Archive of Our Own

 ‘Usually it’s you telling me to be more careful.’ Charles noted as he half-carried, half-dragged Edwin towards home.

 Edwin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had been careful, and the risk had been calculated. ‘With good reason.’

 ‘And you almost killing yourself in the name of good deeds isn’t?’

 Charles said it with surprising bite, but Edwin didn’t retaliate, partially because he was trying very hard not to lose the contents of his stomach into the nearest bush, and partially because they’d had that argument so many times before.

 After spending all day every day with each other for several years, they knew the other’s weaknesses as well as they knew their own.

 In the middle of the cursed woods, they’d built a life for themselves. 

 As an ex-knight, Charles was equipped to handle whatever required the pointy end of a sword, and as a scholar, Edwin was best suited to whatever required a book and a bit of spite. That wasn’t his only role, however- it was a closely guarded secret that he was a cleric, and that he possessed an extraordinary ability.

 His whole life, he had been able to carry the pain of others. Quite literally. His mere presence could alleviate suffering, and his attentions transferred pain from the original victim to himself.

 They took great care not to advertise that fact, however.

 Edwin’s soul had been traded to the Fae, and they were ever-desperate to get him back. His escaping in the first place had been unheard of. Therefore, the last thing they needed was to spawn rumours of a young cleric capable of absorbing injuries, as it would lead the Fae right to him. And to Charles, who deserved their wrath even less than he did.

 Despite that, a few select individuals knew of his abilities, and called upon him in desperate circumstances.

 An hour’s walk away from their humble house, a warlock had gone on a rampage and cursed his wife and daughters. They were deteriorating at an alarming rate, according to a note delivered via crow, and no-one else had the necessary skills to keep them tethered to the correct realm while they searched for someone to heal them.

 No-one except Edwin.

 Charles didn’t like it- of course he didn’t, he thought any action that caused harm to his companion was wholly unnecessary- but volunteered to come along regardless.

 Edwin was glad of his company. Especially after he absorbed the curse.

 The walk back home seemed to take an eternity longer than the journey from it. In all likelihood, Edwin would have collapsed on the side of the road, physically unable to go on, if he had not had a most diligent and wonderful person at his side.

 Their relationship baffled and angered some. They did not care. 

 Edwin had fortified their home with a great many charms and hexes- no-one would be getting in in the first place, and certainly not without his knowledge.

 That didn’t prevent Charles from sleeping with a dagger.

 After the trials they had faced separately and together, neither of them questioned the lengths the other would go to ensure their continued anonymity and safety. There were certain places they would rather slit their throat before going again.

 All of that seemed a long way away as Edwin lost his battle with nausea and was sick into a clod of grass.

 ‘Once we get back home, you’re taking a rest.’ Charles commanded, rubbing his back soothingly. Then, as if predicting the arguments Edwin would have made, if his mouth was not otherwise engaged, he said; ‘You did a good thing, helping out that family. Now you need to let someone help you.’

 Edwin swallowed bile in order to say; ‘I can think of no better person.’

 ‘Flattery’ll get you nowhere.’ But he said it fondly.

-

 That night, Edwin allowed himself a few hours by the fire. Their cottage was one room, and drafty, but it had a table, a trunk for his books, and a bed in the corner. He could ask for nothing more, really. It was certainly better than the Fae’s realm.

 Really, anything was better than the Fae realm.

 Edwin was freezing, despite his proximity to the fire, and attempted to suppress a shiver. Charles noticed, of course.

 ‘Still not feeling well? That was a big job, earlier.’ He said, tucking Edwin under his arm.

 ‘I feel no worse than that family did.’

 ‘They felt terrible, mate.’

 ‘Precisely. And my own discomfort is mitigated by the fact they are no longer burdened by that.’

 Charles sighed. ‘But you are. And I know you’re a selfless bastard and you don’t mind hurting all day long if it means someone else doesn’t have to, but gods, sometimes I wish you didn’t act like you deserved it.’

