Chapter Text
Augus Each Uisge, predatory waterhorse, Unseelie fae, was bored.
He wasn’t hungry – he’d hunted only two weeks before, finding a delectable young woman to drown in his lake, her blood like so much liquor upon his tongue that he’d felt drugged for several days after returning to his own human-form – and he had no clients on his schedule for at least a month. While many fae didn’t have to work, especially waterhorses, Augus had found his vocation as dominant and sexual healer to the fae decades ago. Unusual, yes – but then, the fae overall tended to specialise in the unusual and the fantastic. They were, after all, fae.
But it was rare that his schedule cleared up enough that he had weeks of his own free time. Unlike his adopted brother Ash, he wasn’t one to lie around and do nothing all day. He could read, yes. He could harvest herbs. He could dry foods and cook and create healing poultices, unguents and ointments, but he had done all of those things over the past week and a half. He would continue to do them as the weeks progressed.
Still, boredom had always been something that plagued him from time to time.
He wandered through the woods of Ethallas. These were the woods of his birth. The lake that was both his parent and his current shelter was cloistered within these trees. It was a forest lightly populated with fae; bordering on Seelie Courtlands – not an ideal place for an Unseelie waterhorse to live, but he was mostly left alone – and more often used for the richer fae to do their hunting, than anything else. There were times when he caught the thundering of hooves and the baying of hounds and he would rush back to his lake to avoid being the victim of a stray arrow.
It is a woodland of strange noises. Of screeches in the night. Howls that sounded like wolves, even though Augus had never come across wolf spoor in these particular woods. He’d hear strange cackling in the shadows and suspect fellow Unseelie fae, only to see nothing at all. Whatever the Ethallas woodland was – it was certainly eldritch. He suspected if he was more able to sense magic, he’d know this place as being filled with the stuff.
Yet very few fae gravitated towards this place.
Which was good, because he valued his privacy.
It was late autumn, he wandered deeper into the woods, wondering how far it stretched. Like many fae forests, it had a sense of being folded in on itself, far bigger on the inside than it would appear on any map. It played with physics, the senses, could entrap and enfold even fae into its being. Augus was careful as he followed a deer-path beyond sun-dappled shadows, further still. Here, the remnants of leaves on the deciduous trees were even more stunning in the mostly-dark. Vivid reds and crimsons, even violets and blues on the fae species.
He could use fae abilities to make his steps silent if he wished, but he thought it was more polite to let other fae know he was coming. He wanted no quarrel, and he was stalking into no one’s territory to make a challenge. Not that he could, as underfae. He might be strong enough to protect his own territory – so far – but he was nothing more than fodder to higher class fae. For war, for sport, for whatever they wished.
He looked behind him, noticing the way the trees seemed to bend towards each other. Branches reaching across the path and tangling, blocking out the lacklustre autumn warmth. He shivered. He preferred to be within the depths like this. The open sky intimidated him. He was destined for dark, watery places. He loved the murk. The deeper he walked into the woods that would intimidate most others, the more his breathing relaxed, his muscles loosened.
The only problem was the cold, which clung to his green, collared shirt and his thin pants. The cold of the water was somehow never as bothersome. But the wind and breezes picking at his skin felt like little insects that wouldn’t leave him alone. He even, absently, tried to swat a particularly sharp breeze away.
He had wandered into a forest of almost complete darkness – night vision adjusting to the deep – when he heard a thin moan. His head turned towards it sharply, his fingers curled.
Then he decided it was none of his business, and he continued on down the unexplored deer-path. He saw no deer, though he did see plenty of owls, and once or twice, the melanistic lynxes of Frycht.
The moan again, and Augus shivered to hear the pain in the sound.
He turned towards it, curious. Had there been an attack? Had the hunters from that rich An Fnwy estate come through and put an arrow through a fae, as he always knew they would?
He frowned.
Leave it to die on its own then, it’s none of your concern.
