There was a warm body next to Catherine when she woke up. Everything was still a bit fuzzy around the edges, soft and pliant, and so she cuddled into the welcoming warmth. But the smell was wrong. Not clean and crisp, instead it was musky and earthy. She didn't mind that, particularly, it was a good smell. Weirdly enough, it smelled like home, even though... Even though it didn't smell like Jonathan. Jonathan. Her eyes shot open. Oh Lord, this couldn't be good. It took her quite some time to extricate herself from his arms only to confirm her suspicion: Nathaniel. His arms were still laying around her waist, his eyes were shut, and it looked like he was sleeping peacefully. All that tension had drained from his face, and he looked so incredibly young. Catherine almost reached out to touch his face, just to see if this could be real, if this was really him and not maybe Jonathan, that all those weeks of torture were just a bad dream she was now waking up from.

But then Nathaniel shifted in his sleep and she saw the red t-shirt riding up his stomach and she knew. She knew. In that one moment it all became painfully clear: Jonathan wouldn't be coming back. Not ever. She'd known before, of course. She'd known from the moment they had found his car. It just had never really sunk in. And now here she was, lying in bed besides his brother, who had to miss him just as much as she did, and had never been more thankful for the colour red. Although she was starting to wonder whether he was putting a conscious effort into always reminding her he wasn't Jonathan or if he was just so used to wearing red that he didn't even notice anymore.

Which, by the way, why were they in bed? Because she certainly didn't remember getting in it - and wouldn't ever have invited him. So why... Quickly checking under the blankets she breathed a sigh of relief; at least he hadn't undressed her again. But that had to have been it, she thought, she had fallen asleep, and he had brought her to bed. And, apparently, decided that climbing in with her was a brilliant idea. Sweet Lord.

When she tried to move his arm from her waist for the first time, he made a discontent noise and sidled closer, curling in on her. It made her throat close up. Not Jonathan, she said to herself, he's not Jonathan. Surely he was just searching for warmth. So the next time she went slower, gently lifted his arm, crawled out from under it and put a pillow where she had been lying. He made a little noise and she froze up, but then he cuddled the pillow to his chest and she finally sneaked out of the room, glad to not have woken him up.

Having a walk-in closet had its perks, Catherine decided. It was the very first time she'd ever had this thought, usually she rolled her eyes at it and called it posh, but now she could definitely see the advantages in finding forest-friendly clothes someplace she wouldn't be waking Nathaniel. Much to her dismay she finally settled on a pair of trousers and some ratty t-shirt, combined with her trusty combat boots. Just looking down at herself made her scoff - they were blue jeans. She was pretty sure she hadn't worn blue jeans for at least five years. But what could she do when she didn't want to risk ruining any of her good pants.

She was going to go into that forest, and she was going to have to do it alone if she didn't want to take Nathaniel along, but to hell if she was going to go unprepared. So she packed an old, crumpled map she found somewhere, a bottle of water, an apple and some granola bars and made a great effort not to think about how much this reminded her of girl scouts. Not that it worked, she had to swallow down her laughter. Here she was, set to go scampering into the woods in search of bloody Elves, and all she could think to do was to pack enough snacks and a sweater in case it got cold. She really was going insane. Oh well. Who was she to turn that down if it made her feel better.

ᚱᚱᚱ

By the time Catherine had reached the forest, she was feeling decidedly not good. Her stomach was in a particularly tight knot, and the cold sweat wasn't helping things either. She still couldn't believe she was even doing this; going into the woods in search of bloody Elves. Clearly, she was losing her marbles. But she'd still rather have that than believe Nathaniel without checking up on things, and then granting him the last laugh. Vulnerable might have been a very accurate word to describe her in this moment, but stupid sure wasn't.

