The Secret Village

It was hard when the village witch hated you.

Martin tried, he really did, to be likable. And so far, that had been working out for him. The other residents liked him well enough, or at least he hoped so.
But Martin's inability to properly communicate could not be entirely his fault, after all he'd been by himself for a long time before coming to the Village.

Well not entirely by himself, the King of Nothing had watched over him as unnervingly as the sun.

The King of Nothing, or Peter as Martin intimately knew him as, ruled over many of the Fey. However, his court was filled with a heavy mist, a mist that tasted like snow and looked like hazy shards of crystallized rain. Peter's kingdom was made up of blues and grays and the distinct feeling of being lonesome. That feeling had yet to leave Martin, because being alone meant being by one's self, while lonesome meant feeling alone despite being surrounded by people.

The King of Nothing liked being the only person his people had, never letting them meet each other or figure out they were not truly alone. For a while, Martin had assumed he'd came across an abandoned court, and felt an immediate kinship with Peter when he thought the King had been alone too.

But no, Martin realized the King of Nothing has many pieces on his chess board, just spaced out incredibly wide.

It had taken a change of world view to jump off the wooden ship Peter had "given" him and swim through cold waters to shore. Martin walked on numb legs for miles, letting the tangled landscape of the land of Faerie make a path for him.

That was how Martin found this village hidden in the evergreens. It was quaint, filled with cobblestone paths overgrown with grass and wooden buildings with stained glass windows. Everyone carried basket filled with berries or flowers or books. Although there were not many people, Martin felt better at once.

He'd stumbled through the streets one afternoon, causing the townspeople to send him weary looks. Once Martin got his bearings he realized he needed to sleep, and to get food so he didn't starve to death in said sleep. When was the last time he'd eaten? On the ship hunger just decayed, along with every other feeling Martin had. Now, everything Martin has lost came flooding back, his senses coming back to life.

Martin walked into a shop with a swinging wooden sign that read, "Daisy's Weaponry".

At the front of the store was a Fey woman with shorn golden hair. Her pale pointed ears matched her jagged bangs. She sat on the counter, knee propped up, inspecting a dagger. She didn't move, but her eyes snapped to Martin.

"Oh, Hello," Martin stammered, taking in the vast array of axes, bows, arrows, swords, and other killing objects on the walls, and wondered why the fuck he had chosen to walk in here. "I was, um, I was wondering where I could get food? And a room?"

Daisy continued to stare at Martin. Martin's eyes continued to bounce nervously off the walls. Staring at this woman was far more intimidating than looking at the weapons themselves.

Finally she lowered the blade, but did not relax her grip. "Where are you coming in from?" She asked.

"Um, well, I really don't actually know?" Martin laughed awkwardly. She didn't laugh with him, so he persisted, "I was aboard a ship, but I um, left and wandered here mapless. So, um, could you tell me where I could get food-"

"What ship?" Daisy snapped.

Martin opened his mouth when another Fey woman walked in. Her skin was darker, and the points of her ears poked underneath her head scarf. "Stop interrogating him." The woman said.

"Basira-" Daisy started.

"We have a market down the street, but no cafes." The woman- Basira- said. She tilted her head at Martin and asked, "You can cook, can't you?"

"I, yes, yes I can." Martin said, his eyes moving between the two women. "Um, how did you-"

"You couldn't have given me any warning?" Daisy interupted, whirling around to Basira. Basira shrugged, not taking her eyes off of Martin.

"He is not a threat." Basira said, "In fact, I think he will fit right in."

"I-I'm sorry but what is-" Martin tried, but Daisy cut him off, sighing, "She is a seer, looks at the stars and sees the future. And apparently she saw you coming to town, and didn't tell anyone."

She turned to Basira again. "You at least told Jon we had a newcomer, right?"

Martin asked awkwardly, "Who is-"

Suddenly, the door to the shop swung wide open, revealing a slender Fey man with long black hair lined with silver strands. His hazel eyes, moss green and tree bark brown, looked wildly around the room before they landed on Martin.

The man muttered something under his breath and the weapons flew off the walls, stopping inches from Martin's person. Martin stiffened in shock, suddenly becoming very aware of his own body.

"Who are you?" The man asked, his voice dark and lined with magic, "And why are you here?"

"Jon, stop it." Basira said with no real hurry. "I saw him coming."

The man- Jon- whirled on Basira, just as Daisy had, in outrage. Only this time, green sparks flew from his hands. "You saw him coming? And what, decided not to tell me we were going to have an intruder?"

