Fairy Bride Ch24: The Girl She Used to Be (Patreon)

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“Inside, there’s always been someone who’s not me.”

Daphne is forced to pause her trembling body.  The air’s turned thick and hazy. Zetti’s found a copse of trees for them to shelter under, shielded from the world by branches and leaves.  She sits on his suit jacket, her back against a log.

“At first, I called her Lyra.  A nymph from the Wilds. She was being hunted, by people who wanted her destroyed, and she hid within me to keep herself safe.  But now…”  Daphne exhales, her hand pressing into her heart.  “... now she’s not alone.  Now she’s not the only one being hunted.”

Zetti doesn’t reply.  In fact, he hasn’t spoken at all.

“... This other girl, she’s spent her whole life running.  Hiding.  People always want to change her, make her be something else for her own good.  But it’s never really about her.  Spencer finally caught her, but he wasn’t the first.  All these people never stopped to think about what it would do to her.  Never stopped to care.”

Another pause.  Daphne feels her denim jacket tighten as her fists clench around it.

“... so I will.”

Daphne blinks, feeling tears on her cheeks.  No use stopping them now.

“The night he took me, I hid that girl away.  Somewhere distant, and secret, to wait for the Keeping’s end.  Until then, I promised her that I’d fight him.  I’d fight everyone, for as long as I have to.  Until I know she’s safe.”

“If she’s in hiding,” Zetti finally speaks.  “Who are you?”

Daphne lifts her head, and lets Zetti see the hollowness in her eyes.

“The person Daphne has to be.”

Zetti frowns.  “Spencer cares about you.”

“He does.”

“Mallory won’t keep her safe.”

“He won’t.”

“So how does he protect the girl?  How does that stop the fighting?”

“That’s just it.  It doesn’t.”  Daphne shakes her head, showing a mirthless smile.  “With Mallory, I can still hate him.  I can still fight.  The girl has a chance.  But with Spencer…”

She struggles for breath.  Memories flood, one after the other.  The kiss on the balcony.  His smile on their walks. Laughing on their first dance.  She sees the panic in Spencer’s eyes the morning she screamed and shattered the spirits.  The sobs he gave by the fountain.  Her legs start to wobble.  Her gut starts to wrench.

“Zetti... I’m so tired.”  Daphne whimpers.  “I can’t fight him.”

She sees all of Spencer.  The good and the bad, mixing together into something she can’t hate and something she can’t bring close.  Impossible to comprehend.

“Because I…  I think I…”

She can’t manage the word, but she knows the feelings are true.  And the tears start falling faster.

“But if you stop fighting, if you give in to that love…”  Zetti continues.  “The girl inside is gone.”

She nods.  “Before she ever had a chance.”

He watches her in silence for a long time.  Wincing at her sobs.

“Go on,” Daphne sniffles.  “Tell me that I’m crazy.  That I ought to be grateful, like any nymph should.”

Another long pause, before Zetti climbs to his feet.  He takes slow steps forward, stopping a short distance away.

“I want you to see something.”

Daphne looks up from her tear stained jacket.  Zetti’s offered his hand.  She stares at it warily, before looking up to his eyes.  “See what?”

“Something that can only be shown.”  A purple aura manifests across his body, swallowing the light around him but for the amber glow in his eyes.  He stretches the hand further, and his voice doubles.  “Please.  Trust me.”

After a long, hesitant pause, Daphne squeezes it.  The air turns sterile as the darkness surrounds her.  Distantly, she remembers the sensations of the Shadow-Walker, Henri.  But this is more intrusive, more personal.  Like the forest has blurred, and she’s staring at it through foggy glass.

“Wh-What’s happening?”

“We’re going to a place that will show you what you’ve always feared.”  Zetti whispers as the trees fade.  “I know.  Because I feared it, too.”

Daphne blinks, and a different world greets her.

It’s a world of dull concrete and half-rusted metal sheeting.  She backs away from the two massive planes that rise above her, hulking bombs attached to their thrusters.  Beyond, the rest is an open awning, with air both stale and sharp to the taste.  If Daphne wasn’t wearing a glamour, her antennae would surely recoil.  Iron is everywhere in this space, sinking into each breath.

It must be an old hangar.

Daphne clutches her neck, trying to claw back the tang.  Behind, someone laughs.  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.  I nearly choked the first time, too.”

