Revelations, feelings, and wolves, oh my!
I would like to thank the entirety of Tay Tay Swift's Evermore album for the USUK scene here. The real MVP.
Enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Three: Where There is Fallout
"—ur! Arthur! Arthur, can you hear me? Artie, honey, come on…"
"Alfred, just give him a minute! Yao and Kiku both checked him out and said he was fine, just exhausted."
"Yeah, well, they also said he was 'depleted', as in he overextended his Talent, which can be fucking serious so don't tell me he's fine!"
"Snapping at me doesn't help anything, Alfred. We're all worried, and you freaking out is the last thing any of us needs, least of all Arthur, so just calm down."
"I—I know, you're right, I just—he was bleeding from the nose and ears, Chelles."
"I know, but it's stopped and Kiku wouldn't lie to you. He said Arthur should be fine, so I'm sure he is."
"Oui, mon ami, our Arthur is as stubborn as his eyebrows. He will be fine."
"He may actually ream your ass, and not in the fun way, for getting so worked up and yelling at Chelles. No one likes it when you yell at the captain."
"Gilbert, would you please just shut up?"
Arthur groaned as everyone's words seemed to wash over him at once, awareness slowly creeping back inch by painful inch. He felt like he had been run over by their blasted caravan and then the horses to boot. However, he did seem to be alive and well, for the most part. And the earth did not seem to be breaking apart anymore.
All good signs.
He shifted a little in what he could only assume were Alfred's arms and slowly blinked his eyes open, looking up to meet Alfred worried stare.
"Artie? Hey, there you are." Alfred's blue eyes looked wetter than usual, but relief was plain on his unusually pale face. "You feel ok? Or, ok-ish?"
I—yes. Arthur took a deep breath and tried to push himself up, not thrilled with being cradled like a child in front of everyone, but quickly abandoned that effort when a wave of nausea hit him. Feel a bit trampled and like I might be sick, but I think I'll live. What—what the bloody hell happened?
"Do you remember the earthquake?" Alfred asked the question slowly, as if trying to gauge if Arthur had suffered some sort of memory loss as well. Arthur only kept from rolling his eyes because it made him dizzy to even contemplate moving his eyes so dramatically.
Yes, I remember everything about that bit, I mean what happened after? The earth was literally changing around us, did it stop? The 'did I make it stop' went unsaid, but Alfred obviously understood because his gaze tightened a bit.
"Yeah, it stopped. That was—that was you then? I mean, we all figured but," Alfred trailed off and then, gentle as a lamb, he gathered Arthur to him, pulling him upright until his face was pressed against his, mouth exhaling harshly just under his ear. "I could hear you screaming, Artie, inside my head, and then you started bleeding from your nose and your ears and—you scared the shit out of me!"
Oh—well that was worrisome. I—I'm sorry I—I just, I had to make it stop.
"Yeah, well, I guess you did," Alfred breathed out, his warm breath a comfort against Arthur's neck. He pulled back and pressed their foreheads together, the chuckle he released wrung out and tired. "Try not to give me a fucking heart attack next time, all right?"
Arthur smiled wanly at him but did not respond, unprepared to make promises he was not sure he could keep. Instead, he leant into the warm underside of Alfred's palm cupped against his face. And then, suddenly remembering what had woken him up in the first place, he turned his head and witnessed most of the crew all gathered around them, their faces watching him and Alfred with varying degrees of amusement and exasperation. Arthur felt his face literally flush so hot he would not be surprised if he spontaneously combusted right then and there.
Oh, bloody hell.
Alfred's eyes tracked his movement, but he looked decidedly less embarrassed by the whole scene. Arthur supposed he had likely already exhausted any embarrassment from his worry over Arthur whilst unconscious. "He's all right, guys. Artie, you think you can stand at all?"
Arthur shrugged and moved out of Alfred's hold gingerly to give it a go, but his vision swam, and he practically collapsed back into Alfred's arms, giving a small shake of his head. No, no I most certainly cannot.
"Ok well, we're not sitting on the cold ground anymore so, try not to throw up on me, ok?" And with that, Arthur felt weightless as Alfred pushed up from the ground with ease, carrying all of Arthur's weight in his ridiculously strong arms. Arthur would have loved to admonish him and fight to be put down, but he was rather busy trying his level best to not vomit all down the love of his life's back. He allowed Alfred to carry him without fuss. Not that he really was much of a fight for anyone presently—Arthur had not felt quite so pitiful since he had woken up the morning after drinking his likely literal weight in ale after his father died.
Alfred walked them both to the mostly intact flat stone they had been using as a table for dinner in camp and sat him down softly on the edge, so his legs dangled off. Alfred then slipped in beside him and kept him steady, pressed up all along his side with an arm wrapped bracingly around his shoulders. After a few moments, fighting down the nausea that came roaring back with the movement, he blinked his eyes open and saw the crew had mostly migrated over with them. The only people he did not see were Sadiq, Kiku, and Yao. Is everyone all right?
Alfred nodded. "Yeah, mostly. Sadiq got hit in the head with part of a tent pole, but Kiku's looking after him now. He got knocked out, but otherwise, seems ok. Feliks and Basch weren't affected by the earthquake like the rest of us were and we all stopped feeling awful once the shaking stopped."
"Was it you, Arthur? Did you stop whatever was happening?" Seychelles asked, her one eye on him intently, just as most everyone else's eyes were.
