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On Thursday, Riven wakes up at sunrise. He despises it. Hates the incandescent glow of the sun, slowly rising over the tree line and lighting up the sky until it’s on fire. Hates how his sheets are wet with sweat, or how his shirt clings to his shoulder blades like a second skin that he can’t peel off. But most of all, he despises the dark, how he fears it as much as he seeks it.
It shouldn’t be like that. He shouldn’t get off on the thrilling wave that crashes over him when night comes and the gaps in his bedroom fill with shadows. They lap at his toes, daring him to come closer, and when Riven turns around to see how far he is from the shoreline, he discovers he’s with the water up to his neck.
Darkness is a comforting hug, both literally and figuratively, although Darcy has never been one for physical affection outside the bed. In the dark, he doesn’t need to hide or pretend, and when morning rolls around he’s ready to put on the mask it has taken him months to build.
On Thursday, Riven gets dressed and goes out for a run to appease his raging thoughts. His soles get caked with dirt and the fresh dewdrops on the grass. The morning air burns his lungs cold with every sharp intake of breath. He knows it’s not going to be a good day when he starts putting all his weight on his left foot. It’s non-intentional, it happens twice a week or maybe more, and it’s like his subconscious is warning him to watch out for danger.
Riven grunts as Red Fountain’s comes into view again, already finishing his first lap, and presses for three more, until the collar of his tee is drenched with sweat and he feels awake enough to scoff ‘good morning’ to a cheery, freshly-showered and ready-to-start-the-day princess Sky.
“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” teases Brandon, towelling his hair. He’s as shirtless as one could expect. “Look at you, greeting us like we’re people or something.”
“I’m feeling cordial today.”
Riven passes them to hit their shower, the one they installed for the fucking Prince of Eraklion and that Brandon, as his First Royal Squire, has taken the right to use, too. He turns the faucet burning hot and scrubs himself until Timmy reminds him they’re going to be late for breakfast, where they’re not even serving eggs and toast today.
He almost forgot what it’s like to share a table with these kids. Brandon is loud and merry and -for Saladin’ sake- loud, so much that the near table ends up knowing about the latest gossip in Solaria. Sky adds something between bites, not something meaningful but just clarifications about the status of those people.
“No, you are mistaking Princess Varanda from Callisto with her cousin. Varanda is the one with purple hair, she dyed it for Eraklion’s summer ball. It is her blonde cousin who was caught in that brawl.”
“Maybe we should dye your hair purple,” Brandon suggests, messing with Sky’s blonde and brushed hair. “Y’know? To make you look more interesting.”
Sky slaps Brandon’s hand away and sips from his juice. Riven bites a snarky reply. Sky wouldn’t be interesting even wearing a mullet. He kind of resembles a teaspoon. Timmy, on the other side of the table, is silently checking the local news on his phone.
Saladin interrupts in the middle of their Dragon Training class, just when Riven is trying to tame his dragon by feeding her apples. He gathers him, Brandon, Sky and Timmy and brings them to his office. The guys share nervous glances but say nothing. For a while, Riven thinks Saladin has finally made the decision to expel him for one and all and has called them to introduce his new replacement to the boys.
Turns out it’s just the girls. No, not the girls. The Winx. They’re in trouble one month in the new scholar year. What was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission has become a battlefield past the scrappy mountains on the west side of the forest.
“Faragonda has called for backup,” informs Saladin. “Your mission is to aid the girls to subdue the threat. Understood?” All of them echo a ‘yes, Sir’ and stand straight. “I believe there’s no need to tell you that I don’t want to see any deviance on the plan.”
The last part is solely aimed at Riven, who grits his jaw and says nothing, but nods along with the others. There won’t be any change of hearts. Not anymore. Riven knows Saladin has chosen his team on purpose. Riven knows this is his chance to fully gain Saladin’s trust, to prove to the rest he’s not a part of some evil plan.
So, when they’re collecting their equipment and Timmy is turning on the ship, Sky’s question catches him off guard.
“Will you be okay out there?”
