by Apollo Surge
Sawyer wasn't buying it.
"That's what you wanted from the beginning, isn't it?" he said. "You were just hoping to snag a two-for-one deal."
Goldenrod looked annoyed for a moment, but then shrugged.
"Can you blame me, really? And think of it this way! If you give yourself to me along with the child you'll be able to raise it if you like. We'd be a proper little family!"
Sawyer's lip curled in disgust and Goldenrod had the audacity to look hurt.
"What do you want my baby for?" Sawyer demanded. "What purpose does it serve toward the Seelie Court? Truth for truth."
Goldenrod's saccharine used car salesman routine dropped immediately. He sat up, unfolding his legs onto solid ground again.
"Be very certain you want to play this game, my dear. It may not end how you would like it to."
"You're right," Sawyer said. "First, new rule. None of the questions either of us asked earlier in the conversation, or any other conversation we had before I said truth for truth, can be used for this game."
"You can't just declare new rules," Goldenrod said, his expression akin to a sheltered Victorian ingénue finding her new husband with the scullery maid.
"Yeah, I can, I'm human," Sawyer said, standing up straighter. "Just one of those fascinating pointless things we do. Now answer the question. How does having my baby help you or the Seelie?"
Goldenrod was clearly flustered.
"All right," he hissed. "Fine, you little pest. If you were less cute I would be inflicting terrible things on you right now, you know. I may anyway. There's weeks till Midsummer yet. I could make them feel like an eternity."
"Jesus Christ, you are physically incapable of getting to the point," Sawyer complained. "Answer the question!"
"I'm getting there!" Goldenrod snapped, his voice underlined with the angry buzzing of wings and clicking of jaws. Sawyer recoiled instinctively and, apparently satisfied by that flicker of fear, Goldenrod leaned back, reclining against the air as though it were a wall, expression sullen. "The Seelie Court has become aware of a plan by the Unseelie to destroy the mountain before Midsummer. While we are confident in our ability to stop them, the Unseelie have a tendency to become more dangerous the weaker they are. Like wounded animals. The Seelie have decided it may be wise to pursue... alternatives. In case the mountain ceases to be a viable option. Human unborn are an incredible source of magical potentiality. And yours in particular seems to be unusually potent. It's nothing compared to the power in the mountain of course, but it is significant. Enough to allow us to dominate the Unseelie through the coming winter. Which, while not a victory, is certainly appealing. And far, far less risky than attempting to take the mountain, which will likely reduce us to almost nothing and, if we fail, leave us easy prey for the Unseelie. We are compelled to victory, always. But Queen Titania has not reigned this long by throwing herself heedlessly after every slim chance of success. Her caution prioritizes the survival of the Court and the possibility of future victory over incautiously pursuing something that may weaken us for decades and award us nothing. Additionally, by acquiring the child myself and retaining a degree of power over it, I will greatly elevate my own position in the Court. The significant benefits of which you would be able to enjoy as my companion, by the way."
"Yeah, that's never going to happen," Sawyer said, looking away as he contemplated Goldenrod's answer, hoping he'd be able to remember it all in the morning. Would the Seelie really give up on the mountain if an easier target appeared? If the Seelie gave up, the Unseelie would have no reason to destroy the mountain. And if Goldenrod could really undo whatever flaw in the treaty was allowing Fae into the territory...
"You're considering it," Goldenrod said, grinning, ignoring Sawyer's glare. "As I said before, I would gladly accept only the child, if you're really so insistent on playing hard to get. It really would be the wisest decision for someone in your position, what with your relationship with the father on the rocks anyway."
Sawyer shot him a dark look.
"You don't know anything about my relationship."
Goldenrod scoffed.
"I saw that dream, pet," he said, and Sawyer felt his face heat. "I imagine even you could connect the dots. And considering he is the Alpha of your pack, I would imagine that leaves your living situation somewhat imperiled as well. Certainly not ideal conditions for raising a child."
