Chapter Text
James’s father was a potter. So, his brother, Peter, was one, too, and so was James, though he was neither very passionate nor very good at it.
In their village, everyone knew or thought they knew that James was the dim-witted brother. He was of little talent and intellect and was generally a little odd. He liked animals and talked to them as if he understood their answers. He learned how to imitate their noises. He was always smiling and knew how to charm people, although most of the things he told were stories he had imagined rather than lived.
When he was a child, his mother passed but his father did not explain this, so he never learned what death meant and did not fear it. He did not fear many things. No, he feared nothing at all. Even as a child, when all the children sat around a campfire and told tales of dragons, witches and child-eating devils, James sat there and laughed and did not understand what had the other children in such a state of fright.
When there was a lightning storm, and thunder roared above their heads, James walked out and danced in the rain.
His father would scold him. “I’m afraid you’ll get sick,” he said, and, “I’m afraid the lightening shall strike you.” And then he asked, “Are you not scared of the sound and the sudden light through the sky?”
And James said, no. “What does it feel like? Being scared? Being frightened?”
“Have you never been frightened?”
And again, he said no.
“It is true,” his brother Peter said. “No matter what I do, I cannot frighten him. No trick can make him jump. It is terribly boring.”
And this worried the old potter, as he thought fear was a skill needed for survival.
When James was three and twenty years old, he still had never felt fear. His father and brother were scared to walk the graveyard, and he did not know why. Others were afraid of the dark, and he did not know why. And some were afraid of him, because he wasn’t afraid, and he did not know why this was either.
One day, the old potter lamented about his son to the vicar.
“Learning how to fear? That is not hard. Your son shall soon be corrected.”
So, James was to work in the small church, and at every hour of the night strike the church bells. He did not fear heights, nor understood why anyone should, so he gladly took on the work. During the day he worked on his pottery, then he slept, and as night came he climbed up the tower and rang the bell at every hour.
As he sat there one night, he looked up at the stars to pass the time. He connected the lights until they painted pretty pictures. He liked to draw them on his pottery but no one understood what the symbols meant, so those pieces did not sell.
To get to the tower, one had to step up a ladder and climb through a hatch. As James sat there and waited. He glimpsed a white shadow walking in the chamber beneath him.
“Hello?” He called. “Who goes there?”
He received no answer. A moment later, the white figure reappeared at the foot of the ladder. It wore a mask, like that of the plague doctors, but white.
“Who are you? What do you want?” James called to him. “We need no doctor here.”
The figure responded in a deep, echoing voice. “I am Death!”
“We need no death here either,” James called. “No one is dying at the moment.”
“I have come to take you!” The figure responded and cackled.
James sighed. “My apologies, Lord Death, but that is impossible. I have to strike the bell at every hour, you see? It is my duty, so you may not take me now. I must ask you to leave and return another time.”
The figure seemed stunted for a moment. He put his hands on the ladder and began to climb up. “I am Death! I will take you now! I am coming to get you.”
“You see, that is not possible either, Lord Death,” James said. “No one is allowed up here but I. You mustn’t come up or I shall throw you back down and fulfil my duty.”
The white man did not listen. He cackled and muttered about death as he climbed the ladder.
When he reached the top and reached for James, the young man sighed and said, “I have warned you.” Then he put his shoe against the man’s shoulder and pushed him back down. He lost his grip on the ladder and fell. His heavy body hit the floor beneath the ladder and stayed there, motionlessly.
Morning came, and as James climbed down the tower, released from his nightly duties, he found the white figure, still lying at the foot of the ladder.
“Oh, you are still here,” he said. “Are you injured?”
He pulled off the mask and revealed the face of the vicar, who looked up at him with anger and fright.
“You,” he cried. “Get away from me, you scoundrel!”
James, worried about the poor vicar’s health, returned to his father and brother. They promised to go and look after the man but told James to leave.
“The people will turn against you,” the old potter said. “I can feel it in my bones. My heart tightens at the thought! Better leave before they will chase you out!”
“You are afraid!” James recognised.
