Alfred's POV...
2 week later...
Alfred was reading a few pamphlets in his chamber, absentmindedly running his hands through his hair. He was currently about 3 weeks away from the island of britain, hopefully 3 weeks away from Arthur. He sighed at the thought of him, scratching his neck. Right about now, on a normal day, the brit would be sleeping peacefully beside him, breathing softly and cuddled up against his body pillow. Then he would wake up out of nowhere, say he wanted breakfast and give brief instructions as of how he would like it. However, he would be back asleep before the food already came, and would eat it an hour or two late. The prince saw it as a bad habit, but he never had the heart to wake his mate up, he was far too cute when he was asleep.
A knock on the door took the prince out of his thoughts. "Come in." The door swung open to reveal John, the harold. "Yes?" The older man sat beside the prince silently. Alfred hummed for a moment before going back to his panphlets. "If you aren't gonna say anything..."
"You won't be home in time for your coronation." John said, but the prince frowned.
"That was obvious. I'll just move the date." Alfred sounded annoyed. Did he just come here to say that?
"If Arthur is on the island, with his brothers... what will you do?" He asked suddenly. Alfred set down his pamphlet on the mattress, sighing.
"So that's with this is about?" He sighed. "My priority is retrieving Arthur, not seek revenge on the red head." He turned to look at the older man. John looked at him with steely blue eyes, eyes that seemed to say that Alfred's words were unreliable.
"If Arthur doesn't want to be retrieved?" He asked, and Alfred was taken aback.
"Of course he'll want to come back. Don't say otherwise." He snapped. The last thing he needed was doubt. John looked unphased.
"A month is a long time, Alfred. They are his brothers." He continued. "He's known them for years, and he's known you for less than 6 months." Alfred shook his head with a groan. He didn't need this right now.
"John, I said-"
"Sometimes it doesn't matter what you say, Alfred. Sometimes you need to prepare yourself for rejection." He grabbed the prince by the shoulder. "So if Arthur rejects you, he is not boarding this ship back." He declared. "He decides where he wants to be and who he wants to be with. If he choses his family over you, you just have to suck it up and deal with it, do you understand?" Alfred looked at him with wide eyes. Who the hell did he think he was?! How dare he? He didn't make the rules... Arthur wouldn't just end things... He doesn't know anything, he's just a pessimist. He just lacks faith... Arthur would never... could never...
"Shut up and get out." The prince muttered. He ignored how breathless he sounded, and he wouldn't make eye contact with the older. "Now." He ordered, but John wouldn't move. "I said now!" His voice cracked slightly and he let out a frustrated groan. "I said get the fuck out! Get out! Why are you still here?!" His eyes were on fire. "John, I s-said get out! Just leave! Go! Why did you even come!? Leave me alone! Get out!" The prince stood up, pointing at the door. "Through there, get out!" Howver, John sat firmly, looking at the young prince with warm eyes.
"Alfred, calm down." What...
"What the fuck do you mean calm down?! You can't just expect me not to get angry when you tell me that my mate won't come back to me!" He screamed, and John shook his head.
"I didn't say that."
"Yes you fucking did!"
"No, I didn't, Alfred."
"Yes you fucking did! You did! Now get out!" He was shaking in anger. The old man sighed heavily.
"No."
"..." Alfred stared at him in immense confusion. "No?" John nodded, and the prince scowled. "Get out, this is the last time." John didn't move. "Fine, then I'm leaving!" He said, storming towards the door.
"I sometimes feels bad for you, my boy." John said, and the prince stopped. Excuse me? "You used to be so happy, and it hurt me to watch you become... whatever it is you are." Alfred furrowed his brow. What? "You are good natured, but that part of you isn't expressed. You have become, truly, a shell of your former self." Alfred turned slowly to face his guardian. "Emotionally, you are stunted, still that 11 year old boy who forgot how to cope with his emotions, so he hid it. Has Arther ever seen this boyish side of you? The uncontrolled side of you?" Alfred bit his lip, looking down as warm tears streaked his cheek. "You, despite your strength, are weak. You know that, which is why you want Arthur so bad. He lacks physically, but he is firm mentally. All the chaos in his life had only aided his emotional development. You want him because you think he'll be the perfect half for you. It's about you." Alfred shook his head.
