Fair Fell

Crowley's mother told him very little in ways of rules. There was practically no containing such a ball of energy, but he knew well enough his mother meant the few rules she gave.

Don't talk back (unless it's grave serious or she will whip him), don't be ungentlemanly at the table, and don't go into the woods alone. Don't go into the woods hungry. Don't go farther than a yard's length into the woods.

The rules always seemed silly to him but he listened to her. Until age 15, when his rebellious streak happened. The rebellious streak started with little things, like talking back quietly, or making crude jokes. Though he never did so around his mother. He was rebellious, not wanting a death sentence.

He entered the woods carefully, sitting down on a moss covered log stretching his legs. The ground was a beautiful shade of green. It was nice. He heard soft noises and stood up. The ground gave way a little, as it was slightly muddy. As he walked he found himself walking in further than he meant to. The noise slowly got clearer, a voice was humming a beautiful tune, and it got louder as he approached.

He looked to see a boy, around his age. Looking up at him. Oh lord.

"Are you hurt?" He asked lamely. The other smiled and shook his head.

Crowley looked at him carefully, mostly accessing if that statement was true, but also looking over the other. He was handsome, in a way. He wasn't what one thought of when one thought of handsome in those parts. Instead of muscular and lean he was soft and gentle looking, with dainty perfectly clean hands. His hair a curly crown upon his head, so white it shone like a halo.

"What's your name?"

Crowley stopped. He swears he remembers a story from his childhood to never give his name to anyone in the forest, lest the Fae hear and take him away from life as he knew it.

"Call me AJ."

The boy looked at him, mouthing the word carefully, as if tasting it on his tongue. A small look of disappointment covered his face, before being shoved away to delight.

"You may call me Fell." The other replied, a twinkle in his eyes. It looked like he had accepted a challenge that Crowley didn't realize he had started.

"Would you like something to eat?" Crowley again politely declined before sitting across from the other. He had kept to one rule his mother gave, not to go into the forest hungry. He wasn't completely stupid.

Perfectly soft with unblemished pale skin. Until he looked and saw golden marks on the outside of the other thigh. It was cold, and the other was wearing a ritualistic dress with careful slits up the sides. The dress was white and almost touched the forest floor when the other sat down.

"Are you not cold?" He asked. He was close to taking his coat off to offer it to the boy.

"No, I'm used to the weather." Well he would keep his coat then, he was not used to the weather.

They sit in silence again, as the blond finally continues his tune. The woods around them seem to fall silent as Fell sang, and Crowley couldn't help but feel enraptured. He held perfect melody, his voice was deep but he hit higher notes like a perfect choir singer. He had never heard someone with such a pretty voice.

Suddenly he was awake, the others face close to him to tell him softly, "you'd better get home. Terrible business to be out in the woods alone at night."

And would you look at that, it was almost sun-down. He stood up quickly, sending a wave to the other before booting back home. When he arrived he saw his mother in the living room, eating a slice of bread. She looked at him and gestured to the kitchen. He would be making his own dinner tonight. And if he was lucky he was allowed to cook tomorrow.