Greengrass: Heart's Answer

---

It was the day before Greengrass and Merla was practically buzzing.

The fae-bard was on a continued high from the success of her first gala as the Summer Court’s Revelry Envoy. The ballet had been the crowning event for the folk of the Giselle Bough Woods, many seeking Merla out afterwards to hear the tale again and again. It made her smile, even now as she passed through the oak door that serves as her own entrance to the private garden abutting the terrace of her suite at the Four Fair Winds.

“I’m back!” Merla says, opening the double stained glass doors to her suite.

“Welcome back!”

Lumina flutters over to her, buffeting her face with light and the soft smell of flowers and honey. Merla giggles and holds out her arm for the faerie dragon to alight there.

“Where is Kruxeral?” she asks, looking around. Merla is surprised to see the main room tidied and put to rights, her make-shift bed and sleeping area dismantled.

“He is rehearsing with the children,” Lumina says, nuzzling into Merla’s neck.

“I thought everything was done and ready. What is there to still work through?”

The tiny dragon shrugs, sending a ripple of shimmering golden light across her scales. Merla narrows her eyes.

“What aren’t you telling me Lu?”

Astra comes up behind Merla, one large eye peering down at the tiny creature.

“Did you bring me some sweets from home?” Lumina asks, blatantly ignoring their looks to snake her head around Merla to see what she is carrying in her other hand. She sniffs the air. “Is that… feyberry pie?!” Her tail starts swishing excitedly.

Merla tries to hide the box behind her but Lumina is too quick. She takes off, darting around and snatching the box from Merla’s hand and flying off to the bedroom.

“Lumina!” Merla calls, dashing after her. “That is something we’re to share not-”

She stops dead. Everything is neat and tidy, but that isn’t what has her frozen with uncertainty. It is a note with a sprig of forget-me-nots laying in front of it. Heart pounding, Merla goes over to it, drawn like a moth to the flame.

“Kruxeral wanted to make sure you saw that right away when you returned,” Lumina says from the canopy of the bed, pausing in her opening of the box with the Summer Court delicacy in it to watch her.

Merla looks back to Astra, but even her closest friend doesn’t say anything, not sure what to make of it.

Fingers trembling from her pounding heart, she picks it up and reads the note.

---

“It’s my birthday! Why are we fighting?!”

Merla hears Arkadius’ voice loud and clear from backstage and winces. This was not how the concert was supposed to go.

Her best friend had already done his set with the youngest students of Red’s School. This group included not only those from Thia’s Refuge but some from families in Daring who had their children attend the educational institution. That was one of the changes from the first concert Merla had put on. She wanted to include all of the young ones who had joined Red’s School, not just those who had lost their parents. It had meant more work for Kruxeral and Arkadius, and on the staff of the school itself, but she had been insistent. There hadn’t been anyone to voice a contrary opinion before now. So why was she hearing the sounds of muffled and disgruntled voices?

Merla throws one last look out at the milling crowd, praying their patience will win out and that no one heard her friend’s comment, before heading back around the school’s main building to see what trouble was brewing.

“I thought this was a concert for the children! Why were you singing? Shouldn’t the children be doing so?” a disgruntled parent asks, chest puffed out as he attempts to stare down her friend. Arkadius, to his credit, was holding his hands up in a placating gesture, keeping his expression calm through his confusion. “I thought this concert was for them, not you adventurers.”

“What seems to be the problem here?” Merla asks, her voice sweet but attention grabbing. “Are you the father of one of the children who just performed?”

The human man whirls around, expecting someone taller than her because he looks over Merla’s head before glancing down. His frown deepens.

“Are you the one who’s organized this?” he asks.

“Me and my associates with the coordination of Allenby and the staff at the Gretcha Coldiron School, yes,” Merla answers calmly.

“Then perhaps you can explain to me why my son-” he gestures and Merla sees a young half-elven boy, with sandy blonde hair shift uncomfortably as he looks from his father to Merla, big brown eyes wide with uncertainty, “-did not sing! His voice is beautiful, I have it on good authority from his tutor.”

