IX: A Cause for Celebration
"Are you sure about this?" Elizaveta asked Lovino one last time in the chambers the Scribe had organised for them. "Your brother... Feliciano, well..." She averted her gaze guiltily as remorse filled her beautiful features. Being a hellhound and a member of Kerberos, she knew how often people died. After all, she was one of the people who was sent to retrieve them whenever they wandered after their passing. Then as a daemon, Elizaveta was well aware of how short the life of a human was, but that never made seeing them depart any better. Rather, the knowledge of the longevity of a human lifespan sometimes intensified the bitter sting. "Isn't it too early?" the werewolf inquired of the bridegroom. In a few moments, Lovino would be the prince consort wedded to the King of the Underworld, but only a few weeks ago he was grieving the permanent loss of his younger brother. Elizaveta wasn't sure if that was enough time for mourning.
"Arthur said that his ability doesn't include the knowledge of a soul's destination if they are exorcised and erased or after it returns to the River Vitae," Lovino responded with a wry smile, "but that doesn't mean that Feliciano's never coming back to me. Knowing the idiot, he probably landed himself a spot in God's paradise if he didn't get lost while I'm stuck here." He spoke with a joking tone, gesturing towards the window. Outside, the skies were as dark as ever with only a red moon to illuminate the sky—but only if it wasn't covered with the soot coloured wisps called clouds that passed occasionally with a solemn zephyr blowing throughout the Dark Realm. "It might not be so bad to stay here every once in a while though—even though it's just a bit gloomy and shit." His eyes softened when he noticed that Elizaveta still wasn't smiling. "Hey, cheer up," Lovino requested awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck, wondering if he had chosen the wrong words to say to her. "Listen, Elizaveta, Feliciano... Felici said that he wanted to see me happy, right? Usually, usually, aren't weddings happy events? I think he would want this. He's been waiting for this day longer than I have, you know, ever since I introduced him to Arthur. He never got to see this day though, so I can't keep putting it off—not any more. Felici would probably keep being disappointed if I did."
Elizaveta's face brightened ever so slightly. She nodded her head in agreement and blinked away her tears. "You're right," she chirped merrily as she fixed her dress. It was a strapless piece with a black floral lace bodice that extended into a thin layer of a gauze-like fabric draped over a white satin skirt which was hemmed with the same black floral lace. White satin evening gloves laced with a black ribbon stretched to her elbows while sheer black stockings and strap heels with white flowers defined her slender legs. The same white flowers as the kind on her heels adorned her brown hair, which was softly curled to perfection, and a single jewel necklace was strung around her neck. "I need to compose myself."
"Still," Lovino glanced over her attire, "I never expected such a Gothic wedding—not that I'm complaining, dammit. It's as good as any other wedding as long as I don't have to wear a fucking dress."
"It's because we're in the Underworld," Elizaveta mused with a giggle. "Any other colours would stand out too much. It'd be a little strange to have a bridesmaid wearing coral pink down here, but, you know, your clothing is pretty normal."
Lovino shrugged his shoulders, which was nearly impossible because of the stiffness of his suit, and made himself shrink ever so slightly by stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black tailcoat, which was left unbuttoned over an ivory waistcoat made of a glossy fabric the same kind as the ivory tie fitted snugly around the collar of his white shirt. The black trousers were tailored perfectly to his legs, and the pair of Oxfords were polished to perfection. All of them items he wore were, of course, Italian brand names. Already, as Gilbert had teased him, Lovino was filling the role of a housewife; rather, that very role probably suited him well.
The door opened within that moment, and Marianne, Julchen, and Isabel slipped into the chamber wearing matching dresses. They all wore black dresses with a dark crimson corset that laced in the back with a black satin bow and a frilled skirt that had added volume from the wine red petticoats underneath it. Long, dark sleeves adorned with lace and ribbons covered their arms while mini top hats made of black satin, a dark crimson band, and white flowers were perched upon their heads. Like Elizaveta, they all wore sheer black stockings and strap heels that donned white flowers to match the ones on their hats. They gave Lovino an encouraging smile and raised their hands to indicate ten minutes.
"We'll get going then," Julchen informed the bridegroom promptly before taking Elizaveta by the hand and pushing her to the front. "Good luck! Don't trip!"
Marianne laughed. "I think that goes for all of us, Julchen!" she mused aloud.
Lovino gulped from the sudden pressure and anxiety, but he returned his bridesmaids' gleeful smiles to the best of his ability. His flirting habits were momentarily forgotten in the midst of his bout of nervousness. (He hadn't dropped them a compliment in the short time they visited him.) A knock on his door alerted him to another guest, and Lovino called for him/her to enter. The door parted to reveal Antonio, who was dressed in a simple black and white three-piece suit with a red tie decorated with tomatoes that appeared so out of place in such a Gothic wedding, escorted by Gilbert, who was dressed in a morning suit like the other ushers, as a form of security, seeing that the Spaniard was still very much human.
However, Antonio had carelessly made a deal with Gilbert a few months back, stating that, should he ever die, he would become a werewolf and, together with the rest of Kerberos, spend nights drinking away so that he could always be friends with the daemons he had befriended. That deal had actually meant something to Gilbert who wanted a big and growing family, and it practically sealed Antonio's fate despite how much Lovino lectured—or screamed—at the two idiots. Apparently, if one of the Four Lords had an eye on a particularly peculiar human, such as Antonio, there was no guarantee that he/she would be allowed to live as a human in his/her next life. Considering that Antonio was already on friendly terms with Gilbert, Francis, and Mathias, three of the Four Lords, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that they would just let their friend slip through their fingers.
Now, even though it's been nearly seven years since their first adventure with Arthur, Gilbert, and Mathias, time hasn't appeared to taken its toll on Antonio. The Spaniard was just as youthful and lively as any other day he's been alive. Gilbert gave Lovino a half-hearted smile that was itching to break into one of his obnoxious grins in an attempt to sympathise with the latter's anxiety and apprehension before closing the door to give them a sense of privacy.
