Of Silence and Thievery (7/??)
Based on Alfred’s less-than-believing reaction to Arthur’s claim that he spoke with fairies in Market, Arthur decided to not tell the idiot about the charm they had given him or the deal he’d made to get said charm. If the boy could believe in magic stealing sorcerers but not fairies (which were just as real, not make believe), Arthur wasn’t going to waste his time trying to prove his sanity when he knew it was very much intact. And he’d figure out what the sodding hell the pendant he’d received from the fairies was meant for on his own too. Alfred seemed not to notice the stormy mood he’d put Arthur in with his teasing and continued on through Market with a bit of a bounce in his step.
Knowing the bounce had something to do with what the merchant Alfred visited, Yao, had said Arthur decided that if he wasn’t going to talk about fairies and their magic, he could talk about that…the fairies had called him Elder Yao, he remembered. Maybe he could revisit him and he’d believe that Arthur was speaking with fairies and could help with the pendant. He tapped Alfred’s shoulder as they left Market and headed back towards Ludwig’s inn, the sun beginning to wan in the sky. Who was that merchant? Did he know anything about Ivan?
Alfred smiled wide and nodded his head eagerly; Arthur firmly ignored the slight flip his stomach always seemed to make whenever Alfred smiled like that (he was still angry, he reminded himself, for Alfred teasing him about the fairies…had to remember that). “You bet your eyebrows he did! Yao told me that Braginski is sitting at home, pretty much licking his wounds after he got his ass kicked in the Nords!”
Arthur hardly thought Ivan got his ‘ass kicked’ by any means; in fact it was very much the reverse, but he supposed he could understand that he was defeated in the sense he didn’t get what he came for. He knows where Ivan’s stronghold is?
“I wish, but no…but he’s got ears all over that tell him that Braginski hasn’t been out of hiding, that he’s been sending his little ‘associates’ out for him. But that’s good because that means others aren’t being attacked and we have more of a chance of finding where his safehold is! It’s easier to find someone if they aren’t always moving around…”
Arthur nodded in distracted agreement (that kind of agreement that was made because there were more pressing things that needed to be done and it wasn’t worth the effort to disagree) before he tapped Alfred again and repeated his initial question. And the merchant?
Alfred gave Arthur a look before he chuckled lightly and brought them both to a stop, his hand resting warmly against Arthur’s shoulder. “I was getting to that, old man! Jeez, you’re so pushy sometimes.”
Arthur glared deeply and balled his hand with the quill into a fist, taking a threatening step toward the obnoxious young man; it did not help his mood that Alfred merely chuckled more and placed his other hand on Arthur’s remaining shoulder. “Ok, ok, I’m kidding! I met Yao through Kiku a few years ago…he’s like a shaman or something, but he’s got lots of different skills and helps us out from time to time. He’s like hundreds of years old too…at least according to Kiku he is.”
Why does he help us against Ivan?
Alfred shrugged and took his hands away, shoving them deep into his pockets and kicking the ground every now and then as they started to make their way back to Ludwig’s inn. “Don’t know…I guess for the same reason anyone else would. Yao doesn’t talk about why he wants Braginski to be caught, and it sure doesn’t seem like he’s had any of his abilities stolen away…so maybe Braginski stole something else from him.”
Like a person?
“Maybe…that’s what I think. But who knows…the guy is way too secretive and Kiku’s no help either. All I know is that he wants to help us or others like us find Braginski and take back what he stole and that’s good enough for me.”
Alfred smiled brightly and convincingly but Arthur couldn’t help thinking how foolish that line of thought was; this Yao could very well be a horrible person or have some other ulterior motive that was unsavory…wanting Ivan to give back what he stole hardly qualified him as a good person. Still, the fairies had called him ‘elder’ with respect…he supposed it was safe to assume that Yao wasn’t secretly working with Ivan or some other such nonsense. Alfred whistled lightly as the sun continued downward, painting the city in a soft glow, and Arthur sighed noiselessly; he wasn’t going to learn anymore about Yao this night…anything else would require him to speak with the merchant directly.
Still…how had Yao known him? And what was that whole ‘siren’ business? Arthur kept his thoughts occupied the rest of the walk back, not commenting on any of the inane babble coming from Alfred beyond nodding his head every now and then, with these questions, wondering what purpose calling him such a name meant. He knew the legends of Sirens (he had owned quite a few books on the subject actually), knew what they were famous for and knew that they didn’t just exist to lure sailors to their doom. He also knew that they weren’t human so calling him one seemed silly since he was very much human…which left his ‘voice’ as the reason.
He had never tested what his ‘voice’ could really do back in Britannia. It was dangerous, his parents had told him, and then later it could ruin them his brothers had said…and he could concede the point as there wasn’t much sense in practicing an ability that could get him burned at the stake. But now…now he was wondering about what it could really do? Yes, he made inanimate object move and do what he wished and yes, he could make his brothers stop acting like idiots…but was that really what he had been doing? He had, essentially, been influencing behavior and actions simply because a tick in his voice compelled the listener to do so…and what about how he created that beacon in the Nords when Ivan had been attacking? He had created that without real conscious thought as to what he wanted; he just knew he needed to be found…that Alfred had needed for them to be found.
“Hey…what ya thinking about?” You went awful quiet…well more than-I mean, you know what I mean,” Alfred fumbled. Arthur blinked up and looked into the concerned blue eyes before he dragged his eyes away, shaking his head to indicate nothing was wrong (if there was any advantage to not being able to speak, it was how he could avoid conversation he did not wish to participate in). He heard Alfred huff disbelievingly but the boy didn’t pursue the subject further.
Whatever his gift could or couldn’t do wasn’t really what Arthur should be focusing on, he thought to himself in the ensuing silence. No, what he should be focusing on is getting his ability to speak back…he could worry about the rest later and it wouldn’t do him, or anyone else, any good in worrying about what his ‘gift’ really was when he had more important things to concern himself with. Like the odd, little pendant the fairies had given him and the somewhat hasty promise he’d struck with them-yes that was definitely something he could work out at the present time and was probably a lot less complicated than trying to analyze his own, ever-confusing vocal tick.
Dusk had settled by the time they reached Ludwig’s inn, but the noise and lights coming from inside certainly made up for the lack of sunlight or street lamps; Arthur cringed internally as he heard very drunken voice singing the closer he got. Alfred glanced at him and chuckled lightly, reaching up and fiddling with his glasses a bit before he took them off and wiped them clean. The young man didn’t need to say anything…Arthur knew that the moment he stepped into that inn that he was going to be greeted by the very dunk crew of the Evangeline (with perhaps the exception of Lily and Kiku of course) and there wasn’t really anything to be done about it except to accept it.
Alfred went in first and his name was boomed from the crew and other patrons, obvious regulars for Ludwig who were familiar enough with the Evangeline crew to be that drunk around them, and Arthur slipped in after, trying discreetly to stay out of sight. If there was something he hated most about not being able to speak was being surrounded by drunken idiots who did nothing but speak and always asked him questions. Alfred gave him a small, sacrificing smile and a shooing motion, indicating that Arthur should head up while he still could, but Arthur only made it as far as the stairs before Francis wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him back. Alfred shrugged apologetically before he was grabbed by Seychelles and ordered to help her in a drinking contest; Arthur’s glare promised very painful death.
“Now, now, mon ami, I think it is time you shared a drink with us! No sneaking away tonight!” Francis was obviously quite imbibed already if he seriously thought that Arthur wanted to have a drink with the lecherous man, but he was already forced in a chair and had a tankard shoved under his face so there wasn’t much help for it. Gilbert was cackling from beside a tall, tan and smiling man whom Arthur did not recognize, his red eyes showing he was already well past drunk, bumping into the dark-haired man every now and then as he swayed on his seat. Francis chuckled and waved Arthur towards the tankard before he took a hearty gulp of his champagne (which Arthur inwardly sneered at…they were in a bar for goodness sake! You drank beer in a bar…) - Arthur sighed silently and took a gulp of his own.