“I see,” she says. Merla glances at the young boy, his name coming to her and she gives him a small smile. “The children themselves chose which section of the concert they wanted to perform in Mr. Angelloni. We did not assign them. So if Luca chose to be in Mr. Hogg’s set, then there must have been a reason for him to have done so.”

“Yes, Luca has been wonderful on the dulcimer-” Akradius began but Mr. Angelloni whirled around.

“My son is meant to be singing not accompanying some winged dev-”

“Mr. Angelloni.”

Kruxeral’s voice halts all conversation. Angelloni stops advancing on Arkadius and turns, only to step back a little as the satyr casually walks towards him. Merla recognises the look on his face and watches Kruxeral carefully.

“I do believe the next set is about to begin and your being backstage is greatly disturbing the art form you are so desperate to be part of through your son’s burgeoning tallents,” Kruxeral says, his voice silky smooth. “If you were a true artist you would not be causing a scene that disturbs not only the art which your son has just done but those his friends are about to create. It behooves you to remove yourself from where you have no experience nor understanding.” A light shimmers in his eyes and Merla swears she can smell a familiar heady fragrance in the air.

“I…” Angelloni’s fury turns to confusion. He looks between Kruxeral, Merla, Arkadius and then his son. “I… am sorry, Luca. I will go and rejoin your mother.”

Merla catches a glimpse of a mischievous grin as Kruxeral turns to watch the man go.

“Mr. Hogg, I… I’m sorry…”

Merla turns back to see Luca looking down at his feet as he wrings his hands in a child’s self-conscious way.

Arkadius kneels down in front of the boy.

“Why are you apologising?” he asks. Merla sees a little white nose peeking out from an inner pocket of Arkadius’ pin-stripped suit.

“Because I ruined your birthday,” Luca mumbles.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I chose to perform with you and my Dad started shouting at you and it’s your birthday and I’m really not that great on the dulcimer.” He pauses. “I’m really not great at music at all.”

There is a beat of silence.

“What’s that Ida?” Arkadius pauses. “Yeah, I agree. There was no one else I wanted to have accompanied me on my birthday. It brought a new life to one of my favourite songs!”

Luca looks up and blinks in surprise at the small, white weasel that has crawled out from Arkadius’ jacket to peer at the young boy. He looks from the furry familiar to Arkadius and starts to smile.

“You mean it?”

Arkadius nods. “Absolutely.”

There is a moment’s hesitation and then to Arkadius’ surprise, Luca throws his arms around the tiefling’s neck in a hug. Ida squeaks in delight and runs around the little boy’s arms. Arkadius glances at Merla, who gives him a wink. She is just turning away as she hear’s Luca say, “Mr. Hogg, I don’t mean to be rude but… you kinda smell like blink dog poop.”

The fae-bard tries not to giggle too loudly.

Kruxeral comes up beside her as she makes her way back to the stage area where she will introduce the next set of the concert – his set. She looks up at him, but cannot read his expression.

“Those were some choice words you said to Luca’s father,” she intones, implying she knows he used a spell on the man.

One side of his mouth lifts up a little. “Sometimes one has to use the talents they have in order to tell someone how they really feel.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And you really felt it necessary to charm him into leaving?”

“I could not have him continue as he was, about to debase the sanctuary of our stage by turning what was his gripe at the world into a matter of fisticuffs,” Kruxeral sniffs. “Young artists like Luca that are on the verge of discovering something great cannot be around such brutes.”

“It isn’t our place to tell the children’s parents how to raise them…” Merla says, though she too had been on the verge of telling Angelloni to get the Hells out of there. Kruxeral happened acted faster than her.

“All will be well, Merla. Not even the Angelloni’s of the Realms can disrupt our music.”

They both stop walking and look at each other – Merla up into bright green eyes the colour of leaves lit by bright sunlight; Kruxeral down into the depths of an ocean, with a ring of golden stars at its centre. The space between them was charged with something unsaid, its presence another entity entirely unto itself. The soft buzz of conversation from the audience just around the corner fades away and all Merla can hear is the soft drumming of her heart.

