Author's Notes: Written for the Snail Mail Porn community in December 2005.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Irving/Kalen
Written: 2006
Unicorns purified all poisons. If you couldn’t get the actual beast to do what you wanted, and unicorns were notoriously fickle about people getting out of their own messes, then the beast’s horn, an alicorn, would also work.
Unicorns were attracted to virgins. Beautiful virgins mostly, but an ugly one who no one would touch because… well, they would do in a pinch. Just as long as the virgin sat quietly out in the woods without a thought in their pretty little head, it would come.
Unicorns were often killed when they fell for the virgin in question. That was strange when you considered that unicorns had been around since the dawn of time and should know better by now. Maybe it was in the Creator’s plan that they didn’t. How else would anyone get a unicorn horn if they couldn’t even be lured out?
This was how Kalen found himself sitting in the middle of the woods, on a stump, wondering how much longer he was going to have to wait until the infernal beast showed up. His butt was going numb. Most of the knights turned hunters had wandered away hours ago. Sheer stubbornness was the only thing that kept him in place.
I told you he wasn’t a virgin.
Someone slept with him?
Lady must have been real desperate.
Or some Lord.
Probably some Lord. This is Kalen.
Well, I guess everyone looks the same when the lights are out.
Kalen hated them all. He gritted his teeth, forced his mind to go blank, and refused to leave. People were counting on someone getting a unicorn and the other virgins had given up. When this was over and he was a hero, Kalen was going to strangle Prince Hart.
“You don’t look very happy to be out here.”
Kalen’s first thought was Finally, a unicorn. Then he realized he actually recognized the voice. His heart fell. “Oh. It’s you.”
“Nice to see you to, Chatelaine.”
Irving was quite possibly the most infuriating man Kalen had ever had the misfortune of meeting. He was either a bandit or a pirate, possibly both. He dressed like a pirate: flashy clothing with way too much gold embroidery and very little in the way of decorum. It made Kalen want to pull out a set of sumptuary laws and beat Irving over the head with them.
He wore his black hair in ringlets that cascaded down past his waist. Ringlets. No man with any sense of pride wore his hair in ringlets. It was absolutely beyond Kalen how Irving did it and managed to still look manly.
“I am not a chatelaine,” Kalen protested. Chatelaines were wives of nobility who ran the house while their lords went off and tried to get themselves killed doing suitably noble deeds of stupidity. “Just because I keep the castle running until the Prince weds does not mean I approve of that title.”
Irving, instead of being properly repentant, cocked his head to one side. His blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “I do believe we have had this conversation before.”
“And I have the sinking feeling that we will have this conversation again since you insist on calling me by a title that I am not qualified for,” Kalen stated. His voice could freeze ice and had sent merchants to the floor, begging for his forgiveness.
The cocky bastard only smiled harder.
“I don’t know. You don’t like women. Rumor has it you make a damn fine mare. Who’s the lucky stallion? Er… so to speak.”
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. You can’t kill him. You’ve tried. Kalen forced himself not to get mad. “There is no lucky stallion, you prick. That’s why I’m out here.”
“No lucky stallion and no lucky mare. Such a pity,” Irving said. Kalen had long ago given up trying to decide if Irving was being obtuse, stupid, or cruel. For all that he accused him of being otherwise, Irving was not stupid. It didn’t seem to be in Irving’s nature to be cruel, not when he went out of his way to be kind to everything weaker than him. That left obtuse. “And the reason you’re out here?”
Oh goody. Another reason for him to laugh at me. “I’m out here because I’m trying to attract a unicorn.”
For one brief, glorious second Kalen thought he wouldn’t get laughed at. Then Irving was sitting on the ground holding his sides and rolling he was laughing so hard. Kalen began to count backwards from fifty. “Would you go away? You’ll scare off any unicorn within a hundred mile radius with your braying.”
That only made Irving laugh harder.
Eventually, Irving pulled himself up until he was seated on the ground between Kalen’s legs with his back to the stump. When the laughter had wound down to just chuckles, he was finally able to ask the most important question. “Why do you need a unicorn?”
