Chapter 1
Previously: The Rose of Whitby – Coda
25 Dec 1899
Alright, finally, he got her away from everybody! Really now, he can’t work like this, not with, ugh, father figures speckled all over and making her behave like a little kid. Idiots, the lot of them, blind idiots! But now he has Cycy right here with him, her hand in his, outside, just in case this gets explosive- drac-splosive? Is that a word? Well, it should be one… and he should learn how to have one so he can have it at Cobb the next time he tries to put a chain on him.
Arse!
But Cycy first, then the dhampirs can stick their heads together and find a way to show united fangs. Ooh, he likes the sound of that, and really, she’s the noble here. What does that little knight think he can do against his wife? Gifting him a theatre to indebt him! Not while he has a real knight, a vampire knight!, guarding him!
But he’ll have time for the huffing later. For right now he has a forest goddess, a queen of the night, his fallen angel, to save from the only thing she should ever fear: herself.
His hands are gentle on her as he leads her further and further out into the back of the estate, (and really tries his very best to ignore the moths overhead, could her bats not please take care of that, really now, free buffet and nothing happening, ew!)- Focus, Quincy! Right, right, ah, perfect, a fallen tree. How about they sit down there? No?
Oh… it has a bunny warren underneath it, of course it does… and clearly, his Cycy is not in the mood. Which really, bad sign with her, so yes, onwards, all the way into the woods, okay? Creepy-crawly territory, he should have brought a picnic blanket…
He feels her hands slip out of his as she suddenly stumbles to her knees with a sob, then a keen, then a shriek that would make any banshee proud, he thinks. Just about to kneel next to her, he jumps back, startled, when her fist smashes down onto the ground, leaves a crater in the soft forest loam. Okay, that’s why she didn’t want to be next to her bunnies. For a moment, he wants to scramble away as he sees the purple streamers at the edge of her eyes- Is she going to go hell-beast again? But then her tears start streaming, and yes, she’s pummeling the ground, but her pain breaks his heart.
No, he’ll stay right here and wrap his arms around her the moment she is safe to do so.
It takes a little while, his Cycy has stamina, of course she does, but then she happily nuzzles herself into him, ruining his shirt with her bloody tears, but oh well, she’s worth it. “Hush Cycy, you’re doing great, yes, let it all out and then tell me. I’m here for you.”
She sniffles, but he freezes, because he caught that thought. He didn’t mean to, but oh dear Divine, shit: ‘But you aren’t Radu, you just look like him.’
Shit, ouch, and also hey! Oh no no no, not so fast!
“Cycy, I’m hurt. How can you compare the two of us when I have no idea why you would even think something like that?” Maybe he shouldn’t, but now he started, and really, he’s so bloody had it with being scared. Worse, scared of somebody he doesn’t really know anything about… he doesn’t, shit, now that was a mistake, wasn’t it? Only one way to remedy that. “Why don’t you tell me about him? Why are you this upset?”
He can so see that she didn’t expect to hear that, her eyes are so big and shoo, idiot intrusive thoughts again, yes yes, her eyes are gorgeous. He’s well aware of his dhampir weakness for her, thank you very much. Not in the mood right now for fooling around, this is serious. Quincy outpost to Quincy central, silence down there.
And really, oof, that man did spin her into a lot of cliché fairy-tale tropes about being the perfect rake. Poser, where’s the challenge when he can read minds? Not impressed one bit, no, not grumbling. But Quincy forgets his totally-not-jealousy about that much masterful image management when she lifts one trembling hand to her chest and tells him about how it feels like there is a hole in her chest and all of herself just wants to leak out, because they forbade her to love who she wanted to love. But she’ll be obedient.
“You will do no such thing!” Quincy hisses and he knows full well that part of him is not thinking just about her but no, no, he can’t possibly be part of stealing love from anybody! Not love, not the precious thing that is out of his reach. He saw the flower strand, hell, he agreed with Lucy that it looked like the romantic one… not like the mere yellow roses for Cobb.
Gentling his voice, he puts his hand on hers and shakes his head. “Cycy, please, talk it out with me. I never meant to punish you, none of us did. We thought he… forced himself on you, tricked you. But, you are so hurt, please, tell me.”
And she does, talks about how he brought her hopes back. How she saw his drac, how she shocked him. It was her who brought the enthrallment up! (Quincy nearly faints at hearing that.) And yes, Radu agreed, but then he went on dates with her. Darcy tells him – gushes, really – about all the things they talked about, the dancing, the bites, the two hurt dracs howling together, and how she didn’t mind the enthrallment because it might push out the horrid blood chain Cobb has on her.
She wanted to rid herself of a chain and they kept her from it? Oh Divine what has he done?
