#riagan

Some portraits of some of the boys

Fourteen months, thirty-two chapters, and 104,077 words later, @ocsickficsideblog and I have finally finished this massive atrocity. Going into it, know that it was started in Fall 2018, which is also when it is set. It does deal with some pretty dark topics, including some mental health stuff, so be warned. I’m genuinely so grateful to anyone who’s still interested in my work at this point, since I’ve been super lacking in content lately. I’ve been most inspired for Kit, but I didn’t feel like I could post content for him until I finished this. So hopefully, I’ll have more Kit one-offs coming in the future. Here’s all the chapters, in order, to make reading a bit easier. 

Preface , Ch. 1 , Ch. 2

Ch. 3 , Ch. 4 , Ch. 5

Ch. 6 , Ch. 7 , Ch. 8

Ch. 9 , Ch. 10 , Ch. 11

Ch. 12 , Ch. 13 , Ch. 14

Ch. 15 , Ch. 16 , Ch. 17

Ch. 18 , Ch. 19 , Ch. 20

Ch. 21 , Ch. 22 , Ch. 23

Ch. 24 , Ch. 25 , Ch. 26

Ch. 27 , Ch. 28 , Ch. 29

An exercise I did in drawing more stylized characters, feat @ocsickficsideblog​‘s Alistair and @sickandvomiting‘s Blues Group. 

Everyone is (roughly) to scale height-wise, and for some perspective in each row, Kit is 5′10″, Siofra is 5′8″, Jace is 6′5″, and Elizabeth is 5′0″. 

written with @ocsickficsideblog​

----------

----------

----------

Kit was still snoring spectacularly when the smell of pancakes came wafting through the house. The kitchen was bustling with hungry redheads, all elbowing each other for the first plate. Surprisingly, it wasn't a desire for food that woke Alistair. Siofra had accidentally left the door ajar when she went to get breakfast, and Finny took the invitation, leaping onto the bed and snuffling the boys. Alistair squealed under the mound of dog on his head, then spluttered with laugher. “Finny! You scared me to death.”

Finny boofed cheerfully in response, shoving his nose under the blankets to give Alistair's face a lick. Kit was scrambling around in his heap of blankets, woken by the commotion.

“It’s okay, Kit, it’s just Finny,” Alistair said, trying to sit up. “Happy Boxing Day.”

"Happier if I wasn't being assaulted in my sleep." Kit grumbled. Finny boofed and licked him as well. Kit shrieked.

Alistair laughed. “He just licked you, Kit!”

"I know! It's disgusting! Now I smell like dog!" Kit wailed. Siofra's head popped in the door, her hair frizzy from sleeping.

"Who's gettin' murdered in here?"

“Kit’s being licked to death,” Alistair said.

"Get off 'im, then." Siofra laughed. She let Kit squirm under Finny a moment longer before yelling "Oi! Get down." The dog hopped off the bed at once, cheerfully wagging his tail. Kit popped out of the blankets, red-faced and horrified.

"I've been defiled."

"Ain't the first time. Shower's open, if ye want it." Siofra offered. Kit nodded, and she went off to find him a fresh towel.

“I wish you two wouldn’t say gross shit in front of me,” Alistair sighed.

"And I wish you wouldn't lick your fingers when you eat something sticky." Kit replied, climbing out of bed to search through his luggage for a change of clothes.

“What else am I supposed to do with them?”

"Wipe them on a napkin! Wash them! Anything else!" Kit cried, thumbing between several pairs of sleek, dark jeans. He'd set out a sweater already, navy-blue cashmere with accented stitching around the collar. Eventually, he settled on the charcoal jeans, grabbing a pair of blue-black socks to finish it off. "I'm going to shower. Don't let the dog follow me."

Finny boofed at Alistair, wagging his tail. Alistair shook his head. “I appreciate you, Finny.” Finny hopped back onto the bed, climbing onto Alistair's chest to lick his face. Siofra peeked in a moment later, having thrown a stack of towels at Kit.

"Oi, you comin' to break — dammit, Finny, I toldja get off!"

Finny whined dramatically, turning to give Siofra a sad look. Alistair grinned. “Come on, Finny, I’ll feed you a bit of breakfast,” he whispered.

