I don’t think Artie has a full shilling anymore honestly. Absolutely bonkers. I manage to fight my way out and all he’s managed to do is just get out of a grand damn war! This is the part I do not miss about this world. The rest of the nations didn’t even realize I’d been gone. Artie’s precious Alfred is still ignorant of everything, which amuses, terrifies, and delights him to no end. I will never get what’s going on with those two. I wonder if Alfred realizes I overload my language with slang just to piss him off… Anyways, I am getting away from Artie’s crazy British Empire business as soon as I readjust to normal life. It’s… exhilarating to feel the hum of land and people directly in your veins. Underhill, I always felt it, sometimes forgot about it, but it was always muted. Right now all the dizzying emotions are tumbling over me like… like bard’s song without rest or reprieve. I’ve been away too long. But I’m done foostering about. Get off my lazy arse and do something for my country for the first time in five hundred years… blimey. It’s been a while. Well, around nine hundred for Darren, and one for Jamie.
I’m still not sure how I got out exactly, and while it’s funny to see how much it bothers Artie, I wish I could help more. Those weird Indian magics are odd as well. And… well, perhaps what I found in Artie’s basement best not be mentioned here.
I looked at Arthur’s little portraits of each of us, and it’s very close to how we used to look. Just not now. Underhill changes a person. I wonder what Mam looked like before. Arthur’s portrait is very incomplete.
Arthur shouldn’t spend so much time casting protections around everyone he knows. Caring is not an advantage with the Unseelie Court. Artie doesn’t care apparently, and won’t take my advice. He even cast one on me the other day. I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.
Artie’s lost his Empire, but got himself a fella instead. I’m officially an independent country by the by, but Artie knew it was coming and was generally very cordial about it. Perhaps he’s too worn out by the war to care.
Artie is taking protection to ridiculous extremes with Alfred. I mean honestly man… And their puppy love is disgusting. This probably isn’t the best place to complain about those two, but really! It’s also that I feel close to Darren and Jamie in this little book. It’s odd, to go from seeing one’s brothers every day for hundreds of years, and then suddenly having only baby Artie. It’s… very lonely, actually. At least Artie’s boy toy makes him forget about the fact that I can’t help him that much, in the remembering or the rescuing. I rarely wish I had more of a connection to my magic. But I wish I at least had faerie friends to talk to. I wonder what my familiar would be.
Alfred looked up, a little stunned. Well, he had some questions answered now. “So… so you came back?”
Connall glared at him. “What does it say there boyo? Yes, I managed to escape. Or perhaps I was allowed. Who knows?” Connall began to pace, tracing a well worn route in the carpet. “Do you see now what you’re getting into? How futile this whole thing is? How you’re practically giving up everything in this world to be enthralled at the Unseelie Court?”
“I won’t be enthralled.” Alfred said, running his hands over his thin arms, voice steady though his thoughts were running around like squirrels in his head. “I have natural defenses too.”
“Aye, that you do.” Connall said, stopping short and looking at him up and down. “You have your ridiculous amount of iron, and you are the most magicless person I have ever known. But lad… you don’t have your strength anymore do you?”
It was odd, to hear one of Arthur’s pet names come through lips that were so similar yet so different to his. Alfred stared down at his dress shoes in shame. It hit him again how the one thing that was really special about his was gone. He was suddenly once more aware how his clothes didn’t fit. He felt like Steve Rogers before the super serum.
“Yes, and that’s one more thing I need to get back.” Alfred said lowly. He wasn’t changing his mind. This was going to happen and this was going to succeed.
Connall looked at him, almost past him, once more. His slightly unshaven face twitched once, thick eyebrows pulled together in consideration for but a moment, and then he sprang into action. “Alright, there’s a couple things you need to know and do before you go. C’mere.” Connall took several short, quick strides back to Alfred’s loveseat, grabbed his wrist firmly, and pulled him up. Alfred stumbled once, and then followed Connall’s fast pace out of the room.
