Chapter 17
Previously: Obsidian: Crystal Heart – Chapter 16
John feels like he must have somehow misplaced his control over his dreamscape because what the fuck is happening? He thinks he fell out of the boat he was holding onto on the raging river that is his girl because clearly, the molly unleashed the flood!
Not just because the fucker keeps talking, but also… just, WHAT?!
Somebody slow the emotions down, please. He can’t keep up with those two dracs. This is a conspiracy, and he can’t decide if it’s against him or not.
The molly is making love declarations in every direction, and his girl… oh fuck his life, of course, his girl is running right along with it. Now he has one hand held each by a drac and he is pretty sure they want to start up the drac version of a Hora, and that’s a wedding dance for a reason.
Help, somebody stop the carousel his world turned into!
Just… Quincy made the biggest fucking point ever about not pushing him to the side when he could easily have. If he really is in love with Darcy, she wanted that for many weeks, she would have thrown herself drac first at him and devoured his soul with how complete her dedication would have been. Quincy put his foot down before she could even go drac-brained about it.
His bro made a point out of still declaring Darcy his girl. Made a point out of, um, enforcing that both dhampirs love him. What?
Should he feel so overwhelmed but not nearly as uncomfortable as he would have thought he would be?
The molly, (and that’s just ridiculous a pet name in this situation,) is singing praises to his brotherly love for him. To his virtues as Darcy’s man. To the importance in her life and the difference he makes. Somehow, John finds it kind of impossible to feel like Quincy is targeting him in any way.
His bro went to fucking lengths to not make this into one of those stories where the heroine chooses between two men who both love her. Just the kind of thing Darcy would automatically assume is how the world works.
No, Quincy made sure that this is a retelling, a reforging of the tropes, just like they’ve done with Darcy in the dreamscape repeatedly now. Just… this time Quincy did it for John’s benefit, not Darcy’s, and John goes from being flustered to deeply touched.
Sure, he’s still red in the face and would rub his neck or stick his hands into his pockets if he could get them out of his dhampirs’ grip, but… but his bro did him a solid. Again.
He doesn’t think he can get himself to say anything about even brotherly love, that still makes him feel weird but, um, well, it’s their molly, the fucker’s good with social, so he’s sure Quincy knows what he tries to express when he grins at him and just calls him “Bro”. He’s pretty sure Quincy can read all the emotion underneath the word.
Yeah, yeah, their molly can, there’s the wink and John didn’t think he’d ever be so comfortable and happy to see a man grin.
But yeah, he knows about Quincy’s fears and struggles so, fuck, no, he doesn’t need to be threatened. His bro managed to fall in love! Woohoo!
Fucking yes, that needs to be celebrated!
There, now he pulled the fireworks. Wait, the view from Arthur’s mage tower will be better!
Top of the tower, looking over the bay with Molly’s city shimmering in the background and the stars rivalling the fireworks. Yes, now that’s the proper display… with a big red explosion in heart shape. The dhampirs are going to love that kitsch.
Yupp, there go his eardrums… again, he supposes, at all the squealing.
Still, they both outright refuse to let go of his hands, and it means the fucking world to him to know that his bro isn’t stealing his girl and that his girl might be a love-stricken dolt over their molly returning her feelings but she still keeps chirping her love at him, too. He’s pretty sure that if any of them needed to breathe, Darcy would look sheepish because she made them faint with all the long kisses.
Through all that happiness, he nearly forgets about her incessant crying, and she has to be better now, but, well, obviously Molly’s brain is even less reliable than normally, so he can’t really trust his bro to take the needed talking duty.
John gets to be voice of reason, and isn’t that just a bad joke when it comes to talking about emotions. Still, it’s for his girl, and he’s not worried that he’ll disturb the dhampirs’ love rush. Come to think of it, if anything, he suspects that their molly will want to take care of it, that has to be more than a coping mechanism. With somebody he loves it would be a sign of affection, wouldn’t it? John can make observations about how their molly in love looks in the future, for right now he asks why Darcy was so upset.