The dog jumped off the bed at once, trotting to the kitchen with Alistair in tow. Siofra shook her head, closing the door behind them to get dressed. "Idiots."

Gran was still in the kitchen, a massive bowl of pancake batter slowly depleting beside the stove. Riagán and Mr. Rafferty were sitting at the table eating, while Cillian waited for her to finish piling his second plate. She didn't hear Alistair come in, but she felt Finny nosing her side in search of food.

"Well, hello there, mister. I'm afraid these aren't for you," said Gran. Finny whined dramatically, but she just shook her head. "Try someone more gullible, dear." Finny quickly turned to look at Alistair again. Cillian snorted. Even Alistair smiled, putting a finger to his lips conspiratorially in Finny's direction. Now Gran followed Finny's gaze. "Mr. Heathen! Were ye plannin' to say good mornin', or didja just wanna stand there all day?"

“Um. Morning?” Alistair went red. His own family had never greeted each other kindly, morning or otherwise.

Gran laughed. “I ain’t gonna bite, I just wanted a hello. Ye want some pancakes?” She asked, gesturing with the pan as she flipped a cake.

“Yes please.”

“Alright, hang on.” Gran hip-checked Cillian out of the way, grabbing a fresh plate to stack pancakes on. He cried out in protest.

“Gran! I’ve been waitin’!”

“For yer seconds. Be patient, fat-arse, you’ve already outgrown the poor lad.” Gran said, dropping a pancake on the plate and pouring a fresh one. Once it was cooking peacefully in the pan, she turned to Alistair. “Help yerself to a drink while ya wait. I’ve got tea, coffee, milk.” She gestured towards the fridge with her spatula. Alistair got a coffee, going to sit at the table. He still wasn’t completely comfortable talking to all Siofra’s lively family.

Riagan and Mr. Rafferty looked up from their plates, nodding at him. It was Riagan who spoke first, since he knew Alistair better. “Ye ever call your boyfriend, or didja just talk about it an’ forget?” He asked.

“I called him after Kit went to sleep.”

“He doin’ alright?” Riagan asked. He wasn’t super familiar with Julius, but it was hard to hate someone who was basically an anthropomorphic lamb.

“Yeah… His family all love each other and everything. He actually likes going home,” Alistair said. He sighed. “Miss him though.”

“Gay.” Riagan grinned, taking another bite of his pancakes. Gran thumped him.

“If yer gonna take the piss out’o someone, at least be creative.”

“It’s alright, it was an accurate statement,” Alistair said.

Gran chuckled and shook her head. "I'll never understand you children. But at least I know how to feed ya." She offered Alistair a towering plate of pancakes. "Syrup's on the table."

He took it and poured a liberal amount, glad Kit wasn’t around yet to tell him how gross all that sweet stuff was. It still looked like a snack compared to the portions Siofra’s brothers were eating. A cold, wet nose brushed up against his leg, and Finny boofed, having been promised a snack. Alistair slipped him a pancake under the table, looking around for someone with bacon. He’d have to quickly pinch a streak, since Siofra knew he didn’t eat meat. Finny happily scarfed the pancake. There was a plate of bacon in the middle of the table, next to a heap of scrambled eggs. Alistair waited until everyone seemed distracted by their own plates, then hastily grabbed a couple of rashers and dropped them on the floor for Finny. The dog was crunching happily when his owner walked in.

"Oi, what'd I miss?" Siofra asked, grabbing a coffee and dropping down next to Alistair.

"Nothing interesting, I'm afraid." Gran said. "Where's yer lovely date got off to? Still asleep?"

“He was in the shower when I left,” Alistair said.

"Finny licked 'im." Siofra grinned, "'e was shriekin' like I beat 'im with a bag'o bubonic plague."

“He’s always been like that with animals. On the island he used to run away screaming when I caught lizards to show him,” Alistair said.

Riagán snorted. "How big were they?"

“Small enough for a fat five year old to catch them and carry them around.”

Now both brothers were cackling. "Don't he have dragon tattoos?" Cillian asked.

"Yep." Siofra laughed, "Not scared'o needles or giant monsters, but a lil salamander? Lord save 'im."

“Anything small, really. Including children,” Alistair said.

