#twelve days of togmas

[flawedamythyst]

On The First Day of Christmas

1100

The first year they were together, it didn’t come up. Either Yusuf didn’t notice or Nicolo didn’t say anything or, most likely, both. That first year was tense and awkward, and fraught with pained silences as they both tried to reconcile their natural suspicions of each other with the hard truth that they were now bound together by the strange fate of their miraculous healing. 

By the second year they were more settled and had started to form something that might look like friendship to an outsider. They had worked past the initial shock of all that had happened in Jerusalem and that first, desperate drive to just get away from the war and the armies of both sides, and had started to realise that they would need a longer term plan. Or at least an idea of what they should be doing with their lives now they didn’t look set to end permanently any time soon.

For now they made enough money for food and shelter by offering their services as caravan guards. It wasn’t going to be sustainable as a career, especially not if one of them ended up getting killed by bandits in front of too many other people, but for now it gave them time to think about what they might do next and kept them on the move. Neither of them really wanted to linger anywhere too long right now, not when it would only take one careless accident for everyone to find out their secret and then- 

And then what? Condemn them for it? Hail them as blessed by Allah? Yusuf had no idea, and didn’t want to find out.

They’d just arrived in Medina with a merchant’s caravan and taken their final pay for a job well done. As was now their habit, Yusuf found them lodgings while Nicky held back, cloak thrown over his head to cover his pale features, then followed him inside with his head down. They’d found that landlords were far less likely to object to having a Christian foreigner under their roof if he was already settled in and they’d already been paid.

They took a few days just to rest and settle into the city, taking the chance to wash their clothes and do the little repairs that a long journey always seemed to lead to.

“Shall I find us work tomorrow?” asked Yusuf on their fourth night there, after they'd eaten but before it was time for them to go to bed. They’d started to take the time to sit together and talk, sharing their thoughts about the day and what they should do next. Yusuf had come to look forward to it, although he told himself it was just because it gave him a chance to sit down and relax. It was nothing to do with the ways Nicolo was starting to open up to him, revealing a far kinder outlook on the world than Yusuf would have expected. 

“I’ve made a few contacts in the market, I’m sure someone there will be looking for porters, or maybe even a scribe if we’re lucky.”

Yusuf’s writing and numbers were more than good enough for scribing and it brought in more money than being a porter, but all too often no one wanted to trust the kind of itinerant vagabond that Yusuf appeared as these days with that kind of work. Instead, he and Nicolo had got all too used to manual labour.

Usually Nicolo was the first to suggest finding work, and sometimes only took a break between jobs because Yusuf gently bullied him into it. Today though, he hesitated at the idea rather than jumping on it.

“I was rather hoping to be able to take tomorrow for myself.”

Nicolo never asked for time for himself. Yusuf frowned at him, running his eyes over his face to see if it had got any paler. “Are you unwell?”

Neither of them had been, not since before Jerusalem, but perhaps that had just been chance rather than a sign that they would throw disease off as easily as they did mortal wounds.

Nicolo shook his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just that tomorrow is Christmas Day.”

Yusuf blinked at the Latin word, taking a moment to place it. “Ah, one of your religious festivals.”

“It's the birth of Jesus Christ, our saviour,” said Nicolo. “It's an important day.”

“Feasting?” asked Yusuf, starting to grin at the thought. It had been a while since they’d had an excuse for a feast.

Nicolo’s face did one of the tiny twitches that Yusuf had taken a few months to realise hid far more emotion than they seemed to. “Well, yes, if I were at home, or if there were a Christian community here, but it is also a day for prayer and thanking God for the blessing he bestowed on us when he sent his son down to Earth. I’d like to take the day for that if there’s no desperate need for us to work.”

Yusuf nodded. “That is more than fair,” he said. “I’ll find myself a job and leave you here in peace to make your prayers.”

He earned himself a smile for that, one of the small ones that he was learning to treasure more than a wide grin from anyone else. “Thank you, Yusuf.”

****

The next day Yusuf wished Nicolo a good Christmas Day, then set off to the market to find work. He deliberately started in the area with the food stalls and soon found work helping a merchant selling a range of fruits to pack deliveries for his customers. At the end of the day he accepted his pay in kind, packing a bag with dates, figs and a small jar filled with slices of pears soaked in honey to preserve them.

“Those have come a long way,” said the merchant. “One small jar is worth a lot. If you left it and just took more dates instead, I could give you some money for your work instead.”

“No, thank you,” said Yusuf, carefully setting the bag on his shoulder. “I think I’d rather take home a special treat for dinner.”

The merchant shook his head. “Your wife would be just as happy with coins she could buy whatever she wanted with.”

“I don’t have a wife,” said Yusuf, and wished him good night.

On the way out of the market he also brought fresh bread, still warm from the oven, and a roasted bird that was carefully wrapped to preserve the juices.

When he got back to the lodgings, Nicolo was on his knees with his hands clasped but he was staring up at the sky through the window rather than speaking one of his prayers so Yusuf felt free to interrupt him.

“I have brought you a feast for your festival,” he said, setting his bag down on the table and grinning at Nicolo.

Nicolo turned away from the window to blink at him. “Oh, you didn’t have to-”

“Perhaps not,” said Yusuf, “but we have celebrated all my religious holidays over this last year. It seems only fair to celebrate this one of yours.” He grinned at Nicolo, pulling the bird from his bag to show him. “Especially if it means having a good meal.”

Nicolo laughed, standing up to come over and look at what Yusuf had brought. “Oh, pears!” he said happily, looking in the jar. “This is incredible, Yusuf. Thank you.”

“It was no trouble,” said Yusuf, and tried to ignore the warm glow spreading in his chest. 

Perhaps they really were friends now. That must be the reason why it made him so happy to see Nicolo smile like that. 

[flawedamythyst]

On the Second Day of Christmas 

1112

It wasn’t until the morning of Christmas Day that Yusuf realised Nicolo wasn’t going to say anything.

“We’ve spent too long here, we need to move on,” said Andromache, sweeping into the inn room they’d only had for two nights. She and Quynh had a separate room but Yusuf had quickly realised that neither of them had any qualms about wandering in on him and Nicolo at any time of the day or night. “Pack everything up.”

Yusuf was praying Fajr and ignored her in favour of continuing, focusing on the words he was speaking to Allah. Next to him Nicolo was kneeling and saying his own prayers but he stopped and stood up, reaching for his bag.

That made Yusuf stop praying. “Nicolo, what are you doing?”

“Getting ready to leave,” said Nicolo, not looking up.

Yusuf frowned at him, then looked over at Andromache. “We’re not going today,” he said. “There’s no rush to move on, we can wait until tomorrow.”

Andromache stared at him as if completely unable to believe he wouldn’t just fall in with her orders. “What on earth could you want to stay here for?”

“It’s a special religious day for Nicolo’s faith,” said Yusuf.

Andromache turned to look at Nicolo, who just looked back with a steady gaze that gave nothing away. After a moment she scoffed. “That’s not worth hanging around for. Have you seen this place? It’s a shithole.”

They’d finally met Andromache and Quynh only a few weeks ago and had been travelling west through Anatolia towards Europe ever since. For all Quynh had embraced them as brothers, and Andromache called them family and she was taking them somewhere for them to get to know each other properly, things had been awkward. 

Andromache had been very clear that she viewed both Yusuf and Nicolo’s different faiths with equal scorn, and had little or no patience for their different prayer schedules. Quynh was more patient with it all but she treated their faiths like some amusing childish quirks that had to be pandered to, which was not much better. And then there was Nicolo and Yusuf’s disappointment that the two women hadn’t been able to offer them any real answers about their immortality, just the harsh truth that they were likely to live for thousands of years, but also that any death could be their last. It was a lot to take in, and neither Yusuf or Nicolo had really managed to step beyond it to properly form a relationship with Andromache or Quynh yet.

Yusuf looked over at Nicolo, who looked back at him and then gave a sad, resigned shrug. “I can pray once we stop tonight.”

“No,” said Yusuf immediately, because he hated to see sadness on Nicolo’s face when there was anything he could do to prevent it. “There’s no hurry, we will stay for the day so Nicolo can do his praying.” Andromache started to roll her eyes, so Yusuf played his trump card. “And I can prepare a feast for this evening.”

Andromache paused. “A feast?”

Yusuf nodded. “We’ll need some form of roasted bird. And pears, if we can find any.”

She looked at Nicolo. “Yours isn’t the religion without alcohol, is it?” she asked him.

Nicolo gave her one of his small smiles. “It’s traditional to drink a lot of alcohol at a Christmas feast.”

Her face lit up. “That’s different, then. We’ll stay another night.” 

She left the room, already calling for Quynh.

****

They left town the next day, late in the morning after they’d had a chance to recover from the night before.

Well, after the other three had. Yusuf hadn’t drunk any alcohol but he’d still had a good time, laughing and joking and listening to the frankly unbelievable stories Quynh and Andromache had of their long lives. It was the most relaxed he’d seen them, as if they were finally starting to let their walls down, and for the first time he’d been able to see how they might actually become the family they kept talking about.

