Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Till the matters of the evening had transpired, Misa had been enjoying a perfectly tranquil and lazy weekend curled up on her sofa in the mellow afternoon sunshine. She watched the neighbours wearily drag their hyperactive litter out of the car, and the lights in the house across the street come alive as the late evening fog settled over their little street.

The main street was just five minutes away, and she could feel the distant thrum of activity pick up as the sun disappeared from the horizon. A gaggle of young witches sauntered down the street and made their way to the chandlery downstairs. She watched as they exited the store some time later, dainty parcels held close. As she caught sight of the telltale pink bow on a few, she chuckled with amusement and wished luck for its unsuspecting recipients.

She idly wondered if one of the kittens would be visiting her soon. In that case, she’d have to check if she had treats ready for them.

The lights blinked on in the various houses and stores cramped together in their narrow street, lighting the road in bright, multicoloured lights. Misa caught sight of two pixies flying past her window as she watered her plants, chattering animatedly as they headed for a party (judging by their appearance), trailing sparkling faerie dust in their wake. She gazed after them, admiring their gorgeous silver hair slicked up stylishly and their iridiscent wings flashing brightly in the night.

Misa walked around her loft tidying the floor that was littered with pillows and fallen leaves, while her favourite show ran in the background.

The wind stirred, slipping through the open window. It washed her senses with the earthy scent of green things growing quietly and the storm that was brewing steadily on the horizon.

She walked upto the window, her breath slow and deep in the soothing hush. A little vine swayed forward and tickled her cheek. She laughed and caressed it softly, before turning back to look at the sky.

“A storm, huh?” she murmured.

The night unravelled grey clouds against star-studded inky blue darkness.

Around eleven, when she was curled up on the sofa reading after a warm bowl of ramen takeout, the sky broke with thunder, and rain poured down with a sudden roar.

She sat up, startled. Raindrops spattered with a vengeance against the long windows next to her.

She dropped her book and hurried to shut the windows around the loft.

As she locked the last window in the kitchenette, she noticed the trash that she had forgotten to throw out leaning against the counter.

She groaned and thumped her head against the cabinet. The little thyme plant on the windowsill stirred anxiously, and she patted it with a sigh.

“Stupid dumbass,” she muttered at herself.

If the trash was left till morning, she was sure the stink would be too much for her by the morning.

Misa picked up the bag, and snatched her umbrella on the way as she dragged herself out of the door unhappily. I had all afternoon to do it! Why did I have to wait till it started pouring like crazy??

The dingy elevator chirped and opened its doors.

Her nose scrunched at the overpowering mixture of sharp scents that hit her when she stepped in. Ambrosia, the owner of the Ambrosia chandlery downstairs was a sweetheart, but one could sense her a mile away because of the suffocating cloud of scents that followed her wherever she went.

The lift moved at a turtle’s pace, humming merrily. The smell of overripe bananas from the bag mixing with the perfume was starting to give her a headache.

The growl of thunder shook the flimsy box and Misa clutched the bag tightly.

Nuh-uh. That is not a cool way to die.

Finally, the elevator thumped to a stop with a sad ding. If she didn’t know better, Misa would say Ambrosia had charmed the darned thing.

She stepped out onto the porch, being careful not to slip on the wet tiles as she wrestled the umbrella open. Next to her, the store was dark save for the bright lettering near the wall spelling “A-M-B-R-O-S-I-A”. Tall shapes of candles and the glinting metal of soapboxes and incense tins stood sentry by the display window.

The tightness in her shoulders disappeared at the soothing drum of the rain on the umbrella drowned everything out. She shuffled around puddles and made her way behind the building towards a small alleyway.

From there, she could see that the lights on the first and second floors were dark. The older couple who lived on the first floor usually turned in early, which just left Ambrosia who lived on the floor right below her loft. The witch was probably out since it was a weekend night.

Misa winced at the nagging inner voice that reminded her that she should probably get a life.

But I am happy the way I am right now. The nagging voice sneered.

Tuning out toxic inner voices, Misa heaved the bag into the trashbin at the end of the alleyway. After making sure the lid was shut, she uneasily looked around the dark walls. Her heart was pounding out of nowhere.

