I'm sure you would be happy

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The trickster's pass had grown more familiar to Quicksilver in recent weeks. He had spent many a day picking his way through the mountain maze, searching and studying, marking his path each time to better find his way home. On that particular day, however, with a rare bout of confidence, the silverwhite dared to venture further and not bother leaving a metaphorical trail of breadcrumbs.

He was nervous, naturally, of losing his way and never being able to find his way back to Vanderfell's summit, but as the hours of exploration passed he felt glad to have been able to lose himself for a while.

At least, until he came face-to-face with a familiar snowflower.

Reiko seemed to be in a hurry as she rounded a bend and appeared before him, the sight of her bringing Quicksilver to an abrupt halt. He blinked down at her, surprise and dread and a myriad of other complex emotions all tangling together in the pit of his belly.

“Rei-” his voice wavered, uncertain, as each ear splayed backward. In remembering the last thing he'd foolishly told her, the druid promptly closed his mouth with a clack of fangs; what was she even doing there, so far from her frozen palace?

Because never in a million years would she have come all this way for him.

---

+1 discovery

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She shrunk, as though afraid, and the druid drew away. His heart skipped an uncomfortable beat to see the snowflower wither in such a manner, void of all the brightness and bubbling enthusiasm that'd so easily drawn him to her in the first place. Did I do this to you? Quicksilver mused as Reiko slunk around him, his own body shifting to follow her movements with concern in his powder blue gaze - even as he backed off to place a more comfortable distance between them both.

She glanced away, but he did not - not immediately. He held her face in his stare, taking in the contours of fine features that he hadn't expected to see ever again. His heart lurched in its eagerness to be close and he gritted his teeth to bite back words he knew he'd regret, and lashed his tail nervously between hocks that threatenedto tremble.

In the awkward silence that hung thickly around them, Quicksilver looked first over his shoulder for any suggestion that Reiko had company in pursuit of her. With no sign of her samurai from Ira and Hieronymous' wedding ceremony, his eyes sought hers again with heightened confusion. She stammered and he swallowed, unsure how to handle himself, so could do little more than offer a simple “hey.”


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She told him he looked well, and Quicksilver pursed his lips as he considered how best to respond. I'm not, would've been the most honest answer, but he knew to admit that so bluntly would do nothing to help him patch the shattered pieces of his fragile heart. Reiko's rejection of his sweet confession had burned him in ways he wasn't sure even could heal from and, despite the suffering that'd followed, the druid continued to remind himself that it was not entirely her fault.

It wasn't anybody's fault.

Oh, how he'd longed for her to return his affections. In the days that followed his admission of love, Quicksilver had picked his way along Vanderfell outskirts and beyond with the unrealistic hope that she'd realise how strongly she felt for him, too. He'd howl mournfully in the night, longing for her to hear his very public cries and will her to seek him out. With each new day he would lose piece after piece of who he was. Quicksilver had let Reiko's rejection consume him until he began to waste away, but as those days turned to weeks the pain had begun to lessen.

His world had revolved around the snowflower for so long that he hadn't realised how terribly lonely loving her had made him feel.

“Do you...” his mouth felt dry, suddenly, as he fumbled with words, “is that...” Quicksilver swallowed the lump that swelled in his gullet, cleared the tension in his throat with a rough cough, “is that what you came here to talk about?”


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His sterling ears cupped forward, eager for the snowflower to respond, but when it came he felt only disappointment. They flicked backward again and his expression faltered, pale blue eyes cast aside as he turned his face away. Embarrassment warmed his cheeks, and the awkwardness of this very unexpected encounter bore so heavily on him that he considered turning away then and there.

But he couldn't walk away from Reiko, not even when he wanted to. Not in the same way she'd turned away from him.

So he listened, even though what she had to say wasn't what he wanted to hear. "I choose you," some small and desperate part of the silverwhite longed to hear her say, to which he would welcome her with open arms. He would embrace her as he'd wished to since fate willed their paths to cross...

“I...” he chanced a glance toward her. I can't help you with that, Reiko.

Quicksilver chose to remain quiet, and that silencelingered for a long and wavering moment as he contemplated the right thing to say. Was their such a thing? He'd already concluded that their friendship would not survive the confession he gave, long before he'd made up his mind to be truthful with her. He'd made peace with that realisation, and to have her return and place him so firmly in the friendzone once again felt like a great sucker punch to his gut.