Alfred trailed after him curiously. He had never been inside Connall’s inner sanctum before. He had only seen around four rooms in the entire house before, most from the disastrous dinner a few years ago with Arthur. There was the entryway, where everything had been fine, and then the conversation in the living room where Alfred had understood about half of what Connall said, and then dining room and kitchen, where the food, jointly cooked by all of them, had simply been awful, and the worst thing Alfred had tasted in a long time. He had taken great pains to show that he still ate it though. It was really odd too, because Arthur’s cooking had actually been improving lately, and he had lost some of his tendency to overspice and oversalt everything. But then it had come back in full force, and Alfred had been too late to save the asparagus, for Arthur had dumped the full 26 oz container (yes, he had looked afterwards), into the mix. At least Alfred’s cookies had been okay, in the end. Though for weeks afterwards, Arthur had continued to oversalt… Alfred’s mind wandered back to Crowe’s comment about salt in the food, and suddenly it clicked. Arthur had been salting to protect them from the Unseelie Court (he still wasn’t sure exactly what this whole court business was, so he made a mental note to ask Connall). Alfred felt a rush of affection for Arthur, who had endured the world’s taunts for years. Perhaps, given what he’d found out about Connall being stolen away Underhill, right that’s what they’d called it, Arthur had been trying to protect his brother again, even simply through food. It was oddly reassuring, in a way…
Bang! Alfred was interrupted from his memories by knocking his head into a low doorframe, and he yelped in pain, rubbing his forehead with his forearm, glaring at the wooden arches, covered in runes and designs. Ahead of him, he heard a snort of laughter, along with the call of “Watch your nob!” Alfred sighed, resigned to his fate, ducked his head and continued on.
Up and around and down they went, twisting through passageways and slightly low ceilings that Alfred had to duck to make sure he didn’t hit his head again. After two minutes, Alfred was curious about how big the house was, and again suspected that Connall was simply leading him around to mess with him.
Finally, Alfred turned a corner and almost ran into Connall, who was muttering under his breath, hand hovering above the doorknob of an ancient looking door. Connall finished what he was saying, and Alfred heard a click, and the door swung inwards. Alfred’s jaw dropped. So this was magic, real magic. Why was Connall doing so much more than Alfred had ever seen Arthur doing? None of his locks were like this. “Connall…” Alfred asked, voicing his thoughts, and trying to be very careful about it, “How come you’re doing so much magic, when the book says you… well, you can’t?”
Connall’s face twisted an ugly shade and then sighed. “Come in and I’ll explain it to you.” Alfred followed behind obediently, and was immediately awestruck. The walls of the room were painted, spelled, whatever, so that there seemed to be a living forest all around them, complete with small bird sounds and the rustling of wind. The chest of drawers and a long, thick wooden table seemed both intimately right and incredibly out of place. Connall was rummaging around in the drawer second from the bottom, finally pulling out five glasses and, strangely, a bag of barley. He plunked them all down on the table with a satisfying, dull noise. Alfred sat in one of the chairs across from him, curious about everything in this amazing room.
“This,” Connall said, holding up one of the glasses, “is you.” He moved it forward and to Alfred’s far right. “You are completely free of even a drop of magic, by some freak of nature. Even your brother has a little. Everyone has a little, but it’s so small they don’t notice it normally. But you have nothing, just your bizarre strength, which seems to be tied to you personally as opposed to some sort of magical well inside you. You, boyo, are a deviation, a mutation, a deformity. But you seem to be getting on fine, so it’s alright.”
Connall held up the next glass. “This is me.” Connall extracted two grains of barley and dropped them with a plinking noise into the next glass, which he placed to the left of Alfred’s. “More than most people, not enough to do much with. I can do very simple spells, and I have to rest between them. What you saw is something Darren set up for me years ago. That locking spell is incredibly powerful, but I only have to provide the key, and I’m in. Very little magic goes into the actual opening. Arthur has rooms like that, you just probably haven’t seen them. He, after all, has to keep up appearances.” Connall sighed, and reached for the next glass.
“This is Jamie.” Connall grabbed a handful of barley and filled the glass three-quarters full. “This is Artie.” Connall filled the fourth glass up to the brim. “And this, this is Darren.” Connall slid the last glass forward and hefted the bag a little. The barley came spilling out, rushing in a flurry of brown and yellow till the glass was overflowing and completely buried. “He’s ridiculously powerful, and his time with the fae has only made it worse. He is the most magical nation, or human for that matter, on the planet. Darren practically breathes magic.” Connall picked up a grain and played with it in his fingertips. “Now, that also works against him. The Unseelie Court, in their relative brilliance, use all of their magics to hold them prisoner there. ‘Course, the more magic they have, the stronger the bonds are. I’m still not sure how, but I think that’s how I got out, since I have so little to begin with. But who knows? The fae sure aren’t telling.” Connall looked through Alfred again. “Any questions?”
