#silver and galahad would be so. like what do you mean you got to be raised in a relatively healthy environment with a dad and stability

[futuristichedge]

Fic so good u start imagining more fic for it

[tickle-bugs]

The Ol' Kentucky Welcome

Summary: Eggsy’s attitude gets him into trouble at Statesman HQ. Whiskey and Tequila show him how they handle mouthy recruits with too much pride.

Anon: Hey!  Love your work.  I was trying to think of something I haven't read.  So, kingsman and golden circle.  Maybe eggsy, whiskey, and Tatum s characters get real drunk one night, start teasing each other and a full out brawl of a tickle fight happens!!!  You can do it!!!  Thanks! 

Loose handwaving at and spoilers for Kingsman: The Golden Circle.

Becoming a Kingsman had done wonders for Eggsy’s impulse control and sense of self. He’s got restraint now, and better judgement—he doesn’t blindly chase a whim without considering the consequences first. 

This is what he tells himself as he poaches a bottle of premium Statesman Reserve whiskey from a supply closet rather ominously labeled ‘This Ain’t For Sharing, Friend’. He makes sure to shuffle the bottles to disguise the large gap left behind on the shelf.

He settles in at the Statesman briefing room table, loosening his tie and shirt collar. He unbuttons his jacket and, in a rare flash of bad manners, kicks his feet up onto one of the nearby chairs.

The thought of Harry scolding him for it tugs at chest. 

“Now what do we have here?” Whiskey whistles lowly, ducking into the doorway. Tequila fits in beside him. Eggsy gives a mocking salute before popping the cork on the bottle. He grabs a polished crystal glass from a platter on the table and pours himself a hefty bit. 

“Looks to me like we’ve got a thief, Whiskey.” Tequila arches his brow. “Y’ain’t learned your lesson yet, Galahad?”

“Gentlemen.” Eggsy smirks and lifts his glass. The sharp kiss of the liquor burns his tongue, but it washes back with a smoky smoothness unlike anything he'd ever tried. He smacks his lips loudly, enjoying the slight twitch of Whiskey’s eyebrow in response.

“Thought you fancy-types were supposed to be polite.” Whiskey puts his hands on his hips. 

“And I thought you brutish types couldn’t make something so delicious.” Eggsy angles the glass in the light. The liquid seems to glow. 

Tequila ducks past Whiskey and takes a seat at the table, helping himself to a glass. He clinks glasses with Eggsy and they share another sip. Both of them sigh in unison, sinking deeper into their chairs. Whiskey throws Eggsy’s feet off his chair and takes a seat. 

“You’re lucky I ain’t reportin’ you to Ginger Ale for theft.” Whiskey fixes himself a glass. He takes off his hat and rests it on the table. He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair.

“Report me for what?” Eggsy cocks his head. “You fine, upstanding gentlemen cracked open a bottle of your own reserve to share with your guest and I just had to say yes. Would hate to be impolite.”

Whiskey glares. Eggsy sips innocently. 

“I like this motherfucker, Whiskey.” Tequila laughs, muffling himself in his fist. Whiskey shifts his glare. 

“‘Course you do. You can’t keep your mug outta trouble to save your life.” 

“Least my mug ain’t ugly,” Tequila grumbles. Eggsy snorts. Whiskey turns to fish for a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. As he leans forward, a silver shine peeks out of his pants pocket. Eggsy gently plucks a shiny lighter from Whiskey’s pocket and tucks it into his own. 

“Champagne mentioned you’re a cheeky bugger.” Eggsy knocks shoulders with Tequila and winks.

“I dunno what that means.” Tequila frowns. They both watch Whiskey fumble around for the lost lighter and keep smooth, straight expressions. 

“You get into shit. He’s fond of you?” Eggsy gestures at him. Tequila nods. 

“Yeah, well…he wasn’t always. I’ve always been a bit of a firecracker. Didn’t make the best choices. Got people hurt. Built up a reputation for bein’ a problem, and Champagne started makin’ me own it.” Tequila watches his whiskey swirl in his glass. Eggsy hums thoughtfully.

“Sounds like Harry. He didn’t let me get away with shit. If I did something reckless, it was my arse on the line. But sometimes it paid off.” Eggsy smiles and thinks of stealing Harry’s cab on his way out of initiation. 

“To good mentors.” Tequila inclines his head respectfully and raises his glass. Eggsy clinks their glasses together. 

The three of them pass the time draining the bottle and looking out over the twinkling lights of the distillery buildings. A boyish mischief settles into Tequila, one that grows as the liquor in the bottle sinks. Whiskey starts to slur his words, but he maintains a hunter’s focus. 

“Tell me somethin’, Eggsy. What brought you to Kingsman?” Whiskey watches him over the rim of his glass. His stare is piercing. 

“Hm. Harry did. Not so different from Tequila, I reckon. I’d made a right fuckin’ mess and Harry saved me from it. Gave me a job. He saw something in me that no one else did.” Eggsy traces his fingers along the edge of his cup. He glances absently towards Harry’s cell and sighs quickly. Whiskey follows his gaze. 

“Did your lepidopterist friend teach you to have sticky fingers, or do you just like causin’ problems?” Whiskey holds his hand out. Eggsy rolls his eyes and hands over the stolen lighter.

“I’ve always been good at nicking things. S’fun.” Eggsy grins and produces Whiskey’s wallet. Whiskey grumbles under his breath and snatches it. 

“Feels like you’re the only one of your people that ain’t all hoity-toity. What other secrets are you hiding?” Tequila leans forward. The question grates against Eggsy’s better instincts. He searches Tequila’s face for the slightest bit of ill will. All that sticks is the way light catches softly on his eyes. Eggsy hums and turns his eyes to the ceiling to think.

“Well, my girlfriend bein’ a princess isn’t much of a secret anymore, so…I was a gymnast for a bit.” Eggsy grins. Tequila’s eyes light up and he starts snapping in Whiskey’s direction. For each snap, Whiskey gives a disgruntled hm until eventually they’re just swatting at each other. 

“Whiskey, don’t we have them flippy bars down in the gym?” Tequila sniffs, blinking as the liquor hits his sinuses. Eggsy perks up. A spark of excitement picks up atop the warm flush of liquor in his stomach. 

“We do. For Statesman agents. Y’know Rum and Cognac get real touchy ‘bout their stuff.” Whiskey raises an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re workin’ together now, ain’t we? ‘Sides, Rum and Cognac ain’t here. Let’s walk him down there. I wanna see what he can do.” Tequila claps Eggsy on the shoulder. Eggsy gives his best winning smile. Whiskey grumbles, then downs the rest of his glass. 

“Fuck it. Fine. Five minutes.” 

…

They stumble down to the Statesman training facility, passing by a very tired Ginger Ale who opts not to ask why Eggsy’s wearing Tequila’s hat (pretty simple, it’s ‘cause he nicked it). Whiskey puts his thumb to a scanner and the wall unfolds for them. 

The lights click on in rows, lighting the industrial space. Eggsy gasps like a kid on Christmas morning. 

Sophisticated weight training and combat equipment sit in neat rows. Eggsy locks in directly past that, drifting unconsciously towards a heaping pile of chalk bags. Pommel horses, beams, bars, and hanging rings sprawl out on a spring mat, all in pristine condition. A few launchpads and trampolines lay near the equipment. Eggsy laughs incredulously as he takes it in. Nostalgia flutters in his chest. 

Eggsy immediately unbuttons his shirt, folding it cleanly and crisply. He shoves it and the cowboy hat into Tequila’s arms, adjusts his tank top, then works to unlace his shoes. The moment his feet are free, he sprints for one of the springboards. He hits it clean, just like he’d learned, and pushes off the vault, twisting through the air. His landing is a bit messy, but it’s functional, and he takes off to the parallel bars next.

The alcohol writhes in his system, but he doesn’t care. How can he? It’s been years. Coach’d told him he was good enough for the fucking Olympics and he hadn’t touched a set of bars since. The flex of the bars is a comfort to him. He flips and twirls, holding crisp handstands and tucks through muscle memory alone.

He dismounts beautifully from the parallel bars to the pleasant thrum of adrenaline and a smattering of applause. 

“Hoowee, that was somethin’!” Tequila ruffles Eggsy’s hair, destroying the last hold of the gel on his head. Eggsy laughs and swats him away. 

��Hats off to you, kid. Takes a lot of skill to pull that off.” Whiskey nods in respect. Eggsy returns it. 

“I ain’t gonna lie, I thought you were gonna fall on your ass. I’m impressed.” Tequila slugs his shoulder with a brassy laugh. 

“Thanks, Tequila.” Eggsy grins roguishly. “Mind givin’ me a boost?” 

“Sure.” Tequila follows Eggsy over to the high bar. Whiskey loudly clears his throat. 

“Boys, this has been…eye-openin’, but we really should get goin’. Early start tomorrow, I imagine. And this one’ll be fit to collapse when the time difference catches up.” Whiskey inclines his head towards Eggsy. 

“Sorry, bruv? Can’t hear you all the way over there.” Eggsy gestures to his ear with a cheeky grin. 

“I said—“

“No, no. If you have something to say, come whisper it in my fucking ear.” Eggsy snickers, hearing Merlin’s voice in his head. Whiskey rolls his eyes and saunters over. 

“Look, I respect you ‘cause Champagne respects you. Other than that, you’re still a brat that oughta fall into line. Let’s turn in for the night. Both of you.” Whiskey raises his eyebrow. The honey tones of his voice make his annoyance all the more amusing. 

“What’re you gonna do about it? Get me with your skipping rope?” Eggsy smirks. Tequila mutters a quiet aw hell and takes a step back. 

“Maybe I will, you little shit.” 

Eggsy comes to terms with a number of things about himself in that moment, and he puts them all away to process sober. Instead, he gestures for Tequila to give him a hand and reaches up for the bar. 

Tequila picks him up by the waist, and it’s not the smooth, assisted lift he’s used to. It’s the clumsy grip of a drunk surprised by weight. Tequila does lift Eggsy up to the bar, but at the cost of his dignity— he spasms and makes a high-pitched noise when Tequila’s fingers press into his waist.  

In hindsight, he should’ve seen the way Whiskey’s eyes narrowed at that. 

“What the hell was that?” Tequila squints up at him. 

“Nothin’. Thought you were gonna drop me. Bugger off.” Eggsy kicks weakly in Tequila’s direction. He backs up, hands raised. Whiskey steps in, hands on his belt. 

“Get off the bar, Eggsy.” Whiskey sniffs authoritatively. The logical Kingsman agent buried in Eggsy’s brain sets off warning bells, but Drunk Eggsy, who is obviously of much sounder mind, ignores it. 

“Make me, Whiskey.” Eggsy starts to swing in the space he has. Not enough to kick anyone, but enough to look like he will. He manages to rotate clumsily around the bar once, then hangs back down in front of Whiskey. 

“You want me to embarrass you in front of your new friend? Okay.” Whiskey steps up to Eggsy and makes a show of sizing him up. Then, quicker than the draw of his pistols, his hands latch onto Eggsy’s sides and squeeze until he’s screaming and plummeting off the bar. Eggsy’s short life flashes before his eyes as he falls bodily into Tequila’s arms. 

“Are you fucking mental?” Eggsy goes to shove Whiskey, but Tequila holds him back. 

“Woah, watch that mouth of yours!” Whiskey laughs, eyes glittering. “You told me to make you. Your wish is my command, friend.”

Eggsy kicks, trying to break Tequila's hold, and he catches Whiskey right in the balls. He makes a noise like a wounded donkey and folds over. Eggsy snickers. Whiskey whips his reddening face up and glares. 

“Now you’ve done it. Tequila!” Whiskey tosses something his way and he catches it. Eggsy barely has time to react before his arms are bound and hoisted in the air above his head. His toes brush the ground. The bar above him creaks in protest but does not give. 

Whiskey puts his hands on his hips again. Eggsy wonders if that’s a cowboy thing or an American one. 

“Skippin’ rope, bitch.” Whiskey grins, sharklike. “Now…you done with the whole insubordination routine or am I gonna have to give you the ol’ Kentucky Welcome?” 

Eggsy snorts derisively. He tests his bindings. They hold steady. Fear starts to pierce through his liquid courage. 

“I’m honored, bruv, but I’m in a committed relationship—“

Whiskey clicks his tongue and crowds into Eggsy’s space. He immediately steels himself for violence—what else would there be besides violence? He’s been jumped before. He’s no stranger to the predatory tilt of Whiskey’s head. He sets his jaw and glares. 

“When Tequila first joined up, he carried a bit of them clownin’ instincts with him. That didn’t fly with Champagne. We had to figure out a way to take him down a few pegs without hurtin’ him. So, the Kentucky Welcome was born.” 

“Aw, fuck you, Whiskey. Seriously, man.” Tequila pipes up from behind Eggsy. 

“What does this have to do with me? I know you Americans love to hear yourself talk, but I’m not interested.” Eggsy tries to pull free. Nothing. Whiskey’s gaze gets softer, more mischievous. The change is deeply unnerving. 

“Well, you remind me of Tequila. You’ve clearly got a good head on your shoulders, but you’re a little shit. So I’m gonna deal with you the same way we used to deal with him. Last chance, kid. You comin’ quietly or are we gonna have to drag you?” 

Eggsy flinches when Whiskey reaches for him—years of habit die hard—and prepares himself for the hard crunch of knuckles into his ribs. Instead, he’s met with a gentle and persistent scritching. 

A confused noise bubbles up at the back of Eggsy’s throat, quickly chased by a wobbly smile. He ducks his head and bites his lip. 

Oh what the fuck? 

Kingsman had taught him to resist the most painful and stressful of scenarios, but they’d never taught him what to do about this. Tilde’s maybe the only person who knows that he’s ticklish, and even then…he can convince her to let him go by kissing her senseless. Eggsy doubts that’ll work here. 

“Uh oh, Galahad. Don’t tell me something’s botherin’ you?” Whiskey presses an insincere hand to his heart. Eggsy’s brain stutters for a moment as he realizes that Tequila’s the one scratching at his ribs. 

“Fffffuck you.” Eggsy exhales sharply through his nose and closes his eyes--nope, that’s worse. So much worse. 

Whiskey tickles under his arms and Eggsy yelps, bright laughter tumbling after. It shouldn’t be this bad—Tilde’s done far worse to him in jest, but somehow the teasing grin of his begrudging allies gets under his skin. His arms flex as he tries to pull himself up and away, but his strength collapses with every breath. 

“Aw, y’all are twins.” Whiskey leans around Eggsy to smirk at Tequila. 

“Whiskey.” Tequila’s languished tone being hilarious really doesn’t help things. Eggsy’s entire face scrunches as he tries to find his way back towards composure. A hiccup sneaks into his chest, and then he’s giggling incessantly. His chest feels like the sparklers he’d run around with as a kid, bright and fizzling and dissolving with every breath. 

“Y’know, I wish I had tried this when I first caught y’all. Prolly woulda gone a hell of a lot faster.” Tequila’s voice floats past Eggsy’s ear. Eggsy manages a giggly growl and a halfhearted headbutt in his direction. Tequila tuts at him and folds his fingers into Eggsy’s waistline. 

He makes a noise at a pitch that threatens to shatter every lightbulb in the room. Tequila’s calloused fingers strum Eggsy’s nerves like guitar strings and it tickles, fucking shit—

Tequila hooks his fingers just so and Eggsy kicks. Whiskey snags his ankle before a second devastating impact can occur. They make tortuous eye contact. 

“Whiskey—“ Eggsy attempts to appeal to the cowboy’s humanity with what Merlin fondly calls his nuclear puppy eyes. 

Grinning wickedly, Whiskey shakes his head and reaches for his trapped foot. 

Eggsy’s eyes bug out of his head. 

He wrenches his leg free, twists his hands, and flips upwards. Managing a gold-worthy handstand into a dismount, he frees his wrists and lands smoothly. Eggsy playfully curtsies. Tequila starts to clap. Whiskey smacks him upside the head.

“Alright, I’m done playin’ around. Grab him. If we’re caught down here at this hour it’ll be my hide.” Whiskey gestures for Tequila to step in. He does so, still a little off-kilter from the liquor. 

Eggsy rushes in, expecting a clumsier rendition of the fighting style he’d been so painfully introduced to. Instead, Tequila smoothly blocks his blows and hoists Eggsy over his shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes. One of his arms locks behind Eggsy’s thighs as they start to walk for the door. It takes him a moment to even process being upside-down. The sway of Tequila’s gait shakes some blood into his brain.

“Aw, y’all are twins.”

“—deal with you the same way we used to deal with him—“

A lightbulb clicks on in Eggsy’s head. He shouldn’t…but he could…but he shouldn’t—

He shoves his hands under Tequila’s arms. Before he can blink or breathe, they’re in a heap on the ground. Tequila’s cackling dead weight presses the air from Eggsy’s chest.

“Thought you’d put up more of a fight, bruv.” Eggsy’s eyebrows raise. Tequila shrieks at him in response. Eggsy manages to wiggle free and hop lightly to his feet as Tequila gathers his wits. 

“There’s one of you and two of us. Be wise.” Whiskey cracks his neck. Eggsy looks over at Tequila and smirks devilishly. Tequila pales. 

“I like those odds.” 

The flurry of motion as they charge each other sets off the ‘fight’ center in his brain, but there is some comfort in knowing no harm is on the table. Eggsy flips and twists out of their grasp, taking advantage of his flexibility to pull off increasingly ridiculous dodges. He neatly sweeps both Whiskey and Tequila’s legs out from under them. 

“Little help?” Whiskey gestures lamely at Tequila. 

“Nah, I’m done. Y’all are nuts.” Tequila lays on his back, putting his hat down over his face. He folds his arms behind his head. Whiskey curses at him. Tequila gives him the finger. 

Whiskey grabs Eggsy by the back of the shirt--really, he should know better--and Eggsy sweeps him again. Whiskey’s ready for it this time, though, and he manages a pin faster than Eggsy can roll away. Whiskey plants himself on Eggsy’s back like he’s settling on a bull. 

“Aren’t you tired? Goddamn.” Whiskey sighs. Eggsy winces at the texture of the mat against his cheek. 

It reminds him of Roxy and agonizing training sessions, of hours of sweat and bruising and his face stinging from being slammed into the mat. Even past the wave of grief, he remembers the shape of her smile when she would lecture him about letting her pin him on his stomach. 

“Indefensible,” she’d say, prodding the back of his ribs. “You’re a sitting duck like this.”

And every time he’d roll his eyes, hooking his fingers behind her knees--

Oh. Hm. 

As best as he can, he reaches back and latches onto Whiskey’s thigh, squeezing just above his knee. Whiskey hollers and tries to phase right through the floor. Eggsy rolls them over and pursues, squeezing and squeezing until Whiskey is a wheezing pile on the floor. 

Eggsy flips onto his feet. He knows he’s imagining the fond, ghostly squeeze on his shoulder, but he puts his hand on the spot anyways. 

“Now I’m tired. Goodnight, fellas.” Eggsy salutes with a wide grin, stepping over both cowboys. He gathers his belongings and saunters for the door, whistling pleasantly. 

Whiskey rubs a hand over his face as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Kid’s fuckin’ lucky I like him,” Whiskey grumbles, pushing himself up onto his elbows. 

“Might not wanna speak too soon. He took your hat.” Tequila puts his own ten-gallon back on his head and gestures towards the door with a whistle. Whiskey growls and shoots to his feet. 

“Motherfucker! Eggsy!”

[fandomwriterstuff]

A Seat at the Round Table (3)

Mob!Stucky x Female Reader

Rated T

~1.8k words

Sharon lived in what must have been one of the nicest apartments you’d ever seen. It was clean, spacious, and full of sleek white and silver accents.

When Sam let you in a few minutes prior, he mentioned he would be staying with you until Sharon got back from her meeting. That’s how you ended up sitting at a marble countertop on a cushioned barstool drinking a frozen margarita while Sam finished pacing around the place. You assumed he was checking for recording devices or signs of a problem. Soon enough he sat at the counter and next to you. 

“You’re not having a marg?” You asked, voice sort of dull as the shock of it all set in. 

“One of us has to be alert,” he smirked and tipped his glass of ice water towards you. “Cheers.”

“So what’s your fancy codename, then?” You asked. You knew Nimueh was the Lady of the Lake. Arthur was the king and Merlin his sorcerer. You had to look up Dagonet as he wasn’t mentioned in BBC’s Merlin. You had huffed out a breath when you found out from Google that Dagonet was the court jester. Your father was a joke to them. 

“Usually we go by our aliases and not our real names, so you should know me as Galahad,” he rolled his eyes. “Sharon seems to trust you for some reason and so she told you her own name. As well as mine, apparently.”

“You must be a trustworthy guy if they’re calling you that. Wasn’t he supposed to be the most noble and pure of knights?” You asked, trying to remember what you’d seen on TV.

Sam only chuckled.

“Honestly I assumed it was just a random Arthurian name, but now that you say that,” he paused to roll his eyes dramatically. “Sounds like something Arthur would do. He’s all about significance and deeper meanings of things.”

You smiled at the thought of someone painstakingly coming up with related nicknames for his close friends and colleagues that actually resonated with their personalities. 

