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book-pirate · 9 months

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Be the prompts you want to see in the world, or whatever it was that Gandhi said. “I was just taking a walk through the woods and I didn’t think Fae really existed, and I really don’t think I’ll accept any food from you” AU Lizzie/Darcy ofc

Lizzie cuts through Longbourn Park on the days she walks to work on her way home to stay out of the downtown foot traffic. She walks to work most days, for multiple reasons, including, of course the fact that she lives in a city and it's not practical, and the reduction of her carbon footprint.

If she's being honest, she also experiences horrific road rage and already hates her job enough that she doesn't need to be in a bad mood when she gets to work.

Of course, that being said, rarely does she ever cut through Longbourn Park on the way to work. It's usually dark enough outside that she prefers to stick to the well-lit sidewalks instead of the shadows of the path. However, she makes an exception the day the marathon comes to town. The number of spectators has created larger crowds than usual, and she doesn't feel like wading through strangers when she hasn't had her morning coffee yet.

She's hyper focused on not tripping, in the murky gloom of dawn, when a voice, accent crisp and cool, speaks out, "Excuse me, do you have the time?"

Startling, she clutches her bag and holds it close. Common sense for those living in the city dictates anyone asking for the time is probably going to attempt to steal your phone, so she doesn't rush to answer the stranger's question.

Her eyes adjust to see a pale man standing a few feet away, keeping his distance. He's tall, with beautiful features, dressed in a business suit out of place with his surroundings. It's suspicious, but he's far enough away that she risks taking her phone out of her pocket.

"It's 6:15."

"And the day?"

More suspicion. "Tuesday, the 15th."

The stranger nods, and smiles politely. "Thank you."

She rushes away without saying anything more, and pushes it out of her mind.

A few weeks pass, and she doesn't see the stranger again. She'd kept an eye out, the first few days, but eventually the encounter slips from her mind. There are more important things to worry about, like how her coworkers are trying to actively screw her over and, honestly, if her boss continues acting like he's acting, she might let them, just for an excuse to quit.

She should've gone into teaching, like she wanted, but no, accounting was the more reasonable and responsible choice, according to her mother. She'd never listened to anything her mother had said before, or since, so she's not entirely sure why she let herself be swayed on that particular issue.

It's not until she cuts through the park on her way to work, again, actually, that she sees the stranger. She's running late, and the park shaves five precious minutes off of her commute.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?"

Not only is it verbatim what he said last time, his voice is exactly like it sounds in her memory, so she's not surprised when she turns and sees the man, almost in exactly the same place. She checks her phone. "It's 6:31."

"And the day?"

She frowns. "Tuesday the 19th."

The same smile, the same nod. "Thank you."

It's bizarre in the way not a lot of things are. It stays with her, makes her look at the calendar in her down time, and note the exact amount of time that's passed between their meetings. She decides to conduct a little experiment, just to see if she's insane or not.

She cuts through Longbourn Park the next day, and the Tuesday of the next week. Neither time results in a meeting with the stranger. Marking her calendar for the third Tuesday of the next month, she decides to go about her life as usual.

And then, when she's called to work for an 'emergency' on a Sunday, she runs into him again on her way home.

"Excuse me, do you have the time?"

She jumps, not expecting him, and turns to him. "Don't you have a phone?"

He cocks his head to the side, considering her. "No."

"Why not?" she demands. "I don't know how anyone lives without one nowadays."

He shrugs. "I do."

Something is off, but she can't help her curiosity. "So, do you just hang out in the park, waiting for strangers to tell you the time?"

"You recognize me?"

"Should I not?" she asks, mirroring his expression of confusion. "This is like the third time I've spoken to you."

"Huh." He blinks, and then smiles. It's a little unnerving. "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. Will you give me your name?"

The way he's phrasing it is odd, and it makes the hair stand up on the back of her neck. "Why?"

"So I know what to call you."

She hums. "What if I don't want you to call me?"

He laughs, bright and unexpected. It makes him seem less off-putting. "Fair enough. Will you tell me the date?"

"Sunday, the 24th."

"Thank you," he says. "I expect I'll see you later."

Still unsettled, even minutes later, at her desk, she decides to open up a private browser and google 'will you give me your name'. She thinks she remembers the phrasing, but doesn't know why. Until the search returns.

Thousands and thousands of hits, about the Fae.

"I need a vacation," she mutters to herself, closing out the page viciously.