"Nervous?" Antonio inquired of his cousin.
"Who do you think I am, dumb tomato bastard?" Lovino snapped indignantly. His defences crumbled for a moment as he slumped and grumbled.,"Shit, just a little, dammit. It's not just a wedding. It's a damn coronation, too."
"You'll be fine," Antonio assured with a warm, brotherly smile. "You've gotten stronger, Lovi. I remember twenty years ago, you were a bit of a crybaby and sometimes wet the—!"
"Shut up!" Lovino screeched, chucking a nearby pillow at the laughing Spaniard. "You're such a bastard!"
"There you go, Lovi!" Antonio chirped. "It looks like you're feeling better already!" His smile softened. "Abuelo would be proud of you, Lovino—and Feliciano, too." Antonio stretched out his arm for Lovino to take, and the Italian scoffed, slapping it away and making the Spaniard laugh.
"I'm not a damn woman. I don't need you to escort me down the aisle," Lovino snapped, rolling his eyes. His gaze dropped to the floor. "Just be by my side, all right? You're the only family I have left, you dumb tomato bastard. I can't believe I'm going to be stuck with only you for the rest of my life, but... at least there's someone."
Antonio's smile faltered slightly as he remembered his deceased family members as well. "Sí, at least there's someone alive," he whispered quietly, blinking back the tears accompanying the memories of his parents, his aunt and uncle, his grandparents, and of his cousin, Feliciano. "If Arturo—or anything about the Underworld—ever makes you mad, you can rant to me just like old times, no?" Antonio laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Then again, it's kind of baffling to imagine Arturo making you mad. I can see that he treasures you the most of everything."
Interrupting the two surviving members of the Vargas family was a knock on the door. Gilbert cracked the door open and commented, "I have to go. There's only a few minutes left until my awesome début. You guys better hurry, too." Lovino nodded his head and gestured for Antonio to follow Gilbert out of the chamber. The three of them rushed to the pair of enormous white doors leading into the ballroom and met with the rest of the bridal party. Each bridesmaid and usher paired together with Isabel and Mathias in the front, then Julchen and Gilbert, Marianne and Francis, and, finally, Elizaveta and the best man, Alistair, who wore his military uniform decorated with his medals. Angelique, dressed in her white floral gown with white laces and ribbons as well as a pair of princess socks and Mary-Jane shoes, stood behind the bridesmaids with her basket of flower petals—white lilies and roses—with Jia Long standing right beside her bearing a crimson pillow holding two simple platinum rings engraved with a pentagram that held traces of diamonds at the five points. The doors opened, and everyone stepped into the ballroom pair after pair atop the crimson carpet embroidered with golden threads. Thousands of eyes fell upon them.
The bridesmaids and ushers separated at the front into left and right respectively. Yao stood at the alter with Arthur on his left. The blond was dressed in his royal attire, a formal coat a colour of crimson so dark it was nearly the shade of black blood with golden epaulettes and embroidery, black satin lapels, and elegantly carved buttons that were properly fastened in the front as well as a pair of white trousers that were tucked into dark military boots that reached his knees and a pair of white gloves. Around his neck was an elegant white cravat, and a crimson sash crossed his torso, embellishing his military medals just like Alistair, while a golden crown was situated atop his head of golden locks that managed to be tamed for once—with the aid of some charms and spells, no doubt—and his piercings lined his ear as per usual.
Lovino smiled softly at the memory of Arthur abandoning his dull and plain wardrobe three years ago, and he would like to think that it was because of him. His outfits weren't as "punk" as they used to be in the eighties, the blond had protested, but they were different than the beige blazers and boring khakis he used to wear to remain discreet in the Surface World. The blond was comfortable being himself again.
Arthur, catching notice of Lovino's smile, shared his affections with him momentarily, exchanging euphoric smiles tinged slightly with nervousness and anxiety, before they both resumed their prior stance. In the meanwhile, Angelique was tossing the petals across the carpet and into the air that ignited into sparks of blue flames the moment they left her fingers—Arthur's personal enchantment—smiling merrily and beaming at the beautiful effects they left. Once Lovino reached the front of the grand staircase, Antonio separated from him to sit with the rest of Arthur's family in the front, including Alfred, Matthew, and Neeraja. At the grand piano, a sleek black, Roderich ceased his playing so that Yao could speak.
"Family and friends, we gather here today on the twenty-fifth of December, Christmas Day," the Scribe declared, "to unite King Arthur Pendragon Kirkland of the Underworld, Third Son of Hades, and Lovino Vargas, First Grandson of Romulus Vargas and la Famiglia Divina, in holy matrimony—or maybe just matrimony considering our location. We can't exactly call ourselves holy and divine." The attendants chuckled, and Arthur and Lovino both cracked a subtle smile at the Scribe's attempt to relax their ecstatic nerves and loosen the rigid intensity stiffening their muscles. Clearing his throat, Yao Wang resumed his speech, "Originally, I was one of those who was most adamantly against this union. I thought a human unsuitable as a consort, his knowledge of the universe lacking and his skills... non-existent." Yao smiled amiably at the trace of a deep scowl surfacing onto Lovino's exterior. "That was only my initial thoughts," the Chinese dragon assuaged the prince consort to-be. "Nevertheless, I came to learn that nobody else can defy our king as his beloved had, and, thereby, his beloved is the one who influences our king the most. While we can revere and respect our king, we cannot support him in the way that his love can, for we are the kingdom which he protects. Throughout each tremulous storm that weathers the foundation of his realm, he shall protect and reconstruct his domain accordingly, but the individual who holds him together the entire duration of such a tempest is only his love. His love has brought our king the life we lacked or missed, and together they support and protect one another. Even if I had continued to reject the two of them, I have this belief that they would remain together, for they already seemed to be married even without this ceremony.
