Chapter 28
Previously: Obsidian: Ash and Moonbeams – Chapter 27
Arthur’s first impression is confusion- there is, after all, a man sitting on their chandelier. (Where’d he come from? How did he get there? When?)
Casually, an arm wrapped around the chain from the ceiling, a leg dangling down between the iron straps that arc out and down and partway up again like ribbons to hold up the flower head glass cups that the gaslights are burning in. The man is wearing polished black shoes and loose white trousers and a rich, red coat encrusted with silver embroidery and a matching cloak that pools down between the lights and makes Arthur concerned about fire for a moment. The clothing isn’t British, and vaguely military, with straight lines and a broad sash, like a foreign uniform.
If that wasn’t enough to make him stand out, the man’s hair is white, but he doesn’t look old. It’s also long, braided up and back in some way.
Arthur has never seen this man before in his life. He’d remember. But despite all that, he still looks somehow familiar, but he can’t place it.
Until the words he’s speaking resolve themselves in his mind, until he picks through the accent and recognizes it as the same one Vlad has, until he hears “nephew” and it falls into place who he’s looking at.
His heart jumps hard and then starts hammering, he can feel his blood draining, because… he’s looking at Radu, who is right there– inside the castle, inside the wards, and way, way too close in case of attack.
He has the urge to throw a plasma bolt, but reins it in- probably not enough power to disable centuries of voivode, so would only piss him off.
Defensive wall?
Not with Radu sitting on the damn chandelier, nowhere to attach it to to put between him and them- he doesn’t know how much good it’d do against a mental attack, either- he should really find out about that at some point, but for the moment, he shunts all his defences into mental- probably about as much use as a pane of glass against a bullet, but what else can he do except try?
Which is the point when it occurs to him that he might be the most qualified fighter currently in the room, and… well, isn’t that laughable? Absurdly, he thinks: Where’s an invisible cat to throw at your enemy while you run away? And he should probably listen to what Radu is saying, except… he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. He likes the idea of Radu leaving on good terms, in principle, but things are never that easy, so there’s got to be some great big catch there.
“I believe your invisible cat is currently on the road to, hmm..” Placing a finger over his lips, Radu seems to contemplate, “Ah, yes, Hartlepool. Something about unfinished business when I sent him on his way after he so graciously invited me into the castle. Interesting choice of knight, I have to say. Now, I am minstrel-leaning, so I am aware that I am expected to have some prejudice towards knights, but still, my beloved definitely was slumming too far below herself with that one.
“Which brings us back to the matter at hand, or rather, not at hand: This is a library; I would have expected my beloved here. So I ask once more. Nicely. Where is she?”
~
There is that smile again, and this time, Quincy realises what’s wrong with it: He’s staring a drac in the face.
He’s done that before, with Cycy, and it meant something else, but here… This is why his father called the man insane and… he wants to be angry, but he’s suddenly overwhelmed with compassion, so he says the only thing that can express that: “My drac is howling for her as much as yours is, please, we want the same thing.”
~
Right, the mind-reading- which apparently his defences do shit against, he really needs better ones, Arthur thinks- and is aware of thinking. And also… fuck fuck fuck, Gregory loose in Hartlepool- is this a problem? Do they have to do something about it?
He feels a hysterical giggle lodge in his throat. Currently face to face with the insane voivode, sorry, don’t really have capacity to deal with the demon up to whatever the fuck he’s up to.
Before they can prevent him from making worse whatever mess he’s no doubt going to make worse, they have to deal with the mess in their faces… which is Radu looking for Darcy? And since he can’t now throw the demon at the vampire, Arthur can’t help but consider how very satisfying it would be to throw the vampire at the fae and see how they like that– and whether that could work…
~
Holding up a finger to Master Lancaster, because of course he heard that thought, (and he shall make inquiries later,) same as with the lady’s frantic planning of escape routes, Radu ignores those two for the moment.
No. What did his nephew just say?
Slipping from the chandelier in one graceful motion, his wings for a mere moment spanning half the library as Radu slows his fall, at least there is enough space between the shelves for them here, there would not be in his library, he comes to stand right in front of Quincy.
Yes, bold of him to use the familiar term, but he listened in for a while. He may slight the lack of hospitality by being so barbaric as to keep his shoes on indoors, he shan’t be cruel when clearly names are important to the young man.
Let him take a closer look, let him walk inside that curious mind.
