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amongthebriars · 6 years ago

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Keeping Watch || Harddox

In which this follows Burn the Heart Out. A Council Elder and an Unseelie guard play a game. They learn more than they probably bargained for.

TW: Abuse, Manipulation, Coercion, Graphic Sex Explained, Violence (from something Maddox talks about); Alcohol Consumption; Brief Mention of Drowning

@the-kit-scarlet

MADDOX:

Maddox felt as though he could finally exhale. Kit was asleep, no matter how restless her sleep seemed to be. The King would be halfway to Roheim by now. Duke Briar had finally seemed to wrangle the guards left behind in some form of order. At the very least, there seemed to be a pattern to the way they posted outside the various doors. Thank the Ancients, they all were posted outside the doors. None- barring Duke Briar, the physician, Maddox, or Clarissa, Kit’s taster-were allowed in the room where Kit resided.

Currently, the room was empty save for himself and Kit’s shallow breathing. So he knelt beside her, clumsily. He had been out of practice for a long time and it showed. But still, he folded his hands over hers and bowed his head.

The language was foreign on his tongue after so many years but he persisted.

“Ancients, keep watch over her. She is too young, too good to suffer so. She came seeking out a lost friend and found only pain. Grant her the strength to move past this. Grant me the strength to keep her safe while she recovers.”

He continued, the Owain feeling odd on his tongue. He lapsed into prayers from when he was still a sapling, relaxing into the ritual of it all.

HARLAND:

Once Oberon had been placated, Harland's reassurances uttered through clenched teeth, the Duke allowed himself to finally relax the feeling that he needed to keep everything at bay. He watched until the Unseelie king was out of sight before his shoulders sagged inward and he finally allowed his hand to unfurl from the fist he'd kept it in after he had left the guards behind.

The tremors were something he could barely control, the aching in his joints a counterpoint to the ache in his arm. The pain he felt had been a constant thrum until now, background noise to the thoughts driving him forward. Now, however, he had nothing to hide it behind. There was a profound sense of loss here, though of what Harland had no idea. There was loss and pain and tiredness, but his work was yet to be done.

Returning to the manor, the Duke positioned the guards he had allowed to remain at strategic points in the building, some outside as well, and kept them away from Kit's rooms. They were given strict instructions not to come unless needed, and the serious look on Harland's face meant they respected the order, even if they did not respect him.

The door fell shut behind him with a soft click and Harland watched in fascinated silence as he listened to the Owain falling from Maddox's mouth, the prayers he was speaking over Kit. In a quiet voice, Harland hesitantly joined along, intoning his own verses to weave between the guard’s, the Owain as smooth as Maddox's own, “May the Mother keep her, the Ancients protect her, and the Forest heal her. May the strength she needs be the strength of the mountain. May her recovery be soothed by the wind through the trees. Let the Ancients hear this prayer. Let the Celestials keep it.”

He had given many similar prayers to those Clansmen who had fought alongside him. It had been his duty, an oath he owed them as their commander, and the Duke had never believed the reassurances of High Fae were enough. Even now, with so much hanging in the balance of Kit Scarlet's recovery, he did not feel that way. Almost on autopilot, Harland unwound the bandages and medical salve he had collected from his personal stores. Ciril had given him a long, hard look when he had come to gather them but knew not to say anything. The valet knew the Duke would speak with his staff in the morning, when everyone had gotten some sleep and the threat of Oberon Aven did not loom over their heads.

At least they had listened when he told them to hide after sending the missive, knowing what would come.

“I didn't know you were Solitary, Maddox.” The Duke's voice was low, not willing to wake the blonde on the bed. She would sleep fitfully for weeks now. Kit needed the rest if she were to heal. He'd packed the wound with the salve, made sure the edges were clean and the dried blood had been washed away, and now his fingers wound deftly around his forearm, used to the motions. Still, the tremors did not stop. Harland sighed, resigned to an evening of them, and turned more fully towards the other faerie when he'd tied off the bandaging. “How is she? And you, for that matter.”

MADDOX:

Maddox did not turn to see who spoke with him until the prayers were finished, not daring to interrupt a message to the Gods with such trivial human matters. He remained kneeling by Kit’s side, one hand over hers, but turned his head to meet the Duke’s gaze. “Father was of the Shark Clan, mother was a Sidhe. They ended up giving him some ambassador title to preserve my mother’s dignity,” Maddox said, his voice hardly above a whisper. “Is knowing Owain part of the diplomat’s requirements? Or is their Solitary blood in you, too?”

“The draught did well for her. If we had not sedated her, I am sure someone would have had to break her arms to get her to let go of King Aven. She is a fierce little thing.” At this, he turned away from Kit, unable to look at her. He shut his eyes, running both hands over his face as if he was trying to wash the image from his mind. She had taken the news of her injuries much better than the news of the King’s impending departure, the physician had said. Maddox wanted so badly to throttle the man for that but stayed his hand out of respect for the Duke. He hated to see Kit’s weakness on display for so many strangers. She had worked tirelessly to create a reputation of a spitfire lover who was beyond reproach or tradition. It was better for everyone if all thought Mistress Scarlet and King Aven’s relationship was purely sexual.

Yet, no soul in the Briar estate could believe such a lie now. Not after seeing the King or hearing her howls. The truth of their relationship was etched into the shock on Briar’s face. He wanted to trust this Duke that all of Kit’s secrets would be protected here, but trust did not come easily to a man like him. He alone had shouldered the burden of all the intrigue that surrounded Midsummer’s most infamous couple for decades.

Finally, he opened his eyes and stood up and faced the Duke. “I did not realize that Dukes tended to their own wounds. Is Wisteria so poor they cannot afford physicians for you? Or are you too proud to allow someone else to tend to you?” He raised an eyebrow. “After your little stunt with the guards, I will assume the latter.” He touched the wrapped forearm gently, a nod of approval given before he let go again.

“Drinking will stop the tremors. Had an Archer once that was useless on the field unless he had a pint of ale beforehand. With the pint on board, he never once missed.” Maddox raised an eyebrow at Briar, a half-hearted smile forming. “Between your tremors and a royal visit, I think we could use a few.”

HARLAND:

The Duke watched the older faerie as he spoke, crossing his arms over his chest in a last-ditch effort to still the trembling. Usually, they did not get so bad but the strain of pain and his own stubborn will not to show weakness in front of the rat king had done a number on him. He nodded at the information, a small smile forming on his lips. "Wouldn't have known by looking at you, though you've got the Shark clan height," he murmured, gesturing to the fae as he shifted around on his knees.

Harland shook his head at the assumption, though. "I learned Owain long before I was a diplomat. My best friend was a half-Shark, like you. He died, during the war." It still hurt to speak of Arro, even after so long, but the remembrance of him was bittersweet, as was the smile that made his lips turn up tiredly at the thought of him. "There were always rumors about my mother, of course. She was never 'proper,' but I wouldn't know."

Maddox stood to his feet and could no longer keep his eyes on the blonde. Harland understood it, in some abject way, but it was still puzzling, the things that he had heard and seen. The King had acted as though Kit mattered to him but Harland had believed it was much different. It was not a love. It was a possession. The mere fact that he had been more concerned with his own needs, visiting Kit to do whatever he wished, spoke of that truth to the Duke. He would, of course, never voice those concerns. Not to Kit. But it had lingered, from the moment he had seen the king.

When Maddox turned to face him, came forward and spoke to him, Harland raised a brow and gave a tired snort. Offering up his arm for inspection, the blond spoke as Maddox looked the bandaging over. "No, just the ones who fought in a war and know how to do it themselves. I've a scar to match on the other arm. A very similar process, that was. And it was no stunt, Maziac, I meant every word and every action. Besides, he was a pompous little bastard. It was rather fun, teaching the lordling a lesson."

The information about the archer was not shocking. In fact, it made Harland laugh, quietly. "I'm sure we could. It would be well-deserved. Pain isn't the only reason I've tremors, though. I broke my hands during the war." It was all he was willing to give, now, but it was more than that. Fatigue, stress, pain. It all set the tremors off. The faint spider web of scars on each hand were barely noticeable now and rarely were they noticed but Harland knew they were there, all the same. Pulling away, he gestured to one of the rooms off to the side. "Think there's booze in there. Take your pick. I doubt you want to leave your mistress. The chairs are comfortable enough, if not the floor."

MADDOX:

“Is there anyone who survived that war without losing a friend or family member?” Maddox asked, his voice soft. His voice conveyed the condolences he would not give words to. Condolences were useless in his opinion. Let the dead rest, his mother would say, our tears will not bring them back. Keep them alive in our memories. “May they all rest easy,” Maddox said in Owain.

Maddox turned past the Duke, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I have not yet decided if you are the bravest or most foolish fae I have ever met. Perhaps both.” He placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it once before moving past the Duke to fetch a few bottles from the spare room the Duke indicated. He passed one into the Duke’s good hand and clinked the bottles together before the Duke could fully accept it. He sat down, facing Kit, and popped the bottle open with his teeth before spitting the cork onto the floor.

“Tell me, Briar, did you used to drink with your men as well as command them? Under different banners, our commanders drank with the King alone. But we found games to drink too all the same.”

HARLAND:

"Some just lost themselves along the way," he murmured, voice soft as he stared past the other man, into the fleeting light from the candles. "Some men lost themselves because they couldn't save the people they cared about. You mourn yourself just as you mourn them: in silence." It was a familiar ache, this thought, one that could only truly be shared with another soldier. There were things they had done, witnessed, carried out that could destroy bits and pieces of their humanity. That had done just that.

It was only by remembering themselves that they remembered those they had lost.

Even if it was, perhaps, the hardest thing to bear.

Harland felt his lips curl into an incredulous smile, a small thing, tired around the edges. He gave a snort at the look on Maddox's face, his words. "Probably more foolish than brave, if I'm being honest. Haven't had to do that in...decades. Didn't think I quite remembered how. But…it was for a good reason. I would do it again if I needed to." Though his voice was light, there was a heaviness in his gaze, a gravity there that Harland wished to convey even without needing to spell it out.

The sinking feeling in his gut had subsided when that mark had glowed on Maddox's shoulder, a security net that could not be breached unless the perpetrators wanted to be drug before the Queen, her Council. As it was against a member of said Council, the decision would be quick, certainly more so because he had invoked his rights as a lord. The other faerie squeezed his shoulder and Harland felt the heaviness of the touch, the weight of it as it seeped through his tunic.

The blond watched, curious, as Maddox selected a number of bottles from the spare stores, chuckling quietly when he returned with two ready at hand. One was deposited in Harland's left, and Maddox clinked them together before settling down facing Kit. Prying the cork from his own bottle, Harland did the same, stretching out a leg with a heavy sigh.

Eyes sharp on Maddox's face as he spoke, the Duke could feel his brow furrowing at the words. It was unthinkable that the men couldn't drink together. For him, that had been one of the things that kept him sane, pushed him. He protected his men, and he protected his Queen. "I did. Many a time, in fact. We lived together, slept together and ate together. It wouldn't do just to beg off to my tent and keep away from everyone. It kept them...moving, I think, pushed them forward. There were things you could talk about there with a bottle in your hand that would never see the light of day again after." Harland stared at his bottle for a moment before giving a wry grin, raising it in a loose toast before taking a long pull.

"And you? What games did you play? I am certain they were similar, if not the same, as our own."

MADDOX:

It was not a lack of understanding that kept Maddox from replying. It was the opposite, in truth. The weight of understanding- of all the experiences that burdened them- seemed to suffocate him. There were things too dangerous, too powerful to give voice to. What the war had done to both of them was something too strong already to give any further influence. He drank, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes.

“Do what you need, Briar. But I am no damsel for you to protect. I have my own charge. I cannot hide behind you, no matter how lovely a figure you might have. When we return to Roheim, Kit will need her shadow to be regarded with the same fear from before we even came to Wisteria.” Maddox sighed. “Her enemies will grow bolder and the King will inspire more with his fury. She will need me.”

“The most dangerous games there are to play, Briar,” Maddox replied, his voice gruff. “It appears we are me uniquely suited for such risks.” Maddox leaned forward, holding the bottle with both hands as his forearms rested against his thighs.

“A guessing game. Not much eloquence to it, but it never failed. You divine what you can of your partners. If you are wrong, you drink. If you are right, they drink.”

HARLAND:

The Duke noticed the silence and kept it, recognizing the importance of it. Regardless of the sides they had chosen, he and Maddox had experienced the same war. Even beneath different banners, death and destruction still wore the same face. The only difference was who carried it out. Once Maddox had opened his eyes again, Harland turned more fully to face him, bottle hanging loose between his fingers.

The remark made him grin, mischievous and a tad smug. "Ah, but you made such a pretty one, Maziac." He fiddled with the bottle for a moment, gone quiet, just watching the side of Maddox's face. He finally spoke up after another pull from the bottle. "It was not only because of Kit that I did it. If I hadn't...Oberon could harm you here just as easily. At least in Wisteria you can do what you need to protect her. Let me worry about the assassination attempts. I'm quite sure that display will bring them but that," he tapped a finger against Maddox's shoulder, indicating the thread that had receded back into the garment once more, "keeps you as safe as you can possibly be, for the time being."

Harland's eyes lit up at the prospect, taking on an interest that overrode his tiredness and his pain. Yes, he knew all about guessing games. "We played similar things. Most of the men would grouse about it the next morning, but it was good fun. But if we're playing you need to stop calling me Briar. I've a name." He gestured for the other faerie to go first, wondering what he would ask and amused by the prospects.

MADDOX:

“Would you like me to abide by formalities? I could call you Your Grace,” Maddox said, unable to contain the grin on his face or the mischief in his eyes. He spoke no further of what Roheim held for him. Let the Duke fend off the coming tide and he would be at Kit’s side through it. When the time was right, he would bring her back into the world.

“Do remind me, Your Grace, to douse myself in cold water. My Mistress always told me that men only brand what they intend to possess fully. I can only shudder at what you have in store for me,” Maddox said, taking a theatrical drink from the bottle before making a show of shivering.

