Chapter Text
“Elias…”
His puppy.
“Elias?”
…who is no longer a puppy.
The fae calls her the robin. Their robin. Perhaps, being the otherworldly creatures that they are, they possess the insight not only to value her but also to name her as is fitting to her natures. Small and fragile in some ways, yet so very resilient in others.
The touch of a softer – much softer – skin than his awakes him from his reverie. Rather than startling him, it gently leads him out of his thoughts like the lure of a siren’s song, though answering it is not a doom as that befell those unfortunate sailors. Elias comes to the present of Chise Hatori standing beside the couch he has taken to lounge since their breakfast, her hand on the back of his. His limb is gloved but her warmth permeates through the fabric, reaching him as easily as if she has touched bare flesh.
Warm. Soothingly, delightfully warm – That is what Chise embodies to Elias. He revels in it for a second or two longer before responding.
“Yes?”
“…Can I ask you something?”
The orbs of his eyes narrow down on the petite figure of his apprentice. She is not the meek and subservient girl whom he met at the auction in what feels like a lifetime ago, but her gentleness is something inherent. The downed gaze is one of respect, hiding the burning curiousity that makes her ask in the first place.
Elias hates being asked questions but avoiding one from his precious girl is something he dislikes just as much. Besides, she comes asking him rather than going out on her own way to find out the answers. She usually does defer to him, but the worried frown on her brow says that she doesn’t truly believe of being humoured this time.
It makes Elias wants to defy her expectation.
“Certainly,” he says and rises out of his couch, surprising Chise at his sudden movement. She makes to withdraw her hand but with a twist of his wrist, he captures her smaller hand in his own, anchoring her to him and assuring her that he bears no displeasure towards her.
He waits for her questions with the silence of a predator. Chise understands this as a cue to continue, so she does.
“It’s about the College. The one Mr. Renfred is speaking of.” She chews on the inside of her mouth thoughtfully. “Mr. Stroud and Mr. Innis talked about it a little but…”
“…You want to hear it from me as well, and what I think of it,” he finishes for her. “To say it simply, they are a parasite at worst and a nuisance at best.”
“Harsh,” she says, but the corner of her lips tugs upwards with amusement. “What makes you say that?”
“They do not hold value to one as precious as you. You will only be a tool. You –”
Elias lets out a sigh through the gaping hollow of his nasal cavity. She feels it ruffling her hair and her smile widens. It is not amused this time, more of a fondness that makes his back tingles pleasantly. The tightness in his chest, the tightness of his anxiety, eases a little too. He wonders endlessly how it is so easy for her to influence him as though he is one of the full-fledged neighbours who crave her magic.
“…For all the mistakes I’ve made, never once did I thought of hurting you. Not willingly.” He tightens his grasp on her hand. It takes a conscious effort to refrain himself from using too much force on her delicate fingers. “The people of the College do not share my limitation. You have heard from Adolf and Torrey about the Sleigh Beggys acquired by some of the alchemists. A fine morning like this is better left untainted by the details.”
“Elias, I’m not just a Sleigh Beggy. I’m an apprentice to magic now. Your apprentice. I won’t be used that easily.” She steps forward, bringing herself closer to Elias’ towering form, her eyes firmly trained on his skeletal head all the while. “If I go among them, I will not be helpless.”
The primal instinct in him wants to change into a form where he can enclose his body around Chise and muffle her questions in his coils, but of course that is not an acceptable behaviour. Chise would have called it ‘an overkill’. If she has known the works of the College to the Sleigh Beggys before her, though, she would not have denied his protection.
However, what worries him the most now is the thought of her insisting to enter the College on her own. Yes, she is a capable magic-user even without Elias by her side. Furthermore, the neighbours love her dearly; they will surely answer to her call, even protecting her without prior request if they think their precious robin is in danger. She has Renfred and his apprentice too, if it comes to that. They may not care much for Elias Ainsworth the half-baked, but they have shown surprising reliability when it comes to Chise’s well-being…
And Chise herself is not a puppy anymore, not after what she has gone through. The robin is spreading her wings; Elias has no way of following her if she flies too high from the ground, where his thorns lay rooted.
“You are my apprentice,” he repeats, trying to make sense of the twisting, coiling sensation in his midriff, “Chise… do you wish to go to the College?”