 For a moment, there was silence except for the fire crackling. 

 ‘I do not act like I deserve it.’ He groused. ‘But if one has the ability to alleviate suffering then surely the only moral thing to do is to act?’

 ‘And what if that sends to you an early grave?’

 ‘It will not-’

 His point was somewhat hindered by a coughing fit that lasted far longer than either of them would’ve liked. Despite the chill outside, Charles shucked off his own coat and wrapped it around Edwin’s shaking shoulders. Edwin wanted to protest- his friend truly despised the cold- but, well, it was comforting, and he was weak in more ways than one. 

 Once the fit subsided, Charles struck up again;

 ‘You can’t keep on like this.’

 ‘I know.’ Edwin said quietly. ‘But what else can I do?’

 ‘Take a break? Tell anyone who comes begging that you’re really definitely sick and can’t possibly go heal someone?’

 They looked at each other for a moment before Charles sighed. ‘But you’d never say that.’

 Edwin nodded.

 ‘Can you at least promise me that you’ll let me take care of you after you magick people? Neither of us are alone anymore, ‘Win. You don’t have to do it all by yourself.’ Charles squeezed his hand.

 ‘Only if you promise me the same.’ Edwin said.

 ‘No need, is there? You’ve been looking after me from the beginning.’

-

 Edwin did not know whether or not he had left the Fae Realm. All he knew was that he had been running for a long time, and every soul he passed had ignored him as though he was made of air.

 Still, he ran. He ran through marshes and woodland and valleys until eventually coming to a halt at a stream.

 It was not the body of water itself that gave him pause- it was that it was frozen. The fae’s land operated by it’s own rules, and was subject to the whims of it’s rulers, much like Edwin himself was. Suspected to be a changeling, he’d been sacrificed to the forest. He did not know if he was, truly, since he was indeed so different to those around him in ways that drew suspicion and mockery, but the Unseelie Court only saw fit to treat him as a plaything or slave.

 Edwin could never make up his mind as to which of those two things was the greater torment.

 Anyway, he could not dwell on that. The fact was that according to his rather slapdash calendar system, it was supposed to be summer in the human realm, and yet the stream was frozen.

 For a moment, he wondered if he had been tricked- allowed to run in a full circle only to be ensnared by a fae who took great joy in frost and ice.

 It would not have been the first time.

 Fae needed amusement like he needed breathing, and they’d been only too keen to let their pet supply it for them. 

 But no- he could feel that he was no longer in their realm. He had not been aware of the strange film that covered the Fae Realm like cobwebs or dragonfly wings while he had been there, but the place he was now in had no such effects. The sky was grey, the snow on the ground white, and his breath realised a puff of steam into the freezing air.

 He had done it. He had made it out.

 In his frayed blue cloak and bare feet, he was ill-equipped for the blizzard he sensed on the horizon. Still, being a cleric gave him a few advantages. For all the trouble it had caused him, for all that it had made him so conspicuous, it at least granted him a little immunity against the elements, and a little respite from things that might have otherwise pained him in his circumstances.

 He continued onward. His extremities turned blue but did not progress to black. His legs ached but did not collapse. His crossing of the frozen stream did not end with him plunging into the depths.

 Supposing himself to still be deep in the woods, he was surprised to find a structure. 

 It was long-abandoned, clearly, with a rotting door and icicles suspended from the awning, but it had four walls and something approximating a ceiling, and so was the best he could hope for, given the circumstances.

 Stepping inside, he glimpsed a fireplace and little else. Still, it would do. Whoever last inhabited it left a neatly stacked pile of firewood but had taken every last possession with them. Edwin reminded himself that such a mystery would have to be solved at a later date, and that he needed to settle down for the evening before even his uncommon immunity wore down.

 He had not wasted his time with the Fae. Despite their strict regulations on what spells and cantrips a mere human could use, they had not put great effort into suppressing his abilities, likely supposing him to be too ignorant to master them.

 Edwin almost smiled as he summoned a flame with a curl of his finger. 

