"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Mazikeen returns to Hyaline on a grey afternoon, the day after she gives birth. She’d taken her time, lingering in Tephra and then resting as much as she could without delaying more. Though she is occasionally away from Hyaline for a few days at a time, she is wary about stretching her luck. On the trip back she does not waste energy flying and takes every chance she gets to bathe in winter-chilled waters to try to get the scent of the jungle kingdom off of her coat and mudding herself with spring damp soil in other lands. Taiga and Sylva and the forest, even the mountains that surround her home.
She hates this deception, and part of her wonders if it’s even worth it - but she has some of the instincts of a hunter and she is trying to lessen the chance that the Curse will be able to find them. She even tries to keep just the first image of the twins in her mind - that nondescript thicket where they had been born. Mazikeen has had her sight affected by Gale’s powers, he had used it to share the memory of the sun with her once, and she worries that he’ll be able to take memories from her the same way.
No, she’s not worried about Gale - she’s worried about the Curse doing that. She holds them both separately in her mind. She has to. And she thinks all this makes her prepared for what today will bring.
The sky is a hazy grey and there is some late snow falling around her as she arrives. Though she had crossed the mountains as a snow leopard she shifts back into herself now - no wings to conceal her sides or those healed puncture wounds, just her curved horns as decorations. Her natural self, as if this was just any other day. As if her heart wasn’t already racing at the prospect of what was to come. Fear and anticipation - she’s looking forward to ruining the Curse’s day.
She had a plan but, despite that anticipation, she knows this part isn’t going to be easy, and it will very likely turn ugly quick. It hasn’t occurred to her yet to skip over this and just go to the next part of her plan - she has not yet realized that could probably save both her and Gale some pain. Mazikeen had it in her head that she didn’t want to be gone for too long, didn’t want to raise suspicions, and she feels approximately one mountain’s weight lighter so she assumes it will be easy to tell that her condition has changed.
Mazikeen is feeling that blazing determination when she returns to her home, she feels as sure in her plan as she’s able to. She thinks about how even though it had been so dumb to make her promise when they barely knew each other, when she hadn't known anything about the Curse or what to expect, she’d do it again if given the choice. Gale wouldn’t want her to, so she’d be safe, but she’d go through it all again to have him and she’ll go through more to keep him.
And with that thought to fuel her determination a little more - there’s little point in delaying what’s to come. So pretending this is just any other day she does what she would’ve done if this was just any other trip outside of Hyaline - she goes to find Gale.
Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you
Much of Gale’s memory is hazy these days. His nights are black, and his mornings scattered with dreams. Every now and again he wakes - like this - in the dawn light with no clear recollection of how he had come to be there when he’d fallen asleep days ago and miles away.
He has lost track of the days, and knows that time passes only because Mazikeen grows ever more like the full moon each time he catches a glimpse of her. Those days are rare, and growing ever fewer. He does not know what the Curse does with its nights, but Gale grows more exhausted with every dawn. His self-healing has grown stronger as the winter passes, but he knows the Curse must use it frequently during the dark hours, because the fire of the magic feels barely more than a flicker in his chest during the day.
The stallion does not grow thin or waste away with this illness, and that feels the strangest on afternoons like these, when he wakes without an ache in his head or weariness in his bones. Gale feels like his old self. Better than his old self, even, for his nights have left him fit and well-muscled, and littered his sleek navy hide with ever more streaks of pale cream of perfectly and immediately healed wounds.
Recalling previous attempts to use his gifts on such pleasant afternoons, Gale does not wear his shapeshifted wings and makes no effort to dim the bright glow of his markings. They stand out on this overcast afternoon, and Gale looks up at the spring clouds that promise a grey and rainy evening.
He smiles, having been instilled with an eternal love for rain by his childhood in the desert, and that smiles grows when he sees Mazikeen. She is coming toward him through the birch trees, a vision in white and black and glowing orange, visible only in stripes and lines in a way that delights visual Gale.
