sakon76

Intertwined
by K. Stonham
chapter 1: Wanting and Waiting
first released 8th March 2022

It was deeply unfair, Hisirdoux felt, that he hit his final stretch of puberty a thousand years late. If he had developed normally, he'd have experienced it in the twelfth century, had nearly a millennia of ill-advised flirtations under his belt, and been over and done with things. Or if he'd hit it even a couple of centuries earlier, he would have been around other people, ones who weren't so committed to one another, so devoted.

So admirable in every way.

He stood frozen, watching Jim and Claire slowly waltz their way around the courtyard, caught up in their dance, as Hisirdoux finally woke up and realized that what he was feeling when he looked at them was something beyond simple friendship. Beyond a brotherly devotion. Beyond even his private fealty to his king and queen.

No, what he felt was so much more, and so much worse.

His heart turned over, and he wanted.

Oh, he realized. This is love. I'm in love with them. It felt hard to breathe, all of a sudden. As if naming it caused it to grow, the feeling expanded, filling his chest, his mind, his fingertips, even his toes. Like there wasn't room for anything else but the two people before him.

Jim and Claire, who were so very much in love with one another, after nearly a century of marriage.

There was no room for him, Douxie knew, in that relationship. And the very fact that he was having these feelings for his friends, his sworn brother and sister, his king and queen, was wrong, so very wrong. They must never, ever know; he must never show a hint of it. Surely the feelings would fade?

Let this disappear. Let it go away. Please.

With a smile on his face that he did not feel, and an ease to his movements that was surely false, Douxie left the dancing couple and went to his rooms. Carefully shut the doors, both with physical and magical locks. Fell onto his bed and fisted his hands. And let the tears leak hot on his face as he fought himself.

Because he wanted-- but he couldn't--

It's not fair. Why do I have to love them? Why can't it be someone else? Anyone else?

(How could it be anyone else?)

I can't. I can't. I can't--

With a sob, he gave up.

He'd always felt too much, too strongly. Archie was the solid rock in their partnership; Douxie was the roller coaster ride of ups and downs. And his stupid, stupid heart wanted what it wanted, and had never turned aside from its chosen course, not once in a thousand years.

A father.

Mastery of wizardry.

And now... Jim and Claire.

Tenacity was one of Douxie's few virtues. But this... this was decidedly not virtuous. The opposite, in fact.

I refuse to be that person. I can't. I won't.

Douxie would not let himself be the person who tried to insinuate himself, to poison something golden, something solid. And even if he had been the kind of person to want to steal one partner away from the other... he wanted them both. They were precious as they were, happy and undamaged.

He could never betray Jim and Claire, and the trust they'd given him.

He could never try to take away their happiness. Could never be the viper in the bosom of Camelot. He was Jim's friend, Claire's teacher, their advisor. It was his job to make them laugh, to make them smile, to help with all the politics that Merlin refused to touch, that Morgana disdained, and that Jim was, frankly, just not good at.

But it hurt, the sheer knowledge that they could never, would never want him like that.

It wasn't his job to want more from them. His hand curled into a fist and he hit it fruitlessly against his pillow.

He was a friend, dammit, not a lover!

He couldn't be a lover. There was no room for him.

Caught between an immovable regard and an irresistible emotion, Hisirdoux was torn. Or crushed. The pain kept building and building inside his heart, until it had to have an escape, or it would destroy him.

Turning over, he let his tears fall free and clasped a pillow to his face, crying out the emotions running high and wild through him, trying to find a release.

Sometime later, after his voice had gone hoarse and his body ached from the tension he'd been holding it under, after his tears had run dry and he'd fallen slack from exhaustion, Archie found his way into the room and onto the bed. Douxie wasn't surprised; there wasn't a lock or shield that could keep his familiar from him.

"Douxie, what's wrong?" the cat-shaped dragon asked, picking his way across the bed.

"I love them," Douxie rasped, "and I can't."

"Oh," Archie said, taken aback.

"Just leave me alone," Douxie said, closing his eyes. And apparently he wasn't out of tears after all.

Archie didn't listen, curling close and purring softly. He was so warm. And Hisirdoux was so wrung out that he didn't even protest as Archie washed his face with his tongue, like he was a kitten needing bathing.

He managed to stay hiding in his rooms for three days before anyone checked on him. He assumed Archie had been making his excuses; what they were, Douxie didn't know or care. Either he was sick, or he was buried in a project. The project excuse was more likely, he thought; mentions of sickness would have sent his friends showing up with soup and sympathy.