Okay, her pouting and literally flailing her arms while saying she doesn’t know, her drac is being silly, shouldn’t be this level of adorable, but his girl just is such a puppy at times. And he doesn’t like when she’s cross with her own drac, that murder puppy is her soul, after all.
Quincy looks intrigued now, too. Then shocked, (and John agrees,) when Darcy explains that her drac feels all untethered and floaty and just so alone because Gregory fell out of her brain.
Yeah, they both gave each other far too hopeful a look, but they can break out the champagne when they have confirmation that Gregory met hunters, too. Until then, they should focus on Darcy, and yes, her drac is a dolt if that’s what’s upsetting it. Just, the comparison to how alone she felt after they ripped Radu out of her heart makes him suspicious. She was enthralled to Radu, yes, even if she asked for it.
Hadn’t it been him who asked Arthur a long while back now if she seemed a bit obsessed with that Radu?
Obsessed, enthralled… What if his girl…?
Oh fuck.
“Darcy, did you ever love Gregory?”
He wants to see her reaction. Compare it to what he’s seen from her before, and that’s worth the huff from Quincy, because, fuck… she looks so confused. Not like before, when her drac would snarl and she’d say that he’s hers. How did that formulation never sting him before?
His girl bit Llew before to make sure she has more blood sources. So she wouldn’t be obsessed with him again. Him! Who was the second person she bit! Second! And enthrallments work through blood exchanges. Gregory fell out of her brain. Because she hasn’t had any of his blood, because he hasn’t had any of her blood. No more blood exchange, no more connection, no more Goddamn fucking obsession!
Oh fuck!
Those connections snapping into place must be plainly visible on his face. Both dhampirs are looking so worried at him, and Darcy isn’t even stuttering through any answer anymore, she’s sniffling about love.
A broken blood connection… like when they ripped Radu out of her heart. But she’s not whimpering about a Gregory-shaped hole.
The hole in her heart.
Maybe… maybe they can help her drac, close the hole for good without fear of insane voivode.
How is he not jealous at all? No, dolt question, he can protect his girl. There’s nothing to be jealous about.
“Molly, she calls you ‘blood of her heart’, you love her, she needs that blood! You can fit yourself into the Radu-shaped hole in her heart! Her drac is afloat because she was fake enthralled to Gregory! It wore off! He hasn’t touched her since you joined the household. Wasn’t there something about breaking an enthrallment with true love? You can break the bad consequences.”
~
Quincy can feel his mouth drop open slowly. Observant. He’s said it before. His darling has a lovely, lovely head on his shoulders. And yes, this is like the night they ‘loved her better’ all over again. Just that this time, her whimpered thought of ‘you look like him’ would have elicited a very different reaction. He can be her lover, not just her affair. Aaaand then he realises that Quincy periphery dodged again.
Lover. Nu uh. John’s talking blood bond, and they didn’t stick so much bloody research into this for Quincy not to know that blood bond means marriage, and… and… and… eep? But also, eep because what does he even wear? And he was ready to profess his love, not propose! His bro threw him into this. Agh, he’s underdressed and underprepared and how do you even propose to a woman?!
That means he should propose, right? Why does this seem so difficult? He knows the bloody etiquette rules. But they never applied to him! How do straight people do this?! And he doesn’t wanna be straight! Ew. No, it doesn’t fit with his flair. And would she wear a dress? Does he want to marry somebody in a dress? That doesn’t fit with all his little fantasies!
His bro can’t do this to him! He’s supposed to be the suave and dramatic one sweeping Cycy off her feet and he’s doing a piss poor job at it right now.
He knows he’s giving her deer-in-the-headlights eyes and can’t pick his jaw back up to say just the right words to make her melt and swoon. No, love is supposed to be perfect, (at least his!), he can’t bungle it like this!
She speaks long before he can get his thoughts far enough in a row to get them out.
“I love you, mon sang du coeur. Blood of my heart. You’ve always had my hand and heart, you gave me your heart, I’ll gladly take your hand, too. I want love in here. In me. It was surveillance and torture with Gregory, it was dracs frolicking together with Radu. Please, will you blood-bond me?”