“Yes! Yes, I am afraid! I am scared for your life and soul, boy. How can you still not fear anything?”
James bit his tongue in shame. He did not know why could not feel fear the way everyone else did.
“I will learn it,” he promised. “I shall go and learn to be frightened. I promise it. And then, when I can finally feel like normal people do, I will return and you will be proud of me.”
So it came that James took a bit of money, food, and some of his pottery to sell, and went forth to learn fear.
***
James passed through villages, always staying a day or two to sell his pottery and earn coin to buy himself food, a bed, and time at the wheel in the local potter’s workshop. When fatigue overtook him on the road, he slept beneath a tree.
As he met many different people, he sometimes asked what frightened them.
“The woods, as it is full of animals and bandits,” said one.
“The high tower for I might fall,” said another.
“Fire, for it shall burn me alive,” said a third.
As he was about to enter another town, a wanderer who had joined him pointed at a tree, and said, “There is the tree, where three wedded the roper’s daughter and are now learning to fly; sit under it and wait until nightfall and you shall learn to be frightened.”
James rejoiced at the thought of finally learning fear and did as instructed. He sat beneath the tree by the three men hanging from the branches, tied to ropes, and lit a fire to keep himself warm.
“So, the wanderer told me, you all married the same woman? Could you not each find one?”
The men did not answer.
“Is it a hard topic to speak about? I understand. I shall ask no more about it.”
He sat in silence for a while longer and ate his bread.
“May I ask,” he said to the men above, “what frightens you? I ask everybody until I can find a thing that might frighten me too. You see, I don’t know how to do it, be afraid that is. I don’t feel fear, and so people think I’m odd and shall not live among them. So, what is it for you? What do you fear?”
And again, the men did not answer, which James thought to be impolite.
A cold wind blew past him, and he tightened his blanket.
“Oh, I truly am an idiot!” He exclaimed suddenly. “I call you impolite but it is me! I sit by the warm fire while you must be freezing up there!”
So he climbed up the tree and untied the ropes one by one, lowering the men to the ground. He helped them sit by the fire, so they might regain their warmth. But one of them sat too closely, and as James warned him to not let his clothes catch fire, he did not listen, and so he set himself ablaze.
James rushed to his aid, pulled the man away and tore away another man’s coat to quell the flame.
He remembered that someone claimed to be afraid of fire, but even now, he did not understand it.
The men did not talk to him for the rest of the night.
The next morning, the wanderer returned and asked whether James knew what fear was now. But as he saw the hung men sitting on the ground, staring ahead with lifeless eyes, he cried in fright and ran away.
When James arrived in the nearby town, the story of him taking down the men had already spread. A man welcomed him into his tavern and offered food and drink free of charge. James could not accept this, as he did not know what for, and instead invited the man to dine with him.
He explained that the men were sentenced to death by hanging for killing their sister, but no one believed it. Everyone knew that the girl had either run away or was kidnapped by an aristocrat who had had an eye on her. It were those aristocrat’s men who had sentenced and hung the brothers.
The innkeeper’s daughter, a beautiful young girl with red hair and blush-pink cheeks, had joined them. “It is my greatest fear,” she admitted, “being put to death for a crime I did not commit.”
“I think it would enrage, but not frighten me,” James said.
“They were good lads,” the innkeeper mourned. “So thank you, for taking them down and putting an end to their vile humiliation.”
James said, not to thank him. He felt it was an exaggerated gesture as he had no idea about the whole ordeal when he did it. He asked about the local potter and got work there, so he stayed for a week to make new pottery to sell.
***
James continued his way through a dense forest, thinking maybe the dark thicket and wild animals might scare him.
As he so walked, he was distracted by a noise. It sounded like a man calling for a cat.
James walked towards the voice and there, between trees, saw a man.
He had wavy hair of the blackest night, reaching down to his chin. He was clad in dark green travel clothes of fine making, a stark contrast to the white skin of his hands and neck. James’s eyes got stuck on the man’s face, then. He might have been the most handsome creature he had ever laid eyes on. The sunlight peeking through the trees painted a golden hue over his hair and cheeks. His nose curved the tiniest bit, his jawline was straight and sharp, and his cheekbones sat high on his face. The man looked around the trees and stomped his foot in frustration.
