Chapter Text
The small village of Woodsedge was a poor place, a place where only the desperate and destitute ended up. So close to the wall that separated the mortals from the land of the fae, there once cruel rulers, not many wanted to live there out of fear, but not many had the choice.
With roads made of earth and buildings of old gray bricks, it wasn't a very attractive place, so few traders and merchants stopped by unless they were on their way to a bigger and better town. The only real businesses were a handful of small shops—a butcher, the baker, the tavern, and a general store that stocked the bare necessities. Trade came mainly from the brave hunters who ventured into the woods or the farmers who sold their modest crops to passing merchants. No one came to Woodsedge for opportunity—they came because they had nowhere else to go.
And the Archeron family were those with nowhere else to go.
Standing before a small cottage, Feyre Archeron, the second youngest of the family couldn't help but note that their new home was the size of her old bedroom. Adjusting the sleeping toddler who was asleep on her back Feyre watched as a few men from the village helped move in the little furniture they managed to save, her father having paid them with the few silver coins they had left. A part of her wanted to help bring things in, but she had been tasked with watching over her brother Edmund so there wasn't much she could do aside from offering Thank Yous to their new neighbors.
Once their belongings were inside and the helpers left, all there was left to do was settle in.
“Disgusting,” Her elder sister Nesta muttered as they stepped inside. Her voice, sharp as the wind outside, echoed through the cramped space. “I can’t believe we’re expected to live here.”
Their father said nothing, standing in the doorway, silent as ever. His leg still hadn’t healed, and Feyre wondered if it ever would, the memory of how it got injured still fresh in her mind.
Her other sister Elain stood off to the side, her hands clutched together in front of her, eyes wide and sad as they took in their new home. She didn’t complain like Nesta, but the sorrow in her expression said enough. Feyre watched as Elain’s gaze drifted past their father, past Nesta, and toward the worn floors, the low ceiling, the bare walls and tiny windows. This place was a far cry from how they used to live.
Wdmund began to squirm in his sleep and Feyre adjusted him, making sure he was comfortable. She wondered if he would even notice the changes they had just gone through when he finally awoke, wondered if he would even notice that they were no longer in their old house. A part of her doubted it. At two years old, he was too young to understand what had happened, too young to remember the sprawling estate they had once lived in or the fine clothes they had worn. Maybe that was a blessing.
Maybe he would never know how far they had fallen.
Feyre took a deep breath and forced herself to move. The wooden floor creaked beneath her boots as she carried Edmund toward the back room that would be theirs from now on, all of theirs to share. She placed him gently on the ironwood bed that had been their mother's, the last bit of luxury they had.
Edmund began to awake and whine but stopped once he noticed his sister and calmed down. “Shh, go back to sleep,” she whispered, stroking his soft golden-brown hair. He smiled drowsily, his thumb finding its way into his mouth before his eyes fluttered closed once more.
After making sure he was settled Feyre went back to the main room. Nesta was complaining again, something about the drafty windows, while Elain remained silent, sitting by their father at the small table. Her father's face was blank as he stared at nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts.
"This place is so small, and I can't believe I have to share a bed with the baby," Nesta grumbled as she crossed her arms and sat down in one of the chairs at the table. Feyre couldn't help but scowl at her sister's words. Nesta always managed to find something negative to say about Edmund.
Feyre wanted to say something but chose to bite her tongue, today was not the day to argue with her elder sister. Instead, Feyre went back to the room and crawled onto the bed next to Edmund who was still asleep but would most likely wake soon. He'd probably be hungry too as he hadn't eaten since this morning. They had some food with them, bread and vegetables, but Feyre wasn't entirely sure how to prepare them properly, her only experience with cooking being watching their old maids and cooks prepare things when they were nice enough to let her loiter around the kitchen.
"Take care of them." her mother's dying words echoed in her mind as she looked at her brother.
The young girl let out a heavy sigh and patted Edmund's chest. "I will, I promise, I promise you," she said, but not to her mother's memory, but to Edmund. "I'll take care of you."
•°⋞❆❆❆⋟°•
A decade had passed since Feyre made her promise and she had stayed true to her word, spending her days making sure her family and especially Edmund were cared for. But Feyre wasn't the only one who worked to provide for her family as Edmund also did what he could to take the load off his sister.
While Feyre had started working when she was ten, helping out neighbors and learning practical skills for survival, Edmund had started working when he was just four years old. His first ever job was a very simple one, all he had to do was stand in a neighbor’s field during planting season, shouting and waving his arms or a stick to scare away the crows, the perfect job for an energetic child, even if it did mean making a whole generation of birds your enemy.
