by Apollo Surge
"I'll do my best," Sawyer promised.
"So," Jagger said loudly, declaring the end of that sad line of questioning. "Made up your mind about the babe yet?"
Sawyer's ears flicked back and he ducked his head. "Not really. Not completely."
"You've been carrying the damn thing more than a quarter of the year," Jagger pointed out. "I know what that does to a human body. I'd say your hearts decided, even if the rest of you hasn't caught on yet."
"...I was starting to think, maybe, that it could work," Sawyer admitted.
"Really?" Jagged barked with laughter. "What a surprise! And what brought that about?"
Sawyer shifted uncomfortably, flustered.
"There are these kids at the house."
"And seeing them gave you the baby bug?" Jagger asked. "Thought they were just so cute you had to go out and get your own?"
"No," Sawyer said quickly. "God, no, I'm terrified of them. I'm so afraid of hurting them or scaring them I get nervous just going near them. But they love me. They think I'm some kind of hero. And I... like thinking that I make them feel safer."
"Interesting," Jagger said, giving Sawyer a thoughtful look. "Is it being a hero you want?"
Sawyer shook his head, ears flopping. No, that definitely wasn't it.
"I want to keep them safe," he said, struggling to find the words for feelings he had barely admitted to yet. "I want to keep them safe so much it hurts. If I could make sure just one person doesn't go through what I did, it would mean everything. I want to protect them. I want to be part of why they grow up happy. Not just because I want to do better than my dad, though I guess that's part of it. I guess I just want to know there's someone in the world who remembers me as a good part of their life. Is that selfish? Maybe that's the wrong reason to want to have a kid."
"There's lots of wrong reasons to want to have children," Jagger said thoughtfully, looking out toward the pines. "Thinking it'll save a relationship, for one. Or thinking you have to, because you're a certain age or the people around you are expecting it or you won't be 'complete' without it. Or any number of foolish misconceptions and obligations. But wanting to be the reason someone grew up safe and happy is hardly one of them. If that's really why you want to have this babe – purely because you want to give your all to making sure they have the best life you can give them – then I'd say you're doing a lot better than most folks already."
Sawyer looked away, wishing that reassured him more.
"But you're still doubting," Jagger observed. "Why?"
"Elliot," he admitted at last.
"Ah, troubles with the father I take it," Jagger said with a sympathetic nod.
"We've had problems before," Sawyer said with an uneasy roll of his shoulders. "But before I understood them. I don't know what's happening with him now. He's pulled away from me and I don't know why."
"Well I would suggest asking, first of all," the spirit said lightly. "The simplest solution and the least often used."
"I'm not sure he'd tell me," Sawyer said, heart squeezing.
"No, I'd say you're more afraid that he will," Jagger corrected. "And it'll be something you can't fix."
"Since when did you become a relationship counselor?" Sawyer said, a bit sour.
"I've been watching over humans on this mountain since it was formed," Jagger replied impatiently. "I've observed a thing or two. For example, that you can't solve a problem if you don't know what it is. Additionally, no human, as far as I'm aware, can read minds. Talk to your man already. And tell him about the babe while you're at it! Were you planning to wait until the damn thing is crowning?"
Sawyer hunched his shoulders, fur spiking up, and finally gave up, getting to his paws and grabbing his bag.
"I think that's enough talk therapy for me today," he muttered. He squirmed into the strap of the bag again, then tried to shake off his bitterness. He didn't want to leave on a sour note if this might be the last time they saw each other. "Thank you, by the way. For everything."
Jagger threw a pinecone at him, which bounced off his snout.
"Didn't I tell you to never thank a Fae?" he scolded. "Just bring me some more of those treats to show your gratitude. And don't wait a month this time!"
Sawyer pawed at his nose, but he was laughing on the inside.
"All right," he agreed. "And I'll... try to talk to Elliot."
Jagger nodded in satisfaction, and Sawyer turned to pad away. Before he'd gone more than three steps Jagger called out to him.
