All The King's Men -- Part Three of Three

[marnanightingale]

All the King's Men (3/3)

Respectfully dedicated to:
Lois McMaster Bujold, Dorothy L. Sayers, and Tom Cochrane.
For knowing about love.

Affectionately dedicated to:

q_skud_, fairestcat.
Without whom. Words fail me, which is as well or the acknowledgements would outstrip the fic.

pewtergryphon, for patience.

ataniell93, for "immoral support".

And for my Wife, who knows why.

Betas: nindulgence and cortese

Set right after The Frogs And The Lobsters. Minutes after, actually.

Set in the All The King's Men universe, which I share with q_skud_

Dramatis personae (in alphabetical order):

Miss Kitty Cobham
Major Lord Alexander Rupert Edrington
Lt. Horatio Hornblower
Acting Lt. Archie Kennedy.
Chorus of Drunken Sailors.

Rating: explicit sexuality.
Warnings: non-explicit references to past abuse and present consequences.

Feedback: yes, please! Even if only to say 'I read this."

---

All The King's Men (1/3) All The King's Men (2/3)

Kennedy clattered down the stairs ahead of Edrington, who hid a sigh as he followed. Archie qua Archie could be an exhausting enough companion -- a reminiscent smirk played over his lips -- but a Kennedy with something on his mind ...

Whatever it was, he'd been chewing on it ever since the letter had arrived after breakfast. Chewing, and unless Edrington missed his guess, finding the flavour utterly vile. They'd woken late to the smell of coffee arriving with breakfast, and Kennedy, much to Edrington's relief, had seemed in the sunniest of moods. Breakfast had been a leisurely, teasing affair -- though it turned out that Kennedy was capable of defending his share of the coffee with exceptional cunning, guile, and, if necessary, ferocity -- consumed in bed and almost entirely, it seemed, from one another's lips -- and other places. The mail had arrived along with the second pot of coffee.

Edrington, who was poring over his own correspondence, had heard a small, stifled sound that at first he took for laughter and looked up, his expression clearing as he turned, smiling, to Kennedy, only to find him staring fixedly at nothing. He'd recovered himself quickly enough, claiming to have only been astonished that anyone should have found him so rapidly, but his face was closed, and his manner stilted, and even when he showed Edrington the letter, which he did willingly enough, Edrington could not for the life of him make out why it should have cast so long a shadow over him.

Pacing. Fussing with his clothes. Toying with dinner. He'd shied from the lightest touch, jumped at the most ordinary noise, flitted from topic to topic and place to place like a hummingbird, and through it all been determinedly cheerful, warding off questions before Edrington could truly form them. And he'd smiled and smiled again, until one flinched from the sight.

Edrington tried again, a little hopelessly. "Kennedy -- Archie, what on earth is wrong? You act as if you've been sentenced to be flogged 'round the fleet. When you have, in point of fact, merely received a remarkably appealing note, on lavender-scented paper, no less, Good God! -- inviting you to see Kitty Cobham steal School for Scandal out from under the rest of the cast."

"I told you, Alexander. I'm fine." Kennedy shot him a sidelong look. "If my behaviour has been less than agreeable, I apologise. Unreservedly."

"Your behaviour has been unexceptionable. You have been cheerful, amusing, resolute, and altogether a shining example of grace under pressure. Were you one of my officers, and this the hour before a battle, I should be extraordinarily pleased with you. Now. What in all of Heaven and Hell is the matter?"

They paced along the street silently for almost a block, Kennedy gazing determinedly ahead.

"Archie." Edrington let the silence stretch out again until Archie sighed.

"Damn it, Alexander!"

"Yes?"

"I... I know her. From before."

"I had deduced that. From the note. From your stage-door days?"

"Yes." Archie's face had gone absolutely still.

"Is that what this is about?" Edrington shook his head. "If every man who was once a callow young boy making calf's-eyes at a pretty young actress -- ah. More than calf's eyes?"

A small smile. Small, but real enough. Not that, then. "Not much more."

"Obviously you made an impression. After all, it's been, what --"

"It's been two years, about. We're going to be late." The wide, ghastly parody of a smile was back again. "I seem to keep saying that to you. When it comes to the theatre. Do you know, I have never seen this play before, only read it?" He marched determinedly onward, and Edrington perforce went with him.

