screaminglordbyronsecrets

[screaminglordbyronsecrets]

Down in the Underground, You'll Find Someone True [Jareth x Reader]

But down in the underground

You'll find someone true

Down in the underground

A land serene

A crystal moon----------

You woke up with a start. You had that dream again, the one in the maze -- the nightmare, with all the goblins and strange, puppet-looking creatures, and--

Him. The king of the goblins, the one with the big, spiky hair, the long black boots, and the tight, tight trousers.

The bed felt slightly wet beneath you. Shit. You rose hurriedly to shake the sheets a little and open the window.

Where had these dreams come from? It wasn't like -- as your dad warned when you were younger -- you'd been watching scary movies again, and were receiving nightmares as a result. Nor, as tradition holds, were you eating cheese too late in the evening. 

You thought you'd grown out of your overactive imagination. So why, all of a sudden, did this vivid labyrinthine setting, host of monsters, and very fully fleshed-out hero enter your subconscious every single night for the past few weeks?

You traced your mind back to anything from your youth, any childhood trauma that lurked beneath these images. Nope, nothing so specific as a goblin kingdom. 

Well, it was just past 9; you might has well have something to eat now that you were up. At least it was the weekend -- it's always worse trying to distract yourself from fantasies when you have study or work or places to be in the morning. 

Fantasy. Huh. That's exactly it. I mean, it's not exactly like these are total nightmares. The Goblin King is -- how shall we put it -- compelling...right?

You spilt your tea in your daydreaming. Fuck! That's hot. Right, something has to change. You can't be sweating in fright at trying to escape the maze every night, and lying drenched (perhaps for other reasons) remembering Him in the mornings.

That's when you spotted it. There, on your perfectly-arranged -- albeit overflowing -- bookshelf. An antique volume you'd never seen before. It was fairly small, with a dull, reddish leather binding. You took it down. On the cover, a two word title:

The Labyrinth

...

[to be continued]

[screaminglordbyronsecrets]

What is the meaning of 'Meleth nîn'?

Description:

It is the night after the wedding of Aragorn and Arwen; Gimli is thinking about love. More specifically, how Gimli is hopelessly in love with Legolas. The dwarf vows that he will try and tell the blonde elf how he feels - whatever the outcome.

Gimli sat outside looking at the stars. He had finally managed to get a moment to himself - as was difficult during the celebrations - and was thinking hard. For a long time, Gimli had suspected he had been beginning to garner romantic feelings for Legolas, the elf he had become very close to in the Fellowship. Today, after recalling nearly having a panic attack when losing him in the final battle, Gimli knew he was in too deep to get out.

He cursed in dwarvish.

'An elf! Of all the people I could have fallen in love with, I have fallen for a pointy-eared blonde.'

Gimli sighed, smiling, he pictured Legolas fighting. How graceful he was! Gimli muttered,

'I simply must tell him - even if he shuns me - I can't keep going on like this.'

Silent footsteps made their way towards him.

'Gimli, I didn't expect to see you here - meleth nîn!' Legolas smirked.

The dwarf jumped. 'You startled me, Legolas - how do you manage to be so quiet?'

Privately, Gimli thought about the elf's words -''meleth nîn' - that is what Aragorn calls Arwen.' Could it be possible that Legolas felt the same way about him?

Legolas looked concerned - 'You look troubled, Gimli. Pray, tell me what ails you.'

The elf rested his pale, slender hand on the dwarf's muscular arm.

Gimli shivered at the touch. He took a deep breath.

'I will admit there is something on my mind', Gimli confessed, and added:

'it has been for a while now.'

'You know you can tell me anything, meleth nîn.', Legolas assured the dwarf.

In his head Gimli exclaimed 'Again! He called me 'Meleth Nîn' again, that infernal phrase - I must get Aragorn to teach me some Elvish.'

To Legolas he simply said, 'I know that, I thank you for being such a loyal friend. It is just the...sensitivity of the topic. It could change things....'

The elf dismissed this concern: 'Change isn't always bad you know. I think, in life, one has to take some risks '

Gimli hurriedly agreed, 'I know that but-'

Gimli stopped mid-sentence, surprised by the sudden appearance of delicate fingers which danced across his cheek and then fell to brush the hair out of his face.