Eep, Darcy can’t do this to him! Or can she…? Didn’t she just rip it out of the human etiquette he stumbled over? He doesn’t want to marry a woman, but she’s his queen, his angel. Like he said before, she’s so much more, she’s his little sliver of the Divine.
With a deep inhale, he takes both her hands. This still feels absolutely overwhelming, too big, too scary, but then, that’s why angels always start with ‘Fear not’. This is how it should feel standing this close to the Divine.
Awe.
It’s awe he’s feeling. And really, that’s the only appropriate reaction to love.
“I do.”
Okay, bloody hell, what does that furry thing inside him want now? Why does he feel like his legs are being pushed against? He turns his head slightly to see what it’s pushing him towards: John.
Oh, of course. Fine, it’s probably right because, no, he meant it when he said it earlier. There is no love between them if they don’t love John as well.
“Under one condition: You ask the same question of your borne when you finally open your eyes and love him the right way.”
Quincy is going to admit that the heavy coughing fit and definitely suppressed ‘eep’ John gives him at that are music to his ears. The level of emotion, oh yes, now that is the raging river and thunderstorm he wants to be stuck in between! Cycy’s blushing but looking oh so stubborn, and Divine, yes, that level of determination is what he wants from her.
Always this determined, this willing to fight the grey world and even herself to fulfil everything he asks of her. He has an angel with the proverbial fury of the Divine at his fingertips, at his beck and call, and for once, yes, he doesn’t mind the cool cackles at the back of his mind.
His beck and call was asking her to love harder, love the second most important person in his life, and he doesn’t feel like that counts as grey and cold. Not when he can all but feel the fire of her heart beat against his.
Right, he will be feeling that right in his mind if he just starts that blood bond. If he just finishes it. And suddenly, he can’t wait a moment longer. He wants to taste her blood, wants to rush his own into her heart. Where it belongs. Where he belongs. Where John belongs, too.
He wants it all. He wants them all. All the emotions. And he will have it!
5 Jan 1900
When Arthur wakes up, he’s in his bed and it’s morning- to his disappointment, it seems John didn’t pull him into the dreamscape at all this night.
Well, they were all exhausted. But Arthur kind of wanted to talk about what happened… He’ll have to do that in ‘real time’, now.
At least the ringing in his ears has stopped. He can hear the soft whisper of wind and rain against his window, and Katharina’s croaky little ‘mow’ noise she makes as she yawns and stretches.
Once he’s up and checks the time, he sees that yes, it’s his usual time and it’ll be about an hour or so before the others will join him. Nothing for it, so he proceeds with his normal routine and heads off to the kitchen to eat breakfast.
When the others do join him, it’s with Darcy holding tight to a hand each, and squishing herself tighter to both of them than usual, if possible. She’s also smiling and giggling and chirps her good morning greeting to him, so Arthur thinks that’s a good squishing. It makes him happy to see, and he smiles back, and then asks whether they’re all okay, whether their hearing is all back to normal, too.
~
“I’m all fine!” She twirls for him to show off, runs over to hug him thanks, too, but then dashes right back to her men, she can’t stand not feeling them, not being right in the place where their smells intermix, for longer than a few seconds. From the moment that her sang du coeur’s blood was on her tongue and her blood on his, she could feel her drac’s paws float back down. Could feel it set down on the ghost of a bridge. It’s not there yet and she hates that, but she knows, she just knows he’ll be so very close to her soon and hold her heart together into one solid piece again, and maybe, maybe once it’s like that, she’ll be good enough for John, too, and finally learn to love him the right way. The man she loves and who loves her wants her to, so that’s that!
~
Seeing that Darcy has her brain solidly planted in happy puppy mode, and Quincy being no fucking better with how he’s just following her every move with his eyes and hand stretched after her until she’s back on it, John thinks he’ll have to do the talking with Arthur. The dracs are too high off each other, and he’s going to keep celebrating them for it. “Yeah, might be worth it for you to check if I have all my blood together, but Darcy’s healed up and happy.”
