"Good luck, Alfred," Arthur said with a smile as he walked Alfred to the door. He was barely using his walking stick, only tapping it onto the floor a few times as he went to at least keep up appearances. Alfred, on the other hand, looked positively exhausted. Arthur had tried not to take too much from him the night before, but he had to be able to manage at least a jogging pace if he was going to try and stop Francis.

"Hey, look at you," Alfred said with a crooked grin, "You're movin' around pretty good,"

"Yes, well, I've had excellent care," Arthur murmured with a shy smile. He was leaving anyway, it didn't matter what the human thought of him, but somehow he didn't want to part on bad terms. Besides, watching Alfred's face turn pink was quite amusing to him.

The phrase had the intended effect as pale red blossomed out onto the apples of Alfred's cheeks. Funny, how those blue eyes lit up whenever he smiled like that.

"Well I like having you around, ya know," Alfred mumbled, embarrassed. He pulled the front door open and stepped outside, slinging his belongings over his shoulder and turning back toward Arthur. It was still dark, being just a few hours before dawn, but Alfred and his group were determined to get an early start to set up camp in the wilderness.

"I'll see you soon," Alfred promised, "And when I get back I'll play the pipes for you again!" he added cheerily, leaning down. Arthur hesitated for the briefest of moments before returning the gesture, pressing their lips together for what would be the final time. As he had expected, nothing passed between them this time, no spark or jolt of that wonderful power. Arthur had been correct in his approximations; had he taken more, Alfred could have been very ill this morning. That would have put a severe damper on his plans.

"That sounds lovely," he murmured, leaning against the doorframe, "Are you not going to say goodbye to Matthew?" he asked.

"Wake Matt up?" Alfred laughed, "Yeah, right. He sleeps like the dead. Besides, he'll be up soon enough anyway for work," he reasoned with a shrug, the items in his pack clanking together loudly. A few moments passed in silence, Alfred looking down at Arthur uncertainly.

"You'd best get going," Arthur advised with a smile, "Or they might leave without you,"

"R-right," Alfred agreed with a nod, "I'll be back real soon!" he promised as he waved and ran outside.

"Indeed," Arthur muttered after a pause, watching Alfred's silhouette disappear into the darkness.

He drew a deep breath, looking up at the sky. A few stars stubbornly remained, glittering at him tenaciously. He would need to wait for Alfred to be out of sight; it would be safer to wait until nightfall the following day. But if he left now, he might be able to catch Francis off guard.

He softly closed the door behind him and stepped into the cool morning air, clutching the walking stick Alfred had hewn for him in trembling hands.

He didn't have time to waste.

"Mint," he hissed as he lumbered into the darkness. He breathed a sigh of relief as he was surrounded by flickers of colored flame, a bright green one at the forefront.

"Thank you," he whispered, "Now let's go,"


"Soooo?" Gil leered at him as Alfred joined the group, "How'd it go last night, huh?"

"Shut up, Gil," Alfred snapped, shaking his head. Gods, he was exhausted. He had slept last night and all. Why was he so damned tired?

"Oh wait! Let me guess...hmm..." Gil whispered dramatically as he brought a hand to his chin in the lantern light bobbing above them, "You totally chickened out, right? He was all into making hot, sweaty marriage-bed love and you backed out like a lame ass,"

Gil cackled obnoxiously while Alfred went rigid. He prayed his friend didn't notice how close to the truth he had actually gotten. Arthur had been...very willing to share a bed with him, especially after their "marriage." He gulped; he hadn't actually apologized to Arthur for that. He hadn't had a chance to set the record straight, not with Arthur being so sweet and saying goodbye to him at the door like that.

When he got back from the hunt, that was the first thing he had to sort out. Absolutely.

Maybe.

"...Alfred?" Gil asked worriedly, waving a hand in front of his face.

"What?" Alfred grunted.

"You all right? You kinda...I don't know, looked...weird," Gil said with a shrug, "Listen, I was just joking. You know that," he said pointedly.

"...yeah," Alfred said half-heartedly.