"I love him."
"Sure... but does he still love you?" Alfred opened the door.
"Please leave, now." He said softly. John stood up slowly.
"Arthur's stong enough to leave you. So you need to be strong enough to let him go." He left the room, closing the door behind him. Alfred wiped at his tears, locking the door. He's not a shell of himself, he can smile and joke and laugh exactly like he used to. Theres just nothing to be that happy about. How could he be the same anyways, he had matured is all. His sense of humor has changed, he's still the same person...
Maybe, but John may have a point. I wasn't awake through a portion of your life, but you are nothing like you were before the accident.
"Shut up. I was all jocund after the accident too, they mean before going to England."
What happened in England? Alfred narrowed his eyes. Everything, really.
"I had to kill alot of people, burn cities, watch as an entire country fell into ruin." He counted off. "I don't see how I could have kept my happy personality set. Especially once father left, I was in charge. I didn't have time for jokes, or friends really. I only really talked to Davie."
So you became recluse?
"No, people saw me everyday. I just worked hard and alone." He retorted.
Dude, well maybe you just need to chill, go do things that remind you of your past. Alfred scoffed.
"One, were in the middle of the ocean, two, I'm still looking for Arthur." He sighed heavily. He threw himself on the bed, breathing in the pillow.
We're on a boat?
"Yes?"
Oh, I should pay more attention.
"Okay, you do that." Alfred hummed, and his subconcious scoffed.
What's with the humming, you never used to do that. Stop it. Alfred scowled, groaning, not in the mood to argue to an invisible entity.
Arthur's POV...
"Good job, now all you need to do is throw it." Dylan instructed, and Arthur nodded. He blinked wildly through his sweat and swung his arm in an over hand motion, watching as the mass of earth he was holding up in the air fell no more than 10 yard from him. He groaned as he fell to his knees, exhausted. That was his 7th attempt, nowhere near the 30 yard mark he was supposed to reach. "Again." Dylan said sternly, and Arthur swore.
"I think I'm gonna pass out." He complained. He looked up at Dylan with pleading eyes. The older had his light brown hair parted to the right, his warm green eyes and smile emitting security. Surely he'll let him rest a bit.
"So?" He said sharply, and Arthur looked taken aback. Huh? "You need to throw farther. Once you make it at least past 25 yards, you can have a break." Arthur groaned in protest. "Get up and throw again." The brit stood up wobbily, trying to ignore the feeling of his muscle tearing from his bone. He looked over at the cliff about 1 mile away and commanded a large chunk of earth. From there they can here the cliff crack and the sound of tumbling rocks. That was usually a sign of the bolder being detached. Now, the hard part was up next: keeping the boulder floating high enough of civilians not to see it and maintaining that height for an entire mile.
The brit panted as he focused on bringing the rock forth. In a few moments he would have to communicate with the hunk of rock, he needed to make sure he didn't fuck up like last time. "O powerful earth, I beseech you." He whispered. After a long moment of no response, he groaned, repeating himself a little louder. "O great earth, I beseech you!"
And who are to importune me? Muttered a deep voice in the front of Arthur's head. Oh, okay.
"My name is Arthur Pendragon, a humble servant of nature. I call on you for your cooperation." He said, and Dylan hummed in confusion. You see, you never ask for permission, you just take it. However, for the last 7 times that hadn't worked so maybe his approach was off. "I would like to toss you."
Excuse me?
"I know, I know. That is a very inconvenient thing to ask of you, but please believe me when I say I won't drop you too hard." He promised, and the voice growled.
You took me from my home for practice?!
"Yes, and I'm sorry. I really didn't have a choice-"
What can I do anyway!?
Arthur cleared his throat, his outstretched arms shaking. He wouldn't last too long. "Please make yourself lighter."
Hmm...
"Please, I beg of you. You are far too heavy I won't be able to keep you floating like this if you weigh 2 tons." The omega pleaded, and the boulder groaned.
