#cw accidental misgengering

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 5

The pack discovers Dew is missing. Dew's journey begins, and he reflects on his past.

Rating: M Content: parental problems, trans dewdrop, accidental misgendering, self-hatred, gender dysphoria, dew makes decisions that hurt him mentally and physically, he's scared of rejection and also, potential starvation, found family, dew faces his past Words: 5105

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Quite a lore/backstory heavy one for Dew this week! I wanted to get a bit more plot in, but there's a fair bit of history and some other characters that need introducing first!

hi hi @revengeghoulette @everybodyshusband @rainsbasspick (an additional thank you for your advice on some basic horsey words haha!), as always tysssm for your interest in my silly little fic!!

Read below, or on AO3!

Dear Aether, Mountain, Swiss,

Don't wait for me, get out of here. Help Rain, but don't put yourselves in danger. They'll kill you too.

I'll be back when I can. I love you always.

Dewdrop.

“What does he mean?” cried Aether, “How can he just run off and leave like that?”

“I can't believe the selfish little bastard, after all we did for him!” Mountain growled, anger winning out over Aether's sadness at the fire ghoul's early departure.

"You don't mean that, Sprout.” Swiss tried to sooth him, wrapping warm arms around him from behind and pressing his warm nose in-between the taller ghoul's shoulder blades. His visions had stopped as Dew fled, the future too uncertain now even for his supernatural predictions. The numbness had caught him off guard leaving him feeling empty and hollow, stumbling outside to find his packmates. The sudden clarity felt sharp, like he had been doused in ice cold water.

They had discovered Dew's note soon after, propped up in the middle of the kitchen table. Aether had read it aloud, over and over until the words became noise in their ears and his voice disintegrated into choked-off sobs.

“I'll wring his scrawny neck when I catch him!” angry tears started to fall down Mountain's cheeks. “He's doomed Rain and doomed us all!”

“I thought we were pack...” Aether whimpered, clutching the note to his chest.

Swiss's head still reeling slightly from the sudden departure of his painful visions, he found himself the one in greatest control of his emotions. He tried to push some of his own quintessence into the room to calm the situation down. His visions having stopped so abruptly made him uneasy, and he knew they wouldn't return until they left the farmhouse where their fate was sealed if they stayed. They had no future here, that was clear to him.

“Dew's right,” he ventured, ignoring the slight growl from the earth ghoul in his arms, “we have to get out of here, we're all dead if we stay.”

Aether sniffed and nodded slowly. Mountain seemed like he wanted to resist further, but eventually huffed out a sigh, before turning to look at Swiss.

“So we leave then. Let the village destroy everything we've worked for, and hope it's not too late for Rain.”

Swiss nodded solemnly. “I don't see what else we can do. As long as we sit here, I see only nothingness ahead. We can camp out somewhere, and decide what to do from there.”

“We were wanderers before, we can do it again.” Aether whispered, getting to his feet. Swiss felt bad for pushing him when he seemed so close to cracking apart, but there was a clock ticking over their heads for as long as they stayed here.

“Let's pack up and leave, the sooner we get out of here the better, for us as well as Rain.”

