#he’s very lancelot trying very hard to be good precisely because he isn’t

[mummer]

was never that intense of a ten fan…. something too intensely likeable about him. bounces off. like he was built in a lab to be appealing and fun. exceptttt when he gets hypocritical and arrogant and evil cause you see the mask drop and you’re like… ohhh it’s a mask. it’s calculated….

[teamxdark]

He’s Not Here

More masquerade content but what’s this at the end???

In the grand castle ballroom, surrounded by soft golden light and the countless nobles clad in shimmering fabric, King Arthur was so bored he could cry.

This wasn’t what this night should have been; it was a masquerade party, an opportunity to hide away his identity and mingle among the people 一 okay, the nobility, but he would take what he could get 一 like he was a person instead of a king. Finally he had a chance to dance around until his legs ached, to eat food without worrying about the repercussions to his image should he dare speak with his mouth full or use the wrong spoon, to hold conversations that weren’t about politics or finances or how he was doing the best-or-worst job looking after an entire kingdom with a myriad of people with different needs and opinions. 

So how was it that, out of everyone in that room, he was stuck listening to some dull-voiced stag drone on and on about the rising price of grain?

“This is why pricing is tricky, you have to account for the pests before you ship it out and…”

Arthur fought the urge to dash away, but the instant he tried, he knew he would give himself away. His speed was renowned throughout the land, alongside his golden armor and brilliant blue spines. Those, at least, he had taken care of; Merlina had spent the better part of an hour adjusting his coloring to a warm orange and growing out his spines to disguise him beyond the limits of a simple mask. She had tried so hard to give him a chance to have a night off without people instantly worrying for his favor or trying to get something from him… only for him to be trapped all over again.

Arthur would have happily made an excuse to leave, if the stag would only let him get a single word in. His conversation “partner” seemed not to need to breathe, droning on and on in an endless monotone, offset by the cheerful music and bright lights and flashy costumes.

I’ll never be free of this.

“And now that the price is rising, it leaves me in a strange spot, you see. On the one hand, I sympathize with the people who cannot afford my wares, but on the other hand, it means more profit for myself and my own family.”

Chaos above, Arthur wished he hadn’t bumped into this man. His fingers tapped restlessly against his leg, mildly quelling the urge he had to just flee, to drop everything and everyone he had ever known and flee into the night and into the unknown.

“Not to mention, the cost of labor--”

“Mind if I cut in?”

Arthur’s head snapped over to the new voice, endlessly relieved at the interruption, though the stag continued to drone on, the odious voice still grating his ears even as the king faced the bold newcomer.

It was a tiger clad in elegant black clothing with silver accents, extending a hand out to him, and even though Arthur was eager to take it and be whisked away from this living nightmare, something about him made him take pause. His eyes took in the white fur streaked with blue, the slowly flicking tail that reminded him of Sir Percival 一 was it common among all cats? 一 and the eyes looking gently back at him.

He trusted those eyes. It was the look that they held, a look that reminded him of… 

Arthur mentally slapped himself. He’s not here, he reminded himself as he finally took the hand offered to him.

“Yes, please.”

The tiger seemed to brighten just a fraction at his approval, and he led him away from the trappings of boring conversation to the dancefloor, and Arthur had to try hard not to think about how this felt like being rescued by a knight. Especially not…

He’s not here.

The king was jostled from his thoughts as his new partner started to fit him into a hold, and a brand new anxiety washed down upon him as he tried to remember how to reciprocate the hold. Dancing lessons had never been high on the list of priorities when it came to running a kingdom, and yet somehow Arthur was expected to be able to social dance like a pro when his days were filled from dawn to dusk with meetings and drafting decrees and submitting notices of approval until he passed out on his bed. Arthur swallowed, trying to remind himself that stumbling during a dance was still preferable to listening to that one-sided conversation…

...but his partner didn’t dance like a professional. Well… he did, there was no denying his grace and timing, but he didn’t dance like he expected Arthur to be one as well. The steps were simple, the turns basic, and Arthur’s mind swam in relief as he realized that, somehow, this stranger was leading him through steps that he had managed to pick up on through trial and error.

This chance encounter was proving to be everything he needed.

The stranger led him carefully around the floor, maneuvering slowly around other people rather than weaving expertly between them like so many other couples did. If Arthur closed his eyes, he could easily pretend that he was practicing his basic steps with his brother, or his friends, or his--

He’s not here.

And yet…

Yet it was so easy to picture it, even as the peals of laughter surrounded him and washed into his subconsciousness like a spark of delight for him to enjoy. The strong hold, the careful footwork, the calculated rhythm…

Lancelot…

Arthur’s eyes opened, and though he saw stripes they were the wrong ones, and the bittersweet feeling of missing someone dear to him almost caused him to heave a sigh.

He had it bad, and he knew it. His greatest knight and closest ally and dear friend… Sir Lancelot was beyond compare. From questing as youths to his coronation, and in every disaster thereafter, Lancelot had been there, his pillar of strength in a tumultuous world, always standing nearby to passionately defend him or to spare him a quiet gesture of support. Lancelot had protected him from danger, defended his honor, strived to keep his spirits up for years and years…

Arthur had never considered himself one for romance, but as years went by, Lancelot had claimed more and more of his thoughts, attention and affection until the knight unknowingly held the king’s heart firmly in his hands. Too many times to count had Arthur been struck by the urge to grasp his hands, to sing out the words in his heart to him, to draw him close and see if he could make such a powerful knight’s knees buckle below him with a kiss alone…

One song changed into the next, and Arthur, too swept up in his fantasy, didn’t let go of the stranger, didn’t notice the slight lull in their dance, and so the dream kept going.

