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1. DEX
Sophie didn’t notice it straight away, to busy with the new term at Foxfire and general gratefulness that she wasn’t fucking dead that she simply accepted the pains in her wrists, the sunkness ache of her eyes from sleepless nights, and the way her lungs never seemed to take in enough air like it was normal. The remnants of her kidnapping that still clung to her, even though she was safe. Although - safe was such a nebulous word already.
Was she safe because she was at Havenfield - the same place she was taken from, in the first place? Safe because now she had a body guard - a hulking, stone-skinned goblin who stood outside her bedroom door at night while she tossed and turned, chasing after sleep? Safe because she had a new, strange ability that could hurt the people around her, if she let it?
That wasn’t freedom from danger - it was just another wall that her attackers could scale.
Sophie tried her best to falsify her okay-ness, when she was with her friends or at school, or sitting at the dinner table at Havenfield, as her newly adoptive parents stared at her from across the bowls of slop the gnomes prepared each night.
The avoidance - the constant blocking out of those foggy, drug-hazed memories - turned her daily life into a mine field. She was already overwhelmed with pretending to be normal - to really understand what had happened to her.
Dex, for his part, seemed fine. He mopped around school like always, growling at Fitz and gossiping with Marella. Sophie watched him, enviously, as he smiled in the cafeteria, laughing at something Jensi had said. She didn’t know how much he remembered - how many drugs they had given him, in comparison. If he remembered how they were (another mystery. Not The Black Swan, she knew now, but that didn’t make her feel any safer) spoke about him like he was nothing. How they planned to kill him, while they extracted information from her. Maybe he was totally fine - maybe she was just overreacting, again.
She sort of wanted to ask him, but any time the kidnapping was brought up, everyone started acting strange - wouldn’t look at her, quickly changing the subject - so she kept quiet. Kept waking up in the middle of the night in a panic, kept feeling phantom binding on her wrists, kept coughing until her throat ached after sword practice.
In the end, Dex brought it up. It wasn’t some big moment of revelation, just a spare sentence while they changed for combat training, as he was tightening the straps of his chestplate.
“Man,” he growled, fiddling with the bronze clasp. “Can you get this for me? I just can’t lift my arms right after… you know.”
Sophie blinked at him, mouth half open in shock. If Dex noticed something odd, he didn’t comment on it - perhaps her general zombie-like demeanor from lack of sleep made such behavior expected. Quickly, Sophie recovered, scrambling to finish tying her scabbard to her waist and crossing the few steps in the locker room to him. She pushed his fingers away, and pulled the clasp tight, folding the end into itself like Dex had taught her.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, testing the security with a tug on the leather plate. When everything held fast, he gave her a clumsy grin.
“No problem.” She answered, and rocked on her feet. Then: “where does it hurt?” she wondered.
Dex raised his arm and pointed to the opposing shoulder, “the joint here. They threw me, where they were keeping us, really hard, I think. It hasn’t been quite right since.” he shrugged.
Sophie felt a stab of guilt. If he hadn’t been with her, trying to comfort her - then he would’ve been perfectly fine. It was her fault that Dex was pulled into this mess with the Black Swan and…whoever their real kidnappers were.
Dex seemed to read the look on her face, "Hey," he said, carefully. “It’s not your fault, it’s those bastards.”
“It’s not fair that you got hurt too, they were only after me,” she replied. Embarrassingly, she felt her face heat with the prick with tears. The water made her already tired eyes burn.
Dex reached up and wiped away an escaping tear, rubbing his thumb over her cheek, “it’s not fair that they were after you, at all. None of this is our fault, Sophie. And you saved me - you could have left me there and escaped yourself. It probably would have been easier, without my dead weight.”
Sophie looked at him in horror, “I would never do that.” she vowed. He laughed, wetly, a sad smile creasing his face.
“I know,” Dex said, pulling her in for a hug. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his shoulder and not caring about the hard leather armor there.
After a moment, she pulled back, “have you gone to Elwin?” she asked.
Dex shook his head, “I mentioned it back when we were in the hospital, but it’s apparently just torn…something or other. Nothing to be done but wait, and I didn’t want to draw attention to everything by taking the time off.”
“If you need to take breaks for your health then you should!” Sophie lectured. Dex leveled her with a knowing gaze.
“And I’m sure you’ve told Elwin about the pain in your wrists?” he questioned.
Sophie stopped short, staring at him. She rubbed her face free of tears, reaching up to tear out an eyelash or two, “how do you even know about that?” she asked.
“I see you rubbing them after we have written exams. Mine hurt too, for a while after.” he admitted, “you were still out, but they were all scabby and gross for the first week-ish.” Sophie felt another wave of guilt rise up and Dex pushed her shoulder gently, “as the humans’ say ‘come off it’, Sophie, if you’ll remember, the only reason you weren’t awake to deal with my complaining is because you almost faded away saving me.”
