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There is a place that exists far off - a fair distance removed from the little villages and the crowded towns, hidden away by forests and sheltered by the surrounding wood. This lush, secluded valley stays green year-round and supports flora that possess beautiful shades of colour that rainbows (and extremely frustrated, starving artists) can only dream of. The very air shimmers in the sun and twinkles by the moonlight.
Only five mortals have stumbled upon this haven, have taken in the sight of impressive vegetation and seen the curious little hut that is located at the very heart of this lost piece of Eden.
Yet not a one remembers being there.
What they do recall - oddly enough - is walking straight out of the forest (strange, what had they been doing in there?) and back to civilization with a decidedly determined breeze blowing at their backs, pushing, nudging - leaving no doubt in their minds that yes right, this is the direction I should be headed.
Mortal minds are easy to manipulate in this way, humans these days forget to question oddities, would sooner forget that they occurred and dismiss them quickly than let potentially disturbing realizations come to light.
If only that applied to incredibly irritating vampires, Arthur grouches, arms folded on the window-sill, watching through a dusty window as the human dazedly staggers away from his home.
"Dinner!" sings the annoying voice from the other room. Annoying in the way that the voice invoked an involuntary palpitation from a certain organ in his chest and from the simple fact that the owner of the voice had the nerve to assume that Arthur would approach when called in such a manner.
Never mind that Arthur does, but that could easily be blamed on his stomach. The Frenchman must have enchanted his food so that Arthur could barely stand to eat anything else yes that must be it.
By the time he's comfortably seated at the tiny round table, he is thoroughly convinced of Francis' diabolical scheme to enslave him via stomach. It should be noted however, that this thought does not impede his fork from digging into the steaming plate of food and promptly depositing the edible wonder into his mouth.
He pretends not to notice the happy gleam in the other's eyes as the vampire watches him eat.
"What about the boys?"
"Ah, they're asleep, they can eat later."
Francis is still staring. Arthur fixes a questioning gaze onto his companion who only shrugs and chuckles before turning away.
---
If you asked Arthur - and you really shouldn't if you liked having an ordinary number of appendages - he and Francis didn't "get along", they merely co-existed in a quasi-peaceful manner that could occasionally be mistaken as affectionate. He claims that Francis followed him home after they first met during one of his midnight Gatherings (there are some plants crucial to his brews, such as the rare Lune Lily, that only care to reveal themselves at night, only to those of good hearts, and onlywhen the moonlight graces the ground).
The other man had been badly injured and nearly unconscious when Arthur came across him lying directly under a dusky moonbeam. His pale blonde hair obscured his face, but Arthur could see his mouth thin and grimace in pain. The darker, flickering aura surrounding the man tells him that he had come across another non-mortal. One that was not on his Side.
So he doesn't serve the Light, but what could he be? There were many dangerous creatures that lived in the Darkness.
Angry voices approach from the right and Arthur considers leaving the creature there and fleeing, but it had been a long, long time since he met another like him (except not like him) that he feels compelled to help. Or at least that's what he tells himself when he drops down to a crouch beside the wounded man and waves a glowing hand in an arc above them.
"Aye, he came by this way. I'm sure of it!"
Torches and weapons in hand, a small group of humans emerge from the dark forest, looking around the small clearing, eyes glazing and sliding past where Arthur knelt in front of them. He knows how to hide, has been doing it for the majority of his life.
"Damned bastard must have gotten away," says the one wielding a bloody pitchfork. How original, Arthur thinks. "Heh, 'least I managed to stick 'em through the torso." The smile on the man's face was sickening, and made Arthur very much want to drop a tree onto his hideous head.
He chooses to remain still and green eyes glower at the crowd as they grumble that the clearing was empty and continued their search in a different direction. Arthur watches them go, idly wondering which town they had come from.
A cough at his elbow startles Arthur into dropping the cloaking spell and he immediately leaps away wondering if he had been caught helping someone and the denial is ready to tip out of his mouth but is halted when the stranger sits up, arm shooting up to nurse his side.
"Merci mon cher..." the other man mumbles, looking up at Arthur gratefully with blue eyes that belonged in the moonlight, the way they soaked in the night. He attempts a small grin revealing a dangerously sharp mouthful of teeth. Vampire. Upon realizing this, Arthur reflexively backs away even though the man can't possibly be that danger to him in this state.
