DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of 100% FICTION and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between 2 consenting teenage boys. This story is based 100% off of my IMAGINATION and does NOT reflect the views of the celebrities mentioned. If this type of content offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this type of material, please don't.

What Happened to the Green Fairies?

By Danimpa

Chapter 19

Earldom of Cornwall, England
October/November 1397

I didn't give in to temptation for the next week. I wanted Brendon to get well too badly and for once in my life my own needs had to become a minor priority.

He did heal up, though, the better food and the dry warmth the castle offered made sure of that.

And I was infuriated with my father.

I'd put off an actual showdown for as long as I could, though, afraid as to how a row between my father and myself might affect Brendon's fate.


When that week had passed and Brendon was more or less alright again, I was torn between two things.

Bed and honesty.

Because, knowing his pride, honesty would definitely rule the first one out.

But I couldn't keep hiding that thing from him, could I?

I couldn't.

Which was why I stopped him in the middle of kissing my neck, both of us shirtless, and asked him to sit up.

"What is it?" he asked, slightly out of breath as he sat up against the headboard next to me.

"Listen, I love you, alright?" I started, biting my lip slowly. "More than anything, ever."

His eyebrows narrowed. "What happened?"

I closed my eyes and let go of a deep breath. "I slept with her," I whispered, feeling about ready to break down again just the way I had when I'd turned back into a small boy craving the comfort of his older brother.

Suddenly he grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me roughly so I was looking at him. "You did what?"

I felt the first tear escape my eye and I gulped, looking into the furious, frightened orbs of his eyes. "I had too much wine, I was asleep, I was dreaming about you and then I woke up and... and it was her," I stuttered out, sobbing by then.

He let go of me and turned away. "Stop with the bloody excuses, noble boy!" he ordered harshly as he got off the bed, gripping for his shirt. "One promise, one simple promise and bloody hell, you can't keep it!"

He was leaving. The realisation shot through me, threatening to make me go out of my mind.

'I give up my freedom, you give up yours. Think you can handle that, noble boy?'

Now he was withdrawing his part of the deal, taking back that freedom he'd loved so much.

And suddenly all I could think about was how I'd never gotten around to giving him the dagger.

"Brendon, I love you," I whispered, giving it one last try.

He looked uncertain for a moment, but then his features grew hard and closed again. "Tell that to someone who believes you, milord," he spat while making sure his doublet was in place.

Then he left.


It was during supper that same day that I finally exploded.

Cornelius had come in in the middle of it all, bending down to whisper something in Father's ear.

I couldn't stand to see that man's face, knowing what he'd done and the distress I had been feeling all day didn't help much either.

Suddenly angry beyond anything I dropped knife and fork and looked sharply at the man who was supposed to be my father. "How could you do that?" I asked, my voice a dangerously low hiss.

He heard, though, looked up and met my eyes from the other side of the table. "Do what, George?"

"You bloody well know what!" I was yelling by that, subconsciously using the peasant swearing that I'd become so used to hearing.

"Watch your mouth, George," Mother spoke up, sending me a sharp look. "I will not have you sound that plain."

"You don't care about what I want, why should I care about what you want?" I returned, still yelling. I was quite sure that fume was coming out of my ears.

"Because you are a disgrace!" Father yelled back, blue eyes on fire. "If his death is what it took to make a man out of you, then that was a small price to pay!"

"Oh, you didn't get rid of him," I told him with a bitter chuckle. "I managed that well enough of my own, all because of that city whore I'm supposed to call my betrothed." I took a deep breath, preparing for the finale. "Sometimes I ask myself which one in this family is the actual disgrace," I added, my voice controlled and completely steady. I sent them a small, mad smile, inwardly questioning my own sanity while I pushed my chair back and left the room in long slides.

Once back in my own chambers I broke down, crying alone. The whole night.


The next weeks went by slowly, the days moulding together until I barely knew the difference between day and night.

I stopped eating altogether, stopped training too, stopped reading. I didn't do anything at all basically; just lay there and waited for it all to be over.