“When I was in high school we had a group chat and once every few months we would pick a theme and change all of our names in the group chat. Whether it was Lord of the Rings, Doctor Seuss, Harry Potter… We always had nicknames based on our personalities,” you smiled at the memory. You hadn’t seen your high school friends in so long. Really, you hadn’t spoken to them since a little after graduation when they all went off to college far away and you were stuck staying in the city and commuting from home. 

“Hey, what’s that look for?” Sam’s tone changed and you smiled ruefully.

“Just thinking about the last time I had friends.” You didn’t dare look up and see the pity on his face so you sipped at your margarita before throwing a smile on. “Don’t worry about me. I may seem fragile and sheltered, but it’s going to take more than a little loneliness to hurt me.”

It was right then that a key turned in the lock, and you turned to see Sharon walk through wearing the same sleek gray pants suit she wore when you saw her at Starbucks earlier on. 

“I see you’ve started without me,” she offered you a smile as you sipped the frozen cocktail.

“It was Sam’s idea,” you added and the man in question gasped dramatically.

“Damn, throw me under the bus, why don’t you?” His comment had you all laughing, but soon enough it was time to get down to business. Luckily this kind of business still allowed you to sit at the counter and drink. It was mostly Sam and Sharon deactivating the GPS in your cell phone and talking about a meeting with their bosses tomorrow. 

“You should come with us tomorrow to meet them,” Sharon threw the words in your direction and you swallowed thickly.

“Won’t I be intruding?” You wondered aloud. Sharon shook her head though.

“No, when I spoke to them earlier they expressed their interest in meeting you. They don’t want to threaten you or anything, they just want to know what had your father keeping such secrets for such a long time,” Sharon added and you nodded. You were inclined to believe her, but you  still had a nagging feeling that they were going to use you as leverage against your father. You didn’t want them to hurt him, but your own self-preservation was even stronger than your fear that they would hurt your father. You didn’t want them to hurt you. You weren’t involved in his shady business and you were a little resentful that he had gotten you into this. 

“When?” You asked, yawning. The stress of the day was getting to you and your body was tired.

“We’ll go over around lunch. You’ll have time to get ready. I can help with that,” Sharon added and you nodded again. It would be a long night for you if the anxiety about meeting the mysterious Merlin and Arthur was going to keep bothering you. 

You tossed and turned for a while before falling into a restless sleep in Sharon’s guest bed.

When the morning came, Sharon helped you pick out an outfit from your bag. After that she left you alone to apply makeup and mess with your hair to try and look presentable. You weren’t sure why, but you wanted to make a good impression. But no matter how hard you tried, your eyes looked so tired and your complexion was paler than usual. Stress was getting to you. 

“Y/N?” Sharon popped her head into the bathroom. “I had Sam grab you some Starbucks. I wasn’t sure if you drank coffee so I just got you the same drink you had yesterday,” she came through the crack between the door and the wall and you noticed the large plastic cup in her hand. 

“Thank you,” your automatic response was to be shocked. That was quite thoughtful of her, and you took the drink from her hand with a soft smile. “I’m almost ready.”

“Good. I like to think of putting makeup on as getting ready for battle. I know you’re scared and nervous, but you aren’t guilty of anything. Remember that, and you’ll be okay. I’ll be waiting in the kitchen,” and with that, you were alone again. You didn’t expect to like Sharon as much as you did. She was growing on you. 

The drive to see Merlin and Arthur was full of anxiety, but Sam and Sharon were with you. So, you felt a modicum of safety. They weren’t going to hurt you and they could probably take on anyone who wanted to. 

You finally pulled up to a large manor. It was elaborate and not something you expected. 

“The brave woman conquers her fears,” you whispered to yourself as you walked up a grand staircase towards the front doors. You were walking behind Sam and Sharon, so that when they were greeted at the door you couldn’t see at first who opened it. 

“Nimueh, Galahad. Glad you could make it,” the voice was feminine, but you could see two pairs of feet past your two new acquaintances. 

“And we’re glad to see you brought your new friend,” the next voice was masculine, and you wondered who these were. 

“Natasha, Gwaine. Good to see you,” Sharon replied and you raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to be the bearer of bad news, but I am pretty confident that Natasha is not a fancy Arthurian legend,” you spoke up from behind your two… guards? They parted to the sides to allow you to view the two who opened the doors. One was a striking redheaded woman and the other a gruff-looking muscular blonde man. The redhead (Natasha?) grinned at you and it reminded you of when you first met Sharon. 

“I don’t have an alias because I want my enemies to know my name, so when they look at me as they take their last breaths they know who to pray to for mercy,” her voice was low and you felt a shot of adrenaline skitter through your veins as your fight or flight response was activated. 

“Right, that’s not terrifying at all,” you nodded with tight lips, unsure how to proceed as you felt a slight sweat begin at the base of your spine. Natasha only grinned.

“Don’t let her freak you out,” the blonde known as Gwaine added. “I mean, she totally is scary but you’re not on her list so you’re all good.”

“List? What list?” You asked, but they ignored your panicked question and Sharon and Sam ushered you into a grand entrance hall. You tuned out the four of them chatting as you took in the beautiful artwork and architecture. It was grand and elaborate and classy. You wanted to paint it. 

You continued looking around as you were escorted towards another grand doorway. You could get lost here. 

But before you knew it, the doors were opening, you were being pushed through, and all four of the people you were just with remained outside as they closed the doors behind you. Your heartbeat ratcheted up as you were blinded by the bright sunlight coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It took a moment to adjust as you squinted your eyes, but eventually you came to see the men before you.

They sat with their backs to the windows, eyes glued to your frame as you took a few steps forward. 

You had to assume the blonde was Arthur and the brunet was Merlin. The blonde was backlit by the sun and his hair shone like liquid gold, his light blue eyes piercing through the room. You could feel his gaze, and you had never felt more like prey than you did in that moment. The brunet was also backlit, but his dark halo of hair wasn’t the only thing gleaming in the sun. His sleeves were rolled up and you could see one strong flesh arm and one shiny metal one crossed in front of his chest. 

You stood ramrod straight, chin up and hands at your sides as you assessed the situation. You hoped you looked strong, but the way your cheeks felt flushed, your palms clammed up, and the way you could hear your blood flow rushing in your ears… You felt like you were approaching a guillotine. 

“Am I going to have to stand here all day, or are you going to introduce yourselves?” You asked after several moments of silence and prolonged eye contact. Luckily your voice didn’t waver. You were answered with matching grins, their eyes boring into you. Yet again you were reminded that they had the high ground here. All you could think as there was another beat of silence was: fuck.

Part 2 Part 4

[sheerfreesia007]

Access Granted

Title: Access Granted

Fandom: Kingsman

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x OFC

Author: @sheerfreesia007​

Words: 1,719

Warnings: Fluff

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Author Notes: This is a sequel to Roadside Assistance. I’ve got one more part planned for these two but I am open to more ideas where these two could interact in the workplace. The only theme I have would be that one of them has to help the other in some way. So if you have any suggestions please send them in!

Gif Credit: @a-gent-galahad

You huffed softly as you turned down another long hallway that was as drab and gray as the last one that you had walked down. Slowing your steps you tried to listen for any signs of life from the closed doors on either side of the hallway, unfortunately you didn’t hear anything. Looking down at your cell phone you groaned in agitation as you saw that you still didn’t have any service, so you wouldn’t be able to call Mrs. Brew in this situation to help you out.

Coming to a set of double doors you flung them open in your frustration and gasped as you entered into a large hangar that was covered by a ginormous curved metal roof. Stepping through the doors you tripped in your black pumps as your feet hit the concrete.

“They have a hangar?! How are they able to hide a hangar in a distillery?!” you whisper shouted in shock and slight frustration as you began to wander around the hangar. You spotted a few fighter jets that you recognized from previous wars as you moved about the hangar talking to yourself. “This is just a great first day isn’t it?! Not only am I late for my very first shift but I blew a tire and have to go get it changed out. Plus I don’t have an I.D. badge or a proxy card to get into my work area. And now I’m lost.” you moan out feeling dejected and beyond frustrated with the day already.

*-*-*-*

Jack nodded his head as he listened to Gary explain to him what he was fixing on the Silver Pony when he heard a soft distressed voice off to his left. Furrowing his brows he climbed down from the jet after Gary pointed towards the old war planes from his spot in the cockpit. Jack walked slowly towards the area listening to the voice continue to speak.

“I am going to get fired on my first day here. They are going to think that I’m not reliable or professional.” said the voice softly and Jack tilted his head as he heard the clear pure distress in the voice. “And why didn’t security walk me to my work area?! They knew that there was a problem with my I.D. badge and I don’t have a proxy card yet. They really should’ve walked me to my area. I mean, honestly, I’m in the damn hangar by myself.”

Peeking around one of the World War II jets, Jack spotted the pretty woman from this morning on the interstate, she was walking around the hangar gazing at the C-47 Skytrain that Statesmen had acquired over the years. He smiled as she stared up at the plane in awe with her arms crossed over her chest as she huffed softly.

“Not completely alone.” Jack spoke up and the woman whirled around in surprise as she yelped softly. Jack held up his hands in faux surrender to show that he wasn’t any danger to her.

“You!” she gasped out softly as she pressed a hand to her chest above her heart and Jack watched her silently as she caught her breath and calmed herself down. “Jack Daniels, right?” she asked, still sounding out of breath while Jack nodded his head in response. “Do you work here?” she asked furrowing her brows at him and Jack smiled as he nodded his head at her again. “I’m so sorry to keep bumping into you like this. I’m lost and today is my first day. Security said that there was a problem with my I.D. and proxy card but they just let me go with a set of directions. But the hallways all look the same and I got turned around in that maze.” She began to ramble and Jack smiled softly at her nervous attitude.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry I will get you to where you need to go.” Jack promised gently as he took a step closer to her. “Are you working with Mrs. Brew?” he asked softly and she nodded her head quickly in response. Just then the radio on Jack’s hip crackled and someone came over the airwaves.

“Please be advised there is a new female employee lost in the building. She’s wearing a black suit jacket, a navy blue button up blouse and black dress pants. If anyone finds her please direct her to the Information Technology department. Thank you.” said Mrs. Brew over the radio and Jack watched with amusement as the woman in front of him hung her head.

“I am so getting fired.” she lamented softly and Jack chuckled at her antics.

“Don’t worry I doubt you’re getting fired. Just a rough start on your first day.” Jack said, trying to reassure the woman who looked over at him with a pitiful look on her face. “Mrs. Brew will understand.”

“I hope so.” she said softly as Jack began to guide her towards the hangar doors that she entered from.

“I’ve got her Mrs. Brew. We’re on our way over to you.” Jack keyed up on the radio and relayed the information. Mrs. Brew thanked him and said she’d see them soon. Jack easily opened the door and held it as the woman walked through it. “We’ll have to take two elevators and a few hallways to get there. But it won’t be too long.” Jack advised as he began walking her down the hallway.

“Oh I was that lost huh?” she asked softly and Jack grinned down at her.

“Yeah but you were found by the best agent you could’ve been found by.” he boasted and she grinned at his confidence.

“Oh I’m sure of it.” she went along with him as she nodded her head.

“So you’re going to be working in IT?” he asked curiously as they made twists and turns in the hallways leading to the first elevator.

“Yes. Statesman actually scouted me for the position at my previous company.” she said proudly and Jack smiled down at her before stopping in front of the elevator. He pressed the up button before stepping back to stand next to her.

“That’s quite impressive.” he said in awe and she smiled as she nodded her head.

“I know, I was shocked when they offered me a position. It’s kind of a once in a lifetime type of position.” she explained and Jack nodded his head along with her words. The elevator arrived and Jack reached out his hand so that she could walk on ahead of him. “Benefits are amazing, pay is at least twice of what I was making, and the new location isn’t that bad so far. A little different but it’s a nice change.”

“Where did you live before moving to Kentucky?” Jack asked as the elevator doors closed and the elevator rose to their desired floor.

“Oh Seattle, Washington.” she responded and Jack nodded his head at her response. “Have you been there?”

“No, I can’t say I have.” he replied easily and she began to tell him all about her hometown and the best places to eat if he ever decided to go. Jack smiled softly as he leaned back in the elevator and listened to everything she had to say, obviously passionate about where she came from.

*-*-*-*

As they came to the end of their journey Jack idly found himself wanting to keep talking to her. He had learned quite a bit about the wary woman, the fact that her only family left in her life was an older brother who lived up in New York with his fiance, and that she had two cats who had made the trek out to Kentucky with her and were not fans of Kentucky yet, or even the fact that she was so nervous for her first day and it was such a disaster already made her anxiety skyrocket even more.

When he turned the corner with her and saw the double doors that would lead into the IMS department he turned to her with a hand on his bicep to stop her walking. She turned her head to look up at him and Jack smiled down at her.

“I want you to try and relax, you’ve just had a shitty first day and we all get those. Put your best foot forward and you’ll be perfectly fine.” he reassured her and she smiled widely up at him. He watched as emotion flickered along her face for a moment and then suddenly she was wrapping her arms around his middle and hugging him tightly.

“Thank you, for everything. I’m so glad that I ran into you on the interstate and here at work.” she mumbled out in thanks against his shirt and Jack grinned as he wrapped his arms around her body and hugged her back. He found that he liked the feeling of her in his arms and the comforting hug was calming to him.

When they pulled apart Jack straightened himself out with a warm smile as she coughed gently and turned away from him with a blush rising from her neck. He then began to guide her to the double doors and held one open for her. Mrs. Brew was sitting at the front desk and she beamed widely when she looked up and spotted them.

“Oh thank goodness! I was so worried you had frightened her away!” she cried happily as she quickly rushed around the desk and embraced her new employee.

“I would never.” Jack retorted softly and Mrs. Brew shushed him before shooing him away.

“Go on now, get back to work.” Mrs. Brew advised him and he chuckled softly before shaking his head. He watched as the woman looked over her shoulder at him as Mrs. Brew began leading her away talking a mile a minute about her new position. She smiled softly at him and her eyes crinkled softly at the edges making her eyes sparkle. Jack stood there frozen in place until she left his line of sight and then he was broken from the spell she had placed on him. Shaking his head he grinned as he walked out of the office, the new IMS employee was a funny enigma and he couldn’t wait to get to know her.

[salenakingston]

Charming

Nothing was ever going to be the same again…

What on earth was he thinking? It seemed since the moment he had started meeting with ‘Rev’, he had done nothing but regret it. Becoming an apprentice to ‘Rev’ seemed like a good idea, maybe learn some better social interactions that might give him some confidence to deal with all the people causing him trouble…

Not anything having to deal with magic… or causing harm to others… That wasn’t him…

He didn’t like their cruelty… but he would never think to do the same thing back…

What part of his brain really thought this was a good idea…?

It was a moment of weakness… and now he was in far too deep to just expect he could run and forget any of this ever happened…

Arthur had tried to get his life back into some sense of normalcy. With no friends, that just left him in the company of his uncle, and of course, the ever faithful Galahad. They always brought him comfort, the light in the darkness whenever he came home after a long day, or just needed a moment to try and push all his worries away. For all the good it did when they showed face every day…

Normalcy certainly came with anyone he seemed to cross paths with. It was as if nothing changed since the offer was taken. What was he supposed to expect when he wasn’t going to turn a hand against any of them with this new found power?

Actually, that wasn’t entirely true…

He had noticed one instance when a few passerbys had been poking fun at him. They were just words… That’s what he always told himself. Even so, when it began to build up over and over again, he finally raised his head up, staring back at them. Their attitude changed almost in an instant. They began to back away from him, turning the other direction, and being on their way. Arthur couldn’t help but stare in surprise. That never happened before… Was it confidence? Or a glare?

Maybe… just maybe… whatever ‘Rev’ was helping him with was working after all…!

It wasn’t until he got home he realized how wrong he was.

The first indication something was wrong was with Galahad. The hamster, up to this point, had never shown any fear in his owner… his friend… but now he was suddenly hiding under his bedding, the silver of his wheels being the only thing partly visible above the pale tan color. It was so unexpected… What did he have to fear? Arthur wasn’t ever going to hurt him.

The blond got up from his desk, done with whatever he was tinkering with. Might as well shower and prepare for bed to be ready for the next day. He felt the tense muscles in his body relax under the heat. He soon came out, making his way over to the mirror. Steam had caused it to fog over, but the sweep of a hand gave him enough to work with.

And he felt terror.

Something was wrong with his eyes.

He leaned over the sink, staring into the mirror. His eyes were still golden, his sclera still white, but it was the pupils of his eyes. Rather than being round, they were slitted. There was a strange pattern along his iris, but it was the pupil that stood out the most. It was… reptilian in a way. No no no no… this couldn’t be happening!

The blond burst out of the bathroom, racing down to his room, reaching for his phone. His movements were quick, soon enough a sound rang through the entire room. It was as if all other sounds didn’t exist aside from that ring…

Ring… Ring… 

Come on… 

Ring… Ring… 

Please…

Ring… Ri-

“Yes? How can I help you my dear apprentice?”

There was a pause on Arthur’s end. What was he even supposed to say? His body began to tremble, a soft voice snapping him out of his head, “Artie?”

“W-What’s happening to me…?” His tone was quiet, unsure of himself.

“Afraid you’re going to need to be more specific.”

“My eyes… they’re not… they’ve changed…”

There seems to be the sound of a sigh of relief on the other end, “Oh, is that all?”

“Wh-What do you mean? ‘Is that all’?”

“It’s nothing to worry about. They’re just side effects. There will be others while your body gets used to the change. In time you’ll be able to control it so you’ll still appear normal. I will help you with that.”

“H-How long will it… b-be like this…?”

“Hard to say. I’ll take a look the next time you’re here. Shouldn’t last too long, presuming you continue on with your studies.”

Arthur bit his lip. Part of him was hoping he might be able to forget about all of this… to try and go back to how it was before he met up with ‘Rev’... maybe forget about all of these… studies… forever, but now there was no backing out. Either he would continue to change like this, having no means of stopping it… accepting his fate alone, and potentially scaring everyone away from him… or he continued to see ‘Rev’... and get this all under control. At least with the latter option he could just push everything aside once he had the control he sought after. He took in a breath, “Ok…”

“Good boy. Take care, apprentice. I’ll see you soon.”

The call ended.

The blond placed his head in his hands, shaking. What was he supposed to do now…?

The only thing he could do right now was try to get some sleep…

The morning wasn’t much better. If anything, it got worse. Once he was awake, he made his way to the bathroom, checking his eyes. Still the same as they were the previous night… but now there was another problem. An itch drew his attention to his arms… shimmering, golden scales where skin should be. His fingers brushed over them, their texture smooth to the touch, but itchy along his arms. Now what…? He couldn’t just stay here… 

Lance could tell something was off the moment his nephew stepped into work. Rather than his usual shirt and vest, he walked into the shop in a hoodie, with the hood hanging over his head. What that boy did in his own time had been his business, but lately it seemed like… well he wasn’t entirely sure. Better? Worse? There were aspects to both of that spectrum… 

He didn’t have any friends, so he tended to lean on his uncle for a fair amount of his emotional support, one he was willing to give as much as he could… feelings weren’t so much his strong suit, but for Arthur, he’d been willing to open more. It seemed as if his mood had gotten better, where it was usually dragged down by so many in Tempo. It made him wonder what caused the change, but the blond never said. Why…?

And now there was this.

Work went as usual, though he had been able to pick up another new ‘quirk’ of his nephew’s. He was avoiding as many people as he could. It wasn’t entirely strange, given what happened at times both inside and outside work, but it seemed Arthur was going out of his way to make sure he wasn’t around anyone else for the entire day.

When the shift came to an end, the blond was the first one out… usually he was the last… 

Arthur quickened his pace to get home, ignoring many of the people he passed. Once he got home, he fled to the bathroom, pulling the hoodie off his form. He was sure he felt more tingling over his arms the longer work went on. Sure enough, more scales had appeared… When was this going to stop…? It was still a couple more days before he was to meet up with ‘Rev’... 

He trembled, carrying himself to his room. Arms wrapped around himself as nails dug into the skin around his scales. He could feel a few tears slip out of his eyes, his mind wracking around what he was supposed to do… 

The following day had been a repeat of the first, enough to be hidden by a simple hoodie, but that didn’t stop the waves of uncomfort racing through him. It felt like his muscles were being stretched, bones shifting. More than once he had to step away from his work, sneak away to the bathroom to make it seem less suspicious… where he found himself curled up in one of the stalls, trying to ride out the pain. Whenever it seemed to die down, he would return to work… 

And then as soon as the shift was over, once more he was out the door.

Just get home… that’s all he had to do… was make it home… 

The same procedure as before. Go to the bathroom… see what new parts of him had changed… go to his room… not come out… Even his room had soiled some… Galahad still refused to come out from under the bedding while he was around… and awake… From what he was able to gather from the way his eyes looked to the pattern and feel of the scales, he was gaining the features of some kind of snake. Of course a hamster was going to hide from a natural predator… But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to see him hiding in fear… 

He crawled into bed, hiding under the covers…

When he woke up the next morning, Arthur practically fell out of bed, his face planting on the floor. He pushed himself up, noting how sluggish he felt… probably just from the jolt of being woken up in the way he had been… He rubbed his forehead before trying to swing his legs over the bed…

And what he saw made him scream.

