Takes place February 14th
As it turned out, excavating the passages of long-forgotten shrines was an incredibly exhausting, time consuming effort. Despite his enthusiasm and dedication to the cause, Julian had only managed to completely dig out one path last week--and that was an 'easy' one.
It took him less than two hours to move boulders out of the way and dig out around the path. It wasn't pretty, but it was functional. Cyril discouraged him from spending too much time in any one area, because if he had that much energy, there were other places to spend it.
He could fine-tune the area later; it was enough that they had access to it now.
Unfortunate, though, that the shrine had nothing of note.
Julian knew that, practically speaking, finding the roseberry seeds was unlikely. He hoped, anyway.
He buried the disappointment deep in his heart and used it as inspiration to try again. And again, and again, and again, if that's what it took.
Cyril admired the perseverance, which was quiet, but resolute. He didn't discourage Julian when he asked if there was another one nearby. The closest was a fifteen minute walk, but the entrance had totally caved in. Cyril only knew which tree marked it because of a knothole that bore completely through the tree.
Julian had to dig four preliminary holes around the tree before he found the would-be entrance. The flat stone he was looking for was buried under two feet of dirt.
It was an impressive effort, but in the end the sun went down before he could clear out enough of the space. He had lighting to help him work, but Cyril sent him home. Julian was by no means athletic, nor did his small frame seem to have the strength to pursue such laborious efforts. When Cyril told him to slow down, Julian had seemed surprised, and like he had to stop and think about how tired, how sore, he was.
He didn't protest when Cyril told him to put his things away and rest.
They'd talked all day--or, mostly, Cyril had. Julian put his energy towards working, and listening was easy. Cyril was a never-ending faucet of stories, if you asked the right questions, and Julian had found a very good topic.
Princess Lestwestle and her suitors had more adventures than could fill a single book, and Cyril was quite fond of these stories, as evidenced by how eagerly he told them. He was an impressive storyteller, and not for the first time, Julian thought he should have been in a royal court, or on a big stage, or somewhere surrounded by people who could enjoy him.
Julian did his best to be a worthwhile audience, but Cyril deserved boisterous enthusiasm, and Julian could only wrangle soft encouragement. He tried. They both did.
It was a good day.
Cyril was right, of course. Julian had worked for too hard, and too long. He'd gone home and fallen asleep in the shower, woken up in a panic, and gone to bed without dinner. He slept in until almost noon, and that was before he even realized he'd caught a cold.
The next weekend, he came back refreshed--with two lunches, extra water, and a hand pushed mower. He checked with Cyril--twice--before mowing the tall grass in the clearing. Cyril thought the whole thing was fascinating, and followed Julian around with curious commentary. A few flowers were lost in the process. Julian did his best, but the grass was too tall, and too dense. Cyril hadn't seen them either, and told him not to worry. The flowers always grew back. And, there were plenty of other clearings in the forest full of them.
That drew Julian's attention. He hadn't seen much of the forest in any meaningful way. Since he'd met Cyril, he hadn't explored on his own. He let Cyril tell him where to go, and what to do.
He was the expert, wasn't he? He'd been here for so long already. He had more experience as a Knight.
Julian's wants were secondary, as long as 'be a better Knight' was at the forefront. He wanted to see Dering, wanted to know more about the forest, but he also wanted to make Cyril proud, and wanted him to see how seriously Julian was taking this.
Asking for field trips felt too indulgent. He needed to be working.
...Like he was right now.
Julian stopped to wipe his sleeve across his forehead as he surveyed his progress. He had small mountains of cut grass, which he'd use to make compost, which would help things grow--he'd done his research, and shared with Cyril, who didn't know much about growing anything but trusted what Julian relayed to him.
Only a third of the clearing had been finished, but he was working hard, and he knew if he kept up this pace, he'd be done by lunch. Cyril was giving him a look, like he was thinking about when he should remind Julian to take a break, but Julian saved him the effort and sat down on the ground with his water bottle.