He considered easing into the game, but gentleness was a clumsy thing in his hands. So he held the bottle to his lips, resting the rim against his bottom lip.

“This Black of yours. He never mentioned my Mistress to you, despite how close you are with him.”

HARLAND:

Harland wrinkled his nose at the title, glaring half-heartedly at the other faerie. "Please don't. That's almost as bad as my full title, and I haven't heard that since I was given to the Royal Knights." He hated how he'd won his place there, truth be told, just as much as he honored the virtues he was tasked to uphold. It was a fine line that he walked, shame and triumph, and he never knew how he could make up for it.

At the guard's next words, Harland looked at him with a sudden sharpness, something to cut through him if he'd been a lesser faerie. It held a truth there that Harland was afraid to say aloud. In fact, he had been ashamed to even think it earlier in the evening. Maddox was a conundrum, a challenge, and it was as intriguing as it was damning. He could burn himself on it, willingly, but Harland was much too sober and much too proud to admit it this early in the game. Instead, he would say only: "Only what you would give."

Despite the leading question and the pervasive feeling it gave, Harland rolled his eyes. "Black isn't my anything, princess. I don't own him. I'd kill him if I did. He saved my life, I consider him a friend...but no he did not speak of Kit." He mumbled a 'bastard' into the neck of the bottle before drinking a quarter of it in two, long pulls. He would need the alcohol if he was going to keep this up. He turned a critical eye to the other faerie then, eyes searching, before landing on the scar at his face. His eyes lingered for a moment, before sliding across to look Maddox in the eye, give him a small smile to show he meant no harm.

"Your scar, the one on your face. It wasn't from the war. I'd have remembered it. Not from a battlefield anyway. It was Oberon." He had been unsure of the thought when it crossed his mind upon first sight, but with the way the rat king was, Harland would not put it past him.

MADDOX:

He let out a whistle as Harland turned to him with a look that might have annihilated an army. He merely smiled and shrugged.

“Might not be yours, but you clean up his messes all the same.” Maddox held up his hand as if to assure Harland of his good intentions. “You don’t even have to drink to that one. Consider it a gift of goodwill. That and the fact I do not cut you down for that,” he said, his nose wrinkling as he thought of that damned endearment. He feared that the Duke would never stop using it now.

Maddox drank as much as he could take, before wiping his mouth. “It’s not a pretty story, ser, I do not care how much you think you might understand the King’s cruelty.”

He sighed, before lowering his voice so that Harland had to lean in and even then, his lips told the story more than his voice could. He could not bear to think Kit would hear it, but could not bear the thought of either of them leaving her side.

TW; abuse, manipulation, coercion, graphic sex, violence

“It was towards the end of the war, actually. When the King realized he would have to marry the she-wolf to win his war. He would not give up Kit. I do not think he could, even if he wanted to. He wanted her to have a bodyguard. ‘A shadow,’ he said ‘one that blends in with her own.’ “

“Of course, he wanted to ensure none would covet his beloved. So there was an audition. Seven of us, lined outside a tent, like saplings straining to catch a glimpse of a woman bathing at the river. She did not know we were watching. Not then, anyway.”

He took a drink, disgusted with himself even still.

“After, Oberon left her in the bed. She was so confused as to why he departed so quickly. It broke my heart, how abandoned she looked. He cut down any of us that he thought were aroused. Only I and one other remained. A few days later, he brought us before her. Asked her which of us she wanted for a bodyguard. I am only alive because she did not like me at first.”

He closed his eyes, remembering the way the fae’s blood splattered. Remembering Kit’s shriek.

“At the end of it all, he wanted to punish me for seeing his beloved so indisposed, but stated he could not bear to deprive his beloved’s bodyguard of an eye.”

He reached a hand to his scar.

“She was terrified of me for the first few decades,” Maddox growled. “I don’t think she looked me in the eye once those years.” He turned to Harland, huffing.

“I told you it was no pretty story.”

HARLAND:

Giving a bit of a nod, Harland shrugged as he got himself comfortable resting his chin on a knee that he'd pulled into his chest. It was almost boyish, the action, an almost comical for such a large faerie, but the Duke made it look graceful. Settling down to listen, the grim face he pulled when it began would set the tone for the rest of the tale.

He had expected something like this but...for it to be so clearly outlined, so...vile...it turned his stomach. There was something to be said for a king's cruelty, but this was not even cruel. It was barbarity at its most base form. To not only use Kit in such a manner but to brand the man in front of him, all because he had not….reacted to what had been done to her. Privately, Harland thought there was something commendable to killing the fae who had.

That was no man, to react to a woman being used in such a way, so heartlessly, so…fully. It was something Harland could not even wrap his mind around, truthfully.

And for the way he was chosen...it was no wonder Maddox did not speak of it. Why he hated that scar.

The Duke had such a visceral need then, to offer something. Not truly knowing how, Harland did what his hands wanted: to touch. Shifting around so he could free one of them, hesitant, the blond reached over and moved the other faerie's hand away from his own face, tilting it with a gentle grip on his chin so he could get a good look at the scar. A long look, and there was pain and sorrow and anger there, for Kit, for her shadow, for every pain that that rat had done to them all, Harland included. For the fact that Kit herself did not even realize…

The pad of his thumb was gentle as it passed once over the divot in Maddox's face before he drew his hand away, tucked safely around his own knees again. He looked down, eyes just hovering along Maddox's neck. Harland felt the need to say something, anything, but he could not form the words.

They had lodged in his throat, now, but actions spoke far louder, he knew. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he murmured, "It might not have been pretty, but it was true. I-thank you. It won't-" It won't leave this manor. He didn't know how to say that, not really, so he stopped the words before they began, hoping the other man could hear them.

With a sigh Harland looked back at Maddox and offered him a small, sad smile. "Have you ever heard the tale of how I came to be here? Most versions….they don't explain the truth of it but...I would share it. If you'll have it."

MADDOX:

He stiffened at the Duke’s touch, feeling as if his blood had turned to ice. Yet, he did not turn away or flinch. Merely allowed himself to be touched, even if he could not relax into such a feeling. But he did not look into the other’s face. There was something between the two of them and neither of them could bear to gaze upon it.

It was too real and too raw. It had no business existing while Kit lay on a table, fighting for her life. It had no business existing when they were on opposite sides of a forest likely to erupt into war again.

“Only what you would give, Harland.”

HARLAND:

Not many people knew the truth of how he became a knight. Much of it was shrouded in his own father's shame, the fact that he believed his son was a disappointment. Much of it Harland himself internalized but he would not be ashamed of it now.

"The first man I watched die I was 220. He was attacked by bandits, I think. He died choking on his own blood. When I got home that evening after I'd buried him, my father sneered at the blood on my hands. Told me that I'd be up early the next morning, mucking out the horse stalls since I'd begged off lessons." He sighed, picking at the hem of his shirt, lost in his thoughts. "I left instead. Went carousing. Found a noble's son at a party I was meant to attend anyway. Just wanted the thought to go away and...we were caught."

He laughed, bitterly now, at the image of it. They'd done nothing wrong, hadn't even had their trousers down, but the scandal had caught fire all the same. He picked up his bottle and swirled it around, staring without seeing as the liquid moved behind the glass. He took a drink and sighed through his nose.

"The rumors spread like wildfire, as you could imagine. My father...said I would ruin the family. That I had, probably by just being born. He gave me two choices: I left for training to become a knight, earned my keep that way, or I left. He would take everything from me, my name, my home. Everything I care about." Really, that only belonged to his mother. Idoya Briar had been the only solace her son had in this family. "Not that there was much to lose. My mother, perhaps, but she wouldn't have listened even if I hadn't tucked tail and ran."

And there it was. The fact of what he had done.

Shown his belly, given up.

"The intent was always there, to serve. But I'd not been given a choice. So I chose to fight and to learn. I hated it, but I did it. Then I was conscripted for the war. Spent a few hundred years fighting, learning to use my magic for violence...and then I was told to kill as many bloody faeries as I could with it." His voice had turned bitter then, eyes hard and his chin rested completely on his knees now, everything about his posture a shield to keep all of his most exposed bits shielded even as they were being laid bear.

"I should have died, Maddox. I almost-" he sighed, turned his head to look, unfurled his fingers to tug at the edge of his collar, expose his throat for the other man to see, the ugly scar that curled around his neck. "I paid a price for it, and I continue to. I saved my men from being slaughtered and nearly died there, too. Instead of allowing me the shame of my actions, the Queen made me one of her own."

He dropped his gaze then, curled tighter in on himself. The bottle had been set down to the floor, and Harland didn't pay it any mind now.

"The only reason I was even able to offer a lord's rights is because my father won't disown a man seated at the council. I've a daughter. If he'd known about her, gotten his way, she'd have been drowned at birth."

MADDOX:

He took a long drink as he listened. He placed the tips of his fingers on the other’s neck, tracing an ugly pattern on a beautiful man. “Your father sounds like a cunt,” Maddox said, his harshness a stark contrast to his gentle touch.

What a cowardly man, he thought, to mistreat his family so.

“Those who ask us to fight always seem to take our shame and call it a victory, don’t they? As if any bloodshed isn’t a crime of its own. To celebrate something that only occurs for necessity's sake-” Maddox scoffed, withdrawing his touch and returning to the bottle.

He wanted to be able to say something to comfort him, but there were no words. Cruel men remained in power and good men remained haunted by the things they had done for those same cruel men. Innocents’ blood was spilled without any tears to mourn them.

He did not know how to pull either of them out of the dark hole they had fallen into. Instead, they seemed to grow closer with each minute and cling to each other. He had not known how dangerous the game would be. He had underestimated the Duke again. Celestials and Ancients only knew what ruin would come of them now. But it was far too late to stop their descent now.

“This daughter. You treasure her more than anything.”

HARLAND:

Even though the touch was gentle, even though he could not feel it, Harland still flinched at the fingers on his throat. He was unused to gentle hands, to comfort given in actions, even if he was practiced in giving it himself. He had been denied such things the moment he had come of an age that his father decreed it to be so. Not even his mother had denied the edict; it was easier to acquiesce to it than it was to fight it. So Harland didn’t and neither had she. Still, the breath he sucked in and the way he tilted his head was entirely involuntary, a reaction to something he had lost and had never regained.

After a moment, a stark and shameful feeling bubbling up in the Duke’s belly, Harland ducked his head and pulled away. A laugh that broke off at the end escaped from his throat but there was almost no feeling behind it, so lost was he still in the mire of his own thoughts. It wasn’t until Maddox spoke again that he looked at him, surprised by the question.

And, then, Harland smiled.

It came easy to him, this smile, this one that the thought of Freya caused. He had never known her as a little girl, had never gotten to be a true father to her then, but he was trying now. Celestials, how he was trying. So, he nodded, took a small drink, and settled in to speak for a moment on her.

“She is all I have left of her mother. I didn’t know how to keep myself out of the Wildlands, still don’t. Quite literally ran into her when I’d fucked off from an argument with my father. She was clanless, then, but the Wolves took her in…” he stopped, hesitant. He would not reveal his daughter’s name, did not want her identity to get back to the king. It would harm her far more than anyone could ever know. He glanced away, a wry smile on his lips. “I never knew. Not until after the war. Three hundred years, and I never knew I had a daughter.”

He took a drink, realized that his tremors had subsided, and wondered at how well alcohol could cure pain. Perhaps if he drowned himself in it it would all go away.

“Her mother died just before the war ended. She’s been with me now...six years. It is...difficult. She’s stubborn. Strong-willed,” a hint of pride entered his voice even as he complained, “but she is mine. And I would kill anyone who hurt her.” He turned to the other man then, and there was a sliver of a truth there, something that had gone unsaid but was known, all the same. In some way the gravity of the situation had been lost; whether it was the booze or the conversation, Harland did not know, but they’d been laid bear for the evening. There was something powerful in that, even if it was hard to swallow. After a moment, he tried his hand at another guess.

“You wanted to be something other than a knight, once, before the war. Maybe a blacksmith, a sellsword, perhaps even a wood carver, but it never so intimately involved the king, or your mistress.”

MADDOX:

He smiled in return, glad to see the Duke smile in spite of himself. In spite of how it was safer for them to take no joy in each other’s relief.

“Family does always seem to find a way back to each other,” Maddox said, not probing any further. It would do no good to ask questions that could not be answered for anyone’s safety. It was better he did not know about the identity of his daughter. It probably would have been better if he did not know about the existence of a daughter. It was information he knew was not shared lightly.

Maddox laughed, “Drink, Your Grace. All I’ve ever wanted was to be a Knight. Wanted to protect everyone I could. Defend the innocents. Imagine my surprise when I realized how infrequently Knights were able to do anything honorable. What a bloody fool I was.”

“You surprise yourself with the tenderness you feel towards my Mistress,” Maddox began, eyes firmly on the nearly empty bottle in hands, “and towards me.” He did not dare look up to see where his words had landed.

HARLAND:

The Duke’s eyes caught the answering smile and filed it away, tucking it into the corners of his mind to keep safe. He had a feeling it was a rare sight, indeed, to see the shadow smile. Or, rather, to smile like that. “Indeed it does,” he murmured, nodding along with the words. It was truth enough.

Somehow the thought didn’t surprise him. Then again, Harland had found himself thinking many things about the other man in a single evening. Not all of them came to shock him anymore. But he huffed through his nose all the same and took a drink as he was told. He smiled when he was through, cocking a brow at the other man’s words. “Naive or honorable, but not foolish. Or perhaps I’ve yet to decide which is more correct.” It was a twisting of Maddox’s own words, just another thing he had done this evening that had twisted Harland’s gut into knots.

"I wanted to be a carver, if I'd not been a noble's son. If he had disowned me instead of bothering with it all. I honed the skill during the war but," a shrug, almost dismissive, "now it is something I do when I cannot sleep." The guard’s next guess made Harland go quiet, a breath sucked in and held there, tenuous as the frail truce they’d somehow fumbled out in the dark. But, in a way, it was not. Maddox’s eyes were downcast but the bottle still felt heavy in the Duke's hand as he lifted it to drink.

The rest of it was gone by the time he was through.

