"Fey"

Written for fe_contest challenge 005 - 'Spirit'

Warnings: AU, Medieval era, blood and violence in small doses, beautiful women, fey.

Characters: Seth, Ismaire, Joshua, Natasha, Eirika. All mentioned in this first portion.

x-x-x

He is nine years old when he first sees her dancing inside of the mortal realms; nine years old and full of curiosity and life and just the tiniest hint of being lost...

He is exploring the ancestral forests that surround his family's keep; lands that have been held by countless generations before him, and will likely pass to his elder brother upon death of their father. Seth does not think about such things, just as he does not think much for the visit to the lone convent housed within these forests. Women in habits, dour and quiet, are all that he has seen so far as his mother takes her yearly tour, and with all the inherent boredom that such things represent to a nine year old child, he has chosen to escape. Doubtless he will have a scolding later, but his sense of adventure leads him out into the wilds alone.

For the first few hours, he travels carefully, leaving a marked trail behind him of broken twigs; he is conscious of the fact that he may give himself away to the servants that his mother will surely send after him, but he does not wish to lose himself yet in these woods. He is still child enough that tales whispered to him by the storytellers unnerve him; there is no sense in becoming the next victim of some dark haunting out here in the wilds.

Later on he finds a stream and follows it to a minor break in the trees. There is a slight clearing there, space where he can see the sky. What glimpse he first catches tells him that he has been gone longer than he anticipated; it is evening now and the sky is beginning to darken. He knows that he should hurry and return - doubtless there is a search organized by now, his mother upset with a child's lack of discipline - but there is a hint of movement further into the trees...

He is silent when he approaches.

She is dancing upon the forest floor, surrounded by butterflies and motes of light. Her movements are the epitome of grace; the young boy can do naught but stare in wonder as the goddess dances, her turquoise tresses free to the wind. She does not seem to take notice of her audience, so the boy waits in silence.

When she finishes, the woods themselves have gone dark. Seth is uncertain whether it is appropriate to clap in appreciation of the beauty that she has shown, and in his uncertainty he manages to snag his trousers upon the undergrowth. The lady looks up and sees him for the first time. Caught, he can only stare awkwardly for a few moments; she smiles at him and he flushes.

"You dance most beautifully, my lady." His training in the courtesy of the nobility returns to his mind, he near stammers the compliment and bows to the woman in front of him. When he returns to standing upright, he can see that she is still smiling. She nods her head in return to his clumsy words, words of her own flowing from her lips in a beauteous refrain.

It is like listening to the wind in the trees, or the babbling of a brook; Seth cannot understand them and it saddens him. He vows to pay more attention to his lessons and see what language it is that the lady speaks. Apparently the lady understands that he cannot fathom what she is saying. She laughs - starlight in motion - and blows him a kiss.

A child still, he blushes to the roots of his hair and turns his face away. It is only momentary, but when he looks back, the lady is gone. Reluctantly, he turns away and retraces his path to the stream. There will not be enough light to show him the way back, but if he makes good enough time, perhaps he will be close enough for the servants to find him.

Seth takes one last look at the clearing. One day he will know this forest, this he swears.

The way back to the convent is long and were it not for a friendly string of lights, it is possible that the child might have missed his way entirely. They hover over the trail that he painstakingly marked earlier in the day, however, rendering it merely child's play to return back the drab, sheltered world that he abandoned for a few hours of excitement.

He is right about one thing; his mother scolds him fiercely when they return home to the family keep. His elder brother merely laughs and wanders away when he explains what he has done. Joshua has passed his fifteenth year and is no longer fazed by such childish exploits.

He does not tell them about the wondrous sight that he beheld, however. Even at this young age, he shies away from sharing such a thing with his brother.

Joshua would try to take the lady from him. He knows his brother all too well, though not through the eyes of experience. The knowing is merely intuitive on his part for now. Thus he hides his goddess away in his memory, there to await their next meeting.

The second encounter would take place some years later, after Seth had attained his sixteenth birthday…

He has grown up into a young man now; full of dreams and hopes and knowledge acquired over the intervening years. When Lady Ismaire takes her yearly visit to the convent, both of her sons accompany her dutifully. This time Seth does not slip away from the entourage until after the formal introductions and felicitations are completed and the women retire behind closed doors for private conversation.

