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rcreveal · 9 months

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In a cow byre a deal is struck: England 1124

Summary:

Prompt a week challenge combining prompts: weather and how we began again-with an illicit bargain When they last met as a knight of the Round table and the Black Knight, Aziraphale and Crowley had argued about Crowley's suggestion that they were canceling each other out and were better off staying home. They haven't spoken since, but are both still working in medieval England. When and how did "The Arrangement" start?

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

1124 England

Sheets of water pushed by gale force winds slapped into the lonely figure staggering through the night and storm blackened countryside. It fell into a ditch and cursed. It fell into a bramble and cursed. Smelling wood smoke, it made its way purposefully towards a tiny, hesitant glimmer of light before finally standing in front of a cow byre with an animal skin for a door.

“Hullo? Harmless woodcutter here, just looking for a place to get out of the wet. No threat to anyone at all,” the figure, dressed as a medieval woodcutter called out with a little miraculous force behind the words to make them believable. Hail rattled on his coat while a gust of wind carried off some of the smaller stones on the top of a nearby wall. What he wouldn’t give for a seat by that fire!

“Do come in! Just a poor friar here with nothing to steal!” a strangely familiar voice called from inside the structure.

“Hold on a minute…” Crowley stuck his head into the part dirt, part stone, part wood, but at least roofed structure. “What are you doing out here, Aziraphale?”

“Crowley! Goodness, it’s not fit for man nor beast out tonight!” exclaims Azriaphale dressed as a medieval friar sitting next to the cozy fire.

“I guess that means it’s perfect for a demon like me . Right, I’ll push off then,” Crowley turns into the storm with his teeth gritted, fairly gutted with disappointment. Figures. The only vaguely habitable shelter for miles around would already have him in it. And he had made himself perfectly clear about what he thought about them working together the last time they’d run into each other as knights during Arthurian times!

Crowley, too busy deciding if he should make for the stand of fir trees or just keep plodding through the night, doesn't expect the warm grip on his wrist that tugs him at the same time a blast of wind, sleet, and hail fairly pushes him into the byre.

“No! That's not what I meant! Get in here you idiot!” scolds Aziraphale, unintentionally banging the demon’s head against the low door.

“OW! What was that for!?” Crowley holds his head and takes a deep breath to further bless the angel out, but the cow byre doesn't so much have a chimney as it has a more porous section of roof and he gets a lung full of smoke instead. Coughing he collapses in a heap by the fire, holding his head and glaring at the angel.

“I'm not going to turn you away on a night like this! You're wet through and it's not showing any sign of letting up,” Aziraphale looks at the grumbling, dripping, muddy, bramble-torn demon, and says more plaintively, “At least dry off before heading out again.”

Crowley groans in frustration but moves closer to the fire.

“Fine. What are you doing up here in the back of beyond?” asks Crowley as the leather bags tied to his lower legs as footwear start to steam.

“Oh, I'm supposed to meet a young second son of the local lord and inspire him to be more caring of the local serfdom. You?” Aziraphale remarks lightly.

“Funny thing is, I'm meant to meet the second son of the local lord and tempt him to be more harsh with the local serfs,” Crowley just looks at Aziraphale from hooded eyes as he tips water out of his cap and shakes it out of his sleeves.

Aziraphale huffs, “The same old argument! Again! We're canceling each other out!”

Crowley scrubs his face, “I didn't say anything! You said not to speak of it again, so I'm not speaking of it!”

Aziraphale opens his mouth to argue, closes it, opens it once more only to look up at the roof shaking in the gale.

“Right, you didn't. Sorry. Jumped to conclusions there. May I make it up to you with a drink and some dinner?”offered the angel.

“You've got food and drink in here? You said you had nothing to steal!” accuses Crowley, to the angel’s raised eyebrows. “Fine! Yes! I'll happily take food and drink off of you!” Aziraphale smiles delightedly and hands over a leather pouch of wine and scoops porridge from an earthenware pot in the coals of the fire.

“Where'd you get this wine? ‘s good.” asks Crowley after a long pull.

“Well, when the robbers accosted me, I explained that I was from a really strict order that was all about poverty and fasting and work. They were so taken with my pitiful state that they pointed out the location of this cow byre and gave me the wine and food!” Crowley had stopped eating with the spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Lovely lads, really,” said Aziraphale.

“This happens to you often?” Crowley comments mildly.

“Yes! All the time! Robbers used to be so tiresome until I learned to talk with them. Don't you?” explains Aziraphale.

Taking another long pull of the wine, Crowley looks over at the angel with something like respect. “I think I've been doing this all wrong for ages,” he murmurs.

“How do you deal with robbers then?”asks Aziraphale curiously.

“I make ‘em think I'm too much trouble and they turn away. Sometimes I have to manifest the demonic face to scare them off. Occasionally they drop some loot in the process, but I've never gotten helpful lodging suggestions!” Crowley comments with grudging admiration, passing back the wine.

The silence becomes a bit more companionable as Crowley tucks into the porridge and warms up further. He takes off his sheepskin coat and lays it on a pile of hay to dry giving his tunic and leggings a chance to steam. Trying to find a safe topic of conversation, he says, “Rotten weather we've been having.”

