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sadlittlenerdking · 6 years

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Lifeboat Ch.7

The Magicians

Chapter 7 of 8

Word Count 14.7k of 65k

Summary: this is it, folks. (excluding the epilogue)

Important note: thank you @oneeyeddestroyer for being a beta and for being so kind and amazing and helpful. a hero in our midst.

here we go

“Were you serious about there being a way to tell everyone everything without them remembering later?”

He shouldn’t be surprised that Julia doesn’t even jump when she rounds the corner and he jumps up to talk to her. She just appraises him carefully for a long moment, before nodding. “Yes. Why?”

“I think—I think I have to tell you guys. I don’t. I don’t know how not to. Not anymore.” Maybe he was never supposed to keep it to himself. But after the experiment with the fairy queen, there’s no way he can keep it to himself. Not when so much of fixing everything involves the rest of them.

She furrows her eyebrows at that. “Why? What happened?”

“I talked to the Fairy Queen.”

Blinking, she stares at him for a beat, before nodding slowly. “Okay . . . You go to the living room. I’ll get everyone together.” She purses her lips, pointing a finger at him, “And this time, please don’t run off and go talk to potentially dangerous beings, yeah?”

He smiles morosely, “No promises?”

Another thing that doesn’t surprise him: she doesn’t smile.

“He did what.”

Eliot doesn’t even phrase it as a question, as he looks over Julia’s shoulder at the entryway to glare ominously at Todd. He perfects it by the time Todd’s a teenager, but as it is now; it’s still pretty threatening. And Todd feels himself shrink into the couch further, as he turns away to face the cubby. His gaze drops down to the table, where seven potions sit out. He’s not sure how Julia had time to make them, but he’s not going to question it.

They’re going to forget everything in a few weeks anyways.

That doesn’t help.

Eliot finally rounds into the room, and leans against the bookshelf, too cool—too angry—to sit down, and continues glaring at Todd. If what Jane said is true . . . Then maybe it’s his destiny to help Eliot master his glare before Todd’s even born. So when he’s a teenager, he doesn’t need to work on it at all. Todd’s the master of his undoing.

What the fuck is he even—

“Can we get this shit started already?” Kady says, from her place in the corner of the room.

Penny—not Todd’s Penny, he has to keep reminding himself—pushes away from the wall and moves to sit down on the jean chair. Definitely not Todd’s Penny. He plops down, and glances up at Kady. “Maybe you should get comfortable. You might be less angry.”

She purses her mouth, shooting him a glare, before sighing and moving to one of the couches. “Maybe you should stop talking. Permanently.”

“A lot less intimidating when—“

“Guys,” Quentin interrupts, walking in from the kitchen, “Stop—stop arguing. We’re not here to fucking argue, okay?”

Julia moves to the center of the room as Alice walks in and sits down. She looks at them, each individually, before her gaze finally stops on Todd, and she raises her eyebrows at him. “Todd is ready to tell us everything.” She nods to herself, once, and then moves to sit down next to Quentin and Kady.

All of their attention is suddenly back on him. His throat tightens up, as he moves to push off the couch and stand up in front of the potions. He rubs at the back of his neck nervously and clears his throat, once, twice, nodding as he inhales in a rush. “Yeah—okay.”

“Any day now.”

“Shut up, Alice.”

“I’m just saying, we all have places to be. And, I’m sorry, but nobody wants to listen to Todd’s fairy tales. He just wants to be a part of everything—“

“I’m the reason you all die.” It comes out in a rush, all one breath that blurts out of him like a gust of wind.

That stops their bickering, as their gazes turn curious.

“I thought we were your family?”

He clenches his jaw and nods, his gaze falling back down to the potions. “I—yes. Before—Before I tell you anything else. I, uh. I need you to agree to drink the potion on the table a—after. To. To, uh, preserve the future.”

Behind him, Margo leans forward and wraps her fingers around his wrist comfortingly. “I don’t think we’ll have a problem with that. Right?” A soft chorus of reluctant agreement follows, and her thumb brushes softly against the vein on the back of his wrist, before she pulls away entirely and he’s left alone to stare at his expecting family.

“Right. Okay.” He clears his throat again and moves around the table to stand where Julia stood before him, directly in the center of the room. “I’m going to. Tell you everything, now.” He lets himself look at Quentin, and then Eliot, and back to Quentin. “Just—know that. I’m. Doing everything I can to fix what I did. And that I am so, so sorry. I’ll never be able to make up for what I did, even if I manage to change the future.” Quentin furrows his eyebrows, and looks like he’s going to say something, but Todd turns away and focuses on the one person he knows won’t interrupt him.

Penny furrows his eyebrows, but it’s not Todd’s Penny. It’s not Todd’s Penny, so it’s okay. This Penny can’t hate him.

It’s a small comfort.

But it’s enough as he finally, finally, lets the anvil sitting on his chest float away, and tells his family everything. Somehow lighter, and heavier, all at once.

When he finishes, he doesn’t leave time for questions, quickly moving around the table to sit back down next to Margo. She doesn’t move in closer, like she usually does. Doesn’t wrap an arm around him to comfort him. Doesn’t even look at him.

It shouldn’t surprise him that they all hate him. Even Margo. Especially Margo.

He was supposed to take care of his family when she died. Instead, he got them all killed.

She’s probably considering never having a son in the first place. Saves them all from suffering in the future. Maybe she’s thinking of who else would be a good option. And, now, as she looks up at Quentin and Eliot, she’s probably realizing, that its Eliot’s sperm that creates their disappointment of a child, and that maybe if Quentin’s the dad, this shit won’t happen.

Maybe if they try earlier they’ll end up with a son that’s actually worth a damn.

A son worthy of being king.

A son worthy of them.

“Wow,” Penny says, breaking the tender silence. Everyone looks at him. “Wow,” He repeats, like he doesn’t know what else to say.

“That’s one way to put it,” Josh says, wide eyed. He slumps forward, resting his elbows on his knees and glances sideways at Eliot. “Jesus.” He exhales slowly, and sits back up, swallowing. “I can’t—“ He stops, furrowing his eyebrows. He probably doesn’t feel any better than Todd does.

Todd may have gotten them all killed. But Josh is the actual perpetrator.

Quentin’s gaze slides across the room to Todd. It feels like the anvil that was on his chest before has suddenly been replaced with one ten thousands times as heavy. Quentin’s eyebrows are furrowed, like he doesn’t know what to say. Like there are a thousand thoughts running through his mind, but he doesn’t know which one to pick.

Margo finally turns towards him. He closes his eyes, waiting for her to tell him he’s worthless. To tell him she regrets ever being his mother. He knows it’s coming. Knows she’s regretting every moment of kindness she’s offered him. Regretting the nights spent on the kitchen floor, or in his room, sitting and talking. Regretting getting to know her son. Regretting letting him get to know her.

She’s probably going to tell him he’s a piece of shit, and that she should have let him hold onto the depression key long enough that he’d have no choice but to kill himself.

He’d do it, too. If his family weren’t depending on him, he’d have done it a long time ago. He’s not sure what he was planning that day, when he walked into the woods. But he doubts he would have walked back out. As much as he loved his people. King or not. He doubts he would have survived the week, if Jane hadn’t sent him back.

He doesn’t think he should have survived.

He should have said no. At least they’d all be together in the under world.

“Todd.”

He shakes his head, jaw clicking as his teeth clench down. He can’t make himself look up from his lap. Can’t bear to see the look in her eyes. In any of their eyes. His eyes sting, and something wet drips down into his lap.

“Look at me.”

She’s using that voice. Her commanding, regal tone.

His chin trembles.

Nobody says anything for moment, but her hand appears in front of him, as she reaches forward and unclenches one of his fists to wrap her hand around his. She holds tight, squeezing like she’s trying to give him something else to focus on. She squeezes so tight it starts to hurt. He locks his gaze on their hands, and she squeezes tighter still. Her nails dig into the palm of his hand, stinging brutally. His chest is heaving. He hadn’t realized, but he can’t breathe.

His back feels like fire runs through his every vein, the muscles suddenly taut and angry as the breaths come in hazy and rushed. She moves around until she’s kneeling in front of him, and wraps her hand around his free hand. She squeezes just as tightly, letting her nails bite into his skin so hard they break through. He can feel his hands shaking in hers, but focuses in on the pain. Everywhere hurts, but her hands in his are different.

He can’t breathe.

Oh, god, he can’t—

Distantly, he hears footsteps rushing across the room, but they sound far off and underwater, and his muscles are so stiff, and his face tingles, and he can’t move. He can’t breathe, and he can’t move. He doesn’t—

A cool hand presses gently into the back of his neck. Someone nearby says something he can’t hear or understand. Or maybe they don’t. He’s not sure. He can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

His lips tingle like they’ve fallen asleep, and his breath rushes out over them like a harsh wind in winter, angry and brash and too quick to catch.

A warm presence leans over him, breathes something in his ear, a soothing tone that he can’t quite comprehend. He wants to ask them what’s wrong with him. What’s happening? Is this them deciding he shouldn’t be born? Is this what being erased from existence feels like? God, he’s so—he’s so scared. He’s ready to die. But does dying like this mean he never gets to see his family again?

He doesn’t want to never see them again. He doesn’t want to cease to exist.

Oh god.

Please, he thinks, please don’t erase me. Please. I love you—please don’t erase me.

“I’m sorry,” He chokes out, the sound angry and hoarse, wheezing out with his breath. He’s not even sure it actually comes out as words, his lips are numb and tingly, so are his cheeks and ears. He’s not even sure he’s still here, but he needs them to know before—oh god. He can still feel Margo’s fingers wrapped angrily around his. She holds tighter, and a larger hand appears, pressing harder, squeezing, squeezing, squeezing—

Somebody whispers something, a soft hand pressing to his chest. A careful calm at the center of the storm, and he wants to jerk away, wants to stop them from erasing him, but the edges of his vision go black, and he’s barely able to gasp in the next breath before his world fades away entirely.

He opens his eyes to the sun shining down on him. He turns his head to the side, neck screaming at the movement. He’s laying on the couch in the living room. Margo, Julia and Quentin all stare down at him. Julia’s eyes are wide, but more like she’s looking him over.

He’s still here.

He inhales once, shakily, and Margo moves forward to help him up. Quentin moves in, too, taking his other arm, until he’s sitting upright. They’re all still here, watching from their places across the room.

What just happened?

Nobody says anything, though, and he doesn’t think he can, either. His throat feels like someone’s stabbed a spike through it. A hot, fiery spike. Julia must realize this, because she leans in and presses a hand to the front of his throat. For a brief, terrifying, moment, he thinks she’s actually going to strangle him, but something cool envelopes his throat, and slowly the fire fades.

“Thank you,” He murmurs, when she pulls away.

She nods, and moves to sit on the edge of the coffee table.

“Are you okay?” Margo asks, raises her eyebrows as she moves to sit next to him. “You scared us for a minute there.”

He scared them?

Quentin sits down next to him as well, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches him quietly, which is almost as unnerving as Eliot’s gaze from across the room.

“So—“ Not Todd’s Penny says, “The Penny that’s married to Kady and Julia. Is that me?”

Todd shakes his head. “No. I don’t know what happens to you.”

Penny nods. “Right. Good to know, I guess.”

Kady raises a hand. “Can we go back to the part where I’m somehow dating Josh? What the fuck is that?”

Josh huffs. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m a catch.”

“You also murder us all.”

Josh frowns, huffing. “Yeah, well, Alice. How many times have you betrayed everyone?”

“I haven’t brutally murdered anyone.”

“That we know of,” Eliot corrects.

“Guys,” Julia hisses, glaring at them, “Now’s really not the time to argue.” She turns back to Todd. “You only told us because you have a plan. Right?”

He nods.

She opens her mouth like she’s going to ask him something, but Quentin leans forward. “Jules,” He says, “He just had a panic attack. Give him a minute.” Todd’s heart skips a beat as he turns to look at him incredulously.

Is he seriously defending him? After what he did?

He’s starting to think Quentin Coldwater never changes.

He’s always been too good.

“As much as I’d love to advocate for post-panic attack calmness,” Eliot says, finally pushing away from the wall. Todd’s heart can’t take all the start-stop his families causing. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry. He’s here trying to keep Josh from killing us. And I’d like to assume that he told us everything because he has a plan?” He directs the question at Todd.

Todd blinks up at him, before realizing and then nodding, once, frantically. “Oh—uh. Yeah. A plan. I have that.” He tilts his head. “Kind of.”

“Kind of?” Josh squeaks, “No—not kind of. You need to keep me from killing everyone, otherwise I’m not taking that Jedi mind erase potion.”

“Do Jedi use potions?”

Quentin shakes his head, “No. They don’t.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Not important!” Josh exclaims, glaring, and waving a hand at Todd, “What’s the plan here?”

Todd attempts a smile, but it falls prematurely as he shrugs a shoulder. “I think there are wolves that can help you. That aren’t murderous psychopaths.”

“Think?”

“Well, uh. I’ve met them. They didn’t—they chased me away all growley. One of them almost bit me.” He frowns at the memory, and takes a shaky breath. “You and I have to go alone. They uh—they’re territorial. Especially around magicians.”

“Oh great,” Eliot bites, turning on his heel and glaring up at the ceiling, his hand running through his hair shakily,“Yeah, let’s just leave you two alone.” The sarcasm is almost poignant.

Which. Ouch.

Todd swallows and pushes up from the couch, ignoring Margo reaching back out for him. “I’ll—I’ll be outside. Josh—you, uh,” His gaze darts around the room, desperately avoiding eye contact as he stumbles through the living room towards the entryway, “When you’re—,” He stops, and staring at the door, reaching out and wrapping his hand around the handle, “Just. Meet you out there.”

And then he pulls the door open and rushes out.

He barely hears Margo’s angry, “Eliot you fucking idiot—“ before the door closes behind him.

They’re just outside the wolves territory when Josh finally speaks up. “Everything that happens,” He says, “I think I owe you an apology.”

Todd shrugs a shoulder, “You didn’t kill me.”

“No, but I killed everyone you love.”

“You only killed one of them.”

Josh scoffs. “Yeah? Is that why you haven’t looked at me at all since the fairy queen showed you what happened?”

Todd stops, staring down at the ground in front of them, before closing his eyes and turning towards him. He inhales, once, slowly, before opening his eyes. “It’s my fault,” he says, “I’m the reason they sent you away. I’m the reason they erased you. I’m the reason you believed the wolves were your family. I’m,” He pauses, speaking slowly and carefully so Josh understands, “The reason you were brainwashed. I—I hate you for what you did. What you do. But I can’t blame you.” He shrugs and turns away again, “So don’t apologize to me.”

“You seriously think it’s all your fault?”

“Because it is.” He moves forward, “Are you coming or not?”

“Wait—“ Todd whips around, glaring and Josh frowns. “What?”

“We don’t have time to argue about who’s to blame. Who has more to be guilty for. You weren’t there. You aren’t the you that did what you did.” He pauses, frowning as he thinks over the sentence. He nods to himself once, deciding that yeah, it makes sense, and continues. “You have nothing to be guilty for, Josh. We’re going to talk to these wolves, they’re going to tell us how to stop the quickening, and then you’ll be free and clear of everything.”

Josh blinks at him, before sighing, he takes a step forward, nodding. “Fine. But you need to realize that once you fix everything, they won’t die. So you have nothing to be guilty for, either.”

Todd scoffs, and turns around to start walking.

He knows the second they step into the wolves territory. If the angry growl coming from behind a dumpster is anything to go by. And if not, the three jacked hairy guys that emerge from the alley and glare at them, teeth bared, is definitely something he can use as an identifier.

“Hey guys,” He says, drawing out the hey, “Good to see you again.”

The largest of them steps forward. His arms are almost the size of Todd’s head. Instinctively, Todd takes a step back. “Magicians,” He says, “Thought we made it clear you aren’t welcome here.”

Todd nods, as Josh takes a step back as well. “Yeah,” Todd says, nodding again, “See—thing is. I, uh. See.” He glances at Josh, before turning back to them, wide eyed and pointing a shaking finger at Josh. “Quickening.” He frowns, eyebrows furrowing, because he’s not sure that makes sense. But.

One of the wolves’ eyes go wide. “What’d you just say?”

“The—the quickening? He’s going to—“

The wolves look at each other, before the largest one sighs, deep and agitated. “All right,” He says, jerking his head to the side in a ‘follow me’ motion. “Let’s go.”

“Me too?”

The wolves roll their eyes, and Todd takes that as his permission to follow.