The vampire stands with a grimace, takes a step, reaching out for Arthur's hand - to shake it? - only to crumple and collapse in a heap at Arthur's feet, out cold and proper this time.
There is a new light in the clearing and Arthur can only stare. The newly uncovered, blooming petals of a Lune Lily glows brightly between the two of them, covering both in a magical white aura.
He plucks the flower up and slips it into his gathering basket, and the lily dims as it settles atop the other contents. He spares a disdainful glance at the prone body at his feet before marching away, quite determined not to look back.
He manages a grand total of two steps before whirling back around to wave a glowing hand and on command, the other's limp figure is raised off the forest floor.
With a huff, he turns on his heel and deliberately strides in the direction of his home, the vampire's unconscious body trailing close behind, tendrils of blond hair grazing smoothly along the dark grass.
Followed him home indeed.
---
With Arthur's care, it only takes the other man until the morning to completely heal from his otherwise fatal wounds.
Having a vampire in his home made Arthur uneasy. They were known to be a treacherous folk. Arthur wonders if he would be able to fight him off it came down to it.
Despite just recovering from a near-death experience, Francis' face was effortlessly handsome framed with soft blond hair and though torn, he wore elegant clothes fit for nobles. Needless to say, Arthur is irritated. The first being Arthur's come across in the past decade and it has to be a well-dressed vampire.
Arthur contemplates kicking him out as soon as he opened his eyes, but he knows the other would be averse to the bright daylight so he decides that he will personally escort the vampire off of his land on his way to another night Gathering. He tells Francis as much when the other awakens. It earns him another toothy smile.
"I'll give you some clothes and a loaf of bread for your trip. Don't you try anything," Arthur warns. "I could still have your eyes for a potion."
"And I could still have the blood that flows through that pretty neck of yours - but with such warm and kind hospitality? I would never," the man says in a teasing tone. "May I learn the name of my dear saviour?"
Arthur balks, he isn't certain, but somehow he feels that giving his name to a vampire that owns such intriguing blue eyes would be a bad idea.
So of course he tells him:
"It's Arthur."
The other seems to breathe the name in and take it up into his being. He feels very much like he just sealed a verbal contract.
"Thank you very much for helping me Arthur." the vampire gives a small bow, "Francis at your service."
Arthur flushes and then scowls when Francis proceeds to wink at him and Francis only laughs at his contorted facial expression.
In his gratitude, Francis goes through the meagre contents of Arthur's kitchen and prepares the best breakfast Arthur's ever had in his existence. After which he lets Francis sleep for the rest of the evening. Arthur sets about doing errands around his home, keeping close to the sleeping creature just in case.
---
"And humans can't find this place?"
"They can find it, they just won't remember."
"You're a clever enchanter aren't you?" Francis takes a few strides in front of him, his feet gliding just slightly off the ground. He looks to be walking on air.
"Clever enough."
How does he do that?
"And you go into the woods at night to look for ingredients for...?"
"Potions, brews. They come in handy. And sometimes I can sell them, if a faerie market opens close by," Arthur plucks a spindly looking plant from its roots and places it into his basket. "They haven't come by in a very long time though."
He spots a silver-leafed fern and misses the look that Francis gives him.
"And who keeps you company?"
"No one." Arthur is still crouched on the ground, pulling at the stubborn plant.
"Isn't that lonely?"
A pause, another tug.
"It's quiet."
Arthur starts when Francis kneels onto the forest floor, and easily slices at the stem using the tip of his fingernail and holds the silver plant to him.
Arthur thins his lips, nods his thanks.
"I don't think that's any way for anyone to live," Francis says finally. The night is silent.
"You should go." Arthur needs him to leave before he, in this desperate state, actually gets attached to this silly creature.
But Francis doesn't.
---
Once in a while Francis leaves for a night or so to feed, refuses to tell Arthur where he goes but always returns insisting that Arthur needed someone to feed him now that he's tasted real food.
The food's wonderful, but Arthur is just as much charmed by the fact that Francis seems to care.
