Full summary: Arthur doesn't believe in true love. Despite that, he still willingly accepted a hexer-for-hire job to hex some man into a deep sleep that can only be cured by a true love's kiss. His employer seemed too confident that she'll pull it off-the true-love's kiss, that is-but as usual, it doesn't work. When things go out of hand, she leaves the sleeping man in Arthur's care, cursed to sleep in all of eternity. Arthur ends up caring for him for a while, out of pity.
New fic, I know orz. I can't help myself when it hits me like a freight train. Probably the only fic I'll be committed to after Guilty Pleasure. This is a motoroilfreeway kind of story, if anyone from prev fandoms have known me. That's all I'm saying.
Most peeps mentioned in this fic will be ocs by default unless I say so. Obviously, Arthur and Alfred are UK and US respectively. It's the basics.
Arthur knew the moment that he had received that email will be the end of his peace and quiet.
It was one of the usuals, of course. It asked the basics, nothing suspicious there. He did a double-triple check to make sure, anyway because the letter was constructed too formally, too strictly and roughly like the words itself doesn't fit the sender at all.
Turns out that the mail is harmless as a fly.
Until they manage to get to your food and lay their disgusting eggs, that is.
Nonetheless, the potential employer offered quite the hefty sum and he wasn't that stupid to not accept something this simple.
I've got good words from my wide range of contacts that you are good at what you do. How much do you charge for hexes? I require the strongest you could conjure.
Arthur clicks his tongue at that. Starts typing out words and ends up erasing them all dreadfully slowly with a backspace. That was at least a paragraph already, but he's feeling spiteful today.
Yes, I could do that. How do you want us to discuss the terms?
He ends up typing. No greetings whatsoever.
This is the deep web. What kind of employer gives a shit about your lack of formality?
The stupid ones, that is.
He takes a moment to lie back down into his bed, nuzzling the soft pillow beneath his head. He had to stay up late to brew a potion and it left his neck aching, having spent six hours straight looking down as he slowly mix his ingredients in. It's annoying when people complain why potions are so expensive. It's like they think it's easy to brew one.
If you want clear skin for cheap, go buy a cleanser. And a moisturiser too. Dedicate yourself to that ritual every night. If Arthur could do it, then that guy could too.
He was just about to drowse back to sleep when he hears a notification from his laptop. He checks to see that it was the prospective employer from before.
They reply fast, he thought. It was still 5 in the morning, Arthur had yet to get his well-deserved rest from aforementioned potion-brewing session he had but he supposes not all people can do what he does.
He opens his new mail and decides to read it now, if he's willing to accept or to refer them to someone else.
9 am SHARP.
Then what follows was an address of a café fortunately not too far from where he lived.
Hell, he worked there.
Arthur checks the clock that says 5:21 am. He's got about what? Two to three hours of sleep before he had to start dressing up and preparing to leave?
He sighs, finger hovering over his touch-pad. He taps at the reply button and types an affirmative.
When the application says it was successfully sent, he closes his laptop closed, doesn't bother turning it off all the way, always leaving it to hibernate. Then he gets up, stretching. He heads towards his bathroom, he's got to shower. He can still smell the stink of the burnt human hair on his skin, sticking like disgusting perfume.
Like hell he was sleeping now, when 5 am can become 9 am in a blink of a bloody eye.
First thing Arthur realises when he sees his employer was that they're a she.
Not really unusual, not really unwelcomed. Girl employers are…fine. They're alright, he supposes. He doesn't really have any expectation from them.
What really bothers him was that she's wearing a shawl over her head. The get-up complements her sunglasses so well as she sips on her straw from a tall glass of iced coffee.
She wouldn't stop looking everywhere, from the counter, to the doors, to the people in their seats, probably looking for him before looking at her phone, probably to check the time.
A co-worker had told Arthur that she had been scaring some patrons.
She just looks so suspicious, they told him.
It brings out a tired sigh from Arthur's lips. Why do people had to be so strange about this? He was referring to his employer. She obviously had never done this kind of deal before, had she?
He shakes his head towards his co-worker, whose eyes widen. He tells him, "I'll handle her."
His co-worker brightens up at that. "Oh my g! Thank you so much!"
"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it." He sighs again as he walks toward her table.
"Miss…erm," Arthur drawls, stumbling on purpose to gather her attention to him. He thinks for a while on what her name is, having forgotten on his way to the café.
"Annalise?" She frowns, her hand previously covering her red lips settles on the table to show her scowl.
"It's Anne. Anne Margarette."