Then he steeled himself, jaw clenched, as he reached for the other faerie. If he was going to damn himself, he might as well do it fully.

Harland turned Maddox’s head with a firm, gentle grip on his jaw, dragging him closer by that hand alone, eyes searching and careful as he felt for the scar that had marked him so harshly. In a way, the thought that it didn’t matter where it had come from crossed the Duke’s mind. He liked it, all the same. His eyes held Maddox’s for a moment, a single sliver of time, before Harland crashed his mouth into the guard’s own, head angled so he could deepen the kiss if he wasn’t bit or stabbed.

MADDOX:

When the Duke went to drink, Maddox placed the now empty bottle on the ground.

Again, he stiffened at the touch. He did not necessarily want to meet the fae’s eyes. It would be better if it was dark. It would be better if they would be able to pretend this was the result of stress and alcohol. It would be better if it never happened at all. His Mistress was lying motionless, fighting for her life. Her bodyguard was drowning in a Seelie Duke’s eyes.

His stomach tightened, from shame or desire he did not know.

But his mouth opened all the same. He was growling against the other fae’s lips, his hands running up his sides and yanking him almost off balance. It had been too long since he had known anyone’s touch, but the motions came back to him all the same. A hand rested on Harland’s neck, tilting his head with a force too rough to be considered gentle and too soft to be considered firm, and Maddox began planting kisses along his chin, his ear, his neck.

They were doomed now. Might as well enjoy it.

HARLAND:

Harland laughed, quietly, into Maddox's mouth, the sound barely concealed as he felt the other faerie respond. It was something he was almost dizzy with, the response. He always was. But, more than that, it was the fact of what they were doing. There should be nothing gentle about it, should be nothing but bruises and biting kisses. Yet, Harland wanted none of that. None at all.

Maddox's hands found his sides and tugged, pitching the Duke sideways and off center, but he could respond in kind. The bottle had fallen from his grip when the guard had traveled down his jaw, towards his neck, the hand on him guiding as much as it was a force he couldn't ignore. Harland's hands itched to touch so he let them, skimming them up Maddox's back, one to grip at his shoulder and pull him closer, the other to curl around his waist and tug.

The leverage from the chairs made it easy to get the other faerie into his lap, even if it did require a bit of maneuvering. However, once he was satisfied, Harland surged upward, lips attacking the skin at the juncture of Maddox's neck and shoulder, trailing up his neck and into his jaw, lips dragging against the scar beneath them, a hand curling fingers into the fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

He'd happily pay it lip service if it replaced the look of disgust on the guard's face at its mere existence. It was the least he could do.

MADDOX:

Maddox leaned his head back. Oh, Harland would never hear the end of this. He had spent half the night with that damned princess nonsense and now he was pulling him onto his lap. He was lucky he knew what he was doing otherwise Maddox might have knocked him onto the ground. Or knocked him upside the head.

He contented himself with kissing him harder, his fingers digging into anything he could grasp.

Kit began to groan and Maddox extracted himself from Harland like he was being burned. They held their breath for a moment, but she did not wake up. Maddox ran a hand through his hair, muttering a curse.

“I’ll grab us another bottle. We need it.”

#ch: kit #featuring: maddox maziac #c: keeping watch #r: hardoxx #abuse tw #//this was ridiculously fun #//shows a side of harland that is reckless and probably a tad unhinged at this point but does he care? no not really #r: harlet

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amongthebriars · 6 years ago

Text

Sound of Silence || Harddox & Kit

In which this proceeds Collisions of Diplomacy and we get, in various turns, Harland experiencing the many aspects of what it means to watch over Kit Scarlet and her guard during recovery. Sometimes, there are worse things to do. Other times, perhaps these are the worse things.

TW: Old Men Feelings, Smut Mentioned, Violence, Blood Mention, Manipulation, Internalized Victim Blaming, Alcoholism, Death Thoughts (this is a wild ride guys)

@the-kit-scarlet

MADDOX:

Ever since the King had arrived, the Briar estate seemed to be holding its breath. Initial courtesies were exchanged briefly before the King demanded to see his beloved. Of course, Maddox was expected to accompany them. Their reunion- had a spectator been present- would have looked like they were the happiest couple in the world. Maddox knew better. He saw the way Kit flinched, attempting to hide the pain that his touches caused her blistering skin. Earlier this morning, Kit could barely sit upright to eat. Now, she was jumping into Oberon’s arms as if she was completely healed.

For his loyalty, he was rewarded with a smarting jaw that he was still rubbing when he exited the room, Duke Briar standing outside the door, looking as if he had been struck himself. Maddox did not say anything, just leaned his head back against the door. The other guards had been instructed to scatter and to cover the perimeter. The nearest guard was a good five meters away.

Maddox sighed, knuckles blanching as he curled his hands into fists.

HARLAND:

The Duke should have expected something like silence to fall over the estate the moment Oberon set foot on it again. There was always something eerie about such things, especially when the place was usually filled with a lightness that was indiscernible now. Even before Kit had come here, Harland strove to wipe away the memories that damned his life. He had tried to make it a home and, now, Oberon had turned it rotten.

He had been present when the king entered Kit's chambers, acting as though he owned the place, and it made the Duke's blood boil. He had been there that morning, as well, when the blonde had scarcely been able to eat for her blistering skin, yet now she threw herself at the pale bastard like he was her lifeline.

The sight turned his stomach.

After exchanging his cordalities, Harland had left the room to handle the guard. When he'd returned, leaning against the wall, Maddox was just exiting the room. The guard was rubbing at his jaw and Harland could see the faint outline of a dark welt already forming.

The Sidhe turned to fully face the man then, anger in his gaze, and moved the hand out of the way. Maddox was leaned up against the door and the nearest guard was down the hall. Harland had enough time to curse under his breath and examine the bruising, standing straight as he contemplated barging into the room and dragging the rat out by his hair.

The noises he could hear behind the door stopped him and he curled his lip in disgust, unaware that his hand still held the guard's face in his palm.

MADDOX:

Maddox sighed. “Do I disgust you so, Harland?” Maddox asked quietly but withdrew his face regardless of what Briar said. He turned his head away so that only his uninjured side was facing the Duke.

“You will make it worse for my mistress and I if you do what you are thinking,” Maddox said quietly, “you do know that, right? I know you want to protect us. But there are threats that no one on the outside could reduce. You are new to this world, Your Grace. We need to tread lightly.”

It was impossible to pretend what was happening in there was not happening. If the guards had been farther, if it had just been Harland and him, Maddox might have let the tears he was fighting fall. Had he been as naive as Kit? To think that the King might have been content with just visiting the woman he kept calling beloved?

He was as foolish as she was. They had been in this game long enough to know better. He began to roll his neck, fidgeting.

HARLAND:

The blond stood in silence for a moment longer, eyes boring into the door. His gaze only moved when he registered the guard's words, shock, surprise, and some profound sadness he refused to name leaking into his gaze. Maddox moved until Harland's hand fell from his face, his uninjured side presented like he was expecting the Duke to strike him, too.

"Maddox," he said, voice quiet so it did not carry but loud enough that it caught the man's attention. "No. I don't. I-" Harland stopped himself, swallowing down the words he'd been so ready to say. Handsome. Charming. Brave. But, no, not ugly. Never. Not even when he had sneered at the thought of his being an Unseelie and, even then, Harland knew he would burn himself on him if he could. He didn't trust himself to speak now, did not know if the words would slip out. He listened, instead, and knew what Maddox was saying was true.

Finally, after a long moment, the Sidhe lay a careful hand along the back of Maddox's neck, gave a small squeeze, a brush of fingertips through hair, and then dropped his hand and moved away. "I know," he said, and the admission was bitter on his tongue. It was what he did, protect. Offer himself as a shield. Be the one that took the brunt of things.

It was all he had been good for, once.

"We will. It is a promise."

MADDOX:

He heard the other man’s words but did not react. There was too much ugliness now. Too many eyes watching. He knew better than to look the part of anything but a disgruntled bodyguard, forced to break bread with a Seelie Duke for the sake of his mistress.

Still, he could not stop the chills that crawled down his spine as Harland touched him ever so lightly.

“Definitely foolish, if I had to choose now, Your Grace,” Maddox replied, referencing a much earlier conversation. From before they had begun their descent into insanity. “They have already begun to whisper. Would you mar a princess’ reputation so simply because you cannot keep your hands to yourself until later?”

There was a ghost of a smile at his lips.

HARLAND:

Despite the non-reaction, Harland felt a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, a tad smug. He'd felt the shiver that had run down Maddox's spine like it was a living thing. Instead of doing what he wanted, however, which was run a finger down the back of his spine until Maddox did it again, Harland leaned against the wall beside him, shoulders brushing. Other than the close quarters, which could easily be explained away by the size of the hall, neither man looked to be doing anything except conversing.

In fact, Harland probably looked like he'd just pissed the other faerie off.

"And what does that make you, hm?" The Duke followed the guard that walked by with his eyes, noting that he didn't look anywhere near Kit's chambers. Good, that was just as well. Canting his head to the side, Harland gave a quiet snort. "Not unwillingly, no, but a whisper is a small thing, easily ignored. Perhaps not here but, there are ways around them."

Just to prove his point, Harland flicked out one of his hands when he readjusted his stance, dragging his nails down the exposed forearm at his side, a barely concealed smirk lighting up his eyes for a moment before it was swallowed up by the ever-present mask of the diplomat, arms folded across his chest as a show of good faith.

Ignoring the sounds through the door was proving to be difficult, however, and he itched for a bottle to block out the sounds. Or, at the very least, something else to focus on.

"How do you stand it, truly, Maddox? I...it is one thing, to be her guard, to care for her even, but to...listen to this and do nothing…"

MADDOX:

He groaned softly. “You are a royal pain in my ass, Your Grace- and no, do not say anything of the sort or I swear I will knock your pretty teeth right out of your mouth,” Maddox growled. “Which would be a shame. Please do not force my hand.”

He was looking anyway but the Duke and anyway but behind him. He watched carefully, ensuring no one circled too close.

“Tell me, what would you have me do? Shall I burst down the door so my King can decide to take my eye? Or should I try to prevent him from coupling with a woman who jumps into his arms no matter how bad she’s hurting?” Maddox hissed with venom in his voice. Maddox balled his hands into fists, wishing so badly he could hit something.

“Did you know I am the oldest in the King’s employ, Your Grace? His employ is not exactly known for its absence of hazards.”

HARLAND:

The Duke snickered quietly under his breath, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the groan, the words Maddox was saying. It was about as threatening as a pup was on its first day or training. That was to say, it wasn't at all.

"You'd miss them too much, I'm sure," he returned, voice formal even with the topic. The guards who moved around the perimeter would think nothing of the sound, certainly not of the look on his or the guard's, not with what they knew was occurring beyond the door they guarded.

The Duke winced at the tone but understood that it was not directed at him, this ire, the frustration. No, Maddox cared for the woman he protected, perhaps more than he should, given who her lover was, but it was not something that bothered Harland. It did, however, explain away his irritation. Maddox had, unknowingly, answered the insinuation without a direct word on it.

Harland figured he would probably like to keep it that way, if the assumption was true. There were few more dangerous things than loving Kit Scarlet.

"Live," he whispered, surprising even himself. He cleared his throat, then, and ducked his head, fingers toying with a cuff as he heaved a sigh. "Live, Maddox. It's all I ask and, I'm certain, all Kit would want. You do no one any good buried in an unmarked grave. Which is why I'll do nothing, not here, and certainly not now. I just-"

Harland stopped himself, a frustrated whine escaping his throat before he could stop it, and he pressed a hand to his eyes, as though he had a throbbing behind them.

"I don't like...the pain. Hearing it. Seeing it. Call me a fool all you'd like but it's more than just a bruise, or a breaching of lord's laws, it's a deliberate attempt to undermine what's-" his. He drew in a sharp breath and let it out slowly, laying his head back against the wall.

How had he fallen so far in so little time?

What had he done, to prompt such a thing, to even warrant it? Harland Briar was not a good man, nor did he deserve anything like kindness. And this?

He hardly believes he deserved any of it at all.

MADDOX:

Maddox turned on his heel quickly, violently, and shoved the Duke against the door. A forearm was pressed against the Duke’s chest and to Maddox’s infinite anger, he had to look up slightly to meet the Duke’s gaze. A guard passing by drew near, but Maddox did not turn his gaze away.

“Consider it revenge for Ser Gregor, Mik. Walk along,” Maddox said, his voice gruff. It was a testament to how brazen Aven’s guards were that he did indeed walk along as an Unseelie guard had a Seelie Duke pinned against a wall in his own home.

“Do not speak to me of what Kit wants. She’s a woman courting disaster at every turn. She ran from the arms of a mad dog into the arms of a mad fucking king,” Maddox’s voice was barely audible and he was trembling with a fury he had not realized he had possessed.

“For one hundred and six years, I have been trying to do exactly that. And in a few days, your court has undone it all. You think you can save us, Your Grace? My death warrant was signed the moment Balthazar fucking Black raised his hand against Kit and I could not protect her. Maybe the King will keep me alive until I have outlived my use, but from that moment forward I have been a dead man walking. You cannot shield me from this. Just as I cannot shield her from him.”

Maddox groaned, withdrawing sharply as he shoved the fae further away from him. His hands went to rake across his scalp. “The pain comes with the territory, Harland. It is only a temporary living arrangement. We will go back to Roheim. You can pretend whatever you like once we have gone. But I beg of you, do not pretend there is a way to protect us once we leave this estate. I am far too old to be filled with such ideas. And she is far too injured.” The moans from the room grew into a crescendo and Maddox thought he might burst.

“I can live with bruises. I can live with all the rest.” But I cannot dare to hope for something more than this, surely you know that. I can only hope what the Nighthawks have learned was useful and that I can bear the brunt of Kit’s pain. It is too dangerous to dare for anything else.

What he would give to be alone with the Duke, away from prying eyes.

HARLAND:

Somehow, he was hardly surprised anymore that this is where he'd land. It had been his lot in life since he'd met Balthazar Black, perhaps even before. He bore it well, all things considered.

