Work Text:
There is a moment during the night in many villages, where you can be sure that everyone is asleep; the time can differ depending on place and circumstances, but you will know immediately when it has occurred. For the lights in houses would have all gone out, and not a single soul stands before the darkened streets. The liveliest of villages become cemeteries in an instant; the moon a silent guard dancing between clouds and stars. And if you deem a time like this does not exist, then it is because you yourself have fallen prey to it.
Calw also had a moment like this; it happened when the moon was high in the sky, and the clock of the old Sinclair house had struck eleven. Being old-fashioned and traditional, citizens found it difficult in non-festive days to stay up past ten thirty.
However, against all odds, it was right at that moment when a gentle light flickered within a room. The window was closed, the blinds mostly drawn, but if you happened to be around, and close enough to the Sinclairs’ mansion, you would be able to see it on the second floor: a small glimmer, barely visible in the dark from afar; only meant for the eyes of its creator, to guide hands towards a fashionable coat and a pair of trousers. A gentle candle, almost at the end of its life, watching over as a young woman with little innocence left to her did her hair as best as she could, and looked quizzically at some makeup she had borrowed from her sister before shaking her head. A lady in her twenties or so, looking at her face in the mirror, pulling at the skin as if it could mold it into a preferred shape. She spent a lot of time in that room in the mornings, trying to figure over and over again if her face bore imperfections that were not meant to be there. But it was not morning right now; the flicker of the candle reminded her of such. And the young woman jumped from her seat, remembering that she had better things to do.
The window to her room was on the second floor; but she was not afraid, for she had made the descent many times before. Every night it became a little easier to travel down, land on the fresh cut grass without dirtying her nightgown, ensure that there really was no one watching her. She looked around a few more times for safety; then she picked up the ends of her skirt, and trotted off, beyond her house, beyond Calw.
At the border of the village, before the dusty roads switched to broken asphalt, there was a forest. It was not too thick, and in fact if you travelled far enough you could make it to the next town over; but it surrounded the perimeter of Calw like a Fae ring, and its pattern alternated between high trees and patches of flowerbeds. It was the kind of place you went to when the confines of your house stopped entertaining you, to test your courage against what lies ahead of the safer and tamer world. A place to explore with others. To meet others.
Here every night for many nights now, the young woman ventured. She followed a precise path, one for which she needed no light to guide her. And she was quick on her feet, almost breaking into a run, her cheeks flushed red, her heart beating fast. Some kind of frenzy took over her whenever she was inside the forest at that time, having an opposite effect to that which sent her village to sleep. Perhaps the tales they told children were true; perhaps the rumours that older people spread behind her back had some meaning outside of the venom. Maybe she really had been cursed…
The young woman shook her head, focusing on her path; her destination was not “far”, but to her in that moment, even the seconds that ticked by seemed wasted. It was why her steps hastened, and she almost tripped on her feet. Patience, patience, her mother would have said, had she not been recoiling in horror. Patience my child.
Oh Wings, what are you doing? Why are you here? To think that a child of mine would-!
Again, she shook those thoughts away. The rest of the world did not matter. All that mattered was reaching the sacred meadow, her destination, and then, and then…
Finally, finally she crossed the barrier of trees before her, and there it was: the meadow of crimson roses, covering a grass floor and encircled by deep red bushes and stray trees. Fireflies dotted the air around her, their bright light shining against unusual lamps made up of roots and thorns. And there, in the middle of it all, surrounded by thousands and thousands of rose buds that never wilted…
“Sancho”
The young woman breathed out the name, as if she did not expect Her to be there once again. Even though they had sworn to see each other whenever the moon shone, at that exact place. It was difficult to fathom, to accept even now: a Fae creature of such majesty, cared for someone like her.
The Fae turned Her head, the crown of thorns and roses atop Her golden hair gently shivering at Her movement. Her crimson eyes scanned the surroundings, before landing on the lonely figure at the edge of the meadow. then , Her tranquil - almost bored - demeanour changed like a switch had been flipped: Her face broke into a soft smile, and Her hand beckoned for the human to come closer.
“Good evening, my Dear”
Her voice was low, but the affection was palpable in every syllable. The young woman’s face turned even redder, as she carefully stepped forward into the meadow until their hands could join at last.
“G- Good evening to you too” she greeted, bowing. It was not necessary, but it was a habit from when they had first met that she could not shake off.
