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“If fear ever strikes through you, remember, your sacrifice is an honour for all of us,” his mother had whispered as she combed his hair back, her soft-spoken words doing nothing to mask her misery.
He’d heard all of it in the late hours following his selection; the village elders determined that the Drake’s only child would be a noble sacrifice. The arguing between his parents while they weighed the merits of the treasonous conspiracy his mother had mulled over.
However, they had no choice, not if they wanted peace. His father had sighed that they couldn’t subject themselves to a lifetime on the run, that the burning smell of flesh when a family had tried to protect their child still lingered in his memory despite being no older than seven when the incident occurred.
The poor harvest several moons ago had been the first sign the Fae were displeased with the last sacrifice, Arabella Grindall, the fourth daughter of a poor family who lived on the outskirts of the village.
Someone of little consequence, whose parents would graciously hand over for the sake of the village.
It was the natural order of things after all.
But the poor harvest followed by the fire that swallowed up the Cuthbertsons’ home could only mean one thing in the eyes of the village elders. That a daughter from a large family, who couldn’t afford to feed themselves over winter, wasn’t enough for the creatures of the neighbouring forest.
Least of all the Fae King, who had protected their village for generations. A King who only asked for one body a year. One virgin and they’d be blessed with fortune.
And the family that handed their child over for the ritual would be rewarded handsomely.
An honour.
His death was an honour, even if any sense of pride was stripped away the moment the blindfold covered his eyes, the elders whispering that their lamb mustn’t cower, his blood couldn’t be tainted by the foolish fears of youth.
Not if the village was to be honoured once more.
It was why they went to such lengths to ensure he was adequately prepared; not a single detail of the ceremony could be disrupted, which was why they shielded the women and the children of the village from it.
A crying babe distracting the elders from their centuries-old process might anger the Fae, not that they would know if the ritual had to be started over once more.
Which left Tim at the mercy of the silent onlookers, who wouldn’t put a stop to it even if their sensibilities told them otherwise.
From what his father had said as his parents attempted to prepare him, there wasn’t much of anything to be seen, merely an inspection and then a bath before he’d be taken into the woods.
As he’d stepped behind the curtain moments before the blindfold had obscured his vision, he realised one thing.
Jack Drake couldn’t have known that the scalding water left his skin feeling impossibly raw, or known about the knife that cut along the arch of his foot, slicing through the skin while an elder’s hand clamped over the blindfolded boy’s mouth, muffling any sound that threatened to spill from his lips.
He also couldn’t have known about the symbols that were painted on his chest and abdomen as the elders said their prayers, begging for fortune to return to their great village once more.
They’d dressed him in loose clothing and carried him to the ceremonial palanquin. Tim had seen it parading through the streets from the window of his home for as long as he could remember, only ever containing that year’s sacrifice and a few comforts to ensure fear didn’t strike through them.
Not that they minded, he couldn’t possibly walk the journey into the woods after they’d cut him.
The comforts hadn’t done much to settle Tim’s nerves, his fingers brushing along the furs, attempting to ascertain how close he’d been placed to the edge of the vehicle, hoping that his knuckles might knock against the oak walls.
Hours seemed to pass, and Tim found his resolve waning, a small voice at the back of his mind threatening to beg them to put a stop to this nonsense. To cry out that he would not play any further part in their schemes.
They’d laugh at him, he was sure of it. He’d heard one of the elders dismiss his mother’s appeal that they shouldn’t be forced to give up their only child with a haughty remark that she was still of childbearing age and she’d been selfish for far too long denying her husband a second son.
All they cared for was their ritual and the fortune they were convinced would be thrust upon them if they offered up the right sacrifice.
If he spoke out, there’d be cloth tied around his mouth to match the cloth obscuring his vision.
And so Tim didn’t make a sound, not even as the rope bound his hands together, hoisting him into the air until even his toes didn’t scrape against the ground. From there, his legs were bound together, his ankles forced together by a vicious grip that made Tim instinctively kick out.
Any fight quickly left him as his knees were brought up and the ropes were wound around his legs until he was contorted into a seated position.
He should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it, but as the hands left his body, Tim heard himself breathe out a soft, “Finally, peace.” He didn’t know how the thought came to him, let alone why he dared to say the words, there’d been no sounds to indicate they’d left him.
They hadn’t even released him for more than a few seconds, and yet he’d spoken out of turn, perhaps gone as far as to interrupt their process, something he was sure his parents would be informed of if only to upset his mother.
The hands never returned to his body, however, after what couldn’t have been more than a minute later Tim felt his legs pulled further into the air, his trouser leg getting caught on a branch and tearing into the fabric as they secured him in place, leaving his head as the closest thing to the forest floor while he undoubtedly hung several feet in the air.
For a moment, time seemed to stop, neither the noises of the forest nor the village elders reaching Tim’s ears until he heard one of the men declaring that they’d offered up a more than satisfactory lamb, the others offering a grunt or two in agreement before the party left him.
Tim closed his eyes under the blindfold, stretching his fingers out once he was sure he was alone, feeling for the bindings only for his fingertips to brush against the branch above him, shards of bark falling onto him in the process.
He continued to move his fingers, feeling along the rope until he found the knot on the inside of his wrist, pulled together so tightly that he couldn’t so much as hook his fingernails under it.
What would he do if he got his hands untied anyway? At best, he’d be able to grab the branch above him before gravity left him upside down, and that wouldn’t improve his situation if he couldn’t reach his legs.
No, he was quite stuck.
And then there was his foot, on the one occasion since they sliced through the skin that they’d had him stand unsupported, he’d stood on the opposite, putting the slightest amount of pressure on the outside of it, only so that he could keep his balance.
There was no escape, which meant he had to wait.
