Drops in the Lake [Aberdeen/Faolan]

[qhostqrowls]

It had been a week since he’d been brought here. Maybe two. The eternal twilight of the realm made each miserable day blur into the next, and his only indication any time had passed at all was when his tormentors came to visit.

They came by frequently, but inconsistently enough to keep him wondering when they’d appear. Sometimes it was both of them, sometimes only one. He wasn’t sure which of them was worse. Two sides of the same coin, equally impossible to reason with, equally smug, equally cruel. Warren at least appeared to enjoy his pleading. The pooka didn’t seem to hear him at all.

Faolan kept his head down as he walked, arms crossed, his heart thudding frantically with each step he took away from the hall. The mist - a constant veil over the realm - curled around his sneakers, and the doctor glanced over his shoulder at the snap of a twig, expecting to see a hulking, dark haired figure stalking after him.

But there was no one there, and he plodded forwards aimlessly, just wanting to get away from it all. From the stares of the other humans, their questions, their fear and their anger and everything else he had no idea how to handle.

He was the only one here who had known about the supernatural world before his abduction, and the weight of their expectations was like a noose around his neck. He could feel his time sliding away like sand between his fingers, and today, something in him had snapped and broken at the thought of it.

Warren or the pooka would come after him eventually, and he’d likely be hurt for daring to leave the court. But he couldn’t bear to rot in there for another second, and so he continued forwards through the trees, already lost and not caring where he wound up.

[NightshadeVII]

The realm was neither kind nor benevolent. The deeper Faolan went, the more it seemed to toy with him. In the distance, he might see the forms of his boyfriend, his mother, his friends, disappearing around a corner as soon as he got close- or he might hear their voices, laughing joyfully and calling out to him, telling him they missed him, that they cared for him, that he would be safe if he could just get to them. Whenever he next saw those familiar shapes they would be a little closer, their features a little warmer, their voices a little clearer. The illusion of progress.

