[ This has got to be one of the weirder jobs that he and his team have taken.
On any given day, Josh makes it a point to generally steer clear of Fox and Rabbit. The Fae brokers were notorious for asking for the oddest things, and they'd never quite lost interest in the keys he kept close at all times. But when a boy named Arthur walked into EXIT asking for help raising the ghost of his sister for closure, it was bound to be the odd kind of month; filled with negotiations for safe(ish) passage past the Hedge to track down a lost family member.
Turns out, there was no ghost to raise. No little twelve-year-old Morgana to speak to for Arthur to apologize to and profess feelings of loss for. And more importantly, no body in the box that Arthur had dug out of the ground; just a rotted old piece of firewood dressed in a young girl's clothes.
They had ended up sitting down to finish off the Dumb Supper they'd set down for the Supper (favorite dishes, drinks that would have kept the meal going), while Arthur seethed under his breath, murmuring that gaslighting sonofabitch as while he brooded over one of the beers Ana had swiped from behind the counter.
It's been the equivalent of three days now, since they crossed the threshold of a maze Migo had tracked down in the middle of a small midwest town. The borders of Fae weren't too different from the Gates of the Underworld, in that there was always a guardian, and they always asked for a toll:
the sweetness of youth with the rot of age (three apples half past their expiry date, frozen to maintain the illusion of freshness) a broken love song (a cracked Sarah Mclachlan vinyl), and a knight's favor from a lady love (Arthur had kept one of Morgana's ribbons, Josh wasn't sure how that counted but Rabbit assured him that it'd do even if they were siblings)
The goblin at the gate had been dressed as one of the farm hands, and his mismatched eyes (one blue, one yellow) had gleamed at the sight of them: Odd to have Jack's Lantern take interest in the business of the Bright Ones.
But they'd made it through with little to no fanfare, turned the corner of the maze to find themselves on the very edge of Autumn at the borders of the Winter Court.
They've set up camp, him and Arthur, a good six feet away from the river's edge. The younger man is sleeping now, while he takes first watch. ]
[It had been more than a decade since Morgana had noticed something different about the trees, the hedges around the overgrown mansion that Uther called a home. More than a decade since she had taken the hand of someone who called himself her kin and promised she would be safe now, with him. That she would be where she really belonged.
Time in Faerie moved strangely, without notice and somehow drawing on too long. Sometimes, she had been inconsolable until they let her peer through the veil and see Arthur building a castle out of blocks or awkwardly smiling at the first girl he noticed was actually a girl. He grew up, and she felt less need to peer over his shoulder.
In some ways, she wondered if she was growing up too. It didn't always feel like it, not with her being barely in her mid-twenties if she had still been in the moral realm, and especially not with her being surrounded by ageless beings who held so much power that you could physically feel it any time they set their attention upon you.
Yet for the most part, save the odd twinge of guilt, she was happy here. Happier than she had been since her father died. Her only responsibilities were to learn what she was taught and to not go prying into things that were beyond her ken.
Often she could be found on the edges of the realm, not testing her way out but looking with the curiosity only a part mortal could have at the mists, hedges, deep dark places in the forests where things got strange but stopping short of where they would get dangerous and anyone would think she was ungrateful enough to try and leave without so much as an attempt to first ask if she could go.
So it happened that one day when she was wandering around in the half-wilderness of the gardens that surrounded Winter she sensed something strange, and then saw someone strange, someone new and not accompanied by any of the fae and not, as far as she could sense, one himself. He was far enough away that she could slip behind a tree, the white of her dress helping to conceal her in the mist as she curiously peered him. He was in the lands of Autumn, technically, but only barely and surely intending to cross - but why? As kind as her people were to her, they weren't so kind to everyone. Was he with someone else? He seemed to have no obvious weapon, no horse either, no fae creatures to guard him.
Sticking to the trees, Morgana snuck closer. It was like her heart was dragging her feet along, sensing something she could not put to words or even fully form in her mind.
Morgana found herself at the very edge of winter, a step away from crossing the border.]
Who goes there? [She asks, her voice almost ghostly and as if it had come from the trees themselves and not the girl using them as her guard. The old man would be proud she had learned so well.]
[ He's jotting down notes in a notebook Fox had spelled for this trip. He wasn't entirely sure how it worked, but he was getting messages back from his krewe. He wasn't going to dig into the details. But then The Flower Girl's voice whispers in his ear: we are not alone and he stills.
Josh rises. Tucking the notebook away in his back pocket, he speaks out into the void of the forest: ] Depends on who's asking.
[ If this was the Underworld, he would present himself accordingly. As it stands, it's more likely that Fae will take his title as permission to turn him into something not quite human if they felt like it. ]
Even those who know better than to speak their true names usually have a better answer than that.
[She sounds, and feels, curiously disappointed. As she speaks, her voice spilling out from all of the trees around her like an echo she quietly and swiftly climbs up the white-barked tree she had been standing behind, using the height it gives her to get a better look at their soon-to-be guest.]
You are not alone. [It is not a question, even though she is struggling to see clearly enough to be sure of who or what he has with him.] Perhaps your friend would like to speak instead?
[ He's not comfortable with the idea of Arthur asleep while a member of the Fae are snooping around, but he doesn't know how to wake the other man without necessarily drawing too much attention. Plus, he doesn't know where the mysterious woman is, what with her voice coming from all around their little camp.
His geist has settled around his shoulders, her distress coming out in soft hisses that only he can hear. She's more visible now, a wisp of smoke solidifying into something akin to a shawl. The movement jolts half-wilted petals from her ghostly hair, falling to the ground and shriveling into nothing.
Josh chooses his words carefully. The last thing he wants to do is give offense. At the risk that this is one of the Gentry, it'll do him and Arthur no good to get on the speaker's bad side. ]
My title holds on bearing in this realm, Lady. I offer my apologies for any offense caused. [ He holds his ground, squares his shoulders. ] In the Lands of the Dead I am known as Jack's Lantern. I am a guide for the lost and the lonely departed who fear the Upper Reaches, but require passage towards rivers manned by The Ferryman's ilk.
My friend and I have come to Arcadia in search for a loved one. He came to me seeking closure with her ghost, only to find that he had been deceived of her death.
[ He ends his speech there. He hopes it's enough that the voice won't ask for specifics. If there was one thing Fox told him to avoid, it was talking too much.
This isn't your wheelhouse, hoss. Best not to divulge secrets or information you don't want the Fae using against you. ]
[There is, truly, something strange about this man. He seems human enough... yet also not? But not in the way that she is not, it is different to her and her kin. Somehow. Part of Morgana wished she'd still been taking her walks with one of the many fair folk who had at first been assigned to babysit her but who she had eventually befriended on her own merits. They almost all had better senses and centuries' worth of knowledge she wasn't sure she could contain within her mind even with all the time in the world to learn it.