He endured three more blocks of inconsequential chatter before his patience stretched thin and snapped.

"Archie!" He reached out to grasp his sleeve, but Archie twisted away, though he did stop, albeit with an exaggeratedly tolerant air. Edrington ground his teeth.

"We're going to be late," Archie said again.

"Then we shall be late. As late as necessary." It is just possible, Kennedy, that you are as stubborn as I was at your age.

"People are staring."

Edrington glanced about. "So they are. If you care for their opinions, well." He shrugged. "You know what I require."

He tried to work through this. Archie had been boiling with nervous energy all day. Now he was still. Calm. Wary. Shut away, again. Afraid. Of Kitty Cobham? Two years?

"She vanished for awhile, I recall. Nobody knows where she was."

"On the Continent, mostly. I gather. For the love of God, Alexander, what does it matter, anyway?"

"It matters to me."

"Why?" Edrington opened his mouth. Shut it again. Later.

"It matters. You were in prison."

A hit, there; Kennedy's composure cracked for a moment, and he looked suddenly very young indeed. "Yes. Yes, for Christ's sake. I saw her when I was in prison. What in God's name have you heard about that -- about that hellish mess?"

"Five escapes." I'm not sure I could have done as much. What was there to be ashamed of in that?

"Christ. Five escape attempts. Obviously, none of them were remotely successful."

"The revealing part was what I was not told, actually." At Archie's puzzled look, he went on: "Your men protect you rather fiercely."

"It is -- in their interests, not to let my ... failures of nerve bring us all to grief."

Edrington rolled his eyes. Matthews, who, it seemed, was normally quite free with his opinions, had made himself inescapably clear in very few words. Yes My Lord and No Major, and I really couldn't say My Lord. And all the while his face had said quite plainly that if Edrington was looking for anything he could use to Our Acting Lieutenant Kennedy's discredit, well, Major, with respect My Lord, he could sod right off, Sir.

"So you met her again in prison. You serve every day with men who were imprisoned with you. I fail to see how --"

"I did not say we met again. I said, I saw her, Alexander. And she saw me. Saw what I had allowed myself to be reduced to. I was half-starved, unable to walk, unable to even feed myself, mumbling and raving like an idiot, and covered in my own filth. She turned her face and walked away. Not that I blame her. Even Horatio -- had to force himself to come near me."

Edrington made himself meet Archie's eyes, fighting for some appearance of calm. He had pried the lid off of this Pandora's box; he'd no right to look away now. Handle him carefully ...

"And why after that she wants to see me again -- ever again -- I cannot fathom. I never thought she was amused by freaks, before."

"But you are determined to see her."

"I'm done with running, that's all. Prison cured me of that, at least."

"Then let us get it done, by all means," Edrington said, and reached to lay a reassuring arm across Kennedy's shoulder.

He stiffened, shrugging him off. "I hope I am not quite such a coward yet as to presume to take advantage of your pity to lean on you for protection from a lady's well-earned scorn. Major." He turned on his heel and stalked away.

Or began to. Edrington had checked himself and begun to draw back, stung by the cold note in Archie's voice, but this was too much. Major, is it? Somehow he had the back of Archie's coat in his fist and was half-dragging him into a nearby alley. He tossed him towards the wall and was at him as he turned.

He was surprised to find his tone so calm, almost conversational: "So you propose to go straight to the attack again, all guns blazing, with no notion at all of what might -- or might not -- be hiding in the trees?"

Archie stared back at him, woodenly. "Just as you say, My Lord. I --"

"Be quiet, Mr Kennedy! Just -- you will keep your tongue behind your teeth. And listen. Carefully."

Archie opened his mouth. Closed it again. Nodded.

Edrington found himself casting about madly for words. He settled on: "You have seen my shoulder."

Archie nodded, puzzled.

"The slash went to the bone. I swooned. Then I screamed. I could scarce lift my arm for months. It really is quite decently strong, now. Well enough, for all practical purposes. But it pains me, sometimes. And I have to take more care with it than I do with the other. It is certainly weaker than yours. As you know." He paused. "Do you despise me for it?"

