Sixteen: When Elves Fly 

Everett gasps wildly as the vine loosens itself from his throat. He slinks down against the trunk, his back scraping against the rough bark all the way until he makes contact with the ground. His face is swollen, still red from the assault. His chest heaves, expands, and contracts in rapid succession.  

The old lady reaches for her long silver hair, drawing it to the side and letting out a relieved breath.  

“That one did wonders for my hair.” She cackles. “How tragic it was, but I kept my promise. The boy is saved. Now, get off my property before I comb through his brain instead. And I will not be so kind to him as I was to you.”  

Floryn hisses at her as she disappears into the thrush, hurrying over to the weak prince. He gets level with him, his knees digging deep into the bog mud below him.  

“Everett?” He asks, hovering his hands over the prince’s face with a trembling voice. Everett’s head is slumped downward, and the elf cannot tell if his eyes are open or not. “Please speak to me, make a noise, anything.” 

The prince is unresponsive.  

Floryn whimpers, reaching his hands out carefully and taking hold of the prince’s waist. He easily lifts him into the air and into another bridal style. This time, the way the prince’s body felt in his arms was terrifying. He was dead weight, unmoving and still. The only thing that allowed Floryn to hope was the tiny, shallow breaths escaping the prince’s mouth.  

He knew he needed to hurry. He needed to find help before the prince slipped away forever, just out of his eager grasp. The elf rushes into the dark wooden landscape, feeling dizzier with each step that hits the ground. His heart pounded like a wooden mallet against his ribcage, like a stone was set loose in his chest.  

Floryn wished that elves could fly.  

 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ 

 

When Everett awoke, he was somewhere he knew not. A shaded place; a place to feel the cool nightly breeze. He was not sure how long it had been, how far they had gone into the woods, or how he got up in this flowering tree.  

That was it, he suddenly realized. The heavy feeling was the dangle of his legs, swaying underneath him. The hardness was his back against the rough bark of it. The coolness was the breeze of the night. Floryn had, somehow, hauled them both up a tree and to safety.  

“Everett? Have you awoken?” Floryn’s exhausted voice whispers in the wind, and Everett turns his head.  

Floryn looks rough. His hood is drawn back, eyes crystallized with dried tears. It was apparent he had been crying, at something; Everett wasn’t sure? Surely the elf could not have worried himself to tears. Not over Everett.  

“You’ve been crying?” Everett asks, and Floryn lets out the longest sigh of relief.  

Floryn reaches a hand up to wipe at his eyes. Everett notices that he had removed his gloves, along with other articles of clothing. He blushes, turning away.  

“Why are you naked?”  

Floryn scoffs, a little smile forming on his mouth.  

“Okay, I am not naked. That’s a gross exaggeration. I used my robes for your wounds. I needed something to wrap them with. And I was just sweating. That’s all.”  

“Sweating with your eyes? Is that something that elves do?” Everett laughs at the man’s ridiculous attempt at a lie. Floryn grows flustered, turning his face away, and when Everett turns to look the same way, he notices just how stunning nights could be in the Elfwood forest.  

They’re both silent for a while, and Floryn clears his throat. 

“Do you remember anything?”  

“Bits and pieces. I remember the lady. And the vine wrapping around me. And her horrid breath. Like, I mean, truly, be evil all you want, but to neglect your hygiene is the true wickedness.” Everett rambles, leaning his head back onto the trunk. Floryn rolls his eyes.  

“Of course you’d care about the smell of her breath.” 

“When she’s that close to my face, of course I do!” Everett whines. 

“And I’m sure your breath always smells like sugar and honey, doesn’t it, princess?” His voice is teasing and light, but Everett can tell there’s something bothering him still. The prince does not push. He knows the assassin will break soon enough. 

Everett scoffs arrogantly, “Well... in normal circumstances. Yes, it does.” 

They fall silent after a few long-lasting chuckles. Everett rubs gently at his bruised neck. His palms were wrapped tightly, along with his shins, and his back had clearly been washed with water likely from a nearby river. Just how much had Floryn undressed him to tend to his wound? He knew that was an immature thing to think of, but he thought of it, nonetheless. A small blush rises on his face.  

Why, after all of that, did Everett still feel the happiest he had in a long, long time?  

“Are you cold?” Floryn inquires although he is wearing much less than the prince.  

“No. Quite alright. You’ve wrapped me up adequately.”  