He doesn't look like a threat, anyway, but foul things so often looked fair, especially on the edges of things, the in-betweens.
When he speaks again, she listens, carefully as she has been taught. He thinks her one of her kin, that is clear enough. No one speaks to the mortal-born with quite as much caution as they do with a full fae. Not without reason, either, for they love tripping people up with word games and etiquette she can only imagine they thought up one evening millennia ago when they wanted some way to piss each other off with all its complexities and traps.
He really was far from home. The clump of trees she had made her nest in move slightly, as if tilting their head just the way she is as she listens.
A man, seeking closure with a loved one.... who thought she had died and the trail lead them here? Morgana froze.
Grandfather, help her. What was she to do? Was that Arthur over there being a lump on the ground? He couldn't be here, it was dangerous, they could be so vicious with someone who didn't belong there was so much...]
What is his name? [She wants to sound calm, but she doesn't, nor do the trees around her feel calm anymore but instead their branches tossed by a wind unfelt by anything but themselves.] It is important. Tell me his name, Jack's Lantern. [Please, she thinks, but does not say. Pleading shows weakness.]
[ He feels The Flower Girl wrapping around him tighter, seeping into his skin even if he'd not asked for not unlocked The Caul. His skin dulls to the pallor of death, and he can feel ghost fingertips crawling down his arms as if securing invisible vambraces. He smells freshly turned dirt and hears the click of a Key in his head, prompting more internal exasperation.
There's no need, he tells her in his mind, but his geist is having none of it.
we are in a strange place far from home. we are speaking to a strange woman who might mean us harm.
i listened to Rabbit, Joshua. Rabbit says the Fae are not to be trusted. i will not risk them taking you from me.
So he takes a breath and carries on, offering another apology first. ]
Perhaps if you show yourself first, my Lady. [ Dealing with an anxious child geist was not on his list of things to do today. ] My companion, [ he emphasizes the word ] is a touch skittish.
She does not want to be here. But I promised Arthur I would help.
[That boy. That stupid, beautiful, clever boy. But how? She had been told this wasn't his place, that he didn't belong, that he couldn't come live with her amongst the glamour and the wilderness. By all rights he shouldn't have even been able to find his way into this never-never land, not having been brought up in Uther's house where anything strange or magic was treated like a threat.
Yet here he was, apparently, with.......
Wait what was wrong with the Lantern fellow?
Her green eyes snapped from the lumpy form of her probable-brother napping and back to Jack's Lantern as he got strange and pale. She stepped forward and the tree moved, folding itself to form a staircase with its branches so she could walk down to the ground without risk of falling.
She wasn't a tall woman, and she was nearly as pale as the mists that she dismissed from around her or the white silk dress that draped over her body. The only darkness was in her hair, ebony against her fair skin and falling freely over her shoulders save for two braids which joined together at the back to keep her long hair from covering her face at every other move she made.
Her feet were bare, despite the cold ground on which she stood. She was part of winter, she could not be harmed easily by it.
Morgana walked right up to him, as close as she could without crossing the boundary, and then to the side, crouching down so she could get a better look at the mop of golden hair sticking out from under a blanket.
The Lantern boy might or might not be a threat, she didn't really care. She had to know if it was truly Arthur.]
Little cub? [She called, as she had done when Arthur was a baby, bouncing on her lap.] Wake up, little cub.
[ Seeing a woman walk down from a tree that suddenly had a staircase is trippy. But so is walking along the Styx. Or dealing with a house that bleeds each time a couple moves in with their toddler as if to tell the kid I love you, I miss you, welcome home.
Still, Josh can feel the goosebumps on his arms beneath the sleeves of his jacket at the sight of her and he's quiet until she walks over to where Arthur is still—for some bizarre reason—asleep.
He backs up a little, eyes fixed on the woman even as he tries to sooth his geist.
She's not going to hurt us. Now would you please, chill the fuck out?
NO.
She didn't look like Gentry—not that he would know what they looked like, really. But given all the cautionary tales Rabbit decided to wordvomit at them when he'd asked for the next possible entry into the Hedge—she really doesn't look like Gentry. ]
He was pretty insistent that he could find you. [ Josh keeps his voice light. Think casual. Very casual. ] First client I ever had who had a shovel in the trunk of his car.
A shovel? [Morgana asks, only half listening now, having entirely lost interest in anything but the young man sleeping before her.]
Little cub, [she calls again, her voice cooing softly as you would to a child having nightmares.] It's 'gana, you won.
[And as she speaks Arthur does, finally, draw himself out of his dream. There is something warm and soothing about it. It was like he could hear Morgana talking to him. Had they been playing hide and seek? She always let him win when he was sad or father was angry. But then they hadn't played that since the day she was taken by the tree man...
Only when he wakes, he can still hear her. She is talking to him. Her voice is different, now, no longer the voice of a little girl pretending to be a mother but a warmer voice, a woman's voice, no longer troubled by having to carry burdens she was too young to bear.
And then there was Josh's voice... he couldn't be actually hearing her, could he?
Little cub, look at me.
No one, not even his mother, not his mates, no one called him little cub like Morgana had once upon a time.
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, oblivious to the orange leaves caught in his hair. He blinked, his vision blurry from sleep and there she loomed as he had so often imagined her, except here she was grown and herself, but not.]
I knew you would come, [Arthur said, not really believing it himself as he stumbles to his feet, overwhelmed and blindingly happy and terrified all at once. Where Morgana seemed to hesitate over some border, real or perceived, Arthur had no such concerns and bound over, swooping her up in a hug and spinning around with her.] I knew I saw you go..
[It was strange for Morgana to watch him come to life and realise she was speaking to him. She worried he might think her an apparition, she certainly looked like one, but in true Pendragon fashion, he barely thought at all before leaping to her and picking her up. He had grown so big. He was barely at her hip last she saw him and now here he was picking her up and spinning her around as if she weight nought more than a feather. The revelation that he had seen her go off into faerie, though, shakes her a little and when she speaks again her voice is cracked.]
[ Oh, thank fuck. The relief at seeing Arthur finally wake up leaves him exhaling a breath. He lets the two reunited siblings to have their moment as he turns his attention inward to coax The Flower Girl from her protective state.
I'm fine. You can let go. He doesn't push, only offers the option. Their relationship has grown enough that he doesn't need to bribe or force her to do anything, and it occurs to him once again that maybe the reason he took this job was because theirs is a sibling-like arrangement.
He, the older brother father, friend. Her, the younger sister daughter, charge despite The Flower Girl being over a century old.
