Private Tales The Brothers Grimm

[Midir]

Midir sunk into the armchair by the roaring fire with the sigh of a man troubled by his weary bones. It had only been a day since the Wild Hunt and the height of the Autumn Courts power and the echo of it still vibrated through his bones. There were magicks he could do, if pressed, right now that would fuel the stuff of mortal legends and fae fears for centuries to come. It made him a danger. Not only to his enemies, but to his people and more importantly himself. The Hunt allowed him to let some of that power out but not enough. Not nearly enough. It had been a harsh lesson to learn when he had taken the throne that power came with a far greater cost than one could imagine. Daily he grappled with it but around this time of year the fight was one for survival and every year he grew a little less sure that he would win.

A log spat and hissed as a flame split it in two and drew him from his melancholy thoughts. Dwelling on it had never helped before and he doubted it would do so now either. Instead he focused on the things he could change and control like ridding the ache in his muscles with a bath. He rang a bell and in short order four maids filled in; a sprite, a pixie, a puca and a nymph. They curtsied low in a sweep of burnt orange linen then hurried to the bathing chamber to fill his bath. He barely gave them a glance though his mind ran through a joke he had once heard in a dining hall an Age ago before a crown had bent his back beneath its weight. Something about a pixie walking into a bar...

"The bath is ready, Your Highness," the nymph murmured. How long had he been sat staring into the flames chasing the memory of that joke? He waved her away and she filled the others out hastily. Interesting, he thought to himself as he stood. Nymphs in the general order stood lower than a puca and a pixie. She must have been good at her work to be the one the others followed. He collected a bottle of red and a glass and took them with him to the bath. The tub itself was a large ornate thing with gilded griffon feet and long enough to fit too tall fae comfortably. Midir eased himself into it with a thankful sigh. There were some things in life that even Magick couldn't solve better than a bath and a glass of red. He couldn't have been in it for more than five minutes before there was a loud rap at the antechamber.

"Go away," he muttered then with magick amplified his voice and said. "I am not to be disturbed."

 

[Asemir]

I aM NoT to bE DiSTurbEd.

Ugh. Midir was in one of his moods again.

BANG.

Asemir hefted a fist one last time against the door and heaved a heavy sigh, his forehead followed suite, landing somewhere at the center.

"It's Ase," he announced, as if that were the secret password to getting his way in the Autumn Court, "I need to talk with you." A glance down to the bottle in his hand reminded him his brother liked to be plied, "I brought Seurral Red."

One of the good vintages.

 

[Midir]

Midir sunk into the bath until the water came up to his chin. Blood and ashes. Blood and bloody ashes. The world would be a much simpler place if there was no such thing as family.

"Go away," this time he did let the words boom outside the large engraved oak doors that kept unwanted guests and courtiers out of his own private bit of the palace. There were no other spaces where he could be alone and he struggled having that time here too. At least now most had come to realise closed doors meant keep away. Everyone it seemed except his son and his brother.

The wine was tempt... No.

"Leave."

 

[Asemir]

"Nope."

BAM!

The entryway door blew in on its hinges and aggressively smashed against the wall. Somewhere further inside a painting fell off its hanger and clattered against a decorative stand out of sheer fright.

"Mm," Asemir furrowed his brows, "I give you the option every time, brother..."

This was not the first time he'd broken down this door, nor would it likely be the last. Honestly, he was surprised it hadn't been reinforced or that Midir hadn't employed someone skilled in wards to keep him out. It was like he secretly wanted the attention. Well, the Erlking's secret was safe with him.

He closed the door behind him and strode in from his heels to look about, spying an open chamber bereft of his brother. No matter. He was here. Somewhere. Asemir headed for the study where he knew there to be a cabinet of Midir's choice drink and glasses. He hadn't been intending to share the Seurral Red and indeed he would not until prompted to do so. Maybe not even then. Just for the sass. Finding the cabinet he withdrew a crystalline glass and promptly poured it full.

"You left the festival early," Asemir's voice intoned, carrying easily through the open spaces, "very early."

 

[Midir]

Midir pinched the bridge of his nose and suppressed a sigh as he heard wood shatter followed by the sounds of his brother marching through his rooms. He sunk a little further into the water so it rose up to his nose and debated how long it might take him to drown in it. With the amount of power still pumping through his body not quickly enough to avoid the conversation he had assumed was coming.