Josh doesn’t move. “Didn’t we agree I shouldn’t just follow after random wolves—“

“Shut up and come on,” Todd says, barely glancing back at him. “This is how we save everyone.” He turns his attention on the wolves. “Thank you, by the way.”

The smaller of the three looks down at him. “Don’t thank us yet,” He growls.

Todd nods. “No—yeah. Totally. Not thanking.” He purses his lips as the wolf turns his attention forward again. Now’s probably not the best time to ask, but. “I just—I have one more request?”

“We aren’t helping you.”

“Right, yeah. Obviously. Just. A friend of ours. Rumor has it she’s here.”

They all stop, turning to glare down at him. “Stop. Talking.”

Todd nods again. “Yeah,” He says, shaking his head, “I would love to. But I have this panic reflex, where I just—when people make me nervous, I mean. I just—“

“Who’s the friend?”

“You aren’t seriously—“

“It’ll get him to shut up, won’t it?”

“Her names Marina.”

The large wolf slams his mouth shut, and turns his attention on Todd. “What?” he asks, eyes widening like he’s surprised. “You know Marina?”

“I mean, yeah.”

“You’re a Brakebills Magician.”

“Yep. Well. Kind of. Not really. But, yeah. Mostly? Some.”

“How do you know Marina?”

Todd blinks. “Oh. Well. I don’t. Our friends do. She—tell her Julia sent me? And she’ll say she knows me. Well. Not me, me. But—“

“We get it,” The mostly quiet wolf says, holding a hand out between them. “Stop talking, and follow us. I’ll see if Marina wants to speak to you.”

Marina blinks at him from her place across the table. “Why are you here?” She asks. “I don’t know you,” her gaze darts over to Josh, “And he’s clearly far off from the quickening.”

“You know about the quickening? And you know me?”

“Don’t get all doe eyed on me, Josh,” She mutters, making a face, “You’re practically my really annoying little brother where I come from. This,” She motions to him, “Is weird.”

His shoulders slump. “Okay.”

She rolls her eyes, turning her attention on Todd. “Explain.”

“I’m from a different time line. Like you.”

“Which one? I’m told there are, like, forty of them.”

He makes a face. “This one. But. The future.”

She raises her eyebrows, before leaning in and crossing her arms over the table. “All right,” She says, “Now I’m interested. What’s happening in the future? Am I still alive?”

Todd blinks. “I—I don’t know. I’m not from Earth. I just—“ He glances over her shoulder at the wolves watching them, “I thought you. Would be able to get the wolves to accept Josh into your pack.”

“I’m not in the pack. Because I’m not a wolf.”

“No. But the hedge witches. They protect them. They protect you. Even though you’re not their Marina.”

She smirks, her ponytail swaying behind her as she sits up straight. “Doesn’t matter what timeline you’re from. When you garner respect, and come back from the dead, people—and wolves—respect that shit.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Julia really send you?”

“I didn’t exactly tell her I would run into you here.”

“But you do know her.”

“Yeah. She’s—she’s kind of a goddess now.”

She looks surprised for a moment, before a slow smirk forms and she nods. “Yeah. That sounds about right.” She looks over her shoulder and motions for one of the wolves to come over. “Jesse, we need your help over here.” Turning back around to face Todd, she adds just for him to hear, “Don’t do anything stupid. He’s nice, but he doesn’t tolerate a lot of stupidity.”

“Or any,” a man—presumably Jesse—says, sidling up next to her and taking the seat. “I’m Jesse.” At least Todd’s right about some things.

Todd smiles. “Hi. I’m Todd, and this is Josh.”

Josh waves. “Hi.”

He’s being so remarkably quiet that Todd wonders how he hasn’t forgotten he’s there. Oh, he leans back and glances down. Josh’s quaking leg is why. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. He’s a wolf. He’s welcome here. Todd’s the one who should be shaking like a Fillorian rat.

Jesse looks them both over. “All right,” He says, after a long moment. “When were you bit?”

“Oh, straight to business then, got it.” Josh laughs nervously, “This guy doesn’t mess around, does he?” He asks, elbowing Todd’s arm.

“No,” Jesse says, “he doesn’t.”

Josh’s smile falls. “Okay, that’s fair. I wasn’t bit.”

“Sexually transmitted?”

Josh nods. “Sexually transmitted.”

“How long ago?”

“Maybe six months ago?”

“Any symptoms?”

“Only during the full moon.”

Todd looks at Marina as they continue their back and forth. “They all get into trouble again in the future?” She asks, tilting her head. “Or is there another reason you’ve travelled to the past?”

He shakes his head. “I—they all die. I’m trying to save them.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’s it on you to save them? Sorry, but I’ve never even seen you before. Never heard of you, or anything. Everyone who runs with that group ends up on some magical creatures radar. Not you, though.”

“That’s because I’m solely from the future.”

“Who are you to them?”

“Family.”

She narrows her eyes, leaning in. “Yeah. But who’re your parents?”

“Does it matter?”

“No. But I’m curious.”

He swallows. “Margo. And Eliot.” She raises her eyebrows, “And Quentin.”

Before she can really question what that means, Jesse turns towards them. “He’s got a slow case. But I think we can help them. If you don’t mind him being around a lot.” He shoots a glance back at Josh, “I do mean a lot.”

Marina looks thoughtful for a moment, before sighing dramatically. “I guess we get to be heroes today, huh?” She shrugs. “Lets do this. But I do want to talk to Julia at some point.”

“I think we can do that,” Todd says, smiling, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Jesse’s gotta go over everything about the quickening with Josh. You can either stay or go. I know how to find Brakebills to bring him back.”

He thinks back on Eliot and the others at the cottage and shakes his head. “No—I’m. I’m okay here. If that’s all right.” He looks at Jesse hopefully. “With you, I mean.”

Jesse stares at him for a long moment. If you don’t talk, you can stay.”

“Deal.”

Josh scoffs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him not talk.”

Todd frowns. “You’re one to—“

“Starting now.” Todd nods, miming zipping his lips and sitting back in his seat. Jesse looks at Marina. “Is this something I’m going to regret?”

She shrugs one shoulder, “Probably.”

“Great.” He takes a deep breath and focuses solely on Josh. “All right. What do you know about wolves?”

“Wolf wolves or—“

“Werewolves, obviously.” He already sounds like he’s regretting this.

“Uh. Just that on the full moon I really, really want to go run through the wolves and eat raw meat.”

“Okay. Do you shift yet?”

“Not completely, no.”

“That’s good. Do you know anything about the quickening?”

“Other than the fact that I’m going to be super dangerous and need the help of a pack to keep from murdering everyone I know and care about?”

Jesse blinks. “Right,” he draws the ‘i’ sound out, before settling back in the chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “The Quickening is basically an extreme allergic reaction. Some wolves react very quickly. Turning into a rabid wolf within three to four years after getting bit. Others . . . Like you. Take longer. It’s a slow devolve. Kind of like dementia, or Alzheimers. You know you’re fading away, but you can’t do anything about it.”

“What?”

“The good news,” Jesse continues, as if Josh hadn’t spoken at all, “Is that with the right help, you won’t go rabid, at all.” He looks him over, appraising, “Would you be willing to give someone the bite?”

“Like—turn someone into a wolf? And them maybe end up like me? Hell no!”

The muscle in Jesse’s jaw jumps. “No. The Quickening only affects sexually transmitted wolves. You give someone the bite, they just become a wolf. No chance of going rabid. Unless they fight the wolf instincts.”

“Why would I—“

“It’s a cure.”

“Turning someone into a wolf is a cure? How?”

“You have a disease. Sexually Transmitted lycanthropy works different than that transmitted through the bite. You’ve got all this extra—“

“You’re a horny, rabid wolf, who needs release,” Marina interrupts. Jesse looks at her and she shrugs again. “What? It’s true!”

“Okay . . .” Josh breathes. “But, isn’t it cruel to—to turn someone into a wolf?”

“If a longer lifespan, immunity to most diseases,” Todd’s head jerks up, eyes widening as he continues, “stronger senses, and overall better mental health is cruel, then sure. Absolutely.” Jesse uncrosses his arms and leans forward. “There’s a lot of stigma about wolves, but it’s intentional. We saw the vampire craze that shook the world after Twilight, and we thought, yeah, let’s make sure being a wolf continues being seen as this awful thing—because the last thing we need is a bunch of 13 and 14 year old girls storming our territory.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Todd raises a hand, and Jesse sighs, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t I say no speaking?” Todd nods, but holds his hand up, waving it slightly. “Fine. One question.”

“The bit about immunity to most diseases. Does—does that apply to diseases that are already there? That—that aren’t active yet?”

“What?”

“If, say, someone who is going to die in the future from a disease gets the bite. Could that maybe, possibly, save them from dying in the future?”

Jesse watches him for a beat, before nodding like he understands. “If their body accepts the bite, and they turn? Absolutely.”

“So if we have someone—“

“He said one question, you’re going to get us both killed,” Josh interrupts, hissing.

Jesse holds a hand up, “No. Go ahead.”

Todd nods. “If we have someone who is destined to die from some mysterious illness in the future. It’s like cancer, but magical? If we know someone like that. Could—could Josh choose to bite them? And that’ll save them? And him?”

“Providing they’re healthy enough to survive the bite, and the body accepts it. Yes.”

“What if their body doesn’t accept the bite? Does it revert back to the quickening?”

Jesse’s lip twitches, like Todd’s asking all the right questions, and it kind of feels nice to not have all the hate in the world directed at him. “No. It doesn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t just biting a hunk of raw meat work?”

“The virus needs to spread. Can’t spread if the flesh is dead.”

Todd’s mind goes wild. It sounds too good to be true.

Is this how he does it?

Is this how he saves them all? He swallows thickly. Josh just has to join this pack and bite someone. Someone who might die anyways. Someone Todd loves. Someone he didn’t think he’d be able to save.

“Your heartbeat is all over the place,” Jesse notes, “Do you know something we don’t?”

“I think I have the perfect person for the bite.”

“Hold on—I didn’t agree to biting anyone!”

Todd stops, turning his entire body in his chair to glare at him. “You were just whining about how fucking guilty you feel outside,” He says, feeling something dark and angry coiling in his gut. “You can’t seriously say you feel guilty and refuse to make this—it’s not even a sacrifice. You can save everyone by doing one simple thing!”

“You want me to turn someone else into a werewolf! Do you not get how fucking crazy that is—“

“Not just anyone. Margo.”

Josh’s eyes go wide, eyebrows rising high on his forehead, “Oh fuck that,” He says, pointing a shaking finger, “You have got to be kidding. She’s dangerous enough just as a magician. Do you have any idea how dangerous she’d be as a fucking wolf?”

“I don’t care how dangerous she’d be!” Todd exclaims, standing up and slamming his fist into the table as he glares down at Josh, “I care that she’d be alive!” Josh’s mouth closes slowly. He stares up at Todd. If Todd didn’t know better, he’d think he looks a little . . . Scared.

“Oh.”

“We can save everyone,” Todd continues, calmer, as he sits down and looks at Jesse and Marina, who are both watching him with equally shocked faces. “We can save everyone. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Margo doesn’t seem the type to let someone bite her.”

“Margo’s the type that doesn’t want to die.” Todd murmurs, looking down at his hand. The aching burn in his knuckles finally registers as he twists his hand around to look at them. They’re bright red and pulsing. The knuckle above his middle finger has a small gash that’s starting to bleed.

Marina looks down, sighing. “I’ll go get some alcohol and bandages for that,” She says, before getting up and disappearing through a door.

Josh watches after her, before turning to Todd. “Look—I get it, man. I do. I’d want to save my mom, too. But—“

“There are no buts.”

“No, there are.” He nods, mostly to himself, “Mainly that she dies when you’re really young, right?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t look away from his knuckles, oddly transfixed by the blood.

“You don’t know what could change if she lives longer than that, man. This could just be stepping on one too many butterflies—“

He finally breaks away from the blood and looks up at Josh. “It’s my future,” He says, “Your entire future is changing. You don’t know what’s coming. It’s my future I’m changing. I don’t care what you think about it, Josh. I’m telling you right now that you’re going to bite Margo. You’re going to save my mother. And in turn, they’ll help you save yourself.” His gaze darts across the table at Jesse. “Right?”

Jesse narrows his eyes, like he’s thinking about his answer, before shrugging. “Seems to me that saving a life is a fair cost for not going rabid.”

“You can’t be serious,” Josh says, snapping his own eyes over to Jesse, “You don’t know Margo—“

“Do you want to go rabid?”

“No!”

“Then I think you’ll do what the kid wants.”

“I thought you were in charge here.”

Jesse chuckles, glancing at Todd, and shaking his head, “You know,” He says, “I thought so, too. But he makes a convincing case.” He nods down to Todd’s aching hand, “And anyone willing to bleed for their cause, has a lot to fight for.”

“What?”

“I have a feeling if we don’t agree to what he wants, he’s going to drag you around to a bunch of other packs. Packs less friendly than ours.” His gaze slides back up to Todd’s, “And I have a feeling that’s how he ended up in the past in the first place.”

Todd nods. “There were mistakes made.”

“Then lets not repeat them.” He turns his attention on Josh. “I’ll make you a deal. This Margo chic decides she doesn’t want the bite? That’s fair game. We’ll find someone who does. But, why not give the kid a chance to save his mother?”

“Because she’s supposed to die.”

Todd’s shoulders go taut.

“How do you know that?” Jesse asks. “You’re not from the future, too, are you?”

“No, but she dies before—“

“She dies because she got sick, and didn’t get the bite. Everyone else died because you went rabid.” He glances at Todd, “That’s right, right?” Todd nods, heart hammering in his chest, and Jesse turns back to Josh. “For all you know everything happened because you didn’t bite her.”

Josh’s mouth opens and closes a few times, before Marina finally comes back into the room with an ice pack and some bandages.

“Think on it,” Jesse says, scooting his chair back and shooting Todd a look. “Ask her if she’s down. If she is, then the only way you don’t go rabid, Josh, is if you bite Margo.” He shrugs, glancing behind him at a few onlookers, “We’re going to get everything ready. I have a feeling this one’s not going to take no for an answer.” He smirks down at Todd. “You’re not so bad.”

Todd blinks. “Neither are you?”

“I know.” He pats Marina on the shoulder, and turns around, walking away without even a look back.

“This is fucking insane.”

Marina huffs out a breath through her nose as she pulls Todd’s hand towards her, “You’re a werewolf magician, hanging around a time traveler. And giving Margo the bite to avoid going rabid is the insane part?”

Josh slumps back in his seat. “Yeah. It is.”

“I liked you more when you were a bad ass,” Marina murmurs, focusing on bandaging Todd’s hand. “You’re kind of pathetic now.”

When they get back to the cottage, everyone is, miraculously, still waiting for them. Quentin’s the first one to notice when they walk through the door, standing up awkwardly, and brushing his hair behind his ear. “You’re back,” He says, swallowing and stepping side to side like he’s not sure what to do.

“We’re back.”

“What happened to your hand?” Margo asks, taking a few steps closer to them.

Quentin looks down at Todd’s hand as well. “Is there—is that blood seeping through—“

“It’s not important,” Todd says, moving to the center of the room, and dragging Josh along with his free hand. “We know what we have to do. To save everyone.” He looks at Margo meaningfully.

She quirks one eyebrow. “Is that so?”

He nods. “Everyone.”

She tilts her head and sits down on the nearest surface. “And how’s that possible?”

“Josh is—Josh is going to give you the bite.”

“The bite?”

“To become a werewolf.”

“I think the fuck not,” Eliot says, storming across the room with intent, stopping to stand in between Todd and Margo. “You must be out of your already deranged mind.”

Todd’s chin trembles but he straightens out his shoulders, lifting his chin in the way he’s seen Eliot do ten thousand times, and does what his entire upbringing taught him not to; he talks back to his father. “Do you want Margo to do?” He asks, standing his ground. “Because if Margo doesn’t get the bite, she’ll die. And then not long after, Josh is going to kill the rest of you. This is how we save everyone.”

Josh clears his throat. “There’s a way I don’t kill anyone that doesn’t involving biting Margo—“

“Does that involve saving Margo?” Quentin asks.

“No, but—“

“Then why are we even considering it?”

Todd whips around, eyes going wide as everyone follows his path to look at Quentin. “We aren’t,” He says, as Quentin’s gaze slides from Josh to him. “I told the wolves Josh bites Margo, or Josh bites nobody. And they agreed.” He swallows, turning his attention back on Margo. “Unless Margo decides she doesn’t want the bite.”

“Margo doesn’t want to be a werewolf,” Eliot says.

Margo furrows her eyebrows, turning to look at him. “Since when does Eliot decide what Margo wants?” She asks.

