This is the raw rambling of trying to wrangle my thoughts from a basic “stuff happens and then they kiss!” So have some character blurbs!
Harr trying to live on the straight-and-narrow as a musical prodigy with a scholarship because he’s poor as dirt. Might be the poster child of Murphy’s Law with all the luck he has, but this school might be his big break! Shocking that he gets into the school because he has major stage fright...! He’s doing his best with what he’s got -- all the while he’s still supporting kid Loki, who has run away from home, because Harr is a kindhearted guy even in AUs
Lancelot goes to the conservatory as a good son from a respected family but he’s got this rock band on the side that he keeps on the down-low because respected sons just aren’t in rock bands?? Lancelot just trying to experience life, not necessarily out to rebel (or is he!?), but damn can he s i n g ! Bras in the air! Panties just drop to the floor and so does Harr RIP
Sirius is also in the rock band because this is the cool, brawler Sirius with a day job to help support his huge family and he’s got dirt under his nails and scuffed knuckles. Claims he doesn’t have time for music because he’s got ~responsibilities~. But his little siblings go to all his concerts and his old folks have been spotted, too, even though they don’t think rock is music!? (The good kind of parents who support their kids even if they don’t understand them lol)
Jonah and Luka go to this conservatory for voice and violin respectively. Good boys from a very wretched family. Sadly said family is a big, BIG sponsor of the college. Smells like nepotism ‘round here!! Luka breathing fire, doing poorly in classes, because he misunderstands Jonah’s dedication as obedience. Jonah gets a whiff of Lancelot’s rock band and is unimpressed for Lancelot’s sake, thinks Sirius isn’t good enough to match Lancelot’s talents -- Jonah becomes determined to join the rock band!?
Edgar is here, there, everywhere, playing everything. “What is your specialty?” “Oh, well, you know!” Talented in all things but seems to flutter between them. Is always third chair, never first or second, never seems to want to make a name for himself despite having massive talent. Has connections to just about all the underground clubs and fancy theaters and apparently can get who he wants, when he wants, onto the billing. This is probably heading into some old-school, prohibition-originating mob/criminal territory lol
Alice is also at the conservatory, being a doll, loving all the music, and her favorite time period is lunchtime. Her instrument of choice is TBA but perhaps she flutters between them like Edgar, except in her case it’s because she doesn’t feel she’s good enough at any of them since she can never get first or second chair even when she tries really hard! -- Basically I need some sweet, sweet Edgar x Alice content!
facetious plot summary: Lancelot loses his magic upon traveling back in time to the day of Alice the Second’s arrival. How will he save the world equipped with only his winning looks and charisma? Read on to find out!
On this week’s episode of Lancelot’s Big D*ck Energy, Harr beams in to Lancelot’s office to confront him about his magic...
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 : the man in the mask
About Harr.
Lancelot knows, logically, that Harr can manifest in any space by will. He entered the Magic Tower by will, materializing in a flash of brilliant light that sparked horror rather than hope. And then Lancelot died in front of him.
So the next time Harr does it, Lancelot nearly dies again. From a heart attack.
When someone violates the laws of space and time, the world trembles and splits for a brief moment like it can’t repress its wounds. There’s a shimmer, like those mirages on cobblestone under an unforgiving sun, but Lancelot thinks it might be Amon, come two days too early. He’s been had.
He isn’t exactly proud to have been caught with his pants figuratively around his ankles, but he has his letter opener ready in hand, banking on the element of surprise. Ready to fight for his life or die trying.
It’s Harr.
“Oh, it’s just you,” Lancelot says, unable to mask the relief. Dying knocked his facade out of place a little—might have even cracked it, really.
“Were you expecting someone else?” Harr replies coolly, arching an unimpressed brow.
But Lancelot realizes it’s Harr. Harr is actually standing in front of him, in his office (with his muddy boots staining the red carpet).
A living, breathing Harr, albeit scowling and angry. Lancelot recognizes the flatness of his tone for anger, isn’t quite sure what he did to make Harr this mad though well aware that he does deserve all of Harr’s ire—
“What is the meaning of this, Lancelot?” Harr demands, interrupting his brooding. “You can’t—“
His eyes widen upon realizing that he can’t. Can’t feel Lancelot’s magic, that is. He looks like he’s been struck in the chest.
For the record, that makes the two of them. Before dying, it’d been months since he had seen Harr. The last person he saw was Harr. The expression Harr had made then wasn’t of a man looking at a cursed enemy. The expression he’s making right now though is definitely of a man thinking of cursing someone.