Gil opened his mouth to continue, but was cut off by Fhinn. Barely visible in the dim lantern lights, he towered over the hunting party with folded arms.

"All right, listen up," he boomed, "Niall here'll be leadin' us into the woods to set up camp. We're going to set up a rendezvous point. From there, you lot'll split into groups and begin tracking. We'll meet back at sundown. Got it?"

After a murmured chorus of "yes, Sir"s, they were on their way. Alfred walked in back of the group with Gil, who had gone uncharacteristically silent. There were at least eight of them going hunting, based upon what Alfred could tell in the darkness.

"Alfred, you know I'm just kidding about the marriage thing," Gil said quietly after a while.

"Yeah, I know," Alfred sighed. What he wouldn't give to run back there and tell Arthur the truth, to look into those green eyes and kiss those lips again...assuming Arthur would let him, after lying to him like an imbecile.

"...maybe I shouldn't be joking about this," Gil said after a pause, "Alfred, you're not...do you...like him?" he asked breathlessly, as if he couldn't believe what he was insinuating.

"Of course I like him," Alfred snapped, defenses up, "He's a nice person and he listens to me,"

"That's not what I meant," Gil pressed.

Alfred sped up his pace, leaving Gil to trail behind.

"Hey," Gil hissed, yanking on his shoulder to halt him.

"What?" Alfred huffed. The last thing he needed was to be made fun of for this. He had no control over how he felt. Hell, he wasn't even quite sure what it was that he was feeling.

His friend looked him over worriedly, frowning.

"Hey, Alfred, if you...like him like that, it's all right," Gil reassured him with a nod, "There's nothing wrong with that, at least not to me," he added hurriedly.

"W-what?" Alfred blurted, flabbergasted. He had been expecting another sarcastic jab, not this. This was...beyond strange.

"I had a feeling something was going on between the two of you," Gil said with a soft smile, "And I'm glad for you. Really,"

Alfred wanted to protest, to berate him for accusing him of such a thing, but he just couldn't. He couldn't, because Gil was absolutely right. The realization washed over him like a tidal wave, overwhelming him.

"Oh gods," he muttered as his heart leapt into his mouth.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Gil reassured him.

"N-no, that's not...nothing's 'going on' between us, not like you think," Alfred whispered hurriedly, "I just..." he trailed off with a shrug.

"Like him?" Gil guessed.

"Yeah," Alfred breathed, running his hand through his bangs, "I guess it's just weird hearing it, you know?"

"Yeah, that makes sense," Gil said with a nod, "And your secret's safe with me, " he added with a smile.

"Thanks," Alfred choked, smiling weakly.

"Hey!" Fhinn's voice hissed at them through the darkness, "You two comin' or what?"

"Yes, Sir!" Gil and Alfred blurted, dashing to catch up to the rest of the group.


Alfred was truly in his element when he was out in the wilderness. The cool, early morning breeze rushed past him as he dashed between the trees. The ground was soft beneath his feet, covered in a fine carpet of pine needles and damp soil. The trees were dense here, providing excellent cover for animals during the night.

"Alfred, wait!" Gil hissed from somewhere behind him. Alfred just laughed as he sped up, drawing a deep breath of pine scent and morning dew. He halted in front of a glen between a rather thick stand of trees to investigate, Gil's wheezing quickly approaching from behind him.

He crouched down, noting how the soft blades of grass were bowed down. There was a musky scent to the air, intermingled with pine.

"What's-goin' on?" Gil panted as he caught up, hands on his knees.

"This is where they were bedded down last night," Alfred concluded, "Told you they'd be here,"

"How the hell-did you know that?" Gil exclaimed between huffs, "The whole goddamn forest-and you knew the elk would be-right over here?" he blurted, haphazardly throwing his arm out toward the glen.

"Told you I was good at tracking," Alfred laughed with a shrug, "If we're fast, we'll have time to set up for when they come out of the woods to feed,"

"Fast?" Gil blurted as Alfred took off running again, "Damn it, Alfred, WAIT!"


