[Fanfic] Those Icy Fingers Up and Down my Spine
Title: Those Icy Fingers Up and Down my Spine
Author: shinju90
Summary: AU Arthur and Gilbert have been together for years now, but every now and then they run across things that still surprise them.
Rating: T
Pairing: PrUK
Warnings: Human names, fluff, and some silly moments.
A/N: De-anon from the kink meme. Direct cross post, not beta'd. The OP requested a sequel and I still have some ideas swimming around in my head so I decided to make it a trilogy.
“Damn it Gilbert! Please stop trying to toss extra ingredients into the pot when you think I’m not looking. Blowing up this potion isn’t going to make me pay attention to you any faster. In fact, it would only do the opposite.”
From his seat on the high cabinet, the wolf pouted, kicking his feet like a child. Glancing up from his potion Arthur frowned at his familiar’s childish behavior. After a few centuries of life one would think he would have matured a little.
As if he was reading his witches mind Gilbert hopped off the counter and stormed from the kitchen, but not before sticking his tongue out over his shoulder. After he had disappeared down the hallway Arthur chuckled quietly before turning back to his potion. Then again, if Gilbert matured any he wouldn’t be himself anymore. And Arthur didn’t know what he would do if that happened.
He returned to his potion, carefully dropping in chunks of crushed dragons teeth. It would have been so much easier for both of them if he had been able to brew this potion at home in England. But the potion worked best with the teeth of Diamondback Dragons, which were only native to the Western United States of America and it was ridiculously expensive to import them.
And since money trouble was the reason he had accepted this damn job in the first place it only made sense that they come and harvest the teeth themselves. It was much easier on their finances, though the flight across land and sea was long and difficult. The dragon had been only to happy to trade a few teeth for some shiny trinkets.
Arthur carefully placed the lid back on the pot. The potion needed to simmer for a few more nights before they could package it and safely transport it back to England for the client. Arthur sighed as he pulled off his apron, human technology was progressing so quickly these days. He hadn’t used an actual cauldron in years. Now Gilbert had made him promise that they would ride the steam engine back to the Eastern coast. Arthur shuddered in anticipation, the thing seemed like a moving tea kettle. Give him the safety of a broomstick any day.
Tossing the apron onto the counter Arthur set off in search of his familiar. Gilbert was in the sitting room. Lounged across the cushion in the window seat, his eyes were closed as he allowed the sunlight to warm his face. In the doorway Arthur paused, simply taking in the view. Despite the years that had passed, Gilbert's appearance, like his own, had never changed. His skin was still ivory pale, dotted here and there with faint pink scars. Hidden beneath his eyelids, his irises were still the same vicious blood red color as they had been the first night that he appeared from the forest.
His snow colored hair fell forward into his eyes and Arthur couldn’t help but stepping forward to brush it aside. He crossed the room quietly and reached forward slowly. Only to be caught as Gilbert jumped forward, capturing him between his wiry arms with a wild flash of teeth.
“Ha! I caught you! The wolf will always capture the rabbit.”
Arthur blushed furiously and quickly slapped his familiar upside the head. “Damn it Gilbert! The one time I mess up a transfiguration spell and you just won’t let it go! I thought I asked you never to mention it again?”
Gilbert cackled, dragging Arthur down into his lap in the window seat as he nuzzled his nose and lips against the soft hair at the nape of his witches neck. “No, you asked me to never mention it in public again. Not to never bring it up again at all. Anyway, I can’t help it. It’s not my fault that you made an absolutely adorable bunny rabbit! Too cute to eat, I just wanted to pet your long floppy ears and that cute little tail all night long.”
Arthur’s blush deepened. The way he remembered things, the wolf had done just that. Except instead of keeping to his human form, he had cuddled against the rabbit-Arthur as a wolf and gently licked his fur and ears until he had changed back into a human the next morning. Looking back at that night, Arthur couldn’t remember what emotion had been more prominent in his mind. Terror or arousal.
Gilbert cackled again, running his tongue lightly up the shell of his witches ear. Arthur seriously needed to look up whether familiars could really read their witches minds. Or if the beasts were just extraordinarily in tune to their emotions. If Gilbert had been keeping that big of a secret from him all these years he was going to be pissed!