This is the first private moment she’s had with Kruxeral all day and of course it is just before he goes on stage. She has been wanting to ask him why he made it look like he wasn’t going to be staying with her any more. Was he leaving? Did he find out what he wanted from Thino and discover he couldn’t love her? What Ulorian had said during the duel intrudes her thoughts-
“You’re not the same person he fell in love with the first time. How can you possibly think he’ll fall in love with you now?”
-and the thorn in Merla’s heart twists. After everything that has happened, she is scared to allow herself to hope and after the encounter with Ghislane she wasn’t sure what Kruxeral would choose. She tries to read what those eyes, green as the forests of her home, are wanting to say. Is that uncertainty about her, the performance, or something else? She wants to ask, but now is not the time nor the place. They have a minute, maybe less. She should say something to him, but what?

It is Kruxeral who decides for her. His hand reaches across the expanse between them, trailing lightly, almost hesitantly, down her arm to her hand up. His touch is gentle, new and Merla feels a heat blossoming within her. But she holds it back from extending too far too quickly. It could burn through her if she’s not careful.

“I know you are waiting for an answer, Merla,” the satyr says softly, fingers tracing small circles over her hand. His eyes never leave her face. “Will you listen to my Song to hear it?”

Her breath catches but Merla nods. “I will.”

“Hmm,” he intones, bowing his head, looking down at their hands. As Kruxeral lets go, he turns around. “Everyone ready?”

Merla looks past him to see the older students along with a number of the ones who had performed in the first concert. She spots Ethane, the young human boy who had a penchant for mischief and always tried to push for learning magic along with music. He was holding a brand new violin and bow as he gave Merla a big grin before glancing at Kruxeral.

“Why do I feel like you’re scheming something?” she whispers in a low voice to the satyr.

Kruxeral’s eyes colour with laughter but he doesn’t say anything. Merla notes there’s no trace of uncertainty anywhere.

“We’re ready, Master Kruxeral,” a young dwarven boy by the name of Torgrun, stage whispers.

“Excellent.” Switching to Sylvan Kruxeral says, “Merla, when you’re ready.”

Was she ready?

There was only one way to find out.

---

The last bars of the song drifted through the air has Kruxeral closing his eyes in bliss. This was what he was missing. This right here. Everything leading up to him being on stage with the young ones of Daring was just the build up. This was the release, the final intruding weed being cleared from his mind so he could do this next part.

The audience, grown a little larger as the second set progressed sees some familiar faces. A middle aged halfling woman stands with a man and three girls, though one looks slightly different than the others. Kruxeral vaguely remembers the woman’s name being like a type of silken cloth… Taffeta. Yes. Those around her must be her family. It is strange. Kruxeral knows Merla to also be a halfling despite her overtly fey appearance. The difference between the two women is so vast though it is hard to imagine Merla as anything but a fey.

Another familiar face in the crowd catches his eye – a black scaled head covered in an absurdly juxtaposed trilby hat. Ghesh. He is making his way over to Taffeta, the general milling of the audience building a little in the lull after their applause. It was finally time. The last song of their set. Merla was not aware he had decided to change it and Kruxeral had made sure all of the students had promised they would keep the secret.

“This song is very important,” Kruxeral explained carefully. “It is an answer to a question. Not a word or a note of it must be breathed to Auntie Sheryl before it is performed.”

“Is it some sort of love song?” Ethane asked.

It was the day after Thino’s visit. Kruxeral had been up early writing this new song. It had come to him whilst he slept and would not leave him be until he had written it down – all parts for each instrument, including the lyrics. He was still tired from the frantic composing he had done but that feeling paled in comparison to the fluttering he felt when he thought about performing it.

“It is…” Kruxeral answered slowly, thinking. “But it is also more than that. You are all young, and quite frankly, new to the world and what potentials it can hold for you-”

“Aww, come on. Don’t say ‘You’ll understand when you’re older,’” Ethane grumbled. The other children nod. “If we had a copper every time the adults said that to us we’d be as rich as the merchants in this city.”