As he grew older, the jobs became more difficult though, but Edmund didn't mind. He carried water for older neighbors, stacked firewood, fetched supplies from the village store, and helped out with anything that could earn a few coins or put food on the table. But Edmund never complained, unlike his sisters, he didn’t remember their family’s former wealth or easier days, work was all he knew, and he worked nearly every day for the past eight years, and today was no different.
The crisp winter air bit at Edmund’s cheeks as he swung the axe down hard on a thick log. The sharp crack of splitting wood echoed in the stillness of the early morning, the sound carrying far into the woods beyond the Archeron cottage. His arms burned with effort, each swing sapping more strength from his small frame, but he refused to stop. They needed to keep the hearth lit otherwise they'd freeze and Nesta would complain which was probably worse than the freezing.
Nesta was actually the one who was supposed to be doing this chore, Feyre had asked her too at least, but Edmund had gone ahead and done it himself, knowing his eldest sister would likely put the chore off until last minute and complain all the way through.
Grabbing another log, Edmund readied the axe but stopped when he heard someone. “Edmund,” came the familiar voice of Fyere coming from the front of the house. He looked up to see Feyre stepping out of the cottage, her bow slung across her back and her quiver bristling with arrows. A heavy scarf was wrapped around her neck, and her worn boots crunched over the snow-coated earth as she approached. “You’re up early. That's Nesta's chore for the day you know,"
" know, but I wanted to get it out of the way, are you going hunting? I'll come with you," Edmund said, setting the axe down. His voice was firm, and he straightened as if trying to seem older.
“No,” Feyre interrupted, shaking her head. “You’re staying here. It's not safe for you to be out in the snow,"
“I’ve been hunting with you before,” he protested, his voice rising in frustration. “I can help. I’m strong enough.”
Feyre raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’ve only been a few times and only when it was springtime. It's too dangerous out there this time of year, plus people have been seeing wolves out there and you'll be an easy target for them.”
“So will you, you're barely taller than me. I don’t want you out there alone.” He said, his tone growing more serious.
Feyre’s expression softened at that. She stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. I’ve done this plenty of times before, meanwhile you haven't, maybe when the weather is more favorable I'll teach you how to hunt better, but for now, stay home, please. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on the house.”
Edmund opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself. He knew Feyre was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Still, it didn’t sit well with him, the idea of her going alone into the woods while he stayed behind.
“Fine,” he muttered, picking the axe back up. “But be careful.”
“I will,” Feyre said with a small smile. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before turning and heading off toward the forest, her figure soon disappearing into the trees.
Edmund watched her go until she was out of sight, then turned back to his task. He hefted another log onto the chopping block, his grip tightening on the axe handle.
The steady rhythm of chopping resumed, each swing echoing through the clearing. It wasn’t long before the cottage door creaked open again, and Nesta stepped outside, bundled in a thick shawl. She scowled, glaring at him as he split another log.
“Do you have to be so loud this early?” she snapped, her tone sharp.
Edmund rolled his eyes but didn’t pause in his work. “Do you want to freeze and eat raw meat all winter long? Because if you do, I can stop chopping, or you can stop complaining.” He split another log with a satisfying crack, emphasizing his point.
Nesta’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Respect your elders, Edmund.”
“And respect the person keeping you warm and fed,” he shot back, wiping his brow again. He knew he was pushing his luck with his elder sister, but he was too tired and annoyed to care. Nesta’s expression darkened, but instead of continuing the argument, she spun on her heel and stomped back inside, the door slamming shut behind her.
Edmund sighed, shaking his head as he set another log in place. He loved his sister, but at times he couldn't help but get annoyed with her attitude and talked back despite her being his elder.
He chopped one more log before he finally turned his attention towards the woods. For some reason he couldn't help but feel the need to go out there and make sure Feyre was okay. For years he watched her go off into the woods and not come home till late, sometimes with game, other times empty-handed, but always tired and with scrapes and bruises. It always made Edmund feel sick with worry, always afraid of what could happen, afraid she just wouldn't come back one day.
Edmund placed the axe down and grabbed a few logs, bringing them inside and placing them by the hearth. He then went over to the other side of the room where an old and worn-out trunk lay. Once a nice blue piece of furniture was now just a regular chest covered in chipped paint, though it still served its purpose well. Lifting up the lid he moved aside a few items until he found what he was looking for.
He pulled out an old bow and some arrows. It was Feyre's old bow, the first one she had ever gotten before he managed to haggle a new one from a traveling merchant last year. Placing the bow over his shoulder and tying the arrows around his belt Edmund decided to go off with his sister despite her telling him not to.
Stepping out into the snow Edmund wondered if he should let his father or Nesta know he was leaving, but he decided against it, figuring they'd figure it out. With one last glance at the house, he ventured off into the woods to follow after his sister.