So she took a deep breath, straightened her shirt, clutched the shoulder strap of her backpack and forced her feet to move forward. One of two forests in the area had been circled, and that's where she was standing now.
It was a completely random spot she'd chosen, mostly because she didn't want to feel like she was actually preparing for this. The trees were old and big, enormous stems and gigantic crowns. Beautiful. She'd never been one much for nature, but the scenery was just breathtaking. Mystical, even, she begrudingly thought. Little dust particles were dancing above the moss-covered ground, sparkling in the soft light. Birds were chirping, and she told herself that no, they did not sound more musical than normal. Everything around her smelled alive. It was so perfect it almost hurt.

Why had she waited so long to go back to this place? Dozens over dozens of happy childhood memories had been formed between these trees. Exploring, searching for fairy doors, just lying on a blanket and reading... All of it with Jonathan. And she had just abandoned this place when she got accepted at University. How come she hadn't even missed it? Thinking back to it, she'd always almost instantly forgotten about the beauty of this place. Weird.

Without any true sense of direction she was just wandering in a more or less straight line, hugging herself and seriously starting to regret not having taken Nathaniel. Because, as pretty as the forest was, she was still alone. And that never was a good thing.

Then, something caught her attention. It was a symbol, carved into the bark of one of the trees. Originally, she thought she'd just found a really old carved heart. Upon closer inspection though, she saw that it wasn't a heart but something that resembled a stylistic drawing of a fish with its head pointing upwards. Again, just like the symbol on her upper arm, it was strangely pointy. Was it a rune, too?

Turning to look around, Catherine realized that there were symbols on many of the other trees, too. That strange fish-thingy and others. Something that looked like an X, another that resembled an H and one that reminded her of a broom with just three bristles. The fear began to flare up in her again. What did this mean? Had she found what she'd prayed didn't exist? Or had she found some kind of satanic sacrificial site? Honestly, she didn't know what would be worse. So she ran.
Again.

ᚱᚱᚱ

She didn't get very far. One of her feet got caught in what might have been a root, and she landed in the moss, face first. Cursing, she scrambled to stand back up again, only to find that there was a pair of leather boots standing in front of her. Just her luck. Because, of course, there was a person in those boots. She nearly fainted at his sight. The ears.

"Fuck." It slipped from her lips without her even meaning to say it.

The creature in front of her frowned. "Excuse me?"

But she couldn't respond, couldn't apologize, at least not yet. He was an Elf. Sleek, pointy ears and all. His high, sharp cheek bones made his face look almost arrogant, but not enough to take away from his otherworldly beauty. His hair was auburn, held away from his face in intricate little braids, some of them adorned with small metal cuffs. The clothes he wore were simple, but elegant; A forest green tunic with some sort of dark leggins and, well, the boots. What caught her eyes, though, was the hilt of the sword he was currently resting his hand on, sheathed on his waist. Shit. Why couldn't it be just pixies? Why did it have to be Lord of the Rings-type warrior elves?  And why didn't she think to pack a freaking knife? Not that she would be able to wield it, but it would have been useful. The only possibility she had in that moment was to throw an apple at his head and hope to high heavens that it knocked him out. Yeah, nope.

"No, excuse me. I... didn't look where I was going." Please don't kill me. Look, I'm being polite and stuff.

A radiant smile softened his features. "It's perfectly alright. Might I ask what distressed you so? We couldn't spot any danger."

"What?" she asked, perplexed. What was he talking about?

"You were running," he enunciated.

"Yeah." She grinned sheepishly.

"What from?"

Oh. Immediately, her face started to burn. "The trees," she whispered, looking away from him.

The Elf's mouth twitched a bit. "The trees can't harm you. They can't move."

Curious that that was the first thing he stressed, and not the fact that trees, traditionally, were inanimate. "No, the symbols on them. Runes, I believe?"

He nodded carefully. "But those are for protection. You needn't be scared of them."

"Ah." Of course they would be for protection, what else could they be for.

"You won't find any Scorcery here, Lady Keeper. This is the territory of the Light Court, you will not encounter any danger."

She had to clear her throat before she could speak. "Lady Keeper?" So he knew, too. But what... what was it that they all knew?

