#laoft fic

So yeah, he hadn’t had much experience with a smaller get-together like this. Even if Thomas’s friends had tried to invite him to things before. Then again, it was a while before Logan felt like they were his friends as well.

Virgil had only recently joined them in social things, having been in his sleep spell for so long. Yet, Logan already felt his absence at this one. Virgil had cited something about dealing with annoying gentry all day. They drained his social battery. Logan had a feeling Patton had encouraged Virgil to take care of himself. Even if it seemed like he was more invincible as a fae. Virgil wasn’t quite yet very comfortable about groups of their friends anyways.

Logan thinks he didn’t like to intimidate people that his loves liked, even if it wasn’t on purpose.  Patton could have come, but he was tired as well. Logan had a feeling Virgil didn’t want their songbird to go out on his own when Virgil himself was drained. There were still fae tensions after all.

So Logan felt their absence, but at least he had Roman. Roman, who usually took to being the life of the party when among friends. Yet he wasn’t this time. They sat on the other side of the fire from where most of the group was. Roman was strangely quiet for some reason. Logan didn’t particularly mind. Yet given Roman’s usual nature, he wondered if he should ask his boyfriend about it.

Roman seemed strangely contemplative for some reason. He was staring at the fire. As Logan was working up the nerve to ask, Roman reached directly toward the fire. Logan’s instincts kicked in, immediately reacting to a threat to his love’s well-being. He reached to grab Roman’s arm, but Roman didn’t cry out when his hand hit the flames.

Logan was quickly reminded of Roman’s fire-proofness. Roman brought his hand back out, cupping a flame like he had scooped it out of the bonfire.  

“Whoa,” Roman breathed out. He pulled it more towards him.

“I knew I was fireproof, since learning I’m a witch. I’ve mainly used this with cooking, and haven’t tested it with actual fire.”

Logan knew it would be fine. But part of him wanted to protest that wasn’t the smartest way to test something so dangerous. Yet, he just kept staring at the cupped flames dancing in Roman’s hand.

They flickered back and forth, in the direction of the wind. As Roman held it closer, the little bit of light from it shone on Roman’s face. He looked…brilliant. Powerful. Logan almost thought he saw a flash of red in the flames as they danced in proximity to his love. Roman tilted his hand slightly from side to side. His fingers still cupped around the held flames.

Roman held his hand a bit further from himself before dipping one of his fingers into the little fire. He laughed a little when it lit the top of his finger on fire, like Roman himself was a candle. Yet didn’t burn. He was definitely playing with it now. Roman moved his fingers one by one into the little fire in his palm. He carefully moved his hand around without dropping the fire. Like he was mimicking the flames dancing around his hand.

Roman smiled down at it, pleased with himself.

“I wonder if Mamaw would have a problem with me messing around like this.”

The form of the flames kept changing, the way they do. They twisted around and flared a bit at the sides. Sometimes one spurt up a bit before the other motions continued. Roman’s movements imitated like he was controlling the fire, which in a way he was. Something felt so powerful about that image. Logan loved seeing Roman like this. The awe he showed at his own magical ability. Fire could be so strong. A burning heat whose destructive abilities were contained in one great witch’s hand.

Logan could keep watching the incredible ways Roman demonstrated this fire ability. Each lackadaisical show of his control over the fiery source drew Logan in to fall for the other even more. Something Logan would struggle to explain given how rational he thought he used to be.

Roman finally looked at Logan, the fire still in his hand.

“Specs?”

Logan looked up at him and blinked. It was hard not to be a little dazed when Roman was like this.

“What is it?” Roman asked.

Logan sighed. “You’re brilliant…,” He breathed out. Logan probably still looked a bit dreamy at Roman, but he couldn’t care in that moment. Roman smiled and shifted a little with a blush.

“Oh? Uh, I didn’t think magic tricks did the trick with you. After all, you can do much more impressive things-“

Logan shook his head a bit slowly. “No, it’s not just that. It’s because you’re the one doing it. You look so radiant…and wonderful…”

Roman made a choked noise and looked away, laughing a little.

“Oh, Specs…you sure know how to fluster a guy.”

