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The ferocity in Aelwyn’s attack came as more of a surprise than it should’ve. Things got heated sometimes. ‘Friendly dueling’ turned into something closer to ‘competitive distractions via inappropriate comments while trying way too hard to get a leg up’. This was, of course, milder when Cathilda or Hallariel was training them. But Fabian and Aelwyn were nothing if not prideful (were nothing if not trying to hide the fact that something much softer and more fragile had taken root where their pride used to be) so a slash that was a little too quick or a jab that was a little too fierce shouldn’t have been anything of a surprise.
This, however, was different.
Afterwards, Fabian would think on how Aelwyn’s face went cold. How her expression hardened, eyes glazed in overwhelming focus. The playful comments were lost in favor of sharp, too-quick breathing.
His senses—his fighter senses, which he had almost lost only months ago—told him that something was wrong. Unfortunately for the both of them, that tended to happen a lot. When Jawbone would talk to him, sitting in the overstuffed thrifted chairs in the counselor’s office at school, he’d say words like hypervigilance, trigger, PTSD, and Fabian would nod along until the sweet ring of the bell would pull him away, back to the noise and the chaos of the rest of his life like a great ship in the choppy sea. He felt, in many ways, calmer in the storm. When someone would pull him onto the steady land, he could feel the tilt and roil of his senses.
It was a delicate balance, picking when to listen. Sometimes his fighter senses would say danger right now danger danger and it was merely because someone at the table behind him had brought sushi for lunch. Sometimes, like right then, with the sharp blades singing between them, it was because his brain recognized someone on a rampage and knew that it was no longer just a playful duel between friends (exes? his brain asked. friends, he said back).
“Aelwyn.”
He slid into a defensive position just in time—arms raised, duck your head now, one foot behind, to the left, parry, block, cling cling shing. The blows rained down. Aelwyn was smart, everyone knew that. Some were surprised how quickly she picked up swordplay, but Fabian wasn’t. He’d recognized the potential—no, the hunger—in her early on. It’s why he offered to teach her in the first place.
“Aelwyn, stop. I forfeit, okay?”
The first waves of panic swishing around his ribs, Fabian moved with the tide. His feet danced along the courtyard, but this fight was different than he was used to. Aelwyn was a quick learner, but she was still learning. This wasn’t a master swordsman gaining the upper hand. Aelwyn’s sudden onslaught was choppy, sloppy, and desperate.
And dangerous.
He managed to block a wild swing just in time, but as he spun out of her range, she leapt forward again. It was instinct that sent his blade slicing through the skin of her arm.
She didn’t seem to notice.
Fabian grit his teeth. Part of his mind questioned if she’d been put under a spell. If some force unnoticed as of yet had taken control of her. But he didn’t think so. He recognized the look on her face. Either way, this had to end before one of them got hurt.
He needed wait only moments before his opening. With the grace he’d so recently found in the dance, he twisted, reached, flicked his hand—and Aelwyn’s sword went in a glimmering arc and sunk deeply into the grassy lawn.
Much less gracefully, he caught her wrist as a balled fist swung towards him.
“Aelwyn!” he barked.
Something of the sentinel still buzzing within him, he twisted his weight until both of them were planted on the ground.
Aelwyn blinked. Fresh blood oozed down the skin of her arm and dripped onto the pavement of the courtyard.
“Are you done?” he asked. He didn’t mean to snap, but fear was snapping in turn within his chest. “Dispel magic. Calm emotions. Whatever. All I have is grapple. Can I let you go?”
She nodded shortly.
Fabian quickly scuttled backwards. He swiped at his nose with his arm, if only to hide his expression for a moment.
“Jesus, Aelwyn, what was that?”
Aelwyn’s eyes slowly traveled down, her gaze tracing the little rivulet of blood that tracked down to her elbow. She touched it gently, then pulled her fingers back to examine the stain of red.
“Sorry,” she said.
“Sorry? That’s it, sorry? You fucking- are you a barbarian now or something? You went berserk.”
It looked like there was a struggle for her to swallow.
“No, I- I think I … was just … somewhere else for a second.”
Jawbone’s voice echoed in his head.