“You misunderstand me, young Ethane,” Kruxeral said.

The youth tilts his head. “Then tell us.”

And he had.

Now, Kruxeral turns to the students, the children of this mortal city, those that chose to be part of this song. They all look to Ethane, ready to take their cue from him. He looks to Kruxeral and gives the satyr a nod.

He holds up a hand and a hush falls over the audience in the warm, spring afternoon. The sun is not as hot as the Summer Lands, but he feels a warmth coming from within his chest, rising to meet this realm’s light.

“I hope you are listening,” Kruxeral says clearly, voice carrying easily. Some of the parents look at each other, confused. He does not try to find where Merla may be, even as the audience begins to cheer for them. He simply looks over his shoulder to Ethane and nods. The young man lifts the violin up and positions the bow so it is hovering over the strings.

Then he begins to play.

The melody is achingly sweet, a solo carried into the air that is the voice of longing. Many in the audience gasp disbelief. It speaks of a maturity that is beyond Ethane’s years, of a depth that no child should. Yet it is there, drifting through the air and all around them.

It is perfect in its raw beauty.

Then Kruxeral begins playing the grand keyed instrument and the other children fill in the space around the violin with soft percussive drums, echoing lute plucking, and other string and wind instruments. It’s a sound unheard of before and it matches the beating in the satyr’s heart. For this song is his heart laid bare and open.

All for Merla to see and hear.

        Your baby is a monster
        You don’t know the things I’ve done
        The sky that I sleep under
        You don’t know what I’ve become

        Well, I think of you as comfort
        I tell my head that’s who you are
        So take another mental picture
        Could you love me?
        Could you love me?

        All in all I’m not the same
        And I try to tell you everything
        All of the things I’ve done
        I could never come back home

        All in all I’m not the same
        And I’m scared to tell you everything
        All of the things I’ve done
        Would you let me come back home?
        I wanna come back home
        I wanna come back
        I wanna come back home

---

Merla watches as Kruxeral performs on stage with the children. The song wasn’t one they had agreed upon, it was new. And oh how the air sang with it’s melody and heartbreaking confession.

        Yeah I need to tell you thank you
        And I think that you’re the one
        You don’t see what goes on in me
        Or all the damage that I’ve done

        Yeah I think of you as comfort
        I tell my head I have your soul
        So take another mental picture
        Could you love me?
        Could you love me?

“Merla are you alright?”

Arkadius’ soft voice is right beside her. She blinks and feels tears streaming down her face.

“What’s wrong?” her friend asks, growing concerned. Ida gives a little squeak.

Merla just shakes her head, unable to answer. Kruxeral’s voice calls to her, his music pulling her heartstrings as it wraps her in a new embrace that somehow feels warmer than anything she’s ever heard from him before.

“It’s his answer…” she finally replies. She sighs a relieved laugh even as she is crying.

Arkadius looks at her, confused. Then his ears pick up the words of the refrain, a chanting-like lyric, entreating the listener to love them, hold them, forgive them, and take them back. The tiefling looks down to his friend and a smile bends his lips. He stays there beside Merla, as she listens with her heart and soul to Kruxeral’s song…

        Love me and hold me
        I want to come bacK
        I want to come back home
        Where you go I'll follow
        Could you love me?
        Could you love me?

        All in all I’m not the same
        And I’ve tried to tell you everything
        Look at all of the things I’ve done
        But you never come back home

        All in all I’m not the same
        And I’m scared to tell you everything
        Look at all of the things I’ve done
        Would you let me come back home?
        I wanna come back home
        I wanna come back
        I wanna come back home

---

At the reception after the concert, it was clear there was a divide between those of the audience who enjoyed the final song in Kruxeral's set and those who did not. Some even went so far as to say it was risky having a fey teach their children music, especially after what happened at the Fort not four months ago. Bringing their kind into their children’s lives when the Fey Queen’s death was clearly tied to the adventurers was something many parents did not feel comfortable with.