Alright, but only for my own safety...
Arthur's arms stopped shaking, the boulder now weighing a fraction of what it was a moment ago. The boulder then came in sight, moving much faster than any of the other ones, and soon it was hovering over Arthur's head. The brit raised his arm back and lurched it forward, the boulder flying through the air. It landed much farther than before, and the brit panted in anticipated success. That was well over 25 yards. Dylan disappear suddenly and resappeared as fast as he left. He sported a surprised expression that slowly turned into a smile. "34 yards." Arthur whooped. and Dylan slow clapped. "Go take that break before Seamus comes to get you." He said as he vaporized into a soft mist, travelling almost with the wind.
~~~~Wounded Knight~~~~~
"Do it again." Seamus ordered. Arthur swore underneath his breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Don't catch an attitude with me, laddie. It won't end well for you." He warned. the brit sucked his teach, annoyed out of his mind, but he stopped cursing. "Good, now do it again." He repeated and Arthur grabbed the bright shiny red apple in front of him, holding it to his chest.
"Thou has foresaken God, and in turn he has foresaken you. Thus, our mighty lord sent me to deliver to you your long awaited reckoning, and bring you closer to your punishment." He muttered in Latin. The apple in his hand became extremely warm, the encantation working. "I shall deliver your soul back to my master, and he will cast you down to eternal damnation." The apple began to smoke, Arthur coughing. Beads of sweat cascaded down his forehead from the intense heat of the apple. "He shall revoke thee admittance to his paradise, just as thee revoke the teachings of good-will." He shook as his hands burned, twitching in pain. "With that, I repel thee-" The apple bursted before he could even finish, leaving him a sticky mess. He groaned, flicking the remaining apple from his hands.
"Do it again." Seamus ordered, and the younger brit felt his left eye twitch. He breathed in and out, slowly walking away. "Where are you going, Arthur? I said do it again." Seamus said against his ear, Arthur flinching. How did he get here so quickly? The taller wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck from behind, squeezing threateningly. "I told you not to catch an attitude. When you fail, you try again, that's how people learn." He growled. Arthur felt his body shake involuntarily in fear, but he knew he was in real kind of danger. "Now stop being a stupid child, and fucking do it again." He ordered, unraveling himself from the younger.
"No." He mumbled in response, but at this point he was just trying to be difficult. "I'm tired and my hands feel like they're going to fall off. So fuck off, git." He growled softly, walking away again. He made it 10 feet away before he felt a burning sensation on his left calf. Arthur hissed in pain, but it was bearable, and he continued to walk. "Stop being immature. We'll continue these lessons when I feel better." He decided, and the pain stopped. Oh, did he relent? Suddenly the ground shook and a sizeable body of water appeared in front of the brit. Then out of nowhere, he was pushed in. The water was freezing cold, Arthur swearing as he tried to get up. However, his head was quickly forced down into the water, leaving him unable to breath. He struggled and thrashed, but his blows did no damage to his attacker, and he was left powerless.
His vision was getting darker, and he finally resorted to pushing on the ground around the water. His heart rate was through the roof, and water was now quickly filling his lungs. If he could cry out, he would, but he quickly began to lose strength in his limbs, eventually ceasing his struggling. He felt himself slipping into unconsciousness when he was suddenly pulled out. He was tossed to the side, coughing up the water from his lungs. He panted as he caught his breath, rolling over to his side, quietly searching for his attacker. Was it Seamus? The Beast? Despite his oxygen intake being returned to normal, he still felt his conscious slipping.
"Seamus!" He called out. "Seamus!" Arthur couldn't hold on long enough to even hear a reply before he passed out.
Alfred's POV...
He was quietly reviewing his notes when there was a second knock on the door. He hesitated to call to the door, not wanting another interaction with John. It was extremely late, around 2 am. Instead of saying his typical 'Come in' He asked who it was. There was no reply at first, so he had repeat himself. "Who is it?"
