Chapter Text
They all were different from others. But with him, Vanya knew there was something more.
Before Vanya was taught to write, she knew it. She could not say when she came to that conclusion, for as long as she had been a part of the umbrella academy orphanage, she knew he was not like the rest of them. Not with his green eyes brighter than the leaves they caught in the wind. Or with his ears that came to a point, seeking silent whispers he was not supposed to hear. Especially that smile. One that even when a child, when he should not have been able to understand the world enough to have it, was dripping with arrogance and mischief.
But it was only when the nanny, Grace, told them bedtime stories that Vanya understood. “…And then the Fae returned the human child to the mother, safe and healthy. For as the mother had taken care of the changeling child, so did she take care of the human one.” Grace smiled when the children clapped politely, some loudly, at the evening tale. Another fairy tale about changelings and fae that adults said were for kids. Even though they were the ones avoiding mushroom rings and wearing iron around their wrists.
“That will have to be our last story for the night children.” Grace closed the yellowing pages against the protests of the children before her. “Now, now. Good children do what they are told and go to bed right away. Unless there are some changeling children here which I should be worried about.” Her voice was playful. Teasing. The children laughed, covering their mouths, and sneaking mischievous glances across the carpet.
But Vanya did not laugh. Her smile that had been bright at the promise of a new story had slowly faded as the story went on. Her gaze turned to her left, to the boy who dutifully sat at her side. He gazed straight back at her.
That night when the moon shone through the broken windows, Vanya had crept into the small room he had claimed. She knew he was awake, and he did nothing as she shuffled closer.
“Are you a changeling, or a fae?”
When she slipped beneath the covers and whispered her question, he did not bother trying to change her mind. Or make her feel foolish as he did other children. He never did with her. “Technically, they are the same. A changeling is a fae raised in human lands.”
“Why?” When he turned and raised an eyebrow, she whispered softer, careful not to wake anyone else through the thin walls. “Why would fae want to send their children here?”
“To learn.” He had twisted, fixing his green eyes on her. So intense, even when bags hugged at his eyes. “Learn how humans create. Hear their stories, see their poems…listen to their music.” His gaze softened. Vanya did not notice, or perhaps she was too confused to.
“You want to learn about the arts?”
“Fae can’t make any.” His frown was etched in, something Vanya thought so odd on another child. “Fae…lack the ability to create anything that has meaning beyond the physical. They can paint and dance, but only in mimicry. Cheap, angry, hurtful copying. They cannot create something that touches the heart. No stories to make someone cry…or music that makes one want to live.”
Vanya wondered if he was making fun of her. But she doubted it. They matched with Grace’s stories, where Fae music made humans dance till they bled. Or told stories that convinced them to walk into a hungry bears jaw. That was not art. That was not the music that made her heart float above the clouds and made her jump along to the notes.
His eyes had started to close, and he turned away. With a pout, Vanya had tugged at the blankets till he moved again to glare at her. “You haven’t answered you know.” At his slow blinking, she continued. “Are you a changeling?”
He blinked. “It’s best if I don’t answer.” He did not have to.
“Is your name really Peter?” He snorted. “What is it then?”
He did not answer. He only turned and either fell asleep or pretended to. She did not push. As time passed, she began to doubt he would ever tell her.
The next week, Vanya asked the headmaster for his old violin. She practiced whenever she had free time, even when the other children wailed for her to stop. Though she sometimes stomped in frustration or her fingers ached from cramps, she played.
Maggie in the Woods was the first song she learned. She played it for him, the only one she trusted would listen without getting bored.
When she got through without mistake, he did not praise her. Instead, he said his name was Five.
…
Vanya decided at 12 that she had a talent for spotting out the unordinary. Maybe being invisible made the world clearer.
But of the nearly fifty children that the Umbrella Orphanage were legally required to take in, Vanya spotted six that were not like the others. Luther, who lifted carriages as if they were pillows. Diego who moved the marbles so he would always win. Allison who no one ever disobeyed, not even adults. Klaus, who whispered to thin air and told other children about their loved ones. And Ben, who she once caught petting a strange scaly creature no books explained.
When Vanya had asked if any of the others were changelings to, Five had scoffed. “Obviously not. None of them are clever enough to be Fae.” Vanya had thought that was very rude, but he had rolled his eyes. “Maybe they are fae blessed. Born from a wish from a fae, their mother or father asked for a blessing or a fae was feeling reckless.”
“Why are they here then?” Vanya asked, gesturing to the rundown walls and broken floorboards. “If they were blessed, shouldn’t they be with parents?”