She turns and sees Zetti, surprisingly comfortable amidst the toxins, standing arms folded before a large, iron-barred cage.  Inside prowls an eight-foot-tall wolf, oblivious to either of them.  The familiar sound of rattling chains echoes with its steps.  Four cuffs, bolted to each ankle.

“That’s you.”  She whispers, squinting.  “Zetti, where are we?”

“Where?  Not far.  When?”  Zetti points back to a small desk beneath one of the planes.  Daphne walks carefully forward, spying the calendar.

“Avril 1965,” she reads with wide eyes.  “But that was almost sixty years ago.”

“Really?”  Zetti shrugs.  “I was never good at tracking time.”

Daphne lowers the calendar, everything starting to click.  “This must have been when they captured you.  Not Alienor, but her father.”

“True.  But…”  Zetti lifts his head and looks beyond her, to the massive doors.  Daphne’s startled by a giant rattling noise as the hangar creaks open.  “... He didn’t hold my pelt.”

Before Daphne can ask what he means, two figures approach, silhouetted by a sunrise.  A man, with a curling moustache and pale eyes, ducking beneath the plane wings.  And beside him, someone much smaller.  She still has chestnut hair, soft features, and even a black dress.  But the whip in her hands is far too large.  Her eyes are terrified, and she barely stands at four feet tall.

Something in Daphne shrivels.  “Oh my God.”

Alienor Lousteau can’t be more than nine years old.

The Lousteaus walk past Daphne without a glance, focused on the cage.  As they near, the wolf growls, but it doesn’t stop Alienor’s father from grabbing his keyring.  The door slides open, Alienor’s pushed in, and Daphne gasps as the cage is locked again behind her.

The wolf rises to its feet, growls, and inches nearer.  Alienor turns to her father with a look of clear concern, but it’s ignored.  The man simply strolls past Daphne, and sets himself in his desk chair.  Silently watching.

Alienor stands tall and bolt-stiff, her fists clenched.  She looks at her father again.  “He’s… fierce.”

The man nods, and gestures to a bucket on Alienor’s left.  She takes a step towards it, then immediately recoils.  Inside are massive slabs of meat.  A dozen flies have already found it.  Her breathing picks up.  “Father, I-”

“Are you scared, Alienor?  Is that wolf too large?”

As if on cue, the monster snarls.  Alienor pulls the whip close and meekly nods.

“Good.  Because the wolves around us are larger.”  Monsieur Lousteau’s voice turns harsh.  “You are my only child.  The inheritor of all this.  And before my body cools in the ground, the others will tear you to pieces.”

“But I-”

“Do you want this, Alienor?”  He hisses.

Alienor bites her lip, trembling.  “Yes.”

“Then find the man inside the beast.”  He leans back into his chair.  “And tame him.”

Daphne watches Alienor rush to the bucket.  Pulling the bloody meat out with a shaking arms.  The moment it becomes visible, the wolf lunges at her, eyes glowing.  The child screams before the chains can pull the beast back, leaving him thrashing at the restraints.

Alienor looks to her father again for support.  Finding none, she walks forward, dangling the steak.  “H-Hello.  I’m Alienor, your new Keeper.  My father calls you Benezetto.  You’re my Kept.  Keeper, Kept.  Keeper, Kept.”

She tosses the meat into the air, and the wolf pounces, splattering the concrete with bits of gore.  Alienor keeps her ground, hands folded, shaking.

“Keep going, Alienor!”  Her father calls out.  “Positive reinforcement.”

“G-good boy, Benezetto.”  Alienor slowly extends her hand.  The wolf keeps tearing through the meat, seemingly ignoring her.  “I’m feeding you, see?  L-like a guide.”

“I was afraid.”  Zetti walks to Daphne’s side, speaking quietly.  “I didn’t understand where I was or who I was with.”

The wolf stops eating when Alienor’s hand nears his head.  “I can be your protector,” Alienor still whispers.  “I can keep you safe.”

“And in that confusion…”  Zetti frowns.  “... I turned to anger.”

The wolf’s eyes burst with colour, and the rest is a blur.  Alienor’s on the concrete, screaming wildly, as the wolf howls in her face, trying desperately to tear her apart.  The Keeping just holds him back, her dress shredded to pieces.

“Father, father, FATHER!”  Tears sting Alienor’s eyes, but her father says nothing.  Eventually her eyes flash back.  “GET AWAY!”