Yet with every step he took into the foreign realm, the space twisted invisibly around him, leading him in circles on a whim, looping hallways, before driving him deeper into the tangled web of halls. Within the mist, roots reached out to snag at his ankles or his shoulders whenever he stumbled too close to a wall. Maliciously, claustrophobically the walls threatened to close around him, like jaws snapping shut, yet hid it all behind silvery mist and pleasant lies that urged him to take just one more step.
Further from the evil he knew- closer to the evil that was so thoroughly unknowable.

~~~

As always, Aberdeen’s goals elluded him. Geirvaldr was nowhere to be found, Valka was busy wrapping members of the foreign court around her fingers and Eike toyed with whoever he could get his hands on. The rest of the court avoided him like the plague, stealing glances and trading in whispers. So little had changed, it was maddening.
His fingers drifted across the surface of the lake from below, tracing the artificial starlight dancing across the waters. The movement was absent-minded, like a moth drawn to flame, he always, forever chased the unobtainable. Such was his nature.
He had begun to wonder if he should just give up, if his ideas of freedom and revenge were just childish ambition. After all, he hadn’t truly been able to escape during his almost eight hundred years. What made him think anything would change now? Had he learned nothing of his past?

Suddenly he was pulled away from his thoughts as the realm stirred around him, hackles rising to signal an unknown arrival. It was not someone from his court, Aberdeen knew this instantly, and surely even the shapeshifter that had dragged him here would be familiar to the realm by now.
He rose to the surface without a sound, scanning the mist shrouded clearing. Then he spotted the blonde hair, bright and golden in the gloom. Clearly, whoever this was had not obtained the court’s favor, considering how he was walking dangerously close to the edge of the lake and seemingly not noticing it at all. The nøkk walked silently out of the lake, not bothering to change his form to something more pleasant.

Dark and formless, the nøkk followed behind this intruder like a second shadow, always staying just out of sight. Curious, that a human managed to wander so far into the realm on his own while not visibly compelled to do so. The nøkk tilted his head, studying the blonde figure. Though unaffected by the mist himself, Aberdeen could see the vague echoes of the illusions of loved ones that played out before the blonde’s eyes.

Clad in a dark cloak that melded with the water and an inky veil that hid his true face- with only the faint glow of his eyes visible through the cloth, the nøkk’s form was obscured, the strangeness of his fae body hidden from view. He was a suggestion of humanity and little more.
How easy it would be to take this human’s life. Reach out and snap his neck or drag him into the depths of the lake. It would be instinctual, customary- exactly what was expected of him. The realm, a terrible creature in its own right, superimposed its desires upon him, blurring the lines between what Aberdeen wanted and what the realm told him it needed.
Which was all the more reason not to act on those impulses. For now at least.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”, he finally spoke when he was directly behind the blonde intruder, his voice more of an echo than anything else.

[qhostqrowls]

The mist thickened as he walked, and each step he took was more hesitant than the last. Faolan turned in a slow circle, glancing down the endless stretch of the hall. It looked the same as the last, but there was nothing else to do but keep walking into the labyrinthine depths. At least he was finally alone.

That changed with the next turn he took, and Faolan drew back at the sight of a figure in the distance. The supernaturals here knew he was claimed. Whether or not they cared was something else entirely.

But instead of stalking forward, it held out a hand. A familiar bracelet glinted in the silvery light.

“There you are, Faolan.” It said, and it was like a stab to the heart. It spoke with Edge’s voice, and through the veil of the mist he could see its features were a perfect imitation. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

He stared, for a long moment, vision slowly blurring. As if he hadn’t suffered enough - it had to taunt him, too, with the one person he missed the most.

“I’ve missed you. Let’s go home.”

It echoed his thought with Edge’s gentle cadence, the slight lilt of his accent. He wanted to run to it. To pretend for just a second. But instead he turned on his heel, heart hammering, pressing a hand to his eyes even as it called out in that same soft, beckoning tone.

The figure appeared again and again, calling out apologies and promises and pleas. Sometimes with his mothers voice, sometimes his friends, but mostly as Edge.

He bit down hard on his tongue to stop the sting of tears, choking back his emotions. It didn’t help to know it was an illusion. It still hurt.

Water splashed against his sneaker, and Faolan was shaken abruptly from his spiralling thoughts. A lake. He stood unsteadily by the shore, head reeling, watching the lazy curl of fog off the water. There were probably several creatures lurking beneath the glassy surface, and he took a small step backwards at the thought.

The human whirled, startled, at the voice that was much too close and much more tangible than the whispers in the mist.

He stared into the faint glow of eyes behind the veil, his own wide and frightened. Its garb was almost beautiful, the branching jewellery like a crown atop its sleek, sodden hair.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude - I’ll leave,” He placated, stepping carefully backwards. His voice was raspy, muted - a ring of mottled bruises marred the pale skin of his throat, and the marks were almost dark enough to hide the bite wounds. There was a thread of resignation in his voice, and there was a tired, tense anticipation in the set of his shoulders.

