Chapter 123
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Chapter 122
Darcy nearly falls off the ceiling with giggling when John has the right idea about which puppy most likely has the best instincts for digging up the toy. But he forgot that Timber also has a bad habit of not wanting to do anything alone and a bunch of siblings who stick around his oversize paws most times.
So yes, that sandbox turns into an explosion when, instead of one puppy, five try to see who can spray the sand the furthest. And yes, of course her Sang du Coeur ducks behind cover at dhampir speed (although that’s pretty slow with him she has to say,) while John is just grunting at being pelted with earth and trying to pluck the interlopers back up.
“If you two think I’m coming to help, you can keep wishing!”
Even while she can hear Quincy fib at Arthur trying to help John through his own laughing, she sees that he’s leaning out from behind his cover and testing if shaking the treat bag might get some of the puppies to abandon the digging.
After the three of them have solved that little unplanned challenge (yes, with Quincy huffing mightily at having to actually hold some puppies,) the other obstacles are easier. Rusty even gets an impressed “You are a good boy!” out of Quincy when John only has to click his tongue once at Rusty getting distracted with having found an interesting corner in the maze.
Not that Darcy questioned that, she did pre-train the puppies a little bit last night so they are eager to bring the toys, but still, seeing the three men work together, laugh together, and each of them smiling up at her occasionally gives her a warm, fuzzy feeling. It’s not just happiness because she’s being good for them, although that one is so big that she thinks her fur must be even redder with how warm that glow is. But no, there’s something more to it, something she doesn’t quite understand, it’s accomplishment and fulfilment and just sheer contentedness, all together, intermingled, and she hopes today never ends.
But of course, even though it takes a few hours (and coaxing Dandelion out of the little tunnel with a lot of encouragement), eventually they get every last puppy onto the final platform and Darcy grins widely when she hears the scale mechanism underneath it click, lifting its sister platform up and revealing the box with the next clue.
~~~~
“Oh, that is so cool!” Arthur says- he did not expect a full mechanism like that! He wonders how exactly it works, and how they built it. Maybe the house helped? But anyway, the keys they fished out of the toys, or, in one case, Rusty chewed out of the toy, (much to Quincy’s disgust at puppy slobber on it,) unlock the box and present them with their next clue, which is the first one that has them stumped for a bit: “Soldier, don thy magic cape and follow where twelve princesses dance their shoes to pieces each night, follow where trees carry twigs of silver, gold, and diamond, follow where no prince could follow.”
Whatever story or fairy tale it references, Arthur has to admit that he doesn’t know it, and John and Quincy also aren’t sure. Since it mentions trees, they decide to make a circle around the castle while they’re outside anyway and look if they can see any precious metal ones. There don’t seem to be any, however, by the time they arrive back at the kitchen door.
Darcy is walking along with them, and looks like she has to try very, very hard not to tell them the solution. Of course, they could go to the library and try and find a fairy tale book with the right story in it.
Then Quincy quips at Darcy: “Do you have another magical queendom you haven’t showed me yet?” and Arthur thinks: …wait, and also says: “Wait… another magical queendom? Like… a magical place? Like the nexus?” He doesn’t know whether that’s what the fairy tale is about, but it does sound like that could fit.
~~~~
Darcy bounces and claps her hands, then realises that she wasn’t supposed to give it away when they guess right and tries to pretend she didn’t just do that.
~~~~
Arthur can’t help but laugh, and neither can John and Quincy, clearly, because Darcy’s poker face is truly awful. “I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’.”
So they head off into the castle and down to the nexus. Well, not into the nexus, actually, they find a golden cup in front of the nexus door, and this time, the riddle is pretty easy again: ‘When you stroke my long hair I will whisper, when you pull it I will sing.’
“String instrument!” Arthur concludes.
“Harp,” John agrees and narrows down, and yes, Arthur has heard Darcy play the harp before.
