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beerecordings · 2 years

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Werewolf AU - Part 11

It's six in the evening four days later when he hears Chase's phone buzz, and he knows it's time to go.

"That's them," calls Chase, all but rolling himself off the couch in his reluctance to leave the cushions. "Ready?"

"It's not really a big deal," he tries, one more time. "We don't have to. I can get new stuff."

Chase frowns at him, setting a hand on his hip. "We can't just leave your things, dude."

"Why not? I barely have anything there. I'll just buy more clothes."

"Schneep... you know what Sean said."

That he can't just let people scare him away from places because they hate werewolves. That his self-esteem won't survive it, if he lets other people push him out of spaces he used to belong in. Out of his own home.

He breathes out slowly, and gets to his feet. Okay, okay. He can do this. He's Jewish, he's a genius, and he's a grown-ass man. He can handle picking up his own damn things. Come on, Henrik.

"I'll stick with you," promises Chase, tugging on his sneakers as they head out the door, and Henrik is grateful for him, truly, because speaking of self-esteem, just having a guy his age with a genuine desire to be friends with him has done wonders for his outlook the last couple weeks. Not to mention the wolf part of him, which just about sings aloud in his head every time he goes to bed in the knowledge that he's safe in their territory or sits a little too close to Chase on the couch, sharing their scents.

The wolf likes the smell of Jackie's car, too, that pleasant blend of summer air and sweet smoke and mint coming together as the cousins turn to say hi to them with more color in their faces than Henrik's seen before. Marvin has his hair done up; his left hand clinks with cheap silver rings and leather bracelets. Jackie's shaved and his eyes gleam just as bright as Marvin's jewelry. He never seems to wear anything other than that one heavy red hoodie, even in the heat.

"Let's go get your shit!" he chirps, turning back to the steering wheel. The car itself is an old beater, a couple service engine lights blinking at him from the dash, but it runs just fine as they head down the road and towards the other side of town.

And Henrik feels better, in that car, with Jackie leading the way.

"Fancy neighborhood," purrs Marvin, glancing around at the stacks of shiny apartment buildings. "Close to the hospital. Is that when he got you? When you were walking home?"

Henrik blinks at Marvin, who turns to look back at him. "Yes."

"Bold wolf," rumbles Jackie. "Or not quite right in the head. There's streetlights and humans everywhere around here."

"Humans all over your building too," Marvin adds.

He's right. It's a warm summer evening, there's a playground in the center of the apartment complex, and everyone's decided to enjoy the night a little. Jackie pulls into a spot by the pool, and everyone turns to look at Henrik.

"Got your keys?"

Henrik holds them up, feeling overhot.

"C'mon, then, new moon."

He's up on the third floor, and there's no elevator. The hallway between apartments is open to the elements, filled with white city noise. It's weird, being here again, pushing the door open and flicking on the lights like he's just come home after a long shift. Everything's right where he left it, all perfectly in place, but quieter, somehow, than it was before.

"I thought you left here in a hurry," says Chase.

"Yeah, I haven't been back since before I was bit."

"So you just keep it this tidy?"

"I like things in their place."

"Where's the boxes, Marie Kondo?" Jackie pipes up.

"This closet. Same boxes I used to move in, so everything should fit."

They pack up clothes, some kitchen supplies, his hygiene kit, and then piles and piles of books, which is more embarrassing than he realized it would be. The others keep glancing at the titles with raised brows, looking at Henrik for a second, and then packing them away again without comment. They're just medical books, but there are a lot of them, in a few different languages, and on a lot of different topics.

"Don't you have any fiction?" complains Chase.

Henrik shrugs.

"Or, like, anything personal in this whole apartment?" teases Marvin. "There aren't any pictures or decorations at all. Your bedsheets are fucking white."

"I moved from Germany. Just brought what I needed for six months."

"So your place in Germany, it has your personal stuff?"

"Yes," he lies. "Anyway, leave the furniture, it came with the apartment. We're good to go."

"Don't you want to double-check all the drawers and closets?"

"No. I watched everything get packed up, and I know how much I own. It's all in there. I counted."

