Title: Isaac of the Roses
Summary: Isaac is betrayed by Hector who loved Rosaly who loved Hector… but what if Isaac and Rosaly were one and the same? A crack!fic which somehow gained a touch of seriousness when I wasn’t looking.
Warnings: homosexuality/heterosexuality (nothing explicit), crossdressing, spoilers for entire Curse of Darkness game – set before the game begins
Pairing: Hector/Isaac(Rosaly)
Author Note: Ok, some credit where it’s due. The idea for this fic came from a review I read for one of yubberducky’s stories in which people joked about Isaac being Rosaly. I dismissed the notion with a laugh but the idea just *wouldn’t leave*… so I wrote it. This fic is a present for benigirl, who was so wonderfully patient with me as it took me several months to write it and who encouraged me to actually put the idea on paper. It was meant as a complete crack!fic, but somehow it gained some real possibility. To the point where I think I could actually call it a serious fic! Wasn’t my intention, but hey, I’ll roll with it! Oh… and please don’t ask about the title… it’s a remnant of the crack!fic stage of this story…
 

There were times like this when Julia wondered what she had done in some past life to deserve a brother like the one she had. There he had been, bloody and beaten, barely conscious enough to tell her what hurt when she examined him, and he was already planning how he would follow the man who had defeated him.

“You will have plenty of time to plot revenge after you sleep off this medicine,” she told him, helping him sit enough to drink it.

“I’ll loose time that way,” Isaac muttered around a mouthful of blood, “I have to follow him soon or else-“

“Brother,” Julia cut him off, “I’ll even help you locate him if you’ll just allow yourself to rest and heal now.”

Isaac had done just that, and, three days later, when he was up and plotting, she regretted giving him her word. Each idea was more fantastic and doomed to failure than the last. Though, at least he listened to her as she pointed out the flaws in every plan.

“What you need if you are going to follow him,” Julia finally said softly, “is a disguise in which you become someone completely opposite from yourself.

“Someone completely opposite…” Isaac mused as his eyes trailed to a mirror on the wall. The mirror reflected the image of both siblings, and Isaac blinked as a sudden idea came to him.

Julia winced at the look on his face. She knew that look, and even before the words came out of his mouth she knew her brother had come up with a horrible, awful, ingenious idea.

“Someone like you, Julia,” he said slowly, an arcane smile forming on his lips.

“What?” Julia asked, astonished.

“Do you have any extra dresses?” Isaac replied idly, heading for her closet.

“Brother, when I said ‘opposite’, I didn’t mean you should cross-dress!” Julia exclaimed, following after him.

“But it’s perfect, dear sister, don’t you see? Hector’s recluse enough so that wherever he settles he won’t bother with the maids of the village. He won’t even look twice at me if he happens to see me.”

Julia opened her mouth to protest as Isaac pulled out a clone of the outfit she wore most often, but he cut her off.

“You said you would help me, sister.”

Julia sighed in resignation. “Fine. Put it on then.” But as she left the room to let him change she thought of something. “You’ll have to dye your hair.”

Isaac shot her a pained look; she knew how proud he was of his hair. But all he said was, “A sacrifice that will have to be made,” in a resolute and mournful tone.

“Ow!” Isaac yelped as he was again poked with the sharp end of a pin.

“Brother, if you would hold still, I wouldn’t prick you,” Julia told him calmly.

“Why do you have to do this, anyway?” Isaac muttered under his breath.

“I have to adjust the dress because you’re wider in the shoulders than I am.”

“Of course I am,” Isaac scoffed, “I’m not a girl.”

“But we’re making you look like one so hold still.”

Her brother groaned and stood still.

“I am not dunking my head in that,” Isaac stated resolutely.

Julia huffed and pushed her brother towards the tub of hair dye. “It won’t kill you, brother, and it won’t last more than a month. I promise.”

Isaac shook his head. “No.”

“You know you have to dye your hair, the red will stand out too much. Hector will recognize you if you don’t.”

“I’ll take that chance.”

“No you won’t. We’ve done too much work now to let your vanity get in the way.” Julia pushed him foreword resolutely. “You wanted a disguise; this is how we make that.”

Gingerly, Isaac knelt by the tub. “Are you sure-“

His words were cut off as Julia placed her hand over the back of his head and pushed it down into the dye.

His head came back up, sputtering, covered in the blond goop. “Julia!”

“There you go, brother,” she smiled at his indignant expression. “We’ll just wash off the extra dye and you’ll be as blond as I am.”