"You do not need my blessing or my approval, nor do you need anybody else's. Continue to love each as you always have—no, not as you always have or always will—even stronger than the last moment. With each and every day that passes, with each and every obstacle you encounter, you shall be one another's pillar of support, and you shall love each other more than you had yesterday. Your vows?"
Arthur plucked Lovino's ring from the pillow and, smiling, recited a passage from memory as he slipped the ring onto his lover's finger,
"Doubt thou the stars are fire,
Doubt that the sun doth move,
Doubt truth to be a liar,
But never doubt I love."
"Hamlet?" Lovino guessed correctly with a wry smile. "You've been reading Shakespeare often these days."
"Shakespeare is romantic," Arthur countered with a mischievous smirk. "What have you got up your sleeve?"
Clearing his throat, Lovino responded haughtily while slipping Arthur's ring onto his finger,
"Forty thousand brothers
Could not with all their quantity of love
Make up my sum."
"What? You've quoted Hamlet as well," the blond mused.
"You left it lying around!" Lovino protested, crossing his arms. "This line was cool, anyway. You have a problem with it, dammit?"
Arthur laughed and shook his head, leaving his subjects in attendance astounded to hear his joyous laughter. Ever since childhood it was rare of King Arthur to have laughed, yet this human who had achieved the eternal quest to seek out immortality so easily had managed to make him do just as easily without so much of a challenge. There was no doubt that Lovino Vargas was to become a formidable person, but the consort hadn't even realised such a prospect.
"I'm just glad," Arthur mused, "that our ending is not as tragic as Hamlet's."
Shaking his head in both amusement and disapproval, Yao was about to chastise the couple before proceeding with the ceremony, but it seemed that someone else had beat him to his next line, "You may now kiss the bridegroom," leaving the Scribe in a confused daze. He glanced around for the source of the voice—an almost omnipotent sounding voice infused with the voices of many unifying into one voice—only to catch a glimpse of a white shadow, like a blaze of white light, standing at quite the distance. He thought he caught a sparkle of emeralds, but the moment he blinked the white shadow had already vanished into thin air like a flash of white lightning.
In the meanwhile, Lovino and Arthur stared at each other, somewhat flustered, after hearing the line. A coat of red flushed Lovino's cheeks as he glanced towards the awaiting crowd, not wanting to display any signs of affection in front of so many people, before he felt Arthur grasp his hand and pull him forward. The brunet fell into his lover's chest, feeling himself being embraced by Arthur's lean arms, before a gentle kiss pressed against his forehead. Lovino vaguely heard Elizaveta croon, melting into a puddle of goo, among the coos in the crowd, at the sweetness of such a scene, but he was more focused on trying to control the wild flutters in his stomach as his heart leapt in his chest. Arthur pulled away with an understanding smile on his lips; however, before he could fully separate from Lovino, the Italian snapped, "Why the fuck do you do this to me?" and grasped his cravat and locked their lips together in a heated kiss, making the crowd roar with cheers. Arthur soon assumed the lead, pressing Lovino close against his body, and devoured his lips hungrily. They eventually pulled away for air, only to face a jubilant crowd. Lovino's cheeks flushed an even deeper crimson. "That's how you fucking kiss, bastard, got it?" he grumbled, kicking the scuff of his shoe against the carpet shyly. Arthur chuckled and took Lovino's hand within his own yet again, lacing their fingers together.
They looked into the crowd and found, standing at the open doors, Feliciano and Romulus Vargas smiling widely—their grins stretching ear to ear—while cheering loudly for their brother and grandson. Their forms were both transparent, spectral in a sense, and before Lovino could address them, they both faded into the background as though they were never there at all. In the meanwhile, Yao was attempting to quell the spectators in order for them to continue with the next part of the ceremony—the coronation of a prince consort. Kiku, dressed in his black uniform and revealing his ears and all nine of his tails, climbed down the grand staircase carrying a pillow similar to the one that Jia Long carried down the aisle. Upon it he carried a golden crown endued with sparkling jewels and a sceptre.
The fox spirit stopped beside Yao and in front of the newly married couple wearing his usual blank stare. Arthur took the crown in his hands and bestowed it upon Lovino's head carefully. He then took the sceptre into his two hands before passing it onto Lovino, who grasped the heirloom tightly. He recalled his dream momentarily of Arthur as the boy king of Camelot holding a royal sceptre much too grand, much too heavy, and much too tall for a twelve year old before swiftly dismissing the dream and snapping back to his reality. He was suddenly all too aware of the smiles thrown his way by all of the bridesmaids and all of the ushers, including the best man, now his brother-in-law, and all of the guests and participants.
"Turn," Arthur told him softly, "to face your new subjects."
Lovino gulped and turned around, suddenly far too attentive to all of the eyes set upon his small figure, and he nearly didn't hear all of Yao's incantations that were supposed to give him strength as the new consort of the Dark Realm. Once he heard clapping, Lovino gladly replaced the sceptre onto the pillow on which it was carried, but the Italian was unable to take off his crown until he disappeared from public eyes. The recessional began, and Arthur stretched out his hand for Lovino to take. The brunet gave his British lover a weary smile before intertwining their fingers together once more. The two of them lead the bridal party out of the ballroom. Alistair and Elizaveta followed first, then Francis and Marianne, then Gilbert and Julchen, and then Mathias and Isabel. Angelique and Jia Long chased after their elders with Yao and Kiku close on their tail. Once Lovino and Arthur passed the double doors, the Italian could hear Seamus and Owain rise to instruct the congregation where to go.
In an impromptu decision, Arthur pulled Lovino away from the bridal party, sprinting away from the others with his consort stumbling behind him, while bubbling with laughter. Lovino couldn't keep the smile away from his lips either and eventually caught up to speed, running beside his lover. "Oi!" Alistair exclaimed from a ways down the corridor indignantly over Elizaveta's squeals. "Where do ye think you're going? What about the reception?!"