By early afternoon the four of them were riding through a forest, sun dappling through the leaves around them. Andromache and Quynh had gone a bit ahead but Yusuf was happy to stay back and ride at Nicolo’s side, just enjoying the birdsong around them.

“Thank you,” said Nicolo, into the peaceful moment. “For talking to Andromache for me yesterday about Christmas.”

Yusuf grinned, satisfaction rolling through him at the sight of his smile. “That’s no problem.”

“It meant a lot to me,” said Nicolo.

Yusuf just shrugged. “You can repay me by helping out when I try to explain why I will need to fast during Ramadan to her.”

Nicolo let out a quiet huff of amusement. “That will be a fun conversation,” he agreed. “Perhaps if we tell her it’s a feast every night, once the sun has gone down, for a month.”

“One with no alcohol,” Yusuf pointed out.

“Ah, yes,” said Nicolo. “That will be tricky.”

They rode on in silence for a few minutes and Yusuf looked around at the landscape. He’d never travelled through this part of the world before and he was finding it very beautiful. He wondered what else he’d get to see on this journey, and then realised that he’d have hundreds of years to travel the world now. He was going to be able to see all kinds of places.

There was a movement to his left and he glanced over to see a pair of birds lifting off from a tree. “Look, Nicolo, doves.”

“I don’t think I would call them doves,” said Nicolo. “Perhaps hawks of some kind?”

Yusuf glanced over at him and Nicolo gave him a tiny smile, then flicked his eyes towards Andromache and Quynh. Yusuf let out a bellow of laughter, loud enough for the women to look back, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at Nicolo, and the quietly satisfied smile he had at the success of his joke.

Yusuf was going to get to see the world, and he’d get to do it at this man’s side. Did he really need to worry about why this immotality had happened to him, or what it meant, when he could look forward to having that future?

[flawedamythyst]

On The Seventh Day Of Christmas

This one is for @ameliahcrowley as well. Thanks for the prompt!

1741

“The others are all leaving early for the day,” said Josef, looking across the field at where the other workers were starting to pack up their things. “Because of the celebration tonight.”

Andy made an irritated grunting noise, continuing to dig down into the earth. “I hardly think yet another fucking new year is worth celebrating,” she said.

Josef glanced over at Nicky who shrugged at him, clearly feeling as helpless as Josef did, then turned back to whatever he was gently unearthing with his trowel.

Josef suppressed his sigh and kept digging as well. They’d been in Naples for several months now, ever since Andy had caught sight of a newspaper headline about the magnificent finds being uncovered at the archaeological site of Herculaneum. She’d immediately announced they were coming to help out, ridden right over any objections Nicky or Josef had, and then bullied the man who was leading the excavation, Alcubierre, into letting them join his crew once they arrived.

When he’d finally relented and tried to assign them to an area, Andy had just rolled her eyes then marched over to a part of the site that hadn’t been touched yet and ordered Nicky and Josef to start digging.

It had been a long few months since then. They’d found various artefacts and dutifully passed them over to Alcubierre, and every time Andy stared at whatever it was, looked around where they were digging, and made them move over to somewhere else.

Josef just kept his grip on his patience, dug where he was told to, and reminded himself that if it had been a hundred years since Nicky had disappeared under the waves, he’d be falling apart as well.

Just the thought made him shiver and he looked over at Nicky just to be sure he was still there. He’d put down his trowel and was now clearing dirt off something with his hands.

“What is it?” Josef asked, abandoning his own part of their trench.

“I think it’s a mosaic,” said Nicky, and swept more earth of it. “Yes, look. Is it a swan?”

Andy sat up and stared over at him as Josef bent to look at the picture Nicky was unearthing. Beneath the dirt he could see a white wing and the hint of beak. “I think it is.”

Andy came over, bending down to stare at it. “This is it,” she said softly, tracing a finger over the curve of the wing. “Nicolo, you found it.”

“Found what?” asked Josef gently, wondering if they were going to get an answer this time when all their questions had been ignored so far.

“Our home,” said Andy. “We came here after Lykon died, and lived here for many years.” She glanced up from the mosaic. “As different people, of course. We’d go away for a while, then come back with different names.”

Josef nodded in understanding, because he and Nicky did the same thing in Malta.

“We weren’t here when it got destroyed,” she said. “I wanted to go see the steppes again, so we were far away when the volcano erupted. We heard about it, of course, everyone was talking about it. By the time we got here though, there was nothing but ruin and ash. We couldn’t find anything we recognised and it was heartbreaking to see it, so we just left and went east, and didn’t come back until we started having dreams of our new little brothers.”

She managed a half-smile at them at that, and Josef smiled back.

“Well then,” said Nicky, picking up his trowel again. “Let’s keep going and see what’s left.”

Josef went to get his own tools and together they carefully uncovered the rest of the mosaic, a large square design with a ring of swans surrounding a floral design. They also found a handful of bricks and tiles that must have come from the roof of the house.

“This way,” said Andy, digging to the left of the mosaic. “It would have been against this wall.”

Josef glanced at Nicky who just shrugged at him to show he had no idea what she was talking about, but they both started digging with her. The light was fading and Josef wondered how late it would get before Andy admitted they’d need to come back tomorrow.

He didn’t say anything though, and neither did Nicky. They just worked shoulder to shoulder, because that was what Andy needed from them right now, and Josef knew they’d both do anything that might help ease her grief.

That might help ease their own grief. God, he missed Quynh so much.

They were digging by torchlight by the time Andy’s trowel hit something solid that made her breathe out a hushed word in an ancient language Josef had never learnt. Her movements grew frantic, chucking the earth to either side and covering up some of what they had already uncovered.

Finally she pulled free an amphora made of red clay. It was undecorated and looked like many of the amphorae they’d all uncovered over the last few months, but this one Andy held in her hands like it was precious.

“It survived,” she said, sounding shocked.

“What is it?” asked Nicky.

She looked at him, cradling the amphora to herself. “Everything we left behind but didn’t want to lose,” she said, and then looked around the rest of the site as if seeing it for the first time. Everyone else had disappeared hours ago, and Josef could hear the distant sounds of the New Year’s celebrations starting in the new part of the town.

“Back to the rooms,” said Andy, standing up, keeping the amphora in her arms. “Come on.”

They cleared up and covered over their finds so they’d be protected for Alcubierre and his men to find. Josef had a feeling they wouldn’t be back here.

Back at the rooms they’d taken, Andy made them light every lamp then finally, carefully set the amphora down. It was still caked in dirt, but she ignored that in favour of fishing out a knife and starting to work the stopper open. Josef couldn’t help thinking that the experts and historians they’d been working with would be horrified, but this was Andy’s property. Even if 1700 years had passed, it was still hers to do as she liked with.

Nicky came to stand next to him and Josef instinctively reached out to take his hand, thinking of all the pieces of themselves they’d left scattered over the years, in places that had been a home, however briefly. They tried to keep the most important things at their house in Malta, things like all the rings Nicky had bought Josef over the years, or the drawings and poems Josef had made for him, but it wasn't always possible. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if some disaster overtook Malta and they lost all of their things there in one swoop.

Perhaps they should arrange to have some sort of vault built under the house to keep it all safe.

“Come on you fucker,” muttered Andy, and then the stopper finally came out. She tossed it to one side then carefully tipped the amphora up, letting the contents drop onto the table.

There was a lot of muck and dirt, and some scraps that might once have been cloth but which disintegrated into dust as they came out. There was a handful of rusted coins, a pair of daggers that Josef could all too easily imagine Quynh wielding, and a couple of bits of jewellery.

“Ah,” said Andy softly, and reached down to pull free a necklace. The string it had been on fell apart as Andy lifted the pendent but she didn’t pay any mind to it, staring at the teardrop-shaped metal with emotional eyes.

“She gave me this for our thousand year anniversary,” she said softly. “I thought I had lost it for good.”

“Nothing we hold in our hearts is truly lost,” said Nicolo quietly. His hand clenched tighter to Josef’s and he clung back, but didn’t mover closer to him. This moment was for Andy, was for all they’d lost.

And all they’d get back.

“We will find her, Andy,” Josef said, feeling the certainty of it in his mind. “However long it takes, whatever else happens. One day we will see her face again.”

Andy let out a tired sigh. “I really hope so, Josef,” she said, and then there was a crack in her voice.

Josef immediately let go of Nicky and moved to hug her, holding her close in his arms as Nicky moved to hold her from the other side.

Outside, the church bells started tolling midnight and there were cheers and shouts as the new year began. Josef squeezed his eyes shut and prayed that this one would be the one that would bring their lost sister back to them.

[flawedamythyst]

On The Tenth Day of Christmas

Thanks to @kangofu-cb for giving me an idea of how to incorporate lords a leaping, I’m sorry I took your cute trip to the ballet and made it about European colonialism.

There are probably 50 things wrong with this, historically speaking, not least of which is that Ethiopia was known as Abyssinia then, but I was trying to simplify things so I didn’t have to put in a huge amount of exposition. instead I just have to put in an apology A/N at the start. Historical fic, the gift that keeps giving.