He… He didn’t have legs anymore!

He couldn’t take this anymore!

He pulled himself across the floor, grabbing his phone, probably harder than he needed to, dialing in a certain phone number.

Ring… Ring… 

Ring… Ring… 

Pick up!

Ring… Ri-

“Yes Artie? What can I do for you?”

“R-Rev… I n-need… h-help… pl-pleassse.” Arthur paused, his hand covering over his mouth. What now? His voice sounded so strange. More tears stung at his eyes, mouth pressing into his palm.

“Sounds like it’s progressing more rapidly than I first thought.”

“P-Progresssssing…? You sssaid they w-were ssside e-effectsss…”

“They are, in a manner of speaking. A slow process of transformation. It’s natural, though judging from your panicked tone, and change of voice, it’s gone faster than normal.”

“I j-jussst want it t-to ssstop…”

“Unfortunate for you, my dear apprentice. It’s not going to stop.”

“P-Pleassse…”

There’s a stretch of silence from the other end, a sigh, and then ‘Rev’s’ voice returned back, “Tell you what, I’ll stop by later tonight. I’ll see what I can do to help. Will that help put you at ease?”

“Y-Yesss… th-thank you…”

“Just take your time today and relax. We’ll get this figured out.”

“Thank you…”

“Of course. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t look out for my own apprentice? I’ll see you soon.”

The line hung up, which left Arthur alone once more.

He found himself staring at the clock on the screen of his phone once he’d pulled it away from his face. Lance would be expecting him soon… but there was no way to hide all of this… Should he maybe just call in sick? No… Lance would be able to tell something was wrong… His voice was too different… Maybe a text would be enough… They were just words rather than a voice after all. Surely it would be enough to excuse his absence until ‘Rev’ could help him get this under control.

Text sent… and the blond could think of nothing else to do besides sleep… he clumsily pulled himself back into bed, the lower half of his ‘body’ hanging off the side. He closed his eyes, pulling the covers back over himself once more.

Lance found himself standing outside the door to Arthur’s place. Something was definitely wrong with his nephew. Even if he were to not come to work for whatever reason, he always called. Combine that with his behavior over the past couple of days… he was about to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. He raised his hand, giving a hard knock on the door, “Arthur? Ye home kiddo?”

No answer… 

“Come on. If somethin’ is wrong, ye can tell me.”

Still no answer… 

“Arthur.”

Nothing… 

He gave a huff, hands moving to his hips as he stared at the closed door. Perhaps he will try again tomorrow. Eventually he was going to get to his nephew. He began to turn away from the door, but the sound of a loud ‘CRASH’ ringing from inside made him turn around. He reached for his copy of the key, having one, but still respecting the blond’s privacy. But this was an entirely different matter. He could be in danger.

Lance threw the door open, eyes scanning the hallway to the living room and kitchen. Nothing out of place… that didn’t mean everything was alright. He put his hands to his lips, “Arthur?”

Another ‘CRASH’ from the bedroom followed by the sound of… squeaking… 

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The first one to greet him when he opened the door was the boy’s hamster. Peering into the darkness of the room, he could tell the cage had been knocked over, and whatever was in there had spooked him badly. He took a step in, feeling the hairs on his neck stand up. There in the dark corner of the room…

Two amber, slitted eyes peered back at him… they almost seemed to glow against the darkness of the room.

A step was taken back as whatever those eyes belonged to began to inch forward. Whatever it was, it was big. No wonder crashes could be heard, there hardly seemed to be any room. Even so, the much more pressing matter was… where was his nephew?! Had this thing done something to him? The head began to come into the moonlight drifting through the nearby window… shimmering golden scales… though some looked more brown in color… an angular head… forked tongue flicking out a couple times… A snake? How did a giant snake get into here?

It stared at Lance, noticing the fear… and it slunk back into the darkness. Lance stood confused. Why wasn’t it doing anything? A rough voice gave him his answer.

“Uncle Lanccce…?”

Uncle? No… it couldn’t be…

“Arthur?”

It almost seemed like the serpent was hiding its face under the length of its body. Was it trembling? “W-What… are you d-doing here…?”

“What am I- Kiddo, ye’ve been actin’ strange the past few days. Better question is what on earth has happened to ye?”

“I-I… I-I’ve made a t-terrible missstake…”

“What are ye talkin’ about? What have ye done?”

“I-”

“Oh? Am I interrupting something?”

The older man’s head turned to the side, a stranger to him standing near the bedroom doorway. He looked to be around the same age as his nephew, dark hair, green eyes, and an outfit that made him stand out more than the two mechanics. But what was someone like him doing here? How’d he even get in?

“Sorry old man, I noticed the door was open. Wasn’t sure what was going on.”

Ah, that answers at least one question…

“Who are ye?”

“Me? Why I’m a friend of Artie’s. He called me earlier asking me to come over. Going to be honest, wasn’t expecting someone else to be over here when I showed up.”

A friend? Arthur had a friend? Why did he never mention this person before?

“Well, I think it may be best for ye to come back later.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

Lance opened his mouth to speak when another voice chimed in, “R-Rev…?”

The younger man pushed past the older mechanic, peering into the bedroom. Arthur had lifted his head back up from under his tangled mess of a body, looking up as if his hope for something had just been renewed. His head began to move forward, but stopped the instant he saw the look on his uncle’s face. Hands clapped together in front of him, “Oh dear, look at you Artie.” He stepped forward, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Did the fact that his supposed friend had turned into a giant snake not bother or frighten him?

“P-Pleassse… help me…”

“Calm down my dear friend. That’s the entire reason I’m here. Say old man, why don’t you go wait in another room hmm? Wouldn’t want to have any distractions would we? Besides, you should probably shut that front door before someone else decides to wander in.”

Eyes narrowed, but he hated to admit the younger one had a point… ‘Rev’ was how Arthur addressed him. He didn’t have the first clue how to help his nephew… He gave a gruff huff before turning away, but not before reaching down to take Galahad with him. There wasn’t any reason to believe the little guy would want to stick around for any of this either. The last thing Lance saw was the door shut to the bedroom before making his way to the front door.

“Look at you Artie. A couple days and you already look like this. Truly a tremendous feat.”

“R-Rev…”

“A shame about the damage you’ve done to your room though.”

“Rev… pleassse…”

“Come now apprentice, let me enjoy this a little bit. The worst of it is over. Now we work on it in reverse. I need you to focus.”

Focus… right… he could try that… 

“Shouldn’t be too hard for you to grasp. Shifting is easier than you believe. Concentrate, no distractions. Become human again.”

“C-Can’t you… give me sssome kind of direction…?”

“Come now Artie. It can't be too hard to imagine yourself being human again can it?”

Was it really that simple? Amber eyes peered at green, looking for any sign, anything that maybe his ‘master’ ‘teacher’ would be trying to lead him astray… or maybe that he would provide an explanation that wasn’t so vague. He found his body trembling slightly, eyes closing as his head rested on top of his body. Right… just… picture how he always looked… shouldn’t be too hard… 

Blond hair… skin… no scales… just his small size… his precious, little goatee… 

Human… he’s human… not a snake… not a threat… he wouldn’t hurt anyone… 

Not a snake… not a threat… 

Fear in the eyes of the two people he cared about the most… 

No… he wouldn’t ever hurt them… 

But they were afraid of him… 

They-

Tears were slipping down from his eyes, those being caught. He couldn’t really sob when he looked like this, but they were enough to give a visible display of his inner turmoil. He felt the texture of skin moving across scales. Even with his tears being brushed away, more continued to fall. Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Would Lance even look at him the same? Galahad? Was his own hamster going to hide away from him for the rest of his life? Oh god, he wasn’t even human anymore.

“Artie. It’s alright.”

“N-No… it’sss not… I-I c-can’t…”

“You can. You’ve made it this far. Just focus.”

“I c-can’t… they’re a-afriad of m-me…” 

There was a sigh. Amber eyes followed ‘Rev’ as he moved past his apprentice, squeezing past the mass of golden scales to reach the phone sitting once more along the nightstand. He moved through the applications, setting the phone back down after a short time. Music began to fill the room. It sounded… sort of like a flute? Arthur couldn’t really tell, but whatever it was… it was rather soothing. The hand came back up near his eyes, once again brushing the tears away, “There there my dear boy. Calm down. Focus on me.”

The blond found himself putting his full attention on those green eyes, almost as if he were in some kind of a trance.

“You can do it. Just do as I tell you to. No distractions, not a single one. You’re not a snake anymore. You’re human.”

Not a snake… He’s human… he’s human… 

Scales fell away from him.

He’s human… 

Flat and angular head shortened back, spiky blond hair back on the top of his head. A goatee hanging from his chin.

He’s human… 

His arms and legs came back to him.

He’s human… 

Clothes were somehow back on him.

He’s human… 

“There, you see? I told you you could do it.”

Arthur opened his eyes, looking down at himself. New tears reformed in his eyes, but this time not out of sadness, but rather joy. Flesh and blood rather than scales. He couldn’t help but run his hands along his arms and hair, as if he believed if he didn’t feel it for himself, then they might disappear again right before his eyes. Finally, they found their way to his cheeks, a dampness dripping onto them, “I don’t believe it…”

“You better believe it, Artie. We’ll work on making sure that you can shift much more properly, but seeing as I have taken up enough time being here with you, we should cancel our session for tomorrow. Take a day to rest up.”

“What if it… what if I turn again…?”

“Then you can always call me. Come now, to bed. It’s late. I’ll see to it that your company leaves you as well.”

He wasn’t sure what it was about his ‘master’s’ ‘teacher’s’ voice that made him feel so compelled to listen, but he turned around, crawling into bed. That flute music was still playing from his phone… maybe it would help him to get to sleep too… he managed a yawn before he spoke up again, “My uncle.”

“Right right, your uncle. Rest apprentice.”

“Thank… you…”

One hand moved to the blond’s cheek, watching his eyes close as his thumb made a circular motion over it. A smile curled along ‘Rev’s’ face, “Of course my boy. You are mine to look out for after all.”

Lance wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed before the sound of the door opening could be heard from down the hall. Before he was even sure of what he was going to do, the shorter man was on his feet, seeing that stranger coming out to join him. Where was Arthur? Had he actually helped his nephew?

“You can rest easy now old man, he’s fine. Helped him get back to normal and into bed. You should probably be heading out too hmm? It’s getting late.”

“How’d you do it?”

“Hmm?”

“What did ya do to him?”

“I haven’t done anything. I’ve been dealing with weird things like this for a while. He knew that about me. Just helping out a friend.”

“How’d he even meet ye?”

“What is this? Twenty questions?”

“Well pardon me. It’s just he’s never mentioned ye before. How am I supposed to know ya ain’t done nothin’ to him?”

A smile curled along the younger one’s face, “I can assure you, I have no reason to harm him, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m not like all the others that have pushed him around. I do want to help him. Isn’t that what you want for him too old man?”

A beat of silence.

“Besides, would you have accepted the idea of me being his friend if he had told you?”

Another moment of silence.

“I thought so. I’ll be heading out now. You should do the same. Trust me when I say he’s going to be fine.” With that, he was opening the front door, heading to… presumably his own home. Lance had taken another glance down the hallway, the hamster resting along the table doing the same. He took Galahad into the palm of his hand, pacing down to the bedroom. He gently pushed the door open, greeted by music he didn’t think he’d be able to imagine his nephew listening to. It was soft at least…

Sure enough, there was his nephew… sleeping…

He gave a soft sigh, his eyes turning to the animal in his hand. Pushing into the room, he reached for the hamster’s cage, pacing it back on the desk. Arthur must have missed it when he was thrashing about… good thing too. At least there was a flat surface with some elevation for the cage. The tiny animal wheeled itself inside, the small door closed behind him. At least he wasn’t hiding… for now… 

Lance cast one more glance to his nephew before finally leaving the room.

Nothing was ever going to be the same again… 

Was it…?

[gremlinbehaviour]

I wish you could write a fic where The Knights of the Round Table (bonus if Arthur and Merlin are there too) Meet their older selves

“Merlin, who are these guys?” Arthur asked. “I mean, I recognize Dragoon, but who are the rest of them?”

“I think they’re us,” the warlock replied. The gray-haired Elyan waved.

“What?” Leon asked. “Where’s you then?”

“And why is Dragoon here?” Arthur continued. They all knew his hatred for the old sorcerer who had killed his father.

“Um…” Merlin stalled. Lancelot, the occasionally horrible best friend that he was, interupted before he could lie.

“Dragoon isn’t actually a real person he’s just Merlin with an aging spell that he used as a disguise before magic was legalized,” he said quickly before the warlock could slap him with a a gagging spell. He’d done it before and would do it again. The Lancelot with grey hair and wrinkles that stood beside the older Merlin/Dragoon gave him a thumbs up and a nod.

Arthur opened his mouth, paused for a second, and then closed it with a shake of his head. “We’ll unpack all of that later. What are our older selves doing here?”

“Merlin figured out timetravel, so we decided to come say hello,” older Gwaine said.

“Also you’ve got a bit of a prophesy to deliver,” Not-Dragoon replied. “We should have just a minute or so until the spell wears off and we get catapulted back home. You can talk; just don’t touch your younger or older self.”

Instantly, Leon beckoned himself over to the side. He’d lost his long hair as he aged, and now wore a hat over his bald head.

“I’ve had a long time to think about what I would tell myself if I could talk to him,” he said. “There’s not much I regret about my life, except that I spent too long trying to conform to what people expected of me. I never wanted to get married, nor have children, but I did so because it was expected of me. If you choose not to do so, you will still be respected as the First Knight by Arthur and the others.”

The younger Leon looked surprised. He’d never told anyone that he wasn’t interested in romance, even when Gwaine had admitted to him that he liked men. His older self must’ve known that he himself was the only person who would reassure him that what he felt, or rather, didn’t feel, was okay.

Not far from them, Percival stood with Percival. They weren’t the same height. The tall man had shrunk a few inches, and finally put sleeves on, but he was clearly still a strong man. “Spend time with your children when they’re little. Arthur doesn’t need you every minute; he has other knights. They only have one father.”

“I have children?” the younger man asked. Both of them smiled.

“Yes. And the loveliest wife in the world.”

Elyan and his older self were also taking about children, or one child in particular. “Listen,” the older man said. “Your nephew is going to grow up to be a spoiled little princeling if you don’t keep him on the right track. Gwen will fight you on it and say he deserves everything she gives him, and she’s right, but nobody needs that much affection. She’s also going to smother him with love whenever he’s in the castle, and Arthur is surprisingly overprotective as well, so you and Gwaine are going to have to teach him how to fight and ride. Just watch out when you come across a log going over a river; it’s rotten and it will break.” The younger Elyan nodded, dutifully committing these warnings to memory.

Gwaine and Lancelot have switched selves. Gwaine, his long hair gone silver and an old scar slashed across his nose, is talking to a younger Lancelot.

“Please,” he said. “Please immediately pull every single prank that comes into your head. You do nothing nowadays except complain about the pranks you never pulled when you were younger and try to convince Galahad to use them on his friends. Your son is actually as responsible as you pretended to be though, so he never uses them, and so all you do is talk, you crazy old man.” Young Lancelot smiles, looking very satisfied as he chooses in that instant to fully embrace his inner chaotic bastard.

Old Lancelot and young Gwaine are having the opposite conversation. “Gwaine, for your health, you have to settle down at some point. Just find a person, any person, to stay with for more than two nights. Any person except Elaine,” he clarified. “Don’t mess with Elaine. I know flirting is your first instinct, but just don’t with her. She will not appreciate it, and will kick your ass and then will kick my ass for good measure. You won’t get her anyway.”

“I didn’t get her in your timeline, that doesn’t mean I won’t get her in this one,” he counters, despite the fact that he does not, in fact, even know who Elaine is yet. Lancelot just sighs.

Merlin leaves Arthur to deliver the prophesy so he can have a chance to knock some sense into his younger self. Literally. The Dragoon-look-alike whacked him with his staff like he used to do with Arthur and the knights. Evidently, his warning about touching your younger self did not apply to staffs.

“Stop thinking about prophesies,” he ordered in his old man voice. “I know I came back here allegedly to tell you about one, but that’s a lie, because you just need to stop wondering about what fate has in mind for you and just live your damn life. I’ll know if you don’t, and I’ll be back.” With that final warning, he and all the other old versions of the knights poofed out of existence.

[lilyswritings]

Kiss Me

anonymous requested: could you please do 20, 27, and 40 for eggsy unwin?

20. “You look amazing tonight.” 27. “Kiss me.” 40. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

author’s note: okay so this got a little out of hand, I’ve been working on this for a few months now - I just really wanted it to be good. And I think it is! Anywho, warnings for fight scenes, blood, and injury mentions. Oh, and all the angst (I mean, what did you expect from me??) Enjoy!

word count: 2,191 (told you it got out of hand)

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

   The woman staring back at you in the mirror looks harmless. Breathtaking, but harmless. Elegant, decked out in the finest jewels, no one would ever guess that you’re packed to the brim with weapons - guns and knives tucked in your garters, rings that become electrified at a simple push of a button, a hairpin with a poison dart loaded into it - basically, you’re lethal. 

   You apply a final coat of red lipstick, adjusting your certified Kingsman glasses, and you’re all set. When you step out of the bathroom and into the entrance hall of the venue, Eggsy is standing with his back to you, looking dapper in his finely cut suit and his hair combed back. When you clear your throat unsubtly, he turns around, a smirk stretching his lips when he sees you.

   “Guinevere… You look amazing tonight.” He compliments, and you raise an eyebrow.

   “Right back at you, Galahad.”

   He offers his arm out to you, and you take it, gracefully looping your arm through and holding him closely. The large ballroom looks stunning, with diamond chandeliers and finely dressed couples milling about, waiters weaving through the crowds holding silver platters of food high above their heads.

   When you spot the face that had been on the assignment file given to you, you lean into Eggsy, faking a delicate chuckle, and whisper in his ear. “10 o’clock, red suit jacket.”

   He turns subtly, catching sight of the target as well, and you squeeze his arm gently. The plan is for you to approach the target, slip him a sedative, help him leave when he inevitably feels unwell, and steal the USB drive in his suit pocket. Agent Galahad is to be on the lookout, making sure no one grows suspicious, and to cause a distraction if need be.

   You and Eggsy are posing as a soon-to-be married couple. The target, the illustrious ‘Monsieur Alphonse Renard’, is an international arms dealer with plans to sell British government weapon plans to terrorists. Oh, and he has an extensive history of relationships with married or engaged women.

   “What a tosser.” Eggsy had said during the briefing, and you can’t help but agree as you look at his overly-slicked hair and outrageous red suit jacket.

   An unsettling feeling settles over you, and you realize that Renard is staring right at you. You turn to your fake fiancé. “Kiss me.” You say, and Eggsy does, leaning in and briefly sealing his lips to yours. You push away the warmth that spreads through your body at the brief intimacy - this is a mission, you remind yourself, and you can’t let feelings distract you.

   “Love you.” He offers, and you smile, turning and heading towards the bar. You are hyper aware of the feeling of the tiny pill in a metal case sewn into a fold of your dress, touching your thigh as you walk towards him.

   When you slide into your barstool, Renard smiles slyly at you, and you feign a flirty smile in response as he sidles up to you. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing alone at the bar?”

   “Getting away from my fiancé.” You smile, and he raises an eyebrow. “I’m Eloise. And you are?” You ask him, and when he smiles and replies with his first name, your fingers fumble into the fold of your dress and extract the pill container, deftly dumping the pill into your hand. As Renard remains focused on your face, you can’t help but think this is going to be easy. 

   Unfortunately, things never quite turn out the way you want them to.

   Renard glances over your shoulder, a smirk on his lips, and you seize your chance, dropping the pill into his drink. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice, and you let yourself breathe out in relief. Until he speaks again.

   “You know, it’s not polite to roofie a gentleman’s drink, Guinevere.” Your heart stops, hand flying down to wrap around the pistol hidden in your thigh garter, but before you even get the chance to pull it out of the holster the distinct feeling of the barrel of a gun presses into your back, right into your spine.

   “Let’s go join your partner, shall we?” He says into your neck, You grit your teeth, fury alighting in your veins as Renard’s henchman pushes the gun harder into your back, making you slip off the stool and start walking. Your eyes dart around the ballroom, but no one seems to have noticed the woman being held at gunpoint. Well, at least Merlin won’t scold you for disrupting the peace again.

   You’re shoved, indelicately, into a darkened office room, and when your eyes adjust you find Eggsy stood by the wall, in between two guards with pistols aimed at him.

   You face a similar treatment as more men enter the room, holding your arms firmly and aiming their guns at you. Eggsy catches your eye and you nod subtly, to tell him you’re alright, but when one of the goons tugs roughly on your bare arm you can see the anger brewing in his expression.

   “Isn’t this just a pleasant surprise? Here I was thinking I’d have to spend weeks, or even months infiltrating the infamous Kingsman service, but no! You two practically throw yourselves at my feet.” Renard speaks, and gestures to the men behind you, who roughly push you into the chairs facing the desk and begin to tie your hands behind your back.

