Frozen Stars Over Wonderland - Chapter 23 (Patreon)

They got stares as they wandered through the City of Spade after returning their elk to the livery stable where they’d been rented. Well, to be fair, Alfre was the one receiving the stares. Alfre had to admit, of all the things she’d seen since the Incident, a tiny woman walking around in a black cloak that spilled shadows out the bottom and a giant wolf by their side had not been one of them. The halberd strapped to her back probably didn’t help. Spica was very good at ignoring the stares, but she got odd looks all the time. Perks of being pretty, Alfre assumed (not that she’d know, all the stares she tended to get where because of her height). Elias, however, ducked his head and tucked his ears down, trying very hard not to meet anyone’s eye.

A rather panicked looking Wallace greeted them when they returned home. “Welcome back Miss Alfre, Miss Spica, Mister Elias. Um…Miss Alfre, you might want to see this.”

“See what?” Alfre asked, taking off her cloak and the direwolf coat that she was so used to wearing she hadn’t even thought to take it off when wearing the Cloak of Night’s Shadow.

Wallace waited for her to hang her outerwear up before taking her by the hand and leading her into the main floor’s lounge. There, on the dark brown couch that Alfre found herself falling asleep on more often than not, was Canus, napping away.

“He showed up the other day, demanding to know if you’d returned from the dungeon yet,” Wallace explained in a hurried whisper. “When I told him you hadn’t, he insisted that he’d wait for you. I-I didn’t know what to do! What kind of food am I supposed to make for a god?! Do they even eat?”

“I don’t know, but you’ll be finding out sooner or later,” Alfre said with a laugh. “Cause I might have invited Abital for dinner.”

Wallace paled, his freckles standing out even more on his face. “You did WHAT?!”

Wallace’s loud squeak roused Canus, the wolf god snorting like a pup and grumbling as he rolled onto his side. Alfre walked around the couch to crouch in front of him, her wolf following dutifully. Canus opened his too green eyes just enough to peer at her.

“You’re back,” he murmured sleepily.

“I am,” she replied, reaching up to scratch at the spot at the base of his ears that she knew the direwolves loved. It only made sense that he’d love it, too. His eyes closed again, a hum starting up in his throat that Alfre equated to the Canus version of purring. “You gave Wally quite the scare, showing up like that. I’d wondered where you’d gone. I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

His eyes blinked open, more focused than before. “What?”

Alfre jerked her head in the direction of her wolf. “What’s this one’s name? I feel bad not knowing it.”

“I called her Beira. She’s the only pup ever born in winter.”

Alfre smiled. “Beira. It’s a good name. Someone important where I’m from is named Beira.”

Canus’ ears twitched at that. “Who?”

Alfre glanced up, noticing that Wally had stepped further into the room, Spica and Elias just on the other side of the doorway. They seemed curious.

“Beira, Queen of Winter, was the mother of the gods,” Alfre said quietly, almost as if she was telling a child a bedtime story. “She rules the earth between Samhainn and Bealtainn and with her magic hammer created the mountains of Scotland.”

“Scotland,” Wally echoed. “Is that were you’re from, Miss Alfre?”

Alfre nodded, feeling her throat tighten up like it always did before she started crying. She hadn’t talked about her home much with anyone since the Incident. She didn’t want to think too hard about it, just in case she never went back.

“It must be a wonderful place, if it made someone like you.”

Alfre’s breath hitched, she could already feel the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “It is. I’d love to show you all some day. The glens and the lochs. You’d love my cousin’s farm. She’s got the cutest hairy coos you’ve ever seen. Right sweet buggers, those fuzzy bastards.”

