Wanderlust

“Well hello, little pretty.” The sound of a familiar voice didn’t get him out of his spot, but he did deign to turn his head and smile at her. He’d thought about the clever humany-human he’d met in a parking lot more than once since their conversation, and it was unusual for people to stick with him. That they were running into each other a second time unprompted struck him as even more unusual, even for a relatively small town. Morgana liked to say that things happened the way they were meant to. From a long enough perspective, he could usually see her point, even if he didn’t want to admit it to her. There were patterns, nudges, forces at work too obscure for even him to understand, but they were undeniably there.

“As it turns out, making other people grumpy puts me in a very good mood.” His smile turned sly and mischievous. Warning people away from the creek was, frankly, rude to water fae that just needed to eat, but Mordred never claimed to be polite. He wasn’t even particularly well-meaning. He just didn’t want to listen to screams of the dying and meat being shredded while he was trying to relax. Like most things he did, there was an angle in it for him.

.

She should have been more surprised to see him than she was. Settling down against the trunk of the tree, she tipped her head to study him, a smile of her own crossing her face as she did. She’d spent enough time traveling and bouncing around cities to know how rare it was to just cross paths with someone more than once. Even in a place as relatively small as the town of Fableton was, she rarely ran into people repeatedly. “Ah, so you’re the reason for the grumpy kelpie,” she teased, a soft bubble of laughter escaping her as she shook her head lightly at him. “You’re missing part of your wardrobe. Leaving the leaves with their trees today?” Her eyes danced with mischief as she recalled their original meeting. 

Mordred had stretched out all six feet plus of that lanky body on a fallen tree in Sherwood Forest. His hangover had mercifully passed, but sometimes the noise and metal of the town were still too much for him. It clanged on the edges of his awareness like shaking change in a can until he couldn’t stand it anymore and retreated into the trees. It was never truly quiet in the woods, but nature was a more soothing background noise. Even his power felt cleaner here, surrounded by green and living things.

Not too many people ventured this far into the trees–not too many humans at least–and from the breathing and footsteps alone, he couldn’t tell what they were, only that they were headed in the wrong direction. “I wouldn’t go that way if I were you.” He spoke without rising, or even taking his eyes off the dappled light and leaves above him, the same vibrant shade as his eyes, one arm tucked carelessly under his head. “There’s a very grumpy kelpie in that creek.” Nevermind that Mordred may have been the one to make him cranky; that was entirely beside the point. He had that effect on people.

Maia could hear her parents in her head, chastising her for being moodier than Mother Nature. She always thought she was like her mother could have been at her age if she hadn’t been settled down and married. Wild hearts had a way of winning out for better or worse. She loved the cities and nature in equal measure, needing them both for some kind of stability she couldn’t fully put into words for other people. She had a new appreciation for the woods that came with her hometown after her travels and often found herself wandering them. 

Deep into them today, having been lost in her head, the sound of a familiar voice made her shake her head with an amused smile. “A grumpy kelpie in a creek, huh? Are you a grumpy Mordred today?” She wandered over to lean against a tree easily in his line of sight. 

He could see her trying–and failing–not to find him amusing and felt a little smug about it. He could be charming when he wanted to be, and he liked this one so far. “Hmm. If you want those secrets, you’ll have to try harder.” Feelings were kind of tricky with the fae. They either felt it all or practically nothing, and his were complicated even further by his human half. Guilt? Not unfamiliar, but not one of his reigning emotions either.

“Which sets you high above most people,” he pointed out. The eye roll was implied. People’s willingness to remain ignorant was staggering at times, and it definitely had not changed with the centuries. Much as he was enjoying this conversation, he wasn’t enjoying the sun beating down on him or the headache still pounding in his temples. He needed to hydrate and go back to sleep, and she looked like she was headed somewhere.

He sauntered forward, and when he opened his fist, there was a jasmine flower in it. Most humans would assume it was sleight of hand, but since she knew what he was, she’d probably recognize it as actual magic. Or maybe not. It wasn’t unlike Mordred to throw a few human tricks into the real thing just to muddy the waters. He tucked it behind her ear with a smile. “See you later, little pretty.”

.