 Almost. He had worn a mask for as long as he could remember, and it was only strengthened by his imprisonment.

 With the exhaustion of the day catching up to him at long last, he spread his cloak on the floor and curled up in front of the fire. He could not drop his guard, but he needed at least a few hours of rest before figuring out his next steps.

 A few moments, or at least what felt like a few moments later, Edwin was awoken by a presence.

 Within an instant, he was on his feet. 

 A firepoker lay discarded on the floor, and he hastily picked it up and pointed it in the direction of the door. In spite of himself, he trembled. He knew well enough that if a member of the Unseelie Court came for him, there was nothing he could do about it. 

 When no malignant spirit came crashing into the room, he took as deep a breath as he could manage and focused.

 Had he not been startled awake whilst already on a knife’s edge, he would have been able to discern the difference between a human and a fae immediately. He had not attempted to explain his strangeness to anyone in a very long time, but if he had, it might have sounded akin to ‘fae are bitter and seedy and bloody, like a ruined liver.’

 Impossible to explain, really. 

 Now that he had his wits about him, he knew the presence outside his shelter was a human. Autumnal colours and sweet, like mead or summer blackberries.

 Edwin reminded himself that a presence that appeared nice could just as easily hide poison. Once, he had trusted a lad with red curls and a wide grin, and that boy had been among the first to testify of his being a changeling, sent by the Fae to destroy their village from within.

 His presence had been soft. And cheerful.

 And he fell for it hook, line, and sinker like a damned fool.

 He had learned the hard way not to fall prey to fits of fancy or suppose himself on the road to anything more than a short, harsh life. He could withstand the pain and imprisonment- the disappointment was another thing entirely.

 All of that to say, he should have left the person outside alone. Given the howling wind, snowstorm, and pitch-black night sky, his little fire would not have attracted attention.

 Edwin could have stayed put and let the stranger pass. 

 But he knew something had to be wrong, for no-one would willingly wander the woods in a blizzard such as the one raging about the forest. And part of him remembered the feeling of being cast out into similar conditions, and that same part of him was uneasy at the thought of leaving someone to perish alone out there.

With his cloak around his shoulders and a torch in his hand, he set off into the night.

-

 Back in the present, Charles was attempting to cajole Edwin into having dinner.

 When the mere sight of a cup of tea threatened biliousness, Charles relented and settled instead for keeping up a constant stream of chatter that served to both distract and comfort his friend.

 Outside, an early snowfall seemed imminent, and Edwin took note of how Charles refused to glance out their window.

 Despite the several years of distance between their chance meeting in a snowstorm and the trials that followed, Charles had never been able to shake his discomfort and fear at the sight of an approaching storm. Their first winter together, he had scarcely left the cottage, and more often than not he could be found hunched over beside the fire, staring warily at the flakes falling out of doors.

 Things had improved since then, but not enough to exorcise the specter entirely.

 Both of them remembered it clear as day.

-

 Edwin did not need to travel far before encountering the presence he sensed. Indeed, it had been a walk of a mere few minutes, and it likely would have been faster if not for the rapidly piling snow.

 He had expected perhaps a lost shepherd, or an older vagrant.

 He had not expected a figure clad in a striking red shirt and little else, save for a pair of trousers and boots, of about his age. The person- a young man by the looks of it- had collapsed against the base of an oak tree and looked well on his way to an early grave.

 Once again, Edwin did not have to help. He could have written him off as a lost cause and left his corpse for the scavengers.

 But he couldn’t bring himself to be so callous.

 In spite of how he himself had been treated, he chose to believe that people were good, or, at least, better than the close-minded villagers who had cast him out and set in motion his horrible ordeal in the Fae Realm.

 He stepped forward with his torch held high, and tried to look non-threatening.

 ‘What do you want?’ The young man asked warily.

 ‘You can see me?’ Edwin said. After so long invisible to humans, he wasn’t sure he was even visible to the person in front of him.

 He nodded in reply.