"Wait!"
"What is it?" Sawyer asked, stopping mid stride.
"You've got a hunter's mark on you," Jagger said ominously. "A spot on your magic. Something's after you."
As though on cue, an unseasonably chilly wind blew through the trees. More than unseasonable, Sawyer realized, his heart beating too fast as he saw frost creeping over the bark of the trees.
"What do I do?" Sawyer asked, backing away slowly from the direction the wind had come, tail between his legs. A deep, cold dread which he knew was not his own fear but an effect of the magic, settled heavy as a stone on his heart.
"Run home," Jagger urged. "Don't stop till you're past the wards. Don't look back. Go!"
Sawyer bolted without a second thought, sprinting down the mountain with all the speed in his long legs, bounding over roots and stones. He'd never run this fast in his life, as though the devil himself were on his heels. For all Sawyer knew, he was.
Chapter Seventeen
As fast as Sawyer ran, whatever was after him seemed to be faster. A blizzard sprung up around him in defiance of the season. A freezing wind howled to either side of him. Ice blinded his eyes and numbed his paws. Still he ran, following the slope of the land and praying it would lead him home.
The storm worsened, and he could hear a pounding behind him like great hooves striking the earth, growing closer all the time. It took all he had not to look back, his yellow eyes wide as saucers as he tried to see through the white out, his red mouth open to gasp frigid air into his burning lungs.
"Don't look back," he thought, feeling his fur stirred by the breath of something he could not imagine. "Don't look back!"
All at once, he felt a sharp stab at the back of his neck. He yelped, twisting his head back on instinct to snap at it, cursing himself for his stupidity as his teeth closed on nothing but a patch of ice.
For a moment his vision was filled with the shape of something huge and terrible- a creature like a flayed horse, its raw flesh frozen and dripping ice, the shape of a rider fused to its back. The same cold indifferent malice glittered in the eyes of both rider and mount, shining like shards of mirror.
And then, all at once, the storm vanished in a last blinding gust.
The bright early summer day returned, frost already melting on the still waving pines. By the time they stilled there was almost no sign of the strange storm, save the chill still on Sawyer's bones. He spun in a confused circle, searching for the monster. Instead, as he turned around again he yelped at the sight of a man.
No, not a man, Sawyer realized quickly. Just something wearing the shape of one. What it really was lingered, glimpsed at the edges of Sawyer's vision when the stranger moved.
He looked, or had chosen to look, like a warrior from a medieval fantasy. Older, perhaps in his late forties. Grizzled, with dark hair the color of a raven's wing, kept long and braided to match his full beard. He was broad and heavy set with dense muscle under a dark blue padded doublet and a shirt of gleaming silver scale. He held in front of him what Sawyer at first glance took for a sword, before realizing it was nothing so refined. It was a long, blackened, twisted piece of iron, thick as Sawyer's arm and as long as the man's leg. Despite the disguise, the same cold indifference was in the stranger's eyes.
"Be still, beast," the stranger said, his voice deep and rolling as the sound of a distant avalanche. "I will speak with you."
"No thanks," Sawyer thought, backing away.
"It was not a question," t
he stranger said, unfazed. "You will hear me. For your own sake, and that of the child you carry."
Sawyer flinched.
"Fine," he said, still eyeing the stranger warily. "So spit it out then."
Sawyer waited, expecting threats or riddles or some kind of stupid trick to try and trap him.
"I do not come with threats," the stranger said. "But with an offer. You are the Omega of this pack. You have the authority to declare an alliance."
"What?" Sawyer's hackles dropped, surprise overriding his fear. "What are you talking about?"
"I have come to you, Omega, in great respect, in representation of the Unseelie Court," the man said, bowing his head. Sawyer kind of doubted the 'great respect' part, but he didn't interrupt. "We offer an alliance. Swear yourselves and this mountain to us, and we will allow you your sovereignty and defend you from the Seelie."
