[Birthday fic for Mockingboots] - Last Chance pt. 2
Part One
Part Two
A/n: thanks to Kay the Beta for help with this part. You’re awesome!
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By the time they reached the village in the early afternoon, Arthur was about to kill himself. Alfred had unwittingly opened the well of infinite boredom that was Greene when he started talking, but rather than wishing to stab his ears with pointy stakes, he seemed enthralled. Greene had not only gone through the whole story of his life before that day, but also a good few Escanar folk tales and the entire origin story of the Dragonriders. It had been the longest cart ride of Arthur’s life.
He slid off the end of the cart as soon as it stopped, paid the driver and stumbled off to find an inn and order a room. Alfred hurried after him, Greene perched on his shoulder - the little green traitor - laughing with the wolpertinger quite cheerfully. It made him sick, really. Greene should have known better than to fraternise with the enemy.
But Alfred wasn’t the enemy, was he? As much as Arthur found him annoying, he didn’t quite hate him. He didn’t suppose anyone could truly hate the lad, he was far too… likeable. However, Arthur certainly wouldn’t be won over as easily as his familiar. He had principles, after all.
He found an inn, and it was practically empty. A woman who was darning clothes, a small boy and a large dog sat in front of the common room fireplace. A man, obviously the innkeeper, was behind the counter, cleaning some beer mugs with a cloth. The only other patrons were two dwarves, who sat in corner smoking their pipes and speaking in their own tongue.
“A double?” Arthur asked.
“Four shields,” the man said, accepting Arthur’s money with a brief smile. “What brings a mage to these parts at this time of year?”
Alfred answered before Arthur could. “We need to cross the mountains. There are villages in trouble on the other side.”
The innkeeper looked very serious all of a sudden. Near the fireplace, his wife made the Elder Goddess’s sign over her face.
“When will ye be leaving?” he asked.
“Tomorrow, if it doesn’t snow,” Arthur replied. He took the key to their room and headed up the stairs, followed by Alfred. The creaking of floorboards was deafening in the tough silence that once again fallen.
The room was clean and well-kept - being a village along a main trade route through the mountains made for good business, and the innkeeper obviously took pride in his work. Alfred dumped his pack on the floor, propped his sword in the corner and threw himself on the bed nearest the door. Greene alighted on the bedpost, yawning.
“So, what do we do now?” Alfred asked. “Before tomorrow?”
Arthur shrugged. “Buy some more supplies, if we can, and then get a good night’s sleep.” He sat on his own bed, staring at the floor. All he could think about was tomorrow. Would they even be able to cross the mountains? The pass was sure to be completely blocked at this time of year… They would probably die halfway. Maybe that was a better fate than the one on the other side. As much as he did not want to leave a fellow mage to surely die, he could not help but be absolutely terrified. He wondered how Alfred could be so calm, although he realised he himself was not exactly a nervous wreck externally. Perhaps setting himself to do something would take his mind off it.
“I’m going to see what I can find,” he said. Alfred sat up.
“Want me to come with -”
Arthur’s cold look was enough to silence him, and he frowned, folding his arms and turning the other way. The mage looked at his familiar expectantly, but Greene merely ignored him. With a scowl, Arthur left, muttering angrily.
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He calculated his return for late afternoon, having gathered as many provisions as he could from what little the town could spare. Alfred was sitting in the common room, tucking into some sort of bean soup. He truly ate like a pig. Greene sat beside him, munching on a piece of bread. A bowl, the mage noticed, had been graciously laid out for him, and he sat down with a scowl, poking at his stew with plenty of ugly thoughts.
“It’s cold,” he said, glaring at the two of them.
“Should’ve gotten here earlier, then,” Alfred said flippantly, and went back to talking to Greene and blatantly ignoring Arthur. Arthur’s scowl just worsened, twisting his face horribly. He wouldn’t ever have admitted it, but he was insanely jealous of all this new attention his familiar was showing Alfred. It was, in his mind, the greatest treachery the wolpertinger could ever commit. Fraternising with the enemy, he called it. He ate his meal in stony, hurt silence as Alfred and Greene - the little rabbity bastard - continued chatting amicably, and huffily stood once he’d finished, stomping up the stairs with no regard for any other patrons whatsoever. It was wiser to get an early night, after all.
Unfortunately, sleep was elusive, for two reasons: Alfred snored something dreadful, and he couldn’t get the fear of the next day away from the forefront of his mind. He tried to quash it with any thoughts, any at all, but he failed miserably. If he wasn’t thinking about certain death, he was thinking about Alfred and Greene’s newfound friendship, and a hot surge of terrible jealousy would rush through him. Greene had no right to speak to that fool, and the more he did, the more Arthur realised he certainly wasn’t on his side.
“Can’t sleep?”
Arthur glowered at the wolpertinger that alighted on the headboard, looking down at him worriedly. He snorted and rolled over, facing the wall. He’d blatantly refused to face the room, and Alfred’s bed. Greene sighed and there was the rustle of settling feathers in the still air of the room. Alfred must have rolled over in his sleep, because the snoring had ceased to steady, soft breathing.
“You can’t ignore me forever, Arthur,” Greene said in annoyance. “Please, talk to me.”
Arthur sighed. “Why don’t you go and talk to Alfred?” he said waspishly, uttering Alfred’s name with as much venom as possible. Greene sighed in frustration.
“Stop being stupid. Right now! You know why I’m being so friendly towards him? Well, aside from the fact he is a very nice, clever, funny young man, I’m doing it so maybe you’ll have the incentive to get to know him too! To give him and this whole situation a chance! You’re being so stubborn and so stupid, it’s almost as if you don’t want me or to be a mage! I’m doing this to save our future, Arthur. Doesn’t it matter anything to you?”
Arthur remained silent for a long time. Now, along with the jealousy, there was also guilt. He felt guilty that Greene was trying so hard, and Arthur wasn’t trying much at all. But how could he? What was the point? This whole mission would have only one outcome, and it wouldn’t be pretty. He and Greene wouldn’t see the spring anyway.
“I don’t like him,” Arthur said instead, scowling into the darkness. “I don’t want him as our guardian.”
Greene groaned and shook his head. “When will you get it, Arthur? He’s not coming back, and he never wanted us in the first place! Get over it!”
Arthur froze in his bed. It had been years since Greene had mentioned… that. He’d promised not to, and now he brought it up so suddenly, in this of all places, and it hurt.
“Goodnight, Greene,” he snapped through gritted teeth and dragged the covers over his head. There couldn’t have been a more obvious end to their conversation. Greene snorted in disgust and flew over to Alfred’s bed, nestling at the warrior’s side, his head low and his wings tucked to his side, while across the room, Arthur wiped away tears over something he hadn’t thought about in forever.
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It had been painfully obvious from the outset that the traipse up the mountain would be a long and hard one. Wading through knee-deep snow or along slippery paths was extremely tiring. Many times Arthur, walking behind Alfred, had slipped and had to be caught quickly. It was a mark of how tiring it all was that he did not complain but merely nodded his thanks and began walking again. Complaining took up far too much energy, and Arthur didn’t want to be even more of a burden than he would undoubtedly become the further they got. He was a mage, and mages were not known for their physical prowess. Certainly, they were fit - they had to be to tackle long journeys hither and thither across the continent - but this went beyond mere toil and into the realm of hard exertion.
