Chapter 44
Previously:
Art groans and face-palms, he should have seen that one coming when he made it specific to the boys.
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That makes Arthur blush, but also… He decides he likes being part of the Faerie task force. Research is his strength, yes, but… but he wants to do something, too, make things happen.
“Okay!” he declares, lifts his chin higher. “I’m not sure whether I’m much good magically against any fae, but at least I can heal.”
Then he frowns and looks at Radu. “…Though I don’t know if I can heal vampires, I can’t make you more blood. I mean, I can heal blood loss on myself and others, but I don’t think I’ve ever been able to on Darcy…”
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Running at the chance to change the topic to safer ground, Radu, albeit a few notes higher-pitched than usual from still being terribly flustered but less terrified than he thought he would be, focuses on Arthur.
“I am afraid you will not be able to heal me at all. I am dead; the only magic that can heal vampires is necromancy, which, from what I understand, is a very misrepresented art in the human world.”
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Arthur shudders, his thoughts immediately going to his father, but… “Necromancy can heal people?”
“Of course it can. As Mester Beaufort is famous for repeating in his lectures, to the point that even I have heard it: Necromancy and medicine are but two sides of the same coin. The Court has necromancers in the same way that your cities have doctors. Necromancy is the gentle art of lessening ailments, repairing the damages of life, and fortifying us so that we may remain longer in this world.”
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Now that shift in tone and that gentle smile on Radu have Quincy pay closer attention. Did he just spot a love of teaching in his fiancé?
“That’s… really not how it’s used here… Or at least not by anyone I know…” Arthur allows. “That sounds almost like… like maybe I’ll want to learn it, after all… I thought it was only good for hurting people and scaring them and stuff…”
“How uncivilised.” Radu shakes his head, clearly appalled, and Quincy is very much getting to know that being civilised is something Radu values highly. Old snob. He loves that about his fiance. “From what I have heard of you, I believe you would make for a wonderful necromancer, studious and with a will to help, support, and heal those around you. My own benefit is irrelevant, but is not Quincy’s and Darcy’s wellbeing of interest to you? As dhampirs, I postulate they have similar use of a necromancer, at the latest upon them joining our society fully, if not earlier.”
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John’s listening in, less because he’s interested in necromancy and more because he’ll hand it to Radu, that’s going right for Arthur’s weak points on what might convince him.
Arthur snorts. “I don’t think anyone’s ever accused my father of being civilised… And I suppose using it to heal instead would kind of stick it to him…”
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Looking from one to the other, Quincy smiles. He can see what Radu is pulling, too, and finds it rather attractive, but that’s beside the point.
“We both know that Darcy has a talent for getting herself hurt. I can’t think of a better person to be able to heal her in any way possible. And just think how well it would go with your new style, confident in doing good and what you want, no matter what others’ preconceived notions are.”
At that, Arthur slides him a look. “Are you trying to talk me into being a necromancer?”
“No, your boyfriend is trying to talk you into not shying away from information and magic just because your loser of a father throws a shadow over it. That way he’d win, and then I’ll have to huff mightily,” Quincy tells him, and reaches to run his fingers through his hair with a smile.
“Well, when you put it that way… maybe I’ll have a look at some Court necromancy books, too…” Arthur concedes.
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“I’ll add it to the list of books we want,” Mariam declares. “Now, how about we living beings have our picnic, and I suppose I just about trust those two not to drown without supervision.” She shoos at Radu and Quincy, gets one unsure look and one wide grin before Quincy drags Radu off towards the beach.
Once they are out of earshot, she exhales in obvious relief while John lifts an eyebrow.
“Really? You sent them on a romantic stroll just so you can have more distance?”
Denying anything of the sort, Mariam tells him where she wants him to put the picnic basket down.
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Art looks after Quincy and Radu with crossed arms, then turns to Arthur.
“You let me know if it gets too much for you, being around them probably a lot from here on out.”
