A/N: So I assumed that I would have internet last week, and I was horribly wrong. So I had no Interwebz the last two weeks, though I did write (I've already gotten a good start on the next chapter, it'll be up today or tomorrow). So there's my excuse for not posting sooner. Thanks to everyone who fav'd/sub'd/ and *especially* reviewed. You make my life~ Thanks for the late night beta, Z!

Chapter Seven

Alfred squirmed under the intense gaze of the sun god. He had been sitting in one place for several hours, explaining what had occurred on the plains to Pakram and Arlya over and over. For long stretches he was left just to sit there, while the two gods whispered behind their hands then asked him to explain or describe something in more detail.

The polished marble of the floor would probably have a dull streak on it by the end of the day, Alfred thought vaguely as he scuffed his boot along the same track of stone. The chair he was supplied with was cold and uncomfortable, but he wasn't allowed to leave until Pakram was satisfied with his story.

He was addressed again: "And you said Daka's attacker came from behind you, through the undergrowth?"

"Yes, sir. I was in the brush so neither Daka nor the Daemons could see me and I could get her when I had a chance. The attacker came from the same place. But couldn't really see, it moved so fast," Alfred lied. He knew exactly who had come to Elizaveta's aid. But the gods didn't have to know about his conversation with Arthur or how Alfred had agreed to let Arthur wound her.

"I see," said Pakram. "You surely saw the manner of the attack, however, as you were watching rather close." Alfred stayed silent. "Describe it. In detail."

Alfred hesitated, then, mind traitorously blank, he settle on the truth. "Fast. Not sweeping or graceful, but explosive. Precise, too."

"Daggers or spear?"

"A spear, I think."

Pakram and Arlya exchanged a concerned look. "Arthur," Arlya said. "So he has joined the war." She flicked her eyes to Alfred, worry shining in them. He shifted under her gaze, back protesting from sitting for too long on the hard stone chair. "This is grave news indeed. I had hoped he would keep his distance until we could easily overpower him."

Pakram nodded in agreement. "Of all the Daemons, he's one of the most dangerous."

Alfred glanced up, confused. "Why? He's less scary than Ivan or Natalia. I'd rather fight him than them."

"All Daemons, much like gods, are different," Arlya explained. "Ivan and Natalia are fearsome because or their brute strength and sheer skill, respectively. Arthur is clever, cunning. He fights tactically and not always by the rules."

Alfred waited for more, but the two gods were silent, staring off into nothing while they pondered their thoughts. Hoping they were finished with him, he cleared his throat and stood.

"May I leave?"

"Yes, Alfred, I have no further need for you," said Pakram.

Alfred stepped out of the marble court and into the late afternoon. He pushed off into the air and made for home. The air in Caelei seemed so flat after his time in the mortal realm, he thought as he flew. It was remarkably still, doing nothing until caught by some living movement. There were no currents or thermals or gusts to aid or hinder him. It would be a relief to be in the mortal realm again tonight.

He touched down on the stairs leading to his room. He was making his way up when a figure appeared before him. It was Gilbert, looking tired and ragged. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed to sag, as if gravity had begun to pull him harder. Alfred looked up.

"Thank you," Gilbert said, sounding exhausted. "You brought her back."

"I couldn't stop her from getting hurt."

"I know. But she'll recover."

"I'm sorry I couldn't—"

Gilbert held up his hand, silencing Alfred. "No. You did pretty well," he said, a smile almost cracking his weariness. "In fact, you might have been brave. Even with a whole army standing behind you, Daemons aren't to be taken lightly. I would have faced Elizaveta myself, or course, if not for direct orders against it."

"That didn't seem to stop Daka," Alfred muttered.

Gilbert let out a dark chuckle. "No, it didn't. Never has. But Daka is her own authority."

The silence hung between them. Alfred shifted awkwardly, when Gilbert made no sign of speaking, he said, "I have to see him tonight. Arthur, that is."

Gilbert nodded, looking past Alfred. "Why are you telling me? I don't care."

"He's the one who hurt her."

"Is he? I'll have to repay him when we meet in battle."

Something seemed off about the god. His usual smirk was gone, and he lacked the condescension he often showed Alfred, though the latter had slightly subsided since Alfred had come into his role as messenger.

"Gilbert—" Alfred began, only for the god to vanish with a faint swish. With a sigh, he turned up the stairs and entered his room. He hadn't bothered to straighten his blankets this morning when Arlya had come in early to question him. He frowned and left them as they were, picking up his lyre and satchel. He was about to leave when someone coughed behind him. Turning, he saw Arlya herself standing stiffly in the doorway.

"You're still going to see that Daemon tonight?" she asked.

Alfred repressed a sigh. Some iteration of this conversation happened every time he left.