Jackie's face scrunches up in a confused way, turning to glance at Marvin, and Henrik's stomach stirs with that old feeling that he's about to get either mocked or politely put at arms' length.

Hanging out with people is so exhausting. For a second, he misses this apartment. It was so easy to hide up here, to just curl into bed and do nothing but read or cook or clean all night. Everything was so... ordered. He hates the chaos, now. He likes Chase's place, likes Chase, but he's never going to get the same control he had before until he gets back in a place of his own.

Fuck. Maybe moving in with Chase was a mistake. He should have gone to a rental. He really will have to go back to Germany, he realizes, looking around at his own little space. He can't stay with Chase, or with the others. The more he lets them know about himself, the more likely it is they'll realize he's weird, and he'd rather just go home with a pleasant memory about the one time he sort of made adult friends than be cut off or kicked out.

It'll be hard, leaving Chase now. But he has to get back to his own place, where everything goes exactly how it's supposed to, and the thermostat schedule is just how he likes it, and there are never dishes waiting in the sink.

"You okay, doc?" asks Chase.

Henrik blinks, coming back to the moment at hand. Chase is draped in suitcases, head tilted at him.

"Yes," he says, examining Chase's fond face, scattered in freckles. "Yep, let's go down to the car."

On their first trip down, there's no one but passing couples and sprinting kids.

On their second, people are watching them from the bench at the park.

On their third, there are doors open on the first floor, and people are glaring at them. Henrik makes eye contact for one moment with the ringleader of the angry little group, a big man who smells like bacon grease, staring at them from the door of apartment 102. He's whispering with some other guy from across the hall, and somebody's girlfriend is hanging out next to both of them, texting between glances at Jackie, Marvin, Henrik, and Chase.

Henrik tears his eyes away. A warm hand wraps around his shoulder.

"Don't worry about them," Marvin tells him. "Most of them are all bark, no bite. Let's just get the last of your stuff and get you out of here."

He nods, glancing at Marvin. The other wolf winks and squeezes his shoulder, leading him back up the stairs as Jackie and Chase come down it. But Henrik never makes it to the top - the sound of raised voices stops him in place, freezing him solid on the stairs. He hears Jackie answering calmly, something about how they're heading out anyway, but Henrik can't see them downstairs, doesn't know what's happening.

"Henrik," Marvin says. "The last of your stuff, man, okay? Let's get the last of your stuff."

Henrik can't move. Chase. He doesn't know where Chase is. He turns and races back down the stairs, darting into the hallway to stand beside Chase.

The big guy is closer, now, a finger pointing at them, the buttons of his polo straining as he raises his voice.

"You don't need four fucking wolves to move that much shit. There's no reason for a fucking pack to be here. There are kids right there in the playground."

"We're not here to bother the kids or anyone," replies Jackie. "Our friend lived here, now he doesn't. That's all."

"Well, he should never have lived here," continues the big man, turning to Henrik, his friend straightening up beside him too. "Hey! You're not welcome here. There are places for werewolves to live away from normal families. You should have known that."

Henrik stares, his heartrate picking up in his chest. He can't believe this is real. He's just... he's just Henrik. He didn't ask to be a wolf.

He remembers, vividly, the sound of Marvin laughing.

"Yeah, I'm an jerk," he told him. "But I'm not a monster. And neither are you."

Henrik's not here to hurt kids or families. He's never had a single urge to do that since he turned. His instincts want to run and follow nice smells and rub his head against another wolf's every now and then. His instincts want to shift, and be warm, and get food for himself and Chase. His instincts want to comfort Sean and follow Jackie and wrestle Marvin, mostly in a friendly way.

And for that, he's getting yelled at?

"Just back off," he roars, pushing in front of Chase. "We're leaving already, you dumb sausage."

"You want to say that again?" demands the man, shoving up into his space, but Chase is trying not to burst out laughing behind him, and it gives Henrik strength.

"Don't think I stuttered," he spits. "You're pathetic. I'm sick of people like you. Do you have any idea how many lives I've saved? Can guarantee you've hurt more kids than I have in your life, with an attitude like this. I hope that vigilante comes and bites your hands off, asshole."

