“Yeah.I mean– Thanks.That– You didn’t have to do that.And I’m not going to tell you who you can be friends with.”Well, that was reassuring.“I’m sure the kelpie and I can learn to stand each other.Just, maybe don’t leave us in a room alone together.Bo keeps telling me how ‘shy and hilarious’ the bastard is.Fucker wants to eat me.”
“You were kind to me, and received the curse attempting to help Bo.It ought to have been removed as soon as their trials were dealt with,” Declan countered.“And Everil’s well aware that if he harms you going forward, it will be one of the very last things he does.”
Everil and Declan hadn’tsaidthat, of course.But bonds carried with them some protection.You did not murder a friend’s bond.Not without their permission, which Declan would not give for this rough-edged, fidgeting human, the king of his metal castle.
If Declan could last over a century of Nimai breathing while tied to Everil, Everil could put up with his ‘sweet Bo’s’ friend living for four.And if Declan was slightly put out at Everil’s habit of either forgetting how time worked, or that sometimes people were left in the wreckage of his very intense feelings, that was Declan’s problem.
“...right,” said Antonio, looking appropriately put off as a human might, when they were just informed the fae they wished to tie their soul to could and would kill a friend for them.His words, too, had a keen edge to them.“What’s the rest of it?You’ve got a reason for all this.What do youwantfrom me?”
Oh good.An easy question, of sorts.
“I want a seat on the Council,” and they should start walking again, not watch each other within an arm’s reach, but Declan talked instead, shoulders easing while he did.“You need a bond for that.There’s been a motion to require majority approval on all new Council members for committees and Council alike, rather than having a successor take the seat.And there are no unseelie–what Calloway likely called death aligned–on the Council.I’ve seen what happens when the voiceless hit a boiling point.I’d rather avoid it.”
Of course, unseelie didn’t exist anymore, if one believed the rhetoric.Malin and Aisling made sure their children didn’t.At least this was a discussion about things Declan occupied his days with, rather than what he refused to let fill his nights.He uncurled his fingers.Made himself do so.
“That’s it?Just the Council, and a time crunch?”
“That’s the immediate reason, aye.The ‘time crunch.’But overall, I am not … palatable.One of the ‘good ones’ as far as unseelie go.Parents tied to power not frequently seen, strength and social skills of my own, civilized, good at rubbing elbows.”Too much so.It made him dangerous.Anathema.And yes, Declan sneered.“You ask creatures like me to parties.You don’t ask them to dance.I’d much rather spend four hundred years tied to someone who might, perhaps, not mind my company one day, rather than survive a millenia alone.”
Pathetic.He had to look away to finish speaking, head tipped back to peer into the sky, wings relaxed so the tips brushed the back of his legs.A clear night, stars sparkling overhead.May as well get the dramatics out of the way, after all.
Silence, again.But not rejection, nor Antonio fleeing him.That was something.
“Reis men don’t tend to live past seventy,” is what Antonio said after an impressive amount of time watching Declan watch the sky.“That’s what?Forty years?Yeah.I’ve got about forty years in me.”The man nearly soundedapologetic.“That enough?You can find yourself a fae bond for after.For the rest, I kind of get it.That things are messed up.I can’t see anyone letting me within a thousand feet of the Council but, fuck, I’ll do what I can.”
Declan blinked, looking back to Antonio to watch the man speak.Jittery, anxious human.Wired, he had said.On edge.
“Unless Hollows are different to the point of our bond not affecting you at all, you’d have a few centuries ahead of you.Four, maximum, provided no one successfully shows us the extent of their irritation with our existence.”
Surprise flashed over Antonio’s face, drew his eyebrows in, had him blinking.The only response to the news came in the form of an emphatic, muttered, “Shit.”
‘Shit,’ indeed.Aisling felt much the same, albeit due to Declan cutting his life short rather than the other way around.As with his mother, Declan kept his mouth shut on Antonio’s succinct commentary.
The human didn’t see fit to continue his line of questioning, and Declan couldn’t find the words to trudge on himself.It was almost a relief to have that sharp flash of cold pain in his senses, something else to focus on.Not that it hurt.Not exactly.But he could sense Antonio’s discomfort, a bladed edge with every flick of Antonio’s thumb against his index finger.
“Did you hurt your hand?”Declan offered his own hand cautiously, palm up and glamour down from elbow to nail tip.“May I help?”
“It’s nothing.Splinter from the bench,” Antonio said dismissively.He held out his hand, though, just as Declan started to pull back, and offered Declan a twist of a raw-edged smile.“No big deal.I figure you’d tell me if it was gonna kill me.”
The lines that crossed Antonio’s palms whispered of cracked clay and well worked jackets, the back of his hand heavy and warm against Declan’s careful touch.It would feel like his favorite leather piece against his chest, a coat he’d had for years upon years.Still did, the weight and fall of it known, worn to comfort.
Which had nothing to do with the here and now.His coat hung in his closet.Antonio, flesh and blood and breathing, was not athing.
Declan huffed a laugh, looking down at Antonio’s hand to hide his half-smile.“No gangrenous end for you this day, Antonio.”Slight pressure and the touch of his nails, gingerly done, at the visibly reddened mark where the splinter rested.“On a grossly self absorbed note, I admit I’m curious to see if my clothes will still suit me once the wrinkles set in.Black jeans are always a classic.Studs and cut off sleeves, possibly less so.I imagine they’ll require a tailor, if nothing else.”
“I thought fae didn’t age.”Antonio’s words were all distant puzzlement, the splinter gone, his hand still warm in Declan’s gentle hold.“But I’m not sure there’s an age limit to being a murder punk.”
Declan ought to let go.Touching Antonio was risk enough, future bond or not, but to keep doing so was little more than pure selfishness.Except, Antonio hadn’t pulled away.Nor did he look as though he wanted to.Just, there.Comforting, old warm metal and a wrap of leather against the chill.
Declan traced a line up Antonio’s palm with his thumb, the middling one.Fate line, he’d been told, absently remembered while mapped with a brush of his thumb, the barest side of his thumbnail.
“I’ll age,” he said simply, attention focused on the picture of their hands, not looking up at Antonio in the distraction.He smiled again, regardless, faint but genuine.He wasn’tTeth, the pre-convergence Council member, bondmate to a longtime friend.Declan didn’t want to live until the suns exploded.“Everil will age.The records I found all agreed that.The lifespans of human-fae bonds end up matching.I’ve no reason to doubt them.”
Antonio tensed slightly.Declan glanced up only to find the human already staring at him, startled, arm tight as if he were trying to not pull away forcefully.
Declan let go.He did so with as much consideration as he had the first time, lowering his hand carefully.He knew how some fae treated their pet humans.Even the well loved were subject to a species that didn’t spend much time learning what damaged, nor would they care overmuch.And whatever kind of companion Calloway had been, it sent Antonio to Declan withshamefullyfew requirements.
It made Antonio hold still and let Declan touch him.Pethim, for all he’d not meant it the way it must have seemed.