First friend, she'd called him not too long ago. You were the first to see me, screaming in the middle of that highway.
To the eyes of Morgana and Arthur, his pallor returns slow. Health and life blooming back onto his skin as The Flower Girl concedes, slipping off of him like fog to semi-materialize as an apparition dressed in a white dress tattered at the hem. Her hair is in a braid today; strewn, as always, with the while flowers used at funerals to fill in spaces between much larger blooms.
Her hand is wrapped around the edge of his jacket and she clings to Josh the way a child might. She says nothing now. She only watches.
Josh turns his attention back to the two. ] We can't stay very long, Arthur. Not unless they let us.
[ They, meaning the Gentry. Based on what Arthur told him and what Josh managed to get out from Fox and Rabbit, mortals typically became Changeling in Faerie and ran from their abusers when they managed to escape. Odd then, that this woman didn't seem like she was fleeing from the big bad fair folk. ]
[She feels Arthur tense before the words finish leaving the Lantern's lips. Or rather, she feels him old her so tight she strongly considers hitting him in the shoulder and begging for breath. he even turns with her still in his arms, lifted off the ground to look at the strange man and.... was that a girl? Morgana didn't get to look for long, and if Arthur cared he didn't show it.]
We only just got here. [He sounded petchulant, even to himself, but it was hard not to when his parents had been lying to him for the better part of two decades about what had happened to the only person in the family who truly loved him for himself and not because he was a good and useful prop for the family legacy.
God knows, Morgana had had no reason to love him. As he understood and remembered it, he had been shoved off into her lap from almost the moment he was born. she had fed him when she was barely old enough to make herself bread and butter, she had chased after him, carried him when he must have weighed a third, if not half her weight. She had sung to him, and kissed his hair, she had been his entire world and never resented him for it despite the fact by doing this she was given no real childhood of her own.
He didn't wonder much at the fact she had been talked into some fairyland. He couldn't blame her, as much as he wanted to. And she had done all of that with her father dead and her previously loving (so he was told by his aunt) mother having all but forgotten she was a person.
And he absolutely could not leave her here. No. Never. Especially not without so much as an hour to make sure she was well and not mistreated.
Even now, with all these years apart he realised Morgana was humming softly to him and stroking the side of his face. She still smelt like lavender, and she still loved him enough to try and make him better.]
There is nothing to forgive, [he says quietly, belatedly realising that she had apologised while he was busy existing in the raging hurricane of his mind.] But you cannot seriously suggest I just leave her here? Aren't the fae- [He is cut off with a finger across his lips as Morgana forces his grip to give a little so she can do it.]
Don't say things you may come to regret. The fair folk live in everything in this realm, in one way or another, and aren't soon to forget an insult.
[But she didn't exactly know what to do either. She was not free to go home at will, it was not that kind of bargain]
I do not like to make promises in this land, but I do not believe they will hurt that which is under my protection. Because I am under theirs. [And she was very much loved, in their strange fashion.]
[ He gets it. He does. He'd like to go home to a normal life with his mundane family. But he made his choice.
He didn't go home after the car crash. Hasn't been back since; despite all of Cindy's calls and emails. His sister is in college living out her best life. And while his krewe expresses concern for him cutting out everything that made him who he was pre-Bargain, he doesn't know where he could begin to explain that he died and came back. ]
I can fend for myself. There's not much that can knock me down that I won't get back up from. And at best, I'd be banged up—but I'd be able to go back.
[ And while Arthur doesn't seem to be in a mood to listen, he can still drive the point home. ] You're human. You're a lot more fragile than you think.
But we can stay a little longer. [ A nod, to Morgana. ] Just know the moment I smell trouble we'll need to hoof it.
[Lantern boy wasn't wrong, and that the problem. While she was quite sure she could wheedle her way around any harm being done to them, this time, if only because she was so well loved by her kin, she wasn't so sure that it would hold true if Arthur found another way back, or worse, if Arthur heard stories of those who came to faerie and had a far worse time than she had ever had here.
He would want to protect her, and it seemed like he'd go to hell personally if he had too to drag her out of it.
She almost wished he couldn't remember her.
As she thinks, Arthur splutters.]
Morgana is human, [he sounds like he thinks the lantern boy was calling her names, so to cut off a fight before it begins she has to interject:]
Not as much as we both thought, little cub. Or should I say bear? You're not so little anymore. You're going to squeeze me in half.
[Suddendly he looks a little guilty and gingerly places her back on the ground in front of him, and she moves, turns really, so she can look at the lantern boy and his sudden friend. Her head falls back against Arthur who is definitely trying to do some math as to how Morgana could possibly be not human while the adults talk]
You have not introduced your friend, I assume she is why you look so strange from time to time? [Morgana asks, gently, even as she's fairly sure she hears Arthur mutter that he likes "cub" more, and, also, was their mother a fairy? was it Gorlois?????]
[ He's thankful for the momentary reprieve. They're safe for now. ]
The Flower Girl gets protective. [ He offers by way of explanation. ] With her, I'm whole and alive. With me, she gets a taste of life denied her for roughly a hundred years.
[ There are mysteries to unfold still. Answers they need to find to the questions surrounding her death. ]
And since formalities are done, it's nice to meet you Morgana. Though admittedly, I didn't expect to see you wandering around free in Arcadia.
Interesting. [And she was interested, her green eyes sparkle with curiosity at the very concept but one of the other things she has learnt in these lands is not to pry excessively unless you have good reason, and she had none. How Arthur found him was a mystery but at least it meant they hadn't just likely strolled through the hedge at home and so maybe Arthur couldn't do so again easily. He might be safe.
Maybe.]
You thought me a prisoner? [She knows, of course, that it is a solid possibility. But then, she had always felt strange and coming here had normalised something in her so that she was treated mostly with kindness both shocked her and didn't at all. She belonged here, in a way she hadn't at home. No one avoided her or looked at her strangely in Arcadia, or thought her to be a bit mental.]
Of course we did... I always thought you would come home, if you knew how. [Arthur says, still quietly as he leans his head against hers, his cheek resting against the inky black.]
I am sorry to have left you, and to have worried you... [Both of you, apparently, though obviously not lantern boy nearly as much as Arthur.] But why the shovel? Do I have a grave?
[ He's sending a look pointedly over at Arthur at that point and decides that since the younger man had pretty much enlisted his help, he could speak for the both of them. ]
Your brother came to me because we— [ gesturing to The Flower Girl now ] —have a set of skills in the domain of the dead.
[ How Arthur had found out about them, he's not entirely sure. He just knows that Pendragon had strolled right into his bar right as he was heading out for a smoke asking if he could perform the Dumb Supper. ]
Normally it means that the living get one last mean with their departed loved ones for closure. But.