"I -- No."

"If you spend enough nights in my bed you will doubtless hear the story. I'm told I cry out in my sleep now, and babble sometimes. Will that make you hate me?"

He smiled in cold satisfaction as he saw Archie's eyes widen. Do we begin to understand one another, now?

"This is not your own private war, Mr. Kennedy, nor are you the only man to have been so gravely wounded by it. And I have no patience left for watching brave men ruin themselves through foolish shame and martyrdom. Not anymore."

Archie was gaping at him openly now, ever more off-balance. Good.

He forced himself to loosen his iron grip on Archie's arms. "Now. We are going to the theatre. We will see a play. You will face Kitty Cobham. And I shall stand by your side, ready to lend you my aid, should you require it. You, in turn, shall endeavour to accept the situation at least one-half as gracefully as Lieutenant Hornblower was apparently able to accept you risking your neck to save him, when he could not save himself. Is this quite clear, sir?"

Archie nodded, wide-eyed.

"Good. And one more thing?"

"Yes?"

Edrington kissed him, hard and furious. "Do not ever use the word 'pity' to me again. Idiot." He released him with a final, brisk shake.

The remainder of the walk to the theatre was made in silence. As they took their seats, however, Edrington felt the lightest brush of a touch across the back of his hand. He looked up to see Kennedy smiling at him, tentatively, and looked a question at him.

"We seem to be accumulating a rather ... odd set of theatregoing traditions, do we not?" Archie said.

"Somewhat outré, yes," Edrington replied, settling back for the performance with a small smile of his own.

* * *

Edrington studied Archie's shadowed profile as he lifted his hand to knock at the dressing-room door. There'd been no flirtation during the performance this time; Archie had sat absorbed, straining forward in his seat like a thoroughbred at the starting line, rarely taking his eyes from the stage, almost jumping at Miss Cobham's entrance. Edrington had risked a cautious hand on his forearm, then, and Kennedy had not only allowed it to remain but slowly relaxed into the touch.

Edrington's mind had wandered in the second act, and his eyes with them, until he'd found himself peering down on an unruly mop of dark hair topping a blue-coated set of shoulders.

He had returned his eyes, if not his thoughts, to the stage, but not before the dark-haired man below had turned his head enough that Edrington was quite certain of his man. There were not two such noses in His Majesty's Navy; that was Lieutenant Hornblower seated below them.

Beside him, Kennedy had stirred, following his gaze. Edrington had heard him inhale, sharply, but he'd given no other sign -- if one were willing to dismiss the hand that had ghosted once again over his as merest coincidence. Greatly daring, he had tangled his fingers in Archie's for a brief moment before returning his hand to the arm of his seat, leaving it ever-so casually within easy reach.

Now they stood before the door, listening to the sounds of rustling within, and Archie was squaring his shoulders and biting his lip, soothing the small hurt with his tongue as the door opened.

* * *

Archie stepped into the room and sketched a bow. "Miss Cobham. Thank you for your kind invitation; your performance was, as your performances always are, quite brilliant."

He drew back, stung, to see her flinch and close her eyes briefly. What did you expect?

He forged on. "Miss Cobham. May I have the honour to present Lord Edrington? My Lord? Miss Kitty Cobham."

Alexander bowed slightly over her hand. "We have met, as it happens, Kennedy. Miss Cobham. Lieutenant Hornblower."

Archie turned, startled. Sure enough, Horatio was standing in the dressing room, watching him intently, shifting nervously away from his gaze. I am to be spared nothing, then. All my trouble to make him forget what I was ... well. It can be done again, though I am tired just thinking of it.

"Horatio." He smiled, tentatively, and the small, tight smile he received in return made his breath catch and stutter. He turned away; no help there, and found himself again face to face with Miss Cobham, who had been exchanging a few low words with Edrington. She startled Archie by catching his hands and swinging them aside as she looked him over. He schooled his expression and endured it, holding to the reassurance of a flash of a red-clad shoulder where Alexander stood silent and watchful, until she took his face between her hands and sought his eyes. He looked away then, afraid. "Miss Cobham, I..." Her soft sound of protest cut him off sharply.

