And a month after I get this ask I finally found the time to finish writing this. More Hartwin magic!au

“How’d you get recruited to Kingsman?” Eggsy asks, taking the plate Harry is holding out to him, careful not to let any of the water drip onto the floor.

“Edward, who was Percival at the time, showed up at the tea shop I frequented on my days off and told me my father was a literal wizard,” Harry responds easily, holding the glass he’s washing up to the light to make sure its clean. “And if I wanted to fight the darkness in the world.”

Eggsy stops drying the plate to look at Harry in disbelief. He gets momentarily sidetracked by how terribly domestic Harry looks, with his shirtsleeves carefully rolled up and frowning at a wine glass like it holds the secrets of the universe. “He just strolled in and led with ‘so your father’s a wizard, want to join a secret society’? How does one even respond to that?”

“Edward didn’t believe in beating around the bush,” Harry says, deeming the glass as clean and placing it upside down next to the sink. “And I laughed at him, asked him what he meant by that.”

“Wait- you didn’t know your father was a wizard?” Eggsy asks, frowning down at a smudge on the plate he’s drying as he tries to rub it off. “I thought you’d been using magic since you were a kid.”

“Oh no, I’d been doing bits of magic for over a decade at that point. But my father was no wizard; if he had been, I certainly would have known. He was profoundly lazy, and if he could have summoned a decanter from across the room instead of having to ring for a servant to bring it to him he would have. He was a painfully average man, with money instead of any kind of remarkable talent,” he sinks his hands back into the dishwater. “Which is exactly what I told Edward, much to his confusion.”  

“Because magic usually runs in families,” Eggsy adds, and Harry hums his assent.

“It certainly stumped him for a moment, and after a few moments I put him out of his misery and told him that while my father certainly wasn’t a wizard, my mother was.”

Eggsy stops what he’s doing, baffled. “Your mum was a wizard?”

“And still is,” Harry adds, like they haven’t known each other for two years without Harry mentioning that he has family. “We see each other every Christmas.”

Eggsy turns around to lean against the counter, ignoring the wine glasses that are waiting to be dried next to him and throwing the dish towel over his shoulder.

“Your mum’s a wizard, and Kingsman couldn’t figure that out?”

Harry casts a glance at the wine glasses, but doesn’t mention them. “They had records of most magical bloodlines, and while it’s true that my father came from a fairly strong one, he proved his mediocrity by not inheriting any of it. Even if he had had any, I think he was ever have found the motivation to use it,” Harry’s tone lightens minutely as he continues. “My mother wasn’t particularly powerful, and was entirely self taught, much like you.”

Eggsy watches Harry for a moment longer before he pulls the towel off his shoulder and turns back to the drying glasses.

“Oh?” Eggsy prompts. “What does she do?”

“Grows orchids, for the most part,” he says, pulling the plug on the drain and wiping his hands on a towel. “With a few greenhouses full of magical plant species that she sells to Kingsman whenever they have need of them.”

Thinking of Harry’s talent for earth magic, Eggsy nods. But when he looks around Harry’s house, he realises that there isn’t a single plant in the place.

“Did you not get her green thumb then?” he asks, making a sweeping gesture at the kitchen.

“Not quite. Mother gave me an orchid a few years after I joined Kingsman, but I had to give it back after it tried to eat Mr. Pickle,” Harry says casually, leaning against the counter.

“…are orchids usually carnivorous?”

“Mother said I hadn’t been watering it enough and it was a plea for attention.”

“It’s an orchid,” Eggsy says, “How much attention does it need?”

Harry laughs. “That’s exactly what I told her, and that was the last time she tried to gift me anything living. She just gives me one every few years to pass onto Merlin, who seems to have no problem keeping them alive and happy.”

“I’m surprised he makes it out of Avalon enough to water them,” Eggsy grumbles as he dries the final glass, carefully placing it back onto the shelf.

“Knowing your plants will start eating your books if you don’t check on them regularly is surprisingly good motivation.”

“Speaking of motivation,” Eggsy says, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck as Harry’s hands settle automatically on his hips. “You promised you’d watch Great British Bakeoff with me after we tidied up. Kitchen looks awful tidy to me.”

“Hmm, I suppose it does,” Harry agrees, his bored tone in direct contrast with the fond smile he’s giving Eggsy.

“Great! I heard its bread week,” Eggsy enthuses, giving Harry a quick kiss before dragging him towards the living room.

Aw thank you~ I’m a bit rusty, but this was still fun to write. Here’s a brief glimpse into my very much unestablished Hartwin magic!au.