Most days she is little more than a pale spot in his blurred vision, but today she is clear and bright. Today she looks determined, and almost pleased with herself in a way that he finds bewitching, and he marvels once more at how kindly Fate had favored him. He marvels only briefly, because then she’s in front of him, and Gale is looking into her orange eyes.
“It’s a good day,” he tells her with an easy smile, reaching out to press his blue lips against her cheek. “Like the waterfall day.”
It doesn’t seem remotely fair that Gale grew more muscular, more handsome, over the winter while she had only grown into a whale. Even though she knew some of the activities that led to these changes in him, knew the Curse was building up his strength, she still takes a moment to admire him - to feel a thrill when he looks at her and when she sees that easy smile and how - despite everything - it coaxes one effortlessly from her.
Today was a good day.
Shit is her first, eloquent thought.
He was having a good day and she was here to ruin it. Mazikeen had spent every day since the waterfall day coming up with her plans, letting them solidify inside her mind. Inspired by his request that she keep the children safe (and herself but that part is not yet possible). Especially on those quiet days when she just laid beside him while he slept off the night’s activities, taking and providing the barest level of comfort. Just wanting to be near him, even if he had no idea she was there. None of her plans considered that Gale might be having a good day when she returned, she just sort of expected that the Curse would sense the absence of the children and they’d launch right into it.
This is worse, this is harder.
Mazikeen knows the happiness is going to break, that she will be the one to shatter it, so for now she leans into the touch on her cheek and then moves closer, embracing him. “I've become very fond of waterfalls since that day.” She replies softly, in a voice that doesn't feel quite real to her. Her muzzle brushes against his skin, the glowing markings and scars there so bright on this overcast day, as she presses her body into his. “I’m going to give you more good days, Gale. One day we’ll wake up and the curse will only be a nightmare, a memory.” It’s so easy to make more promises, so easy to have her hope fuel that dream. She inhales deeply and plays with the spinal mane that their daughter inherited. “What would you like to do today?” She asks because it is a good day and this is what she would say if it actually were going to stay that way.
Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you
She leans into his embrace, and Gale buries his face in the long strands of her black and white mane. Many of his dreams are nightmares, and the reassurance of having her beside him immediately soothes a great many of his worries. She smells good, like melting snow and fertile earth.
He has trouble pinpointing the other scents - trees of many types? What had she been doing in Taiga?
The bits of the Curse that remember Taiga stirs, then resettles as Gale thinks instead of the waterfall and more good days, and the way she fits against him and pulls gently at his mane. Gale does the same, sliding his blue nose down the slope of her withers and then behind her shoulder. No wings today, he sees, and then falls still.
His briefly altered vision confirms it; she is no longer pregnant.
Is it spring already? Had time passed so swiftly?
Gale looks up at the trees, and yes: there are buds at the tips of the branches, new growth that is weeks away from blossoming still. Spring, but barely so. Certainly not late spring.
Gale blinks, and when he reopens his eyes he is not himself at all.
“Maze?” says the Curse, using Gale’s hesitant voice. The uncertainty remains, its tones measured in perfect imitation of the brindle horse. “Did I...did I miss them being born?”
Mazikeen’s eyes close as Gale’s touch moves across her skin, and she’s just telling herself that it’s okay to enjoy this brief moment of happiness when he falls still. Her eyes flash open again and she stays still too, waiting for the question - her heart already racing. There is a brief regret that if she had worn her wings they could have stretched this interlude out longer but she shoves it aside and finds the resolve that had been bright within her moments ago.
His voice sounds uncertain instead of angry, her nickname used instead of her full one. Simple, small signs that makes her believe the switch has not been made yet (forgetting, for the moment, how perfectly the Curse had imitated Gale the last time because she wants to believe it's him). But surely it will come, won’t it? She kisses him softly on the neck and tenderly tugs his mane once more before she takes a few steps backwards - so that she can watch his eyes. Watch for those all-black pupils and any warning sign she can get.
She hates this feeling, hates moving away from him.
The fear and uncertainty and anticipation are back and she wonders if he can hear how loud her pulse is roaring in her ears as she stands on the edge of this cliff and waits for the consequences of her actions.
And then she answers, her voice a practiced calm. “Yes, you did.”