"Yes, I'm playing for Arthur tonight."

"Even after what he did to Daka? If he could have, he would have murdered her."

Alfred ignored that last bit. "Yes, Arlya, I'm going. I have to. And I don't really mind," he said and instantly regretted it. Arlya's eyes narrowed. She swept across the room and grasped Alfred by the shoulders and squeezed.

"You won't go for much longer. First chance I have, I will kill him. He won't have any power over you then. You shouldn't go tonight either," she added, a bit frantic. "Perhaps when you get there you can play half a song, then call me. Your oath will not be broken then."

Alfred struggled out of her clutching grip. "Arlya, I'm going. Now." Before she could lay hand on him again, he was out the door and into the air.

The goddess stood in empty room. She sunk onto the bed. "My boy, my boy. What is happening to my baby boy?" she wondered. After a moment she looked up, a small smile on her face. "Oh course," she said. "He's protecting me. He doesn't really want to go. Just putting on a brave face so I won't worry. My wonderful baby boy."

She stood, chuckling to herself as she straightened the blankets on Alfred's bed. With a final pat, as if the boy was in them, she turned to leave.

Gilbert appeared in a garden and glared at the flowers as he waited for his presence to be acknowledged. After a few moments, Francis sauntered forth between rows of rose bushes. He smirked when he saw Gilbert.

"Ah, my friend. I've been expecting you. Pull over the table and chairs, I'll fetch us some drinks."

Gilbert stayed silent but did as he was told. He sat down at the glass garden table and leaned on his elbows as he awaited Francis and his never-ending supply of alcohol.

Francis returned and poured Gilbert a straight shot but mixed his own drink. As he swirled it, he said, "So, you are worried about Daka, no? I wouldn't worry too much, she'll recover, even if it's not fast enough for your liking."

Gilbert downed the shot and slacked his glass against the table. "I'm not worried."

Francis raised his eyebrows; Gilbert was trying to sound unconcerned and failing to Francis' trained ear. "You say that, Gil, but you don't mean it."

"You need to give me much more to drink before you can expect a conversation about feelings, Francis."

With a chuckle, Francis complied, filling his glass. Gilbert knocked it back. "Sometimes I wish I were human. It takes way too much of this stuff to do anything to me."

"So it does."

Gilbert glared at Francis, who swirled his glass but had not touched its contents. "What are you thinking about. You're supposed to be helping me with my problems, O god of love."

Francis frowned, choosing his words carefully. "I am almost… relived that Daka is incapacitated for the time being. Her armies won't move without her direct orders."

Gilbert stood, slamming his glass onto the table. It shattered. "You dare say something so treacherous?" he shouted. "You have reason to hate them more than of any of us. Are you going soft?"

"If soft is weary of this conflict, then yes. I suppose so. What has it been, Gil, an age?"

"An age since they robbed you of your most precious gift."

Francis flinched but carried on. "Even so. All this destruction will not bring my music back. Besides, let us not pretend that I was the sole cause of this war. The theft of my music was an excuse."

Gilbert turned his back, disgusted and spat on the ground. "You were never much of a fighter. Throw some blood at you and you'll run back here to your little garden and hide."

"I don't think you understand, Gilbert," Francis hissed. "Daka murdered an entire clan of people yesterday. A people you respect and care for— don't deny it, you admire them. Their freedom and the bonds they share with their animals, your animals." Gilbert pushed away from the table, retreating from Francis' words.

"And she killed them," Francis continued, rising to follow. "Murdered them in cold blood, all because they have the favor of a Daemon."

"Some friend you are," Gilbert said, whipping around, his voice oddly high. "Declaring things you know nothing about. I don't know why I even came here." And with a final glare, he vanished.

Francis pushed in their chairs and picked up their glasses. "I hope you'll see soon, my friend," he said to where Gilbert had been sitting.

Alfred touched down on the peak of a hill, relieved to be away from Caelei for awhile. The wind was damp and just barely warm, and high, stone-grey clouds blocked the sky as far as the eye could see.

The green rolling hills were dotted with purple and brown as heather and gorse grew wild in the relative warmth of early summer. Alfred stared out as he stretched trying to loosen his muscles stiff from sitting.

"You're a bit early today," said a voice from behind him.

He startled and turned to see Arthur, who had arrived silently. The Daemon came up beside him to look out over the hills. Alfred caught some emotion in his eyes, though it was guarded and indecipherable. After a moment, he blinked out of his thoughts and turned to lead Alfred a little ways to were he had collected some firewood. After setting up the skeleton of the fire, he motioned for Alfred to begin.

Alfred sighed. It seemed that yesterday hadn't made Arthur any less reserved with him. The Daemon sat across the hilltop looking off into the distance as Alfred played, saying nothing. When night fell, he began to make the fire in the same silence.

