Once Upon A Tale

It was a really horrible aspect of his personality that even if the people in the village throw sticks and stones at him, cursing him under their breath, when trouble came in the form of a rampant Wendigo they (a weeping girl, actually, any) would come and beg him for help. He cursed his master for teaching him amongst the spells and potions how to be gentlemanly and with the additional encouragement of a cane, a gentleman he was; which ultimately meant ignoring all hostilities from that cluster of houses a little way out of the outskirts of the woods and getting rid of that Wendigo.

Ah, at least it was just one. Who knows, they might even warm up to him and finally accept his gifts of home-made scones. (Coincidentally, the rocky relationship he had with the villagers grew worse when someone accepted and ate the scone. He swore he didn't use any magic on it. He really didn't.)

He snarled under his breath as the fireball he conjured up missed the Wendigo by a good length - not even a hair was singed - and caused a nearby tree to burst into flames. Wendigos were actually not known to be gentle creatures, hulking away in the mountains and rubbing shoulders with the yetis; Hecate knows why this particular one decided to get adventurous. The creature in question noticed the burning tree and charged over to it, distracted by the flames.

He decided that perhaps he would have time to attempt a larger spell, one to sedate the bloody thing, but first, he needed it to /stay still/. Although it would be more effective to kill it, the Council over in the city somewhere would descend onto him like hawks for breaking the First Law: To Kill By Magic Is To Die By Your Own. Although he had never witnessed an execution, the thought of your own magic burning your mind and body sounded quite painful and unwelcome indeed. He grabbed his staff and leveled it at the Wendigo.

"Impendimenta!"

It hit, this time, and froze in an imitation of a person jumping off a cliff - limbs frozen in midair and whatnot. Arthur let out a breath and began muttering a sedation spell; the teleportatiom back to its home range would have to be done later as it required a circle. Everything seemed fine, and after all this mess he'll have crumpets and tea and hopefully some grateful villagers over-

The first stone hit his head.

The second hit his arm.

The third hit the Wendigo, free of the spell. It gave a roar and began thrashing the field, again.

"Bollocks," he muttered, face-down on the ground. "Just. Bollocks."

After running all night, Alfred riding on his faithful horse Tony, tried not to doze off. He had to get away from the place he called home. His adopted mother kept him on the farm, never seeing the outside side world. A prisoner ever since his parents died. Well until last night.

Lately Alfred has been waking up a lot in the middle of the night because of the dreams and nightmares. Almost every night he wakes up not remembering and a pain in his chest. These dreams were a sign. He needed to get out of the farm.

Mother is probably so angry right now.

Now passing by some outskirts of a forest, Tony started freaking out. Alfred blinked, “Tony, what’s wrong?”

Noise came from the field. Alfred turned the horse toward the sound, curious of what is it. Something passed by them and roared. Tony front legs when in the air, throwing his owner on the ground and ran away freighted. “Tony!”

Alfred got up, flinching. His only friend just ran off, now what? Walking to the direction the horse went seems was the only thing to do. Down by the fields, a bunch of people throwing rocks at sandy blonde man on the ground.

“Hey, stop it,” Alfred yelled as he stood in front of the man. “Stop throwing rocks!”

They didn’t stopped throwing, hitting him now. He didn’t want to do this, but he picked up the man and ran into the woods.

(man, i fail XDDDD.)

Arthur was quite tired. Two spells was quite draining, even for him, especially when he couldn't concentrate with sharp flashes of pain peppering his body with every object the villagers threw. It was all fine and dandy that the Wendigo decided to run off somewhere (hopefully the mountains, somewhere far, far away from him), but getting up and running was a bit too much for him. He wondered if he played dead, would the villagers leave...?

Someone was shouting, and he curled himself up into a ball. Leave, he thought, leave, leave, leave. They'll get tired and they'll get scared by his unresponsive state and they'll think up a reason to fear him even more. The blows grew heavier as he felt them approaching - he reckoned he'll have plenty of bruises by the time it was over.

