Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12045012.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      All_For_the_Game_-_Nora_Sakavic
  Relationship:
      Neil_Josten/Andrew_Minyard, Minor_or_Background_Relationship(s)
  Character:
      Neil_Josten, Andrew_Minyard, The_Foxes_(All_For_the_Game), Riko_Moriyama,
      Ichirou_Moriyama, Nathan_Wesninski, Mary_Hatford, Lola_Malcolm, Erik
      Klose, Jean_Moreau, Jeremy_Knox, Roland_(All_For_The_Game), Probably_More
  Additional Tags:
      also_the_rape_and_underage_warnings_are_only_referenced_in_the_story,
      like_none_of_it_actually_happens_its_just_spoken_about, but_the_violence
      tag_is_important, there_will_be_alot_of_it, this_is_a_pretty_dark_fic,
      Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Singing, Magical_Elements, its_not_all_bad_i_swear,
      exy_references, but_no_actual_exy, Tangled_AU, Fantasy
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-15 Updated: 2018-01-26 Chapters: 3/? Words: 16335
****** What Once Was Mine ******
by ClockworkDragon
Summary
     Neil's life has been anything but normal. His birth was unnatural,
     his childhood a mixture of blood and darkness. His youth was spent on
     the run, with no place safe for him to stay too long. It was only
     recently that he had been able to live in quiet solitude, hidden from
     the world in his lonely tower. It all basically goes back to shit
     when a short, dangerous man breaks his widow and offers him a deal.
     With his tower no longer safe, Neil finds himself once again having
     to run in order to survive.
***** Mother Knows Best *****
Chapter Notes
     Well, I finally built up the courage to write my first aftg fic, and
     oh man...it's a big one. I am not the best with long projects because
     I tend to lose my drive after awhile, but I couldn't keep this idea
     in my brain any longer, SO I GUESS I'M DOING THIS. Welcome to my
     Rapunzel/Tangled inspired AU, complete with romance, murder and
     magical hair. I'll level with you all, this thing is dark, I'm
     talking Grimm. I'll post chapter warnings so no one is surprised, but
     believe me when I say that I won't skimp out on the details. Also, as
     of right now I don't have a schedule for updating (hopefully I'll get
     there soon).
     Thank you to my awesome beta readers @thefoxycourt and @breath-of-
     night!! That's all for now, I hope you enjoy the first chapter!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
In the dream he was running. At first he was not aware that he was dreaming,
because all he ever did while he was awake was run. For nearly half his life he
had moved from town to town, country to country, always looking over his
shoulder, yet never looking back. His life was that of prey; constantly hunted
and never safe. Fear, paranoia and mistrust were ever present in his mind. It
was the absence of these feelings that made him realize he was still asleep.
His dream self was running down a path, and though he did not smile, there was
a deep sense of contentment surrounding him. As he ran, the scenery changed.
Thick forest blurred into open fields, which turned into mountain paths. He
blinked and opened his eyes to a beach, breathed and was suddenly passing over
a bridge into an unfamiliar town.
The rapidly changing landscape was not what caught his attention though, since
he had seen countless sights over the years. What surprised him the most was
his own lack of urgency. Though he was running, there was no pressure to
escape, no voice in his head urging him to move faster, hurry up,or hand in his
hair pulling him along. He felt like he had all the time in the world. He
felt...free.
The concept of freedom was as foreign to him as it was unattainable. Someone
like him would never taste it, and the fact that his mind was trying to
fabricate it just hurt him that much more. He could not dream of freedom, could
not even think to hope for it. After all, he had learned to stop hoping a long
time ago.
The dream became too painful to experience. He did not want to see something he
could never have, could not deal with the aching want within him.
He forced himself awake.
He opened his eyes to angry grey skies and the sharp smell of distant
lightning. Beneath him, the ship groaned as the sea became restless and the
waves grew high. A storm was coming, and a bad one at that.
“I was about to wake you, Alexander.”
Alexander turned so that his back was no longer pressed to his mother's.
Elizabeth Pent (which wasn’t her real name) sat facing the bow of the ship,
calculating eyes trained on the dark horizon. Her long, ink-dyed hair was tied
away from her face, but the strong winds had torn some pieces loose. Alexander
tugged at his hood to make sure his own hair was completely hidden.
He looked around quickly, taking in the frantic bustle of the crew as they
shouted and rushed to secure sails and knot ropes. The other passengers were
huddled by the rails a few paces away from him, their expressions anxious.
Beyond them, in the distance just within sight was a smudge of black coast.
“What's going on?” Alexander asked, “It's too soon to make land. We should
still have two days of sea travel.”
His mother finally looked at him, but he wished she hadn't. She looked tired
and angry, but worst of all was the fear. He had not seen such bleak fear in
her eyes since  that  night.
“The captain said a storm will be upon us within the hour. It will be brutal
and we risk losing the ship if we don’t make port immediately. We are to make
an emergency stop.”
Alexander frowned. Emergency stop? They were nowhere near the coast, which was
the reason his mother had chosen this ship in the first place. The route
ensured they would be well away from the mainland and would make no stops along
the way to the Redcrest Islands. The only possible land mass close to them was―
Oh. Oh  no.
“ We're making port at Ryuu Island?” Alexander did not shout or let his panic
seep into his tone. To anyone else it would have simply sounded curious. “But
isn't that―?”
“Yes, Alexander. We will be stopping on Moriyama land.” She said it as if she
could not care less where they ended up. Meanwhile Alexander felt his heart
beat to the speed of a hummingbird's wing.
By the time the ship docked the rain had begun and the sky was black. As the
crowd of travellers hastily made their way off the dock in the hopes of finding
cheap shelter from the storm, Alexander tried not to flinch at every person on
the streets. He knew, logically, that Ryuu Island was half a day’s voyage from
the mainland, and that the Moriyama Kingdom used it as a hub for sea trade
rather than a military outpost. There would be soldiers, but the chances of him
running into the particular group of them that would be able to recognize him
and his mother were low. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. The
pinched look on his mother’s face was less than reassuring.
She grabbed his wrist when he nearly slipped on the wet cobblestones of the
road, and tightened her hand, pressure bruising, in a silent reprimand for his
carelessness. Alexander accepted it without a wince. After years of running, he
had lost every clumsy thing about him, the need to be constantly sure-footed
beaten into him.  “There are countless people in this world that you need to be
able to escape from. Even the tiniest mistake will cost you. Don’t ever trip
again.”  Alexander had learned that lesson at the age of nine.
They made their way past taverns and inns, their heavy cloaks failing to keep
out the chill when they were so saturated with rain. Alexander knew his mother
didn’t want to stop, that she wanted to find a boat that would take them off
the island immediately. He also knew that no sailor in their right mind would
go out into this storm.
“Hey, you two there!” Alexander felt his heart jump into his throat. Beside
him, his mother tensed. They both turned to see a short woman waving from the
doorway of an inn, backlit by the warm glow of lamplight. “I have some rooms
for the night if you need any. Not much sense in travelling in this hellish
weather.”
It took his mother only a few seconds to weigh their options, which weren’t
many, and decide to take the stranger up on her offer. Alexander was instantly
grateful that she did. The inn was dry and warm, and in a matter of minutes
Alexander had his hands around a mug of hot cider and a plate of grilled fish
to go with it. He watched his mother pay for a night and make polite
conversation with the short woman, who likely owned the place.
Once he had eaten some of the food, and snuck some bread rolls into his
pockets, he followed his mother up the creaky stairs to their room. It was
routine from there. Alexander made sure the room was clear while his mother
left to check all the exits. Alexander tested the window and found that it
opened without a sound. He looked down to the alley below; the distance was
enough to hurt, but the risk of a broken leg was minimal if he jumped right.
His mother came back a moment later and briefed him on the floorplan of the
inn. Afterwards, they huddled together on the lumpy bed and listened to the
wind whip the rain against the window. Alexander clutched at the knife under
his pillow and tried to sleep.


When his mother woke him it was still dark outside, but the rain had stopped.
Silently, they slung their packs over their shoulders and crept down the hall.
There were no patrons up at this hour, and when they reached the main floor the
only sounds that could be heard were the clattering of pots from the kitchen as
the cooks prepared breakfast. The thought of food made Alexander aware of his
own hunger, and he wished to stay to at least eat before they left.  But every
minute they had was precious, and danger could appear at any moment.
As they neared the door, his mother whispered for him to stay close. They were
too at risk and couldn’t afford to make any mistakes while they remained on
this island.
It turned out they wouldn’t even get the chance.
His mother opened the inn door and came face to face with Lola Malcolm. For an
indeterminate amount of time, no one breathed. Then, Lola’s eyes widened, but
before the recognition could completely sink in, Elizabeth Pent punched her
squarely in the teeth. She grabbed the stunned woman and bashed her head
against the doorframe. The next thing Alexander knew, he was running down the
street, his mother’s biting order of  ‘faster’  harsh at his side. Alexander
was painfully aware that Lola probably had survived her head trauma. She
wouldn’t stay down for long.
He was right.
Too soon the streets came alive with the pounding of uniformed feet and the
condemning toll of the alarm bell.
The next hour passed in a blur where Alexander was only aware of dim alleyways,
rooftops, and the beating of his frantic heart. They managed to evade the swarm
of soldiers for so long because of their experience in...well, evasion.
However, the port town was too small, and their enemies too many for it to have
lasted. Eventually, Alexander found himself running up a dirt path towards an
old lighthouse, his mother was only a few paces behind him. A quick glance over
his shoulder confirmed that their pursuers were just minutes away from catching
up.
Alexander could still run, he’d run until he dropped down from exhaustion if he
had to. The problem was, he had nowhere  left  to run. The path ended at the
lighthouse. They either had to turn back (horrible idea), make a stand (equally
horrible) or make use of the cliff at their back and just end it all. His
mother seemed to be thinking the same, because she pushed him towards the cliff
roughly. Alexander couldn’t fault her for her decision; the likelihood of them
surviving the fall and the currents was much too low, but even if they didn’t,
a quick death from the ocean was massively better than the alternative.