I'd managed to convince everybody, including the most outstanding doctors my father called for, that the matter was a physical one and not just in my mind.

I suppose it did become physical as well.

I'd already been small-framed and after a few weeks of no food and only the water Matt managed to force into me there was practically nothing left of me. My bones were so insufficiently isolated that they hurt against the soft mattress of my bed and I had so little energy that I could barely move.

Despite the constant fires in the fireplaces of all chambers in my quarters, I was constantly cold and shivering and my brother had pretty much put his relationship with Agatha on hold to stay by my side at all times.

He slept in my bed every night, next to me, trying to comfort me, trying to give me back a semblance of warmth but it was all so cold, perpetually cold.

Eleanor spent a lot of time with us as well, sitting in a chair next to my bed while she held my hand, trying the best she could to help Matt talk life into me.

Nothing worked.

I'd given up, I didn't want anything anymore. I never knew I'd been that right when I stated that he was my whole world and that I wouldn't be able to live without him.

Somehow, though, I'm not exactly sure how, Matt managed to convince me to participate in the yearly hunt although I was in no shape to do so.

I think he said something about my parents planning on calling for a priest if I didn't start showing signs of getting better.

I was only getting worse but I didn't want to see a priest, so I forced myself to eat a small lump of bread to get just a bit of energy back on the morning of the hunt. I barely kept it down, but somehow my stomach, which, by then, was completely unused to nutrients, didn't let me down.

Matt dressed me in my usual gear and I couldn't care less if people noticed how loosely my already small clothes hung on my frame.

I got my riding bow, didn't bother to test the string, got the quiver on my shoulder where it bit against the shoulder blades that seemed to be begging to just sprout through my ghastly white skin already.

Eleanor worked wonders with her makeup, camouflaged the black circles beneath my eyes and made my skin look a little less transparent.

Matt led me through the castle and out into the courtyard where the autumn sun attacked my eyes and made my head hurt. Then he guided me in between the various guests, answering their greetings and questions for me until we finally reached my horse. Once there he had to lift me onto it while saying something about it possibly being a better idea to strap my legs onto the beast. He let it go, though, got on his own horse and rode in front of me back to the hunting party.

The instructions as well as the ride to the forest went by in a daze, all automatic while the frail skin of my behind bruised up against the saddle.

I was tired already. I wanted to get back to my bed.



Soles occidere et redire possunt;
Nobis, cum semel occidit brevis lux,
Nox est perpetua una dormienda.

Remembering the poem I'd learnt by heart, I suddenly realised that tears were running down my cheeks, stinging the ruined skin while I fought to stay just behind Matt, not to get away from him in the middle of the forest that I used to know like the back of my hand.

I never bothered reaching for my bow or trying to use it to shoot anything; I knew I wouldn't be able to pull the string taut anyway. I simply used whatever nonexistent energy I had to stay on the horse while Nemesis spread her veil around me.

My hands were slipping on the reins and one of me feet suddenly fell out of the stirrup. After not having used my limbs for so long it seemed I couldn't control them anymore.

With my balance suddenly muddled, my hands slipped completely and without warning I fell off the galloping horse, immediate pain shooting through the side that I landed on while I lost feeling in my arm and for a moment studied the odd angle in which my leg lay.

It took less than a minute for Matt to be back by my side, crouching down next to me while he grabbed the hand I could actually feel. "Ryan... Little brother, please don't do this!"

Why was he crying?

"I knew I should've let you stay in bed," he whispered. "I was supposed to protect you, Ry, please don't do this..."

"Matt?" I whispered, opening my eyes again to look up at him.

It was a heartbreaking sight.

"Please get me home," I whispered before suddenly remembering the dagger that was still in place in my boot.

Somehow, despite cracked ribs and broken bones, I managed to reach down and retrieve it before pushing it into his hands.

"Please find Brendon," I muttered. "Please give him this and tell him that I'm sorry."

Then my vision darkened and I welcomed the unconsciousness gladly.

The sun can set and rise;
for us, when our brief light has set,
there is one eternal night for sleeping.


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