Stopping for lunch had been welcome, but difficult. They laid out their heavy cloaks on a clear patch beneath a pine tree and chewed on hard bread and dried fruit hungrily. Neither spoke, both far too exhausted to even think of doing so. It wasn’t until they’d finished that Alfred sighed.
“We’ll never get far at this rate,” he said, looking around. He opened his pack and pulled out a length of thin rope. Arthur licked his fingers clean and shoved his hands back in his gloves quickly.
“And what do you propose we do? Fly?”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Alfred rolled his eyes and stood, wrenching some branches off another pine nearby. “Nope, make snowshoes.”
Arthur stood as well, wandering over curiously. “Snowshoes?”
Alfred nodded. He lay two branches across each other on the snow, placed his foot where the limbs crossed and tied his foot to it. Once he’d done the same with the other, he walked for a few feet, grinning. He didn’t sink half as much into the snow, now. Greene clapped his little paws and Arthur nodded, impressed.
“Weight distribution! Genius!” he exclaimed. He blushed when Alfred turned around and beamed at him, and he tried to ignore the way was smirking at him.
“Thanks,” Alfred said, heading back to where Arthur was standing and laying out the branches for him as well. “My brother and I used to do this as kids.”
“You have a brother?” Arthur asked, surprised, as he tied the thin rope around his foot securely. Alfred nodded.
“Yeah, his name’s Matthew. He still lives on the farm back west.” He waved dismissively in the general direction of where the sun set. Arthur truly was surprised. He hadn’t expected Alfred to be someone with siblings, he struck him as being an only child. “What about you?”
Arthur blinked, jerked from his thoughts by Alfred’s question. He followed the warrior’s lead, clasping his cloak on once more and slinging his pack over his shoulder. For a moment, he debated not answering. He didn’t really want to tell Alfred anything about himself. But then again, Greene would tell him later, when Arthur was asleep or not around for some other reason.
“I have three older brothers and one younger one,” he muttered, chewing on his lip.
“You’re a Kirkland, right? I heard they were warriors. How’d you end up a mage?”
Arthur huffed. “Is this an interrogation?” he demanded. Alfred groaned.
“Look, Arthur, we’ll be stuck alone together for a while, at least. I’m not interrogating you, I’m just curious, that’s all.”
The mage glared at Alfred’s back. It made sense, of course, but he certainly did not want to divulge his life story to this man. Greene, who was once again on Alfred’s shoulder, looked back expectantly. Arthur once again raised his eyes heavenward (he was doing this far too often lately) and gave up.
“Yes, my family has been all warriors for generations. My mother happened to come from a family with magic, and I inherited it, that was that. All three of my older brothers are warriors, but I’m not sure what my younger brother Peter will become.” He said all of this in one breath, which, to Arthur’s irritation, made Alfred laugh.
“My brother’s just a farmer, like my pa and grandpa,” he said. “My pa saved up for ages to send me to the Academy, and it was such a relief when I was accepted. I didn’t want to disappoint them, y’see. They were so proud, I learnt my letters and everything. Pa can’t write, so Mattie has to read all the letters I send home.”
“Why didn’t they send your brother too?” Arthur couldn’t help but feel sorry for Matthew, really. Watching his brother leave for an undoubtedly better, richer life while he was still stuck there, labouring away. How horrid.
“Couldn’t afford it, and, well… Mattie’s always been the underdog. I hate it, but I was always the one that stood out more. Which is weird, because he’s the pretty one.” Alfred laughed again, shifting his pack to sit more comfortably on his shoulder.
They lapsed into silence soon after that, Alfred admiring the rather monotonous scenery, Arthur gazing at the ground in thought. He’d learnt something new about Alfred, today. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he was sure he shouldn’t feel quite as happy about it, not at all.
They made better time with Alfred’s ingenious snowshoes, and by the time the light had started to dim, they were well up the mountain. Alfred scouted around for a place for them to light a fire, and settled for beneath another pine, up against a sheltered cliff. He cleared the pine needles away until there was bare earth, digging a shallow hole and placing a small pile of needles in it again.
“Is there any dry wood?” Arthur asked, shivering. It had been cold all day, of course, but he hadn’t really noticed, and had spent most of the time wiping his forehead free of sweat. Now, however, with the temperature dropping rapidly, the chilly mountain air made itself violently known.
“Not completely dry, it’ll be a little smoky… Sorry ‘bout that.” Alfred got to work with some dead pine branches and resin, his tinderbox snapping against the needles along with the sound of his prayers. Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously? A tinderbox?” he asked. Alfred looked up, frowning.
“How else would you… Oh. Yeah.” He grinned sheepishly as Arthur pointed to his staff. The mage stepped forward, trying his hardest to suppress a chuckle, and stuffed the tip of his staff into the small heap of vegetation that was to become their fire. After muttering an incantation, Arthur smirked proudly as green fire flared up and immediately took, crackling merrily. Alfred whistled.
“I’d never seen someone do magic up this close,” he said, creating some long piles of pine needles Arthur supposed would become their beds, one on each side of the fire. Arthur looked very smug.
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he said. “I am an extremely powerful mage.”
Alfred sniggered. “Ok, ok, don’t get a swollen head. It’s my department to come out with empty boasts, y’know.” After laying his bedroll on the pine needles and laying down with a heavy groan, he tucked his hands beneath his head and glanced over to Arthur, who had sat down and begun rummaging in his pack.
“Are you really a powerful mage?” he asked quietly. Arthur looked up, a packet of dried meat halfway out of his pack, and he blushed deeply. Alfred looked surprised at that, it seemed, but he hid a grin behind his hand.
“Well, when my master - Eirik - first encountered me and they sounded my magical ability, it turned out I was absolutely full of mana, even at such a young age. They said I was a rarity and full of potential.” He cleared his throat and passed Alfred the pack, straightening his robes primly.
“I can be proud if I become your Guardian, then?”
Arthur’s face burnt a deeper shade of red and he snatched the offered package back, taking a few slices for himself and deliberately not looking at Alfred’s grin or Greene’s shrewd look.
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The day dawned early, even though it was still quite gloomy on this side of the mountain. The fire had died down, now merely a pile of reddish embers. Arthur was glad he had spread a long-lasting warmth shield over their little enclave before he’d fallen asleep, and it had certainly done its job in keeping them from freezing to death. Across from him, Alfred yawned and stretched, groaning as he sat up and rubbed his head.
“I feel like shit,” he muttered. Arthur smirked.
“You’d think you’d be used to physical exertion,” he said teasingly.
“Yeah, but I’m not used to sleeping on pine needles in the middle of the wilderness. I miss my bed,” he moaned, running a hand through his hair to settle it. “I miss the blankets and the mattress and the pillow. Once we get back, I’m never leaving it again, my lovely lady!” He hugged his pack as if it was a comfortable cushion, burying his face in it with a moan. Arthur couldn’t hide a chuckle as effectively as the night before, which had both Greene and Alfred looking at him in shock.