Lancelot wasn’t there, but Arthur could lean into this stranger’s hold on him, follow his dance, focus on his attire, concentrate on the energy he exuded, energy that reminded him so strongly of his Lancelot, and Arthur’s mind could so easily turn his dream into something more substantial. An illusion for him to drown in, just like this masquerade offered.

The music kept swelling, the sweet notes tickling his ears and driving him even deeper into his dream like he was in a trance. He kept dancing with the man that reminded him so much of his beloved that a second dance turned into a third, and Arthur clung on to his dream, not even registering that it might seem strange until--

“I mean no offense, but surely there are others who would want to dance with you?”

Arthur blinked, and the dream shattered as the man in his arms shifted back into a stranger. The king’s feet stilled, his gaze dropping to his feet. Arthur had to fight back waves of embarrassment and disgust at himself before he could answer.

“Forgive me, but the way you dance…”

HE’S NOT HERE!

“...it reminds me of someone dear to me.”

“O-Oh.”

His companion seemed at a loss, and Arthur held back another sigh, counting the beats in his head before pulling him along for the next dance, leading him in a very basic, repetitive step around the floor.

“I apologize,” Arthur murmured, knowing that there wasn’t much he could do to salvage the situation. At this point, he could only offer his apologies and an explanation. “I know it’s not fair on you, to imagine you are someone else, but…”

A look of hurt passed over his dance partner’s face, and goodness, even that reminded him painfully of Lancelot.

“...but you remind me so much of him.”

Arthur’s eyes swept over his partner, taking in the paradoxical way that he looked completely unfamiliar and yet he still somehow managed to feel so much like his dear knight. Perhaps the dream hadn’t fled from him quite yet, because now Arthur’s yearning mind was searching for any and every chance to convince himself that this was, somehow, Lancelot whom he was dancing with.

“You dance like he does,” Arthur thought aloud, as his partner remained silent. “Careful and precise.”

Your movements… I know them like I know my own.

“Pardon my asking,” the stranger returned, “but why do you not dance with him tonight?”

Like a weight to his soul that would never truly leave, Arthur’s melancholy came back to embrace him. “Ah… he isn’t here.”

He’s not here he’s not here he’s not here--

“Or at least…”

Arthur looked into the stranger’s eyes, his desperation to go back to his dream nearly choking him with emotion as the tiger’s eyes widened at the sudden look directed at him.

“...I haven’t recognized him, yet.”

Arthur knew it was terrible to put such a fantasy on a stranger at a party, but he wanted so badly to believe that this man was Lancelot. Arthur wanted to believe the ludicrous ideas his mind was supplying him with, that somehow this was Lancelot in front of him, disguised beyond all normal means. The tiger in front of him appeared to fluster, his mouth parting as though wishing to speak, though no words came forth.

“You have stripes like he does, too,” Arthur murmured softly, thoughtfully, and yes, he truly was reaching for every last detail in his pathetic attempt to turn what he had in front of him into what he wanted to see.

“If it pleases you,” the tiger finally said as the third song changed into a fourth one, “I… am not opposed to you pretending that I am he.”

Arthur smiled at that, feeling suddenly hesitant at the idea, now that the stranger, as kind and helpful as he had been, had given him his consent to mentally transform him into someone else, to be a player in this dream of his. It was sad, and unfair, but Arthur knew sadness and injustice. He tried to battle it every day, slowly changing and updating laws as they became outdated, but everything went so slowly and people only kept crying out in pain and Arthur wanted just one day, just one, to take ahold of something that he wanted and to cherish it.

“Thank you,” Arthur whispered as he stepped further into the stranger’s hold, feeling warmth overtake him as he confessed his truth. “I have loved him for a great long time and… perhaps this is the closest I shall get to what I dream of.”

Because that was all this would ever be: a dream.

He’s not here.

Arthur’s eyes closed as his head dipped down to rest on the tiger’s shoulder, a soft smile spreading over his muzzle as he noticed that he was of a similar height to Lancelot, and the dream came back in full swing. Arthur’s arms wrapped around his partner, blocking out any consideration to the lack of spines on his back, and the king focused on his heartbeat as it hammered in and out of sync with the other’s.

“I understand the sentiment,” his partner whispered in response, and Arthur had to hold back what was either a laugh or a sob, morphing it into a hum on its way out.

You speak like him, too.

And so the king held his partner as tightly and tenderly as he would a lover, humming along to the song as the masquerade around him faded into nothing. There was nothing, nothing in his dream, but himself and his Lancelot as they spun around slowly.

He’s here. He’s here, I can feel it.

Arthur’s dream permeated his mind, overtaking his consciousness, and as the fourth song faded into oblivion, he finally let out the sigh he had been carrying all night.

“Lancelot…”

Two pairs of feet stilled as both parties realized what had just been said, and one final word jolted the king from his dream.

“A… Arthur?”

He was here all along.

[youreawizardharr]

My piece in the Cradlesona community. I decided to revamp Eirene for the last time.

The image I used can be found here.

Cradlesona credit goes to @lovingsiriusoswald

Tagging: @cradlesonanetwork

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Name: Eirene Beverly Chapman

Alias: Princess of Cradle

Nicknames:

Lady Eirene (by Blanc Lapin)

Ei (by Oliver Knight)

Renee (by the Red Army)

Mother Hen (by Ray and Fenrir)

My Beloved (by Harr Silver)

Alice (by Loki Genetta)

Age: 23

Date of Birth: July 9th

Astrology Sign: Cancer

Gender: Female

Height: 5'5"

Occupations: 

Shop Keeper (former)

King of Cradle

Affiliations: The Red Army

Alignment: Neutral Good

Family:

Maryam Louise Sommer (mother)

Katherine Anne Sommer (grandmother)

Harold Reeves Sommer (grandfather)

Erza Chapman (father, deceased)

Pet: Ginger

Paired With: Harr Silver

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Background

Eirene was raised in the Land of Reason. Or, to be more precise, in the countryside of England. She, along with her mother, moved to London to live with her maternal grandparents. Eirene helped around the house, and even helped her grandfather with his small business of selling various wares.

