Thank you, Trickster!
Walking Hearts
Chapter 10
“He’s so jumpy all of a sudden. I’ve never seen him like this before.”
Taylor nodded, frowning a little with concern at the gypsy’s predicament. She opened her mouth to speak, but was suddenly distracted as she swung her dagger to the right, attacking whatever it was that had tried to sneak up on her. Instantly, her dagger was once more a flash of silver flashing through the air, quickly slicing and stabbing every creature in sight. Bright, rainbow shaded blood splashed across both she and Clopin's clothes, but neither one seemed to mind, each using their own preffered method of killing the unnaturally perfect beings.
"I swear, these things get uglier every time!" Taylor groaned, rolling her eyes as she drove her dagger into the heart of yet another Mary Sue, who proceeded to flail about dramatically as she met her doom. "But anyway, have you tried talking to him about it? Maybe he's just feeling depressed, being all alone at home with Jay while you're at work. Maybe he's lonely."
"Of course I've tried talking to him!" Clopin said sharply, gritting his teeth as his scythe made contact with another torso. Taking a step back, he and Taylor's back became alligned, the two of them leaning against one another for support as they continued to hack their way through the ragging team of Sues.
"Sorry," the gypsy apologized, not having intended to sound so irritated. "But yes, I've tried talking with him, spending extra time with him to try and see what's wrong, hell, I even considered letting Grell babysit Janelle for the weekend so that we could have the house to ourselves."
"Ugh, Grell?" Taylor scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Please, she'd probably come back all warped and shit...with, like, a penchant for demons and sharp objects."
Clopin couldn't help but laugh at that, which caused him to swing his scythe a bit more freely, nearly hitting his arm against Taylor's head in the process. The girl narrowly dodged the attack, shooting Clopin a look as she moved back into her original position.
“Sorry!” He apologized again, a bit more sheepishly this time. “But be that as it may, I couldn’t handed her off to Grell even if I’d really wanted to. When I brought the subject up to Puck, he got this scared look on his face, looked at Jay, and told me no before I could even ask what was wrong with keeping her with Grell. He never seems to want to leave her alone anymore...”
“Well...” Taylor frowned, pausing as she tried to concentrate on killing her next victim. Thankfully, there were only a few Mary Sues left to destroy. This was starting to get boring. “Maybe ‘mommy’s’ getting a little sentimental, now that her first birthday’s coming up. Who knows, maybe he’s already scared of her growing up.”
“Of course!” Clopin said, turning around suddenly as he beheaded another sickeningly sweet creature advancing towards him. Taylor quickly sliced the remaining two apart with one quick motion. “Why didn’t I think of it before? He got a little upset over Alexander’s last birthday...it only makes sense that he would be upset over his daughter getting older, too...oh, I need to talk with him. I know what he’s going through...” Clopin muttered.
“Great, sounds sensational,” Taylor said a bit drily, looking down at her ruined clothes with a small scowl. “But, uh...can you wait till we get cleaned up first?”
---
“There there, now. Hush, I’m here, Jay,” Puck mumbled softly, smiling as he bounced the fidgeting girl in his arms. It was time for her nap, but Janelle apparently didn’t know this as well as Puck, so it was his job to remind her and help her prepare for it, whether she wanted to or not. Chuckling softly at the little fussy sounds she was making as he rocked her in the air, the fae suddenly help her out in front of him, giving her a teasing smile and rubbing their noses together affectionately. “Would you like me to sing to you, babe?”
The way the girl wrinkled her nose at the suggestion made Puck think Jay’s answer to be no. Rolling his eyes at her response, he pulled her back against his chest, pacing across the room slowly some more in an attempt to tire her out. “Alright, kiddo, I might not have a voice as good as your other dad’s, but I think that I can manage to sing a one-year-old to sleep, hmm?”