Alfred’s head was spinning, and he stared at the barley. What? This was just… what? Alright. Alfred took a deep breath. Barley equals magic. More barley equals more magic. Darren has a lot. That was… pretty much it. Alfred shook his head hesitantly, sliding his glasses up his nose with his middle finger.
“Good man.” Connall moved past him, clapping him forcefully on the shoulder as he went by. Alfred jerked with the impact, and his throat went suddenly dry as he realized that wouldn’t have happened before. Alfred blinked, willing away the feeling of loss once more. “Fore!” came the shout, and Alfred caught a necklace that came sailing his way. As Alfred slowly examined it, he felt a thrill of joy that his baseball reflexes were still there.
Connall came ambling back, a slight smile on his face. “That there is a magical detection amulet. Here, put it on, let’s see if it works for you, given you have none. Give it here.” Alfred looked up into Connall’s fond eyes curiously, and placed the strung clay pendant in his palm. He wondered what it would do exactly. “Now close your eyes.”
Alfred did as he was told, and felt Connall drape the necklace over him. “Open.” Alfred gasped audibly, awed by everything around him. The room was an intricate lace and detail of swirls and runes and patterns all glowing in a soft blue light. It seemed almost alive, with currents of light running playfully and non-uniformly around their rings and knots. Alfred stood unconsciously and spun, mouth open slightly, trying to look at everything at once. The barley grains on the table glowed green, oh and look at that the door was a beautiful bright purple. Alfred looked at Connall, and was amazed at the soft white light that filled his person. It was… beautiful… Alfred looked down at himself. Nothing. Well no, the amulet was softly blue, but other than that… nothing. It made him… immensely disappointed.
“See?” Connall whispered, softly, conscious of his state. “That’s why you’re so beautiful to the Unseelie. You aren’t a drop fae. And that, to all of us that have some blood, is lovely. Oh, to be sure, you’re handsome on your own, with yon locks of gold and whatnot. But you’re peaceful, and normal, and completely yourself, at all times. I know that amulet can’t show it, but your soul is incredibly pure, free from magic’s corruption. What you seewith me,” Connall gestured to himself with a sweep of his hands, “is nothing compared to the others. I have just enough not to be pure, but never enough to be truly impressive. But don’t you see?” Connall went on, a little excited now. “They won’t be able to see you! You’re completely off their radar! That is the only reason I’m letting you go is because you can hide. Artie would kill me otherwise…”
In a flash, Connall pulled the amulet off Alfred’s neck, and the room became instantly normal again. Alfred immediately felt a sense of loss. “Don’t let it bother you, boyo. As appealing as all of this is, you don’t want a part of it. So I have to ask you again, do you want a part of this? Are you completely sure you want to risk everything?” Connall was staring deeply into Alfred’s eyes, something Alfred found incredibly disconcerting. He nodded hesitantly. Connall sighed and turned again. “Just one last thing. See the glasses there?” Connall pointed at the barley. “Added together, you get Crowe.”
Alfred gulped. The reality of what he was about to do was finally setting in. How could he even hope to succeed? He clenched his fists, bitten fingernails biting into his palm. Unconsciously, Alfred’s mind flew back to that moment before Arthur disappeared to Underhill, when his profile was backlit from the rushing winds behind him, beautiful, perfect, smirking, and in all ways utterly Arthur. He had to go. “I’m going.” Alfred said shortly, building up his resolve. He planted his feet firmly on the floor.
Connall looked hard at Alfred. “Look, I’ve always liked you, specky Four-eyes, and just… before you do this very drastic, very stupid thing… Bollocks.” Connall sighed, and then continued. “You know that Artie’s done some very dark magic, and that he’s not as… pure as you, yes?” Connall’s face was unchanging and hard. “In trying to get his magic to equal Crowe’s, he’s done some not good things…”
“My cow died last night, so I don’t need your bull!” Alfred said hotly, righteous indignation welling up inside him on Arthur’s behalf. “If you think that’ll make me stop loving him or abandon him, then you’ve got another thing coming!” Alfred took an aggressive half step forward.