"What was that?"

The last thing she needs is for her bloodthirsty coworkers seeing her weak. "Nothing, Caroline! Just excited for another day in paradise."

As it turns out, she can't sleep or eat properly, now that the idea has lodged itself in her brain. She reads page after page after page about the Fae on the internet, checks out books from her library that she's sure make her seem crazy. Jane asks if anything's wrong, but that's where she draws the line. Her sister is not getting drawn into this.

She avoids the park, completely, for two weeks, before risking going again. Of course, he's there.

"Hello," he calls out, cheerfully.

"Hi," she returns, short.

"Will you give me your name?"

"Nope."

"That's a shame. Would you like an apple?"

He produces it out of thin air, and it cements her suspicions. "Listen, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny. May I ask you a question that's not this one?"

"Of course," he says, smoothly. "That's a no to the apple, I take it?"

"Yeah," she says, watches him take what looks like a very delicious and juicy bite. "Are you a Fae?"

He chokes on his bit of apple, coughs a few times. "What brought this on?"

"That's not a no," she points out.

"You are correct."

She squints at him. "I'm correct in pointing out that you didn't deny it, or correct in guessing you're a Fae?"

He smiles. "It's really unfair, don't you think, this game of yours? I don't even know your name."

"And you're not getting it," she says.

"Clever girl." He sighs, gives her a short bow. "You may call me Darcy."

"Okay," she says, slowly. "You can call me Nobody."

He laughs, like he did the last time they spoke. "Like Odysseus."

She's surprised, for some reason. "You know the Odyssey?"

"Just because you suspect I'm not human, I can't be aware of human things?" he asks, raising a perfect eyebrow at her.

"I guess not." This entire conversation has made her feel off-kilter. "Was there something you wanted?"

He hums, takes another bite of the apple. After he's done chewing, he says, "I tell you what, you ask a question, and I'll answer, but only if you answer a question of mine. Quid pro quo."

She snorts. "Silence of the Lambs. Okay, now you're just messing with me."

"Maybe, maybe not. Do you agree?"

Remembering what she's read, she tells him, "I agree to answer a question you ask me if you answer a question I ask you."

"Clever," he repeats, the smile on his face looking almost fond. "Alright, you may have the first question."

Now that he's agreed to answer her questions, she's not sure what to ask. They stare at each other for a few moments, before she settles on, "Why are you here? In the park, I mean," she hastens to add, "now."

"I enjoy it here. I like meeting people."

"Are you -"

"Ah." He holds up a slender finger that looks slightly too long. "My turn. Rules are rules."

She sighs. "Fine."

"What's your profession?"

It confuses her, why he'd want to know that. "I'm an accountant."

"Interesting." To his credit, he does look like the answer intrigues him. "Now it's your turn."

"Well, what do you do?"

He smiles. "I supposed you could say I'm a manager."

"Seriously? Just a manager."

His smile widens. "You can ask follow-up questions, you know. You just have to wait your turn."

She rolls her eyes.

They go back and forth like that for almost an hour, as she gets sucked into the conversation. He wants to know the most mundane things about her, like how many siblings she has and how she feels about the windows in her apartment. Being careful in her answering, she speaks plainly and clearly while trying to be clever. She’s not certain how effective it all is, but it makes Darcy smile and laugh, and she's found she likes that.

Not enough to accept his offer of food or tell him her name, but it's pleasant all the same.

In turn, she finds out he also has a sister, whom he loves very much and practically raised, and that he doesn't have many friends, amongst other inconsequential things, like his favorite color (blue), favorite food (fresh blackberries), and favorite song (Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture). Any time she tries to veer into harder facts, like what exactly he is or where he comes from, he circles her neatly, and answers without really telling her anything at all.

Her phone goes off, reminding her of a dinner with Jane, halfway through her story of how she lost her last baby tooth. "Oh, shit. I totally forgot, I have dinner with my sister. I have to go."

He nods once, suddenly serious. "One should always keep their appointments."

"It was really nice talking with you," she says, and finds she means it. "I guess I'll see you around."

"You will," he tells her, pausing with something like hesitation before continuing, "I'll attempt to be here Tuesdays and Thursdays, between four and six in the afternoon. If you would like to speak again."

Her cheeks feel hot, but she manages to keep her voice even as she replies, "I would like that. I'll see you then."

And then curses herself for it all the way home.