There came a fierce scream, outraged and pained at once, muffled by the leaf litter on the floor, reflected off the shiny surfaces of the leaves still on the trees. It made the sound strange, unearthly, but Augus could still tell what direction it was coming from.
Unbidden, he took a step towards it.
There were no more sounds for a good ten minutes as he moved – quietly now – through the woods. He had to twist around shrubs and bushes in the understorey. Stepped over fungi and other small plants and herbs. Though he did take note of several that he could harvest later for his medical kit. At one point there was some shrubbery so impenetrably thick that he needed to skirt around it, moving off the deer path with some reluctance – what were the deer doing, jumping over it? – and feeling a wave of relief to find it again.
His nose prickled to smell a deep but small pool of fresh water. He’d sensed the spring long ago in his own lake, stretching out his senses to map all the local waterways. Nothing lived in it – too small to be much of a home to most fae – but the freshness of it made his mouth water. He stopped briefly, scooped the sweet, pure stuff into his mouth. And then his nose prickled at a strange, alien scent. Copper, iron, something more.
What are you?
As he crept closer, the scent became stronger. Blood, a lot of it. An unmistakeable scent of rusting metal. Then he heard the clinking of chains and he frowned. Was he stepping into…someone’s feed? He didn’t know of anything that fed on fae that lived in these woods.
He hid himself behind the bole of a large oak, knowing that in the space beyond, he would find whatever it was. He hoped he wasn’t stumbling across some territorial fae feeding on prey. He could use the spring to teleport away if he needed to reach it fast enough.
He peered from behind the bole slowly, silently, skin prickling as the wind soughed through the leaves above, and creaks sounded around him.
A fae, staring right at him.
Augus stared back.
Details filtered in quickly – a young man, naked, wild. He looked like common fae, which didn’t seem right. They weren’t wild fae, they lived in houses. The trap – a horrible bear trap – teeth digging so deeply into his ankle that Augus could see muscles and ligaments exposed. Some faint bruises and blood all around his fingers and palms where he’d tried to prise the trap off himself. Why couldn’t he move it? A long chain attached to a root system. Augus swallowed.
This was no underfae.
He couldn’t tell exactly how he knew. Perhaps because the creature looked so vibrant with energy despite being obviously exhausted, in pain, terrified. Perhaps some older, deeper instinct.
Why hadn’t he just released himself?
‘Greetings,’ Augus said quietly. ‘You seem to have yourself quite caught, don’t you?’
The creature stared at him. His body was formidable, even hunkered down against the tree trunk. Broad shoulders, a wiry, muscly strength, and long limbs that spoke of height. His hair was a matted leafy tangle of bark and twigs and bits of leaves. A chunk had been pulled out at some point, and was still growing back. Augus could pick that he was blond, but there was so much muck in his hair that he couldn’t be certain what shade.
Pale lashes blinked at him, a face blank of all response except fear was all the man was offering.
‘What’s your name?’ Augus tried.
The man stared.
Was he cursed? Had his voice been taken away from him? His mind, perhaps? But then why the trap? Augus shivered to remember the outrage in the scream.
He took a tentative step forwards.
The creature reacted explosively. Scrambling backwards, leg tugging so hard that he gave a pathetic cry as the wound opened again. Augus’ breath was taken away when he realised that the wound had been healing and re-opening, healing and re-opening, because the foreign object wasn’t being removed and the creature had…healing better than underfae, that much was certain. His nostrils flared. The steel trap had an incredibly high iron content. It would weaken even a Capital or Court fae.
‘Easy,’ Augus whispered, holding up his hands automatically. The man was making sickened, weak noises as he tried crawling out of the way. ‘Easy. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not going to hurt you.’
The noises were rising in pitch, becoming more frantic, as Augus crept closer to the ankle trapped in the chain, the arch of the foot, the curling toes. He saw deep lacerations on the man’s back, the back of his thighs, but they were mostly healed over.
‘What’s been done to you, hm?’
As Augus reached out towards the trap, knowing he was likely about to do something very stupid – perhaps the fae was trapped for a reason – the man suddenly stilled.