“I don't understand,” he told her, knowing that this was the safe thing to say.


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Made all the more puzzled by her confession that she too did not understand, Quicksilver wallowed in confusion and self-pity. Why, he mused, do I do this to myself? There, in that moment, he had agency - he could choose to walk away or to feel the hurt. Why do I choose to hurt?

He thought briefly to all those he had ever loved: the faces he could remember only faintly but enough to know that they'd been important to him. He considered all the wolves he'd let close enough to claim some small part of him.

His mind lingered on Reiko, who'd come along and taken what precious little he had left.

The dove went on to tell him she wished he'd spoken sooner of his love, and he remembered her mention of that when at last he had. How could she have expected it to be that simple? His words were not made of magic and he firmly believed that there was not a single thing in the world he could've said to prompt the type of affection he craved from her. Quicksilver longed only for what was real - a spark lit not by sweet nothings.

Was she telling him that she did feel something? Confusion swam in the druid's eyes and his brow furrowed, hope and frustration and sorrow and everything all at once tightening the grip around his fragile heart.

“I would've fought the world for our love, Reiko,” he said softly, “but I... I will not fight you to love me.”


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There had been so many things preventing Quicksilver from sharing his feelings with her. It'd been early days when first he realised how strongly his heart beat for Reiko, the pair of them only newly acquainted. He'd been a stranger not only to her, but to himself. And he was so certain she'd already been mated! To stand before her that day and admit how he could think of no one else, on the mountain where the coloured flags swayed in the wind...

He hadn't been ready. It didn't feel right.

And on that most vulnerable night when at last he spoke of how fiercely he loved her, she had told him how she was "terribly sorry". Quicksilver remembered the rejection vividly, would never forget how it tore viciously at his soul. How he had suffered for it through every waking hour since. Why now did the dove come to him as he tried so hard to mend himself, swaying him with confused professions of a tentative fondness when he'd so craved it long before?

When she'd already vowed herself to another?

Some tiny part of him was thrilled to hear it, urged him to sweep forward and invite her close. He wanted to fit her brow to the hollow of his throat and hold her tight, pepper a kiss to the feathered base of a Winterwhite lobe, tell her that everything would be okay. He had imagined that embrace for so long, but all his broken pieces screamed resistance, rooted his paws to the ground beneath them.

It pained him to see her so torn, so conflicted, and know that it was his doing. She had not reached for him on Vanderfell, when he sat and fought with every fibre of his being to stay afloat. Quicksilver believed she hadn't tried to comfort him then because there was no feeling in her for him, nothing that she could return. He was not worth the consideration, the thought, the effort.

“If it...” his voice hitched, made thick by emotion, “if it feels wrong to love me, then-” then you don't “then you should not.”

He deserved better than that. For how long could he go on dragging his body through this yawning, yearning world in search of a glimpse of what could've been? His powder blue eyes, glistening with the threat of overflowing emotion, sought her own solemn blue gaze. Oh, how unfair it was - to him, to her, to the man she'd chosen before! Guilt reared up like a great wave within him.

And what of Izumi, he wondered? The memory of her smile nudged its way unexpectedly into his mind's eye. The crane had supported him in ways that he knew he'd never be able to thank her for, ways she likely didn't even realise. With her he'd begun to feel something new, something cautious - void of the raw, unbridled passion he felt for Reiko, but... something. Whatever that was, his experience made him afraid to explore the potential of it. Quicksilver released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

Recent days had been kinder to him, thanks to Izumi, and in that moment - in the safety of his own mind - the druid recognised how it was surely the budding of new and very different love that'd come to bear the loss of what he'd held before.


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She, too, had nothing left to say. Quicksilver felt nausea plague his belly and dread settle heavily in his gut. The sudden desire to chuck his stomach contents paled him and he swayed on the spot, staggered, and swiftly steadied himself to keep from dropping to his knees.

Light-headed, the world around him swam and for a beat he thought he might even pass out. Reiko's solemn expression blurred, but he could see how her lovely eyes glimmered with the threat of tears. He inhaled sharply, tasted the scent of lavender and frost that now troubled him so, and at last he braved a step forward.

