Chapter Text
Wessex
1054
Fomenting peace was easier said than done.
Aziraphale was, truth be told, growing quite tired of this tedious earl and his tedious feud with the even more tedious king of England. It seemed rather a lost cause, trying to influence the earl to make peace with his rival king. Concealed not far beneath Aziraphale’s ardour to carry out his Heavenly mission was a grim certainty that war was coming soon to the Angles whether the Angels had anything to say about it or not.
Also, it was a bit damp.
These uncomfortable thoughts brought with them no small amount of déjà vu. Of course, he was wearing noble raiment now instead of armour, and sleeping in a castle, or at least pretending to sleep. Even so, it was damp, and he was working very hard. Be easier if we both stayed home.
Aziraphale shivered involuntarily and drew his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, abandoning for the moment the scroll he had been poring over. His chair was situated near the bedchamber’s narrow window, allowing the moist, chilly air to permeate his clothing. This weather was terribly inappropriate for July, really.
July, the month of Julius. Aziraphale thought of Caesar: another feuding king, another lost cause. He thought of Rome, the mighty empire it had become in the decades and centuries after Caesar’s reign, only to be sacked by enemy tribes and sink back into obscurity once again. He thought of wine and oysters. No. No, he didn’t think of oysters.
It was as he struggled in vain to push this memory out of his mind that… oh, speak of the devil. The door, creaking open. Those eyes, bright even in the flickering lamplight as a hand removed a pair of dark glasses. That low, inviting voice. “Hello, angel.”
“Crowley.” Here in this dim room, with only a sliver of a window allowing access from the world outside the castle, he allowed himself the ghost of a smile. “Fancy seeing you here. It’s been a while.”
“Mmmm, yes, it has been.”
“Been a few decades, hasn’t it?” This was a silly question. Haven’t seen you since, ah… flood? Aziraphale was perfectly well aware that it had been thirty-eight years. Crowley had last been in England for a coronation, a few tedious kings ago. “You were here when the humans crowned that distasteful Viking fellow.”
A mockery of a pout. “What, you don’t like Vikings?”
“Certainly not. For one thing, they have the most dreadful cuisine. Pickled herring.” Aziraphale grimaced. “And such brutish ways. That king was surely one of yours. He seemed the type to have been helped to power by Hellish influence.”
“No!” Crowley affected an air of indignation, but the small smile on his face was unmistakable. They were both becoming quite practiced at this dance. “That was all the humans. I don’t like the Vikings any more than you do. I just hung around them to claim the credit. Got plenty of commendations off them over the years. ‘Sowing discord’ and ‘destabilizing societies’ and suchlike.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Aziraphale, a wry smile on his own face. “You told your head office you had tempted them to steal the Gospel of Columkille.”
“Oi. Don’t forget who tipped you off about that one so you could go and get it back.”
“Yes.” Something like fondness was creeping into Aziraphale’s expression now. “That was very kind of you.”
“Not kind.” Crowley turned his head to the side. “Just, ah. Encouraging greed among the monks. You know. It was awfully fancy for a holy book. That’s decadence, that is.” There might have been a bit of color to his cheeks, if the room hadn’t been so dimly lit.
“Quite so.” Aziraphale inclined his head indulgently. “Very sinful indeed.”
Crowley turned back to face him. “Anyway,” he continued, “hanging round the Vikings was worth it. Bought me a bit of time off, after that business with the king.”
“Time off?” A sniff. “I wasn’t aware Hell was in the business of doling out holidays.”
Mmmm, you sound jealous, angel.
“We-e-e-ellllllllll. Not proper time off really. More just… reduced scrutiny. A break from prying eyes. You know how it is. Bit of latitude to focus on, ah… personal projects.”
“Oh? And what sort of personal projects would those be?” This had the potential to be treacherous territory. Aziraphale honestly had very little idea what Crowley might get up to in his leisure time if unconstrained by the demands of work. The two of them had always had quite a bit more free will than ethereal and occult beings really ought to possess – and he was well aware of Heaven’s opinions on his own personal projects.
Crowley smirked softly in the dark. “Ever travelled the Silk Road?” He cocked his head to indicate the door. “Come along, angel. I got something to show you.”
His eyes twinkled like stars in the lamplight.