Then the human puts his hand on Henrik, grabbing his collar and yanking him, and everything else in Henrik's mind goes blank. He snarls, grabbing the wrist of that over-sized hand, and a growl burns down low in his throat, his pupils blown and his teeth bared. He hears Chase growling behind him too, and it flames the fire in him like newspaper kindling, his body completely tense, waiting, waiting for this man to try anything.

There's no fear left. Just the fight.

"Paul!" shrieks the girl. His friend has fallen back behind him, eyes wide. Henrik's past the ability to recognize emotion, but he sees big eyes staring back at him from the enemy's face, too, eyebrows shot up.

Then a hand clasps his throat from behind, and he yelps, yanked backwards and pressed against Jackie's side. Jackie squeezes his throat hard enough to shock him bad, and he nearly crumples, gasping at the Alpha in surprise. At his side, Marvin is pulling Chase away from the humans by the collar, the last of Henrik's bags swung over his other shoulder, dragging him towards the car. Jackie follows suit, wrapping Henrik in a tight headlock before pulling him back to his car, barking a few last barbed words with the humans as they retreat. Henrik finds himself shoved unceremoniously into the backseat, trying to get his air back as the door slams shut beside him and somebody closes the trunk of the car.

"Go, go, go," chants Marvin, leaping into the passenger's seat.

Henrik tries to breathe. His mouth feels... weird. He lifts his tongue to explore and finds teeth much sharper than they're meant to be. His neck is warm with... fur?

"Henrik, calm down," snaps Marvin. "You are not shifting for the first time in Jackie's damn Cadillac, you'll freak out. Take some deep breaths with me, doc, in, out. In, out."

He just gapes at Marvin. He can hear Chase breathing heavily next to him, but when his eyes slide over, Chase still looks completely human, red in the face and broiling with the smell of flint-sharp rage.

Jackie pulls out of the parking lot under the watchful eyes of a species which suddenly feels distinct from Henrik's own.

"Go get yourselves some food," Jackie says, and everybody looks over at him like they don't understand what he's said. He unlocks the doors of the car and gestures at Marvin. "Take Chase. Go on. We'll be out in a minute."

Marvin gets out of the car, rounding it and pulling Chase's door open. Chase stares up at Jackie from the backseat, hands digging into the fake leather of his seat.

Jackie slaps the dashboard. "Go!"

Chase jumps up and gets out of the door. Jackie watches them disappear into a brick restaurant, Marvin wrapping his arm around the other wolf.

Henrik is quiet behind him. Nobody's talked the whole way to the restaurant.

"He hurt you?" asks Jackie.

Henrik doesn't reply.

Jackie blows out a long breath and gets out of the car, pulling open the passenger door and crouching down at Henrik's side.

"What is this place?" the new wolf mumbles.

"Ostensibly it's a Greek place. Really it's just an excuse for wolves to shove as much meat as they can inside bread."

"It's in the human part of town."

"There's definitely a werewolf part of town, but there aren't human parts of town, Schneep. We can live anywhere. Sometimes people just like to tell you we can't."

Henrik's head is low, his mouth parted, but he's not teary or shaky. His eyes are closed. He doesn't move. The fur and fangs have faded back into the body of a man, but the smell coming from him is pure wolf.

"Why did you grab me?" he whispers. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"No," Jackie agrees.

"You grabbed me like I was in trouble," Henrik bites, gripping his hands together, teeth gritting. "Like I did something bad."

Jackie reaches his hand out. Henrik snarls, more startled than anything, as it approaches his throat, but Jackie doesn't pause: he grabs Henrik's neck firmly between his hand and pushes him upright, squeezing his jugular. Henrik yelps, hand reaching up to grab Jackie's, but he doesn't try to pull him off.

They sit like that. Jackie can feel Henrik breathing against his hand, shallow but steady.

Then Jackie begins massaging the lines of his throat, pressing his thumb warmly against skin and muscle. Henrik's eyes flutter; his heartrate picks up, but his scent doesn't sour. Jackie rubs his neck patiently, waiting for the rage to seep out of him. He loves young wolves. They never know how to hide the smell of their emotions, and it makes it so much easier to understand them, knowing that if he ever gets confused, there's practically a sign pointing at them reading ANGRY.

