A/N: Someone asked after the Harry Potter joke I made last chapter, and the answer to that is, no, no one knows he's been reincarnated/reborn. The Harry Potter books exist in the Merry Gentry world, and Galen read them. Harry made an offhand comment about Dobby and Galen responded as a fan to the books, which is just one of the reasons Harry laughed so much at it, besides Galen being silly.
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Long Chapter Is Long, btw.
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Kiss of Iron
Eight
The Sithin, the Faeries Mounds, rose out of the dying light, small mountains of velvet against the last failing beams of a sun that had well and truly set. The moon was high, a smooth and shining silver, and the air was crisp and chill, and Harry couldn't help but breathe it in deeply. Miami had been warm and humid, and, while Missouri was humid, it was a different kind. Harry wished that he'd been allowed back this time of year and just been allowed to see those he cared about. He'd have had no issue at all with that. Autumn was his Father's favorite time of the year and, despite the negative connotation sit had for Harry, he loved it just as much.
Merry stopped walking along the path and Harry stopped at her side, and the two held each others hands and just breathed.
"What's wrong?" Galen asked from where he and Barinthus had stopped, watching them, and the Twins shared a soft smile.
"Nothing," they murmured. "Absolutely nothing." They breathed in together, matching depth and speed and breath, hearts thumping as one as they closed their eyes and lifted their faces towards the darkened sky.
"The air never smells like this in California," Merry whispered; Harry hummed.
"Or Florida," he murmured back softly.
"You always did love October," Barinthus commented, and Harry wished it was truer, when he'd only ever gotten into October because of his sister's love for it. Galen was grinning.
"I took you both and Keelin trick o' treating almost every year until you got too old for it," he reminisced, and Harry grinned while both he and Merry shook their heads.
"We didn't get too old for it," he reassured the knight impishly, sharing a mischievous grin with his sister. "Merry's glamour and my illusions got powerful enough to hide what we were."
"Keelin and us went out alone after we turned fifteen," Merry added, and the Guards blinked, startled.
"You had enough glamour at fifteen to hide Keelin from the sight of mortals?" He asked; Merry nodded but Harry shook his head.
"Merry had enough glamour," he told the former god. "I had enough illusion, but I can only do small glamours." The former god opened his mouth to say something else, but something, or, well, someone interrupted before he could, voice smooth.
"Well, isn't this touching?" The male voice asked, and the foursome whirled around, Harry's left hand glowing purple ominously as his Chains reacted, stirring beneath the ground around them, making rippled like eels in shallow water before he managed to sooth them away, Magic dissipating as he stared at the man standing behind them with his small group. Galen had stepped immediately in front of Merry, but Barinthus had loomed up behind Harry, knowing better than to get between his Chains and a threat.
Cel stood in the middle of the path, wearing his midnight hair like a long straight cloak so that it was hard to tell where his hair ended and his black duster coat began. He was dressed all in black except for the gleam of his white shirt, which shone like a lonely star among all the blackness. Standing to one side of him, ready to stand in front of Harry's sadistic cousin, was Siobhan, the Captain of his Guard and his favorite assassin. She was small, the same height as Harry, but he had seen her pick up a Volkswagen and crush someone with it. Her hair shone white in the dark, but Harry knew it was more silvery and gray than white, like cobwebs and withered spider webs. Her skin was a pale, dull white, not the shining white of Cel's and Merry's, but the white of a dead fish, looking slimy and unnatural. Her eyes matched that imaging, a dull gray and filmed over. She was wearing black armor, her helmet tucked under one arm. It was a bad sign when Siobhan was in full battle armor, Harry knew, and his Chains hissed even as he smiled genially, the guise for Court coiling about him like an old friend even as he shifted his body weight away from Galen and his sister, so that, if he had to, he was ready for a fight, eyes locked on Cel's face.
"Full body armor, Siobhan," Galen noted neutrally, face smooth and calm. "What's the occasion?"
"Preparation is all in battle, Galen," the female Guard answered, voice a dry, whispering sibilance that matched her perfectly.
"Are we about to do battle?" Galen asked, voice still neutral, and Harry made a show of chuckling along with Cel when the other Prince laughed, the same, cruelly mocking laughter that had made the Royal Unseelie Twin's childhood hellish.
"No battle tonight, Galen," Cel assured, grinning, and he was, Harry could freely admit, gorgeous, just as Siobhan, though strange, had that beautiful Otherness that he adored. "Just Siobhan's paranoia. She feared that Meredith or Harkin would have gained powers in their trip to the Lands of the West and East. I see that Siobhan's fears were groundless." Harry spoke before anyone else could, and did so while smiling.
"It's good to see that the lovely Siobhan takes her duties so seriously," he said mildly, smiling as he inclined his head respectfully towards the Guard. He hated Cel, but that was no excuse to be rude towards his Guards. "And it is good to see that some things never change, Dear Cousin," he added, letting just the slightest of mocking notes into his voice, watching as Cel's eyes tightened slightly and Siobhan's shoulders grew slightly more tense, her dead-fish eyes staring at Harkin in a silent, judging way.
"Hello, Cousin Harkin," Cel greeted, a sharpness to his smile that wasn't in his tone, and Harry inclined his head in response.