 ‘Rest assured, I shan't hurt you.’

 With that, Edwin stepped closer, and the stranger seemed to fold in on himself, almost as though he was surrendering. It then occurred to Edwin that he had not made much of a plan when he left the safety of the cottage, and that he would have to make one up on the spot. His options were not multifold, really. He could leave the young man to die alone and cold in the middle of the cursed woods, or he could bring him to shelter and at least let him die with a little bit of peace and dignity.

 Damn his soft heart, he chose the latter. Wrapping the stranger in his own cloak, he opted to carry him back to the cottage, as he seemed unable to support himself at that moment.

 Edwin was pale and tired, but he had strength, and carried him with no real trial.

 Still, it was a relief to see the cottage again. He wasted no time in getting them inside and beside the fire, but ran into a problem therein. The building was empty, and there was no hope of finding medical supplies in the near future. Even if Edwin had been able to forage or perhaps find someone to trade with, the blizzard could potentially last days.

 The solution was clear, yet he hesitated.

 His abilities had been met with nothing but fascination or horror. Even the lad from before- Simon, his mind unhelpfully supplied- had been repulsed by it. Well, for a moment he seemed as though he could understand it- could understand Edwin- before his face morphed into a scowl and he declared it unnatural.

 The stranger was dead to the world, however, and unlikely to wake in the near future. 

 Edwin did not know his history- he could have been a brigand, or a disreputable fellow attempting to escape justice- but he paid that fact no mind. Either he would succeed or he would fail, and either way he would be free of the guilt of doing nothing to aid him.

 He took a breath and reached for the stranger’s shoulder. He’d laid him in front of the fire, wrapped in his cloak, and hoped maybe the heat would lessen some of the pain.

 That idea proved to be wholly incorrect.

 First and foremost was the chill that permeated everything. Edwin’s teeth chattered as he willed himself to look beyond the surface-level suffering, but he did not allow himself to falter. The task at hand was of greater importance than his own discomfort.

 The next sensation he became aware of was, paradoxically, burning. Stripes of burning up and down his back, especially concentrated on the left shoulder. It was nearly unbearable, and Edwin was no weakling himself. The Fae had inadvertently given him something of tolerance to most forms of pain and humiliation through sheer repetition, and that tolerance served him well as the burning feeling turned white-hot.

 But it was working. If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure if he could make much of a difference, given his Fae-induced lack of practice and the stranger’s condition.

 Despite the forces at play against them, the young man who, mere minutes before, had looked as close to death as a human could without becoming a corpse looked much improved. He’d stopped shivering, some colour was returning to his face, and he seemed a little more settled.

 Edwin exhaled in relief. 

 Since he had absorbed some of the damage instead of healing it, it had merely transferred to him instead of dissipating into thin air.

 It was an unpleasant feeling, to say the least.

 Despite his prior exhaustion, he felt no inclination to sleep, partially out of wariness of the person he had so impulsively brought into the closest thing resembling home that Edwin had seen in years, and partially because of the pain still slicing the length and breadth of his back. 

 He had always been in possession of a curious streak, and found himself gazing upon the figure in front of his fire as though he was a particularly intriguing puzzle.

 At the very least, it made for a good distraction.

 The most notable thing, back when Edwin had first discovered him, had been his wholly inadequate attire. No furs, no cloak, no sturdy clothing of any kind- had he perhaps been mugged? Robbed at knifepoint on one of the seedy roads that snaked around the woods and left to fend for himself?

 Now, however, in the warm light of the fireplace, his features became apparent.

 He was quite striking, with his red, robin-like shirt and a pierced ear. Now that he was not so washed out by pain and cold, his skin was golden, his hair curly, and had they both been standing, he would have been taller than Edwin. Judging by the pointed ears but lack of any kind of magical aura, Edwin surmised he was a half-elf, perhaps less. His features were angular, and if the laugh-lines around his eyes were any indication, he often wore a cheery expression. In short- he was handsome.

