(no subject)
In which there is arguement, for great woe.
“You did what?!”
“Told Meligot I’d train the new boy,” Alden said again, attempting to keep his voice level, even if Finn didn’t. “It’s quite logical.”
“It’s logical?” Finn repeated. He had Alden backed up against one of the walls, arms on either side of his body, face twisted in an unhappy expression Alden wasn’t used to seeing on his face, and certainly hadn’t wanted to be seeing this soon after being released from the medical ward. “Logical?”
“Yes,” Alden said, as calmly as he could. “Someone needs to watch the boy. I’m between missions and uninjured. I also have the advantage of being a ruthless bastard when I want, so if he ever does anything he shouldn’t, I won’t dither about killing him. Besides this, he has the same sort of magical talent we do, and I certainly don’t want him accidentally blowing everything up. Imagine if you’d gone nineteen years and had all your magic dropped on you in one go. More than just walking bathtubs, I should think. It’s necessary as well as logical, if we don’t want to be killed.”
“You are not,” Finn said through his teeth, “uninjured, if you care to remember that you had a knife stabbed into that shoulder twice and two weeks’ worth of poking at it by medics. You still wince when I touch it. Furthermore-”
“For God’s sake,” Alden interrupted tiredly, “by uninjured I mean not in Lien Jung’s position and the like. Possibly I should have added that I’m perhaps the one person here who is willing to do this? I’m not well enough for a real mission yet, but I can certainly make myself useful.”
Finn dropped his hands and turned away, stalking over to the door. “I’m going to the garden,” he said tightly, and shut the door hard.
Alden didn’t get Finn any roses. That was idiotic and Finn wouldn’t have appreciated him pulling up the flowers.
In any case, something like roses would have implied Alden knew he was apologising for something. Which he didn’t. Because exactly why the hell Finn was so angry, he didn’t know.
Finn was trying to avoid him. He usually sat on the ground by the roses, not in the branches of the willow tree, which quite effectively hid him from Alden’s sight the first two times he passed by.
“Finn,” Alden said exasperatedly on the third go, staring up through the greenery at the boy, “what the hell have I done that merits you hiding up a bloody willow?”
“Do I need to say it again?” Finn snapped down at him.
“I think so,” said Alden, and because if Finn was angry enough to push him out of a tree then he probably didn’t want to be in said tree with Finn in the first place, he saw nothing to lose in grabbing one of the lower branches and swinging himself up into the foliage. “So far I have deduced that you don’t want me to have anything to do with the new boy. The why of it, I’m not so clear on.”
“Because he’s in with the people who stabbed you and used Theirn and Juilliard and Isaac as a canvas for pretty designs!” Finn yelled down at him. He turned his face away, half-hidden by branches and greenery.
“Which is why I need to keep an eye on him,” Alden said quietly after a moment. “He’s here, and unless you want to outright murder the lad, here he stays until he does something obviously traitorous. He gave a good enough argument for Meligot to let him in. Take it up with her if you must.”
“I know better than to try and talk to Meligot when she’s made up her mind,” Finn snapped. “And she’s already brought him here; he can’t go back now. You’re both mad as all fuck.”
“Well then, I suppose I’d just kill him now so you can feel better,” Alden snapped, losing his temper.
“That’d be the smart thing to do!” Finn yelled.
“You do it, then,” Alden said coldly. “Go on. Go kill a nineteen-year-old boy who just willingly gave himself up to us.”
Finn didn’t answer. He was perched in the crook of two branches, turned completely away from Alden now; arms wrapped around his knees.
“So perhaps you see the problem,” Alden said softly. “I don’t know what you may have heard about me, but I’ve never killed anyone without a reason. Perhaps he’ll give me a reason. Good. And perhaps he won’t. Even better. In that case, I will have been wrong about him and I won’t ever have to dream of him screaming.”
He climbed out of the tree, shaking a little.
“I want to meet him,” Finn said, voice faint now that Alden was on the ground.
Alden tipped his head back up to squint at Finn. “And?”
“And I want to meet him,” Finn returned, irritated again. “I don’t know what else.”
“How nice for you,” Alden said politely, and leaned back against the tree, rubbing his face. “Please come down, Finn.”
“Why?”
“Because somewhere along the way I think we lost sight of exactly why we’re so angry with each other,” Alden said, staring at the leaf mould on the ground. “And it’s really far more rewarding to yell in someone’s face than give them cold silence from the top of a tree.”
“For you, maybe.” But there was a rustling of branches from above him and Finn dropped lithely to the ground in front of Alden, face drawn and composed.