His eyebrows rise, “Are you kidding?”

“No. I’m not kidding. What is wrong with you?”

“You seriously want to become a werewolf?”

“No, but I want to be dead even less.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Unless you want me to die a thankless death. In which case, Eliot. Please let us all know before anyone does anything stupid, like saving me.”

His face falls. “Bambi, you know that’s not—“

“Then what the fuck is the problem?”

“He is!” Eliot exclaims, pointing at Todd.

Todd’s heart falls, and he takes a step away from Eliot.

“How the fuck are we supposed to trust him?”

“I thought we were passed this, Eliot.”

“Passed what? Him lying to us and everyone eating it up?”

The last thing Todd expects is for Quentin to speak up for him, but. “El,” He says, moving towards them all. “He’s not lying to us. He’s your son.”

“I’ve played this game already—“

“No you haven’t.” Quentin makes a face. “Frey turned out not to be your daughter, but you still look at her like she’s your kid. What’s different this time? He’s from the future, which is a little ridiculous. But our lives are—our lives are insane. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. We lived an entire lifetime together, and here we are. The same age we were the day we walked through the clock.”

Eliot makes a face, stepping away from them. “I’m not falling for this. I’ve never—“

“Jesus, El,” Margo mutters, “He even looks like us. How—“

“No. He doesn’t.”

Todd moves to stand against the wall and out of the way. “I’m sorry,” He says, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t have—I should have found a way to do this on my own. I didn’t want to create more problems. I just—I wanted to fix what I did.”

Eliot scoffs. “If any of this is real, how can you act like you care about anyone but yourself? You cared the minute everyone died. And you only care because you blame yourself.”

Margo’s mouth falls open. “Eliot!”

“At least in that aspect we’re one in the same,” Todd snaps. He shakes his head, wiping angrily at his burning eyes, “I spent my entire life trying to make you proud. And yeah, I failed on every fucking aspect because your expectations are so insanely high that nobody could reach them. I know you didn’t.” His chin trembles as he moves around the room, glaring at Eliot. “You had them erase my memory because you thought I was too fucking weak to handle the truth. What kind father does that?”

“You’re seriously yelling at me for something I haven’t even done yet. That I don’t even know I will do!”

“No. Fuck you,” Todd shakes his head. “What I did was awful. And I will never forgive myself for it. Because I got you all killed. But I won’t act like I did it out of the fucking blue. I snapped because Quentin’s the one that came at me, asking me to marry my life away. My entire life I was sure of one thing; and that was that I could count on one of my parents to love me. Most nights I questioned whether or not you loved me. Every day was about earning your favor, becoming the king you wanted me to be.

“Hiding the woman I loved because you wouldn’t approve. I idolized you. And you saw me, not as your son, but as the heir of Fillory. You loved the son that doesn’t even exist from a timeline that never happened more than you loved me! And I’m actually your son!”

Eliot’s mouth falls open. Something flashes behind his eyes, and he stumbles back a step. “How—How do you know about Rupert?”

“We haven’t told anyone about what happened in Fillory,” Quentin breathes. “Not everything, at least. Not. Not that.”

“Yeah, well,” Todd throws an arm up, “You never let me forget about him.” He keeps his gaze locked on Eliot as he clenches his jaw. “That enough to make you believe I’m not fucking lying? That I couldn’t live up to the son that probably doesn’t even exist anymore?” Eliot’s face falls, eyes softening several degrees as he looks around the room at the rest of Todds family. Todd scoffs, turning his attention on Margo. “Do you want the bite or don’t you?”

He tries to ignore the way her eyes are watering, because he knows she doesn’t want anyone to comment on it, but it still tugs at her heart. She shouldn’t have to see any of this. She reaches forward, and grabs his arm by the elbow with both hands. “You’re damn fucking right I want the bite,” She says, shakily straightening her own shoulders out. “Someone has to keep these idiots from being idiots.”

He nods, once, and pulls away. “Okay. I’m going to call Marina. Set it up. Everyone’ll live, and none of this nastiness will have happened.” He glances back up Eliot again, swallowing down the tears that want to well up in his own eyes, along with everything else he never had the chance to say because he was too afraid. “Don’t worry,” He says, pointedly, “I’ll go back to being the respectful heir when you’re alive again.”

“Todd—“ Quentin starts.

Todd shakes his head, turning back to him. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I know you’re not you right now. But I’m sorry. You didn’t—don’t deserve what I do to you. And I will spend the rest of my life when everything’s fixed making it up to you.”

“Todd, I—“

“How long does the potion take to kick in, Julia?”

Julia inhales quickly, standing up from the couch, “About forty eight hours. And nobody will remember until they see you again. Not baby you. This you. Nobody’ll remember until you go back. It’s like Quentin and Eliot’s alternate life. We—we won’t remember the death or any of that. Just you being here.”

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath of his own and shrugs. “Everyone should take the potion now. I’ll tell them they need to do everything as soon as possible. If it works—“

“Are you going to just disappear?” Alice asks. “How does it work; you going back?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m winging it.” He resists the urge to mention that he knows Eliot hates when he does that. But Eliot’s already dragging his feet across the room to grab himself a drink at the bar.

Kady huffs, standing up. “All right,” She says, “Can we finish with this emotional shit, handle everything, and get back to finishing the actual quest? This Todd shit isn’t the only shit going on in our lives right now.”

Todd nods. “I’ll go call now.” He looks around the room one more time, before nodding and turning towards the front door, pulling the phone Fogg gave him, out of his front pocket as he crosses the threshold.

Jesse’s enthusiastic and agrees to set up everything for early the next morning. He’s not sure why, but telling them as much feels like a goodbye. Even more so when he heads up the stairs and closes the door to his room behind him.

He rests his forehead on the wood, letting his eyes fall shut. If this doesn’t work, nothing will. If curing Josh and saving Margo doesn’t fix everything—nothing will. He pushes away from the door and heads over to the bed, pulling the blankets up and over himself once he lies down.

Not much later, he hears his door creak open, and feels someone lie down next to him.

Margo pulls the blanket down enough to motion for him to move over. When he doesn’t, she rolls her eyes and shoves him over, and forces her way under to blankets. When he just stares at her after that, she sighs dramatically, and pulls him into his, wrapping her arms around him.

“Whatever happens tomorrow,” She murmurs, “I know I’m not your mom yet, and it doesn’t really count yet. But, I want you to know that I love you, and I’m going to make sure you’re loved. Okay?”

“Margo—“

“Julia’s going to cast a compulsion to make sure we all take the potion, so you don’t need to worry about that, either.”

“I—“

“Go to sleep, Todd. We’ll figure everything else out in the morning.”

He wants to object, but he’s tired, and sore, and she’s warm, raking her fingers through his hair, and the objection dies on his tongue. He closes his eyes and curls up against her, inhaling deep.

He shouldn’t be surprised when he wakes up alone.

His bed is cold, and itchy, and he feels like he hasn’t slept in a century. Part of him wants to stay in bed, let them go handle everything alone. But he sighs sleepily, and forces himself out of bed, barely blinking as he heads across the room to grab some fresh clothes. The sun beats down on him through the open window, brighter and clearer than it’s been in days.

There’s something sweet and familiar in the air, but he’s too tired to think long on it. Maybe someones cooking breakfast. Blearily, he reaches into his dresser, somehow seemingly taller than it was the night before, and pulls out some clothes.

Huh.

The silky material rolls over his fingers, bright and beautiful. Nothing like the itchy cotton he remembers being in his dresser drawer.

He blinks down at it, thinking it might be his coronation robes. But they’re a different color. Softer, like they’ve recently been washed. Not like the angry, itchy fabric pulled down from storage he wore during his coronation.

He furrows his eyebrows and looks through the drawer. Everything in the drawer is silky and beautiful.

He turns around, frowning. It’s too early for pranks.

Of course, that’s when he realizes what the sweet taste in the air is. Why it’s so familiar. He takes a careful, testing deep breath in, eyes falling shut at the familiarity.

Fillory.

He drops the clothes, letting them carefully fall to the floor with a soft fluttering. Reaching up to rub at his eyes, he spins in place, and realizes that this isn’t his room at the cottage. The cool marble floors beneath him shine, glimmering around the room as the sun reflects off them. This is his room in the castle. He looks towards the window, and rushes across the room, sliding half way when he slips on the silk blankets that fell to the floor when he got up.

He crashes into the railing, mouth falling open, he looks out on Fillory. Green for miles, disappearing into the horizon.

He spins back around, heart hammering painfully in his chest, and stares, wide eyed at the door to his room. Swallowing thickly, he lets go of the railing and takes a step towards the door, and then another. One after another until he can reach out and wrap his fingers around the handle and yank it open.

It creaks loudly as he lets it gently bounce against the wall in his room and drift closed, until it hits his shoulder. He listens for footsteps, but hears nothing, so he leans out of his room and looks left, then right. The halls are empty. No soldiers or guards walking around. No sound echoing from any of the other rooms.

He stares for a long moment, before finally allowing himself to step over the threshold and into the hall. He holds his breath until both feet are out of the room. Opens his eyes; hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. And follows the familiar path leading to the throne room.

Each step that takes him closer makes his heart skip. Part of him isn’t sure he’ll even make it there. He’s had nightmares like this before. Dreaming of waking up in Fillory and finding his family laughing together over breakfast. Each step is a nightmare relived.

But unlike his nightmares, the hallways get shorter. And he can turn the corners. With each step, he actually makes progress. Each step brings him closer to where he’s supposed to be.

Each step leads him right up to the throne room doors.

He stands in front of them for a few long minutes, just staring up at their looming height. He’s torn between shoving them open, and just staying right here. Living in a fantasy that he fixed everything. A good dream, for once. If he doesn’t open the door he can’t puncture this bubble. If he lets the doors remain shut and looming, he doesn’t have to face whatever reality is on the other side.

But his fingers twitch. Which reminds him—he brings his hand up and looks it over. His knuckles are still bruised and battered. His heart skips a beat as he reaches up with his other hand and gently grazes his fingers over the bruises. He hisses as pain shoots up his arm, and inhales quickly as his gaze darts back up tot he door.

Don’t they say you can’t feel pain your dreams?

His stomach flips. And before he knows what he’s doing, he’s moving forward and pushing the doors open. As soon as they crack, he hears a chorus of murmuring, clanking plates and forks. He steps through, careful not be too hopeful. His eyes close of their own accord, and he stops, just inside the doorway, letting them clink shut behind him.

The murmuring stops, the sound of forks falling to plates echoing around the room. He can practically feel them all staring at them. But who are they? Wolves? Or his family?

“Todd?”

It’s Fen. It’s Fen. That’s Fen. He knows her voice. And she sounds half shocked, half relieved, and it—

He—oh god.

“You’re back.”

He opens his eyes, feels the tears fall before he can even think to catch them.

“Welcome back. How was your vacation?” Alice says, grinning. “Don’t look at me like. It’s just a good thing we have plenty of breakfast. Sit down.” It’s so . . . Her. To ignore what he’s done, and just set the motion is everyone moving on. Now that he knows her past, it kind of makes sense.

“Are you okay?” Julia asks, pushing her chair back. Her eyebrows are pursed curiously, and the closer she gets to him, the faster his heart races.

Because she’s older, and she’s his aunt. And she actually looks happy to see him. It’s a harsh contradiction to the past year.

“No, yeah. I’m—I’m—“ His chin trembles, and he can’t stop himself from running across the room and wrapping his arms around Julia as tight as he can. She pauses, tensing up, but then laughing softly and wrapping him up in the hug.

“Well, good morning to you, too.” She chuckles into his ear. The chuckle is less humorous, and more breathy and worried like she’s not sure what to think. And he can’t blame her. As far as she and everyone else is concerned, he took a trip, renounced his claim to the throne, and said he wanted no contact with the royal family. Leaves room for a whole lot of confusion. “Are you okay?” She asks, softer. “Did something—“

Eliot starts to say something from his place at the table, but stops mid word. At the exact moment, Julia jerks away, stopping to hold Todd at arms length. Her eyes go wide, and her mouth falls open. Todd looks passed her, to see that everyone else at the table has a similar look on their face.

“Todd?” Quentin asks, voice soft. So much softer than Todd knows what to do with.

The potion must be wearing off now that he’s back. That’s what she said would happen, isn’t it?

Todd looks around the table, his heart pitter pattering excitedly in his chest like it doesn’t know what to do right now. Josh is sitting next to Alice, who’s sitting next to Penny, who’s sitting next to Quentin—

Then there’s Eliot, and Fen, and—and.

Where are Margo and Kady?

He doesn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Julia swallows thickly and lets go of him. “Uh,” She says, swallowing again and tucking her hair behind her ear. “Kady’s walking the grounds with your nephew.”

There’s a lot to unpack there. “Nephew?”

She looks mildly alarmed for a minute, before her eyes widen and she nods shakily. “Yeah, she’s his godmother. Josh has a meeting later today, and his mother’s off volunteering in the village. So Kady volunteered to watch him for the day. Did you really—”

“I have a nephew?”

Her eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “You have a nephew.”

He smiles to himself, feels something warm and fuzzy work its way down his spine as he moves in closer to the table. Julia grabs his hand, lacing her fingers through his and her free hand around his arm. “But where’s Margo?” He asks, as they close the distance between them and the table. “I want to—“ He stops himself at the look they pass each other. “What? What’s going on?”

“Maybe . . . you should sit down,” Fen says, placing a hand on the chair next to her and motioning for him to come over.

“Yeah, eat some breakfast. You must be starving—“

Todd shakes his head, stopping. “Where’s Margo?” He asks. “What’s going on?”

“At least now I know what she said I forgot,” Eliot murmurs with a deep sigh. “Come sit next to me, Todd.”

He furrows his brow. “Do—you remember what I—“

Eliot nods. “Yeah. I do. But only, like. Thirty seconds ago.” He shrugs, “Much more poignant than that is the fact that I love you, and that I need you to come over so I can hug you and make sure you know that.” He raises his eyebrows, and nods once, “So. Come give me a hug.”

Todd stares at him for a few seconds before a pitiful sound works up through his throat and he closes the distance between them to wrap himself up in his father. Eliot’s hold around him is tight and sure, his hand carefully gripping the back of his head and holding him to him. He breathes him in through his nose. This is the scent he knows. Not that of cigarette and alcohol and grief he grew to know in the past. But this. His father.

This is his father.

It’s not long before a new set of hands appear. “I think it’s my turn,” Quentin says, soft. “Unless you’re going to hog hugging him, Eliot.”

Eliot lets out a wet chuckle, and it takes him pulling away from Todd to realize he’s crying. He reaches up and swipes the tears away. “Kings aren’t supposed to cry, remember?”

“Fuck that,” Eliot says, voice slightly choked off. “Hug your other father and let me be emotional for once.”

Todd laughs, his own vision watery as he turns to Quentin and is immediately pulled into a wrought iron grip. Quentin’s hair tickles his nose, but he doesn’t care. He wraps his arms around him as tight as he can. “I’m so sorry,” He says, the words coming out muffled against Quentin’s chest.

Quentin pulls away, just enough to look him in the eyes. He raises his eyes, and makes sure Todd’s looking him in the eye. “Don’t you dare,” He says, “Don’t apologize to me, Todd. Not now. Not over this.”

“But—“

“Stop.” He smiles, his own tears slipping over his smile wrinkles, “I don’t care what happened. I love you. And you did nothing wrong.” He squeezes Todd’s shoulders, “None of it happened. We’re all here. Because of you.”

“I still left. I said—I said awful things—“

“You didn’t say anything you didn’t have a right to say,” Quentin interrupts. “Stop trying to apologize. You’re here, that’s all that matters.”

“Is Mar—mom, mad at me?”

Quentin’s eyes dart away, face falling. “Listen—“

“I just want to see her, you know?” Todd continues, “Even if she is. I’ll make it up to her. I just—I never got to see her grow old before—“

“Todd,” Julia tries.

Todd ignores her, barreling on. “And that last day—I think I may have disappeared without saying goodbye. So she’s probably peeved about that. Even though it meant that—“

“Todd, stop,” Fen says, leaning across the table to grab his hand. “You’ve got to stop, bunny.”

He frowns. “What? Why?” He looks around the table, but they’re all looking at him with the same, strange sad look on their faces. “Why are you—“ Fen’s lips twitch, and he jerks away from the table. “Why are you looking at me like that?” They just keep staring at him, and he stumbles backwards another step. “Don’t—don’t look at me like that. Stop it.”

Quentin stands up, holding a hand out between them. “Todd, it’s—“

“Where is my mother?”

