You Don't Want the Crown

The Story of the Sea Witch - 3

"No, it's fine, go on, ignore me," stupid motherfucker. Absolute idiot. Stupid idiot. Fall the fuck in love with him. Kiss him of my own free will. His dumb ass turns out to be a goddamn king. My mother's probably rejoicing somewhere thinking I did this intentionally. I did not. I just made the stupidest person alive and also this boy with no impulse control immortal. We're both immortal now. Should I tell him? No, he jumped off too many ships to begin with he can have that knowledge someday when it becomes relevant. It's not like I have to tell him he reads he gave his heart to a sea witch. He should know these things.
"You sure? Okay," the Hound pats my arm idly as he and his brother just hold onto each other like their lives depend on it.
"Yeah, your mother and Ita remain at the palace, as does our grandmother," Lonan says. He's very handsome, in a lost puppy just want to hug him forever kind of way. It's instantly not surprising why everyone knew where this guy lived they probably walk by to look at him.
"Take me to them! You yourself said you can get in, and it's not as though anyone would know me," the Hound reasons, hopefully.
"I will, we'll get you to her—we'll get her to you—I'm saying this with completely love and devotion—you look like a pirate right now, I realize that's because—,"
"That's because I am—,"
"And he confirmed it—that's because you are, but this is not a subtle look when we're sneaking into the castle past guards and the like I'm at least supposed to be there, sometimes, I did not get you back just to lose you again, brother," Lonan says, squeezing him a little.
"I'm wearing a coat," Hound says, "What else is—,"
"The hair, the earring, the coat itself, the number of weapons under it, the accent, the way you look, everything, love you so much, so glad you're home, we're gonna get you to your mother, not looking like a pirate," Lonan says, smiling encouragingly I like this guy.
"Oh," Hound frowns a little, "I suppose. But you can't send her a letter—,"
"I'm going to send something so much better and more profane than a letter," Lonan says, as a door in the house slams.
"If you're talking to more random people you adopted or who adopted you I'm not fucking talking to them—," is how this man chooses to walk in a room, looks like a knight, dark hair with flecks of grey, clean shaven, generally looks like how death would look if taking a human form. I like him already. He stops mid sentence at seeing us.
"Fucking hell," he breaths, moving up to the Hound.
"Father," Hound smiles a little, nervously, before being knocked over by the force of the man's hug.
"Fucking kid," the man says, gripping him.
"I missed you too," Hound says, tears on his face.
"Okay—okay you stay here, you don't fucking move or I'll make you go missing, I'm going to go tell his mothers he's here—," the man gets up, gripping the kid one more time, then breathing, and backing away, pointing at both of them, "You're going to fucking sit on him or whatever, don't either of you tell me why you look like you do whatever it is is worse than what I'm imagining I'm sure—,"
"Oh, I'm a pirate," Hound explains getting up.
"What happened to us happened independently; he found me," Lonan says.
"And I was happier, there it is, how long have you had him—?"
"Ten fucking minutes, calm down," Lonan sighs.
"Please, I want to see my mother," Hound sighs.
"Ha! Not like that you absolutely are not ever, Jesus Christ child—stay, stay, I'm telling your fucking mother she can stop praying you're alive and fine—,"
"I'll fill him in," Lonan says.
"—perfect, do that, I will be back, two hours or whenever she stops shaking me for details of how he is that I'm probably going to lie about get that goddamn fucking thing out of his ear to start, hell Lonan—and I will be back this is fine, fill him in, condense it, but not that much like I said, two hours, you are I'm sure a very nice person I'm —they'll tell you who I am I'm their father," then the person makes a hand gesture at me and then leaves.
"He's our father," both boys say to me because apparently they have a collective brain. Wait, that might make sense. That's why Hound is so vacant sometimes his brother was using the brain.
"He'll tell your mother you're well—come you must both be hungry it's late, we have much to discuss," Lonan sighs.
"Yeah, I know OtherFather was upset I look like a pirate, but I'm still going to be a pirate I've got go with her I'm not here for long," the Hound says, pointing at me.
"What?" Lonan asks, taking his arm again, "No, you're home now. For good, whatever we'll deal with it, you're home."
"No, it's fine, you're not—we're not leaving Hound you can stay as long as you like, forever, like it's good; we can talk about that other thing later," I sigh, slumping at the table. Could have used knowing I had all the power of the sea last time those stupid shits in the black ships with their damn red racing stripe were chasing us would have been good knowledge. Well I hadn't kissed him, but I would have.  The boy talks all the damn time think that could have come up.
"What—really?" Hound asks me.
"Really, you're good, we're good we're not gonna worry about that, talk to your brother," I put my face down on the table. My mother's going to be all happy asking who I seduced. No one. She's going to think he's some powerful warlord. No, he's sixteen like me and dumb as shit has one tiny island and I'm gonna love him forever.
"I did promise," Hound says.
"Nope, absolutely fine we are cool I will explain it all when I'm not having a stroke," I say.
"What's a stroke—okay if you're sure— I think she is fine," he says, to his brother.
"Yeah you're not leaving, we can't—you don't have to do anything we want you, Cuan, our Cuan we don't want Elisedd back, we want our Cuan. Our other father as whole speech on not endangering you in a revolution," Lonan says, getting us each a bowl of soup.
"Yeah—who is on the throne again?" Hound asks, shaking his head.
"Matuac, your cousin," Lonan says.
"Why? When our father died, the crown should have gone to me, but I was on the high seas, so if memory serves that means my Uncle Fergus," Hound asks, frowning, "What happened to him that it went to Matuac?"
"He ah—died," Lonan says, "It's actually kind of a long story."
"And?" We both say.
"Kind of long, I think I'm supposed to be doing something about your hair—,"
"Tell the story," in unison.