the roots of something greener (1)
G/T July Day 9: Rainy Day
patreon prompt: kid logan trying to make a deal with fae janus for nyn! hope you enjoy :)
warnings: magical deals, threats, unwilling transformation, implied parental neglect, mentions of starvation and abandonment
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The first time the child found him, Janus was already in a foul mood.
The day had started out with a light drizzle, and as the hours crept by, it had slowly grown into a far more irritating downpour.
This wouldnât have been anything near a problem for most fae, and certainly a meager handful of years ago, Janus would have hardly spared it a fleeting thought. Even if he didnât care to waste any magic on a simple repelling spell, he could have simply slipped between realms, abandoning that particular stretch of human land until the storm passed.
Now that he was banished and bound, however, his options were far more limited.
There would be no leaving the human realm, not until his time was served. His sentence wasnât so harsh as to confine him to a single circle, but being able to jump between this and that ring of mushrooms didnât help him much when the rainfall was present over the entire forest.
He grit his teeth as a stray drop managed to make it through the leaves above him, the thickest canopy he could find over one of his rings.
Though it was only a single raindrop, it drenched his head and shoulders with ease. His form in mortal realm was limited by the space he was allowed, and the only proper faery rings within these woods were barely large enough for a human to step a single foot into.
He wasnât sure if only being able to manifest at the same size as a childâs doll was an intentional part of his punishment, or merely a bonus. Either way, it was certainly humiliating enough for him to resent it.
It was in this soaked, resentful mood that he heard the distinct pattern of human footsteps, leaves and other detritus crunching rhythmically underfoot.
âWhat curious timing,â he muttered irritatedly to himself, turning to face the intruder with a smile that was almost certainly a little too sharp for human tastes.
⊠And then promptly lowered his expectant gaze a foot or two, because the human approaching him was unquestionably a mere child.
Young, likely barely a decade old, and with the thickest, blockiest pair of spectacles Janus had seen in ages. While the child wasnât dressed for the weather, he was carefully holding a deep blue umbrella over his head as he picked his way over the muddy forest floor.
The little thing froze for a moment at the sight of him, and for a moment Janus thought perhaps this was some unwise youth that had wandered off from his parents, with no idea what was before him.
Then, he straightened up formally, eyes glinting with excitement, and it became clear that the child knew exactly what Janus was, and likely thought he knew exactly what he was getting into, as well.
(Part of Janus was admittedly relieved. Being locked out of his home realm meant there was no easy defense against humans who stepped into the space of the ring, and he really wasnât in the mood to dodge the grasping fingers of a toddler who thought him a toy.)
âSalutations,â the child greeted belatedly, quickly reaching up to adjust his rain-splattered glasses with his free hand. The umbrella drooped slightly without the support of both of those undersized arms. âIâm searching for the, um, the fair folk of this wood. Iâd like to make a deal.â
How bold, to open with such an attention-grabbing phrase. Janus reclined back slightly, attempting to look regal even with his hair plastered in wet strands across his face. âWell, now. Isnât it good manners to introduce yourself before making requests of strangers?â
The childâs face pinched slightly, but heâd clearly done at least some research. âYou may call me Logic.â
Janus hummed. âWell met, Logic. I go by Deceit.â
âDeceit?â Logic echoed with a frown. âI thought fair folk werenât able to lie.â
âTheyâre not,â Janus agreed pleasantly, some of his humor returning to him at the usage of a familiar bit.
For all his flaws, none of the humans heâd tricked over the years could claim they hadnât been warned from the start.
âThen why,â Logic started, before shaking his head firmly, dismissing the line of questioning in favor of his original goal. Whatever had brought him here, it was clearly important to him.
It always was, when they were willing to make a deal for it.
âIâd like to make a deal,â he repeated, setting his shoulders and stiffening his posture. âI want to learn how to use magic.â
Janus refrained from letting the derisive edge sneak into his smile. âAnd what could you possibly have to offer in return for that?â
âI can offer you equal knowledge in exchange,â Logic responded, wearing a very serious expression that looked quite amusing on such a young face. âI may be young, but youâll find that Iâm very good at researching.â
The offer was exactly what he should have expected from a human child, especially one that had never dealt with the fae before. It was likely that his little research hobby was the only reason heâd learned enough to make it this far.