He felt himself being lifted up, and prepared for the cries of 'Burn him! Burn him!' to come - and they never did. A rush of air whistling past his ears indicated that the person carrying him was running, and into the woods with the change of clean and crisp air. He cracked open an eye reluctantly (the warmth was so nice) and peered up at his (savior's? kidnapper's?) countenance.

Well... not that he can see much of it, considering his chin and nose were blocking most of his features. He made out a shock of hair as gold as the wheat fields during harvest time and well, nothing else.

It was only after a few minutes that the current situation set in - he was being carried away, by a stranger, deep into the woods, where no one else was (not that that point really mattered anyway), and he was doing nothing. What was this stranger's purpose?! Was he going to execute him on behalf of the villagers? Was he going to maim him and leave him for the wolves to find and eat? Or... or...

In his moment of panic and confusion, Arthur began to flail about. When that proved to be as successful as listening to a Mandrake's cry without fainting, he reached for the stranger's elbow, touched it, and muttered, "Fuego."

The effect was instantaneous. He sent a shock of pain through the stranger's body - which in turn wasn't quite a smart move, considering he was thrown into a tree. He staggered up, seeing stars and perhaps planets, rounded on the stranger.

"Who are you?" he snarled, carrying himself with the air of a cornered animal, gentleman attitude be damned. "What are you going to do to me?" He reached for his staff and found nothing - it must have been left behind in the fields. This stranger was efficient, and Arthur defenseless. He was doomed.

(Derp. At least yours isn't THIS long. >.< No such thing as fail! 8D)

Alfred kept running, looking back quickly to see if anyone followed him. Nope. Suddenly he thought he felt the man move in his arms. Is the man a wake? Out of nowhere, a jolt of pain went down his body and he threw the man as the result.

His eyes grew wide when the man hit a tree. Alfred about to go to the man, but stopped in his tracks as he saw the guy stood up. In bewilderment, he stared at the man. The guy had big eyebrows but his eye were the features at had the most attention. His eyes glowed emerald green like never seen before.

“You’re a wake,” he smiled, “I saved you from those bullies who throw rocks at you. Thank god I was passing by or you would have been badly hurt, possibly killed. Speaking of, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Alfred stepped closer, wanting to help without trying scaring the man more.

He backed away into the tree, pressing himself up against it. 'Calm down, Arthur,' he thought wildly, 'calm down.' He assessed the stranger, now having a clearer point of view of his face. His body posture was relaxed, as if trying to convince him that he won't hurt him. Ha, who did he think Arthur was? A fool? His clothes were in disarray, no doubt from running. His hair was slightly mussed, save for a single cowlick that stood straight up. And his eyes... a startlingly clear sky blue; so honest and rare it threw Arthur off for a moment.

No. Even if this person looked honest, it doesn't mean he is.

"Bullies? You mean the villagers. Don't you even know who hired you to dispose of me?" He drew himself to his full height (which sadly was not even reaching the stranger's) and winced, his body aching all over as if in protest of being alive. "Don't you dare lie to me, I will not be fooled. You took my staff from me, did you think I would not notice?"

The staff... was very important to Arthur, both in terms of magic and value. With the staff, he could focus his magic and direct it more efficiently, reducing the chances of blowing himself up sky-high or losing control of his powers. Without it, the best he dared to produce was a small gust of wind or a tiny flame. Also, it was made by his master - carved out of oak and inscribed with hand-picked runes - before he disappeared.

He'll be damned if he falls for this stranger's claims - hook, line and sinker.

Alfred stopped himself again. This man didn’t believe him. “I’m not lying. I’m a traveler who just was passing by and saw you in danger. I know nobody in that village and they didn’t pay me too.”

Okay, he lied about being a traveler. He couldn’t tell anyone that he is a run away farm boy, escaping his overprotective adopted mother and his life on a farm. But he has to show he is not lying. Maybe he should go back, get the man’s staff man. Alfred didn’t see the staff, guessing that running away for almost a day without food or rest started to affect him. His vision was a bit hazy, both his head and stomach hurt. It’s not going to stop him now.

“Stay here. I’ll go get you’re staff back,” Alfred turn back toward the direction of the village. “And you’ll better believe me when I come back.”