The wolf is thrown into the iron bars, roaring in pain.  Alienor takes the chance to rise to her feet and level the whip against him.  She doesn’t know what she’s doing, thrashing it around like a bludgeon, but she hits him enough times to clearly hurt.

“You are my Kept!”  The child shouts, struggling with the weight in her hands.  “You have to respect me!”

The wolf charges, and Alienor manages to whip him back.  He tries again. And again.  And again.  Daphne trembles when she sees all the marks.  Dozens crossing over each other, red with blood.

Alienor screams.  “I AM YOUR KEEPER!”

“I fought too, Daphne.  For the home I had lost.  For the clan I could not see.  I would fight until I had clawed through the bars, or this stranger ruled a corpse alone. I thought war was the only way out.”

Through the cracks of the whip, Daphne can see Alienor’s tears.

“And I didn’t understand the costs of fighting.”

“No,” Spencer whispers, shaking his head.  “Are you mad!?”

“Madness is repeating the same mistakes.”  Alienor hisses.  “You have let her emotions guide you for too long.  If you want her faith, she’ll need a firm hand.”

“You think she’ll be faithful!?”  Spencer sputters. “I’ve been trying to regain her trust.  For three years!  And in a single night, you’d have me squander it!”

“Something lasting will take its place.”  Alienor walks forward, even as Spencer backs away.  “The Tower will save your marriage.  It alone has the tools you need-”

“What about her needs!?”  Spencer shouts.  “She has nightmares, even now!  How will that change!?  How can I ask her to hold a child, look at a child, if they’re just a reminder-”

“She’ll adapt.  She’ll move on.  She’ll fall happily into service, like all the nymphs before-”

“Don’t call her a FUCKING NYMPH!”  Spencer’s voice cracks.  Alienor steps back, but her expression doesn’t change.  “It doesn’t matter what she is, it’s not right.  It’s no excuse to stop treating her like a person!”

“Haven’t you stopped already?”

“Heh.  Heheh.  Hehehehahahahaha, I see where this is going!”  Spencer laughs. leaning against the patio wall.  He studies her.  “Let me guess, let me guess.  You’re gonna call me weak?  A coward?”

Alienor’s frown is her only reply.  It makes Spencer laugh harder.

“It’s always the same with you people,” he shakes his head.  “You miserable, power-crazed people.  Moving from one monstrosity to the next, just waiting for me to get in line!”  He uprights himself, giggling more.  “As if my eyes and my ears mean nothing.  As if I'm craven for doing the right thing!”

“You’re not a coward because you fear monsters, Spencer.”

He flares. “Then tell me why everyone disagrees!”

“Because you can’t admit that you are one.”

Spencer pales.  The patio goes quiet.  Alienor leans so close he can smell her breath.

“Why does your Kept need to be happy, Harcourt?  Have you ever stopped yourself to ask?”

“I-Is it not obvious?”  He mutters incredulously.  “If I don’t listen-”

“Nothing happens.  Nothing could happen.”  Alienor stands.  “And you know that.  You rely on that.  Because you don’t listen to what she says.  You hear only what you need!”

“What the fuh-fuh-FUCK are you tuh-talking about?”  His breath picks up with his stutter.  “Eh-eh-everything I’ve done, this entire trip, it’s all for her!”

“It’s not!  It never is!”  Alienor snaps.  “Or she wouldn’t be ordered to smile.  She would go outside when she chooses!”

“STOP IT!”  Spencer clutches his head.  “Y-y-you h-have to STOP!”

“Prove me wrong!”  Alienor spits. “You can stop playing Keeper, right now.  You can do the right thing, for once.  Five words could make today the happiest day she’s ever known.  Five, Spencer!  ‘I will let you go.’”

Spencer’s heart stops.  “Luh-luh-luh-luh-let her go?”  He’s far too quiet.  “Buh-buh-but the police-”

“Would she be wrong to call them?”

The door rattles with his shaking.  No no no no no no no no.  His nails have dug into his skull, well past the point of pain. It’s happening all over again.  It’s happening.

“She put you up to this!”  He points accusingly.  “She’s feeding you poison!  She’s telling you LIES!”

“And if she’s not?”

“She’s young.  And silly.”  Spencer’s ears start ringing.  “And-and-and you know how nymphs are-”

“Their feelings don’t matter?”