-

The door to the locker room has barely shut behind him when Eggsy hears a large crack from the training room, followed by a wobbly, shuddering wave that often accompanies unstable magic. For a moment, Eggsy considers ignoring it, but when the cursing starts his curiosity gets the better of him and he heads down the hall.

“Everybody out,” Harry commands, “And for gods sake Michael, stop kicking them, you’re making it worse.”

The door opens wider as the five remaining trainees do their best not to shove each other on their hectic exit. Sebastian is last, wringing his hands and still mumbling apologies when he backs into Eggsy.

“Agent Galahad- I’m so sorry-“ he starts again, but is interrupted by a thunk and a sharp shriek.

“Easy there, Sebastian. What’s happening in there?” Eggsy asks, trying to see what’s happening in the room.

“We were practicing summoning spells,” Sebastian mumbles. “But I seem to have made a mistake.”

Eggsy raises an eyebrow at him, and gestures for Sebastion to follow the others so he can peer through the doorway. Out of everything he was expecting, it wasn’t Harry, ankle deep in small, bearded creatures with pointy ears. One of them is making a break toward the door, and Eggsy throws up a ward with a quick flick of his wrist. The bearded creature bounces backwards off of it, and takes a moment to level a glare at Eggsy and bare its tiny, pointed teeth at him, ears pinned back to its head. They’re profoundly ugly, and he has to repress the urge to scowl back at it.

“How many elves were you trying to fit in this room?” Eggsy asks, and Harry takes a moment to level a less than amused look at him.

“Eggsy, don’t be ridiculous. Elves aren’t real,” he chastises, shaking his leg to dislodge one that had been trying to sink its teeth into his calf. “These are gnomes.”

“Then how many gnomes were you trying to fit into this room? It looks like you’re starting to reach capacity.”

There’s another small pop and another two more startled gnomes appear a few feet off the ground and fall into the pile.

“You don’t say,” Harry snarks, clearing a path through the small angry creatures with a wave of his hand, sending the ones in the way tumbling backwards into their brethren.

There’s still one clinging to Harry’s shoe, tiny hands wrapped around the laces as it attempts to chew through them. He gives it a brief zap, forcing it to let go and allowing Harry to step through the nearly invisible ward.

“Nasty little ankle biters,” Harry mutters as he straightens his sleeves, scowling at them as a wave of them collide with Eggsy’s barrier.

“So, we gonna dress em up in little fishing outfits and hats, sell em at the farmers market, or are we just going to lob a grenade in there and shut the door?” Eggsy asks as a few more appear out of thin air.

“No, we’re going to wait for them to disappear,” Harry says. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

Eggsy peers around Harry’s shoulder, fascinated. “Where’d they come from?”

“Sebastian was meant to summon a single gnome, but he got the intonation wrong and summoned ‘the gnomes’ instead.”

Eggsy snickers, and Harry raises an eyebrow at him. “Do I need to remind you of some of your first forays into magic?”

“Oi, I blew up a few tablets and set a bit of furniture on fire. At least I never opened up a box of infinite gnomes,” he points to where the gnomes are nearly a foot deep, roiling like the sea as they try to climb over each other. “’sides, Merlin’s told me about your first forays into magic.”

“Has he now,” Harry says blandly.

“I know all about the butterfly incident,” Eggsy grins, and he sees Harry struggle to keep the neutral look on his face. “And that one time in Malaysia.”

Harry’s eye twitches, but before he can storm off Eggsy laughs and steps forward under the guise of straightening Harry’s tie.

“You saw most of my magical mishaps while I was training, it’s only fair Merlin fills me in on a few of yours,” Eggsy teases, rocking forwards onto his toes so he can reach up to give Harry a quick kiss. He’s stopped scowling when Eggsy leans back, but before he has a chance to comment on it Eggsy realises that the gnomes are now at eye level.

“…how long did you say it’d be before the gnomes started vanishing again?” Eggsy asks.

“Oh, about another fifteen minutes or so.”

“And if the room is now three quarters of the way full with gnomes?”

At this Harry turns around, and the pair of them stare at the little gnome faces shoved up against the ward, angrier than ever.

“What was that you were saying earlier about the hand grenade?”

I was digging through my drafts and found this. Finished it up instead of working on what I’m currently writing. Here is your response, around eight months late. Anyways have some angst.

Gen, background Ari/Cullen. Two months before Trespasser.

Ari is at a tavern in the second closest town to Skyhold, sitting at the end of the bar and staring into the depths of her glass. The liquor is terrible, but it’s strong, and she knocks back the rest of it in one go. She doesn’t look up when the bar stool next to hers is moved, but her ears twitch slightly when it creaks under her companions weight.