"A hold on your neck," says Jackie, pressing hard into Henrik's throat for a moment, "is powerful. You know that. I don't take it lightly, to grab you like this. No Alpha should."

Henrik whimpers faintly, his eyes sliding shut again. Jackie pauses in his massaging and Henrik presses his throat against his hand, mouth pursing.

"I know it feels like discipline," Jackie continues. "But you were in danger. That's why I grabbed your neck. Because he could have hurt you, or could have gotten you arrested, or who knows what else. Because you were angry, and you are new to this, and I wanted to keep you safe. I'm sorry it made you feel bad."

He rubs his hand against Henrik's neck. Henrik sinks into the pressure whether he means to or not, scent getting sugary.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Jackie murmurs, and a spike of rainy relief cuts through Henrik's smell. "You're not in trouble. I wanted to keep you safe."

"Why are you still grabbing my neck, though?" mumbles Henrik.

"It's a massage," says Jackie, grinning faintly. "It's to show you you're not in trouble, and you're safe."

"I don't like neck massages," he manages through a half-purr.

"You do now," chuckles Jackie. "You're a wolf, Henrik, through and through. When you trust somebody, and they put your hand on your neck... when you know that someone could hurt you in one of the most vulnerable parts of your body, but they don't... when they touch you gently instead... that's a wonderful feeling."

"Why do I care if I'm in trouble with you, anyway?" grouses Henrik, though he lowers his head and lets Jackie scrape and push at the back of his neck too.

"I think you know already."

"Alpha instincts. You and Marvin - you are a pack now?"

"Yep. He really seems to want me, even after everything."

"And you'll take Chase too?"

The question surprises Jackie. He sits back, letting his hand fall away, and tilts his head at Henrik.

"I think this is just for me and Marvin," he answers after a moment. "I don't know Chase. He doesn't know me. Although I'm happy to keep an eye on the both of you as best I can until you settle."

"But where will he go when I'm back in Germany?" Henrik asks, eyes darkening. "Who will take care of him? And protect him if someone yells at him like that?"

Jackie sighs, touching Henrik's cheek for a second.

"Well, Schneep, that is a very pack-oriented question for you to ask. And I think you should consider what that means for you before you consider what it means for Chase."

Henrik gazes up at him with those big blue eyes, sharp as crystal but always a little sad.

"I think you're going to be a really good Alpha, Jackie," he says.

Jackie shakes his head, smiling despite himself. For a second, he touches Henrik's neck again, looking at the blue veins, and he's so glad, in that moment, that he found a reason to be an Alpha again, that Marvin gave him the courage. Because he knows Henrik has to go home, and that's alright, but to be able to protect him - to pull him from danger and then make him feel safe again - that's such a joy. To be able to care for others. To be cared for in return.

Henrik smiles back at him, and it's a little too sad for Jackie's liking. They're okay, despite everything. It's food time now, and they're safe together. So he darts forward and nips Henrik's ear, making him yelp, and then yanks him to his feet, laughing at his indignation.

"Come on," he calls, tugging him towards the restaurant. "I'm about to buy all three of you so much food you'll never be hungry again."

"No, you don't have to buy it," protests Henrik, but then they're shoving through the door, and fuck, that hot meat smells good. Jackie's mouth waters. He tugs Henrik towards the table where Marvin and Chase are sitting, crashing into his cousin's side and biting his ear too, just for the hell of it.

"Hey!"

"We okay?" asks Jackie.

Chase and Marvin both exchange looks and then nod. "Baby's first werewolf discrimination," sighs Marvin, and Jackie cackles as Henrik sits across from him. The waitress comes wafting towards him, and he recognizes her in an instant.

"Caleigh! I need a gyro yesterday. Hey, wait a second - "

Jackie and Marvin both straighten up, gaping at her.

"You smell like an Alpha," gasps Marvin. "You and Isaac finally - "

"Yes, fine." Caleigh rolls her eyes. "We got together."