Stay away from her, brother. It wouldn't be the first time Asemir had given him that warning and he doubted it would be the last but on this occasion he was affronted by it for the simple fact he had left her alone. He was about to cut him to the chase and avoid the whole back and forth by suggesting he go and tell her to leave him alone when Ase took a different tract altogether.

"I was tired," the voice was everywhere and nowhere at the same time giving no helpful clues as to where he physically was in the five rooms that made up his own private suite. It wasn't a lie, fae couldn't lie, but it wasn't the whole truth of the matter. "You looked as if you were enjoying yourself with a few pretty little things fluttering about you."

 

[Asemir]

He was, momentarily, perfectly content to wallow in the aroma of the vintage in his glass. It smelled of distant fertile estates on the foothills of the Seurall mountains. White snowcaps topping peaks over lush valley forests and verdant sweeps of rolling hills speckled by the deep reds of vineyard rows ripe with bounty. It was like going back in time several thousand years to when things had been simpler. Happier. Better.

"I was tired."

Asemir paid no heed to the disembodied voice presently echoing throughout the chambers. Midir was dramatic at times, that was his M.O.

"It only gets worse from here on out," he remarked absently as he lifted the glass to peer at the crimson contents, backlit and illuninated by the fireplace. It resembled turning blood, "have you considered retirement?"

He could recall those nights returning from the Hunt, sore and exhausted and covered in the blood of the slain. Every year seemed to take a greater toll on him, though he had lost his lust for the hunt after the first two thousand years.

"It's the year for lost souls to make their returns, apparently. First Dianthe and now Ceilidh has come out of grieving. Do you remember her? Traynor's wife. Lovely as the day I met her." He sipped, savored, and turned on his heel to begin a leisurely stroll toward the other end of the study where he promptly and gracelessly flopped back into an overstuffed armchair that was slightly too small to be as comfortable as he needed it to be. Midir's favorite brooding chair, of course.

"Speaking of pretty little things, how did Dianthe fair? I'm afraid I underestimated how quickly the drink would go to her head..."

 

[Midir]

It only gets worse...

Almost as if the tainted power within him had heard it suddenly surged in an attempt to seize control. The fire roared in the hearth before which sat his tub as the magick just faintly brushed the world around it. Midir seized it in an iron grip and forced it back down where it simmered and swirled. He would have to find an outlet for it soon, perhaps another visit to the Mortal realm. It had been a while...

"You know the Erlking never retires," Midir replied blandly and then downed the rest of his own glass of wine to soothe his ruffled nerves. "I suppose I could goad Lorcán into driving a blade through my heart sooner than I was planning. He seemed pretty close to it the other night," he snorted. As much as berated his son the power he saw building in him placed him as one of the forerunners for heir. Whether he wanted it or not his power might make the decision for him as it had once upon a time for Midir.

Bath thoroughly ruined by the question of Dia and with the water not yet cold the Erlking gave a vexed noise and climbed out. He emerged into his study wrapped in a deep red wool gown rubbing a towel through his wet locks.

"Did you speak to her?" he countered, ignoring the obvious intent of the question. With his favourite chair occupied he settled into the one opposite and filled his own goblet. "Or is that why you are here? To give me the talk?"

 

[Asemir]

He felt that rush like he felt the changing of the winds. Having known his brother for as long as he had, having fought alongside him in Hunts across the ages, the familiarity with his dark powers was nearly intimate. Asemir's brow lowered as his brother struggled to contain the surge, a deep and pensive hmm rumbling in his chest as some sense of solidarity for him.

It wasn't a struggle he dealt with. Not anymore and not in the same way, at least. His struggles were of a different nature.

"He's not ready," Asemir replied as he sunk a bit further into the chair, "he needs at least another few centuries of daddy-damages to work up to a good, solid stabbing." His free hand lifted into a fisted gesture, oscillating back and forth to drive home the intent, "Has to really mean it."

A swing and a miss would only beget more problems than it solved. Plus Asemir would likely be the one left to clean up the mess and he didn't even like cleaning up his own messes. He sipped deeply. Sipped some more. Sipped until his glass was empty. His hand reached for the bottle only to grasp air, so his eyes looked over to determine its new whereabouts and found it in the hand of his brother. So much for not sharing.

"To Dia? No, not yet. That's my next stop." His hand waffled around in the air a bit, attempting to figure out what to do in the absence of wine, and settled on smearing the prior evening's complications around on his expression, "I assumed she would be somewhere around Autum but I couldn't find her."

