Disclaimer: The Keys to the Kingdom series does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Garth Nix, etc.
emerges from the dead HELLO you can thank kind people on tumblr for this mess. an anon prompted Arthur/Dusk returning to the House like a year or more ago and then another kind user poked me about this 'verse again and I found this fic mostly-finished on my hard drive
probably the last fic I'm going to write in KttK but you never knows shrugs
also the title is 100% facetious ofc I just couldn't think of anything decent :'))))
Triumphant Return
Dusk vacillates between thinking that returning to the House will be a great idea and imagining exactly how much of an unmitigated disaster it could be. On the one hand, Art would be happy to see his semi-mortal counterpart again, as would most of the other Denizens who remember about the Original House. But on the other hand... well, Dusk made some mistakes (not that he regrets them, exactly) and his siblings were treating him like a non-entity, not to mention that Arthur's still nursing some resentment towards Art, though Dusk's not entirely certain how deeply that goes.
"Let's just get this over with," Arthur mutters, squaring his shoulders.
"Right," Dusk agrees, squeezing Arthur's hand.
Neither of them make any attempt to enter Monday's Postern.
"Are you coming through or not?" Fred asks a few minutes later, poking his head out of the darkness. "I mean, no pressure or anything, but it's kind of annoying keeping this part of the Front Door manifested."
"Oh, well, if it's an inconvenience," Arthur says a beat later, grinning. He steps forward and Dusk follows, slipping into the darkness of the Front Door.
"Thanks so much," Fred says, grinning back.
"Sunday mentioned that Art was thinking of bringing the old Morrow Days back," Arthur remarks as they travel through the Door.
"Yeah, apparently," Fred says. "I'm not exactly up to date with that stuff. You'd think he could appoint a Lieutenant-Keeper or something if he's got time to try bringing them back."
"Maybe he could bring back the original Lieutenant-Keeper."
Fred glances at him sidelong. "I suppose this sword is like the Keys," he says, his hand settling briefly on the hilt of his blade.
Dusk glances at Arthur, but his face is set in a neutral expression; sometimes, Dusk can anticipate the path of his thoughts, but this is not one of those times.
"Well," Fred says a few moments later, "here we are. Doorstop Hill."
"I hope there's not a welcoming committee," Arthur says blandly.
"I'm sure you won't get drafted again," Dusk says; to his relief, Arthur laughs.
"I never did finish my century of service..."
"Neither did I," Fred puts in. "I don't even know if the Army is operating like that anymore. And I don't think there's a welcoming committee. There's only three people standing outside. Is three big enough for a committee?"
They both look at Dusk expectantly.
"I don't believe so," Dusk says. "Committees cannot exceed twenty members, and can never consist of exactly eight. I think three is too few, however."
"Well, there you go: it's not a committee," Fred says. "You want me to come?"
"That's all right," Arthur says. "I think we have to do this on our own."
Fred blinks, then grins at them. "Fair enough. See you later, then." He salutes them then steps into the darkness.
Monday, Art and Suzy are waiting for them. It could probably be worse; Dusk was half-expecting his siblings to be present, or perhaps Sunday, to be cutting and break the tension. Actually, Sunday's presence would probably be a boon in this situation.
"Arthur," Suzy says, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace. He hesitates perceptibly, then hugs her in return. Art hangs back, glancing between Suzy and Arthur.
Dusk smiles at Arthur over Suzy's shoulder and goes to greet his (former?) master, who has elected to hang back from the others.
"You're looking better, Dusk," Monday says. He looks and sounds pleased, but his hands twitch at his sides as if he cannot decide what to do with them. Dusk hesitates for a moment, then extends his hand to shake; Monday takes it immediately.
"Thank you, master," Dusk says, though the title feels strange in his mouth. It no longer has that ring of truth; Dusk might still retain his black tongue and the increased power that comes with his status as a Time, but he does not feel particularly loyal to the Denizen before him.
Monday's smile turns a bit rueful. "Just Monday, I think; and you are Dusk."
Dusk nods, a weight he had not realized he was carrying suddenly lifted. "Will you appoint another?"
"I do not see why," Monday says. "The Lower House continues as it has since its inception in the New House. The Incomparable Gardens are maintained by Lady Suzy and Sunday alone. Between your siblings and me, there should be no problems."
"Of course," Dusk says.
"You are always welcome, though," Monday says. "I know you were unhappy here, but if you ever wish to return, you will be welcome." Dusk must make an expression sufficient to convey his skepticism, for Monday hastens to add, "I am serious. Your siblings- well, you are still their brother."
"Right," Dusk says.
"Perhaps you should go visit them," Monday says, gently. "I know they are waiting in your former home. They wanted to come, but Lady Suzy vetoed it." He leans forward slightly, his voice dropping conspiratorially: "She said any more and we would scare you off."