Weird.

She huffed at herself. Don’t be a baby, Misa.

Nevertheless, she started to hurry out of the barely lit alley.

Just as her feet left the mouth of the alley and stepped into the warm glow of the streetlight, the sky split with blinding light. For a few moments, her vision was awash with white as a furious purple-blue danced around the corner of her eyelids. The ground trembled and the umbrella dropped from her weak grasp.

There was a muffled thud somewhere to her right.

When her vision cleared, she found herself standing in the same spot, her fingers trembling from the cold and shock, and her heart hammering in her throat. Gathering herself with a shaken exhale, she looked around for her umbrella, feeling more than a little freaked out. The storm must have blown it away while whatever that craziness was just now was happening.

She turned around and froze.

There was a body sprawled on the ground near her.

No, no, no, no.

In hindsight, maybe running towards a man who had appeared out of nowhere behind you in a dark alleyway was just ridiculously stupid.

She collapsed on her knees next to him on the wet gravel. Guessing he was probably injured from the awkward way his limbs were twisted, she gingerly turned him around, letting his head fall gently to her lap.

Dark blonde hair stuck to his face. The side of his face was covered in blood, from a nasty gash above his left temple. She scanned his torso and found his pale grey dress shirt ripped down the side and drenched in red.

Please, please, please don’t die on me. I don’t wanna go to jail framed for murder, she wailed inwardly.

“Hey,” she tapped his cheek. His skin was cold. “Wake up, I am gunna call for help, ok?”

She slightly lifted up from the ground to pull her phone out of her back pocket.

The man groaned, his leg jerking as his face scrunched tightly.

His eyes shot open. A hypnotic gaze caught hers, deep like midnight with swirls of electric blue, against her own dark brown ones. The rain washed over both of them, dripping down the angles of her face onto his as she stared frozen. Something inside her twisted, and she exhaled, willing the strange pain to subside.

“Hey,” he smiled.

He freaking smiled.

Maybe I should tell him he is dying?

A very underhanded move too, she decided, since even bleeding to death, he looked unreasonably gorgeous.

“Hey,” Misa replied awkwardly, trying to push thoughts of his pretty face out of her mind.

The man was dying for goodness sake!

She dragged her gaze to the phone clasped in her hand, so she could call for help.

A hand caught hers tightly. She looked down at him warily.

“Don’t call anyone,” he murmured searching her eyes. Before she could protest, his eyes closed and his body went limp.

How very obliging.

“Hey, hey—no!” Wasn’t there something about not letting people with head injuries sleep?

Based on his sharp gaze and torn shirt, Misa guessed he was probably on the run from something.

Is that why he told me not to call anyone?

The rain poured down harder with each second as she tried to get her thoughts in order.

If I can’t call anyone, then what am I supposed to do? Leave him here?!

She sighed and looked at the idiot (anyone who fought in a dress shirt was an idiot) who had dropped down out of nowhere.

He can’t possibly know who I am right? She anxiously gazed around the street.

In the last three years since she had moved into her loft, she had been careful to make sure that nobody except Ambrosia even knew her name. Bringing him into her home would definitely spell trouble.

She pressed her lips and looked down at him.

Most wood spirits were infamously generous, but being what she was, her nature rebelled against her leaving the bleeding stranger to his fate. Who was probably—no, definitely—dangerous, if that one second of eye-contact was anything to go by.

A sly voice inside irreverently pointed out that it’d be a shame to leave such a gorgeous face to die in the rain.

The hand gripping hers was cold. Too cold.

The ache tugged at her heart again.

Fine. Fine! I can figure this out.

She gritted her teeth and dragged his arm around her shoulder, before lugging him up.

Get a life. Right.

Chapter Text

Misa would never in her life understand how she lugged his heavy, sopping body all the way to the elevator. She collapsed on the floor next to him as the box began it's torturous ascent upstairs, serenading them with jazz.

She glanced at the handsome stranger passed out at her side. She had half-dragged, half-carried him inside. She was anxious that all the had jostling injured him more than he already was.

Misa was thankful for her powers, which made her way stronger than the average shifter— but even so, the stranger weighed like he was made of freaking stone.

