Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet
by K. Stonham
first released 13th January 2022

They got home later than expected, due to a spot of monster hunting en route that had turned a bit more intensive than Douxie was expecting. He and Archie could probably have done with some backup, but given that they were still on the outs with Zoe and the HexTech crew, and he was not about to involve the Trollhunters gang with monster hunting on a school night, Douxie felt that he and his familiar had managed to acquit themselves rather well.

(And as for the knickerknackor venom burn on his forearm... well, he'd washed it clean in one of the city's drinking fountains and the skin was already starting to knit together shiny and pink. He'd had worse, and better his arm than Archie's wing.)

He wasn't expecting to get home and find the lights still on. But they were, and to his surprise it was Barbara waiting up for him in the living room.

Douxie blinked. "No Jim?"

Barbara smirked. "I sent him to bed after he nearly conked out in his mashed potatoes at dinner."

Douxie glanced sideways at the familiar on his shoulder and held up a hand to complete Archie's waiting high-five. "Going to say 'I told you so'?"

Archie looked superior. "Of course not. It hardly does any good while he's not here to hear it, does it?"

"Ah, so you're just going to gloat at him all day tomorrow, eh?"

Archie didn't deny it.

Barbara just sighed and shook her head. "That boy."

"He's out to save the world, he ought to be able to mess around and make some of the same stupid teenage mistakes others do," Douxie pointed out, sitting down.

"Oh, I have no problem with the stupid teenage mistakes, I just wish he'd use his head and make them on a Friday." She sighed. "I was really not anticipating the need to stock up on Red Bull until he was in college."

"Like mother, like son?" Douxie quipped before he could think about it. At Barbara's half-hearted glare, he smiled and walked it back. "I don't think he'll be repeating the experiment, not now that he knows the results. Sleep deficit's not fun."

Side-eyeing him, Archie muttered, "You would know."

Barbara gave a small laugh. "Walt called me on his lunch break, asking if Jim was okay. I spent most of the afternoon worrying, until he told me just why he'd been falling asleep all day."

Douxie held still. "And did he show you?"

"Mm-hmm." She took a sip from her still-steaming cup. "I really was not expecting a sleepy half-troll to look so cute, you know? It took me back to when he was three and fighting a nap."

Douxie could picture that - tiny Jim, all big blue eyes and mussed hair, trying to stay awake. "He must have been adorable."

A grin. "He was."

Archie curled up in Douxie's lap; Douxie automatically started petting him. "I do hope you have photographs to share," the dragon said.

"Do I ever." The subject of baby photos, and the mischief of sharing them, lit Barbara up.

"Sadly, I haven't any of Douxie; photography wouldn't be invented for centuries by the time I adopted him. But rest assured, he was also adorable."

Douxie's hand stopped. "Archie!" Douxie hissed.

"Oh, don't be like that. All tiny humans are adorable, you know that."

"I've seen your baby portrait," Douxie shot back. "Charlie was all too happy to show it to me in the future. Shall we talk about that, hmm?"

"Ahh... perhaps not?" Archie offered, wide-eyed and horrified. He and Douxie stared at one another for a moment. Douxie counted it as a victory when Archie looked away first. He resumed petting, detente achieved.

"Besides, I was filthy and lice-ridden when you found me, then half-feral for most of the rest of my childhood," Douxie said. "Not exactly cute."

"Yes, I remember." Archie looked at Barbara. "It turns out a small dragon alone isn't quite enough to raise a troublesome, impulsive human child. I started having to drag him into human civilizations every now and again just to replace his rags. We were..." He cast about for a description. "Exceptionally light-fingered, shall we put it, for several years. Until Douxie got entranced watching some shysters and conmen and took part in his first apprenticeship."

"Lucky us, I turned out to be good at it."

Barbara was wide-eyed, her cup frozen halfway to her mouth. Carefully, she put it back down on the coffee table. "As a mother, I'm horrified."