“I only share what’s true.”

“Specs-“

And something must have come over Logan then. He found he had to lean over and kiss Roman. Roman’s mouth felt just as hot as the flame he had been holding a moment ago. Not in any way unpleasant though, exactly what he craved with Roman’s warmth right there in front of him. Roman made a surprised muffled sound before he groaned and kissed back enthusiastically. Two arms held Logan at the same time Logan reached more himself. Roman must have let the flame go, but that hand was still warm.

Something that made Logan shiver a bit. Roman laughed a bit into Logan’s mouth before he tilted his head and deepened the kiss more. Logan didn’t mind feeling hot here.

After a bit, a whistle startled them.

“Hey, before you two burn our eyes with such public indecency, had to tell you Remy says we’re doing smores soon.”

Roman looked at Kai with a scowl. “There was a whole fire separating us,” Roman said.

Kai rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. This ain’t that kind of party. Calm yourselves to get smores or get a room.” And with that, Kai marched back over to the rest of them. They sighed. Roman looked at Logan to check on him, the sweet guy he was. Logan took some deep breaths.

“Do you need a moment to cool down?” Roman asked.

Logan didn’t want to part from Roman in any way at that moment. But he didn’t think he could deal with the embarrassment of coming back over to his friends so passion ruffled.

“Uh,” His voice croaked, “I could use a cold water.”

Roman nodded and gently slide Logan back onto the log bench.

Kleinespinne shrunk back and shuffled a bit.

“I uh, I dunno…”

Adder hmphed.

“Oh, be nice Adder,” Virgil said. Adder scowled in response. What was his deal?

“That’s why we’re here anyways. So Kleinespinne can get the tarantula they want.”

Adder hmmed at that. Admittedly, Adder hadn’t been paying much attention to what they were doing. He was perhaps a bit too eager to go somewhere with his brother. He could have asked permission, but Virgil didn’t say he couldn’t come. This being a mission for the ‘other’ sibling gave Adder even more incentive to be there. Even if he couldn’t care less if this Kleinespinne got what they wanted. But Adder was loathe to let the other spend more time with just Virgil, without Adder.

Of course, he tried not to let his dislike of the other show since Virgil was a fan of them. It didn’t go too well for Adder last time he let that happen. Unfortunately, he suspected he was not very good at hiding it completely.

Adder could tell the others in the group were not thrilled that Adder didn’t glamour himself. Adder didn’t see why he should though. It didn’t matter here. Wasn’t the goal of this excursion to intimidate so they get what they want anyways? It was no matter.

Adder stuck his nose up. “Well, good. No one should get away with such disrespect.”

There was a lot of racket in the pet store. The enclosed space of a human building made everything seem louder, like an echo chamber. Adder scrunched his nose at some of the pet smells of unsophisticated creatures. He didn’t quite see the appeal of some of the animals up for adoption here. At least snakes knew how to clean up after themselves, and didn’t stink the way some furry vermin did.

Kleinespinne gasped and rushed over to the spider enclosures. Adder heard chuckles and mutterings among their group. Something about how ‘smitten the adorable baby gay’ was. Whatever that meant. Adder rolled his eyes and followed. Virgil watched Kleinespinne as they browsed the different tarantula choices. Honestly, humans took such work. The lengths they had to go to get a simple animal companion. It was much simpler in the forest where there was nothing that had to be bought the way they were with humans. 

Granted, Adder’s sisters came from magical gifting, but still. Adder was gentry, he got special privileges.

“Oh! This one is so cute,” Kleinespinne exclaimed. Adder scoffed.

“Cute is not a descriptor I think of when it comes to spiders. I hope you are not infantilizing such a majestic species.”

Kleinespinne’s face fell at Adder’s comment. Virgil gave Adder a look who tried not to meet his gaze. Instead, he looked at the specific creature the human set their sights on. Adder nodded.

“She does seem like a good one. Great warning colors to ensure protection from dangers.”

“I don’t want her to seem even scarier to my parents,” Kleinespinne said.

“Why does it matter? Vee is giving you the spider as a gift, no? They would be stupid to make any sort of fuss. My brother is much scarier of course, and the lord of the forest.”