“What?” he demanded, getting to feet and looking very flustered indeed. Alfred was grinning like a lunatic, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?” Alfred asked innocently as he packed his own things up and buried the embers.
“That look!” Arthur snapped, waving his arms at Alfred.
“I’m not looking at you in any particular way,” Alfred said with innocence that fooled no one.
Alfred had been singing loudly and annoying all morning. Most of them were bawdy peasant songs of the kind sung in taverns, and the remainder silly children’s rhymes, but they’d help pass most of the day. Greene had come to sit on Arthur’s shoulder, his paws pressed to his ears in pain, and Arthur had continuously demanded he belt up or he would curse him something awful, but Alfred had gleefully ignored him. Eventually, though, he’d run out of steam, and now they were finally walked in silence. For some reason Arthur could not fathom, today did not seem as tiring, even if they were now walking along dangerous paths. They passed sheer rock faces of bare grey rock, boulders littering the path from the shifting cliffs above them. It was dangerous, and Alfred was right to stay silent. Now, however, they had entered the forest again. The path wasn’t as steep as either expected, but there was time for that yet. There wasn’t much noise apart from the odd bird singing every now and again, but it was peaceful.
They’d been walking for a while when Arthur stopped and looked back, a crease between his impressive eyebrows. There was a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, one he could not pinpoint. Something, although he did not know what, felt very, very wrong.
Greene seemed to sense it too, because the wolpertinger’s ears were flat against his skull and he was staring into the forest all around them, breathing heavily. The trees were close and dark, and none of them could see very far. Alfred had stopped a little way further along the path, his hand on the grip of his sword.
“Arthur…” he murmured. Arthur gripped his staff tightly, the tip burning brightly and his hand flaring up with green flame. All around them was silent, stuffy and thick. It seemed as if the very air was waiting.
The attack was sudden even though they had been expecting it. A crash to their right, trees toppling to their doom and an almighty roar were the only things that warned them before a huge club pounded the ground between them, making the very earth quake beneath their feet.
“TROLL!” Alfred yelled, diving to his left as Arthur dove to the right. Greene took flight, speeding up to the trees and out of harm’s way. The huge grey, boulder-like mass roared at them again, its steps making the ground shudder and snow fall heavily from the trees surrounding them. The creature took a swipe with its left arm, narrowly missing Arthur as the mage ducked to his knees. Alfred rolled away to avoid being flattened by the immense pinewood cudgel.
The troll was hideous. Its face was nought but a contorted morass of flat features, its eyes small and its maw huge, its teeth yellow tombstones against vivid red. Its skin was grey and it wore nothing but a filthy piece of ripped animal skin around it. It was quite possibly the ugliest thing Arthur had ever seen outside a book.
“Alfred! Distract it!” Arthur cried, stumbling backwards to get to a safer spot along the path. If he wasn’t far enough away, the troll could easily enough interrupt any spell he tried to cast. He needed his concentration.
The troll, however, was having none of it. It wanted Arthur. It lurched after him, bellowing all the while, its club raised high above its head. It let out a horrible deep shriek when Alfred launched himself at it, his sword cutting a deep welt in the creature’s back. Not enough to stop it, of course - trolls were made of sterner stuff than that - and it turned on the warrior, who easily danced out of the way of every wide swing the troll made at him. Arthur began shouting into the air, a wind whipping up out of nowhere and blowing his robes and cloak about him.
Alfred chose that moment to trip and fall, swearing loudly. Arthur swore as well, the spell halfway done dissolving into nothing. The troll lifted its great club once more, ready to strike as Alfred scrambled to his feet, slipping on the compacted snow, and Arthur did something terribly stupid for a mage. He sprinted forwards, slamming into the beast’s side and diverting its attention from Alfred.
The troll roared again, turning with speed Arthur had not expected and knocking the mage back, fifteen feet down the path and into the snow. He did not move.
“Arthur!” Greene cried, swopping down from the trees and hurtling to Arthur’s side. “Arthur, wake up!”
Alfred swore loudly and with a shout, sword forward, charged at the troll. It barely sank into the monster’s thick hide, but the troll did not retaliate. It made a stupid lowing noise, slipped easily off Alfred’s sword and lumbered off into the trees.
“Yeah! Yeah, you run, bastard!” Alfred yelled after it, nodding brusquely.
“Alfred!”
Alfred wrenched his eyes away from where the troll had disappeared into the gloom and ran down the path, skidding to his knees beside Arthur’s still body.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit shit shit shit shit …”
There was a rock next to Arthur’s head, stained with blood. There was no colour in the mage’s cheeks. Alfred yanked off a glove and pressed two fingers to Arthur’s throat. There was a pulse, faint, but there.
“Where’s his staff?” Alfred demanded. Greene swept off to look for it, and quickly found it under a fir tree.
“Here!”
Rushing over, Alfred picked it up and strapped it to his back, placing his sword back in its scabbard. Biting his lip, Alfred then pulled his glove back on and gently slid his arms under Arthur’s limp form, lifting him up. Snow was starting to fall around them, becoming thicker and thicker, and both the warrior and the wolpertinger knew it would only get worse the longer they stayed there.
“C’mon, we need shelter!” Alfred said. The wind was picking up, blowing his hair around, and it held the promise of a blizzard. Greene nodded darting off down the path, his wings beating quickly. Alfred followed as fast as he dared without jerking Arthur too much.
“Hang in there, Arthur,” he whispered, looking down at the mage cradled against his chest. “You’ll be all right. Don’t die on me, now.”
“I found a cave!” Greene called, and Alfred could just make out the small, viridian creature against the mouth of a large, sheltered cave.
“No bears?” Alfred demanded. Greene replied in the negative, and Alfred rushed towards the grotto, holding Arthur as gently as he could while still rushing. The wind was harder down, the snowflakes stinging his exposed face like tiny shards of glass. It felt like no snow he’d ever encountered before, sharp and cruel. He stumbled up a steeper rise that veered from the path, nearly slipping once or twice on the ground that offered little to no purchase, until he finally reached the cave. Gently he placed Arthur on the ground, quickly laying his and the mage’s bedrolls on the ground before shifting Arthur onto them. He covered the other man with his cloak, wrapping his own tightly around himself.
He knelt next to Arthur, biting his lip. Slowly, tentatively, he removed his glove once more and ran his hand through Arthur’s hair. Tears smarted at the corners of his eyes, and he felt so powerless as the mage’s breathing grew evermore shallow.
“I’m so, so sorry, Arthur,” he murmured. “I should have defended you better.”
He rubbed at his eyes stubbornly, trying to hold his sadness and frustration back. Greene, was huddled at his side, and Alfred noticed his breathing was growing shallower with Arthur’s. He placed a large, comforting hand on the wolpertinger’s back and stroked him gently. Greene whimpered slightly, shivering in the cold air of the cave. With his other hand, Alfred took one of Arthur’s and held it tightly, rubbing slowly with his thumb. Arthur was growing cold, his chest barely moving, and although Alfred had stopped the head wound as well as he could, blood still oozed lazily into the ripped spare shirt, abandoning the sinking ship.