Douxie shrugged. "We survived. And learned rather a lot of useful skills." A small smile. "If we ever do a family camping trip, I'll be happy to show off some of them."

"A camping trip?"

Archie showed a sharp-toothed grin. "Despite his metrosexual punk rocker looks, Douxie is actually a fairly accomplished woodsman."

"Oh, I'm invested in my looks?" Douxie demanded. "So says the shapeshifter!"

Barbara lifted a hand to cover her mouth. It completely failed to hide her smile at their bickering. "So," she said after a moment, "a family camping trip?"

Douxie froze.

"That sounds like a decision, Douxie," Barbara said softly.

"Ahh..."

"I would love for us to do a family camping trip," she continued. "Maybe this summer, after Jim's done with school, if there's no trouble on the horizon? Maybe Walt could even come with us," she added. Then sat there, waiting for Douxie's response.

A thousand thoughts and feelings whirled in his head, none of them making sense. Douxie gave a pleading look to Archie, who cocked his head to the side and considered things for a moment. "Do you know," he said thoughtfully, "we've never been to Yosemite. Perhaps it's time to take a look?"

Douxie drew a breath, thinking. Then another. And another. Finally he looked back up at Barbara. "Arch and I are a package deal," he said carefully. "Always have been, always will be. I don't do anything without him."

"That being said," Archie said, addressing either no one or the both of them, "my mother died before I hatched - part of why Dad was always so overprotective," he grumbled momentarily. "But, regardless, that relationship is not something I've ever experienced, and neither is it something I've ever felt I lack." He waited a moment, then said gently, "You needn't also adopt me in order to adopt Douxie, Barbara. And, Douxie," he added, looking up, "we needn't have all the same experiences and parental figures to be familiars, you know that."

Douxie breathed a laugh, his fingers tightening in Archie's fur. "If we did," he conceded, "you'd've needed to drag me home to Charlie centuries ago."

"What is being familiars?" Barbara asked. "I mean, I guess, what does that actually mean?"

"Quantum entanglement would be the simplest way to describe it," Archie replied. "Magically, we're connected. We support each other both physically and emotionally. Where I end and Douxie begins can be... nebulous, sometimes."

"I'm the ideas, Arch is the impulse control. We tend to be complementary. Sometimes, under duress, we can feel each other's feelings, hear each other's thoughts," Douxie added softly, glancing down at the cat-shaped dragon in his lap. He looked back up, met Barbara's eyes. "Archie and I will always put each other first. It's instinct. It's familiar's nature."

"That doesn't sound like a bad thing," she ventured.

"It can be, under the wrong circumstances," Archie told her. "Familiar pairs are... rare, these days. There were never very many of us, even when magic was better known and accepted. Not many magical creatures will seek or find another to whom they wish to tie their lives irrevocably, until death."

"That sounds almost like a marriage."

Douxie laughed. "It does a bit, doesn't it? But, no. It's certainly not. Imagine romantic feelings getting tangled up with a familiar bond, Arch!"

The dragon sniffed. "What a dreadful mess that would make. No, call it a perfect Platonic partnership instead."

"Nice alliteration," Barbara said.

"Regardless." Archie turned to look up at him. "Douxie?"

Douxie breathed out a long, low sigh and met Barbara's blue eyes. He knew nothing about Jim's dad, but it was very clear from who Jim had inherited his eyes. And despite Jim's assertion that he and Douxie looked like they could be blood relations, it was very hard to make that same claim between Douxie and Barbara Lake. The only thing they had in common was their height. "Being Jim's brother is an honor and a privilege," he said softly. "Being considered your son, I suspect, would be the same. But are you sure you actually want that, Barbara?"

She blinked. "Why wouldn't I?"

A breath before confession. "I have an... extremely checkered past," Douxie told her. "I don't think I've got any active warrants out for my arrest, but there's always that possibility, because what's right and what's legal aren't always the same thing."