[NightshadeVII]

Around them, the realm was quiet, as if holding its breath. There was only the gentle sound of lapping water and the faint rustling of reeds that was unsettlingly similar to whispering- it took on voices Faolan knew if he listened to it for too long.

Aberdeen just stared at the human as he rambled, a faceless, unknowable figure still deciding what to do with this intruder. The branches sprouting form his back, dripping gilded jewelry and gems, twisted high above his head, making it seem like he towered over the human. His skin was pale, looking sickly in the mist and a scar right below the heart peeked out from under the embroidered cloak.

“Leave? You couldn’t leave even if you wanted to”, the nøkk stepped forward as the blonde stepped back, “and I think you know that.”

The human’s fear was obvious, the wide eyes, the quick excuses. And yet, he was resigned, his attempt at escape half-hearted at best. The nøkk tilted his head as he studied the mottled bruises and half-healed bite wounds on the blonde’s neck, then he scoffed softly. The Irish court and all the ragtag memebers of the so-called “Cabal” were obsessed with claiming humans, either because of grudges or shallow entertainment- and some seemed to have made a competition out of just how obviously they could flaunt their ownership. Much to his disappointment, even members of his own court had begun to indulge in the practice, as if they had ever needed it.
So who had their hands on this one?

“Who are you?” Aberdeen tilted his head, “how did you get here?”
From the nøkk’s tone, it was clear that he wasn’t asking what the human was doing in the realm itself- he knew very well way fate had befallen the blonde- no, he wanted to know why he had ended up in this corner of the mist-filled realm, by this lake, so carefully tucked away.
Why had the realm even allowed it?

[qhostqrowls]

When it moved to follow him, Faolan stayed in place. He ducked his head a little, deferential, at the correction, and bit back a sigh. These things liked the sound of their own voices. But better a monologue than aggression.

He shifted under the weight of its stare and the questions, hesitating, suspicious. An old fairytale about the power of a name came to mind, and he was silent for a long moment as he considered his answer. It certainly wasn’t asking because it cared.

“I’m Fao,” He said carefully, his tone shallowly polite. “I walked from the courts hall into the forest, and…ended up here.”

It had a lilting accent - it wasn’t from the irish court, so mentioning that might make it lose interest. Realise he was someone else’s prey. 

[NightshadeVII]

Fao- a nickname no doubt. For a moment Aberdeen considered forcing the human’s true name out of him, not because it was particularly important to him, but just because he could. A petty act and nothing more.
Perhaps he really hadn’t changed these last two hundred years.

Aberdeen wondered if the human knew where he was, that he had only wandered from one court’s domain to another. No doubt the blonde had both heard and seen the illusions that the realm so liked to use to toy with the unwelcome, but did he know they were a product of the place itself?
A bitter sound, somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle could be heard from underneath the veil. The human was lucky that he hadn’t stumbled blindly into someone like Eike, who delighted in the games he could play with humans - but then again, Aberdeen wasn’t sure he was much better.

He moved quietly, cloth rustling as he lifted a ringed hand, a delicate bracelet encircled his wrist. Though the mist dulled colours, it was undeniable that the skin of the creature’s hand was discoloured, fading from an almost human pallor, to a murky green mirroring the plants of the lake. Cold fingers found the underside of the blonde’s jaw, lifting his head. Though the gesture itself was strangely gentle, the nøkk’s luminous gaze was anything but.
“And what did you think to find here, Fao? A way out or perhaps a quick death?”, he spoke casually, disinterested.

[qhostqrowls]

Faolan’s carefully neutral expression cracked, just slightly, as it raised a hand. A flicker of fear, the beginnings of a flinch. He willed himself to not shy away at the cold press of its fingers along his jaw, knowing the gentle touch was as much a threat as a hand around his throat.

“I’m claimed - I didn’t think I would find either.” The defeat in his voice was mirrored in the flat sheen of his eyes, and the subtle fall of his brow.

His gaze flicked briefly to the lake, and then back to the veiled blue of the creatures eyes. Drowning was a better fate than being torn to pieces. But for all his current apathy, he didn’t want to die, not at the hand of this creature or anything else in the realm.

[NightshadeVII]

There was something, a crack to pry open, a brief glimpse of a weakness to exploit.
Aberdeen noticed the beginning of a flinch that the human quickly brought under control and his eyes narrowed. The blonde was trying so hard to appear defeated rather than scared, golden eyes dull and yet he hadn’t surrendered fully, wasn’t ready to die.
Aberdeen couldn’t decide if he was impressed, intrigued or dissatisfied.

“And why should I care about that?”, the nøkk asked softly, though his words were cruel, “you could easily have stumbled into the lake on your own and drowned. Look around you, who would be able to claim otherwise?”
The weight of their solitude settled. There were no witnesses or interveners, no one that would remember the truth, should the nøkk turn on Faolan, take his life and spin a tale of tragic accidents. The creature’s nails dug into the soft skin of the underside of the blonde’s jaw, but not breaking skin.

This was his kingdom, this bottomless lake, the whispering reeds, the twisted plants and ghostly waterlillies. Otherworldly, almost dream-like. A place beyond hope. His domain.

