Fic: The Wild Hunt (1/10)
Fic: The Wild Hunt (1/10)
Author: pen37
Beta: strangevisitor7
Artwork by: chosenfire28
Fandoms: Supernatural, Smallville
Pairing: Chloe/Dean (If you squint)
Rating: Pg
Timeline: For Supernatural: Assumes that everything up to Lazarus Rizing occured. For Smallville: Assumes that Chloe and Jimmy broke it off just before Bride, but that events in Legion occured. Also assumes that Chloe shied away from any relationship with Davis.
Written for the Supernatural Crossover Big Bang at sncross_bigbang
Summary: When an old high school friend contacts Chloe Sullivan about some odd happenings at his job, Chloe agrees to help out -- never realizing that "helping" means wearing a corset. When Sam and Dean check out a disappearance at a Renaissance festival, they don't count on the help of a blonde who knows everything there is to know about paranormal -- but not so much about supernatural. All Renaissance fairs ahve a little magic of their own. But when the magic at this fair goes terribly wrong, it's going to take the three of them combined to solve this case.
A/N: Thanks very much to chosenfire28 for last-minute artwork. It looks awesome!
She and lightthesparks put together icons and manips for this story. You can find them here.
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch. 6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9, Ch.10
The Host is riding from Knocknarea
And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;
Caolte tossing his burning hair
And Niamh calling Away, come away:
-- W. B. Yeats. The Hosting of the Sidhe.
"You're kidding, right?”
Chloe looked in disbelief from the dress hanging on the rack to Chad and back.
Chad shrugged, and tucked his hands in his pockets nonchalantly. “What's wrong with it?”
"It's very… Red,” she said. She picked it up, and held it in front of her. “There is also the matter of the corset.” The dress seemed designed to take what nature had given her, and push it all up under her chin.
"You want to blend in, don't you?”
"I don't think I'm going to blend very well in this,” Chloe said with a frown. “Chad, when I said that I would help you, I didn't think it meant this.”
Chad lowered his head, and then slowly nodded. “Okay Chloe. I'll just let the artistic director know that you can't help.”
"Oh for heaven's sake!” Chloe frowned at that. Chad knew very well that she wouldn't abandon them just because they wanted her to wear a ridiculous, tarty getup. “I said I would help. I just thought that my cover was that I was a paramedic, like you.”
When her healing abilities first kicked in, she'd taken a few first aid classes. Being able to put on a band-aide professionally went a long way toward hiding the fact that she was able to put her hands on someone and heal them. And the bandages themselves often hid the golden glow that accompanied her powers.
"And you are,” Chad said. “But you're at a Renaissance festival, Chloe. Everyone is part of the cast here. And everyone is expected to play a part. So you get to be Cliodhna, Irish healer.”
"Fine!” Chloe snatched back the dress, stepped behind the changing sheet and slipped the Leine over her head. Followed by the skirt and overdress.
As she dressed, she continued to talk to Chad through the sheet.
"By the way, what did you tell the others about me?”
"Just enough,” Chad said. “Most of them know that I'm from Smallville, with all the weirdness that comes with that. I told them that you're from my hometown, and that you investigate the paranormal.”
"At least you didn't mention the witch,” Chloe muttered. Ever since she'd been possessed by the spirit of a French witch with dubious taste in clothing, she'd been sensitive to the presence of magic Not Majick, with crystals and candles and an it harms no one warm fuzzies. But Magic. The old-school stuff. With black-cats choking you in your sleep and milk curdling inside the cow.
Which was probably why Chad thought of her for this gig.
"I was at that party,” Chad said. “We made a pact, remember? What happens in the Kent barn, stays in the Kent barn.”
She exchanged her shoes for a pair of rubber-soled ghillies. Finally, she belted on a leather mug that Chad said she would need before the day was over, and pinned on an insignia that signified that she was an EMT - or Chiurgeon or whatever they called it here. When she stepped back out, Chad grinned at her. “See? You have nothing to worry about. Especially after you see what some of the other women are wearing.”
