(no subject)
Title: Croatoan
Author/Artist: halflight007/lenarix_klinde (beta by konishii)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America/England, mentions of Greece/Japan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Supernatural, Action/Adventure
Warnings: Language, mild crossover (I try not to make it too obvious)
Summary: On a crisp Halloween night, America disappears into the forests with no warning, and England will have to fight his way through a corrupted world to save him.
Disclaimer: Himayura-sensei lets me play with them as long as I clean ‘em off before I give them back.
Author’s Notes: I think this chapter might be a bit shorter than the others. This is also where I’m going to start making some major changes. I hope you will all still enjoy it.
Prologue | Chapter 1
___
Arthur’s bedtime routine is simple. A half-hour before he retires, he has a cup of Earl Grey tea. He takes his time, sipping his drink and looking out over London. While he lingers on particularly warm or clear nights, he usually doesn’t spend more than ten minutes finishing his evening cup.
When he’s finished, he retreats to the bedroom and spends another ten undressing, rebuttoning, and hanging up his clothes. He usually sighs with relief when he slips into his nightwear, relishing the light material on his skin.
The last ten minutes are his favorite. Arthur usually keeps his books on his shelves. There is one exception to this; a large Bible with a colorful cover.
Arthur has read the entire thing cover-to-cover several times. He reads one page each night, lingering on each word for as long as he can. He spends ten minutes remembering a little boy with a sweet lisp and a sweeter laugh, and he knows he’ll be a better reader when they meet again.
When he’s finished mulling over the page, Arthur blows out the candle, settles into the bed, and closes his eyes to London’s brightness, waiting for sleep to take him gently into the night.
“How’s he doing?”
“Not as well as his companion. …He’s alive for now, though.”
Arthur’s eyes flutter open.
While the sky above them is still a sinister gold, the air is different - clearer, free of the scent of decaying leaves. A little ways away from him, two men kneel over a body lying on the ground and talk in low voices. Arthur’s brain still feels too fogged to make out more than their silhouettes against the golden light.
He blinks once, slowly, and lifts his head a little. His gaze meets with indigo eyes and a pale, almost white face. The childlike fairy stares at Arthur for a moment before smiling.
“Good. I got to you in time,” it says, and turns away, cupping one hand to its mouth “He’s awake!”
The fairy’s call startles both men into silence for a moment. “…Would you mind watching him, please?”
“Yeah. Go on.”
One of the men stands and turns, walking to Arthur with slow steps. Mismatched blue and brown eyes watch him from behind thin glasses; his robes are dark and covered with wheeling, whirling patterns.
“Thank you, Ariel.”
The fairy blushes a bit and stands aside for the man to kneel at Arthur’s side.
“Can you move?”
Arthur blinks, flexes his fingers and realizes he can. With a grunt he pushes himself up so he can meet the other’s eyes properly. They are kind and soft, and they remind him of someone he thinks he once knew. But he can’t remember. Thinking hurts right now.
“Who are you?” Arthur asks instead.
The man smiles, just a little. “It’s not wise to share one’s name in a world like this,” he says, “for some would turn it against you.”
Arthur lays there a moment more and thinks about this. Names. Names….
My name is Caliban.
“Alfred!”
Arthur tries to stand, but his arms shake and won’t support his torso. He slips back down onto the ground and groans, hands fisting in the dirt as he squeezes his eyes shut. No. No. Please, God, no -
“Please don’t try to move yet,” Ariel says. His tiny fingers thread through Arthur’s hair and feel like small, cool breezes on a hot day.
“Where is he? Where’s Alfred? God help me I will smack some bloody sense into that boy -”
“It wouldn’t make a difference,” the man shakes his head, “he cannot hear you now.”
Arthur blinks. “The blazes are you talking about, man?”
But the man’s focus shifts away from Arthur, glancing at the dark trees around them, the way the branches twist and turn.
“Not too long before you began colonizing this land, a magus lived on this island.” The man’s slender fingers curl in the dirt, loosen and let soil slip through the cracks. “And before him, there lived a witch and her son.”
“Sycorax,” Ariel whispers, and trembles in the form of small little whorls of air.
Arthur frowns. That name sets off something in his memory. “That name sounds familiar.”
The man lifts his head to look at Arthur again.
“And for thou wast a spirit too delicate / to act her earthy and abhorred commands, refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee / by help of her most potent ministers, / and in her most unmitigable rage, / into a cloven pine….” The Magician’s eyes lock onto Arthur’s as he speaks.