"Greetings, Dear Cousin," he replied back, tone sweet and smile genial, eyes utterly neutral but clear. It was a careful balancing act he had begun, but, surprisingly, he was never bored with these Court games he and his Cousin played.
"You've cut your hair, I see," Cel remarked; Harry lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug, reaching up and dragging his hand through his short scarlet locks.
"It's much easier to take care of now," he replied easily. "Though, it leaves very little for my lovers to cling to," he added with a wicked flash of humor, watching Cel's mouth twitch, whether in amusement or annoyance he couldn't tell.
"I do not doubt that," the Prince replied calmly; Barinthus laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and spoke up.
"Why are you here, Cel?" He asked calmly. "The Queen sent us to bring Harkin and Meredith to her presence." Cel moved, gliding down the path, tugging on the leash that went from his hand to a small figure crouched at his feet. Harry struggled not to narrow his eyes as recognition rose as he stared at the figure that had been hidden behind Cel's coat and Siobhan's body.
This would not end very well, he knew, and took the smallest of steps closer to his sister as the figure unfolded from the ground, her head rising no higher than Cel's chest.
Keelin was as brown as Gran, but her hair was thick and fell in straight brown folds to her ankles. She looked human enough, but Harry knew that that brown skin was actually thick, downy soft fur. Her face was flat and featureless, like something half-formed. Her thin, delicate body had several extra arms and one extra set of legs, making her move in a strange rocking motion, just as Harry remembered her. Her father had been a Durig, a Goblin with a very dark sense of humor, the kind of humor that could get a human killed. Her mother had been a Brownie. She had been Merry's chosen companion almost from birth, and under Harry's protection as such. His little sister's best friend had all but been raised with them, ever since Merry had looked into those pretty brown eyes that first time.
When she had been raped all those years before, beaten nearly to death, so badly that her eye had been lying against her shattered cheekbone as she had struggled to breath through her crushed face, Harry had been the one to hunt down her attackers, and he had been the one to challenge them to a duel, the one to rip them limb from limb as they writhed and screams. His vengeance had been brutal, painful, and long, just as their assault had been, and he had been the one to meet Keelin's eyes and tell her she needn't fear them ever again.
Seeing her at the end of Cel's leash both infuriated him and calmed him, disgustingly enough. To becomes Cel's "pet" was a punishment, and Harry knew that this was his Aunt's punishment on his sister and himself. His sister, because seeing her best friend in such a position would hurt her, and hurt her deeply. Himself because seeing someone he had all but declared his to protect, in the possession of another, riled him in dangerous ways, and his Aunt did so love to rile him, to crack his genial mask. The fact that she had chosen this as a punishment soothed him, however, because he knew she could have chosen a far worse fate, and, while Cel was a sadist and vicious, he was also possessive and liked to show off, which meant that he wouldn't hurt Keelin too badly, all things considered.
"Keelin," Merry said, stepping away from her Guards, stepping closer, and Harry stepped so that he was directly next to her, offering her his support even as his mask didn't so much as twitch (he knew Keelin hated him for that, for his supposed apathy, even as she loved him for his protection. It was why he tried not to pull many into his realm of protection, because he could not show his emotions in Court without due cause, and showing too much was a death sentence, while too little could go either way.).
"What are you doing… Here?" Merry asked her friend, voice calm, reasonable, even mildly curious, and Harry was proud of her, because he knew she really wanted to shout, to scream. Cel drew Keelin to him in a show of mocking cruelty, stroking a hand through her hair. Pressing her face to his chest. His hand slid down her shoulder, lower and lower, until he cupped one of her breasts, kneading it, and Harry sneered beneath his mask, unseen, not even hinted at. Keelin turned her head so that her hair hid her face from Merry and, in the darkness, she was merely a deeper shadow against Cel.
"Keelin, Keelin, talk to me," Merry coaxed; Cel smirked cruelly at her.
"She wants to be part of the Court," he told Merry maliciously. "My pleasure in her makes her part of all the festivities." He pulled her closer to his body, his hand sliding out of sight and down the round neckline of Keelin's dress. "If she gets with child, she will be a Princess, and her babe Heir to the Throne. Her child would push you both back, to Fourth and Fifth in line, respectively," he goaded, smirking at Harkin, who didn't so much as twitch, continuing to smile and adding just enough disinterest into the Courtly mask to have Cel's eyes tightening in irritation at his lack of response, before the cruel Prince returned his gaze to the much more emotional Merry, who had taken another half-step forward, hand reaching uncertainly towards her friend.
"Keelin…" She said softly, beseechingly, and Harry felt his heart hurt for her.
"Merry," Keelin said, just as softly, turning her head towards the female Twin, her voice just as small and sweet as it had been last time Harry had heard it.
"No, no, my Pet," Cel crooned mockingly, hand shifting further and further into her dress. "Do not speak. I will speak for us." Keelin fell silent once more, and hid her face again. Merry seemed to still, and Harry slipped a hand over to cup her elbow, watching as she jumped slightly at it. She was shaking, her hands in tight fists, and Harry recognized her anger, squeezing her elbow softly in support.
"The Queen put a geas on us all not to tell you, Merry, Harry," Galen murmured softly. "I should have warned you anyway." Harry sent the green knight a warning look at that, telling him, silently, to speak no word about even thinking of breaking a geas. The Queen would have him tortured or executed depending on her mood, and Harry had no wish to have to care for a heartbroken sister.