One year. Puck knew that he and Clopin were pushing things with the little birthday party they had planned. Even the smallest reminder that Puck was keeping a mortal child would no doubt infurriate Lord Oberon. But if he were to try and convince Clopin against it, he’d have to give a reason, and that would only lead to trouble.
A tugging on the front of his shirt alerted Puck to the promise he’d recently made, and he snapped out of his daydreams to look down at his daughter. She was staring at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to just get it over with and send her back to her dreams , where she could play with faes and unicorns to her heart’s content. The elf couldn’t help but smile at her expression, saying quickly, “Alright, alright. I’m ready. Here goes...”
But what to sing? Frowning, Puck thought back to what Mab had told him in his dream, the same dream that continued to come to him every night now.
You know the law about changelings. Oberon had long since forbidden his children to steal a human baby and leave a magical creature in its place, as everyone knew quite well. It disruppted this new, unmagical world, and made the nature of the fae more visible to prying-eyed humans. These thoughts reminded him of a familiar song about true changelings...not like Janelle, but actual ones that he could be
justly punished for. It didn’t really fit Jay, he supposed, but it was very soothing. Deciding upon it, he softly sang the verses in his soft, but nonetheless enchanting, immortal voice.
” Where dips the rocky highland,
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island,
Where flapping herons wake.
The drowsy water-rats,
There we've hid our faery vats
Full of berries,
And of reddest stolen cherries…
Come away, O human child,
To the waters and the wild.
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping
Than ye can understand…”Janelle looked up at her father as he sang, not having expected such a sound to convert from his normally sharp, nasal speaking voice to his soothing singing voice. It was almost…hypnotic. Well, as hypnotic as a toddler could understand it to be. Slowly, she began to close her eyes, lost in Puck’s calming, magical melody.
“Away with us she's going,
The solemn-eyed.
She'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside,
Or the kettle on the hob,
Sing peace into her breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For she comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild,
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping
Than you can understand…”
---
Clopin could only stare at Puck as he stepped soundlessly into Janelle’s room, unable to believe what he was seeing. From what he had discerned from past experiences, Puck practically
hated singing, aside from when the two were alone together. And even then he was overly shy about it. But now, for some reason or another, he was singing some strange, hypnotic melody to their daughter. Listening to the lyrics as Puck sang them, the gypsy frowned, uncertain of their precise meaning. It sounded like Puck was singing about all those old legends he’d heard as a child…stories of faeries that came and stole children in the night, replacing them with their own. It was almost chilling to think about, and yet Clopin couldn’t help but wish to hear more, if only to listen to Puck’s strangely mystic voice.
As Puck finished his song, he slowly turned to lay Janelle in her crib, hands lingering around her precious, snoozing figure. He gently brushed her dark bangs from her eyes, looking down at her with a soft, but anxious, smile. When he turned and saw his husband standing in the doorway, however, he gave a small start, suddenly embarrassed with the thought that he had heard him singing before. Clopin gave the other a curious look, silently stepping further into their daughter’s small room. He continued to stare at Puck , even more confused with the other’s behavior now that he’d been before he’d left for work that morning. Puck slowly turned to look away, uncertain of what to do as Clopin slowly wrapped him in his arms.
“What song is that?” He whispered softly, leaning in towards the other’s face in an attempt to get him to look at him.
“Stolen Child…it’s an old poem that…someone made into a song,” Puck whispered back, glancing up at the other a cautiously as he slowly put his arms around him as well.
“Mhm…it’s nice…” Clopin said back, giving the other a small kiss on the lips. Taking the other’s hand, he led Puck over to the rocking chair in Janelle’s room, sitting him down and pulling up a small stool for himself. He moved the stool behind the chair, and leaned forward, gently massaging his shoulders with all the understanding he could muster as a father. Puck was the stay at home one; therefore, Clopin respected that he had a job of his own, taking care of little Jay like he did. Puck leaned back into his husband’s touch, letting a soft sigh escape him as Clopin skillfully pressed his fingers into his tense shoulders. He really did appreciate the gypsy, sometimes…
“Will you tell me about that?”