Arthur shrugged and motioned for Alfred to communicate for him. "Um, he says maybe? He wasn't trying to stop the earthquake, just what was changing all around us, like the trees and grass and stuff, but maybe that's what was causing the earthquake too. He doesn't know for sure though."
"Well, it sure seems like he stopped the changes," Basch commented, motioning at the landscape around the camp. Arthur followed the motion slowly and saw an almost comically straight line that separated blue grass and neon-hued flowers from the rest of the more desolate terrain of this part of Bulgar.
"Not quite," a voice spoke up and Arthur could not help but roll his eyes upwards as Yao made his way forward. Arthur focused his attention on the sorcerer and noticed that Kiku was following him, wiping his hands with a red-tinged cloth. Arthur hoped Sadiq's head injury was not too bad, but if Kiku had left him to rest, that was a good sign. "But, I believe Kiku and I can guide him through the rest of it."
Alfred leveled an unimpressed stare at Yao. "Yeah, no offense, but I'm gonna have Kiku confirm that first, thanks. Kiku?"
Kiku spared Alfred a small smile and nodded. "Yao-sama speaks truthfully. Arthur-san did 'stop' the changes which were occurring due to, I believe, Ivan's interference with the Balance, but he more paused what happened. Arthur-san, do you feel nausea and sensitive to light and movement."
"Yeah, I can answer that, he does. Almost like he's got a concussion." Alfred interjected, for which Arthur was grateful.
"And the rest of you," Yao began. "Do you still 'feel' the magic in their air? Like static? Lighting after a strike to earth almost?"
Everyone but Feliks and Basch nodded. Yao smiled softly before fixing his stare back on Arthur. "Yes, I thought so. Mr. Kirkland, the reason why you feel as if you are concussed and why the rest of the Talentborn and magic-users can still feel the magic in the air is because you are quite literally holding it here. Mr. Jones, did you catch what Mr. Kirkland said when he used his Talent?"
"Yeah he, told it to 'stop'," Alfred responded hesitantly.
"Ah, 'stop', a rather straightforward order," Yao smiled. "And so it did. The magic and energy that was causing the changes around us, causing the earthquake as well I suspect, have literally 'stopped' around us. It really is quite astonishing."
Kiku shot Yao a look before he stepped in close to Arthur, resting a hand against his forehead, as if trying to feel out how badly Arthur's head was swimming. "Arthur-san, you told it to stop, and it did, but now it is still here, waiting for you to tell it what to do next. Until you do, it is quite literally 'paused' and held by you alone. If you let it go, I promise you that you will feel better. Still exhausted from your efforts, but better."
Arthur tried to shake his head but stopped midway through, bowed his head, and let out a whimper through clenched teeth that Alfred could hear in his head. I-I don't know how. I didn't even know I was keeping it here.
Alfred repeated his words to Kiku and Yao, the former of whom smiled gently, but it was Yao who spoke up first. "You can, all you need to do is finish the command you already started."
Arthur exhaled angrily through his nose and forced his eyes up to glare at Yao. And what the bloody hell should I say? 'Go somewhere else'? What if I make it worse?
"The magic is not malevolent on its own, Arthur-san," Kiku interjected, reading his lips. "Simply lost, and all lost things want to find their way home. I believe if you nudge it to do so, it will be able to do the rest. Just—reach out to it and send it home."
Arthur stared at them both for a moment before he sighed and closed his eyes to try and focus. Reaching out to his Voice was painful, like he was overexerting a muscle after a too strenuous activity, but when he lifted his hand to feel out the magic suspended in the air around them, a staticky, electric storm, it was even worse. He nearly collapsed off the table, but Alfred's arms caught him around the middle and held him close and upright enough to ground him through it. He pressed his eyes shut tighter and felt a sort of snap to attention from the magic, all focused on him and waiting for further instruction. He hoped Kiku and Yao were right about this.
-Go back to where you come from. Go home-
It was almost anticlimactic.
After all the pain and discomfort and utter drama from the earthquake, the magic and energy buzzing about in the air just sort of, whooshed, away. Arthur sagged back in relief against Alfred, his arms dropping and his eyes fluttering open as he did, in fact, feel immediately better now that he apparently was not just holding onto a bunch of wayward, destructive magic. He felt exhausted down to his bones, but his head was no longer actively trying to kill him, the light sensitivity had ceased, and the nausea had abated. He tilted his head back to meet Alfred's face, the worry still tinging it, but warring now with the usual amazement he got whenever Arthur used his Voice.
"Better?" Alfred asked, his arms loosening from around Arthur's waist as Arthur shifted to steady himself.
Yes, much. Arthur moved off Alfred completely, but still next to him, pushing his damp and messy hair back away from his face as he blinked away the last remnants of phantom pain. Bloody exhausted, but not in pain. Is it gone?
That last question was directed at more than just Alfred and Arthur turned to face the rest of the crew and Yao at it. Kiku nodded, his ears flicking back on his head. "Yes, Arthur-san. You sent it back to where it belongs."
"And look," Yao added, gesturing around their surroundings, which had returned to the normal terrain they had experienced in Bulgar. Well, mostly—it didn't look quite so dead and infertile anymore, more like what they had traveled through outside of Sofiya. "You did the same for what was trapped and warped in the earth as well."
"Does someone, like, feel like sharing with the rest of us non-Talentborn or non-magical theorists as to what any of what just happened means?" Feliks asked, his tone hard and his eyes even more so.
