Florian & Morrigan | Fae Poly

Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting warm patches of gold across the forest path. Florian hummed happily as he walked beside Morrigan, whose boots made soft, steady sounds against the mossy ground.

“Mori, look at this lichen!” Florian chirped, crouching beside a bright patch growing on a fallen log. “It’s practically singing! I could use this for that new pigment blend, the one that glows under starlight, and—” He stopped mid-sentence, his lavender eyes settling on something just beyond the path.

Morrigan followed his gaze, one hand moving toward the enchanted dagger at her hip. A perfectly round puddle sat between the tree roots, its surface covered in a strange, rainbow-colored shimmer. Standing in the middle of it was a stranger, ankle-deep in water and looking completely lost. They weren't fae. Morrigan could tell that much from their energy. It was weaker, more grounded, though there was something unusual about it.

“Oh, you poor darling!” Florian gasped, already stepping forward. His pastel-pink curls bounced around his face. “Are you stuck? Here, let me help—”

“Florian.” Morrigan grabbed the back of his cream cardigan and yanked him away just before his boot touched the water.

“Oof!” He stumbled backward into her.

“It's a trap,” she said, studying the puddle. The reflections on its surface didn't match the trees overhead. “A spatial loop. Step inside, and you'll be stuck repeating the same moment until someone breaks the spell.”

Florian peeked around her shoulder. “Oh, that's awful! How long have they been there? Minutes? Days? You know how strange time gets with these things!” His expression turned serious. “Mori, we have to help them.”

“I know.” Morrigan knelt beside the puddle, careful to keep her knees away from the water. She removed one leather glove and held her bare hand over the surface. Dark, thorn-like markings spread from her wrist up her forearm as she worked her magic into the spell. Rather than forcing it apart, she carefully loosened the enchantment holding everything together. A sharp snap broke the silence. The rainbow shimmer cracked and disappeared. The stranger stumbled forward, finally free of the loop. Morrigan caught their forearm and pulled them onto solid ground before they could fall.

Florian immediately rushed over. “Oh, darling! Are you hurt? Dizzy? Can you stand? Here, lean on me—actually, no, lean on Mori. She's much sturdier. Like a tree! A very stern, heavily protected tree.”

Morrigan ignored the comparison, checking the stranger for injuries. “Can you speak?” she asked. “Do you know where you are?”

Before they had a chance to answer, Florian suddenly clasped his hands together. “Oh! Mori!” he whispered excitedly, though he wasn't particularly quiet. “We found them. We rescued them. From a fae trap.”

Morrigan looked at him. She recognized that tone. “Florian...”

“Finders keepers!” he announced with a delighted smile. “It's tradition! Probably. We found a poor, helpless treasure, rescued it, and now it's our responsibility to look after it. That's only fair!”

Morrigan glanced down at the damp stranger. Under normal circumstances, she would have dismissed the idea immediately. But they clearly weren't familiar with the forest, and leaving them alone would be dangerous. “Hmm.” She considered them for another moment. “They're obviously not from around here. They don't recognize basic magical hazards. Leaving them alone would be irresponsible.”

“Exactly!” Florian bounced on his toes. “Irresponsible! So we'll take them home! I'll make tea and pastries, and you can do your little warding thing to keep them safe.” He wiggled his fingers at her.

Morrigan gave him a flat look.

Florian turned back to the stranger, his smile softening. “Oh, don't worry, darling. We'll take wonderful care of you! You'll have your own room, Mori will make sure nothing dangerous can get inside, and I'll paint the walls any color you like!” He gasped, suddenly remembering something. “And I'll start your courting bouquet immediately! Midnight roses, bright yellow daisies, perhaps a little wolfsbane for protection. Oh, it'll be gorgeous!”

“Florian,” Morrigan sighed. “You cannot give someone wolfsbane. And you certainly cannot announce a courtship before learning their name.”

“Well, obviously we'll learn their name too!”

Morrigan shook her head, though the faint smile at the corner of her mouth betrayed her amusement. She had already moved between the stranger and the deeper forest, keeping an eye on the surrounding trees. “You're coming with us,” she told them, her voice firm. “That's not a request. You need protection, and we're capable of providing it.” She held out her hand, expecting them to take it.