“Alice’s already studying there. Mr. Renfred says that it will help me if I do the same. But, Elias –”
At this, Elias is indeed startled by her small hands twisting free of his hold, which then holds him in return on his lower arm. She takes another step forward; the only step she can make since she is now flush against his body. Elias’ remaining arm comes up instinctively, cupping the small of her back as though to keep her close.
“– Elias, I’ve promised you that I’ll stay by your side. Even after all those things, I still come back. Won’t you… won’t you do the same for me if I decide to go?”
Chise, you are killing me, is Elias’ thought as the twisting deepens into something painful that threatens to break him from the inside. However, her eyes encompass him like the touch of her hands, loving and hopeful and painfully undeniable.
They have warned him of this – The day when the student willingly chooses to stray from the master’s footsteps.
I will think about it.
But no – that will only delay the inevitable and perhaps insults Chise’s right to free will. In that, she is neither robin nor puppy; he has learned of this also, and in the hardest way possible. There has been no pain hitherto known to the ancient magus to rival the soul-tearing agony of abandonment when he saw Chise disappeared in a blue flash with Joseph/Cartaphilus. He treaded his days now with the utmost care lest a mistake would once again cost him her willing companionship.
Only one decision makes sense here, as bitter as it is necessary.
“I do not like the College,” Elias states flatly. Chise says nothing, perhaps already sensing that more words lurk behind his tense jaw. “…but I suppose the experience will be good for you. And as much of a cesspit as it is, it can’t be that all of them are corrupted by their practices.”
It hurts to admit it. He is a sufficient enough teacher but Chise’s potential cannot be confined here. He knows that much now from Angelica’s stern lectures, cynical advices from Renfred and gentle admonishments from Lindel. Their words would normally fall on deaf ears but when they speak of his beloved Chise, he will listen. The girl absorbs knowledge like her Sleigh Beggy’s body absorbs magic and, like the latter, something must be done about it.
“Elias,” she starts, but the rest of her emotions are spoken nonverbally. Her face lights up from the beautiful smile and her beautiful eyes. It seems to Elias that every aspect of the girl is describable by that simple word, from her sunset-red hair down to her feet, and everything else in between.
The twisting in his gut remains, only changed in nature into something a little less painful.
Surrendering to his instinct, the magus stoops to nuzzle his long, bony snout into her scalp. Her scent is strong here like wild roses in full bloom and he inhales it with greed and hunger. Outwardly, though, he keeps his movements calculated and his gesture decent. Chise thankfully reciprocates with more eagerness, draping her arms on the shoulders which would have been out of reach otherwise and pull them close together.
“Elias, thank you.” Her skin feels like silk around his exposed neck. The Cursed arm, her left one, has a rougher texture though it is still much softer than his. Elias trails his snout down to her face, nudging the smooth bone of his cheek against her carefully so as not to cut her on the various sharp points of his skull-head.
“We will have to discuss further on this matter.” Elias pauses. “Not today, though.”
“Not today,” she agrees willingly. Curious and diligent, she always pursues her goal like the relentless, shining hounds of Arawn himself. Something in his bearings – whatever that is, considering his lack of fleshed face to speak of – must have softened her.
More than softened her, for she turns her head and replaces her nuzzled cheek with her lips against the side of his skull. Elias stiffens for her kiss seems to awaken his inner thorns, lashing and snapping within his form like confined serpents.
“Chise,” he breathes out her name, feeling dazzled and comforted in equal measure. The tingling along his spine is now accompanied with a peculiar warmth that makes him want to shudder. Lately, it seems to him that he is becoming prone to this sensation, for some unknown reasons. Chise is always the cause but there is no specific action or event that appears to be the trigger – only being with her in general seems to be enough.
After the talk about the College, the urge to enfold her in his embrace increases frighteningly or, failing that, attach himself to her so that she will always be within view. That, he understands, is the call of his fae side that acts on the same impulsiveness as that which causes the Aerials to lure Chise into the Anthill on her first night here. With a sigh, Elias gives her another squeeze on her back before making himself release her.
“Do you have any more question? Other than the College, that is.”
“No.” She doesn’t go away so Elias waits for what she may be saying next. “I do want to go out today, though.”
“Of course. Do you need me to accompany you or…?”
“That’s okay. I’m going out with Stella to do some shopping.”
After the catastrophic episode with that Barklem girl, Elias is immensely thankful that Chise does not act as though her friendship with the girl is something to be kept secret; that she trusts Elias enough to inform him freely. If Chise still does bear misgiving, at least she does not show it in a way that compounds Elias’ newfound guilt at behaving so… recklessly.