"Right," Arthur nods, like he cared and pulls an empty seat from the table so he could sit across from her, doesn't bother to ask for permission to sit whatsoever. He doesn't have time for that.
"So, what are talking about? And please, would you remove," he makes a pointed hand gesture towards her get-up, "that? It's scaring the patrons."
She scowls harder at him. "And if someone recognises me?"
"So? What would they do? Greet you?" Arthur's snark seemed to smack some sense into her. She tenses in her seat, paling as he stiffly pulls at the shawl over her head, the glasses slowly being folded into the tiny purse she had resting on her lap.
"Sorry," She says, sobered. "This is my first time, you know?"
"Right," Arthur says again, like he cared.
She winces at his tone, her eyes squinting dreadfully, afraid of another round of tongue-lashing.
"So," Arthur starts again, getting her attention back at him fully. "What are we talking about?"
Annalise bites her lip, looking at the table grimly, "So much do you usually charge?"
Arthur gives her a withering look, Are you serious? It says. Arthur made sure she had read his pricelist before she made any further move to make this official. She knows how much Arthur charges and she said it was alright. If she's asking for a bloody discount, she should consider looking somewhere else.
Hexes aren't something to take lightly. They're dangerous, not just to the target but to the caster itself. One wrong move and they could die. Not to mention it's illegal in most countries around the globe.
So yes, it will be expensive.
That still depends on what kind of spell she wanted. Which is why they are meeting right now in person, to talk about the terms and conditions.
"Right, right, I remember." She says, nodding grimly. Her hopes for a discounted bill all gone.
"What are we talking about?" Arthur drawls. He swears to himself that he would really leave if she tries to change the subject again.
Fortunately for Arthur-or unfortunately, but on why his thoughts had told him that, he doesn't know-she didn't. She appeared more interested, actually, her eyes glowing.
"I want a love spell-"
"No," Arthur makes a move to stand up, so fucking done with her shit but she stops him.
"I'm not done yet! Of course I know love spells aren't real." She grumbles in frustration. Arthur nods stiffly and goes back to his seat.
Annalise starts to inhale, about to brace herself. She started speaking quietly now, so that no one else could hear them but themselves. Arthur would've told her he already put a sound barrier over them the moment he sat down but doesn't because he's pissed.
"Hear me out first, okay? So there's this guy," She flips through her phone and shows the screen to Arthur. "I want you to put him to sleep-imagine sleeping beauty-and only true love's kiss can wake him."
Arthur doesn't bother to spare the man in the picture a proper look when he's too busy looking at his employer in disbelief.
"…true love's kiss?" He says slowly.
"Exactly!" She says, too excited to notice Arthur's reaction.
Arthur blinks, "We can just make it so that he wakes up to someone's kiss."
She smiles, almost laughing now. "No, no, you don't understand, it had to be true love. He's my boyfriend-well, ex now, that he left me for his true love." She ends her bauble with a sneer. Her hand tightening their grip on her mobile.
"It's doable, right?"
"O-of course it is, but-"
"Then I want it!" She announces, nodding to herself as she continues flipping through her phone, scrolling some pages and smiling as she taps on some.
Arthur pounds his hands on the table, "You don't understand, true love-that just doesn't happen. I thought you said you know love spells aren't real?"
Love spells aren't real. They are as fake as they come by because it's a form of black magic that needs feeling, which in turn would contradict what a black magic requires: the ability to feel nothing. The more you feel nothing—emotions- the more the spell strengthens. To be able to feel in the middle of conjuring may cause the spell to eat up at you, until your life is no more.
As for true love, however, they are a different case. To use them as an antidote is doable, it doesn't even need much work on Arthur's part when making strong hexes will and always will be his best point. Throwing away all his emotions for days aren't much of a trouble, even on normal days.
The worrying part in her request however, is that she's expecting it to work. It doesn't matter if it will work with someone else, what Arthur worries about was that she was expecting it to work with her.
As far as Arthur is concerned, true love does not exist.
Be it familial or romantic, it's not real. He had seen parents kill their own children, children who scorned their own siblings, sent their own parents in homes for the aged to rot, lovers who stab each other's backs for their own interests and gains.
People may have infatuation, but true love? To love someone unconditionally and to willingly put up everything for them at the cost of their own?
That's unlikely.
He knows in himself that Ms. Annalise here doesn't have that kind of love in her veins for that man one bit.
"Yeah, but it's okay. I love Alfred. Which is why I'm going as far as making a deal with you. Love is sacrifice. I'm sacrificing my parents' retirement money for his love."