"Yay," cheers Marvin. "Growing the pack, huh?"

"Power couple," agrees Jackie. "You two will have such cute puppies."

"Stop, stop! Just order! I thought it had been too long since I've seen you boys, until you opened your mouth."

They order food in a chattering list, which Jackie is pretty sure is a new experience for Chase and Henrik in and of itself. Humans will go get lunch, order a meal each, and sit back to enjoy. Werewolves, in Jackie's experience, order feasts. They're starting in on two different appetizers – crisp cajun fries in paprika and steaming stuffed mushrooms glowing with hot cheese – when Chase pipes up.

"That waitress was kind of small for an Alpha, huh?" he offers. "Or you don't have to be big?"

Marvin chuckles. "You don't have to be big, no, but it can help. It's rare for Alphas to actually challenge each other for anything that matters too much, although it does happen, and then you at least need to be a fierce fighter."

"But Caleigh's not an Alpha," Jackie adds, sipping an orange soda.

"What?" Henrik blinks at him. "She smells like one. All those pack scents at once."

"She's partnered with an Alpha," Jackie explains. "Her mate, Isaac, runs the place. She smells like him and the pack because they're running it together. Being the mate of an Alpha is a position of leadership within the pack."

"So sometimes there's two leaders?"

"Yes. The Alpha's the big dog, but their mate leads alongside them and supports them."

"And actually, big packs or widespread ones sometimes have extra leaders even if they're not the mate of the Alpha," Marvin fills in. "Jackie's dad ran the pack with Jackie's mom at first, and then after she passed, he made his best friend his Second, just cause we were big enough that two was better."

"You'll learn to tell the difference between an Alpha and their Second the more you're around them, but the smell's pretty close. Mates smell a lot like each other too, most of the time. From all that snuggling. And the more adult snuggling, if you know what I mean."

Caleigh comes back with baskets of lamb meat in soft white pitas, slathered in tzatziki, tomatoes, onions, and lettuce, plus a couple extra turkey sandwiches and a pair of big spinach and strawberry salads. The smell is so blessedly overwhelming, like his whole face is full of the scent, and Jackie closes his eyes just to enjoy it better.

“There's no way in hell we're eating all this,” Chase protests.

“What's this, a wolf with no appetite?” Caleigh says, in mock shock. Then she reaches over and ruffles Chase's hair like he's a real pup, laughing at his scandalized look. “Newbies. Jack McLoughlin must not be giving you lessons in appetite. I think you'll make pretty good headway.”

“Come on, puppies,” Marvin taunts them, shoving a gyro basket towards Henrik, who catches it carefully between his hands. “Nothing you can't run off. Why don't you let your wolf come out just this once?”

Henrik stares down at his sandwich, eyes narrow for a moment. He looks up at Jackie, blinking, and Jackie smiles back at him, letting the warmth seep into his scent, letting the satisfaction and surety and safety waft around the whole table.

“Okay, fuck it,” says Henrik. “Let's do this.”

There's not a lot left to take home afterwards, but the scent of that meal lingers like a good dream, and when they finish unloading Henrik's things afterwards, both of the new wolves come over and push their heads up against Jackie's neck, spreading the warmth between them. Chocolate and lemon and salt in the summer air.

“Hey,” he says, driving Marvin home in the twilight.

“Mmh?”

“I'm really glad we're doing this again,” he says. “I love being your Alpha. I love being a wolf.”

Marvin reaches over and squeezes Jackie's free hand tightly between his fingers.

#yayyy here's more #sorry if it's a little slow i felt like it was just what needed to happen next but there will be more excitement soon #werewolf au #discrimination tw #food cw

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docholligay · 2 years

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The Snow Queen, Part Two: A Wedding Invitation

If it was cold, something of it failed to reach into Usagi’s soul, bright as she was, and it was this particular quality that had drawn Seiya to her, a light in even the darkest of evenings. Seiya admitted she had been clumsy about it, at first, teasing and jesting and thinking she liked it all in protest. She had behaved like a schoolboy, and Usagi still poked at her over it all these years later, even as they prepared to marry, but it was always with that wink and a tease all her own. She was privately pleased she had caused Seiya to trip over herself.