She sighed, “I just…I wish I could’ve done more.”
“And I wish that I wasn’t a ginger, we all have things we regret, Soph.”
She laughed at that, and Dex grinned like won the lottery.
“I didn’t realize that you…were affected too.” she said slowly, “I mean, obviously, I knew it wasn’t easier on you than it was for me, but you always seemed so okay, during class and stuff. I don’t know how you keep it together.”
Dex shrugged, “honestly, I’ve just been trying my best to keep going. The nightmares were so bad, I've had to start stealing my mum’s sleeping droughts, which is probably not the greatest coping mechanism in the book, but…”
“It’s better than waking up screaming,” she finished with an understanding nod.
“Yeah.” Dex laughed. “Oh stars, we’re so late for class, aren’t we?”
“We are, and we look like total messes.” Sophie agreed, sniffling.
Dex reached to grab his sword, still sheathed in its scabbard. He didn’t take the time to tie it, just hosting it over his shoulder, “whelp, if we’re going to be the kidnapped kids no matter what, we mightn't look the part as well, no?”
“What an excellent theory,” she agreed, throwing an arm around his shoulder as they exited the locker room, towards the ring where they practiced their swordplay.
“You know, Sophie,” Dex began, pulling to a stop just out of hearing range from the group. Biana had noticed them and waved, Marella rolling her eyes beside her. “If you ever want to talk about everything. I’m here. I’m here to talk to. I’ve been through it too. And so is everyone else - Marella and Jensi and, ugh, even wonder boy. We’re all here for you.”
2. BIANA
The Vackers, despite the fact that Alden seemed to be in a greater state of badly-concealed-panic than usual, were still acting as the popular socialites that they were - which meant, of course, throwing parties.
Sophie was still expected to attend, with the rest of the noble families. Grady and Edaline’s reintroduction into the nobility of the Lost Cities was going smoother than Sophie had expected. Edaline even seemed to be beginning to enjoy the galas. She would dance inside the Havenfield cottage, her scarves flurrying around her as she twirled. Sophie could tell that seeing his wife so happy was also softening Grady to the whole song and dance, even if he still refused to shave his hermit-like beard.
Sophie, still lacking an actual wardrobe and reluctant to visit Atlantis to go dress shopping, had begun to head home from Foxfire with Biana on these nights, the other girl’s plentiful mass of tulle and crystal, and her mother’s own collection, which Biana raided frequently, replacing her need to go to the tailor.
The air that filtered in through the open French windows in Biana’s chambers was warm, and Sophie lay on the floor beside it, letting the breeze brush her spiky bangs away from her forehead. The spring was gracefully taking the Lost Cities, and Everglen was no different. In fact, the lavender forests that surrounded the manor were beginning to bloom into little purple and silver flowers that painted the view outside the window in shimmering luxury.
The door behind her opened, and Sophie turned to watch Biana flounce into the room. This was the girl who rough-housed with her brother in the mud, not the judgemental queen of Foxfire - and Sophie felt grateful that she got to see the real Biana, in the quiet moments when they were out of the public eye.
More and more, since she stopped hanging with Stina and the other noble girls full time, this more carefree and age appropriate version of her was peaking past the cracks in her mask.
“Oh my days, Sophie! I just had the most fantastic idea.” she squealed. Her arms were full of shimmering fabrics. “Since we’re celebrating the equinox tonight, and everyone is going to be there, including, like…the council, if they can make it. They can normally make it. Last year, even Bronte came for a time. So we have to be like, extra gorgeous, right?” she dropped the fabric at Sophie’s feet. “Mother and I had these fashioned to be matching a year or so ago - we never got to wear them but they’re beautiful. We’ll have to get the gnomes to tailor them a bit, but oh, oh Sophie try this one on, it’s too pretty!” she pointed out the pile of sagebrush-green velvet.
Sophie reached for it, picking up the dress and holding it up to see it fully, the skirt was ample and layered like the petals of a rose, dotted with small gold flowers that cascaded down from the waistline. Biana handed her a simple, thin-boned bodice that was woven from the same golden thread.
It was sleeveless, Sophie realized. In the winter she had been able to get away with long sleeve dresses without question, even if she sometimes ended the night a little sweaty.
“What?” Biana said, “what’s wrong with it?”
Sophie bit her lip, “it’s not - it’s a beautiful dress, Bia.” It really was - the velvet was impossibly plush, and the colors faded into each other like a freshly blooming forest at sunset. “Do you have anything that’s a little more…modest?” she asked, carefully, feeling awful.
Biana stared at her, “I mean,” the girl said, she was blushing, Sophie realized, and she felt worse. She didn’t mean to make Biana feel any sort of shame, “I don’t think that’s really, revealing, is it?”