Aziraphale, however, has something on his mind, and hopes Crowley will understand the change of subject, “I've been thinking about the problem of Home Office checking up if nothing happens. So both parties can't stay home,” he takes a measured sip of wine before passing the pouch over.

Crowley accepts the wine and without looking at his hereditary adversary comments, “It turns out that a demon can perform a…blessing,” before taking his own measured sip and passing the pouch.

Arizaphale is staring at Crowley, “You….!”

“Nnnngh! Not me, not me!” Crowley hisses and rolls up on his elbow from the nest of hay he's burrowed into to glare at Aziraphale.

“So if an angel could do…the other thing…” Crowley starts to suggest, but stops in the face of the angel's stubborn set of.face and shoulders. Aziraphale starts to make an angry retort when the storm shakes the little structure so fiercely that the fire gutters and the walls seem ready to fall down. They both stare around waiting for the last moment to perform some protective miracle, not wanting to expose their current location. The wind settles and the warmth returns to the little space.

Over the crackling of the fire, Aziraphale reconsiders his words, making careful eye contact with Crowley, “Really, this weather isn't fit for anyone to be out in. We should wait until tomorrow to find the lord's second son so he can be tempted to do good,” Aziraphale points to Crowley, who's sitting up with a look of surprise on his face, “and tempted to do bad,” Aziraphale's face looks pained as he points to himself.

Crowley smiles, it only took 500 years or so for the angel to think maybe one of them should get out of the rain from time to time, progress! Plus travel really was abysmal since the fall of the Roman Empire. Hand out, he challenges the angel to go through with the plan. Aziraphale rolls his eyes skyward, shakes his head, mouthes “what am I thinking!” drinks the rest of the pouch of wine and shakes Crowley’s hand, sealing the deal.

The next morning they'd bickered while Aziraphale handed over the friar's robes and a blackthorn staff and Crowley had parted with his woodcutter's cap, tunic, leggings and ax. Their medieval clothes were so voluminous that they could swap relatively comfortably.

“You lost the toss, old boy! Temptation first,” said the angel nervously, “so the blessing has a more lasting effect.”

“Yes, then I won't meet you back at the cow byre,” Crowley rolled his eyes at the pantomime, maintaining eye contact until the angel nodded.

Aziraphale was hard at work chopping up a small tree that blocked the young lord’s path when the youth rode up. Glancing up the steaming nostrils of the horse, Aziraphale notes the youth appointed in finely woven wool, and brightly dyed coat trimmed with fur. Mostly he notes how perfectly balanced the boy is, neither tipping towards good nor evil and the potential in his life is huge. His choices will significantly impact the people of these lands. No wonder both Home Offices want to influence him. Oh dear, should Aziraphale keep his word and tempt the lad, trusting in Crowley to bless him? He was an angel, could he even do the wrong thing? Then his eyes dropped to the boy's hand casually sitting on the hilt of his sword. ‘I did that, I brought war to humans. Or at least I brought weapons, so I certainly can do wrong.’

All this passes through his mind in a flash as he makes the proper obeisance to the boy. He endeavors to somehow be cheeky about it.

“You bow well, man, but somehow it seems me false, like the felling of this tree across the path seems poorly chosen by one otherwise prudent,” the lad challenges.

Aziraphale looks up, surprised at the youth’s keen discernment.

“Pardon me, my lord, but I was only felling the tree where it would be most easy to get it moved up to the castle. The quick ‘n easy way! Isn't that what the great lords do? Find the quickest, easiest way and lead us to it?” Aziraphale lops the branches so the horse can jump over the tree and bows again.

“Have this ‘easiest way’ cleared by the time I come back!”

“Yes, my lord,” and Aziraphale turns to clearing the log as the boy rides away.

Shortly the boy comes upon Crowley gathering herbs in the forest. Crowley bows, receiving the lad’s hail, “Father, what are you doing in the forest?”

Crowley sees the potential in the boy, and the thoughts of how he might serve himself set off by his talk with Aziraphale.

“I'm gathering the bounty of the storm, my lord! These galls make the most wonderful ink and these mosses make a tisane that eases headache, but they only grow high in the trees.

“Ah, good Father, then I have your solution! Have the wood cutter cut down the trees and you can gather what you need! “

“Ah, my lord, that would give me what I need for today, but the tree would be dead and I couldn't gather from it for the next person's ailment. Like killing your sheep for the wool, rather than sheering them and caring for them when they're cold and keeping them from harm. I've found that there are too many unintended consequences to the quick path. It's only easy in the short run, with respect, my lord.” Crowley bows and feels the good and evil in the boy swirl back to a wavering balance.

“Your words are as the sermon and well received, Father! Fare thee well!”

“And blessings be upon ye, my lord,” says Crowley as the boy rides away.

Aziraphale smells something wonderful as he walks back to the cow byre, “That smells delicious! What did you make?”