“But-“

“I told you, it’s not poisonous, nor is it permanent. Lots of women dye their hair this way.”

Isaac leveled a glare in her direction before raising a thoughtful eyebrow.

Julia huffed, reaching for a bucket of water. “Don’t give me that look! I’ll have you know I was born with blond hair.”

And she dumped the water on his head, ignoring his undignified yelp.

Isaac glared at the mirror.

A woman glared back at him.

Julia smiled at the look as she continued fiddling with his hair, finally pulling it back into a horsetail like her own. She looked at the mirror’s refection with satisfaction. Even she could have been fooled had she not known it was her brother… well, except for that tattoo.

“You’re going to have to hide this,” she said, poking the tattoo on his face with one finger. The rest of her brother’s marks were hidden by the dress, but that was a mark unique to Isaac that Hector would recognize in an instant if he saw it.

There was a flash of light to her left and her brother’s mage ID appeared. Wordlessly, he waved a hand at his face. The mage ID hiccupped, waving it’s strange wand at her brother, and the tattoo disappeared.

“Perfect. Now all you need is a name,” Julia told him.

“A name? Why do I need a name?”

“You’re going to be living near a village, right? What happens if one of them talks to you. You’ll need a name and you can’t use your own.”

“I’ll just use yours.”

“No, that’s no good. What if something happens and Hector realizes there are two Julias who look exactly alike?”

“How is he going to realize that? He’s never met you.”

“If he gets suspicious of you, he could figure it out with a bit of work. Plus, I want to be able to visit you. I can’t do that if you’re using my name.”

“How long do you think I’m going to be waiting to exact my revenge? There won’t be time for you to visit me.”

“We’ll see. Still you need a name.”

Julia looked around the room, her eye catching on the vase of roses on the windowsill.

“Rose… how about Rosaly?” she asked.

“I hate roses,” was Isaac’s only comment.

“Then Rosaly it is.”

“What?”

“You hate roses, and you’re trying not to be you. So, my lady, you are Rosaly.”

Isaac glared at her in the mirror. “You’re enjoying yourself too much.”

When Isaac arrived on the outskirts of the village, his bird ID settled on his shoulder with a satisfied warble. This was where Hector was hiding. Somewhere near this village. And thus, this was where Isaac would hide as Rosaly until he could find Hector.

Which left him the small problem of a house.

Isaac picked a small clearing near the smallest dirt rode that lead away from the village. He’d seen no travelers or villages pass through this rode in days, so it was perfect for his house. No one would be surprised when there was suddenly a house here, because no one watched this spot enough to know if there hadn’t already been one.

His battle ID and his devil ID built his house, with his battle ID felling trees and cutting them into logs. His devil ID lifted those logs into place as the walls grew and covered the roof with thatch so that rain would not fall inside. Together, his bird ID and his fairy ID created the glass for his windows, heating sand to make the glass and carefully setting it in the window.

His pumpkin ID made a garden underneath the kitchen window. A small garden with only one purpose, to make the house look like all the others in the village. Isaac himself knew nothing of gardening, and held no inclinations of tending to it himself.

Isaac stocked the house with only what supplies he needed and small things that would make it seem like the house was actually lived in. His Chauvre-Souris he hid away in a secret compartment of the closet. The Rosaly clothes he hung in the front of the closet, while he hid his normal clothing behind them.

And in a few days, one could not have told for certain if Rosaly had been living in the village for a few minutes or a few years.

Cooking was one thing which Isaac had not accounted for in his plan. More than once he had to summon his battle ID to stamp out burning food (and to eat it since Isaac himself wouldn’t). He was hungry nearly constantly the first sennday, but finally he began to understand how to work the fire, the griddle, and the tea kettle.

The one problem with cooking and keeping the house somewhat clean, was that it took most of his time. So Isaac took to searching for Hector with his bird ID at night and working as Rosaly during the day. He practiced mannerisms for Rosaly constantly, spoke in a soft and low voice until he could switch between his normal voice and Rosaly’s voice effortlessly, and slowly learned how to walk in the strange female clothing Julia had tailored for him.

Isaac’s peace was broken one day by raucous laughter, which heralded a group of boys who were playing tag.

“They’d better not trample my garden,” Isaac muttered, considering how careful he had to be when letting his pumpkin ID tend it, so that the plants did not seem to grow unnaturally quickly. But the boys avoided the garden, intent on their game, as Isaac watched them from the window.

They traded the “it” position back and forth for a while, until Isaac found himself almost bored with watching them. This dark haired kid had been “it” three times already; he couldn’t seem to run as fast as the others.