He chops and cuts Arthur's brewing ingredients into the fine expert slices that Arthur could never have managed. When he tags along on Gatherings, his sharper vision allows him to spot all the ingredients and Arthur only needed to describe them to him. It cuts Arthur's excursions by at least two hours, allowing him to return to his hut sooner than usual, which is exactly as he prefers it, reclusive mage as he was.
"Blasted piece of fruit!" Arthur curses, awkwardly jumping and swiping at the branch above his head. The fruit remained hanging above his reach.
His hand is still extended when Francis glides gracefully up a couple feet off the ground and grabs the yellow fruit, handing it down to Arthur. The plump, yellow-skinned star-shaped fruit is perfectly ripe, with a single leaf attached to small stem. Their fingers close over each other for a moment before Arthur snatches his hand away.
"It's not fair," he grumbles. "We're the same height!"
Francis snickers.
"I'm sure if I wasn't around you could have performed some sort of magic trick or another."
"They're not tricks! And magic shouldn't be used for such frivolous things as fruit-picking," Arthur snaps.
"Then it's a good thing I'm around then, non?"
Francis takes Arthur's stubborn silence as agreement.
---
Eventually, the cot becomes a permanent fixture in the other room, and Arthur even begins making little packs for Francis to take on his feeding trips.
And then one afternoon, Arthur wakes Francis in the middle of an afternoon nap to show him a large, winged egg.
---
The egg is big enough that it takes up most of the round, wooden kitchen table. It isn't extremely heavy, and for some reason Arthur misses the weight of it in his arms. Two wings stick out at the curved sides, occasionally fluttering, though Arthur just writes it off as passing breezes. Oddly enough, one was feathered, white as snow while the other was smooth, black as coal.
Arthur had never seen anything of the like. A collaboration of Heaven and Hell manifested in an egg?
He rubs at the side a bit, while Francis curiously pokes at one of the wings. Before he can tell Francis off, the egg gives a vibrating jiggle, then a CRACK and the shell of the promptly egg breaks into pieces. And so does Arthur.
"It's hatching, it's hatching, what have I done, what do we do -"
"Calm down, you silly mage, it's not like you're giving birth -"
The pieces fall of their own accord around the egg, revealing its contents.
Francis and Arthur exchange shocked glances before looking back at the two infants who lay in the remains of the broken shell, eyes closed and hands clasped tight between them. Among the pieces of shell, a thin placard reads Alfred & Matthew. The name Alfred, written in a terrifying cursive in slanted burnt charcoal and then, Matthew in neat, elegant golden ink.
Two tiny sets of wings flap and flutter in the near-silent room. One child bears white wings and the other black, just as the egg had. Slowly, their eyes open, taking in the sight of each other before a light violet settles onto Francis while a set of sky-blue fix themselves onto Arthur. And then the eyes switched targets.
Their gazes ignite a feeling quicker than lightning and something stronger than magic locks within Arthur's heart.
He reaches for one - for both - and breathes out their first 'Hello.'
---
"No! Alfred - that's not for eating!"
Arthur frantically pulls the toadstool out of Alfred's mouth, as the fungi proceeds to heat up, turning red - and flings it out the window, at which point it promptly explodes in midair just above the green shrubbery.
"Ooh!" the little demon coos at the flashy display, delighted, while Arthur attempts to avert the impending heart attack building in his chest.
Alfred is the sweetest little one, but the boy just couldn't seem to behave for any given amount of time. Throwing things across the room, always somewhere that he shouldn't be, somehow taking apart everything that has the misfortune of falling into his hands - the boy is what people often considered a Devil's child (Arthur refuses to call him such, worried that there was too much truth in those words).
Arthur had been loath to allow Alfred anywhere near his work area but Alfred had insisted on following him around in the most endearing manner. It was difficult to turn him away.
Slapping a seal onto the jar that Alfred had gotten hold of, he places it on the highest shelf. Best keep the explosive fungi away from the children.
It will be a nightmare once they were able to fly.
Francis wanders into the room holding Matthew as if he is ready to run off.
"What was that?"
"Combustible mushroom - they explode when they get liquid on them - Alfred put one in his mouth."
Francis gives him a "You turned your back didn't you" look and sets Matthew down next to Alfred. Matthew's small fluffy wings flap sleepily at his brother. Alfred pats him in greeting, gesturing enthusiastically out the window where the air still smouldered a bit.
