[NO_TRUE_PAIR] Lost and Found; Hiru/Sanga, Landre/Kir
Title: Lost and Found Fandom: Original (Against the Moon) Character/s: Sanga, Kondekir, Hiru, Landre Words: 1 603 Prompt: June 1-7; Sanga and Kir with the title ‘Lost and Found’. Notes: This started with one direction and ended in quite another. XD This is, I expect, what it is like to have children.
The scent of dust hung thickly in the hall of records; merely opening the door could not hope to disturb it. Sanga pulled the ornately carved panel closed behind him and glanced about, hoping for some sign of his lover, but Hiru had vanished into the shelves again, possibly to combat rampaging dust golems and possibly just to read, and the only fae in sight was Kondekir. Hunched forward over his desk as was his custom, long fingers splayed on the wood so that he would not risk the pages with the oil of his skin, the Air Master did not appear to notice him until he was mere steps away.
“Water Master,” he greeted absently. Sanga touched his shoulder, glanced down at the page, and when he saw nothing that he recognised, tightened his hand briefly to more fully capture Kondekir’s attention.
“I’m afraid I’ve lost something,” he said, gesturing toward the shelves with a smile. Kondekir blinked, glanced at the candles on the edges of his desk, and sighed softly.
“Late again,” he murmured, not quite apologetic. “He should not be too far, perhaps two dozen rows or so...” Sanga released his shoulder and Kondekir tugged fitfully at his scarf for a moment before returning his attention to the tome.
It was the twenty-eighth row, and Hiru did not look up when he peeked around the corner. His antennae twitched once, twice as Sanga drew closer, and he turned the scroll slightly to check his progress through it just before Sanga reached him. “Manticore etiquette,” he explained softly, rolling to his feet before Sanga could offer a hand and furling the scroll neatly. He stowed it carefully in its proper place and then smiled gently at Sanga as the sprite again offered his hand.
“Sounds fascinating,” Sanga said. Hiru’s lips twisted and he dug at the sprite’s hip lightly with his elbow.
“It is,” he agreed with more sincerity, and glanced toward Kondekir as they emerged into the foyer. “Try not to stay too late, Air Master.” The only response was a half-hearted flutter of one hand. Hiru sighed as they walked together down the wide stone halls of Aundin’s court, headed for the water quarter where Sanga’s chambers lay.
“If I go back in three hours, he will still be there,” he murmured. “It is a shame the Lady Landre is gone so often. I am sure he does not get enough rest.”
Sanga politely refrained from mentioning his suspicion that, given his head, Hiru would do precisely the same thing, and patently avoided the reason behind Landre’s frequent absences from court. It wouldn’t do to make the younger fae feel more guilty than he generally did already.
*
Initially, of course, the hall of records had been a method of protection. While the Unseelie court still eyed the newcomer with suspicion, Hiru would remain safe under the watchful eye of the Air Master when Sanga was busy conducting Aundin’s business within the court, and became Sanga’s shadow whenever he was allowed. Hiru’s own nature and Kondekir’s understated praise seemed to stifle dissenting opinions far faster than Sanga might have expected, but escort from the hall of records remained a necessity – not because Hiru was in particular danger from members of the court any longer, but because without Sanga’s gentle insistence, he, like Kondekir, might well forget to leave.
Still, Hiru appeared to be enjoying himself, working his way slowly but surely through the court histories and as many records of cultures foreign to the Seelie Court as possible. Sanga held his rapt attention for hours on one particularly lazy evening by softly singing his way through his family tree: the only true song of any water spirit.
“It’s beautiful,” the moth fae murmured. “And you trace it all the way back to Lady Aundin?”
“As can any fae,” Sanga agreed, voice loose and slightly deeper from his efforts. Hiru smiled against his neck.
“Perhaps I shall try,” he said lazily, as though the thought had not really occurred to him, and stretched sleepily against Sanga’s side. “But I doubt Master Kondekir would take kindly to my humming in the aisles.”
“You could do it here,” Sanga said, helpfully and with no hint of lasciviousness. “If I recall correctly, your people record their histories in dance.”
Hiru snorted, and bit him on the collarbone.
*
“Lady Landre isn’t here, so I must insist, Master Kondekir.” Hiru crossed his arms over his chest and frowned in a manner that reminded Sanga of the Air Master himself. “I’m not leaving until you do.”