James stepped back from the trees and turned around to gather himself. He ran his hands over his hair, trying to smooth wild mess, and straightened his glasses. When he was sure that his jacket was straight and his boots were as clean as they got, he stepped forth between the trees.
The man was gone.
James walked into the little clearing where he had stood, and turned around his own axis, in confusion. Where had he gone? He could not have vanished into thin air.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, as a dagger was unsheathed. The breath was knocked out of James’s lungs as he was forced backwards until his back hit a tree. The handsome man stood in front of him, one hand on his jacket, the other wrapped around a dagger, which he held against James’s throat.
“Did you really think you could sneak up on me to rob and kill me? Forget it.”
Up close, he had faint freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks, and his eyes were silver and glinted like starlight, framed by long, black lashes. James was mesmerized by them.
“What?” the man demanded when he didn’t speak. “Do you think I cannot use this?”
“Oh, I’m sure you could. I am certain you are very skilled with the knife, my Lord.”
The man squinted at him. “Yet, you do not seem frightened.”
“No, my Lord.”
He looked puzzled. Then he seemed to discard the thought and concentrate on the knife again. “What is it that you want?”
“I… I just saw you and I wondered whether you needed help,” he said. “And I wanted to see you up close.”
He was so taken aback by the words, that he removed the dagger from James’s throat.
“Up close? So you could see what valuables I have on me?”
“No. I’m not a bandit or a robber or a kidnapper or murderer. I am just a simple wanderer.”
He looked him up and down, and when he seemed satisfied, he put the knife away.
“And what are you doing out here in the forest, my Lord? All alone?”
“What makes you think I’m a Lord?”
“Your clothes,” James said, pointing at the fine jacket and boots. “Your face, your voice. Am I mistaken?”
“I am no Lord. My companions and I are aimlessly wandering about this countryside. They’re hoping to find a miracle.”
“A miracle?” James asked intrigued. “Maybe I can help you find it.”
“I doubt it, simple wanderer. I am not interested in a miracle, either. I am looking for my cat. She is the dearest thing in the world to me, but she was frightened by one of our horses and ran here.”
“Your cat?”
The man glanced at him, coldly. “If you make fun of me, I’ll have you hanged.”
“I thought you are no Lord.”
“I know many Lords. And I know the King. Now, go. She will not come out if you are here.” He walked away from James and called, “Lady Cassiopeia, come out, come out, and I promise to feed you from my plate tonight.”
Lady Cassiopeia, the cat, James presumed, did not show.
“Maybe I can help you,” James said again. “I am skilled with animals and their noises.”
“That sounds like a truly useless skill.”
“Just you wait.” He sat down his pack and cracked his back. The other man watched him with raised eyebrows.
James took a bowl he had made and filled it with a bit of milk. Then he stepped back, put his hands to his mouth and chirped like a fat little birdie, begging to be eaten.
The man rolled his eyes.
James cleared his throat and then imitated a kitten’s call for her mother. The cat shot out from between the trees like a bolt of lightning. It stopped in the clearing, looking about, and finally took to the bowl of milk.
The rich man gasped and picked up the animal, pressing it to his chest. “Cassy, oh how I missed you. I was so worried. Never do that again.”
James grinned and picked up the bowl, holding it to the cat’s mouth so she may drink.
“Do you still think my skill is useless?” He asked.
“Absolutely. It was the dumbest thing I have ever seen and it was even more ridiculous that it worked!” he laughed and kissed the cat’s head.
His laugh sounded like music and evenings spent with mates until they fell over from either drink or laughter.
The silver eyes, focus on him instead of the cat again. “Thank you. I must return to my companions now. I wish you good luck wherever you are headed.”
As the man was about to turn and leave him forever, James said, “You know, I have learned from my mother that luck should always be given through a kiss or it does not stick.”
The man looked at him for a moment, as if he were to assess his worthiness of a kiss. Then, still holding the cat, he stepped back to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good luck, simple wanderer.”