"My, my, Cousin," Harry spoke, giving his sister time to realize the other Princes ploy, his wish for her to do something rash so that he could excuse Siobhan for killing her in his 'defense'. "You always seem to be surrounded by beautiful women whenever we meet. Are you trying to make me jealous, or just showing off, I wonder," he mused aloud, voice mild and faintly curious, but nothing insulting in his tone, just calmly stated fact, for it was true, Cel always surrounded himself with beautiful women, even if they were only a specifically unique beauty, like Siobhan. Cel flashed him a smile, straight white teeth gleaming, and carelessly shrugged even as he watched Merry hungrily, eager for her to explode, but she wouldn't.
"It is merely the way things are, dear Harkin," Cel purred, and Harry chuckled lowly, sounding honestly amused though he was far from it. He had inherited that ability from the Seelie Court as well, as they were truly the Court who preferred an Illusion of the thing to the thing itself, and he could mimic them as easily as a true member of their Court.
"How long has Keelin been with him?" Merry asked Galen, something sharp and calculating flashing in her eyes; Cel opened his mouth to answer and she sent him a cool smile, raising a hand. "No, don't answer, Cousin. I asked the question of Galen." Cel smiled brightly at her, and strangely held his tongue, eyes gleaming eagerly in the dark. "Answer me, Galen," Merry ordered; the green knight complied.
"Almost since you left," he told her; Harry saw it as her eyes tightened, holding back tears that made her Seelie green-and-gold eyes gleam brightly.
"My, Cousin, you do work fast," Harry interjected, giving his sister time to control herself once more, smiling genially at Cel. "It did not take you very long to scoop up my sister's lovely Lady-in-Waiting, hmm? Tell me, did you wish to have her while we were still at Court, or was it only after we left that you grew interested in lovely Keelin?" It sounded cruel, and apathetic, and nothing like Harry knew he truly was, but that is the price of playing at Court. It is all about the way you are seen, by your enemies and allies, and he would always play the part of a cruel protector and apathetic Prince, lest his heart be taken from him.
"Oh, I don't know, dear Cousin," Cel replied, still smiling as he watched Merry. "It seemed like, one day after you left, she all but gave herself to me, almost like a gift, wouldn't you say?" Harry didn't react, and, lost in her thoughts, neither did Merry, though he knew she heard the words. Cel's hand slid back into view, and seeing it laying pale against Keelin's shoulder rather than in the depths of her dress gave Merry some of her control again.
"The Queen has sent me to escort my fair Cousins to her private chambers," Cel announced easily, glancing at Galen and Barinthus with a cool smile. "The two of you have an appointment at the Throne Room."
"I am aware of what I am expected to do," Barinthus replied coolly, calmly.
"How can we trust you not to harm them?" Galen asked coldly, and Harry bit back the urge to sigh in irritation.
"Me?" Cel asked, looking amused and disbelieving, but it was just slightly wrong, like an actor trying too hard, making it fall slightly flat. "Harm my fair Cousins?" He laughed, bright and amused.
"We shall not leave," Barinthus replied, voice very low and steady, and Harry could recognize the anger in it as the smell of the sea reached out and tangled itself around his senses, Magic softly rippling like a wave, lapping against his awareness.
"You fear that I will harm either or both of them, too, Barinthus?" Cel asked mockingly.
"No," Barinthus replied, stepping forward so that he stood behind and between both Twins, looming over them like a King of Old. "I am afraid that they will harm you, Prince Cel. The life of her only Heir means a great deal to our Queen," he pointed out; Cel laughed. He laughed hard and loud and long, until tears actually crept from his eyes, or he pretended at least pretended to wipe them away, Harry could not tell in the dark.
"You mean, Barinthus, that you're afraid they will try to harm me, and I will put them in their place." Barinthus leaned down and murmured, low enough that only the Twins could hear him.
"You cannot afford to look weak before Cel," he told them quietly; Harry nodded minimally. "I did not expect him to meet us. It is a bold move. If you have gained power in the Lands of the East and the West, show it now, Meredith, Harkin." Harry and Merry turned as one, staring up into the former god's face. The former god leaned closer, his hair brushing their cheeks, the scent of the ocean and something herbal and clean flooding Harry's senses soothingly, protectively.
"If we show him our powers now," Merry whispered back, "it will take away all element of surprise later on." She had a decent point, but Barinthus spoke softly, his voice the murmur of water over round stones, using his power quietly to make sure Cel didn't overhear them.
"If Cel insists that we leave and we refuse, it will go badly for us," he returned; Harry resisted the urge to frown, not liking the idea of anyone treating the sea god less than respectfully, as was his due as one of the oldest of the Sidhe.
"Since when has the Queen's Guard listened to her son?" he asked instead, and Barinthus gave him serious eyes.
"Since the Queen has decreed it so," he replied somberly, and something cold curled into a tight coil in Harry's stomach.
"I order you, Barinthus, and you, Galen, to go to your overdue appointment," Cel called, patience fading. "We will escort my Cousins to the Queen's presence."