The elevator coughed them out with a melancholic chorus (which she rolled her eyes at) infront of her loft’s entrance. Her body trembled from the strain of lifting him up from the floor again as she wrestled her door open.

She looked up at the enchanted lamp that hung over the couch. It had dimmed to a dark golden as the evening had progressed. She flicked her index finger and the cystals brightened, lighting up the area softly.

Misa lugged his stupidly long frame onto the couch. He sprawled out on the fluffy material elegantly, as if he wasn’t bleeding on her precious couch.

I saved up so much for that, she sighed wistfully, plopping down next him.

For a moment she hovered stiffly above him, before giving herself a shake and carefully opening the buttons of his shirt to inspect the damage. There was a long gash across his right chest, but strangely, it didn’t look very deep despite all the blood. She found another smaller, deeper cut below his ribs on the same side and hissed through her teeth at the sight of dark purple bruises.

Oh shit, I hope nothing’s broken.

She ran her fingers lightly down the bloody skin, trying to find any weird lumps or swelling.

She paused. Maybe I could…

“Well, maybe—just to be sure…” She hesitated again. The hydrangeas spilling down the side of the wall waved enthusiastically in support. She smiled wryly

placing her palm flat against the uninjured side of his chest.

I am not sure this will work since he is not a nature spirit, she debated inwardly.

This specific set of her powers had the strongest affinity to nature spirits, but there was a tiny chance that it had affinity towards a few…shifters.

Well, in theory, she supposed. She had only ever seen her dad do it on a few occassions.

And I don't even know for sure what he is.

Misa blew out a breath and closed her eyes, focusing on the steady beat of life beneath her palm.

There, she honed in on the lingering whispers of his magic. She eased a tiny stream of her magic against his own, and prayed that it’d work.

Misa tensed as his magic lit up curiously. A shiver went down her spine as it sharpened, become more potent as it washed over hers inquisitively.

Velvet-cloaked midnight, the glint of fangs and the edge of ozone.

It prowled quietly around her before slowly nuzzling close. Misa gasped lightly in surprise at the strange feeling.

I guess I am welcome? She thought, before delving into his magic.

She was surprised by the quiet buzz of activity as his magic worked rapidly on healing his injuries, which explained why the gash on his chest wasn’t so deep. But the one below his rib seemed slower to heal and the bleeding still hadn’t stopped.

Oh, there is another one…I think that’s a stab wound on his thigh. She thought back to how his leg had jerked painfully earlier, and frowned.

“What in the stars were you doing to get like this?” Misa felt like she’d have shaken him, if it wasn’t for his injuries.

The wound on his thigh was strange. There was something foreign there, fighting off his magic. It was a vile thing, digging the wound deeper into his flesh, worsening it faster than his magic could heal it.

She winced as her magic mirrored the pain radiating from that spot to her. She lifted her hand off his chest and peered down at him.

It’ll be a while before his magic can get rid of it. Will he be able to hold out until then?, she wondered.

Misa looked down unsurely at him.

The crystal lights played on his face, and there was something familiar about the mischeveous curve of his lips even while unconscious.

Shifters were especially sensitive to the potions from usual breweries, so she could not risk giving him a standard rejuvenating potion. Plus, it’d do nothing to detoxify the leg wound. Normally, fae and elven clinics were the only places that could cure such complex magical wounds. He was definitely some kind of shifter based on the flavour of his magic, so she couldn’t call Ambrosia either, since wizards and shifter famously didn’t mesh well.

Guess that only leaves this option.

She had been really hoping it wouldn’t come to this.

If this doesn’t work, I don’t care, I am calling for help.

Jaw set, she gingerly eased him closer, letting his head rest against her collar, as she tried to prop him up without hurting him. She eased a pillow behind his back before placing her hand back over his chest.

Here goes nothing, I guess.

Misa closed her eyes and reached to untwine a strand of magic from the glowing network entwined within. She delicately led it through her magical channels, careful not to draw more than necessary.

A warm golden-green strand of magic spread down her fingertips before slipping into his skin. The point where it entered shone briefly, tracing patterns of curling vines and runes. It gently wrapped around the life force of his magic, flooding it with power.