[ There had been no ghost to raise. It had been very awkward. He offers a shrug and then adds: ] I only found out about the shovel after Arthur here stormed out hissing "I knew it".
[She had at times, when peering through the veil, gotten a sense that Arthur missed her. Of course she did. But what she had seen, he had been happy enough. The nanny minded him well and got him friends and activities outside of the house and the watching eye of his father as much as she could.
It was no replacement for a missing sister, to be sure, but the idea that they thought her actually dead settled strangely in her stomach now that she knew for sure the cover story the fae had made for her vanishing act.
Morgana turns her head and looks at Arthur, who looks a little flustered.]
Well, I did. I saw the man walk you into the garden and you never came out again. Anything could have happened to you, Morgana. [Yet he had somehow been so sure that somehow she was alive that despite the "evidence" he could never actually lay the memory to bed.
And so, here they were.
A moment later, Morgana takes his hand and squeezes it. Her hand feels so small compared to his now, when hers used to envelop his childish, stubby fingers.]
I didn't know anyone else could see him, or that you were watching or I would never... [She swallows.]
You boys must be hungry. Or thirsty? I can sort something out for you while you are here.
We brought— [ he hesitates, glacing once at the duffel that he'd offered to Arthur to use as a pillow ] —supplies. We would not wish to impose, but I suppose we could sit down.
[ It's an ambiguous enough response, given how he isn't sure how good Faerie food would be for them. They had enough to tide them over for at least a while. ]
Then seats it is. [And because Morgana is so aligned with the land, because she has lived here and practiced so long it doesn't take much for her to manipulate the nearby plants, who suddenly sprout and grow until they weave into a set of bench seats, cushions made out of moss and other soft greenery formed on their surface.
Arthur startled, but tried not to look too alarmed that his long lost sister, his best friend, had some aspect to her he'd never known to look and see before she went away. Morgana squeezes his hand before using that anchor point to drag him off towards the seats which are more comfortable than they look.]
That was -
Magic, yes, you missed me climbing out of the tree earlier, I guess. You were doing your best rock impression while the Lantern was trying not to draw attention to you.
[Arthur rubbed his temples, sinking back into the seat. At least if the furniture came alive and ate him he wouldn't have to think about this longer.]
[ Impressive, really. Watching Morgana manipulate her surroundings has given him things to think on as he continues to assess present circumstances:
First, she's not a captive. If anything, she looks very at home in Faerie. Second, while it's probably for the best to continue to keep his guard up, he came here for a job. That's to offer Arthur some kind of closure or next step. ]
You can just call me Josh. [ Might be best to dispense with formalities for now if he'd actually like to be referred to by his actual name instead of his title. ] The title really was just because this isn't my side of the tracks.
Oh, he does have a true name. [From anyone else in Faerie, that may well have had a sinister undertone but from Morgana it is simply teasing and done with a big smile.]
Pleasure to meet you, Josh.
[Poor Arthur looks confused again, and realises whatever they had spoken of before he awoke apparently hadn't included an actual introduction, which earns Josh a quizzical squint with a gentle side of did-you-insult-my-sister that he doesn't actually speak.
He continues not to speak even when his eyes go back to Morgana. Part of him expected to find her as she had been, tall for her age but shorter than he would grow to be when he reached the same, her hair up in that too-tight braid she set it in every morning before school and looking after him. That perpetual look of tiredness about her eyes.
But here they were and she was fully grown, a woman now, maybe a few inches taller and much less exhausted. She was not trapped at age twelve, not hurt or killed. What could he even say to her? Come back to where life is boring and stressful and you've got to deal with society just to survive? Did she have friends here? Family? Was this heaven?]
You look lost, little cub. I do not know what to say and I think you do not know what to ask... is that so?
[He just nodded, leaning back into the embrace of her woven chair.]
Perhaps there is a lighter topic for now... like how did you talk your way in here without any fanfare?
I have contacts, among those who choose to live back home.
[ Allies seems like a stretch of a way to describe Fox and Rabbit. ]
And I've been aware of pathways into the Hedge for sometime now, so it was a matter of figuring out what to pay the gatekeeper.
[ Some things are universal. Guesting laws. Tithes. He'd approached stepping into Arcadia the way he would a Dead Dominion: with extreme caution and enough back-up plans to guarantee a return trip. ]
They can be picky, or so I am told. I haven't had much to do with them and my escort here has little need to pay tribute to anyone. [As far as she knew, anyway.]
You mean the man I saw you with? [Arthur asks, and Morgana nods but also shrugs a little as she's not entirely sure what Arthur had seen on that fateful day.]
Don't get your hackles up, he did what he did to protect me. He cares for me very much. He is kin.
arthur pls don't punch him he's just confirming shit
But it would make sense, now that he considers it. She's not Gentry, but if she were of Gentry-blood, then that would explain why she's able to wander without fear of being taken. ]
Quick question. [ Because he noticed it earlier but didn't think anything of it until now. ] We're on a border: fall and winter.
[ He nods to the line where the gold of autumn faded and transition into the crystal of snow. ]
You kept to this side when you were peering at Arthur earlier. Was that because permissions from the other court are required?
I like to stay where I am welcome and protected. I have few friends in Autumn and fewer kin, though I dare not say with certainty that I have none there.
[Faeries had a way of just popping up in her bloodline it seemed. It wouldn't actually shock her at this point if she had a whole host of cousins somehow in Autumn or Summer.] It is a fear-filled land, also, more prone to playing with that which haunts you most than Winter ever would.
I have lived here or in Spring but nowhere else, and I don't mean to try the other courts on for size.
[Arthur's frown grows so deep that it makes his forehead crease.
Then about a minute later, regardless of if anyone else is talking at the time.]
Wait, who is the fairy kin? They only took you so is it Gorlois?
Not my Da, no, but his kin. I cannot say if you have any in you, sorry. [After all, who could say with the way fairies fucked around and let other people find out.]
[ Fox had commented something about Arthur, but he doesn't remember it right now. Something about the boy not being Fae, but that he had protections more than most—for all that the boy was oblivious to it.
He crosses over the border and into Winter, no sense standing on the other side of the fence given that safety's more likely to be true if he sticks with Morgana and Arthur. ]
That must be the reason the old ghost seemed particularly convinced that you were okay, for all that he still has a bone to pick with your stepdad.
[ Gorlois had been an interesting discovery the day he'd followed Arthur to the cemetery where a 12-year-old Morgana had presumably been laid to rest. The old(er) man had stood close to Josh, his ghost particularly lucid for a facsimile. But then some of the restless dead became that over the years. An entity of their own with some limited sense of agency instead of an echo of what had been left behind. ]
Old ghost? [Morgana immediately is paying more attention to Josh, as though he had tugged a string connected directly to her.] My Da? Gorlois? You saw him???