“SHUT UP!”  Spencer’s breathing picks up.  His body feels like it’s being shoved through a funnel.  “She was running, and I panicked, and the spell was supposed to work, and I didn’t have a choice-”

“Stop hiding behind lies!”  Alienor barks.  “The choice was always yours-”

“AND I WAS WRONG!”

Spencer’s voice echoes across the valley, sending dozens of birds to flight.  Even L Morgan seems rattled.  He watches Alienor’s face until his vision blurs.

“Do you think I’m too dumb to see that?”  He smiles blankly.  “Do you think I don’t know how much I’ve hurt her?”

Spencer slides off the door, crumpling to the ground.  Alienor stays silent as he wraps around himself, chest to knees.  For a while, the only audible thing is his rattled breathing.  But eventually, an arm over his eyes, he manages to speak.

“I love that woman.  More than anyone, or anything.  And I destroyed her.  I ruined her life.  Do you know what knowing that feels like?  Can you even conceive?”  He shudders, struggling.  “I think about that night every time I look in the mirror.  Every time I touch her skin, or feel her face.  How the fuck am I supposed to carry that?  Do you think I want to be the villain!?”

Alienor finally speaks.  “You didn’t come here to make her happy.  You came here to atone.”

“If she’s happy, it can still be good.  If she loves me, it can be okay.”  Spencer tightens his face.  “I’m so tired of hurting her.  She deserves a better life.  This is the only way.”

“It’s not.”  Alienor leans down, her voice soft.  “Spencer, if you release her-”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… it’s…”  He closes his eyes.  “It’s the only way for me.”

Alienor’s face collapses, and Spencer shrinks further down.  Until he can’t see the world, and the world can’t see him.

“Nymphs were made to love.  That’s what the stories always say.  So if Daphne can’t love me…”

He swallows, and tears speck his eyes.

“... who can?”

The hangar becomes a swirling mass of shadows, the elder Lousteau fading away.  The sun rises and sets, snow piles and melts, and Daphne's antennae flood with the scents of autumn, summer and spring.  Alienor changes too: her body is taller, her features sharper.  From a child to a woman, all while Zetti stays the same, except for the scars that grow across his face.

The only constants are the concrete at her feet, the iron from all sides, and the sounds of a cracking whip and snarling beast.

Between bouts of Alienor’s screams, Daphne looks at the real Zetti.  “How long did this go on for?”

He watches it all unfold dispassionately.  “It doesn’t matter.”

Daphne’s brows wilt.  “How often did she do this?”

“Every day.  Her father forbid anything less.  Eventually, I noticed my portions were growing smaller.  She was stealing the meat, because failures weren’t allowed supper.”

Daphne looks at Alienor.  The blisters on her hands.  The fury in her eyes.  “How could you fall in love with her?  After she did this?”

“She was a child.”

“A child could have spoken with you.  A child could have refused.”  Daphne frowns.  “She had choices, Zetti.”

“No.  People don’t have choices.  Not when they’re afraid.”

Something in Daphne’s throat clenches.  A resistance.  But before she can speak, there’s a shift in the air.  She turns, and sees that the river of time no longer flows.  Alienor’s grown.  Walking into the cage with her familiar poise, watching Zetti tear through his meal with those sharp eyes.  She’s a teenager.

“Come on, you cur.”  She whispers under her breath.  “Eat.  Eat.”

The wolf's bites are slower. He doesn’t lunge with the same fervour, and his eyes have dimmed.  “What’s happening?”  Daphne asks.

“I was tired.”  Zetti frowns.  “The memories of my home had faded.  I was waiting for the end.”

After a moment, Alienor moves forward, hand lifted.  She leans closer than Daphne’s seen before.

“Kneel,” she hisses, her brows bent.  “You are my Kept.  I am your Keeper.  You HAVE TO FUCKING KNEEL!”

Zetti lunges, jaws nearly snapping Alienor’s hand.  She extends her baton, slamming it against his face.  Over, and over, and over.  But when she roars, Daphne hears no fear in her voice.

Just frustration, and something deeper.

The wolf rears up, launching Alienor into the wall.  Her baton flies out of the bars, so she grabs a whip in its place.  Climbing to her feet, charging with a shout… but she never levels it.  The girl’s entire form freezes, her arm jerking wildly in place.  Even the wolf has stopped, watching her spurts with glowing eyes.