Gilbert's large warm hands slipped across his stomach, he hadn't even noticed that the wolf had un-tucked his shirt tails. The pads of his fingertips traced lazy circles across Arthur's skin, down his sides then up his back. The man sighed, allowing his muscles to relax as the wolf kneaded his shoulders.
“What do you think Arthur? Should we stay in tonight? I’m feeling like going out for a meal and a drink myself. We haven’t been to the saloon in town yet. What do you think?”
Arthur leaned up against his familiar’s chest, feeling the others strong heartbeat drumming against his back. Vibrant green eyes fluttered closed as Gilbert shifted their bodies around until they were both lying flat on the cushion. Should they go out tonight? Arthur really didn’t feel much like cooking, throwing out the burned charred mess after Gilbert’s inevitable distraction, then cooking the meal all over again. But they weren’t in England anymore. America had never been very friendly towards witches. It had been difficult to find a place to stay in town once everyone had discovered that he was a witch.
“No one will hurt us Arthur. I swear, if anyone so much as tries I will rip them to pieces.”
Arthur chuckled darkly, his lips curling slightly upwards.
“I’m sure that you would. I’m sure that they know it too. That’s probably the reason why humans are so scared of us.”
As the doors to the saloon swung open and the witch and his familiar stepped through, the rough housing patrons quickly fell silent. Arthur’s boots clicked loudly on the wooden floor as he walked slowly to the first table available. He didn’t cower under the intense gazes. Arthur Kirkland stood with his back ramrod straight, his chin raised, eyes pointed straight ahead.
Gilbert prowled behind him. A loose languid gate, with his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. His eyes were bright with a wicked light as he starred down anyone brave enough to meet them. Arthur didn’t wait for Gilbert, instead sitting first and waving a hand to the serving wench.
The girl hesitated, eyeing Gilbert nervously as he flopped into the chair opposite Arthur and slammed his heels loudly onto the table. She looked to the bartender, a weary looking man, for guidance and he quickly waved her forward. She stepped up to the table, very careful not to meet either of the men’s eyes. Arthur refrained from his urge to laugh. He wondered what horror stories she had heard of witches. Gilbert laughed loudly as she practically ran from the table to fetch their orders.
“Look at them all! Outraged that we’re polluting their atmosphere but too busy pissing themselves to do anything about it!”
His voice rang out across the room and his eyes darted across the crowd. Daring anyone to disagree with his statement. Slowly the piano man stuck into the corner began to play again and the patrons returned to their conversations. But the volume was much quieter than before. Arthur sighed, resting his chin on top of his laced fingers as he leveled his gaze on his familiar.
“One of these days we are going to meet someone foolish enough to rise to your bait. And then the people will have a valid reason to run us out of town.”
Gilbert cackled. He pulled his feet off the table, leaning across to whisper conspiratorially to his witch.
“I only hope that when that day comes, the bastard with the balls to stand up to me is worth the trouble.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared in the direction the serving wench had disappeared. “I’m dying for a good brawl. I haven’t had a real rush since we fought against those Northern witches. They sure as hell didn’t look like much themselves. Short, skinny, kind of like you actually!” Arthur scowled. “Cute but matched up with some powerful bastards.” He shook slightly. “I swear though, that damn lion’s stare still shows up in my nightmares.”
Arthur couldn’t help but nod along. The gigantic familiar sometimes haunted his dark dreams as well. That had been the one fight that he entered not one hundred percent sure of victory. It had been a pure chance that of luck on their part that the fight had drawn another Scandinavian pair. At first he had despaired, believing the two too be allies. That was until the lion charged down the cheerfully annoying fox, giving him the chance he needed to drag Gilbert away for a tactical retreat.
“Yes, it’s times like that when I wish that I had better control of you.” Gilbert snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and averting his eyes. “If you hadn’t so blatantly insulted his witch, the scary lion wouldn’t have growled and waved his claws at you!”
Gilbert muttered angrily under his breath, still not meeting his eyes as the wench brought out their food. The mugs and plates rattled loudly. Her hands shook horribly, eyes still averted. When his drink sloshed out onto the table, Arthur finally snapped.