1896

Joe was never really sure if he liked ballet. It always seemed like a very sanitised version of dancing, and just sitting back and watching without being able to join in, or at the very least have a little jig to the music, felt wrong somehow.

That said, it was incredible to watch the beauty and grace that the dancers could move with, and to see a story unfurl through just the movements of their bodies.

Besides, it was dark in the auditorium and Nicky had reached over to take his hand only a few minutes into the first scene. As long as Joe had Nicky beside him, he could happily sit through anything.

The scene they were currently watching featured four princes and an ensemble of their retinues dancing for the princess. Joe eyed the tight fit of the dancer’s outfits over their bums and wondered if they would come into fashion for men off-stage as well, and if he could persuade Nicky into a pair of them.

“That’s him,” said Nicky quietly in his ear and Joe drew his attention away to follow Nicky’s nod up at one of the boxes. A group of men were sat in it but Joe recognised the one he was looking for immediately from the photos Andy had found for them. Joe had to admit that for all he liked the classic cleanness of a sketch, photos made identifying people a lot easier.

“Do you think we can persuade him?” he asked, and got shushed by someone behind them. Nicky just shrugged back.

“We have to try,” he said, quieter than Joe had been.

It was a long ballet and although there were several intermissions, Joe wasn’t too surprised when he saw their target getting up midway through one of the acts to shuffle out of the box. He’d been knocking back champagne like water and almost certainly needed to pee.

“Now,” said Nicky, and they both got up, creeping out of the auditorium as quietly as possible, then moving fast to get up to the next level and the corridor that ran along behind the boxes.

Their target was still in the bathroom when they walked in, washing his hands and frowning at himself in the mirror. Joe carefully shut the door behind them and stood in front of it, letting Nicky go along and check that all the stalls were empty.

The target ignored them until he turned away to head for the door and Joe didn't move, just smiling at him and rather pointedly pulling the revolver out of his jacket pocket.

"What is the meaning of this?" asked Blanc, backing up a few steps and glancing around for a way out.

There wasn't one.

"You don't need to worry," said Nicky, having made sure they were alone in the bathroom. "We just want to have a little talk with you. No one is going to get hurt."

Blanc clearly didn't believe a word of it. "Help!" he shouted. "Someone! Help!"

"These walls are very thick," said Joe, cheerfully. "They wanted to make sure no noise got through into the auditorium to ruin the show for other people."

"You don't want to ruin the show for anyone, do you, Alberto?" asked Nicky.

Blanc gave them both a terrified look, then took a deep breath and straightened up, and Joe could see him pulling the dignity of his office around him. He had been a diplomat for many years before joining the cabinet, and had almost certainly been in some tricky situations before.

"If I'm not back in my seat soon, someone will come looking."

"Don't worry, this won't take long," said Nicky. "We just wanted to talk to you about the invasion of Ethiopia."

Blanc blinked several times. "What?" That was clearly the last thing he'd been expecting.

"You are the minister for foreign affairs," said Nicky. "I'm sure you spend a great deal of time talking about Ethiopia, and the invasion."

"The unwarranted invasion," Joe added. “The invasion based on a cruel trick and a nasty lie.”

"The one that's going very badly for you at the moment," finished Nicky.

Blanc stared at them both, then his eyes fixed on Joe. "I won't tell you anything about our plans."

"You don't need to," said Joe. "You're already losing."

"We just wanted to make sure that when the cabinet reconvenes after the New Year break, you will tell the prime minister that you believe you should end the war now," said Nicky. "After all, you have been chased beyond Ethiopia's borders, and any further aggression will be met with similar humiliating defeats. Why would you want to keep going through that?"

"It does make your shiny new country look very silly," said Joe.

"I remember when the Italian states had some dignity," added Nicky, then he made a face, because no matter how many years it had been since he had lived in Genoa, he still held so many of the prejudices of his youth. "Well, some of them. Don't you want that again?"

"Or what?" asked Blanc, lifting his chin. "Or you will murder me?"

"No," said Joe, "we're not that kind of men. But we are going to go to Ethiopia as soon as we leave here, to join our companions. And let me tell you, none of your armed forces want to face us across a battlefield."

"Look," said Nicky, taking on the calm and reasonable tone that always ended with Joe agreeing with whatever he said. "I care about the Italian nation as much as you do. I want it to succeed into the future. Wasting resources on a war that you cannot win when you could be building something new at home, creating a better society for the whole country, is madness."

"Madness like fighting against your own nation?" asked Blanc, staring at Nicky. "What kind of Italian are you, to think you could talk me into surrender?"

"A hopeful one," said Nicky. "I don't want the Italian nation to be known for any part of this cruel colonialism, this desire to invade other countries for no better reason than that they are there, but I am afraid it is too late for that. This is the line I am drawing, though. Tell your prime minister that enough is enough. It's time to give in."

Blanco stared at him for a long time, then shook his head. "I don't think you understand. Even if I did say any of that to the prime minister, he would merely disregard me. He won't let us be defeated, not by Africans. We will press on and take Ethiopia, and give Italy the beginnings of an empire that we deserve. A second Roman empire."

Nicky sighed and looked at Joe. “I tried.”

“I know, habibi,” said Joe, tucking away his gun. “I can only hope that other, wiser heads will prevail.”

Nicky snorted. “When do they ever?”

He looked at Blanc one last time. “Think about what I have said. You will only face further defeat if you press on.”

Blanc didn’t bother responding and Joe and Nicky slipped out of the bathroom, running for the exit of La Scala before Blanc could summon his security to come after them.

“Damnit,” said Nicky as they burst out a side entrance and started to head back towards their hotel. “Andy is going to be so smug. She said this wouldn’t work.”

“That’s because Andy doesn’t have the faith in humanity that you do,” said Joe, and grabbed Nicky’s hand, pulling him to a stop so he could press a kiss to the back of it. “You tried. That is all we can do. And I love you for it, for wanting to end this without further bloodshed.”

“I don’t understand why so many European nations are always set on destroying and killing,” said Nicky tiredly. “Eight hundred years, and nothing has changed.”

He looked so sad and worn down that Joe couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him properly, and damn the public streets they were on, It was quiet and dark, no one was going to pay attention.

“One day they will,” he said softly, hand cupped around Nicky’s cheek. “One day we will see humanity change for the better.”

“Even if we have to live as long as Andy to see it?” asked Nicky with a half-smile.

“Even if,” said Joe.

There was a shout from behind them and they both pulled apart. “And until then, we might need to do a bit of running,” said Joe, and they both took off, away from the security chasing after them.

[flawedamythyst]

On the Third Day of Christmas 

For @ameliahcrowley 's prompt of A Lion in Winter. This is more Joe/Nicky as background extras to all that drama, but I hope you like it anyway. I’ll probably do your other prompt for a later chapter of this.

Also, technically the hens are Angevin rather than French, but that felt close enough, right?

1183

"Why do we always let them talk us into this stuff?” asked Yusuf, scattering corn out to the chickens clucking around his feet.

"Andromache gives us that look," said Nicolo, bending to collect another egg and add it to his basket.

Yusuf didn't need to ask which look, he could picture it already. Andromache had been wearing it when she'd announced they were going to Chinon to catch up with an old friend. 

She’d added, “And they’ll all be celebrating Christmas, Nicolo, so you can join in with that,” which had stopped Yusuf from asking any further questions. In the last eighty-odd years they’d been together, Nicolo had only been able to celebrate his festival with other Christians a handful of times. Yusuf had thought it would be nice for him to be in a community for it this year.

He really should have asked Andromache and Quynh more questions, Yusuf thought as a chicken attacked his foot. Andromache had brought them to an enormous castle filled with the court of a king who ruled a vast amount of land in the north west of Europe, his three sons and their followers, the neighbouring king and his sister and their retinues and, finally, the king’s estranged wife, who turned out to be the friend Androomache had talked about. She and Quynh had immediately merged in with her other ladies, taking part in all the feasts and entertainments planned for the festive season.

Yusuf and Nicolo had not been so lucky.

“The cook’s going to need more eggs than this for all the royal breakfasts,” said Nicolo, frowning down at his basket. “Help me look, Yusuf?”

Yusuf gently nudged away the chicken still desperately pecking at his foot. “Of course.”

“Eleanor doesn’t have any male attendants,” Andromache had said, just before disappearing into the queen’s chambers. “You two will have to fit in somewhere else. With this many guests, there’s bound to be jobs available, try the kitchens, or the stables maybe.”

It was the third day of the Christmas period, and neither Nicolo nor Yusuf had had much of a chance to get involved in any of the celebrations. Yusuf had heard enough gossip about the complicated family dynamic and all the politics going on to think that being a part of the court properly wouldn’t have been more relaxing, but that didn’t make getting up at dawn to be attacked by chickens any better.

“Here, Nico,” he said, spotting a huddle of feathers tucked behind the hen house. There were three hens, all carefully crouched over their eggs and staring at Yusuf with beady eyes.

He was going to get pecked again. He could just tell.