Don't cry, he willed himself to say, but the plea clung to his mouth like cotton, I'm sorry.

The sniwflower turned away and he stumbled uselessly after her, alabaster paws like a lead weight, and he called out, “Reiko, wait!”

Please...


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He saw the tension that wrought its way into the small of her back, the way in which she hunched her shoulders against the world. He felt it too - the anxiety, the fear, the bitterness, the shattering of what he might have left of himself. With a muscle tightening in his jaw he dared to step in close alongside the snowflower, moved to brush platinum furs against feathered snow white. Despite all that'd transpired between them and all that'd driven them apart, Quicksilver was not some monster who would leave her to crumble.

He'd tried to resent her for the unrequited love. It would've been easier to turn blame on her, to accuse her of never caring for him as a friend. But to do so would've gone against all the good in the world that he wanted to believe in; there was not a bad bone in his body.

He loved her. Wholly, completely, endlessly! Why couldn't she have seen that!? Just as he tried and tried and tried to let go, just as he began to entertain the idea of exploring affection with someone else, she turned up unannounced on his doorstep to tell him that she loved him back but didn't want to!? And she had the audacity to stand there and tell him she didn't know what he wanted?

Frustration rose within him at the bluntness of her words, and it terrified him. A more appropriate question would've been what did she want from him? “For so long I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid. I was afraid you'd think I was crazy! That I was a fool in love with a girl I just met. I tried,” he answered, “and my last attempt to, when I followed you to Tsukiishi, it... it nearly killed me.”

He maneouvered around her, urging her to lift her gaze and look at him, to see the scars and the sorrow he bore because his whole world had revolved around her and her alone. His obsession with her was unhealthy, he could see that now. “I'm sorry, for the poor timing and the inconvenience, and for hurting you, but I couldn't tiptoe around the truth anymore. I couldn't keep lying to myself, lying to you, and... and pretending to be happy for you being with someone else when-”

when I wanted you to choose me instead.

Quicksilver cut himself short, knowing how selfish he sounded, knowing that all the pleading and arguing and screaming into the wind would do neither of them any good. He inhaled shakily, and tentatively reached to try and caress the silken furs of her cheek with the delicate touch of his nose.

“If this is to be my heartache, Reiko,” he whispered for her, “then let it be mine to endure.”


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The floodgates opened and hot tears tumbled from her azure eyes, streaking down each pallid cheek. With a soft whine Quicksilver dared to lap at the dampness of her fur and tasted the salt of her sorrow, her... regret? He swallowed, aware of the nausea that began to creep its way into his esophagus once more, and he closed his eyes to try still the relentless whirlwind of emotion that rattled in his head.

She spoke negatively of herself, dubbed herself "vile" and he didn't understand. It wasn't Reiko's fault that she'd picked someone else, it wasn't her fault that her rejection had pained him so terribly. It wasn't anyone's fault that that these feelings had come so intensely and so suddenly.

For so long, Quicksilver had wanted to give her the world. He'd wanted to vow to her and her alone, show her the beauty of his love. He still could, he felt, but... it wouldn't be the same. They both knew they could never truly recover what was lost, that they would only keep losing more of themselves in the process.

He could do nothing but hold her. The silverwhite draped a slender forelimb over Reiko's fine shoulders and pulled her in close, let her sink into the comfort of an embrace that they would unlikely ever experience again. Quicksilver pushed his muzzle among the tresses of the snowflower's nape and drank deep her scent, eager to prolong the moment for as long as she would allow.

How could he trust her, she wondered out loud, and he didn't have an answer. Things had been made too complicated for him to know.

“Do you...” he stalled, fearful of her answer, but he had to know - “do you love him?”


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When she let herself relax, Quicksilver released his hold of her. The silverwhite drew back a little, eager to look upon her face again and assure himself that she was alright. His proximity, he felt, would not help either of them, so he placed an appropriate distance between them following her vague answer to his question.

Reiko was conflicted, clearly. Torn between him and the dark, handsome samurai who'd accompanied her to Ira and Hiero's wedding - the first to admit his love for her. The druid felt sick as he recalled the memory of how the snowflower smiled for Tobias that evening and how she looked at him, half-lidded, in a way he'd wished she would regard him. He sat in silence as his stomach churned, hating that his own confession had been enough to make her question whatever affection she'd nurtured for the third corner of this awkward and messy triangle.

