Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Just because the undead has to have blood to survive doesn’t mean they aren’t caffeine addicts still.”

He looked over the perimeter of the small cafe, knowing his mother, God rest her soul, would be amused if she caught sight of what this former lieutenant was up to these days. Not killing for profit, no...now he was brewing lattes and macchiatos spiked with all sorts of things he’d never dream of ingesting himself to the undead and then some. Jim had tried long and hard to get him to allow himself to be turned but a life of immortality just didn’t appeal to the soldier in him. Knowing there was an end, however messy it was...he rather liked that.

At least Jim had enjoyed having his own personal donor, for whatever he was craving at the moment. Being the boss’s right-hand man and unmentioned pet had had its perks.

Like this place, one of the few legitimate businesses he had run, left to him in Jim’s will with a sizeable fortune to boot. Jim had known he’d be bored stiff if he just had the money. He needed something to do.

And at least an honest living was better than not living at all.

Before dusk, the cafe catered to the humans and sometimes the Other Folk. At night, there was a new clientele. He was lucky he had a loft upstairs for when he absolutely had to sleep. And even luckier still he had a vampire hybrid waitress who never needed sleep to hold down the fort when he wasn’t there in person.

Molly had been...a toy, for lack of a better term. Jim had found her useful, since unlike most vampires she could walk in the sun, had little of the side effects that most vampires did, and didn’t rely on a steady diet of donors, preferring BloodOxy to anything real. He had no idea if she actually liked the taste of the stuff, but one can of blood substitute a day and she was full of energy and didn’t need anything else.

Though she could bake. The humans, even the more prejudiced ones, could stand a hybrid with amazing baking skills.

He had no idea what her history was, how she came to be or anything like that. All he knew was that Jim had given him “custody” of her in the will and she was whip-smart, warm and a natural with all types of customers. He’d tried to say she didn’t need to stay if she wanted to go but she said he had custody and she had to stay until he died.

He was betting she was part fae of some sort. Maybe distant Brownie? Stranger things had happened, after all. But he liked having her around all the same.

“Don’t you want to do something else other than stay here all damn day?” he asked as he watched her bend over to take a batch of scones out of the oven. What little time she spent alone she spent in the cottage behind the cafe, filled with the most brilliant flowers he’d ever seen in her garden and some very old trees surrounding her place. They hadn’t been there when they’d opened but now, a year later, he couldn’t imagine her little abode looking just the way it did.

“Nope,” she said, popping the p a little in her reply. “I like working. It’s better than sleeping.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he said, watching her take the baking sheet out without oven mitts. She had to have some sort of magic coursing through her veins because even thousand-year-old vampires could burn themselves on an oven if they weren’t careful.

“And besides, you need a keeper, Mr. ‘I Know Shite About Taking Care Of Myself’ Moran,” she said with a wide smile.

“I do not need a keeper,” he grumbled, flushing slightly. Damn it all, if she didn’t flirt with him every chance she got he would think the world was ending. Not that she was serious. She’d never been serious about anyone who flitted in and out of her path, as far as he knew. Not even Jim.

She had been the one to put a stop to his foolishness with that Holmes bloke.

Hell, she might actually carry a torch for Holmes, which made him feel as inadequate as possible. Holmes was an arse, but he was something different, just like Molly.

Maybe they were suited, but he didn’t like thinking about it.

He noticed the smell coming closer and he shook his head, paying attention to Molly. For a creature of the night, she sure did like her bright colours and floral patterns. The cut of her trousers accentuated the curves she had, and her hair was pulled back into a messy bun which left her neck tantalizingly bare, with the exceptions of a few stray brown tendrils. He felt his own trousers get uncomfortably tighter as she got close.

“Try one,” she said, indicating the scones. “New recipe. Cinnamon and pear.”

“Too hot,” he pointed out.

She picked one up off the tray and then blew on it, and he knew the minute she handed it to him it’d be just the perfect temperature. All her food was, and her coffee was perfectly brewed and made exactly how every customer wanted it, even if they hadn’t placed their order yet.

Yes. Definitely fae of some sort.

He took a bite and had to admit, this was a winning combination. “Small batch?” he asked around a mouthful.

“For today. If they sell well we can make it a spring special.” She smiled and then reached up and brushed a crumb from the corner of his mouth. “Or I can just make them for you.”

“Sell ‘em. They’re amazing,” he said.

Her grin widened. “Then spring special it is.” She turned away and began removing the rest from the baking sheet, blowing on each one, humming something to herself. He would stay and watch if he could, but coffee wasn’t going to serve itself if he didn’t go back out there.

After all, he had a business to run and roofs to keep over their heads.

Chapter Text

“Scones. Molly made them.” Seb set a plate down in front of Holmes, trying not to scowl. Holmes was probably there to take Molly off to who knew where for “important business,” because he could never come to the cafe just to be a paying patron. No, there was always a reason he was there, and it never seemed to be good.

Seb didn’t know much about either of their pasts or their past with each other and frankly, he didn’t give two shits about Holmes so long as he left Molly in peace. But there was something about Holmes that screamed “very important person” and Seb was smart enough not to piss off the undead, so he let him get his time with Molly and gave him the barest of civility.

The very barest.

He knew more about Jim’s history with Holmes, how Jim had been cast away because he hadn’t been particularly picky about who or what he used his vampire traits on, about how it had been 200 years that Jim had developed the underworld web that had drawn him in, how Jim was going to destroy the world and Molly had slipped Holmes the information he needed to demand a “pistols at dawn” sort of situation for vampires.

Molly had had to be there, and she never spoke of what happened that morning, only that she had a new owner and it was him, and she’d said it with some relief.

He was never told what happened between her and Jim, but he didn’t really need to be. The bruises he’d see purpling on her after she’d come back from an assignment told him enough. She wasn’t a violent creature and had seemed happier and better adjusted since Jim’s death. Maybe she was happy with this life, with him and the cafe and all that.

But he’d let Holmes know, in no uncertain terms, if Molly ever came back in a similar fashion while being out with him, he’d be a dead member of the undead really quickly.

Holmes picked up the scone and sniffed it. Maybe he thought there was poison in it from Seb’s hand. Who knew? “Nutmeg.”

“What?” Seb asked.

“There’s a dash of nutmeg.” He took a bite and then chewed appreciatively. “If she has time, she should whip up a vanilla bean glaze to put on top.”

For once, Holmes was saying something that made sense, and so Seb nodded. “I’ll bring it up.”

“She doesn’t need to be gone for long this time,” Holmes said. “Two days at most. Her presence is...needed.”

Seb snorted and shrugged. “I give her as much freedom as she’ll take. She wants to go off with you, I don’t care, so long as she comes back healthy and whole.”

“Yes, she’s mentioned that,” Holmes said before taking another bite of his scone. “Her kind doesn’t do well with unmitigated freedom.”

“Aren’t you both the same thing?” Seb asked, momentarily confused.