Kleinespinne sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

“What else do you need for your new spider, baby gay?” The moonshine seller, with the sunglasses, asked.

Kleinespinne perked up again. “Oh,” They started listing supplies and such they would need.

Also, “Wait, so the spider will be staying in a small enclosure?”

“Yeah. There’s no way I could just let her roam around my house. It would give my parents a heart attack. Plus, I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.”

“Hm.”

“What are you gonna name her?” The female of the group asked.

Kleinespinne brightened, “Pumpkin!”

The moonshine seller smiled and started tapping on his mobile device.

“Oh, the group chat is gonna join us with cooing over this.”

Adder pursed his lips. He wasn’t one for cute. But he had to admit it was hard to hold onto his dislike of this human. Not that it mattered anyways.

They started gathering supplies. Again, Adder just kind of stood near them. It’s not like he was asked to help anyways.

“So, I think Snowmelt is going to meet us at Kleinespinne’s house. Then we will convince their family to let them keep Pumpkin,” Virgil said.

Adder nodded. “Good. Although, surely if they have any self-preservation instincts it won’t be much of a challenge. I’ll make it clear their safety is contingent on their agreeableness to this.”

“You’re not threatening them, Adder,” Virgil said. Adder felt a tug at that.

“Wasn’t that your plan anyways?” Adder asked.

“As you said, we shouldn’t need to.”

“It’s the principle of it though.”

You would think Adder would be better at listening now, all things considered.

The group stood in front of the house. Snowmelt was with them now, he smiled with a bit of exasperation, yet held a stack of papers. Adder didn’t know what that was about. They walked in.

“H-hey, mom and dad,” Kleinespinne said.

“Baby gay has a spider pet now,” the moonshine seller announced. Kleinespinne’s parents sputtered.

Virgil came in holding the tank with Pumpkin, a strategic choice surely.

“It’s a gift,” Virgil said. “Since they expressed a strong desire for a tarantula companion. I wanted to make them happy and express my gratitude for our friendship.” He then proceeded to walk in and set the tank with the spider in Elliot’s room. There was no other acknowledgment to the parents.

Adder couldn’t help himself and watched the human parents to see what gall they had. Their expressions were twisted up, clearly not pleased but not saying anything. Still, Adder felt unsatisfied without saying anything.

“I would fix your faces if I were you,” He said coldly. “You are lucky. Be glad for the spider prince’s attachment to your offspring. It is the only reason you remain standing here unharmed. The nerve you have to give such disrespect to his highness’s species. The young human expressed a wish for you to be spared, a sentiment which I assure you I do not share. Be grateful for the faery ruler’s kindness. I would not have granted you such myself.”

“Adder…” Virgil said as he left Elliot’s room. Adder hmphed and hissed at the human parents.

“I mean, it’s true. They should know such disrespect will never be approved under your rule.”

“Okay, I think it’s time to go.”

“Whatever, I’ve made my point.” He glanced one last time at the human parents, to see them both gaping in horror. Adder smiled to himself in satisfaction and walked out to wait for the others.

“Adder!”

Adder turned to see Kleinespinne going up to him.

“T- uh, I appreciate what you were trying to do in there for me,” They said.

Adder raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t for you.”

Kleinespinne half-smiled. “Yeah, I know. Still. I appreciate it anyways.”

Adder hmmed and nodded. “You’re welcome, I suppose.”

Kleinespinne went back inside. As the group began to leave, Virgil turned to his brother.

“See, Kleinespinne isn’t so bad.”

“I never said they were.”

Virgil smirked. “Yeah, I know.”

… gil…

Virgil…

Virgil’s eye shot open. He tensed, listening. Even before the casket, he’d never been a heavy sleeper, and he was sure he’d heard his name. The four of them were sleeping in his room in fairyland, Roman asleep against his chest, Patton curled against Virgil’s back with Logan cuddling him from behind. Suddenly needing to be touching them all, Virgil reached back and rested a light hand on Logan’s knee.

Logan stirred, but didn’t wake.

Roman, on the other hand, shifted and cracked an eye. “Babe?”