Continuing his combing, Legolas purred, 'I know how difficult it is to take risks. I will confess that I, too have been thinking something over that I have not been able to say.'

Gimli simply stared. Nervous now, Legolas hesitated and made to move his hand away from his friend; without stopping to think, Gimli grabbed it and held it in place.

The two just looked at each other, an uncomfortable silence came and settled itself around them like a cloak.

Finally, the dwarf swallowed and spoke up, praying that they were thinking the same: 'Perhaps, perhaps both of us would fare better if we spoke not with words, but with actions.'

Legolas nodded. He braved himself and, resting his hand behind Gimli's head moved closer to the dwarf. He looked into Gimli's eyes and then - all of a sudden - closed the gap between the two with a fleeting kiss. The kiss ended as abrubtly as it had begun and Legolas stepped back.

Gimli's head was spinning, the kiss was as brief and as light as the caress of a falling leaf. His eyes remained closed, endeavouring to etch the sensation in his memory forever.

Legolas, meanwhile, was biting his lip anxiously, wondering whether he had misjudged the situation entirely.

To the elf's surprise when Gimli opened his eyes at last - he smiled, saying - 'I think you managed to speak for both of us there, laddie.'

Legolas visibly relaxed and grinned but was immediately pulled forward by two strong hands which brought his face to Gimli's, who repeated the kiss - albeit with much more violence; desperation could be read in their movements - they both had imagined this moment for a long time. The love they held for each other had only increased as they continued their journey to Mordor and only now could their feelings be expressed - not in words but in grabs, gasps and moans.

'Meleth nîn means my love, by the way.', Legolas whispered in Gimli's ear.

'So that's what you were teasing me with!', Gimli boomed.

Legolas responded with a swift lick of Gimli's earlobe, eliciting a groan from the dwarf.

Gimli coughed. 'Say, Legolas, what do you say we retire to the bedroom?'

'I say yes; I love you, Gimli - son of Gloin.'

'I love you too, Prince of the Woodland Realm.'

And so, hand in hand, the lovers made their way to Gimli's room - but whether it was for sleeping or... other activities, we will leave that for them to decide!

[screaminglordbyronsecrets]

Overstepping Boundaries

Description: Slowish-burn McGonagall/Reader Fanfiction. Minerva McGonagall ponders the mystery of the whirlwind-like Y/N - she who wins everybody over. Is the high regard Mcgonagall holds for Y/N improfessional? Does Y/N just view her as her (former) professor?

Chapter 1: McGonagall's Crisis

I watch anxiously as the students dive into the great lake. The Triwizard tournament is in full swing - oh how I wish Harry's name was never put in the Goblet! The fourth years all seem so young to me, Potter and his friends are still getting into an incessant amount of trouble. Their peers are even more naïve in their grasp of the world.

Actually... not all the fourth years: not Y/N. She certainly doesn't come across as naïve. My, sometimes I am shocked at how much she does know - there is no hiding anything from her.

I think if it were her in Harry's place I would be much more at ease, she knows her way around the restricted section too well for me to be overly anxious about her. I suppose she is a bit like Miss Granger in her knowledge, but she has a wisdom that seems to extend beyond her years.

She gets along well with almost all the Hogwarts professors, I believe. She is truly a charming girl, she has consoled Professor Flitwick many a time (some pureblood Slytherins do so enjoy 'forgetting' that he is not their family house elf) and she is more than just a student to Dumbledore and myself. She is a friend.

I realise, of course, that calling one of my students a friend is inappropriate. I think about this a lot: should I be allowing Y/N to become so close to me? The answer to this is - how can I not?

She is a whirlwind and one cannot help being swept up by her winning smile and taking comfort in her outrageous movements - a hand on the shoulder - a fleeting hug in my office - a blown kiss.

I can see the rest of the school is being taken in as well - but does it keep them awake each night, as it does me? That I do not know. Perhaps I am just stressed because of the imminent danger of the tournament. Yes. That must be it - stress.

Chapter 2: Sudden and Unexpected

Summary Many years have passed. Y/N was a rock to many both within and without Hogwarts in the times before and after the war. She was seen, in such times, by both students and teachers alike as a dependable friend. Including by Minerva Mcgonagall. Yet, once the fighting was over, Y/N was not to be seen -- everyone knew she was alive, but it almost seemed like she'd left the wizarding world for good. Then, when Y/N returns to Hogwarts for a surprise visit at Christmas, after graduating from a muggle university, Minerva feels as if she has been swept away by her with even more intensity than before: for now Y/N is no longer her student-turned-friend, but a woman with whom she can reminisce happily and also share her fears...