By the time the man finishes speaking, Arthur is trembling as well.
“The Tempest was a play,” Arthur whispers, “it’s fiction. It’s not real.”
The Magician’s lips set into a grim line. “Fiction and reality,” he says, “do not have the defined line that people think lies between them. You should know this, Arthur Kirkland.”
“How do you know my name?”
The man smiles again, but doesn’t answer.
“Fine then,” Arthur mutters after a moment, “I’ll ask something different. What is that place?”
“‘That place’?” Ariel echoes with a frown. “I don’t sense anything different.”
“It’s the air. And just the feel of the space.” Arthur shifts and groans a bit as he sits up on his knees. “It’s clearer here. I can think.”
The man nods. “You aren’t affected by Sycorax’s magic, Ariel, but Arthur and his companion are. This space has to be separate from Croatoan - humans and non-fairies won’t last long against Sycorax’s spells.”
Croatoan. Arthur presses his shivers back into his heart. “The name of that world is -”
“The same as the name carved on a tree trunk by the Lost Colony. Yes.” The man’s smile has disappeared. “Croatoan is the name of an island. It is also the name Sycorax gave to this twisted world when she created it.”
More flickering, sharp breezes. “I hate this place,” Ariel whispers, “I hate it! I hate being bound to a place Lord Prospero freed me from!”
The Magician nods. “I know, Ariel. If only Prospero hadn’t buried his book here, this world might not have been corrupted so.”
Arthur swallows as he understands, and his throat clicks with dryness. “That world,” he says. “That’s magic pollution. Prospero buried his book here, and that magic….”
Ariel’s hair billows up as the fairy bows his head. “The magics of Men and Fey are not meant to blend,” Ariel says. “Prospero bound Sycorax to the world of fairies when he claimed this island as his own. He made a mistake in burying his book of conjuring. That magic became part of the land, and part of Sycorax’s domain.”
“She’s got Alfred,” Arthur whispers. He knows he’s right when brown and blue eyes meet his own, and his body tenses as his breath quickens.
Stop panicking, you git, he tells himself as bile burns his throat. He swallows and forces it down.
“So what do I have to do to save Alfred?”
The man meets his gaze head-on. “You will be on your own, beyond what small intervention I can give. And it may come with a price.”
Arthur feels something harden in his stomach. But he doesn’t look away, and after a few moments the Magician continues.
“If you are to save Alfred Jones, you will need to destroy Prospero’s book.”
A few moments pass. The silence numbs Arthur’s eardrums.
“Well? Get on with it. How do I do that?”
Ariel lifts its head, and Arthur breaks his gaze to look down into indigo eyes. “Y-you’re going to go through with this?” Ariel asks.
“It will not be easy,” the man adds.
Arthur snorts, bracing his hands against the ground as he stands. “You think I’m that much of a simpleton? Dealing with the Fey is never easy. But I’m not doing this because it’s easy.” His companion hasn’t yet stood, and Arthur frowns down at him, feeling solid and stable with his feet on the ground, though that might just be the clearer air.
The man stands, watches him for a moment more, and nods, the edges of his lips perking upward. Arthur feels his approval like a ray of sunlight.
“First things first,” he says. “We must take care of your friend.”
Arthur blinks, taking about three seconds to process that -
“Kiku…KIKU!”
The Magician says nothing as Arthur pushes past him and bolts across the clearing to Kiku’s side. He barely even registers the other man standing beside his unconscious body, except that he has a large bow and a stern expression that reminds him of Sweden.
All of Arthur’s attention narrows to Kiku as he kneels to the ground and takes a cold hand. Kiku is pale, much paler than he should be. His breaths are shallow, and a pulse marches along in slow beats underneath Kiku’s wrist.
“He lost a lot of life when that blade ran him through,” the man murmurs. “He’s almost beyond our help - and I don’t have the experience I need to revive him completely.”
Kiku’s hand feels numb, a dead weight clasped in Arthur’s fingers. “Then how is he…”
The man smiles and bends over, lowering a hand in front of Arthur’s face. In its palm rests a small rawhide bag. “Do you recognize this?” he asks.
Arthur blinks, reaching up with his other hand. “That’s the bag that the kappa gave to me to give to Kiku,” he murmurs
“Your friend Kiku is lucky,” the man says, and mismatched eyes soften in relief. “The contents of this bag are what kept him from death.”