"As to what happened, Yao-sama and I believe that Ivan did something with his own Talent to manipulate the Balance," Kiku responded calmly. "The earthquake was the side affect of whatever he was doing."
"Like the Balance's response?" Esther asked. "To whatever Ivan was doing?"
Kiku nodded. "Yes. What do you do when you or someone else hurts you?"
"Cry out," Seychelles murmured, lost deep in thought.
"Yes," Kiku said. "The earthquake was like a cry. And as anyone who is Talentborn or a channel for magic, such as myself or Yao-sama, is connected to the Balance in a more concrete way, we felt its pain more acutely than those who are not, such as Feliks-san or Basch-san."
"So, like, the terrain changing then, that was what Ivan was doing?" Feliks asked, still impatient.
Kiku nodded. "As far as we can guess, yes. It was only from watching what Arthur-san did that I was able to deduce that was what the actual manipulation was, not the earthquake."
"Speaking of which, what the hell did Arthur do, and can he do it again? Against Ivan? Because it was badass." Gilbert spared Arthur a grin as he spoke.
"That is what is most interesting of all," Yao chimed in. "He stopped the flow of magic and energy that Ivan was directing here to change and alter the barren landscape. And then he reversed it."
"And that means what, exactly?" Alfred asked, now looking just as impatient as Feliks.
"It means that not only did Arthur stop what Ivan was doing in manipulating the Balance and changing the landscape, he sent all of the stolen magic and energy he suspended back 'home', back to where it belonged. Back to who it belonged to." Yao snipped back, his eyes almost feverish in his excitement. "At least, he did for what was in this area."
Arthur's eyes went wide at that. He had—he had actually released the stolen magic and energy back to the rightful owners? That meant he had, in theory, returned Talents and youth that Ivan had stolen, that it could be done. Certifiable proof that he could do what Yao and Kiku both kept saying he could do. Sure, he had not exactly tangled directly with Ivan on it, and he had exhausted himself more than he ever had in his life, but still—he had done it. The grin slipped over his face before he could really help it.
"So, he totally can reverse what Ivan's taken," Feliks said. At the sharp looks he got from the rest of the crew, he rolled his eyes and held up his arms in surrender. "What? I'm sorry for, like, having some doubt at the guy who didn't even use his Talent a year ago being our best bet in reversing all the thievery. No offense, Eyebrows."
Arthur was not pleased that Gilbert's nickname was gaining popularity. He shrugged and made to stand up, which he was successful in doing for all about five seconds. Different from the dizziness from before, he swayed and Alfred was there not a second later, wrapping his arm around him again. Well, Kiku had not been wrong—he was still exhausted, even if he did not feel like death warmed over anymore.
"All right, we're done—you guys want to debate more magic theory crap until your ears bleed, feel free, but we're calling it. Arthur needs to rest." And with that, Alfred, pretty much carrying Arthur still but kind enough to not make it obvious, led him away from the crew. No one followed and Arthur was sure he would still dominate the topic of conversation for some time, but frankly, he could not be bothered to give a shit anymore.
Arthur looked up at their tent, still up and undamaged from the earthquake. He looked around and noticed most of the other tents looked fine as well and the caravan was upright. Did the earthquake not damage anything?
"The tents? No, it did," Alfred shrugged lightly as he led Arthur inside their shared tent. "Alejandro and Rosa have been fixing everything as soon as the quake stopped. You were out for like an hour, Seychelles had them fix ours first. I helped with the caravan while Kiku and Yao looked you over."
Oh. That was kind of them. Alfred huffed as he helped Arthur lower down onto his sleeping pad before he went about securing their tent closed, leaving them both in the soft light from a lantern hanging above them at the apex of the tent.
"More like they didn't want to deal with me bitching at them, I guess," Alfred said ruefully as he crouched down and helped Arthur out of his shoes and then took of his own. Arthur cocked his brow and head at Alfred in question and was rewarded with a shaky laugh devoid of humor. "I was kind of a mess after you collapsed and, you know, just—I was really fucking worried, Artie."
Arthur took in Alfred' drawn expression, a mixture of leftover worry and angst and relief. His eyes looked darker in the lantern light, like the ocean in moonlight, and he felt a deep swell of guilt for the anxiety he saw in their depths. He took one of Alfred's hands in his own, squeezing it gently, trying to reassure him that he was still here, that he was all right. Neither moved for a time, both sitting close enough for their knees to touch, hands gripped tight between them. They could here the rest of their crew make their way to their own tents and the lights outside go dark. Everyone had had enough for one day, it seemed.
It was quiet save for the ambient sounds from the outdoors and from those still awake as they were and Alfred, as usual, was the first to break their stillness. He scooted closer, his other hand coming up to brush across the side of Arthur's face and the up into his hair, combing it back in soft, almost soothing motions. Soothing for himself or for Alfred, Arthur could not say, but he took comfort in it regardless.
I didn't mean to worry or scare you, Alfred.
"Yeah, I know. And besides, you were awesome!" Alfred exclaimed. "What you can do, Arthur, it's so amazing. And I know with you, we have a chance at not only stopping Braginski, but helping all the people he hurt. I only—I just don't want you to hurt yourself by trying to do too much. Seeing you earlier, bleeding from the nose and ears, I've never been that scared before."