Harr, remarkably, doesn’t back away or tense up when Lancelot comes closer. Not like a fugitive would. Nor like a betrayed friend. He probably figures that Lancelot can’t do much harm now.
“You look well,” Lancelot says, content. Harr’s face is a little gaunt, but he seems sound in mind and body. Still angry. Some sticks up places are just permanent. Lancelot makes a noise of satisfaction. “Good to see you, Harr.”
“Loki did say you seem to have gone mad,” Harr says with resignation. He reaches up and presses his fingers into the tender spot on Lancelot’s jaw.
Lancelot jerks back. Because Harr isn’t a touchy person. Also, he doesn’t want to feel the pain. Harr’s eyes narrow at the reflex.
“Did Amon do this to you?” he asks coldly.
Lancelot isn’t sure which part he’s talking about. The no magic part, the bruise on his jaw part, or administering the killing blow part? Oh well. Lancelot decides to milk it for what it’s worth. “It’s not safe,” he says abruptly, channeling every ounce of melodrama from the swirling of his body chakras. “You can’t be here. Amon could come any minute—“
“I’m not going anywhere,” Harr cuts in, steely. When Lancelot chances a glance over, he sees that Harr’s lone visible grey eye has darkened to silver with pure rage.
Lancelot opens his mouth, but Harr whirls right on him.
“You fool,” he says, building momentum. “You stupid fool. You great idiot. You should have known that working with Amon would only bring you ruin. What he must have done to your father, and—and look what—look what he’s done to you—”
“Is that all?” Lancelot asks, voice shaking with unfathomable emotion.
“No,” Harr replies. “I’m not finished. You suicidal maniac. You have the self-preservation instincts of a lemming. I do not understand how you are still alive. Amon took your magic without taking your soul? Do you understand what that means? He’s accomplished what he wanted all along!”
It’s…actually getting really hard. Trying not to laugh. Lancelot offers a wobbly smile that Harr mistakes for fragility, because Harr, though still furious, slowly draws back his temper. The thickness of his magical aura recedes with it. Lancelot only knows because the magical light by his desk flickers. After all, he can’t feel magic anymore.
“So help me,” Lancelot says simply.
“The nerve,” Harr says, without heat. “To think that I’ll just help you.”
“Why else did you come to my office?” Lancelot keeps his expression open, void of deception this time. He knows that he can trust Harr. He’s always trusted Harr. And he hopes that Harr will choose to trust him again, without the pretense of life or death.
“To see for myself if it was true,” Harr mutters unconvincingly. “To see for myself if you had really lost it.”
Harr has always been a terrible liar. Actually the worst. His tips of his ears turn a little red when he lies, you see. He glances left, where the eyes naturally fall when the brain tries to deceive the body.
Lancelot is glad to see him living.
“I’m sane, I assure you. Now…” Lancelot claps his hands together authoritatively. “Since you’ve agreed, I’d like your protection.”
“I haven’t agreed,” Harr grumbles, but crosses his arms over his chest nonetheless. Warily, he says, “I can set up wards in your office that are triggered by aggressive magic—”
“No,” Lancelot says. “Not for me. There’s a bit of a situation, you see. You presumably already know. Amon has eyes on Alice.”
/
Harr very, very reluctantly agrees to keep Alice under his watch. Conversely, Lancelot thinks in sneaky, sneaky relief, that that means the Black Army will be able to protect Harr and his own ward as their own. Two birds with one stone.
“I didn’t take you for a romantic,” Harr notes, readying to depart. He adjusts his cloak, putting the hood over his head.
“Am I?” Lancelot asks curiously.
“Love at first sight,” Harr elaborates. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to reform out of love.”
Lancelot blinks at him, wondering if he’s been caught. He stares at Harr for the longest time, trying to figure out if he’s been figured out. Harr stares right back.
“There’s nothing romantic about it,” Lancelot finally says. “More tragic than romantic, actually.”
“There’s no tragedy.” Harr points out, puzzled. Harr then offers him his first smile of the night. “It’s good to see you have your priorities straight now.”
Lancelot leans back in his chair, the corner of his mouth quirking up wryly. “My priorities have never changed,” he shoots back, and Harr vanishes with a humph.
He means it. He’ll make Cradle a place for everyone. A home (that Harr can return to).
We want you guys to love Harlance as much as we do. This is why we have compiled fantastic headcanon for these two sad boys after several weeks of extended brainstorming. More under the cut.
Years of sexual repression -> spice upon impact lmao - @edgarbright