Whether it was for the Fae or a hunting party who might pity his predicament and cut him down.
The Fae… Heavens knew what would be in store for him if they found him, although he doubted it would be as simple as taking his life as a ritualistic sacrifice.
They existed, he knew that much to be as fact, even if his parents’ faith in the notion had been shaken long before his selection. The forest held many fantastical creatures, and there’d been a time in his youth when he’d been bold enough to enter the woodlands, if only to prove that he wasn’t scared of what lurked in the shadows.
It wasn’t that he’d seen one in the few hours he’d allowed himself to spend in the forest in the spring before his ninth birthday but he’d felt one of them, a guiding hand on his shoulder for just a moment and when a beast had snarled at him, its golden eyes shifting as if it was about to pounce he’d been lifted from the ground and into the trees.
The being had kept a tight hold on him, kept his head turned away with a hand that now felt more like a talon, the claws biting into his skin, but not drawing blood.
And as the sky turned red as the sun set, he’d been returned to the edge of the forest and pushed into the clearing where the other children had gathered, arguing as to whether they should venture in or alert an adult.
He told the others he hadn’t seen anything, explaining that he’d simply gotten lost. It hadn’t been an untrue statement, and was far more believable than a creature pulling him into the trees, keeping him safe from a beast he’d been unable to identify.
If he was lucky, the same Fae would find him, would recognise something in him and decide he was worth more than a simple blood sacrifice.
All he had was hope.
Days seemed to pass, Tim couldn’t be sure, but what he did know is the sounds of the forest seemed to change in a cycle.
Birds would chirp for what must have been a few hours before it would get quiet again, and then there’d be what must have been woodland creatures, small animals moving through the area, stirring up the leaves on the forest floor before it would be quiet again.
And then there were the owls. The soft hoots that scratched at something in Tim’s brain, accompanied by high-pitched screeches and chirps.
Bats, at least that had been what one of the farmers had said when he’d asked what was making such a horrible noise as a child. They’d come at the tail end of an unusually warm spring and left shortly after the fall harvest that year, only to return three years later.
They’d proven to be a nuisance some years, damaging the orchards and leaving their droppings across the village. All those years of finding them to be a pain, and now Tim couldn’t help but consider them a blessing.
The screeches that seemed to signal dusk was upon him.
Four days by his estimation, his shoulders, which had started to ache within minutes of the elders leaving him, switched between a burning pain and a cold numbness that left Tim unable to adjust himself to find a more comfortable position.
Not that any shift offered any comfort.
The elders had ensured he’d have no relief, although he doubted they believed it would take the better part of a week for the Fae to come across him. Not if they truly believed in their own rituals.
Maybe that was why his breathing stilled as a hand ghosted across the back of his neck, nails as sharp as thorns offering an odd sense of relief to an itch he hadn’t realised needed scratching.
A second hand followed the first, parting the front of his shirt, two fingers brushing across his chest.
Lingering, before it retracted, leaving just the hand cradling the back of his neck. “Curious,” the owner of the hands whispered.
An unfamiliar voice, no better than one of the elders returning to check on his state.
Except the elders wouldn’t have dared to remove the blindfold.
If he considered it, they wouldn’t have dared to touch him out of fear of disturbing the ritual; finding a heartbeat hardly mattered if they could see the movement in his chest as he breathed.
Except the owner of the voice, of those sharp nails, carefully pushed the blindfold off his eyes. The low light as dusk turned into night dulled the shock as he opened his eyes, his vision blurring as he gazed up at the figure in front of him.
“Oh,” Tim heard himself say as he managed to focus on the other, a soft light catching on a spider’s web, on bone-like branches sticking out of the curls on the other’s head.
Not branches, antlers.
“You have spiders in your antlers,” he mumbled, the few words he managed to get out leaving him feeling lightheaded.
Perhaps he’d been left hanging for too long.
“And one has made its home on your face.” The creature rewarded Tim with a small smile, the hand cradling his neck tipping his head up, the change in angle offering a sliver of relief while alerting Tim to the agony across his shoulders and back. “Don’t move, little one.”
Little one?
He was slender for his age, and slightly short in stature; he could own to that, but Tim would never have considered himself to be little. There were plenty in his village smaller than him, men and women alike.
He stood over an inch taller than his mother after all.
Only the creatures of the forest would think he was…
The Fae, of course, how could his senses be so dulled that he couldn’t recognise the being in front of him as one of them? No human had antlers protruding from their head, and no beast had the face of a man.
“Are you… A-Are you him?” Tim stammered as the other’s free hand carded across his cheek, brushing away the spider’s web.
The question went unanswered, a question that he’d wondered whether he’d ever have gotten an answer to, ever since he was a child. It couldn’t be, the Fae who’d plucked him from the forest floor as a boy had been capable of flight.
They hadn’t leapt into the trees but instead flown through the air. Which meant there was more than one.
The village had always referred to the Fae as one singular being, an unblemished king ruling over his domain, playing games with the village’s fate.
Blessing them if the sacrifice was enough.
Only the being in front of him had a litany of scars, a jagged scar crossing the bridge of his nose, accompanied by another that crept up his cheek from his jaw. “Why did you wait?” The Fae asked, his voice just as soft as before, the words carefully formed as if designed to pull Tim from his distracted state.
“I had no choice,” the statement was punctuated by a short, pained whine as the Fae’s hands moved to his back, both this time, the brief respite from the strain to his neck now gone as the hands pushed him up, his fingers bumping against the branch above him.
“For humans, there is always a choice. Is it that you believe in their rituals?” Such complex questions from a being that shouldn’t exist.
A being who, by all means, was attempting to assist him rather than take his life. A fate not one of the elders would have believed in. They would have reprimanded any person who dared to suggest that the Fae didn’t call for a life in exchange for the village’s fortune.