"I'll leave it to you!" Arthur responded casually. "Take care of the children for me!"
"Fuck that!" Alistair cried. "Ye should already be over the damn honeymoon phase, bloody moron!" Even though he said that, the Demon King knew that his brother was unable to leave five children unattended at a party. Despite being the Prince of Wrath (or, perhaps, because he was the Prince of Wrath), Alistair had a soft spot for children, who were still very much innocent without much influence from the outside world. Grumbling under his breath, the redhead marched towards the garden to help host the reception in place of the already honeymooning couple.
Throwing Lovino into his bedchamber, Arthur bolted the door shut before loosening his cravat, tossing the most annoying parts of his clothing aside—the military sash and the crown namely—and unbuttoning his formal coat. He raked his fingers through his groomed locks, tousling the mousy hair into its natural state, while the Italian made himself comfortable on Arthur's bed, unbuttoning his tailcoat and stripping himself of the numerous layers he was forced to wear during the formal occasion. He sprawled across Arthur's vast bed, drowning in the comfortable mattress, and when Arthur crawled on top of him, the Italian brought him in for a kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck, unrelenting and merciless. He tugged on those unruly blond locks, demanding access into his warmth, and Arthur conceded if only to dominate the kiss by overwhelming Lovino entirely.
More and more articles of clothing were discarded, and Lovino's own crown toppled to the ground with a heavy clang. The pressure of the formal event was forgotten completely in favour of the heated passion that blinded them, deluded them, into living in their own world filled with tender caresses, chaste kisses, warm embraces, and endless dances underneath the eternal night sky of the Underworld with only the brightly glowing moon, burning a feverish crimson that hardly rivalled their own passion, that was especially high in the starless sky as their witness. Lovino laid exhausted atop Arthur's chest as the Briton wrapped his arms around his lover protectively. The two of them were wrapped cosily in a welcome silence, only listening to one another's frenetic heartbeat.
"All right?" Arthur asked suddenly as he pressed a gentle kiss against Lovino's temple. His Italian lover simply pressed closer to Arthur's body.
"Hell no," Lovino grunted, "you fuck too hard..." A red tinge coated his cheeks. "But it wasn't bad, dammit—damn asshole." Arthur couldn't suppress a smile and ended up laughing softly at his consort's words. "Nonno had this saying about Heaven and Hell."
"Oh?"
"Mm," Lovino hummed lowly. "In Heaven the French are the chefs, the Italians are the lovers, the British are the police, the Germans are the engineers, and the Swiss are bankers. In Hell the British are the chefs—hey! Don't bite!" Lovino protested as he felt Arthur nibble on his ear in retaliation. He lost himself to a moan of pleasure as Arthur began to leave kisses behind his ear despite the fact that he tried to continue explaining, "The Swiss are the lovers, the Germans are policemen, the French are the engineers, and the Italians are bankers."
"What's your point?" Arthur mumbled against Lovino's olive flesh, relishing the heat radiating from his lover's body. "That I picked a wonderful lover but should be weary about the transactions that might happen with my bank account? I've seen your bloody closet—Giorgio Armani, Gucci, Prada, Corneliani, Brioni—even your bloody suit today was designer—fucking Ottavio Nuccio Gala." He groaned, thinking of all the zeroes he had to pay, and the possibly six figure sum of Lovino's closet by now. He might have bought everything on sale or at an outlet with his salary from the caffè, but that by all means did not mean it was cheap. "Good thing I'm a king."
Lovino nudged his husband and rolled his eyes. "I meant to say that you're a rough lover, Officer Kirkland, but not at all bad—far from it," the Italian retorted. After a moment, he added, "And that I'm always going to cook breakfast—and lunch and dinner. Cooking food is different from cooking up spells, damn bastard."
Arthur crinkled his nose and remarked, "At least that leaves me with teatime."
"Tea is the one thing you can't do wrong," Lovino retorted, kissing his jaw tenderly in spite of his tone, "and your taste in lovers."
The blond chuckled and returned the kiss affectionately, mentioning, "That wasn't what I meant by asking, 'All right?' though." His voice occupied a more sombre tone, becoming much more grave than ever before, and Lovino knew that he couldn't avoid the topic any more. Arthur had asked earlier if he was all right with having their wedding so soon after Feliciano departed for the Celestial Realm and possibly to be redirected to the River Vitae for his rebirth.
His eyes fell to the pattern of the sheets spread upon Arthur's mattress, tracing the design of the fabric, before he answered reluctantly, "I know what you meant. I'm fine. I... I thought I saw Feliciano and Nonno there though. Crazy, right?"
"Then we both must be insane," Arthur responded wryly with a subtle spark in his eyes reflecting the mischief in his reply. "I saw the two of them as well."
"Do you..." Lovino swallowed his fears. The worst case scenario is that Arthur would say that it was impossible, but knowing his lover, after all of these years, the impossible only means that the possibility has a very slim chance of being true. "Do you think that... they've come back? That they've been reborn?"
Arthur smiled softly. "That's the greatest probability right now," he assured, "but I don't know for sure. We'll find out eventually, yeah? Right now, you should get some rest. We have five days for the holidays before Yao drags my bloody arse around the Underworld for another round of formalities."
Lovino smirked mischievously. "What about another round?"
"You're even more of a bloody demon than I am, spitfire," Arthur mused, seizing the opportunity to take up Lovino's offer. He brought Lovino closer for another kiss—slow, seductive, and sensual. "Where do you want to go after Christmas?" he whispered in Lovino's ear before pressing another kiss to the shell of his lover's ear and another behind his ear. "Rome? London? Or somewhere more exotic? I heard Fiji is lovely around this time of year."
The Italian smiled as he enveloped Arthur's lips in another kiss. "How about Naples?" he suggested shyly. "It can be too damn hot during summer for your standards, but it'll be perfect during winter. My family has estate nearby, too, and it's all under my name now... Plus, I don't want to be surrounded by tourists either."