“Oh,” he said dumbly. A pause. “Like a- one of those- oh, whatever he calls it. I never pay attention. Emotional flashbacks. Whatever. He always sounds like he cares so much, I want to run out of there as soon as I can, you know? I guess you do, you have to live with him. I don’t know if I could take Mr. Therapist every day over breakfast. I mean, I do have to live with Gilear, which is- you know …”
Fabian trailed off. Aelwyn was still staring at the blood.
“Were you, um—” He bobbed his head. “-thinking about anything in particular?”
The glassy-eyed look had turned into a—much more frightening, in Fabian’s opinion—misty-eyed look, far too close to what might be tears. He wished suddenly to start the duel back up, for her to rage and slash and he’d take the damage all the way down to his last bit of HP to avoid whatever upset she was having.
But they were friends now. He should be able to handle this.
“I just—” She shrugged. Quickly, she blinked a few times, looking away. “I yelled at Adaine today.”
“Oh. Are you- are you mad at her?”
“No,” she whispered wretchedly. “Gods, no, not even a little.”
“Okay.”
With a bitter laugh, she wiped the smudgy blood on the pavement. Fabian thought he ought to get up and get her a towel, a bandage maybe, but the scratch was only skin-deep. Not worth interrupting the conversation.
“I’m such a monster.”
Fabian’s brows furrowed. “You’re not. I’ve seen monsters. You’re just kind of bitchy.”
That brought a little smile to her face, at least, like he’d intended.
“I am. That much is true. I mean- no, okay, I’m not a monster. I’m worse. I’m a freak. And I don’t even have the courtesy to look all grotesque and hideous so everyone knows to stay away.”
“Oh, woe is me, I’m too hot and people care.” When she didn’t even frown at the joke, he kicked her lightly with his shoe. “What’d you yell at Adaine about?”
Her shoulders rose and fell. “I don’t know. Isn’t that awful? I don’t even remember. I just saw the opportunity, and I took it.”
“To do what?”
Her sharp blue eyes wandered around the courtyard—from the trees, to the fountain, to the sky beyond.
“She has to give up eventually, right?” she muttered. Fabian found that her voice wasn’t acclimated to it, so used to prim enunciation. “She’s got to realize I’m not worth it.”
Fabian quickly did some math in his head. “You yelled at her on purpose.”
“It’s just easier for everyone that way, don’t you think?”
He shook his head, scoffing. “Idiot.”
Her head snapped over. “Excuse me?”
“It’s—” He waggled his finger, barely meeting her gaze. “It’s- it’s always the logical people who just … do the absolute stupidest shit, you know? You people think you’re so smart, and then you go and pull shit like this and it’s all, oh well it’s just the logical thing to do, I’m just thinking things through. Times like this, it’s easy to see that smart people are just as dumb as the rest of us. You really are such an idiot.”
“Fabian,” she bit.
“No, don’t Fabian me, I’m serious! Aelwyn, it’s-! Seriously, if you were actually so much better than the rest of us, you’d be able to see how much Adaine loves you and how much she wants this to work. What’s your plan here? Make everything harder on purpose so she goes through even that much more pain and eventually loses another family member? Like- that’s what you settled on?”
Aelwyn stared at him. Behind the watery look on her face was anger, malice, and that, he found, he was much more comfortable with. He’d take an angry Aelwyn over a sad one any day.
“Fine. I’m stupid, that’s your point, then? Well, if you know so much better, then tell me, you really think it’s going to work? You don’t think they’re going to get close, they’re going to get attached, and then they’re going to see what a horrid, broken person I really am and just—”
Her jaw snapped closed.
“What?” he said. “They’re going to what?”
A shaking hand tucked blond hair behind her ear. She looked away.
“Seriously, finish your sentence. What do you think they’re going to do?”
“Nothing. Leave it.”
“They’re going to punish you? Abandon you?” He leaned toward her, trying to catch her gaze. “Do you think they’ll be disappointed in you?”
That one made her flinch.
“Jesus, Aelwyn, do you fucking- do you talk about this with anyone? I know Jawbone said you see a therapist, but- seriously, I cannot stress enough how little I know about shit like this. Like if you want a fucking orange, I’ll give you a thousand, but I really don’t know what to- I mean, shit.”