"You're boosting my self-confidence here, Chad,” Chloe said.
"Oh and wear sunscreen. Because the first time you put your civvies back on with a sunburn on that chest - ouch!”
"I don't burn.” Chloe crossed her arms. “Healing, remember?”
"Right.” Chad turned, and with a grand wave, strode out of the costume tent. “Can you sing?”
Chloe rolled her eyes. “How do I get into these messes?”
She followed him through a maze of twisting buildings, tents and open fields. As they walked, he gave her a basic run-down of what to expect.
"Most of the volunteer cast gets a crash course in faire performance- but since you missed that, you'll have to pick it up as you go along. And most of the cast knows who you are and why you're here. So they'll cover for you and hopefully give you direction when you need it. The important part is to stay in character and mind your thees and thous. The theme for the fair is the visit of Grace O'Malley to Queen Elizabeth. Which is basically an excuse to have Pirate and Celtic themes throughout the weekend.”
Chloe had already taken the time to familiarize herself with the site. The faire was laid out like a giant wagon wheel. The hub of which was a large tournament field - where the jousting and hawking shows took place. Main gate - the other end of the grounds from the cast entrance was where the castle was, along with the first aide station where she would report in
"The hours are marked by canon fire. We have a cast meeting every morning before first canon. Which is at 8:00 am. Last canon is at 7:00 pm. At which point, we herd the guests out of the place. Privies are on the left. Food booths are on the right.” He turned, and handed her a pouch that jingled. Chloe opened it, and pulled out a plastic coin. She squinted at it, and made out the image of Queen Elizabeth on the side.
"Coin of the realm,” Chad said. “Each of the performers gets a bag when the faire starts, and the management hands out more as attaboys through the month of weekends that we're open.”
"Hopefully I'll have this wrapped up before then,” Chloe said as she tucked the pouch onto the belt next to her mug.
"One can hope,” Chad agreed. “At any rate, the food merchants accept them, so you can use them to defray expenses. And some of the other Rennies might give you one from time to time as thanks for what you're doing.”
Just then, they walked past a hollow in a hillside. The sign in front of it said Farie Grotto. As Chloe passed in front of it, she felt as if her blood was filled with iron filings, and she had just stepped on a magnet. She turned, and stared into the hollow. A chill crept down her spine.
"You feel it too?” Chad asked.
Chloe nodded slowly. You didn't forget a feeling like that. Old magic. The bad kind.
"Come on.” Chad took her arm, and steered her toward the castle. “You can go poking for eldritch nastiness later.
With a slow nod, Chloe turned, and followed Chad up the hill toward the castle stage.
* * *
The castle stage was laid out like a giant chessboard. When Chad pointed it out, he explained that the local stage combat club held a battle chess match throughout the faire weekend.
"They're going to move it out of the castle next year,” he told her. “It draws a huge audience, and the castle can't keep up with all the guests at once.”
Chloe nodded absently as she looked around. The room was quickly filling with the cast of the Beltane Renaissance faire. Some were already garbed in peasant outfits similar to her own; although some had not yet changed, and a few more wore finery that marked them as the nobility. These few stood apart from the massed crowd - as if afraid to risk hoop skirts and swords in a crowded area. On one corner of the stage, a cluster of gypsies stood out in jewel-toned, exotic finery. Now and then a coin belt tinkled musically as they shifted their weight.
All around her, the cast members were being pressed into service tying on that bit of costume, lacing up this corset and pinning up that hat. More than one cast member looked half-asleep. A few of them clutched foam Starbucks cups and here or there, Chloe thought she could spot a cruller.
Chloe's gaze shifted as Chad hailed a man in a doublet and pillow-like hat.
"This is Connor O'Flaherty, chief of the Brute Squad.”
"The brute squad?” Chloe raised an eyebrow.
"He means site security, mi'lady. Most of the cast is organized into squadrons, crews or guilds.” Conner removed his hat with a flourish, and kissed Chloe's hand. “And who might you be?”
