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Hanged Man, your prophecy’s groundless –
I have no son, dead or alive.
It’s true that I once had a daughter,
but she fell to barbarian knives.
I have all those I trust around me,
this world’s hard and I must be too;
there’s none of that trust left for you.
“The fuck was that about?” Jonny asked, walking up to Brian.
The sheriff’s visit had disturbed Jonny’s bush nap (he had not blacked out after last night’s saloon party, no matter what that idiot Brian said), so now the first mate was going to take it out on the person closest at hand. And the Hanged Man couldn’t really escape Jonny’s pouty whining wrath. So, perfect company victim, really.
Brian tried for a shrug, “I have no clue. Arthur used to trust every word I said.”
“The locals actually believe your prophecies?”
“Yes, Jonny,” Brian sighed. “And Arthur, specifically. Prophecies, info, all of it. I’m the reason he’s got that overpowered railgun of his. Which is why even I think that what just happened was just… so weird.”
“And you’re sure the kid’s a guy?” Jonny asked. “Cause I remember one specific time that things took a hilarious turn when your dream was on-point but your interpretation was off.”
“I’m sure, ” Brian rolled his eyes. “Mordred’s gotten real close to the Pendragon gang so I’ve seen him in other people’s futures, too, and he’s certainly a man.”
Jonny took a moment to think.
“So” he started, “you say Arthur’s son is here. And Arthur says he only ever had a daughter and that she died.”
“That’s the gist of it, yeah,” Brian nodded awkwardly in his upside-down position.
“Is the kid… trans?”
Brian pursed his lips, “Huh. I don’t… know? It would certainly make sense with the information we’re dealing with right now, though.”
“So it’s entirely possible that Arthur’s kid is just dead to him, and that Arthur’s transphobic ass can’t accept what’s right in front of him?” Jonny asked, a familiar flash of anger passing through his chest.
Brian blinked, went to say something, paused.
“I was going to defend Arthur by saying that he himself isn’t straight so it wouldn’t make sense for him to be transphobic, but…”
“But it’s somehow possible to both be queer and transphobic, yeah,” Jonny nodded. “As weird as it seems.”
The two of them stayed quiet for a moment, Jonny’s thoughts storming through his mind.
His fingers were twitching for his gun. Billy Vangelis’ face flashed in front of his eyes, and he wished he could kill the man again. Maybe he should convince the crew to jump to a parallel universe where Billy Vangelis’ dead body was still warm, so he could go shoot the fucker again.
“Jonny?” Brian called out.
“Hm?”
“There’s a few Saxons and a smaller group of Briton hunters not too far away, if you want to burn off some energy.”
Britons were good for target practice, and the ghouls would certainly provide quite a chase. Fuck, his muscles were aching to go on a hunt.
Jonny took off his cowboy hat and walked around the Hanged Man, hanging the hat over one of Brian’s bound hands.
“Hold on to this for me, yeah?”
“Fuck you.”
Toothpicks were a fucking invention. The little bits of flesh that had been stuck between his teeth the whole way back came out without a problem. It was marvelous.
He kept the piece of wood between his lips instead of taking out a cigarette, then. It was a bit more chewable, and he was stressing himself out with the scene he’d found himself in.
The scene being: standing directly in front of Arthur Pendragon’s table in the saloon, with the rest of the Pendragon Gang sitting all around, close by.
“Can I help you?” the sheriff asked, looking thrown-off by Jonny’s standoffish stance.
“You went to the Hanged Man yesterday,” Jonny stated.
“I did,” Arthur confirmed. “What of it?”
“The Hanged Man doesn’t lie,” Jonny said.
Brian was certainly on MJE, if he was refusing to come down from his spot on his own.
“I… know,” Arthur nodded, growing suspicious.
“Doesn’t seem like you do,” Jonny shrugged. “Or maybe you just don’t fucking care about your kid still being alive.”
At that, Lancelod sat up straight, ready to get up if needed, Guinevere’s hand hanging close to her gun holster. Arthur lifted one palm slightly – still staring directly at Jonny – and the man’s lovers stood down.
“You think I don’t care about my daughter?” Arthur asked as he stood up, voice stone cold. “For years she was my everything. I would have given my life for her, but she was taken from me, and I–”
“Art,” Lancelot said gently, putting one hand over Arthur’s shaking fist.
Jonny just scoffed.
“Some people are fucking trans, ” he all but growled, and one of the younger group members winced. “Get fucking over it, dipshit.”
He turned to leave, but was nearly tackled to the ground by the sheriff before he could even realise what was going on. Arthur pulled him closer by the lapels of his waistcoat.
“You dare insinuate I would stop loving my child over such a thing?”
And suddenly, Jonny’s throat closed up without his permission.
“If my child was trans,” Arthur went on, “they would still be my child. I don’t know what you think of me, but don’t think for a moment that I would draw lines when it comes to the love I have for my family.”
Jonny stared at the man, and there was not an ounce of performativity. Every single thing this man had said had been completely true.
The lump in Jonny’s throat and the tightness he suddenly felt in his chest didn’t allow him for any kind of answer.