They could hear the clatter of armour as Lola and her soldiers grew closer. His
mother squeezed his shoulders tightly―in fear or desperation, he didn’t know―
as she told him to take a deep breath and not let go of her cloak,  no matter
what.
He could only nod and grip her sleeve, knuckles white with the force of his
hold.
The last thing he heard as they plummeted off the cliff’s edge was Lola’s
furious shriek.
They hit the water like a bag of flower might hit a brick wall. Alexander
struggled to hold his breath and not lose his death grip on his mother. He
tried to orient himself and find the surface, but the force of the waves was
too great, and he was spinning, spinning. Then, all at once, it grew too much.
Alexander wondered if the air held in his lungs was the last he’d ever breathe.
It was his last thought before he blacked out.
 
----------------------
 
The burning in his chest was the first sign that he was alive. With it came the
realization that he was lying on a flat surface, rocking gently from side to
side. A boat.
For one glorious moment, Alexander entertained the idea that the storm had been
just another nightmare, and that he was still on the passenger boat headed to
the Redcrest Islands. He knew the thought was a lie, just as he himself was a
lie.
Opening his eyes, Alexander saw that he was, indeed on a boat, though a much
smaller one. The only people aboard were himself, his mother, and an older man
with a white, curly beard. Alexander attempted to sit up, body aching all over
from his fall into the ocean, but nothing seemed to be hurt too bad. He looked
over to his mother, who was propped up against some nets and ropes. She looked
pale, and had one hand pressed against her ribs, but her eyes were ever-alert,
which meant she was not about to drop dead.
“What happened?” Alexander rasped. He coughed a bit, and was handed a tin with
some water by the old man. The cool liquid felt amazing on his parched tongue.
His mother flicked her gaze to the stranger, which meant her answer would be a
truth concealed with a lie.
“You passed out from exhaustion after we had been drifting in the ocean for
hours. Do you remember the shipwreck?”
Alexander nodded. So that was the story she had come up with.
“We seem to be the only ones alive, or at least the only ones found since the
storm. This kind fisherman was out early and was lucky to come across us. He
saved us and offered to take us to where we need to go.”
“Thank you, sir,” Alexander said, playing his part, “I don’t want to think of
what would have happened to us if you hadn’t come along.”
“Don’t worry about it, lad. Now, where is it you folks need to be?”
Alexander was only mildly surprised when his mother told the fisherman to take
them to the mainland. Since they could not return to their ship at Ryuu Island,
there was no way for them to continue on to the Redcrest Islands like they had
planned. The only option left was to sail to the mainland and pray that they
won’t be discovered before they can arrange transport out of the country. The
fisherman was hesitant to agree at first, because it would take them at least
five hours to get there, but Alexander’s mother only had to slip him a few gold
coins to silence his complaints.
Alexander spent most of the trip dozing and resting his sore body. Despite the
magnitude of the storm the night before, the sky remained clear and blue the
entire time. However, the good weather did nothing to ease his nerves because
it meant that Lola was probably sending a literal fleet out to search for them.
It was noon by the time the coast appeared on the horizon, and it was then that
his mother looked at him significantly. Alexander cleared his throat.
“Hey, Mr. Fisherman, what’s that over there?” he pointed vaguely at the ocean
by the back of the boat.
“Huh? What are you talking about, lad?”
Distracted by searching where Alexander hand pointed, the old fisherman did not
see the oar that his other passenger swung at his head. Before the old man even
hit the deck, Alexander was moving to readjust the sails. His mother stepped
over the unconscious body, and moved to the helm to change their heading. The
fishing boat was not made to travel long distances across the ocean, so they
couldn’t use it to go too far, but they could use it to take them past the main
ports of the Moriyama Kingdom. They’d find a hidden beach or cove somewhere,
ditch the boat and move on.
Alexander worked for another hour under the commands of his mother. They both
had decent knowledge about sailing from their time spent living on various
islands. Fishing was a major trade and so, Alexander had learned his way around
a ship. He had needed to blend in, after all.
Finally, they had sailed far enough from the main ports that they could chance
making land. Alexander’s mother brought them close to shore before rigging the
wheel to remain still. They jumped overboard and swam for shore, while the
fisherman and his boat headed back in the direction they came.
Alexander had just wrung out the water from his hood when he heard his mother
gasp. He whipped around, hidden dagger in his hand, and searched for trouble.
He was confused to see only his mother, struggling to stand. Alexander was at
her side in an instant. He flung her arm around his shoulders and helped
support her.
“Mom, what is it? Are you hurt?”
He could see that she wanted to brush off whatever injury she had, but it was
clearly bad enough to be bothering her.
“I hit a rock when we fell into the sea. Probably bruised my ribs.”
“Shit,” Alexander muttered. “Should I take a look?”
“Nothing you can do. Keep moving.”
It was easier said than done. Even with Alexander taking half her weight, they
were still too slow. Not to mention that they were completely out in the open.
In the end, they only made it a couple miles before she collapsed.
Alexander watched her cough once, twice, onto the sand. He saw the blood drip
from her mouth, heard the wheeze in her breathing, and he knew that she had
lied to him. He forced her onto her back and ripped open her shirt. It was
hideous. There was a massive black bruise stretching from her lower left ribs
to her sternum. Alexander could see at least two of her ribs were snapped, the
broken ends pushing at her skin but not able to pierce through.
“You’re dying.”
Alexander was at once aware of what that meant. Panic overtook him and his
hands moved without him meaning for them to. He undid his cloak and threw it
into the sand, his tunic following it a second later. His mother’s hand shot
out to stop him from unwinding his hair from where it was wrapped around his
torso in a long, golden braid.
“Don’t even think about it,” his mother warned.
“Mom, please, let me heal you,” Alexander begged. He knew he wasn’t supposed to
use his magic. It had been the first rule his mother had set the night she took
him and fled the kingdom. He could never again use the power of his hair, it
was too much of a risk. Over the years, though they had gotten sick and cut and
bruised, they had never relied on it. Not once. But Alexander couldn’t care
less about the rules right now. His mother was dying, and damn him if he didn’t
try to save her. “There is no one around to see. I can help you!”
“No!” The force with which she uttered that single word caused her to cough
again. When she regained her composure she lay back and sighed. Alexander
couldn’t look her in the eye. He didn’t understand why she was being so
stubborn. He clenched his hands in his lap and silently hated her for it.
“Listen,” she rasped. More blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.
Punctured lung,  Alexander thought numbly. She shook him roughly. “Abram,
dammit, listen to me.”
When he finally found the courage to look her in the eye, he almost flinched at
the heat he found there. She looked fierce and terrified and defiant all at
once.
“Abram you need to promise me something. No―don't speak. I can't take care of
you anymore. You only have yourself now. So don't stop running. Don't trust
anyone. And do not, under any circumstances, use your hair. Promise me.”
He hesitated. He didn't want to be left alone. He needed her. His mother was
the only companion he ever had. He wouldn’t―couldn’t survive without her.
As if she could read his thoughts, “Abram, you  must  survive. Remember
everything I've taught you. Now, promise me.”
“I promise.” The words cut him on the way out.
His mother took a few more ragged breaths before she left him alone for good.
Numbly, Alexander closed her unseeing eyes. He did not allow himself to pause
and grieve. He had to move quickly because it would be sundown soon. He
stripped her of her pack, looked through it, and shoved the food, bandages,
matches and gold into his own.
He dug a grave.
It took a while, but he managed.
Lastly, after some debate, Alexander unclasped the locket from around his
mother’s neck. It was her only personal possession. It was a small, tarnished
thing, but Alexander could not remember ever seeing her without it. He pocketed
it, and told himself he was keeping it to sell in an emergency and not for
sentimentality.
That done, Alexander lay out his mother’s body in preparation. Her clothes were
still a bit damp, so Alexander emptied their bottle of whiskey all over her. He
could buy another later.
He struck a match.
He counted to ten, then dropped it on her chest.
Flames licked at her shirt and expanded outwards, as if her heart had ignited
and burst. He lit four more matches to help the fire along. Even with the
alcohol, he doubted the fire would get very hot. The process might take a
while. Alexander sat facing the waves, his mother’s burning corpse at his back.
He stared at the horizon and didn’t feel much of anything at all.
Hours later, after the sun had set and he had buried his mother’s remains,
Alexander came back to himself. Up until then, he had been moving on instinct
alone, not really aware of his body’s movements. Somehow he had made it off the
beach and onto a dirt road with scraggly trees lining it on either side. He
became aware of his hunger, and the pain in his legs and back from walking for
so long. He was exhausted and afraid and alone.
For the first time in his life he was unsure of his next move. Did he head
north to one of the other kingdoms on the continent? Should he leave the
continent all together and head west? Disappear into the Eastern Mountains? His
mother had told him to keep running but she failed to tell him  where.
He missed her.
All at once his subdued emotions exploded in his chest. The grief was
strongest. It flexed its cold claws around his heart and squeezed the tears
from his eyes. Anxiety and fear followed, and they were so blindingly
oppressive that his knees gave out. He curled into a ball and tried to cry away
his pain and stress and grief. Eventually he tired himself out. The numbness
was back so he decided to take advantage of it and get some sleep. He crawled
towards the nearest tree and propped himself against it.
He was about to close his eyes when he heard a soft chirping sound. He looked
around wearily, trying to find the source. There on the ground, not five feet
away from him, was a small bird, a baby of some kind; its body covered in
juvenile feathers. One of its wings seemed to be injured, but it's desperate
calls for help were not answered. Alexander watched it for nearly an hour, even
going so far as to move farther away from it, in the hopes that the parent bird
might show up. None did.
Alexander could sympathize, and in that moment he made a decision, the first
since his mother had died. He approached the bird carefully, and with the
utmost care, he cupped it in his hands and lifted it from the ground. The bird,
frightened, began to chirp madly.
“Hey, shh, none of that. All the predators will hear you and you’ll be dead in
a heartbeat,” he cooed. “But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. We are the
same, you see. We’re scared, weak, and alone in this world.”