The children disagreed, saying when they played music with Master Kruxeral they finally understood something. Adults being keen to know everything tried to press the kids for what they meant. Merla knew what they were talking about. It was what had drawn her to him in the first place all those years ago, back when she was much younger than they and in a strange place filled with many unfamiliar and scary things. She wondered if perhaps there could be a future for these children in continuing to learn and study music. Maybe some sort of bardic college…

Merla was in the midst of speaking to some of the parents – a few still voicing concerns about Kruxeral though the complaints seemed to die down with every passing word from her lips – when suddenly the man himself was beside her, a charming smile on his face.

“I’m still not comfortable with a satyr teaching my daughter music. I mean, what is he half cow-”

“I’m actually full fey,” he says, interrupting the pursed lipped mother who did not realise Kruxeral was standing right behind her. She gave a little yelp of surprise that had the children nearby snickering. “We come in many shapes and sizes. I am but the most normal variety. Still a tick more interesting than a mundane human, but I won’t fault you for that.”

He chuckles and all around them join in, except the woman he was speaking to.

“If you will excuse us,” he says abruptly, taking Merla’s hand.

In a flash of fragrant moss smelling light, Merla suddenly finds herself standing with Kruxeral in the garden of Thia’s Refuge. She looks around, checking to see if anyone is there but all the children are still enjoying the other games and activities hosted on the School’s grounds. The two have the place to themselves for now.

“My gratitude for saving me from them,” Merla says, a shyness washing over her.

“Well, I will admit I was being a bit selfish by whisking you away like that,” Kruxeral says, a mischievous twinkle to his eyes.

“You were, but I don’t mind. In fact I-”

“Merla.”

The way he says her name stops her. From one moment to the next Kruxeral’s demeanour changes and Merla holds herself back from what she was about to say. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, clasping them together, then resting them on his hips before finally letting them fall to his sides. He takes a breath, looks her in the eyes and begins to speak.

“It is a strange thing, not being sure of yourself. Not knowing who you truly are. Things you know you should be good at don’t happen in a certain way anymore and you’re left asking why? How did I get here? Being told is one thing. But… I wanted to understand. I needed to understand.” He pauses to shift on his cloven feet. “Thino said you have always found a way to look at the positive, to see the good in people. When I look at you, I see what I can be, not who I’ve heard was. That fey isn’t part of me anymore, the Raven Queen took him away. I know you may hate her for that, but I don’t. I am not going to start praying to her but I am choosing to see the light through the dark clouds that have been hanging over me. Your light, Merla.”

Kruxeral steps closer and this time when he takes her hand it is with purpose, certainty. Merla’s heart flutters, the thorn dislodging and the warmth from earlier spreading in hope.

“If you think it’s possible that we could learn about each other again, start anew – no preconceived notions about who we were or the ghosts of our past decisions weighing us down – then I would choose to be by your side. For when I am here I feel whole. I feel certain. I…” he trails off, eyes half closing as he slightly tilts his head to the side. “I hear the echoes of a song in my heart. I have no memory of ever hearing it anywhere before, yet its melody feels familiar…” He opens his eyes and steps a little closer. “I want to discover that song and listen to its melody for years, decades, eons to come.”

One of his hands gently cups Merla’s upturned face, his thumb brushing the curve of her cheek intimately.

“You are not a stranger to me, Merla. My heart knows you. I feel it every time you look at me, every smile a gift. I want to be worthy of them. I want to be worthy of you, Merla.”

Kruxeral looks into her eyes as she looks into his – forests vast and oceans deep – and in that expansive space they both feel a string pull them closer together.

“Will you have me?”

His question echoes down into her bones, resonating deep within her very soul. As Merla reaches up to hold his face in her hands, a radiance unseen before shines from her, bright as any star in the heavens.

“From now, until eternity’s end,” she vows to him.

The forests in his eyes brighten as Kruxeral smiles, drawing Merla towards him. When their lips meet, it is like the heavens and the earth colliding.

And the whole world sings.