Riven furrows his already furrowed brows. “What do you mean?”
“We all know who is fighting the girls,” Sky clarifies, “will you know what to do?”
He doesn’t answer straight away. In fact, Riven doesn’t answer him at all, he only tucks his purple sword in its scabbard and gets inside the ship.
He’s about to see his ex. Riven doesn’t how it’ll begin and much less end.
It’s easy to spot the girls, they’re a walking rainbow. The burst of colours and voices is a dead giveaway. Riven still doesn’t get why their uniforms aren’t practical instead of sparkly -you can’t take a fight seriously when you have more lights than a dance club. However, it is easier to find them when they’re in danger.
The Trix aren’t very quiet, either. Stormy's screeches swirl around the tornados she’s created with a snap of her fingers, and Icy’s frozen daggers melt under Stella’s sun power before they can hit her or Bloom, who flies out of reach from a bolt of red, unnatural and nasty lightning. As he suspected, Darcy isn’t on sight. She’s sneaky, manipulative and keeps a cooler head than her sisters. Riven doesn’t look forward to this battle.
Stella squeals in delight when she spots Brandon, who’s already by her side and also keeping an eye on Sky. “Hi, honey, what do you think of our admirers?”
Stormy growls at that and throws another fuming tornado that manages to throw Stella off balance. Flora tries to tangle the witch’s ankle up with thorny vines, but Icy freezes them, and Stormy breaks free. Dark clouds approach. Then, in a flash of red and a gust of wind, something flies past him and his seemingly statuesque form and gets near the centre of the vortex. It’s not something, it’s Musa and she’s gotten inside the eye.
What a madwoman. His stomach drops to his feet for a few seconds, until Musa gets catapulted outside at full speed and knocks Stormy off her feet, throwing her against the nearest tree trunk with the force of one of her Sonic Booms. She’s completely dishevelled; her pigtails fall almost undone and she’s grinning like a maniac.
“Well done, Musa!” congratulates Tecna, who’s sporting a small smile. “This is your best mark yet.”
“Practice has paid off,” she snickers as she dodges Icy’s counterattack. Her flying has improved a lot since last year. She cuts through the air as if it were butter.
“Where’s Darcy?” Timmy asks through the earpiece Riven and the rest of the team are wearing. He has retreated to the inside of the ship, from where he’s supposed to come up with a scheme.
Riven wants to say he doesn’t know, why would he, when they haven’t maintained contact since he realized conquering Magix wasn’t what he wanted. But… he has a slight idea of where she might be.
“Somewhere with shadows, preferably,” he guesses. “She likes to watch without being seen.”
His feet are already carrying him to the foot of the tree closest to the girls. It’s a clever disguise, and nobody would doubt it’s an illusion. Trees make shadows, after all, but this one is too still, too big and thick to be natural. Riven unsheathes his purple blade and plunges it deep into the grass.
“Show yourself,” he orders with a scowl.
Darcy’s frame gathers from the dark stain on the floor. She’s dressed in purple, like always, hazelnut hair almost touching the floor, and the point of her boots doesn’t compare to the sharpness of her golden eyes. There’s a thin, red cut on her forearm.
“Hi, puppy.” His heart gives a dull thud. His fingers grip the blade tighter. She just smirks. “I knew you missed me.”
“I don’t.” He doesn’t. But why has he stepped closer?
“Did you get tired of playing the hero?” Darcy keeps talking over him. “Have they realized how wicked you really are?” She stretches her arm, almost touching him.
“What are you doing here?” he grits out, “Harassing schoolgirls?”
Darcy scoffs out a laugh that reminds Riven of a crow. He can’t believe she’s the same girl who petted his head on her lap or rolled her eyes every time he ‘bitched about’ how Stormy would fry him in his sleep.
“Claiming what’s ours.”
“You stole the Dragon Fire,” he points out.
Her lips purse. “We can do it again.”
“Not if I stop you.”
Darcy circles him and her fingers curl around his shoulders, slowly descending to the gem that holds his cape together. Riven swats them away and grabs her forearm. “What are you doing?”