“Alright, alright, cool your bleedin’ handkerchief!” Connall said, holding his hands up. “I’ll let you go on your fool’s errand.” Connall turned, and snatched up the amulet from the table. “Take this, but don’t wear it more than absolutely necessary. It can wear out.” He tossed it underhand to Alfred, and smiled a little feebly. “Best get you off as quickly as possible then. Come on, let’s get you to Brú na Bóinne.”
And here it is! Extra long to make up for the wait. Please comment! I love all comments! Tell me how you like Connall!
This is fantastic! I love the background with the history mixing in with the magic and I love Connell and I love everything! Fabulous! Keep up the good work!
Odd that Connall can't access most of his magic. I can't see why that'd be. Seems very in character that he'd be deliberately annoying to Alfred, though, ha ha.
I liked the explanation for Arthur's determination to unite the 'family', so to speak. And his jealousy of Spain, that was funny. I shall have to steal it.
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Re: Crowe 3f/?
(Anonymous) 2012-07-20 02:23 am (UTC)(link)I’m still not sure how I got out exactly, and while it’s funny to see how much it bothers Artie, I wish I could help more. Those weird Indian magics are odd as well. And… well, perhaps what I found in Artie’s basement best not be mentioned here.
I looked at Arthur’s little portraits of each of us, and it’s very close to how we used to look. Just not now. Underhill changes a person. I wonder what Mam looked like before. Arthur’s portrait is very incomplete.
Arthur shouldn’t spend so much time casting protections around everyone he knows. Caring is not an advantage with the Unseelie Court. Artie doesn’t care apparently, and won’t take my advice. He even cast one on me the other day. I couldn’t bring myself to stop him.
Artie’s lost his Empire, but got himself a fella instead. I’m officially an independent country by the by, but Artie knew it was coming and was generally very cordial about it. Perhaps he’s too worn out by the war to care.
Artie is taking protection to ridiculous extremes with Alfred. I mean honestly man… And their puppy love is disgusting. This probably isn’t the best place to complain about those two, but really! It’s also that I feel close to Darren and Jamie in this little book. It’s odd, to go from seeing one’s brothers every day for hundreds of years, and then suddenly having only baby Artie. It’s… very lonely, actually. At least Artie’s boy toy makes him forget about the fact that I can’t help him that much, in the remembering or the rescuing. I rarely wish I had more of a connection to my magic. But I wish I at least had faerie friends to talk to. I wonder what my familiar would be.
Alfred looked up, a little stunned. Well, he had some questions answered now. “So… so you came back?”
Connall glared at him. “What does it say there boyo? Yes, I managed to escape. Or perhaps I was allowed. Who knows?” Connall began to pace, tracing a well worn route in the carpet. “Do you see now what you’re getting into? How futile this whole thing is? How you’re practically giving up everything in this world to be enthralled at the Unseelie Court?”
“I won’t be enthralled.” Alfred said, running his hands over his thin arms, voice steady though his thoughts were running around like squirrels in his head. “I have natural defenses too.”
“Aye, that you do.” Connall said, stopping short and looking at him up and down. “You have your ridiculous amount of iron, and you are the most magicless person I have ever known. But lad… you don’t have your strength anymore do you?”
It was odd, to hear one of Arthur’s pet names come through lips that were so similar yet so different to his. Alfred stared down at his dress shoes in shame. It hit him again how the one thing that was really special about his was gone. He was suddenly once more aware how his clothes didn’t fit. He felt like Steve Rogers before the super serum.
“Yes, and that’s one more thing I need to get back.” Alfred said lowly. He wasn’t changing his mind. This was going to happen and this was going to succeed.
Crowe 3h/?