He has pushed his own light at the grey world as hard as he could. He wants to believe in romance so badly. And he gave her the thought, the impression, that he wants her to be an obedient wife in an abusive marriage. Oh Divine, no, he needs to fix this!
He said he would fix her relationship anyway… wait… by giving her time with her affair. Wait just a moment! Radu, it’s Radu she fell in love with, why not Blondie? What is he overlooking? And the way she looks at him… He doesn’t want to ask, but he must.
“Is it just the looks, Cycy?”
The answer is clear long before she dares say anything, the way she shudders, makes herself small, doesn’t dare to look at him. Oh no, no, bloody hell no! He’s so hurt by not being able to love, but he will not stand in the way of love! Not when he has a chance to maybe make it better!
So he grabs her chin tight and lifts it up to kiss her. “Cycy, my dark angel, I cannot wrap my wings around you, but please, no, you need to soar, your love needs to soar.” Then he has an idea, and he might get punched, but no, worth it, he will do this!
“I can’t love you, I fear, much as you deserve it, but please, your love deserves to be complete, so if you give love to me, let me get the one who gives you love back. Together your love will be complete.”
She blushes and looks unsure- Oh what the hell, she wants a rake and who would ever describe him as the classical hero in any story?, so fine, fine, he can do this! “Sit and wait! That’s a command.” He puts in that bit of concentration that he needed when Arthur tested him, and yes, there is that dazed expression on her before she remains exactly as she was with a nod.
Great, he’s all the way in the back of the estate here… he should have thought that through better. Fine, she’s worth running. He has a suspicion he might sweat from other exertions before the night is out yet anyway. So he starts running, okay, fine, jogging, back towards the castle, and, memo to himself, bring that aforementioned picnic blanket, because if he has to get his naked butt on the ground, he will not have it directly on the gross outdoors.
And of course, Blondie needs a bit of convincing, the man is far, far too smart and way too upset about him being around. “Yes, yes, I’m barging into your room late and alone. Unclench your panties. This isn’t about me wanting into your pants. This is about your girl sitting alone in the woods, half a wrong sentence away from a mental breakdown because you know what, we are both idiots! So will you come along and show her that she is loved, that we should have talked to her, that we did not mean to rip some actual love out?”
Now that made an impression. Oh for crying out loud, don’t put on more clothes, idiot, do I need to spell this out for you, you are smarter than that. “I apparently get Radu look-alike bonus, or dhampir relative bonus. In any case, she set her heart on me and I can’t deliver, but you hunk love her. Now, darling, for Cycy, whatever we have to do.”
That… phew, okay, less complaining on his front than he thought, um, oh my, he can handle the talking, guide it, let Cycy’s dreams gush out of her, but hell is Blondie one beast of a dance partner for this play. The man knows more than just how to build a backdrop. When it’s for his girl he pulls out all the stops and Quincy has to confess, that is just so idiotically sweet that he would coo, if it didn’t get rather explicit quickly and he did fully expect to get knocked out at the first sign of this really happening. But huh… that’s not anger or revulsion, is John scared?
Okay, now the two lovelies both need his support and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give it. So hands behind his back and soft and gentle up front. Let Cycy do the talking, he’s the prop here, he’s not going to do anything… apart from staring, apparently, because what is he supposed to do here on the comment front? Cycy… well, maybe it’s idiotic, because he did play nurse for her, but he made such a point of not looking and using a big sponge and the house helped, too, but hell, she’s not a woman?!
And that was apparently the point where he fucked up, because all discomfort and fear fall off of Blondie as he growls at him, oops, so much for his poker face he supposes. Blow incoming in three, two, one…
Dreamscape? Huh?
Oh, maybe that hand moving towards him wasn’t a punch after all. No, if anything, it looks like Blondie is the one who feels punched with the way he looks even here, and ugh, how is Quincy supposed to hold out against those blue eyes? That sincere look, that open love and concern for his girl, the man is too bloody dreamy! Okay, focus, he’s getting the rundown on how much Darcy has struggled with this, how she feels endlessly inadequate, and that frankly makes Quincy’s anger boil. Not on his watch!
Sounds like him and Blondie agree on that… oh well, and if he has him in here in confidence anyway, he tells him that he can see the discomfort, and he has no interest in doing anything that warrants it. He’s a molly, not a rapist, please, he can see from a kilometre away that he has no consent. They are here for Cycy, she’s John’s girl, not his, he doesn’t want one, but how about he helps with that sense of ‘not woman enough’, because, frankly, not his cup of cocoa, and between them, hey, can’t they make her feel desirable and loveable for all of her?