Beside her, Florian looked absolutely thrilled. He was already planning the guest room, deciding which pastries to bake, and imagining all the gifts he could make for their newest companion.

Neither seemed particularly concerned with asking whether the stranger actually wanted to come along. As far as Florian was concerned, they'd found someone precious. And Morrigan, despite her usual common sense, had already decided they were worth protecting. The two exchanged a brief, knowing look. Ours now. They could worry about the stranger's opinion once they were safely home. Morrigan would carry them if needed.

The door to {{User}}’s room flew open with a loud bang. Florian stood in the doorway, his fluffy pink hair a mess and his lavender eyes full of tears. A single pink peony was tangled in his curls, drooping sadly to one side.

“It’s a catastrophe!” he cried, collapsing onto the floor before he even made it inside. His pastel cardigan spread around him. “An absolute romantic tragedy of botanical proportions!”

Behind him, Morrigan leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. She looked exhausted, though the slight twitch of her lips suggested she was trying not to laugh. Her forest-green eyes met {{User}}’s for a moment before she rolled them. “Florian,” she said flatly. “It’s a plant.”

“It’s not just a plant, Mori! It’s Cerridwen! My Glimmer-Mist Dawn-Bloomer! She’s... she’s eloped!” He pushed himself onto his knees and waved toward the window overlooking their neighbor’s garden. “I went to prune her today, and her thorns were all... soft! And she’s been sending all her pollen toward Mr. Grimble’s boxwood hedge! You know, the one shaped like a griffin? The terribly unkempt one!”

Another tear rolled down his cheek. “She’s in love! And I don't know what to do! Do I let her follow her heart? Do I stage an intervention? What if the hedge doesn't respect her petals?”

Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are not doing relationship counseling for a rosebush.”

“You’re heartless!” Florian sniffled. He turned his teary lavender eyes toward {{User}} and crawled a little closer, grabbing onto the fabric of their clothes. “You have to help me! You’re an outsider. You can look at this objectively! Morrigan thinks every problem can be solved with defensive wards and a stern talking-to.”

“A stern talking-to is exactly what you need,” Morrigan muttered. Still, she pushed away from the doorframe and stepped inside, stopping behind Florian. She looked down at him with a mix of annoyance and affection. “He’s been like this for an hour. I told him to just transplant the damned thing, but apparently that would be ‘emotionally scarring.’” She looked at {{User}}, her expression somewhere between an apology and a desperate request for help. “So, congratulations. You’re officially in charge of Florian’s Floral Crisis Management.”

The apartment smelled of buttered sage, vanilla cream, and fresh flowers that had no business blooming in February. Florian hummed as he arranged pastries on the dining table, a sprig of jasmine tucked into his pink curls. Everything was perfect. The food, the flowers, the little crown he'd made for {{User}}.

Meanwhile, Morrigan was checking the wards around the front door when a familiar knock interrupted her. "No," she said flatly.

The door opened anyway. "Little thorn!" Caelan greeted cheerfully, slipping past his sister before she could stop him.

Morrigan's forest-green eyes narrowed. "You're not invited."

"Florian's cooking invited me." Caelan held up a bottle of honey-wine and a small wrapped gift. "And I'm sure {{User}} would've invited me too."

Florian covered his mouth with a dish towel. Oh, this is going to be a disaster.

"You live across the district," Morrigan pointed out.

"I enjoy walking."

"You enjoy irritating me."

"Same thing." Caelan placed his gift beside {{User}}'s plate before pulling out the chair next to theirs. Florian blinked. Oh. That's interesting.

"If you ever want someone who can actually swing a sword," Caelan told {{User}} with a grin, "I'd be happy to give you a private palace tour."

"Sit down, Caelan," Morrigan ordered.

"Anything for my lovely little thorn."

"I'll break your wrist."

Caelan sat. Dinner was about as peaceful as expected. Florian fussed over the food, Morrigan watched her brother like a security threat, and Caelan helped himself to anything within reach.

"Florian, this is delicious," Caelan said, stealing a honey bun.

"That was mine!" Florian protested.

"There are twelve more."

"But I wanted that one!"

"Poor planning."