“No, we’re not,” Holmes said before lapsing into silence and eating the scone. Seb got distracted by other customers and when he returned there was a paper swan folded out of a napkin sitting on the plate, and five pounds sitting next to the untouched coffee cup. Holmes always left a tip and Seb made sure those tips went directly to Molly. The day that didn’t happen, he’d be surprised.

It was starting to slow down with the human crowd, and he knew that since it was going to be shorthanded the next two days now he should get some rest while the human employees were still there. He turned and went to the employee door and then started towards the stairs to get to his flat. It wasn’t anything special, more like a one bedroom apartment that was only the size of a studio, but he’d had worse and he was grateful for it.

He flopped down onto the bed and shut his eyes. Two days without Molly. Chances were she was downstairs baking up a storm so he’d be covered for baked goods in her absence. Her magic extended even without her breath, and for a few days, the scones would taste just like they were freshly made. If Holmes liked the pear and cinnamon ones, chances are they’d be out by the time she came back.

And he just hoped it was only for two days because he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, least of all Molly herself, but she was the ray of sunshine that made this place his first home since he was a kid. He didn’t want to lose her.

Ever.

Chapter Text

“Seb? Sebastian? Are you awake?”

He dimly heard the door open and then shut, and suddenly there was a very light but very curvy weight on top of him and he felt hair brush over his cheek. “Are you going to lay on top of me until I get up, Molly?” he asked, his voice groggy but amused.

“Yes,” she said simply. “You’re warm.”

“You’re like a cat on a windowsill,” he replied. It had become a strange custom between them, where when she arrived back to the cafe she seemed to go straight to invading his privacy, as well as his personal space. Sometimes she laid down on top of him, sometimes if he didn’t seem ready to wake up she’d curl up next to him, and other times she’d perch on the end of his bed and then pounce on him when he sat up to stretch, tackle-hugging him back onto the bed. She had never been this affectionate with Jim, and perhaps that was the most telling of his lover’s relationship with her.

It never went any further than close proximity, much to his dismay. The first time she had done it he’d been sleeping in the nude and she crawled under the covers with her back against him, fully clothed, and when he’d realized it he’d gone and gotten a pair of pants to put on and then climbed back into bed and put an arm around her waist. He’d thought he’d heard her crying and that was a sound he never wanted to hear again. And he’d been lucky enough to have “ray of sunshine” Molly around more often, even if him sleeping starkers was out of the question now.

A small sacrifice, he supposed.

It was then he noticed it was nighttime outside and he frowned. “Have you even left yet?” he asked.

She got quiet and then slid off of on top of him, nuzzling her nose into the crook of his neck. “My presence wasn’t...wanted,” she said quietly.

“Holmes said you were needed,” he said, his frown deepening.

“I was. But I wasn’t wanted so I told them to fuck off and left. I’m happier here, away from all the responsibilities.”

“Is there going to be problems?” he asked, turning so he could look at her.

“Maybe. But Sherlock will deal with it.” She gave him a small smile “I don’t need to go back for a while. Do you want anything to eat?”

“No, but I think I made a decent glaze for the scones,” he said, following her lead in changing the conversation. “Yours will probably be better.”

“Maybe,” she said. “For a human, you can cook well enough. You don’t starve, at least.” Then she reached over and grasped his hand. “You’re...good.”

“Love, if you knew me--” he started, but she shook her head.

“I do. I mean, I know you...better than I’d like,” she said, interweaving her fingers with his. “You make me feel safe. And things could get very bad. But here...I’m safe. You’ll make sure of it.” He nodded but said nothing, lying next to her with their hands clasped. After a moment she set her head on his chest and he let go of her hand to pull her close. “I miss having a heartbeat.”

“Soothing, is it?” he asked.

“Yes.” She slid her arm around his waist and stayed close. “Is grá geal mo chroí thú, fan liom i gconaí” she began to sing. He’d never heard her sing before, but especially in Gaelic, and her voice was stunningly beautiful. “Is grá geal mo chroí thú, beith mise dílis. Is grá geal mo chroí thú, tusa mo mhuírín. Is grá geal mo chroí thú--”

“Fan ar mo thaobh sa” they finished together, his voice a bit rustier than he’d hoped. He tightened his hold on her. It wasn’t a traditional ballad but it was something he knew, something he was familiar with enough to catch a hint of the meaning. A song about Fionn MacCumhal following Niamh of the golden hair to Tir na nÓg, and when he returned to Ireland he was an old man. It was a song about love, the love between two people and…

He gave in to the urge to kiss her softly, nudging her head up to do so, and she smiled against his lips. He knew then that whatever was going on in her world, he was more a part of it than he had ever planned, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

Chapter Text

It was daylight the next time they woke up. There had been more kissing, more cuddling, but nothing more than that. He wasn’t the least bit disappointed; as she had said, she knew him, and she had to have known as much as he wanted her physically, there would be a slow, steady stream to how this relationship developed. It was going to be lopsided, of course, with her being more than human but also a vampire and him just human, but he figured they would make it work.

They usually did with whatever problems presented themselves. Despite the fact he was her master, they were more a team than anything else.

Her head was on his chest and he was on his back, her body absolutely still. No fake breathing, no heartbeat, absolute stillness. But warm...he never noticed that she was never cold like vampires were. There had to be something flowing through her veins that wasn’t blood but similar to make her warm.

One day he might get answers, but while he could lay here in the glowing warmth of morning, he wanted to plot a few things out in the quiet.

He’d had no idea if Jim ever let her take care of the business Holmes had her on. Her relationship with him had been very different when Jim was around. They’d acknowledged each other, but really, in their own way they were both Jim’s treasured pets and pets didn’t play together. There were times he had dealt with her on business, giving her the bits of information Jim gave him to pass on, and then she would go away, come back bruised and sore and go off to be taken care of. And he would take care of other things in between being Jim’s favorite walking talking blood bag.

He had no doubt Jim had been absolutely bonkers. But he took good care of him so he’d been...maybe not grateful, but appreciative. He hadn’t had the best of discharges from the army, so that had been a burden. He’d considered working as a freelance assassin, but that was an iffy, risky job. He still didn’t know quite how he’d ended up in Jim’s orbit, but working for an undead crime lord had been a job, as simple as that, and it paid well. His own savings had been measurable before Jim’s fortune was added to it. He didn’t have to do what he did now, but he used his money to make sure people like him, the ones with no real prospects, were taken care of.

He’d always had too much heart to be a psychopath, Jim had said.

They always had Molly training people, new baristas flitting in and out as they needed to. Sometimes the till might be a little short but not often, and usually because the employees gave a few quid to the humans down on their luck, not because they were stealing from him for their own gain. It was the kind of place he’d wanted when he was a kid and a teenager to be...around, at least.

And now there might be a threat to it.

Molly never disputed her duties, whatever they were, that Holmes took her on. But the idea that Holmes and Molly were different, that freedom wasn’t good for “her kind,” made him wonder: what exactly was Molly? What were her duties? Why was she not wanted among her kind?

“You’ve always guessed I was a Brownie of sorts,” Molly murmured, her lips near his chest. "You were right...sort of."

“And apparently psychic,” he said, grinning slightly.