“We need help,” Greene said, his voice frail with weakness.
“There’s no one to help us,” Alfred murmured. Arthur was going to die.
“Oh, really? There is not?”
Alfred’s head snapped up and he grabbed quickly for his sword. It skittered away from his fingers as laughter reached his ears, and he could do nothing but stare in horrified wonder as the snow outside swept in, spinning in a dizzying flurry of white until it took shape. The shape of a tall, thin, terrifying man, with sheer cold in his eyes and a smile like thick frost on crops. He wore a long back coat and tall black boots, and he stood there like the cruel clutch of fell winter itself.
“W-who…?” Alfred could not finish the sentence. He was petrified. The man laughed, and it sound like freezing wind whipping around the cave.
“They call me General Winter,” he said. “This is my cave, this is my mountain. I heard you are needing help?”
Alfred chanced to tear his eyes off the imposing spirit at the mouth of the cave and glance at Arthur. Greene was cowering in terror beside Arthur, ears flat and nostrils flared.
“My mage… He’s injured, he won’t make it…” Alfred swallowed. “Can you do anything?”
General Winter scratched his beard thoughtfully, and there was hunger’s shine in his eyes. “Perhaps. What do you have to offer?”
Alfred bit his lip. “I… I don’t have much money on me, I can’t offer you more than a few crowns…”
The general waved his hand with a scornful laugh. “Please, I am not needing money. There is gold deep in my mountains enough to make richest of your kings seem poor. No, I am wanting something more… useful.”
Alfred felt like meat on a platter under that scrutinising gaze. He shuddered as those frozen eyes raked over him like claws.
“You would do nicely, mortal,” General Winter said. Alfred paled.
“But… But my mage! He can’t go on on his own, I have to be there for him!” he protested. He took Arthur’s hand in his own shuddering ones. The general merely laughed, coldly and viciously, as if human feelings were nothing compared to his petty whims.
“Oh, how touching!” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Are you wanting to save him or not?”
Alfred covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes darting between General Winter and Arthur. Arthur, who was barely hanging on a thread. Arthur, who would surely die if Alfred did not do something.
“I…”
“Very well, I have bargain for you,” General Winter said, suddenly all business. “I shall give you five years. Five years with your mage, five years with which to do what you wish, and then you shall belong to me.”
“Five years…?”
“No more, no less.”
Alfred stared unseeingly at Arthur’s hand. Five years was a long time. There was a lot he could do in five years. He and Arthur could travel the world, save people, do what mages and guardians did. Five years was forever.
And yet he knew, in his heart, five years would never, ever be enough time to spend with Arthur. Stubborn, foolish, haughty, disillusioned, beautiful Arthur. Arthur, who Alfred wanted to have for his own, for the rest of his life. Arthur, who he wanted to protect and make realise there was something to live, that saving people was good and that he would be the best guardian in the world. Abrasive, bad-tempered Arthur whom Alfred found so stupidly endearing it wasn’t even funny. Arthur, whom Alfred was slowly but surely going to inexorably fall for.
Five years was better than no years at all. Five years with Arthur was better than the rest of his life without him.
Alfred raised his head, his expression determined. Greene gasped, and weakly tugged on Alfred’s tunic with his teeth.
“Don’t do it, Alfred!” he pleaded. General Winter, who had been inspecting his nails carelessly, smiled a wolfish smile with sharp teeth on parade and looked at Alfred expectantly.
“Well, little mortal Alfred?”
Alfred took a deep breath, squeezed Arthur’s hand and nodded. “I accept.”
General Winter clapped his hands with an admiringly bow of his head. “Very good, very good, I am admiring you greatly. Now come hither, we must make contract.”
Alfred stood on shaking legs, easily pushing a feeble Greene away from him, and strode over to stand in front of the general. The spirit of winter itself, spread his arms, and a gust of rushing snow blew into the cave and surrounded them both, General Winter body appeared to dissolve, and yet it was still there, still a form in the flurry of white that stung every part of Alfred’s body. It was mortally cold, and seeped into his very bones. He’d never felt so cold in his life. The general’s hand reached forward, aimed at his chest, and his fingers of snow dove beneath Alfred’s skin, digging into his flesh to bestow a mark that would never be removed. The freezing cold burnt into Alfred right above his heart, seeping in and making his blood freeze to lava.
“Remember contract, Alfred,” said General Winter, voice as frozen and empty as the stretches of space beyond the stars, and all around Alfred went black.
.
Arthur awoke with a throbbing pain in his head. It started at the back and worked its agonising way to the front, behind his eyes. He groaned weakly, his eyes fluttering, and suddenly there were hands around one of his, clutching it tightly to a strong chest. Cold, soft fur and a chilly wet nose rubbed against his cheek, soft, light whimpering in his ear.
“Thank mercy he’s awake,” breathed a voice somewhere above him, and Arthur risked opening his eyes a crack. Sure enough, a blurry face soon drifted into focus, and he was staring into eyes as blue as the summer sky. Eyes that were full of relief and… and something much deeper, something Arthur couldn’t fathom.
“Oh, stop being such a drama queen,” Arthur croaked, and he heard Greene sob near his ear, trying to burrow into his neck desperately.
“We were so worried, Arthur! We thought you were going to die!”
“Well, I’m here now…” Arthur muttered, sitting up shakily. He held his head with a groan as everything swam before his eyes. “Gods, I feel awful…”
“You were out cold for a whole day,” Alfred said. He seemed to finally realise he was still holding Arthur’s hand, and quickly dropped it. A vivid blush splashed across his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “So, um… when you’re feeling better, we’ll start moving. You should eat something. I’ve started a fire, I’m boiling up some water for you to drink. Trust you to bring tea…” He chuckled as he waved a hand behind him. He was obviously nervous, although Arthur couldn’t for the life of him think why.
“We should really get back on the road…” Arthur said, biting his lip. Both Alfred and Greene scowled at him.
“No way!” Alfred growled. “You’re staying here until you’re fit! I’m not having you fainting halfway there, damn it!”
He harrumphed, taking the small tin pot from the fire and placing it in a small pile of snow by the entrance to cool it slightly. He then handed it to Arthur, who drank greedily. He could feel the warmth of the drink spreading down into him, and he felt so much better. He noticed Alfred was drinking it too, and Arthur couldn’t help but smiling into his cup at the adorable hypocrisy of it. He froze, his eyes widening.
Had he just thought of Alfred as ‘adorable’? He must be mad, really! Probably the knock on the head, made him feel a little out of it. And he most certainly was not blushing in the slightest.
“Well, i-if you want… We can set out tomorrow. But no later!” Arthur added warningly, pointing a threatening finger in Alfred’s face. The warrior laughed and shrugged.
“Fine by me, Artie!” he said cheerfully, getting to his feet.
“Don’t call me ‘Artie’,” Arthur snapped, glowering. ‘Adorable’ his arse. Alfred was nothing but irritating.
“Whatever you say, Artie!”
“Ugh, you do it on purpose!”
.
