Chapter Text
The sun hadn’t risen when Qifrey and Easthies prepped themselves to leave the Great Hall.
With their bags packed and goodbyes given, they steeled themselves to step through the Windowway in front of them.
“Are you feeling alright?” Qifrey asked, tilting his head towards Easthies.
“I’m fine.”
Qifrey frowned at the answer, not quite believing the Knight when he said it. To avoid an argument, though, he chose to let the matter rest.
Beldaruit was a blubbering mess, talking endlessly about plans and trying to provide Qifrey with a last-minute presentation on why he shouldn’t go. Most of his speech went in one ear and out another.
Vinanna put her hand on Easthies’s shoulder, voice low as she discussed something with him. From where he was standing, all Qifrey could pick up was ‘careless mistake’, ‘time away’, and ‘back quickly’. Easthies’s expression gave nothing away, but he seemed to turn away from Vinanna rather quickly given he would be unlikely to see her for quite some time.
When the Windowway was ready, they bid their final farewells to the ones who had come to see them off before stepping through it.
Dark stone walls were replaced with a vast expanse of deep blue sky dotted with stars. The sun was rising, splaying pink, orange, and yellow across white clouds, creating an awe-inspiring view. The moment his foot touched the grass, wind whipped Easthies’s hair and cloak into a frenzy. He was too tired to even try to subdue either.
The Windowway closed behind them, Easthies glancing back at it briefly. He was tempted to go back. To tell Qifrey to mind his own business and allow him to do as he wanted.
But he kept quiet, turning to see what said white-haired individual was up to.
Qifrey was moving the luggage onto the wood cart he had arranged for, calmly talking with the driver. The driver must have been one of the villagers from nearby. She was tanned, wore a sunhat, and chewed on a stalk as she spoke with Qifrey about how long the drive would be.
She glanced at Easthies, nodding towards him. He awkwardly nodded back.
Irrational panic clouded his thoughts.
What if she knows?
She looked at me like she knew everything.
She’s going to tell everyone.
Everything will be ruined.
He shook the thoughts off, reminding himself that such thoughts were ridiculous and irrational. Instead, he focused his attention helping load the cart.
He placed his own bag onto the cart just fine, but his attempt to help with the rest was blocked by Qifrey.
“I’ve got this. Go sit in the cart and wait.”
Easthies’s face twisted with annoyance.
“I want to help.”
“And I said go sit.”
Qifrey’s bright face, which could not completely hide his disdain for Easthies, was a stark contrast to Easthies’s dark expression. He glowered at Qifrey, once more reaching out a hand to try to help. Qifrey blocked him yet again, managing to snake his way between Easthies and the luggage before herding him towards the cart.
Easthies’s protests went unanswered, leaving him feeling much like a child. He was instead left on the bench within the cart, stewing in his thoughts as the remaining luggage was piled into the back. Easthies could admit that the fight would go nowhere for him, he did not want to admit that Qifrey was able to get him to do something - or rather, not to do something.
It frustrated him.
He chose to believe that he simply didn’t want to help. That’s why he sat in the cart, waiting as Qifrey and the driver finished loading their luggage. It wasn’t a means of comforting his own hurt pride, but ‘the truth’, as he saw it. Once the last bag was slid and secured into place, Qifrey hoisted himself up onto the cart and settled onto the bench across from Easthies, which earned him the full brunt of Easthies’s glare.
“Don’t look at me like that. Be thankful I was even being considerate.”
Qifrey’s scorn brought Easthies comfort, strangely enough.
While everything else was changing, at least this had remained the same.
The driver urged the horses to go without needing to snap the reins, the cart jerking as it pulled away. Easthies’s stomach turned a bit, something he brushed off as nerves. It was, after all, his first time being so far from the Great Hall in quite some time. Or maybe it was because he had only just turned sixteen, with Qifrey being hardly a year older.
Age did not matter when it came to career - while there were some limitations based on how young someone was, there was not much holding them back in terms of completing the tests or striking it out independently. If Easthies wanted to argue, he would point out that he was quite capable of handling himself.