The archer interrupts. “It’s not enough to wake him up.”
“As much as I hate to agree with this idiot, that’s right,” the man adds. “If Honda-san does not receive proper help, he’s not going to wake up.”
Arthur grits his teeth and tightens his hand on Kiku’s. “What can I do?” he asks through a mouth that doesn’t want to move. “What will I have to do to save Kiku and Alfred?”
“You must leave Croatoan for now,” the man says, kneeling and pressing a hand to Kiku’s forehead head. “Kiku Honda cannot survive in the world of Fey, as you can. He could, once upon a time, but he’s lost that talent.”
“That’s what the kappa said,” Arthur murmurs, his expression pained as he watches Kiku sleep.
A hand comes up from below, cups Arthur’s chin and lifts his head to look into mismatched eyes. “There is a way to make him See again, to help him survive in this place.” Arthur looks up into mismatched eyes through half-moon glasses.
“Ariel will be your guide through the world of Fey; that is all the help I can give you, beyond sending you to someone who can save Kiku.” The man looks away, thoughtful and a little sad. “The spirit you are looking for is dangerous, but she has the power that you seek. And you will not be alone.” The Magician smiles as he stands and brushes off his robes. “I have friends in that world that will help as well. Waking Honda-san is something you must do by yourself, though.”
Arthur frowns, repeats this to himself. Then he shakes his head a little. “I…don’t think I understand,” he says.
The Magician’s smile is infuriating as he walks over to the archer’s side. “You know that mortals understand little about this world. But then again, that has never stopped any fairy tale from having a happy ending. I am certain that everything will work out fine for you.” The man nods. “Ariel, I’m counting on you.”
“Oh! Right!”
Arthur’s gaze drifts down to the fairy. It’s hard to watch those small hands move, the movements flowing like water.
He’s so focused on watching them that the flash of light causes him to jump. His eyes glance downward, and he finds the three of them in the middle of a magic circle.
Arthur blinks.
I have seen this circle before. I know this magic.
He feels himself start to curl away at the edges, his body wisping away from this world. His eyes widen.
This magic belongs to -
Arthur lifts his head, looks at the man and his archer. As his body expands and dissolves on reality he opens his mouth; there’s a question he must have answered.
“Your name! Tell me your name!”
The Magician only smiles again, infuriating and mysterious.
“If you must call me anything at all, perhaps you should call me ‘Merlin’.”
The last thing he sees is mismatched blue and brown eyes, half-lidded and peaceful.
And then the three of them are gone, and his mind is stretched as they all hurtle into the darkness.
___
The first thing Arthur senses in this new world is color; rich greens, light blues, different shades of gray.
Then the rest of the world falls into place in sharp, definite shapes. The air smells sweet and clear. Arthur lands in something wet and cold, Kiku cradled in his arms.
He feels a breeze on his back, and then Ariel plops down by his side. “We’ve arrived, Master Kirkland,” Ariel says. Arthur looks down into those indigo eyes, so wide and unreadable.
“Thank you, Ariel.” Arthur shifts Kiku on his grip and looks up, looking around.
The edges and shapes of this realm are clear and defined, almost painful in their sharpness. He and Kiku have landed in a spring of some sort and are surrounded by rocks and lush green grass.
Kiku…
Arthur looks down at his friend. Color is starting to seep back into those pale cheeks, and Kiku’s breaths are beginning to even out into deep, soft things. Arthur runs his thumb over the back of Kiku’s hand; through the chill of the water, he thinks he senses warmth starting to pulse in those limbs once again.
“That’s good,” Arthur sighs. A smile sneaks onto his face, and he feels content to just rest here and watch over Kiku.
Ariel isn’t nearly so patient and tugs at Arthur’s sleeve. “W-we have to get out of here, Master Kirkland!” Ariel sounds worried and his focus is not on Arthur, but on the area around them.
Arthur has about a second to wonder why before something sharp whaps him on the back of the head and breaks the words on his tongue into tiny shards of pain.
“OW!”
“What are you doing here?”
Arthur whirls around and sends a glare over his shoulder. Purple eyes narrow right back. Arthur thinks for a moment that the girl wouldn’t look out of place at all in his earlier years with her bonnet, dress, and parasol.
“You’re not supposed to be here. Get out and stop polluting this water with your filth!”