Together, can’t they show her that she doesn’t have to bury any of those dreams she had about Radu? Quincy tells John that he doesn’t love her, but it is so bloody obvious that John does, and that’s what he wants to work with and on. He doesn’t deserve Darcy’s heart, he can’t give her any true love back, but that’s why they are in this together. Make her feel whole. Make her feel that there was no punishment. That there is no resentment. That no, that’s the opposite of what they wanted. They want her emotions to soar, and really, now between them, it’s Cobb who is the bloody problem. So how about they oust him. Hm?
Somebody hand him a glass of cold water, now that is a wicked grin if ever he saw one.
So, get back out there and make Cycy scream with every form of bliss before the sun comes up and stoke her fire… He laughs as he gets corrected to ‘raging river’. Okay, yes, fitting for that woman. So, let her dream and soar and lift her high between the two of them?
Oof, he’ll feel that punch to his shoulder tomorrow but he takes it as agreement to it being a battle plan.
And frankly, that shoulder isn’t the only thing he’ll feel tomorrow, ouch, that woman has too much bloody stamina! But it’s worth it, both the dancing, and the cheering for the rough play between her and Blondie, and the repeated sex followed by deep hearts to hearts, to, yes, he’s not going to complain one bloody bit about falling asleep in Cycy’s big bed with a snoring Cycy between him and Blondie and Blondie giving him such a look of ‘don’t you dare tell anybody’.
That’s just too cute, so he grins and reaches over, for the first time of the night actually actively initiating any touch, and punches John’s shoulder. “In this together, darling.”
~
26 Dec 1899
Arthur stops with his piece of toast halfway to his mouth and blinks as the kitchen door opens and John, Darcy, and Quincy come tumbling in.
They’re all very relaxed and grinning. In a way that he’s most certainly not going to think too much about. Well, Darcy is sleepy, it’s over an hour before her usual breakfast time. She makes it to her chair and then kind of dozes with her face smushed against John’s shoulder on one side and her legs curled against Quincy’s hip or something on the other, going by the fact that she doesn’t slide off of her chair.
Arthur distinctly feels like he missed something. Yesterday, she was all miserable and wolfed-out on Vlad’s lap while he sang lullabies to her (which should’ve seemed weirder than it did.) Also, yes, he forgot that everyone was leaving for the Court, so people were just doing lots of research and preparations and such, and there was no Christmas-y feeling to speak of. And then everyone was gone- well, all the parents except Mrs Harker. And Darcy and Quincy and John vanished to do their own things.
Or so he thought.
He really doesn’t know why he’s feeling so out of sorts about it- they had a lovely Christmas Eve day, what more could he ask for? And going to the Court and all is important, he understands that. And at least he’s less worried about everyone’s physical well-being now that Vlad is on their side and nobody’s going off to chase him down, and he said that physical attacks are forbidden at the Court. And he’ll do his best to protect everyone from other forms of attack, Arthur’s sure.
So really, everything is a lot better than the last time Dr Seward, Art, and Lucy left. He has nothing to complain about, really.
“Um… Good morning?” he offers, because what else can he say?
“Morning, honey!” Quincy grins back and pokes at Darcy. “Why are you even in a chair of your own, Cycy?”
Her comment to that is to give a half snore, half mumble, turn rat and curl into a ball on John’s lap.
“You brought that on yourself, Molly!” Even while John laughs and scratches Darcy’s fur, he pats the now empty chair. “Get over here before you start huffing.”
“Brought what upon myself? Seeing once more that her radar for ‘the big strong man who’s going to keep us frail ones safe’ is well-honed? Oh the horror.” Despite the quipping and smacking John on the shoulder, Quincy still sidles right up to him.
Right. Something is definitely going on. John and Quincy weren’t this comfortable around each other yesterday… were they? Well, maybe they were yesterday, Arthur really didn’t see enough of them to know, but they weren’t the day before yesterday.
Though they did all have loads of fun with the treasure hunt, and were getting along, so, possibly, it’s sort of an extension of that?
“Um… Are you feeling better, Darcy?” he asks, because that’s the important point. And he can’t actually see her, since the table now hides her, and she’s a rat, so can’t really talk, and might be mostly asleep on top of that, but it would feel wrong to ask John and Quincy that with her right there. He still looks to them for the answer.
Quincy exchanges a look and then a wink with John before nodding. “Yes, she is. You ran after her to lead her back to us after the ritual, and now we’ve made her feel loved again. Oh…” Startling slightly but laughing, Quincy helps Darcy climb up the tablecloth, before she sleepily waddles across the table, more falls than climbs onto Arthur’s lap, curls up right against him and snoozes on.
~
For a moment, John tries to hold it in but then he snorts and starts laughing. Yupp, that’s his girl, eloquent in her total lack of grace.
~
Arthur blinks down at Darcy, feels the slight weight and warmth of her against his leg, then finds himself smiling brightly, reaches down to scratch between her ears- maybe it’s weird, but it just feels like the thing to do. And yes, now he feels… properly aligned with the day again.