Alexander stroked the bird’s head gently. It had stopped chirping, and instead
it watched him curiously. He sighed.
“I’m losing it. I’m talking to a bird. Worse, I’m projecting my feelings onto
said bird.” Alexander leaned his head against the tree and tried to find some
of his sanity in the canopy of leaves above him. They were not very helpful.
Then he felt a pinch on his thumb. He looked down to see the bird trying to fit
his thumb in its beak. Alexander huffed out a laugh. “That’s not a worm. Shit,
do you know anything?”
Alexander yawned. He really did need to get some sleep. He would tackle his
life problems tomorrow. Carefully, he pulled a spare tunic from his pack with
one hand and arranged it so that there was a dip in the middle. He placed the
bird in the dip and put the sleeve of the tunic on top. He curled himself
around the makeshift nest and prayed his body heat would keep it warm through
the night. Alexander closed his eyes and slept.
Of course, having a peaceful sleep would be asking for too much. The nightmares
hit with full force. He saw Lola, smile sharp and lips red. He saw his mother,
still alive but burning. Then he was drowning in the ocean, being pulled down
by currents that felt too much like hands. The nightmare changed, and he knew
somehow, that these next images were twisted memories. They were too familiar
to be fiction. He was in his mother’s arms and they were on a horse. Behind
them, shadows shaped like bloodhounds pursued them. His mother’s gloves were
stained with red. They rode through a forest where the trees whispered and
mocked. He knew that they were lost, trapped. The shadows were almost upon
them―
Gasping, Alexander woke up. It took him only a moment to remember where he was
because he was used to waking up in strange places. He looked down at his
tunic, and was relieved to see that the bird had made it through the night.
Quickly, limbs filled with new purpose, he fashioned a sling around his
shoulders for the bird to ride in. Then, he took some bandages and secured the
injured wing as best he could. He knew nothing about birds and nearly nothing
about proper medical procedures, but it looked alright and that would have to
do. After taking out a piece of dried ham and some nuts for breakfast, he threw
his pack on and started down the road. He offered the bird the nuts, but it
seemed to be more inclined toward the ham. Probably a hunter of some sort,
then.
“Don’t worry little guy, I’ll find you more food. There’ll be plenty on the
way,” he murmured. “Lucky for us, my nightmare reminded me of a place we can
stay until I decide what to do next. Only problem is, I don’t know where
exactly it is...or where we are right now. My map is kind of waterlogged.”
Chirp
The continuous grind of wheels on dirt made Alexander flinch and jump for the
cover of bushes. A single wagon was making its way down the road. It looked to
be transporting grain. There was only one horse and one driver. It was a low
risk and high reward situation. He’d take a chance. He double checked that his
hood was up and that his sling was secure. Gathering his wits, Alexander―no, he
needed a new identity now, a new name―stumbled into sight. The wagon
immediately slowed.
“Excuse me, ma’am!” he yelled, waving his arm frantically. She pulled up to a
stop beside him. “Oh, thank goodness you came along! I’m lost, you see. It's my
first time travelling on my own, and I’m afraid I may have taken a wrong turn!”
“Oh dear,” the woman said, “where are you headed, young man?”
“I was supposed to meet my mother at Exy Pass.” It was a gamble, the memories
from his childhood were blurry at best, but he was relatively sure that his
mother had gone there with him before.
“Well then, you’re in luck. That isn’t too far from here,” she said kindly,
before eyeing him critically. He tried not to squirm. “Still, pretty far if
you’re walking it, though. Want a lift?”
He weighed his options. He could simply ask her for directions and remain off
the popular paths, he was less likely to see people that way. Then again, he
wanted to get to the safehouse as soon as possible, and the woman did not seem
threatening.
His mother would have declined.
“That would be super helpful, ma’am,” he accepted.
She gestured to the empty bench seat next to her, “Climb aboard…?”
“Neil. My name is Neil.”
“Pleasure to meet you. I’m Claire.”
Claire turned out to be the daughter of a wheat farmer. She was running
deliveries, something she liked to do because she enjoyed the solitude. Neil
made up some story about himself, but generally steered the conversation
towards her. At noon, they stopped to eat. Claire gave him an apple and he gave
her some dried ham. She eventually noticed his feathered companion, and they
traded ideas on what kind of bird it could be. All the while Neil didn't trust
her one bit. By mid afternoon, they were pulling into a small town. Claire
greeted various people and Neil tried to keep his friendly, innocent mask in
place.
“Alright, Neil, Exy Pass is just five miles away after you climb that hill.”
“Thank you, Claire, you were a great help,” Neil smiled. He jumped off the
wagon and almost took a step before Claire called for him to wait.
“I almost forgot, Exy Pass is bordered by this massive forest on one side.
Whatever you do, don't step off the pass. No one who ever goes in that forest
comes back out.” She said it so seriously that Neil almost believed her. The
thing was, he had been to that forest before. He thanked Claire and hurried on,
keeping an eye out for any soldiers.
As he walked, he turned Claire’s words over in his head. Something about them
rang familiar. He was almost positive that it was the same forest from his
nightmare. The safehouse was hidden there, in a place where everyone was too
scared to trespass. Well, almost everyone. Neil picked up his pace. Soon he
would have a place to rest and lie low. The thought was his only comfort after
the events of the previous day.
Neil made it to Exy Pass by late afternoon. True to Claire's word, there was an
old, creepy looking forest on one side. The other side was all steep cliffs
leading to the ocean. Neil stayed clear of that side, he'd had enough of cliffs
for a lifetime. For a while, he walked with his feet on the pass and his eyes
on the trees. Then, something about the trees looked different. He wasn't sure
what it was, but it was not a physical difference. Neil was thinking they  felt
different, but that raised a lot of concerning questions. One didn't just feel
trees.
Still, something seemed to beckon him forwards. Neil had to enter at some
point, so he took a deep breath, clutched his pack close, and stepped into the
forest. When nothing jumped out at him or made him feel like he was in danger,
he proceeded to go deeper. A minute later, he looked over his shoulder, but the
pass was nowhere in sight.The forest  looked  just like any other forest, but
there was definitely something about this one that had Neil's hair standing on
end. It felt ancient and....powerful. It was also eerily silent. Even so, Neil
pressed onward. There was no point in turning back, if all the superstitions
were true.
Neil was so caught up in the odd aura of the trees that he nearly missed it.
And it was a hard thing to miss.
There, partially hidden by massive willow trees, stood a tall, ancient looking
tower. It was made of pink-gray stone and had no windows on its body. The keep
was wide and circular, the roof a pointed cone of gleaming glass. Neil
remembered it. This was the place his mother had hidden them during their first
months as runaways while they had made a plan.
It only made sense that he use it for the same reason once again. Chin high,
Neil moved with determination towards the tower. He would do as his mother had
said; he would find a way to keep on living.
He was going to survive.
Chapter End Notes
     What did you think? I'm constantly trying to improve my writing, so
     any questions, comments and criticisms are welcome!
     Come say hi to me on tumblr: @c-dragon-pirates
***** Guess I Always Knew This Day Was Coming *****
Chapter Notes
     Yay chapter 2 is here! Get ready for some short angry boys!
     Chapter warnings: Aaron's homophobia, violence
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Ugh, can we like, take a break now? We've been riding for  hours.  My butt
hurts, and not in the fun way!”
“Fucking hell, Nicky, can you keep those gross comments to yourself? No one
wants to be reminded of what happens to your ass whenever Eric visits.”
“He doesn't need to be here for stuff to happen to my ass,” Nicky shot back
smartly, “and you're just bitter because you aren't getting any at all.”
Aaron scowled but had nothing to say in reply. Instead he turned his anger on
Kevin, who had been doing his best to tune out the entire conversation.
“This is all your fault. I don't understand why we couldn't just let Matt go
pick up the order like usual.”
“Matt doesn't know how to identify high quality metals. I don't want to end up
having to work with sub par materials because of his inadequacies.” Kevin
didn't shift his gaze from the road ahead of them as he spoke.
“Fuck, you are so pretentious. Matt can read! You could have just given him a
list like the rest of us! Or sent Seth if you were so concerned!”
“Seth is a fool of a blacksmith and wouldn't know decent steel if I skewered
him with it,” Kevin hissed. “Besides, you didn’t have to come with us.”
“Why don't you tell that to my charming brother?” Aaron seethed.
Andrew found this argument to be old and therefore boring. Aaron and Nicky had
learned their place long ago, and Kevin should know by now that wherever they
went, the others followed. Evidently, Kevin was a slow learner.
“Andrew can we take a break?  Please?”  Nicky whined.
Andrews fingers twitched around his reins. “You know how I feel about that
word.” Nicky flinched, clearly recognizing the warning in his voice. Perhaps
Kevin wasn't the only slow one. “We won't stop.”
Nicky probably thought Andrew denied him out of spite, but the truth was they
were only a half hour out from their destination. Andrew guided his horse down
the dusty road and quietly hated the slow pace he had set for them. For a brief
moment, he thought about urging his mare into a reckless gallop, one he knew
she could handle with ease. She was built for speed, thrived when she was given
the chance to race freely. Andrew had paid a pretty penny for her, but it had
been worth it. Unfortunately, the others could not hope to keep up with her at
her fastest, so he was forced to hold her at a brisk walk.
Once they arrived, Kevin led them straight to the marketplace. It was midday,
so the crowds were tame compared to the organized mayhem of early morning.
Still, it was too busy for the horses to weave through effectively. They
dismounted, and Andrew ordered Aaron and Nicky to watch the horses while he and
Kevin went to run the errands. Nicky complained about not being able to shop,
but Andrew was already walking away.  
Andrew followed Kevin like a shadow. He was uninterested in the plethora of
stalls that lined the square, but he swept his gaze over them all anyway,
searching for trouble. It had only been four months since Kevin had escaped
from under the thumb of Riko Moriyama; four months since Andrew had agreed to
protect him. Riko was a childish, stubborn arse who was hellbent on making
Kevin’s life miserable, and he had already sent several ‘messengers’ to try to
scare Kevin into returning to him. Andrew had sent them back to Riko black and
blue. As Kevin bartered with the older man selling the various blacksmithing
materials, Andrew crossed his arms and stared down anyone who came too close.