“When the Prince was young, about six or so, he went fishing in the nearby river. On his hook he pulled up a wyrm.” Irving went still, head held up, listening. “It was about as long as his palm. A baby. Instead of putting it back in the water, he put it in his pocket. When he got to the castle, he threw it into the well.”
Irving hissed. “He’s what? Eighteen now? Let me guess. That thing has been growing in the well for twelve years and now it’s big enough to cause real havoc.”
“Yes.” It was a relief for Kalen to have someone grasp the situation so quickly. “It emerged a few weeks ago. We have plenty of knights about. They managed to wound it, but couldn’t kill it before it went back down the well. The well is fouled and it’s spreading to other wells and the river.”
“You need a unicorn to purify the well,” Irving stated. “Maybe defeat the wyrm as well.”
Kalen shook his head. “I think the thing is dead and its corpse is defiling the water.” Irving snorted.
“A dead wyrm wouldn’t spread poison. It would be localized. My guess is that your wyrm is still alive, pissed that you hurt it, and is hoping to drive everyone out of the castle so it can take it over.”
“I hope not.” Kalen closed his eyes. If what Irving speculated was true, then they were in more trouble than he’d initially thought. “Anyway, purifying the well is our first priority. Otherwise, no one will be able to stay in the castle. We started with about a dozen virgins. Most of them have given up. I refuse to.”
“How long have you been out here?” Irving asked. “And where's your band of merry knights to slay the unicorn when he shows up?”
“They left.” Kalen’s mouth drew into a thin line of disgust. “I’ve been out here since before sunrise. Before you ask, I’m not giving up.”
“Stubborn,” Irving said, but there was a fond grin on his face.
“Determined,” Kalen corrected. Silence descended. Kalen closed his eyes, turning his head upwards to feel the dappled sunlight on his face. A breeze blew through the trees and their leaves rustled.
“You must love him very much.” There was a sadness there that Kalen didn’t understand. Then again, he didn’t understand Irving’s the words either.
“Love? Love who?”
“The Prince.”
“What? No…. NO! I don’t… Hart wouldn’t be interested in me even if I was in love with him.” Kalen struggled with the words, trying to find a way to put this. His hands moved in useless gestures, shaping words in the air as he talked. “He’s my liege. He’s my friend. When no one else would give me a chance, he did. When no one would look at me, he always met my gaze. I can’t just abandon him. I have to try my best.”
“How noble. Is there no one you love, Chatelaine?” Irving asked.
Kalen sighed and refused to respond. What a stupid question. It doesn’t matter what I feel. No one would ever love me.
______________________________________
When Kalen was seven years old, he was apprenticed to an alchemist. His father sold him into an apprentice contract. He left home, crying, while his father tried to tell him this was for the best. This way he could rise in station. Kalen would become something other than just another peasant.
“You’re too smart, Kalen. I love you too much to force you into this life. That’s why you have to go.”
He spent the next seven years sweeping floors, scrubbing pots, cleaning glassware, learning his letters, and doing arithmetic. When he turned fourteen, he became a journeyman. For the next four years, he made basic potions, ordered stock, memorized ancient books, and learned how to decipher the ancient codes of alchemists.
Half way through his eighteenth year, his cauldron overheated while he was fixing a flea potion he’d done a thousand times before. The mixture had exploded. Kalen remembered trying to get his arms up in time to protect his face. The alchemist had found him unconscious on the floor when he returned from his trip a day later.
The healers hadn’t been able to do much. Too much time had passed since the explosion, and the acid had caused too much damage. Half of his face was scars, and his right eye was white and useless. The skin on his arm was much the same.
Kalen hadn’t even attempted to continue with his alchemic studies. He’d always loved finding rare ingredients, loved making sure everything needed for an experiment was on hand, loved the neat rows upon rows of numbers and letters in the ledgers. Since the accident effectively ended his apprentice contract with the alchemist, Kalen was free to pursue what he truly enjoyed.
It made him grateful. It made him happy.
Yet every time someone flinched from him, whispered behind their hands when they thought he couldn’t hear, or gasped at the first sight of his face a part of him wondered if doing what he loved was worth the scars he carried.
Especially when he watched the around him fall in love and realized it would never happen to him.
______________________________________
“Chatelaine.”