"Make him fear you," Barinthus whispered. "Make him wish for us to remain. Cel would have access to his mothers ring." Harry turned his gaze away from the sea god to stare down the path at his Cousin, smiling genially and giving him a one-moment-please gesture, watching his eyes narrow, before Harry returned his gaze to those beautiful frozen spring blue eyes. He wanted to stroke a hand down that alabaster cheek, but he did not. To show too much favor in Barinthus was a weakness they couldn't afford.
"I gave you a direct order," Cel called sharply, voice rising over the growling of the wind as it began to pick up. It rushed through the men's long coats, whispering in the dried leaves of the trees at the edge of the field to their left. As one, Harry and his sister turned towards those trees, and Harry marveled silently. He could almost understand the wind and the trees, almost hear the trees sighing of winter's coming and the long, cold wait ahead. He closed his eyes halfway as the wind rushed and hurried, sending a small herd of newly fallen leaves skittering down the rock path past Cel and his women, to brush up against Harry and Merry's feet and legs, drawing Harry's gaze downward slowly, as if he was moving through molasses, his Magic rising in him in response as he and his sister lost themselves. The wind picked the leaves up in a swirl, like tiny hands playing against their legs, only for those leaves to be carried up and past them in a sudden burst of sweet autumn wind. As one, connected, Harry and Merry closed their eyes, and breathed in deeply.
In sync, lost in the Magic that whirled around them, that rode the wind and slunk beneath their feet, the Twins stepped together, away from their Guards and closer towards Cel, though it wasn't him that they were moving towards. It was the Call of the Land. It was happy, happy that they had returned to it, and, in a way it had never done before, the Power in the Land welcomed them. Together, the Twins spread their arms to either side, and opened themselves to the night. Harry breathed deeply as he felt the wind blow, not across his body, but through it, his fingertips just barely touching, and matching his sister's. It was as if they were the trees above, instead of just obstacles in the wind's way. They felt the movement of the night, the rushing pulse of it all. Beneath their feet, the ground went down and down and down, to unimaginable depths, and they could feel them all, and, for a moment, Harry knew they could feel the world itself turning beneath their feet, and his Magic rolled beneath his skin and made him glow, his golden sunlight lighting the dark beside his sister's moonlight.
He felt that slow, ponderous swing around the sun, though the Twins stood, feet planted firmly like the roots of a tree going down and down to the cool living earth. But that was all that was solid about them. The wind swept through them as if they were not there, and Harry's Magic slipped into it, and his glow grew brighter as it was blown from him, through him, around him. He knew, as his sister knew, that they could wrap the very night around them and walk invisible among the mortals…
But it wasn't mortals that they were dealing with now.
As one, perfectly in sync, the Twins opened their eyes and smiled, their conflicting emotions swept away on the wind, like the dead leaves that skittered and rattled as they were tossed and swirled playfully, as if by playful, invisible children. The wind smelled of those leaves, and something spicy, as if scented with something that was only half remembered, or half dreamed. It was a wild night, and there was Wild Magic to be had from it, if you could ken to it. Earth Magic can be ripped from the world by someone powerful enough, but the Earth was a stubborn thing and resents being used, Harry knew well. But, on some nights, or even days, the Earth offers Herself up like a woman willing her lover to come to her arms, and Harry had fallen into those very arms only once before, long ago, after he'd slipped away from his sister a week after their Father had been placed in the ground, and he had needed to grieve properly and alone.
It was, somehow, more powerful now, more wondrous, with his sister by his side, swept into the Earth's arms like a mother scooping her children up tightly after being away for too long.
Together, the Twins dropped all their barriers, and let the wind sweep away bits of themselves, like dust in the night, as they glowed together and rode the Magic so willingly offered. They gave themselves to the night, and the night filled them, the earth beneath their feet embraced them lovingly, sliding up through the soles of their feet, up, up, like a tree is fed, deep and quiet and cool. For a moment, their consciousness combined, and Harry could feel the flash of uncertainty that Merry had, and he swayed closer to her on instinct, and their fingers interlocked rather than brushed, and he let her feel his love, the deep well of it that filled his very being for her, the possessiveness and protectiveness and wryness of it, the exasperation of it, and he felt her wonder, her love, which ran just as deep but curled around him with dependence, and the need to stand on her own two feet, and her own protectiveness, and the two of them smiled.
For a moment, the two just stood, smiling, before, together, taking that first step, the wind urging them forward, playfully tossing Merry's hair into her face, and they laughed. They laughed long and bright, delight and joy in their glowing bodies and entwined minds, as they stepped down the rock path, towards their Cousin, the Earth moving with them, moving through the night as if they were swimming, swimming on the currents of Power.
They walked towards their Cousin, smiling, and he was afraid.
Siobhan stepped in front of him, lifting her helmet onto her head, her cobweb hair disappearing within the unrelieved black of it. Only her white hands showed, like lost little ghosts floating in the dark. She could injure or kill with a single touch of those pallid hands, but there was no fear, no worry, within the Twins as they rode the night, and, from the ground around them, Harry's Chains rose like ponderous snakes, coiling and sliding and utterly peaceful. They did not tear from the ground like they usually did, nor did they rip through the grass like impatient children with presents. Instead, they slid from the Earth, dark things glowing with the edge of purple that was his Hand of Power, and followed the Twins' progress like silent, loyal dogs.