“Yes, that’s everything. Could you have it delivered by the end of the week?
Excellent. It has been a pleasure, sir.” Kevin shook the vendor’s hand and
smiled his fake public smile. Andrew didn’t understand how anyone could be
fooled by it.
“Finished?” Andrew drawled.
Kevin looked down at him and nodded. They spent the next hour buying things
that were on the list that Dan had given them. The items were small enough to
pack in their saddlebags, but looking for them was a chore. Andrew hated that
Dan was making him do her work, but she had given him a pouch full of coin and
a promise of next weekend off, so he bore the hatred silently. And if he spent
some of the money on bars of imported chocolate, well, she was too far away to
rebuke him for it.
Andrew and Kevin eventually made their way back to the other half of their
party. Nicky and Aaron had brought the horses to a rest stop a couple streets
over and were in the process of giving them some water. The summer heat made
the horses shiny with sweat. Andrew was feeling rather damp himself. He went
over to his horse and grabbed his waterskin, gulping down the barely-cold
liquid.
“Did you guys find everything?” Nicky asked. Kevin raised his arms, which had
numerous canvas bags hanging from them. “Oh hell, give me some of those.
Honestly, Andrew, would it kill you to carry something for once? Kevin’s hand
is still recovering!”
“If dear Kevin can work in the forge, then he can carry the bags,” Andrew said.
“Now shut up and pack up.”
After that there was no more conversation. Even Nicky, who normally always
found something to babble about, kept his mouth firmly shut. Soon enough they
were mounted and on their way out of town. Andrew didn't lead them back
eastward, instead choosing to detour further south. It wasn't often that he got
to leave Wymack’s little village of rejects, especially since Kevin showed up,
so Andrew was going to make the most of this trip and stop by Eden’s Twilight.
Perhaps then his boredom would finally lessen.
“Hey, what's that?”
Andrew flicked his gaze to where Nicky was pointing, and he immediately tensed.
They were far enough away that they looked tiny and unimposing, but the black
and red of their uniforms set off alarms in Andrew's head.
“Get to cover  now,”  he said.
The horses kicked up dirt in their haste to obey their riders. They thundered
down the road, Andrew bringing up the rear. A few tense minutes passed before
they managed to hide themselves behind a sloping hill. Kevin opened his mouth
to say something but Andrew silenced him with a raised hand. He listened for
any signs of pursuit, watching the path for another few moments just to be sure
they were clear. When he dropped his hand everyone started speaking at once.
“What the fuck are Moriyama soldiers doing here?”
“Do you think they saw us? I'm too pretty to die!”
“Did Riko send them? He's never sent so many before.”
While they freaked out, Andrew was already forming a plan to get some answers.
Kevin was right, Riko hadn't sent that many soldiers in the past. He hadn't
been so ostentatious about it either. Riko wanted Kevin back but he didn't want
people to  think  so, which was why his previous lackeys had acted discreetly.
Something was not adding up. If those soldiers weren't sent by Riko then there
could be trouble.  Real  trouble. For all his arrogance, Riko had no actual
power. The King on the other hand….
“Enough.” Andrew had not raised his voice but the others stopped talking
immediately. “Nicky, do you know the way to Eden's from here?”
Nicky seemed confused by the question but gave his affirmation.
“You three go straight there. No stops. Once there, you  stay  there. Don't
leave, don't tell anyone about what you saw. Have Roland get you a room for the
night. If I'm not back by morning then you send a letter to Wymach and ask for
Renee to come get you. Am I clear?”
“Wait where are you going?” Nicky asked.
“To get answers.”
Nicky’s eyes widened. Kevin looked sick but made no protest against the plan.
Surprisingly, or maybe not, it was Aaron who spoke.
“Are you insane? There must have been twenty guys back there!”
Andrew just stared at him. Aaron threw up his arms in defeat. When no one else
said anything more, Andrew flicked his wrist at them to get going. He didn't
wait for them to get out of sight before he turned around and went to find the
soldiers.
They were painfully easy to spot. They moved out in the open, not caring in the
least that they were trespassing on Palmetto land. The group seemed to be
arguing about something. Once the shouting subsided, the twenty men split into
two groups. Fifteen were headed towards the town Andrew had visited hours
before, and five headed south towards the border. He had to decide which to
follow.
Those headed for town would be easier to tail thanks to the crowds of citizens,
but there was something about the nervous, unhappy expressions of the smaller
group that piqued Andrew’s interest. He turned south.
Andrew followed the five men for the better part of two hours. It was a tedious
task because the open fields provided little cover. He had to follow them by
their footprints instead of by sight. He munched on the chocolate he had
bought, not wanting it to melt all over his stuff. His water supply dwindled
even though he tried to make it last.
Andrew guided his horse up yet another hill, but pulled her to a stop once he
saw where they were. Below him, across the valley, stood the entrance to Exy
Pass. Andrew cursed himself. He could not follow the soldiers through the pass,
not even he was that stubborn. Andrew was about to double back and try his luck
at the town when he saw the soldiers pause. They did not move further into the
pass. Perhaps they weren't returning to the kingdom? If not, why come this
close to the border? There was nothing here except cliffs or open fields.
Then the soldiers dismounted and walked towards the treeline. Andrew watched as
they once again began to argue. He couldn't hear from this far away, and the
lack of answers annoyed him. He needed to know what the hell was going on.
Andrew got off his horse and told her to wait. She blinked at him then started
to chew the grass. Is that what it felt like when he ignored people? He
shrugged and began to make his way down the hill. He used the tall grass as
cover and slowly crouched his way across the field. It helped that he was
short. Soon, Andrew could hear raised voices. He inched closer, silent as a
shadow.
“Why do I have to go? You're the tracker!”
“Ya well, it’s your fault we had to check the forest! If you hadn't messed up
that arrest last week--”
“Oh shove it, that was a set up and you know it. Besides, I have  children.  Do
you want them to be fatherless?”
They went back and forth like this for a while. Andrew was unable to follow
most of it until a third man spoke.
“Can you two shut up? Look, we all know the rumours about this place, but
that’s all they are,  rumours. ”
“Oh ya? Then what about Oliver's kid? He never made it out, and we know for a
fact that he went in.” Andrew could hear the fear in the man’s voice.
“Oliver's son was six, he wouldn't have survived a regular forest on his own.
You're all scared shitless for no reason,” said the third, reasonable soldier.
Andrew looked at the forest being discussed. Sure, it looked a little creepy,
with its dark trees and grey looking plants, but he didn't see what all the
fuss was about.
“Why don't you go in then?” someone challenged.
“Damn you! We have our fucking orders and I would rather be taken by the Forest
of the Lost than explain to the king why we failed to do our jobs.”
“Alright, alright everyone calm down. We don't all have to go in. No use in us
all getting lost when we don't even know if our targets are in there. Lets draw
sticks so it's fair, ya?”
The men proceeded to break sticks. They were about to draw when Andrew noticed.
“Hey, where's Mark?”
Andrew wasn't fast enough. He felt a boot kick him in the back, and he fell
face first into the grass. His attacker went for his hands and wrenched them
behind his back, his knee pressing into his spine. Andrew fought harshly
against the man’s grip. He managed to get one arm free and, twisting quickly,
he dislodged him and drove his fist into the man’s unprotected jaw. In the next
instant he was on his feet, dagger in hand.
The soldier who had jumped him was getting up, and the rest of the group had
come running to see what the commotion was. Andrew found himself facing off
against five armoured men. Normally he'd take the odds, but he needed to take
what he'd learned and get to Eden's. He couldn't afford to be slowed down. One
of the soldiers pointed his sword at Andrew.
“Lower your weapon and identify yourself!”
Andrew thought that was amusing coming from a soldier that had no jurisdiction
in this country.
“Fuck off,” he told them.
Enraged, they charged at him. Andrew was quick and precise with his strikes. He
dodged under the first man’s sword and followed up with a stab to the back of
his knee. He body checked the next soldier to the ground and used the falling
momentum to roll forwards and avoid another one's strike. Before another attack
could be made, Andrew was sprinting to the treeline. If what the soldiers had
said before was true, then they would be too scared to follow him into the
forest. Even if a few were brave enough, the trees offered more hiding places
and cover from their attacks.
There were a few shouted curses before one of the soldiers dared to follow him.
Andrew threw his dagger right at his face. It bounced off his helmet, but the
pain still made him stumble. By the time the soldier looked up again, Andrew
was long gone.
Andrew slowed after five minutes of running. He was annoyed and sweaty and he
lost one of his knives. He took a moment to catch his breath and ground
himself. He thought about what he had discovered.
The Moriyama soldiers were apparently on a manhunt. He was almost certain they
weren't looking for Kevin, because Riko already knew where to find him. Plus,
they had said ‘targets’ not ‘target’. Andrew wanted to know who exactly made
the Moriyamas desperate enough to send soldiers into other countries. He would
have to ask Kevin if he knew of any major criminals that fit the bill. That is,
if he could get out of this forest.
Andrew was not a superstitious person by nature. The soldiers had said
something about no one ever leaving this forest once they enter it. Something
about the words sounded familiar and he struggled to place the memory. Renee’s
voice filled his head. He remembered having a theoretical conversation with her
about a war between Palmetto and Ravenel. Andrew had said that he would use the
forest near Exy Pass to ambush incoming armies. Renee had laughed as if it were
a joke.
“Don't you know the legend of that forest, Andrew? They call it the ‘Forest of
the Lost’. It is said that the forest was once protected by a powerful witch
during the Time of Magic. Those who trespassed without their permission would
be consumed by the trees, and would never again leave it. They say some power
still resides there, even after magic disappeared from the world. I wouldn't
risk an ambush if I were you.”
“Sounds like a bunch of horse shit.”