“Oh dear,” said Nicolo when he saw them. “The poor things just want to hatch their eggs.” 

The man’s tender heart was going to be the death of Yusuf, immortality or not. How could anyone who had seen the things they had all seen still be as gentle-hearted as Nicolo was? Not for the first time, Yusuf felt a wild urge to pull Nicolo into his arms and kiss him until he realised how precious he was.

He didn’t though. Despite all his careful conversations and open questions, Yusuf hadn’t been able to divine how Nicolo would feel to know that his closest friend was also in love with him, and there was entirely too much at risk for Yusuf to be more bold about it. 

Nicolo carefully moved towards the hens, who all started clucking and puffing up their feathers. “I’m sorry, little ones,” he said in a soft, sad voice. “We need those eggs.”

Yusuf would set fire to the world to stop Nicolo sounding that sad. “Are you sure we will?” he asked, looking at the hens and trying to find a way for them to keep their eggs. “How many nobles are likely to have breakfast this morning? It seemed like several of them were up very late last night.”

“Prince Richard certainly was,” said Nicolo without looking around, still carefully moving towards the hens. “I was awake around two last night so I slipped to the chapel to pray while it was empty, and I saw Prince Richard and King Philip kissing in the corridor, before they disappeared into Prince Richard’s bedroom. I can’t imagine either of them will be awake early today if they spent the night together.”

He said it in such a casual, easy tone, as if he were talking about nothing more than a couple of servants stealing some ale rather than two members of royalty engaging in sodomy.

For a few seconds, Yusuf didn’t know how to respond and then he said, carefully, “And you don’t mind that they were doing that?”

“Of course not,” said Nicolo, still focused on the hens. He reached out a hand for an egg and the nearest one went for him with her beak, making him pull it back quickly to avoid injury. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know,” said Yusuf, feeling dazed at how easily this had come up on its own, when trying to turn the conversation to it had proved so difficult in the past. “Many men would.”

Nicolo finally turned around to look at him, frowning at whatever he’d heard in Yusuf’s tone. “I’ve never been one of them.” He hesitated, eyes darting over Yusuf’s face and then carefully added, “If anything, I was envious of them, for finding it so easy to take that step with each other.”

Yusuf just stared at him for what felt like a full minute, but was probably only a few seconds. He could see trepidation and fear in Nicolo’s eyes but hope as well, buried deep, and he realised, with a startling bolt of joy, that they had far more in common than he ever could have guessed when they first met. It wasn’t just the immortality, or the joy of travelling the world, or the depths of their different faiths; it was this as well. They were both terrified of letting this last secret out into the air between them.

“I can understand that,” he said, his ears ringing as if he were about to step off a cliff. He reached out to touch Nicolo’s hand, not quite daring to hold it. “It’s not an easy step when you risk losing a friendship, especially one that has become the bedrock of your life.”

Nicolo let out a soft exhale. “Yusuf,” he said in a hushed tone. “You’re not talking about Richard and Philip now, are you?”

“No,” said Yusuf, feeling giddy as he let himself give in to the surge of emotion that rolled through him whenever he thought too much about what Nicolo meant to him. “What do I care for those two idiots? What can their friendship mean beside one that has endured for eighty years, that has crossed continents? Nicolo, every moment I am with you gives meaning to this long, long life of ours, and I would never want to risk losing your regard, not even for a single second, but if there is any hope of us taking a step beyond it, of building something else alongside it-”

“Yes,” said Nicolo, interrupting him as he grabbed Yusuf’s hand and squeezed it tight. “Yusuf, yes, whatever you want, I would be overjoyed to give it to you.”

Yusuf couldn’t find words for the surge of joy and love bursting open in his chest, so instead he stepped in close to Nicolo, eyes fixed on his face for any sign of rejection, and set the hand not clinging on to Nicolo’s against his cheek. Nicolo’s lips parted in a soft gasp and Yusuf couldn’t hold back any longer, not when it seemed like he didn’t need to. He kissed Nicolo, starting out gentle and swiftly deepening it as Nicolo kissed him in return, holding nothing back as he wrapped an arm around Yusuf’s shoulders.

The basket got left in the chicken’s yard and none of the royals had eggs for breakfast that morning. Yusuf and Nicolo missed the rest of the festive period, and all the royal politics revolving around the succession, in favour of finding a discrete inn where they could spend days at a time in bed.

Nicolo said later that it was the best Christmas he’d ever had.

[flawedamythyst]

On The Fifth Day Of Christmas

(This one comes with a general apology to any Spanish readers, because I didn’t realise I was making them the bad guys for the second day in a row until I was almost finished. Promise I’ll stop picking on you now.)

1572

Quynh gave a little whoop of delight as she swung across from the rigging of their ship to the deck of the Spanish galleon, bow slung over her back so she could hang on with both hands. Yusuf couldn’t help grinning at her sheer delight as he wiped his scimitar off on the shirt of the man he’d just killed, then sheathed it. The battle had been short but brutal, and more of the Spanish crew were lying dead than were huddled on their knees in surrender.

“I love it when we win without any of us dying,” said Quynh happily, and Yusuf glanced around to see that none of the bodies on the deck belonged to their crew. Beppo was glaring down at a long cut on his forearm as if he could frighten it into healing, but everyone else was well enough to be starting to corral the defeated sailors to be taken over to their ship and locked in the hold. 

“Although, Nico,” added Quynh, “don’t think I didn’t see you nearly getting stabbed.”

Yusuf spun to stare at Nico. He hadn’t noticed anything like that in the midst of the fight. “What? Habibi-”

Nico let out a sigh and glared half-heartedly at Quynh. “Don’t look so worried, Yusuf, it wasn’t that close at all. She’s exaggerating.” He waved at one of the bodies littering the deck. “He’s the one lying dead now.”

Yusuf stepped closer to take Nico’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “It doesn't matter how close it is, any risk to you is too much.”

“Then we really shouldn’t have become pirates,” said Nico dryly, and leaned in to kiss Yusuf properly. “Stop fussing,” he murmured against his lips. “You know even death won’t stand between us.”

Yusuf beamed at him. “A much better wedding vow than that ‘till death us do part’ one,” he said. “If we ever do die permanently, you know I will stay with you, right into whatever comes next.”

“Yusuf,” said Nico, his eyes shining with love in the way they always did when Yusuf let his more poetical side get the better of him.

“Wedding vow?” repeated Quynh. “Is there something you should be telling your sister?”

Yusuf didn’t get a chance to reply because a body came bursting out of the captain’s cabin, hitting the deck with a loud groan, and Andrea strode out after it. “Wrong fucking ship,” she announced as the captain huddled at her feet.

“It’s not a slave ship?” asked Nico, frowning as he glanced around at the distinct design of the Spanish galleons that generally transported slaves across the Atlantic.

“It is a slave ship,” corrected Andrea, “but it has already unloaded the people they stole in Las Palmas, and is now taking sugar back to Europe.”

Yusuf sighed. “So this was a waste.”

“No,” said Nico, “not a waste. Not if it means one less ship to sail back to Africa for another run.”

“Too late for the people already suffering in Las Palmas,” said Yusuf, and Nico’s mouth twisted unhappily as he nodded in tired agreement.

“It’s also not a waste if we take some of the sugar before we burn the ship,” added Quynh, and she grinned at Nico. “You can make us that sticky dessert thing.”

“Oooh, yes,” said Andrea, dragging the captain to his feet and then shoving him at a member of their crew to be locked up with the other prisoners. “The one with almonds.”

Nico let out a tired sigh but Yusuf could see the smile hiding behind it, because he loved spoiling their sisters. “If I must.”

“Let’s see what else this ship has for us,” said Andrea, looking around to check everything was in hand. “We could do with some brandy, if they’ve got any.”

“Scavenger hunt!” announced Quynh. “Best find gets to decide where we head next.” She darted off without waiting for a response and Yusuf followed her down inside the ship, turning towards the officers’ cabins.

Nico followed him and they went through the storage lockers together, working efficiently to find anything worth taking. They had plenty of practice at this after nearly a decade of chasing down slave ships and freeing their captives.

“Bible,” said Nico, holding up the book and then shoving it into his pocket. He already had one of his own, but he didn’t like to leave copies to burn with the rest of the ship. “As well as a rosary. Strange that they never stopped to consider how Christ would feel about them enslaving and brutalising their fellow man.”

“Somehow, these people never do,” said Yusuf, digging in a chest through old clothes and finding nothing worth taking.

The next cabin was the carpenter’s and had several nice tools that they packed in a canvas bag to keep. Yusuf slung it over his shoulder and they moved to the next cabin, which seemed to just be storage.

“We’re fine for spare rope and sailcloth at the moment, aren’t we?” he asked, moving through the boxes and bundles.

“Yes, we picked up more from…” started Nico, and then his voice trailed off. “Oh.”

Yusuf turned towards him to see he’d opened a small wooden box and was staring at the contents with surprise. “I don’t think the sugar was the only thing they picked up in Las Palmas.”

Yusuf moved to look over his shoulder and found himself staring down at a trove of golden doubloons and assorted jewellery.

