Arthur's mind was racing.
That language was certainly not used by the Court, nor by any self-respecting Folk in polite society. He understood that untidy scrawl well, had studied it by day and in the light of enchanted flame by night. It was used by them, the miserable creatures that had slaughtered his men and begun his downward spiral into ruin.
And if Alfred was writing in Unseelie runes, perhaps...he was aligned with them?
Arthur was determined to find out.
He carefully crept alongside Alfred, coming to a rest at the tree near Alfred's home.
"Would you sit?" Alfred asked quietly; Arthur complied, backing up against the tree trunk as Alfred took a seat beside him. The evening air was cool and damp, rushing past his face and ruffling his hair. The back of his hand stung angrily; the pain was always the worst around twilight.
Alfred drew a deep breath before turning toward him, expression stern in what little light the early night offered.
"All right," he sighed tiredly, "Where do we start?"
Arthur paused, thinking.
"When did you begin writing on those parchments?" he asked finally, carefully.
Alfred exhaled slowly before answering, shaking his head.
"I don't know, sometime when I was little," he sighed.
"Tell me about your childhood, then," Arthur nudged, feeling slightly irritated. What was he, a human? He didn't have time to sort out "feelings." Still, if it meant getting to bottom of this mess...
"Uh, well, I guess it was...fine," Alfred stumbled awkwardly, staring out across the Moor, "After mom died-"
"You mentioned that there had been an accident," Arthur interrupted.
"Yeah," Alfred gulped, "Yeah, there was,"
"And...?" Arthur pried.
Alfred looked to the heavens, tilting his head back as he ran his fingers through his hair. Arthur waited patiently for him to collect himself, picking at a strand of grass to keep himself occupied.
"All right," Alfred sighed, "So, when I was a child, I...I don't know, I was just messing around in the field. You know, hiding out in the grass?"
Arthur nodded, though he honestly didn't understand why Alfred wasted time on such a stupid thing. But then again, humans weren't exactly intelligent, were they?
"So I was hiding, and the villagers were clearing the field. One of the sickles hit me," he elaborated quietly, absently clasping his hand to his abdomen as he stared up at the sky, "I mean she couldn't see me, she didn't mean to. My mother...she was there when it happened," Alfred continued.
"And your injury...was it severe?" Arthur pried.
"Oh yeah, it was bad," Alfred stated with a half-hearted chuckle, "I almost...well I guess I almost died. Mom said it was a miracle that I pulled through,"
Arthur paused. A miracle indeed.
"So your mother saved you from dying?" Arthur asked, frowning. He was thankful that Alfred wouldn't be able to read his expression well in the dark.
"I...guess so, yeah," Alfred reasoned with a shrug, "She was the one who...uh, found me,"
"I see," Arthur stated dryly.
He knew it. That woman had used Unseelie magic to save her son from death-if he even was her son. But that didn't make sense. If that were the case, wouldn't Matthew exhibit the same wild pulse of magic upon contact that Alfred did? Arthur had made contact with him a few times, when he was handing Arthur food. Why did Alfred have strange energy and his brother did not, if they were born of the same wretched Unseelie womb?
Even so, Arthur reasoned with a scowl, he knew what came next.
"And...what after that?" Arthur asked as calmly as he could manage. Unseelie magic was never used without a price, usually a very steep one. No magic was.
Alfred rubbed at his eyes, still staring up at the sky.
"A year later, she passed away," he explained quietly, "That was when Fhinn and Leesy took Matt and I in. They had a son, but after he died, they welcomed us to live with them. Must've been lonely or something-uh," Alfred stammered, voice cracking on the word "lonely."
"And what of your father?" Arthur asked. "She passed away," indeed. More like abandoned them after she was afraid of being discovered for not being human. Probably fooled them into thinking she had died, using an enchanted decoy (or worse, a slain human disguised with Glamour) to trick them into believing that she had passed.
"He died right before Matt was born; I don't remember too much about him," Alfred admitted with a sigh.
"And, your parents were from...where?" Arthur asked, trying to be as meticulous as possible.
"Where were they from?" Alfred repeated, turning toward Arthur. He couldn't see well in the darkness, but he assumed that Alfred wore a confused expression.