Sawyer's breath caught, excitement rising. Could this be the way out? What was the catch?
"Sovereignty?" he repeated. "You wouldn't change any of us, or force us to join your army?"
"Indeed," the Unseelie confirmed. "You, and all those under your protection, will be allowed to continue to live as you have until the end of your days. We will interfere only as much as necessary to protect you from the Seelie."
"But you would own the mountain?" Sawyer asked, as suspicious as he was hopeful.
"Yes. The land will be ours in name. You will continue to live and work on it with our gracious permission."
"And you're just offering me this?" Sawyer asked, squinting. "You're not going to challenge me to a game of chance and gamble for it or something? Make me answer riddles or throw a bunch of bullshit illusions at me?"
"It is for the Summer Court to beguile," said the man. "There are no poisonous fruits in Winter. Spiders and serpents die at the first frost. We are clear and certain and inevitable."
Though the stranger spoke with a grave certainty that made everything he said seem absolute, Sawyer wasn't so quick to believe it. Especially because he was beginning to figure out the catch.
"Sounds pretty great," Sawyer said, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "Now, when you say we'd be left alone 'until the end of our days' do you think that would be in the range of weeks or more like hours?"
The Unseelie was silent, his expression as still as cold marble.
"Because I'm figuring a day at the outside," Sawyer continued. "Once you have access to the ancient magic here and in the other wolf territories and turn it on the Seelie. Did you think I'd just forget what the Seelie wanted this place for to begin with? We're fucked no matter which one of you win. I'm not handing you a weapon to destroy the world."
"Then you will hand it to the Seelie instead," the man said calmly. He took a hand, hidden in a thick dark glove, and brought it slowly to point at the sun, high above them. "It is their season. At Midsummer they will be at the peak of their strength. No amount of wards will protect you on that day. They will overwhelm us and take this place, and all of you with it, and the world will end in fire."
Sawyer felt a tremor of fear run through him. Midsummer was only a few weeks away, near the end of June. Did they really have so little time? Would the Council be able to stop this before then? The stranger returned his hand to his weapon, his stare cold and pitiless.
"But Winter is kinder. Surrender to us, and you will live months or years in the glory of our triumph, and greet the final day in a deep, peaceful slumber. This is preferable."
Sawyer scoffed, unconvinced and trying to cover his fear with bravado.
"As a person who has experienced hypothermia and starvation I'd like to say first of all, it's really not, and secondly, fuck you."
"I see," the man said, unbothered. "Then you will be relieved to know that you will not live long enough to burn."
Sawyer swallowed, that stone of dread rolling over in his chest.
"The Unseelie are desperate," the man said. "We will seek victory at any cost, but if we cannot have it, we will at least ensure the Seelie cannot have it either."
"This place is still protected," Sawyer said, hoping he was right. "You may be allowed through the barriers now, but you're still just guests here. And you can't get through the wards."
"We will destroy the mountain if we must," the man said, even and cold. "We will open up the earth to swallow it, raise the seas and drown it. We will decimate this continent from the pole to the equator if we must."
Sawyer's fur stood on end. They couldn't have that kind of power, could they?
"Why?" he demanded. "Why do you want to end the world so badly? Why can't you just stop? Go the fuck back to fairy land and leave us alone!"
"We do not have a choice," the Unseelie replied. "As light must bend when it strikes a glass, as a glass dropped must fall and shatter, so must we fight the Seelie, always, and with all we are. It is our nature."
His expression was a stoic as ever, but for a moment Sawyer thought he saw something else touch his eyes.
"You don't want to though, do you?" Sawyer asked.
The man stared at Sawyer silently for a long moment.
"Speak to me with your other face," he said suddenly, with a strange timbre to his deep, steady voice. "I will see you as you are."
"Why?"
"I am told omegas are beautiful. I am rarely shown beautiful things. "
"You'll be disappointed. I'm not that pretty."
"Still, I will see you."