Barinthus slid up behind the Twins, and they knew without seeing that he reached for them—they could feel him moving through the Power at their back. They could almost see him standing there, as if they had eyes at the back of their head. All the Magic Merry had ever possessed had been personal, and all of Harry's impersonal, but, joined as they were, like they once were, when they shared a womb and placenta and lifeblood all those years ago, their Magic joined, curled and rolled and mixed, becoming something More in these strange moments, entwining like lovers and littermates as one.
The Magic they were dealing with now was not personal, and was not truly theirs. They shared themselves, feeling small and insignificant as they joined with the entirety of the Earth, and it was far from a lonely feeling. They felt, in that moment, embraced, whole.
Wanted.
Barinthus's hand fell away before it could even brush them, and, when he spoke, his voice was hissed and slurred, like water over sand.
"If I'd known you could do this, I would not have feared for you," he told them, and they laughed, a fierce, joyous sound, feeling truly free. As one, they opened the door further, throwing it open as if it was a door in truth… No, as if the door, the wall it sat on, and the house it was held inside of, melted into the Power, and, suddenly, They were More, as One, Beyond what They were Before. Barinthus's breath caught sharply behind them.
"By the Earth's Grace, what have you done, Merry, Harry?" He asked hoarsely, and never before had he used Their nicknames, and it made Them smile.
"Sharing," They whispered, the very wind in their breath, and, as Galen came closer to Them, the Power opened to him without any thought from Them. The four of them stood there, filled with the night. It was a Generous Power, a laughing, welcoming presence, and no negativity could stand before it as they opened themselves to it willingly.
The Power moved outward from Them, or maybe They moved forward through something that was always there, but, this night They could sense it. Siobhan moved forward, and the Power did not fill her. The Power Rejected her. Siobhan's Magic was an insult to the Earth, and that slow cycle of life, because Siobhan stole that Life, rushed Death to the door of someone or something before their Time. For the first time, They understood, that somehow Siobhan stood outside the Cycle—that she was a thing of Death that still moved as if it Lived, but the Earth did not Know her.
The Power would have welcomed Cel, but he thought that first brush was Their doing, and he guarded himself against it. They felt his shields crash into place, holding him behind the metaphysical walls, safe and unable to share in the bounty offered. But Keelin did not close herself away from it. Perhaps she did not have the power to do so, or perhaps she didn't want to, either way, They felt her in the Power, felt her open to it, and heard her voice spill out in a sigh that mingled with the wind that swept and danced and swirled around them. Keelin walked to the end of her leash, raising each of her four arms wide to the welcoming night…
Cel jerked her back by that leather leash, and They felt her spirit crumble, and, the Part of Them that was Harry rose up like an avenging angel, the Protectiveness that was such an integral part of his Being rolling through the air itself like a living thing, and the Power replied in agreement. Together, They reached out Their hands, the ones not entwined together, and reached towards Their friend, and the Power spilled outward on its own, with no control of Theirs, and surrounded Keelin like a protective mother bear. It pushed at Cel like water pushes at a rock in the center of a stream, something to go around, to ignore. The push made him stumble back and away, out of reach of Keelin, who remained shrouded in the Power, and the leash fell from his hand. His pale face rose to the rising moon, and stark terror showed on that handsome face, and, within the Being They had Become, a petty pleasure rose.
The Power flexed around Them, like a mother's hand tugging on the arm of a naughty child, and They felt chastised. There was no room for pettiness in the midst of such… Life.
Keelin stood in the center of the path, arms wide, head thrown back so that the moonlight shone full upon her half-formed face. It was a rare and treasure moment for Keelin to show her face clearly in any light, though They knew her to be beautiful.
Siobhan came for Them in a dark flash of white hands and the dark gleam of armor. They reacted without hesitance, without thought, pushing Their unclasped hands forward as if that great, sluggish Power would respond to Their gesture, but, to Their surprise, it did. Siobhan stopped as if she'd come against a wall. Her white hands glowed with a pale flame that was not flame at all. Her power flared against something that not even They could see, but They felt her coldness trying to eat the warm, mobbing night, and she had no power here. If she had been among the Truly Living, if her touch had brought Ordinary Death, the Earth would not have stopped her. The Power was more Neutral than that. It loved Them in a way, Welcomed Them back, but it would have Welcomed Their decaying body to its warm, worm-filled embrace just as readily, and it would take Their Spirit on the wind and sent it elsewhere…
But Siobhan's Magic was not Natural, and she could not pass. Understanding even that much, might, might, give Them the key to her Destruction, but that was going to take someone more adept at offensive spells that Them to unravel the key, or more luck than even the Part of Them that was Harry would be able to find.
There was movement beyond Their group; Cel and Siobhan turned to see this latest threat, and when they saw it was Doyle, their bodies didn't react. The Prince and Heir to the Dark Throne, and his personal Guard, were afraid of the Queen's Darkness. That was interesting. Three years before, Cel had not feared Doyle. He had feared none but his Mother, and even then it was not Death he feared, because he was all she had to pass her blood along.
Her only child.
Her only Heir.
No one challenged Cel to a Duel, ever, because you dared not win, and to lose might mean your own death. He'd passed through his three centuries of life untouched, unchallenged, and unafraid, until now.
They saw it now, Cel's unease, almost felt it, and wondered at it. Why was he afraid now? Why?