Arthur arched a sceptic eyebrow. "Why Naples? I thought you've been straying from your roots for a while now," the blond inquired curiously. "I haven't heard so much of a word from you regarding la famiglia in years."
"Can't run away from it forever," Lovino responded tersely as he collapsed at Arthur's side on the bed. He smirked mischievously and commented offhandedly, "I bet you could recognise all of the old churches and piazzas and palaces and shit, too—maybe even the ancient artefacts."
The Demon King huffed in disdain and remarked, "I'm not that old... I didn't even exist before the common era... but I would probably recognise some of the castles. I was there when they were completed—like Sant'Elmo." The Briton then smiled widely at his lover. "I'm looking forward to seeing them all the same though. Get some rest before we leave."
"And the children?"
"I'm sure Alistair can handle them for a few days."
"Signore," Feliciano addressed the ominous and omniscient voice as he wandered about the white room. He couldn't feel his bare feet hit the white floor, yet there was a very soft, very subtle sound of his feet making contact with the surface. Honestly, in this room, Feliciano couldn't tell up from down, and he couldn't tell left from right. He wasn't even sure if he was upside down or right-side up or if he was on his sides or on his back or anything else. All he could see was an endless stretch of white. "Why am I here again?"
"Ah," responded the voice—or voices, Feliciano couldn't tell—as it considered Feliciano's question, "you remember the first time we have met then."
"Sì," answered the brunet as he plopped down on the "floor," crossing his legs, to have a conversation with a person—or perhaps some persons—he could not see. Amber eyes blinked as he searched the vicinity for the figure speaking with him. "You let me go back to Earth to see my fratello. Ve, I wanted to be at his wedding, and even after I returned here with Mordred, you let me see my nonno and my fratello. You're very nice, Signore, just like Artù."
"I hope Arthur treats your brother nicely," replied the voice.
"I hope my fratello treats Artù nicely!" corrected Feliciano with a sheepish smile. "Lovino is very nice even though he acts mean, ve. I'm sure they will be happy together. Signore, have you known Artù long?"
"I've known him since his birth," answered the voice amiably. "He is a very talented, a very gifted boy. He has overcome many challenges and will face many more still. I trust your brother will be in very good hands."
Feliciano beamed. "I hope so, too!" The smile on his lips faded though the moment those words escaped the confines of his lips. "I miss him... I miss everyone. I never thought being dead would be so lonely."
"There is a way to be with them, Feliciano," mentioned the voice. From a burst of light, a tall, towering figure stepped forward. The flash blinded the Italian young man, who had to squint his eyes to bear the sudden sensation, but even then he couldn't see who stood in front of him—only catching a faintest glimpse of a pair of bright green eyes. "You have to be careful though. Not every daemon in the Underworld can tolerate angels, and it is very difficult for angels to tolerate the Underworld itself due to the horrid miasma that leaks from Hell. I fear it will be difficult for you to see your brother again, but I promise that I will give you another opportunity so long as you fulfil your missions. Right now, I have something I want you to do for me. It will be your first task as my divine soldier."
"Ve?"
Feliciano felt his palms being turned upward. A solid object was laid within his hands, somewhat heavy but not quite, definitely not incredibly massive. Cupping his hands about the item, Feliciano realised that it was an egg large enough to fit the size of his entire palm. "What is this, Signore?" he asked the stranger.
"It's my wedding present." Feliciano could vaguely see a pale finger pressing against thin lips stretched in a pearly white smile. "But don't let them see you, understood, Feliciano? Don't let them know our little secret until you're fully trained.
"I need five little lost ones to come back to me quietly and willingly, after all."
"What the fuck?!" Lovino shrieked as he backed away from the grand bed fit for a king within his room at his grandfather's mansion in the countryside just south of Naples. Arthur moaned at his consort's outburst that awoke him from a relaxing nap. Stretching his limbs, the Briton pushed himself upright on the bed and blinked away his sleep, slowly awakening his senses. "W-What is that?!" Lovino cried as he pointed a shaky finger to the object of his attention. Arthur glanced downwards and found a rather large egg laying between him and a compression where Lovino's weight was formerly located. "There isn't some weird reproduction thing you haven't told me about, is there?"
"I assure you that is not the case, luv," Arthur responded collectedly as he gingerly picked up the egg to observe it. "It would be a tad bit strange for one of us to suddenly lay an egg like some sort of monotreme, and I assure you that is definitely not the case." In his groggy state, he could faintly distinguish traces of life energy emanating from the egg. "I don't know how this egg got here either, but it seems that there's a soul in here—developing rather quickly at that. You shouldn't cook this egg for breakfast, dear."
"I know that, you sarcastic bastard! I'm not going to cook some weird egg for breakfast! I don't know where it came from or what it is! Do you think I'm some kind of moron, dammit?"
"That's certainly not the case, darling," Arthur responded distractedly as he turned the egg in his hand. It fit the size of his palm entirely, larger than any other egg Arthur had ever encountered except for a rare dragon egg that occurs once every five centuries or so. Peering closer, Arthur attempted to study the soul that laid protected behind the egg's shell. His emeralds widened considerably in surprise as he recognised a familiar golden flame that he had only seen for a few minutes only a couple of weeks ago—barely even a month! "We have to hatch this egg."
"What?"
"We have to hatch this egg," Arthur repeated. "It's no regular egg. Considering the rapid development of the soul inside, it's only a matter of days before it hatches. We have to hatch it."
Lovino blinked slowly before crawling back into bed and underneath the covers. He took the egg from Arthur's hands and felt a faint attachment to it. "Could you at least explain why, bastard?" Lovino asked of the Demon King. "Is it a familiar? They can change into animals, right? So is it a bird kid or a lizard kid or something? I refuse to believe that a fucking stork dropped by to pay us a visit and give us a late present after our wedding day while we are on our honeymoon all the way in Naples and away from any business meetings and shit."