"I don't like children because they're messy and loud. Though based on that, it's a miracle I like you," came Kit's voice from down the hall. "By the way," he continued, "it's rude to talk about people when they're not around."

"Sorry! Thought ye were busy bein' a germaphobe!" Siofra called back.

"I'm done showering. Just brushing my hair now." Kit's usual hour-long shower had been interrupted by the freezing reality of a small water heater tank.

"Oh, so we'll see ye next year then?" Siofra asked.

"You'll see me never with that attitude!" Kit said, hoping she couldn't hear his muffled laugh.

“It’ll be way longer than next year. Practically next Christmas,” Alistair said.

"Very funny, Al! I keep my hair nice, so it doesn't take nearly as long to brush as yours." Kit quipped back.

“I don’t brush mine.”

"Is that why ya look so shitty?" Siofra asked, grinning.

“Partly. The rest is my face,” Alistair said, deadpan.

"Maybe that's why Julie likes ya. He's too short to have a good view of either." Riagán offered.

“He’s just very very good at liking ugly shit if it’s on me. He’s very tolerant of it.”

"It's truly a miracle you found him." Kit said, finally coming to sit at the table with everyone. He had no interest in pancakes, or bacon for that matter, but he grabbed a mug of tea before sitting down. He saw Alistair once when he was grabbing bacon for Finny, and Alistair made eyes at him not to tell anyone. Kit just rolled his eyes and went back to stirring his tea. "Do you all do anything special on Boxing Day?" He asked.

"Not really." Siofra shrugged. "Sometimes if we're feelin' nice, we'll go help neighbours shovel snow, but… I don't feel that nice today. We'll probably just go down to the park in a bit, walk Finny, go sledgin'."

"Ah. Fun." Kit forced a smile, but he couldn't have been less excited.

Alistair snorted. “If you’re looking for a way to dispose of Kit, there’s plenty of quicker ways than hypothermia.”

"Well, I figured ‘e'd wear a jacket… or ten." Siofra shrugged. "I have some extras he can put over top if need be."

Kit tried to smile gratefully, but he was really grimacing.

“He’s really not a fan of the cold…”

"Well I know that. What would ya rather do, then, Ice Princess?" Siofra asked.

Kit ducked his head sheepishly. "I don't want to interrupt your plans. If I don't go, I'll help Al set up his new tablet -" Siofra snorted, and Kit amended, "keep him company while he sets it up."

"Maybe he wants to go sledgin' with Finny." Siofra challenged, her tone light and teasing.

"Then I'll just stay here and become your grandmother's new favourite." Kit teased back.

"You're already in the runnin’," Gran piped up, setting the last of the pancakes on the center of the table. She'd finally run out of batter and was sitting down with a cup of tea.

“I’d go. I haven’t been sledding since…” He paused. “I don’t even know. Since I was like, five.”

"Really?" Even Kit looked surprised. "Julie never wanted to go?"

“It’s never really snowed when we’ve been visiting his family, I know he’s gone before. There’s nowhere to sled in the city,” he said. “Plus I worry about him out in the cold for a long time. He starts coughing a lot.”

"Ah, that's fair. I haven't been sledding since hypothermia. I took Elle skating a few times, though." Kit mused.

"Elle? Is that the guy who booted ye just before we met?" Siofra asked.

"Yeah…" Kit said, grinning sheepishly.

"Who would ever dump you?" Gran cried incredulously.

"Oh, he… he was right to do it. I was being a pretty lousy boyfriend." Kit replied hastily.

"Oh, I doubt that. You're such a charmin’ young man!"

Siofra kicked lightly at her grandmother under the table, muttering in Gaelic, "Stuff it Gran. It was a mess and he's probably still upset."

Gran begrudgingly quieted down, while Kit just sipped his tea, realizing he'd never told Siofra he knew Gaelic. He glanced over at Alistair, suddenly unsure if he'd told his cousin either. Alistair winked at him, grinning. He knew alright. Kit smiled back over his mug, taking another sip before saying, "If you all really want to go, I suppose I could climb inside a taxidermied polar bear and brave the weather."