He ran back out of the woods, back into the village. A group of men stand around talking; one of them had a staff in his hands. That must be it. Alfred charged without thinking, punching the one with the staff in his hand. He quickly grabbed the piece of wood, not know he was about the hit from behind. After the blow to the back, the other men began the beat the farm boy up.

He eyed the so-called traveler with no less suspicion than before. Ha, who did he think Arthur was? A fool? There was plenty of reasons why one would want to rid their area of a resident witch - he just had to find his. However, before Arthur could voice his accusations, the boy had turned heel and ran, shouting something about retrieving his staff and believing him when he came back.

After a few minutes of stunned indignation, Arthur chased after the retreating figure. Even if he wanted to leave the stranger to his own devices, his staff was in the hands of people he'd very much rather not see ever again. Bitten once, twice shy, was it? So he had no choice but to go in the same way the traveler went, which was back to the village. Not because he believed the stranger, of course not.

Still... That boy was terribly fast. He emerged from the outskirts of the woods just in time to see the said boy getting pummelled into the ground. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the scene unfolding before him - why would the villagers beat up someone who was helping them? Unless...

The boy was telling the truth after all.

He got onto his knees, grabbing a nearby stick and scratching an illusion circle onto the ground. Hopefully, the villagers would be scared shitless and run away before realising that what 'returned' was fake. He poured his magic and concentration into the circle, the tendrils of raw magic reaching up and twisting itself into the carbon copy of the Wendigo that had ran rampant earlier. The 'Wendigo' gave a very satisfactory roar as he cut the circle open, charging at the group which scattered before impact.

He strode over to the fallen traveler, yanking him up by his arm and dragging him towards the general direction of his home. Upon checking that no villagers were in sight, the Wendigo dissolved with a wave of his retrieved staff. "You," he gritted out, "are one of the most daft person I ever knew. Who in the name of Hecate taught you to charge in headfirst into a situation before knowing what it's even about? Where's your common sense? Did you even stop to think about whether the person even wanted your help?"

Alfred closed his eye, holding the staff firmly in hands. He had no chance to fight back. Surrounded by the villager, getting punched and kicked on the ground. So much for being a hero. About to pass out right there, he heard a roar. The beating stopped, the men fled.

About to think, what happen he was pulled up forcibly and dragged. Alfred opened his eyes partially to see the man he saved hazily. The man seem angry as he talk, he can only made up little of what he said. “I-I got the staff back.”

The pain adding with his tiredness and hunger was finally taking its toll. The next step, Alfred blacked out.

(couldn't really think XDDDD ah well.)

" -knows what is even in your head- Yes, I can see that, lad." He snapped at him, his angry tirade broken for a moment. He took a deep breath as he trudged on, winded from the combination of dragging someone while brisk-walking and talking at the rate of fifty words per minute.

Suddenly, the weight on his shoulder got heavier. He stumbled, regaining his balance after a few steps. "Oi, what's up with you?!" To his dismay, apparently the boy had fainted on him. "Hey! You're not the lightest load to walk the plains, you know?" When cussing the traveler out did not seem to achieve anything in the slightest, he switched tactics to dragging him, albeit slowly home.

Well... Actually, it was the same thing as before. (Except the lad was concious, but that's a minor detail.)

*****

After hefting the traveler into his bed, Arthur retreated to the depths of his home, into the basement where he kept his ingredients and cauldron. It was dark and dank... Fine, maybe not. It was well-lit and quite dry, considering he had to keep the herbs and roots away from moisture and rot. You couldn't find mice nor cockroaches, and you definitely will not find frogs nor toads.

He strode over to an open book on a stand, flipping until he found what he wanted.
"A strength-regaining draught... Hm... Or should I make the healing potion..." In the end, he decided on the latter and began gathering the materials.

An hour or so later, he was done - with plenty of scalds all over and dripping wet (It was NOT his fault, the cauldron was old and liked to spurt jets of hot water and regurgiate the ingredients onto him) - victorious and holding a bottle of the lime green draught. He took a swig of it and winced.