- Approximately four years later --

Evening in mid-December. Hogwarts staff and some students sit down to a hearty dinner in the Great Hall. In spite of snow outside, and the vastness of the room, they are comfortably warm, and thus content. Halfway through the meal, however, the door burst open and the school's new butlers, caretakers, cooks and cleaners pour in and announce 'Y/FN Y/LN'.

Audible gasps are, at first, the only sounds heard in response to this news. Y/N? The Hogwarts alumnus famed as the brave witch of the war against the Dark Lord, but who had not been seen for years after.

The woman made visible by the parting of the staff before her wore a trailing black woollen coat with a fantastic collar, as well as a white furry pillbox hat and a matching scarf. Recovering from the surprise of seeing such an old friend, her former student, Minerva stood and spread her arms to say 'Welcome, Y/N -- or should I say welcome back? Please, do join us for supper.' At her words her colleagues readjusted themselves so that a seat next to the headmistress lay empty. Those students not home for the holidays began chatting excitedly, exchanging memories they had of Y/N if they were old enough, or stories they'd heard if they were not.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the hall still, Y/N removed her coat with a whisk of her wand, sending it flying to the seat prepared for her. Free from outerwear, she was slightly more recognisable as the student the school remembered. Her dress was midnight blue; it seemed to reflect the ceiling of the Great Hall as she strode towards the high table.

Her old professor gazed at her while she approached. Y/N sat down next to her, laughed and said: 'You can believe close your mouths, everyone, it is really me! Noone else would relish such a surprise return -- do you not agree, Minerva?' The headmistress McGonagall was profoundly struck by the cadence with which this woman spoke her name, the woman whom she remembered as an equally charming, but decidedly shorter, girl. A sudden hand on hers prompted further recollections: friendly walks across the grounds, hand-in-hand, relieved embraces after battles, and of course the final farewell -- after Y/N had finished Hogwarts, and left an impressive legacy behind her. Minerva McGonagall gathered herself enough to subtly return the squeeze of the hand under the table (a hug at this time perhaps would not be appropriate) and say quietly but emphatically: 'I am...ever so happy to see you again, Y/N.' The young lady smiled at this declaration so sweetly that Minerva felt her heart begin pounding in her chest, and became aware that Y/N would sense if her palms began sweating.

Saving her from the task of hiding the extent of her joy, food appeared for the unexpected visitor and Minerva was able to continue more easily with her meal (for it seemed to quell the butterflies in her stomach). A minute passed, with the pair satisfied to merely be so close to one another again, then Y/N turned again to her neighbour to say 'No doubt you have wondered why it was that I have not visited up til now, Minerva' (the other teachers politely respecting the particular affection McGonagall always held for the former student and waiting until later to properly speak to Ms Y/L/N). 'Perhaps in addition I ought to have given you an explanation for my withdrawal from magical further education, and choice to reenter the muggle world.' Minerva opened her mouth to assure Y/N that she did not owe her any reasoning, much less a visit -- but that the latter is most appreciated. However, Y/N continued rather wistfully before she could say anything of the sort.

'The truth is, I was drained by the war, despite the months I spent after it trying to help piece the magical world (*my* magical world) back together. So drained, in fact, that when the mourning, as well as the celebration, was over, I felt that I needed to return to the non-magical world of my childhood. I was honoured to be recognised as a witching hero, but at the same time I hated being associated with war -- a word which for me (through experience) connotes only horrors, not bravery. Thus it is that I have pursued muggle academic interests of mine -- you know I graduated from university? -- and have enjoyed myself. I come back now because it is time for me to remember magic again, and because, well...there are wizards and witches whom I have greatly missed.' With those final words Y/N reaffixed her eyes on Minerva's own, and re-clasped her hand with intent.