Sawyer considered it for a moment, suspicious, but then he complied, rising slowly from his wolf shape to stand naked before the Unseelie. The stranger's eyes softened at the site of him, still too thin and boney from years on the road, despite all Elliot's efforts to fatten him up, decorated with scars from before his awakening as a shifter which now would never heal. The pronounced curve of his stomach and the white, antler shaped scar in the center of his chest. The day was warm on his tanned skin, but when the breeze blew past the Unseelie man it was cold as ice and Sawyer shivered as it stirred the fine dark hair on his arms and belly.
"You were wrong," the stranger said after a moment. "You are as beautiful as they promised. I expected Summer's softness, but you are lovely in Winter's way."
Sawyer hadn't cared about being naked before, but the strange flattery made him look away, uncomfortable, though he refused to cover himself or look like he was ashamed. Then the wind blew from behind the Unseelie again and Sawyer, shivering, decided avoiding frostbite was more important than his pride.
"You have been touched by Winter before," the Unseelie man said, eyes on the white scar at Sawyer's sternum.
"Not really," Sawyer muttered, shrugging and taking his bag from his shoulder to retrieve his pants. "They just have some things in common."
The man nodded in understanding.
"I will have your name," he said.
Sawyer snorted, almost dropping his bag.
"The hell you will," he replied. Even he wasn't that stupid. Not telling Fae your name was the first thing they had taught the kids. And the Unseelie's wording had been especially dangerous.
The man didn't seem disappointed by the failure. Sawyer wondered if it had just been an obligatory thing, like he had to try. Fae seemed to have a lot of that.
"I will know a name by which I might call you," the Unseelie corrected. Sawyer turned the phrase over quickly, looking for traps, and didn't find any, though he remained suspicious.
"You can call me Black Wolf," he said finally. "The kids seem to like that one."
The Unseelie nodded in acceptance.
"Is there something I should call you?" Sawyer asked, digging in his bag again.
"Nuckelavee," the stranger replied at once.
Sawyer grimaced, remembering that name from Serena's lessons on the fae. It matched the nightmarish creature he'd seen earlier, an evil spirit of the winter ocean from the Orkney Islands. But that was useful information. If he was remembering right, Nucklavee couldn't cross fresh water. There was a stream not too far from here… He left
his pants in the bag, grabbing his loose over shirt instead and pulling it on over his head, grateful that it was long enough to mostly cover him.
"That's what you are," Sawyer said as he dressed. "I meant more like a personal name."
"I have none," said the Nuckelavee. "I was made as I am before I was given one. I have not needed one since."
"Made as you are?" Sawyer asked, confused, pausing with his arm through one sleeve.
"Truth must answer truth," said the Unseelie. "I will speak truth to you if you speak truth to me."
Sawyer hesitated, unease coiling in his belly, and stalled while he finished getting his shirt on. The stranger didn't seem hostile at the moment, but Sawyer didn't think he could outrun him, and he had a feeling he was going to have to. He needed to draw this out while he made a plan.
"All right," he agreed, hoping it was the right choice.
"I am a changeling," the Nuckelavee said without hesitation. "Taken as an infant and a Fae child left in my place. The Fae do not raise their own offspring. They leave them with humans and collect them when they are old enough to be of use to the Court. The stolen ones are made to be useful as well, or disposed of. I was kept a few years, until I grew too large and troublesome and they bored of me. Then I was bound by my skin to the back of a fae mount and driven into the ocean, to drown or to change. I would not be drowned."
"You're a near-fae." Sawyer summarized, fascinated and horrified.
"An insult," The Nuckelavee declared. "A changeling is a station above one of the transformed, if only just. Who is your child's father?"
Sawyer took a step back, startled by the bluntness of the question. He supposed his had been a pretty personal question too. Still. He bared his teeth for a moment, wrestling with it, but he knew he couldn't lie or refuse to answer.
"My mate," he said at last, keeping it brief. "The Alpha of my pack."