“There ya go! Time to have some fun…is’not like you have any!” Arthur glared at Gilbert’s slurred words, and glanced around for Alfred or perhaps Kiku…someone who he could make an excuse for as to why he needed to bugger off. “Artie, Artie, this here is Toni! We found ‘im today when you were on your ‘date’ with Hero, over there!”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Antonio began while Arthur flushed and glared even deeper at Gilbert. “I’ve heard of your misfortune…it must be hard, not having a voice.”
Arthur scribbled a vulgar insult at Gilbert (emphasizing it was certainly NOT a date) before glaring menacingly at Antonio; words or no, he could still display his displeasure well enough. Antonio’s easy smile slid off his face and he took a hurried gulp of his beer, Francis chuckling louder under his breath before he swung off his seat and swept an annoyed Esther into his arms. Esther was, understandably to Arthur, not pleased and swung her elbow into Francis gut, leaving Gilbert to stumble over and drunkenly laugh while he helped a prostrate Francis to his feet. Arthur looked around, his eyes catching on Alfred has he and Seychelles went shot-for-shot with a burly set of men, before he shook his head and took another gulp of beer.
“So, how are liking it on the Evangeline? Different from Britannia, yes?” Arthur turned back to the cheerful Antonio, who was looking at him with slightly bleary but still lucid eyes. He was very tan, speaking of many years spent in the sun, and had an overall pleasant demeanor…Arthur wondered for a moment if he’d had anything stolen from him or if he simply joined Alfred’s group for Francis. He remembered someone on the ship say that he’d been close with the seer prior to having his Sight…but he had stayed behind because he’d fallen for a damaged young man who now could only remember him. It was sad when he thought about it…sad for Ludwig too.
It’s fine. Arthur wrote succinctly…he had spent most of the day writing down his words, he didn’t want his hand to cramp up the next morning. Antonio nodded and hummed before he downed the rest of his beer, smiling brightly and grabbing a small, young man around the waist who was stomping by. Arthur noticed that the young man, apart from having a furious scowl and dark brown hair, looked very similar to Feliciano, hair curl and all - Romano Vargas swore violently and knocked away Antonio with a few punches and kicks. Arthur watched in fascination as Antonio simply smiled wider, his face a spitting image of a love struck fool.
“Love, my little Palermo*, don’t be like that! How are you doing? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Tired…you look tired, come let me sing you a lullaby!”
“You touch me and I’ll cut something off you’ll miss in the morning, stupid tomato-bastard!” Well, Romano Vargas was much more lucid than his twin, that was for sure…where Feliciano had been all sunshine a roses (or pasta as it were), Romano was spitfire and brimstone. Arthur cocked his head and narrowed his eyes a bit…one could almost imagine smoke coming from between clenched teeth not unlike an angry dragon; he was inclined to believe Gilbert’s claim that this Antonio was a bit of a masochist to chase after this little hellion. “Who are you?”
“This is Arthur, mi hermoso*. He has recently joined Alfred, you remember Alfred, the tall obnoxious one with the glasses; they are hunting down Ivan…this man has had his voice stolen because it had great power.” Arthur shot an annoyed look at the exaggerated way the man spoke…Romano glared deeper before he hit Antonio again and stomped off, swearing loudly before he vanished behind a door to the back room with a slam. Arthur arched his eyebrows at Antonio, who didn’t look all that put off by the less-than-pleasant reaction, before he muttered silently and drained the rest of his beer…funny how he was already finished.
“It is good for my Lovi, Arthur, for me to antagonize him like that,” Antonio’s words drifted up. Arthur turned his attention back to the sun-kissed man, shrugging his shoulders in the half-hearted agreement of a man who’d possibly downed his tankard a little too quickly. It really wasn’t fair…as often as he was around his brothers’ taverns, he ought to have more of tolerance for alcohol…Arthur glared at Alfred who still looked annoyingly perky after a stack of shots. “No, really! He remembers people better if they annoy him…it helps jog his memory and the more he remembers, the better.”
“Another round here! And what the hell are you doing, you Españaird? Barmaid, this man needs a drink now!” Gilbert glanced at Arthur before he shouted again. “Two for the mopey one, he could use it!”
Gilbert roared his happiness around the bar, most of the crew (minus Kiku who never raised his voice), joining with him and Arthur blinked resignedly at the large tankards plopped in front of him again. Oh well…wasn’t like there was much else for him to be doing that night anyway…the pendant could wait until the morning.
*****
Arthur, once again, in a disturbingly familiar pattern, awoke with a headache and a vile taste in his mouth.
He blinked blearily for a moment, adjusting his eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings (feeling brief alarm that he was not in his cabin on the ship), when he remembered the previous night and the probably ill-advised number of beers he’d indulged in. He groaned soundlessly and flopped his head back on his pillow, wrinkling his nose at the slight drool stain he spotted. He would have fallen back asleep and tried to sleep off the horrible hangover he could feel brewing, but right at the moment he let his eyes droop, a he felt a very warm, very real arm smack the space next to him, grazing his bare arm. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself upright, swimming head be damned, and stared, in slight horror, at the sleeping form of Alfred.
Arthur could do no more than blink for the next few moments, his eyes taking in the fact that Alfred was not wearing a tunic and the one he himself had on was a bit larger than necessary, before he shot out of the bed and landed on his rump on the floor. He was still wearing pants (always a good sign) and he could see the tops of Alfred’s breeches under the sheets so he was able to calm down slightly…but he was still wearing Alfred’s shirt so he couldn’t calm down that much. He gingerly stood up, trying to make as little noise as possible, and hurriedly wracked his mind over the events of the previous night…
He’d definitely had more than a few of those damn tankards…and he recalled fuzzily that at one point he’d torn off his tunic and joined Gilbert in a drunken jig…perhaps it was better to pretend he didn’t remember that. Arthur shook his head and stared back at the sleeping Alfred; he didn’t know how he’d ended up in this room or how Alfred had either…he glanced down at the slightly-too-long sleeve of the shirt he was wearing for a moment before looking back at Alfred. He felt something warm pool in his stomach, something like what he felt in the Crow’s Nest, as he looked at the young man sleeping peacefully, if a bit sprawled out, looking much younger in slumber, much more like the barely grown boy he was.
He groaned and got to his feet, slipping on his boots and grabbing his tablet (inconspicuously placed near his door…looking at it he also recalled someone, Francis most likely, cat-calling Alfred that consensual sex was best and to let Arthur say his peace…he would also pretend like he didn’t remember that either) and quill on the way out of the room. This was all becoming much too complicated for his tastes…all this blushing and swooping stomach aches and warm skin that felt entirely too comfortable when he woke up. It was a bother and left him feeling strangely aching whenever he walked away…
He walked softly down the hall of what had to be the second floor of Ludwig’s inn, thankful that even his breathing was silent since the whole building had the feel of nursing a hangover. Walking down the stairs, he could see a passed out Gilbert on top of one of the tables, an entirely unhealthy number of empty beer mugs surrounding him and Ludwig cleaning the counters. Feliciano was sitting beside him on a stool, singing softly and playing a game with his fingers on the counter as Ludwig worked. He still had a headache, but waking up next to a shirtless Alfred beside him had certainly shocked most of the haziness out of his system and he spared a polite nod for Ludwig when the tall man noticed him; Arthur waved awkwardly at a beaming Feliciano, not entirely sure how to act around the addled man.
“You’re up much earlier than expected,” Ludwig commented. His face didn’t betray any amusement or condemnation, but Arthur suspected he saw a little of both in his haggard eyes; Arthur shrugged and took a seat on the opposite side of Ludwig, not next to Feliciano. “Do you need a tonic? Trying to match drinks with my brother was not your best decision of the night...”