"Oh, Miss Cobham this and Miss Cobham that! I suppose I deserved that, Archie, I know I did. But will you not let me apologise, and be friends, and call me Kitty as you used to?"

Archie stared. "I -- ah. You -- apologise?"

"For that day in the infirmary. When I ran from you."

Archie felt his face grow hot. "I didn't, I -- I don't blame you for that," he said. "I was no sort of sight for a lady, I -- I scarce looked human, I -- "

"You looked like a man who had been treated badly and was very ill. I recognised you. And I did not want to be known for Kitty Cobham, actress. So I ran. Like a coward. Knowing, knowing what you would believe. I'd built up such an edifice of lies -- I ought to have trusted you. Asked for your help."

Archie stared into her face for a long time.

"Of Caesar seek your honour, with your safety," he said, finally.

She smiled sadly. "They do not go together."

"Not in that place, Kitty," he said, and took her hands.

"I think we all left ... things we'd rather have kept, there," she said, and sighed. "Did Horatio tell you how I --?"

It was Archie's turn to interrupt. "No. And I don't need to know. You're right, we -- everyone betrays themself there, sooner or later. Except Horatio --"

"Who merely betrayed both of you," Horatio said, bitterly. They swung round to stare at him, aghast at his expression.

"If I hadn't confronted Miss Cobha -- Kitty, then," he corrected himself at a look from her -- "like a fool at the top of my lungs -- "

Archie was having none of it. "If I'd had the wit not to tell you -- Bloody Hell, I ought to have known there was no harm in her for us!"

"If I'd trusted you more --" Kitty paced.

It was too much, too quick, this outpouring of folly and shame. Horatio and Kitty battled on, each seemingly determined to engross the greater share of blame to themselves, drowning each other out and leaving him entirely unable to make himself heard. His head ached. "Enough!" Archie said, and glared at Horatio until he shut his mouth with an almost audible snap. For a moment Archie simply stood, stunned. I was the Hamlet in this tale, the madman whose weakness nearly brought it all crashing down ... and here we stand, all costumed as comic gravediggers, having a drink together after the performance. Or, not having a drink. I think ... I think I would very much like a drink.

"Stand thou forth; the time is fair again," he said, and smiled at Kitty's startled glance and slow nod.

"If it end so meet, the bitter past, more welcome is the sweet?" she said, and dimpled suddenly. "Now, let me look at you properly; is this the boy who used to bring me violets and cadge for kisses with every pretty glance?"

He laughed. "Not quite. And I brought no violets, alas."

"Well, I shall forgive you. At some cost."

"A word and a blow, Lady?" he teased, then blinked as she kissed him, too startled to do anything but kiss her back.

When she stepped back, she brought her hand to his cheek, her eyes still searching his face. "Have I got rid of my sin by kissing you?" she asked, soberly, and he smiled at her. "Then give me -- " he rolled his eyes, and she made a rueful face.

"A kiss as long as my exile?" he said instead, and brought his mouth back to hers, letting her part his lips and taste him until the flicker of her tongue made him catch her nape in his hand and pull her close, exploring her mouth more confidently now, alternately teasing and coaxing until she shivered deliciously in his arms.

"Not quite the same boy, indeed!" she said, flushed and smiling, when he let her go.

"No. Still the same Kitty, though, and I am heartily glad of it," he said, and kissed her hand extravagantly, bowing low. I think I am a little mad from sheer relief.

He caught Horatio's amused eye on him and blushed scarlet, but Horatio only shook his head, smiling.

"I cannot help but feel that I am a mid again, understanding only a quarter of what is said to me, when I hear you two talk," he said.

"It wants a youth misspent, I think," Archie said, apologetically, "and a magpie's mind for words. It is no great trick, really."

"Still, I could wish for it," Horatio said.

"Words are easy, like the wind." They jumped slightly as Edrington unfolded himself from his place against the wall, smiling. Horatio blinked and looked to Archie, who grinned at him and finished the line just ahead of the others.

"Faithful friends are hard to find."

* * *

"And as for you --" Edrington found himself pulled forward by an insistent Kitty and looked over much as Archie had been -- "I don't believe you've changed a jot, for all you're Your Lordship now, and a Major on top of it." He smirked and shook his head at her air of exaggerated respect.

