Lost to Arcadia

How do you prepare a trip with no return? (Some may say, you just don’t buy the plane ticket for the way back and to that, you may roll your eyes at them.) How do you prepare yourself for going back to hell itself? How can you make peace with the idea of giving up freedom? 

Well, Tony tried to make peace with it when he realized none of his weapons was going to break his friend free. His work was too fueled with dark emotions and corrupted wyrd that the Court went and destroyed them and so Tony had to find some other way to go back to Arcadia. The changeling had shared with the king his intentions of going back to Arcadia, back then, and… And Fury didn’t refuse straight away: he had silently stared, his unique charcoal eye unblinking before telling that there were gateways to Arcadia within the Court. Though, they would never open it or let anyone use it. It would be too risky and Fury even said he wasn’t too keen on playing into the man’s death wish. That was it. Not a complete no, just weariness and the power of dangling Tony's wish in exchange for something else. One last way to use him before letting him go completely. Hadn’t it been for the werewolves deal, Tony would still be stuck at square one. And now, the time for a round of goodbyes had come. Many would call the Wizened mad but he wasn’t a fool: the chances of him coming back were practically non-existent. Fury won’t let the gateway open forever after he used it. The King will think of the safety of his court first and if that means locking up one member in Arcadia, so be it. It was only because Carbonnel had this obsession of going back to find James that the Darkling knew how to dangle down the possibility to get what he wanted. And he had it: the negotiations with the werewolves were going to be such a delight now that their leader had received his paw-gift. (Pawsthetic, he really liked that joke but even Thor didn’t laugh when the mechanic told it (mainly because he didn’t understand the joke))

So. Good-byes. Huh. The changeling turned his head to the claw DUM-E who whirred in his direction questioningly. The man could count on his fingers the number of people who probably deserved one last visit from him. First Jarvis, obviously, he’ll have to try to find a lame excuse about having to move for work, one last afternoon before leaving, giving a fake promise of calling or sending postcards. Tears welled up in Tony’s eyes and he let out a watery chuckle as his hand stroked the metal hand who biped in distress.

‘It’s allright boy. I’m just tired, that’s it.” he whispered as he petted the robot. Gosh, the thought of leaving his last family hurt so much. But will Edwin really miss him? Anthony was already dead after all. 

Maybe then, he’ll just have one last drink with Thor. As a thanks for trying to help him fit into the Court and staying kind towards him when he left. How about Bruce? he had been so interesting and managed to keep up with Tony’s tech rambling. Such a shame he met him when Tony was already one foot in the grave. 

Among those thoughts, the memory of startling blue eyes showed up, which made the mechanic pause in his movements. Should he visit the Fairest? Steve would appreciate it, probably. He did seem to enjoy having him drink alongside him that time in Valhöl and the Wizened wasn’t going to say that it had been a hardship. The changeling didn’t want to admit it but he wouldn’t deny that he felt his heart skip a beat at the soft smile the Fairest had offered that night. Or even the simple fact he had held him and put him to bed when Tony was determined to drown himself in liquor. 

What a shame some people might say. What a shame to meet new people, to find them interesting, attractive just to throw it all away in the end. Nevertheless, Carbonnel would not be able to look himself in the mirror if he choose his happiness over James's freedom. 

James… He will need a nickname when he’ll be home, thought Tony. James Rhodes… Jamie? Rhodes… Rhodey? 

“Rhodey.” the word slipped through his lips and Anthony Stark smiled. “I’m coming, Rhodey.”

Tony finished his bag a few minutes after. He had tools, his gauntlet if he found himself in trouble, water and canned food that’ll last a couple of days. After suiting up, he looked at his reflection and felt his resolve strengthen. His workshop seemed to lighten up and hum back at his mind, the wyrd rising up in response to his emotions. 

“You’ll all be good while I’m gone okay?” he asked with a sad smile. A metal arm pressed against his side, silently, and Tony rested his head against DUM-E in return. Creation and creator basking in each other while they could. The changeling raised his hand and ran it alongside the metal, the wires before bringing his hand back to his heart. He felt the pulse of wyrd under it, spreading warmth in his body within the rhythm of a heartbeat. 

How do you come to terms with your, highly probable, death?

Away from the workshop, another person's life was changing drastically.