“Now,” Alden said gently, “you’re busy being angry with me because you’re worried I’m being stupid? Or because you hate the boy by association and think I should have nothing to do with him?” He swallowed hard and looked away. “Or possibly because being happy I’m back for more than a day is an impossibility. I’m beginning to suspect your tolerance of me is inversely proportional to how much of a bastard I am.”
“Do you think that?” Finn drawled. His voice turned bitter. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stick the knife in and twist it, then.”
“I was hoping that perhaps if I started being a bastard again, you might come to your senses,” Alden said, very quietly, and his voice nearly didn’t tremble. “As it is, I’ve had more than enough of knives. I imagine you might recall that.”
Finn turned away. “I’m going to my room,” he said softly. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, I expect.”
Alden grabbed Finn’s wrist. “Don’t. God. Dammit, Finn.”
“Don’t-” Finn went still and tense, glaring up at Alden. “Let me go, Alden.”
“No,” Alden said evenly. “You’re not going to walk off like this. Not over some kid. I don’t know what the hell this is about and if it’s still about Atherton and I still think you’re being unreasonable and possibly didn’t listen to a damn word I said, but you’re not walking away on me, because if it comes to that I’d rather kill the boy and dream about that for a month then let you go and have that with me forever.”
He let go of Finn and turned away.
“Damn you,” Finn whispered, and caught Alden from behind in a tight hug. “I worry too much about you,” he said quietly, into Alden’s shoulder. “And anything-or anyone-connected to those pirates is someone I dislike intensely. And you are,” he murmured wryly, “always very ready to put yourself in the middle of the worst dangers.”
Alden turned a little, giving Finn a wry little grin over his shoulder. “Because life isn’t precious enough otherwise, you see. Now. Am I allowed to do this?”
“I doubt I could stop you,” Finn said, and released him, stepping back. “I still don’t like it, though.”
“No more than do I, I expect,” Alden murmured, turning. “You understand that it does mean you’ll be spending some time with the boy too-or at least I expect so, if this is how your concern for me is going to manifest itself. Do you think you can refrain from maiming the lad?”
“Probably. When are you going to start training him?”
“I don’t know. Meligot wants to see him again tomorrow-see what information he can give us, I think-so possibly then, or the day after. Soon.”
“All right.” Finn nodded, and rather apologetically stepped up to stand next to him, shoulder brushing Alden’s. “It’s not late yet, but we ought to get back to our rooms.”
Alden smiled and laced one of his hands in Finn’s. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Come on, then.”
“You did what?!”
“Told Meligot I’d train the new boy,” Alden said again, attempting to keep his voice level, even if Finn didn’t. “It’s quite logical.”
“It’s logical?” Finn repeated. He had Alden backed up against one of the walls, arms on either side of his body, face twisted in an unhappy expression Alden wasn’t used to seeing on his face, and certainly hadn’t wanted to be seeing this soon after being released from the medical ward. “Logical?”
“Yes,” Alden said, as calmly as he could. “Someone needs to watch the boy. I’m between missions and uninjured. I also have the advantage of being a ruthless bastard when I want, so if he ever does anything he shouldn’t, I won’t dither about killing him. Besides this, he has the same sort of magical talent we do, and I certainly don’t want him accidentally blowing everything up. Imagine if you’d gone nineteen years and had all your magic dropped on you in one go. More than just walking bathtubs, I should think. It’s necessary as well as logical, if we don’t want to be killed.”
“You are not,” Finn said through his teeth, “uninjured, if you care to remember that you had a knife stabbed into that shoulder twice and two weeks’ worth of poking at it by medics. You still wince when I touch it. Furthermore-”
“For God’s sake,” Alden interrupted tiredly, “by uninjured I mean not in Lien Jung’s position and the like. Possibly I should have added that I’m perhaps the one person here who is willing to do this? I’m not well enough for a real mission yet, but I can certainly make myself useful.”
Finn dropped his hands and turned away, stalking over to the door. “I’m going to the garden,” he said tightly, and shut the door hard.
Alden didn’t get Finn any roses. That was idiotic and Finn wouldn’t have appreciated him pulling up the flowers.
In any case, something like roses would have implied Alden knew he was apologising for something. Which he didn’t. Because exactly why the hell Finn was so angry, he didn’t know.
Finn was trying to avoid him. He usually sat on the ground by the roses, not in the branches of the willow tree, which quite effectively hid him from Alden’s sight the first two times he passed by.
“Finn,” Alden said exasperatedly on the third go, staring up through the greenery at the boy, “what the hell have I done that merits you hiding up a bloody willow?”
“Do I need to say it again?” Finn snapped down at him.
“I think so,” said Alden, and because if Finn was angry enough to push him out of a tree then he probably didn’t want to be in said tree with Finn in the first place, he saw nothing to lose in grabbing one of the lower branches and swinging himself up into the foliage. “So far I have deduced that you don’t want me to have anything to do with the new boy. The why of it, I’m not so clear on.”