“Perhaps. But enough people have gone missing to make even the bravest of souls
wary to enter.”
Andrew took in his surroundings. He felt uneasy, which was ridiculous. He
wasn't about to let some made up story affect his judgement. It would be dark
soon and he had places to be. Andrew picked a direction at random and started
to walk.
And walk.
And walk some more.
He tried to shake the feeling that he was being watched. He fingered the hem of
his armband absently. It was a tell, and he forced himself to stop once he
noticed he was doing it. The sun was getting lower and the shadows grew long.
Soon it would be dark. Andrew should have found an exit by now. The forest
couldn't be  that  big.
As he wandered, he spared a moment to think about Kevin and the others. He
wondered if they had arrived at Eden’s safely. He wondered if his horse still
waited for him on the hill. Spitefully, he cursed Renee for putting stories in
his head.
Day turned to evening.
Andrew faced the fact that he would not be sleeping tonight. He had thought
that he would not have to live like this again; in an unfamiliar place, with no
roof over his head or food in his stomach, and nothing to his name but the
clothes on his back and the knives on his arms.
Something whispered to his left. Tense, he turned to find a giant willow tree,
its thousands of drooping branches swaying eerily in the...breeze. Andrew
looked at the trees around him and realized that there was no wind. Everything
was still except for the tree in front of him.
Interesting.
Ignoring the pang of apprehension in his gut, Andrew approached the willow and
cautiously reached out a hand. His fingers brushed over stiff leaves. He
paused, waiting to see if anything would happen. The willow just kept on
rustling. Curiously, cautiously, Andrew parted the branches with his arm and
stepped through. When he released the branches, they fell behind him like a
wall, and stilled.
His heart sped up by a fraction of a second. He reminded himself that magic was
a thing of the past and no longer existed.
Light shimmered through the branches on the other side of the tree. Like a
moth, Andrew was strangely drawn by it. His body was moving before his mind
could consent, and he bit his tongue to center himself. This place made him
lose control.
He hated it.
He whipped the branches to the side with a slice of his arm.
He blinked in surprise. A tower, bathed in the dying light of the sun, stood
tall in a clearing bordered by even taller trees. Wordlessly, Andrew walked
around the perimeter. It looked to be abandoned. Ivy crawled up the stone,
untamed. The grass was overgrown and the windows were crusted with dirt. The
roof...fuck, the roof was made of glass. What kind of idiot built a roof out of
glass?
Andrew told himself that he'd rather be under a glass roof than no roof. One
night in the dumb tower wouldn't kill him. Andrew circled the tower in search
of the door.
Of course there was no fucking door.
He managed to find the most useless tower known to mankind. Fuck it, he'd rest
under the haunted willow instead. Unless…
Andrew tilted his head and squinted. There, protruding from the keep of the
tower, was a balcony with glass doors. He fought not to roll his eyes. What use
were doors that were forty feet in the air? Who the hell built this
abomination? Andrew was pissed. Screw the willow, he was going to find a way
into this tower even if he had to climb it.
He froze.
Andrew pulled on the ivy to test its grip. It held tight. He yanked on it.
Still not a twitch. Andrew almost laughed.
Before the rational part of his brain could convince him that scaling a tower
with no lifeline was dangerous and crazy, the spiteful part of Andrew reminded
him that he would not be denied shelter because of some stupid architecture.
He was probably also crazy.
Andrew gripped the ivy and pulled himself up. He kept his eyes forward and his
body moving. Steadily, he climbed higher and higher. The ivy thinned out about
two thirds of the way up. He grit his teeth, back and shoulder muscles
straining to hold still. Slowly, Andrew managed to unsheath two slim daggers
from their sheaths. After some knifty manoeuvring and a breathless moment where
he nearly lost his grip, he managed to get a dagger in each hand. Without
thinking about it too hard, he reached out and shoved the blade into the
plaster between the stones. Miraculously, the knife stuck.
He did it again with the other hand. Then he pulled his feet out of the ivy.
Heart in his throat, Andrew’s feet swung free. They dangled beneath him, unable
to find purchase on the smooth stone. With a grunt, Andrew willed his arms to
move. He flexed his arms and pulled himself up until his elbows bent and his
head raised past his hands. He trembled, but managed to pull out a knife and
shove it several feet above him. He climbed the rest of the way like that, his
arms bulging with effort, legs nothing but dead weight. When at last he reached
the balcony, he flung himself over the railing and collapsed on the wood. His
chest heaved and his arms felt like they were tearing from his shoulders. His
heart was beating madly.
He didn't remember the last time he felt so much at once. He wondered if Bee
would consider this progress.
Probably not.
Andrew allowed himself another minute to stop shaking before he was pushing
himself to his feet once more. The doors looked old, but they had less grime on
them than the windows. He tried the knob but of course it was locked. Patience
at its limit, Andrew pulled back his arm and put his fist through the glass.
There was the sharp sound of glass hitting the floor, then nothing.
Andrew fit his hand through the hole and unlatched the lock. The door opened to
a dark, circular loft. Andrew stepped inside cautiously, something about the
space putting him on alert. Andrew had enough time to realize he wasn't alone
before a pan swung out of the darkness towards his face.
 
**************
 
Neil woke up that morning feeling restless and out of sync with himself. Today
would not be a good day. All through the morning he felt himself go through the
motions. He washed his face, dressed, ate some watery oatmeal for breakfast. He
spent the day like any other; he swept the floor even though it didn't need
sweeping, ran up and down the stairs until he was out of breath, and brushed
his insanely long hair.
It had grown quickly since he had arrived at the tower, nearly doubling in
length over the two and a half years he had lived here. It was probably around
fifty feet long now. Perhaps puberty was to blame, or perhaps the magic in it
was reacting to the residual power of the forest. Whatever the case, his hair
was becoming difficult to deal with. Despite not getting dirty (apparently his
magical hair self-cleaned), the strands were not immune to knots. He had to
brush it often if he left it down. Braiding it was a better solution, but it
was a difficult task when he had fifty feet of hair to work with.
Neil tried not to complain. If his biggest problem was his hair maintenance
then he certainly had it in him to be grateful. He had managed to hide safely
in this tower for years, only leaving it to steal some supplies from nearby
villages every six months or so. One of the merits of living in the forest was
it's convenient location. Neil lived right on the convergence of the borders of
Palmetto, Troy and Ravenel. He could sneak into any of the three nations in the
blink of an eye and disappear just as fast.
When Neil had found the tower, he had honestly only planned to stay long enough
to decide his next move. He had not expected to settle into a quiet life of
solitude and relative safety.
Neil remembered those first few weeks like they happened yesterday. He
remembered his desperation and fear, the weight of his resolve to survive
countered by the agonizing feeling of not knowing how to do so on his own. Neil
had spent three days in the keep of the tower, curled with his back to the wall
as he fought off panic attack after panic attack. It was only when he ran out
of food that he moved again. He might not have even managed that if it hadn't
been for the tiny bird next to him, crying out in hunger.
Neil had spent that day searching the tower for food and water. Imagine his
surprise when he found the cellar stocked full of beans and oats and slabs of
cured meats. He had been baffled. No one should have entered the tower since
him and his mother had left the first time. The tower did not have a door, at
least not where a person would expect a door to be. Afraid he might not be as
alone as he had first thought, Neil had swept the entire tower and surrounding
area for signs of human life. He had found nothing.
The mystery of the cellar was solved later that week when Neil had accidentally
fallen asleep before eating the food he had made for dinner. When he woke up
the next day, the beans were predictably sour. Curious, Neil had taken a
handful of food from the cellar and left it in the keep for a few days. The
food went bad, but when Neil checked the cellar, it was perfectly fine, fresh
even.
Food in the cellar did not spoil.
‘Magic,’  Neil had whispered.
With that revelation, Neil had begun to grasp the worth of his new hideout.
During the following weeks, Neil made it his goal to discover the secrets of
the tower and forest. And oh, how there  were  secrets.
Preoccupied with the knowledge that perhaps Magic wasn't as gone as the world
thought, Neil temporarily forgot about his panic, and the burning urge to keep
moving. He told himself that he had time to think things through, that the
tower was safe. He would take a month to rest and make a solid plan for his
future survival, then he would leave this place behind him, just as he had left
so many others.
One month turned into two.
Then three.
Before Neil knew it, an entire season had passed. Not a single soul had entered
the forest since his arrival. Neil was alone. It was strange at first, and he
did not trust the fragile peace to last. But then another season passed and
Neil hesitantly, foolishly, believed he could maybe,  just maybe , stop
running.
Two and a half years was the longest he had stayed in one place since the day
he became a runaway.
Even as Neil stood on his balcony, gazing out at the trees, quiet and calm, he
knew in his bones that this would not last. The feeling of restlessness
returned, along with the old itch in his legs to  run.
Something was coming.
Neil clutched at his mother's locket, the shape of it memorized by his fingers
after all this time. It, like the tower, contained a secret. Neil had gathered
the courage to open it one cold winter night, as he shivered in his bed and
longed for the warmth of his mother at his back.
It had snapped open surprisingly easy. Neil was almost offended that something
of his mother's would submit so willingly under a little pressure. Inside the
locket, written in a flowing hand, were the words ‘ Never forget from where you
came. -S.A.H .’
Neil didn't know what it meant or who wrote it. It was a secret about his
mother that he had not been privy to while she was alive. The message in the
locket made him aware of just how little he knew about his mother before she
was  a mother. Where was she from? What had been her maiden name? Did Neil have
family, people that were not trying to use him for their own gains?
He didn't know.
Did he want to know?
Neil sighed and stepped back inside. He made himself a small lunch of tomatoes
and cheese and some herb-crusted bread. Damn, Trojan bread was absolutely
delicious. It was unfortunate that he couldn't get more until spring. Once his
meal was finished, Neil brushed his hands off on his trousers and stood. He had
some work to do.