Though as the boy broke down in a coughing fit, Isaac noticed that other things were off about the boy as well. He was too pale, and too thin. And this fit he was having was defiantly not healthy.

There was a light tug on Isaac’s hear and he looked down to see his fairy ID looking at him in question. Then she looked at the boy and back to Isaac. He looked back out the window at the boy, who was now talking to his friends, the game on pause. He was sick, that much Isaac knew. But Isaac was no healer, like Julia was. All he had were his innocent devils.

“Could you heal him?” Isaac asked, and was amused when his fairy bobbed her head up and down emphatically.

But the boy couldn’t see his ID, that much Isaac knew. He would need a kind of distraction for the boy to focus on while his ID healed him. What if he gave him something to drink? Like that mint tea stuff Julia liked. Then his fairy ID could heal the boy as he drank and the boy would think that it was the tea which had healed him, if he figured out that he had been sick in the first place.

The boy was sitting in the dirt by the side of the path when Isaac left the house with a steaming mug of tea. A quick look to the window assured him that his ID could not be seen, though he knew by the almost happy humming in the back of his mind that she was watching and waiting to cast her spell.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, mindful that he was Rosaly at the moment and not himself.

The boy looked up and nodded, even as he began to cough again.

“That’s a very nasty cough,” he commented, kneeling down next to the boy. He held out the mug. “Here drink this; it should help. Be careful, though, it’s still very hot.”

A pale glow visible only to Isaac surrounded the boy as he drank, the fairy ID stretching out her spell to last the entire time the boy was drinking, which would help cement the illusion that it was the drink which was helping his cough.

Even to Isaac’s untrained eye, the boy looked healthier when he finished.

“Thank you Miss… umm… what’s your name?” the boy asked as he handed the mug back.

“Rosaly,” Isaac murmured.

“Thank you Miss Rosaly!” the boy chirped. “My name’s Beni.”

“It’s nice to meet you Beni.”

“Are you a doctor? My throat feels all better!”

Isaac smiled. “No, I’m not. I just happen to know some things.”

“Oh, okay.” The boy got to his feet. “I should go find my friends. I told them to go on and play without me ‘cuz I was just getting in the way, but I think I can play now.” He scampered down the road a ways before stopping and turning to wave. “Thank you again!”

Isaac saw Beni and his friends a few more times that sennday. Tag seemed to be their favorite game; tag in all sorts of forms. Once, whoever was tagged had to stand in place until someone else un-tagged him. Another time they stood in a circle chanting and then one of them yelled out a number and that person had to tag that many from the circle. Then, sometimes, everyone seemed to be “it” and anyone who was tagged had to sit out by the edge of the path until there was only one person left victorious.

But tag wasn’t all they played. Once Isaac saw them running by with crudely cut sticks, having a mock battle. It made Isaac miss his own weapon of choice, the Chauvre-Souris, carefully locked away in a closet.

They came every few days or so, always together in a pack that he could hear long before he saw them. So it was indeed strange when one day Beni came up the path by himself, a sullen look in his eyes and a hesitant shuffle in his step.

The boy hesitated before his door, looking around a few times and visibly steeling himself for something. But he did knock and Isaac made his way from the window to the doorway, checking to make sure that all of his IDs were either well hidden or away before he opened the door.

Standing only a little ways away from Beni showed that the boy’s face was streaked with the trails of fresh tears, and his eyes watered with more that had not yet fallen.

“Good day Beni… what’s wrong?”

Beni sniffed, his hands finding their way to his pockets before he looked up at Isaac. “My sister’s really sick, Miss Rosaly.”

Isaac schooled his features into ones of sadness and partial shock, opening the door wider and allowing the boy to come inside. He allowed the boy to sit down on one of the chairs before waiting for the boy to speak more.

“My sis’s older than me,” Beni said at last. “And a lotta the time I don’t like her very much. She’s bossy and gets mad when I come in all dirty from being out with my friends, but she’s real sick now. Ma wouldn’t even let me in to see her a couple of times because she doesn’t know if I can get it or not. An’ well… I know you’re not a doctor, but the ones Ma and Pa paid for say they can’t do anything. We don’t have much, but Ma and Pa sold a lotta stuff to get the doctors for her… and now…” the tears that had been threatening to fall began to cascade down his face. “Now they can’t do nothing.”

Isaac caught a flicker of glitter out of the corner of his eye. His fairy ID had crawled out of his breadbox where she had been hiding and was listening intently.

