Chapter Text
From the moment river water finally touched his stony skin and his snake darted out to taste fresh blood, Aguirre was filled with renewed vigor for vengeance. Boiling over with raw hate, he vowed he would do whatever possible to finally break his curse. He swore to enact his revenge on Francisco slowly and painfully, and promised to himself that he would never again find himself trapped in an eternal fate worse than death.
Now, fresh from his first reencounter with Francisco(calling himself Frank), Aguirre is alive with adrenaline.
The snakes slither around him restlessly, overrun with the same thrumming need for action that he is. He stabs Frank in the chest on sight, then burns the Pika Michuna village to the ground.
From the ashes of his rage Aguirre finds a treasure.
A book.
Not just any book, of course. The same book the chief had read from as the Pika Michuna healed Aguirre and his men. The same one that cursed them all. The same book he had held in his hands the morning before Aguirre killed him.
Aguirre wasn't proud of what had happened, but any senseless man who dictated that an innocent little girl should die because he didn't want to share a singular petal… such a man— such a monster deserved to die for his piousness.
Aguirre’s only daughter... One he would never get the chance to see now... no doubt long dead and in a far better place than Aguirre would ever end up.
He traced his hand along the crafted hide of the book's cover, turning it slowly in his palms before flipping through the pages with a reminiscent, sad curiosity.
Pages on herbs and other foliage used for medicinal casting, on beasts and their bits, cooking, casting, potions—
Aguirre flipped through page after page until finally, he found it.
Something useful.
Something that would give him the edge over Frank.
Something that would finally give him the opportunity to be free from this retched river and terrible curse.
When Aguirre and his men finally come face to face with Frank and his new companions again it's along the shoreline. Francisco’s strange lady friend is pulling Aguirre’s dagger from his chest; one foot on his collar bone while as she tries to tug on it with both hands. It's an amusing sight.
Aguirre stays hidden in the bushes, quietly raising his hand and flexing his fingers out towards his directed target. The words come from his lips quickly and quietly, making sure he’ll be able to get the last words before he’s noticed. By the time they do spot Aguirre, it will be too late.
One snake slowly slithers it’s way out of Aguirre’s neck, winding down his arm until it pools at the end of his outstretched hand, prepared to strike.
Aguirre has found them at the perfect time. With all of the attention focused on Frank and the woman in pants arguing back and forth about how to get the dagger out of his chest, no one is paying any attention to the muttering from the bushes. When a native woman finally begins yelling at Frank in warning, suddenly wise to Aguirre's arrival, it's already too late. He's only a word and a half away from reciting the last of the spell, and then there will be no turning back.
He sees the widening of the chief's eyes, then the woman in pants, and takes some smug satisfaction in Frank trying to jump up from the ground with a painfully fresh wound, knowing he will be too late.
With the final syllable spoken, the snake, patiently poised at the end of his hand, strikes out with lightning speed. It leaps from him and barrels towards the woman in pants.
It’s perfect.
Aguirre has him— He—
Only then, it's not so perfect.
In its single minded trek, the snake can't stop at the sight of an unintended target jumping into view—Jumping into the way. It can't back track when this newcomer shields the lady in pants and the snake continues to charge forward, barreling straight through into newcomer’s chest instead. The young man gasps, clutching at his shirt where the snake has disappeared, spell dragging it in and in until it's coiled comfortably around the young man's heart, gripping like a deadly vice.
Aguirre stutters for a moment, feeling a little tug from inside that almost sets him off his feet.
Madre de Dios, this is strong magic… and it hasn’t exactly gone according to plan.
Instead of binding Francisco’s woman to himself, Aguirre has caught a young man. A scared, soft-looking, tall, white man.
Though the wrong target, this gringo is still clearly somehow involved with Francisco, since both he and the woman in pants begin grabbing at his shirt in a panic. Aguirre holds out hope that he will still be able to use this new connection to his advantage. There is no problem here, surely. Aguirre his simply taken a different person. He straightens himself taller, watching silently as the white woman and several of the tribesmen run worried hands over the interloper's body.
It's not that he pays any particular attention to the young man's name, but it's difficult to ignore his would-be bond mate and several other natives shouting, "McGregor! McGregor!" over and over in such panicked voices.
He may as well come to learn the name of the man he'll be bound to for the foreseeable future.
Francisco is in front of his face in a single moment, hands slipping under the metal of his armor and dragging him up by his breast plate. He must be too angry to care about the half dozen snakes sinking their teeth into his arms, demanding he release Aguirre, because Francisco’s hold doesn't waver a bit and his face barely flinches.