"I warn you, Kitty, if you address me as My Lord even once in private, I shall take -- I shall take it quite amiss," he said, mock-stern.

She favoured him with a decidedly ... private smile at that, and murmured, "drastic measures?" He flushed even as he smiled back at her, the more so at the surprised giggle from behind him. Rather warm in here... He glanced rather helplessly at Hornblower, that at least ought to be a reasonably safe place to look, -- and found himself staring at a pale smudge of paint on the blue serge shoulder of his coat. He glanced back at Kitty, and she looked up to him demurely, the very picture of innocence.

He shook his head at her, leaning in to speak low in her ear, "Do not play Ophelia to me, Lady; I know that look of old."

"Then you know there's no harm in this," she replied, equally soft, and he nodded. "So do not frown and speechify like Laertes, wretch!"

"Polonius, then, Lady?"

She dimpled at him for that, and for a moment he envied Hornblower as he stood deep in earnest discussion with Archie, until blue eyes glanced his way, full of deviltry, then returned to rest gleefully on the same betraying smudge. He found his humour entirely restored at the conspiratorial nature of the exchange, and returned his attention to Kitty, quite satisfied.

"If you would be so kind, my Lord," she said, and stepped away from him, eyes dancing.

"I heard that!" Archie called over.

"As did I," Edrington said, laughing at Kitty's look of mock-terror as he kissed her, brief but not quite chaste, and then again, for -- forfeit. Among other reasons; he was almost shamefully pleased to be able to fluster her as much as Archie had. Though nothing like as much as she'd used to fluster him, once; even now, he was half-stiff against her, and her appreciative murmur made him glance at the couch along the wall and clench his fingers in her hair, remembering ... she'd had him to her dressing room and flirted and teased relentlessly, driving him half-mad with baffled desire, until he'd picked her up bodily and carried her over there, astonishing himself a great deal -- and her not at all, he thought, remembering her satisfied laugh and how she had melted into him ... he cleared his throat.

"I believe -- "I believe that I had best put a stop to this. Right now ... -- "We are shocking Lieutenant Hornblower," he murmured, setting her back on her feet with a discreet pat and glancing over to see Hornblower, speaking earnestly to Archie. "Has that young man the least idea just how very thoroughly shocked he is likely to be before morning?"

"Not in the least, Alexander, and don't you tell him, either. You're a fine one to talk, for that matter. Are you leading that young man astray?"

He glanced over at Archie, who was gripping Hornblower's hands earnestly as their heads bent together, and grinned at her. "He lets me believe it. I suspect I am being humoured."

"Well, best you lead him out of here, at any rate, for if you lose me my quarry, I may well poach yours."

"Pity it's such a small dressing-room," he sighed, grinning as she smacked his arm. "Very well, then, we shall leave you to your sport."

* * *

They made their way along the dark streets in companionable near-silence until Alexander said casually, "You and Lieutenant Hornblower seemed to have a great deal to talk about."

Archie felt his face heat against the cool darkness. "He - ah -- he wondered if perhaps we might be free to accompany him to supper, some evening. And -- and he asked if you might spare me to him, to -- there is an exhibition, he says, that he thought I might enjoy." He'd said more than that, albeit stiltedly. How much more he'd meant, well. Portsmouth hardly seems the same city without you and I am quite dull, with no-one to make me talk, or to laugh at me, hardly added up to a declaration of eternal devotion, but what was he to make of I seem to turn to speak to you a hundred times a day; I think people must think me mad, to be so often seen gaping? He set his jaw. I will not make too much of it. Not again. Still --

He glanced over to see Alexander regarding him with an odd half-smile. "I rather expected as much."

"I -- do you mind?"

"Archie. If I were unwilling to spare you to Lieutenant Hornblower, I should have been a fool to begin this." He smiled at Archie's anxious expression, and continued, "In any case, it's not my choice to make. Nor his. But I hope you know you will -- never be unwelcome."

Archie paced on for a moment, taking this in. Considering. Freedom. And somewhere to come back to. Against ... whatever Horatio is to me. And mine to decide.