He was simply… out of his depth, at the moment.
But he was still capable, wasn’t he?
Easthies’s finger tapped his knee while he crossed his ankles, keeping his eyes trained on the Windowway. It slowly shrank in size before it was swallowed by the hills.
He was officially away from home.
“... how far do we have to go?” Easthies asked, voice strangely soft.
“Should arrive sometime after midday,” Qifrey responded, pulling out a book from his bag. It was covered with writing, every page appearing to be crammed with ink.
Easthies watched him out of the corner of his eye briefly before going back to analyzing his surroundings. He knew Qifrey had been here before, but it was still odd to see him be so uninterested - as if he had grown tired of it already.
Or maybe it was just because of Easthies’s presence.
He didn’t know, and frankly didn’t care to figure it out. He had bigger problems to be concerned with.
The cart hadn’t made it very far when Easthies felt his stomach turn. He tried to ignore it, keeping his training for such a situation in mind as he felt the urge to vomit continue, then rise. The swaying of the cart continually tested the black-haired teen’s endurance. Just as Easthies thought he would be able to ride out the bout of nausea, the cart jolted. His stomach turned and he barely made it to the edge before he retched.
He felt Qifrey’s hand on his back, heard his irritating voice - no doubt questioning if Easthies was okay. Easthies swatted him away, but he still felt his presence hovering nearby. He clutched the edges of the cart, breathing carefully between retches.
“I hate you,” he muttered venomously, although who he was talking to was questionable.
The cart continued moving, but when it was clear that Easthies would continue to suffer because of it, Qifrey asked the driver to stop. The cart came to a stop, easing some of the nausea immediately. Easthies cast a glance at Qifrey, confused but thankful as he felt his nausea pass. He straightened up, still carefully monitoring his breathing and his stomach as he gingerly made his way down from the cart.
“I’m going to walk,” He stated. “I can’t stand the cart.”
He didn’t look at Qifrey as he said this, instead brushing out his coat before he began making his way down the road once more before anyone could argue. He would much rather deal with dirty shoes and a long walk than the nausea.
Qifrey’s voice drifted down the road, aided by the wind. It seemed he was talking with the driver of the cart, figuring out whether or not they would get into trouble for having Easthies walk on his own, regardless of whether or not the choice had been made by the Knight-in-training.
The wind carried many things with it, not just voices - the scent of summer crept up on Easthies, as well as sunshine and the sweet smell of wildflowers and grass. The sun warmed his skin. It was pleasant. For a moment, Easthies was content with the decision to move out to the Atelier; if every day was as pleasant as this, then the months would pass by quickly.
Easthies heard the sound of the cart jolting into motion. Heard the rattling sound of its wheels grow closer to him before it passed him by.Just the mere memory of riding in it made his stomach turn.
He watched the cart, noting quickly that something was missing - no, someone was missing.
Qifrey.
He no longer sat in the back of the cart, but his belongings were still tucked by the driver’s seat. Easthies furrowed his brows before turning to look behind him.
There was Qifrey, walking just behind Easthies.
“What are you doing?” Easthies’s tone was flat, if not annoyed.
“Walking, clearly,” Qifrey mused, not bothered in the slightest by Easthies’s foul mood.
“Why?”
Both stopped to face one another, Easthies staring Qifrey down and Qifrey returning the sentiment.
“Because I wanted to walk,” he shrugged, rolling his eye as he turned to look out at the endless green fields. “It’s a beautiful day today. I told the driver we would meet her at the atelier.”
Despite his claims, Qifrey’s gaze returned to Easthies. The realization hit Easthies quickly.
“... are you worried about me?” Easthies asked, incredulous.
“Well, yes,” Qifrey turned to face him again. “With your delicate condition, of course I’d be worried that you decide to walk the next several miles alone.”
His gaze flickered to Easthies’s stomach, then back to his face. Easthies’s face reddened. He turned away and readjusted his cloak to better hide his figure from Qifrey’s gaze.
“May I remind you why I am in such a condition?” he whirled around, storming off down the road.