Behind Faolan, the mist stirred and the human would feel the familiar weight of a hand, the warmth of a gentle touch, settle on his shoulder. The purple beads of a bracelet shimmered despite the murky light. Edge stood behind him, looking every bit himself, calm and kind and safe. A tiny piece of home. Amethyst eyes fixed on the creature in the gloom before them, brows furrowing with worry.

“You need to get away from him”, spoke Edge’s familiar voice, hushed and urgent, “he wants to hurt you. He wants to keep you here.”

[qhostqrowls]

Beneath Aberdeen's fingertips, the humans pulse quickened. He blinked up at him, his heart sinking at the bite of nails against his jaw and the lazy threat that followed. The fickle, ever-changing moods of the creatures here were as frustrating as they were terrifying, and he should have known better than to think he could guess what this one wanted.

But all he could do was guess, and he guessed that this one wanted fear. Too much might spur it into attacking. Too little might have the same effect. Might not work in his favor at all. There were too many ways it could go wrong, and Faolan felt a hysterical, detached kind of helplessness at the thought.

"Please," He began, hoarsely, swallowing the last tattered shreds of his pride. "I'm not worth the-"

He flinched at the weight on his shoulder, tearing his face from the nøkks grip to face the apparition. His expression crumpled, and finally broke. He couldn't stand to look at it, this perfect soulless shell of the man he loved, speaking with an empathy and kindness that was utterly absent from the realm.

He turned back to the fae, shoulders tensing.

”I, uhm-“

[NightshadeVII]

At first, the nøkk paid no attention to the illusion, much more curious about the human’s reaction to it. The blonde’s features twisted with pain, heartache, and longing shone in his eyes. Whoever the realm had chosen to torment him with, it was clearly someone important to him, someone he had strong feelings for. And perhaps also someone or something the realm wanted Aberdeen to see. Of course, he had never seen the man before in his lift, but he knew the realm too well to think anything that happened here a coincidence.

So Aberdeen’s gaze turned to the illusion, finally, seeing the faults in its mask, the ugliness of its nature. To the nøkk, it looked decidedly unreal, it’s eyes dull, its features rough and unfinished, like a half-carved statue or rushed portrait. It was meant to charm and seduce, to draw poor souls deeper into the realm, to keep them ensnared. In reality it was nothing more than a knife twisted in a wound, a means of tormenting the human and mocking the nøkk.
Beneath the veil, Aberdeen’s expression twisted into one of hatred.
If the realm wished to mock him, he would return the favor. In that way, he had never been the better person. He was as bitter and spiteful as the realm itself. But he supposed children tended to take after their parents.

His hand left the blonde’s chin and instead reached out towards the illusion. A myriad emotions flicked through the illusion’s dull purple eyes, rage at first - directed at Aberdeen - then, remembering its role, there was confusion, skepticism and finally terror. All of it was fake, of course, another of the realm’s games, tasteless. Unfortunately, he was not in the mood to entertain its whims.

“Wait- Wait, no- Don’t-“, the illusion sounded pained now, terrified, “Faolan, please- Help-!“
Beneath the nøkk’s hand the illusion began to fade, slowly at first, washing out like water-colour. Tears were wasted as it looked to the blonde, silently pleading, begging the human for help. It grasped blindly at the nøkk, unable to hurt him, unable to touch him, as it fell apart.

Like mist, the illusion fell apart between Aberdeen’s fingers, dispelled for now. A hushed silence fell over the clearing, deafening. And he stood there with remnants of an illusion in his hand, half-heartedly savouring his shallow victory, knowing he had changed nothing.

“Who was that?”, the nøkk asked coldly, letting his hand drop and returning his gaze to the human, “or rather, who was that supposed to be? No lies, Faolan.”

[qhostqrowls]

It’s not real, Faolan reminded himself, focusing on the creature - the real threat - staring hard at its face so he didn’t have to look at his partners, so perfectly mimicked.

His expression cracked again at the terror in its voice, and he turned his face away, almost imperceptibility, when the beast ran a hand through the apparition. His nails bit hard into the palm of his hand. It’s not him. It’s not real.

Even with the veil, he could see the subtle changes in the nokk’s expression. It’s anger was palpable, even in the way it spoke and moved. But the hatred wasn’t particularly directed at him, and it’s sullen, bored demeanour reminded him of something caged, pacing angrily, lashing out. If he didn’t redirect that anger, it would be taken out on him.

He shrunk back, but there was a faint gleam of defiance in his eyes as he stared back. There was absolutely no way he would even mention Edge’s name. There was nothing this thing could threaten that would make him endanger his partner anymore than he already had.

“No one important.” He said, as meekly as before. “A friend. He’s not human.”

His heart was hammering in his chest as he considered his next question. He had one chance to play this right, and he prayed to whatever was listening that he’d guessed correctly - that it was as unhappy as he was to be here.

“What - are those? I saw them before, when I was walking here. Are they part of your court?”

Open ended questions, a purposefully bad guess. It would want to correct him, and it had room to rant or boast. He hoped, for the first time in his life, that it would like the sound of its own voice as much as everything else here seemed to.

[NightshadeVII]