"Do you think we'll be able to go some day?"
Cyril tilted his head and took a seat on the grass next to Julian. "Go where?"
"To see the other clearings. Or, um. Some of the other places you've mentioned."
"Oh. Yes, of course. It's not the whole forest that's sick."
Julian brightened, smiling as he sipped at the water. "Is a lot of it sick?"
"Some," Cyril shrugged. He never really got more specific than that--just sick, or cursed. Julian didn't expect more, but was pleasantly surprised when Cyril continued, "Less than a quarter of it. But that doesn't mean the rest is safe."
"I don't think I'll go anywhere without talking to you first," Julian promised.
"You don't need my permission," Cyril reminded. And yet, he was glad that Julian sought it anyway, because despite how many times Cyril reassured Julian that it was his wonder now...
Cyril still felt like Dering was his. The mantle might have been passed on, but he'd wandered these forests for longer than any knight before him had. He might not be Knight Dering, but it was still his forest.
Even if--
"I know," Julian said gently, "But it still means a lot to me. I like when you're here. I'm not so worried about falling into holes. Are they why it's not safe?"
A part of Cyril wanted to exaggerate the dangers in the forest, to give Julian more of a reason to stay close. It wasn't that he didn't trust him, just--
...
Did he trust him?
He looked at Julian for a moment--too long of one, because Julian swallowed and looked away. Cyril still didn't speak, transfixed briefly on how a few seconds of silence crumbled Julian's resolve.
"Sorry," Cyril said, "I was thinking. It's been a long time."
Julian wasn't quick to meet his eyes again, but he tried. He was hopeful. "That's okay," he said quickly, softly. "We can talk about something else--"
"No," Cyril interrupted, before Julian could further convince himself that he said something wrong. "The holes are partly the reason. There are some traps, and not all of those tunnels lead to something good. When you're not here, I wander. I'd rather I happen upon something unpleasant than you. It can't hurt me."
"Oh, that makes sense. Thank you."
Cyril knew Julian would have said anything to placate him. He played it safe on a good day. Now that he was back to being overcautious, it was even harder to honestly ask something of him--he'd just say yes, anyway.
But, Cyril wanted to trust Julian. And Julian wanted to trust Cyril.
So they had to meet in the middle sometimes, as honestly--or dishonestly--as they could.
"Will you promise me something, Julian?" Cyril asked slowly, watching as Julian's eyes snapped back. Of course he was nodding already. He didn't even know what he was agreeing to and the answer was already yes. Cyril continued, "Please don't go too deeply into the forest without me. Just for right now. There's a lot I want to teach you."
"I won't." Too quick, too eager.
Cyril wished he would protest, sometimes. Or roll his eyes, or sulk.
"There used to be clear paths throughout the forest, guiding people safely through it. But they're overgrown, now. But there are the holes, yes. Loose trees--one just fell last night. Mostly, I was thinking about the poison plants."
Julian shifted, watching curiously but without asking. He was still testing Cyril's interest in the conversation, and silence was the best way not to overstep.
A participant in the conversation would have been helpful, but Cyril could work with a silent audience, too. "I don't know what the poison might do to you. And, while I can probably figure out the recipes to make a few balms, antidotes are another story entirely. There are leaves here that can make you break out in hives. Berries that trap you in a hallucination. Flowers that put you to sleep."
"Really? All that?" Julian asked, frowning slightly. "Is that--are they lethal?"
"Some, if you're unlucky."
Julian struck him as someone generally unacquainted with good luck, so he seemed to take this warning seriously.
"But don't go brushing along plants you don't recognize and you should be fine. And don't eat anything you find without checking with me first. And don't smell flowers unless you've got someone lined up with true-love's kiss."
Concern passed along his feature. Cyril expected it to be the leaves that worried him, as Julian hadn't shown any interest in eating things he found growing in the forest, so it surprised him when Julian asked, "A kiss?"
"Yes, a kiss. The sort that wakes sleeping damsels from their slumber in all the fairy tales."
