They loved the autumn. He would throw up a handful of leaves, and she would dash among them, darting between them or jumping to catch one, changing forms with every turn—a fox, an ermine, a cat, a long-haired dog, always something different, always something the colors of fall. They would play until Bren’s cheeks were as ruddy with seasonal chill as his hair, leaves caught in his red curls and laughter sparkling in his blue, blue eyes.
Della settled the day they found out they were chosen, one pair of three, to go to the big magic school in the capital city. A big, honey-gold dog with long wavy hair, like Bren’s but lighter than his auburn waves, a blocky head, amber eyes, and the same dopey smile that all big dogs have when they’re excited. She jumped up and put her paws on his shoulders, the same height as him, and wagged her tail as they spun in a circle, the picture of adolescent happiness and excitement.
……
He was neither the first person in their class to have settled nor the youngest, but of the trio of pairs from Blumenthal he was both. Astrid and Annika were the oldest, with Edowulf and Cecilia in the middle, and neither dæmon had settled yet. But it was ok; it was just a sign of a precocious mind, and Bren, with his picture perfect memory, was definitely precocious. Besides, it wasn’t like Della had settled strangely early; he was just a little ahead of his classmates. And Master Ikithon liked a precocious mind, a mind just a little ahead of the rest. The other teachers liked Bren and Della, sure, but Master Ikithon? He favored them. When Annika settled as a beautiful snake, white with gray markings along her back and scales above her eyes that looked like eyelashes, he started to favor the two of them, as well. And again, when Cecilia settled as a canid with light dusty brown fur and darker stripes, he joined their little fold of favorites.
So it didn’t come too much of a surprise for Master Ikithon to offer to privately tutor the three of them. Of course they were the ones he and his stoic blackbird would choose; it was inevitable, really.
They went into the forest, sharing smiles and plans for brighter tomorrows, for the good and glory of the Empire.
……
Their studies went well, and Bren and Della learned to use their appearance to their advantage, gaining people’s trust with Della’s dopey big dog grin and Bren’s winsome charm. They quickly gained the favor of Master Ikithon, even beyond their classmates. Bren and Della were the favorites, the charm, the face of the operation; Astrid, Annika, Wulf, and Cecilia were the support. They had a routine, a plan, a system.
Bren would talk to, charm, or even suggest their target into going along with the six of them. A smile, a wink, a swish of Della’s plumed tail. Astrid and Annika would smile from behind, poised beauty and sweet poison on their tongues to aid where necessary. It worked every time.
……
The crystals were to improve their magic; the training and testing of the limits of the bond between human and dæmon was for their benefit and to make them stronger; the occasional brush of a large, calloused hand through fur or along scales was a rare show of approval. It went against everything they had ever learned (never touch another’s dæmon for it is a violation on their soul and your own), but Master Ikithon was sparse in his displays; a hand on the shoulder and a pat to Della’s head with a curt, “Again, Ermendrud,” were as close to a warm smile and a hug one might receive from a proud mother as one would get from the man.
And when Master Ikithon would run a hand along Della’s ear and a white-hot flash of wrongpaindisgustno would hit them, but he would look at them and tell them that they had one more break to spend with their family before they were ready to graduate and make the Empire proud? Then they could push past it like Bren had learned to cast with Della rooms away, with knives both flame-hot and plain digging into him.
……
Della sat with her head lifted high and proud by Bren’s side, as sure as him until her ears, keener than his, caught the first sign of screams from inside, the keening howl of their father’s shepherd dog. She stood, pacing towards the house with her tail down, then looked back at Bren, confusion and pain in her eyes.
Their mother’s sparrow, usually so lovely in voice, could be heard screaming, hoarse from smoke. Bren took half a step and was caught by Astrid.
Their parents and their dæmons’ screams continued until the thatch roof collapsed under the fire, the hissing and crackling of elemental fury drowning out everything.
Bren fell to his knees. Della threw her head back into a keening howl as he dropped his head forward. They lost themselves to the pain as their parents lost themselves to the fire.
……
He doesn’t remember Her losing Her form; it’s just the way it is. She is as drifting as He is, but always small, always close. They flinch away from others coming too close, too far into Their space. Everything is pain and drifting and She is always too far away, even when She’s curled atop His heartbeat and He wonders why She cannot be closer.
Until the woman comes and touches Him and clears the clouds. He draws away from her, but she follows slowly, making soothing noises like gentling a spooked horse, and lightly brushes her hands against His face. He freezes, and time comes back to Him.
Of course, because Ikithon left it on Bren, there was a present for whoever released him from it; she was not lucky enough to escape it.
But Bren and Della were themselves again. They waited until they had a clear shot, and made their break by night.
……
Della settled for the second time when they knew they were clear of the asylum. She was small, and beige, and had a long nose, long tail, and big ears.
“A rat?” he asked. She climbed onto his shoulder from where he was holding her in the palms of his hands.
“A rat,” she agreed softly, and said no more.
……
They’d had many names by the time they landed in the prison cell with the little goblin girl with the strange hedgehog dæmon. But they had no way of knowing how important the ones they gave, Caleb Widogast and Adelaide, would become to them. At the time, they gave the first names that they could think of before keeling over from lack of blood. As Nott scuttled over, all concerned noises and skittering claws, Bren—now Caleb—couldn’t help but think of his mother and her sparrow before closing his eyes.