“Go back to slee—”

Virgil.

He shot up to a seat, dislodging Roman and waking the other two. Virgil searched the room. He couldn’t pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from.

“V?” Patton yawned, sitting up with Logan. “What’s wrong?”

Virgil! it called again, more insistent. The seeds of panic began rooting in his chest. Something was speaking to him—that, or he was going crazy. He couldn’t sense any being even remotely close enough to call out to him, and if he couldn’t sense them, they could sneak up on him. On his partners.

“You don’t hear that?” he whispered.

“I hear nothing, Virgil,” Logan said, placing a grounding hand on his shoulder.

Imperceptible movement in the corner. A frantic, miniscule scrabbling. Virgil grasped the one knife he kept on him while he slept, strapped against his stomach, and flung it into the shadows. It sunk into the wall with a solid thunk.

Careful, brother!

We did not want to wake you.

Did you hear?

She is here!

She is awake! his sisters clamored, the shifting from the dark corner taking a frantic edge. Squinting, he realized they were writhing in a giant, excited nest in the upper corner of the room. They must have snuck in while he slept. Thankfully, he hadn’t impaled any of them. Strange, though. The room was dark, even for him. He couldn’t quite make out the far edges of the bedroom.

“That can’t be good for the wall,” Roman chuckled.

Patton let out a loving sigh. “V, we talked about the knives…”

“Sleeping with blades is incredibly unsafe,” Logan said, “especially with the three of us so close together.”

Virgil cast a careful glance Patton’s way, praying he didn’t notice the wriggling mass of arachnids that he was sure would terrify him. Though, if it was dark enough to give him trouble seeing things, he doubted any of his partners would notice. Relaxing a few notches, Virgil ran a tired hand down his face.

“My sisters are excited about something,” he said. “I’m sorry for waking you all.”

Patton stiffened imperceptibly, casting a wary glance across the bedsheets. Logan cupped a comforting hand on the side of his neck.

“There is no need for an apology,” Logan said, still soft with sleep. Roman relaxed back into the bed, stretching in a way that made Virgil think twice about going to investigate the voice.

Get up, the voice said, more amused than snappish. Excited, even. Virgil startled, reaching instinctively for knives he didn’t have on him. Something tickled at the back of his mind. He knew that voice… but from where?

“Virgil?” Roman asked softly, brow furrowing.

“Stay here,” he muttered, extracting himself from the bed with inhuman grace.

The second his feet touched the floor, a buzzing power flooded his body. He flinched, gasping.

Hello, Virgil, that subsonic voice reverberated through his skull. Looking down, he saw a sea of familiar shadows carpeting the floor.

Mother. You’re speaking, he said lamely, too shocked for eloquence.

Indeed, she rumbled. The shadows were thicker and more corporeal than before, lapping at the feet of the bed like smoky waves. It would explain why his sisters were up on the wall instead of the floor. Yes, Mother had created them, but they didn’t quite have the constitutions to interact with her as directly as he did.

He’d noticed the steadily returning strength of the forest in general since his brother’s demise, but after the encounter they’d had in Roman’s living room, his mother hadn’t reached out… almost as if she’d wanted her return to be a surprise.

I haven’t harmed your loves again, have I? she asked, sensing his apprehension. She sounded more exasperated than apologetic.

No. They’re fine. Thank you for keeping your distance.

“Virgil?” Patton asked again, and Roman made like he was going to hop off the bed.

Virgil held out a hand, eyes going wide. “No, wait!” he hissed.

Roman froze. “Virgil, I’m serious. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he peered off the edge of the bed. A second of confusion before he muttered, “Ah.”

“My mother is in the room,” Virgil said, rapidly trying to think his way through the situation. He wasn’t keen on leaving his partners alone in fairyland, even if it was in his own quarters. However, if his mother was talking already, that meant she could probably hold a physical form as well, and there was no way Patton or Roman could stand her presence without permanent damage to their psyche. Logan, he wasn’t too sure about. Maybe.

His mother wasn’t simply fae. She was the mother of fear itself. The only thing his partners had encountered even remotely close to his mother’s physical form was the eldritch horror Greta had become—and they’d all seen the havoc it had wrought on mortal minds. They weren’t built for it.