Augus began to sigh in relief, thinking that perhaps he’d finally realised what Augus was attempting to do.
Another roar, and Augus scrambled out of the way when the man suddenly turned on him. A fierce, mindless rage in his eyes and a vicious hunger in his hands. One moment struggling to get away, the next, looking like he would tear Augus apart through sheer force of will.
‘Fine then,’ Augus said, pushing himself to his feet and shaking his head at himself in disgust.
Ropes of waterweed – thick and strong – shot from his wrists and slipped around the man’s torso and arms, binding him. Rage turned to terror again, and – caught – he tipped his head back and shrieked. Augus kept binding him, noticing the way he was able to get the leverage needed to sever the first piece of waterweed, but nothing after. Augus had him bound too tightly.
‘Now,’ Augus said, walking forwards again, raising his eyebrows in displeasure as he looked at the wound on the creature’s ankle. He could hear the wretched, wet gasps of the man’s distress, and lowered his hand tentatively to the trap.
As soon as his fingers touched it, it fell open with a series of clicks.
Augus stared in shock.
Magicked to open for me, for others…but not him? Someone is trying to catch him specifically? Who could afford a trap like this? And why this?
The man hadn’t moved. His ankle still lay on the barbs of the trap.
Augus stared at him, realisations stirring within him. A man of higher status than underfae, trapped in the woods for what could have been days with so much evidence of healing and re-healing. A trap crafted for him. Was this a curse? Torture? Something else? The man was clearly terrified. Augus was familiar with clients who had been tortured.
‘Who did this to you?’ Augus whispered.
The sound seemed to make the man realise that he was free, and he was galvanised into action. He pushed himself up, and took a single step to flee, then collapsed. The pain in his ankle, the fact that his arms were tied to his torso.
‘You’re far too hurt for that, I’m afraid,’ Augus said.
The man had struggled onto his side, was trying to push himself up again with his forehead.
‘Can you understand me, I wonder?’
The man turned back to him, eyes meeting his for several seconds. And in that moment, Augus was sure he saw something like recognition, understanding. But it disappeared behind a feral fear, and he was struggling to get up again.
‘I can’t let you go,’ Augus said matter-of-factly. ‘You’re far too interesting to just leave here. And, I suspect, your torturer will return.’
He’d gotten himself upright again, took a very game step on what was a terribly wounded ankle, and made a sound of sheer frustration when his knee buckled and his ankle twisted. Augus took several steps forward, and the man looked up at him, a snarl on his face.
So much fight after what had to be…so much harm. Augus found it intriguing.
‘Stop fighting me,’ Augus ordered, compulsions strong in his voice.
The creature flinched, and then growled angrily, grimy fingers curling. Augus’ eyes widened in surprise. The compulsions worked on all common fae, no matter what their status. It was one of his most powerful abilities; he could use it to force most to obey his will – used first and foremost for hunting humans, but it came in handy when he was protecting himself amongst the fae.
‘Come here,’ Augus compelled, and the man just stared at him, something rebellious in his blue eyes.
‘Well,’ Augus said finally. ‘Isn’t that curious?’
He lazily shot waterweed out of his wrists again, binding the man’s legs, watching his struggles dispassionately. If he let himself get too involved, too upset, he’d not be able to think. And if he was going to get involved, he needed to able to think. If he took the man with him – he’d need a name too, if he truly couldn’t talk – he’d need to make sure he didn’t leave a scent trail. Using the spring to teleport directly into his lake would solve that problem.
He had the equipment needed to secure the creature for as long as possible. After all, he specialised in bondage, against some very strong fae indeed. That wouldn’t be a problem.
He could tend to his ankle and…and then what?
Augus stared at him.
Why was he even considering this?
You can always turn him loose if you get bored with this project.
He nodded once, in response to that thought. It was true. If it all became too tedious, he could simply turn the wild man loose into the forest once more. If he hadn’t come across him in all this time living here, he likely wasn’t going to come across him again.