“Take it easy boss,” Iron Bull says, leaning against the arm he has on the bar in a move carefully calculated to look casual, but effectively cuts them off from the rest of the bar. “You’ve got broken ribs.”

Ari scowls at him and flags down the bartender again, gesturing at her empty glass. She doesn’t talk until she has another drink in her hand and Bull has a tankard in front of him.

“I’m fine. They’re probably just cracked at this point,” she says, making sure to keep her tone clipped and not to slur. She’s been sitting at the bar for a handful of hours now. Ari doesn’t ask how he found her; she hadn’t exactly tried to disguise herself.

“We both know that’s shit,” Bull says, tone still casual as he takes a drink.

“And we both know that my ribs are the least of my problems,” Ari snaps, catching the way his eye flickers to her gloved hand. She takes another swig of her drink and then stares him now.

“I know you saw what happened in the Frostback Basin a few weeks ago,” she tells him, voice blunt. “And that you’re not going to tell anyone about it.”

“Oh, what? The knife that went into your hand to the hilt but never appeared on the other side?” Bull says sarcastically. “That’s nothing to write home about. Everyone can catch a knife with their palm and have it vanish until it’s pulled out.”

“Bull,” Ari warns, gray eyes glinting behind the loose braids that are shadowing her face, but he continues, slamming his drink down onto the counter.

“Don’t you think that that isn’t even worth looking into?”

“It’s complicated,” she snaps, downing the rest of her drink and dropping the glass down onto the bar.

“Have you told the Commander? Your brother? Anyone?” Bull presses, and she sneers.

“I said it’s complicated,” she reiterates, voice low and dangerous. He sighs loudly.

“So you’re hiding it from all of them. Don’t you think they’d want to know?”

“What good would it do them?” Ari hisses, turning so she can fully face him. “There’s nothing anyone can do about it. And besides-“ she cuts herself off, pushing her hair out of her face and shaking her head. “Can’t I at least keep them oblivious and happy for a while longer?”

Bull stares down at her, one eyebrow raised, unaffected by her anger. “You’re sitting in a tavern two towns over, several drinks in, and it’s still light out. How, exactly, is this keeping your people happy?”

Ari stares back down at the empty glass in her trembling hands, and she sets it down on the countertop even though she knows Bull had seen.

“They know something’s wrong. This isn’t exactly normal behaviour for you, and you’ve been avoiding everyone since you vanished into Cullen’s office and stormed out shortly afterwards.”

“I’ll tell them,” Ari says, but Bull doesn’t look convinced. “I will. Just-not now. The Exalted Council is happening in two months. That’s what we need to focus on now. Everyone has enough to worry about.”

“…and what state are you going to be in, in two months?” Bull asks, and they both look down at her hands, shaking ever so slightly until she lays them flat against the bar.

“I don’t know,” she answers honestly. “I really don’t.”

“It’s not going to be good, is it?”

Ari appreciates his bluntness in the moment, but still pauses before she answers. “No, it’s not going to be good.”

“In that case, I think we’re going to need another drink,” Bull says after a moment of silence, flagging down the bartender. “Especially if you think you can hide how bad it’s gotten from your twin brother, who knows you too well not to notice, and Cullen, who regularly sees you naked, for the next two months.”

Ari laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “One thing at a time.”

Bull hums. “Now, you going to tell me what sent you here, or do I get to guess?”

“Not exactly a topic change,” she grumbles, and Bull raises an eyebrow.

“So you got into a fight with Cullen.”

“He read the reports. Asked me if I was alright or if I was just being reckless.”

“You did tackle someone off of a roof when you could have just as easily knocked them over,” Bull points out. “Cullen knows you well enough to know that’s not normal behaviour. He’s worried.”

“I know,” she sighs. “It would just be easier if he didn’t.”

“That’s not fair to either of you.”

“Nothing about this situation is fair!” Ari hisses, livid. “If it were fair, this blighted mark on my arm wouldn’t be trying to kill me, or at the very least I wouldn’t be expected what may well be the last month of my life playing politics with a bunch of Orlesians!”

“So you’re just going to spend it not asking for help and ignoring him instead?”

“Yes,” she responds, suddenly feeling drunk and petulant. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to stay right here and drink.”

Bull stares at her for a moment, at the determined scowl on her face, at the nerves she’s doing a poor job of hiding. “Guess I’ll be staying here then.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes longer, and Ari stares down at the bar.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, sees Bull nod out of the corner of her eye.

“Of course, Boss.”

It’s a small comfort, but it’s better than nothing.