Oh sweet angels… What he finds makes him whimper.
“You poor creature. Yes, I can hear the howling, yes, I have heard my own for longer than I dare think. Do you love her for the way her drac looks at yours?”
~
Quincy has to blink, that was… intense, to put it extremely mildly, and in any other situation he would be tempted to make a snarky comment about not appreciating men inside of him, but Radu isn’t wrong. Is he? It comes out as a whimper on his side, too.
Part of him wants to not mirror anything, but both their whimpers likely are merely a manifestation of, yes, everything Radu just saw when he must have rummaged through his mind.
“I don’t know, but ever since she’s gone, it won’t stop.”
Going by the expression, Radu surprises himself with it, but he sheds a tear.
“Mine has howled louder since my brother killed my wives, too. I know what you feel. I am… sorry.”
~
Arthur really thinks his mind seriously has the wrong priorities when the sight of Radu’s wings, white and feathered like an angel illustration, gives him the thought of: “Ooooh, pretty!”, and then there’s the wolf ears appearing in his hair as he faces Quincy, which are fluffy and… fuck, he thought of them as ‘cute’, and he really hopes that Radu didn’t catch that one, because that would be embarrassing.
But anyway- Radu, even more too close for comfort than before, and also, eyes glowing red! Maybe he should focus on that, and not those ears.
Although, those look more pained than aggressive, and… are him and Quincy having an understanding? What’s happening? (Also, Vlad killed Radu’s wives? Is that the thing he’s not telling them? Doesn’t sound very like Vlad, Arthur vaguely recalls him not even being willing to bite a woman without her consent, and it doesn’t go together with the man he saw singing lullabies to wolf-Darcy.)
To Arthur’s relief, Radu seems too focused on Quincy to really care much about where Arthur’s thoughts are going at the moment.
~
Quincy would question his own emotions if he hadn’t held on so tightly to them the last week.
No, he doesn’t think Radu is manipulating him.
“Don’t be sorry. You didn’t take her away! We… took her away from you, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry for everything that happened to you. I looked at you through her eyes and… we broke the enthrallment and she still loved you. I refuse to blindly hate a man my wife loves. Please, if she means anything more to you than revenge on my father, who I will talk down into the ground for what he did to you, please, he tried, he’s useless in helping us get her back. You’re supposed to be the mastermind, please…”
Quincy has to bite his lip, just for the pain to kick him over the last part of the sentence, because the whispers are shrieking, are trying to push with everything against this admission of powerlessness, but his drac, his poor drac, the last little bit he has of Darcy, wants to hug the man, wants to trust him, so he allows himself: “Please, help me. Please, help me get Darcy back.”
~
Radu’s wolf ears press tighter against his hair and he only now even notices that the dastardly things are out again, but at Quincy’s words, he has to take a half step back.
So many options! Oh, all the avenues to use this.
Part of his mind is cackling at Vlad’s own son declaring him useless. Oh the sweet, sweet revenge in that. But… even if he swoops in and brings Quincy onto his side, gets him rallied against his brother… his brother would not care, tactics run through his veins, not family blood. What makes him think Vlad would be any different in throwing his own son away when he threw his brother away?
No, not for Vlad, not for the revenge, no! Not for hate!
For… for love. For the love he only just felt so strongly in Quincy. For the memory of what love means.
For the memory of Virág’s grin overlaid over Darcy’s grin.
For the memory of Irmentrud dancing with him overlaid over Darcy dancing with him.
For the memory of Cansu, sweet loving Cansu, overlaid over Darcy’s drac reaching out to his, no fear, nothing but deep longing.
Longing… longing… longing… Fool. Blind fool.
He did not come here for revenge. Quincy’s drac is howling, yes, he can hear it and it sounds so much like his own. He can hear them howl together in loneliness.
Fool fool fool!
Another step back. He knocks into the table, it does not matter.
He slumps on the table and Quincy jumps. Radu’s instincts and fears flare, he yelps and ducks away from the hand Quincy had extended.
No, please…
~
Arthur… very much isn’t sure what’s happening. Quincy, okay, is appealing to Radu for help, apparently going by Darcy’s interpretation, and, well, Arthur would have been dubious about that working, except… well, except it did something, Radu is looking all… defeated? Uh… afraid?