“Todd—“

“Where the fuck is my mother?”

Quentin moves in closer, like he’s approaching a wild animal. “Just come sit back down and we’ll—“

“No. Because she should—“ His gaze darts around the room. Across the table, to the thrones, and back. “She should—“ He points at the throne, “That should—“ He stops, hands dropping to his side, and face falling as his looks at his fathers. “It should have . . .” His mouth falls open and he doesn’t even realize his legs have given way until Quentin rushes forward and catches him before he falls.

Quentin holds most of his weight as they fall to the ground. His arms wrap around the entirety of Todd’s body, holding him from shoulder to shoulder.

“It didn’t work.”

Quentin shakes his head against him, “No,” He murmurs, “I’m sorry, Todd.”

“I don’t understand.”

The rest of his family slowly pushes away from the table, and move to kneel on the ground around them, Eliot taking the empty space to his left while Quentin stays on his right. Fen and Julia each reach out and take one of his hands from their places. Alice, Josh and Penny take up the empty space around him.

“I bit her,” Josh says, “When you weren’t there in the morning, we all kind of assumed that meant this was the right way to do things.”

“That or you ran away.” Eliot adds, bumping his shoulder against Todd’s, “But Margo made it clear that you’d been through too much to give up when we were so close. So we kept the appointment with the pack.”

“And I bit Margo.”

“We thought it worked,” Julia says, “But not long after that, we had some . . . other major stuff to deal with it.”

“I know that,” Todd mutters, leaning into Quentin. He feels a little faint. “That doesn’t explain why it didn’t work.”

“Once we were all back to ourselves, we didn’t know what we’d done—“

“Except Margo,” Julia interrupts, “She made me exclude her from the compulsion.”

Todd sits up, jerking his gaze over to her. “What?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “She made a strong argument about if these things don’t work, she wanted to still have the opportunity to be there for her son. I was a goddess at the time . . . I couldn’t deny her that. A mothers love for her son is the strongest magic. At least I think I remember thinking that.”

“We didn’t know we needed to try again.”

“And she got sick.”

Quentin nods. “And she got sick.”

Before he can reply, the throne room doors burst open, and Kady crashes through with a toddler on her hip. “You will not believe what I just re—“ She stops short, staring at them from the other side of table. “Either you all remembered what I just remembered, or you’re just real high today.”

Todd looks up at her, and the blonde boy on her hip. “Is that my nephew?”

She takes a deep breath and nods. “Well that answers that,” She says. “And the question of why the hell I just remembered everything all at once.”

“I’m so glad you know whats happening,” Penny says, staring up at her a little helplessly, “Because I have no fucking clue what’s going on right now.”

“Oh shit,” Josh chirps, sitting up, and leveling him with a stare. “You were dead when everything went down.” He looks back at Julia and Alice, adding. “It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t know that I almost killed everyone.”

Penny’s eyes go comically wide. “You did what.” And Josh flinches like he knows he should have said it out loud.

“It’s a long story, we’ll talk about it later,” Julia says, settling a hand on his shoulder gently. “It’s why we’re not screaming at Todd for running off after Quentin was a jack ass.”

“I was wondering why nobody tried to kick his ass when he walked through the door like nothing happened.” He harrumphs, “He said he was severing all contact with the royal family. He’s just lucky I didn’t—“

“Okay, Penny,” Julia chastises, squeezing his shoulder, “We all know you’re an emotionless rock, you don’t need to prove yourself.” She raises one eyebrow as he frowns, before a smile tugs at the edges of her lips. Penny rolls his eyes, and reaches around to wrap an arm around her waist.

Todd laughs halfheartedly with his family, letting Quentin and Eliot hug him to them. At least he has this. All of them, together. Laughing and joking. Eating breakfast like nothings happened. It makes sense.

Because, to them, Margo died more than a decade ago. Nearly two.

But for Todd? He can still feel her pulling the blanket up and over them and forcefully telling him to go to sleep. For him, it was less an hour ago.

He finds her where he left her.

The token spot in the royal tombs. Apparently, before she died, she told anyone and everyone that listened that she’d better be cremated. He remembers Eliot saying she was too pretty to rot, anyways, but that he wasn’t going to not grant her one dying wish. She still has a spot in the tombs, though, at the center of Coldwaughson legacy stone. A plaque made of some of Fillory’s finest gems, and rarest metals, raised above the stone.

He stands in front of it, ignoring the tears that slip over his cheeks.

Somehow he feels like he’s failed her. She’d probably punch him, if she were here. No, there’s no probably about it. She’d tell him to stop crying, and then when doesn’t, she’d just punch him in the arm. She’d say she’s pissed about being dead, but that they got to know each other. That he shouldn’t be so sad.

She’s been dead almost his entire life. It shouldn’t hurt this much.

But he can still see her, clear as day in his memory, laughing at Quentin, or stressing about Eliot. Pretending not to care, and curling up under the blankets when it all gets to be too much.

People say he’s like Eliot. A perfect reflection of his father. And he’d believed them. Because he didn’t know her; didn’t know he could be like her.

He’s as quick to a temper she was. Quick to judge, and even quicker too, to care about people. Scared to show it, even. Full of love, unsure of how to express it. That’s one of the big takeaways, he thinks. He’d known she was the best monarch Fillory’s ever known. He knew she loved her family deeply. He knew her from his families memories, so his memories of her were tinged with their own bias’. Of which, there were many.

She was too brash. Too argumentative. Too sexual. Too demanding.

For every person in his family, and even out of it, Margo was always too much something.

Maybe it’s different for him. Maybe it’s because she’s his mother.

But Margo wasn’t too much anything. She was loud, and opinionated. Kind and courageous. Everything he always imagined she’d be. Her hugs were warm and sure. And even at the darkest moments, she didn’t leave him to fend for himself. Even when she couldn’t even be sure he was who he said he was.

“I thought I’d find you in here.” Todd sniffles, clearing his throat and looking over his shoulder. Eliot smiles apologetically. “You okay?”

Todd shrugs, turning his attention back on the plaque. God, he’s not ready for a moment alone with him.“I don’t know,” He murmurs. “I—I did it. But I still feel like I failed.”

“I figured as much,” Eliot says, soft, as he moves to stand next to him. He holds out an orchid, “Do you want to replace the old one for me? I’m getting old, and reaching up so high is just too much work.”

It’s a weak lie, but Todd looks at the purple orchid for a long moment before nodding and shakily taking the orchid with one hand, and wiping at his nose with his other. “I know I should be happy,” He says, as he turns away from him and plucks the decaying orchid from the landing and replacing it with the fresh one. “But it just. Feels like I don’t get to be happy. Like I can’t—“

Eliot places a hand on his shoulder, effectively silencing him, and gently takes the old orchid from his hand and sets it down on the table with the candles. “Let’s sit down,” He murmurs, turning him around to lead him towards the bench not a foot away. Todd follows silently, and sits down when prompted.

They sit in silence for a moment, staring up at Margo’s headstone.

“When your mother died,” Eliot finally says, “It was during the happiest time of our lives. We didn’t think she’d actually die, because it’s Margo, and god, does she endure whatever the universe throws at her.” He shrugs a shoulder, and Todd almost misses the tears in his eyes as he looks away. “We thought we were at the high point. Our kingdom was finally thriving, and we had a family. We had you. And for once, there were no magical, or nonmagical, threats trying to take it away.”

He pauses, taking a few deep breaths, like he’s trying to level himself out and be strong for Todd, before finally turning his gaze back on him. “The day your mother died, felt like my soul had been ripped in half. Like I could never be whole again.” He reaches forward and cups Todd’s cheek. “I know I’m terrible at showing it, Todd. But you and Quentin. You stitched me back together. You are my entire world, kid.”

“Dad—“

“No, let me—just. Let me.” He twists on the bench so he can cup both of Todd’s cheeks, and looks him in the eye. “I remember what you told me, the night before you disappeared. And I am so, so sorry that I’ve made you feel like you’re not enough. Because, trust me, please, Todd. Trust me when I say, you are more than enough. You are twice the man I could ever be—“

Todd’s chin trembles, and he reaches up to wrap his hands around Eliot’s wrist. “I—no. Dad. I was just—“

“Stop talking for a second, god,” He forces a smile with a roll of his eyes, which is muted by the tears it forces down and over his cheeks, “You talk so much, half the time I think you’re Quentin’s.”

Todd makes a choked off sound that’s part laugh, part sob, and squeezes Eliot’s wrists tighter.

“You don’t know how proud I am of you.” Eliot nods, holding on tighter as Todd tries to pull away so Eliot doesn’t have to see how close that brings him to breaking down. “Of the man you’ve become. Of your strength, and your courage.” He brushes his thumb over Todd’s cheek, swiping away the tears there. “Of everything you’ve done. I am so fucking proud of you.”

Todd breaks then, because of course he does. And he pulls away, just enough that he can separate them so he can bury his face in Eliot’s chest. The tears come fast and heavy, blanketed with sobs as Eliot holds him. He knows he’s not the only one crying, though, because his shirt grows damper by the second, where Eliot’s face is tucked into on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry dad—“

“Stop apologizing,” Eliot chokes out, sound muffled by the hoarseness of his voice, and Todd’s shirt. He pulls away, holding Todd by the shoulders. “I need you to know something else.” He nods, once, like he’s serious. “Margo? She wouldn’t want you to be sad. Because you know what she’s doing right now, Todd?”

“What?”

“She’s probably making all the dead guys in the underworld worship her on their knees, and taking as many suitable lovers as she wants.” He nods, as Todd makes a face, “She’s probably the new ruler of the under world at this point. Honestly. Hades who?”

“God, that’s gross.”

Eliot just laughs through his tears, nodding. “Maybe for you. Honestly, I’m rooting for her. Her favorite vibe died on her thr—“

“No!” Todd exclaims wide eyed, “Please dear god, don’t finish that sentence.”

Eliot closes his mouth, before grinning, and pulling Todd back in for another hug. “I’m glad you’re home, kid. We missed you.”

Todd swallows, wrapping his arms around his waist and nodding into the crook of Eliot’s neck. “I missed you, too.”

By the time he gets done meeting his nephew, and updating Penny on what exactly happened—and getting crushed in a hug so tight, he fears his ribs will bruise from Penny—the suns set, and his aunts and uncles have retired to their own rooms. Luckily, not much has changed in that respect.

Kady’s still married to Julia and Penny. Her relationship with Josh hadn’t been as explosively important as the vision quest the fairy queen sent him on made it seem. Them falling out of love with each other didn’t really affect anything. It just opened the door for one big polyamorous family. Josh met a girl from the village that, unlike a lot of Fillorian’s, didn’t see a problem with his lycanthropy. That’s the biggest change. The three of them sharing a tower in the castle with their toddler, Alex.

Everything else is exactly as he left it.

Which is why he isn’t surprised to find Quentin sitting alone in the armory reading one of the Fillory and Further books.

“Weren’t you the one that told me reading in the dark is bad for your eyes?” He asks, stepping through the doorway, hesitant. He’s not really sure how to act around him anymore.

But Quentin looks up, and his gaze is no different than it’s been all of Todd’s life. The only difference now, is that Todd takes the time to appreciate it. To bask it in. How had he been so naive before? It’s so blatant and clear how much Quentin loves him. It’s practically settling in the air.

He offers a tired smile. “I’ve got old person eyes. It doesn’t matter if my vision goes bad.” He scoots to the side and motions for Todd to sit with him. “Because when I inevitably go blind, I have a son who can do all my reading for me. Right?”

Todd nods, smiling softly as he takes the seat next to him. “Anytime you want.”

Quentin closes the book, and stares down at the cover for a long moment. Neither of them speak for a few minutes, until Quentin let’s out a shaky breath and breaks the silence with, “I owe you an apology.”

Todds head jerks up. “What? No—you definitely don’t.”

Quentin shakes his own head, turning to look at him. “I never should have made such a ridiculous demand, Todd.”

“But I—“

“You had every right to react the way you did.”

Todd stands up, flipping around to face him. “No. I didn’t.” He holds a hand out between them. “Stop, dad. Listen to me.” He kneels down in front of him, and stares up at him. “My entire life . . . I. I have taken you for granted.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Todd.”

“No. I have.” Quentin opens his mouth like he’s going to respond, but Todd shakes his head. “Stop. I’ve—I’ve never appreciated all that you’ve done for me. So, you can’t apologize, because I’m apologizing.” He nods mostly to himself, “So, yeah.”

“Alright,” Quentin says after a loaded minute, before nodding as well, and holding his hands out. “Get up. We have to do something.”

“Huh?”

He stands up and continues holding his hands out. “Up, Todd. Today.” Todd takes his hands and allows himself to be pulled up, raising an eyebrow at Quentin. “You, me and Eliot have a trip to go on.”

“What?” He frowns, taking a step back. Maybe all the niceness is a ploy to get him out to the middle of nowhere and abandon him, like he abandoned them—

“Stop thinking crazy things,” Quentin chastises, bumping against the back of the head playfully, “Nobody thinks you abandoned them.”

“I didn’t say I—“

“You didn’t need to.” He smiles and turns towards the hall, “Come on. Eliot’s already on the Muntjac waiting for us.”

“Where are we going exactly?”

Quentin shrugs, not bothering to look back. “Well, you’re the one with a secret girlfriend out there, so I’d imagine you’re going to be setting the itinerary.”

“Wait,” Todd stops in the doorway, “What?”

“No time to waste, Todd. Come on.”

“We can’t just—show up!”

“Sure we can,” Quentin glances over his shoulder at him. “You love her don’t you?”

“I mean—yeah. I just. Don’t you think—that I should. Just be around my family right now? Considering, you know—“ He waves his arms around frantically, “Everything?” Not to mention he’s not even sure he ever loved her, if his reaction to seeing her during the vision quest is anything to go by.

He nods. “You could do that,” He murmurs, “But there’s a box of letters from your mother that we were explicitly told not to give you until we meet the woman you love when you’re twenty three.” He furrows his eyebrows, looking thoughtful. “I think you’re twenty three, and in love, now, aren’t you?”

A box of letters? From Margo? “You can’t—“ He splutters, “That’s—that’s extortion!”

“Is it?”

“Yes! And It’s illegal!”

Quentin nods again. “Maybe,” He murmurs, turning his attention forward and continuing down the hallway, with a careful, “But we are the royal family,” called over his shoulder.

Todd blinks. Before letting his head hang for a moment and then following after Quentin.

Better sooner than later, he guesses, on figuring out if he actually loves her, or it was some stupid defiant bullshit on his part.

If it’s the latter, he’s just going to feel worse for dragging his parents halfway across the world.

He shouldn’t be surprised that they’re all waiting on the Muntjac, and not just Eliot.

But, somehow, he is.

And they shouldn’t be surprised when he’s so overcome with emotion, that he bursts into tears as soon as he sees them.

He doesn’t think they’re all that surprise, though. Because they envelope him in a weather tight hug that fills him to the brim with warmth.

He’s not sure why it surprises him when he dreams of their deaths the first night on the Muntjac. But he wakes up to Kady shaking him awake, while the rest of his family stares on worriedly. It takes him a few minutes to realize that this is real. That his dream was the lie.

That they never died.

They all sleep on the floor after that, a big pile of bodies with Todd at the center.

Two days later, he stands on the dock, staring across the village with shaking hands. He thinks he might throw up. Eliot settles a hand on his shoulder and grins down at him. “Lead the way, kid,” He says. Todd looks to his right, at Quentin, and takes a deep breath.

He doesn’t have to lead them far, though.

Because, like a cruel twist of fate—

He crashes into her as she’s chasing after her little sister through the market. He looks down at her, heart stopping and restarting as she opens her eyes and looks up at him.

One glance. That’s all it takes for him to remember he loves her. Actually—truly.

It washes over him fast and violent; a tsunami of love that he’s going to drown in if he isn’t careful.

“Oh. I’m so—“ She stops as she pulls away, slow realization dawning. Then, she shoves him backwards, glaring as her eyebrows furrow angrily. “You absolute—you—“ Her eyes go wide, mouth slamming shut so hard and fast that he can hear her teeth clank together as she moves backwards a step. “Your majesty,” She breathes, bowing slightly. “I can explain—“

Todd frowns, slightly, before realizing how this must look to her and moving forward. “Sofia—stop. You don’t need to—“

She doesn’t stop bowing, but she does open her eyes and look up, defiant. “You disappear after—after—“ Her eyes dart to his family, all crowded around them, and then back to him, locking her eyes on his. “After what you said. How shall I be expected to behave, crown prince?”

He winces. “I can explain.”

“You are royalty,” She says, finally moving to stand again, “We all know royalty isn’t expected to explain themselves.”

