Chapter Text
Rue’s instinct was to reach up and slap the hand away. Nobody could touch them, and every fey knew that.
But this fey didn’t know.
This mud covered goblin reached down with his long as hell arms and tried to pluck them into the tree into his secret hiding spot.
And goddamn, Rue twitched to slap his hand away but then didn't. They wanted that touch to their hand, desperately, but if it was to be touched at all or to be touched by Hob or to be pulled into that confined space that they desired, they could not say.
The clawed hand of the goblin wrapped around their wrist, and pulled Rue sharply upward, which made them give a small chirp of surprise as they found themself in the canopy of the trees.
Hob was strong, they realized with a sense of wonder and a flutter of attraction that ran down their spine. They were far heavier than they looked, but the goblin had hoisted them with a single hand as if they truly were the weight of a petite elf.
“Oh, are you- that was abrupt, I must apologize,” Hob said, retracting his hands once Rue had found their balance among the branches.
Rue looked closer, needing to know if he could tell that picking them up should have been easier. The man looked flustered, as if he was aware too late of a faux pas, but his countenance was not suspicious or confused.
“No, no, that's fine, we were waiting for this trap, weren't we? And no better way than to hide together.” The space up here was surprisingly comfortable and roomy so they were not pressed against Hob, but they adjusted to take a seat to look down at the path below. This felt natural, in a heart wrenchingly unfamiliar way. Their body- and the talons that neither of them could see- knew how to be among the branches, how to hold on just right and settle into an unseen spot.
“I should not have put my hand upon you. This is still my first time amongst such company as yourself, and I act before I think.”
Rue smiled. “Isn't that what you goblins are made for?”
“Why yes!” Hob puffed up his chest, but this close, Rue could see something cross his face, like a glimmer of hesitation before he spoke. “A goblin does what he wants, when he wants, and damned be the consequences and damned be anyone in his way,” he said, as if reciting the line from somewhere.
“I see. And how does that work in a court full of goblins? Surely you're following the orders of your king?”
Hob blinked at them, as if trying to reconcile their words with this worldview. “I am honor bound by duty to my Court,” he said, without the same bravado. His yellow eyes were sparkling in the moonlight and Rue took pity on him after a moment of strangled silence and changed the subject.
“Are you enjoying the hunt so far?”
“Yes, immensely,” he answered immediately. “I am sorry for what I said before, though. I did not mean to hurt your feelings.”
The moments before he'd pulled them into the trees were still fresh in their memory. Rue had first thought that Hob wanted them up here, and then realized that it was largely to be better concealed- it still stung, even if Hob was continually walking back his words.
“Oh, it is no matter. I should not have- I know that you are focused on the hunt. It was foolish of me to think otherwise.” Their voice was as light and breezy as they could make it.
“I have given you offense.”
“No, no,” they answered with a tight smile. They did not think that they were truly offended, even if they initially had felt shot down. Because immediately afterwards he'd been so complimentary, so contrite about his words. And had pulled them up into his spot, like he sincerely wanted them here.
They were… curious? Perhaps that was the word. They were interested to see what this goblin could be doing when he wasn't following the rules of the fey. At least not any rules that Rue knew of.
“Was I wrong to bring you up here?”
Rue considered that. “No,” they said finally. “May I ask why you brought me up here?”
“Because I could,” he said without hesitation. “And… I did not want you alone in the dark woods.” The second part came slower, more thoughtfully. Rue wondered if there was a difference between the goblin that spoke quickly, saying what was expected of him, and the goblin that answered second, saying what was on his mind.
“And now that you have me up here, what was your plan?” They leaned in, the two of them sitting on branches a few feet apart, face to face.
Hob leaned in as well, on instinct.
The pair of them weren't near touching, still at least a foot between them, but Rue felt another spark run up their spine at the way that Hob responded to them.
They needed to get out of there before they did something they'd regret. Or they could stay, and see where this led.
“I had no plan, simply waiting for this trap to come to fruition.” His voice was a low rumble that they could feel in their ribcage.
Rue shivered, thinking of how this could very well be a trap for themself, something concocted by the Goblin Court, if someone had discovered their secret.
But Rue had been so, so careful. There was no way that anybody would know.
However: that confidence came from their actions, how cautious they were at all times. All times, save for this moment. They needed to leave, they thought.
“Then wait we shall,” Rue said, knowing it wasn't the right thing to do. They'd done the right thing for so long, and they were tired of it. And here was a fey who didn't do the right thing and Rue felt so drawn to him, pulled into his orbit because they craved that in their own life.
Rue returned to an upright seat, pulling away so they could look down at the woods below them. The thought of leaving now, right when Rue was connecting with someone, whatever that might mean, for the first time in millennia, sounded miserable. Instead, they settled back into the branches, peering at the forest floor below in comfortable silence.
The path below was still.
“Why did you apologize, once you'd brought me up?” They asked eventually, cutting the quiet that had settled over them.
“I grabbed you without permission, I was under the impression that such conduct was frowned upon by most fey.”
Rue ducked their head, thinking of how confusing this all must be for Hob, if he truly had not been outside the Goblin Court before except for in battle. The first Bloom for everyone was overwhelming. They could remember their own, still adjusting to their place in the Court of Wonder, squirming against the expectations placed on them.
“You have a deep sense of honor,” they noted with admiration.
“I know. I am working on it.” His large ears flopped down, like a dog who’d been yelled at.
Their stomach clenched at the idea that they had made him feel dejected, even if that had been the furthest thing from their intentions. Rue reached out to touch Hob, to reassure him, but caught themself in time and pulled back.