Sawyer put a hand to his stomach, though it was flat in the dream. He hadn't thought about that. He didn't imagine Elliot would make him leave, but would he really be able to make himself stay after all of this? He shook it off. That didn't matter right now. Nicholas had made it clear what happened to children taken by the Fae.
"Yeah, I'm sure you'd be a much better father," he said sarcastically. "Until you got bored."
"Then come with me," Goldenrod said at once, smiling, "and you can ensure it receives only the tenderest of care. It would solve your need for a new home as well. You could raise your child in a palace, a prince, and you the pampered consort of a Lord of the Summer Court. I am quite generous to my pets, when they are obedient. Or, if you prefer, you could go back on the run and raise it in a series of motels and homeless shelters until the state quite rightly takes it from you. Assuming the world doesn't end a few weeks from now. Which it will. Unless you're willing to deal with me."
Sawyer's hands clenched at his sides, weighing the options and finding them all unthinkable. He couldn't risk dooming the entire world to save himself. But neither could he give up an innocent child to the Fae unprotected, even if it hadn't been his own. At the same time, he was certain he wouldn't live long if he gave himself to Goldenrod, one way or another. Almost worst of all was the idea of ending up on the street again with a child, seeing it taken from him and put into the foster system, inflicting on it the very life he'd suffered. He shook his head, paralyzed by indecision.
"Ask your question," he said, to buy time.
"If you insist," Goldenrod said with a gracious little bow. But there was a nasty gleam in his eye that made Sawyer uneasy. "Now, that lover of yours, the one who has so tragically abandoned you and your child-"
Sawyer's jaw clenched and he struggled to hide the flash of anger and hurt. Goldenrod was clearly just trying to get under his skin.
"The last time he held you in his arms," Goldenrod continued, clearly relishing Sawyer's discomfort. "When he whispered your name - or shouted it, as the case may have been - what name did he call you by?"
Sawyer froze, ice in his veins. He knew the power names had for the Fae, and what Goldenrod intended. His mind raced, searching for a way out, until he realized he didn't need one.
"Sawyer," he answered honestly. "If that's all you wanted, I'd like to go back to my dream now."
Goldenrod seemed slightly surprised by how easy that had been, but he covered it well, smiling like the cat who'd got the canary. Sawyer half expected him to try and use the name immediately, but instead Goldenrod just shrugged, floating back to recline in the air two feet above the flowers again.
"Of course! If that's what you like," the Seelie said. "But I think you'd rather play one more round first. I know the answer to a question that I think you'd really like to hear."
"I seriously doubt that," Sawyer said, tired of this and eager to get back to sleep.
"I can tell you what the Moon has hidden from you," Goldenrod said, catching Sawyer's attention again. "I can tell you why you've always felt restless and out of place, even among the shifters. Why you dream of being lost and hunted every night."
"Pretty sure a good therapist could tell me both of those things," Sawyer countered.
"I can tell you who the true father of that child is," Goldenrod said, barely above a whisper, echoed by the rustle of wings and the skitter of carapace limbs, raising the hair on Sawyer's arms.
"I already know that," Sawyer said immediately, steeling himself. "And you aren't going to convince me of anything else, so quit while you're ahead."
; "Suit yourself," Goldenrod replied, backing off. "If you ever change your mind, you need only call for me."
"Not going to happen," Sawyer said. "The game is over. Let me go back to sleep."
"In that case, what about my offer?" Goldenrod asked. "Have you decided?"
"I need time," Sawyer said, looking away. "To think about it."
"We haven't much time left," Goldenrod pointed out. "It may be wise to hurry."
Sawyer crossed his arms tightly, considering his options.
"If it looks like the Unseelie are definitely going to destroy the mountain," he said, "and the Seelie aren't going to be able to stop them, come to me the night before and make me your offer again."
"That is cutting it quite close," Goldenrod pointed out. "Are you certain you want to risk it? You could save them all right now with a word."
Sawyer shook his head.
"Not yet," he replied. "I'll call you if I change my mind between now and then."