"We should get rid of it," Francis says.
"Get rid of what?"
"All of this!" Francis waves at the shelves lined with jars filled with specimens and ingredients. He grabs a jar of eyes from the nearest shelf.
"I've been telling you! You think it's natural for children to be raised with these things at every corner?" He roughly shakes the jar at Arthur and the eyes jiggle and slosh about in the container.
"Natural? An angel and a demon are being raised by a sorcerer and a bloody French vampire what part of this is natural really?"
"We could at least - "
"Wah!" A sharp yelp interrupts them and the two look round at the boys.
Alfred is near tears, with one hand clutched at his neck, wibbling big blue eyes at his brother. Matthew only blinks slowly, leaning towards Alfred and swatting softly at Alfred's arm.
"Nom?" he inquires with all the innocence an angelic child is expected to have.
"Mon ange! Did you bite him?" Francis asks, sweeping Alfred into his arms, prying the tiny hand away from his neck.
"Bite - "
Sure enough, there were small tooth-like indentations in the boy's skin, not deep enough to draw blood or be painful but certainly enough to surprise him.
Arthur is ready to throttle the other man.
"What have you been teaching Matthew?" he demands, because Matthew is an angel (in every single sense of the word) - so this has to have been Francis' influence.
"Nothing!" It is Francis' turn to appear guilty, "I was only telling him stories about his dear papa!"
"What?! He's a cherub! How exactly is that a good idea?"
"Could you lie to that face? Honestly."
Arthur snatches Matthew up and takes Alfred from Francis.
"You are never going near the boys again."
"Always the dramatic one, mon cher."
Arthur ignores him, and stalks over to the room containing the boys' bed and tucks them in. Matthew yawns and as the boy drifts to sleep with Alfred cozying up beside - he already seems to have forgiven his brother. Arthur pushes the child's hair away from his small face, and readies a stern, serious voice. Chastising comes easier to him when the boy is half-asleep and can't stare up at him with round, violet eyes.
"Biting is bad, Matthew," he scolds lamely. "Heaven forbid you end up like Francis."
"And trust me, you don't want that," Arthur continues to himself. "With his lewd looks and his French French. Always gallivanting off to noble towns to feed when he can do just as well with any common village - but no of course not he is a high-class vampire. Always giving me attitude. Always cooking. Always accompanying me on gatherings. Never leaving when I want him to, always leaving when I don't want him to..."
Arthur brings his rant to a sudden halt, a little disturbed and not quite ready to evaluate the meaning behind his word. He decides that he has sufficiently enumerated Francis' many faults so that the angel and demon currently dozing on their small bed understand that being like Francis is bad.
Yes.
And with that, he kisses them both on their foreheads and rushes out of the room.
---
The boys pick up their language quickly and easily, reminding Francis and Arthur just how non-human they are. Because of this, they can't take much credit, but the two of them can't help but feel paternal pride at just how clever and well-spoken the boys are. Of course, this brings on the problems that parents with clever and well-spoken children typically have. Alfred especially, was incredibly curious and had a penchant for asking difficult questions.
"Arthur?"
"Yes, dear boy?"
"Why aren't Mattie's wings smooth like mine? His are so weird! You told us we're both from the same egg. But birds with different wings hatch in different looking eggs and never two at once, I've seen them!"
Matthew self-consciously draws his fluffy wings closer to his small body, embarrassed. From his face it's apparent that he believed himself to be an oddity.
"It's true Papa," he says sadly, looking over his shoulder at the white feathers that covered his wings. Francis all but squeaks behind Arthur as he rushes to cuddle Matthew in comfort.
"Your wings are perfect for you mon ange!" Francis reassures him. Matthew still looks hesitant, but still gives him a grateful kiss on his nose.
"But remember you aren't birds, Matthew. You don't have to worry you're - "
Arthur stops there because how can he tell them the truth of it? Of Angels? Of Demons and the conflicts between their kind? He doesn't think he can handle their reactions. Taking a side-glance at Francis, Arthur also sees the same hesitance in his face.
Luckily, he doesn't have to fret long. As usual, Alfred is already changing the track of the conversation.