End of Part Two
Part Two
A/n: thanks to Kay the Beta for help with this part. You’re awesome!
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By the time they reached the village in the early afternoon, Arthur was about to kill himself. Alfred had unwittingly opened the well of infinite boredom that was Greene when he started talking, but rather than wishing to stab his ears with pointy stakes, he seemed enthralled. Greene had not only gone through the whole story of his life before that day, but also a good few Escanar folk tales and the entire origin story of the Dragonriders. It had been the longest cart ride of Arthur’s life.
He slid off the end of the cart as soon as it stopped, paid the driver and stumbled off to find an inn and order a room. Alfred hurried after him, Greene perched on his shoulder - the little green traitor - laughing with the wolpertinger quite cheerfully. It made him sick, really. Greene should have known better than to fraternise with the enemy.
But Alfred wasn’t the enemy, was he? As much as Arthur found him annoying, he didn’t quite hate him. He didn’t suppose anyone could truly hate the lad, he was far too… likeable. However, Arthur certainly wouldn’t be won over as easily as his familiar. He had principles, after all.
He found an inn, and it was practically empty. A woman who was darning clothes, a small boy and a large dog sat in front of the common room fireplace. A man, obviously the innkeeper, was behind the counter, cleaning some beer mugs with a cloth. The only other patrons were two dwarves, who sat in corner smoking their pipes and speaking in their own tongue.
“A double?” Arthur asked.
“Four shields,” the man said, accepting Arthur’s money with a brief smile. “What brings a mage to these parts at this time of year?”
Alfred answered before Arthur could. “We need to cross the mountains. There are villages in trouble on the other side.”
The innkeeper looked very serious all of a sudden. Near the fireplace, his wife made the Elder Goddess’s sign over her face.
“When will ye be leaving?” he asked.
“Tomorrow, if it doesn’t snow,” Arthur replied. He took the key to their room and headed up the stairs, followed by Alfred. The creaking of floorboards was deafening in the tough silence that once again fallen.
The room was clean and well-kept - being a village along a main trade route through the mountains made for good business, and the innkeeper obviously took pride in his work. Alfred dumped his pack on the floor, propped his sword in the corner and threw himself on the bed nearest the door. Greene alighted on the bedpost, yawning.
“So, what do we do now?” Alfred asked. “Before tomorrow?”
Arthur shrugged. “Buy some more supplies, if we can, and then get a good night’s sleep.” He sat on his own bed, staring at the floor. All he could think about was tomorrow. Would they even be able to cross the mountains? The pass was sure to be completely blocked at this time of year… They would probably die halfway. Maybe that was a better fate than the one on the other side. As much as he did not want to leave a fellow mage to surely die, he could not help but be absolutely terrified. He wondered how Alfred could be so calm, although he realised he himself was not exactly a nervous wreck externally. Perhaps setting himself to do something would take his mind off it.
“I’m going to see what I can find,” he said. Alfred sat up.
“Want me to come with -”
Arthur’s cold look was enough to silence him, and he frowned, folding his arms and turning the other way. The mage looked at his familiar expectantly, but Greene merely ignored him. With a scowl, Arthur left, muttering angrily.
.
He calculated his return for late afternoon, having gathered as many provisions as he could from what little the town could spare. Alfred was sitting in the common room, tucking into some sort of bean soup. He truly ate like a pig. Greene sat beside him, munching on a piece of bread. A bowl, the mage noticed, had been graciously laid out for him, and he sat down with a scowl, poking at his stew with plenty of ugly thoughts.
“It’s cold,” he said, glaring at the two of them.
“Should’ve gotten here earlier, then,” Alfred said flippantly, and went back to talking to Greene and blatantly ignoring Arthur. Arthur’s scowl just worsened, twisting his face horribly. He wouldn’t ever have admitted it, but he was insanely jealous of all this new attention his familiar was showing Alfred. It was, in his mind, the greatest treachery the wolpertinger could ever commit. Fraternising with the enemy, he called it. He ate his meal in stony, hurt silence as Alfred and Greene - the little rabbity bastard - continued chatting amicably, and huffily stood once he’d finished, stomping up the stairs with no regard for any other patrons whatsoever. It was wiser to get an early night, after all.
Unfortunately, sleep was elusive, for two reasons: Alfred snored something dreadful, and he couldn’t get the fear of the next day away from the forefront of his mind. He tried to quash it with any thoughts, any at all, but he failed miserably. If he wasn’t thinking about certain death, he was thinking about Alfred and Greene’s newfound friendship, and a hot surge of terrible jealousy would rush through him. Greene had no right to speak to that fool, and the more he did, the more Arthur realised he certainly wasn’t on his side.
“Can’t sleep?”
Arthur glowered at the wolpertinger that alighted on the headboard, looking down at him worriedly. He snorted and rolled over, facing the wall. He’d blatantly refused to face the room, and Alfred’s bed. Greene sighed and there was the rustle of settling feathers in the still air of the room. Alfred must have rolled over in his sleep, because the snoring had ceased to steady, soft breathing.
“You can’t ignore me forever, Arthur,” Greene said in annoyance. “Please, talk to me.”
Arthur sighed. “Why don’t you go and talk to Alfred?” he said waspishly, uttering Alfred’s name with as much venom as possible. Greene sighed in frustration.
“Stop being stupid. Right now! You know why I’m being so friendly towards him? Well, aside from the fact he is a very nice, clever, funny young man, I’m doing it so maybe you’ll have the incentive to get to know him too! To give him and this whole situation a chance! You’re being so stubborn and so stupid, it’s almost as if you don’t want me or to be a mage! I’m doing this to save our future, Arthur. Doesn’t it matter anything to you?”
Arthur remained silent for a long time. Now, along with the jealousy, there was also guilt. He felt guilty that Greene was trying so hard, and Arthur wasn’t trying much at all. But how could he? What was the point? This whole mission would have only one outcome, and it wouldn’t be pretty. He and Greene wouldn’t see the spring anyway.
“I don’t like him,” Arthur said instead, scowling into the darkness. “I don’t want him as our guardian.”
Greene groaned and shook his head. “When will you get it, Arthur? He’s not coming back, and he never wanted us in the first place! Get over it!”
Arthur froze in his bed. It had been years since Greene had mentioned… that. He’d promised not to, and now he brought it up so suddenly, in this of all places, and it hurt.
“Goodnight, Greene,” he snapped through gritted teeth and dragged the covers over his head. There couldn’t have been a more obvious end to their conversation. Greene snorted in disgust and flew over to Alfred’s bed, nestling at the warrior’s side, his head low and his wings tucked to his side, while across the room, Arthur wiped away tears over something he hadn’t thought about in forever.
.
It had been painfully obvious from the outset that the traipse up the mountain would be a long and hard one. Wading through knee-deep snow or along slippery paths was extremely tiring. Many times Arthur, walking behind Alfred, had slipped and had to be caught quickly. It was a mark of how tiring it all was that he did not complain but merely nodded his thanks and began walking again. Complaining took up far too much energy, and Arthur didn’t want to be even more of a burden than he would undoubtedly become the further they got. He was a mage, and mages were not known for their physical prowess. Certainly, they were fit - they had to be to tackle long journeys hither and thither across the continent - but this went beyond mere toil and into the realm of hard exertion.
