Fae Courts Echoes of the Elderglen

[Asher]

The world beneath the water was silent, muted by the barrier of cool liquid that wrapped around him like a shroud. For a moment, Ash allowed himself to simply drift, feeling the gentle embrace of the lake as it dulled the chaos in his mind. He closed his eyes and let the weightlessness hold him, the current lapping softly at his skin. But then a noise broke through—the unmistakable thud of metal striking earth, accompanied by the faint rustle of disturbed leaves.

Ash's eyes snapped open beneath the water, his senses sharpening like a blade. Instinct took over, and he surged upward, breaking through the surface in a rush of water and moonlight. His breaths came heavy, chest rising and falling as he scanned the shadows of the forest edge, droplets running in rivulets down his rune-marked skin.

Every muscle in his body tensed, coiled with the sudden shift from calm to alertness. His eyes, sharp and probing, darted across the darkened treeline, searching for the source of the sound. A dagger gleamed dully where it lay in the dirt, its hilt catching the pale light. His jaw tightened; someone was watching him.

“Brave of you to sneak up on a male when he's bathing,” he called out, voice low, resonant, and laced with sarcasm, masking the hint of unease that crept along the edges of his mind. He took a cautious step toward the edge of the water, the tension in his stance unyielding.

“Who’s there?” The challenge in his tone was unmistakable, but underneath, there was something more—a flicker of recognition, an inkling that tugged at the back of his mind. He glanced around, eyes narrowing as he noticed the shadows shifting in the canopy above, leaves trembling ever so slightly.

The forest held its breath, waiting.

And then he saw it: a flash of blonde hair, the sheen of skin amidst the leaves. His eyes met hers, even from that distance, and the realisation hit him like a punch to the gut. Vespera.

Her face was flushed, eyes wide with something between panic and embarrassment. Ash’s stern expression faltered, a mixture of surprise and something else passing over his features.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, arching a brow. There was no malice in his voice, only a dry humor that belied the thundering of his own heart.

This moment—waist deep in the lake, naked, vulnerable, exposed in the moonlight, while she lay perched above him, an unexpected audience—left a strange heat crawling up his own neck, an unsettling dance between indignation and curiosity.

 

[Vespera]

Vespera held her breath, trying to shrink into the tree she was perched on, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. Her dagger caught the moonlight, glinting up at her- a mockery after the soft thud of it's landing shattered the peaceful silence.

She could only move so far before freezing completely, watching Asher as he broke the water's surface. His gaze swept through the grasses and trees, pointed fae ears twitching while he searched for the intruder. She dug her fingers harder into the branch, the bark biting into her skin.

Please, please, please. She prayed. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn't notice the dagger. Maybe he would assume it was a deer or an owl. As always, it seemed luck was not on her side.

She tried to will away her flushed face and wide, curious eyes, refusing to let him read so clearly that she had maybe been watching him. Again, it was to no avail. Green eyes met her gold and the silence was broken. Enjoying the view?

Yes. NO.

She rolled her eyes, feigning disinterest, and made an attempt to force herself to look relaxed while she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Not much of a view, is it?" She shot back at him, though her voice, taking on a higher pitch, hinted that she had not been prepared for the confrontation. She shifted on the branch, twisting to get a better angle to look down at him without revealing how unsteady she felt. "Nope. Not much of a view at all." She huffed, cursing her mind for tacking on a quiet, It's a shame, isn't it?

 

[Asher]

Asher felt the anger that had churned in his chest begin to ebb, like the tide retreating from the shore. It surprised him how quickly it dissipated, melting into something softer, quieter, as his gaze remained fixed on her. Vespera, perched awkwardly in the tree, her attempts at nonchalance crumbling under his scrutiny, had somehow shifted the weight he’d been carrying all night. The tight coil in his chest loosened with every huffed response she gave, and though he’d come here seeking solitude, the sharp edge of his fury dulled in her presence.

Ash stared up at her, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wiped a hand over his dripping face, the motion slow and deliberate, giving him a moment to compose himself. Her retort—sharp but tinged with that telltale waver—was enough to spark something almost playful in him.

"Not much of a view?" he echoed, his voice low and teasing, the kind that crawled under your skin and settled there. "You’re either lying, Vespera, or you’ve got worse taste than I thought." He gestured loosely to himself, water still trailing down the lines of his body. His confidence was infuriatingly unshaken, though his sharp eyes didn’t miss the faint blush still staining her cheeks.

The corner of his mouth lifted further as he began wading toward the shore, the water lapping at his hips. Lower. "For someone unimpressed, you’re awfully bad at looking away," he added, tossing the remark like a blade aimed to provoke.

Reaching the water’s edge, the moonlight casting a silvery glow on his wet skin, he stooped to pick up his discarded breeches and made no hurry in stepping back into them and fastening them casually.

"You gonna come down," he asked, "or are you planning to sit up there all night pretending you weren’t watching me?"

His tone was light, but beneath the surface was a flicker of curiosity, a genuine interest in what the hell she was doing here, of all places, at this hour. It wasn’t like her to stumble into situations accidentally. And Vespera wasn’t the type to rattle easily, but he could see it—the way her limbs were too stiff, the way her eyes darted to the dagger below. Something had her off-balance.

 

[Vespera]

Beads of water trailed down his chest, captivating Vespera's attention. Why was her mouth watering?

"You're insufferable, Ash." She muttered, eyes betraying her as they flickered over his body before she could stop herself. Gods, why did it have to be him? Why could he not at least have the decency to remain submerged?

Asher Adamou was infuriating. Absolutely, truly delusional.

Was he messing with her head? Glamoring her the way the full blooded fae like to fool humans who wandered too closely? It made sense.