"She wasn't wrong," Dusk says, glancing over at the three former mortals. Art and Suzy are standing beside each other with Arthur facing them. Arthur's expression is polite enough if an observer doesn't know him terribly well, and his hands are in his pocket. Art looks very pleased, though Dusk is hard-pressed to gauge his sincerity. Suzy is difficult to read as well; while he knows that she is the same girl that was his assistant in the Old House, she is changed, and Dusk can no longer claim to know her.
Arthur looks over at him, eyebrows raised.
"I was going to go visit Dawn and Noon," Dusk says as he and Monday walk to them. "Did you want to come?"
"No, you go. We can meet up later," Arthur says.
Dusk tilts his head slightly; while Arthur doesn't look like he's seeking an escape, he doesn't exactly look comfortable either.
"I'm serious," Arthur says. "Monday can always tell me where to go when we're done here."
"All right," Dusk says. "I'll see you later."
The walk to the residential district is familiar, which is equal parts comforting and not. It leaves Dusk entirely too much time to think about the imminent reunion as his feet take him to the quarters he shared with Dawn and Noon. Even taking the most circuitous route feels like an insufficient amount of time to come to terms with meeting them, but on the other hand Dusk has no wish to drag the anticipation any further.
He pauses outside the door, his fingers curled around the handle. Outwardly, the house looks unchanged. He imagines it is the same inside; perhaps a layer of dust has settled over everything in his dark room.
Dusk draws his hand back and knocks instead, three brisk taps.
The door opens almost immediately, which leaves him to wonder if his siblings were watching him lurk uncomfortably outside.
"Brother! It's good to see you," Dawn says, smiling, before he has the chance to consider that for too long. Noon is standing just behind her, smiling as well.
Dusk blinks at the unexpectedly cheery greeting. "And you, Dawn," he says automatically. "Noon."
"Well, come in," Noon says. "Tea?"
"Yes, thanks." Dusk steps inside and closes the door behind himself. As he'd thought the interior is largely unchanged. There is a chess set on the coffee table, the pieces arrayed across the board; were they playing before he arrived? Dusk shakes his head, cataloguing the rest of the large room that the siblings shared. Everything else is as he remembers.
The tea is prepared in silence, Noon perfectly recalling how Dusk prefers to take his tea, and Dawn sets out a plate of dainties. From the exquisite craftsmanship, Dusk assumes that Sneezer made them. The Times are proficient at baking, but none of them can ice a cupcake so delicately.
Dusk takes a cookie and eats it, sipping periodically at his tea, before he gathers himself enough to say, "I thought you would be angry to see me returned."
"We were angry at first," Noon acknowledges, "but then we just kept with it because we thought being in a situation similar to the one from the first House would help you regain your memories."
Dusk stares at his brother blankly, tea raised halfway to his mouth and utterly forgotten. He's never seriously considered it before but, to borrow one of Arthur's favourite phrases, his brother is a prick.
"It worked, though. You have your memories back," Dawn adds.
Dusk transfers his blank look to her; she cannot possibly be- no, she seems to be completely serious. His siblings are pricks. "I don't think your behaviour had anything do with my regained memories," Dusk says finally, his tone perfectly level.
Whatever his siblings are planning to say, if they even have a response to that, is interrupted when the front door suddenly opens.
"I hope this is the right place," Arthur's muttering to himself as he walks in. His expression goes blank when he sees the other Times, who both stand up.
"Lord Arthur," Noon says, bowing. Dawn curtseys.
"Just 'Arthur' is fine," he says stiffly, starting to close the door behind himself. "Also, hide me-"
"There you are, Arthur," Art says, walking in with an unimpressed Sunday in tow.
Sunday mutters something like "great, a family reunion," and looks, if possible, even less impressed than he had before.
Dusk tries to think of an excuse to escape the supremely awkward situation but his mind stubbornly comes up blank.
"I have- things- to attend to. Paperwork," Noon says vaguely, "you know how it is."
"Unfortunately," Sunday says distastefully. "One would imagine the principal servant of a Morrow Day would have better things to do than paperwork but one would be wrong." Dusk can't tell if he's being bitter about his demotion to Sunday's Noon and attempting to commiserate with his Lower House counterpart or if he's poking holes in his brother's admittedly flimsy excuse.
"I'm sure it can wait," Art says. "There wasn't much notice, of course- not that that's a problem, it's really not," he adds anxiously to Arthur, "but I talked to Sneezer and he made a bit of a dinner for us."
Arthur blinks at him.
Dusk wishes that Nithlings would bubble up right then, in the middle of the Lower House and create a distraction from the second-hand embarrassment he's experiencing. Or maybe if the Void just opened directly beneath his feet and swallowed him up, that would be an acceptable alternative.
"That's why I'm here," Sunday says after several seconds, turning to Dusk. It seems like he's confiding in him but his tone is the same as always; he's making no attempt to soften his words or lower his voice. "Apparently I should know how to set up a reconciliatory dinner."
"I thought your brothers were locked up for millennia or thrown into Nothing," Dusk says before he can stop himself.
Sunday nods. "Yes."
"To say nothing of what happened to your parents," Dusk adds.
"Indeed."