At some point, he must have fallen asleep though he’d done his best to stay awake. The ground was hard and dew had covered the world with a layer of damp. There was a rock under his leg, but moving required too much effort.
“You idiot. You’re lucky something didn’t try to eat you or someone try to rob you.”
Everything hurt. The voice sounded like Irving’s, but Irving had left him sometime late afternoon. After trying to convince him to go home and getting mad when he wouldn’t. Now it was well past the mid of night. Maybe even closer to sun rise, and he was still out here.
“Kalen. Get up.”
Irving never used his given name. Kalen tried to get up, because Irving wouldn’t use his given name unless it was important He really did try. Muscles screamed in protest. “Can’t.”
It was dark and everything was shadowed up under the trees in the forest. He couldn’t see Irving anywhere but he could hear his voice. “You can. You have to.”
“I’m still waiting…” Kalen said. He hadn’t eaten. His mouth was cottony. When was the last time he’d drunk anything? Maybe when he first started…
“No unicorn is going to want you dead, Kalen. Come with me. Get some sleep in an actual bed. You can try again tomorrow.”
It made sense, but it was hard to keep his thoughts straight. He hadn’t slept well the night before and maybe that was making it hard to think now since he hadn’t slept on the ground much either. There were things moving in the woods. Kalen had heard them moving, heard their screams as they died.
A bed sounded so tempting. Surely Hart would forgive him if he stole a few hours of sleep?
“Okay. I’ll get up.” Kalen nearly collapsed when he stood, but managed to keep his feet. His hands were shaking. “I can barely see.”
“My horse is right in front of you. Get on him. Then we’ll go home.” Sure enough, when Kalen reached out, he could feel a horse. His fingers searched, but found no saddle. How was he supposed to get up?
“He doesn’t have a saddle.”
“He doesn’t need one,” Irving replied.
“I can’t get onto a horse. I can barely stand,” Kalen explained with exaggerated patience.
The horse knelt suddenly, resting on the ground. That was a neat trick. Carefully, Kalen pulled himself onto the horse’s back. “I’m on.” He clung to the horse as it got to its feet and leaned against it when it started to move. “I’m tired.”
“Hold on. We’ll be there soon.”
“Why are you being nice to me?” Kalen asked.
The horse snorted. “Because you’re not the only idiot.”
______________________________________
The stares and whispers had gotten to him, driving him out into the forest. Kalen hated riding, so he’d simply walked out into the woods. It was one of Prince Hart’s private hunting forests. Foresters kept the bandits out.
He was staring at a waterfall, his mind blank, when Irving had found him.
What had surprised Kalen was Irving’s wit. It also infuriated him. By the end, he was shouting and Irving was simply standing there with a smug grin on his face.
Loneliness had driven into the forest a second time. That’s when he discovered Irving’s intelligence. The man knew a little bit about practically everything. It kept Kalen coming back again and again. One day they could be debating the deeper meanings of the stag in alchemic writings. The next they could be discussing how many stars there really were in the night sky and why anyone would want to count them all.
One of the great philosophers said love fell into four categories: requited and unrequited, possible and impossible. Somewhere along the line, Kalen realized he’d fallen hopelessly in love. It was unrequited and impossible, but that didn’t stop it from happening.
Court poets often asked “Is love worth the pain?” Being in Irving’s presence made Kalen’s heart hurt. It was a pain worse than potion that had scarred him for life. It made him waspish and vicious and say things that should have driven any sane man away.
Irving didn’t seem to mind.
It just made Kalen love him more.
______________________________________
He managed to stay awake long enough for them to reach Irving’s house. The horse lay down, Kalen got off, and then he passed out. When he came to, he was in a bed. Irving was dressed and stroking his hair.
“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Kalen asked. Because if I’m sleeping you should be too. With me. I’m dreaming right? You’re always nice to me in my dreams.
“I have to go.” Irving was disentangling their fingers. When did I grab his hand? “You sleep. I’ll be back in the morning. Or I’ll send someone to fetch you if I’m not.”
“Where are you going?”
Irving smiled. “I have to go slay a dragon. Nothing else I do seems to impress.”
Wish you would stay. You’re warm. “I hope she’s worth it.” Then Kalen was asleep. Irving took the opportunity to lean down and kissed him, briefly, on the forehead.