Indeed, they find a small package in a striped fabric hanging from the harp in the music room, with the clue: ‘Bricklebrit to the donkey, out of the sack to the cudgel, and cover thyself to…’
Arthur shares a confused look with Quincy, but John reads it over with a frown of concentration, then looks around the room- at a bare side table. He shrugs, marches over, and tells it: “Cover thyself!” And the table does. It also grows, and a tablecloth appears, and cutlery and dishes and everything, and Darcy claps in delight and gives John a brief hug, announces: “Lunch time!”
Arthur has to admit he’s hungry after playing with the puppies for hours, coaxing them through the obstacle course- puppies don’t have much of an attention span, really, so that was anything but efficient. But fun either way. Darcy runs to fetch everyone, and then plays the harp for them while they eat. Which is… really nice, actually.
Though then once he’s finished his own food, Dr Seward starts singing along with Darcy’s playing, and then Mrs Harker moves over to the piano and joins, too, and… and Arthur really doesn’t know anything much about music at all, but it sounds really pretty. He’s very glad nobody’s expecting him to sing, though. Especially not what he’s pretty sure is French. But Darcy claps all excitedly once they finish, and the table reverts back to its former self once Art and Arthur finish their last sandwiches.
Quincy gives up on trying to get John to dance with him to the music- not that John seemed inclined to move a single muscle or give him more than a withering look and a grunt. Their next clue appears as a sheet of paper on the table, and he picks it up and shoves it at Quincy with a: “Make yourself useful, Molly.”
Of course, Quincy takes that as an excuse to clear his throat and declare grandly: “I bring the gifts of Lucifer and Prometheus, my many tongues make what once lived and breathed glow one last time before there shall be dust to dust, and…”
“Ashes to ashes?” Arthur completes. “Fire? A fireplace?”
“Biggest one is in the great hall,” John says with a nod.
Darcy, after giving her Papa a quick hug for singing with her, and then Art one to not leave him out (her words), joins them on their way back downstairs.
The fireplace in question has coals smouldering in it, which is all the hint Arthur needs that it’s the right one- this one isn’t usually lit. He nudges his defences to the physical side of things with a thought and plunges his hand into the heart of the dying fire, triumphantly comes up with a piece of paper that’s a lot less singed than it should be- and then registers Quincy’s yelp, and finds himself and his hand fussed over, inspected for any damage.
John chuckles and punches him on the shoulder with an approving grin while Arthur assures Quincy that he’s fine, see, he has this magical protection amulet on his left here.
The next hint sends them rhyming the request for the next clue to a mirror (Quincy gets to, even though he complains he’s an actor, not a poet), and the mirror’s reply of: “Inside our wooden cages we trap friend and foe alike. They can only be freed inside your mind,” has Arthur blurt: “Books!” because that is just obvious.
“Bookshelves?” John ventures, and Arthur considers, then says that no, he thinks the ‘wooden cages’ refer to book covers, which used to be made with wood, and the ‘freed inside your mind’ sounds like reading to him.
Quincy huffs at both of them and points out that it doesn’t really matter, either way it’s clearly the library.
They find Mrs Harker waiting for them there, with another, much more elaborate game. It’s a crossword, but instead of just being given clues, they have to hunt down the letters for the answers in the library books, across several languages and genres.
Since Arthur likes crosswords but is usually done with them in no time at all, he really enjoys that extra layer of challenge.
Quincy grumbles that this is far too much like work, but Mrs Harker keeps telling him “well done” whenever he figures a line out, and apparently that works to keep him going.
And Arthur thinks John has fun, even if he doesn’t say anything one way or another. He definitely volunteers for all the climbing up on the ladders to fetch books from the higher shelves, and carrying them to and fro.
In the end, it takes them long enough that the afternoon light is starting to wane and they have to light the first candles to finish. This time, they don’t only get their next clue, but also a letter that equals a number. Arthur doesn’t know what that’s for, but he assumes some kind of final riddle, so he notes it down.
John, meanwhile, reads the next clue and snorts- shows it to Quincy, who also snickers. Arthur gives them a questioning look, and Quincy tells him: “I think that one might be a bit too rowdy for you, honey.”