Mountain reluctantly agreed, albeit with a scowl. “If Dew wants to take his chances on his own, he's welcome to.”

~~~~~~~

By the time Dew reached the nearest stables, his ankle was already screaming at him again in pain. Aether’s magic could only do so much, and Dew had pushed it past its limits. He had skirted round to the eastern edge of town, heading for the main path that led away from the village and up to the cold northern shores. The constant pounding of his footfalls against the dry and cracked earth made shooting pains lance up his calf with every step, and he cursed himself for pushing it so hard even once he was out of view of the farmhouse.

The sun was beginning to set, so Dew sat down under the leafy canopy of a tree to watch and wait until it was darker. The stables were old, leaning against a sandy-coloured stone building that looked as though it had been standing since humans first walked the earth. Still, it seemed cosy inside, the smell of dinner wafting out of the chimney alongside the curl of smoke from the fire. His stomach growled at him, the tempting aroma reminding him of how limited his own rations were. Dew saw the farmer emerge to call in his dog for supper and used the distraction to make a run for the stalls where the horses were kept.

Entering the lean-to building, the dark chestnut horse nearest the entrance looked over the half-door at Dew with curiosity in their dark eyes. Further into the outbuilding, a dappled grey horse bared their large teeth at him with a snort. Dew didn’t have a death wish, so he snatched a blanket and saddle from the wall and began tacking up the chestnut horse. The final hurdle was the thick chain connecting the horse’s halter to an iron ring in the wall which Dew easily melted through. The horse whinnied nervously at the smell of smouldering metal, but was easily placated by a gentle stroke to their nose. Dew grabbed a few more items he thought could be useful and filled the horse's saddlebags, stuffing his own knapsack in on top.

As quietly as he could with all the brass tack jangling, Dew led the horse outside. She, he deduced, waited patiently next to a mounting block for him to scramble inelegantly into the saddle. Checking over his shoulder that he hadn’t been spotted, he gently nudged the horse to begin walking out of the yard, back onto the road. She snorted anxiously at travelling in the near-dark, but Dew kept the pace slow and encouraged her gently, one step at a time.

He knew there was a river a few miles out from here, and shelter that was well hidden from the path. It was out here where Aether and Mountain had found him, after all. The deep green trees full of summer leaves formed a canopy overhead, and the path was soft underfoot from those leaves that had fallen early. In the twilight, Dew finally spotted the small clearing alongside the river that he was looking for, and the camouflaging greeery at the edge of it.

Dew encouraged the horse to drink from the stream, before retreating to the cover of the thick shrubbery. Looping a length of rope he had stolen around a tree trunk, Dew tethered the horse to it for the night. He emptied the fistfuls of hay he had also taken onto the grass in front of her, before settling down under the saddle blanket in the shadow of the bushes. Dew always rose with the sun, and then they would be on their way.

The next morning while the sky was still pale grey, Dew was on his way further north towards the only salvation for Rain and the pack that he could think of. The horse beneath him trotted along happily as he ate his meagre breakfast of dried meat and water in the saddle. He was making good pace, travelling with a well-bred horse and a slight knowledge of the paths. It was a stark difference from when he had made the same journey in reverse all those years before. Then, he had been on foot, exhausted, and any plan beyond survival had been long abandoned.

Dew thought back on his old life as they travelled, on the many previous chapters he had tried to supress. Back to his early life as a kit; unloved and used as a pawn in his mother's mind-games. He had never known his father, the water ghoul long gone by the time Dewdrop was old enough to walk and talk. Even his mother, a fire ghoul born to parents with strict views on elemental purity, had only known him superficially before he left.

An act of youthful rebellion, her brief romance with a water ghoul had ended shortly after Dew's birth when he fled back to his original clan. Ghouls inherited their elements from their mothers so the fire kit was raised amongst his own, but with a conspicuous water ghoul name that made him stand out as a target. As Dew had gotten older he had realised just how much resentment his mother had for him, and how he had ruined her young and flighty life. The realisation that his existence was merely a tool to further antagonise his grandparents had made his decision clear and Dewdrop had left his home clan as early as possible.