She nodded. "What else?"

"If you want me to be an upstanding citizen and warn Jim away from drugs, from tattoos, from counterculture in general... I'm not that person." Douxie shook his head. "I've been a thief and a conman and a forger. I've killed people, in war and in self-defense. I've never committed adultery or fornication, but most of the other major sins I've checked off like they were on a bucket list, Barbara." He held her gaze, wanting her to understand. "I've not told most of this to Jim, nor do I intend to, but by any measure, I am not a good person. Are you sure that's what you want to add to your family?"

"I haven't set foot inside a church since my father died," she said quietly. "Not even for my own wedding - Jim's dad and I did that at city hall. So whatever bearing you think that has on me, forget it. As to the rest... do you really think I don't know the difference between legality and morality? Or the dire implications of necessity, Douxie?" Her eyes were hard. "I watched my mother sell herself into marriage with an abusive man, to keep bread on our table. People do what they must, when they're backed into a corner. That doesn't make you a bad person."

"But-"

"Because what I see is a young man who's taken one hell of a lot of knocks, and still managed to come out of them kind. Someone who would rather run away and hurt himself than hurt anyone he cares for. Someone who's smart, creative, and responsible, and who loves with every thread of his being, and fights for those he loves with the same same intensity. Douxie," she said, "how could I not want you to be my son?"

"I know next to nothing about being a son. I haven't had a mother in nine hundred and fourteen years."

"No," said Barbara gently. "But you've had a father, haven't you?"

A father who would rather seal him away than give him a chance. A father who would sacrifice him to the greater good, not one who would tell him that he was the greater good. Douxie sat still as that hit home. As anger and hurt warred with obedience and pride and love, and they all lost to one another in a tangled morass of feelings. "I did have a father," he said. "In another timeline. I don't think I do anymore."

"Families fight sometimes," said Barbara. She shifted over to sit next to him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure he'll come around."

"If he does," Douxie said, "it's not going to be for quite a while."

"Centuries, if then," Archie put in.

"Merlin's rather enamored of the idea that he's always right," Douxie managed. "I have only ever once seen him admit he was wrong. And that was about the man who murdered him."

She nodded. "Sometimes keeping up hope hurts more than you can bear."

It felt like his heart was blocking up his throat, choking Douxie. He couldn't speak.

"Douxie, if Merlin doesn't value you, that's his loss, and his problem," Barbara said, infinitely gentle. Her fingertips brushed through his bangs. "And he's the only one who can fix that for himself. But I would take you to be my son, gladly, with no hesitation, and no questions asked."

Douxie's fingers twitched. His eyes closed. He wanted this so badly... but he was too used to the things he wanted being taken from him. Stolen by time, or his own inadequacies, or the fact that they'd never been as real as he'd thought they were. He trusted that Jim wouldn't just one day wake up and realize Douxie was a mistake. He wasn't sure if he could trust Barbara the same way.

Jumbled thoughts about leaps of faith tumbled through his mind, chaotic and not helping at all.

Then, like a breath of clarity, he remembered...

"Jim get his kindness from you," he said, meeting Barbara's eyes. "I look at you and see so much of what makes him worthy of Excalibur."

Barbara was made of the same stuff as her son, pure and determined, without an ounce of treachery in her body. She was good, through and through. And just as Jim had unknowingly helped Douxie to grow into something stronger, something better...

...So, too, did Barbara's unwavering love.

Douxie opened his eyes and looked into Barbara's clear blue ones. "Yes," he said quietly, and knew in his heart, in the core of his being, that this was the right choice.

Barbara's breath caught, then her arms wrapped around Douxie, Archie caught between them. Douxie held her back, embracing his mother. And like that, without any fanfare, Hisirdoux Casperan, formerly of Camelot and a good dozen other places on Earth, slipped quietly from one family into another.