Winter was entrenched, the winds whipping around the edges of the little shop where Seiya closed up for the night, though their songs hardly overcame the one Seiya held in her heart. The first of Summer. That was when they would be married. Usagi would be walking home now, having closed up the bakery and taking a few day old loaves to pick apart and scatter for the birds and squirrels as she walked. She worried about them, when Winter came and sat over the land. It was part of her charm, to love things others overlooked.

She pulled on the poorly but lovingly knit hat with the large pom pom onto her head, and headed down toward the center of town where Usagi would be, without question.

Seiya wished, somehow, that she was more the fascinating creature Usagi always acted like she was. She could carry a tune, and sometimes did, in the tavern where they went for a warm drink and a shared meal, and she was successful enough in her little business venture but at the end of the day, Seiya was only a chandler, and Usagi a little baker. It was only Usagi’s eye that made it anything more beautiful.

And, as she predicted, Usagi was standing in the square by the fountain, tearing off bits of pastry and tossing them to the birds and squirrels that surrounded the cool white stone, chatting to them about her day as she did so.

“How was Mr. Squirrel’s day?” Seiya sidled up next to her, grinning brightly.

Usagi looked up at her and wrinkled her nose in a delighted smile. “He said it was so much better now that he isn’t hungry.”

“I bet it is.” Seiya slung her bag over her shoulder and looked up at the old fountain, four goddesses standing in the center of it, posed in celebration. Mako, Seiya remembered, with flowers growing and twisting about her skirt and up into her hands, Rei, moving the cool rainy air along, leaves trapped in its tie. And then there were the two seasons that currently reigned: Minako, weaving the summer sun, and Michiru, dancing lace falling from her hands.

“I bet that’ll be beautiful when Spring comes.” Usgi chirped.

Seiya had not realized she’d been looking at the fountain for so long. It had not flowed any day of Seiya’s life, either frozen in Winter, or water too precious in the overhot Summer. In the cold bright of falling night, it seemed to gleam, not so much like a diamond as like the edge of a knife, long and cold.

She broke her gaze from the fountain.

“Usagi, Spring is a myth,” Seiya laughed, “I think it’s just something old people say, like how young people used to be more respectful, or berries used to be sweeter.”

Usagi shook her head. “My great grandma used to say when she was a little girl, she remembered there were whole months where it was cool in the morning, but warm in the afternoon, and the rain was soft, and it didn’t thunder when it came. She was telling the truth!” She narrowed her eyes. “How dare you think GamGam would lie to me, Seiya!”

She picked up a fistful of snow and threw it in an asymmetrical ball at Seiya who raised her hands but did not dodge, letting it puff off of her coat.

“Okay, okay!” She chuckled as she brushed herself off, “You win. Spring WAS real,” she gave a little bow to Usagi, “But it doesn’t really matter now. It won’t come again.”

Usagi looked to the cold black of the sky, dotted with little points of bright light, though no moon appeared.

“Someday Mako will come back.” the snowflakes fell into her hair, “Someday there’ll be Spring.”

“Oh, we believe in the goddesses, too?” Seiya arched an eyebrow.

It was a silly question--Seiya knew very well that Usagi was one of a fading group that believed the back and forth of Winter and Summer, in all its violence, was those old goddesses raging at each other. But Seiya loved to tease her nearly as much as she loved her. Usagi was a believer in many things, and for however little Seiya could believe in the Goddesses of the four winds, she could believe in the thing that Usagi was. That creature of belief.

Usagi crossed her arms and closed her eyes, sticking her nose in the air and taking her part in the pantomime.

“Someday she’ll come back. You’ll see. Maybe,” she grinned at Seiya, teasing now as well, “I’ll ask her to come back myself.”

Seiya’s laugh was loud and appreciative now. “Why don’t you tell Michiru to take it easy while you’re at it?”

Now it was Usagi’s turn to laugh, imagining that she could say anything to that great queen of Winter, intimidating even in the stories her grandmother told, first made into lace at the edge of her gown, eyes sharp and breath blowing huffs of vapor into the air.