Life hadn't gotten much easier from there. A young ghoul, alone in the wilderness, Dew weakly struggled onwards following a faint mixed ghoulish scent towards what he hoped was a friendly clan. After several hungry and cold months of wandering, he had found himself outside a grand Abbey on the northern coast, the tall oak doors with carvings of the elemental symbols daring him to ring the brass bell nearby.

The tall air ghoulette who answered his call wore a warm face, in contrast with her militaristic uniform. She had led him inside by the hand, bringing him to a room brightly lit by candlelight, with a roaring fire in the hearth. She'd brought him food, water and a blanket, even offering to help brush the tangles out of his long hair. Dew had wondered if he was so exhausted that he was hallucinating; he'd never been shown this kind of care in his life. The gentle fingers on his scalp were sending him to sleep, when there was a quiet knock at the door.

“Come in Lus, we have a guest!” called the ghoulette softly, setting down the hairbrush.

Another ghoulette entered, wearing the same black uniform. Her white-blond hair bounced round her shoulders like a cloud, and she had the same caring smile.

“Hello!” she'd dimpled at him, “I heard of your arrival on the winds, what's your name?”

"Dewdrop, Ma’am.”

She pulled a face at the formality of his reply, her peal of laughter sounding like bells chiming in the wind. “That's quite enough of that! Call me Cumulus. I hope Cirrus is taking good care of you?”

Dewdrop nodded shyly, letting his hair fall in front of his face to hide from her inquisitive blue eyes.

“Great! I'll tell Copia that the new ghoulette is settling in well, he can't wait to meet you!” Before Dew had a chance to correct her, she'd spun around and flounced back out of the room.

Dew knew all too well what he looked like, knew what he smelled like to other ghouls, but it still stung. He hated what his physical vessel implied; especially after the months of malnutrition and living in the woods. His increasingly skinny, bird-like frame didn't exactly scream big tough ghoul, nor did the security curtain of long blond hair he hid behind. They had seen what they thought was a young ghoulette, alone and scared on their doorstep, and Dew had done nothing to correct them. Still, it hurt.

Dew bit his tongue for now – he was too grateful for the hot meal and promise of a warm bed after so long outside to jeopardize his place here, if ghouls weren't welcome. He had spent so many years of his earlier life denying who he was, and having received easy acceptance among his birth clan once he had told them, he had gone and thrown all of that away to go and starve in the woods. How selfish. Maybe he deserved to suffer a bit longer, he thought, for running off and being so utterly useless at life that he had become a burden, yet again.

Smelling the anxiety rolling off him, Cirrus started purring reassuringly and picked up the hairbrush again.

“Don't worry, Copia's no one to be afraid of. He probably just wants to see if he can recruit you into the choir!”

Dewdrop stayed quiet and let her calmly braid his hair with precise fingers. The warmth of the fire continued to seep into his bones, and he felt his strength returning. Soon, he could be on his way again and this would just be another in a strong of upsetting memories.

From that day forward, the pair of air ghoulettes had treated Dew like one of their own. They showed him to a small room, sparse but cosy, and told him he could stay as long as he liked. Over the coming weeks as he recovered – slower than he would have liked – Dew had discovered that the Abbey was a safe haven for those without pack or clan, those persecuted by the humans they walked amongst, and even just those who wanted to learn about and spread the Dark Lord's word. Run by a distinctly ghoulish-scented human, who Dewdrop suspected might be more similar to him that the man realised, they spread His message through song, and housed the largest library of unholy texts Dew had ever seen.

Eventually, he'd found there were other ghouls around, not only ghoulettes, although they were fewer in number. Every day, Dew thought about correcting them, telling the air ghoulettes that he was actually a fire ghoul, but every day something stopped him. They’d done so much for him since he had arrived; from the start they had treated him like pack, and he knew deep down they would most likely take the information well. Dewdrop felt like he’d gained two older sisters to watch over him and guide him in this new life, and he couldn’t stand the thought of admitting that he’d been lying to them the whole time. The voices in his head telling him he was pathetic for not managing life outside without starving were the same ones that screamed him how he would be betraying their trust, having waited so long now to say anything.