"I don't think so," Arthur answered uncertainly to Lovino's question in spite of the smiling dancing on his lips from the stork comment. "I'm not sure, actually. I just... don't want to leave it alone."
"So you're saying we're adopting it even though we don't know what the fuck it is. Along with the five other kids we have."
Arthur grinned widely. "You catch on fast."
Lovino snorted and remarked sardonically, "Who the hell do you think you are, bastard? Nanny McPhee? Mary Poppins?" Rolling his eyes, he subconsciously held the egg closer to his chest. "Whatever, dammit. I'll go along with it—but not for you—for this weird egg. It'd be bad if she died on us or if she became an orphan."
"You're already assuming it's a girl?"
"I want a girl! They're cuter than boys!" Lovino snapped before pouting childishly. "But that's just because I never really looked at a man until I met you. Anyway, you know, girl or boy, their parents would love them all the same. It doesn't really matter to me. I'd still care for them. Favouritism sucks; I know that." Arthur smiled softly and pulled Lovino closer into an embrace.
"We'll find out soon if it's a girl or a boy. Have you thought of any names?"
"Felicia—or maybe Felicita—if it's a girl," Lovino responded, making the smile on Arthur's lips widen. He could practically hear the unspoken words, In honour of my brother. "You think of a boy name."
"Marcello," Arthur replied in an instant. "Marcello is a good name."
"Why?"
"Because you'd probably reject Marcellus," the Briton explained sheepishly. "That's the name of the soul. I figured the Italian derivative is close enough."
"Fine," Lovino agreed shortly as he crawled out of bed much to Arthur's dismay in order to wrap the egg in a snug blanket. "Felicia and Marcello are our choices. It's a fifty-fifty chance, so it's fair, right?"
"Of course," Arthur confirmed with a nod of his head. "Now how are we going to hatch dear Marcello over the next four or five days?"
"We're just going to take dear Felicia with us wherever we go," Lovino answered nonchalantly—or as nonchalantly as he endeavoured to be—while digging away in his closet. He managed to pull out an old satchel—Gucci, of course—and began to pad the inside with cloth towels and small blankets to absorb any impacts. "Let's find some museums to visit today and anything else you want to look at."
"What about you?" Arthur retorted. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to eat lunch at a caffè and steal the recipes if it's good enough," Lovino confessed with red cheeks while flinging a random shirt at Arthur's head. The Demon King caught the flying fabric while smiling fondly at his consort. "At least in this lifetime, I'm still running a business. I have to make sure it doesn't sink and go completely under the water."
"That's not it at all," the Englishman commented with an encouraging smile. "You have some place that you really want to visit, and it's not just any random caffè, eh? You said before that you wanted to face your past?"
The Italian flushed red with embarrassment. "It's a place that Nonno used to take me and Feliciano to dine for lunch—a local joint," Lovino confessed hesitantly.
"Well then," the blond mused, "let's hurry and get ready. I'm sure Marcello will enjoy a day out as well."
"Of course, she will, you bastard."
"And besides," Arthur mentioned pointedly with a warm smile, "I'm more interested in seeing your childhood than any museum."
The next four days were spent admiring Neapolitan architecture and buildings as well as a number of artefacts and artworks found at museums and galleries if Lovino and Arthur weren't strolling down memory lane or lingering at the Vargas estate retouching the flora. With Lovino's magic touch, they managed to revive the garden in a matter of days, and Arthur planned for it to remain that way even if it would be a while until they return. (The Briton already made arrangements to hire housekeepers and gardeners while Lovino wasn't looking.) It would have been a waste of Lovino's hard work if the plants shrivelled up and withered again. Before long, their holiday had ended within a blink of an eye, and Arthur had to conjure another portal so that they could return to the Underworld on the thirty-first of December, New Year's Eve.
After all, the newly married couple was forced to host a New Year's party at the palace in line with old traditions. In spite of the cheerful, warm welcome they've received, Lovino couldn't help but long for a little bit more time alone with Arthur. For the night, they left the egg behind in Arthur's chambers, and neither Arthur nor Lovino could last a second without worrying about the developing soul alone in a vast, dark room. By the time they counted down accordingly to Eastern Standard Time, watching the ball drop in Times Square (a tradition that began in 1908), Arthur and Lovino fled the ballroom and threw themselves into the king's bedchamber. When they saw that the egg was still in one piece, they heaved a great sigh of relief, and Lovino simply dragged himself to bed while tossing aside the most bothersome parts of his royal costume.
Of course, the next day meant breakfast with the family.
"So how are we going to take Marcello to breakfast when we can't even leave him alone for the night?" Arthur asked his consort as he sat himself upright in his bed. The blanket slid down his front, barely covering his wait and hips, and revealed his lean muscles, including his well-built abdomen, as well as his slender frame. Lovino willed himself not to look at his handsome and most delectable lover and husband.
"I'll hold Felicia in my lap. Hopefully, I don't have to stand." Flinging Arthur's shirt at the blond's face (the both of them lost count on how many times that has happened in the past week), Lovino snapped, "Now go change. We have to get there first if we're going to pull this off correctly."
"Yes, dear!" Arthur sang with a mischievous smirk settled on his lips. He slipped out of bed and wrapped his arms around Lovino's waist, pressing kisses against his neck, and asked, "Want to shower together?"
"Just go get ready, bastard. We're keeping Felicia a secret for now, right? I mean, we hardly even know what she is even five days after we've gotten her from the damn stork."
"As you wish, my darling spitfire."