“Oh for Gods sake girl! Calm yourself, I’m not going to curse you or anything of the sort. Just do your bloody job and get out of my sight!”
She glanced up in shock, involuntarily meeting his angry gaze for a moment. Her eyes widened as she nodded fearfully and scurried away. The crowd murmured angrily among themselves. Apparently this outburst was enough to stir the courage of some. A young man, practically a boy, rose. From his dress he appeared to be a ranch hand.
He stormed forward, followed closely by another boy who could only be his twin, for they were the spitting image of each other. Behind them followed a smaller boy, his short hair almost the same shade of white as Gilbert’s, his eyes a shocking violet. Gilbert’s eyes were quickly drawn to the boy. He sniffed the air lightly and smiled, ravenously.
“Hey mister! Just because you’re a witch and new in town doesn’t give you the right to be so rude.” The young man’s hair was corn yellow and his eyes were a vibrant sky blue. Arthur rose to his feet as the grass met the sky with a crash of wills. “I demand an apology or I challenge you to a duel in her honor!”
Gilbert’s grin was vicious. The little boy and the brother both drew back, frightened, but the man himself stood his ground. The wolf jumped to his feet, moving quickly towards his challenger. His fingers were twitching, clenching and unclenching. His eyes were becoming wild as he lost himself in the will to fight. Arthur shot to his feet, ready to intercept.
“Agreed," The wolf's voice was a low growl. "But don’t come haunting me when you die little boy.”
Arthur quickly intervened. He stepped between the two, reaching a hand out to flick his familiar between the eyes in an attempt to call him back to his senses. Gilbert frowned, but stopped his advance, although reluctantly. Arthur turned to face the other. A young man, barely into his life. He shook his head pityingly.
“Boy, I don’t think you realize what you are asking for. You might think that it is brave and heroic to duel a witch. But it isn’t. For you all it would end with would be a quick and most likely painful death.” He slowly released the careful hold on his magical aura. It snapped around and away from him, a red sheen on the air surging outwards like a wave. Slowly he allowed the weight of his power to crash down on the humans around them. The blue eyes widened with shock as he momentarily collapsed to a knee. Behind him Gilbert was bristling. Basking in the warmth of their shared power, slowly allowing himself to changed between forms with a low growl.
Men and women screamed as the fled the saloon. But the man and his companions’ held their ground, despite the fact that hey were fighting to stand. Arthur sighed, reigning in his power enough to allow them to climb to their feet. “Just walk away boy, I’ll let you this once. You don’t know what you are dealing with.”
The large white wolf padded up beside him, nudging his head against Arthur hand. Gilbert had completely transformed for the first time in years. He bared his teeth to the enemy with a wolfish grin and a vicious growl. Arthur was sure that the man would cower and turn away but amazingly he stood his ground. He even had the nerve to smile!
“That’s okay! I think I can handle it, after all, I’m a witch too!” Arthur and Gilbert froze, each testing the air as the stared at the boy. Was he serious? How come they couldn’t sense his magic? “Didn’t you wonder why I was so mad? If you go around acting like that you’re giving all witches a bad name!” His grin vanished, his face the picture of sincerity. “So I’m going to fight you. And when I win I’ll make you apologize!”
The man jumped forward, throwing out a hand in a dramatic gesture. Arthur tensed, Gilbert prepared to pounce. “All right Mathew! Let’s fight!” The two prepared for a charge, for a magical attack. But instead the mans twin stepped forward, speaking pleadingly with great exasperation.
“Alfred! How many times do I have to tell you. I’m not your familiar. I'm your brother ! You are not a witch!”
The witch froze, a look of incredulous surprise stretching across his face. Gilbert changed back into his human form with a violent snap.
“Are you serious? Are you fucking kidding me?” He bared his fangs, his fingernails becoming vicious claws as he strode towards Alfred. “I should fucking rip you to pieces!”
A shouted spell froze the wolf in his tracks as a large white bear jumped between him and his target. Arthur looked to the twin, Mathew. He was shaking, fearful, but the spell that he had cast held. With a snap of his fingers Arthur broke it, freeing his familiar. Gilbert quickly jumped back to his witches side, snarling.