"John." Came a slow reply. Alfred swiftly told him to go away but the old man walked in anyway. "Listen to me, our last conversation didn't go too well." He sighed, approaching the prince, who just decided to be the bigger person and ignore him. "I would like to apologize." He said sternly, and Alfred rolled his eyes. He would always say this whenever he offended Alfred. "I didn't want to make you upset." He continued, kneeling in front of the prince, who was sitting at his desk." He grabbed the prince's hands and squeezed. "But I had to make sure my words made it through you."
Alfred could feel his blood boil, but he remained silent for the sake of his resolve. John sighed heavily, making unbreaking eye contact with the younger. After a few moments, the prince finally spoke, voice low and hoarse. "I forgive..." He offered. John quirked a brow, and Alfred felt his heart drop. The older would always make that face whenever he wanted him to elaborate. "I... I know you just want the best for Arthur, and I'm glad you care for him and want him to be happy..." He swallowed harshly, heat rising to his cheeks in frustration. "But you don't have to use that as an excuse to go off on me." He growled, and john looked confused.
"Alfred, I wasn't going off on you at all. And Arthur's future wasn't an excuse to make you angry." John said back, ignoring the prince's growl. Alfred shook his head wildly, standing up annoyed. He had no idea why it took him so long to realise, but it just clicked.
"You're still mad that I left him alone with a stranger." He accused, and the old man could only watch as the prince paced the room. "You think it's my fault this happened." John sighed, sitting down on the chair the prince just left. Alfred slowly approached the older man. "You blame me for what happened." Eventually, the prince was a mere two feet from the harold, kneeling down in front of him. John slowly placed a hand on the other's cheek.
"Alfred, you couldn't have known." He comforted, wiping the warm tears from the younger's cheeks. "It wasn't your fault, I know that... it's just... this isn't the first time you've let him get hurt. I just want you to be ready for the time he, as an omega, chooses his safety over his feelings." Alfred shook his head in disagreement, but continued to listen. "I need you to be ready in case it happens. You need to be strong enough to return to your your country and be king. I don't have a doubt in my mind that Arthur will choose you. Your mother-"
"I hate her."
"Don't say that ab-"
"I said I hate her!"
"Alfred! This isn't the time, and I'm not the person to say that to." John warned. "She loves you and Matthew. She means well."
"She's awful." The prince spat. John growled, and Alfred growled back. The older man pinched Alfred's nose in response, and the younger, despite himself, chuckled. "I don't know what you see in her." John chuckled.
"She's beautiful." He sighed. Alfred shrugged, not going to call his mother hot. "Especially before you were born." Alfred hummed, and John hummed back. "I could hardly keep my hands off of her."
"Even after she got married." Alfred continued for him. John shrugged. "If it weren't for the fact that my father had a row of mistresses, I would have outted your affair." He deadpanned. John, once again, shrugged.
"Glad to see that you're better." He muttered, and Alfred rolled his eyes.
"Get out of my room, you're old and should be getting sleep." The prince advised. John let loose a mighty laugh and stood up, hand on his back, feigning pain. "Don't let the door hit you." Alfred reclaimed his seat, once again reading his notes as the door closed softly.
Arthur's POV...
Arthur woke up with a start in his room, pulling his knees up to his chest and checking his surroundings. No one was present. He sighed, trying to remember the last things that had happened to him. He had practice with Seamus... and then the little argument. Arthur felt more tired than usual, standing up and stretching. His shirt, he could feel, was damp. Did he get wet?
That's when it all hit him, flashes of the attack returning. Someone had just tried to kill him. He stumbled around the room, his elevating panic causing him to lose balance. Someone tried to drown him! Someone is after him! "Seamus! Seamus!" He screamed, sinking to the floor, the room around him blurring out and spinning. "Seamus!" He cried out once more, but he couldn't hear his own voice. He tugged on his hair as a piercing ring vibrated through the room. "Seamus!" He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the noise to abate. It did eventually, and the brit slowly opened his eyes. However, he wasn't in his room.