Sophie set the dress down, pedantically plucking out an eyelash. She sighed. Biana was probably one of her best friends, definitely her closest female friend. Maybe she would understand.
She pulled up the sleeve of her Foxfire uniform, hiking the white fabric up past her elbow.
And there - standing out against her California tan, was a series of shiny, red-ish purple scars.
Biana gasped, a full on, hand over mouth sound of astonishment. She leaned forward to get a better look at the marks, and Sophie obligingly twisted her arm so she could get the full experience.
“It almost looks like…a hand print?” she murmured.
Sophie sighed, “it is, I think, the…the people who took me and Dex. One of them had really hot hands - he grabbed me when I didn’t answer his questions.” She shook her head, “it didn’t actually hurt that badly, I was pretty out of it at the time, but…they’re so ugly.”
Her voice had started out strong but dwindled down to a whisper as she finished, "I don't want anyone to see them and think I’m some freak.”
Biana tilted her head, and her brown curls fell over her shoulders, “I don’t think they make you look like a freak,” she said slowly, “I think they prove that you’re brave, braver than any of the stupid, rich elves who spent their time throwing parties and gossiping about stupid stuff instead of trying to stop bad things from happening.” she tightened her jaw, righteously, "I don't think that you should be ashamed of your scars. I think the elves in charge should be ashamed that they failed you.”
Sophie blinked at her, in shock, before Biana added, “plus, they’re sort of shiny, which is like, actually really chic.”
Sophie laughed dutifully. She picked up the dress again, trying to see herself in it, laughing with the rest of her friends in the Vacker’s gardens.
“How does yours match?” she asked.
Biana grinned, and shook her out. Biana’s was a deep blue, and beaded with white crystals. Instead of flowers, she had crisp looking silver leaves tumbling down the full skirt, and the velvet pulled down her shoulders in loose waves. It was a very Biana dress.
“We don’t have to wear them, if you don’t want to. There are lots of spring dresses in our collection.”
“No, I- I want to.” Sophie said. Her voice trembled slightly, but it felt like progress. She didn’t want to live in the shadow of her kidnapping. She was still a normal girl, even if she had bad shit happen to her.
Hours later, when the sunset behind the lavender wood and the glowy lanterns that lined the gardens were lit, casting everything in an amber glow. Sophie and Biana descended the staircase, twins of winter and spring - it was the equinox after all. Biana had done something with her hair, and it now swooped behind her in some sort of feathery bun. She had painted her eyes with gold to match the flowers, and her lips were ruby red. She was embarrassed by the frivolity of it all, and couldn’t imagine her old mortal classmates seeing her now, in a beautiful dress, surrounded by shimmering people.
Of course her make up and updo was still relatively conservative compared to other elves, Biana included, who had somehow stuck actual diamonds to her face.
They found Fitz and Keefe chatting in the garden, both double fisting glasses of champagne, and gladly handing one each over to the girls.
Keefe blinked at Sophie’s arm, the first to notice. She frowned, and forced herself to not cover the scars with her hand. But after a moment, all Keefe did was grin his silly, crooked grin and go, “Badass, Foster. You get more mysterious by the day.”
He looked smug as Fitz stared at him in confusion, and even Sophie laughed as Biana nudged him, gladly joining in on teasing her brother.
“What?” he complained loudly, “you guys are all so weird.”
3. KEEFE
Sophie’s nightmares had never been easy. Never been something she could dismiss and sink back into the covers of sleep after. Sleep, even when it wasn’t chasing her with memories, was never easy. Insomnia, she guessed it was called, but she wasn’t sure if elves even had a word for it.
The worst part of the whole situation, she thought, was the periods between sleep and waking, when she wasn’t so sure if she was still in a dream or not. That was the scariest time of the day - when anything could happen.
With all of that, she didn’t get much sleep, and her body's frustrating way of coping was apparently to crash. More like Crash, capital ‘C’, her brain forcibly shutting down and sending her into dark nothingness for several hours every few days.
Normally, these periods passed with little incident, and she could reset the clock to another several days of exhaustion.
This time - one insignificant day in the warm months, the humidity in the air sending her to her bed as she felt her vision bloating out - was different.
She wasn’t sure what had happened that sent her into such a craze when she opened her eyes. All she knew, in those first moments, was that it was a sunny afternoon when she laid down, and now it was black as pitch. For a heart thundering moment, she was certain that she was back in the black rooms of her kidnappers, certain someone would come to grab her any moment and tug her out for questioning. Her scars burned with the memory of hands.
She fumbled for her candle, which had burned down to the wick, and struck a match to relight it. Her fingers trembled against the heat of the flame.
Once her candle was lit, she raised it above her head, watching the light throw long shadows across her room. The soft curvature of her furniture seemed to suddenly turn sharp, threatening.