No, probably not afraid, (except the set of his ears really does look afraid to Arthur,) just… well, very much not like the scary vampire master mind, and he can’t believe he’s doing this, but asks: “…Are you… alright?”
Which is a stupid question, because obviously Radu’s not alright, and Vlad said he was insane, and… Arthur really needs to ask for a definition for that insanity, because he took it to mean ‘unpredictable and violent’, but… well, he should verify that.
~
Or maybe afraid is the right word, Quincy thinks, because Radu’s face comes up, eyes huge and looking like a wolf’s. He’s hunkered away from Quincy’s hand and whimpers again.
“Please… I do not want to hurt you and… please…” His voice breaks, he’s so obviously unable to say more.
He doesn’t need to. Quincy has started to stare down at his hand, at the expression on Radu’s face and he remembers what he was reading about the historical lives of the two brothers. He’s seen his father bristle up in entitlement to his fury, and he remembers how explicitly supportive of his molly son he had been back at the theatre.
A terrible theory forms in his mind and he pulls his hand away, tries his hardest to push the full force of his fury at what he believes his father to have done to the side, instead makes his voice soft and… and what?
What could he possibly say to a man like this? Oh, not to the man, not his rational mind, whatever the abuse and grief left of it, no, to the wolf he’s seeing, the drac, the emotions.
“You won’t hurt me. Your drac sees mine. I’m seeing yours. I trust it.”
~
Arthur tilts his head, too, because… okay, clearly there’s lots going on that he’s not getting, but the important point to him seems to be: “…You don’t want to hurt him?”
Radu seems to collect himself a bit, straightens some. His eyes stay locked on Quincy the whole time. Not for mind-control purposes, Arthur doesn’t think.
Finally, Radu shakes his head slowly.
“No. May I please offer my aid in your endeavour? I came…” He stops, shakes his head again, this time as if to clear it. (Like a wolf shaking water out of its fur. Arthur’s brain really needs to stop with the ‘adorable’ associations just because of those wolf ears.) Then Radu looks back at Quincy, “…because our dracs howl in the same melody but you are wiser in listening to it.”
Quincy steps back a little from Radu, giving him space, smiles and chuckles.
“I couldn’t if my wife wasn’t so much of a drac herself and made me listen to hers. I’m sure she’ll do the same for yours.”
“She already did. It is why I… missed her these last weeks.” Radu admits. He’s not taking a breath like a human would to compose themselves, but there’s still something of that sense around him.
There are a lot of questions Arthur has about what’s going on and all, but… is he going to look a gift voivode in the mouth after they’ve gotten nowhere for a week?
He decides that no, he’s not. Getting Darcy back is more important.
“So you wouldn’t happen to know a lot about fae and how to get them to give us Darcy back without screwing ourselves over in the process, would you?”
~
Radu stops leaning on the table and pulls out a chair for himself. He quickly surveys which books it is littered with.
“I am afraid my knowledge is no deeper than what you could have learned from these. However, as I am far more socially inclined than my brother, my approach would be different.” He changes from talking out loud to addressing them mentally. “Pardon the intrusion, but I worry as to how much the fae owners of this castle are able to hear. In any case, I would not search for the answer in books. I shall return to the Court and ask a favour of the most powerful fae I am aware of. He is likely inclined to help.”
~
Arthur can’t really fault the precaution, since they’ve been recently worried about how much the fae can hear, too. “…In exchange for what?” he asks- well, tries to think in Radu’s direction, if that’s how it works…
~
“In exchange for what all fae want: emotion. This one, however, is peculiar. Before I explain further, would either of you be so kind as to ensure I do not incur crossbow bolts or bullets? Your friend did use my lapse in composure to inform the two hunters in the house of my presence. I had sought to avoid that animosity and now worry that, should I dodge, they will see it as proof of my harbouring ill intentions.”
Radu remains seated, goes so far as to cross his legs, with a smile.
Now he does feel somewhat rude for his shoes, even though, uncivilised as these people are, they all have theirs. Still, these kinds of slights are likely lost on them, all but maybe Quincy. What a peculiar feeling, seeing another minstrel’s drac like this. It seems knightly, maybe it is a feature of dhampirs?
In either case, yes, he would prefer to have a more refined conversation rather than having his outfit ruined. He did choose a modern one for Darcy’s benefit, after all. Shame to have it pierced when she could not behold it yet.