She shifted and moved, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him. “I’m a bastard fae princess,” she said simply. "My father is Fae royalty, my mother was of Brownie lineage who worked among the kitchen staff. She died giving birth to me and my father took me and raised me among his own children.” She began to run a finger lightly along his skin. “Fae children are rare, but my father had two others. Sherlock is one of them, so he’s more my half-brother than anything else. He’s also my self-appointed protector.”

Moran nodded slightly. “But neither of you were vampires, originally.”

“No, that’s...his fault,” she said softly. “We were caught unaware in the human world. Turned together. Sherlock escaped, and then tried to rescue me, but I was the one he had wanted all along. He knew my lineage. He knew he could control me.”

He tightened his hold around her as she drew more intricate patterns on his skin. “And that’s why you gave him up.”

She nodded, digging her chin into him a bit with each nod. “Yes. He was a threat to the world, mine and yours and everyones. He needed to be stopped. I gave my half-brother the information he needed to challenge him and then...” She stopped her hand movements. “I know you don’t want to be my master but I’m glad he gave me to you. You were always kind, Sebastian, far kinder than he had any right to try and temper out of you.” She moved forward, covering him slightly until her face hovered above his. “And while I might be yours in that way, you’re almost mine, too.”

“Am I?” he asked, running his hand up into her hair and tangling his fingers in it.

She nodded. “We’ll be safe, I hope,” she said, leaning closer, her lips just barely above his. “You and me and Sherlock and all of this. We’ll be safe.”

“Good,” he said before pulling her in and kissing her again. Some questions were answered though some remained, but he would wait. Eventually, it would all become clear, he knew that.

Chapter Text

“She chose you.”

Seb looked up a few days later to see Holmes sitting on one of the barstools at the counter in front of him. He moved on the wind and yet again surprised Seb by how damn quietly he moved. “Your sister? Yeah.” He waited to see if he was corrected.

“So she told you,” Sherlock said with a nod.

“She said half-sister. I said sister. I see how you two are.” Sherlock, for the first time, gave him a faint smile. It didn’t suit on his face with the fangs being slightly visible, but it was better than a sneer or a look of annoyance. “Do you need her? She’s upstairs, saying I’m a slob.”

“Are you?”

“No. But she’s Brownie, it’s a thing. I have a spring cleaning up there every month, courtesy of Molly.”

“Actually, I wanted to speak to you. In private?” Sherlock said.

“Are you going to warn me against hurting her? Because I won’t.”

“I know because you’re her owner and if you were anything like the bastard, you’d have hurt her already. She’s happy. I want to ensure it stays that way, and if she won’t give you full details, I will.”

“No, Sherlock.” Both men turned to see Molly emerge behind Seb. “I’ll tell him. It’s gotten worse, hasn’t it?”

Sherlock nodded. “Our father is dying. There’s going to be a play made soon and my mother wants to ensure neither of us wants to make a claim so that her precious child can rule.”

“You mean so she can rule in his stead,” Molly said with a glare.

“I take it neither of you has fond feelings towards her?” Seb asked.

“Best spoken about in private. Your cafe has ears. Upstairs...not so much,” Sherlock said.

“I made sure of it,” Molly added. She reached over for Seb’s hand and the two of them headed up the stairs once Seb got someone else to cover the counter, with Sherlock following them. Once they were upstairs, Molly and Seb sat on his bed and Sherlock pulled over a chair from the table. “I suppose we should start from the beginning?”

“What does he know?” Sherlock asked.

“That I’m a half-Brownie bastard princess, we’re related…that’s about the minimum.” She let go of Seb’s hand and wrapped her arms around her knees, which she pulled up to her chest. “Sherlock and I have never been entirely sure our half-brother is related to me.”

It took Seb a moment to realize what she meant. “So she had affairs too.”

“And not in our court, from rumours I’ve heard,” Sherlock said. “We’re considered Seelie Court; she had dalliances with our enemies in the Unseelie Court. Molly and I are looked down upon for having been turned, but both of us are looked at, by some members of the Seelie Court, as being more suited for the throne than our brother. He is young and impressionable and seems to be kind, but my mother would rule in his stead for a time and bend and mold him to her ways. And we think it won’t be good.”

“I personally am quite happy with my life here,” Molly said. “Once ownership is given the only thing that can break it is death. I can have ownership passed from one person to another, and only when my current owner dies I’m free. So that doesn’t really make me a good ruler since even though you’re benevolent, you’re still human and looked down upon by most of our kind.”

“Especially considering your association with the bastard,” Sherlock added.

Molly nodded. “Sherlock has made no formal claim for the throne, but he has support not only of most of the advisors but our father as well. It just matters what happens before he dies.”

“If my mother can stage a coup then the entire Seelie Court is in danger. So I’m having to step away from my role as Molly’s protector and keep her safe from afar. We need you to do more of the heavy lifting, so to speak.” Sherlock leaned back. “But the danger is far greater because even though most assume I’ll make a claim for the throne, technically, Molly can too if you die. That puts you in danger, especially since she’s chosen you as her mate.”

Molly reached over with one hand and held Seb’s. “I’ll take care of as much as we can and call in favours for what I can’t, but we need to be careful.”

“We will,” Seb said, pulling her hand up to kiss it softly. He then turned to Sherlock. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Alright,” Sherlock said with a nod. “I need to go back Underhill, but I’ll keep you both informed of how our father is doing and when you should prepare for a final visit.”

“Is that a good idea?” Seb asked.

“I want to say good-bye,” Molly said.

“We’ll figure something out, then.” He squeezed her hand and looked up to see Sherlock had left just as silently as he had arrived. “You know, I hate it when he does that.”

“He does it specifically to piss you off,” Molly said, giving him a tiny smile.

He moved closer and put an arm around her shoulder after letting go of her hand and she leaned into him. “Let’s just stay up here till the night crowd comes in. I think we need to make plans.”

“And cuddle?”

He pressed a kiss into her head. “That too, my little cat.” He shut his eyes. “That too...”

Chapter Text

Things were quiet on the Sherlock front, but there was a sense of restlessness among the customers. Sebastian was wondering if it was safe to have Molly work the counter, or even work at all, but she had laughed and said she’d been made to find someone to lay protective wards all around the property. If anyone tried to harm them there, they’d find themselves flung hundreds of miles away into the Atlantic Ocean.

That made him feel a bit better, but he knew magic was malleable. What could be done in a split second of violence could also have drastic effects. Someone could shoot an iron bullet into Molly from afar. He’d been a sniper; he knew it could be done. So while he worried less about violence on the cafe property or in Molly’s area of the property, it didn’t stop him from worrying about her.

Still, he knew people and he could call in favours, too. Just because he was human didn’t mean he didn’t have fae contacts from his time with Jim. Most would rather willingly do something for him for whatever the appropriate payment for the service was than have Jim take their services and hurt them in the bargain. He had always understood that a bit of honey could get far more on your side that abject violence.

And it had gotten him killed.