It was night time, and it was almost pitch black out. The brit, however could make out a few things. There was an old house on the side of the road. There were birds all over the front of the house, and the field around it was lush with weeds and potatoes. He approached the house, not recognizing it one bit. He was standing just across the street from the house when the door suddenly opened and a young teen girl slunk, pulling a hood over her head. Just then, it began to rain, but the brit couldn't feel the droplets. He called out to the girl, but she began to walk in his direction. "Hello?" The girl was about 3 feet from him now, walking on as if she could not here him. "Excuse me? I-" The girl walked right passed him, or rather, right through him. He was mist, he wasn't really there. Well, great.
The brit walked right across the street and when he got to the front door of the shabby house, as suspected, he could walk right through the door. The inside of the house was cozy, to say the least. It had a fire place, animal heads on the wall, two couches. The brit gave a little spin. There was a staircase that lead up and downstairs, probably to the bedroom. Why was he here?
"Arthur?" The brit jumped at the utterance of his name, snapping his head in search of the voice. The voice was followed by some footsteps coming down the stairs. Arthur took a few steps back towards the door, in case it wasn't his friend, but the voice was definitely familiar and the brit felt his excitement rise. A man with shoulder length blonde hair with ice blue eyes appeared at the bottom of the staircase. His nose was slightly upturned, and his lips were plump. His figure was curvy and he stood at around 5 feet and 4 inches.
"Chancy?" The brit practically ran forward and frenchman did two, the pair colliding harshly and falling to the floor. "Chancy?" He couldn't believe it. What was going on?
"Arthur, where are you? Are you safe? Are you okay?" He asked, scrambling to his knees. His eyes were wet, the brit could tell, and so he couldn't resist pulling him back into a hug. They stood like that for a moment before Chancy finally pulled away. "Arthur? Tell me everything that happened." The brit nodded, standing up and sitting on the couch.
"Okay, but tell me where Alfred is." The brit demanded. Was he alright? Was he doing fine?
"Alfred and John are on their way to England to look for you. Are you there?" Chancy asked, and the brit nodded, looking down. He's coming for him? He didn't give up? Arthur felt his eyes water, but he held back his tears.
"Yeah, I'm with my brothers." Chancy's expression turned dark, so the brit explained. "They found me in a cave. When we went to the town hall in that one town, this beast kidnapped me and held me captive in a cave in England for days. They found me about 2 weeks ago and have been helping me regain my strength." Chancy sighed, relieved. "What's going on here?" The brit asked suddenly, and Chancy quirked his brow.
"This is my dream scape. I needed to make sure you were alive. It took me a few tries, but I finally got it down." He said, and Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"The room was spinning and there was a ringing noise..." Chancy bit his lip and shrugged.
"Sorry, I used my mirror as a way to congure instead of the lake in the palace." Arthur nodded before slowly piecing things together.
"You used the mirror this time and the room was distorted. You used the lake last time... so I almost drowned. You were the that drowned me!" Arthur shoot up, looking down at the frenchman with heated eyes. Chancy looked shocked and confused before something dawned on him.
"I'm sorry. The spell was going to pull you through the puddle swiftly but then Davie and his parents stormed up to me and the spell was interrupted. I tried to ignore them but them one of them agitated the water and the connection was lost." Chancy explained with a pained smile. "I didn't mean to hurt you." The brit groaned, sitting down again, shrugging.
"It's fine, I guess." He said, and Chancy slowly moved closer to him until he was close enough to bury his nose in Arthur's neck. Arthur fliched a little bit, but allowed the action, breathing in a little of Chancy's scent. He looked around the room for a bit. "Is this your old house?" He asked suddenly, and Chancy simply nodded. "Oh, it's... cozy." Arthur complimented, and the frenchman looked up at him.
"My mother's in the next room, do you want to meet her?" He asked, and the brit was confused.
"Isn't this a dream?"
"Yes." Chancy answered. "But before you arrived, my mother came to say hi. She does that sometimes because it's a more efficient way to communicate than letters." He stood up and walked over to the stairway, waiting only for the brit to follow. Arthur sighed softly and stood up, making his way after Chancy. The stairs were narrow, so Arthur had to walk behind Chancy and not next to him. When they got to the top of the stairway, there were three doors. Chancy quickly walked towards the door on the right, knocking twice before poking his head in. He then began to speak in French. "Mommy, my friend is here, and he wants to me you."