Clink clink clink. He tapped the base of the wine glass against the wooden grip of the chair, "Did something happen? Do I need to give you the talk?"

 

[Midir]

Midir grunted as he set the glass decanter back down on the small table that sat between them and raised the goblet to his lips for a sip. Asemir was right about his son. Lorcán didn't truly mean it. Not yet and that would be vital to the control he had over the powers that came with the crown. If he hesitated or regretted or harboured any doubt about the murder of his father it would never sit comfortably with him. He had thought that killing his mortal lover would be enough and oh it had born hate but enough to drive a dagger through his heart with meaning? Perhaps the red-head would need to be used...

His thoughts abruptly ended when Asemir brought the topic back around to Dia and this time his sip was more of a gulp and he grimaced.

"I think you need to have the talk with her. She was... more forward than I thought from someone you claim has just left seclusion," his brows climbed into his damp hairline in a meaningful manner. "I know what they think of me but I do value loyalty in my Court, Asemir and if she is just after my bed loyalty will not be born from it."

 

[Asemir]

"I think you need to have the talk with her. She was... more forward than I thought from someone you claim has just left seclusion,"

Asemir gave his brother a look as though he had told him Dianthe had kicked a puppy, "What? No..."

"I know what they think of me but I do value loyalty in my Court, Asemir and if she is just after my bed loyalty will not be born from it."

He lifted his own brows, sat up and leaned forward to claim the decanter on the table, and very slowly filled his glass again, "We're not talking about the same Dianthe. Little Dia. That woman is mild and shy as a fawn," but when his gaze flicked up beneath his brow, the curl of his smile vanished at the continued deadpanned countenance he found gazing back at him. Well, fae couldn't lie, so...

"Mm."

Clank, the decanter settled on the table, notably less full.

Furrowing his brow again, Asemir drowned his need to say anything at all for several seconds with a drawn out, noisy sip.

Midir was still glowering.

"I'm sorry," a vague gesture was made at him, "that was not what I had expected when I introduced her to you, of course. Dianthe is a harmless lightweight, but she was a good friend of mine back when I had very few people I could actually call friend." The Summer Court was not known for its sincerity. "I will talk to her. She's staying at Dusk while I show her around until she decides where to make her new home. Don't-" Asemir pointed a finger in the general direction of his brother and shook it, "don't judge her too poorly. It was her first night back in society, she was probably overwhelmed. You know I stick my neck out for very few people."

 

[Midir]

Now it was Asemir's chance to get nothing but a 'hmm' in response.

Truthfully he had not and would not judge his brothers friend harshly for her actions. Dianthe wouldn't be the first nor the last woman to offer what she had whether it was with words, a look, or a brush across the shoulders. Fae were naturally promiscuous creatures and many would argue that what Dia had done was perfectly within the reasonable bounds of their nature. It had been he who had over-reacted to the offer instead of brushing it aside with more care and tact - a fact he was still annoyed with himself about.

The fire filled the silence with the pleasant crack and pop of dying logs. The wine warmed him from the inside and Midir thought that if he just closed his eyes he might even be able to sleep for a few hours. But something troubled him still.

"Why are you here, brother?" he looked down at his glass as the liquid swirled about. "It's not that I don't enjoy your presence but you usually only come barging in like this when you're avoiding something."

 

[Asemir]

The hmm's ran in the family. Asemir had determined this to be true after a chance encounter with his father a couple millennia ago. Alongside the long white hair, chiseled jaw, and white stag animal form, the hmm was likely the least noticeable until you really got to know all three of them. But Veremir wasn't know for his public appearances anymore. Preferred a life of laying low in the mortal realm, away from all the fae bullshit, or so he said.

Briefly, fleetingly, Ase wondered if their father still lived yet.

He ran his hand over his face again, glancing shortly at his perceptive-as-ever brother, and let his hand settle over his mouth, gripping his chin in deliberation. To tell or not to tell. He felt the need to tell someone, but it had to be someone that wasn't his mother and most certainly wasn't Mab. Someone who could maybe talk some sense into him.

What were you thinking Ase? You slept with your late best friend's widow? The fuck is wrong with you?

Surely Midir would be that person.

"I slept with Ceilidh last night."

Words uttered so low, and muffled by his hand, it would be a miracle if Midir understood them.

 

[Midir]

When Midir was in one of his moods he was loud and bolshie with the intent to scare people away so they left him alone. Asemir couldn't have been more different. Quiet and contemplative he seemed to fold in on himself until whatever was on his mind ate him from the inside out. The poor bastard who he chose to offload to then had to pry it out of him like trying a claw from a sabre-toothed jackrel. It never went well when they were both having "one of those days".