“Um, sure,” Arthur says, can’t help thinking: Like what, going on a weekend holiday with them? but… doesn’t feel quite ready to say that. “Why would it get too much, though?” he asks instead.
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“Because I’m feeling damn weird about rooting for Quincy to help Radu with overcoming the abuse, but once he does, I suspect you’ll be hip deep in little floating hearts when you’re around them.”
Scoffing and shaking his head, Art sighs, then reaches over to Arthur to ruffle his hair.
“And I don’t want Quincy to break your heart, because don’t you think I didn’t notice you being called ‘boyfriend’ now.”
That makes Arthur blush hard. “…It’s not like that. It’s a… caring about each other kind of agreement…”
“Uh, what else is being boyfriends supposed to be?” Giving Arthur a slightly unsure look, Art tries for a grin. “Sorry, I really have no clue about this whole molly thing, so sorry if my best attempt to just extrapolate from my own experiences with women is not working. Care to explain how I can do better, son?”
Arthur only blushes more, and mumbles: “I meant, I’m not in love with him, and I don’t think he’s in love with me, either…”
“But it’s a declared relationship… Uh, so more like engaged nobles?”
This still doesn’t make much sense to Art but he’s trying his best here to be a good dad, even if that apparently now means having to learn a whole new set of sex and relationship talks. How did he end up with all the mollies? He’s glad that John, at least, is easy, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to get it right with Arthur, too.
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“Uh…” Arthur says, blinks. “I… don’t think so…? I’m… not actually sure…” Maybe he needs to ask Quincy… but the thought of asking for details on that makes him blush harder. Though… Quincy wouldn’t put it in terms that’d make him uncomfortable…
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“Right.” Now that feels much more like familiar grounds again to Art, this he can deal with.
“Sounds to me as if you are trying to figure out your first relationship. That’s okay. You don’t need to know everything right away. Just make sure to say no if you aren’t feeling sure or if you are getting uncomfortable. Quincy’s a dhampir, don’t let that intimidate you, don’t let him push you. Okay?
“And I know it’s probably weird, but if you don’t know and need somebody to talk to about your relationship trouble, it’s okay to come to me,” Art tells him with another hair ruffle and grin. He suspects he’s setting himself up for being out of his comfort zone and experience, but it’s important to him to let his boys know that he’s there for them.
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“Okay.” Arthur gives him a shy smile. “Thank you.” He wonders if that’s what it’s like to have a real dad- someone who’s actually interested and offers to help…
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“Sure thing, son. Now, picnic, or are we going to let those two have all the sweets?”
Pointing his thumb over his shoulder, Art smiles at Arthur, then turns around after one last look down the hill, but Quincy and Radu have vanished to the beach and that puts a smile on his lips. He remembers sunset strolls down there with Lucy. So, okay, it’s weird as hell, but he hopes they are having a nice date.
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“Definitely picnic!” Arthur agrees, glad to get off the difficult emotional and tactical topics for a bit, as well. He goes to see what Mariam and John have left them in the basket.
Mariam and John haven’t, in fact, eaten all of the sweets yet, and Arthur… actually feels himself relaxing as he tries a few different biscuits and drinks tea. He’s glad for the warmth of the cup in his hands, because January really isn’t the right time for a picnic outside on a windy hill. But despite the clammy cold… he’s with… family and friends. He’s not alone, he doesn’t have to handle everything himself, he can… he can actually count on the people around him. And they have a plan. That rekindles his determination that they will do this, that they won’t let even the fae stand in their way of getting Darcy back.
Eventually, though, the biscuits and tea are gone, and the sun is setting behind the clouds somewhere, painting the sky in dull orange and pale lavender, and Quincy and Radu aren’t back yet.
Mariam declares that she’s freezing, and those two can find their own way back, and herds them all back to the castle, where the library welcomes them with crackling fireplaces and cozy warmth and thick, soft, hand-knitted blankets on their usual sofas and armchairs.