Thats when the brit relalized for the entirety of their conversation they were indead speaking in English. Did Chancy pick up the language that fast? "Oh, oh my... uh, does he know about my..." She trailed off, and the brit could here the discomfort in her voice.
"They're just burns, mommy. He'll be fine." The then turned to the brit and whispered to him. "She was burned at the stake a few years back, and she has some scars. Try not to stare." He informed. The brit recalled that fact having something to do with teen girls. Chancy opened the door and walked in, Arthur following closely behind. The room was similar to the room in the hotel, actually, exactly like the room in the hotel. Chancy must have read his mind, because he addressed the subject. "I've never seen the inside of my mother's room before, so I used the image from the hotel to fill the void." He explained. That made sense.
Arthur cleared his throat and introduced himself to the women sitting down in the arm chair. "My name is Arthur Pendragon, it's nice to meet you." He said in French with a bow. The woman nodded, impressed before replying.
"My name is Iridessa Cecelia Lafayette. It is a pleasure." The Woman had long flowing blonde locks that reached the floor. Her skin was smooth and pale, and her eyes were an icy blue. Her nose was straight and her lips were plump. He couldn't see any burns, and he didn't look a day over 30. Though she was sitting down, it was clear Chancy took his figure after her. It was as if the woman could read his mind because her cheeks became pink and her smile was contagious. "Yes, I know, I do look very much like my son." Arthur took a seat next to Chancy, who sat on the bed.
"Mom, I told you you're still attractive." Chancy teased, and the woman swatted his embarrasing words away.
"But the burns-"
"With all due respect, I don't see any burns" Arthur interjected, and Chancy shook his head.
"Most of the scars had healed already, there's just a little bit behind her ears, but no one could see it because of her hair." Arthur nodded in understanding. He looked at the woman and looked away after a few seconds so it didn't look like he was staring. She was truly gorgeous.
"Stupid Americans, all they're ever good at it hindering beauty." She complained to herself, before covering her mouth. "No offense to your mate." she quickly added, Arthur looked at Chancy. She knew? "My son tells me everything." She explained, a little flustered. "A Kirkland boy..." Arthur bit his lip, a little nervous. "I knew your parents, beautiful couple." She said, making a glass of wine appear out of nowhere.
"You knew my parents?" Arthur was once again excited. "How? When?" Chancy and his mother mother chuckled nicely.
"Well, I only said a few words to your father, but I knew your mother for decades. Since birth, really." She took a sip of her wine. "I was a friend of her mother back in her youth. I would travel all over the world: Baghdad, Italy, Spain, Canada. We met in Lancashire, though, I was there on business. She was a pregnant woman at the time, with your mother. Her husband had just disappeared, you see, out of thin air about 4 months into her pregnancy. By the time I had met her, she was about to pop. She didn't look phased though, she had a home, a coven, who would take care of that child alongside her, she didn't miss her husband. We bonded over witchcraft, and I delivered her baby. I lived in Lancashire for perhaps the next decade, and I helped teach your mother magic alongside your grandmother. Your mother was just the cutest thing: Whole front row of teeth gone because she though she was strong enough to fight one of the pigs. She was adorable, it broke my heart when I had to leave, my own coven catching up to me and forcing me to return home." She sighed, annoyed.
"Did you ever see her again?" Arthur asked.
"Why yes, almost a decade later when she walked into my dreamscape to personally invite me to her wedding. That's when I met your father. He was such a handsome man. He knew about your mother's coven and magic, he didn't seem to care one bit. He decided to take her last name to keep his hidden, however, and I understood why."
"You know why he left the thrown?" Arthur asked, and she nodded her head.
"He couldn't stand the job, and the royal courts annoyed him. He went on a walk one day, and he just decided to runaway. He claims it wasn't that hard." She said, and Arthur shook his head.
"That idiot."
"I said the same thing." She nodded. "But, I guess it worked out for him, he met the love of his life, and had a beautiful family."
"But those stupid Americans." Chancy interjected, and his mother nodded.
