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She took me to her Elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lullèd me asleep,
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
Thee hath in thrall!’
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
John Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci
“Your body is not meant to carry pieces of broken glass”, Olruggio had said one day, eyes still full of sleep, his body wrapped in Qifrey’s sheets. It was one of those nights where Olruggio found out everything, and Qifrey had wanted nothing more than to fall into his best friend’s arms, but he had instead wiped out Olruggio’s memories, to remember once again that he couldn't fall to the branches’ delicious embrace without betraying his one and only.
Maybe he did hope, for a moment, that his stained hands were meant to cup his lover’s face, to hold him, to let himself sink into his warmth. Maybe he let himself believe that these hands of his could be used to continue taking care of four magnificent girls, to brush their hair gently and to teach them the ways of life. That his shaking broken body was meant to build the foundations of his home, rather than to shackle them.
Instead, he closed the glyph, and Olruggio’s eyes clouded over with the colour of betrayal before sliding shut.
He could hope, but in the end, his body riddled by the broken glass of his surreptitious wretched sins was meant to destroy his happiness before he even had the chance to taste it.
Falling in love was always the easy part; folding his heart into pieces discarded years ago, to make sure the organ never learned how to beat again, was harder, but manageable.
But then, Qifrey opened the door of his atelier, and saw his best friend and his girls, preparing their meals together. He saw Coco's bright smile when she called him to evaluate her new fire spell, the smell of freshly baked bread, Tetia swirling in the kitchen, Richeh’s glowing ribbons hanging on the walls, Agott silent pen scratching Coco's sheet of papers to correct her spells, Olruggio tasting their stew. It made him realise how foolish he was, thinking he could craft this scenery without breaking it. How foolish he was, to think that having a family would do anything to him except wanting to lay down all his years of worries and lies to accept his fate.
After all, his roots would very much like to grow into such fertile soil.
Olruggio drew with the tip of his fingers the outline of Qifrey’s hands, every single one of his fingers, then went back to his arm, his shoulder. Qifrey shivered. This was not exactly uncharted territory. They had already held one another more times than Olruggio had burned himself developing his glowing-stone contraption (which meant: a lot of times; Qifrey still remembered how he used to fuss over him and bandage his bruised hands). But Olruggio was still careful, as his fingers softly brushed Qifrey’s neck and his cheek. He gently placed Qifrey’s glasses on the bedside table. Qifrey said nothing and closed his eye. Olruggio’s hand lingered on Qifrey’s face for a few minutes, brushing his lips, his eye, never over his scarred skin, and then his hand got lost in his white locks. Olruggio buried his nose in Qifrey's neck and inhaled slowly, before kissing the tender skin there, sweetly, almost reverently. The rest of the night was spent under the sheets.
As always, in the morning, they did not talk about this night, like every time it had happened before.
Qifrey was in the kitchen, humming tenderly a song as he put oatmeal into the girls’ bowls. Tetia was already awake beside him, helping him prepare breakfast. Her omelette smelled delicious, and Qifrey gently patted her head.
“Thank you for your help, Tetia.”
The girl broke into a wild grin.
“Thank you for your thank you! I'm gonna wake the girls up.”
She ran into the stairs, and Qifrey didn’t have the heart to tell her to be careful. She never fell once, after all.
Breakfast was always a happy occurrence, at least ever since Coco managed to get Agott out of her room more often than not. The sun pierced through the clouds, bathing the room into its warm light, and Olruggio, the most precious star of all, was looking at him fondly from across the table. It was a great morning. Qifrey picked up his cup, and Brushbuddy jumped on his knees at the same time. The tea spilled all over the table. The girls laughed, and Qifrey couldn't even be mad at the cute little fluffy thing. He laughed as well.
“Nymphaeas,” whistled Olruggio, impressed.