Kondekir made a sound of disgust. “I might have known you’d turn against me,” he said sourly. “I’m not leaving until this is finished.”
“Then I’m not leaving, either,” Hiru said firmly. “So you had best find me something to do. Something helpful,” he clarified when Kondekir waved vaguely to the shelves. Sanga shook his head and bent to kiss Hiru’s brow and send a meaningful glance in Kondekir’s direction.
“Finish up fast, won’t you? I’m not missing out on anything just because your mate’s on delegation.”
He escaped, grinning, with both Kondekir and Hiru sputtering after him, secure in the knowledge that while Hiru might sacrifice a book in order to clobber him, Kondekir would never hear of it.
*
“You really ought to go,” Kondekir murmured after a while, vaguely guilty that he was keeping the moth fae from his lover, even though Hiru had professed loud displeasure from the moment Sanga had made his exit. “There’s nothing else you can help me with just yet, and there’s still a lot left to do.”
Hiru’s green eyes narrowed slightly in a slanted smile, the multi-faceted eyes making the expression slightly stranger than it needed to be. “A few hours won’t kill him,” he said, displaying for a moment the same cheek for which his lover – and Kondekir’s own mate – were known. “It would be a poor repayment of your friendship, and Lady Landre’s, if I made no attempt to maintain your own welfare after all the effort you are both going to for mine.”
Kondekir’s brow furrowed gently, and he set aside the page at last and held out one hand to draw Hiru closer, hollowed eyes searching Hiru’s for a moment. “You know that this is the Fire Master’s duty,” he said, “to visit outlying regions, and resolve grievances. I hope you are not blaming yourself because of some perception that I grow lonely, while the Water Master wishes to remain close to you.”
Hiru’s eyes were incapable of sliding sideways, but he half-lidded them evasively. “Of course not.”
Kondekir’s lips twitched. He patted the back of Hiru’s hand and turned back toward his desk, his ledger, the candles that had been so much taller when he had arrived this morning. “My mate is very impatient,” he confided softly, as though Hiru were not already aware of this fact. The look he shot over his shoulder was arch. “Perhaps you are too young to appreciate the value of anticipation.”
Hiru covered his mouth with his hand, and returned the sly expression with interest, gesturing toward the hall, toward the water quarter.
“Would I have sent him on ahead if I did not?”
*
“Don’t you have work to do?” Hiru inquired carelessly over the top of a scroll. Sanga did not move. He also did not stop staring determinedly, as though he could cause the scroll to burst into flame, or at least cause the ink to run. It might have been distracting if Hiru were not concentrating so hard on not looking distracted, and not giving into the smirk threatening to ruin his apathy as he kept his eyes moving over the text at a thoughtful pace – not reading, but not willing to admit that to the water master just yet.
“Shh,” he said. “I’m waiting for something. I want to hear it coming.”
That piqued Hiru’s interest. His antennae twitched. “Oh?” He had gotten as far as framing a disinterested reply when the heavy doors of the library slammed back on their hinges and a voice rang brash and gleeful throughout the hall.
“There you are,” Landre crowed, as if she had expected to find Kondekir anywhere else but ensconced at his desk, reading to the dim light of a circle of very short candles. “Don’t move a muscle.” Her rolling gait brought her to the head of the central aisle, and she raised a hand at Sanga and Hiru from there as she passed. The fire master’s eyes gleamed like embers.
“Welcome back, Lady Landre,” Hiru called, with a curious glance at Sanga.
“Aw,” said Landre distantly, accompanied by the breathy fwoomp of flame and a small, indistinct sound from Kondekir. “Thanks, kid. Good t’ see you.” When she came back into view, she raised a hand at them both in farewell. The other gripped Kondekir firmly by the scarf. The air master’s stride was reluctant, but there was a hint of amusement about his dark eyes that suggested this was all according to plan. “Don’t expect him for a few days, or nothin’.”
The doors slammed shut behind them, and Hiru raised his eyebrows. “I take it you heard she was on her way.”
“Music to my ears,” Sanga agreed, practically luminescent with satisfaction. “Now, would you like him to shout at you when he makes it back, or would you prefer to retire to my chambers?”
“I don’t think he’ll be capable of shouting,” Hiru pointed out, taking conscientious note of his page. “But perhaps it’s best not to chance it.”