Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling (Tom and Luna) and Neil Gaiman (Death and her family).
Author notes: This is part of several parts. Luna tries to warn her husband.
Till Death do we part
(continued. Part 2)
She decided to find small ways to express her displeasure.
There was never any need to fight, really. Violence never solved anything. She recalled when one fight over the location of her garden did become a little physical in the way of magic. He cursed and then, when he had conjured the biggest curse he could think of, she ducked.
Sadly, the whole left wing of their home was blown to pieces. It was fine, really, because apparently the whole countryside was littered with her dresses. Now, everyone could have a dress to go to their parties. Yet it was never an experience she would want to revisit.
And the one time she tried the 'silent' treatment, he had kept asking her questions. So she could never remain silent for very long, though she tried writing instead of speaking. But for some reason, possibly as a result of being silent, her handwriting would prove unreadable.
After they had left Death behind, alone in her bonds, Luna was determined not to let this slide or allow him to win. She had learnt from her earlier failures. It was time to voice her opinion.
"Tom, the crosswords came today," Luna reminded him. She looked out the windows. Some of their conquered land was a motley assortment. Some from dimensions they had broken, some from ancient lands that could not longer stay hidden, and some completely hand made…she supposed it was all very impressive. He had gotten a little addicted to the Atlantis scrolls, and Luna remembered a whole month of speaking in just Atlantian, to help him with his accent.
"There are epics written about what I've done, and you're excited about crosswords?" he asked. His back was turned to her and she couldn't read his expression or the weather of his mood.
"Who is writing your poem?" Luna inquired, suddenly curious.
"I prefer prose," he said over his shoulder in a haughty voice, quickening his strides.
"Poetry is easier to remember," she pointed out. "And poetry sounds better as a song!"
"No matter. I'd sooner get praise from the dead sea scrolls than from you."
Ah. His mood was black. "I'm an outsider on this particular venture. So I'm not the most reliable source for gratuitous compliments. That's usually your mirror's function, isn't it?"
His pace stopped. And he turned. Luna was still very short compared to his height, and she noticed that difference most when Tom decided to loom.
"If the mirror is broken, I can mend it," she offered.
"Look at me, Luna." Tom was like an ocean, Luna decided. You never knew what was lurking underneath his words.
Luna had chosen the rather charming place under his chin to stare down, a place free of eyes that could lock and unlock doors in her mind. "I am looking at you."
"Meet my eyes and then dare to speak to me in that same tone."
She thought that was a bad idea. "It was just an offer. I'm only trying to help. When you allow it."
He placed one of his long fingers under her chin and forced her head up. She closed her eyes.
"Capturing Death is one of those things most husbands would discuss with their wives," Luna said, feeling the calm before the storm. "You made nary a peep."
"What, I can't surprise you any more?"
"Well, I am surprised," Luna admitted, peeking up at him. That was a mistake. He had her, capture, and at any moment, a door in her mind could spring open.
"Yes? And do you like your surprise?"
"It is one of a kind."
"Do you like what I have done for you? What I have given to you at my own risk without any thought of repayment?"
Oh dear, Luna thought, and he caught her inner jargon like it was fish in a net. "Ah. So I have displeased you." He brushed one stray piece of hair over her ear, looking deceivingly placid.
"Have you…planned ahead, Tom?" Luna decided to ask. "You know Death is not finicky."
"You must think me a simpleton! Of course I have!" he growled, losing all facades of calm.
"Really? What about those who are suffering while we have been talking? Those who are waiting to pass on?"
"So."
She raised her eyebrows. "Death isn't finicky. I fancy it's a full time commitment."
"I've saved those poor souls quite a bit of pain. Death is not fate. It is a choice. If everyone were aware—if everyone knew as we know—that thief, that wretch, would not have so much control. But I am merciful. If their minds lend themselves too much to pain and they lose their usefulness, I will gladly let them depart."
"You…took her powers while you were there," Luna observed. He nodded, smiling. "Oh, Tom."
"Rather I took the key to her powers," he said, holding up a strange looking necklace she had seen before. "Think of it. Without us, it would be a meaningless symbol. Without lives to steal, there would be no Death."
"But you are planning on stealing lives…well, more than you usually do."
"I must. There are seasons to tend to and eras to end. And the weak to purge."
All right, Luna thought. This has gone far enough. Honestly, she looks away for one minute…
"You're right," she said, appraisingly. "Without life, Death would cease to exist."
Tom drew her closer, and she felt comfortable enough to continue. Though she knew what he was doing. Bringing her closer to disrupt her thoughts. "And really, we have always accepted Death at face value."
He rubbed a circle into her back with his hand, and she felt his warmth through her robes, and it was getting immensely difficult to disagree. Luna had to hurry.
"Though I wonder: what will the Others say?"
Tom paused and pushed her away to look at her directly, and she sighed sadly at the loss of his touch. It was a bitter victory. "Others? Oh, I see. You are trying to frighten me with more of your children's tales."
He laughed. "There isn't just Death. Death isn't even the oldest of the Others."
"And you know this how?"