Later, the two of them rushed to the dining hall, freshly showered and neatly dressed, and sat at their respective seats. Arthur sat at the head of the table while Lovino occupied the seat to his right. Setting the egg in his lap first, Lovino attempted to hide it with a napkin. Arthur rolled his eyes in response, earning himself a glare from the brunet. Standing up, the King pushed his consort's chair closer to the table, hiding the egg more efficiently. Just as he sat down, Alistair, Owain, and Seamus entered the dining hall. The eldest son appeared somewhat haggard as though he had gone through military exercises non-stop for the past week while the fourth son was noticeably pale. Owain, as always, appeared exhausted from a sufficient lack of sleep even though that was probably all he ever did.
"Is something the matter?" Arthur asked his brothers.
"Your children are too damn lively," Alistair griped as he sat to Arthur's left. Owain and Seamus followed his example and plopped into their chairs. The Prince of Sloth immediately set his head atop the table in spite of common table etiquette.
"Well, they just want to spend time with their favourite Uncle Alistair," Arthur responded sardonically. "Not like they have any other Uncle Alistair from which to choose or else I would have criticised their poor taste."
"How did sweet little angels end up with a father like ye?"
"Fate and miracle, I suppose," Arthur responded dryly. "It unites us all. Unfortunately enough, I'm stuck with you."
"You little fucker," Alistair seethed all in good nature. He turned his attention to Lovino, who sat across from him, "It's not too late to get a divorce, you know."
"Catholics don't believe in divorces—supposedly," the Englishman remarked.
"Well, shite, I guess you're stuck with him, too," Alistair teased with a crooked smirk on his lips.
The doors burst open at that point, and a flood of children flitted to the table at Lovino's side. Alfred, Matthew, Angelique, Jia Long, and Neeraja immediately filled the rest of the seats on Lovino's side of the table after affectionately greeting their guardians while Peter and Kaelin sat next to their siblings. Jett and James quickly followed after the children with a familiar face and occupied the remaining seats. Bridget smiled at Arthur and Lovino, congratulating them, as she sat across from her daughter and sons and next to Arthur's guardian spirits. "I trust that my darling Kaelin has been of aide to you, Arthur," Bridget addressed her nephew with a friendly smile on her lips. After three years, she had collected herself perfectly in spite of the fact that her husband had died at Arthur's hands. Kaelin flushed with embarrassment from all of the attention she was receiving. "She's a smart one—and pretty, too."
"Indeed, she is," Arthur agreed—but not out of courtesy and politeness. He gave Kaelin a fond smile. "My cousin is a girl who is well put-together. I'm certain she will grow up to be a fine, independent young woman just like her mother."
"You flatter me, Arthur."
"It is not flattery, Aunt Bridget. It is the truth. I'm grateful to have Kaelin's help. She is particularly insightful." The Demon King chuckled when he noticed that his youngest cousin was now trying to hide herself even though Peter was pestering her about a job well-done.
After everyone was seated and collected, the family breakfast began with the servants, among them was Kiku directing and supervising, if not helping, the others, carrying out food from the kitchen.
"Enjoy this feast, lads," Alistair mused as he gave the children a wide, amiable grin so different from his earlier attitude towards Arthur. "It'll be the last one until a few more centuries pass."
Amidst the clamour and the noise, Lovino felt the egg shake in his lap in response to the lively atmosphere of the Kirkland family. From the sudden shock, he dropped his fork against his dish, the impact ringing in the vicinity. Every set of eyes focused on him, making his cheeks flush a deep scarlet, as he stammered out a lame apology, but even throughout his extended apology, the trembling and quaking wouldn't stop. Any moment now, Lovino feared that the egg would drop from his lap and, instead of hatching, crack. Arthur slipped Lovino's hand into his own, and their eyes locked together. As though understanding what was bothering Lovino, Arthur stood and pulled out the Italian's chair, quickly helping Lovino stand upright after making sure the Italian grasped the egg firmly in his hands.
Upon noticing the rumbling egg in Lovino's arms, Alistair raised a thick eyebrow while Owain gazed at the eye wearily. Bridget, on the other hand, seemed rather amused, and Seamus was rather unnerved with how his aunt had appeared so nonchalant with this sudden surprise. "Is that what I think it is?" the Prince of Sloth inquired of Arthur. In that moment, all of which Arthur was aware was that Owain simply knows and that Alistair had a good idea of what the egg was as well.
"Well..." Arthur trailed off. "It's the same soul—Marcellus—but it's purified now. It shouldn't cause you—anybody, really—any harm. It doesn't know anything. It's a new life."
"What are you talking about?" Lovino whispered harshly under his breath so that only Arthur could hear.
"Marcellus was Mordred's soul. It was poisoned by Morgan le Fay before we cleansed it," Arthur explained to his consort. "If it's back from the River Vitae, it's a sign from the Heavens that Marcellus is ready for a new body, a new life. The Maker has entrusted us with Mordred's soul this time." Arthur smiled soberly and mentioned, "I want to give him a new life even if he doesn't remember his wishes. I want him to feel the love he never had in his past life. I want him to have new experiences... We can do that, can't we?"
Lovino stared at Arthur long and hard before responding slowly, "You're too kind to be the fucking Devil, you damned bastard." He clutched the egg more firmly to prevent it from springing out of his grasp. "Of course we can. It's a big castle, and you have a big house, too. It'll be a big and cosy family—like what Feliciano's always dreamt of after our parents died. We kept losing everyone, but... I think that can stop now, right?" He angled his head, and his lips stretched into a smile only Arthur could see. "Feliciano will come back to us someday. We'll be waiting for him until then, sì?"
"Sì," Arthur agreed wholeheartedly. With that one uttered word, a crack formed horizontally in the shell of the egg before breaking off entirely. There was a cry from within the egg, and everyone's breath hitched in their throat. They watched anxiously as Arthur carefully peeled the top of the shell off the child that had been developing within the egg like a Russian nesting doll before a head of chestnut brown tresses poked into the open. There was a single curl—somewhat angular—similar to that of Lovino's standing out rebelliously from the rest, and the skin complexion was a hue between the pale porcelain of Arthur's and the exotic olive of Lovino's—a fair shade, if anyone had to say anything. The child finally opened his eyes, revealing big, round and wide emeralds just like the rest of the Kirkland family. Arthur watched in awe as the child hushed. Taking the small infant into his arms, Arthur noted that he was the very size of the egg—not much larger than a single palm—yet his soul was golden, grand. Then the boy giggled.