Elias remains in his thoughts a tad too long that Chise adds, “Ruth will be with me too.”
At the mention of his name, Chise’s Grim familiar materializes in a swirling of shadows beside his master. His canid outline seems to smoke for a moment before solidifying into shaggy black coat, his muzzle nudging at Chise’s Curse-blackened fingertips in an instinctive display of affection.
“I know he will. I was just thinking of visiting Angelica… but I do have other things to attend to for now. Perhaps we can go together some other time?”
She beams at his offer. “Sounds wonderful. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Alright. Be safe now, Chise.”
“Thanks, Elias. I’ll see you in the evening!”
Elias watches Chise and Ruth excuse themselves from the living room as he returns to his couch. The sounds of a door opening and closing mark their departure, leaving the magus alone with Silver Lady, the latter coming to him with a tray that holds today’s morning snacks: A cup of tea, Darjeeling by the look and smell of it, and a plate of blueberry muffins. He thanks the brownie, pauses as he lifts the cup to his muzzle and asks, “Did Chise eat before leaving? What about Ruth?”
Silver nods primly. Her eyes sparkle with delight as they usually do when her meals are properly enjoyed.
“I see. Thank you again, Silky.”
She bows and, with a swish of her skirt, makes herself scarce to other parts of the house.
Elias gingerly tilts the cup, at an angle that takes some time to refine to avoid catastrophic spilling, and let flow the tea into his slightly parted jaw. He has worked so hard on perfecting his mannerism as an English gentleman, first as a simple exercise to sate his curiousity, then as means to make himself acceptable among the human populace; over the years, he is used of behaving as such until what is his façade gradually becomes natural, as though he is born and bred into it.
He sets the cup aside when it is half drunk.
He takes a delicate bite out of the muffin, his canine incisors easily slicing it into half. He swallows the first half, then the other.
He takes the second muffin and repeats the process. He takes the third when the second is finished, then the fourth, until all of them are done with.
He sips the remaining tea.
And still he cannot think of anything else but Chise Hatori, long after she is gone from his sight.
By the time Silver returns to collect the tray, Elias decides that his morning is awfully unproductive spent brooding like a dragoness with a stolen egg. Pushing himself out of the couch, he has Silver brings him his signature black robe while his mind swirls on chores that he can undertake on a whim. There should be much to do, now that the season is shifting. Spring is the time of growing and hoarding. The forest should be bountiful.
Weren’t they running out of ingredients for the medicines? He remembers Chise saying that to him a few days ago.
“I will be out in the woods today,” Elias says to Silky as he shrugs himself into the robe. Technically, it is not necessary to inform her. He has no other home to return to and no place to be for extended time. However, the routine sticks when Chise starts it, saying that at least, Silky has one less thing to be worried about.
Silky of course says nothing but her smiles become more often and that much ‘sweeter’, as Chise says.
His walk to the woods is uneventful. He fills his time listing all the materials he hopes to find, coming up with a mental map as to which path to take, running through the options he has if his goals are not met. Some herbs are readily cultivated in his garden; others make for better ingredients if allowed to grow wild, or are simply unavailable at other places. The wicker basket he carries is gradually filled with things he finds along the way: Berries, abandoned spider webs, barks pried off a 100-year old cypress, wisteria shoots and blossoms, wormwood leaves, a rusted penny sitting in a puddle, various parts of belladonna…
“There you are, my Child of Thorn.”
Elias looks up, briefly puzzled by the presence whom he has failed to detect, though the answer is obvious as soon as he beholds the unexpected guest. Besides, he has many epithets but only a few people regard him as a child of anything.
“Faerie queen Titania.”
Or rather, one of her branches. The female sitting on a nearby stump looks far younger than the Titania who has come to see Elias and his then-sleeping ‘bride’; younger even than Chise who is just stepping into early womanhood. The avatar of Titania in front of him wears the exact same shape and form as those who have brought him back from the brink of raging insanity.
“I wouldn’t have bothered searching there, myself. The morels you seek have yet to sprout. Come again after three sunsets for the harvests.”
“I thank you for the insight, Your Highness.”
He rises from his crouch and re-adjusts the glove which has been disturbed in his rummaging around the stump’s dead roots. All the while, his eyes are trained upon the deceptively girlish figure. Being part-fae himself, Elias is in favours of the queen but he keeps his guards up nevertheless. There is no harm in being wary especially when one is dealing with creatures of whims and fickleness. She wouldn’t have appeared before him for something as simple as a treasure-hunting hint.