Stopping for lunch had been welcome, but difficult. They laid out their heavy cloaks on a clear patch beneath a pine tree and chewed on hard bread and dried fruit hungrily. Neither spoke, both far too exhausted to even think of doing so. It wasn’t until they’d finished that Alfred sighed.
“We’ll never get far at this rate,” he said, looking around. He opened his pack and pulled out a length of thin rope. Arthur licked his fingers clean and shoved his hands back in his gloves quickly.
“And what do you propose we do? Fly?”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny.” Alfred rolled his eyes and stood, wrenching some branches off another pine nearby. “Nope, make snowshoes.”
Arthur stood as well, wandering over curiously. “Snowshoes?”
Alfred nodded. He lay two branches across each other on the snow, placed his foot where the limbs crossed and tied his foot to it. Once he’d done the same with the other, he walked for a few feet, grinning. He didn’t sink half as much into the snow, now. Greene clapped his little paws and Arthur nodded, impressed.
“Weight distribution! Genius!” he exclaimed. He blushed when Alfred turned around and beamed at him, and he tried to ignore the way was smirking at him.
“Thanks,” Alfred said, heading back to where Arthur was standing and laying out the branches for him as well. “My brother and I used to do this as kids.”
“You have a brother?” Arthur asked, surprised, as he tied the thin rope around his foot securely. Alfred nodded.
“Yeah, his name’s Matthew. He still lives on the farm back west.” He waved dismissively in the general direction of where the sun set. Arthur truly was surprised. He hadn’t expected Alfred to be someone with siblings, he struck him as being an only child. “What about you?”
Arthur blinked, jerked from his thoughts by Alfred’s question. He followed the warrior’s lead, clasping his cloak on once more and slinging his pack over his shoulder. For a moment, he debated not answering. He didn’t really want to tell Alfred anything about himself. But then again, Greene would tell him later, when Arthur was asleep or not around for some other reason.
“I have three older brothers and one younger one,” he muttered, chewing on his lip.
“You’re a Kirkland, right? I heard they were warriors. How’d you end up a mage?”
Arthur huffed. “Is this an interrogation?” he demanded. Alfred groaned.
“Look, Arthur, we’ll be stuck alone together for a while, at least. I’m not interrogating you, I’m just curious, that’s all.”
The mage glared at Alfred’s back. It made sense, of course, but he certainly did not want to divulge his life story to this man. Greene, who was once again on Alfred’s shoulder, looked back expectantly. Arthur once again raised his eyes heavenward (he was doing this far too often lately) and gave up.
“Yes, my family has been all warriors for generations. My mother happened to come from a family with magic, and I inherited it, that was that. All three of my older brothers are warriors, but I’m not sure what my younger brother Peter will become.” He said all of this in one breath, which, to Arthur’s irritation, made Alfred laugh.
“My brother’s just a farmer, like my pa and grandpa,” he said. “My pa saved up for ages to send me to the Academy, and it was such a relief when I was accepted. I didn’t want to disappoint them, y’see. They were so proud, I learnt my letters and everything. Pa can’t write, so Mattie has to read all the letters I send home.”
“Why didn’t they send your brother too?” Arthur couldn’t help but feel sorry for Matthew, really. Watching his brother leave for an undoubtedly better, richer life while he was still stuck there, labouring away. How horrid.
“Couldn’t afford it, and, well… Mattie’s always been the underdog. I hate it, but I was always the one that stood out more. Which is weird, because he’s the pretty one.” Alfred laughed again, shifting his pack to sit more comfortably on his shoulder.
They lapsed into silence soon after that, Alfred admiring the rather monotonous scenery, Arthur gazing at the ground in thought. He’d learnt something new about Alfred, today. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he was sure he shouldn’t feel quite as happy about it, not at all.
They made better time with Alfred’s ingenious snowshoes, and by the time the light had started to dim, they were well up the mountain. Alfred scouted around for a place for them to light a fire, and settled for beneath another pine, up against a sheltered cliff. He cleared the pine needles away until there was bare earth, digging a shallow hole and placing a small pile of needles in it again.
“Is there any dry wood?” Arthur asked, shivering. It had been cold all day, of course, but he hadn’t really noticed, and had spent most of the time wiping his forehead free of sweat. Now, however, with the temperature dropping rapidly, the chilly mountain air made itself violently known.
“Not completely dry, it’ll be a little smoky… Sorry ‘bout that.” Alfred got to work with some dead pine branches and resin, his tinderbox snapping against the needles along with the sound of his prayers. Arthur raised an eyebrow.
“Seriously? A tinderbox?” he asked. Alfred looked up, frowning.
“How else would you… Oh. Yeah.” He grinned sheepishly as Arthur pointed to his staff. The mage stepped forward, trying his hardest to suppress a chuckle, and stuffed the tip of his staff into the small heap of vegetation that was to become their fire. After muttering an incantation, Arthur smirked proudly as green fire flared up and immediately took, crackling merrily. Alfred whistled.
“I’d never seen someone do magic up this close,” he said, creating some long piles of pine needles Arthur supposed would become their beds, one on each side of the fire. Arthur looked very smug.
“There’s plenty more where that came from,” he said. “I am an extremely powerful mage.”
Alfred sniggered. “Ok, ok, don’t get a swollen head. It’s my department to come out with empty boasts, y’know.” After laying his bedroll on the pine needles and laying down with a heavy groan, he tucked his hands beneath his head and glanced over to Arthur, who had sat down and begun rummaging in his pack.
“Are you really a powerful mage?” he asked quietly. Arthur looked up, a packet of dried meat halfway out of his pack, and he blushed deeply. Alfred looked surprised at that, it seemed, but he hid a grin behind his hand.
“Well, when my master - Eirik - first encountered me and they sounded my magical ability, it turned out I was absolutely full of mana, even at such a young age. They said I was a rarity and full of potential.” He cleared his throat and passed Alfred the pack, straightening his robes primly.
“I can be proud if I become your Guardian, then?”
Arthur’s face burnt a deeper shade of red and he snatched the offered package back, taking a few slices for himself and deliberately not looking at Alfred’s grin or Greene’s shrewd look.
.
The day dawned early, even though it was still quite gloomy on this side of the mountain. The fire had died down, now merely a pile of reddish embers. Arthur was glad he had spread a long-lasting warmth shield over their little enclave before he’d fallen asleep, and it had certainly done its job in keeping them from freezing to death. Across from him, Alfred yawned and stretched, groaning as he sat up and rubbed his head.
“I feel like shit,” he muttered. Arthur smirked.
“You’d think you’d be used to physical exertion,” he said teasingly.
“Yeah, but I’m not used to sleeping on pine needles in the middle of the wilderness. I miss my bed,” he moaned, running a hand through his hair to settle it. “I miss the blankets and the mattress and the pillow. Once we get back, I’m never leaving it again, my lovely lady!” He hugged his pack as if it was a comfortable cushion, burying his face in it with a moan. Arthur couldn’t hide a chuckle as effectively as the night before, which had both Greene and Alfred looking at him in shock.