Roman swallowed, leaning away from the edge of the bed. He hid his fear well, Virgil would give him that. Not that he particularly blamed him.

Patton, on the other hand, visibly paled. “Really?” he squeaked, pressing back against Logan. “Where? I don’t see anything.”

“I imagine that is the point,” Logan said, wrapping Patton protectively in his arms. He cast a glance at Virgil. “Your mother manifests primarily as shadow, yes?”

Virgil nodded. “I need to speak with her elsewhere. My sisters will… keep an eye out.”

Logan gripped the charm at his neck and nodded. “We will be fine, Virgil.”

Virgil managed a weak smile, then turned his attention to the ceiling where his sisters were spreading out, covering nearly every square inch. He so rarely saw all of them in one place—several groups often doing small reconnaissance missions around fairyland for him. It was the only way he was able to keep up with the ever-shifting moods of the court. Virgil sometimes forgot just how many of them there were.

“Stay off the bed,” he warned, pointing a finger.

Of course, brother!

We would not scare your dear ones!

Patton!

We love Patton!

We will keep them safe! they chorused.

Virgil cocked a dubious eyebrow, then turned, throwing the balcony doors open and hopping up onto the ledge.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Patton gave a nod and a smile.

The shadows in the room swirled with a sound like someone ripping away a tablecloth and converged on Virgil. Something in his mind clicked. The darkness hung about him like a cape, filling him with power, and he couldn’t help the echoing, inhuman laughter bubbling up his throat.

He caught a glimpse of Roman’s paling face. Logan’s mouth pulled down into the beginnings of concern, but it didn’t register.

Virgil tipped back off the balcony and disappeared with a flutter of fabric, the night itself enveloping him in a cool embrace.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Come on, Virgil. Faster. Faster!

They dashed through the deepest parts of the forest, the boundaries between their minds blurring and shifting. Trees the size of buildings towered above them. The air was alive with magic—or maybe that was simply his mother, expressing herself fully for the first time in centuries. He could practically taste it on his tongue, jaw-tingling and electrifying. The forest hummed with it.

Laughter, free and wild, pounded through his chest and Virgil wasn’t sure which of them it was. His heart hammered in his ribcage, fast enough to kill any mortal human. Electricity so hot it was cold crackled across his skin.

Mother, he managed through the frenzy, breathless. Mother, where are we going? He’d never seen her this excited. It was almost too much, even for him.

Home! she cried triumphantly.

For a split second, Virgil thought she meant the witch hazel, but they weren’t anywhere near it. At least, he was pretty sure they weren’t. If he recognized where they were, the power coursing through him kept his mind too out-of-focus to do so. Magic tore through him—too much for so small a vessel. If it went on much longer, Virgil thought he’d tear apart at the seams.

At last, they slowed to a stop just outside of a grassy clearing. Virgil’s breath caught at the sight. In the middle of the clearing, dwarfing even the monstrous trees of the surrounding forest, stood a glossy black tree—easily ten times taller than Wickhills’ quaint, steepled chapel. It looked like blown glass, with silver and gold veins twisting through its trunk and branches. The leaves, distant though they were, looked razor sharp. Like teeth, almost. Virgil felt small in a way he rarely did. In his mother’s absence, he’d grown used to being the scariest thing around. She, it seemed, was about to upend that notion.

The darkness slipped from Virgil’s shoulders and stole the air from his lungs. He stumbled against a tree, ears ringing. The darkness coalesced into an enormous, roiling mass of black that coiled around the base of the tree.

Watch, Mother said, and he could practically hear her smile.

Virgil coughed, tasting blood on his lips. Bringing up a trembling hand, he found his nose bleeding.

You’ve gone soft, his brother’s voice echoed in his ears and Virgil spit, wiping his face. True, the relative peace he’d established in the court meant he didn’t use his full power on any kind of regular basis, but his mother was undeniably stronger. That, or she’d simply been holding back all this time.