Maia’s eyebrow quirked at him, “If I was after your secrets, I’m sure I could have them. But that,” she reached over and tapped his chest with a single finger lightly, “would mean you matter more than a passing acquaintance.” She didn’t often invest too much time into people that were like leaves on the wind in her life. Nor did she let them spend too much time on her either, knowing her penchant for coming and going as she pleased. 

She smiled, slow and easy at the compliment, a little smug herself. She tried to be open and keep herself well-educated, as it kept her from making an ass out of herself as she traveled and met people from all walks and areas of life. Her fingers drummed against her bike, a part of her calculating time and readjusting her trip a bit but she was okay with it. 

Her head tipped at the sight of the flower and the smile on her face this time was more soft, more genuine. She stayed still as he tucked it behind her ear, watching him. “See you later, dark and dangerous,” she chuckled, leaning up to brush a kiss over his cheek before stepping back and swinging her leg over her bike. 

“Not my guilt. Theirs. What do I have to feel guilty about?” he snickered, not very kindly. Mordred wasn’t taking on that responsibility, especially not for people who had been there and should know it wasn’t true. He wasn’t even in Camelot when it all started to go sideways. A small part of him empathized with Guinevere and Lancelot, even if he couldn’t stand to be around them for long. Knights were difficult to resist, even harder to get over. At least somebody got a happy ending.

“Ah, but you could leave. Not everyone could say that, until recently.” He didn’t think that rule had ever applied to him and Morgana, who’d come to Fableton on purpose and never seemed to have any trouble getting where they wanted to go, but he knew most of the fables had been confined to town until recently. He was very interested in whatever magic had caused that, but he hadn’t been able to trace it to its source. “Ding ding ding. Give the girl a prize.”

Maia tshked through her teeth, rolling her eyes a little and trying not to be amused or entertained. “I didn’t say you had anything to be guilty over, though I’m sure there’s something most people would say you should if we went poking through your history. But that’s true of anyone,” she shrugged, the corner of her lips twitching into a smirk. She didn’t tend to feel guilt, but she also didn’t do things she knew had the potential for it, either.

“I could and did,” she nodded with a chuckle. Her head tipped in curiosity. She recalled a conversation with Maui about him not being able to go anywhere, but she hadn’t thought about the town as a whole being a giant rat cage, for all intents and purposes. It made her curious and she wondered how far into it she could really poke. “Oh look, I read,” her voice was droll, but her eyes sparked with mischief.

He couldn’t help laughing when she proceeded to tell him his own story. Well, adjacent to his own story, anyway. “Precisely,” he agreed. “Empires fall all the time without any help from star-crossed lovers. Or me, for that matter.” He spread his hands in a shrug. Arthur had sought peace in a time that wasn’t yet ready for it. It was a noble experiment, but it was always going to fail. “Do me a favor and explain that to them? I really can’t stand all the guilt.” He winked. He actually had as little contact as possible with anyone from Camelot outside of his sister, but he thought Maia would enjoy the detail.

“Sounds about right for this place. Don’t tell me you’re actually from Fableton.” Human or not, that was a novelty around here. He could count on one hand the people he’d met who didn’t come from other worlds. Fables could come and go at their leisure now, but most of them stayed. It was a comfort to be around other outsiders, even if they weren’t all from the same place. “Halfies,” he admitted, his grin widening on one side. “I’ll let you figure out the other half.” She’d read the stories, so that shouldn’t be hard. He didn’t exactly try to hide it.

.

Her eyebrow quirked in his direction, amused at him despite herself. “People like to have a scapegoat. That’s all,” she pointed out with a snort of laughter. No one ever liked to accept the consequences of their action or inaction, and would more often shift the blame than accept they had screwed the pooch somewhere along the way. “No reason for you to bear the guilt, just tell them to shut their traps and get their shit together,” she shrugged. It was something she was a fan of doing when people couldn’t get their heads out of their respective asses. 

“Believe it or not, I am. I was born right here. Didn’t stay, but still,” she chuckled lightly. She loved and hated her hometown in equal measure, or had when she was younger. Getting away and traveling the world had helped her realize and understand the good there was in it. Now, it was slightly fascinating to her, the changes that had occurred in her time away. “Halfies?” She flipped through her mental index of stories, and tipped her head to study him. “Fey? I’ll go with that. They liked to meddle and bounce.”