"Where do eggs come from?" he demands to know. "Where did our egg come from?"
Arthur's at a loss, he has his theories about the egg but he knows nothing for sure. And he certainly does not want to explain the politics of Heaven and Hell to them. Much less the specifics of reproduction.
"W-well you see -"
"When Heaven and Hell - " Francis interrupts, grinning wide at the no-doubt clever joke he's keeping on the tip of his tongue.
"If you say 'love each other' I will beat you - "
"Now now, you shouldn't be so rough in front of the boys -" Francis laughs, dodging Arthur's angry swatting.
It's safe to say Alfred did not get his question answered that day.
---
That evening Francis sits across from him at the round kitchen table. It's dark, but he knows that Francis' expression is just as troubled as his.
"So how long do you think they'll wait before they come for them?"
"...I'm not sure."
"Ah, but you are sure that they will eventually claim the children."
"I only doubt that Heaven and Hell would bring two cherubs into the world only to forget them."
"But why a demon and an angel at once? And why here?"
"I don't think you could allow a demon to hatch in Heaven or vice versa. This place is probably the compromise."
"Arthur, they must be planning something."
Arthur's brow furrows, his head full of thoughts that have plagued him since the boys came into their lives. Angels and demons are not created for the fun of it. There must be a purpose and there is no way that the boys would be left ignored.
"I know."
---
"I - I don't want to leave them alone." Arthur hovers in the entryway, gathering basket in hand, frowning and anxiously glancing at the rounded wooden door down the hall.
The night is clear, and the full, bright moon casts the forest in a silver light. It was the first time such ideal conditions for a gathering occurred since the twins hatched.
Francis who is just pulling on his boots, pauses at the nervous tone and looks up at Arthur.
"I can always stay," he offers. "I know you've run out of those poisonous blue spindly plants and probably ogre's tongue or whatever horrid thing. And you don't really need me to find them."
"Stay?" Arthur echoes, looking surprised.
"Yes, I'll watch over them while you're out. What's wrong? It's the obvious solution, n'est-ce pas?"
Arthur is taken aback by that, because it was the obvious solution yet he didn't - hadn't -
"Right... thank you," he manages.
"You're welcome mon cher," Francis answers lightly, smiling already shrugging off his cloak and hanging it. "Besides, I'm nervous about leaving them behind as well."
"Right," Arthur says again and turns to the door. "I'll see you in a bit then."
A new sense of reluctance washes over him as he passes over the threshold. It's true that he didn't need Francis for the gathering but at the same time...
Think about the boys' safety.
He takes stubborn steps out of the clearing and into the darker forest, well aware of how quiet the woods were tonight. A familiar feeling gnaws at his chest, and for the first time, he's not sure how to deal with it.
It's been a long time since he felt alone.
---
Alfred first attempts to fly by flinging himself off a tree branch (one of the lower ones - thank goodness), and furiously flapping his tiny wings, only to be caught by a mysterious whirl of wind, easing him to the ground. Meanwhile, Matthew hops around the garden, after the birds, occasionally tripping after a particularly overzealous hop. Arthur has been running after the boys the entire morning. Francis is yet to return from a week's absence and the boys only stop crying when Arthur promises to let them play outside.
Upon taking them to the garden, the boys immediately take off, imitating the birds that flocked to the enchanted glen.
There is a sweetness in the way that the birds land upon Matthew's head and small shoulders looking as if they would carry him off into the sky. They tug curiously at him and leave assorted feathers in his hair after taking off. Alfred is just as endearing as he brightens and grins in awe at how they glide so smoothly through the air. And Arthur, one whose feet has always been firmly planted to the ground is unsure how to help them achieve flight and only performs enough magic to keep bruises and scrapes minimal.
He wonders if it is in their nature to be so determined to fly.
The boys' play is interrupted by Francis' return and as usual, they rush to greet him. The vampire's arms are full of packages and he is handing both Matthew and Alfred their own large, wrapped box as Arthur approaches them. He only gets a sheepish grin as a greeting before Francis immediately returns his attention to the boys who are struggling with the bows and boxes. Arthur is almost too curious regarding the contents of the packages to feel left out. Almost.