“Alfred may not really be a witch. But I am.” His voice shook, clearly terrified. Arthur sighed. It was going to be impossible to get Gilbert home after this. Even if he got to fight, it wouldn’t be a very good one. “I won’t let you hurt my brother, but I don’t want to fight you. So let’s just both apologize and leave it at that.” Gilbert’s shoulders sagged as he undoubtedly reached the same conclusion as his witch.
Arthur caught his familiar by the collar of his shirt and dropped a large amount of gold onto the table. Gilbert allowed himself to be dragged away, easier than Arthur had expected, as he sulked, disappointed that there wouldn’t be a fight. At the door the witch paused and turned back to the nervous witch and his loud mouthed brother. The bear had carefully kept himself between them at all times and Gilbert snarled at him with a mock charge sending the poor beast scrambling back to his witches side.
“We’ll leave you whole this time boy. But get a grip on your brother. One day he’s going to bad mouth the wrong witch and get all three of you killed.” Arthur paused, drawing out the silence as he remembered his own first experience with a fellow witch. “Or something much, much worse.” He didn't clarify as he turned back to the door, fingers still twisted in his familiars collar. He imagined that he he allowed the boys to draw their own conclusions they would manage to come up with something suitably terrifying. Gilbert pulled out of his hold, stuffing his hands back into his pockets with a huff.
"When we get back to England we are going to turn over that potion and go hunting for frogs."
Arthur smirked. Every decade or so they would run across the path of the Frenchmen that had attempted to enslave him that night so long ago. And nothing really cheered him up like listening to the frog croak as he dangled over a fire. He laughed, a sinister sound that Gilbert mimicked. The wolf slipped close to him, nudging him with his shoulder. Arthur smiled, nudging him back.
"That's the best idea that I've heard in years."
OMAKE: Frog Hunting
Francis panted, dodging between trees as he ran. His booted feet pounded hard against the dirt and he desperately wished that he had thought to bring his broomstick with him. He could have escaped if he could have flown. But he wouldn’t escape without Jeanne, he searched for her, trying to sense her magical presence and found nothing. What the hell had that rosbif done to her!
A flash of red and the ground before him disappeared. With a cry and a curse he tumbled headfirst into the gaping pit. He groaned as he sat up, a delicate gloved hand moving to his forehead. It came away stained red and he groaned again. Two very different laughs echoed into the pit and Francis cringed.
A clod of dirt smacked into his head, exploding and showering his beautiful hair with dirt. He cursed, violently running his hands through his hair in a vain attempt to remove the dirt. The laughter at the lip of the pit only increased and Francis glared up at the two.
“Hey Arthur, have you ever tasted frog legs before? I did back in the states. They kinda tasted like…chicken.”
“Gilbert the very idea is atrocious! Why would I want to put frog legs in my mouth? I have no idea where they’ve been. They're probably diseased.”
“You English bastard! What have you done with Jeanne? Where is she?”
Arthur smirked, looking exceptionally vicious ( and in Gilbert's opinion very sexy) as he waved a hand, casting a spell and further trapping the Frenchmen. Then he called down into the pit as the two turned and joyfully walked away.
“Oh your Joan is in a similar situation as you! Just several miles away. How do you like my knot work? I learned that on a recent trip to the American West. It’s called a hog tie, although I rather fancy in this situation it’s more of a frog tie! Have fun getting yourself loose!”
Lol, I really loved the idea that in a world full of magic, Alfred doesn't have any...but completely believes that he does. I feel really sorry for Mathew!( Kumajiro was his familiar if you didn't guess that already)
The Northern witches that I mentioned were Finland and Norway, with Sweden and Denmark as their respective familiars. I made Sweden a lion because I've heard him called the Lion of the North before and Denmark a fox because...well...I don't really know why. If just like the idea of Den!Fox.
I've got a third part formulating in my head in which we meet Gilbert's little brother Ludwig and his fairly useless witch Feliciano. Not sure who else I might include though. I have a list of the witch/familiar pairings that I decided on though if someone would like to see them XD
Arthur/Gilbert (obviously) - Wolf
Francis/Jeanne - Cat
Mathew/Kumajiro - Polar Bear
Feliciano/Ludwig - Wolf
Lovino/Antonio - Bull
Norway/Denmark - Red Fox
Roderich/Elizabeta - Turul
Author: shinju90
Summary: AU Arthur and Gilbert have been together for years now, but every now and then they run across things that still surprise them.