So instead of making a fool of himself by explaining his own understanding of the village’s beliefs, he merely whispered. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
Tim tipped his head in the Fae’s direction as he let out a chuckle at the question.
Definitely here, no doubt about that. He wasn’t about to go mad in these woods before hunger or some beast took his life.
Madness was a far too destructive way to go, and if he’d meet his end in this affair, he intended to do it quietly and without notice.
“Be still, and you’ll be safe,” the Fae whispered, one hand still planted firmly on Tim’s back while the other reached above both of their heads.
Be still.
It was almost a laughable statement; he could hardly kick or thrash in this position, and his neck and shoulders were far too sore to even attempt to crane his head this way or that.
Still was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as he could possibly be when every word he managed to get out felt like an exhausting task.
Four days in such a position really would take its toll on anyone.
Tim felt the tension around his wrists loosen a fraction of a second before he felt his head and torso drop. The hand on his back quickly settled him, but the sudden jolt left Tim with his eyes wide, staring up at the branch that his fingers had been close enough to touch moments before.
His hands still pointed to the sky as he tipped his head to get another look at the Fae holding his upper body upright.
“Not that still,” the Fae sighed, taking his wrists in one and guiding them to rest on his stomach.
Tim managed to let out a soft hum, his eyes returning to the other’s features every time he tried to look away, taking in every scar that graced the other’s face.
Perhaps he wasn’t Fae. The elders had always said they were flawless creatures, often more animal than man. Creatures who toyed with humans as whilst they grew old, the Fae would stay youthful, untainted, forever.
But the scars that danced across the other’s body could hardly be considered flawless. As much as they enhanced his features, the wounds of war were very much a fault.
A fault that only made Tim even more entranced.
The hand at his back slid around to his front, pulling him against the Fae’s chest as his feet fell, denying him the safety of solid ground while protecting him from the fall that had every ability to harm him.
“Return home, and beg your kind to put a stop to this nonsense.” His voice was firmer this time, stripped of any attempt to soothe his nerves, a warning that sounded like an attempt to compel him into action.
Tim shook his head slowly, leaning against the other as his toes brushed against the forest floor. “N-no. I… I can’t go back home,” he breathed, his tongue sliding along his bottom lip to wet the dry skin. “They won’t be… They uh- there’s no c-convincing them.”
A low growl came from the other, not so deep that Tim had the wherewithal to consider it a threat. “You will journey to the other side of the forest. Another village will take you in like others before.”
Another village? Tim laughed softly. No other village would take him. Not a single one would dare interfere. They’d had generations to do as much.
The laughter was cut off by a sharp hiss as the Fae attempted to set him down, the loose grip not enough to keep him upright. He hardly had the chance to feel the pain in his feet before Tim’s knees hit the ground, the forest floor denying him any sense of comfort.
“I…” Heavens, every word was an effort and yet the Fae believed he could cross the forest, that he could walk aimlessly until he stumbled upon a village that wasn’t his own.
He could hardly stand. “I won’t make it that f… make it that far, will I?”
“If you have your wits about you, you will.” The creature circled him slowly, one lap, then another, and a third, only coming to a stop as Tim tried to get his feet under him, a pained whine escaping him. “You’re hurt.”
It was a statement, not a question, as the other stood behind him, finally getting a look at the cuts on each of his feet. Perhaps he couldn’t walk to the village the Fae talked of, not until the wounds healed, but so long as no other animals crossed his path, perhaps he could crawl. “Is there…”
No, there was no sense in that; his hands were too soft, the callouses which had formed in childhood had long healed over, every thorn, every twig would cut him. Even without the risk of injury, he’d barely make it more than a few miles.
“Hunger will take me long before any injuries will,” Tim sighed, squeezing his eyes shut, the very thought bringing on a sudden wave of clarity.
The Fae’s footsteps on the forest floor were the only hint he’d reacted at all, slow, deliberate steps as if to give away his position with every step until they stopped right in front of Tim. “Look at me.”
Tim’s eyes drifted upwards, looking up at the figure crouched in front of him until his eyes met the other’s grey-green eyes.
He was being studied; there was no doubt about that. For what purposes, he couldn’t be sure, but the other knew he was hurt, knew his end would come soon enough without assistance.
But he wouldn’t beg, not for death or for mercy. His pride, wounded as it might have been, wouldn’t stand for it. “En-” The Fae sucked in a deep breath as he stopped himself; whatever words the creature might have considered saying disappeared in an instant. “Your village, it believes a sacrifice to the Fae is needed to bring good fortune, yes?”
“Yes.”
“And what of your beliefs, before our meeting… did you hold such a belief?”
His beliefs? It’d hardly been something he’d considered being asked. His beliefs hadn’t mattered upon his selection, they hadn’t mattered when they’d strung him up in the tree, nor had they mattered when he’d been rescued all those years ago.
But the Fae was asking, as if he’d disappear if Tim voiced a response that displeased the other. “I… There was proof in my mind that the Fae existed. As for the necessity for a sacrifice, I cannot say one way or another.”
There was no sense to it, but the village had been relatively fortunate each year except for the one just past.
It had been an idyllic place that existed because it preserved its rituals. But the Fae he’d encountered all those years ago, and the one in front of him now, had done him no harm.
A silence hung between them for a few moments, the Fae’s expression shifting as he weighed what words to say next.
Perhaps weighed which way he’d condemn him to death.
“The forest is not made for humans.”
Ah, there it was. He’d be left to brave the forest until his body, or worse, his spirit, gave out. “I know,” Tim sighed, his eyes falling to the forest floor.
They didn’t linger there for long, the Fae’s gentle hand guiding his head and eyes back up, the close study resuming once again. Tim bit his lip, wanting to shrink back, to find some way to minimise the other’s scrutiny, but he held his gaze.