"Is that a real thing?" Julian's brows had wrinkled together with a surprising amount of worry.
Cyril sucked in a silent, hollow breath between his teeth. "...No, Julian. I was teasing. Those things only happen in fairy tales."
As expected, Julian's cheeks tinted pink. "Oh, sorry," he said quickly.
"No, don't be. I forget that the fairy tales I was told as a child were probably a bit different from yours."
"Maybe." Julian sounded less than confident, back to appeasing, but there was something off about the way he'd said it. A quick, complacent answer, but Cyril learned that tone usually meant there was something more lurking just below the surface.
So, he pried. "What stories did your parents tell you?""
Julian was suddenly very thirsty, and took two long, slow swigs from the water bottle before answering. "Um, well--my parents didn't really...that is, I mean..." His voice trailed off, only for him to suddenly become a bit more animated. "They told me stories," he insisted, half-rolling over and propping himself up on his elbow to look at Cyril. "But I don't really have the best memory of, um, the specifics. I'm sure they read me--well, I mean, I've seen the Disney versions of the stories. Um--Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty. Um. Those?"
None of them sounded familiar. And yet, Julian was oddly distressed considering it was a conversation about fairy tales.
Which meant this wasn't about fairy tales, but that was as far as Cyril could decipher.
"No, I don't recognize those. I don't know the Disney versions. Those are...?"
"Movies. Oh--sorry, I forgot. I'll--I'll talk to Soleiyu, maybe we can--do a movie, or--it's like a play, but um. That you can rewatched, by clicking a button. Sorry, I should have thought that--oh! I can bring an audiobook recording of the fairy tales, maybe? And you can listen to it, if you want? I'll ask Soleiyu."
Always asking Soleiyu. It was a wonder that the Mauvian hadn't figured out Cyril was up here, with as often as Julian mentioned asking him if he could make something. Cyril didn't really understand half of what Julian was saying but he nodded along anyway, because it was good to see Julian animated. Even if Cyril suspected it was just to move the conversation along.
He wasn't quite ready to drop it completely, though.
"I'm interested," Cyril said, "Thank you. I don't know if I have any copies of my fairy tales here. I didn't really bring many books with me. Some of the castles nearby had beautiful libraries, but I don't know if they're accessible anymore. I haven't been able to leave the perimeter of the forest."
He'd tried. Failed. Tried again.
If there was anywhere Cyril could have gone, he would have. Dering was a prison. These days, he was just trying to make the best of it.
Julian made it easier.
Cyril lay on the ground, mimicking Julian's position. "Will you be bothered if I tell you stories?"
"No, never. I like your stories."
And he did, probably. They were close enough that Cyril could see the spark of interest in his eyes. Julian wasn't just saying what he thought Cyril wanted to hear. "Good. I've got a great deal of them, you know. You might get bored."
Julian shook his head. "I could never get bored. Will you tell me while I finish the clearing?"
"Only if you promise you won't be disappointed that I'm not giving you a tour of Dering today."
"I can wait," Julian promised. "I want to finish mowing the grass so I can get the wheelbarrow out here. And then I want to go back to the shrines. I really want to find the roseberry seeds. The faster we find them, the faster we can plant them."
The faster the unicorns will come back, he hoped. He didn't say it, but it hung in the air all the same.
The corner of Cyril's lip twitched. He didn't quite smile, but his face softened. Julian smiled for him.
"All right," Cyril agreed. "Then, as long as you're working, I'll tell you stories. And we can worry about poison plants and antidotes later. I'll start thinking about where to take you, how's that? We'll explore Dering a little at a time."
"I'd like that a lot, Cyril. Thank you." Julian caught his gaze. Held it. Meant it.
Then, jumped to his feet and grabbed the rake. He was collecting the cut grass before Cyril had even decided what story to tell.
But, Julian was working hard. Cyril would have helped, if he could.
Grief, resentment, sorrow.
Cyril pushed them all aside and cleared his throat. "Then, let's start with a happy story."