“My child is dead,” Arthur said, quiet, yet firm. He pushed against Jonny’s chest, “Now get out of my sight.”
Jonny stumbled with the momentum, but he just about managed to stop himself from falling. His gaze stayed on Arthur only briefly, before he forced himself to look away. Turning around, he walked out of the establishment, eyes firmly glued to the exit and on exactly none of the other patrons.
Stepping outside, he beelined for the little thrashed once-grand square where the Hanged Man still hung. Brian could probably…
Probably what?
He was fucking fine. His mechanism was probably acting up again, which would explain the chest pain, and it was really hot outside, so sweat was probably gathering on his brow and was causing his eyes to sting, and there was a lot of rusty dust in the air, so it would make sense for his throat to hurt, and he was not going to cry, goddamnit!
What would he even be crying over in this scenario? This was just some guy, who just confirmed that he wasn’t transphobic. That was it.
… Okay, the sheriff confirmed at least that he wouldn’t be transphobic to his kid, specifically. So.
(And that he would love the kid. Unconditionally.)
No! Fuck off, cheesy-ass thoughts! That did not change the situation!
Jonny stomped down the main alley. He was just not going to think for a moment now. And the decision to do that was in no way connected to his last train of thought.
Just… keep breathing and keep walking.
Brian wasn’t that far away now.
“You dare insinuate I would stop loving my child over such a thing?”
Jonny’s sight started blurring, and he had to blink forcefully – once, twice, three times – before the picture got clear enough for him to see where he was placing his feet.
He would not cry. He refused to.
“If my child was trans, they would still be my child. ”
But damn it, if it wasn’t getting harder to breathe.
Arthur Pendragon loved his kid so fucking much, and Jonny – the highest ranking member of a crew of fucking space pirates – was going to cry over it.
“Don’t think for a moment that I would draw lines when it comes to the love I have for my family.”
Jonny looked up towards the sky, willing the tears not to fall, but it was to no avail. His breath got shaky, and his chest hurt, and this time he knew it wasn’t because of his mechanism. His face felt hot, and he knew it wasn’t from the scorching heat of the Avalon. His throat was tight, and he knew it wasn’t the dust. He felt his nose getting runny, and–
He was standing in the middle of the main fucking street. He was so fucking lucky that it was empty, because otherwise he would’ve had to shoot any witnesses, consequences be damned.
Quickly spotting a secluded alley, he hid before he could embarrass himself even further, Brian’s little square be damned. It was too far away. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore.
He found a nice little comfy corner between a wall and the dust bin next to it, and tucked himself as far into the corner as was physically possible. He hugged his knees close to his chest. His head slumped forward.
Some kids were just lucky when it came to who they got as their parents. Some kids were also just lucky to be born in a body that properly reflected their gender identity. So what if Jonny wasn’t in either of those groups? There was nothing he could do about it now, seeing as he was grown-up, Billy Vangelis was dead, and Jonny passed as a guy all the time.
The way Arthur had talked about his maybe-dead likely-trans kid, though…
Jonny hugged his knees closer and clenched his mouth shut. He didn’t want to be making a lot of noise, as he still wasn’t that far away from the main street.
So he simply sat there, hiding from the world.
(As usual.)
He kind of wanted something to drink, so at least the lump in his throat would get the memo and fuck right off, but he didn’t dare go back to the saloon. Not only did he straight-up refuse to end up a sorrow-driven alcoholic like Billy fucking Vangelis, no, he also didn’t want to be running into Arthur Pendragon any time soon.
Arthur Pendragon, who would probably try to banish Jonny from Camelot for saying the man didn’t love his kid with his whole heart and then some. Arthur Pendragon, who’d almost made Jonny bawl his fucking brains out just by uttering one single fucking sentence.
Arthur Pendragon, who… was standing at the foot of the alley Jonny had been hiding in.
Fuck.
Jonny quickly wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. He got up from the ground, dusted off his clothes.
“Was just leaving,” he muttered, and started towards the sheriff.
“No need,” the man responded calmly, but didn’t try to stop Jonny from exiting the alley.
Right before Jonny walked out into the main alley, though, he realised that his face was likely still puffy as fuck, and that anyone in the street would fucking know that he’d been fucking crying. Fucking idiot. Why couldn’t he have just held on with the waterworks until getting to Brian’s half-secluded little corner?
… Getting embarrassed by people knowing he’d cried was still preferable to sticking around and having to talk to Arthur, though.
Just as he was about to resume walking, the sheriff spoke.
“I just wanted to apologise for earlier,” the man said. “I feel I may have been kinda harsh. You were only trying to mean well.”
And there he went again, making Jonny want to cry. Apologising for some a-bit-rougher-than-normal treatment and a few angry words to someone who was more or less a stranger? Who fucking does that?
No fucking wonder an MJE-set Brian got along so well with the guy.
“It’s fine,” Jonny tried to wave him off, just hoping the man would leave it alone.
The first mate finally started down the main alley, but he only managed a few paces, before the sheriff sounded again.
“... You alright, son?”
And this time, Jonny couldn’t hold back.
