Chapter Text
Stede was getting underfoot in the kitchen, where Mary and Doug were plating up party leftovers for dinner, so he wandered out to the front room.
The house didn’t look all that different, compared to when he’d lived here, except that Mary had hung up more of her art, and most of the photos in frames, dotted about the shelves, featured Doug rather than himself.
Only the big group shots included him. He stopped before one that’d been taken at Alma’s last birthday party, a summer barbecue with all her friends, most of the friends’ parents, Mary and Doug’s entire artsy crowd, Mary’s best friend Evelyn...and Stede, on the fringes. Even from a distance of half a year, he could remember how tight his smile had been.
Divorce had been a relief (never mind his parents’ passing, and the freedoms that had followed), but there was no magic spell that could fix every aspect of your life.
No potion that brought the love of your life striding across towards you. That made you feel important, when everyone else’s gaze slid away, when no one else wanted to bother listening to your stories.
He sighed, and moved on, peeking into the den. “Hey, Louis, do you—”
“Don’t step on the tracks! I just put the train on.”
“That’s fast work, Lou. Wasn’t that one of the sets you got this afternoon?”
“Yup.” Louis looked up from his half-finished Lego model of Rivendell, his gift from Stede and Mary, which he’d gotten on his actual birthday, earlier in the week. “But they don’t have trains in Middle-earth, so I had to build it, to see what size it was, so I could figure out where it should go.” Louis stood up, pointing to each group in turn as he went on, explaining how the train led from the city he’d already constructed, out to where the landscape shifted to Middle-earth, then past the docks to the pirate ship—
“That’s the one we built together.”
“Sure, dad. I like doing them on my own, though.”
“Oh, yeah, ’course. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Okay.” Louis dropped down cross-legged before Rivendell. “Mom’ll call me.”
“Right.” He went on down the hall, and up the stairs, knocked on Alma’s half-open door.
“Dinner?” Alma called.
He peeked round the jamb. “In a few minutes.”
“Oh, hey, Dad. Tell mom I’m almost done, I’ve got to finish coding my part of this game so that the magic— Anyway, I’ll show you later, okay?”
“Sure, I’d love to see it.” Alma didn’t reply, so back down the stairs he went.
“I don’t really fit in here anymore, do I?” he muttered towards the stained glass inset above the front door. He remembered his mother pressuring him to get a B for Bonnet, but for once he’d stood firm—Alma had already been born, and she was the reason for everything, the one who made his days joyful, beyond the hard slog of working in the Bonnet business, of feeling half a man, half a shadow, in his own home, in his marriage. A it was.
And the A also happened to stand for Allamby, Mary’s family name, and for Art, and even for Doug’s surname, Aidecker.
No, Stede did not fit in, not here, and not in his tiny, lonely flat, either.
A stray balloon from Louis’ party floated by, and he caught the string.
Imagine if there was a world where he might speak a spell and float away, held up by a single balloon? Where would he want to go?
Across the ocean, maybe to an island, or possibly to a small village nestled at the foot of a mountain, protected from the worst of the winter winds. He slid off the last step and continued down the corridor, thinking of the possibilities, and the balloon went with him. The late afternoon sunlight came through the stained glass at an angle, picking up the reds and purples, creating a shimmering circle on the floor. Balloon in hand, he stepped into the ring of coloured light.
“Oy, that’s my balloon!”
“Huh?” He blinked in the sudden open air and sunshine all around, and looked about for the source of the voice.
“Let go!”
Something swiped at his ankle.
He looked down—at a mole. Its whiskers twitched, and it bounced on its paws, as if getting ready to leap up and take another swipe at him.
“Here!” He met the unfocused gaze of the beady eyes and shoved the string towards the creature. “You can have it!”
“I should think so, seeing as it’s mine! Well, at least you’re an honest thief. If you ever need something dug up, let me know!”
The mole stuck the string of the balloon in its mouth, dropped to all fours, and lumbered off.
Stede slowly straightened, slowly spun on his heel, slowly looked all around him. He wasn’t sure how he’d arrived here, but he wasn’t overly concerned with transport logistics at the moment.
More importantly, where was here?
Sunshine glinted off the whitewashed walls of the low-slung cottage-type buildings all around the central square in which he found himself. Cobblestones beneath him, a merrily plashing fountain beside him, its waters pouring from the intertwined tails of two mermaids. Iron lamp posts, bunting and streamers and, beside the arched entrance to the nearest building—its wooden sign read simply Soup—a plinth. Atop the plinth sat a grey tuxedo cat, dainty white paws set side by side before it. Its tail twitched, ever so slightly, from side to side. It chirped.
And beneath the chirps, there were words. “Hello and welcome. I am Kedi Venti Pipire of Camulodunum. What are your intentions?”
“Er, well, I didn’t plan to come here—”
“What difference does that make?”
“Oh! In that case...” He looked around again, and this time he heard the birds, trilling their evening songs in woods beyond the village. Laughter, coming from the various open doors and windows. Wooden signs waving creakily on their hinges in a fresh breeze that had sprung up. Soup, and another sign featuring gems and a deck of cards, and, next door, John’s Fabrics, and a tea shop, and more beyond his line of sight. One possibility after another opening up before him—all magical. What did he want to explore first?
He heard the slow tread of booted feet, and a man came into view at the other end of the square.
All in black leather, but with a shirt of deep purple peeking out from beneath his jacket. Long dark hair, with glints of moonshine; the entirety of the mellow evening seemed designed to accentuate his cascade of silver and sable, the rich cast of his skin, the hint of molten gold that sparkled in his brown eyes— Oh. When had he gotten so close?
“An unintended visit, I presume?”
His voice rolled over Stede like the warmest note on a grand piano, the kind that lifted up your heart and brought tears to the corners of your eyes.
And!
As if he wasn’t the most beautiful creature Stede had ever seen, with laugh lines on his face and a delightful curve to his mouth that hinted at fun and whimsy—
Atop his head, he wore a witch’s hat.
Stede sucked in a breath, let it out in a sigh of pure happiness. He tore his gaze from the beautiful man, and met the cat’s steady stare. “I’d like to learn to become a witch, please.”