“I’m so sorry, Beni,” Isaac murmured softly. It was what Rosaly would say in this situation, he thought.

“I know you’re not a doctor, but… could.. could you come look at her?” The last words came out in a rush as Beni visibly steeled himself for a refusal.

Isaac caught another flicker of glitter and looked over at his fairy ID. She was jumping up and down to catch his attention, nodding her head emphatically and pointing at herself.

“What is she sick with, Beni?” Isaac asked.

“I dunno. No one tells me stuff anymore.”

“Well, when you saw her, what did she look like?”

“All pale and stuff, and she was really hot when I touched her. She had a cough, a really bad one. Kinda wet too, and watery.”

Julia had said something about this kind of illness once, Isaac remembered idly. There was liquid in this girl’s lungs. Modern doctors couldn’t cure it, but Julia’s witchcraft could. But Julia wasn’t here. Under normal circumstances, this girl would die. But his ID was now twittering in the back of his mind, still hopping and pointing at herself.

It would be best not to get involved, to let this girl die. If he healed what doctors could not, then it would bring unnecessary attention to himself. He understood why Beni had asked him, the boy was a child and it was easy to equate one cough with another. If he had cured Beni’s cough, why not Beni’s sister’s? But it was not that simple for adults, and it was adults Isaac had to hide from. He didn’t even know where exactly Hector was yet, and he should be more worried about exacting his revenge for the humiliation the other Devil Forgemaster had bestowed upon him than this boy’s trouble.

Yet, as his fairy ID chattered away in the back of his mind and he looked at the boy’s tear-streaked face, his resolve began to weaken. What if it was Julia who was sick? Julia had never been sick, another gift given to her because of her magical abilities, but Isaac himself had been sick many times. Every time he’d somehow made his way to her and she’d made him better every time. He could understand this little boy who was grasping at mere threads of hope to save his sister. Even though they might fight and disagree, life without that other person would be… missing something.

Isaac sighed and made his way over to the breadbox, grabbing his ID and dropping her in one of the pockets of the dress with a whispered order to stay hidden until he told her to cast the spell.

“I can’t promise anything, Beni, you must know that,” he said.

The boy’s head snapped up to look at Isaac, a look of hope on his face. He nodded slowly, but Isaac knew that the boy did expect him to fix his sister, no matter what he agreed to on the outside.

Beni’s house was on the opposite side of town, and the two walked in silence until they reached the small wooden house. It was a bit larger than Isaac’s… or Rosaly’s, he reminded himself, but it was small in comparison to the family it housed. It was a sign of how little they had, if Beni’s family of four lived in a house which was of the size to comfortably fit one or two people.

But the house was obviously well loved. It’s small front lawn was filled with a garden much more complex than Isaac’s little one, but Isaac suspected this was because this family truly relied on it while his was just for show. There was a wooden gate around surrounding the garden and Isaac could see a large stack of logs by the front door, neatly cut and placed together.

There was a man sitting on the stoop before the door – obviously waiting for Beni to return, but Isaac did not notice him until he stood and Beni called his name across the yard.

“Is Constance better, Hector?”

Isaac stopped short and then forced himself to keep moving, his broken stride unnoticed by both Beni and Hector.

Hector shook his head and Beni drooped visibly as he opened the gate and letting Isaac walk inside first.

“Rosaly said she would try and help!” The hope was back in his voice as he told Hector this, and Isaac winced at the thought that he really would have to let this sister of Beni’s, this Constance die. There was no way he could use his Fairy ID with Hector here. Hector would notice.

Hector looked over at Rosaly as Beni added, almost as an afterthought. “Oh, Miss Rosaly, this is Hector. He’s staying with us for a while. He helps my Pa.”

Isaac schooled his features into a demure smile, one he’d seen Julia use many times. Perhaps this wasn’t a total waste – he now knew where Hector was staying in this village. He was one step closer to revenge. “A pleasure.” He let the words roll of his tongue in the soft tone he’d created for Rosaly before turning back to Beni. “Perhaps I should look at your sister now.”

Beni nodded eagerly and lead him past Hector and into the house.

Inside was stuffy and hot. They were trying to sweat out the fever. Julia had talked about this method, Isaac remembered. It didn’t work. Beni lead him through a small kitchen to an even smaller sitting room, where a girl was lying on the couch, cocooned in blankets.

Two other people were in the room, and Beni introduced them as his parents. Beni got his hair from his mother, Isaac mused idly, while nearly every other feature from his father. Both parents looked worn and they lacked the hope in their eyes that Beni still had. They had given up, Isaac realized. When they looked at their daughter, they could only steel themselves for her death.