The breath rushed from his lungs as Maddox slammed him into the wall, a forearm pressing into his chest, back against the wall. His fingers twitched, an immediate reaction to a threat, but the Duke didn't do what they wanted, this time. The guard was not going to hurt him as angry as he was, as pained.

Harland deserved this, if anything. It had been a long time coming.

Another guard attempted to come closer and Maddox sent them off as easily as one would swatting at a fly. If they were anywhere else Harland would have been impressed. But, now, he was just filled with regret, with sorrow. He knew, in some way, that the other faerie was right. And, yet, Harland wished he wasn't, even still.

The Duke sucked in a breath, eyes never leaving Maddox's face, and his hands were careful where they fell, fingers curling into the bottom of his tunic, just at the edge of the leathers, and the other around his collar. To anyone looking, Maddox would have looked to be caught just as Harland was.

When Maddox pulled away, Harland stayed, caught against the wall like an animal in a trap. Watching Maddox felt like being stabbed; hearing the moans of pain and pleasure behind the door only made it worse. Raking his eyes over the man told the Sidhe all he needed to know. Surging forward off the wall, Harland caught him by an arm. The guard nearby watched and the Duke affected a sneer, anger there that he did not feel as he growled something. His eyes, they would tell you the difference. It did not reach the eyes.

And his words held nothing he meant.

Harland's pace was quick, maneuvering them a hall away. They could still hear what came from the room. However, they were far enough away that it could be drowned out by the closing of a door. It was what they needed against their frayed edges, now, a balm for the pain and the anger. The Duke leaned against the door for a moment, breathing before he let his mask fall.

Moving forward, hesitant, careful, he took Maddox's face into his hands, tilted it to make him look. He studied the man's face, held his gaze, a thumb rubbing along the scar at the side of his jaw. "Your death warrant was signed the moment you became her guard, Maddox, but that doesn't mean I can't try. Kit would want you to stay as safe as you can. You know that. Regardless of who she's run to, you've been there. For everything. You know I'm right."

He let out a slow breath, a stutter more than anything. Breathed in, let it out. He did this again and again, a pace for Maddox to set his own to until he'd calmed himself. Until it calmed Harland, too.

"My court may be to blame, but I am trying to rectify that mistake, for more than just that reason. You might be able to live with her pain, but can she live with yours?" A finger traced the bruise along the edge of Maddox's jaw and Harland sickened at the thought that crossed his mind. "We'll glamour it to look worse. But you're putting something on it. It would be small, nothing to be noticed. They think I'm angry. So let them believe it." He smiled slightly, a boyish grin for such a grim situation, "at the very least it won't ruin your reputation."

MADDOX:

Maddox held his breath as the other fae rubbed his jaw. He was far too angry to be feeling any of the things he felt right now. But still, the feelings persisted. In another room, his King was making love to a woman whose skin was barely able to tolerate any movement without nearly blacking out from the pain. In here, he felt as if he was being torn asunder. He had no business feeling anything but hate for a Seelie Duke. But still, the feelings persisted.

It was far too dangerous to kiss a Seelie Duke when King Aven was in another room. But still, Maddox crashed his lips against Harland’s with a ferocity that he could not entirely control. He pulled Harland into him, slamming his back against the door. Maddox’s hands were far too eager, tugging at hems and slipping under tunics. It was gluttonous the way his hands were devouring every part of Harland they could touch.

He pulled his lips away from Harland with a slight groan, nuzzling his face into the crook of the fae’s shoulder. His teeth were grazing against the hard flesh there and he let his tongue dart between his lips. Harland was salty on his tongue and Maddox thought he would never get enough. He began to work his way up his neck, alternating kisses and barely there bites near his earlobe.

“Do whatever you want then,” Maddox said, his voice hoarse, “just stop talking. Please.” His voice was breaking and he hated himself for it. He placed a hand on Harland’s jaw, tugging him until their lips met again.

He could not help the tears that stung at his eyes and responded by kissing Harland harder as if he could drown out all his pain and sorrow by burying himself into him.

HARLAND:

As Harland watched the guard's face, he saw something there that he thought that, perhaps, he was not meant to. Or, perhaps, he was being allowed to. There was an anger in Maddox's face, something so deeply penetrating that it could swallow someone whole if they allowed it. But, alongside it, there was sadness, frustration, indecision. All of it swirled in the dark depths of the Unseelie's eyes before Harland found himself consumed by the violence of him.

Maddox surged forward as he tugged the Duke in, mouth crashing into his with a ferocity the blond had not yet witnessed. His back hit the door and he thanked the Celestials that the wood was thick, that the hinges were good, and that they made little noise. The force behind the action had the Duke gasping out a breath, the air stolen by Maddox's mouth as he devoured.

Harland's skin prickled at the feeling of hands on him, skimming and clawing at skin like he was a drowning man, rucking up Harland's tunic and sliding beneath. The groan that escaped the Duke's mouth was deep, guttural. He pressed himself closer, then, a hand curling first at the base of Maddox's neck and then dipping lower, skimming fingertips just beneath the collar of his shirt. He responded to the mouth attached to his, flicking out his tongue to lick at the seam of the other faerie's lips, seeking an access that only Maddox could give.

When Maddox pulled away, face nuzzling into the skin at Harland's neck and shoulder, the Duke's head fell back against the door, hips angling to press into the other man's with another, low groan. He dropped the hand that had remained at the guard's jaw and found his hip instead, tugging him as close as their positions would allow. After a moment to breath, Harland pushed forward, teeth catching at the underside of Maddox's jaw. He dropped small, light kisses to the skin, traveled down the shoulder as the angle allowed, teeth hooking into the muscle on one particularly hard kiss.

When they were seperated once more, Harland's chest rose and fell quickly. The utterly wrecked sound Maddox made as he spoke, the way his voice broke, felt like something sharp had pierced his chest. He could only nod as the guard tugged at his jaw, could only follow as Maddox began to kiss him again. The wetness on Maddox's cheeks startled him but the hand that Harland had reached up to tangle into the short depths of Maddox's hair wiped them away.

The Duke broke the bruising kiss after a moment, angling his lips up the side of Maddox's jaw, across his scar, resting just below his ear. Head bowed, Harland licked his lips. "What do you need, Maddox?"

MADDOX:

He wanted to melt into his touch as he felt Harland wipe tears away that he was too proud to admit were his own. Every fiber of his being seemed to be coming alive, twitching and vibrating with an energy and a life of its own. He could not quite catch his breath and he was positive that at any given moment his heart would beat out of his chest.

He could barely hear what the Duke was saying over the pounding of blood in his ears. He only knew that for all he said he needed Harland to shut up; he would have happily listened to Harland speak forever any other time. But they were running on borrowed time and there was still more of Harland he wanted to commit to memory.

“I was hoping you would know,” Maddox replied, his lips first pressing against Harland’s temple before meeting Harland’s lips. His hands were trembling now- anxiety or desire?- as they slid down the man’s torso. His thumbs rubbed near his hips, asking for an invitation to keep going.

HARLAND:

The hand Harland had curled around Maddox's hip tightened minutely, tugged at him to move him, to get him standing between Harland's thighs. There was a moment where the Duke shut his eyes, the feeling of lips at his temple almost overwhelming. The action was so soft that he wanted to tuck it away, keep it close and never let it go. A small, pained sound fell past his lips, swallowed by the mouth on his again.

Harland nodded, nose knocking into the guard's as he broke the kiss, tilting to rest his forehead against the other faerie's for a moment. A slight smile crossed his face before it was gone. The Duke knew they were operating on not enough time. There was so much he wanted to know, to memorize, but he would content himself for this, whatever this was, for now.

The hands that skimmed down his chest and torso, that landed at his hips, waiting, made Harland suck in a breath through his nose. Angling his head, one hand coming up to grasp at Maddox's chin, Harland kissed him thoroughly, pressing his hips into his hands. The hand at his hip skimmed its fingertips just across the front of him, tugging at the laces on the front of his trousers and pressing into the bulge beneath his hand, a question and an answer in one.

MADDOX:

Even if they had forever, would it be enough? Maddox did not hesitate to grant himself further access. For all they were rushing and crashing into each, Maddox took his time undoing the laces. It was far too dangerous and they were both far too cautious to be unnecessarily reckless and rip items that could not be quickly repaired or explained away.

His hand traveled lower, taking time to caress every inch. It was almost enough to feel Harland shiver against him and to feel rather than hear the groan muffled against his own shoulder. Almost.

This would have been better on a bed. In a room with a bolted door, where he would have had all the space he needed to explore him. To watch his reactions to his touch, rather than have to bite them back.

His thumb traced the length of Harland’s cock slowly, with his other hand running up Harland’s back and curving him so his head rested in the crook of his neck. He might not be able to see as much as he wanted, but he would not miss a single sound that came from his lips.

HARLAND:

Harland's hand was careful as it untied the laces at the front of Maddox's breeches, slipping a hand beneath the skin-warmed fabric, palming the guard's cock with sure fingers. Despite the urgency in their motives, the Duke took his time dragging his nails down the length of the faerie in his hands, just as he shuddered at the hand against his own flesh. He pressed closer, canting his hips in with a whine, unable to suppress the sound.

The groan that escaped him when a thumb brushed over the length of him came from deep within his chest, barely muffled in the crook of Maddox's shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the skin there as he moved his own hand, exploring as much as he was enjoying touching, wishing he could touch more. Could touch everything.

Circling his hand round the head of Maddox's cock, swiping a thumb through the precum at the tip, Harland began to move his hand in a slow pace. What he wouldn't give for a bed, for time to look and explore and learn. What he would not give for the chance to truly hear the man. Harland contented himself with the way they were; the angle allowed him to nose the fabric away from the guard's shoulder, to alternate kisses and light bites to the skin as he began to pump the shaft in his hand.

His free hand found its way to the base of Maddox's spine, skimming beneath his tunic and anchoring himself in the muscles there. It would leave a mark, but it would be hidden. He would have to content himself with that.

MADDOX:

If he did not take Harland to bed, he might just kill him for the way he felt he was losing himself underneath the other’s touch. He was not one that lost control easily. Yet here was, whimpering against Harland. He wanted so badly to focus on giving more pleasure than he was receiving.

But with each stroke of Harland’s hand, Maddox found himself involuntarily pausing and inhaling sharply. It was far too distracting. Next time, he would need to find a way to keep Harland’s hands out of the way so he could take his time. Next time, there would be no interruptions.

But too soon, Maddox realized that the rest of the estate had fallen silent. He cursed against Harland’s neck, stealing one last kiss before withdrawing himself. He began to straighten his trousers and once done, leaned back in to steal another.

“Whatever magic or tricks you planned, best make it quick,” Maddox said. He grabbed his sword then, keeping a wide berth between Harland and himself. He flashed an apologetic smile, before striking his ribs with a force that nearly caused his knees to buckle.

“Best make sure they believe you are angry,” Maddox hissed through a grimace as he placed his sword back in its scabbard.

HARLAND:

The quiet whimpers that escaped the faerie in his hands egged Harland on. If anything else, he wanted to hear him. It did not matter that the hand on him had stilled now, even as Harland pressed his hips into Maddox's hands. He didn't care. No, he was entirely focused on the noises he was wringing from the guard, wondered what he would sound like if they were entirely alone if they could be as loud as they wanted.

It was not the first time he had cursed the king, but he certainly did that when Maddox cursed and pulled away. Harland stilled his hand, listening to his own breathing. He realized then that he could hear no other sound. Not even the guards were stirring. The Duke cursed again and the sound was swallowed by Maddox's mouth as he leaned in, stealing another kiss. Harland pressed forward, deepened it for a moment, before sighing and drawing away.

He watched, irritation flashing across his face at their predicament, at the damnable conditions of it all, as Maddox fixed himself and replaced his trousers before leaning back into the blond and stealing another kiss. Harland wanted to linger here, for just another moment, but sighed instead, nodding his head as he, too, fixed himself in his trousers.

Eyes widening when he realized what Maddox was about to do, Harland flicked out a hand. A strand of magic, far too faint to be detected, hit the guard's jaw just as he slammed the hilt of his sword into his ribs. The sound reverberated in the silence that had fallen across the manor. There was no mistaking it, and Harland's jaw tightened, gaze pained as he stared at the area he knew would now bruise an ugly shade by the end of the night. That, compounded with the glamoured bruising on his face, would be enough.

It would need to be.

Glancing at the door as he stepped away, Harland squared his shoulders before tugging the guard close, careful as his hands curled around his face. Tongue licking into the seam of his mouth, Harland deepened the kiss for a moment, a promise as good as any he could give here in the quiet, before pulling away.

When he strode through the door a moment later, stalking angrily back through the manor to that damnable door, the guards that encountered him kept well out of his way.

MADDOX:

He didn’t like magic. Maddox felt like he did not say that enough. The smell of it always irritated him and made him anxious. But when Harland made a tiny movement and he caught the scent of glamour only for a second, Maddox thought it might not be the worst thing.

He followed Harland out after a moment, clutching at his rib and muttering to himself. He nearly ran into Mik. Mik smirked. “Not his whore, then? Just a punching bag? Some revenge for Ser Gregor.” Maddox chuckled once, more of a warning than a sound of amusement, before slamming into Mik and mowing the man over until he had him pinned against a wall.

“Ser Gregor was a right cunt, you know that. But I will make his death look clean if you do not learn to hold your tongue. But you have my blessing, see if you can succeed where I failed. I will take great pleasure in picking up your pieces.”

The King reentered the hall, the door swinging shut behind him before anyone could catch a glimpse of Kit. He was smiling in a way that made Maddox positively homicidal.

“Maziac, give my lady a moment before you go to attend her. She is exhausted and will need assistance cleaning up.” Maddox merely nodded, keeping his eyes downcast. “Duke Briar, we continue to be grateful for your hospitality. We will not keep you a moment longer. We look forward to our continued correspondence.”

The King motioned to one of the passing guards, who was immediately at his side and began to escort the King out. Maddox kept a hand on his hilt, forcing himself to take slow, deep breaths.