âMy, you certainly have a lot of confidence in the value of knowledge, donât you?â Janus mused, distantly glad that it was him that the child had chosen to annoy with this, rather than a more power-hungry sort. âVery well, I accept the terms of your deal.â
He held out a hand, and almost immediately regretted it. Heâd forgotten how easily dwarfed he was, like this.
When Logic reached out, however, it was with a slow and careful hand, his face scrunched up intently as he used two fingers to emulate a handshake. There was no pinching pressure or crushing grip, only the distinct warmth of human contact and the slight electric spark of the deal being sealed.
It almost made Janus feel bad for what he was about to do.
âYour first lesson,â he announced, pulling his hand back and flexing his fingers absently, âis to never make such open-ended deals with fae.â
Logic recoiled slightly, looking slightly bewildered, and Janus forced his smile into something crueler as the sting of magic grew sharper.
âAn offer of any knowledge I please, so long as itâs of equal value? You havenât even clarified which kind of magic youâre so desperate to learn.â Janus leaned forward slightly, wrapping his hand around the invisible cord of the deal. âI could request your name, control over the very essence of your being, and all I would be required to do in exchange would be provide you with instruction on magic of suitable power. Your terms are exploitable, little one.â
He let the implied threat linger, watching as the implications sunk in and the childâs worry began to turn to fear. The sight of it was a sour curl in his gut, but this was a lesson better learned here and now, rather than later and with more permanent consequences.
âOf course, I have no particular desire to teach you any magic at all, let alone the complexities of magic strong enough to be equivalent to a name.â Janus slowly released all but the tiniest sliver of the potential the deal held. âHm. I think a demonstration of simple magic will do, to satisfy both your curiosity and mine.â
Transformation spells were painful and slow when cast a certain way, a fact that many of his kin had taken advantage of when dealing with humans. Janus kept the magic brief and painless, because for all his flaws, enjoying the needless suffering of a child was not one of them.
With a snap of his fingers, the childâs form shifted to something more thematically appropriate.
The umbrella clattered to the ground, catching on the breeze and skittering a few feet away from the kitten that now sat on the ground before him, blinking in disorientation.
âConsider our bargain complete,â Janus informed the kid, finally able to speak to him at eye level. âAs the last tidbit of magical knowledge Iâll impart, have this: recognition is the key to returning you to your true form.â
Looking as though he was composed of more fluff than flesh, Logic let out a tiny, confused meow. His eyes were surrounded by distinctive, blocky markings, the spitting image of the chunky square glasses that he wore as a human. It was the easiest possible condition Janus had ever set; it was near-impossible to look at the kitten and not see the resemblance.
With a flick of his hand, the kitten was whisked to the edge of the woods that heâd entered from, where there was surely a guardian nearby to find him and undo the minor curse before the sun had set.
With any luck, the experience would scare the kid off from any further attempts at playing with magic he didnât understand.
Job done, Janus glanced at the abandoned umbrella, lying far out of reach of his undersized mushroom ring, and then turned away with a sigh.
What a waste.
â
Janus hadnât been one to keep track of the time, before, but that may have simply been because time was much less linear in the faerie realm. The length between one moment and the next could be stretched or squashed, and so time tended to be more of a feeling than a fact.
In the human realm, things were much simpler. The sun rose and fell and rose again, and that was a day, every time without fail. He could hardly lose track of something like that.
As such, Janus knew that two full days had passed when he next saw Logic.
Logic, not the child, because he was still, inexplicably, in the form of that tiny, barely-weaned kitten.
It had been sheer luck that Janus spotted him; heâd been moving between one ring and the next throughout the day, absently looking for any stray detritus that had fallen close enough to his ring to be tugged fully inside. Any shelter made from such impermanent materials was destined to be temporary, but Janus was tired of the chill, and willing to take any reprieve from the elements he was offered.