James felt the kiss linger on his skin, he touched it, chasing the warmth. He felt dizzy when he thought back to it. When he came to, the man had already disappeared between the trees.
***
James wandered on and still did not know what fear was when he reached a town next to a large, dark forest, which the residents called cursed.
As he was selling his pots and vases on the market, explaining that the patterns meant to be stars, and asking what frightened the people, he was told that for a year, the town was plagued by a ferocious beast. It appeared every full moon in the shape of a wolf. Moon for moon, it slayed the farmers’ animals, ran rampage in the streets and the forest, destroying everything in its wake, and two moons ago, a brave hunter had gone to kill it but was slain in turn.
The towns’ people – everyone from the croon to the babe – were frightened. Many sold everything they owned and prepared to leave forever, as they were afraid the wolf would break into their houses and steal their children.
James felt for the poor people. It wasn’t right for them to go. It was the wolf who should leave.
At the same time, he could not help but be hopeful. Everyone was frightened of the wolf, so James might fear it, too. So, the decision was made to go into the forest at night as the moon was full and see the beast.
He stayed in the village for two weeks, waiting for the moon to fill, while working on his pottery. As he had leftover clay, he made a deformed little thing with a tail and pointy ears and declared it to be a cat. The potter, who let him use his space, just laughed at him.
“Are you truly a potter?” He asked. “Are you sure?”
“Well, my father is. And my brother also, so I am, too. Though, if there were another thing I was good at, I might do that instead.”
Then the potter asked what he was good at and James said nothing, for he did not want to mention the animals and their calls, or recognizing pictures in the stars.
The moon was round and silver, almost like the eyes of the fair man with the cat.
As James entered the forest, a loud, guttural howl echoed through the trees. It was a good noise for a scary beast, he thought and went ahead.
Dried leaves churned and cracked beneath his boots, telling anyone around of his arrival. He was in search of the wolf, so why should he hide from it?
As he stood in a clearing, and the grass was painted blue by moonlight, he put his hands to his mouth and howled like a wolf.
He listened. The woods around him were dead silent.
He howled again.
A twig snapped beneath a heavy paw. James looked to his right, and a long, grey snout emerged from the darkness. It was followed by a massive head and two yellow eyes, as unforgiving and eternal as the sun.
Finally, the wolf stood before him in all its glory. It was twice the size of a normal wolf. It bared its fangs, each as sharp as a dagger, and growled.
His breath reeked.
James grimaced. “Mate, you really have to brush your teeth.”
The wolf narrowed his eyes and, setting one paw before the other, came closer as he growled.
With this size, no wonder he was destroying half of the town.
James searched his heart and his body for frightened reactions. People have described it as quickly beating hearts, shortness of breath, stuttering, and weak knees. James was breathing fine, his heart was beating as usual, and his knees were as strong as ever. He sighed in disappointment.
“Listen, Mr Wolf, I came here to be frightened, but I’m not. The town’s folk, however, you scare them. They are so frightened, they are leaving their homes. It is really very impolite.”
The wolf was circling him, looking him up and down as if seizing up his prey.
“You probably do not even want to be evil, do you? You are simply too big for this town and too hungry. And then they sent a man in to hunt you down. It is not nice but they needed to defend their possessions. Maybe there is no true right and wrong in this situation.”
As the wolf kept walking his rounds beneath the moonlight, James got distracted by the colour of his fur. It was long and probably incredibly soft.
Nonsensically, he reached out and sank his hand into the wolf’s fur. The beast stiffened like it held a breath. His yellow eyes were now trained on him.
“You are soft,” James said in delight. “Are you calmer now? I was right, was I? You did not want to be evil. You are a good boy. A good, fluffy boy.”
He began to pet and scratch the wolf like a dog. Miraculously, it led him. The wolf stood still while James ran his hands through his fur over and over until he reached his head. He reached up and scratched behind his ear.
“Such a good boy, you are. From now on, you will leave the people alone, will you? I know you can do it.”
He smiled at the animal.