“Because he’s in with the people who stabbed you and used Theirn and Juilliard and Isaac as a canvas for pretty designs!” Finn yelled down at him. He turned his face away, half-hidden by branches and greenery.
“Which is why I need to keep an eye on him,” Alden said quietly after a moment. “He’s here, and unless you want to outright murder the lad, here he stays until he does something obviously traitorous. He gave a good enough argument for Meligot to let him in. Take it up with her if you must.”
“I know better than to try and talk to Meligot when she’s made up her mind,” Finn snapped. “And she’s already brought him here; he can’t go back now. You’re both mad as all fuck.”
“Well then, I suppose I’d just kill him now so you can feel better,” Alden snapped, losing his temper.
“That’d be the smart thing to do!” Finn yelled.
“You do it, then,” Alden said coldly. “Go on. Go kill a nineteen-year-old boy who just willingly gave himself up to us.”
Finn didn’t answer. He was perched in the crook of two branches, turned completely away from Alden now; arms wrapped around his knees.
“So perhaps you see the problem,” Alden said softly. “I don’t know what you may have heard about me, but I’ve never killed anyone without a reason. Perhaps he’ll give me a reason. Good. And perhaps he won’t. Even better. In that case, I will have been wrong about him and I won’t ever have to dream of him screaming.”
He climbed out of the tree, shaking a little.
“I want to meet him,” Finn said, voice faint now that Alden was on the ground.
Alden tipped his head back up to squint at Finn. “And?”
“And I want to meet him,” Finn returned, irritated again. “I don’t know what else.”
“How nice for you,” Alden said politely, and leaned back against the tree, rubbing his face. “Please come down, Finn.”
“Why?”
“Because somewhere along the way I think we lost sight of exactly why we’re so angry with each other,” Alden said, staring at the leaf mould on the ground. “And it’s really far more rewarding to yell in someone’s face than give them cold silence from the top of a tree.”
“For you, maybe.” But there was a rustling of branches from above him and Finn dropped lithely to the ground in front of Alden, face drawn and composed.
“Now,” Alden said gently, “you’re busy being angry with me because you’re worried I’m being stupid? Or because you hate the boy by association and think I should have nothing to do with him?” He swallowed hard and looked away. “Or possibly because being happy I’m back for more than a day is an impossibility. I’m beginning to suspect your tolerance of me is inversely proportional to how much of a bastard I am.”
“Do you think that?” Finn drawled. His voice turned bitter. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stick the knife in and twist it, then.”
“I was hoping that perhaps if I started being a bastard again, you might come to your senses,” Alden said, very quietly, and his voice nearly didn’t tremble. “As it is, I’ve had more than enough of knives. I imagine you might recall that.”
Finn turned away. “I’m going to my room,” he said softly. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow, I expect.”
Alden grabbed Finn’s wrist. “Don’t. God. Dammit, Finn.”
“Don’t-” Finn went still and tense, glaring up at Alden. “Let me go, Alden.”
“No,” Alden said evenly. “You’re not going to walk off like this. Not over some kid. I don’t know what the hell this is about and if it’s still about Atherton and I still think you’re being unreasonable and possibly didn’t listen to a damn word I said, but you’re not walking away on me, because if it comes to that I’d rather kill the boy and dream about that for a month then let you go and have that with me forever.”
He let go of Finn and turned away.
“Damn you,” Finn whispered, and caught Alden from behind in a tight hug. “I worry too much about you,” he said quietly, into Alden’s shoulder. “And anything-or anyone-connected to those pirates is someone I dislike intensely. And you are,” he murmured wryly, “always very ready to put yourself in the middle of the worst dangers.”
Alden turned a little, giving Finn a wry little grin over his shoulder. “Because life isn’t precious enough otherwise, you see. Now. Am I allowed to do this?”
“I doubt I could stop you,” Finn said, and released him, stepping back. “I still don’t like it, though.”
“No more than do I, I expect,” Alden murmured, turning. “You understand that it does mean you’ll be spending some time with the boy too-or at least I expect so, if this is how your concern for me is going to manifest itself. Do you think you can refrain from maiming the lad?”
“Probably. When are you going to start training him?”
“I don’t know. Meligot wants to see him again tomorrow-see what information he can give us, I think-so possibly then, or the day after. Soon.”
“All right.” Finn nodded, and rather apologetically stepped up to stand next to him, shoulder brushing Alden’s. “It’s not late yet, but we ought to get back to our rooms.”
Alden smiled and laced one of his hands in Finn’s. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Come on, then.”