Exileart

It was dark inside the bar, especially after he pulled the door closed behind him. Uncaring about the noise he was making, Arthur rummaged through the shelves, taking a random bottle of something he hoped was strong enough to dull the pain. 

He settled down on the floor, swallowing several mouthfuls of his most recent find–rum, a part of him noted, something cheap and awful from the lowest shelf. He could do better, but the thought of getting up so soon was not pleasing. Instead, he took another swig, waiting for the inevitable. 

It did not take long. He was never one to dally. 

“How’d you get in here, Arthur?” 

Arthur groaned and squinted at the sudden light flooding the room. Afonso stood by the light switch. He was in his nightclothes, a bat held loosely in his hand. His hair was loose and in disarray, obviously woken from sleep. Like this, the head of district 351 looked vulnerable. 

Arthur wasn’t sure why he had come to Afonso’s bar of all places. Afonso was all but retired, preferring to keep his bar and his district as neutral ground these days. It was perhaps unfair of Arthur to keep bringing him back into the thick of it, but there was no one else he trusted more. 

From where he was sitting on the floor by the bar, Arthur grinned, teeth stained bloody, and he must look a frightful mess from the way Afonso winced. “Your door was open.” 

Afonso sighed and placed the bat down on one of the tables. “It was locked.” 

Arthur shrugged and winced when it pulled on his injuries. “You need a better lock.” 

Afonso crouched before him with a frown. With gentle hands, he tilted Arthur’s face towards the light, revealing bruises and a split lip. “What happened to you?” 

“Ran into trouble,” Arthur said flippantly. 

“So nothing unusual, hm?” Afonso said with a huff, but the pinched look on his face betrayed his worry. “Can you walk? I’d rather do this upstairs than here where anyone can walk in.” 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Arthur said as he struggled to his feet with Afonso’s help. Afonso steadied him with an arm around his waist, supporting part of his weight.

“That’s what you always say,” Afonso replied with a long-suffering sigh. “Aren’t you supposed to have guards to prevent this from happening?” 

Arthur grimaced as they entered Afonso’s flat located right above his bar. He didn’t want to admit that he’d made a habit of dodging his own guards, too annoyed at the ever increasing constraints on him as District 44 rose in prominence. 

“Your recklessness will kill you one day,” Afonso warned even as he urged Arthur to sit, rummaging in his bathroom for his first aid kit. Arthur couldn’t help but feel like a misbehaving child as Afonso took care of his injuries with deft, practiced hands. After he was done, his touch lingered, hesitant as he traced the bruises on Arthur’s neck. “I wish you’d be more careful.” 

Arthur laughed, disregarding how it hurt when he did. “You were even worse back then.” 

The plastic box in Afonso’s hands was shut with a resounding click. At the same time, the look of irritation on Afonso’s face cleared, and he gave Arthur a smile. “Stay for a while,” he said, glancing at the windows, perhaps wary of Arthur’s enemies following him here. “Tea?” 

“Please,” Arthur said. He followed Afonso to the kitchen, shedding his leather jacket onto the couch. He watched Afonso move around the kitchen as he put the kettle on and laid two mugs on the counter. Arthur leaned on the kitchen bar, lacing his fingers on its smooth surface. “I wasn’t looking for trouble, you know.” 

There was just silence for a while until Afonso placed the mug of steaming hot tea in front of Arthur. “I know,” he said. He reached out, his hand hovering over the patch of gauze on Arthur’s cheek without touching. Before he could retract his hand, Arthur took hold of it, pressing it onto his cheek. Afonso sighed. “I’m glad you came to me.” 

Arthur grinned. “So am I.” 

“Good,” Afonso said. “I do, however, have to get ready to open the bar.” 

 “Ah,” Arthur looked away in embarrassment. “I suppose I did make quite a mess there, didn’t I?” 

“And you owe me a bottle of rum,” Afonso replied as he headed for his bedroom. 

Arthur found himself wandering around the flat waiting for Afonso to finish. He sat on the couch, watching the rain fall outside, absolutely pleased that he was able to get himself inside before the downpour got as bad as it was. 