"Ah well," he thought, "It tasted better than the other time." The potion set in, erasing the bruises and making him feel rejuvenated. He returned to the bedroom and waited for the boy to wake up.

((That thing tastes horrid. A heads-up. ))

The world looked bigger, as Alfred stood in the middle of a dark forest by himself. He came to a puddle and found that he was a little child. A twig snaps from behind. He turned, to see a huge shadow behind him.

“Come here Alfie. Yes, I know who you are,” said the shadow.

Alfred shook his head scared.

“It’s ok; I’m not going to harm you, Alfie. Come here, I’ll take you back come to your mother.” The shadow extended it arms towards him.

He backed up away.

“Come Here, Alfie~” Hands reached him as darkness cover his vision. Alfred screamed, eyes shutting tight.

--

His eyes flew open and the upper part of his body shot up. A hand when over his burning chest, breathing heavily. After a few minutes, Alfred calmed down. Just a nightmare, wait and he remember it. He never remembers it when he woke up! Then finally he notice, something. This is not his bed, this is not his room. Looking around, he saw the sandy blonde man, jumped then tumbled off the bed onto the floor.

Arthur was conflicted on what to do. The traveler had started to toss and turn about in the bed, groaning muffedly into the pillow as if he was in pain. Should he wake him up? But what happens if he jolts awake and think Arthur was harbouring ill intentions towards him? It has been so long since he had another human for company, he realised with a pang, he didn't have a clue what was acceptable in human society.

His contemplating (overthinking) was cut short when the boy shot up, took a look at him and attempted a sort of hop-tumble out of the bed onto the cold hard floor. He almost rushed forward but refrained from doing so at the last moment, waiting for the stranger to get his bearings before awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Greetings," he said nervously behind a facade of nonchalance; he almost wanted to slap himself already. When his master had said it it sounded so mature and sophisticated; when he said it, it sounded very akward and terribly lame. "Welcome to my house. You passed out earlier and I, um, brought you here..."

Oh, heavens above and hell below, he wanted to hide and cry. He was making himself sound like those villains in the books he managed to obtain as payment from the rare villager! But his master had always told him to finish what he started, so venture on bravely he will. "Thank you for saving me earlier," he blurted out. To distract anyone from his progressively reddening face, he thrust the bottle of healing potion into the traveler's hands. "Drink. It'll make you feel better." He looked away, not daring to look at his face. "It's not poison, I promise."

It felt rather ironic to Arthur that hours ago their positions were reversed - if he had known earlier, he wouldn't be half as mean to the traveler.

Alfred sat up after falling on the floor, staring at the man. He’s at the sandy blonde’s house? Oh thank god it wasn’t a dream; it would suck waking up back in the farm.

Did the man say thank you? Before he was terrified and angry before. Well, he seemed like the type of person unhappy most of the time. Maybe lonely too, seeing the villagers didn’t like him. “Y-Your welcome.”

Now looking at the bottle confused, Alfred felt kind of suspicious, but he drank whatever in the bottle anyways. Reaction, coughing. “What the hell was that? It tasted horrible!”

Unexpectedly the bruises and cuts vanished. How? What? The villagers throwing rocks, the staff, this nasty tasting drink that magically took away his injuries. Why did he realize this? Alfred eyes widen, “Y-You’re…You’re…”

Arthur sighed mentally in relief. Well, that went better than he could have ever imagined. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, watching the traveler drink from the bottle. 

"That's a healing potion," he informed him through the stranger's bouts of coughing. "This one tasted better than the others, so I think it's rather successful."

Too much, Arthur realized with a jolt, he had given out too much information. Only apothecaries and well, practitioners of magic could make potions and draughts, and the former could distribute it. The traveler's eyes widened, and anyone could figure out he knew what Arthur was. Somewhere deep inside Arthur felt hurt - this person, even if he saved him, was no different from the rest - mistrustful of witches and afraid of magic. He should have given him a scone and sent him on his way to wherever he wished to go.