 Edwin blushed and looked away. The stranger would surely not appreciate being ogled by a boy, even if said boy had rescued him from the elements.

 As his gaze was no longer fixed on the pleasant face in front of him, it instead wandered to his pockets. He had no intention of robbing the boy- he now guessed them to be of about the same age- but, well, curiosity had always been a fault of his. A piece of string hung from one of his pockets, and Edwin glanced at him a little guiltily before slipping it out of said pocket.

 Once he did, he was surprised at the weight. It was not a simple length of thread- it was a cord on which hung a small metal rectangle. His suspicions rose. 

 Turning the medallion to the light, he could just about make out the word inscribed upon it-

 Dishonourable.

 That was a loaded word, usually reserved for nobility or even royalty that had committed a misdeed or run afoul of whoever commanded them. Edwin blamed the fatigue of the day and after-effects of his healing abilities for his not putting the pieces together sooner. He thought back to the pain that scored his back-

 Due to the claw-like nature of the injuries, he assumed it had been a knife fight or perhaps even an attack by a large, predatory animal.

 That theory didn’t hold much water after consideration.

 He flipped the medallion over, hoping for a final clue, and was rewarded by the sight of jagged, barely-etched letters on the other side. They looked hastily done, as though the metal tablet was already forged and the name added at a later date. The name in question was difficult to make out, but looked like;

 Charles Rowland.

 Edwin racked his mind for more information. The Rowlands were, indeed, a noble house, but not one of especial political importance, wealth, or connections to royalty. Indeed, there had been rumours of it falling into disrepute. Perhaps it already had, and the dishonourable lad he had chosen to risk his own life for had been the stone that sent it all tumbling to the ground.

 He had potentially invited a violent criminal into his shelter.

 There were other explanations that could explain why the stranger was in possession of a piece of jewellery intended to inform everyone he interacted with of his errors.

 Gods, it was possible that the boy wasn’t even Charles Rowland, and had the tablet for reasons unconnected to crime and wholly innocent. That explanation was thin as a cobweb and Edwin knew it, but he railed against the entire concept of rendering swift judgement before knowing all facts. It had been his own downfall.

 There was a way to be certain, however. 

 He did not like it- it felt like an intrusion- but after so long at another being’s mercy, he could not bear the thought of putting himself in danger for something as rote and human as manners. Not when he had experienced the alternatives.

 Fortunately, the stranger was already laying on his side, which made it quite easy for Edwin to pull up his shirt, exposing his back and shoulderblades. 

 It confirmed his suspicions.

 Whip-marks, so criss-crossed and numerous that they were impossible to distinguish from one another or count. A standard punishment in the knighthood was flogging, but the injuries before him seemed harsh even for some of the strictest factions. This was not a warning or chastisement- it was setting an example. 

 Somehow, that was not the worst of it.

 Edwin had been aware of an especially agonising wound located on the left shoulder, but had chalked it up to a deep gash or the potential onset of infection.

 It was neither of those things. It was a brand, livid against the skin and likely still unbearable despite the healing he’d received. The evidence was unmistakable. He had, indeed, been tried and found guilty by whatever forces governed him. 

 Another thing struck Edwin- the sheer brutality of it all. Yes, floggings were regularly served to sailors and unruly knights, but not to the degree shown on Charles Rowland’s back. It was almost as if someone had attempted to execute him with nothing but a whip, but had given up when their arm tired. Such shows of brutality were typically reserved for the lowest of the low, peasants guilty of abominable crimes who were sentenced to torture before their painful execution.

 Charles Rowland was a knight, and a noble to boot. Either of those things should have exempted him from such severe punishment, regardless of crime. The brand on his back matched the medallion- a D for dishonourable.

 What in the name of every realm could he possibly have done to warrant that?

-

 When Edwin closed his eyes, he could feel Charles’ presence in more ways than one. The arm around his waist, the soft humming he liked to fill the silence with, and the aura of warmth and safety that went with him wherever he chose to go. Though he typically chose to go where Edwin went.