Neil descended the short flight of stairs to the second level of the keep. It
was the same sized space as the floor above, but was split into two areas; the
‘bedroom’ and the kitchen. His bedroom was just a cot and a chest of clothes,
which he had gone through and altered to fit him. The kitchen was basically a
hearth and a large wooden table. There was also an old wardrobe-like thing
where Neil had found various pots and other kitchen related tools. Neil used
the kitchen rarely for cooking. His meals were normally eaten fresh, unless he
was cooking his meat. The most he did was heat water for oatmeal or heat water
and put a bunch of stuff in it to make stew that he prayed would taste decent.
Hence, a majority of the space in the kitchen was used as storage. Neil kept
his miscellaneous tools and possessions piled haphazardly against the walls. He
carefully coaxed a shovel out of the mess, making sure not to hit anything and
cause the whole stack of objects to collapse. Shovel in hand, he jogged down
the main spiral staircase that stretched the entire height of the tower, his
hair trailing behind him with a soft  hiss.
Once he reached the bottom of the stairs, he bypassed the cellar door and
instead made his way to the end of the sort hallway. Nothing about the stone
wall looked particularly special, it seemed to be just a dead end. But Neil
knew the tower’s secrets and so, with the press of his hand against the
slightly discoloured brick, the floor shifted to reveal a hidden passage,
stairs leading down into the earth. This was the true entrance to the tower.
The passage was short and let out through a trapdoor hidden underneath moss and
the roots of a giant willow tree. Neil stepped out of the hole and swung the
shovel over his shoulder. He weaved his way through the trees, humming a tune
that he'd heard while living in the Golden Isles, and made his way to one of
his buried caches. One of the first things he did when he decided to remain at
the tower was split up his small fortune and bury his money in several
locations around the forest. Even though he had established that the tower was
pretty secure, Neil wouldn't take any risks. Old habits died hard, and all
that.
He reached the spot and stuck his spade into the dirt. Minutes later he was
walking back to the tower with a pouch full of gold Alliance coin. Something
told him he might need it soon.
The rest of the afternoon, Neil passed the time by doodling on his walls in
chalk. He had found lots of chalk on the upper floor of the keep. In fact he
had found many odd items and books that he could not identify.
Eventuality the sun began to set. Hungry, Neil set about putting on some water
for boiling some beans. As he rummaged through the wardrobe-thing for a pot, he
heard a faint but distinct ‘thump’. Neil's heart pulsed and his instincts took
over.
It could be nothing,  his mind said, even as he grabbed the closest thing that
could serve as a weapon, which turned out to be a heavy iron pan. Good enough.
Silently, Neil snuck up the stairs and entered the top floor of the keep. There
was barely any light, which he was thankful for. Using the shadows as cover,
Neil made his way closer to the balcony doors. He pressed himself against the
wall and waited. After what seemed like an eternity, there was a shift in the
shadows.
Something was out there.
Before he could decide what to do, Neil was shocked into a flinch by the fist
that smashed its way through the glass on the door. He watched, frozen, as the
hand shimmied the latch and flung the door inwards. The hand was followed by a
body.
It was a person.
A person had just  broken into his tower .
The stranger looked around, and Neil used the distraction to inch closer.
The man suddenly tensed, but it was too late, Ne was already swinging the pan
in a vicious arc, intent on bashing in the trespasser’s skull.
Instead of iron hitting bone, the pan collided with the man’s forearm, which he
had thrown up in defense with lightning quick speed. The man grunted. Neil had
a moment to be slightly impressed before the man’s other arm swung out and
punched him in the ribs.
Neil recoiled and took a few steps back. They faced one another, Neil holding
the frying pan in front of him, ready to defend or attack. But the stranger
looked at Neil as if the display was as threatening as a pissed off kitten.
Shaking out his arm, the stranger asked, “Who are you?”
Neil's mouth dropped open.
“I think that's my line. Who the hell are  you?  And why the fuck did you break
into my tower? ”
There was a long, tense pause where the man just stared at him as if Neil’s
existence was one giant inconvenience. Then:
“I thought it was abandoned.”
“So you just decided to start smashing things?” Neil yelled. His voice cracked
a bit, having not used it in a while. Plus he was worked up. Who was this
annoyingly impassive person? What was he doing here? Who sent him? Was he
looking for Neil? Was he just a random guy that decided to partake in some
casual breaking and entering to-- “Wait. How the hell did you get up here?”
A shrug. “I climbed.”
“You...what?”
But the stranger was not paying attention any more. He was looking around the
room again, eyes catching on the large circular garden that sat in the center.
His chin tilted up to glance at the ceiling, which was made up of glass panels.
He made a thoughtful humming noise. Neil narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The
man seemed to be uninterested in him, but the blood in Neil’s veins was still
roaring with energy.
“Who are you?” he asked again, taking a step closer. Neil realized his mistake
when the stranger’s gaze snapped back to him. Neil felt dread grip his spine
when the man’s eyes traveled from his face, down his body and along the floor.
Though the sunlight was nearly gone, there was just enough left for his hair to
reflect. The man raised an eyebrow as he followed the line of Neil’s hair
around the room.
Neil’s mother was probably rolling in her grave at his absolute stupidity.
He tried to calm down. Even if this stranger saw his hair, there was no one in
the forest for him to tell. Neil could kill him, to be safe, but the man’s
presence screamed ‘dangerous’ and Neil would rather not risk starting a fight
he may lose. Still, he needed to find a way to get him out of the tower before
he found out more secrets. Neil sighed and slowly lowered the pan.
“Look, whoever you are,” he said, “you can’t stay here if you don’t give me a
reason to trust you.”
“You would trust me if I gave you a name?”
“It would be a start,” Neil lied. There was no way in hell he would ever trust
anyone other than his mother. Neil took in the man’s non-reaction and decided
to try a different approach. “Or I could name you myself if you prefer. Perhaps
‘Rude Midget’ will do.”
“Oh, how unexpected. You may prove to be interesting.” The man, who was
actually really short, shorter than Neil even, tilted his head to the side.
“Fine, then. My name is Andrew Minyard.”
Andrew stepped closer, an intense expression in his eyes that Neil could not
define. Neil tried stop his instinctual urge to retreat, to keep out of the
stranger’s reach, but he still took a half step back. Andrew noticed and his
lips stretched to reveal his teeth. It did not look like a smile.
“And what about you? Going to tell me your name, or should I just call you
‘Rabbit’ ?” Andrew mocked.
Neil refused to be afraid.
“It’s Neil. Neil Josten.”
Chapter End Notes
     Plot twist: Neil hits Andrew with the heavy blunt object.
     Andrew: *sees problematic tower*
     Andrew: im going to fight it
     Fun fact for this chapter, I was going to end it at Andrew's POV but
     I couldn't live with the cliffhanger so HAVE IT ALL.
     Also, I'm thinking of making a map so you guys can visualise the
     locations better. Let me know if that is a thing you want to see.
     Concrit and comments welcome :)
***** On Your Own, You Won't Survive: Part 1 *****
Chapter Notes
     Hellooo! Long time no post. I just want to start off by saying that I
     loathe this chapter! It gave me so much trouble and even after 8
     rewrites its still not where I want it to be... BUT ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.
     At some point you just got to say fuck it! At least now I may be able
     to update more regularly again. Hopefully.
     Also shout out to my sister for helping me fix this mess!
     Chapter warnings: there is mention of a rape act, but I kept it vague
     so that it was implied, no details
See the end of the chapter for more notes
“Can you stop touching that, you're going to break it.”
Andrew ignored Neil and continued to poke and prod at the glass vials and other
scientific-looking instruments spread out on the long table. Neil had never
found any use for them so he had shoved the table against the wall and put them
out of his mind. Andrew, however, seemed to be curious about them. That or he
enjoyed annoying Neil. Sighing, Neil sent Andrew a warning look before he went
to fetch a broom.
Neil was careful to sweep up every bit of glass. He often went barefoot and
would rather not have to pick glass fragments out of his heels.
After Neil finished sweeping, Andrew grew bored of his poking game. He watched
as Neil put the broken glass into a bowl to dispose of later. After that they
watched each other silently, and Neil tried not to feel like a mouse cornered
by a cat.
“Not going to offer me a drink?” Andrew asked at last.
“You aren't my guest.”
“Such poor manners. Didn't your mother teach you better?”
The mention of his mother made anger and loneliness coil in his chest, and Neil
had to take several steadying breaths to stop himself from throwing something
across the room. Andrew was trying to provoke some sort of reaction out of him,
but Neil refused to give anything away so easily.
“Didn't yours teach you not to break into people's homes?” he retorted.
Andrew waved off his comment as if it was inconsequential. “I hate small talk.
Let's try something new, I ask you a question and you answer it.”
Neil pretended to think about it for a moment. “I have a better idea, how about
you fuck off.”
Andrew did not seem to like that. His disinterested demeanor dropped and was
replaced by quiet, barely restrained anger. One of his hands went to the cuff
of his armband and Neils eyes followed the motion intently. The armband was
black leather and it covered Andrew’s entire forearm. He wore one on each arm
and Neil was certain that they hid some sort of weapon. Knives most likely.
“I am losing my patience. You will answer my questions or I will make you hurt
until you do,” Andrew said. Neil could tell by his tone that the words were no
threat. Andrew was making a promise. Neil was all too familiar with people
promising him pain if he misbehaved.
“You can keep that in its sheath.” Neil motioned to where andrew had his
fingers halfway under his armband. “You've already made your point.”
Andrew didn't look surprised that Neil had figured out he was armed, but he did
appear to reassess how much of a threat Neil was, because he remained visibly
tense as he spoke.
“Someone isn’t as stupid as they look.”
“People tend to underestimate me.”
“I don't give a shit. Now tell me--” Neil held up a hand to cut him off.
“Hold on. I agree to answer your questions because I recognize we aren’t going
to get anywhere otherwise,” Neil said, ignoring the furious look Andrew gave
him for interrupting. “ However,  I want answers of my own. You are the
intruder here. I don't know you and since you showed up you have broken my
property and threatened me. If you think you can take what you want without
returning the favour then you will find that I can be extremely uncooperative.”