“Fuck you!” he yelled, circling right back. “You don’t get to fucking ask that when– when– Fuck! ”
He clutched at his hair, feeling a fresh wave of tears trying to burst through.
“Just– fuck you!”
And through the first few of Jonny’s heaving breaths, Arthur stood there, his face not quite understanding but definitely not confrontational. Jonny glared at him.
How dare he.
Jonny’s teeth were bared. His ears were slanted backwards. His breathing was rushing in and out in fierce huffs. His fists were knuckle-white and trembling, his nails digging into his palms.
Billy Vangelis would at least have struck him by now. Definitely would have called him names. Possibly would have made him spend the night outside the house. The disrespect alone–
And Arthur fucking Pendragon just fucking stood there. Not moving in for contact. Not taking a deep breath to tell him off.
A few dozen breaths later, Jonny’s breathing slowed, and the chest pain and eye-stinging returned. And then his whole body started trembling.
One tear escaped down his cheek, and then his body went lax.
“Can I come closer now?” Arthur asked.
Jonny didn’t so much nod as he bowed his head in defeat, feeling almost numb at that point, but it seemed to be enough of an answer for the other. Arthur slowly walked over. Stopped right in front of Jonny.
And then, there were gentle arms wrapping around him, pulling him close. The smell of Arthur’s clothes was unfamiliar, but the situation felt safe, and Jonny nuzzled into the crook of Arthur’s neck, Jonny’s hands desperately clutching onto the other’s waistcoat.
And somehow, that opened the floodgates.
“It’s alright,” Arthur murmured as Jonny cried into the man’s shirt.
The pair stayed like that for what felt like hours, Jonny holding on to the sheriff’s clothes for dear life, the tears seemingly neverending. And when Jonny’s breathing calmed from sobs to sniffles, Arthur still stayed there, one hand soothingly rubbing Jonny’s back.
“... Sorry,” Jonny muttered when he finally felt like he could speak again. “That was…”
“Appreciate the apology,” Arthur told him, not making the first move in ending the embrace, “but I’m not sure there’s really a need for it.”
“I got snot on your collar.”
“Eh, I can wash it off.”
Jonny still clung to the man, even as his breathing slowly returned completely to normal. And Arthur seemed to be fine with that. There was no way anyone was this nice without some underlying reason, without an ulterior motive.
Wait.
Oh no.
Oh no no no no no.
Jonny didn’t want the comfort to be yanked away from him, but he needed to clear this up. Arthur was just too good a man to deserve to be misled by the likes of him.
“You… know I’m not the son that the Hanged Man told you about, right?” Jonny asked carefully, lifting his head just enough so he could properly look at Arthur’s face.
The sheriff blinked.
“I… thought that was obvious?” the man finally replied. “Woulda been pretty surprised if my kid grew up to be a different species than either of the parents. Don’t really think that’s how things work.”
“Then why–” Jonny paused, the chest ache returning. “Why would you comfort me like this?”
Arthur gave a small, sad smile, and tugged Jonny closer again, getting the first mate to get himself comfortable again.
“In a world this harsh, who do we have to lean on, if not each other?”
The man paused.
“As a leader, I try to be strong, so my people feel safer,” he said. “But I’ve not always been a leader. And I know what it’s like to keep trying and trying and trying, but to no avail. I know what it’s like to feel helpless, and I know what it’s like to be helped. ”
Jonny frowned, and Arthur must have picked up on the movement.
“Being helped does not show weakness,” the sheriff stated firmly. “I believe we are only weak when we actually need help but decide to fight against it.”
“So then you admit that you need help, too, sometimes?” Jonny spat, trying to back the man into a corner.
He didn’t know why he was doing it. Maybe he was echoing Billy Vangelis’ taunts. Maybe he was just a bad person at his core, trying to goad this good man into admitting something shameful–
“Yes,” Arthur interrupted Jonny’s train of thought. “I try to be aware of when things are getting out of control, and then I ask for help.”
“But–” bursted out of Jonny, and he looked at the other’s face again. “You’re so cool! And manly! And-and everything! ”
Arthur just laughed, then.
“You don’t look much older than my kid woulda been now, son,” he said. “I suppose you’ll understand it when you’re older.”
Jonny pointedly didn’t mention that he was millennia older than the guy. Because what would that say about him, then? That he didn’t understand how people could actually be comfortable with themselves? That he was still a fucking kid who just desperately wanted to be liked?
No, he stayed quiet. He stayed quiet, and he held on to Arthur, still.
… And he wanted his crew.
He wanted his crew, and all their bullshit, and their weird habits, and their stupid little “I love you”s, and–
“Thank you,” Jonny breathed out, because he really didn’t know how else to go about this. He pulled away from the embrace, not meeting Arthur’s gaze, “I think I’m ready to go home now.”
Arthur let him walk away, and Jonny didn’t look back.
He didn’t know what he’d been thinking, deciding to go on vacation to a place that had the same fucking vibe as his homeplanet. He’d stirred a metric shitton of shitty Billy Vangelis memories, he’d cried to a local about it, and that had been just about it. Shitty-ass vacation, zero out of ten, would not recommend.
He sighed.
Staying with his family crew would have been much better.