Author's Note: Thanks so much to AnnP and javana who reviewed!! It really means a lot. Sorry that this update was so long in coming, grad school and all that but I'm going to try to make the next ones faster. Please keep reading and review, there will be many more fairy tale components to come!
The next morning, when Duncan awoke alone, he thought that his big bed had never felt so empty before. His sleep had been filled with dreams of Methos, of them together in his bed. Methos above him, impaled on Duncan's hard member, his thighs muscles straining as the younger man rode him faster and faster, Methos' voice begging Duncan to love him.
Duncan swept his hand across the empty expanse beside him, hoping that it was just a matter of time before the dream would become reality. With a sigh, he got up.
Methos entered the breakfast room hesitantly again. His dreams had also been unsettling. He had had erotic dreams before, but this time they were specific. It was Duncan's hands stroking his body, Duncan's plush lips against his own, Duncan's brown eyes that he was staring into.
Methos blushed just at the sight of the man, sitting composedly at the table and looking at him with concern in the dark eyes. He lowered his eyes and slipped silently into his seat.
Duncan noted the blush and smiled, knowing that he was getting to the other man. Unfortunately after breakfast, he had to actually do a little work in his study. He hoped he wasn't imagining the disappointment on Methos' face at the news.
Methos was disappointed, for reasons he didn't understand, simply being in Duncan's company made him happy. Was this love, this joy in the other man's company, in Duncan's looks and conversation and touch?
He didn't know but he tried to distract himself by helping in the kitchen. Mrs. Carmichael at first attempted to dissuade him, but once she realized that he really did want to help and, in fact, had lots of experience, she was only to happy to have the company. Methos chopped vegetables and listened to her gossip. She spoke fondly of Duncan.
Meanwhile, Kronos was plotting. Triggering Methos' immortality would be sure to throw the younger Highlander off. Duncan would be busy trying to teach his pathetic brother the Game and worrying about Methos being picked off by any wandering headhunter. He handed over the purse of coins to the huntsman with a last instruction, "Bring me his heart."
Methos went outside to meet with the huntsman that Mrs. Carmichael occasionally bought fresh wild game from. He was feeling cheerful, and even a little intrepid and so had volunteered to go so the housekeeper could continue stirring the soup for that evening.
The huntsman appeared kindly, rugged and rough-edged. Methos was completely caught off guard by the blow that knocked him to the ground. Unconscious, his hands were bound together and he was dragged over the horse's saddle.
Duncan strode into the kitchen. He was taking a break from his accounting work and wanting to check in on Methos. He laughed at himself, he was eager as a puppy, as a love-struck school boy.
"Mr. MacLeod, have you seen Methos?" Mrs. Carmichael's voice interrupted his happy thoughts.
"What? I came in here to find him."
"Well he was, but I sent him outside to see what the huntsman had today and he never came back."
Duncan had a sinking feeling. He was certain that the young man wouldn't simply wander off. Methos had barely left the house in ten years, he would be too afraid to go off alone.
Taking off at a run for the stables, Duncan yelled for the housekeeper to get Connor. He only took the time to put a bridle on his fastest mare, not a saddle.
Methos came to abruptly, looking up at a canopy of tree branches overhead. Then the huntsman's face came into view and he remembered what had happened. He tried to get up, only then realizing that his hands were tied behind his back and he was lying on them.
The huntsman took out a large knife and pressed the tip to his chest. Methos' eyes widened in terror and his breath quickened. "Don't…please."
The huntsman hesitated, looking down at just a frightened youth…but he had to, if he reneged on his deal, Kronos would certainly kill him, slowly. Hardening his own heart, he thrust the knife into Methos' chest quickly.
Methos was stunned. The pain was intense, every breath an agony. He knew he was going to die, the knife still in his chest the only thing keeping him from bleeding out immediately.
In that moment, all his thoughts were about Duncan, about how he had missed an amazing opportunity. After ten years of pain and loneliness, he had found everything that he could want, but he had let fear keep him from Duncan. Suddenly there was movement above him, but he could barely see, everything was so dark…
Duncan jumped off his horse, coming across them just inside the line of trees. His appearance scared off the huntsman who ran off into the woods, but Duncan barely gave the man a thought. He fell to his knees, but he was afraid to touch Methos, afraid to make his death any more painful. Blood frothed at the pale lips and trickled out the side and he could hear the pained breaths.
He leaned over the man, petting Methos soothingly and kissing a sweat-covered forehead. Taking a breath, he pulled out the knife, wanting it to be over quickly. He watched helplessly as the blood poured out and Methos' body tensed and spasmed in pain. He thought he heard his name as Methos breathed out his last breath.
Afterward it felt very quiet. Duncan was still petting Methos' suddenly lax face. He looked down at the eyes that so captivated him. They had been jade and amber in Methos' fear and pain, but now, without Methos behind them, they were just a mossy brown like the bottom of a river.
Duncan hadn't noticed that he was crying until a drop fell onto Methos' blood covered face. He sat up, gathering the limp form to his chest as he did so. It was silly, to feel like his world had just fallen apart, Methos was going to wake up, he would be fine.
But still Duncan felt like he had failed. It wasn't supposed to be like this, Methos dying alone and afraid in the woods, and not yet. Methos looked so young. He, like Duncan's cousin, Connor, would be trapped in a body barely out of teens. Methos was all long, loose limbs, knees and elbows.
Duncan didn't look up as Connor's horse approached; only responding when he felt his cousin's hand on his shoulder.
"Duncan, come on. You don't want him to wake up like this."
The younger Scotsman nodded rigidly, the tightness in his throat making it impossible to speak.
Connor felt miserable. He had known that something like this would happen but the sight of how broken his cousin appeared…perhaps he needed to rethink Duncan's relationship with the young man.
Reaching down, Connor pried the limp, lanky form from his cousin's arms. Duncan didn't want to let Methos go, he quickly swung up into the saddle and reached again for the young man. He sped back to the estate with Methos in his arms, trusting that Connor would come up with a reasonable excuse for the household staff.