Even as she laughed, she looked over to the river, cold and hard now, dead and still.

“I wonder if she knew it was an accident.”

She said this as though it were quite settled, and she had spoken to the river itself to confirm. We, of course, know the end to this story, and know that love must, in time, melt all things as does the dawn on a night’s frost, but Usagi and Seiya standing in the cold, could not have know this. It is hard to see the facts of a mater when all things could be true.

“Who?” Seiya had already moved on from the conversation, imagining only how she was going to convince Usagi to stop by the little pub instead of going straight home, eager to see her cheeks pink with the only roses Seiya saw in Winter, as she sipped the sweet hot ceyser.

“Michiru,” her eyes were still on the river, “you know the story. Gamgam said Mako tried to tell Michiru that it was an accident, that the river had only been playing, and she fell.”

Of course Seiya knew the story, just as well you do, but even if she believed it, the version of the story she had heard, Rei having been their patroness back when her family believed in such things--there was only her grandfather now--was that her lover had jumped in, a careless and headstrong fool who had seen a glittering thing at the bottom of the river, and not realized that Michiru cared not for the sort of things she could weave at the edge of her fingers. She had jumped in over her head and drowned

But Usagi could not see it that way, because Usagi believed in kindness and in beauty, truly a representative of the people of Spring, a time that would never come again and maybe never had, sure as Seiya’s Fall.

Seiya shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. If she exists--” she tried to let the word rest on her tongue decisively but kindly, “--then she wouldn’t care anyway. Usagi,” Seiya found herself suddenly wishing for a change of topic, “Why don’t you stop by The Acorn and Bloom with me? I’ll buy, even”

She flashed a winning smile, glittering harder than the river and pulling Usagi’s attention back. Usagi smiled slyly, in that way that indicated she had already said yes, but meant to play about it, in the old ways they had teased before they fell in love.

“Well, I don’t know,” she said, “I don’t know if I want to drink with people who don’t believe in Spring.”

She put her bag behind her back with both hands and put her nose in the air, pretending at being a princess she could not yet even know the sight of.

“I don’t need to believe in Spring,” Seiya rested her chin on Usagi’s shoulder and kissed her cheek, “I believe in you.”

Usagi smiled, though she tried not to, and looked at Seiya. “Well, you’re buying.”

Seiya flashed a few coins, and took her hand.

***

The Acorn and Bloom was small and cozy, covered in the dark woods of the forest, sconces against the way casting playful shadows that danced against the the brown whorls and eddies of the wood. The fire was at full height, crackling and popping along with the merry sounds of the violin and drum that played from the corner, the buzz of the crowd chatting amongst themselves a warm rhythm in the background.

Now, when I say that these times were different, and much harder, that the people lived between the fire and the freeze, all of these things are true, but it is not true that a life lived in difficulty is always a life lived in misery. The people of this place, even then, had stories and songs and warmth, and these are the things that keep people every bit as much as a fair season. And basking in the comfort of this joy were Usagi and Seiya, drinking cupfuls of hot ceyser in the corner, a large pie between them smelling richly of onions and stewed meat.

Usagi knew she should have gone home. Soon it would be time for her to get up and open the family bakery, passing her brother as he came home from doing the baking, Usagi putting her hair up in bright pigtails before she served her customers, boxes ready for her favorite clients who came in every day. That sun would peek over the hillside all too early, throwing rainbows off the cold snow into the sky.

Even Winter was beautiful, she thought.

But in the moment, it did not seem to matter. Seiya was growing tipsy, but with pleasantness, and the night was cozy and full, and tomorrow’s problems were for tomorrow’s Usagi.

Seiya took another deep swig of the ceyser and reached her hand across the table to Usagi.

“Dance with me!”

Not waiting for an answer, she swept her onto the floor, leading her about confidently as the music continued around them, in perfect step with the other dancers, all whirling about the floor like the snowflakes that fell outside. Seiya spun her and she laughed as she fell half-clumsily into Seiya’s arms, easily caught as thought she weighed nothing at all, her cheeks pink and the warmth of the fire caressing her gently.