Alfred, I—
Arthur held back, not sure how to give Alfred reassurances he so clearly wanted without lying to him, in some fashion. He could not promise to never do what he did again, not now that they knew it could work for so many people. He could not promise to not get hurt, not with their confrontation with Ivan looming. He could not even fucking promise to be there with him once everything was done, due to his blasted Fey deal. But he supposed there was one thing he could promise to do, one thing he knew he would give with everything he had.
I don't know what will happen, Alfred, there's so much that could go tits up and any of us could not come out of this unscathed, but…but I love you and I promise to always try to do whatever I can to stay with you. Always.
Alfred made a noise, soft and exquisite, and pushed in close, pressing his lips so softly to Arthur's, releasing the grip on his hand and both hands tenderly carding through Arthur's hair, invariable making it even messier. For all his strength, Alfred was always so gentle with him, even more so now given Arthur's wearied state, each pass of his fingertips against his scalp lulling Arthur in deeper into his warmth. Arthur kissed him back with more insistence, his own arms and hands winding their way around Alfred's shoulders, so tired still that his very bones felt sore, but wanting this closeness more.
Arthur lost track of them for a moment, the push and pull between them spinning higher and hotter with every shaky breath Alfred released into Arthur's mouth, skin, soul and every silent sound Arthur gave over to Alfred, echoing in only a space they could hear. Their shirts had been discarded at some point in that time and Arthur had found himself straddling Alfred's lap, their bare skin pressing together everywhere they could. Arthur came to himself again when he felt Alfred tip him back suddenly, his arms guiding the motion down and then sliding down his body to hook into his pants. Alfred's cocked his head to the side, questioning and heated.
"Do you want—"
I want.
His pants and underwear were gone in a single, fluid motion then, leaving him completely naked in the soft glow of their tent. His skin pebbled with the briskness of the autumn night, but only for a moment, because then Alfred was pulling him back into his lap, just as bare as Arthur was. Arthur guided his legs around Alfred's waist, pressing their cocks together that had them both moaning at the contact. Arthur hovered just so above Alfred in this position, able to look down at him, the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheekbones, the blue of his eyes that always drowned him. Alfred's hands skimmed up his back, one coming to rest on the swell of his ass and the other on the nape of Arthur's neck.
"Can we, like this?" Alfred's voice echoed softly between them as Arthur placed wet, branding kisses up his neck, wondering and wanting. Arthur pulled back and speculated at what he meant for a moment, before he realized Alfred was talking about their position, Arthur cradled in Alfred's lap, all their limbs tangled around one another. He felt his cheeks heat and he nodded, sure they would be able to figure it out.
I—I think so.
"You," Alfred started, his eyes blown and wide, lantern light playing across them like stars in the night sky. "You haven't done it like this before?"
Arthur bit his lip and shook his head. He had not. Perched in Alfred's lap like this, his legs snug around his waist and pressed so close and warm—he felt vulnerable like this, Alfred surrounding him completely, holding him in place and keeping him safe. There was an intimacy here he had never felt with anyone before. Never wanted to share with anyone before. Before Alfred.
He did have the brief concern that he might not be flexible enough to do everything in this position, but he was fairly boneless in his exhaustion, so maybe that would help. Alfred's eyes went impossibly darker at the admission, at the thought that this was something between them they could share between just them, Arthur's first in something. Arthur would have chided him, as Alfred was the only person Arthur had ever truly loved apart from his dysfunctional family and that mattered more than anything physical.
But the possessive gleam and need in Alfred's eyes at the thought, at how his hands flexed that bit tighter against Arthur's skin, well, Arthur wanted all of that too. So, instead, Arthur smiled and pressed a hard, scorching kiss to Alfred's lips, squeezing his legs tighter around Alfred's waist, hands gripping tight against Alfred's golden hued hair. Alfred met him, each biting kiss and hot press earning Arthur the hot swipe of Alfred's tongue or the press of his fingertips between the cleft of his ass, down to his hole. He did not do more than press against him and eventually the soft pressure drove Arthur mad, and he ripped his lips away from Alfred's, who simply started placing sucking, biting kisses up and down his neck.
Do you, fuck Alfred, where's the oil?
Alfred made a discerning noise and gestured over to his bag at the end of the sleep pallets. "Can you reach?"
I, ah, maybe? Let me…
Arthur arched back and threw his hand over his head, reaching Alfred's pack. He rummaged around in the front pocket, hoping that was where the oil was, hands trembling as Alfred took advantage of Arthur's stretched form, placing kisses down his chest, sucking at his nipples, down to his stomach. Just as Arthur's hand closed victoriously over that familiar phial, Alfred adjusted his stance, rising to his knees and holding Arthur's hips off the ground as he swallowed down Arthur's length in one motion that had Arthur crying out. He was grateful in that moment for his forced silence, as he could only imagine how embarrassingly loud he would have been otherwise.
Al-Alfred! I, oh fuck, I can't. I need…
Alfred released him with an obscene pop and hauled Arthur back into his lap, his ridiculous strength allowing no effort or fumble in the motion. Arthur pressed the phial into his hand, rocking his hips back into Alfred's cock where it was sliding against his hip, his ass, between his cheeks. Alfred took it and released his hold from Arthur's hips to uncork the phial and pour some out onto his fingers, oil inevitably dripping down onto Arthur's thighs and the sleeping pads below. But then, then they were back, pressing gloriously into him, one at first, then quickly two, Alfred just as eager and wanting as he was. Arthur pressed back into the fingers, reveling in the stretch and he let out a keen when Alfred pressed a third finger alongside the other two.