Alfred receives a kite, the image on the package revealing that kite folded out, to resemble his wings - black and smooth. Francis explains that the kite will fly if the wind is right (he looks pointedly at Arthur) and if he runs really, really fast.
Matthew's box reveals a large, white, stuffed polar bear, which he clings to and whispers Kumajirou.
"Matthew, what language was that -" Arthur begins to ask but Alfred interrupts, exclaiming that they should tie his bear to the kite and see what happens, earning himself a horrified look from Matthew.
The boys thank Francis with more hugs and kisses and the man happily accepts them.
"And what have you all been up to?" Francis asks them.
"We've been flying!" Alfred tells him excitedly. "Sort of."
"We're not very good at it yet," Matthew explains.
"Oh really? How high up did you get?"
He puts the boys down to the grass so that they can show him their progress, which is still not much at all.
"Hmm," Francis frowns and puts his hand on his chin, making a show of his deliberation. "Can you boys reach up here?"
He takes an upward step - as if onto a stepping stool and stands unsuspended in the air, a foot above them.
Ohhhh! The boys scramble and flap their wings to try and reach up to Francis with no success. They resemble jumping kangaroos more than they do flying birds.
One by one, Francis takes them into his arms and walks up into the air. Holding them as they stretch practice stretching out their arms out, giggling and flapping their small wings as Francis lets go of them for a second that stops Arthur's breathing and catches them before they drop beyond reach.
"Did you want a turn Arthur?" Francis calls cheerily down to him. "Later on, I could teach you to fly too!"
Arthur flushes, and thinks for a moment, nodding before he can stop himself.
---
"Are they asleep?" Francis asks, as Arthur exits the hut, shutting the door carefully behind him.
"Yes, I've just put them to bed. Poor things tired themselves out trying to fly today," Arthur says, taking in the sight of Francis in the alluring starlight that illuminated the garden as excitement and nervousness flutter through him all at once. Even for a vampire, he was always too mesmerizing for his own good.
"So you can actually teach me? How to fly?"
"Well, no - it's not exactly flying that I do, after all. And you don't have wings, so you can't fly like the boys." Francis walks towards him, and gently wraps an arm around him, rests a hand near his shoulder blades and captures his other hand.
"But there are alternatives."
Before Arthur can object, he leads them into a waltz across the dark green grass and they sway to the music that only Francis hears, underneath the shining stars. Incredibly red-faced, but not having a particularly awful time, Arthur begins to wonder if this is one of Francis' tricks.
"But how - "
Francis hushes him.
"Don't over think it." And he continues to lead him gracefully around the clearing. Francis' eyes are closed at the moment, concentrating on the tune in his head, but when they open they are as deep and inviting as the dark blue of the ocean. Arthur can barely stand to keep his eyes on Francis' face so he settles for staring at the their entwined hands and still - still he knows that Francis is smiling at him.
For all their time together, even with the boys, they had never stood quite so close, never in such an intimate way. Arthur tells himself this is only for now, for the purpose of flying. He takes in the pleasant warmth between them as he is guided through a tuneless dance.
"Arthur."
This time he meets Francis' eyes and suddenly their next steps - Francis' backward right, his forward left - are suspended in the air and he almost trips in surprise, but Francis urges him back on track and their next steps float them along their airy evening dance floor.
"T-this is amazing!" Arthur breathlessly exclaims, paying no mind to how ridiculous he must sound, looking down at his feet cushioned by nothing but air. Francis looks pleased. The hopeful part of Arthur's mind notes that Francis always seemed to look that way after Arthur smiles. Unused to the feeling of being in the air, Arthur instinctively pulls himself closer to Francis as they move, until they are less than a hand's length apart.
He sneaks glances towards the ground in wonder; the one-two-three of their dance syncopating with the quickening beat of his heart. For once he is not the source of the magic and he savours it, is enraptured and enthralled by the ease in which he stays afloat. His fear of falling fades and slips out of his realm of possibility, leaving him to concentrate on the hush of the wind, the sight of the shimmering glen and the feel of Francis' arms.
They waltz so that the tallest of tall grass blades only skim the soles of their feet. Francis takes them higher still until they were part of the sky, until they dance between the Earth and the stars.
And it is there, ensconced within the diamond-filled night sky, that the once lonely mage finally allows himself fall in love.