“Oh wow,” he said, reaching out a hand to touch a golden pendant. “We’ll be taking this with us.”

“Yes,” agreed Nico, then picked out a ring, a wide band of gold with a sun engraved in it. “You should take this one.”

“That one in particular?” asked Yusuf, because he could see at least four other rings in the box.

“Yes,” said Nico, turning to smile at him. “Il mio sole.”

Yusuf laughed, filling up with a rush of love that he still wasn’t used to, not even after four hundred years. “You old romantic.”

“Very old,” agreed Nico. “But yet, still the youngest of us all.”

Yusuf rolled his eyes at the reminder of the three years that separated them, then held out his hand for the ring. Instead of handing it over, Nico took his hand and turned it so he could gently slip the ring on for him, onto Yusuf’s ring finger. “Perfect fit,” he said, pleased. “As if it were made for you.”

“You mean, like I was made for you?” asked Yusuf. “Ya amar, I love you so much it feels like all I am made of, every particle of me has been saturated with you, every hollow space filled up with you, every beat of my heart says your name.”

“Yusuf,” said Nico in a hoarse voice, and then leaned in to kiss him. Yusuf wrapped his arms around him to hold him close, kissing back with every grain of burning passion inside him.

There was a bang from somewhere towards the middle of the boat. “Hurry up or we’ll burn this ship with you still inside!” shouted Andrea.

Yusuf sighed and pulled away. “It would be worth it to die in your arms,” he said to Nico.

Nico smiled at him and tapped Yusuf’s new ring. “Not even death will part us,” he reminded him, then pulled away. “But it would be very inconvenient, so…” 

Yusuf sighed, reaching for the bag of carpentry tools and slinging it back over his shoulder as Nico shut the wooden box of gold so he could lift it. “Once again, harsh reality gets in the way of our romance.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for it later,” said Nico, and hefted the box pointedly. “Best find gets to pick our destination, remember? I think we should go somewhere where we can take a few days just for us.” He glanced back at Yusuf, and his smile went tentative. “Perhaps where we could say some other vows to each other, and start to call each other husband.”

Yusuf wasn’t sure he’d be able to contain this much happiness without exploding. “That sounds perfect.”

[flawedamythyst]

On The Eleventh Day of Christmas...

Another one based on @ameliahcrowley‘s prompts, yes I did get 3 ficlets out of your one Ask, enjoy!

1969

It was cold in Edinburgh and Joe shivered as they stepped out of the cinema. Beside him, he saw Nicky’s arm twitch as if to wrap around him, then go still. There were far too many other people around to risk that kind of touch, not without causing more drama than they could really be bothered with today.

“Well, that wasn’t how it happened at all,” announced Andy as they turned to head back to their safehouse, walking past the massive poster proclaiming The Lion In Winter on the side of the cinema. “And Eleanor wouldn’t have been seen dead in most of those outfits.”

Booker turned to stare at her. “You knew her?”

“Of course,” said Andy.

Booker shook his head. "Sorry, just... You knew Eleanor of Aquitaine? And you've not mentioned it before?"

Andy shrugged. "Why would I?"

Booker made a quietly frustrated noise and stared up at the sky. "Perhaps because I have been talking about wanting to see this film since it came out, months ago?"

"I can tell you how it really went down, if you want?” said Andy, and Booker gave her a pained look.

"Please tell me you weren't there that Christmas."

"Oh no, I was," said Andy. "We all were." She glanced over at Nicky and Joe. "Right? You can tell Booker what it was like as well."

Joe cleared his throat. "Actually, if you remember, we never met the Queen, or any of the rest of the family, and had nothing to do with the drama. We were sent to work in the kitchens."

"I can confirm that Philip and Richard were fucking," said Nicky in what pretended to be a helpful tone but Joe knew was just calculated to make Booker groan.

It worked.

"Oh yes, that's right," said Andy, looking off into the distance. "That was back when we were testing your limits, so we told you there wasn't a place in Eleanor's entourage for you."

Joe took a moment to take that in. “What do you mean, testing our boundaries?”

“Oh, you know,” said Andy, shrugging as they weaved around a group of men outside a pub. It was several days after Hogmanay, but that didn’t seem to have stopped the Scottish from continuing to drink as if the festive period would never end. “Back when we wanted to see just how long you’d keep following our orders without cracking.”

Joe looked at Nicky, who looked as confused as he felt.

Andy glanced at them both and let out a laugh. “Didn’t we ever mention that? Those first few decades we were all together, you two just followed us around like little ducklings without ever considering going off to do your own thing. Quynh and I wanted to test how far we could go before you'd tell us to fuck off."

"So you sent us to be kitchen servants at the royal court of a family who were on the verge of imploding," said Nicky, carefully.

"Yes, exactly," said Andy. "Oh, don't look at me like that, it worked out pretty well for you guys, didn't it? As I recall, you did fuck off after only a week or two of working every hour of the day."

"I'm a little tempted to stab you right now," said Nicky conversationally.

Booker frowned. "Did you do the same thing with me?"

"Nope," said Andy, “I didn't need to. You made it very clear from the start that you had no interest in what we were doing and just wanted to do your own thing. You barely let us help you get back to France."

"And look how well that went for me," muttered Booker, clearly thinking about losing his family. His hand twitched towards the pocket his flask was in, but he didn't pull it out. "Maybe I should have been more like those two ducklings."

"No," said Joe, swiftly. "Oh no. You are not calling us that."

The sadness was wiped off Booker's face as he gave Joe a wide, shit-eating grin. "You really think you can stop me, duckling?"

Joe went for him and Booker took off, racing down the street, weaving in and out of the other pedestrians. He had longer legs than Joe but Joe was wily and knew how to pace himself to keep up. They crossed the street, ducking down a side road and leaving Andy and Nicky far behind.

"Keep up, duckling!" Booker called back over his shoulder, and Joe put on a burst of speed. He could hear the laughter in Booker's voice, contrasting with the sadness that was usually there, and he was more than happy to play the fool like this to keep it there.

They burst out of the side road onto Princes Street, one of the main thoroughfares in Edinburgh, and suddenly there were people everywhere. Booker nearly ran into two woman and had to dodge abruptly, calling out apologies. Joe looped around them a few steps behind him and got a glare from them both.

There was a loud squeal near-by, and suddenly the air was filled with the loud sound of bagpipes. A troop of kilted pipers had formed up and were starting to march along the road.

Booker saw his chance and darted across in front of them, getting yelled at by the band leader as Joe was left behind on the wrong side of the street as Booker ran off up another road.

Joe stopped in place, watching the pipers go by. He'd get Booker eventually.

They were all staying in the same house, after all.

[flawedamythyst]

On the Ninth Day Of Christmas...

1824

Joe didn’t think Sebastian really wanted them there but when they’d taken rooms at the inn in his village before Christmas, he had just looked resigned and told them not to make a spectacle of themselves.

Andy had taken offence at that but Joe thought it was probably a fair request, given all that had happened the last time they’d seen him, when bringing him home from Russia had involved multiple incidents that might be referred to as ‘spectacles’.

They’d kept away from his family celebration of Christmas, staying in the inn where Joe had managed to arranged for a roasted bird and some pears for Nicky, as was their tradition, and Andy had found several bottles of fine Cognac. It was only afterwards, as the village settled into the post-Christmas period of visiting each other and preparing for the New Year that Joe, Nicky and Andy started to get out and about, not visiting Sebastian directly but taking care to be around wherever he and his family happened to find themselves.

“You again,” said Sebastian tiredly, when Joe and Nicky met him outside the market where he and his youngest son were carrying home their shopping.

“Us again,” agreed Joe, working to sound more cheerful than he felt. “Surely you can’t blame us for wanting to see how our newest brother is doing?”

Sebastian gave him a very tired look that Joe took to mean he still wasn’t happy to be reminded of his immortal status.

“Are these men your brothers, papa?” asked the son, giving Joe a very confused look. “I thought you only had Tante Maria.”

“Sometimes family doesn’t need to be related to you,” said Nicky. “You can form family bonds with people who are there for you when you need them most that mean just as much, if not more, than sharing the same blood.”

The boy looked even more confused at that and Sebastian sent them a glare that Joe didn’t think they deserved. “You are not my family,” he hissed, and set his hand on his son’s shoulder. “I already have one.”

Joe felt his heart break at the gesture, because there was no way to protect Sebastian from the hurt that was coming his way. “I know, I’m sorry, mon frère,” he said. “But you will need us in time and it will be easier if you know us, and we know you, before then.”

Sebastian just glared at them and marched his son off towards his home.

There had been a heavy fall of snow on New Year’s Eve itself so the party the village had planned was postponed two days for the first clear night. They all gathered in the largest barn in the area, bringing along whatever food and drink they had left over from the Christmas season, and a handful of musicians set up near a cleared area to provide dancing.

Joe, Nicky and Andy were welcomed in, despite being strangers, and before long Andy was dancing with whomever would stand up with her. Sebastian had glared at them when he saw them arrive and was now happily ignoring them, dancing with his wife while his sons either ran around with the other children or stood in the corner with a handful of teenagers, trying to look like adults.