He was again sidetracked when sparks began to glint in the moonlight. The wolf’s fur, hair by hair, turned into tiny, blue wisps. They rose higher and higher towards the moon. The wolf in front of him shrank and contorted until instead of it stood a man.
He was of similar age as James with sandy-brown hair and deep scars across his face.
The man was breathing heavily. He stared at his shaking hands, then looked up at the full moon. Finally, his eyes settled on James.
“You- you-“
“I’m James. Hello.”
“Hello? You just- You broke my curse.” He fell to his knees at once. “You broke my curse. I am now forever in your debt. Please accept my humble services.”
James stepped back from him. “Oh, no. Get up, friend. I do not need debts or services. I would like to know your name.”
“Remus,” he said. “I was cursed by a wicked wizard to turn into a wolf every full moon and haunt the woods and the town near-by. I am so sorry. Please, I know I must be hanged for my crimes, I-“
“If you were cursed, and not master of your actions, they cannot hang you, fore they are not your crimes.”
“I doubt that.”
James shrugged. “You will see. Trust me. They will understand.”
Remus looked at him like he was insane. James remembered his father then after he had hurt the vicar.
“Are you… scared about what the people might think?”
“Yes. Of course I am scared. They might kill me.”
“No they will not. I will not let them. I promise.”
Remus still stared at him the same way.
“Well, come now. It is late and I want to go back to bed. I must leave tomorrow.”
The next morning, James woke up in his tavern room to Remus lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” Remus said tightly, not looking at him.
“What are you looking at?”
“The last thing I will see before being chased out of this place.”
James looked up at the ceiling as well. It might have been white once. There were several stains from water leaking from the room above.
“That is sad,” he said. “It should not be the last thing. We shall eat first.” He jumped out of bed. “Come now. No need to be frightened.”
Remus frowned. “Easy for you to say. I’m looking toward my doom.”
“You are looking toward the ceiling,” James reminded him. “Even if they want you to leave town, you can travel with me. I will not let them hurt you, but I promise I make a fine travelling companion.”
Remus hummed. “I am in your debt and will do whatever you wish. Even walk with you as you seek fear after fear.”
“Good! Now get up. I am starving!”
At noon, James took a chair, placed it in the middle of the market and climbed on top of it.
“Hear me!” He called, “Gather ‘round, gather ‘round, fore I have a story to tell!”
Remus stood beside him and the market was quickly filled with people gazing up at James in wonder – was he the man who went to stare down the beast and came back alive? It must be so!
“I will tell you a tale of a ferocious beast!” The crowd gasped. “A wicked mage!” They groaned. “And Kindness.” The crowd looked at each other confused.
“It all began with a man who was caught, through no fault of his own, by the wicked mage on the other side of the forest.”
Remus had not told him the story behind his curse, so he looked up at James in confusion.
“He was a good man, a righteous man! One of you and you. Normal. Ordinary. Good-natured. But this angered the mage, and so he cast a curse upon him. With every full moon our good hero, shall turn into a wild beast to haunt this town and make himself enemy of the people. With every moon, the man lost control over himself, and after every fateful night, he wept, for his heart was broken about all the hurt he had caused.”
James put a hand to his heart and looked down at Remus. He blinked at him, but then quickly cast down his eyes and made his best attempt to look full of regret and shame.
“So, how was the curse broken, you ask? A simple act of kindness. Meeting such a creature, as wicked as it may have been, with kindness and understanding, brought forth the good man inside and banished the beast. Fore you see, kindness can turn the most wicked of hearts, and wildest of temperaments. So, in this spirit, should we – you – not forgive this man, who, through no fault of his own, has hurt you?”
James gave a big smile to the crowd before him. They whispered to each other, shooting them looks and glaring at Remus until finally, the mayor stepped forward.
“We will show kindness, by letting the wolf-man alive today and let him take his leave, if in turn he promises never to show his face here again come morning.”
James clapped his hands and jumped down from the chair. “There you have it. Thank you kind sir. On the day of reckoning, the Lord will remember this good deed.”
He bowed and made Remus bow with him before they quickly escaped back into the tavern.