Arthur nodded in agreement to poor judgment and wrote down the rest of his answer, trying not to look uncomfortable with how animated Feliciano became at the sight of the fiery orange letters. No tonic, thank you though. Is he all right?
Arthur pointed his quill at the obliterated Gilbert, smirking slightly at the exasperation practically leaking off the blond man’s face. “He’ll be fine…he always gets like this when he visits. Feli! Leave his quill alone, it’s not yours.”
Arthur turned quickly and tried to keep the grimace off his face at how the end of his feathered quill was damp…with saliva…wonderful. Feliciano had a vacant expression as Ludwig scolded him before he smiled and sat back down on his stool, twirling in his seat and humming senselessly. Ludwig shrugged apologetically before he went back to cleaning tankards.
“You’ll have to excuse him…all the excitement last night has him less focused than usual this morning. People are good for him…a mob of drunken idiots however, not so much.”
It’s fine…do you think you’re making and progress with him?
Ludwig shrugged noncommittally, glancing at Feliciano for a moment with a rare look of fondness. “Perhaps. I do not believe he will be well until he is restored with what was stolen…him nor Romano. Ivan has much to atone for…”
Arthur nodded shortly, his eyes focusing on Feliciano with a pang of pity, knowing that, as much as Antonio claimed that Romano remembered more the more he was annoyed (Arthur could remember that much of the night), Ludwig was most likely right. That energy they had each inherited was too much a part of them…in stealing it, Ivan took away an integral and necessary part of who they were; they could not live as normal without it. Arthur felt a selfish stab of gratefulness that he’d only lost his voice in his encounter with Ivan…looking at Feliciano and what he was now, remembering how lost and confused Romano had looked underneath all that anger, even thinking back on little Lily and how her childhood, her very life, had been stolen…
Perhaps he’d gotten off lucky in the grand scheme of things, even if being completely silent was a right pain in the arse.
Silent…Arthur inhaled sharply, but soundlessly so Ludwig did not notice, and dug his hand into the pockets of his pants, pulling out the smooth, metallic pendant and remembering what he wanted to do today. He glanced around once more, the only change in the quiet of the inn being that, apparently, Antonio had passed out under the table Gilbert was on and was now groaning about needing to find a bathroom. He tapped the counter a few times and flashed Ludwig a question.
Would the Market be open at this hour?
Ludwig arched his eyebrow at the question but he nodded nonetheless. “As it’s after midday, yes…the Market is always open, but you should not go alone. Alfred informed me that Ivan has already attempted to steal you away in the Nords. Spandow is quite a bit larger, and more dangerous at that for someone who is not familiar with the city.”
Arthur scowled and scribbled down angrily, I am not invalid; I can look after myself.
Ludwig stared for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of arguing internally, before he shrugged and nodded his head, sighing when Feliciano spit up on the freshly cleaned counters and began making drawings with his fingers, calling for Ludwig’s attention with a wide smile. Arthur slid off the stool and made his way back up the stairs, entering the room he’d shared with Alfred in silence and quickly changing into a set of his own clothing, glancing at the sleeping Alfred every now and then to make sure he was still asleep. He knew he probably should wait for at least someone to awaken and go with him, but he didn’t know who was still hung-over and asleep and who had already departed back to the ship, it being midday and all (he could not remember a time when he’d slept in so late…) and he did not want Alfred to come.
He sighed and shook his head as he tossed a light traveling cloak over his shoulders; he was perfectly capable of making a trip to the Market on his own. He grabbed his satchel once dressed and made his way out of the inn, nodding at Ludwig’s warning that if Alfred asked where Arthur went, he’d tell him; he rolled his eyes as he stepped out into the street of Spandow. Arthur kept his head down and tried to walk in the shade as much as possible to avoid the sunlight (his hangover did not appreciate the brightness) as he made his way back towards Market, remembering the way there with no issue. He walked for close to an hour before he arrived, relieved that Market seemed to be in an area that was perpetually shady (in both uses of the word he though amusedly) and out of the sun.
He walked around the different stalls, trying to spot if he could see the fairies’ stand again while he looked, but they were nowhere to be found…which slightly worried him if he was honest with himself. It suggested that they’d been there for him and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that; Arthur pushed the thought aside and returned to looking for the mysterious Yao’s medicinal stand. It was a bit difficult to find, as the stands and vendors seemed to have switched places overnight, but eventually he found the red and gold stand, waiting for a pair of old women to drift away before he stepped forward. Yao’s ageless eyes smiled at him as he approached, the man’s youthful and girlish face relaxing into a knowing and expectant look as Arthur approached.
“Hello there, siren. I was wondering if you’d wander back today; you left looking like you still had questions…not hard to imagine if you’re travelling with one like Alfred.” Yao motioned Arthur forward with a delicate hand, taking a seat on his stool and looking over at Arthur inquisitively, as if he was a particularly interesting problem that was waiting to e solved with the correct set of numbers or equations. Arthur didn’t much care for being examined but he came forward nonetheless, fishing for the metallic pendant and setting it down on the table. Yao looked at it for a moment while Arthur scribbled on his tablet, flashing his words to the merchant once finished.
Fairies gave this to me…they called you ‘Elder.’
Yao hummed after reading the words, but didn’t comment on the ‘elder’ part, instead simply taking the pendant in between his fingers and bringing it up to his tableside lamp, watching the light flash of the metallic surface, changing the colors between blue and bronze. Arthur stayed still for a few moments, let Yao look over the pendant before he scrawled down his next words. They traded it to me for a promise…and they said it could help me speak in a way.
“And let me guess, young Alfred could not see them and did not believe you.” Yao grinned at the nod and glare Arthur gave him as his answer. “That boy spends too much of his attention on things out of reach as opposed to things in front of him…but, I suppose he can be forgiven in this instance. Fairies are notoriously picky on how they allow to see them, even amongst those with magic.”
Magic?
Yao glanced back up at him and handed back the pendant. “I suppose you’re more used to calling it a talent or gift…but in the end, it’s just magic manifesting in some form. Does it make you uncomfortable, considering where you’re from?”
Arthur shook his head quickly, half believing his denial; magic wasn’t terrible it just…well, it certainly sounded much more exotic than having an odd vocal tick. So, the pendant…do you know anything about it?
“I know that whatever you promised to get this must have either been a high price or the fairies took a shine to you. I’m inclined to think they liked you and felt bad about falling victim to Ivan…they have no more reason to care for him than you do. It’s powerful, I can tell just by touching, practically vibrating with power…as for what it can do, I couldn’t hazard a guess. Did they tell you what it could be used for?”
Arthur nodded and related what they said in a set of short sentences. The tablet was definitely a useful tool, but it certainly didn’t help when he needed to say more than a sentence at a time. He told Yao the promise he made and what Maribel had told him the pendant could do, helping him to speak to one his ‘heart’ had words for or some other such nonsense, shrugging his shoulders once he was finished, rubbing his temples to try and ward off the headache he felt blooming. He gave Yao an unamused look as the merchant began to chuckle after he finished his story.
“Well, I can promise you that you certainly got off easy on your trade…usually fairies demand a first born child or something.” Yao grinned at the horrified look that crossed Arthur’s face before he waved his hands in front of him. “Kidding…but generally their deals are a bit harsher than what they gave you…after all, they gave you a promise you’re seeking to fulfill anyways, correct? To take back what Ivan as stolen and return the magic to where it belongs? Seems like they gave you a gift for free; it’s nice of them to be so generous.”
Arthur thought about Yao’s words a moment and supposed he was correct in the sense that he was sort of going about his promise as it was…but it still was slightly odd that the promise was focused on him being the one to give back the gifts, magic…whatever. He certainly wasn’t traveling alone or working alone in his goal so…why the focus on him? Yao cleared his throat, bringing Arthur’s attention back to the merchant who was still smiling in that irritatingly knowing fashion.