Rating: T
Pairing: PrUK
Warnings: Human names, fluff, and some silly moments.
A/N: De-anon from the kink meme. Direct cross post, not beta'd. The OP requested a sequel and I still have some ideas swimming around in my head so I decided to make it a trilogy.
“Damn it Gilbert! Please stop trying to toss extra ingredients into the pot when you think I’m not looking. Blowing up this potion isn’t going to make me pay attention to you any faster. In fact, it would only do the opposite.”
From his seat on the high cabinet, the wolf pouted, kicking his feet like a child. Glancing up from his potion Arthur frowned at his familiar’s childish behavior. After a few centuries of life one would think he would have matured a little.
As if he was reading his witches mind Gilbert hopped off the counter and stormed from the kitchen, but not before sticking his tongue out over his shoulder. After he had disappeared down the hallway Arthur chuckled quietly before turning back to his potion. Then again, if Gilbert matured any he wouldn’t be himself anymore. And Arthur didn’t know what he would do if that happened.
He returned to his potion, carefully dropping in chunks of crushed dragons teeth. It would have been so much easier for both of them if he had been able to brew this potion at home in England. But the potion worked best with the teeth of Diamondback Dragons, which were only native to the Western United States of America and it was ridiculously expensive to import them.
And since money trouble was the reason he had accepted this damn job in the first place it only made sense that they come and harvest the teeth themselves. It was much easier on their finances, though the flight across land and sea was long and difficult. The dragon had been only to happy to trade a few teeth for some shiny trinkets.
Arthur carefully placed the lid back on the pot. The potion needed to simmer for a few more nights before they could package it and safely transport it back to England for the client. Arthur sighed as he pulled off his apron, human technology was progressing so quickly these days. He hadn’t used an actual cauldron in years. Now Gilbert had made him promise that they would ride the steam engine back to the Eastern coast. Arthur shuddered in anticipation, the thing seemed like a moving tea kettle. Give him the safety of a broomstick any day.
Tossing the apron onto the counter Arthur set off in search of his familiar. Gilbert was in the sitting room. Lounged across the cushion in the window seat, his eyes were closed as he allowed the sunlight to warm his face. In the doorway Arthur paused, simply taking in the view. Despite the years that had passed, Gilbert's appearance, like his own, had never changed. His skin was still ivory pale, dotted here and there with faint pink scars. Hidden beneath his eyelids, his irises were still the same vicious blood red color as they had been the first night that he appeared from the forest.
His snow colored hair fell forward into his eyes and Arthur couldn’t help but stepping forward to brush it aside. He crossed the room quietly and reached forward slowly. Only to be caught as Gilbert jumped forward, capturing him between his wiry arms with a wild flash of teeth.
“Ha! I caught you! The wolf will always capture the rabbit.”
Arthur blushed furiously and quickly slapped his familiar upside the head. “Damn it Gilbert! The one time I mess up a transfiguration spell and you just won’t let it go! I thought I asked you never to mention it again?”
Gilbert cackled, dragging Arthur down into his lap in the window seat as he nuzzled his nose and lips against the soft hair at the nape of his witches neck. “No, you asked me to never mention it in public again. Not to never bring it up again at all. Anyway, I can’t help it. It’s not my fault that you made an absolutely adorable bunny rabbit! Too cute to eat, I just wanted to pet your long floppy ears and that cute little tail all night long.”
Arthur’s blush deepened. The way he remembered things, the wolf had done just that. Except instead of keeping to his human form, he had cuddled against the rabbit-Arthur as a wolf and gently licked his fur and ears until he had changed back into a human the next morning. Looking back at that night, Arthur couldn’t remember what emotion had been more prominent in his mind. Terror or arousal.
Gilbert cackled again, running his tongue lightly up the shell of his witches ear. Arthur seriously needed to look up whether familiars could really read their witches minds. Or if the beasts were just extraordinarily in tune to their emotions. If Gilbert had been keeping that big of a secret from him all these years he was going to be pissed!
