[TDIR Fic]: A Different Kind of Toll - K+ - 1/1
A/N: You all know I have not an ounce of willpower whatsoever, don't you? So someone was pimping the Let's Get Gay Married Comment Fic Meme and while there are a lot of lovely prompts, usually of the SPN variety, there was actually one for The Dark is Rising! Seriously, guys, I have loved those novels and shipped these two since childhood, so I couldn't let it go unfilled! But I justify it because gay marriage being legalized in NY should be celebrated! ♥
Title: A Different Kind of Toll
Disclaimer: I, ladyknightanka, do not own The Dark is Rising; Susan Cooper does. If I'd had any part in it's creation, Bran wouldn't have had his memories erased, at least. Please don't replicate my silly work without permission. Quoted biblical verses are not mine.
Warnings: K+ for implied sex and some religious stuff.
Other Notes: ~1k. Bran/Will for the amazing shanaqui.
Summary: Owen doesn't mind Will and Bran's relationship nearly as much as Bran feared he would, but he does disapprove of them having premarital sex. Gay marriage may not be even slightly legal in Wales during the eighties, yet Owen thinks it's the promise before God that matters most.
-
A Different Kind of Toll
-
Welsh to English Translations:
Dewin: Wizard
Twyn: Town
Da: Father
Cariad: Love
Arrogance is Bran's default setting. He is the most surefooted man - even when he's only a man and not all that he could be - Will has ever met.
Yet no one, heir to Arthur's throne or not, is without their Achilles' Heel, and Bran, as brash and brilliant as he is, has but three: his insecurity over his albinism, over his relationship with Will, and with his father.
Because the first is one of his most tempting traits, testing even Will's formidable willpower with a delicate canvas of snow white, pale petal pink and new coin gold, the second is nothing at all to worry about. How can Bran fear that Will will leave him, after all, if the dewin is intent on marking every inch as his own?
The third, however, might be a viable concern, partly due to the first two contingents. They cannot spend every waking moment at the Stanton residence for a number of reasons - the house being overcrowded, Bran missing his homeland, Owen growing suspicious - and it really came down to the latter.
Will's parents and siblings might be wholeheartedly accepting of his new lover, but Owen Davies is a man of God, Bran's only family, the person Bran had given up everything to remain with, and for the young royal's sake, they couldn't afford to pique him.
For a while, that is simple enough. The man is somewhat suspicious by nature, but Bran is twenty now, having known Will for nearly half his life, and Owen is finally assured that Will will never hurt his son - would rather hurt himself first. In fact, he may even enjoy having company in their desolate abode, far removed from the rest of Twyn, and he's certainly noticed how the notes Bran plays on his harp are lighter, longer, sweeter, as opposed to the mournful melodies he otherwise performed.
Will understands that, and by the Light, he does his best to keep things that way, helping with the livestock, the farms, and any other menial tasks the town-folk go about on a daily basis, without a single complaint - not that he is one to stoop to whining, anyway. When the rest of the world is sleeping, he aids in other ways, tapping into his magic to coerce rain to fall during drought season, soothing the more ill-tempered animals in a way a human never could, giving new life to otherwise barren earth to make it flourish.
Every day but one, he gets home from these errands to a pat on the back from Owen and, more rewarding, one of Bran's appreciative, secretive smiles, for that single moment not his cocky smirk, and that is enough for Will to be content with. He has the patience to slowly prod and push, rather than barreling forward recklessly. If only his lover could say the same.
On the one day, the day different from all the rest, Bran grows tired of simply smiling and sharing looks and when he whispers, “I miss you,” against a protesting Will's mouth, patience loses some of its virtue.
Perhaps, in the end, it is both their faults that they're caught - Bran for being so seductive, Will for never being able to refuse him, but mostly Bran for forgetting to lock his bedroom door. And when Owen Davies pushes the flimsy barrier open, to ask them what they'd like for dinner, instead finding them a tangled, shirtless mess, they are both expecting - dreading - his reaction.
Would he get angry? Would he go so far as to try and hurt either of them? Would he forbid them from visiting one another? Would he disown poor Bran, who had disowned his own blood for him?
He chooses none of the above, but does frown disapprovingly. “Bran, you know better than to do this before marriage.”
In response, his son pauses in his struggle to extricate himself from Will's legs and stammers, “Da...m-marriage?”
Will chooses that opportune moment to calmly add, though he's feeling anything but calm, “Mr. Davies, Bran and I are men. Marriage is not an option for us.”
“Yes, Da, men!” Bran punctuates, somewhat pointlessly.