"Why, yes. Do you wish me to adress you as anything other, my Lady?" the elf asked, confused. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart, to force it to slow its galloping pace. Her throat was closing up, and her vision was beginning to blur. She was terribly dizzy.

"Are you unwell?" the Elf asked, and she almost laughed in his face. Of course. Of course she was unwell. He, after all, seemed to be real. Breathing, speaking, and armed.

"Yeah, I... Sorry." Carefully, she sat down on the root she had tripped over earlier and put her head between her legs. She heard him shift his weight next to her, but didn't lift her head to see what he was doing until she felt his hand on her shoulder and immediately went as stiff as a board.

"I can bring you to a healer, if you want, my Lady," he offered in a quiet voice.

Now she really laughed, short and dry. "I don't need a healer, I need a reality check."

"Excuse me?"

"You're an Elf."

"Yes."

"Exactly!" she exclaimed. "You're not supposed to exist! You're a fairy tale, a story bringing sparks to the eyes of little children! I'm imagining you."

"What are you speaking of? I can assure you that I do, indeed, very much exist," he said in what was probably supposed to be a soothing voice. It just irritated her all the more.

"And why are you speaking like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like you're coming straight out of some damn eighteenth century romance novel, that's what!"

A voice from her right made her head snap around. "Guard, I do believe you're confusing her even more than she's already confusing herself."

This one, hands down, looked like a boy. He had to be around fifteen, with pale skin, his platinum blonde hair in a messy low bun. His left (again, pointy, shit, Elves) ear was pieced, a few rings and stunds glinting in the light that had somehow gotten through the tree tops.

"What?" Her and the guard had spoken at the same time. She inwardly cringed.

The boy grinned, then turned to face the guard. "Why don't you go back to your post?"

"Very well." And he was gone, just turned and walked away, then began running, and she couldn't keep track of his movements anymore, he was so fast.

"Are you armed?" Catherine asked the boy.

His eyebrows shot up almost to his hairline. "What?"

"The other one had a sword. I don't see a sword on you. Are you armed?"

"I have a dagger," he replied, apparently unsure of why she was asking that. And she understood, she did.

"I'm just scared," she explained in a whisper. "Yesterday, I thought there were no Elves outside of books an movies."

His eyes grew huge at that. "Really?"

She nodded.

He whistled. "That's crazy. Explains why you were looking at him like that."

"Who was he?" she wanted to know.

"A guard. I don't know his name, there are quiet a few of them, and I don't exactly get around." His voice showed just how much he liked that; Not at all. The words petulant teenager came to mind. Not that she had a problem with it - if he was young, then maybe he was too young to be a danger to her.

"And who are you?" she wanted to know.

His smile was lopsided, and for a while she just marveled at how happy he seemed to be to be asked that question. "My name is Solas." That was a very simple answer considering that guard just did as he was told without even thinking twice. But she let it go. He was a kid. Seriously, how bad could it be?

"I'm Catherine," she offered, holding out her hand to him. The glint in his eyes when he took it was a bit spooky to her.

"I know," he said. "Jonathan talked about you a lot."

It was as if someone had emptied a bucket of ice cold water over her head. "What?"

"Jonathan," Solas repeated, looking mildly taken aback. "Your fiancé?"

"I know who he was! What I don't know is how you knew him!" This was really upsetting her. And she knew she was getting irrational and that she was overreacting, but she also knew that she didn't care. He was going to tell her what this was about and he was going to do it now, on her terms.

"Oh, you know, politics."

"No, I don't know!"

She should be scared right now, scared for her life. Here she was, in the middle of a forest, with at least two creatures that shouldn't even be real, and who were, on top of that, armed. And yet here she was, making her situation worse.

But Solas, surprisingly, didn't get angry. "Of course, I'm sorry. But you know Jonathan was the Keeper, right?"

"I've been told Jonathan was the Keeper."