   Just as they loop the knot you jolt upwards, tugging the ropes off your hands, pressing your rings into the man’s neck and electrocuting him, before whirling around and aiming your fist at the other henchmen. But before the rings can make contact, a searing pain alights in your side, and you faintly register Eggsy shouting as you crumple back into the seat and Renard removes the electric cattle prod from your side.

   “I’m gonna rip your fucking face off-” Eggsy spits, but is cut off as Renard connects the baton to your side again and you yelp, spasming.

   “No more of that foulness, please.” Renard says calmly, a single eyebrow raised, and you register the men finally tying your hands behind your back.

    You can feel Eggsy’s eyes on you and you sigh, blowing a strand of hair out of your face as you straighten, panting from the physical exertion. “‘M fine, Galahad.”

   You know he doesn’t believe you, but seems to relax (only slightly) into the chair upon seeing that you’re still somewhat okay.

   “As much as I hate to break up this… Adorable moment, I do have some questions for the two of you.” Renard drawls, calmly setting the cattle prod on the desk with a dull tap. “First of all, how much do you know about my trades?”

   You meet his gaze bemusedly, managing a small smirk as he watches you. “You’re kidding, right?” You say, glancing between him and his henchmen.

   “I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s so funny.” Renard grits out, settling his gaze on Eggsy instead.

   “Mate, you’re not gonna get anything from us.” Eggsy retorts, leaning forwards in his suit. “We’re Kingsmen, not common thugs.” 

   “Speaking of...” You draw the arms dealer’s attention away from Eggsy, and smirk as you twist your bracelet on your wrist. “Kingsmen always come prepared.”

   Suddenly, the lights go out, plunging the room into darkness and eliciting shouts from the many henchmen stationed around the room. Your glasses kick in, turning on the night vision mode, and you smirk, locking eyes with Eggsy. You shove yourself backwards, colliding with the wall and splintering your wooden chair into pieces. 

   Once out of the chair, you tug a knife out of your garter and slice through the rope around your wrists, before lunging for the closest man and shoving your knife in his neck.

   You can hear the common across the room as Eggsy wards off the other guards, and when the three men who were around you are down, you turn your attention back to the arms dealer.

   The lights go back on as Merlin’s Scottish accent floods your ear. “Sorry, Guinevere- they’ve pushed me back out of the system. I’m out of control, now. You two are on your own.”

   Renard meets your eyes as you slip your gun out of its holster, a smirk plastered on his lips. “Well well well...” He drawls, glancing between you and Eggsy who also has his pistol aimed at Renard’s head. “I guess your orders aren’t to kill me, are they?” 

   The cockiness in his voice makes you clench your jaw as you glance over at your partner. You’re not sure how to play this; you need the hard drive, but you also need Renard alive. He has information that Kingsman desperately needs. If you kill him, his secrets and invaluable information follow him to the grave.

   Eggsy meets your gaze and shrugs, raising an eyebrow as he mouths the words, “Hair pin.” 

   Your moment of hesitation gives him a head start, though, as he dives behind his desk before shooting a spray of bullets into the wall behind you. “A fucking machine gun?” You curse, ducking down and pulling your hairpin out, letting the hair fall over your face.

   You spot his leg under the desk, and aim the pin, blowing on one end and sending the dart into the exposed skin below the pant leg and above the shoe. You hear him cry out, and watch Eggsy go behind the desk and drag an unconscious Alphonse Renard into the open. 

   He pulls out the hard drive from his pocket, throwing it to you, before tying his hands and feet together. Then, he takes a small red vial from his jacket and tips it into the unconscious man’s mouth - the antidote.

   You hold the hard drive out in front of you, eyes narrowing as you take in the blurry object. Suddenly, you feel a dull ache settle over you, and you glance down at your dark red dress to notice a small hole in the torso. 

   When you brush your fingers over it, it sends a jolt of pain through your body, and your fingers come away red. “Eggsy?” You mutter, slumping into the wall.

   “Hey, what’s-” You look up to see his pale face, his green eyes fixated on your fingertips and the crimson liquid dripping off of them. “No, no, no.” He says, crouching next to you and pressing a hand over your stomach.

   The pain burns through you, and you feebly try to push his arm off of you as he pushes down on the wound. “Ow, stop it.” You murmur, and he reaches up with one hand and taps your face.

   “Hey, I’m saving your life.” He tries, a barely-there smile on his lips that disappears as you try to close your eyelids again. “Stay with me, Y/N.” He says, pressing down more insistently.

   “Merlin, Guinevere’s down - I repeat, she’s been shot.” His voice sounds kind of muffled, but you can still recognize the badly masked panic that laces his words.

   “I don’t want to die.” You realize suddenly, and your eyes roll up and meet Eggsy’s. You realize with a start that there are tears rolling down his cheeks.

   “You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.” He reaffirms, shrugging off his suit jacket and putting it over the wound before pressing down again.

   “Merlin, we need medical now!” Eggsy shouts, and you reach up and grab his forearm gently. 

   “It’s okay.” You say, and he shakes his head, setting loose a few hairs from his slicked back hairstyle.

   “No, it’s not,” He chokes out. “Y/N- I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.” He admits, and you let out a watery laugh.

   “I love you too.” You admit, your vision darkening at the edges. Eggsy begins to cry, now, pulling your head onto his lap as he leans down and presses a shaky kiss to your forehead. 

   “Hold on, for me. Please.” His pleas are the last things you hear as your vision goes dark and the world fades around you.

   This isn’t the first time you’ve woken up in the Kingsman infirmary, nor will it be your last, you think. As your eyes open slowly, blinded by the white ceiling of the sterile room, you suck in a deep breath as pain tears through your stomach. 

   Your intake of breath must have woken him up, because as soon as you try to sit up Eggsy is there, pushing you back down. “Hey, love, you need to lie back.” 

   You laugh slightly, elated by the sound of his voice as you seek out his face with the palm your hand, sliding your hand to the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss.

   When he pulls back, he grins. “Guess that means you meant what you said?” He asks, and you nod.

   “I love you.” You reaffirm.

   “I love you,” He echoes. “But if you ever scare me like that again I’ll kill you myself.” He jokes, and you laugh.

   “Deal.”

[vilevenom]

Look at what I found half finished in my drafts! Guess I should finish and post it. Maybe I’ll actually finish this beast.

Paralyzed

Fandom: Mystery Skulls Animated

Pairings: Vivi/Lewis, possible later OT3

Summary:  When Vivi suggested taking on a new case, this hadn't exactly been what Arthur'd been expecting, nor what he'd signed up for.

Vampire!Arthur

Also, apologies for any spelling errors, etc. Any that I’ve noticed, I’ve fixed in the AO3 posting.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

“Okay, guys! Everything is ready,” Vivi’s voice interrupted Arthur’s quiet moment, causing the blonde to give a slight jump, but his breathing remained even. Lewis offered a sympathetic smile, before gently taking his heart back from Arthur and ushering the blonde over to where Vivi had the spell set up.

Arthur swallowed thickly as he gazed down at what Vivi had set up, eyeing a silver bowl with some sort of soupy mixture she had made with what he and Lewis had gathered. His stomach rolled when he spotted a lone spider leg sticking out of the liquid. He held back the urge to gag, instead focusing back on Vivi as she spread a map out in the center of the circle, using candle holders to hold the four corners down and the map flat. She let out a triumphant little sound, before rubbing her hands together and turning to Arthur.

“All right, Artie. I just need you to hold out your hand, and it’ll be done quick as a flash,” Vivi hummed, doing her best to be reassuring, even as she picked up her tiny ceremonial dagger which glinted in the soft glow of the candles.

Arthur simply nodded and thrust his hand out towards Vivi, his eyes scrunched shut as he offered her his palm. He jumped slightly as Lewis’ large palms settled on his shoulders, and Vivi took his hand into one of her own.

“Calm down, Artie. I meant it when I said I only needed a little,” Vivi spoke softly, giving Arthur’s hand a small squeeze as she tugged it forward slightly, so it was hovering above the silver bowl.

Arthur took a deep breath to keep himself calm, not daring to open his eyes, for fear of making himself panic at the sight of the dagger nearing his skin. However, all he felt was a sharp prick to his finger and Vivi gently shaking his hand above the bowl. He blinked his eyes open to see Vivi’s determined expression, tongue poking out from between her lips as she let a few drops of Arthur’s blood join the rest of the sludgy looking liquid.

There was a hissing sound and Arthur snatched his hand away as soon as Vivi released it, his eyes focused entirely on the bowl as the liquid inside suddenly began to bubble and fizz, letting off little puffs of smoke. Vivi grinned wildly, and tipped it, letting the liquid spill out onto the map she’d set up earlier, a proud little look on her face as the liquid began to weave into intricate designs over the map. She set the bowl aside as the liquid shifted of it’s own accord on the map, twisting this way and that, before settling into a path along a road. Upon closer inspection, Arthur realized it was connecting where they were now, marked with a tiny star on the map, to a city a few states away, the end twitching every now and then, as though ready to move at a moments notice.

“It worked!” Vivi chirped happily, clapping her hands together excitedly, “Now we know exactly where that creepy crawler is!”

“Good job, Vivi,” Lewis congratulated, letting Arthur sag against him as the three of them looked at the map, “It’s a few days drive from here, but doable. We should be able to get you back to normal within the week, Arthur.”

Arthur’s quiet sound of acknowledgement was more than enough to let Lewis know Arthur was more than done with magic and the supernatural for the day. “Hey, Vi? I’m going to get Arthur something to eat, okay? If you need us for anything, just shout.”

Vivi glanced up from examining the map, her previous near manic smile fading into a soft one at seeing how Arthur was slumped against Lewis’ chest. “Of course, Lew. I need to do a little work on the spell so we can take the map with us, in case the vampire moves. Bring me something once Arthur is taken care of, okay?”

Lewis gave a short nod and a smile as he steered Arthur out of the library and towards the kitchen. Once there, he gently pushed Arthur towards the kitchen table, causing the blonde to stumble to a chair and sit down heavily, a burst of heavy air leaving him as he examined his sluggishly bleeding finger.

“Here,” Lewis hummed, digging around in the cupboards for a moment, before extracting a box of band-aids and pulling one out for Arthur. He carefully unwrapped the band-aid, moving to kneel next to Arthur’s chair and taking the blonde’s hand into his own, wrapping the digit gently, before placing a kiss on the tiny wound, much like would do for his sisters. “There. All better.”

To say Arthur was startled by Lewis’ actions was an understatement. The two had not exactly been on the best of terms since Lewis had returned from the dead, though over the last few months they were doing their best to patch up the tears in their friendship. Helping him through a panic attack was one thing, but practically tenderly nursing his minor wound? That was new.

“Thanks, Lewis,” Arthur shied away as the specter stood back up, a slightly sad smile on Lewis’ face.

“Of course, Arthur,” Lewis nodded, before he set to making Arthur something to eat.

Arthur sat staring at the band-aid so carefully wrapped around his finger for a few minutes, only allowing his gaze to rise to watch as Lewis moved to make him and Vivi sandwiches after he was certain the specter had his back turned. He bit his lip lightly, now mindful of his slowly sharpening canines, his thoughts going a mile a minute. For a short while after Lewis had returned to the group, things had been rough. Lewis was coming to grips with Arthur not being the one who had killed him, and Arthur was having a hard time digesting that a demon had made him shove his best friend off a cliff. Naturally, the blonde had done his level best to give Lewis space, his own head far too much of a jumble to want to tread into the waters of their relationship quite yet. Over time, though, that hesitation and avoidance had become a comfort for Arthur; a constant he otherwise didn’t have much of. And, in kind, Lewis had responded with giving Arthur his space and was equally as hesitant with the blonde.

So, this sudden rash of comforting touches and caring was throwing Arthur through a bit of a loop, to say the least. Perhaps it was his current situation egging him on, but he found his voice far easier then he ever had before.

“Lewis?” The specter hummed to let Arthur know he was listening as he chopped up a pickle, “I-Sorry, I just...You’re being really nice.”

Lewis paused, knife hovering over the cutting board, his shoulder’s stiffening slightly. “...yes?”

“Well,” Arthur licked his lips, looking back down to his finger, “Why? I mean, it’s nice. I-I missed this. I know it’s my fault, but I just-”

“Arthur,” Lewis sighed, cutting off the beginning of Arthur’s rambling, setting his knife down and turning to the blonde with a soft, if a bit sad smile. The blonde stiffened in his seat, eyes trained on his hand. “You know everything that happened...we’re past that, right? What happened, we can’t change that. But we’ve dealt with it, haven’t we?”

Arthur swallowed thickly, a slight nod of his head. “I-yeah.”

Lewis let his shoulders drop slightly, moving around the table to kneel next to Arthur again, gently taking the blonde’s hand in his own. “None of it was your fault, Artie. I’m not angry anymore. And I think you’ve paid more than your fair share for what was never even your fault, haven’t you?”

Arthur glanced towards his prosthetic, a couple of his fingers jittering from a loose connection somewhere in the arm. “Yeah...”

“Exactly. I know we can never go back to how things were before that cave, but Artie-Arthur- I want them to. Or, as close as we can. I miss your over exuberance, and your puns. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you hold your tongue and the way you shy away from me. I don’t want you to feel like you need to walk on eggshells around me.”

A short lick of his lips and a moment of contemplation preceded Arthur lifting his head to look at Lewis of his own accord, meeting the specter’s gaze with only mild trepidation. He lingered for a moment, as though searching Lewis’ soul for a shred of a lie, before offering a tiny quirk of his lips, smile small, but there. “Okay, Lew.”

Lewis beamed, giving Arthur’s hand a squeeze as he rose to go back to preparing food for the others. “Good. Now, I know you want to work on your arm, so you can take the sandwich to your room, but you have to promise to actually eat it. I’ll come and get the dish in an hour, so it better be empty. There’s also some carrot shreds for Galahad,” Lewis hummed, flitting around the kitchen for a few moments, before setting a plate with a thick sandwich and a small bowl of carrots in front of Arthur on the table. “Mystery said you might not be able to eat proper food for much longer, so you need as much as you can get right now.”

“Promise,” Arthur lifted his hand to make a small criss-cross over his heart as Lewis sat the plate in front of him, his smile growing a little at the specter’s inclusion of his hamster. Lance had brought him over that morning before they got back home, so he was sure the little guy was probably hungry and bored. He gave pause at the last of what Lewis said, his fingers lingering at the edge of his plate. “What do you mean by that? Not be able to eat proper food?”

“Ah,” Lewis dithered, absent-mindedly floating above the kitchen floor, scratching the back of his head, “Well...he said that, it’s already been a few days since you were bitten, so he’s not sure how much longer you’ll be able to eat food, before you start to want, uhm, blood. Because food won’t, you know, give you nutrients and stuff.”

Arthur stared up at Lewis for a long minute, his expression hard to read. “I...this-this is going to be a long week,” he muttered, rubbing at his face, while taking a shuddering breath, his mind back to racing over the fact that he was turning into a god damned vampire.

“Just don’t think about that right now, Artie,” Lewis urged, waving a hand through the air. “You’re fine right now, and I’m sure Galahad wants to see you. Just go eat and work on your arm, okay? We should be heading out tomorrow to go after the vampire, so it’s nothing you should even need to worry about at all. You’ll be back to normal within the week, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. Within the week,” Arthur muttered absently, rising from his chair as Lewis ushered, taking the sandwich as Lewis placed the plate in his hand and steered him towards his bedroom. "Right," he sighed, shuffling out of the kitchen while staring down at the sandwich as he walked as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

Once back in his room with the door shut gently with a nudge of his foot, Arthur set his plate down on his desk before shuffling over to Galahad's cage, a hint of a smile on his lips as the hamster wheeled his way out from beneath one of his many tunnels to chirp happily at seeing Arthur. "Heya, buddy. Got some yummy carrots for ya," Arthur hummed, carefully lifting the lid of Galahads cage and offering his hand for the hamster to climb onto, "Did you miss me? I missed you. Had some real crazy stuff happen while I was away. Wanna hear about it?" Lance had always thought it was a little strange that Arthur had taken to talking his problems through with his hamster, but when Vivi had walked in on him having a one sided conversation with Galahad while the hamster tried to stuff as many screws into his cheeks as possible, she introduced him to the rubber ducking. Although the method was used by engineers to figure out how to debug their programs, Vivi had insisted that if Arthur wasn't willing to talk to a total stranger (given he was sure that some of the crazy things that he would inevitably speak about would get him institutionalized), Galahad was probably the next best thing to her or Lewis.

Arthur frowned a little as Galahad seemed hesitant to climb onto his hand, sniffing at his fingers with a frown on his tiny hamster face. "Aw, I know I smell weird, bud," he sighed, wiggling his fingers a little until Galahad finally, reluctantly, scooted up into his palm, "Vivi dragged us to this crazy house the next state over, and we thought it was just going to be a ghost," he murmured, setting Galahad next to his plate, nudging the tiny dish of carrots towards his hamster, "But then it turned out to be a freaking vampire." He snorted as he flopped down into his chair, startling Galahad into dropping the carrot he'd been about to stuff into his cheek. "Sorry," Arthur added, patting Galahad gently before starting the arduous task of removing his prosthetic to start working on it, "Anyway...needless to say, I apparently smelled really good to it, because next thing I know I'm suffering massive blood loss, and now my eyes are a different colour." He shook his head, setting his prosthetic on the table and pulling himself close as he rummaged around for a screw driver. "We're gonna head back out again in the morning to try and find it, so I'm afraid you're gonna have to go back to visit Uncle Lance again for a little while, bud. Sorry. I was really hoping we could start working on an upgrade for your wheels, but I guess that'll have to wait a bit longer."

Roughly twenty minutes had passed before Arthur remembered Lewis' time constraints on his sandwich, and he really did not want to have the specter hovering over him, quite literally, as he ate, so he set aside his tools and shifted his chair over so he could easily get at his food. It was a bit of a shock, safe to say, when he bit into it and it felt like he was biting into a sponge. Flavorless and too soft, grating against his teeth. He swallowed thickly, frowning down at the sandwich, knowing perfectly well that all of the ingredients were fresh. Lewis would rather die again than use anything in the food he prepared that wasn't fresh and healthy. He stared down at it for a long minute, before recalling the little detail that only Lewis had deemed it necessary for him to know. Apparently food wasn't going to be a thing for him for much longer. Was it already too late? He took another bite, rolling it on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. At the very least, it wasn't making him gag or giving him a stomach ache, so perhaps this was just the start. Something in the vampire curse to nudge him towards trying different things.

He sighed thickly and downed the rest of the sandwich quickly, shuddering as he swallowed the last bite, Galahad watching him with concern next to his prone prosthetic. "It'll be fine," he said, unconvincingly even to himself, as he rolled back to his arm and continued his work.

[terriblelifechoices]

Happy Monday, guys. I hope it was less Monday-ish than mine.  Have some comment fic. ;)

Written for the glorious @st00pz, partly as a follow up to baby Galahad meeting Helmine Weiss, aka MACUSA’s Ice Queen but mostly because the thought of someone telling Galahad “you used to be so cute when you were small” when he’s being a little shit as a junior Auror was too good to pass up on.

Originally posted on ao3 here.

The Eyrie, March 1947

“You seem awfully calm,” Red noted.

Galahad raised both eyebrows at him.  “Shouldn’t I be?”

“Most Aurors in your shoes are puking scared or pissed as hell right about now,” Red pointed out, easing the elevator to a stop.  He kept the elevator doors closed, waiting for Galahad’s answer.  “She ain’t going to go easy on youse.”

“I know,” Galahad said.  “I don’t want her to.”

“Your funeral,” Red told him, and opened the doors.

Galahad stepped out into the Eyrie, heading for the great double doors that lead to the Eagle’s Chamber.  They swung open just before he reached them, admitting Galahad into the room beyond.

Galahad understood why most Aurors hated the Eyrie.  Like most of the audience chambers in the Woolworth Building, the room was bigger on the inside than mere architecture should have allowed for.  Enormous, floor-to-ceiling windows lined the walls through the whole room, giving the impression that the Eyrie was exactly what it was named for -- an eagle’s nest high up on a cliffside, surrounded by nothing but the open sky beneath it.  Galahad could practically feel the bite of cold air at mountain altitudes kiss his skin, the wisps of clouds and mist floating by.

Galahad walked along the black marble path leading towards the dais and the woman who ruled the Eyrie.  The seats to either side of hers were empty, save for a court stenographer tucked discreetly off to one side.

Age had not slowed Director Weiss down one bit.  Her blonde hair had long since gone silver, but her winter-pale eyes were as cold and sharp as ever.  She reminded Galahad of Dad’s stories about the sidhe -- Director Weiss was winter court, through and through, cold and dangerous and terrifying.

But fair, Galahad thought.  Not always impartial, but scrupulously, meticulously, terrifyingly fair.

That was a sidhe trait, too.  Not for the first time, Galahad wondered if Director Weiss had a touch of the old blood, in addition to being one of the Twelve.

He stopped some ten or so feet away from the dais, coming to stand at rest before MACUSA’s Ice Queen.

“Galahad Graves,” Director Weiss said.  Her voice was clear and cold, cutting through the silence like a knife.  “You stand accused of disobey direct orders from a senior officer in the field.”

Galahad ground his teeth and said nothing.  It wasn’t his turn to speak yet.