Qifrey watched Easthies’s back for a second, then two. He finally started following after him, amused that he had been so easily flustered.
“I remember very well. Do you need a reminder?”
“Stop talking.”
Qifrey chuckled, but allowed silence to fill the gap between them. While it was entertaining to pester the younger, Qifrey could concede that Easthies needed a break from their typical bickering. His pale face and the dark circles under his eyes told Qifrey that he hadn’t exactly been getting the best of sleep.
For a second, Qifrey felt guilt.
The weather remained pleasant during their walk; Qifrey had mentioned the intense rains in passing to Easthies, so the latter was keeping a closer eye on the skies than Qifrey was. The sun rose as time drew on, the pinks and oranges vanishing. The dark blue sky faded into a rich blue color. Midday came and went, no longer hanging over the teen’s heads. Every mile or so, Easthies would need to sit down and rest, something he clearly felt ashamed about. He used to be able to run for miles before needing a break. Now, he felt exhausted just from existing.
A large, moss-covered rock came into view after an hour of walking. Easthies quickly sat down, stretching out his legs as best he could to ease the sharp pains in the soles of his feet. The surface of the rock was warm, having baked in the sun for hours beforehand. His body felt heavy and hunger clawed at his stomach. He studied his sylph shoes, wishing that he could fly. The last time he had tried, it had not ended well, leading to the discovery of his ‘condition’. Under his cloak, he wrapped his arms around himself, running his thumb along his side. He felt so stupid for not realizing it earlier.
A piece of bread came into his view.
He found the energy to look up. Qifrey stood before him, packed lunch in hand. Easthies took the bread, nodding a bit before he started eating. Qifrey remained standing, the wind tousling his hair as he dug through the bag and handed Easthies food here and there. The ache of hunger lessened.
“Easthies,” Qifrey finally broke the silence.
The teen in question gave a, “Hm?”, more interested in his remaining meal.
“...I’m just curious,” the other prefaced. “Why didn’t you… get rid of it?”
Easthies’s hand froze. His gaze shifted from the food in his hands to Qifrey, meeting his gaze. It was obvious that Qifrey was asking out of general curiosity instead of maliciousness. Had it been the latter, his tone would have been angrier, likely condemning Easthies for making such a decision without the other’s input.
Qifrey mistook Easthies’s initial silence as anger, but remained quiet. Attempting to explain himself would only invoke the others’ fury more than if he had kept his mouth shut. And, to put it bluntly, he felt no need to explain himself to Easthies.
Easthies ignored him, choosing to finish eating his food before answering.
“I didn’t want to,” he said simply, using a handkerchief to wipe his fingers.
“You… didn’t want to?” Qifrey echoed, brows furrowing. “But what about Knight training? Your ‘calling’?”
“I can take temporary leave, given the circumstances,” Easthies stood, once more brushing out his cloak and ignoring the personal jab Qifrey threw in. “My ‘calling’ can handle a small setback.”
“This isn’t a ‘small setback’!”
“Maybe to you, it isn’t. It is to me.”
“And what about Utowin?”
“What about Olruggio?” Easthies shot back.
“... Fair enough,” Qifrey mumbled, looking away. He was blushing, so faint one could easily miss it. “I’m just… confused.”
“Why?” Easthies started walking again, the sun dimming as a cloud passed over. “You’ve never been confused about my choices before.
Qifrey scratched the back of his neck, closing the distance between them. The wind picked up, causing Easthies’s hair to flit about and become tangled. He moved up to brush it back, his hand flinching back in surprise when it didn’t touch metal. Not wearing his Knight uniform was still throwing him off.
“This is… different. The choices you made at the Great Hall were about things related to the Knights and all that. Those were pretty easy to understand. But choosing to keep a pregnancy?”
Pregnancy.
The word still felt strange to Easthies despite the fact that it was the truth. He was pregnant, and Qifrey was (quite unfortunately) the father.
Far on the horizon, the atelier could be seen. It was a small speck compared to the vast fields, but the fact that it could be seen at all filled Easthies with a sense of relief. There was an end in sight.