Steve Rogers knew it was a matter of time before he had to take his vows. It sounded like he was being married off to someone and it was as strange as it sounded. Changelings had to vow fidelity to their Court, promise that their one and true family is their Court and always think for the best of all changelings first, in a way individuality didn’t have much room here. He found it tyrannic that way and didn’t hesitate to say it to Fury who just raised an eyebrow in return. “Of course it is. We have gained more strength and power and then lost humanity because of Them. Laws can’t truly apply to us. If the Court can’t be an iron hand for the most reckless of us then we’re bound to disaster.” Steve had refused the offer then, unwilling to bend the knee for those Kings and Queens he had never seen or heard of before. It was only the promise of a gift, of Bucky’s new arm that dragged the Fairest into accepting their conditions. 

So there he stood. Ten years after Arcadia, he was now facing the biggest change in his life. 

Four changelings stood before him in the Garden of the Court. The very same garden, made of wyrd and dreams, he slept in before Tony woke him up. It was still simpler back then, maybe because he had selfishly hoped the mechanic was going to fail: had he failed, he wouldn’t have to bow to the Court. And yet, he was there. Two darklings and two elementals stared back at him, they had nothing royal in their blood but, with every ship, there is a need for leadership and so they had claimed and stood for that role.

The Fairest started to kneel when the King of Winter, Pierce he called himself; stopped him with one raised hand.

Steve looked back at him with confusion before loud whispers seemed to rise in the room. First, unintelligible, then louder, growing in intensity and numbers. Pierce's lips didn't move, but it wasn't hard to understand those sentences were coming from him: they all had the same voice, just crashing down altogether on Steve in different tones and volumes. Pesking him and harassing him, repeating in his ears:

"So ill-mannered. 

All dressed up in glamour. 

Take it off, take it off. 

Taking vows yet hides his face? 

Take it off, take it off.

You shouldn't hide from us. 

Don’t you want to be one of us?"

The other Kings seemed to hear those words too, frowning or turning to whisper admonishment to their ‘friend’ but the Winter King didn’t move his gaze from the Fairest. Waiting expectantly. 

Steve felt his features harden. He didn’t want to but he needed to be part of their world. That’s a lie. You want to be understood, in a way your Pack never could. But not like this. But you don’t have a choice. But-  He held the King’s gaze for a few seconds before reaching for his ring. No one stopped him, curiosity winning over the “Royals” even if they disagreed in the manner. After all, this ring wasn’t a gift from the Court, nor did Steve create it. 

It was a gift from beyond the human world.

Taking off the ring, the wyrd in it pulsed and retrieved the protection he had while wearing it. As the glamour slid off the changeling’s body, it slowly revealed the work of art his Fae left behind. The skin bending and shapes digging into the flesh made out of hard stone. For many, it was only one night. For Steve, it had been a century. It took everything in himself not to raise his hand and follow the lines and cut that had appeared on his skin. He knew it would be foolish: he deals with these marks every day and feels them even when they are hidden but the mere fact that he was now exposed made them even harder to bear. 

Pierce’s eyes raked over the now “unveiled” body and, even though his lips didn’t move,  Fury’s head turned in his colleague’s direction; his expression going from concern to neutral in a split of a second. Danvers spoke up at the sight:

“You may put the ring back.” Steve’s eyes snapped to her face, hope spread on his features. “We see and we understand. You don’t have to be laid bare just for some people's satisfaction,” she said glaring at the other King who hold her gaze but didn’t push. It wasn’t the time for debate anyway. 

The Kings and the Queen turned back their attention to the future member of their Court. Steve felt their gaze’s weight on them and, for a split second, he thought about backing out. Leaving and damn be the consequences, because after this he won’t be able to. This single moment where he could go back to his routine, back to the pack and Bucky. Don’t trust the court. Tony’s voice was whispering to him. Don’t. 

He put a knee on the ground and bowed his head. 

“I have come to be part of the Court. I offer my existence and peace into your care. 

Fury took a step forward and spoke:

“Steven Grant Rogers,” the sound of his true name had a sudden weight onto the changeling's shoulders who couldn’t stop himself from swallowing nervously. “You stand in front of our Court as one of our own. Do you pledge your loyalty to the Court, its rules and its people?