She met Blanc not long after closing the shop, walking home, picking up his pocket watch when she noticed he dropped it by accident. Wanting to return the item back to its’ original owner, Eirene soon realized the man had left, running off in search of him.

She eventually finds him, calling out to the strange man, but he doesn’t hear her.

Blanc vanishes without a trace, seemingly falling down the rabbit hole that appeared suddenly. Has it always been there? Without thinking it through, Eirene follows him, her long, black locks whipping violently, her blouse rustling, as she descends quickly.

Something about this place felt familiar.

A sense of deja vu overcomes her.

Eirene was surprised to learn that she was born in Cradle. Her mother being from the Land of Reason, while her father was a native to Cradle. Erza Chapman, the name of the man who gave her life, was a kindred spirit, who drew everybody in. He helped anyone in need, and would give up the clothes he wore. Erza was one of the rare few who were born with the ability to harness magic, the magical energy he possessed was far greater, due to his royal lineage. After learning about his existence, the Magic Tower murdered him by extracting his soul. Luckily, Erza bidded Maryam and their newborn time to escape from Cradle through the portal connecting their worlds.

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Personality

Eirene is independent, she wants stability, and strives to work hard so that she doesn’t have to depend on the people around her, members of both armies can clarify this simple fact as they have given her odd jobs.

She is friendly with everyone, unless they give her a reason not to be. For instance, the night she found herself in the garden, Jonah wrongly accused her of trespassing. Eirene defended herself and told him she didn’t know, promptly apologizing for doing so.

She became angry, however, when he called her a liar. Eirene told him she didn’t have a reason to lie, and that she hated it when people never believed anything she says.

Her sudden change in attitude surprised him and Edgar, both. Jonah knew Eirene was being honest, right then. Her eyes held so much emotion within them, he apologized for his accusations, but didn’t let her leave.

Eirene is kind and caring to the point that she’ll help anyone who needs it, much like her father had, regardless of their social standings, or where they are from: be it the Red Territory, Central Quarter, or the Black Territory. She’ll defend them with every fiber of her being, having morals to abide by, and despises people who believe themselves to better than their neighbors. Eirene refused to side with either army when the two armies clashed against eachother, having come to love and respect both of the armies.

She’s easily forgiving and understanding, for Eirene forgave Edgar for threatening her into joining the Red Army, and refused to hold Ray accountable for it. She understood they had their reasons, and still cares about them.

Eirene is sensitive and overly emotional. Ray and Fenrir have both commented that she acts just like Sirius at times, being concerned about the wellfare of other people and always wanting to take care of them, so they dubbed her the nickname mother hen.

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Relationships

The Red Army

Jonah Clemence ;

Eirene never liked Jonah when she first met him, believing him to be rude and egotistical. However, the more she got to know him better, the more her opinion about him changed. She admires his integrity, and makes it a habit of telling him so. She also compliments him on everything he does.

Eirene shares the same fondness of sweets with Jonah, something the two of them bonded over. She’ll go with him to the cafe whenever he’s not so busy with his duties.

Edgar Bright ;

Her instincts told her that Edgar couldn’t be trusted, especially after he forced her to join the Red Army by using threats against her.

They became friends after he makes it his mission to apologize by offering her his jelly beans as a peace offering, of sorts. Eirene forgave him, telling him she understood the reasoning behind his actions, even if he did scare her when they first met in the alley.

The two often play board or card games together, with her always being the loser. Edgar never let’s her live it down. He’s also aware she’s smitten with someone in Cradle.

Kyle Ash ;

Eirene shares many similarities with him, but wishes he could be a bit more sensitive. She values her friendship with him, and hangs out with him whenever he goes to the pub for drinks with Oliver and Blanc. The two are really close. She defends Kyle when the others tease him for his bad habit, and says she’s just as much of a lightweight as he is.

Eirene helps Kyle with his daily rounds in the Red Territory, the Central Quarter and in the Black Territory, where she meets and visits the members of the Black Army for chitchat.

Lancelot Kingsley ;

When Eirene was first brought to the Red Army Headquarters, he intimidated her. Or, at the very least, he tried to be, but she was firm against him. Like Jonah and Kyle, Eirene worries about his health. She wishes he takes better care of himself, but doesn’t try to pressure him. Though, Eirene will mother hen him into eating something light on his stomach, much to his utter surprise.

Eirene usually helps him with his paperwork, the typical work of a secretary (only if he allows her to help him), but she doesn’t take no for an answer and helps him, regardless.

Zero ;

Eirene thought Zero was kind when they first met. The two were kind of awkward, and barely spoke to one another. She wanted him to trust her, so she did everything she could possibly think of to get him to open up to her. They became good friends, eventually.

Neutral

Blanc Lapin ;

Eirene never blamed Blanc for the mishap of her descending into Cradle. She actually thanked him for it because she met so many wonderful people that she forged bonds with. Each and every friendship she made meant more to her anything else in her life.

Blanc knows about the secret her parents are keeping from her. Eirene is an anomaly of both worlds. Her conception has never been heard of before. It has been recorded by him.

Eirene visits him frequently for tea and cake.

Oliver Knight ;

Eirene thought Oliver was a child, and treated him as such. He immediately despised her because of it, and threw insults at her everytime they saw eachother. At one point, he unintentionally made her upset by making her believe he absolutely hated her.

To make it up to her, he allowed her to embrace him (only occasionally), whenever she came to visit Blanc every now and then.