He senses no other magical presences nearby and, as far as he can see, this seems true. There are no glimpses of the royal bodyguard, Spriggan, nor of her husband King Oberon. The realization of being in private audience with Titania increases his concern even further.
“Your Highness, how may I serve you?”
“The nightingales sing beautifully today, yet they speak of a lonely beast in the forest.” She leaps down from her perch and lands on the moss-covered ground as lightly as a windblown feather. “Walk with me, Elias.”
It is not a request.
The mage falls into step beside her as the queen sweeps by, unseen bells chiming in her wake. She carries with her the scent of spring and its verdant growths, but hers do not make him crave for more as Chise’s effortlessly does despite how pleasant it smells. The birds sing from their high perches as the pair walks along the trail. Wind rustles through the leaves and grasses, playing a soft melody where Queen Titania sets her foot. The sounds of insects talking are a steady murmur in the background.
If only it is Chise who accompanies him…
“Your mate,” the faerie queen begins as though picking up the threads of his thoughts. “She is not with you.”
“King Oberon is not with you either.”
Her laughter sends the doves fluttering overhead, their soft coos a soothing duet to the song of the wind and leaves.
“My, my, Thorn. I’m glad to see that your fire has not waned.” She stops and turns on her heel, too fast for Elias to understand her intention. Her hand shoots for his, grasping like a hawk’s talons – Again, so very different from Chise’s touches.
She uses no magic as far as he can tell but her gaze locks him to his spot. Eyes like gleaming amethysts meet his stare with an uncomfortable steadiness. He wonders briefly if he has crossed an invisible line in his impulsiveness but discards it quickly – Queen Titania is not easily offended, nor would she linger like this if she means to punish.
“Oberon goes where he will, and so do I. Yet we remain connected. You, dearest child, are alone. Even now, you long for her like the wolves who howls for the moon.”
“Yes.” Elias contemplates her words and his own body, at the sensations that flow through him and what they pertain to his emotions. “However, I am not lonely.”
He feels many things but none of that deep, bone-gnawing coldness that had once plagued him when Chise left to claim her wand in the land of the dragons; coldness that had come unannounced and left just as unceremoniously the moment Chise landed in his outstretched arms. Until Chise named it ‘loneliness’, Elias had spent his solitary days restless and confusedly helpless to counter that which he has no idea of its cause.
His own apprentice, as it turns out, is an excellent teacher herself when it comes to understanding his own psyche.
He misses her, that much is true.
He will miss her if she is gone for a minute or a day or a month – that is his nature that Titania and Oberon have warned him of, for the love of the fair folk is binding. Yet, his mortal side knows to endure until the next time he sees her. It is this belief which has warded off the worst of his cold-loneliness and tempered it into something of an anticipation.
“You have chosen a difficult path, Thorn,” the queen says with a pout. “How can I not pity you, time and time again?”
“As long as Chise will have me, I am content.”
It surprises even him, how easily the confession comes out of him.
“Be that as it may –” she tugs at his hands; an invisible force coaxes him to bend down to a level where Queen Titania can hold him in her palms. “– you are still one of my own, and she is dear to us all. Should a human’s life prove ill-fitting, the door of Tír na nÓg is always open for you and yours.”
Memories of his discussion with Chise this morning rears up uninvited. Having Chise and the College in the same line of thought is tying his guts into nauseating knots. A living Sleigh Beggy will be their idea of an ultimate prize, though Elias has to say that their notion of appreciation is not always to the benefit of the individual concerned.
It would have been so easy to –
“Your offer is a generous one, Your Highness,” he says, gently removing himself from her hold although he maintains his lowered posture so as to avoid offending the queen with tasteless rejection, “but Chise will walk her own path, and I shall stay in her shadows…”
…until the day she would let go of my hands.
“If that is how you choose to love her, who am I to say otherwise?”
She takes a step back. Straightening himself up, Elias is suddenly aware of the returning sounds of the forest, when all these while he has not realized of the silence which has befallen around them. Arms crossed under her barely-covered chest, she heaves a wistful sigh as she regards the magus standing tall beside her.
“Oberon is right. The children do grow amazingly fast on this side – especially you, Elias.”