HARLAND:

The Duke glanced up for a moment when Maddox came back into the hall before forcing his eyes away. Oberon came through the door and Harland's eyes looked past him, too, for a second. He barely caught a glimpse of Kit, huddled in the floor on her knees. The hands he had folded at the small of his back tightened around one another, shoulders barely tighter than before. No one would notice but the Duke was brimming with fury.

He could only imagine at what had been done to the woman and, frankly, he did not want to know. But she was in his home, he was caring for her, and he would do everything within his power to get her well.

Even if it meant swallowing down the bile in his throat every time he had to speak to the rat.

Harland did not accompany the King out. He knew the way. No, Harland wanted to see what had been done. What damage had he caused? Sparing a glance at Maddox, the Duke lay a hand on his shoulder, briefly, for there was no one around. He squeezed and then let go, striding through the door that the King had just left, the guard quickly following at his side.

MADDOX/KIT:

“Harland,” Maddox hissed, the warning clear. But Harland paid him no mind. Cursing, Maddox followed him into the room.

TW: manipulation, internalized victim blaming

Kit was staring at her feet, feeling herself flush a dark red. Fear not, kitten. Your shadow can clean you up. It was not a kindness Oberon had extended to her, but an order. She hated these moments where Oberon decided to flaunt how deeply intertwined they are. She knew Oberon was possessive by nature and most days, it did not trouble her. But these were the moments that it troubled her so greatly she could hardly breathe. How many times did Maddox have to prove himself worthy to remain by her side?

She had been so happy to see him first. She had felt like she was whole again. But now-

You cannot afford to follow those thoughts, Kit, she chided herself.

Maddox cleared his throat loudly, far too loudly. Kit looked up at him, startled. When her eyes flitted over to Duke Briar, she felt her neck and chest began to flush. She cast her eyes down, folding her hands in her lap.

Maddox closed the distance between them, kneeling in front of her. Kit felt as if the semen Oberon had left on her chin- why could he not just let her clean herself up honestly why did anyone have to know what happened in their private world- was burning a hole into her.

“Maddox, I am so sorry. His Royal Highness is frustrated by-” Kit began, her voice sounding like she might break into sobs.

“I cannot accept your apologies, my lady. They are not required.” Maddox’s voice was stiff, foreign as he used a kerchief to wipe her chin.

“Maddox,” Kit began again.

“Is that all my lady requires?” Her shadow was made of stone, it appeared. Kit felt herself begin to tremble. It was all too much. She was exhausted and aching and humiliated. She wanted Oberon to take her back to Roheim. Everything was all wrong here.

When Kit could not reply, Maddox merely nodded and left the room. She flinched as the door slammed shut. She stood up on unsteady feet, using the table to assist her. Her dress and robe were a mess but she pulled them tightly around her all the same, tying her waist with a sash so tight she could hardly breathe. She could not bear to look the Duke in the eye. She steeled herself, bracing herself for the insults that were sure to come.

HARLAND:

The Duke kept himself back from the pair, merely studying the situation. He cared not for the color of her shame, the way her chest and face flushed a bright red at it. He cared more for the anger that seemed to consume her guard, the stiffness he had never seen there clearly distancing himself from the situation. It was a coping mechanism he had seen before, had used himself.

At the moment the door slammed shut, Harland wished there were two of him to comfort. He knew it would do no good now but...later, perhaps. But, now, his focus was entirely on the woman that struggled to her feet, pain evident in her movements. Harland's jaw tightened again and he had to loosen the grip he had on his hands; if he had not, the fractures would have screamed.

Walking around the woman as she hugged herself, Harland rummaged through a spare closet. Some of the more simple dresses of his daughter's, ones she never wore, and jackets that were unornamented hung there. From the depths he pulled a worn brown jacket and walked it back over, gesturing with it for her to take.

A small smile graced his lips, a sign for her to know that all was well. He settled down close by but have her her space. A hand ran through his hair and the Duke slumped, tired and strung to his farthest for the evening. Still, he would try.

"What is your favorite flower, my lady? I've something to cheer you up, I believe." Softer, then, he said, "Maddox will be back, Kit. He has had a...difficult evening. It is not you that troubles him."

KIT:

She accepted the jacket with a smile, tugging it over her shoulders with a wince. “Thank you, Your Grace. You are very kind,” Kit said, stumbling over the courtesies clumsily. She tried to use High Fae with the Duke, but she was far too exhausted to try to make sense of the words and their meanings and their absurd sounds. She slipped back into the common tongue almost involuntarily.

“I am not very familiar with flowers, Your Grace. Only the belladonna, I fear.”

Kit looked past the Duke, staring at the door as if she could force it to open and return her shadow to her.

“He has a difficult master. It makes for difficult evenings.” At her words, Kit clapped a hand over her mouth. Stupid, careless girl.

“Forgive me, your Grace...The draughts have- I- I meant nothing by it.”

HARLAND:

Harland accepted her graciousness with a bow of his head, hiding a smile when she slipped in and out of High Fae and, finally, into the Common. "There are no thanks needed, but you are welcome, all the same. We can give you a dress, as well, when you've your strength. Cressida can help you into it if need be." Now that the King had gone, the staff was free to roam their home once more. They were told to give the guards a wide berth, save for Maddox and Kit themselves, and they had.

There was no need for an altercation, and certainly not one that would result in violence. Harland was attempting to minimize that as much as possible these days.

"That is no matter. I am well versed in them." He gave her a crooked smile, then. Though it was tired, it still attempted to lift the mood. Settling with his feet more securely to the floor, the Duke's eyes fell until they were half-closed, almost lazy looking. If he had been anywhere else, with anyone else, he would have appeared to nod off. But, his fingers were twitching, a thread of magic tangible in the air.

From behind her, the tendril of a plant snuck into the middle of the room. Harland manipulated it upright, the bud shimmering in a false-breeze as it unfurled. Though this was not the bloom that belonged, Harland was capable enough where it followed his instructions. The flower was delicate, its petals nearly translucent, seeming to glow in the moonlight that leaked into the room. It sat, stigma and pistils bared to the air, and waited.

"We call it the Queen of the Night, my lady," Harland murmured, a bit more tired now that he had brought something from nothingness. "She fits, I think. And she is yours until the time you leave here. She will not wither though you may pluck her."

Her words reached his ears and Harland stopped, studying her, before nodding his head. "You need not blame the draughts, Kit. It is alright. I'll not speak anything of it. You have my word."

KIT:

Kit watched the Duke in awe, enraptured. Magic was an unfamiliar creature. She knew little of how it worked and had never attempted to develop the skill. She was- had- been renowned for her beauty without the aid of glamour. It had driven her rivals insane.

It was a strange thing to behold, such a large man bringing forth such delicate illusions. But when she reached her hand out, she found it was no such illusion. She could not help but gasp and reached a delicate finger to it. She stroked the petals as gently as a lover.

“She is lovely, Your Grace. I will cherish her.” Kit murmured.

She met the Duke’s eyes for a moment, understanding passing between them like electricity. The nod of her head was so slight it was almost imperceptible but she knew he saw it. She knew he understood.

“Will you bring my shadow joy which such flowers? Or do you have other methods?” Kit asked, testing the waters. They were already more familiar than they had any right to be. The Duke, by all means, should have wanted her dead. He should have been a cruel host. But his tenderness was seemingly infinite. And she knew her shadow like she knew her own soul. Something had changed. There was so much she had missed when she was sedated and burning. She continued before Harland could respond, softly, “I am sure my shadow is grateful for your companionship. He lives a lonely life.” It was all she dared to say, preferring to keep whatever was transpiring unspoken. It was all she could do to show that she, too, would give her word and keep it.

HARLAND:

The gentle gasp that came from the blonde in front of him made Harland's smile grow. It was reasons like those that the Duke did such tricks. If he could bring joy, rather than pain, he would much rather use his magic that way. He had used it for violence, for death and destruction at the hands of a queen, for far too long.

He gave Kit a smile and nodded his head, but did not say what he wanted. The flower was Kit, was it not? He would not tell her that the flower usually died before dawn, that it was a rarity to see. The smile he had put on her face, to make her forget her shame, was enough. The slight nod she gave him at his words was as much of an understanding as they would exchange. There were no words that could describe such things, certainly not in a time like this one.

The Duke was, however, surprised by her next words. Entirely awake now, Harland sat himself up straighter against the back of his chair, assessing the woman before him. He did not know how to find the words, nor if he even could. There was far too much at stake here.

"If they think I am cruel," he murmured, sighing through his nose, and slumping his shoulders a bit. Still, he watched her face. Wanted her to understand the things he could not say. "It is easier. It protects you both behind closed doors. If anything, it affords you something like peace." He looked down, then, eyes sharp on the floor, at where her legs dangled and her feet did not touch. The corner of his mouth turned up, ever so slight, when he conceded: "Though I think your shadow would like a dagger more, flowers are not...unreasonable."

Kit did not know, yet, what he had done. Perhaps he should leave it that way? Or...perhaps not. Rolling up his sleeve, Harland bared the arm that wore a bandage still, tapping a forefinger against it. "He is his own, my lady, but while you are here...I will do what I can. I've taken the lord's rights, and I intend to follow them." He looked up at her, then, hoping she knew what it was he was saying, what he could not say. What had transpired so suddenly was not something Harland knew, not something he was familiar with.

But he was willing to learn.

KIT:

She continued stroking the petals, finding a comfort in its delicate touch. It was made for her. It bloomed for her. It was a wondrous thing and she could not bring herself to tear her eyes from it longer than necessary. Perhaps it was better she was not gazing directly into the Duke’s eyes. Neither of them might have been comfortable with such emotion being on such display.

“I imagine it is no easy task to convince anyone that you are capable of cruelty, Your Grace,” Kit said carefully. The words were slower than necessary. She was treading carefully, not wanting to disturb the peace that the Briar estate provided. “Stern, maybe. You must despise the Unseelie very much- and it must be well known- if your cruelty is believable.” It was a compliment, yes, but there was something sad in her tone. He seemed to be a good man, but even those who seemed good could hate entire people indiscriminately.

At his talk of a dagger, Kit fought very valiantly but ultimately failed to keep a smile from forming on her lips. She kept her eyes on the flower, but could not help but sneak glances at the Duke. It was an exercise in self control to refrain from giggling. “A dagger? What an intimate gift, Your Grace. I am sure he would be appreciative.”

But at the Duke’s next words, her expression became impassive. Her blistered skin remained taut with her lips pressed tightly together.

“One of yours? Or of my beloved’s that necessitated such violence?”

HARLAND:

He watched her as she stroked the petals of the bloom, noticed the way she was entranced by them. In a way, he was glad to know he had not lost the ability. The war had taken so much, but he would not let them have this. Never this, not wholly. They could weaponize him, but they could not make him fire, not now.

Her words were careful and he gave her a small, sad smile. He could hear the sadness, the fact that she well knew of his dislike for her people. Well, he thought, many of them. "Cruelty is a learned behavior, my lady. It...can be emulated. When one has lost his way...the sensations are harder to reimagine, once you have pieced yourself together again but...it is not entirely unthought of. Such is the game we play. Such is the necessity. I do not despise the unwilling. I despise the war and what it made us become. Each man is a monster, they just wear a different face, my lady. We all saw the same violence. The heroes merely changed cloaks."

The words were ones he had known for a long while. He did not hate the Unseelie, not those who had merely followed their families. And, he knew, there had been those. No, Harland hated those who were unnecessarily cruel, who found joy in the death and the despair, who fed from it like it sustained them. He had met many a man like that on the battlefield. In his time as a diplomat, rather than just a field commander, Harland had learned to see the difference.

The Duke heard the tone of her words and smiled, amused. "You would know best, I think, though I am not sure it is entirely as intimate as you are imagining." Despite her quip, he did mean a true dagger. Squirming a bit, Harland reached around to the waist of his trousers and removed the blade from its sheath. It was the same one he had fought with before. He had a nearly identical one in his rooms, its twin. Flipping it so it was hilt out, Harland extended it towards the blonde without a word.

It took him a moment to process what he wanted to say about his wounds. Eventually, he gave a slight shrug. "It is but a mirror image, my lady. I've collected many like them. But yes. It was one of your king's." He would not go into the details. He did not need Kit to know what had, almost undoubtedly, been done to the man.

KIT:

How quickly they flitted between melancholy and peace, the two of them. She felt like a little hummingbird, flying to and fro with pauses as short as a breath between all her emotions. She offered the Duke a small smile in her understands. Her own experience of the war was not one she talked about easily. Especially not to a veteran such as Harland Briar.

“Maddox is not exactly well loved by the other guards,” Kit replied, shutting her eyes briefly. She knew, of course, that it was unlikely another guard raised a sword against Maddox without an order. They had all been bested by Maddox too many times to take on such a herculean task without sufficient motivation. She withdrew her hands from the petals, suddenly aware she was on the verge of crushing one.

Kit took the hilt gingerly, taking care to make her fingers clumsy and her grip appear awkward as she held it. She turned it over carefully, as if she was afraid it would burn her. She went to hold it back out to Duke Briar when she saw the look on his face. Her prepared speech that would beg forgiveness for her ignorance of weaponry died on her lips.

HARLAND:

Harland’s eyes flickered to her face as she spoke, noticing the way she withdrew her hand from the flower. The petal she had been toying with was crumpled but no worse for wear, otherwise. He recognized that she did not speak on her experience of the war and, for that, the Duke was grateful. He knew it was incredibly different than his own, especially as tied to the king as it was. It made him wonder, truly, what she had seen.

Oberon claimed she knew nothing of war, was naive to its death and its pain, but Harland had seen the blood on her dress, too high up to be her own. It was no easy task to harm Balthazar Black, yet this supposedly frail woman had. It made him wonder how many secrets she kept from her king and, if she did, who she kept them with. If he had to guess, the Duke would think it was her shadow.