Looking at the soggy little beast that was crouched a few meters away, Janus felt an odd sense of guilt crop up within him. Clearly, he wasnât the only one who had been enduring the weather.
Fur matted and damp from the on and off rain that had plagued the area, body trembling from cold or hunger or a combination of the two, Logic looked like the definition of pitiful.
And why wouldnât he? For all intents and purposes, the child apparently spent the last couple of days trapped in an unfamiliar body and stuck in a hostile environment, with no aid to be found.
⊠Why hadnât someone recognized him? For that matter, why werenât there humans traipsing about through the trees in search of a missing child?
Logic sneezed miserably, interrupting what seemed to be an attempt to use his new, keener nose to track down a meal. His tiny ears angled back in a distinctly feline form of frustration, a gesture that would have undoubtedly been cuter if he hadnât been so visibly on the brink of starving.
Well. Janus wouldnât get his answers if he just left the child there, would he?
âI know you, child,â he said, voice carrying enough to make the kittenâs head snap around toward him. âI didnât expect you to still be scurrying about like this. Why in the world would you not simply go home?â
Acknowledging his true form did the trick. The spell unraveled like heâd pulled on a loose thread in a knit blanket, the magic falling away with ease and leaving the child in his oversized spectacles sitting there in the dew-dappled grass.
For a moment, he remained like that, folded over on himself like a baby deer laying still and hoping that predatorsâ eyes would skip over him.
Janus met his gaze and raised a prompting eyebrow, waiting for an explanation on how such a simple curse had gone so wrong that the fae who laid it, of all people, had to be the one to free him from it.
In the next second, Logic had sprung to his feet and bolted. His steps were wobbly and likely fueled by panic alone, but adrenaline was undeniably effective in getting him very far away, very quickly.
âRude,â Janus muttered to the empty air heâd left behind, and then followed the kid as far as he could manage through his rings, making certain this time that heâd actually left the forest behind.
There still wasnât a single other human around, let alone one that appeared to be looking for something as valuable as lost offspring. Janus tried not to let the information grate against his scales, with only mild success.
In the end, he still wouldnât get his answers. It didnât matter. The child had clearly been scared off for good, so there was no use pursuing the issue further.
He shouldnât dwell on things he couldnât change, anyhow.
â
The third time Janus encountered Logic, the child found him first.
It was another overcast day, with a light sprinkling of rain that was certain to become something miserably damp within an hour or two.
He hadnât expected any more visitors, and certainly not any that would make it to one of his rings and lurk there, so heâd been more puzzled by the relative dryness of the leaves beneath his feet. In fact, he hadnât realized anyone was near, let alone guessed just who was sitting at the edge of the faerie circle until a tiny, presumptuous throat cleared.
(Such obliviousness was out of character for him. If the kid had been a snake, he could have bit Janus.
Good thing heâd picked a kitten before, instead.
Even if those, too, had fangs of their own.)
Logic waved a hand, showing no signs of his previous panicked flightâ except there was a slightly harder set to his shoulders, Janus noticed, like he was preparing for a difficult fight.
Heâd brought a bag with him this time. It was partially open, and Janus easily made the connection between the spare pieces spilling from it and the plastic canopy that had been painstakingly assembled over his mushroom ring. Large and durable, it was currently diverting the rain away from Janusâs circle with streamlined ease.
âHello, Deceit,â the kid greeted. âIâm back for my next lesson.â
Between them, the deal rekindled, sparking dull embers back to life at Logicâs willful insistence. With a willingness to keep providing knowledge, he could theoretically continue to learn for as many lessons as he paid the dues for. It was one of the many loopholes that were applicable to such open-ended deals, but Janus certainly hadnât anticipated the child using it against him.
How interesting. It seemed there were still things an ages-old fae couldnât predict, after all.
From beneath the comfortable shelter of an oversized dollhouse gazebo, Janus tipped his head back and laughed.