“How are we going to help him with his loss?” asked Nicky.

“I don’t know,” said Joe, with a sigh. 

They were standing to one side of the barn, watching the dancing. Joe had been hoping that some other pair of men would stand up together and give him a sign that he could take Nicky’s hand and lead him into a dance, but none had yet. He’d lost track of where he was able to do what with Nicky in public without people getting upset years ago. Half the time he just did what he wanted anyway, because he loved the man at his side and wasn’t afraid to let everyone know it, but this was not the time to get chased out of the town. Not when Nicky was right and Sebastian was going to need help with his loss, in time.

Instead, he watched the women being twirled around by the men, skirts flying wide as they laughed with joy. Sebastian turned out to be a better dancer than Joe would have guessed, twirling his wife around the dancefloor with steady hands, beaming down at her as if she were the only woman in the room.

“Monsieur le Livre was in the Russian campaign? Really?” he heard a woman say behind him, and automatically tuned in to the conversation.

“I know,” said her friend. “You wouldn’t think it to look at him. All the men that went east either never came back, or came back so broken that you’d think they were decades older than they were. And then there’s him. To look at him, you’d think he was ten years younger than he is. He’s five years older than his wife there, you know.”

“No!” gasped the first woman and Joe felt himself wince, wondering how they could talk to Sebastian about moving on before there was more gossip about him.

He had a feeling that there was nothing that any of them could say that Sebastian would really hear.

He watched the dancing for a few minutes longer, this time taking in the grey hairs that had multiplied on Madame le Livre’s head, and how she didn’t bend as easily or quickly as Sebastian. When they moved to the side at the end of the dance, it was clearly because she was tired whereas Sebastian could have kept on dancing all night. Instead he went to get a drink for her then stood at her side as she drank it, hand on her shoulder and a half-smile of devotion on his face.

Devotion, and a trace of fear.

Joe thought about what it would be like if Nicky was the one growing steadily older while Joe stayed stuck at the same age, and the wave of emotion at just the thought was almost more than he could bear. He reached out instinctively, taking his husband’s hand and damn anyone watching.

“Joe? Are you well?” asked Nicky.

Joe took a deep breath, shoving aside the thought of Nicky ever leaving him. They had died together the first time, they would stay together for all the rest of their long lives. He had to believe that.

“He has so much pain coming, and I don’t think we can do anything to stop it,” he said, rather than mention that to Nicky.

Nicky sighed. “I know,” he said. “I know, Joe.” His hand squeezed around Joe’s fingers and they just clung on to each other.

[flawedamythyst]

On The Fourth Day Of Christmas

Previous chapters now available on AO3 HERE.

1489

The dawn chorus was loudly singing outside the window of their room. Yusuf lay half-awake, idly identifying the birds he could hear. Blackbirds, chaffinches, thrush…was that a wren?

Nico was already fully awake, as he always was before Yusuf, but he was warm and relaxed in Yusuf’s arms, apparently content to lie there for now, and Yusuf couldn’t imagine ever wanting to move.

There was a clang from outside as either Andrea or Quynh fetched water from the well, and the familiar domestic sound made something settle in his chest. They’d only been here a couple of weeks, after they’d escaped the end of the siege of Baza and needed somewhere to regroup and decide what to do next, but it didn’t take much for them to make somewhere a home these days, not if they were all together.

“What if we didn’t get up?” asked Yusuf, tightening his arm around Nico’s chest as he felt him start to shift as if he might pull away.

Nico huffed out a laugh. “Andrea will come and get us.”

Yusuf groaned, pressing his face against the back of Nico’s neck. “Can't we tell her it’s another of your religious holidays?”

It had been a quiet Christmas that year. Nico had spent most of the day in prayer, and Yusuf had known that he’d been praying for the Christian monarchs to end their conquest of Granada and leave the last few Muslim areas on the Iberian peninsula in peace. Yusuf’s own prayers over the last few months had been very similar, but he didn’t think either of them held out much hope of them being answered.

“It is,” said Nico, clasping his hand around Yusuf’s to hold it close to his chest. “The Feast of the Holy Innocents. A day to commemorate the children who were murdered by Herod when he was searching for Christ.”

Yusuf hadn’t heard of that one before, but that didn’t surprise him. Nico didn’t always talk about his religious observances and, when he did, there seemed to be an endless stream of saints days and other key dates to remember.

“That doesn’t sound like a very upbeat one,” said Yusuf.

Nico snorted with amusement. “No, not really.” He turned over in Yusuf’s arms until he was facing him, which was pretty much the only movement Yusuf was happy to let him make as it brought him closer to Yusuf and not further away.

Once Nico’s face was in front of Yusuf’s, he couldn’t resist leaning in to kiss him. Just as it had every time they’d kissed since that first time, surrounded by chickens, his heart lifted with joy at getting to call this man his.

“Could we tell her it’s The Feast of Holy Lovers instead, and that it’s vitally important we spend the day fucking in the name of your God?” asked Yusuf.

Nico laughed hard enough to snort, then dipped his head to press his face into Yusuf’s neck. Yusuf took his chance to stroke his hand over Nico’s hair. 

“God, I can remember when a joke like that would have scandalised me,” said Nico. “I think if we were going to try and convince her of that, we’d have needed to start a century or two ago. There’s no way she’d believe we’ve just not observed it over the years.”

Yusuf sighed, but that was very true. There wasn’t a chance he’d have let any excuse to spend a day in bed with Nico go. “Well, maybe-”

There was a crash as the door slammed open, then Quynh came running in and jumped right on top of them both, knocking the air from their lungs.

“Time to get up!” she announced brightly as they both groaned. She bounced excitedly on top of them, bony elbows digging into delicate parts. “You’ve got five minutes and then I bring a bucket of water to throw over you.” She bounced one last time and then was up and out of the room before either Nico or Yusuf had fully recovered.

“Oh god,” said Nico, “why were we concerned about Andrea being the one to come in?”

“We were naive fools,” said Yusuf, sadly.

“I will be coming in if you two don’t get your arses in gear!” shouted Andrea from the main room of the cottage. “And I’ll bring my axe!”

Yusuf sighed as Nico pulled away from him, sitting up and running a hand over his face. “Maybe we should separate from them for a few years,” he suggested. “That cottage in Malta might still be there?”

“That sounds blissful,” said Nico, reaching for his tunic. Yusuf finally sat up as well, resigning himself to having to actually engage with the outside world for the day rather than staying holed up with Nico. “Maybe after this is all over.”

Yusuf felt the heavy weight of reality settling back in now he wasn’t solely focused on having Nico in his arms. “You mean, when the last Muslim is chased from the peninsula, or enslaved?” he asked, tiredly.

Nico paused in the process of fastening his belt, then came over to cup Yusuf’s face in his hands. “It might not come to that,” he said. “There is still hope.”

Yusuf managed to nod and Nico bent to kiss him, but the truth was, they had both lived too many years not to know a losing battle when they saw one.

Well, they’d do what they could, try to keep as many people as possible safe, and afterwards, he and Nico could go to Malta.

And until then, he would hold on to the little joys, like waking each morning to birdsong outside the window and the warmth of Nico in his arms.

[flawedamythyst]

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas...

And so we’re at an end! Thanks to everyone who has been reading along! A reminder that these are all now on AO3: HERE if you missed any days.

2020

Joe hadn’t realised how many Christmas traditions they’d collected over the centuries until Nile starting asking them questions about each and every one.

“Isn’t Nicky cooking?”

“Not on Christmas Day,” said Joe, frowning at the pheasant in the oven and wondering how much longer it needed. After nearly 900 years of roasting various kinds of birds for Christmas, he really should be an expert by now, even if it was only once a year. Still, he hadn’t used the oven in their safe house in Antigua before and he didn’t know how much he should trust it.

“Huh,” said Nile and opened the fridge, staring at the contents. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Praying,” said Joe, deciding to give the pheasant a while longer before starting on the potatoes.

“Oh,” said Nile. Her hand went to fiddle with her cross necklace and she shut the fridge, turning away. “I guess that makes sense.”

“I like to take this day to thank God for all he has given me over the year,” said Nicky, and Joe spun around to see him in the doorway, looking relaxed and happy. “This year he has blessed me with a new sister, so there is a lot to be grateful for.”

Nile rolled her eyes at the same time as she turned away from him to hide her smile, and Joe felt his grin widen.

“Can I h-” Nicky started to say, but Joe knew what was coming and cut him off.

“Don’t even think about offering to help, unless you want me to chase you out of the room. And you know I will.”

Nicky held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Hey, Nile, did we ever tell you about the time that Joe chased Booker through Edinburgh over a joke, and Booker got so lost it took him three days to come back?”

“He deserved it,” muttered Joe.

“How do you get lost in Edinburgh?” asked Nile. “I didn’t think it was that big.”

“Apparently it is when you need to stop at every pub on the way home,” said Joe bitterly, and there was an awkward pause. Joe bit his tongue because he’d told himself that there wasn’t going to be any shadow cast over this Christmas by Booker’s absence.