Speaking of Maddox…

“I am unsurprised, unfortunately,” Harland grimaced a bit but, then, had to hide a small, amused smile. “He’s rather hard to phase, though I’m sure you know such things. A bit of a stone wall, really.” When she took the dagger from him, The Duke’s brows raised into his hairline, sweeping over her posture and noting how it was deliberately loose. He had seen the way Kit sat, how she held herself. Even injured, she was prim and proper. The awkwardness she held the weapon was put upon and, clearly, she needed to work on such lies.

“With all due respect, my lady, if you are going to lie to me I would ask that you make it convincing.” He held up a hand, an amused smile on his face, but not angry. “You forget I carried you here. I saw the blood on your clothing and the blood on the ground. If you need to keep that hidden, by all means, but do not take me for a fool. I trained many of the soldiers under my command myself. I know when someone does or does not know how to wield a blade.”

KIT:

“A mountain,” Kit corrected him. “All of Midsummer could burn and I am sure my shadow would remain. He cannot fall any more than a mountain could melt into the earth.” There was no trace of arrogance or pride in her voice, only the firmness of her belief. She knew well the weakness of the fae and was convinced that only Maddox was immune. He seemed to rise above mortal emotions or needs time and time again.

It was likely why he survived so long. In truth, she could not think of a single member of the King’s immediate household employ that had survived both the war and their king’s reign. Her beloved was quick to judgment and many a good servant or guard had fallen to his paranoia.

Kit frowned, but there was an involuntary twitch of the corner of the mouth that told the Duke she was as equally surprised to have been found out as she was pleased to have been complimented. She adjusted her grip and nodded.

“I fear you will ruin me, Duke Briar. A woman needs secrets like armor. Here I am deprived of both in such foreign territory.” Kit said, but her tone was light.

“I have found that usually, the bulk of the deception falls unto others. No reason to hide what others do not wish to see.” Kit continued, thinking carefully as she turned the blade over once more before allowing Harland to grip the hilt. “It is a fine blade, Your Grace.”

HARLAND:

“And yet you tell this to a faerie who has moved a mountain.” Harland meant nothing by the words. In fact, the irony was amusing, as was plain to see on the Duke’s face. He had no doubt Kit was right in her convictions; Maddox had been nothing but her support and her strength through the war, before and beyond, and it was clear to see in anything the pair did. There was a trust there that extended beyond the blonde’s faith in her king, something that meant where Oberon failed, Maddox did not.

The guard’s role in Kit’s life was immeasurable. It made Harland wonder how Maddox had lived so long against the Unseelie monarch’s jealousies.

“Armor can be concealed behind words just as easily as it can be worn out in the open, my lady. The trick is to learn how to control both.” He nodded in approval when she adjusted her grip, leaning back slightly into the seat. He’d rolled his sleeve down as she spoke, once more hiding the bandaging from view. His mind turned to the wounds Maddox had inflicted on himself and his face turned grim for a moment before shoving the thought away. The fact that they’d needed them at all was proof enough of the care they needed to take.

The game was dangerous, but it was worth what came from it, in the end.

He took the blade back and murmured his thanks quietly, thumb running over the serrated edges for a moment before tucking it safely away. “It carried me through the war. It is my hope that it will not need to carry me through another, but I would be...honored if Maddox would accept it.” The words were quiet, a tad sheepish, and he really didn’t know what to do with himself for having said them, but they hung between he and Kit now, out in the open.

KIT:

“Are you certain of that, Duke Briar? Perhaps you were moved as well.” Kit said, her blue eyes locked onto his own. There was nothing unkind in her gaze, but there was a sense of searching. After a few moments, a slight relaxation of her eyes signaled acceptance, at the very least, if not outright approval. No matter how kind the Duke seemed nor how welcoming his estate, there were still banners that divided them. She had her fair share of doomed loves and wanted no such thing for her shadow.

But as the Duke spoke, she realized it was far too late. Whatever had transpired as she lay half dead to the world had forever altered them all. Maddox was not the same man she remembered from the last time she saw him and even the Duke seemed different. Granted, her first encounter of the Duke was marred by flashes of blinding pain and heat and was thus unreliable.

She knew what love looked like. It had so many different forms, but for all its changing faces it could not hide. Based on the Duke’s words, she was not sure it wanted to hide, no matter how damaging its revelation would be.

She reached out, placing a hand on his. She brushed her thumb over his knuckles, speaking so softly she was barely audible. If they wanted, they could pretend she had never said anything at all.

“He will. You should go to him.” Bring him back was the unspoken request.

HARLAND:

The Duke’s eyes snapped to hers at the blonde’s words, all the air rushing out of him in a single breath. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, then, something that he knew she could see, that he could not help her seeing no matter how much he hid it. He had no idea what he was doing, had no fathomable understanding of even attempting to. All he knew was that it had been a spark that had caught, ignited into something like a flame. He wanted to burn in it as much as he knew he should douse it. He knew it...and yet he could not bring himself to.

“Perhaps as much as a mountain can move the Erthe. Or, at the very least, shape it,” he whispered. He dropped her gaze then, toying with the hem of his tunic. It was a habit of his, born from nervousness and an abundance of pent up energy, but here it was a distraction from his thoughts. Thoughts, Harland knew, he should not be having. Yet he did. And he was not miserable for them, though he was ashamed to think that, perhaps, there were people who believed he should be. Balthazar, for one, had he known. His father, for another.

Her touch startled him and, just as he had earlier in the day, the Duke flinched at the softness of it. His fingers flexed beneath her hand, gripping harshly to a knee to still them, head ducked so she could not see his eyes. He breathed in, once, and then out. Did it again, hoping to quell the surge of...something in his breast. He did not want to leave herm knew with a quiet certainty that Maddox would probably be very royally pissed if he did. But he wanted-

He wanted.

“I am sure it is near supper,” he murmured at least, gently moving her hand from his. He stood, eyes searching her face, the corner of his mouth upturned by a hairsbreadth, and gave her a short nod. “I will return shortly with the news of its progress.” He bowed his head, a silent form of thanks, before turning on his heel and striding from the room, barking out orders to the guards to keep clear of the chamber unless requested

KIT/MADDOX:

She watched him leave, something between a grimace and a smile on her face. Whatever they had stumbled into- or rather what she had started by seeking out Balthazar- had long spiraled out of their control. All they could do know was hold and hope the aftermath would not be as horrible as they expected.

Maddox was in the stables. It was the only place he could ensure the King was truly gone.

He howled as he struck against the post with his fists over and over again, until the wood began to splinter and his skin was tearing. It hurt less to beat himself bloody than it was to think of-

No, do not.

Whatever was transpiring between himself and the Duke was stirring up emotions he had buried long ago. Or perhaps it was the fact that Kit- with her blazing eyes and infectious laughter- was fighting for her life and he had been powerless to aid her.

HARLAND:

It took the Duke very little time to find the other guard.

He just followed the howling.

It didn’t help that he’d run into Egan, either, anger and disapproval clear on the Halfling’s face. He and the lord had gone a round early into Kit’s recovery, argued over the presence of the Unseelie pair, the danger they possessed for everyone involved. Egan could always see straight through him; Harland also knew it was more than mere professional concern. He and the groom were friends, had been for a long while, even taking into account their stations. He knew it was worry that drove the man, but the disapproval still stung.

But, he didn’t speak anything of it now. Instead, Egan waved him away angrily, cursing the man out under his breath as he stalked away. Harland looked up for a moment, sucked in a breath and let it out. There was something to be said for the infinite patience he possessed; it seemed to be tried at every turn, these days.

The sight that greeted him as he pushed the stable doors open with a shoulder made the Duke’s eyes widen and his hands ache. Stepping in through the door, Harland shut it quietly behind him, moving forward quietly so he didn’t startle the man. He said his name, quiet, concerned, and waited.

MADDOX:

It was a testament to how deeply he already cared for the other fae that he did not pull his sword and began to tear the post to pieces. He wanted to cut something down. But he heard his name, as soft as a whisper and turned towards its source.

There was Harland Briar, standing at the stable doors looking at him as if someone was stabbing him. Maddox exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. He could not pretend to be fine- his heaving shoulders and trembling hands took that option away.

“It’s almost worse here. At least in Roheim, I know to react means to lose my head. But to be here-” Maddox cursed.

“Perhaps the humans are right. Perhaps free will is a cruel gift.”

HARLAND:

When Maddox turned towards him, Harland breathed out a heavy gust of wind, shoulders falling ever so slightly. Like the other faerie, there were many things that had built upon his shoulders. There were days where he felt like he would be crushed beneath the weight of it all. He could not possibly imagine, truly, what it was that had piled onto Maddox’s shoulders in the years he had been under the king’s employ. But, perhaps, there was a way he could help ease it.

If not that then he could listen.

So, the Duke came forward, his advance slow, steps measured and even. He watched Maddox’s face the entire time, took in the tremble in his hands and the heaving of his shoulders, and recognized the pain as easily as his own.

“Free will is about as fickle as anything, I think, regardless of who possess it,” Harland agreed, coming closer as he spoke, voice pitched quiet like he was soothing a startled animal. In some ways he was, though there was far more behind it than that. “But bottling everything up only makes the fall harder, in the end. Believe me,” he said, a slight smile on his face, “I know.”

MADDOX:

“It will be my job to deliver her back into the lion’s den,” Maddox croaked. He stepped towards Harland.

“This is the first time in at least a century I have seen her more than an hour’s ride of the King,” Maddox whispered. “She was nearly killed but she blooms here regardless. I do not think she even realizes.”

Maddox shook his head as if he could clear all of his negative thoughts. He closed the distance between himself and Harland, still shaking. He wanted so badly to wrap himself up in Harland. He wanted to forget everything that bothered him. But he could not afford to keep falling apart. Not when Kit’s life hung in the balance. Not when there were so many enemies surrounded them.

“You and I both know I have no choice.” Maddox sighed, running his bruised and bloody hands throughout his hair.

“What do we do now?”

HARLAND:

"It will be your job to make sure she stays safe while she's there. As safe as she can possibly be, given the circumstances." It was a hard fact, a bitter thing to swallow, but it was fact all the same. Harland knew it just as surely as Maddox himself must. But he knew the guard blamed himself for many things, if not now then surely from the past that had led them to this point.

Maddox shook his head to clear it and Harland gave a sad laugh. He shook his head. "No, I do not think she does." Truth be told, Harland did not know if she ever would, or if Kit would continue to live in her denial. He had heard her remarks, knew that she saw the things Oberon did, but she was blinded by the care she held for him, however that may have been garnered. But she had a care for Maddox, too, and it drove them both forward.

The guard closed the distance and Harland stepped forward to meet him, a hand curling gently around a bicep to tug him in, the other sliding up beneath a hand that raked at his scalp. He made a noise when he examined the knuckles, ran a thumb carefully over the wounds, but didn't say a word about them. He had known men who did far worse to themselves to cope.

He had been lucky to run away when he could, though Harland supposed some of those reckless tendencies still remained.

He hummed a bit at the back of his throat, angling his head so he could look down at Maddox's face from such a close distance. "You've been given choice in my home, Maddox. React however you need to. I, of all fae, should not judge."

MADDOX:

Maddox nodded, He let himself relax into Harland’s embrace. He would give himself these few moments to forget himself. He would allow himself to rest in Harland’s arms. He was still trembling, violent urges and other dark emotions urging him forward. But Maddox remained still.

He matched his breathing to Harland’s, steadying himself. But as he calmed himself, he found himself developing tunnel vision. He had been keeping himself alive for a century by motivating himself by two things- that the Nighthawks needed him and that Kit needed him. He was not here to fall in love with a Seelie Duke. He was here to protect his charge- who was his dearest friend.Caring for himself felt like a luxury he could not afford. Embracing a Duke felt like an indulgence.

“Even with your blessing, you and I both know there is too much at stake. I should not have left her alone.” Maddox said. He placed a hand on Harland’s cheek.

“One day, I hope we will be able to cast aside our burdens and have no need to return to them. But not today.” Maddox said, sadly.

HARLAND:

As Maddox began to relax into his arms, Harland curled around him, bringing his other arm up to wrap loosely around the guard’s hip. If he needed to move, he could, and the Duke would let him. He was not trying to trap him, just to offer something steady to lean on. The Duke bowed his head, nose pressing into the hair on top of Maddox’s head, and kept his breathing steady. Soon, he could hear a response in the other faerie and he smiled, nodded a wordless form of encouragement. Nevertheless, he was still trembling.

Sliding the hand that had rested on his forearm down, Harland tucked it into his side, careful as his thumb found the other man’s ribs and rubbed circles into the flesh beneath his clothing, curling closer as he shifted his hold. There was a spiral to fall down, here, and he knew it well. So, when he spoke, the words were soft. “Your lady is fine for the time being, enough for you to collect yourself. A few moment’s time will not harm her, or you. No guard will enter that room, not while this is still my home.”

Harland knew at least that was true. The Avens’ guards might be inconspicuous but they had all witnessed what the Duke would do to those who defied his orders and they believed what they had seen of Maddox, as much as that sat poorly with him. The Duke smiled slightly, face tilting into Maddox’s palm and pressing his lips to it, eyes never leaving the other man’s face. “One day, perhaps, our burdens will not keep us going. Perhaps we just...will.”

MADDOX:

Maddox sighed. He would have given anything to stay there forever. To take him up on his offer and just collect himself fully. But it was not in his nature to do anything the easy way. He gave the Duke a small, sad smile and pulled away.

“I should not have stormed out like that. I know better than to allow my emotions to get the best of me.” Or at least I used to. Maddox took another deep, steadying breath.

“I know you want to give me a place to rest. But my place- my duty is not here.” Maddox continued. “If roles were reversed, you would be at your post. I need to be at mine.”

It was no easy task to move away from the Duke, especially not when everything about him was so inviting. All the same, Maddox took a step towards the stable doors.

“Perhaps,” Maddox said, “and maybe on that day we will celebrate King Aven’s arrival.”

HARLAND:

Maddox sighed and pulled away and, as he had told himself he would, Harland let him. It would have been better if they’d had all the time in the world if they’d been able to forget the pains that had hurt them, the pains that had marked them, if only for a moment. Bargaining for more than that was like stitching a wound, far too messy and almost unpleasant if the situation could not accommodate for it.