“I do. May my hand and heart provide them with all that is asked of me.

“Do you swear to honour and serve the King of Spring, Thor Odinson?”

The King of Spring, of new days to come and of warmth and comfort for their people. Thor stand up for that role with a smile and made sure that Valhöl was just that: warm and welcoming for the changelings. It is easily forgotten that he had a part in the Court’s decisions since he spent most of his time tending to their people with cooking and beer. Maybe that is what makes him a good king: he cares and their kind trusted him the most of all four Kings. 

“I do.”

Thor rose from his seat and raised the hammer that he had in hand. A short thing but with a large head with engraved runes in it. As it rose, electricity cracked around him.

“Then may the sun shine upon you after every winter.”

Fury nodded and continued, letting Carol Danvers step forward, her skin gaining a soft golden glow. 

“Do you swear to honour and serve the Queen of summer, Captain Marvel? 

The Queen of Summer, the embodiment of the will to fight back, of the need to protect their kind against anyone who threatens them. Captain Marvel, known as Carol when she isn’t all geared up, was a sun elemental. She radiated heat and light and was the chief of the Court armies. Unlike Fury or Thor, she wore a glamour to hide her Changeling nature even from the other members of the Court. As a sun-being, her power could affect her allies, so she only unveils her full glamour when in combat or to intimidate some over-stepping changeling. As for now, only her eyes betrayed her true nature with an unnatural white glow that would seep through her eyelashes. 

“I do.

“Then may the fire burn and help you rise again as one of ours.” The queen said before taking the lead. “Do you swear to honour and serve the King of Fall, Nick Fury?”

Steve let himself glance back up. Fury’s body nearly completely turned to shadows as the presence of wyrd was rising in the room. The King of fall. His influence balanced between watching over the changelings and listening for hours. Listening to Thor’s worry about some of them, listening to the Queen of Summer’s needs and plans for their future and finding solutions that suited everyone. It was probably not the most glamorous work, and Fury often ended up as the face of the Court even though it clashed horribly with his Darkling nature. He’d rather watch from the shadows, but since, as King, he couldn’t play into this he asked other darklings under his command to bring back intel to him. He was everywhere at once which made him dangerous and powerful. At least in the fairest’s mind: after all, it was Fury who found him and pulled him into this council of changelings.

“I do.” he said in a breath, still gazing at the shadow where Fury’s unique eye stared him down before giving him a slight nod.

“Then never forget or forgive. You can find power in your past.” the grave voice of the Darkling answered back. 

Alexander, then, stepped forward. The King of Winter, always silent, apart from the whispers that seemed to turn around him, like a cloud of words. He was also a Darkling, like Fury, more the type to work from the shadows. But no one really understood the role of the King of Winter. When Steve had asked Fury, the darkling had responded “he takes care of what needs to be hidden.” Which could mean anything. The changelings maybe? Because they hid from the real world? Hid them from Arcadia or hide anything related to Arcadia so that twisted minds don’t use them? But that’s the only answer Steve had and he’ll have to settle with it for now. 

“Do you swear to honour and serve the King of Winter?

“I do.” Pierce smiled, like the cat who got the cream at that. It wasn’t kind or warm, it sent a shiver of dread down the Fairest’s spine and the man didn’t comment like the other Kings about his oath. It felt eerie to have him silent, the whispers not even coming back to give closure to his part of the ceremony,  yet no one commented or reacted to it. as if this was normal. Oh how normality was something the fairest yearned for right now. Anything that would make him feel like he took the right decision. In a way, he did, he tried to convince himself. Bucky had an arm again. His friend was going to have it easier with the Pack. Steve could breathe easier that his friend was better armed (ha-ha) against the difficulty of running a pack of wild wolves. And even with that in mind, he could shake this nagging feeling of worry.

You shouldn’t have trusted them. 

He was alone. Without his brother. Without the pack, a world he at least knew. He was trusted into the Court, this world that should be familiar for a changeling but was anything but that to him, and he couldn't back out now.

“Rise, Steve. For you are part of the Court and the Court a part of you.” Fury announced, “You are now the Court’s Knight, may you be the shield we rely on in hard times.”

After all, what’s worse than the devil you know?

The one you don’t.