Waiting for whatever the assessment might entail.
“You have accepted your life is over?”
“Something of the sort.”
What kind of chance did he have? They both knew the cuts to his feet hampered his ability to walk through the forest, and the lack of food in his stomach only brought his demise near.
“Humans are foolish,” the Fae sighed, a flicker in his eyes giving away his emotions for a brief moment.
“We are.”
“Will you be agreeable to everything I say?”
Tim let out a laugh; he would hardly say he had an agreeable personality. From the mischievous actions of his youth to the sharp discussions at the village’s balls, few would say he spoke with the intent to be agreeable. “No, I am considered to be rather forthright.”
“You need rest.” The Fae sighed, finally releasing his chin.
Rest, the very thought of it was humorous. He could hardly rest on the forest floor when any number of creatures could creep up on him and take his life.
No, if there wasn’t to be a sacrifice, then he’d see the blade before it took him. There was no need to fear his blood might be tainted, no need to…
“I will take you to rest and heal, and then you will cross the forest.” The Fae stated his voice firmer this time as he gathered Tim in his arms.
He couldn’t be sure when he managed to slip into a slumber in the Fae’s arms, but Tim woke with a jolt, surrounded by furs and the soft light of a fire in what could only be described as a cave.
Curious.
The whole affair had been filled with curiosities he’d accepted he’d never have an answer to.
With a great deal of effort, Tim sat up slowly. The few minutes, or perhaps hours of sleep, did not do much to improve his strength.
Still, the furs that surrounded him and the warmth of the fire offered immeasurable comfort, a security Tim had not realised he could miss.
Just a handful of days, and he’d forgotten the feeling of the comforts of what had once been his home, but had been captured by whatever the Fae had offered him. “You should rest for longer.”
Tim shrank at the Fae’s insistence, despite being unable to see the creature; he could hardly hesitate under what was, for all intents and purposes, a command. “Forgive me, but I’m in need of food,” Tim mumbled as he lay back down, his stomach offering a weak growl in agreement, the furs shifting around him as if to take him in an embrace.
The movement only ceased as the Fae stepped around him, approaching the fire.
Tim frowned, craning his head up to look from the creature’s back to the place beside him amongst the furs.
Oh.
Tim couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.
How foolish that he hadn’t noticed the other at his side. If he’d been back at the village and he’d slept alongside a young woman, it’d bring them both nothing but scandal. But at a Fae’s side?
There was no telling what the village would think of him; they’d hardly think he was a worthy sacrifice if they thought he might engage in disreputable behaviour, the lamb was supposed to remain pure after all.
If the elders' decision to designate him the lamb meant anything at all.
Tim shook his head slowly. No, it was foolish to consider the elders’ opinions on anything; they had sent him to his death without a shred of sympathy for his family.
“You will need… I should have let you stay sitting,” the Fae sighed, as he knelt at Tim’s side, holding out what looked like flatbread sitting atop a smooth dinner plate-sized rock.
Tim groaned as he sat up again, allowing himself to lean against the other as he reached for the bread, his fingers quickly retracting when he touched it, the heat almost overwhelming.
“It’s hot,” Tim mumbled, shifting onto his knees, while the Fae set the rock on the furs.
“Eat slow.” The softly spoken instruction didn’t do much to explain why he’d been served such hot bread when he was so ravenously hungry.
He reached for the flatbread again, moving it between each hand before he was satisfied he could hold it steady for more than a few seconds, glancing at the Fae briefly as he brought it to his lips.
The other was watching him closely, those grey-green eyes piercing into him, waiting for some sort of misstep, for Tim to put a foot wrong.
How could he eat bread incorrectly?
Tim looked back to the bread, opening his mouth to take a bite, only for it to close around air. The bread snatched from his hands before he could even take one. “No.”
Tim sighed, tipping his head back. So he had attempted to eat incorrectly, the soft no hadn’t been one to punish him, there wasn’t a shred of maliciousness in his demeanour, however, it did nothing to explain what he was supposed to do.
Maybe that was why he opened his mouth without hesitation as the bread pressed against his lips, the torn-off piece far smaller than his first bite ever would have been. His eyes widened as the sweet flavour filled his mouth, the bread that he’d assumed would have been flavourless seemingly filled with a sugary paste, unlike any of the berries he’d gotten his hands on in the village.
“Does it… can you stomach it?” The Fae asked as he swallowed, already holding out another torn-off piece for Tim to take.
He frowned, opening his mouth again, allowing the other to feed him once again, the fruits dancing across his tongue as he considered his response. “I’ve not had something like this before, but I want mo-”
The Fae cut him off, pressing another piece into his mouth, laughing softly when Tim accepted it without hesitation, probably expecting he’d simply swat his hand away. “Tell me your name.”
His name? It didn’t seem all that important now that he couldn’t return home, his family name didn’t mean much of anything if he ended up in another village, but the Fae wanted to know, wanted to understand a piece of him that Tim hadn’t realised he’d already let go of.
“Timothy Drake,” he finally said after he swallowed, feeling himself shrink as the other let out an amused hum.
Did he… had the other thought he’d lie, or come up with something new? He hadn’t even considered it might be an opportunity to make a new identity for himself.
And despite his current predicament, he’d enjoyed being Janet and Jack Drake’s son very much.
“Why do you trust me?”
The second question made even less sense. How could he not? He might have been strung up from a tree to be sacrificed to the Fae, but that had been the actions of humans, a Fae had cut him down, had decided to collect him from the forest floor when he had every incentive to leave him and had offered him the opportunity to rest and fill his stomach.
“I have no other option,” Tim shrugged, his mouth hanging open expectantly, waiting to be fed again.