Five gave her a pointed look. “Fae never give gifts, Vanya. Anything given is given in mischief.”
“Never?”
“Not unless it is for someone they love.”
Vanya decided it was for the best they did not know their parents. Or what happened to them.
Sometimes she did not understand how others did not know the truth. But even the children with their own oddities never questioned Five. Sure, they were annoyed at his arrogance and how he seemed to know far more than a child their age should. And sometimes they questioned how he seemed to appear out of nowhere. No one questioned his bright eyes, abnormal height, pale skin or pointed ears. None wondered why he appeared young yet ancient in his bearing. Children seemed to accept that he was odd and adults that he was exceptionally bright.
It was possible Five was making fun of her. That it was all an elaborate joke and that he was teasing her by stringing her along. But she did not think so.
Not the boy who always accepted her peanut butter marshmallow sandwiches without question. Who, when she only played a few notes on her violin, would wordlessly appear in her room, and continue what he was doing in silence. Who would drag her out in the forests to show her something from his kind and let her crawl underneath his covers after a terrible nightmare. The boy who whispered his plans and secrets of the world to her while doing chores. That boy would not lie to her.
He protected her in little ways – ways no one else could see. She remembered the day they learned about Russian names when they were seven and Diego’s unrelenting teasing.
“Vanya’s a boys name!” He had laughed. “If you cut your hair you’d look like one too!” Childish insults, but at seven they were enough to make Vanya cry.
The next day all of Diego’s clothes were replaced with dresses and his hair somehow grew as long as his waist. Though Diego had been red-faced for a week Klaus had strutted through town with the clothes as if he were the subject of a famous painter.
Though Five had not said anything about it, Vanya had said thank you and kissed his cheek. He had become just as red-faced as Diego then.
They were a fine pair she thought. Her music to his equations. Her emotions to his logic. Humility to arrogance and self-deprecating to confidence. She sometimes wondered if, as they grew, these would change. Would she help him be kinder to others, or he show her how to stand up for herself? Which would come first?
But as the years passed, another question knotted in her stomach.
At fifteen she was playing behtoven in the living room when she could play no longer. Her violin went silent and Five looked up from the strange numbers and writtings he scribbled on the wall. “What’s wrong?”
At first she couldn’t reply. She tried – she did try. But the words did not come out. She choked. Her vision became blurry. “Vanya!” She heard Five curse as she blinked. The next thing she knew he was in front of her, pulling her down to the couch. “What’s wrong?”
“I-It’s just...” She sniffed and wiped at her tears. Oh, how she hated how easily she cried. When frustrated, angry, scared – they came at the simplest times.
Five did not comment on the tears. He only narrowed his eyes, intense and focused. “Did Diego make fun of you again?” When she shook her head, his frown deepened. “Did Klaus say something inappropriate and embarrass you?” She shook her head. “…Did one of the village kids take your music notes again?”
“No!” She protested firmly that time, desperate to avoid another ‘village kids eating daisies’ incident. There was quiet as she wiped at her eyes, trying to calm herself enough to speak. He waited. Quiet. Vanya’s hands became sweaty, and she stared at them when she spoke. “Are…A-Are you going to leave?”
There was nothing. Vanya did not dare look up. She did not want to see his face when he told her what she knew he would say. But the tears came quicker, and her voice broke. “T-The story said the changeling was switched…T-That they l-left. Does t-that mean you w-will too?”
“…I’m going to have to.” A brief silence as she bit into her lip. It nearly broke. “I do not belong in human lands. I need to go home.”
She nodded. She’d known it. It was selfish of her to think otherwise. To expect him to stay somewhere he did not belong, when he may have others waiting for him. With her sleeve she rubbed at her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts. When she pulled back there was tears and snot on her sleeve. Of all things, she had to cry now? Why do I have to be so emotional? She chastised herself, embarrassed of herself as always.
Softly, Five reached out and tipped her chin up. Forcing her to stare into that intense gaze that made those who did not know him shake as if dunked in cold water. “I’ll be back again. I’ll be back for…I’ll miss…” He stumbled a bit. Then waved towards the halls where the other five were taking their ‘special lessons.’ “There’s a reason fae never stay out of human tales for long.”
“B-but will I see you again?”
“Of course you will. You’re my best friend.” When she did not reply he took her hands in his. “I’ll always come back for you.”
She believed him.
The next day she found a bracelet under her pillow. It was made of silver, intertwined, and woven together like tree branches. In the center was one, small green gem. Smooth as water and as bright as the moon.