"Yes," Arthur responded, "It's possible that you learned those runes from one of your parents when you were growing up, if they were from a different region,"
"Oh," Alfred conceded with a nod, "I guess that makes sense. They were both local; Mom was from this village, and Dad was from the next town over,"
"Hm," Arthur muttered, frowning. "From this village" could mean many things. Infiltration of a mortal village was not exactly difficult (Arthur had managed it without even trying), but it could have begun centuries before. Once inbreeding began, the tainted magic of the Unseelie could remain within the human bloodline for many, many generations. That had been one of his assigned tasks-to study (and assist in the eradication of) said bloodlines, many years ago.
Interesting. Very interesting indeed.
"...where were your parents from, Arthur?" Alfred asked suddenly.
"I thought we came out here to talk about you, Alfred," he snapped.
"Well, yeah, but...I'm just wondering," Alfred pressed.
"I don't know," Arthur answered with a heavy sigh, "I never knew them,"
"Not at all?" Alfred breathed, apparently flabbergasted, "You don't even know their names?"
"No," Arthur answered curtly, folding his arms over his chest and turning away. It was true; children of the Folk hardly ever knew from whom they had been conceived, though with some it was easier to tell than others. Arthur had always fancied that his emerald eyes were from Eilidh, one of the elders of the Court. That wasn't her real name, of course, but she did possess vibrant green eyes like his. She didn't explain his flaxen hair, though; Eilidh's hair was a vibrant, shimmering silver. He would never know for certain who his parents were, especially not now.
He frowned, rubbing the back of his hand as it burned harshly.
"Are they...alive?" Alfred pressed.
"I have no idea," Arthur muttered, "Now can we please go back to-?"
"So where is 'home' for you, then?" Alfred asked.
Arthur paused. Honestly, at this point...?
"Wherever I roam, I suppose," he reasoned with a shrug.
"Arthur," Alfred said sternly, causing Arthur to turn and look at him. Why was his tone so different all of a sudden? Cold, almost.
Could he have figured him out?
No. Impossible.
...right?
He cleared his throat before responding, heart leaping into his mouth.
"...yes?" he squeaked.
"Are you a gypsy?" Alfred asked frankly, adding a "what's so funny?" as Arthur burst into laughter. All of his worry for nothing, clearly.
"No, no, I am not a gypsy," Arthur answered honestly.
"So you're just a merchant, then, selling things," Alfred deduced with a tilt of his head.
Arthur said nothing, choosing to turn and look out into the night instead.
"So they abandoned you after you were born, then?" Alfred continued (rather rudely, in Arthur's opinion), "I don't mean to pry, but...I mean, I'm an orphan too, so maybe I can help-"
"I don't need help," Arthur snapped.
Silence ensued for several moments as Arthur stubbornly looked out in front of him. He refused to meet Alfred's gaze, to accept pity from a mortal...if that was even what Alfred was.
But that was the disturbing part-Arthur should have sensed his Folk lineage immediately, no matter how minute the contribution in the lad's blood. It was almost as if it was...hidden. Dormant. Perhaps Alfred was using Glamour to disguise himself? It just wasn't possible for it to be hidden intentionally, not with how difficult maintaining a believable Glamour would be, especially to fool the eyes of another one of the Folk.
There truly was no way for anyone to disguise it completely, considering the immense concentration required to sustain a Glamour for long periods. But some were very skilled at it, Arthur had to admit, and the only way to detect magic in them would only be in-
"Alfred," he blurted as the idea suddenly came to him, "Does your mother have a grave?"
A morbid question, but entirely necessary. One couldn't maintain a Glamour in death, and the influence of magic would be imprinted onto the host after death if a decoy had indeed been used. If Alfred's "mother" truly had used a human corpse to falsify her own death, Arthur would sense it immediately, that telltale twinge of magic that never quite left one of the Unseelie's victims. And if that was an Unseelie corpse in the ground, he would sense that, too. All he needed was to get closer.
"W-well yeah, of course she does," Alfred stumbled.
"Where?" Arthur asked.
Alfred was silent for a moment, his silhouette looking down at the ground.
"Right here," Alfred said quietly.