 Very few things in the Fae Realm had been enjoyable, but their little cleric had struck up something of a friendship with their hunting dogs.

 The beasts in question were more than capable of ripping out his throat, but they saw he posed no threat to their mistresses and masters and therefore allowed his presence. Indeed, they seemed to enjoy it, even when Edwin had no table scraps to offer.

 Charles reminded him of those dogs. The sighthounds, primarily. They had loyalty in common, as well as their build- lean and lanky, but wiry. 

 Oh, and a large pair of brown eyes that seemed tailor-made to plead.

 Even Edwin was not as immune as he seemed, not when he was already so fond and so hopelessly devoted himself.

 Unfortunately said eyes were all too keen to spot any weaknesses in his partner, and he had been looking at Edwin with consternation all evening. He chose to ignore it. Now that his fingers had stopped trembling and he could glance upon a page without fear of nausea, he had committed himself to writing an entry on the day’s happenings. 

 Edwin had, with a little assistance from Charles, moved to the table. No matter how wretched he felt, it was always comforting to light a candle, dip his quill in oak gall, and write until all the thoughts in his mind had migrated to parchment.

 Despite far comfier places to sit being available, Charles chose to perch on the edge of the desk.

 So long as he did not jostle anything, Edwin permitted it.

 ‘Can you think of any details I may have missed?’ He asked.

 ‘Hmm. I’ll be honest, I was a bit busy trying to hit that warlock with a nice pointy object to be of much use in observation.’

 Edwin smiled. ‘I suppose I shall accept your excuse.’

 ‘Is that you done for the night?’

 He tapped his quill thoughtfully against the woodgrain, which was already marked from many nights of doing such a thing, and nodded.

 ‘Thanks be to all the gods.’ Charles extinguished the candle.

 In spite of Edwin’s not-inconsiderable pride, even he had to admit that he was in need of assistance. Charles would never judge him- in fact, he delighted in any chance to express his affection- but it was still a hard habit to break. Trusting someone truly had been a foreign concept to him prior to their meeting.

-

 ‘Oh, it’s you again.’ Charles Rowland said, blinking blearily. ‘Am I dead?’

 ‘Not quite, though it was a near miss.’

 Edwin was surprised by the sound of his own voice. Now that he was not so focused on rescuing a stranger, he could hear the rasp in it, how quiet it was, and how the sounds felt strange in his mouth after so long silent. He had barely uttered a word during the duration of his imprisonment, having learned early on that it was better to keep his mouth shut and his wits about him.

 ‘Bugger, it’s cold.’ Charles noted.

 ‘Spending hours in the freezing elements would do that to a man, I imagine.’

 In a yet another surprise in the span of a minute, Charles laughed. Moreover, it was contagious, and Edwin exhaled something that might also have had an origin in mirth.

 That was the first time he had laughed in… well, rather a long time.

 ‘I’m Charles.’

 ‘Edwin.’

 And that was that.

For a while, the two boys chatted. They spoke of nothing much, and certainly not of the strange circumstances that led to them taking shelter in a shack in the middle of the Cursed Woods together, but it was lightheaded and funny in a way that Edwin was unused to. Warmth and laughter seemed to come so easily to the boy who had nearly frozen to death and was, at that very moment, unable to prop himself up on account of his injuries.

 ‘Don’t think I’ve seen you before. You been living here long?’

 ‘Only a few nights. The same night I found you, actually. Seemed a lucky happenstance that we should both be so close to shelter.’

 ‘Where were you before, then? Figured I would’ve remembered a face like yours.’

 Edwin’s cheeks coloured in a way that had nothing to do with the fire still happily burning in it’s hearth. The last owner had clearly been used to snowstorms, and had stocked up accordingly. 

 ‘I was in the Fae Realm.’ He replied simply.

 Charles’ eyes widened. ‘No way. The Fae Realm? They actually let you go. Wow. You don’t hear of that happening too often.’

 ‘They didn’t let me go. I escaped.’

