Morning arrived with the reluctant warmth of a sun that clearly judged everyone beneath it.
Aiden groaned awake.
He didn't rise like a heroic protagonist greeting adventure.
He rolled, grumbled, pulled the cloak over his face, and briefly considered going back to sleep forever.
Unfortunately, being alive still required participation.
Birds chirped.
Grass moved in the breeze.
Something small rustled nearby. He twitched.
"Not rabbits," he mumbled threateningly. "Don't you dare be rabbits."
Silence.
Good.
He pushed himself up, eyes half-open, hair somehow a mess despite being magically perfect the day before. He stretched, spine popping like a row of castanets.
Then the thoughts began.
Yesterday.
Magic.
Consequences.
Investigator.
Fae teacher.
Responsibilities.
Possible eventual death.
He sat there quietly for a moment.
"...I forgot something, didn't I?"
Aiden stared into space.
The realization hit him like a brick.
"Oh COME ON—!"
He turned sharply.
The fae was there of course. Floating politely. Elegant as ever. Arms lightly crossed. Eyes faintly amused. As if he'd been present the entire time simply waiting for this moment.
Which, knowing him, he probably had.
"Good morning, young Aiden."
Aiden stared at him.
"You mean to tell me," he began slowly, "that I have spent all this time with you—nearly died, nearly got arrested, nearly got emotionally crushed by cosmic morality—and I still don't even KNOW YOUR NAME?!"
The fae blinked.
Then smiled.
Warmly.
Dangerously.
Like a loaded compliment wrapped in silk.
"You did not ask."
Aiden squinted.
"I feel like that's something you tell a person! There should be… there should be a NAME EXCHANGE RULE. Or a teaching contract. Or a student handbook. Or literally ANYTHING!"
The fae looked genuinely thoughtful.
"A student handbook would be adorable."
"That's not—" Aiden stopped. Rubbed his face. "Okay. Fine. This is on me. I'm asking now. Officially. Properly. Sincerely. Emotionally prepared."
He took a deep, overly dramatic breath.
"What is your name?"
The fae studied him for a moment.
Then, with a small breath, he straightened, every inch of him settling into something older. Something grander. Something less like a smug floating immortal pest and more like a being the world itself took careful note of.
"My name," he said with calm dignity, "is not given lightly."
Aiden froze.
"Oh no–"
"It is carried," the fae continued, as if reciting something ancient, "through the Courts of light and shadow. Spoken in halls where truth trembles. Held carefully between respect and fear. Names, Aiden, shape power. And power shapes destiny."
"Okay," Aiden said weakly. "We're having a moment. Cool. Sure. Go on."
"The Seelie Court calls me with honor.
The Unseelie Court calls me with a smile that should concern wise men.
Demons have cursed my name in seven languages and still owe me favors.
Angels have spoken it in carefully measured tones and stepped aside.
Genies have written it in contracts and refused to erase it.
And dear child…"
The fae leaned in slightly.
"Most mortals never hear it and keep breathing comfortably."
Aiden swallowed.
"I'm already uncomfortable."
A faint, rueful softness touched the fae's gaze.
"And yet… you are my student."
He lifted a hand.
Gently.
Almost tenderly.
"And a teacher must trust the one he guides… at least a little."
The air seemed to lean closer.
The world seemed to quiet.
The breeze paused mid-thought.
"My name," the fae said,
is—
He smiled.
"Not for today."
Aiden choked.
"I– EX– WHAT– YOU JUST– YOU BUILT THAT ENTIRE ATMOSPHERE FOR NO REASON?!"
The fae laughed.
Not mockingly.
Not cruelly.
Bright.
Alive.
Ancient joy in sound.
"A name is earned, Aiden. Or discovered. Sometimes both. And occasionally, terribly, beautifully… it is only learned when it hurts to know it."
Aiden stared. Jaw slack.
"So I'm just supposed to… call you 'hey weird cosmic teacher man'!?"
"You may call me Senior," the fae said pleasantly.
"I hate that that fits."
"I know."
He floated upright again, composure returning.
"Now. Today will be busy. The world has learned that something unusual happened. Curiosity has left its bed. Interest has begun walking. Suspicion has sharpened its boots. We should move."
"Move?" Aiden blinked. "Already? Can't we have, like… a calm day?"
The fae considered this.
"No."
"Figures."
Aiden stood, brushed himself off, and slung the miracle-clothing cloak around his shoulders.
He paused.
Looked back at his teacher.
"…Senior?"
"Yes, Aiden?"
"Are you going to tell me one day?"
The fae's expression softened in a way that almost—ALMOST—felt parental.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"It will just… matter when I do."
Aiden nodded slowly.
"Then I'll earn it."
The fae smiled.
"Good."
They began walking.
Far away,
in places where reality was paperwork and stars whispered about interesting mortals,
something noted the boy
and the fae
and their path together.
A wish slept somewhere nearby.
And it was not going to be kind about waiting.