Shifting, Alfred tried to find a more comfortable position, but he was restless and the damp air was chilling him. He stopped playing. Arthur looked up, frowning.

"Why did you stop?" he asked.

"Do you think I could do something else for a little while? I need to move."

Arthur frowned but nodded. "I suppose. We could walk, if you'd like."

Alfred stood, shaking out his arms and fingers. He offered a hand to Arthur, who ignored it and stood on his own. Arthur lead the way down the hillside and Alfred followed beside him. When Arthur made no sign of speaking, Alfred decided to.

"Daka won't be able to go anywhere for awhile."

Arthur snorted. Alfred continued.

"They— the gods— know it was you."

Arthur did not break his stride. "Did you tell them?"

"Not directly. I said I didn't see who you were, but then they asked me to describe how you fought."

"I do have a rather distinctive style," Arthur said with a small smirk. "But why did you lie before that? Why didn't you say it was me?"

"Arlya's already against me coming here. I thought if she knew it was you who did that to a goddess, she would actually stop me from seeing you."

"Yet you were honest about my fighting style." asked Arthur, bemused.

"I was under pressure," Alfred said defensively. "And I didn't know they'd get it that fast. And just for the record, Arlya was very close to chaining me up and not letting me come."

Arthur chuckled as he found a path that meandered between the hills; they walked side-by-side, Alfred squinting at the path in the dark, for the only light came from the moon that just barely shone through the clouds. Arthur was quiet for awhile before speaking again.

"You wanted to come to see me?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level.

Alfred was oblivious to the weight of the question. "Sure. I like it here. It's so alive, and it's nice to be away from the gods for awhile."

"Oh." Arthur couldn't quite mask his disappointment.

"Um… Were you expecting a different answer?"

"I wasn't expecting any particular answer," said Arthur irritably and looked up at the sky. It was hard for Alfred to tell, but Arthur's face appeared a bit flushed in the pale half-light.

Suddenly, clear sky dotted with stars broke through the clouds. Arthur examined them awhile before stopping.

"It's getting late," he said, "The Rabbit has already risen and the Sparrow is starting to peak over the horizon."

Alfred stopped and stared at Arthur as if he had spoken some other language. "What?"

Arthur pointed up to the sky. Alfred's eyes widened at the sight. There were a few stars in Caelei, but none so bright and not nearly as many. As the last of the clouds dissipated, stars shone like crystal scattered across the night.

"It's so beautiful," he whispered.

Arthur looked at him, confused. "I suppose it is rather magnificent."

"I've never seen anything like it."

"You've never seen anything like the night sky?"

"This is normal?" Alfred asked, amazed.

"Er, yes. Well, normal for a clear night. Come on, back to the fire now, it's getting late."

Arthur had to pull Alfred along, as he wouldn't stop staring up at the heavens. When they returned, all Alfred wanted to do was look.

"What did you mean back there? Rabbit? Sparrow? What are those?" Alfred asked as Arthur got the fire going. Once it was crackling away, Arthur sat down beside Alfred and pointed to a bright cluster of stars high over the horizon. The three brightest made a "V" while two others came down in an angled line.

"They're constellations, star pictures if you will. See those five bright stars? They make up Laurel, the Rabbit."

Alfred squinted long and hard to where Arthur was pointing. "I don't see a rabbit anywhere," he said finally.

"You have to use your imagination. The three in the V-shape make the ears while the other two mark the body. See, she's sitting up."

"That's not a rabbit. It looks like some bent stick or something."

"A bent stick?" Arthur repeated. "That's no way to describe a heroic lady."

"So now the stick rabbit is heroic? I don't get it."

Arthur sighed and looked up at the sky. "No, you idiot. Laurel was once a woman. A beautiful woman from the plains, with long hair the color of the sun and large, black eyes that were pools to look into," Arthur began and Alfred was instantly captured by the soft, well-practiced words that rolled off his tongue.

"One day, a soldier from the city of Aenea came down and found Laurel amongst the wild grasses with her horses. Immediately he desired her for her beauty and gentle nature. But she spurned his advances, preferring to stay in plains as a free woman.

"One night, the soldier and his friends were out drinking, and the soldier began to tell of the Beauty of the plains, whom he wanted for his wife. Drunk beyond reason, they decided to ride to the camp of the plains dwellers and seize Laurel for the soldier. When they arrived, the soldier demanded Laurel accompany him back to Aenea, but once again she refused.