He looked at Edrington, probing beneath the carefully cool expression. Saw resolution and anxiety mingled, and bit his lip.

No. Not to decide. To choose.

I choose ... not to give my parole again. At least for now.

They had almost reached the inn. As they made their way to the door, he grinned cheekily up at Alexander and said "I imagine I in return shall be expected to spare you to pretty actresses and the odd Army Captain?"

Edrington smirked. "Ah -- opera singer, actually. Viennese. But you're right about the Army Captain, he is -- quite surpassingly odd."

"I imagine he would have to be," Archie said, demurely, surprising a snort from Alexander, who returned fire as they reached the stairs: "And talking of pretty actresses, what was that poppycock tale you told me about an alley in Portsmouth?"

"Well. It was behind a theatre. Against a brick wall. With a girl from the chorus. Think of the Platonic Ideal, and you will see that all bricks in alleys behind theatres are one, really."

Edrington snorted again. "Conniving wretch."

"On occasion." They had reached the door of their room. Archie looked up at him hopefully. "And, ah -- talking of theatregoing traditions?"

Alexander beat him to the lock by a bare second.

~~ Exeunt Omnes.

Ices, lemonade, and delicate lace handkerchiefs available in the lobby.

Comments

[gryphons-lair.livejournal.com]

Oooh! Artwork! Who did it?

(Yes, of course I read the fic, but I read it in draft. The art is -new-!)

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

q_skud_.

Is it not nifty?

[gryphons-lair.livejournal.com]

Very very nice.

Wow, q_skud_'s a kick-ass fanfic writer -and- a highly talented artist! Who knew?

[damned-colonial.livejournal.com]

Well, in fact, I traced them. With the Gimp. *makes "tracer" jokes a la Chasing Amy*

[pewtergryphon.livejournal.com]

Yes, but even tracing is a skill. Knowing what to leave out and what to put in, and all that.

Had you considered making this into letterhead?

[hazelhawthorne.livejournal.com]

I find myself very distraught at the thought that this is part three of three.

Please tell me there will be more. Soon? I want to see what happens. At what point dows Horatio gett off his prudish ass and tell Archie how he feels? How long do we have to wait for the threesome? Whatever is sweet Lieutenant Hornblower going to make of all the designs on his person?

Please tell me there is more coming soon. How can I face the prospect of work next week if I won't have you to disrupt my productivity?

Thank you for this treat. I feel terribly greedy to be demanding more, but it is just so tasty.

I will leave you with one more

Please

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

I find myself very distraught at the thought that this is part three of three.

*pets* I'm so glad you liked it that much! Yay! *squeals*

Please tell me there will be more. Soon?

Well, next up is a veer back into Pirates, and then we shall see in what order the muses talk to me, but yes, definitely more. Meanwhile, have you read q_skud_'s wonderful Nature and Degree? And the letters?

Definitely more letters; they tend to happen more frequently than the big big fics do.

At what point does Horatio get off his prudish ass and tell Archie how he feels?

*evil grin* Distracted by Edrington and Kitty, were you? Yes, I'm cruel.

Please tell me there is more coming soon. How can I face the prospect of work next week if I won't have you to disrupt my productivity?

Between me and q_skud_, I imagine that productivity will continue to decline... :-)

[hazelhawthorne.livejournal.com]

Yes I have read Nature and Degree and the letters. And I still want more, more, more. I like the letters. I wiuld love to read more letters.

*blinks eyes*

Please

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

There will be more. I promise.

*coughMondaycough*

[tygerr.livejournal.com]

It is, of course, yummy. As I have known for some time.

I dunno who's luckier--those of us who haven't had to wait so long, or those who still get the joy of seeing it for the first time! :-)

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Edrington kissed him, hard and furious. "Do not ever use the word 'pity' to me again. Idiot."

I squealed aloud at this, I really did. Eeeee!

I seem to turn to speak to you a hundred times a day; I think people must think me mad, to be so often seen gaping?

*squeeeeeeeeee*

*more squeeeing*

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

Idiot -- rhymes with 'darling'. Yes.

That's my Edrington :-)

I am so glad you enjoyed it -- thank you!