He stood there with a smirk while it was her turn to circle and look him over. He loved attention, especially the admiring kind (although he’d take the other in a pinch), so he wasn’t bothered. “You don’t believe that, do you?” he snorted. “An unfaithful queen and her wayward knight bringing down a whole city? It’s a fairy tale.” Admittedly, Guinevere and Lancelot had played a role in distracting the king from his real problems. But as Morgana often said, things happened the way they were meant to. Camelot was going to fall, regardless, without help from any of them.

“Good to know.” He grinned, unbothered by being wrong–or by being laughed at. He couldn’t say the same about being fully human, but since she hadn’t asked, he didn’t offer it up. “Maybe a little sensitive then. Humans have their own gifts.” He studied her face with interest. Fae had always been drawn to them, even as they scorned their mortality. Mordred had fallen for them before. Beautiful, talented humans who seemed to burn all the more brightly for their short lives. He’d never quite belonged on either side, but he could see the appeal of both.

Maia snorted in disbelief and shook her head at him. “I’m not stupid,” she tossed at him with a little roll of her eyes. “All their affair did was crack open a chink in Arthur’s armor, and that’s all an enemy, a smart one, at least, ever needs. That’s a constant in history, stories, real life, doesn’t matter. An affair weakens an image, makes the untouchable seem human, and humans can be hurt through very normal things.” She’d never been a big fan of the fairy tale of Camelot, of the perfect city of harmony or whatever nonsense. People were flawed and nowhere was perfect. 

She shrugged, “Who knows? I’ve managed to apparently befriend a demi-god, a genie, and a ghost at various points since I’ve come home. There’s no telling about some of my other friends and acquaintances.” Her head tipped to study him in return, never minding anyone watching her or her face. She thought it was a nice one, even if she put more work into her body for her dancing. “I’m going to go with you’re not entirely human,” she decided, his face was too sharply perfect and beautiful for that, in her opinion. That, and how he talked.

She was definitely being tested, but so far, she was passing. She was clever and didn’t intimidate easily, and more importantly, she took his side before she even knew who he was. He liked that in a person. Mordred didn’t mind being synonymous with the villain, of course. He even played the role from time to time, but everyone always defending Arthur got tiresome. He’d barely known the guy, but he was so squeaky it made his teeth hurt. Those white knight types always were. “Deal,” he agreed with a feral grin, shaking her hand. Humans were so weird. That was no way to seal a bargain, but he didn’t feel the need to bleed over one so simple.

“Then to answer your question, I’m the real deal. The original. The one and only. And for the record, I was little more than a bystander in the fall of Camelot, if that.” He added that one in for free. It seemed pertinent to the conversation. He hadn’t even stayed for the whole show before he got bored and wandered here to find his sister. “My turn, since we’re already down the rabbit hole.” He smirked, the only indication this conversation was going to get weirder. “Are you one hundred percent humany-human, or do you have something else in you?”

She managed not to shiver under his grin, but as she was finding in her interaction with him, it had very little to do with fear. Maia rarely had much of a fear response, much to her parents’ dismay, always choosing to enjoy the way things played out. When he answered, she grinned brightly, her absolute delight taking over. “Brilliant!” She pushed off her motorcycle to walk a circle around him, studying him from tip to toe now. “I can see that,” she admitted, “It was more a folly of human emotion that brought Camelot down, I think. I mean, from the stories and even they’re all different.” Feelings always seemed to make things messy, but that was living for you. 

She paused in front of him, her head tipped back as she laughed. “I am one hundred percent entirely human, as far as I’m aware,” she admitted with a shrug and a lift of her hands. “But I’m definitely flattered that you had to ask,” she teased, laughter filtering into her voice though it was playful and not mocking. 

He shrugged, smirking like there was every chance he was lying. Putting ideas into people’s heads was amusing. Confirming his bullshit stories, less so. He’d hate for her to think of him as a reliable source, even though he told the truth way more often than most people were comfortable with. He hiked an interested eyebrow. He was aware of the many versions of his story, and most people didn’t jump right to Mordred-isn’t-a-villain after reading them. “I know, right? Thank you!” Did this look like a face for villainy? No. It was way too pretty.

“Or…?” he trailed off, his grin widening. He knew exactly what she meant, but that was a personal question, not something to just give away freely. “Tell you what,” he proposed, sauntering closer. He circled her once, trying to pick up on something other than human from her. He hadn’t gotten anything so far, but some things could hide very well in plain sight. “I’ll answer that question, if you answer one of mine. And I’ll know it if you lie,” he cautioned. That was a lie. If he knew, he wouldn’t have to ask.