“We could’ve had it all,” she sourly regrets, fisting a bunch of his cape with her other hand. “Anything. Everything.”
“I don’t need the world,” Riven admits, aware of Timmy’s inevitable eavesdropping.
“Your soul was mourning when I met you. It longed for something it couldn’t reach,” she reveals. “That’s what led me to you.”
Riven lowers his head, teeth clenched as well as the hand holding the blade. His finger pads give in under the knife.
“What, dissatisfaction?” he barks a humourless laugh and doesn’t meet her eyes. The sting is still fresh in his core nonetheless.
“Hunger,” she specifies in a sneer. “My powers aim to feed. You were starving. For what?” Her lips graze his cheek, and while his blood runs cold and his skin itches to get away from her, his feet stay firm. “I guess I misjudged you.”
“Your powers are a smoke curtain. I’m nothing like you,” he spits out. I’m not something you can fill with your illusions.
“Au contraire, you and I are the same.” Her nails scratch his shaved jaw when she grabs his chin to turn his head. Her grip is still firm, touch deadly. “Look at them, engaged in a stupid high schooler-worthy battle. And us?” Darcy’s laugh isn’t a laugh at all. It’s a sick cackle that can snap bones. “We had better plans.”
“Are you sure you’re not the one who misses me ?” Riven presses, ignoring the echoing thumps of his heart against his void chest. “I didn’t peg you as the moping type.” He mocks her because he doesn’t know what other thing to do. Darcy missing him sounds more surreal than him missing her.
Darcy’s golden eyes hold nothing but crude honesty and anger when she accuses him. “Nobody’s ever left me before.”
It’s hard to swallow with his throat closed off, so he chews the words for a bit before letting them out. It’s the only indulgence he’ll allow himself to have.
“I’ve never had someone to leave behind.” The tension is heavy and the silence is broken with his sigh. “I wish it could’ve worked. It definitely would have made things easier.”
“To rule over Magix?” Darcy guesses, eyebrows raised in annoyance.
“No, to keep in touch. From now on I will only see you behind bars, and you’ll have to settle for visits every two weekends. That is if they’ll allow them.”
“You truly believe you’ll stop us.” It’s not a question. Her arms cross on her stomach. “Why are you so sure you’re in the right team now? Do you think they’ll ever take you in as one of them?”
He glances briefly at the Specialists and the Winx. They’ve always known which was the right path, never doubted themselves or the purpose they were fighting for. Darcy’s voice is like a venomous poison dripping into his mind.
“The sooner you realize you don’t fit in, the better.”
Riven shakes his head and racks a hand through his knotted hair.
“I’ve known you long enough to learn how you play your cards. You’re trying to twist my thoughts, make me slip. And I won’t.”
“And whose head I took those thoughts from?” She taunts. “I’m only saying what you don’t want to hear but think anyway.”
Riven is about to open his mouth when a new, static voice hovers in his right ear.
“Don’t listen to her, Riven."
It’s Timmy, who (as always) is right. He shouldn’t let Darcy get on his skin so easily.
“You’re one of us. We’re your friends.”
It’s not the word he would have used to describe them, but it sends a warm feeling inside him, like when your stomach is full after dining a warm plate. Or like when Freya Goodwin, Red Fountain’s chef, gives him a knowing and caring smile when he sheepishly asks for one more plate during lunch-time (and he’s the only one with that privilege, mind you).
Whatever Riven was last year, he has grown up from that. And he wants to keep growing until people stare at him the same way they smile when Sky or Brandon manage to save someone’s day.
His blade has a life of its own when he presses it against Darcy’s pale collarbone. “Get away from me,” he threatens.
“Is this your final decision?” she asks. His other hand pushes firmly against her shoulder and the contact makes him tingle. This feels almost intimate, nothing like what their nights used to be.
“Or I will have to stop you,” he continues.
“Isn’t that your job now?” Darcy inquires, and her smile tells him she knows she’s won. “You don’t want to, do you?”