His sword clattered to the ground next to him as he leaned back on his hands. Aelwyn pressed a hand against the wound on her arm, but to him it seemed more of an excuse to hug herself. He sniffed harshly and looked away, head shaking.
“I don’t know, dude. Like … your parents are dead. Right? I think that’s- like that’s really all there is to it. They did so much horrible, fucked up shit, but … most people aren’t like that. Jawbone isn’t. Adaine, miraculously, isn’t. None of the people around you are just waiting for you to fuck up so we can kick you out the door like a dog. We just- like, I don’t know how we can tell you we care, and for you to actually understand it. I don’t know if that’s fair, but … do we just yell it from the rooftops? Do we have to prove it? I don’t even know how to do that. It’s not even a thing you have to prove, really, it’s just something you both have to have faith in, you know? I’m- I’m definitely rambling, but- sorry. Not knowing what to do scares me sometimes and, like, girl, you are so fucking messy.”
Aelwyn slapped a hand against her mouth as a laugh spilled out of her. Well, he hoped it was a laugh. It might’ve been a sob. Or something in between, something that came from that raw, tender place where pride used to shelter them.
“Gods,” she said behind her hand, voice wet and shaking, “I am such a mess.”
“Yes! You are! You completely are, but, like, that’s fine, you know? Nobody is saying you have to be otherwise. We don’t want you to be perfect, we just want you to, like, you know … be Aelwyn. And- and just be okay. As much as you can be. Like we know you’ve been through shit, you know? Some shit that frankly hurts my brain to even think about. We’re not saying you have to be better tomorrow or anything, just, like … acknowledge that everyone cares about you and that we want you to stick around, messiness and all. It’s kind of, like, a requirement of our group to be a little messy, anyways. I think The Ball is probably the most put together of us and he’s- well, you’ve met him.”
Aelwyen sniffled harshly and wiped at her face, and- okay, yeah. Definitely a sob, then.
“I know it’s—” Fabian shrugged. “I know it’s hard to wrap your head around the fact that the people who raised you were just extra fucking shitty and that most people aren’t out to get you like that. But, Aelwyn … you truly don’t have anything to prove to any of us. We get it. We’ve heard the stories. We know what happened in the forest. Like … your parents fucked you up considerably, and we’re not expecting you to get over that overnight. I think I unpack something new about my dad every other day. We’re just, like …” A long sigh escaped him as he leaned further backwards, staring up at the summer sky. “I don’t know, dude. I don’t know if any of this means anything. I’m just trying to say you don’t have to be so scared of us, you know? Or, of losing us, I guess. Of losing Adaine. I truly believe she’d punch a hole in the side of a mountain if you asked her to. She doesn’t need you to be some perfect, shining person, she just wants her sister. If you mess up, she’s going to forgive you. She already has, like, a thousand times over. Even when you fight, she still loves you. She still wants you around. None of us need you to be perfect; we don’t need you to be anything other than here.”
Her throat bobbed. “It’s hard to believe that. Everything in me is telling me not to.”
“Okay. That’s fine. You believing it or not doesn’t make it less true.”
Pulling her hand away, Aelwyn looked down at the mess of red smeared across her palm. “Can I have, like- a towel, or—”
“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry.”
Fabian sprung up and jogged over to the table set between the chairs. He snatched up Aelwyn’s towel (white, regrettably, but Cathilda was a wizard with the laundry) and went back to her side. She took it with a shaky hand, holding it against the long, bloody cut.
“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” Fabian said, running a hand through his sweat-damp hair.
“No, it’s- it’s fine.” She didn’t flinch as she dabbed at it, then swiped away some of the drying trail down her arm. “For my part, I’m sorry it happened in the first place. I don’t know, it was just like … I just … I don’t even know. I was so angry.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t even seeing you. I just had tunnel vision. Some roaring in my head.”
Fabian nodded, glancing back towards the house. The sun would set soon, and the sky was going a soft pink behind it. “Kind of sounds like rage. Just saying.”
She hummed.