He'd worked his way through denial and anger, guilt and depression, and had ended up back at a tense stoic resignation: They must never know.

"Hey," Jim said, knocking at the finally-open door frame to Douxie's workshop. His smile was gentle, and caring, and it hurt because Hisirdoux knew his friend would never mean it in the way he craved. "Haven't seen you for a few days. What's up?"

Douxie shrugged, forced a smile of his own. "Not much. Been following a lead that didn't pan out."

"Better luck next time?"

"Hopefully." Time to change the subject. "So what's been going on that I missed?"

"Not too much. We got called in to hunt down a kelpie."

Douxie blinked. "Sorry I missed that. Did Merlin or Morgana claim its mane?"

"Merlin. Morgana got the tail."

"Sit down," Douxie invited. "Tell me how the hunt went."

His heart hurt at the friendly conversation. But like a dog begging at the table, he couldn't help yearning for the scraps of affection he was so freely being given.

He managed well enough for some time. It helped that the overlap between their level of friendship and, well, love was so great. Douxie absolutely refused to let himself get caught up in trying to figure out whether he was more or less affectionate with Jim and Claire than before, because it would get him nowhere.

(Less. He erred on the side of being less.)

It worked. No one seemed to notice, not even Morgana, who was far more astute about such things than the rest of their associates.

(Morgana had taken lover after lover over the last century, revelling in the freedom that no longer being a king's sister granted her. Douxie considered applying her solution to his own life for about ten seconds, and felt sick at the thought.)

Smile. Be kind, always. Do not ruin their lives for an infatuation of yours.

He hurt, but he knew it would hurt worse to disrupt Jim and Claire's happiness. Or to, even for a moment, see pity on their faces as they realized he wanted something they could not give him.

There were worse things than living without romantic love. He'd done without for over a thousand years; he could do without for a thousand more.

"You're not going to manage it, Jim," Douxie told him, laughing.

Jim flicked crumbs of pastry dough at him. "Ye of little faith."

It was Pi(e) Day. The American version, anyway, March 14th. Which, on Camelot, meant exactly one thing. "You've been trying to replicate Camelot's pies for a century," Douxie said, leaning forward, his elbows on the counter. "And your attempts are wonderful. But, face it, the right ingredients just don't exist anymore."

"I'm getting close, " Jim stubbornly replied. "Even Morgana said so, last year. Anyway, cooking's all about adaptation and substitution."

"If you succeed this year," Claire said, coming to stand by Douxie, "I'm going to post to social, calling it the hundred-year-pie."

"Thousand-year pie," Jim muttered.

Douxie grinned up at Claire. "And which side of the bet do you have your coin laid on, Fair Lady Claire?"

She pursed her lips. "I don't think he'll get it this year," she said. "In the next two or three years, though...."

"Don't tell him that!" Jim glowered. "No influencing my Pie Day judge!"

His claim on Douxie felt like a gentle wash of warmth. "Hey, now, she's only trying to influence one of us. Though...." Douxie considered Claire's words. "Hmm. How could you even influence Merlin and Morgana?"

She hummed, shifting her weight as she thought the question over. "I... have no idea how to influence Merlin," she said finally. "Morgana could be bought with chocolate. But even if I tried bribing her, she'd be just as likely to accept the bribe and then give her honest opinion anyway."

"True," Douxie agreed about his fellow master wizard. He straightened up, stood tall. "So if you'd bribe Morgana with the good chocolate, Claire, what would you bribe me with?"

"Uhhh...." Her eyes lost focus. "You're kind of just as bad as Merlin, Doux. Can't think of what I'd bribe you with."

"I can," Jim murmured.

Douxie turned to look at him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Jim smirked. "I wouldn't try to bribe you," he said. "I'd bribe Archie. With salmon. And we all know you'll jump whatever way he tells you."

Douxie opened his mouth to protest the claim, but had to admit that Jim had a point. He shut his mouth.

Claire snickered. "Your face...!" she said.

Jim was chuckling, and had to actually lift a hand away from his rolling pin to wipe his eyes.

"I am maligned," Douxie complained with a huff, crossing his arms. "Unduly and unjustly maligned. Archie is not the boss of me."

"No, he's just your other half," Jim agreed, grinning. His gaze shifted to Claire, standing by Douxie's side. His heart was on his sleeve, or at least his face, as he looked lovingly at his wife. "And you'd do almost anything for him."