With a different perspective, Seth actually allots a few moments to wandering through the open areas of the convent. Beyond the short-sighted vision of a child, he now understands that others besides the nuns dwelt here; nobility would often allow their daughters to be instructed inside of such institutions. He passes a few in the halls accompanied by their teachers, but they mostly pay him no mind.

It was not until he stepped forth into the gardens that things changed. It was there that he had his first glimpse of the Lady Natasha.

He first notices her by the gentle lilt of a song on the breeze. He listens while he wanders further into the open spaces, coming upon the singer by the time she finishes the song. The songstress is seated upon the grass, filling her basket with a few of the herbs that have been cultivated here. With her back to him, he can clearly see the waterfall of gold that has been simply braided to keep it out of mischief. The lady turns and stands when she hears his footsteps approaching.

"Greetings, my lord." Her skirts sway with her gentle curtsy. When she straightens, Seth notices the blue of her eyes. He bows in return.

"The honor of this meeting is mine. You have a very beautiful voice, my lady. It is good to hear such sentiments expressed in such glorious tone."

The lady smiles. "It is only natural to use the gifts I have been given to honor the creator."

Seth nods. "Indeed. Although I fear I have forgotten my manners; I am Seth of Blaed."

Light laughter greets his statement. "A pleasure, my lord of Blaed. I am Natasha Haelen, first daughter of the house of Haelen."

They walk the garden and Natasha expounds to him the various properties of each plant contained therein. Seth is an avid pupil and stores the information away for later reference. Later, when he has time and access to ink and paper, he will set it down for his own personal library. The time spent together is wonderful, but Seth is mindful of the propriety of the matter, and after a circuit of the garden, bids farewell to the beautiful songstress.

"Fare thee well, Natasha of Haelen. I have enjoyed this time spent in the gardens with you." He bends down and kisses the hand that she offers to him.

"God watch over you, Seth of Blaed." The lady draws back a pace to regard him fondly. "Will we meet again, I wonder?"

"As God wills." Seth is certain that even if the divine does not will it so, they will still meet again. His mother insists upon these yearly visits, and his brother will eventually find this maiden as well. Heaven help anything trying to stand in their way. He smiles and leaves with a lightened heart.

It is time to enter the forest again.

x-x-x

The journey takes less time on horseback than it had when he merely wandered around as a child. He finds the stream easily enough and follows it down to near where he believes the clearing lay. After dismounting, he ties his horse to a tree and proceeds on foot.

He is only just in time to witness the outrage.

She had been dancing the last time that he had beheld her. Now she lays sprawled upon the ground with a man towering over her. Seth does not need any other invitation to intervene.

"You there, knave! Why do you assault a lady in such a manner?"

Striding forward without any pretence of stealth, Seth moves towards what he assumes to be a thief or brigand. The man turns slowly, and his eyes nearly stopped the youth in his tracks. He has seen eyes like that once before on a crazy beggar, just before the beggar had thrown himself in front of a passing horse cart.

Whoever this man is, his eyes hold that same shine; the fiend before him would follow whatever whim held sway. Narrowing his eyes, Seth begins to circle the man, seeking to lure the stranger away from the lady on the ground. Obligingly, the man moves to meet him; they grappled for a long moment, testing strength against strength. Eventually the stranger throws the young noble away from him and sends him tumbling upon the ground. Seth rolls back to his feet warily; the man- if that is what he really is- has monstrous strength.

He holds his ground as the man begins to laugh insanely. Though unnerved by the fiend before him, he casts one look down at the woman. "You must run, my lady."

That glance is enough for him to notice the iron spike pinning the skirt of her dress to the ground. The lady is pulling on the material, but it seems that she refuses to place her hands upon the one thing that obstructs her freedom. Shaking his head, Seth bends down and begins to tug at the obstruction. So intent is he on this task that he nearly misses the look of alarm upon the woman's face, and the warbling stream of words that accompany it.

He pulls the spike out just in time to face his enemy's charging spear. He ducks away from the first thrust and stumbles to his feet. Where did the weapon come from? The man held nothing in his hands a few moments prior!

Such thoughts are not conducive to continuing survival, so Seth sets them aside for a more opportune moment.

Behind him still, the woman staggers to her feet and runs. He can hear her warbling cries fading into the distance and a grim smile crosses his face. Now he needs only to survive this encounter with whatever fell creature stands before him and everything will be well.