And she would die too. Nothing short of Julia could save her – not with Hector outside.

The chatter of his fairy ID grew more frantic in the back of his mind – more insistent. She wanted him to try anyway. He silently shushed her as Beni’s father ushered Beni out of the room. Beni waved as he left – certain in that childish innocence that Rosaly would cure his sister.

Beni’s mother was silent for a few moments before she reached out for Rosaly’s hand.

“Thank you for coming. Beni has told us good things about you. But we – my husband and I – we know there is nothing that can be done for Constance. The best healers we could buy could do nothing. But Beni still hopes. Thank you for coming with him. You must too know that nothing can be done.”

Isaac looked at the girl. Beni’s mother was right. Nothing could be done by a healer. Only a witch, or a fairy ID, could save this girl.

“I promised Beni I would try. I told him that I could give him no guarantee.”

“You will try?” Beni’s mother was surprised, as if she had expected something different.

Isaac’s fairy ID chirped in his mind – pleading. But if Hector realized… Isaac frowned as he looked at the girl. He was known to Hector as Rosaly already. He could not risk Hector sensing his fairy ID. He could not be known as a Devil Forgemaster to Hector, not at any cost. And yet…

And yet this Constance looked like Julia.

No, no, she didn’t. Constance had brown hair, and rounded features. She was shorter and plumper than Julia. But she looked…

… like a sister.

He forced his mouth into a small smile and turned back to the mother. “I promised I will try and I will. But I can make no promises.”

The mother’s smile was radiant. Isaac wondered if his mother would have looked like that before pushing that thought away from him with a violent mental shove. That was not something he thought about anymore.

Constance coughed loudly. Isaac winced at the sound. It was a harsh, hacking, wet cough. It was exactly as Julia had described to him.

“I… we will all be outside, if you need us.” The mother was scared, Isaac could tell. Her hope had returned, and yet with it the fear that those same hopes would be dashed.

The woman left the room and Isaac let the fairy ID out of his pocket. “This has to be a very slow spell,” he whispered. “Make it take a sennday to finish. Get the water out of her lungs, but have the fever linger for a few days.”

The fairy ID nodded and curled up on the girl’s forehead, crooning softly. Isaac felt a small tendril of power eek out from the ID and touch the girl. As the ID’s power slowly curled itself inside the girl, Isaac set to creating the distraction that would hopefully steer even Hector from thinking of innocent devils or witchcraft. Mint tea, the same kind as he had given Beni yet with added ingredients like honey and cinnamon. He would tell the mother to make sure to keep her warm – but not hot like this blistering inferno of a room. Also because she would be sweating, she would need to be bathed every day to keep clean. It would also help with the fever. And in a sennday the fairy ID’s magic would run it’s course and he could begin plotting his revenge.

Isaac did not see Beni for that next sennday, but he did not expect to. Beni’s friends came down by his house once as they played, but they seemed a bit lost without all of their group present. They waved to Rosaly, as Isaac was outside pretending to tend his garden, and Isaac forced himself to wave back. After they left, he cursed at how easy it was becoming to be Rosaly.

He summoned his pumpkin ID to actually work on the garden and stormed inside the house. He crossed the room as his fairy ID raced to hide herself in the breadbox and threw open the door to the closet where he’d hidden his Chauvre-Souris. This had taken too long already. He knew where Hector was hiding in this little desolate town. He should not have been waiting this long to take his revenge. He should not have cared what happened to that girl, he should –

His bird ID trilled a warning in his mind and he felt his pumpkin ID disappear from the garden. Nestled again in his mind, the pumpkin ID muttered in its incoherent syllables about an intruder.

Isaac carefully placed his Chauvre-Souris back in its hiding place as there was a knock on the door. He frowned. That was not Beni’s knock. But who else would be calling on him in the middle of the day?

Isaac crossed to the door and opened it, schooling his features in to those he attributed to Rosaly. Yet he was very tempted to drop them when he saw who was standing on the other side of the door.

Hector. Holding a potted plant. A rose.

Isaac fought back a twitch. He hated roses.

Hector gave him a sheepish smile and he remembered that he was Rosaly at the moment… a woman named after roses.

“Beni told me that you didn’t have a rose bush in your garden,” Hector offered in explanation. The sheepish look melted into one Isaac had seen only a few times on Hector’s face. Relief. Thankfulness. Emotions that the other Devil Forgemaster hadn’t needed before his betrayal. “Constance has recovered. She is still very weak, but she won’t die. We didn’t know how to thank you, but Beni’s mother grows very beautiful roses.” He held up the rose plant. “So I brought you a little one.”