“S-Sandor?” she called into the open air, desperately trying to tell herself that the flickering in the corner of her eye was just from the uneven flame, and not a hidden assailant.
She tried a second time; “Sandor!” but the silence hung just as empty after she was finished.
Spurned by fear, she pushed her way out of bed, and slowly eased the door to her bedroom open, praying she’d find her bodyguard asleep in the corridor.
Instead, she was met with more blackness, as the shadows of the hall opened up in front of her. She hurried out of her room and towards Edaline and Grady’s room. She carried the candle in front of her as she went, her nightgown spiraling out behind her. She wasn’t exactly close with her adoptive parents, but as long as they were there, in their rooms, asleep as usual, then she could relax. Everything will be fine, she told herself. They probably know where Sandor went, too, she considered.
But, when she finally got to their room, she found the door thrown open, the sheets of their bed a mess, as if they had to get up in a hurry.
Her panic flared again.
In this strange new world that she had woken up to, she seemed to be the only person left. How could this be? Her mind reached out, flailing loosely in cool, mental space, trying to find the minds of her friends - of anyone.
There was a long, helpless minute as she breathed rapidly, failing time and time again to find footing in the familiar space of Fitz’s and Dex’s heads. Asleep, she tried to convince herself, they were just asleep. Before, suddenly, she fell into something warm and heavy.
Help. she thought.
And someone answered.
What the- Foster? The place she had ended up, wondered.
Sophie blinked, seeing both the dark hallway of Havenfield, where she had curled on the floor in her terror, and the blurry mental space of, apparently, Keefe.
This was not ideal.
She had half a mind to pull away, before he could tease her, but - his mind was warm, and surprisingly bright, his presence so clear through every muddled thought that passed by her like fish in a river.
I had a nightmare, she couldn’t help but admit. She wasn’t even sure that was what happened, now - everything had passed in a discordant fuzz. Sandor and Edaline and Grady are missing.
Are you safe?/ Keefe immediately thought back.
I don’t - I don’t know. She thought, I think so. Her mind wandered back to the moving shadows in her room, trying to remember if they were really as threatening as she had thought at the moment. She blinked. What if it’s the kidnappers, again, and they’ve already taken everyone else?
Well, they haven’t taken me, Keefe said, and trust me, it wouldn’t even be hard - I don’t think my dad would even notice I was gone. His mind spiked, gruesomely, and Sophie flinched.
Sorry, he added, at that. Sophie hadn’t thought that he had an awareness of her presence in his mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder what it felt like, having someone pace through your thoughts like this. She would have to ask Terigan.
Sophie shook her head, your friends would notice, Keefe. She tried to reassure me.
Keefe pushed past her attempt. Do you think something is going wrong on the farm, and that’s why they left? That verminion of yours is always breaking out, isn’t it?
Sophie shuddered, I hate that thing, she mumbled.
Keefe laughed, that’s not very elf-ly, he teased, and for once, Sophie didn’t mind. She rolled her eyes, and picked herself up, teetering on her unsteady feet.
I guess, if they really had come here, and tried to take out Sandor, I would’ve heard something, right? She reasoned, her nervous insides finally beginning to calm.
Probably. I mean, Keefe considered, and Sophie got the strange view of him crafting a joke from the inside out. She blinked as his mind rapidly sorted through a variety of different sentences, finally landing on; even if they hit him with some sort of sleeping dart, he’s not exactly easy to drag away, is he?
Sophie considered, yeah. I guess I was being silly.
Paranoid is the word you’re looking for, Foster, and don’t worry, we all have our moments.
She had made it back to her room, and hesitated on the threshold. Her adrenaline rush was filtering out of her system, and she was beginning to sag with exhaustion once again.
She raised the candle, the spluttering flame was not long for this world, and she got as best look as she could. When each corner proved to be empty, she finally returned to her blankets, although the warmth had been driven out of them in her absence.
So, Keefe thought, and Sophie hadn’t even realized that she was still hanging on to his mind.
Oh, sorry, yeah? She responded.
Why did you reach out to me? I mean, I can’t have been your first choice.
She flushed, and was glad he couldn’t see her. Honestly, I think everyone else is asleep, she answered.
Keefe’s mind fluctuated, unintelligibly, for a moment, oh, yeah. Well, I’m basically always awake this late, if you ever need to prove that you’re not alone in the world, again.
He paused and seemed to fumble with his thoughts, or if you ever just want to like, talk. He added.
Sophie blinked in shock, oh, yeah, thanks Keefe. She said, awkwardly.
Yeah, it’s nothing. Uh, you should sleep now. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?
See you, Sophie said, before pulling away, her consciousness sloshing back into her mind. The space felt lonesome and barren in comparison.
She rolled over, knowing she wouldn’t be getting much sleep before nightmares surely woke her up again - but, for once, willing to hope.