Aguirre revels in Francisco’s anger, smiling with his teeth, knowing that he has won.
Frank opens his mouth, "Wha-"
"What did you do!?" The woman in pants shouts over them before Francisco can even get a word out.
They both turn to look at her, surprised.
Aguirre rights himself first, scoffs and says in searing Spanish, "El estará bien," leering at Francisco, "mientras yo lo esté."
Frank makes an aborted gesture of violence before the woman is speaking again, and Aguirre is somewhat surprised not only to have been understood, but to hear her reply flawlessly in her own searing Spanish, "¿Qué quieres decir con eso?"
Aguirre shakes himself of his surprise yet again and turns his attention to the man in question.
And... and Aguirre must have merely mistaken him for a man earlier… because this is no man laying at their feet.
Boyish, young and innocent are the only ways to describe the wide and wet eyes looking up at him in pleading question now. He's frightfully innocent looking. Terribly out of place in this horrible jungle.
There's not a hair on his face, it doesn’t even look shaved, simply smooth and impish by nature. He can’t be much older than twenty. Even the youngest of the men who had accompanied Aguirre on his voyage had at least a few hairs, yet this face is clear of even one little straggler. Clear of any mark at all in fact, except for the red, native tattoo ink smeared over his face. Aguirre wonders how snow-white-pure his face would be beneath that.
He must be of nobility to be so fair…
McGregor's hands are clutching and pulling over the part of his chest where Aguirre’s snake had entered. He'd probably felt it slide into him, maybe even feels the tight wrapping around his heart even bow. Maybe he can feel it squeezing as they speak. This young creature looks like he's expecting to drop dead at any moment.
He also seems to be unable to understand what they are saying, unlike the lady in pants.
Aguirre clears his throat and keeps his eyes on the boy as he speaks in his cleanest English, hoping his words may be somewhat reassuring and will calm the wild, fearful look in those watery blue eyes, "He is fine.”
McGregor looks like he’s barely held himself back from a whimper.
”…so long as I am.” He continues, and puts his attention back into gloating at Francisco, who freezes his arm mid-punch, “So long as no harm comes to me, no harm comes to your new little friend."
Francisco still looks positively livid, and the woman in pants is shouting outrage while the tribesmen and women are trying to soothe and shush both her and the young man, still laying on the ground in a confused stupor, running his hands over his chest .
"What exactly did he do?" Francisco asks, not to Aguirre, but to the chief, who has taken back their tribal book and is cradling it to her chest.
She shakes her head, holding one of McGregor's hands between her own, "Old magic." her voice is scratchy and mournful, "What he says is true. They are bound together now. One cannot exist without the other."
"Yes, but what does that mean?"
The chief turns her head up to the sister, ready to answer before Aguirre interrupts.
He wants to tell Francisco himself, wants to see the frustration on his face as Aguirre informs him that he will no longer be able to rid himself of Aguirre, he can't touch him.
"It means our lives are one. If you kill me, the English boy dies too. You maim me, he feels the pain."
Aguirre drinks in Francisco's delightfully shocked face, reveling in his moment as Francisco slowly lowers his raised fist.
"You try to remove him from me, he dies." Aguirre says, making sure their eyes are locked, "And if you try to hide me from the river and turn me to stone, he dies slowly..." he leans in closer, "and painfully."
He’s marinating in Francisco's look of dreadful realization when his gloating is cut short.
The woman in pants begins to stand, "Well that is—That is simply dreadful! You—You horrible man! What has my brother ever done to you? Why—Who—Who would even think of such a horrible thing?"
She's come up to them now, practically shoving Frank out of the way as she cuts off his chance to berate Aguirre by yelling at him herself.
She brings a finger to his chest, pointing accusingly, only hesitant of the snakes for a moment before giving him a small shove, "You despicable man!”
She grits her teeth at him, then flattens her lips into a thin line and lifts her chin. “I don’t believe it.” She says, and Aguirre doesn’t have a moment to process this crazy woman before she barrels on, turning on her heel, too quick to follow, “Come on MacGregor!”
Aguirre has never had a woman leave him at such a loss— there's just too much going on at once— and he doesn’t get a moment to right himself before she's already made it down to a crouch beside her brother.
She practically lifts him up off the ground herself before herding him away, muttering disbelief and insults the entire time, barely bothering to look back over her shoulder.