Zetti speaks over the scene.  “I had already accepted that one day, I would break.  So I never saw…”

The whip falls through the air, and lands on the concrete.  As if in slow motion, Alienor sinks to her knees.

“... that she was breaking.”

What starts as whimpers explodes into wails.  Alienor hugs herself, sobbing.  The wolf approaches her slowly with a growl.

“Stop.  Just stop.”  Alienor looks up, her voice small.  “I’ll give you what you want, but… please.”

She breaks into tears again.  The wolf might be an animal, but Daphne can see its confusion.  It’s hesitation.

“My father died today.”  Alienor stares at the floor, speaking distantly.  “The will was read.  I lost.  The company, this hangar, it’s… it’s all gone.  So I came to you.”  She chuckles, offering a shaky smile as the tears drip down.  “Isn’t that funny, Benezetto?  We’ve been at this for so long that… I haven’t had time for passions, or people.  You hate my guts, but you’re the only one who cares.”

Alienor slowly tilts her head, until the wolf’s jaws are right above her exposed neck.

“Go home, Benezetto.  Follow my scent, and you’ll find the pelt.  I won’t spend my last day fighting.  I just… want one thing.”

Daphne can see the flash in the wolf’s eyes.  Trembling, Alienor juts her neck out even further.

“Promise you won’t forget me, Benezetto,” she whimpers.  “Before I die, I’d like to make a friend.”

But the wolf doesn’t bite down.  It stands there, maw open, with a fear to match his Keeper’s calm.

“You asked me, Daphne, how I could love her?”  The real Zetti sighs.  “Because love is love.  Pain is pain.  And we can feel both.  This world, these people, they’re not good or bad alone.  Blacks don’t wash out the whites.  Whites don’t wash out the blacks.”

Alienor looks up, confused.  Keeper and Kept stare into each other’s eyes.

“Maybe her love was broken.  Maybe it wasn’t right.  But when I saw her face that day, I saw someone who was hurt by this war.  Just like me, she was scared and alone.  I could’ve won.  I could’ve run.  The door was open, and I could flee from all that connection meant.”

Daphne clasps her hands together, watching the two.  Something surges in her heart, and fills her eyes.

“But I’d leave her to suffer, for daring to reach out.  I’d abandon the person who first called me friend.”  Zetti exhales, his voice growing heavy.  “Would I sacrifice that for my memories?  Is more pain all that my freedom would bring?”

Alienor opens her eyes.  She no longer feels the wolf’s breath on her neck.  A second later, a massive head lowers onto her knees, its jaws closed.  She starts to twitch away, until the wolf pushes forward his maw.

Resting in her hand.

“So I chose to stop fighting.”

Alienor rubs her fingers through his fur.  Watching, in silence, as his tail starts to wag.

“I chose the other way.”

“Beh-...”  Alienor cuts herself off with a laugh, petting the wolf more quickly.  As she does, the tail wags faster, and it makes her laugh more.  Tears still in her eyes, she leans into him, nuzzling his cheek.  The wolf plops down, enveloping her in fur.

“Zetti,” Alienor whispers, squeezing.  “Forget what Father called you.  You’ll always be my Zetti.”

The two fade away, along with the cage, the hangar, everything.  Daphne’s in a void, floating on nothingness . Still, she calls out.  Curling within.

“No.  There is no other way.  He’s a monster, I can’t trust him!”

“He’s hurt you, and you’ve been hurt.”  Zetti’s words echo around her ears.  “But that doesn’t mean you have to fight.  That doesn’t mean you have to keep hurting.  Astraea, Ian, Lyra.  How many people have you run from?  How many places have you hid?”

Something inside Daphne churns.  Sensations flood back.  Shame and doubt and terror.  Lavender and rain.  “I have to stay strong.  She needs me to fight!”

“And what about what you need?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does,” Zetti says.  “More than you know.  It’s why your body wars against itself, why you can’t embrace Guy, even now.  Daphne, you’re scared of love, but you need the peace love brings.”

Daphne wraps her arms around her stomach.  Everything’s becoming tight,

“Peace is not surrendering the girl who came before…”

She blinks, and the forest returns.  The wind, the birdsong.  Zetti, with ancient eyes, his hand still offered.

“... Peace means giving life to the woman you can be.”

She shudders and coils back from him, thoughts starting and stopping like scratches on a record.  Still Zetti walks forward, eyes set, never halting.  Until his hand clutches her shoulder, and fingers gently tap her skin.