Arthur frowned, looking around in the dim twilight for any sign of a tombstone. Wasn't that how humans honored their dead? By marking their resting places with rocks?
"We were going to use a stone, but then Matt and I thought it would be nicer to plant a tree," Alfred explained softly, "That way...you know, she would live again, I guess. Fhinn helped us plant it,"
"So...your mother is buried right beneath us," Arthur reasoned as his intrigue intensified. There was no pulse of magic here. None. No trace of Unseelie manipulation, of any sort of dark and perverse influence that might have-
"That's right," Alfred said with a sigh, "It's a nice tree, isn't it? I brought it in from out on the Moor. I thought it was pretty, and...anyway, that's why Matt and I built the house here. To be close to her,"
"I see," Arthur answered absently, mind racing. If what he was saying was true, Alfred's mother was human. But...how? Perhaps the father?
"And...your father?" Arthur pried.
"...he was cremated," Alfred answered, "Tradition from his village, I guess,"
"Typical," Arthur snarled.
"What?" Alfred asked.
"Nothing important," he responded. Leave it to one of them to request cremation after death. Of course. Any hope Arthur had of sensing any magic within that one had been lost, mere dust on the wind.
"...Arthur?" Alfred peeped after a few moments of silence.
"Yes?" Arthur responded.
"...do you think...? No, never mind," he stumbled, shaking his head.
"Do I think what?" Arthur pressed, frowning thoughtfully. Perhaps there was something Alfred had left out?
"I just...no, it's stupid. Never mind," he insisted as he stood up and stretched, "We should probably call it a night, it's getting late,"
"...yes, I suppose so," Arthur conceded, though he wasn't entirely convinced that whatever Alfred was going to say was "stupid."
They both entered the darkened house, Alfred closing the door softly.
"I think Matt's already gone to bed," Alfred whispered.
"Well, you are welcome to spend the night with me," Arthur offered slyly. He grinned as the young man tripped over his own feet, obviously rattled, "It's really not a problem at all, Alfred,"
No, not at all. Arthur was practically salivating at the prospect of tapping into that power of his.
"N-no that's okay," Alfred insisted with a nervous chuckle, "I wouldn't want to bother you-"
"At the risk of waking your brother, though?" Arthur asked, tilting his head just so.
"I-It'll be fine! D-don't worry! Goodnight!" Alfred hissed as he practically ran into his brother's room.
Arthur scowled at their bedroom door briefly before hobbling into Alfred's room. He sighed, collapsing onto the bed and setting his walking stick onto the floor beside it.
Who, or what, precisely, was he living with?
"Mint?" he whispered into the darkness, eyes darting around to watch for his little friend. Surely she would have some information for him by now.
He smiled as a green glow materialized in front of him, followed by several others.
"Hello, my friends," he greeted as they buzzed around him excitedly. He had journeyed a ways from the humans' home, near a small structure which he assumed was a storage building of some kind. He didn't want to risk Alfred wandering out and finding him outside again; the last incident had been a close call.
"Oh you do, do you?" Arthur teased as Mint chirped excitedly that she had information for him, "Well, go on, tell me,"
He frowned as she gave her report, the others nodding or chattering excitedly.
"I see," Arthur stated with a frown, leaning back on his arms and looking up into the night sky, "Well, he certainly moves quickly, doesn't he?" he said flatly, his mouth contorting into a snarl.
"So he was the one who turned me in," Arthur deduced as Mint buzzed around him, chattering angrily, "Doesn't surprise me, really. I figured as much. And of course he made it all look like my doing, yes?"
One of the rose-colored spirits nodded sadly, floating forward and stroking his cheek with tiny fingers. Arthur sighed; how could he have been so stupid? The plan had been so simple...maybe that's why he hadn't been able to see through it.
"We simply have to outsmart them, Darling," Francis reassured him as he stroked his hair. Arthur pushed further into his touch, smiling lazily, "It should not be a difficult task, especially with your expertise in dealing with the members of the Court,"
"Still-" Arthur protested, but was cut short by a slim finger pressing against his lips. Outside of their cave, the ocean roared.