James himself was celebrated for freeing the town from the wolf and was given free meals and drink unless he tried to share them with Remus, so James insisted on paying for it all.
“Did you believe a single thing of what you just said out there?” Remus asked eventually.
James smirked at him. “Let’s say it like this: I once threw a vicar down a ladder.”
Remus stared at him and then burst into laughter. James chuckled and elbowed him in the side. “Stop, or they’ll hear.”
“That is good to hear,” a voice said behind him. James looked and it was no other than the fair man with the silver eyes, who walked around the table and sat with them. “Your speech about kindness conquering all was hard to listen to.”
“You were there?” James asked surprised. He was sure he would have been able to pick him out of any crowd.
“Yes. Hidden.”
James offered him the food and drink in front of him. “How is your cat? Lady Cassiopeia?”
“She is fine. Well fed, warm and save back at our camp.” He looked at the drink offered to him and instead ordered wine for himself. “So, what made you enough of a lunatic to walk into the forest when you knew of the danger?”
“Simple: I have never been afraid and I thought it might teach me fright.”
The man regarded him. His eyes swayed to Remus then back. “And did it?”
“No.”
He looked at him for a long assessing moment, his grey eyes looked darker in the low-lit tavern, and James thought he must see them again in the sunlight.
He offered his hand over the table. “My name is Regulus.”
James took the hand and introduced himself.
Regulus’s hand was soft, unused to physical labour, and adorned with a statement ring, silver and a green gemstone. As silver as his eyes were.
Remus cleared his throat. “And I’m Remus.”
Regulus pulled his fingers out of James’s hand, leaving it cold. He nodded towards Remus.
“So, James, where do you come from and who are you that you are not afraid of anything? Surely you must be a bandit or a pirate to be so fearless.”
“Me? A pirate? I have never even seen the water. I am a potter. Well, my father is a potter, and my brother is also, so I am, too.”
“A potter?” Regulus asked as if did not make sense.
James pulled the little figurine out of his pack and set it down in front of him. “It’s a cat. I promise my pots and plates are better, but I made the cat for you.”
“For me?” He asked quietly and reached for it with tentative fingers.
“Yes. I thought of you when I made it.”
“Oh.”
“I know it’s not very good-“
“And yet, I shall treasure it.” He turned the cat over in his fingers, carefully, as if it were the most fragile and precious thing he had ever held. He sat it down next to his glass and pointed at the rest of his stock. “Did you make those, too?”
“Yes. I sell them to buy food on my journey.”
“Your journey to learn fear?” Regulus asked and bent down to slip his fingers into the pack and produce a bowl. He inspected the pattern on it. “These are stars.”
“Yes! You recognise them?”
“Of course. It is the Leo constellation. You see this star here; it is my namesake. Regulus.”
“You can see the pictures in the stars, too?”
“I was educated in them, yes.”
“Oh, so there are rules to them? I just look at the stars until I find a picture.”
Regulus smiled and put the bowl down. “It is how the Greeks have done it. How much do you want for this?”
“For the bowl?”
“Yes.”
“If you want it, it’s yours.”
“You must not be a very successful potter if you give away your wares for free.” Regulus smiled, and pulled a gold piece from his pocket, to throw it next to him on the table. “Tell me, my potter, why are you so desperate to learn how to fear, when every other man pretends to be fearless?”
James pondered this. “Well, my father said, that fear is a skill needed for survival.” He said finally. But when Regulus seemed dissatisfied, he leaned closer and said, in a lower voice, only for him. “In truth, not being afraid means, I do not feel the way others do. They think I’m odd… Different. Too different. I just want to go home, be someone my father can be proud of, my brother can love, and people can… recognise as one of their own.”
Regulus opened his mouth to say something, then stopped himself. They looked each other in the eyes. Regulus did not say anything for a long time, but something about his face said that he understood, as there was a glint of sadness in his eyes.
When it was time for James and Remus to leave, Regulus decided to go back to his camp, also.
“I wish you good luck in all your endeavours, my potter,” Regulus said as he kissed his other cheek this time, and they parted ways.