Gilbert's large warm hands slipped across his stomach, he hadn't even noticed that the wolf had un-tucked his shirt tails. The pads of his fingertips traced lazy circles across Arthur's skin, down his sides then up his back. The man sighed, allowing his muscles to relax as the wolf kneaded his shoulders.
“What do you think Arthur? Should we stay in tonight? I’m feeling like going out for a meal and a drink myself. We haven’t been to the saloon in town yet. What do you think?”
Arthur leaned up against his familiar’s chest, feeling the others strong heartbeat drumming against his back. Vibrant green eyes fluttered closed as Gilbert shifted their bodies around until they were both lying flat on the cushion. Should they go out tonight? Arthur really didn’t feel much like cooking, throwing out the burned charred mess after Gilbert’s inevitable distraction, then cooking the meal all over again. But they weren’t in England anymore. America had never been very friendly towards witches. It had been difficult to find a place to stay in town once everyone had discovered that he was a witch.
“No one will hurt us Arthur. I swear, if anyone so much as tries I will rip them to pieces.”
Arthur chuckled darkly, his lips curling slightly upwards.
“I’m sure that you would. I’m sure that they know it too. That’s probably the reason why humans are so scared of us.”
As the doors to the saloon swung open and the witch and his familiar stepped through, the rough housing patrons quickly fell silent. Arthur’s boots clicked loudly on the wooden floor as he walked slowly to the first table available. He didn’t cower under the intense gazes. Arthur Kirkland stood with his back ramrod straight, his chin raised, eyes pointed straight ahead.
Gilbert prowled behind him. A loose languid gate, with his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. His eyes were bright with a wicked light as he starred down anyone brave enough to meet them. Arthur didn’t wait for Gilbert, instead sitting first and waving a hand to the serving wench.
The girl hesitated, eyeing Gilbert nervously as he flopped into the chair opposite Arthur and slammed his heels loudly onto the table. She looked to the bartender, a weary looking man, for guidance and he quickly waved her forward. She stepped up to the table, very careful not to meet either of the men’s eyes. Arthur refrained from his urge to laugh. He wondered what horror stories she had heard of witches. Gilbert laughed loudly as she practically ran from the table to fetch their orders.
“Look at them all! Outraged that we’re polluting their atmosphere but too busy pissing themselves to do anything about it!”
His voice rang out across the room and his eyes darted across the crowd. Daring anyone to disagree with his statement. Slowly the piano man stuck into the corner began to play again and the patrons returned to their conversations. But the volume was much quieter than before. Arthur sighed, resting his chin on top of his laced fingers as he leveled his gaze on his familiar.
“One of these days we are going to meet someone foolish enough to rise to your bait. And then the people will have a valid reason to run us out of town.”
Gilbert cackled. He pulled his feet off the table, leaning across to whisper conspiratorially to his witch.
“I only hope that when that day comes, the bastard with the balls to stand up to me is worth the trouble.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared in the direction the serving wench had disappeared. “I’m dying for a good brawl. I haven’t had a real rush since we fought against those Northern witches. They sure as hell didn’t look like much themselves. Short, skinny, kind of like you actually!” Arthur scowled. “Cute but matched up with some powerful bastards.” He shook slightly. “I swear though, that damn lion’s stare still shows up in my nightmares.”
Arthur couldn’t help but nod along. The gigantic familiar sometimes haunted his dark dreams as well. That had been the one fight that he entered not one hundred percent sure of victory. It had been a pure chance that of luck on their part that the fight had drawn another Scandinavian pair. At first he had despaired, believing the two too be allies. That was until the lion charged down the cheerfully annoying fox, giving him the chance he needed to drag Gilbert away for a tactical retreat.
“Yes, it’s times like that when I wish that I had better control of you.” Gilbert snorted, crossing his arms over his chest and averting his eyes. “If you hadn’t so blatantly insulted his witch, the scary lion wouldn’t have growled and waved his claws at you!”
Gilbert muttered angrily under his breath, still not meeting his eyes as the wench brought out their food. The mugs and plates rattled loudly. Her hands shook horribly, eyes still averted. When his drink sloshed out onto the table, Arthur finally snapped.
“Oh for Gods sake girl! Calm yourself, I’m not going to curse you or anything of the sort. Just do your bloody job and get out of my sight!”