"Fuck, Arthur, you're so fucking gorgeous I need—" Alfred cut off with a quiet hiss as Arthur took his ear lobe between his teeth and gently worried the skin.
I'm ready, Alfred, I want it, I want to you.
The first push inside burned in the best way possible, and Arthur gasped hot and heavy against Alfred's ear, mouth wanton and pressing open-mouth kisses wherever he could reach. Alfred could not thrust especially deep inside at this angle, but Arthur did not care, not when he felt like he was saturated in heat. Alfred kept the shallow thrusts going for what felt like forever, time syrupy and slow between them, and then shifted a just a little, hands moving to under Arthur's knees and taking on all of Arthur's weight as he hiked his knees higher.
Fuck, Arthur swore as Alfred slid in deeper, feeling his hips strain a bit at the stretch from Alfred's hold, but he did not care. Not when Alfred picked up the speed of his thrusts, reaching deep inside of him and jabbing against his prostate with every pump of his hips. Yes, yes fuck, Alfred, darling, just there—ah!
Alfred let out a low, guttural moan and shift them again, tipping Arthur back onto the pad. He kept his hold on the backs of Arthur's knees, but had more leverage of his own, driving deeper, faster, harder into Arthur while kneeling. Arthur threw his head back and let out an obscenely loud groan that only Alfred could hear, the groan fading into words that Arthur was not even aware of saying. They both chased their climax and Arthur found his first, one of Alfred's hands moving rom his leg to his cock, stripping it once, twice, and Arthur's back bowed, pleasure hot and white and his cry soundless. Alfred followed him after a few more hard thrusts, body shaking as he spilled inside Arthur, his own cry quiet between them, still cognizant of their neighbors.
When they had both emerged from the aftershocks, hazy and sated, Alfred did not pull out. Instead, he pulled Arthur back into his lap, where everything had started. Alfred pressed his lips lazily against any part of Arthur he could reach (chest, shoulder, clavicle, neck), arms holding him close, his cock softening but still so warm inside of him. Arthur ran his hands through Alfred's damp hair, guiding his head back with the motion so he could meet his eyes and kiss him, tender and slow until Alfred had to pull out. Using his discarded shirt, Alfred wiped them both clean enough and tossed Arthur back his pants, slipping his own on before laying back down on the pads, hauling their blankets with him.
Your shirt will be ruined, Alfred, Arthur scolded half-heartedly after he had shimmied himself back into his pants.
"Meh, I have others, and that one's old anyway." Alfred's grin was apparent in his voice, even if Arthur could not see it from where he had rolled over into Alfred's space, burying his face into the juncture where his neck and shoulder met. Alfred pulled their shared blanket over them both and settled back down, crowding in just as close as Arthur was, tangling their bare feet together under the blanket. "You need to sleep—I know you're super tired. Ha, probably shouldn't have—"
Mmm, no. None of that. Worth it. Arthur mumbled. But yes, sleep now.
Alfred chuckled, soft and bright, and gods, snuggled, closer, his lips resting against Arthur's temple. "Yeah, right…hey? I love you, Artie."
I love you too. Arthur let himself finally drift off blanketed in warmth and Alfred, and his last thought was that he would do whatever he could to make sure he and Alfred could come back to this.
He promised.
Ivan's return home was quiet. Necessary, but unfortunate after such a success, such a big step towards his Vision. He wished he could celebrate with his followers, his family, but his heart was too heavy. To burdened with loss, loss that never seemed to get easier no matter how long he walked this earth. He waited, holding the portal open for a moment longer until his companion could finish and follow through. Vladimir followed softly behind him, holding Eduard's body, small and stooped in the age it now reflected, wrapped carefully in a thin covering.
Like the ancient kings and queens of Grecia would wrap their dead loved ones, to carry them into the next life.
Ivan held up a hand, stopping Vladimir next to him, and opened his arms in silent instruction. Vladimir hesitated for only a moment before he placed Eduard in Ivan's arms, stepping back as soon as Ivan adjusted him in his arms. "Thank you for your efforts, Brother Vladimir. I understand it may have been difficult, but those burdened with great purpose must be ready for the sacrifices that may be required."
"Of course, Brother Ivan," Vladimir responded; Ivan did not look at him. "Are you—you do not need to take him, Brother, I can—"
"No," Ivan said shortly. "He is my responsibility. Thank you, if I have need for you, I will call for you. But otherwise, get some rest. Our true test is coming, we must be ready."
With a single nod, Vladimir was gone, leaving Ivan with his burden alone. Ivan cradled Eduard close and made his way towards the other side of the hall, to his workroom. He would say goodbye to him properly there and once he was ash, he would scatter him over the mountains of their shared home. Yes, yes that would be what he would want, Ivan was sure. He would send Eduard home.
As he made his way to his workroom, he hoped his path would remain clear. It was late now, most of the compound here would be resting. He knew news of Eduard's death and sacrifice would need to be shared but—but it was still too near for him. It would be hard for some to understand as well. But, as he saw Oksana and Natalia turn the corner ahead of him, he steeled his emotions. They needed him to be strong—they all did.
"Brother Ivan," Natalia breathed out. Her eyes never left his face once as she approached, utterly dismissing the bundle in his arms. He felt a flash of irritation at her attitude. "You have returned. Were you successful? We felt the tremors and then saw the sun!"