“What?” he demanded, getting to feet and looking very flustered indeed. Alfred was grinning like a lunatic, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s that look for?”
“What look?” Alfred asked innocently as he packed his own things up and buried the embers.
“That look!” Arthur snapped, waving his arms at Alfred.
“I’m not looking at you in any particular way,” Alfred said with innocence that fooled no one.
Alfred had been singing loudly and annoying all morning. Most of them were bawdy peasant songs of the kind sung in taverns, and the remainder silly children’s rhymes, but they’d help pass most of the day. Greene had come to sit on Arthur’s shoulder, his paws pressed to his ears in pain, and Arthur had continuously demanded he belt up or he would curse him something awful, but Alfred had gleefully ignored him. Eventually, though, he’d run out of steam, and now they were finally walked in silence. For some reason Arthur could not fathom, today did not seem as tiring, even if they were now walking along dangerous paths. They passed sheer rock faces of bare grey rock, boulders littering the path from the shifting cliffs above them. It was dangerous, and Alfred was right to stay silent. Now, however, they had entered the forest again. The path wasn’t as steep as either expected, but there was time for that yet. There wasn’t much noise apart from the odd bird singing every now and again, but it was peaceful.
They’d been walking for a while when Arthur stopped and looked back, a crease between his impressive eyebrows. There was a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, one he could not pinpoint. Something, although he did not know what, felt very, very wrong.
Greene seemed to sense it too, because the wolpertinger’s ears were flat against his skull and he was staring into the forest all around them, breathing heavily. The trees were close and dark, and none of them could see very far. Alfred had stopped a little way further along the path, his hand on the grip of his sword.
“Arthur…” he murmured. Arthur gripped his staff tightly, the tip burning brightly and his hand flaring up with green flame. All around them was silent, stuffy and thick. It seemed as if the very air was waiting.
The attack was sudden even though they had been expecting it. A crash to their right, trees toppling to their doom and an almighty roar were the only things that warned them before a huge club pounded the ground between them, making the very earth quake beneath their feet.
“TROLL!” Alfred yelled, diving to his left as Arthur dove to the right. Greene took flight, speeding up to the trees and out of harm’s way. The huge grey, boulder-like mass roared at them again, its steps making the ground shudder and snow fall heavily from the trees surrounding them. The creature took a swipe with its left arm, narrowly missing Arthur as the mage ducked to his knees. Alfred rolled away to avoid being flattened by the immense pinewood cudgel.
The troll was hideous. Its face was nought but a contorted morass of flat features, its eyes small and its maw huge, its teeth yellow tombstones against vivid red. Its skin was grey and it wore nothing but a filthy piece of ripped animal skin around it. It was quite possibly the ugliest thing Arthur had ever seen outside a book.
“Alfred! Distract it!” Arthur cried, stumbling backwards to get to a safer spot along the path. If he wasn’t far enough away, the troll could easily enough interrupt any spell he tried to cast. He needed his concentration.
The troll, however, was having none of it. It wanted Arthur. It lurched after him, bellowing all the while, its club raised high above its head. It let out a horrible deep shriek when Alfred launched himself at it, his sword cutting a deep welt in the creature’s back. Not enough to stop it, of course - trolls were made of sterner stuff than that - and it turned on the warrior, who easily danced out of the way of every wide swing the troll made at him. Arthur began shouting into the air, a wind whipping up out of nowhere and blowing his robes and cloak about him.
Alfred chose that moment to trip and fall, swearing loudly. Arthur swore as well, the spell halfway done dissolving into nothing. The troll lifted its great club once more, ready to strike as Alfred scrambled to his feet, slipping on the compacted snow, and Arthur did something terribly stupid for a mage. He sprinted forwards, slamming into the beast’s side and diverting its attention from Alfred.
The troll roared again, turning with speed Arthur had not expected and knocking the mage back, fifteen feet down the path and into the snow. He did not move.
“Arthur!” Greene cried, swopping down from the trees and hurtling to Arthur’s side. “Arthur, wake up!”
Alfred swore loudly and with a shout, sword forward, charged at the troll. It barely sank into the monster’s thick hide, but the troll did not retaliate. It made a stupid lowing noise, slipped easily off Alfred’s sword and lumbered off into the trees.
“Yeah! Yeah, you run, bastard!” Alfred yelled after it, nodding brusquely.
“Alfred!”
Alfred wrenched his eyes away from where the troll had disappeared into the gloom and ran down the path, skidding to his knees beside Arthur’s still body.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit shit shit shit shit …”
There was a rock next to Arthur’s head, stained with blood. There was no colour in the mage’s cheeks. Alfred yanked off a glove and pressed two fingers to Arthur’s throat. There was a pulse, faint, but there.
“Where’s his staff?” Alfred demanded. Greene swept off to look for it, and quickly found it under a fir tree.
“Here!”
Rushing over, Alfred picked it up and strapped it to his back, placing his sword back in its scabbard. Biting his lip, Alfred then pulled his glove back on and gently slid his arms under Arthur’s limp form, lifting him up. Snow was starting to fall around them, becoming thicker and thicker, and both the warrior and the wolpertinger knew it would only get worse the longer they stayed there.
“C’mon, we need shelter!” Alfred said. The wind was picking up, blowing his hair around, and it held the promise of a blizzard. Greene nodded darting off down the path, his wings beating quickly. Alfred followed as fast as he dared without jerking Arthur too much.
“Hang in there, Arthur,” he whispered, looking down at the mage cradled against his chest. “You’ll be all right. Don’t die on me, now.”
“I found a cave!” Greene called, and Alfred could just make out the small, viridian creature against the mouth of a large, sheltered cave.
“No bears?” Alfred demanded. Greene replied in the negative, and Alfred rushed towards the grotto, holding Arthur as gently as he could while still rushing. The wind was harder down, the snowflakes stinging his exposed face like tiny shards of glass. It felt like no snow he’d ever encountered before, sharp and cruel. He stumbled up a steeper rise that veered from the path, nearly slipping once or twice on the ground that offered little to no purchase, until he finally reached the cave. Gently he placed Arthur on the ground, quickly laying his and the mage’s bedrolls on the ground before shifting Arthur onto them. He covered the other man with his cloak, wrapping his own tightly around himself.
He knelt next to Arthur, biting his lip. Slowly, tentatively, he removed his glove once more and ran his hand through Arthur’s hair. Tears smarted at the corners of his eyes, and he felt so powerless as the mage’s breathing grew evermore shallow.
“I’m so, so sorry, Arthur,” he murmured. “I should have defended you better.”
He rubbed at his eyes stubbornly, trying to hold his sadness and frustration back. Greene, was huddled at his side, and Alfred noticed his breathing was growing shallower with Arthur’s. He placed a large, comforting hand on the wolpertinger’s back and stroked him gently. Greene whimpered slightly, shivering in the cold air of the cave. With his other hand, Alfred took one of Arthur’s and held it tightly, rubbing slowly with his thumb. Arthur was growing cold, his chest barely moving, and although Alfred had stopped the head wound as well as he could, blood still oozed lazily into the ripped spare shirt, abandoning the sinking ship.