Still, he was thankful, even if the situation was even more dire than before. He had Molly in his bed when he slept, not that anything more had happened. But even as cold as she was there was a peculiar warmth there. Maybe he was giving her his own heat, he didn’t know, but he never felt cold with her by his side. It was rather nice, considering he had spent a good majority of his adult life sleeping alone in bed or used for sexual satisfaction and then tossed aside. He would never do that to Molly because he loved her. And if the hurts that had been inflicted on her kept their relationship from progressing any further physically, so be it. As long as she was there and happy and caring about him, that was all he cared about.

It was a week after Sherlock’s visit that he noticed the crowd in the cafe was especially somber. He had guessed that her father was near death and it would be time for Molly to go Underhill to pay her respects and say her good-byes. Sure enough, she left his apartment upstairs and went to her home, and the next time he saw her was in the doorway of the cafe in finery he’d never seen her wear before, all in black. The chattering of customers stopped completely as she moved through the crowd to get to him. “I need to go,” she said.

“Then I’m coming with you,” he said.

She looked like she might want to argue, but then she nodded. “Alright. But take human food with you; if you eat or drink anything Underhill, you may not be able to leave, and I can’t stay there. It would be the death of me.”

“Give me a minute, and then we can go,” he said. He looked over at his assistant baker, a small fae woman who had left Underhill after turning down the attentions of an Unseelie fae. “You’re in charge till I get back. Anything strange happens, call Gregorio.” The fae nodded and he went into the kitchen, grabbing a rucksack and tossing in food that he knew would last, and then went back out. Molly reached for his hand and he took it. “Let’s go.”

Chapter Text

He had never gone Underhill before. When he’d had business to attend to with the fae, it had always been done in London proper or later at the cafe, which he supposed was a place of neutral ground. So he wasn’t at all surprised to find a warded opening behind Molly’s home and Sherlock waiting for them in his own version of fae finery, also all in black. “How long does he have?” Molly asked her half-brother.

“Hours, maybe a day. Those monitoring his care aren’t sure.” He had a light sword at his waist that Seb assumed was made of something other than iron. “He’s not going to be safe.”

“Who, our father or Seb?” she asked.

“Both, if I’m to be honest. But mostly our father. If she has plans, she’s going to want to implement them sooner rather than later. I’ve been playing the political claim to strengthen my claim to the throne. I have most of his advisors on my side. Your support...”

“You have it,” Molly said. “Just try and help me keep Seb safe as well.”

“He’ll need a change of clothing,” Sherlock said. “You have that?”

“I can magick it up,” she said. “Brownie magic can be a wonderful thing.”

“You always were good at the practical bits,” Sherlock said with a smile. “Father has been reminding us of that. I think...I know he cares for all three of us but I almost think he wishes you would take the throne.”

“I’d be no good as a ruler, not when my heart belongs to a human and my place in the world is close to hearth and home.” She squeezed Seb’s hand. “And not when I’m a magicked vampire. You know that would go over so well.”

“But you were always Father’s favourite,” Sherlock said. “And he’s missed you.”

The look on her face softened. “I know.”

He saw the glimmer of the light reflecting off the sight of the gun before he heard the crack of the shot and shoved Molly to the ground roughly as he stepped in the way of the bullet. He’d been right, after all; a sniper shot, probably with cold iron for the bullet. He wasn’t sure; he was human and it was affecting him totally differently.

But if this was his way to go, at least he’d saved her.

“Get her...Underhill,” he said to Sherlock, staggering back.

“Not without you!” Molly cried out in anguish as Sherlock began pulling her towards the entrance. “Sebastian!”

He slumped against the rock, slowing his breath. Abdominal shot, not well made but still deadly. He’d die a slowish death unless he was shot again, which was always an option. With trouble he got the gun he carried in his shoulder holster and pulled it out, ready to spend his last breath keeping her safe…

...and then he was being picked up and he was almost nose to nose with Sherlock. “Thoughts on vampirism?” Sherlock asked.

“Personally?” Seb asked, coughing. Some blood landed on his shirt.

“She’ll turn you if you want. It’s not the easiest life, but we have something that will let you out in the day that fae use. Works well on vampires. I...would rather have you keep her safe, even after.” He paused. “Especially after.”

“Turn me,” he said.

“I’ll tell her,” he said, and soon he blacked out, but not before he felt himself set down in the dark and a kiss pressed against his temple. It wasn’t what he wanted at all, but if it would keep Molly safe...he’d do whatever it took to do that.

Chapter Text

Hunger. He’d never felt so empty before, but as soon as he groaned there was his head being lifted and something pressed against his lips. He wanted to spit it out because he knew what the coppery taste of blood was more intimately than he’d liked, but he drank every last drop. It didn’t taste quite the same, not coppery but something else.

“Will that do the trick?” he heard Sherlock ask.

“It should,” he heard an unfamiliar voice say. “But your fates will be bound, young man. He’ll have to feed on the fae for the rest of his existence, but he’ll always crave your blood most of all.”

“There could be worse fates,” he heard Sherlock say, his voice half a murmur, half grumbling. “He’s keeping Margaret safe.”

“Yes, which is the only reason I cast the spell in the first place. But he’ll be much like her, which will help. But stronger, like you, William.”

“And he can leave Underhill?” he heard Molly ask as he felt his head being set in a lap of some sort and Molly’s smooth hands caressing his face. He’d know her touch anywhere, even half-dead and half-blood starved.

“Yes. He’s got William’s blood flowing through him as his first feeding, so it’s not the same as if he was still human and ate something he shouldn’t. He can come and go as he pleases with you.” There was a pause. “You’re free now, you know. His mortal death freed the bond.”

“I still love him,” she said. “Bonded to him by the bastard or not, I didn’t want to lose Seb.”

“You didn’t,” Seb groaned.

“Gunshot wounds are a might uncomfortable, aren’t they?” the unfamiliar voice said with a soft chuckle. “You’ve had enough experience with them, I imagine.”

“More than enough,” Seb said. “But this time...was worth it.” He felt exhaustion overtake him again and his world slowly felt colder, his limbs losing the warmth the blood had given him.

“He’s going to drift off, but the two of you had best see your father. He doesn’t have much longer, but with the news that someone tried to kill his daughter, I think he’s going to hold on just a bit longer. Not much, but enough.”

And then, there was darkness until he woke up again, this time in a bed of some sort. He wasn’t alone, and he would recognize Molly’s curves anywhere. She had on far less clothing than she usually favoured at the shop, just a simple slip that felt like gossamer but covered more than he had thought it would. She pressed a kiss to his temple. “Still hungry?”

He shook his head, missing the warmth already. Missing the sound and feel of his heartbeat. But he was here with her and they were both alive, and that was what mattered most. “At least, not for blood.”

She gave him a small smile. “If you need me, I’m willing.”

“Not like this,” he said. “I’d hurt you.”

“I’m tougher than I look, Seb. Brownies always are.”

He shook his head. “No. Just...”

This time she nodded. “Then let me alleviate some of what I know is building up inside you. I remember when I turned and...what was done.”

“Molly,” he began.