Day one of the hunt had been fairly successful, in Alfred's opinion. He had managed to map out the area and found several places where the party's intended quarry had recently been. Fhinn had been very pleased with his report, nodding slowly as a smile had crept over his square face. Alfred hadn't seen that look directed at him very many times...it made him happier than he cared to admit to see it now in the glow of the fire at their camp.

They had settled in a glen by the creek, in a series of hastily-erected tents clustered a few paces back from the campfire. None of them had managed to kill anything as of yet, so they were feasting upon the rations they had brought with them.

"Nice work, Alfred!" Niall praised as he sat beside him on the ground next to the fire, "We'll be bringin' an elk in before we know it!"

"Thanks," Alfred murmured as he bit into his portion of salted meat he had selected for his evening meal. The other members of the hunting party voiced their agreement, nodding at him approvingly.

"Say, Alfred, where'dja get that from?" Colin asked, gesturing to the wicked-looking spear resting on the tree behind where Alfred was sitting.

"Yeah, looks like somethin' you'd use to take out a fuckin' bear," one of the other men Alfred couldn't make out in the shadows commented.

"Or a goddamn demon," Gil pointed out as he nudged Alfred with his elbow; Alfred nudged him back with a snort.

"There aren't any demons out here, asshole," Kayne stated flatly as he brushed his black bangs from his eyes and walked over toward his tent.

"Oh, I don't know about that..." Fhinn said wryly as he shook his head.

"...what?" Gil blurted.

"You'd be a fool t' think that we're the only ones out here," Fhinn said quietly. Alfred frowned at how serious his expression was, how stern he appeared in the glow of the flames as he looked from one face to the next.

Everyone went completely silent, the crackling of the fire and occasional cricket the only sounds in the small glen.

"There're all kinds of Folk in these parts," Fhinn continued, eyes glittering in the firelight, "Some more dangerous than others, if you're careful,"

Alfred squirmed in his seat; something about the look in Fhinn's eyes whenever he discussed The Folk unnerved him. It was like a fire had been lit, flashing dangerously behind icy blue irises. He shuddered involuntarily, chewing on his lip.

"We're in the forest...that's where a lot of 'em like to hide," Fhinn's voice rumbled through the silence, "All kinds of 'em in these parts,"

"Pray that you never find the Banshee," he continued, leaning forward dramatically, "She stalks the night with eyes of blood red 'n' gnarled gray hair...the gaze from those eyes are enough t' kill a man on the spot," he paused, making sure his audience was still listening, "But you'll hear 'er before ya see 'er, ya will. Loud and piercing, shrieking t' warn of impending death-"

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Alfred leapt from his seat with a strangled yell, dinner askew as a horrific scream erupted from behind him. Gil swore and joined him as both of them darted forward and whirled around. And they weren't the only ones. The entire group on the right side of the campfire was on its feet, in varying states of surprise and anger. Gil immediately acted in favor of the latter.

"FUCK YOU!" Gil roared as Kayne burst into laughter from behind them, slapping his knees. Fhinn, Niall, and the other hunters on the other side of the fire joined him, laughing uproariously.

"You shoulda seen the lot of you fuckin' jump!" Kayne declared between guffaws, "Like a buncha goddamn sheep!"

"Fuck you, Kayne," Gil muttered as the group reluctantly returned to their seats, "Fhinn, even if there were Folk out here, we're not bothering 'em, so why should they bother us?" Gil insisted as he threw a glare at Kayne as he sat down across from him.

"Ah, but who's to say they're after us?" Niall asked with an unnerving smile that made Alfred's skin crawl, "Some Folk have particular prey in mind, you know,"

"Like what?" Alfred heard himself ask anxiously as his stomach lurched. He hated it when conversations turned to The Folk. It unnerved him to think that there were creatures of ill will creeping around in the darkness around him. The fact that they were in the middle of a forest miles from civilization only added to his anxiety...well, that and the memory of those strange floating lights from the night that he had found Arthur.

His unease heightened as Niall grinned, crooked teeth glinting in the firelight as he stood and stretched.