"For the weekend, I suppose my name is Cliodhna O'Sullivan,” Chloe grinned, warming to the gesture.
“Chloe's here to help us with our little problem,” Chad said.
Connor looked at her shrewdly. “This is the friend that you told us about? You didn't tell us she was so pretty.”
"Probably because I wanted to save her from your silver-tongued blandishment,” Chad rolled his eyes. “Seriously man, she's not fresh meat.”
"If she's here to take care of our problem, then she can take care of herself,” Connor grinned. Abruptly, his smile wavered. “Incidentally, do you know what our problem is?”
"Not yet,” Chloe said. “But I just got here.”
"You're in good hands, Connor.” Chad patted Chloe's shoulder.
"I'd like to be.” Connor waggled his eyebrows at her.
"And on that note,” Chad turned Chloe bodily away, and steered her toward the other side of the room. “Let's meet the head of the medics.” As they walked away, Chad muttered to her under his breath. “Stay way from guys like Connor. He likes to prey on rookies.”
"I know the type.” Chloe grinned wryly. “I'm not star-struck enough to fall for the act.”
Chad pulled her into a tall man dressed as a pirate. Chloe noticed that he wore an insignia similar to the one that Chad had given her.
"Bjorn, this is Cliodhna. She's the one I was telling you about. Chloe, this is Bjorn Hammersmith. He's chief of the Order of St. Brigid - that's the medics -- for the site.”
"Chliodhna,” he also took her hand in his and kissed it. The corner of Chloe's lip rose. She was going to have to get used to this.
With the formalities out of the way, Bjorn looked at her with a shrewd, appraising look. “You've had medical training.”
Chloe nodded. “I'm a certified first responder,” Chloe said. “I've completed 45 hours of training with the Red Cross.”
Bjorn nodded thoughtfully. “That'll do,” he said. Then he unclipped a small two-way from his belt and handed it to her. “Mostly, you'll encounter dehydration, sunstrokes and the occasional sprained ankle. Make sure and drink plenty of water, so that you're not the one who we're treating for dehydration.”
Chloe smiled brightly. “Yes sir.”
Her attention was drawn away again as a short, round man clutching a rubber chicken and whistling a Kazoo stepped up to the stage. When he had everyone's attention, he pulled the Kazoo out of his mouth and grinned at them. “Good Morning!”
"Good Morning!” the group called back with enthusiasm. Chloe looked around in surprise. They all seemed excited to get the show on the road. Even Chad had a half-crazed grin on his face. Chloe let the ho-ra about the new season and the introductions slide in one ear and out the other as she looked around the room.
She noted that more than one person had some small bit of iron on their costume: from gypsy coins to a nail stuck in a buttonhole. Every one of them knew, or at least suspected, that something was amiss.
"And I would like to point out our newest member of the order of St. Brigid: Cliodhna O'Sullivan. Chloe is here to help us with the little problem in the fairee grotto. I know that you all will do your best to assist her.”
Every eye in the place turned to Chloe. She shifted uncomfortably, and wished that she'd told Chad to be more discreet about her presence, in case the problem stemmed from a member of the staff. She tried to duck the stares as she pretended to pay attention to announcements.
Act intimidated by the pirates. Be respectful of the militia. Don't injure yourself while groveling at the monarchy. Try to remain in character while in public areas. Keep the jokes clean for short humans. There's a lot to remember while putting on one of these things.
Chloe's train of thought was broken as the assembled crowd stood and began to meander away. She looked at Chad in confusion.
"The day is starting,” he said. “You can probably begin your investigation after opening ceremonies.” Then he handed her a hand-forged nail on a leather thong. “The blacksmith is giving these out for free. We're hoping that the presence of cold iron will discourage whatever is out there from preying on our guests.
Chloe put the thong around her neck, and tucked the nail into her bodice. “Couldn't hurt.” She resolved to pay a visit to the blacksmith's shop later to see what else the group was doing to protect the patrons of the faire.