Midir sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the tension of the headache already building up behind his eyes.

"Asemir I cannot help if I cannot understand a word you're saying. Here," he stood up and marched over to the cabinet where his alcohol was stashed. From there he took a decanter off the top shelf and poured a generous amount into two stout glasses. "Down this and spit your words out," he growled and shoved the drink towards his brothers face.

 

[Asemir]

Asemir's eyes rolled to watch his brother, the hand remaining on his face as if it might help maintain some form of innocence before the Erlking. What a fucking farce that was. Having a glass of vintage in one hand already forced the man to give up the the hand-mask for the new glass. He sniffed it and his eyebrows immediately shot up. So that's where Midir hid the hard liquor.

A sip. He gently cleared his throat and swallowed.

"I-" the world belted out of his mouth far more loudly than expected and he sucked in air in mild alarm, "oh - that's good. What is this?" But he was getting off-track, "I, mm, slept with Ceilidh last night."

 

[Midir]

Midir stared and then, shaking himself, tipped his glass back and downed its contents.

"Fuck."

He didn't know in detail the complexities of his relationship with Mab and her courtiers but he knew enough to know that what he had done would complicate things. Especially with the woman he knew his brother still loved, even if neither of them seemed willing to admit it openly. He poured himself another measure and sat back down heavily in his chair, setting the decanter between them.

"No offence, brother, but that was really fucking stupid."

 

[Asemir]

"Was it though?" Asemir made a face of strained hope, seething air through his teeth in a grimace as if there were something that could excuse him of his stupidity.

"It didn't ... mean anything. We were drunk, we got dinner, Cece jumped me, we had sex," he gesticulated for each point, then sighed and rubbed at his brow with the knuckle of his thumb, glass still in hand, "a lot of sex. The woman just returned to society and she was ravenous."

"I feel like I've done something wrong. I can't shake it. I haven't done anything wrong. It was just sex. Between two free fae. But why can't I help but agree with you. It's driving me mad!"

 

[Midir]

Because you slept with the best friend of the woman you're in love with.

Midir sipped his freshly poured drink and hoped Asemir had learnt to read minds so that he didn't have to say it out loud. His brother wasn't dumb but in this case he was certainly trying to fool himself in order to keep himself from admitting the crux of the problem here. Of course, admitting that would mean having to admit he still had feelings for the Winter Queen too and that wasn't going to happen for another few centuries by his estimate. So he went for a different tact.

"Perhaps it is because it was meaningless," he offered the more palpable suggestion and swirled the liquor about in his glass. "You care for this woman, and yet her first foray after a self exile in the wake of her grief and you jump into bed with her. It's going to dredge up a lot of confusing feelings for her. For An’Ruen's Sake Asemir, you could have said no. No means no. Even a wildling would accept that."

 

[Asemir]

Asemir had, in fact, tried to learn how to read minds several millennia ago. It hadn't gone well.

Many might have assumed it impossible to sink even deeper into his chair; Asemir endeavored to prove them all wrong by doing just that. The lower his shoulders drifted into the back, the lower the corners of his lips drooped. Midir had a point, a good point to boot, but he was feeling stubborn and poorly and suddenly he hated everyone and everything.

"You try saying no to Cece," his rebuttal was little more than a grumble before he awkwardly tried to sip from his glass again. He may have dribbled some.

But, of course, he could have said no, he just hadn't wanted to.

"I am lonely, brother. I hadn't the strength or desire to say no," the glass of wine found itself deposited on the stand between the chairs so that he had a hand free to rub at his eyes, "and I am remorseful and regretful for not having gone to her after Traynor's death. I thought she hated me for leaving Mab - I didn't think she wanted to see me. I find myself proven spectacularly wrong and I feel a fool."

 

[Midir]

Midir snorted.

Asemir sounded like a petulant child and if he hadn't spared any time on his own son when he had been in one of these moods then there was very little hope for the Erlkings brother. Instead he merely sipped and judged in that quiet manner brothers had. It was all in the eyes.

"You are a fool," he said in agreement then lifted the decanter to pour another two fingers into Asemir's empty glass. He wasn't sure he should be the one giving his older brother woman advice with his own history but he had said no to Dia and he planned on enjoying that moral high ground for at least a day.

"If you are lonely why don't you go back instead of playing at peace with Dusk?" his eyebrows raised. "It doesn't suit you."