“I like her,” Kady says from behind him. “She’s feisty. Won’t take any of his shit.”

Sofia’s eyes dart behind him, flicking between him and his family. “What’s going on?” She asks after a moment. “Why—Todd, have you brought the entire royal court here?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah. They, uh. They wanted to meet you.”

Her eyes go wide, as she finally zeroes in on him. He can see the confusion settling in them. And the slow, cautious realization as she straightens out her shoulders. The anger’s still there, sizzling beneath the surface. “You told them about me.” It’s not even a question. She’s too smart.

God, he loves her.

“Kind of?” He says. She tilts her head, and he cautiously takes a step closer to her. “Something happened, and I had to—to fix it. And that meant—“ He pauses, frowning. “I don’t really know how to—“

Penny moves through his family and leans in, “He traveled back in time to save us all from a really shitty death.” He glances at Todd, “You’re welcome.” And then he disappears as Kady and Julia yank him back, muttering something Todd can’t hear. One of them slap him upside the back of the head. He’s willing to wager that it’s Kady.

Sofia stares at them for a long moment. “I—don’t know what I’m expected to say to that.”

“Nothing,” Todd says, shaking his head and taking another step towards her. She doesn’t back away, which, he hopes, is a good sign. “I want to say something, though.” He holds a hand out to her. She looks down at it, and back up to him, before sighing and taking it. Todd smiles. “I’d like to introduce you to my family.”

“Didn’t we agree—“

“I was an idiot.”

“Perhaps. But I’m still not—“

“I’m not asking you to. I just—I want you to be a part of my life. And to be a part of yours.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “That was gross.”

He scoffs. “Says the woman who—“

“You wouldn’t dare--“ She starts, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

Behind him, he hears someone laugh, and he’s reminded of where they are. He pulls her into him, ignoring her shocked gasp, and holds her to him. “There’s—Sofia,” He says, “I really want you to meet my dad.”

“I’ve already met your father.”

He shakes his head. “No,” He breathes, turning them both around so he can face his family. “I want you to meet my dad.” Quentin’s standing beside Eliot, smiling softly. Oblivious. He glances at Eliot, nudging him with his shoulder. Eliot raises his eyebrows, corners of his mouth twitching as he looks down at Quentin. “Sofia,” Todd says, locking his gaze on Quentin. Quentin frowns, looking behind him, and then back. His mouth drops open slightly, as Alice pushes him forward. He stumbles a step before straightening out and stopping in front of Todd and Sofia. “This is my dad, Quentin. Dad,” He smiles, “This is Sofia.”

Quentin looks between the two of them.

His chin dimples like he’s trying not to cry, and he pulls his lower lip into his mouth, wrapping his arms around his waist and nodding. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sofia.” It sounds like he’s trying to remain regal, but his voices pitches halfway through the sentence, and Eliot moves forward to wrap an arm around his waist, lacing his fingers through Quentin’s at Quentins hip.

Sofia smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, your majesty.”

Quentin sniffles, shaking his head, “You don’t need to call me majesty. Just—you can. You can call me Quentin.”

“I’d be honored.”

Quentin’s eyes dart over to Todd. “I like her,” He says.

Todd grins. “So do I.”

Sofia looks up at him, rolling her eyes. “All right,” She says, “This doesn’t get you off the hook—“

“Trust me,” Todd replies, “I’m well aware.”

“Good. Then I’d like to invite you all to dinner.” She turns back to them, “It’s not exactly food fit for a king, but I’m told my fathers stew is the best in the village.”

Quentin and Eliot grin at her, “We aren’t picky,” Quentin says. Eliot makes a face, but Quentin subtly elbows him in the ribs. “We’re just happy to get to know the woman Todd loves.”

Sofia looks back at Todd, smile tugging at her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

He stares down at her, something warm and kind tugging at his heart for once, nodding. “So do I,” He repeats, reaching down to lace his fingers through hers. “I’d also like to talk to your sister, before she takes it upon herself to throw rocks at my head for disappearing.”

“I think that can be arranged.” She glances back at his family, “Follow me. Father will be pleased to have guests.”

Later, when his belly is full of stew, and Sofia’s off talking to Alice and Fen, gathering stories from Todd’s childhood, he makes his way to the beach to stare across the water.

He wonders if he’ll ever forget what happened.

Part of him wants to.

Wants to erase their deaths from his memory entirely. Forget the vision quest the fairy queen sent him on. Forget his family hating him for a year. Forget the hopelessness. Forget walking into the throne room that day. Being crowned king. Meeting Jane in the woods. He just wants to leave it all in the past, and pretend he never went back. To be the Todd he was before his family died and he brought them back.

But there’s another part; stronger and smarter that knows he needs to keep it with him. Hold it close to his heart. Not just because he got to know his mother. Not just because he learned her quirks and bad habits, and actually felt her love coursing through him. Or because he finally got to Earth. Or because he met Jane Chatwin. Nothing so obvious.

He has to keep it. Has to hold onto the memories, like his dads did with their separate timeline, because it changed him. Sure, it broke him down, and took everything good in his life and crushed it to dust. But it changed him. For the better.

His family won’t admit it. Not even Penny. But, before, he was selfish. Spoiled.

Before, he only put himself first.

Before, he didn’t even care about Quentin, not really. Not in a way that counted.

He didn’t know how to. Didn’t know he needed to.

He didn’t know a life without their unconditional love.

Now he does. He knows what it is to be on the outside. To bare the weight of the universe on his shoulders. To watch his family die. To have his mothers love. And to be the one they can count on.

He looks over his shoulder at his family. They’re talking and laughing with Sofia and her family. He can’t believe he doubted loving her; not when she’s standing so near, smiling. Not when they’re looking at her like she belongs. Like she could one day be his bride.

He swallows thickly, smiling to himself, and looks back across the beach to the water.

A few days ago, he’d have sworn he’d never be happy again.

It’s going to be a while before he heals completely. Before he stops having nightmares. Before he stops waking up, shocked to find his family laughing and smiling and alive. Before he can really believe it’s all over.

But, at least right now, he can admit to himself that he’s going to be okay.

They all are.

#lifeboat #the magicians #riz writes #I SWEAR IF IT DOESNT POST CORRECTLY THIS TIME I AM GOING TO SPONTANEOUSLY FUCKING COMBUST

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rosey-writes · 5 years

Text

The Alchemist Tributes: Book One

Questioning

Demand Answers

There used to be a library around here. And by ‘used to’, I mean before Panem even existed. I mean back in the days before the floods and quakes and some apocalyptic, omnipresent being called ‘Taylor Swift’. Before the Dark Days were even an idea. Back in some place called ‘America’.

I learned about it on one of the many, many runs from my dad. This isn’t a sob story, I’m not special because I have daddy issues and mommy got shot. I was too young to remember her anyway, and I’d be far from unique. But, I was still a child running away from his problems.

There are next to no natural areas in District 1, unless you count the trimmed, plastic gardens spaced in the richer neighborhoods. The whole place was paved over, factories, lakes wherever the eye could see. And so, the polluted little lake in the middle of the poorest part of our city was where I went. Sitting by the water, I’d dipped my feet in, because I was young and stupid and hadn’t heard the word cholera before; when my feet brushed something plastic. I’d leaned down, pulling it from the water, and inside was a book, shrink-wrapped in a sealed container, words Yorkwood Library stamped across the cover. With a bit of digging, I found three more, each with the same stamp. From then on, time to time I came back to that lake, occasionally dredging some scraps to acknowledge that yes, the world was, in fact, always this shitty.

Regardless, in my sessions of grey-area treason, I came the concept of ‘karma’. And, as I am realizing at this very moment she is, in fact, a bitch.

Yeah, as I was marched into the justice building, locked in the visiting room, left to stew in my own misery, a small voice in the back of my head reminded me that, alright, maybe this is a teensy tiny bit entirely my own fault. That maybe, when you’re a dick to everyone you meet, they just might take the opportunity to get rid of you.

However, that doesn’t make me want to kill them any less.

Quite honestly, I was expecting I wouldn’t get a single visitor, until Illias stormed through the doors, the wood cracking back against the concrete. “What is wrong with you?!”

“Yes, it’s my fault I was voted-” the first landed on my cheek landed before I could even react, wincing, clutching it as a peacekeeper snapped Illias from behind, handcuffing them together with a mutter of ‘no injuring the tribute.’

Like a rabid mutt, kicking and screaming, his skin bled red from trying to twist to pull his arms away as a second peacekeeper came to subdue him. “This was my turn, mine! I should be in there! Let go of me, they can’t take him if he’s dead!” As he was dragged out, I stayed glued to the couch, wondering if winning really was such a great idea anymore. Maybe I should just let him rip my colon through my nose. It may just be quicker at this point.

After he was gone, my father came in, Bravon stomping, Satin following like a kicked puppy at their heels.

Clearing his throat, Aren sat, face impassive. “So.”

There was a long, long pause, before Bravon decided to break the silence with a stomp. “You just had to spite us, didn’t you? You couldn’t let Illias have this, you just had to go and take it for yourself.”

“He can have it back. Please take it off my hands.” It was hard to keep the desperation from bleeding into my voice. I couldn’t be weak, not now, not until I was alone in the train.

“This isn’t funny.” He slammed his hands down in a way that was so Illias like, he had to have practiced. Big brother worship at it’s finest. “You’re going to die in there. He would have won.”

“Nice to know that’s why you don’t want me going in-”

“You never seemed to mind him dying, any of us dying, you never seem to care about mom, you never cared about Ale-”

“You expect me to have that much of an attachment to a woman I practically never met?” I could hear the waver, my pitch going up, volume going down, fists clenching behind my back. This wasn’t going to last. And he did not dare to bring up - stop. “What makes you so certain I won’t win?”

The silence said more than any ‘Bambi.’

“I can’t believe you.” Turning out, Bravon stormed through the doors. All that was left was dad and Satin.

“Son.” Aren stood, staring down at me. “You know how I feel. And you know how I feel about your brother. Don’t dishonor this family anymore. Win with dignity, or don’t come home at all.” And there he went. All that was left was Satin.

Biting his lip, Satin fidgeted in his seat, checking the door like some monster would spring and attack him.

“I know you can win.”

What? He said it so quietly, I...I couldn’t have heard it right.

“I know you can, Eli, I know it. They know it to. It’s why they’re angry, you’re taking Illias’s glory.” A small smile came to Satin’s face. “You’re going to outsmart them.”

With a slight gulp, I tried to keep my eyes from widening. “I…”

“Stunned? The great, verbose Eliot? I’ll take it as a victory.” Satin patted my shoulder, standing. “I love you, little bro. Go get’m. Size isn’t everything, right?” He glanced to the door again. “And don’t tell dad, but, I’m quitting the Academy.”

What? No. He. What?

“Mister Deamorte. He’s looking for an assistant, and Fiyero told me he said if I applied, I’d get it on the spot.” Today was just getting more and more confusing. I wanted to ask why, but, well… it was nice, having at least one person say they were rooting for me.

“I love you too.” With a sad smile, I pulled Satin into a hug. More than a little awkward, considering he had a full head on me, but I needed it. I’ve never needed it before. Right now, I needed it more than anything.

The peacekeeper on the other side knocked “Times up.”

With a shuddering breath, I pulled back. “Hey, Satin.”

“Yeah?”

I gave a small smile. “You get my room.”

---

Minutes later, I was in the car. I caught my reflection in the mirror, bruises blossoming on my cheek, hair splayed at every angle. I looked beaten, broken, and more than anything else, pissed. And, sadly, not in the strong, rage-filled vengeance quest I wanted. More like a petulant child.

I didn’t have any makeup, so I reached into my backpack, pulling out my hooded jacket, shoving the suit aside. Throwing it on, I pulled the strings so it covered my face. Alright, that works. When I went to put the pack back down, I heard the clink of glass.

Oh, right, I brought the perfumes.

With a sigh, I picked one up. Chamomile peppermint and a dash of rosemary, to calm anxiety and up your energy. I liked it, but it was far from popular. With a slight smile, I sprayed it on. I felt my shoulders relax, eyes drifting shut.

A few minutes later, I was shoved into the horde of paparazzi, vultures, whatever you can imagine. My face was hidden by the hood, thankfully. I hoped it came off dangerous, but I’m pretty sure I just looked scared shitless. Especially next to Amazonia; six foot two, with those grass green eyes that showed just how much she couldn’t wait to gouge out my own, muddy brown. I managed to glance in the reflection of one of the car windows and dear God. I looked like a terrified child hiding behind his mother. A mother who wants to eat him, but hey, that describes lots of kids here.

Mercifully, we were pushed through the doors, which shut behind us. I was alone, finally… okay, well, I wasn’t alone, there were Capitol people everywhere, plus Amazonia, but I was as alone as I was going to get until they gave me a room. So, I pulled down my hood, sighing in relief as the train began to move.

… And to stop again in another ten minutes.

Look, we’re on a Capitol trains, which go what, 250 MPH? From District 1, we’d be there in an hour. The Capitol doesn’t want that, they want all the tributes arriving on the same day, so the train sits here twenty four hours, as we twiddle our thumbs like schmucks.

Soon I was led to my room, which… wow… this… I was not expecting this. The walls were a lush glittery gold, muted enough a shade that it calmed instead of glared. The sheets were plush enough I thought they were actual clouds, a small window hanging above the bed showed the forest landscape I never thought I’d see. Pulling open the drawer, it was stuffed with thick wool, silk, cashmere everything. I’d never seen anything so luxurious.

Now, I live - lived, I corrected myself, then changed it back to live because I’m winning this thing damn it - in Victor’s Village, which is nice. Extremely nice. I figured I had as high a life as one could get, though I never took much advantage of it. As soon as dad dies I’d be kicked out. Even if one of my brothers won the games, there’s not a doubt in my mind they would have me arrested if I came over for tea.

… Except… apparently Satin.

Plopping down on the bed, I brought my knees to my chest, because this made no sense. Satin, I knew he was the smartest, I suspected he had more to life ahead of him than murder, but, well… I was never nice to Satin. I was probably worse to him than any of my other brothers, because Illias could step on me, and Bravon was a slightly smaller Illias. Satin, while still stronger than me and a good head, well, ahead, he never gave the same danger reading. I guess that made him the easier target.

Karma.

Honestly, the fact that he visited me, it made this so, so much worse. Because I could just run on rage before. I could blindly charge in because I had nothing to lose, everything to prove, and my only reason for coming home was to rub it in their faces. But now, Satin cared. Now I was going to have to deal with this guilt in the back of my mind. It’s so foreign to me, caring, and of course the first time I get it is right before I have to slit a twelve-year-old’s throat.

With a sigh, I stood again, heading into the bathroom. The shower was… I can’t even begin to describe this thing. The amount of buttons made it look like someone dropped an octopus tentacle in chrome. Well, I guess that does more than begin to describe it.

That wasn’t what I was looking for, though. After a bit of digging, I managed to find some makeup in the drawers. Half my face was plum colored now, ached at the slightest prod. My shoulder seemed popped too, and as the prod began to fade I felt the ache flowing through me. Gritting my teeth, I applied the cover-up, just enough to hide any evidence of getting clocked in the face. I’m sure my design team will have much better for this, and I was far from the best with makeup.

Though I know someone who is.

Ah, there, that’s something I can get behind thinking about. Fiyero Deamorte. All the things I was going to do to that brat when I saw him. This was his fault, all of it, I know it. As soon as it was announced, he turned to all his little followers, who turned to theirs, and that’s why everyone voted for me. I mean, I piss off a lot of people, but not enough to swing the entire youth population of a District to just write off the male candidate for victory. No, the only person with that kind of mind-control is same one who couldn’t spell it.

Soon, there was a knock at my door, offering to lead me to the dining room. I quickly stripped off my outfit, throwing on a pair that was labeled ‘sweatpants’ and a loose cotton shirt that felt like it didn’t exist. Seriously, I had to check the mirror five times to be sure I wasn’t actually naked. It was a strange sensation.

Then I’m led- dragged- to the table, large oak wood with golden finishing, with a white tablecloth. I wanted to take the moment to be impressed, but, instead, I just wanted to run back to the safety of my room because Amazonia was staring again.

“So you came, huh? Thought you would’ve offed yourself with a scarf by now, save us all the trouble.”

“Now, come on, you know nothing gives me more joy than being a pain in the ass.” I sat down across from her, rather impressed with the fact I didn’t actually melt into a pile on the floor.

“Smart. Smart’s not going to do you much good when there’s a sword in your gut.”