“Arthur,” Afonso called out as he left his bedroom in his customary suit. His tie was still left unclipped as he braided his hair quickly. “You’ll still be here when I return, won’t you?” 

“Will you worry if I’m not?” Arthur teased. When Afonso only gave him an unimpressed stare, he sighed. “I will. I told you, I’m not looking for trouble.” Besides, it has been a while since he’s spent some time with Afonso. It was a pity it took this kind of incident, this kind of excuse, for him to come here, but he was hardly going to cut their time short.  

Afonso smiled, and he leaned forward to press a kiss onto Arthur’s forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised. “Get some rest, won’t you?” 

Arthur smirked at him, holding tightly onto the warm mug in his hand. “If you insist, love.”

“Your Majesty,” João said with a small bow as he stopped beside the table. The knight had come to the Queen’s Solar as soon as he had received the summons. 

Arthur smiled up at him. “None of that now,” the Queen of Spades said as he set down the papers in his hand. “Come play a game with me, old friend.” 

João chuckled as he took the seat across the queen. “You know, you cannot always pull me away from my duties.” Even as he said that, he was already playing the first move on the board before taking one of the tarts from the plate by Arthur’s hand. This was an old familiar dance between them. “We’re no longer children.” 

Arthur grinned at him before he made his own opening move. “Can’t I? The crown affords us with certain privileges.” 

João cradled his chin on the palm of his hand, watching Arthur with a fond smile. The queen had tossed his coat on the arm of his chair. He looked mildly annoyed at best, so whatever it was that was bothering him, it must not be too terrible. 

“And I, of course, get to enjoy those privileges, don’t I?” João teased as the game progressed between them. 

“If not you, then who else?” Arthur said, and even though his response was perfect for João’s teasing words, João could not help but think that Arthur was thinking of something else from the distant look in his eyes. 

João waited him out. Arthur would tell him what was wrong eventually, and as his ever loyal knight, João would help him. He took another tart from the plate, and his eyes roved over the board as the dessert crumbled in his mouth. Arthur was quiet, his fingers drumming on the side of the table. 

“I’m getting married,” Arthur stated, his hands suddenly going still on the table. 

João choked on a bite of his tart, coughing and hitting his chest to dislodge it from his throat. “Come again?” 

“Have a drink, why don’t you?” Arthur said, and he fixed him his cup with just the right amount of sugar and cream that João had always preferred. 

“Arthur,” João said softly. He suddenly felt unmoored, like someone had cast him adrift without warning. Whatever problem he was expecting his queen to tell him, it was not this. He did not know why it was suddenly so difficult to find the right words to say. “Married?” 

“My council insists upon it,” Arthur explained. He turned over a captured piece in his hand, running his thumb over the base of the white knight. “They’ve found someone to be King, a good lad from a good family.” 

João took a sip of his tea. Somehow, despite knowing it was his and Arthur’s favorite blend, he could not seem to taste it very well. “And? Do you like him?” 

“I’ve never even met him,” Arthur said. 

João glanced at the papers Arthur had been reading before he’d arrived. “But he’s written to you?” 

Arthur shrugged. “We’ve exchanged a few letters.” 

“And?” 

“He’s a good lad, as I’ve said. He’ll make a great king, but–” Arthur cut himself off with a scowl. On his plate, he tore apart a scone without taking a single bite. With his other hand, he continued to play with the captured knight. 

“But?” João prompted when it seemed Arthur would not say anything more. He leaned forward, his crossed arms resting upon the table. The game was already forgotten between them, but it no longer really mattered. “Is there something wrong with him?” 

“But he’s not you,” Arthur said, finally meeting his eyes when he’s refused to since declaring that he was to be married. Having known Arthur for years, João could see the moment he stubbornly set his mind to something. Arthur was so rarely so sincere and straightforward with his affections that it now caught João off guard to be faced with it. “I would only ever choose you.” 

This time, it was João who refused to meet the other’s eyes. He busied himself with his cup, pouring another serving and drinking it unsweetened. He could not help but think that they needed something stronger for this conversation, brandy or wine instead of this too bitter tea. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, blowing out a breath. 