---
They stay like that for some time, just floating amongst the stars as if they, in all their immortality belonged there too.
There is a kiss.
A kiss that is wet and soft and warm with a shining fire that must have been borrowed from the burning heat of a distant star or perhaps the depths of a loosed heart. Hands clutch onto a clothed chest, while another gently cards through short, choppy blonde hair. It is a revealing kiss. It is Francis revealing why he stays and Arthur admitting why he does not make him go.
---
Francis seems content to stay silent, holding them there as they sway back and forth. Arthur's head finds Francis' shoulder and neither were in a rush to remove it. Arthur closes his eyes and wants to stay here - not necessarily this time and place but this state in which he knows that he has the boys and he knows that he has Francis and he never wants to return to feeling that he has no one.
He feels Francis tense and he is saying something but -
"What?"
"The stars are falling."
Arthur's eyes fly open to see that they are. Shooting stars can be pretty and leave blinding streaks across the dark blanket of night but tonight it looks as if the sky is falling apart all at once. The streaks of light are terrifying, leaving bright gashes upon the blackness as thousands of sparkling spheres spiral out of place and disappear over the landscape.
"Something's wrong - the boys -"
They're on the ground at once and Francis is speeding towards the front door of the hut, and attempts to wrench it open. The door rattles in its frame.
"It's not opening!"
The lines of light are fading. It's getting darker and Arthur isn't thinking anymore.
He swings a glowing hand out in front of him, and the wooden door disintegrates into smouldering ash. The two of them rush out of the darkening night and through the barely-lit entranceway. Francis is a step in front of him when he is thrown into the far wall.
"Francis -!" Arthur yells but is cut off when a thick shadowy hand grabs the front of his cloak and he is lifted off the ground. He struggles in its grasp but it only lifts him higher until he is facing what he presumes is the head and he realizes that the creature has no face.
A Shade. The shadow that takes the rough form of a human, consists of menacing smooth inky-black medium with no eyes, no mouth but Arthur can hear the terrible thing when it speaks:
Take the boy. Kill the other.
There is movement behind the Shade as other shadows acknowledge the command and the words echo back to Arthur turning to agony in his mind. Take the boy. Kill the other. Takekilltakekillkillkillkillkill.
Arthur struggles harder in its grasp, punching, kicking and scratching uselessly at the Shade that suspends him. He tries to summon magic but it doesn't come.
There is a growl and Arthur drops to the ground as Francis attempts to tackle the Shade but misses when the shadow sinks into a dark puddle on the floor. Arthur is running to Alfred and Matthew's room to find two Shades looming over their bed, the boys are still asleep, holding each other's hands as usual. The Shades are taking turns striking the air over the boys' sleeping forms. Each hit incites a bright flash of light and the heated aura of frustration around them is palpable.
Arthur tries his magic again, extreme relief in his heart when he feels the tingling warmth collect around his hands. He reaches out with both hands and pulls, sending the Shades flying to the other side of the room, opposite the boys' bed. With one hand he summons a blast of destructive light and the Shades disintegrate as easily as the door had.
His hands are cramping from the strain when the magic in his hands are extinguished once again. And suddenly he is held in the air - this time a single tendril of darkness is wrapped around his midsection and holds him aloft, pressing his arms to his sides. It extends from the arm of the Shade leader from earlier and it brings him closer and flips him so that he hangs upside down. Its other arm is in the shape of a dark blade pressed threateningly to his throat.
Sorcerer, it hisses calmly.
"Let them be!"Arthur yells and attempts to free himself, only succeeding in kicking futilely in the air. "Let them be! They're only children."
Fortunate. Our orders... are changed.
The appendage wrapped around him squeezes and the air rushes out of Arthur.
He... will come to us... of his own will.
"No!" Arthur denies because he can only think of one place these Shades could hail from. But Alfred would never - never go -!
It is certain.
He is slammed into the floor and pain shoots through his left side. And from his painful place on the cold wooden boards he can see the Shade is already sinking slowly into the ground.
And you may wish... to tend to that one, it says in a voice full of mocking and static, shadowy head tilting towards the door before it finally disappears.
Sparks of pain shoot up to his shoulder when he pushes off the ground. His hands ache. He glances at the boys who are still sound asleep and staggers out into the hallway.