A twisted response

[sjkasabi.livejournal.com]

Please sir, can I have some more?

The A/E sex scene was far too distractingly hot to think about the best bits of for feedback purposes, so instead I'll say I really enjoyed watching Kitty having designs on Horatio :-) :-)

Re: A twisted response

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

More?

*rattles chain between keyboard and self*

*looks longingly out window*

This was going to be a drabble. A light, fluffy drabble, inspired entirely by me picking up a copy of Drunken Sailor that had the Lobster Verse and hearing Archie start snickering.

Since then between me and Skud it's thrown off well over 20 000 words.

And all that being said:

I am speechless at the praise it has gotten, and squeeful, and very very relieved. I sweated blood on this one, for a month.

There will be a letter on Monday. Not a LOT more, but more.

And Horatio is a lucky, lucky man. Says Edrington, and he ought to know. :-)

[black-hound.livejournal.com]

I have to say that the header illustration is a perfect touch and wonderfully executed! *doffs tricorne hat in salute*

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

q_skud_ does nice work, no?

All the King's Men

[nindulgence.livejournal.com]

Platonic ideals of alleyways indeed. Cheeky Crumpet.

Very nice, and I like what you've done with the beginning of this part.

(A wee note: the link to Part Three at the end of Part Two seems to take the reader back to Part Two.)

~

Re: All the King's Men

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

OI, thought I'd caught every iteration of that error.

Fixed now, thank you!

He really is, isn't he?

Thanks for reading, and I'm glad you like it!

[petronelle.livejournal.com]

I adore your character voices and the balance between dialogue and description, so difficult to strike well. This love story, such as it is, of two rakes -- at least they are not threatening other people with their wicked charms, if they are entangled in each other for the time being.

Although it is a great shame that Kitty's dressing room is too small.

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I always feel so especially blissed when people notice the things that I work the hardest on. Voice was hard in this one.

"This love story, such as it is, of two rakes --"

Hard love and imperfect comfort is very much what I set out to write -- again I am squeeful!

I think -- I think there is a limit to what Archie can take in, at this time of his life. Great romantic pronouncements or unaccented adoration would only leave him feeling that they must be based on a misunderstanding of who he is, and will therefore be withdrawn later, when his Real Self is revealed.

But I want you here. It's better when you're with me. -- that he can hear, and accept.

It really is a shame about the dressing room, but Horatio would be shocked senseless.

And while Edrington is quite willing to share, he's not going to go out of his way to do so just yet, even if he does tease about it; he really does like to make sure he's secured his gains, having made them, before he relaxes.

[petronelle.livejournal.com]

Voice was hard in this one.

It came out so smooth, though, so -- you succeeded admirably.

Great romantic pronouncements or unaccented adoration would only leave him feeling that they must be based on a misunderstanding of who he is, and will therefore be withdrawn later, when his Real Self is revealed.

I'm trying to figure out whether this means he's doing well in his present choice of partners and/or friends. Horatio is far from the hearts-and-flowers type, even when he's shocked out of his little shell, and Edrington might bring a bouquet, but he would do it with a wink and disclaim whatever romantic power it might otherwise have.

And while Edrington is quite willing to share, he's not going to go out of his way to do so just yet, even if he does tease about it; he really does like to make sure he's secured his gains, having made them, before he relaxes.

The relationship between Archie and Horatio is so tentative, confused, and conflicted here that I rather doubt Archie would stick with Edrington, given the closer-to-hand option of Horatio. Although I would like to know whether they discussed their respective leaves afterward -- Horatio wouldn't bring it up, not with the memory of Kitty and the wicked Earl floating around, and perhaps Archie would know better than to tease him. Perhaps not.

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

*flagrant self-pimping*

There are later stories in the same universe over at the archive. :-)

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

"I'm trying to figure out whether this means he's doing well in his present choice of partners and/or friends."

Well. I try not to assert authorial intent too much, but I think he is, yeah.

Edrington is good for Archie precisely because he IS a rake. He's seen a lot. Archie doesn't need to be careful around him to avoid shocking him, and while he's not lacking in compassion in the least, his somewhat matter-of-fact acceptance that awful things happen to people and just shaking it off is a fairy tale is a good balance to Horatio's rather more black-and-white approach to life.