“If you want my opinion on how that gift works, I suggest wearing it. It’s a pendant after all…seems logical to assume that it will work only once it’s worn.” Arthur sighed silently and rolled his eyes at the answer, already fearing that to figure out how to use the pendant he’d just have to try it out…he had been hoping that Yao would have a better answer for him though. Why did they call you Elder Yao?
“Out of respect, I would think. Fey creatures are nothing if not ones to honor traditions and in the fairies’ eyes, I’m quite a bit older than they are.” Yao smiled and nodded at Arthur’s accepting expression…Yao looked as if he was barely out of his teenage years, but considering all that had happened in the past few months, he wasn’t surprised. Alfred had implied that Yao was powerful and older than he appeared…looking into the wise, ageless brown eyes, Arthur was inclined to agree. “Now, I think you should wander back the road you came, you look tired and Spandow is not a safe city for one who cannot yell out for help should one need it.”
Arthur nodded huffily (just because the words may be correct didn’t mean Arthur had to like them), flashing his thanks to the merchant briefly before he turned away from the stall. He walked a few steps before he stopped and scrawled another question, his curiosity getting the better of him. Why are you helping Alfred against Ivan?
Yao was quiet, so quiet that Arthur felt a twinge of regret in his question, but the merchant smiled gently after a time, locking eyes with Arthur. “My reasons are my own, Mr. Kirkland, and though I may find you a good enough man, I’m afraid it’s a bit too personal for sharing. Trust me though when I say I have my reasons for wishing to see Ivan stopped and you have nothing to fear from me. Now, go back and assure your young leader that you are well…he worries for you, you know.”
Arthur didn’t quite know how to respond so he simply nodded and turned away, leaving the sounds of the Market, Yao’s vague words, and his observations concerning Alfred behind him. As he walked back to the inn, he glanced down at the pendant still in his hands every so often, feeling a bit more reassured as to why he’d been given it, but still unsure how exactly it was meant to help him. Yao had certainly been a help, but he found he had more questions than answers after their discussion; Arthur sighed and stuffed the pendant away in his pants pocket, tucking the tablet and quill away in his satchel.
He was grateful his headache from waking earlier in the afternoon was beginning to ebb away as he approached Ludwig’s inn once more, and spotted Esther and Vash outside the inn as he made his way to the door. Esther spared him a slight despairing look, a look that clearly said he deserved what was coming to him; Vash simply yelled at him in a language Arthur didn’t recognize before he stomped off. Wonderful…he’d been gone for no more than a few hours and apparently that had been enough to work the crew up into a frenzy…and by crew he meant Alfred.
He pushed into the inn and was immediately met with calls of his name, questions of if he was all right, and more than a few grumbles (mostly from Gilbert who, despite no longer being passed out on a table, still looked quite drunk), waving off the questions and shooting the man he knew was the ringleader a dark look. Alfred had put down a tablet of paper on Ludwig’s counter and countered the dark look with one of his own, which made Arthur feel distinctly uncomfortable…especially when Alfred pushed through the throng of the crew and latched onto Arthur’s arm. Arthur squawked soundlessly and tried to pull away, but Alfred ignored his efforts, his grip steel and infused with the strength that was mostly stolen from him; he looked around, silently beseeching anyone to help him, but his plea was met with a mixture of annoyance and shrugs. Arthur wondered briefly, as he was being dragged up stairs, just how how worried Alfred had been…and no, that stupid feeling of warmth in his stomach was just a result from his hangover.
Alfred, rather rudely Arthur though, tossed Arthur into the room they’d both been sleeping in earlier, slamming the door and fixing a very serious, very upset look at the silent man, his breathing quick and uneven in his anger. Arthur watched Alfred from his spot against the wall for a moment, trying to judge if it was safe to try and reach for his tablet…he’d just explain about the pendant and Yao and surely Alfred would calm down and stop acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum. However, when Arthur rolled his eyes and opened his satchel, a hand shot out and pounded into the wall beside Arthur’s head, snapping Arthur’s face upwards immediately, surprise and maybe a bit of fear (surely not more than the surprise) painting his face for a moment before he slipped the satchel off and dropped it to the ground.
“Don’t…just, just don’t.” Alfred’s voice was low and gravelly, rough with emotion. Arthur watched the young man as he pushed his hand away and began to pace across the room; he stayed where he was, thinking Alfred looked not unlike a wild jungle beast before a flood of words tumbled out.
“What the hell were you thinking?! Going out alone when, when we’re all either still passed out or sleeping…Spandow is in Germania, Arthur, not Britiannia! People use their gifts here and…and you can’t even talk, what would you have done if you ran into a gang or something?!”
Arthur felt his surprise and initial fear melt away and he glared darkly, motioning to his bag at the ground with angry, pointed movements that if Alfred expected a goddamned answer how the hell was Arthur supposed to answer without his tablet? Alfred huffed and shook his head, stepping close again, into Arthur’s space; this time, Arthur didn’t shrink back from the taller man. “No, you just listen you stubborn, old man! You can’t just go out on your own in some city you only know anything about from your stupid maps! We’ve been traveling together for years and we never, never, go out by ourselves! And you…you can’t even say anything, how do you think you would’ve asked for help if you’d gotten lost or if some street gang thought they’d rob you?”
I’m not helpless! Arthur didn’t care that Alfred couldn’t read lips, couldn’t understand what he screamed back with his silent voice…he was angry and sick of being thought of as useless because of what happened with Ivan in the Nords. You don’t need a voice to defend yourself, you moronic child!
“And have you forgotten that Braginski is fucking looking for you?!” Alfred plowed ahead, not even minding that Arthur was yelling back soundless words of his own. Arthur grit his teeth and felt his face heat up in frustration, clenching his fists at his sides as Alfred flung back words in Arthur’s face that he already knew. A part of him knew Alfred was right, that even though he could defend himself and look after himself, he was suffering at a severe handicap because of his silence…but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was sick of having to rely on everyone else because what Ivan had stolen affected him so much. No one watched Gilbert like a hawk, or hovered over Francis…hell, Feliciano had more freedom than Arthur did lately. It was suffocating him and he…he had just wanted to do something one his own for once.
“What would you have done if he showed up and you were alone, Arthur? He would have-you would’ve been gone and I-I…”
As quickly as the anger had swept through Arthur, it was replaced by something else as Alfred’s voice chocked off, unable to finish what he wanted to tell Arthur, what he wanted to yell at him until he understood, what he was really angry about. Alfred’s hands wrapped around Arthur’s arms and he rested his forehead against the shorter man’s shoulder and Arthur could feel the young man’s shaking against him. Arthur stood still as a very blatant realization ripped through him, leaving him feeling foolish and hopelessly, deliriously relieved all at the same time. Alfred had been terrified Arthur would be taken, taken away from him, taken away and leaving Alfred unable to handle with what that meant to him. Because he…it all seemed so obvious now.
Arthur reached up and tilted Alfred’s face away from his shoulder, not bothering to try and remove the hands holding him against the wall, holding him still and where Alfred could be sure he was still there. Arthur tilted Alfred’s face until he could meet the stormy eyes with his own, wishing that he’d looked a bit closer over these past few weeks, wishing he hadn’t allowed himself and his own confusion over whatever happened between them in the Crow’s nest clouded what was so blindingly clear now. Oh well, no hope for it he supposed…and with that thought, Arthur did the one thing he could think of, the only thing he wanted to do to try and convey all his anger, all his reassurances, and his apology for worrying Alfred.
He brought Alfred’s face down, tilted his own upward and to the side and pressed their lips together.