“Imagine if you did. All the other people sledding would shit their pants,” Alistair snorted. “Remember when we went around your father’s house putting sandwiches in the mouths of all his taxidermied animals?” By “we” Alistair really meant himself, Kit had just been present (and begging him to stop the whole time).

"I remember." Kit sighed. "They didn't find all the sandwiches right away, and Father was rioting for a week because the house smelled like mayonnaise."

“I’m still pretty proud of that,” Alistair admitted.

"Of course you are." Kit rolled his eyes, looking over at Siofra as she stood up from the table and gathered empty plates. He took his empty mug to the sink himself, following along after her. "Are we… intruding? I feel like this should be a thing for your family and Al and I are interrupting."

"Well, if it were a thing for my family, there'd be near thirty more people here. My dad's brother has five kids, and my mum had five siblings, and most'o them have kids, and almost half'o those kids have kids. We just like to see Gran when we get a chance. If ye were intrudin', ye wouldn't'a been invited in the first place." She shrugged, taking the mug from him to wash in the sink with the plates. "Go start puttin' sweaters on. I'm sure I'll be done before ya."

"I don't need that many sweaters…" Kit mumbled, but he hurried away nonetheless. The necklace Alistair had given him was sitting under his current sweater — he wondered if it would be safe. The chain felt so fragile, he was afraid tumbling down a hill could snap it.

Alistair followed him, nudging his cousin. “Irish family, huh? All those siblings and kids.”

"I mean, mum's family was pretty big up until her generation. And Grandfather had like seven siblings." Kit pointed out. He dug through his bags, pulling out several sweaters. "Do you think my necklace will be safe or should I take it off?"

“It’ll probably be okay under your million layers. Sledging isn’t much of an extreme sport. Or at least it wasn’t last time I did it,” Alistair said. He paused. “Seven siblings? I thought it was five! Which two am I missing..?”

"Catherine and Bernard." Kit replied without hesitation. They'd had this conversation quite a few times.

“Oh yeah, those two. Catherine was that one who used to give me cough sweets and call it candy. Why do weird old people do that?”

"I think that was candy by their standards. The olden days didn't have a lot of sweet flavouring." Kit shrugged. "Help me with this sweater?"

Alistair pulled it over Kit’s head. “Don’t know why you have maids when you’ve got me, you know.”

"The maids know how to clean. But they're not here." Kit shrugged, smoothing out his new layer before handing Alistair another sweater.

“I can clean,” Alistair said, pulling the new sweater on too. “Just not obsessively.”

"Mnn, you say that, but I've seen you with chocolate on your face hours after you last ate." Kit countered, looking in the mirror at his last sweater. He still wasn't as wide at the waist as Alistair, but he no longer looked like a skeleton with so many layers.

“I was only little!” Alistair nudged him gently. “You’ve probably put on thirty pounds with those coats.”

"More like ten. I don't think I'd be able to stand if it were thirty." Kit laughed, pulling out several thick coats from another suitcase. He laid them on the bed in order of how he'd put them on, reaching back in the suitcase for a long cashmere scarf, a luxurious dark-furred ushanka hat, and equally well-lined leather gloves. He wrapped the scarf snugly round his neck before beginning to layer on coats.

“How have you never been mugged?” Alistair sighed. “You’re exactly the type of person they’d target.”

"I don't go where people get mugged." Kit replied flatly. "Help me button my coat?" He asked. He'd tucked his gloves into the sleeves of the last one, but now he wasn't nimble enough to button. Alistair rolled his eyes and helped him.

“You’re like one of my kids.”

"Are you working with children already in your training?" Kit looked surprised, then felt like an ass for not knowing.

“Not as much as I’d like, and not care kids yet. We mostly just help out at holiday camps and classrooms. But it’s still great fun,” Alistair said.

Kit shook his head. "I can't imagine doing that voluntarily, much less enjoying it." He smoothed his outermost coat. "You need to put on a coat, too. Did you pack something warm?"

“Of course I did.” He pulled on his own coat, which was a good deal cheaper and shabbier than Kit’s, as usual.  

Siofra came into the room as Alistair was putting on his jacket. She took on look at Kit, who was twice as broad as usual with layers of coats swallowing him, and burst out laughing. "Fuckin' hell! Are ye on yer way to Moscow?"