"Depends on their mood...and if they're hungry or not," Niall hissed as he began to slowly pace around the fire.

"All right, out with it," Colin snapped; Alfred was glad he wasn't the only one who was on edge.

Niall chuckled lowly, walking up to the campfire.

"You lads are about the right age..." he mused, taking a stick and poking at the fire. Fragments of smoldering wood erupted into the air with a sharp crackle, returning to the tendrils of orange and yellow soundlessly.

"Probably got your eyes on a girl, I'll wager, the lot of ya," Niall said with a shrug; Alfred was grateful for the darkness at that point, lest the others see the color in his cheeks. No, not a girl, but...yes?

"And?" Gil demanded flatly.

"And if you were wise, you lot'd be mindful of...the Gancanagh," Niall said with a wicked smirk as he returned to his place beside Fhinn.

"The what?" Gil asked flatly, tilting his head.

"The Gancanagh is one of the most deadly, conniving creatures out there," Niall continued mysteriously, "He finds a girl, you see, one that strikes his fancy. Then he'll disguise himself as the man of her dreams, wait for her to notice him while he's lazin' around, smokin' a pipe,"

Alfred blinked. Rather than horrified, he was fascinated. One of the Folk that could change its appearance at will, based solely on what his intended victims considered "attractive?" Fhinn had never told him this tale, not that he could recall.

"And when she does?" Niall added, taking a moment for a dramatic pause, "He approaches her, seduces her...and leaves her,"

"Asshole," Gil muttered under his breath, folding his arms over his chest.

"But that's not the worst part," Niall stated darkly, shaking his head as he looked from one captivated face to another, "Somethin' about the touch of the Gancanagh drives a woman mad. Can't live without 'im, after that one fateful encounter, you see. So she pines over 'im, only to have 'im never return. They go mad, they don't eat...and then they die," he added with a hiss.

Alfred's fascination quickly deteriorated into anxiety again at that.

"But still, other Folk prefer...children," Niall continued darkly, "Some of 'em will take babes from their cradles, swap 'em out for a Folk child who'll grow into a monster-a Changeling. They'll raise the human babe as their own...when they don't eat them inst-"

"Enough, Niall," Fhinn said gruffly as he rose from his seat. Alfred remained rooted to the spot, noting the familiar bite to his tone to indicate that he was angry. It was very slight, but definitely present. It didn't go unnoticed by the others, based upon the heavy silence that fell.

"Right," Niall grunted after a pause as joined him in standing.

"The lads will need some goddamn sleep if they're gonna take down an elk tomorrow," Fhinn reasoned flatly, "G'night," he added, gesturing for everyone to get into their tents for the evening as he stalked over toward his own.

"The hell was that about?" Gil whispered to Alfred as they crawled into their shared tent, "I thought Fhinn was gonna knock Niall out or something,"

"I don't know," Alfred admitted as he snuggled into the blanket he had brought with him, "But he definitely wasn't happy,"

"Fhinn talks about Folk all of the time, though, and I've never heard of that...whatever it was," Gil reasoned as he wrapped himself into his own blanket.

"Gancanagh," Alfred corrected, the name easily rolling off of his tongue.

"Right, that," Gil said with a yawn.

Alfred frowned as he watched the light of the fire die out from the thin canvas of his tent as someone doused it outside. While the Gancanagh tale was decidedly obscure, that wasn't what had made Fhinn angry. He had gotten irritable after the mention of Folk taking children and-

"Hey," Gil whispered suddenly.

"Yeah?" Alfred whispered back.

"You think...Elizabeth's smart enough not to fall for that...thing, right? The Gancanagh?" Gil asked, voice laced with worry.

"I'm sure she is, Gil," Alfred reassured him as he rolled over onto his back.