Her senses came alive with signals from his magic, and she followed it down his body to the strange wound on his leg. When her magic came into touch with the foreign magic, Misa tried not to gag as a cloying minty taste danced on her tongue. In her mind, she could visualise the faint threads of life that flickered within the toxic magic. Her magic latched onto it, eagerly absorbing its life force into itself. It tickled her senses, before melding seemlessly into her own essence.

The foreign magic dissipated, the last of it torn apart by his magic that gleefully attacked it once it sensed it weakening.

Once it was cleared, Misa nudged his magic gently, communicating that it should rest as her magic worked on the healing for sometime. Earlier when she had checked on his healing, she could sense how worn his magic was from whatever had happened before.

It paused, then slowly withdrew and rubbed against her softly, making her smile, before settling comfortingly over her senses as her magic got to work.

Time seemed to crawl slowly, it felt like hours had passed, but it had only been half an hour. There was something about his magic that made her feel like curling up drowsily and sinking into its star-studded darkness.

She frowned at the thought as she mentally extricated herself after making sure that most of the serious injuries were healing well. She opened her eyes, and checked his injuries. He was no longer bleeding, and his wounds were already starting to close up.

She gently nudged his magic as she withdrew hers, and it got to work healing the remaining damage. She watched it for a few moments in silence.

Misa stilled as a thought crossed her mind.

Among shifters, magical self-healing was a trait that was limited to the upper echelon of shifters. Sure, most were-beings healed a little faster than normal, but the more magically powerful shifters like griffons and dragons could heal completely in a matter of days.

Misa stared down uneasily at him.

From the rate his magic was progressing, he would be completely healed by noon, even quicker now, with the help of her magic.

Was this why he was so unconcerned earlier?

Misa felt like screaming*.* A shifter this powerful meant the worst kind of trouble for her.

Being found out.

Why, oh why did I have to turn into such a worrywart earlier? I should have just left him there!

But even thinking that, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to just abandon him out in the rain.

She looked down and almost jumped out of her skin as a cool blue glow radiated through the back of his shirt.

What in the stars…

She frowned and tried to carefully ease his shirt down the arm on his uninjured side. Realising she couldn’t pull it off with one hand, she removed her palm from his chest, losing her connection to his life force.

Strangely, his magic still lingered, curling around her magic affectionately.

Well, that’s new. Her connection to others usually required touch, but maybe this was a shifter magic quirk.

Ignoring the strange behaviour, she pulled his shirt down his left side.

The light came from a mark that spread across his back—an unmistakable shape of wings that emerged from between his shoulder blades, its tips brushing past his shoulder caps and spilling down his upper arms, and its base ending in the lower middle of his back.

Her fingers hovered without thinking over the intricate design of feathers and sinew. She swore she almost saw it stir, as the light faded to a silvery outline on his skin.

A nagging suspicion tugged at the back of her mind, as she let his weight fall back against her.

Misa looked down at his face, illuminated by the crystals and the faint light of the moon spilling through the window. The golden strands framing his face glinted softly, a little wavy after being soaked in the rain.

The strange emotion was back again, squeezing her heart and making it hard to breathe.

She was struck by the lingering sense of familiarity that had been bothering her ever since she first found him. She regarded his angular features, and the definitely not adorable slant of his mouth. He had a dusting of freckles below his eyes.

Unbidden, his deep blue gaze came back to her mind.

She remembered a picture she had seen a while ago as she was scrolling through her feed. The same eyes had captured her back then too. She might have even looked him up to see more of his pictures.

Heart thundering, she pulled out her phone and typed: Yelar House members

The screen loaded, pulling up pictures of the most powerful family in the city. But one face had all her attention.

She limply set down the phone. The screen was lit up by a teasing smile playing on an annoyingly gorgeous face that was currently resting without a care against her neck.

Misa sat up and tried to slide him down onto the couch.

His brows furrowed, and with a soft groan he turned his face into her neck, one arm coming to loosely wrap around her waist.

Focusing all her thoughts on anything except the way his breath fanned across her skin and the warmth creeping up her cheeks, she heaved her eyes to the ceiling. Her climbing hydrangea’s blooms quivered excitedly from their place on the wall.