"Ew, no. There are better places in Russia to visit. And better places to visit than Russia." Kit replied.

Siofra rolled her eyes, muttering about jet-setting posh boys as she took off her t-shirt, throwing it in Kit's face. She grabbed a sweater from her bag, pulling that on and digging through a haphazardly packed heap of clothes in search of a proper coat. Kit struggled to get her shirt off his face, as his many layers made it hard to fully bend his arms. Siofra looked up when he made a frustrated noise, only to howl with laughter again. Alistair joined in too. “You look a little kid in a snowsuit!”

"I just don't want to get cold!" Kit cried indignantly. Even he couldn't help starting to laugh at the absurdity as he fruitlessly struggled to bend his elbows enough to grab the shirt. He gave up flailing before long. "Sheef, please. Help."

Siofra popped up from where she'd stuffed her head in her suitcase, reaching over and snatching the shirt effortlessly off his face. She threw it on the floor and kissed his cheek. "There ye go. Idiot." Turning back to her bag, she stuffed seemingly her whole arm into the sea of clothes, rifling around for a minute before feeling a familiar waterproof lining. "A-ha!" She cried, triumphantly yanking the coat out of her suitcase. Several other things came flying out of the bag, but she just kicked them under the chair the suitcase was sitting in.

Kit was staring at her in astonishment. He couldn't understand how anyone could live with such chaos, much less find anything in it. Siofra saw him gawking, and she grinned, grabbing a beanie and gloves from the side pocket of her suitcase. "What's got ye so fascinated? My shirt ain't even off."

"How did you even find that in there?"

"I knew I packed it. Knew what it felt like. Just gotta keep gropin'." Siofra shrugged, slinging the jacket around her shoulders and stuffing her arms through the sleeves.

“All his stuff is meticulously organised,” Alistair explained.

"Yea, but does he organize it, or does the help do it?" Siofra asked, doing a mockingly posh accent when she said ‘the help.'

“What do you think?” Alistair muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Figured." Siofra shook her head. "C'mon, princess, my brothers are waitin' on us." She said, dragging Kit along while he whined about how he paid his servants and they weren't slaves or anything.

“They’re actually quite decent, most of them,” Alistair said. “When I was little they’d slip me sweets if I sang silly nursery rhymes for them.”

"Still gotta be lousy to spend yer life workin' for some rich wanker. Can't imagine livin' back when everybody did." Siofra grumbled.

"I mean, you'd probably be a court performer or something. Might even find yourself a decent husband if you struck a minor nobleman's fancy." Kit offered.

Siofra scoffed. "Oh, yeah. That's way better. Be a dancin' monkey an' then upgrade to fucktoy."

“I don’t think most would dance anyway. Not back then. Only the pretty ones,” Alistair added.

"Are ye sayin' I ain't even pretty enough to dance for rich twats?" Siofra raised one eyebrow menacingly.

“No, I’m just saying it’s even more unfair if you happen to be poor and ugly.”

"Oh. Fair. It'd be shit to be you back then, eh?" She asked.

Kit laughed so hard, he snorted, and he instinctively covered his mouth. Embarrassed as he was, he couldn't help adding, "No, Al was born noble. He'd just be hidden in a tower where no one could see him, sort of like Quasimodo."

“Fine! He had way more fun. I’d spend my time climbing over the roof and rescuing gypsy girls,” Alistair said.

"Who's stealin’ gypsies?" Gran asked, giving them a confused look as they walked into the living room.

"Don't worry about it." Siofra laughed. "Did the lads already grab the sledges?"

"Yep. They're waitin' out front." Gran nodded. Siofra hugged her before heading for the door.

"We'll be back in a bit."

"Don't rush yer fun. I'll just be nappin'." Gran said, grinning and pulling down Siofra's hat over her eyes. "Dont freeze, either."

Siofra laughed and fixed her hat. "See ye, Gran." She led the boys outside, where her brothers had shoveled earlier this morning. The path was still fairly clear, since it had stopped snowing around dawn. The second she stepped outside, Riagán nailed her in the face with a snowball. She yelped, and Finny came galloping over to see what was wrong.

"Finny, he got me!" She cried, "Avenge me!"