Living at the Abbey could be wonderful, he would be stupid not to see that: if he could just come clean and inform them that he was actually a ghoul, and not a ghoulette, he knew he could make a good life here. He sang with their choir, the euphoric feeling of praising Him with music nothing like he’d ever experienced before. The library too, was a new discovery to him. The librarian, a water ghoulette called Mist, had taken a shine to him and helped him decipher some of the oldest texts. Dew had never felt such a kinship with a water ghoul before, and his curiosity about her, and by extension what his own father may have been like drew him closer to her.

With Mist’s help, Dew learned a great deal from the library. From some basic knowledge about what plants he could forage and how to set traps for small animals, he had progressed to reading ancient tomes on ghouls and their nature. He learned how to adjust his scent and mask his more ghoulette-like features; how to craft the changes to his form he so desperately wanted. He studied hard until he was able to bind them to him, much like the chosen glamour all ghouls wore around humans. Mist directed him through the maze of bookshelves with practiced ease, and recommended texts with a confidence that he thought could only have come from prior experience.

Despite Cumulus, Cirrus and Mist’s unwavering care and support, Dew felt himself nearing a breaking point. The longer he stayed, the more he felt like his lies were swirling endlessly around him. The spiral descent into self-loathing felt unstoppable, like the easier option was to just leave and take his lies with him. It became clear to him that he would not be able to stay here, and stay sane. Although he was still weakened from his previous attempt at a solo wandering lifestyle, Dew trusted in his new-found knowledge to keep him safe.

He could not have been more wrong. Dew had told no one he was leaving, simply slipping out the main gate into the early morning fog. He’d walked for miles, the freshly-healed blisters on his feet ripping back open and the damp air penetrating every fold of his clothes, sapping the infernal heat from his body. Even with his painstakingly copied diagrams, his traps failed. He’d read pages and pages on edible plants, but recognised next to none amongst the flora that grew along his path. Try with all his might, Dew hadn’t succeeded in catching a single fish.

A few weeks into his slow and painful trudge south, Dewdrop found himself following a river. He’d come across a few human encampments along the way, stealing food from them when he could, making tea from leaves and bark to fill his stomach, but was empty-handed and starving again by the time he reached a small clearing edged by tall shrubs and trees. He sat behind the bushes, watching the road. Dew had no strength left to hunt, so he curled up to desperately hope a foolish traveller would make a camp he could steal from in the clearing in front of him.

There was no other way out for him now; he’d waited too long and travelled too far to make it back to the Abbey with his tail between his legs, either he would steal food for one more day, or he would starve. Dew didn’t want to be returned to the pit like that: he had heard of it happening, ghouls who failed to take care of themselves being pulled back to His realms, but he was scared. He only knew life on the surface and, as painful as it was, it was home.

Dew hugged his knees to his chest and tried not to cry. He’d failed at everything; thrown his best chance at life away and for what? To starve alone in the woods. As his sniffed back tears, he felt a strange scent tickle the back of his throat. It was sharp like the air before a thunderstorm, yet calming like lavender and chamomile. He took a deeper breath. There it was again, and behind it the deep, earthy smell of damp forest floors, cut through with the lively, resinous scent of pine sap. Dew felt the hairs stand up along the back of his neck, and a tingling in the base of his glamoured horns. Could it be… other ghouls?

He stumbled to his feet, using the last of his energy to force out a submissive, non-threatening scent. Dew started tracking the scent, following it down to the river’s edge where he could smell it drifting downwind from the north. Had they been following him? He hunkered down in a defensive couch, in case the ghoul, or ghouls, were hostile. Dew heard them before he saw them, a pair of male voices carried towards him on the breeze. He locked on to the sound like it was a lifeline. They sounded casual, relaxed.

Two tall ghouls came into view, although they looked distinctly human with their glamours in place. They paused at the edge of the clearing, going silent as they clearly smelled Dew before they spotted him. Dew huddled to the ground suppressing a shiver, from cold or fear he wasn't sure. Quiet voices drifted towards him,

“Is that a ghoul?”

"Maybe a kit? They look tiny...”

Dew tried to keep his eyes glued to their feet as they cautiously moved closer, not wanting to look like he was challenging the much larger ghouls. An involuntary hiss escaped his lips at their approach making the pair pause slightly and look at each other, having some kind of unspoken conversation.