Easthies set his jaw, sighing.
“I simply didn’t want to. I thought about it for some time before I told you,” he tilted his head to look back at Qifrey as he spoke. “I turned the thought over a million times, yet I came to the same conclusion. If it turns out to be a stupid decision, then that will be my own fault.”
He turned forward again, setting his sights on the atelier. At this pace, they should be there in around an hour. Two, given Easthies’s decreased stamina and need for more breaks.
Qifrey kept quiet for a long time. He was chewing on Easthies’s answer, wondering if that was really all there was to it. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he hadn’t looked away from Easthies’s back the entire time they walked.
Qifrey broached the topic again as Easthies sat in the grass, taking yet another break on their trek.
“So… you want to keep it?”
Easthies didn’t open his eyes, keeping his face tilted up towards the sun. “Yes, Qifrey, I want to keep it.”
“Even though it’s mine?”
“You’re asking a ridiculous amount of questions despite being the one to insist I move out to the atelier for the duration of this pregnancy,” he muttered, opening an eye to look at Qifrey before closing it again.
“You’re better out here than at the Great Hall,” Qifrey responded defensively.
Easthies knew why Qifrey kept bringing up the subject, even if it meant aggravating Easthies. He also figured that Qifrey would continue to bring it up if he did not get a more satisfactory answer.
What a pain…
Easthies chose to go with the less painful option: admitting the real reason he planned to keep the pregnancy. The humiliation of it was far less painful than the thought of Qifrey continually asking him ‘if he was sure’ or hearing continual instances of ‘but what if’s.
“... you are aware I am an orphan, yes?” He tilted his head back down, finally opening his eyes as he looked at Qifrey.
Qifrey nodded.
“Then you should be aware that I do not have the same concept of ‘family’ that others do. I am sure you can relate to this?”
Qifrey nodded again. He knew that Easthies was unaware of to what extent that Qifrey understood, but at the very least he knew that Qifrey did not have parents, either. The reason as to how or why he didn’t have them didn’t matter.
Easthies hesitated, then finally admitted it.
“I… have wanted my own. My own family.”
The white-haired teen appeared stunned at the admission, but most importantly, he didn’t laugh. Instead, he gave a soft, “Oh!” as the realization sank in as to the meaning behind Easthies’s words.
Easthies watched a butterfly flit between one flower and the next.
“At first, I wanted parents. Vinanna certainly was not a parent in the typical sense, so I did not view her as one. Later on, I began considering what it would be like if I were to have my own children.”
Easthies rested his elbow on his knee, placing his chin on his hand. He closed his eyes again, tiredness once more washing over him.
“I just didn’t expect it to occur so soon. But I am not mad that it did.”
The silence stretched, but did not grow uncomfortable. If anything, it was so comfortable that Easthies began to nod off before Qifrey murmured an, “I see”.
They finished their break and once more began walking. Qifrey remained silent, a small blessing to Easthies. Talking with Qifrey right now was a drain to him. Usually, they were at each other’s throats, snipping at one another back and fourth, just as they had been before they left. It made Easthies uneasy to be so cordial with the white-haired teen.
It made him far more eager to reach the atelier and put an end to this walk.
It took an additional hour and fourty-five minutes, as well as several breaks, before they reached the atelier. The driver welcomed them, having unloaded their luggage from the cart ages ago. Easthies approached the front door, passing by Qifrey and the driver before pushing the door open. It gave no resistance, not even a squeal of the hinges. He peered in, taking in the clean floors and large, empty space.
“Must be a newer building…” he mumbled under his breath, leaving Qifrey and the driver behind as he explored what would be his home for the next year or so.
He took in every little detail of the layout. Mentally, he was already considering ways to escape, or debating whether or not it would be difficult to fight in a given room. His hand flexed, the phantom feeling of his pennant causing him a pang of longing. It’s absence was immense.
To the left of the door was a large, circular area. Markings on the floor indicated that Qifrey had plans for this particular area, although they clearly had not come to completion yet. The situation they had found themselves in required him to move in well before the atelier was even ready.