“Because I’ve met you, Daphne Harcourt, and you’re not an empty shell.  You’re standing, right here.  And you deserve a chance.”

Daphne falls into him, tears flowing freely.  Zetti hugs her, firm and soft, petting her hair.

“Wha… wha…” she sniffles, blubbering.  “What do I tell her?”

“That you fought your hardest.  That you tried your best.  But the war is over now, and it’s time to say goodbye.”

Thunder rumbles under his words.  Furs and heather and lemon balm crash and mix together.  She grips Zetti's clothes even tighter, a rock against the storm.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, muffled in the white clothes.  “I’m sorry.  I-I-I can’t protect…”

Zetti holds her close, and she melts beneath his arms.

Without the birds, the valley is eerily silent.  Spencer rocks himself quietly, mumbling little nothings.  How much time has passed, he doesn’t know.  But Alienor has knelt beside him through it all, never shifting her expression.

“Does it ever end?”  He asks, quietly.  “Do I ever get to be good?”

Alienor frowns.  “The Keeping is monstrous.  And that means we must be monsters.  It’s the path you’ve chosen, and it’s a path you can’t leave.”

Spencer’s head slowly sinks into his knees.

“But you don’t need to atone,” she continues.  “To earn her love.”

He shoots up, searching her face.  Alienor slowly rises to her feet.

“The nymph is stuck in her past, but so are you.  To move forward, you cannot look back.  You must focus on the light, the steps you cannot yet see, and take her with.  Drag her if you must, or you’ll both be lost forever.”

Alienor offers her hand.

“Daphne could never love Spencer.  But she can learn to love her Keeper.”

He watches her black glove with piercing eyes.  A final tremor of doubt, a lingering scream from his conscience.  But he swallows them down, like he always has.

Sets his brow.

And grasps it.

The porch of the Lousteau’s hunting lodge is loud with the wind.  As summer fades, the mountain air becomes chilly, and Spencer briefly considers hopping about to keep warm.  But he doesn't need Alienor’s withering glance to stop himself.

A Keeper should be composed.

They stand on the wooden steps together, dressed head to toe in black.  His eyes glisten as he sees figures on the hilly road, stopping just behind the trees.  Zetti comes out alone, his figure massive, his clothes pristine.  When he climbs the stairs Alienor welcomes him with open arms.  Per custom, he kisses her cheek.

Something pulls at Spencer’s gut.  He looks over, anxious.  “Benezetto, is she…?”

“Give her a moment.  She’s coming.”

New sounds rise from the gravel road.  Footsteps, but much quieter.  Spencer turns just as a yellow hat appears, its brim large and wide.  Auburn locks follow, then a denim jacket, light brown boots, and a short ivory dress that billows in the wind.  He can finally see his wife’s face.

Her eyes are red and dry.

Daphne stops the moment she makes eye contact with Spencer.  Through deep breaths, she clenches her fists, unable to take that step.  There’s no walking back if she does.  He’ll take everything he can.

It doesn’t have to be like this.  There have to be other ways.

But she knows it does, and she knows there aren’t.  She can’t fight.  She can’t run.  This is the only way to peace, and peace is all she has.

So Daphne lifts her head, forces a soft smile, and walks briskly towards her future.

Alienor and Zetti beam as she approaches, while Spencer seems to struggle keeping posture.  He’s studying her footsteps, mechanical and even.  When she climbs the last step, he offers his hand.  “Good afternoon, Kept.”  He sounds shaky.  “Anything going on?”

Daphne stares at the hand for a moment before grasping it.  Squeezing it.  Pushing her fingers into his until everything’s locked in.  Painful sensations roll through her, and she pushes them all down.  He’s not hurting her, she tells herself.  The touch is showing love.

So she twirls around and leans into him, pressing her back to his chest.

“Nothing, Spence.”  Her smile widens.  “I’m ready to serve.”

Spencer grows pale, but Alienor seems overjoyed.  “Well done, beloved.  It seems your strategy went marvellously.  Care to share it with me now?”

“I’m sorry, mistress, but for Daphne’s confidence, I can’t.”  Zetti replies with a sad smile.  “The most I’ll say is… we had a productive conversation about changing perspectives.”

“Perspectives?”  Spencer looks at her in complete bewilderment.  “What were they?”

Daphne feels shame.  He doesn’t trust her, even now, and she knows it’s deserved.  It’s going to take a long time to earn all that back.