The man struggled, screeched, cried out, as Augus dragged him by several ropes of waterweed. It couldn’t have been comfortable. They were sliding over tree roots, small rocks, larger rocks, and not always on the path itself – which wasn’t wide enough for the man’s shoulders anyway. Thankfully the spring wasn’t too far away.
Getting the man into his arms and into the water at the same time to teleport them both was a far more complicated matter. One that wasn’t assisted by the narrowness of the spring itself, and the fact that the man was struggling for all he was worth. At one point, when half his torso was in the water – Augus was certain now that he’d experienced drowning before – the man turned and bit him so hard that his blunt teeth broke through the fabric of Augus’ shirt and sunk into his flesh. Augus hissed and his grip tightened angrily.
‘Don’t bite me,’ Augus growled.
His teeth lengthened in defence, retaliation, and he turned, sinking his teeth just as hard into the man’s shoulder, drawing blood, a despairing moan. He closed his eyes and sank his own poison into the wound for good measure, and the man’s breath hitched, he shuddered in pain and sedation both. He blinked slowly at Augus, pupils dilated so wide to speak of nothing other than terror and mindlessness. Augus was caught up by the paleness in the ring of blue around the black. Was it an aristocratic shade? Did it belong to a particular bloodline?
Augus sighed, used his waterhorse weight and gravity to drag them both underwater, before turning them both into fluid and teleporting into the black.
*
He thankfully had a lot of experience teleporting struggling victims, so he didn’t lose the man during the shift from the spring to the depths of his lake; but it was a close thing. The sedation from his poison had lasted hardly at all. Then again, Augus hadn’t exactly given him a large dose.
He dumped him into the foyer, and then shook water off his clothing. Squeezed it out of his hair. It was simple enough then to drag the man inside, ignoring his struggles, calling on his waterhorse weight to make sure he stayed the stronger of the two. Even easier to drag the man down the corridor of his underwater home – protected by its green, insulating dome – and choose not the first room on the right, nor the second, but the third. The one he reserved for harder play, with clients who…could take a great deal more than average. And there, conveniently low to the floor, metal rings in the wall that were spelled to be able to hold even Inner Court fae, if necessary.
Not that he’d ever been patronised by Inner Court fae – but always best to be prepared.
He worked quickly, using up spare minutes while the creature seemed too tired to move. That or he was shocked by his new surroundings. Augus’ eyes flickered to him constantly. The way his mouth was open and panting for breath. How his eyes roved the room constantly, in confusion. As though he’d never been inside before – or at least not for a good long while, Augus thought.
He looked down at the collar with some regret. He doubted this would go down well. But for their own safety, he needed to make sure the man was restrained. A higher status fae could kill him. And he suspected this one might try.
Augus wondered if he should have just given him his freedom, and then dashed those thoughts immediately. This man had been caught in a steel trap before; he was certain of it. Augus had come across rusted iron-steel traps in the forests before. Always blood-stained, that same carbon-lightning smell caught on the barbs.
Caught over and over again.
He hoped he’d not brought a cursed fae into his home. The creature wasn’t even Unseelie. He was one of the good ones. Had this creature caught the sights of an Unseelie fae perhaps? Was this…revenge?
The man didn’t look at him when Augus bent down behind him, too tired, maybe. But as soon as Augus slipped the collar around his neck, there was a jolt of recognition, and blue eyes flicked to his, mouth opening on a cry. Augus snapped the collar shut quickly – enough room to not chafe at his neck, but not enough that it could be slipped off his head. And even as the man started to struggle again, Augus had a clip and chain hooked into the back of the collar and clipped the other end to the steel ring.
Several feet of movement – enough to perhaps allow him to stand, to allow him some mobility.
‘Do stop struggling,’ Augus said quietly. ‘This is for your own safety.’
The man screamed at him.
Augus rubbed at the back of his head and walked to the other side of the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a small knife. He expected even more fervent struggles now, but when the man caught sight of it, he shuddered to a stop, and then went completely limp. His eyes welled, and a moment later, tears tracked through the grime on his face.