"Ugh." Claire knew she'd seen something about transubstantive definitions before, but she couldn't remember where. Maybe in the section about liminal spaces? Which had been horrifying reading; really, most of the wizard's version of A Brief Recapitulation was. But she'd far rather have uneasy dreams and be jumpy at shadows than not know what was out there, lurking unseen and threatening her family. Her town. Her world.

She found the book's index and used it, skimming to where she thought the reference had been, but a quick look at the page came up with nothing.

Hissing through her teeth, she looked across the room and concentrated.

Her backpack unzipped itself. And inside... ah, there it was. Pleased with being able to feel the shape of what she was looking for, Claire drew her notebook out remotely, followed by the multi-colored pen she used for taking notes in class.

Her notes on wizardry were definitely going to be done in the purple ink.

Concentrating, she drew the items to her, using Douxie's trick of imagining invisible extending hands. An infinite number of them, he'd said, grinning, while she'd remembered just how many brooms he'd been manipulating when he'd cleaned up Nomura's museum.

Two imaginary hands was definitely enough for now, she thought, drawing the items toward herself with what Douxie called levitation and she preferred to think of as telekinesis. It was slow, and unwieldy, but he'd promised her that magic was, in fact, like the Force in Star Wars. If she believed she could move something, then she could.

Given that she'd seen him yeet an entire stone pillar into Nimue's face, once upon a time travel trip, without breaking a sweat, Claire was inclined to listen to him.

"Claire, it's well past time for you to be in bed-" her mom said, opening Claire's bedroom door. Her voice died in her throat as her eyes widened, staring.

The notebook and pen, both glowing vivid purple, hovered in the air in Claire's room, halfway between the open backpack and Claire's waiting hands.

Shocked silence ruled the moment, for both of them.

Then the notebook and pen clattered lifeless to the ground. Her mom turned eyes to Claire, and Claire, absolutely certain that she was going to be in trouble and not knowing what kind and not knowing if she could handle it, blurted out "I'm sorry!" and pulled a shadow portal around herself, running to somewhere she knew would be safe.

"Douxie!" Claire barreled into the Lakes' living room out of a shadow portal, her eyes wide and panicked.

Douxie's head had snapped up the instant he felt her portal opening. And now, seeing her obvious distress- "Claire, what's wrong?" he asked, letting go of Barbara and standing.

"Douxie, my mom-she saw me levitating things, she came into my room-"

He crossed the room, taking hold of her upper arms. "Are you hurt?" he began. A shake of her head. "Did she kick you out?"

"She didn't have time to," Claire said. "I didn't let her. Douxie, we're Catholic, you told me how the story goes-"

"There's stories and there's stories, Claire," he told her. "There's lots of shades of religion and family." And he hoped for her sake that family would win out over religion this time too.

"Your mother saw you using magic?" Barbara asked, coming up to them.

Big-eyed and clearly off-kilter, Claire nodded, her teeth biting into her lower lip.

Barbara took a breath. "All right. First things first. Do you feel safe going home tonight?"

Claire's mouth shut. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she didn't. She shook her head.

"Right." Barbara nodded. "You'll stay here tonight. I'll call your mother and let her know you're safe. The rest of it can probably wait for morning, all right? It's past midnight, and you have school tomorrow."

"O-okay," Claire said, still very obviously not happy.

"Come on," Douxie said, taking her hand and leading her to the stairs. "You can take my bed, Arch and I'll share the sofa. And I'm certain there's a Papa Skull shirt somewhere in my drawers that you can use for a nightgown."

Barbara nodded. "There's some spare toothbrushes under the bathroom sink."

"This is stupid," Claire complained as she followed him upstairs. "I'm stupid. They found out about this before, they were okay with it. Why am I panicking now?"

Douxie hummed. "How'd they find out about it last time around?"

"We showed them," Claire said. "Doctor Lake had remembered things and called my parents and Toby's Nana over for an, I don't know, an intervention or something. Then the house got attacked by goblins and Jim and Toby and I had to fight them off right in front of everyone."