"Yes, we were able to change the Barrens, make them beautiful again," Ivan murmured lowly, his eyes on Eduard's covered face. "At a cost."
"No cost is too great!" Natalia exclaimed. "Not if it means we can make your Vision a reality."
Oksana was more measured, as was her way, but her face had gone tight as she looked at what Ivan carried. She, no doubt, could recognize what it was Ivan carried. If not who. "What—what happened, Brother? Who is…?"
Ivan met her sad eyes. "Eduard has done all he could to help make our restored Ruthenia a reality."
Oksana's face went stiff, and she inhaled sharply. Natalia looked satisfied.
"We shall praise his sacrifice, Brother," Natalia said. "He will be remembered throughout all of New Ruthenia as a hero!"
"He—does Raivis—yes, yes, he will be remembered," Oksana whispered. Tears threatened to spill down her face and Ivan was struck again by her beauty, just as he had been when he first saw her. He longed to reach out and comfort her, but she would have to wait. Eduard came first.
"Thank you both. I must see to Eduard now, please, get some rest."
He left without waiting for their responses and was unbothered the rest of his way to his workroom. He ignored the dead sunflowers and laid out Eduard on an empty table and made sure to bring the fire-breath Talent to the forefront. It did not take long to accomplish, and once done, Ivan stared at what was left of his dear Eduard, contained in an ornate, beautiful urn. One from the old Empire. It matched his eyes.
Even still, after Ivan did not feel settled as he thought he would be once laying him to rest. He left the urn on the table and left, wandering down the quiet halls of his home but unsure where he was going or what he was looking for.
Ivan knew he had done what was necessary, he knew that he would do harder things still, and yet, he still felt, ah, unbalanced. Eduard's face as he realized what he had truly been brought along for would not leave his thoughts. Perhaps he should have given him the choice, Ivan thought, given him the opportunity to accept the sacrifice. But, no, Ivan knew what he would have said. His betrayal had made it clear where he stood.
Ivan looked up from his musings and found himself outside of the cell block. Where Matthew Jones was being held. He did not know what led him here, but he felt compelled to continue forward until he was outside of Matthew Jones' cell. He stared at the door, not sure what he was looking to accomplish, a novelty for him, and then he pushed his way inside.
Matthew was, unsurprisingly, awake and looked unimpressed with his arrival. He looked better under Oksana's care, Ivan noted. His face had filled out a little and regained some color and his hair, now longer than it had been upon his arrival, was clean and bundled on top of his head in a messy knot. He looked more like his brother than he had in months. Ivan stared at him and Matthew sat up straighter, unwilling to shrink away from his stare—the Jones brothers were alike in many ways, but in their stubborn bravery most of all.
"Well? Come here to gloat or threaten? Your usual M.O.?" Matthew asked, his voice flat and indifferent. "I'm guessing gloat. Th earthquake and sun suddenly shining when I've hardly seen it since my lovely stay happening all at the same time? You did something."
"I did," Ivan agreed. His own voice must have held something in it out of place because Matthew's eyes narrowed and he focused on him.
"Not in a gloating mood? Did it not go as well as you hoped? Hit a roadblock in your precious Vision, did we?"
"I hit no roadblock. The Barrens are restored, glorious and beautiful. As soon all of Ruthenia will be."
Matthew's face took on a flicker of contemplation as he surveyed Ivan further. "That so? Then what's with the gloomy face? Some of the flowers not as pretty as you want? Someone die?"
Silence met Matthew's glib jibe, revealing its unintentional accuracy.
"Someone died?" Matthew repeated, a question this time, hushed and hollow. "Did you—who—"
He trailed off as his mind worked, and because Matthew Jones was a clever young man, his mind found the obvious conclusion—it was common knowledge who was accompanying him to the Barrens earlier today and what Vladimir's Talent was. Ivan offered nothing as the young man's face went dark and angry.
"You're a fucking coward, you know that?" Matthew hissed out, rising to his feet. "Eduard knew it too. You know he came and talked to me before you decided to execute him. He knew what you're doing is wrong, and he hated what you made him a part of, after he trusted you."
"I don't expect you to understand the sacrifice required for greatness, Matthew," Ivan responded, some part of him rankled at the 'coward' insult. It took courage to come to the decision he had, courage to live with the pain Eduard's death had caused him. He lived with that pain and with the pain of ordering Dmitri, in his last missive before going to the Barrens, to handle another loved one, one who had meant so much to Ivan all his life. Nothing about those decisions had been cowardly.
"You didn't sacrifice anything! You sacrificed him! You think your grief is worth something to anyone? It's not worth more than his life." Matthew spat back and Ivan grit his teeth before his fist slammed into the stone beside Matthew's head in anger. Matthew did not flinch, just stared at him, sure and confident in his words and anger.
Ivan was jealous of his surety in that moment.
Ivan started to make his way out of the cell, annoyed at his own weakness that led him here for whatever empty victory he had been looking for to help sooth the pain in his chest. But as he left, Matthew's soft voice paused him.
"Sacrifice is something you lose, not someone else losing something for you. That has no meaning, not really, because you haven't truly changed. But you don't get that. And that's why either now or a hundred years from now, you'll lose."
Ivan slammed the cell door shut on his way out.