“Say something,” Arthur prompted when João remained silent for too long. 

“What am I to say, Arthur?” João asked as he looked at his queen with a sad smile. “Such a choice is not a privilege afforded to you by the crown.” 

Arthur flinched at the echo of his words from before. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again without saying anything. 

“I will stay, of course,” João continued, “if you still wish to have me as your knight.” 

Arthur looked at him in horrified surprise as if he could not believe it was ever an option for him to leave. “Of course you will!” He exclaimed. “You weren’t actually thinking of leaving, were you?” 

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” João said, even though it had crossed his mind that the new king would not wish to have him close if he knew of the extent of his relationship with the queen. He took Arthur’s hand and brought it to his lips to kiss. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Your Majesty.”

They were right. Falling was too easy. 

Their runes protected them from the impact as they hit the water, but the cold weight of the river still wrapped around them like a cage. Arthur reached for his witchlight, and it shone between his fingers like a star in the darkness beneath the river. Gabriel reached for him, and together, they swam towards the shore. 

The two of them gasped as they heaved themselves onto dry land. When Arthur thought he had coughed out all the water in him, he collapsed on his back, glaring at the night sky above until Gabriel’s face appeared over him. 

“Why, in the angel’s name, did you jump after me!?” Gabriel asked. 

“And what was I supposed to do?” Arthur replied defensively. “Leave you to drown?” 

Gabriel looked baffled. His hair had come loose from its tie, and it dripped water onto Arthur. “And remind me again, which of us is the better swimmer?” 

Arthur groaned and pushed Gabriel away so that he could sit up without knocking their heads together. “Bloody hell, I wasn’t thinking then, was I? You could be a little more grateful about it.”

“Of course,” Gabriel said. He feigned swooning, putting his head on Arthur’s lap. He grinned up at him, playful and teasing as he pressed a palm over his heart. “My hero.”

Arthur bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. “You’re an arse,” he said. “See if I try to save you next time.” 

Gabriel chuckled at his words, and they helped each other up. Arthur could not help but hold on a little tighter to his parabatai. The fall should not have shaken him as much as it did, but the thought of losing Gabriel made Arthur feel a little sick. He would not survive it, he thought. 

Arthur felt Gabriel squeeze his shoulder. “Who else would keep you alive if I don’t?” 

“I don’t want to hear that from you,” Arthur said, playfully shoving the other as they both made their way back to the Lisbon institute, some unspoken agreement passing between them to leave their original mission for the next night. “I’m not the one who keeps rushing towards our enemies.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t, Art,” Gabriel replied with a grin. “You’d be an awful archer if you did.” 

“That’s not–oh, just shut it, would you?” 

It did not take them long to return after that, both of them hurrying so that they could get out of their drenched gear. By some miracle, they managed to avoid everyone. It was habit that made him follow Gabriel into his room, and Arthur did not think twice about it until Gabriel was peeling off his shirt, revealing the toned muscle and the sun-kissed skin covered in runes and scars underneath. 

Arthur’s mouth went dry as he looked away, very much aware of the blood rushing into his face. It was ridiculous. He had seen Gabriel naked countless times before, and it had never been a problem. He had also never been aware enough of his own attraction to his parabatai before to make it a problem. He could blame that particular problem on an ill-fated comment from someone admiring Gabriel during training last week. 

No one ever warned Arthur how easy it was to fall into temptation, how easy it was to forget all the laws that bound them both. 

“Arthur, what are you doing just standing around? You’ll get yourself sick,” Gabriel said as he gestured towards Arthur’s own wet clothing. A drop of water trailed from Gabriel’s hair down his chest as he turned to face Arthur. Arthur wanted to follow its path with his lips. 

Later, Arthur would blame his recklessness on the adrenaline, on their most recent brush with death. He would know that he was lying; they both would know, but it didn’t really matter by then. 

At that moment though, all Arthur thought was that he wanted no one else but him to claim any part of Gabriel. After feeling like he had lost his best friend earlier that night, Arthur just wanted to be a little selfish for once. 