And maybe… maybe Quincy would like to discuss the fashion thereof? He seems like a man inclined to such finery, much as the poor thing certainly is distraught.
Rightfully so, but please, he can see that the craftsmanship on the makeup is sloppy, someone is not taking the time he likely normally does. All signs of the howling being overwhelming.
Radu can relate.
~
Arthur looks around, and indeed, Mariam is nowhere in sight- he’s rather impressed with how stealthily she managed that. He slants a look at Quincy.
“…I suppose I’ll go,” he tells him- after all, it seems like Quincy is the one doing a rather good job at voivode handling here.
That gets him a bright smile. “Thank you, honey! Don’t worry; I’ll be fine over here with Radu.” Quincy grabs a chair but asks Radu first how close is too close for him.
Radu’s wolf ears look touched before they kind of… retreat into his hair and vanish again as Radu smiles back at Quincy, then indicates the chair next to him. “Please, it is the touch, not the closeness. And you are quite right, you will be fine. I promise.” Turning to Arthur he adds: “I also promise it to you. No harm will befall him. You have my gratitude for negotiating for my safety with your valiant hunters.”
Arthur raises an eyebrow, because he’s pretty sure it’s more the safety of the valiant hunters in this case, but nods in acknowledgement. “Thank you.” He considers some threatening statements about how he’s going to be mad if something happens to Quincy, but- as Quincy said, he can take care of himself. So, with only slight trepidation, he turns to leave the room, thereby turning his back to Radu, too.
While heading into the corridor the last thing he hears is Radu, in a perfectly polite tone, asking: “In an effort to not overstep any boundaries: on whom is the harem centered? Is he only your boyfriend, or is he your boyfriend by virtue of you both being with my beloved? I believe my intelligence is out of date…”
Arthur blushes, and is glad that it’s Quincy who gets to answer that question, because… because he would just stutter in embarrassment. So he rather goes find Mariam, John, and Art and tell them about the… what are these? Truce negotiations?
Checking the office for them does not garner him any results. He considers, then decides to check the weapon’s room in case they’re there to gear up for a fight.
Which seems to be exactly what’s happening when he gets there, and also, the moment he spots him, Art douses him with a vial of… is that water?
Arthur startles at the cold splash, then blinks the water out of his eyes, runs his hand over his face.
“…I’m pretty sure I’m not mind-controlled, if that’s what that was about…”
“Doesn’t work on all vampires in the first place, but none of us is a soot stain yet, so I’ll take my chances.” With that Art pulls him into a hug. “I’m so glad to see you. Did Quincy give you an opening, how fast should we move?”
John loads one more gun to growls of that fucker better not hurt his molly.
Arthur isn’t sure where to start, has to chuckle.
“…I’m not sure how, but Quincy somehow did a number on him, something about seeing each other’s drac and if Darcy loves him he can’t be all bad and now… he’s being all polite and friendly and cooperative…”
“I saw the start of it, and, excuse me, but are we just going to believe that?” Mariam is standing in the back of the weapon’s room, trying if one of the ornamental breastplates happens to be her size.
Nodding and rummaging through his hunter kit, Art agrees. “He is a social master mind; I can’t say I trust a polite minstrel.”
It’s not like Arthur hasn’t had the same thoughts. It’s Radu. He’s been told over and over again that part of what makes him dangerous is how he charming he is.
Only, the mental image he’s built from that was… Well, the way Radu was when he first arrived fits it pretty well: Someone suave, confident.
The kind of person that intimidates him, that gives him that sense of smallness. That indefinable sense of predatoriness. Like those nobles at the garden party they attended. No matter how smooth and apparently nice they were on the surface, Arthur could never trust it, could never read what was underneath.
Radu’s… oddly different?
“I mean… I want to agree, but… he looked scared. It could be a ploy, but… most conmen I’ve ever seen don’t play scared.” He feels his way through the thoughts as he speaks. “They play nice, but they don’t make themselves look weak. And… frankly, we’re pretty stumped, if he’s willing to help…”
Pressing a hand over his face before chewing on his knuckle, looking a thousand miles away for a while, Art groans. “Damn. Lucy says to go for it.”
Arthur sighs in agreement. “He’s in the castle,” he points out. “He’s inside the wards. If he wants to take us out, we’re toast anyway. I don’t think we’ve got the power between us to stop him if he got serious. So if he’s willing to play nice… I’m willing to take advantage of it.”