Virgil sank to a seat, sweat slicking his face and arms, watching with weary amazement as the sea of shadow shifted and folded in on itself. He was ready for the display to trigger thoughts of Greta, of the beast she’d become… but Mother was different. Terrifying, yes, but different. More in control.

I’m glad you’re back.

Me too, little one.

A lump formed in Virgil’s throat. It had been so long since anyone had called him that.

Eventually, the darkness took shape. Her head was the size of Logan’s house, impossibly black with galaxies for eyes and hair that undulated as if underwater. A sinuous neck led first to shoulders, then arms, hands, and fingers that had no definite tips and bled shadow. Her dark chest was bare, her stomach curved and soft like folds of black velvet. The of bottom half her body looked like those insects Logan had shown him—millipedes. Dozens of legs lined a plated, serpentine body, but the legs arched up at sharp angles like a spider’s. Shadows licked up off of her entire body like dark ribbons of flame, distorting any solid edges.

“Hmmm,” she hummed, lifting a hand to feel the vibrations of her throat. Virgil felt it through his entire body. “Interesting. It's been a while since I’ve had a mouth.” She laughed, and the clearing rumbled.

You were born here? Virgil asked, sure if he spoke aloud she wouldn’t be able to hear him.

“In a sense. This is where I began. I do not have a mother in the same way that I am yours. Something before me must have left—or died—and I simply filled the emptiness,” she explained. “The world likes balance.” She moved to lie on her stomach, resting her head on her hands. If Virgil stood, his head would only just pass the crest of her upper lip.

Her massive eyes widened. “You are bleeding, little one.”

“Yes,” he croaked, now that she was close enough to hear.

Mother was silent for a moment, before asking, “Did I do that?”

“You didn’t know,” he said. Her eyes narrowed at the indirect answer.

“I am sorry,” she murmured, her cool breath washing over him like a pleasant breeze. “My excitement got the better of me. Come,” she said, rising up to a sort of seat with her insectoid body coiled beneath her. Virgil grunted and rose to his feet. He felt sore all over, like he’d fought an entire army single-handed. His nose still hadn’t stopped bleeding. Patton would have a fit when he saw the crimson stains littering the front of his sleep shirt.

Mother cupped her two hands together and deftly scooped him up off the ground. That same buzz of power filled him, but slower this time, seeping into him like the warmth of a bath. The pain melted away. She couldn’t heal like he and Logan could—again, she wasn’t fae, at least in the sense that Virgil was. The lack of a permanent physical body meant she had no need for healing powers. When they parted, he’d likely feel like he’d been run over, but for now, Mother did what she could.

She lifted him to her shoulder, hands perfectly steady beneath him. Virgil sat, feet resting just above her collarbone.

He laughed.

“What is it, little one?” Mother asked, gazing up at the stars.

“I wonder if this is what my sisters feel like around me.”

A chuckle rumbled through his mother, deep and sonorous. “Indeed.”

“What will you do, now that you are back to your full strength?”

“The same things I’ve always done, I suppose,” she said, a smile splitting across her face. “Watch over the forest. Over you and those loves of yours.” Then she paused, as if considering something. “Dorothy Marie Galloway Sanders.”

Virgil stiffened at the full name. She hadn’t called her Dot, so he was fairly certain it wasn’t her true name, but still. It sounded awfully close.

“She is mother to one of your darlings, yes?”

“Why do you ask?” Virgil said carefully.

“Have you ever wished for a mother like that?”

Virgil’s throat went dry. “That answer is quite complicated.”

“I thought so,” she said, her smile fading into resignation.

Virgil remembered the first time he saw Dot gather an upset Logan in her arms, rocking him gently. The sudden, gut-punching longing had taken Virgil by surprise. When May ruffled his hair or patted his shoulder, it took everything in him not to hold on, to ask for… for what? More love? He had love. Inordinate amounts of it. His wonderful partners loved him. Greta had loved him, and Trudi. His sisters loved him. He shouldn’t need any more. It would be… greedy.

“You told me you were lonely,” she said, “back when you were so very young. I didn’t understand that I could have filled that role much better than your brother did. I figured you two would be fine, especially after I’d made your sisters, so I left you to run things and by the time I realized how wrong I’d been, my power was waning and you were…”

“You did not put me in that casket,” he croaked.