“Well I-”

“Tributes.” Lamar cleared his throat from behind me, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t jump. But I’m a liar, so, I did not jump.

“Finally, someone I can actually talk to.” Amazonia crossed her legs, clicking her tongue.

Sitting down at the head, Lamar cleared his throat. “First, we’ll get our food, then, we’ll begin to talk strategy.”

“We’re missing two people.” From everything I’d ever heard or read, the escort and other mentor join you for your meal.

“They’re…” There was the sound of shattered glass, a cheer, and loud laughter far down the hallways. “Occupied for now.”

Lovely.

Within a few moments, the meal began to arrive, and, I say this as one of the richest people, in the richest District, our most victorious lifespans yet, this is by far more food than I’d ever seen. I could see Amazonia outright salivating. Sometimes I forget, even in our District, more than a few people don’t get enough to eat.

But still, I didn’t even know this many types of food existed. I couldn’t recognize half the meats or vegetables, anything, really. They all just paraded in front of my eyes, and I knew now was not the time to try out a new fad diet, they’re called the Hunger Games for a reason, and with my metabolism, I would have about twenty minutes before I starved at my weight.

About halfway through them bringing out the first course, though, these little, for lack of a better term, white balls came out, sprinkled with green herbs - garlic, I was later told - with a cup of liquid butter next to it. I admit, I was interested.

They were the single best thing I have ever experienced in my life. Not the best food. The best anything. I’m rather sure they will forever be the best thing I will experience, sorry to any future children who are unfortunate enough to share my DNA, their birth will be about a four in comparison to this. Needless to say, I ordered another six rounds.

When all the food was brought, Lamar placed down his fork and knife. “Down to business. First, what skills do you have?”

Amazonia cracked her knuckles, and that’s when I noticed she’d actually sharpened her canines. Are you kidding me. “Are there any skills I don’t have?”

“Be specific, please.”

“Throwing knives, swords, spears, clubs, climbing, and tracking were all A subjects for me. I graduated top of the class every year I was in.”

Lamar gave a slow nod, jotting notes down in a small black book. “Swift?” I wasn’t sure if I should be glad or angry about the fact this man who’s known me since I could breathe seemed to have zero emotional attachment to my fate.

“I…” What could I say here? “Chemistry.”

Amazonia started to cackle, but Lamar glanced to her, and she stifled it with her napkin. “Anything else? Anything you have experience in?”

“Just chemistry.”

“... Chemistry,” he repeated in a low, incredulous voice. “Your skillset for a game of murder is chemistry?” And in that moment, I knew I no longer had a mentor.

After the meal, we’re led to another compartment where the TV takes up the entire wall. Lamar skips District 1, saving it for last. I want to complain, but, he’s just about the only person I can’t afford to hate me. Don’t care about me, fine, he wasn’t getting me any sponsors anyway, but on the astronomical chance someone does want to donate, I don’t want him refusing.

District 2 is even more terrifying than usual. They picked their best and brightest, no doubt, both boy and girl. And… I admit to possibly staring at the boy a bit longer than I should have. Shut up, I’m about to die, leave me alone. Only interesting thing from District 3 is the girl is twelve, possibly the only one my height and weight, so I can’t even begin to imagine what horrible things she did to get her name on the ballot. District 4 is like District 2, the District 5 boy broke down crying on the spot, District 6 boy did some strange hand thing, District 11 recruited a girl I think is an actual giant, and District 12 has just given up on ever winning again since their humiliation, because they sent up two fourteen-year-olds who barely knew what was going on. But, it’s still me and District 3 tied for smallest.

Finally, everything was brought back to District 1… and it was so much worse than I thought.

“They’re really sending up a twelve-year-old?”

“So sad, really, but what can you do, these things happen.”

“Oh, oh, oh, did you hear! He’s a Swift!”

“No way, like, the Aren Swift? I heard one of his sons was going up this year.”

“Just not the one everyone was looking for.”

“Aww, but look how cute he is, he’s swearing. It’s always so adorable when little kids try to sound grown up.”

My face was burning red, visible even through the makeup, and I knew Amazonia didn’t miss it. The look on Lamar’s face cemented it. I had no shot of getting help from him.

When I was led back to my bed, I was forced to look, objectively, at my circumstance. I was outmatched, outclassed in every possible way, I had no mentor, no chance of sponsors,

Amazonia would be gunning for me for bragging rights back home, I have zero survival skills that would actually apply to the games, and absolutely no one is rooting for me back home, except a brother who will get a beating if he says it.

I have this big rallying speech somewhere in my head, that it doesn’t matter everything is against me, an underdog chant, that I’ll win anyway, I’ll show karma who’s really a bitch. But it felt hollow, it felt fake even to me.

This is my time to cry. This is all I’ll have time for, because I won’t have much of it left. Whether that be through death or trauma.

So, I let it go. This was it, my chance to let go of years of pent-up hatred, guilt, you fucking name it. Towards what, I don’t know. For being small, for being temperamental, for never being good enough, for always knowing how I treated people was wrong but just never being able to stop my mouth before it moved. I didn’t know what the tears were for, pity for myself, anger at the world, maybe a bit of both. They were hot on my face, felt like someone cut open my eyes and let the blood drip down, thick and heavy down my cheeks, leaving wells in their wake. The water dripped onto the cloth, making it stick to my skin, and I could feel it, feel it cling to me, like it was trying to attack me, like everyone else.

Even if I survive this, I’m dead. There is no going home. There is no home anymore. Illias will never forgive me for taking what he worked his whole life for, Bravon never liked me to begin with, dad, I never told dad I loved him, that I cared, because he was just always there and the thought never crossed my mind that one day he just won’t. And Satin, if he’s smart, he’ll stay as far away from me if he can. I was alone before, I thought I was, but this is a new sort of alone. The last one was self-imposed, this is permanent.

And it’s all my fault. This is all my fault. As I slept, as I dreamed, I knew that one word would forever be burned into my bone marrow.

Karma.

#Hunger Games #Hunger games fanfic #Hunger games fanfiction #Eliot Swift #Amazonia Rhodes #The Alchemist Tributes

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sadlittlenerdking · 6 years

Text

Lifeboat

The Magicians (mainly Queliot, but all ships on the show are canon)

Word count: 9.2k of ?

Chapter 1 of 3

Summary: After his family is massacred, Todd is given the opportunity to go back and find out why and how, and stop it from ever happening. (Alt. the todd is a time traveler au)

Warning: everyone’s dead, and everything that happened in canon (up to the end of season 3) is canon.

Sidenote: a super huge thank you to @eversall for beta reading this. Thank you!!

He stumbles across Jane Chatwin’s little clearing in the Fillorian woods shortly after being crowned king. The crown dangles from his fingertips, vague memories of it resting atop his father’s head flitting across his mind the closer to the tips of his fingers it gets, as he crosses the barrier. He only recognizes her because his family had described her and their heroics practically all his life. Remembers his father, former High King of Fillory, sneering at the ground and proclaiming her, “The ultimate anti-hero.” And when she looks up at him with shining eyes and a gentle smile, his other Dad’s words ring even louder. “Anti-hero or not. She’s the only reason we’re alive. So we’re thankful, El.” He can practically hear the two of them bickering as if they were standing right beside him, facing their past with him. But, of course they’re not. He’ll never stand side by side with them again. The crown in his hand, digging into his fingertips, is an unwelcome reminder of that fact. Jane clasps her hands in front of her. “Well,” she says, “Royalty. To what do I owe this honor?” He nearly scoffs. Honor? He’s only king because the rest of the Royal court was murdered, and he’d been off doing some meaningless task he can’t even remember. He’s only king because he’s the only option left. What honor does that belie? She tilts her head after a moment. “I see.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You didn’t need to, Todd.”

He blinks, unable to help the step back he takes. Forgive him if he’s wary of strangers, whether or not they’re heavily featured in his family’s stories, but said family was recently slaughtered by a group of well informed assassins. “You know my name?”

She nods. “You needn’t be afraid either. I wouldn’t harm you.” “Why not?” Shrugging, she turns her back to him and heads towards a plant in the back of the clearing. She hums thoughtfully as she picks up a pair of shears. “Because who else is going to fix this mess we’ve found ourselves in?” “I... I don’t understand.” Her shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh as she turns to face him again, the shears held at her side, “My dear. You’re going to save your family, obviously.” His heart practically stops in his chest as he rushes forward in three quick steps. He falls short, though, stopping suddenly. His family’s dead. Magic can’t turn back time. “That’s not possible.” “Of course it is.” “How?” “Honestly, it’s as if nobody’s told you who I am.” Before the week he’s had, he’d have laughed at the genuine offense she’s emanating at the thought of not being featured in his family’s stories. He used to laugh a lot. Kind of misses laughing at his father's and his aunts and uncles making petty, fond jabs at each other. He shakes his head, rolling his hands until the crown is sliding into the palm of his hand, the heavy stones each digging into the grooves of the skin there. It’s almost as if it’s trying to remind him that he’s not supposed to be king. That this isn’t his crown. Like the crown has its own mind and wants him to drop it, lest he wants to face its wrath. “You’re Jane Chatwin. The Watcher Woman,” he pauses, taking a moment to look down at the crown. His thumb runs over the largest stone, and he swallows thickly as he looks back up at her. “My father used to talk about how much he hates that you went for a pun. In your name.” She waves a hand, “The High King has a very limited imagination, is all.” “Had.” She tilts her head, hand moving up to rest on her hip. “I’ve met many people over the years, stumbling across the clearing.” She looks up at the sky through her eyelashes for a moment, before she snaps her gaze back to him, “Most of them speak kindly of the crown Prince’s infectious optimism. Why is it that I seem to be the only person missing out on it?” His hand forms a fist around the crown, and he nearly relishes in the sharp pain the gems shoot through his fingers. “Could have something to do with everyone I’ve ever loved being assassinated less than two days ago. Could also be the fact that I wasn’t even given time to mourn them before I was hounded by every member of the royal court insisting it’s ‘time to take the crown, Prince Todd.’ But you’re right.” He loosens his grip on the crown and takes a deep breath, before letting the all too familiar Royal Smile (trademark pending, of course) settle on his lips with ease. “I’m the king now. I should be playing the part of the happy king. I apologize.” She purses her lips before taking two steps forward and pointing at him. “Todd, my darling. Might that smile be real if I told you I’m going to send you back?” “To the castle? Probably not. They’re still cleaning blood off the throne room walls.” “No,” She pauses, furrowing her brow and dropping her hands to her sides, “Can’t they cast a spell to clear it up?” “The castles alive. It doesn’t want to let them go.” And neither do I. “I imagine you relate to the castle in that respect.” She clears her throat and continues on, “Back to the topic at hand. I’m going to send you to the past. Earth’s past, specifically.” “I’ve only been to Earth once,” He says, without meaning to. It’d always been a point of contention between him and his family. He wanted to see where they came from, but they couldn’t go back, and wouldn’t risk him not coming back. “After Margo died, none of them saw any point to returning. Why would I go there? They died here.” “The answer to your families fate isn’t in Fillory, Todd. The answer is in the past, on Earth. You’ll be a spy for the future. Look for who they upset, who they fight. What shortcuts they take to save the world. All of that.” She pauses, before offering him a soft smile, “You’ll get to know your mother.” “I knew my mother,” He mutters, bringing his other hand up to the crown, and rubbing at one of the larger jewels with his thumb. Jane clicks her tongue. “Dear boy. She died when you were a toddler. I —“ “My father's made sure not a day went by that I didn’t learn something new about her,” He interrupted, voice hard as his thumb nail scraped over the face of the jewel. “And I won’t stand here and have you beseech her memory. Or theirs for that matter.” Jane stares at him for a few long moments, her fingers tapping at her waist, before she nods, once—perfunctory. “Well,” She says, “If there were any question as to which of them were blood, that’s certainly gone.” “What?” “Eliot. You and he share a temperament.” His thumb slides off the crown and to the side, digging into the rough edge of it. “You think I’m like him?” He asks, soft. “It’s uncanny, really.” His chest tightens but he nods once, chin tilting down so he can look at the crown. “Thank you.” “Of course.” She claps her hands together, and he jerks his attention back to her, his thumb clumsily sliding off the smooth jewel and scraping against the side of the crown. “Now. I’ve already alerted Henry to your arrival—“ “Wait—I’m. I’m going now?” “Obviously.” “But I’m king. I can’t just—I have to prepare my people. And I—I don’t know anything about earth! Or about those times! I won’t fit in and I—“ She moves forward and gently grabs him by the shoulders, eyebrows raised high. “Quentin’s anxiety is infectious,” she says, “But best not let it overwhelm you. You’re going back in time. Whatever happens, if you do what you’re meant to do, will all be erased. When you come back, your family will be alive.” “All of them?” “All of them.” “Even my mother?” She makes a face, before shrugging. “Possibly.” “And Uncle Penny and Aunt Julia and—“ “And Kady, Alice, Josh, and everyone else. Your family’s death,” She pauses, her mouth settling into a thin line as she looks away, shaking her head. “Was not meant to happen.” She lets go of him and takes two steps backwards. “If you want to set things right, you have to do it now. They’re coming for you. We have to send you back before they find you.” “They?” She nods. “Can’t tell you too much, I don’t want to affect anything. But if you don’t go now, you’ll die. And you won’t be able to save anyone.” He watches her, swallowing thickly. Part of him is ready to turn around and head back to the castle. Wait for them—whoever they are—to find him. Let them kill him so he can find his family in the underworld. So he can be with his dads and his mom. If he lets them kill him they can all be together again. But that wouldn’t make his family proud. And that’s the catch, isn’t it? Being torn between having them all again and making them proud. If he does this, goes back and watches their lives from the sidelines to try and see who killed them, he could screw everything up. Ruin it all. He could get them killed sooner. He— He could be the reason they die. But he’d also get to meet his mom before she got sick. Watch her become high king. Make her proud, too. He can’t do that if he’s dead. If he lets himself get killed, he’ll run into her arms in the underworld as a disappointment. He clenches his jaw and drops the crown. With it, the weight bearing down on his shoulders and chest eases and he squares them, defiant. “How’s this going to work?” He asks. “What do I need to know?” She smiles, glancing down at the crown sinking into the grass. “No affecting anything, unless otherwise stated by Henry—“ “Right,” He nods, then pauses, “Who’s Henry?” “Dean Fogg?” “Oh. My family has complicated feelings about him.” “I can imagine.” She nods to herself before continuing, “If there’s something you’re meant to do, he’ll let you know. Otherwise you’re not meant to actively be a part of their lives. Listen closely. Pay attention. Use your training to be King to your advantage.” His heart drops. “I can’t talk to them?” “I can’t stop you. But it’s not recommended.” So he’s going to talk to them. Talk to her. “Okay. What else?” “Pretend you belong.” “I don’t even know how people on earth dress—“ “Henry will have clothes for you.” “--or how they talk—“ “Exactly like your parents.” “Oh.” She laughs, soft and takes a deep breath. “Are you ready?” “I mean, no. Absolutely not. But we’re on a clock. So I don’t think I have a choice.” She nods again, chuckling as she moves forward and cups his jaw. “One day you will make a spectacular king. But not today. Today you get to be a child.” She raises her eyebrows before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Good luck, Todd.” And before he can even pull in a breath to ask how everything’s going to happen—the world around him starts spinning until he falls to the ground on something soft. Warm, and soft. His eyelids flutter open, blink rapidly as he tries to collect himself. A bright light shines down on him from the left, and he lifts his hand to block it out until his vision clears up and his surroundings aren’t blurry. When everything eventually comes into focus, he pauses, his hand slowly falling to his side as he pushes up on his knees. He glances down, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of a blanket, and the feel of the cushioning of the bed beneath it. Not the ground, then. He looks back up again, quick, as he recognizes the room he’s in and takes a fast breath as he stumbles off the bed, crawling through the blankets. He takes a step off, his leg tangled up in the blanket, and falls face first onto the ground with a loud crash. He jumps back up, huffing out a breath, and continues his way across the room, barely able to even register the searing pain of his entire face. His hands come up to rip the curtains open, sneaking in through the gap that the sunlight bleeds through, and jerking them apart so fast the bar almost comes out of the window. His hands fall to his side, as all the air he hadn’t realized he’s been holding in eases out of him, slow. His heart pounds frantically in his chest. It’s Brakebills, in the distance. He’d only ever seen photos before, but he’d recognize it anywhere. When you spend your entire childhood dreaming of a place, it’s hard not to recognize it. His dads would be so pissed if they knew. Turns out there’s a benefit to being orphaned: no getting in trouble. Without meaning to, he reaches up, fingers grazing against the smooth glass of the window. He’s within reach of Brakebills. He’s so fucking close, he could cast a spell and be there. Technically, he’s already there, though, isn’t he? He’s in the physical kids cottage. He turns around, as he remembers exactly where he is, and his heart starts pounding against his chest again as he steps away from the window. His legs go wobbly as he looks back at the blanket, now tangled and half hanging off the bed. He’s seen it before. In pictures. Oh god. Oh god. He’s not sure he’s ready for this. And obviously, like everything else in his life, because he’s not ready—the door bursts open. The girl—the woman—stands there, glowering eyes moving from him, to the mess of her bed, and back to him. Her head tilts, slow and cautious as she narrows her eyes and points a perfectly manicured nail at him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” She asks, finally stepping into the room. Her movements remind him a predator stalking her prey. “I—Uh—I. Got. Lost?” Her eyes narrow even further, which shouldn’t even be possible—but she’d been a king for a reason, and it wasn’t because she was all sugar and sunshine and rainbows. “And getting lost equals fucking up my bed, how?” “... panic?” He’d always imagined getting to talk to her. Her hating him hadn’t ever been a part of what his mind made up for him. Eyes burning, he takes a step back as she advances. He wills himself not to cry. He can’t. This is his mother. She’s alive, and she’s not just well. She’s— She’s fucking beautiful. “Are you new?” He blinks. “Y—Yes,” He says, nodding emphatically, “That . . . is what I am. I’m. New.” To this school. To this world. To this time. Nobody can say he lied to his not technically dead, but actually dead mother, that’s for sure. “Well, new kid,” she finally stops, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a hip, “I’ll generously give you five seconds to get the fuck out of my room.” She pauses, pulling one hand away and raising it in the air, “1.” Todd takes a careful step closer to her. “2.” A second finger pops up beside the first. She’s shorter than he imagined. Angrier. Still beautiful. She’s somehow more than he’s spent the majority of his life imagining. She’s got a ferocity he hadn’t expected—even if both of his fathers had gone on about it incessantly anytime she was brought up in conversation. And Uncle Penny’s numerous drunken exclamations of how wondrously bitchy she was — which was always said with a fond smile, and a far off look in his eyes.