“We need help,” Greene said, his voice frail with weakness.
“There’s no one to help us,” Alfred murmured. Arthur was going to die.
“Oh, really? There is not?”
Alfred’s head snapped up and he grabbed quickly for his sword. It skittered away from his fingers as laughter reached his ears, and he could do nothing but stare in horrified wonder as the snow outside swept in, spinning in a dizzying flurry of white until it took shape. The shape of a tall, thin, terrifying man, with sheer cold in his eyes and a smile like thick frost on crops. He wore a long back coat and tall black boots, and he stood there like the cruel clutch of fell winter itself.
“W-who…?” Alfred could not finish the sentence. He was petrified. The man laughed, and it sound like freezing wind whipping around the cave.
“They call me General Winter,” he said. “This is my cave, this is my mountain. I heard you are needing help?”
Alfred chanced to tear his eyes off the imposing spirit at the mouth of the cave and glance at Arthur. Greene was cowering in terror beside Arthur, ears flat and nostrils flared.
“My mage… He’s injured, he won’t make it…” Alfred swallowed. “Can you do anything?”
General Winter scratched his beard thoughtfully, and there was hunger’s shine in his eyes. “Perhaps. What do you have to offer?”
Alfred bit his lip. “I… I don’t have much money on me, I can’t offer you more than a few crowns…”
The general waved his hand with a scornful laugh. “Please, I am not needing money. There is gold deep in my mountains enough to make richest of your kings seem poor. No, I am wanting something more… useful.”
Alfred felt like meat on a platter under that scrutinising gaze. He shuddered as those frozen eyes raked over him like claws.
“You would do nicely, mortal,” General Winter said. Alfred paled.
“But… But my mage! He can’t go on on his own, I have to be there for him!” he protested. He took Arthur’s hand in his own shuddering ones. The general merely laughed, coldly and viciously, as if human feelings were nothing compared to his petty whims.
“Oh, how touching!” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “Are you wanting to save him or not?”
Alfred covered his mouth with his hand, his eyes darting between General Winter and Arthur. Arthur, who was barely hanging on a thread. Arthur, who would surely die if Alfred did not do something.
“I…”
“Very well, I have bargain for you,” General Winter said, suddenly all business. “I shall give you five years. Five years with your mage, five years with which to do what you wish, and then you shall belong to me.”
“Five years…?”
“No more, no less.”
Alfred stared unseeingly at Arthur’s hand. Five years was a long time. There was a lot he could do in five years. He and Arthur could travel the world, save people, do what mages and guardians did. Five years was forever.
And yet he knew, in his heart, five years would never, ever be enough time to spend with Arthur. Stubborn, foolish, haughty, disillusioned, beautiful Arthur. Arthur, who Alfred wanted to have for his own, for the rest of his life. Arthur, who he wanted to protect and make realise there was something to live, that saving people was good and that he would be the best guardian in the world. Abrasive, bad-tempered Arthur whom Alfred found so stupidly endearing it wasn’t even funny. Arthur, whom Alfred was slowly but surely going to inexorably fall for.
Five years was better than no years at all. Five years with Arthur was better than the rest of his life without him.
Alfred raised his head, his expression determined. Greene gasped, and weakly tugged on Alfred’s tunic with his teeth.
“Don’t do it, Alfred!” he pleaded. General Winter, who had been inspecting his nails carelessly, smiled a wolfish smile with sharp teeth on parade and looked at Alfred expectantly.
“Well, little mortal Alfred?”
Alfred took a deep breath, squeezed Arthur’s hand and nodded. “I accept.”
General Winter clapped his hands with an admiringly bow of his head. “Very good, very good, I am admiring you greatly. Now come hither, we must make contract.”
Alfred stood on shaking legs, easily pushing a feeble Greene away from him, and strode over to stand in front of the general. The spirit of winter itself, spread his arms, and a gust of rushing snow blew into the cave and surrounded them both, General Winter body appeared to dissolve, and yet it was still there, still a form in the flurry of white that stung every part of Alfred’s body. It was mortally cold, and seeped into his very bones. He’d never felt so cold in his life. The general’s hand reached forward, aimed at his chest, and his fingers of snow dove beneath Alfred’s skin, digging into his flesh to bestow a mark that would never be removed. The freezing cold burnt into Alfred right above his heart, seeping in and making his blood freeze to lava.
“Remember contract, Alfred,” said General Winter, voice as frozen and empty as the stretches of space beyond the stars, and all around Alfred went black.
.
Arthur awoke with a throbbing pain in his head. It started at the back and worked its agonising way to the front, behind his eyes. He groaned weakly, his eyes fluttering, and suddenly there were hands around one of his, clutching it tightly to a strong chest. Cold, soft fur and a chilly wet nose rubbed against his cheek, soft, light whimpering in his ear.
“Thank mercy he’s awake,” breathed a voice somewhere above him, and Arthur risked opening his eyes a crack. Sure enough, a blurry face soon drifted into focus, and he was staring into eyes as blue as the summer sky. Eyes that were full of relief and… and something much deeper, something Arthur couldn’t fathom.
“Oh, stop being such a drama queen,” Arthur croaked, and he heard Greene sob near his ear, trying to burrow into his neck desperately.
“We were so worried, Arthur! We thought you were going to die!”
“Well, I’m here now…” Arthur muttered, sitting up shakily. He held his head with a groan as everything swam before his eyes. “Gods, I feel awful…”
“You were out cold for a whole day,” Alfred said. He seemed to finally realise he was still holding Arthur’s hand, and quickly dropped it. A vivid blush splashed across his cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “So, um… when you’re feeling better, we’ll start moving. You should eat something. I’ve started a fire, I’m boiling up some water for you to drink. Trust you to bring tea…” He chuckled as he waved a hand behind him. He was obviously nervous, although Arthur couldn’t for the life of him think why.
“We should really get back on the road…” Arthur said, biting his lip. Both Alfred and Greene scowled at him.
“No way!” Alfred growled. “You’re staying here until you’re fit! I’m not having you fainting halfway there, damn it!”
He harrumphed, taking the small tin pot from the fire and placing it in a small pile of snow by the entrance to cool it slightly. He then handed it to Arthur, who drank greedily. He could feel the warmth of the drink spreading down into him, and he felt so much better. He noticed Alfred was drinking it too, and Arthur couldn’t help but smiling into his cup at the adorable hypocrisy of it. He froze, his eyes widening.
Had he just thought of Alfred as ‘adorable’? He must be mad, really! Probably the knock on the head, made him feel a little out of it. And he most certainly was not blushing in the slightest.
“Well, i-if you want… We can set out tomorrow. But no later!” Arthur added warningly, pointing a threatening finger in Alfred’s face. The warrior laughed and shrugged.
“Fine by me, Artie!” he said cheerfully, getting to his feet.
“Don’t call me ‘Artie’,” Arthur snapped, glowering. ‘Adorable’ his arse. Alfred was nothing but irritating.
“Whatever you say, Artie!”
“Ugh, you do it on purpose!”
.
End of Part Two