(Anonymous) 2012-07-20 02:25 am (UTC)(link)Alfred trailed after him curiously. He had never been inside Connall’s inner sanctum before. He had only seen around four rooms in the entire house before, most from the disastrous dinner a few years ago with Arthur. There was the entryway, where everything had been fine, and then the conversation in the living room where Alfred had understood about half of what Connall said, and then dining room and kitchen, where the food, jointly cooked by all of them, had simply been awful, and the worst thing Alfred had tasted in a long time. He had taken great pains to show that he still ate it though. It was really odd too, because Arthur’s cooking had actually been improving lately, and he had lost some of his tendency to overspice and oversalt everything. But then it had come back in full force, and Alfred had been too late to save the asparagus, for Arthur had dumped the full 26 oz container (yes, he had looked afterwards), into the mix. At least Alfred’s cookies had been okay, in the end. Though for weeks afterwards, Arthur had continued to oversalt… Alfred’s mind wandered back to Crowe’s comment about salt in the food, and suddenly it clicked. Arthur had been salting to protect them from the Unseelie Court (he still wasn’t sure exactly what this whole court business was, so he made a mental note to ask Connall). Alfred felt a rush of affection for Arthur, who had endured the world’s taunts for years. Perhaps, given what he’d found out about Connall being stolen away Underhill, right that’s what they’d called it, Arthur had been trying to protect his brother again, even simply through food. It was oddly reassuring, in a way…
Bang! Alfred was interrupted from his memories by knocking his head into a low doorframe, and he yelped in pain, rubbing his forehead with his forearm, glaring at the wooden arches, covered in runes and designs. Ahead of him, he heard a snort of laughter, along with the call of “Watch your nob!” Alfred sighed, resigned to his fate, ducked his head and continued on.
Up and around and down they went, twisting through passageways and slightly low ceilings that Alfred had to duck to make sure he didn’t hit his head again. After two minutes, Alfred was curious about how big the house was, and again suspected that Connall was simply leading him around to mess with him.
Finally, Alfred turned a corner and almost ran into Connall, who was muttering under his breath, hand hovering above the doorknob of an ancient looking door. Connall finished what he was saying, and Alfred heard a click, and the door swung inwards. Alfred’s jaw dropped. So this was magic, real magic. Why was Connall doing so much more than Alfred had ever seen Arthur doing? None of his locks were like this. “Connall…” Alfred asked, voicing his thoughts, and trying to be very careful about it, “How come you’re doing so much magic, when the book says you… well, you can’t?”
Connall’s face twisted an ugly shade and then sighed. “Come in and I’ll explain it to you.” Alfred followed behind obediently, and was immediately awestruck. The walls of the room were painted, spelled, whatever, so that there seemed to be a living forest all around them, complete with small bird sounds and the rustling of wind. The chest of drawers and a long, thick wooden table seemed both intimately right and incredibly out of place. Connall was rummaging around in the drawer second from the bottom, finally pulling out five glasses and, strangely, a bag of barley. He plunked them all down on the table with a satisfying, dull noise. Alfred sat in one of the chairs across from him, curious about everything in this amazing room.
Crowe 3i/?
(Anonymous) 2012-07-20 02:26 am (UTC)(link)Connall held up the next glass. “This is me.” Connall extracted two grains of barley and dropped them with a plinking noise into the next glass, which he placed to the left of Alfred’s. “More than most people, not enough to do much with. I can do very simple spells, and I have to rest between them. What you saw is something Darren set up for me years ago. That locking spell is incredibly powerful, but I only have to provide the key, and I’m in. Very little magic goes into the actual opening. Arthur has rooms like that, you just probably haven’t seen them. He, after all, has to keep up appearances.” Connall sighed, and reached for the next glass.
“This is Jamie.” Connall grabbed a handful of barley and filled the glass three-quarters full. “This is Artie.” Connall filled the fourth glass up to the brim. “And this, this is Darren.” Connall slid the last glass forward and hefted the bag a little. The barley came spilling out, rushing in a flurry of brown and yellow till the glass was overflowing and completely buried. “He’s ridiculously powerful, and his time with the fae has only made it worse. He is the most magical nation, or human for that matter, on the planet. Darren practically breathes magic.” Connall picked up a grain and played with it in his fingertips. “Now, that also works against him. The Unseelie Court, in their relative brilliance, use all of their magics to hold them prisoner there. ‘Course, the more magic they have, the stronger the bonds are. I’m still not sure how, but I think that’s how I got out, since I have so little to begin with. But who knows? The fae sure aren’t telling.” Connall looked through Alfred again. “Any questions?”
Alfred’s head was spinning, and he stared at the barley. What? This was just… what? Alright. Alfred took a deep breath. Barley equals magic. More barley equals more magic. Darren has a lot. That was… pretty much it. Alfred shook his head hesitantly, sliding his glasses up his nose with his middle finger.