“Your team was recently seconded for a joint international task force, under the direction of Auror Ethan Concannon, was it not?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Galahad said, resisting the urge to curse at the mere mention of Fucking Concannon.  “The Canadians had point on the investigation.  Auror Concannon was Senior Investigating Auror for the task force.”

“What was the purpose of the task force?”

There were days when Galahad really despised MACUSA’s love of bureaucratic minutia.  Surely anyone who wanted to know why he’d been called to the Eyrie already knew what the joint task force had been doing.

“Investigating an illegal magical beasts distribution ring,” Galahad answered.  “Waheela, specifically.”  He was just glad Uncle Newt had his hands full battling England’s Wizengamot over werewolf rights, or he’d have had more problems than just Fucking Concannon to deal with.

Uncle Newt didn’t share Uncle Theseus’ fondness for explosions, but they still happened around him an awful lot anyways.

“Auror Concannon accuses you of disobey direct orders, of jeopardizing the mission by redirecting mission assets, and worst of all, of suborning your fellow Aurors.”

Galahad snorted.

“Does mutiny amuse you, Auror Graves?” Director Weiss asked.

“No, ma’am,” Galahad said.  “It does not.”

“Then what, exactly, amuses you so?”

“Auror Concannon’s version of events, ma’am,” Galahad said.

Weiss looked down at the papers in front of her on the dais.  “Your version reads rather differently,” she noted.

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Galahad, because it did.

“I note that it does not, at any point, dispute the charge regarding disobeying direct orders from a senior Auror.”

“No, ma’am.”

Director Weiss considered him for a long moment.  “The punishment for that is two weeks suspension without pay.”

Galahad hid a wince.  He wanted to buy Sam’s bridegift with his own funds, not draw on the Graves family vault.  Two weeks without pay would set him back a bit.

“I know, ma’am,” he said.  “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

“So be it,” she said.  “Leave your badge with Director Graves.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Bishoff.  That will be all,” Director Weiss told the stenographer, who gathered up her things and left.  She waited until Bishoff had gone before she folded her arms across her chest and said, “What the hell, Galahad?”

Galahad set his jaw, stubborn.

“I know you know better than this,” she said.  “You could have caused an international incident!”

Director Graves had said something similar.  Bellowed, actually.

“Concannon’s a fucking moron,” Galahad said, resisting the urge to yell.  Yelling at department heads rarely did any good.

“There are plenty of morons in the world.  A good number of them will be your superiors.  The correct way of dealing with them does not include going rogue, taking over the op and deciding you only follow orders if you feel like it!”

“His plan would’ve gotten half his team and all of mine killed,” Galahad said flatly.  “Have you looked at Concannon’s mission history?  The only reason he’s been promoted is because he’s related to the Canadian Minister.  The man is a vainglorious jackass.”

“Concannon’s mission history is irrelevant.”

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but it really isn’t.  I talked to his Aurors before I looked into his mission history.  He’s got the highest rate of injury in his division.”  Galahad clenched his jaw.  It wasn’t his place to tell the Canadians how to run their operations, but he was a Graves.  He had a duty to protect his people, no matter what the cost.  “The Canadians might be content to let him do whatever he wants, but I’m not going to stand by and watch while he gets my teammates killed just to advance his career!”

“Even at the expense of your own?” Weiss demanded.

“Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,” Galahad reminded her.  Weiss was one of the Twelve.  She knew what it meant to grow up with those words carved bone deep.  “Sometimes we get killed in the line of duty.  That’s the job.  But that doesn’t mean our lives are coin to be spent so cheaply.”

Weiss sighed.  “I know,” she said.  “I did look at Concannon’s mission history.  Graves never should’ve agreed to the joint task force.”

“He didn’t want to,” Galahad said. “Trust me.”

Weiss was too dignified to make faces, but Galahad got the impression she would have rolled her eyes if she could have.  “Yes, yes.  The Director of Magical Security does not dictate international policy,” she said, in a perfect imitation of Dad.

“Telling people to fuck off isn’t a great international policy,” Galahad agreed.

Weiss snorted.  “He would, wouldn’t he?”

“Can you blame him?”

Weiss ignored that, which meant that she agreed with him.  She was never, ever going to say so, though, because she and Dad didn’t exactly get along professionally.  They were fine with one another personally, but Aurors and the Eyrie were never going to see eye to eye.

She descended from the dais, her movements smooth and predatory despite her age.  Helmine Weiss was not a witch to be trifled with.

Galahad offered her his arm.

Weiss took it, one corner of her mouth quirking up in a faint smile.  Up close, MACUSA’s Ice Queen barely came up to his shoulder.  It was strange, realizing that such a terrifying figure was so tiny.

“You used to be so cute, you know,” she complained.  It was a frequent complaint, good-natured and teasing.  Galahad had heard it ever since he joined the Aurors.

“I used to be a lot shorter, too,” Galahad pointed out.  “Now I can reach the cookie jar and Dad’s liquor cabinet.”

“I had high hopes you were going to take after your papa,” she continued, ignoring him.  “But no.  You’re a Graves, through and through, down to the martyr-like tendencies.”

“Hey,” Galahad protested.  “I’m not as bad as Dad.”  No one was as bad as Dad.

Weiss patted his head.  “Of course you’re not.”

Galahad counted it a personal victory that she hadn’t tried to pinch his cheeks.  “It really doesn’t surprise me that you and Dad get along so well.”

“Bite your tongue, Galahad Graves.  Your father is insufferable.”

“Yeah,” said Galahad.  “He likes you too.”

[fireinmoonshot]

Trust.

Summary: “Basically the reader is a Kingsman, which a slightly mixed accent because one parent was from America (east coast), but one parent is from England. Basically the reader get’s to know and trust Whiskey, and eventually, obviously, they get together, which makes Whiskey rethink his plan to go against the Kingsman.” (Requested) Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader. Fandom: Kingsman. Warnings: None. Word Count: 1496

When Whiskey first met you, you were just another agent. You were like anyone else - there was nothing special about you and Whiskey wasn’t really bothered in trying to learn more about you. 

He was a one night stand kind of guy - he didn’t date, he didn’t fall in love. He absolutely did not do relationships. And, unless you were willing to sleep with him and forget all about it the next day, you weren’t worth a cent to him.

He had to admit, he was at least a little intrigued by your accent - both British and American. But that was where the fascination ended. He didn’t bother trying to figure out anything else about you other than your name. 

He’d first decided to speak to you when, one night after work, he found you down at the bar he usually spent his free time at. He couldn’t help himself and had walked over and sat down beside you, introducing himself as Jack. 

His suspicions were confirmed during that first night - he didn’t think all that much of you and he definitely considered asking you to accompany him back to his bed for the night, but after an extensive few minutes of thought, dismissed the idea, figuring that you wouldn’t really take it well. 

So, the two of you just sat and drank and talked. 

Whiskey didn’t really expect the feelings to come so early, if at all. He hadn’t been in love with anyone since his high school sweetheart, nor had he ever intended to fall in love with anyone again. As soon as he’d gotten over her, he’d vowed to be a strict one night stand only guy, and here you were, threatening to ruin that reputation. 

He tried to ignore them, of course, tried to think about and make you say things that were downright awful and rude just so he could try to get rid of them, but nothing worked, to his irritation. He supposed that spending every night at the bar with you didn’t really help, but he enjoyed your company and he couldn’t say no when you asked him to join you. 

He hadn’t intended to kiss you. But, he’d had a one drink too many and was absolutely drunk when the two of you left the bar that night. He had no idea that you’d grown to rather like and trust him, even though Harry had insisted you stay far away. So, while you were trying to ask him what way Statesman HQ was, he’d just leant in and kissed you.

You’d been completely taken by surprise, not expecting him to kiss you so soon, or even at all. But you hadn’t complained as you kissed him back. You’d expected his kiss to be rougher than it was, but you were pleasantly surprised by it as he pulled away and grinned cheekily at you.

He only had a very vague memory of it in the morning, though he didn’t feel as embarrassed by kissing you as he’d thought he would. So, he went off to Italy with Senior Galahad and Junior Galahad, not really overthinking the kiss too much, only knowing that when he came back, he’d probably kiss you again.

He knew it was reckless of him - he’d had the plan to get revenge for the death of his high school sweetheart ever since Poppy’s plan had been revealed. He knew you’d probably hate him after he betrayed Statesman and Kingsman and got all of those people killed. 

But he figured, as the plane landed in Italy, that he’d make the most of it while he could and see where things went from there. 

You ran faster and faster, pushing yourself harder as you ran to the infirmary. Jack had been shot. You didn’t know who had shot him, but you figured that it was by one of Poppy’s goons.

Luckily, Eggsy had been able to activate the alpha gel quick enough and it was expected that he’d live. You hoped so, anyway. Ever since the night at the bar a few days ago, you hadn’t been able to get your mind off of him. 

You knew it was stupid of you to be so hooked on him, especially when he’d only kissed you once and he’d been completely and utterly drunk when he did. You figured that he didn’t even remember it, anyway. And it would probably be better if he didn’t.

You hadn’t come to Statesman to fall in love, you’d come to help save the damned world, yet here you were, out of breath and running to a man who you were slowly falling in love with. 

Harry had come to you and Merlin two days earlier and told you that he didn’t think Whiskey could be trusted. Both you and Merlin didn’t believe him. He hadn’t given any reasons to not be trusted, but you had both promised Harry that you’d make sure nothing went wrong while he was in Italy with him. 

Yet, he’d been shot. Clearly, Harry had been wrong.

You pushed open the doors of the infirmary, breathing hard as you stopped in the doorway and looked at Ginger and Merlin. “Is he okay?”

Ginger nodded at you. “He should be fine,” she confirmed. “He’ll wake up in a minute or two. The process is almost done. You’re welcome to stay.” 

Merlin smiled at you and patted your shoulder as he exited the room, leaving you and Ginger alone with him. You watched as the machine did its magic and finally let him go. He sat straight up, his eyes instantly going to you. 

“Well, hello there, darlin,” he said, jumping up from the bed as if nothing was wrong with him. “The names Jack. And you’re gorgeous. How about we head back to my room?”

You looked at him, confused for a moment until you realised that he was suffering from the same retrograde amnesia that Harry had. You chuckled, walking backwards. Ginger watched on, smiling softly.

“My bed’s comfortable, but I think you’d find me more interestin’ than that, wouldn’t you? I have a special talent that you’d quite enjoy. It’d have you screamin’ my name so loud the neighbours could hear. What do you say?”

You chuckled softly and looked at him, highly amused. “Oh, Jack,” you muttered. Your eyes went to Ginger and she nodded slowly at you.

“Go on, give him his memory back,” she said. You’d spoken to her when Eggsy was trying to get Harry his memory back and had remembered when she said that he needed an important, triggering event to help. You’d told Ginger just after he left for Italy that Whiskey had kissed you. She seemed to believe that what you planned would work too.

You watched as she sent you a grin and left the room. 

He looked at you, a smirk on his face. “It’s a pretty hard offer to refuse...”

You held back a laugh before leaning in and kissing him. He kissed you back, rougher than he had the other day, until you could sense that his memory was returning and his kiss slowly got gentler. 

When you pulled away, Whiskey stood, looking down at you with a confused and conflicted look on his face. He’d remembered what Harry had done to him in Italy, though he knew he couldn’t tell you.

“Where’s Harry and Eggsy?” He asked, suddenly. 

“They’ve gone to Poppy’s base in Cambodia to stop her,” you explained.

He instantly knew that he couldn’t go through with it. He knew you’d never speak to him again if he did. He knew there was a chance he wouldn’t come back, either. 

He wanted to call Ginger in and ask her to get the Silver Pony ready for him to go in and pretend to aid them - to be the back up he supposed they desperately needed, but he knew that he’d lose you if he did.

You were too important to him now for him to be so reckless and run off after them. He knew he was letting his son and high school sweetheart down by letting it go. But if it mean losing you, he suddenly didn’t want to risk it anymore.

He knew that, if your kiss could help restore his memories, you were more than just a fling or one night stand material. If he left now, he’d never get to explore that sort of relationship with you. Even though, somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt like he should be going to stop Eggsy and Harry, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not anymore.

So, Whiskey took a deep breath, glancing at the door of the infirmary and nodding slowly. “Let’s go and find Ginger then. See what we can do from here,” he said. “Maybe, after all this is done, you and I can do what you just did again.”

[harryunwin-blog1]

#13 any kingsman ship you wish.

[oh yesssss– a perfect excuse for my old boys

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” Merlin asked, dropping into the chair beside Harry. He had a bottle of whisky in his hand and a tired, content look in his eyes. “I haven’t let that happen in thirty odd years.”

Harry snorted. “I suppose that’s true. Been a while, hasn’t it?”

   Merlin nodded. “That it has. So I don’t know why I had to use my tracker to find you, tonight of all nights.”

   Harry raised an eyebrow dryly. He considered sniping back at Merlin about his damned trackers, but instead he just turned his gaze towards the fireplace again. “Sorry. My glasses were in my pocket. I didn’t even realize.”

   Merlin eyed Harry for a moment, but ultimately decided pouring drinks was better than words. He handed Harry a glass and sat back, both men silently staring into the fire and sipping politely. They’d grown past words, really, after countless nights like this one. When a man gets on in years he finds it just as easy to feel companionship in proximity and shared alcohol as it is in stories or chatter.

   But, then again, words were good too.

   “Galahad and Lancelot have both checked in, home safely,” Merlin commented.

   “Oh, good,” Harry replied.

   “Mmm.”

   “What do you suppose he’s bought for little Daisy? He wouldn’t tell me.”

   “Oh, probably something expensive. Or ‘ninja turtle’ themed. Or both.”

   “She does have good taste,” Merlin granted.

   “And he adores her. As we all do,” Harry said, lips turning up slightly. They dropped a second later. “I wish things were easier for Roxanne, though.”

   “Me too,” Merlin said solemnly. “Two uncles in such a short time.”

   “We’ve all felt the loss. Maybe finally having a week off from saving the world will be good for the young ones.”

Merlin sipped his drink. “You know, the good thing about you never taking time off is that I never had to either. Except, you know… the year you were in that coma.”

“What?”

“Oh, aye, I could hardly let the night pass working while you were laid up in bed all alone.” Harry hadn’t been told about this. It left a warm feeling in his chest to imagine Merlin at his bedside, curling up with a book and a cup of tea.

“I wouldn’t have known the difference.”

“But I would have,” Merlin replied evenly, raising his tumbler to his lips. “It just didn’t feel right. I missed you, Harry. Those months were awfully hard for me.”

Harry let Merlin’s words settle between them, appreciating his oldest friend’s honesty. Something in his chest clenched though, and he had an awful stinging in his one remaining eye as he heard the unspoken words. Those months were difficult, he heard, but at least there was hope then. Harry looked at Merlin, and he was grateful that the Scot was resolutely staring at the fire. He felt immeasurable guilt about leaving Merlin, and Eggsy, and everyone else, leaving them for so long thinking he was dead. It wasn’t his fault, he knew that and his friends had told him so many times over, but he still felt bloody awful looking at Merlin’s strong, familiar face and seeing the toll it had taken. Knowing that in thirty years, he’d only missed one christmas. “I’m sorry, Merlin.”

“Ach, it wasn’t your fault,” he said again, waving his free hand dismissively. “Remember that year everyone requested time off, and you offered to take the big mission?”

“Yes, you absolute scoundrel,” Harry bit back as Merlin laughed heartily. “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Well, someone had to do it…” Merlin managed through his guffaws. He wiped at an eye. “You should have checked first, like everyone else. And besides, we could spend christmas together over the glasses. Wouldn’t have been the first time.”

“Would have been the first time while I was fighting mother nature for my life,” Harry grumbled, tipping back his glass.

“A little cold never hurt anybody.”

“Yes, actually, it has, and -40 degree weather is absolutely inhumane.” Harry turned his nose up as Merlin laughed again. He cracked a smile himself.

“Will you tell me finally?” Harry asked after a moment.

   “Tell you what?”

   “Why you never went back to see your family over the holidays,” Harry said, as if it were obvious. Right from the start, they’d spent their christmases together. Harry simply didn’t have any family to go back to, or else none that would have him. But he knew that Merlin had relatives that he contacted semi regularly, and young nieces and nephews that must surely be missing their uncle. Yet from their first christmas as colleagues, he’d stayed at HQ.

   “Ah, that,” Merlin murmured, swirling his glass slyly. “Well, my family’s a big group of atheists that never bothered with the festivities. Never had a christmas to celebrate.”

   “You what?” Harry stared at Merlin, eye wide. Merlin drained his glass. “But you always celebrated! You even started decorating your station a few years in!”

   “Well, yeah, but not for me,” Merlin said, finally glancing at Harry. “I read your file when you came on. I knew you didn’t have family, but you were raised as a good God fearing Catholic, whole lot of good that did. I thought… you know, I’d give you a taste of home, one you might actually enjoy.”

   Harry stared at Merlin, mouth open. His head spun. All these years, and Merlin didn’t even care about christmas? It was a sweet thing to do, but what a ridiculous con- so many years of acting. “You didn’t have to do all that. You don’t have to.”

   Merlin looked affronted. “Well, fine then. You won’t get your gift.”

   Harry flushed. That hadn’t come out quite right. He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, he just wasn’t as silver tongued as before the fatal head injury. “I didn’t mean- well- I- I just-”

   Merlin put a big, warm hand on top of his. He squeezed softly, giving Harry a reassuring look. He knew that he got flustered sometimes if he did something largely out of character, frustrated at himself for getting injured and being injured. Harry’s face still flamed, but he stopped stammering. Regretfully, Merlin took his hand back and walked to the doorway.

   “I didn’t mean that I don’t want you to,” Harry said, craning around in his chair. “I still cherish every christmas we’ve had.”

   “I know, I know,” Merlin said, returning with the gift wrapped rectangle he’d left out of sight. “I was just pulling your leg. Here.”

   He handed Harry his gift. Glad for the distraction, Harry set his glass aside and happily tore at the paper.

   “Oh,” Harry breathed, emotion sweeping over him. He dropped the gift wrap and held the frame up for close inspection. It was a beautifully pinned butterfly. And not just any specimen, but one of the same species that he had lauded as his prized possession before Poppy blew up his collection. It must have been incredibly difficult to find, and so perfectly preserved…. “Thank you, Merlin, thank you so much.”

   “You’re welcome, Harry,” Merlin grinned broadly, a rare and dazzling sight. “Only the best for my Arthur.”

   “I still think we ought to change that, I’ve had terrible experiences with the name,” Harry said, but it was only mechanical teasing as his eyes darted back and forth, admiring his new butterfly.

   “Well, we’ll put it to a vote, after christmas,” Merlin said comfortably, rising from his chair and taking Harry’s tumbler. He returned to the mantle to fill their glasses again. He knew the state Harry was in, so he didn’t expect anything in return. He was just glad that he’d gotten the man to genuinely smile again. But when he turned to take his place, there was a thin box in the center of the chair’s cushion. “What’s this now?”

   “Hmmm?” Harry hummed, eyes still trained on the frame.

   Merlin shook his head, taking the box and sitting down. Carefully removing the top, he furrowed his brows. After a second of reading, he barked in laughter. “How in the bloody hell did you find a John Denver cover band in London in 2017?”

   “And one that sells tickets,” Harry added. “I think it’s one guy with a guitar and an unpaid gig at a pub, but… thought you’d like it. I remembered.”

   “Yeah, that’s all it took,” Merlin teased.

   “Oh, and I forgot your other present in my room. Some oil, for when your legs start squeaking.”

   Merlin scoffed. “I designed them better than that, you daft bastard.”

   Harry smirked devilishly. He took a mouthful of whisky and put his glass aside, sinking further into his chair. Letting out a long breath, he ran a hand through his hair. Merlin always thought it was nice. Though no longer a deep chestnut brown, and rather streaked with gray, it was still a pleasant sight. He looked at Harry, Harry looked at the fire. “Thank you, Merlin.”

   “You have already.” Harry smiled at him.

   “Thank you for everything you’ve done. You’re terrific. You’ve rebuilt this organization from the ground up. I have no idea where we’d be without you. You’ve done such amazing things in only a few months. But then again, you’ve always been amazing.”

   Merlin chuckled. “Well, thank you for that.”

   “And thank you… for christmas,” Harry said shyly. He looked down at his hand.

   “No, I should thank you for that one,” Merlin said. “I never much cared for holidays when I was a lad, but now a year just wouldn’t be complete without this one.”

   “I know what you mean,” Harry murmured. He reached out, and suddenly their fingers were intertwined. They were the only ones currently in their new headquarters, but neither one felt alone. Not on christmas.

   “May I kiss you, Harry?” Merlin asked. Harry smiled.

[daddygraves]

Inktober Day 13. Foolish

Credit to @elletromil  and @zombiisheep for the fic idea.

This fic takes place in an alternate crack universe, (hence the theme, foolish) where Roxy came with Eggsy and Merlin to the Statesman, and Whiskey is the steretypical yeehaw drunk uncle, Tequila the debauchery aficionado and Merlin and Ginger are the platonic besties and mum and dad of all of them. Which I guess makes Champ the grandpa!

Here goes, a full 24hours late! So much for ‘a few hundred words’. @iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

•••••••••••••

Eggsy was never into cowboys as a kid.