“Oooh, pears!” said Nile, cutting through the moment. She reached out to take one. “Dinner’s going to be a while, right? I’ll just-”

“No!” said Joe, “put it back! I need all those.”

Nile gave him a wide-eyed look and dropped it back in the fruit bowl. “Um. Okay.”

“Joe makes poached pears every year,” said Nicky. “Well, every year recently, before they used to be soaked in honey. They’re very good.” He gave Joe the tiny half-smile of affection that always made Joe’s heart melt. “They were the first gift he ever gave me.”

“Pears were?” asked Nile, then shook her head. “Okay, well, I guess that’s romantic.”

Nicky reached out to take Joe’s hand. “The first gift he gave me, and he has repeated it every year he could ever since.”

“Well, they made you smile,” said Joe, clasping at his hand and letting the love swell in his heart. “You know I would do anything to see you smile.”

“Oh god,” muttered Nile, and left the kitchen. Joe didn’t glance away from Nicky’s face for a moment to watch her go.

****

Three days later, they were walking through the market near them. Nile was technically looking for clothes as she didn’t have any stored at the safehouse like the rest of them did, but her eye was being caught by anything shiny and Nicky and Joe were happily buying anything she wanted for her. It wasn’t as if they had anything else to be doing for a few weeks while Andy finished the physiotherapy Copley had arranged for her to do remotely.

That was the main reason they had all left the house for a few hours. Apparently having to do physiotherapy, and finding that her body had limits now, made Andy really irritable.

“Oh shit, look at this jewellery,” said Nile, pausing at another stall. “It’s beautiful!”

The woman behind the stall beamed at her, then her eyes darted between Nicky and Joe, clearly trying to work out which she should be working on to buy something shiny for Nile. “It’s all handmade,” she said, aiming it at them both in the end. “Finest quality! You won’t find any better souvenir of your visit to our island.”

“Oh!” said Nicky, and his hand darted out to pick something up. “Joe! Look! It’s like your very first one!”

It was a golden ring with a sunburst design on it, and it did look a lot like the one Nicky had given him on that slave ship, hundreds of years and half an ocean away.

“It’s lovely,” said Joe, holding his hand out to take it so he could look but, just like the first time, Nicky only took his hand and turned it, taking off the ring Joe was currently wearing so he could slide the new one on.

“It fits perfectly,” he said. “It’s meant to be.” He looked up at Joe, his face going more serious, and softly murmured, “Not even death will part us," in Greek, the first tongue they had spoken together.

"Not even death," agreed Joe, love fizzing up in his chest.

"Oh god," said Nile. "You're being all gooey again. Do I need to leave you to it?"

"It's our wedding anniversary," said Joe, not taking his eyes off Nicky's face. "We're allowed to be 'gooey'."

"Seriously?" asked Nile. "Today?"

The woman behind the stall cleared her throat in a pointed way and Nicky turned away from Joe, pulling his wallet out to pay her.

"Today," Joe said to Nile. "We were on a pirate ship, 448 years ago.”

In two years they would have to have a proper celebration for their 450th. He must remember to make plans for them to be in Malta or one of their other favourite places for it.

“Jesus,” said Nile, who still found the idea of that many years hard to get her head around. Joe could sympathise, he remembered when he was staring wide-eyed as Andy and Quynh talked about hundreds of years as if they were a drop in the ocean. “That’s, what, nearly to your fifth gold anniversary?”

“All our anniversaries are gold,” said Joe, reaching out to take Nicky’s hand as he finished paying and stepped away from the stall, “because my love has filled my life with sunshine and riches.”

Nile groaned as Nicky smiled at him, clinging to Joe’s hand. “I love you,” he said softly, using Greek again. Joe could only beam back.

****

“Joe!” called Nicky, bursting into the house. “Joe, guess what?”

Joe looked up from where he had been quietly sketching the view from their bedroom in Malta from memory.

"I found goose eggs!" said Nicky, face lit up with joy.

Joe groaned, tipping his head back against the sofa. "Why must you torment me so?"

"Don't you like them?" asked Nile, looking over at them.

Andy started to cackle. "Yeah, Joe, don't you like geese?"

Nicky's smile had turned to amusement now, and Joe knew there was no way of avoiding this. "I hate you all," he said, covering his face with his hands.

"You see, Nile," said Andy, "Joe once had a very nasty encounter with a goose. Well, several geese."

"It was Nicky's fault!" Joe insisted from behind his hands.

"I don't see how that can be true," said Nicky, putting his bag down on the table and coming over to sit next to Joe, pressing a kiss to his forehead, which was the only part of his face not covered by his hands. "They didn't attack me, after all."

"Come collect goose eggs with me, Joe," muttered Joe into his hands, in his best impersonation of Nicky’s faint Genoan accent. “It'll be romantic, Joe."

"So, uh...how badly can a goose hurt someone?"

Andy was still sniggering. "Put it this way, kid, if he hadn’t had our healing he'd have ended up with a wooden leg."

"It was a very angry goose," said Nicky solemnly. Joe just groaned and let his hands drop from his face.

"Damn," said Nile, looking at Joe's leg as if expecting to see some sign of those long ago injuries. "I guess poultry aren't to be meddled with."

"Not geese, anyway," said Nicky.

"Or swans," added Andy. "I got killed by a swan once."

Joe, Nicky and Nile all swivelled their heads to stare at her.

"Why haven't we ever heard this story before?" asked Joe, sitting up straight.

Andy just grinned at them all. "Who said you're hearing it now?" she asked, and got up and walked out of the room.

****

The next night was New Year’s Eve. Nicky made a range of canapes for them to nibble on, Andy provided a host of booze, and Nile told them all firmly that she had the music covered.

“Listen to this,” she said, putting on a CD. “I found it in the market, isn’t it fantastic? Top ten hits of the noughties, played on steel drums! What could be more perfect for a Caribbean New Year party?”

The metallic sound of steel drums started playing a tune that it took Joe a few seconds to recognise as Crazy in Love. He met Nicky's eyes, saw the same pained resignation in them, and then looked back at Nile's excited face.

"Perfect," he said, and wondered how long it would take to engineer some terrible accident happening to the CD.

From the look in Andy’s eye, it wouldn’t be long at all.

“It can be a new tradition for us,” said Nile. “Like the pears and mocking Joe for the goose thing, we can try and find some kinda steel drum music for every New Year’s Eve, to remember this first New Year I’m with y’all.”

And just like that, Joe knew that the CD would be lasting for as long as they could keep it preserved.

“That sounds lovely, Nile,” said Nicky, smiling at her, and then reaching a hand out. “Will you dance with me, then, so we can start a tradition of that as well?”

“I would love to,” said Nile, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the centre of the room. “I guess if anyone is crazy in love, it’s you and Joe.”

Nicky laughed, glancing over at Joe as he started dancing and Joe tipped a wink back at him, settling down to watch.

“You know,” he said casually, “if it feels like we’re getting too many festive traditions, we could always retire the goose thing and replace it with steel drums.”

“Not happening,” said Andy. “Nile, you hear me? I need you to carry on making sure to mention it every year long after I’m gone. That’s what I want my legacy to be, a thousand years of Joe being reminded of how a goose once bested him.”

Joe felt a stab of ice-cold pain at the reminder that Andy wasn’t going to be around to continue these traditions with them into the future, but he suppressed it. Tonight wasn’t the night to be sad about things he couldn’t change.

“I’m on it!” said Nile, clicking her fingers to point at Andy. Joe just sighed.

****

They were relaxing in the sitting room after dinner, all of them except Nicky, who had cooked, silently waiting for one of the others to break first and go do the washing up. Joe was not hopeful that it would be Andy.

“Nile, there’s a church near here who are having an Epiphany service tomorrow. Do you want to come with me?” asked Nicky.

Nile touched the cross at her throat. “Epiphany already,” she said, and shook her head. “Time sure does go fast, huh?”

“You have no idea,” muttered Andy, quietly enough to be ignored.

“Yeah,” said Nile, smiling at Nicky. “I’d love to.”

Nicky smiled back, and Joe felt a wave of warmth wash through him to see how happy he was to have someone to share his faith with.

Maybe the next one will be Muslim, he thought to himself, and then wondered how long they’d be waiting for them. Hundreds of years at the very least.

Nile and Nicky set off early the next morning for the church, leaving Andy to glare down her physiotherapist over Zoom and Joe to find an excuse to keep out of her way. He ended up going out to the market and came home with a CD of steel drum ‘90s songs despite his better judgement. He could already see Nile’s excited smile when he gave it to her.

“Are we having cake today?” asked Andy at lunch, after Nicky and Nile had come back from church.

“Oh, is that the Epiphany tradition?” asked Nile. “Cake?”

“No, I just want cake,” said Andy. “It’s been a long fucking week.”

“We don’t really have an Epiphany tradition,” said Nicky, looking at Joe, who shrugged back. Epiphany wasn’t really one of the religious festivals Nicky mentioned much. “I’m happy to make it cake, though.”