She glanced up in shock, involuntarily meeting his angry gaze for a moment. Her eyes widened as she nodded fearfully and scurried away. The crowd murmured angrily among themselves. Apparently this outburst was enough to stir the courage of some. A young man, practically a boy, rose. From his dress he appeared to be a ranch hand.
He stormed forward, followed closely by another boy who could only be his twin, for they were the spitting image of each other. Behind them followed a smaller boy, his short hair almost the same shade of white as Gilbert’s, his eyes a shocking violet. Gilbert’s eyes were quickly drawn to the boy. He sniffed the air lightly and smiled, ravenously.
“Hey mister! Just because you’re a witch and new in town doesn’t give you the right to be so rude.” The young man’s hair was corn yellow and his eyes were a vibrant sky blue. Arthur rose to his feet as the grass met the sky with a crash of wills. “I demand an apology or I challenge you to a duel in her honor!”
Gilbert’s grin was vicious. The little boy and the brother both drew back, frightened, but the man himself stood his ground. The wolf jumped to his feet, moving quickly towards his challenger. His fingers were twitching, clenching and unclenching. His eyes were becoming wild as he lost himself in the will to fight. Arthur shot to his feet, ready to intercept.
“Agreed," The wolf's voice was a low growl. "But don’t come haunting me when you die little boy.”
Arthur quickly intervened. He stepped between the two, reaching a hand out to flick his familiar between the eyes in an attempt to call him back to his senses. Gilbert frowned, but stopped his advance, although reluctantly. Arthur turned to face the other. A young man, barely into his life. He shook his head pityingly.
“Boy, I don’t think you realize what you are asking for. You might think that it is brave and heroic to duel a witch. But it isn’t. For you all it would end with would be a quick and most likely painful death.” He slowly released the careful hold on his magical aura. It snapped around and away from him, a red sheen on the air surging outwards like a wave. Slowly he allowed the weight of his power to crash down on the humans around them. The blue eyes widened with shock as he momentarily collapsed to a knee. Behind him Gilbert was bristling. Basking in the warmth of their shared power, slowly allowing himself to changed between forms with a low growl.
Men and women screamed as the fled the saloon. But the man and his companions’ held their ground, despite the fact that hey were fighting to stand. Arthur sighed, reigning in his power enough to allow them to climb to their feet. “Just walk away boy, I’ll let you this once. You don’t know what you are dealing with.”
The large white wolf padded up beside him, nudging his head against Arthur hand. Gilbert had completely transformed for the first time in years. He bared his teeth to the enemy with a wolfish grin and a vicious growl. Arthur was sure that the man would cower and turn away but amazingly he stood his ground. He even had the nerve to smile!
“That’s okay! I think I can handle it, after all, I’m a witch too!” Arthur and Gilbert froze, each testing the air as the stared at the boy. Was he serious? How come they couldn’t sense his magic? “Didn’t you wonder why I was so mad? If you go around acting like that you’re giving all witches a bad name!” His grin vanished, his face the picture of sincerity. “So I’m going to fight you. And when I win I’ll make you apologize!”
The man jumped forward, throwing out a hand in a dramatic gesture. Arthur tensed, Gilbert prepared to pounce. “All right Mathew! Let’s fight!” The two prepared for a charge, for a magical attack. But instead the mans twin stepped forward, speaking pleadingly with great exasperation.
“Alfred! How many times do I have to tell you. I’m not your familiar. I'm your brother ! You are not a witch!”
The witch froze, a look of incredulous surprise stretching across his face. Gilbert changed back into his human form with a violent snap.
“Are you serious? Are you fucking kidding me?” He bared his fangs, his fingernails becoming vicious claws as he strode towards Alfred. “I should fucking rip you to pieces!”
A shouted spell froze the wolf in his tracks as a large white bear jumped between him and his target. Arthur looked to the twin, Mathew. He was shaking, fearful, but the spell that he had cast held. With a snap of his fingers Arthur broke it, freeing his familiar. Gilbert quickly jumped back to his witches side, snarling.