"Anyway!" Art claps his hands together once, as if to bring the conversation to a close. "It's nothing big but dinner's in an hour in Monday's Dayroom so I hope you'll all be there." He grabs Sunday's upper arm and starts to drag him away.
"By the way," Sunday says, "you're looking better, Monday's Dusk. I'm glad." He smiles vaguely.
Dusk shudders, utterly unnerved, but thankfully the door closes before Sunday can traumatize Dusk any further.
"I think he was serious," Arthur says. "I mean, it's hard to figure out sarcasm over the phone and everything and it's not like I really know him beyond that, but he seemed sincere."
"Sincere or not, that was exceedingly-" Dawn mutters, staring at the corner of the street around which Art and Sunday had disappeared. She seems unable to finish the sentence.
"-creepy?" Dusk supplies, shuddering again.
"Yes."
"I really do have paperwork," Noon says.
"No, you don't," Dawn says, grabbing the back of his collar before he can sneak out the door.
"I could. I've been away for some time-"
"-a few hours," Dawn scoffs.
"So," Arthur says, "I heard you were shunning Dusk."
"Shunning is a strong word," Noon says a few seconds later.
"Yeah, it is."
"Tea, Arthur?" Dawn asks, her voice a bit too loud.
"I prefer coffee," Arthur says.
Dawn and Noon both look disgusted, which is a good approximation of Dusk's reaction to that revelation as well. He's made his peace with it since then, though.
Abruptly, Arthur starts laughing. "That's the exact face Dusk made when I asked him to try it."
"You coerced me," Dusk says. "I trusted you."
Arthur smirks at him, utterly unrepentant.
"We don't have coffee, unfortunately," Noon says, though he doesn't make it sound like an unfortunate thing.
"That is unfortunate," Arthur agrees, turning back to them.
"There are snacks," Dawn adds. "I know Ar- er, everyone likes Sneezer's cookies," she says, quickly changing whatever she was about to say about Art when Dusk shakes his head at her.
Arthur looks between Dusk and Dawn, eyebrows raised. "I seem to remember something about cookies," he says, and sits down in the chair beside Dusk's.
"So, what was with you two shunning your brother?" Arthur asks blandly as they're walking to the Dayroom for the (dreaded) dinner.
Dawn and Noon look almost comically startled. Dusk had considered warning them that the subject was nowhere near forgotten, but he wasn't feeling that charitable.
"We were angry," Noon says. "It was unfair, especially because Dusk did not remember, but that is why."
Arthur sneers angrily; Dusk's only seen him do it a few times. "I figured as much."
"It... was not much different from how we treated him in the Old House," Dawn says. "We convinced ourselves that continuing to treat Dusk like that would help him regain his memories."
"Wow," Arthur says.
Dawn and Noon both look mildly ashamed.
"... I didn't know," Arthur says a bit later. "That things were... how they were."
"You did not know a lot of things," Dawn says, not unkindly.
Arthur huffs a laugh. "Yeah. Most people didn't, apparently."
"What happened to the Dayroom," Noon says, stopping in his tracks. Dusk has to skip to avoid walking into his back and ends up in front of the others, half-turned towards them; he can't see the Dayroom, but he can see the horrified expressions on his three companions' faces.
"Ugh," Suzy says, walking out of an elevator that has suddenly appeared right beside them. "Who decorated that, Giac isn't allowed to decorate anymore."
"Should I look?" Dusk asks.
"No," Noon says at the same time as Dawn goes, "Don't."
"I'll take care of this," Suzy says, and walks off determinedly.
"Is it really that bad," Dusk says, turning his head to look. Arthur cups his cheek before he can make it, however, and gently turns him back.
"Yes," Arthur says earnestly, "yes it is."
"I thought the decorations were fine," Art mutters sulkily when they're all seated at the table in the main room of the Dayroom. It has helpfully converted itself into a dining room table. "Perhaps not as nice as they could have been if I'd had more time to whip something up, but-"
"They were awful," Sunday says. "Awful."
Monday looks shaken, but he manages to muster a smile from one end of the table. "This is just a gathering between family," he says. "I don't think we need to stand on ceremony."
Sunday opens his mouth to protest, then cuts off with a pained noise. He shoots a glare at his neighbour, Suzy, who smiles innocently.
"Oh, here's the food," she says.
The less said about the dinner itself, the better. The food is beyond reproach, of course. Sneezer really outdoes himself. There's no shouting, and the few cutting comments that are made are smoothed over by those with cooler heads, but it's still incredibly awkward and Dusk isn't looking forward to doing it again.
They all end up standing awkwardly on Doorstop Hill. Dusk's almost completely certain that he had seen Fred approaching in the shifting patterns of the Front Door, but then he'd abruptly turned tail and disappeared again. He probably sensed the tension in the group of people loitering outside his domain.
"We should do this again," Art says hopefully. "Next Monday, same time-"
Arthur smiles but it's jarringly fake, and Dusk can't say he feels much different.
"Maybe," Dusk says. "Thank you for inviting us." He grabs Arthur's hand and pulls him through the Front Door before more concrete plans can be made.