‘You wear the products of your torture quite obviously,’ Augus said softly, kneeling before the man and slipping the knife quietly through the waterweed. His ankle was bleeding copiously, and Augus wanted to clean and bandage it. He grimaced at it and kept cutting through rope after rope of waterweed. It disturbed him to see that the man had already started to break and wear through some of them. He was strong.
Court status? Augus couldn’t be certain. Court status fae were in the Seelie and Unseelie Kingdom registries.
Did he have a name? A family? Did anyone miss him?
Could he be ransomed?
Augus’ eyes brightened as he looked at him, he smiled faintly.
‘Are you worth anything to anyone? Hm? A pale thing like you?’
The man stared at him, faintly trembling, trying to hold as still as possible. Obviously used to being tortured by a knife. Those who had experienced prolonged knife attacks knew very well how struggling could worsen any wound in an instant.
Trained with torture then.
Augus sighed.
‘I’ll need a name to call you by, until we find your real one. You might not be Welsh, but you’re on Welsh lands, so you’re stuck with what I give you, unfortunately.’
Augus turned the language of his home over in his head. The creature was startlingly pale, even after exposure to the elements. His eyes pale also. He thought of words that might describe him: golau, olau, gwynion, channaid, wyn, glaer, gannaid…
‘Gannaid, perhaps?’ Augus said aloud. He reached up to Gannaid’s torso, slicing the knife through waterweed.
Gannaid whimpered once.
‘Hush,’ Augus said crisply.
He subsided into a shaky silence, as Augus continued to cut away all the waterweed. And though Augus expected attacks at any second, they never came. Gannaid’s hands limp by his side, and something paralysed in his bright eyes. Augus wanted to reach up and fuss over his hair, but the reality was that it was so matted it might need to be shorn. He needed to tend the ankle, that was a certainty. But how? Perhaps while he slept? Augus had no idea.
‘This is why I shouldn’t mess in other people’s affairs,’ Augus said, smiling to himself. ‘But I suppose if you are too much trouble, I can always dump you back in the wilds again, for whatever monster wanted you.’
Augus tucked the knife away once he was done and then moved carefully back, watching for what Gannaid might do.
He did nothing.
‘I need to treat your ankle.’
Said nothing.
‘If you can talk, now would be an opportune time,’ Augus said. ‘A name, perhaps?’
Augus huffed out a breath and put the knife away. He thought about restraining the creature’s – Gannaid’s – arms, but then thought the better of it. Perhaps he’d do better by showing this man that he had no obvious intention of harming him. Just keeping him…secure, for now. Augus did find himself wondering if a ransom was at all possible. It wasn’t as though he needed the money, but he would find it deeply entertaining to ransom a member of the Seelie back to the Seelie.
‘I’m going to get my medical kit and tend your ankle. And then I will eat lunch. And then we shall see what happens with you, Gannaid.’
The name didn’t feel quite right, but it would have to do.
He walked from the room, and just as he started to close the door, he heard a cough and a rasp. He turned back, eyebrows furrowing.
The man had twisted to see him leave, something strange in his eyes.
His chapped lips were parted, he looked like he could do with about ten consecutive baths before he’d be anything approaching clean. What did he even eat? At least if he was Seelie, he shouldn’t be too hard to keep fed. He wouldn’t need to feed on humans, or anything like that.
‘Yes?’ Augus said after a minute of discomfiting, prolonged eye-contact, as the man stared at him unblinking.
‘Gwyn,’ the creature rasped, voice thick with disuse.
Gwyn – white, silver, darling, fat, ripe, blessed, shining.
‘Someone loved you once, didn’t they?’ Augus said, blinking at him. ‘Do you think you’ll be worth much to them? Gwyn? Do you have a last name?’
But Gwyn’s fingers were finding their way to the collar, and then his blue eyes were blinking in growing fear and rage.
That was when the howling and struggling really began.