Maybe it was because of the nagging feeling in Neil's mind that’s had him
braced for a fight all day, or maybe it was just his attitude problem, but for
some reason he refused to be pushed around by Andrew. He would not give away
his secrets for free. Just this once, Neil was going to stand his ground.
Besides, Neil was the one with the upper hand here.
Andrew studied him for what seemed like an eternity. Neil crossed his arms,
tried to beat down the voice in his head telling him it was easier to just give
Andrew what he wanted so he would leave, and waited.
“Fine, have it your way,” Andrew growled, “We'll take turns, a question for a
question.”
“Who goes first?”
“I do. Now--”
“Ah, one more thing,” Neil interrupted again. Andrew looked like he wanted to
push Neil off the balcony. “You can't ask about my hair.”
“That wasn't the deal. You can't pick and choose what I ask.”
“My hair is off limits or I don't answer anything,” Neil said stubbornly.
“I'm going to kill you.”
“Corpses can’t answer your questions.”
Andrew took a step forward, pure fury on his face. Neil realized he may be
pushing past a breaking point. He held up his hands in surrender.
“I'll trade you something for the rule,” he said quickly. Andrew paused. “You
can ask me two questions in a row, or take a pass on one of mine.”
Another small eternity passed where Neil thought Andrew would kill him anyway,
but eventually Andrew slid a fragile mask of indifference over his anger.
“I get a pass.”
Neil nodded his acceptance and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.
“Are you done stalling now?” Andrew said in a voice that made it clear he would
not put up with any more interruptions. Neil inclined his head to prompt Andrew
to continue. “Fucking finally. How do I get out of this damn forest?”
Neil kept his expression carefully blank. It was impossible for Andrew to know
that Neil knew the way out. Neil wasn’t sure how long Andrew had been wandering
the forest, but Andrew must have realised that something was preventing him
from leaving. Neil decided to answer with a partial truth.
“You can’t get out,” Neil said. “What did you expect when you entered ‘The
Forest of the Lost’? It’s called that for a reason.”
“I told you not to lie to me,” Andrew growled. “Don’t try to sell me that
magical bullshit.”
“I’m not lying.” And technically, he wasn’t. Andrew couldn’t leave, at least
not without Neil’s help. “If you don’t believe me you’re welcome to run around
aimlessly until the trees drive you to madness.”
Andrew’s face did not betray his thoughts. Neil, who learned to read people in
order to survive, had to admit that Andrew was very good at keeping his mask in
place.
“My turn now. Where are you from?”
“How boring,” Andrew remarked, before adding “Palmetto.”
Neil cocked his head. “You don’t look it. Aren’t people from there supposed to
be on the taller side?”
Neil hoped the jab would sidetrack the conversation, but Andrew merely looked
Neil up and down derisively before dismissing the comment altogether.
“You made it sound like you believed the stories about this place, so how did
you wind up trapped here? Something tells me you aren’t that kind of stupid.”
Andrew said.
Instinct told Neil to mind his words. Andrew had already proven himself to be
observant, and Neil had a feeling that the wrong response would cost him. He
could lie, say that he didn’t believe until it was too late, but it was likely
Andrew wouldn’t be convinced.
“I came here  because  of the stories.” Another half-truth.  Andrew’s silence
felt like a demand to continue, so Neil explained, “Let’s just say the stories
worked more for me than against me.”
“A rabbit in a cage is both trapped and protected by it. You traded freedom for
survival,” Andrew stated bluntly.
Neil couldn’t hide his shock. How did Andrew figure that out so quickly?
“It’s an interesting story,” Andrew said. He put a finger to his chin and
tilted his head as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle. “But one detail
is bothering me. Tell me, little rabbit, what were you running from? Did you
upset some wolves? Steal from a bear? No?”
Andrew was moving forward. Trying to preserve their distance, Neil backed away.
Andrew looked at him like he wanted to peel away his skin layer by layer to
unravel his secrets. It took every bit of will Neil had to keep from running.
Somehow Neil felt in his bones that turning his back to Andrew was the ultimate
mistake.
“Perhaps I’m in the wrong category. Maybe your problem isn’t on the ground.”
Neil’s blood ran cold.
“Hey,  Neil, ” Andrew whispered, “How do you feel about Ravens?”
Neil flinched violently and Andrew’s eyes snapped into focus. Just like that,
Neil gave himself away.
“That’s quite the reaction.” By this point Andrew had backed Neil against the
wall. He watched Neil with dark eyes, as if waiting for Neil to condemn himself
further. Mind racing, Neil tried to come up with an explanation, a lie
convincing enough to fool Andrew, but it was difficult to focus. Andrew was too
close, too evaluating, and Neil found himself struggling to think. It was just
his luck that the random stranger that found him wasn’t some dumb country
peasant.
“Look, I don’t know where you’re from, but any sane person living in the Five
Nations knows to fear the Ravens. My reaction isn’t unusual,” Neil said
relatively smoothly.
“Maybe, maybe not.” Andrew glared at him. “But you  are  hiding something.”
Neil was hiding many things, actually.
“Everyone has something to hide,” he retorted. “You aren’t entitled to my life
story. You can’t break into my tower and accuse me of keeping secrets from you.
You have no right.”
Neil was deflecting. If he made the conversation about Andrew then he could
take the pressure off of himself.
“Your evasions are getting annoying.” Andrew at last stepped away from him. He
padded over to the garden and, without asking, plucked a ripe tomato from its
vine. With a quick motion, a knife suddenly appeared in his hand. He cut into
the tomato slowly, so that only the point of the knife broke the skin. “I’m
going to tell you something about myself, so pay attention. I promised to
protect someone. He also has issues with the black birds to the south. This
person is a coward and won't last long without me so I need to get back to him
before he does something stupid.”
“I don't see what--”
“Shush,” Andrew commanded. He sliced off some tomato and popped it in his
mouth. His expression didn’t shift as he chewed. “This is bitter as fuck.
Anyway, the reason i'm here in the first place is because some Moriyama
assholes were snooping around where they weren't supposed to be. You're going
to like this part. I followed them to Exy Pass and overheard that they were
looking for some people.”
Neil found himself hanging onto every word Andrew spoke. This was dangerous
news and Neil needed to know every detail. What was he up against? Had the
Moriyamas finally found him? No, that couldn’t be right. If the King knew where
he was then he would’ve sent The Butcher himself to hunt Neil down.
“They were too scared to search the forest, though,” Andrew continued, “So I
used that to my advantage when they tried to capture me. But who knows how long
they’ll stay away? Looks like your comfortable little life here won’t last much
longer.”
Neil could have said many things to deny what Andrew was implying. Andrew
believed Neil was the person they were looking for, and he was probably right.
There weren't many people who had the skill and resources to escape the Royal
Army once the King gave his orders. Even fewer managed to outrun The Butcher.
If the Moriyamas were desperate enough to send out search parties into foreign
countries in broad daylight, then Neil was definitely the one they were after.
But why  now ?
If the army could mobilize this much, why wait eight years to do it? Why not
pull out all the stops from the beginning? Up until now Neil had only dealt
with attacks from the shadows, never something this obvious. Him and his mother
would have seen them coming from miles away. So why change tactics?
All at once Neil dropped his clueless act. He didn’t care if Andrew figured him
out. He realized now that he never had the upper hand against Andrew. Even so,
Andrew was a nobody, and he was trapped in the forest. He wouldn’t be telling
Neil’s secrets to anyone.
“Did they say how many people they were after? Any descriptions?” Neil
demanded. He needed information, had to be prepared. Andrew ate another piece
of tomato and took his time swallowing.
“Done playing innocent? That makes things easier. That counts as two questions
by the way.” Andrew finished the last of his food. He wiped his hands on his
trousers and cleaned the knife with his black shirt. Once done, the knife
disappeared back under an armband. “The soldiers weren’t specific, but they
said ‘targets’. Plural.” Andrew paused for a moment. “Are we going to have
company?”
Neil barely heard him.
The soldiers thought his mother was still alive.
Lola must have never found her body. For a moment Neil was relieved. He had
wondered over the past years if he had hidden her remains well enough. He was
glad her grave stayed untouched.
Andrew snapped his fingers. “Answer me.”
“...No. It’s just me.” Neil clutched at his locket and pushed back the void of
loneliness within himself. He felt Andrew’s eyes on him, but Neil was too tired
to care.
Already, Neil was making plans to pack up and leave the forest. It was too
dangerous to stay any longer. The legends would not deter his pursuers anymore.
Anxiety crept its way into his mind. Neil hadn’t been out of his tower for
extended periods of time in nearly three years. Worse, he was frighteningly
close to Ravenel, and without the forest’s protection it would be all too easy
for enemies to find him. Neil was also grossly unfamiliar with the countries to
the north, with the exception of a few villages he used to stock up on
supplies. He had been to Troy once, back when his mother had guided him from
place to place. Even so, his memories were hazy at best, and Troy was a massive
country, rivaled only by Ravenel.
If Troy was unfamiliar to Neil, then Palmetto was completely alien. With King
Kengo’s soldiers openly searching for Neil, he would be lucky to last a week
undetected in the foreign landscape.
The thing that scared Neil the most though, was the matter of his hair. On the
run with his mother, it had been short enough to wrap around his torso, hidden
beneath layers of clothes. With its length nearly doubled, he no longer knew if
the same method would work.
Neil cursed himself for growing complacent. All these months he could have been
making short recon trips in preparation for the day he would have to flee
again. Instead he had let the tower’s safety coaxe the urgency and paranoia out
of his mind.
His mother would have beat him for it.
In an effort to dispel his nervous energy, Neil began to pace. He needed to
think of a place to run to, where even the King could not easily send his
soldiers. Neil would have to travel farther than ever to escape his reach. But
this time he’d have to do it by himself.
Before any grand journeys could take place, however, Neil needed to deal with
the small problem of Andrew Minyard.
Then a thought occurred to him.
“Why are you telling me this?” Neil asked.
Andrew’s smile sucked the heat from the room.