Eirene eventually learned about his curse, but never judged him for it. In fact, she told him it isn’t something he can control, that it wasn’t his fault. She wanted to be his friend, and if he wasn’t comfortable with that, then just being around him is more than enough.

Loki Genetta ;

Her first impression: strange. Eirene thought he was strange. The way he carried himself, his mannerisms. He acted like an actual cat.

He had this strange fixation with her, tried getting her to open up to him. She supposed he dealt with people like her on a daily basis.

When he asked her to go on dates with him, Eirene rejected him politely, but said they could have fun on days she wasn’t helping Kyle, or anyone else around Cradle. Loki looked dejected, but agreed to be friends.

Their friendship continued to blossom the more they hung out together. Eirene still acted reserved, shy even. Especially whenever he dragged her to his shared home with Harr. Loki watched the spark of interest within her eyes come to life, saw the way her face lite up with a dark scarlet hue.

Eirene has an attraction for Harr, huh? Thus, a series of feline shenanigans began. There's an unrequited love that Loki has for Eirene.

Harr Silver ;

The moment Eirene first laid eyes on the reclusive man, her heart races inside her chest. It felt hotter than the typical warmer weather Cradle usually deals with. Loki kept staring at her with the most delighted expression she had ever seen. She didn’t particularly like the look he was giving her.

The mischievousness flashing within those heterochromia eyes made her nervous, and she was certain that Harr felt the same way.

The next time Eirene met Harr, Loki brought her to the Lake of Tears, where said wizard had been occupying for several hours. She sat little ways from Harr, placing her hands on her lap. The awkward silence between them was deafening, but Eirene felt content just being there with him. She attempts small talk, elated that Harr responded to her.

The third time Eirene met Harr, Loki invited her over to their house, purposely pushing her up against Harr while making excuses about having to go on an errand. The two awkwardly stood there until Harr offered tea.

Their relationship continued that way. With Loki scheming, and both Eirene and Harr finding themselves in awkward or embarrassing situations. She gets to know Harr little by little, bringing pastries or apricotes for them to share when he’s fishing. She learned he loved apricotes that day and, with Luka’s help, baked him an apricote cake and a few apricote pastries.

They completely opened up to one another, after a month passed, doing little things Loki knew were signs that Harr returned Eirene’s feelings. It took him several attempts to get them to admit their feelings to one another.

They lounged around the Lake of Tears one afternoon, Loki purposely pushed Eirene off the small rock she stood on with his magic. She ended up falling on top of Harr, their lips connecting in that moment, causing the two of them to blush in embarrassment. Loki watches them from the sidelines, grinning.

Mousse Atlas ;

The former Ace of Hearts visited Eirene days after Edgar brought her to the Red Army, bombarding her with all sorts of questions about the Land of Reason. She answered each question truthfully, and then told him she was enjoying her stay in Cradle. The two would occasionally meet in the Central Quarter for a cup of tea and pastries while he asked her more questions about where she came from. They ended up becoming such good friends. After defeating her cousin in battle, Mousse offers to be her ambassador after she reclaims the crown.

Dean Tweedle ;

Eirene has met Dean a couple of times, but hasn't tried engaging more than a few conversations with him. She does enjoy hearing him tell stories about his students.

The Black Army

Sirius Oswald ;

Sirius knows about Eirene’s feelings for his childhood friend, Harr Silver. He even encourages her to try to get to know him, but warns her that Harr isn’t used to women.

Sirius hired Eirene after the war against the Red Army. The two are really close, and completely trust one another. Eirene works for him as a volunteer (in her perspective), rather than an hourly worker. He still pays her, no matter how much she declines lin.

Seth Hyde ;

Seth immediately gotten himself attached to Eirene the moment they met. He helps her lack of sense for fashion by helping her pick out dresses, shoes, and accessories to go along with her attire. He compliments her beauty, and always wants to dress her up.

Eirene taught Seth how to stitch one day, he kept jabbing himself with the needle, and Eirene cleaned and bandaged his wounds.

Fenrir Godspeed ;

Eirene harbored a crush for Fenrir after meeting him. She thought he was beautiful (until she met Jonah), and liked his charming personality. Her crush for Fenrir eventually wore off, and she came to view him as nothing more than a great friend.

Ray Blackwell ;

In her opinion, Ray should have sent one of the Thirteen to guard her. Instead, he sent a lower ranking soldier with her to the Centeral Quarter. His decision ultimately lead to her immediate capture by Edgar.

Eirene doesn’t hold Ray accountable, and said she forgave him after the war ended.

At one point, Ray and Fenrir drags her down to mischief hell, roping her in on their pranking other members of the Black Army.

Luka Clemence ;

Eirene had a tough time getting close to Luka. With her persistence, Luka eventually opened up to her, allowing friendship to grow. She always helped him with cooking.

Eirene developed her cooking skills through him, and he couldn’t be any more prouder.

Magic Tower

Amon Jabberwock ;

Amon wanted to use Eirene for his devious plots of ruling the Land of Reason, Cradle, and beyond their country. His magic crystal reserves weren't equivalent to her magical prowess, but her magic wasn't enough to combat against the magic he stole from her father: whose soul he infused into himself.

Eirene despises Amon for making the people she cared about suffer for selfish reasons.

Dalim Tweedle ;

Eirene immediately disliked Dalim, finding his attitude annoying. When he tried capturing her by the orders of Amon, she gave him a piece of her mind and kept defending herself against his magic and the spells from the other disciples. He told her that he wanted to be the one to experiment on her, but then said Amon would be livid if he ever said that where he can hear him.

After Amon's defeat, Eirene decided to give Dalim a second chance by letting him continue working in the tower as long as Harr was the new leader if he chose to be.