But what to do now? He couldn't very well just kick him out, the boy had only just woken up. He settled on treating his 'guest' with courtesy then telling him in implied terms that he should get out and be on his way. Arthur turned his head, reluctant to look at him anymore. "You're a traveler, I believe? The nearest town is Caledonia, just west of the village. It'll take you about a day to reach there if you leave now..."

Augh, Stupid! Alfred shouldn't freak about that. He probably hurt the guy more than the villagers. "I-I'm sorry, I just never seen magic before. Thank you for the potion."

The truth is he wanted to meet a witch. He felt bad for them because his adopt mother was just like the villagers. She chased witches out every time they got near the farm. Plus she always told him to never trust a witch, but that was back at the farm. Alfred ran away, free from the farm, so why not make friends with a witch.

"My name is Alfred. Do you don't mind if stay here for a few days? I need some rest from traveling." Well, he had to come up with an excuse to stay. “Plus I can't travel without my horse..."

Oh crap, he forgot. How could he? "Tony! He ran away when we heard a roar. I fell off and went to go look for him but...!"

He was apologizing? Arthur could hardly believe his ears. He nearly stuttered, his relief almost tangible. "I see. You're welcome, although this is nothing compared to what you did for me."

"I'm called Arthur," he introduced himself. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alfred." Although Arthur himself very much doubted anyone could be tired after the potion's effects setting in, he decided to not think about it. A few days wouldn't hurt... (Even if he did find himself later at times regretting meeting Alfred.)

He was about to say, not at all, you can stay, but Alfred cut in about his horse. "Your horse...? I can help you find it. It shouldn't have gone very far, considering that it has only been a few hours." He mused over it for a few seconds. "If need be, I can ask some of my friends whether they've seen him."

Somewhere in the middle of his thought process, Arthur conveniently forgot to mention that his friends were the Fey and that Alfred could stay.

Friends? Arthur had friends? But where? The villager didn’t like him so how? “Sure. Your friends can help out too. We will find him quicker if we had more people looking for him. Oh, Tony is a grey horse.”

Soon, Alfred was now back outside, searching every where for his horse. An hour passed and still no luck finding him. “Tony. Tony! Tony, where are you?”

While looking, Alfred remembered, Arthur didn’t get to respond for him to stay for a few days. He glanced at Arthur. “U-Um, sorry to ask again while we’re busy, but is it okay if I can stay I few days?”

Arthur nodded. "Very well. I will join you later, after I contact them." He rose up and went out into the garden as Alfred ran outside to get a head start on looking for his horse. Along the way, he grabbed a ceramic bowl, milk and honey from his kitchen as well as his staff.

He poured the milk and honey into the bowl, drawing a circle around it. He then sat back, hidden from sight, and waited.

The first flicker of lights came a few minutes later, circling around the bowl before finally shooting straight into the bowl. Which was all Arthur needed - so he leveled his staff at the bowl and shouted, "Petrificus!"

The bowl - or more accurately, the Fey in the bowl - gave an enraged screech and something slammed against the invisible wall built, courtesy of the circle set up in advance. Arthur stood up, shaking leaves off, and strode forward.

The Fey in question finally shimmered into view after realizing there was no escape unless Arthur decided to let him go. It glared at him, his blue eyes and large eyebrows made even more prominent. 

"Jerk Arthur! I should have guessed it was you!"

He sighed. "Yes, Peter. Why couldn't I get Wy...? She is certainly more agreeable than you..."

Peter harrumphed in indignation. "You prefer her over me? You unfair jerk! Let me go!"

"Not until you promise me some things," Arthur immediately said. Peter immediately started to disagree until Arthur pointed out there was no way of negotiating his way out. "I just need you to help me find out where is my... Guest's horse. It's grey and called Tony."

Peter scowled. "Who said I was going to help you?" At Arthur's blank face, his scowl deepened. "Fine. I promise that I'll help you find out where Tony the grey horse is."

Arthur cut open the circle and Peter shot out in a ball of light. Not that he was too worried - the Fey couldn't lie, nor could they go back on their promises. Sure enough, Peter was back within minutes. "Jerk Arthur! JERK ARTHUR! I asked Wy who asked Seborga who asked Feliciano who asked his brother Lovino who said that he saw a 'fucking grey horse' around the way to Caledonia!"