Even though she still believes this to be Gale, even though she wants so badly to tell him about his children she remains vague because she does not know if the Curse is listening. The less it knows, the better. Right?
Her next words were meant to be calm too but the churning emotions in her crack into her voice and burn in her eyes as she watches him. “I’m sorry, Gale.” These words are both true and false. She is so sorry that he won’t get to meet them, not yet. Mazikeen believes Gale would - will - be such a good father and she has taken that away for now, and she is sorry for that too. She is not sorry for what she’s done. She is not sorry for protecting their children before herself.
Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you
Gale is somewhere in the darkness, at the heart of a maze that runs through his mind. He is very far away from Mazikeen and the conversation she is having with him. The focus it takes to keep himself from falling apart entirely allows for thoughts of nothing else.
The Curse presses Gale’s lips to Mazikeen’s cheek a final time as she pulls away.
She’s hidden the twins, it realizes. She’s not kept up her part of the deal. It digs sharp claws into Gale’s consciousness, allowing the sensation of him writhing helplessly to distract it from the rage. It’s effective, and the only expression that Gale’s face conveys is one of bewilderment.
The Curse already has Gale, it reminds itself. A suitable host. Not the best, not as good as the children might be. As Mazikeen is.
“I’m sorry,” she says. Not nearly as sorry as she will be, it thinks. She has surprised it for the last time, and the Curse has had enough. It will kill Maziken, and it will consume her heart and gain her shifting abilities.
It has not been watching her closely enough. It had been lazing through the days, not quite sleeping, but not paying nearly enough attention either. She is clever, perhaps more clever than the Curse.
It does have one advantage though, an advantage that it fully intends to utilize.
“Do you think I’ll ever get to meet them?” It asks. Gale does not sound hopeful, but it does ask. It knows Gale wouldn’t want Mazikeen to think he’s abandoned hope entirely, because the Curse within him knows Gale most intimately. It knows exactly what his responses would be, knows exactly how to say them, and is hopeful that Mazikeen might let her emotions blind her to danger.
She just needs to come a little closer, let it lean on her again for comfort. In this shape, she’s an easy target, especially if she is not at all suspicious.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” It continues, making Gale’s face full of regret and sadness and frustration. Meanwhile, it tells Gale that he’s missed the birth of his children, and cackles at his redoubled efforts to escape. The Curse flicks him away like it might stomp an ant, and meets Mazikeen’s eyes with a gaze that is identical to her beloved’s. “I’m sorry.”
Mazikeen’s entire body thrums with uncertainty, with the desire to go to Gale. To comfort him, to demand the comfort she knows she needs but won’t ever ask him for. But she remains where she is, no matter how much it hurts. No matter how badly she wants to bury her face in his neck and not have to see the look on his face anymore. Because this was part of her plan.
She reminds herself it would be dumb to get close. Even though she’s talking to Gale now, she doesn’t know how long that’s going to last. She can’t imagine that the Curse is particularly pleased right now, but the delayed response is making her anxious. Was it actually sleeping during the day? Was it even paying attention? Her mind feels like it’s going to start splitting - first showing up here, determined to get it over with, only for things to start shifting around on her.
Mazikeen shakes her head, orange eyes reflecting the regret she sees in his. “I’m sorry you weren’t either.” And she is, mostly. Even though that had been the point. She had still missed his presence so much during the labour, missed whatever comfort he might have given her. Missed sharing those first few moments with him, the start of their family.
The names of their children. The shine of those perfect, blue and orange eyes.
She takes a deep breath in and finally answers his question. “You’ll get to meet them.” And then fire takes over from the sadness and she looks at him with resolve - her glowing horns held high. “When I carve that curse out of you and we’re rid of it forever.”
Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you
It has overestimated her affection for Gale, the Curse decides. Or perhaps it has not done a good enough job at imitating the despondency that the brindled stallion would feel during such a conversation. Would Gale have been despondent?
The Curse cannot check; Gale has fallen into an unconscious blackness where even magic cannout rouse him.
Regardless of why, the white mare keeps her distance.