Of course, once she opens her mouth, she ruins the ladylike illusion.
“What the hell was that for, bitch?” he snaps, standing and shifting Kiku’s weight in his arms.
“For dirtying this spring! It’s not for humans to use, you know!”
“Well excuse me for not being able to control where I land!” he snaps right back, ducking as she brandishes her parasol at him again.
“Get out! Honestly, first Jorougumo holes up in the summit, and now these pieces of trash show up…can’t you give her even a second of peace?”
Arthur blinks and takes a step back. “Her?” he asks. “Who are you talking about?”
“Well, all right, them, too,” she says, leaning back on her parasol and glaring at Arthur, “but especially her! There aren’t many places where -”
“Ame-warashi!”
Both of their heads snap up towards the voice. Arthur sees a flutter of decorative cloth, dark silk peppered with bright cherry blossom designs.
The new girl’s hair is dark and long, with a bit tied back behind her head by a pale ribbon. Arthur blinks once, twice.
I’ve met you, haven’t I…?
“This human was in the spring! This is a sacred place to spirits!”
“But I don’t mind sharing it with humans! Oh, Ame-warashi, why can’t you be a bit kinder to them…”
I have. I’ve heard that voice before.
“I am kind to them!”
“You’re polite to him, but not the others!”
Arthur feels something click into place.
“…Zashiki-warashi?”
Both girls stop arguing and turn to look at him. Arthur looks up at Zashiki-warashi. There. He feels it.
He knows she does when her own eyes widen.
“Kirkland-san…? And that’s - that’s Honda-dono, isn’t it?”
It is her. It’s the child that Arthur shouted at and chased around Kiku’s house; it’s the girl that Kiku claimed he couldn’t see. There are things he wants to ask her, so many things he wants to say. But the only thing to come out is a choked, desperate plea.
“Please,” he says, nodding. “He’s dying, Zashiki-warashi. Help him.”
___
Endnotes: On the kink meme, I divided up the chapters by worlds, so that they were all more like "arcs." I'm going to try to break those up into smaller chapters here so that they're both smaller and flow a bit more smoothly. Also, they're easier and quicker to read.
Comments are always welcome. Thanks for reading!
Author/Artist: halflight007/lenarix_klinde (beta by konishii)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America/England, mentions of Greece/Japan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Supernatural, Action/Adventure
Warnings: Language, mild crossover (I try not to make it too obvious)
Summary: On a crisp Halloween night, America disappears into the forests with no warning, and England will have to fight his way through a corrupted world to save him.
Disclaimer: Himayura-sensei lets me play with them as long as I clean ‘em off before I give them back.
Author’s Notes: I think this chapter might be a bit shorter than the others. This is also where I’m going to start making some major changes. I hope you will all still enjoy it.
Prologue | Chapter 1
___
Arthur’s bedtime routine is simple. A half-hour before he retires, he has a cup of Earl Grey tea. He takes his time, sipping his drink and looking out over London. While he lingers on particularly warm or clear nights, he usually doesn’t spend more than ten minutes finishing his evening cup.
When he’s finished, he retreats to the bedroom and spends another ten undressing, rebuttoning, and hanging up his clothes. He usually sighs with relief when he slips into his nightwear, relishing the light material on his skin.
The last ten minutes are his favorite. Arthur usually keeps his books on his shelves. There is one exception to this; a large Bible with a colorful cover.
Arthur has read the entire thing cover-to-cover several times. He reads one page each night, lingering on each word for as long as he can. He spends ten minutes remembering a little boy with a sweet lisp and a sweeter laugh, and he knows he’ll be a better reader when they meet again.
When he’s finished mulling over the page, Arthur blows out the candle, settles into the bed, and closes his eyes to London’s brightness, waiting for sleep to take him gently into the night.
“How’s he doing?”
“Not as well as his companion. …He’s alive for now, though.”
Arthur’s eyes flutter open.
While the sky above them is still a sinister gold, the air is different - clearer, free of the scent of decaying leaves. A little ways away from him, two men kneel over a body lying on the ground and talk in low voices. Arthur’s brain still feels too fogged to make out more than their silhouettes against the golden light.
He blinks once, slowly, and lifts his head a little. His gaze meets with indigo eyes and a pale, almost white face. The childlike fairy stares at Arthur for a moment before smiling.