Francis is a crumpled heap on the ground, bleeding profusely from his torso. Arthur is at his side at once.
"Are the boys alright?" Francis asks first.
"Yes they're okay, still asleep - the sweetlings... Must you always get yourself stabbed in the chest?" he says, turning Francis over onto his back and Francis' chuckle hitches in pain.
"I've survived it before," Francis reminds him, attempting to sit up. Arthur stops him with a hand and his arm aches.
"Because of me."
"Because of you," he agrees, resting an uninjured hand over Arthur's.
---
Arthur is bandaging him, muttering healing spells while commanding him to be quiet and stay still. Of course Francis doesn't.
"Arthur...how did you stop them from taking Alfred?"
Arthur frowns in the dark of the room, still shaken by earlier evens. This is not a conversation he wants to have so soon.
"It was like a light shield - a barrier above the bed. They couldn't reach the children."
"You don't think that... well, Heaven wouldn't leave its child defenceless on earth, right? They must have granted Matthew some sort of protection."
Arthur agrees, but thankful as he is that the safeguard was there, he worries about what the demons had said, and another part of him doesn't doubt that at some point Heaven would eventually come for Matthew too. Cold, biting fear eats at him all over again as his mind races, and all he wishes sorely that he was powerful enough to combat the wills of Heaven and Hell.
He closes his eyes, and his mouth curves down, trying to banish the thoughts of losing the boys. Losing everything.
Even injured, Francis can read him as easily as ever. He beckons Arthur closer, tugging and pulling until Arthur is within reach - and he presses his lips against Arthur's forehead.
"Arthur... we will figure it out. You're not going to fight alone - that's not what families do."
Arthur starts at that word, because he's spent his existence thinking family are people that you're born with - not vampires that you find injured in the woods, not angels and demons that hatched in your kitchen. Though what else can he call the ones who have so deftly managed to secure a place in his heart?
"Well you better heal up a lot faster, you idiot. Since I'm not fighting alone and all."
Francis' smile is one to remember.
---
Francis and Arthur decide to keep that night a secret, not wanting to scare the poor toddlers. Even though the twins slept through the entire ordeal, they must have been affected in some way as Alfred and Matthew ask to sleep in Arthur's bed the next morning.
"Matthew and I had bad dreams," Alfred tells him as Matthew pats his small shoulder comfortingly.
"Of course," Arthur says smiling, inwardly relieved that the boys wanted to stay close.
Trying to act as normally as possible, he kisses the tops of their heads, and tells them that Francis is sick and so the three serve Francis breakfast-in-bed in order to keep the boys from noticing the wounded way that he moved.
Later that evening, he is shepherding the two into bed when Matthew asks if Francis could join them.
"I'm worried about Papa," Matthew explains. And Alfred nods. To their confusion, Arthur's face turns different shades of red while he considers asking Francis to sleep with them.
"We're worried about you too," Alfred reassures him, misinterpreting Arthur's reaction.
"Alfred and I think that if we all stay together we will be more safe!" Matthew proclaims and the twins climb onto Arthur's legs - the better to use big, wibbly eyes at him.
Arthur is all weak resolve and embarrassment.
"I-if you want him here, then you two should ask him." Alfred and Matthew are delighted.
"Okay!" they chime and race off to Francis' room.
They return within the minute, leading a laughing, almost healed Francis by each hand.
"Thank you boys," he says fondly. He sees Arthur still on the bed, who is fighting the urge to hide under the sheets.
"Ah Arthur. Summoning me to your bed using the children?" Francis asks, eyes twinkling. "Interesting." Arthur only huffs at him.
Matthew and Alfred clamber onto the bed beside Arthur, pulling the blankets up to their chins, eyes wide with excitement as they wait for Francis to climb in too.
Francis makes his way to the other side of the bed and pulls a blanket over himself and his grins down at the two boys who seem appeased now that the four of them were together.
"Goodnight's" ring out between the four of them and boys are the first to fall asleep.
There is a moment in which these four unlikely companions - family now, fill the pause with the soft sounds of their breathing before Arthur and Francis silently reach for each other across the bed and link warm hands just above the boys, keeping them together throughout the night, wishing for forever.