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ 〈 ⏣ 〉 ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Additional Information

The beauty mark Eirene inherited from her father is a trademark of the Chapman family.

Eirene is sometimes seen carrying Ginger around, or she has Ginger in a carrier. Eirene never walks the fennec fox on a leash, despite Jonah’s insistent nagging about his concerns that Ginger might harm Pineapple.

Her favorite colors are gold and royal purple.

Her favorite dessert is red velvet cake, especially if Luka is the one who makes it for her. He bakes it for her birthday every year.

Eirene hates the aftertaste of bitter alcohol.

Eirene inherited the capability to use magic from her father due to the high amplitude for the art that passed through the Chapman family for generations. Due to her mother being from the Land of Reason, her defensive magic is extremely powerful.

[elletromil]

Magic Luck

For my dearest @insanereddragon ‘s birthday one of the most amazing woman on this earth and who I’ve had the pleasure of having in my life for the past couple of years. You’re the best darling and I cannot say enough how lucky I feel that we’ve found each other. I hope your day is just as awesome as you are and I cannot wait to see you tomorrow <3

This is a sequel to this fic that turned out to be far less smutty than I thought it would be... But hopefully you’ll still enjoy it (and now understand why I wasn’t calling on your offer to help me with said smut when I was complaining lately <3)

Magic Luck

“Are you still sulking?”

Eggsy sighed when Lancelot appeared right beside him, wishing not for the first time that he was powerful enough to somehow block the access to the Fae’s passages when he wanted to be left alone. At least Lancelot always gave him a moment to collect himself before coming to fetch him, even if it wasn’t necessarily as much time as Eggsy would have preferred.

“I am not sulking,” he mumbled and he barely resisted the temptation to shove the Fae when he sat down next to him with an amused snort.

“Yes, sure, and I’m Gazelle’s favourite person.”

It was Eggsy’s turn to snort because it wasn’t that Gazelle couldn’t stand Lancelot, simply that she could stand very few people and Lancelot was on top of the list of those she simply couldn’t. That they made such a great team every time they had to work together only seemed to infuriate her further.

“It’s just… It’s so stupid, it’s obviously a trap, I don’t see why you have to walk right in it!”

At his outburst, Lancelot’s expression became serious and Eggsy had to look away. It felt so wrong for the Fae to be anything but teasing and facetious. Which didn’t exactly help Eggsy’s glare. If the situation was that bad, he felt like he had to do his part too.

“Yes it is a trap, but with very real magic-users as bait. Harry made a promise that he would always go to our people’s aid no matter what and it is precisely what he is doing.”

“Why can’t I come with you all then?” His voice was whiny, but he didn’t care, not when the whole situation was stupid.

“Because the trap has two purposes: drawing you out before you’re ready and leaving this place defenseless. They know we’re too smart to let any of this happen but they are still trying because they are growing desperate. But desperate or not, they won’t be sending their strongest fighters tomorrow. We’ll be done with them before they can do any harm.”

Lancelot wasn’t explaining anything new, but it still stung that they didn’t considered Eggsy ready to fight besides them even after over nearly a year of training. It didn’t matter that Percival and Roxy would be staying behind with him too, he was just tired of seeing Harry go time and time again, without knowing if that would be the last time he would ever saw him.

“It feels like I won’t ever be ready in your eyes.” Thankfully, this time he sounded more like he was resigned and less like a petulant child. “Or at least, Merlin’s and Harry won’t ever go against him.”

Lancelot nodded, because that was no secret. Harry might have been their leader, but Merlin was his right hand for a reason. After decades of fighting side by side, nothing would ever make Harry doubt his judgement. Especially not when it concerned Eggsy’s safety.

“Merlin thinks you’re still immature and that you are too quick to anger.” Lancelot waited a bit to see what Eggsy had to say to that, but the Witch kept silent. That he didn’t raise to the bait was all Lancelot needed to know that for once, he was right and Merlin wasn’t. “As for I, I think Merlin is full of shit.”

That finally made Eggsy stop glaring in the distance and turn to look at him in surprise. A surprise that quickly turned to suspicion, to both his pride and amusement. It wasn’t that Eggsy was easy to trust, but it had taken him a bit to understand that sometime, even the people who loved him and had sworn to protect him could deceive or manipulate him, precisely because they cared for him.

“Don’t look at me like that, as much as I like Merlin, I am not blind to his shortcomings. He’s old and it’s been a while since he’s had an apprentice. No, if you were to ask me, I would say you are fully aware of your limitations, but that doesn’t stop you from wanting to do more because you worry.”

Something in Eggsy seemed to relax suddenly and Lancelot simply wrapped an arm around his shoulders when the young man let himself sagged against him.

“I don’t know how you do it. You’ve been at it longer than I’ve been alive, but you still seem so carefree about everything.” He sounded younger than he was, but at least, his voice had lost any of its sulkiness and Lancelot pressed a light kiss against his hair in comfort.

“The key point here being, I seem to be. Masks are useful everywhere, not only when one is spying. But to be honest, even if I do worry, I never let myself linger on it. Everyone else is doing it plenty enough that I don’t need to do it too. I’d rather remind them why we’re fighting.”

“I- I don’t think I can do that,” Eggsy said after a moment of silent introspection and Lancelot nodded, not at all surprised.

“It’s harder than I make it look like. There’s a very fine line between carefree and careless. Between reminding someone what made them laugh or making them cry because it all seems so pointless.” He smiled, but his heart wasn’t into it. Eggsy must have sensed it, because he snaked his arm around his waist so that they were now properly side-hugging.

A wave of fondness for the boy warmed him when he realised that even if he hadn’t planned on it, opening up even that little had done him a world of good. “Yeah, I don’t think what I do is quite right for you. But that’s because you’re a listener Eggsy.”