Owen regards them both with a steady gaze, then nods and backs out of the room, mumbling, “I see,” too soft for anyone to catch.
Yet Will is not just anyone - he is an Old One - so he hears well enough, but even his limitless array of powers are not enough to comfort Bran, who is thrown by his father's odd declarations.
A week passes with no sign of bridges being mended - nor even that bridges were broken in the first place, since Owen acts as though nothing has changed. A week passes and Sunday arrives, prompting the three men to quietly, awkwardly, shuffle to chapel.
Will is not one to get surprised very often or easily, but when he enters and sees his family occupying the pews - with even Steven on leave from his naval duties - he is more shocked than any time he's ever been before, especially because everyone is lovingly smiling at he and a fidgeting Bran.
“Da?” the young prince inquires hesitantly.
Owen turns to face them, his own lips slightly quirked, then draws his son into his arms. It's quick, with nowhere near the heartiness that Will's parents' hugs have, but there's love there - a love Owen clearly feels, which Bran reciprocates, that neither men often display.
“God is loving, Bran,” Owen whispers. “He will accept you two when the rest of the world looks away. He always has.”
Bran nods in reply, seemingly too choked up to speak, and his father directs them both to the alter. “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (Cor 13:13).
Will sees the glowing expression of joy adorning Bran's already painfully beautiful face, how his golden eyes sparkle more avidly than usual, and he can't help but wonder, does Bran remember meeting his birth father, does he remember hearing something similar?
Love is the strongest of magics.
He supposes that is one of the few questions he may never know the answer to, with Bran's true self washed away at his own whim, but he's certain of one thing: both of his lover's fathers are proud, and rightly, of their wonderful son.
The tapering of Owen's words signal that of his own thoughts, and he smiles against Bran's mouth as their family lauds them.
-
And Thus The Honeymoon Began
-
A/N: There's probably a bit of confusion with all the stuff about 'true selves', forgotten memories, and blood parents. Here's the best explanation I can offer: Bran is actually the son of King Arthur, but because Guinevere had been unfaithful to the king before her son's birth, she asked the most powerful dewin/wizard (Merriman/Merlin) to send her forward in time so she could leave her child somewhere safe. That somewhere is with Owen Davies, a farmer and religious man in Wales, who fell in love with the two when he found them and adopted Bran after his mother left. In the final book, Bran meets King Arthur and is asked if he wants to return to his time, but he chooses to remain with Owen and has his memories erased. Will, meanwhile, is his dewin. Sorry for the length of this, but I hope it explains some things. Enjoy!
Title: A Different Kind of Toll
Disclaimer: I, ladyknightanka, do not own The Dark is Rising; Susan Cooper does. If I'd had any part in it's creation, Bran wouldn't have had his memories erased, at least. Please don't replicate my silly work without permission. Quoted biblical verses are not mine.
Warnings: K+ for implied sex and some religious stuff.
Other Notes: ~1k. Bran/Will for the amazing shanaqui.
Summary: Owen doesn't mind Will and Bran's relationship nearly as much as Bran feared he would, but he does disapprove of them having premarital sex. Gay marriage may not be even slightly legal in Wales during the eighties, yet Owen thinks it's the promise before God that matters most.
-
A Different Kind of Toll
-
Welsh to English Translations:
Dewin: Wizard
Twyn: Town
Da: Father
Cariad: Love
Arrogance is Bran's default setting. He is the most surefooted man - even when he's only a man and not all that he could be - Will has ever met.
Yet no one, heir to Arthur's throne or not, is without their Achilles' Heel, and Bran, as brash and brilliant as he is, has but three: his insecurity over his albinism, over his relationship with Will, and with his father.
Because the first is one of his most tempting traits, testing even Will's formidable willpower with a delicate canvas of snow white, pale petal pink and new coin gold, the second is nothing at all to worry about. How can Bran fear that Will will leave him, after all, if the dewin is intent on marking every inch as his own?
The third, however, might be a viable concern, partly due to the first two contingents. They cannot spend every waking moment at the Stanton residence for a number of reasons - the house being overcrowded, Bran missing his homeland, Owen growing suspicious - and it really came down to the latter.
Will's parents and siblings might be wholeheartedly accepting of his new lover, but Owen Davies is a man of God, Bran's only family, the person Bran had given up everything to remain with, and for the young royal's sake, they couldn't afford to pique him.