He looked to his right, eyeing a set of stairs. He briefly thought back to the exterior of the home, of the circular building in the same direction. Logically, it would be the living space of the Watchful Eye, given Qifrey’s plans to become a teacher.
Of course, he would have to pass the tests first…
Which tests had he already taken?
It gave Easthies pause, realizing that he didn’t even know what tests Qifrey had already taken. He knew vaguely of Qifrey’s plans, but he didn’t know how far he was from successfully carrying them out. He frowned, discontent now with his own lack of knowledge. He made a note to ask him later - if he found it in himself to really care.
The space directly in front of Easthies was large and echoed slightly when his shoe scraped against the stone floor. There was a hearth in the righthand corner. His mind wandered as he moved towards the door in the lefthand corner - the baby would be born sometime around winter. How would the atelier look when they arrived? Would the hearth keep them all warm?
He pushed the door open with an equal lack of resistance as before. The kitchen and an eating area. Boxes of food sat in the middle of the room, waiting to be put away.
His gaze moved across the room, landing on a set of stairs. He made his way towards it, closing the door behind him carefully. Ascending the stairs found him in another large, empty area that was largely comprised of doors. A quick investigation revealed work areas and their adjoining living spaces to one side and a separate room to the other.
The room in question surprisingly had furniture within.
A bed, dresser, chest, desk, and chair were carefully placed within. At a glance, Easthies could tell that the manner in which the furniture had been placed was for maximum production, reminiscent of how he had had his own room back at the Great Hall. He would have to do the same, here. The bed and desk were close together, just in case one wanted to roll out of bed and begin work immediately. The dresser was a mere few steps away. The chest rested at the bottom of the bed.
The bed itself was a feather bed, neatly made with heavy blankets and soft pillows. It looked incredibly inviting for Easthies, exhausted as he was. He refrained from the urge to jump into the bed without bothering to even remove his cloak and pass out, turning his attention to the desk.
There was a spell in the works on it, a meticulously cared-for pen laid beside the parchment. The circle was incomplete, and a few balls of parchment indicated that this was not the first draft. The chair was plush and appeared to have been pushed away from the desk. A rug lay beneath both desk and chair, faded.
“Must have owned this rug for some time,” Easthies mumbled to himself.
He heard Qifrey’s voice downstairs, as well as the driver’s. They must be moving things into the atelier. He certainly wasn’t going to help - Qifrey was the one who wanted him moving in here, but he never stated that Easthies had to help move a thing. If anything, this morning’s events told him that Qifrey didn’t want him to do anything.
Amused with himself, Easthies went back to studying the room and noticed a bookshelf along one wall. Approaching it revealed various titles; some Easthies already knew. Others, he did not. His fingers traced the spines of a few he recognized. Qifrey had quite the collection.
Maybe he would let Easthies read some.
Easthies finally turned his attention to the window seat; there was a plush cushion, a million different pillows, and even had a blanket strewn across part of it. Easthies picked a pillow up - warm to the touch, and smelled like the sun. This was even more tempting than the bed had been.
He suddenly felt exhausted.
Finally willing to give in to his exhaustion, he walked over to the chair, removing his cloak and gently draping it over the arm of the chair. While he couldn’t spot any visible dirt, he wasn’t about to risk dirtying the cushions and pillows. After, he carefully removed his shoes, wincing now that he realized just how sore they were. He had become numb to the sensation at some point, but it became noticeable once he felt the soft rug under his feet. Easthies gathered up the shoes by their backs, placing them neatly against the wall next to the chair.
Finally content, he walked back to the window seat, watching as a bird zipped past and the wind picked up, rustling the grass outside. He noticed that the cart was making its way away from the atelier, the driver’s errand finally complete. He sat in the window seat, taking in the sights as he carefully combed out his hair with his fingers.
Looking out at the plains was different when viewing them from inside a home compared to walking amongst them. It felt disconnected, almost.
The weather was still brilliant. Bright sun and rich blue skies with bright white clouds. He undid the window lock, opening the window ever-so-slightly. Once more, he felt the cool wind and enjoyed the smell of grass, breathing in deeply.