“Alfred may not really be a witch. But I am.” His voice shook, clearly terrified. Arthur sighed. It was going to be impossible to get Gilbert home after this. Even if he got to fight, it wouldn’t be a very good one. “I won’t let you hurt my brother, but I don’t want to fight you. So let’s just both apologize and leave it at that.” Gilbert’s shoulders sagged as he undoubtedly reached the same conclusion as his witch.
Arthur caught his familiar by the collar of his shirt and dropped a large amount of gold onto the table. Gilbert allowed himself to be dragged away, easier than Arthur had expected, as he sulked, disappointed that there wouldn’t be a fight. At the door the witch paused and turned back to the nervous witch and his loud mouthed brother. The bear had carefully kept himself between them at all times and Gilbert snarled at him with a mock charge sending the poor beast scrambling back to his witches side.
“We’ll leave you whole this time boy. But get a grip on your brother. One day he’s going to bad mouth the wrong witch and get all three of you killed.” Arthur paused, drawing out the silence as he remembered his own first experience with a fellow witch. “Or something much, much worse.” He didn't clarify as he turned back to the door, fingers still twisted in his familiars collar. He imagined that he he allowed the boys to draw their own conclusions they would manage to come up with something suitably terrifying. Gilbert pulled out of his hold, stuffing his hands back into his pockets with a huff.
"When we get back to England we are going to turn over that potion and go hunting for frogs."
Arthur smirked. Every decade or so they would run across the path of the Frenchmen that had attempted to enslave him that night so long ago. And nothing really cheered him up like listening to the frog croak as he dangled over a fire. He laughed, a sinister sound that Gilbert mimicked. The wolf slipped close to him, nudging him with his shoulder. Arthur smiled, nudging him back.
"That's the best idea that I've heard in years."
OMAKE: Frog Hunting
Francis panted, dodging between trees as he ran. His booted feet pounded hard against the dirt and he desperately wished that he had thought to bring his broomstick with him. He could have escaped if he could have flown. But he wouldn’t escape without Jeanne, he searched for her, trying to sense her magical presence and found nothing. What the hell had that rosbif done to her!
A flash of red and the ground before him disappeared. With a cry and a curse he tumbled headfirst into the gaping pit. He groaned as he sat up, a delicate gloved hand moving to his forehead. It came away stained red and he groaned again. Two very different laughs echoed into the pit and Francis cringed.
A clod of dirt smacked into his head, exploding and showering his beautiful hair with dirt. He cursed, violently running his hands through his hair in a vain attempt to remove the dirt. The laughter at the lip of the pit only increased and Francis glared up at the two.
“Hey Arthur, have you ever tasted frog legs before? I did back in the states. They kinda tasted like…chicken.”
“Gilbert the very idea is atrocious! Why would I want to put frog legs in my mouth? I have no idea where they’ve been. They're probably diseased.”
“You English bastard! What have you done with Jeanne? Where is she?”
Arthur smirked, looking exceptionally vicious ( and in Gilbert's opinion very sexy) as he waved a hand, casting a spell and further trapping the Frenchmen. Then he called down into the pit as the two turned and joyfully walked away.
“Oh your Joan is in a similar situation as you! Just several miles away. How do you like my knot work? I learned that on a recent trip to the American West. It’s called a hog tie, although I rather fancy in this situation it’s more of a frog tie! Have fun getting yourself loose!”
Lol, I really loved the idea that in a world full of magic, Alfred doesn't have any...but completely believes that he does. I feel really sorry for Mathew!( Kumajiro was his familiar if you didn't guess that already)
The Northern witches that I mentioned were Finland and Norway, with Sweden and Denmark as their respective familiars. I made Sweden a lion because I've heard him called the Lion of the North before and Denmark a fox because...well...I don't really know why. If just like the idea of Den!Fox.
I've got a third part formulating in my head in which we meet Gilbert's little brother Ludwig and his fairly useless witch Feliciano. Not sure who else I might include though. I have a list of the witch/familiar pairings that I decided on though if someone would like to see them XD
Arthur/Gilbert (obviously) - Wolf
Francis/Jeanne - Cat
Mathew/Kumajiro - Polar Bear
Feliciano/Ludwig - Wolf
Lovino/Antonio - Bull
Norway/Denmark - Red Fox
Roderich/Elizabeta - Turul