Hector brought him a rose.

He hated roses.

He really hated roses. Yet for some reason he was letting Hector plant that rose plant on one side of his garden as his pumpkin ID eagerly warbled in his mind about another plant to grow.

Rosaly should have a rose bush, should she not? He could almost hear Julia’s amused voice. That’s what she would have told him. That’s why he was letting Hector plant the roses.

And after he got his revenge he would pull that plant out of the ground and burn it.
 

Isaac mentally added another item to his slowly growing shopping list. Flour. He needed flower. And sugar.

His fairy ID went through sugar too fast. Isaac himself hardly used any sugar, yet his fairy ID loved sugar water – it was all she would consume.

Perhaps he spoiled her.

But he still needed flower and sugar. And it was the first day of the sennday, thus it was market day.

He liked and disliked market day. It made sense to him – everyone from the outlying regions of the town came into town to sell or buy what they needed for the sennday. But what he didn’t like was the swarm of people. Everyone seemed to think market day was this big event. Perhaps it was in a small village like this, he idly thought. But with lots of people came an added risk that someone would find out he was not a woman.

And yet he still needed flower and sugar. He was out of bread, and his fairy ID would get hungry again tonight.

So Isaac locked all of his IDs inside the house with strict instructions that they were not to peer out the windows for any reason, and headed down the dirt rode to the center of the village.

The common green was not so green this time of year. It was high summer and the grass had taken on a brownish tint in some areas. Not like his grass, which was watched over by his pumpkin ID’s magic. But one could hardly see the grass through the many people crowed onto the green.

Selling, buying, yelling. All noise, all bustle. Isaac slipped his way through the crowd taking care not to jostle or be jostled by anyone. Sugar he obtained first, placing it in the basket on his arm. He would need both hands to carry the flour – experience had taught him that. Inwardly he cringed – he’d been here too long if he had enough experience to know that.

The flour was bought next. Bought – not bargained for. Isaac never traded one good for another. He had enough coin to buy his food. The vendors were always surprised, for no one in this poor community was really rich enough to buy food, but they never turned the coin away. And Isaac didn’t really care what they thought of him. It wasn’t like he spent much time in town anyway.

The walk back to his house was slower than the walk to the common green, with the sugar on one arm, and the flour held with both hands. He had gained a new respect for women who had to do this on a senndayly basis – flour was heavy. Not too heavy, but heavier than he would have expected a woman to carry. He’d mention it to Julia when he saw her next.

“Would you like some help with that?”

Isaac barely had time to reply before the flour was lifted out of his hands. Hector stood before him with a small smile.

Holding his flour.

But Rosaly would have accepted help, even where Isaac would not have needed it and fumed at having to act so helpless. So he let Hector carry his flour back to the house for him – even let him place it in the corner where he kept the flour bin.

And after Hector left, Isaac changed back into his real clothing and disappeared into the woods with his Chauvre-Souris to rage and plot revenge.

It was infuriating to plot against Hector, Isaac quickly realized over the next few days. Hector seemed to always be with Beni’s family, never off by himself as Isaac would have expected him to do. He sent his bird ID to spy on Hector from as great a distance as she could and he quickly found that Hector rarely ever left the small circle of land which belonged to Beni’s family. He chopped wood, helped Beni’s mother in the garden, even fixed one of the windows. All without IDs.

What had he done with his IDs? Isaac could sense them, Isaac’s IDs couldn’t sense them. It was like they weren’t even there. Where was Hector hiding them? Was he hiding them? Had Hector really been serious about leaving his past behind him, too the point of leaving even his innocent devils behind as well?

Hector couldn’t have done that… could he?

Isaac would have to know that before he could truly create his revenge. Hector without his IDs would be no revenge at all. It would be unworthy of revenge to attack Hector if Hector did not have his IDs.

But how to find out where Hectors IDs were, Isaac had no idea.

His pumpkin ID had brought him a bag of apples from the tree near the woods. What was he to do with a whole bag of apples? Sometimes that ID was too enthusiastic to be practical. But Isaac supposed he could not let the apples go to waste, not when apples only appeared once a year.

Apple butter, apple jam, apple pie. That should cover a whole bag of apples. And any left over he could give to his battle ID. The creature seemed to like fresh fruits.