Arthur crossed the room and pressed Gabriel’s back on the wardrobe door he was just about to open. Gabriel looked startled and just as baffled as he did when Arthur had told him he wanted to save him from drowning. Before Gabriel could question him, before Arthur could talk himself out of doing something so stupid, he kisses him. 

Arthur wasn’t certain what reaction he had been expecting from the other, but he was certain it was not what he got. Gabriel froze only for a moment before he was kissing back, with a ferocity that made Arthur think that the hunger and desperation to possess was not Arthur’s alone, that Arthur’s forbidden love might not be so unrequited after all. 

Like with everything else in their lives, they were of one heart and one mind, both of them damned. 

Gabriel gently guided him, his fingers cooler than usual as he brought them under the hem of Arthur’s shirt. He could feel familiar calluses as his fingers traced the line of Arthur’s spine. They did not stop kissing, but Arthur felt it when the back of his knees hit the edge of Gabriel’s bed. He sat and let Gabriel pull his shirt off over his head, shivering as he was suddenly exposed. 

Arthur looked up with a smile that immediately dropped at the look of horror on Gabriel’s face. Once, Gabriel had looked at the parabatai rune on Arthur’s side with a look of awe, like he could not believe they had been allowed to bond themselves so closely. Now, he looked at it in horror, like he could not believe what they had allowed themselves to ruin. 

Once, Arthur had thought himself so clever when he had proposed becoming Gabriel’s parabatai. It would bind themselves forever as brothers in arms, and he could not imagine spending forever with anyone but Gabriel. The best Shadowhunters in their histories had parabatais, he had thought, and he had so many plans for them to be the best pair of them all. 

Back then, he had chosen to ignore that many stories of parabatai pairs were also the greatest tragedies of their people. That wouldn’t be them obviously. They would be smarter than that. 

Looking at Gabriel’s shaken expression, Arthur felt like the biggest of fools. “Gabe–” 

“What were you thinking?” Gabriel asked desperately, a strange echo of his sentiments after their stint in the river. “Why did you kiss me? If this is some joke, Art–” 

“It’s not,” Arthur said, even though it would be so much easier to pretend that it was. “And you kissed me back. Don’t pretend that you didn’t. This is not just–” 

“It cannot be anything at all!” Gabriel exclaimed. “You know that, right?” 

Arthur wrapped his arms around himself, almost as if he was trying to cover the parabatai rune. “So, what, we just pretend that nothing happened?” 

“What else are we supposed to do?” 

They could run, maybe let themselves be stripped of their runes and be exiled from the Clave, but Arthur knew even before speaking that Gabriel would never go for it. “I lo–” 

“Don’t,” Gabriel said, his voice soft and wavering, “please, do not say those words.” He grabbed Arthur’s shoulders in a painful grip. “Promise me, Arthur. Don’t take this any further.” 

Arthur flinched, though he did not know if it was because of Gabriel’s grip or the feeling of rejection. Was it really rejection though when Arthur knew that Gabriel would not be acting so defensively like this if he did not feel the same way? “Don’t be a coward,” Arthur said with a sneer. “It does not suit you.” 

“I don’t care about that,” Gabriel said as he loosened his grip. He sat beside Arthur, but there was a gap between them where there was always none before. Before the kiss. Before Arthur ruined one of the best things in his life. “I just don’t want to lose another home, Art. I cannot leave my brother. If that is cowardice, then let me be the worst coward of them all.” 

Arthur thought of Madrid then, of Gabriel losing both his parents at once. He cringed at his own thoughtlessness and buried his face between his hands. By the time he had uncovered his face, he had made his decision. There was no power, divine or infernal, that would make him betray Gabriel. He sighed before he stood up from the bed, picking up his discarded shirt from the floor. 

“Arthur?” Gabriel’s voice cracked, and when Arthur turned towards him, there was a wet sheen over his eyes. 