“He's all skin and bones, look at him he's terrified!” The slightly shorter of the two, a quintessence ghoul, exclaimed and broke away to move even closer with his hands outstretched, palms up like approaching a wild animal. Dew raised his eyes to take in more of the ghoul, and was struck by the kindness he saw in his facial expression.

Warm violet eyes crinkled down at him in concern, the only ghoulish feature on his disguised, yet weathered face. Dew made no move to stand; his legs felt disconnected from his body. The quintessence ghoul offered him a smile, as he joined Dew in a crouch on the ground.

“You’re not a kit, are you.” he stated. “But you do look like you need some help. I’m Aether, and this is Mountain,” he gestured at the earth ghoul who was still hovering awkwardly a few paces back, “what’s your name?”

“Dewdrop.” His voice cracked with disuse, ripping its way out of his throat.

“Well Dewdrop, let’s start by getting some food into you, shall we?”

Dew nodded guardedly, hardly believing the pair were real. The odds of meeting other ghouls, and friendly ones at that, were minuscule compared to the likelihood that they were merely the hallucinations of his desperate brain. With some more coaxing and a pair of strong arms, Aether helped him to his unsteady feet. The earth ghoul, Mountain, fished around in his pack and produced some rations for him to eat, while Aether unfolded a blanket from his own to wrap around Dew’s shoulders. He thanked them in a whisper.

“We live close by, if you’ll let us take you there?” Aether asked. Dew looked at him warily, before answering haltingly,

“I- I don’t know how much further I can walk.” he admitted. Everything about the pair seemed trustworthy so far, but they were still strangers, and could probably overpower him with a single finger in his current state.

“Nonsense,” Aether cracked an encouraging smile, “Mount can carry you!” The aforementioned ghoul made a show of flexing his arms as Dew turned to him, sceptical. Following them was one thing, but being willingly carried off to their den?

“Don’t look at me like that, little one,” the earth ghoul smirked, “my pack weighs more than you!”

That was precisely what Dew was worried about. Still, he didn't think he had many other options in his current state, and at least with the small amount of bread now in his stomach he might now have the strength to burn them with his element if he found himself in danger.

The journey in Mountain’s strong arms went by in a blur, as Dew tried not to think how pathetic he had become, to need to be carried like a kit. Dew saw them pass a stables, and then a montage of farmhouses and hedgerows that all blended into one as the gentle rocking motion began to lull him into unconsciousness. The earth ghoul was warm, warmer than he should have felt to Dew as a fire ghoul, but he slowly felt his own temperature recovering as they travelled. For the first time in a long while, Dew found himself beginning to feel almost safe.

The pair had brought him into their own farmhouse, a place that was sparsely occupied yet homely, in the way only long-time dwellings could be. Quintessence and – especially – earth ghouls were known to be solitary and nomadic beings, yet these two had clearly absorbed the best of the human creature comforts available to them. They soon had Dew warming up under a pile of plush furs and blankets in front of a roaring fire, recharging his dwindling internal heat. Fire ghouls were greatly valued for their ability to keep themselves and others warm in even the harshest conditions, providing they were healthy themselves, yet as soon as they became hungry or tired their internal fire was the first thing to suffer and could be challenging to reignite.

Mountain had brought him a bowl of warming soup, the light broth gentle on his stomach, while Aether sat nearby funnelling healing magic into Dew’s weak frame. In spite of their gentle care and kind actions, Dew found himself growing suspicious of how willing they had been to help him and invite him into their den and let him remain there. In his experience, lone ghouls never let a stranger encroach on their space without a reason: dens were for pack, potential mates, and prey. Then again, the ghouls seemed to go against every other expectation Dew held, by travelling together despite clearly not being mates and living in such close proximity to humans and their civilisation. Dew resolved to stay alert, and see what ulterior motive the ghouls had, if any.

Over the following weeks, things began to settle into a routine. Dew was feeling much stronger, and had moved into an empty room within the ghouls' farmhouse. He had to admit, they seemed to have a nice life out here. He'd seen the way they intermingled with the human population of the nearby village, how they had gained their trust. As far as Dew's desire for a fresh start was concerned, he seemed to be doing well. Neither Mountain or Aether had asked any questions about his past or why he had come to be starving and alone in the woods, and it didn't seem like it mattered to them.