Elias’ attention is caught on a seedling which curiously sprouts under her feet. Its first leaf unfurls mere seconds later, followed by a few more as it grows to a respectable height that reaches Queen Titania’s knees.
“We haven’t done that much walking after all, aren’t we? Alas, I will have to take my leave now.”
The youngest shoot at the very top of the plant swells with a greenish bud. Its colour quickly ripens, becoming as white as the clouds peeking overhead through the canopies, and petals unfold to reveal a petunia blossom.
“Perhaps you can bring your mate along to our next meeting. The King and I would love to talk to her again.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Elias?”
“Your Highness?”
“You do make for a fine husband for our little robin.”
Elias’ jaw drops open. His reply comes out as nothing more than a croak which he eventually swallows. The queen merely giggles into the back of her hand, immensely enjoying the sight of the mighty Thorn Mage stunned out of his wits. The petunia at her feet glows just as Elias gathers himself together; Queen Titania retreats, daintily nudging her feet to the flower, and is gone in a flash of green and gold and the fading rings of bells. Where she has stood, there remains only the petunia plant, appearing no different than others of its kinds wildly growing on the forest floor and out in the fields.
Of course. She is only a manifestation of a small branch, not the Faerie Queen in person.
His breath comes out in a rush. It is not pleasant for he feels it leaving his body much too urgently, but at least it is a relief compared to it being stuck in there. Fae creatures really are painfully capricious…
A fine husband, is it?
His gaze is drawn towards his left hand. There, under the thin cottony fabric, a white gold ring sits dormant on his finger, its weight having become familiar to him after all these months.
A strange uneasiness pulses at the back of his skull. Despite the intentions with which he bought Chise, he is a stranger to companionship.
Does he even deserve to be called a ‘husband’, let alone a ‘fine’ one at that?
As far as he understands human customs, marriage involves something more than the wearing of a ring or some sort of jewelry. Simon insists that there should be vows and witnesses to formalize a wedding according to his belief. Apparently, humans also have varying laws on the age of consent as brought up by Angelica. She means well to educate him on that matter, but Elias has come out of her shop feeling ever more overwhelmed, like one of her enchanted birds stuffed to the brim with deliveries.
“Really now, Ainsworth,” Angelica has said to him, looking very close to swinging her broom with the sole purpose of ‘knocking some senses’ into him, “you can’t tell me that you haven’t heard of being engaged after all these times!?”
That was it, then – He remembers it now.
They lack the formality of human customs to be regarded as husband and wife, but the rings both he and Chise wear is a promise between them. Intended for each other until the time his fiancée sees fit for a true marriage.
Elias hasn’t come to Angelica with the express purpose of clarification then. However, he does appreciate the input even if he has to endure being called a shithead no less than five times, a pervert once or twice, and stupid more times than he dares to count. Angelica proves to be an excellent reference in the more technical or moral aspects of human lives, including this matters with age of consent and the state of their relationship. It is a peculiar notion to Elias who, until then, has run on faerie notion of nubility.
The magus’ mind is wandering yet again; Elias realizes this with a huff and resigns to the futility of restraining what is already far beyond his control. The words of the queen have left him thinking of his future, when before he is content to conform to whatever thrown in his way – or, more often than not, flee into the shadows and isolation where he can be content.
With Chise, the latter is no longer an option.
It seems that wherever he goes, something or another is dragging his thoughts back towards the Sleigh Beggy. To say that his moods are ruined will be a lie – his moods are always in the best of condition when it concerns Chise – but it will not be an optimal trip to continue his search with his current… preoccupation. Besides, he has gathered enough to sustain a few batches of potions and elixirs if the demands are as usual.
It will not do to discard a gift, though, so Elias sweeps back his robe and kneels in front of the petunia plant. A second flower is coming into blossom, perhaps aided by lingering vitality of the queen herself. He caresses the petals with the tip of a finger, sensing no curses or spells on them. He doesn’t expect there will be although caution is never ill-advised when dealing with the non-humans. He plucks the flowers from their stems, watching as new ones immediately grow in their steads.
It may have been a mere coincidence, but Elias suspects that Queen Titania is aware of the blossoms being among his needed ingredients. Just like the Queen of the Fae to indulge her whims like this. At least, she has saved him the trouble of hunting the last bit of materials needed to complete the calming draught ordered by one of the villagers.
“That should do it,” he says to no one in particular, and heads home with his basketful of forages and his mind hovering over Queen Titania’s parting words.