A rowdy clue? Maybe Arthur doesn’t want to know, in that case… though he is also kind of curious, and it’s a riddle…
“Don’t worry about it,” John tells him. “I know what that is.”
“Oh?” Quincy asks him, and waggles his eyebrows and grins in a way that tells Arthur that yes, the joke might be too rowdy for him.
John, though, only snorts and smacks Quincy’s shoulder. “It’s a gun, you pervert.”
“How boring. Trust you manly man to know that, I suppose,” Quincy retorts, while John leads them off to a room Arthur only remembers as the weapons room from when they were looking for a gift for the duchess when they step inside.
John strides right up to a particular gun mounted on the walls. “Brown Bess,” he says, like that’s an explanation.
Arthur assumes that’s the name of the gun, and something that refers to the riddle. It’s correct, anyway, because they find the next clue in the front of the barrel: ‘In a noble house we are never seen but always present, we hear but do not speak. In this house we are gone but not missed.’
They all agree that that has to be servants, but then they’re left with figuring out where the servant quarters even are supposed to be in the castle. Usually upstairs, Arthur thinks, so that’s where they go.
They do find the servant’s corridor, and find it patrolled by two dark shapes. Art and Mr Basarab – Vlad – on second glance.
Darcy grins and stops them from approaching, points to the key dangling very obviously from Art’s belt. It’s got a piece of paper wrapped around it, too. That’s their goal, get it without getting caught!
Arthur gives her a dubious look for that. Mr Basarab, Vlad, is, after all, a powerful vampire, there’s no way he hasn’t already noticed them approach. But okay, it’s a game, so probably he’ll pretend as long as they’re not too obvious.
There isn’t a huge lot of cover in the corridor, so Arthur waves John and Quincy further down to strategize. He can sneak, and the corridor isn’t brightly lit, but he’s still going to need a distraction.
John grunts and points at Quincy, and says: “Molly’s plenty distracting.”
Of course, Quincy flutters his eyelashes at him. “Why, thank you, Blondie. Not so bad yourself.”
John gives a snort of disgust, and Arthur swallows a laugh. “How about you go be distracting like that in front of Art and Mr Basarab?”
So they do. And it actually works! Obviously, Vlad and Art should be expecting all of them, but John and Quincy bicker loudly, and somehow draw the adults into it, too, while Arthur eases himself down the corridor from one that runs parallel. The carpet up here is thinner and less luxurious than downstairs, but it’s still in good shape, maybe thanks to the house spirit, and muffles his footsteps easily. He keeps to the shadows between the sparse lights, crouches behind a side table for a moment to make sure Art’s attention is firmly on John and Quincy, and then gently, gently eases the key off of its hook. Put there in a very steal-able fashion, which is good, because Arthur’s pick-pocketing skills are mediocre.
Mission accomplished, he eases back, back down the corridor, ducks into the parallel one and finds himself grinning as he makes his way back the official way. “Got it!” he announces and waves the key. John and Quincy break off their distraction offensive, and Art looks genuinely startled when he sees the key in Arthur’s fingers, pats his hand over the spot where it was, then laughs.
“May I recommend that you leave the perceptiveness to your wife, hunter?” Vlad grins at Art before nodding at Arthur. “Well done, young scholar, or should I say, sneak? Off with you to nobler ventures.” Before he lets them go, however, he reaches into his pocket and hands Arthur another clue, well, not a clue, another number equalling a letter.
Arthur feels unexpectedly pleased with the praise, and unrolls the note to hide his blush. It leads them to the trophy room, which unlocks with the key, and is another room Arthur didn’t even know existed in the castle. It’s definitely not his favourite, because while the stuffed animals and antlers and things are interesting, he feels sorry for the animals.
In the mouth of the stuffed lion, they find the easiest riddle yet, as far as Arthur’s concerned: ‘I braved alpine snows only to turn away from the walls of the Eternal City, yet for centuries they cried in fear: “… at portas!”’