“My negligence might as well have.”

Virgil’s vision blurred with tears that he tried to swallow back. “I don’t blame you, Mother.”

She glanced down at him. “You cannot lie, yet fear fills your words, little one.”

He let out a shaky exhale. “I simply fear losing you, as I fear losing everything as I once had,” he admitted, then, in a voice so quiet and small he felt like a child again, he said, “Please don’t leave me.”

Mother scooped him up in her hands once more, bringing him level with her eyes. She rested her thumb against his chest, the weight comforting and probably the closest he’d get to an actual hug.

“Never again, little one.”

His breath hitched, and the tears finally spilled over.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mother delivered Virgil back to the fairy hill just before dawn. Alighting on the balcony’s edge without a sound, the shapeless mass of shadow retreated from around him.

Goodnight, little one.

Goodnight, mother, he replied, face still tacky from crying. The moment she departed, pain and heaviness slammed back into him. Fresh blood trickled from his nose and his vision swam. Thankfully, he stumbled forward, instead of pitching backward off the edge of the balcony.

Virgil stumbled like a drunk through the balcony doors. Logan, who sat perfectly still against the headboard reading a book, looked up and all the blood drained from his face. He shook Patton and Roman awake. They all shot to their feet, Patton getting a little tangled in the blankets on the way.

“Virgil?!”

“V, oh my goodness—”

“—what happened? I thought you said—”

Brother!

Brother is hurt!

What happened, brother?

We will avenge you! his sisters shrieked. Exhaustion, and pain, and the overall emotional rawness from his exchange with his mother riddled Virgil’s mind, turning everything into a muddled soup of noise. He staggered forward, catching himself on the rim of the sink-like basin of water against the wall—enchanted to stay clean and filled no matter what.

They just kept talking. So much was happening at once. A hand rested against his back, and he flinched so violently his grip cracked the rim of the basin. “Don’t—” he snapped before he could bite his tongue, and the hand retracted instantly. Even his sisters went silent. Virgil took a breath, running his hands through his sweat-matted hair. “Sorry,” he muttered, unsure if he’d be sick or not. “It’s that… overload thing.”

“What do you need, Virgil?” Logan asked, voice carefully calm despite the blood drying on Virgil’s face and hands.

“Quiet,” he sighed. “Just for a minute.”

They must have nodded. Virgil heard them retreating to the bed. After a few more steadying breaths, he began to wash his hands, the water turning pink for only a second before the enchantment purified it again. He cleaned his face and pulled the stained shirt up over his head, tossing it to the floor. He was too tired to care.

Stumbling to the bed, he caught himself on the bedpost, Roman instantly beneath his other arm, supporting his weight. Virgil collapsed onto the bed, groaning both in relief and pain. It was as if he’d pulled every muscle in his body. Eventually, his own magic would heal him, but that would take hours. He rolled to his back, cracking open one eye and shooting a weary but genuine smile at his three partners.

“Get in here,” he chuckled. They all collectively relaxed, Patton even letting out a relieved sigh. Logan rounded the bed to claim Virgil’s other side.

“Gently, gently,” he cautioned as they maneuvered closer to him. Patton curled up at his side, sandwiched between him and Roman. Virgil rested his arm across Patton’s shoulder and ran his fingers through Roman’s hair. Logan pressed firmly against Virgil’s opposite side, fidgeting gently with the ends of Virgil’s hair.

“What happened?” Patton asked, looking up at Virgil with those beautiful golden eyes so full of worry. “I thought you were with your mother.”

“I was,” Virgil said.

Roman went impossibly still. “Did she do this?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“She did not hurt me intentionally,” he said, resting his hand on Roman’s cheek, “simply got over-excited.”

Roman gripped his hand back tight, looking anything but comforted. Virgil forced himself not to wince.

“Roman, look at me,” he said, rising up on an elbow despite the protest of his ribs and shoulders. “My mother has never intentionally hurt me, has never made the same mistake twice, and always apologizes. She’s just… complicated and doesn’t understand the fragility of smaller beings very well.”

“I remember,” Logan muttered into Virgil’s shoulder.

