Chapter Text
Well, it had been peaceful while it lasted, Ash supposed.
The crunchy bite of pear on his tongue offered little reprieve from the bitterness hanging like miasma in the air. Herbert had reluctantly seated himself across from Crawford at the grand table - a javelin’s sheathe, more than anything, with how rigidly Herbert stabbed himself into place. Ash chewed noisily on-purpose in his [former] majesty’s presence, until Crawford laid a gentle hand upon his arm and squeezed.
Only then did peace offerings begin in the form of closing his mouth. Ash often found the more he opened it around good ol’ Herbert, the more wretched and dangerous things got anyhow - so it was just as well.
It was damn good to see Dan again, at least. This had been their longest time apart since Herbert’s brief…intermission from life, we’ll say. He was looking well; with just a bit of silver gathering at his temples like frost to wheat. All around him, the children milled, asking for tricks or surprises from the Life-affirmed magister - who politely declined the attention, but with a tap of his foot, produced a few plants and hatched late-season butterflies into the air for the little ones to chase.
Crawford, still absently cradling Ash’s arm with a stroke of his fingers, watched the display with fondness in his soft, bright eyes. A butterfly lighted on Ash’s nose, and, with a wiggle of it, he sent the little beast flying. The little ones frolicked after the Life Dan brought into the room -
All save the teenagers; the prince and his knight, standing off to the side and looking mildly uncomfortable - or, in Pennyroyal’s case, outright mutinous.
She didn’t like magic. Didn’t care for it, as far as Ash knew - something they’d instilled in her from an early age, much to his discomfort. It just wasn’t right, Ash thought - hiding pieces of the kid from herself. But then again, he hadn’t had much of a say. The king’s word was law, and Crawford, though a benevolent ruler, still left very little “wiggle room” for opinions other than his own.
Penny also didn’t like Herbert, and Ash admittedly hadn’t done much to dissuade that. Half-hearted attempts at getting her to understand that that man [her “uncle”; despite the many times Ash internally rolled his eyes about it] was harmless. Just a little bit weird, which was kinda nice, if not totally honest. Then again, with everything else under the Dead-damned sun being a lie, it hardly seemed to matter.
Herbert West was outright bizarre, but Ash figured he’d let Penny - and Juniper, for that matter - determine that for themselves.
Herbert, to whatever credit, also seemed displeased by Dan’s distraction. Clearing his throat did nothing - it took him lodging a kick to Dan’s shin, apparently, to get his attention again. The taller man swiveled; surprised, and Herbert glowered up at him before -
“Oh,” Dan said softly; folding his hands atop the table. The butterflies were joined by flittering fireflies. “Right.” That wasn’t why any of them were here, of course.
Peace died with the next deep sigh Crawford emitted, and with the lift of his hand to call their meeting to order, he signed for Mel to begin taking the children out.
“Not you two,” he added aloud for Penny and Juniper’s benefit. The two children - just shy of adults themselves, now [Hells, where did the time go?] turned to look at one another - June with an odd amount of guilt, and Penny with nonplussed annoyance, spreading her hands to motion Juniper along. The prince inclined his head and headed for the table, Ash scooting aside to make room -
Which Penny took first, hopping over the back of the seat to lounge in it sideways before spinning ‘round and upright, hands clasped in front of herself - that was, until she saw how Herbert had his hands the same exact way, and, with a frown, the squire course-corrected. Ash saw Crawford and Dan each go a bit pale, but - ignoring that, simply gave the kiddo a Look.
“What?” The Look persisted. “What, sir, ” Penny said, obviously annoyed. Ash twisted his lips to keep from laughing and pointed to the seat beside her.
“ That’s where you’re meant to be.”
“It’s alright,” June said - in the voice of a man thrice his age, just as world-weary as Crawford was at times, hauling out that chair for himself instead. “There’s absolutely no reasoning with her.” Pennyroyal swiveled, and Herbert’s jaw tightened. When Dan reached for his hand, the shorter man withdrew both, instead clasping them in his lap below the table.
“I am perfectly reasonable ,” Penny said, the enunciation evident with each shift of her pugnacious little face. Juniper looked down his nose at her, brown eyes twinkling, and Mel herded the last of the little ones out of the throne-room door.
With a click and a residual boom that came from heavy wood making contact with stone, the six of them were once again alone.
They hadn’t sat like this since the children were at least ten or so - and now Juniper was nearly taller than Ash, and Pennyroyal’s hair had begun to darken. There were little shadows that lunged between the light; darkly stark reminders of just how much they hadn’t said. The unsaid stuff lingered - Ash could feel it again in the absence of happy chatter.
Demons got in by similar means, Ash supposed. The knight sat forward a little to drag his chair in, flexing fingers amorphously made from ether against his remaining tangible ones. Pinkish fire crackled in the hearth, the product of ever-burning wood Crawford had collected from the forest at the edge of the Feywilds - deemed thrice-over perfectly safe to use, and had yet to summon any sort of evil, but Ash supposed; grimly, that there could in fact be a first time for everything.
“We need you to tell us exactly what you saw in the woods,” Herbert said sharply - before Crawford could do anything other than open his mouth. The reproachful glare Herbert got from him meant nothing, of course. Instead, the former king added, “it’s of vital importance that you leave nothing out.”
“No kidding,” Pennyroyal said under her breath - the exact inflection Ash had, he noted; hiding a smile under a quick gulp of honey-wine. Juniper glanced at her, however, and the other quieted. She had been trained well, after all, despite ornery tendencies.
Ash knew where to place the blame in those.