Which is, obviously: “Hannibal!” Somehow, Arthur very much likes that Darcy included his horse in the treasure hunt, and he gives her a bright smile for it.
“Of course I had to include your friend!” She smiles right back at him and squeezes his hand for a moment.
“Thank you!” he says, and squeezes her hand in return.
They find the stable covered in rose petals, and Hannibal looking distinctly amused. Arthur goes over to pet him and inspect him and his stall for any hints, but doesn’t see anything unusual there- just the rose petals covering the aisle and the empty stalls in a solid layer.
“Okay, any hints?”
Hannibal gives Darcy a mischievous look, lowers his head, and snorts out a breath that sends a patch of rose petals flying from in front of his stall door.
“Thank you!” Arthur tells him, and crouches down to shift the rose petals to the side to search for anything hidden underneath them.
Quincy followed him inside the stable and is looking around, while John hovers by the entrance and starts moving petals aside with his boot, hands stuck in his pockets.
Arthur is distracted by Hannibal snuffling into his hair and against the back of his neck, teasing, when there’s a scrape from the entrance and John bends down to lift out a wooden plaque.
“This it?” he asks, while Arthur is busy shoving Hannibal off of himself/petting him with a snicker- that tickled!
“‘Tread not on us as you run after your lover to hide in darkest green and shadows,'” John reads out loud, and Arthur looks down at the crushed rose petals where he was walking. “Oops?”
“Bit hard to avoid,” Quincy comments. “And that’s obviously the hedge maze.”
“…It is?” Arthur asks, confused.
Quincy winks at him. “Trust me, honey, it is.”
Arthur pets Hannibal good-bye, and tries to not crush any more rose petals on his way back out the stables.
The hedge maze isn’t very far away, but there’s an odd shape in front of it. A big shape. A big shape that unfolds into a long neck, and wings tucked in, and four legs, and scales shimmering in the light of the rising moon.
Arthur feels his eyes widen, breathes an: “Ooooh!”
Because that’s a dragon. A real dragon! He has no idea where the real dragon comes from, or whether it’s an illusion, but it looks very solid, and he can’t help but rush forward, while behind him he thinks John says an impressed: “Shit.”
“Hello,” Arthur offers when he’s about a dozen yards or so from the dragon. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but he thinks it’s purple, and it has big, white, spiralling horns and a fierce-looking mane along the crest of its head and neck. And of course a long, narrow snout full of teeth, he sees, when it opens its mouth a little.
The voice he hears in his mind, though, is amused and familiar. “Hello, Arthur-sweetie.”
Arthur blinks. “Lucy? You can turn into a dragon? That’s amazing!” He feels almost like bouncing like Darcy.
Lucy laughs in his mind, and reaches out one scaled foreleg with slim digits and long claws. She swipes them at him- slowly and with plenty of air between them. “Shoo! I am a fierce dragon defending the hedge maze!” She doesn’t sound that fierce with the giggling she’s doing.
“Oh, okay,” Arthur says. “I thought maybe you had a riddle or something…”
“No, you’ll have to defeat me in brave combat!”
Arthur grins, and jogs back to Quincy and John.
~~~~
“Now that is the drama prop to end all drama props! Bloody hell, Cycy, I am officially impressed.” Still wide-eyed, Quincy nevertheless turns to catch Arthur and give him a once over. “Did that dragon slash at you? Are you alright, honey? Also, really, you see a dragon and your first reaction is to run right at it?” He can’t help the tut to his voice.
Arms crossed, Darcy pouts. “I wouldn’t put him in any real danger! My mother knows she has to behave! And I’m sorry… I tried, but I didn’t manage to be the dragon and tăticu said he’d be way too big so no, only Lucy could help.”
~~~~
“That’s fucking Lucy?!” With a whistle, John gives the dragon one more long look then focuses in on the much more important thing and makes a point of shrugging hard. “Eh, you’ll be the way fiercer dragon, not all… well, slim and fragile and petite. You’re a real monster! My monster-girl.” He ruffles through her hair and pulls her close in while Quincy snickers. “I so will be the daintier dragon if we all get to be dragons. Just you wait, I’ll fuss over my tiny claws while you stand roaring over me.”