Like any boy whose dad was a soldier, he'd been starry-eyed over plastic toy guns and figurines of macho, muscled marines. His poor mum had to positively wrestle off his favourite, threadbare camo-print shirt off him each day before bed. And even then, he'd sneak it out of the washing basket and yank it back on when she wasn't looking.

So cowboys weren't very high on his interest list, and naturally, Eggsy never expected to meet one. London was running kind of low on gunslinging, boot wearing Southerners, as it happened. And even when Eggsy pulled off his transformation from rough chav to sleek sav, he thought gentleman spies who saved the world from certain doom and got to kiss princesses were as far as it went.

But as he'd smugly announced to Richmond Valentine, while the megalomanic lay drowning in his own blood, this ain't that kind of movie bruv. Kingsman life was anything but normal, so when HQ got blown sky high by the Golden Circle last month, Eggsy, Merlin, and yesterday, Rox, had ended up becoming quite well acquainted with some cowboys- Statesman, as it turns out, were America's resident breed of spy. All named after alcohol, in typical Yankee fashion.

He's still not that big a fan of cowboys. Especially when said cowboys decide lassoing him and the not-dead object of his unrequited affections together is a perfectly reasonable course of action.

"I'm telling you, Merlin, I'm perfectly fine to be cleared for active duty!" Roxy argues, ponytail swinging wildly as she and the Scottish quartermaster spar yet again over a constant source of argument- her moon-booted leg.

"Lancelot," Merlin returns calmly, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard at Ginger's desk. "Yeh've been out of the infirmary for less than a week, which yeh wouldn't've been in if yeh'd stayed in hospital in London, like the doctor ordered. But no, yeh had to charge onto the first bloody plane t' Kentucky, and caused another stress fracture in yeh leg due t' the cabin pressure."

"Roxy, he's right, honey," Ginger sighs, tapping away at her own computer. She's champing at the bit to start the competition with Merlin- prior to the current argument, there'd been a text ping up on Eggsy's glasses from Roxy. Merlin + Ginger having a hacking competition at 2pm. Let's go?  Any form of distraction while they searched for the Golden Circle was more than welcome- even handlers need time off.

"What was I supposed to do, convalesce in my hospital bed while you go off and hunt down the people that destroyed Kingsman, and killed our colleagues?" the female agent retorts hotly, as both Merlin and Eggsy exclaim "Yes!" frustratedly.  Eggsy loves his best friend, he really does. But he and she both know she's fighting an uphill battle, even if he's the only one willing to admit it.

"What's all this here commotion?" Champ, Statesman's agent-in-chief, moseys into the room, twirling a cigar expertly between his fingers. Two figures follow him in- Agent Whiskey, moustachioed and booted, and Kingsman's own Harry Hart, shaven and suited.

The sight of Harry, living and breathing, walking around unhindered, still knocked the breath from Eggsy's lungs. Too recently, he'd still been wallowing in the swamp-like sludge of unresolved emotions concerning Harry's apparent death. The crushing guilt, the excruciating vice of grief, the sickening self-loathing for his own stupidity, the memory that their last interaction was an argument-

Even now, it made his stomach knot.

"Champ," Roxy acknowledges the silver-haired Southerner briskly. "Please-"

"I wouldn't bother if I were you, darlin," Whiskey drawls, leaning himself against the nearby whitewashed wall. The deep brown eyes beneath the brim of his hat survey the scene unfolding with vague amusement.

"Harry here has just spent the past minute finishin' convincin' Champ here that you ain't going anywhere. Not 'til that here leg," he flicks his eyes to the moon boot strapped over Roxy's grey paintsuit. "Be fully healed up."

But before Roxy can unleash her wrath on Harry, Eggsy chimes in, tearing his eyes from the elder Kingsman finally.

"Harry's right, Rox, s'what I've been tryna tell ya. Ya only just got here, ya not fully healed, all ya gonna do is f-"

"Of course you take his side!" Roxy snaps back at him, indignation and fury clear in her eyes. Oh shit- he should know by now when to pick his battles with her. Hurricane Roxy was not an experience Eggsy enjoyed.

"What's tha supposed to mean?" Eggsy retaliates uncertainly, sneaking a sideways glance at Harry, who is also regarding Roxy with apprehension.

"Oh don't play coy now, boys," Whiskey purrs, raising an eyebrow smugly. Suddenly, the room seems a little too airtight, and far too warm. "You don't think we didn't all see your cute lil' reunion in Harry's room?"

"And can I just say," Agent Tequila, who has so far been silent, sprawled in a chair in the corner, contributes. "Ya'll shoulda see your here face when I pulled up that curtain on Galahad Sr.'s room, when ya first got here." He flicks his chin in Eggsy's direction, before leaning back to fish around in his  jacket pockets for chewing tobacco.

Eggsy and Harry simultaneously erupt into indignant protests.

"What on earth-"

"Oh fuck off, all of ya-"

"Merely happy to see my protege-"

"I just found out he was alive, I fink my response was pretty appropriate-"

"He has a girlfriend-"

Not anymore, he didn't. Eggsy's gut gives a funny twist, but he quickly returns to the issue at hand. But with reflexes faster than the human eye, Whiskey's whip appears in the cowboy's hand. And Eggsy realises a second too late what's about to happen, as he and Harry stand side by side, still spluttering feeble excuses.

It all happens so quickly. The tight cord of the rope yanks the pair of men together instantaneously, so quickly the two bonk heads, and as they teeter on the spot momentarily, a previosuly unseen cupboard door is flicked open by Tequila. Eggsy and Harry only have a second to yowl in protest as a shove sends them toppling into the confines of a dark Statesman broom closet, and the secure click of a lock is heard on the other side.

There's a second of stunned silence. And then the pair of spies begin wriggling and hollering with all their might, bumping against all manner of cleaning items and the door.

"Pipe down in there, ya'll," Champ's voice filters through the light-light crack near the floor, as raucous laughter can be heard. "Merlin and Ginger be about to start the contest."

"Let us the fuck out!" Eggsy roars, as Harry adds peevishly "I second that motion."

"Short answer; no," Whiskey's tone can be heard now, and Eggsy can just picture the fucker inspecting his fingernails casually. "We're all sick to high heaven of ya'll's pining and lovelorn looks. I can't imagine what poor Merlin and Roxy here been having to endure, if we've only had just a taste of it these past few weeks."

The muffled sound of Merlin and Roxy agreeing  with enthusiastic despair only incenses Galahads Jr. and Sr. more.

*******************************************************************************************

There's dead silence in the room, punctuated only by the furious clatter of computer keys being slammed by speedy fingers. Merlin and Ginger are hunchbacks over their keyboards, as the Statesman and Roxy look on nervously.

"How long d'you think it'll take them to give up and just admit it?" Roxy wonders aloud, as muted shouts and thumps still sound against the securely locked door.

"A good while yet, I should think," Champ chuckles, leaning his elbows on the back of Ginger's chair as he squints at the computer screen.

"Don't worry Ginger, ya'll gonna make mincemeat of this Scottish chap."

"Ha," Merlin mutters under his breath, face lit with almost evil glee as he determinedly chips his way through NASA's firewall.

**********************************************************************************************

So no only has Eggsy found himself buddy-buddy with a bunch of cowboys, where his best friend turns up less than a month after an entire mansion fell on her, with nothing but a broken leg to show for it. He finds himself face to face with a very not dead Harry fucking Hart, quite literally, shoved into a very cramped, dark cupboard, where a bottle of cleaning fluid is slowly leaking into his bespoke. Fan-fucking-tastic.

His shoulder's starting to get sore from ramming it against the sturdy, unmoving door. But nothing could compare to the sheer shattering feeling of when he'd found Harry alive, in that white padded room, and no trace of recognition had flitted across the slightly lined face of his former mentor.

Yep. Eggsy's in love with Harry. Of course he fucking is, as if shit couldn't get more complicated. Especially since he has, or used to have,  a fucking girlfriend. But more on that later.

"Eggsy, enough."

"No!" Eggsy shouts at Harry utterly focused on ramming the door down with every ounce of strength he had left in him. He couldn't stay in here with Harry, he couldn't, it was too difficult-

"Eggsy, you are going to hurt yourself." Harry's tone is somehow so much calmer than it had been just moment earlier. "An injury would mean you were off the assignment, which we cannot afford. Please, stop."

Eggsy pauses, considering Harry's words. Giving the door one final whack, having no effect, he leans back against some very uncomfortable shelving. Which is hard to do, considering every movement he makes brings Harry with him, due to the sheer lack of space.

"They'll give it up eventually," Harry reassures him. But the elder spy seems ever so careful not to reveal any particular inclination or otherwise towards Eggsy.

Hmm.

*******************************************************************************************

"Ya'll want some dinner?" Tequila declares to the small gathering some hours later, still huddled around the computers. "This shit is takin' ages, makes a man work up an appetite."

"You've literally done nothing, Tequila," Ginger exclaims, but there's no bite in her words. "Do you want to swap with me and have a crack at finding NASA's correspondence with aliens?"

"Naw, I'm fine," Tequila brushes her off, getting to his feet. "They'd delete all that shit anyways."

"Ya'll want KFC?"

There's a chorus of 'yeah', and the youngest Statesman saunters out.

Champ exhales quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "He's got smarts when he's on a mission, but that kid's brains wouldn't amount t' a hill o' beans."

"Funny that," Merlin interjects, completely focused on the task at hand. "Ginger's tech skills amount to about the same."

"Oh I cannot wait to wipe the floor with you, Merlin," the woman shoots back in good humour. "After the files I had to extract from the Pentagon last year, this is a goddamn cakewalk."

*******************************************************************************************

"Merlin." Harry's voice is loud enough within the tight confines of the cupboard that Eggsy is sure the tech whiz would've heard them.

"Not now, 'Arry. I'm busy. Stop texting me with your glasses, I'm tryin' to win a bottle of whisky."

"Merlin," Harry draws out the 'i', sounding almost whiney. "You wouldn't leave your oldest friend locked in a cupboard, would you?"

"I'm sure he would, given the amount of whinging you saddle him with about Eggsy." Whiskey japes.

What?

"Oi," Eggsy cries, straightening and staring Harry down accusingly. The older man has the decency to look slightly guilty, under the limited light the door frame provided. "Why're ya whinging 'bout me for?"

"It's not whinging," Harry protests somewhat feebly, staring at the ground, but Eggsy's right pissed off now.

"If anything, it's me who should be doing the whingin', eh? I'm the one you left behind, to go play the hero here!"

Harry's face changes, and Eggsy can just tell the taller man's hackles are finally up. Good. Let him suffer for a bit too.

"If you'd simply done as I asked, Eggsy, and completed all the tests, as instructed, we wouldn't've had a row. But to suggest I had your father stuffed, inside my house?!-"

Eggsy doesn't give a shit that he's interrupting, and that will only add fuel to Harry's already dangerous tone. "I said tha' shit in anger, bruv! Ya called me back with that cab like a dog on a fuckin' leash. And what 'bout ya sayin' that everything ya did for me was 'bout my dad anyways?"

He's sailing into dangerously emotional territory here, but Eggsy has really lost all his fucks to give. "Didn't I mean anything t' you?"

"You could not be further from the truth."

Harry's icy tone makes Eggsy revert to sulky silence.

"This is utterly fucking ridiculous," Harry sighs a short while later, rubbing his temples with both hands. His elbow nearly catches Eggsy in the face, and the slow sounds of enthusiasm and can be heard outside in the room, cheering Merlin and Ginger on. There's also the smell of fried chicken, wafting deliciously into the cupboard, and Eggsy's stomach lets out a rumble.

"Do you remember our breakfast, the day before your final test?" Harry asks suddenly, looking at Eggsy with interest. All anger has melted from his chestnut eyes.

"'Course I do," Eggsy mumbles, over the growing hubub outside. That morning was one of the few precious memories he had with Harry, and not one he was likely to forget.

"M'so sorry, Harry. 'Bout your house. It's all my fault."

"Nonsense, Eggsy," Harry placates him, even as the younger man protests.

"All ya furniture, Mr Pickle,-"

"Houses and antique furniture, even butterflies," Harry argues patiently, yet determinedly. "Theyre are all replaceable,. Mr Pickle is ingrained firmly into my memory, too. Even if he isn't sitting in my lavatory, he will always be in my heart."

There's silence again, apart from cheering, as both men consider Harry's words. "Now what I truly couldn't bear, would be being locked inside that awful padded room for the rest of my days, with no one to rescue me. As terrible as it sounds, without everything we've lost, you never would have found me again. So in a way, I must be grateful for all these tragedies. Because without them, I may never have remembered."

"The thought of not remembering such a large portion of my life- Kingsman, Melrin, you-" an unconscious shudder wracks Harry, jostling Eggsy in the small space. "It's unimaginable."

"But even if I didn't know you, during my period of amnesia..." Harry's voice trails off, and Eggsy meets his gaze again. "I wanted to."

Was there some hidden message behind Harry's words, that's flying right over Eggsy's head?

Maybe his should just come out with it. His conscience is nudging him every so gently, trying to build a scrap of confidence within him. When was Eggsy ever going to get the chance to tell Harry how he felt, in a private, dark cupboard, ever again?

Harry's arm knocks something, which makes a metallic souding rattle. Fumbling around in the dark corner of the cupboard, he suddenly cautiously brandishes a crowbar, of all things.

"Finally."

But as Harry squeezes his arm past to begin his assault on the cupboard door, something makes Eggsy catch the elder spy's muscular arm in hand.

"Harry, wait!"

The taller of the two freezes, looking to Eggsy questioningly.

"Yes?"

It all just comes out in a fumbling, mad rush, like water out of a spilt jug.

"Look this is really fuckin' awkward an' weird an- oh fuck it, I'm in love wif' ya and I don't know what-"

"What?" Harry's face is a beacon of astonishment. "What on earth?!- Your girlfriend?- you have-"

"No actually, I don't." Eggsy's breathing is shallow, and his palms are shaking, but he clenches them into fists. If he doesn't get this all out and over with now, he never will. He'll never be able to move on if he doesn't shoot straight and sharp, and tell this stupid, oblivious man how arse over tits for him Eggsy is. "We broke up, like we shouldve done months ago. Because she was only ever a distraction, as bad as that sounds, cos' you were dead, an' I was tryin' to get over you-"

Harry immediately tries to interject with urgency, and Eggsy is suddenly glad the chaos outside over the hacking race means no one can hear them.

"No. Shut up, ok, shut up. I'm trying to tell ya how I feel, I've been in love with ya since ya bailed me out of Holborn, if I dont say this now I'll never get the courage to do it again, because ya a tall, gorgeous fucking spy, who's literally sex on legs, I know ya don't love me back, this'll be real awkward once we bust open that door,  but I get it it's all good, I'll leave you be, cos ya in love w me dad or somethin-"

"Don't you dare".

Harry Hart, chest heaving, spits, and shocks Eggsy into silence with nothing but a burning look. Something that vaguely sounds like a squeak leaves Eggsy's chest, and he's abruptly aware of how close they have been, this whole time in the matchbox of a cupboard, chests touching.

"Don't you dare go and leave me again, Gary Eggsy Unwin. Because, if you would ever let me finish, I am not in love with your father."

Eggsy's bewilderment is clearly plastered upon his face, because Harry sighs heavily, and with frustration, ignoring the apparent stadium full of football fans hollering outside. He lays those massive, elegant hands of his on Eggsy's shoulders for emphasis.

"I am hopelessly and utterly in love with you, you gigantic pillock".

Oh my God. This had to be a dream, Eggsy thinks faintly, as this beautiful ray of numbness fills his brain. He was dreaming, he must be, as a slow smile slides across his face.

"Is this the bit where we kiss, then?"

******************************************************************************************

"Go, Merlin, go!" Roxy screeches, hands pressed to her mouth in tights fists of anticipation, as Merlin and Ginger thunder down the home stretch of their race, hands a blur of slamming keys.

"Geddim', Ginger!" Champ howls, Tequila and Whiskey echoing the sentiments of encouragement, as both quartermasters clatter away, slit-eyed and teeth-gritting.

"Yes!" The choppy bob shoves her roller chair away from the desk, arms raised in victory, and is immediately drawn into a jumping circle of victory by her Statesman colleagues, whooping and hooting. Merlin graciously bows his head, Roxy placing a comforting arm on his shoulder, as the two amusedly observe the scene of celebration. Until a lightbulb goes off in the resident Lancelot's head.

"Time to let them out I think," she utters, and in a few short steps, arrives at the cupboard door, and flicks the latch open.

Galahad Jr. and Sr. emerge from the confines of the dark cupboard, with just as much grace as they entered it. But this time, their embrace, which makes both men topple to the floor humiliatingly, seems utterly consensual.

And now it's Roxy and Merlin's turn to join the celebrations, as their best friends pick themselves off the floor, but link hands, smiling a little bashfully.

"You owe me a hundred quid, Ginger!" Merlin announces with relish, reclining in his chair.

"Not 'til I get my bottle of this supposedly amazing scotch whiskey, minus the e, for kicking your ass in hacking."

[randomactuallywrites-57]

Blessed

Title: Blessed Author: randomwriter57 Rating: G Word Count: 5,368 Event + Prompt: @sormikweek day three - Marlind: Knowledge/Nature Summary: Twas a meeting between a travelling scholar and a deity of knowledge which pushed their lives into motion. Notes: This one got super out of hand and turned out more like a beginning of a larger work than a oneshot. If there’s enough interest, I might continue it, if there’s enough interest, but regardless please enjoy!

Also on: AO3

Twas on a night of the waning moon when a traveller stepped into the Wontiga Inn to ask a question most peculiar.

After purchasing a room for the evening along with a hearty meal, he asked nonchalantly, “Might you point me in the direction of a waterfall?”

The innkeepers were a couple of the most ordinary variety. Sure, in their time of running this inn, passed between kin for generations, they had seen a great many sorts of people. They had seen those who begged for shelter and sustenance, and those who lorded their riches above them. Over time, they saw strange people with entirely covered faces and a complete lack of belongings. They soon learnt that it is an innkeeper’s job not to ask questions.

Yet, out of all the people they had encountered, none had ever asked for such odd directions.

“There are a great many waterfalls in Lakehaven Heights,” the innkeeper told the traveller. “It is only a day’s trip from here.”

“Ah, so I’ve heard,” said the traveller. “However, the waterfall I am seeking is a very particular one. I have heard tell it is a sacred waterfall, though I could not tell you its name.”

“I do not suppose you mean the Galahad Falls,” the innkeeper said, “for they are prohibited from public entry.”

The innkeeper’s wife, a woman of kind disposition, stepped over from the dining area of the inn. “Perhaps you are searching for the Great Morgan Falls?”

“Perhaps,” said the traveller. “If you could point me in that direction, that would be much appreciated.”

“I know someone who can draft you a map leading there,” the innkeeper said. “It will take but a few days.”

But the traveller shook his head. “I have a map. Just your directions will be aid enough.”

The traveller thanked them and retired to his room. Before dawn the next morning, the traveller packed his belongings and placed the brass key on the inn’s front desk, alongside a note of thanks and some spare gald. He left before the waning moon could disappear from the sky.

This particular traveller was not new to his vocation. For many years had he walked each corner of the Glenwood continent, from the far reaches of east to the desert of the west. In each destination he reached would he stay at least a week, learning the legends of the area, before at last departing for a new location. Marlind too had once been one of these locations, but on this occasion he could not afford to make pause.

This traveller, Sorey, had but one dream: to learn all he possibly could about the deities of legend.

In this world, humans believed there to be invisible beings of divine power who brought about blessings unto the world. These beings, revered by the people within dedicated shrines, were known as deities. To most humans, they served as hope for the future, a faith they could believe in in the darkest of ages.

Sorey knew better.

During his travels he met with several people of varying faith who knew far more than he could dream of about the deities. A few claimed even to have seen them with their own eyes - ethereal beings, human in appearance save for their beauty and divinity. One particularly well-versed traveller told him that only humans with an innate quality known as ‘resonance’ could see these beings.

Each deity gave a different kind of blessing, from agricultural prosperity to family health, even mere blessings of good luck.

The deity Sorey sought was one he could find nowhere else in Glenwood - a deity of knowledge. For it was knowledge which Sorey sought above all else. Even if he could not see the deity, praying to them and seeing their vessel would surely allow him to learn more about their kind.

For an entire day did Sorey travel through Falkewin Hillside into Lakehaven Heights, for the most part on foot. As he came close to the capital, Ladylake, he found a caravan travelling in the direction of the village of Kylfe, which lay closer to the mountains where waterfalls could be found. In this caravan did he spend the remainder of his journey.

It is true that Lakehaven Heights was a field of beauty, with rolling hills flanking the south as domineering mountains stretched across the north. From these mountains did the waterfalls spill, their bounties crashing down onto the rivers below. Truly it was a magnificent sight, even to an untrained eye.

With a little luck, Sorey had only to travel a mile or two from Kylfe when he found a tattered sign pointing him in the direction of the Great Morgan Falls. The waterfall stood even taller than those surrounding it, its current far more powerful. It was no wonder, Sorey thought, that this particular waterfall was an object of worship.