He laid himself out across the seat, stretching before curling into a ball. He pulled a pillow close, resting his head against it.
It was stupidly soft.
Warm.
It even smelled nice.
It was almost unfair what an advantage the pillow had when it came to Easthies’s fight against sleep.
He sank into the cushion, eyes growing heavy rapidly despite trying to list the things he needed to do in an effort to keep himself awake. He didn’t realize just how much energy he had used - or maybe it was just the pregnancy, draining him of what little he had.
Regardless of the reason, he allowed himself to sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.
“Easthies?” Qifrey called.
Silence greeted him.
“Easthies!” He tried again.
Still no answer.
The younger hadn’t been seen in quiet some time. He couldn’t have ran off, as Qifrey would have noticed him walking away from the atelier. That, and he was well aware that Easthies’s travel options were limited. He wasn’t about to walk another few hours after today’s walk. Qifrey’s own Windowway had yet to be built, and Easthies had told him about his inability to use his sylph shoes. So where could he have gone?
Qifrey couldn’t help but be concerned. This was, after all, no longer just about Easthies. Had it just been Easthies, Qifrey wouldn’t care less - he was capable on his own, and didn’t take kindly to Qifrey in general.
But it wasn’t just Easthies, now.
It was also Qifrey’s unborn son or daughter, said child draining Easthies of energy and preventing him from fighting should he ever find himself in danger.
He had checked the separate living quarters first. Logically, Easthies would want his own space away from Qifrey, which is why it was surprising to see that he hadn’t done so. The witch made his way across the bridge and through the living area of the main house. Still no sign of him, not even the creak of a floorboard overhead to alert him of whether he was even in the building anymore.
He bit his lip as he glanced around the kitchen. He wasn’t here, and the food boxes appeared untouched. That must mean he was elsewhere.
He made sure Easthies was nowhere downstairs before making his way up the stairwell. The room Qifrey stepped into was also empty; he checked the workshops, then the rooms above the workshops, finding nothing and no one.
“Did he go into my room?” Qifrey muttered, furrowing his brow.
He didn’t think it was likely, but he decided to check anyway. It was the only other place he hadn’t checked yet.
The moment he opened the door, he saw him.
Easthies had commandeered the window seat. The window - which Qifrey definitely remembers closing this morning - was propped open and a blanket drawn around his sleeping form. His black hair cascaded down the edge, a stark contrast to the brightly-colored pillows. He didn’t stir when Qifrey approached him, nor when he called his name.
Qifrey put his hands on his hips, sighing as he took in the situation.
Not just this one, but everything.
He took a deep breath, tilting his head up.
Alright. It’s fine. He can do this.
“Well, you’ve certainly made yourself comfortable, haven’t you?” He murmured as he exhaled.
His hands dropped to his sides. He wasn’t about to move Easthies, nor would he wake him up, as much as Qifrey wanted to.
First things first - he closed the window. It was going to rain, and he didn’t want the water to soak his pillows. Magic or no, it would be a pain to clean them after the fact.
He made sure the lock was properly engaged, just as an extra measure to prevent the windows from bursting open should the rain come with strong winds.
The weather could be quite temperamental here, something Easthies hadn’t yet learned.
Secondly, he would make them both something to eat. Making food would prove to be more beneficial than inciting an argument when Easthies was so tired and less patient. Qifrey had seen how Easthies had enjoyed the food they’d eaten on their way here, and that hadn’t even been made fresh nor kept warm. He could only imagine how he would react to some proper food. Qifrey hoped that food would be great leverage in maintaining ownership of his window seat.
He could already tell that Easthies had taken a liking to said window seat and would be quick to defend his use of it. Qifrey wouldn’t put it past him to use the pregnancy as a bargaining chip during negotiations. But Qifrey also happened to like that window seat, which is why he was even going through this whole process to begin with.
If it were up to Easthies, he would never get his window seat back.
With the new plan in mind, Qifrey made his way out of the room, closing the door softly behind him and leaving Easthies sleeping soundly.