Another piece of the bread was pressed into his mouth as the other considered his response, his voice lower the next time he spoke. “And if I were to lead you to slaughter?”
Tim surprised himself by letting out a laugh, shaking his head as he covered his mouth with his hand. How could he explain himself? The rituals of the village seemingly made no sense to the Fae already, but it was the only explanation he had.
“If you were, you would not allow my blood to be tainted with fear by revealing your hand in such a clumsy fashion.” No hunter, who needed their prey to be at peace, would allow them to see their weapon; they attempted to move in silence so as to not disturb the beasts they’d spent hours, if not days, tracking.
The Fae held up another piece of the bread, but didn’t go so far as to press it into Tim’s mouth as he opened it. “You’re not fearful,” he whispered, the Fae’s hand lowering as his eyebrows came together in confusion.
“What is there to fear, death? That will come in time. If you were to take my life, allowing me to rest and offering me a meal would be wasteful.” Tim straightened as he spoke, watching as the other’s eyes widened at the rather direct response to a comment that they both knew hadn’t been directed at him. The Fae had simply been considering his own thoughts and let the words slip.
How could he possibly fear someone who’d treated him with more kindness than Tim thought he’d ever encounter again?
Kindness from a creature who had no reason to take charge of his wellbeing in passing, let alone for however long it took for him to heal.
Tim took the torn-off piece of bread from the other’s hands, holding it out for the Fae this time. “You should eat too,” he whispered, smiling when the other relented and opened his mouth this time, allowing Tim to feed him. “What should I call you?”
Silence hung between them as the Fae chewed, his head tipping to the side when he swallowed. “My true name is not suited for the human tongue.” Not suited? There were many languages that graced their kind; some Tim estimated he’d mastered the best he could without leaving his village, but the name bestowed upon one of the Fae was not one the other thought he could form his mouth around.
He could only wonder what language the Fae spoke amongst each other when this one spoke to Tim with relative ease. “You may… I would like you to call me Jason.”
Days seemed to drag into weeks as Tim’s body recovered; his feet took the longest to heal. The pain in his shoulders subsided after a few days.
The hunger pains were all but gone after a second meal, as Jason no longer made it his mission to feed him by hand, trusting that Tim could be trusted to not make himself sick by eating too quickly.
But eventually he did recover, and a sense of dread hung over him.
He’d been permitted to stay so long as he still needed rest, so long as his gait was unsteady due to the cuts to his feet.
And now, both were hardly a problem anymore, which meant Jason would send him away with a meal and instructions on how to reach the nearest village. Neither had been promised, but what he did know about the Fae who’d taken him in, it wasn’t in his nature to allow him to go hungry simply because he wasn’t in his care any longer.
It would wound his pride far less to leave by his own volition rather than allow himself to be sent away. Except in the two days since he’d determined he was now capable of managing the journey, there’d never been a moment that felt right.
He enjoyed Jason’s company, enjoyed the tenderness of the Fae’s touch, especially at night when a hand would brush against his back, the featherlight touch trailing up his spine the moment he turned his back on the other, relieving any tension while pulling him away from the depths of slumber.
If he had more courage, he’d have asked the other to hold him, would have leaned into the embrace that Jason seemed to offer him. But any time he considered it, his mind worked against him, reminding him that he had already acted out of turn by allowing himself to sleep at the Fae’s side.
Perhaps that was why he’d turned towards Jason as the other lay down beside him, pulling the furs over the larger figure. As he mulled over what he might say, the softly spoken question filled with regret before he even managed to finish it. “Am I to leave?”
It was a conversation for morning, for the hours after first light, not when they could hear the howls of wolves and the chatter of the nocturnal creatures, but he’d asked it and Jason had turned on his side to face him, the dim light offered by the fire revealing the confusion etched across the other’s expression. Until he finally said, “No.”
Tim bit his lip. He hadn’t expected Jason to agree with him, but telling him no didn’t sound right either. “But my foot is healed.”
“You will perish if you brave the night,” Jason mumbled, a hand reaching out under the furs, resting against his waist. Protective, but not keeping him there if Tim wanted to move away from the other.
Did he? Wasn’t that why he was suggesting that his time might be up, acknowledging that he didn’t need to be in the Fae’s care anymore? It would be selfish to stay, to interfere any longer and yet…
The hand at his waist might have offered the option for him to leave, but it screamed at him that its owner wished for him to stay.
Tim nodded slowly. Jason was right. How could he not be? It was foolish to suggest leaving at a time like this; there was no use in even entertaining the matter right now.
No use in dwelling on a decision he didn’t want to have to make. If Jason tired of him, he’d send him away in due course. “I cannot bring your village good fortune,” the Fae mumbled, his thumb dragging across Tim’s back as he spoke.
“I understand.” He wouldn’t have expected Jason to bless them, so regardless, not when he’d expressed such disdain for their rituals in the weeks since he’d taken him in.
“I can offer you protection,” Jason whispered as Tim inched closer towards him. Protection, it was something he needed if he remained in the forest.
Remained amongst the Fae, but there wasn’t much sense in Jason offering it when he was already doing Tim a service by providing for him.
It should have been Tim offering something so that he might be able to stay. “It is only that… It will come at the cost of your freedom.”
His freedom? The very idea sounded absurd, but there was sincerity in Jason’s tone, a confirmation of sorts that he would be making a sacrifice of sorts in exchange for Jason’s protection. “So I will be in service to you?”
“No.”
“Your property?” Indentured servitude, he’d read of it, for the opportunity of a different life in a different country, they’d give up their youth to serve families who’d made their fortunes by leaving. They’d learn a trade or serve as a domestic servant, and some decades later, they’d leave that service, with opportunities that would never have been on offer in their dying villages.