None of it could have prepared him for how absolutely regal she is. And she’s not even royalty yet!

“3.” The third finger conjures a brief memory, fuzzy and barely there at all, from when he was a toddler, maybe four? She’s older. Staring down at him. But her lips are quirked, like she finds whatever he’s doing humorous. And just as quick as it’s there, it’s gone. He moves faster, barely makes it to the space in front of her before she shakes her head and drops her hand to her side. “Hang on,” She says, taking a step back, and flicking her gaze over him. “What the fuck are you wearing?” He frowns, looking down over himself. Fuck. Why hadn’t Jane let him change out of his coronation clothes? He looks back up, making a face as he pulls his arms around himself self consciously. He finally gets to actually meet his mother, and he’s wearing the ugliest, itchiest clothes the royal cabinet could find for him. Abigail and the rest of the cabinet suck, so hard. He clears his throat and shrugs a shoulder. “I’m . . . not from here.” A king he may be, but there’s a reason he wasn’t done training before the massacre. It’s because he’s an absolute shit liar. Jane didn’t think this plan through, at all, did she? “Alright, not from here, where’s your accent?” “Not everywhere has an accent?” She watches him for a moment before rolling her eyes. “Okay. Where were we? 4?” He nods, once, and darts out of the room, flinching as she slams the door shut behind him with a wave of her hand. Taking a deep breath, he leans against the wall and lets his eyes slide shut. His hands tremble at his sides. Even if he had any intention of abiding by the ‘don’t talk to them’ rule, that’s a little difficult when he crash lands in his dead mother’s bed, isn’t it? He opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling, narrowing his eyes. His first interaction with the woman who gave birth to him in sixteen years, and he’s wearing a ridiculous smock of an outfit, and she has no idea who he is. He shoves away from the wall and clenches his hands. * Dean Henry Fogg is an asshole. When Todd appears in the doorway of his office, Dean Fogg sighs heavily, motioning for him to come in with a lazy, albeit reluctant, wave of his arm. And as Todd takes the seat across from the desk, Fogg pulls out a flask of whiskey and takes a long, impatient drink from it. He screws the cap back on and shoves it in a drawer in his desk and glares at Todd like he’s not quite sure what to do with him. “Do you know,” He says after a few moments of heavy, awkward silence, “how many times I’ve had to live through these delinquents’ failures?” “Sorry?” “40 times,” Fogg continues, as if Todd hadn’t spoken at all, “And now I learn that on top of the time fuckery I’m already dealing with, I get a call from Jane to tell me that there’s another layer—except this one’s from the goddamned future.” He picks up a pen, grips it in his hand tight like he’s trying to force all his anger and frustration at life into it. “I’m getting real sick of your family.” Todd blinks once, twice, before nodding and shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. “I’d give anything to have 40 lifetimes with them,” He pauses, furrowing his brow, before adding, “Sir.” Fogg doesn’t even seem to realize the implications of the statement. “Look. Todd. It is Todd, isn’t it?” “Yes. Todd C—“ “I don’t care. Can you do magic?” Todd clears his throat and nods. “I—have a limited knowledge? Aunt Julia tried to teach me to the best of her ability, but Dad and—“ “Still don’t care about the details, Todd. Odds are they’re not even going to succeed this time. None of it matters.” Todd blinks again, shifting forward in his seat, and tilting his head. “I’m sorry. But I’m from the future, remember?” He squints his eyes, making a face, “In my future, they succeed. They defeat the beast, and a number of other magical, and non—magical foes. They become legends. All of them. They’re heroes. And—disasters, as my father would say. They’re imperfect, but they—“ “Alright. I get it. You can stop waxing poetic about the bumbling buffoons I’ve watched fail over and over again.” “You don’t speak of them in that way,” Todd hisses, anger rising like bile. “You’ve made your fair share of mistakes as well, sir. I know all about it. You do not get to talk about them as if they’re the only ones to make mistakes. My family risked everything to save magic. To save everyone. Including you.” He pushes up from the chair, and the tone of his voice falls, deeper, and more regal than he even realizes he’s capable, “It would be wise to remember that.”

Dean Fogg only raises an eyebrow before barking out a laugh and leaning back in his seat. “You’re Waugh’s kid, aren’t you?”

“I thought you didn’t care.”

His lips quirk, as he bobs his head, “Well. She did say I’d be dealing with a king.” He tilts his head, then, frowning. “Though in the past Fillorian kings have been…”

“Useless and an unjust burden placed on my people?”

“Both of your parents are from Earth.”

Todd nods. “And this is only my second time here. I am Fillorian, no matter my heritage. My people are in Fillory.”

“Then why are you here?”

“My people,” he says, soft as he leans back in his chair, “Have my spirit. I will give all that I need to, to ensure not only their survival but their happiness. But my family,” he swallows, thick, and lowers his gaze to the top of the desk as his fingers fidget in his lap. He can almost feel the crown in his hands again. “My family have my heart,” he adds, after a moment. “And no true king can rule without his or her heart.”

Dean Fogg stares him down, before he laughs again. “I take it back. You’re nothing like your parents.”

Todd’s gaze snaps back up. “What?” His stomach flips as he pushes out of the seat, shaking his head. “You can’t take that back. You said I’m like them. You can’t—“

“I meant that you’re actually smart. But sure, get offended.”

“My parents are—were… are? Are. They are smart.” He sniffs, his eyes starting to burn. “What is with all of you. Or—What is with you and Jane Chatwin talking about my family as if they are nothing more than pawns on a board you’ve placed? They are more than pieces you move to treat you whims. They are people. Incredibly loving, smart, people. And they don’t deserve—“

“Enough.”

Todd’s mouth snaps shit, and his lip twitches as he points a shaking finger at Dean Fogg. “I am the King of Fillory. You will not—“

“Not here you’re not. Sit the fuck down.”

So much for doing what his parents do whenever someone crosses a line they shouldn’t.

It makes sense. He’s not as intimidating as his father.

His dad says it’s because his eyes are too kind, that people can see the good in him.

At the thought of Quentin, a sharp pang of regret fills his gut. He regrets pushing him aside to follow Eliot around. Quentin was a good dad, too. But he wasn’t the High King. And all Todd wanted was to make his father, the High King, proud.

And in the end, he’d abandoned him again, in search of being something more than he is.

When he saves his family he’s got to tell Quentin he loves him. He misses the kindness. Misses his dad. Of course he misses Eliot, too. He’s spent his entire life idolizing him. Memorizing the way he walks, and talks. Learning to be just like him.

But now they’re gone, and Todd’s afraid only one of his parents knew he loved them.

He falls back into the chair with a soft plop and stares up at Dean Fogg. Neither of them say anything for a few long minutes. But he leans back in the seat, exhaling long and slow to ease the guilt and says, looking up at the ceiling, “Now what?”

“Now? I’ve got a shit load of paperwork, and you’re going to help. Then we’ll get you situated.”

The first time he sees him, is from a distance. His arms are overloaded with books Dean Fogg threw at him because “you’ll need these if you expect to learn anything” or something. He’d tuned him out in order to look over the covers of them as they were piled up. In fact, he’s gazing down at the cover on top of the stack, when he here’s a familiar laugh in the distance.

His head snaps up, just in time to see Eliot walking backwards, facing Margo and someone Todd’s never seen or heard about, grinning as he waves his arms around, probably telling some extravagant story he’s retold a thousand times.

Something in Todd’s chest pangs and he nearly drops all the books to run across the grass to pull them into a hug. His vision goes blurry, and all three of them turn into watery blobs until he can blink the tears away.

As he flips around to walk side by side with them, Eliot lets out another laugh, loud and boisterous and more than Todd could have hoped for. He takes a step towards them without meaning to, swallowing thick. “Fuck,” He breathes, turning his gaze back on the books.

Not yet.

Not until he can look at them without crying.

Quentin Coldwater has almost died – as far as Todd can tell – at least six times in the three months Todd’s been lurking around on the Brakebills campus. Which would be fine. Really. Okay, not really. Todd may know the future, but how many times does he have to hear second hand news of, ‘Did you hear what happened to Coldwater today?’ or ‘You will never believe what Coldwater did!’ before he stops having heart attacks? There’s only so much he can take of thinking his presence in the past has somehow altered everything so drastically that his dad is dead.

Ten years before he’s even been born.

And don’t get him started on having to see Quentin fawning over Aunt Alice.

If he ever gets back to the present, and his family is alive, he’s going to have to ask them why the hell nobody bothered mentioning that particular affair. Look. He’ll admit as much as any other human being who’s ever met her, Alice is beautiful. And inspiring.

But she’s his aunt.

And Quentin’s his dad.

It’s just weird, okay?

There’s a lot Todd expects when he walks down the stairs. His mother. Dressed in nothing but a bikini and chains?

So, so incredibly not one of them.

Like. At all.

His heart still jumps, when he sees them laughing and smiling together. Beats frantically in his chest, because this is the life he’s always wanted. The two of them. He knows how close they were. And he knows how deeply it wrecked Eliot when Margo died. And this is before most of the real troubles in their life begins.

So, when Eliot stands up wearing a goofy hat and ridiculous sunglasses, he can’t help but laugh.

Because he has never, in all his life, truly seen his father so absolutely, resolutely carefree. Even in halls of the castle, with Quentin. Even on trips, when he gets to pretend he’s not king, and he and Todd and Quentin just spend a few days out at sea, being a family. It’s a part of his father he’s never seen and it’s--

Well. It’s a get out jail free card for the future.

It’s also hilarious.

And he’s been here for four months. And they’re staring at him now. Eliot looks disgusted. Margo just looks bored. For a moment, he thinks, this is it. This is what it feels like to be on the outside of his own family. But, he’s smarter than people give him credit for, and if they find out he’s just eavesdropping trying to figure out who they’ve pissed off that’ll attack them thirty three years from now, he’s doomed.

So, he uses his eavesdropping to escape certain death. Okay, not death, because though they’re regal, they aren’t royalty yet. And Eliot does not have the ability to make that particular execution order, thank god, because his glares are terrifying-- a fact that does not change in the future-- and Todd does not doubt that he’d make the call without hesitation.

He grins, wide, and says, “Hey, so Ibiza!”

“Is a place.”

“That we’re going to.”

And it’s so clearly a ‘leave us alone’, but Todd’s stubborn. Thank his parents.

“I'm hearing Encanto Oculto this year is gonna be, like,” He pauses. What’s a phrase people of this time use? Oh! Right! “Off the chain. But you have to be invited by people who've been... and you guys have both been.” He’s not exactly sure at all what he’s talking about. It’s just clips of conversation he’s heard over the past couple days.

“Twice,” Eliot says, tossing his hat on the table.

Todd knows the frown on his face. But Todd is a king. And King’s aren’t scared of frowns. Even if his entire body is urging him to run back up the stairs and hide until they’re gone. He turns his attention to Margo, instead of darting out of the firing zone, and swallows. “Margo . . . you look so beautiful.”

She’s his mother. He can say it. It’s not creepy.

She smirks, glancing him over, until Eliot starts spluttering. And she says, all smooth, careful, “I got this.” Like she’s had to bat a thousand guys away every day for as long as Todd’s been alive. Which, considering the year, isn’t long at all because he’s technically not actually alive. She turns her attention back on him, blinking, “Tell me your name again.”

He supposes he should be thankful she doesn’t remember. He touches his chest, “Me? T--Todd.” He wants to remind her that she’s the one that named him, but holds that much back, at least. Because it’s not a reminder if she doesn’t already know.

“Todd,” And he can’t help the smile that eases across his lips at the sound of her saying his name, “Here’s the thing. Encanto Oculto is a solid week of sun, drugs, and magical art. Time stops, reality bends, and you fuck five times a day.”

. . . Okay. He doesn’t need to know about his mother’s sex life.

Oh god. Please no mental images.

“On a bad day,” Eliot adds.

And that is somehow so, so much worse.

He’d walked in on Eliot and Quentin once.

He knows his parents have sex lives.

He just doesn’t need to know about them.

He laughs awkwardly anyways, because if he does manage to get on this trip - because apparently that’s a thing he now wants - he gets to spend time with them. Which is something he does actually want. “Sounds awesome!” So long as he doesn’t have to see, hear, or acknowledge any sex they have.

“It is, Todd. It is awesome. But honestly, you'd end up in a corner alone. Bitter. Bumming everyone out. Like last year at the bacchanal.” He’s not sure what she’s talking about entirely, but it does kind of sting, how quickly she dismisses him.

As a child, he’d always known her to be kind. Patient. She was a great mother. Even when she was sick, she’d pull him up onto her bed, and run her fingers through his hair while she read a story, or used a spell to bring the words of a storybook to life. It’s one of the few real, tangible memories he has left of her.

It’s just jarring that that’s not who she’s always been.

She turns her attention back on Eliot. And he continues for her. “Poor… wait. What was his name?”

“Hmm… Todd.”

“Todd! How weird is that?” ”

He’s almost shocked by how in sync they are with each other. But his entire life has been filled with stories of how Margo was Eliot’s soulmate, from literally everyone who knew them.

So, it’s not so much shocking as it is terrifying to be on the side that gets beat mercilessly.

He doesn't even know what’s about to happen. Just that, he’s definitely going to end up walking away with tail between his legs.

God, there’s a reason he wasn’t ready to be King.

“Todd,” Eliot repeats, this time to pull Todd’s attention towards him. Speechless, and so unsure of what the hell is actually about to happen, Todd obliges, “You don’t want to end up like the other Todd.”

“What . . . happened to him?”

Eliot looks down like he feels bad, and before Todd can even think that oh, maybe this isn’t going to go how he expected, Margo picks up the invisible baton and carries on. “He just wasn’t meant to be there,” Right, okay. No mercy for the living, it is, “He moped and whined and brought everything down.” He’s not sure he feels about his mother thinking he’s anything like his fictional alter ego, but he doesn’t say anything, just lets her go on, “Okay, we were a little wrecked, and for fun, someone--Someone not us…”

“No. Not us.”

God, they’re terrifyingly sinister.

“--turned Todd into a pig.”

“And we ate him.”

Todd pauses, expecting them to laugh. But they don’t. And an unexpected, confused, awkward laugh bubbles out of him. But they stay stoic and scary, and suddenly he doubts that they’re lying to him at all as he grabs onto the banister. “Wait--are you guys messing with me right now?”

Margo--his mother, should the world need reminding--looks him over. Like he’s a piece of meat.