“I’m very glad to hear that,” he tells them all.
~
John is rather fucking glad that he doesn’t have that kind of male ego because Darcy might still be a sleepy dhampir mess when the three of them (and when did he agree to Quincy coming along?) switch from breakfast to workout, but she still outbenches him with ease. At least Quincy makes an aghast face at the mere notion of lifting a weight. John can take being weaker than his girl, he couldn’t take the molly being stronger. Nope, he’s just there to ogle and cheer, not even trying to deny it.
He’s still laughing at the huffing and hiding behind Darcy that their molly is pulling after John threw one of the weights at him for ogling too much. But… in all fairness, Quincy was joking about it but not actually doing it. He remembers what he said last night, and it seems the molly actually means it, in this together and taking consent seriously.
So for once, he’s smiling when they settle in for the paperwork. John has to say that between the three of them, and with Darcy being a lot more relaxed and eagerly chirping than he’s seen her in a while, this isn’t so bad. Their molly is good at sassing about the entire thing, too. Occasionally scandalising Darcy with some rather explicit quips, and John is pretty sure the fucker does that on purpose, both to get a reaction out of Darcy, and because he’s trying for being guy friends with John. And… ugh, him always being so fucking agreeable. Yes, yes, it’s fucking working, John never felt so included in ‘being one of the guys’.
That’s probably half the reason for him grabbing not only Darcy but also their molly on full instinct when the place suddenly starts to shake violently. Arms still tight around both of them where he threw himself under the table, he eyes the way to the balcony. Can they make it? Fuck… the balcony just vanished downwards! Wait, the wards are blaring, too. This is an attack, not just an earthquake!
Fuck!
Then Quincy gives the weirdest little shiver and whining noise when whoever is attacking them sends a more specific message than: ‘I’ll shake the place up’.
“Where is she?! You sluggish Seelie! Where are you hiding my daughter? You won’t keep her from me!”
The voice makes John think of winter days he spent at the harbour, cold-bitten through every layer by the frosty wind. But how the fuck does a voice do that impression of wind howling? Magic, must be magic.
And that thought makes him realise that it’s Arthur’s riding time. Fuck, he’s probably out there with that fucker! Okay, run for the balcony door, Darcy can carry them down.
~
Quincy has no idea why he is the only one who dashes across the room without any trouble. He thought he’d have to fight to keep up with Darcy and John, but they are staggering as if the shaking is throwing their balance off… uh, as it should?
He can be smug about that later. The way that voice tugged at something inside of him and the words… which really, why does he feel like, duh, of course Seelie are sluggish? That makes about as little sense as him being the one holding the door for Darcy and John. In either case, that arse must be after his mother, and not on his watch!
~
There’s no way for her to start-up in her big bat form! She can’t change on the balcony, she doesn’t have one anymore! Arriving at the open door, Darcy tries to yell over the sirens that her men need to jump right after her and hopes they actually heard her. Here goes nothing.
She has to time this so that she’s still in the shadow of her room when she starts to change or she can’t do anything to help! The door, even held open, isn’t large enough, she can feel that she takes the side door with her as she turns mid jump, the wood splintering at the force. But she has her wings outside, she can flap, she can hold herself up a little bit even though she can’t hover.
There’s only one heavy thud on her back, feet, only two, ouch, then knees, four, crashing in, but Quincy is shrieking, giggling. John must have grabbed him. Good, she has them safely on her, she can tumble to the ground now. Gliding best she can, she sets down. Why did the earthquake stop? Is it over?
No, no, it isn’t. Quincy tells her there is somebody on the roof, somebody he hasn’t felt before with his mind. He needs to warn his mother! As he dashes off, she decides to buy him time, protect him, whatever she can do! Pressing herself as tight against the building as she can, there’s enough shadow for her to turn small bat and rush upwards. Like this, maybe she has a chance to not be noticed immediately.
~
John tries to keep an eye on her as long as he can. He’s too far away to do anything, fuck, he hates that. She screams and his insides turn to ice with fear… No, wait, that’s not pain, that’s frustration. There’s a loud thud from the other side of the house. Did she throw herself at the attacker and tumble them both over? Fuck. He better run to get his gun. Did he hear that right? Sluggish? Well, he’ll give the fucker slugs!
The molly already ran off to warn his mother, good kid, and he better not let him hear that, but he sure as fuck is going to back him up! He has no clue if the fucker is after Lucy Jr or Mrs Basarab, but he doesn’t get to put his hands on either of them! A mother and daughter John knows, over his dead body! And even more so if he’s trying to hurt their molly, too, to get at them.
It doesn’t take him long to grab his shotgun, the one Darcy gifted him, and run after Quincy to the library. His girl can look after herself, she’d pout, though, if he leaves their molly alone for too long.