The sudden reminder of their relationship felt like a bucket of ice water dumped on Douxie, washing away the easy camaraderie of the moment before. Jim was Claire's, and Claire was Jim's, and neither of them were his. That had been, and always would be, true. He needed to back off, and remember that. His treacherous heart needed to be leashed.

Douxie breathed, and didn't allow his smile to waver even a fraction of an inch. "So what you're saying," he managed in an even tone, "is that in order to throw the cooking contest, I would need to bribe the chief competitor's wife in order to ruin his chances?"

"How did you get from-- you know what, never mind." Jim pointed the end of his rolling pin at Douxie. "Given this self-induced contest is to your benefit, maybe you'd be better off not interfering with it via my wife."

"Hmm." Douxie pretended to consider his options. The cold, breathless pit in the middle of his chest was a yawning chasm, emptiness shaped like what he wanted, but couldn't have. Never let them know, he thought. Aloud, he offered, "Well, then perhaps my best chance of throwing this contest is to interfere with the chef himself, then."

Jim was grinning, wide and easy. "Interfere how--Douxie, don't!" he yelped as his pie crust began to levitate.

"Relax, Jim." Douxie grinned back, easy and charming on the outside, hollow on the inside. His eyes sparkled even as he ached, unloved, an almost physical pain. "I'd never challenge someone who knows their way around knives the way you do." The pie crust floated, undamaged, back down to the countertop. "A wise man knows his limitations."

And his limits.

In the end, the pies were delicious... but not quite right yet, all three judges agreed. Something was still missing.

Douxie's fragile hold on the situation eventually shattered because of, of all people, Krel.

The Akiridion prince was hosting the septuplets for the week, giving their parents a break and indoctrinating the young princes and princesses into the fascinating world of combining Akiridion tech with Earth magic. Douxie normally enjoyed the annual science camps and helped Krel set up more and more dazzling projects to entice his nieces and nephews, but....

"Do not mind him," Krel told the youngsters. "He is distracted by being in the love."

Douxie froze, even as a chorus of "oooh"s met Krel's proclamation.

It had been months. Hisirdoux had been managing his stupid, useless, untoward feelings well enough, he thought. Then Krel, who was not as dense as he sometimes seemed, but also exactly as dense as he sometimes seemed, had to drag them out into the light.

The Akiridion prince actually took a step back at level of venom in Douxie's glare. "Sorry, I am sorry--" he said, hands up, as if warding off Douxie's sudden flash of hatred.

"In love?" someone asked from behind Douxie. And absolute zero could not have frozen Douxie more solidly in place, because that was Claire. With the worst timing in the world, that was Claire. "With who?" Claire asked, caring and friendship all through the tone of her voice.

It felt like the ice holding Douxie in place was now shards stabbing through his heart, because how could he answer? Lie to Claire? Not possible. Tell the truth? Equally impossible.

He drew a breath, aware of how it shook. Aware that his hands were suddenly trembling too. "It's nothing," Douxie managed to say, and left, looking at no one.

His blood pounded in his ears as he left Krel's workshop behind, but he didn't hear anyone following him. The farther away he walked, the faster his footsteps got. By the time he reached the far side of the castle, he was running up the tower steps, going blindly through the door to the orbital tower. Half not knowing what he was doing, he reached its roof and wrenched the release lever, setting it free of the main part of Camelot.

The orbital tower was used for dangerous experiments. For private conversations. For, Douxie was quite sure, occasional canoodling. And, right now, for not-too-quiet breakdowns, the rushing wind stealing away the half-choked sounds of his sobs and sleeve-muffled cries.

There was no way the objects of his stupid, pointless crush (if it was just a crush, why wasn't it going away? It had been months - why wouldn't it just go away?) were not going to be figured out. His friends were none of them stupid people (bar possibly Steve, but he wasn't on the planet right now). And refusing to give an answer and walking out on them? If he was lucky, Claire and Krel would chalk it up to embarrassment and kindly not bring it up again.

Hisirdoux's store of luck had run out the day Merlin had saved his life. And his friends were clever, clever people.

He let the wind chill him and curled up, his back against the cold stone parapet, wishing to never be found.

I could leave, he thought eventually. Anything to keep away from the kind, pitying looks he was sure to get. It's been a while, but maybe Arch'd like to wander again? They don't really need me for anything. The magic stuff Merlin and Morgana can cover, and anything else Jim and Claire can manage themselves.