Apple pie was easiest, he decided, as he already knew exactly how to do that. Pies were the same format; once you make one, you’ve made them all. So he divvied out the apples into what he would need for the pie and began to bake.

It was stuffy in the kitchen when the fire was going, and the air was still warm enough outside to warrant an open window to fix that problem. Underneath the windowsill the small rose plant that Hector had brought a month ago had grown into a sprawling bush that Isaac truly detested. He never paid any attention to it; he would have preferred if it wilted. It was all his pumpkin ID’s doing.

And so he nearly dropped the apple pie in surprise when he turned to place it on the windowsill to cool and saw Hector watching him through the window.

No wonder none of his IDs had come out to watch and hope to lick the bowl clean. Why hadn’t they told him Hector was here? Little brats.

“You look like you’ve had practice.” Hector was smiling again. Hector smiled too much now – he’d never smiled that much before. It was unnerving. “It smells good though.”

“Thank you,” Rosaly replied, setting the pie on the windowsill. “You’re welcome to have some once it’s cooled. I don’t think I could eat an entire pie by myself.”

Isaac seethed. Why had he said that?!

But Hector was still smiling and saying that he’d love to have some. Of course, that would mean he was going to be hanging around until the pie cooled, didn’t it? More inward cursing. That meant he wouldn’t be able to let his battle ID out to cut more wood. The wood box was running low again.

Still worried more about his inward fuming, Isaac missed most of Hector’s sentence, nodding demurely as he asked a question and smiled. Then Hector was gone from the window and walking off toward the yard. Wait, what? Why was he doing that? Isaac shrugged and returned to his cooking before he heard the sound of an ax through wood. Wait, Hector was chopping wood? For him? When had he agreed to that?

Well he must have at some point. Isaac shook himself and went back to the pie. If Hector wanted to chop wood for Rosaly, Rosaly certainly wouldn’t have turned him down. After all, it wasn’t normal for a woman to do such a chore.

There was still no sign of Hector’s IDs. And Isaac, as Rosaly, had seen Hector nearly twice a week for a month now. They’d even settled into what Isaac would only grudgingly admit as a routine. Hector chopped wood for Rosaly and helped her with the little repairs and maintenance of the house. Rosaly in return baked different sweets for Hector. Sometimes he brought some home for Beni’s family, and sometimes he ate it all himself.

He was always bringing Rosaly some kind of flower to plant, though he never again brought her roses. Isaac was glad of that. Petunias, daises, tulips he could stand. But more roses he would not tolerate.

None of the flowers bore any traces of a pumpkin ID’s magic. And Isaac had never sensed any IDs with Hector at all. None. It was as if he’d sent them all away.

More and more, Isaac was beginning to think that was exactly what Hector had done. He probably had even sealed his own Devil Forgemaster powers within himself; Hector was never one to do only half of something. If Hector wanted to remove himself from Devil Forging, then he would do so completely.

It would certainly explain why Hector wasn’t the least bit suspicious of him.

But it created a whole new problem for him if he was to gain his revenge. He needed to somehow twist Hector into waking his Devil Forgemaster powers and regaining his IDs. He couldn’t do that as Rosaly, but he couldn’t afford to loose his disguise yet – not with Hector appearing as he did ever first and fifth day of the sennday.

Brooding, he sent his bird ID with a message to Julia. She would know what to do, or at least she would help him figure out what to do. She had promised after all.

Julia visited him on the seventh day of the sennday. He could practically feel her smug smile as she knocked on the door.

“You wouldn’t need me visiting, I believe you said, dear sister.”

Isaac glowered at her. He’d chosen specifically today not to dress as Julia, though the blond hair still reminded him constantly of his disguise. But he did need Julia’s help, so he did not respond to her baited statement. His revenge on Hector was more pressing then a petty sibling squabble.

So he let her inside and told her all he’d realized about Hector’s actions after he left. He told her about Hector’s complete lack of IDs and forging power. And he told her about Hector’s decidedly strange behavior.

When he was finished Julia was watching him with a wry smile. “Brother, that isn’t strange. That is normal male behavior.”

“In case my powers of disguise has fooled even you Julia, I happen to be male. I know what is normal and not normal for another male’s actions.”

Julia shook her head, moving to the fire to put on a kettle of water. “You know about how males act around each other, brother, but how a male acts around a female is quite different.” She turned and pinned him with an all-knowing look. “Put simply, brother, Hector is courting you. Hector is fond of Rosaly.”

Isaac instantly denied it. He denied it vehemently. Hector didn’t do attraction. He didn’t become ‘fond’ of anyone. He knew Hector, and Hector didn’t court anyone either! He denied it even as Julia left the next day, that knowing look still on her face.