 ‘Woah, woah- hang on a tick- I’ve heard a lot of tales in my time, but that might top them all. People don’t just escape from the Fae.’

 ‘I’m quite aware of that fact.’

 ‘Must’ve been hard.’ His features softened. ‘How long were you there?’

 ‘A few years, I believe. It was Spring when I was- taken.’

 He hesitated just a moment before choosing his words. He could have mentioned being a sacrifice, or that he had been driven out of his own home, but in spite of inviting a known criminal into his home, he still possessed at least a shred of self-preservation. He did not need to alert this boy to his own strangeness.

 Charles fidgeted with the edge of Edwin’s cloak. ‘The Fae love messing with time- from what I’ve heard, anyway. Love a good story.’

 ‘I’m sure my own is not as interesting as the others you have heard.’

 ‘Try me.’ He grinned.

 ‘Perhaps some other day. This storm shows no signs of stopping.’

 Charles’ smile faded. ‘Right. Yeah.’

 For a while after, it was quiet. Edwin supposed his companion had fallen asleep. Instead, Charles said;

 ‘Hang on. Can I ask you something?’

 ‘Mmm-mm.’

 ‘Who’s on the throne?’

 He blinked. ‘Queen Esther.’

 Upon hearing that, Charles attempted to sit up. He hissed in pain, and Edwin wished he wouldn’t aggravate himself. 

 ‘You will do yourself an injury.’ He chided.

 ‘Bit late to be worrying about that, eh? My back’s a bloody whetstone, if you’ll pardon the wordplay.’

 Edwin gave him a look, but helped Charles rise to something approximating sitting, even if he was quite heavily leaning on him whilst attempting not to jostle his back or shoulder.

 Any levity was broken by Charles’ next statement. ‘Edwin- Queen Esther’s dead.’

 ‘What?’ Edwin furrowed his brows. ‘You must be mistaken. She seemed quite healthy, and from what I hear, she was quite skilled at avoiding plots against her life.’

 ‘No, she’s definitely dead and buried and dug up again and they put her head on a spike, but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, it’s not just that she’s dead, she’s been dead for five hundred years.’

 Unable to hide his surprise, Edwin exclaimed; ‘That’s impossible. I was not gone for so long.’

 ‘You said it yourself- the Fae love messing around with time. A couple years for you was a couple centuries for everyone else.’

 Charles was looking at him with something akin to sympathy.

 Edwin pressed his fists together.

 ‘I’m sorry.’ Charles said earnestly. ‘It’s a lot, I know. And it must be terrible to lose everything you knew. And all the people. I think I’d miss some of the people from my own era if I got flung far forward.’

 He shook his head, and Charles looked at him in confusion.

 ‘There was no-one.’ Edwin clarified. ‘And nowhere. I am as alone now as I have ever been.’

 ‘Hey. You’re not alone. You’ve got me, haven’t you?’

 ‘Yes, but you will be moving on as soon as the storm clears and you are ready.’

 ‘Let’s hope it lasts a bit longer, then.’

 Edwin almost smiled. ‘That is a strange thing to wish, for a boy who almost died out there.’

 ‘Yeah, well, I’m a bit strange.’

 ‘... As am I.’

-

 In the present, with the cottage far more furnished than it had been that night, the two of them got ready for bed. As easy as such a task was, Edwin found himself once again in need of assistance.

 Charles peppered soft kisses to his face, neck, and shoulders as he helped him out of his outerwear.

 It was a small comfort, but one Edwin cherished. Even with his own staggering immunity towards ailments of all stripes, he had been laid low by whatever he had absorbed from that warlock’s family. Despite the fact that said warlock was put out of commission by an oracle they were quite fond of and her sprite wife, Charles still looked just about ready to send the warlock to the grave again.

 Under the joy and warmth that Charles wore as easily as the gold in his ear, there was a streak of anger. Charles himself hated it, but, well, Edwin would be lying if he said he did not appreciate that that wrath was so often levelled on his own behalf.