Shaking his head, the Duke swept a hand through his hair, down his face. Peeking at him from between his fingers, Harland snorted, quietly and bowed his head. He heaved a sigh, just once, and then shook his head. “If I was meant to be at my post then why am I here,” he murmured, eyes studying the other man’s face for a moment before looking away. He stepped back a moment later, moved a bit to the side to allow Maddox to move towards the doors. “I told Kit we would join her for dinner or, at the very least, that you would.”

The remark made Harland laugh, even if it was a small thing, sad though it may have been.

MADDOX:

“Well then, I would hate to keep a lady waiting,” Maddox said. He wished he had the words to express how much these small gestures meant to him. The simple way there was no resistance when he broke away or how immediately the fae was at his side validated him. It was a source of support that he was unaccustomed to.

“It should be all of us,” Maddox replied. He could not bear the thought of eating dinner alone with Kit no more than he could bear the idea of parting with the Duke. They had been at each other’s sides constantly since he first arrived at the Briar estate. He had a shadow of his own now.

HARLAND:

The small, crooked smile that curled up the corner of his mouth could have cleared away a fog. Though he could still see that there were things that the guard was clearly struggling against, he was trying to keep himself together, for himself and for Kit. The voice was nearly the same, but there was still a waiver, something not entirely right with the way he was acting. Yet Maddox was trying, and that would be enough for Harland, for now.

Surprised at the words but...touched all the same, Harland gave a small nod, an acknowledgment of the reply as much as it was of what lay beneath it. “Well, then, perhaps we should clean your hands. I am sure your lady does not need to be reminded of your coping mechanisms, just like she does not need to learn mine.” It was not a criticism, merely a comment. He made to open the stable door wider but raised a brow in question, all the same.

MADDOX / KIT:

He snorted. “You mean to tell me she has not already figured it out?” Maddox raised an eyebrow. “Here I thought you might be the first Sidhe to refrain from estimating her.” But still, as they walked back towards the great hall he stopped and found himself a clean cloth to wipe his hands with. It was a comfortable silence between them and for that Maddox was grateful.

As they entered the great hall, they found Kit happily seated on the ground with two children. She was in clothes that complimented her with the pale tones, clearly on loan from the Briar Estate. As they drew nearer, they realized that neither Kit nor the children paid any mind to the two fae entering. Kit was braiding Cressida’s hair, her fingers moving far quickly and confidently that anyone would have expected.

“Why then, the dragon let out a great roar,” Kit said, her eyes widening for effect as she looked at Calix. Cressida went to shake her head in disbelief and Kit tugged on her hair- gently- as if to remind her that she was still working. Cressida and Calix could not help but laugh.

“And while he opened his great jaws- his teeth smelling of rot and spoiled meat- I threw my sword with all my might into his eye.” Calix gasped and Kit nodded her head in response. She finished with Cressida, the girl’s hair pulled into an intricately braided bun that rested at the nape of her neck. Even with Kit’s hands removed from her head, Cressida did not leave her side.

“So the dragon died?” Kit shook her head and Calix groaned.

“No. But I do not think he will try to come for my jewels anytime soon.”

Kit turned her head and rose immediately when she realized Maddox and Harland had reappeared.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. These two charming members of your household were kind enough to help me pass the time as dinner was prepared. Perhaps you could forgive any duties they may have neglected while keeping me company?”

With this, she leaned into Calix’s ear and whispered in a less than quiet voice. “I always thought chores were the dullest thing in all of Midsummer.”

HARLAND:

"Yours...perhaps. Mine? She just might, depending on what happens in the month's time she is here. I do not underestimate a woman who can get a shot in on Balthazar Black." He crooked up a smile, waving a hand at the guard when he looked at him sharply. "You need not worry, Maddox. I know enough to keep silent. And yet I wonder who taught her, hm?" The mischievous grin Harland shot the guard's way was enough to lift the last of the fog that had settled over them.

As they made their way into the great hall, Harland leaned against the wall near the door, listening in quiet contemplation. Even with his arms folded over his chest, however, the look on his face was one of interest. Twitching his fingers where they rested on his arm, Harland let a tendril of glamour magic loose, a miniature dragon swooping in on large, black wings. Just as Kit had suggested, it had one eye.

Harland knew who she was speaking of, even if he would not acknowledge it. For the time being, it would be a little boy's bedtime tale.

The glamoured dragon gave a quiet roar as it wheeled around between the children and the woman on the floor, Harland's grin growing as the little boy's eyes became the size of saucers. His older sister caught the look on first her brother's face and, then, the lord's and shook her head, smiling at the wonder that Harland had caused.

The dragon faded along with Kit's story and Harland straightened, brow arching when he heard Kit apologize for their company. Shaking his head, the Duke waved her apologies away. Instead, he turned an eye to the siblings. Only the younger one looked sheepish. "It's quite alright, my lady. They're not in trouble. Even though Calix should be sleeping. Cressida is free for the evening. Though I'm sure she appreciates the marvelous braid you've given her."

The young girl looked up at Harland with wide eyes, a small, guilty smile on her face. Turning, Cressida thanked the blonde quietly before rising to her feet. She walked over to Harland and went to speak, eyeing Maddox hesitantly, but stopped when she saw his arm. The bandages were exposed. Wide-eyed, Cressida's small fingers reached out towards the Duke before thinking better of it. Instead, she looked up into his face, anger and worry laced in her gaze. Harland merely gave her a smile, nodding his head towards the door. She stared at him, suspicious, before sighing and calling for her brother. Calix jumped up, wiggling carefully from Kit's side, and followed her out with a cheerful good night, none the wiser to what had transpired between his sister and the Sidhe.

Harland made sure they were gone before speaking up, running a hand across his jaw as he did. "Forgive me, my lady. The children do not get many visitors. They have had...a difficult life." He turned to Maddox, gave an apologetic smile. "Cress...she is remise to trust, unlike her brother."

MADDOX / KIT:

“They must be a clever bastard to have slipped past both the King and myself,” Maddox replied, returning the fae’s grin. He decided then in the great hall that he might never have such a happy moment. Despite all that had happened, Kit looked whole. She looked vibrant as she told a much kinder version of how she acquired her burns. Harland began to conjure things- which sent chills down his spine- but he could not deny the wonder in the children’s eyes.

Kit, to her credit, was unfazed by the illusion’s appearance. She continued on as if she had been planning such an event the whole time. When the children departed, she was careful to throw Calix a wink before she went on. The girl seemed far too serious for one so young but she supposed human children had no other choice.

Kit waved away Harland’s apology. “There is no need to apologize for children. They are lovely in spite of whatever ugliness befell them.” Kit placed a hand on the chair, a poor attempt to subtly support herself. She looked as if she had run from Roheim and back. Her skin was pale and beads of sweat clung to her forehead, but she still managed to smile at them both as if nothing was wrong.

Maddox remained tight-lipped. Fear and suspicion were usually in the eyes of those who stared at him and it had long since stopped bothering him. But now that the children had departed and a majority of the servants had run along, it was just the three of them. He did not know where to begin. Today was truly the first day that Kit had been coherent for any amount of time- even then only because the Unseelie physician insisted on weaning her from her draughts so she could be alert for the King’s visit.

If they had been in Roheim, there would be no possibility of discussion. But here, they were freer than before. Maddox had a million thoughts swirling in his mind. He wanted to share them with both Kit and Harland, but instead, he remained silent.

HARLAND:

Catching the disgruntled look on the guard’s face as the conjuring faded away, Harland cocked a brow to the side, asking a silent question. When Maddox didn’t say a word, the Duke resolved to file it away to ask for another time. He had seen the way that Kit interacted with the children and did not marvel at it but, rather, tucked that away too. She liked children or, at the very least, enjoyed telling tales. It was a rather...endearing quality in someone that had been touched by so much cruelty in her life, by someone who loved a faerie that was as cruel as he was. Harland had oft wondered since her recovery began what Kit Scarlet had been like before the war, before she’d met Oberon Aven and had been whisked away to be Midsummer’s worst kept secret.

Still, she looked happier, now. Tired, yes, and certainly pained. But happy.

“Quite a lot, I am afraid.” He replied, voice dropping to a low pitch so the words did not carry any further than the three of them. He was hesitant to provide any information on their backgrounds, as much as he wanted to believe Maddox nor Kit would see any harm done to them. The rest of the Unseelie in his home were not so...able to earn his trust with such a matter. It would be best not to speak of it at all. “The war displaced them and I took them in.”

Rounding the corner of the table, Harland casually offered an arm to the woman as she gripped the back of her chair with fierce little hands, a small smile lighting up his eyes for but a moment. He gestured for Maddox to sit and, when he had and Kit was situated in her place, Harland sat last. Zinnia had already brought the food out, had done so while the children had scampered off, so they were, the three of them, alone for the first time since the pair’s arrival at Thornhill.

Pouring himself a few fingers of whiskey, Harland offered the bottle to them both with a gesture. He made a mental note to thank the cook for the food she’d given them. Harland’s quiet request for something that would bring Kit’s vigor back after her...exertion for the day had been met tenfold.

KIT/ MADDOX:

As in perfect synchronization, both Kit and Maddox nodded at the Duke’s word. Neither of them asked any more questions.

It was a lovely, far more extensive than necessary for such a small party. Maddox looked around uneasily. While of course, he agreed to dinner just moments before, he realized he had never dined with Kit and someone else. At times, they are together but usually if Kit has company he was to be at his post.

As Harland helped her to the table, Kit returned his smile. “You must tell your staff how grateful I am. It looks wonderful.” It was silent then for a moment, with tension running like an undercurrent, but it was not unbearable.

When Harland offered the bottle, Kit reached for it.

“Kit, perhaps-“ Maddox began but then stopped as she glared at him.

“Hush, Maddox. I think I have earned myself a drink.” He paused for a moment as if deciding whether or not it was worth it to fight her on this. In the end, he elected to let it go. Satisfied and smiling to herself, Kit took her fill pouring herself a generous amount before passing the bottle to Maddox.

“So,” she began, in a voice filled with a cheer she did not truly feel, “you all know what I have been up to every moment since I first arrived. Perhaps you might fill me in on what I missed?”

HARLAND:

Watching as the pair settled into their seats, Harland noticed the discomfort the guard displayed, brow furrowing for a moment as he wondered at it. Tuning back into the blonde's words, the Duke inclined his head, a small shrug following the action. "I shall pass the praise along. I hope Zinnia made the food to expectation." He paused, an almost sheepish look taking over his features before he cleared his throat and tried again."I inquired after food you and Maddox would be accustomed to from Belladonna. Many of the dishes are similar to ours, with little variation to different regional tastes."

His fingers toyed with a utensil for a moment, eyes not looking at either the woman or the guard seated across from him.

When the bottle was removed from his hands, Harland cut his eyes back towards the pair, watching passively as their little tiff ironed itself out, a small quirk of his lips indicating he was listening even if he appeared not to be. Maddox was only doing what he believed to be in Kit's interest but she deserved even the smallest reprieve from her pain.

The false cheer immediately set him on guard, however, and the Duke turned a critical eye to the woman at his side. Brows raising into his hairline at the inquiry, Harland refused to look over at Maddox. It would give her far too much satisfaction. Instead, he smiled, a bright thing, and said "a drinking game, my lady. And a lesson. Nothing more."

KIT/ MADDOX:

“It is lovely, Your Grace.” Kit said. Maddox’s glance to Harland- one was like the look someone gives their old home- said more than any of his courtesies could. Kit attempted to eat- it was clear she was hungry- but it was also equally clear that even the effort of eating exhausted her. She was more likely to reach for her drink than her utensils. Maddox, on the other hand, seemed oddly comfortable at such formal dining despite the years since he had been allowed to partake in an event.

Kit laughed aloud at Harland’s reply. “But of course, Your Grace. And Duke Black and I were just having a friendly sparring match,” she said, matching his bright tone. Maddox nearly choked, beating his chest with a fist for a moment. Kit continued on, seemingly unaware, though the slight smirk on her face demonstrated the opposite.

“Am I allowed to participate in such games? Or is this a game reserved for soldiers?” Kit continued.

HARLAND:

Rather than choke as her shadow had, Harland merely chuckled. "I suppose you could call it that, yes. Though, really it was hardly a lesson. The poor bastard was sloppy. Spoon fed." The disdain in his voice was clear, as was the way his gaze darkened for a moment, eyes flickering to Maddox for the briefest of seconds, having caught the glance thrown his way. It still rankled him, the way Ser Gregor had acted. Not because he had disrespected Harland, no. That was easily corrected. No, it had been the way he had so easily been able to turn on his own comrades.

Where Harland came from, they were yours. Your family and your blood. You gave up yours for them, died for them. If your Queen asked you to kill them there better be a damn well good reason for it.

The Duke stabbed his fork a tad more harshly into his food than intended and he grimaced, a quiet apology falling from his lips. Sucking in a breath Harland said, "We spoke of the war, Kit, as old soldiers do. But, no, it is not reserved for us."

He almost expected the look on her face, one similar to a cat that had gotten the bird, the cream, and all the rest. It was still disconcerting, however, when it was directed at him. Such a knowing look, and the Duke felt like it pierced him straight through. "Ask what you would like, my lady. I'll answer, if I can."

It was a show of good faith, he knew, and he wanted to see what Kit would do with it.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox picked up his glass, drinking deeply. It was so easy to slip back into the old habit of observing. He watched the irritation flicker across the Duke’s face and the way his fork momentarily became a weapon and did not avert his gaze. Maddox could not help but stare at the man, amazed. What did he still believe in that Ser Gregor’s actions surprised him? Ser Gregor may have acted with unnecessary vigor, but most in the King’s employ knew it was better to be seen as over-eager to serve rather than hesitant.

Kit placed a hand on Maddox’s. “Dear shadow, remind me of the rules. I would hate to be underprepared to play against such fearsome fae like yourself and the Duke.” Maddox rolled his eyes.

“Guess correctly, they drink. Guess incorrectly, you drink.” Kit squeezed his hand, sighing as if she was resigning herself to something tedious.