[This, Arthur remembers. That look of pain that could become so intense on Morgana's features that he was tempted to flinch himself. He had never met the man, not even in a dream, at least nothing before all of this but he had seen him in a thousand ways Morgana was nothing like their mother or anyone else he had known growing up. She was more her father's daughter than she had ever been ygraines and it didn't take knowing the man to be sure of it.
Especially when she had that look on her face and she hadn't once asked after their mother, who, too, had never asked after her or considered Arthur might be speaking the truth.
Quickly he finds himself gently stroking patterns on her palm, to soothe and distract her.]
[ He doesn't expect such a visceral reaction, but he can tell that this is important. At least, judging by the way Arthur's taken to fussing gently over her. ]
Yes. He's still hanging around where, I assume, your mother had him buried.
[ The old ghost wasn't a Reaper, but it's telling that he was calling the shots and keeping the dead in line. He was also, if Josh was to take him on his word, capable of stepping away from where he'd been laid to rest to wander the Pendragon home. ]
He asked that I help Arthur. But yeah, was around.
Did she bury us together, then? Well not me but... you know. [There is such longing in Morgana's eyes at the thought of seeing her father again, of finally getting to rest with him. There had been times as a child she wished she could have and might have tempted fate enough to cross over if not for the steady anchor of looking after Arthur.]
She did, father was unhappy about it, but she did.
Uther is unhappy about everything, up to and including the rotation of the earth. Strange though, given... everything. [The betrayals, the immediate moving on after his death - or before it, really. The fact she had stopped noticing Morgana was even a person as soon as Uther came around.]
[ He's thoughtful as he watches their exchange; the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Based on everything he's heard so far about Arthur's father, he doesn't care much for the man. But Gorlois was a whole kettle of fish altogether. ]
I... [ he pauses, purses his lips a little and then works out what it is he really wants to say. ] If you can travel out of here, I can arrange for you to speak with him.
[ He still has most of what they weren't able to use up for the Dumb Supper, Morgana not actually being dead and all. ]
I have never gone on my own. Grandfather sometimes let me in the lands betwixt but never fully home.
[Yet her desire to see her father does more than enough to cover any fear the idea brings her, she looks deep in thought even as Arthur's eyes grow more eager. Faerie seemed nice enough, for such a strangely fair and foul place, but to have Morgana home, amongst the living, somewhere he could always find her?
That, he couldn't let go of. Not now, not ever. He squeezes her hand, and though his knowledge of such things was hardly anything at all, he spoke with confidence.]
I am sure you will pass safely with us, Morgana. You say these people love you and they have no love of us yet we were safe enough.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
↠ one. the canyons broken by cloud
On any given day, Josh makes it a point to generally steer clear of Fox and Rabbit. The Fae brokers were notorious for asking for the oddest things, and they'd never quite lost interest in the keys he kept close at all times. But when a boy named Arthur walked into EXIT asking for help raising the ghost of his sister for closure, it was bound to be the odd kind of month; filled with negotiations for safe(ish) passage past the Hedge to track down a lost family member.
Turns out, there was no ghost to raise. No little twelve-year-old Morgana to speak to for Arthur to apologize to and profess feelings of loss for. And more importantly, no body in the box that Arthur had dug out of the ground; just a rotted old piece of firewood dressed in a young girl's clothes.
They had ended up sitting down to finish off the Dumb Supper they'd set down for the Supper (favorite dishes, drinks that would have kept the meal going), while Arthur seethed under his breath, murmuring that gaslighting sonofabitch as while he brooded over one of the beers Ana had swiped from behind the counter.
It's been the equivalent of three days now, since they crossed the threshold of a maze Migo had tracked down in the middle of a small midwest town. The borders of Fae weren't too different from the Gates of the Underworld, in that there was always a guardian, and they always asked for a toll:
the sweetness of youth with the rot of age (three apples half past their expiry date, frozen to maintain the illusion of freshness)
a broken love song (a cracked Sarah Mclachlan vinyl), and
a knight's favor from a lady love (Arthur had kept one of Morgana's ribbons, Josh wasn't sure how that counted but Rabbit assured him that it'd do even if they were siblings)
The goblin at the gate had been dressed as one of the farm hands, and his mismatched eyes (one blue, one yellow) had gleamed at the sight of them: Odd to have Jack's Lantern take interest in the business of the Bright Ones.
But they'd made it through with little to no fanfare, turned the corner of the maze to find themselves on the very edge of Autumn at the borders of the Winter Court.
They've set up camp, him and Arthur, a good six feet away from the river's edge. The younger man is sleeping now, while he takes first watch. ]
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Time in Faerie moved strangely, without notice and somehow drawing on too long. Sometimes, she had been inconsolable until they let her peer through the veil and see Arthur building a castle out of blocks or awkwardly smiling at the first girl he noticed was actually a girl. He grew up, and she felt less need to peer over his shoulder.
In some ways, she wondered if she was growing up too. It didn't always feel like it, not with her being barely in her mid-twenties if she had still been in the moral realm, and especially not with her being surrounded by ageless beings who held so much power that you could physically feel it any time they set their attention upon you.
Yet for the most part, save the odd twinge of guilt, she was happy here. Happier than she had been since her father died. Her only responsibilities were to learn what she was taught and to not go prying into things that were beyond her ken.
Often she could be found on the edges of the realm, not testing her way out but looking with the curiosity only a part mortal could have at the mists, hedges, deep dark places in the forests where things got strange but stopping short of where they would get dangerous and anyone would think she was ungrateful enough to try and leave without so much as an attempt to first ask if she could go.
So it happened that one day when she was wandering around in the half-wilderness of the gardens that surrounded Winter she sensed something strange, and then saw someone strange, someone new and not accompanied by any of the fae and not, as far as she could sense, one himself. He was far enough away that she could slip behind a tree, the white of her dress helping to conceal her in the mist as she curiously peered him. He was in the lands of Autumn, technically, but only barely and surely intending to cross - but why? As kind as her people were to her, they weren't so kind to everyone. Was he with someone else? He seemed to have no obvious weapon, no horse either, no fae creatures to guard him.
Sticking to the trees, Morgana snuck closer. It was like her heart was dragging her feet along, sensing something she could not put to words or even fully form in her mind.
Morgana found herself at the very edge of winter, a step away from crossing the border.]
Who goes there? [She asks, her voice almost ghostly and as if it had come from the trees themselves and not the girl using them as her guard. The old man would be proud she had learned so well.]