The KauKhasis mountains loomed in front of them, dark and imposing with thick, unforgiving clouds overhead. Arthur had never put much stock in a place looking evil, after all, a place was just a place. Still, looking at the jagged, steep mountains, he wondered if he would need to rethink that idea, because these mountains looked distinctly unfriendly. And steep, had he mentioned steep, because bollocks, they were going to be an utter dread to climb.
After another week of travel, they were estimated to only be a day or so from the border and another few more until they reached the trailhead for the Strobilus. Presumably. There was a fair amount of guesswork involved, but Yao, for all his faults, and his tracking spell for Matthew was proving useful in this regard and filling in the gaps they had on their approach. At the very least, they were not wandering around an increasingly unforgiving terrain aimlessly, for which Arthur was grateful. He had never seen snow before and while a novel idea in theory, it was a bloody nuisance in practice and was not appreciative of how wet and cold it made everything. Even with their heavier gear on, it was still miserable.
At least he was not weak as a kitten anymore.
It had taken nearly three days after his stunt with the earthquake and the magic for him to feel normal.
After that day, and the considerably more wonderful night with Alfred, he had woken up the next morning sore and groggy and barely able to sit on his horse properly. Kiku had told him it was normal, a sort of magical whiplash after expending so much of his own magic and controlling the stolen magic and energy that had been sent by Ivan, and that after his magic 'replenished' itself, so to speak, he'd feel better. He had been cautioned to not physically extend himself or use his Voice in the meantime, as it would likely make him feel worse.
As such, when they resumed their travel, he had been confined to the caravan with Sadiq for several days, who was honestly about as put out with the situation as Arthur was. His head wound did not look like it was not serious, but the bruising was rather spectacular so Kiku had him limited in his movements as well. Sadiq was not a man given to idleness and had been displeased with the diagnosis. Still, after several days of strained silence between the two of them, Arthur had started to feel more like himself and Sadiq had strong-armed his way back onto his horse. Arthur felt good as new after another day or so and had begun doing tasks around camp with his Voice again and started riding his own horse. Francis had been ecstatic to have the caravan back to mostly himself again.
It was a good thing it had not taken any longer for him to get better, Arthur thought to himself now, as he stared at the mountains on the horizon. Dark and ominous, just like the daunting task ahead of them. After months of travel, of searching, here they finally were, about to cross into Ruthenia and actually face off with Ivan. It seemed surreal. And terrifying. Arthur had lost count the number of times he had woken from a dead sleep from sheer anxiety the last few nights, but he knew it was enough to make Alfred just as restless as he was.
"Damn, those mountains do not look friendly." Speak of the devil, Arthur smirked to himself as Alfred pulled his horse up alongside him, blue eyes fixed on the mountains ahead of them. "I mean, really! Look at them! If mountains could say 'fuck off', these ones definitely would!"
Arthur snorted and Alfred, hearing the laugh in his head, flashed Arthur a blinding grin. Feliks was riding next to them and rolled his eyes. "Well, what did you, like, expect? I told you all these mountains were totally creepy."
"Well, sure, but these look seriously like a bunch of evil witches live in them!"
"And Ivan isn't totally an evil witch? At the very least, Natalia so fits the bill for that."
Alfred chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so. Braginski picked a very fitting secret lair location."
Not to mention one difficult to access, Arthur reminded Alfred. Getting to the border and the mountains was only part of the journey, and arguably the easier part. They still had to scale the blasted thing.
"Oh, it'll be fine!" Alfred waived off Arthur's concern. At Feliks' questioning look, Alfred went on. "Artie's nervous about climbing the mountain, but we so got this. We got all the gear, we're like the who's-who of awesomeness, and Gil's been scaling mountains since he was a kid."
Feliks, if possible, rolled his eyes even harder. "Strobilus is so not an easy hike. And it'll be snowing totally worse up there than it is now. Eyebrows has a point."
Please tell him to stop calling me fucking 'eyebrows'! It's bad enough Gilbert does it.
Alfred laughed, but ultimately ignored Arthur's plea, the git. "Nah, you're both just being worrywarts. We're gonna get to that mountain, kick its ass, and then kick Ivan's ass!"
"While you are utterly delusional, I do enjoy your chutzpah, Alfred," Esther barked with a teasing grin.
As Alfred began defending his brazen honor to both Feliks and Esther, Arthur looked forward at the front of their group where Seychelles, Sadiq, Alejandro, and Rosa where riding, all looking on high alert due to Alejandro's hand, which was up and signaling for them all to stop. Gilbert and Basch were driving the caravan today and brought it a halt, Francis and Kiku both peeking their heads outside. Arthur looked behind their rear group and found Yao trailing behind them, looking alert and wary as well.
Alfred, Alfred! Shut up, there's something wrong.
Alfred paused in his dramatic defense as Arthur's words sounded in his head and he, along with Esther and Feliks, fell silent as he motioned for them to quiet. There was a tense, ready stillness as various members of their group reached and readied their weapons as quietly as possible, eyes ranging around them for whatever it was that caught Alejandro's and Yao's attention. Alfred and Esther both slipped silently off their horses, as did Basch. Gilbert looked frustrated as he scanned their surroundings, unable to hear anything. Francis looked equally as frustrated but had climbed out of the caravan and took up position beside Basch, his own rapier at the ready. Arthur turned and watched Yao's expression go pinched and worried before swinging his horse around and focusing on an outcropping of trees to their left flank.
