(fanfic) A Tale of Romance, Action, Magic, and Adventure (3/?)

[saramon.livejournal.com]

Title: In Which Old Friends Meet Again
Author: saramon
Summary: In which England the Wizard and Alfred Something have romantic, magical, action-filled adventures, sometimes together, sometimes apart. Fairytale!AU, y/y?
Alfred's dying on the forest floor! Who could possibly find him in time to rescue him?
Characters: Arthur the Wizard and King Alfred
Warnings: Just blood all over the floor.

When Arthur Kirkland the mighty and powerful sorcerer went out to gather herbs (which unfortunately were the sort of herbs that to work properly can only be gathered after ten straight days of rain), he did not expect to find a dead man sprawled all over the herbs he had gone to such trouble to get.

           
His first thought was, Urgh.

           
His second thought was, I should have known this would happen, because things like this always happen to me, don’t they?

           
His third though (and the third thoughts are the ones you should really trust) was, He’s not dead!

Indeed he was not. The not-so-dead man’s breaths were shallow, but Arthur could distinctly see his chest moving. He dropped to his knees in the mud, forgetting about the herbs, and rolled the man all the way face-up (carefully, because he had an arrow sticking out the back of his thigh and another one broken off in his shoulder. Which was probably why he was not-quite-dead.)

Once again, Arthur had three thoughts.

The first – He looks familiar…

The second – Of course he looks bloody familiar! It’s Alfred!

And the third, slightly quieter but no less important – Oh bollocks, what day is it?

He was distracted from trying to calculate the date (things like that slipped away from you when you lived alone in the deepest depths of the darkest forest) when Alfred’s eyelids briefly fluttered open, then closed again. Dammit! What was he supposed to do now?

It was wonderful that he had a chance with Alfred again, but it was not so wonderful that Alfred was half dead and getting more so all the time. This would all work out fine if he’d discovered Alfred next to a hospital or something, but they were in the middle of the woods, in the rain, and it was getting dark. He had to get Alfred back to his house at least, where it was warm and dry, and that meant doing a spell to get them there. He’d never been particularly good at transportation spells, and these certainly weren’t ideal conditions, but magic was mostly determination, wasn’t it?

(This was slightly incorrect on Arthur’s part. Magic was mostly faith, but Arthur had always been suspicious, so determination was the next best thing.)

With his finger in the mud, he sketched out the proper pentagram. It was wobbly and running together, but looked…basically right. Bowing his head, he spoke the magic words in the ancient language of magic. The ancient and revered transportation spell roughly translated to this: “Please let [name of object to be transported] go to [place to be transported to] in one piece. Thank you very much.”

Obviously, in this case Arthur substituted [name of object] with Alfred and [place to go] with my house. He also put special emphasis on the thank you.

(The please and thank you bits were his own idea, and he tacked them onto all his spells. He figured it couldn’t hurt.)

With relief, he felt the familiar tugging sensation that meant the spell was working. The rain soaked woods dissolved around them. Transportation was always disconcerting to Arthur. The only solid thing he could feel was Alfred, and he held tightly to him until his house resolved itself around them. That went as well as could be expected –

The blood suddenly soaking everything told otherwise. Oh damn. He hadn’t been careful enough with his spell. He forgot to ask that the arrows come along too. Now Alfred was bleeding all over the place even more than before. Arthur wasn’t a doctor by any means, but from all the blood coming out of Alfred, that arrow in his leg must have hit an artery. Dammit, dammit, dammit! He wasn’t a medical sorcerer – the best he could do was close up skin, and what if the wound in Alfred’s shoulder had damaged something inside, some muscle or organ – well, come on, anything is better than him spurting blood all over the place!

Arthur took a deep breath, and then covered up the hole in Alfred’s leg with both hands. He’d have to do without a pentacle, but magic is mostly determination, right?

He intoned the spell, which was actually quite complicated (the reason he’d never gotten into medical magic – you had to be so specific with every spell. Misplace one word and you remove the wrong organ entirely.)

Miraculously, he felt the skin knit together under his fingers. Cautiously, he removed his hands. The wound was still red and sore looking, but at least it wasn’t gushing blood. He moved up to Alfred’s shoulder, being a bit more careful this time to pull his shirt out of the way and whatnot.

As Arthur started the spell, Alfred’s eyes cracked open briefly. He smiled and murmured, “Arthur…” and then, “It’s warm,” before closing his eyes again. Arthur almost stumbled over his words, but got it out. He felt the wound close again. This one looked a bit better.

Well. He sat back on his haunches and looked around. Everything seemed to be covered in blood. How much blood could one man lose? At least Alfred was still breathing. That was the important thing, wasn’t it? Keep Alfred breathing.

On the other hand, he was awfully pale, and his breathing seemed too shallow. Better get him off the floor. And out of those blood-soaked clothes (Arthur could stand to do the same).

Enough spelling – it had worn him out. He wrestled Alfred onto the bed instead. Good lord, when had he gotten so…big? He must be taller than Arthur even. Arthur started to strip Alfred of his clothes, ignoring the vaguely awkward feeling that creeping up on him. This was Alfred, he’d seen him naked a thousand times. Even if he was all grown up and a king now. Anyway, he was a patient of sorts.

Arthur got Alfred down to…well, his underthings, then decided that was good enough and went to go change clothes himself. He returned clean from the stream with a bucket of water, and set about washing the blood away from Alfred’s now closed wounds. He should really get a doctor, just to check.

When the cold was splashed over his shoulder, Alfred’s eyelids fluttered again. He focused on Arthur and smiled sweetly. “You?”

Arthur suddenly couldn’t speak. He’d never expected to see Alfred again, and here he was, and smiling at him – he managed to stammer, “Yes, it is me. Don’t worry,” and Alfred closed his eyes.

It was odd, but just then it seemed as though Alfred had never been taken away, like he was still a little boy. But no, he couldn’t have stayed so innocent, could he? He had the cares and responsibilities of a king, and Gods’ sakes, Arthur had pulled him out of a way. But just then, lying on Arthur’s bed, Alfred looked so very peaceful and childlike –

Alfred’s eyes flew open and he vaulted upright. “Hey! You! You bastard, what did you do to me?”

So much for that.
______________

Come on, you didn't expect England to be a GOOD wizard, did you? ahaha.

 

Comments

[galeaya.livejournal.com]

XDDDD England as a somewhat suck-y wizard = win!!

he hasn't anything to you yet XD

[celen.livejournal.com]

Oh, Arthur. XD ♥ He is simply adorable. What with all the pleases and thank yous. They cracked me up. Several times.

Can't wait for the next chapter! ♥

[sephydark]

Well, Arthur sounds good enough to get things done, at least. I wonder what's going to happen when he and Alfred get to talking. I can't really tell whether Alfred recognizes him or not.