TBC…
Next Chapter: osco-blue-fairy.livejournal.com/31889.html
*****
Hmm…I’m apparently a very naughty tease. That’s twice in a span of three chapters I’ve left you dangling for more. Well, I can promise you that next chapter I will stop my teasing ways, so look forward to that!
*Palermo =Dove in Spanish
** Mi hermoso = my beautiful one, roughly
Knowing the bounce had something to do with what the merchant Alfred visited, Yao, had said Arthur decided that if he wasn’t going to talk about fairies and their magic, he could talk about that…the fairies had called him Elder Yao, he remembered. Maybe he could revisit him and he’d believe that Arthur was speaking with fairies and could help with the pendant. He tapped Alfred’s shoulder as they left Market and headed back towards Ludwig’s inn, the sun beginning to wan in the sky. Who was that merchant? Did he know anything about Ivan?
Alfred smiled wide and nodded his head eagerly; Arthur firmly ignored the slight flip his stomach always seemed to make whenever Alfred smiled like that (he was still angry, he reminded himself, for Alfred teasing him about the fairies…had to remember that). “You bet your eyebrows he did! Yao told me that Braginski is sitting at home, pretty much licking his wounds after he got his ass kicked in the Nords!”
Arthur hardly thought Ivan got his ‘ass kicked’ by any means; in fact it was very much the reverse, but he supposed he could understand that he was defeated in the sense he didn’t get what he came for. He knows where Ivan’s stronghold is?
“I wish, but no…but he’s got ears all over that tell him that Braginski hasn’t been out of hiding, that he’s been sending his little ‘associates’ out for him. But that’s good because that means others aren’t being attacked and we have more of a chance of finding where his safehold is! It’s easier to find someone if they aren’t always moving around…”
Arthur nodded in distracted agreement (that kind of agreement that was made because there were more pressing things that needed to be done and it wasn’t worth the effort to disagree) before he tapped Alfred again and repeated his initial question. And the merchant?
Alfred gave Arthur a look before he chuckled lightly and brought them both to a stop, his hand resting warmly against Arthur’s shoulder. “I was getting to that, old man! Jeez, you’re so pushy sometimes.”
Arthur glared deeply and balled his hand with the quill into a fist, taking a threatening step toward the obnoxious young man; it did not help his mood that Alfred merely chuckled more and placed his other hand on Arthur’s remaining shoulder. “Ok, ok, I’m kidding! I met Yao through Kiku a few years ago…he’s like a shaman or something, but he’s got lots of different skills and helps us out from time to time. He’s like hundreds of years old too…at least according to Kiku he is.”
Why does he help us against Ivan?
Alfred shrugged and took his hands away, shoving them deep into his pockets and kicking the ground every now and then as they started to make their way back to Ludwig’s inn. “Don’t know…I guess for the same reason anyone else would. Yao doesn’t talk about why he wants Braginski to be caught, and it sure doesn’t seem like he’s had any of his abilities stolen away…so maybe Braginski stole something else from him.”
Like a person?
“Maybe…that’s what I think. But who knows…the guy is way too secretive and Kiku’s no help either. All I know is that he wants to help us or others like us find Braginski and take back what he stole and that’s good enough for me.”
Alfred smiled brightly and convincingly but Arthur couldn’t help thinking how foolish that line of thought was; this Yao could very well be a horrible person or have some other ulterior motive that was unsavory…wanting Ivan to give back what he stole hardly qualified him as a good person. Still, the fairies had called him ‘elder’ with respect…he supposed it was safe to assume that Yao wasn’t secretly working with Ivan or some other such nonsense. Alfred whistled lightly as the sun continued downward, painting the city in a soft glow, and Arthur sighed noiselessly; he wasn’t going to learn anymore about Yao this night…anything else would require him to speak with the merchant directly.
Still…how had Yao known him? And what was that whole ‘siren’ business? Arthur kept his thoughts occupied the rest of the walk back, not commenting on any of the inane babble coming from Alfred beyond nodding his head every now and then, with these questions, wondering what purpose calling him such a name meant. He knew the legends of Sirens (he had owned quite a few books on the subject actually), knew what they were famous for and knew that they didn’t just exist to lure sailors to their doom. He also knew that they weren’t human so calling him one seemed silly since he was very much human…which left his ‘voice’ as the reason.
He had never tested what his ‘voice’ could really do back in Britannia. It was dangerous, his parents had told him, and then later it could ruin them his brothers had said…and he could concede the point as there wasn’t much sense in practicing an ability that could get him burned at the stake. But now…now he was wondering about what it could really do? Yes, he made inanimate object move and do what he wished and yes, he could make his brothers stop acting like idiots…but was that really what he had been doing? He had, essentially, been influencing behavior and actions simply because a tick in his voice compelled the listener to do so…and what about how he created that beacon in the Nords when Ivan had been attacking? He had created that without real conscious thought as to what he wanted; he just knew he needed to be found…that Alfred had needed for them to be found.
“Hey…what ya thinking about?” You went awful quiet…well more than-I mean, you know what I mean,” Alfred fumbled. Arthur blinked up and looked into the concerned blue eyes before he dragged his eyes away, shaking his head to indicate nothing was wrong (if there was any advantage to not being able to speak, it was how he could avoid conversation he did not wish to participate in). He heard Alfred huff disbelievingly but the boy didn’t pursue the subject further.
Whatever his gift could or couldn’t do wasn’t really what Arthur should be focusing on, he thought to himself in the ensuing silence. No, what he should be focusing on is getting his ability to speak back…he could worry about the rest later and it wouldn’t do him, or anyone else, any good in worrying about what his ‘gift’ really was when he had more important things to concern himself with. Like the odd, little pendant the fairies had given him and the somewhat hasty promise he’d struck with them-yes that was definitely something he could work out at the present time and was probably a lot less complicated than trying to analyze his own, ever-confusing vocal tick.
Dusk had settled by the time they reached Ludwig’s inn, but the noise and lights coming from inside certainly made up for the lack of sunlight or street lamps; Arthur cringed internally as he heard very drunken voice singing the closer he got. Alfred glanced at him and chuckled lightly, reaching up and fiddling with his glasses a bit before he took them off and wiped them clean. The young man didn’t need to say anything…Arthur knew that the moment he stepped into that inn that he was going to be greeted by the very dunk crew of the Evangeline (with perhaps the exception of Lily and Kiku of course) and there wasn’t really anything to be done about it except to accept it.
Alfred went in first and his name was boomed from the crew and other patrons, obvious regulars for Ludwig who were familiar enough with the Evangeline crew to be that drunk around them, and Arthur slipped in after, trying discreetly to stay out of sight. If there was something he hated most about not being able to speak was being surrounded by drunken idiots who did nothing but speak and always asked him questions. Alfred gave him a small, sacrificing smile and a shooing motion, indicating that Arthur should head up while he still could, but Arthur only made it as far as the stairs before Francis wrapped an arm around his shoulders and dragged him back. Alfred shrugged apologetically before he was grabbed by Seychelles and ordered to help her in a drinking contest; Arthur’s glare promised very painful death.
“Now, now, mon ami, I think it is time you shared a drink with us! No sneaking away tonight!” Francis was obviously quite imbibed already if he seriously thought that Arthur wanted to have a drink with the lecherous man, but he was already forced in a chair and had a tankard shoved under his face so there wasn’t much help for it. Gilbert was cackling from beside a tall, tan and smiling man whom Arthur did not recognize, his red eyes showing he was already well past drunk, bumping into the dark-haired man every now and then as he swayed on his seat. Francis chuckled and waved Arthur towards the tankard before he took a hearty gulp of his champagne (which Arthur inwardly sneered at…they were in a bar for goodness sake! You drank beer in a bar…) - Arthur sighed silently and took a gulp of his own.