Except Jason shook his head again, rolling onto his back. “You would be protected from the Fae and other creatures who wish to harm you.”
“For my freedom?”
The question made the Fae’s expression twist in what looked like regret, or at least what Tim hoped was so. “Devotion, or dedication. I’m not sure I know the word.”
“Then I need for you to explain it.” There was no sense in agreeing to give up his freedom, wasn’t any sense in much of anything, but if he needed to hold on to one thing, it would have to be some shred of freedom.
“There is magic in our promises, and with that, there is a cost on both sides.”
A cost.
Of course, there was a cost, that was the natural order of things, but for freedom to be the cost for safety and shelter…
It wasn’t an even exchange. Tim knew that well enough.
However, there wasn’t much else he could offer; they both knew as much. “So you’ll protect me, house me, and I’ll…”
“No, it’s not so simple,” Jason sighed, sitting up, the antlers casting a shadow from the fire’s light along the back wall of the cave, the shape more akin to a monster than a man. “I will protect you from all who wish harm upon you, but you will need to devote your body and soul to my kin, to providing for our well-being in the ways you’re capable of doing so,”
“Your kin?”
“My family.”
Tim rolled his eyes. He knew what Jason had meant by kin, restating it did nothing to explain who he meant by it. Jason hadn’t spoken a positive word of the other Fae, and the creatures of the forest hadn’t dared come near his saviour’s den.
He shifted under Jason’s gaze, the study he’d come to figure had a fondness behind it, now had something more, something that could only be…
Tim shook his head, no, that was absurd, the one who held the power between them was Jason, he had no reason to think this would have a less than favourable outcome. “I have no choice?”
“You are human, choice is a luxury your spirit is blessed with,” Jason chuckled from above him.
He could say no, could accept a different cost… provided he could come up with something. A cost that wouldn’t limit him, wouldn’t leave him trapped. “What… I ah- what will I be required to do?”
“You mustn’t inflict harm on myself or-”
“Or anyone you consider family. Is there more?” Tim interrupted, allowing his fingers to slide through the furs until they bumped against Jason’s leg.
“Only that you remain loyal to me.” Loyalty, undying loyalty even, words spoken so softly that Jason almost sounded ashamed of them.
Could the Fae feel shame in the ways humans did? They weren’t thought to be entirely honest creatures. “What will you-”
“You will be safe.”
“No,” Tim groaned, forcing himself to sit up. “What would you do to me if I were to fail?”
Jason looked to him and then looked away just as quickly. “That is not for me to determine; however, consequences are often not kind.”
“Death?”
“It’s possible, but a situation so dire will mean I have failed you,” Jason said, his voice unsteady, inhaling sharply as their fingers bumped against one another’s. “You are able to refuse.
He could hardly refuse, Jason had been right he wouldn’t survive the night and the village he’d spoken of could be days away, his options were limited. “I am unable to return home, and I wish for safety. There are worse costs than what you have laid out, I only wish to comprehend the submission you require.”
“It will be a partnership.”
“Par-” Tim stopped himself, standing and stepping out into the middle of the other’s den, his hands coming together as he paced.
There’d be consequences that were not for Jason to determine if he broke the vow that the other was putting to him, because it relied first and foremost on magic.
On a spell that intertwined them for the rest of Tim’s mortal life, at least.
A spell that formed a partnership, it was almost as though…
“You wish to marry me?” Tim asked, his voice far louder than he’d hoped it would be.
Marriage, it wasn’t a suggestion he’d expected, but there was sense in it, even if he wasn’t sure he understood how it would be possible. It was a bond amongst humans, one that was forged in the church, not from some sort of spell that required for them to rely on one another.
And yet it was the most sensible conclusion, had more sense to it than it should. All creatures wanted for companionship, even those that lived in isolation would find a mate for a period, but he hadn’t considered, hadn’t deigned to think that Jason might deem him to be a fitting companion.
“I wish to ensure your safety, but your company is something I’d also cherish,” Jason said without a hint of humour.
A human was hardly intriguing company, if the Fae existed, there must be far more interesting creatures than humans, who were too fickle and yet far too complacent. Hell, he’d been arrogant enough to think the Elders would never look his way because he was the only son of a wealthy family.
Companionship or otherwise, this was the safest bet.
“I’ll do it,” Tim said, allowing his feet to slow, the lack of movement making him all too aware that his feet weren’t entirely healed.
Which didn’t go unnoticed as he attempted to stand on the side of his left foot, it seemed. Jason was at his side within seconds, holding both of Tim’s hands as he guided him to the other side of the fire. “You should sit,” Jason said, as Tim leaned against the cave’s wall, letting his hands fall to his sides.
“I should help, tell me what I can do.”
“Sit, Timothy Drake.” The other’s voice was firm, harsher than Tim had thought he’d heard in the weeks since Jason had saved him.
A warning.
Perhaps one that served as a secondary warning of his life to come.
“I told you, my preference is that you call me Tim, and it takes two to come to an agreement, so if I can he-” Tim fell silent as the other turned his back on him, as if he hadn’t even been listening all the while Tim had followed the command to sit on the cold cave floor.
It was hardly reasonable for him to be scolded so, while Jason got to literally turn his back on him!
“I… You should allow me to make the preparations, the… magic does not act with kindness to those who do not understand it.” Jason said, not daring to look in Tim’s direction as he moved to one of the chests, the hinges creaking as he pulled it open.
The Fae had admitted he’d found it after it’d fallen from a carriage some years ago, and Tim hadn’t thought to press further beyond the original contents. A chest full of winter clothes was hardly a matter of consequence to the Fae, considering Jason seemed to have a preference for fixing rags around his hips.
Anything more restricted his movements, supposedly.