 He believed Charles to be capable, astounding, and the best person he had ever known.

 He told him that sundry times.

 In his own time, Edwin’s soft heart and strangeness had earned him naught but scorn and his eventual exile. Over time, he had begun to see those parts of himself as a blight, as something to be destroyed or changed or otherwise transmutated into something that would not draw attention to him. Something that would not hurt him further.

 Charles had challenged that, and for that, he would always be grateful. He owed a lot more to Charles than he ever owed to him, even if he had technically saved his life on a blustery evening when neither of them had anything to offer the other.

 Nothing except companionship.

 And that was what they dearly wanted.

-

Charles wasted no time in explaining his sorry tale to his new friend.

 The short of it, as Edwin understood it, was that Charles, a disappointment to his father, the head of the Knight’s Watch, had been sent to the farthest, strictest faction. Charles flourished as a knight, and took to it naturally, but it all came crumbling down when he freed a prisoner. 

 Apparently, the man had been entirely innocent. The brutes in the brotherhood had taken exception to him for some strange reason, and that protective fire inside Charles was stoked to a full burn.

 For doing the right thing, Charles was stripped of his rank, flogged, branded, disowned, and thrown out into a snowstorm.

 Formally, it was an exile. In practice, it was a death sentence.

 No-one could have survived, alone and unsheltered, in that environment. The fact that he wasn’t a frozen corpse for the wildlife to feed on was a miracle.

 Once the snowstorm cleared, Edwin came to a realisation. Charles may have been stripped of his rank and knighthood, but the same traits that had made him such a natural at it were alive and well inside a good heart and a strong soul. Every knight needed a cause to pledge themselves to. Charles chose Edwin.

 It went without saying, then, that when the blizzard died down, Charles did not leave.

 Neither of them did. 

 Eventually, Edwin told him of his own tragic tale, and upon relaying the details was surprised to learn his life had been turned into a ghost story of sorts. The details had been lost to time, and the particulars shifted with each telling, and so the version that reached the ears of listeners had little in common with reality.

 And yet, he liked it.

 In it’s simplest form, the Tale of Edwin Payne was a ghost story about a young lad who was cast out and is said to haunt the woods, never truly revealing himself.

 That was true enough, actually.

 As a freezing winter transformed into a blazing summer, they dared to venture out. Together, they faced giant serpents, evil witches, and saved townsfolk from beings that threatened to destroy them. Their reputation grew, as did their connections. As was his nature, though he did not know if he was born that way or crafted by his experiences, Edwin was unsure of strangers and disliked change.

 After meeting a rather charming sprite, he begrudgingly opened their door to more than just the two of them.

 Following swiftly on her heels was an oracle, a harpy, and an incredibly lost selkie.

 Their company was pleasant enough. Edwin stopped bracing himself for disaster, and Charles stopped bracing himself for the next blow. They had overcome a lot to make it to where they were, and both were prepared to fight tooth and nail to preserve it.

 To preserve their own happy tale.

-

 That night, they lay together with the sounds of gentle breathing and the crackling fire in their ears.

 The pain had finally run it’s course, and Edwin was fast on the way to a deep slumber. Still, before he could close his eyes and surrender to sleep, he made sure to press a soft but sure kiss to Charles’ lips.

 Words were his tool, but they failed to express just how thankful he was for his companion, and for everything they had accomplished.

 It seemed improbable that he should be so happy, so contented, and with so little to fear, and yet he was. And yet he was allowed to lie on a soft bed with the man he loved and be trusted to run his hand up the ridged scars of his back, many of which were from incidents long before the flogging that took him months to truly recover from.

 Neither of them could ever truly be free from their respective ghosts, but neither of them were as haunted as they had been prior.

 During quiet evenings, where they bound books or told tales or talked about the same old topics without ever tiring of the other, they knew that however rocky the road had been, however steep the cliff, how agonising each step in the journey had been;

 They were precisely where they wanted to be.

 And where they each supposed the other deserved to be.