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]

"There's a Fae landholder named Demetrius Lachlan who is causing disruption on my lands and it's only a matter of time before someone dies," Double says. "I'm sure you have mutual friends, or you can find some other pretence to be introduced. Call him off."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Demetrius," she says with vitriol, while her brother starts looking more and more nervous. He still has that knife, after all.

"Fine. I can call him off. But we want a stipend, both of us. A percentage."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Very well. Ten per cent of the estate's current rents and proceeds, for each of you, paid annually. I'll even send you a year in advance, to show willing."

[bleak_midwinter]

Ten percent is far more than they would have settled for, so Hyperion says, right away: "We'll take it. Let me go, please."

[oohforeshadowing]

"In a moment, darling."

Double brings their other hand around, cuts a narrow score in their palm with one side of the blade, and holds it out to Alexandria.

"You make your utmost efforts to keep Demetrius out of my estate's business. You release Thomas Shelby entirely, and you do not trouble him or any other member of my household again. In exchange, you walk free with your lives and twenty per cent of my estate's current rents and proceeds. On this I vow by blood."

[bleak_midwinter]

She clenches her jaw again, and at this moment lets go of the spell she has Tommy under. Releasing means full release, and she might as well do it now.

Cutting her own palm makes her uncomfortable, but she does it. She's done it before, judging by the scar Double will see just before she cuts herself.

When the blood starts flowing she clasps their hand. "I will keep Demetrius out of your affairs, release your servant, stay away from your househald, and in exchange receive twenty percent of rent and proceeds. On this I vow by blood."

Magic flows through them, sealing the bond beyond just their word. It's not breakable without repercussions.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double draws their hand back from Hyperion's throat, without sheathing the blade, then walks briskly past both of them to the bedroom. It's only when they shut the door that they can start painstakingly peeling their hand away from the dagger's hilt.

They draw closer to the bed.

"Thomas...?"

[bleak_midwinter]

He's coming awake now, but completely unaware of where he is. His eyes open, but he's not really there just yet.

"Where am I?"

He asks this without even looking at them. He's hoarse and pale, and he's clearly lost weight.

[oohforeshadowing]

Both of which they're trying not to think about too hard, for now.

"Nowhere important, darling. It's time to go home. Your family are worried about you."

They reach to open the cuffs, only to find that they fall open under their fingertips. More magic.

[bleak_midwinter]

"My family are all dead," he says, his voice flat in that way the deeply hurt have. "Aren't they? I saw them die. I saw you die."

He lets his arm fall to the bed and sits up. He still can't meet their eyes, sure that his mind is now playing tricks on him.

[oohforeshadowing]

"No, darling. Thomas. No."

They reach out and cup his jaw lightly in their hand. Their heart aches.

"You've been under a Fae compulsion. It's been a few days since it happened, but it...it might have felt like much longer."

[bleak_midwinter]

He yanks his arm away from them, feeling oversensitive, like his skin got burnt from that touch.

"You're either lying or you don't exist. In either case, you need to go. I need to lie down. I'm so bloody tired."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Mister Shelby. I am very real, you are as weak as a kitten right now, and you are not safe here. If I need to tip you over my shoulder and carry you back to Watery Lane like an exhausted child, I will, but I doubt you'll enjoy it."

[bleak_midwinter]

He looks about ready to break down, but not in a way that in any way indicates belief in them and their veracity.

"I can't believe they brought you back just to torment me again - haven't I done enough? Haven't I given enough?"

[oohforeshadowing]

"Yes. You have."

They can feel the anger building in the pit of their stomach, under the grief, the pain. How dare they do this to him? Alexandria could have just let him lay here asleep and lose nothing. There was no cause for this but spite and sadism.

"And if I have to give the next decade simply to convince you that this is the waking world, I will. Now are you going to try to walk, or am I going to carry you?"

Those are your choices, Tommy.

[bleak_midwinter]

He gives in to something at gets up - maybe the thought of being carried was too humiliating. He moves strangely when he gets up, like he's expecting his legs to be shorter and more brittle than they are, and he hits the floor sooner than expected.

It makes him wince, but in the absence of mirrors he can't be shown that he's not an old man. For now he just pushes himself up.

Alexandria and Hyperion are waiting in the hallway. They won't touch him, as promised, but they certainly look as though they want them out here as fast as possible.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double doesn't even do them the favour of acknowledging them. They just walk straight past, staying close to Tommy in case he crumples, and guides him out into the hallway.

Those fucking monsters. Those bastards-

The wording of the blood pact has loopholes you could sail a boat through. They will be taking advantage. But it can wait. Everything else, everyone else, can wait.

The elevator has a large mirror on the back panel, and Double doesn't realise this might be somewhat instructive for Thomas when they usher him inside.

[bleak_midwinter]

He walks in looking at his feet, stumbling, looking for all the world like he'd rather throw himself out of a window. He's tired, bone tired, so tired that putting one foot in front of another feels impossible. His joints creak. His head hurts. His back feels stooped.

And then he glances up. He expects to see a lined face, grey hair, someone marked by time and experience.

Instead he sees a young man. He takes a step back in shock, looking at Double. He'd assumed they were a phantasm, and so their youth was explainable. But his own? He raises his hands and sees the same youth there. He turns around to see the elevator doors closing on his tormentors and just manages to yell: "Wait! What did you do to me? What - "

And then the doors close, and he's left standing there in the descending room.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double doesn't touch him. That didn't go well the first time. But they do stay close.

"Compulsions can change your sense of yourself," Double says quietly, as the room starts to sink. "The way you look, where you are, what you feel...the way time passes."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Please don't talk," he says, sounding pained as he closes his eyes again.

"I don't know what they're doing to me, but that's not what this is. They come by every decade. They come and see if I'm nearing happiness, and destroy it. Maybe this was the last time? I'm seeing you again, after all this time. Maybe it's a mercy."

[oohforeshadowing]

"Every - decade?"

They hadn't quite understood. They'd assumed Alexandria had dragged this out for weeks, maybe months if she was feeling particularly cruel. But decades?

"...Thomas, how long ago was it that we came to Birmingham?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"Fifty-three years. You're early. I don't understand why - am I finally really dying?"

He's asking himself as much as he's asking them, since he still seems to believe they're fake.

[oohforeshadowing]

"Fifty-three-"

They smooth something taut and uncomfortable over their expression, a calmness that conceals a depth and intensity of rage they simply aren't used to experiencing.

"...You're not dying, Thomas. You're very much alive. I'm taking you home."

[bleak_midwinter]

He gives them a look that clearly says that sounds like you're taking me to hell, but doesn't push the issue. What's the point? If he's going to die he's going to die. It feels like he's done it before.

He has, in fact. This is the second iteration of the illusion, which he doesn't quite remember. He just has all the leftover emotions he didn't get to deal with.

[oohforeshadowing]

Double is at a loss, right now. They know just barely enough about Fae compulsion to know where to start. Yes, it will get better over time and yes, eventually the false time will start to fade and contract, like the recognition of a frighteningly realistic dream. But the trauma stays, the way a scar can sting under pressure, or the long-healed fracture in their tail still hurts in cold weather. How long is eventually when the false time is over half a century?

It will happen faster if the source of the weaving is dead. They know that much. Alexandria afforded herself no material protection in their vow. Idiot.

They pay the night manager too much for his silence, and guide Tommy out into a cold, dark night. It's a long quiet walk back to Watery Lane.