"Yeah..." Gil said quietly, "Yeah, she definitely is,"

Alfred was going to comment on how he didn't sound very confident, but was too absorbed in his own thoughts. Why had Fhinn gotten upset over talking about the Folk? It hadn't bothered him in the past. He and Matt had grown up hearing all about the Anwyn and Selkies, of the dreaded Red Caps and mischievous Leprechauns...but none of the tales ever had to do with the abduction and...consumption...of children. Well, Fhinn would threaten to leave him and his brother out in the Moor at night so the Folk could punish them if they had misbehaved on occasion, but never like the story Niall had woven around the campfire. And of course he had heard of Changelings before, but the assumption was that the human child would be raised as one of the Folk.

"Strange," he mumbled as he closed his eyes. He had forgotten how exhausted he had been at the beginning of the day, after saying goodbye to Arthur. Maybe Arthur had picked up obscure tales from his travels as a merchant. He'd have to ask him when he returned to the village.

Only a few more days. A few more days, and then he would see Arthur again.

A small smile crept across his face as sleep took him.


Arthur leaned heavily against one of the trees as damp, pine-scented forest air filled his aching lungs. Even with Alfred's added energy, he was still not at his full strength. It had been three days since he had left the village, yet there was not even a sign of any of the Folk. Something was off, horribly wrong, but he had to lie low until he knew what it was.

"Yes, I know," he whispered as Mint chirped feverishly at him, "I know, but I can't stop to sleep. For all we know, Francis could already be here,"

"I know, that's what I don't understand," he agreed as Mint's friend pointed out that there should have been contact with one of the forest Folk by now, "But they've always been reclusive, remember? They'd rather hide than fight," he added with a frown.

Indeed. They hadn't done him many favors during his days as a general, cowering in their burrows rather than coming out and defending their own territory. True, it had been partially Arthur's doing that the fight had spilled over onto their lands, but still.

He crept across the soft bed of pine needles, sharp eyes peering into the dim light. It was nearing dawn, and the forest was covered in a sheer cloak of silvery fog. The cool dampness clung to him as he pushed through it, illuminated here and there in the pale pastel colors of his companions. He squinted as a pleasant burbling met his ears; he was approaching the bed of a brook, flowing gently and innocently through the forest and down toward the home of his ancestors. He sniffed, breathing a sigh of relief when no taint of Unseelie poison met his nostrils. There was still time.

He stopped suddenly as movement caught his eye. A flicker, the faintest movement of something darting along the smooth rocks jutting from the water. The fluttering reappeared after a moment's pause, the palest shade of blue glinting from ethereal, pearly white.

"I have a message for you," he said lowly in the Old Tongue as he took a tentative step forward.

The movement ahead of him abruptly stopped, followed by the tiniest of splashes.

Arthur swore under his breath, looking around anxiously. He didn't have time for their games, not with the threat of Francis being so close. He knelt down close to the water, peering into the burbling creek at the kingdom hidden by Glamour from his own sight. Curious creatures, the forest Folk. Their unique mastery of magic was foreign to him, but that splash had to have signaled a retreat beneath the water. He knew their hidden world was there; it had to be.

"You are all in danger. There is a traitor in the Seelie Court who seeks the ruin of your forest and the water within it-you must act quickly," he hissed into the surface of the water. He squinted, worrying his lower lip as Mint and the others whirled around his distorted reflection.

A pair of vibrant, violet-colored eyes materialized in the water below, blinking up at him through a veil of shimmering pale blue hair. Hope soared into his chest; they were listening to him. One of them, at least.

"You must believe me," he pleaded fervently, "There isn't much time. You must rally your people, gather them together to stand and fight-"

He froze, blood running cold as a low rumbling caught his ears.

Laughter. A low, confident chuckle that he recognized all too well.

"Ah, Arthur. Is that you?" Francis said as Arthur leapt to his feet, "How...interesting to see you. And here, of all places?" he said smoothly, his thin lips curling into a smirk. He batted a strand of golden hair from his eyes and pinned it behind his ear, tilting his head.

"How are you faring?" he asked sweetly, piercing sapphire eyes meeting smoldering emerald ones, "I heard that you were treated...rather poorly, on your way from the Court," he added in that singsong voice of his, slowly looking from his right hand, then down to his feet with a wicked smile.