“I see you’re as punctual as ever” the Fae smiled, and She neared their joined hands to Her lips, placing a kiss on the woman’s knuckles. “Your excitement flatters me”
“Why of course” the youth smiled, though turning her face away. “H- how could I not be excited to see you?”
“Fair enough”
Sancho pulled her close then, their bodies pressed together like glue. The young woman reluctantly let go of the soft hand to hold the Fae’s waist for support, heart leaping into her throat. She had been close enough to see Sancho in many ways, but even now the sight of the Fae’s face still took her breath away: crimson eyes that stared through her, the gentle curvature of rosy lips, the strands of golden hair that perfectly framed Her features. She had heard many times in stories from her youth, that Fae were so different from humans, the latter could never compare. And to this she had to agree; for she had seen no human who could match the beauty of the One in front of her.
“Sancho”
“Hm?”
“Will there ever be a day when we can meet under better circumstances?”
The Fae’s gaze lowered. A hand travelled to brush the young woman’s cheek, cupping it.
“I wish for nothing more” She confessed, Her pale face blossoming into a pink hue. “But I…am afraid”
They had had this conversation before. Many times, more than the youth could count. And every time, Sancho’s reply reminded her of the world that could not always be brushed aside; a village like Calw would have deemed the union unheard of, scandalous. Even more considering the young woman’s own burdens with her identity, and the fact that Sancho was more than a simple outsider.
The heir to a promising capital, and the heir of a broken and scorned family. Just thinking about it made her want to laugh.
“I want things to be different” she admitted, letting her selfishness show. Sancho smiled.
“My Father always told me to dream; and dream I shall a little, so that I can hope for a better future”
She hardly mentioned Her Family. Those times brought Her great sadness, the magnitude of which the young woman hoped to never have to experience. The thought of seeing Her sad brought an ache to her chest, and the youth found herself kissing the Fae’s cheek, hoping it could bring Her peace.
“We can build one together” she reassured. “We can figure something out; surely, there has to be a way”
“Ay, we can try” Sancho said. And She seemed sure of the words, rather than stating them out of kindness.
They would make plans some day; allow themselves to more deeply develop the what-ifs and that distant dream. But that would be later on; for now they had other plans. The young woman had plans of her own as well. And every second was precious to her, the ones that had already been wasted running to the meadow did not deserve to die in vain.
The youth pulled away, just barely enough to face her lover, her heart pounding.
“I’ve been thinking of names” she said.
“Is that so?” Sancho’s eyes sparkled, Her voice raised slightly. “Have you made a decision?”
The young woman turned red again, her gaze shifting to a nearby tree.
“I- It’s still a work in progress honestly” she said. “It’s already a hassle, getting everyone to forget my old one…but I thought, since I’m on the meds, that I should start thinking of what I want to be known as”
She did not want to linger on why it had taken her so long to realise that she needed a new name. The uncertainty that had plagued most of her life was still unpleasant to recall, even more so than the looks she received on a daily basis, or the insistent doubt her parents had displayed the day she had approached them with her true self. One day, the youth hoped, one day she might be able to look at her younger self and embrace the scared little boy curled up in the pure white egg; but for now, she wanted to focus on reducing that shell to dust.
Sancho’s fingers ran absent-mindedly through her hair. “What have you been thinking?”
The young woman’s blush deepened as she hid her face into her lover’s hand.
“I thought about…Beatrice. As my name. T- Though it’s not really set in stone”
The Fae’s gaze softened, and in Her eyes the youth saw a kind of love that she only thought to be possible in stories. Euphoria had filled her body even before Sancho brought their lips together, Her kiss as soft as flower petals and Her caress as gentle as the wind.
“For tonight then, you shall be Beatrice” She said, when they parted. “And if the next night you choose something else, that is fine by me. A rose is the same flower no matter the name”
The night was spent as all nights were; the two talked, laughed, danced in the safe space that they had crafted. And in the safety of the dark, away from the rest of the world, they loved each other, and loved without shame or fear. Neverending seconds lasted hours among the grass, away from a world that ignored the existence of such a meeting. But at some point it would have to all end, for time could not bend to the wishes of two secret lovers forever. The youth would fall asleep from fatigue, and the Fae would have to carry her back home, safely tuck her into bed; then She would disappear into the forest, into corners very few knew about. That was how nights like these occurred, how they began and ended. That was how they had been for many months now.
Even so, Beatrice Sinclair and Sancho never thought about the end of the night; when they met the only thing that mattered was each other, and the sweet memories they could make within the time they claimed for themselves. Memories that, even if just a little bit, made the wait until their next meeting feel a little less eternal.