"She told me so. She was very open about her family. They don't always get along but they do manage to pull together in a crisis. And this may count as a crisis, you know."
Tom stood still, the ankh held awkwardly in his hand. He actually resembled one of his statues he had added to her garden. Wide-eyed and somehow very childlike in his shock.
"Others?" he repeated.
"They are often called the Endless." Their proper title seemed to make him angry.
"Hah. The Endless, is it? We will see about that." His eyes flashed scarlet, and he loomed even more, and Luna felt very bad tidings indeed. "So, these Endless…tell me more about them."
"I only know two others besides Death," she replied softly.
"Let me guess," he said, taking on his former tone. "Life, right?"
"I don't know about that, but I do know Delirium. She's very nice."
He blinked. "What kind of being is that? You're losing your touch, my muse."
"I'm very serious!" Luna exclaimed, crossing her arms.
"Of course you are. And after her? Dullards, perhaps. Dottiness, perhaps? Maybe Lunacy, is she among your acquaintances?"
"You can make fun now," she declared, turning away in a flutter. "But you'll see."
She couldn't retreat entirely for he seized her around her waist. "Don't be so thin-skinned. Your only acquaintance now is Envy because I accomplished this alone."
"I don't mind," she said against his shoulder. "I'm used to not being included, you know."
"Oh no," he said, chuckling. "Well, you are the reason for this venture. You were my inspiration."
"What did I do to inspire this?" Luna demanded, secretly deciding never to do whatever she had done ever again. Never ever.
"Remember some weeks ago…when you refused the elixir for the fiftieth time."
Luna thought. Oh for Circe's sake. "When I coughed?"
"Well, it was more than that," he said defensively. Luna noted that they were strolling now, under the inner sanctum's grove. Tom had his left hand laced in her right, and the ankh clenched tightly in his right fist. She knew that the only reason that they were strolling was because Tom believed that he had gotten his way. She would have to prove him wrong.
Luna sighed and looked at the oghams above them. She also noticed his thumb stroking her highly sensitive hand, and the light tingling and that tight feeling that grew steadier across her body especially—she cursed mentally and glared at him.
"It was a cough. I was in the dungeons that week. It shouldn't be so difficult to keep them tidy for our guests."
"That would ruin the whole purpose of having a dungeon, Luna. Dungeons are not supposed to be tidy. They are supposed to be filled with promises of pain and endless, forced existence. Stop trying to clean them. And if I find any more of those flower necklaces down there, I will be very displeased, do you understand?"
"I should be allowed to cough," she continued in determination. "You've coughed before. I've even seen you. You couldn't blame it on a ghost then, you know."
"Yes, on occasion I cough, but I can't die."
"Actually, you would have a terrible, hacking cough the rest of your eternal life."
"Your point?"
"I would have to listen to it until I die," Luna said sadly.
"That's not very nurturing," Tom observed.
"You never take any of my elixirs, really."
"And you never listen to any of my suggestions. And now you will be with me for a very long time, hacking cough or not."
"I wouldn't leave you willingly, you know. You think I'm trying to get away from you through death. That's not true."
Tom stared straight ahead at her remark and he clutched the ankh even tighter.
"It's just the way of things. I don't know why you think you would enjoy me more later on rather than now."
"Enough. This is the last time we will speak of this. I have made my decision. And there is no going back."
"I know," she said, concerned. "I know all too well I'm going to make you a Dreamless Sleep draught tonight."
"Why, to set the wrench free while I sleep?"
"We aren't supposed to be talking about you know what," Luna reminded him primly. He had reached his realm, the one of endless research behind a closed door. Sometimes she was allowed in. Sometimes she was not allowed and Luna could tell this was one of those times.
"I advise against any plans stirring up in your head. I will know. And keep out of the dungeons. We have company, remember."
"You're going to have to trust me a little. Just a little."
She looked up at him gently, and she meant it. Despite everything, she wouldn't betray him. Despite that Tom thought she would.
He stroked her cheek with his unburdened hand, being both merciless and gentle. She leaned into his touch, feeling heartened.
"Go into your garden and we will do crosswords together later, I promise."
She smiled a bit sadly as he went down into the darkness of the forbidden corners of the castle. Where he kept all his secrets and countless trophies. Where he still remained the Dark Lord.
Sometimes she wondered why he chose her out of all of them. That…now that, in her opinion, had been the biggest surprise. Even his capture of poor, heedless Death couldn't top it.
With dread, she turned to her realm. The walls and pictures and air and the trees, oh the trees, seemed to sag in Despair, and Luna shuddered. She tried his door again, pulling on it fiercely so she could find some way to protect him. To her own despair, she found that he had sealed it from within.
She could summon him but she thought he would be too irate to listen or just think her silly. So Luna hummed a song about hope, to drive Despair away, and went about her business of making a dream catcher out of some spare bit of ribbons. She had a feeling that the very Furies themselves would be at their guests tonight.
&&&
And Luna's quite right to be worried. Death's family is not too far behind. :-) And a credit: Death isn't finicky goes to Crossgen comics. I've heard it in several of their issues.