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“I’ll start feeling like an old man,” Art chuckles as he wraps the blanket around his shoulders and sits down, then grins before he asks the house for a hot chocolate with liquor. Just about to offer one to John as well, he notices the look, something’s up there, so no, he just keeps his own until Mariam clears her throat from her own spot on a sofa.
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Once she is fortified with her own indulgent drink, Mariam picks her book back up and leaves the rest to whatever they want to do. Plan in place, she finally can relax some more.
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Smelling that hot chocolate, Arthur asks for one as well- no liquor for him- wraps himself in his own blanket and curls up in a corner of the sofa. He reads for a little while as he sips his drink, and then, without quite realizing it’s happening, the interrupted nights catch up to him and he falls asleep, head resting on the arm rest of the sofa and curled towards the back, book on his stomach.
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Once he notices that, Art stifles a coo, puts his basically empty cup down and carefully walks over to try to get Arthur into bed. But Arthur startles awake with a questioning noise when he feels himself being lifted up, blinks in confusion at Art being so close.
“Sorry, son. Didn’t mean to wake you up, just wanted to get you to bed.” Setting him back down gently, Art smiles at him while Mariam, still holding Arthur’s book, chuckles. “Not used to it, hm?”
“Uh… no,” Arthur admits. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Yupp.” That’s John from his own armchair. “We all didn’t sleep enough. Get to bed. I’ll wait on the two dracs if you’re worried.”
With a yawn Mariam shakes her head. “Dinner first if he’s awake again anyway.”
“Yes, all of you are growing young adults.” Art adds in his best paternal voice while he ruffles Arthur’s hair. And really, he very much agrees with dinner!
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“Right, yes, dinner… and I guess then an early night.” Arthur sits up, tries to reorient himself. “I, uh… I don’t think I’m actually worried about the… two dracs,” he realizes.
After a moment, John snorts as he gets up.
“I’m worse. If anything I’m worried for Radu. I’ve seen a smitten Quincy up close. He might fluster him back out of his mind.”
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Mariam, just slightly, raises an eyebrow before turning towards the dining hall. She really needs to get some girl-time in with Quincy, because this is starting to be too funny. Who is sleeping with whom here really? Her engaged makes the most interesting statements sometimes.
“Oh, to be that young again.” Art chuckles, then pulls a face. “Did I really just say that? Ugh, I need more Lucy exposure!”
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Arthur thinks back to how Radu looked when Quincy dragged him into the library earlier today and kind of finds himself agreeing with John. Then he glances at Art.
“Um… if the big Court crisis known as Radu is sorted now, does that mean she can relax and visit? Or you visit her?”
“I wish.” Nodding his head towards the dining hall as well, Art keeps talking as he follows Mariam. “It’s barely been a month since she got voted in. Even without Radu being a problem, there are dozens of things she has to see to every day, and she has so much to learn. Frankly, I’m in awe of her. That’s my sugar lips, sweet talking and bitch slapping in every direction.”
Arthur falls in with him. “That sucks. You’d think with vampires living so long, they wouldn’t notice if she took a week or so here or there…”
“In a decade or three, they might not, but not the first year of having what they assume is an easy target on that chair.” Sounding grumpy about that, Art sticks his hands into his pockets, then looks surprised as John punches him on the shoulder. “Missing your girl sucks. I get it.”
Arthur smiles at him. “Thanks for being here to be our dad and help with the politics, anyway.”
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“Of course. Jack won the dad game the last two decades. I have to make up for it with having a bunch of kids to dad on.”
That puts the smile back on Art’s face, well, that and Mariam clearly having the munchies from feeling tired. The dinner table is laden down with good food.
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Even though they had their biscuits and tea not too long ago, Arthur finds his stomach agree with the smell of food. “And… I have a lot of good-dad time to make up,” Arthur decides.
“Want to join Mariam, John, and me for a comfy smoke and round of cards after dinner? Does that count as good-dad time?” Art offers, over his plate, already stacked high.
