She pulled Adaine protectively against her chest. “What do you mean by that? Her knight?”

“I mean that the Oracle was always meant to be a matching set. The Oracle and their Knight. The seer of truth and the protector of truth. You would not be my paladin, Aelwyn, you would be hers. And as long as you were faithful to her, that’s where you would draw your power.” They paused, smiling at her. “Adaine the Everyone Oracle, and Aelwyn, her Loyal Knight.”

Aelwyn licked her lips, and tasted salt. “So, I really could? I could protect her, and that’s … that’s what I’d be meant to do?”

“If you choose to.”

Aelwyn looked down at the unconscious form of her sister in her arms. In reality, it was Adaine as she was now, seventeen and grown and strong and having seen so, so much. But that’s not who Aelwyn saw. She saw her baby sister, five years old, crying by her door after a nightmare.

“Okay,” she said.

Adaine gasped to life in her arms.

“Adaine!?” she whispered, blinking as ruddy color slipped back into her vision. The clanging of swords and crack of gunshots and whir of an axe and deep, resonating chords came to her ears.

“Fuck,” Adaine groaned, “gods, that hurt so fucking bad. That fucking bitch monster snuck up on me. I- Aelwyn?”

Aelwyn stared as tears poured down her cheeks.

“Hey, your hands are glowing. Are they supposed to be doing that?”

Warm blue shone from where her hands gripped at Adaine. She made a sound, half sob, half laugh.

“Yeah, it’s kind of new.”

“New spell?”

“Not quite.”

She tried to sit up. Her body shook, and she collapsed back against Aelwyn’s chest, head resting on her shoulder. “I feel like shit. I think I lost, like, all my blood.”

“Need some more heals?”

“Can you do that now?”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

Adaine breathed easier as her hands glowed brighter, as Aelwyn felt warmth pass between them.

“It feels …” Adaine paused. There was a question in her voice. “Familiar, I think. I don’t know how to explain it.”

An exhausted, desperate laugh bubbled out of her. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

Adaine pulled away, pinning her with a curious look.

Aelwyn just smiled at her. “It doesn’t matter right now. Let’s just get you somewhere safe so you can rest up.”

“I’m fine. I can keep fighting.”

“No, I quite insist.”

Adaine laughed, then let out a fake, frustrated groan. “Gods, you’re such a big sister.”

Aelwyn beamed.

She helped Adaine get on her feet, get her steady. She knelt on one knee in front of her, the Sword of Sight in one hand and her shield in the other.

“Can you carry it for now?” Adaine said, rubbing at her shoulder. “My arm kind of hurts.”

The blood on Aelwyn’s sleeve was beginning to dry. “I can.”

She nodded, looking around them at the rest of the forest. “I think everything’s starting to die down.”

Aelwyn was only looking at her sister.

“Adaine?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Are you really okay?”

Adaine turned to look at her. There was a pinch of concern between her brows, like Aelwyn was the one acting strangely, like she hadn’t just held Adaine in her arms as her life slowly slipped away.

“I’m fine,” she said, quiet and grave. “What about you? Are you good?”

Aelwyn thought about it. And she smiled.

“I am.”