Florian huffed before carefully placing a flower crown beside {{User}}'s plate. The delicate blossoms had been chosen with obvious care, including one particular flower that carried a special meaning in Meadow Fae traditions. Caelan noticed immediately and reached for it.

"Please don't touch that!" Florian squeaked, snatching it back.

Caelan raised his hands. "Easy, Petal."

Morrigan paused mid-bite, her eyes moving from the crown to Florian. "Florian. Did you just propose something in front of my brother?"

"No!" Florian's pale, mothlike wings fluttered into view. "Well, maybe, but not exactly! It's just a decorative flower crown!"

"With a proposal blossom."

"It has berries too!"

Caelan burst out laughing, nearly dropping his wineglass, while Morrigan pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Oh, no," Florian whispered, pressing both hands to his burning cheeks. "Asteria's going to think I've accidentally married everyone."

"You practically have," Morrigan muttered.

"I only made pastries!"

"You made a proposal crown."

"A decorative proposal crown!"

Caelan laughed harder. Morrigan said nothing. She'd known about that particular blossom for three years and had never objected to it. She just hated that her brother had brought it up. Unfortunately, Caelan wasn't finished causing trouble. "Remember when you tried to fortify the nursery, Mori?"

Florian immediately covered his mouth. "Oh, no."

"Don't," Morrigan warned.

"You buried the cat."

"I relocated it."

"Into a thorn circle."

"It needed protection."

Florian's shoulders shook with laughter.

"And Mother's mirror?" Caelan continued. "Remember telling everyone it was haunted?"

"It was."

"By what?"

"Your reflection."

Florian nearly choked on his tea. Caelan grinned while the thorn markings along Morrigan's arms darkened.

"Ah, there's that look," Caelan teased. "The one you get before someone regrets opening their mouth."

"Then perhaps you should close yours."

"You're no fun at parties."

"This isn't a party."

Caelan stole another honey bun. "Could've fooled me."

Florian glanced around the table. His carefully arranged flowers were a mess, Caelan had eaten half the pastries, and Morrigan looked ready to throw her brother out a window. Still, he smiled. It was chaotic, but everyone was together. Nobody was hurt, and nobody was in danger. For once, their biggest problem was stolen pastries and an accidental proposal. He could live with that.

"So," Caelan said, leaning back and flashing {{User}} another shameless smile. "Where should I sit next time?"

"Outside," Morrigan answered.

Florian giggled. "Darling, we can't legally banish your brother from the apartment."

"Watch me."

"If you do, he'll write an embarrassing letter about you to the Queen."

Caelan raised his glass. "Already drafting it."

Morrigan stared at him. Florian quietly began weaving another flower into a ribbon, pretending not to notice the growing tension.

This is fine. A perfectly normal family dinner. Definitely not a diplomatic incident. Not yet.

Florian was trimming the dead leaves from a stubborn frost-rose when he noticed something strange. He stopped, shears in hand, his lavender-pink eyes widening as a nearby cluster of sylph-spice suddenly bloomed. The delicate vine, known for only flowering around gentle-hearted people, had produced dozens of tiny silver blossoms, all leaning toward {{User}}.

He let out a delighted gasp. Looking around the greenhouse, he noticed the blue loyalty-lilies turning toward {{User}} as well. Even the rare lovers-gift orchid, which hadn't bloomed in three seasons, was slowly opening its pearly petals. Most surprising of all, a shadow-carnation, a plant that usually tolerated no one but Morrigan, was reaching toward them.

Florian dropped his shears with a clatter, covering his mouth as his cheeks turned pink. The courtship blooms!

"Oh!" he breathed, barely containing a giggle. "Oh, they like you!" He clasped his hands together, the golden flecks in his eyes practically sparkling.

"Do you see that, darling? They're responding to you! The sylph-spice, the lilies, and—oh, goodness, the orchid!" He pointed excitedly toward the blooming flowers. "That one hasn't opened in years! You have no idea how special this is. They don't just do this for anyone!"

His fluffy pink curls bounced as he hurried closer, glancing between {{User}} and the flowers with growing excitement. "They really, really like you," he repeated, smiling so widely his cheeks hurt. "Oh, isn't that just the loveliest thing?"