“Perfect. That was the goal.” Floryn laughs, leaning his head back onto the trunk as well. He bites on his lip, craning his head slightly so he can keep an eye on Everett. His heart flutters in his chest, his breath caught up in his throat. How did he go about a conversation he didn’t know how to start? 

“It’s beautiful.” Everett says instead, lifting a hand to gesture to the star-filled sky, dark and glowing at the same time. Polar opposites exist in a majestic landscape, untouched by village and royal life. Everett understood completely why some people chose to live here over the kingdoms. He would have done so much earlier if he had the choice.  

“Yeah. Sure is.” Floryn mutters beneath his breath, staring hard at Everett’s side profile. Sure, the night was beautiful, but not much could draw his eyes off of the prince. Not after what happened. What he knew that he hadn’t known before. He clears his throat once again, embarrassed at his sudden infatuation. “Do you remember what the bog witch took from me?”  

“She took something?” Everett scans the elf’s face with worried eyes. “What did she take?” 

“A memory.” 

“Is... is it gone?”  

“Yes. Kind of. The main memory is gone from my mind, yes, but I have countless memories of remembering the moment. If that makes any sense at all.” Floryn rubs his hairline, straightening down some fly-away strands. 

“So, you have back-up memories of the moment? I suppose that makes sense.” Everett hums, and his curiosity gets the better of him. “What was it?”  

“It’s... hard to explain. And it is a long story.”  

“I simply have all night.” Everett gestures to the moon, still high in the clouds. They had many hours until sunrise, and it was clearly not safe to traverse any further in the woods at night. “And I will continue to bother you until you tell me.” 

“Alright, I understand. You’re curious, but you might not like what you hear.”  

“Do you wish to organize a bet?” Everett sneers. “Or do you wish to tell me the story?” 

“You’re much too impatient.” Floryn hisses, drawing up a leg and wrapping his arms around it. “But since you insist. And since I am an elf, and there are many things about elves which you do not know, I will start there. Every elf is destined for another elf. We are linked through the power of Mother Nature.” 

“Destined in what way?” Everett interrupts, to which Floryn rolls his eyes.  

“Destined for... love. Humans have a similar concept, although not bound by magic. You may call us soulmates, but nonetheless, it works the same way. We hold a ceremony in Sylnebel for these pairings. It’s called the ceremony of touch. Around ten years ago, I went to Sylnebel for my own ceremony of touch.” 

“Ceremony of touch? Sounds creepy.” Everett mutters, unable to stop himself. 

“It sounds strange, especially to humans, but to elves, it’s sacred. Two elves that are destined to one another can tell through touch. Skin to skin. If there is a spark, per se, it means that they are destined to be.” Floryn heaves a breath. “When I went, every child had a pairing. They all found their soulmates. It was only me without one. This is the memory that the bog witch took.” 

Everett is quiet a moment.  

“Well, it’s good she took that one, because that’s awfully depressing! How come you don’t have a destined-elf-mate?”  

Floryn fidgets with his fingers for a moment, and Everett can see the sweat form sturdy above his brow. Everett was unsure if he’d seen Floryn be quite this nervous. Perhaps only when the bog witch had threatened their lives.  

“I do.” Floryn is looking away from Everett, ashamed. “I just... wasn’t aware that I did.” 

“What do you mean?” Everett is leaning forward now, invested in the truth.  

Floryn says nothing.  Instead, he slowly, delicately, reaches out his palm face up. Everett stares at it, bewildered.  

“Is this some kind of joke?” He accuses.  

The elf says nothing to his question, so Everett lets out a little sigh. It was strange to him that Floryn always wore gloves, even when it was blistering hot outside. In fact, he covered most of his body, save for his face.  

So, it was possible, wasn’t it? They had never touched skin-to-skin before, had they? But it could not be true, because as the bog witch had said, humans and Fae cannot be destined, right? It would make no sense. 

Hardened in his belief that they were, in fact, not destined, Everett takes a hold of Floryn’s unwavering palm. He gasps at the contact. A flowing wave of pleasure shoots up his arm, sending shivers up and down his spine in varying waves. His whole body feels electric, like someone took a match and lit his body aflame. Floryn lets out a surprised groan, seemingly not used to the bond himself.  

Everett rips his hand away and draws it tight to his chest.

“Oh.” He whispers, and his voice is lost on the vast, windy night.