“Which wouldn’t be, like- a bad thing. You know. If that’s what it was.”
For a moment, she was quiet, wiping gently at her hands.
“Imagine what Father would say.”
“He can’t. He’s dead.”
“He is,” she agreed.
Awkwardness settled into Fabian. Now that the threat was gone, now that he’d said all he could think to say, he felt stiff and muddy and tired. He wondered if she’d want to watch a movie, after all this, settle down with snacks and virgin daiquiris prepared by Cathilda with those little colorful umbrellas in the glass. It was tradition. Everything felt thrown off, now. Out of place.
“That’s who I was thinking of,” Aelwyn said suddenly.
He snapped himself back into focus. “Your father?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat, squeezing the dirtied towel between her hands. “We were dueling, and then … and then it was just the forest. And there was Father. Trying to hurt Adaine. Trying to … and this time, there was a sword in my hand. I wanted nothing more than to stab it through his heart.”
Fabian’s cheeks puffed as he blew out a breath. His arms swung by his sides, tingling fingers just brushing against his shorts. “Yeah, I mean, that- that sounds like a good thing to tell Jawbone, honestly.”
“I probably should,” she agreed.
“And, like- maybe Gorgug? I mean, hell, Fig’s been to enough barbarian classes, she could probably point you in the right direction. Like, I’m glad the first time it happened, it happened with me, but you might want to figure that out before it happens again.”
“I will,” she said, voice raspy, “thanks.”
He squatted, arms resting on his legs, but she didn’t look at him. Without much thought, he reached out and shoved her.
“Ugh- Fabian!”
“I’m sorry!” he quickly said, throwing up his hands. “You just seem so tense! I hate all this serious stuff. I’m just here to fight good and look pretty.”
“And fail your Common grammar classes, apparently.”
“Yes, that too.” He cracked a smile, more a nervous showing of the teeth than anything. “Now can we, like, go watch a movie or something? You know those old horror ones scare the shit out of me, but I will bow to your choice for tonight and tonight only. You don’t want to lose out on an offer like that.”
Finally, a little smile of her own tipped one corner of her mouth. “I appreciate the offer. You do get scared so easily. But, um, no. I- I think I’d like to go apologize to Adaine, actually. She seemed really upset.”
He nodded. “Yeah, probably a good bet. I can drive you home?”
“I think the walk would do me good.”
He reached out a hand, and she took it. He wasn’t expecting, as he helped her to her feet, for her to pull him forward into a hug. A little puff of air escaped him. He blinked for a moment, then settled his arms around her back.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“It’s okay.”
She pulled away, a furrow between her brow. Her eyes were downcast as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t think that I can … that I can believe you—all the things you said—just yet. I’ll try. Some part of me knows it’s true, I just … yeah. I’m trying.”
“I know. We all know you are.”
“I appreciate it.” She nodded briskly, as if to herself. “I do. I’m trying to get better about that, too. Saying it.”
“Well, you know. We’re patient people.”
Lips tugging, she let the towel drop to the ground, moving instead to hold her own elbows. “Maybe we can train again next week? I’ll talk to Gorgug. I don’t want to go into a rage and kick your ass again.”
“Kick my—?” He let his mouth drop in a look of exaggerated outrage, kindly taking her bait. He knew he made the right choice when a playful sparkle danced in her eyes. “You absolute did not- okay, did you see how fast I had your ass on the ground? You might be a great wizard, but this is my house. Kick my ass … I ought to hand yours to you right now just for saying it.”
A watery grin rose to her face as she turned and started walking towards the street. She looked better. Lighter, at least a little, than when she’d come. Just for effect, Fabian snatched the towel off the ground, balled it, and threw it at her. She laughed as it thumped into her back.
“You got blood on my towel! It’s monogrammed!”
“Your fault!” she called back.
Fabian watched her go with a smile. He knew the path ahead of her was going to be hard. This was untrodden territory, so unlike the strict school of magic she’d grown up learning in the strict, crisp house that was no longer there. But if her grief had given her anger—anger at the pain she’d suffered, anger at the injustice she and Adaine had been put through … well. Maybe that was her first step.