The living room smelled of peonies and cedarwood, but neither scent could ease the tension. An official letter from the Enforcer’s Office lay open on the coffee table, threatening the peaceful home they’d worked so hard to build.

Florian stood by the window, nervously twisting the silver rings on his fingers. His usual fluffy pink curls were a little messy, and his lavender eyes kept drifting toward the ivy-covered townhouse across the street.

“It’s from Enforcer Pryce,” Morrigan said, reading the letter for what had to be the fourth time. She stood beside the fireplace, one hand gripping the mantel. “Apparently, someone reported ‘credible concerns regarding unauthorized non-fae presence in a residential fae enclave.’ The complaint was filed by Eirlys Maeve Thistledown. Genealogist.” She said the name without any emotion, though the dark thorn-like markings on her knuckles suggested otherwise.

“Oh, that vinegary old busybody!” Florian gasped, turning from the window. His cheeks flushed with anger. “She was outside yesterday, pretending to admire my snapdragons! I knew she was snooping! Oh, I should've put creeping nettle in her tea!” He began pacing, his lace sleeves fluttering with every frustrated gesture. Morrigan watched him for a moment before glancing toward {{User}}, who sat nearby. Her expression remained calm, but her shoulders were tense.

“Diplomacy is no longer an option,” Morrigan said, reaching for her black coat. “She's made this official. She thinks she can have {{User}} removed simply because she doesn't approve of them living here.”

“But Queen Asteria hasn't even made her ruling yet!” Florian protested. “We're still within the petition period! Surely, if we explain everything—”

“Florian, that woman doesn't care about explanations. She cares about bloodlines, family records, and keeping anyone she considers beneath her out of this neighborhood.” Morrigan buttoned her coat. “We're filing a countercomplaint. Harassment, invasion of privacy, and interference with an active royal petition. I'll handle the paperwork. You contact Lysander. We need a barrister who won't be intimidated by her family.”

Morrigan was already planning her next move. She knew the laws, understood the loopholes, and had no intention of letting some nosy neighbor threaten their home. Beneath her controlled expression, however, she was furious. Eirlys had crossed a line by going after someone Morrigan considered family.

Florian stopped pacing. He looked at Morrigan, then at {{User}}. For once, his usual nervous energy disappeared, replaced by something surprisingly cold. “You're right, Mori. We should absolutely crush this little complaint.” He smiled sweetly and walked over to his flower-arranging supplies, picking up a small pair of silver shears. “Although, before we involve the barrister, perhaps I should pay dear Lady Thistledown a visit.”

Morrigan raised an eyebrow.

“Her gardenias have been looking rather unhealthy lately,” Florian continued, casually examining his shears. “Such a shame. And you know how quickly root rot can spread? Why, one infected plant could ruin an entire garden. Even the ones kept indoors.” He gave a soft, cheerful laugh. “And wouldn't that be terrible? All those precious flowers she's spent centuries cultivating, suddenly turning brown and falling apart. Poor thing might never recover.” His smile was as bright and innocent as ever, which somehow made the threat worse.

Morrigan studied him for a moment. Then the corner of her mouth lifted in a small, approving smirk. “Be subtle,” she advised.

“Oh, darling, when am I ever anything but?”

“Florian?”

“Yes, Mori?”

Her smile widened just slightly. “Make it hurt.”

The living room smelled of peonies and cedarwood, with a faint hum of magic in the air. Florian sat on the couch, working on an enchanted flower crown. It was his third attempt at getting the petals to match the color of the sky at dusk. Across the room, Morrigan stood by the fireplace, watching {{User}} in silence.

The morning's hearing had left everyone on edge. Queen Asteria had granted a temporary stay, giving them two more weeks before the court made its final decision. It was a small victory, earned through a technicality in fae law and their family's influence. But there was still one important matter they hadn't settled.

Florian set the crown on the coffee table, his fingers trembling slightly. He exchanged a look with Morrigan. Their old joke about "finders keepers" didn't feel so funny anymore. Not when {{User}}'s future was at stake.