"You're serious?" Arthur gawks. So she's desperate.
She nods. "What's your problem anyway? It wasn't like he's gonna be your problem, he's mine."
"Oh right, of course." He nods, disappointed that she doesn't notice his sarcasm, thick and buttery as he laid it thick.
Arthur sighs, deeply. This talk has drained what remains of his energy. He leans on the table to knead on his forehead. Ms. Annalise was so kind not to ask about it.
"So, when do we start?"
"When do you need it?"
"ASAP."
"Right," he starts, mind going through his inventory, just to check if he had the ingredients on stock.
"Well, you're quite lucky, Ms. Annalise."
"Margarette."
"Right. So, I have everything on stock. We can start as early as today, if you're free after this?"
She seemed to perk up at that. "Wow, really?"
"Er, yes, really." He furrows his brows, confused. Was it really so strange to hear him say that he can get it done right now? "My apothecary was a few blocks from here, we can get started."
He makes a move to stand up but she stops him.
"Wait. Do I really have to be there? Can I just give you his info and pic and you can mail me later if it's done?" She asks him. She appeared quite nervous, her hands tapping on her phone restlessly and her legs wouldn't stop crossing and uncrossing.
"Yes, you have to," Arthur tells her, about to scold her again for being so ignorant. "I can't misaim my hex because your antidote is difficult."
She remains quiet on her seat after that, avoiding his acidic stare.
"You're not scared of an apothecary, are you?"
It hits a bull's eye when suddenly perks up, face red and a big frown on her face. An injured ego.
"Of course, not! I'm just, you know…"
"Right," Arthur says and she looks away, catching his sarcasm well and true.
"Follow me," Arthur raises a hand to catch her attention whilst taking off the sound barrier around them as he does so. They leave the café, heading to Arthur's shop.
Arthur's apothecary was like any other apothecaries out there: shelves and shelves of bottled plants and animals, labelled with things like cough, common cold, stomach ache, period cramps and so on.
Annalise pokes her head into his shop warily, then moves to eye his bottles filled with frog eggs with disgust, doesn't bother to check the label and turns her head towards his shelf full of colored, clear potions. She marvels at the pink one, bubbles popping on the surface of the liquid.
"That's my own personal recipe for hemorrhoids, real popular with the men, for some reason." Arthur startles her when the witch started drawling right beside her ear.
"Ugh!" She screeches at him, disgusted. "Why would you say that?"
"You looked interested. Follow me." He leads her to the back of the counter, into his brewing room.
He's glad that he likes to clean after himself. She wouldn't have probably liked seeing remnants of his last brewery. If her reaction from before tells him.
He pulls a pot from the sink, freshly cleaned prior few hours ago and settles it on his stove.
He notices Annalise looking at his setup strangely. "That's it?" She points at his pot then to his gas stove.
"Non-sticks are easier to clean." He says as he moves around his shelves and drawers, picking the necessary ingredients.
"Any allergies with peppers, Ms. Annalise?" He hovers his fingers over his jars and aquariums of critters, all alive and twitching at him beautifully. He wonders which of them will do the job well.
He had a preference for moths, just because they're wind-elemental. Wind is generally the strongest medium-best for carrying the infestation quicker and accurately-next to water—if his employers prefer a torture, not just an infestation.
"No." She says, confused.
"And your boyfriend?" Beetle. Maybe he'll use beetles this time. They're getting quite restless today in their jars, begging for a release. He'd been spoiling the snakes lately, letting them do the work these days. People love the paralysis too much.
It takes her a longer while to answer. It pulls out a tsk, tsk from Arthur's tongue.
He had a feeling she'll regret all of this later.
But-whatever. Like she said: not his problem. Her boyfriend is all hers.
"Uh, I don't think so?"
"Good," he says. Though peppers has really nothing to do with it. He just like idle conversations when he's brewing.
It wasn't like Annalise can tell anyway, right? Haha, right.
He pours some water on an old coconut shell, mixes it well with a spoon before pouring it into the pot.
"You're not gonna turn the stove on?"
"You want to brew this yourself?" He points neatly organised mess of ingredients on his table. Annalise eyes the jar of big, black beetles, about the size of her entire thumb. The wriggle inside, pushing at each other and gnawing at tiny, soft leaves.
"No?"
"Exactly. Sit over there and wait until I call you."
"Right, so what's your wifi password?"
"mtrlfrwy009"
"Thanks."
He gets some peace and quiet after that.