Arthur hoped the horse wasn't fucking anyone. He filled the bowl up with milk and honey again, to which Peter took great delight in diving in. 

Now to find Alfred.

*****

Luckily, Alfred wasn't that hard to find considering he was moving through the woods with the grace of a bull in a china shop. "Alfred. Apparently your horse is somewhere along Caledonia's direction."

Didn't he tell him already he could stay? "Didn't I already say you could stay?" Arthur almost snapped. Being around Peter wasn't quite relaxing, so he was quite worked up.

“O-Oh, o-okay, I just wanted to make sure. I didn’t hear you, worrying about Tony too much,” Alfred put a hand behind his head with a goofy smile. “Let’s go get him then. Come with me, I might forget when you live.”

Heading west toward Caledonia, he eager it wasn’t going to take long. Arthur said it took a day. Hopefully Tony didn’t get far, he is the fastest horse he known. Few hours later, it was getting late and Alfred sort of felt giving up. “Tony! Toooony!”

A whining noise sounded. Alfred turned, “Tony?”

The gray horse eating the grass, taking a break from running saw his owner and walked to him. Alfred petted him. “There you are, I worried about you so much. Hey, we’re going to stay at this man, Arthur’s place for a few days. Okay?”

Tony stared at Arthur.

Arthur nodded, accepting the explanation (even though he was the one who actually forgot). "Let's move quickly, lest he goes past Caledonia or gets found by someone."

While Alfred shouted for his horse, Arthur kept an eye out instead. Although the woods were relatively safe, the rampant Wendigo earlier was a reminder that you can never let your guard down. He trudged after Alfred, until finally, they found his horse.

Arthur was slightly amused at the way Alfred talked to his horse - it reminded him of the way he talked to Minty, a sprite who was quite fond of the form of a green flying bunny. Speaking of which, where is she...?

Then the horse stared at Arthur.

Arthur scowled back. Animals never did like him. He never did like animals either. He turned around, intent on returning home. "Wonderful. Let us return, the sun is setting. It'll be harder to move around and see by then"

Obvious to that Tony didn’t like Arthur, Alfred had an idea. “Let’s ride Tony. We can get back faster that way.”

Tony whined again, disagreeing. Alfred grabbed Tony’s reins, pulling his horse closer. Not going to let his horse be rude around their host. Without letting Arthur say something, he snatched the sandy blonde and put him on the horse. Afterward he got on himself, in front of Arthur. “Hold tight.”

Less the time to the walk toward Caledonia, they where soon back at Arthur’s. It was almost fully dark. Alfred chucked a bit as he got off. “Sorry, but did you enjoy the ride?”

--

Since Tony was found, far away, hiding along the trees, something stalked the two men. It followed wondering. Shortly after the arrival outside Arthur’s house, it smiled then disappeared.

Arthur walked on - at least until something grabbed him and put him on an equally disgruntled Tony. He spluttered and flailed to no avail. "What do you think you're doing- Unhand me, you git!"

All and any protests were cut off when Alfred clambered in front and shot off. Arthur latched onto the taller boy's back and clung on for dear life. The green of the forest blurred into a continous scenery; and Arthur tilted his head back, closed his eyes and enjoyed the wind rushing against his ears and face, the crisp and cooling air sharp against his nose, Alfred's strangely comfortable smell of cinnamon, hay and something metallic...

Had Arthur been more aware, he would have noticed the presence of something stalking them, following them. But as he was, he was not, so the thing was left shrouded in shadows, unknown.

*****

He clambered down shortly after, careful to immediately put distance between him and the grey horse. "Yes, thank you," he said shortly, and immediately hit Alfred on the shin with his staff. "But that's for not giving me fair warning beforehand."

He pushed open the door and set to work lighting the candles and lamps scattered around his home. "I'll draw up a bath for you'" he called back over his shoulder. "I'm sure you're quite tired from searching for Tony. He can graze in my garden in the meantime - just make sure he stays away from the mandrakes."