For a while, that is simple enough. The man is somewhat suspicious by nature, but Bran is twenty now, having known Will for nearly half his life, and Owen is finally assured that Will will never hurt his son - would rather hurt himself first. In fact, he may even enjoy having company in their desolate abode, far removed from the rest of Twyn, and he's certainly noticed how the notes Bran plays on his harp are lighter, longer, sweeter, as opposed to the mournful melodies he otherwise performed.
Will understands that, and by the Light, he does his best to keep things that way, helping with the livestock, the farms, and any other menial tasks the town-folk go about on a daily basis, without a single complaint - not that he is one to stoop to whining, anyway. When the rest of the world is sleeping, he aids in other ways, tapping into his magic to coerce rain to fall during drought season, soothing the more ill-tempered animals in a way a human never could, giving new life to otherwise barren earth to make it flourish.
Every day but one, he gets home from these errands to a pat on the back from Owen and, more rewarding, one of Bran's appreciative, secretive smiles, for that single moment not his cocky smirk, and that is enough for Will to be content with. He has the patience to slowly prod and push, rather than barreling forward recklessly. If only his lover could say the same.
On the one day, the day different from all the rest, Bran grows tired of simply smiling and sharing looks and when he whispers, “I miss you,” against a protesting Will's mouth, patience loses some of its virtue.
Perhaps, in the end, it is both their faults that they're caught - Bran for being so seductive, Will for never being able to refuse him, but mostly Bran for forgetting to lock his bedroom door. And when Owen Davies pushes the flimsy barrier open, to ask them what they'd like for dinner, instead finding them a tangled, shirtless mess, they are both expecting - dreading - his reaction.
Would he get angry? Would he go so far as to try and hurt either of them? Would he forbid them from visiting one another? Would he disown poor Bran, who had disowned his own blood for him?
He chooses none of the above, but does frown disapprovingly. “Bran, you know better than to do this before marriage.”
In response, his son pauses in his struggle to extricate himself from Will's legs and stammers, “Da...m-marriage?”
Will chooses that opportune moment to calmly add, though he's feeling anything but calm, “Mr. Davies, Bran and I are men. Marriage is not an option for us.”
“Yes, Da, men!” Bran punctuates, somewhat pointlessly.
Owen regards them both with a steady gaze, then nods and backs out of the room, mumbling, “I see,” too soft for anyone to catch.
Yet Will is not just anyone - he is an Old One - so he hears well enough, but even his limitless array of powers are not enough to comfort Bran, who is thrown by his father's odd declarations.
A week passes with no sign of bridges being mended - nor even that bridges were broken in the first place, since Owen acts as though nothing has changed. A week passes and Sunday arrives, prompting the three men to quietly, awkwardly, shuffle to chapel.
Will is not one to get surprised very often or easily, but when he enters and sees his family occupying the pews - with even Steven on leave from his naval duties - he is more shocked than any time he's ever been before, especially because everyone is lovingly smiling at he and a fidgeting Bran.
“Da?” the young prince inquires hesitantly.
Owen turns to face them, his own lips slightly quirked, then draws his son into his arms. It's quick, with nowhere near the heartiness that Will's parents' hugs have, but there's love there - a love Owen clearly feels, which Bran reciprocates, that neither men often display.
“God is loving, Bran,” Owen whispers. “He will accept you two when the rest of the world looks away. He always has.”
Bran nods in reply, seemingly too choked up to speak, and his father directs them both to the alter. “And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love” (Cor 13:13).
Will sees the glowing expression of joy adorning Bran's already painfully beautiful face, how his golden eyes sparkle more avidly than usual, and he can't help but wonder, does Bran remember meeting his birth father, does he remember hearing something similar?
Love is the strongest of magics.
He supposes that is one of the few questions he may never know the answer to, with Bran's true self washed away at his own whim, but he's certain of one thing: both of his lover's fathers are proud, and rightly, of their wonderful son.
The tapering of Owen's words signal that of his own thoughts, and he smiles against Bran's mouth as their family lauds them.
-
And Thus The Honeymoon Began
-
A/N: There's probably a bit of confusion with all the stuff about 'true selves', forgotten memories, and blood parents. Here's the best explanation I can offer: Bran is actually the son of King Arthur, but because Guinevere had been unfaithful to the king before her son's birth, she asked the most powerful dewin/wizard (Merriman/Merlin) to send her forward in time so she could leave her child somewhere safe. That somewhere is with Owen Davies, a farmer and religious man in Wales, who fell in love with the two when he found them and adopted Bran after his mother left. In the final book, Bran meets King Arthur and is asked if he wants to return to his time, but he chooses to remain with Owen and has his memories erased. Will, meanwhile, is his dewin. Sorry for the length of this, but I hope it explains some things. Enjoy!