The Witch made a confused sound, but he shook his head, knowing Eggsy would feel it with how the boy had his head tucked under his chin. He wasn’t surprised that Eggsy had no clue what he was talking about. He might not share Merlin’s assessment of the boy’s abilities, but Eggsy was still young. He was far from ignorant, but there was still an innocence to him, as yet unspoiled by the war raging around them.

“Not sure how listening will do Harry any good.”

Lancelot snorted rather inelegantly at the comment. Having a confident would actually do their fearless leader a lot of good. Of course, he had Merlin, but there was a world of difference between opening up to someone because they beat you until you did and opening up to someone because you wanted to. Because you trusted them with parts of yourself that was usually kept under lock and key.

“You’re a smart one Eggsy, you’ll figure it out.”

“Not before you all leave for that bloody trap, I won’t.” Eggsy was back to being frustrated, but it wasn’t like Lancelot could blame him. Their conversation had kind of come back full circle.

“Well, there’s something else you could do to help.”

“I swear Lancelot, if you tell me something like ‘stay safe’, I’ll hit you.”

“No, no, I would never,” he chuckled. Alright, maybe he would now, just to see if Eggsy would carry on his threat, but there really was something. “Share your luck.”

He let Eggsy push him away, calmly meeting his suspicious glare.

“What do you mean, ‘share my luck’?”

“Exactly that. The trick is offering up just enough so that it will be an advantage to the one you offer it to, without becoming a risk to you. Of course, for some individual, even the smallest amount would be dangerous, but trust me, you Eggsy, you have no shortage of luck.”

“That sounds like bullshit.”

“It’s not. Why do you think Percival agrees to let us leave without him, Merlin and I? It’s because he’s giving us an edge every time we go for battle.”

“Now I know you’re having me on. Percival has abysmal luck.” No one could deny that. It was mostly small things, but it was true nonetheless. If there was horseshit on the road? You could bet Percival would walk in it. He had just made himself a cuppa? Of course he would burn his tongue on it. A bird flying right above? There would be a drooping on Percival’s head now.

“When we have to go away. Is he anything but graceful when we’re around?”

Eggsy frowned, thinking it over. It was true the first time he had noticed Percival’s streak of bad luck, Merlin and Lancelot had left for some secret mission. And he had caught himself thinking once or twice that he never seemed as unlucky whenever he was in his lovers’ company. Or at least Merlin’s.

Because he could remember that time Harry had only taken Merin along and his Mum had banned both Percival and Lancelot from doing anything, especially together. Their luck had been so bad it had been simply ridiculous. And now that he was thinking about it, she had had a rather knowing look at the time and hadn’t seemed that angry about the ruined laundry to begin with.

“You’ve done it too!” Why he said it like an accusation, he didn’t know, but Lancelot only laugh at the finger that was pointed at his face.

“I have indeed. And I probably will again before this war is over. But it’s a sacrifice I am more than willing to make when I know I am staying in a relatively safe environment while Merlin heads into danger.”

“Why isn’t anyone already doing it for Harry then?”

“Because the ritual involved requires that its participants share a certain degree of intimacy that Harry doesn’t share with anyone that’s not already partaking in such a ritual.”

Eggsy tried very hard not to, but there was no helping the blush spreading over his cheeks over the possible meaning of what Lancelot had just said. Something Lancelot noticed at once and he rolled his eyes, which meant Eggsy was probably wrong.

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not talking about sex, I’m talking emotional connection.” If anything, it made Eggsy blush harder. He wasn’t obvious to what was building between him and Harry, wasn’t blind to Harry not-so-subtle courting nor indifferent to the few kisses they had share in quiet corners, but he wasn’t used to talk about it, even in vague terms. Even his mother had only alluded to it once to let him know he could come talk to her anytime and he had felt mortified for the rest of the day.

But maybe it was time to finally acknowledge how he felt out loud. Kind of.

“So that ritual, what am I supposed to do?” Not an agreement to what Lancelot had implied, but not a denial either. As if anyone who had seen him and Harry together seriously needed either to come to the right conclusion on their own.

“It’s all about intent. You forfeit some of your future luck in his favor. Layer it on his skin like a suit of armor. How you do it is entirely up to you, but Percival and I are rather fond of skin-to-skin contact.”

This time, there was no mistaking the meaning behind Lancelot’s leer.

“You just said it wasn’t about sex!”

“And it’s not.” Lancelot raised both his hand in the air to placate him. “But there’s nothing to say you can’t have fun too. The important thing is to keep your focus and not forget a spot. Now whether or not you want to be naked during the proceedings is entirely up to you.”

But the thing was, now that Lancelot had planted the idea in his head, Eggsy knew he wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. Sure, Harry and him had only kissed a handful of times, but if nothing more had happened, it wasn’t because of a lack of desire, at least not on Eggsy’s end.

They were in the middle of a war. He considered himself lucky that he knew at all the feeling of Harry’s lips against his. But if he could have more? If Harry agreed to follow Eggsy’s lead on this one?

He was startled out of more daydreaming by the hand Lancelot offered him.

“Shall we? If we linger any longer, I fear there won’t be much time for any kind of ritual.”

If Lancelot was amused by his eagerness, at least he had the decency not to say anything. His knowing smile was more than aggravating enough.

*

It wasn’t unusual that Eggsy would come to Harry’s rooms after dinner, especially on the eve before he had to leave for battle. What was unusual, was for him to knock first instead of just barging in and dragging Harry out on a walk.

Of course, sometimes Harry begged off and they would instead spend their evening in the study, undisturbed by the house’s other inhabitants.

But tonight, neither scenario seemed acceptable to Eggsy.

