 but if you have what it takes to return to where all the world knows your name,
then que sera, let's go sailing on
He’d be for it as soon as the pompous git decided to act on his grievances, but Mallos didn’t care right now. It didn’t matter that it had taken nine days to set up the phone appointment with arguably the most powerful fairy on Earth right now, or that every member of the council (and probably the Shaman administration, later down the line) would feel the impact of the insult before long; the only that mattered were the tears in his daughter’s eyes.
She had only hugged him once before, and it had been as much a surprise then as it was now. Neither Mallos nor Morgana were physically demonstrative. There was a brief pause when she wrapped her arms around his neck, just long enough to think huh?, before he stood up and hugged her back properly. What the hell was going on? He’d never seen Morgana like this before. Presumably she had emotional outbursts now and then which weren’t anger, exasperation or annoyance, but those were the only ones he usually experienced - probably because she had other, closer family members she had known for longer to turn to. Or just other family members who were less frustrating and more expressive with their fondness, as Sperantia occasionally teased him.
When she did speak, Mallos couldn’t process the words immediately. Tristan, missing, four days. And Thoth. His only grandson and his late friend’s only son. He didn’t have time to make sense of it, because before Morgana could continue there was a knock on the door. With some effort, Mallos lifted his eyes to meet the squire’s, and held his stare even after Morgana turned back to face him. The squire’s single sentence fell like the weight of the Earth on his shoulders. Since Morgana didn’t seem to be capable of taking command of the situation, Mallos jerked his head at the squire in a minimalist nonverbal cue for you go; we’ll be along. Probably relieved, the squire ducked outside of the door and clicked it shut behind him. Mallos took hold of his daughter’s shoulders, the tips of his fingers digging in a little harder than they normally would.
“But I only saw Tristan yesterday,” he insisted, searching Morgana’s face for any indication that either one of them could be wrong. Sperantia gave a little cough from the desk to get their attention.
“No, sweetheart,” her voice was pained but very gentle, “you saw Tristan a week ago.”
“No,” Mallos frowned, the denial ringing clearly in his firm tone. “I saw Arthur last week.”
“You saw Arthur three weeks ago, my darling,” Sperantia’s bright blue eyes were unusually soft. “The fight with Lorraine was a whole moon cycle ago, remember?”
Mallos released Morgana, turned away and leant back on the desk, closing his eyes against the world. “Original fairies don’t experience time in the same way as everyone else,” Sperantia said very quietly to the princess, her voice sounding strangely distant to Mallos. “They’ll think a year has passed when it’s been a decade.” She didn’t add that Mallos was actually better at perceiving time than most other originals - some of the others might have been inclined to say only four days?
Fortunately, his familiar didn’t try and add her thoughts to the mess currently tumbling around his head. A deep-seated panic, a fear which Mallos couldn’t remember feeling since he’d first descended into his black prison under the Alhambra, gripped his heart and made it difficult to think coherently. Since he’d come to Shaman, he’d already lost one daughter and his only other grandson, along with his closest and oldest friend. That was a lot in a short space of time for someone who was used to having immortal friends. The prospect that Tristan, who had once called him the best grandfather in the world, might be gone forever…
And Thoth. Mallos had made a quiet promise to Aura after her death that he would protect her son. He’d failed to save her, and now he’d failed to save her child.
Through the gaping hole of loss, the overwhelming terror, the confused guilt and the numb shock, a new emotion surged: fury. Why the hell hadn’t he been told?
Put aside, for a moment, the fact that Mallos was as much a member of this family as Mordred and Morgana were; put aside that it was his grandson out there; he was the best resource this fucking castle had. His magic was worth more than every member of the royal militia put together. What in hell’s name was Arthur thinking when he chose not to get help from the one person who could search every secret nook and cranny on this damn planet in half the time it took an army? If it was now too late - if it had been too long - but Mallos could have saved them, if Arthur hadn’t been such a stubborn, pig-headed, magic-hating -
Forget it. Mallos grappled with his rage for a moment before locking it forcefully away in the far corner of his mind. Wailing about what was now past history wouldn’t help anyone - certainly not Thoth and Tristan - and getting angry never did an ounce of good. They had to look forward now, not backwards.
Mallos exhaled slowly, opened his eyes and turned back to Morgana again. The internal churning of emotions remained just that - internal. Outwardly, he transmitted a warm, calm vibe as he took her in his arms again and held her closely for a moment, breathing in the fresh scent of the outdoors from her hair. What was he supposed to say now? Lie, and tell her everything would be alright? Morgana wasn’t a child; she was too old to believe in the omnipotence of her parents, even if she needed to hear the reassurance.
“I can’t promise you it will be okay,” he said quietly, pulling back a little to look her in the eye. “But I promise that if I can fix it, I will. We have to be strong for your brother now.”
He gave her a moment to compose herself, before taking hold of her hand. Sperantia pressed against his side and together the five of them - fairies, ravens and cat - were transported instantly to the door outside of Arthur’s room. The squire who had come to fetch them was just rounding the corner when they appeared, and he gaped for a moment before remembering himself and adopting a professional face. Mallos gave Morgana’s hand a little squeeze before letting it go. He knocked once on the door and pushed it open.
mallos
there's a wise man in every fool
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