He approached the waterfall and, finding the hidden gap between the rushing water and the rock wall, slid into the cave lurking behind it, out of the sight of most passers-by.

This was the shrine he sought.

Past the door engraved with ancient symbols did Sorey find a circular hall containing a small pool of water. Blue light gave the walls a glow which enlivened the ruin, making the room buzz with a calm energy. It felt almost holy, standing a place so pure and untouched.

People of a less patient disposition might have moved on quickly from the main hall, but Sorey remained, analysing the architecture of the room with a keen eye. Above him stood several long platforms, twining through each other to lead to opposite sides of the ruin. Even from this small main room, he could see the complexity of this ruin. His heart raced in his chest.

How exciting.

After a few moments of awe, Sorey ventured further into the ruin, passing through a corridor before entering a room in the shape of a T. Eyes glared on the walls to either side, waiting for him to take a single step. His heart sunk a little.

This ruin, it seemed, might have been more difficult to traverse than he had hoped.

In any case, he let himself be caught by the traps, testing the waters of their consequences. A bubble of water surrounded him upon his appearance in their sight, moving him seamlessly into the main hall once more, facing the pool of water.

This time, he was not alone.

Standing ankle-deep in the pool of water was a being he could only describe as ethereal. This person seemed to glow with a divine beauty, their lilac eyes widening slightly as they caught sight of him. Half of their hair fell graciously to the right of their face, swooping in a swirl of white-blue. The other half was pulled back, exposing a thin metal frame which continued under his fringe. On their right ear glittered a teardrop earring, connected by a thin silver chain to a cuff higher up on their ear.

Though their face was beautiful in and of itself, Sorey became only more entranced as his eyes gazed upon the rest of this being’s attire. Their clothes were of an intricate design, layers of pale blues mixing with accents of white. Parts of their skin were left unsheathed, revealing pale shoulders and hips. Over it all they wore a sheer stretch of fabric, attached to bands on their arms so it would drape over their body without the need to be clutched.

This being was the most beautiful person Sorey had ever seen.

“Who might you be?” he asked breathlessly.

After a moment’s hesitation, the being answered in a tenor filled with aristocracy. “I ought to be asking you the same question. What business do you have here?”

“My name is Sorey,” he said, standing so he could bow his head respectfully. “I am a travelling scholar. I came on the information that there might be a deity of knowledge residing within these ruins.”

“You have indeed come to the right place,” the person said. “I am that deity.”

Sorey’s head shot up. It was no wonder, now, that the person looked so beautiful. If he truly was a deity, then the implications were enough to boggle his mind entirely. “I-is that so? Then I am honoured to be in your presence, noble deity.” He bowed once again, this time at the waist.

“You may rise,” the deity said. “I am not one to care so much for formality.”

Following his request, Sorey said, “Might I ask your name, then?”

The deity pursed his lips for a moment in thought. “Mikleo.”

“Mikleo,” Sorey repeated in the same breathless tone as before. The name fit his appearance. “Do you not often see people within this ruin?”

“Not at all. I believe you are the first human I’ve seen for at least a decade.” Mikleo crossed his arms over his chest. “I suppose your business here is related to my blessing?”

“Partially, yes. I was also curious about these ruins, though more so upon seeing them for myself.” He looked up once more, feeling the weight of his tiny size against the crushing enormity of the ruins above. “These ruins must date from at least the Era of the Gods, right?”

“I’m not sure,” Mikleo said. “Though I believe your guess is correct, it is possible that these could be an imitation.”

“Pardon any rudeness, but I’m not sure I agree.”

Mikleo raised a single eyebrow, though his eyes now held a light Sorey had not seen in them before. “Oh?”

“It’s unlikely that anyone would build a fake ruin of this scale, is it not?”

“Such an assumption is rooted in conventional beliefs.”

“These are beliefs I have studied over many years,” Sorey said, pulling out his most treasured tome from his bag. “Books such as this hold the key to the past for humans like myself. Though I would be interested in hearing the perspective of one who has not studied such tomes.”

“I for one would like to know how books written by humans, who have such short lifespans, might be more accurate than the history deities such as myself have seen firsthand.” Mikleo lowered himself into a cross-legged position in the pool of water.

Sorey did the same on the dry ground, laying his book in front of him but not so far as to get it wet. “Where shall we begin, then?”

For hours, the human and the deity debated the history of the world, theories bouncing back and forth between two who had not long ago been complete strangers. Sorey soon learned that Mikleo, for all his talk, had lived only just over a couple of decades, which was far less time than many other deities. Most of the history he knew, therefore, had been heard secondhand from other deities, before he had become the sole deity of the Lefay shrine.

“I am a disciple of Amenoch, the Goddess of Wisdom,” said Mikleo in defence of himself. “Does that not mean my knowledge is more trustworthy than those books?”

“Not when you take into account the bias of those who taught you,” Sorey countered.

In time, Mikleo fell in love with the books Sorey showed him. In that same amount of time, Sorey swore he fell in love with the deity. It was impossible, improbable, not to mention an awful idea considering their disparities. Still, he could not deny how his heart wrenched within his chest at the thought of leaving.

However, the time soon came that Sorey’s body could no longer cope without the burdens of humanity.

“May I return once I am rested?” Sorey asked as Mikleo pushed him toward the door, concern flashing in his eyes. “I would love to continue this discussion.”

“Allow two full days of rest to pass first,” Mikleo said. “By the time of your return, I will have read this book, and our discussion will be more fulfilling.”

Sorey beamed. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing you then.”

Leaving his most treasured tomes in the hands of the deity, he finally left the Lefay shrine, his mind racing with possibilities.

As promised, Sorey allowed two full days to pass before he returned to the ruin behind the waterfall. In that time he re-read one of the books he hadn’t lent to Mikleo, scrawling notes of things he wanted to discuss with the deity. In times of idleness, he found himself wondering what Mikleo might be doing. His curiosity was not strong enough to go against the deity’s request, however, and he kept himself to his word.

When he returned to the shrine, upon stepping into the main cavern, he called Mikleo’s name. Not a moment later, Mikleo appeared in a flash of blue light, sitting cross-legged in the pool as though he hadn’t moved since their last encounter.

“Hello,” he said, letting the corner of his lips turn upwards. “I see you kept your promise.”

“Of course I did!” Sorey fell comfortably into the same sitting position but on dry land. “There’s no telling what you might have done otherwise.”

Mikleo smirked. “Oh, I can only imagine the possibilities.”

“Hey!”

It didn’t take long for the pair to fall into the rhythm they’d created last time, picking up their debates without missing a beat. Once again they found themselves debating for hours on end, occasionally breaking so Sorey could tell Mikleo anecdotes about his travels.

“Have you never ventured outside of this shrine?” Sorey asked after one such story.

“The farthest I’ve been was to the village of the deities,” Mikleo said. “For the most part, I have been bound to my vessel and cannot leave.”

“Your vessel?”

Mikleo nodded his head towards the pool he sat in. “This pool of water is my vessel. It protects me from a miasma known as malevolence, which has severe effects on deities such as myself.”

Suddenly, the appearing in the pool made sense.

“Malevolence?” Sorey said, ever curious. “What is that?”

Mikleo explained it thusly: Malevolence is invisible to the eyes of humans, but it is produced through their negative emotions and wrongdoings. When a deity, who thrives on the prayers of the humans, is overcome by this substance, their soul may become corrupted.

Sorey took in this information with the utmost attention. His curious nature made him want to ask more questions about the nature of deities and malevolence, but before he could open his mouth to do so, Mikleo changed the subject to a new debate which distracted them both.

That evening, when Sorey left with the promise to return once more in two days’ time, he felt eyes watching him from the other side of the river. When he turned to look, he saw no one.

What Sorey could not see, and failed to see as he turned away to head back towards Kylfe, was the figure of a deity watching him, eyes narrowed in a glare.

Over time, Sorey continued to visit Mikleo every couple of days. They continued their discussions about historical theories as well as learning more about each other’s cultures and lives. It didn’t take long for Sorey to become sure of his emotions - with every moment spent at Mikleo’s side, he wanted more and more to stay with him for as long as he possibly could.

And perhaps it was his positive outlook skewing things, but sometimes he wondered if Mikleo might feel the same way towards him. After all, Mikleo was becoming far more open towards him now, often laughing and joking with him. He smiled at him when he arrived in the mornings, and looked saddened whenever the time came for Sorey to leave.

Speaking of, each time Sorey left the ruins, he felt those eyes watching him, though he could never place where the feeling came from. Once or twice he saw a traveller or a merchant standing nearby, usually checking a map or heading in the opposite direction. Still, he felt somewhat irked, not knowing what this feeling could be.

In any case, Sorey ignored it. As the seasons changed and the temperatures fell, he continued to step through the frosted fields towards the waterfall, which rushed into the river, undeterred by the ice forming on more stagnant bodies of water. On one particular occasion, the coldest day of the year so far, he arrived at the ruin to find Mikleo shivering slightly, his own pool frozen over from the cold.

“It happens every year,” Mikleo said, today sitting on the outside of the pool, closer to Sorey. He wrapped his almost bare arms around himself. “I usually am not so deterred by the cold, but this year…”

Sorey, not wanting to see him suffering, took off his warm white cloak and placed it gently around his shoulders. “Even if you are a deity, you might get sick if you get too cold. You should be careful.”

Mikleo looked up at him with wide eyes, then smiled gently, pulling the edges of the cloak around himself. “Thank you.”

Of course, Mikleo repeated the same sentiment towards him, reminding him that he should also be careful in the cold, considering that he was much more vulnerable as a human. At one point he suggested that Sorey make his visits less frequent, though he looked downward as he did, as though reluctant to suggest it. Naturally, Sorey refused. He continued to visit Mikleo on the same basis as before, and Mikleo did not suggest him coming less often again.

For a time, it felt like this would be their natural rhythm, from now on. Sorey felt at peace, spending his time visiting Mikleo and learning and talking with him. Though he occasionally felt the travel bug, he also didn’t want to leave.

That is, until he was forced to.

On a night in Kylfe, a sylphjay tapped upon his window, bearing a letter twice its own size. When Sorey opened the window, the bird fluttered inside, dropping the letter and perching on a bedpost.

It was natural for Sorey to be surprised at the appearance of a letter. After all, he was usually travelling, making it more difficult for people to get in touch with him. Then again, recently he hadn’t been travelling, which likely made it easier for people to reach him. In any case, without knowing who the sender might be, he opened the letter.

The letter did not bring good news. In fact, it bore the worst news Sorey could think of: his mother, whose body had been frail ever since his own birth, had been overcome by severe illness. The doctor caring for her did not know how long she might last, and the likelihood of her recovering was slim. He advised him to return to his home in Pendrago as soon as he could, so he could be at her side in her final hours.

Sorey had to go. He couldn’t leave his mother to suffer alone like this.

It tore him apart, though, to think of leaving Mikleo. He didn’t know how long he might be gone for - if his mother was truly as sick as the doctor said, it might be a while, counting travel time. But he knew Mikleo would understand.

He began packing that very evening.

The next morning, he left the inn before dawn, his belongings packed away in a bag, and a few thousand gald left on the counter. Rather than heading south, towards Ladylake, he instead headed north, towards the waterfall. The walk felt shorter than most other days, and he barely noticed the feeling of being watched as he slid through the entry and headed for the door.

“Mikleo?” he said when he entered the cavern.

The deity appeared as always, eyes wide. He still wore the cloak around his shoulders, and stood just outside of the frozen pool. “Sorey? It hasn’t already been two days, has it?”

Still, even as he asked this, Mikleo noticed the bag in Sorey’s hand and the travelling cloak around his shoulders.

“What happened?” Mikleo asked.

“I received a letter last night,” Sorey said. “My mother is ill, and the doctor isn’t sure how much longer…” He trailed off, not wanting to even think of the possibility. “I have to be with her.”

“I see.” Mikleo’s face crumpled. “That is an awful thing to happen. I wish I could do anything to help.”

“No, please don’t worry! Even just being by my side has helped me. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t leave here, but…”

“I understand.”

Sorey stepped forward, gently taking one of Mikleo’s hands in his own. “I promise I’ll return as soon as I possibly can.”

Mikleo met his eyes with a searching gaze. “Why?”

“Because you are important to me.” Sorey smiled at Mikleo. “I cannot be sure of your feelings, but I don’t want to be away from you for a long time. Just the thought is painful.”

“When must you leave?” Mikleo said after a moment’s pause.

“As soon as possible,” Sorey answered reluctantly.

Mikleo looked down at their linked hands, and said quietly, “I will give you a parting gift, then.”

Before Sorey could react, Mikleo took his hand out of Sorey’s and placed it, along with his other hand, on each of Sorey’s cheeks. His cloak fell away from his shoulders, but he made no move to retrieve it. Instead, he leaned onto the tips of his bare feet, moved ever closer, closed his eyes.

Before he knew it, Mikleo’s lips were on his.

The kiss felt impossible. His lips were warm and gentle, and a tingle of energy buzzed in Sorey’s mouth, moving down his throat and spreading through his body. All he could feel was that energy and the soft curve of Mikleo’s thumbs brushing against his cheekbones and the light press of Mikleo’s chest against his own. The sheer fabric on Mikleo’s arms tickled Sorey’s arms lightly. And yet, somehow with all these sensations rushing through him, his mind felt calm, at ease. He found himself closing his own eyes, relaxing into Mikleo’s touch.

Except then the warmth faded, and Mikleo moved away. Just as Sorey opened his eyes once more, he caught Mikleo’s final word to him - a whispered “farewell” before he disappeared into his vessel once more, leaving Sorey alone.

Now he could think properly, his mind felt filled with possibilities, buzzing with that familiar energy. He felt as though he could be asked any question and know the answer without thinking. He wondered for a moment if Mikleo might have given him his blessing, just now.

“Thank you,” Sorey said to the seemingly empty room. Then and only then did he leave Lefay and head towards Ladylake.

In a city such as Ladylake, it’s easy to hear the rumour mill turning. There are enough people there that information spreads quickly. This meant that, when Sorey arrived in Ladylake, he didn’t even reach the inn before he heard about the Griflet Bridge.

“I can’t believe it collapsed without warning,” one merchant was saying to a civilian. “The bridge was supposed to be so well made.”

“How are we supposed to get to Marlind now?” said another to his workmate, looking in disdain at their stock.

Indeed, that was a question which now plagued Sorey’s mind. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt that there was definitely another route into Rolance which didn’t require usage of the Griflet Bridge, but for now it felt like he had no options.

In any case, he continued his journey towards the Sanctuary, focusing first and foremost on his original goal before finding a new solution.

The Sanctuary in Ladylake was an age-old building which had served faith in Hyland for the longest time. Sorey had never visited before, but he had heard during his travels that there lived a deity within this Sanctuary who provided a blessing for family safety and security. Though he himself had already been blessed by Mikleo, and he felt that asking for another blessing might be selfish, in times such as these he also felt like he had no other options. Especially when he didn’t know if he’d be able to get to Pendrago in time to help his mother.

Sure enough, when he entered the Sanctuary, it didn’t take him long to notice the woman sitting atop the altar  of the legendary Sacred Blade. Even were she not a deity she may have stood out due to the sheer length of her white hair, which flowed down to her feet, ending in a tip of red. Like Mikleo, she wore intricate clothing, though she wore a skirt which spread around her as she sat on the step, lifted a little to show her red shoes, high heels with green pendants dangling from the ankle straps. Her gaze was cast off to the middle distance, bright blue-green eyes focused on a world no one but her could see.

This had to be the deity Sorey sought.

“Excuse me,” he said in a quiet tone, once he reached the bottom of the altar.

The deity did not respond. He repeated his words, this time a little louder. This time, she looked towards him, her eyes widening when she realised he was speaking to her.

“You can see me?” the deity said in a melodic, yet questioning tone.

“I can,” he said. He bowed in greeting. “My name is Sorey. I apologise for my abruptness, but might I ask you a favour?”

“O-of course. What is it you require?”

“I heard that your blessing is one of family safety and security?”

“Yes, that is right.”

“Then I beseech you - please bestow your blessing upon my mother.” Sorey bowed once more. “She lives in Pendrago, and I am on my way to her side, but the Griflet Bridge has been destroyed. I am worried I might not make it in time.”

The deity paused before speaking. “I can do so, but before that - I feel a presence. You have already received the blessing of a powerful deity, have you not?”

Sorey straightened up again, cheeks colouring at the memory. “Er, yes. A deity who lives within the shrine of Lefay bestowed his blessing upon me.”

“Surely you speak not of Mikleo?” The deity looked almost as surprised by this as she had been by the revelation that he could see her. “You spoke with him?”

“He and I have been meeting regularly over the past few months,” he told her. “We are- er…” He paused. He couldn’t call Mikleo his friend, because surely their bond ran much more deeply than that. However, he wasn’t sure exactly how else to describe it.

In any case, the deity didn’t seem to mind. “That is surprising. But you seem to care a lot about him - he wouldn’t let you visit regularly if he didn’t feel the same way.”

“You know him?” Sorey asked.

“Yes, we have met a few times,” she said. “He truly is a kind boy. I’m glad he has found someone he trusts.”

Sorey smiled. “As am I.”

Smiling, the deity stood and moved down from the altar to stand before Sorey. She was almost as tall as him, even though the heels didn’t seem to put too much height on her. “I shall bestow this blessing both as a favour and as gratitude for your care towards Mikleo.”

“Thank you- er-”

“Lailah,” she said with an amused smile.

“Lailah,” Sorey repeated. “Thank you.”

“It is quite alright. Now close your eyes.”

Sorey did so. A moment later, he felt Lailah press her forehead against Sorey’s, and a gentle warmth enveloped him, like a candle, burning without causing destruction. When she stepped away, the warmth remained a few moments before fading, but he felt infinitely calmer, and his worries for his mother felt lesser.

“I wish you and your mother all the best,” she said. “But how do you plan on reaching her?”

“I think there may be another path to Rolance,” Sorey said. “I’ve heard of there being one before, though I’m not sure where it might be.”

Lailah looked slightly troubled, though she changed her expression to a smile before Sorey could question it. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. Good luck.”

Thanking her once more, Sorey took his leave from the Sanctuary.

That night, in a haze of dreams, Sorey saw the path. Before him stood a darkened, twisting forest, leading to a field filled with light and warmth. Mountains surrounded the area, but within them he could see a path, burning within age-old ruins. This, he knew, would be how he would reach Rolance.

Upon awakening, he could not recall the phantom pressure of a cold hand pressed against his forehead, crafting a vision for him to follow into the darkness.

And so, the next morning, he wasted no time in collecting his belongings, leaving some gald on the counter of the inn, and heading north once more - this time following the river towards the Forest of No Return.

The Forest of No Return was so-called due to the rumours of the many people who had entered the forest, only to never be seen again. Its official name lay hidden in the depths of history, and as much as Sorey may usually have loved researching it, he had more pressing matters at hand. Luckily, his map had the forest marked on it already. Ignoring the niggling feeling creeping inside his gut, he focused on the sight of the treetops thickening in the distance.

If going through this forest would be his only chance of helping his mother, he would be the first to make it out alive. This, he was determined of.

A mist grew thicker with each step he took toward the forest, masking the reality of the world around him. Through it, all colours were reduced to monochrome, but Sorey could not tell for the thickness of the fog. By the time he reached the forest’s mouth, he could barely see the trees directly in front of him. The hairs on his arms stood to attention, hackles raised at the feeling of being watched, of walking into something he was not strong enough to face.

Yet, he continued walking, right into the forest’s depths. Sorey himself couldn’t explain why - going against his gut instincts was never something he felt to be a good idea, but perhaps his determination to save his mother clouded his vision more than the mist around him.

The Forest of No Return lived up to the suspense of its name. Each tree he past twisted with gnarled roots, the creases of the wood leering at him. Dark leaves hung over him, blocking out what little light there may once have been. Leaves and twigs snapped under his boots. In the distance, he heard a crack.

He gulped, and continued walking.

Time passed without him in the forest, passing him by much quicker than he could perceive until suddenly he was entirely blind. All he knew was the pain in his feet and his stomach, the silence surrounding him, the feeling he could not shake.

As much as he wanted to be out of this forest, he would need to wait until sunrise.

Carefully, he climbed into the bough of a tree, reassuring himself that this would at least be safer than allowing forest animals to attack him with his guards down. He dug through his bag, searching for nourishment, but the lack of light only made his search come up short.

Resigned to a night of hunger, Sorey tried to make himself comfortable, closing his eyes and allowing only thoughts of those he loved come to mind: his mother, fit and healthy, smiling at him in their warm family home; Mikleo, eyes bright with happiness upon his return, holding him close once more.

Somehow, he managed to fall asleep.

Somehow, he stayed asleep, even as the war drums of thunder beckoned forth the gods of lightning.

Somehow, Sorey did not awaken.

[aveyondwinterexchange]

BlackPrincess from the Aveyond Kingdom forum’s gift for Rosetyler aka @rhendarzon!

A White Surprise

Part 1

White. Everything’s white. White snow. Its cold. I’m cold. But still its beautiful. How funny. Sitting in a cold room, shivering, yet, looking at the snow, I can’ help thinking its beautiful. It really is funny……

“Rhen, wake up.”

“Mmmm, 5 minutes more, Pa.”