He chanced a look outside and the bowl was empty. Peter must have finished the whole thing by himself, the greedy thing. He entered the bathroom and filled up the tub, tapping it with his staff when full. "Fuego," he muttered, and the water heated up.

Magic. A terribly useful thing.  

Alfred wined as the staff hit his shin, but kept the goofy smile on his face. He nodded when Arthur said he’ll draw up a bath for him. “Okay. Come Tony.”

He led Tony to the garden, Alfred pause to stare. It was beautiful, bursting of mostly roses, other flowers and plants. Letting the horse graze, he petted him. “I know you don’t let anybody handle you, but please be nice to Arthur. He’s letting us hang here. I know we have to keep going, we only ran for a single night, but something inside me told me we need to be here. Arthur seems lonesome, just like me even though I have you, you’re my best friend. I want a human friend as well. Anyways, mother won’t find us here. Hopefully.”

Alfred hoped Arthur didn’t hear what he said. He tied Tony’s reins to a tree when the horse finished eating. Can’t have the mandrakes get eaten. He entered the house, to the bathroom. The water looked warm in the tub. “Thank you, Arthur.”

Stripped his clothes off, throwing them on the floor, quickly hopped in the tub. Alfred loved the warm water. The feeling of it made him comfortable and kind of sleepy. After a few minutes, he dozed off.

--

Another nightmare showed. Again in the forest and a little boy, but this time a lot of running. The boy was being chased. He tripped, face landing in some liquid. Alfred lifted his head, face cover in the red liquid and saw a dead corpse in front of him.

--

Alfred screamed in his sleep, trembling. While this happen, something appeared on his chest. A seal over a mark.

"You're welcome," Arthur replied. He quickly removed himself from the vicinity, reluctant to see his guest in his birthday suit. He collected the bowl from his garden, eyeing Tony tethered to a tree. "You'd better not go near my Mandrakes," he thought viciously.

Tony snorted and set his ears back, and moved just slightly towards the patch of Mandrakes, as if trying to prove his point (whatever it was). Arthur scowled, glowering at him in return. Damn horse was out to get him.

He headed down into his well-lit but now very wet basement, intent on doing some cleaning. The water was siphoned away with a wave of his staff, the splattering of the earlier ingredients pried off (unfortunately) off the walls by his own hands. The cauldron gave a wheeze and tottered back into place with a bit of prodding.

He was measuring out what had to be restocked when suddenly, Alfred screamed.

He pounded up the stairs, thinking wildly. What could have happened?! Did he get hurt, or was there malevolent spirit that somehow slipped past his wards? He burst into the room, forgetting all together about Alfred's choice of clothes, which was to say, none.

He froze. "I-I heard you scream," he stuttered, his face turning an alarming shade of red. "Is there a problem?" He should be looking away, he should be looking away, not down past Alfred's tanned chest- wait, was there something on it? He squinted, a sort of marking...?

Alfred eyes watered, still lost in the nightmare. He shook the dead body, asking her to wake up. She didn’t. Something or one grabbed the boy behind. He struggled, eyes still on the woman on the ground. “NOOOOO!”

Waking up, Alfred still shake, hand above his burning chest were the mark is. Back in the bathroom with… “A-Arthur?!”

He fell asleep in the tub full of water, naked, had a nightmare (again today) and woke up seeing Arthur in the room. This is embarrassing. Alfred grabbed a near by trowel trying to cover himself up, wetting it. “W- What are you doing here?”

While Alfred covered his body, the mark vanished.

...and it was gone. With a jolt, Arthur realized he was observing his guest in his full naked glory. "Uh- Um- Sorry!" He all but ran out of the room, cursing himself over and over.

"What was I thinking, what was I thinking, what was I thinking?!" He paced about the kitchen, frantic. Was this a result of not interacting with another person for years?! He was so ashamed of himself - how was he going to look Alfred in the face ever again?

After drinking some tea, Arthur calmed down. "Alright," he thought. " It's only a few days. Be a gracious host, stiff upper lip and all that, and he'll be gone." His thoughts drifted to the mark he was sure he saw on Alfred's chest. Was it a tattoo? Or perhaps it was a birthmark...