“Snared a couple of conies, gathered some things in the forest to add to the porridge pot,” Crowley ladles the stew into wooden bowls. “How'd it go? Seemed successful when he got to me. How was he when he got back your way?” Crowley didn't sound upset or surprised that Aziraphale had checked to make sure he kept his word.

Aziraphale touched the cross Crowley had left behind. It didn't burn him. He’d tempted the lad and he wasn't Fallen. “Our efforts balanced out. We can both report, truthfully, that the deeds were done.”

Crowley touched the cross and smoke started to curl from his fingers. Even doing good didn't offset simply being a demon, but he hitched a smile on his face and held out his hand. “Right, then. We can do this… thing,” he vaguely indicates the role reversal they pulled off, the forest, the cow byre, ”from time to time… to stay out of the weather, as it were.”

Aziraphale clasps Crowley's hand, “The arrangement seems sound to me.” Crowley grinned hugely then, causing Aziraphale to bluster, “only on very rare occasions!”

“I'll drink to that!” Crowley chuckled, bringing out another flask of wine.”What? Those bandits are really a soft touch.” Aziraphale just laughed and laughed as the sun shone over the forest and fields.

Notes:

I didn't have lots of time to research the methods of addressing second sons of local lords or Friars as part of the prompt challenge. If you know the correct wording, I'd be happy for the corrections.

#good omens fanfic #short one shot #fluff and humor #protective aziraphale #neil gaiman #aziraphale and crowley through the ages #the arrangement #cannon typical #medieval #writing prompt #Jan 2024 writing prompt challenge Sendarya's discord server #god ships aziraphale and crowley

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unseeliefaerie · 1 year

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Good omens season 2 spoilers!

I don't usually get meta out of my brain semi-coherently but I'm seeing a lot of people misunderstanding Aziraphale's intentions in those final 15 minutes and I'm here to swing for my boy

I think one thing people might be missing the undercurrent of is the offer to make Crowley an angel again

It's not just an ooh we'd be on the same side, the good guys, and we'd be allowed to be together, though of course that is some of it

Aziraphale thinks he's being offered the chance to grant Crowley, who he knows has been tortured and almost killed by Hell, who risks punishment to disobey Hell's orders when they ask him to be cruel, divine forgiveness

That's kind of a big deal when Falling is the worst thing that can happen to an angel, besides being erased from existence

It's a way to get Crowley out of a job he hates and the persistent threat of torture, give him the freedom to be kind, as Aziraphale really believes he is deep down, underneath the obligations of being a Demon, without worrying about being punished for it

Of course he would want that for Crowley, that's not out of character at all

Aziraphale doesn't even want to go back to Heaven until it's stated that he can take Crowley with him, that Crowley can be an angel again

Crowley can be safe, and free from the trauma/repercussions of Falling, and they can be together forever in a real partnership

Why wouldn't he see it as a perfect solution?

He genuinely doesn't understand why Crowley doesn't want that

He's been given a chance to give Crowley salvation and protection from harm, and it's so shocking and confusing and upsetting that Crowley doesn't want to be saved, such a sting of rejection that he'd choose remaining Fallen on Earth over being an angel again with Aziraphale in Heaven, that in his heartbreak he ends up agreeing to go without Crowley despite Crowley being the only reason he considered it in the first place

Here's where I want to point out that I don't think Aziraphale understands how the Fall actually did change Crowley quite a bit. From Aziraphale's point of view, Crowley as an Angel and Crowley as a Demon are the same person just with different jobs. He's not entirely wrong about that, and given how often he's seen Crowley do the 'right' thing he's got evidence to back it up

But I'm not sure he knows what Crowley was telling Gabriel, that his own memories from before the Fall are hard to access and he did in essence have to start from scratch and build up a whole new sense of self

And besides that, being cast out of Heaven is a horrific abandonment. You don't just get over something like that when they invite you back - and you don't just get over seeing firsthand that they almost destroyed the love of your life without remorse only to turn around and ask him to run the place now (or all the other cruelty you've seen committed on their orders.)

Crowley has learned that kindness is not inherent in Heaven and having once been an angel has nothing to do with what he believes is right, while Aziraphale is still idealistic about good and evil (tbh Aziraphale admitting that Heaven needs to change is already a huge step in the right direction, it just wasn't enough)

From Crowley's pov Aziraphale is choosing an unjust and abusive workplace over the life they already have together, and asking him to change because he's not good enough as he is, even though that's not how Aziraphale means it at all.

I'm sure the Metatron knew that Crowley wouldn't go for it for precisely those reasons, but I don't think he needed to do anything more than make the offer to cause a rift

Tl;dr I vehemently believe Aziraphale wasn't poisoned he's just a well-meaning moron and the true villain here is miscommunication

#good omens #good omens season 2 #go2 spoilers #this is an anti-coffee theory post Aziraphale needs to take responsibility for his own actions #even if they're coming from a good place #this is what you get for not talking about your feelings for 6000 years #God the reconciliation is gonna be so good though #anyway I've been shipping them since 2008 this scene CHANGED ME #this may sound coherent but in reality I'm crying screaming etc etc #pls add your own thoughts i need to yell into the void #aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable husbands #hey remember the a/c tag?

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