And as much as he loves Horatio? Archie's spent enough of his life waiting for the good bits to come along. No artificial shortages for this boy, he's had enough of the real kind.

[melusina]

I loved, loved, loved this, and not just for the smut. One of my narrative kinks is theatrical references in stories, so this was just an absolute delight to me.

*Still* haven't gotten around to watching The Duel, but I'm getting sucked into this fandom anyway!

[commodorified.livejournal.com]

Archie burbling Shakespeare is canon, even :-)

[meletor-et-al.livejournal.com]

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Aaand, last go at the Attack Feedback. The last third of the Reactionary Squees, followed by an honest-to-ungoodness coagulated response. Squees first.
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"Your behaviour has been unexceptionable. You have been cheerful, amusing, resolute, and altogether a shining example of grace under pressure. Were you one of my officers, and this the hour before a battle, I should be extraordinarily pleased with you. Now. What in all of Heaven and Hell is the matter?"
Dialogue quote love. Sincere, squeeing, flopping dialogue quote love.

He marched determinedly onward, and Edrington perforce went with him.
Perforce! I'm sorry; I'm terribly in love with that word; have been for years.

Yes My Lord and No Major, and I really couldn't say My Lord. And all the while his face had said quite plainly that if Edrington was looking for anything he could use to Our Acting Lieutenant Kennedy's discredit, well, Major, with respect My Lord, he could sod right off, Sir.
HAH! Awesome. I have a thing for blended dialogue-prose. And this is fun. And superbly well-turned.

"So you propose to go straight to the attack again, all guns blazing, with no notion [...] "Do not ever use the word 'pity' to me again. Idiot." He released him with a final, brisk shake.
Scene love. Profuse scene love. See me flail and go "eee!" at the decisive war-is-hellish-and-I-know-it commanding and altogether wonderfulness of Edrington. Eee!

There were not two such noses in His Majesty's Navy; that was Lieutenant Hornblower seated below them.
*snorkle giggle blows raspberries on the keyboard* You're so mean to him! Poor Horatio.

Archie stepped into the room and sketched a bow.
*bounce!* …'sketched a bow' has also been on my List of Irrationally Favorite Phrases for a while now.

everyone betrays themself there, sooner or later. Except Horatio --"

"Who merely betrayed both of you,"
Owww…

"Now, let me look at you properly; is this the boy who used to bring me violets and cadge for kisses with every pretty glance?"
Love for this line, too. It's just so prettily turned out. Beautiful.

"Ah -- opera singer, actually. Viennese.
Opera! *flap*

Think of the Platonic Ideal, and you will see that all bricks in alleys behind theatres are one, really."
Now watch carefully -- this is my adoration for you going up a bajillion times for using SuperHistory, snark, long queues, Shakespeare (much Shakespeare! happy!), and the Platonic Ideal all in one fic.

~~ Exeunt Omnes.
Hah. Exuent. Booyah.

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And now, part deux (er, quatre?), to recap, and to be moderately serious and cogent. Lo.
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Aside from all those squee moments, about a good dozen others that I just did not feel the need to relate, and the undeniable mindmelting hotness of part 2 and along the edges of 1 and a little past the edges of 3, aside from all that, which in itself would make this worth the ... what, 4 hours? 3? 3-4 hours of my undivided attention is rare to say the least. But I consider it well, well spent. Because, beyond all I've just babbled on about, you also captured a very human, believeable, honest complexity in all the different relationships between the characters. It's all incredibly real, and that's terribly hard to do even when the characters are completely your own construction; even more difficult when they're matching to someone else's begun creations, and you're going from clues and history. It's... absolutely incredible. They stepped from the pages, (even the passingly mentioned characters, Matthews for example) and had such color and vibrancy and truth that I entirely forgot I was reading, except when I tripped across some exceptionally assembled phrase or another and had to go "OMG faublous writer freakout" and run around the basement squealing (Because yes, that is what I really do, really really honestly, and I am such a dork for it. *for shame*). In short, this is yummy in all facets, and I'm so joyfully gleefully dancingly glad there's more to tote around with me.

Happy May 7!