Around the loft, most of the plants were half-asleep, but some of the more nocturnal ones like the Queen of the Night blooming radiantly over her desk and the night-blooming jasmines that spilled down the loft stairs were wide-awake and curious. Misa smiled wryly as she caught sight of some of her shy moonflowers that bloomed outside the window peaking in.

What a nosy bunch, all of them, she thought affectionately even as her heart stuttered.

Her eyes dropped down to her phone. A name was displayed under the image.

Faidre Yelar.

The Crown Prince of the Yelar Royal House, and terror to society extraordinaire.

Chapter Text

Misa bustled about the kitchenette, opening a little drawer tucked under the counter. It was stocked to the brim with tiny silk pouches, labels sticking out.

“Felschic, Ubyo, hmm…where is—ah! Sagiri!” She grabbed a bright green pouch with the same label and hurried over to her workstation. She placed a curious stone bowl, runes etched around its wide brim, in front of herself.

After the realisation that the intruder who had crashed her lovely Saturday night was a nuisance of Powerful and Royal proportions, Misa had rightfully fallen into a horrified stupor—only to be shaken out of it when the nuisance sighed in his sleep (almost making her jump out of her skin).

She listlessly scooped soil out of an empty planter into the bowl. Pulling the drawstring open, she withdrew a glossy brown seed. Its oblong body was covered by web-like yellow patterns.

Misa sank her fingers into the soil. It was cool and dew soaked from the night. The smell of earth made her close her eyes, every particle of her body sparking with rightness. She gently moved the soil, making space to drop the seed inside before covering it up.

The echo of life buried inside pulsed in rhythm with her own heartbeat.

Wake up, little one.

The runes lit up one by one, golden shadows dancing on her arms.

The seed quivered against the warmth of her magic enveloping it. A few moments later, a light green sprout poked out of the soil. It kept growing larger as her magic flowed through it; fleshy little leaves emerged from branches along the stem, and a few droopy yellow flowers bloomed at the tips.

She pulled her hands out—careful not to disturb its roots—once the plant reached shoulder height.

Washing her hands in the sink, Misa glanced over at the unconscious form on her couch.

No matter how hard she thought, she couldn't come up with a scenario where he would just leave without questions once he woke up.

Her old instincts drove her hard, urging her to grab the emergency bag under the stairs and sprint somewhere she could disappear.

Like she always had.

Misa ignored the bitter taste the thought brought.

You can't beat yourself up for decisions that are beyond your control, Dr. Lasha’s soothing voice washed over her.

She moved with a quiet resolve—mentally drawing plans and lists while snipping some leaves from the Sagiri. It's crisp scent soon filled the air as she ground it into a paste.

The Crimson Woods Sanctuary would be a good place to lay low for a while, she supposed. It was just an hour west of her loft, and she had friends there whom she had worked with before.

Kitra’s boys must have grown a lot by now, she smiled thinking about the little family of fox shifters.

She sighed. Putting the people she knew in danger was out of question.

Misa looked around her loft and winced internally at the green spilling out of every nook and cranny.

Crimson Woods would be the first place they would check, since it was the closest sylvankin settlement from her residence.

Why did it have to be a Yelar of all people? her lips pressed tightly as she scooped the paste into a container and mixed in a few drops of Essense of Derr.

The city’s patrons had eyes everywhere. There was no way they would leave an incident like this univestigated, especially since he was involved.

The Yelars are the reason why I chose to live in Zeva all those years ago. Misa shook her head as she grabbed the concoction and a medical kit while making her way back to the couch. She didn’t particularly relish the irony that her choice had come back to bite her in the ass.

She sat down next to him, and carefully arranged the pillows around him so he was more comfortable.

His breathing was steady and light, assuring her that he was recovering alright.

Outside, the street was deserted. There weren't a lot of nocturnal shifters in her area, especially around her complex.

The rain pattered lightly, starting and stopping in fits.

Misa carefully cleaned up the blood on his chest, studiously avoiding any thoughts about the hard planes of his chest. She soaked some bandages in the green sludge and placed it over the wounds. The remaining tightness on his face eased as the mixtured cooled down the burning wounds.