"The Unseelie are unpredictable; we must be even more so. Not even our own should be able to discern our motives," Francis explained, "They simply require an opening, and they will be more than happy to launch an attack. Not even the Queen can stand up to that kind of power, not if the conditions are right,"
"Yes, but how will we manage to get them to negotiate?" Arthur asked as he gently pushed his lover's hand away, "They aren't exactly friendly,"
"Leave that to me, Darling," Francis said with a laugh, "All I need is for you to do your part. You understand your task, right?" he pressed.
"Of course I do," Arthur snapped, "I've already confirmed the locations of the guards, their rotations-"
"Good!" Francis praised as he pecked him on the cheek, "Good. That's an excellent start, my Love,"
"I honestly don't know how I'll manage the rest, though," Arthur admitted with a frown, "Convincing the entire Court to go above ground...?"
"All we need is one night, Darling," Francis encouraged, "Just get the Queen to agree to journey above ground for one night, and everything will be ours,"
Arthur snorted. A lot of good that did. He had spent many nights concocting the perfect plan, leaving Francis to negotiate with the dreaded Unseelie. They had the skill necessary to defeat the Queen, if she was unprotected. If above ground, she would be heavily guarded, but as for the realm of the Court? Why, that would be left to only the few sentries Arthur had meticulously taken notes on. He knew their schedules, the brief times when the Queen's chamber would be left unattended. It would be the perfect time for the Unseelie to infiltrate, to attack the Queen upon reentry, and to pave the way for the two of them to take over.
Oh, what an idiot he had been.
He had proposed for the Queen to come to the surface in celebration of his military success, under the guise of presenting his latest spoils from Unseelie territory. He had seduced the Court with promises of gemstones and glittering treasures, of spells and runes long forgotten by their Clan and returned, rightfully so, to the Queen who so dutifully protected her people and their shared heritage. The Queen had said she needed time to consider it, to put her preparations into place.
That was when he had been called forward, the night of Beltane.
The night he had been exiled.
"Is that what he said?" Arthur snapped as Mint elaborated on her tale. Mint nodded glumly, looking down at the ground.
"Unbelievable," he sighed, running a hand through his hair in dismay. Francis had already "warned" the Queen that treachery was afoot in the Court, told her to watch for anyone trying to convince her to journey out of the safety of her realm underground...
It hurt.
"We can do this, together. We shall rule over the Court, you and I,"
It hurt.
"I love you, Arthur,"
"I'll kill him," Arthur swore, pounding his fist into the ground, "I'll watch the light leave his eyes," he growled as the spirits around him enthusiastically cheered him on.
"What is Francis up to now?" he asked angrily. What he wouldn't give to wrap his hands around that monster's throat-
"I love you, too,"
Arthur growled lowly as Mint explained. Francis had been promoted by the Queen, of course, as some kind of hero. He had ascended to the position of advisor to her, one of her direct reports.
Arthur gnashed his teeth; that had been HIS honor. Francis had stolen it from him. Destroyed his life and then taken his place, as if he had never even existed.
And what was worse was that it was his own fault. He had trusted him, throwing open the floodgates to his own destruction...
What a fool he was.
"Keep an eye on him, Mint," he ordered, "I need locations. I need to know where he's heading, where he's been staying-anything and everything you can tell me is vital. I need-"
He froze as a shambling noise caught his attention.
Someone was running directly toward him, shrouded by darkness.
He gasped and crawled behind the building, dragging his walking stick with him as he pressed against the wall, heart hammering in his chest. Mint and the others had winked out of sight, not wanting to risk being spotted. Behind him, the figure dashed into the building and closed the door.
He gulped, trying to calm his erratic heart.
Was that...Alfred?
"Alfred,"
Alfred opened his eyes. He was looking up at a twilit sky, mottled reds and fiery oranges mixed with midnight blue. He sat up, disturbing the flowers upon which he had been laying. It was a balmy summer evening, with a warm breeze that ruffled his hair. Dark, wispy clouds moved lazily overhead, slowly changing shape.
"Alfred,"
"Who's there?" Alfred called as he looked around. The meadow was empty, his only answer the gentle bob of wildflowers in the evening wind.
He jumped as fingertips lightly touched his shoulder, whirling around with a surprised yelp.