Unsure of what else to do, or say, because his parents are actually terrifying and no amount of Royalty is going to make him any less terrified that he’s going to actually get eaten before he’s even been born, he says, “Okay . . . I’m just. I’m going to… I’m…” And darts up the stairs before they actually decide to murder him.

At the top of the stairs, he hears them burst into laughter, as he falls against the wall and holds his hand to his chest.

Maybe this is the real reason Jane told him not to make contact.

Because his mother is somehow more terrifying than both his father's combined.

He’s not sure how he gets into helping Margo with the Gin, all he knows is he walked by a hall closet, heard something he prefers to have not heard, and was dragged into the livingroom by a livid, frustrated Margo Hanson.

And she may be snappy and irritated, but he catches glimpses of his mother.

So when Eliot and he-who-is-definitely-the-beast appear and Margo says, “Todd was more helpful than you,” he thinks this is the moment that he can finally become a part of the group. But he’s barely taken two steps when she looks at him, deadpan, and says, “Don’t.”

Which, fair.

But then, the Genie takes Eliot’s boyfriend -- who Todd is still debating telling them all is definitely the beast, because wow the trauma that unfolds from this particular thread is a hefty load, and a story his family doesn’t exactly like retelling, for obvious reasons -- and Todd finally gets to claim his place.

Because his family is smart. And they made him learn a whole lot in preparation of becoming a king.

And Arabic may not be his best language, but it does have Margo dragging him along to help.

Is it weird that his mother actually wanting his company, even if to use him for something, is the best part of his year?

“You wished my boyfriend away!”

“Boyfriend? He’s random cock!”

… And that is Todd’s cue to go find beast-boy because any talk of cock from his parents is so far out of his league it may as well be 33 years ahead of even his future.

Stumbling across the beast giving a doorknob the equivalent of a blowjob, is somehow simultaneously the most hilarious and confusing moment of his life. He wonders if his family ever realized, after discovering the truth, that they’d made the beast give a door a blowjob.

When he saves them he has to figure out a way to let them know. Like, maybe, “Hey your life was shit at this point in time, but did you ever consider the hilarity of the fact that the beast was trying to murder you, and in doing so, ended up humiliating himself?”

But then again it did send Eliot down a particular downward spiral that makes it onto the list of Things We Must Never Mention.

Like Margo’s death.

“Todd!”

Shit. Shit. Shit. They know he’s eavesdropping. He just needs to play it cool. He walks into the livingroom, thumbs tucked into his pockets. That’s casual, right?

“It’s your lucky decade. Pack a swimsuit.”

What?

“Seriously?”

She nearly rolls her eyes. “Ground rules: you need to fit in, so don't talk.” He can’t really argue with that. He’s still getting the hang of figuring out how people talk on Earth. In this time.

He opens his mouth to respond, but Eliot’s rushing forward, and grabbing onto Todd’s shoulders. He flashes back to the first meeting with the kingdom Loria, when both Eliot and Quentin had pulled him aside to tell him no matter what happens they’re proud of him and how far he’s come. Wills himself not to get emotional. “See that she hydrates, wears sunblock, and waxes. Mama's down south can get jungly.”

… Nope.

If his parents don’t stop giving him mental images he does not need, he might actually burst into tears. And for once, not the my life sucks and I’m traumatized tears, but more the, oh god the images won’t leave my brain, tears.

“And you’re in charge of the genie,” Margo adds, tossing him the bottle. He nearly drops it in his haste to catch it, but it’s okay.

Because he’s going to spend time with his mother.

It takes two days in Ibiza for him to fuck everything up.

Margo’s drunk, but calm and relaxed, lounging on the beach, staring out at the ocean, a cocktail in her hand, and a man fanning her with a giant leaf. Todd should be doing literally anything other than what he is doing. Which is, effectively, just gazing at her from his towel. Admiring her.

He assumes that when he was a baby that she had days like this. Days where she could just be. He doesn’t doubt that at some point in his childhood, he got to sit with her. Maybe on her lap. Maybe they watched a Fillorian sunset or two together. As mother and son. Maybe she ran her fingers through his hair, and pointed out things on the horizon. Maybe he got to have real moments like this.

But he doesn’t remember. He was too young. All he has are the memories of when she was sick. Of nights in the dark, and days in the castle staying by her side. Or of healers ushering him away.

Of her final days.

Eventually, she notices him staring. And really, that’s when it all goes to hell.

She sighs, dramatic, and pushes her sunglasses up so they’re resting atop her head. She raises her eyebrows, all drama -- which he’s learning is her default -- and lifts one shoulder. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His eyes dart left to right. “I’m . . . not looking at you in any particular way.”

She scoffs. “You’re looking at me like I kicked your dog or something. What’s the deal?”

“No deal. I’m--I feel bad for the leaf waving guy.”

“Seriously?” She asks. He nods, and she rolls her eyes, shuffling to sit up. She waves one hand lazily, and the guy fanning her with the leaf sets it down and walks off. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a terrible liar?”

Yes. Literally everyone he’s ever met. Including King Ess of Loria. But that’s irrelevant. Mostly because his opinion is irrelevant to every topic known to man.

He’s probably the only person less ready to be King than Todd and he’s been King two years longer than Todd has.

“Nope. Because I’m honest. Like a beaver.” He’d met a beaver once. Apparently it’s a part of their moral code to never tell a lie.

She narrows her eyes, before leaning to the side of the lounger and picking up the bottle with the Djinn in it. “That’s not an expression. And I’d suggest telling me the truth. Or I can make you. It’s really up to you.”

“Is it, though?”

“Nope.”

He huffs, nodding to the jar. “Shouldn’t you have given that to someone by now?”

“They didn’t want it.”

“Oh.”

She raises her eyebrow, “Come on. Out with it. You should be out fucking everything that breathes. Instead you’re staring at me. Which is usually fine, I am a sight to behold, but you’re not supposed to be sad when you stare at me. It’s creepy.”

Oh. Well, at least she’s blunt. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy.”

“I got that. Doesn’t mean you’re not.”

He lets his gaze drop back down to the sand, fiddling with the towel. “I’m sorry,” He says, softer. Sometimes it’s hard to pretend. He can’t help it. It doesn’t matter that he’s been here close to half a year. Doesn’t matter that he still hasn’t come in direct contact with Quentin or most of the rest of his family. Doesn’t matter how many times his mother and father both push him aside and remind him that they’re not his parents yet.

“Oh for--” She cuts herself off and he looks back up to find her shuffling to the end of the lounger. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It’s nothing. Really.” He offers a grin, waving a hand lazily, “Just homesick.”

She narrows her eyes until their thin slits, and taps one nail against the bottle, a sharp clink sounding between them. “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me the truth. I really don’t have the patience to play games.”

“I am—“

She scoffs, shaking her head, and pulling the bottle up into her lap and popping the cork in on fluid motion. If they weren’t surrounded by magicians on a private beach, he figures she’d have hesitated. But the genies appears, and a few people around them coo with jealousy, but nobody really reacts.

She stares at him, and the Djinn turns to him slowly.

“Come on—“ But the Djinn grants her silent wish, snapping his fingers as he appears, standing beside him, arms crossed.

Todd’s mouth falls open.

Did she seriously—

“If this actually works, you can’t lie to me.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “What’s really going on here? Out with it so we can go back to having fun.”

Jane’s going to kill him. But Todd’s only so strong. Because the Djinn reaches down, touches Todd’s shoulder, and the words come tumbling out; “It’s just jarring how much you’re like her, while not being like her at all.”

She tilts her head. “Explain.”

“My mother.”

“Why is me not being like you—do you have some kind of weird incest thing? Is that why you haven’t found someone to fuck?”

“No!” He exclaims, pushing up to his knees, only flinching a little as the Djinn’s fingers dig into his shoulder. “God, no!”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about?”

He tries. He really does. He clamps his mouth shut, swallowing the words that will themselves to the top of tongue, down. If he can’t not tell her the truth, then he can just opt for silence.

Which, apparently not. Because the Djinn’s grip tightens, nearly breaking skin, and instead of crying out in pain, he finds himself blurting it out;

“You’re my mother! Okay? You’re my mother! Ow! Fuck! Let—“ he struggles against the Djinn until it let's go and he jerks away, crashing into the sand on his side. He stares down at the sand beneath him, willing himself not to cry.

Because there’s no doubt that he’s just ruined everything.

Not only is he not going to save them in the future, he’s probably going to get them killed in the Now.

His fingers dig into the dirt as he swallows down the limp in his throat, fists filling with sand. He expects her to yell at him, maybe call him delusional. But she’s completely silent.

Only after he realizes she’s not going to say anything does he look up. Her elbows are still on her knees, but her arms are crossed at the wrist, dangling in front of her, and she’s staring at him with an inscrutable look on her face.

He sniffles, chin trembling as he turns his attention away from her.

“That’s not possible,” she finally says.

He shrugs a shoulder, silent.

There’s shuffling, and he can see movement out of the corner of his eyes, but he doesn’t realize she’s moved until she’s sitting on the towel next to him. “How’s that possible? My wish was that you had to answer my questions honestly. So you’re not lying.” She clicks her tongue and pokes him, roughly in the side. “Tell me how that’s even remotely possible.”

He shrugs again, shuffling in the sand to sit up straight. “Maybe I’m just a really good magician and can —“

“Cut the crap, Todd.” She hisses, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I can’t tell you,” he whispers. “I can’t, Margo. Just—please.” Finally, he turns to look up at her. He can feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, and he’s sure he looks as much of a lost child as he is, but he doesn’t know how to fix this. “Please, trust that I’m not here to do anything—anything bad. I just can’t tell you.”

Her gaze softens, but she clenches her jaw and shakes her head, waving a finger in his face. “No fucking way is that going to work on me. What the fuck? You think you can just say that I’m—that you’re—“

“I didn’t want to!” He says, desperate, twisting and turning until he can kneel in front of her hopelessly. “You’re not supposed to know. None of you are!”

“None of—“ she breaks off, shaking her head with a furrow of her brow, “None of who?”

His mouth falls open. “I—can’t.” It comes out as more of a sob than anything, broken and aching. “Please.”

She purses her lips for a moment, staring him down before shoving herself up, sand scattering around her, and holding her hand out to him. “Get up,” she says, shaking her hand at him. “Now.”

“Margo—“

“You said I’m your mother,” she whispers, callous, “So you have to listen to me. So. Get the fuck up.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Todd. Get up.”

Dejected, he takes her hand, a memory of her taking his hand to walk through the garden flashing across his memory as she pulls him up. It’s gone in a beat, as she turns on her heel and drags him across the beach towards a booth. She opens it, shoves him in, and it’s only as he stumbles into a hotel lobby, does he realize it’s a portal.

“Damn it, Margo,” he says, flipping around to glare at her, “I—“

“Nope.” She grabs his hand again and pulls him through the lobby, into an elevator, and then down a hall until they get to a room, and she slams the door shut behind them. She locks it, turns to him and points at the bed. “Sit.”

“I—“

“Sit.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but she raises one eyebrow and he sighs. Turns around and sits on the edge of the bed without a word. Even before she’s his mother she’s commanding.

On the bright side, he’s finally getting the parenting from her he never got to experience.

She nods, once, to herself and moves to stand in front of him, crossing her arms and staring at him expectantly. “How am I your mother? How is it even remotely possible? You’re only a year younger than me.”

He stares up at her. Watches the crease between her eyes deepen.

And honestly. What’s the point of lying anymore? He’s already fucked it all up.

“I’m—I won’t be born for another ten years.”

“I have a kid when I’m thirty three? That is—“

“You’re technically the surrogate. But you’re also my mother. You guys—it was. It’s hard to explain. It’s not normal here, I think.”

She blinks, falling back to lean against the dresser behind her, her hands cupping the space between her hips and the wood of the dresser. “None of this is normal,” she says. “Like, fuck.”

“I know.”

She closes her eyes, takes a few deep breaths. Which, he can’t really blame her. He’s freaking out, too. Just, less.

Because he has no idea what to do.

Because Jane Fucking Chatwin sent him into the past without a map, or a way to keep this exact thing from happening. He keeps expecting to find himself back in the clearing. But on the edge of the bed he remains. No wonder why Eliot called her an antihero. She’s the most morally grey, asshole of a hero he’s ever met. And he was born and raised in a fictional land full of people setting out to be heroes.

“How—,” she breathes, “Why?” She opens her eyes, and for once he’s not the only one misty eyed and confused.

But somehow being the person to make his mother cry? Not something he’d like to add to his list of achievements.

In fact, he’d like to go back in time again just to make sure she doesn’t cry.

“Something happens,” he says, looking down just so he doesn’t have to see. He wrings his thumbs in his lap. “I have to figure out why, and how to stop it.”

“What happens?”

He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I can’t—won’t—can’t.”

She does say anything for a long moment. But when she does, it’s no surprise. He knows she’s smart. Smart enough to figure something as small as this out. “Does someone die?” He nods, once, and she lets out a heavy, stuttering breath. “Shit. Is it me?”

He jerks his head up, eyes wide. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?” She scoffs, shoving away from the dressing and walking a path between the door and the bed, turning to walk it again as she reaches the end. She points an accusatory finger at him, “You’re the one who’s been staring at me all sad and shit. What the fuck else am I supposed to think?”

Can he tell her her actual fate? Can he even tell her what really happens?

Clearly he’s already said too much. He’s in too deep. But can he actually stomach telling her she’s dead?

He swallows and looks back down. “I can’t tell you what happens. It might affect the future.”

“If you think you’re leaving this room without answering my questions, you’re too dumb to actually be my kid.”

He flinches. She’d hit a little too close to home, there.

She stops pacing. “What was that?” She asks, moving to stand just a few inches away from him. “Why’d you make that face?” He shrugs. And she huffs angrily, moving forward to kneel in front of him, narrowing her eyes. “Why. Did you. Make that face?”

His jaw trembles as tears flood his eyes again, and he forces himself to look away. He can’t stand this. How could anyone expect him to? This is his mother. All he has of her are his memories. And Jane honestly expected him to come to the past and not screw it all up over his love for his mother? Or his fathers’? Or his family? They’re all dead. What the fuck did she expect from him?

He doesn’t realize he’s said it all out loud, or that he’s sobbing, until she’s pulling him into her, her arms wrapping tight around his back. The tips of her fingers dig into the back of his neck, and her breath hitches as she tugs him impossibly closer.

He’d never been given the chance after their deaths to respond. It’s all been a series of “What next?” Since the massacre. Of people guiding him to the next post, telling him who he needs to be and where he needs to go. A sea of numbness blocking out the trauma.

Even at the funeral, he’d been forced to play the stoic king.

And ever since he walked into Jane Chatwins clearing, he’s been playing the part of a stranger in his families lives. He’s had to watch them walking around, living their lives, unable to tell them. Unable to approach Quentin—too ashamed of how he treated him, even though this isn’t even his Quentin. Too scared to disappoint Eliot—despite this Eliot not being the doting, always-expecting King.

It’s too much.

It’s too fucking much.

Margo pulls away just enough to make him look at her. She tugs at the hair at the base of his skull, raising her eyebrows. “You’re not doing this alone,” she says. “We’ll figure it out together.”

“You—you can’t—“

“Fuck anyone who tries to stop me.” And she pulls him back in. “You’re my kid, Todd,” she says, “And when you calm down, you’re going to tell me everything. And then, we’re going to fix this shit. Because there’s no way on god's green fucking earth I’m letting you suffer this much. Not my kid.” She shakes her head, nails scraping against his neck. “Fuck that.”

“You don’t even—“

She pulls away again, squeezing his shoulder. “I have a son in the future,” she says, “And I know I put out some serious I don’t give a fuck vibes. And that right here, right now, I don’t actually know you.” She pauses, clicking her jaw, “But I have a god awful family, Todd. I have literally been left standing in the dust by my family. I’m not abandoning you. Whatever happens in the future, right now. I’m gonna be your mom.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Did you come out of my vagina?”

He grimaces. “I—“

“Well?”

“Yes…”

“Then you’re stuck with me. No future spawn of mine is going to suffer alone. So,” she nods to him, “Cry it all out. Because when you’re done we’re figuring this shit out.”

He stares at her. Tears brim his eyes, and she goes all blurry as he nods, once, before nodding again, more erratic. He pulls her in for the hug this time, finally allowing himself to breathe her in.

“I missed you,” he says, soft, as he closes his eyes.

Her only response is squeezing him tighter.

He’s fucked everything up.

But he can’t find it in himself to care. She’s younger, and more brash and reactive, but his mother is holding him.

Nothing else matters.

Not even the future.

For now, at least.

#the magicians #queliot #todd #quentin coldwater #eliot waugh #margo hanson #the todd is a time traveler fic

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