“I promise, you won’t hurt me, but you can kiss me,” she said, letting her hand slide between them. He realized then he was in clothing similar to what Sherlock had worn, and he’d been divested of his pants when he’d been changed. Probably had blood on them, but it left nothing stopping her hand from grasping his cock, encircling it as a moan came up from low in his throat. She nuzzled his neck and eventually their lips met as she stroked him. He hadn’t realized he could even get an erection without blood flowing in his veins, but then the feel of her thumb running over the tip of his cock caused him to bite her lip, piercing them with his fangs.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, but she merely licked her lips as nothing came up.

“I’ll heal,” she said, beginning to bring him to pleasure. He didn’t want their first time to be like this, so it was all he could do not to push her onto the bed and take her the way he’d dreamed. He knew he needed to be more in control or he would hurt her and regret it, and that would build a wall between them.

This, though...as he spilled his seed on the inside of the silken trousers and her hand and felt himself grow limp, he realized she had done him a favour by giving him this release. He pulled away from the kiss and rested his forehead in the crook of her neck.

“I’m so sorry, Seb,” she said. “I know this...you’d never have wanted this...”

“If you say you were selfish for turning me I’ll stop eating your tarts,” he murmured, and a bubbled up breathy laugh came from her. “I was willing to die for you. I still am. But I can keep you safe.” He pressed a kiss to her collarbone. “And I will.”

“I know,” she said, pressing a kiss in her hair. “Sleep now. You’ll feel better the next time you wake up. And I may even enjoy giving you a sponge bath before I change your clothing.”

“Too bad I won’t be awake to remember it.”

“We’ll have better baths together in the future.” There was another kiss as he felt his stamina leave him. “Sleep now, Sebastian. It’s time for me to take care of you.” And so, sleep he did.

Chapter Text

When he woke up again he was hungry, but not nearly as much as before. He was also alone, which worried him. He’d never been Underhill before and never been around any fae royalty other than Molly and Sherlock. But almost as if his thoughts were being red, a brownie came into the room and smiled at him. She was much shorter than Molly, with wrinkled skin that looked as if it had been sun touched, as the woman was brown as a nut. “You’re awake,” she said, and he realized she was the one whose voice he’d heard after he’d had his first feeding.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I was right; her father is fighting to stay alive, at least long enough to meet the man who saved his daughter.” She came over with a glass and shoved it towards his mouth, and he realized it was more blood of the fae. Sherlock’s to be precise; he had the feeling he would know it by scent from here on out. “You need to feed for a bit, first. We’re doing it in stages to keep you used to small feedings over time. Eventually, you’ll only need fae blood for one meal a day, and not to the death of the fae. You can supplement with the substitute Molly uses for small pick-me-ups.”

He nodded and began to drink. Once the cup was empty he noticed his new fangs were down. “How do I fix this?” he asked, gesturing to his mouth area.

“Molly can teach you that,” she said. “I’m only a brownie, all I know is hearth and healing magic.” She gave him a smile. “Molly would be my granddaughter, by the way, on her mum’s side. You may call me Moira.”

“Sebastian,” he said.

“I know. She’s talked about you, long before you were bonded to her. She’s had a mighty fine taste in clothing over the years, at least with Elven finery, and I think the outfit she’s changed you into will suit for a walk around the grounds.”

“Is it safe?” he asked.

“You’re in Sherlock’s abode for the moment. He had brought Molly’s and my kin here when it appeared we were among those being targeted when the king’s health declined. We have the means to keep you safe.” She motioned for him to stand up. “She’ll join us for dinner tonight. You can still eat the human food you brought, but with the spell cast on you and the fact Sherlock’s blood was what you tasted first, you can eat elven food just fine and still go back and forth. Molly’s been puttering in the kitchens so I’m sure you’ll enjoy the meal tonight.” She smiled at him and then grasped his hand. Despite having wrinkled hands, her grip was firm and soft, and even though her hands were small she was able to pull him with a great deal of strength.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“Sherlock wants to talk to you. I think he’s got a plan on how to keep the bastard from taking the throne. My money is on him using your newfound strength to help.” She looked up at him. “Hopefully it will work. I’d rather be ruled by Sherlock than that wicked woman under the guise of the bastard.”

Seb nodded and let her pull him along. He wasn’t sure how involved he wanted to get in what could be a civil war, but if it meant in the end that Molly could be safe and they could go back to the cafe and live the rest of their existence in peace, so be it.

Chapter Text

He had a little experience with fae flora, having been in Molly’s cottage and seeing the plants she grew there, but it was nothing compared to the garden in Sherlock’s compound. There was a table and chair set there, and Sherlock was waiting with food that he recognized as some he had brought with him, and a few things he suspected Molly had made. If she was worried about her father he imagined she was stress baking as much as possible.

“It’s safe for you to eat, all of it,” Sherlock said. “The nectar is safe for you to drink as well. Molly has a fondness for human food so I always have some on hand for when she needs to attend to business with me.”

“She makes good food,” Seb said, sitting in the open chair once Molly’s grandmother left the two of them alone.

“She does,” Sherlock said. “I think you having her at the coffee shop was the best thing you could have done for her.”

“Even though the bastard was...well, a bastard, I think he knew I wanted a simple life, and if Molly was mine, the coffee shop would be best.” He took a sip of the nectar, tasting notes of guava and mango and other things he couldn’t name. “She’s free, though, now. Isn’t she?”

“She is, which puts her in more danger than before,” Sherlock said. “Not that I begrudge her for turning you, nor do I imagine you mind?”

Seb shook his head. “I wasn’t ready to leave her.”

“And now you won’t.” Sherlock was quiet as he had some of his own drink. “I’m going to take the throne. By force, if necessary. The attempt on your life was a sign that my brother being on the throne will be a danger to us all. But I need Molly to formally relinquish all claim to the throne. And I need you to...help.”

“Brute strength?” Seb asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sherlock shook his head and reached for a silk-wrapped item in the seat between them. He handed it to Seb, and Seb unwrapped it, keeping the silk as a buffer between what he suspected the item was and his skin, just in case. He knew silk was an insulator of sorts for the fae.

Sure enough, his gun that he’d had on him was wrapped in the silk, and he hesitantly touched it, but felt no pain that a fae would. He could see Sherlock breathe a sigh of relief. “You are far more powerful than either Molly or I are, in that you don’t seem to have a problem touching cold iron. You have the benefits of humans, fae and vampire and none of the side-effects.”

“So you want me to put my sniper skills to use and kill the Queen?”

“Only if she tries anything. She is still...family.” He said that last word as though he was spitting it out. “If she leaves and goes to her lovers in their kingdom and vows to leave us in peace, I’ll train my brother to take my place when it’s my time to stop ruling. Molly and yourself can go back to the land of the humans and you should be safe, but even if there’s a threat, I think you can adequately take care of the both of you and those in your employ.”

He looked down at the gun in his hand. “This won’t suffice for a sniper job.”

“I'll have something more appropriate being brought in for you,” he said.

Seb was quiet for a moment. “Does your father know you’re doing this? That you may kill his wife to keep her off the throne?”