“Be the one to hurt you? No.” His answer is kept curt and tense despite the honesty. Why lie when they’ve never hidden secrets from each other?
One second his hands are on Darcy’s body, next Riven is flying backwards with a sharp intake of pain curling on his right forearm. He clutches it with his hand as his sable is out of sight. This, he expected. Once Darcy doesn’t get what she wants she bites. They’ve never been some for physical affection, after all. The pain is tolerable, even familiar. He looks at Darcy through the huffs of his chest. Dark magic fucking hurts, actually.
An angry red bolt burns the tree trunk next to which he was standing until it goes up in flames. Riven can hear the Nature Fairy going off about “our environment” and “local preservation”, but his ears don’t catch anything.
Darcy flies out towards the sun and dissipates.
In the end, there’s no winner. The Trix retreat after Bloom unleashes the Dragon Fire and almost fries them alive.
They all walk back to the ship in silence, nursing cuts and blows that’ll take some time to heal. Riven sticks to the rearguard because he doesn’t want to talk right now. He doesn’t know what answers he can give. Yes, I’m over it. Yes, we’ve talked. No, I’m not getting back together with her.
He’s fine on his own, everybody’s walking in pairs and oh no, Musa is waving at Flora, who keeps going after nodding at something she said. It doesn’t take long before Musa is matching his pace, side by side.
He doesn’t expect it. Doesn’t expect her, and yet, Musa always manages to surprise him. His mouth feels dry when she asks him what that was about.
“Nothing,” he says shortly. He’s not in the mood for pep talks about moving on from your ex.
“You two were talking in a corner while we were giving hell to her sisters.”
“She was trying to make me turn my back on you,” Riven snaps before he can help it. —Musa scoffs a strangled ‘again?’—. They weren’t getting back together. “It wasn’t a reunion. It was a goodbye.”
“And how are you handling it? It must be…” she searches for the word as the ship comes into view. Riven is hoping that Musa doesn’t know how to define the mess he made in the short stretch that’s left. He’s hoping he can leave this conversation silently, let the question hang from her lips until she either forgets or makes up an answer in her mind.
“… Hard, yeah.”
Hard. Hard was knocking on Saladin’s office and begging him not to expel him after The Witch Rebellion. This was… A Completely Different Thing.
Thankfully, Musa doesn’t expect him to answer. She carries on with the conversation on her own. “It’s okay if you feel confused. But you have us now, so please use our shoulders when you want to lean on something, ‘kay?”
Her hand is warm on his shoulder when she bids him goodbye and jumps on the ship to go back to her friends, who embrace her like they haven’t seen each other in days. Riven lingers on the platform, hesitating in his steps.
Today has been like one of Codatorta’s classes in which he ends up drained from both outside and inside. He just wants to lay on his bed and die until tomorrow.
“Are you coming or what?” Timmy lends him a rough hand from up the ship. The sun is setting, the glowing will fade soon and darkness will come. He doesn’t want to be outside nor alone when this happens. He takes Timmy’s offer and hoists himself up. “You did well out there,” he congratulates, clapping his back in a friendly manner that doesn’t bother Riven as much as he’d have thought it would.
Timmy doesn’t push for more and Riven grunts in relief. He goes to his seat, buckles his seatbelt and tilts his head backwards, feeding on the last sun rays.
The sky is pink and soft blue when they soar through the clouds. The Winx are quiet and most of them have closed their eyes. Musa’s head is resting on Flora’s shoulders and her legs are in Tecna’s lap, who keeps a hand on her knee. Bloom and Stella are cuddled up next to the small window. Brandon and Sky aren’t very far off —Brandon is rubbing Sky’s arms.
Riven remembers Musa’s warm hand on his shoulders and Timmy’s tap on his back. Darcy’s touch hadn’t felt like that, it was more of a familiar coldness that accompanied him through his rough years, where darkness had been a hug of comfort. Here, he realizes, in the afterglow, it’s different and unknown but he seeks it all the same.
Maybe the light isn’t so bad after all. It’s the only way he can tell the monsters that haunt him in the middle of the night apart from the real world.