“Ah, don’t cry snowbird,” Canus sat up, reaching out to wipe away her tears. “I’m sure you’ll see your home again someday. You Fell always leave eventually…”

Some new sadness gripped her heart at the defeated tone of Canus’ words. She…she didn’t want to go home if that meant leaving them all behind. God knew where Elias and Spica lived, or if she could ever find them again if they went home. She knew nothing about Doremi or June. She had no idea where Izo or Ren and Ran or Silver lived in the ‘real world’. Atticus and Lance were just as much of a mystery as everyone else. If she went home, she’d lose them all. But mostly, she’d lose Canus and Wally and Abital. These new wonderful friends that she only had because the game had become real. She’d never be able to ask Alessio for that favor he swore he owed them. She missed her old home, yes, but she’d never be able to go back if it meant sacrificing her new one.

“What have you done now, wolf blood?”

Alfre whipped around to see Abital standing in the corner of the room, a dark portal of smoke and shadow closing behind him. His red eyes were trained on Canus, cold and displeased. Wallace gasped behind her and Alfre could practically hear his shaking.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Canus snarled, baring his too sharp teeth.

“I come to collect on the dinner Alfre so kindly offered me only to find her crying at your feet,” Abital drawled coldly. “You can only imagine how this looks on my end.”

Canus’ jaw dropped and he turned back to stare at Alfre. “You did WHAT?”

Alfre snorted and burst out into laughter. “Th-that’s what Wallace said!”

“Alfre is very kind,” Abital informed Canus smugly. “Far kinder than any other Fell I’ve met yet. She must have invited you to dinner as well, yes? I can see no other reason why you’d be here.”

Canus’ ears drooped as he hit Alfre with the most pathetic looking puppy dog eyes she’d seen yet. He could easily give Wallace a run for his money.

“You’d show up even if I didn’t invite you to dinner, Canus,” Alfre reminded him.

Abital frowned. “That’s very rude, Canus, you should only show up when invited.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Alfre insisted, standing up fully. “I like the surprise visits. Brightens my day. You’re welcome to visit any time as well. Seems only fair.”

“Alfre, please don’t invite the god of the underworld to show up randomly at our guildhall,” Spica drawled. “People will get the wrong idea.”

Alfre looked at her over her shoulder, a confused pout on her lips. “What do you mean?”

“They might think we have a murder dungeon in our basement,” Elias grumbled lightly.

Alfre’s brows furrowed as her confusion grew. “But we don’t have a basement.”

Spica and Elias stared at her, sapphire blue and ruby red eyes incredulous.

Alfre shrugged.

Wally was still not over his panic. “The god of the underworld is in our living room. The god of the underworld has come for dinner. The god of the Wilds has been crashing on the couch for days and is also staying for dinner. What is my life? How did it come to this? What is my life?”

“You alright there, Wally?” Alfre asked.

“Peachy, Miss Alfre,” Wally muttered blankly. “Just wondering what the divine usually have for dinner.”

“Fresh venison,” Canus offered.

“I am fond of summer berry wine,” Abital said with a shrug. “Though I do not do much eating. It is not required, though I do enjoy the taste of food sometimes.”

“You don’t need to eat real food because you devour souls,” Canus quipped.

Abital scowled. “That is a lie and you know it. Stop scaring the Wonderlander.”

The wolf god gave a bark of a laugh, trotting off after Wally as the poor boy wandered robotically into the kitchen. Beira loped after him, smiling a wolfy smile. Alfre shook her head, trying and failing to keep the fond smile off her face. She turned to Abital, who looked like he was pouting.

“I’m glad you came,” she told him. “Though I didn’t expect it to be so soon.”

His pout fell into a true frown. “I…do not have many friends. And after meeting you, I found that once you have made a friend, it is easy to get lonely without them.”

Alfre nodded understandingly. “I know the feeling. Like I said, you’re welcome to visit anytime. I can’t promise we’ll be here, but if we are, we’d be happy to talk.”

Dinner was, as it turned out, not venison but mutton. Wally had been saving it for when the party returned from their quest, whether as a pick-me-up after a failure or as a celebratory dinner should it have been a success. He admitted that he hadn’t expected guests, but had simply bought extra because the kind dwarf girl who’d sold them to him had given him a good deal. His unintentional foresight, however, meant there was enough for everyone.