It will not be as easy as sparring with his instructors, for then he has a weapon with which to defend himself. Today he has nothing on him save the spike in his fist and a small dagger at his belt. If there were a moment of calm, he could search for some fallen branch with which to fashion a makeshift staff, but the creature does not give him that time. Seth dodges the wild sweeps and thrusts, moving ever backward into the trees. At the first opportunity, he must disarm his opponent; else he stands no chance of escape or victory.

When a thrust goes wide, he seizes the moment and the haft of his opponent's weapon. Seth feels a moment of elation just before the flash of pain. His opponent steps towards him and thrusts; the spear writhes in his grasp like a living creature and strikes.

He wants to cry out, but the pain has stolen his breath away. His arm weakens; desperately he tries to disentangle himself and the fiend pushes harder, laughing gleefully as the lad gasps for air.

A desperate move saves him; he throws the iron spike into the creature's face. He half expects that the throw will miss or that one of the gauntlets will rise from the spear shaft to block it. When it strikes true just above the creature's brow, he expects a twist of the spear in response.

The creature shrieks in agony and drops the spear to claw bloody furrows into its face. Seth falls away and frees himself from the weapon in meantime. His right arm dangles by his side, somehow much weaker than any injury should make it. The pain makes it difficult to think or plan.

Somehow he draws his dagger with his left hand.

Some fortune keeps him upright while he buries the dagger into the creature's chest. Wisps of smoke seem to rise from around the blade, but Seth no longer cares; he is already staggering along the stream, trying desperately to find his horse.

Reality fades. He is in the saddle now, a death grip in his horse's mane. He cannot remember having mounted.

The trees waver around him as he rides. A mote of light sits between his horse's ears and he wonders if the angels are coming to greet him already. He doesn't wish to die yet. His mother would scold him for leaving before her.

When his horse suddenly stops, he finds himself falling slowly. He can hear the voices shouting, see his brother standing beside the beautiful girl with the golden braid, and feel the wind as he passes it by on his way to the ground. His brother runs towards him, but Seth knows that Joshua will be too slow.

'That's not right, Joshua is fast.'

He hits the ground hard. As his eyes close, his last conscious thought of the day is strangely rational.

'I wondered how long it would take him to find her.'

x-x-x

Three days pass before Seth awakens. He hears a familiar voice singing and cannot immediately place the name or face that belong to the singer. Natasha moves into his line of vision and her song ceases as she notices that he is awake now. Seth hears a babble of voices as Natasha runs over to the door and announces the fact. Another stranger comes and begins to poke and prod his shoulder, murmuring about changing bandages again. Seth recognizes the woman only as one of the nuns.

His mother enters the room not long afterward. He braces for a lecture, but for once Ismaire of Blaed is without the words. She sits down beside him and holds his hand. Her eyes glisten, as though tears threaten to break her composure.

Things change when his brother enters the room. They ask for a recounting of his venture; Seth thinks back and tries his best to recall what happened between leaving the convent and returning near death. When he completes his narrative, Joshua frowns.

"We found the place where you fought this 'man' but there was no weapon or body anywhere within a hundred paces. Your blood trail showed clearly where you had been injured and there were marks up on the trunks of a few trees, but we found nothing else." The elder brother looks slightly unsettled. "There was no sign of your dagger either. If there was anything else there, perhaps the little folk took them away."

Joshua smiles a little at his own joke, though Seth merely frowns. "The little folk clean houses, not forests."

"Indeed, brother of mine." Joshua heaves a sigh and stands upright. "All that one can say is that yes you did meet with battle, but that whoever assailed you vanished like a mist. You should be more wary of traveling alone - take a companion with you, as I do."

Seth gives his brother a disbelieving stare that slowly turns into a smile. "I am aware of the companions that you take with you, brother. I don't believe that any of them would be proof against any assault - nay, more likely they invite it."

Joshua laughs and bids him farewell. Ismaire stays at his side until he falls back to sleep.

In his sleep he dreams of a time before, where a young boy stands in awe of a goddess dancing. At the very end of his slumber, before he awakens, the goddess blows him a kiss…

x-x-x

AN: Will contain a second chapter of additions to the tale, just because.

Am posting this now, just because I feel that I should (It's the portion that's actually up for the contest). When I actually finish up the tale, I'll post the remainder in a second chapter. Cheers.