He's so shocked by the exchange that it takes a moment for Aguirre to realize she's either mad and in denial, or crazy enough to try and test their connection. Loca!
Several of the native women have started shouting at her, but it’s in the Pika Michuna dialect and she doesn’t seem to understand.
"Lily!" Frank says, grip loosening on Aguirre as he makes to follow, worry clear in his voice. "Lily hold on!"
The chief and natives are yelling now, all of them clustering in a panic like a mob as they try to follow and catch her. They reach out their hands but she shakes them off and drags the boy with her.
Mad woman! Loca!
Aguirre is swept up in the crowd trying to stop her and starts to walk briskly after them, prepared to begin shouting a slew of Spanish curses himself when he suddenly realizes he's already lost a line of sight.
The leaves are thick, and while he can hear the commotion just up ahead he has no visual.
Something unfamiliar tugs violently at Aguirre’s chest and his feet begin to move faster on their own, propelling him forward before he can even think about why he’s chasing after them. Something pounds in his chest like panic, hammering on his heart. He doesn't understand the anxiety, unfounded and unlike him. He has no reason to be worrying over this boy...
And yet—
It must be worry over something else. Maybe his spell hasn’t worked... it must be a worry that maybe they can, in fact, get away. Whatever this anxious thrumming in his body is, it has control of his body as he is now almost sprinting.
He pushes around and through the crowd, shouldering past Francisco until he comes to a stop with them all, finding the boy and his sister on the ground once again.
Only this time there may actually be reason for concern.
McGregor is sweating, groaning and clutching at his chest in pain, and although Lily tries to get him to communicate, his eyes won't open and he's not saying anything besides a few pained pleas.
"I told you." Aguirre says sternly, quickly crouching down to one knee at his side, "I do not lie you crazy woman. We are bound."
Lily looks likes she wants to swat him away when he reaches for McGregor’s arm, but the moment they touch McGregor’s whole body flinches at the touch, then releases a shuddering sigh of relief as he begins leaning in towards Aguirre, into the touch.
Lily exhales with an unsteady breath, her eyes only slightly less teary, "Alright. Alright so you didn't lie. I’m sorry.” She looks down to her brother, “I’m so sorry.”
She presses his hair down and out of his face soothingly, still apologizing, then finally looks up at Aguirre, “But—but you have to let him go. He hasn't done anything to you, so please. You— you can take me instead, can't you? You were aiming for me."
Francisco makes a noise of protest, but it doesn’t matter.
Aguirre retracts himself slowly when McGregor finally blinks his eyes open still panting a bit as he holds his hands to his chest.
"Not possible now.” He says softly, very matter of fact while retaining some gentleness, “He is marked. It is done."
The chief stands behind them with some of the other unsettled villagers. She takes this opportunity of silence and speaks up, addressing the woman in pants with something like pity, "What is bound is bound. It cannot be unbound now... I am sorry. " she hesitates, then turns a glare on Aguirre, "Though.... the tears of the moon might also be able to break this curse."
Aguirre twitches at the word 'curse' as he knows that technically it’s not what this is. It's a spell in their tribe for marrying newlywed couples together in body and soul. It’s not meant to be a curse at all, but he’s misused it, he’s tainted it, and Aguirre understands what she’s saying to him. If it means being bound to a monster like Aguirre, then it must be a curse, indeed.
He can’t hide the contempt on his face as he stares back at her.
He can understand the sentiment though, much as he resents it. He doubts that he and this Englishman will become steadfast bosom buddies, suddenly connected on a deep and intimate level like the book had described.
He doesn't try very hard to hold back his glare as she shoulders past him, (hissing back at his snakes when they coil) to kneel in front of McGregor. She gently moves his shirt out of the way so she can look at where the snake had entered.
Lily sits back to give her room but gasps once his shirt is unbuttoned. McGregor has a split second look of confusion before he cranes his chin to try and look at his chest. Then he sees what everyone else is looking at.
There, inked into his skin directly over his heart, is what looks like a tattoo of a snake, swirling over itself in loops.
"Is- is this another tattoo?" he asks, bewildered and more than a smidge frustrated. “I’m going to return home looking like some sort of rapscallion!"
Lily crosses her arms and tries to make light, but there’s tension in her voice as she says, "Between that and the face mark, everyone at home is going to think you traveled and came back subversive."
McGregor glares at her.
"It is a mark of claim." The chief says, grazing her fingers over it. She turns her head toward Aguirre, "It looks wrong. Because it is his mark."