Abital did not speak much during dinner, letting Canus dominate the conversation, as the god of the Wilds was wont to do sometimes. When Alfre glanced his way, however, he flashed her a smile, which she returned with a pleased grin. He seemed to relax when Spica brought out a bottle of rosé from the tiny wine ‘cellar’ that was little more than an extension of the pantry. It turned out his fondness for traditional Wonderlander summer berry wine extended to most any kind of sweet wine. Wally looked like he was going to have a heart attack when, after his third or fourth glass of wine, Abital burst into laughter as Elias told a story of his early years playing Wonderland.

“Good to see that even you have a sense of humor, soul eater,” Canus shouted with a laugh.

“I’ve always had a sense of humor, wolf blood,” Abital replied, swirling the wine in his glass. “Your jokes have just never been particularly good.”

“Burn!” Alfre shouted, startling Beira who lay at her feet.

“And that’s the last glass for you, darling,” Spica muttered, snatching the scotch glass from Alfre’s hand, ignoring the girl’s loud protest.

“Ah, I’d be careful if I were you, Spica,” Elias warned. “You just took a Scotswoman’s alcohol from her. She’s still armed you know.”

“Perhaps, but so am I, magician,” Spica reminded with a smile, leaning closer to his face than was purely necessary.

“Ahhh,” Canus sighed, standing up from his position on a particularly large throw pillow by the fire. “I should probably head out. Things to do, Wilds to patrol. You know how it is, don’t you snowbird?”

“Aye, I know,” Alfre replied with a sleepy smile. “You be careful out there. You’ve had just as much scotch as I have.”

He grinned wolfishly. “True, but I’m also twice as big as you.”

“Rude!” Alfre tossed a pillow at him. “If ya gonna be like that, you can leave.”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” he said, laughing and holding up his hands in surrender. As he passed by he gave Beira a pat and bent down to nuzzle at Alfre’s hair. “Sleep well, snowbird.”

“I would say the same to you, but I doubt you’ll be doing much sleeping tonight.”

Abital watched Canus leave, a curious frown on his face. Once the door had clicked shut, echoing in the mostly empty foyer, he turned back to Alfre, who shared the couch with him. The swordswoman’s frosty blue eyes were drooping as she stared at the smoldering fire.

“Are you tired, Alfre?” he asked, his voice soft. He didn’t fail to notice Spica herding Elias and Wally out of the room with murmurs of cleaning the kitchen and putting the booze away.

Alfre hummed, scratching at her neck absently. Abital took that as a yes and stood, the supposed effects of the alcohol sliding off him. His eyes were bright and his movements steady, contrasting the lax way he’d been behaving before. He leaned down to gather Alfre into his arms, marveling at how tiny she felt cradled in them. How a woman so small and yet so powerful could exist in this world was beyond his comprehension. He tucked her close to his chest as he climbed the stairs, feeling out the residue of Alfre’s soul in the building. It felt cold, but soft, like fresh fallen snow. He followed its path, seeing where Alfre spent her days in the guildhall. He could feel the others’ as well. Wallace’s like grass stains on callused hands; Spica’s like the metallic taste of blood on the tongue; Elias’ like the nervous energy of someone expecting company. He liked this place, he decided. He wanted to spend more time here, in this good place filled with good people with good souls.

He found Alfre’s room, Beira nosing open the door that had been left slightly ajar for him. She gripped the blanket and sheet gently in her teeth and tugged them back for him, so he could lay Alfre down. The sheets were soft, a white color that seemed grey in comparison to her hair. He drew up her covers, brushing her hair from her face, letting his fingers linger on her cheek as he did. Beira huffed at him, giving him a look that was far too knowing for his taste. Damn Canus and his wolves, they were too smart for their own good.

He spared Alfre one last glance and a whispered ‘good night’ before slipping out her door and through a portal of smoke and shadow back to his dark and lonely throne room.