Maia was never bothered by a smirk, considering she wore one of her own often enough. It was a good way to subtly test the mettle of the people around you without them even realizing it. One of the joys of bouncing around subjects in college and taking whatever classes caught her attention was the vast amounts of random knowledge she managed to pick up. The things that she really liked, she dived deeper into and it seemed like mythologies and deep rooted stories were always part of that. “I mean, not entirely innocent, but in a lot of stories not the villain of Arthur’s story,” she shrugged. 

Her eyebrow quirked at him and she stayed exactly where she was when he got closer. She felt a little like she was being tested or judged and tried not to get her back up, staying relaxed. Maia watched him as he circled her, her head rotating to keep him in sight. “Fine, deal,” she agreed, sticking her hand out with a challenge written clear on her face. 

“Fortunately, wind spirits don’t have much of a memory.” He gave her a sly smile. She talked like maybe she knew some, but it was possible she was joking. Mordred was almost never joking even when he sounded like he was. As a half-human, he was capable of lying with ease, but he’d still learned the good neighbors’ art of dancing around the truth. It kept his skills sharp and made conversations more interesting.

He smiled when she gave her name away for free and he didn’t even have to ask. “Mordred.” It was one of many, but it felt the most like him and always had. Some people had interesting reactions to it. It had been a surprise to arrive in Fableton with his sister and discover they were legends. But of course he went down in history, and of course half that history was wrong. It gave him so much more credit for being a villain than he deserved. He was a spectator in the fall of Camelot, at best.

“Is that so?” She laughed lightly at the very idea, but also thought it was very fitting. The winds could rage or be playful, and all over the world they told stories differently. She’d always been fascinated by it, listening to stories by campfires, in taverns, B&Bs, you name it. She hadn’t traveled the world for nothing, her love of stories, mythologies, people and languages knew no bounds. 

She smiled easily at the name even as she raised an eyebrow. “Mordred, huh? A name attached to the fall of Camelot in most stories. I’ve never understood the villainy there but eh,” she shrugged as though it didn’t particularly matter. Her look changed slightly, became more shrewd and assessing. “The real question, because, and I still struggle with this, that it’s an option... namesake of history oooorrrr.....?” She let it trail off, just in case they were just a namesake and she was coming across as batshit crazy. But hey, she’d befriended a demigod, a genie, and a ghost apparently, sooooooooooo not so crazy. 

Fae couldn’t resist beautiful or talented people, maybe because some of them had so much trouble creating things on their own. He didn’t know yet if she was talented, but he’d inherited their love for beauty, and she was certainly that. She was almost too pretty to be a mere human, but he wasn’t getting anything else from her right now. Occasionally something could slip by him if it was trying, but he wasn’t getting any of that from her either.

“I keep telling her to keep her hands off my stuff,” he agreed, hoping there weren’t any wind spirits around to hear him. Or maybe he hoped there were. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging some more of the debris, but that was a happy accident. “Sure. Drink water out of a box, and then pour millions of dollars into corporations that are killing the planet. But as long as they can sleep at night.” His eyes flashed briefly silver with temper, but he was too tired to get properly worked up about it. Saving the earth was way above his pay grade, but he’d seen enough river spirits dying of pollution in this world to be testy about it.

“I don’t imagine she’d take kindly to that. You must find yourself losing things to a stiff breeze regularly,” she pointed out, her lips twitching in amusement. She’d met plenty of interesting people between traveling and her return to Fableton, and she’d learned there was a lot more to the world than most people knew. She watched things flutter out of his hair and raised an eyebrow, wondering just what he had gotten up to the night before. 

“Because the world runs on money these days, not the actual world. It’s fine, there’s others to colonize eventually,” she rolled her eyes at the very idea of it, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her head tipped as his eyes flash and curiosity took a deep root in her. “I’m Maia,” she finally decided to offer. Anyone who could get her snark out about the important stuff deserved at least that much from her. 

Mordred was well aware of his effect on humans, and it could go either way. Fae were pretty beyond all reason (or terrifying–it depended on the kind of fae), and he had enough mixed in with his human side to make him very easy on the eyes. It sometimes had the opposite effect though, as if people sensed there was something otherworldly about him and kept their distance. He caught her looking and grinned, his teeth just a little too sharp. “Do we care what people like?” Being wayward was far more fun.