“She sounds a bit like me,” Patton whispered, hand splayed across Virgil’s stomach, dipping up and down with his every breath. “You know, back before I could control my voice.”

Virgil pressed a kiss to Patton’s temple. “Yeah, it’s a bit like that.”

“All right,” Roman said, though he didn’t release Virgil’s hand completely.

He relaxed onto his back once more, closing his eyes. The pain was fading to the back of his mind—still there, but muted.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Roman said, turning Virgil’s hand over and tracing the lines of his palm.

Logan’s thumb brushed his face. “Have you been crying, dear?”

Virgil swallowed, opening his eyes again. “My mother and I had a long overdue conversation.”

“Good or bad?” Patton asked hesitantly.

Virgil considered for a moment. “Good, I think?”

“You think?” Roman asked.

He took a breath. “It… hurt, talking about things I’d never voiced before, but I’m glad I did. Things between us are better because of it.”

“In that case, I am very proud of you,” Logan mumbled into his shoulder, and Virgil relaxed. He was comfortable, and so very tired.

She remembers holding a baby to her chest, and laying him down as soft as she could.  She couldn’t hold him anymore. She was not strong enough.

But a mortal?

She could protect a mortal. She could keep him young.

And if he closed his eyes, and hid his ears, she could almost pretend her baby was home.

-

He was gone.

The foolish woman walked straight into her home, and took her baby.  She had her replacement, could she not be placated with that? Could she not understand that she had her responsibility, her Leith, and Eirwen would protect her son? This was a trade, and in Eirwen’s opinion, a pretty damn fair one.

Couldn’t they protect each other’s sons? Could Eirwen not have a baby to heal her broken heart?

She watched the mortal babe and her precious Seelie be taken as she laid shattered on the ground.

-

Eirwen watched from afar.  She convinced herself that she would storm in and take what was hers and leave the mortal woman aching as much as she did (every day she would look to the cradle in the corner of her room and broke all over again), but she couldn’t get further than the edge of the forest before she cracked and ran back to her home, checking over her shoulder at every step.

But as much pain as it caused her, she continued to look after her boys (her boys, she decided.  If she was willing to die for their safety, she determined that they were hers).  She peered out from the edges of the forest and watched as they frolicked and jumped and learned and grew.  

Years seemed meaningless to her, but she would never be able to speak aloud that she wasn’t affected by watching the mortal and her son grow inch after inch.

She could have kept him young.

  -

She meets the godmother years after she lost her child.  Eirwen saw the pathetic Winter skirting around revels, but rarely deigned to introduce herself.  She had climbed the ladder to make it to where she was, couldn’t that White do the same?

Until she heard of what White had endured.

All of a sudden, she saw herself in the faery that limped around the woods, too terrified to step into the light, lest the Serpent King swoop in with his malicious grin that terrified even the strongest Unseelie. (Eirwen remembered the Spider Prince and thought with melancholic disdain that he would not have forced her to give up her precious Leith, and quickly silenced the thought.  No quicker way to die than to mention the Spider Prince in the King’s presence.)

She sought out White one cold March morning, with the phantom weight of a baby in her arms heavy against her chest.

White did not speak.

Eirwen went day after day, and the godmother said nothing.  After a bout of rage that near sent Eirwen to throttle the weak Winter, something happened.

White moved quietly along the floor of the forest, a silent invitation for Eirwen to follow her.  They walked for ages, until White stopped, and pointed to a farm laying before them.  There, at a pond, sat the precious children.  Her Leith knocking his small fingers (oh what she wouldn’t give to hold those hands once more-) against the wood of the small dock, while the other child, White’s, presumably, watched in awe.

They ached together for their children.

-

She watched as her son broke down.  She did not understand.  She wanted him home, couldn’t he see that?

But no, he couldn’t.  Because they had never spoken.

He made that clear.

 “You are not my mother!”

-

She would die, wouldn’t she.

She would die for her son, the son who hated her with his whole being, and she would do it gladly.

The Serpent King would not take kind to her meddling.  White had warned her, but she took her chances.

She only hoped he remembered her and her sacrifice.