“Not sure about the smoking, but playing cards sounds fun… I mean, I haven’t played any for a long time…” Because the only one he had to play with was Gregory, and it didn’t take long for him to get bored with it because Arthur usually won… But that’s not something he wants to think about too much, so he piles his own plate, and begins making his usual efficient way through it.
“What do you play?” he asks, letting curiosity take over.
“Loo,” Art answers, then snaps his fingers as he starts grinning. “Hah, but with Arthur there, we have four players. We can play Whist! I love Whist!”
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Seeing him that enthusiastic, Mariam swallows a quip, he’s too adorable to always tease, and instead declares she wants dibs on Arthur as her partner.
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Arthur starts perking up, too, at the notion of learning something new, and playing with people and… someone even calling dibs on him as a playing partner. That’s never happened- people actually wanting to play with him in any way.
Grunting, John gives Mariam a look. “I’m not bad at math either, if that’s what this is about. Don’t think you two already won.”
Art laughs. “Team Smart versus Team Heart. Works for me.”
Smirking, Mariam quips back: “Team Smart versus Team Too-Much-Chest-Hair, more likely.”
That makes Arthur snicker, too, even if he can’t think of anything to say to join in the banter.
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“If Lucy had her way, nah, but as is, young lady, that was a very uncouth comment.”
Art tries to sound stern, but can’t keep the laugh out of his voice, especially at John unthinkingly having put a protective hand over his chest, which makes Mariam snort.
“Isn’t uncouth comments what we do around here when there’s no one to impress?” Arthur dares to quip, good to see him relax like that.
“Pretty sure you can impress Quincy with uncouth comments,” John fires back, while Art groans. “Spare your old dad, will you?”
“I’d win anyway,” is Mariam’s confident assessment.
“That I believe,” Arthur tells her.
“If I had an ego, I would be insulted to be outdone by somebody half my age without an established reputation as a scoundrel.” Laughing, Art winks at Mariam, but she scoffs. “Please, I still win. Women don’t get to be scoundrels. I have an established reputation as a likely harlot, after all. For the record, I really didn’t do anything uncouth with my last fiancé.”
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“My loss?” John’s grin and eyebrow waggle has Mariam gasp then burst into laughter as she throws her napkin at him.
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“What was the problem with him, anyway?” Arthur asks, curious- he doesn’t think he ever heard that story. “If you don’t mind talking about it,” he adds quickly.
With a shrug, Mariam answers: “Nothing gossip-worthy for this household, I’m afraid. He figured out that I am an aberration and, well, that technically voids my noble status, which was the only thing he was willing to marry me for in the first place.”
Arthur pulls a face. “What a prick.”
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“Rich middle class?” Art asks, although he suspects he knows the answer to that one.
“Yeah, rich prick wanting a noble title for his kids. The usual use for women like me.” It’s said with a sigh and Mariam grabbing for her wine glass. The way John looks, Art suspects he wanted to say something, but he remains silent after all.
“Smart ones who’re good at organising stuff?” Arthur asks.
With a chuckle, Mariam grins at Arthur. “Flattery. Now I see why you are Quincy’s boyfriend.”
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John really shouldn’t tease, but ever since the contract, he just doesn’t feel like he can be overly negative, and Arthur said he wants to be friends, so he just makes the joke: “It sure isn’t for the amount of chest hair he has.”
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Instead of laughing at the quip, Art asks, completely seriously: “Could somebody actually explain that to me? Is chest hair to mollies the equivalent to us straight guys liking, well…” He makes a round gesture in front of his chest that gets Mariam to snort.
“Tits! The word you’re looking for is tits!”
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Of course, Mariam saying that makes Arthur blush furiously- not that he wasn’t already starting at John making his comment about Arthur’s boyfriend status.
Pointing at Arthur’s blush, Art gives Mariam a paternal glare.
“I was trying to be nice to the molly at the table. Behave, okay?”