He denied it back and forth. Later Vanya supposed she should not have asked in front of the others, especially when the girls whispered and the boys teased. Later she went and apologized and he brushed it off. But though he never confirmed it, she knew it was from him. A promise that he would return.
When Five disappeared, Vanya knew immediately.
She went into the kitchen and found Peter sitting in Five’s spot. No one commented on his hair that was a light brown rather than onyx black. How his smile was pleasant instead of smug. Or how his green eyes had paled and lacked his intensity. Even his skin was a few shades darker than the boy who preferred shade and indoors to read his books while others went out to play.
He was eating toast with jam. Not peanut butter and marshmallows.
Through the day she was suspicious. But only when she played a new song did she know for sure. “That thing is really loud.”
At the end of the day, Klaus had taken the seat Five normally took. Peter did not mind. And Klaus noticed. “Is Peter okay?” He’d whispered to her.
She nodded. Because yes. Peter was okay. Peter was there. But Five had left her.
The song she played were sad ones that night.
It took the others longer to figure it out.
She was not sure the day Ben figured it out. Just that one day he said he hoped the first Peter was happy. And there was the day Allison came asking whether Peter was different than before. When the others discovered the truth, she was never sure. But they all knew by the time they were adults that he was definitely not the same.
He was distant – started relating more to the other children then their odd little circle. By the time they were adults and it was time to leave the umbrella orphanage, Vanya was not sure Peter remembered her name. He moved away quickly, somewhere far, quiet. Ben and Allison had gone to her room that day, wrapping her in blankets and giving her stolen cookies. She knew he thought she was hurt. They all did. But she wasn’t. She had been hurt long ago, and not by Peter. He was just the poor boy who got caught in the middle of it all. A part of her was glad she was gone.
Peter was just a reminder that her best friend was gone. And her – ordinary, nonmagical, unworthy – was left behind.
She learned, as she got older, that the adults living in her rural villages were often separated into two groups. Those who were invested in the fae, and those who were afraid of them. Oh sure, most said they did not believe they existed. That they were fairytales to teach children to stay in bed at night.
Yet it was the adults that protested the most that bought iron necklaces and worked to cut off any strange plants on their land from growing.
And others, though fewer, would gather these plants to let them grow. They would rush after glowing eyes they found in the woods or listen hard for any twinkling in an otherwise silent night.
They always wore their iron bracelets though. Even the most foolish were afraid of the fae tricksters in the wood.
Vanya never denied fae existed. But while she stopped avoiding fairy circles, she also stopped listening to stories. She wore iron bracelets, but did not cover the windows when bells were heard from outside. She ignored soft whispers in the woods and played her music without a care for who would listen.
Even those said to be fae blessed cautioned her against such recklessness. After she finished playing When Dancers Dream during a full moon, Klaus had laughed. But there was a serious caution in his eyes. “Don’t you know the fae love to whisk away pretty girls who play music? They’ll take you to their lands and you’ll never be able to leave,” He stage whispered. When Vanya only shrugged, his smile wavered. “Have you forgotten about the fae?”
No. But she wished she could. And when the final peanut butter and marshmellow sandwich she left out in the dark remained uneaten, she vowed to never let such stories invade her life and hurt her again.
…
They all had the same birthday. And at 18, they were all made to leave the umbrella orphanage together.
There were about fifteen or so who had to leave. Vanya and the other fae blessed children as well. But the others quickly moved out of the village, to find lives of their own. The six of them – strange, unusual but somehow always sticking together – were given a special home owned by a Sir Reginald. Vanya had met the man on the rare occasion he had come to check on the ‘special children.’ Though she remembered Five’s odd aversion too him.
Vanya had been relieved when Grace had come to her with the offer. The years in the orphanage had already been lonely. Though she knew it would come, she was not looking forward to being completely alone.
Though Reginald rather rude, unemotional, and difficult to speak to, she was better equipped to deal with him as an adult than she would have if he had been given more charge of them as children. They had a home, were rarely bothered, and free to come and go as they wished. As long as they continued the specialized lessons he had instructed, which for Vanya was an increased education on music, they could stay. Of all that she had let go of, lost, and misunderstood as a child, her music had never left her.
At first, she had wondered why Sir Reginald had decided to show mercy to 6 orphans after ignoring them and all the rest as children. But when she met the man she knew. Saw the iron he wore on both wrists and around his neck. Saw the greedy look in his eyes when he scanned them all. And watched as he followed the forests, searching for something that he would not find.