"He's not an intruder, apparently." Daisy said, seemingly bored and leaned against the counter. "Basira said he's going to fit right in here with us."

"Him?" Jon said, looking at Martin with incredulity before looking again at Daisy. As Martin stood as still as an oak tree, he could not help but feel a rush of shame. Martin hasn't had a mirror in a long time and his clothes were wet with salt water and sweat. He knew he did not look any form of attractive. (Not that he cared what the Witch, the utterly handsome and powerful Witch thought.)

"Yes, Jon, him." Basira said, now starting to grow annoyed. "Free him for Merlin's sake."

Jon did not let up. "Surely there must be a mistake-"

Daisy leaned forward instantly. "Are you doubting Basira?"

"Of course not, I'm just saying-"

"I know what you're saying Jon, but listen to me. He is supposed to be a part of our village." A mischievous smile lit Basira's face. "In fact, he is going to open up our first cafe."

And that is how Martin became the proud owner of an abandoned wooden two story cottage. Basira had shown him around the first floor, explaining where they were going to bring in the kitchen supplies such as a stove, plates, pots, and pans, and where he would set tables and chairs. As a small mercy, she said he could do whatever he wanted with the second story, as that would be his home.

Martin trudged up the wooden stairs, clothes dry with mildew and scratchy with sand, and peered at his new place. His place. Martin had never had a place that was truly his. As Martin took in the hallway, the bedroom, the kitchenette, and the quaint living room, he could not believe it was his. The gold key dug into his palm, reminding him that in fact he had escaped Peter.

"I need to sit down." Martin decided, and fell asleep against his new front door.

Martin did his best to fix his appearance. For his business of course, not because of the reaction he'd gotten from a certain witch. A witch, who by the way, had taken an extra five minutes to lay off the weapons. Jon had watched Martin as though Martin had personally offended him, and threatened him under his breath in an archaic language until Basira had led Martin away.

But you know what they say about first impressions, Martin tried to think jovially as he looked at himself in the mirror. His hair had grayed during his time on the ship. Martin ran his hand through it, swallowing. The freckles on his face had faded as well, no longer bright brown but dull.

Martin hadn't been the looker before, and he was certainly not now.

Sliding on a lacy long sleeved shirt, Martin tried to think of other things. What did Basira want him to make? He tied the front strings in thought. He could make cakes, he supposed, or roast lamb.

Martin's thoughts were thrown askew when he heard a crash from downstairs. For a brief, panicked moment Martin thought it was Peter, but rationally he knew Peter preferred quiet entrances, appearing out of his ethereal mist.

It had to be something or someone else. Martin buttoned up his velvet breeches before sliding a dagger out of his discarded coat's pocket (a jacket he would most asurdly have to be rid of, now that it stank of sea weed and salt water).

Martin tip toed down the stairs, cursing every wooden creak. At the bottom of the stairs Martin peered into the room, where early morning peered in from the shop windows. Behind a rickety counter was a mop of black hair, attached the head of a swearing fey man.

"For Merlin's sake-" The man ranted before his eyes fell onto Martin. A charming smile took over his features, and Martin was instantly weary. He knew the kind of tricks good looking faeries did. They were the kind of fair folk that made fun of Martin and jabbed at him. Martin gripped the dagger.

"Oh come on mate there's no need for that." The handsome fey man said, his bright green eyes alight with amusement. Martin was equally baffled by the man and angry he was not taken as a serious threat. The man kept smiling, and gradually Martin's defenses lowered. The man had an alarmingly nice smile.

"You must be Martin," He said, gracefully jumping over the counter and walking to Martin, his hand out. "The name is Tim, Basira might've mentioned me."

Martin reluctantly shook his hand, swallowing. "I am, Martin I mean. I'm Martin. Ugh, why are you here?"

Tim threw a look over his shoulder. "Just installing the stove," He said, wiping his hands that were stained with coal on his trousers. It took a lot out of Martin not to tell him to stop ruining his clothes.

"Oh," Martin said, "Thank you."

Tim eyed him. "You look a little lost, my friend."

Martin stared blankly at the black metal appliance that now belonged in his kitchen. Which belonged to Martin. Martin was definitely a bit more than lost.

"It's a bit much." Martin decided on.

Tim laughed outright, jolting Martin. "Oh boy do I understand. You should have seen me when Basira came round, spouting about my one true love and my family- that girl really has no tact. Oh well, at least she is not as bad a Jon."

"The witch." Martin said before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, Jon." Tim arched a brow. "I heard you met him as well. Don't let it get to you, Jon always makes a bad first impression. You'll like him once you get to know him."