It’d just been clothes, and the forest was hardly the place to take a carriage through in the first place. There was no reason to suspect foul play, even if Jason might not have been entirely truthful.
This was, however, an entirely different matter.
“I don’t need magic to trust you’ll keep your word and not cast me out when your temper is at its worst,” Tim said, his eyes widening as Jason pulled a dagger from the chest. “Or is it that you feel you cannot trust-”
“Our pact will provide me with knowledge of your condition without seeing you,” Jason said, tipping the blade in his hand from side to side as if he were trying to determine whether it had been weighted correctly or not. “If harm were to come to you, I would know I should be at your side.”
He’d know… Tim couldn’t help but laugh somewhat bitterly. What good was knowing if he couldn’t be at his side in an instant? Jason had confessed himself that some days he travelled miles through the forest while he hunted, miles that if Tim stayed at the cave, he could hardly travel in the time it would take for a wolf or some other animal to maul him.
He was no better protected with or without the involvement of magic.
“Truthfully, this sounds poorly thought out,” Tim sighed, rubbing his hand across his jaw.
Poorly thought out and set up to punish only him, a statement he wouldn’t dare vocalise, not when Jason’s shoulders tensed at the implication he wasn’t going into this with a clear mind.
How could either one of them be acting with clarity? The very notion of a magical contract had been an entirely foreign concept to Tim minutes ago.
“It is difficult for a human to comprehend,” Jason said, as he straightened, the dagger’s time pressed against his ring finger, not so firm that it might draw blood, but the pressure was obvious despite the dim firelight. “Other Fae, they… I do not wish for you to feel without protection if you were to encounter them. They find amusement in what humans would consider cruelty.”
“Humans also find amusement in that sort of thing,” Tim chuckled. What had the village rituals been if not a cruel form of amusement? There hadn’t been sense in it as it pertained to their faith; they believed in one God, a singular entity whom they showed great reverence to until luck threatened to turn.
The elder who told his mother to simply bear another child and move on certainly found amusement in his cruel words.
“So it’s that you wish to protect me from the other Fae?” There was sense in that he supposed. Jason hadn’t dared to speak highly of them, and if their cruelty was the reason he seemed determined to isolate himself from them, then Tim could hardly interrogate the matter.
Except Jason shook his head as he knelt in front of Tim. “From all harm.”
“You cannot protect anyone from all harm,” Tim said, the words leaving him before he truly had the chance to consider them. Words he couldn’t help regretting at the wounded flash in Jason’s eyes. “I could tread on a branch and hurt myself. You should not be responsible for my lack of attention to my surroundings, or the days my mind might make me feel so loathsome I do not wish to pull myself out of bed.”
He’d seen it before, years ago, when his mother’s health had taken a turn. There’d been physicians in and out of the house for days, but when they’d stopped coming, that’s when her refusal to leave her bed had stretched on until his birthday neared and she’d managed to venture into town with him at his begging.
“I can-”
“That is all natural harm that you cannot prevent.” Tim groaned, interrupting the other. Was he so convinced of his own abilities, of the power behind the magical contract he seemed determined to craft, that he couldn’t see that some pain was a simple fact of being human? “I may not wish to die so young, but I will not allow myself to be a caged songbird either.”
“Caged songbird?” Jason whispered, as he tipped his head to the side, mouthing the words twice over as he attempted to comprehend the double meaning behind Tim’s words.
So he would have to spell it out to the other. Tim shook his head slowly. “Will I be permitted to leave your den without you by my side?”
Jason’s eyes widened, the blade clattering to the cave floor as he considered the question. “Why… Yes, I do not wish to deceive you. I-I should not have said freedom was a cost, I could not find the right words.”
“Why do you wish to involve magic when it could ultimately harm both of us?”
Jason laughed softly, a gentle laugh that offered more comfort than it ought to. “It is customary in forming a partnership.”
Ah, so it was a marriage afterall.
Tim couldn’t help laughing in turn, tipping his head back only for it to collide with the cave wall, the sharp pain subsiding when he squeezed his eyes shut. “Will our… Does it hurt to make such a partnership?”
It had to hurt somewhat. Why else would Jason have brought out a knife he’d hidden away in a chest that appeared to house items so mundane Tim hadn’t even found it in himself to rummage through it for his own amusement?
“Only briefly,” Jason whispered, picking up the knife once more, holding it by the blade as he offered the hilt to Tim.
His fingers stretched out to grasp it, only to retract as his middle finger brushed against the cool metal. Tim bit down on his bottom lip ignoring the voice at the back of his mind that begged he not dare touch it.
That voice fell silent as he gripped the dagger, the steel blade inscribed with a series of runes that were no doubt like the very ones that had been painted on his chest all those weeks ago. “Are you fearful?” Tim asked, looking from the weapon to Jason, the other’s expression giving him away before a sense of calm washed over it once more.
“More than I ought to be, just as you are not fearful enough.”
“Of other Fae?” Tim asked, turning the blade over to examine the swirling pattern of leaves engraved on the other side.
The other rolled his eyes, letting out a dismissive laugh. “They are tiresome, and they are not without malicious intent, but-”
“But do you fear them?” Tim asked, his voice firmer this time as his eye returned to Jason, watching for that hint of deception that might reveal itself in his expression in the moments before he spoke.
Except it didn’t come, instead Jason simply shook his head slowly. “It is a lack of trust. I am not fearful of the Fae.”
“And if I encounter one, while you have taken one of your walks?”
“You have my permission to handle them as you see fit,” Jason chuckled, taking the dagger from him. “Has your resolve been shaken?”
Tim shook his head, slowly, his eyes never leaving Jason’s. “It has strengthened.”