Doyle was dressed in a black, hooded cape that swept around his ankles and his all of him from sight, despite the wind that still spread Them through the air. His face was so dark that the whites of his eyes seemed to float in the black circle of his hood.
"What goes on here, OPrince Cel?" He asked, and They shared a memory together, the Part that was Merry sharing the feel of his tongue in Her wounds, of his heat between Her legs, and They shivered. Cel moved off the path so he could keep Doyle and the rest of them in sight, and Siobhan moved with him. Keelin remained on the path, but even so, They felt the Power fading away, as if the Power was the wind, sweeping away and moving past Them to travel elsewhere. It gave Them a last, cool, spice-laden caress, and slipped away.
Suddenly, They were no longer Them, consciousness unwinding, Magic separated, reluctantly, and they were Harry and Merry again, solid and singular in a way that was almost painful even while it was comfortingly familiar. There was a price for all Magic, but not this one, Harry noted, as he breathed in the cool night air and settled more firmly into his skin, his skin no longer glowing like golden sunshine, his sister no longer looking like she'd swallowed the moon. The Magic had offered itself, they hadn't asked, and so there was no price, beyond the vaguely empty tiredness of being separated from one another again.
Keelin came down the path towards the Twins, her primary hands held out to them. She was smiling, and that awful, pinched fear was gone, swept away on the sweet winds, and Merry stepped forward to take her friend's hands in her own. They kissed each other twice, once on each cheek, before Merry drew her into her arms and hugged her close, and Harry smiled as he wrapped the two of them within his own, his Chains rising out of the dark, gleaming still with his purple magic as they lazily coiled around them, a protective shield against the dangers around them, before dissipating into shadows and purple mists.
Harry didn't know which of the two women thought it, but an image rose in his mind that was not his own, and image of Cel and Keelin, and he closed his eyes to better push it away, breathing soft and deep to hold himself in check, less he lose himself and punch his Cousin in the face. He bowed his head forward, resting his forehead on the two in his arms, and knew Merry was crying. In some twist of genetics, Keelin couldn't cry, lacking tear ducts, and that had always made Merry cry harder when it came to her friend, as if her tears could make up for Keelin's lack.
"It's all right, Merry," Keelin told her gently, her sweet almost birdlike voice comforting. "It's all right." Merry just shook her head, pulling back so she could clearly see her friends face, and Harry took the chance to press a kiss to Keelin's forehead, and then to his sisters, before he pulled away to allow them privacy, stepping back and returning to Barinthus's side, slipping his arm around the former gods waist without a thought, leaning into his strength and closing his eyes.
"Are you alright, Harkin?" the ex-god asked softly; Harry hummed, setting his head against the Guard's chest, breathing in the salty scent of the sea and feeling the soft, unconscious ripples of his Magic, like the waves of some distant, soothing body of water.
"I am fine, Barinthus, no worries," he murmured, and opened his eyes to watch his sister and her best friend part slowly, Merry trying not to cry and Keelin unable to, and watched Keelin turn and slowly make her way back to Cel.
"I am sorry, Meredith," Barinthus told her quietly; she shook her head as she joined them.
"Don't be sorry for me, Barinthus," she told him, voice tight and regret bright in her eyes as Harry just barely kept himself from drawing her into a hug, recognizing that, if he did, she would fall apart, and now was not the time. "I am not the one at the end of Cel's leash." Galen touched her shoulder, and started to hug her, but she moved away from him, shaking her head. "Don't, please," she managed, breath hitching on a half-sob even as she smiled weakly at her green knight. "If you comfort me, I'll cry."
"I'll try to remember that for future reference," Galen tried to tease, flashing her a quick smile and, despite his reservations about the Guard, Harry couldn't help but like him in this moment, watching as he managed to get a weak, watery laugh from Merry.
"Doyle glided down the path towards them, and Harry watched him as he pushed his hood back. It was impossible to tell where his hair and his hood began or ended, but Harry could see that the front part of his hair had been gathered in a small bun in the center of his head, leaving his exotic pointed ears bare, and the memory his sister had shared when they were One came back with a vengeance, making his breath catch and his blood heat. Barinthus chuckled softly from beside him, and Harry didn't think about it before he smacked the man in the chest with a huff, and continued to watch the Queen's Darkness approach them, until he finally came to a stop before their group.
"Barinthus, Galen," he said, deep voice calm and neutral. "I believe our Prince gave you orders." Barinthus moved forward, out of Harry's grip, to stand towering over the smaller man, and Harry tilted his head to enjoy the look of them together.
"Prince Cel said he would escort his Cousins to the Queen," Barinthus informed Doyle calmly. "I thought that unwise." Doyle inclined his head in agreement.
"I will escort them to the Queen," he informed the former god seriously, looking past the god toe Merry and Harry and, as difficult as it was to see in the dark, Harry thought he gave a small smile to them. "I believe that our Royal Prince has had quite enough of his Cousins for one meeting. I did not know you could both call the Earth." Together, Harry and Merry shook their heads.
"We didn't call it," Harry corrected mildly, leaving Merry to finish the sentence.,
"It offered itself to us." Harry heard the Captain draw a long breath and let it out slowly, but his face never shifted from its usual blankness, despite the flash of unknown emotion that crossed his eyes.