"He has your eyes," Lovino whispered.
"He looks just like you," Arthur remarked as he buried his nose into Marcello's hair. "His nose, his hair, his lips, his laughter! Marcello, aren't you happy to be alive?!" He lifted the bubbling boy into the air as the infant giggled. Arthur burst with laughter and brought his child close to his chest once again. "I promise to you, I will nurture you—not only your soul—not only to redeem myself to Mordred—but because you are now my child. You are Marcello Vargas Kirkland from this day forward." Arthur turned to Lovino with a grand smile on his lips. "Right, Lovino?"
"Right, you cheeky bastard," Lovino responded with the same cheeriness seeping into his voice. Everyone else congratulated the new fathers, and the five children dashed over to greet their newest brother.
"He's so small!" Alfred exclaimed after Arthur crouched for his five guardian spirits to have a glance at their baby brother. "He's tiny!"
"He's just like a doll!" Angelique cooed as she reached out to touch him with her forefinger. Marcello gripped her finger tightly and giggled. The features on Angelique's visage softened noticeably, and she bent over to bestow a kiss on Marcello's forehead. "Is he going to be small forever?"
"I don't think so," Arthur responded to his princess' question. "From what I see, he has demon blood in his veins. Considering his small size right now and the scale of his soul, he'll grow to be a normal sized baby in no time. Then he'll take his time to grow like Peter and Kaelin."
"What about me and Alfred and Ange and Jia Long and Neeraja?" Matthew asked curiously. "Will we grow big, too?"
At the innocent question, Arthur's heart broke into pieces. Technically, his children's physical bodies were already deceased. Only the soul lives on after having been extracted from the place of their haunting due to the support Arthur's powers offered. "We'll see, lad," Arthur whispered quietly with a weak smile. Lovino noticed, and it didn't take long for Alistair, Owain, and Seamus to notice either. The children continued to play with their baby brother obliviously, however, and with the passing time, even Peter and Kaelin noticed Arthur's distress—especially after Jett and James exchanged worried, concerned glances.
"Arthur," Bridget called out to her nephew as she stood beside Alistair, "I think we have to talk."
The Demon King promptly nodded and followed after his aunt after handing his youngest son to his consort's care. The Italian at first appeared awkward before his features softened into affection and adoration. It was as though he knew—somehow—that Marcello had both his and Arthur's blood. After all, even though Arthur said that Marcello had demon blood flowing through his veins, he didn't say that Marcello did not have human blood either.
Arthur joined his aunt outside the dining hall, and Alistair and Owain promptly joined him as well.
"You've had them for around five centuries," Bridget began firmly with her arms crossed and her eyes locked with Arthur's, "but they haven't grown at all. I think they're beginning to notice, boy, that they're unlike both daemons and humans."
Everyone was reluctant to utter the next phrase, but Owain finally broke the silence, only serving to intensify the situation, "It's time, Arthur, to release their souls. They're no longer bound to the place where they died. You've given them happiness enough, dear brother. It's time for them to depart and move onto their next lives. They're satiated now what with the tender love and care you and Lovino have given them."
"Not now," Arthur argued as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Still, he was resilient and kept them rolling down his cheeks. "They have a brother to love now. They can't leave now."
"But they have to leave soon," Alistair reasoned. Although his voice was steadfast and unwavering, it was clear that he was nearly breaking down himself. He stated as strongly and adamantly as he could, "There's no place for the dead in the Realm of the Living. They don't have a physical body, Arthur. They're not alive, and they're not undead either. They can't stay here any more. They have to return to the flow of life—the River Vitae. Feliciano knew that, and he's been a spirit for a shorter duration than they have. I'm sure they know as well that they don't really belong here, and nobody would question your decision. The Four Lords would understand. I know how fond they are of the five of them as well, but, Arthur—"
"I know! I know already!" the blond snapped as a few tears slipped from his eyes. He didn't dare wipe them away and instead focused his gaze on the floor. "I know..." he assured his elders. "Please, just give us time to say goodbye. I have to tell Lovino, too."
"I think," Bridget spoke up, "although I was not there, that your lover knows about the children after the example his brother set. You didn't see his face when Matthew asked that question. It seems that he is also prepared. Arthur, steel your resolve."
"I know," the Englishman chanted, "I know..."
With that, the four of them returned to the dining hall, pretending that all was well. News of Marcello's hatching spread throughout the castle like wildfire, and soon the rumours that the king now had an heir reached the entirety of the kingdom. The Four Lords and their followers all paid Lovino, Arthur, and Marcello visits, awing at his small size. Doubtless, the stronger of the followers had questioned tiny Marcello's potential, but considering their king's works of miracles, they didn't question much afterwards. Later that night, Arthur broke the news to Lovino who, although he had known, ever since Feliciano's departure, that the children would have to leave eventually as well, burst into tears at the prospect. He didn't want them to leave either just as soon as the two of them had the potential to have a big, happy family. Still, he braced himself for the day when that would come.
A/N: In Sympathy for the Devil, I had already planned for the children to be spirited away, but I never got to it then because there was already too much going on. Let's see if I get to it this time.
Mordred isn't Seborga or vice-versa; only his appearance was based off Seborga. Mordred was a little too messed up to be Seborga, but Seborga somehow ended up as Marcello. I fancied this idea of Mordred being reborn when I was planning the plot, but I didn't realise that he would be reborn as Marcello/Seborga until I started writing the last few chapters.
Also, this isn't the last time you'll see Feliciano. Promise!
Thanks for all the reviews, favourites, and follows!