McGregor bristles, "So it wasn't enough just to- to bind me, but now I'm branded." He drops his head back, “Lovely.”
Aguirre juts his chin forward indignantly, accent getting thick as he says, "It will be gone when the curse is gone."
"So then… we continue with our original plan and get the tears of the moon-" Lily looks up at the conquistadors with a frown, "I assume for you as well now?"
"Once me and my men have our petals, you may unbind him. Not before."
She scowls at him before turning to Francisco, "What do you think Frank? We... I mean, we can't really trust them, but... what choice to we have?"
Aguirre notices that McGregor is staring at him offhandedly at first, but has to take a second look when he notices that the man’s unreadable expression is accompanied by what appears to be a flush in his cheeks. Aguirre can’t get an accurate read on it thanks to the red ink covering his face—and it frustrates him enough that he frowns outwardly, and McGregor looks away.
Now he’s looking everywhere but Aguirre.
"The second they get what they want they'll kill us." Frank says.
Aguirre lifts his eyes back to the matter at hand.
Sancho pipes up from behind them, reminding Aguirre that he is not alone, "Pero no podemos matarte, hombre!"
Gonzales elbows him harshly before shaking his wooden arm to rid it of the lingering, sticky honey.
"Trust us or no," Aguirre says sternly, back in English, "there is little choice."
"Yes, well." Lily sputters, trying to keep her composure strong and sure even as her face gives away her nervousness, "I see your point.” She lifts her chin, “We accept your offer."
Sancho snorts and Aguirre shares the sentiment even though he raises a hand loosely to quiet him. The woman in pants has spirit, certainly. Her brother, on the other hand, still seated on the ground with a couple native women running hands over him, looks considerably more dispirited. He pays no heed to the women, shrugging out of a few touches now and again, but not with enough care to really deter them.
Aguirre walks closer to him, their boots practically touching before he stretches out his hand. McGregor recoils a bit as some of the snakes slither out and around it, looking directly at him as they rattle their tongues.
Aguirre hides his amusement, "They will not harm you."
He doesn't look at all convinced, but he gives in and hesitantly reaches up to take his hand, grimacing when one of the snakes slides against his knuckles.
Aguirre pulls him into a stand. He’s not exactly sure why, but some strange little part of himself—which he's sure is bond related—feels some smug satisfaction seeing the disappointed looks on the women’s faces as McGregor is pulled from their arms.
He has already claimed this man plainly.. and their insistent hands feel like blatant disrespect of that claim.
It had unsettled him in a way that (once again) he couldn't quite place, but this feels better and allows Aguirre to relax a little bit.
Aguirre mentally shakes himself free of the notion, letting McGregor's hand drop away and frowning to himself when his stomach clenches. Had he made a mistake? Perhaps this bonding would affect him adversely as well. He had not stopped to consider that.
McGregor clutches at his hand for a moment before whimpering, then frowning to himself with a hard swallow and placing his hand back over his belly. He must still have felt it too.
"We travel together to lagrimas de la luna. There is no debate."
"McGregor basically just experienced a heart attack and he needs rest—" Lily starts, "we can't just start moving-"
McGregor interrupts her, "No no, Lily I'm just fine. I'll be perfectly fine, the sooner we get to the tree… I’ll—" he doubles over before going down to one knee and giving a small whimper before he vomits.
Lily is by his side in an instant and Aguirre comes to a kneel beside him next. As Lily frets with insistent snaps of, "He is not fine." Aguirre lifts his hand to the young man's forehead.
McGregor gives a small whine as his palm meets skin, shutting his eyes and leaning into it. It does not look intentional when he leans most of his weight into Aguirre’s hand, whole body immediately turning towards Aguirre like he's cold water soothing a parched throat; the only one in the world who can offer solace from whatever pain he's feeling. He probably is, to be fair. Aguirre is certain that this must be from the bond. With a small measure of frustration, he makes eye contact with the chief, silently and begrudgingly asking her for help.
She scoffs, "You do magic you do not understand. 300 years and you are still a fool." her teeth tut, "Your bond is fresh. Demands closeness. In our rituals, as they should be preformed, this would be done on the wedding night."
Lily has the good sense to try and keep her mouth from flopping open and closed like a fish, but only because Frank barks out a startled laugh and she can concentrate on glaring at him instead.