“I was saving that for later.” He tucked the leaf into his pocket although he had absolutely no use for it. Plenty of things in the forest were useful for magic, but not everything. He yawned into the crook of his shoulder, squinting some from the sun, which seemed to be doing its level best to drive a spike through his head. “Awwh. Unhappy yuppy water. Of course that’s a real thing.” He rolled his eyes, taking another sip because it was better than a pounding headache. Maybe he could convince Morgana to mix him a hangover cure, but she’d probably just laugh at him.

Maia had never been one to hide her appreciation of someone’s appearance. She saw no reason to be, not really, because she preferred honesty when it was possible. She laughed, shaking her head, “No, not really. If they have a problem, that’s their problem, not mine.” She couldn’t do anything about what other people chose to think or to like or not like about her, she could only be herself and wouldn’t change that for anyone. 

“That’s why I gave it back. The wind might have stolen it,” she said, entirely cheeky and blatant with it. She’d slept her fair share of nights in the open after a good party, it was hard to avoid when you did it right. A snort of laughter escaped her and she nodded, “It is. Unhappy yuppy everything kind of abounds these days, really.” There was being good to the world around you and there was being a dick about being good. The first was awesome. The second was annoying. 

Weekends were such a human thing. They were always trapping themselves into schedules and obligations and ignoring the natural order of things. You didn’t find Fridays in nature. It was absurd. Mordred was too moody to be penned in even by his work schedule. He knew if it was going to rain or not, but the day of the week usually escaped him. Or the time of day. He’d had a late night of it with some fae in the woods, and nothing put you out like faerie wine. His human half was kicking itself through a nasty hangover.

When some noisy, smelly human machine nearby woke him, he stumbled out of the trees and staggered into the convenience store for a bottle of water. He ignored the looks he got, smeared in dirt and with leaves in his hair. They should thank their stars he still had his clothes on. Or, you know, not. That particular bit of luck depended on how you looked at it. "Oh, really? Are you always so obliging?“ She wasn’t actually in his way, so he didn’t care. He cracked open the bottle and took a long drink, gagging a little at the taste. "Ugh. Tastes like plastic.” Humans ruined everything.

As she properly looked up to see who had come close, she blinked before smiling slowly in absolute delight. Had she known where his thoughts were, she would have been firmly in the ‘not’ category. She had noted before the plethora of just ridiculously pretty people roaming Fableton these days and simply gave thanks to whatever in the universe had occurred to make it so. “No, not particularly. Only when I want to be, which is great for me and unfortunate for the people who don’t like that.” Standing up, she rested against the seat of her bike and looked him over properly before giving in.

Leaning forward, she plucked a leaf from his hair and tucked it between his hand and the bottle of water he held. “Should have gotten one of the recycled carton waters. Avoid the plastic taste, don’t taste metal, and you’re not adding to the landfill,” she pointed out as she leaned back. 

She paused at the store to grab herself water and snacks, packing them into her backpack that got strapped to the tail of her bike out on the curb. Singing to herself, she danced a little, the excitement already giving her an adrenaline rush. The only thing else she could have wanted was company, but that was normal for her. Seeing a shadow loom, which wasn’t hard considering her lack of height, she picked her head up, shaking her hair out of the way. “Sorry, I’ll be out of the way in a second.” 

“Then you’re shit outta luck, aren’t ya?” he snorted a laugh, tipping his head to exhale smoke. She wasn’t likely to find travel companions in Fableton, much as he would have jumped at the opportunity to leave.

She tipped her head and reached over to snatch his cigarette before taking a long drag. “Am I, though? I’m sure someone around here would love to get away.” She handed it back to him with a sly smile.

“I’ve been told it’s okay to talk to inanimate objects,” she began, strolling up to the woman, “as long as the objects don’t start talking back.”  It was a lame joke, but she figured it was a good way to break the ice.  “You thinking of making a run for it?  Or ‘ride’ for it, in your case.”

Maia laughed easily and shrugged, “Well, it hasn’t talked back yet, so I guess I’m good.” She sat up and shook back her hair as she looked at her, “Yeah, but it’s kind of always a back-burner thought, I guess. You ever thought about it?”