Minerva began to feel the return of mild nervous energy, but it transformed itself instead into a warm feeling that spread throughout her insides. She expressed her sentiment as well as she could: 'The war has taken many individuals from out of our world, whether through choice or by force. I am so glad, Y/N, that it has not affected you so far as to take you from us [though here Minerva rather wanted to say 'me'] forever.' She could no longer continue this formality of address, though, and could not help but hold Y/N's other hand and say, sotto voce: 'I, for one, do hope that you will not be departing again too soon. I cannot pretend I have not..thought about you, while you've been away...' Abruptly, 9 O' Clock chimed, and McGonagall was thus prompted to rise and bid the students a good night, before Y/N could respond. Y/N, in turn, felt she had to delay her reply to her former teacher in order to properly greet the other members of staff who remembered her fondly. Four toasts to her return later, Minerva and her were finally able to bid farewell to the five slightly-tipsy teachers and retreat to the office and adjoining chambers in which they had spent many happy hours in each other's company. Happier even, now, due to time missed, yet Minerva could not help but worry whether the joy she felt at seeing Y/N again was of an affectionate friend, or an older lady in love with a compelling younger woman..

Chapter 3: Making Up For Lost Time

Thus it was that Y/N was welcomed back to Hogwarts after all this time both by the school itself and most especially by its own Professor McGonagall. Though most students were home for the holidays, all those still at the school had mentioned the visitor in letters to friends and family, and very soon her return to the wizarding world was in all the news. Y/N and Minerva were only distantly aware of the considerable stir the young witch had caused, too wrapped up in the happiness they once again found in the other's presence to pay much attention to the world outside their own.

Freed from their usual term-time responsibilities, the pair would spend just about every waking hour in each other's company -- and, indeed, often the sleeping hours too: firstly because they would stay up late reminiscing on the past, and telling the story of the time they were apart; secondly, after a fortnight had passed, Y/N felt bold enough to fall asleep in the room of her former professor -- and her encircling arms meant Minerva could not extricate herself for fear of waking her, and so sharing a bed for them became an innocent habit.

Such growing intimacy at once allayed the older witch's fear that her particular affection was un-reciprocated, but still the developments caused her to analyse this affection further and some nights even the warmth of her companion beside her did not aid her sleep. Minerva realised that as much as she loved her job, she was desperate for the winter break to last forever: she did not know how long Y/N intended to stay, and could neither envisage being able to work with such a joyous distraction, nor functioning in any way without her. Though both women were fiercely independent, their reunion had taught them both that it was no coincidence that they suffered such melancholia whilst apart. Y/N broached this topic one afternoon when they were walking in the grounds; the earth was blanketed in snow and there was not a soul in sight.

'How contented I am these days, here with you. Though this winter season does truly make me wistful! You know, I do not think I could live life in the muggle world again, if it meant leaving you a second time to do so, Minerva. I cannot live without you!'

She spoke and smiled as if in jest, but Y/N's eyes betrayed her seriousness, and the Professor fixed her gaze there.

'I must admit that all the time we have spent together recently has caused me to think along that same vein -- but that the seasons change we cannot help, I suppose Spring will put us apart again.' Saying this, McGonagall stared into some far-off cloud, saddened by the idea of parting, but steeling herself so as not to show it.

'Perhaps. However...I have been thinking: I had some experience of teaching at my muggle university, and I always performed well as a student here...I don't suppose there is a post I could take up here? Indeed I needed time away, but now I have returned I know that I equally need some time at home, at Hogwarts. You'll have to discuss it with the other teachers, I know, and there is no need for answer now, but please say you'll consider it? And besides...I should not think a few weeks is enough for us to truly feel we have made up for lost time -- so even if there is no work for me here, I would love to stay a while longer.'

Minerva McGonagall had hoped and trusted that her friend felt -- like she did -- that there was so much more they had to say to each other, but she did not imagine that she would ask her such a question as this! So much was her surprise that she could not form a verbal reply in what she thought sufficient time, but let go the hand of Y/N and embraced her, tight. For a few seconds they stood in the snow simply holding each other, until the older woman spoke.

'Y/N, is is enough for me to say just this: it would be my infinite pleasure to have you stay on at Hogwarts, not least for selfish reasons as well as in a professional capacity. You were always a most impressive student, and it is my more recent privilege to consider you (here Professor McGonagall gave the smallest of pauses) a friend...'