“Good. I got to you in time,” it says, and turns away, cupping one hand to its mouth “He’s awake!”
The fairy’s call startles both men into silence for a moment. “…Would you mind watching him, please?”
“Yeah. Go on.”
One of the men stands and turns, walking to Arthur with slow steps. Mismatched blue and brown eyes watch him from behind thin glasses; his robes are dark and covered with wheeling, whirling patterns.
“Thank you, Ariel.”
The fairy blushes a bit and stands aside for the man to kneel at Arthur’s side.
“Can you move?”
Arthur blinks, flexes his fingers and realizes he can. With a grunt he pushes himself up so he can meet the other’s eyes properly. They are kind and soft, and they remind him of someone he thinks he once knew. But he can’t remember. Thinking hurts right now.
“Who are you?” Arthur asks instead.
The man smiles, just a little. “It’s not wise to share one’s name in a world like this,” he says, “for some would turn it against you.”
Arthur lays there a moment more and thinks about this. Names. Names….
My name is Caliban.
“Alfred!”
Arthur tries to stand, but his arms shake and won’t support his torso. He slips back down onto the ground and groans, hands fisting in the dirt as he squeezes his eyes shut. No. No. Please, God, no -
“Please don’t try to move yet,” Ariel says. His tiny fingers thread through Arthur’s hair and feel like small, cool breezes on a hot day.
“Where is he? Where’s Alfred? God help me I will smack some bloody sense into that boy -”
“It wouldn’t make a difference,” the man shakes his head, “he cannot hear you now.”
Arthur blinks. “The blazes are you talking about, man?”
But the man’s focus shifts away from Arthur, glancing at the dark trees around them, the way the branches twist and turn.
“Not too long before you began colonizing this land, a magus lived on this island.” The man’s slender fingers curl in the dirt, loosen and let soil slip through the cracks. “And before him, there lived a witch and her son.”
“Sycorax,” Ariel whispers, and trembles in the form of small little whorls of air.
Arthur frowns. That name sets off something in his memory. “That name sounds familiar.”
The man lifts his head to look at Arthur again.
“And for thou wast a spirit too delicate / to act her earthy and abhorred commands, refusing her grand hests, she did confine thee / by help of her most potent ministers, / and in her most unmitigable rage, / into a cloven pine….” The Magician’s eyes lock onto Arthur’s as he speaks.
By the time the man finishes speaking, Arthur is trembling as well.
“The Tempest was a play,” Arthur whispers, “it’s fiction. It’s not real.”
The Magician’s lips set into a grim line. “Fiction and reality,” he says, “do not have the defined line that people think lies between them. You should know this, Arthur Kirkland.”
“How do you know my name?”
The man smiles again, but doesn’t answer.
“Fine then,” Arthur mutters after a moment, “I’ll ask something different. What is that place?”
“‘That place’?” Ariel echoes with a frown. “I don’t sense anything different.”
“It’s the air. And just the feel of the space.” Arthur shifts and groans a bit as he sits up on his knees. “It’s clearer here. I can think.”
The man nods. “You aren’t affected by Sycorax’s magic, Ariel, but Arthur and his companion are. This space has to be separate from Croatoan - humans and non-fairies won’t last long against Sycorax’s spells.”
Croatoan. Arthur presses his shivers back into his heart. “The name of that world is -”
“The same as the name carved on a tree trunk by the Lost Colony. Yes.” The man’s smile has disappeared. “Croatoan is the name of an island. It is also the name Sycorax gave to this twisted world when she created it.”
More flickering, sharp breezes. “I hate this place,” Ariel whispers, “I hate it! I hate being bound to a place Lord Prospero freed me from!”
The Magician nods. “I know, Ariel. If only Prospero hadn’t buried his book here, this world might not have been corrupted so.”
Arthur swallows as he understands, and his throat clicks with dryness. “That world,” he says. “That’s magic pollution. Prospero buried his book here, and that magic….”
Ariel’s hair billows up as the fairy bows his head. “The magics of Men and Fey are not meant to blend,” Ariel says. “Prospero bound Sycorax to the world of fairies when he claimed this island as his own. He made a mistake in burying his book of conjuring. That magic became part of the land, and part of Sycorax’s domain.”
“She’s got Alfred,” Arthur whispers. He knows he’s right when brown and blue eyes meet his own, and his body tenses as his breath quickens.
Stop panicking, you git, he tells himself as bile burns his throat. He swallows and forces it down.
