wondrousplace | olden times for Tommy

olden times for Tommy

The great country pile isn't their speed, really.

Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.

Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.

The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.

They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.

"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.

"Ah. I suppose we ought."

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"Yes. I think I want to be here, and be quiet, for a little while."

And he wants to roll onto his side - he grunts in pain when he feels his back rub against the sheets. He's so sore.

"Of course. Here -"

They gently curl their tail over his hip, helping to get him settled on his side, keeping him stable.

"...I've been practicing with the whip," they confess. "I couldn't have touched you if I wasn't sure of my aim."

He presses up close to them, sticky as he is. He's sure they don't mind - they never have, before. The confession draws a raised eyebrow, but he could have guessed. Their aim, after all, was perfect.

"What'd you practice on?"

They don't mind. They barely even notice.

"Cushions, at first. Then pieces of paper hung from the ceiling. And my own shoulders, a few times, although that was a mistake."

Up close, he might see a few small patches of raised skin where they could have accidentally caught themself on the swing.

He raises his hand when he spots them, with just one cracked eye, but he did have to look closely. He runs his fingertips over the mark and smiles.

"Practiced so you could do this to me some night, eh?"

"Oh, given the time investment, I'd like to imagine it'll be more than some night, singular," they tease. "You chose the whip, after all. I had to rise to the challenge."

"I did choose it." He closes his eye again and rests his face against their shoulder. He looks happy about his choice, right now.

"Did you enjoy doing it?"

"Very much," they say, petting his hair. "There's something so...dramatic about it. More distant than using the crop, demanding more skill, having more impact. I'm sorry I made you bleed," they add, "I wasn't aiming for that."

"It didn't feel like I bled too much," he guesses, but he doesn't know. "Did I?"

"Just a couple of spots, where some of the lines crossed," they promise. "I'll put some salve on your back later."

But for now they're holding him close, petting his hair, letting him breathe. Using this point where he's been so thoroughly tenderised to ask:

"...Would you like to talk about it?"

Before, he didn't think they would really have been interested. They say they care about him, and he even believes it a little - but they're not from the same world. They like to fuck. They like to talk. But they wouldn't have cared about these kinds of things.

He believes it now. Maybe he won't believe it in a few days, but right now he feels so open. He hesitates a moment, though, just to say:

"It might not paint your father in a very positive light."

"That's all right," they tell him. "I'd rather you be honest in your...illumination."

There's nothing in their tone or expression to suggest otherwise.

He sighs, unsure if they mean it but sure they want to at least know. He keeps his eyes closed.

"It wasn't just about the fight. I'm sure you were able to figure that out. It's to do with why I'm here. How I got here. And it's to do with what my kin did when the first Fae came into our world."

Generations ago, then, by human reckoning. The Fae have long lives and thus they have long memories, and as the winners? They dictate the histories. Alongside their concern for Tommy, they can't help but be a little curious for a human perspective.

"Tell me," they urge, softly.

"My kin was split. What comes down to my mother's side tried to fight. They had mystics among them, they had ties to the Realm before the barrier was broken. Many died, but they fought bravely. A mark of honor on their non-existent graves."

He sighs and shifts, slinging an arm over their waist.

"My father's side schemed and lied and collaborated their way into surviving. It's their strong suit, still to this day. They were given favors, but they'd never last long - a mark of shame on their non-existent graves." He gives off the impression that he'd spit on the floor if they were talking about this just about anywhere else.

"They made deals, concerning offspring. You can always make more children, after all. And they had terrible reputations among the rest of the community."

Double frowns and kisses Tommy's brow. They don't doubt it would have been their own ancestors, in part, working in that grey space between humans and Realmsfolk. Spying, brokering partnerships, tempting humans into alliance and worse.

"Had?" they wonder, softly. Because from what he'd said earlier, it feels like that reputation might be a problem even now.

"Oh, have. But they moved to Ireland to try and pretend nothing had happened. But my father was a cocky son of a bitch and came back, impregnated my mother, several times over, left in between children, and then would not help when one day your father turned up to cash in a debt. My mother was left humiliated, my siblings shamed for who their father is, and me - the boon. Something to claim. A blood bond that goes back generations."

Well, that's that. He knows that they might not care so much about these dealings, but it matters to him. They might as well know.

"Oh. Oh, Thomas, I'm - that's abominable."

Most Fae have let these contracts be forgotten, if not formally extinguish them. Hard-won legislation protects such 'boons' from being kept as outright slaves; it still happens, regardless, and even 'legal' conditions of a claimed boonsman are punishing.

"Were you bound to him, specifically? Or to the estate?"

The difference is often treated as negligible, but it's important. If it's the former? Thomas would have suffered no consequence had he handed in notice the day their father died. If it's the latter? Then Thomas is tied to this land, and through it to Double themself, until the day he dies. And they, unable to wield Fae magic, have no idea if they could even dissolve such a contract.

He shakes his head. "Your father's familu didn't hold the estate when the bond was made. It was with him and any kinsmen."

And, Fae kin being what it is, that's a convoluted set of people. He's sure he'll never get out of it.

"Being here is keeping my family out of trouble. No Fae will bother them while I'm this generation's boon. That's my comfort."

Double nods, frowning. 'Kin' is a complex and changeable word as it applies to Fae culture. Back when the deal was made, it may have strictly been thought to apply to blood ties. Now? Harder to tell.

But he is right. What Fae avoid, then and now, are petty disputes between households. Bothering a human family who are the subject of someone else's bond pact? Not done. When Tommy dies, the debt is paid and then all bets are off, but...

"...I'm going to find out what I can do about it. You don't have to do anything with what I learn, but. I want to know what's possible."

They can't help but think about their first time, how...assertively they'd gone about their seduction. They'd been under no illusion about the ethics of their behaviour, but the difference between implicitly threatening someone's job and implicitly threatening to force someone to break a Fae bond is....vast.

Would they have done it if they'd known? Probably not.

It also explains the changes in how Tommy presents himself to them. Right now he can trust them to have his best interest in mind, at the very least, and he knows that their interest in him is genuine. Before, what could he be sure of? It was best to keep them at more than an arm's length, and keep everyone he could away. The risks were too high.

"Who knows. You might find something, considering your position."

He doesn't sound very hopeful at all.

It's heartbreaking, honestly. They snuggle closer, kissing the top of his head.

"...i knew that he could be an...unkind man. Even cruel, when the mood took him. But I hadn't imagined he could be so small in his thinking. So petty."

If he'd even known what the Shelby family had gained by their boon, why would he have cared? He'd had no reason to call in that favour beyond spite.

"My father was a very annoying person. Who knows what he did to infuriate him, to cause him to come to our house and punish those with the misfortune of knowing him. Or maybe he just needed a horseman. Or maybe he was in a bad mood, and in need of playing a game."

And humans are so very, very insignificant in the lives of Fae. Who cares about one more human life spent wasted?

Sometimes that really is all it takes. A quick flare of anger, and then a lifetime to extinguish it - but what does it matter, if it isn't your lifetime?

"He was...much more quick to anger than a lot of Fae I've known," they agree softly. "I could manage his moods, mostly, but...it wouldn't have taken much to push him to that kind of edge. I'm sorry."

It's not an apology, of course - they didn't know, and Tommy had good reason not to tell them. And it's not pity either. Just a solemn acknowledgement of the mess he's been forced into.

"You stayed on the good side of them and profited, and I..."

Well. He shrugs. He kisses their shoulder in soft apology.

"Not that I don't enjoy our time together, but it's come at a high price, and years and years of isolation."

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