“Because when rabbits get scared, they run. Your cage won’t keep the birds away
anymore, yet you seem awfully calm. Where will you run to, I wonder, if we are
trapped here like you say?”
Neil was beginning to think he underestimated just how dangerous Andrew was; a
mistake that would likely cost him. Andrew tensed at Neil’s silence.
“Did you lie to me?” he growled. Andrew’s hand was halfway to his knife when
Neil heard it, the faint clank of metal and the snapping of twigs.
“Wait,” Neil hissed. Andrew must have heard the desperation in his voice,
because he froze. The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the loft, louder
than before. Andrew’s furious gaze stated loud and clear that he wasn’t
finished with Neil, but he dropped his arm and took on a less threatening pose.
When he was certain Andrew wouldn’t attack him, Neil rushed over to the east
side of the loft where a large bowl of water rested on a carved marble stand.
The fixture was imbedded in the floor and was almost as tall as Neil. He
remembered mistaking it for a fancy bird bath when he first arrived.
Currently, the water trembled in time to the footsteps, the surface glowing a
pale white. It had only done this once before, halfway through Neil’s first
year. He hadn’t understood what it was back then, or how something like this
was possible. He remembered how frightened he was, how the water quivered and
shook, growing more and more violent until finally Neil could do nothing but
touch it. He remembered how the water calmed immediately and how the white glow
dispersed to reveal an image. What Neil saw had left him shaken for hours.
The water had shown a man, middle aged and burly, dragging a young woman
through the trees. His entire demeanour screamed aggressive, but Neil was no
less surprised when the man began to beat the woman. He had watched in horror
as the woman cried out for help. Neil had looked away when the man had ripped
open the front of her dress. Neil had focused on holding down his lunch as the
sounds of violence continued. When it was quiet again, Neil had found the
resolve to glance back at the water. He saw the woman, laying still on the
ground, the man standing over her, fixing his pants.
He ended up retching onto the floor.
The water returned to normal once the man walked away from the woman. Neil
didn’t move from his spot until the next day. Later, as Neil was wandering the
forest, he came across the man. By the time the man noticed he was not alone,
Neil had his dagger between his ribs.
The trees soaked up the man’s blood and the wind hummed with satisfaction.
Back at the tower, Neil tried to figure out how to make the water bowl work. He
knew with a degree of certainty, that the water had shown him an event that
took place in the present, or near present, as proven by the presence of the
man in the forest. If that was the case, he wanted to find the woman’s body, to
at least give her a burial.
It took him days to solve, and he finally succeeded when he found a passage
about something called  scrying  in one of the old books scattered throughout
the tower.  
He eventually found the woman, and had put her to rest. Hands covered in dirt,
Neil had tried not to think about the other grave he had dug recently, his
mother’s death still a fresh wound on his heart.
Since the first scrying event, Neil practiced seeing things through the water.
He puzzled over why it activated on it’s own in the first place, but could
never figure out the answer. He grew frustrated when he learned that he could
only see as far as the forest’s borders. What was the use of spying magic if he
couldn’t even keep tabs on his father? Eventually, Neil stopped using the
water. It remained dormant, never activating itself again.
Until today.
Neil saw Andrew stop a few feet away from the basin, his eyes full of guarded
interest and reflected white light. He watched Neil reach out a steady hand,
fingertips brushing the water slightly.
Just like the first time, the water leveled out and the light dimmed. Then Neil
saw .
Two soldiers, dressed in the black and red  colours of the Moriyama royal
family were marching their way through the forest.
“Friends of yours?” Neil managed to say through clenched teeth.
“I’m pretty sure they’re here for you.”
Neil swiped his hand through the water viciously, causing the image to vanish.
Not a drop of water spilled from the bowl. “You’re right. Fortunately, they’re
still far off, which gives me time to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?”
“I don’t think it’s your turn to ask a question.”
“You never answered my other one,” Andrew reminded him darkly.
Neil let out a harsh breath. He did not have time to deal with this.
“Alright,  fuck , you're stubborn.” Neil backed away from the basin and faced
Andrew head on. “I didn't lie to you...technically. You asked me how  you
could get out of the forest, and  you  can’t. Not alone, at least.”
Andrew studied him, probably deciding if it was worth it to cut Neil for his
omission or not.
“Only you know the way out.” He didn't phrase it like a question, so Neil
didn't bother confirming it. “I don't like being deceived. Do not do it again.”
Neil shrugged and tried to slip around Andrew. Andrew allowed it but Neil felt
eyes on him as he walked around the loft. It was pitch black by now, the night
fully settled. Neil made his way to one of the many windows lining the walls.
It was the only window he ever opened, and he only did so at night. Though used
regularly, it was just as dirty as the rest in order to keep the appearance of
abandonment for the tower.
He flicked the latch and opened the panes of crusted glass. Neil debated just
leaving it at that, but the urgency in his blood and the threat of the soldiers
convinced him otherwise. He glanced at Andrew, who continued to watch him with
an air of boredom, all previous intensity gone for the moment. Sighing, Neil
leaned his head out the window, put two fingers in his mouth and blew. The
piercing whistle was sharp and long. The sound split the night for a few
seconds before tapering off into silence again.
When Neil turned back around, Andrew had one eyebrow raised slightly, but
didn't deign to comment.
“My turn, correct?” Neil asked with a tilt of his head. “Those soldiers, were
they the ones who chased you here, or are they different?”
“I recognize them.”
Neil nodded to himself. He was going to go after the soldiers. It was a little
reckless, but he needed more answers than what Andrew could provide. Neil
wasn't powerless in this forest, he was confident he would not be beaten in its
domain.
“That glowing water,” Andrew began, “the image in it, what was that whole
thing?”
Neil laughed shortly at Andrew’s hesitant curiosity. It was funny that Andrew
seemed unaffected by the spectacle of magic other than slight puzzlement.
“It was a scrying vision. Magic,” Neil added. Andrew blinked. “Ah, right, you
don't believe in ‘magical bullshit’. This must be very confusing for you. Is
this enough proof for you or do I need to make the trees talk to really make it
sink in?”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“Often. I actually haven't spoken to someone in half a year,” Andrew cocked his
head, and Neil mentally slapped himself. Andrew did  not  need to know that.
Why was he slipping up so much today? He wasn’t a bumbling child anymore, but
he certainly was acting like one. His mother would be furious. “Forget I said
that.”
Neil looked back at the basin. “Scrying means that whatever I see in there―” he
pointed to the water, “―is happening outside. I normally have to activate it,
though. I think just now... I think it may have been a warning.”
It was a plausible theory; the basin activated whenever someone trespassed in
the forest. But if that were true, why did it not warn Neil about Andrew’s
arrival? Despite what Neil knew about magic, there were still infinite things
he didn't understand.
“I don't care. All I need from you is the way out,” Andrew said.
“And why the hell should I help you?”
“So I don't stab you, perhaps?”
“You can’t threaten me with that. If I’m injured, I can’t lead you out, not to
mention I'll be even less inclined to do so,” Neil snapped.
“What is it that you want then?” Andrew demanded.
Neil froze. “What?”
“You obviously won't help me since you don’t trust me and have a list of
problems that need your attention at the moment,” Andrew began, tone mocking.
“So I’m offering a trade. You help me and I return the favour. Fair, just like
our little truth game. So what is it you want?”
Neil could hardly breathe. Here was this complete stranger― who didn’t know
anything about Neil other than he was a wanted criminal running from the most
brutal monarchy in the land―choosing to nonchalantly offer Neil a deal. He had
to be insane.
Neil had to be worse than insane because he was  considering  it.
“Why should I trust you?” Neil hedged.
“Why should I trust you?”Andrew shot back. “Don’t over complicate this, Neil.We
make a deal, see it through, then part ways and never think of it again. Take
it or leave it, but I won't ask again.”
Alarm bells were going off in Neils head. Andrews offer felt like making a deal
with a demon. His mother's voice was in his bones, screaming at him to  trust
no one . But this wasn’t trust. It was a pact, a promise sealed with the
knowledge of mutual destruction if it should be broken. Neil wouldn’t trust
Andrew, but working with him might prove to be beneficial.
Before Neil could give a (possibly hasty) answer, there came a loud screech
from the window, followed by the flapping of large wings. Neil reached out his
arm just in time to catch his companion. Talons, at least an inch long, dug
into his forearm and pinched at his flesh. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, so the
sting of them was more intense than usual.
Neil turned his head to look over the bird, now a foot tall and much heavier
than the scrawny infant he had been when Neil found him. It turned out the
little thing was a hawk. With Neil's care, he had grown into a swift predator
of the skies.
“Welcome back,” Neil greeted. A ruffle of feathers was the only reply. The hawk
only had eyes for the stranger in his home.
Andrew, to his credit, kept calm under the unblinking gaze, despite the fact
that he had to have noticed the razor sharp beak and black talons that were
making Neils arm spot with blood.
“Andrew, this is Striker.” Neil bit his lip to prevent a laugh at Andrew’s
disbelieving exhale of ‘what the fuck’. It was the most emotion Neil had seen
on him, and Neil couldn’t resist taking advantage of the moment. “Striker, this
grumpy imp is Andrew. Say hello.”
Striker raised his wings to show off his impressive four foot wingspan, and let
out a sharp screech. Andrew narrowed his eyes. Neil grinned despite himself. He
brought Striker over to his perch, which was a simple wooden stand that Neil
had fashioned himself. He quickly looked over Striker’s deep red feathers for
injury before deeming him unharmed. There wasn’t much that could hurt a hawk,
but sometimes even prey could fight back if they were desperate enough to live.
Neil would know.
“I won’t agree to your deal. Not until I find out all I can from those soldiers
in the forest,” Neil added before Andrew could argue. “If you can wait a few
hours, I’ll give you my answer then.”
Andrew watched him for a minute before nodding curtly. “Have it your way. But
I'm coming with you.”
Neil tilted his head in confusion.
“You aren’t the only one who wants answers. Now hurry up, I need to make
someone bleed and apparently it can’t be you.”
Chapter End Notes
     I think I should start a count for bad Exy references.
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