“There ya go! Time to have some fun…is’not like you have any!” Arthur glared at Gilbert’s slurred words, and glanced around for Alfred or perhaps Kiku…someone who he could make an excuse for as to why he needed to bugger off. “Artie, Artie, this here is Toni! We found ‘im today when you were on your ‘date’ with Hero, over there!”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Antonio began while Arthur flushed and glared even deeper at Gilbert. “I’ve heard of your misfortune…it must be hard, not having a voice.”
Arthur scribbled a vulgar insult at Gilbert (emphasizing it was certainly NOT a date) before glaring menacingly at Antonio; words or no, he could still display his displeasure well enough. Antonio’s easy smile slid off his face and he took a hurried gulp of his beer, Francis chuckling louder under his breath before he swung off his seat and swept an annoyed Esther into his arms. Esther was, understandably to Arthur, not pleased and swung her elbow into Francis gut, leaving Gilbert to stumble over and drunkenly laugh while he helped a prostrate Francis to his feet. Arthur looked around, his eyes catching on Alfred has he and Seychelles went shot-for-shot with a burly set of men, before he shook his head and took another gulp of beer.
“So, how are liking it on the Evangeline? Different from Britannia, yes?” Arthur turned back to the cheerful Antonio, who was looking at him with slightly bleary but still lucid eyes. He was very tan, speaking of many years spent in the sun, and had an overall pleasant demeanor…Arthur wondered for a moment if he’d had anything stolen from him or if he simply joined Alfred’s group for Francis. He remembered someone on the ship say that he’d been close with the seer prior to having his Sight…but he had stayed behind because he’d fallen for a damaged young man who now could only remember him. It was sad when he thought about it…sad for Ludwig too.
It’s fine. Arthur wrote succinctly…he had spent most of the day writing down his words, he didn’t want his hand to cramp up the next morning. Antonio nodded and hummed before he downed the rest of his beer, smiling brightly and grabbing a small, young man around the waist who was stomping by. Arthur noticed that the young man, apart from having a furious scowl and dark brown hair, looked very similar to Feliciano, hair curl and all - Romano Vargas swore violently and knocked away Antonio with a few punches and kicks. Arthur watched in fascination as Antonio simply smiled wider, his face a spitting image of a love struck fool.
“Love, my little Palermo*, don’t be like that! How are you doing? Are you hungry? Thirsty? Tired…you look tired, come let me sing you a lullaby!”
“You touch me and I’ll cut something off you’ll miss in the morning, stupid tomato-bastard!” Well, Romano Vargas was much more lucid than his twin, that was for sure…where Feliciano had been all sunshine a roses (or pasta as it were), Romano was spitfire and brimstone. Arthur cocked his head and narrowed his eyes a bit…one could almost imagine smoke coming from between clenched teeth not unlike an angry dragon; he was inclined to believe Gilbert’s claim that this Antonio was a bit of a masochist to chase after this little hellion. “Who are you?”
“This is Arthur, mi hermoso*. He has recently joined Alfred, you remember Alfred, the tall obnoxious one with the glasses; they are hunting down Ivan…this man has had his voice stolen because it had great power.” Arthur shot an annoyed look at the exaggerated way the man spoke…Romano glared deeper before he hit Antonio again and stomped off, swearing loudly before he vanished behind a door to the back room with a slam. Arthur arched his eyebrows at Antonio, who didn’t look all that put off by the less-than-pleasant reaction, before he muttered silently and drained the rest of his beer…funny how he was already finished.
“It is good for my Lovi, Arthur, for me to antagonize him like that,” Antonio’s words drifted up. Arthur turned his attention back to the sun-kissed man, shrugging his shoulders in the half-hearted agreement of a man who’d possibly downed his tankard a little too quickly. It really wasn’t fair…as often as he was around his brothers’ taverns, he ought to have more of tolerance for alcohol…Arthur glared at Alfred who still looked annoyingly perky after a stack of shots. “No, really! He remembers people better if they annoy him…it helps jog his memory and the more he remembers, the better.”
“Another round here! And what the hell are you doing, you Españaird? Barmaid, this man needs a drink now!” Gilbert glanced at Arthur before he shouted again. “Two for the mopey one, he could use it!”
Gilbert roared his happiness around the bar, most of the crew (minus Kiku who never raised his voice), joining with him and Arthur blinked resignedly at the large tankards plopped in front of him again. Oh well…wasn’t like there was much else for him to be doing that night anyway…the pendant could wait until the morning.
*****
Arthur, once again, in a disturbingly familiar pattern, awoke with a headache and a vile taste in his mouth.
He blinked blearily for a moment, adjusting his eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings (feeling brief alarm that he was not in his cabin on the ship), when he remembered the previous night and the probably ill-advised number of beers he’d indulged in. He groaned soundlessly and flopped his head back on his pillow, wrinkling his nose at the slight drool stain he spotted. He would have fallen back asleep and tried to sleep off the horrible hangover he could feel brewing, but right at the moment he let his eyes droop, a he felt a very warm, very real arm smack the space next to him, grazing his bare arm. His eyes shot open and he pushed himself upright, swimming head be damned, and stared, in slight horror, at the sleeping form of Alfred.
Arthur could do no more than blink for the next few moments, his eyes taking in the fact that Alfred was not wearing a tunic and the one he himself had on was a bit larger than necessary, before he shot out of the bed and landed on his rump on the floor. He was still wearing pants (always a good sign) and he could see the tops of Alfred’s breeches under the sheets so he was able to calm down slightly…but he was still wearing Alfred’s shirt so he couldn’t calm down that much. He gingerly stood up, trying to make as little noise as possible, and hurriedly wracked his mind over the events of the previous night…
He’d definitely had more than a few of those damn tankards…and he recalled fuzzily that at one point he’d torn off his tunic and joined Gilbert in a drunken jig…perhaps it was better to pretend he didn’t remember that. Arthur shook his head and stared back at the sleeping Alfred; he didn’t know how he’d ended up in this room or how Alfred had either…he glanced down at the slightly-too-long sleeve of the shirt he was wearing for a moment before looking back at Alfred. He felt something warm pool in his stomach, something like what he felt in the Crow’s Nest, as he looked at the young man sleeping peacefully, if a bit sprawled out, looking much younger in slumber, much more like the barely grown boy he was.
He groaned and got to his feet, slipping on his boots and grabbing his tablet (inconspicuously placed near his door…looking at it he also recalled someone, Francis most likely, cat-calling Alfred that consensual sex was best and to let Arthur say his peace…he would also pretend like he didn’t remember that either) and quill on the way out of the room. This was all becoming much too complicated for his tastes…all this blushing and swooping stomach aches and warm skin that felt entirely too comfortable when he woke up. It was a bother and left him feeling strangely aching whenever he walked away…
He walked softly down the hall of what had to be the second floor of Ludwig’s inn, thankful that even his breathing was silent since the whole building had the feel of nursing a hangover. Walking down the stairs, he could see a passed out Gilbert on top of one of the tables, an entirely unhealthy number of empty beer mugs surrounding him and Ludwig cleaning the counters. Feliciano was sitting beside him on a stool, singing softly and playing a game with his fingers on the counter as Ludwig worked. He still had a headache, but waking up next to a shirtless Alfred beside him had certainly shocked most of the haziness out of his system and he spared a polite nod for Ludwig when the tall man noticed him; Arthur waved awkwardly at a beaming Feliciano, not entirely sure how to act around the addled man.
“You’re up much earlier than expected,” Ludwig commented. His face didn’t betray any amusement or condemnation, but Arthur suspected he saw a little of both in his haggard eyes; Arthur shrugged and took a seat on the opposite side of Ludwig, not next to Feliciano. “Do you need a tonic? Trying to match drinks with my brother was not your best decision of the night...”
Arthur nodded in agreement to poor judgment and wrote down the rest of his answer, trying not to look uncomfortable with how animated Feliciano became at the sight of the fiery orange letters. No tonic, thank you though. Is he all right?