It would hurt, leaving his home and family, but he was equally sure it would hurt less than the alternative.

We could go off-planet maybe? I mean, Aja says humans are still pretty rare out there, but if I let my hair go all black again, it's possible no one would know who I was....

Even Claire was unlikely to be able to track him across the cosmos.

But what if Archie doesn't want to...?

Hisirdoux tested out the thought of going it alone.

It was foreign. Terrifying. Bar a few hours in a future that hadn't happened, he hadn't been separated from his familiar in over a millennium.

No one knew him or loved him better than Archibald.

But Douxie absolutely could not stay on Camelot now that his feelings were being brought to light, and if that cost him his familiar....

Well, deep down, he'd always known that Archie was a blessing that deserved a better wizard, a better familiar, than Hisirdoux.

He felt the rift in the world opening before he heard it. He didn't look up as two pairs of footsteps walked out of Claire's shadow portal.

"Douxie--" Claire said.

"Leave me alone," he said, and if his voice was rough, he didn't care. He didn't care at all any more, he realized dully, except that he was hurting, had been for such a long time, and he wanted it to stop.

"Doux," and that was Jim now, strong and gentle and with a will of sheer forged steel, all at the same time, "won't you tell us what's wrong?"

Hisirdoux wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. "Just go away," he said, still not looking up, because they had him pinned. There was no way out but past them. Even the stray thought of going over the edge bore no fruit, because he knew Claire would just shadow-portal him out of the fall, he'd land hard on the stones before her feet, and then he'd be bruised and humiliated.

Predictably, they ignored him and walked closer. They knelt down on either side of him. He could feel their warmth, blocking the cold wind.

His fingers curled into fists. He wanted to die. Spare himself the humiliation and heartbreak and pity that was surely coming.

"I don't think we should be leaving you alone right now," Jim said softly. Like he knew what thoughts had been going through Hisirdoux's mind.

Claire pressed against his side. "What's wrong, Doux? C'mon, you can tell us." He shook his head. "Is this to do with why you've been pulling away from us?"

They'd noticed? Ruthlessly, he quashed the tiny feeling of hope that fluttered up. Because he was an idiot; of course they'd have noticed. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice rough.

There was silence for a minute, then Jim shifted closer too, so they were bracketing him like a pair of bookends. Warm bookends. "You know," Jim said, "sometimes you and Krel are a lot alike."

Douxie dully waited to see where Jim was going with this.

"You're both brilliant," Jim said, "but sometimes you're both... idiots."

Douxie uncurled by instinct, because he wasn't sure just what that uncertainty had been in Jim's voice, but he knew it was important, and that he needed to fix it.

Claire's hand touched Douxie's jaw and directed him to look at her. Her large brown eyes seemed to be searching for something, them she leaned in and kissed him.

For an instant, Douxie was frozen.

Then he jerked away so hard and fast he hit his head on the battlement.

"What the-- what the heck, Claire?!" Douxie demanded.

She smiled at him, but there was nervousness across her face. "I'm sorry if I'm misreading it, Doux, but..." She breathed out. "Am I?" she asked, voice small.

Mute, he shook his head. Then, "You're married," he told her.

She shrugged, and leaned in to kiss him again. And she was warm, and her mouth was soft, and she smelled of something spicy--

Hisirdoux held very still, his mind whirling and senses, he was sure, on overdrive, until Claire pulled away again.

"You really don't know how to kiss, do you?" she asked.

His eyes widened indignantly. "Well, pardon me for a thousand years of asexuality!"

She laughed, warm and shaking against him. Her head rested on his shoulder. Her fingers interlaced with his.

"So is it just Claire?" Jim asked him softly from his other side.

Douxie's eyes opened wide, shocked. He shook his head, meeting Jim's gaze. "How could it be?" he asked hoarsely, and was rewarded with Jim's smile, with his blooming happiness that slowly echoed and reflected in Douxie's chest, the pain receding. He got to have this, how did he get to have it, he didn't care, all he wanted was this--

Jim's kiss was just as careful and gentle as Claire's, and as he pulled away, he curled his fingers with Douxie's other hand.

And for the first time in a long time, nothing hurt.

Author's Note: This is not necessarily a sequel to Your Future Hasn't Been Written Yet, though I do use a lot of the concepts from that story here as well.