Perceptive as she was, Y/N could not help but observe the partial pause before Minerva called her 'a friend'. She too had spent not a little time considering whether she liked or loved this woman who had clearly only branded her such with some deliberate delicacy. Standing slightly apart, now, she seized both her hands and held them as she beheld the sight before her. She had silver hair, wore spectacles over bright eyes upon a long nose and a lined face, and was beautiful. McGonagall admired Ms Y/L/N in kind, her lips held in a half-smile as she considered carefully her answer to the reference to their relationship.

'Minerva,' she asked, with as much suppressed emotion as a single word can carry, 'may I -- kiss you?'

Once more, the slightest of delays on McGonagall's part was perceived, and the young witch immediately thought she had misjudged the situation entirely and began to step back. Just as she retreated her leg, however, a hand strong by passion wrapped around her waist and brought her close as the other removed its owners spectacles; and with this, Minerva kissed her.

Gently, first, then desperately, maintained by mutual longing, their lips did meet. It was was only when the cold of the snow began to reach their feet and fingers that they slowly drew apart, and smiled, blissful smiles of two in love, and no words more were needed just then, but they returned to the castle, where they talked at length, until night came.

Chapter 4: New Year's Realisations

Summary You usher in your new tenure as a professor at Hogwarts, and your relationship with McGonagall develops alongside..

The new year came sweeping in, and with it -- from all of Hogwarts' perspective -- came Y/N once again.

This time, as a professor.

Despite the time that had passed, the charm she held for her fellow-pupils as a student at the school was not gone away, and her colleagues and classes admired her quite alike.

All of them, that is, except McGonagall: her feelings for Y/N were quite beyond admiration these days, and would more accurately be described as--

"Devotion."

Y/N underlined the noun in chalk on the board as she spoke it aloud.

"Can any of you tell me the definition of this word?"

She moved to perch on the edge of the desk in her deep purple robe.

One eager student raised their hand abruptly and excitedly. Y/N smiled, remembering an old friend, Hermione Granger, as she gestured for June to give their answer.

"Devotion. The state of being absolutely, utterly, and unconditionally in love."

"Correct. As the muggle poet William Shakespeare famously said: 'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds'".

Y/N was the new professor of Muggle Studies, which had been more appropriately re-named 'Humanities'. Her teaching elevated the subject beyond a mere appraisal of non-magical people, into a scholarly investigation into their history, literature, and current creative works.

To the surprise of some more close-minded parents, it proved an extremely popular subject for the pupils. Since the end of the Second Wizarding War, when Voldemort and the Death Eaters had been defeated, more progressive attitudes about magical and non-magical people, and heritage and ancestry, had flourished. As a result, interest in learning about the 'muggle world' only increased. Not only this, but equal rights had been sought for humans and non-humans such as elves, and, within Hogwarts, gender segregation in all spaces had ended, and greater freedom of expression was heavily encouraged -- largely thanks to Professor McGonagall's support for the pupil-led Queer Wizards Society formed at the school.

The creation of this group -- though primarily aimed at supporting pupils -- had been transformative for Minerva herself, too.

She had grown up, many decades before, as the daughter of a Presbyterian Minister in the Scottish Highlands, in a community that left little room for perceived difference. She had seen what shame and the fear of judgement had done to her parents' marriage, when her father found out her mother was a witch, and subsequently that she, their daughter, was as well. How could she confess yet another potentially divisive truth? That she loved women, and might want an 'unconventional' marriage, too?

Things were a little different, now. With her smiling support for the queer youth at school, and their inspirational enthusiasm for making change, Minerva felt herself smiling and inspiring herself a little more in turn. Her queerness was as natural a part of her as her magical ability, and she was lucky enough to be in a place where she could experience and express both.

That said, could she? Her and Y/N had enjoyed each other's company privately, over the winter holiday, and it had been bliss. Now that term had started again, and all the other teachers were back, and growing pupil numbers left little chance for an empty corridor, she had aimed for professional caution in their interactions with each other within the school. Thankfully, it was not that they feared prejudice from their colleagues, but in working hours it was necessary to focus on the job at hand, and avoid being too affectionate with each other in public.

However, with Y/N around, that felt nigh-on impossible. It was not only that Minerva felt an itching to be close to her whenever she was in sight, but that Y/N herself was -- to put it bluntly -- an absolute flirt, who did not know the meaning of fear. The other day, when she had come to introduce a new student to Y/N's class, Y/N had actually -- albeit surreptitiously -- winked at her as she turned to leave -- winked! McGonagall had needed a spell to hide her blushes as she hurried down the corridor afterward.