Arthur pointed his quill at the obliterated Gilbert, smirking slightly at the exasperation practically leaking off the blond man’s face. “He’ll be fine…he always gets like this when he visits. Feli! Leave his quill alone, it’s not yours.”
Arthur turned quickly and tried to keep the grimace off his face at how the end of his feathered quill was damp…with saliva…wonderful. Feliciano had a vacant expression as Ludwig scolded him before he smiled and sat back down on his stool, twirling in his seat and humming senselessly. Ludwig shrugged apologetically before he went back to cleaning tankards.
“You’ll have to excuse him…all the excitement last night has him less focused than usual this morning. People are good for him…a mob of drunken idiots however, not so much.”
It’s fine…do you think you’re making and progress with him?
Ludwig shrugged noncommittally, glancing at Feliciano for a moment with a rare look of fondness. “Perhaps. I do not believe he will be well until he is restored with what was stolen…him nor Romano. Ivan has much to atone for…”
Arthur nodded shortly, his eyes focusing on Feliciano with a pang of pity, knowing that, as much as Antonio claimed that Romano remembered more the more he was annoyed (Arthur could remember that much of the night), Ludwig was most likely right. That energy they had each inherited was too much a part of them…in stealing it, Ivan took away an integral and necessary part of who they were; they could not live as normal without it. Arthur felt a selfish stab of gratefulness that he’d only lost his voice in his encounter with Ivan…looking at Feliciano and what he was now, remembering how lost and confused Romano had looked underneath all that anger, even thinking back on little Lily and how her childhood, her very life, had been stolen…
Perhaps he’d gotten off lucky in the grand scheme of things, even if being completely silent was a right pain in the arse.
Silent…Arthur inhaled sharply, but soundlessly so Ludwig did not notice, and dug his hand into the pockets of his pants, pulling out the smooth, metallic pendant and remembering what he wanted to do today. He glanced around once more, the only change in the quiet of the inn being that, apparently, Antonio had passed out under the table Gilbert was on and was now groaning about needing to find a bathroom. He tapped the counter a few times and flashed Ludwig a question.
Would the Market be open at this hour?
Ludwig arched his eyebrow at the question but he nodded nonetheless. “As it’s after midday, yes…the Market is always open, but you should not go alone. Alfred informed me that Ivan has already attempted to steal you away in the Nords. Spandow is quite a bit larger, and more dangerous at that for someone who is not familiar with the city.”
Arthur scowled and scribbled down angrily, I am not invalid; I can look after myself.
Ludwig stared for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of arguing internally, before he shrugged and nodded his head, sighing when Feliciano spit up on the freshly cleaned counters and began making drawings with his fingers, calling for Ludwig’s attention with a wide smile. Arthur slid off the stool and made his way back up the stairs, entering the room he’d shared with Alfred in silence and quickly changing into a set of his own clothing, glancing at the sleeping Alfred every now and then to make sure he was still asleep. He knew he probably should wait for at least someone to awaken and go with him, but he didn’t know who was still hung-over and asleep and who had already departed back to the ship, it being midday and all (he could not remember a time when he’d slept in so late…) and he did not want Alfred to come.
He sighed and shook his head as he tossed a light traveling cloak over his shoulders; he was perfectly capable of making a trip to the Market on his own. He grabbed his satchel once dressed and made his way out of the inn, nodding at Ludwig’s warning that if Alfred asked where Arthur went, he’d tell him; he rolled his eyes as he stepped out into the street of Spandow. Arthur kept his head down and tried to walk in the shade as much as possible to avoid the sunlight (his hangover did not appreciate the brightness) as he made his way back towards Market, remembering the way there with no issue. He walked for close to an hour before he arrived, relieved that Market seemed to be in an area that was perpetually shady (in both uses of the word he though amusedly) and out of the sun.
He walked around the different stalls, trying to spot if he could see the fairies’ stand again while he looked, but they were nowhere to be found…which slightly worried him if he was honest with himself. It suggested that they’d been there for him and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that; Arthur pushed the thought aside and returned to looking for the mysterious Yao’s medicinal stand. It was a bit difficult to find, as the stands and vendors seemed to have switched places overnight, but eventually he found the red and gold stand, waiting for a pair of old women to drift away before he stepped forward. Yao’s ageless eyes smiled at him as he approached, the man’s youthful and girlish face relaxing into a knowing and expectant look as Arthur approached.
“Hello there, siren. I was wondering if you’d wander back today; you left looking like you still had questions…not hard to imagine if you’re travelling with one like Alfred.” Yao motioned Arthur forward with a delicate hand, taking a seat on his stool and looking over at Arthur inquisitively, as if he was a particularly interesting problem that was waiting to e solved with the correct set of numbers or equations. Arthur didn’t much care for being examined but he came forward nonetheless, fishing for the metallic pendant and setting it down on the table. Yao looked at it for a moment while Arthur scribbled on his tablet, flashing his words to the merchant once finished.
Fairies gave this to me…they called you ‘Elder.’
Yao hummed after reading the words, but didn’t comment on the ‘elder’ part, instead simply taking the pendant in between his fingers and bringing it up to his tableside lamp, watching the light flash of the metallic surface, changing the colors between blue and bronze. Arthur stayed still for a few moments, let Yao look over the pendant before he scrawled down his next words. They traded it to me for a promise…and they said it could help me speak in a way.
“And let me guess, young Alfred could not see them and did not believe you.” Yao grinned at the nod and glare Arthur gave him as his answer. “That boy spends too much of his attention on things out of reach as opposed to things in front of him…but, I suppose he can be forgiven in this instance. Fairies are notoriously picky on how they allow to see them, even amongst those with magic.”
Magic?
Yao glanced back up at him and handed back the pendant. “I suppose you’re more used to calling it a talent or gift…but in the end, it’s just magic manifesting in some form. Does it make you uncomfortable, considering where you’re from?”
Arthur shook his head quickly, half believing his denial; magic wasn’t terrible it just…well, it certainly sounded much more exotic than having an odd vocal tick. So, the pendant…do you know anything about it?
“I know that whatever you promised to get this must have either been a high price or the fairies took a shine to you. I’m inclined to think they liked you and felt bad about falling victim to Ivan…they have no more reason to care for him than you do. It’s powerful, I can tell just by touching, practically vibrating with power…as for what it can do, I couldn’t hazard a guess. Did they tell you what it could be used for?”
Arthur nodded and related what they said in a set of short sentences. The tablet was definitely a useful tool, but it certainly didn’t help when he needed to say more than a sentence at a time. He told Yao the promise he made and what Maribel had told him the pendant could do, helping him to speak to one his ‘heart’ had words for or some other such nonsense, shrugging his shoulders once he was finished, rubbing his temples to try and ward off the headache he felt blooming. He gave Yao an unamused look as the merchant began to chuckle after he finished his story.
“Well, I can promise you that you certainly got off easy on your trade…usually fairies demand a first born child or something.” Yao grinned at the horrified look that crossed Arthur’s face before he waved his hands in front of him. “Kidding…but generally their deals are a bit harsher than what they gave you…after all, they gave you a promise you’re seeking to fulfill anyways, correct? To take back what Ivan as stolen and return the magic to where it belongs? Seems like they gave you a gift for free; it’s nice of them to be so generous.”
Arthur thought about Yao’s words a moment and supposed he was correct in the sense that he was sort of going about his promise as it was…but it still was slightly odd that the promise was focused on him being the one to give back the gifts, magic…whatever. He certainly wasn’t traveling alone or working alone in his goal so…why the focus on him? Yao cleared his throat, bringing Arthur’s attention back to the merchant who was still smiling in that irritatingly knowing fashion.