"I'll be waiting eagerly by the phone," Goldenrod said with a grin. "Now, I'd really rather you remember all this tomorrow, so I'm afraid I won't be letting you go back to your dream just yet. See you soon, pet."
Before Sawyer could protest, Goldenrod lashed out and punched him in the chest.
It hit him like a brick wall, knocking the air out of him and flinging him backward. His eyes shot open as he woke in his own bed in the guest room.
His heart still racing, Sawyer sat up slowly, reviewing the details of the dream to try and hold on to them.
The room was bright, though it was past three in the morning, silver light pouring in through the thin white sheers of the window. Outside, the moon was nearly full. There was no sign of Elliot.
Sawyer knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, at least not any time soon. So he pulled on a coat and wandered down stairs and out into the yard on an unexamined whim.
It was a warm night. Peaceful. Insects sang loudly in the grass and the nearly full moon cast everything in monochrome shades of silver and white and deep blue black. It seemed terribly at odds with the feelings Sawyer was experiencing right now. He looked up at the heavy moon and wondered if it was looking back at him.
"Is this what you wanted?" he asked Her. "I mean, I know you're not all powerful or whatever but there must have been something you could have done to stop this. If you didn't, and you know maybe I missed it but it sure seems like you didn't, then this must be what you wanted. So, why?"
He paused, scrubbed at his eyes. He was so fucking sick of crying.
"You said I'd have to do something before," he said, remembering Her message at the beginning of the year, though he'd forgotten most of it in light of the revelation about being pregnant. "Some kind of burden that you were sorry about. Is this it? Was that your way of saying I'd have to take the deal, give myself to that monster? Is that your plan? You save the world by making me- the baby-"
He cut himself off, frustrated. He remembered her promise that she wouldn't force him, that he'd have a choice. But some choices were no choice at all. Above him, the Moon was silent.
"I just want to understand," Sawyer said, scrubbing at his eyes. "When is it enough? When do I get to stop? When do I get to just be..."
He trailed off, uncertain what he wanted. Just to be happy? He wasn't sure he knew how at this point. This place, the pack, his friends and family, Elliot. If none of that was enough to let him really be happy, was there anything that could? Maybe he didn't even need to be happy. Just not to be actively un-happy all the time. Regardless, the Moon didn't answer.
Instead, he heard a twig snap in the darkness.
He looked toward the sound, and froze in surprise as he saw a herd of deer, quietly stepping over the wards into the forest. Six large does, and three fawns. The largest, her coat a rich dark color that nearly melted into the night around her, met his eye. His heart sank.
"You're leaving?" he asked, when he was close enough to be heard without shouting.
"It's the only logical decision," Daphne replied, watching the rest of the herd cross the wards, moving silently and carefully. "Perhaps the world will end, and none of it will matter. But perhaps it won't, and only this place will be destroyed. I would rather plan for the future in which there is a chance of survival than sit here and wait for the end."
Sawyer nodded in understanding. He couldn't blame her. She was making the best decision she could for her people.
"Where will you go?" he asked.
"North, perhaps. Or another sanctuary. But if the end is to come, we would rather not face it in a cage."
Sawyer could sympathize.
"Please give the others our gratitude for all you've done for us," Daphne said, bowing her graceful head. "And our apologies."
"Of course," Sawyer murmured.
"And I wish you luck during the full moon tomorrow."
"Yeah, you too."
Daphne turned away, to follow her herd, then paused just before crossing the wards. She hesitated, then looked back at him.
"Come with us," she said suddenly. Sawyer blinked in confusion.
"Why?"
"There is something in you," she said, her large, dark eyes reflecting the moon. "I sensed it the first time I saw you. You are not of them. You are one of my kind."
"I'm not," Sawyer said, shaking his head. "You've seen me shift. I'm a wolf."
"I can't explain it," Daphne replied. "But I know it's true. You need not die in a cage either, friend. Come with us."