"I don't think that's the problem," Martin stammered. "I don't think he likes me. At all."

Tim rolled his eyes and walked back over to the stove. "That's just Jon's aura. He acts like an ass but he does care. After all, he keeps all of us safe despite calling us useless shrooms."

"Already gossiping about Jon?" Said a cheery voice from the door. A fey woman came in, her light brown hair cascading down her back. She smiled at Martin like they'd been friends forever. "Hello Martin, the name's Sasha."

"Oh, hello," Martin said, still flabbergasted.

Immediately Tim jumped over the counter despite just walking back over there. He put his arm round Sasha, giving her an even brighter smile. One true love, Martin recalled.
After the two of them stared into each other's eyes they turned to Martin, a united front. Martin almost took a step back.

"How are you liking out little village so far?" Sasha asked.

"Oh, it's great." Martin said immediately, "Well I mean I haven't exactly seen it, all of it- I mean I saw a bit yesterday when Basira brought me here but the sun had already set by then- but what I've seen so far has been good-"

Sasha groaned in annoyance. "Basira really has no tact, does she? Neither her or Daisy." She looked at Martin. "Well come along with us today, Martin. We'll give you the grand tour. Let you see if you actually want to be here," She added angrily.

She looped her arm through Martin's, as did Tim without hesitation.

"Oh, really that's okay there is so much work to be done-" Martin complained, but it was no use.

"Nonsense!" Tim and Sasha said, as synchronized as twins. The three of them walked out into the sunlight onto the sidewalk. Martin blinked and looked around as they walked.
"Over there is Daisy's weaponry, which I take you've been to before." Sasha pointed at a place down the way a bit. In the window was Daisy, as she had been yesterday, inspecting a dagger. She sent the three of them a nod but made no move to join them.

"Right there my and Tim's place, we are kind of like town hall? We organize events and keep up with the townspeople." She pointed to a building with a tower and bell. She shot Tim a glare. "The bell rings everyday at Noon, thanks to me. Tim over there has lost his bell privileges forever, thanks to Jon."

"I did nothing wrong!" Tim argued.

"You rang the bell every time someone in town got laid."

"For some people it's worth celebrating!"

Sasha giggled and said to Martin, "If Tim gets five feet to even the bell room he is shot back, as though gravity is rejecting him. It's quite spectacular."

"Jon is so dramatic," Tim grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "He is just angry cause he's the only person in town I never rang the bell for."

Sasha elbowed Tim violently. "Anyway," She said as though Tim hadn't spoken. "Oh! There's Georgie's shop! Come, you have to meet her," She dragged Martin by the hand into a store that read "Georgie's Jinxes and Jewelry"

"Okay-" Martin said as he entered a store filled with black and dark shades of curtains. It was as though day had become night instantly. On the clothed tables were beads of pearls and jewels, as well as books contained drawings of skulls and spells.

"Georgie! Melanie! Come meet Martin!" Sasha called out.

From the back came two women, one who looked excited and one who looked extremely bored.

The excited one reached out to Martin instantly. "Hello! Welcome to town! I'm Georgie, and this is my ladyfriend Melanie."

Melanie rolled her eyes. "Just say girlfriend." She said, sounding fondly irritated. Martin looked at her curiously, her hair was in jagged black locks and her nose and eyebrows were pierced with what seemed to be iron. That was a pretty bold choice for a fey.

She caught Martin staring and scowled, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Martin scrambled. "It's nice- it's nice to meet you." He held out a hand awkwardly. Melanie stared at it for a minute before Georgie intervened, shaking his hand instead.
"Don't mind her, she is not a people person."

Melanie did not look repentant in the slightest.

"This is a lovely shop." Martin said politely.

"It is," Georgie agreed. "Worked hard on it. So I hear you're opening up our first cafe?"

"It-It appears so." Martin said lamely.

Georgie looked to Sasha. "Let me guess, Basira saw a vision of him cooking for us and now won't let him leave?"

"Didn't even give him a tour of the town first." Sasha said, outraged. She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Melanie isn't the only one who needs to work on her people skills."

"There's a lot of people you could add to that list," Tim joked.

"What's the point of being a secret village if we are people people?" Melanie asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm sorry- secret village?" Martin asked.

All eyes turned to him in surprise.

"They didn't tell you, did they?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Clearly not," Martin said annoyed. He'd spent so much time alone, and now here he was, opening a cafe and meeting people and touching them and it was getting a bit much. Especially since Martin did not understand why any of it was happening.