Sitting back on her haunches, she wondered what to do about his thigh wound.

She would rather chug the remaining painkiller mix than take off his pants.

In the end, Misa grabbed a pair of scissors from the medical kit and cut the fabric around his wound to apply the mixture

Please don’t ask me to pay for your pants, she thought with a grimace. Stars, I can’t afford whatever swanky stuff royals wear.

Once she was done, Misa adjusted his shirt to look more presentable and made sure he was resting flat on his back without pressing on the healing wounds. His magic lingered about as she worked, making her stand up and hurry back to the kitchenette uneasily.

She paced the cramped length of the space nervously.

“What now?” she muttered, arms wrapping tight around her ribs. She could feel the various vines and stalks that spilled down the ceiling or lined the walls stir slightly as her anxiety rolled off her magic.

Misa glanced up at the wide-faced clock hanging over her table.

It was almost two thirty.

…And the sedating effects of the painkiller would only last for two to three hours.

She guiltily glanced at the residue left in the bowl that she had chucked in the sink.

It was just a side-effect of the painkiller! It just so happens to help my plans as well. Her argument sounded weak, even to herself.

I need to leave in the next fifteen minutes, she decided, ignoring her wavering conscience.

She stalked towards the loft stairs, and grabbed the unassuming grey bag that rested behind it. It had all her identifying papers, a little stash of money and a change of clothes. She hurried up the stairs to the sleeping loft to grab her laptop and another pair of clothes. Stuffing them both in the bag, she made her way down—almost tripping facefirst onto the floor, when her jasmine vine: Tara, wrapped a stem around her ankle with a sulky grip.

Tara was arguably the clingiest of all her green pets, though there was some close competition. Misa was used to feeling the silky tendrils curl arounds her legs as she slept, and tickling her face to wake her up in the mornings.

There was also the fact that Tara passionately hated the string of hearts that grew above her bed, wreathing the skylight.

Misa shook her head fondly at the childish jasmine.

“I'll be back in a week or so. Don't be too upset while I'm away, ok?”

The tendrils tightened forlornly, and Misa felt a pang as she looked around the loft.

Her pets would be fine without her for the next week since they were magically strengthened from their connection to her.

They’ll look out for each other while I’m gone, she consoled herself. But I'll miss them.

“I promise I'll be back soon,” she cooed softly, bending down to brush a kiss on the white starlets flushed with dark pink, blooming lushly along the stairs.

Once Tara reluctantly released her, she silently picked her way around the little apartment, searching for anything that might give her away. Her eyes kept flitting to the unconscious man resting on the sofa near the door, half-afraid he might wake up suddenly.

Misa paused next to a little pot tucked behind various fronds and trailers on the windowsill. There was a plant inside with sinuated ashy green leaves and a thick stem that grew upto two hands height.

Her fingers shook slightly as she gently touched the base, sending an extra pulse of her life force into it.

If someone familiar with plants saw this growing here, they’d definitely be suspicious. She struggled indecisively before deciding to leave it unmoved.

Surely, a sylphkin would not be able to recognise you.

Her fingers trailed across the coarse upperside of leaf.

Right, mama?

She teared herself away and checked the time. She had to leave soon.

Misa made her way back to the kitchen and quickly cleared the mixture bowl and placed the silk pouch back in her stash. She glanced at the young Sagiri plant.

There was no time to replant it elsewhere, so she lifted the heavy stone bowl onto the kitchen counter and arranged some dishes and succulents around it to make it look as unassuming as possible.

There, she thought with satisfaction.

Tossing a snack into her bag, she decided she was ready to leave. Her steps stilled however, when she reached the side of her “guest”.

She looked back at her worktable.

Maybe…

A few minutes later, the door opened with a click.

Misa glanced back from the threshold.

Her eyes traced his sleeping face. The planes of his face were softened in the shadowy moonlight without the glow of the charm crystals. His caramel-golden locks rested against his cheek with a muted brightness, and there was something oddly vulnerable in the slight downturn at the corner of his lips as he slept.

Her heart squeezed. She had the stupidest urge to stay and watch him till he woke up.

Ok crazy, it's time to get you out.

She turned abrupty and left.