Even without the knock, Harry would simply have had to take one look at the determination that was shining in his eyes to know it. And yet, Eggsy seemed to be patiently waiting at the doorstep, something expectant in his gaze. It took Harry longer than it should have to realise that what he was waiting for was an invitation to enter his room.

But then again, who could blame him? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been at his door with the intention to come in and stay. Hadn’t even realised that Eggsy might want more privacy than they had been enjoying together lately.

He stepped aside as soon as he had his little epiphany, motioning for Eggsy to enter before closing the door as soon as he had crossed the threshold.

Now, since they had made Michelle’s cottage into their unofficial base of operation -- and magically extended its interior so that anyone who needed one would have their own room -- they had worked tirelessly to ward it off against anything. Short of the Sabbath’s meeting places who had the added protection of repetition and tradition surrounding them, her home was probably the most secure of England.

But Harry was old and he had been fighting a war for longer than he cared to remember. If he was the leader of their resistance, it was because he had learned to cultivate a healthy paranoia.

Of course, he would have additional enchantments for his private room -- as well as Eggsy and Michelle’s too -- that triggered once the room was closed off from the rest of the house. For an intruder, it would have meant being crushed and hold uncomfortably in place by the tendrils of his magic he had left into the very stones of the walls.

For Eggsy, and anyone he had charmed the wards to recognize, it meant that the magic was settling lightly around him, covering him much like a blanket would.

Like always when they came into contact with each other’s magic, he watched as Eggsy seemed to lean into the invisible touch, a contented smile blooming on his lips. A smile that only widened when Harry took his hand and led him to the only piece of furniture in his room besides his wardrobe.

Merlin always sighed and tutted with disapproval whenever they stayed somewhere long enough to summon rooms for themselves, but it always seemed a waste to create more when he was never there to appreciate it.

And it wasn’t like he was depriving himself of all luxury. The clothes he kept were always of the finest make and the sheets on his sinfully large bed were both soft and warm.

For a moment, he contented himself with watching Eggsy slowly petting the bedding like he would a lazy cat, marvelling at the smoothness of the fabric. Contented himself with how both their magic, their very essence, were reaching out for each other, tangling up effortlessly.

It had terrified him at first, how easy his connection to the young man had been, how they seemed to complete each other so perfectly.

Now, it had become his personal incentive to work harder so that they could finally put an end to this war.

“What can I do for you my darling boy?” He asked after a while when Eggsy showed no sign of stopping his petting of the sheets.

As if he had forgotten he wasn’t truly alone, Eggsy gasped with something like surprise before turning to face him. There was a blush reddening his cheeks and he was biting his lower lip in unnecessary hesitation. Whatever he wanted, Harry would move the Earth itself just so he could give it to him.

“I- I want to share your bed tonight.” The vagueness was undeniably on purpose, Eggsy himself unsure of how far he wanted things to go between them, but Harry simply nodded with a smile. Even if they were to simply sleep, even if there was to be a polite distance between them, it would still feel like a blessing all on its own.

“I’d be honored.”

He cupped his cheek gently before bending to press a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. He didn’t let the contact linger between them however, his hand trailing down Eggsy’s neck, then his shoulder and his arm, until he could link their fingers together. With a gentle tug, he dragged Eggsy after him into the bed, letting go as soon as Eggsy had climbed on the mattress.

For a long time, there was only silence around them as they settled on their sides, facing each other in the darkness, but it didn’t feel heavy in any way. After all, while there was nothing wrong with words, sometimes, they were completely unnecessary.

Sometimes, a touch was all that was needed.

Magical or physical, for a Fae or a human practitioner, there had never been any real difference.

Did Eggsy’s magic brushed against his before his fingertip brushed against Harry’s cheek? He couldn’t say and honestly, he did not care. The only thing that mattered was that Eggsy knew just how much Harry welcomed any of his affection.

As one, they slid closer to one another until their lips could easily meet, the contact just as electric as ever. It was usually the moment where Eggsy grew impatient, opening his mouth to the assault of his tongue before Harry could even beg for entry.

But not tonight.

Tonight, Eggsy seemed content with lazy kisses and Harry, like with everything Eggsy wanted, let him do as he desired.

He barely noticed when he was pushed onto his back. Barely noticed when Eggsy all but climbed on top of him. Barely noticed the powerful thighs coming to straddle him over his hips.

By then, Harry had moved his lips to the virgin expanse of Eggsy’s throat and was delighting in the breathy moans he was eliciting. He wouldn’t have noticed how Eggsy had moved his hands to his shoulders, but then Eggsy pushed against him gently. Pushed away from him.

Thinking he had done anything to make him uncomfortable hurt more than any wound he had ever suffered. But Eggsy didn’t go very far and, if he was out of breath, he didn’t seem to be in any kind of emotional distress.

“Eggsy?” He still asked, because his darling boy clearly wanted something, but he would be damned if he knew what exactly.

“Shhh, just- Just… Let me, okay?”

He was about to ask him to elaborate on what when Eggsy leaned down again, but instead of finding his mouth, his lips brushed against his forehead. It felt lighter than a butterfly wing and Harry couldn’t suppress his shiver of pleasure.

He couldn’t remember a time when he was ever treated so delicately. He couldn’t say he hated it.

He had half a mind to reciprocate, to let his hands caress the length of Eggsy’s back, introduce him to new pleasures, but instead he lay where he was, utterly still, breathing all but forgotten.

Eggsy had asked him to let him and so, he would. If it meant submitting himself to a slow and sensual exploration of his own body by his beloved’s lips, well… There were very few sweeter fates, were there?

He gasped when one of Eggsy’s hand carded through his hair, fingers slightly pulling at his curls. It wasn’t enough to hurt per se, not really, but the sharp sting contrasted delightfully with the velvety caress of his lips on his skin.