"Showing your parents that you were in control of your power, and were using it for good," Douxie summed up, leading her into his bedroom. He pulled open a dresser drawer and started rummaging through it. One of his concert shirts was old and soft and worn, the neck stretched out, perfect for her to sleep in. "Whereas this time, your mother walked in on you playing with an unknown power in secret. Which implies shame and possible wickedness, to some people's minds. Plus it took the choice of timing away from you."

"Yeah, I guess." Claire accepted the shirt from him.

"And you didn't know then what you know now about the history of persecution of wizards," Douxie added, fishing his own pajamas out from under his pillow. "So part of you being nerved up about this is my fault, and I'm sorry."

"No!" Claire protested. "Trust me, I'd rather know than not." Then she froze, before her hand met her face. "Kleb," she swore. "I left A Brief Recapitulation on my desk! It was open, I was reading it-"

Douxie's eyes widened. "That... could be a problem," he admitted. "Do you think your parents will destroy it?"

"Before tomorrow morning?" Claire shook her head. "Hide it away from me so I can't study it more? Definitely."

"I think we can retrieve it if it comes to that," Douxie said dryly. "Though," he added as the thought occurred to him, "I do actually think some congratulations are in order."

She blinked. "Congratulations?" Claire asked skeptically.

Douxie smiled at her. "Well, that was a full-sized portal you managed, completely on target for where you wished to go. Do you feel strained at all?"

Claire's eyes widened. "...No," she admitted.

Douxie held up his hand. "Then I think your shadowmancy worries are over."

"Huh." Claire considered that, then gave him a hesitant high-five.

Separately, they each changed into sleep clothes, and brushed their teeth. Douxie made sure Claire was settled into his bed and had everything she needed, and turned off the light, moving to close the bedroom door behind himself on the way out, when she said, in a small voice, "Douxie?"

He turned back. "Yes, Claire?"

"Could you stay? Just for a couple minutes?"

She looked so small and young, under the covers. Younger than the sixteen of her body, or the eighteen of her mind. "Of course," Douxie said, and crossed the room to sit cross-legged by the bed.

"I know it's being a baby-" she started.

He laughed, lowly. "Claire, you've had a shock to the system. It's perfectly fine and normal to need reassurance. And as your friend and as your teacher, it's my privilege to give it."

Her hand dropped down, hanging out from the bottom of the sheet. Douxie took it in his own. "Want a lullaby?" he asked, as Archie poked his head in the open door, then came over to curl up in Douxie's lap.

"Please."

Douxie hummed and thought about it for a moment, then remembered a song he'd workshopped with his band a couple years back. It hadn't quite struck the right tone, so they'd never done anything with it. But if he softened it, slowed it down...

"The Wailing Woman, she cries all alone," he sang quietly, rearranging notes on the fly. "'Where have all my children gone? Who has stolen them all away?' And she begs, and she cries, and she'll make you pay..."

By the time the song, low and true, full of love and loss and mourning, had finished, Claire's hand was lax in his, her breath even and deep. Douxie smiled and moved her arm to the top of the covers as Archie stretched and jumped from his lap, then stealthed out of the door behind the dragon, closing it gently.

Downstairs, he found pillows on the sofa, sheets tucked in neatly beneath the cushions, and, waiting for him, a blanket at the foot, all the room's curtains drawn closed against morning's inevitable light.

Signs of a mother's love, even if Barbara herself was also already abed.

Smiling, Douxie settled in for the night, curled up against Archie, and turned the lights off, awash in the warmth of knowing that he was loved, and had his loved ones gathered near, all under the same roof for the night.

Perfectly content, he closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

Author's Note: It is reeeaaaaalllly hard to write a Barbara-adopting-Douxie scene that's better than the one in Tales of Arcadia: Heirs to the Arcana over on AO3, so I side-stepped and went a different way.