"But, then again," he mused with a bored sigh as he took a step toward him; Arthur's fingers flexed instinctively, prepared to strike, "such is fitting for a traitor of the Court, am I right? And dressed in the rags of mortals, hm? How strange,"

"You are the traitor here, Francis," Arthur snarled bitterly as Mint screeched a few choice words at the man before him, "I know what you're planning, and I'm going to stop you," he added confidently, fire rising in his belly.

He glared as Francis laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh, are you?" he mocked, folding his arms casually across his chest, "I'm afraid you are far too late for that, my dear Arthur,"

Arthur scowled at him and said nothing, flicking his eyes around him for any signs of reinforcements. He came up empty, surrounded on all sides by evergreens and the damp morning fog. Dawn was breaking, casting long shadows through pale orange among the trees.

"You suggest reinforcements," Francis sighed as he shook his head, "when there simply are none to be had. It appears I missed one, however...there are always stragglers, aren't they? Such a pain," he mused, glancing down at the burbling water as Arthur felt his stomach plummet.

"No matter. I can take care of that later on," Francis stated as he unfolded his arms and slowly approached, cracking his knuckles.

Arthur stood his ground, clenching his fists as the other man stalked toward him, elegantly raising his arm and outstretching his slender fingers.

"It was a pity that you had to be sacrificed, but...just stay still, and I'll make this as painless as possible-" Francis promised, stretching out his arm toward him. Arthur swung his fist upward with a grunt, a tendril of bright green flame bursting forth as a shock of blue lightning crackled from Francis's palm.

They both hit the ground, scrambling to their feet as they glared at their opponent. Arthur's leg was screaming at him in pain, but he refused to give in. He was powered by sheer rage, vision tinged red at the sight of the disgusting creature before him.

Francis scowled at him, eyes flashing with rage.

Mint and the others retreated to the water's surface, chattering into it as much as they could, but Arthur barely heard them as he prepared another attack.

He was going to kill this man.

Far above them, a robin chirped uncertainly.

He was going to kill this man. Slowly.


Notes: The Banshee is one of the more famous of the Folk from Celtic lore. To hear her wail is to hear her announcing someone's death. Come across her in the wilderness, and things will not go well for you at all. Same with the Red Caps, which are vicious creatures whose hats are stained red with the blood of their victims. The Anwyn were usually depicted as much more peaceful, living in the Welsh equivalent of the City of Atlantis under the sea. Not all Anwyn dwelt in the oceans, however, and others were known to inhabit areas around inland waters. The Gancanagh is a rather unique creature, having parallels to the lore about the Incubus. Instead of attacking people in their sleep, however, the Gancanagh would only seek out one victim at a time, taking careful steps to make sure he looked precisely how the intended victim would like her lover to appear. He shows up as kind of a loner, standing out in a field or leaning casually against a fence with a smoldering pipe. Thing is, he never smokes it (there is lore suggesting that the Fae don't like smoke). Maybe he thinks it just makes him look cool, like an old timey Clark Gable smoking a cigar.

As for Changelings, they were Fae children swapped for a human baby in the cradle. Sometimes, the exchange would involve the actual Fae infant. Other times, the Fae would leave an enchanted chunk of wood instead that would only look and act like a baby for a finite period of time. After the spell wore off, the bewildered human parents would be left with a block of wood in the cradle instead of what they thought was their child. If an actual baby was left, and the Changeling child was well cared for, there were times where the Fae parents would decide to take the child back and return the human baby. If not, the Changeling would be raised as a human until they realized that something was off about their son or daughter. There are several methods for getting a Changeling to reveal himself or herself, the oddest one I've found yet being to boil eggshells and serve them as food to the Changeling. The Fae child will be so confounded by the parents serving such a thing that he/she will spout a poem stating his/her disbelief. Obviously, no human child is going to have poetry memorized specifically dealing with eggshells (at least, I wouldn't think so. Who knows? Maybe). Once the Changeling realizes that the jig is up, he/she usually leaves the house by climbing up through the chimney. Weird stuff.