Faun Fic for Kuruk
For Kuruk as fic exchange
Title: Another Make-Believe Game
Fandom: El laberinto del fauno
Characters: The Faun, Ofelia
Summary: It was just another game in the labyrinth.
Note: For kuruk22. A fic exchange. Sorry it's not beta'd.
In the labyrinth, the wind whispered one of the many names of the aged faun. It was from the wing beats of insectoid fairies.
A girl had arrived, the wind told him.
And indeed it was a female child of humanfolk, old enough to have heard of fairy tales and young enough to believe in them. She was a pretty one, her flesh soft and her heartbeat regular. It reminded the faun of old times when there were more of them, when human heartstrings were pulled out and made into viola and fauns and fairies alike danced to the music of heartscreams.
The faun woke from his sleep. His eyes were still blind from age, but he was able to move, to detach its body from the stones and wild ivies.
He made up yet another beautiful lie for the pretty visitor. He told her that she was a princess, the daughter of the moon and the king of Underworld, and in a way it wasn't lying because in a sense all children were of the moon and the world below reality. He presented himself as a faun, careful to not tell his true name, as to not give the power over him to the little human girl. He merely told her that he had many names, old names that only the wind and the trees could pronounce, and that he was a faun, her humble servant.
It was as informative as a man presenting himself to another man as "just a man," but the girl bought it.
He left the girl return home for the night, knowing that he would have her one day. Her steps in the labyrinth powered him, her belief giving him life. His magic was returning. Soon he would be as a minor god and this old body would be young as a fawn and strong as a hart.
The faun caught a bird in its sleep. Because he was in a good mood, its heart tasted almost as good as a human child's.
The first trial he gave her was to revive a tree. An adult would question how exactly killing a toad and getting a key can revive a tree, but a girl living in a fairy tale asked no such questions. She succeeded in the task.
With the toad dead, the faun reclaimed the tree as his territory. It would live and bloom again. He was pleased.
He even gave the little girl a mandrake root. He was a faun, he knew where these still lived. No many of them were left. The girl would be grateful, and his power would increase again. He was right; she believed strongly that it worked. Little did she know that mandrake was like a herb to the fair folk, something to add flavour to their humans. He gave the girl a magic chalk and entrusted his pet insects to her.
The second trial was to go past the Pale Man and get a dagger with the key from the toad. She got the dagger. It cost them the life of two insects. The faun was outraged. Why couldn't she follow the advices? Nearly all humans he had dealt with strayed from what they agreed on at one point or another. It was in human's nature that they could not be trusted, yet every single time he trusted and regretted.
He left the girl, unwilling to lose more. Two insects for a tree and a dagger. Two less beings to whisper his many names. He closed his eyes. The wind and the earth were still calling his many names. The older trees did the same. The newer trees only whispered the names they knew and already the faun's names were not in their murmurs.
When no one was left to call the faun's names, he would die. He remembered his joyous friends, dancing and singing all day long before time washed them away. His friends used to guide lost humans to safety. He didn't. He knew they were resource. In a way, he thought more like a man than faun, which was why he lived longer than his careless friends.
He missed them. The young idiots. Gone before they could even grow old. And no one remembered their names, not even in fairy tales or nursery rhymes.
He didn't want to die. Not like them.
The faun returned to the girl to give her a final task: bring her brother to the labyrinth. The blood from a perfectly innocent child, spiced with the magic from the mandrake root, would surely revitalise the labyrinth and himself for many years to come. It would be a nice compensation for his loss.
Moanna, no, Ofelia did bring her baby brother. Despite the nature of her stepfather. Brave little girl. A distant cousin of his once challenged a god. He was flayed alive. This girl's fate would be no better once she was caught. The faun had heard tales of the captain. He was a ruthless man, the kind of man that killed magic. The laws of the fair folk might be evil, but the man's was cruel. Not even a beast would fall as low as a man might fall, that was to reduce itself to an instrument that served no one and no purpose except that of being, a mere machine that obeyed a set of rules, but asked neither questions nor answers despite having the faculties. Even the Pale Man was better than him. But his child was innocent. All children were. A newborn was near blank, the closest to purity in mind.
And his blood, properly spiced, must be most potent.
The girl and her brother arrived with a little help. Moving trees was as easy as moving his own limbs, for the precise reason that all trees on his territory were his limbs, in more than one way. There she was, standing before him, her baby brother in her arms. Behind her were the screams of her monstrous stepfather. She had hope in her eyes. And trust. Poor girl, she must have thought that she could escape to the Underworld with her brother, away from her harsh life.
The faun held out his arms to receive the sacrifice. The dagger Moanna had retrieved was in one of his hands. She looked at it and at the open hand. Then it dawned on her what he must have wanted. She took a step back and held the baby protectively, an act that was almost maternal instinct.
"It's just a little blood." The faun mimed drawing blood from fingers with the tip of the dagger. "It won't even hurt."
Yet the girl still refused, shaking her head with determination.
The steps of the stepfather drew closer. He had almost solved the labyrinth. After all, unlike a maze, in a labyrinth one could never be lost as long as one followed one road to the end. It was why there must be a monster inside. Because there was only one road in a labyrinth, then inevitably the man and the monster will meet. Men were not sent to a labyrinth to be trapped, they were sent in to be killed.
Just like this little girl. But the monster was not the faun.
The faun retreated. He knew he would not get the blood he wanted, for the monster was close.
A gunshot. Princess Moanna had died again. How many little girls had died in this labyrinth, next to the altar that was described as a gate to Underworld in their make-believe games? The faun had lost count. The monster was carrying his trophy away.
Another gunshot. This time near the exit to the labyrinth. The monster fell.