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Josh rises. Tucking the notebook away in his back pocket, he speaks out into the void of the forest: ] Depends on who's asking.
[ If this was the Underworld, he would present himself accordingly. As it stands, it's more likely that Fae will take his title as permission to turn him into something not quite human if they felt like it. ]
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[She sounds, and feels, curiously disappointed. As she speaks, her voice spilling out from all of the trees around her like an echo she quietly and swiftly climbs up the white-barked tree she had been standing behind, using the height it gives her to get a better look at their soon-to-be guest.]
You are not alone. [It is not a question, even though she is struggling to see clearly enough to be sure of who or what he has with him.] Perhaps your friend would like to speak instead?
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His geist has settled around his shoulders, her distress coming out in soft hisses that only he can hear. She's more visible now, a wisp of smoke solidifying into something akin to a shawl. The movement jolts half-wilted petals from her ghostly hair, falling to the ground and shriveling into nothing.
Josh chooses his words carefully. The last thing he wants to do is give offense. At the risk that this is one of the Gentry, it'll do him and Arthur no good to get on the speaker's bad side. ]
My title holds on bearing in this realm, Lady. I offer my apologies for any offense caused. [ He holds his ground, squares his shoulders. ] In the Lands of the Dead I am known as Jack's Lantern. I am a guide for the lost and the lonely departed who fear the Upper Reaches, but require passage towards rivers manned by The Ferryman's ilk.
My friend and I have come to Arcadia in search for a loved one. He came to me seeking closure with her ghost, only to find that he had been deceived of her death.
[ He ends his speech there. He hopes it's enough that the voice won't ask for specifics. If there was one thing Fox told him to avoid, it was talking too much.
This isn't your wheelhouse, hoss. Best not to divulge secrets or information you don't want the Fae using against you. ]
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He doesn't look like a threat, anyway, but foul things so often looked fair, especially on the edges of things, the in-betweens.
When he speaks again, she listens, carefully as she has been taught. He thinks her one of her kin, that is clear enough. No one speaks to the mortal-born with quite as much caution as they do with a full fae. Not without reason, either, for they love tripping people up with word games and etiquette she can only imagine they thought up one evening millennia ago when they wanted some way to piss each other off with all its complexities and traps.
He really was far from home. The clump of trees she had made her nest in move slightly, as if tilting their head just the way she is as she listens.
A man, seeking closure with a loved one.... who thought she had died and the trail lead them here? Morgana froze.
Grandfather, help her. What was she to do? Was that Arthur over there being a lump on the ground? He couldn't be here, it was dangerous, they could be so vicious with someone who didn't belong there was so much...]
What is his name? [She wants to sound calm, but she doesn't, nor do the trees around her feel calm anymore but instead their branches tossed by a wind unfelt by anything but themselves.] It is important. Tell me his name, Jack's Lantern. [Please, she thinks, but does not say. Pleading shows weakness.]
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There's no need, he tells her in his mind, but his geist is having none of it.
we are in a strange place far from home. we are speaking to a strange woman who might mean us harm.
i listened to Rabbit, Joshua. Rabbit says the Fae are not to be trusted. i will not risk them taking you from me.
So he takes a breath and carries on, offering another apology first. ]
Perhaps if you show yourself first, my Lady. [ Dealing with an anxious child geist was not on his list of things to do today. ] My companion, [ he emphasizes the word ] is a touch skittish.
She does not want to be here. But I promised Arthur I would help.
[ There is your answer. ]
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Yet here he was, apparently, with.......
Wait what was wrong with the Lantern fellow?
Her green eyes snapped from the lumpy form of her probable-brother napping and back to Jack's Lantern as he got strange and pale. She stepped forward and the tree moved, folding itself to form a staircase with its branches so she could walk down to the ground without risk of falling.
She wasn't a tall woman, and she was nearly as pale as the mists that she dismissed from around her or the white silk dress that draped over her body. The only darkness was in her hair, ebony against her fair skin and falling freely over her shoulders save for two braids which joined together at the back to keep her long hair from covering her face at every other move she made.
Her feet were bare, despite the cold ground on which she stood. She was part of winter, she could not be harmed easily by it.
Morgana walked right up to him, as close as she could without crossing the boundary, and then to the side, crouching down so she could get a better look at the mop of golden hair sticking out from under a blanket.
The Lantern boy might or might not be a threat, she didn't really care. She had to know if it was truly Arthur.]
Little cub? [She called, as she had done when Arthur was a baby, bouncing on her lap.] Wake up, little cub.
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Still, Josh can feel the goosebumps on his arms beneath the sleeves of his jacket at the sight of her and he's quiet until she walks over to where Arthur is still—for some bizarre reason—asleep.
He backs up a little, eyes fixed on the woman even as he tries to sooth his geist.
She's not going to hurt us. Now would you please, chill the fuck out?
NO.
She didn't look like Gentry—not that he would know what they looked like, really. But given all the cautionary tales Rabbit decided to wordvomit at them when he'd asked for the next possible entry into the Hedge—she really doesn't look like Gentry. ]
He was pretty insistent that he could find you. [ Josh keeps his voice light. Think casual. Very casual. ] First client I ever had who had a shovel in the trunk of his car.
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Little cub, [she calls again, her voice cooing softly as you would to a child having nightmares.] It's 'gana, you won.
[And as she speaks Arthur does, finally, draw himself out of his dream. There is something warm and soothing about it. It was like he could hear Morgana talking to him. Had they been playing hide and seek? She always let him win when he was sad or father was angry. But then they hadn't played that since the day she was taken by the tree man...
Only when he wakes, he can still hear her. She is talking to him. Her voice is different, now, no longer the voice of a little girl pretending to be a mother but a warmer voice, a woman's voice, no longer troubled by having to carry burdens she was too young to bear.
And then there was Josh's voice... he couldn't be actually hearing her, could he?
Little cub, look at me.
No one, not even his mother, not his mates, no one called him little cub like Morgana had once upon a time.
Suddenly, he sat bolt upright, oblivious to the orange leaves caught in his hair. He blinked, his vision blurry from sleep and there she loomed as he had so often imagined her, except here she was grown and herself, but not.]
I knew you would come, [Arthur said, not really believing it himself as he stumbles to his feet, overwhelmed and blindingly happy and terrified all at once. Where Morgana seemed to hesitate over some border, real or perceived, Arthur had no such concerns and bound over, swooping her up in a hug and spinning around with her.] I knew I saw you go..
[It was strange for Morgana to watch him come to life and realise she was speaking to him. She worried he might think her an apparition, she certainly looked like one, but in true Pendragon fashion, he barely thought at all before leaping to her and picking her up. He had grown so big. He was barely at her hip last she saw him and now here he was picking her up and spinning her around as if she weight nought more than a feather. The revelation that he had seen her go off into faerie, though, shakes her a little and when she speaks again her voice is cracked.]