The poor man. Vanya pitied him, knowing firsthand he would never be visited. His heart was cold, and he showed no appreciate for the arts other than to find information. There was no soul in his actions.
He wanted the fae for information. But they would never be interested in him.
Yet he desired for them to be. And the fae blessed were the best he could find.
And Vanya…perhaps she made them look better. Or maybe he somehow knew of Five, so cautious around the man when younger. Maybe he hoped more fae would be curious of her and come searching within his home.
She did not care for the man enough to explain that would never happen.
It seemed, as always, Vanya was the only one not surprised when Reginald financed their careers. If he could not get the attention of fae from them, he could at least get human fame. Luther and Diego both trained as knights and became men of glory. Klaus became a designer, famous enough to work for lords and ladies of the court. Ben loved high literature, and though could not write his own tales he often worked with those who did and recorded stories of old. And Allison became a performer. She joined a traveling group and soon became famous throughout the kingdom.
And Vanya became the side attraction. She was called to perform for a knight’s banquet. Klaus introduced her to his artistic friends. Ben asked her to help understand old folk songs. And Allison would hire her to play the music for her performances.
A part of her knew the others were trying to help. They wanted Vanya to find the same joy in life they had found. But no matter how many hands clapped and how loud the cheers ran, Vanya never felt at home within it. Her music was an extra, not the centerpiece. Music was not appreciated among those around her. And she knew if music did not, she did not belong.
As the years had passed, Reginald had not pushed for Vanya and Allison to marry, which Vanya was grateful for. She assumed it was to encourage their arts, but she was relieved, nonetheless. Other girls had gotten married straight out of the orphanage, if for nothing but to ensure a life of peace. She knew as she aged it was expected of women of the time, unless she preferred to be a spinster for life. But she had never had the desire. Never wanted to cement her life in their small little village, even if it was the only life she knew. It never felt right.
And though marriages of the time were often for livelihood rather than love, Vanya knew no one she would wish to be with. Luther could not look away from Allison if his life depended on it. Diego had grown to be kinder and more loyal since he was a child, yet he was still reckless with his comments when lashing out and Vanya did not think she was the right person to handle that. Ben was the one she was closest to besides Five. But while they were all close, Ben was like the brother she never had. And Klaus may have grown to be a good friend, but their personalities and life goals were very…very different. Staying up talking about their feelings was fine, but if he tried to convince her to eat another suspicious mushroom she was going to have to move.
No, she was settled into her life of solitude and did not know how to leave.
Then Harold Jenkins laid waste to all the walls she had built up, the good and the bad.
She should have been suspicious when he came up to her at a funeral. Sir Reginald’s to be exact. Though none were griefstriken, Allison suggested she and Vanya perform a procession song. After he was buried, Harold had come with compliments to her playing. And at what Diego and Klaus had called ‘the afterparty’ they had spoken for hours on length about her music.
He was a carpenter. A few towns over but had come in for the funeral. “I heard the famous white violinist was playing,” He had said with a soft, almost nervous smile. “I ah, wanted to hear you in person.”
She had fingered the ends of her black dress. “I-I’m hardly famous.”
“No? Well, I think you’re pretty good.” Vanya had said nothing but smiled into her drink.
It was a short courtship. Or, at least, others told Vanya it was. It seemed fine to her. She had finally found someone who was willing to accept her and she loved him. Was that not enough?
Allison did not like him. She was sure of that after the first time Vanya had brought him to meet her. Even Diego and Luthor seemed less than welcoming. Ben did not seem to fond, and even Klaus tried to pull her away. “You know, if you were interested in the artsy type or musicians, I know a few guys and girls that could strike your fancy.” He had winked. “I happen to know you like both, and the artsy court wouldn’t care as much as farmers and stuck-up villagers around here would.” Vanya was certain he knew from experience. Meeting his new ‘friend’ Dave had certainly confirmed that.
And she would have taken up the offer, if there was one of them she cared for. But man or women, villager or artist, none made her feel heard.
She thought, as he encouraged her playing, that he appreciated music. That he felt the soul behind it. Understood how, as she played for him alone, she was letting him see all she was. And hoped that he would accept it.
The four months of their courtship were such a blur, Vanya hardly had a chance to sit down and think. He treated her with compliments, always asked about her life and upbringing. He asked her how she had learned to play and her performances. Vanya loved to talk about her music and even more happy to share it with a man who seemed to care.
When they had approached a fairy circle, he had walked right through it. “Didn’t really grow up superstitious,” he explained with a shrug. “Figured if a fae wanted to hurt me, they already would have.”