This attention thrilled Minerva no end, despite her own more tentative approach. Although, it remained true that a discussion was needed about practicalities: there were only so many disillusionment charms they could risk, as they made their way to each other's quarters each night, especially when either of them were on duty.

Furthermore, being as lucky with their fellow-professors as they were, Minerva wondered whether it would not be better to be honest. Yet, it was so unlike her. For years, she had been 'married to her work', so to speak. How strange would it be to declare aloud that she was in love, and with a much younger woman!

'In love'. There it was: that word.

She'd confessed it to herself, but -- on the subject of 'self-expression': had she expressed herself, and her devotion, honestly?

Had she told Y/N what she *really* felt? And, if she did, would it change things?

Chapter 5: Professionalism, Self-Expression, and Confession

It was an icy Friday evening in February at Hogwarts School, and Y/N and Minerva were sat beside each other in the Great Hall, both picking at their food. This was very unlike Y/N, especially, who had relished her return to the charms that the magical feasts held in her old school, after a long stint in the muggle world. Minerva thought she should broach the topic, whilst there was a steady, cloaking hum of conversation around them.

"Would I be right in sensing that there might be something on both of our minds?"

Y/N sighed, and then smiled.

"You always could read me like a book, Minerva -- or perhaps I was simply never a very well-enchanted, forbidden-section tome!"

Minerva lowered her cutlery, and extended a hand under the tablecloth to meet Y/N's, almost hidden in her robe.

"Are you happy, here? Is there anything you're missing, back home?"

"Oh, no, not at all -- well, of course, there's my family, and friends, but I'll see them again soon enough. It's not that I'm longing for."

Longing. The term struck Minerva like a stun -- she felt stupefied, and stupid! Of course, it's not something Y/N's missing, there must be someone. After all, they had not defined their relationship in any way yet, and -- as loving as Y/N was -- she hardly knew if Y/N actually loved her. She was brilliant young witch -- well, young woman, in the non-magical world -- who surely had no end of admirers. Of course there was someone. How could she have failed to think of this before!

These assumptions had flown through Minerva's head so immediately, and with such force, that she hardly even caught the fact that Y/N wasn't finished.

"What I really long for, is a way for you and I to express ourselves honestly to our colleagues here," Y/N continued.

It took a moment for these words to register, and -- when they did -- Minerva came crashing back down to earth again, and her well-lined face spun back to face her companion's. 

Undeterred by the movement, and unable to guess the meaning in McGonagall's wide eyes, Y/N confessed to her former professor: "I'd like for us to tell people that we are together. That is...if you'd like for us to be?"

In her nervousness, Y/N dropped her fork, which clattered loudly against her silver platter. 

It seemed as if the whole of Hogwarts stopped to stare at them. 

Nevertheless, McGonagall longed to kiss her, right there and then. Instead, she did something that was almost just as surprising: she laughed. She laughed a loud, long, infectious laugh, that soon set the whole high table, and then the whole hall, a-giggling. They had never known Professor McGonagall to be so jolly! What they didn't know was why.

The reason was simple: Minerva McGonagall had realised something.

Y/N was shy.

This brilliant, bold, young woman, who had laughed in the face of danger whilst at school, had braved every peril during the war, and did not know the meaning of fear at work, was just as shy as she was when it came to love. Despite all the flirtation, all the affection, all the intimacy they'd enjoyed over the holidays, Y/N still wanted to know: how did Minerva want it to go?

Time had flown by, and Y/N was biting her lip in uncertainty, awaiting an answer. Minerva looked out to see all the pupils gazing up at her, equally expectantly, and still amused by her recent expression of joy. The feast was finished. Grinning still, she wished them all a good night, and sent them to their dorms.

Then, when just the teachers remained, Minerva gave her answer.

"Of course. Of course I'd like us to be. My goodness, Y/N, a thousand times of course!"

And she kissed her -- she pushed aside her caution and her concerns of old, she told professionalism that it can hold off for just one moment, please -- and she kissed her, in front of their colleagues all. Y/N kissed back, delightedly, furiously.

Cheers and hoots and laughter rang out down the high table in the hall as their colleagues celebrated the revelation of a secret that was not really the best-kept secret, truth be told.

So, with that, they did not really have to 'tell' anyone, after all!