The music stopped, and Seiya kissed her deeply, and Usagi thought herself perhaps the luckiest girl in all the world.

Now, of course, we know that she was not, for stories are not told about the luckiest among us. For it is true luck never to have adversity scratch at the door, to never know such fear that you must gather your courage, to never have a single thing to overcome. Greatness is not bestowed, my dears, it is clawed out of the ground in the cold and damp.

But Usagi still thought herself lucky, and as to yet, there was nothing in the world that should have made her think any different.

A man chuckled at the two of them kindly, and raised his glass.

“Don’t let the Winter Witch see you two so hell-fired happy, or she’ll put a stop to that, mind you.”

He meant nothing by it, one of those things people say offhandedly, only meaning to comment on the radiance of their joy against the winter��s chill, and he would feel regret for the rest of his life at how one careless thought became several, and how several became a journey and war laid at the feet of a chubby blonde baker.

Seiya’s eyes narrowed, emboldened by the geyser, and she gave a low chuff.

“If she wants to come, let her come. Let her come here! Let her come to our wedding! I don't care.”

The statement settled all talk in the pub, the only sound now the whispers of the snow and cold outside. This only seemed to make her more brave, or make think that she had to seem so, and she smiled.

“If the big scary Snow Queen, Winter Witch, Michiru, whatever her name is, wants to come and try to get between me and Usagi,” She held Usagi’s hand more tightly. ‘Let her try. You know what I’d do?”

She grinned at Usagi. Seiya was playing, Seiya was joking, saying was being a bit of an ass and a braggart in the way she always was, and everyone knew she never meant harm, but Usagi felt a deep pit in her stomach open.

“I’d throw her in the fire and melt that witch’s cold heart into a puddle and drink it.”

It was bold and it was coarse, and it stayed the crowd for a moment in silence. The music held, no one spoke, even the scents of the food seemed to quiet as the claim held in the air.

And then.

“Kou, quick question, do you ever shut up?”

And with peals of laughter, including from Seiya herself, the room settled back into its merry mood, the violinist struck up again with a peppy tune, and Seiya accepted a warm mug gratefully. Usagi shook her head, reminding herself to bring Seiya a raisin roll and a dose of chiding the next morning. Silly girl.

The music reached higher, and the wind outside began to gale harder and harder against the sides of the pub, screeching as it whipped around the sides of the building. The conversation went on, and the music, but Usagi felt a cold come into her bones that was not from the windows, and not from the sill of the door.

The door burst open, the cold wind behind it, stopping all conversation and dancing, still as statues, staring at the flung open door, the one with the stiff catch to guard against the cold.

The wind stopped.

The wind stopped, and frost began to creep, winding and turning delicate loops and elegant weaves across the dark floor. The eyes of the pub did not move as it slowly wound its way, stopping here and there before moving on, branches of it investigating dark corners like a vine. The frost seemed untouched by the warmth of the room, glittering brightly in the firelight until each tendril began to turn and move its way over to Seiya Kou.

Usagi tried to stand in front of her as they came, and Seiya held her tightly as the room could only be held in rapt attention, until finally the delicate cursive invitations of a language held deep in mystery and shadow reached the feet of Seiya Kou.

Not a single breath was taken in the pub. A pause. Silence reigned. The wind did not howl, the wood did not creak, no bird dared speak a word as they watched the frost at her feet.

Then there was a great puff of air, and a great burst of cold, and every candle on the walls and on each table went out, daggers of ice sent into the fire, plunging the room into a cold, smoky darkness. There was the sound of shattering as glasses of beer or ceyser or mulled wine exploded in warm hands, the pot of soup froze solid in the kitchen, and every soul breathed fog into the air.

The onslaught stopped as soon as it began, snow and ice and wind whirling out the front door and slamming it closed, leaving only the darkness.

Usagi felt for Seiya, worried she might be gone, but her hand was there just the same, her eyes wide in the moonlight. Someone struck a match and lit a candle, casting shadows against the wall, though this time, they stood still. The dancing had ceased.

In the darkness, a voice like the tinkling of sleigh bells.

“Arrogant fool.”

#I'll have the third part finished this month

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