"That's a start, then. My mother, she's... important. So, uhm... I met him? I mean, well, he talked to me. And no one talks to me, so I liked him, you know? He was nice."

"That sounds like him." Catherine's throat was closing up at that. It really did sound like him. That kind person who would go say "hi" to the underdog and strike up an immediate friendship with him. Only Solas didn't really appear to be an underdog. More like the preppy rich kid who pierced his ears only to discover that his overworked parents really didn't care.

"He was... How do you call it, cool? Do you still say that?" He had a little crease between his eyebrows, as if he was concentrating really hard.

"Still?" she repeated.

He shrugged and grinned sheepishly. "It's been a few decades since I've been allowed to intermingle with humans. Times are getting dangerous, they've put me on a leash."

"A few decades?" She couldn't possibly have heard that right. Only she did.

"I'm only going on two hundred right now, so yeah, decades," he said defensively.

She did her best to swallow down the obvious next remark on "two hundred?!" because he seemed to be kind of self conscious about it and had been nice to her so far. "Can you tell me what the Keeper is supposed to do?" she asked instead.

That made him raise his eyebrows again. "You don't know?"

"The only thing I really know right now is that some crazy woman cut a rune in my arm and that apparently made me special. Jesus, I just hope she didn't give me Hepatitis or something."

"The last person whose blood was shed with that knife was Jonathan. Anything that was on it - you probably have it already."

The logic in that statement was undeniable, but that didn't really help her.

"But didn't Nathaniel tell you?" Solas wanted to know, looking confused, and rightfully so.

She grimaced. "I didn't really let him talk."

"Why not?"

"Because he's a liar."

"No, he's not!" That was the first real emotion he'd shown, and now she was scared, because she really had underestimated him. He was a freaking Elf, after all, and if she believed him, close to two hundred years old. Very well-trained, most likely. He could probably have her dead within a second, and that was just using his hands. If he even needed to use his hands. Oh God.

She took a shaky step back, frightened of what he would do. But he had already put distance between them by himself, his arms raised, hands held high as if to show defeat.

"No, no, please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Catherine nodded. Not that she was sure that she believed him, but cooperation seemed like a good idea.

The Elf ran a hand through his hair, tugging a few strands loose from their spot in the bun. "I just... Nathaniel doesn't deserve that. He worked really hard, you have to know that. He tried to save him, to salvage the situation, but..."

"But what?" Her voice was unsteady, she hated it.

"But the only person he knew to turn to was me. And I have exactly zero influence on anything. We tried, really, but... no one would listen. I'm so sorry."

Now her eyes were watering, too. Why did everything always have to come back to this? "Didn't you say your Mum was important?"

The snorting sound he made upon hearing that was decidedly unelegant. "Well, yes, my mother" - his emphasis on the word made quite clear that he didn't think she deserved the title "Mum" - "is important. I am not. So why should she listen to me? I have no experience to show for. In their eyes, I'm still a child. A child doesn't get to make important decisions."

She almost giggled when she saw how the tips of his ears turned red. Dangerous or not, that was cute. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"It's so paradox." She almost didn't hear him, but that was probably on purpose. Solas was frowning, almost sneering.

"What's paradox?" she wanted to know.

He laughed. "I'm one hundred and ninety-eight years old and don't get a say. You're twenty-two. And guess what? You'll be making a lot of very important decisions very soon."

Oh. Yes, she could understand how he would be bitter about that.

"Come on," he said, invitingly extending a hand to her. "I'll take you to them, they'll be able to explain this a lot better than I am."

And she took it. In for a penny, in for a pound, wasn't that what people said? If she was already here, she would do some exploring and listen to some explaining.

Let's go down the rabbit hole.

Author's note:

Aaaalrighty, then! That's chapter four for you. If you liked it, please do leave a vote. If you didn't, tell me, I wanna know why.

So who is this Solas guy, how does he fit in? And was it really such a good idea for Catherine to venture into the woods all on her own? Leave your thoughts in the comments!