“If you want my opinion on how that gift works, I suggest wearing it. It’s a pendant after all…seems logical to assume that it will work only once it’s worn.” Arthur sighed silently and rolled his eyes at the answer, already fearing that to figure out how to use the pendant he’d just have to try it out…he had been hoping that Yao would have a better answer for him though. Why did they call you Elder Yao?
“Out of respect, I would think. Fey creatures are nothing if not ones to honor traditions and in the fairies’ eyes, I’m quite a bit older than they are.” Yao smiled and nodded at Arthur’s accepting expression…Yao looked as if he was barely out of his teenage years, but considering all that had happened in the past few months, he wasn’t surprised. Alfred had implied that Yao was powerful and older than he appeared…looking into the wise, ageless brown eyes, Arthur was inclined to agree. “Now, I think you should wander back the road you came, you look tired and Spandow is not a safe city for one who cannot yell out for help should one need it.”
Arthur nodded huffily (just because the words may be correct didn’t mean Arthur had to like them), flashing his thanks to the merchant briefly before he turned away from the stall. He walked a few steps before he stopped and scrawled another question, his curiosity getting the better of him. Why are you helping Alfred against Ivan?
Yao was quiet, so quiet that Arthur felt a twinge of regret in his question, but the merchant smiled gently after a time, locking eyes with Arthur. “My reasons are my own, Mr. Kirkland, and though I may find you a good enough man, I’m afraid it’s a bit too personal for sharing. Trust me though when I say I have my reasons for wishing to see Ivan stopped and you have nothing to fear from me. Now, go back and assure your young leader that you are well…he worries for you, you know.”
Arthur didn’t quite know how to respond so he simply nodded and turned away, leaving the sounds of the Market, Yao’s vague words, and his observations concerning Alfred behind him. As he walked back to the inn, he glanced down at the pendant still in his hands every so often, feeling a bit more reassured as to why he’d been given it, but still unsure how exactly it was meant to help him. Yao had certainly been a help, but he found he had more questions than answers after their discussion; Arthur sighed and stuffed the pendant away in his pants pocket, tucking the tablet and quill away in his satchel.
He was grateful his headache from waking earlier in the afternoon was beginning to ebb away as he approached Ludwig’s inn once more, and spotted Esther and Vash outside the inn as he made his way to the door. Esther spared him a slight despairing look, a look that clearly said he deserved what was coming to him; Vash simply yelled at him in a language Arthur didn’t recognize before he stomped off. Wonderful…he’d been gone for no more than a few hours and apparently that had been enough to work the crew up into a frenzy…and by crew he meant Alfred.
He pushed into the inn and was immediately met with calls of his name, questions of if he was all right, and more than a few grumbles (mostly from Gilbert who, despite no longer being passed out on a table, still looked quite drunk), waving off the questions and shooting the man he knew was the ringleader a dark look. Alfred had put down a tablet of paper on Ludwig’s counter and countered the dark look with one of his own, which made Arthur feel distinctly uncomfortable…especially when Alfred pushed through the throng of the crew and latched onto Arthur’s arm. Arthur squawked soundlessly and tried to pull away, but Alfred ignored his efforts, his grip steel and infused with the strength that was mostly stolen from him; he looked around, silently beseeching anyone to help him, but his plea was met with a mixture of annoyance and shrugs. Arthur wondered briefly, as he was being dragged up stairs, just how how worried Alfred had been…and no, that stupid feeling of warmth in his stomach was just a result from his hangover.
Alfred, rather rudely Arthur though, tossed Arthur into the room they’d both been sleeping in earlier, slamming the door and fixing a very serious, very upset look at the silent man, his breathing quick and uneven in his anger. Arthur watched Alfred from his spot against the wall for a moment, trying to judge if it was safe to try and reach for his tablet…he’d just explain about the pendant and Yao and surely Alfred would calm down and stop acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum. However, when Arthur rolled his eyes and opened his satchel, a hand shot out and pounded into the wall beside Arthur’s head, snapping Arthur’s face upwards immediately, surprise and maybe a bit of fear (surely not more than the surprise) painting his face for a moment before he slipped the satchel off and dropped it to the ground.
“Don’t…just, just don’t.” Alfred’s voice was low and gravelly, rough with emotion. Arthur watched the young man as he pushed his hand away and began to pace across the room; he stayed where he was, thinking Alfred looked not unlike a wild jungle beast before a flood of words tumbled out.
“What the hell were you thinking?! Going out alone when, when we’re all either still passed out or sleeping…Spandow is in Germania, Arthur, not Britiannia! People use their gifts here and…and you can’t even talk, what would you have done if you ran into a gang or something?!”
Arthur felt his surprise and initial fear melt away and he glared darkly, motioning to his bag at the ground with angry, pointed movements that if Alfred expected a goddamned answer how the hell was Arthur supposed to answer without his tablet? Alfred huffed and shook his head, stepping close again, into Arthur’s space; this time, Arthur didn’t shrink back from the taller man. “No, you just listen you stubborn, old man! You can’t just go out on your own in some city you only know anything about from your stupid maps! We’ve been traveling together for years and we never, never, go out by ourselves! And you…you can’t even say anything, how do you think you would’ve asked for help if you’d gotten lost or if some street gang thought they’d rob you?”
I’m not helpless! Arthur didn’t care that Alfred couldn’t read lips, couldn’t understand what he screamed back with his silent voice…he was angry and sick of being thought of as useless because of what happened with Ivan in the Nords. You don’t need a voice to defend yourself, you moronic child!
“And have you forgotten that Braginski is fucking looking for you?!” Alfred plowed ahead, not even minding that Arthur was yelling back soundless words of his own. Arthur grit his teeth and felt his face heat up in frustration, clenching his fists at his sides as Alfred flung back words in Arthur’s face that he already knew. A part of him knew Alfred was right, that even though he could defend himself and look after himself, he was suffering at a severe handicap because of his silence…but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he was sick of having to rely on everyone else because what Ivan had stolen affected him so much. No one watched Gilbert like a hawk, or hovered over Francis…hell, Feliciano had more freedom than Arthur did lately. It was suffocating him and he…he had just wanted to do something one his own for once.
“What would you have done if he showed up and you were alone, Arthur? He would have-you would’ve been gone and I-I…”
As quickly as the anger had swept through Arthur, it was replaced by something else as Alfred’s voice chocked off, unable to finish what he wanted to tell Arthur, what he wanted to yell at him until he understood, what he was really angry about. Alfred’s hands wrapped around Arthur’s arms and he rested his forehead against the shorter man’s shoulder and Arthur could feel the young man’s shaking against him. Arthur stood still as a very blatant realization ripped through him, leaving him feeling foolish and hopelessly, deliriously relieved all at the same time. Alfred had been terrified Arthur would be taken, taken away from him, taken away and leaving Alfred unable to handle with what that meant to him. Because he…it all seemed so obvious now.
Arthur reached up and tilted Alfred’s face away from his shoulder, not bothering to try and remove the hands holding him against the wall, holding him still and where Alfred could be sure he was still there. Arthur tilted Alfred’s face until he could meet the stormy eyes with his own, wishing that he’d looked a bit closer over these past few weeks, wishing he hadn’t allowed himself and his own confusion over whatever happened between them in the Crow’s nest clouded what was so blindingly clear now. Oh well, no hope for it he supposed…and with that thought, Arthur did the one thing he could think of, the only thing he wanted to do to try and convey all his anger, all his reassurances, and his apology for worrying Alfred.
He brought Alfred’s face down, tilted his own upward and to the side and pressed their lips together.
TBC…
Next Chapter: osco-blue-fairy.livejournal.com/31889.html
*****
Hmm…I’m apparently a very naughty tease. That’s twice in a span of three chapters I’ve left you dangling for more. Well, I can promise you that next chapter I will stop my teasing ways, so look forward to that!
*Palermo =Dove in Spanish
** Mi hermoso = my beautiful one, roughly