Arthur had only a moment to turn his attention to that same spot before a huge beast burst from the trees and tackled Yao and his horse to the ground, its huge claws tearing into both Yao and the poor horse.
The horse took most of the brunt from the attack, but Yao was pale and crumpled underneath the dead animal, bleeding from where his shoulder had been slashed open. The beast, which looked like a monstrous wolf, advanced, but Alfred plowed into it before it could deliver a fatal blow to Yao. Alfred sent it careening back to where Esther had sprinted behind it and was ready with her swords. Feliks had dismounted, all their horses screaming in fear at the wolf-beast, and reached Yao, pulling him out from under the dead horse Alfred lifted before dropping it and heading to help Esther. Her swords did not seem to make much of a dent and it was advancing on Feliks, who was struggling to carry Yao with his slighter frame.
Arthur dismounted and hurried over to help Feliks with Yao as Gilbert and Basch both sprinted forward, swords aloft and guns firing, halting the wolf-beast enough for Arthur to get Yao's arm under him. Arthur motioned to Feliks that he had Yao and to go help the others with hand gestures, relieved when the blond man understood and took off to help the others.
-Become light in weight-
Yao went boneless and Arthur was able to heft him into his arms easily, weighing no more than a sack of potatoes after using his Voice, and carried him over to the caravan. Everyone from the anterior group had dismounted and were making their way, the wolf-beast savage and able to fend off even Alfred with all his strength. Arthur got to the caravan and deposited Yao inside with Kiku, who had jumped back in, paler than usual, and began to apply pressure to Yao's shoulder to staunch the bleeding.
-Return to your True State- and Yao's weightlessness evaporated.
Arthur's head snapped back outside when he heard a several pained grunts and loud snarling.
"Go, Arthur-san! I will stay and work on Yao-sama," Kiku shouted.
"Yes, I will stay and defend them, Arthur, do not worry," Francis said grimly, his milky eyes determined as he tracked what had to be shadowy movements from the others in front of him.
Arthur did not need to be told again; he sprinted back over towards where the others were engaging with the monster, firing weapons, slashing with swords, littering the ground with ichor-like black blood, and making absolutely no progress in slowing down the rabid animal. Gilbert was bleeding from the head and Basch was holding a position over Esther, who's arm looked to be sporting a deep cut. Alejandro and Sadiq were both attempting to grapple with the beast, but it moved to quick for them to get any big hits in. Rosa and Seychelles were working with Feliks to keep it from skirting around the group but were not getting any hard hits in either. Even Alfred was having a hard time hitting him with his muskets or landing a punch, his own shirt torn and blood running down the side of his arm.
And then, after leaping over another attack from Sadiq and knocking the large man back into Rosa, the wolf-beast took the opportunity to dart out from the circle they had tried to pin it down in and landed straight in front of Arthur. He vaguely heard several people cry out at him, but Arthur was caught by the wolf's stare, even as its snarling and dripping jaw made to snap at him, because those eyes were not rabid or wild.
They were human.
Just like when the earthquake and cracked the ground beneath their camp, and incapacitated most of their group, Arthur felt a strange, knowing calm settle over him as he stared into those eyes and moved out of the way of a swipe of the beast's paw. Then, he responded, his Talent rising easily and angry within him.
-Change back into your Human Skin, and Stay that way-
Arthur had never really used his Voice on a person before, so he did not know what to expect. Sure, he had made Yao light enough to carry moments before, but he had been unconscious, and it was not a forceful command. He had not been forcing Yao to do something against his will.
This though, this command was forceful. As Arthur's Voice rippled out, it seemed to slam into the wolf-beast and it shuddered under its weight, collapsing to the ground and shrinking rapidly from a huge monster to a man. The fur seemed to melt away, revealing human skin, the bones snapped up and forward into a human form instead of a wolf's, and the muzzle and face morphed back into a human one, screwed up in pain. In no time at all, there was a pale, naked and shaking man where the wolf-beast had once been, covered in what appeared dark, black blood that was warm enough to create steam in the cold weather.
Arthur stared and stumbled back, watching as the man hacked up what looked like more ichor and writhed in what looked to be agony at having been forced to change forms so quickly. The man met Arthur's eyes again and there was a hatred there that made Arthur step back to put distance between them. He was still staring as Sadiq and Alejandro arrived and hauled the man up, restraining him after knocking him unconscious.
As he vaguely heard the others snap into motion after Seychelles started issuing out orders, a strange feeling settled over his skin as he stared at what he had done, what he had caused. Guilt seemed too small a word, so did shock, but whatever it was, it made him feel shaky and wrong.
But, also, powerful.
He knew the others would not judge him for what he had done, in fact he was sure most of them would likely praise him for stopping the man, but he—they had not felt what he felt as he watched the man lose all sense of agency, the rush of power that had sparked in the air between them when he used his Voice. How much he had liked stopping the man as much as he as horrified by the result. He also knew that their praise could easily turn to horrified stares, if he had done that to someone who was not an enemy.
Arthur took a deep, hitching breath and was grateful for the feel of Alfred's arms taking his own moments later, leaning into him and closing his eyes as tried to quell the warring feelings of delight and revulsion building inside.
Alfred 100% calls Arthur 'honey' and you can pry that from my cold, dead hands.
Next update - likely 6/16 - I am having some minor surgery today so I am guessing I'll be pretty out of it tomorrow, but hopefully will be more myself on Wednesday.