Sawyer felt a surge of desperate longing, the temptation strong and unexpected. He looked past Daphne at her herd, waiting patiently, lean limbs and staring eyes half hidden in the leaves. It was easy to imagine himself with them, running beside them. In his imagination, he shed his wolf shape easily and took a new form, proud and glorious, faster than the wind, silent as the sunlight. He realized what he was imagining and shook his head, stepping back.
"Thank you," he said. "But I can't. They still need me here."
"Then I hope we see you again someday, Black Wolf," Daphne said, turning away again. "In quieter times."
"So do I," Sawyer said softly.
He watched them go until they vanished into trees, knowing that in all likelihood he would never know what happened to them. Maybe it was better that way. It made it easier to imagine they would find some perfect sanctuary and live in safety and happiness forever.
"You were wise not to go with them."
Nicholas materialized out of the darkness like he was made from it. Sawyer jumped, startled, but the Nuckelavee stayed on the other side of the wards.
"The air rings with magic when you are near," he said. "It would have drawn the Fae to them."
More proof that Sawyer doomed anyone he was with. He closed his eyes for a moment, tired.
"What do you want?" Sawyer asked.
"Nothing," Nicholas answered, which caught Sawyer slightly off guard.
"Then what are you doing here?" he asked.
"Hunting the Seelie, as always," Nicholas replied.
"No, I mean here, talking to me."
Nicholas was quiet for a moment, as though he were avoiding answering, though he looked at Sawyer steadily.
"...I sensed you were near," he said finally. "I wanted to see you."
"Why?" Sawyer asked, flustered.
Nicholas hesitated again, his stare oddly soft.
"I have been in torment for time beyond measuring," he said finally. "Looking at you eases the pain."
Sawyer's heart ached, sympathy and something else. He struggled to ignore it.
"Then you should probably leave," he said. "I'm going back inside in a minute anyway."
"I answered you truthfully," Nicholas said. "I will ask for a truth from you. If you will give it. You will not answer if you do not choose to."
Uncertainty sounded strange in Nicholas's voice.
"Ask away," Sawyer said. He was confused, but hell, he'd entertained Goldenrod's stupid questions earlier. Nicholas was at least sl
ightly more pleasant to be around.
"There are places," Nicholas said, "where moments can last years. Where a second on this planet could stretch into eternity. Places beyond the reach or knowledge of either Court. In such a place, the end of this world will not be felt for eons. Ask, and I will bring you and your child to this place. I will provide anything you require there, anything you ask for. Even my absence, when you demand it. You and the child will live in peace for the rest of your lives and I will allow nothing to cause either of you suffering ever again. My question is this. If I offered you this, would you come with me?"
Sawyer was silent for a moment, stunned, then he laughed under his breath, overwhelmed and broken.
"You know, the Seelie made me a similar offer tonight?" he said, shaking his head. "Their version sounded a lot less pleasant."
"I do not make this offer on behalf of the Unseelie," Nicholas said quietly. "It would not serve their ends to see you escape. But neither would it harm them, or I would not be able to offer it to you. It is still the wish of the Unseelie that you and all shifters be captured and chained to the Court, or killed before the Seelie can take you. Step beyond these wards and I will have no choice but to attack . But allow me, and I will save you instead."
"What do you get out of it?" Sawyer asked. "And don't tell me it's nothing. Fae don't do favors for nothing."
"To know you're alive," Nicholas replied without missing a beat. "To know that somewhere the world is not all dead and that despite all the wishes of the Courts and all the magic that binds me to them, one true and beautiful thing still exists somewhere. To look at you, perhaps, every once in a while, and remember that once I was not this thing I am now."
The intensity and sincerity of Nicholas's reply took the wind out of Sawyer briefly. How did you respond to something like that? And more importantly, did he accept?
"Would it just be me?" Sawyer asked quietly. "You couldn't save anyone else?"
Nicholas shook his head.
"So, either I give myself to the Seelie, suffer and die and save the world," Sawyer summarized. "Or I go with you, run away and save myself. And the world burns."