Aberdeen knew that the human was trying to stall, but for what reason he couldn’t figure out. After all, there was nothing here for him, only illusions and torment. So why stall? Why try to avoid the end that was undeniably coming for him? There was a faint glimmer of defiance as the human steeled himself and he was clearly trying to lead the conversation away from the face the illusion had worn. So he still had people in his life that were worth protecting.
Did the poor thing still have hope that he would see them again?

“They’re not of the court, at least not exactly”, the nøkk spoke, shaking his hand as if to dispel whatever remnants of the apparition that lingered on his skin, “they’re illusions manifested by the realm, little bits and pieces of your heart and soul that it takes and twists against you, to make you suffer… for its own entertainment.”
Aberdeen still remembered what the realm had shown him when he first arrived centuries ago, in a different life, when he had been a different person. Visions of Dagmar, Vilhelm and even his mother had taunted him when he arrived. Even now, when he knew the realms tricks, he sometimes fooled himself into thinking he saw the dead out of the corner of his eye, heard Dagmar’s laugh or Vilhelm’s condemnations, saw the back of Lyse as she disappeared into the mist. Then he reminded himself that he had seen them all die.

“Either it is someone you hate or someone you love. It’s always someone important. How else would the realm get what it wants from you?” Aberdeen continued, circling around Faolan until he stood behind him, “and considering what you’re already being put through here, you’re surrounded by plenty of hate already. So it’s someone you love.”
That last word, love, the nøkk spoke with venom. Centuries had taught him it was a curse, a death sentence, nothing more. But it was very human still, admirable yet foolish, like a hopeful funeral march. The nøkk’s hands clamped down on Faolan’s shoulders. His grip was cold, water from the lake quickly soaking through the blonde’s clothes, nails pressing against the cloth. He could feel the human’s heart hammering, like a caged bird.

“It must be some awfully special friend of yours if this place decided to wear his face and lure you with him”, Aberdeen said, not relinquishing his hold on the human as he walked him over to the edge of the lake. The water lapped against their feet, animating the nøkk’s cloak. Without warning, he pushed the human to his knees, pressing his head down so his face hovered just above the water. In the rippling reflection, Faolan could see the nøkk’s luminous eyes behind him, set in a shapeless darkness. Even now, he spoke and acted with a layer of indifference. Calm despite his unspoken threats. He did not hate Faolan in particular, felt no disgust or malice towards him, but he could only endure so much small talk.
And boredom begged cruelty.

“Tell me, Faolan, do you want to live?”, the nøkk spoke softly, in any other situation, he would have sounded gentle.
“Do you want to see this beloved friend of yours again?”

[qhostqrowls]

When it pushed him towards the lake, his dread curdled to true fear. Faolan dug his heels in, leant back into its clawed, sodden touch, his back pressing against its chest.

But it was stronger than he was, and he felt water creep slowly into his sneakers with every unwilling step. When it shoved him his legs buckled, his hands bracing against the cold mud of the lakebed, water lapping against his sleeves.

The chill didn’t compare to the ice running through his veins, and he stared back at his own frightened, distorted reflection in the rippling surface.

“Yes!” His voice finally broke, and with it any semblance of control. He didn’t know what to say to save himself. Didn’t want to drown in a few shallow feet of muddy water because he was too proud to beg.

“Yes - yes, I do. Please don’t kill me.”

[NightshadeVII]

There it was. The fear the nøkk had been looking for, the fear that brought honesty - desperate honesty as a means of survival. He knew it well, had seen it in many others over the centuries. It had rarely swayed him in the past.
Killing the human would provide momentary satisfaction, compliant to his nature. There was no other incentive, no driving force other than the cruelty that was expected of him. Was that what he wanted?

The nøkk stilled for a moment. Slowly, an idea rose from the murk of his mind; something that might be mildly entertaining, something he could easily play off as another of the sadistic games his court so loved to play. It was naive at best, pitiful at worst.

“Good”, Aberdeen’s grip on Faolan’s head tightened for a moment, pushing him down so his nose brushed the water, before letting go.
Then the nøkk rose, nonchalantly, entirely unmoved by the human’s tears. He looked around the clearing, knowing better than to carelessly speak his mind. But thankfully, the realm did not pay him much mind, perhaps out of disdain or perhaps because it believed him properly subdued, brought back into the fold. Either way, Aberdeen did not want to waste his good fortune. His eyes returned to Faolan.

“What are you willing to do to live? To get out of here?”, he asked, tilting his head slightly as he waited for an answer.

[qhostqrowls]

The nokk’s nails scraped against his scalp, and Faolan squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation. But the shove beneath the surface never came.

His head stayed bowed, even as it stepped away. He let out the breath he’d been holding, feeling a wild thrill of relief despite himself.

Cautiously, slowly, he pushed himself into a kneeling position, water dripping down his forehead where his hair had brushed the surface, a piece of pondweed tangled around his finger.

He looked warily up at the nokk.

“Anything.” He said, and it was with the same raw honesty of before. “I’ll do anything. Whatever it takes.”

He fully expected the conversation to segue into more mockery. Most things it wanted it could just take. He wouldn’t pre-emptively offer anything, but beneath the pounding of his heart and the anxiety curled in his chest, he felt the faintest flicker of hope.