Somehow it made Vanya even more sure she could live with him.
It was not perfect. But as Allison had told her compromise was necessary, Vanya assumed that meant she could forgive the few mistakes.
The days that he would laugh at her wariness of fae stories were forgiven when he made her dinner. When he did not speak to her for days he explained it was just because he was busy with his jobs. And when he insisted on controlling the income she got for her work, he said it was just because he didn’t want her to worry about money. It felt…she was not sure. It was not what she expected. A love filled with tension like she was walking on eggshells with every step.
But Vanya thought it was all okay. It was her own fault, for not knowing what relationships were supposed to look like. But she could make it work.
And she wanted him to be happy. When she did not want to tell him about her family, he would stop any affection until she did, and she didn’t want that. And he was only worried for her when he got annoyed at her talking to people other than him. He made her happy. It was only right she made him happy too.
Besides, as he told her, she was lucky to have him. Who else would want her? “I’ve been so patient to wait these four months,” he had explained during the last of the four. “I mean, don’t you think it’s a little unfair to make me wait longer?”
She was not sure. But she did not want to risk him changing his mind.
A life with him would be so different. They would move in together, probably go to his town a few miles away. Away from the friends she had come to consider family. She knew while Harold loved music, he would not want her to continue performing as she did. They would get married and she would stay in the house, taking care of any children they had. Being in love. Yet always careful, always cautious. Doing whatever it took to keep Harold happy.
But at least she would be far away. Far away from any memories of being abandoned, of being left behind.
It was her turn to leave the old legends behind and move on.
So, when Harold told her they were getting married, she did not argue.
The protests were so loud, Vanya was not sure she could play a solo performance and be heard above it all. Even Ben, who had promised not to interfere with Vanya’s choices, had given many reasons why she should not marry him. Allison had begged, Diego had screamed, Klaus in his Klaus way had tried to list all the other people she could have married if she wanted. But Vanya did not want to hear it.
“He’s not good for you,” Allison had tried to say. “You’re-you’re not you when you’re around him.”
“How would you know who I am? You’re always away on your performances anyway!” Vanya regretted saying such a thing, but it had shocked her into silence.
Klaus had shook his head. “Look, Vanny… Maybe you should just wait a bit longer, okay? Four months is really short. It kinda feels like you are rushing into this.” Vanya assured him she knew what she was doing.
“He’s just using you,” Diego insisted. “He wants to be seen next to the big and popular white violin with the powerful friends.” Vanya told him not everything was about them.
“Vanya, just because he can say nice things doesn’t mean he means them. Sweet words mean nothing if there is no heart behind them,” Ben said. She protested that there was, they just couldn’t hear it.
“Do you plan to run away forever?”
Luther surprised her. But when she turned to him, there was understanding in his eyes. “You…Forcing yourself into something won’t stop you from feeling lonely. And you don’t have too. He will come back.” He said it as if it were fact. As if they all knew the truth that she avoided.
Vanya did not know what Luther meant. She swore, she did not.
Yet at his comment, she grabbed her violin case, sprinted out the door and did not look back.
She did not know why she went to the forest. Maybe because at that time of night, no human dared to come into the woods. She knew there, she could be alone.
There, she could let her soul be free.
Without thinking, she unboxed her violin, pulled it out and started to play. It was automatic, done without thought. But as soon as the notes began to flow, she knew it was the right move. They cascaded through the breeze, dancing across leaves and flowing in the moonlight. Her world was full of soft, comforting emotions that came from her. The sound, the feeling she put behind them.
Feelings of anger at her family for saying such things.
Confusion at what had happened to make her life change to quickly.
Fear of Harold, that he would get angry and leave her as well.
And a longing. A longing for something the emotion that had once played so freely in her music. Once her songs had been filled with that wonder, joy. And a love that was unconditional. Different from her reality.
One last time. One last time, she would let those feelings flow through her music. Before she let them go for good.
At the last note, it seemed as if the world took a breath. When silence fell, the world held. Bated breath. Vanya found herself holding a breath too. Waiting for something.
But she let go of that breath. Nothing changed.
Her sigh matched the weight of the heavy breeze. She returned her violin to her box and stood. Preparing herself for the too short walk back.
“You always were an emotional player.”
She whirled around. Moving so fast her hair slapped her face. After frantically brushing it away, she was face to face with familiar pale skin. Onyx coloured hair. Pointed ears. Bright green eyes. And especially that smug smile.
And there beneath the moonlit sky, hidden with cloud cover and tree leaves – was Five.