“Juniper,” Dan said gently, “your highness–” Herbert shot him a look Ash couldn’t discern, but it made his stomach churn nonetheless. He didn’t have much of a say where the kids were concerned - no rapport, none of the relationship Dan had built, brick by gentle brick, over the years. He was as distant and cold as the seething green sea, stewing alongside the steadfastness of a forest made man. Hands stained with chlorophyll and flecks of gold spread absently; remnants of power rendering scars made beautiful atop sunkissed skin.
“Start wherever you like.”
Ash glanced at him - his son, tall, but small again; somehow, sitting there at the table. He was reminded vividly of how June would put himself in timeout as a kid - for things as small as knocking down a birds’ nest; leaving Dan to pick up the pieces [literal or figurative] and tend to the animals - or when he scared Mel one night, not coming home till late, covered in leaves and mud.
He wasn’t a bad kid. Far from. Juniper had a soft heart and a sweet, wandering soul just like his father. But, strangely enough, he also had a habit of blaming himself for every little thing that Ash had struggled to coax out of him. Pennyroyal, on the other hand, always tried to enforce a fake it till you make it mentality — one Ash seldom saw her apply to herself. She was all or nothing —
Dark eyes slid across the table again. Just like her daddy.
“Okay, Dan,” said Juniper quietly — tone respectful, always respectful. Carefully turning his hands over, the boy with the red in his hair swallowed hard, brow furrowing. Penny settled in, sitting up that much straighter, fixing her darkening locks with their wooden sticks; practical; hidden blades sheathed in her wavy tresses.
“We went into the woods, same as always,” June began, “Pennyroyal wanted to check on her mushroom colony—”
“That’s a secret ,” Pennyroyal hissed, then straightened slightly, glancing around. Her eyes lingered on the pair across the table from them for a moment longer than expected before jerking away. Herbert, Ash realized, looked stricken for the briefest moment before it passed.
The man made of marble had cracked, however. Ash had seen the smaller fissures before, sure as anything.
Herbert West had his very foundation rocked when he… paused. Couldn’t even call it properly dying, not that Ash was gonna split hairs about the terminology. Crawford had brought him back, his…energy; while Dan kept his body alive.
Wasn’t right, Ash thought. Wasn’t natural . And Seven Hells, he would know - maybe they were the ones to blame for things being out-of-whack again because of it. Herbert himself had never been — right. Or natural.
No, Ash reminded himself, that wasn’t fair . His husband, beside him, proud and strong, couldn’t be more right. Far from perfect, but good and steady enough to admit it. To not try to — do whatever it was Herbert did.
Pretend.
As June talked about a hole in the thicket, about pools of pure light, Ash’s eyes were fixed on Herbert instead.
There was no peace found there. A facade of control existed instead. His hands, white-knuckled, wrapped around the wooden arms of his chair. Ash’s gaze followed the curl of those deft fingers, sallower than Crawford’s own - and he swore he saw the shadows follow the way they furled in.
“–and I can show you if you like,” Juniper added, beginning to roll up his sleeves. Ash jerked back to the conversation, cursing himself internally for missing the bulk of the important info - putting a hand on his son’s arm, giving it a little shake.
“Ah-buh-buh, none of that, pal,” he ordered - and June deflated with a little sigh, lower lip made that much more prominent. “We’ll go back to the place y’felt it, and we’ll see what we can find. Right, Crawford?” The king gave Ash a somewhat wary look that said he’d missed more than he could’ve even made up for. Fighting back a wince, Ash gave Juniper’s arm a squeeze before letting go. Penny’s face had soured somewhat again, wiry arms folding over her middle as she propped a foot up against the underside of the grand dining-table.
“I can take us back there,” she muttered, “blindfolded. Don’t even need to use my –” her fingers wiggled in Juniper’s direction, “magic feelings for that, Junebug .” Something jumped in Herbert’s throat - Ash caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, prominent and desperately twitchy.
“We’ll need you both for this.” Crawford gingerly reached across the table to set his hand between the two kids - much as he had all along. “All of us, actually.”
It felt like Ash had blinked and they’d lost a decade in that brief amount of shuteye, somewhere between a small girl with a bow and sword both too big for her, and a little boy who liked to hide behind his mother’s skirts rather than meet new people.
Some things did change. But some -
There was a screech as the legs of Herbert’s chair scraped across the stony floor. Everyone flinched at the sound save the man who m ade it - rising and drawing his dark clothes closer ‘round himself, dragging, sage-colored cloak in tatters over his arm.
“Not me,” said Herbert flatly, “I’m not required.”
“Herbert,” Crawford said, standing - but was met with a burning glare before the other man - his equal in many ways save the ones that Ash felt truly mattered most - stormed off toward the side doors of the throne-room. Dan, apology in his dark and tranquil eyes, motioned for everyone to stay put before taking off after him.
“...is Uncle Herbert alright?” Juniper asked softly. As he turned Ash’s way, he could see in those troubled eyes the guilt; the blame - already beginning to set in. Sighing deeply, Ash raised a hand to clasp the back of Juniper’s neck, knocking their heads together.
“Nah,” he muttered, “he’s just difficult. That’s all.”
“I hate him,” Penny said under her breath, and Crawford made a pained sound, putting his head in his hands.
“This went well,” Ash told him - before catching the hand that flailed his way impatiently, the scolding interrupted as Ash caught those fingers and kissed them, mock-gnawing his way up Crawford’s wrist.
It wasn’t anything they hadn’t faced before, from the sounds of things [which, admittedly, Ash had only half-caught]. They could still have - a piece of peace. A shred of serenity.
Herbert West himself was chaos. Inviting him back into their lives when he’d made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with them felt like an invitation, simultaneously, to the total loss of tranquility. Paradise on the rocks. Threats looming. A chosen child once again facing unspeakable horrors.
One way or another, the cracks they’d all caused had caught up with them.
It’d only been a matter of time.