“Good man.” Connall moved past him, clapping him forcefully on the shoulder as he went by. Alfred jerked with the impact, and his throat went suddenly dry as he realized that wouldn’t have happened before. Alfred blinked, willing away the feeling of loss once more. “Fore!” came the shout, and Alfred caught a necklace that came sailing his way. As Alfred slowly examined it, he felt a thrill of joy that his baseball reflexes were still there.
Connall came ambling back, a slight smile on his face. “That there is a magical detection amulet. Here, put it on, let’s see if it works for you, given you have none. Give it here.” Alfred looked up into Connall’s fond eyes curiously, and placed the strung clay pendant in his palm. He wondered what it would do exactly. “Now close your eyes.”
Alfred did as he was told, and felt Connall drape the necklace over him. “Open.” Alfred gasped audibly, awed by everything around him. The room was an intricate lace and detail of swirls and runes and patterns all glowing in a soft blue light. It seemed almost alive, with currents of light running playfully and non-uniformly around their rings and knots. Alfred stood unconsciously and spun, mouth open slightly, trying to look at everything at once. The barley grains on the table glowed green, oh and look at that the door was a beautiful bright purple. Alfred looked at Connall, and was amazed at the soft white light that filled his person. It was… beautiful… Alfred looked down at himself. Nothing. Well no, the amulet was softly blue, but other than that… nothing. It made him… immensely disappointed.
Crowe 3j/?
(Anonymous) 2012-07-20 02:28 am (UTC)(link)In a flash, Connall pulled the amulet off Alfred’s neck, and the room became instantly normal again. Alfred immediately felt a sense of loss. “Don’t let it bother you, boyo. As appealing as all of this is, you don’t want a part of it. So I have to ask you again, do you want a part of this? Are you completely sure you want to risk everything?” Connall was staring deeply into Alfred’s eyes, something Alfred found incredibly disconcerting. He nodded hesitantly. Connall sighed and turned again. “Just one last thing. See the glasses there?” Connall pointed at the barley. “Added together, you get Crowe.”
Alfred gulped. The reality of what he was about to do was finally setting in. How could he even hope to succeed? He clenched his fists, bitten fingernails biting into his palm. Unconsciously, Alfred’s mind flew back to that moment before Arthur disappeared to Underhill, when his profile was backlit from the rushing winds behind him, beautiful, perfect, smirking, and in all ways utterly Arthur. He had to go. “I’m going.” Alfred said shortly, building up his resolve. He planted his feet firmly on the floor.
Connall looked hard at Alfred. “Look, I’ve always liked you, specky Four-eyes, and just… before you do this very drastic, very stupid thing… Bollocks.” Connall sighed, and then continued. “You know that Artie’s done some very dark magic, and that he’s not as… pure as you, yes?” Connall’s face was unchanging and hard. “In trying to get his magic to equal Crowe’s, he’s done some not good things…”
“My cow died last night, so I don’t need your bull!” Alfred said hotly, righteous indignation welling up inside him on Arthur’s behalf. “If you think that’ll make me stop loving him or abandon him, then you’ve got another thing coming!” Alfred took an aggressive half step forward.
“Alright, alright, cool your bleedin’ handkerchief!” Connall said, holding his hands up. “I’ll let you go on your fool’s errand.” Connall turned, and snatched up the amulet from the table. “Take this, but don’t wear it more than absolutely necessary. It can wear out.” He tossed it underhand to Alfred, and smiled a little feebly. “Best get you off as quickly as possible then. Come on, let’s get you to Brú na Bóinne.”
And here it is! Extra long to make up for the wait. Please comment! I love all comments! Tell me how you like Connall!
Crowe 3j/? AN addition
(Anonymous) 2012-07-20 04:15 am (UTC)(link)Arthur: Italicized Garamond
Darren: Tiranti Solid LET
James: John Handy LET
Connall: ParkAvenue BT
Re: Crowe 3j/? AN addition
(Anonymous) 2012-07-20 04:16 am (UTC)(link)Re: Crowe 3j/? AN addition
(Anonymous) 2012-07-20 06:29 am (UTC)(link)I liked the explanation for Arthur's determination to unite the 'family', so to speak. And his jealousy of Spain, that was funny.
I shall have to steal it.