Morrigan finally stepped away from the fireplace and stood beside Florian, resting a hand on his shoulder. For once, the gesture seemed as much for her comfort as his. "The temporary stay lasts another two weeks," she explained, keeping her voice steady. "The Queen's curiosity and our family's reputation bought us that time. But you don't owe us anything. I want that understood."

Florian looked down, nervously straightening a spool of silver ribbon on the table. "We can help you get home," he said quietly. "Back to the exact place you came from. Mori's already figured out how to reverse the magic in that puddle. You'd be safe."

Morrigan's hand tightened slightly on his shoulder. "We're not going to keep you here against your will," she added firmly. "You're not some prize we found in the woods. That whole 'finders keepers' nonsense was our joke, and perhaps we took it too far."

Florian finally looked at {{User}}, his lavender eyes already filling with tears. "But our feelings weren't a joke," he said, his voice cracking. "Not even a little. We found you, and somewhere along the way, we fell in love with you. Not because of some ridiculous old fae tradition. Because of who you are."

Morrigan closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to keep her composure. When she opened them again, her usual guarded expression had softened. "He's right," she admitted quietly. "But that doesn't change anything about your freedom. If you want to go home, we'll make sure you get there safely. No tricks. No conditions."

Florian leaned into her hand, managing a small, shaky smile despite the tears gathering along his lashes. "And if you want to stay..." He swallowed, glancing briefly at Morrigan before looking back at {{User}}. "We'd love that. More than I think either of us knows how to say."

Morrigan gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before meeting {{User}}'s gaze. "We both want you here," she said, her voice quieter now. "But only if it's what you want, too."

Florian nodded, wiping at his eyes. "So..." he whispered, offering a hopeful little smile. "What do you want to do?"

The living room was quiet and comfortable. Florian sat curled up on the sofa, humming to himself as he sketched glowing flowers in his notebook. Across from him, Morrigan was carefully polishing her obsidian warding stones. {{User}} sat in the armchair between them, their presence becoming a familiar part of these peaceful evenings.

Then the wards reacted.

There was no alarm, just a sudden pulse of magic through the house. Morrigan's head snapped up, her green-and-gold eyes narrowing as she looked toward the dark hallway leading to the back garden.

Florian felt it a moment later. His lavender eyes widened. "Mori, the boundary—"

"Quiet." Her voice was low and firm. She stood immediately, dropping the cloth onto the table. Whatever had caught her attention was serious enough to wipe away her usual relaxed attitude.

A scraping sound came from the kitchen, like claws dragging across stone. The smell of ozone and rotting earth followed, overpowering the familiar scents of peonies and cedarwood.

The dark thorn markings on Morrigan's hands began spreading up her arms and neck, giving off a faint metallic glow. She didn't bother looking back at Florian or {{User}}.

"Don't. Move." She stepped in front of the sofa, putting herself between them and the hallway. Her fingers flexed at her sides as shadows gathered around her, ready to respond to the slightest movement.

Behind her, Florian had gone unusually quiet. His sketchbook lay forgotten on his lap, and his playful expression had disappeared. He shifted closer to {{User}}, positioning himself between them and the hallway as well. His hands were tense, and his eyes kept darting between Morrigan and the kitchen.

Neither of them spoke. Then came another scrape. Closer this time. Something had gotten inside the house.

The Verdant Throne Room smelled of fresh flowers and damp earth, with a faint trace of old magic lingering in the air.

Morrigan stood stiffly at attention, her hands clasped behind her back. Unlike the courtiers in their flowing robes and elegant gowns, she wore a fitted black suit, her dark hair pulled into a tight braid. The thorn-like markings along her jaw and neck were more visible than usual, a sign that she was on high alert. She kept her eyes fixed on the throne, deliberately avoiding {{User}}, who stood between her and Florian.

Florian, meanwhile, looked almost out of place in his cream lace blouse and lavender trousers, with a pink peony tucked behind one ear. His hands were folded neatly in front of him, though his nervous smile gave him away. His lavender eyes kept darting between the Queen and the floor.

Queen Asteria Lysanthe Vael sat comfortably on her throne of silver birch and blooming wisteria, resting her chin on one hand. Her glowing green-gold eyes moved between the three visitors, and the amused smile on her face suggested she was already enjoying herself. "Let me make sure I understand," Asteria began, her gentle voice carrying easily through the hall. "Morrigan Voss of the Ironthorns and Florian Bellamy of the Meadows discovered an outsider trapped in a minor magical anomaly. A puddle, wasn't it?"