Aguirre is less amused. Surely they do not have to…
His face must give something away, because she rolls her eyes and waves him off, "Would be easier, but no. No need. But he needs to be held closely until it fades, or else he will hurt." She seems very sodden as she continues, "This is not how this ritual is meant to be used. There should be no pain in such a beautiful bonding. His body fights it."
She glares openly at Aguirre then, and he has the decency to at least feel a little shamed.
"There is no time to stop." Aguirre says matter of factly, then looks to Frank and the woman in pants, "Lagrimas de la luna blooms soon, no? You have uncovered its secrets with the arrowhead."
Lily frowns, watching McGregor's breathing come back to something close to normal again, "Yes, but surely we can't continue on now— McGregor can't roam around the jungle in his condition! He needs rest!"
Aguirre makes a frustrated noise and shoves his arms around and under the young man, lifting under the knees and hoisting him up. He jostles, still somewhat out of it, but starts to flounder a bit once he realizes he’s just been moved.
Aguirre goes to start walking, but the woman steps into his way.
“You can’t carry him the whole way!”
“Si, I can.”
Aguirre attempts to step around her but she jumps right back into the way.
“No, you can’t. He needs rest! And— and if something happens we won’t be able to stop—“
”Aaggh!” Aguirre yells, then unceremoniously drops McGregor’s legs, letting them swing down until his feet are unsteadily planted on the ground again, Aguirre holding him up under the arms. “We do not have time to be wasting!”
“You should have thought of that before you did this to my brother!”
"Fine! Then you will find it alone." Aguirre says, "I will keep your little princess here, let him rest, then tomorrow we will join you."
"If you think for one moment that I'm going to leave my brother alone here with you like this-"
"We will stay here with the Pika Michuna," he says, "if it will put your loud little mind at ease."
Lily inhales like she has more to say, but she’s interrupted when the chief flails an arm at him, "You will not!"
Lily reaches out to hold her flailing hand, "Oh, Sam, please," she begins, lathering on layers of sweetness to voice, "I would feel so much better knowing he was with you. Please."
Aguirre is only mildly impressed when the chief seems to pause and consider this. She is undoubtedly still grumpy, but she softens towards Lily, tipping the hat on her head back and finally groaning her agreement with a displeased, "Fine. But they stay by the river, not in the camp."
“You’re sure they can’t—?”
”I like you girl,” she says, “but I will not have these murderers sleeping under my roof, next to my people.”
Aguirre bites his tongue before he can say something stupid that will fan the flames like ‘we don’t sleep’. At least the woman in pants is cooperating. They’ve wasted enough time as is, and while Aguirre is glad he holds the upper hand now, he is beginning to think this has been more trouble than it is worth.
"We find the tree as soon as we possibly can and- how will you find us tomorrow?"
"Mis abejas." Sancho offers, hand waving with some grace as a small swarm of bees circle his wrist.
Lily blinks, "Your- your bees?"
"Mis abejas puedan volver más rápido para avisarnos." he says, grinning, "¿Sí?"
She stares oddly at his bees, a confused frown forming on her face as she watches them swarm in a dance-like pattern. "Send them with us? It was my understanding you controlled your..." she gives a quick glance around at the others, "friends... but I had no idea you could actually communicate."
There's something curious in her eyes as she watches them all a bit more closely. A handful of bees swirl around her before coming to a scattered rest all over her blouse. She grimaces, but keeps her chin high. "Yes. Alright. Frank and I will head on, first light-" another look at the motley crew, then her new small passengers, "Or now. On second thought, now is good."
Frank has a moment where Aguirre can tell he finds her just as maddening as Aguirre does. His face is a mixture of flustered, frustrated and still completely besotted.
Interesting.
Gross, but interesting. He files the knowledge away for later. He’d known Francisco had a lady friend accompanying him, but not that he would be so smitten in so short a time.
Aguirre gives a look towards McGregor, still curled up against him and breathing heavily into his shoulder. To his own curiosity, a few of the snakes have began to slither and slide along the young man's cheek, nuzzling with little head bumps of their own, an uncharacteristically odd show of affection from his otherwise violent and ruthless companions. McGregor, for his part, seems too out of it to care that the same snakes that had made him too afraid to reach for Aguirre's hand were now cuddling up to him.
It's curious.
"Well," Lily says, an exasperating amount of confidence in her voice, "We just have to find the tree, send word back and get the rest of you to that tree so that everyone can get a petal to break your curses. All before the red moon and not a minute too late." She places her hands on her hips, a huge, not-so-confident smile on her face as she says, "…Sounds easy as pie."