"Did I startle you?" Arthur asked with a small smile, "Apologies,"
"Uh..." Alfred managed as Arthur's porcelain white hands cupped his face. He smiled, emerald eyes twinkling with a mischief that went straight between Alfred's thighs.
"Lovely evening, is it not?" Arthur asked quietly as he drew nearer. Alfred gulped nervously, heart pounding as Arthur brought their lips together. Oh, gods, yes.
Alfred tangled his fingers into Arthur's hair, drawing him down onto the ground with him, daring to move his hands along Arthur's back. He was all lean muscle beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, no doubt pale and beautiful and-
"Allow me," Arthur purred into his ear as he sat up and shimmied out of his shirt. Alfred could hardly believe what was happening, Arthur straddling his waist with his hands pressed onto Alfred's chest. He smirked down at him, tilting his head just so.
It was maddening. He felt as if he was going to burst.
"Arthur," Alfred breathed, gulping, "W-what now?"
Arthur laughed, that breathy chuckle Alfred had grown to love, as he leaned down and kissed Alfred on the lips.
"Whatever you want, Alfred," he murmured as they separated, running his hands through Alfred's bangs.
Alfred rolled on top of him with a grunt, panting with anticipation as Arthur seductively, luxuriously, spread out underneath him among the wildflowers, half-lidded green eyes twinkling as he grinned up at him. He was beautiful, a pale blossom unfurling on the dark field as Alfred hurriedly unclothed both of them. He loomed over Arthur, gulping nervously as he struggled to breathe. This was happening.
This was HAPPENING.
"Oh yes, Alfred," Arthur breathed a moment later, fingernails digging into Alfred's shoulders as he eagerly rocked into him, "Yes..."
It was incredible. The heat, the bolts of intense feeling coursing through him, Arthur's glassy green eyes watching his every motion-
"Faster, Alfred," Arthur pleaded with a low moan, "Please,"
Alfred happily complied, drinking in Arthur's praise.
"Alfred," he panted, "Alfred, wake up,"
"...what?" Alfred gasped as he sped up. He was close. He couldn't stop now. Not now, when his pleasure was about to peak.
"Wake up, Alfred," Arthur stated flatly...but that wasn't his voice, was it?
He abruptly froze as Arthur and the meadow disappeared.
"ALFRED, WAKE THE FUCK UP!"
Alfred's eyes sprang open as he flailed about wildly, entangling himself in the bedsheets.
"Finally!" Matt shouted from where he stood beside the bed, arms folded across his chest, "Took bloody forever to wake you up!"
"...huh?" Alfred managed stupidly. The throbbing between his legs was unbearable, searing and hot and very much in need of attention.
"Don't give me that," Matt snapped, face flushed in anger, "Just...ugh," he faltered, clapping a hand to his forehead, "Just...go take care of yourself, would you?" he managed, gesturing toward the doorway with one hand and covering his eyes with the other.
Alfred felt his entire body turn red.
"Oh," Alfred blurted, "Oh, gods, Matt, I'm sorry-"
"We'll talk after, all right?" Matt said as he shook his head, "Just...you know,"
"R-right," Alfred stammered as he leapt out of bed and ran outside. He hastily made his way out to the tool shed a short distance from their home, thankful that it was before dawn. Hopefully he wouldn't be seen by anybody in this state.
He threw the lock and closed the door behind him, leaning heavily against the wall as he panted for breath. Gods, what was wrong with him?
Arthur panted heavily from where he was hidden behind the wall of the shelter, heart pounding. He had just barely missed being seen-what in the world Alfred was doing running out into the field in the middle of the night was beyond him.
Mint whispered something to him, sounding panicked.
"Yes, Mint, I think that's a good idea," he murmured as he grabbed his walking stick and hurried back toward the house. She was right; it would be best for him to be safely tucked into bed when Alfred returned.
Moments later, Alfred stood in silence as his pleasure quickly ebbed away into shame. His poor brother. What had he said? What had he done?
"Idiot," he scolded himself as he shook his head. It wasn't his fault, though. He couldn't help what he dreamed about, right?
He ventured outside and drew water up from their well, washing up and thoroughly splashing his face. As much as he dreaded going back inside of the house, he knew that he had to.