Qifrey only smiled, and adjusted the lines of his next spell, before closing his circle. A whole field of those glowing water lilies filled the river. Qifrey, finally satisfied, let himself fall down in the grass next to his slouched best friend. Olruggio picked up a leaf on the ground and used it to tickle Qifrey’s neck. The water witch barked a laugh and threw himself at Olruggio. They fought playfully for a few minutes in the grass, under the moon’s gentle stare, like the children they definitely weren't anymore. Qifrey managed to eject Olruggio with a soft strike and sat down.
“Silly you,” complained Qifrey while punching Olruggio's arm, “I stained my cloak."
Olruggio simply shrugged. “I’ll do the laundry to make amends.”
In front of them, the river was still glowing with Qifrey’s spell, a thousand bright nymphaeas dancing softly at the edge of the water. They would fade away in a few hours, as easily as the stars are swept away by the sun’s arrival.
“They’re gorgeous, Qifrey,” said Olruggio sincerely. “The girls will absolutely love them. You wouldn't be half bad at fulfilling nobles' silly wishes, you know, with this keen eye for aesthetics.”
Qifrey dismissed the comment with a laugh.
“I'll leave the art of inventing contraptions to you, dear Olly. I much prefer to be an educator.”
Olruggio's expression softened.
“And you’re a really great one, on top of that. The girls adore you.”
“As much as I adore them, rest assured.”
Olruggio fell back on the grass and observed the stars.
“Honestly, sometimes I'm kind of envious of you. You have this job so fulfilling, whereas I'm stuck on appealing to stupid nobles whose only purpose is to show off their wealth.”
“Don’t say that, Olly,” whispered Qifrey. He slipped his hand on Olruggio's closed fist before resuming: “Your spells change the world, if only for a little bit. Think about how you gave Coco her love for magic. And think about me. I am oh so fond of your magic, and you know damn well how much it has saved me over the years.”
Olruggio squeezed Qifrey’s hand. They stared at each other for a long time. The nocturnal wind gently shook their hair, and the night was theirs. Their hearts were beating on the same rhythm, the same melody. They almost kissed, but Qifrey interrupted it by suddenly turning his head. He kept his eye on the river. He couldn't bear to see Olruggio's crestfallen expression.
“You know, it was this spell which taught me not to be afraid of magic,” confessed Qifrey, to dispel the uneasy atmosphere. “It was one of the first weeks after Beldaruit took me in. He showed me those flowers – you know how he is with illusions – and I was absolutely awestruck. I guess I fell a bit in love with magic at that time. I absolutely wanted to recreate it, but Belraduit told me he couldn't teach me such a complex spell without me knowing the basics.”
“You never told me,” answered Olruggio. His tone was untypically neutral, and Qifrey still had his back to him.
Qifrey let out an awkward laugh. “It’s a bit silly, isn't it? Glowing flowers that fade away as soon as the night is over. They’re not meant to last. In the Great Hall, I was constantly exposed to magic, beautiful and clever magic, but the only spell that caught my eye was something so full of unusefulness.”
“You’re anything but a silly man, Qifrey,” said Olruggio next to his ear. Slowly, as if he were afraid of him running away, his best friend hugged him from behind. And Qifrey surrendered to the embrace: he leaned back in Olruggio's arms. “Except when you deny yourself the right to act like one.”
“My my, how philosophical.”
“Shut up. What I'm trying to say is… how to put it. You tend to have your judgement clouded by your self loathing, but I assure you, there is nothing stupid about liking an unuseful spell.”
And finally, Qifrey turned around. Olruggio’s hands cupped his face, and Qifrey closed his eye.
The kiss was soft, as they tended to usually be with the two of them. Not that he would know what it was like to kiss other witches. Qifrey only ever wanted to try with Olruggio.
They both fell, the day they swapped their tassels to seal this wicked pact, back when they were still children, under the Tower of Tome’s stare, but only one of them remembered it. They were both colliding towards the same fate, but only one of them knew that the land that would await them was a field of thorns.
Qifrey shed a tear as he kissed Olruggio harder.
How utterly, painfully sweet it was, to finally be acknowledged a home, only for being the one to destroy it.