“Mmmm…about what?” Puck sleepily mumbled, shuddering a little as the other moved to the base of his neck. What with his nightmares, he hadn’t been sleeping much lately, and this was really tiring him out. “God, I love it when you do that, Clopin…you’re…too good to me sometimes, ya know that?”
Clopin gave a small smile at that, moving closer to breath against Puck’s white neck. “You flatter me…but I meant the song, Puck. Tell me what it was like…back then. When you were younger, and when that song was a reality. It interests me a great deal.”
Puck’s eyes flew open at that, and he instantly recoiled from Clopin’s fingers. Turning back to look at the other, he gave a small, unreadable frown, biting his lip as he tried to think of what excuse he could give.
“I…don’t really like to talk about that, Clopin.”
“And why not?”
“Because it upsets me, alright?”
“Shh! Not so loud, you’ll wake her…and anyway, I didn’t mean to pry, Puck…I just want to know,” Clopin said quickly, glancing in the direction of Jay’s bed. Still seeing hesitation in Puck’s expression, Clopin added in another whisper, “I have never kept a part of
my life secret from
you, Puck.”
Dammit. He had him there. Giving a large sigh, Puck tried to think of how he could explain things without saying
too much…explain why he didn’t like to talk about it, why he had to keep things secret, and why didn’t want Clopin to know…but he could think of nothing but simply telling the truth.
“They were dark times,” he said quietly after a moment more of consideration, gazing off into space as Clopin eyed him through the wooden bars on the back of the rocking chair. “Changelings were common talk amongst humans and Faeries alike. Hundreds of children were stolen every night, and left in their place were other Faes, usually wrinkled old ones that no longer had any sort of use in the world. They would be thrown into wells, usually, by the parents who’d found their baby to have been traded for this strange creature. The human children became slaves, or status symbols, like exotic pets among the immortals.”
Puck paused at this, not sure if he could just stop here without saying anymore. Glancing at Clopin’s intrigued expression, he decided that he probably couldn’t. Continuing, he said, “Then Oberon came into power. He had overthrown his mother, Queen Mab, from power; she believed that the Fae deserved to rule, as we were here long before the humans…but Oberon was different. He saw the mortals and other creatures as animals; stupid, but useful. They didn’t deserve to be treated as common filth, but as guests on our beloved Mother Earth whose rights should be protected, and, above all,
left alone. He took the Faery throne, and made it his law that mortals should not be tampered with.
“There was one being, however, that did not wish to comply with Oberon’s strict rules. He had a wicked heart, and cared about as much for others as a spider does for flies. So Oberon, being the kind and gentle soul that he is, put out a warrant for his head. Unfortunately for him, hobgoblins are clever.”
The look in Puck’s eyes told Clopin that something was going on, and that something in this story was running deeper than the fae would like it to. With a bitter shine to his pale blue eyes, Puck glanced at the other, sensing the suspicious in the gypsy’s mind as he told the next part of his story.
“He was captured at last…but not until after he’d pulled more mischief than anyone had expected. He’d managed to enslave and trick enough mortals into their deaths to last any other Fae a lifetime. He was killed by Oberon himself…but not for good.
“It was a horrible death…the most gruesome any of the Faeires had ever seen. Even Oberon looked fearful as he watched the little hobgoblin writhe and scream under the burning hot iron that was placed around him. When he’d at last turned to fairy dust, everyone was ready to leave, before more trouble started. Until…”
Puck stopped at this, closing his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t really go through with what he was about to say, could he? Clopin looked at him anxiously, half out of wait for him to continue and half out of concern for Puck’s emotional state of mind. When at last the Fae seemed to gain control of himself, he gave another sigh before going on.