"I hadn't seen them since the wedding, but I'm guessing they are no longer with us." She said softly, and the brit nodded his head. "Igraine was a beauty."
"Do you mind me asking your age?" Arthur asked softly. "I'm just curious because you knew my grandmother so..."
"Oh, not at all." She said with a grin. "I'm a little under 300 years old. I stopped aging though, like most witches. Iggy never looked a day over 25." She commented.
"But I'll age right?" Arthur asked, and She shrugged.
"It depends on whether you want to or not. All of those tall tales about witches wanting youth make no sense. A little rose water and a light encantation will turn you into any age you want. I've never eaten a human heart, yet here I am, looking as I did on my wedding day. If you want to grow old with your mate, you will." She cleared up. Hmmm.
"You're married?" She looked up and smiled.
"Yes, to the most beautiful man-"
"Mom-
"Chancy, hush. Your father is still handsome." She scolded, and her son shrunk back. Arthur turned to him in time to see the discomfort in his eyes.
"We don't need to talk about your father." Arthur assured, and Chancy smiled appreciatingly.
"Oh, alright, I guess no one cares about ancient war heroes."
"Mom!"
"War Hero?" Arthur asked, and Chancy groaned. The brit patted his thigh in apology before Irridessa spoke.
"Yes, Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, the love of my long arduous life." Arthur quirked a brow, but Chancy growled. "Chancy, stop, or else I'll bring him here." She threatened, and Chancy whined.
"Mom~~~~~"
"Daddy loves you very much, now stop being a baby. How did you expect him to react, huh? You mated without our permission, did you want us to crack oven a bottle? He's furious with you." She gave her son a firm look. "He doesn't even know about witchcraft. He's an Irish Catholic!" She continued to scold.
"It doesn't matter where he's from mom, it should be enough that I love him." He shot back calmly. "If you and dad meant any of the words you said when you told me to follow my heart, why does it matter? We're mated now."
"For now." She shot back. "Your father is furious, and he'll probably stop at nothing." She warned. "He won't let our grandchildren be catholics, or christian, or anything but pagan." She continued. "Whatever happens to Geoffrey happens, but the children you give birth to, will be pagan."
"We'll see about that." He said, slowly griping his stomach. Arthur quirked a brow before interjecting just one point.
"Davie is a really good man, though. Try not to let his faith blind you." He advised, and Irridessa scoffed.
"You should tell that to Davie's mother then." She retorted, and the looked confused. "Oh, he didn't tell you yet? That old bat had the nerve to put her hands on my son!" Her eyes were blazing, her rage evident in her voice.
"Mom... Davie had already talked to her about it, and she apologized." Chancy said meekly.
"She slapped you because she was digging around in your stuff and found your ritual book." Irridessa growled. "That would have been more than enough reason to rid the world of her right then and there." Arthur was a little taken aback, more about Davie's mother's actions than the little growl.
"She slapped you? And all Davie did was talk to her?" Arthur looked confused, but Chancy glared at him.
"What else was he supposed to do? Put her in a choke-hold? That's his mother!" He sneered.
"You're his omega, you are his priority!" She yelled, standing up. "When an alpha's mother doesn't approve of their mate, the alpha distances themself from their mother! It has been like that for centuries, yet he is still speaking with her!" His mother barked. "He is no good for you! He is too weak for you! You need to come home and find a real alpha who will treat you right!" Arthur noted how her icy blue eyes were a light silver. He could feel her powerful energy emmitting from her person. He turned to his friend to find him close to tears, blinking them back wildly. His eyes too were silver, and his cat ears were showing. Slolwly his arms wrapped around his stomach and tears streamed down his cheeks.
Chancy sobbed as he stood up suddenly, bolting out of the room. Both Irridessa and Arthur were in complete shock before they made a move to follow after him. By the time they got downstairs, Chancy was nowhere in sight, and the walls were fading.
"He woke up. The dreamscape is dissappearing." She explained, and Arthur nodded.
"It was a pleasure to meet you." He said, offering a hand. She took it and shook it firmly.
"Likewise."