Hector brought Rosaly something other than a plant the next day that he visited. It was a rose. A silk rose. Isaac had seen the strange pretend flowers before, but he’d never seen one up close. It had a wooden stem, painted green. Around this stem’s top was circled layers of white silken petals, ornately arranged around the flower’s middle. This center sparkled in the morning light as Hector offered it to Rosaly.

Isaac had seen a diamond in only one other place before, on his Lord’s left ring finger. But he knew the stone well enough to recognize it.

He could only wonder where Hector had gotten it. Especially without any IDs.

And he began to think that he couldn’t deny Julia’s idea anymore.

Later, before Hector left, he kissed Rosaly. Held her dainty fingers that had long lost their calluses from use of the Chauvre-Souris, and ran his lips over the back of her hand.

Isaac’s mouth tasted bitter as he watched Hector smile, and somehow realized he was returning it. For Hector had kissed Rosaly. Hector had become fond of Rosaly. Not Isaac. No, Hector had only betrayed Isaac.

Hector kissed Rosaly again the next time he came, and the time after that. He never asked permission to kiss her hand – her palm, her fingertips – but he did ask to kiss her lips.

She let him. In the gathering dusk of mid fall, she let him. Melted into his embrace as their lips molded together. Smiled at him when he said she tasted like honey and apple butter.

But after he left, Isaac cursed him and spent the night alone with his Devil ID in the woods. He’d tasted no power in Hector, no devil forging skill. He saw no suspicion in Hector’s eyes. Only a blinding emotion which Hector had never needed, never used, as a Devil Forgemaster. An emotion Isaac had never been allowed to see; only Rosaly was given that emotion.

The leaves on the trees were beginning to leave great gaps on the branches when Isaac truly began to realize his revenge.

Hector came to see Rosaly every day. They walked together, talking softly, on days when there was nothing that needed to be done. He weeded her garden, much to the dismay of Isaac’s pumpkin ID, and chopped her firewood, which caused Isaac’s battle ID to grumble. He fixed part of her roof when it broke, which would have been the job of Isaac’s Devil ID.

He kissed her in the evening twilight, kisses so sweet that Isaac began to loathe them. They were not for him. They were for someone who did not exist, someone so sweet, so innocent, that Hector wanted to protect her. He wanted to shelter her – he would never betray her as he had betrayed Isaac. It made Isaac wish he could kill Rosaly.

So he did.

It did not take much to create suspicion in the village. Isaac’s mage ID followed him invisibly into the village commons, maintaining an illusion for Isaac’s true hair color. The small tavern was always open and crowded – there were many sorrows to drink away for most families who lived here. It took only a few drinks and some well placed words to get their minds thinking.

Rosaly, who had appeared one day from out of nowhere inside a house no one had seen being built. Rosaly, whose house had glass windowpanes when most village houses hardly had windows. Rosaly, who lived at the edge of town and never interacted with anyone. Rosaly, who paid for food with coin where other villagers barely had enough extra produce to barter with. Rosaly, who saved the life of a girl who the best healers in the countryside had proclaimed lost to their skill.

Rosaly was obviously a witch.

Isaac briefly felt a pang of sympathy for Julia, who would have to leave the area. She too would be under suspicion if word spread that there had been a witch in this village. If there was a witch in one village, why not in every village. Isaac knew how these hunts started.

And he watched in glee as the witch hunt he’d started grew in fervor.

They came for Rosaly on a calm fall night, only hours after Hector had gone back to Beni’s house. Isaac was informed of their arrival long before the pounding on his door, and he was not in the house when the door banged open and Rosaly was seized. His sister had created a doll for him, one who would die in his place, a Rosaly for him to kill.

He watched from behind his hair – its true color restored after hours of washing – as they hung her from the largest tree in the town commons. He grinned as Hector arrived, too late to save her life, and watched the body sway back and forth with the wind.

He left before he could see the rage burn in Hector’s eyes. Before Hector began to question the villagers, before he would find out the description of the one who had insinuated Rosaly was a witch. For he knew Hector would track down Rosaly’s killer. His guilt, his misplaced love, would force him to do so.

And Isaac would be waiting, Chauvre-Souris in hand, for that moment. Hector would be driven to take his revenge, and Isaac would steal it from him.

Perhaps, just before Hector eyes lost their luster, Isaac would tell him the truth about Rosaly. And truth, Isaac knew well, smelled of burnt roses.

FIN