Melanie twirled her finger. "This whole place has wards that are meant to block out travelers. If they come, they walk right on through without realizing they are in a village at all. Yet you, Martin, walked right into Daisy's shop and spoke to her. Quite the odd occurrence."

"Oh," Martin said, his eyes widening. "Is that why Jon was so-"

"Hostile?" Sasha said.

"Suspicious?" Melanie scowled.

"Rude?" Georgie said sympathetically.

"No, no," Tim laughed. "That is just how he regularly is. But your arrival just made it a tad bit worse."

"Oh..." Martin said, not knowing how to deal with any of that. "So, this is a secret village that is meant for people not to see, but I walked into it. And Basira is a seer and saw me opening a cafe in said secret village?"

"Yup," Georgie said, looking strangely excited. "You are quite the odd case."

Martin didn't know how to feel about that either. All that echoed in his mind was Peter, peter, peter. They didn't see him cause he must still have some of Peter's mist wrapped around him. But how can he? Peter isn't near.

Is he?

Tim put his arm around Martin's shoulder. "I think we should give this guy some fresh air."

As they walked outside Martin finally found his voice. "Why is this village a secret?"

For the first time since meeting him, Tim shut off a bit. His smile didn't dim, but his eyes darkened. "Why is anything a secret?"

"To not be found out." Martin supplied.

Tim considered that. "Well, then you have your answer."

Martin looked around the town square. At the secret village made of cobblestone, overgrown terrain, and colored glass. For a moment, Martin felt a strange sense of belonging.
"I think I'll fit right in." Martin said quietly, echoing Basira. Tim peered at him, but did not question it.

The kitchen had been set up during the time Martin, Tim, and Sasha had been out. Martin quickly learned the townspeople helped each other out, taking on menial jobs if someone else couldn't. There were wooden chairs, picnic tables and benches all lined with white lined and baskets filled with fruit. In the store windowsills were pillows and blankets. On the shelf were copper cups, pans, and pots.

Basira stood under them, pointing and saying, "No, that has to go there."

Jon stood next to her, grumbling. He flicked his hand and a ring of small green sparks encircled a cup, lifting it through the air and placing it onto another shelf. Jon did not even have to look at Martin for Martin to know Jon knew he was there. Instantly, Jon's shoulders tensed, but he did not move otherwise.

Basira turned round and nodded to Martin. "You liked the town." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, he did." Sasha said. "No thanks to you showing him around."

Basira did not look apologetic. "I knew he would like town. After all, he will be here for a very long time."

"That's not your decision to make! Just because you see it happen doesn't mean it has to-"

"You and Tim did." Basira did, arching a brow.

Sasha scowled. "We happened because of us, not because of some fate-"

"Sasha," Tim said, placing a hand on her elbow.

Sasha shot Tim a look. Tim shrugged his shoulders. They shared a wordless exchange. Sasha sighed and deflated.

Basira looked at Martin, ignoring them. "We're just finishing up." She told him.

"Oh, that's-that's good." Martin stammered, trying very hard not to stare at Jon. Jon, who stood there in all his dark academic witch glory. Jon eyed Martin out of the corner of his eye, his hands tethered behind his back.

"It is." Basira agreed. "You can start cooking come morning."

"Cooking what exactly?" Martin asked.

Basira shrugged her shoulders. "Bread, muffins, cakes, tea, coffee. And anything else you want to add to the menus."

"Oh," Martin said, thinking of those things. It'd been so long that he forgot what he liked. Even before Martin had never had enough coins to have sweets regularly, as he took care of his mother. When he could muster up the ingredients to make something of the sort he felt truly happy, glad he could make something that smelled and tasted good. There was nothing like it in Peter's court.

Jon cleared his throat. Basira shot him a glare.

"On a trial basis, Basira failed to mention." The witch said. He finally turned to face Martin fully. Martin swallowed nervously.

"Until I- we deem you a non-threat you can cook what you like." Jon said. "If in this trail you prove you are not a fit addition for our village you will be asked to leave, with your memory wiped of course."

"My memory wiped?" Martin echoed.

Jon said, "Couldn't have you coming back now could we?"

"You should feel lucky Martin," Tim said, his arm still round Martin's shoulders. "Usually Jon goes immediately for murder."

"I figured." Martin said quietly, thinking of yesterday.

Jon at least had the decency to look away somewhat abashed. Though, not regretful.

"I will...I will have everything ready tomorrow." Martin told Basira, trying to feel any enthusiasm.

"I know," She said, a twinkle in her eye.