It wasn't for another three more hours when Annalise calls for him from her seat, that Arthur notices that she had been leafing through his brewing notes, her phone resting on Arthur's little coffee table, connected to a powerbank.
"So how long is it going to be again?"
"It's almost over, actually."
She perks up from that, turning her head towards him, his notes forgotten. "Can I see?"
"Sure. It needs a little bit more heat, and then we're done."
She looks into his pot, and she closes her eyes when a cool steam meets her face. It smells like sweet earth after it had rained.
"Petrichor," She whispers, a smile on her face.
Arthur smiles at her, coyly. "Makes you just want to sleep, don't it?"
She jumps away from the pot immediately, hands covering her nose. "What will happen to me?"
"Nothing. This is wouldn't work without a catalyst. That's how hexes always work."
"Is this the part where I come in?"
"No, not yet. Later."
Later comes when Arthur had the potion all done and ready, transferred in to a bunny-shaped mug that Annalise coos at.
"So is that rabbit going to come alive?"
"No, why would it do that?" Arthur asks, incredulous.
"Because it's a magic potion?"
"That's not," he shakes his head. "How potions work." Then he sips at the mug, its texture warm and creamy, like his mum's favourite corn soup.
Annalise screams at him. "Why are you drinking that?"
"Because this is how it goes. It needs a catalyst. I'm the mixing pot where the catalyst goes in."
"You're not gonna eat me, are you?"
Arthur snorts. "Where the hell did you get that shit?"
She looks away, beet red, silently fuming from embarrassment. "Nowhere."
"Right," he nods, finishing his drink.
"Come here," he calls Annalise towards his cooking table, where he grabs for the jar of beetles.
"Where's his face?"
"His pic. I have it on my phone. Let me just get it." She points to Arthur's coffee table, where her phone is.
"You don't have a hard copy?"
"Do I have to?"
Arthur quirks a brow. "No, not really. But, I don't know…"
"Well, if it's okay, then it's okay with me." She turns her screen on, her apparent boyfriend already in the display.
"Here's him. Alfred Jones, age 23. He's just graduated from law school." Arthur pretends to look at her boyfriend's face. The picture was obviously cropped, definitely recent or else she wouldn't be using it right now.
"He's quite a catch, congratulations." He drones. She doesn't hear his sarcasm because she giggles and replies, "I know, right?"
He opens the jar full of beetles and points the lid at her. "Put that here."
All joy melts from her face.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes, yes, I am. Put that in there. They need to see the target's face clearly or we'll mess up."
When she refused to oblige, he adds, "Don't worry, my beetles have good eyes. They're looking forward to help you, look." He points at the lid again.
"Do you love him? Alex."
"Alfred and yes, of course I do!" She throws her phone in and Arthur was relieved that none of his pets got harmed.
"Are you ready for your true love, Ms. Annalise?" Arthur asks, poking his hand into the jar to pick a beetle and holds it to his face. They have seen her boyfriend's face enough.
Annalise smiles and nods at him eagerly. "Margaret-and I do!" She says, like a marriage vow.
"Here he is," He says, waving the beetle in the air. The sight of the creature doesn't sour the expression on her face.
That is, until he takes a crunchy bite of its head.
Then she screams.
"Why did you do that!" She said, punching him the chest. He almost lets go of the jar, if it wasn't for his firm grip.
He turns his head away from her to push the other half of the beetle into his mouth, chewing carefully around its horns before swallowing audibly, "I told you, I need a catalyst."
"Don't worry, my beetles are quite enthusiastic in serving you today, they'll do the job well." He swallows, to make sure the beetle is completely inside him. He pulls out Annalise's phone from the jar, safe and unharmed, contrary to what her face had been telling him.
She takes the phone with the tips of her fingers, carefully.
"Ms. Annalise," He calls her, "Let's write your receipt for you so we can get this all done and over with. Let's go back to the counter, alright?"
"Margarette and yes, thank you." She answers stiffly, back to business.
For a moment, Arthur fancied the idea of moving out the moment she left his store, because he knows in himself that she will return for a refund.
Because, true love, that just isn't real.
Surprisingly, I came ready with the necessary amount of research from my years as a ...well. You read the fic.
I'm not a witch tho, nor do I practice. Some of what Arthur did in there were accurate and some are off. Artistic license and all that. What arthur did was a kind of hex we call barang where you use animals to inflict injury or whatever.
As far as I know, wind is the strongest element out there. And hexers CAN misaim if someone happened to be standing in the vicinity where the target is in too. Usually, its the wind that tend to mess up. Water is accurate, from what I'd seen lol.
