GOSP Exchange gift - Though This Be Madness
Happy Gift Day to @therainbowsaltsblog !!
In the context of the @gospexchange event, I have received the following prompts:
Broken Crown by Mumford & Sons
the fruits by Paris Paloma
It's Alright by Mother Mother
And have written a songfic based on Mumford & Sons' Broken Crown!
Title: Though this be madness
(from Hamlet's line "Though this be madness, yet there is method in it")
Tags: Season 3 plot; i swear it's canon i talked to Neil about it; apocalypse that will be; crowley is having a long nap; Supreme Archangel Aziraphale; Prince of Hell Crowley; Muriel is a Sweetheart; Crowley Loves Aziraphale; Aziraphale Loves Crowley; Aziraphale's Bookshop; Crowley's Bentley; Blood; Violence; War; Song fic; mumford and sons: broken crown
Many thanks to DaneeCastle, Olfactory_Ventriloquism and MISinformation, Naty and Contritecactite , who have all been excellent beta-readers on the piece!
Crowley and Aziraphale split up; Aziraphale went to Heaven, and Crowley drove away after that godforsaken kiss.
Muriel takes over the bookshop, and discovers a world that they had never been aware of before.
Something is afoot, something is brewing; the world is coming to an end, and They Are Not Talking.
Muriel had gleefully accepted the keys that Aziraphale gave them as they crossed paths. But their greatest joy at the moment was continuing The Crow Road, which had them fully invested. They would have plenty of time to discover the bookshop later on, after all. And they were a fast reader, they would be done with this one in no time.
And indeed a fast reader they were; by the time the humans were leaving their jobs for the midday break, they had reached the last page. They raised their head from the book and smiled.
The bookshop was absolutely lovely. It was overflowing with novels, short story collections, history books, notepads, disks, manuals and atlases. It felt ancient, and yet welcoming like the smile of an infant. Their fingers roamed across a single bookshelf, brushed the spines, felt for each crease that had formed into them and how many times they had been touched, opened, cherished. They noticed the nonsense categorisation, and took note of it as their first project for the place.
There was no dust settling, no trace of decay. Each record present in the bookshop was in near-perfect shape.
It felt like a collection of humanity.
But most of all, it felt loved.
Muriel beamed. This was a staggering experience. Each book they touched sang to them. Each disk that grazed their fingers whispered the story of an angel who adored them so much he would never part from any of them.
They chose a novel, A Tale of Two Cities. It grumbled about never being left alone. They chuckled. So beloved indeed. They plopped into one of the armchairs and opened it.