Arthur gave him a sad smile, and he bent down to press their foreheads together, something familiar and comforting for both of them. “I promise, Gabriel,” he said softly, as he brushed a thumb over his parabatai’s cheek to catch a falling tear. “I swear by the angel, no one will know about this. This stays between us, I promise.” 

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said. 

Arthur stepped back. It felt like temptation being so close. He wanted to kiss him again, wanted to press Gabriel down on the bed and leave marks on him that had nothing to do with runes. He did not want Gabriel to apologize for wanting this as much as he did. He wanted Gabriel to choose him over the Clave and their duties, but that was a selfish thing to ask for. 

“Then, I’ll just, well,” Arthur said, swallowing down the pleas and declarations of love. He gripped his wet shirt tightly in his fist. “I’ll go get changed in my room.” 

“Yes,” Gabriel agreed. He did not meet Arthur’s eyes, staring instead at the first rune he’d ever been marked with at the back of his head. His mother had been the one to give him that first mark, Arthur remembered. “Good night, Arthur.” 

Once he was in his room, just across the hall, Arthur pressed his back on the door, knocking his head back on the wood. The descent into hell is easy, he thought. Falling in love was a little harder. He was damned either way.

Antonio yelped and covered his forehead with his hands.

“You’re distracted,” Gabriel said with a huff. “What would you have done if you were out on the field like that?”

Antonio scowled before crouching to pick up his practice weapon. “We’re just practicing, aren’t we?” He asked with a sigh. “No need to be so serious about it.”

“It’s a bad habit to take up,” Gabriel pointed out as he moved to the side of the training room. He tossed one water bottle to his brother, who caught it easily, before drinking his own. Antonio seemed to hesitate before he moved to follow.

Gabriel watched his younger brother twist and turn the bottle in his hands before setting it aside and crossing his arms over his chest. “What is it like having a parabatai?” Antonio finally asked, looking up at him with a slight frown.

Gabriel tensed, his grip growing tighter around the bottle in his hand. He thought of Arthur then—that damnable smirk, that terrible, unspoken thing between them. He took another swig of his drink, swallowing heavily as he thought of what to say to his brother.

“Why?” He finally asked as he placed the drink on the bench. He stood over Antonio, watching the earnest look on his face. He wondered what his brother would say if he knew that Gabriel had broken one of the oldest laws of the Nephilim. What would Antonio think if he knew Gabriel was in love with his parabatai? “Do you plan on saying the oath? With who?”

Antonio idly traced the black lines of the runes on his arms. “With Lovino, I hoped–” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “He asked me to, and you know, this is the last year I could make that oath.”

“Are you certain?” Gabriel asked. “You cannot undo the bond once it is done. Otherwise, you might come to…regret it eventually.”

“Regret it?” Antonio narrowed his eyes at him. “How is it between you and Arthur? Is everything fine? Do you regret it?”

Becoming Arthur’s parabatai was his greatest regret, yet it was still one of the best things that’s ever happened to him. There was a part of him that was certain it was the only reason he survived in the aftermath of his family’s tragedy. Even now, he cannot say if he would have chosen differently back then had he known he would fall in love with his best friend.

“There is no one else I would trust at my back but Arthur,” Gabriel said with a chuckle as he ruffled his brother. “Especially if you’ll continue to be distracted like this.”

“Hey!” Antonio protested, trying to swat Gabriel’s hand away.

Gabriel pushed Antonio’s hair from his forehead, lightly touching the red mark from the stave with his thumb. “You might need some ice for this,” he said with a sigh. “Next time, focus on the fight.”

“You didn’t really help me with my problem,” Antonio complained.

“It’s not really for me to decide, Toninho,” Gabriel said as he stepped back, moving to collect the staves and clean up.

“But what if I regret it later, like you said?” Antonio asked. “We’re not like you and Arthur.”

Gabriel laughed. “You don’t have to be like me and Arthur,” he said. The secret was at the tip of his tongue, and there was a part of him that wanted to share it with his brother, to let Antonio know that if he wanted a parabatai, it would be best if his bond was nothing like what Gabriel felt for Arthur.

Antonio makes a noise of frustration. “If I do it, will you stand as my witness?”