He nodded. “It was his idea. He knows the woman she is. He doesn’t want her ruling in his stead. If it means the line dies with me, so be it. My brother may seek revenge if his mother is killed and if that’s the case...he can be killed too.”

“You are a cold-hearted bastard sometimes,” Seb said, shaking his head and re-wrapping the gun. “But I don’t kill kids.”

“I know. I’ll take care of it on my own, should there be a need. But the Queen…?”

Seb nodded. “Get me a sniper rifle, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Sherlock gestured to the food. “Molly will be upset if we don’t eat.”

“Does she know?” he asked, picking up the nectar again.

“She does. She’s not happy, but she’s done worse. She had just hoped it would all be behind her by now with the death of the bastard.”

“Didn’t we all,” Seb murmured as he took a sip of the nectar. He wanted this to end well and with as little violence as possible, but he had the feeling that might not be the case.

Chapter Text

They made it through dinner and he could tell Molly wasn’t in the best of moods, but when he was led back to his room after another chat with Sherlock, he wasn’t surprised to see Molly there, curled up in his bed, still dressed in a shimmering simple gown, though this was much shorter. She wasn’t wearing knickers, and he could see the curly hair at the apex of her thighs when she shifted. “You agreed?” she asked.

“To do whatever it takes to get your half-brother the throne and keep you safe,” he said. She softened her look at him, and he took off his shirt and then his trousers and got into bed with her. “I will always do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“I know.” She let her fingers run along the muscles on his chest, absently resting over his now silent heart for a moment before sliding down and around his waist to be as close to him as possible. “You know I can keep you safe, too.”

“I know. I’ve never underestimated your strength,” he said with a small smile. He pulled her hand up from around his waist and kissed the underside of her wrist, watching as she shut her eyes. “You should bring this nightgown back to the cafe when this is all over. I approve.”

“So we’re going to go back?” she asked.

“If that’s what you want. We can move into the cottage or stay above the shop. We can bring your grandmum if she wants to be with us. I just want to make you happy.” He pressed another kiss lower on her wrist.

“You’ve always made me happy,” she said, her tone contented. She pulled her hand from his light grip and moved her hand lower, her fingertips lightly ghosting on his skin until she got to his cock. “Do you feel more in control?”

“I’ve just wanted to bury myself in you since we sat down for dinner,” he admitted. “Is that a vampire thing?”

“I think it’s just a little bit of that. But I want you too, Seb. I know you would rather have been more gentlemanly about it, but please. I want you too.” She moved her body over him, gently pressing him onto his back as she kissed him, straddling him after a moment.

He was hard at her touch and soon she was pulling away from the kiss, positioning his cock at her entrance and lowering herself onto it, taking her time to move on him up and down. He grasped her hips when it started to get torturous and she took him deeper as he gently guided her. With her hands free, she pulled her nightgown off and tossed it aside. She leaned back, taking him in at a new position as he pistoned his hips up. He could feel that she was wet around him and he moved two fingers to her wet core and felt for the nub of flesh to give her pleasure. He didn’t care if he got his rocks off, not yet, he just wanted to give her a release comparable to the one she had given him the night before.

She started to convulse around his cock, her breathing hitching as she breathed out his name, and it was as sweet as the pastries she made, maybe even sweeter. Before he allowed himself his release, he pulled her forward and rolled them over, his cock still inside her, and they repositioned themselves so he was on top. He entered her with long, deep strokes and pulled one of her legs up to hook her ankle over his shoulder.

“Seb!” she said with a shout as she came again and only then did he allow himself to come inside her. At the very least they didn’t need to worry about pregnancy, just a mess. Though that was something he’d ponder about later, just what they were capable of, being what they were with how she was turned and what he fed on.

He ended up collapsing on top of her, pressing soft kisses to the side of her face and her clavicle as she ran her hands up and down his back. “That was good,” he said. “Better than good, even.”

“I haven’t had better,” Molly said. “If I’d known, I would have just seduced you much earlier.”

“I’d have tried to be all gentlemanly about it,” he said.

“I can be persuasive,” she said with a smile as she looked at him before kissing him deeply. “I think we could take a bath and clean up. This room always had a large tub.”

“Bath sounds good,” he said before he kissed her again. Even with what was going to happen, and the sadness and madness that could surround them for a time, this moment? This moment was absolutely perfect, and he wanted it to last as long as possible.

Chapter Text

He spent a peaceful night with Molly naked in his arms, and in the morning he woke up to an erection and Molly’s lips around it, sucking and licking as she used her hand. Before he came he pushed her off and decided to try something different with her, having her kneel on the edge of the bed and taking her from behind. She buried her head into the mattress when she came, a litany of what seemed like naughty words in the Fae language streaming from her mouth. It was music to his ears and he wanted to learn those words, learn how to speak her own language, learn what she liked and what she didn’t, and have more mornings like this.

They got dressed as there was a knock at the door, and Sherlock was there. “Moran, our father wants to meet you,” he said softly. “He doesn’t have much longer.”

Seb nodded and adjusted the tunic he had changed into. “Alright.”

“Does he want me there?” Molly asked.

“Yes, but first he wants to speak to him alone.” Molly moved to her half-brother and embraced him, beginning to sob. Sherlock comforted her and then nodded for Seb to go with Moira, who was standing nearby. Seb didn’t feel jealous that Molly had gone to Sherlock for comfort; if time was of the essence, he needed to meet the king now and not wait. They would be there soon enough.

“He knows you will protect her. She has talked about you much, in many good ways,” Moira said, patting Seb’s hand. “Just be honest about your intentions. They are honorable, aren’t they?”

“I have no idea what the fae do when it comes to marriage but yeah, my intentions are honorable,” Seb said. “I don’t want to be separated from her. She’s my future.”

“Good, good.” Moira let go of his hand. “We approve of you, her maternal kin. You saved her, from more than just the bullet. You saved her from him who will not be named.”

“She did that herself,” he pointed out.

“But your friendship kept her from doing anything drastic,” she said. “We would have mourned her loss for centuries to come, had she taken her own life.”

He was surprised. He had known she wasn’t happy with the bastard, but he hadn’t known she had been suicidal. “I will make sure she’s happy and healthy and as whole as she can be.”

“You are a good man, then, Sebastian. I think the king will be most pleased.” They made their way to the edge of Sherlock’s compound in silence and she opened a door to a waiting carriage. He got into the carriage, which seemed to have no driver and no horses pulling it, and as soon as the door shut behind him the carriage took off at what felt like a breakneck pace. Eventually, the carriage stopped and the door was opened. He saw a well-dressed attendant there and he stepped down from the carriage. Compared to the attendant, he was in plain clothing, but he had the feeling that was best; if he’d been dressed in the type of finery Sherlock had been in when he’d taken the two of them Underhill he thought that would give the wrong sort of impression.

The attendant led him into what he assumed was the sick quarters of the king, not a part of the main castle keep but nearby, and the attendant stopped and opened a door eventually, gesturing for him to step inside. The king was on an ornate bed, and the closer he got the more he could see that whatever it was that was killing the king, it was probably deliberately done. “You see,” the king said, his voice gravelly and broken as he coughed.