The Curse is not as adept a strategist as its host, and before it can reassemble something from its scrambled plans, Mazikeen is speaking again.
She looks at him with far too much confidence, and the Curse feels the sharp bite of frustration. It scowls, the expression marring Gale’s handsome face. Why is she proving so difficult to break?
“If you were ever to carve me out, I’d take Gale with me.” In those few words it is suddenly abundantly clear that whatever speaking is not the Gale that Mazikeen knows. The words are as chill as its tone, casual and coldly threatening.
It’ll be a fight, it decides, and the Curse hopes that its mastery of Gale’s body will be enough to defeat her.
“Will you tell me where you left the children?” It asks, raising Gale’s brows curiously. “Or will I have the pleasure of ripping it out of you?”
The scowl is her first clue and then the words that follow it confirms it. Light begins to flicker into existence on her back at the threat to Gale but her eyes gleam with a smile again - this time, one that lacks warmth and love. It is a triumphant ‘oh there you are’ smile. It is a scornful ‘I don’t believe you’ smile. Mazikeen and her plans, so sure is her faith in them and the idea that she will be successful. If not today than in the future. She is unwilling to entertain the idea that this is all that her story with Gale will be - she wants more for them both.
The change had come on smoother than she had expected but she doesn’t allow herself to wonder who she’s been talking to, who it was that ran Gale’s muzzle sweetly across her skin. She does not know when the change happened but it is easy to convince herself that it was just now, brought forth by her threat. Any other thoughts are a slippery slope that could cause everything she’s grown to love crumble.
More and more of those burning cracks form on her skin as Mazikeen stands here, heart racing with anticipation and anger and fear. They’re going to fight - and this isn’t going to be a wrestling scuffle that ends in something pleasant, not an alliance match with rules laid out. She knows it’s not going to end well for her, if only because Gale’s body will heal itself and hers will inevitably begin to falter.
She knows exactly how this day is going to end.
And of course, knowing that had not been enough to get her to stay away.
“You won’t take him from me. And you won’t have our children.” She shifts then, fast and fluid - becoming a bristling white direwolf, keeping her horns and changing them to a wickedly sharp version of those you’d see on a bull. The glowing markings nestled now amongst thick fur, making it seem like she’s glowing from within. Mazikeen does not move yet, but she speaks again - her voice goading and falsely sweet. “Which is such a shame, because they’re perfect.”
Gale this is going to break me clean in two -- this is going to bring me close to you
She smiles at it, and there is nothing more it wants than to rip the expression off her smug face.
In time, it soothes itself, in time. She will choose a shape to fight in, and it waits to see what that might be. Gale’s thoughtfulness has been an incredible boon; after their Alliance battle the brindle stallion had philosophized on possible attacks, keeping track of potential weaknesses and strengths. Their time in Hyaline has helped too, familiarity with Mazikeen and her preferences in a spar growing.
The Curse has done the same, trying to instill within her a false sense of familiarity with its abilities, but it has kept back its favorites, the one that Gale wouldn’t have ever used, because Gale is weak and fair and cares too much for Mazikeen.
She becomes a wolf.
A wolf far larger than any Gale could mimic, its fur thick and bristling, glowing with the same fiery orange light in her eyes.
It croons softly in reply, using Gale’s voice, sounding as sweet and sincere as when he confesses his love:“I’m going to kill you,” It will kill her, and consume her heart and thus her magic too. Just before it does, it will pluck the vision of the place she had left the children from her memory, hunt them down, and take the better one. Perhaps it might even split itself in two and take them both.
The prospect brings a wicked smile to Gale’s blue face, and then it lunges for her.
In an instant it becomes two blue leopards, one leaping to either side. Both are aiming for her throat with those outstretched claws and gleaming teeth, but only the one to her left is really Gale’s body. The other is the result of manipulated vision.
There’s a good chance those white wolf teeth might slice at him, but he’ll he healed before he hits the ground. Mazikeen hasn’t accepted that she will die this morning, but the Curse is very much looking forward to a second dawn, one in which she recognizes her fate and the futility of resistance.