“Did you want to hit me? You can,” Hob said, no hint of jest in his voice, his expression so open and earnest.
Hob had already touched them, pulling Rue into this spot. That had been a brief moment of contact, but wasn't this the connection that Rue had wanted? Wasn't this what they'd come into the Bloom seeking, even if it wasn't quite in this manner?
“No, no,” they answered, and then moved their hand back towards the goblin.
Polite society would not have them touch him at all. Rue had relied on that for millennia, how easy it could be to never touch another fey.
If one must, or if two fey were courting each other, perhaps it would be permitted for a hand to touch a hand, preferably with gloves for both parties.
But the pair of them were in the trees, alone in the dark.
Rue placed their hand on Hob's muddy furry cheek, slowly, so that the touch was by no means a surprise and could be recoiled from, if he so desired.
Hob stayed put, his yellow eyes tracking their movement. As if by instinct, he pushed into their hand, chasing that touch, and his eyes closed.
Rue's breath left them at the sight, taking it all in.
As they watched him snuggled into their hand, they wondered if he'd been touched in this manner before. Goblin orgies were spoken of frequently in hushed tones, but that didn't mean that he’d gotten a tenderness like this from his compatriots. They cupped their hand around his cheek, thoughtlessly, like they were holding onto a fine crystal wine glass: they wanted to hold him so securely, keep this delicate goblin safe in their grasp.
His brow furrowed, and they instantly knew their mistake. They pulled back their hand, but he was too quick, and grabbed it with both of his, holding it palm up.
“Claws?” He asked, looking down at the green-skinned, manicured elven hand between them. His thumb moved along their palm and they knew that he was feeling the feathery fur that lay beneath the glamour. Soon he'd feel their fingertips, feel the claws there again, and he'd know.
They wondered what their claws would sound like when they clicked together, fingers interlaced. They wanted his hands to stay where they were, wanted him to discover for himself that Rue was not what they appeared, and they wanted him to accept that, immediately.
Dreams were important, the previous Master of the Bloom had told them, when they were still training for this. But one must always know when a dream must end.
“Let me go,” they said softly, and he opened both hands immediately, as if burnt, and they could pull their hand back.
“I only meant-” Hob started to say.
“I must go,” Rue said, and slipped back through the branches and down to the floor with a delicate thump. They wanted to run but they had slightly more dignity than would allow for that, so they began walking at a good pace.
They heard a loud thud as Hob also left the tree canopy.
“I only meant to ask,” he said, not yelling or raising his voice at all. Not walking towards them, either. He was going to let them leave, if that was what they desired. This strong goblin who could easily chase them down was standing still, and who could yell loud enough for the whole forest to hear was speaking softly.
His restraint was what made Rue turn around.
“You are- I do trust you, Captain Hob,” they said, feeling at a loss for words for the first time in centuries.
He stood up straighter at their words and nodded, as if he was taking that seriously. “I am confused at what had transpired. Your hands do not match what I felt, but perhaps this is common trickery.”
They took a step closer to Hob, and then looked around them to check for any other fey. The coast looked clear, but they did not know if they could trust a dark forest in the middle of a Bloom to hold their secrets. “I will explain myself,” they said, meeting his eyes. They were nearly eye to eye, Rue's heels raising them up.
The thought of looking in Hob in the eyes, at an even height, in their true form, sprung into their mind, unbidden. It was like the thought of their claws, gently hitting against Hob’s if they were to hold hands, the kind of dream that they had not let cross their mind about any fey in millennia.
They had to believe that it would happen, this time. They allowed themself the luxury of that dream. Or else they would not be able to tear themself away, when they needed to get out of this situation to regroup and figure out a plan.
“But not now. I will make it up to you in the future, but please- go to the hunt. Leave me.” they said in a quavering voice, and turned and prayed that Hob would not follow them, and would not speak of any of this to the others.
The forest was quiet as Rue continued on their way, listening intently. “If you command that I hunt, then hunt I shall,” he said behind them, and then they heard him jump back into the trees.
Alone, at last, they looked down at their delicate hand with immaculately polished short nails. They reached into their outfit and withdrew a perfect peacock feather, turning it over in their fingers for a moment before pressing it to their lips and sending it on its way to the branch beside Hob, where Rue wished they still were.
They took a steadying breath and walked away.
Rue retired to their rooms and wished desperately that they had someone there to talk to, but Wuvvy was elsewhere, and they didn’t even know what they would say. I think Hob knows something would lead to a dead goblin faster than Rue could get the words out. I think I want to tell Hob would be so unacceptably vulnerable.
Rue was above all of this. They had been so removed from the politics between fey as the Mistrex of the Bloom rather than an attendee. Even their first time, they were training, learning from the archfey in the Court of Wonder who plucked them from the mortal realm and made them his apprentice.
They had decided this Bloom would be different, though.
The plan had been to reveal themself after the Hart hunt, but the moment with Hob had shaken them and they’d abandoned that course of action.
An hour later, Rue called Wuvvy to them.
“Yes?”
“I have two letters, please deliver one to Miss Thistle-Hop and one to Captain Hob.”
Wuvvy nodded. “Would you like me to be seen?”
Rue smiled. The satyr was a professional. “For Miss Thistle-Hop, yes. For Captain Hob, no.”
They nodded, took both letters, and stepped out.
Rue wondered how long the Lords of the Wing were truly going to uphold their end of the wager: they could really use the kind of party that the troublesome cousins would have thrown at every past event.