olden times for Tommy

[oohforeshadowing]

The great country pile isn't their speed, really.

Double had their lovely house in London, bought and paid for by their adoptive father - a High Fae of some high regard, who'd been fretting about their lands and accounts falling into strangers' hands when he passed on. It was a heartrending story, of course, and Double was...well, positively delighted to be anything the old man wanted them to be. For the right price.

Shapeshifters have long since had a bad reputation for sliding into the upper echelons this way. They hadn't been in penury to begin with, by any means, but 'lovely house in London' money and 'vast estates with mining wealth and hundreds of rate-paying tenants' money is not the same by some order of magnitude.

The old man died peacefully in his bed, well over a century old, and left the manor house and everything that went with it to their sole heir. Who is going to sell it all, eventually, but it feels tasteless not to even let their 'father's' body grow cold.

They move in after the last of their furniture has been transported, and lets the housekeeper give them the tour. They cut quite the figure: long blond hair pinned up in curls, a jacket and blouse tailored tightly to a corseted waist, the snug high-waisted breeches favoured by most males. Their tail is the most exposed part of them and the woman they're following keeps eyeing it like she's not sure if it's obscene or not.

"...show you the stables, your grace," she says, as she walks ahead to the outbuildings.

"Ah. I suppose we ought."

Comments

[oohforeshadowing]

"Correct on all three counts," they say, without overt sarcasm. "I was the bastard child of a shifter father and a Fae mother, raised and then orphaned as an 'adopted foundling', then made the heir of the Duke. Which I can't imagine Alexandria was pleased with, in particular."

For all the Fae tut and laugh at human culture, they've adopted a great deal of it - not least a tendency for the eldest male of a given line to inherit the lion's share from their parents. The Duke's sister didn't do badly out of the estate, but her younger brother did better, and Hyperion did a great deal better than Alexandria when their mother died.

[bleak_midwinter]

"So you think she's taking revenge on you for getting what she didn't, by stealing your servant?"

More bad news. Fae with grudges never, ever turn out to be easy to deal with.

[oohforeshadowing]

"...After a fashion," they say, grimacing. "They can't kill Thomas without cursing themselves, but that leaves...room to manoeuvre. I think they're using him as bait."

[bleak_midwinter]

"What would they do to you - or be able to do? Do you have magic of your own? Can they tell you're a shifter if you've taken on a different form?"

Normally she likes one question at a time, but Polly does not like room to maneuver.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Fae can't see through a shifter's transformation," they tell her. "It's the only magic I have, but it's very effective. As for what they could do to me...well, it's so deeply taboo for a Fae to kill their kin that I don't think they'd even do it to an adoptee. But as I say. Room to manoeuvre. They could, say, hurt me until I agreed to sign over the estate."

[bleak_midwinter]

"...if those are the stakes," Polly says, slowly, "then surely you wouldn't risk taking their bait?"

[oohforeshadowing]

Double clears their throat.

"As I said, Thomas is my responsibility. His presence here is my responsibility. And I don't intend on leaving without him."

And if it comes to it, they aren't especially wedded to any Fae beliefs about kinslaying.

[bleak_midwinter]

"Can't we think of ways to give you cover, if you find them and go to meet you?" Michael asks, quiet but shrewd. "To join you as a servant, perhaps - I don't know. It sounds like going alone would be dangerous."

[oohforeshadowing]

"...It will be," Double concedes, frowning. "But going with me would be extremely dangerous for you, and I'm not sure that it would make me any safer."

Also, they're not altogether convinced Thomas would ever forgive them for allowing his family anywhere near an altercation with High Fae.

[bleak_midwinter]

"We want my brother back," Arthur says, firmly, making a fist on the tabletop. "We ain't had him for so long, we're not about to let him go again that easy. Maybe we don't go inside, but we help out, we got- we got connections, don't we? Pol?"

Polly looks conflicted but nods. "We may be able to think of something. After we find out where he is, Arthur, no sense planning for that big an unknown."

[oohforeshadowing]

Double exhales deeply.

"All right. If you can consult your contacts on potential means of evening the odds, I'll do the same to find out where they are, and we meet back here at daybreak?"

[bleak_midwinter]

Polly nods, and then gets up and holds out a hand.

"A truce between our families, Double Trouble. We'll work together."

[oohforeshadowing]

Double shakes their hand firmly, nods, and then immediately makes their way to the most exclusive hotel in town.

Hyperion and Alexandria are many things but they've never felt unpredictable.

In the body of a human servant, they explain with embarrassment to the night manager that they need to speak with the Lady Alexandria on their master's behalf - yes, now, it's important business that cannot wait until morning. The manager hedges, but then they see the scars on their fellow human's arms and the exhaustion in their eyes and seem to be taken by some fellow feeling.

From the expansive lobby, they take an ascending room to the top floor, where the Royal Suite awaits. Fortunately, the human staff place limits on the amount of magic the building can realistically use, so they do some very prosaic things to the lock with some hairpins to gain entry.