You are so grown, Arthur. I am so sorry.
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I'm fine. You can let go. He doesn't push, only offers the option. Their relationship has grown enough that he doesn't need to bribe or force her to do anything, and it occurs to him once again that maybe the reason he took this job was because theirs is a sibling-like arrangement.
He, the older brother
father, friend. Her, the younger sisterdaughter, chargedespite The Flower Girl being over a century old.First friend, she'd called him not too long ago. You were the first to see me, screaming in the middle of that highway.
To the eyes of Morgana and Arthur, his pallor returns slow. Health and life blooming back onto his skin as The Flower Girl concedes, slipping off of him like fog to semi-materialize as an apparition dressed in a white dress tattered at the hem. Her hair is in a braid today; strewn, as always, with the while flowers used at funerals to fill in spaces between much larger blooms.
Her hand is wrapped around the edge of his jacket and she clings to Josh the way a child might. She says nothing now. She only watches.
Josh turns his attention back to the two. ] We can't stay very long, Arthur. Not unless they let us.
[ They, meaning the Gentry. Based on what Arthur told him and what Josh managed to get out from Fox and Rabbit, mortals typically became Changeling in Faerie and ran from their abusers when they managed to escape. Odd then, that this woman didn't seem like she was fleeing from the big bad fair folk. ]
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We only just got here. [He sounded petchulant, even to himself, but it was hard not to when his parents had been lying to him for the better part of two decades about what had happened to the only person in the family who truly loved him for himself and not because he was a good and useful prop for the family legacy.
God knows, Morgana had had no reason to love him. As he understood and remembered it, he had been shoved off into her lap from almost the moment he was born. she had fed him when she was barely old enough to make herself bread and butter, she had chased after him, carried him when he must have weighed a third, if not half her weight. She had sung to him, and kissed his hair, she had been his entire world and never resented him for it despite the fact by doing this she was given no real childhood of her own.
He didn't wonder much at the fact she had been talked into some fairyland. He couldn't blame her, as much as he wanted to. And she had done all of that with her father dead and her previously loving (so he was told by his aunt) mother having all but forgotten she was a person.
And he absolutely could not leave her here. No. Never. Especially not without so much as an hour to make sure she was well and not mistreated.
Even now, with all these years apart he realised Morgana was humming softly to him and stroking the side of his face. She still smelt like lavender, and she still loved him enough to try and make him better.]
There is nothing to forgive, [he says quietly, belatedly realising that she had apologised while he was busy existing in the raging hurricane of his mind.] But you cannot seriously suggest I just leave her here? Aren't the fae- [He is cut off with a finger across his lips as Morgana forces his grip to give a little so she can do it.]
Don't say things you may come to regret. The fair folk live in everything in this realm, in one way or another, and aren't soon to forget an insult.
[But she didn't exactly know what to do either. She was not free to go home at will, it was not that kind of bargain]
I do not like to make promises in this land, but I do not believe they will hurt that which is under my protection. Because I am under theirs. [And she was very much loved, in their strange fashion.]
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[ He gets it. He does. He'd like to go home to a normal life with his mundane family. But he made his choice.
He didn't go home after the car crash. Hasn't been back since; despite all of Cindy's calls and emails. His sister is in college living out her best life. And while his krewe expresses concern for him cutting out everything that made him who he was pre-Bargain, he doesn't know where he could begin to explain that he died and came back. ]
I can fend for myself. There's not much that can knock me down that I won't get back up from. And at best, I'd be banged up—but I'd be able to go back.
[ And while Arthur doesn't seem to be in a mood to listen, he can still drive the point home. ] You're human. You're a lot more fragile than you think.
But we can stay a little longer. [ A nod, to Morgana. ] Just know the moment I smell trouble we'll need to hoof it.
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He would want to protect her, and it seemed like he'd go to hell personally if he had too to drag her out of it.
She almost wished he couldn't remember her.
As she thinks, Arthur splutters.]
Morgana is human, [he sounds like he thinks the lantern boy was calling her names, so to cut off a fight before it begins she has to interject:]
Not as much as we both thought, little cub. Or should I say bear? You're not so little anymore. You're going to squeeze me in half.
[Suddendly he looks a little guilty and gingerly places her back on the ground in front of him, and she moves, turns really, so she can look at the lantern boy and his sudden friend. Her head falls back against Arthur who is definitely trying to do some math as to how Morgana could possibly be not human
while the adults talk]You have not introduced your friend, I assume she is why you look so strange from time to time? [Morgana asks, gently, even as she's fairly sure she hears Arthur mutter that he likes "cub" more, and, also, was their mother a fairy? was it Gorlois?????]
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The Flower Girl gets protective. [ He offers by way of explanation. ] With her, I'm whole and alive. With me, she gets a taste of life denied her for roughly a hundred years.
[ There are mysteries to unfold still. Answers they need to find to the questions surrounding her death. ]
And since formalities are done, it's nice to meet you Morgana. Though admittedly, I didn't expect to see you wandering around free in Arcadia.
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Maybe.]
You thought me a prisoner? [She knows, of course, that it is a solid possibility. But then, she had always felt strange and coming here had normalised something in her so that she was treated mostly with kindness both shocked her and didn't at all. She belonged here, in a way she hadn't at home. No one avoided her or looked at her strangely in Arcadia, or thought her to be a bit mental.]
Of course we did... I always thought you would come home, if you knew how. [Arthur says, still quietly as he leans his head against hers, his cheek resting against the inky black.]
I am sorry to have left you, and to have worried you... [Both of you, apparently, though obviously not lantern boy nearly as much as Arthur.] But why the shovel? Do I have a grave?
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Your brother came to me because we— [ gesturing to The Flower Girl now ] —have a set of skills in the domain of the dead.
[ How Arthur had found out about them, he's not entirely sure. He just knows that Pendragon had strolled right into his bar right as he was heading out for a smoke asking if he could perform the Dumb Supper. ]
Normally it means that the living get one last mean with their departed loved ones for closure. But.
[ There had been no ghost to raise. It had been very awkward. He offers a shrug and then adds: ] I only found out about the shovel after Arthur here stormed out hissing "I knew it".
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It was no replacement for a missing sister, to be sure, but the idea that they thought her actually dead settled strangely in her stomach now that she knew for sure the cover story the fae had made for her vanishing act.
Morgana turns her head and looks at Arthur, who looks a little flustered.]
Well, I did. I saw the man walk you into the garden and you never came out again. Anything could have happened to you, Morgana. [Yet he had somehow been so sure that somehow she was alive that despite the "evidence" he could never actually lay the memory to bed.