"Ah, that is different," Doyle murmured calmly. "In some ways not as powerful as those who can wrest the Earth from her course. In some ways more unsettling, because the Land welcomed you home. It acknowledges you. Interesting." He turned his focus to Barinthus once more. "I believe you are wanted elsewhere, both of you," he added with a glance at Galen. His voice was very quiet, but underneath the ordinary words was something dark and threatening, and Harry shivered in anticipation, though he was uncertain if it was for something good or bad.
"Do I have your word that they will come to no harm?" Barinthus asked him, and Galen stepped up next to the former god. Asking such things was almost the same as questioning orders, which could very well get you flayed alive. Harry hoped Barinthus knew what he was doing, because if the former god got himself executed for the Twins' sake Harry would be extremely irritated.
"Barinthus," Galen started; Doyle interrupted him.
"I give you my work that they will arrive in the Queen's presence unharmed."
"That is not what I asked," Barinthus retorted without hesitation; Doyle stepped close enough to Barinthus that his cloak mingled with the taller man's coat.
"Have a car, sea god," Doyle warned lowly, "that you do not ask more than you should."
"Which means that you fear for their safety at the Queen's hand, as do I," Barinthus replied, voice neutral; Doyle raised a hand that was outlined with green fire, and, in response, Harry's own instinctively lit with purple, Chains hissing from the shadows surrounding them, and ominous, rattling noise, like the final breath of a dying man, even as Merry started towards them. Doyle watched her, while Harry and Barinthus kept their eyes on him. Galen stepped between Merry and the two Guards, and she gave him a sharp look.
"Step aside, Galen," she ordered him calmly. "I don't plan to do anything foolish." Her green knight hesitated, but then obeyed. She stepped up so that she was directly beside the two, Doyle's green flames reflecting across her moonbeam skin and making her Seelie eyes glow fetchingly, even as Harry's Chains slithered onto the path beyond the Queen's Darkness, ready to strike and constrict the Captain of the Guard without hesitation, the sinister hooks on their ends glinting with ominous purple magic.
"Stop it, both of you," Merry ordered the two men, shaking her head.
"What did you say?" Doyle asked her mildly, and Merry moved, shoving Barinthus back hard enough that he stumbled, which, in a different situation, would have had Harry grinning, but the tension he felt at the sudden action had his Chains jerking closer, held back only by the knowledge that his sister wasn't stupid. Silently, the Prince watched as his sister continued to shove the former god, again and again, until enough distance lay between the men that there was no longer a risk of violence between them.
"You have been ordered once by the Royal Heir, and once by the Captain of your Guard," Merry told him firmly, frowning up at Barinthus seriously. "Obey your orders and go. Doyle has given you his word that Harry and I will come to the Queen in safety." Harry watched the former sea gods neutral expression as he stared down into Merry's eyes, before those frozen-spring eyes turned to him, and his breath threatened to catch in his chest. Those weren't the eyes of Barinthus, not the eyes that made his blood heat and his head spin. Those were the eyes of the Kingmaker, the one who knew that Doyle stood between him and the Queen's demise, the one who would rather see Merry or Harry on the Throne than any other, who would have gladly killed both Queen and Royal Heir to place Essus upon the Throne. Those were eyes that were considering the pros and cons of killing Doyle here and now before continuing onward.
"No," Harry told those eyes, voice hard and filled with the command of his station, and those frozen eyes stared at him, slit pupils thin. "No." Those eyes turned back to Doyle, and watched as the Queen's Darkness turned his free hand so that it came to rest together with the burning one to form a single wick with both hands. Harry stalked forward and joined his sister in time to step clearly between the two men, holding Barinthus's eyes sternly as Merry put her back against his trustingly.
"Cut the theatrics, Doyle," she ordered firmly. "We're coming." As she walked towards the Darkness, Harry turned and walked just behind and to the left of her, his left hand glowing faintly purple as he held tightly to the reigns of his Chains. He stopped as Merry stepped directly in front of Doyle, hands cupping his elbows, and moving her hands slowly up his forearms.
"Seeing Keelin has taken some of the heart from me," she murmured softly, "as Andais knew it would, so take me to her." Her hands were caressing his bare skin now, glowing against the unrivaled darkness of his skin.
"The Land welcomes you, little one, and you grow bold," Doyle commented calmly; Harry chuckled lowly.
"That wasn't bold, Doyle," he corrected the man, watching as his sister's small hands neared that deadly green flame, the same color as the Killing Curse for a reason.
"This," Merry whispered, green-gold eyes gleaming brightly, "is bold." Immediately after the words had left her mouth, she leaned close and blew on the flames while sliding her fingers sharply towards it. The flames vanished as if she'd blown them out, which Harry knew she had not, for Doyle's eyes were wide and slightly panicked but, from where he was, Cel, who was watching, could not tell such a thing, and only saw Merry blowing out the Killing Flames of the Queen's Darkness, and he was frightened.
"You are mad," Doyle breathed; Harry shook his head.
"You gave your word that we would reach the Queen unharmed," he corrected the Guard easily. "You always keep your word, Doyle."
"You trusted me to not harm your sister, to not harm you," the man said, first to Harry and then to Merry, and the two of them nodded.