“This isn’t natural, is it?” Seb asked.

“No. It’s a magicked illness. A magicked poison, so to speak.” He beckoned for Seb to come closer. “It’s not contagious. No one else in my presence will catch this curse. But I want to meet the man my daughter loves. See him with my own eyes.”

Seb moved closer until he was next to the king. There were purpling lesions on his face and body, and his limbs looked as though they were in some sort of rigor mortised state, where he could barely move them. “Can you see me?” Seb asked.

“I can,” The king said, giving the barest inclination of his head. His limbs were twisted and immobile but his eyes seemed to take in everything they could see. “She loves a good man, despite your shared pasts. Both of you have done horrible things, more against your will than by choice. But you have saved her, and she has saved you.”

“Sherlock turned me,” he said.

“At her request.”

“Yes.”

“You will love her until the end of time, I can see that. The way I loved her mother...” He trailed off for a moment. “Kill the wench who did this to me if she takes aim at my son. I know her child is not of my loins, though he is kind. She is evil incarnate. Save the boy. Save Sherlock. And keep Molly safe.”

“You have my word,” Seb said. “I’ll do what needs to be done.”

“Take the blessings I have decided should be bestowed on you,” he said, his finger moving just slightly to a chest on a chair. “In thanks and to help you when you go back to the land above. My daughter loves her life there. Make sure she can keep it for as long as possible.”

Seb nodded and the king shut his eyes. He moved to the chest. It was quite large, but he managed to pick it up as though it was as light as a feather, and he turned to leave. The king had another wracking coughing fit as Seb tapped the chest against the door, and he hoped that Molly and Sherlock got there soon. He would wait until their visit was over to open this.

Chapter Text

He was taken back to Sherlock’s compound and led to his room. Molly and Sherlock were nowhere in sight, and he set the chest on the bed, running a hand over it but not opening it. It could wait for Molly to return, and depending on what her mood was, they could open it then or wait.

It was sometime later when the door opened and Sherlock led a sobbing Molly into the room, leading her to Sebastian, who took her, pulling her into his lap. “Is he…?” Seb asked.

Sherlock nodded. “He took his last breath with us.”

“It was deliberate, you know.”

“Yes, I know, now. I am berating myself for not realizing it earlier.”

“He feels your half-brother should be saved,” Seb said. “I’ll take care of the Queen if it comes to that, but I won’t off him. You think he doesn’t deserve to live, you find someone else willing to kill him. Molly and I are going to go back above and live our lives as we want to.”

Sherlock nodded again. “I understand. But...allow her to visit?”

“She doesn’t belong to me anymore. If she wants to see you, I won’t stop her. I’ll never stop the two of you from seeing each other if that’s what she wants.”

“You are a good man,” he said softly.

“I’m not. I just try to be better for her.” He pressed a kiss to Molly’s hair and then began to focus on her, letting Sherlock know with no words that he could leave now. Sherlock did just that and Molly curled into him more. “I’m sorry.”

“He...he gave me a dress to wear. When we...” Molly chocked out a sob. “It was deliberate! She did it on purpose! I should kill her with my own bare hands.”

“I’ll take care of her if it needs to happen,” he said, running a hand down her back. “No more blood on your hands, love.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, lifting her head up to kiss his cheek. She settled into him after that and he gently rocked her. “Did my father give you that chest?”

Seb nodded. “I was waiting to open it until you got back if you were in the mood.”

She pulled away, wiping her eyes. “I want to see what he gave you.”

“Alright,” he said as she got off his lap. He opened the chest and saw heaps of jewels and Fae gold at the chest, as well as an outfit of Fae finery that was gold with silver embroidery in such a fine hand that he had never seen before. And nestled on top of that was a sniper rifle and a silk pouch he guessed held cold iron bullets. “There must be other Fae who can handle cold iron.”

“My father could,” she said. “He had a fascination with human weaponry that the other Fae couldn’t use. It’s why I can briefly touch some of the cast iron pots and pans without serious harm. Brownies usually can handle some cold iron if they’re bonded to a home, but they wear silk gloves. Because of my father, I don’t always need them. It just stings a bit if I hold on too long.”

“And Sherlock didn’t inherit the gift?”

“No, and neither did my half-brother.” She shook her head. “I mean, Sherlock’s half-brother. We know now that I’m not related to him.” He closed the chest and then pulled her close again. “When this is all over, the cottage...could we live there?”

“Absolutely,” Seb said, nodding as he looked up at her. “We can rent out the upper apartment to one of the staff if needed. Or use it for storage.”

“Good,” she said. She framed his face in her hands. “I want a future with you. I know...I know I can never give you children, but perhaps we can take in foundlings or something. I mean, if you would like.”

“I would love to have some sort of family with you,” he said, and she gave him a soft but bright smile before leaning in and kissing him softly, then pulling away and clambering onto his lap again. He held her close and took in her scent and shut his eyes. They would have a future together, and he would do whatever it took to ensure it.

Chapter Text

Sherlock had been announced as the heir to the throne, and he had closeted himself in his compound until the coronation ceremony, with Sebastian and Molly staying there as well. Molly was going to wear her own finery in an aubergine color trimmed with black and silver, the colors her brother favoured when he wasn’t in human clothing. Seb wasn’t going to be at the ceremony and would be wearing dark colors to blend into the shadows; Sherlock had said he would send him off to the right place before the ceremony to get the area in his scope.

He had been right in that the silk pouch had bullets in it, and he had a few thoughts about just how his subjects might have felt with a king who could touch cold iron. Relieved? Scared? Aside from dalliances, he seemed to be a good ruler, and even his dalliances had ended with the death of Molly’s mother, according to Sherlock. They were all far older than he was, hundreds of years older, and he couldn’t imagine Molly mourning him for hundreds of more years if he had died when they made their way Underhill. He’d never let her feel as if she had made the wrong choice in having him turned.

The light in the kingdom worked in its own ways, and as the first light of dawn came to the compound he gently pried Molly off his chest and settled her on the mattress, still asleep, while he got up and changed into his dark clothing. When he got to the door that Moira had taken him to the day he met the King, Sherlock was there, and they moved to the vantage point he’d have to take up to make a shot if it was needed, if the Queen would not leave peacefully. Then he would lay there, perfectly still, letting his eyes adjust to the light and his body to the weight of an unfamiliar rifle until the coronation ceremony started.

“Remember, Sherlock,” he said as Sherlock went to the door. “Just the Queen.”

“Just the queen,” Sherlock said with a nod. He left then and Sebastian settled into his position and waited.

It took a few hours but the subjects of the King began to gather, and then at what he assumed was noon, at least according to the position of the light in the sky, the ceremony started. He couldn’t hear a word, being too far away, but he watched it all play out in his scope, making sure he could quickly focus on the Queen.

As he watched, though, he had the sinking suspicion he would not be pulling the trigger today.