[bleak_midwinter]

The suite is fantastical. Humans will be able to easily clean and fix most things inside, but all the embellishments are obviously Fae-made. The ceiling swirls with a starry night sky, the wallpaper moves in a gentle pastoral scene. The hot water in the bathroom is more than evident, but more than that everything is voice-activated and utterly convenient.

It's also big. The entire top floor is taken up by the suite, leaving plenty of room for the siblings to avoid one another as they wait. In one room of the suite, Alexandria is writing a furious speech; in another, Hyperion is composing a piece of music.

In yet another, Tommy is cuffed to a bed, in another world entirely. None of them has any idea someone just entered the suite.

[oohforeshadowing]

The gifts which serve Double here are far more physical than magical. Their silent, barefoot tread; an awareness of their surroundings which leads them to avoid crossing near any bright lights, for the suspicious shadows that will be cast when they do so. They can see Hyperion through a half-open door, playing a violin with slow, delicate strokes, but pay him little mind. Through another door, they can hear Alexandria muttering to herself over the scratch of a pen nib.

The next door opens, thank God, without recourse to force or hairpins or even a creak. Beyond it they see Tommy and feel grief and rage spasm in their chest, but they force it down and close the door behind them before moving closer.

"Thomas?" they whisper - their own voice, their own eyes in their borrowed face.

[bleak_midwinter]

He's unresponsive, his eyes closed but his brow furrowed. He's on his side, wrist to the bed, but somehow Double might get the impression that he doesn't need more tying down than this.

He's under a spell, visibly shimmering when they come close. They have him, somehow, though doing what isn't clear. Physically he looks slightly worse for the wear but not as harmed as they might have expected.

[oohforeshadowing]

Unfortunately, harmed can mean all sorts of wretched things, when dictated by a malicious Fae. 'Compulsion' is an umbrella term for any magic working that makes the victim believe something which isn't true. Most often it's simply used to guarantee obedience, but its uses are limited only to the user's skill and imagination. Perception of all kinds can be skewed. One's sense of time, sensation of pain, the people around them.

A waking nightmare.

They slide back into their true shape, and carefully draw the long dagger sheathed under their coat. A gleaming blade, a jewelled hilt. A beautiful thing, truly.

"Alexandria!"

Hyperion couldn't weave if his life depended on it, according to his uncle. This is the sister's work.

[bleak_midwinter]

The violin stops, the pen gets dropped. Alexandria pushes her chair back abruptly, shaken, and making her way out into the hall.

She doesn't need a weapon. She has magic.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double meets them both in the central space that serves as both reception room and junction for the rest of the suite. Their own armaments, the knife besides, are...lacking. There are certain powders which can disrupt spellweaving or throw its aim, but they're not reliable and generally the sort of trick you can only get away with once.

"Cousins," they say, mostly because they know it'll needle them while also reminding them both of them of their kinship bond. "You have my man chained to your bed. I trust this is an honest mistake?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"Shifter," says the sister, aware of the bond but not interested in being courteous whatsoever. She looks them up and down.

"There's nothing about you that would indicate he's your man. He was our uncle's, bound by blood. So now he's ours."

[oohforeshadowing]

"If that were true, Alexandria, you'd be well on your way to London by now. So I assume the bond thinks different."

Her face spasms in a way that tells them they've got the right of it. Hyperion, interestingly, looks aggrieved but not even remotely as angry as his sister.

"I'd ask what you want from me," they go on, "but I don't care. Your choices are these. Release him, retire to another room while we leave, and never trouble my household again. Or I'll kill you both."

[bleak_midwinter]

Her face contorts in an ugly grimace, the actual horror of what they're telling her hitting hard. Hyperion literally takes a step back in shock.

"You wouldn't. We are kin, much as it pains me to say so - and over a human?"

[oohforeshadowing]

They shrug. The way they're holding the dagger looks casual, thoughtless, but the high-polished metal constantly catches the light. Draws attention to itself.

"Over a human. Over the offence to my household. Over the grievous insult to my late father and his judgement, perhaps - take your pick. Nobody will ever know I was here, so I'll never have to explain myself."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Of course people will know," she snaps, and Hyperion nods.

"We've informed people that if we disappear or if harm comes to us, to know that it was your doing. You'll be isolated. Shunned."

"Over a human," Alexandria repeats, firmly, her eyes on that blade.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double actually laughs, sharp teeth flashing.

"Hyperion. Darling. You're both found dead in a hotel room and you've helpfully taken the trouble of telling everyone who to scapegoat? The weak, unmagical little shifter? Nobody will believe it. But let's say your beloved sister invited you to a hotel in a city where nobody knows you, to beseech you for a higher allowance - and when begging doesn't work, she threatens you. She lashes out. You defend yourself, of course, and...well."

They smile slowly.

"I know what story I would pass around the London clubs."