“So what do I have to do to save Alfred?”
The man meets his gaze head-on. “You will be on your own, beyond what small intervention I can give. And it may come with a price.”
Arthur feels something harden in his stomach. But he doesn’t look away, and after a few moments the Magician continues.
“If you are to save Alfred Jones, you will need to destroy Prospero’s book.”
A few moments pass. The silence numbs Arthur’s eardrums.
“Well? Get on with it. How do I do that?”
Ariel lifts its head, and Arthur breaks his gaze to look down into indigo eyes. “Y-you’re going to go through with this?” Ariel asks.
“It will not be easy,” the man adds.
Arthur snorts, bracing his hands against the ground as he stands. “You think I’m that much of a simpleton? Dealing with the Fey is never easy. But I’m not doing this because it’s easy.” His companion hasn’t yet stood, and Arthur frowns down at him, feeling solid and stable with his feet on the ground, though that might just be the clearer air.
The man stands, watches him for a moment more, and nods, the edges of his lips perking upward. Arthur feels his approval like a ray of sunlight.
“First things first,” he says. “We must take care of your friend.”
Arthur blinks, taking about three seconds to process that -
“Kiku…KIKU!”
The Magician says nothing as Arthur pushes past him and bolts across the clearing to Kiku’s side. He barely even registers the other man standing beside his unconscious body, except that he has a large bow and a stern expression that reminds him of Sweden.
All of Arthur’s attention narrows to Kiku as he kneels to the ground and takes a cold hand. Kiku is pale, much paler than he should be. His breaths are shallow, and a pulse marches along in slow beats underneath Kiku’s wrist.
“He lost a lot of life when that blade ran him through,” the man murmurs. “He’s almost beyond our help - and I don’t have the experience I need to revive him completely.”
Kiku’s hand feels numb, a dead weight clasped in Arthur’s fingers. “Then how is he…”
The man smiles and bends over, lowering a hand in front of Arthur’s face. In its palm rests a small rawhide bag. “Do you recognize this?” he asks.
Arthur blinks, reaching up with his other hand. “That’s the bag that the kappa gave to me to give to Kiku,” he murmurs
“Your friend Kiku is lucky,” the man says, and mismatched eyes soften in relief. “The contents of this bag are what kept him from death.”
The archer interrupts. “It’s not enough to wake him up.”
“As much as I hate to agree with this idiot, that’s right,” the man adds. “If Honda-san does not receive proper help, he’s not going to wake up.”
Arthur grits his teeth and tightens his hand on Kiku’s. “What can I do?” he asks through a mouth that doesn’t want to move. “What will I have to do to save Kiku and Alfred?”
“You must leave Croatoan for now,” the man says, kneeling and pressing a hand to Kiku’s forehead head. “Kiku Honda cannot survive in the world of Fey, as you can. He could, once upon a time, but he’s lost that talent.”
“That’s what the kappa said,” Arthur murmurs, his expression pained as he watches Kiku sleep.
A hand comes up from below, cups Arthur’s chin and lifts his head to look into mismatched eyes. “There is a way to make him See again, to help him survive in this place.” Arthur looks up into mismatched eyes through half-moon glasses.
“Ariel will be your guide through the world of Fey; that is all the help I can give you, beyond sending you to someone who can save Kiku.” The man looks away, thoughtful and a little sad. “The spirit you are looking for is dangerous, but she has the power that you seek. And you will not be alone.” The Magician smiles as he stands and brushes off his robes. “I have friends in that world that will help as well. Waking Honda-san is something you must do by yourself, though.”
Arthur frowns, repeats this to himself. Then he shakes his head a little. “I…don’t think I understand,” he says.
The Magician’s smile is infuriating as he walks over to the archer’s side. “You know that mortals understand little about this world. But then again, that has never stopped any fairy tale from having a happy ending. I am certain that everything will work out fine for you.” The man nods. “Ariel, I’m counting on you.”
“Oh! Right!”
Arthur’s gaze drifts down to the fairy. It’s hard to watch those small hands move, the movements flowing like water.
He’s so focused on watching them that the flash of light causes him to jump. His eyes glance downward, and he finds the three of them in the middle of a magic circle.
Arthur blinks.
I have seen this circle before. I know this magic.
He feels himself start to curl away at the edges, his body wisping away from this world. His eyes widen.