 

[Asemir]

Asemir scowled, brow furrowing as he looked over at Midir, "And what does suit me, brother? Being used as a disposable tool in someone else's war? I did that - for ten thousand years, Midir. No. I will take my retirement and my peace and have cross words with anyone who thinks I don't deserve either of them."

 

[Midir]

Midir sighed and set his glass down rather firmly.

"You know that is not at all what I meant."

His brother had perhaps been one of the more supporting - certainly understanding - people when Asemir had announced his retirement. An’Ruen above knew that it was something the Erlking wished he would ever get the chance to do himself. His fate was death and he had grown to accept it over the centuries and it made it all the more sweeter when he saw those he cared for get a chance to do what he could not. That was the Balance.

"You did not retire for the right reasons and that is why it sits so uncomfortably on your shoulders, but that is not the point. You can be in retirement but still live in the Winter Court. You can not be lonely."

 

[Asemir]

Asemir's frown deepened but his scowl abated. He could not stay cross with Midir for various reasons, the man being his only acceptable family to turn to in any time of need notwithstanding.

"You're wrong," he sniffed quietly, eyes shifting down to the tumbler in his hand, "I retired for exactly the right reasons. I just... should have done it sooner." Then, maybe, there wouldn't have been the opportunity for Mab to push him over his edge. Push him away. Maybe he could have lived with those other things that bothered him so incessantly. Maybe not. Asemir did not like to live in a world of maybes or what ifs.

He absently turned the tumbler on the armrest of the chair within his hand, "I like the life I have made for myself at Kor Aren. It is the only life that has ever truly been my own..." Which meant his loneliness was also of his own making, but he already knew that.

A heavy, deep sigh filtered from his lungs and he lifted his free hand to wipe over his face once more. These talks with his brother were always so muddying. Midir had a penchant for needling at things that didn't need needling, but he knew he meant well.

"I delivered the Winter Futures last week. I ... made peace with her," his eyes narrowed, strained emotion forming lines at their corners, "met her daughter."

 

[Midir]

Midir begun to eye up the drink again. When he had seen Mab that night at the Winter Yule celebrations with the blossoming curve of her pregnant belly he had known it would mean only further heartache for his brother. Asemir would have - still would - make an excellent father when the time came but he knew that was little comfort for the present.

"Ruosin," he nodded slowly. The girl must be around five... six now? Still an infant. And with Mab raising her hell only knew what she was truly like. "That is... very big of you. To take the first step," now how hard did Midir have to shove him to take the next one? He sighed.

"A family of your own isn't out of the question Asemir. Your self-imposed solitude can end. I know plenty of women who would be happy to walk with you..."

 

[Asemir]

Yes, Ruosin. Asemir drummed his fingers along the hollow of his cheek, stretching his jaw down with his hand to keep from saying the many, many things currently flooding his thoughts, including his suspicions about who the father was. He hadn't asked, Mab hadn't said, but he'd be fucking blind if that little girl's green eyes hadn't been ripped straight from Fang Xei's pretty skull.

Of course, Fang wasn't the only duannan with noble blood and green eyes, and several thousand years had passed since he'd left Winter Court. Mab could have made new friends (unlikely) or someone else from another court of high standing may have made themselves comfortable in her bed (unwise).

"Mmm," he said in response to his brother after shutting his jaw with a clack of his teeth. The tumbler found his lips again for another sip and he took a moment to adjust himself in the chair so he wasn't quite so slumped over, "you and my mother both. The Dowager Queen Lirienn of Summer has decided to grace my home at Kor Aren with her presence for an extended stay. I'm not yet sure if she's endeavoring to marry me off or kill me off, though the latter would be preferable I think considering her taste in courtiers."

 

[Midir]

His brothers dry tone only added to the hilarity of the story and Midir threw back his head and laughed. Not for the first time he was thankful his mother had chosen a self exile, her powers growing to the point the Mind Mists had begun to set in. Rather than in a fit of passion destroy her sons home and Court she had taken herself off to Sleep. If she had been awake now he would wager she would be much like Asemir's mother was.

"For what it's worth I don't intent to do either brother," he said once he finally had his good humours under control and shook his head to cast the lingering amusement from his mind. "But your choices are quite simple really. You either go back to her, or you move on. Maybe... not with her best friend if you claim to want peace but perhaps it is time to actually look at other women without them having to sit on your face first."

Midir picked up his glass and sipped.