Work Text:
“Gaius, go travel to an outrealm and check on the brats,” Gaius said, voice pitched high. “No, I can’t send anyone else to do it, because all the other Shepherds are as subtle as a fireball launched from another, angrier fireball.”
He trudged through the alleyway of a foreign city, off on yet another errand for the crazed dragon he refused to call anything other than Bubbles. What Blue saw in her, he would never know; Gaius spent every second he was forced to be around her mildly terrified. Part of the reason he hadn’t complained–well, complained where anyone could see–when she had sent him on this errand was because it would take him as far away from her as possible. Oh, yes, he’d be delighted to go to a potentially hostile outrealm to chase down three brats with no self-preservation whatsoever. He sighed; at least the pay was good.
It took him a week or so to find any leads, even with the tracking spell his wife had provided. Inigo, Owain, and Severa were using different names, and had each wound up as a retainer to one of the local royals, which he couldn’t wait to see; the brats were all utter lunatics, and Owain especially. Unfortunately, retainers to royals lived with the royals in the big, creepy castle, and Nohrian royals had proven to be tremendously paranoid. The castle was warded up to the gills, filled with nasty little hexes that could turn a would-be thief into a glob of smoking meat, or turn all their blood into bugs, or something else equally horrible. This was on top of the stupidly high amount of guards patrolling the castle grounds.
And Gaius had to break into the damned thing.
“Think of the gold,” he muttered to himself. “Think of the gold, and all of the things the gold will buy, and how happy your wife and son will be when you bring them back a bunch of spells from this creepy-ass outrealm.” Perhaps Miriel would make some of those wonderful enchanted gingersnaps.
Or perhaps the damned castle would eat him.
The castle loomed overhead, all towers and spires and battlements, and despite himself Gaius felt a perverse thrill at the thought of breaking in. The walls were covered in enchanted, razor-sharp spines, and the windows were well out of reach. He could throw a grappling hook, but the spines would shred the rope, and if he tried to climb it free-hand then they’d shred his palms, instead.
He chuckled. This would be fun.
He slipped on a special pair of gloves, then strapped a similar contraption over the toe and heel of his boots. The devices were a gift from his wife; he had fallen from the third floor of a mansion, and she had spent several sleepless nights creating them. They had odd patterns, like the feet of a lizard, and made climbing a hell of a lot easier; Miriel had also given them more enchantments than he could count. He wasn’t sure he even could fall with them on unless he deliberately jumped off of the wall.
Carefully, gingerly, he ascended. He moved slowly, placing his fingertips in the tiny spaces between the spines, marveling at how the gloves acted as their own handholds. His feet were placed with less care; he could waltz on a field of burning knives and his boots would be fine. Gods, he loved his wife.
After a half-hour that had decided it would much rather be a day or two, he reached a window, and it was just his luck that the damned thing wouldn’t open. He debated just breaking the thing, then decided he rather liked having all his blood on the inside and would find another way in. After another ten minutes that were also entirely too long, he came across another window.
It was locked.
At the fifth window, Gaius finally had a way in. He entered a pitch-dark library, assaulted by the smell of musty books and the faint thrum of magic. He pulled a set of goggles out of his pocket and put them on, and the room suddenly appeared bright as day. These, surprisingly, were his own invention, and did little other than let him see in the dark. Doubtless if his wife had made them they’d also let him see heat, or something equally ludicrous.
Gods, he loved his wife.
He crept through the library, wary of creaky floorboards and angry hexes, and poked his head out into the hallway. He heard chatter coming from a few different rooms, and from the contents of it he realized he was on the floor where the royals lived. He pressed his ear to a door, heard nothing of value, and moved on. He repeated this until he heard a voice he’d recognize anywhere.
“Behold, lord Leo!” Owain shouted. “My quest into the wavering dark has borne fruit, and I have returned with the drops of gleaming moonlight!”
“Very well,” came a curt reply. “Dismissed.”
Footsteps rapidly approached the door, and Gaius clambered up the wall, then clung to the ceiling. Humans rarely looked up, and the swooping architecture left plenty of shadows to hide in. Moments later, the door opened and Owain strode out, closing it with a faint click.
And then Owain looked up, the dastard. Gaius held a finger to his lips, hoping Owain wouldn’t say anything.
Owain, of course, said something.
“What in all the penumbral hells?” He blurted. He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Uncle Gaius?”
“Is everything alright, Odin?” The voice from earlier shouted through the door.
“Indeed, milord!” Owain-slash-Odin replied. “Mine tenebrous sight has merely glimpsed beyond this mortal realm!”
A muffled voice quietly called him an idiot.
“…come with me,” Owain said softly. “I’ll take you somewhere safe, and then fetch the others.”
When the three of them were standing before him in the library, Gaius popped a candy into his mouth.
“So,” he said, “why’d ya skip town?”
“We received a sacred quest from an ancient dragon,” Owain-slash-Odin said. “How could legendary heroes such as ourselves refuse?”
“Odin’s an idiot and we couldn’t leave him alone,” Severa-slash-Selena said.
“I wish we could tell you more,” Inigo-slash-Laslow said. “But we can’t. Too dangerous.”
“You’ll be back when you’re done?” Gaius asked. “Your families are worried about you.”
They nodded.
“Don’t forget to write,” Gaius said, then climbed out the window.
“You just left?” Bubbles said incredulously.
“They said they’ll be back,” Gaius said, waving off the question. “They said they couldn’t talk about it, so I didn’t push.” He shrugged. “They can write, and we know where they are, and they ain’t comin’ back until they’re done. What do you want me to do, kidnap ‘em?”
“Yes,” Bubbles snapped. “You bring back my godsdamned nephew right now, Gaius.”
“No.” He popped a candy into his mouth. “They’re adults, Bubbles. They can do what they damn well please.”
A trio of letters arrived later that day, promising the three brats would return as soon as they were done. Gaius resisted the urge to say ‘I told you so’ for all of five minutes.
“Wouldya look at that,” he said. “Maybe you should listen to your spymaster after all, Bubbles. Perhaps reward him for a job well done? You know, there’s this imported honey—”
“Deliver the letters to their families,” Bubbles said. “From now on, you are the Shepherds’ official interrealm courier, and if I hear any complaints I am picking a lake and throwing you in it.” She smirked. “Be sure to tell their families how persuasive you were.”