“Never mind them, Spencer.” Alienor breaks her reverie.  “You had an announcement?”

His touch still makes Daphne want to squirm.  She tells herself she’ll get used to it.

“... yes.”  Spencer nods curtly before forcefully spinning Daphne around.  She allows him, smiling a bit wider when he kneels down to eye-level.

“Darling…”  Spencer blinks a few times.  “Alienor has pointed out many… failings in my authority.  I haven’t been guiding you as a Keeper should, and for that, I apologise.”

She nods along, feeling a slight pang of guilt.  It was just like Spencer to always take her blows.

“But to help you return to your path, and remember… our place,” he continues.  “Those mistakes have to be corrected.  And that’s going to cause pain.”

He squeezes the denim jacket.

“I’m sorry, Daphne.  You have to give me back the coloured clothes.”  Spencer recoils on instinct.  “I-I know-”

He stops, watching in astonishment as Daphne shrugs out of her jacket and slides her feet from her boots.  She gathers the bundle into her arms.  Her hand taps her sun hat, briefly considering, before delicately adding it to the pile.

“Here you are, Keeper.”

Though Spencer looks stunned, she spots Zetti’s grin in the corner of her eye.  Daphne has to blink to keep the tears unseen, but she tells herself that’s okay.  That she’s happy Spencer loves her so much that he’d break the rules for her.

At least she got to wear them.  If only for a day.

Spencer still won’t move, so Alienor takes the bundle in his stead.  “Thank you, Kept.  I’ll make sure these are destroyed.  And I’ll contact my operators for an extraction.  Your interview nears, and your holiday is almost over.  The two of you deserve some time alone.”

“Thank you.  B-Both of you.”  Spencer mutters when he finally collects himself, rising to his feet.  Like clockwork, Daphne tucks herself back into him.  “We appreciate that you tried to help, no mater what comes after.”

Zetti puts his fist over his chest, and bows to Spencer.  He then faces Daphne.  “Farewell, Mrs. Harcourt, and good luck.  You might be my first Otherworlder, but I’m glad to call you friend.”

She bows in turn.  “I’ll do my best.”

“I know,” he grins.  “You’re brave.”

“Spencer, parlons en français,” Alienor walks up to them.  “J'ai quelques derniers mots.”

Spencer leans in.  She whispers in his ear.

“Lorsque nous avons parlé pour la première fois, j'ai demandé : « Que veux-tu ?  Vous n'avez jamais répondu.  Can you answer that now?”

Spencer’s face sets.  “Oui.”

“Then don’t forget it.”  And with that, she walks away.  “It will take time for my pilots to reach us.  So… any final requests?”

“Keeper?”  Daphne tugs his sleeve.  “May I offer a suggestion?”

He chuckles uneasily.  “Of course?”

Daphne turns to Alienor.  “We never finished the portrait.”

Something glows in the Keeper’s eyes.

Her breaths are sharp and harsh.  Each inhale feels like she’s swallowing a bar of iron.

Daphne Harcourt’s antennae explore the room, but for no purpose.  She knows she’s in a nest, seven hundred miles and a whole sea away.  Bronze sheets block most of her vision, but through the metal, she still sees.  The mannequins in the corner.  The bed layered with flowers and furs.  And the posters, hundreds of them, all displaying a nymph like her, grinning just as wide.

Grinning, even as she straddles the lap of the man who destroyed her.

But it’s fine, she knows, as long as she keeps herself straight, and as long as that smile shows.  It’s impressive how much attention one can place in their own posture, blurring the rest away.  Distantly, she watches Alienor withdraw her smallest brush, and swirl paints into their usual darkened greys.  She places the tip on the nymph’s portrait, and curves Daphne’s lips up, both ways.

So that finally, the picture stands, completed.

Spencer sets L Morgan on the table before locking the ebony door.  He only breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the helicopter take off.

They’re finally alone.

Spencer presses his forehead into the wood, trying to form some plans for tonight.  But he stops when he hears Daphne near him, a little hitch in her breath.  He turns back, squinting.  Wouldn’t she want to run off?

But she stands tall with her hands folded.  Staring right at him.

“What are you doing?” Spencer asks.

She hesitates.  “I’m waiting for your commands.”

Spencer chuckles.  Genuinely laughs.  Daphne’s brows knit in concern as her smile wavers.  “Spence?”