Mustering what little of his dignity he had left, Alfred headed back inside.
"Matt, I'm so sorry," he stated as he stepped back into Matt's bedroom.
"Don't worry about it, Alfred," his brother insisted with a shrug. He was fully dressed, obviously unable to go back to sleep after the events of the early morning.
"What did I do?" Alfred blurted before he could stop himself.
"You didn't do it on purpose," Matt reasoned, "Don't worry about it,"
"...Matt, I kind of need to know," Alfred insisted. Oh no, what if he had said Arthur's name?!
His brother sighed, shaking his head.
"Nothing," he stated, "You just made a racket and tried to grab me, ya fuckin' lunatic,"
"...that's it?" Alfred blurted, relieved.
"Well that's bad enough, thank you very much," Matt snapped.
"I, uh...sorry," Alfred mumbled, "Really,"
"It's no big deal, Alfred," Matt said with a shrug, "We're only human, after all,"
Alfred frowned, looking down at the floor. While he was grateful that his brother was so understanding, Matt certainly had no reason to try and shame Alfred in this situation. Alfred had covered for his brother plenty of times over the years when he would feel the urge to run off with one of the village girls. Really, it had been a pain. He was glad that Irunya had captured his attention as of late; it meant he could stay out of any and all situations with girls Matt found himself in, which suited him just fine. Just because Alfred had...how did it go? "Bloomed late?" Yes that was it-just because he was a "late bloomer" wasn't an excuse to give him hell for something he couldn't control. He just hadn't been interested in anyone before now, really.
That didn't mean he wasn't embarrassed, though. How humiliating.
"So, did you figure out what he was trying to steal?" Matt asked suddenly, causing Alfred to look up. His brother was lacing up his boots, preparing to head to work for the day.
"He wasn't stealing anything, Matt," Alfred insisted hotly, "He just wanted to look at more of my...stuff,"
"To steal it and hawk it for something," Matt stated with an arched brow, frowning at him, "Alfred, you are far too trusting. I don't like thieves living in my house,"
"Well it's my house, too," Alfred grumbled.
Matt sighed, shaking his head.
"I know it is, Alfred," he said tiredly, "I just don't want you being taken advantage of,"
"By Arthur?" Alfred snorted, "Yeah, Matt, I'm terribly concerned about a crippled little thing like him. Shaking in my boots, even,"
"You know what I'm talking about. I don't like him," Matt stated firmly.
"Yeah and why is that, exactly?" Alfred demanded as he leaned on the doorframe, "You've hated him from the moment I brought him home,"
"I never said I hated him," Matt pointed out, looking down at the floor as Alfred leveled him with a glare, "I just...don't you think he's strange?"
"Why? Because he likes me? Because he actually wants to talk to me?" Alfred demanded.
"Oh, Alfred, come on-" Matt said, exasperated.
"No, you come on," Alfred hissed, "Do you know the number of times that I've been told that something's wrong with me? That I'm odd?"
"Alfred-"
"You don't get it, Matt," he blurted angrily, "Everybody likes you. All of the villagers look at you and say 'you know what? That there's a great guy. What a model citizen, putting up with his idiot brother who isn't good for anything,'"
"Alfred, that's not true," Matt insisted quietly.
"It is true," Alfred stated curtly, "You've just been too busy being popular to notice,"
Matt blinked at him, obviously hurt.
"Arthur takes the time to listen to me. And my trinkets? You know, the ones that are a complete waste of time? He calls them artwork, Matt. Artwork," Alfred continued, breathing deeply to calm himself.
Matt nodded slowly.
"So if you don't like him? Fine. But I do. And I will not have you scaring off somebody who gives a damn about me just because you decide you don't care for him. We understand each other?" Alfred said firmly, pushing off of the doorframe and stepping into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, Alfred," Matt said softly as he nodded, "I had no idea,"
Alfred nodded, turning and heading for the front door.
"Good," he grunted, throwing the door open, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a hunting trip to get ready for,"
He didn't wait for his brother's response as he closed the door behind him.
Notes: I have no idea what I'm doing. -_-
Eilidh translates to "light" or "Helen," and is pronounced Ellie.