Vespera tried to focus on anything else- grass, her dagger, the tree she was in, her own nails- but she kept going back to him, watching as the water concealed less and less of him.

"Don't flatter yourself." She spat at him, fighting the heat that crept up her neck at the sight of him dressing slowly. Too slowly. Gritting her teeth, she forced her eyes to concentrate on the grass, but the image was already seared into her mind. His sculpted body with intricate tattoos trailing down his side, halting just before his- Damn him, she was looking.

She waited until he spoke again to look at him, his cocky accusation piercing through her haze. "I was here first, just so you know." She snapped at him, her pride at odds with whatever was burning in her chest. "You intruded on my peace and accuse me of watching you, when my attention was only drawn because I heard a noise while alone in a forest at night. Are you truly that insecure?"

Did she mean any of what she said? Not at all.

Her grip tightened on the branch and, with more force than necessary, she swung down and landed on the ground before him. "Or are you just delusional?" She pushed past him in a flurry of irritation, bending down to pick up her dagger. "Don't tell me you're both." Her scrunched, pissed off features shifted to a sly smile that oozed with the words 'I knew it.'

 

[Asher]

Asher had been enjoying the show—her flustered attempts to regain composure, the way her gaze betrayed her even as her sharp tongue lashed out. Gods, she was entertaining when she was mad and radiating irritation that he could practically bask in.

But then, she had to push. She always did.

“Insecure?” The word left his mouth coated in mockery, his amusement unwavering at first. He watched her descend from the tree, her every movement so forcefully controlled that it bordered on theatrical. She bent to grab her dagger, her jab cutting sharper than the blade in her hand could.

That smile. That smug, sly smile, like she could see right through him, tore through the thin veil of his composure.

Asher’s amusement dissolved in an instant, replaced by a sharp, blazing anger that flickered like wildfire in his eyes. His hand shot out toward the hand that held the dagger, seizing her wrist with a force to make his point. His grip was unrelenting, firm enough to make her pause but stopping just short of pain.

“Delusional?” he repeated her insult, his voice low and venomous, each syllable a lash. His anger was palpable, a storm barely contained within his taut frame. His chest rose and fell sharply, beads of water sliding over the ridges of his muscles as he loomed over her. “You think you know me, Vespera? I'm anything but fucking delusional.. My father hates me. My brother fears me. What about you, hm? Both, I think.. I don't blame you."

The moonlight glinted off the edge of her blade, but it was nothing compared to the sharpness in his gaze, piercing and raw. Asher’s grip on her wrist tightened, and before Vespera could react, he yanked her hand upward, the dagger now poised at his throat. The blade pressed lightly against his skin, just enough to draw a whisper of a line, a promise of blood if either moved too quickly. His eyes burned with a wild, unyielding fire as he stared her down, daring her, challenging her.

“Go on,” he growled, his voice low and rough. He shifted the dagger slightly, dragging it down over his chest until the tip hovered over his heart, the steady rise and fall of his breathing making the blade tremble. “Isn’t this what you want? To put me in my place? To prove you’re not afraid of me? It'd make your life easier. My father would probably reward you for it."

His jaw clenched, a faint smirk curling at his lips, though his eyes betrayed something deeper—rage, yes, but also pain, raw and unhidden. “Do it, Vespera. Show me you’re stronger than I am.”

The moonlight caught the dagger’s edge, the sharp glint mirrored in his gaze. His voice softened, dripping with venom. “Or are you just as much of a coward as you think I am?”

The space between them felt suffocating, charged with tension. He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, his chest a steady target beneath the blade. His expression dared her, but his breathing, shallow and uneven, revealed more than his words ever could.

 

[Vespera]

"Ah, yes. That temper. That's the Asher I know." She purred, eyeing how tightly he held her wrist. Her gaze trailed back to him, to the water droplets racing one another down the muscular planes of his chest. She was ready, feeling more confident to continue this game of verbal cat-and-mouse, but his tone changed and she must have shown her curiosity, or the pain she felt when he yanked her arm too quickly, when he pressed the dagger into his flesh.

The muscles in her arm tensed against his hold. She struggled to pull herself free, but he held her firm with the dagger poised right over his heart. She could feel the heat of his breath as he pressed her, taunting her to put him in his place or be a coward. Her own struggles against him pressed the tip in slightly, but enough to draw blood that ran down the blade and into her hand. It would have been so easy to end it all.

"Let me go." She hissed a demand, "I am not afraid of you. I don't hate you." She spoke truthfully. "Let go."

Ash didn't let go, so with a sharp twist that Vespera knew she would feel a thousand times worse the next day, she wrenched her bloodied hand free. "I am not a coward and I do not pity you." The dagger clattered to the ground and Vespera tilted her head upward, locking eyes with him. Two unyielding flames facing one another, one wild and untamed, the other an unassuming wellspring of something deeper. "Don't flatter yourself, Asher."

She stepped backward, putting space between his fury and her calm, and watched his chest heave with his uneven breaths. Her voice softened, but still carried its edge. "You want me to hate you? To fear you?" She shook her head. "You don't scare me, Asher. You're just a male, lost and bleeding in the moonlight because you don't know how to feel anything but hated and feared."

She noticed, for a moment, that his wildness seemed to dim, leaving him vulnerable. But it was gone in an instant. "I am not going to kill you, Asher. That would be too easy."

Vespera turned on her heel, her heart pounding as she turned to retrieve the few belongings she had discarded near a boulder. Tying the cloak around her throat, she turned to him. "Handle your demons on your own. Don't use my hands to hurt yourself."

With those final words, she turned away and began walking back towards their village, her bloody dagger still lying abandoned at his feet.