He had to trust that Jason knew what he was doing, as easy as it was to think Jason’s idea of a magical pact sounded poorly conceptualised. If it was the best way to secure his place here… to secure his safety, then he needed to embrace Jason’s terms. “It is late, perhaps-”
“No,” Tim whispered, his hand flying out to grip the Fae’s wrist. “If you think I will be resentful by dawn, you misunderstand my need to question. I want to stay and I would…”
God, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, as if he were some fool stammering over a love confession instead of trying to convince a Fae he was in agreement with the pact that the Fae had been determined to make in the first place.
“You could have left me there, I’d have been long dead, but you took me in, and if that doesn’t make one loyal to another, I don’t know what would.” He could hardly say it was a convincing speech, but Jason’s eyes never left his, never showed a flash of doubt or insecurity.
In fact, Tim was sure the corners of the other’s lips twitched as he whispered that the other had taken him in.
“If it is to be believed, humans call what we will do a blood pact. Only it cannot be broken quite so easily.”
A blood pact, well, he could see some sense in that. Blood magic didn’t sound entirely out of the ordinary for Fae, even if it did sound rather extreme.
Jason had more or less said that failing to uphold their agreement could lead to death, a death that was not to be at Jason’s hand. Tim shook his head as he laughed. Of course, they’d be at the mercy of the fates or whatever other entity had true control over magic.
Magic that might have guided the other to find him in that tree. A fanciful idea, but better he cling to that than believe in chance. “Hold out your hand,” Jason whispered, his voice so soft Tim was sure the other was worried he’d scare him off if he raised it even slightly.
Tim outstretched his arm, slowly turning his left hand over as he stared at the other, trying to ignore the sudden feeling that the act of making this supposed blood pact was going to be more underwhelming than he’d first expected.
A magical pact ought to be more complicated than something two children with a knife could do in the village.
He would have expected some sort of potion or for Jason to bring him over to the fire. Yes, standing in hot coals would do wonders for his newly healed feet. “Will I cut you?” Tim asked, holding back a laugh.
The Fae smiled as he nodded, his mouth moving around words that never came out before he met Tim’s eyes once more. “You will not understand the spell, but when I look at you, you will say eu farei. It is an agreement of-”
“I understand,” Tim whispered, straightening as Jason returned his attention to his hand.
The firelight dancing across the cave walls seemed to brighten when Jason spoke again, his voice more melodic than Tim had ever heard it, despite the words hardly sounding like a chant, let alone the songs a troubadour might sing for the village.
They were simply words in a language that left Tim wondering where one word ended and the next began.
Words that seemed to sear into his soul pulled him towards the other, despite neither one of them moving. The pull only intensified when Jason said the lone two words he understood.
Timothy Drake.
Tim opened his mouth instinctively to chastise the other for daring to use his full name, but any argument died as their eyes met. The soft hue of Jason’s eyes now opalescent, pinks and blues shimmering across a green canvas. “Eu farei,” Tim rushed to whisper, panting softly before a sharp whine escaped him as the tip of the dagger pierced his fourth finger.
Jason didn’t move as the blood beaded on the tip of his finger, his brows coming together until just enough pooled that it threatened to spill. Holding Tim’s wrist, Jason guided his hand to the Fae’s chest, pressed the bloodied finger to his sternum and pulled it down in a short line before drawing a swirling rune-like pattern across his chest.
Only for the Fae to bring the finger to his lips, dragging it along his bottom lip as their eyes met again, only remembering himself when the dagger was pressed into his other hand.
The blade felt less steady in his hand the second time, the weight of what they’d already started hitting him in a rush. There was no going back, any disruption and the fates or whomever ruled over the Fae wouldn’t look kindly upon either one of them.
Jason didn’t so much as wince as Tim cut the same finger, the knife falling between them as the other’s arm darted forward, finding its way under the folds of the same shirt Tim had been dressed in the day Jason found him.
He didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe as the other painted the same rune onto his skin, only managing to blink as Jason’s finger brushed against his lip.
The melodic murmurs resumed only to cease as Jason leaned towards Tim, a thumb catching under his chin tilting his head up. “Our blood must mix,” the Fae whispered.
He wasn’t given nearly enough time to consider the statement before Jason’s lips were pressed to his, the metallic taste hitting him as a fire erupted under his skin, torching every nerve as he felt himself kiss the other back.
An act he would never have truly considered just hours ago and now it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Had this been what he’d longed for all those nights Jason had dared to rest his hand on his waist or back?
Only it ended too soon, Jason pulled away from him, a flush spreading not only across the Fae’s face but down his neck too, the opalescent shift in his eyes dissipating as they stared at one another.
“A kiss?” Tim laughed, covering his mouth with the back of his left hand. There was no doubting it now, even if the Fae didn’t engage in particular human rituals, to seal a contract with a kiss was just another way to say they’d formed a union rather than made a pact.
Jason didn’t join him in his laughter, only stared at him with a smile that seemed to fade as each moment passed until he gripped Tim’s wrist, tugging it towards himself as both of their eyes landed on the red, vine-like marks that twisted up his arm. “What does…”
“I…” There it was, more than a flash, not just something behind the eyes but genuine fear etched across the other’s face that Jason seemed desperate to suppress.
The Fae didn’t know, and he wouldn’t dare say it, which meant it was now Tim’s duty to alleviate Jason’s fears. He moved slowly, attempting to telegraph each movement as he shifted from the seated position to his knees, inching towards Jason as he rested his unmarked hand on his shoulder.
A distraction had to be enough, had to push the thoughts away for long enough that when they rested against the furs again Jason wouldn’t sense a shred of danger from the strange marks that had formed as a consequence of their pact.
“Did you-” Tim closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the others. There was no need for words, no need to allow themselves to be caught up in their thoughts.
All they needed was a second taste.