His first glimpse of the bastard son was that he was very angry...and not with Sherlock or Molly. He seemed to be quite angry at his mum, who walked up to the terrace as though she knew it all would be hers with just a fell swoop of her forces. But as Sherlock got to the terrace and the crown was passed to an elderly Fae to put upon Sherlock’s head, the boy turned and stabbed a dagger into his mother’s chest. There was an outcry among the subjects he could visibly hear, and then the boy dropped to a knee and bowed in Sherlock’s direction. Sherlock went and put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and the boy stood, standing on the opposite side of Sherlock than Molly as Sherlock was crowned and a cheer went up among the subjects.

Seb pulled the rifle from its position and made his way to Sherlock’s compound, which it had been discussed would go to Molly for when she came Underhill, since her maternal family already resided there, and put the rifle in the chest. He planned on keeping it regardless if it was ever used for his intended purpose, and he waited for a moment to process what he had seen before changing into clothing matching Sherlock’s chosen colours and going to the gate for the waiting carriage.

When the carriage arrived at the palace he saw Molly smiling and chatting with the boy and he went up to join them. “Sebastian!” she called out, and she ran up to him and into his arms. She was already barefoot, he noticed, and he twirled her around. “I can’t believe...I mean, it was so unexpected...”

“I saw, but I could only hear the crowd’s reactions,” he said as he set her down. She reached for his hand and pulled her to the boy.

“Cedric, this is Sebastian, the man I love,” Molly said, bringing him over to Cedric. “Cedric had not been treated as well by his mother as it had been let on. His mother was a horrid horrid woman.”

“She only wanted the throne, and she was willing to use me up to get it,” Cedric said. He sounded young though if Seb had any real guesses he imagined Cedric was probably older than he was. “She told me she wanted to kill my siblings and they’re the only ones who have ever shown me kindness. I couldn’t let that stand. If I had to choose between her and them, they would win every time.”

“He pledged his loyalty to Sherlock, but we have talked and decided that, perhaps, if you’re willing...” Molly gestured away from the castle. “Cedric could stay with us for a time?”

“I have no interest in ruling right now. I’ve been a pawn in a game of politics I barely understood, but I want a life. And Sherlock will be good for the kingdom and the subjects, better than me.” Cedric looked up at Seb. “Plus I miss Molly’s cooking. May I stay with you? Please?”

Seb was surprised at how young Cedric sounded, and he found himself looking at two sets of wide eyes and quivering lips. “Why do you have to look so cute together?” he asked, rolling his eyes. Molly threw her arms around his neck and peppered his face with kisses. He had the feeling that his life was going to change tenfold, but if Molly was happy, he would be as well.

Chapter Text

It was a year later when he found himself back in Underhill for an extended length of time, this time for a wedding.

His.

He was wearing the finery that the King had given him before he passed, as he had assumed that was it’s intended use. He had not seen the dress that Molly had been given by her father in all the time they had spent together both Underhill in celebration of Sherlock’s coronation and above running the cafe and spending time acclimating Cedric to the human world.

It had taken some adjustment for him to get used to being a vampire. Thanks to the fae blood that flowed through his veins he was able to go out in the sun, though he needed to wear sunglasses as his eyes were too sensitive for the light now. He slept far less than he had before but most of the time he was in bed it was shared with Molly. They tended to be more involved in the cafe now that sleep wasn’t an issue, though they also spent as much time with Cedric as they could. His sleeping habits were tied around Cedric's, and it was nice to have that sense of normalcy to the situation.

But he had gone Underhill from time to time with Molly and Cedric to spend time with Sherlock, and when he had finally decided to propose to Molly Sherlock had given him the ring that his father had meant to give to Molly’s mother, an emerald surmounted by white stones that glistened more than diamond or opals on a gold-like band. Molly had cried while she had accepted his proposal and spent a full day just staring at the ring from time to time.

And even though she was a lesser royal, she was still Fae royalty, and that meant a big to do with the wedding. Thankfully Moira had taken charge of the planning and now here he was, feeling as though the collar was too tight as he waited with Sherlock by his side, watching Cedric walk down the aisle of the hall with the rings that they would be wearing once they were man and wife. Cedric winked at him and gave Seb his new favorite human gesture, the thumbs up. He relaxed slightly at that.

And then the music that was playing, which was unlike any wedding music he had heard, changed into a beautiful song that seemed more fitting than the wedding march humans used. “I composed this,” Sherlock said, barely moving his lips.

“A man of many talents,” Seb said back as Molly appeared at the other end of the hall. Seb’s breath was taken away. She was dressed in a pale green dress, almost the colour of sea foam, that was off the shoulders, and the sleeves went down to her elbows and then flowed lower past her hands, but slit to still show her forearms as she held a bouquet of yellow roses and baby's breath. Her jeweled decorations were all in gold: the wreath of leaves in her hair, a many circled necklace laid gently on her chest, not touching the lace on the bodice. On her hips was golden rope, intricately styled as it flowed down the front of her dress. Her hair was braided and flowed down her back. Her dress flowed as well, looking every inch a Fae princess.

“Our father gave her her own royal colours as a dying boon,” Sherlock said, but Seb barely heard him as he stared at the gorgeous woman coming towards him, a wide smile on his face. She got up to him and she had just as wide a grin on his face. “You look beautiful,” her half-brother said.

“Gorgeous,” Cedric added.

“Absolutely,” Seb said.

“Thank you,” Molly said, ducking her head down and blushing. Sherlock moved towards the center and Seb and Molly stood in front of him. He went on about marriage for a bit and then had the two of them take each other’s hands and say their vows. They had decided on a Celtic vow that had caught Molly’s fancy when they were looking for what to say. It wasn’t usually the way Fae usually got married, but then, there had to be at least a few concessions at their wedding.

“You cannot possess me for I belong to myself,” Seb said when it came time to start. “But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person, but I shall serve you in those ways you require, and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night, and the eyes into which I smile in the morning. I pledge to you the first bite of my meat and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care.” Molly's eyes started to tear up then, and she let go of his hand to take a small handkerchief she'd had near the bouquet of roses and dab at her eyes. “I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine. I shall not slander you, nor you me. I shall honor you above all others, and when we quarrel we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances. This is my wedding vow to you. This is the marriage of equals.”

Molly smiled, and she repeated those vows to him, stumbling just slightly over the “I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care” part. But when she was done, he raised her knuckles to his lips and kissed them softly. Then Cedric came up with the rings and Sherlock nodded to them.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Seb said, sliding the gold band onto Molly's finger, next to the engagement ring. Molly then took his ring off the cushion and slid his ring onto his finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Molly said, her smile the widest and brightest he had ever seen before.

“Now kiss!” Cedric said, causing Sherlock to glare at his brother by claim and Seb and Molly to laugh before Seb took Molly in his arms and kissed her soundly, dipping her as he did.

The assembled Fae in the hall cheered and Sherlock said, though no one could really hear him, “I pronounce you husband and wife.” But Seb didn’t need to hear it; he knew as soon as they kissed their fates were sealed together forevermore.