And so, here they were.
A moment later, Morgana takes his hand and squeezes it. Her hand feels so small compared to his now, when hers used to envelop his childish, stubby fingers.]
I didn't know anyone else could see him, or that you were watching or I would never... [She swallows.]
You boys must be hungry. Or thirsty? I can sort something out for you while you are here.
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[ It's an ambiguous enough response, given how he isn't sure how good Faerie food would be for them. They had enough to tide them over for at least a while. ]
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Arthur startled, but tried not to look too alarmed that his long lost sister, his best friend, had some aspect to her he'd never known to look and see before she went away. Morgana squeezes his hand before using that anchor point to drag him off towards the seats which are more comfortable than they look.]
That was -
Magic, yes, you missed me climbing out of the tree earlier, I guess. You were doing your best rock impression while the Lantern was trying not to draw attention to you.
[Arthur rubbed his temples, sinking back into the seat. At least if the furniture came alive and ate him he wouldn't have to think about this longer.]
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First, she's not a captive. If anything, she looks very at home in Faerie. Second, while it's probably for the best to continue to keep his guard up, he came here for a job. That's to offer Arthur some kind of closure or next step. ]
You can just call me Josh. [ Might be best to dispense with formalities for now if he'd actually like to be referred to by his actual name instead of his title. ] The title really was just because this isn't my side of the tracks.
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Pleasure to meet you, Josh.
[Poor Arthur looks confused again, and realises whatever they had spoken of before he awoke apparently hadn't included an actual introduction, which earns Josh a quizzical squint with a gentle side of did-you-insult-my-sister that he doesn't actually speak.
He continues not to speak even when his eyes go back to Morgana. Part of him expected to find her as she had been, tall for her age but shorter than he would grow to be when he reached the same, her hair up in that too-tight braid she set it in every morning before school and looking after him. That perpetual look of tiredness about her eyes.
But here they were and she was fully grown, a woman now, maybe a few inches taller and much less exhausted. She was not trapped at age twelve, not hurt or killed. What could he even say to her? Come back to where life is boring and stressful and you've got to deal with society just to survive? Did she have friends here? Family? Was this heaven?]
You look lost, little cub. I do not know what to say and I think you do not know what to ask... is that so?
[He just nodded, leaning back into the embrace of her woven chair.]
Perhaps there is a lighter topic for now... like how did you talk your way in here without any fanfare?
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[ Allies seems like a stretch of a way to describe Fox and Rabbit. ]
And I've been aware of pathways into the Hedge for sometime now, so it was a matter of figuring out what to pay the gatekeeper.
[ Some things are universal. Guesting laws. Tithes. He'd approached stepping into Arcadia the way he would a Dead Dominion: with extreme caution and enough back-up plans to guarantee a return trip. ]
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You mean the man I saw you with? [Arthur asks, and Morgana nods but also shrugs a little as she's not entirely sure what Arthur had seen on that fateful day.]
Don't get your hackles up, he did what he did to protect me. He cares for me very much. He is kin.
arthur pls don't punch him he's just confirming shit
But it would make sense, now that he considers it. She's not Gentry, but if she were of Gentry-blood, then that would explain why she's able to wander without fear of being taken. ]
Quick question. [ Because he noticed it earlier but didn't think anything of it until now. ] We're on a border: fall and winter.
[ He nods to the line where the gold of autumn faded and transition into the crystal of snow. ]
You kept to this side when you were peering at Arthur earlier. Was that because permissions from the other court are required?
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[Faeries had a way of just popping up in her bloodline it seemed. It wouldn't actually shock her at this point if she had a whole host of cousins somehow in Autumn or Summer.] It is a fear-filled land, also, more prone to playing with that which haunts you most than Winter ever would.
I have lived here or in Spring but nowhere else, and I don't mean to try the other courts on for size.
[Arthur's frown grows so deep that it makes his forehead crease.
Then about a minute later, regardless of if anyone else is talking at the time.]
Wait, who is the fairy kin? They only took you so is it Gorlois?
Not my Da, no, but his kin. I cannot say if you have any in you, sorry. [After all, who could say with the way fairies fucked around and let other people find out.]
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He crosses over the border and into Winter, no sense standing on the other side of the fence given that safety's more likely to be true if he sticks with Morgana and Arthur. ]
That must be the reason the old ghost seemed particularly convinced that you were okay, for all that he still has a bone to pick with your stepdad.
[ Gorlois had been an interesting discovery the day he'd followed Arthur to the cemetery where a 12-year-old Morgana had presumably been laid to rest. The old(er) man had stood close to Josh, his ghost particularly lucid for a facsimile. But then some of the restless dead became that over the years. An entity of their own with some limited sense of agency instead of an echo of what had been left behind. ]
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[This, Arthur remembers. That look of pain that could become so intense on Morgana's features that he was tempted to flinch himself. He had never met the man, not even in a dream, at least nothing before all of this but he had seen him in a thousand ways Morgana was nothing like their mother or anyone else he had known growing up. She was more her father's daughter than she had ever been ygraines and it didn't take knowing the man to be sure of it.
Especially when she had that look on her face and she hadn't once asked after their mother, who, too, had never asked after her or considered Arthur might be speaking the truth.
Quickly he finds himself gently stroking patterns on her palm, to soothe and distract her.]
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Yes. He's still hanging around where, I assume, your mother had him buried.
[ The old ghost wasn't a Reaper, but it's telling that he was calling the shots and keeping the dead in line. He was also, if Josh was to take him on his word, capable of stepping away from where he'd been laid to rest to wander the Pendragon home. ]
He asked that I help Arthur. But yeah, was around.
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She did, father was unhappy about it, but she did.
Uther is unhappy about everything, up to and including the rotation of the earth. Strange though, given... everything. [The betrayals, the immediate moving on after his death - or before it, really. The fact she had stopped noticing Morgana was even a person as soon as Uther came around.]
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I... [ he pauses, purses his lips a little and then works out what it is he really wants to say. ] If you can travel out of here, I can arrange for you to speak with him.
[ He still has most of what they weren't able to use up for the Dumb Supper, Morgana not actually being dead and all. ]
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[Yet her desire to see her father does more than enough to cover any fear the idea brings her, she looks deep in thought even as Arthur's eyes grow more eager. Faerie seemed nice enough, for such a strangely fair and foul place, but to have Morgana home, amongst the living, somewhere he could always find her?
That, he couldn't let go of. Not now, not ever. He squeezes her hand, and though his knowledge of such things was hardly anything at all, he spoke with confidence.]
I am sure you will pass safely with us, Morgana. You say these people love you and they have no love of us yet we were safe enough.