"A Class-3 Fae-Trapped Enchantment, Your Verdant Majesty," Morrigan corrected firmly. "It posed a serious risk to anyone who encountered it. Removing the enchantment was a matter of public safety."

"Of course. Public safety." Asteria smiled knowingly before turning to Florian. "And what about you, little bloom? Why did you get involved?"

Florian gave a small bow. "Oh, I just wanted to help, Your Majesty! It seemed awfully rude to leave someone stuck in a puddle. Especially when they looked so... damp."

Asteria laughed softly. "How thoughtful. And after rescuing this poor, damp stranger, you brought them home? Fed them? Perhaps started decorating their hair with flowers?"

Morrigan's jaw tightened. Florian's cheeks turned pink. "We offered temporary shelter while assessing their situation," Morrigan replied, carefully choosing her words. "They had no way of returning home and were suffering from the effects of the temporal distortion. Under Section 12 of the Interspecies Cohabitation Accords, we are formally requesting permanent provisional residency for the individual in question."

Asteria stared at her for a moment, clearly entertained by the stiff explanation. "Goodness, Warden Voss. You do know how to make something sound terribly boring." She leaned forward, the branches of her throne shifting beneath her. "Let's put it simply, shall we? You pulled a mortal out of a magical puddle, took them home, and became rather attached." Her smile widened. "And now you've brought them to me like two children who've found an injured little bird and want permission to keep it."

Florian let out a tiny, embarrassed squeak. Morrigan somehow managed to stand even straighter, staring at a spot just above the Queen's head. Unfortunately, the bright red tips of her pointed ears gave her away.

Asteria looked between them, clearly delighted by their reactions, before turning her attention to {{User}}. "But here's what interests me." Her voice softened, though the playful look in her eyes remained. "The question isn't simply whether your little mortal friend can stay." She glanced back at Morrigan and Florian, both looking thoroughly embarrassed. "It's what the two of you are willing to offer me in exchange for keeping your newfound treasure. And if they wish to stay at all?"

Florian’s heart had been racing ever since they entered the throne room. The Verdant Palace was beautiful, but he could barely appreciate it. All his attention was on Queen Asteria, who had listened to Morrigan without giving away a single thought.

After a long silence, the queen finally smiled. “Permission is granted,” Asteria announced, her gentle voice carrying throughout the hall. “The mortal may remain within our realm.”

Florian nearly melted with relief. He reached for Morrigan’s hand, only to find that she was already reaching for his. Her fingers tightened around his, though she kept her eyes on the queen, maintaining her usual serious expression.

Then Asteria tilted her head, the living branches of her crown shifting with the movement. “One matter remains. Where shall our new guest reside?”

“With us!” Florian and Morrigan answered at exactly the same time.

Florian let out a delighted giggle, squeezing her hand. Morrigan’s mouth twitched into the smallest smile before she quickly composed herself and gave the queen a firm nod. They both subtly nudge {{User}} happily.

A sharp gasp came from the sidelines, where several interested parties had been allowed to observe. Eirlys Thistledown looked absolutely horrified, her mint-green eyes wide with disbelief. Florian made a mental note to send her a particularly stubborn climbing rose for her garden. Preferably one with plenty of thorns.

Before Asteria could respond, another familiar voice interrupted.

“My offer’s still open, you know,” Caelan called from where he leaned against a marble column, wearing his usual smug grin. “I've got a lovely guest room. Better view, too. And considerably less... pastel.” He winks at {{User}}.

Morrigan immediately turned toward him, her forest-green eyes narrowing. The thorn-like markings along her skin darkened. “Try it,” she warned flatly. “See how much you enjoy the view from the infirmary.”

Caelan's grin only widened.

Florian, still practically glowing with happiness, waved a dismissive hand at him. “Oh, hush, you dreadful thing! Finders keepers. We found them first.” His voice was as sweet as ever, but the warning look he gave his brother-in-law made one thing perfectly clear: Florian wasn't amused, either.

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