"Furious, the solder and his friends threatened to get violent, and seized Laurel's younger sister and held her at spear point. Finally, to spare her sister, Laurel agreed to go with them. They rode for many days before finally arriving back in Aenea. Within the city walls, Laurel turned pale and sickly, for there were no great howling winds and the sunlight was pale and dim from within the town houses. However, she retained an austere beauty and thus, the desire of the soldier. Finally one night, she could take the confines of the city no more. She ran out onto the high walls, intending to throw herself off, for she could not leave without the soldier following her and bringing her back. In the moment of her despair, a ghostly light shone before her and from it appeared the High Daemon of the plains, patron to her people.

"'My fair daughter, do not weep, for I come to aid you,' the Daemon said with a sweet, soothing voice. 'But how can you help me?' Laurel asked. 'Even if I return home, there is nothing to stop the soldier from taking me again.'"

Arthur glanced at Alfred, who watched him with undivided attention, eyes wide. Satisfied, he continued. "Shouts echoed behind them from the sleeping city as the soldier realized his prize was gone. Men were running up the city battlements, shouting as the recognized Laurel. She turned back to the Daemon, eyes glimmering with the faintest hope. The Daemon reached out her hand and took the woman into her bright light. A moment later, they were on the open plains, but the Daemon held not a woman in her arms, but a tawny rabbit with huge black eyes. The Daemon placed her on the ground and stroked her ears. 'Now go, daughter, they cannot find you now.'

"The rabbit blinked and ran off, towards home, the threat of confinement gone forever," Arthur concluded. He looked to Alfred, who was oddly silent. Suddenly self-conscious, he fidgeted as he waited for a response.

"So that's where rabbits come from?" Alfred asked finally.

Arthur scoffed. "Of course not. No god or Daemon has that kind of power to transform someone. It's a human story, and one that I quite fancy. Passed down by the nomads of the plains, obviously."

Alfred lapsed into thoughtful silence and looked up at the sky. A few wisps of cloud floated across it, warning of more grey skies to come. "So do all the stars have stories?" he asked.

"Good heavens, no. There are too many. Constellations usually do, but those are only the few stars that are useful for navigating or telling the time."

"And you know them?"

"I know many of them."

"Will you tell me?"

"No. That wasn't part of the deal," Arthur said sharply. "You play for me. That is what I get for sparing you."

Alfred deflated, disappointed. He picked a particularly mournful tune of his lyre. Arthur gave a put-upon sigh.

"Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "I suppose I could share a few. But you still come here first and foremost to play for me. Remember that. I reserve the right to—"

He was interrupted as Alfred grabbed his shoulders and awkwardly hugged him. With a yelp he tried to wriggle away, but Alfred's hold was stronger than he expected.

"Thank you," Alfred said, privately celebrating that his guilt trip had worked. "I want to know everything about the sky. The stars, how to read them and see rabbits out of bent sticks. Maybe I'll see them up close some day!"

"Alright. Fine. Whatever- but would you kindly get off me!" Arthur shouted, having given up trying to extract himself from Alfred. "I'll tell you about them, but some other time. You have a lot of music to make up tonight already. Now play."

Still grinning, Alfred let his arms drop and began to play. Arthur leaned back on the grass, contentment spreading through him as he lay, gazing up at the stars. Alfred looked over and smiled to himself. Arthur's reservations seemed to have vanished, at least for the time being, and Alfred found that he was happy for it. Eventually, after insisting that he was just resting his eyes for a moment, he fell asleep. Once be began to snore softly, Arthur rose to his feet and stood a moment on the flickering firelight before moving to smother the flames with the loose, moist soil. With a final glance at the gathering clouds in the sky and a small, fond smile, he vanished, leaving Alfred alone on the hillside.

Alfred was woken by gentle fingers threading through his hair and looked up, blinking in the bright though overcast morning, into Arlya's face. She was frowning and pondering the landscape, as if it had personally wronged her. Alfred shifted into a sitting position, yawning.

"Morning."

"Good morning, Alfred."

"You found me quickly," he said. Arlya shrugged then changed the subject.

"You spent the night on the cold hard ground. Again. Why didn't you call for me?"

"Fell asleep without meaning to."

She sighed. "The least that Daemon could do would be to give you something soft to sleep on."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Arlya, I'm fine. I can sleep on the ground or with no blanket without dying."

"But you get cold so easily."

"Can we just go?" Alfred asked. It was too early for this discussion.

"Yes, let us. You can get cleaned up then," she said. Alfred took her arm with a final roll of his eyes and vanished from the human realm.

A/N: Once again, please leave a review if you have any encouragement/critiques/corrections (I edited this at 1:30 in the morning, so I'm sure there are some little things)/speculations or just to let me know that people are enjoy reading what I'm writing as much as I enjoy writing it.

So as you might have read on my other story, I'm trying to figure out Live Journal so I can post this and Absoltum to the USUK community. But I have no idea how to do anything on LJ, so if you could PM me or leave it in a review, that would be amazing and I'd love you forever.

~Kitten