Chapter Text
“It doesn’t look like much,” Jonah said staring up at the drab-looking building, small and slate grey, crammed between two other small nondescript buildings. It was the same color as the sky above, both similar enough to the color of the snow on the road that Jonah expertly avoided as he left the carriage that they had arrived in.
“Did you think it was going to be made with marble and gold, Jonah?” Mordechai asked with a smirk, his hand going to cover the whistle that had been ever present around his neck for the past three weeks.
“I expected something a little more impressive than this, yes,” Jonah replied, annoyed. Getting to London at this time of year was no small feat, and he longed for his study back in Edinburgh, with its large fireplace and warm blankets.
“Don’t you worry your pretty little head Jonah; it is much more impressive on the inside.” Mordechai said as he walked towards the door, Jonah having to lengthen his gait to keep up with the taller man.
Mordechai wrenched the door to the house open, and Jonah almost sighed as the warm air from within the building washed over him, Mordechai, of course, didn’t react, seemingly unbothered by the cold.
The door led through to a hallway, long but well lit with torches lining the wall every few feet. The walls all looked as if they were one stone, but carved into it were lines, so thin that Jonah couldn’t quite imagine how precise the tools needed to make them must have been. The lines all together made an image of spider web, coating the walls, ceiling and floor, all connected to each other. Jonah felt his eyes longing to follow the threads, to follow them to their sources, to Know-
Ah, but that is one way the Web catches its victims, and Jonah, would not be a fly.
“I believe that is what binds him here,” Mordechai said as Jonah finally tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing stone-carved webs. “I did ask him, but he would only answer one question for the payment I gave, and I was far more interested in the question I came to him with.”
Mordechai’s hand once again came to rest on the whistle around his neck. Was it the glee of finally having tracked it down that made Mordechai so focused on the artifact, Jonah wondered, or was the connection to the patron that Mordechai still refused to admit too?
“From what you were telling me, he barely made you pay anything for what you did ask,” Jonah said as they continued down the hall, quickly coming to a large dark wooden door. “Which is surprising, I’ve never known you to be stingy.”
“I gave him what he asked for, and he seemed satisfied by the trade.” Mordechai shrugged, “Perhaps he has an interest in old children’s tales, or perhaps he simply enjoyed my company.”
The snort that Jonah answered him with, was unbecoming of both of their stations. As was the shove that Mordechai responded in return with. But there was no one to see but the two of them, acting as the children they had once been, so long ago.
Eventually Mordechai drifted to the door and opened it as well, letting bright natural light into the room.
The first thing Jonah noticed about the room was the smell, old paper, dust and ink with the smokey scent of a lit fire. The second thing he noticed was how warm it was, if the hallway was a nice relief from the outside, this was where the heat was coming from. Just stepping into the room felt like being plunged into a freshly warmed bath.
Stepping fully into the room, Jonah had to stop himself from gasping at the high domed ceilings, that was at least two stories higher than the building had been on the outside. The walls were covered in bookcases, each bookcase full to the brim of books and journals, and in a few cases scrolls. And in the center of the circular room, there sat a desk. Large and overflowing and covered in loose paper and books.
Behind the desk sat a man, who was furiously writing something down in a bound book, glancing between it and a scroll he had laid out beside him.
The man was small and slight, even shorter than Jonah himself, and seemed almost tiny compared Mordechai. His long hair was bound back, and was dark, except for the strands of silver that ran through it, that put Jonah in the mind of spiderwebs.
His dress was most strange of all, instead of the proper waistcoats, breeches, stockings and cravats that both Jonah and Mordechai wore, the other man looked he stepped from the past. He wore a plain white Greek tunic with a dark green toga draped around his body that contrasted with his dark skin.
He was beautiful, like a talented artist’s rendition of Ganymede. Or perhaps considering the situation, it would be more apt to compare him to the Oracle of Delphi.
“Oh, Mister Lukas,” The man said, looking up as they drew near him. His hand still moved on the page, steady even as he looked away. “I see you found what you sought. Do you have another Question?”
“No not I,” Mordechai responded, motioning towards Jonah with his head. “My companion does, however.”
When Mordechai had explained to Jonah how the transaction would work, Jonah had thought of many different questions he would like the answers too. Were Smirke’s theories correct? How long have the entities existed beside humanity? Was there a way to put oneself, out of the reach of a certain entity?
But now in front of the man who could answer those questions, Jonah only had one question on his mind.
“I would Ask your name.” Jonah stated, a smirk playing at his lips as he watched the other man stiffen at his words. Mordechai, perhaps noticing Jonah’s tone sighed, leaning against a nearby bookshelf to watch.
“And what information would you give me in payment for such a Question?” The man asked in return, clearly unnerved. He had placed the quill he had been writing with in a nearby inkwell, now clearly fully focused on the conversation before him.
“My own name,” Jonah replied casually, meeting the other man’s eyes. They were beautiful as well, green to match the toga the man wore, but they seemed to have a glow to them. Perhaps a sign of his connection to the Beholding? Whatever reason, they suited him.
The man tilted his head, staring up at him. He seemed wrongfooted as if he was used to a certain script and Jonah had decided to improvise his part. Which to be fair, Jonah was, that was certainly not the question Jonah had planned on asking. The man’s confusion was quite adorable, Jonah decided as he watched the man bite his lip, before nodding.
“I will accept that payment,” The man paused, as if thinking hard, which in itself was interesting.
“I am the Archivist. I am also called the Beholding’s Voice, or the Keeper of Information. Once I was called The Mother’s Pet, by a very foolish young man, who I believe regretted it in the end.” The man paused, seeming hesitant, “I think I was also once called Jon, but I have very little information of that far back.”
“Jon,” Jonah tasted the name, smiling at how the Archivist’s eyes grew wide at it coming from Jonah’s mouth. How long had it been since another voice had used it? Jonah stepped closer to the desk.
Once he stood opposite of the Archivist, he held out a hand to him, palm up. The Archivist stared at it hesitantly before slowly placing his own hand upon it. Jonah brought it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on its back.
“It is so nice to meet you, Jon, my name is Jonah Magnus.” He said as he lowered their hands, not able to hold back a smirk as he noticed the dark blush of the Archivist’s cheeks. He used his thumb to stroke the side of the Archivist’s hand, noticing the man tremble slightly as he did so. Jon pulled his hand away after a moment and Jonah allowed him to do so.
Mordechai stood up from where he had been leaning as he watched them, taking out his pocket watch, and checking the time.
“Jonah, we must leave if we are to make Robert’s dinner party,” Mordechai’s tone was such that it made it clear that he would much rather stand there and watch Jonah flirt than spend even a minute in Smirke’s presence.
Ah, what Jonah did to keep up appearances.
Jonah hummed slightly in answer, before bowing his head towards the Archivist as he stepped back away from the desk, not turning away.
“Till we meet again, Jon.”
“You’re coming back?” Jon asked eyes still wide, swiftly rising to his feet, but staying behind the desk that he had sat at.
Jonah chuckled, as he glanced around the room. A beautiful well-lit library, with a thousand kingdoms’ secrets; it was hard to imagine a more gilded cage. And at its center, the sweet little bird the cage was crafted for. How long had Jon existed here, alone, but for those willing to trade their secrets and stories?
Jonah had always loved beautiful things, and the Mother of Puppets had held this one long enough.
Perhaps it was time this songbird found a new owner.
“Yes, I think I might be.”