THAT'S for everything else

He let a quiet snort of laughter from his nose and raised a shoulder. He’d never though himself dramatic but perhaps he was. As much as he claimed to dislike drama he seemed to attract it, if not create it. “I forgot your mind was filth,” he replied, tone light as a smile pressed into the corner of his mouth.

The sound of his laughter and sight of his smile was surprising, but not the least bit unwelcome.  Whatever it was he had figured out, it clearly had put him in a good mood, and she was more than willing to enjoy it, no questions asked.  Besides, Arthur was a reasonable man.  Surely whatever conclusion he’d come to was a good one.  “Oh you love it,” she retorted, shooting him a wink before snagging one of the beers.  “I’m glad we can joke like this.  It’s more fun when there’s less malice involved.”

“One does what one can,” he said, which wasn’t an answer at all. Unless he was actively on a hunt, detached boredom was Piers’s natural state. He’d learned to live for the small challenges presented by his work, if only because the search for Westley promised greater returns. His smile widened in genuine amusement for a moment. “I certainly do,” he agreed. “The well-intentioned ones are sometimes the worst of the lot.” Very bad things sometimes came from good intentions, after all. It was perhaps why he didn’t bother with them.

“Right,” she nodded, sort of in agreement but partially because she wasn’t too sure how to respond.  It wasn’t like he’d given a real answer.  In fact, she felt like she was revealing more about herself than he was about himself, causing her to feel slightly vulnerable.  “I don’t know about that.  What makes you say so?” she mused.  In her experience, there was a significant difference between accidentally doing harm and actively trying to hurt someone.  Most of the time, the former hurt a lot less and could be fixed much quicker.  The latter, on the other hand, was the kind that left a scar, either physical or mental.

Arthur shook his head. He’d spent so much time dealing with other people’s problems, with wars, with councils, communicating and forming treaties and even now he could hardly suffer someone else a moment of his own misery. It was his own doing, after all, and the less people knew the less it mattered. “No more than it every has. My past has haunted me from the moment I set foot on this land, I should hardly expect anything less. But either way, it is trivial,” he said, brushing off the thought with a rattle of the case in his fingers. “I am here to celebrate.”

“You sound like you’re being dramatic, which isn’t exactly unlike you, but I didn’t realize your past still weighed so heavily on you,” she admitted, frowning slightly.  However, since he seemed to be insistent on moving on from that, the rattle of the beers a reminder of his reason for being there, she decided to let it go.  “Are you really sure you want to risk it?  I know Aria’s been asking for a brother or sister, but we don’t actually have to give her one,” she joked.

“I’m afraid I’ve yet to meet a true challenge here,” he chuckled. The honest answer was locating Westley, but that wasn’t information to give away freely. “And I answered you,” he pointed out, not losing his smile. “I suppose that would be important. You can’t count on the meager police force here for everything.” There was a trace of disdain in the words, which was only a fraction of what he actually felt. Piers simultaneously considered the Fableton police department both wildly inept and entirely too meddlesome.

“Really?  I hope that hasn’t made your work dull,” she mused.  After all, he had said he loved a challenge.  If he wasn’t being challenged, did that mean he wasn’t enjoying his job?  “They try their best, but it’s not like they can be everywhere.  This town’s full of all sorts of people, and not all of them are good.  Better to know how to defend yourself than leave it to chance that every person you come across had good intentions,” she pointed out.  “I’m sure you know that better than anyone.”

“Glad to hear something good came of it,” he said smoothly. She was wildly oversharing, but that was precisely why he spent time in these places. “Completing background checks and tracking cheating spouses is fairly dull. But I do love a challenge.” Occasionally, a case cropped up that actually caught his interest, even if the majority of them were terribly mundane even for magical people. “Do you?“

“Something good indeed,” she nodded.  Her daughter really was the light of her life, and while she came into the world by unconventional means, that didn’t change how much she loved her.  “What has been the most challenging case you’ve completed?  Or is that confidential?” she wondered, curious about a man in his position.  “I asked you first,” she joked, giving him a look before laughing and answering him.  “I do.  I have always felt like my fighting skills could do a lot of good.  There aren’t nearly as many threats in this town as there were back home, but teaching people to defend themselves and helping people get fit put those skills to use.”

Arthur shrugged and shook his head, as though it was of little consequence. Somewhere in the weeks spent avoiding ways to alert her of his struggle, he’d forgotten he’d barely mentioned the thought in her presence - fearful perhaps, that she’d take the girl away from him. Though now, it didn’t really matter anyway. “The misfortune, I suppose,” he answered finally, as he stepped into the space, suddenly conscious that it was no longer Astrid alone who lived there. “It has stalked me for as long as I have been here and I think I know how to break the cycle.”

“Misfortune?” she repeated, brows furrowing as her eyes followed him.  She knew that Arthur had always been a grump, but she wasn’t sure she knew what ‘misfortune’ he was talking about.  “’Break the cycle’?  Arthur, I’m not following anything you’re saying right now,” she admitted, crossing her arms over her chest.  “Did something happen that I don’t know about?  A few somethings?  I didn’t think you were having a hard time...”

“When drinking is involved? Certainly.” Piers would have considered any pregnancy an accident, but he wasn’t the paternal sort. Then again, once he had his kingdom back, he might want an heir. “It’s fairly steady. Many of the people here don’t feel comfortable going to law enforcement with their problems.” Particularly if those problems were magical in nature, but he felt that went without saying. He happened to know that most of the local police weren’t local either, but he didn’t feel the need to share that with people who came to him for help.

“The biggest problem was, while there are types of protection against pregnancy in this world, the father of my child had not yet been versed in this and therefore did not think about it in the state we were in,” she explained, shrugging a shoulder.  “At least we were lucky to have such an amazing little girl,” she added, her smile growing as she thought about Aria.  “I can imagine, especially knowing what kind of people are in town and the problems they must have,” she nodded.  He was probably kept decently busy, now that she thought about it.  “Do you enjoy your job?”

Arthur had never been gifted with Sight. Not like Merlin was. Not like the druid priests were. Granted, he could predict, he could guess, he could learn from the mistakes of the past and build on them. But there were never strikes of sudden, holy awareness that turned the tables. Not like they sang in the songs, at least. The closest he’d come had been on a grey afternoon, by a crooked river as he stared into the dark brown eyes of his nephew and realised that he could only defeat him by sacrificing his own life in the process.

And too, he supposed, on a summer’s morning, staring into the matte white of the ceiling and realising he’d never finished his tale.

He’d left later that day with a slight spring in his step, grabbing a few beers and taking them with him to share a moment of happiness with friend. For the darkness would end and Aria, bless her sweet soul, would get a father she deserved. “I think,” he smiled softly, hardly waiting for the door to open before he held out a bottle, “I have worked out how to break my curse. A toast?”

Aria was down for her nap, giving Astrid some much needed quiet time to herself.  She was folding some laundry when there was a knock on the door, and she made her way over, surprised by the face and beer that greeted her.  “I’m sorry, what?” she muttered, shaking her head slightly.  She stepped back, holding the door open and gesturing for him to enter before taking the beer he had held out to her.  “Did you just say curse?  What are you talking about?” she asked, giving him a befuddled look.