Dew had learned that they had found him while returning from a week-long hunting trip. They had both been solitary ghouls for many years before meeting each other, and had bonded initially through a more transactional relationship as lookouts and allies before later becoming friends. For the moment, they had paused their transient lifestyle to see how a more settled existence would suit them, while still striving to keep their own survival and hunting skills fresh should they decide to move on. Mountain and Aether were clearly both more pack-oriented than usual for their elemental types, yet they were still independent, strong ghouls.

A month in however, they were still treating Dew with kid gloves. He knew he was perfectly capable of many things and was a quick learner despite his apparent ineptitude with survival skills, and it irked him that he was barely left alone with his thoughts. After Aether had insisted on joining him on his walk for the umpteenth time that week Dew had become snippy, reminding him that he wasn't a kit and could easily pace a lap of the field without his hand being held. Dew knew that his hot-and-cold attitude hadn't helped his integration into their lives, and Mountain especially had been suspicious of him for several more months. They were just trying to help a fellow ghoul – and a young one at that – not get returned to the pit due to their own incompetence, and Dew seemed to be plain ungrateful at times.

Dew wondered what they must think of him now; as he rode as hard as he could northwards and away from the village. He had to come alone, that was clear to him, and the others would have never let him go by himself if he had stuck around longer to tell them his plan. They must think he had abandoned them, selfishly escaping and leaving them to face Rain's fate and the village's wrath alone. They must be cursing his name; agreeing on what a pathetic excuse for a packmate he was, leaving their youngest hung out to dry in his time of need. Dew had never been the perfect packmate, he knew that, and at every step he'd let them down.

Mountain and Aether had bonded so quickly with Swiss when he arrived; rolling into the tavern one night, and into their lives and house the next, and then again with Rain when he arrived. With Swiss it was understandable that he would have a closer kinship with the older ghouls as they all had experience with the outdoor travelling lifestyle, and had a greater shared history of experiences. With Rain however, he and Dew had arrived in almost identical circumstances. Both were young and unused to the harshness of the world, both having been weakened by it. Aether had clearly tried to push them together, seeing the opportunity for both of the relatively withdrawn and private ghouls to find a meaningful bond with each other. Dew had never given Rain a chance however and had pushed him away, once again leaving Aether and Mountain to pick up the slack of introducing a new ghoul to their unique way of living.

Dew only hoped that he wasn’t too late to make amends, and wouldn’t be too late to save Rain. Only now, with the threat of losing them hanging over his head, did Dew realize exactly what was at stake and how much his pack meant to him. He hadn’t had a detailed plan when he took off towards the Abbey and was no closer to forming one now, but if anyone could help him find a way out of this mess for Rain, it was Copia and the ghoulettes. With knowledge well beyond his human years, perhaps he would know of an extra powerful incantation, one which could smite the village while leaving the ghouls intact. Maybe Mist could help them locate such a spell in the library, or a way for Rain to cheat death despite the mob’s murderous intentions? Dew was certain the five of them, regardless of their magic, wouldn’t stand a chance at saving Rain and escaping with an entire village baying for blood otherwise.

On the evening of the second hard day of travel, both Dew and the horse were tired and hungry. Dew had stolen food and hay when he could, but they were both beginning to flag. As they turned a bend in the road, the curling spire of the Abbey rose from the darkening treetops in front of them. It drew closer and closer, and Dew felt his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. He was scared of returning after so long, scared of the reception he would receive after the way he left. The Dewdrop of before had been too proud to ask for help and yet too desperate to assert himself, he had allowed himself to be squeezed into the box of their expectations to the detriment of his very identity and his happiness.

This time however, Dew was a different ghoul. He had grown in confidence through the kindness of his pack, and would allow himself to take up space. Most importantly, Dew had something which had been so sorely lacking in his life before: purpose. He had a pack to save, a reason to face his fears, and the determination to right the mistakes of his past.

As the horse skidded to a halt outside the imposing oak doors of the Abbey that he had sworn never to see again, he was finally prepared to do something he had never done in his life before. Dewdrop was going to ask for help.