“He’s worth it.”
______________________________________
Kalen had been awake for about two hours. He’d didn’t know where he was beyond vaguely remembering that Irving was going to take him to his house and that someone, if not the man himself, would be showing up to take him home. There were a lot of trees outside. If he tried to find him way home and got lost, Kalen would never hear the end of it.
So instead he spent his time poking around Irving’s very spartan cabin. The man had nothing beyond a table, a fireplace with one pot, a bed, blankets, and a chest full of jewelry worth a king’s ransom. Where the heck did Irving keep all those fancy clothes he wore?
More importantly, where did he get those jewels?
Then the knights showed up. Every single one of them looked shamefaced. “We’re sorry for leaving you yesterday.”
“Sorrier for doubting you.”
“Kalen,” the leader, Rolan, bowed in his saddle. “We should never have doubted you’re virtue. The unicorn you sent has defeated the wyrm and purified the well. You are a hero. We hope that you will forgive us.”
“The unicorn… I sent?” What in blue blazes are you idiots yapping about?
“He was injured, but not seriously. We came to retrieve you in his stead,” Rolan said. Then he grinned. “You should have heard what he said to the Prince about throwing wyrms in wells and then sending out virgins to get someone else to fix his problems. It was a diatribe worthy of you.”
“I see.” Kalen decided it was better to play along than question. “I guess this means I’ll be riding? Never mind. I know the answer.” He went over to the extra horse and somehow managed to pull himself on it.
I wonder if I can get Irving to train a horse to lay down like his does.
______________________________________
“Ah. The Chatelaine appears. Sleep well?”
He recognized the voice instantly, even when it was coming from a unicorn. A very pretty smoky colored unicorn, whose muzzle darkened to black and whose mane and tail fell in inky waves. A unicorn whose horn shown like starlight. A unicorn that was currently lying in the Queen’s garden, soaking up sunlight.
“You’re a unicorn,” Kalen said. Even in this form he’s a lazy bastard. Part of him wanted to go over, throw his arms around Irving’s neck, and make sure he was all right. Instead he stood on the stone-lined path, unsure of himself and what falling in love with a glorified horse with a horn said about him. “You could have told me.”
“I could have,” Irving cheerfully agreed. Even his ears were pretty. Gorgeous. “But I didn’t. There’s not exactly a graceful way of mentioning that you’re an animal most people think is mythical.”
“They said you were injured.” Blue eyes watched him, but Irving didn’t say anything Kalen sighed. “Where?”
“My back leg. It’ll heal in a few days. The poison can’t harm me, but those claws were sharp.” Irving snorted. “I haven’t had to face a wyrm in centuries. I’m getting old.”
“Did you really do this for me?” Kalen asked. His heart clenched. Unicorns weren’t immortal, but they were damn close. You idiot. You shouldn’t have put yourself in danger just because I said something.
“Yes.”
“Even… even though I look like this.” It hurts even to ask. “How can you…”
“Silly. Come here since I can't get up.” Kalen found himself sitting next to Irving before he’d even really made a conscious decision. Oh Creator, I wasn’t riding a horse. I was riding him last night. He felt his face heat up
“I forget you humans can’t see a person’s soul. All of you are too focused on the physical.” Irving rested his head against Kalen’s shoulder. His breath stirred the blond hair on Kalen’s neck. “You’re soul is pure. That’s what first attracted me to you. I stayed because… because.”
“And here I thought it was my wit and virginity that got you hooked.” His hands were shaking. I should tell him. What if he’d died? He would never have known I loved him. It was easier to fall into the familiar baiting and arguing than for Kalen to find the words he wanted to say.
“That’s a myth you know. The virginity thing. We look for those pure of heart and soul, not necessarily of body and mind.”
“That’s nice to know,” Kalen said. He leaned his weight against Irving’s side, gathered his courage, and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Reassures me that when we do do things that you’ll still be around afterwards.”
Kalen gritted his teeth when he found out that Irving laughing sounded the same no matter what the form. “You have an odd way of saying your love me, Chatelaine.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“You prefer pretty mare, then?”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Irving said. He carefully got up, moved around Kalen, and lay back down with his head in Kalen’s lap. “I love you too.”