The game had ended. Again.
Title: Another Make-Believe Game
Fandom: El laberinto del fauno
Characters: The Faun, Ofelia
Summary: It was just another game in the labyrinth.
Note: For kuruk22. A fic exchange. Sorry it's not beta'd.
In the labyrinth, the wind whispered one of the many names of the aged faun. It was from the wing beats of insectoid fairies.
A girl had arrived, the wind told him.
And indeed it was a female child of humanfolk, old enough to have heard of fairy tales and young enough to believe in them. She was a pretty one, her flesh soft and her heartbeat regular. It reminded the faun of old times when there were more of them, when human heartstrings were pulled out and made into viola and fauns and fairies alike danced to the music of heartscreams.
The faun woke from his sleep. His eyes were still blind from age, but he was able to move, to detach its body from the stones and wild ivies.
He made up yet another beautiful lie for the pretty visitor. He told her that she was a princess, the daughter of the moon and the king of Underworld, and in a way it wasn't lying because in a sense all children were of the moon and the world below reality. He presented himself as a faun, careful to not tell his true name, as to not give the power over him to the little human girl. He merely told her that he had many names, old names that only the wind and the trees could pronounce, and that he was a faun, her humble servant.
It was as informative as a man presenting himself to another man as "just a man," but the girl bought it.
He left the girl return home for the night, knowing that he would have her one day. Her steps in the labyrinth powered him, her belief giving him life. His magic was returning. Soon he would be as a minor god and this old body would be young as a fawn and strong as a hart.
The faun caught a bird in its sleep. Because he was in a good mood, its heart tasted almost as good as a human child's.
The first trial he gave her was to revive a tree. An adult would question how exactly killing a toad and getting a key can revive a tree, but a girl living in a fairy tale asked no such questions. She succeeded in the task.
With the toad dead, the faun reclaimed the tree as his territory. It would live and bloom again. He was pleased.
He even gave the little girl a mandrake root. He was a faun, he knew where these still lived. No many of them were left. The girl would be grateful, and his power would increase again. He was right; she believed strongly that it worked. Little did she know that mandrake was like a herb to the fair folk, something to add flavour to their humans. He gave the girl a magic chalk and entrusted his pet insects to her.
The second trial was to go past the Pale Man and get a dagger with the key from the toad. She got the dagger. It cost them the life of two insects. The faun was outraged. Why couldn't she follow the advices? Nearly all humans he had dealt with strayed from what they agreed on at one point or another. It was in human's nature that they could not be trusted, yet every single time he trusted and regretted.
He left the girl, unwilling to lose more. Two insects for a tree and a dagger. Two less beings to whisper his many names. He closed his eyes. The wind and the earth were still calling his many names. The older trees did the same. The newer trees only whispered the names they knew and already the faun's names were not in their murmurs.
When no one was left to call the faun's names, he would die. He remembered his joyous friends, dancing and singing all day long before time washed them away. His friends used to guide lost humans to safety. He didn't. He knew they were resource. In a way, he thought more like a man than faun, which was why he lived longer than his careless friends.
He missed them. The young idiots. Gone before they could even grow old. And no one remembered their names, not even in fairy tales or nursery rhymes.
He didn't want to die. Not like them.
The faun returned to the girl to give her a final task: bring her brother to the labyrinth. The blood from a perfectly innocent child, spiced with the magic from the mandrake root, would surely revitalise the labyrinth and himself for many years to come. It would be a nice compensation for his loss.
Moanna, no, Ofelia did bring her baby brother. Despite the nature of her stepfather. Brave little girl. A distant cousin of his once challenged a god. He was flayed alive. This girl's fate would be no better once she was caught. The faun had heard tales of the captain. He was a ruthless man, the kind of man that killed magic. The laws of the fair folk might be evil, but the man's was cruel. Not even a beast would fall as low as a man might fall, that was to reduce itself to an instrument that served no one and no purpose except that of being, a mere machine that obeyed a set of rules, but asked neither questions nor answers despite having the faculties. Even the Pale Man was better than him. But his child was innocent. All children were. A newborn was near blank, the closest to purity in mind.
And his blood, properly spiced, must be most potent.
The girl and her brother arrived with a little help. Moving trees was as easy as moving his own limbs, for the precise reason that all trees on his territory were his limbs, in more than one way. There she was, standing before him, her baby brother in her arms. Behind her were the screams of her monstrous stepfather. She had hope in her eyes. And trust. Poor girl, she must have thought that she could escape to the Underworld with her brother, away from her harsh life.
The faun held out his arms to receive the sacrifice. The dagger Moanna had retrieved was in one of his hands. She looked at it and at the open hand. Then it dawned on her what he must have wanted. She took a step back and held the baby protectively, an act that was almost maternal instinct.
"It's just a little blood." The faun mimed drawing blood from fingers with the tip of the dagger. "It won't even hurt."
Yet the girl still refused, shaking her head with determination.
The steps of the stepfather drew closer. He had almost solved the labyrinth. After all, unlike a maze, in a labyrinth one could never be lost as long as one followed one road to the end. It was why there must be a monster inside. Because there was only one road in a labyrinth, then inevitably the man and the monster will meet. Men were not sent to a labyrinth to be trapped, they were sent in to be killed.
Just like this little girl. But the monster was not the faun.
The faun retreated. He knew he would not get the blood he wanted, for the monster was close.
A gunshot. Princess Moanna had died again. How many little girls had died in this labyrinth, next to the altar that was described as a gate to Underworld in their make-believe games? The faun had lost count. The monster was carrying his trophy away.
Another gunshot. This time near the exit to the labyrinth. The monster fell.
The game had ended. Again.