Square, rather, if he were to include Izumi in the chaos of his love life. A new type of anxiety pulled his pastel gaze downward as he thought guiltily of the crane and the fondness he'd come to feel for her. Izumi had been so kind to him, so gentle and so patient; he couldn't bear to drag her under the current of his misery, but he wanted to be honest with her, too.

“I think...” that you deserve the type of love you don't need to question, “that you need to decide what it is that you want.”

Not him, not Tobias, not a single other soul on the planet.

Her.

His smile was sad and his powder gaze hollow as he looked up to seek the pallid she-wolf's features again. Quicksilver, too, had some soul searching to carry out - and he was dreading it.

Reiko's mention of Ira came as a surprise, and the sterling medic promptly closed his mouth. His leader had been the first, the only wolf he'd entrusted with knowledge of the delicate feelings harboured for the little Empress. As far as he knew the information had been safe with her and had not passed her lips to the ears of any other; he trusted her. But why did it matter to Reiko what she thought of their predicament? Perhaps they were closer than he realised.

Quicksilver would not dare speak of that day when his Queen had come to retrieve him. It had been a private conversation that Reiko didn't need to k ow of, one made by a desperate man with conflicted feelings. He'd heeded Ira's advice to make peace with his decision for as long as he'd been able, but...

Things never really went to plan, did they?

“I'm not sure,” he lied, and it tasted bitter on his tongue. He sighed, having been made exhausted by this very unexpected and stressful discussion, and he lingered with wavering uncertainty over where they were supposed to go from there.


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He didn't know what to expect from Reiko as she sat there, body hunched to appear smaller than usual and fumbling with her words. All of the joy and enthusiasm seemed to have been drained from her, so much that only the shell remained. He looked quietly upon her, unnerved by her drastic change in demeanour and guilty in knowing that he alone was responsible for such uncertainty.

"I would like you."

His tongue felt fat in his mouth, and with a sharp inhale of surprise he pushed it firm to the space between his upper molars. For how many months had he longed for those words from Reiko's maw? Enough to bring him to ruin. All those precious little moments spent with her flashed to life in his mind, and all the heartache to accompany them. It was Quicksilver's turn to face the weight of his conflict then, and he steeled against the impact with eyes squeezed shut and fangs gritted as the wave came hurtling right fir him.

When he opened his gaze, he saw her peek shyly - fearfully - up into his face. For a long, painful pause he could do little but stare right back.

“No,” he told her, not unkindly, as he gathered to his paws. This was too much, too soon, too late! “I don't-”

This decision was not one she could make on the spot. She could regret the wasted opportunity with Tobias, resent him for swaying her decision. He wasn't ready or willing to shoulder that blame! “A few minutes ago, you said it felt wrong to care about me.” He lashed his tail, limbs shaking beneath the intensity of his overwhelming emotion, and he fought the desire to reach out and press his lips to her brow. “Please, just...” go home, Reiko, go and be happy, forget that I exist- “you need to have this conversation with... with him.”


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His turn, now, to reject her - but there was no satisfaction in him to do so. Quicksilver could see how it rocked the snowflower, how she looked at him with a sorrow comparable to his own and still force a smile. It tugged at the corner of her maw but didn't quite reach her eyes, still glistening from earlier tears or the suggestion of more to come.

He didn't know. He didn't know what to do, but guilt pressed firmly on already bowed shoulders. Everything within him screamed, urged him to reach for her again, to hold her close so that she may hear the shattering of his already bruised, broken heart and know that she was not alone.

Reiko did not stay long enough for the druid to find his confidence, as she withdrew entirely. She veered away to depart wordlessly, defeat in her stride, and for a long and painful moment he willed himself to go. Go after her! Quicksilver whined, stumbled forward a few steps, her name lost to the breeze.

But she did not answer. She did not look back.

He stopped, feeling the prick of emotion in his own eyes and, as she disappeared into the maze with the dimming light of a setting sun at her back, his voice rose mournfully into the evening - a low howl meant just for her, a smoky apology.

If this is to be my heartache, his breath hitched as he sank to his haunches and hung his head, then let it be mine to endure.

Permit me to feel it in its entirety.

Don't tell me how much of you I am allowed to love.


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