“…until Oberon stepped forward, placing a hand on the still-warm ashes. The iron had been cleared along with the creature, but something was still waiting to stick around. Drawing up his hand, a small, pale little creature began to rise up, naked and wide-eyed with fear. He looked very much like Oberon himself, except for having much paler skin and a more frightened look on his face. Two bright blue eyes looked around, shame coloring his features as he saw the crowded room staring at him with just was wide eyes.
Oberon kept a calm look on his face, then turned and said, ‘Out of the ashes of evil, we have risen a blessing…and a punishment. As payment for the enslaved creatures Robin Goodfellow has brought into our realm, his remains will become my servant. Fall, Robin Goodfellow, and arise, Puck!’”
Clopin’s jaw fell open at this, but Puck didn’t not turn and look at him. His eyes were shut again, as though he could see the entire memory once again. Opening them to look at his husband calmly, he said quickly, “I was that merry wanderer of the night, that fiendish sprite Robin Goodfellow. The evil died with the hobgoblin, but not all of it. There still retained a small portion of his mischievous ways that could not be destroyed with me, his remains…but Oberon intended to erase every trace of it from my form with his teachings.”
“So, that was how you became his-?”
“I became his dog, yes,” Puck said simply, not appearing angry about the memory at all. “I was just…so grateful to him…he
saved me from myself.I pratically worshipped the ground he walked on. I would have done anything for him…and I did. He had me do so many tasks that all seemed so strange…but I never once complained, not once.”
Clopin frowned, confused for a moment. “But then, wait, how did you wind up…like you are now?”
Puck gave a small chuckle, but it didn’t sound happy at all. “Titania. She saved me from
him. Something about her was just…different. She was so defiant, in her own way, without even saying anything to my lord. She made me see his true colors…and the mischievous nature began to take over. Then, when Titania and Oberon had their falling out, and we were all sent away from Avalon…I discovered the mortals.
“They were unlike anything I’d ever seen,” Puck whispered, looking off into the distance with a mystified glance, as though he were seeing the sun for the first time. “They were so…so…perfectly imperfect. They calmed my more evil ways…they charmed me. I was caught in their spell, ironically enough,” Puck laughed softly, then frowned.
“But it wasn’t enough. Even now, after all these centuries…I can still feel him,” Puck whispered, squeezing his eyes shut with a shudder. He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around his knees frightenedly. He put his hands to his chest, as if searching for something beneath the suface. “He’s there, waiting for the oppurtunity to strike…I just know it. And it terrifies me. Every waking hour, every minute, I know he waiting.” Puck had begun to rock back again forth on his chair now, his breathing picking up in a scared pace. “Waiting to take over again, to do worse evil than Oberon himself has ever seen. To hurt Janelle, or you, or myself…” Puck was almost incoherent at this point, falling into a full-on panic attack before the gypsy’s very eyes.
“Puck! Puck, calm down!” Clopin ordered quickly grabbing the other’s arms in an attempt to soothe him. He pulled the other closer, staring into his eyes seriously for a moment. Puck at last seemed to listen, slowly allowing his breathing to return to normal. Leaning against the gypsy for support, he let out a soft, shuddering sigh as he began to return to his normal state of mind. Clopin wrapped him tightly against his chest, unable to understand how the other had managed to keep something like this from him for so long. This must have been the source of all the nightmares, mixed with the anxiety of Janelle’s first birthday, that was upseting Puck so much. He at last understood.
“Puck.”
The Fae made no movement from his place against the gypsy’s shoulder, but forced out a simple “what?’
“I…I promise….that if he does come back, that I will be the next one to save you,” Clopin said firmly, holding the other’s chin in his hands.
Puck just stared back, beginning to understand the tone of the other’s voice and what he must be thinking at the moment. With a soft nod, Puck leaned back into the other’s shoulder, closing his eyes once more.
That is all very well, he thought to himself.
But who is going to save her from him???===
Ohmigosh, I want to play him wearing these at some point. XDD