This magic belongs to -
Arthur lifts his head, looks at the man and his archer. As his body expands and dissolves on reality he opens his mouth; there’s a question he must have answered.
“Your name! Tell me your name!”
The Magician only smiles again, infuriating and mysterious.
“If you must call me anything at all, perhaps you should call me ‘Merlin’.”
The last thing he sees is mismatched blue and brown eyes, half-lidded and peaceful.
And then the three of them are gone, and his mind is stretched as they all hurtle into the darkness.
___
The first thing Arthur senses in this new world is color; rich greens, light blues, different shades of gray.
Then the rest of the world falls into place in sharp, definite shapes. The air smells sweet and clear. Arthur lands in something wet and cold, Kiku cradled in his arms.
He feels a breeze on his back, and then Ariel plops down by his side. “We’ve arrived, Master Kirkland,” Ariel says. Arthur looks down into those indigo eyes, so wide and unreadable.
“Thank you, Ariel.” Arthur shifts Kiku on his grip and looks up, looking around.
The edges and shapes of this realm are clear and defined, almost painful in their sharpness. He and Kiku have landed in a spring of some sort and are surrounded by rocks and lush green grass.
Kiku…
Arthur looks down at his friend. Color is starting to seep back into those pale cheeks, and Kiku’s breaths are beginning to even out into deep, soft things. Arthur runs his thumb over the back of Kiku’s hand; through the chill of the water, he thinks he senses warmth starting to pulse in those limbs once again.
“That’s good,” Arthur sighs. A smile sneaks onto his face, and he feels content to just rest here and watch over Kiku.
Ariel isn’t nearly so patient and tugs at Arthur’s sleeve. “W-we have to get out of here, Master Kirkland!” Ariel sounds worried and his focus is not on Arthur, but on the area around them.
Arthur has about a second to wonder why before something sharp whaps him on the back of the head and breaks the words on his tongue into tiny shards of pain.
“OW!”
“What are you doing here?”
Arthur whirls around and sends a glare over his shoulder. Purple eyes narrow right back. Arthur thinks for a moment that the girl wouldn’t look out of place at all in his earlier years with her bonnet, dress, and parasol.
“You’re not supposed to be here. Get out and stop polluting this water with your filth!”
Of course, once she opens her mouth, she ruins the ladylike illusion.
“What the hell was that for, bitch?” he snaps, standing and shifting Kiku’s weight in his arms.
“For dirtying this spring! It’s not for humans to use, you know!”
“Well excuse me for not being able to control where I land!” he snaps right back, ducking as she brandishes her parasol at him again.
“Get out! Honestly, first Jorougumo holes up in the summit, and now these pieces of trash show up…can’t you give her even a second of peace?”
Arthur blinks and takes a step back. “Her?” he asks. “Who are you talking about?”
“Well, all right, them, too,” she says, leaning back on her parasol and glaring at Arthur, “but especially her! There aren’t many places where -”
“Ame-warashi!”
Both of their heads snap up towards the voice. Arthur sees a flutter of decorative cloth, dark silk peppered with bright cherry blossom designs.
The new girl’s hair is dark and long, with a bit tied back behind her head by a pale ribbon. Arthur blinks once, twice.
I’ve met you, haven’t I…?
“This human was in the spring! This is a sacred place to spirits!”
“But I don’t mind sharing it with humans! Oh, Ame-warashi, why can’t you be a bit kinder to them…”
I have. I’ve heard that voice before.
“I am kind to them!”
“You’re polite to him, but not the others!”
Arthur feels something click into place.
“…Zashiki-warashi?”
Both girls stop arguing and turn to look at him. Arthur looks up at Zashiki-warashi. There. He feels it.
He knows she does when her own eyes widen.
“Kirkland-san…? And that’s - that’s Honda-dono, isn’t it?”
It is her. It’s the child that Arthur shouted at and chased around Kiku’s house; it’s the girl that Kiku claimed he couldn’t see. There are things he wants to ask her, so many things he wants to say. But the only thing to come out is a choked, desperate plea.
“Please,” he says, nodding. “He’s dying, Zashiki-warashi. Help him.”
___
Endnotes: On the kink meme, I divided up the chapters by worlds, so that they were all more like "arcs." I'm going to try to break those up into smaller chapters here so that they're both smaller and flow a bit more smoothly. Also, they're easier and quicker to read.
Comments are always welcome. Thanks for reading!