~
Arthur holds his hand out across the table to offer John to put his own arm in reach so he can check whether John’s got as much blood as he’s supposed to, and considers asking about the lack of dreamscape- but how would he put it? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t want to sound whiny or demanding, and so he decides to move on. The important part is that everyone’s okay and that now he can get any questions answered, after all.
~
Once John got himself topped up, (and no comments why he might have got even less than after helping Darcy heal,) he smiles at Arthur, then notices the curious look and right, uh, oops, questions. That could get interesting. The dhampirs were more than a bit distracted with each other last night. He has no clue, either, what happened, he never asked, they had more important things to do, and he’ll punch anybody who makes the obvious quip of ‘doing each other’. The situation is so typical in this household that he can’t help but start chuckling. Chuckling so hard that he has to put an elbow on the table and push at the dhampirs, who, of course, are sitting on top of each other. “Oi, get your brains far enough out of the gutter and the heavens to see to the legitimate questions I’m sure Arthur has.”
~
“Um, I do have some,” Arthur agrees. Now that he’s seeing how good Darcy’s, and apparently Quincy’s, mood is, he’s kind of reluctant to ask them and pull the attention back to the horrors of the day before, but… well. They still have to figure that out.
Also, “gutter and heavens”? He’s getting the distinct impression that something happened, but it’s a social something so he doesn’t know what and how to read it.
~
Smacking at Quincy where he is using the edge of the table to stick his hands places Arthur definitely shouldn’t be aware of, Darcy beams over. “You can always ask me, Arthur-dear!”
~
Arthur glances between them again, the way Quincy is looking at Darcy and how they’re interacting, and wonders what’s going on there. That’s not what he wanted to ask, though. “Okay, so, uh… what happened yesterday? Where’d those hunters come from?”
~
“I don’t know!” Darcy blows her cheeks out with a pout and that tells John all he needs to know on the topic of how much information they have to work with. That’s his girl’s annoyed look. “Mon sang du coeur and I were going to, uh, he said cause some havoc with the gang. We had… dinner with one of them and then knew where their hideout was and, uh, I guess Quincy wanted to show me some more ways of hunting, and he was talking to the gang leader, and I smelled that oil mon borne uses for his guns, and Daddy for his crossbows, and then I smelled dhampir and… okay, that’s pretty much the last I really remember apart from, of course, protecting mon sang du coeur.”
Taking it up from there, Quincy sighs and puts a kiss on Darcy. (Or should John say, another one?) “Of course she did. With all the fury of a fallen angel! But that dhampir was a minstrel, so I helped her by keeping him off of her and sending the gang leader to fetch our manly man. You two pretty much saw the rest of it… Where is that gang leader anyway?”
Oops! Now that’s something to overlook but John can’t really feel bad about it, they had more important things to deal with than check up on some random schmuck who had one and only one purpose, to help John find his girl and bro. So he just snorts and gets up. “Let me go look what the house spirit did with him. We kind of left him standing in the entrance, didn’t we, Arthur?”
~
“Uh…” Arthur blinks, blinks again, then groans and runs a hand over his face. “We did! I completely forgot about him!” Which is awful- what if he was either a threat or in need of help?! “…He wasn’t hurt, right? He didn’t look hurt…”
~
“Nope. Just dazed.” John can’t quite find it in himself to feel bad for the kid, the gang might have harboured the hunters, after all. A quick check through any of the guestrooms leaves him empty-handed and the house eventually pops up a tray with empty dishes and opens a door to the outside. He’ll assume the kid took the free meal and left. If he tried stealing anything, he probably found it vanishing under his hands. “Good house spirit, thanks!” Now that he’s up anyway, he might just as well bring the things he took off the hunters yesterday. There was no time to check over them.
As he returns to breakfast, he walks right into Quincy’s pathos- and drama-filled, (and definitely not as gory as it should be,) retelling of Darcy’s heroic defence of him. Just about to chuckle at it, Quincy turns to the part where John strode into the battlefield with all the masculine glory of a Greek god before rushing to their godesses’ chivalrous defense, and fuck, now he’s blushing. John knows he’s blushing. Fucking molly always.
~