~~~~
“Er…” Arthur says, because in hindsight, maybe running at a dragon wasn’t that sensible. But… “Dragons are cool? And like Darcy said, it’s a game; she wouldn’t put anything really dangerous in it!” He looks between the dhampirs. “You’ll be able to turn into dragons, too? …Can all vampires turn into dragons? I think the books would’ve mentioned something about that?”
“Don’t tell everybody but no, it’s special even for vampires, so it’s only our family.”
~~~~
Quincy can’t help but snort at how proud Cycy sounds saying that, and while her and Arthur seem to go off on a nerd trip about dragons, he looks at the obstacle in the game. A dragon, in a game made by a total fairy-tale addict, hm, they need a knight. Was this supposed to be the one Cobb would show off in? Well, no Cobb here and he can’t say he minds that, he’d rather focus on flirting with Blondie and having fun with the social aspects than having to do patron management.
It’s… huh, strangely freeing, he’s not performing (much), he’s just being himself and nobody does more than grunt at him. And let’s be real here, Blondie’s grunts are half show themselves and kind of sexy actually. Lucky girl.
Right, lucky girl to have such a hunk. Now, wouldn’t he be much better at this knight business? Looking him up and down, he realises something else, they came from the stables and the hint was for Hannibal, the horse (sure, horse…), not the building, really. Do say, a knight riding up to the dragon sounds very nicely dramatic. He thinks through all the illustrations he knows, knights don’t ride up empty handed. Wait, how smart is that horse? It’s magical after all.
“Arthur,” he has to poke him on the shoulder, too, to get his attention away from where he and Darcy apparently now are discussing dragon lore from different cultures, “could your horse have hidden another clue?”
~~~~
“Uh?” Arthur says, pulls his thoughts away from the dragons- real ones! Darcy’s and Quincy’s vampire house is definitely the best vampire house if it comes with dragon shapeshifting. “Sure, I suppose?” Would Hannibal do that? …Hannibal would definitely do that. Arthur chuckles. “That would be totally like him, actually.”
~~~~
“I just might have an idea.” With a wink, Quincy turns around, waves John after him with a purr about needing a strong, manly man, and then returns to the stables.
Where he makes his proposition to Hannibal that he is being a naughty horsey and just depriving himself of the ultimate chance to show off how magnificent a drama prop he is!
Could there be any better use for a valiant steed like him than carrying this image of masculinity into battle with a dragon? Now, they do need a weapon, he wouldn’t just happen to know where it is, does he?
~~~~
If the molly puts the flattery on any heavier, John might… well, truthfully, blush, but fuck is he not going to ever mention that, so he’ll stick with the official version of groan and grunt and smack but actually totally keep glancing at Darcy because every time Quincy says something like that, she grins so hard and nods so eagerly.
Yes, John is feeling a bit flustered, he’s not really used to anybody being so outspoken and, well, it’s a molly, no, not a molly or he’d feel gross, it’s their molly and he hasn’t made a single intrusive comment, just one appreciative one after the other, and does… he really look like that to him?
Can the molly really not tell immediately that he isn’t… Well, he is a real man, but it’s so hard to make the world see that.
~~~~
Arthur hangs back and watches what Quincy is up to. Riding Hannibal into battle against Lucy the dragon… well, that sounds like a fun idea.
Hannibal, though, gives a sniff in John’s direction, then clearly decides Quincy smells more interesting, because he sticks his nose against his chest and then nudges him.
~~~~
Looking at the surprised look on Quincy’s face, John can’t even be miffed, frankly, he has trouble not to holler: “Arthur, your horse is a molly!” But with Arthur, he never knows what’s going to set him off, so he just snorts and instead ribs Quincy: “Looks like the fair maiden has to do the dragon fighting instead. Good luck, princess.”