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Mariam is so tempted, so terribly tempted to say something in retaliation, but no, her situation is still not completely safe, she can’t chance John changing his mind after all about marrying her, so instead, she sighs.
“Sorry, Arthur. But going by that blush, is Art right? Is it the equivalent?”
Apparently, that doesn’t help Arthur’s blush at all. “How should I know?” he says. “I don’t get that whole… being-attracted-to-people thing…”
Oh, that was not what she expected. Clearly, she’s not the only one, Art looks a bit lost for words, but then it’s her engaged jumping in, likely in another round of protectiveness, to help Arthur be less embarrassed:
“I don’t get that whole being attracted to guys thing.”
Clearly that poke helped Art to get his momentarily frozen dad instincts back on track with a laugh: “Same here.”
She really, really shouldn’t but… now they are on a making-Arthur-feel-better track, and she’s helping them with vampires, selkie, fae, and a missing baroness.
Mariam didn’t mean for her voice to sound so brittle, either, but it does.
“Same here.”
John drops his fork.
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Arthur looks at Mariam in surprise, blinks as it takes him a moment to work out what she could mean. If she isn’t attracted to men… Then he remembers that princess comment, and some other quips, and can all but feel the penny drop.
And now he feels stupid: If Quincy can like men, why shouldn’t women be able to like women?
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While Arthur, rather obviously to the onlooker, in Art’s opinion, worked that out, his thoughts are in a different place because John’s facial expression is less comprehension and more downright fury.
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Mariam can see it, too. It’s everything she was scared of, but this household seemed so different, and she’s about to plead her case when John stands up hard enough to make his chair clatter over but then freezes, hands so tight on the edge of the table that his knuckles stand out, white.
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“Hey, hey, easy, son, I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you,” Art immediately soothes, tries to put a hand on his shoulder, too, but gets shrugged off. John isn’t even glaring at Mariam any more, he’s trembling and fixing a point on the floor behind the table with his eyes.
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Arthur startles at John’s reaction, the way he looms up suddenly, leans back a little… darts a look between him and Mariam, and wonders… uh, if Mariam isn’t attracted to men, but marries one anyway to have kids with, (he pushes the squirm of discomfort aside,)… isn’t that bad? For her? Forcing herself to do something she doesn’t want?
Isn’t that… sort of, kind of, like what happened to John? Is he okay with that?
Well, kind of obviously, he’s not okay with something, but Arthur doesn’t know whether he should say something, or what to say, he doesn’t want to upset John more…
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Mariam feels her worry turn to anger.
“Calm your stupid male ego! I signed that contract; I’ll still go through with it. I didn’t lie. I knew what I did when I signed my stupid uterus over to you…”
“No!” John roars it with so much force that Mariam goes quiet despite her own temper sparking. He looks about ready to get violent with her, and isn’t that typical guy? But his next words are more of a whimper:
“I’m not like him…”
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John is looking at her pleadingly, at Art. Why does nobody see the problem?
…Then it hits him: They don’t know, and Mariam thought that he’d just… just… not care that he would be raping her? He feels the sting of tears and he hates that, he always hates this, but at least he understands it right now.
The door slams open.
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Radu recoils from the smell but still scans the room with urgency. This close, he senses why Quincy nearly stumbled off the leyline after the first wave hit him. He might not have empathy, but John’s thoughts are a storm front ready to become a hurricane.
Hurried on by worry and Quincy’s insistence on sending him ahead, Radu had dropped his promise not to intrude, which he right now deeply, deeply regrets. His drac reacts to John’s inner turmoil, to the flashes of memory and masterful self-torture with envisioned futures.
Rather than letting it make him flee, Radu focuses on the understanding that horror brings him, holds his breath to manage to remain, and mentally projects at John:
“I can help. Please, Quincy… your bro, will be here any moment. He sent me, he felt your anguish, and I can see it, too. See it in far too much detail, my apologies, but I understand you.”
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