She can't tell Jane, can't tell Charlotte, can't tell anyone for that matter, that she's made friends with some weird Fae being that may or may not live in some alternate dimension accessible through Longbourn Park. There's no way anyone would take her seriously, and, worse, Jane would be worried. She can't do that to Jane. No one should do that to Jane.

They talk consistently at least once a week for months. Sometimes he's not there, and sometimes she’s sick or works late. She's glad they never formally agreed to meet at a specific time, as she remembers the look on his face when he spoke about honoring commitments. He's a funny man, and is always nice and polite, even charming with her, but she has a feeling he's not like that with everyone, or even all the time.

However, it starts getting colder out, and then it's generally the time of year she starts driving or taking public transit again, to avoid the snow and ice. She tells him, hesitatingly, that she's not sure she'll be able to keep meeting outside.

He looks around, as if this hadn't occurred to him. "Ah, yes, it is getting colder outside, isn't it?" He's quiet for a moment, and she knows him well enough now to see the gears turning in his head. "Ms. Nobody, if I may ask a question of you?"

"Yes, you may."

"Why do you still hesitate to give me your name?"

The question surprises her. He's stopped asking for it, hasn't asked for it in months. "Um, I don't know. I guess I read that if the Fae know your name, the have power over you."

"And what of refusing to eat what I bring?"

"Isn't it," she's less sure of this, so she pauses while she tries to figure out the phrasing. "I read that if I eat something from the Fae world, I'd have to live there."

He hums. "You are correct in different ways on both issues. I have a solution to our problem, but it requires a certain amount of trust from you."

"What is it?" she asks, wary. "I make no promises.

Smiling, he tells her, "I'd never expect anything else. I would like to court you, formally, if I may."

Her eyes must be wide as saucers. "I'm sorry?"

"I've enjoyed getting to know you, and I dare say you've enjoyed getting to know me. And now I would like to get to know you further, in different settings. A courtship, because I like you, very much."

If she thought meeting a Fae was weird, this is somehow weirder. "And what would that entail?"

"I would need permission to come to your home, and you would need permission to come to my world."

"And how would we do that?" she asks, voice somewhat faint, trying to wrap her head around it all.

His face is serious. "This is where the trust comes in. I would need to know your name, and you would to eat something of my world. I will tell you my real name, and eat something of your world in return."

"I have questions."

That gets a smile out of him. "Of course."

She steels herself. "What power would you having my name give you?"

"If it was not reciprocated, or given without conditions, I could steal you away and compel you to act as I wanted you to," he says. "I am being honest and speaking plainly, something that is not natural for me. However, if I give you my name, we would have the same power over each other, and negate the effects."

Processing the information, she nods. "And what would eating your food do?"

"If you ate enough of it over a certain period of time, you would be unable to leave my world. However, I will give you a single slice of an orange, enough so that the travel between worlds does not make you sick."

"But you're already here," she points out, "why do you need to eat my food?"

"Ah," he laughs a little, "you haven't noticed. For someone so perceptive, I thought you would've."

He points to his feet and, for the first time since she met him, she sees the mushrooms around him. She groans. "You're in a circle."

"Yes. If I wish to leave it, I must have either permission or food. Food is easier." He makes a face. "Is this how humans feel all the time? Speaking plainly is exhausting."

For some reason, his face and admission is what does it for her. "Okay, Darcy, what's your true name?"

He looks somewhat nervous as he introduces himself, "My name is Fitzwilliam, and I give it to you freely."

She smiles. "Fitzwilliam," she says, feeling the rush of magic through her fingers and toes. "My name is Elizabeth. I give it to you freely."

His eyes darken. "Elizabeth."

There's a spark that runs through her, butterflies in her stomach. "Please, don't let me have made a mistake."

"I would not do that to you," he tells her, desperation coloring his tone. “If you -"

Her heart is pounding, fit to burst. "I give you permission to leave the circle."

In a flash, he's in front of her, arms winding around her waist. "Elizabeth," he murmurs, "may I kiss you?"

"Yes," she says, "please."

His lips touch hers, and it feels like coming home.

#sofiewritesthings #pride and prejudice #elizabeth x darcy #elizabeth bennet x fitzwilliam darcy #lizzie x darcy #pride and prejudice fanfic #pride and prejudice fic #covid has done wonders for my productivity lol #with fic to be clear #nothing else #anyway head empty no thoughts just fae darcy etc

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