“Okay.”  He faces her fully, gesturing.  “First, you don’t have to keep calling me Spence.  It’s just a dumb nickname.”

“It’s what you said you wanted,” she says.  It makes him scowl.

“Drop the act, Daphne.  It’s… it’s not a great time for jokes.”

He sees something twitch in her body.  Momentary fear, before she reverts to her posture.  “Keeper, I’m not joking.”

Keeper.  Full title.  No cringing.  “Well, you’re freaking me out.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?  Cooking, cleaning?  I could turn on the Wii? W-w-we could go clothes shopping?  Just tell me what you-”

“Stop.”  He lifts his hand just as her breathing picks up, and she gives him a frantic glance.  “Just… take a breath, please.”

“Okay.”  She tries to steady herself, tapping her foot.  “Taking a breath.  Ooooooh-kay.”

“Good.”  Spencer exhales.  “We weren’t working before.  I know that, I’ll admit.  And there are going to be changes, and I’ll be going over each of them, but darling.  It’s over!  You’re safe!”

She blinks a few times.  “Y-you’re not mad?  After everything?”

“No?”  He chuckles, failing to follow her thoughts.  “Wh-why would I be?”

He gasps.  Daphne’s hugging him.  Just flew right into his chest, and burrowed herself inside.  Her small arms have pinned his elbows, preventing him from moving, and her voice is muffled by his shirt.  “Thank you.  Thank you so much.”

He can feel her trembling.  Spencer doesn’t reply, simply staring into the lights.

She laughs, then sniffles, then embraces him even more tightly.  “You’re going to help me, right? You’re going to build us a future?”

Something twists in his gut.  He can’t say the words now.  “Yes.”

“Thank you.  I need it.  I…”  she hesitates for a moment.  “... I need you.”

Only when Spencer hears those words, do his shoulders relax.  He looks down at the little nymph, barely holding back her sobs, and sees someone who wants to be guided.  Who needs to be safe.  Who’s relying on him.

Exactly like they were always supposed to be.

“Okay.”  Spencer speaks slowly.  “You want… orders.”

“Please,” she nods.

“Would you like to read?”

“I’d like whatever you like.”

“Then… hold me.”  Spencer says quietly.  “Hold me, and never let go.”

Daphne listens to the crickets outside, her silky wings pressed against her Keeper’s chest.  They’re in the same positions they took their first night in the villa.  She knows he only requested such because he still expects her to say ‘no.’

But here they both are.  Wide awake.

The Tower lingers in her mind, as imposing as the painting that inspired it.  She’ll only have to do it once this holiday, he tells her.  Just because it’s important they start.  Through all his plans, Daphne smiled and nodded, focused on the ends when she couldn’t bear to handle the means.  Most importantly, she reassured him.  She knows he’ll make it enjoyable, she knows he’ll be careful.  It was so like him to get skittish.

That’s how much he cares.

But there’s something else prowling through her thoughts, too.  Something she’s left unsaid.  She’s terrified of how he’ll respond, but knows she has to trust him regardless.  Whatever happens, Daphne deserves it.  An old life’s final lesson, before she never looks back.

“Spence?”  She calls out.

“Yeah?”

“Can I speak?”

“... Turn around.”  He says it like he would a command, but there’s no magic behind it.  Daphne will obey just the same.  She shifts against the covers and nestles against his pillow.  Letting him pet her cheek.  “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve betrayed you.”

He looks concerned.  “Daphne, stop doing this.  I don’t like seeing you beat yourself up over-”

“I… no,” she shakes her head.  “I’m sorry, Keeper, but this isn’t in the past.  It’s happening now.  And if we don’t do something about it…”

She looks into his eyes.

“Spencer, we need to talk about Guy.”

continue reading -> 

Hoooooooo boy.  Howdy y’all!  BIG chapter today!  I’m sure this one got a LOT of feelings from you all, so I’m really excited to know your thoughts!

Big shoutout to our proofreaders today, who have done a lot through this whole section.  Alienor and Zetti’s arc was easily the most challenging part of writing this story, and I hope our combined efforts have made it strong.

I’ll ask the questions that are probably on everyone’s minds?  What the hell just happened, and what the hell happens now?  You’ll find out in Daphne’s long-awaited confrontation with the truth.  Chapter 25: The Interview, coming Friday, December 29th.  Happy holidays, and we’ll see you then!