"I trusted your sense of honor, yes," Merry agreed easily, and Doyle glanced back to where Cel, Siobhan, and Keelin stood, watching them. Cel's handsome face was pale with his fear and, when Merry teasingly blew him a kiss, he jumped, as if she had thrown a blade at him through the wind, and Keelin cuddled close with eyes that were far from friendly. Siobhan stepped in front of them, and this time she drew her sword in a shining line of cold steel. Harry replied in kind, instinctively, letting his Chains glow brightly so that they could be seen, showing both the ones that had encircled their group, the ones posed to attack Doyle and Barinthus in kind…
And the ones that encircled and trapped Cel and his group, which rose from the shadows like the arms of a great Kraken, ready and willing to wrap around their victims and crush them to death, hooked blade gleaming ominously as the air filled with hissing metal and rumbling stone. Doyle grabbed Merry by the arm, his other reaching out to sharply grab Harry's left wrist, hard enough to bruise, and turned them away.
"I do not want to fight Siobhan tonight because the two of you frightened your Cousin," he growled, and the Twins laughed, Merry's edged in bitterness and Harry's edged in cruelty.
"Don't forget that we've frightened poor Siobhan, too," Harry purred, and looked back to give his Cousin and his troupe the same genial smile he held at Court, Chains weaving and swaying in the air around them ominously. Doyle's hand tightened on his wrist to the point that Harry felt his bone shift, threatening to crack.
"That's much more impressive than frightening Cel," Merry agreed with him darkly, and Doyle shook the two of the, once, hard.
"And more dangerous," he hissed, and released them so suddenly the Merry stumbled and Harry bit back a flinch as he felt the tell-tale pain of a fractured bone. The only thing that kept either of them from falling was a quick hand on the elbows before the Captain once more released them, glancing over his shoulder at their Guards.
"Barinthus, Galen, go, now!" He snapped, and there was true anger in his voice now, and Harry felt a dark pleasure in the fact that his sister had so unnerved the man, and, catching her glinting gaze, knew she felt that same pleasure. Doyle once more took Merry's elbow, and wrapped his hand firmly around Harry's wrist, making the Prince grit his teeth at the sharp pain that shot up his arm as the Guard proceeded to lead the two of them away, going too fast. Merry stumbled, and Doyle had to catch her again, thankfully releasing Harry's wrist to do so.
"You're going too fast for the shoes I'm wearing," Merry informed him firmly, and Harry moved to stand just out of his arms reach, shifting his left arm so that the ruffles on his sleeve safely encased and hid his no-doubt swelling wrist from view. It would be difficult to hide the injury for too long, and, until he had a chance, he couldn't pull up an illusion to hide it from the senses of those around him, and himself, so he would just have to suffer through it. He'd suffered through worse without being able to show pain, so it as easy enough to preserver.
"You should have worn something more sensible," Doyle told her as he slowed his sharp pace, and Harry slipped back and around him to slide up to his sisters side, keeping his injured wrist well away from anything that might brush it and, absently, releasing his Chains back to shadows and vapors, not even glancing back to watch Cel and his group to see their reactions. He would have plenty of fun with that later.
"I've seen the Queen for a Sidhe to strip and go naked to the banquet when she didn't like their clothes," Merry pointed out tartly, firmly. "So forgive me, but I want her to like the outfit… Give me your arm, Doyle," she ordered, trying to reason with him. "Escort me like a Princess, not a prisoner." He slowed again, looking at her from the corners of his eyes.
"Are you quite done with your own theatrics, Princess Meredith?" He asked mildly; she nodded.
"Quite done," Harry agreed easily, fiddling with his ruffles in an absent was as he let his eyes drift around. Doyle stopped and offered Merry his arm, which she accepted easily, before arching an amused brow.
"A little cold for short sleeves, isn't it?" She asked him; he glanced at her, eyes trailing down her body, and Harry smiled a little at the tension that began to rise between the two, before the smile faded into heat as the memory they'd shared resurfaced again.
"Well, at least you chose well for yourself," Doyle told her, and Merry put her free hand over top of his, as if she was hugging his arm to herself.
"Do you like it?" She asked, smiling prettily up at him, and Doyle looked down at her hand, only to still, making the Twins stop as well to focus on him. The Guard grabbed her hand, and, as soon as his skin touched that silver ring and Harry watched as a spark of magic erupted from it sharply, the ring recognizing Doyle much like it had himself, Galen, and Barinthus. The Guard ripped his hand away as if it had hurt, rubbing it with an unreadable look crossing his features.
"Where did you get that ring?" He asked, voice strained, and Merry glanced at Harry for a moment.
"It was left in the car for her," Harry told him mildly, thoughts hidden behind his genial mask; Doyle shook his head.
"I knew it had gone missing," he murmured, "but I did not expect to find it on your hand." He looked at her, and, had it been anyone else, Harry would have sworn he looked afraid. Perhaps he was, like Barinthus had been, a more fear for the future than of the ring itself. Whether it was real or not, however, the expression disappeared almost before either Twin could blink, and his face became smooth and dark and unreadable once more, before he gave Merry a formal bow and offered her his arm like a gentleman would. Merry accepted it with grace, and they continued once more down the path, Harry remaining on his sister's left side so that she was between them, his eyes still drifting about, watching the darkness around them in silence as he steadfastly ignored his aching wrist.
A fractured wrist would be the least of his worries if they were late to see their Aunt, after all.
A/N: It's just like I said, you know?
Long chapter is long.
Please give me feedback, thank you!