“Well given I play with both my shadow and a man who brought me into his estate naked, I fear I do not possess much of an advantage. Pity,” Kit said, her voice filling out as she seemed to pick up energy. The prospect of a game seemed to revitalize her far more than the food did. She made a show of placing a hand on her chin, studying Harland with a seriousness as theatrical as it was sincere.

“I have heard you had to teach such a lesson in defense of a new love of yours, Duke Briar.”

HARLAND:

"A knight is sworn to Valor, his heart knows only Virtue. His temper shall be held by patience. He will aid those who seek it and ask for aid when needed." The words flowed from Harland's mouth easily, the pieces memorized early on in his time as a knight. His forefinger drew a circle around the rim of his glass before he drank, eyes catching and holding the guard's. Turning, the Duke addressed Kit, a stoicism in his face that indicated he meant every word. "Where I come from, there is more to a guard than merely standing beside his monarch. There is honor in what he does and that honor connects you to your brothers and sisters in arms. When it is lost, when you would turn your back on your brother for nothing more than a token of praise, there is no honor left in you."

He picked up his glass and drank deeply, his words hanging in the air between them all.

"There is a part of me that thinks you enjoy playing with fire, my lady." The words were said with no malice, nothing meant by them, but Harland raised a brow at Kit's actions regardless. He reached across the table and took the bottle from Maddox, refilling his glass a substantial degree more than it had previously held. He had a feeling he would need it.

"But I suppose it comes with the territory. The lesson was well-earned, Kit. I would have done it regardless." He sipped at his drink, studying her, before continuing on. He would not mince words with her. She did not need it. "There is far more my rights as a liege lord can do for you both than they cannot, one of which includes offering Maddox a protection he will not have otherwise. There are many in Wisteria who would want him dead, you included. My sigil protects you both, as does my position on the Council. It is the least I could do."

There was far more that could be said, should be said, but he did not wish to air it out here over dinner. It was far too damming already.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox stiffened as Harland spoke, turning his eyes to his plate. Kit’s question alone would have been enough cause to keep his gaze downcast for the next century, but speaking of virtues and protection filled him a shame that seemed to choke him. What business did a spy like him, a sellsword like him, have to such devotion? To such honor?

Kit’s eyes never left Harland's, weighing him carefully. She had heard pretty words from pretty lips before, but it was something in the Duke’s eyes that softened her. She reached a hand towards Maddox, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles. It was a simple enough gesture, but it was done almost reflexively.

If Maddox had looked up, he would have seen that Kit was looking at Harland with a mixture of gratitude and approval. He might have been relieved to see for all of her bluntness and ferocity, she seemed to have calculated the cost of the stakes and still held a fondness for whatever had blossomed while she lay comatose to the world. But Madox’s gaze remained firmly on the ground, as if he could simply listen in without partaking.

Kit smiled. “Perhaps you enjoy dancing with the flames as well, Your Grace.”

HARLAND:

The Duke held the small woman's gaze, evenly. Knew he was being assessed and allowed her to continue at it. He knew the ways they were intertwined, could see It as much as he could guess at it. He saw the way Maddox stiffened at his words but he had continued on. If anything, the actions the other man had taken for Kit proved that he was more worthy of such vows than some Harland had known in his time.

Eyes flickering to the finger drug across the other faerie's knuckles, Harland cataloged that gesture away for another time. There was a familiarity there that spoke to so much between the two, a comfort that did not exist outside of them. Not even with the King. It was...intriguing. As intriguing as it was potentially damning.

Yet, again, Kit's bluntness did not shock him. Harland laughed, a tinge bitter, and moved a hand to his throat, drawing a finger down the thick scarring that wrapped around his neck. "Some would say more than most, my lady. But I suppose I was never able to stop."

Turning away from the woman, then, Harland studied the faerie across from him, taking in the war he removed himself from the conversation, cast his eyes down and looked away. There were many things he did not know about Maddox Maziac but the ability to, truly, become a shadow was plain for all to see. So, when Harland next spoke it was only to him, and in Owain, though he hardly believed Kit did not understand.

"Many of us do, after all. Might even run in my family, though I'd hardly be surprised, given the rumors about my mother. Maddox, what's your guess? You must have more you want to know."

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox looked up, seeming surprised to have been addressed. He turned his face to Kit, who returned his gaze with a soft smile. Then, Maddox fiddled with his utensils for a moment. It was harder to hide the fondness between the two men here in front of Kit, who always seemed to divine exactly what was in a man’s heart. Kit may have claimed to be at a disadvantage, but it was Maddox who felt truly vulnerable.

“You carve trinkets for the human children in your care. You spend many nights fretting over them. You cherish them and wish to preserve them. The trinkets, you carve, of course.” Maddox replied, the implication anything but. Kit leaned back in her chair, so that she could observe both men without having to turn her head.

Information about wood carving surprised Kit, but in truth, she was surprised Maddox would waste a guess on something so visible. The practiced indifference Harland donned whenever company was near his staff spoke volumes. It was clear in his praise of the cook and in the way he seemed to send the children as far away from Unseelie eyes as possible.

HARLAND:

A soft smile curled around Harland's mouth, as unhelped as anything could be in a time like this. The Duke leaned back in his chair for a moment, studying the other faerie, before nodding and drinking. Unbuttoning his coat pocket, Harland withdrew and intricately done whale, from his time in Shark clan territory.

Holding it out for a moment, the blond studied the piece, running a finger over its curves to ensure there were no stray edges. Then, he placed it on the table in front of Maddox. A second, a bear, he placed in front of Kit.

"Not just for the children, but yes. Ask Calix. He has plenty of them. And...there are many reasons I would protect them. For one, they are children and, for another, they have seen far too much in their lives. The least I can do is offer them someplace to hide away from it all." Harland tapped his fingertips against the side of his glass, pondering his own question.

Finally, he turned to Kit once more. The shrug he gave her was almost helpless, a small thing and boyish in its movement. "You care for children, my lady. It does not matter who they are, nor their parentage. You are fond of them all the same." Harland shot her a small smile and raised his glass in a bit of a toast, sipping from his drink.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Maddox took the whale with one hand, running his thumb over it. If he closed his eyes, he could smell the sea and hear the songs of his people. He was overcome with longing for home and for the man who gave him this gift.

Kit picked up the bear, turning it over in her hands. She liked to hear the way Owain sounded on their tongues. It was as if they created their own refuge away from everything else. She felt safe. It was evident in the way she carried herself and the glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

Kit raised her glass in response before drinking. “When the Prince was born, it was the happiest day of my life. There are not many children in the castle. When he laughs, I am almost convinced there is no evil in this world.” She spoke with a tenderness that only a mother could feel.

She turned to Maddox then. She leaned in at the edge of her seat, their faces inches away from each other as she studied him, a playful smile on her face. She held it for a moment before leaning back into her seat and nodding.

“You would trade your sword for a spear in a heartbeat if you could.” Kit seemed pleased with herself, as if she had divined a secret. But Maddox only frowned, pushing her glass towards her.

“My place is at your side, my lady,” Maddox said, shaking his head. “I will see the sea again when I meet my makers and not before.”

Kit looked stricken, her hand shaking as she took a sip from her glass.

HARLAND:

Harland watched as they examined the trinkets. There was a certain sadness on Maddox's face, a longing there he had not seen before. It was something Harland himself understood, though in a different sense. He longed for the sea just as much as he longed for the Wildlands. They were a place of peace for him. To Maddox, they had been home, once.

The Duke tore his eyes away to watch the blonde as she drank and spoke, a small, thin smile on his face. The birth of the Prince was just another nail in the coffin of Midsummer. But he was a child. Children had no say who their parents were, not even if they are chosen by them. Harland bid him no ill will, despite who his father was.

He was hardly surprised his guess had been correct.

Turning to look at the guard once more, Harland's heart skipped when he denied her guess. The Duke shook his head, a small sad smile on his face.

"You can both see the sea, my lady. When you are better suited for travel, I will escort you both." The Owain he spoke now was differently accented, that which Maddox's father would speak. It was as much a promise as it was a declaration. He would not let the guard keep his roots buried, not when it meant it would bury a part of himself, and certainly not for him or for Kit.

"You would like to see the sea, my lady, as much for your guard as you would yourself. I do not blame you. It is said to have healing properties. I suppose I can attest to that." He gave a small toast before sipping from his glass.

KIT/MADDOX:

Maddox swallowed hard as he watched Kit. Once again, he found himself walking a dangerous line. Only this time it was with Kit Scarlet. Which was more damning, he wondered, a Seelie Duke or an Unseelie King’s mistress?

Kit stared back. Without hair or even eyelashes to hide behind, she felt as naked as a newborn. She did not want to see the things she saw in Maddox’s gaze. It was too dangerous to give a name to. The King already was considering killing him once they returned to Midsummer. If he suspected her protests on Maddox’s behalf were due to-

She felt her heart pounding in her throat and was eternally grateful that Harland broke the silence with his proposal. It was as if he was throwing them a lifeline.

“I think I might want to see the ships even more than the sea, but yes.” She said, taking a much longer drink than necessary.

Somehow Maddox looked even more forlorn. For all intents and purposes, he was lost to the Shark Clan the day he fought under Unseelie banners. It was said his own father no longer spoke his name. But these were not things to be discussed, not here. Regardless of his feelings, he would not jeopardize his position with the Nighthawks. He would have to speak with Harland later.

HARLAND:

For his own peace of mind, the Duke kept his gaze even, eyes cordially downcast, as he waited for the pair to cease their staring match. Just as he had done before, Harland wondered what lay beneath the veneer, the thin wall that separated them for propriety's sake.

There was more than enough evidence for Harland to file away, to keep to himself or use as he saw fit, but there was no point in any of it. One way or another, they were damned. It did not matter who let the final stroke fall, did it? Besides, he knew he could not harm Maddox that way. Kit...well she was a mystery on her own. But to harm her would be to harm Maddox, and Harland did not have the heart for either option.

Things he had believed he should hate stared him in the eye and his heart skipped instead. It was a true puzzle, but Harland found he did not wish to solve it.

Still, when Kit spoke, Harland found himself nodding along, a small upturn of his lip indicating a smile. "They are lovely, yes. Well-made. The men who use them know what they are doing. I, unfortunately, do not. I've an idea, but was never...the man who was to teach me...he died, during the war, before I could be enlisted to the front." The Duke stared down into his glass for a moment, shoulders drooping, before indicating for someone else to speak their turn.

KIT/ MADDOX:

Kit smiled at Harland. “It will be an adventure then. For all of us to learn.” She wished she knew how to ease the sadness that seemed to envelop the men near her.

Maddox took a long drink before turning to face Kit, his gaze unreadable even to her.

“You still don’t hate Balthazar. Even though you want to.”

Kit frowned and drank from her glass. Maddox seemed to wait for an explanation, but Kit gave none. Instead, she turned to Harland, her expression blank.

“While disappointed, you are not surprised that Balthazar Black is capable of nearly killing me.”

HARLAND:

He returned Kit's smile with one of his own, one that was not as soft but it was genuine all the same. It eased a bit of the sadness in the room, but there it still hung between them all, like a thick fog.

Maddox's guess was true and so Kit drank. The guard's face was unreadable, but Harland did not linger on the thought of it long. Kit had turned her mischievous eye to him, now, and the Duke steeled himself for her questions.

He laughed. The sound was unsurprised. Harland shook his head and drank deeply. "They call him the Black Dragon for a reason, my lady. I have tried to garner something like...trust in him, from the people. I have tried." He splayed his hands, shook his head. "But it is a thankless job when the man you are trying to save damns himself as often as he is able. While he saved my life, he has almost ended it, as well. Such is how things go."

Steepling his fingers beneath on the tabletop, Harland turned his eye to the faerie across from him. There was nothing harsh about his face. Instead, only a curiosity.

"You miss your family."

KIT/ MADDOX:

There was something almost like nostalgia in the smile she gave Harland. She could see Balthazar in her mind’s eyes as he was when they were younger. The same damning ferocity and passion. If she had been alone, she would have broken down into sobs. But instead, she downed her drink and reached for the bottle.

Maddox raised an eyebrow at Harland before taking a drink. “I have a sister I would have liked to see grow up. I hear she’s done it without me. Grown to be quite ferocious if the whispers are to be believed.” His voice was quiet. He spoke of his sister the way those in mourning speak of their dead. To Maddox, his family was even less accessible than the dead. At least you could visit the dead where they rested. But Maddox? Maddox was likely to be speared on sight if he entered Shark clan territory.

He turned to Kit, but Kit raised a hand as she filled her cup far more than a woman of her size should. “I’ve decided it’s not fair my shadow should ask me questions. I can keep no secrets from you,” she said, without a trace of malice. “Besides, what if you were to take advantage of my drunken state?”

Maddox guffawed.

“I have peeled you off the floor of every godsforken tavern in Midsummer, my lady, but as you wish.” He replied, motioning to Harland.

HARLAND:

The Duke smiled a bit and nodded. "I'm certain she is. Runs in the family, or so I hear." He gave a bit of a cheeky wink and took a drink before turning away from the ma. There were some things to be said for the questions he asked, and he would not push further than he was warranted. But, if he had an inkling of who Maddox's sister was he was certain that the guard would know he was right.

Rather than speak any further, Harland quirked his own brow at the woman, a quiet laugh escaping him at the banter between the two, a genuine smile at the laughter that came from the guard. With the way she could drink, it was hardly a surprise, if Harland was being honest. Standing quietly, the Duke collected the empty bottle and walked it over to the sill near the stores.

He grabbed another bottle and came back with it, gesturing helplessly as he placed it on the table in front of the pair. "I think we will need another, hm?"

Settling back down into his seat with a sigh, Harland studied first Kit and then Maddox before giving a tired sigh.

"All of our lives were changed by the war, in more ways than we could have ever anticipated."

He toasted them both and then drank.

#ch: kit #featuring: maddox maziac #c: sound of silence #r: hardoxx #abuse tw #manipulation tw #victim blaming tw #//okay so FUN FACT #//this thing was 41 fucking pages long #r: harlet

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