“Rhen, get up. It’s Dameon.”

Rhen’s eyes shot open,”Huh what? Did I sleep in?” She looked outside her window.”But, its still dark outside.”

“Rhen, that’s….”

“Wait,” she got up and moved to the window. “Why’s there water on the window.” She wiped it and was shocked to see….What? Why’s everything white? Snow? But  we  were in Sedona!”

“Rhen, we’re still in Sedona. It’s Christmas.”

“Christmas?”

“Yes, that’s why I came in early to wish you.”

“But everything was normal just yesterday!”

“Yes, that’s the specialty of Christmas in Sedona. Just before the day it gets covered in white.”

“Already planning on going out you two.”

Rhen and Dameon turned to see the speaker leaning on the door.

“Lars, I was getting her to come down.” Dameon responsed calmly.

“Yeah sure, you do that cause everyone’s waiting for someone.” Lars rolled his eyes and went down.

“Rhen, why don’t you come down and join us?”

“Hmm? Yeah, you go ahead.”

Dameon nodded and left the room.

“Christmas, huh?” her thoughts drifted in the white city.  

“You know about Christmas?” Lars raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I do. You are amusing human.” Te’ijal chuckled.

“What happens in Ghed’ahre then? Red snow and Blood tree?”

“Your imagination is very amusing.” The vampress laughed.

“I’m intrigued, vampress. What do you do?” Elini asked.

“Well, nothing special just hunt down some food and decorate the tree with the remainings. It looks like the dolls in yours just a bit livelier.”

“………”

“Did she just say they decorate the tree with the corpses?” Lars whispered to Elini. She only shrugged.

The party were playing cards at the dining table while sharing they’re experiences.

“Elini, you live in the desert which means you have a ‘hot’ Christmas? It must be comforting than this shivering cold.”

“True, sorcerer. But I find the snow quite interesting.”

“What about the tree if there is any?”

“Of course we have our tree, how idiotic. We make a special one.”

“Special one?”

“A tree made of sand.”

“…………”

“What? It’s interesting when you see it. Well, sometimes the huge amount of sand does result in a sandstorm. But then again, its interesting to see people scattering around from the top of your tower.” She laughed.

“Ya’re the only one who could find that amusing, crazy woman.” The pirate said.

“And what about you then, darling?”

“Huh, mine’s something like ya’ve na’er seen,” John stated.

“Yeah sure,” Lars rolled his eyes.

“Such days are good for the business, specially the merchant ships.”

“You steal? Isn’t that against the ‘Christmas spirit’ or something?”

“Nay! We do show mercy on this day, letting them have their dress. And then we have a blast at the sea. Ah, you na’er now the fun in the sea.”

“Does that mean normally you take their clothes too?”

“Ya, everything belongs to a pirate wance he has his eyes on it.”

“Hmm well, that’s true,”Elini purred closing the minimal distance between them.

“Watch it, crazy woman!”

“I’m curious to know how you celebrate it, crumpet?”

“I do not owe you any explanation, demon spawn!” Galahad said in his usual attitude. “But since everyone is sharing I may as well participate.”

“Seriously, cut the lecture and get started already.”

“Patience, boy. It is not good for a young boy to be always on temper.”

“I’m not a-“

“As I was saying, there is nothing noble than to serve my kingdom as a gallant knight.”

“So, you do the same thing as you do everyday?” Elini asked

“Well, I do extra rounds of the city and ensure that every citizen is safe, that is how I spend the noble day in a noble way.”

“as expected.” Lars sighed.

“this drink is quite good, miss Marge.” Dameon said.

“It’s called eggnog. But I suppose ‘The Priest’ doesn’t have time for such things.” Lars said having his drink.

“And of course you have the right to decide about everything about everyone,” Rhen said sarcastically.

“So, ‘she’ finally speaks to defend her knight.”

“Rhen, you’ve been quite this evening. Is something bothering you?” Dameon asked ignoring Lars.

“Yes, Swordsinger that is true. You are not even doing your usual bickering with the sorcerer. I was missing it.”

“I don’t bick-“

“That’s why the human’s winning,: Te’ijal said cutting off Lars.

Everyone noticed then noticed that with the flow of their conversation, they gave the wrong cards.

“It seems that its just the Sorcerer and the Swordsinger then.”

“That’s not fair! This is my game and I’m supposed to win!”

“Calm down, pirate. Enjoy the fiddling of these two with me.”

“You’ve been winning because the others weren’t paying attention. You’re never going to  win against me.”

“Says who, the idiotic snob.”

“If you’re so confident then let’s make it  a challenge. The loser has to do whatever the winners says till the next morning.”

“Fine then.”

After ten minutes…………

“Told you I would win.”

“But, how did this happen……”

“Huh! You should learn from the master. According to the condition you have to do whatever I say.” Lars grinned.

“Whatever……what do you want me to do then?”

“Not here. Lets go outside.” Saying so Lars took her out of the manson.

“The fun’s over I guess. Let’s do something ourselves too, John.”

“As if I’d agree.”

A White Surprise

Part 2

“What do you want now?”

“Just keep walking.”

“Yeah right, it’s cold out.”

“Why were you so quiet back in?”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t say what you did?”

“Oh you want to what’s Christmas is like to me? Fine then. I used to be so happy when I saw the snow out of my room in my village. I’d have snowball fight with my friends, make snowman with Pa, Ma’s cakes; everything was so special to me. But then suddenly I became a slave and it ended. After that, Christmas meant cold days locked in a room to me. I didn’t have anything to wear or eat or do anything I did. I could only stare at kids by my window. I felt so lost and lonely because of-”

“Me?”

“I……” Rhen stared at him.

“It’s okay, you can say it. let it out. It’ll be good.”

“Lars, I-“

“Well, we’re here.”

Rhen looked at the tall building before them. “We go in?”

“No, we go up.”

Saying so Lars teleported them on the roof.

“Ahh, you could’ve at least warned me. Don’t just suddenly poof us anywhere.”

“Sorry,” Lars chuckled.

“So, what do we do now?”

“Sit, there’s something I want you to see.”

“Huh? Ok.”

“Rhen, when I apologized to you, I did it sincerely. Do you believe that.”

“umm…… I do.”

“You should. I was, I am serious. I know I hurt you a lot of times that I can’t change. But I do want to mend what we have.

“Lars?”

“So, here.” He pushed an object in her hand.

“What’s this? A gift? For me?”

“It is Christmas, after all.”

Being curious she unwrapped it to find a beautiful silver mirror.

“A mirror? And what am I supposed to do with it?”

“Did you actually think I’d give you an ordinary mirror?”

“Then what does it do?”

“Close your eyes and think of the person you want to see.”

She did as was told.

“Now open them.”

Upon  opening her eyes, she saw her parents in the mirror. “What?”

“It’s a mirror that lets you see the person you want to no matter wherever they are. Of course that person has to be someone you interacted with.”

She wasn’t paying attention to him as she was busy watching her beloved parents with eyes full of emotions.

“Careful, you wouldn’t want to let an idiotic snob to see you cry.”

“I’m not crying, you idiot. What’s that?” Rhen pointed to the sky where colorful patterns started to appear. “Fireworks? But they are not coming  from the ground. Wait, are you?”

“hey, I wanted to see the fireworks but it got cancelled. How stupid. So, I made my own. They should be thankful to me.”

“Yeah right,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“I guess it is.” She smiled looking at the colorful night sky. “oh look, its snowing.”

“……its getting cold. Lets go back. I’m going to teleport us just so you know.”

“Yeah……” Rhen replied.

They were back on the ground, walking towards he mansion.

“Lars?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for the gift.”

“You do know that it means you owe me one.”

“I guess I do then.”

“Well, then you’re allowed to serve me tomorrow as well, consider it a bonus.”

“Lars,” Rhen came in front him from his side. “Is that really what you want?” she spoke leaning closer to him.

“What are-” Lars started but got caught up by those amethyst pools, coming closer and closer. He was breathing in her breath. A mix of mauves and oranges fooled his vision. A soft warmth brushing against his lips.

“You really think I’m that dense?” Rhen whispered in his ear and placed another soft kiss on his cheek. She twirled and walked away. Looking over her shoulder, she watched as Lars slowly touched the recently wounded area, still dazed. She smiled with a blush and hurried back.

“Crumpet, I’ve brought a gift for you.” Te’ijal said to Galahad in a singsong voice.

“I will not fall for your evil schemes, demon spawn!”

“Trust me, it’s something you always wanted. Look,” she swayed the soul pendant in front of him.

“You are giving it to me?” He took it, still confused. “You are returning my soul to me?! The gods have finally lighted your senses.”

“Who said anything about returning your soul? I’m just giving you the pendant you wanted me to give you back.”

“What games are you playing at?”

“I just happened to stroll around the market where I found a witch selling some quite interesting collection of spells. Among which caught my attention was a ‘soul binding spell’. Now, our souls are eternally binded together and I don’t need a pendant. So, I thought of giving it to you.”

As soon as Te’ijal finished, Galahad landed on the couch, unconscious.

“It seems he couldn’t contain the joy, how amusing.”

“ ‘joy’, huh. He sure did.” Elini commented. “Where are you headed at this time, Sun Priest?”

“Don’t you think they’re taking too long? I’m going to look for them.” As he touched the door handle, he was pulled backward by a force.

“Sorry, Priest. But unfortunately for you, I’m going to have them they’re time.” Saying so she finished her remaining job.

“You are one particular amusing human.” Te’ijal grinned watching her.

“I know, right?”

Just then, Rhen entered the house.

“Well well, back from your small trip, eh?”

“What is that on your head, human?” ”Huh?” ”Let me see,” Elini got it out from her hair. “You might not recognize this. It’s mistletoe. These have special attraction here on this occasion, specially among young people. Am I not right swordsinger?”

“Ah well…….”

“But the question is how did it end up on you. Have you been experimenting the little tales, I presume.”

“You look quite strange, human. Your face is going red.”

Realizing Elini’s indications, Rhen went up to her room, abashed.

“Ah, young love,” John mused.

“You sound like an old man.”

“Well I-“ he was interrupted by Lars’ arrival, more like slopping.

“How did things go?” Elini inquired, being the only one to know about Lars’ plan.

“… I need something from the storage room,” ignoring Elini’s question, Lars opened the door.

“Human, wait!” What the!” and it was too late. He slammed the door as soon as he saw, “Elini, care to explain, why a red demon has gagged Dameon and holding him?”

“To avoid unnecessary interruptions.” She shrugged. “You should be thankful to me, boy.”

Lars stared at her for a few seconds and sighed, a smirk crept upon his face. “well, it was one heck of a Christmas.”

[jotawakening-blog]

29 Fentuary, 5A 169: A Swathe Through Asgarnia

I begin the day with a breakfast of freshly caught cod, then get going on the business that brought me here to Port Sarim: catching the ferry to Entrana to learn all I can about the whereabouts of the Holy Grail.  Of course, Entrana has strict policies on weapons, so before I board the boat, I use the deposit box conveniently located nearby to stow away my combat gear.

Once the ferry lands, I head straight for the basilica, and ask the High Priest there whether he knows anything of the Grail.  He does, it would seem: it did pass through the island some time ago.  However, it’s not here any more, and he doesn’t care enough to tell me where it went.  Just as I’m about to get on my way, to look around the island myself, an old crone who overheard my conversation with the High Priest pulls me aside, and tells me that if I’m in search of the grail, I’d best hurry: ‘A fisher king is in pain’.  Perplexed, I bid her explain, and she does, as best she can.  Apparently, the Grail has found its final resting place in the realm of someone called the Fisher King.  This realm is a pocket plane adjacent to ours, which can be entered at a point where the boundary between the planes is weakest, by blowing a magic whistle there.  This spot is marked by six great stone heads, whose gaze converges on the correct location.  Ah!  I think I know what heads she means!  But, I ask, who is the Fisher King?  She has little to say on this, only that he is ‘the owner and slave of the grail’.  I guess I shall have to find out myself.  As for the whistle: I can find it in a haunted manor in Misthalin (almost certainly Draynor Manor), but only if I’m carrying something from the Fisher King’s realm.  Hm, I guess the tablecloth Brother Galahad gave me might work?  Anyway, I doubt I’ll be able to find out any more here, so it’s probably time I left Entrana and got on with my adventures in the Eastern Kingdoms.

So I get not he boat and take it back to the mainland.  My plan now is to go down to Mudskipper Point and see what my old friend Thurgo can do to fix King Alvis’ ancient axe.  For this, I obviously need the axe, so I head up to Falador to retrieve it from the bank and get geared up again.  Also, I take out my catspeak amulet: assuming that Bob’s still wandering the world instead of staying at home, I may be able to track him down around here.  For the same reasons, I withdraw the enchanted key.  It’s noticeably warmer here than in Kandarin or on Karamja, but not warm enough to indicate treasure anywhere nearby.

In any event, I take the axe to Thurgo and explain that I need it restored.  Thurgo, naturally, takes an interest in the weapon, and asks me where, exactly, I might have gotten it.  I tell him it’s from Keldagrim, but spare him the embarrassing details of how I came by it.  Thurgo nods.  ‘We have not been to Keldagrim for a long time’, he says.  I ask him what he means by ‘we’— could there be more Imcando dwarves in hiding someplace?— but he claims it was a slip of the tongue and moves on to the details of the repair.  All he will need, he tells me, is an iron bar.  Okay, that’s very easy to procure.  I tell Thurgo I’ll be right back and go back up to Falador to fetch one from the bank.  Once I’ve got it, I return south using Remora’s pendant to save me a bit of time and hand the axe back to Thurgo, who fixes the corroded parts in very good time.  Like he said, the damage wasn’t as extensive as it appeared.  Thank you, Thurgo!

Okay, that’s one step closer toward the restoration of the statue… but getting the axe fixed was just one small item on the long list of tasks demanding my attention out here in the east.  My next moves shall be to the north of Falador, where I’ll be hunting for Bob, catching a scorpion, and deliver the compromise meal to Mudknuckles at the goblin village so that maybe, just maybe, I can free the Goblin Generals from the culinaromancer’s time snarl.

I find Bob by the moat of Falador Castle, thanks to the enchantment on the amulet, but he’s not too communicative.  He tells me he’d like to speak with another cat, and asks why I keep Minou in the care of the Bank of Gielinor.  This leads to a rather odd discussion in which Bb tries to convince me that cats are easily as hardy as sheep, and, indeed, were the second species brought over to Gielinor by Guthix.  That’s not what we were taught in school (what about the dwarves and gnomes?), but who knows?  Maybe cats really do have some insight there.

Anyway, I go to the bank once more and get Minou to come meet Bob with me.  This time, I let Minou explain the problem: while Bob has been wandering the world, Unferth has been missing him!  It turns out he hasn’t been home because he’s madly in love with a cat named Neite, all the way in Sophanem.  The problem is that Neite, while she has feelings for him, refuses to get into a relationship with a cat of no status.  Minou, ever practical, asks whether he knows who his parents were, but he doesn’t: he was abandoned at a young age and left on Gertrude’s doorstep, over by Varrock. In his earliest memories, it’s Gertrude who’s caring for him.  Minou comes up with the idea of visiting Gertrude and asking her what she knows about Bob’s origins.  As much as I’m not happy about playing matchmaker between two cats living almost a continent’s length away from each other, I guess I am kind of committed at this point, and might as well, seeing as Gertrude doesn’t live that far out of the way from the Grand Exchange, after all.

First things first, though: I need to deliver the rather unpalatable melange of ingredients I’ve collected to the Goblin Village kitchen.  The place, it turns out, is still in as bad a shape as it was when the cauldron exploded, but it seems that Mudknuckles likes it that way: he keeps collecting new ‘data’ and ‘results’ from the walls and ceiling, and fantasising about new culinary experiments.  I hand him the ingredients, which he beats into a sort of grey pulpy mush and hands to me, with the disclaimer that he can’t vouch for the idea working because the instructions from the generals made no sense.  (Even my choice of ingredients doesn’t reassure him.)  Well, I guess it’s better than nothing, right?  I’ll give it a go when next I’m in Lumbridge, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll see if I can’t think of something else.

Okay, next up: catching scorpions.  The seer back at Seers’ Village claims to have seen them both nearby, one at the monastery and one in a shop in Gunnarsgrunn.  I have my scorpion cage with me, and grab a holy symbol so I’ll be let into the monastery, which I make my first stop.  Once there, I first look around for the scorpion in the public areas, then, not finding it there, try to head up into the monks’ quarters.  As I try to climb the stairs, a monks stops me and tells me the obvious: that this area of the monastery is for monks only.  So I ask him if I can join the order, and to my surprise, he inducts me on the spot!  All I had to do was ask!  It seems that word of my exploits (the re-purification of the Salve, perhaps?) has spread further than I was expecting!

With the monk’s blessing, I head up to the private quarters, where I find a robe laid out for me.  More excitingly, I hear the scorpion skittering around!  Deftly, I track it down and trap it in my cage without having the other one run off, as well.  That leaves just one more, which I think I can get presently!  Before I leave, I pull over a monk to bless for some holy symbols that I brought for this purpose.  He does so, infusing the energies of Saradomin into them and thereby transforming them from moulded silver stars into talismans with the power to ward off evil!  Now, of course, I can sell them for a bit of profit.

There’s still plenty of daylight left, so: on to the next scorpion, this one in Gunnarsgrunn.  Or so the seer said: unfortunately, the delay between my talking to him and my arrival at the barbarians’ village proves, this time, to be telling.  Peksa, the owner of the helmet shop, admits to having had the scorpion in his possession when I ask him about it.  Unfortunately, he no longer does: he gave it away to his brother Iwor, who lives all the way out in the outpost by Baxtorian Falls.  (And by ‘gave it away’, he means ‘left it in his room so it would sting him’.)  Well, that’s disappointing, but I’ll keep an eye out for it the next time I’m there, assuming Iwor doesn’t squish it first!

But that’s a task for the future.  For now, given how close I am to Varrock, I’ve got other things on my mind: first of all, trading at the Grand Exchange, and then seeing what Gertrude knows about Bob.  And so, after consigning my pile of accumulated loot to a broker, I visit Gertrude for a spot of late-afternoon tea and a chat about cats.  Gertrude is pleased to see me— and Minou— looking happy and healthy.  Gertrude is happy to talk, as long as it’s not about death runes— she’s been hearing terrible rumours, and…

I assure her that it’s not about that, and that I came to her because of a cat she adopted some time ago.  Gertrude remembers Bob, but tells me she doesn’t know anything about his parentage: he was left on her doorstep by some locals, and she took care of him until he could take care of himself.  At some point, Minou loses patience with Gertrude’s anecdotes about Bob and yowls at me to demand Gertrude tell me what she knows.  (It’s quite a scene: I threaten Minou with amputation, Minou threatens me with a clawing, and I’m basically forced to get to the point.)  Gertrude’s memory still isn’t jogged, but Minou has an idea: is there a chance that Bob has some connection to the legend of Robert the Strong?  I must confess I’ve never heard that legend, so I ask Gertrude if she can tell it.  Much to Minou’s disdain, though, she doesn’t know it either, and suggests that I go speak to Reldo: if there’s anyone who knows it, it’ll be him.  Good idea!

Before I go, Gertrude tells me there’s something else I should know— some people I should meet are in town.  They’re rat catchers, she says, and they live in the sewers: she knows this because she had to drag her two eldest sons out of there recently.  (Yuck!)  Well, it’s another not-half-bad idea, since I’m already here.  But first, I return to the Exchange and begin to go down my long shopping list, purchasing a new talisman for runecrafting, this one imbued with cosmic energy, an adamantite hatchet to help me chop down trees more efficiently, and, perhaps most excitingly, a mithril, crossbow-fired grappling hook. with which I might just be able to create paths for myself in areas where there are none, like over walls and stuff!  Should be fun to try it out.

The last thing I do before nightfall is visit Reldo at the Varrock Palace library and ask him about Robert the Strong.  This is a figure Reldo is familiar with from some old histories of the Fourth Age, but he has to look it up: he doesn’t know the details off-hand.  In the books, it seems that Robert is known as a hero of Misthalin, taller than the tallest man and stronger than the strongest warrior.  He is said to carry a six-foot longbow and have as his pet a panther named Odysseus, and to be involved in a crusade against the dragonkin.  The book explains what these are: a race of tall, avian, immortal humanoids, who do not use their wings and cannot reproduce.  Because of their lack of breeding capacity, they shunned other races, and created debased versions of themselves to protect them: the creatures we now know as dragons.  Now, the information on this subject is old and unreliable, but Reldo believes there is a grain of truth in such folk-tales, waiting to be discovered.

Okay, that’s nice and all, I tell Minou, but how does that help us?  Minou seems to think, on the basis of the flimsiest of evidence (no one seems to know where Bob came from, based on the grand total of one person we’ve asked), that Bob may actually be Robert the Strong.  Um, what?  That’s so illogical as to beggar belief, but… Minou’s been right about things before, and when next I cross paths with Bob, I suppose I’ll ask him about it.  Most likely, he’ll agree that it’s a ridiculous theory and we’ll be back to square one.

Anyway, it will be nice to see Dororan and Gudrun again and sleep in a proper bed, and I can worry about this and everything else tomorrow.