He closed his eyes when Eggsy started kissing the arch of an eyebrow and gasped again when one kiss was dropped on an eyelid. This time, it was his hands that came to Eggsy’s shoulders, simultaneously pushing him away and gripping him tight.

“Eggsy.” It sounded more of a moan than an admonition and maybe Harry would have cared if only it hadn’t made Eggsy look so gorgeously proud of himself. “What are you doing darling boy?” Because this? This was more than a simple seduction. Eggsy’s magic wasn’t only charged with pleasure. It was charged with intent.

“What I can.” He looked so determined for an instant, so much so that Harry felt he could have persuaded even Merlin of anything if the Wizard had been in the room. But then, doubts started to cloud over his expression and he offered Harry a rather sheepish smile. “But only if you’ll let me. Only if you want me to.”

He could have laughed at the absurdity of such a statement, but he chose to surge up and claim his lips again instead. “Anything Eggsy,” he whispered as he kissed a path to the Witch’s ear, “you can do with my anything you please. Anything at all, as long as you are certain.” He gave his earlobe a gentle nimble before laying back down, giving him back the control of their encounter.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, Eggsy looking flushed and lost to a world of possibilities he didn’t know how to choose from. But before long, his resolve was back and he bent down to softly press a kiss above Harry’s other eye.

Now what he knew he was waiting for something more, it was easy to figure out what Eggsy was up to. And really, he didn’t know why he felt at all surprised. Eggsy had been talking an awfully long time with Lancelot that afternoon and the man had always been unable to resist meddling in affairs that did not concern him.

But with Eggsy’s lips and fingertips lovingly tracing over every inches of his uncovered skin, it was hard to summon even an ounce of anger.

And even if he had bothered with it, Eggsy’s very essence, the luck he was so selflessly sharing with him in the most pleasant of way… It would have diverted him from anything but the present moment.

What seemed like an eternity later, Eggsy’s path was blocked by the collar of his shirt and Harry chuckled at his angry groan and how he could tell that Eggsy was pouting against the hollow of his throat.

With great difficulty it seemed, Eggsy moved to the side, one hand trailing over the row of buttons that was keeping his shirt closed. “May I?”

Before he answered, he moved one of his hand to the hem of Eggsy’s tunic, an eyebrow raised in a silent question.

After a while, he moved his hand back to cup his hip, but Eggsy grabbed it before he could complete his movement. His cheeks redder than Harry had ever seen them, Eggsy lifted his tunic just enough so that he could bring Harry’s hand underneath, a moan escaping past his kiss-swollen lips when Harry pressed it warmly against his side.

“Too much?”

“No… Just- just try not to distract me.”

“I make no promises.” But he also didn’t move an inch, no matter how he craved the feeling of Eggsy’s smooth skin underneath his palms.

Eggsy took a shaky breath, his hands back on his shirt and he liked his lips with anticipation before asking again. “May I?”

“You may.” And because manners were everything and no one was above begging, not even him, he added in a breath, “please.”

Eggsy made quick work of the shirt after that, even with Harry being more of an hindrance with his reluctance to stop touching the warm skin of his hips and back even for a second. But then, his shirt was thrown on the floor with no ceremony and Harry let himself be devoured by gray eyes turned stormy blue with arousal.

He felt Eggsy’s magic settle against his skin before his palm came to rest on his chest, right above his heart.

One beat- two beats- three beats passed before Eggsy lowered his head again. But instead of his lips, it was his ear he replaced his hand with, marveling at the strong rhythm he could feel hammering away.

“It beats only for you now.” The words echoed in the dark room, an unbreakable oath. Harry was Fae after all. He could not tell an outright lie.

Eggsy turned his head so that he could whisper his own promise to Harry’s heart. “And so does mine.”

Then he went back to his ritual, driving Harry mad with the desire to return his touch a thousandfold, to show him what pleasures loving could bring forth.

But tonight, Eggsy was in control.

As for every night that would follow until he could take his rightful place at Harry’s side and lead their people to victory and peace at long last.

And so, Harry kept his own touch light and barely present, instead choosing to focus on committing to memory each second that was shared between them.

The devoted reverence that shone bright in Eggsy’s eyes as he brushed every old scar with a soothing touch.

The sweet mischief in his grin anytime he would return to tease mercilessly at a spot that had cause Harry to either moan or shiver or both.

The somewhat shy boldness of his touch when he finally reached the line of Harry’s trousers. Harry could have lost himself in the dark sea of his gaze and happily so. Would have bitten at his lower lip himself if only Eggsy wasn’t staying out of his reach.

Then, Eggsy pressed a hand against the growing bulge in his trousers with unexpected decisiveness. It shocked a cry out of his throat as he grabbed for Eggsy and dragged him back up for a passionate kiss, the Witch’s hand still trapped between them.

They broke apart only when their lungs started to burn with the lack of oxygen. “No?” Eggsy asked, bashful.

“Yes, my darling boy. Very much. But let me at least have you lips if you won’t let me have the rest of your body tonight.” He would still submit to his will if he refused the compromise, but he had to at least ask. Had to beg. “Please, Eggsy.”

And if he intertwined their magic together until they were indiscernible from one another, it was simply because his beloved had succeeded where none had before.

Gone was his fabled self-control, reduce to nothingness by the tentative caresses of a young man who had just started to learn how to love.

But he couldn’t feel bad, not when Eggsy offered him his lips readily, the sound of their twined moans of pleasure muffled into a kiss.

Then, all Harry could do next so as to not lose himself to a heady hurricane of passion, pleasure and love was to hold onto Eggsy.

And for a time, he let himself forget anything that wasn’t his beloved.