“Awesome,” said Andy, with satisfaction. “Something with honey and nuts.”

“We’ll see what we can do,” said Joe, already thinking about where the nearest bakeries were. One of them was bound to have something that would fit that description, right?

“Maybe the tradition is church and cake?” asked Nile, and Nicky grinned at her.

“Yes, perfect.”

Nicky and Joe went out to find cake together, walking close enough for their shoulders to bump together, as they always did when they weren’t too sure about holding hands in public.

“Do you think we have too many traditions?” asked Joe, thinking about all the little things they’d done over the last couple of weeks.

“No,” said Nicky immediately. “I think we have the perfect amount, and I love them all,” he gave Joe a warm smile, nudging the back of his hand with his fingers. “Because they’re ours. Every one has a story behind it, a memory of a moment when I knew how lucky I was to have you, and reminds me all over again that you are the best thing that could have happened to me.”

“Nicky,” said Joe softly, overwhelmed, then cleared his throat and managed a rueful smile. “Even the memory of me nearly losing a leg to that damn goose?”

Nicky laughed. “You mean, when you came to help me with a chore you clearly wanted nothing to do with, just because I asked? Oh yes, even that one.”

Joe bumped their shoulders together. “When you put it like that,” he said, then wrinkled his nose. “No, sorry, even like that it is not a good memory for me. That goose was vicious, Nicky. It had a taste for human blood.”

Nicky laughed at him again and Joe thought about that first Christmas, nearly a thousand years ago, when he had thought coaxing a tiny smile out of him was an achievement. How on earth had he been so lucky to spend so many years beside this man?

“Oh look, that shop sells movies,” said Nicky, gesturing across the road. “Do you think they will have The Lion In Winter? We haven’t seen that in a few years.”

“Andy would enjoy telling Nile everything that’s wrong with it,” agreed Joe, and changed course to head into the shop with Nicky.

As long as Nicky was beside him, he’d happily go anywhere.

[flawedamythyst]

On the Eight Day Of Christmas...

1792

“Good morning, Josef, Nicky,” said Isaac, beaming at Josef with more joy than was really warranted. "Happy New Year! How can I help you today?"

"Happy New Year, Isaac. We're just looking for some milk," said Josef. 

“Of course, of course!” said Isaac. “Please, my daughters are just milking the goats, come through to the barn and you can have some that’s fresh.”

Josef exchange a look with Nicky, who was suppressing one of his quiet smiles, but they both followed Isaac to the barn.

They’d been back in Malta for most of a year as they got the building work for their secure new basement organised. Isaac hadn’t been their neighbour the last time they’d been there, and might not even have been born the last time they were here for longer than a few weeks, but he had been friendly and welcoming once they’d arrived.

It hadn’t taken more than a couple of meetings to realise that that was at least partially so that Isaac could put them in the same place as his many daughters as often as possible. There was no polite way to tell him that Josef and Nicky were already married to each other, and had no interest in his daughters, so they just went through this charade every time they came over for milk.

Happily, that day Isaac’s daughters were too busy milking his herd of goats to really be interested in flirting with the neighbours, so they were able to get a jar of milk and escape back to their home without too much awkwardness.

“Those poor girls,” said Nicky as they strode back through the fields to their house. “Do you think they suffer that every time a single man comes by?”

“Perhaps,” said Josef, looking at Nicky’s face all lit up by the Maltese winter sun, and the way the blue of his eyes reflected the sky above. “Or perhaps it is just when astonishingly handsome ones like you come by.”

Nicky laughed. “Ah, I think you’re confused, clearly you are the most desirable son-in-law, and I am just the close friend Isaac feels he should accommodate as well.” He looked at Josef, eyes flicking over his face and body in away that never failed to make heat flush across Josef’s skin. “You are the most attractive man on the island, after all.”

“Nicolo,” said Josef, with a groan, speeding his steps. “Don’t look at me like that when we’re in public. You know what it does to me.”

Nicky just smiled at him. “The builders aren’t coming today,” he reminded Josef. “They’re taking the day off for the New Year. Our house will be completely empty except for the two of us.”

Josef felt his eyes light up. “Ah, how should we begin the New Year then, do you think?”

“The way we mean to continue it,” said Nicky, and his steps were speeding up now as well. “By fucking on every flat surface we can find.”

Josef let out a burst of laughter and broke into a jog. “Come on then! The sooner the better!”

Nicky chased him back to the house, and Josef barely had the presence of mind to set the jar of milk down before he had been swept up in Nicky’s arms and born away to bed.

Nicky was right; this was by far the best way to welcome the New Year.

[flawedamythyst]

On the Sixth Day of Christmas

1648

The wind had died down overnight but the rain was still coming down, keeping the sky dark even with the sun rising above the horizon. As Josef walked past the barn, he could hear the geese inside softly honking at each other as they started to wake up.

Andrea was standing on the cliff, staring out at the rough sea below. She didn’t say anything as Josef came to a stop beside her and for a few minutes they both looked out at the waves they’d been staring at for months now, from the decks of ships, from docks and beaches, from anywhere that might give them the faintest clue where to look for Quynh.

And yet they still had nothing and, after the storm yesterday, they didn’t have a ship any more either.

“Our host says he knows a man two villages over who is selling his boat,” offered Josef, when it became clear Andrea wasn’t going to speak.

She nodded in acknowledgement. “We’ll need money,” she said, in the flat, dead tone she’d been using ever since Josef and Nicky rescued her from that dungeon.

“We have plenty of gold and silver,” said Josef.

That finally made Andrea turn to look at him. “You don’t need to sell your jewellery,” she said, glancing at the rings clustered on Josef’s fingers. “We can go and find one of my stashes.”

Josef shook his head. “The nearest is days away,” he said. “The winter weather has already delayed us enough.” He managed a weak shadow of a smile. “Besides, you know Nicky will just buy me more.”

Ever since that first pirated ring, Nicky had taken to buying Josef rings on a regular basis, bringing them to him with an excited smile, a kiss, and a whispered repeat of one of the many vows they’d made to each other over the years.

She didn’t smile back but something in her eyes softened as she nodded, before she looked back out to sea and they hardened again.

“Andrea, we’ll find her,” said Josef, because he wasn’t willing to admit to any other possibility.

“Don’t patronise me,” she snapped, and then turned and strode away without another word. Josef just watched her go, trying not to sigh.

“How is she?” asked Nicky, and Josef turned to see him walking over with an empty basket on his arm.

Josef shrugged. “The same.” Nicky’s jaw clenched, and the look of misery on his face was almost more than Josef could bear, except that it reflected back what he felt in his heart. “What’s the basket for?” he asked, trying to distract them both.

“I told our host I’d gather the geese’s eggs this morning, as he has been so generous as to put us up overnight.”

They’d arrived at the farmer’s door yesterday soaking wet in the middle of a storm, and he had welcomed them in without question. It was good to be reminded that not everyone was like the cruel bastards who had tortured Andrea and stolen Quynh away from them all.

“I thought you might like to help me,” added Nicky.

Josef let his eyebrows raise. “You thought I might like to be attacked by geese first thing in the morning?”

“You don’t know they’ll attack you,” said Nicky, and Josef just gave him a pointed look.

“They’re geese, Nicky. Attacking people is what they do.”

Nicky had to concede that one. “I thought it might remind you of our first kiss.”

Josef let out a half-laugh. “You sly fox,” he said, “using romance against me.” He glanced at the barn, thought about how much it hurt to be jabbed by a goose beak, and then sighed. “I just wish it wasn’t going to work.”

“I’m sure they’ll be friendly,” said Nicky as they both started towards the barn.

“I’m sure they won’t,” said Josef. “I’ve never met a friendly goose.”

Nicky shrugged. “Well, our host said he’d be slaughtering one later, for their New Year celebration tomorrow, so if any of them are particular rude to you just let me know and I’ll tell him to kill that one.”

“New Year?” repeated Josef, and cast his mind back to try and remember the date. Days at sea doing nothing but search for a metal coffin had driven all sense of time passing from his head. “Is it January already?”

“It will be the day after tomorrow,” said Nicky.

A new year, and they were still no closer to finding Quynh.

Another thought occurred to Josef. “Oh, we missed Christmas, habibi, I’m so sorry. Perhaps we can have a belated one before we set out again.”

Nicky shook his head. “It’s fine, I knew it had come but it didn’t feel like something worth celebrating this year.”

There was a heavy silence. Josef thought about last year, when they had been alone together in Malta and Josef had fed Nicky pear slices while they were naked in bed, or even the year before, when all four of them had been together and Quynh had presented Nicky with a new bow she’d made for him herself, and then promptly destroyed him in a competition using her old bow.

“Next year,” said Nicky as they reached the barn. “Next year, we will have her back, and we will all celebrate together again. Somewhere miles and miles from the nearest ocean.”

“In sha'Allah,” said Josef with feeling, then took a deep breath as Nicky opened the door to the barn and the sound of honking rose in the air. “The things I do for love,” he muttered, and then followed Nicky inside, already braced for attack.